The Limey and the Yank!

“Tobiiiii I’m hungryyyyyyy!!!!” Mary whined childishly from the other room.

Tobias groaned. “Are you serious?” he called back, sagging in his seat. “We're not anywhere near tea yet!”

“Please, bro?! Could you cook up something? I’d love to have some traditional British grub!” the American suggested eagerly, leaning against the back of the couch.

Tobias bit his lip before setting down the PS3 controller on the coffee table. “Fine,” he stated bluntly, “bacon it is.”

“What?! Just bacon?” she whined again.

“Hey, if you’ve got a better idea cook something yourself,” Tobias snapped.

“Could you at least put it in a burger, bro?” Mary pouted.

Tobias gawked at her. “A burger?! You want a burger? F*ck me, you had two at school today! You’re gonna die of heart disease! F*ck the burger, you’re just gonna have bacon!” he grumbled, walking to the kitchen and putting on an apron so he wouldn’t get his clothes dirty.

“Awe man…” she moaned. “Fine, whatever~” Mary complied in a heartbeat, almost as if she never really did care in the first place. She took a seat on the tiny dining table, watching Tobias with a wide smile and a lighthearted stare.

Tobias eyed her, suddenly self-conscience. “Are you just gonna watch me all afternoon?” he muttered, tearing the bacon packet open and spreading the rashers on the pan.

“Is it really gunna take ALL afternoon, bro?! Seriously?!” Mary asked, flabbergasted. “I heard the British were bad cooks, but…” she muttered.

“No, it will most bloody NOT take me all afternoon!” he snapped back at her in annoyance at the last comment.

“Then I won’t be here all afternoon!” Mary purred from her seat cheekily.

“Just leave.” Tobias commanded crossly, banging his fists on the countertop.

“Oh, you want me to go?” she asked innocently.

“Yes, yes, YES I want you to go!” he yelled, turning to glare at her.

“Okay~ I’ll leave then~” she sang as she skipped off to her room, not affected in the least by his anger. “Call me when you’re done, kay bro?”

“Freak,” he muttered irately, watching to make sure she had really left before turning his attention back to the gently sizzling bacon.

“Food’s done!” Tobias called out, setting the plate on to the table and piling bacon onto it. He had made enough for two people, figuring that was how much Americans usually ate.

“Yeah! Time to chow down!” Mary cheered, dancing to the kitchen.

She suddenly stopped at the entrance to the kitchen and gazed at the food on the table, frozen where she stood.

Tobias raised a brow at her. “What?” he asked, looking down at the bacon. Sure, it was a little blackened and it was even smoking gently, but this always happened when he cooked.

Mary opened her mouth. Suddenly, she put her hands to her throat and coughed as if she were choking. She dashed to the door and ran out; gasping for air that she couldn’t get hold of.

Tobias chased after her worriedly. “What, Mary?! What’s wrong?!!?” he yelled.

“Your food is all wrong! Bro, that sh*t is burnt up and nasty! There is no way in h*ll I am eating that crap!” she swore as she fell to the ground on the garden path, coughing. A neighbor stuck her head out of her doorway, concerned about all the noise, before catching scent of the stench emanating from the kitchen and hastily ducking back inside.

Tobias glared at her. “You asked me to cook, so I cooked. If you want to eat something, f*cking cook it yourself next time.” He growled before slamming the door.

“W-wait!” Mary jumped to her feet at the loud ‘KER-CHUNK!’ of the lock. “Tobi?” she asked, jostling the door knob desperately. “Tobi, I’m sorry! It isn’t that bad! I’ll eat it, I swear! Even if I have to get my stomach pumped after!” she begged, banging on the door.

But Tobias’ mind was back on Call of Duty as he huffed back to his couch. At the sound of Mary’s pitiful cries, he pulled on her turtle beaches headphones and turned the volume up to high.