Chapter Text
“Hey there!” Ben enters the room with a weary face, noticing Flavio sitting at the kitchen table.
“Hey,” he replies with his mouth full, briefly glancing at him as he scrolls the Instagram home page.
“How’s been your day? Man, I’m too tired to even stand, my head is splitting.” Ben places a grocery bag on the tabletop and takes out a pack from it.
“Did you hit it against a wall?” Flavio jokes as he leans to peek into the shopping bag, curious to find out what else his roommate bought. “Oh, anyway… I cleaned the bathroom this morning.”
“Finally!” The dark-haired guy puts the package into the microwave, closes the door and throws himself on a chair next to his friend.
Flavio shows his middle finger and takes another bite from his sandwich. “I told you, I was too busy in these past days.”
“Yeah, sure…” the American replies sarcastically.
Silence falls into the room, only fulfilled by the microwave drone. A few seconds pass before it rings.
“What about Carlitos? Is he at home?” Ben asks, getting up with a huff to take his meal to the table.
“I think he’s out for a pizza with the football team.” Flavio glances at his roommate and a horrified grimace appears on hi face. “Ben!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Is that a lasagna?”
The curly-haired guy is confused at first, he looks down at the tray that contains – indeed – a lasagna slice, it’s obvious. Then he understands and rolls his eyes. “Oh, here we go again…”
“I mean, it’s a swill, it doesn’t even look like a lasagna!” He’s outraged. “Did you buy it at the discounter?”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t intend to share it with you.” The American shrugs and starts eating, hiding a little witty smile. He knows how things go when it comes to food: his friend’s Italian roots get easily offended… and it’s an incredibly fun show.
“Seriously, it smells terrible.” Flavio dramatically holds his nose as if he was next to a trash bin.
Ben laughs. “Cook it for me, then.”
“You know I can’t, I’m terrible at the stove.”
“Of course, you’re eating a damn sandwich!” Ben points at Flavio’s dinner that wasn’t so hard to cook apparently. “So, don’t bust my balls. It’s good, and if it wasn’t I’m too tired right now to notice.”
Flavio pouts. “At least my sandwich can be called food.”
“Food is food, right?”
The Italian grins. “Yeah, there’s food for human beings and there’s cat food.”
“What the…” Ben shakes his head. “Well, I give up, you’re too fucking Italian.”
“And you’re too fucking American.”
They glare at each other for some tense seconds, then they both burst out laughing.
Ben lifts a forkful of lasagna. “Do you wanna taste, bro?”
“Fuck you, Shelton! I’d rather starve to death!”