West Italy (HETALIA)

Chapter 1

"What do you see?" Lovino, hidden in the bushes, demanded of his younger brother.

"There's a cute little kitty sleeping under the bush!"

"Damn it Feliciano, give me those!" Lovino snatched the bright pink binoculars his brother was holding "...Did you have to get the fucking pink ones?"

"Ve?" Feliciano blinked at comfusion, "Of course, the only other option was brown. Brown's so dull!"

"God Feli, you're so fucking gay." Lovino rolled his eyes, lifting the glasses to meet them. "Now let's see what he's up to..."

"What's he doing?"

Lovino peered through the binoculars into the other Nation's window. "It looks like hes cooking something...there's a big pot on the stove."

"That's good! We like to cook!"

"Yeah, but not like America. Have you seen the shit he eats?"

"Ve...What's he doing now?"

"Still cooking."

The older Italy cheked. "Still cooking."

There were a moment of silence.

"...What about now?"

Lovino lowered the binoculars and turned to face Feliciano."Mio dio, he's still cooking. He's going to continue to cook until he's done. And when that happens, I'll be sure to tell you. But until then, he's. Still. Fucking. Cooking."

"...Hey Lov-"

"If you finish that sentence, I swer I'm going to-"

"Yo, Italies! How's it going?"

Lovino shrienked at the sudden appearance of their stalkee with pitcher of lemonade and two glasses in hand. "Please don't hurt me! I'm relative to your country!"

"I think he's done cooking. Fratello," Feliciano added helpfully.

America, oblivious to the byplay, grinned at the two. "I dind't know the two of you bird watched."

"It's not what it-wait, what?"

"You looked hot out here so I thought I'd bring you some lemonade," America lifted the pitcher he was holding.

Lovino stared at the pitcher before frantically to his brother. "He's on to us!"

The Italian brothers whipped out their white flags, turned on their heel, and began running for the hills.

"Huh? Where are you guys going? You just got here!" America yelled at their retreating forms. "I'm making pasta!"

Feliciano and Lovino stopped on a dime, faced each other, and quickly ran backwards.

"What did you say?" Feliciano asked with hopeful eyes.

"...I'm making pasta?"

Feliciano began to tear up. "He likes pasta... Fratello, he likes past! That's definitely proof, right?"

Lovino nodded. "Definitely. What Italian doesn't like pasta?"