You burst through the door of your brothers' home with a loud call of their names. You had been offered an opportunity to be housed in an American home across the Atlantic Ocean and had gladly gone for the two month experience, but by the time you got off the plane, all you wanted was to see your brothers.
"Gilbert! Ludwig!" you shouted, throwing your bags in the doorway and standing with your arms spread wide. "Wo seit ihr?" [Where are you?]
You could hear a crash, followed by the running footsteps of your older brother. The scrawny 21-year-old stared at you with wide red eyes and a bright grin. "(F/n)!" he shouted back at you, nearly flying through the hall to crash into your embrace.
The younger brother, Ludwig, calmly made his way to the hall entrance from his office. "Hallo, (F/n)." [Hello]
"Tag!" [Hi] you smiled up at him. Still propping Gilbert up as he clung to you, you stumbled over to your more mature brother, who tightly folded his arms around you as well.
Giggling, you stretched your arms off of Gilbert and around the giant 18-year-old. Ludwig pressed a light kiss to your forehead and pulled away, telling you that he was happy you were home but that he had work to do.
And that he was cooking.
You had missed his food, and your stomach grumbled at the thought. You wanted to rush to the kitchen, but Gilbert still held you close. Groaning, you asked him to let go.
"Wer ist dein Lieblingsbruder?" [Who is your favorite brother?]
From his small office, Ludwig poked his head out of the door, wondering what would cause such an idiotic question. When he saw you pouting in Gilbert's arms, he smiled fondly and got back to work with a stoic expression. However, he still listened for your answer.
Needless to say, you were taken aback, though you hid it under a bored mask. Sighing, you rolled your (e/c) eyes and opened your mouth.
Gilbert beamed, sure of his title as the favorite in the family.
But, of course, you being the bitter and sardonic teenager you were, you rolled your response over in your mind before releasing the words into the open.
"Mein Lieblingsbruder ist," [My favorite brother is] your expression remained stony, as though you were simply reciting vocab from a book, "Ludwig."
The pale adult grinned, snickering a bit. "Dank-" [Thank-] but the word froze on his lips when his brain finally processed your answer. Quickly, he released you and looked at your pursed lips and bored eyes.
He took a step back. "W-was?" [W-what?] he gasped, clutching a hand to his chest dramatically as he began a rant about how much more 'awesome' he was then your other brother.
You sighed, knowing very well just how long such a pity party could go on for. Slowly sliding your feet across the floor, you made it to the kitchen, finally.
"Haben wir eine Cola?" [Do we have any soda?] you shouted through the house.
Ludwig smirked from his spot at his desk before heaving himself up. "Nein. Das ist ungesund. Du bist in Deutschland, nicht in Amerika." [No. That isn't healthy. You're in Germany, not America]
Rolling your eyes at your brother's health obsession, you tugged open the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.
"Ja, ja," [Yes, yes] you muttered to yourself, "Ich habe keinen Lieblingsbruder." [I have no favorite brother]
Turning around, you were startled by the large figure of Ludwig. "Was?" [What?] was all he asked, one eyebrow raised bemusedly.
You gulped, ducking past him. "N-nichts!" [N-nothing].