Disclaimer: Surprisingly I don't own Hetalia, or the BBC, or MasterChef.
I apologise now for any and all incorrect French, fell free to correct if you find any.
"Today you join us at the grand opening of the Restaurant d'amour et d'apprentissage! The first restaurant to be opened by the young and up and coming star chef, Francis Bonnefoy."
A man and woman dressed in formal wear, stand outside a shiny new building, all white walls and sparkling floor to ceiling windows. Above the double doors, shiny silvery metal letters spell out the restaurants name in smooth cursive.
"Yes, at just the age of 26, Francis has already achieved numerous awards for his culinary skill and craftsmanship."
The woman carries on, far too perky for talking about a new place opening, the man nodding along with her.
"He was a star pupil at his culinary school in the south of France, but he truly gained the worlds attention with his overwhelming success in the BBC's MasterChef last year."
He drones on, trying to sound professional but just coming of as board.
"And now, today this bright young man is fulfilling his dream of opening his very own restaur-"
Arthur sighs, shutting of the T.V.
"Peter, time for school!" He shouts up the stairs of his small London flat, though he know's the boy will just ignore him, like always.
So, like usual, he heads into the kitchen to pack the boys lunch; a ham sandwich, apple, soda, and one of his homemade scones.
Lunch ready and, as expected, no sign of the boy. So, like always, he trudges up the stairs and knocks on his brothers door twice before entering.
The room is just as messy as ever, no matter how many times he cleans it. Clothes and games cover the floor, the walls plastered with posters and curtains still pulled shut. And Peter is still in bed, trying to block his brother out by hiding under the covers.
Arthur sighs once more as he manoeuvres his way to the window to pull back the curtains, allowing the early morning light to flood the room, before making his way to the bed and ripping the covers back, revealing his stubborn little brother.
"Come on Peter, it's time for school." He repeats himself, receiving a groan in response.
"Must we do this every day? Come on, up, now. Or you won't have time for breakfast."
He warns as he picks up the empty wash basket in the corner and starts filling it with the dirty clothes lying about.
Sleep thoroughly disturbed, the preteen groans overly loudly as he rolls out of bed, stomping his way downstairs. Arthur's learnt by now that if he just leaves the room, Peter would never get up, so, he has to busy himself until the boy finally does as he's asked.
Washing basket full, he heads back to the kitchen to put the load on, finding Peter stirring a bowl of cereal.
"It'll go soggy if you don't eat it." He warns as he moves about, receiving another groan for his warning.
"Peter we speak English in this house, not groans. Please try to use your words at least sometime today."
"But I don't wanna go to schoooool." He whines, slumping onto the table.
"Hurray, he speaks." Arthur raises his hands sarcastically in praise.
"But I don't wanna."
"Well too bad, because your going. Now hurry up and get dressed or your going to be late." He urges him, shooing the younger away from the table.
"Urgh, But I have a maths test today!" The whining continues even as the boy returns to his room to change.
Arthur just shakes his head as he gets ready for work. They've had this same song and dance every day since Peter came to live with him, and honestly, he's tired of it. Why their mother wished for him to take custody of Peter rather than one of his other brothers, he'll never know.
Five minutes later, his brother finally makes a reappearance, now dressed for school. Arthur grabs their coats, passing Peter his, then his keys and bag, before opening the door.
"Come on." He says softer this time, giving the boy an affectionate head rub as he walks out the door.
Sighing, Arthur drops his keys back in the bowl as he returns home.
"Peter, I'm home!" He call's into the apartment.
When he receives no response he heads straight for the boys room, finding him in a heap on the bed.
"Bad day?" He asks, leaning on the door way.
"Mhhufh." The others voice is muffled by the pillow he has his face pressed into.
"English, Peter."
His brother raises and drops his arms before rolling over just enough to be heard properly.
"Maths sucks." He grumbles moodily.
"Ah." Arthur nods, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed, "So the test didn't go to well then I take it?"
Peter shakes his head, punching a fist into his pillow, "Why do I even have to learn stupid trigonometry?"
"Well, because it's important." Arthur reasons, placing a hand on his brothers head in comfort.
"But I'm never going to have to use it."
"You might."
"Ha!" The younger laughs sharply, "When? Do you ever have to use trig?"
"Well, no..." Arthur thinks fast for a way to save this, "But I'm not a mathematician or an architect, so I don't need to."
"Well, I'm definitely not going to become one of those then."
"Oh? And what are you going to become then?" He asks, happy for the change in subject to get his brothers mood back up, he's never liked seeing Peter sad.
"Hmm," The boy frowns, thinking as he rolls onto his back, "A marine biologist or and astronaut." He smiles, suddenly sitting up, "Oh, Oh, or the president of America!"
"Hehe," Arthur can't help but laugh at his brothers grand goals, "Well, at least two of those are possible. But I'm afraid unless they change the law, president is out of the running for you."
"Huh, Why?"
"Because your not American silly, only Americans can become president."
"Aww!"
"Hehe, Alright, I'll get started on dinner."
"Uuurgh!"
Peter huffs as he flops back on his bed, but Arthur's used to this response by now.
An hour and a half later, Peter sits picking his way through 'dinner'. At least his brother didn't set off the smoke detector this time, but you couldn't tell it from the food. The vegetables are so over cooked, they're practically mush, and the meat is so burnt it has a black coating. Oddly enough the only really good thing about tonight's roast is the gravy, which he saw his brother making from scratch yesterday.
That's the thing with Arthur's cooking, without fail, something will always be burnt and something will always be almost perfect, it's like he has no in between. It's just luck what the good thing will be. Last week they had chicken casserole and it was the veg that was burnt but the chicken was perfect.
Even so, he eats it anyway. Partly because he's hungry, partly because it makes Arthur happy, but mostly so he can get dessert later, something which Arthur is somehow amazing at. Tonight, the promise of blackberry tarts is his reward for stomaching burnt pork.
But Peter has a plan. A way to save himself from his brothers bad cooking once and for all. He just needs to find the right way to bring it up...
"Hey, Art?"
"Yes Pete?" His brother asks, looking up from his plate.
"I was wondering, have you heard about that new restaurant that just opened down town?"
"This is London Peter, your going to have to be more specific." Arthur jokes.
"You know, the one with that MasterChef guy?"
"Oh, you mean that French frog that was on the news?" His brother makes a face at that, but Peter smiles regardless.
"Yeah, that one! I was kinda hoping we could go there, maybe?" He tries to play it cool, hoping his brother won't catch onto him just yet.
The elder shakes his head, "Sorry Pete, but a place like that is far to expensive for us."
"Oh." Right, he forgot that the place must be really expensive to go to, well, to eat at anyway.
While lost in thought on how to convince his brother to go, Arthur surprises him by giving him just that.
"Tell you what, if your really good, and by that I mean you get up for school on time when I tell you, and you do all your homework and chores. And if you do well on your English test on Friday, I'll take you there as your birthday treat next week, Alright?"
He snaps his head up, shocked by the offer, then beams, "Yeah! Deal!" He cheers.
"Good," Arthur nods, "then you can start by finishing your dinner."
Suddenly the burnt food looks like the best thing in the world as he clears his plate in record time.
Two more weeks, then everything will be perfect!
It was a hard two weeks, Peter is pretty sure Arthur gave him extra chores just to test him, but he made it! Even Miss K's English test was destroyed by his determination to make this happen, getting an A for the first time.
Arthur was clearly impressed and so, as promised, the pair now make their way to the gates of paradise, or so Peter has come to view the place.
Inside the blindingly white building, groups of square tables dot the floor in a stylish fashion, covered with white table cloths and glistening silverware, a small bowl holds a single flower at the centre of each table.
It's early evening, but the place is still packed as it's so new.
Walking up to the front desk, Arthur primly asks, "Reservation for Kirkland." And the waiter takes them straight to a free table by a window at the back of the room.
They're handed their menus as the man asks to start them off with a drink.
The food is just as good as to be expected from such a high class establishment, and Peter can't wait to have this all the time, or so he hopes if his plan goes well.
Halfway through his meal, he excuses himself to go to the loo, but really he's on a mission. He weaves his way out the building and round the side, to where the other half of the building is held. In here, he finds the sign up form he's been looking for. With this, he hurries back to his brother. Now all he has to do is get the man to sign it and turn up on the day.
"That was fast." Arthur blinks at his brother, having been gone for only a few minutes.
"What? I said I just had to pee."
"Hmh." His brother nods slowly, giving him a suspicious look, then sighs.
"Alright, out with it. What do you want?"
"Huh?"
Arthur frowns down at him, "Don't think I'm stupid Peter, I know your up to something. And for some reason, you wanted me to come here, so, out with it." He demands.
"Uh," Well, no point beating around the bush now, "I want you to take cooking lessons." He blurts, closing his eyes as he waits for his brother to explode.
But when nothing happens, he peaks an eye open to look, finding Arthur staring at him.
"Cooking lessons?" He asks slowly, disbelievingly.
"Yeeeaahhh."
"Let me get this straight, you devised this grand scheme to get me here so I would take cooking lessons?"
"Mhmm," He nods, handing over the sign up form he grabbed, "You see, the guy who owns the place, Francis Bonnefoy, he also runs his own free drop-in to teach people how to cook, all you have to do is sign up for it." He explains, twiddling his thumbs and looking away, "I thought that, you know, you might give it a go? Please?"
"Cooking lessons?" His brother repeats.
Oh god, maybe he broke him! How do you un-brake a person?
Then, suddenly Arthur bursts out laughing so much he doubles over, drawing attention from the other tables.
"Uh..."
"Sorry, Sorry," He gasps, trying to catch his breath, "I just can't believe you got an A in English just to get me to sign up for cooking lessons. Hehehehe."
"Um."
Wow, now that he says it, that does sound silly, but desperate times and all that.
"Wait, so you knew?"
"Well, no, not exactly. I knew you were planning something so I decided to play along, and test how far you were willing to go."
So that's what all the extra chores were about, sneaky jerk.
Arthur's smile drops as he looks down, "So, my cooking really is that bad?" He whispers, more to himself than Peter.
Great, now he feels like the jerk. But Arthur looks back up before he can say anything else.
"Very well then. I'll sigh up for these lessons, but in exchange, you have to also keep up this good behaviour of yours. Don't make that face, I promise I wont give you any extra chores. All I ask, is you go to school on time and do well, deal?"
Well, it's what he wanted, so how can he say no?
"Deal!" He grins at his brother.
So this isn't how he planned things to go, but it all worked out in the end, now, it's up to the French guy to do the impossible, teach Artie how to cook.
Saturday morning and Arthur is up early as usual. Since today isn't a school day and Peter was up well past midnight celebrating his birthday, the boy is still out cold. Not that he can blame him, it's rare that he lets Peter stay up past his bed time, so it's to be expected that he'd be tired, this just means more time to himself.
Arthur let's out a happy sigh as he sips his morning tea, sitting on the sofa and enjoying the quiet, something that has become quite rare with Peter around. He has the day off work today, which means he'll probably end up spending the day cleaning.
Just as he makes to stand and get started, he spots the form from last night sitting on the coffee table. He picks it up as he recalls their deal, chuckling a bit as he still can't believe it.
Or that he agreed.
But really, this is what he want's right? With this deal, Peter is already starting to improve both at home and at school. Little Pete got an A in English! He's so proud of him, he would have taken him out to anywhere he wanted just for that alone.
Arthur knows he's not the best guardian in the world. He and Peter have had their fair share of problems over the past two years. For the first three months after their mothers death, the boy refused to even talk to him, always hiding away in his room and having to be dragged out to school, let alone anywhere else.
Things started to get better when he finally began to open up but, that only lead to new conflicts between them. But they made it work and for a while, things seemed to be okay, but recently it's like the boy has begun to relapse. Staying in his room all day, barely even talks to him most days and not showing any interest in anything anymore.
Part of him knows it's just him growing up, but he's worried he's somehow failing Pete, like there's something more he should be doing, he just doesn't know what.
Then suddenly his spark was back, he could see that Peter was planning something, and he was just so glad that his brother was acting himself again, he didn't want to put a stop to it.
He just didn't know his plan was to convince him to take cooking lessons.
He can admit, he's not the worlds greatest cook, not by a long shot. But he didn't think his cooking was so bad that his own brother would plot against him.
Well, maybe that's a bit harsh, but the point still stands! He's not a bad cook. Not really.
Is he?
He looks down at the form again. It talks about the wonders of learning to cook a homemade meal, how anyone can do it if they try. Below that, are a list of times available, all run by the restaurants own star chef, that frog guy.
At least the drop-in sessions are free, all he has to do is sign his name and turn up. No problem.
And if this is the price he has to pay to see that Peter continues to improve, then there's no question.
He's going to start taking cooking lessons. God help him.
"Have fun." He waves to Peter as he drops the boy of at a friends house for the day.
His brother smiles and waves back, the happiest he's seen him in weeks.
"Learn something tasty!" He shouts back, jogging up to his friends house and disappearing inside.
"Cheeky brat." He smiles, shaking his head as he sets of for the restaurant once more.
He parks the car outside in the large parking lot, and sighs.
He really doesn't want to do this, but he doesn't have a choice.
"Come on Art, chin up. This is for Pete." He tells himself.
Resigning to his doom and heads on in.
The drop-in isn't what he expected. He expected rows of stations with a bench and oven at each, like you see on those cooking shows. Instead, the ovens are all in a circle at the centre of the room, with work benches ringing it. The place gives Arthur the feel of a target, not liking the idea of the fiery centre.
"Ah bonjour! Your new, come for the drop-in?"
Arthur jumps slightly, spinning around to face the other man. This must be the frog, he reasons.
Before him a man of about the same height, dressed in chef whites, with shiny shoulder length blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail with a silk red ribbon, bright blue eyes and short stubble greets him.
Arthur blinks, surprised, before answering.
"Ah, Yes."
The man smiles brightly at his answer.
"Magnifique!"
He cheers happily as he claps his hands together, and Arthur already knows he's going to hate him. He's just so... French.
"Do you have a form?"
Settling for silent seething, Arthur 'gently' thrusts the form over.
The man blinks at his forcefulness, before his smile returns, accepting the form.
"Well, Arthur, your a bit early, but I can't fault you for eagerness."
"I'm not eager." He snaps, stopping himself short of saying anything he'll regret. "My brother's the one who want's me to come here." He tries to explain more calmly.
"Ah, I see." The man says with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.
"But where are my manors? I'm Francis Bonnefoy, head chef here at Restaurant d'amour et d'apprentissage, and I'll be your teacher today."
"Great." He says, working hard not to come of as sarcastic.
This is going to be a challenge.
"Bonjour! Bonjour." Francis smiles as he waves the other visitors in, the drop-in quickly filling up for today's session, glad to have anyone else to talk to other than that annoying Englishman in the corner.
He's lived in England long enough to know that the people here can be broodish and standoffish, liking their personal space. But this man is the worst he's met. He's tried everything; being welcoming, friendly, interesting, but nothing, no matter what he does, the other refuses to relax and have a little fun while they waited.
He had hope to do a quick starter one on one with the man to kill time, but the other was so resistant to anything he said, he simply couldn't find a way to even start with him.
With others in now, he can start the session and mostly ignore the newbie, past general guidance.
Or so he thought.
"Arthur! Your soup is burning!" He warns as he dashes over to save the meal, pulling the pan from the heat onto an unused ring to let it cool and stop the burning.
Arthur however, doesn't seem nearly as alarmed by this.
"Isn't that how it's supposed to cook?" He asks, head tilted like a child not understanding the basics of the world around them.
"Non, it is not. The soup should not stick or burn to the bottom of the pot. You must stir it to prevent that." He patiently explains.
Arthur's a newbie, clearly a beginner, he can be patient with him.
Or so he's trying, but frowns at the gas flame, turning the setting down.
"And you had the ring at 6, I said set it to 4."
"Oh, so it was."
Francis is amazed by how clueless this man is. Surely something as simple as setting the ring to a number should be easy. Never has he known someone to mess up even this, yet here he is, saving soup, something near impossible to burn unless you stop paying attention.
"Here," He hands the pot back over, placing it back on the flame at the correct temperature, "stir this. Don't let it burn again."
"Alright."
Francis had thought that that would be the last of the hiccups, but no. Even while he watched Arthur was still able to burn the soup, correct temperature and all. Then, while showing how to make a simple salad before the sessions end, Arthur managed to put sugar instead of salt in his mix. This fascinated Francis, as he's certain he never put any sugar out. He was even more amazing when Arthur willingly ate his creations and liked it.
His chef's heart wept when the man even smiled and told him it was the best thing he's ever made.
Francis sighed, heavily dropping into his seat as he watched them go. Everyone else had done wonderful, barely a mistake between them. It was like Arthur just absorbed everything that could go wrong then magnified it in his own meals, short of setting the salad on fire —which he's actually considering as a very real possibility with him— he's made every newbie mistake he knows of, and then some.
And yet...
Francis can't help but smile. He hasn't felt this weary after cooking in a long time, but seeing the smile on that man's face as he left with the recipe cards...
Something warm flutters inside his chest at the thought, and, despite everything, he sincerely hopes Arthur comes back.
That night, Peter sat on the kitchen table, watching his brother cook dinner. Smiling to himself as he sees the concentration on Arthur's face as he refers to the recipe card, and tries to recall everything Francis told him. He double checks the temperature, makes sure he doesn't forget to stir the soup as it simmers, not boils, cuts the veg to the right size, and tastes as he goes.
"Dinner is served." He announces as he pours the soup out into bowls and smiles at Peter.
He oh's at the dish, mouth watering at the sight, it's at least the best looking thing Arthur has made in a long while.
"What is it?"
"Mediterranean vegetable soup and," his brother drops a loaf of bread between them, "whole meal brown bread."
He sniffs the soup, it does smell good. If it looks good and smells good then it must taste good, but with his brother there's no guarantee. Still, he's hungry and this is what he's getting so, he braves having a taste, as he sips it, he can see Arthur's worried eyes on him.
"Well?" He asks, sounding how he looks.
Peter's eyes widen and he drops his spoon, mouth gaping.
"What? Peter? Pete what is it?!" Arthur asks, becoming progressively more worried by his brothers lack of response.
"There is a God, and his name is Francis." He says in awe, "He must be, because he's done the impossible."
His brother looks at him suspiciously, "And what does that mean?"
"This is good. Like, really, really good." He can't wait another moment and starts devouring the soup.
Arthur blinks in shock, then beams in pride.
"See, I told you I could cook." He proclaims, sitting up straighter, the picture of pride.
Peter smiles back at him around a mouthful of bread.
He's saved. Now his brother will definitely go back for more lessons.
If only he knew how much trouble he's about to cause Francis.
Authors notes: Hello! Welcome to the Hells Kitchen, Wait no, wrong show.
why am I writing three fics a three once? Because I can!
Anyway this is my first FrUk fic and first attempt at romance, so prepare for failed attempt at relationships, you have been warned. I just wanted to try some domestic type stuff, so this'll be mostly fluff, probably. There'll be plenty of kitchen and cooking fails ahead along with FrUk madness and recipe walk throughs. Fun fact, I wrote this entire chapter while hungry so I'm gonna go eat now.
But in the mean time, feel free to leave a suggestion of any recipes you'd like to see Francis try to teach Arthur.
R & R people.
Till next time, stay awesome!