rob x crivvy dumptruck love

Crivvy

Crivvy was a great person.
He always helped out friends and was generally kind to everyone. Everyone loved him. But his life was painfully average: just like Rob, he was stuck in a daily cycle of monotony. Home. School. Work. Home again. Day in, day out. Rob and Crivvy had been best friends as long as Crivvy could remember.
But Crivvy wanted more.
It wasn't even that he wanted the attention from Rob; at this point, it had become a necessity. An addiction. As natural as breathing air. No, Crivvy didn't want the attention. He needed it.
Since they'd hit high school, Rob had become busy. He was always at work, or playing sports, or studying, or whatever else Rob spent his days doing. Their friendship was fading.
Crivvy looked down at the road beneath his feet. Scuffed his shoes at the gravel. There was a pit at the bottom of his gut; he fought tears. He couldn't bear to think of losing Rob.

The sound of a motor grabbed Crivvy out of his thoughts.
Whirling around, he realized a van was following him; it was decidedly sketchy, he thought, turning the corner.
The van followed him.
Maybe it was just a coincidence. He turned again, and again, the van followed him. Again. And again. Panic rose in Crivvy's chest. Before he could call the police, run home, anything, the motor stopped, a figure leapt out of the van, and in a blur, wrapped their arms around him.

Instantaneously, instinctively, Crivvy's leg shot out, then the other, kicking, struggling, doing anything to break free of the stranger's grasp. He twisted in their arms-- to no avail. Before he knew it, he had landed with a thud on the cold floor of the van, dull pain shooting up his body.

The figure turned to face him. "Are you Crivvy?"
It was a female voice. Crivvy frowned. "I'm not telling you a thing until you let me out of here."
The woman glanced behind her. Pulled down her mask. "Look, Crivvy. I don't have a lot of time to tell you this." Her words tumbled out of her like water over a ledge; fast, barely coherent, all at once. "Your friend Rob? He's been kidnapped. By an organization called FUTS. They turn people into animals, and they're building an army the likes of which the world has ever seen. They won't stop until they achieve global domination. We have to end them." She paused, breathed. "We think you're the only one who can do it. My name's M. Rob has already been turned into a chicken. You-"
"-WAIT!" interjected Crivvy, sitting bolt upright. "No, no, that can't be right. That-- I mean-- Rob? MY precious Rob? Turned into a chicken? He's a chicken? I can't--"
"--Listen," said M, pulling Crivvy out of his worried ramble. "Try and keep up. As I said, we don't have much time. I'll just give you the basics now. You need to save him. We think you're his soulmate. Only a true love's kiss can turn him back to normal."
Crivvy froze.
M was still talking, this he was vaguely aware of. But the words were garbled. He felt as if he were underwater. His head swam, and an unfamiliar tenseness grew in his chest.
Sheesh, thought Crivvy.
So I get to kiss him.