"You bought what?" Niko seemed torn between horror and alarm. Caliban grinned.
"Yeah, you heard me."
"Those shouldn't even exist," Niko said, explosively, glare more than just fierce. "Hand them over, Cal, there is no way I'm letting you eat all of those." His little brother shrugged and handed him a box, grease-stained and… "How many were in this," he asked, flatly, lifting the nearly empty box in one hand.
Caliban grimaced, thinking. "Umm. Twelve, maybe?"
Niko stared at him in gaping disbelief. "…twelve. And you left what, two?" He opened the box, frown deepening though his mouth didn't really move that much. "One and a half."
"If I'd known you wanted some I would have left more," Cal said, and Niko cuffed him lightly.
"That's for cheek. Do you have any idea what these are doing to your arteries?"
"I prefer not to think about it."
Niko grunted. "An idiot's response. An idiot with a heart attack at the age of thirty. We're going running. And you can whine about it all you want, it's not going to change anything." True to form, Cal groaned and flopped on the couch.
"Not now, Niko. I already have a stomachache, if I try running I'll barf all over your nice shoes."
Niko glared at him. "Your own fault, isn't it? Fine. Two hours. And go have some water, at least. Deep fried Oreos?"
Cal shoved his hands in his pockets and stayed where he was. "They're really good, you know. Couldn't hurt you to try one. And if they're really that bad you can spend an extra week in detox and I won't even give you any shit about it."
Niko started dubiously at the box. "You want me to eat one?" He hoped his tone said what he thought of this idea. Apparently not, because Caliban shrugged.
"Yeah, you know, don't knock it until you've tried it. Like you told me about green tea." He stuck his tongue out in an expression of disgust. "Blech. I can still taste it."
"You have no taste, brother," Niko pointed out mildly, still eying the deep-fried Oreos with deep, deep suspicion.
"You have no taste," Caliban countered, "You're the one who eats grass here. Man cannot live by health food alone."
"I'm proud of you, you quoted something," Niko said dryly, and pulled one of the things out of its grease-stained box to examine it as he might a potentially dangerous object. They didn't look very menacing, really. But Cal did have a point about the 'not knocking it until you've tried it,' much as he hated to admit it. He looked up to find his little brother watching him.
"If you laugh," he warned in dire tones, "I will feel no compunction whatsoever about kicking you into the coffee table and then making you run laps." Caliban saluted.
"Marching orders taken, officer." But the corner of his mouth was quirked, slightly, as Niko sniffed the Thing once, again, and took a cautious nibble. It was good. Too sweet, of course, but…
And before he realized it, the Oreo was gone and his brother seemed to be fighting not to laugh. Niko straightened his shirt and gave Cal his most withering stare.
"Good, isn't it?" Cal said. Niko allowed for a stiff nod.
"It wasn't inedible," he said, stiffly. There was a long pause. Caliban snorted and Niko crossed his arms. "Up, grasshopper," he said, "We're going running." His brother hardly seemed bothered.
"Next time I'm out and the guy's selling them, I'll get you a box of your own," Cal offered, and Niko couldn't resist taking him in a headlock and fuzzing his hair.
"And then you will be a very dead little brother," he intoned, but affectionately, and Cal knew what he meant.