When Antonio woke up again in the morning, Lovino wasn't there. There was a warm dent on his bed, and the blankets had been carefully tucked back over Antonio, but the space under Antonio's arm was empty. He sighed and sat up. Something fell from his chest to his legs. He looked down. A piece of paper, torn out of his notebook that he had left open lay on his right thigh. Scrawled across it, in messy handwriting, was a simple note: 'Thanks.'

Antonio stared at it for a moment, then hauled himself out of bed and got dressed, stuffing the note into his pocket. He checked the time: 9:27 am. He usually went to help out at the soup kitchen at 11 on Saturday mornings, but he figured he could go early this time, there was nothing else for him to do. He glanced over at Francis, who was still asleep, and grabbed his coat, threw it over his shoulders, and went out the door.

He went into the soup kitchen through the back entrance that the volunteers used, and hung up his coat next to all the others. As he made his way to the kitchen, he greeted people that he knew. The soup kitchen was run by his church, and though he wasn't very religious at all, he felt that coming and helping the homeless and hungry was just as good as kneeling and praying to a deity that he didn't really believe in anyway.

He pulled on his rubber gloves and apron and mask and got to his station, where he doled out food bubbling in large pots to hungry people. He looked up as he served a balding old man, to see how many people were there, and then he saw a face he recognized.

Lovino was standing in the middle of the line, his head down, chewing his lower lip, hands in his pockets. Taken by surprise, he gawked at the small figure amongst so many others.

The old man he was serving coughed and Antonio jerked back to attention and finished serving him. But as soon as the man left, he lifted his head once again to stare at Lovino.

Lovino hadn't seemed to have noticed him yet, thank god. Antonio was a little afraid of what would happen if he did.

"Hey, you gonna serve me or what?" the person in front of him snapped.

"Oh- right. Sorry," he said quickly, and grabbed his ladle and served the person. He glanced quickly over at Lovino, who apparently still hadn't seen him. But then Lovino scratched the back of his head, and yawned big and wide, and as his head tilted upwards, his eyes caught on Antonio's. He stopped and stared, as if dumbstruck, and then slowly the color rose in his face, until it was an angry red. He charged over to Antonio and yelled over the counter,

"What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"H-Helping out," Antonio stammered. "I help out here on Saturday and Sunday mornings."

The woman serving next to Antonio looked over and raised an eyebrow.

"Get back in line, pretty boy," she laughed. "You can wait your turn like everybody else."

Pretty boy?

"What are you doing here?" Antonio finally got the courage to ask. The color in Lovino's face deepened and he looked taken aback.

"I- I'm helping out! Like you!"

"Don't joke around now," the woman next to Lovino said. "You go get back in line and wait like you do every Saturday and Sunday." She shook her head. "Honestly," she snapped her gum, "What's gotten into you?"

Lovino looked from Antonio to the woman and back again. Finally he slunk back into line and resumed looking at the floor. Antonio couldn't see his face, but the tips of his ears were bright red.

When it was Antonio's turn to serve Lovino, he looked as if he was about to either throw up or die from embarrassment.

"I- I normally help out here," Lovino blurted, not looking at Antonio fiercely. "Really, I do. They just… mixed it up or something."

"Uh-huh." Antonio slopped oatmeal into the plastic bowl.

"Keep the line moving," the woman next to Antonio said, waving for Lovino to leave. After one final, desperate glance at Antonio, he quickly hurried away. As Antonio served the next person, he saw Lovino sit down, dejected, out of the corner of his eye. Finally someone else came to take his place, and he went over to Lovino and sat down next to him.

"Hey," he greeted Lovino, who was solemnly picking up oatmeal in the spoon, looking at it, then dropping it with a plop back into the bowl.

"Hey," Lovino muttered.

"You should probably eat that, it'll get cold," Antonio pointed out. Lovino didn't answer and Antonio scooted closer to him on his stool, placing a hand on Lovino's shoulder. "Aren't you hungry?" he asked.

"Of course I am," Lovino growled, shrugging Antonio off.

"Then why don't you eat?" Lovino still didn't answer, so Antonio took his spoon from him and scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal and held it to Lovino's lips. "Here comes the oatmeal train," he teased. "Choo choo." He poked Lovino's lips with the heaping spoon. He saw Lovino's lips curl into a snarl and in an instant Lovino had picked up the bowl of oatmeal and thrown it into Antonio's face.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?!" he screamed, at the top of his lungs. The room fell quiet.

Antonio could feel the oatmeal dripping down his face and neck and into his shirt, into his open mouth. Using the back of his hand, he wiped it away from his eyes and nose, but he could still feel the sticky wetness of it on his skin. Globs of oatmeal fell from his face and neck and chin and onto the floor, and Lovino watched it fall, and then in a second, Antonio saw panic register in Lovino's eyes as he dove to the floor, getting down on his hands and knees. He tried to scoop up the fallen oatmeal and shoved it into his mouth hungrily and, in desperation, even started licking the dirty floor.

Still stunned, Antonio just managed to bend down and pull Lovino up by the back of his shirt.

"Here," he said. "I'll take you out to lunch."

Lovino trudged along behind Antonio angrily, his head down and his head in his pockets. He hadn't yet apologized, but then again, Antonio hadn't really expected him to. He cleaned up in a public bathroom, although his shirt was still wet and little oat flakes were stuck to his skin and clothes.

"Is pizza alright with you?" Antonio asked.

"Yeah," Lovino mumbled. Antonio could tell he was embarrassed, both to be seen waiting in line for free food and for having reacted rashly. He wasn't mad with Lovino, although he figured he probably should be. But he couldn't find it in him to be mad, he just felt pity for Lovino and embarrassment also, for having seen Lovino somewhere he didn't want to be seen. Antonio opened the door for Lovino and he nodded thanks as he walked in. They shared a pizza between the two of them in silence. Everytime Antonio saw Lovino's eyes on him, he tried to give him a reassuring smile, to say that it was alright, that he wasn't mad, but Lovino would always just look down and continue eating, slowly, neatly, even though he must have been starving.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Antonio said, not really sure why he was apologizing. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. Lovino watched him, blank-faced.

"How's your face?" Antonio tried to change the subject. "You know, from last night."

Lovino reached a hand up and touched his cheek dazedly.

"Um. Okay, I guess. I think. I don't know."

"Here, let me see." Antonio leaned over the table, accidentally knocking over a glass of water with his elbow. It splashed all over Lovino, wetting his shirt to a dark charcoal color.

Antonio laughed. "See, now we're even," he chuckled. Lovino glared at him and Antonio could see his old spirit was back, that he was over his previous embarrassment. "But really," Antonio said, "Let me see your face to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," Lovino protested, tipping his chair back away from Antonio, but Antonio just leaned further onto the table, now practically laying on it as Lovino continued to tip his chair backwards. The cashier looked at them oddly but said nothing. Grinning, Antonio stretched his arms and fingers to their extent, trying to get to Lovino, but Lovino leaned yet further back, too far back, and the chair legs folded beneath him and he tumbled to the floor. Antonio peeled himself from the table in a hurry and went over to help Lovino up, but as soon as Lovino saw him, he started laughing helplessly.

"What?" Antonio asked, confused. "What is it?"

Still laughing, Lovino pointed to Antonio's shirt. Antonio looked down and saw that a slice of the pizza was stuck to his shirt, a little brown triangle on his chest. He started to laugh too, feeling them rise up in his body like he had swallowed bubbles.

"Come on," he said,still giggling a bit, holding out a hand for Lovino, "Why don't we go back to my place for a bit?"

"Here, borrow one of my shirts. I need to wash mine too, anyway." Antonio thrust a t-shirt at Lovino before taking his own off. The wet cloth stuck to his skin as he pulled it off, and there were still some stray oat flakes on his chest and stomach. Lovino, all of a sudden, found the shirt he was holding very interesting.

"Why don't you take yours off, too?" Antonio nodded toward Lovino.

"No, I'm okay, thanks," Lovino said with a hasty laugh.

"But you'll get cold!"

"I'm okay. I don't get cold."

"But you have goosebumps!" Antonio pointed out, looking at Lovino's thin arms. "See?" He walked over and grazed a finger up Lovino's forearm. Lovino shivered, looked away, and pulled his arm out of Antonio's reach quickly.

"I- I'm part chicken," he said.

Antonio laughed. "Pardon?"

"My.. uh, my great-great-great grandfather.. he, like.. uh.. fucked a chicken. And now all his descendents have chicken skin. It's just natural," Lovino said, punctuating his words with unease.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Hey," Antonio said, changing the subject as he grabbed another shirt and put it on, "What did you think of the pizza? It's my favorite pizza joint in town."

"It was… okay. By American standards," Lovino said huffily.

"Okay?! Just okay? It's the best pizza you can get in the state!"

"Just because you Americans," Lovino spat out the word 'Americans' as if it were a curse, "have low standards doesn't mean the rest of us have to."

"Don't act like you're better than us- Italians are terrible at driving!"

"What the fuck does that have to do with pizza?!"

"I don't know, it just seemed… the right thing to say." Antonio scratched his chin. "Maybe I was wrong."

"Maybe?" Lovino repeated sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Maybe. Well, you know- I've never had what you call 'real' pizza…" Antonio trailed off hopefully.

"You want me to make you pizza?"

"Pweeze?" Antonio batted his eyes, sticking out his lower lip like a child begging their mother for candy.

Lovino sighed. "You're hopeless."

"Is that a yes?"

Lovino thought for a moment. "Yes. But you'll owe me."

"Your wish is my command! There's a communal kitchen downstairs, and Francis has a bunch of cooking stuff." Antonio hurried over to Francis's closet and grabbed as much things as he could carry, opening the door with his foot. He tried to hold it open for Lovino with his foot, his one leg shaking, but he fell off balance, and, dropping his pots and pans and cooking things, grabbed onto the closest thing- a single curl sticking up in Lovino's mess of hair. Lovino gasped and sank to the ground, bringing Antonio down with him.

"Ow, sorry," Antonio apologized. "Did I hurt you?" He had fallen on top of Lovino, pinning him to the ground. Lovino moaned underneath him. Antonio felt something on his shoulders and back and then realized that it was Lovino's hands, scrabbling onto him desperately.

"L-Lovino?"

"Antoni- ah!" Lovino cried as Antonio moved his hand slightly on his curl.

"Shit, Lovi, are you okay?!"

"Mo- Move your hand," Lovino panted.

"Um. Okay," Antonio said, a little confused. He moved his hand up and down on Lovino's curl.

Lovino screamed, but not in pain- it sounded… different, somehow, as if he was screaming from extreme pleasure. It seemed oddly sexual and Antonio gulped, feeling his pants growing uncomfortably tight.

Antonio moved his hand again and he felt Lovino's whole body shudder underneath him, Lovino's back arching, unconsciously pressing himself against Antonio. Lovino's hands dug into Antonio, clinging to him desperately as if for dear life.

"No, no, don't," Antonio thought he heard Lovino moan, but he wasn't sure. He didn't really know what he was doing, but Lovino's body pressed up against his, Lovino's hands, Lovino's voice calling out in sweet intones made him just want more.

"Please," Lovino pleaded. Assuming he wanted more movement on his curl, Antonio moved his hand once more and Lovino cried out again, tears in his eyes.

"No- stop- Antonio, sto-" His words were cut off as an uncontrollable moan slipped through his lips.

"You want me to stop?"

"Yes!" Lovino gasped, and Antonio reluctantly slid his hand off of Lovino's curl. Lovino's whole body relaxed almost instantly, his hands sliding off of Antonio. He lay there, breathing heavily for a moment, then kicked Antonio off of him and ran out of the room.

Lovino eyed himself in the dorm bathroom mirror warily. His face was still red and his breathing was rapid, his chest rising and falling quickly. He groaned, embarrassed for letting Antonio see him like that. How could he go back in there again, after practically jizzing himself right in front of Antonio? He ran his hands through his sweaty hair, trying to calm his breathing. He splashed some cold water on his fevered face. It felt good and he stuck his head under the tap, feeling the water drip down his face and neck and into his shirt, down his back.

"Lovino?" Antonio's voice startled Lovino and in his attempts to straighten up, he hit his head on the metal faucet. He reached up and turned the tap off, feeling the water slow to a trickle and then into drops, one two three. Carefully he extricated himself from the sink basin and straightened up, pivoting on his heel to face Antonio.

"Yeah?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You- you're all wet," Antonio said, feeling useless and tepid. But he couldn't stop himself from admiring Lovino's body- his chest, rising and falling in time to little puffs of air, his flat stomach, his nipples poking through his wet shirt that clung to his torso… god, he wanted Lovino, he wanted Lovino under him and screaming in that voice again, he wanted Lovino's hands holding onto him as they had before, he wanted Lovino so bad he was worried it would be evident to anyone, especially Lovino.

Lovino looked down at himself. "Yeah. I know," he said slowly, as if Antonio were an idiot, which was exactly how he was feeling like at the moment.

Antonio nodded, not knowing what to say.

Lovino looked as if he was waiting for Antonio to say something, but Antonio remained silent, hoping Lovino would take the initiative. Finally Lovino said,

"So… pizza?"

"Yes!" Antonio agreed enthusiastically, glad that Lovino had been able to handle the situation. "The kitchen's this way." He gathered up his cooking utensils and items and then led Lovino down the stairs, occasionally checking over his shoulder to make sure Lovino hadn't wandered off or gotten lost.

Happily Antonio set his cooking things on the table, his muscles tired. Lovino nosed through the foodstuffs Antonio had brought down with him, then opened all the cabinets and the communal fridge, searching for ingredients. He pulled out a choice few and then set to work, wiping down the dirty table before sprinkling it with flour. He made and kneaded dough in a chipped bowl, then dumped it onto the flour, pounding and shaping and spreading it with his steady hands. Lovino seemed to be calmer, more at ease when he was cooking, as if he was rolling out his worries along with the dough. Finally he seemed satisfied with the pizza base he had made and picked it up and put it on a tray in the oven. He waited fifteen minutes, chewing his nails while Antonio watched silently, awed, and then pulled it out with his bare hands and putting it down on the table again. He sprinkled some more flour over it and then opened the canned of tinned tomatoes. He sniffed it, grimacing at the old, vinegary smell, then strained them. As they were already soft, he mashed them up in a small bowl, adding a couple herbs. When he was satisfied, he put a globule of the tomato sauce on the pizza and spread it around. He grabbed the assortment of cheeses that he had found and sniffed each one carefully, finally deciding on a slightly moldy mozzarella. He cut off the moldy bits and snatched up a grater, grating the soft cheese over the tomato sauce. He chopped up some wilted basil leaves and put that on also, and then put it back in the oven.

"Wow," Antonio said finally, feeling sort of like an intruder. "That was really cool."

Lovino harrumphed and crossed his arms, leaning on the counter next to the oven, tapping his foot impatiently. Slowly a great smell began to permeate through the room and Antonio could feel himself getting hungry again, even though he had eaten just an hour or so ago.

After what seemed like forever, Lovino opened the oven, pulling his sleeves down over his hands and quickly taking out the pizza and setting the tray on the table. He took a knife from the pile of random utensils and sliced it up, using the flat blade of the knife as a spatula to place slices of pizza on paper plates.

Eagerly Antonio got a piece of the pizza and bit into it, even though it burned the roof of his mouth.

"Wow," he said for the second time, still chewing, "This is really good! Really, really good- the best pizza I've ever had! I didn't know pizza could be this good."

"It's okay," Lovino sniffed contemptuously. "It would be a whole lot better if I had the proper ingredients."

"But it's so good!" Antonio protested, taking another slice. Lovino looked up at the clock.

"I should go," he said, getting to his feet.

Antonio looked up questioningly.

"Classes," Lovino explained.

"Right." Antonio looked down sullenly. He didn't want Lovino to leave and he felt selfish for thinking that, for making Lovino stay so long, but he couldn't help it. "See you."

"Yeah. Bye," Lovino said, but he was already out the door, his voice carrying down the hall.

That night, when Antonio lay in bed, alone, he thought of Lovino. He thought of Lovino, his face, reddened, his voice when he screaming, moaning, the way his body felt under his, his arms around him, and he touched himself, he couldn't help it. Quietly gasping, he heard himself whisper Lovino's name as he came, without meaning to. Afterward, he lay his head on his pillow, feeling guilty, dirty, so awful for thinking that way.

He wondered what would happen if his girlfriend found out.