"Yesss? I'm in heeeere!"
Germany turned the corner and stepped into the kitchen. His baby blue eyes dimmed when he saw Italy, of course, making pasta. Little Italy turned, a smile imprinted on his face, his eyes glistening.
"Ima makin da pasta!"
"Ves, I see zat." Germany facepalmed. "You make zat every damn day."
Italy's smile faded. "Oh, but Germany. There's a-so many ways to make-a da pasta! Let me show you!" He grabbed the German's hand and pulled him into the pantry. There was a whole other world, made completely of Italian food. The door shut behind them, and Italy summoned Germany by a pull of the arm. He ran ahead into a bowl of pasta.
"Vait!" Germany ran after the gender-neutral-pasta-loving-idiot.
"See? Look at all of da pasta you can make!" Italy threw his hands in the air. Floating bowls of pasta were floating in the blue sky.
Germany was ultimately confused.
"I love pasta, don't you?" Italy embraced himself. "Oh, da flavor. Oh, da warmth!"
Germany found himself blushing. He began to wonder if Italy tasted like pasta. His eyes shut.
Vait, no! Italy is zust a friend! Vy am I zinking of him like zis?
When he opened his eyes, he was alone in the pantry. The door behind him was open. He turned to see Italy, who was frantically wiping up water off the stove.
"Oh, it-a spilt! It boiled over! It's all-a my fault! I got-a distracted! I got-a distracted from-a da pasta by da pasta! All da pasta! My poor-a pasta! Oh, no!"
Italy continued screaming at himself.
"Oh, Italy, bro!" America smiled widely after taking his seat at the dinner table. "What'd you made for din-din today? I'm starving. I ate at China's house only a small while ago, but, ya know, that didn't fill me up for over thirty minutes-"
"Dat is because you are a pig." Japan mumbled, loud enough for everybody to hear.
"Yes, indeed." France giggled and flipped his hair. The smell of fresh picked flowers filled the air after he did so. "Americans are so… how do you say… pig."
America shot a glare at France, but got distracted by a plate being set in front of him. "Oh, food!"
"Pasta!" Italy nodded.
Russia awkwardly smiled. "Oh, more pasta, Italy?"
"Ah, yes, but dis is a special pasta!" he took his place after serving everybody. "I put in extra flavors this time! It's-a good! Eat up!"
Germany sat in his seat and took a bite.
Ah, it's… sweet... but saucy at the same time… perhaps with a small spice?
"Vell, zis is good, Italy."
"Yes, I like." Japan bowed his head slightly.
"Pretty damn good, dude!" America gave thumbs up.
"Indeed, it is." Britain nodded.
The countries all joined in, complimenting Italy's work. The sight of Italy's red cheeks made Germany red as well. He began stuffing his face to play it off.
"Ah, now I must ask." France chuckled. "Does Italy taste this good?"
Italy looked up, confused. "Oh, well- eh…"
Germany slammed his fists on the counter, startling everyone. "You are vong for asking Italy such a zing!"
"Jearous?" China laughed into his sleeve.
Germany stood, embarrassed, and left the dining hall.
The countries were quiet.
"Oh, no... Germany!" Italy stood to chase him.
Everybody looked at France.
"I-I-I… I'm not gay." He stuffed his mouth, and ended up choking on a noodle.
"Germany…?" Italy stood a few feet from his friend. "Are you okay?"
Germany's hands bunched up into fists. "Zat stupid France. Vat vas he zinking?"
Italy put his hands up in a defensive manner. "Oh no, don't-a worry about-a me! France was-a probably drunk? Yes! Yes, dat's it! France is-a romantic drunk, yes!"
Germany turned to Italy. Emotions took over as he pulled him into his arms. At first, Italy was startled, but after a few seconds, he rested his hands on Germany's hips. The feeling of Italy's response sent Germany's heart a-flutter.
"I'm sorry." He mumbled.
"No, it's okay!" Italy smiled. "Everybody needs-a hugs sometimes!"
"I'm sorry for acting like zat while eating za food you made for us." Germany corrected. "I vas, as China said, jealous."
"I don't vant anybody but me to know vat you taste like." He whispered into Italy's ear.
Italy finally processed everything. "Ah, now I see. Okay, I won't-a make-a da sweet pasta for anybody but you from now on!"
Germany couldn't help but to smile at the man's idiocy. "You dumbass."
"What-a did I-"
Germany slipped his lips between Italy's. Italy's heart melted and he kissed back without hesitation. They both lost count on how many seconds it lasted.
When their lips departed, Germany blushed. "I lo-"
"Oh, Germany a-kissed me!" Italy's face was red. He covered his huge smile and retreated down the hall.
Germany watched after him and smiled.
"I love you, Italy." His voice was but a whisper.
"Stop." Japan abruptly stated, snapping his head toward the door.
All the countries watched him, scared.
"What is it?" Canada whispered.
Nobody said a word.
"What is it?" America whispered.
A sound of worry and confusion hummed over the table.
Canada sunk into his seat. He'd been ignored again.
"I…" Japan paused. "I smell… yaoi…"