"Agh," was all Gilbert took no hesitation to groan while he lugged the rest of the large sacks into the trunk of the rental car, sporting one of those "you have got to be friggin' kidding me" faces. He knew that his little brother could be unreasonable at most times, but this was just ridiculous beyond all things that were so. "We could've just bought them at a local market near our house, but no!" the Prussian grumbled unintelligibly, slamming down the trunk door and locking it shut. "Just had to go all the way to Idaho to not only buy, but harvest these goddamn potatoes Al kept bragging about with our own hands!"
"You should realize by now that Alfred is always 'all talk,' Brother," Ludwig replied in his usual "loud and stern" tone of voice. "If those potatoes are as great as he as they are, I have no choice but see for myself whether or not I should follow his word."
Gilbert groaned again. Time and time again, the frivolous American would try anything to get a buck out of the German. Alfred was impressed by—or rather, forced into accepting during one of his spontaneous birthday parties—Ludwig's energy-efficient Volkswagen vehicles, and decided that Ludwig was due for some repayment. "If you're so obsessed with these Idaho potatoes, then why the hell am I driving you around? You're the one who's better with directions."
"And you're the one who knows his way around this country more than I do. It would also be really nice for you to get out of the house once in a while instead of being holed up in your room all day long. You need some fresh air."
"I'm no Berlitz, West." He pulled the car keys out of the slot and went back into the driver's seat to stuff it into the ignition and start up the engine. Jets of smoke blew out of the muffler and trailed out as they pulled out of the farm's dirt driveway and sped onto the asphalt. "Plus, I'm too awesome for fresh air!"
"…You want to stop breathing?" His older brother made a guttural utterance out of surprise at the dark joke. "How come you weren't like this while we were harvesting? It looked to me that you were having fun."
"Driving to the farm was fine, but driving back is going to be a hassle. I just want to get back to our room and sleep." Gilbert pushed more on the gas to pass a few cars with his rising road rage, which in turn caused most of them to honk at him. "Four hours to drive to the nearest farm from our hotel for potatoes and back! Yeah, I'd be excited with that on my mind rather than just annoying the hell outta Al over the phone to make him send a crate to our house!" He was pretty sure that Ludwig would snap him in half if he persisted with his current state in mood, but the thought of that was immediately thrown out the window when he saw the crowd of cars in front, mocking him through the windshield.
"Oh, son of a—!"
"Brother!" Ludwig cut him off, "watch your mouth!"
"Well, what else should I say, West?"
"'Take the wheel; you drive?' You're certainly not in any condition now." About to reach for the keys, Gilbert swatted away Ludwig's hand, even though it wasn't even close to the key ring. "What the hell?" Ludwig tried to get them again, but was given a little push away from the driver's side. "Brother, what are you doing? Let me get the keys."
"Driver's seat, driver's key, little bro," Gilbert, whose eyes were still exasperatedly kept on the cars, nit-picked while biting one of his knuckles. Clearly, he was taught this rule by a certain American while giving him a tour of the country on the road when he came to visit. "Like hell I'm not in any condition to drive! You're just not awesome enough to be as good a driver as me!"
"I doubt it."
"Although…" A smirk formed from the corners of Gilbert's mouth. His hand went for the radio's power button, which also served as the volume knob. He turned it all the way to the left, in case someone decided to trap the car by giving the unsuspecting renter a loud blast of music, and pushed the button. "Might as well provide some entertainment while we're stuck here," he suggested, pressing the channel buttons as if he already knew what his preferred stations were (he actually did). "We can't just sit here while waiting for the road to decongest. Obviously can't have beer, either."
"I…don't really prefer Alfred's music, Brother…" Ludwig uneasily glanced at the radio." I'd rather you not turn that on."
"I'm not going to set it to 'those' stations, West—aw, sweet, 97.3—none of those 'drugs, sex, and shitty rapping' stations. Al doesn't like that either; there are other kinds of music that he listens to that even you can enjoy, I promise." He let out a mocking laugh. "For someone who spends time with Yong a lot, you sure know your way around good music, don't you?"
"I thought I told you to never speak of that, Ost." Ludwig glared at him, though he found himself comfortably settling into the passenger seat's head rest, so he adjusted it with the lever on the side of the seat to lead it back. Already with drooping eyelids, he decided to rest. "Wake me when the cars speed up. I'm not waiting more than an hour to see compact cars inch and sound horns towards a city intersection that's only ten miles away."
"Maybe you wouldn't be so tired if you didn't frolic around while picking potatoes from under the dirt," Gilbert mocked.
"Brother…" he said as a warning; his eyes were still closed, but he had enough power in his voice to make himself sound menacing enough.
"Fine, fine." But first things first. The Prussian opened his camera phone and pressed a button on the screen to take a quick picture of his brother's sleeping face—without the flash, of course. Not every day that an awesome king like me gets to watch his little brother nap so calmly, he thought, another smirk playing about his lips. Haha, I can see the creases on his forehead!
