Happy Father's Day!

As promised, here is a much longer chapter one!

See how there aren't too many (hopefully no) mistakes in this chapter? That's thanks to my lovely beta, MoonClaimed. She did a lot of work on this chapter. That'll teach me to write at four in the morning! (No it won't.)

I own nothing.


"What do you see?" Lovino, hidden in the bushes, demanded of his younger brother.

"There's a cute little kitty sleeping under the bush!"

"Damn it Feliciano, give me those!" Lovino snatched the bright pink binoculars his brother was holding. "…Did you have to get the fucking pink ones?"

"Ve? " Feliciano blinked at confusion, " Of course, the only other option was brown. Brown's so dull!"

"God Feli, you're so fucking gay." Lovino rolled his eyes, lifting the glasses to meet them. "Now let's see what he's up to…"

"What's he doing?"

Lovino peered through the binoculars into the other Nation's window. "It looks like he's cooking something…there's a big pot on the stove."

"That's good! We like to cook!"

"Yeah, but not like America. Have you seen the shit he eats?"

"Ve…What's he doing now?"

"Still cooking."

The older Italy checked. "Still cooking."

There were a moment of silence.

"…What about now?"

Lovino lowered the binoculars and turned to face Feliciano. "Mio dio, he's still cooking. He's going to continue to cook until he's done. And when that happens, I'll be sure to tell you. But until then, he's. Still. Fucking. Cooking."

"…Hey Lov-"

"If you finish that sentence, I swear I'm going to-"

"Yo, Italies! How's it going?"

Lovino shrieked at the sudden appearance of their stalkee with pitcher of lemonade and two glasses in hand. "Please don't hurt me! I'm a relative to your country!"

"I think he's done cooking, fratello," Feliciano added helpfully.

America, oblivious to the byplay, grinned at the two. "I didn't know the two of you bird watched."

"It's not what it-wait, what?"

"You looked hot out here so I thought I'd bring you some lemonade," America lifted the pitcher he was holding.

Lovino stared at the pitcher before frantically turning to his brother. "He's on to us!"

The Italian brothers whipped out their white flags, turned on their heel, and began running for the hills.

"Huh? Where are you guys going? You just got here!" America yelled at their retreating forms. "I'm making pasta!"

Feliciano and Lovino stopped on a dime, faced each other, and quickly ran backwards.

"What did you say?" Feliciano asked with hopeful eyes.

"…I'm making pasta?"

Feliciano began to tear up. "He likes pasta…Fratello, he likes pasta! That's definitely proof, right?"

Lovino nodded. "Definitely. What Italian doesn't like pasta?"

"So…are you guys coming, or what?"

Feliciano nodded enthusiastically, walking towards the front door. "I would love to have some of your pasta!"

"There will be tomato sauce, right?" Lovino asked suspiciously.

"Duh! Who eats pasta without sauce?"

Lovino beamed, sharing a smile with his brother.

"I already poured it out of the jar, so I just need to nuke it in the microwave."

Lovino stopped short, a horrified look crossing his face. "Did you just say that you eat jarred tomato sauce?"

"Yeah," America said. "It's the only way I ever make it."

"I think I'm having heart palpitations…" Lovino said faintly. Feliciano gently guided Lovino to a chair and handed him a brown paper bag that was lying on the table.

"It's ok, Lovi, I'll take care of it." Feliciano turned back to America. "Ve, America, have you ever tried to make it fresh? You know, from scratch?"

"I considered it once," the Superpower admitted, "but the only way I was ever taught to cook was by Arthur, so I thought it would be safer to just buy it already made."

"He has a point," Feliciano whispered to his brother.

"Fucking eyebrows messed up our kid's heritage. That's it; I'm taking matters into my own hands." Lovino stood up abruptly. "Ok, bastard, where do you keep the essentials?"

"Fratello! " Feliciano said, scandalized, "You can't speak to him like that! He's only a child!"

"Hey, I haven't been a kid since the 1700s!" America pouted.

"You're right," Romano said, ignoring America's outcry. "I'm being a terrible mother. Father! Father dammit!" Lovino took a deep breath. "America, where in your kitchen do you keep the essential ingredients?"

"Essential ingredients?"

"You know, tomatoes, olive oil, onions, parsley, basil….Every Italian kitchen has these!"

"But we're in America...I'm America. I don't have that kind of stuff lying around in the house. At least I don't think I do…And even if I do, I have no idea where."

Lovino stared, eye twitching. "I blame that bastard England."

Feliciano, for once in his life, took charge. "You search for ingredients, I'll head to the corner market and to get some seasonings, and you can call me with a list of things you need."

"Get some fresh mozzarella and a loaf of Italian bread too. We can make some bruschetta."

"I'm on my way!" Feliciano

"Hold on a sec, why are we getting these things? The meal's already made," America protested.

"There's no way in Hell I'm letting you eat that merda! I'm making it fresh right now."

"But that'll take hours! I want to eat right now!"

"I don't want to hear it. That canned abomination is not meant for a palate such as yours."

"Uh...ok…" America said before turning to leave.

"And just where do you think you're going, mister?"

"TV? Video games? Bed?"

"No, I won't allow it. You need to learn how to make this like a good Italian."

"But I'm America…"

"WHEN YOU ARE IN MY HOUSE YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME!"

"But Romano…this is my house …"

"Don't get smart with me. You are going to learn how to make this sauce, and you are going to like it," Romano said sternly.

"Yes, Mom" America said, rolling his eyes.

Lovino's heart skipped a beat. "Did you just call me 'Mom'?" America blinked and then hesitantly nodded. "This is the proudest day of my life," Lovino wiped a tear away and whipped out his phone.

"Feli guess what? Ame-Yeah yeah, that's great. But you need to listen- I don't care that the petunia's are on sale, will you please just shut up and-Are you crying? For fuck's sake Feliciano, how old are you? Ok, ok, get the plant if it will make you happy. Now can I please talk? I did call you for a reason, you know." Dramatic pause. "America called me Mom!"

A cry of joy was heard from the other end of the line. "I know! He's taking it so well. I mean it's only been a day and he's already accepted me!"

America stared confused as the elder brother spoke rapidly breaking in and out of Italian for a few minutes before switching topics.

"I need to go, but I think we need some parmesan reggiano. I couldn't find any in the fridge. Can you pick some up?"

"Romano?"

"Hold on America, I'm on the phone. Yeah, you know the one we like."

"But I have the cheese."

Lovino covered the phone with one hand and turned to the taller Nation. "Are you sure? I didn't see any."

"Yeah, I grated it myself a bit before you showed up."

Romano stared in awe. "Did you hear that Feli? He grated the cheese. All by himself! And it was Italian cheese! I know! England didn't fuck up entirely! There's still hope! They grow up so quickly. Yeah, alright. Ciao."

America gazed at Lovino before glancing warily around the room. "Am I being Punk'd or something? You're kind of starting to freak me out a little. I don't think I've never seen you happy."

"It's just, I've been so neglectful. But you, you remember your roots. And it makes me so proud." Lovino's voice faltered for a moment and he quickly rubbed his eye.

"…Right. So…about that sauce…"

"Si, si, the sauce. Come here and watch what I do."


"Lovino, America! I'm back! How's the sauce coming?" Feliciano shouted as he struggled through the door with arms full of groceries.

"Feliciano, come quick! You have to see this!"

"Is something wro-Mio dio, is he stirring the sauce?"

"Yeah," Lovino said smiling.

"All by himself?"

"All by himself. He picked it up pretty quickly, too."

Feliciano watched in wonder as America stirred with purpose. "The pasta, the cheese, the sauce…he must be our little brother!"

"It is starting to look like it, isn't it?"

"But then why didn't we know about him? And why is he all the way across the ocean and not by us?"

"I have no idea. But from now on, it's up to us to raise him. We'll teach him what it's like to be an Italian."

"You mean to run away from anything that comes our way?"

"Ye-No! No, America is strong; he will be the force behind our empire."

"Then maybe he can teach us not to run away from battle?"

"Let's be honest for a moment, Feli, no one can teach us that."

"Ve…"

"Hey Italies," America said with a grin as he turned to the brothers, "This was actually pretty fun. As long as I'm getting back to my roots, maybe I'll ask Germany to come over soon. I have a lot of German in me, after all."

Lovino froze before turning to glareat his brother. "You didn't."