Work Text:
"HEY MAN WERE r MY NANCHOS," said Sweet Bro plaintively, with a saucy twist of his hips.
Hella Jeff couldn't stop staring. Those sweatpants... that package... it was like... like a...
He licked his lips unconsciously. "IM SO HUNGRY BRO I HAD TO AET tHEM!!!"
Life was not sweet for Sweet Bro at that moment. His nanchos had been waiting for him all week. Why now? Why did cruel fate have to disappear them just when he'd finally beaten Metal Clown 5 and wanted a snack? No.. not just wanted. When he really deserved a snack. Life deserved to give him a hot god.
"i COULD gET yOU A HOT gOD," Hella Jeff suggested humbly and with nigh-clairvoyant sensitivity, as was his wont. He was prone to these lapses of culinary judgement, when the things in the fridge were clearly marked as Hella Jeff's territory, but he always made up for it.
"YoU COULD GET mY HOT GOD!!!!1!!" Sweet Bro suggested subtly, because honestly his hot god was about to bust right on through his sweatpants and make some jelly if Hella Jeff kept licking his plump, moist lips in that terribly coy manner.
Hella Jeff, already at waist level on the floor amongst the carnage of Sweet Bro's nanchos, lunged for it happily like a terrier after a meat snack but with way less teeth out. "WHERE DOiNG THIS BRO! wHERE DOING IT!!1!!1"
And they did.