“OH FUCK OFF CHARLES!” Max yelled.

“Max I don’t think spaghetti is that big of a deal-“

“SHUT IT! YOU ALWAYS DO THIS!” Max spat.

Charles groaned.

“Baby-“

“FUCK YOU!”

you listened to them, behind the walls.

Mom and dad had..arguments. Sure.

This was turning big..very fast.

“Max genuinely can we not relate pasta to my bad luck?” Charles said, actually annoyed.

Oh no.

Dad was never annoyed.

And mom was getting more and more pissed-

“NO! I FUCKING WONT! YOUR SPAGHETTI SAUCE IS SHITTIER THAN MY DAD!”

whoa.

“TF?!”

and it lasted..

For a while.

Just screaming, screaming, even dad started screaming, before both of them stormed off to their rooms and slammed the door shut.

You sighed. This was not normal.

But..

Here ensues the silent treatment.

—

Next morning.

“{{user}}? Can you tell your father to sit there? instead of next to us?” Max mumbled, as he cuddled with you.

Charles pouted.

“Babyyyyyyy.” Trying to pull Max and you into his lap.

You groaned.

Great. Just great.