Through Hard Times. (Fantastic Foursome Fanfiction)

Hazardous Crabstickz

“Easy!” Chris yelled, gripping the ‘Oh shit’ handle that was placed just above his window.         

“Calm your tits!” I yelled back, slamming the brake, again. This is so weird! I can’t handle it! I’m on the wrong side, his gas is touchy, and the roads are so narrow. A car honked behind me and I stuck my hand out the window, giving them the finger; I’m working on it! I started messing with the gearshift, I’ve always driven an automatic! This is so difficult! I hit the gas, but the car stalled. The hell?! The car behind me honked again and I slammed my fists on the wheel.

“Damnit!” I tried shifting the car into park, but then gave up and opened the door, stepping out into the road and crossing over to the passenger’s seat,

“What the hell are you doing?” Chris yelled, getting out of the car,

“You drive!” I snapped, stepping around him into his seat. He turned and waved to the car behind me before walking over to the driver’s door, giving a silent apology and driving off.

“Do you even know how to drive?” He asked with a chuckle as we cruised down in between buildings,

“Yes! Well… kind of…” I muttered, crossing my arms in front on my chest,

“Wait, what does ‘kind of’ mean?” He glanced at me as he stopped at a red light.

“Well… I have my permit…” I mumbled. Okay! So I never really learned how to drive! I always walked everywhere, can you blame me? Chris laughed as he continued down the street,

“Wow… WOW.” He chuckled, pulling into a driveway, “You could’ve seriously KILLED me.”

“I didn’t though!” I protested, getting out the car as Chris popped the trunk. I filled my arms with groceries as he grabbed my suitcase. My arms felt like they were about to fall off once we made it to the front door, “I don’t think this is fair,” I gasped, almost dropping the milk.

“It’s not.” He said simply, pushing the door open, walking in the house in slow motion. Dick.

“Really, Chris? Move!” He laughed and stepped aside, letting me in. I set down the groceries the second I stepped into the kitchen,

“That’s what you get for paying for themmmm!” He sang, giving me a ‘shit happens’ shrug. I rolled my eyes and started sorting the groceries out, putting the vegetables on one counter, dry food on another, ect. I have a slight disposition when it came to putting things away. It had to be in the right order, all organized, all symmetrical.

“No!” Chris snapped, slapping my hand, “I’m cooking! Now. Out! Out, out, out!” He shooed, pushing me out into the living room. I sighed and sat on the couch, grateful for the plooshy-ness.

“What are you cooking?” I called, closing my eyes.

“I don’t know! That’ why I got a lot of groceries!”

“Can you give me a hint?”

“How can I give you a hint if I don’t even know what I’m making?” I face palmed myself,

“I’m tired! Don’t question me, peasant!” I rolled off the couch and onto soft carpet before crawling over to his DVD shelf, silently laughing about how much I sounded like Dan.

I looked around at the small-ish living room, the cream carpets setting off the baby blue walls. I like his house. It’s small, but comfortably small.

“What do you want?” I looked over the DVD’s pondering the question, errrrmmm,

“Grilled cheese?” I asked. That’s easy enough. I don’t want him to burn the house down…