author's note | i hate myself.

(and thank you all for the reviews, favs, and follows.)

the worst idea he ever had

"I wish we weren't in the dark, so you'd notice that I'm scowling at you."—"Shut up, Elsa."—"I wish I had paper and a pencil in front of me, so I could write a book about your exploits and call this chapter 'The Worst Idea He Ever Had.'"—"Fine. I'm not giving you chocolate." In other words, Elsa discovers migraines. / elsa, hans "friendly bonding times" — au modern-era

prompt vi: disclaimer

(vi. having a disclaimer taped to his head would really help)

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"Your ideas need to have one of those car disclaimers attached to them," Elsa blandly said, flicking a few bangs from where they were hanging teasingly over her eyes. "'Do not attempt to do this at home.'"

"I don't see," Hans said in a very supreme and very haughty tone of voice that was more akin to his natural personality than his façade of sunshine and rainbows was, "how going shopping for food at Costco requires a car disclaimer to be attached to its forefront."

Elsa's lips pressed together into an impossibly thin line, but she didn't say anything to contradict his statement.

"Besides!" and Hans considerably brightened, "I'm still trying to prove how great of a human being I can really be."

"Disembowel yourself and I may just consider it."

"How about this," Hans leered, "I'll buy you anything you want on this trip. What do you say, hmm? Don't all women love to shop?"

Elsa frowned darkly at him. "You are mistaking me for Anna, and I wish you would not be so quick to stereotype against me..." What's there of interest to buy in a fucking Costco, anyway?

Then her eyes landed upon the books section.

And a small smile crept across her face.

"Well...yes, actually," she said quietly. "That sounds nice."

prompt vii: food

(vii. does he seriously not know what a fucking drive-thru is)

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"So...you're telling me that I can just drive up to the window and get food?"

Elsa glanced at Hans, who was peering out the windshield at the little black box approaching in front of them as if it was taboo.

"Yep," she slowly said, "you just go up to the little speaker and tell them what you want. Then you drive up to the window and pick up your food." Elsa drummed her fingers against the steering wheel while she and Hans waited for the cars in front of them to finish ordering.

"So is it a robot?" Hans asked cluelessly.

"...What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Well you just told me that the speaker thing makes the food for us. So...is it a robot?"

"..."

"Well?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just having a hard time grasping the fact that an individual who is headed off to an Ivy League college can possibly be this stupid."

"Well, excuse me for not knowing something. They don't exactly have drive-thru robots from where I came."

Elsa resisted the urge to palm her face. "Have you never been to McDonald's before?"

He wrinkled his nose. "Why would I want to associate myself with such a greasy place?"

"There are people inside the restaurant who cook the food. Oh, come on, Hans, you eat at that fried chicken place all the time, you should know this. You're talking to me about 'too greasy?'"

"Yeah, but that place didn't have a drive-thru with a robot that takes your order."

"It's not a—"

"If it's not a robot, why does the voice coming out of the speakers sound robotic? And why aren't any of these people worried about it?"

"Oh, for the love of—" Elsa slammed her foot onto the ground in frustration, accidentally hit the accelerator, and then remembered that she was driving the car and narrowly avoided smashing into the black sedan in front of her and dying in a fiery explosion.

She turned back to Hans. "Yes, Hans, it's a robot that takes your order."

"Called it. So what does this...," Hans took a moment to read the sign on top of the menu screen, "'McDonald's' serve, exactly?"

"McDonald's sells hamburgers and stuff."

Hans scrunched up his nose at Elsa's answer. "The fuck is that?"

"..."

"What?" Hans irritably snapped.

Elsa swallowed.

"Are you secretly three years old or something?" she slowly asked.

"No. Why in the world would you say that?"

God save me.

prompt viii: shopping

(viii. on second thought maybe this wasn't such a good idea)

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Fucking Elsa.

Motherfucking Elsa.

Hans promised himself that he would never offer to do her any good deed again.

Elsa never made things easy. In fact, she was making things difficult for Hans right now. At the moment, motherfucking Elsa was standing on the other side of the cash register, swinging a blue umbrella around and almost punching the poor saleslady in the nose. Ever since they entered the fucking store, that damned grin never left her face.

And so here Hans was, in Costco, waiting in line with a basket full of things Elsa so desperately needed. By this point, he just wanted to get in and out of the store as soon as humanly possible.

Unfortunately, the man in front of him was holding up the line with a fat stack of coupons. And after a couple of minutes, Hans had finally had enough.

"Sir," Hans snapped, "do you really need to save twenty cents on that fucking apple juice?"

"Hey, screw you!" The man looked down into Hans's basket. "You act like what you're buying is so...important..."

The man's voice trailed off as he examined the contents of Hans's basket.

A few seconds of silence passed, before the man smirked at him.

"...You know what? Forget the coupons. It's obvious you're in a hurry."

The cashier rang up the man's items, and the little bastard raised his eyebrows at Hans on his way out. "You have a wonderful evening, sir."

"Hmm...that's weird." The cashier was examining Hans's purchases. "The price tag on all of these items have been scratched off. I need to do a price check."

Hans blanched.

He was stupid for not double-checking the items Elsa put in the basket. A total idiot.

Always making shit difficult.

Motherfucking Elsa was clearly trying not to die from laughter.

Hans prayed silently for her to die a long and painful death.

prompt ix: humiliation

(ix. mother. fucking. elsa)

.

This was, frankly, getting ridiculous.

Hans's face started to turn red from embarrassment as the cashier coughed awkwardly to hide her smile and the couple behind him stared at himknowingly while trying to suppress their laughter.

"You find everything okay, sir?"

"I did," Hans ground out. "I had a lot of help from my friend here."

Elsa quirked an eyebrow and Hans had to resist to urge to throttle her.

Motherfucking Elsa.

"Jack! Hey, Jack, get over here!" the woman shouted to a man restocking Tic-Tacs about six registers over. Instead of walking over so they could continue their conversation at an acceptable volume, the man yelled back from where he was standing.

"What do you want?!"

Hans was ready to melt into the ground and never be seen again.

They were really going to do this to him. In front of everybody.

"I need you to do a price check on a few things!"

"Like what?!"

"Two peach-scented candles, a six pack of strawberry-kiwi wine coolers, the 'Fifty Shades of Grey' book, one container of Vaseline, and..." The cashier paused to count out the last items. "Three cucumbers!"

Hans tried very hard not to start crying.

prompt x: date

(x. by this point the bitch deserves it)

.

And by this point, Elsa couldn't hold it in any longer. She laughed mercilessly, bent over almost double, as everyone in line stared at Hans.

If Anna were here right now, Hans wouldn't do something as cliché as asking her to bury him alive. No, he would end the shit quickly by having her drive a stalagmite through his eye socket.

Or are they called stalactites?

Did Anna even know what stalactites were? Hans made a mental note to ask her if she had the faintest clue what calcium carbonate was the next time he saw her.

"What was the name of that book again?!" Jack hollored again, tearing Hans out of his thoughts of self-mutilation.

The cashier cupped her hands around her mouth so she could amplify her voice. "FIFTY SHADES OF GREY!"

You know what? Fuck Anna and the stalactites. It would be a lot easier if I walked over to the hardware section and brained myself with the claw end of a hammer.

"Okay. Be back in a bit!"

To everyone else in line, "a bit" was three minutes of impatient groaning. To Hans, "a bit" felt like two hours of social suicide. While he was contemplating whether or not he had enough cash on him to buy a hammer as well, Jack finally returned with a slip of paper. The cashier looked at the paper and typed the item prices into her register before she finally looked up and smiled at Hans.

"That will be thirty-seven dollars and eighty-three cents, sir."

Hans practically threw his money at the cashier and waited impatiently while she printed out the receipt and gave him his change. Now that his suffering was finally over, he stomped over to Elsa and shoved the bag into her arms while the blonde, with a very red face, appeared to be in her last death throes upon the ground.

"So, Hans," she gasped, eyes still shining with mirth, "...What did you learn?"

"That you are literally an asshole?"

"Nice try, but no. What did you really learn?"

Hans pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I am never offering to buy you anything again."

"Well...you know, I had a lot of fun shopping with you today, so we should do it again sometime. I heard there was this little shop around the block that sells 'marital aides'."

A smirk was starting to spread across her face again.

Okay. That's it.

Hans had enough of this. If he was going to die of mortification in the middle of fucking Costco, of all places, then there was no way in hell he was going down alone. He laid a gentle hand on Elsa's cheek and gave her an grin that practically dripped with evil.

He wanted everyone to hear what she had to say next.

"C'mon, sweetie, let's hurry up and head home. We don't want to be late for date night again!"

Elsa's grin transformed into a look of naked disgust and horror as a few customers whistled and shouted catcalls at the them. Hans pried the umbrella from the stunned blonde's hand and sauntered out into the wet parking lot. He didn't bother waiting for Elsa as he opened the umbrella and walked toward the car. That demon could walk home for all he cared.

It's not like the bitch didn't deserve it.

(tbc)