Red Prince [Fic]
Title: Red Prince
Author: Kamitori
Rating/Warnings: PG; Possible side-effects of making readers hungry.
Pairing(s): America/Canada
Prompt: Picking apples together.
Notes: An Incomplete List of Known Apples, A Website About the Red Prince Apple (Informative?...maybe.); and today's CANADA DAY, so this is for you, Mattie! Happy birthday~!
The endless rolling green and brown hills of California is not much of a relief from the colder regions of Matthew's house. There are sparse shrubberies and a handful of cattle dotting the landscape, nothing too marvelous to look at for a three hour drive to one of Alfred's favourite California apple orchards. The beating sun above and the lack of a visible water source almost makes the place look like a desert, and he wonders how farmers could even survive out here. He is pleased that he takes much better care of his own land than his brother.
"You're going to love the orchard!" Alfred exclaims, chattering about the different kinds of apples the orchard has, their quality, the price, his oratory being jumbled and muffled when he stuffs a McD*nald's burger into his mouth. "They even have your favourite kind, you know? Red Prince apples! I don't know why you like them at all. I know they're a club apple and taste pretty good, but fuji apples are just better. Better taste, more balance between sweet and sour, it even has a better crunch! And the red prince..."
Matthew sighs and slumps back against the car seat, tuning his brother out. He really should not have said that he wanted to eat some apple crumble made with red prince apples when Alfred dropped by for a surprise visit two months ago. His brother quickly snatched up the opportunity and pestered him into joining him on a road trip down to Southern California to go apple picking. He thought his brother would forget, as Alfred is often prone to, and shoved his invitation out of his thoughts until his brother dragged him out of bed earlier this morning.
He probably should have tried hiding over at Cuba's house the day before, but there isn't much that he can do now. He is stuck in Alfred's favourite Jaguar and zooming down the interstate at seventy miles per hour, and there is no sign of other cars or houses in sight. It will be at least another thirty miles until they find another human soul.
"I don't see why we have to go all the way down here just to get apples," he mumbles, hugging Kumajirou close. "After all, I can always buy them at the store. And Ontario is growing a lot of red princes..."
"Yeah, but picking them is much more fun," Alfred replies, pressing down on the gas pedal. Matthew is pushed back into his seat from the velocity as the car goes even faster. "And besides, your apples are Canadian brand. Mine are American. That makes them awesome, just like me!"
Matthew doesn't bother to note that Alfred already exports many of his American apples to Canada under NAFTA, opting instead to staring out the window at the bleak Californian landscape. "You know, you should really see the fields along this interstate when it's blooming with wildflowers," Alfred says, noticing his brother's quiet observations. "I mean, yeah, the farmers are out here for the cattle grazing stuff, but there's gotta be more to why they'd want to stay out here, right? Of course, every part of me is beautiful, so I completely understand why they'd want to..."
There is only so much tuning out Matthew can take when his brother rambles on about his house and how awesome he is, and as much as Matthew loves his older brother, being stuck in a car on a road trip through the middle of nowhere just to go apple picking on a day he had planned on sleeping in has only lowered his tolerance level. So he decides to ask the age old question: "Al, are we there yet?"
Alfred chortles in response. "Almost there, little bro!" he replies happily, stomping on the accelerator. "Just ten more minutes going at this speed!"
"Hey, wait! Al! Al!! Alfred!!!"
Matthew screams and clutches onto his seat's armrest with one hand while the other holds onto Kumajirou in a death grip as the car zooms down the road at one hundred and ten miles per hour. He gives his brother a murderous glare when Alfred has the gall to laugh at his predicament and doesn't let it drop until he can feel the car slowing down. "That was fun," Alfred chirps, turning onto a dirt road. "We should do that again!"
"If you do that, I will cut all ties with you," Matthew replies, failing to make his threat sound menacing. They both know that both of their economy would go down if either decides to end their relationship and Matthew would be forced to spend even more money to protect their long-time unprotected and very long border from an angry Alfred bent on invading his vital regions and marrying the two, in Vegas no less.
So instead, he slowly lets go of the armrest and takes perverse pleasure when he notices that he has left deep, unremovable grooves in the upholstery, much to Alfred's dismay. A whitewashed two story house comes into view and behind it are more rolling hills and rows upon rows of apple trees, their branches laden with apples of all varieties from rosy red to golden brown and russet.
A man gallops up to meet them as they pull into the driveway, a large grin on his face. "Hey, Al!" he greets, sliding of his horse and grabbing Alfred's hand in a strong handshake when the two brothers exit the car. "Nice to see you again! So...where's that Canadian brother you said you were bringing?"
Matthew sighs and waves his hand. Being unnoticeable to all but a few is annoying, but at least he isn't dragged into any fights against his will...well, except for World War II, but that was Arthur's fault, so he couldn't have done anything even if he wanted to. So he climbs out of Alfred's Jaguar and says, "Um, hi! I'm Matthew."
The man turns red in embarrassment for not noticing Matthew and shakes his hand in apology. "Hi there, Matthew," he says sheepishly. "My name's Gerry Smitton, owner of Smitton Apple Farm. It's great to have you join us, so help yourself!" He whistles and a girl comes out of the house, carrying several dirt-stained buckets. "That's my daughter, Carrie. She'll help you around if you need anything."
"Hi there, boys!" she chirps, dropping the buckets down in front of the two brothers. "So glad you could come! So, just grab a bucket and start picking! Or do you have any specific apples you want?"
"Fuji!" replies Alfred, waving his hand in the air energetically.
Matthew sighs in exasperation at his brother's antics and asks, "You have red prince apples, right?"
Carrie nods in pride, pointing to her left. "Abso-fucking-lutely," she replies. Her father exclaims in shock and quickly apologises for his daughter's behaviour, but Alfred quickly waves that off. "Just follow that path down to the left until you reach a sign that says, 'Red Prince.' All of the trees beyond that sign bear our delicious club apples. The fuji apples are a little ahead of the red princes. Can't miss 'em. Have fun, boys!"
They give their thanks and grab four buckets each. Matthew allows himself a small smile and Kumajirou races ahead in front of them, catching fallen leaves and stray pale pink and white apple blossom petals in his agile paws. Alfred plucks an apple here, another two or three there, and throws them all in a bucket. Matthew winces and hopes they do not bruise, but Alfred will probably turn them into cider or something of the sort. The American nation only uses fuji apples for his pies and golden deliciouses for his apple dumplings.
The Canadian allows himself to indulge a little and climbs a ladder to pick some gala apples, quickly filling up one of his buckets. The fruits will be spiced with cinnamon and cloves and canned in glass jars later when he returns home, ready to be put in generous helpings onto his pancakes. He scales other trees to pick a bucketful of braeburns and ginger golds to turn into thick, creamy apple butter and sweet applesauce.
His hands are soon sticky with tree sap and covered in bits of tree bark, a fate that Alfred also shares. The American nation laughs and twines their sticky hands together and leads him to a nearby water spout. "We can wash our hands here," he says cheerfully with a twist of the spout knob and pulls their clasped hands underneath the cool spray. "I'll ask Carrie to bring around a wagon so we don't have to lug around the buckets."
"All right," Matthew replies.
They finish washing quickly and Alfred intertwines their hands again, dragging the younger brother down the dirt path towards a clump of tall trees, Kumajirou in tow. Matthew's mouth forms a half smile when he sees the trees are laden with bright, round red apples; red princes. Alfred squeezes his hands and smiles widely. "Amazing, right?" He nods and tries to form coherent words, but when he decides he can't, he just settles for squeezing Alfred's hand. Al's smile spreads into a full grin. "I'll race you!"
And suddenly he feels his hair whipping back as the wind runs through it and his fingers slowly pull away from Alfred's warm hand as they run towards the trees. Al lets out a whoop of exhilaration and charges down a small slope and Matthew follows close behind with Kumajirou tucked to his chest. He can feel the adrenaline course through his body as his feet pound against the ground and suddenly he is flying, flying, flying.
The buckets roll down the rest of the way along with them and Alfred holds Matthew tight to his chest until they come to a stop at the edge of the red prince trees. Their chests heave and they pant out their laughs, and Matthew only rolls off of Alfred's chest when Kumajirou gives him a sharp prod, reminding him that the poor bear is still sandwiched between them. "You're such a klutz, Mattie," Al wheezes, shifting on the ground until they are both comfortable. "Are you trying to kill me?"
He laughs and buries his face in Alfred's side. "Maybe, but at least I won."
"What? No way!" The older nation sits up abruptly and glares down at the younger. "It was a tie at the most!"
"No way. Look! My hand reaches further towards the trees than yours!"
"All right, fine. Since I'm a hero and a nice guy, I'll let you win."
Matthew rolls his eyes and gets up, grabbing the buckets and Kumajirou as well. They head into the trees, and, when they see that there are no ladders propped up against the trunks and with the apples high in the leafy boughs, they decide to risk neck and limb to scale the trees for the elusive fruits. The buckets are quickly filled with apples, Alfred's more slightly bruised than Matthew's as the American tends to drop them in the bucket as compared to Matthew, who carefully climbs down the boughs with several apples in his arms.
It is on his last trip down the tree that Matthew accidentally slips and steps on a small, weak branch that easily snaps under his weight, sending him plummeting several feet down. He yelps and squeezes his eyes shut, curling around his apples to protect them, ready to meet the ground with a sickening crack, but the impact never comes. Instead, warm, strong arms wrap themselves around him and he falls onto a soft body with an oomph.
"Man, you really are a kluzt, Mattie," Alfred wheezes, pushing himself and his brother up. "But of course, the hero saves the day yet again!"
Matthew flushes and scrambles off of Alfred. "Sorry about that," he mumbles, gathering his fallen apples. When he goes to put them in his bucket, he notices that Alfred's bucket is knocked over and apples are spilling from it, and he smiles. "Thanks for helping me, though, even if you keep making me feel like a damsel in distress."
They laugh and Alfred pulls him into a hug when a sharp cough notifies them that there is someone else in the glade besides them. Carrie smirks down at them from atop a wagon. "I'd hate to interrupt your bromance," she says smugly, which causes Matthew to blush in embarrassment. "However, your apples have been loaded, and you look like you're ready to head on out. So stop with the sap and get in, or I'm leaving you two behind to trudge on back to the front."
They quickly scramble up off the ground and load the wagon with their last apple buckets and climb on the wagon. Kumajirou clambers off Matthew's lap and onto the front seat with Carrie, leaving the two brothers to stare at the retreating tree lines. Alfred is the one who pays for the apples and loads them into his Jaguar while Matthew is left to thank Gerry and Carrie for their service before getting into the car. Kumajirou sits in the back seat, happily munching on a fuji apple snagged from one of Alfred's buckets while the loud nation wasn't looking.
Soon they are on the road again, driving up still deserted roads north to San Francisco where they will stay for a day while Matthew gets ready to fly back to his home. "Thanks for today, Al," he says, smiling at his older brother. "It was really great, even though I didn't appreciate getting woken up at midnight just to drive all the way down to an apple orchard in California. But I'm glad we spent time together."
"No problem, bro! After all, I'm just that great of an older brother."
Matthew chuckles and rolls his eyes exasperatedly, however there is something at the back of his mind that is still bothering him. Alfred usually doesn't do these kinds of nice gestures. Yes, he is generally a nice guy, but is not exactly the altruistic type, which makes him wonder why Alfred would even remember a request that he had jokingly made two months ago. So he decides to finally put his nagging mind to rest. "Hey, Al, not to sound rude and ungrateful and all, but why did you even bring me? I thought you'd forgotten all about it."
Alfred turns to him with an eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Really, Mattie? Usually people would think I'd forget it, but to have you forget your own birthday?"
His eyes widen and he can feel himself heating up. Of course, Alfred is one of the few people who actually remembers his birthday, and to think that even he himself forgot. He feels like he could bang his head against the dashboard right about now, but then he becomes aware of Alfred's laughter. "What's so funny?" he snaps, slouching back in his seat.
"You're as red as your red princes," Alfred replies, making him blush even more. "But you know, to be completely corny, you're the red prince today, and you'll always be my red prince."
They laugh at the sweet cheesy-ness of Alfred's line, and Matthew notes to never let Alfred read or watch any more corny romance novels or movies.
And they drive happily into the Californian sunset, just like in one of Al's cheesy movies.
(Until they are forced to stop because of Kumajirou's acquired stomach ache. Matthew spends the rest of that car trip grumbling about Alfred's lack of ability to pick safe apples.)
AN: Holy cow! I just realised that I never made Canada say, 'eh' once in this entire fic! OTL
Author: Kamitori
Rating/Warnings: PG; Possible side-effects of making readers hungry.
Pairing(s): America/Canada
Prompt: Picking apples together.
Notes: An Incomplete List of Known Apples, A Website About the Red Prince Apple (Informative?...maybe.); and today's CANADA DAY, so this is for you, Mattie! Happy birthday~!
The endless rolling green and brown hills of California is not much of a relief from the colder regions of Matthew's house. There are sparse shrubberies and a handful of cattle dotting the landscape, nothing too marvelous to look at for a three hour drive to one of Alfred's favourite California apple orchards. The beating sun above and the lack of a visible water source almost makes the place look like a desert, and he wonders how farmers could even survive out here. He is pleased that he takes much better care of his own land than his brother.
"You're going to love the orchard!" Alfred exclaims, chattering about the different kinds of apples the orchard has, their quality, the price, his oratory being jumbled and muffled when he stuffs a McD*nald's burger into his mouth. "They even have your favourite kind, you know? Red Prince apples! I don't know why you like them at all. I know they're a club apple and taste pretty good, but fuji apples are just better. Better taste, more balance between sweet and sour, it even has a better crunch! And the red prince..."
Matthew sighs and slumps back against the car seat, tuning his brother out. He really should not have said that he wanted to eat some apple crumble made with red prince apples when Alfred dropped by for a surprise visit two months ago. His brother quickly snatched up the opportunity and pestered him into joining him on a road trip down to Southern California to go apple picking. He thought his brother would forget, as Alfred is often prone to, and shoved his invitation out of his thoughts until his brother dragged him out of bed earlier this morning.
He probably should have tried hiding over at Cuba's house the day before, but there isn't much that he can do now. He is stuck in Alfred's favourite Jaguar and zooming down the interstate at seventy miles per hour, and there is no sign of other cars or houses in sight. It will be at least another thirty miles until they find another human soul.
"I don't see why we have to go all the way down here just to get apples," he mumbles, hugging Kumajirou close. "After all, I can always buy them at the store. And Ontario is growing a lot of red princes..."
"Yeah, but picking them is much more fun," Alfred replies, pressing down on the gas pedal. Matthew is pushed back into his seat from the velocity as the car goes even faster. "And besides, your apples are Canadian brand. Mine are American. That makes them awesome, just like me!"
Matthew doesn't bother to note that Alfred already exports many of his American apples to Canada under NAFTA, opting instead to staring out the window at the bleak Californian landscape. "You know, you should really see the fields along this interstate when it's blooming with wildflowers," Alfred says, noticing his brother's quiet observations. "I mean, yeah, the farmers are out here for the cattle grazing stuff, but there's gotta be more to why they'd want to stay out here, right? Of course, every part of me is beautiful, so I completely understand why they'd want to..."
There is only so much tuning out Matthew can take when his brother rambles on about his house and how awesome he is, and as much as Matthew loves his older brother, being stuck in a car on a road trip through the middle of nowhere just to go apple picking on a day he had planned on sleeping in has only lowered his tolerance level. So he decides to ask the age old question: "Al, are we there yet?"
Alfred chortles in response. "Almost there, little bro!" he replies happily, stomping on the accelerator. "Just ten more minutes going at this speed!"
"Hey, wait! Al! Al!! Alfred!!!"
Matthew screams and clutches onto his seat's armrest with one hand while the other holds onto Kumajirou in a death grip as the car zooms down the road at one hundred and ten miles per hour. He gives his brother a murderous glare when Alfred has the gall to laugh at his predicament and doesn't let it drop until he can feel the car slowing down. "That was fun," Alfred chirps, turning onto a dirt road. "We should do that again!"
"If you do that, I will cut all ties with you," Matthew replies, failing to make his threat sound menacing. They both know that both of their economy would go down if either decides to end their relationship and Matthew would be forced to spend even more money to protect their long-time unprotected and very long border from an angry Alfred bent on invading his vital regions and marrying the two, in Vegas no less.
So instead, he slowly lets go of the armrest and takes perverse pleasure when he notices that he has left deep, unremovable grooves in the upholstery, much to Alfred's dismay. A whitewashed two story house comes into view and behind it are more rolling hills and rows upon rows of apple trees, their branches laden with apples of all varieties from rosy red to golden brown and russet.
A man gallops up to meet them as they pull into the driveway, a large grin on his face. "Hey, Al!" he greets, sliding of his horse and grabbing Alfred's hand in a strong handshake when the two brothers exit the car. "Nice to see you again! So...where's that Canadian brother you said you were bringing?"
Matthew sighs and waves his hand. Being unnoticeable to all but a few is annoying, but at least he isn't dragged into any fights against his will...well, except for World War II, but that was Arthur's fault, so he couldn't have done anything even if he wanted to. So he climbs out of Alfred's Jaguar and says, "Um, hi! I'm Matthew."
The man turns red in embarrassment for not noticing Matthew and shakes his hand in apology. "Hi there, Matthew," he says sheepishly. "My name's Gerry Smitton, owner of Smitton Apple Farm. It's great to have you join us, so help yourself!" He whistles and a girl comes out of the house, carrying several dirt-stained buckets. "That's my daughter, Carrie. She'll help you around if you need anything."
"Hi there, boys!" she chirps, dropping the buckets down in front of the two brothers. "So glad you could come! So, just grab a bucket and start picking! Or do you have any specific apples you want?"
"Fuji!" replies Alfred, waving his hand in the air energetically.
Matthew sighs in exasperation at his brother's antics and asks, "You have red prince apples, right?"
Carrie nods in pride, pointing to her left. "Abso-fucking-lutely," she replies. Her father exclaims in shock and quickly apologises for his daughter's behaviour, but Alfred quickly waves that off. "Just follow that path down to the left until you reach a sign that says, 'Red Prince.' All of the trees beyond that sign bear our delicious club apples. The fuji apples are a little ahead of the red princes. Can't miss 'em. Have fun, boys!"
They give their thanks and grab four buckets each. Matthew allows himself a small smile and Kumajirou races ahead in front of them, catching fallen leaves and stray pale pink and white apple blossom petals in his agile paws. Alfred plucks an apple here, another two or three there, and throws them all in a bucket. Matthew winces and hopes they do not bruise, but Alfred will probably turn them into cider or something of the sort. The American nation only uses fuji apples for his pies and golden deliciouses for his apple dumplings.
The Canadian allows himself to indulge a little and climbs a ladder to pick some gala apples, quickly filling up one of his buckets. The fruits will be spiced with cinnamon and cloves and canned in glass jars later when he returns home, ready to be put in generous helpings onto his pancakes. He scales other trees to pick a bucketful of braeburns and ginger golds to turn into thick, creamy apple butter and sweet applesauce.
His hands are soon sticky with tree sap and covered in bits of tree bark, a fate that Alfred also shares. The American nation laughs and twines their sticky hands together and leads him to a nearby water spout. "We can wash our hands here," he says cheerfully with a twist of the spout knob and pulls their clasped hands underneath the cool spray. "I'll ask Carrie to bring around a wagon so we don't have to lug around the buckets."
"All right," Matthew replies.
They finish washing quickly and Alfred intertwines their hands again, dragging the younger brother down the dirt path towards a clump of tall trees, Kumajirou in tow. Matthew's mouth forms a half smile when he sees the trees are laden with bright, round red apples; red princes. Alfred squeezes his hands and smiles widely. "Amazing, right?" He nods and tries to form coherent words, but when he decides he can't, he just settles for squeezing Alfred's hand. Al's smile spreads into a full grin. "I'll race you!"
And suddenly he feels his hair whipping back as the wind runs through it and his fingers slowly pull away from Alfred's warm hand as they run towards the trees. Al lets out a whoop of exhilaration and charges down a small slope and Matthew follows close behind with Kumajirou tucked to his chest. He can feel the adrenaline course through his body as his feet pound against the ground and suddenly he is flying, flying, flying.
The buckets roll down the rest of the way along with them and Alfred holds Matthew tight to his chest until they come to a stop at the edge of the red prince trees. Their chests heave and they pant out their laughs, and Matthew only rolls off of Alfred's chest when Kumajirou gives him a sharp prod, reminding him that the poor bear is still sandwiched between them. "You're such a klutz, Mattie," Al wheezes, shifting on the ground until they are both comfortable. "Are you trying to kill me?"
He laughs and buries his face in Alfred's side. "Maybe, but at least I won."
"What? No way!" The older nation sits up abruptly and glares down at the younger. "It was a tie at the most!"
"No way. Look! My hand reaches further towards the trees than yours!"
"All right, fine. Since I'm a hero and a nice guy, I'll let you win."
Matthew rolls his eyes and gets up, grabbing the buckets and Kumajirou as well. They head into the trees, and, when they see that there are no ladders propped up against the trunks and with the apples high in the leafy boughs, they decide to risk neck and limb to scale the trees for the elusive fruits. The buckets are quickly filled with apples, Alfred's more slightly bruised than Matthew's as the American tends to drop them in the bucket as compared to Matthew, who carefully climbs down the boughs with several apples in his arms.
It is on his last trip down the tree that Matthew accidentally slips and steps on a small, weak branch that easily snaps under his weight, sending him plummeting several feet down. He yelps and squeezes his eyes shut, curling around his apples to protect them, ready to meet the ground with a sickening crack, but the impact never comes. Instead, warm, strong arms wrap themselves around him and he falls onto a soft body with an oomph.
"Man, you really are a kluzt, Mattie," Alfred wheezes, pushing himself and his brother up. "But of course, the hero saves the day yet again!"
Matthew flushes and scrambles off of Alfred. "Sorry about that," he mumbles, gathering his fallen apples. When he goes to put them in his bucket, he notices that Alfred's bucket is knocked over and apples are spilling from it, and he smiles. "Thanks for helping me, though, even if you keep making me feel like a damsel in distress."
They laugh and Alfred pulls him into a hug when a sharp cough notifies them that there is someone else in the glade besides them. Carrie smirks down at them from atop a wagon. "I'd hate to interrupt your bromance," she says smugly, which causes Matthew to blush in embarrassment. "However, your apples have been loaded, and you look like you're ready to head on out. So stop with the sap and get in, or I'm leaving you two behind to trudge on back to the front."
They quickly scramble up off the ground and load the wagon with their last apple buckets and climb on the wagon. Kumajirou clambers off Matthew's lap and onto the front seat with Carrie, leaving the two brothers to stare at the retreating tree lines. Alfred is the one who pays for the apples and loads them into his Jaguar while Matthew is left to thank Gerry and Carrie for their service before getting into the car. Kumajirou sits in the back seat, happily munching on a fuji apple snagged from one of Alfred's buckets while the loud nation wasn't looking.
Soon they are on the road again, driving up still deserted roads north to San Francisco where they will stay for a day while Matthew gets ready to fly back to his home. "Thanks for today, Al," he says, smiling at his older brother. "It was really great, even though I didn't appreciate getting woken up at midnight just to drive all the way down to an apple orchard in California. But I'm glad we spent time together."
"No problem, bro! After all, I'm just that great of an older brother."
Matthew chuckles and rolls his eyes exasperatedly, however there is something at the back of his mind that is still bothering him. Alfred usually doesn't do these kinds of nice gestures. Yes, he is generally a nice guy, but is not exactly the altruistic type, which makes him wonder why Alfred would even remember a request that he had jokingly made two months ago. So he decides to finally put his nagging mind to rest. "Hey, Al, not to sound rude and ungrateful and all, but why did you even bring me? I thought you'd forgotten all about it."
Alfred turns to him with an eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Really, Mattie? Usually people would think I'd forget it, but to have you forget your own birthday?"
His eyes widen and he can feel himself heating up. Of course, Alfred is one of the few people who actually remembers his birthday, and to think that even he himself forgot. He feels like he could bang his head against the dashboard right about now, but then he becomes aware of Alfred's laughter. "What's so funny?" he snaps, slouching back in his seat.
"You're as red as your red princes," Alfred replies, making him blush even more. "But you know, to be completely corny, you're the red prince today, and you'll always be my red prince."
They laugh at the sweet cheesy-ness of Alfred's line, and Matthew notes to never let Alfred read or watch any more corny romance novels or movies.
And they drive happily into the Californian sunset, just like in one of Al's cheesy movies.
(Until they are forced to stop because of Kumajirou's acquired stomach ache. Matthew spends the rest of that car trip grumbling about Alfred's lack of ability to pick safe apples.)
AN: Holy cow! I just realised that I never made Canada say, 'eh' once in this entire fic! OTL