Author's Note: Fellow authors, stay tuned for our upcoming THEME SONG CHALLENGE ON "CHIT CHAT ON AUTHOR'S CORNER"! It'll be up soon!
Arsenic & Old Lace
"Hey, Bella," he called back as he stepped into the back foyer, knowing that ignoring his wife was punishable by a fate worse than the one he was already facing. And at this point, he was not in any position to compound his already considerable sins. The aroma of roasted tomatoes wafted through the air, and he sniffed appreciatively as he entered their bright and cheerful kitchen. "Something smells good," he offered as he met his wife's flashing eyes, hoping to find a small wiggle hole back into her good graces.
"Uh huh," JJ snorted as she reached for a wooden spoon in the stoneware crock. Moving toward the stove, she studiously ignored his presence as she reached over and clicked the nearby remote, sending the volume of the music into the stratosphere.
Rossi winced at the increased decibels, glancing around rapidly for any hope of silence. But there was none. His eyes caught an unexpected sight, and he cleared his throat as he stared at the unexpected yellow and black box sitting not-so innocently on the open shelf next to their stove. "Um...Bella?" he called out, wondering if she could even hear him over the blaring chorus that was now threatening to bust his eardrums. "Is there a reason why there's a box of rat poison next to the oregano?"
Glancing over her shoulder as she continued to stir the pot of fragrant marinara sauce, JJ shrugged as she stated, her tone neutral, "I hear it makes an excellent additive. In some cultures, it's considered a delicacy, you know."
"Which cultures would that be exactly? The ancient Byzantine era? I think those people are dead now, JJ!"
"Is that fear that I detect in your tone, Dave?" JJ asked, dropping the spatula to the stovetop and snatching the stereo remote from the counter. Pointing it, she jabbed her finger against the button, turning the volume down.
"Of course not," Dave lied baldly, mentally offering up a prayer of thanks for his continued hearing. "You'd never hurt me, Bella," he offered gamely, praying he was right.
"Now, you're placating me," JJ said, smiling stiffly, her eyes narrowing as she tapped her spoon against the metal pot. "Probably not your best move," she warned, turning back to the stove.
Taking a moment to catch his breath while her back was turned, Dave scrubbed a hand down his face, wondering how and the hell to even begin to dig his way out of the hole into which he appeared to be sinking rapidly. Hell, he was tempted to serve her up Derek and Reid's head on a pike. This was all their damned fault anyway. Evidently, JJ had torn chunks from both their hides this morning over incomplete paperwork and they'd cornered him over his morning coffee, demanding he do something about his less than cooperative, understanding wife.
Like he'd ever been able to control anything JJ decided to do, he mentally snorted.
"Are you going to say anything at all?" JJ asked sharply, snapping him out of his fantasy of maiming two of their best friends.
"I hear you're pretty angry with me," Dave stated conversationally, dropping one hand into his jeans pocket as he watched her grab a knife from the carving board and attack an onion like a deranged serial killer.
"What makes you say that?" JJ retorted, slamming down the knife with relish as she eyeballed him again.
"Mostly, Garcia," Dave said, shrugging one shoulder. "But your music," he said, lifting his chin toward the CD player behind her, "that was my first clue."
"It makes me feel better," JJ snapped, glaring accusingly at him as she scraped the minced onion into a nearby bowl. "Helps keep the hormones in check," she drawled, leaning forward over the counter to level him with a deadly stare.
"You took my statement this morning out of context, babe," Dave replied carefully. "I was…"
"You," she said, cutting him off as she sent the knife in her hand into the sink with a vicious flick of her wrist, "were making excuses for my very righteous anger by blaming my hormones, Rossi! I had a right to be pissed. I spent the better part of a day training those two morons in how to fill out those new reports! You and the rest of the team would be wise to leave my hormones out of any conversation you wish to have about me in the future! Every action has a reaction, Dave. Isn't that what you always tell me?"
"That reaction includes murder?" Dave asked evenly, eyeing the box on the counter with a raised brow.
"You're the one that taught me I ought to be prepared for anything if I married you," JJ smiled sweetly, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, slinging it in his direction. "The only thing I haven't figured out is where to dispose of your carcass."
"Well, it's heartening to know that you haven't quite covered all the bases yet," Dave replied dryly, slowly moving toward her as he dodged the flying linen.
"I'm warning you, Rossi," JJ seethed, her lips pressing tightly together. "Do not patronize me. I've had it with all of you. A woman can simply be pissed off and pregnant. And it can happen without having a damn thing to do with her hormones. If I were you, I'd carry that message back to all your little friends before I choose to whip up a batch of very special brownies."
"And you think it's normal to threaten mass murder in order to get your point across, huh?" Dave questioned, smoothly grabbing the still sealed box of arsenic from the counter.
"My goal is to make an everlasting impression on each one of you," JJ informed him with a smile as she cocked her head. "And don't think I didn't buy more than one box of that. My momma didn't raise fool, and I learned quite a few tricks from watching her deal with my daddy. I don't mind resorting to drastic measures if the situation warrants the usage of them."
"And today...," Dave began, fighting a rising grin as he dropped the box into the nearby trashcan.
"Definitely meets those requirements," JJ nodded decisively, resting her free hand on her rounded stomach.
"I swear," Dave vowed solemnly, holding up a hand as he swore, "I will spread your message far and wide, Bella."
"See that you do," JJ agreed with an arched brow. "Now, go set the table," she said, nodding toward the lace covered oak table in the dining room. "Morgan and Reid are coming for dinner," she informed him with an evil twinkle in her eyes. "And I made them a very special dessert," she told him, pulling a creamy chocolate custard from the depths of their refrigerator.
"You're rewarding them," Dave gaped, his jaw dropping open as he dropped a plate to the table with a clatter.
"Oh, not quite," JJ declared airily, gesturing toward the kitchen counter.
Turning Dave spied the empty laxative box on the counter.
"Do get rid of the evidence, will you?" JJ requested blandly as she dropped the crystal bowl on the counter.
And with one last admiring glance, Dave did as she bid him. After all, who was he to argue with a diabolical, pregnant genius? Being her evil sidekick was a step up from being the recipient of her rage.
And he could live with that.
He only hoped Morgan and Reid could do the same.