Published: March 12, 2015
Chapter 2: A Quick Trip to Pizza Hut
“That… That’s not what I…” Ludwig let out a frustrated sigh, “Why, exactly, are you two taking me to New York City?”
“Ah, well, you see-” Feliciano tried to explain, but it was as if he had forgotten how to talk.
“My brother has this crackpot theory that he can’t tell you before we get there.” Lovino grumbled, “Or something. That’s all Kiku told me about it.”
“Ah, Lovi, let’s not complicate things. And my theory makes sense! Kind of…” Feliciano defended weakly, and then tried to change the subject. “ Can I turn on the radio?”
“Yeah, yeah, do as you please. Just don’t sing along.”
Feliciano turned on the radio and switched to the pop station. It was a good ten minutes before he forgot Lovino’s order and started to sing along at the top of his lungs. Was this guy drunk?
The more Lovino drove, the more nauseous Ludwig felt. Was this some sort of punishment from Gilbert or someone? Being stuck in a car with two Italians, one who hadn’t had his morning coffee and the other who had had a few cups too much? No, Gilbert wasn’t that cruel. He probably would’ve pulled a few pranks and then they’d make up.
“Feli, shut the hell up!” Lovino was shouting, almost louder than the blasting radio, “I’ll switch to a different station!”
“Nooooooooo!!” Feliciano almost sprayed his Starbucks all over the car due to a combination of Lovino’s horrible driving and the threat he had made. Seriously, why couldn’t they just hop into a taxi instead? “I promise not to sing! Please don’t switch!!”
After that, the car was completely silent, if you ignored the fact that the brothers were blasting Uptown Funk so loud Ludwig thought he’d go deaf. Then Feliciano got this look on his face and turned around to Ludwig.
“I’m so rude! I didn’t even ask you what sort of music you wanted to listen to!” He smiled sickeningly.
After Ludwig managed to mumble out a weak “R-Rock…” Feliciano messed around with the radio dial. Some sort of Led Zeppelin song was playing, though Ludwig couldn’t tell which one, because about fifteen seconds after Feliciano switched to the Rock station, Lovino mumbled “Holy shit, this is scary.” and switched back to the Pop station. Rude much?
After another thirty minutes of listening to modern crap and trying not to puke, Ludwig got extremely bored. “Hey, Feliciano?” He asked. The Italian turned around as fast as possible, his eyes sparkling. “How long does it take to drive from Buffalo to New York City?”
Feliciano pulled out his phone and opened the map application. “About six-and-a-half hours.” He said, disappointed, “Though we’ve been driving for almost an hour now, so it’s more like five-and-a-half. Just five if we don’t get traffic.”
Ludwig sighed and leaned back.
“Oh, and we’ll be stopping to eat in just about… Lovino, stop! I saw a Pizza Hut!”
“Holy shit, where?!” The grumpy Italian hit the break so fast, Ludwig’s head almost slammed on the seat in front of him. “You saw it just now, right?”
“Uh-huh. Just drive back to it!”
So Lovino made the worst turn in the history of turns and drove against the traffic. Jesus, these guys weren’t just drunk, they were also high. But they got to Pizza Hut in one piece, so that was all that mattered. Walking in, Ludwig felt an awful lot like a mother with a hormonal teenager and a hyperactive toddler. They sat down in a booth and a pretty waitress approached them with the menu. The Vargas brothers didn’t even look at it, they just ordered two large margarita pizzas and a large portion of garlic bread, as if they’d memorized the menu. Ludwig politely declined, and ordered only a can of Coke.
As they waited for the food, the Vargas brothers made unbearably bad puns about Italian cuisine – what do you call a strand of spaghetti in a plate of gnocchi? An impasta. – and tried (and failed) to flirt with waitresses passing by. Would it kill you to just quietly wait for your pizzas?
Eventually, the brothers’ meal was brought to their table. They munched on their pizzas, Lovino criticizing it so harshly he could make Gordon Ramsay cry – the crust is so fucking huge, it hurts! The cheese is stringy as fuck, dammit! Damn bastards! - and Feliciano telling him how they ‘tried their best’. Damn Italians. It’s a Pizza Hut. You can’t expect too much from a Pizza Hut.
Miraculously, both Feliciano and Lovino were able to finish their pizzas and the garlic bread, all while refusing to share even a crumb with Ludwig. They called the waitress over and asked for the bill.
“I think I forgot my wallet in the car.” Feliciano said to nobody in particular, and then turned to face his brother. “Lovi?”
“Damn, I forgot mine as well. Potato Bastard?”
Ludwig sighed. “I’ll cover it.”
As Ludwig placed his credit card into the thick booklet thing the bill came in, he noticed that Feliciano was staring at him in a creepily admiring way. Lovino must’ve noticed too, because he slapped his brother at the back of his head.
After they paid and got tidied up, they climbed back into the Fiat, the Vargas brothers in the front and Ludwig in the back.
When they settled down, Ludwig noticed Lovino’s mischievous grin. He had a bad feeling about what Lovino was about to do.
“Hey, Feli, what was up with that look you gave Potato Bastard?”
“Oh. Um. I, er… Well, I suppose I’d have to say this sooner or later… Here goes.” Feliciano mumbled, his face redder than a tomato.