It was all Antonio's fault.
Every last bit of this could be traced back to him.
Lovino was nothing more than an innocent bystander who'd got caught up in the madness.
Or so he'd assert afterwards, without a single sliver of guilt at throwing Antonio under the metaphorical bus.
Feliciano had dragged them to stay at the potato bastard's house for the weekend, blabbering on about how it would be 'such a nice bonding time for all four of us!' and his beloved idiot had agreed before Lovino could open up his mouth. So the four of them were stuck in the middle of the German countryside in a poky old house without internet or phone signal.
Apparently this lack of modern necessities was the only way to keep the potato bastard from overworking.
In Lovino's opinion, all it did was make it that much harder not to wrap his hands around his neck. Especially when he knocked on his and Antonio's bedroom door at four in the morning and demanded to know if either of them were interested in joining him in his morning run.
Even after three mornings in a row of something heavy thrown at the door accompanied by a grumpy "Fuck off!", Ludwig still didn't seem to get the hint.
This particular afternoon, Feliciano had dragged Ludwig off to see some crumbling Prussian castle or tourist trap site and he and Antonio had agreed to stay and make dinner.
Lovino had had enough of this shitty German nonsense.
They'd gone to the nearest town and loaded up with tomatoes that were far from the quality they were used to, as well as picking up a few other items that they needed for the recipe. Looking back on the sheer number of tomatoes that Antonio had insisted on buying, Lovi would come to the conclusion that he'd been planning this, and right from the start.
About half an hour before Ludwig and Feliciano were due back, the two who'd stayed behind began to cook. They intended to surprise them with dinner ready and on the table for their return. Lovi had just got out the tomatoes and a chopping board when Antonio tripped, sending the water he'd been carrying flying. Right onto Lovi's head.
"What the fuck?!" He squealed, gasping in shock from how cold it was. Droplets caught in his hair dripped down the back of his neck and underneath his shirt collar.
"Ah! Lovi! I'm sorry!"
"Don't you fucking 'Lovi' me…" He growled, hand closing around the closest weapon.
Splat
He landed a glancing blow to Antonio's hairline and watched with satisfaction as the juices began to dribble down his face.
"Loviiii!" He swiped a seed out of his eyebrow. "That wasn't very nice!"
"Maybe not, but now we're even."
A sly grin came to Antonio's lips and he reached for the basket with the rest of the tomatoes in. "Even? All I dropped on you was water, and that was an accident!"
"Antonio, it was the fucking coldest thing I have ever had down th-" He was cut off by a direct hit to his chest.
It was on.
Lovino took possession of the kitchen sink, filling cups and bowls with cold water to throw, while Antonio piled up various kinds of soft, messy ammunition. Maybe the raspberries didn't have the same kind of splatter as the tomatoes, but it was fun to try to pinpoint aim them.
Meanwhile, Lovino had grabbed a cheeseboard and was using it almost as a bat to fend off Antonio's projectiles, sending raspberries and strawberries and tomatoes flying off in every direction. Water was puddled over the floor, and fruit stained almost every surface of the kitchen.
When Ludwig came in to investigate the strange sounds on his return, he was greeted with a tomato to the face before he could even begin to process what had been done to his nice, clean kitchen.
A mug of icy cold water quickly followed it and Antonio took advantage of Lovino's distraction to launch a sneak attack; he managed to get over to where the Italian was standing and grabbed the huge plastic tub that had been filling up.
Lovino almost screamed when it was dumped over his head.
Antonio couldn't stop laughing.
Lovino, cold and dripping wet, took his revenge.
He hugged him, holding Antonio close as the Spaniard squirmed and tried to get away. The fruit juices and cold water seeped through with the hug, and some of the smaller berries that had caught in the folds of his clothes burst.
Ludwig watched this scene, the conclusion that he would never understand Romantic countries sinking in deeper. He turned around and left, leaving the idiots to it.
"Ha! Got you!" Lovino hissed victoriously into his lover's ear.
"If you say so." A strong pair of arms returned the hug and Antonio kissed his cheek, licking up a trail of diluted tomato juice.
"That was gross."
"Very tasty though~ My favourite flavour~"
"You're a dick." Lovino loosened his grip, making it less of an attempt to crush the life out of the other and more of tight hug.
"You know you love me."
"Do I? Do I really?"
Silence.
"...Yeah, I love you. Dickhead. Now let's clean up before the German prick comes in and yells at us."