Romano x Reader: L'amore passa per lo stomaco

WARNING: swearing!

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„No, drop it! Piantala! (Knock it off!) What the fuck are you doing, deficiente? You're doing it all wrong! And that's way too fucking much, dammit! Give that to me!“ The brown-haired and amber-eyed boy yanked the Parmesan grater from your hands. His face was as red as yours from anger – but you could hide your anger better.

„You have to do it like this! See? Not the shit you did, giuggiolona! And not so much! You don't want to smother the guests with Parmesan cheese, do you? Now try it again!“ He shoved the grater back in your hands after showing you how to properly grate the Parmesan cheese and how much you should use, and then he watched you intently with his arms crossed over his chest as you mimicked his actions, grating the cheese.

„That's better, ragazza.“ the boy whose name was Lovino Vargas said. „Not perfetto, but better, at least. Give that to Flavio when you're finally fucking finished. And hurry the fuck up, dammit! The people are waiting for your sorry ass to finish preparing this dead easy dish.“

As he stomped off, he mumbled: „I wonder why fratello hired you as an assistant cook in the first place.“

You kept your (colour) eyes fixated on the plate in front of you as you pressed your lips together, trying to calm yourself so that you wouldn't shove the grater across his face, muttering curses under your breath.

You didn't really wonder why Feliciano, Lovino's brother, had chosen you of all people for the employment of an assistant cook, since your cooking skills were pretty good – at least good enough to work here.

You were currently going to university, and you needed money, so you had immediately entered the Italian restaurant – the best and most popular one in (Hometown) – when you had seen the notice on one of the restaurant's windows.

The restaurant was owned by the Spaniards Antonio and his cousin Andres Fernández Carriedo, and the Italian brothers Feliciano and Lovino Vargas and their cousins Luciano and Flavio Vargas who where also brothers worked as waiters and cooks.

There weren't any other workers, and yet they managed to deal with the daily rush.

You had been working here for a month now, and your cooking skills had improved so far, yet Lovino always found something he could criticize, and it often was something of no importance, like the amount of Parmesan cheese on Spaghetti.

You got along with Antonio, Feliciano, and Flavio, and even with Andres and Luciano, but not with Lovino.

It seemed like he hated you, but his brother had reassured you many times that this was his usual behaviour towards others, and Feliciano had even said that Lovino would actually like you, but you didn't think so.

He was constantly watching you like a hawk, just waiting for you to do something wrong.

But that wasn't really the problem. You wouldn't have given a shit usually and just ignored the person's behaviour.

The problem was that you had a crush on him.

The second you had first seen him, you had fallen head over heels in love with him – just like he had begun to bear hatred towards you the second he had first seen you.

And his constant rude behaviour toward you and calling you an idiot and whatnot made you fucking angry.

You sighed through gritted teeth and took the three plates with Spaghetti alla carbonara, carrying them over to Flavio, a boy with bright blond hair and fuchsia eyes who was already waiting for you at the door to the crowded and loud main room of the restaurant where the guests were eating – and waiting for their food to arrive.

„Don't-a worry too much about it-a, pupa.“ Flavio said, taking the plates. „He doesn't mean it. We're all happy you're-a working here and helping us.“

„Although you're-a constantly fucking up dishes.“ Luciano, one of the two cooks – the other one was Lovino –, spoke up, contorting his lips to a malicious grin, his magenta eyes glistening with mischief.

Flavio gave him a dirty look and made a move to pull at his brother's curl sticking out from his auburn hair, but Luciano threateningly lifted the knife he was currently working with, and Flavio withdrew his hand.

You huffed. „I'm taking a short break, guys.“ You crossed the kitchen and left the building through the back door, stepping out in a narrow and rather dark alleyway where Andres was standing and smoking. You leaned against the rough wall next to him.

„Problems with the brat again?“ he asked, his yellow eyes flickering over to you.

You nodded, sighing exasperated.

„Hm.“ he hummed. He took a drag from the cigarette and fastened his hair tie which held his dark brown hair back in a ponytail. „Someone should teach him a lesson how to treat young ladies.“ The cigarette smoke poured from his nostrils like a dragon as he stared ahead.

„Oh well.“

He looked at you. „Have a smoke?“

„No, thanks. I don't smoke.“

He shrugged and proceeded to stare at the opposite wall.

„Bella, where are you-a? Bella!“ Feliciano's up-beat, yet muffled voice reached your ears, sounding from within the restaurant. „There's-a work for you-a, bella!“

The back door was thrown open, and Feliciano emerged from the kitchen. He immediately spotted you despite his closed eyes – you always wondered how he could orientate himself –, beaming at you and taking your hand in his. „Dai! (Come on!) You-a have to prepare-a three Caprese salads-a, bella!“

Waving at Andres who nodded to you, you followed Feliciano back inside and to one of the many countertops. After Feliciano had let go of you and had gone back to work, you began to prepare, as ordered, three Caprese salads, slicing mozzarella, washing tomatoes and plucking basil.

While you were slicing the tomatoes, Lovino popped up right beside you, practically out of thin air, and watched your every movement.

His observant eyes upon you made you nervous – nervous as in you hoped you wouldn't do anything wrong so that he wouldn't yell at you again, and nervous as in your crush was looking at you.

„What the fuck do you think you're doing, ragazza?“ he asked angrily.

You cringed and froze, not daring to meet his gaze, yet peering at him from the corner of your eye. „I'm slicing tomatoes for three Caprese salads as ordered.“ you answered, relieved that your voice sounded quite calm despite the anger welling up inside you once again.

He looked at the sliced tomatoes in front of you on the countertop and then back at you. „Really? Well, newsflash, fessa! You're doing it wrong – again, dammit! These slices are too fucking thick! You're wasting the tomatoes! Slice them thinner! Can you even cook at all?“

You gripped the knife you were holding tighter and turned around to Lovino. Barely a thin layer of air separated both of your bodies, and if the situation would have been another, your heart would have burst your ribcage, but not now.

Now your blood was boiling with rage.

You've had enough of this shit.

„My bad! I'm so very sorry that my way of slicing tomatoes is the wrong way! How thin should I cut them? Half an inch? A hairbreadth? Should I get a ruler to measure them?“ you deadpanned. „Well, newsflash, dipshit! Bite me! Up yours! Fuck you! The thickness of tomato slices? Are you fucking serious?“

„I am fucking serious, imbecille!“

„Well then, asshat, shut your fucking mouth and fucking listen to me!“ you snarled. „I can cook, and I'm trying to fucking please you, but when you fucking criticize everything I'm doing, then fucking do it yourself, because apparently you're so much fucking better than I am!“

„How many times can you-a say fucking in a sentence?“ Luciano wondered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

„Chiudi il becco, bastardo! (Shut your trap, bastard!)“ Lovino spat at him without so much as looking at him; his amber eyes were fixated on you. „And now you listen up, cretina! Your cooking skills are fucking horrible, dammit! I have the fucking right to criticize you!“

„They are not! Don't you fucking dare to insult my cooking skills, you fucking git!“ You jabbed your index finger against his chest repeatedly. „It fucking seems I can cook well enough to be allowed to cook here in this kitchen of your restaurant!“

„And I wonder why!“

„Because she-a can actually-a cook pretty well-a!“ Flavio remarked.

„I haven't fucking asked you, bastardo!“

„But he's fucking right!“

„He's not!“

„He is! And now shut the fuck up!“

„I won't, dammit!“

„Don't-a argue, please!“ Feliciano pleaded. He looked like he wanted to hug both of you, but he kept his distance. „Please make-a up, and then-a we all can eat-a pasta together!“

„Stay out of this, fratello!“

„Y'know, fucker, at first I thought – I fucking hoped you wouldn't be the asshole you seemed to be, but unfortunately you turned out just the fucking way I've hoped you wouldn't be. You're a fucking asshole who has nothing better to do than to slam others because they aren't as fucking great as you. I fucking hate people like you.“

Something flashed up in Lovino's eyes, and you couldn't believe your eyes as you saw hurt evident in his amber eyes; genuine, deep hurt. He made a face which turned into an angry grimace, but then he averted his gaze and took a step back.

You arched an eyebrow at his sudden change in behaviour, and your other eyebrow went up upon hearing him say in a low voice: „Well, seems like this turned out to be just like I've feared. Now you're hating me. Yet another person who hates me.“

The sadness in his eyes as he briefly glanced up at you tugged at your heartstrings, and your features softened into a faint smile. „What did you expect?“ you asked quietly. „Constantly yelling at people and criticizing them doesn't make them love you. Although I do.“

It can't get any worse right now, so to hell with it. You thought, awaiting his reaction to your rather subtle confession of your love to him. The worst that can happen right now is that I'm fired or that he rejects me. And if I shouldn't be fired, then I'll quit.

Lovino's head jerked up, and a wholehearted smile flitted across his face – the very first smile you had seen so far from him. „You don't hate me?“

„What did I just tell you, blockhead?“

„I just wanted to make sure that you mean it, idiota!“ he harrumphed.

„Of course I mean it, dimwit! Why the fuck should I lie about something important like this?“

„I don't fucking know, stupida!“

„Well, then I'll say it again! I fucking love you! Are you satisfied now, dumbass?“

„Sì! (Yes!)“

„Do you even love me too?“

„Come no! (Of course!)“

„Just-a fucking kiss already!“ Luciano exclaimed, throwing his hands up in an irritated manner. „You both have been wanting to do this-a for ages!“

You flashed him a crooked grin and flipped him the bird.

„Zitti! (Shut your mouth!)“ Lovino snapped, turning into Luciano's direction, his face flushed with anger – and probably from embarrassment too.

You grabbed his collar and yanked him down to you before he could shout at his cousin, pressing your lips against his and thus raising cheers from Feliciano, Flavio and Antonio. You felt Lovino smirking against your mouth and winked at him.

„I don't-a want to disturb your-a newly found love, but the-a guests are still waiting for-a their Caprese salads-a.“ Flavio eventually spoke up.

„Oh, fuck!“