"Matt what the hell is this?"
Matthew didn't bother to turn around when he answered his friend, focusing on preparing his own meal.
"It's poutine, Gil."
The Prussian man eyed the odd concoction that his friend had set in front of him distastefully, as if it were something he'd found stuck to the bottom of his shoe instead of food.
"It's what now?"
Matthew sighed as he carried his own plate to the table, sitting across from Gilbert.
"Poutine." He repeated, "As in fries and gravy and cheese. I don't know what you're so worried about."
"Because I wanted awesome pancakes, not unawesome…whatever the fuck this is."
The blonde man rolled his eyes, spearing a fry with his fork.
"It's food, Gilbert, just eat it."
Gilbert huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.
"I don't want to, it's unawesome and I want pancakes."
Matthew suppressed a laugh at how childish his best friend looked.
"Gil I was right in the middle-"
"Pancakes."
"Of making something else and-"
"Pancakes."
"I wasn't about to get everything out for pancakes just because-"
"Pancakes, Mattie, I want them."
"You demanded them." Matthew finished, mock-glaring at the other man.
"But Mattie, you wouldn't want me going to into withdrawal because I didn't get my pancake fix would you? If you did I'd have to stop gracing you with my awesome presence."
"Oh how would I ever go on?"
Gilbert stuck his tongue out at him, "That sarcasm just dropped your awesomeness points by a hundred, Matt. You're at like negative a thousand now."
"Where are my sunglasses, your logic is blinding me."
"…You're such a bitch, Birdie."
Matthew heaved another sigh, resisting the urge to face palm.
"Look, Gil, just try it okay? If you don't like it you don't have to finish, and then I'll make you some pancakes. Fair?"
Gilbert brightened at the mention of pancakes.
"You promise, Mattie, do you swear on Kumajirou's head?" he asked with all seriousness.
A distinctive 'Who?' sounded from somewhere else in the house.
"Yes Gilbert, now eat the poutine and I'll make pancakes."
The white-haired man narrowed eyes at him, obviously searching for any traces of a lie, but finally directed his gaze to the food in front of him. With a look on his face like he was being sent to his death instead of having to eat something he picked up his fork and dug it into the mess of fries, gravy and cheese with a distinctive squelching noise. Was food supposed to sound like that?
He paused as he brought the loaded fork to his mouth, looking to Matthew for any signs that this whole thing was a joke and that any minute now Matt was going to be making him delicious pancakes instead of forcing him to eat poutine- but there was nothing. Gilbert submitted himself to his fate.
Scrunching his nose in distaste he hurriedly chewed and swallowed, smacking his lips at the aftertaste.
"So? How was it?" Matthew queried, starting on his own meal.
"S'not half bad…I guess. Not as awesome as pancakes, though."
"Good, now eat the rest of it."
"What?"
"You heard me, Gil. Eat the rest of the poutine."
"But you said you'd make me pancakes!"
"I said I'd make you pancakes if you didn't like it. You do, so finish it. I don't want to waste all that food. If you're still hungry when you're done I'll make pancakes."
Gilbert glared at the Canadian man.
"You're evil."
"Thanks Gil, I try."
Now for a complete 180. This is mostly just dialogue practice and silliness. Everybody I know has had a similar reaction when served poutine for the first time, but I could live off it myself.
Reviews and CC are greatly appreciated~