Scömìche One Shots (*PG-R*)

Fight *PG13*

"Well of course they're sad, but they're so charged. I fucking love breakup albums." Mitch rested his hand against the counter, sighing when the cool marble met his skin. His wrist was sore from exertion and he deserved a break anyway. He'd been beating for what felt like forever and he clearly wasn't getting very far on his own. "I still don't know if I can forgive you for what Jay-Z did to Beyoncé."

"What?!" Scott laughed, prying the beater from Mitch's limp hand and taking over the task of attempting to blend the thick concoction in the bowl into a something resembling cookie dough. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Mitch smiled as he watched Scott mix the contents of the bowl. He hadn't even been at it for half a minute but it was already beginning to actually look like it was supposed to- it had been so thick that Mitch couldn't move the beater properly, his arm getting sore before the ingredients had even fully integrated themselves into the mixture. He clapped and cheered Scott on as he poured the remaining chocolate chips in and began mixing them into the dough. "You're so muscly and strong! Mix that shit real good, daddy, your girl wants those in the oven ASAP."

Scott rolled his eyes but continued working. "Can you get the baking tray ready and explain why you're mad at me because Jay-Z committed the worlds biggest fuck up? I haven't done anything!" Mitch smirked, bouncing away from him and over to the pantry.

He'd just been messing with him but he liked that Scott was playing along. They so rarely had fights that he couldn't even remember one that wasn't about where they wanted to eat and if Scott wanted to make a problem out of nothing, he was more than happy to join in. Not only did Mitch love teasing him, but he liked that their little fake fights made him feel like those normal couples with ups and downs in contrast to their reality of almost exclusively ups. He didn't mind the accompanying sexual tension, either.

"Well..." he began, fumbling around for the wax paper before skipping back to the oven where Scott was still trying to beat the lumps out of the dough. "If the album was really about them, that means he cheated on her. He cheated on Beyoncé, Scott."

Scott wiped the beater off and set it in the sink, walking over to where Mitch was spraying oil over the wax paper he'd fitted into the pan. "Okay...and what does that have to do with me? Why am I unforgivable again?" He knew Mitch was playing, despite the weirdly heavy subject matter, so he decided to humor him. The boy seemed way too happy to actually be bothered and he was acting so bubbly and cute right now that Scott was tempted to tickle him and make him smile even wider. The boy peeked up at him with a coy expression, trying his best to look serious as he plopped the first spoonful of cookie dough on the pan.

"Well, if Beyoncé- a literal goddess, might I remind you- can get cheated on then I sure as hell can too! I'm just being mad in advance, baby, it only makes sense" he explained, as if his silly accusation followed any form of logic. Mitch shook his head thoughtfully and sighed, fingering another glob of dough into the pan. "See, what I'm doing is looking out for myself. Any day now I might come home from rehearsals and walk into, like, you and Avi fucking in our bed. You fucking Avi, in our bed! Or you getting fucked by Avi? Wait, which way do you think that would go?"

Scott couldn't hold back his chuckle, setting the oven to preheat before sneaking behind Mitch and wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his chin lightly on Mitch's head as he watched the boy systematically spoon dollops of cookie dough onto the pan. "There are literally hundreds of reasons why that's never gonna happen. Want me skim over just a few, you feisty diva?"