Alfred liked it medium well but Arthur liked it well done. Well it was Arthur's turn to cook so anyone should've guessed he would overcook everything in his hand. And that includes steak.

"God, Arthur. I should've cooked today if I knew it's steak. Didn't I tell you that before?" the American voiced as he poked the ash-like supposed-to-be- food on his plate with a knife. Really, how could someone even cook as bad as this?

"What's wrong with it?" Arthur pulled a chair and sat on the opposite side, eyeing his own work. "It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? It's basically ash." Alfred frowned and sighed exasperatedly. "Look, I know you don't like it when I-"

"Well you don't have to eat it if you don't want to. Easy as that," Arthur said, eyes narrowed. "Like you said, it's ash. Or probably trash."

"Hold the fuck up- I didn't say anything about trash. I said-"

"You only said that to make me feel better."

"I did not!"

"Wow that's a surprise," the Brit rolled his eyes. "Now you can order your favourite McDonalds or something and kindly leave me."

"You're being ridiculous."

"When am I not?"

"When you're actually acting your age. Now you're acting like a brat!"

"You dare say that to me?" Arthur gritted his teeth and pointed his fork to Alfred.

"Hell yeah I do!" Alfred slammed the table and glared at the smaller man. "I fucking dare. I had enough of your shitty attitude-"

"How about you speak to your own self, Mister-that-actually-acts-his-age?! Huh? Do you think you're that-" But Alfred cut him off by jerking Arthur out of his chair and pinned him to the wall. "Alfred, get off of me or I'll-!"

"Or what?" He smirked, trapping Arthur in his arms.

Arthur lifted his hand to slap him but Alfred caught his wrist on time and pressed it on the wall on top of his head. Then, he leaned over to the Brit's ear, whispering;

"Wanna try that again, sweetheart?"


[ A/N: This is based on a tumblr post by imaginensfw ]