❦Oʈhɛɼ Worɭɗʂ╎ Lucid Dream ╎ S. Italy ❦South Italy/Romano X Reader. (Hetalia) Sadly, the final portion of this series. And perhaps on the longer side. /// Cooking classes don’t seem to be your forte. And it doesn’t help that one of the assistants is a rather large distraction./// Fluff.
To be a better person.
“Now you’re going to cut your vegetables into small strips, like so.” Feliciano said, deftly cutting the peppers on the cutting board. The small group around you eagerly scribbled on their notepads, writing down every detail said by the teacher. You took acute note of everything spoken, not wanting to fail miserably during cooking class again.
“Hey big brother—could you get me those zucchini over there?” He asked Romano, who stood by the counter, silently rolling dough. He grumbled over to where the zucchini lay, slamming the vegetable back onto the table.
“Remember Romano, we must treat the vegetables gently, ve~.”
Romano spat out something in angry Italian; no doubt the words coming with malignant intent. Feliciano kept cheerfully talking however, oblivious to his brother, who retreated back to the dough.
Your eyes followed the disgruntled Italian, who stood rolling small pieces of the dough, forming them into small little balls. You watched in awe as he pushed them into a metal press, creating long strings of pasta. Suddenly, his head flicked around as he felt the weight of your stare, olive orbs glaring into your own. You quickly turned away, pretending to furiously scribble in your notepad.
“Okay, everybody. Why don’t we all try out this dish for ourselves?” Feliciano said, releasing the group to their workstations. You hesitantly walked over to your own while cursing at your easy distraction.
Picking up the nearest pepper, you set it down on the cutting board, and reached for the knife. Its sharp blade gleamed as it showed a mirror reflection of a [h/c] girl. You proceeded to cut the peppers at your station, gingerly making sure not cut yourself in the process.
After the vegetables lay in a brightly colored heap, you went to put them in the pan. You poured what seemed to be olive oil over them, and turned the dial of the stove up, the blue flames licking the edges of the pan.
Maybe today you weren’t going to mess up. And maybe today would bring you one step closer to becoming a better cook.
While you were waiting you took a moment to check your phone, scrolling through the messages.
“Hey, idiota, what do you think you’re doing?!” You turned to the sound of the voice, but were confronted with a blazing fire erupting from your pan instead.
Yelping, you jumped back from the pan, upsetting the equipment at your station, knives raining down onto the floor. Romano doused the flames with an extinguisher, while the rest of the class watched, agog.
Feliciano’s ever-present smile fell, but was quickly brought back to life. “Let’s keep working, everyone!” He ushered the groups back to their stations, pausing to speak quietly in Italian to Romano.
Gruffly, Romano dragged you out of the room and into the back kitchen. “Don’t touch anything, okay?” You stared at the shiny silver backsplash, sighing. What if you were expelled from cooking class?
Romano walked through a door and came out moments later, carrying a small first aid kit. Scooting over a stool, he gestured for your hand. A small slash on your hand was there that you had never noticed, dribbling deep crimson blood. He gently took your delicate digits and wrapped them in gauze.
“It’s like cooking hates me.” You said, moodily looking at your bandaged hand.
“Cooking can’t hate you—it doesn’t work like that.” He released your hand. “But when you don’t pay attention, it may seem like it, bella. Why the hell did you put that in your vegetables?”
“I thought it was olive oil…” You stared down at the tile floor.
“Well it obviously wasn’t.” Romano said in annoyance. Silence fell upon the room, interrupted by the occasional sizzle from the kitchen next door.
Your heart sunk. “Listen…I’m really sorry about the trouble I caused you. If you give me a chance, I can—“
“Stai zitto! I’m tired of listening to you apologize. I never said I was giving any chances to you.” Romano said angrily as he cut you off.
Small tears welled up in your eyes, crushing you in your defeat.
“It’s not like I’m going to force you out. You’re here to cook, si?” He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Dammit.” Romano said, brushing tears away from your eyes. “You’re crying now.”
Taking a deep breath, his olive orbs yet again met your own. “I’m going to be here later tonight. If you really want to learn to be a better cook, come and I can give you some pointers.”
You nodded your head slowly, sniffling. “Thanks.”
“Here’s one tip. Pay attention to the instructor at all times.” Romano said, as he stood back up and tied on his apron.
“Otherwise the instructor might get distracted. Because honestly, I haven’t been able to cut straight ever since you came in, bella.”
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