Antonio sneezed himself awake. Unwillingly, he opened his eyes. A soft gray blanket had been placed over him, presumably the cause of the sneezing. He held it to his nose. It smelt like Lovino. He inhaled deeply, and then sneezed again. Point taken.
Antonio flailed his arms and legs in an attempt to untangle himself from the web of blanket, but only succeeded in falling off the sofa. He heard a giggling from above him and threw off the blanket, sitting up.
Lovino was sitting on the opposite sofa, hand over his mouth to conceal his laughter. In his other hand was a cup of coffee. At the sound of Lovino's hiccupy giggles, the pain in Antonio's back subsided and was replaced with a warm, fuzzy feeling that spread through his whole body, making his fingers and toes tingle as if Lovino's laughs were going directly into him and reverberating pleasantly. Antonio began to laugh too, rubbing the back of his neck abashedly.
"Want some coffee?" asked Lovino, laughter still evident in his voice.
"Sure." Antonio was smiling so wide he felt his face might just crack in two. He slapped his cheeks with his hands, trying to get some feeling back into them.
"What are you doing?!"
"Oh. Uh." Antonio lowered his hands from his face and looked at them. "I don't know."
Lovino chuckled and continued to the kitchenette.
Oh god, Lovino was just so cute, Antonio couldn't handle it- that laugh, that tiny smile, the way he bounced when he walked… Hugging himself, Antonio began to roll around on the floor, not even knowing why. His face hurt from smiling so much, but he couldn't stop, Lovino was just too cute…
"The fuck are you doing?!"
Antonio sat up at once, banging his head on the side of the table. "What?" he said quickly.
"You were just.."
"Doing what?" he folded his hands in his lap like a business man. "I wasn't doing anything silly, no, not me- I'd never do something silly!"
"Okay, okay, fine, got it." Lovino rolled his eyes. "Here's your coffee." He squatted down and handed a mug to Antonio, sitting down on the floor himself.
"Ah, great. Thanks." Antonio took it from Lovino gratefully, preparing to take a gulp. As his lips touched the hot liquid and it poured into his mouth, Lovino warned,
"Oh, and be careful. It's really hot."
Antonio forced himself to swallow the searing coffee, his eyes tearing. "C-Couldn't you have said that earlier?!" he gasped, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
Lovino shrugged passively. "Put your tongue back in your mouth," he commanded.
"Buh i's bunt!" complained Antonio thickly.
"And I don't care."
Reluctantly, Antonio retracted his tongue back into his mouth.
"Whut thyme ith it?" he asked, his tongue still feeling strange and numb.
"A bit after three."
"Oh. Cool." Antonio ran his fingers through his hair, not knowing what to say. "How are you?"
"Fine," replied Lovino curtly, getting to his feet. "I need to go to town to get some stuff. Do you wanna come?"
"Sure!" Antonio leaped to his feet, excited to see more of Italy. "Let me get my camera!"
"We're just going to the supermarket!" Lovino called after him, but Antonio had already bounded into the bedroom to retrieve his things.
"I got my bag and my shoes- what's the weather like? Is it cold? Do I need my coat? Or-"
"Just wear your sweater and let's go! Jesus, is it really that hard?" Lovino waited by the door, tapping his foot impatiently.
Antonio emerged.
"You can't wear that backpack!" reprimanded Lovino, walking over and pulling it off of his shoulders.
"Why not?"
"It's fucking neon- you'll get mugged!"
"Oh." Antonio hung his head. "Okay." He dropped it on the floor, dejected.
Lovino took a deep breath. "Are we ready?" He gave the impression of an irritated mother, trying to herd her misbehaving children out of the house in time for church.
He swung the door open and started down the steps, Antonio close behind.
"Whoa…" Antonio lifted his camera, snapping a few shots.
"Stop it, you're embarrassing me," mumbled Lovino, his ears red. "It's just a supermarket."
"Yeah, but Italian!"
"And still a supermarket."
"But Italian!" Antonio took a couple more photos of the noodle aisle.
"Just put that camera away! Everyone is staring!"
"Lovi- we're in Italy!" gasped Antonio, as if just realizing that their transcontinental flight had, in fact, been transcontinental.
"I know, so turn off the fucking camera already!"
"But-"
"I can, and I will break it," threatened Lovino. Antonio switched the camera off, stowing it regretfully in his pocket.
"So what are we gonna buy?" he asked.
"Food. What else?"
"Oh boy!" Antonio clapped his hands excitedly. "What are we gonna have for dinner tonight?"
"For the rest of the week," corrected Lovino. "And I just have 11 euros, so don't get your hopes up." Upon seeing his friend's crestfallen expression, he added quickly,
"I'll see if I can get some ingredients to make you something. What's your favorite food?"
"Churros!" said Antonio, brightening up.
"Churros?" contemplated Lovino. "Those are easy. I can make that."
"Really?!" Antonio jumped up and down, unable to contain his glee. "You'd do that for me?! Oh my gosh, Lovi, thank you thank you thank you!" He threw his arms around Lovino's shoulders from behind, the extra weight making him stagger a little.
"Antonio!" Lovino hissed, his face growing red from the combined stares of other shoppers and the fact that Antonio was clinging to him, pressed up against his back- oh god, what if he could feel how fast his heart was beating right now, what if he could feel the heat and lust and desire coursing through Lovino's very being, filling him from head to toe…
"W-We're in public!" he tried again, his voice quivering a bit.
"Ohmygosh Lovi you're my bestest friend ever thank you thank you I love you so much, Lovi, you're the best!" exclaimed Antonio, only hugging the protesting Italian tighter.
"Okay, okay, just get off or I won't make it!"
"Aww…" Deflated but not discouraged, Antonio let his arms fell to his sides, taking a step back.
"Thanks," said Lovino curtly, striding briskly forward, attempting to hide the redness of his face from Antonio.
Antonio trotted behind Lovino happily all the way through and out of the supermarket, even skipping for a while until, annoyed, Lovino weighed him down with shopping bags.
"Looks great," commented Antonio.
"I haven't even made it yet! I'm still unpacking the groceries," Lovino told him huffily, looking over his shoulder to speak to Antonio, bent over in front of the short refrigerator.
"Oh. Right." Antonio laughed nervously. "What I mean to say is, er, that… that it'll look great once you start!" he corrected himself.
"Don't strain yourself." Lovino straightened up, stretching. His back cracked.
"Out the way," he commanded. "I actually gotta make this if you want to eat it."
"Right. Sorry." Antonio backed up against the wall, allowing Lovino to pass, watching with interest as he pulled out several cooking implements and devices from various drawers and cabinets, nooks and crannies, slamming a large frying pan down and turning on the gas. He paused.
"I can't do it if you're watching!" he complained.
"Aww, but I wanna see how you do it," whined Antonio. "You look so cool when you cook."
"I don't care- go stand somewhere where you can't bother me!"
Begrudgingly, Antonio obliged, retreating to a faraway corner where he could still see, but wasn't directly behind Lovino.
"Actually, wait- can you tie my apron?" called Lovino, the tips of his ears pink.
"Aha, so you do need me after all," teased Antonio.
"I do not- it's just easier when you do it, that's all!"
"Sure, sure." Antonio ambled over, taking the two drawstrings in his hands. "How tight do you want it?"
"I'll tell you when to stop." Antonio began to pull, crossing the two strings over each other, getting closer and closer to the small of Lovino's back.
"How's this?"
"Tighter."
"This?"
"Tighter."
"What about now?"
"More." Finally Lovino stopped him, saying, "There. There is good."
"God, you're waaaay too skinny," muttered Antonio, his fingers slipping on the small strings. "Have you always been this skinny?"
"I'm just small." Embarrassment was evident in Lovino's voice and Antonio forced himself, with difficulty, to not ask anymore questions. He double-knotted Lovino's apron and stepped back silently, watching as he poured oil on the surface of the pan; sizzling, bubbling under the heat of blue gas-flame.
"I couldn't afford to eat much in America," Lovino broke the silence, surprising them both. "You saw me, in line for free food. Eating napkins. Trash."
"I- sorry." Antonio hung his head, ashamed, but Lovino continued to speak; the sound of water pouring, combining, congealing with flour and sugar providing a background symphony,
"And when I was a kid, I didn't get much to eat. So I've always been small and skinny- Feli too, that's why people mistake him for a 12-year old when he's 17."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."
Lovino merely bit his lip, shrugging, and continued to stir the dough.
"C'mere," he said finally, nodding towards the counter next to him. "Don't just stand there, make yourself useful."
"Right!" Antonio beamed, cheering up. He bounded over to Lovino. "What should I do?"
"Get me a plastic bag for the dough, and cut it up. There's scissors in that drawer there."
Obligingly Antonio got out a plastic bag, cutting a star shape into one corner like he had so often watched his mother do, as Lovino cut the heat off, shaping the newly-formed dough in a ball.
"Here." Lovino plopped the dough ball into the plastic bag, putting the pan in the sink and bringing the other frying pan that had been dutifully heating oil to the forefront of the stove. he stepped aside, allowing Antonio room.
"You can squeeze them out." Doubtfully Antonio took his place, squeezing the makeshift plastic pastry bag, now containing the still hot dough, over the bubbling oil. A tiny drop of dough came out.
"Harder," commanded Lovino, and Antonio clenched his hands, a huge glob erupting out the tip.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Lovino quickly, placing his hands over Antonio's. "Gently. Like this,"
His soft fingers collided over Antonio's own thick ones, guiding, teaching him through touch. He squeezed gently, molding Antonio's hands around the plastic bag. Shaped by the star Antonio had cut, a tube of soft dough eased out the pastry bag. Lovino moved Antonio's hands along so that the tube elongated and stretched; settling, sizzling in the pan of oil.
"There you go," said Lovino, a soft smile illuminating his face. He drew back, his hands lifting off of Antonio's. The warmth that had been building in Antonio's chest shrank and he smiled as well, to hide his awkwardness and longing.
"You're really good at this," mused Antonio. "Did your mom teach you how to cook?"
A muscle in Lovino's jaw clenched, the peace that had previously lit his being waning. His movements, frying the churro, became jerky, mechanic.
"I taught myself," he muttered finally.
Antonio viewed Lovino from the side as he worked, wishing he had just kept his mouth shut. He hated when Lovino became all stressed and tensed, even more so when it was he who had caused it. He wished he could help Lovino to relax; ease up a little, smile a bit more.
Unable to fight the impulse, Antonio reached from behind, wrapping his arms around Lovino's thin waist and propping his chin on his shoulder.
"H-Hey!" Lovino protested, but seemed to settle a bit at Antonio's touch.
"I'm just so happy- Lovi, making me churros… it's like a dream!"
"Okay, okay, just get off- you'll ruin the churros!"
"Aww.." reluctantly, Antonio backed off. But when he returned back to the counter, peeking sideways, he was pleased to see a faint smile tracing Lovino's lips, the tension in his shoulders and face gone.