Cuba x Reader - What's a Birthday Without Dessert?

“Do you want to explain to me where we’re actually going? I don’t want to seem unappreciative but it’s not everyday that I have a bella dama charge into my house and drag me away.”


Rolling your eyes with the softest of smiles on your beautiful features, you glanced back at your Cuban companion cheerfully with a twinkle that out sparkled any star in the night sky. “Oh come on, you should know where we’re going by now and if you don’t, well, you’ll soon find out.”

“Know? How am I supposed to know?” The complainer questioned in bafflement though despite his obvious curiosities about the current situation, he didn’t make any movements or actions to stop you from holding his hand nor from letting you guide him to wherever you wished to be.

“Oh never mind Cuba. Just shush and allow me to be in charge for a change!” You boomed giddily like a child, overjoyed with whatever you had planned.

The male – better known as Cuba – opened his mouth slightly to come up with some comeback to your statement but then just shrugged it off and closed his mouth, deciding best to just let you take him on a journey.

It had been quite strange when you suddenly barged into his house and carried him out the home, despite his slight overweight self and the chores he had to do. He didn’t even get enough time to stop you or question you until now as your surprisingly strong persona conveyed him to a location without a single warning. It was unexpected to say the least.

However, he came to the only conclusion for the reason that you had come into his life to carry him away was because of one thing: his birthday. It was today and though you had congratulated him on the phone, it seemed to not be enough for you as…well, you can see.

He was grateful for such a friendship that you went through all the troubles to travel all the way from (your Country) to Cuba without even a proper plan just to commemorate a day which he had experienced for so many years. Though you were a person of stubborn beliefs and one of the many opinions you had on birthdays was that you should always memorialize them, no matter how old.

So I guess that’s why this whole scenario came to be. You conducting the way to a location that might as well be Narnia at the moment - because of his utter cluelessness of the situation - as he stumbled after you, not even having enough time to bring his beloved ice cream for the trip.

Cuba let out a gentle sigh though it wasn’t at all irritated. “The weather sure is caliente today. I wish we had some ice cream or something, it would have been perfect.”


His ears perked up at the sound of your angelic giggles. “Oh don’t worry, you won’t be fretting over that soon.”

The dark-skinned male frowned slightly in bafflement, simply just more curious than ever. He scratched the stubble of his chin, feeling the prickling sensation on his fingertips. “You are so confuso, you know that, right?”


“Of course I do. How could I not?” You joked wholeheartedly, taking Cuba through twists and turns and marches and shortcuts to the desired objective that just wouldn’t allow revealing themselves. “Now could you just enjoy the walk and trust me for a change? Honestly, I’m not taking you anywhere evil or…or smelly!”


Despite the silly circumstances, Cuba couldn’t help but to smile in amusement at your adorably childish nature. Despite being an incredibly smart and mature person, you did have your moments. “Well last time I trusted you, we got lost and had to call stupid America to pick us up.”


“…I thought we weren’t going to discuss that again and you know I’m sorry about that. You can trust me this time though, I made sure to memorize exactly where this place is.” You explained comfortingly.

“Well alright…but if we get into another situation where we have to call that fatass to help us then I will officially strip you of guiding anyone, anywhere.” Cuba grumbled, his mood darkening dramatically just at the mere thought of the hamburger-loving country.

You rolled your eyes at Cuba’s overdramatic behaviour but didn’t say anything as you reasoned that he must have had a pretty impressive reason for having such a burning hatred to the freedom-seeker. After all most countries didn’t hate another if it wasn’t for an appropriate reason.


“Alright, alright, that’s fair enough but could you quiet down now? We’re almost there.” You replied, clicking your tongue as you figured out the map in your head.

Even though every fiber of Cuba’s being wanted to investigate more into your little surprise, Cuba figured it wouldn’t be any use since the rest of the conversation had been unsuccessful. Concluding that it’d probably just be best to just relax and let you travel him to wherever, he allowed you to drag him through his capital, Havana; the place of his heart.

As he watched you speed up – most probably because you were both getting closer – he cursed inwardly on how addicting your touch was to his, despite the fact that it was such an innocent action.

Maybe it was the thoughts in his head that were clouding his judgement or maybe it was his clammy hands that might as well be commanding a river? Either way, it really was distracting.

Watching you slowly grin like the Cheshire cat, Cuba had to hurry behind as you speeded your way to a small shop in a distance. “Oh great, we’re here! It’s about time too, since I really was getting tired of all this fanning about.”

Squinting to try and identify the figure of the building, Cuba just seemed to grow more and more confused as the only thing he could decipher at his distance was the word ‘Ice’. “I’m glad we’re here too, but where are we? All I can tell is-“


“Is the big ‘Ice Cream Parlour’ on the sign?” The (Nationality) (brunette/blonde/ext) interrupted teasingly, finally slowing down after the tug and pull game you had been having. “I think you can figure out the rest of it now.”


Cuba looked back at you with a face of surprise mixed with perplexity before he moved his gaze to the area in front of him. However when he took notice to the sign and that it did indeed say Ice Cream Parlour in bold, italic lettering, his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Una sala de helado! Yo ni siquiera sabía que había uno aquí!” The cocoa-skinned gentleman besides you exclaimed giddily, now taking control of the leader of this excruciating heaving. “Oh, yo sabía por qué te amé así!”

Though you hadn’t the foggiest clue to what he had declared, you still giggled in amusement at his reaction. It was just too cute to see a grown man – especially one as seemingly calm and grumpy as Cuba – eye’s twinkle like dying stars just from a simple thing like ice cream. It was just like watching a child get happy over…well, ice cream.

Actually having to run just to keep up the pace, you chuckled softly to yourself as the dairy fan took in the full sight of such a magnificent palace before entering it with the rushed clicks of his sandals. As soon as you entered, Cuba just seemed to grow even more excited.

The small but quirky café was decorated in colours of soft whites; bright pinks and others such to give you a true sweetie-land feel to it. No matter where you looked there would always be some sort of food displayed that would just look too scrumptious to miss out on. Even the ice cream – which was being displayed in cooled ice compartments – jumped out at you with such seductive whispers it really was a pain to not just hug the stand where it stood.

Turning your attention to your companion instead of the tempting frozen desserts, you could tell that the establishment had left the same impression on Cuba too, since he couldn’t stop gawking at all the flavours that were to offer.

“Holy dios, this place is amazing!” Cuba bellowed in jubilation, finally walking around the place to explore, despite the small glares he got from the customers inside for being quite loud. “I don’t know how you found this place before me but I honestly don’t care anymore.”


“Neither do I, now lets go get diabetes!” You declared, strutting to the cashier who would have to deal with your silliness and Cuba’s passionate obsession.


Cuba hurried his way after you, but not without glancing at every little detail there was. He reminded you of the first time you had visited him in his country’s capital.

Being prepared, as he should be, the waiter of the sweet little bistro smiled at the two of you gawking with a kindness only a good employer has. He remained poised and tall, his pleasant waistcoat and pant trousers accustomed to him politely. He laced his hands together in front of him and bowed gently.


“Hola y bienvenidos a la sala de helado, ¿qué te gustaría hacer un pedido? Y si necesitas cualquier recomendación, encomiendo a fondo la triple delite de sabores de chocolate.” The worker uttered, though you couldn’t understand a word of what he said.

Turning your attention to Cuba for hope that he’d translate any of what the courteous staff member asked, you were relieved when he explained to you exactly what was spoken, which was on what you wanted to order.


“Oh, well I guess I’ll have a (favourite flavour) ice cream please.” You decided after some time, deciding it best to just go with a good old classic favourite. After all, you didn’t quite trust some of the flavours that had a spicy warning to them.

Cuba looked at you in soft amusement. “Only (favourite flavour)?”


“Oh shush, I know I’m being dull. I just…” You trailed off as you stared hard at a chili ice cream. “Don’t quite trust any others.”


Holding back an entertained chuckle, Cuba decided it best to leave things be as he turned back to the male server to order for the both of you. “Uno (favourite flavour) helado u una masa de galletas por favor.”

The cashier smiled cheerfully and moved from his counter to the ice cream containers to get your orders. His moves were swift and flawless as he glided across the marble floor, his shoes squeaky from the polish. Just from the graceful gestures and scoops, you could tell that the man was experienced.


Clicking the heels on your (favourite type of shoe), you kept making small noises of boredom to try and get through the minutes of waiting with Cuba. Luckily, ice cream doesn’t take that long to make so the waiter, obviously after paying him for the deserts, soon handed you both your delicious delights. It was marvelous to say the least, having the tantalizing frozen nourishment finally in your hands to satisfy your hungry needs.

Thanking the man with the only Spanish you knew, he flashed you a smile as you made your way to a table for three. Something about the friendliness seemed to upset Cuba greatly, but to put your finger on it was difficult.

When finally the two of you could relax, sit down and just enjoy each other’s company, you did so with pleasure as you licked the creamy sustenance greedily.

Cuba’s face burst into an array of shades of pinks but on why you couldn’t quite figure out and with a sudden uneasiness you decided it best that you simply just didn’t want to.

He quickly focused on his cookie dough - and to ease the growing flush on his cheeks - he decided to ask a question that bothered him, “Hey, have you heard anything from Canada? He said he’d be here hours ago but I haven’t seen a single sign of him.”


“I don’t know really. I messaged him to make sure it was the right date and he seemed to be getting on the plane to Harvana, but I haven’t really gotten anything besides the fact that he may be a couple minutes late.” You took a long gulp of your ice cream before continuing, “Hold on, I’ll text him again on our location and see if he replies.”


Doing as previously declaring, you rummaged through your (favourite type of trouser)’s back pocket to flip out your (Samsung/IPhone/Android/ext) to tweet your close friend Canada on your whereabouts.

It didn’t take long to send it but it would probably take a while to get a response. Content with what you had written, you shoved your mobile phone back into your compartment and went back to your slow melting snack. You considered it quite the talent that you had even been able to email the Canadian blonde without dropping your contents all over the floor.

“There, done.” You announced quietly, sending a twinkle Cuba’s way. “Hopefully we should hear something back from him soon. After all, this is Canada and he sure does worry a lot.”


Tickled by the true fact, Cuba smiled back as he had already finished half of his eatable in the small time you two had been sitting. “That’s very true. He really needs to learn to let loose! Maybe I’ll teach him some rumba, that always settles my concerns.”


You couldn’t help but giggle at the silly idea. “Well I’m not sure how dancing calms the worried soul if you’re not good at it but I would love to see you try and bust out your moves with little Canada.”


“Wait? You don’t think I can shake my moneymaker?” Cuba joked, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand, slowly consuming the last of his cookie dough.

Chortling, you shook your head and finally got to the point of eating the cone of your ice cream, slowly catching up to your dark-skinned friend. “Oh of course not. I just don’t think Canada can, as much as I love the guy.”


“Oh yeah?” Cuba inquired, leaning back against his wooden chair. “I bet Canada’s a better dancer than you think.”


Sensing a bid, your lips pulled upwards along with one of your curious eyebrows. “Is that so? From how you’re speaking, I almost think you’re challenging me Cuba.”

“Well maybe that’s because I am. What do you say? If Canada turns out to be a great dancer, then you have to do something for me, and if Canada turns out to be as terrible as you think, then I have to do something for you. Just a friendly bet, nothing major.” Cuba explained, licking off the sticky food’s substances off his fingers in a childish manner.


Though the wager was incredibly tempting, you knew that some part of it could backfire like a boomerang. Though just for the laugh, you nodded your head and strutted your free hand out in front of you. “Alright then, you’ve got yourself a deal.”


Cuba grinned and shook your hand back, glad that he had gotten rid of anything liquefy on his paws. “Fantástico, let the best guesser win.”


You grinned cheekily. “Thanks, I will.”

The personification of a Caribbean country opened his mouth for a retort but was interrupted as a soft ding resounded around the table. Confused, he watched as you rummaged through your pouch to reveal your communication device, grinning in the process.

Though it must have been the face he was pulling because soon the (hair colour)-haired beauty looked up at him and reassured; “Canada messaged back and he said he’d be here in a few minutes.”


“Great! Soon the three musketeers will be reunited once again!” Cuba declared but you couldn’t quite keep your attention on him as you stared hard at something that seemed to pop out of his face.

It was a small detail and thanks to his tanned skin it blended in perfectly, but a small stain had managed to smudge itself onto Cuba’s cheek rather boldly. You wondered why you hadn’t managed to notice it sooner but now finding it, you couldn’t help but giggle like a loopy schoolgirl.

The sudden change of attitude took Cuba by surprise – which was rather rare – as he looked at you like you were the devil’s daughter. “What? What’s wrong? Why are you laughing so much?”

Though the amount of chortling you were doing was rather worrying, you just continuously shook your head slowly. “Oh calm down, it’s nothing serious. It just seems that you’ve somehow managed to get a small spot of ice cream on the corner of your cheek. How you even got that though, I have no idea.”


Contorting his face to a look of bafflement, Cuba took a minute to reeling in what you had said before he snickered as well. “Really? Man, and I thought I was a clean eater! Where is it exactly?”


Finally calming down a bit, though your cheeks were still sore from your constant titters, you comfortably moved your ice cream to your lesser hand and leaned forward in your seat. “Oh come here, I’ll wipe it off for you.”


Though the request was rather forward and rather flustering, Cuba listened to what you said and moved his face forward and hoped for the best that you would not be able to notice or feel the crimson tint on his cheekbones.

He watched as you moved your delicate digits across his chubby skin, enjoying the tantalizing touch of your sweet graces. Maybe it was just the beautiful smile that adorned your face or maybe it was the addicting velvet brushing that got his heart racing but either way, he was going to need another ice cream to cool down his poor soul afterwards.

Finally after the most agonizing minute of Cuba’s life, you swabbed the smear off of his face and leaned back in your seat with an innocent grin on your face. Cuba wondered if inside you were just as embarrassed as he was.

“There, all gone now.” You stated, continuing your flavoured adventure with your delightful ice cream. “Now you don’t look like a messy kid anymore.”


Cuba scratched the back of his head as a remedy to his embarrassment, though it didn’t really help that much. “Gracias.”


You smiled. “It’s no problem!”


Though you would have thought that would be the end of that, huh? Oh no, because it seemed like events like to reoccur.

Watching as you licked your ice cream to then see the results of it, Cuba couldn’t help but snigger at the ridiculousness that was your face at the very moment. Now he knew why it had been so funny when it was stained on him.


Removing your attention from your ice cream and to the man who was crowing to himself with utter merriment, you lifted one of your defined brows with puzzlement at the very odd behaviour that you could have considered it similar to yours if you had been paying closer attention. “What’s so funny?”

“Well it might just be me, but I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to grow a (favourite flavour’s colour) moustache so quickly.” Cuba teased, fully enjoying the turnabout.

For a moment, you just stared at him blankly, not quite sure what he meant before a punch of realization hit you square on the face. You simpered with light-heartedness as you tried to hold your ice cream without dropping it in the process.

“Great. I guess this could be considered karma.” You joked, trying to use your elbow to clean yourself. “Just give me a minute.“


Watching you struggle like a fish out of water, Cuba decided it best just to help you out and make you look less of a ninny at the enjoyable parlour. “Come here. If you keep it up you’re going to continuing looking like a nincompoop like stupid America.”


You rolled your eyes. “Oh shush, I can do it myself!”


Cuba smirked in levity. “No you can’t. I’m watching you do it on your own, it’s not working.”

Despite his constant pushing and explanations, you still tried to wipe away the stain above your upper lip. Though when you finally realized it just wasn’t going to happen, you pouted and held your ice cream cone tightly (though not enough to break it). “How irking.”

“Can I help now?” Cuba asked, his cheek pressed against his large hand as he leaned on his elbow. The smile that was plastered on his face didn’t look like it was going anytime soon.

Pouting stubbornly, you slumped back in your seat and sighed in defeat. “Fine…but I’ll have you know that I’m not happy about my defeat.”


“Trust me, I can tell.” Cuba joked, sending you back an entertained grin, which proved to be very trying to your sulky face. “Now stop slumping and move closer so I can help wipe it away.”


Letting out a little moan of dissent but deciding it best to listen and do as you were told, you moved forward in your seat so he could at least be in range of your stain. Though it was very uncomfortable and you hoped that he’d finish the job soon.

“That’s better.” The Hispanic nation declared, moving forward in his seat as well. “Now hold still, it won’t take too long.”


“I hope not, I am rather cramped at the moment.” You replied in good nature.

Cuba let out a chuff of high spirits, but not finding the conversation interesting anymore. He leaned towards you, though hesitated on continuing despite how confident he had been before. He encouraged himself though, and continued on with his mission.

He took in your features first. With your (hair colour) locks flowing around you like beautifully intricate vines and your (eye colour) hues gazing back into his, which he bet just made them duller compared to how yours shined like a candle; as long as there was enough passion to fuel it, they would burn brightly. With how your skin – though fluttered with small dots or other imperfections – remained soft-looking and just so addicting to touch. With how your lips pursed in patience and though slightly crinkled, still positively tempting. With how ridiculous you truly looked with that silly ice cream moustache on your face but still remaining as beautiful as an angel that dropped by for a visit. With how your flaws simply just made you flawless and with how your smile simply made his mind stumble every time.

He gulped, and finally moved his fingers to touch your exquisite skin. Keeping one hand under your chin to lift your face towards his and the other to swipe away the blotch that taunted him, he took in the way your epidermis felt upon his thumb. His actions were slow and coursed as he stained his thumb with the warm liquid of the dessert but he soon removed it to lick the substance away.

Though he still kept his hand under your chin, and it looked like he wanted to put his other hand back where it had been before. The way his eyes were glinting, it seemed like he was having a mini war with himself, though every time he flinched or twitched, he moved his face closer to yours.

Awfully embarrassed about the whole scenario, you gazed at his lips slowly getting closer to yours before you looked back into his chocolate brown orbs and whispered out: “C-Cuba…?”


He was so close. He was almost there to just have a taste – a feel – of those tantalizing plump lips of yours. He just needed one touch, one small peck, and his tormented mind could finally be put at ease.

Though as he continued closer to you, despite your muttered quizzing, you noticed how it had not changed him at all. Though you thought about it…one kiss couldn’t hurt, right? Not with a man such as him, surely. So as you thought about it, your eyes became lidded, cloudy, and soon you were leaning towards him as he was to you.

It couldn’t hurt, right?

Wrong, because before either of you had time to process it, a soft, meek voice called out to you as the door to the parlour slammed open, quietly.

“A-ah! Cuba, (Your name)! I-I’m so sorry for being so late! The plane I got on was delayed for a bit and then the traffic was terrible and then I got lost and I...” Canada stopped his rant as he blushed and stared at the two of you. “…Should I come back later?”


The two of you snapped out of whatever dazes you were in as you glanced up at Canada, who was currently fiddling his hands to try and distract himself from his bashfulness. Finally taking in the situation, you both jumped away from each other and kept your arms as firmly against yourselves as possible.

“N-no! Do not worry amigo, I was just, um…” Cuba stuttered over his words, as he tried to remember coherent sentences.

“H-he was just helping me get some ice cream that got on my face, that’s all.” You finished, sending a nervous smile his way. Though Canada guessed that you both were indeed telling the truth, the way you both were broken into wrecks of awkwardness and edginess made him guess that there was more meaning to your actions than you both would admit. Especially with the cherry red flushes on your cheeks.

Canada smiled sweetly, though it felt like it had a layer of knowingness as well as he finally took a seat on the only chair available round the table. “Well alright, if you say so. Though, can I ask one thing?”


“Of course Canada, anything.” You encouraged surprisingly in confidence, though your eyes still flickered with emotions of utter sheepishness.


Though he had been smiling oh so kindly before, now he couldn’t help but smirk in utter gaiety though it was all in benevolence. It confused you and Cuba before he pointed to something on the floor that would only further his conclusion and your discomposure.

“Why is there ice cream on the floor?”