Chapter Text
The comment I had made about him starting a war wasn't a joke either, the car descended into chaotic yelling the second he uttered the words. I hadn't known something as simple as what we were eating for dinner could start a fight quite so intense.
“Chinese!” Iguana yelled, excitedly.
“Chippy.” Jackal countered.
“I want McDonald's.” Cobra chimed in, almost whining.
The three of them looked at each other before simultaneously whipping their heads towards me, staring in my direction.
“What do you want, Panther?” Jackal asked, smiling wickedly as the other two glared.
I was doomed no matter what I picked.
“Um… I don't mind.” I told him, shrinking back in my seat, trying to avoid being involved in their battle.
They all stared at me for a few seconds more before turning back to each other, their argument continuing, and slowly their voices rose, growing louder by the minute, until they were shouting at each other in the middle of a car park outside a military medical centre.
I don't get why they call a war between a connected group of people a civil war, because this was anything but civil.
We must have spent around an hour sitting in the car park as they screamed and shouted at each other, throwing insults like children throw toys, before Jackal acknowledged the fact that we do have to drive home at some point. We were silent as Jackal drove, but don't think that was the end of their fight. It was far from it.
The second we walked through the door to the house, the screaming continued almost immediately. They yelled for hours until it was almost time for dinner, and I had enough.
“Right!” I yelled over the ruckus, demanding the attention of my rowdy friends. “We're getting McDonald's.”
They all stared at me for a few seconds, before slowly turning away, looking at the floor.
“Okay… I guess we're getting McDonald's then?” Jackal consulted the others.
They both nodded and mumbled agreement.
“Since when are you the boss?” Cobra grumbled.
“Well, you wanted my opinion earlier.” I retorted.
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.” I muttered snarkily, walking over to the other sofa, purposefully sitting as far away from Cobra as I could.
I guess it's no surprise to anyone that we ate our McDonald's in an awkward silence, the only thing cutting through the air was Cobra's icy glares that he shot me every few minutes. I ignored him, continuing to eat my food.
His tanned skin was slightly blushed and his face was sweaty, and I could tell that his sour mood was somewhat caused by the pain of his physical therapy session and the mental exhaustion of talking to his psychiatrist.
Pain and exhaustion from a wound, whether physical or mental, was something I was well accustomed to. I understood why he was in a poor mood, but it didn't quell the anger at being treated that way.