The Dunphy living room was bathed in the glow of the TV screen, the sound of virtual sneakers squeaking and the crowd roaring filling the space. Phil sat cross-legged on the floor, controller in hand, a look of intense focus on his face. Next to him, Marco lounged back on the couch, one arm draped over the back, the other lazily flicking the analog stick—grinning like a madman.
"Alright, Phil, you ready to get cooked?" Marco said, spinning the ball in his player's hands at midcourt.
Phil chuckled, adjusting his grip. "Oh, you're talking big for someone who's about to get schooled by a real NBA 2K veteran."
Alex, sitting on the armrest next to Marco, rolled her eyes. "Dad, you play on Rookie difficulty."
"Hey! I dabble in Pro!" Phil protested.
Marco snorted. "Aight, bet. Let's see what you got, jefe."
Tip-off. Phil won the jump ball—his one and only victory of the night.
He passed to his point guard, dribbling cautiously up the court. Marco's defense was relentless. Before Phil could even set up a play, Marco stole the ball, sprinted downcourt, and dunked so hard the controller vibrated in Phil's hands.
"BOOM! AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!" Marco shouted, jumping up from the couch like he was actually in the arena.
Phil blinked. "Okay, okay, lucky steal—"
"Nah, nah, nah," Marco cut him off, wagging a finger. "That was skill."
Alex buried her face in her hands.
By the end of the first quarter, Marco was up 28-6.
Phil stared at the screen. "I… don't understand. I pressed all the right buttons."
Marco smirked. "You gotta feel the game, Phil. It's not just buttons—it's art."
———
Phil tried to adjust. He called timeouts. He subbed in his bench. He even attempted a full-court press.
None of it worked.
Marco was unstoppable.
Step-back three? Swish. Marco jumped up, screaming, "COLD-BLOODED!"
Fast-break dunk? Posterized Phil's entire team. "GET THAT WEAK STUFF OUTTA HERE!"
Alley-oop? The controller nearly flew out of Phil's hands from the force of Marco's celebration. "OHHHH! HE JUST BROKE THE ANKLES AND THE BACKBOARD!"
Halftime score: 52-18.
Phil slumped back, rubbing his temples. "I think my controller's broken."
Alex patted his shoulder. "It's not the controller, Dad."
Marco, meanwhile, was doing a full victory dance in place. "This is a massacre! A public execution!"
Claire, passing through with a basket of laundry, paused. "Phil, are you… losing?"
Phil groaned. "I'm being oppressed."
———
Phil dug deep. He switched to zone defense. He started spamming post moves. He even prayed to the basketball gods.
Marco responded by dropping 18 straight points in under two minutes.
"OH NO, HE'S HOT!" Marco yelled, shaking Phil by the shoulders. "HE'S ON FIRE! SOMEONE CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!"
Alex was full-on laughing now, tears in her eyes. "Marco, stop, you're gonna give him a heart attack!"
Phil's hands were shaking. "I can't… I can't do this anymore."
Marco paused the game, putting a hand on Phil's shoulder. "Hey. Look at me."
Phil looked up, hopeful.
"It's okay to quit," Marco said solemnly.
Phil threw a couch pillow at him.
———
The final buzzer sounded.
Final score: 112-42.
Marco's player was named MVP as confetti rained down on the screen.
Phil sat in stunned silence.
Marco stood up, arms raised. "UNDISPUTED! GREATEST OF ALL TIME! PHIL DUNPHY, YOU JUST GOT RIVERAD!"
Alex was wheezing. "Oh my God, you are insufferable."
Phil slowly placed his controller down. "I need to lie down."
Marco plopped back onto the couch, throwing an arm around Alex. "Aight, Phil, rematch tomorrow. Maybe you'll score 50 next time."
Phil pointed at him. "You're banned from this house."
Marco gasped. "Alex! Your dad's a hater!"
Alex just shook her head, grinning.
Somehow, this was exactly how she expected this night to go.
******
After the NBA 2K massacre, Alex headed upstairs to tidy up her room—shoving textbooks into her bag, clearing off her desk, and pulling fresh sheets over the bed. She could still hear Marco's victorious cackling echoing from downstairs, mixed with Phil's dramatic groans.
Meanwhile, Marco slipped into the bathroom, turning the faucet to let steaming water rush into the tub. He rummaged through his duffel bag, grabbing his shampoo, body wash, and—when Alex wasn't looking—her favorite lavender-scented towel and bath products too.
Once the bathroom was filled with warm steam, he leaned out the door.
"Alex!" he called, voice low but playful. "Ven acá."
She paused, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Just come here."
Curious, she walked over—only to be met with the sight of the filled tub, bubbles already forming, and Marco grinning like he'd just won another championship.
"Oh," she said, crossing her arms. "You planning something?"
He tugged her closer by the waist. "Nah. Just thought you could use a break after watching me destroy your dad."
She rolled her eyes but didn't resist as he kissed her temple. "Fine. But no funny business."
Marco gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "Me? Never."
———
The water was perfect—hot enough to soothe sore muscles but not scalding. Alex sank in first, leaning back against Marco's chest as he settled behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist.
"See?" he murmured, lips brushing her ear. "This is way better than studying."
She exhaled, tension melting away. "Mm. Maybe."
Marco grabbed the loofah, squeezing a dollop of her lavender body wash onto it before dragging it gently over her shoulders. "You're stressed, mami. Gotta fix that."
She smirked. "Oh, so this is therapy now?"
"The best kind." His hands moved lower, massaging the soap into her skin, fingertips tracing idle patterns along her arms.
Alex closed her eyes, letting the warmth and his touch lull her into relaxation. The scent of lavender mixed with the steam, the water lapping softly against the edges of the tub.
Marco, ever incapable of staying quiet for long, hummed under his breath—some reggaeton song she vaguely recognized. His fingers tangled in her hair, working shampoo through the strands with surprising gentleness.
"You're weirdly good at this," she mumbled.
He chuckled. "What, you thought I was just a pretty face?"
"I thought you were just a loudmouth who cheats at video games."
"Oof." He pinched her side lightly, making her squirm. "And here I was, being romantic."
Alex turned her head just enough to kiss him—slow, lazy, water dripping from her hair onto his collarbone. "You're tolerable," she murmured against his lips.
Marco grinned. "High praise."
They stayed like that until the water cooled, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away—if only for a little while.
And when they finally climbed out, skin pruned and hearts light, Alex couldn't help but think:
Yeah.
This was definitely better than studying.
———
After their bath, the room was warm and dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The sheets were cool against their skin as they climbed into bed, the weight of the day finally settling into their muscles.
Alex stretched out on her stomach with a quiet sigh, her arms tucked under the pillow. Marco smirked, straddling her thighs, his hands already kneading into the tension along her shoulders.
"You're way too tense, mami," he murmured, thumbs pressing deep into the knots along her spine.
She groaned into the pillow, half-muffled. "Maybe because someone spent the last two hours dunking on my dad in 2K."
He chuckled, leaning down to brush his lips against the back of her neck before his hands slid lower, fingers tracing the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips. His touch was firm but slow, deliberate—less a massage now and more something else, something that made her breath hitch.
"Marco—"
"Shh," he whispered, lips grazing her shoulder blade. "Just relax."
His hands moved with purpose, teasing, exploring, worshipping—until she was melting under him, every nerve alight.
By the time he was done, she was boneless, barely able to muster the energy to roll over. Marco just grinned, pulling her into his chest as he settled behind her, his body curling around hers like a second skin.
One arm draped over her waist, his breath warm against the nape of her neck. "Better?"
She hummed, already half-asleep. "Mm. Maybe."
He kissed her shoulder, nuzzling into her hair. "Buenas noches, mi amor."
And just like that—wrapped in warmth, in safety, in him—she drifted off.