PrussiaxReader: Blackberry Cobbler

        “I vould love to help, but I have papervork,” Ludwig said, sighing and running a hand through his slicked back hair. I nodded understandingly and watched him walked back to his office. I looked at Gilbert and pulled my big, watery, kicked puppy dog eyes.
        “Bitte,” I begged the albino in his own language. He raised a sleek silver eyebrow and smirked. He moved forward and I giggled as he grabbed the bucket of blackberries from me. Gilbird sat cheeping happily on his head as he walked ahead of me.
        “As long as I can carry ze bucket,” he announced. I laughed loudly and hugged him as we walked into the kitchen. “So vhat’s first?” he asked, placing the berries next to the sink. I smiled, reaching down under the sink to pull out the bread bowl.
        “We’re going to get everything we need and then wash the berries.” He nodded in understand and I started ticking off the different items. The smaller, double handed pot, the sugar, flour and Crisco. He gathered everything by himself and set it all on the counter. I laughed and steered him towards the sink so we could rinse the blackberries. We dumped them carefully into the colander a few times, picking through them to get any dirt and such out. I laughed as Gilbert’s extremely pale hands began to take on a purplish tint from handling the small fruit.
        “Okay, if you’ll go ahead and pour them into the pot, that would be muchly appreciated,” I told him, setting the dumpling bot next to the sink. He emptied the colander into the medium sized pot, not before feeding his bird a few of the berries, and I set the sugar container next to it. “Now you have to pour two big cups of sugar over them,” I informed, shaking the sweetener over the blackberries. I shrugged and filled it about a fourth of the way full. “And then maybe add a little more,” I said, tossing in the last little bit.
        “Zat’s pretty sveet,” Gilbert said as I grabbed the pot and began filling it up with water. I smiled, and shut the water off when the container was full.
        “It has to be to make it taste right.” I placed the berries on an eye, lit the flame and stirred the mixture to make sure the sugar was dissolved before turning back to him. “Alright, now to make the dumplings,” I said, grabbing the bread bowl and setting it on the dryer next to the stove.
        “Flour?” he asked, picking up said object. I nodded and took it from him, telling him to also grab the Crisco, and then the milk from the refrigerator. I pulled the sifter out and handed to him as he did his best to set everything down gently. “Two large sifter fulls,” I instructed, pointing as the large bowl. I laughed as I watched him spill the white powder all over the place as he tried to put it into the sifter. Gilbird decided to fly off once he started getting hit with the powder.
        He was covered in flour after he finally managed to fill the bowl. He somehow managed to look even more like a ghost than before. Now instead of being just kind of pale, he looked a piece of paper. Totally and completely white, making his eyes pop all the more. I had to contain my giggle, watching as he mumbled cursed under his breath in German and kept shooting me death glares.
        “Okay, now vhat?” he asked grouchily, crossing his arms. I smiled gently and laid a hand on his arm. He looked down at me expectantly, eyebrows raised and I took a chance. I leaned up quickly, pressing a kiss to his lips and pulling away immediately. I didn’t bother wiping the flour of my mouth.
        “Now we have to make dough for the dumpling before the berries start boiling,” I explained, hollowing out the center of the flour for him. I showed him the amount of Crisco to scoop up with his fingers, mixing it in the bowl with the flour as I poured in some milk, managing not to make eye contact the entire time.
        “Geez frau! Zat’s cold!” I jumped as he shouted out when the ice cold milk made contact with his slender fingers. I snorted softly, watching as he pulled flour from the bottom instead of the sides.
        “Here, like this,” I murmured, reaching over and holding the top of his hand, moving his hands correctly. I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks, but I ignored it, feeling the dough firm as he worked it. I helped him kneed it before I deemed it sufficient. “Alright, I think that’s good. Now…” I laid out a flour covered hand towel and sprinkled some extra flour over it. I showed him how to pinch the dough off into balls, he laughed his head off at that, and then roll it flat.
        “I never knew cooking could be zis much fun!” he said enthusiastically, rolling the dough. I smirked and took the rolling pin from him and handed him a butter knife.
        “It’s not always this much fun,” I told him, grabbing some flour and putting a hand print on his black tank top for the heck of it. “So here comes the fun part,” I said, checking the blackberries to see them boiling, “we’ve got to cut the dough into strips,” I mimicked the action over the dough, “and then cut that into smaller rectangles. Got it?”
        “Ja liebeling!” he replied smirking. I pursed my lips as I watched him struggle to cut the dough as it stuck to the knife. “Vhat ze heck! Zis is impossibly unawesome!!” he cried frustratedly. I smiled and slid in between him and the washer.
        “No it’s not, here.” I covered my hand with his once again, and sliced through the dough quickly and smoothly. I cut it into smaller pieces and looked at Gilbert. His ruby eyes were wide and he looked at me.
        “Zat vas magic,” he stated bluntly. I laughed and rolled my eyes. I took the lid off the pot sitting on the stove and grabbed one of the dough pieces.
        “Sure it was. This is where you have to be careful,” I told him. “You have to find places where the water is bowling really hard. Normally their along the edges, like right there,” I said, pointing to the spot and holding the dough over it. “You have to slip the dumpling in there so it will cook quickly and come back up before it can hit the bottom.”
        “Uhm… a-alvight?” He was nervous as he held the dough over the hot liquid. “Okay, I change my mind, zis isn’t fun.” I shook my head and kissed his cheek.
        “Sure it is, you just have to learn and do your best,” I told him confidently. I told him to cut another strip and this time it was much faster. It didn’t stick to the knife as he separated the section. He put them into smaller pieces and found spots in the berries where the boiling was hardest, and dropped them in. It took a couple of strips of dough, but he managed to get the hang of it quickly.
        I stirred the berries and the dumplings constantly, making sure nothing got stuck to the pot. When most of the dough had been used and the mixture was nice and thick, I turned the eye off and told Gilbert to grab the glass pan I made brownies in. He found it quickly and set it across the small kitchen next to the sink.
        “Alright, you want to pour the berries?” I asked from the stove. He brightened and hurried over, grabbing the pot by the handles and walking back to the pan. “When you pour it, make sure it’s relatively even.” He nodded and slowly poured the berries into the glass. It steamed as it hit the cool glass and I took a wooden spoon and spread it evenly.
        “How’s zat?” he asked curiously. He was more like an expectant child, hoping for his parents’ approval more than his usual egotistical self. I smiled widely and refrained from hugging him until the pot was in the sink.
        “Very good! But we’re still missing something,” I told him. He scrunched his eyebrows together and looked back at the leftover dough. His ruby eyes widened as he realized what the cobbler was missing.
        “Kruste!” he exclaimed. I chuckled and nodded my head.
        “Yup! Got any idea how we’re going to make it?” I asked playfully, rocking forward on the balls of my feet. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Follow me!” I turned back to the dryer and grabbed the left over dough out of the bread bowl.
        “Do you have to flatten it?” Gilbert asked, poking at the large dough ball. I grabbed it and plopped it down on the towel in front of him.
        “Mhm. Do it just as you did the other one,” I instructed. Gilbert laughed loudly and I rolled my eyes. “Really? Immature much.” He snorted and grabbed the rolling pin.
        “Kesese, trust me, I can do you much better zan I can ze dough,” he teased, rolling the dough flat. I blushed and elbowed him lightly. He laughed and continued to flatten the dough. When it was about the right size, I helped him to roll it up onto the pin.
        “Now, make sure when you carry it over to the pan, you hold the pin, cause it’ll move on you,” I told him, making sure to keep my hands near his as he lifted the rolling pin. He nodded and kept his eye on it as he very carefully carried the dough and pin to the side of the sink. I helped him spread it over the cobbler.
        “Vait,” he said, frowning at the dessert, “vhy doesn’t it fit?” I looked at it and grinned. I grabbed the butter knife off the dryer and turned back to him.
        “It’s because it wasn’t rolled out perfectly, but there’s an easy way to fix that,” I replied, ignoring the look of incredulousness on Gilbert’s face. “Just lift up the pieces where it’s laying over the edge,” I did so, “and cut it.” I took the knife and very gently cut the dough. I showed him how to place it where dough was lacking and then helped him put butter along the crust. I quickly cut slits in the top in between the butter and turned back to him.
        “Geez, zat’s a lot of vork liebe,” Prussia said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. I nodded and poked his nose.
        “Yeah, but we’re still not through yet.” His ruby eyes looked confused and disbelieving, making me laugh. “We just have to put a thin layer of sugar over the top and then it can be cooked.” I sprinkled half the crust with sugar and let him do the other half. He put it in the oven and I dipped my finger into the sugar container while he wasn’t looking.
        “So, how long do ve have to vait?” Gilbert asked as he shut the oven door. I hid my finger behind his back and smiled at him.
        “Twenty minutes or so, not too long,” I replied sweetly. He groaned and leaned back against the washer.
        “I’m too awesome to have to wait!” he said, gesturing wildly with his hands. I giggled and walked up to him.
        “Well, we are going to clean up while we wait, but there’s one thing I want to show you first, but you have to close your eyes,” I replied, smiling at him. He cocked an eyebrow but allowed his eyes to slide closed. I was kinda of surprised that he’d agreed so easily, but I quickly ran my fingers over my lips, coating them in the sweet substance. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the Prussian’s.
        “Mm-!?” I smirked as I felt him jump in surprise, but sighed as he kissed me back. When the sugar was no longer covering out mouths, Gilbert pulled back, his eyes wide and his face flushed. “Vhat… vhat vas zat for?” he asked, reaching up to touch his lips lightly. I shrugged and pulled back, moving to put the milk and Crisco up.
        “For cooking with me,” I replied, closing the cabinets and standing back up. Arms were around my waist before I could stop them. A face was buried into my shoulder and I smiled.
        “You’re velcome liebe,” Gilbert murmured, pulling up and kissing my cheek. I flushed pink and he grinned. “Come on, let’s get ze kitchen clean before Vest zrows a hissy fit.” I chuckled and turned to put the flour up.
        We ended up getting flour almost everywhere. It was a pain to get back in the container and Gilbert wound up throwing some at me, so I threw some back. It was all cleaned up, miraculously, by the time we were supposed to pull the cobbler out. Ludwig was walking into the kitchen with a very excited Feliciano clinging to his shoulders.
        “Is zat ze cobbler zat you vere talking about _______?” he asked as he managed to pry the Italian from his body. I nodded and giggled as I watched Feliciano bounce around the kitchen. “It smells vunderbar.” I grinned and pulled out four bowls, watching as Gilbird flew in from nowhere and settled on Gilbert’s head.
        “Thanks Lud. I hope it smells as good as it tastes,” I told him as I scooped everyone out some of the blackberries. Feliciano seemingly didn’t care that it was still scalding and went to scarfing it down as soon as he had a spoon. I watched as the two brothers looked at the stuff in their bowls, at me, and then back at the dessert. They ate it at the same time and I was pleased to see the look of satisfaction cross their faces.
        “Mein Gott liebe! Zis is awesome!!” Gilbert shouted, scooping more of the cobbler into his mouth. Ludwig nodded, dumbstruck, and continued eating.
        “For once, I must agree viz Gilbert. Zis is amazing,” he replied. Then he turned to Italy, who was already almost done licking his bowl clean. “How come I’ve never had zis if you know how to make it Feliciano?” he asked curiously. The Italian paused and shrugged.
        “I guess I’ve-a always been too busy making pasta!” We laughed for a moment and then a thought stuck me as I watched the two German’s enjoy the blackberry cobbler.
        “You wanna know what makes it even better?” I asked. They’re eyes widened, doubting that the treat in their mouths could get any better. I walked to the freezer and pulled out a container of regular vanilla ice cream. I added a couple scoops of ice cream to their bowls and grinned as I watched Gilbert’s face. I didn’t get a response, simply eager, excited lips against mine. Well at least he liked it!