Kink meme deanon, again. =w=; Prompt was 'I love you, but I hate your food'.

Finno-Ugric cuisine is really hit or miss on whether or not someone likes it. All the dishes contained in this may not be normal Estonian staple cuisine (except sült, sült definitely is) so keep that in mind. I'd like to say also I'm not trying to offend anyone of Estonian heritage, every culture has food not everyone is crazy about! (I'm French and even can't... stand so much. The thought of pâté and mousseline make me sick xD)

Anyhow.. enjoy~

The first time, he thought it was just a mistake.

Estonia had told him to help himself to some beans that were on the table. They looked innocent enough, in a small bowl, just a little treat set out to help stave away hunger. The Estonian was too busy hunched over his computer, trying to fix something that sounded rather complicated, that he in no way could leave sitting out until they got back from their date. It was just a simple date to a coffee shop, but the Netherlands figured why not, he was sort of hungry, and it'd save him from spending a lot of money on overpriced sweets.

He took a small handful of the dried beans. trying it all at once.

That was a mistake. They were possibly the saltiest things he'd ever tasted in his life, with the slightest tinge of vinegar that just seemed to accentuate the salt even more. He was stuck there, awkwardly trying to chew and swallow them down, the hair on the back of his neck sticking up in his disgust even.
If it was anywhere else, he would have just spit them back out, but he didn't think that Estonia would appreciate that very much. He grimaced as he finally managed to swallow them down, just as Estonia looked back up at him.

The Baltic nation beamed.

"Good, aren't they?"

Maybe he'd oversalted them on accident, the Netherlands figured. He gave his boyfriend the strangest look, trying to decide whether or not he should agree or fess up that no way in fucking hell would he try that again.

"Uhh... ...Salty."

"Yeah." He nodded, turning back to his laptop. "Soolaoad. Salted beans. One of my favorites."

The Netherlands adored hearing him speak in Estonian, it was such a lyrical and flowing language. It almost took attention away from him having said oversalted beans were one of his favorites.

The second time, it must have just been a misunderstanding.

Estonia had invited him over again, promising to feed him a good meal. The way to any man's heart was through his stomach, and he had forgotten all about the soolaoad.

When he arrived, Estonia had taken his coat and hugged him. He never would have guessed the Estonian to be an affectionate one, but when they were alone, he rather liked skin to skin contact. Ushering the Netherlands in, he took him in to the dining room, showing him to his seat.

"What would you like to drink?"

"Water's fine."

"Just stay here."

He returned with the water quickly, along with a plate with a small bowl in the corner of it. The Netherlands looked at it with scrutiny as he set it down, but it didn't seem anything too out of the ordinary. It looked like rolled up thin slices of some type of fish, salmon if he'd have to guess from the pink look. In the bowl was a small amount of some yellow sauce, and he watched as Estonia set the plate between them and scooted his seat up close to him.

"So what's this?"

"Soolatud lõhe-well, graavilõhe-with sinepikaste."

"...English?"

"Salmon and mustard."

He liked mustard, he really did. Salmon seemed like an... interesting choice for it though, but he decided, if this was the type of things Estonia ate, he'd try it too.

The Estonian picked up one of the rolled slices, dipping the end delicately into the mustard sauce. He lifted it to the Netherlands' lips, a small and playful smile on his lips, and the Netherlands' figured he'd indulge him. He leaned in and ate the small piece against his lips, nipping just gently at Estonia's thumb. Estonia drew his hand away quickly, grinning and quickly sucking on the tip of his thumb.

"I'll go get the soup ready." He grabbed a piece of the fish as he got up, leaving the Netherlands to his own devices.

The fish was... He couldn't even taste fish. His expression turned rather disturbed when once again, all he could taste was salt. It wasn't just salty like the beans, it was beyond salty, a completely ruined good piece of fish, and he could taste even more vinegar with the 'mustard'.

He really, really wanted to spit it out.

Estonia just must have had... dull tastebuds when it came to salt. That had to be the explanation. But soup of all things, soup couldn't be salty.

When the Baltic boy brought it out and sat the two soup bowls down, the Netherlands just raised both eyebrows. It looked... Like milk.

"Um..."

The Estonian looked right at him, giving that tourist friendly smile.

"...Is this... ...milk?"

"Milk soup."

"Do I... do I drink it?"

Estonia raised an eyebrow, looking back down at the two bowls.

"Well, it's soup, so..."

"...Do I drink it?"

The Netherlands watched as the other scrunched up his nose. He was still giving a strange smile, and he knew that this was the look that meant he was biting back his tongue from making unnecessary comments.

Good call.

He picked up his spoon slowly, looking down to it, making sure the Netherlands noticed, before sticking it in to his soup. The Netherlands coughed, just enough to clear his throat, taking his own spoon and dipping it in to the soup.

There was something... at the bottom of it.

When he pulled his spoon back out, it was clearer that there were little white lumps.

Estonia was already eating his own soup, while the Netherlands wondered if it was actually supposed to have little bits of... whatever in it. He took the spoon, trying the soup carefully, an unamused look on his face as he began to realize what the 'little bits of whatever' were.

Rice.

Rice in... milk. And he called this a soup?

The other was just eating away at his bowl happily though, starting to ramble off something about the euro and something about the borders on the coin, but the Netherlands really couldn't get over the fact he seemed to call milk with rice dumped into it soup. It seemed like a little child trying to experiment with cooking to him, and he begrudgingly continued to make sips at the corner of his spoon.

Instead of eating, he tried to change the conversation to a way where he wouldn't have to eat. He complimented Estonia's economy, trying to flatter him so he wouldn't notice that his food wasn't being touched. Estonia just smiled, eating his own milk soup concoction, loving the compliments for once.

"You know, it means such a lot coming from you... Considering your own economic stances, that you believe I do well."

"Of course you do. You impress me all the time."

"If you think that's impressive though, perhaps you should wait for the main course?"

"...Sounds... good."

He pushed his bowl ahead of himself, prompting Estonia to stand up and take the other man's bowl along with his own. He leaned over to give the Dutchman a chaste kiss, and he pulled away only when he could tell the other was about to smile.

"You always impress me."

"I'll try not to let you down." The Estonian teased, kissing him quickly again before heading off to the kitchen to take care of the dishes and prepare the next dish.

It really was exactly what the Netherlands had been looking for. In these days, not many nations were particularly domestic due to the nature of their jobs. Not that Estonia was domestic, but he took obvious joy in cooking and making sure the Netherlands was okay, nitpicking and always straightening his tie before meetings and the like.

He tried to play it off as being annoyed by it all the time, but in this day and age, it was exactly what he wanted. The Estonian was also so smart, he could hold a conversation about economic growth in Asia as easily as he could talk about his true love of Wi-Fi.

The Netherlands felt lucky to have him.

If only the other could cook.

When Estonia returned, he placed two plates down, and the Netherlands really couldn't figure out what the stuff was. It was in some strange molded shape, a grayish-brown blob with random shreds of what looked like meat inside of it.

Alongside of it was what he could safely guess as horseradish and mustard.

After setting the dishes down he returned to the kitchen and brought back some black rye bread, setting it down between them before taking his own seat again.

"Jätku lieba."

"...Um, Estonia.."

It looked like it was alive. The Dutchman picked up a fork, quickly hazarding a poke to the offensive looking meat.

"It's sült. A dish very dear to me." He noted, cutting in to some of the meat with his own fork before dipping it in the mustard.

The Netherlands was mildly disturbed. He was never usually made to eat the other's own national cuisine, whenever they met, they usually went out together. He also knew the other was capable of making perfectly normal things, he'd cooked breakfast for them before in the Netherlands' home, but this trend of mustard and salt wasn't very appealing.

"...What's in it?"

"Pig's feet, some of the loin as well... Veal shanks, carrots, onion, allspice... Things like that. It's jellied meat."

It's jellied meat. So casual, like he ate the stuff every day, and wasn't daunted at all by the fact that it was meat and it was encased by gelatin.

Sure, he sometimes had tried the German-made sülze, meat with sparse gelatin between it connecting them, but those had been formed in to loaves and were sliced on sandwiches. You could hardly tell it was jellied meat, but this, it seemed off in it's ratio.

"You... eat this often?"

"Special occasions." He murmured, looking up to the Netherlands with a telling smile.

The Netherlands just couldn't leave him hanging from that. He cut in to the jellied meat, carefully dipping a small piece of it lightly in to the horseradish. The Estonian found him coming over to be a special occasion... It was beyond flattering.

Yet when he tried the sült, he just really couldn't get over the texture. The meat had broken down, courtesy of being boiled he assumed, and then the gelatin just washed over his mouth to a point where he couldn't get past it.

The Estonian noticed, although he tried to not bring up his curiosity, but it seemed like the rest of the meat, the Netherlands seemed much more interested in the bread than anything else.

The third time, he was still cautious, but not as forgiving.

There was a joint endeavor between Benelux and the Baltic states, the perfect excuse to hang around him twenty-four seven. They were walking together in the streets of Tallinn when Estonia ducked in to a shop, coming back out with two bottles of soda and a candy bar.

With giant yellow serif letters 'hematogeen' was written across it, and Estonia just smiled at him when he was ripping the paper.

"It's fudge. Would you like a piece?"

The Netherlands shrugged, taking the piece that Estonia broke off for him.

When he tried it, he furrowed his brow, the taste of metal coming over his tastebuds.

Turning his head, he spit it out on to the ground, causing the Estonian to quickly take a few steps back.

"N-Netherlands?"

"What else is in that thing?"

"...It's just a hematogeen bar! It's chocolate and blood-"

"Blood?"

"...I'm... Sorry... Did you not like it?"

"What do you think?"

The Estonian just laughed lightly, patting his shoulder and beckoning them forward on their walk.

The fourth time, he was determined to show that he wasn't alone. He asked Estonia if he could bring along Luxembourg and Belgium for dinner, and the Baltic boy was at first a bit flustered. He informed the Netherlands that it was short notice, but he'd do his best.

Belgium had offered to help in the kitchen, but Estonia politely refused. While he was getting things ready, the Netherlands sat at the table sipping something Estonia called wine that tasted more like molded grape juice.

"It's really cute, brother! You must really like him, right? To have us come meet him personally..."

Belgium was the first to speak up in a hushed voice, smiling and glad for her brother's happiness.

"Oh, I like him, but his food sucks."

"...What?"

The Luxembourgish man raised an eyebrow, suddenly as confused as his sister.

"Yeah, well, don't make him feel bad or anything, but I just want to know that it's not just me. If he's going to serve milk soup or something, don't make any bad comments to him."

"Brother! How could you say that you like him when you're insulting him?" The Belgian pouted, sitting back in her seat. She gave the elder brother a very disappointed look, aghast at what he was saying. "I'm sure his food is just fine! You were just too spoiled by Indonesia!"

"...That is very messed up, brudder. To say you're experiencing amour and to-"

"I swear to God if you two start speaking French to each other, I'll kick both of your asses."

The two younger siblings quickly silenced themselves, until their host returned.

"For an appetizer, I just made this kanamaksapasteet, a pâté of chicken liver with some cognac in it."

He sat the dish down before them, and the Netherlands got a bad feeling. It was as if he was playing in to the Francophone side of his siblings, gussying them up with fancy French things, and now he just felt embarrassed.

"Do you eat this stuff often?"

Luxembourg and Belgium both gladly grabbed a little triangle of toast that the pâté was spread on.

"All the time. It's a very old recipe I have around, and it's best enjoyed with good friends, I've found."

"It's delicious!" Belgium immediately piqued, savoring the taste. "It reminds me something Francis showed me how to cook! Is that allspice in it, Estonie?"

"Yes, it is in fact, and thank you, I appreciate that very much, but I'm surely not as good a cook as Francis." He brushed the compliment aside, scooting his chair closer to the Netherlands. Resting one hand on his boyfriend's knee, his other quickly went for his own piece.

The Netherlands was stuck having to eat a piece, considering the other two were just going giddy over it.

The first course finished smoothly, and as Estonia gathered the platter he requested the Netherlands to come help him with the soup. He obliged, standing up and following him.

Once they were in the kitchen, the Netherlands was actually rather impressed with how clean it was, considering the constant cooking volume coming out of it. If there was one thing he hated, it was messes, and Estonia passed his exam well.

However, the contents of a pot sitting out on the counter disturbed him.

"I just finished reheating that, so it should be fine now."

He fetched four bowls down from the cabinets, while the Netherlands leaned over the pot. When he sniffed, he could have sworn he smelled something sour...

"Reheating it?"

"Well, you never serve a soup on the first day! That's not long enough for the flavors to mix... I was going to have it tomorrow, so it might not be perfect, but-"

"Got it."

Estonia smiled warmly at him, setting the bowls down on the counter. He grabbed a ladle and stuck it in to the pot, stirring and mixing everything up.

The Netherlands stood behind him, watching over it. He was glad that the Estonian wasn't nearly as short as some of the people he'd dated before—being over two meters tall often had a disadvantage when it came to mates. Estonia was just tall enough that he could rest his chin against the top of his head, even having to tilt it upwards a bit to do so.

"What's in it?"

Estonia wriggled a bit as he felt arms wrap around his waist, but he began to dish out portions of the soup anyways.

"It's hapukapsasupp... It has pork, onion, apple, sauerkraut, carrots, lemon jui-"

"Sauerkraut?"

No wonder it had smelled sour.

"In... a soup?"

"Naturally. It's very nice with the pork."

"...Right. Why do you eat so much pork anyways?"

"...Hm. Because... Pigs are easy to raise. They can forage for themselves and they get a good amount of meat on them..."

"You raise pigs?"

"No! Not anymore, at least." When he finished the last bowl, he dropped the ladle back in to the pot. Placing his hands over the Netherlands', he laughed softly while reminiscing. "When I was younger, oh, I hated living in Tallinn so much... I knew we were supposed to, as nations, stay by our hearts, but also at that time, I was caught between either staying in south Estonia or living in Sweden... I suppose I am more of a southern Estonian boy at heart. Most people in the northern parts don't make all these dishes all that much anymore, I guess..."

"So you... used to raise pigs?"

"And sheep... I also had a good little farm myself."

Farming was something the Netherlands could relate with. He moved his head, nuzzling against the side of the other man's face before Estonia turned his own. The Estonian leaned up, hardly, to kiss the other quickly.

"It's only really changed in the fact I didn't have to kill my own pigs to cook dinner tonight, but, you know."

He really didn't know, but he didn't want to particularly ask either. Estonia let go of his hands and took two of the bowls as the Netherlands took the other two.

This time his siblings didn't really have much to say about the sauerkraut soup. Luxembourg remarked on how interesting it was, and really, the Netherlands could have just hit him right there. He should have remembered that his little brother was in to everything and anything cultural to everyone.

But now, as he picked through pieces of the pork in his own soup, trying not to gag at the sour taste that lingered against the meat, all he could think of was Estonia killing his own animals.

After the soup course was through, the Estonian once again gathered the dishes. He returned back to the kitchen alone, this time assuring the Netherlands he could stay put.

"You know, when you told us his stuff was weird, really, I was expecting a lot worse."

Luxembourg spoke up, and Belgium nodded in agreement.

"That pâté was really good, brother..."

"Okay, I'm sorry I don't eat mashed up chicken liver."

"But it was good! Didn't you think so?"

"Not at all, België."

"You're really just too difficult to please. That poor boy, having to put up with you..."

"I have to agree with her, sorry."

The Netherlands rolled his eyes, turning back to look toward the entrance of the kitchen. Estonia returned with another platter, placing it down on the table.

It was actually the one time the Netherlands found himself impressed at the food. It was long, dark strips of smoked meat, with wedges of lemon sliced and placed around the rim.

"Smoked eel! Brother, isn't this one of your favorites?"

He glared at the Belgian.

"Oh, it is? I had no idea, Netherlands, I just thought that you probably eat a lot of seafood and I couldn't get any räim-"

"It looks wonderful, Estonia."

At his boyfriend's compliment, he suddenly appeared rather sheepish. "Ah, t-thank you. Hold on, I have some potatoes as well to go with it..."

The potatoes he brought back and sat down along with some plates looked rather safe too—just baked, along with dill and sour cream. The Netherlands again felt rather embarrassed, but one good dish out of all the other odd thing he had tried didn't exactly change his mind.

Estonia sat back down beside him, encouraging him to take a piece and try it. It was already cut up in to smaller strips, and he took plenty for himself. When he tried it, it was just as he expected smoked eel to be, absolutely delectable.

"I put sugar on the firewood, you know. To smoke it." Estonia smiled at him, glad to see his boyfriend suddenly have an appetite again. "It helps it caramelize so well."

The Netherlands nodded as he listened, trying some of the potato as well—again with the sour cream, he noticed, and there was a bit much salt for him, but the eel was delicious—but he was really so close to trying to figure out how he could bargain with Estonia to only cook eel from now on.

"Very good. It could belong right in my home."

"Or maybe you should just have two homes, hm?"

He didn't even want to look up at Belgium or Luxembourg once Estonia said that, because he was certain his face tinged a bit red at the comment. He looked at his boyfriend, smirking slightly.

"I can tell what you're trying to do, you know."

"You really can't. I don't even know what I'm doing yet." Estonia chirped, eating away at his own eel. He looked over to the siblings, smiling playfully. "Is he always serving his own ego like that?"

"Yep! He wouldn't be Dutch if he didn't, now would he?"

Belgium spoke up quickly, looking at the Netherlands with a giggle.

He tried to kick her under the table, but when the youngest of the three gave a low hiss, and scooted his chair back, it was clear the Dutchman's goal wasn't exactly met.

"Hey, hey, be nice! You should be thankful for your siblings, not roughhouse with them."

Estonia spoke up, nudging his elbow, trying to get the other to calm down a bit.

"She started it."

"Just be a good kid or no dessert then, how about that?"

It got him to quiet down, continuing on with his meal.

When everyone was done, the last thing, the dessert, was a raspberry rum cake, and honestly the Netherlands couldn't complain about that either. He much preferred the sweet things, they were always nice and safe—as long as there wasn't any blood lurking in them.

Full and tired after the meal, the Netherlands watched appreciatively as the Estonian gathered up the dishes again.

"I'll come help you wash them in a second, okay?"

"Sounds good to me." Estonia responded, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. He was a bit embarrassed, considering his sibling's were watching, but the Estonian didn't think twice about it. "Should I brew some coffee for you two?"

"Oh, no, you don't have to go through the trouble... Thank you very much for everything, though!"

"I'd have to agree with my sister... Thank you, Estland, really, everything was wonderful."

Luxembourg reached across the table, grabbing the top of Estonia's hand.

"And when that ruffian does something to lose your attention, keep in mind I'd never object to the fine cooking of someone as handsome as yourself."

He winked, and Estonia just laughed it off as the Netherlands forced his brother's hand away.

"That would never happen. His attention's right on me, always."

"As long as I never try to serve you rabbit, right?" Estonia teased, knowing full well it was just one of the meats that the Netherlands would never touch. Even at the mention of it, he wrinkled his nose, unamused at the little joke. "Ah, but of course, I'd have to agree, I'd say I'm quite happily taken."

"Tch. You're too good for him."

"...Please don't kill each other while I'm in the kitchen, okay? You western Europeans worry me when you talk like that." He remarked, still smiling as he pulled away from the Dutchman. He took the plates and headed back in to the kitchen.

Belgium just scoffed, crossing her arms as she stared over at her eldest brother.

"You said his food was terrible and then you eat up everything all night. You should be ashamed."

"...The eel was okay, but-"

"I liked all of it."

"Shut it, Lux."

"Fine, fine, but if you really don't like it, maybe you should just tell him."

"Maybe."

When they were staying at the Netherlands' home together, most of it was just eating out.

The Netherlands wasn't really one much for cooking, at all, but there were simple and yet delicious things he found he could still do. He made sure one night to prepare a roast with some hutspot for the Estonian, to show off his own almost national dish.

It seemed well received, but the truth came out later.

They both retired to his bedroom for the night, even if the Estonian seemed a little skittish about something. The Netherlands was already in bed, a book open in his lap, when he realized how nervous the other seemed as he was pulling on his pajamas.

"Something wrong?"

"I just..." Estonia looked back at him, heading to the bed. He sat down, crawling under the covers as he looked up at the Dutchman. The Netherlands closed his book and rose an eyebrow. "I just... have something to tell you."

"...Yeah? Go on..."

Estonia turned toward him, wrapping both arms around his neck. He leaned in and kissed the blonde, a nervous smile on his lips.

"What is it?..."

"I... ...I love you."

The Netherlands' eyes widened, before his gaze quickly softened. It was the first time the word love had ever been thrown around between the two of them, and, a part of him had just been waiting for this day. He was about to respond when the Baltic spoke up again, anxious and quick.

"But I kind of.. really hate your cuisine, I mean, it's not that it's bad, but it's just not really my thing-"

"...Shh."

Estonia obeyed, looking away from the other.

"I mean..." He gained the Estonian's attention again through a slow and leisurely kiss. When he pulled away, he decided to explain himself a bit further. "...Me too."

"...You... too?"

"I love you too... but I hate your food."