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The fact of the matter was, Racetrack had a Napoleon complex, and Blink thought it was cute. Racetrack was an almost ridiculously stereotypical small guy; he was a loudmouth, a class clown, and more aggressive than someone who was only five foot three inches should have been. But Blink (who had a habit of kissing the top of his boyfriend's head, just because he could and it made Racetrack insane) thought it was adorable to watch Racetrack overcompensate for his shortness.

And there were some ways where his overcompensating was a very fun thing indeed, but Blink didn't talk about that. Mostly, he just looked smug.

The problem was that, on occasion, Race's Napoleon complex got a bit out of control. Blink was always on his side for snowball fights, which was lucky, because he got rather intense; but then, when Jack and David had been thoroughly beaten down and had snow shoved down the back of their jackets to prove it (David had yelped rather satisfyingly; Jack had just grumbled and sworn revenge) and the boys went inside to thaw out, Race wasn't quite done with his aggression for the day.

"I think," he declared imperiously, "you got more marshmellows in your hot chocolate than I did."

Blink stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"Look." He gestured at Blink's mug with his spoon. "You got, like, twice as many as I did."

"Uh... no. I just haven't eaten all of mine yet."

"Which is a waste, 'cause they're all melting."

"I know, I like it like that. They melt and then you stir them in."

Race stared at him. Blink stared back.

"You're a freak," Race declared.

"I am not. It's good. I always have my cocoa like that."

"Freak!"

Blink sulked and Racetrack smirked, until finally Blink got up to go get their soup, and as soon as his back was turned, Racetrack leaned over to dip his spoon into Blink's cocoa, stealing as many marshmallows as he could.

"Hey!" Blink whirled around, knowing his boyfriend well enough to know something would happen.

"What?"

"You stole my marshmellows!"

"You weren't gonna eat them."

"I told you, I like it when they melt—"

"And I said, you're a freak."

Blink scowled and turned back to the stove, then to the cupboard to find the salt.

"Ha!" Race yelled, gathering the rest of the marshmallows from Blink's mug. Blink sighed, and set down the salt, rummaged around in the cupboard while Racetrack slurped up his hot chocolate and Blink's marshmallows, and finally, with his mug drained, slammed it down, satisfied. "Where's my soup, ho?"

"I'm sorry, what did you call me?"

"You heard me."

Blink rolled his eyes, found what he was looking for in the cupboard and turned towards Race. "That wasn't very nice."

"Aww, baby. I didn't mean it," Race answered, but he was still smirking.

"Yeah, yeah." Blink grumbled, and the next thing Racetrack knew, he'd been pelted in the head with something.

"What?!"

He looked up at Blink, who was holding a bag of mini-marshmellows and looking smug. "You want more marshmallows, Race?"

"Blink—"

Another marshmellow bounced off Race's head, and then another.

"Okay, stop it now—"

Somehow, Blink managed to get one of the marshmellows into Race's gaping open mouth, and Race choked for a second.

"Okay, you realize, this means war," Race managed, as soon as he recovered. He dove for two of the fallen marshmallows and managed to nail Blink in the eyepatch with one, but Blink had a lot more ammunition, and soon the floor and the kitchen table and counter were covered in marshmellows.

"I hope you're happy," Blink said, laughing, as he held up an arm to cover his face. "You got marshmellows in the soup!"

"Your fault!"

"Uh, no." Blink half-heartedly tossed a marshmellow at Racetrack, and Race grumbled and threw a handful of them back.

"Come on, help me clean this up."

"I don't think so. You do it. Ho."

Blink rolled his eyes. "It's a good thing you're cute, Race," was all he could manage to say.

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