The scents of chicken and the spice adorning it, stir-fried vegetables, and various sauces traveled to every corner of Mauritius's home. America took in the smell and found that his eyes were closed and lips curled up into a smile as he sat on the couch, hands on either side of him palming the faces of the couch cushions which supported his back. If she really doesn't want any help… well… He opened his eyes again, stood, and headed to the source of the smell and the cooking.
In different pots and pans and such in the kitchen cooked, fried, or boiled the ingredients for bol renversé. Mauritius hadn't told America what she was making, having planned to reveal it to him upon her plating the food. When he stepped in she turned the stove's heaters off, stirred some cut pieces of onions and lettuce and other greens one last time, and began to place the food into two bowls which sat atop two plates. The chicken and vegetables went in first, then the rice, and finally the sauce and a few more spices on top of them.
"Looks goo— h-HEY!"
Mauritius turned these bowls upside down onto the plates. The chicken, rice, and vegetables remained in a bowl-like shape once on the plate. She reached and grabbed two fried, sunny-side up eggs and topped the food with them.
Soon America stopped trembling — "H… phew!" — and wiped some sweat from his brow "You sure scared me, Mauri," he appended, re-orienting his head to face her.
She giggled softly, covering her mouth with her hand. "That's bol renversé!"
"Laughter in her kiss."
"'Bowl reverse'?" … … Ooooooohhhhhhh…" He smiled to his ears and laughed momentarily. "Wow, okay… anyways, as I was saying, 'Looks good'!"
"I hope you like it, then." She was glad that his first impression appeared a positive one. Soon the plates were sat on the table, utensils and napkins laid out on either side. "Have a seat."
I could have set the table. And I should have."Thanks." It took him little time to do so, and now he had more opportunity to admire the look and smell of the dish, which he took. "Well, then."
"Bon appétit, Amerique," she told him before beginning to eat.
"You too, Mauri." He took up some rice, chicken, stir-fried vegetables, and a bit of egg with his fork and ate it. "…"
"What do you think, America?" she naturally wondered aloud.
He sat there and looked up at her. "I'd give it a 'whoa, I didn't know food could be this good'... out of 10."
She chuckled, hearing that. "So, you like it?"
"Absolutely! You know, I would have settled for just going out and finding a McDonald's in Port Louis. You didn't have to make me dinner."
"Huh?" She tilted her head. "I wanted to… and what sort of hostess would I be if I didn't make you food?"
"You're already being kind enough, letting me crash at your place, I don't nee—"
"America!" Now Mauritius's brows were furrowed.
This interruption shook him in his seat somewhat. "Yes?"
"You're always like this," she noted with a pout. "And, to be honest, it's really tiring! It's nothing like you. Every time I offer to do something for you, you turn me down. I wouldn't be asking if I didn't really want to! I'm sorry, but… you might think that you're being humble, or something, but really, you're making me feel useless. I almost get the vibe that you don't appreciate my efforts."
"I—" He stopped before going any further, but simply didn't end up doing so. This series of accusations against him spurred him from instinct to give an instant retort, but he didn't know how, until now: "Do you want me to be selfish? What?"
"I didn't say that. I just want you to stop saying 'no' so much. I really don't see why you have to."
"Bah…" He looked away. "Mauri, every time someone like England or China criticizes me for being annoying and selfish and loud and a glutton and all that stuff and more…! It gets to me. I don't want it to, but it does. To the point where, yeah, no, I don't want to be a burden. That's how my mentality goes, you know?"
She looked him in the eyes. "Viens ici."
"Mm?"
"Viens ici, s'il te plait."
"… okay…" He stood up and walked over to her.
She stepped out of her own chair and put her hands at his sides. "You don't have to change for them… you know I like you the way you are. I remember when I met you, how loud and confident you were! And now you seem so shy and reserved, easily embarrassed and, worst of all — to me — you're still self-centered. Don't you see?"
"Huh?" He raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised that she was acting like this. Oops, I underestimated her! She must be right, ohhh…
"You never want anyone to do stuff for you. You always want to do it yourself. But that's selfish, sais-tu? What I get from you saying stuff like that is that you don't need anyone's help. And that's just not true, is it? It's not. You can't go at anything alone, America…"
"Mauri…" He lowered and shook his head. "Nobody wants to help me out because I'm so obnoxious to them!"
She wanted to say, "You're not obnoxious to me. Japan might think you're annoying, but he puts up with you, he's told me. And I know England, I know he cares for you deep down. He's just… you know…"
"A tsundere?"
She giggled softly. "Oui, you could say that."
He smiled softly and put his hands at her sides. "So, you want me to be me, then? Not someone I'm not?"
"Oui."
"Well, I can do that! No challenge is too great for me, since I'm the hero! And, you know what, Mauri? I could use a drink."
Her eyes lit up. "There he is, there's the America I love."
"Sure hope so." He grinned and hugged her. "But, seriously, do you have something like Coke lying around?"
"Oui, of course! Let me bring you a glass."
"I—" He remembered instantly what she said. "Ooookay, Mauri!" With that he sat back down and looked as she went to the fridge, trying not to feel uncomfortable or guilty or anything of the sort. Once the glass was on the table he sighed contentedly and watched her sit back down. He raised his glass and declared, "Cheers."
"To what?" She raised her own.
"I dunno."
"How about to you?"
"And you."
"To us."
Clink.
America's rejuvenated self kept Mauritius up past midnight, but she was happy.
Hope you liked it, Dirah. Love you and Merry Christmas