Chapter Text
"New question!" Elias sing-songed, sliding his phone across the table. "From someone named Mossix."
John leaned over and read the question aloud. "…'when you make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, do you use one knife, two knives, a spoon, or a knife and spoon?' What kind of question is that?"
"Obviously use a spoon," River scoffed around a mouthful of mechado. "Y' get more stuff on it."
All heads turned as a spoon clattered on the table. John was glaring at River with the most disgust he'd ever seen on a man's face.
"…you use a knife. It gets the stuff on there fine."
"Yeah, not much."
"You can't even taste the bread!"
"That's the point, bread is gross!"
Elias put a hand over his heart dramatically. "You think my bread is gross? Oh, the disrespect in this household! After I made you sourdough!"
"No- the white bread is gross!" River faltered. "Yours is great!"
"Why are you having PBJ on white bread!?"
"Why aren't you!?" River snapped back at John who was out of his chair with his hands on the table, leaning over with his chest puffed out. He was trying to intimidate River into shutting up.
It was working.
River's next words died in his throat, eyes roaming the broad muscles and skin twitching in rage; And John, ever-so-easy to fluster, noticed the wandering eyes and immediately sat down with a blush-heavy face. Elias hid his smile behind his hand, watching John stuff a spoonful of potato in his mouth. For some reason, he thought it'd be a good time to pipe out-
"I use two knives."
Just like that, two sets of enraged eyes, one covered by glasses (though the message still got across), slowly turned to stare at him, as if baffled by the mere thought.
"B-before you get mad! Momma's a huge germaphobe. She hated mixing the two together. She'd use two so there's no cross contamination."
"WH- there isn't any to begin with! It's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, they're supposed to mix!" River shouted exasperatedly. "That's the point! What happens when you run out of knives?"
"…you wash one."
"Preposterous. I've never seen such a thing," John mocked, pinching his accent into a snooty, high-pitched shrill. River snorted as Elias crossed his arms and leaned back in a huff.
"There's your answer. I use two knives, because that's what I was taught, and the other two are assholes."
The phone chimed again. Elias leaned forward to read it.
"Oh, another question," he murmured, pulling the phone close and scanning the words. His face paled slightly. River sat up a bit straighter, leaning over to grab the phone before Elias could stop him.
"…'to River, what were you convicted for?'" he read out. The air immediately turned tense. River slid the phone back over to Elias.
Panting. His heart was pounding.
Blood covered his busted up knuckles. Both his own and the piece of shit's under him.
The screaming finally stopped.
All that was left was a bloody smear.
Serves it right.
"…a misunderstanding," he gritted out.
The rest of dinner was eaten in tense silence.