Work Text:
Nile groaned when another pillow flew through the living room, hitting Joe this time. Booker smiled briefly triumphantly before he also got hit by a flying pillow.
Nicky: "Something wrong, little one?"
Nile: "I just wish they would shut up for a moment or two. They have argued over that football match for the last four hours."
Nicky: "At least they can't shoot at each other this time."
Nile: "Sorry what? Are you serious? Have they shot each other before?"
Nicky: "One time back in the 1950s. After that, they got the choice between handing over their guns and other weapons before watching football or else someone would use her axe on the telly."
Andy: "You're welcome for that but if you want some silence, you should ask one of the rival parties' husband for help, Nile."
Nile: "Nicky, do you mind?"
Nicky: "Not at all. Let me see. What to do?"
Andy: "If you put it like that I'm leaving. Because I know what follows isn't quiet at all."
Nicky: "I was just kidding you, Boss. I'm taking Joe with me."
Nicky stood up and took the scissor on the kitchen counter before cutting a big hole in his t-shirt.
Nicky: "Nile, remember to take out the lasagna in five minutes and let it rest for ten. See you tomorrow."
Then Nicky walked into the living room and poked Joe on the shoulder, who looked at Nicky with a big smile.
Joe: "HI Babe, what's up?"
Nicky pointed at his t-shirt with the big hole: "I was thinking about something. I had another kitchen accident and was thinking would you help me find a new t-shirt far away from here in our own little private place? You know the place the others don't know about."
Joe looked at the big hole in the t-shirt that showed Nicky's tummy before he dropped the pillow on the floor.
Joe: "Sorry Book but you win. Enjoy your little victory tonight because I just won a big prize."
Joe grabbed Nicky's hand before they ran out of the living room, giggling like school girls.
Booker: "What just happened?"
Andy: "Silence was restored when a t-shirt was sacrificed. You owe Nicky, Nile."
Nile: "I know and I'll bring him a box of cannolis from Italy next week as thanks."
Booker: "You're not making sense at all. And is that dinner I smell?"