A/N ;; Thank you guys so much for all the wonderful reviews! I got seven reviews – that's much better than perhaps the two I was expecting! Thanks again to all those who reviewed, as well as alerted and favourited the story! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this story thus far.

Tell Me Something I Don't Know

…o…

Chapter Two

…o…

Matthew swung the door to the Marionette Café open, carefully carrying Napolitano, who was situated in his arms, inside as Lovino followed shortly after him, looking just as irritated as he had when they had left the flat. Then again, Lovino always looked at least mildly irritated, so Matthew couldn't really say he was surprised. The Canadian moved some of still damp hair out of his eyes as he entered, looking around the café, noticing the few people already situated amongst the dark tables and colourful leather chairs.

Normally, the Marionette wouldn't allow dogs inside, but because Napolitano was such a behaved puppy – something that Matthew took a lot of pride in and showed off about to all the other dog owners he would pass by on his and Napolitano's daily walks – and apparently because Lovino was on good terms with the owner, and had pulled a couple of string, the dog was allowed to roam around as he pleased. Not to mention that a puppy was good for business, too. It brought in more families with children, and they were the real spenders. The owner had even given Napolitano a trinket for his collar with the café's logo on it, for marketing purposes.

Matthew set Napolitano on the ground gently as Lovino walked past him towards the café's open kitchen, where some of the customers could choose to sit and watch the chefs prepare their food and coffee, if they so wished to. One of the other employees behind the counter looked up at their approach, wearing the same uniform they were, save for a few changes to compliment her femininity; a dark skirt to their dark slacks, and a black vest over a white blouse.

"Good morning, Matthew, Lovino," Belle piped up happily, bright green eyes flickering up towards them, one of her hands absently flipping through one of the pages of the magazine in her lap.

Lovino nodded at her in acknowledgement as he walked past her and immediately set to working, taking one of the dishes of food the chefs had prepared and setting it on a tray. Matthew, on the other hand, walked around the counter and went to stand behind Belle, ruffling her hair slightly as he peeked over her shoulder to see what exactly she was reading. "Good morning, Belle," he greeted cheerfully. "What are you looking at?"

Belle mock scowled at him, raising one of her own small hands to ruffle his blond hair in return, tangling her fingers in the soft waves. Her other hand went up to adjust her bright green headband, pushing it slightly higher up her scalp. "'Ten Ways to Make Him Scream Your Name in Bed,'" she said, not embarrassed in the slightest, flipping to the next page. "It's pretty interesting. I would recommend it – but I know most of the moves already." She shrugged.

Matthew did her the favour of blushing for her, gaping slightly, unsure of what to say. Lovino must have caught on to their conversation, because he only rolled his eyes and sent a disapproving frown at Belle and Matthew, shaking his head as he walked away to serve the food. Perhaps Matthew was totally lacking in the art of social skills, but wouldn't it be considered embarrassing to be caught reading an article such as that in a public place? He supposed the times had changed, but even so… "Oh, uh, that's nice…" he muttered.

Belle only grinned up at him and pinched his cheek. "You're so cute, Mattie. I'm just kidding."

There was the sound of soft laughter behind him, and Matthew looked over his shoulder curiously, spying Elizabeta, Belle's flatmate, fixing up some of the cakes that were displayed. She stood up straight, tucking a strand of long brown hair behind her ear, looking over her work, seemingly satisfied with it. "She's only half kidding, really. She's got a date tonight," the Hungarian woman supplied, dusting off her hands on her apron.

"Really?" Matthew asked curiously, looking back at Belle, who had gone back to reading her article. "But… wait, didn't you…? Uh, that other guy…"

"Lovino and my older brother… scared him off…" Belle answered, slightly sheepish. She rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably. "Neither of them really approved."

Matthew nodded in understanding, sympathetic towards Belle's situation. Her older brother, if the occasion called for it, could be quite intimidating. He was one of the most protective brothers Matthew had ever seen – though his own brother came in a close second, as strained as their relationship sometimes was – and Lars' protectiveness didn't only apply for his sister, either. Matthew himself had gotten the treatment a couple times as well. Sometimes, he felt as though he had never really left Alfred. He met enough people that were similar enough to his brother that it was like Alfred was constantly with him, whether Matthew wanted him to be there or not. "Lars does have that effect on people," Matthew agreed. "How long were you two guys together?"

And Matthew couldn't really say that he wasn't surprised that Lovino had pitched in with Lars' efforts, either. He wasn't entirely sure of the past between Lovino and Belle, but he knew they had something together, though whether or not that something was anything significant, he didn't know. He knew they on good terms, at the very least. Elizabeta had never been able to tell him the full story, and Matthew didn't even want to think about asking Lovino himself. He had tried asking Belle, but she had only suggesting talking to Lovino about it, and that was just impossible. But what he did know was that the Italian was just as protective of Belle as Lars was, and God help anyone who didn't treat Belle with the utmost respect.

But that went for all of them, mostly, whether or not Lovino was doing the defending or not. Those customers who didn't have respect for the employees of the Marionette Café usually got hot coffee spilled on their clothes, food intentionally spilled into their laps, and were always, without fail, cussed out by the Marionette's perpetually angry server before being thrown out by Elizabeta.

Needless to say, regular goers of the café knew enough not to screw around with any of its employees, unless they wanted stained clothes and burned skin.

"Six days," Elizabeta answered for Belle, adjusting the orange flower in her hair and sending the two blonds a sweet little smile. Unlike Belle, who couldn't keep a boyfriend that her brother and/or Lovino didn't scare away, Elizabeta had been seeing someone steadily for the past two years, if Matthew remembered correctly. He really wasn't surprised that whichever lucky guy Elizabeta was dating stayed around that long, either, if looks mattered at all. The Hungarian woman was beautiful, with peaches and cream skin, fiery green eyes, long, slightly curly brunette hair, and a figure other women would kill for. She was a prime example of natural beauty.

"Good luck with your date, then," Matthew said, ruffling Belle's hair once again, ever the supportive friend/little brother figure. This time, Belle didn't bother to scowl, and only grinned slightly as she flipped another page in her magazine, muttering her thanks under her breath.

And before Matthew could say anything else, the little bell attached to the café's door rung, signaling the arrival of a new customer, and Matthew felt his shoulders being gripped by a pair of dainty hands, pushing him away from the kitchen and the source of his distractions quickly. "You've got a customer," Elizabeta said in his ear as she pushed him along, kicking the back of the Canadian's leg slightly as she noticed he wasn't picking up his own feet.

Matthew released a little sigh, reluctantly picking up his feet as Elizabeta continued to push him forward, not loosening her vice grip on his shoulders in the slightest. "I'm not allowed to waste any more time?" the Canadian asked, grinning slightly.

Elizabeta mirrored the grin, giving him one final push towards the table. "Just get to work, Matt," she said, laughing as she turned around and headed in the opposite direction.

"Yes, ma'am," Matthew muttered, giving a little one-handed salute to her retreating back before turning back towards the man who had just entered the café.

The man who had entered was wearing a loose white shirt and bright red shorts, a light sheen of sweat present on his sun-kissed skin, slightly curly hair falling into his eyes. He didn't look that old, Matthew thought as he approached the table the man had situated himself at. He couldn't have been anything past thirty, if even that, at the very most. He looked up at Matthew's approach, and the Canadian found his gaze locking onto bright green eyes, set above a perky nose and a wide, honest smile.

"Good morning," Matthew greeted, making sure to put enough cheer into his voice despite the earliness of the morning. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet. No one was supposed to sound this happy before at least ten thirty, at least. However, Matthew dismissed the thought from his mind, taking out his trusty notebook from the back pocket of his uniform, preparing a pen and resting it against the open pad. "Are you ready to order?"

The stellar brightness of the man's smile never faded as he looked back to the menu in his hand for a moment, humming thoughtfully. Matthew personally thought that the man was smiling far too happily so early in the morning, but kept his thoughts quiet. Instead, he watched as the man looked around the coffee shop with roving eyes. "Is…" he trailed off, and if Matthew didn't know any better, he would thought that the man sounded almost hesitant.

"Is…?" Matthew repeated confusedly, lowering his notepad.

"Is…" The man looked over his shoulder, and Matthew noticed his eyes light up with recognition. "Oh, I'm sorry, niño, but I usually have him take my order."

He raised a hand and pointed a sun-kissed finger over Matthew's shoulder. Slowly, the Canadian turned around, and his eyes followed the general direction the finger was pointing in, up to behind the counter, to where only one person stood, odd hair curl hanging in his face as he bent over the tabletop, pitcher of milk in his hand as he focused on whatever it was that he was working on.

Matthew turned back to the man, an eyebrow hiking up slightly. "Oh, you mean Lovino?" he asked.

The man nodded quickly, that bright smile still stuck on his face. "Si, Lovi!" he said. "Oh, it's no offense to you, niño. He knows how I get everything."

"It's not a problem at all," Matthew insisted, shaking his head, not offended in the least. In fact, Lovino had managed to unintentionally give him a few more minutes of break, and he had only just started working. It was a win-win situation, really. He pocketed his pen, asking the man to wait just a moment before rushing back towards the counter to inform Lovino of the change.

"Hey, Lovino," Matthew began, setting his notepad on the counter. When Lovino made no acknowledgement of his presence, Matthew lifted the notepad and smacked it down on the counter, the metal rings making a rather loud clang against the marble surface of the counter. Lovino didn't even flinch in response. "Hey," he repeated, taking a step closer to his flatmate.

The Italian's head was bowed in concentration, busy with his latte art for another customer. He held the small pitcher of milk in his hand, carefully moving it back and forth as he formed a milky, leaf-like pattern over the coffee. Matthew was rather impressed by Lovino's careful intricacy of the pattern. He hadn't known that Lovino had such steady hands. Of course, he knew his flatmate was an artist – not exactly like Feliciano was, exactly, but an artist nonetheless – but he had never been able to see any of Lovino's works. Whenever the Italian painted in the apartment, his bedroom door would be locked, and before Matthew even got the chance to ask if he could see anything Lovino had made, he would always rip up his work, growling frustratingly under his breath.

Matthew wondered how much Lovino hated his work if he wouldn't let it be seen by anybody other than himself.

Before Matthew had a chance to step any closer to the Italian, his hand raised to poke his shoulder in an attempt to get his attention, Lovino snapped, "What?" He still hadn't bothered to look up from his work. His dark eyebrows were knitted in concentration, and while another person might have slipped up and ruined the pattern from the sudden interruption – for example, Matthew himself – Lovino had managed to keep himself perfectly still, managing to keep his hands moving just as precisely as they had before Matthew had come near him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Matthew mumbled, shooting his flatmate an apologetic glance. "Um, listen. You need to take this guy's order."

"Do it yourself, idiot," Lovino replied shortly.

Matthew shrugged off the insult. He was much too used to Lovino's way of speaking to be offended by it anymore. "Yeah, I was going to… but he specifically asked for you."

Lovino set the pitcher of milk back down on the counter. Matthew watched him as he set the cup on one of the plastic trays, and he almost felt bad that the intricate leaf was going to be ruined when someone drank it.

"Who is it?" the Italian asked, finally looking up at Matthew and meeting his eyes.

Matthew blinked and noticed that Lovino was staring at him, waiting patiently – for once. He might have taken a picture of this amazing sight if he had had the opportunity. This was truly a once in a lifetime experience. "Oh, it's that guy, over there," Matthew said instead, flicking a thumb over his shoulder towards the man sitting by the window, who was now chatting away on his phone.

Lovino's eyes followed the direction of Mathew's thumb until his eyes fell on the man in question. He didn't say anything, nor did his facial expression change in the slightest, but Matthew noticed a subtle change in his eyes. It was hard to place, and if he had known Lovino for any shorter of a time than he had and hadn't made a habit of occasionally trying to figure out his Italian flatmate, then he probably would have missed it. However, when Lovino looked back at him and found out that he was being watched, that little look disappeared instantly. Without another word, Lovino brushed past Matthew and headed towards the customer.

From the corner of his eye, Matthew watched as the man flipped his cellphone shut and looked up at Lovino, an even larger smile forming on his face than the one he had showed Matthew earlier when the Italian reached his table.

"Looks like Lovino's got a regular," Belle commented from the side.

It looked more like Lovino had another puppy, was more like it, Matthew thought, looking back to see Belle setting down her tray before once again shifting his eyes towards Lovino and the customer. The look of adoration in the man's eyes as he looked up at Lovino was so painfully obvious. There was no way in hell that Lovino hadn't noticed that.

Belle crossed her arms over her chest as she stood beside him, watching the two interact. "Something tells me he isn't just here for the food," she muttered, humming thoughtfully. Matthew turned his own eyes away from the pair, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable about the fact that he had been watching Lovino and the tanned man speak so blatantly. He and Belle could have at least tried to be a little bit more inconspicuous – they could have tried to hide behind a table, or maybe the counter.

Damning Belle for igniting his own curiosity once again, Matthew's eyes landed on Lovino and the man. He turned to the side slightly, looking to the pair out of the corner of his eye, hoping that his position wouldn't give away that he was very obviously watching his flatmate and the customer's every move.

The menu was laid out on the table, the man pointing out something he wanted, shooting attempted subtle glances at Lovino every once in a while, who just nodded as he spoke and took down his order. After a while, the man gradually raised a hand to set it on Lovino's arm, and even Matthew, despite the amount of distance between them, could see the slight stiffening of Lovino's shoulders. He thought the Italain would just shake the hand off – or slap it off, which was a more likely reaction – but, contrary to Matthew's expectations, he only paused, looked the man in the eye, and leaned closer over the table.

"Gah, I don't know!" Belle made a little frustrated sound, raising her hands in defeat, shoulders slumping dramatically. Matthew looked back at her, eyebrow hiking up to his hairline. "I'm not an expert in this kind of thing – that's Eliza's job." She shrugged slightly, taking one of the trays into her hands. "Maybe I'm just overthinking this," she muttered.

"If it makes you feel better, I don't know either," Matthew offered, matching the little smile Belle sent him over her shoulder as she walked away. The Canadian blinked, noticing that Lovino was already walking back towards the kitchen to give the man's order to the chef.

"So," Matthew began slowly as Lovino walked past him to hand the chef the slip of paper, hands linked behind his back. "You've got a regular, eh?"

Lovino turned back to look at him. "A what?" he asked, his voice irritable.

"Ah," Matthew mumbled, sheepishly looking away. "You know, a regular? Someone who will keep coming back?"

Lovino's hazel eyes narrowed before he pushed past Matthew once again. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered. "Get back to work."

It was nearly midnight when Lovino, Matthew and Napolitano arrived back at the apartment. Even Napolitano was wobbling shakily as Matthew took the keys out from his pocket, his drooping eyes making it hard for him to distinguish which key was the one for their apartment.

"Hurry up, you bastard," Lovino moaned, shutting his eyes and leaning against the wall to support his weight.

"I'm trying. Just give me a second," Matthew replied, grinding his teeth together in an attempt to keep himself awake. He could have fallen asleep in the hallway and had absolutely no reservations about it if he knew Lovino wouldn't try to kick his ass for doing so.

Matthew grinned tiredly as he finally located the correct key, shoving it into the knob and turning.

"I am so tired," Lovino muttered, slipping into the apartment the second the door was wide enough for him to fit through. Napolitano obediently followed after his owner, lying down beside the Italian's feet as he collapsed down on the couch with a groan.

Sighing, Matthew pulled the key out of the knob and closed the door behind him. He tossed the keys onto the coffee table before falling down onto the couch beside Lovino, quickly turning on the television with a press of the remote. He wasn't sure why exactly he wanted to watch TV when he was so damn sleepy, but it was a routine, and Matthew wasn't one to break routines.

Lovino grunted as Matthew sat beside him, and it looked as though he were standing to leave. However, after a moment, he just muttered a few words under his breath and shifted further over to the side, making it so that he and Matthew weren't sitting so close together, so that their arms weren't brushing against each other anymore. Not noticing this in the slightest, Matthew flipped through the channels, feeling his eyes drooping dangerously. Lovino picked up one of the decorative pillows and pressed it over his face. "I'm taking a shower first," he said, his words muffled by the pillow.

"Yeah, okay, sure," Matthew yawned, leaning back against the cushions.

Matthew skimmed through the channels and finally settled on a late night talk show. He laughed at some of the jokes, listened to the discussions about the latest news, but soon, his eyelids began to close on him. It happened several times, Matthew falling into a light sleep, before he would jolt and force his eyes open again and realize that he had fallen asleep again. However, before the Canadian could think to haul himself off the couch and make it to the bathroom or his bedroom, he closed his eyes one last time, and was dead to the world.

Matthew didn't know how long it had been since he had fallen asleep, but if it weren't for the soft movements near his ankles, he might have been able to sleep through the night and only wake up in the morning. He groaned softly, rubbing his eyes tiredly behind his glasses before looking down to see Napolitano shifting his weight so he could rest his head on Matthew's shoes. "Aww, Napo," the Canadian mumbled groggily. "Why'd you go and do that, huh? You woke me up…"

He was about to sit up and force himself towards the shower when he felt a peculiar weight on his shoulder.

Matthew looked to the side, curious to see what exactly was resting on his shoulder, and it was only shock that stopped him from doing a superhuman backflip away from the couch like the characters did in Alfred's video games that he played so much.

Lovino was leaning on his shoulder. The pillow he had put over his face was on the ground, perhaps having fallen over when the Italian had tilted over to Matthew while he slept. His cheek was pressed into Matthew's shoulder, his chin angled up to show parted lips and allowing escaped breaths to stroke Matthew's cheeks every couple of seconds, sending a hot blush springing across the Canadian's cheeks.

Matthew stiffened. "Uh, Lovino," he mumbled, too surprised to say much of anything else. He felt like jerking away, but then again, that might be too rude.

A small frown formed on Lovino's lips and he shifted his head against Matthew's shoulder, angling his chin just a little bit higher, making it so that his lips were dangerously close to brushing against Matthew's ear.

Not liking the chills that ran up his spine each time Lovino's breaths would tickle his ear as he breathed, Matthew knew it was time to get the Italian off him, whether he ended up waking up Lovino or not. Slowly, he tried to lower his shoulder, taking another decorative pillow in his hand. Maybe he could just lower his shoulder far enough, and then replace the pillow with it…

Nah…

Matthew jerked away from Lovino quickly, feeling uncomfortable with the Italian being so close to him after weeks of Lovino seemingly staying as far away from Matthew as he could, feeling uncomfortable with the strange feeling that had been gathering in his gut, and not very comfortable with losing all feeling in his arm. Lovino immediately fell to the side, his face falling onto the pillow. His hazel eyes shot open on impact, and he sat up quickly, looking around the apartment. Matthew tried and failed to suppress a snigger at the way one side of Lovino's hair, the side that had been leaning against his shoulder, was jutting up.

Matthew was unsuccessfully trying to muffle his laughter with a hand against his mouth when Lovino's eyes turned to him, a hard glare set on his face. "What?" he hissed.

"You were–" Matthew paused to catch his breath. "You were going to take a shower, remember?"

Lovino nodded jerkily, looking away from Matthew a moment after he spoke, groaning as he rubbed a hand over his face. He stood up off the couch, stepping over Napolitano as he headed for the shower, closing the bathroom door behind him with a hard slam.

And Matthew was left alone in the living room – save for Napolitano. He looked down at the dog, who was looking up at him in return, woken up by Lovino's sudden movements and the slamming of the door. "At least you don't use me as a pillow," Matthew mumbled, stroking the pup behind his dark ear.

Apparently, Matthew had spoken too soon, because the second he began to stroke the dog's ear, Napolitano laid back down on his feet and closed his eyes, snuffing. Matthew's shoulders fell dramatically in disappointment, somehow not at all surprised with his predicament.

He frowned slightly. "Nah, you two are the same."

A/N ;; I can see Romano as the type of person to have decorative pillows on their couch or bed. He just strikes me as that way. I'm exactly sure why.

Behold my cafe naming skills. I'm an expert, clearly.

Akakata7: Thank you for the wonderful compliments! I love seeing repeated reviewers. Anyway, I'm glad that I was able to satisfy your cravings.

Gardyloo: I didn't even think about the crust of Italian bread… Okay, let's just say that Romano doesn't like eating the crusts of other breads that are not Italian. There. That fixes that, doesn't it? XD Frankly, I'm not a breadoligist, either – and do those even exist? Like, can you go to school for that kind of thing? (Oh, that was such a stupid question.) Thanks for your review! It made me laugh.

Gah, I haven't made my move yet. I'm still stuck in Manitoba, and the mosquitoes are horrible! Like, it was fine until like two days ago! Now, I can't even go inside without being swarmed. Ugggh. I hate bug spray. I hate mosquitoes. I don't really like bugs in general.

Okay, enough complaining. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter – I made it double the length of the first chapter, just for you guys.

Stay awesome, guys.