It started off typically enough. Never one to go without a burger, America munching on a sandwich before the start of, during, after a meeting was not a surprise. Especially when he was the host of the meeting it was an everyday occurrence for him to wander in just past acceptably late chewing on something or other. Without fail it prompted eye rolls, more than a bit of grumbling, and more often than not an explosion from England. While an annoying habit it was one way to wake up the sleepier Nations and jump start Germany into taking control of the meeting.
What made the most recent world conference in America really memorable was not the usual fights and drama, but something usually rather ordinary. It all began at breakfast. Canada, his closest neighbor and brother, had arrived early to eat with America. To his surprise, instead of immediately being raced to the nearest McDonald's, America opened the door wielding a spatula and wearing an apron. "Hey Mattie! Come on in, I'm just finishing up." Shrugging it off, his brother was nothing if not a little odd at times.
Rounding the corner to enter he kitchen Canada stopped and took a deep breath. The room smelled delightfully of pancakes and fruit. America turned and chuckled at his face. "I know I can't make em like you, but I'm hungry enough to eat a horse after my jog this morning!" "Just tell me you have real maple syrup." "Nope." Canada sighed and America turned. "I have bananas and cinnamon apples instead." Canada blinked in surprise. Well the smell of baked fruit made sense now. America turned with the pan and poured the steaming apples into a bowl with one smooth motion.
Canada grabbed plates as his brother put the pan in the sink and pulled off the apron. "Matt milk, oj, something else?" "Milk please." Pouring two glasses, America joined him at the breakfast bar. Piling plates high with hotcakes America went immediately for the apples as Canada sliced a banana over his. "This is actually really nice. Thanks Al." Giving a hum of pleasure, the pancakes were fluffy and complimented nicely by the fruit, Canada finished off his first and added apples to his second. America was on his third and sent his brother a shrewd look.
"Let me guess. You were thinking…." He paused to pop another bite in his mouth. "McDonald's?" Canada didn't meet his eyes and America laughed. "Relax I get it. My cooking is a well-kept secret." This was accompanied by a wink. Canada rolled his eyes and when America's head went back to laugh, armed his fork. He waited until he could see his brother's eyes again and then launched. With a splat cinnamon apples and pancake struck America right between his eyes.
Lifting a hand he wiped it off and liked his fingers all in dramatic slow-mo before meeting Canada's gaze. "It's so on now." The kitchen exploded in food that would probably take a good hour to clean.
"Well that was fun." Both brothers had fruit in their hair and could use a wash. America was grinning broadly as he surveyed the room. Canada could only mourn the fact that there was no way they would make the meeting on time. "Well Al, can't say you don't make even something as ordinary as breakfast an extraordinary event." America clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's get cleaned up so our entrance to the conference can really be heroically dramatic!"
Leaving the kitchen covered in pancakes, apples and cinnamon, and smushed bananas, the twins left a slightly sticky trail down the hall.
It escalated at lunch.
Japan, a bit worn from trying to keep peace during the morning session, was happy to drink his tea and enjoy his lunch outside in the quiet. Always chaotic the meeting hadn't even officially started before there was shouting. Their host America had been forty-five minutes late. In an attempt to get something accomplished Germany had begun without him, but just as they were settling in, the doors had crashed open.
"Never fear, your hero is here!" And the yelling and general childishness had begun. Sighing Japan relaxed and focused on taking in the rustle of the wind in the tree branches and the rumble of life behind him. Turning back to his meal the slightest smile crossed his lips. The home of fast food and no taste maybe, but there was no denying America didn't go all out to make sure everyone ate well. If only America-san would show more of that side to the rest of he world…
As if summoned America slipped out the door holding a plate, red in the face, and looking frustrated. Spotting the smaller Nation he made his way over. "Hey Japan, mind if I join you?" Japan inclined his head towards the seat across from him and he sat down with a huff. "Thanks. I was not staying in there even if I had to climb up to the roof to eat. Iggy is pitching a fit cause France hid his Earl Grey and since I was late and responsible for the food I was his target to rail at." No response. Japan seemed to be having a staring contest with America's plate. "Japan? Something the matter with my food?"
Jumping slightly at being addressed directly and caught staring at that, Japan shook his head. "Ah no America-san. I was just wondering what exactly you are eating?" America had two large sandwiches situated on his plate. Both looked slightly like the submarine sandwiches he had seen before, but different. One was full of meat and melted cheese while the other appeared to have fried shrimp falling out. "Oh these? It's just a Philly cheese steak and a po boy. I was feeling like hometown cooking today."
"Ah yes you have many styles of food, don't you America-san?" America's face lit up in a smile and Japan mentally brightened as well. It was always better to see your friends happy than upset to any degree. "You bet I do! And it's all delicious even though sometimes it's impossible for me to get. I mean I can't constantly be taking off from my boss to get some real southern fried chicken or Midwest fair food."
"Fair food, America-san?" America stared at him in shock and Japan began to backpedal and apologize, but was interrupted. "I've never taken you to one of my county fairs?! Man we have to do it sometime. It's a great experience, especially the food." America was rolling now, his face alight and hands in motion emphasizing his explanations, bad mood forgotten.
Pausing only to eat his own lunch America explained the great variety of food available at a fair. Much of it was fried, but that was just part of the experience it seemed. One item though Japan just couldn't grasp the reasoning behind. "You deep fry the snack cake?" America laughed. "Yeah, they're called 'Twinkies.' They're cream filled little cakes and at fairs they deep fry them for a whole new taste. Crazy, right?"
Japan nodded slightly, really nothing more than a dip of his head. "It is indeed like nothing we eat in my country." America popped a stray piece of shrimp into his mouth and smiled. "But that's part of the fun, isn't it? We're all different and we have a lot to share from our experiences." He laughed. "Mostly I'm in it for all the awesome food, of course!"
"Of course America-san," Japan agreed with a razor thin smile. "Now where did your lunch originate from? They seem widely different despite a few similarities." "Oh yeah! So-" And lunch continued with the comfortable chatter of two friends. However inside the UN headquarters…
Lunch time, a time to recover from the stresses of making world decisions, enjoy some delicious cuisine, and talk with friends. Russia was heading down the hall in search of the Baltics, China, or even America would make for an amusing distraction from Belarus. Suddenly a young woman glancing around distractedly bumped into him. In her hands was a delicious smelling pie and she barely kept a hold of it as she stumbled back. Looking up she froze at the sight of the towering Russian.
For his part Russia attempted to smile warmly. "H-hello. Who are you? Oh, what's that?" The woman startled from her trance at being addressed. "I-it's a pie for M-Mr. America." Russia's smile widened. He read in a book that big smiles make you look friendlier, but for some reason the lady's hands started to shake. "Oh dear, looks like you will be dropping that soon, yes? Here let me be helping you."
Russia extended his hands towards the pie and the woman's hands clenched before she all but shoved it into his larger hands. "T-thank you. I t-think someone said Mr. America is outside." Her hands were now fisted in her skirt as she avoided his violet eyes.
Russia's smile dropped. She didn't look very happy at all, not like he wanted her to be. He'd seen that look before on—"I know where he is. I can be giving this to him. But, ah, are you all ri-" But before he could finish, the woman had turned on her heel and all but scurried back the way she had come.
Russia's shoulders dropped and he sighed, but straightened again. He could always find her later to check on her, but first he would deliver her pie. That would make her happy, right? "Outside did she say? I wonder if any other friends will be with the silly American?"
Securing the pie in one hand, Russia glided through the revolving door to meet face-to-face with the sticky July afternoon in New York. He wasn't used to such warmth especially with all his layers, but anything was better than the bone chilling cold of Siberia. He turned and made his way along the side of the building, walking for meters and meters toward the growing sounds of people. Discovering the source turned out to be less of conversing friends and more of absolute chaos.
Splashes of water broke over the ground, the building, and the people as they fought free of their colorful containers. Apparently America had set out water balloons to beat the heat and the other Nations had discovered hem. Surprisingly America himself was not in the midst of the chaos taking fun in soaking their fellow, generally stuffy peers. His competitive and mischievous streaks both being a mile wide.
Thinking back with a smile on the fun days of matching wits, Russia continued around to the back of the complex. There taking shelter from the sun in the shade of dark green tree branches, Russia finally found his objective grinning like a fool and gesturing frantically to the much smaller Japan, who looked rather frightened. Japan spotted him first and looked surprised, but quickly settled back into his natural calm. "Good day, Russia-san. I am pleased you could join us."
"It is always pleasant to see friends, Japan," Russia agreed cheerfully. "Ah America here is a treat for you. A nice woman asked me to deliver it to you." America reached forward and set the pie down on the table all while eyeing the Russian cautiously. "Thanks Russia." Catching a stern look from Japan, he rolled his eyes and said, "Would you like to have a slice since you brought it out?"
Russia clapped his hands together. "Da, it smells good. What is baked into pie?" America laughed as he picked up a knife and sliced up the dessert. "What else, but all-American apple pie!"
"We have apple pie in my country too. Isn't it nice to share things with friends, America?" America's face twisted in a most interesting way that seemed torn between frustration, disgust, and a speck of amusement. "It's great Russia. Here's your American apple pie."
The slice was of generous size, steaming a bit, and crumbling in a mouthwatering way. A bite revealed sweet sticky warmth, the spices and the apples both well balanced. "A good treat America, but very sweet," Russia announced before taking another bite. "My pie is more… I believe you say tart?" Japan nodded as he tried the slice America handed him as he sliced a third.
"Huh, maybe I'll have to try it sometime. It's interesting to try different varieties of the same food." America laughed. "I like vanilla ice cream or slices of American cheese on apple pie depending on the day." Russia's fork paused in midair as both he and Japan stared at the blond.
"Cheese, America-san?" Unfailingly polite yet Japan's tone was still that of utter disbelief. "Yeah cheese on apple pie is really great!" America seemed to sincerely not understand his companion's issue with this thought. Slowly Russia shook his head.
"Amerika you are very strange in food and person." Japan nodded slightly in agreement. America smiled falsely bright. "Well thanks Russia. I love to hear that from the guy who scared a poor woman into giving him a pie!" Stung, Russia chuckled, the atmosphere darkened considerably, and Japan wished desperately that neither of the larger Nations had found him for lunch.
The tension snapped with a yell. "There you are, you git!" A soaking England had discovered them and was now taking aim at America. Japan watched as America turned just in time to take the yellow water balloon in the face. Blinking water out of his eyes, the blond looked the very definition of confused.
Russia chuckled, with true feeling this time, and America gave a feral grin. "Oh you think that's funny?" He grabbed another balloon from England who had come up to the table, and broke it over Russia's head. "You will regret da?" "Make me you crazy ex-commie!"
And they were off, headed toward the noise of the rest of the water balloon fight, leaving Japan and England behind. "That almost seemed… friendly?" The European sighed. "I'll never understand how America's mind works."
Japan gave an enigmatic smile. "No one really does, England-san."
This was madness pure and simple. Why on earth had he agreed to this again? Ah right. Italy had wanted to and he would prefer not to snub the world superpower to his face. What could it hurt? Obviously it would at least give Germany a migraine.
Running a hand over his face Germany sighed before glancing around. After the meeting America had announced he was having a big dinner for anyone who would like to attend. Most Nations had declined citing other plans, exhaustion, or plain disgust for anything called "American food." The few who had remained were asked personally and so Germany had ended up at America's house with Italy.
As it was July, the heat had yet to abate and still upon arrival they discovered a sign pointing around back instead of inside away from the humidity. Following the sounds of music Germany and Italy found America in the backyard singing along to the radio as he set up the grill. "America good evening! We're here!"
Looking around at Italy's greeting, a smile broke across America's face. "Hey welcome! I was just getting set up but make yourselves at home. Drinks are inside, top shelf of the fridge and I'll be here if you need anything else." Whistling along with the music he turned back again to light the grill.
Taking up a chair on the back deck Germany relaxed to the sound of America and Italy's chatter as others began to arrive. First was England who America made sure to keep both within sight and out of the kitchen, citing his reason as he was their host and responsible for the food. Following him was France who easily kept emotion, whether frustration or happiness, at a high. Soon after was Spain with Romano, who looked drug along to say the least. Finally, came Prussia who crashed through the entirety of the house and out the back door with a shout. "Now this party can start!"
With each new arrival the noise level grew until Prussia officially pushed it into 'too loud' for Germany. He had never enjoyed noisy preferring quiet solitude or the company of a chosen few. Hence the beginnings of a migraine. Rubbing his temples slightly, Germany sighed and closed his eyes.
"You don't have to stay you know?" Jumping at the unexpected sound of another person's voice, Germany found America next to him holding a plate of burgers clearly fresh off the grill. "I mean if you don't want to stay I won't be offended," he elaborated at Germany's incredulous look. "I know we're not exactly close and this isn't really your thing. Don't feel obligated because it's me Ludwig." America smiled at him and went inside.
And if that wasn't a sad smile Germany was really as oblivious as everyone believed. Instead he caught America as the Nation stepped back out with the plate, burgers now on buns and two large pitchers. America blinked and opened his mouth but Germany overrode him. "Is there anything you need help with Alfred?" Another blink and then, "Sure yeah. It would be great if you could grab the baked beans and the potato chips off the counter."
With a nod the German turned to the doors, but not before catching America's questioning look as he stepped off the porch. Inside Germany enjoyed the cool breeze of the air conditioning wrapping around his skin. It was set low, but still cut down the hammer of the humidity. America's house was very open with large windows that filled the rooms with natural light. The kitchen was on the left, wide counters set with waiting dishes. A big bowl each of potato chips and baked beans were picked up as Germany took a glance at the other waiting foods which quite frankly he found to be mystery objects.
Balancing the two bowls carefully he was saved from juggling as the door was pushed open for him by a still bemused looking America. "Thanks if you could just put them on the table while I get the rest." Spotting the folding table upon which now set the burgers and pitchers, Germany headed over as Italy bounded up next to him.
"There you are! I'm having fun, how about you? I can't wait to eat. America seems to know what he's doing with the grill." The cheerful chatter was a balm to Germany's nerves as familiar as the hands that brushed his as the bowl of chips was lifted by the brunet to be set down easily.
"I am having a good time. I believe we'll be eating shortly… Whatever it is America is serving us." Their host was emerging from the house with more dishes and a collection of bottles. "Here's the last of the sides and the condiments!" Germany and Italy peered down in confusion at the bowl and plate he set down. Upon the plate was a wiggling molded green thing with other things suspended within it. The bowl on the other hand was mashed looking mix of vegetables.
Sensing their confusion America laughed and went down the table naming each dish. "Baked beans, regular potato chips, coleslaw, and lemon lime Jell-O with carrots and cabbage with iced tea and lemonade to drink. Any questions?" Italy was speechless so that left Germany to clear things up. "America… how did you ever come up with some of these dishes?"
The blond burst out laughing. "You're talking about the Jell-O right? It's an original that's for sure and definitely an acquired taste." Still chuckling at Italy's continued speechlessness, America turned to the rest of the yard. "Hey, food's on!" He nodded to Germany and Italy before returning to the grill.
Romano and Spain reached them first. Taking in Italy's state, they grew concerned. "Is Feli okay?" Spain questioned Germany as Romano grabbed his brother's shoulders. "Veneziano? Is something wrong?" Every time Romano spoke in a normal register it took Germany by surprise.
With a wail Italy threw his arms around his brother to Romano's obvious surprise. "Fratello! I'm scared to eat it!" Spain patted the distraught Nation on the back while Romano glared death at the spread. "What the hell?! Did the burger moron poison it?" A tinkling laugh that grated on the ears was the response of the approaching France. "No, he is not trying to poison us anymore than Arthur tries to when he cooks." This was of course when England joined the group. Everyone stared at him silently for a moment. He flushed, crossed his arms, and huffed, "What are you lot looking at?"
"Obviously they are taking a moment to bask in the glory of Myself, bushy brows." Really his brother's antics shouldn't surprise him anymore, but Germany still fought the urge to smack himself in the forehead at the sight of Prussia posing for the group of Nations.
"Anyway," Romano interrupted the albino. "Which dish is the problem, Veneziano?" A quivering finger pointed towards the wiggling green form upon the table. As if feeling the stares, the Jell-O stopped moving. Hesitantly France gave it a poke and jumped back as if it's renewed jiggle was an attempt to bite him.
From the other side of the table a fork descended to take a generous piece of the gelatin. All the Nations watched with disgust as a scoop of mayonnaise was added on top and the whole terrible mixture was popped into America's mouth. Humming in satisfaction their host placed a plate of barbequed ribs onto the table. "Dig in! I hope you enjoy everything." With what could only be described as an evil chuckle he walked away to take care of the grill.
"He's trying to kill us," Romano deadpanned. His brother immediately broke out into loud sobs. "I can't look! America is going to die!" France and Spain comforted the hysterical brunet. "No no Italy. America has a cast iron stomach thanks to England." The man in question made no reply as his focus was solely elsewhere. Eyebrows furrowed, he was studying and muttering over the plate.
"It is not poisonous per se, but I'm avoiding it all the same." With that the Briton began to fill a plate. Shrugging France joined him followed by Spain, Romano, and Italy. Sighing in relief at the passing storm, Germany's shoulder dipped as Prussia leaned on him. "Hey West, you dare me to eat it?"
"If you wish to suffer the consequences…" The blond was interrupted by a loud, "I dare you to eat it!" Both Germans looked at America's mischievous smile and then Prussia smirked. "Challenge accepted." A spoon was picked up, a generous bite scooped, mayonnaise added, and the mixture handed over with the solemnity of a national honor. America began a drumroll with his hands on the table as Prussia swallowed and placed the bite in his mouth. Fascinated despite himself, Germany watched his brother's face closely as he chewed.
It was quite like watching someone eat a whole lemon the way Prussia's face wrinkled and his first instinct was to spit it out. Eventually though as America's drumroll built to a crescendo, he swallowed and threw the spoon down in triumph. "Ha! Nothing can beat the awesome-"
Red irises rolled back and his knees gave as Prussia fainted to the ground. Having attracted the attention of the entire gathering, silence reigned before accusing eyes alighted on America. Their host simply whistled and said, "I have never seen that happen before." And then he set about taking pictures of the unconscious Nation.
Trading glances the rest of the group swore they would never touch something America deemed an acquired taste. The rest of the evening passed enjoyably enough. The buzz of conversation and the warmth of good food filled the evening. The final bump came with dessert. A plate heaped with fudge had been presented and enjoyed by all until Italy had asked after the recipe.
"Oh it's pretty easy; just make sure not to forget the Velveeta." At Italy's confused look America elaborated. "It's kinda like processed cheese, but-" Looks of disgust began to pass around and he sighed. "Oh come on! It's not that different than putting mayo in cake to make it soft." Slowly the other Nations nodded as the realization that the treat had tasted good, if a tad too sweet for some.
"Gosh everyone thinks I've got no taste, but really- Hey the sun's setting!" Turning the group watched in quiet contemplation as color began to spread across the sky. "It's getting late, we had best head out. Italy?" Curl bouncing the brunet stood. "Coming Germany! Thank you for dinner America."
Having set off the chain, Germany and Italy finished their goodbyes as everyone stood and gathered dishes. Farewells said, everyone dispersed. The sound of cars rumbling away the last sign of their presence.
This quiet close seems like a letdown after he promises of madness or at least excitement at the beginning. Yet that's the shape of things. Sometimes small events have earth shaking effects, but more often it's the small bubbles of memory we hold close. Something perfect and familiar and achingly normal that helps ground us in rush of life. Something as simple as comfort food from home.
This was a prompt given to me by my good friend 3vad127. I finally finished it after uploading it meal by meal on my tumblr and I got her permission to upload the whole shebang here!
Drop me a review and let me know what you think.