[Axis Powers Hetalia, America/England: Anyone Can Cook]
Title: Anyone Can Cook
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Romance/Humor
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: America/England
Word Count: 1,242
Summary: America is of the belief that a rat can help England cook.
Notes: For Sweethearts Week at usxuk. Day 02: Pop Culture Shock. This is, of course, a nod to my favorite Pixar film Ratatouille ♥
America, bless him, had this terrible habit of believing in things in movies. Now he wasn’t idiotic enough to believe everything in the movies was true (though he did make scientific arguments that some of them could be possible in the future), but when it came to the meaning or message of the movie- America was of the belief that if it was a good movie, the message had to be true.
And so England really shouldn’t have been too surprised when America had shown up at his door with a pet rat and a cookbook crudely doctored to read “Anyone Can Cook.”
“No, America. Just…no.”
“Is it because it’s French? Because Pixar’s actually out of Emeryville, California and they’re the awesome people behind it, not France so…”
England sighed. “No, it’s just preposterous that’s all. It’s barmy of you to think that a bloody rat could improve my cooking skills. Which are, quite fine, thank you very much.”
America, who had handed over the rat cage to England, gave him a set of puppy eyes. Something England swore the rat was mimicking.
“I trained him especially for you, England. He’s going to be your little chef buddy and help you make awesome food.”
Peering down into the cage, the little bluish gray rodent peered back up at him, all inquisitive nose and imploring eyes.
“And he won’t be a mess at all!” America continued, obviously desperate to sell his point, “He’s been trained to use the ratty potty in the corner and rats are super hygienic animals, always licking themselves clean and stuff, you know?”
“I’m not sure…” England began, but between America’s dejected expression and the sullen way the little rat dropped his gaze and sulked off to his little box, he couldn’t finish. “Well, I suppose it’s worth a try…”
America gave England an awkward hug around the rat cage, pressing a sloppy kiss to his brow and grinning as he sat the cookbook atop the cage.
“Awesome! I’m going to go buy your friend some more supplies, and you can fix us up dinner, how’s that?”
Thinking back to the last time he’d fixed dinner, and the fact it set off his smoke alarm and frightened his kitchen brownie off, the little hobgoblin muttering angry words as he went, England frowned.
“Are you sure, America?”
America put his hands on his shoulders and gave him a piercing look. “England, come on! Anyone can cook, whether it’s a rat or a stodgy guy like you, okay? You just have to believe in yourself.”
“R-right,” England replied quietly. He glanced down to the rat who was peering back up at him. “So what’s his name?”
America just smiled. “That’s up to you. He’s your cooking buddy, after all.”
-----------------------------------
England really wasn’t quite certain how Sir Reginald de Mimsy was supposed to help him cook, but America had insisted above all else to keep him in the kitchen while he worked.
So, as he bustled about the kitchen preparing things, the little gray rat sat on the kitchen counter in his cage, running on his wheel.
It was as he was working on cutting up some vegetables that suddenly, Sir Reginald the rat started clanging the toy bell in the corner of his cage very loudly. England put down the knife and came over to see what the little guy was fussing about.
“What’s gotten into you? America teach you to do that to drive me barmy while I cook?” England queried as the rat kept on ringing the bell non-stop.
But before he could reach in the cage and remove the bell, the tell-tale smell of burnt food reached his nostrils. England rushed off to the oven, put on his mitts and pulled out…a burnt mass that used to be food.
But…
He paused on realizing that the moment he’d removed the food from the oven, Sir Reginald had stopped bell-ringing and had gone back to running on his wheel. England blinked. Was that what America meant by the fact that the rat was trained? The little creature certainly had a great sense of smell…
Dumping out the crispy remains of food before his kitchen fairies could get too offended by it, England tugged the rat cage over next to the cookbook America had given him.
“All right Sir Reginald, what should I cook? British fare?”
The rat seemed uninterested by this.
England flipped the page. “Italian?”
Sir Reginald idly scratched his ear in disinterest.
“…French?” England asked with gritted teeth.
The rat scurried over to his ratty potty and well…used it. England had to suppress a grin. Perhaps the rat wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Turning to the last section of the cookbook, he queried, “American?”
At that, Sir Reginald perked up and came bounding over, shoving his nose excitedly through the bars of his cage and wiggling it as if he smelled something extra tasty.
Well, America had trained him…it was to be expected.
“Burger and chips then? I don’t think I can ruin that too badly. Or should it be a cheese burger?”
That seemed to perk the rat’s ears up and England decided that it was worth a go. Worst case scenario, he burnt it like always and claimed the recipe called for it to be extra crispy.
--------------------------------------
America seemed surprised, yet pleased when he arrived back with an armful of rat bedding and some toys for the little guy. As he sat down at the table, he picked up England’s burger and took a bite. His eyes went wide.
“It’s well done, but…” He took another bite of the burger and grinned around it, “it’s just a tad bit crispy.”
England felt a little smile tug at his lips. “So, it’s all right? You’re not just saying it to prove your point?”
America shook his head. “No way. I would never lie about the quality of a burger. That’s just not heroic!”
Taking a bite of one himself, England was surprised at how good it tasted compared to his previous attempts at it in the past. Tearing off a bit of cheese sticking out from the bun, England handed it over to Sir Reginald who took it and happily began nibbling on it.
“So he’s trained to ring the bell when he senses something burning, right?”
America nodded, his mouth still preoccupied with food.
“You know, I’m wondering now if one of my kitchen brownies tinkered with my oven settings to make things burn…”
“How could a dessert mess up your oven?” America asked.
“It’s a magical creature, you git. I’ve suspected for quite some time that they or some of the other fairy folk have been angered with me and therefore cursed my cooking.”
America gave him a half smile, and changed the subject. “Well luckily your rat cooking buddy can help you keep the burning to a minimum.”
England handed the little rat another piece of cheese. “True. You’re a right good chef, aren’t you Sir Reginald?”
“Maybe you should let him cook next time,” the younger nation quipped around a mouthful of slightly crispy fries.
That got England laughing. “Oh come now, America. We can’t believe everything in movies.”
With a shrug, he replied, “I don’t know England, if you can cook, anything’s possible.”
And England felt that even Sir Reginald de Mimsy agreed America deserved the handful of fries he’d tossed at his head for that one.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Romance/Humor
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: America/England
Word Count: 1,242
Summary: America is of the belief that a rat can help England cook.
Notes: For Sweethearts Week at usxuk. Day 02: Pop Culture Shock. This is, of course, a nod to my favorite Pixar film Ratatouille ♥
America, bless him, had this terrible habit of believing in things in movies. Now he wasn’t idiotic enough to believe everything in the movies was true (though he did make scientific arguments that some of them could be possible in the future), but when it came to the meaning or message of the movie- America was of the belief that if it was a good movie, the message had to be true.
And so England really shouldn’t have been too surprised when America had shown up at his door with a pet rat and a cookbook crudely doctored to read “Anyone Can Cook.”
“No, America. Just…no.”
“Is it because it’s French? Because Pixar’s actually out of Emeryville, California and they’re the awesome people behind it, not France so…”
England sighed. “No, it’s just preposterous that’s all. It’s barmy of you to think that a bloody rat could improve my cooking skills. Which are, quite fine, thank you very much.”
America, who had handed over the rat cage to England, gave him a set of puppy eyes. Something England swore the rat was mimicking.
“I trained him especially for you, England. He’s going to be your little chef buddy and help you make awesome food.”
Peering down into the cage, the little bluish gray rodent peered back up at him, all inquisitive nose and imploring eyes.
“And he won’t be a mess at all!” America continued, obviously desperate to sell his point, “He’s been trained to use the ratty potty in the corner and rats are super hygienic animals, always licking themselves clean and stuff, you know?”
“I’m not sure…” England began, but between America’s dejected expression and the sullen way the little rat dropped his gaze and sulked off to his little box, he couldn’t finish. “Well, I suppose it’s worth a try…”
America gave England an awkward hug around the rat cage, pressing a sloppy kiss to his brow and grinning as he sat the cookbook atop the cage.
“Awesome! I’m going to go buy your friend some more supplies, and you can fix us up dinner, how’s that?”
Thinking back to the last time he’d fixed dinner, and the fact it set off his smoke alarm and frightened his kitchen brownie off, the little hobgoblin muttering angry words as he went, England frowned.
“Are you sure, America?”
America put his hands on his shoulders and gave him a piercing look. “England, come on! Anyone can cook, whether it’s a rat or a stodgy guy like you, okay? You just have to believe in yourself.”
“R-right,” England replied quietly. He glanced down to the rat who was peering back up at him. “So what’s his name?”
America just smiled. “That’s up to you. He’s your cooking buddy, after all.”
-----------------------------------
England really wasn’t quite certain how Sir Reginald de Mimsy was supposed to help him cook, but America had insisted above all else to keep him in the kitchen while he worked.
So, as he bustled about the kitchen preparing things, the little gray rat sat on the kitchen counter in his cage, running on his wheel.
It was as he was working on cutting up some vegetables that suddenly, Sir Reginald the rat started clanging the toy bell in the corner of his cage very loudly. England put down the knife and came over to see what the little guy was fussing about.
“What’s gotten into you? America teach you to do that to drive me barmy while I cook?” England queried as the rat kept on ringing the bell non-stop.
But before he could reach in the cage and remove the bell, the tell-tale smell of burnt food reached his nostrils. England rushed off to the oven, put on his mitts and pulled out…a burnt mass that used to be food.
But…
He paused on realizing that the moment he’d removed the food from the oven, Sir Reginald had stopped bell-ringing and had gone back to running on his wheel. England blinked. Was that what America meant by the fact that the rat was trained? The little creature certainly had a great sense of smell…
Dumping out the crispy remains of food before his kitchen fairies could get too offended by it, England tugged the rat cage over next to the cookbook America had given him.
“All right Sir Reginald, what should I cook? British fare?”
The rat seemed uninterested by this.
England flipped the page. “Italian?”
Sir Reginald idly scratched his ear in disinterest.
“…French?” England asked with gritted teeth.
The rat scurried over to his ratty potty and well…used it. England had to suppress a grin. Perhaps the rat wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Turning to the last section of the cookbook, he queried, “American?”
At that, Sir Reginald perked up and came bounding over, shoving his nose excitedly through the bars of his cage and wiggling it as if he smelled something extra tasty.
Well, America had trained him…it was to be expected.
“Burger and chips then? I don’t think I can ruin that too badly. Or should it be a cheese burger?”
That seemed to perk the rat’s ears up and England decided that it was worth a go. Worst case scenario, he burnt it like always and claimed the recipe called for it to be extra crispy.
--------------------------------------
America seemed surprised, yet pleased when he arrived back with an armful of rat bedding and some toys for the little guy. As he sat down at the table, he picked up England’s burger and took a bite. His eyes went wide.
“It’s well done, but…” He took another bite of the burger and grinned around it, “it’s just a tad bit crispy.”
England felt a little smile tug at his lips. “So, it’s all right? You’re not just saying it to prove your point?”
America shook his head. “No way. I would never lie about the quality of a burger. That’s just not heroic!”
Taking a bite of one himself, England was surprised at how good it tasted compared to his previous attempts at it in the past. Tearing off a bit of cheese sticking out from the bun, England handed it over to Sir Reginald who took it and happily began nibbling on it.
“So he’s trained to ring the bell when he senses something burning, right?”
America nodded, his mouth still preoccupied with food.
“You know, I’m wondering now if one of my kitchen brownies tinkered with my oven settings to make things burn…”
“How could a dessert mess up your oven?” America asked.
“It’s a magical creature, you git. I’ve suspected for quite some time that they or some of the other fairy folk have been angered with me and therefore cursed my cooking.”
America gave him a half smile, and changed the subject. “Well luckily your rat cooking buddy can help you keep the burning to a minimum.”
England handed the little rat another piece of cheese. “True. You’re a right good chef, aren’t you Sir Reginald?”
“Maybe you should let him cook next time,” the younger nation quipped around a mouthful of slightly crispy fries.
That got England laughing. “Oh come now, America. We can’t believe everything in movies.”
With a shrug, he replied, “I don’t know England, if you can cook, anything’s possible.”
And England felt that even Sir Reginald de Mimsy agreed America deserved the handful of fries he’d tossed at his head for that one.