^Milo^
"Woah, what's going on in here? Why does it smell like burnt toast? And why are there Taco Bell wrappers everywhere?"
Milo scratched the back of his head as he entered the grand kitchen where it looked like I just set off a nuclear bomb. I stood at the stove top, trying to Google when a person could tell if the soup was done when he walked in on me.
"I'm attempting to cook," I ooze with frustration as I stir the tomato soup and throw away the charcoal hockey puck that was my 5th attempt at making grilled cheese.
"Is this your weird cravings again," He asks as he comes over to the stove top and yanks the loaf of bread away from me before I start a fire.
"No, that's what the Taco Bell was for. This is for Wesley," I point out and he turns off my burner for the soup, moving it to the back.
"Well first off, why tomato and not chicken noodle soup? Isn't that what you're supposed to give sick people?" He brings up the blatantly obvious and I kick him in the shin.
"I would have, had it not been for the fact Whole Foods was sold out and I was too lazy to go anywhere else. So tomato soup it is. I thought I would make grilled cheese with it, but I'm clearly not meant for the domesticated lifestyle," I explain while Milo scrapes the burnt stuff off the pan and into the sink before taking a stick of butter out of the fridge.
He heats the pan up again and rubs the butter on it to oil it before putting down the bread and cheese.
"You wouldn't last a day as a house husband fuck. You need to get yourself a house husband," He says as he presses down on the bread with a spatula, making it sizzle.
"You know, I think anything is possible if one puts their mind to it," I try to stay optimistic but he chokes on his own breath.
"Yeah and look how far that got you? The entire apartment smells like burnt ass. You're lucky the man can't smell anything," Milo points out and flips the grilled cheese like a pro.
"Why are you doing this for him anyway?" He asks, turning to me with the spatula in one hand and the other hand on his hip.
"Cause he's our bodyguard. He takes care of us. Why shouldn't we take care of him?" I quickly throw the question back onto him and he smirks. I turn around and take out a large tray from the cabinet.
"Are you sure you aren't doing this for other reasons? Do you and Agent Anderson have like...a thing?" I nearly drop the tray when he asks this and quickly reset my thinking.
"N-No, why would you think that? Ew, I'm pretty sure Wesley is old enough to be my dad," I stutter as I grab the soup bowl from the counter and pour the tomato soup, spilling only 25% of it onto the counter.
"I mean, he's only twenty-eight. That's not too bad but I never saw you as the sugar baby type," He continues and I punch him so hard that he cries out in pain.
"Shut up!" I cry out and he laughs as he flips the grilled cheese onto a small plate.
"God, you make it so obvious," He chuckles and I hit him again after pouring a glass of orange juice.
"Fuck! Is this what I get for helping you woo your sugar daddy?" Milo laughs and I flip him off before taking the tray and walking away from the kitchen.
"Hey! What about the mess!" He calls out and I keep walking.
"I don't want it to get cold!" I call back but he runs out stopping me.
"Wait! You can't get sick. We have songs to record and concerts to perform," He says and I roll my eyes.
"Tell me something I don't know, now get out of the way," I almost shove him but he reaches into the hallway closet and rummages through the first aid kit, pulling out a hospital quality mask and putting on my face.
"Here, this should help to some degree. I mean, unless you plan on making out with him," Milo just has to add and I raise my fist, causing him to fall back.
"Alright alright! Clean up your shit when you're done though," He reminds me and I take the elevator up to the 3rd floor where our head of security resides.