Oliver had only gone out for a little over two hours. Nothing strange or loud happened as he deposited his grocery bags on the kitchen counter. He stood still, listening to the silence, and for a moment, he giggled from thrill of Allen's possible retaliation. "This is more worrisome than something crashing to the floor." Clearing his throat, he called, "Allen?"

With no reply, the baker hurried to the foyer, and summoned the other man again. "Allen, what are you..." he lost himself to another fit of snickers. Oliver sucked in a loud inhale to level himself, "What are you doing you stupid...ha-ha!"

The back door loudly clattered, and he gasped, snapping his poor search of better words to an end. He hurried by the counter, only to skitter to a halt as a small dark intruder shot pass his feet. Oliver stared after the bulky, black fury flapping its near useless wings, clucking in fright. It ran around the tables as if it lost its head, but thankfully, there was no blood on the floor, only a few dark feathers.

Then, Oliver finally let out a shout of, "Why is there a chicken in my bakery?!"

Allen dashed out of the back room, eyes wide, and his head whipping side to side. Surprisingly, he was fully dressed. "Where'd he go?!" Without a coherent reply besides the heavy breaths coming from Oliver's nose, he hurried to the rows of tables, and swooped to the floor to crawl after the animal. "Come here, you! No need to be shy! Yeah, that's right!"

Oliver balled his hands into fists, glaring steadily at the chicken that softly clucked in Allen's arms. He backed away as the other man approached him. "Come on, babe, he ain't gon' bite you."

"Why did you bring a chicken into my shop?!"

"He's cute!" Allen pinched the rooster's beak so his mouth opened. "Look at that! They say even the meat is black."

Oliver eased his shoulders. "Y-you brought it here to eat? Who is going to slaughter it?"

Allen clutched the animal to his chest, blanching in great horror. "Nobody is eatin' him!" he snorted, and leaned down to kiss the rooster's crown. "Don't you worry, nobody eatin' you." He picked up his head, and demanded, "How could you even ask me that?!"

"I do not believe you," Oliver lamely shook his head. "Why did you bring...a chicken here, of all things? I thought I told you not to misbehave when I was-"

"I wasn't misbehavin'! You said you were lookin' fer a pet o' some sort!"

"Like a cat!"

"He can be just as good as a cat! An' he won't shed! Well, shed fur, I mean." Allen hovered closer, enticing Oliver with a soft grin. "You don't gotta walk him like a dog, either."

"O-oh, all right, if we must." Oliver slowly reached to run his fingertips over the bird's smooth feathers. "He needs a name, first."

Allen flashed a bright smile, testing him by pressing his nose to the top of his head. "He already got one. His name is Eegs, like eggs, but two E's, 'stead o' two G's. That's what he was called when I got him. He's a rescue!"

"Really?" Oliver kept his eyes trained on the chicken. "Where in the world would you rescue a chicken from?"

"Off the street?"

"There was a random chicken roaming the streets of an urban town? That is a tad hard to believe." He lifted his head, causing their noses to nearly brush one another, but the proximity was anything but intimate. "So, tell the truth. Where did you get it?"

An audible gulp ran down the other man's throat as his warm demeanor dropped to a look of horror. "You know, from the streets, like me. Chickens...always fightin', cause they're fierce lil' fellas."

Oliver gritted his teeth. "Allen."

His partner took a step back, wounding his arms tighter around the animal. "You're only gonna get mad."

"I am going to be more angry if you keep avoiding the truth!"

"Shit, Ollie," Allen skirted backwards around the counter to shield Eegs from the baker. "H-he was in this fightin' rink. I couldn't just stand by an' let some asshole claw him to bits! It was an unfair fight! That other rooster had metal claws implanted on him!"

Oliver stormed around the counter, and the other man backed away in an effort to preserve his and his pet's life. "You snuck off to a cock-fighting ring?! Do you know how dangerous that is?! What if the other players come after you for stealing one of their chickens?!"

Allen glanced from him to the windows quickly approaching his back. "Babe! You just said you'd get angrier if I didn't tell you! I told you the truth!"

"You could have been seriously injured for interfering! Did you even think about what could happen?!" Allen's back bumped into the glass, and he could only hold Eegs protectively as Oliver spat, "What would happen if you were hurt, or I found out that you ran off to some...fighting match, and gotten yourself killed?!"

"But I didn't, and neither did Eegs-"

"I don't give a damn about the stupid chicken!" Oliver blurted. Both of them widened their eyes at his outburst. He choked out against the sob building from stress, "Do you not understand? How distraught I would be if something happened to you? You act like you want to get hurt." Without allowing Allen to completely answer, "You act as if you think I enjoy your pain!"

"I don't, baby!"

"Then stop acting like it!"

The chicken began to struggle from the commotion. His claws reached to tear Allen's forearms, so his captor swooped down to release him, and sprung to his feet. "You mean all o' that?"

Through his own stream of sniffling and shaky breathing, Oliver hollered, "What do you think?!"

Eegs nipped at his shoelaces before scurrying away. However, the man kept his fierce, watery scowl on the pleading sight before him. "J-jeez, I really don't like to make you mad. I don't do it on purpose!"

"Oh, you don't?" Oliver let out weak chuckles, as that was what he knew to do in that kind of tense situation. Allen seemed concerned about the sudden laughter. "I suppose you do it on accident, then? Or you are being controlled by some poppet?"

"You know what I mean!"

"No, I really do not, Allen," Oliver admitted. He blinked in surprise as a faint ringing rose from the floor.

Allen heard it, too, and it spooked him more than any of Oliver's shouting. "Did you hear that?"

Nikolai's signal was small and short, but with enough distraction, Allen's mind could be far from it. Oliver drew a steadying breath, and wiped his eyes. "I do not know what you mean, but I know one thing. Whether it is that drives you to such stupidity, it must be ruined. Kicking and screaming did not work, but I have other ideas."

"Y-yeah?" A foolish smile rose Allen's cheeks. "What'chu plannin'? You gon' put me under house arrest, if it makes you feel better?"

"Hm, good idea," Oliver granted, "but no." Smearing the last of dampness from his cheeks, he put on a generic smile for the poker face Nikolai required of him to do. "You need a lesson."

"Huh?" Allen lightly grunted when the baker grabbed his shirt sleeve to tow him toward the counter. "H-hey, no, seriously, lesson? Whadda you gon' do? Spank me?"

"Do not sound so excited," Oliver said, pulling into the kitchen. "I am not aiming for something that is enjoyed on both parts. How will you learn, otherwise?"

"Uh, uh, okay. Hey, I never saw what was behind this door." When the basement door unlatched, and exposed a cave of darkness, Allen said, "Oh. I thought it was a closet o' some sort."

"Like I do not have plenty of those. Go down the stairs."

"What? Like fuck I am! That shit is creepy!"

Oliver blinked innocently at his partner. "I thought you wanted me to no longer be angry with you, Allen."

"I don't!"

"Then step down."

Allen glanced to the shadowed stairs, and back to the baker. "Fine, I'll do it. You don't got scary monsters down there, do you?"

"Would you go down if I did?"

"S-sure, babe. I was just askin' so I know what to expect."

Oliver swallowed a flattered giggle as the other man gripped the dark railing. He was supposed to be mad at him, not tittering like a love-struck idiot. As soon as Allen was halfway into the basement, he pulled the door shut behind the both of them. Allen drew a sharp breath, and the banister squeaked under his grip. "Babe?"

"Yes, darling?"

"What-" Allen sputtered when Oliver called from the bottom of the steps. "You were just-"

"Are you going to join me? Oh, what I am saying? Of course you are. Now." Oliver pressed a hand to his mouth to quell more laughter. He sounded so delightfully demanding! He hoped Nikolai would be proud.

"C-can we get some lights on first?"

"Yes, the light switch is on the right of the last step."

"At the bottom of the steps?! Who would...Why can't you turn it on?"

"You are closer."

"Fuck!" Allen spat from the voice blowing against his neck. "I get you're mad at me, but do you really have to creep me out?!"

"How rude," Oliver sneered. "You seem to be forgetting that you brought this on yourself. You want to fix it, do you not?"

"Fine! I'll turn on the damn light, okay?" Allen hesitated, most likely to stare down the invisible steps, before pressing against the wall to guide him the rest of the way. Oliver inhaled deeply, and summoned himself again. He blinked rapidly as the basement light's fluttered to life, and gazed at the long, black bag resting on top of the metal table before him. Allen was stiff against the wall, gawking with much more intensity. His mouth twitched upwards as he lightly scoffed. "Uh, babe?"

Oliver pinched the ribbon around his own neck, and tipped his head to the side. "Yes, dear?"

"What the fuck is that?"

"Come over here, and find out."

"That's a dead body!"

"It could be."

"Oliver!"

Oliver shivered as goose bumps pimpled beneath his clothes. "Stop making assumptions, and get over here."

"You scared me enough now, all right? I admit, I'm almost peein' my pants over here!"

"I guess we will stay here until then..."

Allen snorted, and disturbed smile tilted his mouth. "You...you're crazy, babe!"

"You are the one that makes me crazy, Allen. If you behave yourself a little more, then we would not have to do this."

"I'd said I'll be a good boy," the other man seethed, not sounding promising.

"You say you will, but there is nothing wrong about making sure of one's self. Open the bag."

Allen stuck to his glare.

"The wall will not protect you forever."

"I could go upstairs."

"Are you threatening me?"

He seemed to actually consider Oliver's half-demand, half-question. "Nah, baby. I seen freakier stuff than that. I ain't runnin' away."

"Really? Then I will ask you this; while you slowly but surely make your way over here, you like it when I bake you things, right?"

Allen finally let go of the wall, but lingered close to it before shuffling nearer to the middle of the room. An uneasy grin made its way on his face. "I like it when you go a lotta things, babe, so I ain't tryin' to make you mad at me."

"I am going mad because you do not think things through." Oliver gave his head a little shake, realizing he was going astray from the subject before him. "Do you know why my treats are so delectable?"

"It's a baker's secret, right? That's what Bella told me once!"

"Did she now?" Allen finally stopped a pace or two from the table, gawking at the suspicious bag. It was not obvious if it was a body in there, or not. It could be a lot of other things, based on its non-bodily shape. Oliver silently granted a job well done. "I think you would do well to know what the secret ingredient is..."

"You think that?" Allen dryly chuckled, but the noises died to a lame lament, "What is it?"

"Open the bag, and find out."

"Oh, fuck."

"And watch your tongue."

Allen curled his nose, and reached out with trembling fingers to the dull zipper attached to the base of the dark sack. "I swear if it's...ugh! Fuck!" He shook his head, and did a double take as a pale head of hair peeked out of the opening. He stumbled back on stiff legs, and tumbled onto his rear end. "Ow! What the fuck! Why is there a dead person in there?!"

"What else would be in a body bag, darling?" Oliver emerged from the other side of the table, grinning as the supposed dead man's eyes opened to glance at him with an equally wicked smile. "Sweets, perhaps? Toys? Unicorns?"

"You said not to assume!"

"I did, but sometimes assumptions wind up being correct."

"Stay over there!" Allen snarled as he scooted backwards with his palms and heels.

Oliver suddenly stopped, and put a hand to his chest. "I thought you would be happy that I am sharing this with you. You wanted, and needed this."

"H-happy?! You want me to be happy that I know that I've been fuckin' eatin' people for how long?!"

"Since day one? You should be happy that I am telling you this, so you know to straighten up your act. You do not want to be the next one on the table, do you?"

"Y-you've been feedin' me...Anabella, too?" Allen blanched, grasping his stomach. "Sweet ol' Bella. That's...that's fuckin' sick."

Oliver wondered how his cover was not blown yet by his own stupid giggles. Encouraged by Allen's sneakers scraping on the ground, he crept closer. "What is so sick about it, love? Why let precious bodies rot in wooden caskets when they can be dined upon and enjoyed? They are delicious, after all, right?"

"W-what? Ollie, why? You're...no,...that's...ugh, why you, Ollie?"

"Allen, do not act all afraid so suddenly now." Oliver slowly lowered himself to the floor, and pressed his palms ahead of himself to crawl toward his partner who stared with a great horror on his once loving face. He hesitated as the other shot backwards, away from him. Was it too far, even for a joke? He took a nervous laugh; at that moment, it was too late. "I am sure if you continued eating the things I make for you, you would not taste any difference now that you know my secret."

The other man's shoulder blades pressed against the wall, causing him to let out weak, wheezy laughter. "Some secret, Ollie."

Still, Oliver crept closer, and slid over Allen's legs. "Is that not what lovers do, though? We know each other's secrets..." He drew a finger up the fabric of the other's plain shirt, pausing under his chin, and smiled how his jaw trembled. Only the baker knew that terror was for naught. His housemate's reaction should be worth the pain his tongue was going through as he bit it to prevent bursting into laughter, ultimately ruining the act. "We know everything about one another..." He leaned forward, their cheeks grazing as he whispered pass his ear, "We love one another?"

Allen let out a few nervous grunts against his chest. "Are you gon' eat me?"

Oliver really had to bite down on his lower lip that time, to ward of any possible snickers from escaping his throat. "You should be a good boy, so I do not have to! I would be very, very, very sad if I were driven to such measures!"

"O-oh," Allen's breath was coming rather heavy. The baker leaned back to look at his face worryingly, but his partner was avoiding his eyes. "Th-the cops, though. They'll bust you fer this, babe-"

"I know what I am doing," Oliver assured him by giving his chest a generous rub, but that course of action only made the legs beneath him squirm even more. "These people are the ones that the police will not want to look for. Murderers, rapists, thieves...town nuisances that make a name of themselves...do not tangle yourself with those kind."

"So, you ain't popping random...possibly innocent people?"

"I happen to have morals, too, Allen," the baker batted his eyes as he fiddled with the other man's shirt collar. Another plus to this (fake?) madness was that he could touch his partner, without the gloating about him being supposedly angry! "What do you say, love? Are you going to stay and try to be a good boy?"

"S-stay? You think I'm gon' leave?"

Oliver's contented smile fell. "Are you?"

"Hm," Allen moistened his lips in a nervous gesture as his legs shifted awkwardly beneath the baker. Oliver had to hold back a happy chitter from the contact. "Babe, it's like before, where else am I gon' go to? I met some freaky people that did freaky things before..." his housemate trailed off, as check out the body over his while speaking coherently. "Shit, I think I might be a lil' crazy, too."

"You think so?!" Oliver clasped his cheeks between his palms. "Do you know how happy it makes me to hear you say that?!" He did not wait for a response, allowing himself to succumb to excitement, and speckle anywhere he could on Allen's face with kisses. The other man did not even question it; he eagerly sucked up the attention with equal giggles and bites.

Suddenly, Allen's legs jumped with a muffled yelp of fright. Oliver ripped away from him, panicking, "What? Are my hands too cold?"

"I swore that fuckin' thing moved!"

"What thing?"

Allen jabbed a finger toward the table. "That thing!"

Oliver looked over his shoulder. "Allen, it's a dead body. It can't move." His housemate only let out a scared noise from the back of his throat without tearing his eyes from the bag. "Will it make you feel better to check to see how warm it is?"

"I really don't wanna go near that thing."

"He...it will not bite. It is dead." Oliver tugged on Allen's shirt as he scooted away. "Come on, darling."

"What if it's a zombie?!"

"Zombies are not real," he lied. "Besides, if that was a zombie, would you bash its brains in, when it would come after me?"

"Sure, crazy..." Allen grunted as he stood on stiff legs. "W-what'd'ya gon' do wit' it, anyway, when you're...you know...done?"

Oliver was much quicker and willing to approach the table, walking around it as if to survey the half exposed body. "Someone is supposed to come pick it up, but he did not do it yet, leaving me with the thing to rot. Is that horrible? Look at the size of this lug! How in the world am I supposed to get it anywhere?!"

"H-how'd the body get here in the first place?"

"Remember what I said about Luciano's gang working for me?"

"Oh."

"Come on!" Oliver coaxed as he bounced on his toes. "Are you going to help me with this thing or not?"

"You want me to help you hide a body?!"

"Yes, please!"

"Shit!" Allen groaned, as if it were such a chore. "It's one thing to...ugh, never mind," he intelligently dropped whatever he was going to ramble about from Oliver's furious pout. "You're lucky you're cute!"

"Excuse you! I am very manly!"

"Sure thing. Let's...uh...get this thing out of here 'fore it starts stinkin'." Allen stared at the pale face peeking out of the opening. The smell of chemicals wafted from the still body, then familiar to Oliver, but proved to be vaguely sickening to his partner. "There's a large dumping ground a lil' ways from here. If we bury him in enough junk...babe, are you really sure about this?"

"Allen, it has been done before. Plenty of times. As I said, nobody would want to look for these kinds of people."

"Yeah, but what kind o' guy was this one?" Allen slowly inclined to stare at the opaque goggles that rested on the body's forehead. "He kinda looks like..." He furrowed his eyebrows, and tugged on the zipper to expose the rubbery garments of a surgeon. "He looks like some kind o' doctor."

"Oh well," Oliver shrugged, beaming at the ceiling. "He is dead, now."

"Okay, okay. Let's get this done an' over wit'." Allen reached to grab the dull scarf around the 'dead' man's shoulders, and shift it over on both sides of him. One of the large hands flew up and wrapped around Allen's wrist.

Nikolai's eyes fluttered open to a sweet grin, and a sharp intake of air from the invader. "Please, no touching of the scarf. It is very important to me."

The basement was filled with a high shriek. Allen ripped away from the operator, and flew back onto his butt again. "Holy shit!" He arched his back from the force of his fall, and gasped in a lesser tone, "Holy shit."

Oliver could finally let up all that built laughter as Nikolai rose to sit, mimicking a zombie lifting itself from its grave. He added his own breathy chuckles, and unzipped the rest of the bag to free himself. Both left the table to stand beside Allen, looking down at him with matching grins. The surgeon chirped, "How is the weather down there?"

Allen choked out, "Fuck you."

Oliver knelt down, and tapped his partner's nose. "Did you forget about my medical run we went on that one time? That is what happens to the organs. Nikolai dissects the bodies, and is kind enough to get rid of them, so neither of us have to!"

"What is real anymore?"

"They are still criminals, dear, but I certainly do not put anything pertaining with this business into my baking! Blood and guts would ruin the batter and cook times!"

"You're crazy!"

Nikolai hummed, "Who is not, really?"

Oliver shamed, "That is very hypocritical of you, Allen. You are still here. Crazies stick together, darling."

Allen's tanned skin looked discolored, like a ghost sucked his soul out of his pores. "Why the fuck did you do that?"

"I already told you! You were being a bad boy! How would I get it through your thick skull, otherwise!" He bent down to pat Allen's cheek, cooing, "You are an idiot, after all."

The only thing Allen could manage to say in the situation was, "Well, shit. Are you still mad at me, despite all o' this?!"

Oliver waggled his head side to side, mocking deep thought. "I suppose I traumatized you enough for today. No, you are forgiven."

"Phew, okay. Okay, yeah." Allen was still trying to get his heart rate down. "But next time, we're gonna sit down an' talk 'bout our problems like mature adults, right? Right, Ollie?"

Nikolai let out a little giggle, and Oliver's face began to flare up from the embarrassment of his actions crashing down on his head. "Yes, we will talk."

A.N.- Kudos to you if you know where the chicken originated from. If not, Eegs (yes, with two E's) is NOT my character. Credit goes to KyoKoon on YouTube for making such a marvelous beast.