Bzzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzzz

Hans groaned in his sleep and rolled over to shut off his buzzing smartphone lying between a couple half empty krumkake bags and a spilled bottle of soda on coffee table. He groped around for the sleek, glossy phone he had newly purchased a few weeks ago and stabbed the screen with his hand to answer the call, not bothering to check the ID. He shoved it right next to his ear, the cold surface of his phone on his warm temple making shudder.

"Hello?" He mumbled drowsily. His voice cracked with tiredness and he swallowed. His throat felt parched and slightly sore.

"Hans! Hey buddy," the cheerful and much awake voice of his best friend since high school, Kristoff Bjorman came through his phone speaker loudly and painfully. Hans winced as he set his phone down.

"What?" He mumbled.

"Just wanted to check in with ya," Kristoff continued. "What have you done so far today?"

"It's... it's early morning," Hans replied.

"Hans, it's four pm. Even Anna is awake by now," Kristoff groaned, amused.

Hans glanced at the time at the top of the phone screen. It was nowhere near morning.

"Ugh, I slept in again," he said.

"Good job, sideburns," Kristoff said. "And let me guess, you're on your living room couch, covered in that Arendelle High blanket, with two opened bags of krumkake cookies and a spilled bottle of Solo on the coffee table."

"Um, how did you know that so... precisely?" Hans gulped suspiciously. He sat up.

"You're... also only in boxers," Kristoff added. He began to laugh.

Hans turned towards the half curtained window and almost screamed. Kristoff was perched on the small balcony outside the window, phone in hand.

"Kristoff!" Hans cried. "You scared me!"

"That's what best friends are for," Kristoff said cheerfully. "Now let me in."

The two men sat around the breakfast nook in Hans' kitchen, Hans slurping drowsily over a bowl of soggy instant muesli that had way too much milk, and Kristoff primly typing away on his laptop next to him. Late afternoon sunshine streamed through the windows; reflecting off the dirty dishes in the sink, the various paperwork scattered on the counter Hans yet had time to complete, and the microwave splattered with dried tomato sauce from last night's dinner "accident". Apparently, you weren't supposed to put a whole jar of sauce in the microwave and hope it would magically warm without exploding.

"Seriously dude? Ice harvesting videos? Again?" Hans choked out through a mouthful of oats as he saw Kristoff's laptop screen.

"It's satisfying!" Kristoff rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "I would do that all day, it looks like fun."

"Yeah, sawing away on a three foot block of ice from five to nine every day is fun," Hans replied sarcastically. "Look at that harvester's face. He's so into it."

"It's a lot deeper than that," Kristoff argued. "You see..."

As his friend rattled away at the importance and ideologies of ice harvesting, Hans' mind drifted. Last night, he had stayed up late binging epiosdes of Frikjent until the wee hours after a difficult day- err- night at work. Drawling over krumkake cookies and soda, he had fallen asleep in a wallowing pit of tiredness. His boss- Weselton- kept getting on his case, and his coworkers weren't being the most helpful. Lately, Hans had found it rather tiring to come back to the office every morning and to face the same old drama and unmet expectations set for him.

Back to the present, Hans pushed away his cereal bowl and set his head on his arm, feeling tired still.

"... and that concludes my ideologies," Kristoff finished. "Also, why is the whole microwave splattered with sauce?"

"Umm, no reason," Hans wiped his mouth with his arm. "Look, I had no plans for today. There wasn't really a reason to wake u-"

He looked up to see had Kristoff straightened his paperwork into two wrinkled stacks, wiped the microwave clean, had loaded the dishwasher, and was currently wiping the countertops.

"Aww kis, you didn't have to," Hans said appreciatively. He looked at the living room to see it had been whisked clean as well; the Arendelle Ungdomsskole blanket folded neatly on the couch, the bags of krumkake sealed with a chip clip, and the soda mopped up. "You really didn't."

"Your house is a whole mess," Kristoff groaned. "I couldn't help it."

"I could have used an extra hand," Hans said gratefully. "I just haven't been feeling like doing anything outside of work lately, trying to secure my position. And father keeps getting on my case. Weselton won't leave me alone-"

"Save it, save it," Kristoff interrupted. "I understand. Anyway, you're going out with me and Anna for dinner tonight. We're going to an expensive restaurant tonight which means you'll have to dress formal for once. I don't want you dragging yourself around in here when you could be having a good time. That's what weekends are for, right?"

"Ugh, fine."

"I'll pick you up at six fifteen sharp," Kristoff informed him. "Also, my next objective is to find a girl for your single arse."

Hans blushed. "Umm..."

"Yep. Get ready."

"Guess I can't get out of it," Hans joked. "Alright, I'll get ready."