A/N ;; Hey, guys! This is update number deux in my update-as-many-stories-as-possible-athon!

This chapter has been a long time coming, and it's actually really… eh. But don't worry! Since I know I can write so much better than this, I've decided that I'm going to put this story through a little edit. I'm going to clean up the writing, improve the scenes and character interactions, and after I'm done, it will be like this shitty story with no effort put into it never existed! I just recently read through what I've wrote thus far, and it made he think about how boring this is, and how much detail there could be. I love detail; it can make or break a story for me, and to look at my own halfassed story… There will be no plot changes. It will just look prettier when I'm done!

And now, I doubt that there will be another month-long update stretch before I upload chapter six. The five chapters I've written thus far aren't overly long, so I should be able to finish the edit relatively soon. I'd give me about three weeks before the next chapter comes up.

Tell Me Something I Don't Know

…o…

Chapter Five

…o…

Lovino had wanted to go back to work the next day, but because the manager had called and told him to stay home for one more day, he decided against that. Well, that and because Matthew had kicked the thin wall between their rooms when the Canadian had caught on to him trying and failing to convince the manager he was healthy enough to work that day. He'd had enough to Matthew's staredowns the day before, thanks.

He had woken up earlier than Matthew, though, like he usually did, so that was a sign that he was getting better.

And nearly an hour after Lovino woke up, Matthew trudged into the kitchen, groggy with his hair sticking up in every which direction. He hadn't even put on his glasses yet, having smelled the coffee Lovino had put on before he had even opened his bedroom door. He entered the kitchen in small, shuffled steps, knocking into both the couch and into a chair on his way. "It's so early," he mumbled, holding onto the counter before he could trip over his own feet, using his free hand to rub at his eyes. "Napo's not even awake yet."

Lovino looked over at him from where he was pouring coffee into his mug. "It's already seven."

Shrugging, Matthew ignored him, propping himself up onto one of the stools. "Pass the coffee, please," he yawned, resting his head against the island counter as he took a seat. He held out a weak hand as Lovino slid the pot over to him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, holding the pot closer to his face to feel the warmth. "Can I have a mug?"

Lovino turned away from him, leaning against the counter. He took a sip of his coffee. "Get one yourself."

"Please?" Matthew whimpered.

Lovino grunted, not giving anything else as a response. He set his mug down and walked away, heading towards the toaster and reaching into the cupboard to get the bread. Sighing dramatically, Matthew stood up and hobbled over to the cupboard beside the one Lovino was reaching in, taking out a worn red mug. It was the one Alfred had gotten him one year as a birthday present, and he had kept it for the last ten or so years. Sure, it was chipped and faded, but it was a gift from his brother and he cherished it all the same. Hanging the mug from two fingers, he jumped back on his stool as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Mmm," he mused, holding the mug under his nose to take a whiff. "There's nothing like caffeine and antioxidants in the morning to start the day off right."

Lovino raised an eyebrow as he approached with two saucers, a slice of toast on each of them. "Here," he said, sliding one of the plates towards Matthew.

Matthew looked up from his mug, pulled out of his thoughts. As his eyes caught sight of the plate in front of him, his eyebrows shot up higher than he even thought was possible in his lethargic state. "Wow, thanks," he said, trying to lessen the surprise in his voice.

Lovino grunted, beginning to peel the crust off his toast.

After finishing a second cup of coffee, Matthew stood up, feeling significantly more awake than he had when he had dragged himself out of his room. "Time to go to work," he grumbled, shooting Lovino a backwards glance before turning around and heading towards the washroom.

"Uh, hey," Lovino called, clearing his throat.

Matthew turned back, his toast still held in one hand. "Yes?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled as he popped the last of his food into his mouth.

Lovino frowned and look down at his coffee mug, his thumb carefully tracing along its rim. "Uh… thanks, for…" he paused, his cheeks reddening. "Thanks for last night. You know, the things you did."

Matthew paused. That was surprising, he thought, and kind of out of nowhere. Lovino had already thanked him the night before.

"Oh, okay?" Matthew yawned again, one arm stretching above his head while the other covered his mouth, covering the bread within it. "You already thanked me last night. Can I brush my teeth now?"

Lovino stood up straight, his eyebrows furrowing. "I was just thanking you," he snapped defensively.

"Yes, and I was just saying I wanted to brush my teeth," Matthew replied, holding his hands out in a peaceful manner. "I need to get to work."

His flatmate scoffed and took another sip of his coffee. "Then hurry up, or you'll be late," he said, turning away.

Matthew frowned.

He liked him better when Lovino was sick.

Matthew, despite his efforts, was still kind of late to work that day, but before the manager could start scolding him, he quickly conjured up a story that he was late because he had helped Lovino take his medication before leaving – which he had. Of course, he had exaggerated the story just a little bit in an attempt to make his story just a little bit more credible, but the manager didn't believe him. He had called Lovino earlier in the morning.

"Lovino's not here?" Belle frowned, looking over Matthew's shoulder as he headed towards the open kitchen.

"Good morning to you too, Belle," Matthew said cheerfully, ruffling her hair as he did every morning. "It's a pleasure to see you, too."

"Is he okay?" Elizabeta asked, handing an order to the chef.

"Yes. Unfortunately, he's getting better," Matthew muttered, fixing his vest.

The bell attached to the door rung, and Belle turned around to greet the customer, stopping as she spied a familiar face. "What a shame," she said. "Lovino's regular is here." She sighed, then immediately turned towards Matthew. "Go on, take his order."

"But…" Matthew protested feebly.

"Matt," Elizabeta interrupted, leaning against the counter as she watched him open the cupboard, taking out a row of ceramic mugs. "You do know that out of the four of us, you always get the fewest number of orders."

Matthew looked at her from over his shoulder, frowning. She was correct. Every day, Belle kept a tally sheet of how many people they each served that day, and he was always last. He had always thought it was just something to take bragging rights for, and not something that was suddenly being taken seriously.

"Sorry," he mumbled, setting the mugs out on the counter. "I'll do it."

"I'm just saying…" Elizabeta's voice lowered, her tone becoming more gentle. "All you have to do is take an order." She laughed, pushing off the counter, beginning to align the mugs Matthew had taken out. "You're not obligated to start talking and making long conversations with every person you serve."

Matthew felt his face redden. "I do not have long conversations with every person I take an order from," he huffed, frowning.

"You either do, or you don't talk enough," Belle added, standing beside Elizabeta. "Remember that one time when I had to drag you away from that couple when you started talking about Canada's national hockey team, and you wouldn't stop?"

"What? They started it!" he said. "They said they were fans!"

"Yes, but you didn't have to go into it that much," Belle was laughing now, which in turn made Elizabeta start laughing, which in turn made Matthew's frown deepen. "There's such a thing called small talk, you know."

"I know what small talk is…"

Suddenly, he found himself being pushed towards Lovino's regular. "Then go use it!"

Oh, he had fallen into their trap. Sighing, Matthew made sure to smoothen out the crease on his shirt and vest, taking out his notepad before he approached the man.

"Um, hello again," he mumbled as he stopped in front of his table, giving a small wave.

The man looked up at him. He smiled. "Good morning. Is…?"

"Um, he's sick," Matthew explained quickly, hoping that they were talking about the same thing – er, person. "Since yesterday."

"Oh," he said softly, obvious disappointment in his voice. Matthew felt himself bristle; he could take orders pretty well, and it wasn't as though he was a snooty waiter – sure, maybe he was one who either didn't socialize enough or socialized too much, but not snotty.

He cleared his throat. "So, what can I get for you?" he asked, raising his voice to catch the man's attention.

He skimmed through the menu quickly. "A cappuccino and an order of French toast," he said after a moment, handing the menu back to Matthew.

Matthew quickly wrote the order down – trying to ignore that little part of him that wondered if that was what Lovino took from the man every morning, or if there was a special order just for the Italian to take, because, you know, he was Lovino's regular.

"Is there anything else you–" Matthew paused. As he looked up from his notepad, his eyes fell on the man's neck – or, more specifically, at the small group of small, light red bruises that peeked just above his white collar.

He looked up, confused by Matthew's sudden silence, and it only took him a moment to figure out where Matthew's eyes had landed. He cleared his throat and laughed. "A date," he said, chuckling, pulling his collar higher to cover them. "A couple of nights ago."

Blinking, Matthew quickly turned away, embarrassed to having been caught staring. "Oh, I'm sorry," he mumbled, his face quickly brightening. He would have covered his face with his notepad if it wasn't so small.

So, he was officially a nosy waiter and one that didn't know when to cut the line of socializing. Great.

The man smiled brightly. "It's alright! Yes, that's all I'm having."

When he finally returned to the counter to hand the order to the chef, his head turned towards the ground the entire walk there, Matthew proceeded to give himself a mental bashing for being so tactless. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he hissed, ducking behind the counter so no one would see him berating himself.

Of course, someone would have to notice. Elizabeta stepped into the open kitchen, looking down to see Matthew crouched before her, his knees bent close to his chest and his face buried in his jeans as he tried to rid himself of the blatant embarrassment flushed all over his face. "What happened, Matt?" she asked, a slight hint of laughter in her voice.

He looked up at her wearily. "Lovino's regular caught me staring at the hickeys on his neck," he groaned. Hearing it aloud only made him relive the embarrassment.

"Wait, were you were blatantly staring?" she asked, leaning against the counter as she looked down at him. "You couldn't, you know, discreetly glance at it from the corner of your eye like any normal person would?"

Matthew's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm so stupid…" he muttered.

Great.

Now he was a nosy, socially inept waiter who didn't know when to cut the line of small talk.

It was getting late, the shop's traffic was beginning to slow, and Matthew yawned as he fixed an order on a tray. The day had gone by surprisingly quickly, but what sucked about working in such a nice café were the evenings. He was trying his best to stay awake, but the café had a nice, hazy, romantic atmosphere during the evening – and keeping himself alert and awake was a very difficult task indeed.

"What time is it?" he asked, catching his head back before it fell on the counter.

Elizabeta stopped beside him, setting down one tray only to pick another one up. "Nearing nine – and there's a customer," she said just as the bell rung.

"Where's Belle?" he asked, picking his own tray up.

"Restroom," Elizabeta answered quickly, walking away to serve the food. "The customer is sitting by the door. Just get her order when you're done serving that."

Sighing, Matthew knelt down just a bit to carefully balance the tray on his hand. He slowly stood up, making sure it wasn't going to fall, and headed for its assigned table. As soon as the food was set down and he was heading back towards the kitchen, he began to scan the room, searching for the new customer – and he nearly dropped the empty tray when he realized who it was.

And thus Matthew found himself hiding behind the counter for the second time that day.

Just coming out of the washroom, Belle raised an eyebrow at the sight that greeted her – a paranoid Matthew hugging his knees close to his chest, as if he had just seen a ghost.

"What is it?" she asked, interest peaking in her voice.

Carefully, Matthew stuck his head out from behind the counter before quickly ducking back down. "I can't take her order," he said quietly.

"Who's?" Belle arched her neck.

He jabbed a finger over his shoulder. "The girl, sitting by the door – I can't take her order."

Belle looked over the woman and frowned. "Why not, Matt? She looks decent – very pretty, actually," she said, returning her gaze towards Matthew.

The Canadian sighed, his shoulders slumping against the counter.

Execruatingly bored at home, Lovino decided to drop by the coffee shop just before closing hour. He entered through the back entrance, holding onto Napolitano's leash as he opened the door. There weren't a lot of customers this late at night, so he easily stepped into the open kitchen, noticing Belle completely ignoring the food waiting around her.

"Belle," he called, drawing her attention to him. "What are you doing?"

She quickly turned around, and her eyes brightened as she saw him. "Lovino, you came! I haven't seen you in a while!" Lovino's free arm came around her as she wrapped her arms around his waist, one side of his mouth quirking up. "So, how did you get better?" she asked, speaking into the fabric of his shirt. "Did Matthew sit at your bedside the entire night and pop pills into your mouth?"

"No," Lovino grumbled, bristling, and Belle stepped away from him.

"Of course," she mused, smiling before turning back to the sight that had so successfully held her attention beforehand.

"Belle, there's so much food here," he said, hastily grabbing trays from their stack and setting orders on them. "Where's Liz? Matthew?"

"Liz is with someone right now… and Matt's with a girl," Belle explained, her eyes focused on Matthew and said girl.

"That's why there's so much food here?" Lovino asked, irritated. Matthew either talked too much or too little; there was no grey area. He set his head down as he focused on setting each cup of coffee or dish on a tray without ruining their garnishing.

Belle looked over at him out of the corner of her eye. "Don't they make a nice couple?" she asked curiously, tilting her head towards Matthew and the girl he was speaking with. Lovino found himself peeking above the counter, watching as the girl laughed and Matthew smiled. He could feel his own jaw clench at the sight. "Makes me wonder why they ever broke up…"

A/N ;; This chapter… Oh, this chapter… is so, so bad. I'm sorry, guys, but this was one of the stories I promised myself I would update on my two year anniversary, so I had to write something for it. After the edit for it is through, it will be like a new story!

Oh, I saw something amusing. During the month-long hiatus for this story, I received an anon message on Tumblr (from when I posted the first chapter of this story on my writing blog) that contained one sentence that I think sums up all my readers:

Thank you for making the best character I've ever read on a piece of fanfiction – the dog, Napolitano, whose average of around three sentences per chapter have rocked my world. – Anon

Guys, that there represents like half of my readers. Seriously.

Stay awesome, guys.