Countryhumans Oneshots

An Old Friendship

Morocco and America's friendship, requested by @Its_2am on Ao3. Bold is English.

"It's always lovely visiting your country, Qais. It's so beautiful." America said as he and Morocco walked through the streets of Rabat. Morocco snorted in amusement.

"Please, we both know you're only here for the food," Morocco said. America shrugged.

"Guilty. But how could I not? You're the greatest chef I know, and I adopted Louis," America said. Morocco shot him a teasing look.

"Ooo, better not let Louis hear that. Pretty sure it would be an insult to his pride."

"Please, my kids can turn anything I say into an insult. It's a national pastime of theirs." America pointed out. Morocco laughed.

"You're not wrong about that. I remember all the letters I used to get from you after your original thirteen got bodies. 'Morocco, you were the first to recognize me, and I don't trust France. How do you take care of children?' And then the Barbary Wars happened," Morocco said.

"An exciting start to a boring friendship."

"Please, like I'm not the closest friend you have," Morocco snarked.

"Well, Cuba did know about our DID first," America pointed out with a mischievous grin.

"Please. That was only because Cuba lived with you for four years, and you all were determined to keep people you liked from finding out because you cared so much about my friendship you didn't want to lose it." America shrugged.

"Yeah, fair enough. Where are we going to eat, by the way? I'm hungry."

"We're going to a little family-owned place. You'll love it." Morocco said. America grinned.

"I always do. Well, aside from that one place that gave me food poisoning. That sucked."

"I'm still sorry about that," Morocco said with a slight wince. That had not been a fun night for either of them.

"Oh, don't be. Lord knows my kids have given me food poisoning at least once a year." America said, waving his hand dismissively.

"Aside from Louis and Tex."

"Of course, of course. They're almost better chefs than you," America said.

"Good to know I still rank first on your chef list. It explains why you show up at my house at three am."

"Oh, come on, that was once," America protested.

"It shouldn't be happening to begin with," Morocco said, giving America a pointed glance.

"Hey, you're the one who gave me your address."

"Yeah, but it wasn't a request for you to break in," Morocco said.

"Well, someone has to keep you on your toes," America said.

"I got colonized by Spain and France," Morocco said. America winced.

"In a friendly way?" he corrected.

"For that, you're paying at the place," Morocco said.

"What? Qais, that's not fair! It's your country!" America protested.

"Well, I've been a country for longer, so treat your elders respectfully and buy them food." Morocco pointed out. America rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but I'm older by like fifty years or whatever," America said. Morocco felt his lips quirk into a slight grin.

"Or whatever. Real specific, Finn."

"I'm ending our peace treaty." America deadpanned.

"Please, you wouldn't know how to handle yourself if it wasn't for me," Morocco said, bumping his hip against America's, who rolled his eyes again, although there was a fond smile on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," America said, "Thanks for being there."

Morocco smiled again, pulling his oldest friend into a small side hug.

"It's my pleasure."