I do not own Hetalia.

A/N: This is related to the period in which Romano lived with America. The title is from an episode of Detective Conan anime.

...

Italy Romano's very own restaurant was immensely prosperous during the first month of its opening. True to America's words, the citizens of his country were craving some Italian dishes and they had flocked the restaurant like birds would to a crumb of bread. It had taken him a while to make everything happen after receiving help from different kinds of people. Not to mention that he had thought of just giving it up when he assumed it was just plain impossible to achieve his goal because of too much work, and that had happened for more than once. But fortunately, he urged himself to try and exert effort, for once in his life, to be able to accomplish it.

He had been very busy and all, but he was earning money so it was better than being pushed around by some other nation to do their chores. At least in here, he was his own boss.

However, despite everything, Romano was still brooding with the fact that America had yet to show his face in this place even though he was the one who had encouraged him to start the business. The superpower didn't push Romano, he didn't even give him the idea, but instead, he helped him to think of an idea. He gave out clues and hints for Romano to produce it by himself and by doing that, America made it as though he gave him the opportunity to boost his confidence. Romano didn't think about it that way before (he thought America was just a little piece of shit who suddenly became a superpower even though he was so much younger than Romano), but as he kept on moping around while thinking about how America fired his s[irits up, he couldn't help but noticed all the subtle yet clever ways he did things.

He was very grateful to him, but it's not like he was willing to voice out his thanks that easily. The only way he thought he could convey his gratitude was to treat him to good food and maybe a bit of his company. But how could he do that if the superpower hadn't even visited him yet? Damn him, was it so hard to find a little bit of his time to eat? Well, okay, Romano knew how busy America was nowadays to the point that he couldn't eat a proper meal, he had witnessed that before, but still...

Even his idiot little brother had been here once or twice before, no matter how labor-intensive his current work right now was. Veneziano had traveled from Europe to America just to visit him and even brought Spain with him once. And then there was Lithuania who had been coming here almost every time he had an off-day, so why couldn't America?

Though it wasn't as if he was eager for the superpower to see him, he wasn't lonely or whatsoever, he just really wanted to thank him properly, that was just it and nothing else.

"The hero is here!" an annoyingly boisterous voice that was followed by a familiar laugh made its way all across the kitchen and Romano might or might not have ran to the counter to check. He might or might also not have a smile on his face that he immediately wiped out when he realized it. "Heeeeyy! Romano! I came to visit," America greeted when he saw him, his overly loud and happy nature garnering the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear, damn it," Romano whispered to himself and frowned. Without a second thought, he crossed the distance from the counter to where America sat himself. "One month after the opening and you decided to show yourself now? What took you so long, you damn bastard?!"

"Hahaha, I'm sorry about that, I'm just so busy these past days. But, were you actually waiting for me?" he asked with an expectant smile and Romano was taken aback with it.

"A-as if! Why would I wait for you, you little shit?! I was just wondering why the fuck now after so long, damn it!"

"Heh, are you sulking, Romano?" he asked again and gave him that smile that was hinting like he was attempting to tease, even though Romano knew that he wasn't capable of teasing anyone because of his obliviousness. But still, the Italian couldn't help but to take the bait.

"I am not, you damn bastard! There's no way I would sulk just because you haven't visited me for more than a month! Hmmph, just wait there and I'll make you shut up with my coffee!" He didn't wait for a response from the superpower and briskly made his way back to the kitchen, although he still heard the laughter that came from the American idiot.

America's coffee at home wasn't even half the quality of an authentic Italian one, so he took this chance to make him know, once and for all, what a real coffee tasted like. He proceeded to arrange a cup of hot latte that he personally committed to make just so he could boast about his professional skills.

He set it accordingly and then he drew the flag of United States of America on the froth, just for added appeal. He inspected it thrice and after he was satisfied, he took it out and served it to America, who was taking his time to chat with his citizens on his neighboring table. "Here's your coffee, you bastard!"

"Oh, wow!" America exclaimed when he saw the latte, admired it with a big smile and gazed up approvingly to Romano.

The Italian let out a smirk upon catching sight of America's expression of marvelous when he took a sip on it. He could see how he lightened up at the astonishing taste of Romano's latte and the kick of caffeine. "Ohhhh! This is wonderful! This is really good, Romano!"

"Of course it is, bastard! Who do you think made it?" he said and watched as the superpower had a continuous drink of the treat. He noted that the milk foam that accumulated above his upper lip had been neglected because he was too absorbed with the coffee. That, or he honestly didn't know that he had acquired a white mustache. Romano stared at it, his smirk waning down because the froth-covered lips were distracting him more than he would like to admit.

"Haha, yeah of course it's you! But anyway, this place has such a good ambiance. I knew you could do it if you try to," America said while he looked around, still not noticing the silliness on his face.

"Yeah," Romano tried to respond, but his gaze was still fixated at America's lips. Should he wipe it himself? Or should he pass some napkin? But the milk foam actually tasted pretty nice so wouldn't it be a waste if he only wiped it?

With those thoughts running through his mind, Romano leaned closer to the still-occupied-with-the-interior-design America and grabbed him gently on his chin. He tilted the head upwards so they could be eye-to-eye since he was standing while the other was sitting and he witnessed how America's eyes widened in the confusion as he gradually lowered his own head and licked the froth off of America's lips.

When he drew back, he licked his own lips and rubbed the corner of his mouth with his thumb and then he was met by another silly expression from America's face. Hmm, it tastes better than I expected.

"W-what? Oh! There's a...? I could've wipe it myself, you know... or what, is that an Italian thing?" America asked, flustered and surprised.

When Romano caught a glimpse of his slowly reddening cheeks, he instantaneously felt his own face forming a blush before it could even register to him. He didn't regret what he did but... why the fuck would he do such a thing in public, goddamnit! "Y-yes it is, you bastard!" he answered without a thought, even though it really wasn't. It's more of a Romano-thing actually. "A-anyway, what will you eat?" he hurriedly asked just to change the topic because he was too embarrassed he could cry right at the moment.

America seemed to regain his composure at the mention of eating as he peered closely at the menu. Naturally, the dishes were all in Italian so he wouldn't have a clue what was what. "I think I'll let you decide for that, since you're the best in this, you know."

"Hmph, fine, whatever," he replied, walked away, and tried not to feel prideful with the casual compliment that he just received from the superpower.

Romano first tackled the preparation for the pizza. Normally, he would suffice with the help of his assistant chef, but since this was for America, he would like to depend on his own effort and efficiency. In other words, he wouldn't let anyone make the food that America would consume while he was on his restaurant. He made sure to work on it diligently and thoroughly while adding extra precision so the end result would nothing less than perfect. He also didn't forget to adjust it according to America's taste specifically with a lavish amount of meat. Then, he set it to cook.

Next, he got the pasta ready. He made sure to make his specialty and produced a larger portion of his regular serving and that it was bursting with flavor. He knew what America liked on his food so he deliberately customized it to his preference. While he was at it, he assembled another set of antipasti. It wasn't as if he was trying to impress the superpower, though, he only wanted to see that look of amazement on America's face while he ate Romano's food because it always made him feel like he was superior with something. Yeah, that's just it, damn it.

When everything was primed and about, he took a cart so he could serve all the dishes at once. That way, he could stay there to watch the superpower's reaction as he tried the food. His assistant chef and waiters were sending him surprised looks but he ignored all of them. He even piqued the curiosity of a couple of his customers, but he disregarded them too as he made his way to America.

"Woooooow!" America immediately cried when Romano approached him, his eyes twinkling in excitement and anticipation with what was being served to him. "Hmm, they smell so good and look so good! You're really the best, Romano!"

"Of course I am, jerk!" Romano replied absentmindedly. His focus was fixed on tending on his deliveries and ensuring they were still in topnotch. "There, try them now while they're still hot."

America didn't need to be told twice as he dug in right away. The steam of the just-out-of-the-oven pizza was visible in the naked eye and the superpower blew on it before biting a considerably meaty part. "Hmmmmmm! Delicious!" he yelled in between bites, his voice getting extra higher. "Delicious! Delicious! As expected of Romano! You're the best!"

Romano felt his ears getting hotter, his head getting bigger. He could take a praise well, but after a while, it would get really embarrassing especially when it came from America. Perhaps it was because he was actually mindful of America's opinion on him. Geez, so much for wanting to show-off. Before his face could metamorphose into a ripe tomato, he opted to run for an escape, but not before shouting another, "Of course I am the best, you bastard!"

Upon arriving at his turf, the kitchen, he compelled his heart to calm the fuck down. He went to clean his station and organized the ingredients again and again until the blood on his face returned to normal. He received strange looks from his employees and the other one even wanted to ask him about something but he quickly gave off an intimidating aura just so he wouldn't approach him.

After a while, he went to the door adjoining the counter and kitchen, squinted his eyes and glanced at where America sat. From there, he saw that the superpower was still devouring the food, but there was someone there with him. In a closer scrutiny, he found the other person to be the waiter he just hired last week.

The waiter was smiling and pointing something on America's glasses while America was pouting and... was he blushing?! Romano's eyebrows suddenly creased in a bout of irritation. Then he watched as the superpower removed his glasses, accepted the napkin offered by the same waiter and wiped Texas with it to remove the steam that had fogged the lenses up. And yeah, damn it, he was really blushing.

An angry tick appeared at the Italian's forehead and he felt a rush of extreme annoyance with the scene. America wouldn't easily let anyone see him without his glasses, something that had to do with having a bit of complex about his young appearance was what he had said, so to see him now being so casual and so chummy with that waiter, Romano felt a sense of betrayal. Why were they acting so familiar with each other? And why the hell was that American idiot blushing like that?! He looked cute but that was beside the point.

"Tsk, damn bastards!" He let out a vexing sigh. Damn that waiter, he was really bad news. Not that I care! You jerks, you can be all friendly for all I care, damn it! He marched out of the kitchen, strolling straight ahead to the back door where it connected to the alleyway. He gritted his teeth in annoyance and stomped his foot on the pavement. If he wasn't on duty, he would have cried already (not that he cared how he would look in the eyes of his employees, he was the boss here, after all).

He searched his pocket for the stick of tobacco he had been saving for his break, he lit it, and then he left it on his fingers like that with the smoke leisurely coming to him. He had a vague idea where the pang of jealousy had stemmed from, since he had had a remotely similar experience before. But this time was unlike that state. Instead of wanting to replace America's spot, where he was receiving recognition and care, he wanted to be in the place of that waiter. He wanted to be the one to pour all his attention to America and make him blush just like that. He also didn't want anyone to act so familiar with America and see him without his glasses. If possible, he wanted to be the only one to do that. Though that was a strange thing because why would he even want that?

Romano clicked his thing again before he breathed an exhausted sigh. He lightly blew on the lit end of the tobacco, just to disturb the serene flow of the smoke as he exhaled the scent. He didn't need to get intoxicated in it so this was enough to calm his nerves. Besides, it was unfitting for a gourmet chef like him to smoke while on duty. Even this was already pushing it.

"Heh, so you're smoking here..."

Romano whipped his head to where the voice came from. It didn't surprise him to find America smiling so guiltless at him. His hands were on his pockets and he was approaching where Romano was trying to relax himself. Side by side, they leaned on the wall with only a minimal space distancing them from each other. "Should you really be smoking?" America asked and it ticked Romano off, again.

"Shut up, you jerk! This is all your fault!"

"Ehh? Why is it my fault?" America pouted so Romano averted his gaze away.

"It is because I said so!"

"Ehhhhh? At any rate, your restaurant seems to be doing well, I'm glad."

Romano's brows elevated due to the sudden change of topic and America's strange intonation, it made him cast a look on the superpower once again. "Then why did you only visit me now, you bastard?" he murmured, half-hoping that he was heard while the other half hoped he wasn't. Much to his other half's dismay, America heard him, and judging from the shocked expression forming on his face, he didn't expect to hear honesty from Romano's question.

"Um..." he trailed, avoiding Romano's gaze all of a sudden, "I'm really sorry about that, it's just... You remember I told you you can rely on me? That you can come to me when you have a problem and I'll take care of it? But you didn't, and then before I know it, you're already settled here with a successful business. I think I'm just lonely that you didn't need my help. Maybe I wanted you to rely on me," he finishes, but his eyes were still looking away from the Italian.

"What the hell?" Romano reacted, not really knowing where to start rebutting his confession.

"Hahaha, really, what am I saying? Haha! Anyway—"

"No! What the hell is that?!" Romano cut him off and didn't give him a chance to change the topic again, and eventually, it resulted him to face him properly. "You've been a big help to me, you bastard! You helped me plenty enough! Aren't you the one who motivated me with this? And then you're saying you're lonely? I was lonely too, goddamnit!"

America's astounded and speechless expression was such a rarity, but Romano didn't pay too much attention to it as he poured his feelings out just so he could duly drill on this idiot's thick skull how great of a role he had played and had been playing in this episode of Romano's life.

"R-really?"

"Yes, you damn bastard! So don't say that you didn't help me because you did, you always do!" He dropped the tobacco on the floor of his vacant side and stepped on it, the smoke still lingering on the air. He inhaled one last scent of it, his mind getting remarkably clearer and more tranquil than earlier, and drew near America while taking granted of the situation in which the superpower was still completely stunned. He pulled him on his collar and pressed his lips to America's in a swift move. It was only a chaste kiss, a meeting of lips to lips, but there was an underlying communication in it.

When he backed away, America was in the midst of slowly opening his eyes. As if in a dazed, he asked, "Was that a continuation of the Italian thing earlier?"

Romano reveled at the look America was currently sporting. That was the first time he made that expression and only Romano could do that. "No, bastard. This is a Romano thing, exclusively for you. Don't you dare forget it, you damn jerk!" he muttered in a hurry, thankful that it came out smoothly, and for the third time, left America alone to ponder on it. He went back inside with a light heart and a proud ego, smiling to himself when he heard America's "I don't think I can even if I want to."

...

I'm accepting all forms of reaction, from calm and normal to bloody and trashy, just send me a review if you have some. Thanks a lot for checking it out!