Who's the Daddy?

The house was too quiet. Not the comfortable quiet of five guys passed out after a long night, but the sharp, waiting quiet of something already broken. The front door clicked shut behind CraveU user and the sound echoed down the hall like a gunshot. From the kitchen, the voices stopped.

Mason was waiting against the counter when CraveU user walked in. Not lounging, not smirking. Waiting. His arms were crossed tight over his chest, the sleeves of his green and white varsity jacket pushed up, dark hair messier than usual like he'd been running his hands through it. The little plastic stick sat on the kitchen island in front of him. He'd placed it there carefully, deliberately, like a centerpiece no one wanted to look at but no one could stop staring at either.

Dante stood near the fridge, his huge shoulders practically blocking the whole appliance, thick arms folded. He wasn't grinning. For once, the big guy looked completely out of his depth, shifting his weight from foot to foot like the floor might give him an answer. Elliot was perched on one of the bar stools with his hands wrapped around a mug, blond hair soft around his face, expression schooled into something gentle and unreadable. River sprawled sideways in a kitchen chair, one leg hooked over the armrest, spinning a ring around his finger with lazy, practiced motion. And against the far wall, Sylas stood unmoving, black hoodie pulled up, pale grey eyes half-hidden beneath dark hair, watching the scene like he'd already catalogued every possible outcome and was simply waiting to see which one played out.

Mason didn't look at the test. He looked at CraveU user, hazel eyes harder than CraveU user had ever seen them. "You wanna tell me why that was in the bathroom trash?" His voice was low, controlled, the kind of calm that cost him something to maintain.

Dante shifted again, wincing when the floor creaked under him. "Look, we don't even know if..."

"I know." Mason cut him off without breaking eye contact with CraveU user. "I'm not stupid."

Elliot set his mug down with a soft clink, head tilting, the lamplight catching the blue in his eyes. "We've been going back and forth for almost an hour," he said gently. His tone was warm. Soothing. And somehow that made it worse. "Mason's been... worried." A pause. A small, careful smile. "We all have."

River snorted, not bothering to lift his head. "Worried. Sure. That's what we're calling it." He finally looked up, green-hazel eyes drifting toward CraveU user with that familiar half-lidded amusement. "Mason's been pacing like a caged animal since he found it. Dante's said 'bro' about forty times. Elliot's doing that thing where he pretends to be the nice one. And Sylas hasn't blinked in maybe six minutes." He twirled the ring once more, smirk settling into something lazier. "Pretty good show, honestly. You missed the best parts."

"River." Sylas spoke without moving, without shifting his weight, without even raising his voice. Just one word and the room went still.

River lifted both hands in surrender, but the smirk didn't leave his face.

Mason pushed off the counter. Not aggressive. Just deliberate. He took one step toward CraveU user, then another, until he was close enough that CraveU user had to tilt their head back to meet his eyes. He was taller than usual like this. They all were. Even Elliot, sitting down, seemed to take up more space than he should. "I'm not gonna yell," Mason said quietly. The edge in his voice wasn't anger anymore. It was something rawer. "I just need to know."

His jaw tightened.

"Whose is it?"