IDK man. Trying to keep to a schedule was never something I was great at. Two today I guess bc I'm a loser.
Enjoy!
Day 10: baking holiday treats
"I don't understand."
"I do."
"Fuck off."
"Look, all I'm saying is that sometimes, maybe, France has some good points."
"You say that again and you're officially dead to me."
"Well, if you were trying to cook hockey pucks, then let me know so I can give Canada a call."
"I'd stop talking Scotland."
Scotland snorted, picking up one of the… well, he wasn't really sure what they were supposed to be, but they certainly weren't edible, not even by his standards. Which were admittedly low. He put it down, and turned to England, a pout on his face that made Scotland chuckle.
He pulled the grumbling England into his arms by the waist, catching his eye by brushing their noses together, "Hey, chin up grumpy."
England huffed out an irritated note, turning his head away, "Bugger off Scotland, I'm not in the mood."
Scotland simply pressed a few peppered kisses to his face. "You always fuck up in the kitchen, why does it still get you so down?"
England seemed to concede some of his pride at that, leaning into Scotland's hold, "I don't know, it just gets to me."
They stood like that for a while, in silence, staring at the charred bricks of baked goods, and ignoring the pungent burning odor in their noses.
"Why don't we try together?" Scotland asked after a moment.
"What makes you think that you're any better?"
Scotland chuckled, "I don't, but two is better than one, right?"
England hummed, turning back to him, "I suppose," he said, leaning up to press their lips together in a few quick kisses. "Okay, we can give it a go."
By the end of the day, the two of them had managed to cook something that could be considered edible, good even. (It helped that Scotland had noticed England was using the Fahrenheit temperature from the recipe on a Celsius oven. Trying to bake a cake at 350 degrees rarely ended well).