Notes 1: It started snowing today. This is my fav chapter to write, it's so much fun! My least fave will be the three following after this because I have to write human emotion!

Notes 2: I think I was binge watching small houses on YouTube when this idea popped into my head. Either that or I was listening to Bastille. I love them. Most of my Helsa fics are a product of their songs. I wrote this chapter in advance before I watched the Party Bus episode but it's nice to see the alignment. Just shows how much I'm truly connected to Crazy Ex-girlfriend (should I be concerned?)

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white knight syndrome

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xi

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"Hold this." Is the first thing Hans says to Elsa as soon as they step out of Hans' flashy, red car.

Elsa doesn't even hesitate and grabs the handle. A sense of nostalgia washes over her, it feels like déjà vu with Hans asking Elsa to hold a pretty box containing an alcoholic cake. Except, this time, the bag is heavy. She holds it close to her chest with both hands, scared to drop it on the pavement and smash it into a billion pieces.

Her blue eyes watch Hans subconsciously reach out to tug his vest only to grasp air. He realises a little too late that he's not wearing his three piece suit. It's a small hiccup but it makes Hans almost seem human. Elsa still thinks it's so odd seeing Hans dress in something other than collared shirts, smartly fitted vests and slacks. It's different but not bad.

"So what's in here?" Elsa asks, referring to content she's cradling.

"Our ticket into that bus." He answers.

"… Bus?" Elsa looks up from trying to take a peek inside the bag. Are they travelling somewhere? She didn't sign up for this. She almost stops walking.

"Come." Hans says casually, one hand now on her lower back.

Hans guides her towards a bus that's lit up with crazy colours and booming with music. Near the door is a brunette man, distracted, face illuminated by his phone. A bouncer maybe? He's a little too lean to be so but …

"Um," Elsa chews on the bottom of her lip, her grip around the bag tightens.

"Relax." Hans says slightly into her ear then he yells "Flynn!" which makes Elsa flinch.

The man leaning against the side of the bus looks up from his phone then gaps at the two of them. "Well, look who finally decided to show up!" The brunette throws up his arms in greeting and pulls Hans away from Elsa, patting the redhead on the back. "How have you been, Hansy?"

"Awful." Hans answers.

"You're as depressing to hang out as ever." That was a joke.

All the while the conversation happens, Elsa just stands there, unable to move. Oh, welp, she guesses this is happening. Putting on a polite smile, Elsa waits for somebody to notice her and introduce one another. Well, she could do that herself but … she'd rather not.

"Elsa," Hans says while he beamed brightly. Hans is smiling! This is officially weird. "This is Flynn Rider." He gestures to the brunette. Up close, Elsa notes how Flynn has a goatee and mischievous brown eyes. "Flynn, this is Elsa."

Flynn finger-guns her hello.

"H – Hello, Flynn." Elsa would offer a wave if she wasn't still holding onto the heavy bag.

A glint shines behind Flynn's eyes as he looks at Elsa. "You can call me 'Eugene'. Unlike Hans, I actually like it when people call me by my real name."

Hans chuckles good-naturedly, bumping his fist against Eugene's (or Flynn's?) shoulder. "You didn't when you made that name up." The redhead says.

"I was seventeen! … Or was I eighteen? Somewhere there. I thought I needed a fresh start that wasn't college!" Eugene defends himself. "Plus, you've made some stupid choices too."

Elsa finds herself looking at Hans and his emerald eyes flit elsewhere. Does he feel … embarrassed?

Eugene continues, "Like those sideburns for example –"

"Shut up! I'm keeping them." Oh, Hans is definitely embarrassed!

"Is that the only thing you're keeping?" Eugene asks and there's a new glint in his brown eyes.

There's an insinuation that Elsa never got an answer to because Hans smoothly overlooks it like it's no big deal. "So, how's life on the road?" Hans asks instead.

"Oh, you know," Eugene says like he's talked about this a hundred times. "I feel like a hippie most of the time but we both know it's the life-style I wanted; travelling, fast food, not paying rent. I'm surprised you haven't followed me, the two of us never could stay in one place for too long, we get restless, that's why we're friends." Eugene explains, but it sounds more for Elsa's ears than just light story-telling.

"It's a rubbish life-style." Hans snorts.

Eugene points to Hans. "Hey, you wanted to live on a boat and sail around the world like one of the dad's from Mamma Mia!"

And suddenly Elsa recalls a somewhat-empty bedroom that Hans called his own. Specifically, the globe set at a corner. Elsa figures it wasn't so empty after all; there was something of sentimental value in his there.

"How is that dream any different from my bus?" Eugene's whining, pulling the blonde out of her thoughts.

Letting out a chuckle, Hans began laying down the facts, "Well, for one, it was a luxury yacht which is bigger and better than your tiny, second-hand bus –"

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there because (a) no one talks smack about my bus and (b) I think you're only mocking my beautiful home because you're jealous." Eugene utters, crossing his arms across his chest.

Raising a brow, Hans asks, "Jealous? Of a small, sweaty bus?"

"Partly." Eugene says, earning a snort from Hans. Elsa only watches the exchange. "Mostly –" Eugene continues. "– you're jealous that my dreams are a reality while yours aren't."

And Hans' reaction was priceless.

Maybe the men had forgotten that Elsa was there but a small chortle escaping from the back of her throat brought their gaze to her.

"Sorry," She says, cupping her free hand over her mouth, but she has to admit, Eugene got Hans good. She doesn't understand the difference either, of how living on a boat was a more luxuries accommodation when living in a bus customised for the same life conditions to be in a hobo-ic manner. They're the same thing in terms of travelling.

Eugene shrugs, not even caring how Hans would react. "It's fine, Elsa. We'll catch up on my adventures some other day when my tales are appreciated." He says dramatically then turns to Hans.

Thankfully, Hans composed himself by the time the attention was back on him. Again he tried to straighten his vest and again, he failed, before Hans says to his dear old friend, "Don't make me take back my house warming gift, Ryder."

"Is it money?" Eugene asks which causes Elsa to make a face.

"Close." Hans replies like he had no qualms handing out stacks of notes. "It's two of your favourite things: luxury and alcohol."

"It's wine, isn't it?" Flynn guesses, contemplating on whether to Hans into his party after the redhead had insulted his home.

"Close. Champagne."

"Oh wow, I think I love you."

"No." Han's answer came as fast as a lightning strike.

"You didn't even consider my feels!" Eugene blanches, obviously kidding.

"Your what?"

"My feelings! We could be goals, Hansy! True love! I'll come up with a hashtag our forever name! All I ask for is more champagne."

"No. Just let me into your bus before I leave with my gift."

Eugene fakes hurt for a moment, even offering an expression that was probably a smoulder, before grabbing the bag from Elsa. He doesn't want Hans taking it back. "Oh well, this bottle alone is good enough, hop on board, friends!" Eugene waves his arm in a gesture for Hans and Elsa to follow him. With a pull, the door swings open and music immediately blasts Elsa in the face. "Let's party!"

Eugene only makes it two steps up before a woman, also a brunette, blocks the way. Elsa notes that she's pretty, with her long dark hair pulled into a high ponytail, Greek nose and sharp purple eyes.

"Sup, Johansen." She greets, eyeing Eugene who passes her without even looking. It seems Eugene is more preoccupied with hiding his expensive booze than talking.

Hans' face breaks out into another smile. That's two in a span of fifteen minutes. Wow.

Elsa says nothing while this exchange goes on. Truthfully, all Elsa can think currently is: Hans, you have friends? Actual friends? What the hell?

Elsa thinks there's a moment until Hans says "Nothing much, Megara" with the same playful tone he used with Eugene. It's clear that he's purposely teasing this 'Megara' person.

Megara breaks their lovely reunion with a sharp, "You know I hate it when people call me that. What happened to calling me 'Meg'?" She's correcting Hans and pulling a frown.

Hans' face remains the same, unconvinced and amused. "You started it."

Eugene comes back just in time to steer Megara (Meg?) away before Hans can say something more.

"Eugene, you need to ban Hans, he's being annoying. He'll kill the party!" Meg says, causing Hans to snort.

"No can do, sweetheart, Hans got us champagne." Eugene shakes his head.

"Oh, never mind then. Well done." Meg offers a slow clap.

Hans does a quick little bow just to humour them.

Elsa doesn't say a word while the trio talk. She feels in a strange cross between being ignored and messing with a dynamic. Like that person who has to walk alone behind the others on a crowded sidewalk.

"The champagne will be saved for later, I want you all to enjoy yourselves because I spend a good hour making my party's playlist and the night –! It isn't even young, it's premature!" Eugene guides Meg back up the steps by the shoulders all while being the voice of reason to Hans and Meg. "I don't want to see none of this anymore. That's enough, you two need to stop picking on each other. You're friends –" Hans doesn't even try to hide his eyeroll. "–and it's been years since the whole shenanigans, grow up, the both of you!" Eugene rants, now at the top of the steps with Meg, then adds, "So are you coming or not, Hansy?"

Hans lets out a little huff but regardless follows the two brunettes. He doesn't even throw a look behind to see if Elsa's following.

And suddenly Elsa feels small and almost invisible like that first day she followed him out the office doors.

Mag, however, has to have the last say because her head pops back into the scene as she calls, "Don't forget to bring your little girlfriend, Joe!" Is that another cutesy nickname for 'Johansen'?

Those purple eyes didn't leave Elsa and, if it was possible, Elsa's actually changed her mind! Shrinking into oblivion and becoming invisible doesn't sound so bad!

"Meg, I swear if you call me that again, I will kill you." Hans says, not phased.

"Sound lovely." Meg clicks her tongue. She's about to disappear around the corner when Hans grumbles something under his breath. It sounded like 'weak ankles' and Meg's head pops up yet again. She really wants to have the last say. "I dare you to say that to my face!"

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It's 10 PM and the fact that Elsa's still dressed in jeans at this hour makes her feel like asking 'Is there any other bigger tragedy?' She should be in bed, dressed in her pyjamas and under layers of blankets, but instead, she's here, mingling. Eugene's dancing with Meg, they're singing along to Super Truper but it's the version sung by Meryl Streep. Hans has disappeared – again. It's something that seemed impossible given the size of the bus but he's out of sight and that's all Elsa can think about.

With her blue eyes glued to the sticky fold up dining table, Elsa tries not to panic among the bodies of people. She's left alone in a jam-packed space. God. Good God, what is she even doing here? Why did she agree to come? She feels so alienated.

Absent-mindedly, Elsa begins braiding her hair to do something. She starts thinking, starts blaming the situation on herself. Her fault for being awkward and bored out of her mind. Damn demons in her brain making her feel horrible about herself.

She's a logical person but it's so hard dealing with anxiety. It sucks.

Sure, okay, yes, it's true that she did get dressed and hopped into Hans' car. So it could be blameworthy on her but it could also be his fault. Was tonight even willing? … Maybe? But, she did all this for a reason, didn't she? Her night was so slow and quiet. And Elsa … secretly deep down to her toes did admit that she missed the small adventures Hans dragged her into. Yeah, maybe she did miss that part of her life but she's not –

She isn't that deprived of Hans to come all this way to a party where she knows nobody, right?

"I love this song!" Meg hollers, her voice yanks Elsa's gaze towards the brunette and her pretty purple dress. It matches her eyes. Meg points her microphone to Eugene who's really having a go at his solo.

Okay, not nobody. Elsa knows two people here but …

Great. Great. The only people Elsa's acquainted with just so happens to be the loudest people here. Elsa almost forgot the misery that came along with these adventures.

Closing her blue eyes in frustration, Elsa comes to a realisation that she is in fact that desperate. And also, she has to admit why she's succumbed to this desperation because she has missed Hans and she's willing to be here, dragged to this good awful death trap. What has this man done to her?

"JOE!" Meg yells.

And as if on cue, Eugene pulls a now visible Hans to his and Meg's side. Hans tries to shake Eugene's hold off him but it's difficult when the redhead's holding two drinks in his hands. It looks like the brunettes are trying to persuade Hans to sing with them. Even from a distance, Elsa hears bits of their enthusiastic shouts and pieces their conversations through words like "Sing with us!", "You suck!" and "Square up, ginger bitch!"

It seems like their whole friendship dynamic is mocking each other and pure sass.

At some point, Meg breaks out into hysterical laughter and must have tried to shove her microphone into Hans' full hands or something because a static sound echoes around the bus.

Elsa lifts her head higher to get a better view but it's hard considering the mass of people. What's going on? Honestly, Elsa does not understand the madness. But Elsa guesses Hans must have hit Meg back with the microphone or spilled one of the drinks of Meg's lovely purple dress because Eugene is suddenly a human shield and Hans is openly taunting at Meg's frustration. Is Hans even drunk as he does this or is this just the side Elsa's never seen?

Elsa is still staring and wondering when she sees Hans slip away from the chaos. Eugene is still holding Meg back and Hans is beaming at Elsa, hands now empty.

Elsa doesn't smile back. She freezes because of the way Hans is grinning. Hans is beaming at her the same way he does when he's near Eugene and Meg. It's a reflection of how happy he is when he's around his friends, when he speaks about Lars, when his mother calls. Hans has this sort of smile that told Elsa he was happy to see her. She doesn't know, something melted in her chest. It just –

It just felt really nice to have someone's first reaction of her to be a happy one, where the reason behind his smile is her; because he's glad she's there. And it occurs to Elsa how she doesn't even remember when Hans started smiling around her, let alone laugh openly, but it was nice.

That, however, doesn't stop her blue eyes from immediately yanking itself away.

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She doesn't even realise she was smiling back until it's too late.

Something's changed lately. Elsa can't tell what. Can't put a finger on it. Maybe it was her? Maybe it's him? Hans has been … softer?

Acting soft, at least. More joking and open after her withdrawal (or his disappearance), that is. And although some part of Elsa knows why, the other doesn't. And she doesn't know if she wants to understand. Is he ... changing? Because Elsa doesn't think she's influenced Hans by the slightest. She thinks she's the least influential person ever.

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Whatever it is, it's going to be a long night.

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She's still trying to wrap her head around it.

It's a party but on a bus. Small enough for maybe twenty people to squeeze in and dance and drink and make out. And Elsa never imagines him – the Hans Westergaard – of all people, to be associated with people who are not elite, who carry themselves with this 'I don't give a fuck' attitude because everything about Hans is usually so calculated and restrictive and well thought of with zero errors.

The whole event feels like a private thing thrown for a tightly knit group of friends. And because of this, Elsa feels out of place. She's only here because Hans is. Because he's convinced her. Because he's good at that; good at using his words and coaxing her and pretending like he knows her better than anyone she knows.

And soon she finds herself downing a few drinks. Mixing with a flurry of people, mixing words and mixing drinks because she still hasn't moved past vodka and soda, and that's a little embarrassing.

She's drunk.

And how can Elsa not be after they had that drinking game? The one where everyone and anyone pretty much asks ever basic question available to get each other hammered.

"Never have I ever ..." Meg rolls her tongue, thinking for a moment. Her thick ponytail swishes as she looks around the room, purple eyes dilated. "... braided my hair."

A majority of the girls either groan or rolls their eyes, someone's getting blackout drunk, before taking a sip of their alcoholic beverage. From the corner of Elsa's eyes, she sees Hans act defeated then mimes taking a shot. She can't help but snort at his stupidity and catches him smirk at her for reacting to it. That little –! Who knew he could be funny?

Eugene did end up opening that champagne bottle. He pops it like he's in a music video, and soon everyone has a glass in their hand.

Elsa makes a face when she takes her first sip. Um –

"Doesn't taste as nice, does it?" Hans asking, suppressing himself from laughing in her face. The tables have turned yet again. This time, her reaction is priceless to him.

"No, it's awful." Elsa admits. Would it be rude of her to just hand it to someone else or chuck it away? It's expensive but –

"Just because something's worth a lot of money, doesn't mean it's good." Hans says. Is he referring to himself because it sounds like an accurate description? Elsa doesn't get an answer. Doesn't even get to ask because Hans picks up her glass and downs it without a second thought.

She just stares at him. Wow, Hans is really set on 'celebrating' now.

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He has another drink and gets lost in a place he likes to call 'them'.

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God.

God, Elsa's so drunk.

She's just sat there and can do nothing but stare at the people around her. New friends, maybe? Or just acquaintances. They're mainly Hans' friends and – and, he really knows some lively people; mostly sarcastic and sassy and no-bullshit. They're all dancing on every available surface possible; on tables and long sofas. It's funny though because some of the people there are too tall and have to have their heads hunched over.

Ah, at least Elsa's settled down now. She's not as nervous as she was hours ago.

"Are you okay?" Hans asks, squeezing between three people. He hands over a cup to her.

Elsa slurs something at the table. Is the whole bus spinning or did some moron decide to drive the damn thing in circles around the empty parking lot? Either way, she can't be bothered to answer so she just bobs her head then takes the cup from Hans, thinking it must be water.

"Great." He says. Hans takes this as an invited to nudge his way into her seat.

If she felt claustrophobic and compressed before, now she feels even more so, pressed between him and the window. But she doesn't tell him this.

Elsa only takes a sip of her new drink before wanting to spit it back out. It's bitter.

"It's gin and tonic." He tells her, right in her ear because of the closeness, and she realises she must have said that thought out loud thanks to her loose tongue.

"Why would you give me more alcohol? I thought this was water." Elsa holds her cup moodily away from her.

Alcohol makes her feel lazy. If the table's surface wasn't so sticky she'd just plant herself on it and doze off. Her thoughts are flying all over the place. Thinking thinking thinking. What was Hans' logic, anyway? He asked if she was okay, it's only reasonable for a glass of water to be followed after, right? Why would he give her more of this crap –

"Well, aren't you a chatterbox, tonight?" Hans jokes. Oh, did she say that all out loud? "I gave you gin and tonic because I thought it'd be funny."

Of course.

The bright colourful lights are distorting her ability to tell what's what. But, annoyingly – Hans' bright red hair still stands out, still remains red. Elsa thinks, in this light, her blonde hair might look a hideous hue. Maybe toxic green?

"You're so mean." She reaches out and palms his face. "I don't want this." Elsa tells him, handing him back his drink, which he downs in one go, sipping at the exact place her lips had been seconds ago and –

She shouldn't –

"Oh my God." Elsa gaps. Something, a feeling, strikes her in the gut and she tries to palm Hans away further.

"What – ? Can you – Stop that." He tries to catch her hands. How is he so much better at acting sober while drunk? He drank so much more than her.

"No." Elsa pulls her hand back.

No. She will not be charmed by his face and his fancy champagne and – and his weirdly normal attire for tonight.

"You – "

She would knock her fists against the table but they're sticky and now she's paranoid and intoxication is a bitch. Why is she like this? She shouldn't like how she's watching Hans so closely. She shouldn't like how comfortable she feels around him, how his leg is casually pressed against hers, how she's just freely touching his face. This is so –

"Move." She says.

He blinks at her. "What?" She knows he's not saying this because of the loud music.

"Move." Elsa repeats. "I'm gonna – I, I need to sober up. I'm going … I'm going to get water." She slurs while trying to add some logic to her words for good measurements. This is bad.

She stands. And just when she thinks he won't – move, at least – because maybe, she thinks, he wants to keep her as a hostage and trap her in, he does. He does moves.

He stands by her side and waits for her to leave.

Elsa has this confused look for just a moment before it dawns on her that Hans may think she's about to puke her guts out. So she takes this opportunity to get as far away from the seat next to the window and him.

But it doesn't work out.

It turns out the bus was indeed moving and the vehicle lurches, everybody falls sideways.

Hans finds himself falling into an empty seat while Elsa doubles over him, slightly hovering, face shoved between the crook of his neck. Her blue eyes widen and her breath hitches, and he ... he laughs, strong and true, hands already stretched out and grasping her shoulders to steady her.

Her face is burning red. An apology crawls up her throat, "I – I'm so –"

"You've definitely had too much to drink." Hans says to her, cutting her off and ignoring what just happened; her literally falling for him, the alcohol spilt on his expensive shoes. "Go get your water. When the bus stops, we'll get out of here and sit somewhere so you can sober up properly."

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They don't make it far because they're stupidly drunk and can't even walk a straight line without looking at each other and bursting out into laughter like little children. They do, however, make it far enough for Eugene's blasting party music to sound like a faint hum.

Now that Elsa can see Hans walking, she knows damn well that he's hammered. Elsa bets he's so drunk that he would make out with a bush for a dare. But then again, she's intoxicated too and might do something wild. She doesn't know what but there's always a possibility of something happening.

They end up sat on a curb and talk like there's something to say.

"I like The Southern Isles." Elsa ends up blurting out while nursing her fourth cup of water.

"You do?" Hans hums. He sounds genuinely surprised but too buzzed to emphasise on it.

Elsa nods. "It gets a little boring at times, but it makes me feel safe."

"Safe?"

"Safe." She nods a second time. It's the alcohol talking but damn does it feel good to not hold her tongue all the time. Elsa can't even remember the last time she spoke so freely without feeling afraid. "It's so formal and professional and … I mean … sometimes work is slow and you and your brothers are kind of mean for not giving Lottie that printer she wanted –"

"Well, we couldn't." Even when he's drunk, he speaks so formally.

"Whaaat?" She slurs. She bets she could reach into the pockets of his jeans and steal his wallet now. Probably wouldn't make it far enough to a store that sells fancy office printers but – Alcohol makes her funny. Look at her thinking of the people she cares about when drunk, she's probably going to end up like those people who send 2 AM 'I love you' texts to their friends. "It's not like the printer's just for Lottie, it's just for that certain floor of the office –"

"I know."

"– I'm not saying get everyone an individual printer, that's asking for too much, I, I know my limit, but I'm just saying – I'm saying – I'm rambling."

He blinks his dark lashes at her slowly. "Yes. Yes, you are."

"What was I talking about?" Elsa pats her knees for a moment, thinking. Where did her cup go? She spilt it on the ground. Oh God, the ground! It's spinning and she's not even standing up, she's sitting. This is a shit show. She hates this!

"Printers." Hans faintly recalls. He's drunk. She can tell by the way he rolls his head on her shoulder and by the pink painted on his cheekbones. His emerald eyes are dilated too, going in and out of focus.

"Why?" Elsa asks. And just like that, she forgets about Lottie and the Southern belle's warnings.

"Who knows?" Hans answers then lifts his heavy head from her shoulder.

He turns to her and Elsa blinks her blonde lashes back at him in return. He's looking her in the eyes, holding her gaze, guiding her like a lighthouse for lost sailors. Or maybe drawing her in to drown like a sweet siren.

Then he places a decorated hand under her chin as he did just hours ago.

"Oh, Elsa –" He says. He's still smiling but something doesn't feel right. "– if only –"

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Notes 3: :)

Notes 4: "Who knew he could be funny?" Mulan. Mulan, knew what was up in iv.

25 January 2019