The Strength of England

~8~

"Hope that damn little thief gets a good gulp of this." Juliet muttered under her breath as she added an assortment of food dyes to the container.

For a while now, her sweet tea, gumbo, po-boys, beignets, moon-pies, and pralines have gone missing before she could even taste them. It was irritating, she didn't mind Arthur's cooking, well when she could stomach it. He wasn't as horrible as everyone said, his bread pudding was amazing along with his jam roll, but she leaned on Carine for that style of cuisine. Juliet did feel bad for blaming Alfred for a bit, thinking he was the main culprit but he stated it wasn't him unless she gave it to him. From then on, she questioned and pondered on who it was. Each one coming to a dead end of questions. So now, she was going to give them a good dose of karma.

Grabbing the tobacco sauce, she dabbed it in and added a little array of peppers to give it a zing. She hoped that it would work in finding the damn fool, well they'd be sorry after taking a swig of this. After one last stir, she placed the green container back in the fridge and readied herself near the pantry door and waited. She normally wasn't one for get backs but it was starting to cost her a pretty penny every time she had to order new ingredients. She could still hear Arthur asking why she made her fish and chips with Old Bay and how blue he was when she told him that English food was slightly bland to her pallet.

The sound of footsteps coming to the kitchen silenced her running memories with the Brit as she waited. Sure enough, she heard them grab a glass and grab the container from the fridge, she waited on bated breath to see her culprit as the sudden cough and sputter as they took a drink.

"Gotcha!" she flew out of her spot.

The pitcher flew across the kitchen, landing in a splash of a mess, revealing to her Arthur at the fridge. Shock wasn't the word for her at that moment, there really wasn't much of a word to fill her wide eyes and gaping mouth. For days, he told her it wasn't him and had to be his brothers, even when she had him try it, he gave that grimacing face of dislike. Yet there he was, eyes turning red as he panted in burning pain at her.

"You caused that mess, it's yours not mine." he pointed to the concoction on the floor.

Juliet just stared a little more at him, still in awe of what was before her, "I gotta say I ain't even mad about the mess. I'm more surprised that I caught your hand in the cookie jar."

"That's preposterous!" he stated, "I was moving your tea to get to my own thank you."

"Is that why you look like you want to cry and panting like a dog?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Juliet walked over to him, seeing the beads of sweat form across his brow as he tried to hold back the pain on his tongue and lips, "I'll give you five seconds to admit you've been eating and drinking my stuff or I go tell everyone that I caught you eating my food."

"I have been eating and drinking your stuff for the last four months without letting you know, now please love, for everything that's Holy, how do I get rid of the pain?"

Juliet laughed as she handed him the container of milk as he dodged for the sink. She watched as he gulped down the white liquid, panting in between moments.

"What in god's name did you put in it?" he demanded, "It's like the devil himself decided to come up and piss in my mouth for his own jollies."

She doubled over in laughter at his explanation of his pain, "It's not funny Juliet. It's hell."

"Oh, you're right, it's not funny. It's freaking hilarious." she said, wiping a small tear away.

"Are you telling me you could handle whatever you did to that tea?" he asked.