So this is a one shot that I've been sitting on since I joined Fanfiction. I didn't exactly know what to do with it so I made it a one-shot, it may become a two-shot. Constructive Criticism wanted! Destructive criticism can be kept to yourself. Remember if you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything. Please enjoy! R&R.

Disclaimer: I don't own Starbucks, that's just the setting for the beginning of this story. I don't own Hetalia either, but I'm on fanfiction, you could've guessed that yourself.

"Welcome to Starbucks, how may I help you, sir?" asked the tall Spanish cashier. He had bright green eyes and dark brown hair, a contrast that suited him quite nicely. Lovino spent about five minutes staring at the man before realizing he had to provide a response.

"Hmmm?" The Italian took a moment to take in his surroundings. He looked around quickly and remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

"What would you like to drink?"

"Coffee."

"I'll get right on it. Would you care for anything else?"

"No." The man with the Antonio name tag came back with a regular coffee in a couple of seconds, record time considering he spent half an hour on the last order. Lovino reached into his back pocket to get money to pay, but the cashier stopped him.

"It's on the house," Antonio smiled.

"You can't fucking buy me drinks bastard. I'm not a girl!" Lovino angrily slammed his money on the table, sending quarters flying everywhere. "I'm adult! I can buy my own damn coffee!" He grabbed his drink, went to the nearest table, took his laptop from his messenger bag, and began to type angrily. It took him a couple of minutes to realize that he wasn't writing a review for the movie he had recently seen, but the name Antonio, over and over again. Lovino cursed himself quietly, deleting the page and opening a new one. Lovino tasted his coffee; it took all of his strength to not spit it out. It needed sugar. As if on cue Antonio came up to him.

After the coffee fiasco, Antonio needed a reason to talk to the good-looking Italian. He had to get his name and number. Antonio tried to remember what his friend, Francis, kept telling him, but trying to give him a free drink had failed. Antonio looked at the other, who was typing away avidly. He surveyed the Italian, waiting for him to react to his purposely sugarless coffee. Antonio watched as the brown-eyed man's facial expression turned from one of anger, to disgust as he took a sip of his coffee and the Spaniard took this as his opportunity. He took as many sugar packets as he could hold and sped towards the other while trying to appear casual.

"Sorry, I forgot to give you sugar," he apologized, placing a fist full of sugar next to the Italian's laptop.

"And you fucking remembered this after I had to take a mouthful of that crap?"

"I'm so sorry," Antonio apologized again with sad puppy dog eyes.

"Whatever." The man took the sugar, rolling his eyes, and began to rip open packets and dump the contents into the disgusting drink. That's when Antonio noticed the sticker on the man's laptop.

"Lovino?" The Italian, who had started to stir his drink, stopped as he heart the Spaniard's voice.

"How the fuck did you know my name?!" Lovino exclaimed, startled.

"Your laptop says 'property of Lovino'," Antonio stated, pointing towards the label.

"Well Antonio, when you want to know someone's name, you fucking ask them. Unless you have the intention of coming off as some creepy psychopathic stalker, don't fucking say people's names if they didn't tell you!" That kind of yelling probably would've attracted attention if it wasn't a slow day; there was only one other person in the entire store.

"Sorry…, I should make it up to you."

"I'd like to see you try, fuckface." Antonio ignored Lovino's harsh comments, actually beginning to get used to them. What does Francis always say? Opposition is only because the other doesn't want to come to terms with their feelings for you. Then again, Francis got a restraining order...

"Let me take you out to dinner. That way I can formally apologize." Lovino stared at him for a moment before agreeing. It's not like he likes you, Lovino told himself. He just wants to apologize, don't get your hopes up.

"You'd better, or else I'm never buying coffee here again!"

"Can I have your number or would you prefer to call me? Better, we could exchange numbers."

Lovino argued with himself mentally. He didn't want to be the one waiting by the phone, but he didn't want to call early and appear too eager, not that he wanted to go out to dinner with this guy.

"I don't want to give you my number in case you're even creepier than I already think you are. I'll get yours and I might call, if I feel like it." Antonio quickly took out his notepad and scribbled down ten digits, handing them to Lovino.

"Great," Antonio smiled, "See you soon Lovi."

"What the fuck did you just call me?"

"Lovi, it's cute isn't it?"

"It's cute as fuck, but who gave you permission to call me that? The fuck is wrong with you? Do I look like a girl? Don't give me a fucking cute nickname!"

"Aww, Lovi, don't be like that. It's just so cute, I have to say it. Listen: Lovi. LoviLoviLoviLoviLovi! Adorable right?"

Lovino looked infuriated. "You're going the right way if you want to be punched in the face!"

"Aww, Lovi, don't be so cruel."

Lovino took his coffee, seething, and calmly uncapped it before chucking the piping hot drink all over the employee. The infuriated Italian didn't even bother putting his laptop away, he was too angry. He simply grabbed all of his belongings in his hands and stormed off. When he got to the door the question of how to open it dawned on the frustrated man. He stared at it momentarily. His hands were full and he'd be damned if he had to turn around in the middle of his dramatic exist. What idiot makes an exit a pull door? After an eight minute staring contest with the door, Antonio came up in different, dry clothing and held the door open for him.

"What the fuck do you're doing?!" the Italian yelled, glaring at the other man.

"It looked like you were having trouble leaving...I'm only trying to help."

"Well I don't need your fucking help! I've got hands! Now close the door so I can open it when I want to leave!" The Spaniard walked away from the door, allowing it to close behind him.

"...But your hands are full, how would you pull it open?"

"I'll figure it out on my own dammit! I wasn't even trying to leave!" the frustrated brunette tried to think of an escape plan. He honestly had no idea how he could leave by himself without using his hands. The thought of using his feet crossed his mind once, but he scratched that idea due to the fact that it could end in him falling. So he resolved to allow Antonio to get the door for him, just this once.

"You weren't?" asked a very confused Spaniard.

"No, I liked the view from here dammit! What the fuck did you think?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I-I thought you wanted to leave?"

"Of course I fucking wanted to leave! Why would I want to stare at a closed door forever? Idiota."

"So, I should open the door?" Antonio asked, uncertainly.

"Yes! You should've already fucking opened it! Making me stand here like an idiot staring at a closed door. Inconsiderate much?"

"I thought you said to close the door?"

"Do you want me to waste anymore of my time here? Just open the fucking door!"

"Ok," the Spaniard agreed, not quite understanding the situation, but opening the door. "Don't forget to call!" Antonio shouted happily as Lovino scurried off to find his Vespa.

I understand that I could add another part to this, but I'm not sure anyone wants to read that. If I get enough requests for it, I'll add that as a second chapter to this, even though this story is marked as complete. Please Read & Review. Reviews make my world go round! :D