Red Velvet

Fandom: Hetalia
Shipping: Red Velvet Pancakes
Word Count: 576
Warnings: N/A

* * *

Matthieu froze, fork already halfway to his mouth before he let it clatter back to his plate. He stared in shock at the boy sitting on the opposite end of the restaurant. More specifically, at his plate.

The younger country sat alone, and the stares of the other customers were clearly getting to him. He sank lower in his seat, wondering why the one time he wanted to be invisible, he couldn’t disappear from the public’s eye.

Before the Canadian sat a plate that was stacked high with a fresh pile of crimson breakfast.

Onlookers pretended to chat about typical things such as the weather or the latest hockey game. But their eyes really lingered on Matthew. They hid snickers behind their hands, and they didn’t do a very good job of it.

Matthew sank lower than ever, still trying – unsuccessfully – to hide. He pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose, then took them off to nervously clean them. His fork lay to the side of his plate, forgotten for the moment.

Matthieu approached the table before Matthew even heard the footsteps. He stood before the startled Canadian and watched the boy slide his glasses clumsily back into place. “…Hey.” he muttered after a moment.

The younger boy looked around, as if to check to make sure that his second player really was talking to him. Reassured (but still confused), he replied cautiously, “H-Hey.”

He motioned to the seat across from his. “This seat taken?”

“No. I mean… not yet.”

“You mind if I sit here?”

“Um, sure… if you really want to.”

He sat with surprising grace, then stared intently at his first player. “…Eatin’ pancakes?” he asked at last.

“Y-Yes.” Matthew looked embarrassed. He averted his gaze, fearing ridicule.

The other country eyed the plate. “They’re kind of…” He seemed to search for the right word, drawing out the awkwardness that surrounded the table by causing an unneccssary silence, before finally grasping it. “red for pancakes.”

“Yes, well,” He fidgeted uncomfortably. “they’re red velvet pancakes.”

“Red velv… so they’re like the dessert? The cake?”

“Y-Yes.”

Matthieu stared at the boy that sat across from him. All was silent; nobody in the restaurant dared to move, for fear that they might break the moment (no matter what sort of moment it was; none of them really knew for sure).

At last he broke the silence. “That’s frickin’ brilliant.”

The eyes behind the glasses widened in shock. “Huh?”

“That’s frickin’ brilliant,” Matthieu repeated, reaching over and retrieving the fork from earlier. He motioned to Matthew with it and ordered, “Here, give me some.”

Matthew obeyed immediately, too caught off guard to do otherwise. He speared some of the pancakes, dipped them in syrup, and leaned across the table with the breakfast in tow. He ignored the way that the syrup spilled messily across the tablecloth; he was far too focused on the way that Matthieu ate the pancake. His eyes seemed alight.  This confused Matthew, but… it was a pleasant sort of confusion.

When Matthieu finally finished and swallowed his food, he found himself already grinning (a rare occurrence). “That was really good.”

The first player smiled a little, embarrassed, but also very pleased. “It’s a recipe that I thought up last night. You…” He played with his curl, looking anxiously at his other self. “You really like it?”

“Of course.” Matthieu motioned to the plate again. “Could I have some more?”