“All I did was watch how you behaved and what you liked. Know your enemy and shit like that.” I said, finishing off his old coffee. 

“We are enemies?” Caio said, his eyebrow raised. 

“No, but when I first started paying attention to you, you were there to protect Alessio, and I didn’t know if you were trustworthy.”

“Recon work turned into infatuation with Caio, huh?” Alessio said, openly right there in front of Caio. 

“Shut up.” I snapped. 

“Relax Matteo.” Caio said. 

Alessio smiled to himself, and I wanted to kick him. But Caio quickly ruined that plan.

“Don’t even try anything, either of you. My legs are also under this damn table.” Caio said. 

“I would never.” Alessio said. 

“You would never, and Caio’s a fucking saint. Since we are talking about things that are unlikely to happen.” I said, snorting. 

“Nikki thinks Caio is a demon, not a saint.” Alessio said, looking at Caio.

“Why? What did I miss? Did Caio do something?” I asked, confused. I looked at Caio and he was sipping his coffee without saying a word. “Does someone want to fill me in? Is Nikki alright? Caio, what did you do?”

“Caio had some unfriendly words with Nikki early this morning after I took you into the medical building. He shamed Nikki about not being smarter and letting you drink that drink. Nikki is sorry about what happened and feels bad. Caio didn’t help.”

“Caio, really? Why would you do that?” I said, crossing my arms. 

“Someone had to lay it out for him. He was the older of you two and should know better than to accept strange drinks, hell you should know better.” Caio said. 

“Nikki shouldn’t feel bad. It’s my own fault. Please tell him I’m sorry for ruining his night. And Caio is sorry for his—--”

“I’m not sorry, not at all.” Caio said flatly. 

“Caio, it’s not his fault. You shouldn’t have gone after him that way.” I said, pulling my hand through my hair. 

“Alessio won’t tell you about your shitty night, but I will. You spent the entire night in and out of it, puking and complaining you were so tired. At one point when Alessio finally got to sleep in the medical building, you woke back up and began violently gagging, and saying you felt terrible. And I know this, because I was in and out of the medical building all night long, keeping an eye on you.”

“It wasn’t Nikki’s fault, it was mine. And I am more than happy to take responsibility for my actions. If you want to tell anyone off, Caio. Then tell me off. I am the one to blame.”

“It’s done, and it’s over with, for the moment—---” His phone went off, and he groaned. “That’s an alert for the medical building. I have to go. We will talk about this another time.”

Alessio took off, and that left Caio and I sitting there. Awkwardly. Caio finished off his cup of coffee and took his cup and my cup to the sink. He turned the water on and started doing the dishes. He paused, set down the cup and started walking towards me. I looked down at the table, not sure if it was safe to meet eyes with him right now. 

“Look at me Matteo.”

Looking up, Caio spoke. 

“Never again. You’re not accepting another drink at the club or any public place where you don’t see it come out of the bottle or you didn’t make it yourself. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Last night will never happen again.”

Caio went back to washing the dishes, and I openly watched him. Not sure what to say or do. He was clearly upset about last night. 

“Caio, I don’t really understand why you’re upset, but I’m sorry if my behaviour caused this. I shouldn’t have touched you or forced you to hold my hand. Also, as for claiming your mine, I crossed a line and I am very sorry about that. You are not mine and I understand that. Trust me.” 

“You should still be resting.”

“I feel fine, and I think I want something to eat. Nothing heavy though.” I muttered. 

“I’ll make something, then you should sleep again.”

“I don’t want to sleep anymore.” 

“You need to rest.”

“I don’t want to.”

“What you want and what you need are two different things.”

Annoyed, I stood up and looked through the fridge for something quick to eat. I pulled out some pasta salad. He bought it at the store the night before. He showed interest in it before tossing it in. It looked like the one from home, but I knew it wouldn’t be. I didn’t have high hopes for it. 

Caio took the container from my hands, and split it into two bowls, and placed a fork in each of our bowls. Caio went to the table with his bowl and I stayed at the counter. I watched him take a bite, and his face said everything I wanted to know, but he still continued to eat it. Typical Caio. 

Taking a bite, I chewed it and frowned. It tasted ugly. I didn’t know how he was still eating it. Pushing the bowl away, I pulled down his large pot and filled it with water, setting it on the burner, and turning it on. 

“What are you doing?”

“Making real Italian pasta salad. That tastes ugly.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Please, I saw the face you made. You hate it. But you won’t waste it. That face, I’ve seen you make that at a few of my mother’s dishes when you were ‘babysitting’ Alessio.”

“Your mother is a terrible cook.”

“Watch it. Don’t let her hear you say that. You will never have a shot with her, Caio.” I said politely. 

“I will never have a shot with your mother, Matteo. Your mother doesn’t want or need another person with any kind of addiction, past or present.”

I knew because of Alessio what his addiction had been, and his issues, but I wanted to hear it from his own mouth if he was going to share it. 

“So what’s your addiction, then?” I muttered, taking another bite of the shitty pasta. 

“Truthfully, alcohol.”

“I’ve never seen you drink.”

He pushed his food away, and I was worried I upset him. Getting ready to apologize, he cleared his throat. I looked at him again and he spoke. 

“I stopped drinking when you were little. Really little. Your grandfather was very helpful in kicking the alcohol habit that I had.”

“Did he hurt you?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer. 

“No. Not at all. He just showed me something and told me if I wanted it, there was no way alcohol would help me get it.”

“Hmm.”

I found his pasta again, salted the water and tossed it in. I pulled out a few different vegetables and Caio was right behind me when I stepped out of the fridge, closing the door. 

“I wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me, damn.” I groaned. 

“Sorry. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“If you want, you can cut the vegetables into small pieces. They don’t have to be uniform or anything.” 

“Alright. But, I want to know something too, since you asked me about my addiction. What do you know about me, Matteo?”

“If I tell you, are you going to call me a little creep again?”

“Maybe that depends.”

“More than should, probably. I know your coffee order, when coffee isn’t available you get tea with a single sugar. You turn down alcoholic drinks when offered, saying it’s pointless. I know why now. You make faces when you don’t like something but still eat it. You have a very special groan you make when you’re frustrated. You—---”

“God, did you not play or do normal kid things?” He laughed, though it seemed forced. 

“Sometimes I did. But only with Alessio, and where he was, you were.”

I stirred the pasta and went to look for his colander to drain it. He pointed it out, and when he went back to cut the vegetables, I tried to climb on the counter. He dropped the knife and yanked me off the countertop. 

“Just what the hell are you doing?”

“Getting your colander.”

“Ask if you can’t get it. Don’t climb on my damn counter top like a cat!”

“Eh, I would have been fine.”

Caio reached up after he set me down and got the colander. There was a very small space between us and my cheeks flushed. I felt it. He gave me the colander, and I moved away from him. Holding my breath. Pouring the noodles into the colander in the sink, I enjoyed the steam on my face. Rinsing the noodles off with cold water, until they cooled down. I left them to drip dry while I made the sauce for it all. 

Caio was dumping the chopped vegetables into an enormous bowl. I never even saw him grab or move to grab it. He passed me the bowl when he was done and got rid of the evidence of the former pasta. 

I dumped the pasta in the bowl, covered it in the sauce, and mixed it all together. Caio washed our bowls before he set them back on the countertop and I filled them with the pasta I made. I hoped it would be ok. 

He didn’t even wait till he got to the table. He tasted it on the way and spoke. 

“Least your cooking degree wasn’t a waste. You can definitely cook. Far better than the pre-made stuff and your mother’s homemade.”

I felt like preening at his compliment, but I didn’t. I just took my bowl and sat at the table beside him. Happy with the level of food I prepared. 

“I’m glad you like it.”