It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and neither Canada nor Spain had any obligations or places to be, and had chosen to spend it lying together on the couch, lazily flipping through television channels. Though they had been together in silence for the better part of the afternoon, it had since become almost tense, marked by the fact that Spain kept shifting as if something were on his mind but he didn't know quite how to express it.
Finally fed up, Canada sighed.
"Is something bothering you, Spain?" He asked quietly, no hint of his frustration seeping into his voice.
"No," Spain told him, almost puzzled. "Why do you ask?"
"It just seems like you have something on your mind is all."
They lapsed into silence again.
Sighing to himself, Canada snuggled closer to Spain, smiling when he felt his arms wrap around and hold him closer.
He was on the verge of sleep when Spain spoke.
"Do you think there is such a thing as tomato pancakes?"
Now wide-awake, Canada raised an eyebrow and gave a half shrug. "I don't know. Probably. I haven't had any before, though."
"Well, if there isn't, there should be."
"Mhm," Canada murmured, closing his eyes in thought. They probably weren't completely unheard of. Maybe a quick Internet search would bring up a recipe?
The room fell silent yet again and before long, Canada could hear light snoring coming from Spain. Carefully, he unwrapped himself from Spain's arms, silently mourning the loss of warmth, and made his way over the computer. If he hurried, he might be able to find and carry out a recipe before Spain awoke.
A couple of hours later, Spain found himself waking to the increasingly familiar smell of pancakes. Smiling, he stifled a yawn before heading to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to watch Canada flip a pancake.
"Good afternoon," he said brightly, laughing when Canada jumped in surprise. "Pancakes for dinner?"
"Yeah," Canada muttered, keeping his attention focused on the pancakes. "They're almost done if you would like to take a seat."
Spain took a seat and, sure enough, no more than five minutes later Canada placed a plate of pancakes on the table in front of him before taking the opposite chair, watching. Spain smiled at him, and Canada smiled back, never dropping his gaze. Looking down at his plate, Spain laughed when he saw the shape of the pancakes.
"Shaped like tomatoes? How cute."
Canada nodded, still watching him intensely. "How do they taste?"
Quickly cutting a piece and sticking it in his mouth, Spain was surprised to find that they weren't the usual pancakes.
"Are these tomato pancakes?"
"They might be. How do they taste?" Canada was trying, and failing, to hold back a grin.
"Hm." He stuck another bite in his mouth. "I don't know how to describe it."
Canada's face fell. "Oh?"
"It's really good. Here." Spain held up his fork, complete with a piece of pancake.
Canada leaned across the table closer to Spain's fork. He missed the almost-devious smile Spain gave as he, too, leaned closer and moved the fork away at the last second, kissing Canada instead.
"They do taste good," Canada commented when they pulled away, a faint blush covering his cheeks.