A/N: Just a small drabble I may expand into a full-fledged fanfic if I have an idea where to take it. Austrian German has its own particular set of words, many to do with produce. While some are falling out of use, they are still an important part of the regional language.
"Pass me the tomatoes, would you, Prussia?"
"The hell'd you just say?"
Roderich paused a moment, knife midway through a cucumber, to backtrack. Had he said something wrong? The simple request seemed straightforward enough. But he had called Gilbert "Prussia", hadn't he? That's something he rarely did since they established good personal relations following the Cold War. But it's not like he hadn't done it before. Surely Gilbert wouldn't still be upset over something so minor like—
"What in hell's name is a 'Paradeiser'?"
Oh.
That.
"On the counter to your left." Roderich began, turning back to slicing cucumbers, "The round little red vegetables in the bag, which I believe we're now supposed to call fruits."
A strange combination of a grunt and a snort sounded from behind him and Roderich heard the rustle of a bag. Turning just in time, he fumbled, but managed to catch the airborne tomato before it made contact with his head. Gilbert, in the meanwhile, already had another in hand, now occupied with tossing it up in the air and catching it in its fall.
"I think the word you're looking for is 'Tomate', Rod." He said, the tomato soaring higher and higher with each throw. Spotting the inevitable disaster in the making, Roderich set down his knife to intercept the tomato on its next descent.
"Maybe in Germany," Roderich answered, eyeing the airborne vegetable, "but as long as you're staying in my house—"he moves quickly, snatching the tomato from above Gilbert's head, "—we're calling them by their proper name."
Gilbert howled at the loss of plaything and slouched back against the counter, pouting as Roderich returned to his cutting board. Several seconds passed in silence before Roderich sighed and turned around once more.
"If you're going to hang around why don't you make yourself useful?" He motioned lazily with his knife to the head of lettuce on the opposing counter. "Could you cut and wash that?"
Gilbert plucked the lettuce head off the counter and closed in on Roderich.
"So… This lettuce also got a strange name in that language of yours?" Gilbert asked, leaning into Roderich. He extended his hand, pausing a moment over Roderich's before plucking the knife out of his grip and retreating to his end of the brightly-lit kitchen. Roderich moved to reclaim his stolen knife, but Gilbert quickly put it to use, slicing through the head of lettuce. Resigned, Roderich opened the utensil drawer to remove another knife.
"Of course not, idiot." He answered after a moment. "Lettuce is lettuce."
And that was that for the moment being.