Notes: So I got a prompt the other day about Jack and the Monks getting dinner, one table over from each other. Gray Gusta.

The Most In Demand Table

It wasn't as if Jack asked for much. He was a simple man with simple desires. He just wanted to take the Heylin side out for dinner after they won some Shen Gong Wu and take over the world.

He didn't think it was a lot to ask for.

Evidently, it was.

He'd booked one of the most in demand tables at one of the hottest restaurants in LA. He'd stolen his dad's good credit card for this. He'd risked actual grounding for this.

And the Geek Squad just had to go and ruin all of his carefully laid plans as Little Miss Moneybags had booked the second most in demand table at one of the hottest restaurants in LA for the Loser Patrol. So, while he enjoyed the fried bananas with ginger, he had to stare at Chrome Dome.

Of course, they wouldn't even get past the appetizers before being escorted from the premises.

It all started when Ashley had to gloat. She looked up from her sushi and stared right at Hair Gel, pulled down her eyelid, and stuck out her tongue. Jack tried to ignore it. Years of being dragged the the country club had taught him how to behave at a proper dining establishment, even if most of the time he didn't care enough to try.

Tonight, he cared enough for the sake of both Evil and their famous lobster risotto.

The Air Head retaliated by causing a freak draft to muss her hair. She got her revenge by distracting the waiter carrying what she thought was his appetizer for long enough to sprinkle cat hair on the truffle fries. She had no way of knowing that the monks had decided to split the fries.

Cue Ball shrieked, but they otherwise ignored it. He doubted Rocks for Brains even noticed. And of course, that only made the situation worse as Team Heylin tried to get a reaction.

Le Mime threw an imaginary pebble into Kimiko's water. She rolled her eyes and asked for a refill. Wuya stole Raimundo's napkin, then complained again about having to wear shoes. Ashley kept making faces at them. Shadow slipped some bugs onto their table He even wound up flicking bits of bread and butter at the monks when the wait staff wasn't looking.

Then Chase had to take it one stop too far. Even he'd learned not to mess with the cowboy's food. Just as the monks' food was coming out, the fifteen hundred year old warlord stuck out his foot like a goddamn Evil Amateur and tripped the server. A shaved steak sandwich went flying landed in a barbecue saucy mess at Clay's feet.

"Why is it always my sandwich?" Clay said, looking forlornly at his fallen sandwich before standing up and walking right over to Chase Young. "Now sir, I'm not proud of what I'm about to do, I was raised to have good manners, but y'all've been tormentin' us this whole meal."

Without another word on the subject, he upended Chase's soup right into his lap.

After that, everything was a blur of flying food, shouted insults, ancient magic, and kung fu moves he was at least ninety five percent sure were made up. The next thing he knew, he'd been hit in the face with mashed potatoes and was being escorted out by the bus boy.

"Do you know who I am?" he said, fighting back against the asshole kicking him out. "I will have you fired."

"And I'll make you persona non grata," the bus boy said, shutting the door in his face. The rest of Team Heylin came stalking out a few minutes later, muttering about unreasonable service. And he knew there was only one explanation for this.

This was all the monks' fault.