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First it was a simple sandwich.
Roderich stared at the two pieces of bread with stuffing wrapped into plastic film that somebody placed in front of him. Raising his head he saw it was Spain.
"I thought you looked hungry." Antonio shrugged, lips stretching into a sheepish smile.
"I am, in fact, but I can just go to the snack machines."
"Those are really unhealthy! Also, we only got a 10 minutes break and they are far." He leant his hip on the edge of the table, by Roderich's side.
"By definition, wouldn't I then compensate the unhealthiness with exercise? Besides, what about you, if I eat your sandwich?
Antonio chuckled. "Just take it, Ruy. And I'm alright, I had a big breakfast."
Roderich raised an eyebrow. As far as he knew, Antonio never took strong breakfasts. Then again, maybe he did today and so wasn't hungry, unlike Roderich himself.
"Thank you, I skipped mine." Because he overslept. Unwrapping the top of the sandwich he bit into it and couldn't hold back a satisfied moan. "God, when did you get so good at this?"
Maybe it was his hunger talking, but the sandwich was really heaven between two rustic loaves. Spain had rubbed ripe tomato into the bread and arranged fresh lettuce on both sides. In the middle he stuffed minced albacore in olive oil and mixed it with, obviously homemade, mayo. Finally, an extra-thin slice of hard goat cheese to give it a special edge.
Austria took another bite, letting out a tiny, happy noise again. Swallowing, he looked up, only to catch Spain staring at him with wide eyes.
"What?"
Antonio seemed to be caught off guard; he visibly twitched and then looked away, scratching at the back of his neck with an embarrassed blush. "Nothing, just... I'm glad you like it."
"Hmm-" Austria bit into the sandwich again, a small portion this time, determined to make the pleasure last. "I remember when I was better than you at cooking."
"I'm sure you still are- well, not better, but mm... different. Very good. Tis not a competition" He laughed softly. Shaking his head.
Roderich smiled, but kept eating, covering his mouth with his hand when he spoke. "Aren't you and France always competing about food?"
Antonio rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Francis is not nearly as superior as he thinks he is. Somebody just needs to knock his fumes down."
"That's not an expression, Toni."
Spain furrowed his brow, looking up with a pout. "Right, mistranslation. He needs help getting off his high horse. Either way - down."
Austria had to cover his mouth again to chuckle. He finished eating his sandwich with Spain's amicable presence by his side babbling small talk. Right until the meeting break was over and Antonio had to return to his seat.
***
Two weeks later Roderich was about to be dragged by his brother into the mountains, when a heavily protected package was delivered to his home.
"What is this?" Bavaria scrunched up his nose in confusion, unwrapping a long sort of pie, or calzone, but rectangular and the size of half a baking sheet. He broke away an edge and furrowed his brows when a stark black mush with clearer bits came out.
Austria picked up the card attached to the inside of the package.
Rodri dear,
I hope you are not skipping any more meals. Just to be sure I'm sending you this cuttlefish empanada in their own ink sauce. I hope it arrives soon, the delivery service promised one day max. Hope you like it!
- Toni.
"Who is this from?"
Austria decided to be cocky, saving away the card in his pocket. "A secret admirer."
He broke a piece off the pie, uncaring that it stained his fingers in black and put it in his mouth. He tasted the ocean and the wheat fields and, so fitting for squid ink, a certain undertone of fine poetry in the combination that practically melted on his tongue.
"Ooooh my goood. Looks weird but holy shit!" Bavaria slapped his shoulder repeatedly, stuffing another big piece into his mouth. He managed to swallow and gave Austria a thumb up. "Whoever that secret admirer of yours is, keep him on the hook."
"That proved to be difficult in the past." Roderich remarked, popping another piece into this moth. It really had an addicting taste.
"Oh- oooooh!" Bavaria's eyebrows shot up, apparently having made the connection between seafood and Austria's comment. "Well, the least you can do is to send him something in return, as thanks."
That was a good idea. Roderich spent the next day thinking about what to make Spain in return. He settled for something he knew he was really good at, knowing well that Antonio would appreciate the gift more if it was personal. So he bought all the ingredients in the evening and set the alarm for early the next morning. He overslept just a bit and spent half the day tenderly crafting a beautiful Linzer Torte. He put special attention into carving the patterns on the top sheet, and applying the ring of laminated almonds on the borders.
As soon as he was done he stared proudly at it. Feeling an excited flapping of butterfly's wings in his gut. He put as much of his soul into this cake as he had, and hoped it translated into the taste.
After slapping half a dozen "don't turn over", "fragile" and "urgent" stickers on the box in the delivery service office, he sent if over with good wishes and a card.
The next day he was interrupted during his evening violin practice by a string of text messages, including selfies of Spain in running gear stuffing his face with cake.
T: BEST SURPRISE DELIVERY OF MY LIFE!!!!
T: THANK YOU ♥
T: YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO!
R: I wanted to. It was nice of you and the cuttlefish empanada was delicious. I hope the cake is good as well.
T: Good no, it's AMAZING!!
R: I'm glad then.
And he was; happy and proud, letting the time pass by as he stared at the photos with a candid, tiny smile on his lips. Until his cat brought him out of his enchantment by jumping on his lap and demanding his daily petting.
***
And that was it till the end of the next month, when he somehow let Germany's cow eyes convince him to attend a social situation™.
Apparently France had challenged Ludwig to be more engaging with their peers and immediately later invited him to a game night with several other countries. So of course, Germany dragged Roderich in as support, just in case, even though Austria's interest in football was below 0.
"Where are we even going?"
"Spain's place."
"Oh."
Antonio opened the door in an apron and with a wide smile. He let them in greeting Germany with a smack on the shoulder and Roderich with a kiss on each cheek. Before they could finish saying their hellos the intercom came alive.
Spain ushered them into the apartment while he opened the door.
When Ludwig and Roderich walked into the living room the first thing that caught their attention was the abundance on the coffee table and the stools at its sides. It also explained why it smelt so amazing in there.
There was a charcuterie board and a cheese plate; a full bowl of cranberry rusks; small bowls of different types of olives and sauces; a plate of grilled prawns; a salad and three kinds of carefully assembled tidbits. Those must have been specially laborious.
"Is that... normal football night food in the south?" Germany asked Austria in a whisper. Of course 'whispering volume' wasn't among his list of talents.
"Nah. We usually just have chips and beer."
Austria almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn't noticed Ireland draped carelessly on the couch, because it was of the same color as the tracksuit she was wearing, and that obviously wasn't hers. She was playing on her phone but looked away to point a finger at him.
"He's been slaving in the kitchen all day, ever since he was told you were coming."
"And you haven't moved from that couch since yesterday, but you don't see me ratting you out." Spain complained, coming into the room with France and Italy on tow. He tossed his apron at her head, but she threw out her arm, catching it before it hit her.
"You went a bit overboard, my friend, didn't you?" France chuckled, surveying the table as well.
"Well I think it looks really, really nice, Tonino."
"Thanks Feli. See? Someone appreciates it. Now why don't y'all leave your coats in the guestroom and get settled in. I still got to finish in the kitchen."
Austria followed France, that apparently took it upon himself to give him and Ludwig the tour, but left when they started conversing about their stuff. Feliciano had joined Fiona on the couch, so Roderich found the kitchen. It hadn't been hard. Antonio lived in a modest apartment, albeit in a very centric and busy part of the city. It was too rowdy for Austria's taste but he remembered overhearing as Antonio said once that he had developed a distaste for silence ever since he started living alone.
He stopped in the doorway, to admire the spectacle for a moment. A handsome man in a form-fitting pair of jeans and t-shirt completely concentrated on cooking wasn't an everyday treat for his eyes. Spain was finishing assembling yet another plate of tidbits and there were croquettes fizzing in the fryer.
Austria approached him with care, bending over the plate as well. Antonio looked up from the fried quail eggs that he was arranging on top of the tidbits and smiled at him.
"This looks Amazing, Toni."
"Wanna try one?"
Roderich nodded, selecting a finished piece that was a bit on the side. He inspected the culinary construction up close: the quail egg sat over a 2cm thick piece of rice-and-blood sausage that covered a layer of poached green pepper, all over the base consisting of an oven-dried slice of wand bread.
An original combination and when Roderich bit into it he hummed with satisfaction, nodding at Spain. He finished eating it as Antonio fished out the croquettes and rolled them in kitchen paper to take out the excess oil.
"This is really good, but don't you think it's too much food, and work, for just six people?"
Antonio snorted. "You've never seen France and Éire get into an eating contest, did you? And something tells me Ludwig is not on a diet either."
Roderich cocked his head to the side, biting on his lower lip. "But you didn't do all of this for them, did you?"
Spain's hands twitched and a treacherous blush rose up to his cheeks. "Umm... well... Even though I had to double my exercise routine to make up for the calories, I really wanted to thank you for the cake you made, it was incredible."
Roderich was about to say that the cake itself had been a thank you, but then France walked into the kitchen.
"Did I just hear that Austria brought a cake? Oh good! I was afraid Spain had made the dessert as well."
"No, and what's wrong with my desserts?" Antonio spat out, all traces of gentle bashfulness gone as he menacingly waved a pair of tongs in France's direction, clicking them like a pissed off crab.
"Nothing" Francis laughed, raising his palms in a sign of peace "It's just that they usually consist of some form of fried dough or sugared egg yolk. It's not your forte, my dear, you must agree."
Antonio crossed his arms over his chest pouting. Austria could see the rest of their company peeking their heads into the kitchen as well. He shook his head disapprovingly at France and placed a hand on Spain's shoulder, speaking to him in a low voice.
"If you want to, you can come by any day. I can teach you how to bake a proper dessert, so next time you can put him in his place."
"I know how to bake desserts, I just don't usually-"
Suddenly, Ireland appeared out of nowhere behind him and elbowed him in the ribs.
"Ouch! ouff... oh, yeah, right. Emmm... I would love to." He giggled awkwardly, giving Austria one of his adorable smiles, complete with a faint blush and all.
She nodded approvingly and pretended to get a drink from the fridge, quickly drifting away after stealing a croquette.
Of course everything was delicious and even if Austria wasn't interested in the match, at least he could entertain himself with the food. He had an impression though, that Spain wasn't paying that much attention to the TV that day either.
***
T: Is your invitation still standing?
R: Of course.
T: What are we making?
T: So I can at least bring the wine
R: How about Wachau apricot dumplings? It involves frying dough as well so there's no way you can fail at that. When you pass your test we can move into something different.
T: Jajajaja! Okay! White wine then?
R: Perfect.
***
On Friday evening he opened the door to a grinning Spain, presenting him with a bottle of albariño wrapped in a tiny red bow. Austria accepted it and invited him inside.
"Do you want to get started right away or have a glass first?"
"Ah, about that-" Spain seemed to hesitate, hanging his coat on the rack to give himself a moment. He turned to face Roderich again then, fiddling with his feet. "You know the food... I was actually tryin’ to tell you something."
"I know." Roderich tilted his head, quirking up the corner of his lip. He stepped closer and reached for Spain's wool hat, taking it off and running his fingers through Toni's messy hair. "I would have loved to say it's because I still know you very well, but the truth is that you were being really obvious even without all the culinary presents." He placed the hat on the entryway table, but brought his right hand down to rest on Spain's chest.
“Yeah, but you know what they say - the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
"If that's true-" Austria asked, eyes full of warmth and a bit of a teasing mirth “Then what convinced you to tell me directly now?"
Antonio laughed softly, bringing up his hand to cover Roderich's own with it.
"Well, you invited me here and… it's not apricot season at all."
