A/N: Here you go folks! How to make proper meatballs. The next day ended roughly the same as the last, except this time Florence stumbled into the villa with a large bruise annoyingly placed across his middle from an attack. Nothing the Florentine was unused to, all be it it was almost unnatural for him not to be attacked at least once a few weeks. But really, why him? Of course this was a ambiguous question, completely unhelpful, he knew exactly why.
“M'home,” He mumbled, loudly enough for his voice to carry up the stairs and reach the children who played there. Like dogs called with a whistle two children came charging down the stairs, jumping at him. The little girl latched onto his right leg, while the boy onto his left. Lorenzo smiled down at them, “Ciao Angelica, Feliciano.” They grinned up at him in reply. Taking a deep breath he lifted a foot, taking a child up with him. Detaching the giggling monkey from his leg he held it up to his face and grinned, “I see you've gotten into the pens, Uccellino,” he poked the boys forehead where a messily drawn flower displayed his sister's ability to draw. Setting the child back on the ground (which the boy immediately reattached himself to the Florentine's leg) he trudged up the stairs, reminding himself how painful it was to use stomach muscles when you got kicked in the ribs. Ignoring said pain he made it up the stairs and dragged the laughing children into Feliciano's room. Sitting down on the bed he let them clamber onto his lap and snuggle against him. He looked down at the small brown-eyed girl who presently was nuzzling her face into his shoulder. “Ve, you were the little monster who drew all over the young master, no?”
“Vi~” Angelica replied, clinging to his neck in an attempted hug while her older brother attempted to worm his way in between them to get some more attention.
Lorenzo grinned, “va bene, I suppose Uccellino has informed you about what we will be reading tonight?”
“Si, he could recite it by heart if I didn't tell him to stop,” she giggled, watching the Venician pout.
“Papa, Angelica has been mean... she told me to be quiet.” his bottom lip quivered, his eyes began to water, his shoulders tensed; the tell-tail signs that a child is about to cry. Lorenzo sighed, wrapping his arms around the two and pulling them into a hug.
“Mi dispiace, Uccellino.”
As the last remaining hours of the day passed many things happened, out of some odd turn of events they also convinced Lorenzo to let himself be drawn on mercilessly at the hands of the small children, who kindly just kept the ink to his left arm. He smiled to himself, wondering how the bank employees would react to him coming in with a large neon pink tattoo of a flower and a dog patterned across his hand. He rested his head on one of his hands, a light smile playing at his lips as he looked down at the now yawning chibis, “Ve.... what about I read, and then you two go to bed, va bene?”
He was answered by nods and a yawn from the girl. Picking the two up he carried them up to Veneziano's room, plopping them down on the bed he grabbed the book.
“Meatballs” He read allowed, sitting down next to them as they both crawled under the covers. Feliciano used to tell him he was exploring a cave when he did that, Lorenzo smiled, his soft dark brown eyes drifting back to the book;
“This recipe is for six people, and goes well with red sauce.
One pound of ground beef and pork,
One egg,
A half a cup of bread crumbs,” Lorenzo paused, covering a yawn of his own.
“A quarter cup of parmesan cheese,
A handful of roughly sliced rough leaf parsley,
Three to five coursely chopped garlic cloves,
And few pinches of salt and pepper or to taste.”
At this point he was interrupted by the growl of a stomach. He smirked, glancing over at the girl who fidgeted slightly. “Uno momento Signore, e Signora,” he stood, drifting lightly down to the kitchen he grabbed an orange before drifting back up and beginning to peel it, seemingly not noticing the children who stared at the orange hungrily.
“In a medium or large bowl, combine the meat, bread crumbs, and the egg, you can use a spoon to mix them together or your hands. Combine the rest of the ingredients and mix until properly combined.”
He finished peeling the orange, holding it out to them, the Sicilian reached out to grab it, but Florence had a firm grip on it. “Ball the meat into tangerine-sized balls,” he swivled the orange around for them to examine, before splitting it in two, Angelica and Veneziano readily grabbed the slices of orange and ate while he continued to read;
“then fry in pan with a bit of olive oil till browned, this process should take about five minutes
then boil in pasta sauce for roughly twenty minutes, but as with the sauce, when cooking as long as they are thuroughly cooked you may keep them stewed for as long as needed. Make sure you have prepared the sauce before you make the meatballs.” He smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked over at the children who stared at him expectantly.
Angelica was the first to speak, “vi... is that it?” she asked, cocking her head to one side. She licked the orange remnants off of her fingers before glancing up at him.
Lorenzo blinked, “Ve, Italian food Is meant to be simple, but still be the best family food you will ever find. I held this family together with food, you know.”
Veneziano nodded, his curl bouncing with his head in agreement; “Si! Lorenzo is a really good cook! He can-”
The boy was cut short when an all-too-familiar “Ohonhonhonhonhon~” interrupted them.
Out of reflex Lorenzo drew the dagger he wore constantly and threw it, it sank hilt-deep into the wall near the door- A satisfying eep and a “MON DIEU!” replying it.
The Florentine growled from where he sat. His brow dropping into an obvious frown as he waited for the Frenchman to show himself. Slowly a surprised looking Francis peeked out from behind the door frame, possibly wondering if another dagger would be thrown. “Mon dieu, you are ze craziest Italien I 'ave ever laid eyze on.” He sighed, shaking his head, blond curls bouncing slightly “besides, I 'eard from a little bird that you were teaching 'im out to cook garbage?”
“It's not garbage.” Florence replied, his glare deepening.
“Ohonhonhonhon~ zat is what ze stupid and ze foolish think,” a cheshire grin curled onto his lips, “I, will teach you
real cooking.”
A/N: Over my time here in France I might have picked up a few things... *innocent look*
F: Ohonhonhonhon~ Weaver does not own ze 'etalia, non?
L: Go away. How the hell did you even get into mi villa?!
F: Ohonhonhonhon~ A little Nerd let me in~
L: ....I'm going to kill Vinci... *growls*