Chapter Text
Gilbert hated Airport security.
It wasn’t so much a personal vendetta as a true unadulterated hatred of having to remove his shoes and anything that might have metal in, on, around, or breathing on it. Really it was absolutely ridiculous, American airports were insane crazy, he hadn’t had to do any of that in Germany or England, but there, in the last leg of his journey, Gilbert was taking off just about everything because there was no way in hell he was he wanted to meet the scaring looking security lady waving the metal wand of death screening a worried looking business man with a receding hairline.
Ludwig, Gilbert’s younger brother, was doing much the same behind him, emptying his pockets into the state provided plastic buckets, looking completely neutral and unfazed by it all. The conveyer belt sent the little bins into the tunnel of all knowing, just to double and triple check they didn’t bring any unapproved lotions onto the flight, god forbid.
The slow as fuck screening line moved another half inch forward, and Gilbert could almost imagine seeing the crest of the metal detector over the bouncy ponytail of a sleep deprived mom and her gaggle of small children asking lots of question about planes that could not actually be answered. Gilbert rolled his eyes, begging for the process to go even a little bit faster as he drummed his fingers on his arm and wished he hadn’t given up his ipod to the bucket of doom, but that time had come and gone. Gilbert was only a few paces away now, he could practically feel the arching medal detector glaring down at him, daring him to walk through, just daring him to get through without having the annoying alarm go off.
“This way sir.” A very sad looking old man waved him forward, he was probably only in his early forties but he looked at least fifty, maybe sixty. Working airport security had clearly drained him. Gilbert took a deep breath and stepped under the arch, for a moment, he thought he was going to make it, he really did. The world went still, Gilbert Beilschmit was going to make it through airport security without any issues. But of course, it could not be that simple. An ear splitting screech signaled that something on his person had clearly been kind of thinking about metal and the alarm had gone off.
“You need to step out of line, sir.” The woman with the metal detecting wand waved him over, her eyes glaring daggers like Gilbert had personally stepped on the American eagle.
“Fuuuuuck.” He groaned, making his way over to the woman, assuming the position to be thoroughly searched by the guard who’s bun looked like it had been personally done up by Satan himself, her bangs were pulled up so tight it actually stretched her face. As per usual, the wand detected nothing, nada, zip, zero, nothing, and he was allowed to collect his things from his bucket, his brother had already gone through without any issues and had already collected his things. This happened every time. Even though he wasn’t laughing, Gilbert could tell his brother was at least a little amused. It was like Gilbert was on every security watch list on the planet. Never had he ever gone through an airport without being individually searched at least once, even as a child.
Gilbert put his shoes back on and riffled through his back to make sure everything was still there, it was, so the pair started tracking down the gate their flight would be leaving from. They still had a half hour before boarding for their flight to Toronto would begin and Gilbert was not about to sit and wait for a plane to show up so he could sit and wait for the plane to land. Ludwig found a spot near their gate and started reading from the same book he had started on their last flight from London to New York while Gilbert decided to walk around for a bit to stretch his legs. Kennedy Airport was a pretty big one as far as airports went, several stalls selling junk food and seat pillow lined both sides of the halls as busy men and women zoomed by with rolling suit cases jabbering on mobile phones talking too quickly for Gilbert to really catch anything but the waves of frustration and anger radiating from their voices.
Gilbert shoved his hands in his pockets, content to people watch while he looked for some place that sold coffee. Luckily, there were coffee houses around nearly every corner and it took the German no time to find a Starbucks, a little line roped off for customers to wait to have their orders filled. A very stressed out looking college student stood behind the cash register while a slightly more stressed student filled the orders. The great thing about Airport coffee was no one was ordering some complicated list of tickets while snarling about how they were late for some very important meeting. The bad thing about airport coffee was airport coffee.
“What can I get for you?” The woman behind the register smiled, though it was that forced service smile that you give just so you don’t start yelling at someone, or crying, whichever came first.
“One tall Macchiato, double shot, and a house coffee, black.” Gilbert liked his coffee more milk and sugar then actual coffee, and no amount of his brother’s helpful reminders about the unhealthy content of sugar was going to change that.
“What’s the name on that?” She quipped, a sharpie poised in one hand with the cups in the other.
“Beilschmit.” Gilbert saw the moment of doubt on her face while her American brain desperately attempted to sound out the name before scribbling something down and handing the cups over to the other student and giving him his total. He handed over the cash and a few minutes later was walking back to his gate with two cups in his hands.
“Mon ami!” A familiar face greeted Gilbert upon his return to the gate. He was quickly swept into a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek by a flurry of blond hair and thick French accent.
“Francis!” Gilbert grinned, handing his brother the cup he had brought, noting the slight pinkish hue of his face. Clearly the Frenchman had been there for at least long enough to tell his brother something dirty. “We have the same flight?” Francis and Gilbert went way back, even before the Hetalia program they had been fast friends thanks to Gilbert’s short stay in Paris because of his Father’s ever moving career.
“I heard most of the European kids do.” He grinned, looking much tanner then the last time Gilbert had seen him. The summer spent on his uncle’s winery had done wonders for him. Not that Francis needed a vacation, most of his life was a flurry of beeches and pretty girls, his entire life was a vacation. The lucky bastard. Apparently blonde hair and a French accent got someone further in life then a wallet full of dead presidents. “Tony was supposed to be here already, but his flight out of Madrid got delayed for heavens know why.” In true French fashion, Francis flipped his hair and waved to a passing flight attendant as she boarded the plane. Even from where he was sitting, Gilbert could see the flight attendant blush and return the gesture with a delicate flutter of her eyelashes. Really, Francis was practically walking pheromones. “Now that I have a more captive audience,” A quick look in Ludwig’s direction and Gilbert knew that his brother had already heard part of the conversation he was about to have.
“Do tell.” Gilbert snickered, watching as his brother picked up his things and chose another seat on the opposite end of the loading bay. Francis and Gilbert exchanged wry glances before both burst into a giggling fit like twelve year old school girls. It really had been too long since they had last spoke.
Francis immediately jumped into a regaling tale about an American tourist he met on his uncle’s vineyard over the summer and the steamy romance that inevitably issued. They apparently found each other late one night when he was walking through the grape fields, but she hadn’t wanted anything serious and they made a deal to meet every night and talk about their time in France, and he surprised her with dinner one night and they fell in love or whatever and she was torn to pieces when she had to leave, but she promised to come back every summer. Gilbert would have been impressed, but he was also pretty sure that was the plot of a semi-homoerotic Rom/Com and Francis was pulling the entire thing out of his ass, but he laughed anyway when he made a poorly crafter innuendo about swimming lessons.
“All boarding for flight 213 to Toronto.” The intercom buzzed over their heads and Gilbert immediately started shuffling his things together and taking out his boarding pass, Francis had already scurried to front desk and started flirting with the check in lady, but hey, that’s what being friends with Francis was all about, sometimes Gilbert would just turn around he was gone chasing tail. Francis was a good guy though, a bit of a dick but a good friend.
“Ready for an awesome senior year?” Gilbert slung his arm over Francis’ shoulder, dragging him away from the pretty girls that had nice smelling hair onto the flying metal death trap of a plane, but he could worry about that later.