Second Chance (A Hetalia Fanfic)

Pasta

When we got to the kitchen, I gingerly walked over to the marble counter, my feet aching with every step. No wonder Ludwig carried me; because of my feet, it would now be pretty painful for me to walk. But the pain lessened somewhat after he treated me, so I'm sure I'll be fine.

Feliciano, who was one step ahead of me, happily pulled out a large, metal pot, filled it up with water, and placed it on the stove. Turning up the heat, he noticed my wandering grey eyes, and skipped over to me.

"Ve, do you want to help cook, bambino?" he asked, titling his head in question.

I shrugged, letting a smile slip onto my lips. "Um, okay." And with that, I started to take out the needed ingredients, passing them to the Italian as he cut tomatoes.

"Grazi~ Andy," he thanked, before starting to make the sauce on the stove. The mouth watering scent of said sauce cooking soon filled the air, and I felt my tummy rumble impatiently.

I was never a pasta person (my Nonna made it so much, everyone eventually got sick of the dish), but, I didn't eat since...well, since I died. Fact is, when you're practically starving, you aren't really as picky as you used to be. Seriously, I was so hungry, I could eat a cow.

Staring hungrily at the bag of spaghetti, I took the initiative to open the thing, eagerly pouring it into the pot of boiling water. But, being the clumsy awkward beanpole that I am, I managed to nearly knock the pot over while doing so.

Feliciano (who was apparently quicker than he looked) was by my side in an instant, quickly stopping said pot from tumbling over. But, he did not stop a spatter of hot water from landing on my pinkie finger.

I hissed in pain on impact, jerking my hand away as a reflex.

The Italian, looked at me, his big brown eyes full of concern. "Andy, ve, are you alright?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"It's just a small burn, nothing serious," I reassured, examining my-now throbbing red pinkie.

Feliciano nodded, his happy attitude returning. "Ve, Could I see it?" I slowly extended my arm, showing him the burn. In response, the man suddenly grabbed my wrist, scaring the living daylights out of me.

"What are you-?" I started, but was interrupted when Feliciano gave my pinkie a small kiss, smiling as he released me.

"There! All better~!"

I felt myself blush; oh God this was so embarrassing.

The Italian, a pleased smile on his face, skipped over to the stove, glancing at me slightly. "Hey, the pasta is all cooked now! Let's eat~!"

A couple of minutes later, after setting the table, Feliciano and I sat side by side, me reaching for the tongs to get some of that delicious looking, sauce-drenched spaghetti. But, he stopped me, tutting.

"We have to say prayers first, Andy~" the man chimed, folding his hands together.

Feeling albeit a bit awkward, I slowly did the same, not really used to having to pray before dinner. I had a lot of other things on my mind back at the hospital; I had no time to pray. Plus, my parents were Agnostic, so they didn't believe in that sort of thing anyways.

"Thank you Lord for all this yummy food," Feli began, his eyes closed. "And thank you for letting me meet this bambino, Andy, today, ve," And with that, he looked at me expectantly. Feeling put on the spot, I thought up of something quick and simple.

"Um, thanks to...Feli and Ludwig for helping me..." I said cautiously, unsure if that was good enough.

The Italian gave me a quick smile of approval. "Let's eat~!"

And with that, I began to (rather disgustingly) shovel pasta down my throat, not stopping for a second. When I was satisfied, I leaned back, patting my stomach happily, which was still (for some strange reason) flat as a board.

I then noticed Feliciano's surprised brown eyes staring at me with curiosity. "Andy, you eat like America, ve~" he noted.

I looked at him with confusion. "America? But that's a country..."

Realizing his mistake, the man quickly covered for himself. "I meant Alfred! Alfred eats like you," he finally said, munching on his own pile of pasta.

In response, I noisily slurped up a noodle. "Yeah, sorry about that. I'm just really hungry, that's all," I said through a mouth full of spaghetti. Swallowing, I suddenly stood up. "Feli, do you know where the washroom is?"

He nodded, his little curl bobbing up and down, and pointed in the direction. "Down that hall and to the right, ve."

Speeding off in that direction, practically slamming the door open, I went, sighing with relief. I then flushed the toilet, and began to wash my hands.

I left the washroom once finished- only for me to walk right into someone.

Wincing some upon the impact, I blinked; examining the person in front of me. He was a (quite short) Japanese man, with cropped raven hair that framed his face. When he looked back at me, the man gave a respectful bow, saying a small "Gomennesi."

"Uh, I don't understand you..." I replied sheepishly.

"Gomennesi. It means 'sorry' in Japanese," he explained, his milk chocolate coloured eyes scanning me briefly. The man frowned. "May I ask who you are?"

xxXxx

And Japan comes into the picture! Hope you like chapter three, guys! I tried to include some of fluff in it :3

Comment + vote please! You will get piping hot spaghetti and meatballs if you do!

xxx

chilichapstick