Alfred- Sophomore
Arthur- Junior
"And we couldn't get a bigger vehicle, why exactly?"
Coach Germania's eyes met Arthur's in the rear-view mirror, clearly just as unimpressed about driving thirteen hours in a minivan with a bunch of college kids as he was. "The football team used up too much of the school's transportation fund on their trip to Arizona."
Alfred at least had the decency to look ashamed when the entire rental van turned to glare a him. He blushed and shrunk back into his seat. "Sorry?"
Everyone let out a collective sigh.
"I don't see what everyone is so upset about," Elizabeta, who had played the girl card, thus getting herself the passenger seat, said with a shrug. "I'm perfectly comfortable."
"Fuck you, Liz," Gilbert, who was squished in the backseat between Ivan and Roderich, seethed. "Fuck you so hard."
Germania glared through the rear-view mirror once again. "Gilbert, watch your language."
Alfred gazed out the window longingly. Maybe he was imagining things, but he was pretty sure he saw confetti coming out of the car Rome and Mama G were driving. The car that contained all of his relay-mates. "They're having so much fun in there," he moaned. "Curse my heroic tendencies. Dude, did you guys even feel how comfortable the seats in that car were? It felt like my ass was being cradled by clouds. And I gave it all up so that Mama G could be comfortable." He hit his head lightly against the window. "I've change my miiiind! Take me baaaack!"
"Do shut up," Arthur snapped. "And would you please move!" he cried, shoving Francis away from him on his other side. "I know for a fact you have more room over there than you're using, frog!"
"Aw, mon cher, a perfect derriere like my own needs space to breathe!" he cried, wiggling around in his seat.
Arthur growled and scooted closer to Alfred. "Well, if your slimy leg touches mine one more time, your derriere will need space to bleed."
"Oh my god, Sadiq just sent me a text saying that they're eating cannolis, and listening to 80's rock," Alfred moaned. "I want to eat cannolis and listen to 80's rock!"
Roderich clicked his tongue, flipping through his musician's magazine with flourish. "Three days before the biggest race of your life is a horrible time to start eating such fattening foods," he replied with a haughty sniff.
"Dude, I've been eating fattening food all season."
Germania rolled his eyes. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
"I have noticed that you have gained the weight," Ivan piped in with a smile. "I would not have said something, but this makes sense!"
Alfred spun to face him with a murderous snarl. "You're one to talk, fatass!"
"I swear to god, Frenchie, you touch my leg one more time-!"
"I cannot help existing, rosbif! Trust me, I would not touch you if I had a choice!"
Germania gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. It was going to be a long thirteen hours.
O
It was roughly around hour five, shortly after stopping for lunch at Subway, that majority of the athletes in Germnaia's van fell asleep. Thank god.
At that point, the only conscious members were himself, Elizabeta, who was typing furiously at her laptop, having unplugged the GPS (without asking him, or course) in order to charge it; and Ivan, who continued to stare out the window with a blissful, happy expression on his face.
Gilbert and Alfred were snoring loudly, Francis and Roderich looked annoyed at the snoring, even in their sleep, and Arthur had curled himself into a little ball, resting as inconspicuously on Alfred as he could. Even with the snoring, it was as quiet as the van had been all day, and he was determined to enjoy it.
"So, um," he coughed, glancing at Elizabeta out of the corner of his eye. "What are you writing? A paper?"
The girl spared him one, scandalized look before turning back to her screen with a scoff. "Sure." She smirked. "You could say that."
Germania chose not to ask and continued to focus on the road. Some things were better left unknown.
O
Around hour eight, after everyone had woken up, and Alfred had been moved between Francis and Arthur to quell the fighting, Rome's voice piped in from the walkie-talkie he had insisted they keep around for communication.
"Ciao, car two! This is car one! How are we doing back there?"
"Wunderbar," Germania growled, deadpanned. "How much longer until the exit?"
"Ahaha..." Rome laughed nervously, and Germania could almost picture him scratching embarrassingly on the back of his neck. "We actually missed the exit... some twenty miles or so ago. Scusa!"
Germania moaned and hit his head against the steering wheel, swearing that as soon as they were able to turn around, he was going to take the lead.
O
Three hours from their destination, Mama G insisted the team stop for some dinner so they could relax once they got there, and Rome suggested a take-out Italian place on the way. It was for the best, as at least half of the athletes in the van had complained about needing to use the restroom, and Germania was rather in need of a pit-stop himself.
"I hope they have chicken Alfredo," Alfred mused, bouncing in his seat. Arthur and Francis glared at him for his bouncing, but he had been doing it for the last hour (when he loudly announced his need to urinate), and they had given up trying to stop it.
"Marinara sauce is much healthier for you," Roderich informed him knowingly.
Alfred crinkled his nose. "Sure, but Alfredo is tastier. What is it with you today, dude? You ain't my dietitian."
"Considering we are headed to nationals, I simply assumed you would be interested in being healthy for once in your life," he said with a shrug. Alfred rolled his eyes.
"I think it would be too late for that," Ivan added with a smile.
"Aw, F you, Braginski."
Germania pulled into the parking lot, and within seconds of parking, the team poured out of the van. "Try to keep your meal under five dollars!" he cried after them, as they pushed each other out of the way to either order or use the bathroom first.
Arthur tripped Francis, while Gilbert hopped on Ivan's back and urged him forward like a horse. Alfred rushed over to his relay mates from the other car and used them as reinforcements, and Elizabeta and Roderich hooked arms and walked in a leisurely pace, as she had no competition for the bathroom, and Roderich was much too mature for the other's shenanigans.
Nearly forty minutes later, as they loaded themselves back into the vehicles, the team was well-fed, some were even still eating, and officially one hundred fifty dollars poorer.
So much for five dollar meals per person.
O
"Okay everyone! Listen up for room assignments!"
The team moaned, dragging their pillows and bags with them to the grass in front of the dorm that was to be their home for the next three days.
Outdoor nationals were nice, in that the school that hosted them was cleared of students for the summer, and was able to house the athletes in the empty dormitories. This cut down on lodging expenses, as well as expenses on transportation and food for the schools, as the cafeteria was free for all coaches and competitors.
Rome held ten keys in one outstretched hand, with a list of roommates in the other as he waited for Gilbert and Yong Soo to wander over to them across the parking lot. "Okay," he began, once they got there. "We got lucky, our building has suite style rooms that hold three, so you'll only have to share a bathroom between six of you, rather than a whole floor."
The team chatted excitedly, until Germania held up his hand to shush them. "We picked these rooms for a reason," he grumbled, "and we expect that you'll be in them when we need to find you. You are welcome to explore the campus, but you'll have a strict curfew of ten o'clock as long as you are competing."
There were a few irritated mumbles from the team, but for the most part, they kept their mouths shut.
"And now for roommates!" Rome chirped. "Room 341A will be Alfred, Antonio, and Gilbert. Room 341B will be Sadiq, Yong Soo, and Ivan. Across the hall in room 342A will be Roderich, Arthur, and Francis. And room 342B will be Elizabeta."
"Why the hell does she get her own room?" Gilbert exclaimed, pointing at a rather content looking Elizabeta.
Mama G glowered down at him. "Get over it, Gilbert," she snapped, which successfully shut him up.
They hiked up the three flights of stairs, ("For serious? No elevator?" "You are worried about having heart attack, maybe?" "Oh my god, shut up, Braginski!") and down the hall, until they reached their rooms. Francis glanced behind him to make sure the coaches weren't coming, and quickly pulled his key out of his pocket.
"D'accord, Alfred. Let's switch," he whispered.
"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur snapped.
Francis held his hands up defensively. "It was just an idea! I do not wish to room with you, you do not wish to room with me, and Alfred, I am sure, would be much happier with you than ces deux." He pointed behind himself, where Gilbert was making farting sounds with his armpit, and Antonio was laughing along.
Alfred made a face. "Yep, sold," he replied simply, happily exchanging his key. Arthur's face burned.
"Now you wait one bloody second!" he cried. "I will not get in trouble over this! If the coaches find out, and I let it happen, I'll-"
"Aw, c'mon Artie," Alfred interrupted. "The coaches wont figure out, I promise!" He leaned down, leaning in close and whispering so only Arthur could hear. "Please don't make me room with those guys, dude. I need my roomie! I've nervous enough about this whole thing as it is without you to calm me down."
Arthur, despite himself, blushed up to his ears. "F-fine," he gave in with a small huff. "But only because making anyone room with any portion of the three stooges would be a crime."
Alfred beamed. "Awesome! Thanks, Artie! You're the best!"
"Yes, yes, belt up. Don't make me regret this!"
As they unlocked their doors and started loading in their things, the group exchanged knowing smiles behind Alfred and Arthur's back. Sometimes it was just too easy.
O
"Okay!" Alfred exclaimed, clapping his hands and surveying their room. "Let's see what we've got here!"
Three beds; one of which was bunked on top of another, three dressers, a sink, a rather large window, one door that lead to a surprisingly tiny closet, and another door that lead to what they assumed was their shared bathroom with Elizabeta.
It didn't take long for Elizabeta to invite herself into the room through the bathroom, knocking only once before popping her head in and grinning widely. "Hey guys! Bathroom looks pretty nice, I think-Hey!" she cried, pushing the door open and storming over to Roderich's half-unpacked bag. "What are you doing?"
He blinked. "Unpacking?"
"Not in here, you're not." With one motion, she scooped up his things and tossed them over her shoulder. "There is no reason for me to have a room to myself when you are here. We're dating, after all!"
He stared after her as he marched back through the bathroom, as if trying to figure out where his belongings disappeared to all of a sudden. "E-Elizabeta! Wait!" He exclaimed, running after her frantically. "That is exactly why we shouldn't room together!"
As the door slammed behind him, Alfred and Arthur's eyes met across the room, both painfully aware that they would, more than likely, be rooming together.
Alone.
Welcome to Nationals! This will be a multi-chaptered arch, obviously, so this chapter kind of works as a transition/introductory chapter to just kinda set the stage and let you get to know the team just a bit better. :)
Alfred and his relay team from the last chapter qualified for the 4x4, Arthur qualified in the 1500, Francis in the pole vault, Gilbert in the steeple, Liz in the shot and disc, Ivan in the shot and hammer, and Roderich in the high jump, so it'll be a pretty well-rounded group!
Until next time, have a great day! :D
-Car