This chapter is thanks to AztecApril, I'm sorry it took so long to write and thank you for your suggestions. You have no idea how helpful it is during a creative block and when I'm busy adulting. Also I believe in England's song he states he can cook, he just pretends that he can't.

Short but sweet


"Tellement délicieux, if only you could cook this well Angleterre" France sighed happily, most of the nations of the world had a talent for cooking. As did England, though he lacked the finesse that all other nations had. His cooking wasn't fancy or delicate, it was hearty and rich. He knew cooking was a sensitive subject for the Brit, he was insulted about it nearly every chance someone had. Reminded of his failure and lack of talent in comparison to his own. At least when he said it he meant it out of love rather than genuine spite. Seeing that flicker of anger in England's eyes made it worth it every time, knowing he would always take the bait. England had always been stubborn, it was part of his charm and why Francis loved him so much. But then when he was mad it either made him cute or annoying.

England growled impatiently "It's a bloody buffet frog! It's mass produced rubbish, even America can't taste the difference!". He was sick of France bringing this up, he was sick of everyone bringing it up. Whenever it was his turn to host the world meeting, everyone acted like it was a chore, like it was going to be miserable. He spent hours going over the menu, finding the best quality menu for the other nations, making sure everything was perfect with no complaints. And yet everyone had to poke fun at him about it. It just hurt coming from his husband of all people, he never grew out of teasing him to his partners expense. It wasn't hard to pick a buffet, it was the easiest card in the book, at least when it came to America. He chose the same food every time and had other nations checking their waistline afterwards.

"Hey!" America whined from the background, why did everyone assume his food or cooking was bad? Didn't England cook worse than him? Why was he the one being made fun of?

"He's got a point Al" Canada agreed, he'd tasted England's cooking on his better days, his scones, his baking, sometimes even his stews. His food was hearty, working mans food. Pastries, pies, cakes and more, he had a lot to offer and despite being a small nation, all his different parts had traditions. It was like home comfort food, something that welcomed you when you entered the front door, warming you inside. America had no right to judge when he was always eating junk food.

"Way to take his side!" America huffed, he hated how Canada could be such a goodie goodie and always the favourite child. In their eyes he could do no wrong which was easy. The golden child who always earned the adoration and praise in comparison to himself.

"More like you're a posh twat who can only enjoy food if it's bloody extortionate" England huffed, France was always off to bistro's, cafes and drinking lavish wines. For all France had some delicious cooking, he loved to remind people of its quality and how much effort it took to make. Sometimes he wondered where the income of money came from, sometimes he thought it best not to ask. Though he himself lived in the nicer part of London, even he had known hard times. He remembered his childhood poverty and the living crisis his people were facing. He loved Francis, but sometimes his snobby behaviour could be frustrating, especially to other nations who weren't as well off financially and politically.

"Why not enjoy the finer things in life Angleterre, but then your palate was never this exceptional" France teased. Life was short, but then in their case being immortal they had lived longer than the average human. The world had many delicious foods in it that needed to be enjoyed, he was merely more open about it. Why England insisted on doing so in moderation was a mystery to him. He loved cooking for England, treating him and allowing him to enjoy a lavish life. Though England referred to him as a sugar daddy when he did so. All he wanted was to spoil his lover, to remind him of wonderful relationship he could have with food. England shot him a bitter expression while he stormed ahead, France following him.

"I'm scared, England has a frightening expression, he's not going to curse us and poison our food is he?" Italy whimpered. He knew England had a scary temper, his history as a pirate and a punk, how he bullied so many nations in the past. He didn't know what France had said to him to upset him so much but it had left England in a bad mood and they needed to make up soon. He knew the two loved each other very much and sometimes people argued. But France and England often argued to extreme levels and it took them a while to make up. He knew England practiced magic, sometimes dabbling in black magic, he would rather not be on the receiving end of his curse.

"Its a mere disagreement, it's normal for them. Just leave them be to settle it amongst themselves" Germany sighed, he was already aware they were married. Married couples had disputes all the time, but given they were both passionate men, it was more intense than most. Unless they became a harm to themselves and others it was not his business, but he hoped they came to an agreement and England had a healthy relationship, but even they were capable of saying hurtful things to each other and going too far. This was none of their business and they could sort it out themselves. Putting their nose into it would just make matters worse.

"Aw c'mon bros, it's not cool to fight" Prussia sighed, why couldn't they all just get a drink and have fun together? World meetings didn't happen often and he wanted to see some of his friends. Why was everyone so miserable and serious today? It was boring.

"They'll make up soon enough, they always do" Canada hummed, he had seen France and England argue since he was young. But France loved England, they were childhood sweethearts. They just knew how to press one another's buttons too often. France often got too boastful and narcissistic which brought out his worst side. But he always realised his mistakes and apologised to England, understanding he went too far. England was stubborn and often tended to sulk when he was upset, meaning he needed time to cool off. But they always made up.

"Mi Amigo, maybe you could save this for when you get back to your room?" Spain suggested, he knew that when passion ran deep, sometimes it brought out the worst in each other, but amongst the other nations wasn't the best place to argue. They were drawing attention to one another. Perhaps they could discuss this in private where everyone wouldn't be able to observe.

"Yeah Bro's, why argue among friends? Let's just go get some beers" Prussia agreed

"I don't know why you defend that pervert so much, dio dannazione, being friends doesn't mean you defend everything they do" Lovino huffed. France had always been a bad influence on Spain, though he had distanced himself in later years he still had the bad habit of agreeing with him on occasion. Now that he had formed a friendship with England, he could see that France was often unnecessarily cruel to him. But everyone ignored it, due to their friendship with France or just being nosy. England could see the better personality of France, his positive traits and the kinder side within. The way they both protected each other and remained loyal after all these years. But it was often hidden under the tension and negative moments like these.

"Lovi... why so mean?" Spain whimpered

"I think perhaps we best excuse ourselves to our rooms, perhaps the bar. This is a private matter and we do well to stay out of it" Germany suggested. A beer after a long meeting sounded good, being able to reminisce with friends before retiring to their room and enjoying their evenings. He would check in with France and England later but right now this needed to be fixed between themselves. This was nothing to do with them.

"I'll join you for that drink eh" Canada agreed, following after Germany, he was friends and allies with a few other nations, whom had hadn't seen in a while. It would be nice to catch up and forget about the meetings. He hadn't been able to relax in a while, back home he was often coping with the intense winters and farming. Now he could let his hair down for a while. But he was also stuck babysitting Al.

"I'm still mad at you" America huffed, following after his brother


England and France stood beside one another in the lift, the music playing softly in the background as the silence became piercing. Everyone had noticed them fighting, I mean with how loud they were how could you not? They felt embarrassed and ashamed for being so obnoxious in public. They had been rivals long before marriage and even now their tension still flared up on occasion. Often blind to their mistakes, actions and how it reflected themselves around others. Now they were alone, things had settled and the discomfort followed. They couldn't leave things like this and they knew it. It would just get worse. People would ask questions, assume the worst and pester them for details, picking a side. England loosened his tie sighing heavily, holding his coat under his arm and staring into the distance, he was exhausted, he was ready for bed and he needed food. His head ached from focusing on taking notes all day and public speaking. This went on for hours and got very intense. Sometimes his frustrations built up and he vented onto Francis which wasn't fair. France untied his hair from its ponytail, sighing in relief as his head ached from being up all day, his long waves tumbling onto his shoulders. He had been childish and he knew it, he could see the hurt in England's eyes. Today had been exhausting for them both and they ended up taking it out on each other. The two of them growled lowly under their breaths, finally able to relax and alleviate the accumulated stress. Now that they were alone they could truly speak to one another.

"Désolé, that was cruel of me Angleterre, I know you've been taking cooking classes to improve. I know you have a skill in the kitchen and anxiety doesn't help matters. Your cooking can be rather wonderful when you put the effort in" France hummed. He had taken a low blow and made jabs at something that England was self conscious about, he was better than this. He had seen and heard England crying before when people made fun of him about it, tears of genuine hurt and frustration. England taking classes not only helped improve his focus but also his anxiety, allowing him to cook in public and around other people. He had tasted England's cooking in private, finding himself nearly crying in delight from the taste.

"As much as you boast about your pastries, I know how much you love it when I make a crumble" England chuckled, he remembered the first time he made one for France and how his eyes lit up. Like a small child being presented with something new and unusual. France had never told a soul about England's secret talent for cooking, allowing the world to think he was terrible. The only other people to know where Scotland and Canada. America was so terrified of England's cooking that he had refused to eat any since becoming independent.

"It's oddly charming" France agreed, England had a wonderful garden full of plants and flowers, recipes he made from his own garden. Always so fresh and home grown. He wished others knew of how much effort he put into his dishes, all the love he poured in. Even back home when eating a Mille feuille, he found himself reflecting on his husbands homemade baking. Their cultures were so vastly different but the love they put into preparation was equally as strong.

"I do wish America had better taste, with both of our influence how did his cooking become so bad?" England reflected, even Scotland was terrified of his cooking at times. His country had so much to offer in the accumulated cultures of his people. Yet he was rarely seen eating anything other than burgers. He had no right to judge others cooking when he was always eating the worst kind. Sometimes he wished America would open his eyes and realise how much more the world had to offer.

"At least Matthew turned out better" France agreed wearily, Canada had made some wonderful allies through history including England especially during the war. His cooking was very splendid, though he never boasted about it. He was bilingual, he loved farming, he had an enthusiastic love for Hockey and had a huge heart. Both of them adored Canada and were so proud of him. He enjoyed cooking as much as them, influenced by both of them while creating his own culture and history. England always enjoyed his visits and was proud of the young man he turned out to be, while Francis always became a blubbering mess and sobbing about how proud he was.

"Do you think we worried anyone? Germany was happy enough to mind his own business, but a few people seemed concerned" England reflected. He didn't want America to think they were fighting, Canada was responsible enough to understand. Italy had become upset and Germany seemed concerned. They didn't owe them an explanation but they had been rather they would become curious and ask questions later, ones he would rather not answer.

"Everyone loves drama Angleterre, it's hard to ignore, observing something so personal and being unable to avoid it. It's about self control and respect of privacy" France sighed. It was nobody's business but their own, a domestic dispute between them both which hadn't been pretty but at least they coped. Sometimes they had bad days and sometimes they had good days. They were aware they were both in the wrong and attempted to apologise to the other, taking responsibility for their actions. But observers had the option to ignore, respect their privacy or become involved.

"Stop being so bloody mature, we all know how childish you are" England scoffed, but he was smiling, France acted like a know it all and charmed people over. But he knew what a brat he could be, how he was a masochist and how he loved to wind people up. But what people didn't know is that France used tears to get his way and often just needed putting in his place. Punished for being bad. Though Francis could be mature and responsible, he was more often childish and fun loving.

"I'm not called big brother for nothing" France smirked, but he eventually softened. "I shouldn't have baited you like that, I know the insecurities you have thanks to the seeds of doubt formed from your childhood. I was as you say an arse" he apologised. He was in the wrong here and he took it too far, enjoying the fun of it until he really hurt Arthur's feelings. He used the most sensitive subjects he could think of and hurt England, but he felt bad for it.

England softened "I apologise for stressing you out, the food was good, but it's shame we couldn't order any" he sighed. They were both starving, wondering if they should have gone to the bar to join the others, but on an empty stomach it wasn't such a good idea. They had the rest of the night to relax and drink if they so wished. He was so hungry at this point he could eat a horse. Their bad moods influenced by the lack of a decent meal for hours.

"We could do room service" France suggested, wiggling his eyebrows, why not since they were on a trip and it was paid for by their bosses. Once they returned home it was back to responsibility and reality, why not have some fun while they still could? What was the harm? They could always make the evening romantic, just the two of them, maybe run a bubble bath?

"I like the sound of that pet" England smiled, he couldn't wait to collapse on the hotel room bed and sleep like the dead. They both needed their rest.


England opened the bedroom door wearily, switching on the light as the room illuminated from the darkness. France had splashed out and got one of the nicer rooms, double bed to share, a nice view and reasonable comforts, England wouldn't complain. There was enough room for them both and it only made sense as a couple, why get separate rooms when they could share? He approached the bed after closing the front door, collapsing onto it with a soft groan, his face submerged in the pillows. He remembered being a younger nation, the first time he managed to own his own home, upon working under his earlier monarchy and getting his own chambers. He had nearly sobbed from living a life of poverty, a warm bed and a roof over his head. He had never forgotten that feeling and never took his home for granted. France kicked off his shoes, placing his jacket over a chair, loosening his tie and following England. He couldn't wait to get out of this suit into some of the comfier clothing he had brought with him. Despite the fashionable style he was known for, sometimes jeans, a jumper or button-down were just comfier. Slowly approaching the bed before sitting down on it, pulling a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it quietly and taking a heavy puff. This was needed, stress relief was something he took great pleasure in and helped improve his mood. Though not commonly known among their allies, under heavy stress England and France both occasionally smoked. As immortal beings it wouldn't hurt them in the slightest.

"I'm bloody knackered pet" England mumbled from the pillow, he would sleep through the night, his muscles ached. He felt like he could pass out right now, he was content with never moving again. Did this hotel have a spa at all? Because he would happily seek it out and indulge to his hearts content.

"Oui, today was tedious, as important as the world meetings are, today dragged on" France agreed, he had piles of notes and input for his boss for when this was over. Political meetings were never as fun as people believed them to be. There was tension, arguments, rivalries, stress and sometimes crying. With everything happening in the world it only brought further stress, reminding everyone of the situation of their countries and civilians. War, poverty, corruption, bankruptcy and more. Leaving them exhausted, stressed, and rising tensions.

England turned his head to face France, his green eyes darker from exhaustion and hunger "Please tell me you have more of those" England sighed. He hadn't smoked in a long time, he had experienced many things in his life as a nation. He had a colourful history and kicked many bad habits along the way, but smoking was one that still lingered at the back of his mind. Though he rarely did, sometimes the temptation was needed.

France pulled another from his pocket and handed it to England delicately, holding it between his fingers. England sat up and lit the cigarette, sighing heavily as he inhaled, his punk side coming to light. Enjoying the silence of the room, the balcony door open to prevent the alarm from going off. It had been a long day, probably a quiet night for them both. "Angleterre, would you be so kind as to flick through the menu? If the contents are unappealing to us both, I do believe there will be better take outs nearby that we may order from" France pressed. As classy as France could be he refused to eat food if it didn't appeal to him, preferring quality every time. There was decent street food they could get, maybe grab some beers together while out and have a laugh. It beat being cooped up in a hotel room and being bored to death.

England smirked "Given America is hosting this year, I'd be sceptical of the menu, but he has some decent street food places, maybe they do delivery" he suggested. The nearest places were all mcdonalds and other fast food places, but if they went for a walk they may find some decent places. The hidden gems that most wouldn't be able to notice. Finding somewhere quiet where they could just be alone together, have some romantic time as partners. Or if they got delivery to the room, they would be able to watch TV and enjoy a drink in the comfort of their room, just lounging on the bed.

"Are you suggesting we sneak out for a secret date mon Cher?" France smirked, they hadn't been on a date in some time. Precious memories made together, just the two of them. If they were alone, they wouldn't have to worry about other nations bothering them or being pestered. They may as well have some fun while on a business trip. Otherwise it would just get boring. Sneaking out reminded him of old times, during their younger years to avoid court, meetings and more, instead hiding in the fields and just having fun. Getting them into trouble but always worth it.

"If you insist" England chuckled, he knew Francis wouldn't be able to resist.


Tellement délicieux-So delicious

dio dannazione-God damn it