cheater; tradley

nineteen

Cheater ((19))

"It says baking soda, Tristan."

"This is baking soda!" The blonde boy calls, staring into the container in his hand.

"No, that's baking powder. We need the baking soda," Brad tries to explain, leaning on the counter next to his friend.

"What's the difference? They look the same to me."

Brad rolls his eyes in mock-annoyance, attempting to keep a straight face, but a grin forms as he takes the baking powder from the hands of his friend and rummages through Tristan's cupboards to find the correct ingredient.

"Tris, you don't have baking soda."

"What? Yes I do. It should be in the same drawer that the other baking thing was in. Here, wait, let me look..." Tristan nudges Bradley away, peering into the baking cupboard, and then all the other ones, when a sheepish smile appears on his face. "Okay, maybe I don't have any baking soda. So, um, do you want to go pick some up?"

Brad shakes his head, trying to remain stern once again, but he cracks a smile when Tristan grabs his hand in his own, tugging on his arm. "Fine. We're picking up baking soda and coming right back. We can't leave this cookie dough too long."

"Okay," the blonde coos happily, releasing his band mate's hand and running to the door to put on his shoes. "Ready?"

"In a minute, Tris," An amused look remains on the curly-haired boys face, and he covers the bowl of half-made cookie dough, sliding it into the fridge. "This should be in the fridge while we're gone."

"Are you ready now?"

"Where is all this energy coming from, blondie? Earlier today you were complaining about getting out of bed."

"Just put on your shoes."

"I'm going, I'm going."

-

The car ride holds no silence, Tristan's voice filling the quiet void the entire time. He just keeps on talking about nothing and everything all at once, and Brad encourages him by asking questions, hoping the energetic boy will calm down before they reach the store.

This plan fails, and the second Brad puts the car in park in one of the parking spots, Tristan is out of the car and speed-walking towards the shop.

"Tris," Brad shouts, leaving the vehicle and locking the doors behind him, rushing to catch up with his eager friend. "Tristan, wait up!"

"No!" The blonde shouts, running into the supermarket. By the time the younger boy reaches the entrance, he's lost Tristan.

"Tristan," Bradley calls, trying to keep his voice low as to not attract any attention but at the same time hoping to gain the attention of the older boy. "Tristan, where the hell did you go?"

Little giggles resonate from an aisle down and Brad groans, walking ever so casually to the next lane, only to catch a head of blonde hair dart away.

"Shit, Tris. What the hell are you doing?" the curly-haired boy mumbles to himself. And then, a little louder so his friend would hear, "Wait up, man."

"Come on, Brad. You're such a slowpoke."

Another eye roll. A quieter groan of annoyance. And then he gives in, racing to the next aisle to catch up with his shopping companion. "What are you doing, Tris?"

"I'm trying to find baking powder."

"Soda."

"Baking soda."