Hetalia: Lunch in France

Going to a foreign restaurant in a foreign country can be hard for some people, especially the Allied Forces. This just causes them to think that maybe they are very different after all.

For some odd reason, France invited Britain, China, and America to come over to his place for a five-star lunch at a fancy cafe. It was a short-notice invitation and the only person missing from this group of Allied Forces was Russia, but France didn't invite him…probably because Russia gave him the 'heebie-jeebies' as America said.

Britain, China, and America met up in front of the elegant cafe. It was a bright sunny day, but the cool breeze in the air made the sun tolerable, and so the three wore casual suits…Britain's was a little 'tacky' for an outing in France, though.

America was adjusting his tie and scratching himself out of discomfort. Growing up, suits were his least favorite apparel, but his Big Brother had insisted upon it. He vowed only to wear them on special occasions, but now he was strongly encouraged to wear one again.

"How on earth did you guys manage to drag me here of all places," Britain was upset that he had to show his face at France's home. He really despised that guy and wanted to avoid him like the Bubonic Plague.

China smiled. "Well, I want try French food. It said to be best!"

"Yeah, dudes!" America seemed to have adjusted to his suit jacket now because he looked happy again. "I love the French fries and French toast!"

"You, twit!" Britain plucked his former charge's forehead. "Those are just foods you made up!"

America laughed in his annoying way and agreed. "Oh, yeah! That's why I like it! But anyhow, France does have good food! Can't wait to eat some." His mouth was salivating at the thought.

Britain planted his feet to the ground. "I…just can't bring myself to have it. You guys go ahead without me…I'm too worried that that Frog will try to poison my food, or what-have-you."

"You too paranoid!" China patted him on the back with an evil grin. He nodded at America and the two picked Britain up by the shoulders and forced him inside.

Britain felt like they were dragging him to the guillotine and started to weep internally. How could his Little America and servant China betray him in such a manor? To France for that matter! There was no way he would willingly oblige himself to France's wishes even if his life depended on it. Nevertheless, he was brought in and shown to a table with the others.

The table was large, but thin, round, but sturdy. It had a pure white table cloth draped over it and the table was set perfectly, including the clear and sparkly wine glasses that waited to be colored red with the finest.

I so worried about making mess, China said to himself, I wonder if others feel same way…He didn't want to appear as a barbarian, or uncivilized, so he didn't voice his concern.

"Rather fancy," Britain said. "Sort of makes me miss home."

"This is great!" America sat down in a chair and patted the table.

"Just don't make a mess on the tablecloth," Britain warned him as he sat down. "It looks expensive." Inside he was saying, please America spill your wine or coffee or whatever the devil you will be eating, heh hehe. He wanted him to make a mess on France's nice decorations.

"Oh, good, you guys worried about mess making, too!" China was relieved and joined them in sitting. He examined the silver wear and saw his reflection entwined. He had to get used to eating with a knife and fork, but chopsticks were simpler for him.

After less than a minute, France walked up to the table. "Bonjour, I will be your waiter today!" He winked at them and he was wearing trim black and white waiter clothes. A rather fashionable waiter he was.

"I-it's you!" Britain stood up. He pointed at France and yelled, "you better not spike my drink, you frog!"

France stared blankly, but then he smiled, knowingly. "Ah, Britain…You drink will already contain alcohol, unless you'd rather drink water…"

"I…I…" Britain sat back down and mumbled something to himself, a little embarrassed at the outburst, but he couldn't help it – just the sight of that man made his blood boil.

France welcomed them to his homeland and gave them menus. "I am so happy you all came, my good friends, and I am confident that your stay will be full of pleasures." He chuckled to himself a little, making Britain want to hurl. "Please, order what you want, because it is my wish to treat you."

"Awesome, my dude, France!" said America. He just took a general picture of the menu, without reading anything. "I'll take a hamburger."

"I'm so sorry," France apologized, "we do not 'av that here. But don't worry, everything on the menu is perfect, so you will be satisfied with whatever you choose."

"…Oh…" America said and took another look at the fancily written letters on the plastic paper. What kind of place doesn't have hamburgers, he was in a bit of a dilemma. Even the 'foreign food' places back home had hamburgers on the list. He wasn't as bland as Britain because he liked to explore with tastes more, but if given the choice, he'd rather stick to his own cuisine. "It's not a big deal, I guess."

China looked at the menu and nodded as if he understood, but he leaned over to whisper a concern, "Pst! Britain…what it say? I do not know what to order."

"Oh," Britain remembered that China was bad at reading and writing in English and so leaned over to look at China's menu. He realized that it was written in French, so he wasn't sure what was listed, either. "Urm…" He didn't want to look like an idiot, but he never took the time or interest to learn this language. Besides that, he wasn't fond of the pretty letters, he wished it was neat and printed simply so it would at least be coherent. He sighed. I should probably just order something simple to say… "Just order whatever you want, China," he forcefully chuckled causing China to be in an even tougher situation.

"Aiya, just say you no know…" China sighed. "I will take recommendations, France."

"Yeah, dude, me too," America said, handing the menu back to France.

"Might as well," Britain placed his menu down out of frustration. "Even if our sense of taste is completely different."

"Ah, I see," France gleamed almost as if he had expected it. He patted Britain on the cheek. "I understand. You see so much good, you don't know what to choose."

Britain slapped him away. "It's enough that I'm here! Refrain from touching me, cheese-freak!"

France was unhurt by the Englishman's words because he was used to the long-time grudge between them. He knew that he didn't really mean it, but his pride wouldn't allow him to admit it. He continued to smile. "I will give all of you the special of the day."

At least it will be fresh…I hope, Britain thought. Or are they trying to get rid of it?

"So, what brand of wine will we be drinking this afternoon?" France asked, very pleased with himself.

"Any kind is cool," said America. Otherwise, he would have ordered coke, but feared it wasn't on the menus. He wasn't a high-class type.

France shook his head at the class-less America and then looked to the others for their preference.

"I'd rather have ale," Britain protested. "Just give me a stout."

"So sorry, we only serve wine." France sneered, "you should go back to that stinky pub if you desire another source of drink." He smiled deviously. "Unless you would prefer water, mon ami."

Britain contained his anger and bit his lip. It took great effort to smile, even though his bushy eyebrows were still tilted in anger. "Alright, then. Give me your best. I don't care what it is." I need a drink to take off the edge.

China also agreed to 'whatever,' because he wasn't a wine-drinker, either. He didn't even drink anything but tea unless he had to make an exception like in this case.

France walked away to begin their order and the three looked around the table at each other.

"Nice place," America finally said. "We should go sight-seeing after this!"

"Yeah, sound fun!" China agreed.

Britain didn't want to stay in this country longer than necessary, though. It was already enough he had to eat French food, he didn't care to take a look around France's country. "Whatever. After the meal, I'm going home to wash out the taste. You two do what you like."

Coming back, France displayed the wine he was about to serve to Britain, who just looked at it a little suspiciously. He sighed. "That looks fine, sure." He waved it away, though.

This isn't even my best, France thought. I wouldn't waste it on him. It's not like he know the difference anyway. All of his food and drinks taste the same. Hohohoho. He released the cork and began to pour, giving the glasses a nice, refreshing drink.

"Awesome!" America was excited. "I'm too young to drink in my own country, so I usually just stick to coke, but this is cool!" France stopped pouring the burgundy-colored wine onto America's glass.

"What, le minor?" He suddenly felt guilty about serving the wine to America, even though something like this normally wouldn't bother him.

"Dude, it's alright! I'm not even in my country!" America said in excitement. "Go ahead!"

"Usually, you need your guardian's consent…but…" He looked over at Britain who was pouting.

"Daddy says it's ok." America tipped the neck of the bottle down to continue the flow into his glass. He laughed and snorted like a lunatic.

"Just don't spoil yourself," Britain warned. "Especially not on this spoiled up beverage."

"You are too cruel, Black Sheep of Europe," France exhaled deeply. "I am going to a lot of trouble to make sure you are satisfied. The least you could do is be polite."

Britain was surprised that France outwardly voiced his feelings to his archrival, but it made him feel bad inside. He actually has feelings…? Maybe he should give him a fair chance instead of coming in with a negative attitude. "Very well, France…I'll be nicer to you for the remainder of my stay…but only a little nicer."

"La YAY!" France kissed Britain once on the cheek and ran off before Britain could land a blow on him.

"That disgusting Frog put his froggy lips on me!" Britain desperately tried to wipe it off using the cloth napkin that was previously in his lap. He was blushing, though, and it was also the source of hysterical laughter from America. China chuckled a little, but he found that Westerners were too strange for his taste, he didn't try to understand them anymore and just 'went with it.'

"That was a low blow," Britain complained. "A cheap shot and a cheat, he is!"

Britain took a cautious sip from his glass and his mouth went dry at the rye taste. This wine was excellent! It surprised him greatly, but he couldn't stop his astonished words from coming out, "my, how delicious!"

America had already downed his and was pouring a new glass with the bottle France left behind. "yeahs, it's greats!" apparently he didn't have much of an alcohol intake, but he was just tipsy enough to let Britain's observation slide by. "Way bettew than carbonation."

China followed their example, but not being a drinking man, wondered why the two were so worked up over it.

It wasn't long before they heard a roll cart and footsteps arriving. France stopped the metal cart right next to the table. On the cart were three platters, covered with silver lids.

"Voila!" he lifted the silver covers to reveal their meals. Everyone was silent, but France thought they were speechless because of the food's beauty.

"…But it's such a small portion," said America in disappointment. He was used to eating a large amount in one sitting.

"Have you no shame, America?" Even though Britain also wished for more, he didn't want to act rude – he was a gentleman after all and had to retain some dignity.

"What's there to be ashamed about?" said the proud multi-star country.

"Relax," France patted America on the head. "There is more than once course."

"Oh, alright, cool, man!" Said America, eyes closed and with a wide smile.

For some reason this fumed Britain up even more and he felt as if his top would blow. "HEY! Stop touching my America!" He blurred out angrily.

France placed his hand on Britain's shoulder and pushed him gently to sit back down. "Relax, Britain, I can touch you, too, if you like."

Britain scooted his chair over enough that France would have to walk to get to him again. He had already promised not to be rude anymore, but the flame didn't need much oxygen to spark.

America licked his lips in anticipation. He peered down at the 1 ½ inch square-shaped food on his plate that had some sort of thin sauce poured over it. It's just like a snack-sized candy, he thought. He plucked it with his fork and lifted it to his mouth. France stood by, waiting for a complement, and Britain was watching America intently as he took the bite.

I'll wait to see his expression before I eat it, he thought. Even a fool had to admit that French wine was tasty, but he was still uncertain of the food quality. He had heard praises and raving about it and how delicious and elegant it tasted, but he never actually thought he would have an opportunity, or put himself in a position, to try it. It can't be that bad, I'm sure, but it won't beat the good 'ol scones and spuds back at my place…America's tastes are sort of similar to mine, being that he grew up eating my cooking, so I'll wait and see…on second thought, America eats anything.

"So sizzling!" America complemented the food.

"I'm glad you like it," France smiled. But it wasn't even prepared on fire…what does he mean?

China was next to try his dish that looked similar to America's. He was unsure whether to cut it with a knife, though, because it was so small, but decided to cut it in half. France seemed to approve of it, he noticed. He put part of the delicacy into his mouth. "WOWZA! Is good!" He quickly ate the next piece and wished he had more. "I could eat like this ev'ry day!" He noticed that Britain was frowning at him and he knew it was because he never complimented his food that he had to be subjected to for a few decades.

Britain let out a sigh, but then noticed that all eyes were on him. Blast it all! Now they will have to see me…I should've snuck a bite in while they were distracted. He picked up the appropriate fork and knife out of the utensil selection and began to use the table manners of a gentleman, which the other two lacked. If his opinion was the most important one, he would make sure that he went about giving it in the proper way. He was not an ill-bred buffoon, even if he was a bastard child. After a bit of polite delay, he placed a bite into his mouth and used a napkin to wipe afterwards. Immediately, he noticed how flavorful the food was and chewed it slowly trying to make it last. Perhaps everything he knew about France was just judgmental hogwash. This was excellent and the service he had received was high-standard (besides for the ignominy of the kiss he had to endure).

France and the other two waited for his comment to be rash, but France had a deep-down wish inside that Britain would enjoy it. But he knew that it was probably a meager wish, being impossible for his rival to humble himself so far.

Finally Britain spoke, "It is a decent meal. Very pleasing to the taste buds, with just enough flavor and texture to leave the guest wanting more, and, if I must say, good all-around."

America's jaw dropped to the table, knocking his silver wear over, while China just stared wide-eyed at the Englishman's remark.

France said, "Oui, I know you find it appalling and disgusting, but…what?" he stopped realizing that Britain had actually given him a compliment. "You…like it?"

"Well," Britain paused. "Yes, I suppose." Even though he really really liked it.

France clasped his hands together tightly and his face was very bright and smiling. "God be praised! Britain has finally come over to my side!" I knew God hadn't abandoned me after all, he thought. I can still be great! Maybe now Britain would accept my marriage registration form. Hhohohoho.

"Don't get the wrong idea, France!" Britain spewed out quickly, "I am not favoring you; I am simply giving my honest opinion. No less, and certainly no more. As a critic and a gentleman, I am bound to my honestly and therefore I cannot be decrepit in my judgment. I am not simply tired of arguing with you, I am just 'keeping it real,' as America would say. So stop flaunting around, chap!"

"But of course," France winked, feeling as if there were deeper meanings to the words his no longer prejudice friend just spoke. Was it his way of apologizing? Certainly, he wanted this feud to end as much as he did.

America and China were still astonished by the polite words Britain had offered and the way he composed himself about it.

AFTERWARDS:

After finishing their meals, America and China went further to sightsee. "It's the EF'in Tower, here we come!" America shouted. He had already bought a t-shirt that said 'Been There, Done That in France.'

"It pronounced 'Eiffel Tower,'" China corrected him while he was looking at a map of Paris and what kind of fun touristy things they could do.

Britain lingered behind and spoke to France, "Listen, France…I…would like to invite you to my home now so you can enjoy my hospitable foods and ale. Won't you except?"

France was completely caught off guard by Britain's invitation to 'come back to his place,' but at the mention of British food and ale, his stomach was starting to feel woozy. He had to think of an excuse without ruining the progress they had made today. "Some other time, mon ami, I'm working a shift and you know how tiresome that can be."

"Fair enough," Britain said, "but then let's make a date. How about one of your days off next week? I know you have one because the French only work two weeks out of a whole year and the rest of the time they're on strike. So…let's mark it on your calendar…or can you still not afford one?" He had sort of a smug grin on his face, knowing that France was just trying to wiggle out like he himself had originally tried to do this day.

"You've got me," France admitted. "Alright, I 'ave no choice. Let's make it a date. Afterwards, we can go someplace quiet and tell each other secrets that no one else should hear…just you and moi."

Britain all of a sudden had tightness in his gut and he felt faint at the thought of having a filthy, smelly, cheese-eating, drunk Frenchman over at his place. "On second thought, Frog, forget it!" he yelled. "I hate you and your stupid good food! Goodbye!" He turned and left quickly so he wouldn't have to face France again.

"Au Revoir!" France waved with a handkerchief.

THE END