Thanks to KillerStrike and MonalisaRomano17 for reviewing.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
IndIce: Masochist Meal
Iceland spat the food out of his mouth and quickly grabbed the glass of water. India sighed, shaking his head.
"What is it with you Europeans and your inability to handle some spice?" he asked. "I even made sure to make it as mild as possible."
"That is not mild," Iceland snapped.
"Face it, you Europeans just have a weak pallet."
Iceland glared at the other male, before he had a bright idea. He tried to contain his smirk.
"So, you're saying European tastes are weak?" Iceland asked.
"Exactly," India replied.
"Then you wouldn't mind coming to my house next week where I'll give you something that only the bravest, hardiest people would try. I bet you wouldn't even be able to finish the first bite."
India quirked a brow, but he appeared intrigued.
"You really think you can give me something that I would not be able to handle?" India asked. "…Very well. And what would happen if one of us loses?"
"The loser goes to the world meeting wearing nothing but swimming trunks," Iceland said.
India stared at Iceland, before he sighed.
"Alright," he said. "I suggest you go to the store and buy a new pair of swimming trunks."
Iceland smirked. Poor, naïve fool.
…
India smiled as he watched Iceland in the kitchen, plating up some of whatever he wanted to serve them.
"Ah, it looks so pale," India said. "Are you sure you want to go through with the bet?"
"I'm sure," Iceland stated.
India shrugged, watching Iceland as he exited the kitchen and made his way to the dining room. There was a window which allowed someone to look into the kitchen from the dining room. India kept the smile on his face as he imagined how Iceland would look at the world meeting with his swimming trunks.
And then the smell hit him.
India gagged as the dish was placed in front of him. Iceland calmly went to get some sort of alcohol before he sat down across from India. India was staring at the dish, trying to figure out what it was. It smelled like several of France's cheeses all combined into one.
"What is this stuff?" India asked.
"Hákarl," Iceland responded, before he took a bite of the food.
India watched as Iceland chewed the bite before he swallowed. Iceland smirked before placing another bite in his mouth. India looked down at the dish and swallowed nervously, before he hesitantly took a bite himself.
It tasted like some sort of strange combination of nuts and cheese and fish. India could feel goosebumps erupt all over his skin as he chewed. He tried to imagine Iceland in the swimming trunks to keep him going, but unfortunately his gag reflex took over and he quickly spat the mouthful out before he could vomit.
"What is this stuff?!" India repeated as he tried to get the taste off his tongue.
Iceland handed him the alcohol with an amused expression on his face.
"Hákarl," Iceland stated. "Probably my most infamous dish. You see, you take a shark…"
"A what?!"
"And let all of the body fluids be squeezed out for six to twelve weeks, and then you let it hang to dry for a few months."
India just stared at Iceland.
"You mean to tell me that you gave me rotten shark meat?!" India demanded.
"Fermented, actually."
"What's the difference?! How… Why would you even think of something like that?!"
"Well, the shark is toxic until all of this is done, so…"
India groaned.
"Do I even want to know how you and your people even discovered all of this?" he groaned.
Iceland shrugged, before he grinned.
"So, have you picked out your swim trunks yet?" Iceland asked.
…
"India, what is the meaning of this?!" Germany shouted.
India stood at the door of the meeting room, feeling his face turning red.
"He lost a bet," Iceland said smugly. "He told me we Europeans have a weak pallet, and I introduced him to hákarl. The bet was that he wouldn't even be able to handle one bite."
Some of the Europeans burst out laughing. Germany winced, before he looked over India again. He sighed.
"Might I suggest doing research on another nation's cuisine before you try such a bet again?" he asked. "Anyway, sit down."
India took his seat, trying to shrink out of sight. Pakistan poked him and he warily glanced at his rival.
"So, what is it you ate?" he asked.
"Fermented shark meat," India groaned.
Despite his embarrassment, he was very smug when he saw Pakistan turn green.
I would one day like to visit Iceland, but hákarl is one thing I am not looking forward to. I don't even like regular hake. The seafood items I am willing to eat can be counted on one hand. There is no way I'm going to be able to stomach fermented shark.