Atlas was lounging on the couch with Demitra, Sunday, Eliana, and Noah, a small army of snacks spread across the coffee table in front of them. The girls were brainstorming ideas for their next YouTube video while Noah occasionally chimed in, though he seemed more focused on keeping Eliana entertained. She was perched comfortably on his lap, laughing at something he whispered into her ear.

Demitra, meanwhile, had claimed her rightful throne: Atlas's lap. She sat sideways, her legs draped over Atlas's thigh, her hands idly playing with the sleeve of Atlas's Under Armour shirt. Atlas, dressed in her usual casual but stylish way—black sweatpants and a fitted long-sleeve shirt that hinted at her lean muscle—sat relaxed, her arm looped loosely around Demitra's waist.

The conversation had been light and scattered until Sunday, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, broke the calm. "Mia, what would you do if Atlas dressed like Noah?"

Atlas paused mid-sip of her drink, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong with how Noah dresses?"

Noah, in his usual Nike tech tracksuit, looked up, feigning offense. "Yeah, what's wrong with it? I'm comfortable and stylish."

"You look clapped," Demitra quipped, smirking at him. She then turned back to Sunday, her tone exaggeratedly dramatic. "If Atlas dressed like a Nike tech warrior, I would cry."

Eliana, amused, leaned further into Noah. "Why cry? It's not like she wouldn't make it look good."

Demitra shook her head emphatically, cupping Atlas's cheeks and squishing them slightly. "Atlas looks good in everything, yes, but that—" she gestured toward Noah, her nose wrinkling—"would ruin her vibe. She's my little vintage-wearing baby."

Atlas chuckled, her amber eyes sparkling with amusement as she let Demitra hold her face. "Little vintage-wearing baby, huh?"

"Yes, and you're staying that way," Demitra declared, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose. "You can't pull off being a 'nike tech warrior.' It's not you."

"I still think you should try it out," Eliana interjected, shrugging. "Even though Nike tech doesn't fit your brand."

Atlas snorted. "Good to know I have a brand. What about you, Sunny? You think I'd look bad in it?"

Sunday raised her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I think you could make anything work, but let's not lie—it would be weird."

"I'm feeling attacked," Noah muttered, though his grin betrayed his amusement. He turned to Eliana. "You don't think I look weird, right?"

Eliana patted his chest reassuringly. "You look... cozy."

"Cozy," he repeated flatly.

"Cozy's a compliment," Eliana said, laughing as she kissed his cheek.

"She means you look chopped." Atlas teased.

Demitra, still perched on Atlas, turned her attention back to her girlfriend. "This is why I fell for you, baby. The drip. The style. The commitment to not looking like a walking gym class."

Atlas smirked, leaning back into the couch. "Good to know my wardrobe is what won you over."

"That and your arms," Demitra admitted, giving one of Atlas's tattooed biceps a playful squeeze. "And the way you smell. And your face. And—"

"We get it Mia," Sunday interrupted, rolling her eyes. "You're obsessed."

"Damn right, I am," Demitra shot back, grinning. "This is fine shyt we're talking about."

The conversation eventually shifted back to the YouTube video idea, with everyone throwing out suggestions.

"What about a couples' trivia challenge?" Eliana suggested. "Like, see who knows the most about their partner."

"That could be fun," Sunday said, nodding. "And when someone gets an answer wrong, they have to do a forfeit."

"Like what?" Demitra asked, intrigued.

"Something embarrassing," Sunday replied. "Like wearing a ridiculous outfit or calling an ex."

"Calling an ex is too far," Atlas interjected, shaking her head. "But I'm down for the rest."

"You'd better be down," Demitra teased. "Because I'm winning."

"You think you know me better than I know you?" Atlas asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know I do," Demitra said confidently.

"We'll see," Atlas said, smirking. "Don't cry when you lose, mami."

"I never cry," Demitra retorted, poking her in the chest. "And you're going to eat those words, bro."

"Couples' trivia it is," Sunday declared, clapping her hands. "Now we just need to come up with the questions."

Later that evening, the group decided to test out a few questions as a warm-up.

"Alright," Sunday began, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a notepad. "Atlas, what's Demitra's favorite dessert?"

"Easy," Atlas said, leaning back with a smug grin. "That's stupid french candy, bon bon. I think is the name."

Demitra's jaw dropped. "How did you—"

"Because I pay attention," Atlas said, reaching up to adjust her glasses. "Next question."

"Okay, Demitra," Sunday continued. "What's Atlas's favorite thing to cook?"

Demitra squinted, her brow furrowing as she thought. "Is it... chicken parm?"

"Close," Atlas said, holding up her hand and pinching her fingers together. "But wrong."

"What is it, then?" Demitra asked, frowning.

"Spaghetti carbonara," Atlas said. "With garlic bread on the side."

"You never told me that," Demitra accused.

"I didn't have to," Atlas replied, smirking. "You just didn't guess right."

Demitra pouted, crossing her arms. "Fine. Next question." Atlas only smiled at her and wrapped her arms around her waist, leaning down to peck her lips.