The Budget Crisis
Hiro's Point of View
"You've been working pretty hard lately, you should give yourself a break," Tadashi said worriedly from his bed across the room.
"I invited Fiske over. He should be here soon and then I'll take a break," I said, absent-mindedly sketching a design for a new project I was considering doing.
The project was going to be incredibly difficult. It was also going to take cooperation from Tadashi. For a while now I've been thinking about making an artificial eye for Rosalie, which means that Tadashi was going to have to help me with the whole installing it into her head part of it. I had been doing extensive research over the past few months into this whole fake but working eye business and I think I can pull it off. I just have no idea how to get the damn thing into her head because I don't know the first thing about dragon anatomy. Rose might be an ass, but she's family now. And who knows? She might treat me a little better after I restore her eyesight.
I heard the familiar "I'm home!" followed by Mochi meowing in excitement. Fiske walked into our room a few minutes later with the big hair ball curled up in his arms. He went and made himself comfortable on my bed and continued snuggling the obnoxious feline.
"Did I give you permission to be in my space?" I asked in a snarky tone.
"Did I give you permission to speak?" Fiske asked, momentarily turning his attention away from Mochi.
"No I suppose you didn't," I replied, pushing my chair away from my desk, "You said you had homework that you needed help with?"
"Yeah, I missed school the other day and now I have to make up this stupid budget worksheet for Health class. So um, would you be my wife?" Fiske asked, holding up a bag of gummy bears.
"You propose to me over a bag of gummy bears. You truly put the ass in class. How could I possibly resist your charm?" I asked sarcastically before taking the candy from him.
"Well excuse me for trying to be creative," Fiske huffed, getting out his worksheet, "Alright, this seems simple enough. What kind of food do we buy on a regular basis?"
"I require cheese soufflés and apricot crepes for breakfast, Samundari Khazana Curry for lunch, and ratatouille for dinner," I replied, because there was no way in hell I was going to make this easy for him.
"Oh my god, we are not feeding our children that crap," Fiske retorted, "And I am not supporting your ridiculous meal regiments on an accountant's salary."
"Hold the fuck up, when did I agree to have kids with you?" I asked, smiling at his increasingly exasperated expression.
"You agreed to have two kids with me after you fucking married me. Now what kind of car do we drive?" Fiske asked.
"Well do we carpool or do we both have a car?" I asked.
"I don't know, one car sounds fine," Fiske replied.
"Oh so we're just assuming that I don't have a job then, is that it?" I asked, feigning offense, "Because as a woman I feel that I should be allowed to support our family too. I don't have to fit into the stay-at-home-mom role if I don't want to."
Fiske reached over and overturned a pile of papers off of my bed, "You're a god damn stay-at-home-mom now shut up and get back in the kitchen where you fucking belong!"
"Excuse me! I didn't want kids in the first place and now you're saying I have a designated role as your bitch and permanent nanny!? I don't get a say in anything in our relationship!? How dare you!" I said, trying really hard not to laugh.
"My god Hiro! What the hell do you want to fucking drive you piece of shit!?" Fiske asked.
"I want a Hummer! And I want it with one of those personalized license plates too," I replied.
Fiske could only muster an exasperated wheeze in response, then with a dramatic arm gesture added, "What the hell!? You wouldn't be able to see over the steering wheel! And if we got you a booster seat you couldn't reach the pedals!"
"Now you're telling me what I can and can't do!? Let me live my dreams Diane!" I said with a mocking dramatic arm gesture in return.
Fiske threw his worksheet up in the air to illustrate his anguish and despair, then asked, "Why the hell did I marry you!? And why the hell did you agree to marry me!? I seem to have done nothing that pleases you throughout our entire married life!"
"I only married you for your dick, not your personality!" I answered, laughing.
Fiske was now laughing also, "I knew that had to be part of it. Whenever we have sex you sound like an Asian prostitute."
"Wow, rude! I'd love to see things from your position, but I just can't seem get my head that far up my ass," I replied, clutching my belly a little because damn we were laughing hard now.
"If you're going to be two-faced, then at least make one of them pretty," Fiske retorted.
"You're so ugly that when your mom dropped you off at school he got fined for littering," I shot back.
"Worst. Wife. Ever!" Fiske said, shaking his head a bit.
"Why do I have to be the wife!?" I asked.
"Because you've always been my bitch," Fiske said, matter-of-factly.
Now it was my turn to wheeze in vexation, "I have not ever been, nor ever will be your bitch! You're a terrible husband!"
"You're a terrible wife! And your blowjobs are mediocre!" Fiske replied.
"You've gone too far!" I said, and without much forethought tackled Fiske clear off of my bed. Mochi went sailing away from us and ran to Tadashi for comfort and refuge.
We landed on a pile of pillows that I had majestically knocked onto the floor earlier that day, so at least it wasn't a hard landing. What I wasn't expecting was how fast Fiske had managed to roll over onto me and pin me down by the wrists. Flashbacks of the first Lion King started coming back. Simba trying to pounce on Nala and getting blindsided by Nala's intense bullshit. At least my situation was a little less humiliating, but I don't know why I was expecting anything different. It's not like he's seven inches taller than me and a lot physically stronger than me or anything like that… seriously screw tall people. That doesn't mean I'll give up without a fight though.
It must've looked pretty pathetic in retrospect. Seeing as Fiske and Tadashi both were laughing at me the whole damn time. I tried to wiggle my wrists out of Fiske's grasp and was getting absolutely nowhere at an incredible rate. Fiske sat on me and made himself comfortable right below my stomach like the ass he is, still holding my wrists hostage.
"This is domestic violence! I want my lawyer!" I complained, still thrashing about a bit in a sad attempt to free myself.
"Would you like some cheese with that whine?" Fiske asked.
"As a matter of fact I would! I want wine with my ratatouille!" I said indignantly.
"You are the most high maintenance partner in the history of the universe," Fiske said with a sigh.
"Could you come down here for a second?" I asked.
Fiske looked at me distrustfully for a moment, then like the gullible tard he is leaned down closer to me. He squealed like a girl and quickly rolled off of me when I licked his face. He wiped my saliva off with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and stood up.
"That's it! I can't do this anymore! I want a divorce!" Fiske declared.
"No! You can't leave me! How will I support myself!? Who will get custody of the children I didn't ask for! Who will satisfy me in bed!?" I asked dramatically from the floor where he had so mercilessly deserted me.
"I don't know Hiro. You'll find love again. I don't know when or how, but the day will come," Fiske replied, equally dramatically.
I thought now would be a fantastic time for a solo, "Baby come back! You can blame it all on me! Cuz it's probably my fault anyway!"
"No amount of second-rate singing can bring me back," Fiske replied.
I began another bout of substandard singing, "Don't you want me?! You know I can't believe it when you say that you don't need me!"
About there was when Fiske began singing with me. We sang together in a fabulously crappy duet, "It's much too late to find, when you think you've changed your mind! You'd better change it back or we will both be sorry! Don't you want me baby!? Don't you want me!? Oooooooh!"
"You're beautiful commonplace singing has convinced me that no, I cannot leave you. You are my muse. My flame," Fiske said, helping me up off of the floor.
We sat back down on my bed and I asked, "Did you ever finish your worksheet?"
"No," Fiske chuckled, "Everything escalated so quickly. We fell in and out of love faster than Taylor Swift, because I knew you were trouble when you walked in. Want to get remarried so we can finish this budget?"
"As long as it's a Jewish wedding," I said, then hastily shielded my face from the incoming pillow that was soaring towards me.
"I swear to god I just want to make a god damn budget like a normal fucking person and take care of my fictitious children the best I can, but you won't let that happen will you?" Fiske asked.
"I love you," I said smiling.
"I love you too, jackass," Fiske huffed, then turned back to the worksheet, "I think I'll just do this myself and pretend like my wife is normal and gives good blowjobs."
"I give fantastic blowjobs god damn it!" I said, then leaned over towards him, bit down on the zipper to his jeans, and pulled it down. I had never actually unzipped anyone's pants with my teeth before and I thought now would be a perfectly acceptable time to start.
I have never seen Fiske flail and fly away that fast before. Seriously, Sonic would've been proud. Fiske must've reached 150 fasts per hour at the rate he was going. He landed at the foot of the bed and looked at me with a mixture of confusion and offense. Then I pointed and laughed at him. Because friendship.
That's when Tadashi had to come out of nowhere and ruin my fun by saying, "That was gold. You two boneheads are going up on the internet."
I looked over a bit bewildered for a moment, then caught on that he had been recording us for god knows how long on his phone. He sat there with a smug grin on his face as Fiske and I stared at him in horror. How much of that had he gotten? Is he seriously that mean?
"Tadashi no!" I protested, "I forbid you to pull that bullshit."
"Too bad, Knucklehead," Tadashi said grinning, "I already sent it to the rest of our friends."
Then it was Tadashi's turn to shield his face from incoming projectiles. Fiske and I threw just about all of the clothes and pillows I own at the big flaming turd. This insolence was not going to be tolerated. That's about when Mochi was Bed, Bath, and Beyond done with our crap and left the room. I wasn't even sure if Fiske ever did finish that worksheet.
I am happy to say that the video never did make it onto the internet. That fabulous gay duet that Fiske and I had stayed between us, Tadashi, and the rest of the nerd lab. It wasn't entirely ideal, but at least we weren't on the internet being chastised by a bunch of strangers. What I didn't realize at the time was how much this day was foreshadowing my future.
(7 years later)
Fiske's Point of View
I hurriedly shoved about half of my life into my back pack. I had never been late to a class yet and I wasn't about to start today. College was hard on its own, but with all of this other crap happening around me it just made it three times more stressful. Hiro and I moved into our own place about two years ago. It had that Victorian feel with a touch of intricate Japanese design. We're currently living solely off of Hiro's paycheck because I can't seem to find a paying internship anywhere. It isn't bad, though. Hiro and Tadashi both had become world renowned in the global nerd community. Both are highly respected robotics geniuses. A big plus is that Hiro can do most of the work at home and take care of the kiddie winkles. He has his own nerd lab here where he does all of that sciency stuff that I never completely understood.
As I was shoving the last of my papers and junk into the bag, I heard a loud bang in the kitchen. I raced in to see a two year old inside of an overturned garbage can, and Hiro extracting him from it. Casey was always getting himself into things he shouldn't. And naturally Hiro was chastising him for it.
"Well, now you're where you belong, kid. Garbage. Like your father," Hiro said, picking bits of refuse out Casey's hair.
"Excuse you, crap pile. I am not garbage," I said, crossing my arms and glaring at Hiro.
He shrugged in response, "He's your kid when he's acting trashy. Friggin cry about it, Diane. I dare you."
I was in the middle of thinking up some witty remark when I heard a second crash and a cry of pain from upstairs. Terry had fallen over something and was very literally crying about it. I grumbled about being late for the first time in my life and started up the stair case towards the screeching five year old.
"Ter Bear? You alright?" I asked.
No answer from the child.
"Terry, can you hear me?" I asked as I got closer to the top of the stairs, starting to get worried.
Still no answer. I finally found Terry in the hallway, stuck in the laundry basket… Why are children so weird? Seriously, how does one get oneself stuck in the laundry basket? I started helping him out of it, questioning my own parenting methods. Where did I go wrong? When did I say it was acceptable for him to deal with his problems by throwing himself into a god damn laundry container? Unless he was planning on bleaching his sorrows away, but I highly doubt it.
"Terry, get out of there," I said, and when I managed to successfully remove him, I sat him in my lap, "Are you ok?"
"Do I sound ok!?" Terry asked, still in hysterics.
Definitely got that from Hiro's bullshitty side of the family. I carefully picked him up and carried him back downstairs and handed him to a very unimpressed looking Hiro. I felt really bad about having to leave him with a disaster area, but midterms await.
"Sorry, Dental Work. I'll make it up to you later. I promise," I said, kissing Hiro lightly on the cheek before handing him the wailing child.
"If I have to deal with Chernobyl here and bathe Oscar the Grouch by myself then you better make it good, Aryan Beach Boy," Hiro said half-jokingly, as he carried Terry over to the medicine cabinet to get out the Neosporin to patch up his scraped knee.
I was already grabbing my things and heading towards the door, "I'm really sorry, but I have to go. And who's Oscar?"
"The green guy who lives in the trash can on Sesame Street. Pay attention," Hiro retorted, "I love you."
"I love you too," I sighed, how we went from Sesame Street to I love you I will never understand.
I guiltily rushed off and then proceeded to sit there in each class worrying and stressing over the night to come. I knew that Hiro wasn't actually upset with me, that wasn't the issue. I had something pretty big planned for tonight. I had been waiting a long time for this, and I was anxious, excited, and scared shitless all at once. Is that even possible? Oh well, it is now. I probably shouldn't be freaking out nearly this much. Hiro and I have known each other for what feels like forever and we've been through so much together. And yet I'm still nervous.
When evening came around and my last test was over, I hustled back to the house about as fast as I had left that morning. I came home to find the kids asleep on an unconscious Hiro in front of the television. Fabulous. They had been watching the new Teen Titans show that was absolute crap. Oh well. I decided to ignore that fact for now and quietly snuck into the bedroom to get everything ready for when Hiro awakens from his child-induced coma. We could discuss his leniency on what kind of rubbish TV he lets the kids watch at a later date.
Rosalie scuttled in to see what I was up to and to offer assistance. And by offer assistance I mean get in my way as much as physically possible. I gave her chin scratches and belly rubs in an attempt to get her out of the way, but alas, it didn't really work. It's so difficult to make things look romantic and junk when your god damn dragon keeps knocking everything over and blowing out the candles.
After a little while of arguing over where things should be placed, either on the bedside table or the floor, Hiro finally decided to wake his dumb ass up. I made Rosalie go in the living room so she could knock stuff over in there, then I assisted Hiro in toting the kids upstairs to bed. As we were walking back down the stairs I couldn't help but fuss incessantly with the pull strings on my hoodie, I never really noticed that it become a nervous habit until Hiro pointed it out to me. Hiro immediately picked up on my bullshit.
"You seem a little off. You ok?" He asked worriedly.
"I'm perfectly fine," I replied, dropping the draw strings. I could feel a bit of heat rushing to my face. Great. Just what I wanted.
Hiro raised an eyebrow at me, "I swear, over the years you've gotten weirder. Now seriously, how are you making up for that crap you pulled this morning?"
"You know I had to leave! And I feel really bad about it!" I said defensively, "So let's go to the bedroom and I'll make it up to you."
"Oh so you think if you fuck me then I'll forgive you?" Hiro asked.
"Uh…" I began, but no other words were coming to mind. I knew that he wasn't really offended, just trying to be difficult. Though at the same time I didn't really know what the respond with.
"Wow. I've known you for how long now and you're still this articulate?" Hiro asked sarcastically. We were nearing the bedroom and my heart was starting to beat a little faster. Oh god, was I ready for this?
"Hey! I did something really nice for you now go in there and appreciate it, damn it!" I replied, playfully shoving him through the door.
Hiro started laughing as soon as he looked at the bed. Two gigantic, 5 pound gummy bears were laying on the comforter, one on top of the other. They were making love bathed in candlelight, surrounded by rose petals. My first idea was to have the gummy bears holding hands, but Hiro's a bit too vulgar for that level of mushy crap. That has been made apparent on a multitude of occasions. Last year on our anniversary I made a really sweet card and wrote a poem for him and everything. You know what he got me? A card that said on the front "I'd really like to hump you". And on the inside he wrote "Happy Anniversary Dildo. I can't wait to insult your face and steal your blankets at night for another year. I love you, you fat nasty trash". Needless to say it was the best card I had ever received and it is still sitting proudly above our mantel in the living room.
Hiro went over to go inspect the gummy bears, probably to see if they were real. When he poked one and it jiggled he was immediately entranced by the large mound of undulating gumminess and continued amusing himself for a good minute and a half. That gave me enough time to grow a pair and actually go through with this whole thing.
Hiro's Point of View
Jesus these gummy bears were the best thing I have ever seen in my entire life. After god knows how long of poking them I turned back to Fiske and froze. Why was he down on one knee? Then my heart stopped beating for a good minute after I saw the ring.
"Hiro Hamada, you gargantuan piece of shit, will you marry me?" Fiske asked.
I wasn't sure I was remembering to breathe. All I do know for sure is that my cheeks had to have been redder than Baymax's armor because there was a rush of warmth flooding up to my face at an alarming rate. It took a damn lot of restraint to get myself together. I don't think I've ever been this emotional before in my life.
"Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Fiske Frost, you almost as gargantuan piece of shit," I answered, and I almost started crying a little when he slipped the ring onto my finger. Almost.
After that began the big mushy, sentimental, feely festival. I helped Fiske up and we embraced each other for a while. I was still grinning like a big dumb gay when we let go of each other, and so was he. The rest of the night we snuggled and simply enjoyed each other's company. And we ate a lot of delicious gummy bear carcass. I have to admit, I honestly didn't believe that anyone would be bat shit crazy enough to marry someone like me. I'm definitely not complaining though. Right before we drifted off to sleep, I felt it necessary to let Fiske know just how much he means to me.
"You know, Fiske. I've tried to picture myself without you, and I can't," I said.
Fiske smiled, "I can't picture myself without you either. I mean, who else is going to steal the covers off of me at night?"
"Oh shut up," I said, lightly smacking him.
"I love you too, Hiro," Fiske replied, pulling me closer to him. We fell asleep like that, cuddling next to a pile of gummy bear remains. Seriously. Who proposes to someone over gummy bears?
We had a small wedding and kept it to just close friends and family. Toothless and Rosalie slept through a large portion of it snuggled together in the grass. Hiccup and Jack got pretty emotional but didn't go as far as to start crying or anything like that. Aunt Cass, Tadashi and Wasabi all cried, Gogo ordered them to woman up while Baymax told that it was alright to cry and that it was a natural response and all that jazz. Even Vanellope shed a few tears, though she'll never admit it a day in her life. Aunt Cass made the wedding cake herself like she had done for Tadashi and Honey Lemon a few years back. For ours she made a traditional wedding cake with little cherry blossoms made out of frosting littering the side of it, and an authentic looking Viking style plastic sword sticking out of the top of it. Did it look ridiculous? Yes, yes it did. But it really captured the essence of Aunt Cass's style and the dumb sense of humor Fiske and I share. And it was delicious.
The following year we obtained another kid, a boy we named Ari, and for years after that we had many more fantastic adventures to one day pass down to our herd of children. Inevitably the kiddie winkles began having really stupid adventures of their own as they got older. I finally understood what Tadashi had been going through all throughout my childhood. I was constantly trying to keep track of our offspring because all of them were danger prone and in near constant peril. Fiske still blames me for that. I don't think he's ever going to let it go. But that's alright. I love him anyways, and I definitely don't mind insulting his face and stealing his blankets for the rest of our lives.