Creeeeeeek

I winced as the door opened. This felt like a forbidden act, leaving the room I'd been given. Even if I was under the supervision of Italy… actually, that made it seem like is was even more forbidden to me. There was no way America, no matter how fun loving he was, would've approved of me going against his orders to go make pasta with the red headed nation in his own kitchen.

I wondered what would happen, should America catch Italy and I in the act of pasta making. Perhaps he would decide to be cool with it and ask to chow down with us. If he chose that and the pasta was good enough maybe he'd end up being happy with our decision. Or maybe he'd just give us a slap on the wrist, reprimanding us for doing something we knew we could get in trouble for doing. It was also possible that he could become angry I'd gone against his word as well as letting someone into his house without permission. That could end in both Italy and I getting in a huge amount of trouble with not only him but, possibly, a whole slue of other nations as well.
Italy must've noticed how tense I was because he suddenly hugged me, laughing slightly at how quickly my face turned red from the gesture. "Relax bella~(1)" he said. "If we get in trouble I'll take the blame! And wow! Your face is really red! It's kind of like a tomato!"

My blush must've deepened because Italy started laughing a little more. I wasn't used to getting surprise hugs. Hell, I usually pushed away physical contact from the irrational discomfort is gave. It wasn't that I disliked physical contact it was just… it made me nervous and skittish as hell. I couldn't explain why it made me feel that way but I had felt that way about it as long as I could remember. "Ah… I-Italy…" I said, hopping he would realize he hadn't let go of me and that I'd like him to.

"Hmmm? Is something wrong Marissa?"

"C-could you please let go of me?" I asked.

"Oh… I see!" he said, letting go and seeming to realize something. "You're like Mr. Japan aren't you?"

"Huh?" I asked, confused by what he could mean by that question.

"You like your personal space like Mr. Japan does!" Italy said with a nod. "Is that right?"

"Oh, uh, I suppose that's as good a way of putting it as any other is," I said, slightly taken aback by how easily Italy had managed to figure out and compare the situations. "Now… to the kitchen?"

"Yea!" Italy exclaimed, picking up and waving the pot full of ingredient he had.

The two of us began exploring the house and eventually found our way to the kitchen, somehow never coming across Tony. As Italy began boiling the water we would be using I looked around the kitchen, shocked at how many different things were in it. Drawers and cabinets were filled with different things that could be used to make many and different fantastic meals. And yet, America always ate out or just ate hamburgers. It was unfathomable to see all of the different cooking utensils and ingredients he had.

I suddenly got an idea as I trifled through the different spices and seasonings. I turned to Italy with a curious expression on my face. Sure the idea was about the lowest I could go on attempting to suck up to the countries, but I really had no idea what they had planned for me. If I could possibly make them like me even in the slightest I could end up better off. True, I was looking out for myself but I didn't think that was such a bad idea. "Italy~ do you think the other countries would like it if I made cookies to bring to the meeting?"

Italy blinked before grinning. "Yea! I think they would like it a lot!" he said, looking excited at the idea. "You can bake?"

"Well… not extensively," I said, looking to the side. It was true. I was, by no mean, anywhere close to being able to be called a cook or baker. But I knew how to make cookies. And people seemed to like it when I made cookies in the past. "I've made a cake once before and it turned out… alright. But I've made cookies tons of times and they tend to come out pretty good."

"Oh! What kind of cookies?" Italy asked, looking truly interested in my baking endeavors.

"Um, let's see…" I said, attempting to recall what kind of cookies I'd made in the past. "I've made chocolate chip, chocolate chip with peanut butter chips, and just white chocolate chip cookies… they're all the same recipe, just switching out the different types of chips. I think in this case I'd just make chocolate chip though…"

"Sound delizioso!(2)" Italy said happily, the water finally coming to a boil.

I smiled and began getting the different ingredients I'd need. I'd used the recipe enough times that I knew it almost by heart, granted exact measurements weren't going to be completely followed. If a few teaspoons of this and that were left out or added who would know any difference? Sure, it would be my first attempt without the recipe at my side but it's not like anything major could wrong, right?

"Hmmm… was it teaspoons or tablespoons of baking soda…" I murmured quietly as I tried to recall the recipe. Um… I'll go with teaspoons just to be safe. Better to little than too much. And I'm making a triple batch since there's so many people… so I'll go with three teaspoons of baking soda! Same with salt too! And ah… about seven cup of flour? Yea! That sounds about right! It may be tad bit too much though… um… I'll just make sure the last cup has a bit less than the other ones do!"

I felt proud of myself for being able to recall the recipe so well. I quickly went to the cabinet I'd seen flour in and grabbed a bag of it. I jumped back in surprise, crying out from the other bags suddenly beginning to come forward, stopping as they took the place of the bag I'd taken, a new one now in the back of the cabinet. "Geeze… it-it's like an assembly line or something!" I said, standing on my toes to get a better look in.

What I saw made me suddenly think of all the storage rooms one would see if they watched extreme couponing shows. America had excessive amounts of everything. It was the most extreme case of bulk buying I'd ever seen. I shook my head and blinked, not really sure how else to react. "Are you alright Marissa?" Italy asked, walking over to where I was.

"Oh, yea! I'm fine," I said. "I was just startled."

"Oh, okay. Well, the pasta will be ready soon!" Italy said, looking excited. "I've already started prepping the sauce too!"

I grinned. "Sounds great!" I said, looking forward to the food.

Soon enough I'd recalled the rest of the recipe and had mixed all the ingredients together. It had been a bit of a messy process and I had blotches of flour on me but I was absolutely sure that the cookies would turn out great. As the first pan of cookies came out of the oven and the second went in Italy yelled out happily. "Pasta~"
I grinned and closed the oven. That had to mean the food was ready. "Yum! This is going to be awesome!" I said, going over to the table Italy had put the two bowl of pasta on.

The smell was intoxicating. Basil mixing with oregano that mixed with the garlic. And the distinct scent of tomato and Italian Sausage along with a few select vegetable. It was a smell you just wanted to melt into. I sat down, twirled my fork into the spaghetti and ate some. If the smell was good then the taste, it was amazing. The distinct feeling of being homemade not only gave it its own perfection of it own but added to the wondrous taste the sauce held. It was possibly the best pasta sauce I'd ever had. It was slightly sweet yet had bit of a bite from the sausage. All of it mixed together gave a taste filled with richness of culture. "Mmmm~" I said, discovering a completely new love for pasta.

"You like?" Italy asked, looking quite pleased with himself as he ate his serving.

"I love it," I said, taking another fork of it. "It's so… so… yummy!"

Italy chuckled, probably not being used to that terminology to describe the masterpiece he'd made. "I'm glad you like it Marissa!" he said.

I smiled happily before hearing a beep. I sighed, not wanting to leave the food but getting up anyway to get the cookies out of the oven. In went another pan. This was going to be a huge amount of cookies, but that was fine considering there would be so many people. I grabbed a couple of the already baked cookies and went back to the table. "I know it's a strange combination… cookies and pasta that is. But have one," I said, holding one of the cookies out for Italy.
"Ah~" Italy said, greatfully taking the cookie. "Grazi!(3)"

He took a bite of the still warm cookie and smiled. "You like it?" I asked, hoping I'd gotten the recipe right.

Italy nodded, his smile large and happy. "It's fantastico!(4)" he said.

I smiled, happy I hadn't messed up the recipe. "I'm so happy to hear that!" I exclaimed.

"I smell cookies!"

I jumped up startled. America can running into the kitchen, seemingly sniffing out the baking cookies, smiling like a little kid would on Christmas morning. He stopped, dead in his tracks, when he saw the mess that had been made and that I was sitting in the kitchen, eating food that had been prepared with his food and in his kitchen without his permission, with an uninvited Italy munching on one of the tracked down cookies. "Um… hi America," I said, not sure how he might react.

1: Beautiful
2: Delicious
3: Thank you
4: Fantastic
Describing the taste and smell of something is surprisingly difficult o.O And mwahaha, bow to my awesome cliff hanger skills...

Prussia: Your skills are nowhere near as mine! I AM awesome Prussia after all!

...Fine then. Oh! And two updates in one day? Boo-ya! I wouldn't get to used to that though xD Only happened cause I'm at home sick and had nothing else to do... okay, maybe I had homework but I've done so much backwork today already TT^TT Don't give me that look Germany!

Germany: Homework. NOW.

*Le sigh* Fine..