The Chef and the Hooker
author: Melby7777
Summary: Ludwig met Feliciano at the restaurant he owned. Antonio met Lovino in questionable circumstances. Both Vargas brothers share the same job, but how is it the same if they're doing different things?
Disclaimer: Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya
Note: I have no idea where this story will be going or where the Hell it came from.

Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt were the heirs to the Beilschmidt franchise. However, their grandfather came to the conclusion to completely skip over the elder brother due to his rebellious, outstanding and general egotistical attitude, making Ludwig the only heir.

To everyone's surprise, Gilbert didn't seem to care—or notice for that matter. Ludwig found it better to simply not talk to his brother about the whole ordeal, thinking his brother was simply waiting for someone to give him the opportunity to blow up over it all.

What they all failed to realize was that Gilbert ran his own business; though it was illegal, he had a great number of employees in the underground workings and was actually making a great profit.

At Gilbert's own disregard to his employees' personal lives and who they met outside of his work, he never expected his brother may meet one of them.

Especially not Feliciano Vargas—as sweet and innocent as the boy looked, there was definitely a darker side to him.

Ludwig, however, was one of the many to be fooled by the outward way the Italian acted when they met one bright afternoon.

He opens the door to the Italian restaurant, the smell of pasta and tomato sauce welcoming him immediately.

Normally, Ludwig wouldn't ever enter a restaurant that more than likely didn't serve wurst, but his brother had mentioned the place once and it perked Ludwig's interest. Really, for everyone to think Gilbert was someone not to look up to, they all failed to realize he didn't have a bad sense of taste. At least, everything Gilbert liked, Ludwig did as well.

Besides, his doctor has mentioned he needed to stop eating wurst so often, and pasta wasn't that bad.

Ludwig took a quick scan of the room, finding that it was family oriental and fairly clean. The walls were red bricks like most of the shops on this street, Italian flags and pictures of various different pastas covering the walls. Booths line the walls and simple little tables sat in the middle of the room, a counter for ordering sitting on the opposite wall from the door with the kitchen just beyond that. A sign above a hallway marked where the bathrooms were, though Ludwig didn't pay too much attention to that.

He was more concerned with the large pile of plates walking towards him before they—

Ah, yeah, he should have moved.

Ludwig and the one carrying the dishes fell to the floor, the other on top of the German while screaming out something in Italian. The sound of the clattering dishes shut everyone up in the restaurant, the majority of the customers looking back in concern to the two of them.

Big brown eyes stare down at Ludwig with fear, the young man who ran into him obviously afraid that he'd be yelled at by him. Ludwig didn't blame him; he was a large man—a large and German man, to be precise, with a very intimidating atmosphere to just about everyone, having a large nose and a rough appearance.

He was a bit sensitive about his large nose, though he was growing to not care about it…

The little Italian man on top of Ludwig was significantly smaller than him, not just in height but weight as well. His auburn hair looked soft to the touch, the bangs parting directly at the middle and hanging just above his large eyes. The way the light from the door shines behind the man gave a glow to him, giving the illusion to a halo around his head. Ludwig's cerulean eyes widen in his inspection of the smaller male, the last thing he noted being the pert little nose in the middle of his face, sitting atop his lush, feminine lips.

"Oh Feliciano, again with the tripping?" Someone calls, their voice heavy with Italian. The man—apparently this Feliciano—jerks his gaze away from the German below him to look at whoever called out.

Shrieking out a strange "ve~" noise, Feliciano shoots back to his feet, frantically waving his arms as though to say he hadn't done it. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to trip again!" Ludwig watches him when he launches into a tyrant of Italian, unable to translate it all.

The man standing nearby simply laughs it off, saying something in Italian to the frantic man that'd crashed into Ludwig. Gesturing to the German, he says something else before leaving, Feliciano once again staring down at the blond.

Ludwig wasn't able to bring himself to stare back, standing up to dust himself off. "Hi, I'm Feliciano!" He pauses in patting his arms of dirt from the floor, looking back to the Italian with a questioning look. Feliciano bites his lip, wide brown eyes staring at Ludwig for a moment before he grins again. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to run into you, but the busboy didn't get these dishes and I didn't have anyone to clean the tables yet since he'd left and the next one is late, and then I figured it'd be fine if I did it myself and—"

"What…?" Ludwig asks, the little man's words swimming around his head with incoherency. He knew Feliciano was speaking English, but he still didn't know what he was trying to say.

Feliciano deflates from his happy state for a moment. "I'm really sorry for running into you—I had too many dishes in hand and couldn't see. My name is Feliciano, I own this restaurant and work with the food, but I had to get some dishes the busboy had missed before he left."

Ludwig nods, taking a moment to glance down at the broken dishes before looking back to the hopeful look on the Italian's face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Blanching, Feliciano fidgets for a moment with a small grin on his face. "I just… you aren't mad, are you?"

"People make mistakes; you didn't see me and I hadn't seen you." Ludwig thought the whole thing was ridiculous—what would his brother say if he'd heard the blond had a run in with a little Italian that actually knocked him over?

"You aren't hurt?" Feliciano seemed worried for a second before brightening. "No, of course you're not! You look big and strong, I couldn't have possibly hurt you!" Ludwig agrees with him, though he still had to wonder how he'd lost his balance badly enough to have someone as small as this Italian knock him over. "Would you like anything to eat? Free of charge!"

Ludwig thought for a moment, only just realizing he didn't know what was served in the restaurant. "What do you have?"

And there it was, Feliciano's impossibly fast way of talking was back and Ludwig contemplated simply leaving. But that wouldn't be very nice, if not certainly rude. Besides, he was getting a free meal.

"… eh, I'll just have spaghetti…" Ludwig was sure he'd heard him say that in his rant on "delicious pastas" he could make. "With meat balls."

Feliciano brightens once again and nods enthusiastically. "Wonderful! I'll be right out with your order—eh…" He pauses, giving the German a confused look and a mumbling "ve~?"

He hadn't realized he never introduced himself. "I'm Ludwig Beilschmidt." He offers his hand, to which Feliciano graciously shook before skipping his way into the kitchen.

Once Ludwig had seated himself, it only hit him just how much he really thought the other man was cute—disregarding the fact he'd broken the plates and simply skipped off as though nothing had happened. He was a man of order, but this Feliciano wasn't very organized. Maybe he was scatterbrained and completely incompetent in a great deal of things (except for cooking. Ludwig couldn't imagine someone who owned a restaurant to be horrible at cooking).

Pushing those thoughts aside at the sight of the Italian man hurrying over to him, Ludwig let loose a small smile. Feliciano was too cute to be upset over, no matter how unorganized he appeared. And that plate of spaghetti looks really good.