The two were in the kitchen. Antonio stood by the pot, twirling a plastic spoon through the pasta. Lovino sat at a chair, elbow on the counter and resting his head on his hand, watching Antonio work. Antonio began to hum a cheerful little tune as he worked, looking every once in a while to his guest. When he did look, though, Lovino couldn't help but notice every little detail about him. Even if Antonio looked wide-awake and ecstatic as he hummed, he had bags under his eyes. How long exactly had Antonio been locked in war, trying to protect Lovino? Wasn't he still at war now? So how could he be making pasta at a time like this?

"Lovi~" Antonio waved a hand in front of Lovino's face, and he snapped back to reality. "Are you already sleepy?"

"No." Lovino scoffed. "Just thinking. Are you almost done making dinner?"

"Yep, here's your pasta!" Antonio presented a bowl of spaghetti, rich tomato sauce and sprinkles of parmesan cheese ladled over it.

"T-Thanks..."

"Mm-hm!" Antonio nodded, carrying his own bowl into the dining room. It was a nice room, Lovino had to admit, once he got a closer look. There was a vase of roses in the center of the table, only proving that Spain really was 'the country of passion'. A few empty wine glasses were laid out. Luckily, there were two separate loveseats, so Lovino didn't have to sit right next to Antonio. When he chose the seat opposite of the Spaniard, though, Antonio gave him such a sad look.

Lovino wasn't a complete jerk, despite what others might have said. And NO, he did not choose to sit with Antonio because of that sad look. Nor did Lovino empathize with him. He just decided to sit wherever the hell he wanted to. Which was next to Antonio.

"Do you like it, Lovi?" Antonio asked, studying Lovino carefully as he took his first bite.

"What do you mean? It's pasta. Of course I like it."

"No, I mean, do you like my cooking?"

"It's... Fine." Lovino answered. "I've had your cooking before. It can't get any worse." Antonio smiled, knowing what Lovino really meant. Lovino took another bite of the pasta. It really was amazing, though. He couldn't remember the last time he ate Antonio's cooking. The tomato sauce was especially delicious, and Lovino could tell from the taste that it was homemade (no, he was NOT some sort of tomato expert, thank you very much; he was a tomato ENTHUSIAST).

"Hold on, I know what'll make dinner even better!" Antonio bounded off the loveseat and returned only seconds later, a bottle of wine in hand. "It's wine I picked up when I was visiting *Puglia!" Lovino scanned over the label. It read Primitivo. He lifted one eyebrow questioningly. "What, what's that look for? Is it because you love it?"

"No. Well..." Lovino coughed. "Do you know how much alcohol Primitivo has?"

"Of course, Lovi! Enough for a fun night!" The vase of roses was only roses and a few shards of porcelain after that. "Hold on Lovi, that's not what I meant!" Antonio said, shaking slightly after narrowly avoiding the huge vase. "I meant that it's going to be a long night, and this might make it more fun... Wait! I didn't mean that, either!"

"Just shut up already, you idiot! I get it!" Lovino said, face burning. He took a deep breath and stared guiltily at the shards of the vase. "I'll have some."

"That's the spirit!" Antonio cheered, seemingly unfazed. He poured some of the wine into Lovino's wineglass, then some into his own. "Now let's make a toast! To us!" Antonio raised his glass, the wine nearly sloshing over.

"No way." Lovino said, taking a sip. He shuddered at the spicy taste of fruit washing over him. He tingled with warmth, already feeling a little dizzy. He took another swig of the drink.

"Don't drink too fast, there." Antonio chuckled, but his glass was already half-drained. No matter how strong the wine was, its taste was still wonderful. "I didn't realize Italian wine was so good!"

"You've had Italian wine before." Lovino said, tipping his glass to catch the last few drops.

"Yeah, but not this kind! It's really good!" Antonio smacked his lips and gave Lovino a grin. Lovino didn't return the grin, but looked on lazily at his empty glass. "You're already done?! Lovi, you're drinking it too fast!" Antonio cried.

"No I'm not." Lovino protested, picking up the bottle and pouring himself some more. Antonio stared on warily.

"Whatever you say, Lovi, but that's enough after that."

"Shut up, I'll be fine." Lovino took another gulp of the wine, blinking at the huge rush of dizziness that accompanied it. Still, he drained the glass quickly, trying to prove the Spaniard wrong.

"L-Lovi! Now you're just trying to worry me!" Antonio snatched the glass from his hand.

"N-No..." Lovino said, hiccuping halfway through the word. "I can take m-more, you jerk!"

"I can see you already turning red." Antonio frowned, a look of concern etching over his face. Lovino was in fact red. Not only that, but he was swaying slightly, and as stated before, slurring his words and hiccuping. No matter how amusing that was for Antonio to see, it was still a cause for him to worry.

"'m not turning red." Lovino mumbled, standing up. "Just shut up. 'm goin' to bed."

"You are?" Antonio asked.

"Y-Yeah. 'nd not because of the wine, because I feel like it." Lovino shuffled around the table and went right to the foot of the stairs. He took one step, wobbled, and nearly fell backwards.

"Wait, Lovino!" Antonio jumped from his seat and put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling. "I'll come with you."

"*Che palle. What makes you think I need help?" Lovino gripped the railing and glanced to Antonio.

"Eh?" The angry glint in Lovino's eyes surprised Antonio for a moment, but it really wasn't all that shocking. Lovino hated to accept help unless he absolutely needed it. Plus, he was really, really stubborn. "I-I'm not trying to help you. I'm just tired and want to go to bed!"

"Whatever." Lovino shook his head, dark locks of hair tumbling over his face. "Just don't do anything to me when you're all wined up." Antonio chuckled.

"Never, Lovi." Lovino struggled to walk (or rather, pull) himself up the stairs with the help of the railing, and every once in a while, a little steadying from Antonio. Finally, he was able to get into the bedroom, push aside the bed curtains, and collapse on the bed. He sank into the fluffy mattress, feeling the silk covers crumple beneath him. "Are you even going to change?" Antonio asked, parting the curtains. He wore a simple red tank top, shorts, and a small smirk to commemorate Lovino's adorable drunken state. Antonio's only response, though, was a sleepy sigh. "Lovi?" Antonio peered over Lovino, who curled up on the bed the opposite way. He was already asleep. Antonio smiled fondly and carefully unbuttoned Lovino's jacket, slipping it off him and tossing it aside. In the hot and lazy summer heat, Antonio fell asleep beside him.

Key:

*Puglia: A city in Southern Italy

*Che palle: An Italian phrase that literally transfers to "What balls", but can be understood as "What a nuisance", "This sucks", or, to put in simpler terms, "Ugh".