Characters/Pairing: Austria/Hungary + Prussia
Rating: K+/T (for language only, though)
Summary: Valentine's Competition? Hungary liked the sound of that, especially since she knew how easy it was to win against Prussia.
Warnings: Just fluff. And one naughty word. :3
A/N: For sutera over at the valentalia exchange. And yeah, Valentine's Day is long and over with, but the deadline was yesterday, so...that's why. Don't judge. B<
From the wee-hours of the night, Hungary never set foot outside that kitchen, frantically mixing ingredients to make the perfect Valentine’s chocolate. Testing out different recipes from Belgium and Switzerland, she was determined to make the greatest holiday treat for Austria, even if it killed her.
She remembered hearing once from Japan, the tradition of women giving chocolate to their special loved ones on a day made especially for romance. She adored the concept and wanted to try it for herself. Well, she did have a more “competitive” reason for making sweets for Austria. If that bumbling excuse of a nation never called her up yesterday…
Wait, nation? What a joke. The fact that Prussia was still around irked Hungary immensely, but not as much as that phone call from last night. Oh, how Hungary regretted ever picking up the phone, only to hear that obnoxious screeching from the other end.
“Bet I can win Specs over for Valentine’s Day,” the Prussian said on the other end, nearly shouting in a jumbled mess of sound.
Hungary stared at the phone, befuddled by the sentence for more reasons than one. “Prussia, what are you talking about and why are you calling me? I thought I blocked your number.”
“Oh, it’s on!”
Now this was just getting annoying. “What’s on,” she said flatly, less curious and more anxious to get off the phone.
“The Valentine’s competition, duh. Haven’t you been listening to me? Jeez…”
“Wait, Valentine’s competition?” Hungary’s mind, still trying to grasp the “words” coming from Prussia’s mouth, felt a pang of interest.
“Hell yeah! Me against you: whoever can get Specs in bed first wins.”
“Specs? You don’t mean Austria, do you?”
That sickening laughter spewed from the phone, Prussia’s ego and arrogance nearly palatable. “Wow, I can’t believe it took you this long.”
Her blood at the boiling point, Hungary held out the phone for fear that her sheer rage would destroy the device in her hand. “BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOUR BARBARIC JIBBERISH, YOU MORON!”
Hungary stood there, trying to catch her breath: putting up with Prussia should’ve been classified as a workout. Of course, the stinging silence that followed gave Hungary too much hope that the ex-nation had hung up.
“...the hell?” Crap. He didn’t. “Anyway, I’ve got some plans with Austria tonight. We’re actually leaving once he gets out of the shower…or when I pry his wet, naked body out from the bathroom, kesese…”
“You sick bastard,” she responded with the sharpest bit of revulsion on her tongue, despite the fact that the idea of another man pulling Austria out from the middle of the shower made her lip twitch in a smile.
“I take that as a yes?”
“To my challenge.”
Hungary rolled her eyes, long since finished with the inane conversation. “That’s hardly a challenge. Don’t make me remind you that I was married to the man, Prussia.”
“Was is the keyword there, missy.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“An awesome idiot. Good luck, Hungary, but not like it’s gonna do you any good,” he said before ending the painful conversation with a fowl click.
Although she could hardly understand what the albino-moron was saying, she understood one key thing: competition. To think that Prussia had the balls to challenge Hungary like this, he must have had some bit of sanity left in him to flutter away so quickly. Of course she would be able to swoon Austria better than that Prussian nut, but this was a Valentine’s Day challenge. She needed inspiration.
One quick call to Japan and Hungary knew all about the February courting customs from the soft-spoken Asian: Hungary was going to make chocolate for Austria. She knew how much he loved sweets. Just a few more calls to the cocoa experts of Europe and she was on her way to victory.
Or so she thought.
Every chocolate recipe ended up burnt or splattered about the kitchen, a feat she thought only capable of England. She only had so much time to prepare the decadent sweets and so far everything screamed disaster. She fumbled for the phone, only to cover it with a layer of wet chocolate and before she could dial Belgium’s number for dire help, she heard voices echoing in her home.
Both the wooden spoon and the telephone fell to the floor in a cocoa splash, her eyes widening in horror at the discovery of the voices.
“Oh, c’mon! They were front row seats!”
“To a hard rock concert! Prussia, I told you before: that is not music,” she heard Austria say among a chorus of haughty puffs.
Prussia entered the kitchen first, his crimson spheres rolling obnoxiously. “Bullshit, Specs, you’re just picky.”
“And stop calling me by that horrid name! God, I can’t wait for this day to be…”
Hungary stood in the chocolate-lined kitchen, her cheek boasting its own coating of the substance. Her lip beginning to quiver, she spotted a victorious smirk from her silver-haired adversary.
Austria merely stood in the doorway, half-confusion and half-horror lingering over his face. “Hungary, what is this,” he asked in a cautious manner, as if approaching a Black Mamba on the verge of attack.
“I…I made some chocolate for you,” she said in a hurried cry, grabbing a tray from the counter; it was covered in odd brown blobs with little black burn marks and poufy air pockets.
The contorted expression on Prussia’s face could only be translated as a sign of mockery. “The hell is that supposed to be,” he said, choking on a laugh.
“You made this? For me?”
She could feel the tears about to burst, trying to keep her hold on the tray as steady as possible. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Hungary, I can’t believe you went through all of this trouble,” he said with a soft smile.
She nodded quickly, hiding a smirk before claiming her victory: he still had to taste the chocolate yet.
Austria’s hand carefully lurked forward, his usually elegance masked with warning before grabbing a small presumed truffle. But that one bite made Hungary sure that this was indeed her win, Austria’s violet eyes widening like he had just heard a Mozart symphony for the first time. “This is…delicious!”
“Really?!” Prussia blurted out, a grotesque lip twitch adding to his disbelief.
“Hungary, thank you,” Austria said, he face filled with gentility. Pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket, the brunette wiped the chocolate-mess from her cheek, finishing the cleaning ritual with a soft kiss. “That was very sweet of you; they truly are one of a kind.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, wishing the chocolate was still there to hide her blush.
“Wait…you mean I lost?!”
Austria threw a quizzical glare at Prussia. “Lost? Lost what?”
“Hungary, what is he talking about,” he asked, taking another piece of chocolate from the tray.
Laughing, she took her hand and reached for Austria’s, balancing the chocolates in the other and walking towards the kitchen door. “Nothing important. Come on, let’s watch Amadeus,” she said, returning a kiss to his cheek and smirking at the red glow that lingered on his face. She craned her neck back, walking into the hall before rewarding Prussia with his loser’s-prize. “Have fun cleaning the kitchen!”
And as the kitchen door swung to a close, Hungary and Austria enjoyed their Valentine’s Day, huddled on the couch with chocolate and a movie, while Prussia yelled in the background, challenged with the task of cleaning Hungary’s kitchen-wide mess.
for the sake of redundancy, cross-posted to valentalia