|Anyone Can Cook
Author: webcomix PM
France decides to show the Allies firsthand how delicious French cuisine is, so he takes them to dine on the finest food in the country. For TheWonderBunny's Disney Mania Challenge. One-shot. Unoriginal title is unoriginal...but I hate making titles!Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Friendship - France - Words: 1,424 - Reviews: 22 - Favs: 93 - Follows: 4 - Published: 08-20-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6255378
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: This is for TheWonderBunny's Disney Mania Challenge - take a Disney film and relate it to Hetalia via where it's set! I saw Ratatouille on the list and since it's probably my favorite Pixar film to date, I knew I had to do it.
I was also inspired by a particular fanart on deviantArt by *Blue-Fox, whose APH fanarts I am very fond of. It's also called "Anyone Can Cook."
Axis Powers Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Ratatouille belongs to the Pixar Animation Studios and Walt Disney Pictures.
"Why are we eating here?" England frowned at their host. "The bloody line's all the way past the corner!"
"Yeah, I'm starved!" America whined.
"This better be good, aru," China remarked. He peered past all the other restaurant patrons. "Wah...so many people, aru!"
"I don't see anything wrong with this line," Russia quipped.
France just smiled smugly and adjusted the clasp of his cloak. There would always be a wait for the hottest place in town, and La Ratatouille was currently the best in all of Paris. With the chefs of Gusteau's in the kitchen and former critic Anton Ego providing support, the tiny bistro had exploded with success. Which is why, of course, he'd offered up his own country after everybody had agreed at the last Allies meeting that they were absolutely ravenous.
He let out a hearty laugh and waved his arm grandly, narrowly missing England's left ear while doing so. "No waiting required if you're with me!"
Winking at the waitress who was taking calls at the door, he strolled in, the rest of the Allies on his heels. There were definite perks to being the anthropomorphic manifestation of a nation. Alfredo Linguini, that sweet boy, hurried up to them.
"Welcome back, monsieur! I see you brought some friends." He gestured to a table over in the corner. "Please take a seat, and I'll be right with you."
As the others got settled into their chairs, France surreptitiously peeked over at the doors leading to the kitchen. He could see Colette's short, dark hair bobbing in and out of sight as she moved around. Linguini returned with the wine list, knowing it'd be the first thing asked.
"The usual, of course," France said carelessly, handing it over to England without thinking. "Is there any chance I can go in and see the chefs?"
"Um, they're really busy right now..." Linguini hesitated, knowing the power the blond man in front of him held. "But uh, sure, whatever you want."
Before anything else could transpire between them, America let out a deafening shout and slammed his menu on the table, rising from his seat.
"DUDE!" He pointed at the kitchen's double doors. "I just saw this big-ass mouse inside the kitchen!"
The table grew quiet, though all the other patrons continued their conversations around them. France silently thanked whatever higher powers out there that America had never bothered learning French. Linguini looked like he was about to wet his pants. England and China had bewilderment written all over their faces. Russia just kept on smiling.
"No seriously, guys! It was standing on its back legs like a human and was looking right at us!" America urged them, arms flailing. "It was the weirdest thing ever!"
France stood up. "Perhaps I'll go look into it for you, America. After all, this is my country and I have to take responsibility, non?"
America nodded in satisfaction and plopped back down into his chair, picking up the menu. "Do you guys have any burgers?"
Leaving Linguini to answer the question, France made his way around the other tables. Upon coming to the double doors, he quietly slipped inside.
"Ah, lovely to see you, Cole-"
The young woman whirled around, brandishing a large knife. "What do you think you are doing in he-" She froze when she recognized him. "Ah, good evening, monsieur. Sorry about that."
"Not at all...I suppose you are busy with the dinner rush?"
"Oh yes, it's absolutely crazy out there." Colette let out a grunt as she hefted a large pot onto the stove. "And time for our Chef de Cuisine to make an appearance!" she called out towards the ceiling.
Right away, a small brown rat popped his head over the high window sill. It jumped into the tiny brass cup that acted as an elevator down to the counter. After cleaning its paws with a drop of tap water, the rat donned a chef hat and looked up at France with bright eyes.
France chuckled as he patted the rodent on the head. "Are you going to make your famous soup tonight?"
"That's the plan. Why don't you help out a while, so I can get on other things?" Colette handed him an apron.
"Alright!" France quickly tied the apron around him before bending down to look at the rat at eye level. "What do we do first, my Little Chef?"
The rat ran over to a small box containing index cards, flipping through them until he came to the right one, which he tapped with one paw. France picked it up and examined it carefully.
"Hm...we need some onion, potato, and oh, this is interesting..."
The three cooks began their work diligently. Meanwhile, the rest of the Allies were getting a little restless outside.
"Holy moly, this bread is great! But where's my burger?"
"That's the seventh time you've asked that! Stop being so impatient! And don't talk with your mouth full, it's sickening."
"Hey, where did France go?"
"The kitchen. He's been in there for a long time, aru!"
France stirred the contents of the pot, breathing in the wonderful aromas appreciatively. He admired the small creature's clever instinct. Linguini had told him that the rat had improvised, coming up with a delectable solution on the spot.
"Let's see, Little Chef. We've put in the oil, the cream, garlic...anything else?"
The rat ran up the tiny ladder built especially for this purpose, holding a sprig in its paw, waving it towards France.
"That's right! Parsley!" France sprinkled a liberal amount of the herb over the bubbling soup with a flourish. "And that's finished!"
Colette walked over and had a taste, smacking her lips. "Perfect! Thank you, monsieur. You ought to go back to your table now, as to enjoy it fully."
"Don't mind if I do." France returned the apron and smiled down at the rat again. "A pleasure working with you, Little Chef, as always."
He would have sworn that the little guy winked at him.
China was tired of the constant bickering between America and England, so he instantly perked up when their host finally returned, bearing five steaming bowls of soup on a tray.
"Hey, that's not a burger!" America sniffed suspiciously at his bowl's contents. "What's in it?"
"Telling you would just confuse you. Don't worry, it's not deadly, unlike British food."
England paused in beginning his meal to scowl at France.
Russia was cheerfully taking in his soup. "I like this!"
America dubiously scooped up a spoonful of the creamy liquid. Then suddenly, he yelled again and jumped up. "See! There! I told you!"
France looked over to see the rat peering at them through the round windows of the kitchen doors. He simply smiled and waved at it, and it waved back before scurrying away to finish more orders.
When France turned back to his guests, they were all staring at him, astonished. America, in particular.
"So that, that thing, it made..." He spluttered. Then he looked down at his soup, aghast.
"As I said, don't worry." France remembered his wine and took a sip. "You're in France! And here, we believe that anyone can cook." He put down his glass and thought that statement over.
"Well, except for England."
A/N: Yummy yum yum, French cuisine! But I'm gonna have to say that if you offered me the choice of going to a French or a Spanish restaurant, I'd probably make a beeline for some paella. And then, if you threw Shanghainese into the mix, then I'd even abandon good ol' Hong Kong cha chaan teng stuff for some xiao long bao...
Maybe I should just write a Hetalia fic purely about food some time.