Hey guys! This would've been done sooner but I took a couple of lazy days so now here we are! I hope y'all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia...


"God, this restaurant better be fucking amazing. I'm so hungry," Lovino groaned, pushing the doors open to "Lorenzo's Kitchen". "And they better serve a mean spaghetti!"

"Actually," Antonio tried, entering after his date. "it's not a restaurant-"

"What?!" The Italian stopped in his tracks, making the Spaniard bump into him and stumble a bit. He turned around to glare at the older man. "What do you mean this isn't a restaurant?! You promised me dinner! How are we gonna eat dinner if we are not at a restaurant?"

"Well, I was going to take you to a restaurant but then I decided that seemed too cliche. You know, everyone is simple having dinner this days," Antonio reasoned.

"Well of course everyone is fucking having dinner! They want to live. Are you retarded or something?"

"No, no, you're not understanding me. I mean nobody is making dinner anymore, at least, not on their dates."

"Well, yeah. They're supposed to be on a date. They want to have fun and relax, not be doing a boring household chore." The brown-eyed man paused for moment. "Wait.. why would you even bring that up? Is that.. is that what were doing?! Are you kidding me? I work all day making food for other people and you think the first thing I do when I get off is to make more food? Is your skull really that think?"

"Oh Lovi, don't worry. It'll be fun, I promise you," the Spaniard promised, grabbing Lovino's hand and leading him down to the front desk. There was a young blond women sitting down there, typing on the computer in front off her. She looked up when she noticed the couple standing in front off her.

"How can I help you today, gentlemen?" she asked.

"We-"

"By directing us to the nearest restaurant," the Italian interrupted.

"Hmm? Oh Lovi, you're so funny," the happy-go-lucky man chuckled slightly. "Miss, he means more like "by directing us to the cooking class that I signed up both of us for."

"Cooking class? Really?" Lovino groaned. "Of all the bad ideas you could've had for a date that one really take the cake!"

"Trust me, Lovi. You'll love it. I even made sure that we could make your favorite dish: spaghetti and meatballs." Antonio turned his attention back to the receptionist. "We signed up for the class being taught b-"

"Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa," the younger man said, realizing something. "How do you know my favorite dish is spaghetti and meatballs? I never told you that." The older brunette hesitated a bit before answering.

"Ummm.. yeah, you did. Remember, you said when we came in that you hoped that the restaurant served a "mean spaghetti.' And I just inferred that is was your favorite," the Spaniard shrugged.

"Oh.. I mean, okay."

"Yeah, so as I was saying, we had a cl-"

"Wait, no, no. You almost got me!" Lovino cried, shaking his head. "You thought you got me but you didn't. That was close though."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean, that you signed us up for this cooking class in advance but I just said that I wanted spaghetti now. You must've somehow known it in advance! I knew you were a stalker, you tomato bastard!"

"What? No, Lovi! I am not a stalker. It was a guess, okay?" Antonio reassured, grabbing hold of both of the Italian's hands. "A good guess."

"Are you kidding me? No, I call B.S.!" Lovino pulled sharply pulled his hands out of the other man's grip. "How could you just guess that?"

"Well, I mean, it wasn't hard. You're Italian and it really is just spaghetti and meatballs. Not that intricate a dish," the Spaniard shrugged.

"Excuse you, but are you calling my taste simple?" the younger questioned.

"What, no! You're mistaken-"

"Oh so now I'm boring and mistaken?"

"No, no. You're intricate and sophisticated and perfect, Lovi," Antonio tried, grabbing the Italian's hands again. "You're always right."

"Oh, so now you say I'm intricate and right? Hmmm? Were you lying then or before?"

"I was mistaken before, okay?"

"Mistaken? Geez, you seem to toss around that word around lightly, don't ya?" the brown-eyed man accused, yanking his hands back. The older brunette took a deep breath before answering.

"Oh Lovi, how about we just let the minutia stay minutia, kay? Let's just take this cooking course already."

"Bu-"

"Awesome!" Antonio smiled, accidentally cutting his date off. He turned back to the receptionist. "The reservation is under my name, Antonio Ca..." Motherfucking bastard!," the Italian thought angrily, glaring at the Spaniard incredulously. Did he just cut me off?!

"Listen here," Lovino started. "You-"

"Ah, I see. Your booked in kitchen five. It's the third door on your left down the hallway," the receptionist instructed. "Your instructor is already in the room."

"What the fu-"

"Thanks so much!" the older brunette chirped. "Come on Lovi, let's go." Before the Italian could protest, Antonio grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hallway to kitchen 5. "You'll love who I picked as our instructor. He's supposed to be the best cooking teacher in the area." He pushed the door open and the couple saw a young blond in an apron slicing tomatoes on on a cutting counter; it was one of the two in the kitchen. The second was about twice the size of the first one and was situated five feet from the other one. Both were attached to a stove top and an oven. On the edge of both of the counters was a knife block with a wide array of knifes inside. One the other side of the space, there was a door marked pantry and a little bit to the left there was another door titled utensils. Farther down there was a sink. There was also a chalkboard on the wall behind the blond with the words 'Spaghetti and Meatballs' written on it.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Karkland," the green-eyed man guessed. "I'm Antonio and the person behind me is Lovino."

"Hmm?" The blond man turned around and instantly smiled when he saw the couple. "Oh, Lovin! I thought your name looked familiar on the reservation list! Good seeing you again man."

"Oh, damn it," the hot-headed man groaned, holding the bridge of his nose. "I was fine when you asked me to go out on a date. I was cool when you said that we had to make our own food on this outing-"

"Well," Antonio tried. "You weren't re-"

"Shut the fuck up!" the Italian yelled, raising his other hand up as if to say "stop". "Just shut up. I was cool when you said that we had to make our own food on stupid date. I wasn't even suspicious when you somehow knew what my favorite food was, even though that was totally merits to be-"

"Bu-"

"Goddammit. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. But after all of that, I was still cool when you cut me off, twice. But this is the last fucking straw. Out of all the ideas for a date, out of all the places we could've taken a cooking class, and out of all the instructors we could have had, we still somehow manage end up in a room with this annoying douche!" Lovino finished, motioning to the blond who just stood there wide-eyed.

"I'm... I'm just standing here," Peter answered innocently, looking down at the tomato he chopped. "God Lovin, what did I do to you?"

"Nothing," Antonio offered quickly, walking into the room and dragging his date behind him. "He didn't mean it. He was-"

"Oh, you didn't dude? Then it's all cool then," the Sealander smiled, waving it off as he wiped his hands on his apron.

"What? No!" Lovino tried. "I did-"

"Say no more Lovin. I understand," the blond reassured, walking over and giving the brunet a pat on the shoulder. "No harm done. Meanwhile, I haven't gotten your name yet," he continued, looking at the other brunet in the room. "I'm Peter, and you?"

"Antonio," the Spaniard grinned.

"Good to me- wait, wait a gosh darn tooting second." Peter walked closer to Antonio and stared intensely at him. "Your voice sounds really familiar to me.. like I heard it before recently or something."

"Umm.. really? I don't think that I've talked to you before."

"Are you sure?" The blue-eyed man walked back to his station and started to pace back and forth. "I swear, it sounds familiar... Wait, wait... I know it!"

"What?" Peter turned to look at the Spaniard.

"You're a model, right? Like in one of those underwear commercials, if I'm not mistaken. I saw one of those in between a glee rerun I was watching today."

"Um, no," the green-eyed man replied, blushing slightly. "I'm just in college and I don't have a job yet, unless you count sometimes being a soccer coach."

"Are you sure? Cause you could definitely be a model. You've got the looks, for sure," the Sealander complemented.

"Really? You think so?"

"No, I know so dude. I ran into guy today that was actually supposed to be a model but trust me you've got him beat. I mean, y-"

"Excuse me!" Lovino interjected, getting tired of the little chit-chat going on. "Are you going to teach us how to make a dish or are you going to just keep hitting on my date the whole time?!"

"Wait, what? You're date? You two are on a- oh. Ooohhhhhh!" Peter nodded and just chuckled to himself. "You two are on a date. A date! Of course, it all makes sense! You're the bastard Antonio!"

"Yeah," Antonio smiled, then paused a second. "Wait, what?"

"Nevermind that, Anton. Do you know how perfect this is, guys?"

"How perfect what is?" Lovino questioned suspiciously.

"I mean, it's perfectly clear, man," Peter stated frankly. "The world works in mysterious ways guys. Your guys' date is here, in my kitchen. I'm like basically you're chaperone."

"So?"

"So? So?!" The blond looked at the couple expecting an aha moment of somekind but they just stared blankly back at him. "Guys?! What, am I supposed to baby feed this to your or something? I mean, without me you guys wouldn't be here... on this date!"

"Why?"

"Why? Because I was the one who called-... the one who ca..." Then suddenly it hit Peter. "Ohhh, you don't.. okay. Gotcha."

"Called who?!" The Italian was seriously getting pissed off right now. "What are you talking about?!"

"Yeah, I'm kinda confused too," Antonio added. "Who'd you call?"

"I was..I was.." Peter hesitated. "Crap," he muttered.

"What?"

"I said ummm... I said that we I was the one who called off my dentist appointment for today so I could instruct you guys to make some good food. I mean, how could you guys be here on this exact date in my kitchen if I wasn't here?" Peter questioned cooly, making it up on the spot. "It was pretty obvious, guys, come on."

"What?! How were we supposed to know that?!" the Italian asked.

"Well, maybe not Anton over here, but you," the blond said, pointing at the Italian. "You could've, no should've, known that."

"How?"

"Well, when I talked to you yesterday, my teeth were pearly white but today, they are simply white. I mean, if that's not a tell, then I don't know what is," the Sealander finished, chuckling. Lovino just stared at him incredulously, trying to make sense of what he had heard.

"Are you serious?!"

"No, I believe the correct question is are you serious?"

"I'm sane!" Peter simply smirked smugly as he crossed his arms.

"That's not what I asked."

"Guys, guys. How about we just start cooking now?" Antonio offered, before his date could say anything else. "It looks like this argument is going nowhere."

"You know what?! Fine!" the younger brunet agreed, walking angrily over to the bigger cutting counter and standing behind it. "That's the best idea you've had since I've known you. I'm starving as hell."

"Aww, thanks Lovi!" Antonio chirped, skipping over to stand beside Lovino.

"That wasn't a complement, you bastard."

"But I took it as one so it's okay."

"Aww, you guys are just perfect for each other," the blond grinned, strolling over to his cooking station. "And don't worry, that one was a complement."

"Well I didn't take it as one so I guess it wasn't," Lovino quipped back.

"Oh, I see what you did there," Peter smirked. "You guys are just too cute!"

"Stop-"

"A bup bup bup," the Sealander interrupted. "I could talk to you guys all day also but technically, my job is too teach you guys how to cook Spaghetti and meatballs. So let's get cracka-lackin boys. Go wash your hands," he ordered.

"But-"

"Come on, guys. Let's get shaking!" Lovino begrudgingly complied and went to wash his hands in the sink, Antonio happily following him. They went back to their cooking station while Peter went into the Utensils room to get three medium-sized bowls and into the Pantry room to get a sack of flour and a carton of eggs. He came back out of the room and walked over to place the flour, eggs, and two bowls on the couple's cooking station. The blond then took the last bowl to his own station as he stood behind it. He picked up eggs, salt, and flour from under his station.

"Okay, so let's get cracka-lacking! Get it? Cracka-lacking?" Peter chuckled, picking up an egg. "Because we're gonna be cracking some eggs. Ahh, I'm hilarious."

"Yeah, hilarious," Lovino commented, rolling his eyes.

"Be nice," Antonio ordered, giving his date a nudged on the shoulder. The Italian simply turned and gawked at the other but didn't say anything. He settled on just shooting him daggers.

"Okay so the start off with, I want you guys to get the salt and some flour and whisk them together with a fork. You should find some forks in the drawer underneath," the blond instructed, doing as he had Spaniard looked in the drawer underneath and pulled out a whisk, while Lovino pulled out a fork. Antonio grabbed the flour and used it to fill half the bowl. He took the salt and poured a good portion of it in. Lovino also put flour and salt in his bowl and then they both started to stir. A few minutes, Peter came over to check on their progress. He looked at Lovino's bowl and smiled.

"Lovin! This is amazing. It seems like you found the perfect proportion of salt to flour."

"What?! Are you blind? Have you never made pasta before?" the Italian asked, looking at the instructor incredulously. "This clearly has a dash of too much salt in it. The whole goddamn thing is already ruined!"

"Umm.." The blond looked at the Lovino then back at the bowl. "No. I mean, um.. good start then."

"Good start? More like good nothing!"

"Yeahhhhhh... okay." The Sealander walked over to Antonio's side and peered inside his bowl and just stared wide-eyed, a little taken aback. "Umm.. Anton?"

"Yeah?" the older brunet questioned excitedly. "What, did I do good too?"

"Well, it's just that I can't even see the flour man. It's all just salt." Peter tilted the bowl over to the side a bit. "Is there even flour in this?"

"Yes... I mean, pretty sure.. I think."

"You think?" The blond paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "You know what? It's fine.. who needs a good foundation anyway? Let's move on to the egg part guys. Put your flour/salt mixture on the counter and make a little pit in the center. Take a few eggs each, crack 'em, and put them in the pit, okay? I need to go get some rolling pins in the Utensils room now so excuse me." While he left, the couple both put their mixture on the counter and made a little hole the middle. They both eggs from the carton and used them. Peter came back and set two rolling pins on their table.

"So guys, how it's goi-" He paused when he say the older man's pasta so far. "Anton."

"Yes?" The Spaniard looked at his instructor expectedly.

"You know you have to crack the eggs right?"

"Ohhhh, I knew I was forgetting something!"

"Yeah and I said use a few eggs. Not the entire carton."

"I didn't. I used only 3/4 of it. Lovi took three."

"Speaking of Lovin, let's see what he has done so far." The blond moved over the other man's counter. "My god, Lovin! This is perfect. You are such a natural."

"What are you talking about?!" the Italian asked, looking down at his dough so far. "The eggs are not centered. They're at least 2 millimeters off center!"

"What? You know what guys? Let's just move on to the next step." The trio spent the next hour and a half trying to make spaghetti and meatballs with Peter's instructions, with, of course, Lovino fighting him the whole time. They managed to make three plates of the dish. Lovino's being the best with Antonio's being fairly good also. They ate their food and Lovino was about to leave when Antonio offered to walk him home. Instead of arguing, the Italian simply shrugged and they went off.

"So...um, that was interesting,"Antonio said,when they were a few blocks away from Lovino's apartment. "I mean to say the least."

"The least is right," Lovino agreed. "I think that experience has ruined spaghetti and meatballs for me." The Spaniard simply chuckled in response. They walked in silence for a few more moments before the Italian spoke up.

"But you had fun, right?" he asked, quickly glancing at the older brunet then at the pavement of the sidewalk. "Like on the date? Not that I care or anything; I mean, the whole thing was doomed the moment you decided that making food is better than actually just eating it. Butdidyouhavefunanyway?" he finished quickly.

"Yeah," Antonio smiled, looking at the other brunet casually. "Of course, I did. I was with you. No matter what I was doing I would have ended up having fun. I could have getting a vasectomy but if you were there, it would have been a blast."

"Really? Your first thought of me was getting a vasectomy? Isn't that delightful?"

"No, no Lovi! That's not what I meant. It was just my way of saying yes, okay?," the Spaniard quickly tried to explain. "A very long drawn out weigh of saying yes." The Italian didn't say anything but instead, just kept looking forward as he strolled down the sidewalk. They continued for another minute before Antonio broke the silence.

"Can I make an observation?" he asked. The Italian simply sent a glare at him but didn't answer. "Cool," he continued. "It's just that you seem really ca- I mean, mellowed right now."

"Yeah, well I guess all that stupid spaghetti we ate in the end weighed me down and I don't have the energy to scream right now, believe it or not," the younger man retorted. Antonio looked down at his feet and began to laugh.

"What?" Lovino turned to glare at his date again. "Why are you laughing?"

"Well because you're funny?" the Spaniard tried to say, looking back at him but it came out more like a question.

"Is that a question?"

"Did you think it was?"

"I just think you're a tomato bastard," the Italian sighed, staring forward again.

"I can live with tha-"

"Well I'm here," the brown-eyed man said, stopping on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building. "I guess this is it then."

"So uh... I guess this is the part then where I ask you if you want to go out again?" Antonio grinned sheepishly, also stopping. "You know, like on a date?"

"Hell no!"

"Oh." The older man immediately felt dejected. "I'm sorry, I just th-"

"No, I mean. I wouldn't necessarily want to go on a fancy schamcy date or anything but um.. I don't know..if you ever get hungry again, like around a mealtime, and I also just happen to be hungry at the same time, which of course would be totally coincidental, then I guess it wouldn't hurt, you know because we were both gonna eat at the same time anyway, if we ate together."

"Huh? Lovi, I'm not su-" Antonio paused. "Wait, is this your way of asking me out on a date?"

"No! Noooooo.. it's my way of saying that people sometimes get hungry and they sometimes decide to eat together. So you know, why can't we be those people?"

"I suppose that's true," the Spaniard grinned. "So around what times do people tend to get hungry?"

"I don't know...maybe at 8:00 on Saturday at Da Vici's restaurant?" The brunet paused for a second. "For example, of course."

"Yes, yes. Well, I suppose I am a person who also gets hungry at 8:00 on Saturday at Da Vici's restaurant."

"Well I guess this is good night then," the Italian said, turning around and walking towards his building.

"Yeah, good night," Antonio smiled to himself, standing there until Lovino entered his building.


So, what do you think? Please review! Ta ta for now!