::APH:: I'm No 5-Star Cook, Okay?

:: France x Reader ::

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"Francis, will you teach me how to cook?" You stood in the doorway to your boyfriend's room, giving him a slight pout. "You always want to cook and you won't let me try."

"That's because it's not very kind of me to make my girlfriend cook for me." Francis sat up on his bed, leaning back on his elbows, with an intrigued look. "But, you want to learn? It isn't as simple as people make it look. And watching the television programs don't help in the slightest." He chuckled a bit at the memory of you watching a marathon of cooking shows, hoping you'd learn a couple things about cooking if you did.

You blushed a bit, remembering the same thing as well, and crossed your arms over your chest in a defensive manner. "Well…I haven't cooked in a while, so I thought that it'd help me remember a couple basics…" You sighed and put your hands on your hips, glaring at him from the doorway. "Are you going to teach me or not?"

"I don't know, my dear," Francis teased as he lay back on the bed, putting his arms behind his head in a relaxed manner. "Maybe I want you to try it by yourself to see if you even need help with cooking."

You stayed silent for a moment before getting an idea in your head, a smirk making its way onto your lips. You charged towards him, letting out a loud, "BODY SLAM!" before you landed directly on top of Francis' stomach. He, in turn, let out an "oof!" just as you landed, jerking up a bit in pain.

~~~

"Alright, so, first, you must chop the garlic finely," Francis explained as he pulled out some ground beef from the fridge. You had somehow persuaded him to make a simple Italian dish, or spaghetti, as you all know it. You really haven't cooked a dish like this in a long time, so making it today would be fun, especially if you decided to remember how to cook it.

Though, you had to do something you didn't want to and ask a stupid question. "What does finely mean?"

Francis turned to look at you, his eyes filled with confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean…You said finely. What does finely even mean?" You looked down at the skin-free garlic, positioning the knife above one of the cloves.

"It means to chop it into tiny pieces…But, be careful. I don't want you to lose a finger!" He chuckled a bit at his bad pun, turning back to the meat.

"Alright, I'll try…" You stared at the garlic a moment longer before glancing around the kitchen for the chopper. You aren't going to risk losing a finger over making spaghetti, no matter how much you liked it! Once you found it, you grabbed it quickly and stuffed all of the cloves into the chopper, quickly smashing them up.

Francis turned to you with a very confused look, in which you returned the stare with a blank one. You gave him a cheesy grin before turning back to the chopper, continuing to smash down on it. Francis reached over and stopped you from continuing any further, saying, "No, no! That's enough of the chopping, dear!"

~~~

"Wow, [Name]…You made a complete mess of the kitchen." Francis blinked, staring at the kitchen from the dining room in pure shock. "How in the world did you manage that?"

You stole a quick glance at the kitchen as well, shrugging as you went back to setting the table. "I dunno. I don't usually cook, so I guess it's just natural for me to make a mess out of the kitchen." You laughed a bit as you put the salt and pepper on the table. "I never was the neatest person ever."

"Is that why you make me clean the room when you just finished opening a bunch of things at once?" He flashed a sly smile your way, in which you blushed at. You really did make a mess out of everything you did.

"Shut up, Frenchie," was all you could muster up to his insult. Once the table was done being set, you began to walk to the kitchen to serve the food, but were stopped by Francis already in the kitchen serving the food. You pouted at the Frenchman as he turned around, holding the two plates of spaghetti. He smiled at you and made his way to the table, you following after with your arms crossed over your chest.

"So, how does it taste, my dear?" Francis questioned, staring at you with an amused look. "Are you pleased with how you cooked tonight?"

"I…" You had just finished eating a forkful of spaghetti, and truthfully, it tasted like something Francis would have made. Well, he had helped you, but that was beside the point; you were the one who made most of it. "It tastes really good…"

Francis chuckled as he watched you take another bite, in which you had somehow managed to get sauce on the far side of your cheek. "You really aren't a very neat person, [Name]," he said as he licked his thumb, leaned over the table, and wiped the sauce away from your cheek. You blinked, taken aback by the action, but quickly changed your expression.

You pouted at him and turned your attention elsewhere, such as the kitchen. "It's not my fault, okay."