Fandom: Hetalia

Rating: M for swearing, and heading towards adult themes...

Pairing: Alfred/Lovino, others later(?)

Summary: Lovino stared at him, eyes wide, a blush starting to rise – and then Alfred grinned, his normal huge dumb smile, and took a big bite of bruschetta. Alfred wants to learn to cook, and Lovino teaches him. They both learn a little more along the way. AU, human names used.

pomme d'amour

"Va bene, let's see what you've got," Lovino said as he shouldered his way past Alfred through the door, ignoring the "Hi Lovino!" greeting from the other man. It wasn't hard to find the kitchen, in the small house. He remembered he had been invited over before, a long time ago. Not since then, though.

The kitchen looked like it had been cleaned recently – good, maybe that meant Alfred was serious about learning to cook, which meant Lovino wasn't wasting every single second of his time here. He laid his bags on the counter and went to the first cupboard, opening it to inspect its contents.

"Uh, what are you looking for?"

"Need to see what you have – or don't have, which is apparently anything fit for human consumption," Lovino said. He peered into the last cupboard, which held nothing but four cereal boxes, three of them empty. He shook one at Alfred, the little cereal leftovers rattling accusingly. "Why don't you just throw them away?" And everybody thought he was lazy, but there was no point in wasting precious shelf space.

"Er -" Alfred started to shrug, but Lovino just turned away.

"Bene, let's get started."

"But -"

"I brought everything." Lovino unpacked his bags, neatly arranging everything on the counter in front of him.

"Mattie and I have a garden," Alfred continued.

Lovino paused. "Sì?" He spied a cutting board, pulling it in front of him.

"Large mixing bowl," he told Alfred. He pulled open a drawer, looking for a cutting knife. He found a couple pushed into the very back. Oh Dio, they were awful, cheap plastic Wal-Mart things that should be tossed into a bottomless pit. He'd have to get new ones. Good ones. Well, Alfred would, that is.

"I can show you -"

"I need a large mixing bowl, sciocco," Lovino said again, louder.

"Ooookay," Alfred said slowly, and a few seconds later a plastic mixing bowl was placed in front of him.

One last and final preparation. Lovino flapped his apron clear of folds, wrapped the strings twice around himself, tying it in the front.

Lovino turned to see Alfred was just watching. "Apron?"

"Oh! Well, I don't think we have one. I don't really need one, do I?"

Lovino flicked his eyes up and down Alfred once. "Of course you do! You'll get crap all over yourself, or worse! On the food!"

Alfred's mouth was opening in protest, an 'o' of denial. Idiot.

"Bene, wear mine," Lovino said, untying his and throwing it at Alfred. "Okay, stand here," he said as Alfred finished tying the apron around himself. Alfred moved obediently to his side.

"We're making bruschetta. We'll start with -"

"Where's the recipe?"

Lovino exhaled loudly. "You don't need a recipe when you're with me, sciocco! You can look those up on your own." Lovino slid the cutting board so it was more in front of Alfred. "First, cut the tomatoes into small squares." He handed Alfred one of the knives. "I'll cut up the bread into slices, and then we toast them in the oven."

"'kay," Alfred moved to cut the tomatoes.

"Ends off first! Christo, don't squish them!"

Alfred paused, knife hovering. "Okay okay! Chill, dude. I forgot how much you like tomatoes."

Did everyone know about that...? Lovino pushed that thought from his mind as he sliced into the loaf of bread. "Tomatoes are the very basis for Italian food, you know."

"I thought Antonio's restaurant was Span -"

"They were first used in Italy!" Lovino could hear the blood rushing in his ears, but Alfred was quiet. Surprisingly. Was he so oblivious? Lovino kind of hoped so.

"No one knew what they were – well the Europeans didn't, they thought they were poisonous and used them to decorate gardens only. Italians, certo, were smarter than that." Lovino, having more experience, was done with the bread quickly. He watched Alfred cut up the lovely, bright red romas. "Pommi dei mori."

"Hmm?"

Lovino jumped. "They – the French fucked up the translation, of course, calling them 'apples of love' because they thought they were – a way to bring passion." Dio, he needed to shut up!

"Ha ha! I bet they would," said Alfred.

Lovino quickly continued on. "Those are romas, a kind of plum tomato. They're good for soups and pastes, too."

Alfred nodded, finishing the last slice.

"Use the flat of the blade to scoop them into the bowl," Lovino instructed.

"Like this?"

"Sì."

After Alfred had moved all the tomato pieces into the bowl, Lovino picked up the cutting board and rinsed it off. He placed it back in front of Alfred.

"Okay, now we chop the basil." Lovino had brought some leaves from his own plant at home.

"Hey, I think we have this out in our garden!" Alfred said.

"Sì? Well, good for you." Lovino turned to get the metal pan he had seen earlier, for toasting the bread slices. He came back to the counter to see Alfred mutilating the basil leaves.

"No, no! Christo, do you know nothing?"

"Jeez! Okay, so what do I -"

"Roll the leaves like a cigar." Lovino mimed the motion with his fingertips. Alfred put down the knife and picked up a leaf.

"No, stack them on top of each other. So you only have to do it once." Alfred shuffled the leaves together and rolled them into a clumsy bundle.

"Okay, now you chop." Lovino moved around Alfred so he was on his left side. He was so broad, like a mountain – Lovino pressed into his shoulder in order to reach his hand, curling his fingers on top of Alfred's.

"Curl your fingers down, so the blade hits the knuckle instead. Like this." He removed his hand so Alfred could try. Slowly, fingers curled, Alfred started moving the knife up and down.

"Keep the point down on the board and just move the handle." Lovino peered around Alfred's arm, watching Alfred painstakingly chop the basil.

"It's harder than it looks on TV!" Alfred said. He finished chopping and then looked down at Lovino, who was still pressed in close next to him. "You sure know a lot, Lovino!" he said, smiling.

Lovino stepped back abruptly.

"It's just -" he paused, groped for works "- practice."

Alfred nodded as he scraped up the basil with his knife. "Into the bowl, right?"

"Sì. Garlic next." Lovino helped Alfred peel off two cloves from the bulb and take the skin off of them. Alfred practiced his chopping skills by mincing the garlic. Lovino turned on the oven to the broil setting.

"Ok, the rest is much easier. Parmesan cheese, olive oil, salt, pepper -"

"We've got those!" Alfred interrupted.

"- all into the bowl, then mix." Lovino proceeded to put the rest of the ingredients in.

"But how do you know how much to put in?"

"Practice," Lovino said again.

"That doesn't help me," Alfred said. "I'm not a professional ch -"

"A dash of salt and pepper, same amount for olive oil." Lovino said forcefully. "You can always add more. But no less, sì?"

"Got it!"

One could only hope, Lovino thought.

"Mix up the bowl," Lovino instructed. "Bread goes into the oven for about 10 minutes or so." He slid the pan onto the top rack, closed the oven door, and went to check on Alfred.

"Not too much! Christo, you don't have to beat them to death!" He took the spoon from Alfred and crowded him out of the way. "Look. Just – gentle, enough to coat the tomatoes with the spices."

Alfred peered over his shoulder, watching carefully. "Right, okay. So, when do we eat?"

"Christo! Ten minutes, I just said!" Lovino huffed and went to open the bottle of wine he had brought with him.

"What's that for?"

"You can't eat Italian food without wine, sciocco!" Luckily he had brought his own bottle opener.

"Do you have a bottle opener?" he asked as an afterthought.

"Er, no? I don't think so...I'll ask Mattie though."

"You'll need to get one."

Alfred looked surprised. "Really? I don't even drink wine, though."

Lovino glared at him. "If you want to learn how to cook, you're going to need the proper tools. I'll make you a list," he declared.

"What, like Julia Child?" Alfred joked. "I won't even remember how to cook after – wait, what do you mean, list?"

Lovino pulled two glasses from the cupboard – nothing even resembling wine glasses, even, dear Gesù! "Set the table," he said sharply.

"Shouldn't I get to -"

"No discussion," Lovino said. "Table. Set."

Alfred sighed and went to get plates. Lovino poured two glasses of wine and set them on the counter for Alfred to pick up. He opened up the oven and pulled out the pan, touching the bread to see how toasted it was. Acceptable, so he set down the pan on top of the stove and hung the towel he was using as an oven mitt back in its place. The bread was quickly moved to another plate and the tomato mixture deposited onto the top.

Lovino carried the plate to the table and placed it between him and Alfred.

"Finally!" Alfred reached his hand forward, only to have Lovino smack it. Hard.

"Manners!" he hissed, and Alfred clutched his hand to himself, scowling. Lovino bent his head and sent a quick prayer upward. Or downward, or sideways, whatever you have.

"Amen," he said firmly, raising his head. "Now we eat."

Alfred was quick to move a few pieces of bruschetta to his plate and take a large bite out of one.

"Mmph, s'good!" He said, eyes opened wide in surprise.

"Of course it is!" Lovino snapped. He took a bite himself and chewed slowly. Just a bit too much garlic, actually, but he doubted if Alfred would notice. Alfred was on his second piece, picking up bits of tomatoes that had fallen to his plate and stuffing them into his mouth at the same time. Apparently he didn't eat only hamburgers, after all.

Alfred was done with his portion in a disturbingly short amount of time – did he even taste what he was eating, Lovino wondered, or did it work like a vacuum cleaner? – and looked at Lovino questioningly.

Lovino shrugged, enjoying his food at a normal pace, and Alfred quickly took added more bruschetta onto his plate. He ate slightly slower this time around.

"This is really good, Lovino," he said again.

Lovino just ignored him, taking a long sip of wine. Of course it was!

"Thanks for helping me," Alfred said in a lower voice, and his hand touched Lovino's knee. Lovino stared at him, eyes wide, a blush starting to rise – and then Alfred grinned, his normal huge dumb smile, and took a big bite of bruschetta.

"Sciocco," Lovino said between bites.

Notes & translations:

va bene = okay

bene = fine, good

sì = yes

Dio = God

sciocco = stupid

Christo = Christ

certo = of course

Gesù = Jesus

*Okay, author wants to let readers know I'm a very bad cook in RL! But I'm actually making/have made these recipes, in order to help write the fic (best idea ever, btw).

*Author also does not know Italian very well! Just a few words. If you catch something terribly wrong please let me know!

*'pommi dei mori' is Italian for 'apple of the Moors,' which somehow got translated into French as 'pomme d'amour,' or 'apple of love'.

*The tomato is a much more important part of traditional food in southern Italy.

*Julia Child enjoyed drinking wine while cooking. That's the way to do it, Julia.

*search youtube for how to cut basil, if you're interested.

*All the videos I looked up about dicing tomatoes had them leaving out the seeds! What a waste. Like one person commented on a video, the juices and seeds add flavor. I like to think that Romano, coming from the poorer provinces of Italy, wouldn't have wasted it either!