Antonio Fernandez Carriedo yawned and stretched out his limbs as he woke from yet another siesta. He had been avoiding the cruel reality that he had to get a job after moving back to the States. Ever since he had gotten out of high school, he had gone to live with his family in Spain to help them get back on their feet, because at the time they had been in the dirt. After one of them (as unlikely as it was) won the lottery and he had no real reason for staying there. There was no place like España, and he would have lived there forever if he could, but he knew where his real home was and had eventually decided to come back.

"Esto es el tiempo para ir." The Spaniard sighed to himself, pulling his covers away from his body. He had worked at a little cafe for a while, but they were so run down that everything was instant and the owner had to lay him off for lack of funds.

He lazily walked over to the kitchen table and picked up the newspaper he had been reading the night before. He had given up after a while and had started reading the funny little comics. "Let's see if we can find anything in here, shall we?" He said to himself as he flipped through the papers. He didn't want to have to go look at too many places. He wanted to go back home and take another siesta. It was depressing being away from family and the wonders of his native land.

Antonio didn't suppose professional bull fighting was on the job list in an American city.

Suddenly, his emerald green eyes caught onto a rather cute looking ad, with two tomatoes with the most darling facial expressions one would expect on a child's television show.

Help Wanted!
For chefs that can make delicious Italian food!
(Also looking for bus boys)
Il Pomodoro Italiano

He set the newspaper down and smiled. "¡Prepárese! I'm going to get this, no problem!" He said cheerfully, having spent several years working on his uncle's tomato farm and cooking dinner almost every night. He could definitely make Italian food. It wouldn't be hard at all!

Antonio tore out the ad and stuck it in his pocket so he remembered the address and left his dingy apartment, bag in hand. He hopped on his new ride, a bicycle from Wal-Mart, and happily rode down the street, humming happily to himself.

"...CHIGIIIIII!!!!"

The high pitched squeal echoed throughout (fortunately)empty restaurant, making the French cook and the English waiter cease their bickering abruptly and cringe. The polish boy sitting in a booth was unaffected, music from his iPod playing loudly.

"...What's wrong now?" Arthur asked, rubbing his ears as his bushy brows twitched. The Frenchman simply sighed and shrugged. They stood their awkwardly for a moment, wondering who would be the unfortunate soul to go see what was wrong with their employer now.

They then looked over at the sound of 'Holla Back Girl' being played, seeing Feliks reading Vouge. And, in an amazing and sudden alliance that would shock the world, both Arthur and Francis worked together to haul the cross dressing blonde out of the booth with much complaint, Arthur snatching the iPod away and Francis stealing the magazine, and they then shoved him through the office door.

"HEY! That was, like, totally mean! Like, what the hell, guys?"

Luckily for him, Romano wasn't paying attention to Feliks at the moment. Instead, the Italian was glaring at his computer screen. Felik's sighed and pouted, crossing his arms.

"Like, what's wrong now?"

"What's wrong is that one of our cooks quit! THAT BASTARD! Now we're THREE chefs down! ARGH!"

"But, like, wasn't that totally your fault since you, like, always told him he was doing his cooking all totally wrong and stuff?"

"...SHUT UP! This is a good restaurant! I can't let them cook bad food!"

"You're standards are, like, totally too high."

Romano scowled at the Pole, who shrugged, blowing out a pink sphere of bubble gum before popping it and chewing once again. Romano was sorely tempted to kick the boy in the face, but Feliks was surprisingly good at bringing in customers and managed to be the only one besides himself who could actually work the register.

"There aren't any good chefs anymore! What happened to food being art, being something to be respected!? Now everyone's treating it like a stupid chore! We NEED food, and people treat it like it's nothing! ARGH! Has the world turned British or something!?" Romano ignored the laughter of Francis and Arthur's cursing outside as he continued to rant.

"Worthwhile cooks are getting hard to come by- Hell, at this point, FRANCIS is the only one worth paying, and I HATE him! Ave Maria, what I wouldn't give for someone who could actually COOK!"

Feliks rolled his eyes and gave an irate sigh. "Like, look- We totally pulled through before, right? I mean, I totally bet we'll get a cook right before you know it! Like, right through the door before the day ends!"

Romano looked at Feliks skeptically and sighed, responding with a sulky "Okay". He supposed that was why Feliciano was friends with Feliks- Both were so damn optimistic. Romano, on the other hand, would constantly see everything in the negative.

"Il Pomodoro Italiano." Antonio read the sign, the same tomato logo behind the fancy Italian writing. The place seemed like a pretty good restaurant, but he wasn't worried at all. He was a fantastic cook! In fact, it had almost pained him to make everything instant at the last cafe he worked at. It took all the fun out of it. A job wasn't worth it if you couldn't enjoy it. Plus his boss had been such a wet blanket. If he teased him at all, all the old man would do was scowl and tell him to get back to work. Such a boring guy.

"...CHIGIIIIII!!!!"

Antonio gave a slight start to the strange noise coming from inside the restaurant, but then chuckled. It sounded like someone in there had some spirit! Whether it was negative or positive, at least it wouldn't be boring. The Spaniard hooked up his bicycle to a nearby post and opened the door just as the bickering was starting to end.

A man with medium blond hair was laughing at a shorter blond with ridiculously large eyebrows. "¡Hola!" He called to catch their attention. His eyes lit up when he smiled, making up for the slight mess of curly brunette hair that sat atop his head. "I hear you are hiring~, ¿Sí? Tomatoes are one of my pasiones! Of course, if you want to know of my others we will have to get to know one another better first, as I'm sure you understand." He winked playfully at the two, running his fingers through his hair.

Francis brightened immediately, although it was most likely the fact that he had a new potential molestee. "Why, of course! Our boss is busy at the moment but I'm sure I'd like to get to know YOU better..." He said, smoothly sliding next to him and not to subtly groped the Spaniard's ass. However, after a second, his eyes widened. "...Wait a minute... This ass is familiar... Antonio!?"

"You can only tell people from their asses? French bloody bastard." And then Arthur turned around, bushy black eyebrows in full view for the world to see- And those eyebrows would bring back horrible memories of high school for Antonio, the days of the Englishman bullying the Spaniard mercilessly. "Antonio! It is you! Mon cher!" And so Francis hugged Antonio excitedly, still groping his ass.

"Huh, so it is you. I thought you had gone back to Spain or some such." Feliks, at that time, exited the office and blinked at the new arrival. "Uhm, aren't we, like, closed?"

"He's an here for the chef position, apparently. Feliks, this is Antonio, the frog and I went to high school with him. Antonio, this is Feliks." Arthur said, straight to business, as the British tended to do. Feliks grinned. "Awesome! Heeey! Boss, I told you! We got a chef!"

"They're not a chef till I say so, dammit!"

"But you'll definitely hire this one, oui!"

"Shut up, you French bastard! You're not in charge here, dammit!" And so Romano stormed out of the office, looking to kill(even though he really wouldn't)- Until his eyes landed on Antonio.

...Dopey grin- Check.

Oblivious to surroundings- Check.

...Sweet mother of Mary, it was Antonio. "...What are you doing here, dammit!? You're supposed to be in Spain or whatever!" And definitely not here, because he left and wasn't supposed to come back. That stupid jerk had left him to go help his family and didn't even hesitate and it pissed the Italian off every time he remembered.

The moment that probably manicured French hand laid on his ass, Antonio had a spark of recognition. "¡Frances en mis pantalones! I can't believe it!" He reached around the other man's hug to grab hold of his ass as well. "As terrible as it is, there was little to no ass grabbing for me in España! Frankly, I missed it! However, I didn't really miss those eyebr-- Arthur." Antonio twitched slightly, his smile faltering from the terrible memories of getting locked in lockers and brutal displays of hate during P.E. but detached himself from Frances' ass to shake Feliks's hand.

"Gusto en conocerlo." He said, smiling widely for the Polish man, who had a very strange but somewhat attractive way of style.

The voice that rang (rather rudely) from the office sounded fairly familiar. He cocked his head to the side, trying to get a better view of the man that was coming out of the office.

His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw who it was. That silly, cute curl. That adorable face. He would recognize him from anywhere. "Lovi~! ¡Qué tomate tan mono! I should have known you would own a place like this one day. I was in Spain, yes, but I came back!" His smile couldn't have gotten any wider. He remembered Romano's cheeks being a little chubbier, but he was still his usual adorable self. "Destiny brought us all here together! You could act a little happier to see me, though. It's been a while! Aren't you going to give me a kiss?" Antonio teased the little Italian, bringing his finger up to his cheek. "This will be such a wonderful job~!" He laughed, considering himself hired. "I'm sure you'll just love my food Lovi. As soon as you taste it, you'll be begging for more! Where's the kitchen?"