Feli's stomach let out a soft but angry roar.

Luddy glanced up from his garden where he had been weeding seconds ago. "Do you want me to make you dinner? It's-" Ludwig glanced down at his leather wristwatch "-six o'clock; time for dinner anyways."

"I'll make you food! If it's any way to repay you!" Feli said earnestly. He honestly didn't mind, and besides, Feli enjoyed cooking, so it would be fun to cook for Luddy.

"Well, I guess you can. . ." Luddy seemed hesitant.

"What's wrong?"

"I. . . It doesn't appeal to me to have a mess made in my kitchen," Luddy said. Feli remembered the drive to the house, when Luddy had snapped at him for breathing on the windows of the car. Feli didn't really want to be yelled at-hey, who did?

"Okay. Let's go out to eat, then~! I know some really good places!"

Luddy rose to his full height and shifted around on the toes of his feet. "I don't know. . ."

"C'mon, it'll be fun~!"

"I'm not really a fan of Italian food, no offense. I like more of the sausage and potato kind of foods."

Feli gasped dramatically, and froze for a moment, then burst straight back into his usual babble: "Well, then, you obviously haven't gone to the right place!"

Luddy finally sighed and shrugged in defeat. "Alright. Where is this restaurant of yours?"

"Ve~! It's a date~! Let's go~!"

"A date?" Luddy asked, but Feli missed the look of surprise on his face. He had already begun his run around to the front of the house where the black jeep that had started the whole fiasco was parked. He hopped in, and so did Luddy, when he caught up. No one can run faster than Feli when he's hungry and food is being offered.

Luddy started the car and turned in his seat to face his bouncing . . . friend. "So. How do we get to this place?"

"Well, uh, don't you have a, um, JPS?" Feli asked uncertainly, like he didn't know exactly what he was saying.

". . . You mean a GPS?" Luddy scrutinized him.

"Uh, yeah!" He laughed a little forcefully. "That's what I meant. It's called Bianchi's. Can you, erm, find it?"

"Yeah. Haven't you ever seen a GPS before?"

"W-well, I'm h-homeless, remember?" Feli stuttered, feeling cornered and flustered.

Luddy blushed. "I-I'm sorry, I forgot." He turned forward again and shifted the car into gear. "Let's just go to dinner."

Feli tried to tame his embarrassment at his own stupidity as they rode on by pinching his hand. By the time they arrived, his hand was red in that area. Feli shoved it in his pocket and prayed Luddy wouldn't notice if he had to use that hand.

He followed Luddy into the pizzeria, close enough to be a shadow. The owners of the restaurant knew Feli pretty well; they let him loiter since they knew he had nowhere else to go. It was the first place he had come looking for a job after. . . No, Feli had resolved not to think about it, and he wouldn't start now.

But the Bianchi family hadn't had any openings. It was family run, so all the jobs were filled by members of the family. No one else was needed, because the lot of them was so big. There was Abrielle, Salvatorio, Matteo, Horatia, Leone, and the two parents, Sabrina and Dominico. Somehow, Feli managed to memorize all their names and nicknames and ages and interests by heart.

The building was completely brick. The air was stuffy inside, even with the multiple fans running overhead from the fires used to cook the pizza.

They were greeted at the door by Abrielle, who was 17. Only two years younger that Feli, she was pretty and sweet and gentle and everything you'd expect to see in someone perfect. That was on the outside, though. Inside, Abrielle could still be sweet. It's only that she was sweet in a very violent way.

"Feliciano. Someone else. I heard about the accident. Is this your boyfriend?" she asked in a monotone with a bored expression to match, only a slight wrinkle of her nose at the word boyfriend. Feli ignored it. "Table 27."

As Feli trudged over to the table she had assigned them, he replied, "Not my boyfriend" with a shy smile.

She seemed to show a little more interest at details of their relationship, as she raised an eyebrow and said, "Oh?"

This only made Feli blush more. He hoped Luddy didn't notice. Luddy probably couldn't have seen anyways. His seat was angled away from Feli when he blushed.

Feli sat down across from Luddy already knowing exactly what he wanted. "Chicken alfredo with a water and pizza frita for desert, please," he said before he could even be handed a menu..

Abrielle scribbled in a notebook and gave Luddy a menu before sauntering off to the kitchen.

"What's good?" Luddy asked. "I mean, besides the chicken alfredo."

Feli thought for a moment. "The pizza's always good. Unless you don't like flat crust. They put all kinds of things on the pizzas!" His excitement escalated as he continued to blab about Italian foods while Luddy stared at him intently. He talked so long, when Abrielle came back, she chose for Luddy. After waiting for five minutes for Feli to stop talking, no less.

He talked through the whole dinner and barely touched his food, ending up with a to-go box in each hand (one for the pasta and one for the pizza frita). Feli's speech slowed when they got back in the car, having now run out of things to talk about bnot his point.

"Hey, Luddy?" Feli asked softly.

Luddy wrinkled his nose at the nickname. "Ja?"

"Thank you for tonight. It was really nice." Feli leaned his head against the window and thought he heard an "I liked it, too" before his eyes shut and locked him into a peaceful, happy sleep.

Author's Note: This was kind of just a fun chapter I added for personal amusement. Not much purpose in this. I've been wanting to have Feli cook for Luddy since the beginning (which ended up not happening), but I also realized this story didn't have much flirting or stuff like that. I guess that's a good thing, because you don't want the characters to fall in love right away. And they've only known each other for a week.

WOAH, BIG PARAGRAPH. OKAY.

I really haven't outlined an actually plot (like I have for the rest of my stories . . . with lots of details), so I'm just going into this as blindly as everyone else. THE CHARACTERS HAVE CONSUMED MY SOUL.

And yes, pizza frita is good. Pizza dough fried and rolled in powdered sugar. Bianchi's is a real place. My family owns it, actually...but it's not my family in the story.

Moving on, I went to perform with my awesome jazz/piano skills with my band. I really don't like early mornings. If I could, I'd probably be nocturnal. This thing I had, it went from 6:45 A.M. to 8:00 P.M. But I got sugar, so who cares, right?

For HetaFruitsOuranHp321: Wanna guess where I went? Somewhere special. Think sugar. Well known place.

For LoolieRocksLobster: You already know where I went, so I don't really have to tell you, do I?

All my other Internet Friends (that means anyone I've talked too online): Wubbbbbb youuuuu

Okay, I'm done now with my obnoxiously long author's note. Thanks to those who read, I guess. . .

-TN