The Expecting America

Chapter Two: Alfred's Soup

HEY GUYS!

Literally just finished cleaning my room today, so now I have free time to write! I hope you enjoy the second chapter! This one is short too, but the next few chapters are going to be long so.

I love you all!

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Alfred came back downstairs in an adorably oversized sweater, leggings, and fluffy socks. His newly washed hair was glistening with remaining shower water and he was without his glasses. The socks he was wearing were the bundled fluffy ones one might see during winter for knee boots. They were light gray with white snowflakes on them, and sticky spots to make sure he doesn't slip. The sweater was lilac and said 'You're the Vodka to my Chaser' in white cursive, leading everyone to believe that the sweater actually belonged to Ivan. Of course, the three Baltics were utterly confused. Ivan hated it when people wore his sweaters, especially his purple ones. But, Ivan didn't get mad upon seeing his husband in his clothing. Instead, he walked over to his husband and hugged him from behind. He gently swayed him and was smelling his hair.

"I love the smell of a freshly showered sunflower," Ivan cooed as he kissed Alfred's head. The way he touched Alfred showed them that Ivan had indeed been misjudged by most of them for years. Ivan was so gentle with Alfred as if he could break him like crystal. Alfred chuckled as he gently swayed with his husband. He kissed his taller lover's jaw as he was released, fixing his hair and smiling. America then looked to the other nations with that same smile, his eyes glittering gems of flawlessness.

"Anybody wanna watch me cook? If I'm cooking I honestly just prefer it to be myself unless it involves multiple dishes. But since it's just soup and fresh bread I don't see why anybody else would need to be there," Alfred asked. China, France, and Germany shot up.

"I would aru!"

"Oui! I want to see jou cook mon fills!"

"I vill be an experience, I can tell,"

America nodded his head and lead them to the kitchen. He saw that there was a very large basket of about sixty sweet potatoes on the counter, as well as the other necessities: sixty or so sheets of kombu, a forty-five-ounce bag of bonito flakes, coconut milk, 15 cups of white miso, ground turmeric, and six limes. Alfred smiled and preheated the oven to 450 degrees and began to wash and peel the potatoes, lining them all on a covered baking sheet and putting the skin in the compost pile. The oven beeped and so Alfred put them in the oven and set a timer for exactly thirty-eight minutes. He then filled his largest pot with water and put all the kombu in it, setting a separate timer for thirty-two minutes. He then began to knead some dough that was in the fridge and roll them into tiny croissants. The timers beeped at the same time, so Alfred quickly took out the potatoes to let them cool and put it the bread. He brought the water to a simmer on medium heat and fished out the kombu from the water, adding the bonito flakes. He let it simmer for six minutes before taking it off the heat and letting it reduce down.

"Why are you doing that, aru?" China had been taking notes. Alfred smiled as he poked holes into the potatoes.

"When you allow the bonito flakes to steep down, it brings out the most flavor. Alfred then got out ten very large blenders: to each, he added six potatoes, coconut milk, miso, and turmeric. Then he began to strain the dashi thoroughly and evenly dispense it among the blenders. He then turned the blenders on as he cleaned the pot as the blenders ran, and a beep went off for the baking sheets. He finished the pot and put it back on the stove, putting on oven mitts and pulling the freshly made croissant rolls, add melted butter on them and putting them into nice baskets. Just then, Gavin came in all dirty.

"Gavin Kansas Jones, do not step a foot into my kitchen! Supper is almost done! Wash up and tell your siblings too as well! Bowls, spoons, and napkins are to be set in the dining room!" Alfred ordered as he finished putting the croissants into the remaining basket.

"But Ma-"

"No whining young man! Get your tail clean and tell the rest of the family! March!" Alfred pointed to the door and Gavin groaned walking out, "honestly do not know how that child gets so dirty. He never even goes outside!" Alfred says to the other three nations, who were stifling their laughter. Alfred then poured the blended soup into the pot from all the blenders. The sound of dishes and silverware clanking could be heard next door, as well as laughter. England came in with Italy, both of them sniffing deeply.

"That smells marvelous Alfred! And it's only been 55 minutes! You manage yourself so well in the kitchen!" England yelled. Alfred smiled and stirred the simmering pot, it began to lightly boil. He then took a small spoon and tested it. He kneaded the warm limes and cut them in half, wringing them out for their juice and stirring it in.

"Any of you wanna taste it?" Alfred asked, holding up the wooden spoon. Italy, of course, jumped at the chance, happily running over like an eager puppy.

"Me! Ve~" Italy yelped.

"Well, who better to taste it than the amazing cook, Feliciano Vargas," Alfred jested lightly as he blew on the spoon and fed it to him. Italy was silent. But then his eyes flew open, wide open.

"ALFREDO!!! THAT SOUP IS SO GOOD! IT'S SO RICH AND CREAMY AND DELICATE!" Italy praised Alfred to high heavens, the younger nation blushing. He smiled as he went to lift the soup, but his arms were caught by France.

"Non! You will not lift zat heavy pot! Let Germany do it!" France mothered and Germany nodded. He grabbed the pot and put it on the rolling table. Alfred also got a few spare bowls, filling them with fresh coconut flakes, roasted peanuts, and hot oil.

"These can be toppings," Alfred said as he put the smaller bowls down and Germany rolled out the pot. Many conversations halted when Alfred's food's scent wafted through the room. Alfred, Ludwig, Francis, and Yao served everyone and themselves. Sitting down, they said grace and dug in. Alfred received many compliments from the other nations. One nation, however, was more than happy.

"Alfred! I must 'ave ze recipe in full! Zis is ze most divine soup I 'ave ever eaten!" France gushed, "and jour croissants are so flaky! Jou did a fantastique job!"

"Wow, Italy and France like my soup. Must be pretty good!" Alfred yelped, blushing again. After cleaning the kitchen and storing the leftovers, Alfred went to his room and looked out the window. The snow was coming down hard, lining everything. Alfred sighed, knowing that they'd be snowed in tomorrow. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Ivan tug him into a hug. He was radiating warmth, indicating he just got out of the shower.

"You are like the snow, Fredka. You are pure, light, and bring an array of feelings. Like me, you bring me comfort just as the snow does. You are my home, just as the snow was. You ease my worries and bring a smile to my face, just as the snow has," Ivan kissed Alfred's temples, "Fredka, tomorrow we will be snowed in. What should we do?" Alfred cocked a grin.

"You'll see, I already got a plan," Alfred laid in bed as Ivan covered them. He was sleeping shirtless like always, as he pulled Alfred into his chest. The two cuddled closely in each other's arms, basking in the warmth and comfort they gave the other.

What could Alfred have planned?