Wednesday Night
Title: Wednesday Night
Characters: America/Korea
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mentions of strange foodstuffs? This one's pretty rainbows and kittens, really.
Summary: For aph_rarexchange, in response to a request for America/Korea bromance. Just some cool dudes chilling out and a little bit of fusion food history, 'cause we like it classy up in here.
So, yeah, there's these three certain little words. Just a syllable each, nothing too special on their own...and okay, it sounds pretty cheesy, but every time someone puts them all together in a row? It's like something in America really can't help but snap to attention. Maybe it's a gut reaction, maybe something a little more poetic than his gut, whatever. The point is that it's there and it means something, and he really doesn't think he'll ever get over what just three little words can do to a guy if he doesn't watch himself.
"I dare you."
Like clockwork. What's up with that?
Not everyone's that up front about it, by the way. Japan sure doesn't say it, or anyway not aloud. Not his style. Not even when food's involved. With Japan, even then it's more of a I would be most honored if you tried this raw fish or this cooked eel or whatever they've done to this poor little sea cucumber, and then America's gotta do it, 'cause, you know, honor. So that's as good as a dare, basically. Or sometimes it's the kind of thing where America's dead certain right off the bat that someone's just messing with him--as in the whole eyeballs-on-sticks, bloody fermented barfed up pickled jellied snake guts sorta stuff that China swears up and down is a national delicacy and how dare America not at least try some, that'd just be bad manners and wouldn't that be embarrassing in front of all these nice friendly diplomats, oh ho ho ho. That stuff, that's a dare, too, but China doesn't gotta say it.
Korea says it, though. Like, a lot. And it's Wednesday night, which is bros-other-than-Canada night, which is code for hey Korea cook me something I'm getting so sick of Cheerios you wouldn't even believe it...night, so daring is definitely in season. Usually that means a whole bus trip downtown for groceries, and lots of wandering around some of the fiddly parts of the city where America has to duck under balconies and shimmy around crowded corners and all the street names start bleeding together after a while, but Korea knows exactly where to go and how to get back out again so it doesn't matter.
This week, not so much. This week it means something more like chilling on the couch (the good side, not the one where the springs are all squeaky) and watching Korea sit on the floor and utterly destroy every video game America's got while America tries to remember what the heck budae jjigae is and whether it tastes any good. He could check in the kitchen for clues, but all that banging and rattling around in there sounded pretty ominous, not to mention messy, and besides that would mean getting up and walking all the way over there. So. It's a calculated risk. And anyway it doesn't matter 'cause eventually it all comes down to--
"Well?" Korea leans back against the couch with his head on the cushions and looks up at America, still playing. "Come on! Dude, you gotta." He grins, upside-down. "It's a dare."
"But." America looks up from the bowl he's holding like a glass nuclear baby, trying to impress the gravity of the situation upon Korea in the gentlest way possible. "But there's spam in it."
"So?" says Korea. "Spam originated in you!" You know, it would be nice if he even bothered to look at what he was doing while he played now and then. That's just, that's just showing off right there. "And it's not like I bought it. There was a can of it in your pantry and everything, so don't even act like it's such a huge shock."
The springs on the bad side of the couch squeak when America shifts his weight and thinks about how he's supposed to explain the finer nuances of American pantry-keeping culture. "Yeah, but that's like--okay, it's like everyone has a can of spam lying around somewhere, sure, but nobody actually opens it and eats the stuff. That would be just weird. And gross." He pokes around with his spoon some more, frowning. "And are these hotdogs, or am I totally crazy?" he asks, stabbing at one of the slices.
"Yes," says Korea, still grinning. Ha ha ha. America kicks him a little. "The hotdogs are yours too, so no complaining about whatever's in them." He scratches at the inside of one leg with the other foot, and oops, America should probably get a vacuum cleaner in here if that's what the bottoms of his socks look like already. "I still don't see what the big deal is; it's good stuff."
America shudders. "There's spam in it."
"Man..." Korea huffs his bangs out of his face and watches the screen again, not that it matters because he's totally hacked Rainbow Six or something, the way he's playing. However that works. The guy could hack Pong. "Okay, seriously," he says, and flexes his neck until something pops. "I got you to eat chicken feet. I got you to try dog. I almost got you to eat that Sannakji, and by the way we totally have to try that again because you were this close to getting that sucker down, I swear, you just gotta chew a little harder and watch out for the tentacles and I'll give you five bucks if you do it again." He shakes his head and tsk tsks aloud. "But spam, that's what throws you off?"
"Wait, what was that about dog again?"
"I can't believe you've never tried this stuff," Korea says, half to himself, or maybe it just sounds kinda distant since he's trying to save the world at the same time. "It's like a classic."
"Uh, I really think we should get back to the dog thing, actually."
Korea sighs, leans forward and pulls the cartridge out without bothering to save his game. "It was kind of an army thing with the spam," he says, rooting around for a new game to try. "Sort of. Your guys left a lot of stuff at the bases, and everyone else had, you know, not a lot of stuff"--he picks one, puts it in, waits for it to load--"so they made dinner out of it." He scratches at the back of his neck while the TV screen fills with color again, and America can see the 'made in' tag poking out of his hoodie. "And I thought it was cool. And now you know, but you probably did already and forgot since you're you and all. Hey, is it me or does Lara Croft's butt get ten times nicer each game?"
"Less triangle-y, definitely," America says, nodding. He keeps looking at the back of Korea's head. "So you really still make this stuff?"
Korea gives him a quick smile over his shoulder "Duh, 'cause it's good! Also cheap. And it came from me, but some of the ingredients came from you, and if I'm cooking in your kitchen then that's kind of the same idea (even if you do only buy the ramen that tastes like cardboard), so why not. Now try it before it gets cold. Double dare."
"But--"
"Double!"
--Aw, heck. That's just flagrant manipulation of a guy's weak spot, is what it is. America gives his bowl one last look, holds his breath and tries some. After a while he stops holding his breath. Then he stops having that look on his face. Then he picks up his spoon again. "Okay, alright, that's...pretty decent. Maybe. I guess."
It ought to be illegal, Korea laughing at him like that. "Told ya," he says, all sing-song. "See, and you even learned something about yourself! This is a good day for you."
"Tell me about it," America says, around a mouth too full to sound as sophisticated as he wants to sound, "It's like I'm a whole new person. You changed my life, man, I'm gonna write a book and go on Oprah and everything. Mmf--" He practically chokes when a few noodles go down the wrong way because in the time it's taken him to eat like two bites Korea has totally skipped ahead like three levels, what the hell. "How'd you do that?!"
Korea snickers again and makes Lara do a front flip. "Ancient Korean secret!"
"More like Cheaty McCheaterson," America says, sniffing. And Korea's even nice enough to wait until he's finished eating (even the spam, good lord) and put the bowl down somewhere safe before throwing the controller away and tackling him backwards over the couch. Which is totally gonna need to be replaced with all those squeaky springs and now a crack in one of the legs and one of the cushions beaten to heck and back over both of their heads. But the carpet is still pretty comfy, minus one or two rug burns from the landing, and if Korea doesn't mind letting Lara get eaten by tigers over there then America can probably worry about the couch some other time. There's maybe some other things that could take priority over that first.
But man, the things that just three words can do to a guy.
--
1. My apologies for the lateness of this fill. I hope it's to your liking, requester.
2. Don't listen to America because budae jjigae looks totally delicious and I don't even like spam. LOOK LOOK I LEARNED SOMETHING TOO.
Characters: America/Korea
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mentions of strange foodstuffs? This one's pretty rainbows and kittens, really.
Summary: For aph_rarexchange, in response to a request for America/Korea bromance. Just some cool dudes chilling out and a little bit of fusion food history, 'cause we like it classy up in here.
So, yeah, there's these three certain little words. Just a syllable each, nothing too special on their own...and okay, it sounds pretty cheesy, but every time someone puts them all together in a row? It's like something in America really can't help but snap to attention. Maybe it's a gut reaction, maybe something a little more poetic than his gut, whatever. The point is that it's there and it means something, and he really doesn't think he'll ever get over what just three little words can do to a guy if he doesn't watch himself.
"I dare you."
Like clockwork. What's up with that?
Not everyone's that up front about it, by the way. Japan sure doesn't say it, or anyway not aloud. Not his style. Not even when food's involved. With Japan, even then it's more of a I would be most honored if you tried this raw fish or this cooked eel or whatever they've done to this poor little sea cucumber, and then America's gotta do it, 'cause, you know, honor. So that's as good as a dare, basically. Or sometimes it's the kind of thing where America's dead certain right off the bat that someone's just messing with him--as in the whole eyeballs-on-sticks, bloody fermented barfed up pickled jellied snake guts sorta stuff that China swears up and down is a national delicacy and how dare America not at least try some, that'd just be bad manners and wouldn't that be embarrassing in front of all these nice friendly diplomats, oh ho ho ho. That stuff, that's a dare, too, but China doesn't gotta say it.
Korea says it, though. Like, a lot. And it's Wednesday night, which is bros-other-than-Canada night, which is code for hey Korea cook me something I'm getting so sick of Cheerios you wouldn't even believe it...night, so daring is definitely in season. Usually that means a whole bus trip downtown for groceries, and lots of wandering around some of the fiddly parts of the city where America has to duck under balconies and shimmy around crowded corners and all the street names start bleeding together after a while, but Korea knows exactly where to go and how to get back out again so it doesn't matter.
This week, not so much. This week it means something more like chilling on the couch (the good side, not the one where the springs are all squeaky) and watching Korea sit on the floor and utterly destroy every video game America's got while America tries to remember what the heck budae jjigae is and whether it tastes any good. He could check in the kitchen for clues, but all that banging and rattling around in there sounded pretty ominous, not to mention messy, and besides that would mean getting up and walking all the way over there. So. It's a calculated risk. And anyway it doesn't matter 'cause eventually it all comes down to--
"Well?" Korea leans back against the couch with his head on the cushions and looks up at America, still playing. "Come on! Dude, you gotta." He grins, upside-down. "It's a dare."
"But." America looks up from the bowl he's holding like a glass nuclear baby, trying to impress the gravity of the situation upon Korea in the gentlest way possible. "But there's spam in it."
"So?" says Korea. "Spam originated in you!" You know, it would be nice if he even bothered to look at what he was doing while he played now and then. That's just, that's just showing off right there. "And it's not like I bought it. There was a can of it in your pantry and everything, so don't even act like it's such a huge shock."
The springs on the bad side of the couch squeak when America shifts his weight and thinks about how he's supposed to explain the finer nuances of American pantry-keeping culture. "Yeah, but that's like--okay, it's like everyone has a can of spam lying around somewhere, sure, but nobody actually opens it and eats the stuff. That would be just weird. And gross." He pokes around with his spoon some more, frowning. "And are these hotdogs, or am I totally crazy?" he asks, stabbing at one of the slices.
"Yes," says Korea, still grinning. Ha ha ha. America kicks him a little. "The hotdogs are yours too, so no complaining about whatever's in them." He scratches at the inside of one leg with the other foot, and oops, America should probably get a vacuum cleaner in here if that's what the bottoms of his socks look like already. "I still don't see what the big deal is; it's good stuff."
America shudders. "There's spam in it."
"Man..." Korea huffs his bangs out of his face and watches the screen again, not that it matters because he's totally hacked Rainbow Six or something, the way he's playing. However that works. The guy could hack Pong. "Okay, seriously," he says, and flexes his neck until something pops. "I got you to eat chicken feet. I got you to try dog. I almost got you to eat that Sannakji, and by the way we totally have to try that again because you were this close to getting that sucker down, I swear, you just gotta chew a little harder and watch out for the tentacles and I'll give you five bucks if you do it again." He shakes his head and tsk tsks aloud. "But spam, that's what throws you off?"
"Wait, what was that about dog again?"
"I can't believe you've never tried this stuff," Korea says, half to himself, or maybe it just sounds kinda distant since he's trying to save the world at the same time. "It's like a classic."
"Uh, I really think we should get back to the dog thing, actually."
Korea sighs, leans forward and pulls the cartridge out without bothering to save his game. "It was kind of an army thing with the spam," he says, rooting around for a new game to try. "Sort of. Your guys left a lot of stuff at the bases, and everyone else had, you know, not a lot of stuff"--he picks one, puts it in, waits for it to load--"so they made dinner out of it." He scratches at the back of his neck while the TV screen fills with color again, and America can see the 'made in' tag poking out of his hoodie. "And I thought it was cool. And now you know, but you probably did already and forgot since you're you and all. Hey, is it me or does Lara Croft's butt get ten times nicer each game?"
"Less triangle-y, definitely," America says, nodding. He keeps looking at the back of Korea's head. "So you really still make this stuff?"
Korea gives him a quick smile over his shoulder "Duh, 'cause it's good! Also cheap. And it came from me, but some of the ingredients came from you, and if I'm cooking in your kitchen then that's kind of the same idea (even if you do only buy the ramen that tastes like cardboard), so why not. Now try it before it gets cold. Double dare."
"But--"
"Double!"
--Aw, heck. That's just flagrant manipulation of a guy's weak spot, is what it is. America gives his bowl one last look, holds his breath and tries some. After a while he stops holding his breath. Then he stops having that look on his face. Then he picks up his spoon again. "Okay, alright, that's...pretty decent. Maybe. I guess."
It ought to be illegal, Korea laughing at him like that. "Told ya," he says, all sing-song. "See, and you even learned something about yourself! This is a good day for you."
"Tell me about it," America says, around a mouth too full to sound as sophisticated as he wants to sound, "It's like I'm a whole new person. You changed my life, man, I'm gonna write a book and go on Oprah and everything. Mmf--" He practically chokes when a few noodles go down the wrong way because in the time it's taken him to eat like two bites Korea has totally skipped ahead like three levels, what the hell. "How'd you do that?!"
Korea snickers again and makes Lara do a front flip. "Ancient Korean secret!"
"More like Cheaty McCheaterson," America says, sniffing. And Korea's even nice enough to wait until he's finished eating (even the spam, good lord) and put the bowl down somewhere safe before throwing the controller away and tackling him backwards over the couch. Which is totally gonna need to be replaced with all those squeaky springs and now a crack in one of the legs and one of the cushions beaten to heck and back over both of their heads. But the carpet is still pretty comfy, minus one or two rug burns from the landing, and if Korea doesn't mind letting Lara get eaten by tigers over there then America can probably worry about the couch some other time. There's maybe some other things that could take priority over that first.
But man, the things that just three words can do to a guy.
--
1. My apologies for the lateness of this fill. I hope it's to your liking, requester.
2. Don't listen to America because budae jjigae looks totally delicious and I don't even like spam. LOOK LOOK I LEARNED SOMETHING TOO.