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Sebastian opened the door to the refrigerator and promptly closed it again.
“…Jim.”
“Yea?” his voice called from the sitting room where he was slumped over the couch, watching a documentary on serial killers and criticizing their style.
“….why is there egg yolk all over the fridge? And why do all of my eggs have tiny, terrified little faces drawn on them?”
“Psychological torture. I want them to see know that they’ll be facing their untimely end soon.”
“Okay, Jim. First of all, you can’t enact psychological torture on something without a brain. And second of all,” Sebastian closed the door and pressed his forehead against the cool metal, “you’re insane in ways I never possibly imagined.”
“Thank you, dear!”
“Not a compliment, Jim! Clean this up!”
-
The next morning, Sebastian rolled out of bed and padded down to the kitchen, looking for Jim. He found him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast, which was already a worrying though since he’d long ago banned Jim from using anything in there after the incident with the toaster.
Jim had a pot of water boiling and an egg balanced precariously on a spoon above it. The spoon had a face of horror that reminded Sebastian oddly of The Scream, hands and all. He spoke in a very high pitched voice, presumably intended to belong to the egg.
“No, please! I’ll do anything! Money, fame, you name it!”
Then back in his normal voice. “Oh I have no need for those things. You’ve displeased me greatly and now you’ve got to suffer for it, egg.
The egg cried out again, “Please sir, I have a family!”
“Oh yes, I know,” Jim replied, “And they’re coming next!”
“Nooooo-“ the egg’s scream of despair trailed off into blubbering as Jim dunked the egg into the water, looking very pleased with himself.
Sebastian watched him from the door with an expression that was half amusement and half what the fuck.
“You know that’s not how to boil an egg right?”
Jim cocked his head to one side and watched the submerged egg. “Seems to be boiling pretty well to me.”
Sebastian stepped up behind Jim and places his hands on the smaller man’s hips, glancing over his shoulder. “Well yea, it’s going to boil. But it’s not going to be a hardboiled egg or anything. It just going to be… cooked egg.”
Jim glanced over his shoulder at Sebastian, confusion on his face. “I wasn’t boiling him to eat him, Seb. I was making a point.”
“…right. How silly of me. Okay, you keep on with… whatever you’re doing and I’m going to go take a shower. ” He nipped at Jim’s earlobe. “Come join me if you finish with your prisoner soon enough.”
Jim joined him the shower ten minutes later for a quick, slippery fumble and when Sebastian went back down to the kitchen, he found the remains of the “prisoner’s” shell with the eyes crossed out and stuck back in the carton. Apparently, according to Jim, as a warning.
Sebastian pulled the egg-corpse out and flicked it into the trash, ignoring the look of indignation on Jim’s face. “They don’t need to watch his eggy corpse rot when they’re about to be made into breakfast.” He handed the carton to Jim. “Crack them into a bowl so I can scramble them.”
Sebastian set about pulling out pans and other items to make breakfast. When he turned back, Jim had rigged up what seemed to be a plank above a mixing bowl and making the eggs walk it.
“Noooo!” the egg on the plan cried. “Please don’t egg-ecute me!” Jim paused to throw back his head and laugh.
“Ha! Egg puns!”
The little crowd of eggs next to the bowl begged loudly “Please! Save him! Please Jim!”
Jim cackled again. “No!” and cracked the egg hard on the side of the bowl, the sounds of dying egg gurgling up.
“Jim?”
He tossed aside the eggshell and picked up the next one, screaming in a tinny, high-pitched voice. Jim looked up at Sebastian. “Yea?”
“Can you murder the rest of the group faster? I need them.”
“You loveable genocidal fool, you.”
Sebastian stared at him blankly. Jim let out a dramatic sigh. “Fiiiine.” He quickly cracked the rest of the eggs into the bowl, with minimal screaming, and handed it over.
“I’ll get you more eggs to torture next time I’m at the shops.”
“Good, I had a whole story line planned out for them, and you’ve completely thrown it off.”
“What a terrible boyfriend I am.”
“The very worst. I had at least six more egg puns I could have worked in.”