Kobe Beef


Noah and I sat on the roof of a parking garage in Dubai eating sushi while Nathaniel zoomed around the city clearing out the last of the demons.

“Toss me a tuna,” Noah said and opened his mouth.

“It’s the last one. Trade me a spicy crab.”

Noah fed me with his chopsticks after he caught the piece I tossed in his mouth.

“Are you guys really going to just sit there eating?” Lyle walked up and asked after an explosion went off in the distance.

“No, I was thinking of beating the shit out of you too,” Noah threatened.

“Be good,” I warned and hit him on the arm.

“He started it.”

I pulled Noah down to put his head on my lap so that I could cover his mouth.

“I still can’t get over seeing you together,” Lyle said to me. “It’s gotta be like hugging a hand grenade.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Noah mumbled under my hand.

“Nah, he’s a big cuddly mush,” I told Lyle and scratched under Noah’s chin how he liked it.

“Yeah, a real kitten.”

“He’s lucky I’m full of fish or I’d go over there,” Noah said after a bright flash and another explosion in the background.

“I know, tiger.” I rubbed his belly.

“I would.”

“Anyway,” Lyle interrupted. “Looks like your boy is really cleaning up out there.”

Right after he said that, the cab of a semi came flying toward us that I caught in midair. A streak of light shot across the sky after it.

“Sorry,” Nathaniel apologized upon appearing from the light. He took the truck from my telekinetic grip and crumpled it like a tin can before pitching it into outer space and flying off again.

“He’s the best,” I said with pride.

Lyle came over and sat next to me now that Noah had quieted down. “You have any fortune cookies left? I’m starving.”

“Those are Chinese, sushi is Japanese, you dumbass,” Noah snapped.

“Actually they’re American,” Lyle corrected. “And a lot of take-out places are Chinese-Japanese fusions.”

“I’m going to jam my chopsticks in his eyes,” Noah growled. I took them out of his hand and checked our take-out bag for Lyle.

“No cookies, but we have sashimi that we didn’t get to.”

“Drop that fish right here.” Noah pointed to his opened mouth.

“You’ve had enough,” I said and handed it over to Lyle.

“Hey, I bought that!” Noah complained. “You don’t take food from a tiger.”

“First, no you didn’t. You walked behind the counter and served yourself like it was a buffet,” I told him.

“I thought it was,” he grinned and pulled his hood over his eyes.

“Second, you sleep eighteen hours a day and eat for the other six. You’re becoming more pig than tiger.”

“100% Grade A beefcake.” He flexed his bicep.

“Beef is cow, not pig,” Lyle said with his mouth full.

Noah's eyes narrowed. “I hate him so much.”