Black Coffee and Tiramisu

Summary: After Aldrick's favorite coffee shop closes down, he decides to try out the little bakery across the street for his new early-morning stop for breakfast. Little does he know how the shop's eccentric owner will turn his life upside down… GermaniaxAncient Rome, AU, One-shot

A/N: This is my first try at writing Germania/Ancient Rome… It's for a fic exchange with Tamer Lorika. I've read her works for quite a while, and I was pretty pumped when she agreed to do an exchange with me… I hope this is what she was looking for, even though I drifted from her original prompt/idea~!

Takes place in New York, because that's really the only large city I can think of at the moment (because I fail) and because it has such a diverse cultural background that makes it easy to imagine idiot-Italian-lover-boy Rome and uptight-overly-stereotyped Germania living within five hundred miles of each other…

My German heritage came out while writing this. Can anyone tell? XD I almost feel like I should write a fic with Ireland in it, now, because of that section of my heritage… This was too much fun to write.

Aldrick = Germania

Roma = Rome

~*~*~*~GermaniaxRome~*~*~*~

Aldrick stared at the sign in front of him. It was as if it were mocking him. Not just the little sign, but the whole world. His day had started out about as poorly as it could when there was a power outage sometime during the night, and his alarm clock had failed to go off. That had caused him to be nearly half an hour late for work (he'd even skipped breakfast in order to get there as promptly as possible). Such an event was unheard of for the prompt, no-nonsense businessman.

Now his favorite coffee house, the one that always had his order waiting for him in the morning, the one that he'd gone to religiously for the past five years, had decided to close its doors. A small sign declaring that it was now "Out of Business" seemed to look up at him mockingly. Then again, Aldrick had never really seen many others stop by the place. He supposed it didn't really get the traffic it needed to stay open. Then again, the fact that it didn't offer any of the "specialty" drinks that Starbucks offered may have also been a contributing factor. It had specialized in reasonably-priced baked goods and black coffee. These two things had made up his usual morning fare for years.

And now it was gone. Aldrick ran his fingers through his hair. It could not possibly get any worse. Of course, as soon as the thought came to mind, it did. It had rained earlier, and was still drizzling. A pickup full of teenagers went speeding down the road far above the speed limit, the tires spinning through a large puddle of water and sending water spraying up Aldrick's slacks. The businessman sighed heavily. It was official: today had to be the worst day of his life.

He heard quiet chuckling beside him, and looked up when the light drizzle stopped falling onto him. "You all right?" a man's voice asked, sounding both amused and politely concerned.

"I'm fine, please don't trouble yourself."

"You look like you could use a pick-me-up," the other responded immediately. Aldrick started a bit as a strong hand gripped onto his forearm, dragging him across the street, its owner ignoring the fact that this was, for one, not a crosswalk and two, there were about five taxis that had to slam on their brakes to keep them from being turned into Kartoffelpuffer.

"Watch where you're going, you idiot!" Aldrick scolded, blue eyes widening in shock and perhaps a tinge of fear as one of the yellow automobiles came within inches of hitting him and the idiot dragging him across lanes of heavy New York traffic. The other ignored him, crashing through the sidewalks that were almost as heavily populated with people as the streets were with cars. He nearly knocked over a poor woman carrying a large bag of groceries in one arm, and her two-year-old in the other. Aldrick managed to call a quick apology to the poor girl (who was flipping Aldrick's "companion" off and speaking in rapid Brooklyn-accented English at the idiot) before he was dragged through a door into a small, café-like building.

It was a rather beautifully decorated, with a ceramic tile floor throughout the entire place. Marble pillars decorated the walls, a few running down the center of the space, as well; paintings were hung in-between each half-pillar along the walls. A tall countertop was to one side, with a large glass case next to it. A wide variety of baked goods, many of which Aldrick couldn't even name, were on display. A few coffee machines were placed on top of the black countertop, the metal shiny and obviously well-taken care of.

"Come on, now, it'll do you some good to let loose. I can tell just from your face that you're too uptight," the newcomer stated, dragging Aldrick over to one of the chairs at the counter. He pushed him down onto the stool, and went behind the counter, humming the entire way. Aldrick was beyond bewildered, and simply stared at the man.

He was tall, somewhere around Aldrick's own height. He had tanned skin that spoke of long summers spent out in the sun, most likely near the ocean. His brown hair was slightly curly, and looked invitingly soft to the touch. Bright, amused amber eyes looked out behind the disarrayed bangs, matching the wide, almost knowing smile on his face. "So relax, have some sweets on the house, and tell me what's on your mind, hm? You're my first customer… We don't even officially open until tomorrow. So, what would your problem be? A fight with the missus? A teenage son going through a rebellion?"

Aldrick had never gotten married, for one; he'd been rather career-minded in his youth, and had never quite gotten around to settling down. It didn't help matters that he had never felt attracted to anyone, either; he wasn't even sure if he was straight, bi, or gay. He simply had never experienced sexual attraction—his mind was almost always on work. And the few times that he had woken up with a "problem", he could never remember the dream that had brought it about. He'd had sex, to be sure, but it hadn't exactly been the thrill that he'd heard it was. The girl he'd been with had shrugged it off as nothing, and they hadn't really spoken to each other afterwards. As a direct result of his failure to settle down, he had no children. He did, however, have two grown nephews. Their father, his brother, had died years ago, and left the two to him. Thankfully, Gilbert had been grown by then, and the younger brother, Ludwig, had been nearly eighteen. It had really been more of a formality than anything.

"No, nothing like that," he stated, staring at the other man. He was rather sure that this man was crazy; why else would he go across four lanes of heavy traffic, grab a complete stranger by the hand, and then only turn around and drag said stranger back through the traffic? "I don't have a wife, to begin with."

"Oh~" The other man smiled knowingly, amber eyes twinkling in apparently new-found knowledge and understanding. "I see~ From your looks, I never would have guessed… You look too much like the straight-laced, uptight type…"

"…You never would have guessed what?"

"That you were into men, of course!" The other man laughed.

"…Men…?" Aldrick stared at the man—whom he had only just placed as an Italian, judging from his accent—incredulously, now more than certain that more than one screw was loose in his head.

"Ah! Not that I have anything against that," the other man continued, shrugging and waving his arms theatrically. "After all, love is love, and what should come first and foremost, what is the most important thing in a relationship is the love shared between you and your lover, am I right?"

"I have no idea what—"

"I'm sure you do, sir… Really, it is no concern to me if you are homosexual or heterosexual… Unless you're bi?"

"I hardly think this is a proper—"

"Ah! Yes, how rude of me! Do you like tiramisu?" The man asked, walking over to the case, crouching down and looking around at the different sweets within the chilled glass box.

Aldrick's head was spinning because of the man's random topic changes; it was like getting whiplash, but even worse, because he had no answers to any of this idiot's questions. "I couldn't say I've had it."

The other man looked stricken and shocked. "Never had it? Ah, but it's delicious! We'll have to remedy that right away—"

"I really should be going," Aldrick stated, holding a hand up. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have to get home. I have my work to finish, after all, things to do—"

"Ah, do you really have to go?" the other asked, looking up at Aldrick with a rather pathetic expression. "But you only just got here! At least say you'll come in sometime tomorrow, yes?" he asked, looking rather put-out. He appeared to have taken quite a liking to the German, for some reason.

"…I'll come back for breakfast," Aldrick finally agreed, sighing in defeat.

~*~*~*~GermaniaxRome~*~*~*~

That was how his somewhat strange, unpredictable relationship—if one could call it that—with Roma had started. Over the past few months, they had begun to get to know one another, in a sense. Aldrick stopped by every morning for his usual cup of coffee—black, with no cream or sugar added, just as he liked it. Every morning, Roma always had it waiting, piping-hot, at the same time. Roma had even, somehow, gotten the recipe to make nearly the same German-style broetchen rolls that had been served at the shop he had previously gone to. A bag with two of them, pre-loaded with the perfect amount of honey, was always sitting next to his coffee in the morning.

And each day, he'd receive the same words: "It's on the house, Aldrick. I'll see you tonight?"

And he'd respond in turn: "As usual, Roma, I'll be back after work."

After a long eight-to-nine-hour shift at work, a half-an-hour commute via subway back to his neighborhood and a five-minute walk from the subway station to the bakery, Aldrick was usually suitably tired. He'd almost always be greeted by one of Roma's grandsons (Lovino was rather difficult to deal with, but he was a good boy; he found Feliciano far more agreeable, but wondered about him sometimes). During one of these visits, he'd learned that Feliciano had done all of the paintings that adorned the café's interior, the only exception being a portrait of a woman he'd found to be the twins' grandmother, done by Roma himself. Lovino had informed him that she'd died of cancer before they had even been born, when their father was still very small. Roma had never remarried.

Roma didn't exactly look old enough to be a grandfather, either; he was Aldrick's age, roughly, though he stubbornly insisted that age was only a number, that one was only old if they admitted it to themselves and thought of themselves as such.

At this time, four months had passed since their initial meeting, and Aldrick, in spite of himself, was becoming a little attached to the eccentric Italian and his strange family. He'd found that Feliciano was a close friend of his nephew, Ludwig, and that his older nephew was good friends with Lovino's (denied) significant-other. And while the two boys were rather endearing, Aldrick found their grandfather a bit more interesting.

Where Feliciano was slightly dim-witted (in a rather adorable, charming manner), Roma could have moments where he was sharp as a blade, quick as a whip; he was highly intelligent, even if he didn't act like it most of the time. And where Lovino was ill-tempered and had a fuse shorter than his list of likes (which, as far as Aldrick had figured, included two things: tomatoes and his self-denied-boyfriend), Roma was ever-patient and gentle, usually cracking jokes (usually sexual in nature and highly inappropriate) and cheerfully beating together ingredients for his beloved tiramisu while Aldrick looked on.

Feliciano and his twin were off for the night, and had gone home to get some sleep before school the next morning. It was nearing closing time, and Aldrick was sipping at a cup of hot chocolate while Roma gently folded together whipping cream with the other ingredients to form his signature dessert… which he still had not persuaded his German counterpart to try.

"Come on, now, I know you like coffee," Roma stated, chuckling. "Considering that's almost all you get here. You'll like it."

"I don't really like sweets," Aldrick replied, sipping at his quickly-cooling drink. It was nearly empty, and he'd really have no reason to remain here after he finished it. For that very reason, he'd been nursing the drink for nearly forty-five minutes.

Roma began the layering process to make the dessert, scooping his mixture on top of a layer he'd begun soaking in espresso a few minutes ago. He tossed a handful of chocolate shavings over that layer with an expert hand, and then began the last few layers, adding another layer of espresso-soaked ladyfingers, another layer of the whipped cream mixture, and finishing with a bit of cocoa powder and the remaining chocolate shavings. The Italian carried the bowl the sweet whipped cream had once resided in. "At least try some of this, huh? It's the best part." He swiped his finger across the outer rim of the bowl, licking it off his finger in a rather childish manner.

"You, Roma, are an immature man-child," Aldrick stated, though it lacked any bite. He made no movement towards the sweet, instead choosing to finish off his drink at long last and toss it into the garbage a few feet away.

"It isn't that bad, Aldrick. Try some!" Roma complained. Aldrick opened his mouth to refuse, but was greeted with a whipped-cream covered finger shoved into his mouth as soon as it opened.

The taste was sweet, indescribably so. And though he usually disliked sweets of any caliber, he found that he didn't mind this so much; Roma removed his finger (Oh God, a small voice stated somewhere in the back of Aldrick's head, that was the one he had in his mouth-). "See? It's good," the Italian stated victoriously.

Aldrick stared at the other for a moment, the sweet taste still tingling on his tongue, before he grabbed the other's hand, pulling him across the counter into a somewhat clumsy, but well-intentioned kiss. It was brief and light, and caught both of them rather off-guard; when Aldrick pulled away a moment after initiating the contact, Roma was looking up at him with surprise and bewilderment.

"Why'd you stop?" the tan man questioned, leaning forward to capture the German man's lips a second time.

~*~*~*~GermaniaxRome~*~*~*~

Their relationship continued like that for a few months; Aldrick would return to the bakery after work each day, usually bringing his paperwork with him, and sip at an "On-the-house" black coffee while Roma chattered away happily with customers, though he'd always return to what had become Aldrick's corner of the café, at a small table with an intricate wrought-iron chair, sometimes peering over at the large amounts of paperwork Aldrick was pouring through, but usually just brushing up against him in a familiar manner, if for no other reason than because he could.

Every night, they'd share a quick kiss before Aldrick returned to his quiet, one-bedroom apartment. The kiss almost always tasted like tiramisu (Aldrick had told that idiot to watch his sweet intake, he wasn't getting any younger; Roma would again laugh and brush it off—"Age is a matter of mind, Aldrick; why do you think you're already getting wrinkles?"), and Aldrick vaguely wondered if he tasted like his black coffee to the other.

As time continued to pass, Roma's fleeting touches turned into more concrete ones, his hand lingering a little more on Aldrick's shoulder, his hip. Their kisses lengthened, and began to mean something neither of them was really quite ready to face, though they both sensed it was there, and at least one of them was able to put a name to the sensation.

Aldrick's relationship with Roma wasn't the only thing that grew; Feliciano was becoming fonder and fonder of the uptight German. Even Lovino didn't hate him as much as he once had. The younger of the two twins was particularly quick to attach himself to people, but he never did so lightly. He adored Aldrick, and trusted him completely.

It was because of this trust that Aldrick was the first person Feliciano went to on the night of February 13th two years ago. It was late, already past closing time at the café by far. Aldrick had already fallen asleep when he was woken by a frantic pounding on his apartment door, the doorbell being rung repeatedly and incessantly. He managed to drag himself out of bed, not even pausing to put on a shirt, and answered the door wearing only an old pair of flannel pants. A rather distressed-looking Feliciano nearly knocked his chest in place of the door, and continued ringing the bell for nearly a full two seconds after Aldrick had answered him.

"What is it, Feliciano? It's nearly one in the morning," he stated sleepily, yawning widely.

"I-It's grandpa, he… he…" The teenager was always easy to upset, but this was something new; he was hardly ever short for words. He started to cry, grabbing onto Aldrick. "Grandpa's in the hospital, I don't know what to—"

"Roma's in the hospital?" Aldrick suddenly felt completely awake, snapped from a sleepy stupor to painful awareness. "What happened? Is he all right?"

"I don't know! They haven't told me or Lovi anything, and… and I didn't know who else to get! They won't tell me anything!" Feliciano sobbed, his shoulders shaking. "All I know is that he was finishing up closing after you left, a-and Lovi saw him collapse as he was cleaning the counter…"

"Calm down, Feliciano, it'll all be all right," Aldrick promised, though he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince the panicking Italian. He took a step back, snagging his coat from a hook near his door. "Come on. Let's head down to the hospital. I'll talk with the doctors, and they'll tell you the same; Roma will be just fine."

It took nearly twenty minutes (which was far too long, in Aldrick's opinion) to get to the hospital. It took another twenty before they found a doctor that knew anything about Roma's condition. By that time, Aldrick was beyond frustrated, and Feliciano was about ready to have a breakdown.

"Hey, Feli! I told you to wait until they let us in, but you ran off, you idi—Aldrick… What are you doing here?" Lovino questioned, sending the German a surprised look. "Did Feliciano come and get you?"

"Yes, he said that Roma collapsed at work," Aldrick stated, nodding once. "Do you know anything yet?"

"Not many details, just that it was a heart attack," Lovino explained. "The doctor came out a few minutes ago and said he'd be okay, that he'd make a full recovery… He's still resting, though, so we can only see him one at a—" The Italian was cut off when Aldrick abruptly pushed past him, walking towards the room across the hall. Though a nurse scolded him, yelling at him to stay where he was, he continued on into cramped hospital room.

Roma was hooked up to a few different machines that Aldrick could probably name, if he gave a damn at the moment, monitoring his heart rate and his blood pressure, an IV dripping into his arm.

"Aldrick," the other greeted, smiling in that innocent, stupid way of his. "What a surprise—"

"You idiot!" Aldrick yelled, closing the distance between the two of them. "Do you think this is funny? You had me worried sick! Feliciano just appeared on my doorstep and informed me you'd collapsed at work… I mean, good God, Roma, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Roma allowed the other to yell, knowing that ranting was his way of releasing stress and venting the frustration that he had likely felt. "I'm all right, though, aren't I? And so are you. It's nothing to worry about. It's all right, Aldrick."

There was a tense silence that passed between the two. Though nothing was said, volumes seemed to pass between them, as still-worried, slightly angry blue eyes stared down at amber ones.

"For God's sake, Roma… I thought that you'd died… I thought that I'd lost you, and… And I…"

"…And you, what, Aldrick?"

"…It scared me, you idiot," Aldrick muttered darkly, leaning over the other man's bed, pressing his lips against the other's none-too-gently, but briefly. "And if you ever scare me like that again, I'll kill you myself, you hear me?"

Roma laughed openly, but nodded. "All right, Aldrick… It's a deal," he stated, pulling the other man down into another kiss. "I can tell you were extremely worried, considering you're not even wearing a shirt, your coat's unbuttoned, and it's the middle of winter outside… Didn't know I meant so much to you, amore mio."

~*~*~*~GermaniaxRome~*~*~*~

The weeks afterwards were rather difficult. It took a while for Roma to recover, but once he had, he refused to take it easy, as his doctor had instructed, and went right back to work. He claimed that, if he babied himself, he'd never get back to full strength; more importantly, his customers needed him, and he had no intention of gaining their pity for being gone longer than he needed to be.

Even worse, though he'd been put on a strict diet by the doctor, he continued to cheat, always sampling foods at work. While his excuse was that he had to make sure everything tasted correct (particularly since he made things traditionally, by taste, rather than by measurement), Aldrick believed it was for another reason: that he simply lusted after food, and loved it to an unhealthy degree. Aldrick blamed his sweet intake, as well as the copious amounts of pasta and other carbohydrates in his everyday diet.

Even now, two years later, he still struggled to make Roma eat more healthily; it was an on-going battle, and one that he doubted he'd ever win.

"Roma, stop taste-testing," he stated sternly, not even looking up from his paperwork, taking a sip from his coffee—black, as always; he was simply able to tell by now.

"I have to make sure the tiramisu is right, Aldrick! The customers will complain if it isn't just right—"

"You mean that you'll complain if it isn't 'just right', Roma," Aldrick corrected.

"You're so cruel to me," Roma muttered, shaking his head. "A right disciplinarian, you are."

"Maybe that's just what you need, mein Schatz," Aldrick replied blandly, his tone never changing. He was used to Roma's complaining, by now.

Aldrick looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up from his paper. Roma smiled down at him briefly before capturing his lips in a firm kiss, smiling against his lips. The Italian pulled away a few moments later. "Mmm, you love me anyways, though, don't you?"

"Indeed I do," Aldrick replied, a barely-noticeable smile coming to his lips. Why that was, well, it was anyone's guess; but he did. He gave his lover another quick peck on the lips, the sweet taste of the tiramisu he'd been making still on his lips. While he still disliked sweets, he supposed he didn't mind them this way.

Notes:

Kartoffelpuffer – A German potato pancake… My German heritage is showing through, isn't it? XD They're great! In Germany, they're usually served with a side of apple sauce… In my family, we just eat them plain with breakfast.

Tiramisu – A rather famous Italian dessert, made with layers espresso-soaked ladyfingers and a rich whipped cream and marscapone mixture (marscapone is an Italian cheese with a high fat content... basically, it's like instant heart-attack. XD), often with egg yolks to richen the taste. While whipped cream isn't always used, many of the recipes I've seen have. It's usually topped with chocolate shavings, cocoa, or both.

Broetchen – A common breakfast item in Germany, usually served with honey, marmalade, or both… Basically, it's just your average bread roll.

Amore Mio – An Italian term of endearment; literally means "my love".

Mein Schatz – A German term of endearment; literally means "my treasure".

With this story, I was trying to go for a more "mature" love—something that people find later on in life, but find just as meaningful as young love, if not more so. I'm not sure if I captured it, exactly, but I hope that you enjoyed the fic nonetheless!