I should start by saying my friend made me write this; it was based on a conversation with her. This is seriously 100% crack but any excuse to write these two is good enough for me.

Going out drinking was a terrible idea, but for some reason, Chris actually had fun with his younger brother. He didn't drink too much while Thomas really knocked out the drinks, but regardless, for the first time in years, the two of them could finally enjoy each other's company. And it felt pretty damn good, as well.

When they came home, they were both pretty hungry, the tell-tale sign being the low rumble in both of their stomachs. Well, a snack before bed couldn't have hurt. Though if Chris was sober, he probably would have gone against that idea, but sober Chris wasn't around just then. When Thomas flicked on the kitchen's light, there was one item that stuck out on the counted.

There, on the counter, sat a delicious bucket of KFC they had started earlier but couldn't finish it.

Upon looking into the bucket, it was almost full with bits of chicken, which meant both legs were still in there. Both of them took a leg, but only Thomas started eating his leg. Chris looked down at it for a few moments.

"I really love chicken legs," Chris sighed. Thomas nodded before taking a big bite out of his own.
"I could kiss it," he muttered.
"I could take it out on a romantic dinner."
"I could take it out for a movie."
"I could marry it."
"I could," Thomas started as he stole Chris' chicken leg and took a bite out of it, having finished his own "eat it."

And in that moment, the oldest brother's world felt completely shattered. His one true love was being devoured by his brother. He could only watch as his heart was ripped to shreds in time with Thomas' bites. For a second, he swore he felt the prickle of tears forming in his eyes. No, no tears. There was no room for weakness.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Thomas had finished. He dumped the bones on the worktop and looked utterly satisfied. But when he looked into his brother's sad eyes, he knew he had done wrong. Remorse enveloped his heart like wrapping paper. What had he done? His mind formed the apologies his tongue could not utter.

"How could you do this?" Chris whispered. Thomas recognised that gleam in his brother's blue eyes; he was deeply upset. But there was nothing that could have been done about that leg now. It was gone.
"I'm sorry, V, I was hungry and—"
"You're a traitor. How could you eat my true love?!" he asked.
"V, I need to tell you something. I'm…I'm the chicken leg God."

Chris froze. This couldn't have been happening. But when he gently touched Thomas' face, it really did feel like a chicken leg. He recoiled his hand, horrified. He took a step back, fear washing over him.

"But then…"
"Yeah. I'm a cannibal. You don't understand. I need to rule an odd number of chicken legs, so I had to," Thomas admitted. He looked away, unable to meet his brother's gaze. He was so ashamed of this secret.
"I can't do this. I'm sorry." Chris took the bucket and staggered his way to the living room, sitting on the couch and staring at the television. It was off.
"Chris? Do you hate me?" he asked as he followed the older brother. He shook his head. "Do you want me to go?" Again, he shook his head. Finally, there was some good news through this whole mess. He sat down next to Chris.
"We can hide this. We can hide the evidence; no one will ever have to know," Chris said. His voice was a croak, and he didn't look at his brother.
"Thanks," Thomas muttered.

The next morning, Mihael found an odd sight in the living room. His older brothers had sprawled out of the couch, cuddling each other, with half-eaten pieces of KFC chicken littering the floor. He hadn't seen them so close in a long time, and decided not to wake them up. He did like seeing them like this. It was nice seeing them be peaceful together, even if they were both asleep. After all, it seemed like every time they were together, they got in some sort of fight.

Mihael picked up the pieces of chicken along with the bucket and placed a blanket over the sleeping pair. On the coffee table, he left two glasses of water and painkillers. He had a feeling they would need them.