Author's Note:

And we got another prompt up to the till. This one from autumnkitten25:

I really like this. Can you do one on how America can cook really well but only Canada, France, and England know so the other nations are surprised when they learn this?

Can do, dude. With pleasure.

DISCLAIMER, YOU HAVE BEEN DISCLAIMED

"Come on, guys, it wouldn't kill you." America whined as the other countries looked unsure.

It was only a simple invitation to dinner. America got bored, and when America gets bored, he plots. He plans things. And it seemed this time America wanted to host a dinner party with all his favorite nations. Canada and France agreed happily, and England agreed, but he made sure to make it clear he was only going to be polite, he didn't really want to go. All the other nations on the other hand...

Was it really a good idea? America didn't have sense of taste and all he ate was hamburgers! England raised him, so he probably couldn't cook either. So they thought that yes, going to dinner at America's house might actually kill them.

"I don't know..." Germany said, shuffling slightly, but still maintianing his insanely good posture.

"Come on, I'll make all sorts of food, play music, it'll be fun!" America was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

They all knew the persistant American wouldn't give up, so eventually enough, they caved and argeed to come over. America gave them his best hero grin and told they'd get their offical invitations in the mail within days.

The countries invited were Spain, the Italies, Germany, Prussia (Hey, the guys country might be history but he was cool, alright? Plus he helped train America to fight so that had to mean something, right?), Lithuania (America liked the guy, he was big help when he was staying over at his place.), England, Canada, France, China, and Japan. Granted on the day of the dinner, there was an... unexpected... and uninvited guest appeared.

"Russia! Dude, what are you doing here? You weren't invited." America chuckled nervously when he opened the door to the Russian.

"Yes, but I couldn't possibly miss such an event. I especially couldn't miss it if there is any chance you are going to horribly embarrass yourself infront of everybody with your horrible cooking." Russia smiled, tilting his head in that creepy way he does. "But if you insist that I leave, maybe Mr. Pipe can convince you otherwise, da?" Russia said, whipping out his L-pipe.

"No, bro, its cool!" America waved his hands around. "Put the pipe away, dude. You can stay. Just leave Lithuania alone."

"I will make no such promise." Russia said with his creepy smile, walking towards the living room. After a moment he heard Lithuania's sort of girly screeches. God Damnit.

America hoped that the others would like what he was making. Of course the Italies won't because they are super picky, so more so all the others. He knew the others thought he can't cook, on one hand it didn't make sense because they had never tasted his cook, but on the other hand, it made a lot of sense. He was related to England, he didn't really have a five-star pallete, and everytime they saw him eat, it was fast food. Sure, America loved McDonalds, it tastes good and it's really cheap, and the fast food industry was one was one of his biggest, so why wouldn't he, the personification of America, love fast food? Plus, even though he can cook, it wasn't like he had much time or money to do it. Eating healthy and home cooking in America was expensive as all hell, and with all the work his boss gave him and all the traveling he does, its easier to eat fast food. He's just lucky good ol' Mickey D's has some international locations. But that wasn't really important right now, was it?

After he finished the cooking, he decided to rescue Lithuania from Russia like the awesome hero he was by asking him to help bring out the food. Like old times, he said, and that made Lithuania smile. And so, the food was brought out, but America couldn't help but smirk a little whine he saw the suprised look on the other nation's face at the sight of the food, and the smell.

"Hey, dudes! Dinner is served!" America shouted into the hallway. There was a bunch of shuffling and grumbling, but the other nations eventually filed in. America sprawled an arm out at the food. "Tada!"

All the nations, except England, France and Canada, brows rose up in the air at the sight of the food. There was various dishes. There was some sort of ravioli, some dumplings, some hamburgers, a big bowl of mashed... Potatoes? There was a few different soups out to. And it all didn't look very bad, it actually looked good. By the time they snapped out of their stupor, England, Canada, France, America, and Lithuania had sat down.

"Are you lot going to just stand there looking like a bunch of gits all day or are you coming to dinner?" England said, looking impatient. They all nodded and made their way to the table.

"I hope you guys like it. I tried to make something everybody would like, and I made enough for everybody to try a little of everything." America smiled at his guests as they all took their seats. "I did go a little over board with all the soups, but they are so easy to make for large amounts of people. I'm sorry if anything is a little too Americanized for you, I know the awesomeness of my food can be intimating, but I didn't have time to make things too traditionally, or to make something from each of your countries, so I just tries to cover my bases."

"Just because it looks good doesn't it tastes any good." China said his normal dismissive nature, seeming to ignore half of what America said. The others nodded, and America looked annoyed while Canada, England and France rolled their eyes and started to fix their plates. Spain raised a brow when he saw both England and Canada pluck burgers up for their plates.

"Que? You actually want to eat those?" Spain asked, a curious brow at the pair, who just raised a brow back.

"Of course, that fast food garbage America eats all the time maybe disgusting, but America does make some decent burgers himself. Seasoning or something." England had grumbled to himself.

"America makes really great burgers, he's actually a really good cook." Canada said, though no one seemed to hear him. Hosers.

"Really? Okay then." Spain said and all the others started to assemble their plates.

And then came all the first bites, followed by raised brows.

"Aiya!"

"Dios mio."

"Wow, this only tastes a little like garbage!" (High praise from Italy)

"Very good, America."

"Vhy didn't you tell us you cook, America?" Germany more demanded then asked.

"You didn't ask." America answered bluntly.

"Of course America can cook, he's related to me, isn't he?" France said with a flare, taking the opprotunity to blow up his own ego.

"But didn't the unawesome England raise America?" Prussia asked, red eyes glaring slightly.

"Yeah, but I'm related to a bunch of other countries, dude. The Netherlands, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, France, England and Spain are all my..." America seemed to dread the word he had to say next. "Brothers. I know 'cause England had a DNA test done on me last year, you know, because he's a dick."

"I resent that statement! I was only curious to see what percent of you was me. Most of it was me." England smirked before scowling. "And France, and there was a lot Spain to, for some reason."

"Dude, Spain owned most of the North American landmass when I was conceived, and the South American one to, I'd think you'd remember that, since you where so intent on beating all the riches he found in the New World out of him when I was born." America chuckled before giving a childish smirk. "You starting to lose your memory, old man?"

"FOR THE LAST BLOODY TIME, I'M NOT OLD!" England screeched, face bright red. America laughed at him.

The dinner from that point on went as well a world meeting, but with kick ass food. Maybe after this dinner, the other countries would stop underestimating young America.

But probably not.

Author's Note:

Sorry it took me awhile to get this up. Half way through writing this I got a visit from the paranoia fairy, which applies to my writing in the way that I felt very inscure about my... odd writing style and stopped writing for a spell to watch Black Butler. Happens.

So yeah. Review, prompt, yeah.