AN: Another Young Faust/Eliza fare because these are fun. Suggestions for the next one would be utilized. This is based pretty closely on a story of a contest my mom and dad had back in college. All the quirks are mine except for the last one, which is my parents. That's about all I have to say on this one.

AN #2: This was written at one in the morning until about three in the morning. If certain parts don't make sense, that's why.

It was blatantly obvious, to the casual observer, that the couple sitting at booth 12 were not dating; at least, not anymore. They kept their hands to themselves and glared at one another with such intense hatred that it was a wonder they could bear to sit in he same restaurant.

"You're going to throw up tonight, Eliza," Johann told her with a sweet sneer, "And while I'm holding your hair back, I'm going to laugh and laugh…"

She scoffed back at him. "And while you're braying like a moron, your mouth will taste like vomit because you'll have just finished, proving once again that I'm stronger than you. Like that time when we were kids…"

He sighed irritably. "You're still bringing that up and still leaving out the part that I was six and you were nine…"

She cut him off. "But leaving in the part about how I was a weak, sick little girl and you were supposed to be a strong, healthy little boy. Who, by the way, avoided and still avoids physical labor at every chance…"

He smiled coldly.

"Oh, a masculinity joke –very cute, Eliza. Did you stay up all night on that?"

"No, but I have been barely eating for a week in preparation."

"Yes, I noticed." She stopped cold. "Those love handles have disappeared, well, almost." She glared daggers through him. He caught his mistake all too late and smiled apologetically at her as he watched her furiously rip her paper napkin to pieces. "'M sorry…"

"Don't ever say that again," she ordered. He smartly dropped the subject. As if on cue, the food –two large helpings of spaghetti, was placed in front of them. Ignoring all the manners they had been taught, they dug in.

Mario's was the only decent Italian restaurant within a ten mile radius of the campus. So when they announced an all you can eat spaghetti deal, the chance for a contest was too good to pass up.

Besides, they figured, what good was a relationship without a little healthy competition? Plus, they got to take out any and all aggression they felt toward the other.

Like that she counted the number of brush strokes for anything.

He always needed an even number or a sum of 5 on the volume control.

She apparently needed to rip labels off whenever she felt the bottle wasn't being used.

He could never just sneeze once.

She could sing fine but hum off key.

He always needed to have things scheduled at least a few days in advance.

… They decided about there to stop thinking of all the things they hated about one another before they began to hate one another.

The first plate finished, they paused a bit as they waited for the next.

"Feeling full?" he asked, wiping a stray bit of marinara out of the corner of his mouth.

"I haven't eaten in a week, remember? One plate isn't going to fill me up. And I have never had love handles in my life."

He nodded eagerly. "I was just about to say the same thing!"

"I'm sure you were," she said flatly, bitterly.

"And I was just about to compliment your hair," he said hurriedly, "Are you using a new shampoo?"

She raised an eyebrow and sat for a long while, making him fidget nervously.

"Yes, yes I have, thank you," she told him quickly.

He sighed in relief that he had passed her test. Of course he could tell when she had something new. With her amount of hair you could probably smell it a mile away –he'd nearly choked on the smell of citric acid in the car on the way to the restaurant. That was another… he mentally slapped himself. That was enough of that.

The second plate was set down.

"Just keep them coming," Eliza told the waitress as she dug into the new plate. Without much conversation plate two was devoured, and then plate three followed the same.

Plate four, however…

"What the hell is this?" Johann asked, staring down at a plate that was significantly smaller than the others had been.

"Giving into a little plate, now?" Eliza asked smugly as she dug in.

Not to be bested, he followed her. Within a matter of two minutes, they had finished.

Five minutes later, they were still waiting for their waitress.

"She doesn't see you," Johann told her, slinking down a bit as Eliza kept her arm straight up in the air for attention.

"She sees me," she told him flatly, "But they've figured out what we're doing and they're waiting for us to just give up." She put her arm down as the plates came –now even smaller.

"Look, by the time you come back, we'll have finished these plates. So just keep coming," Eliza told the waitress, picking up her fork and twirling her noodles.

Johann, always the shyer of the two, simply let her have her say on something he also felt. It was just easier that way.

The plates came and went for a while, the two staying even. They'd both practically starved for a week for this, and above that their pride was at stake for loosing.

And all the while the plates became smaller and smaller and more and more delayed.

"Look," Johann finally snapped (as politely as he could, of course), "Soon enough you're going to bring me thimble with a noodle in it. Just keep the plates coming."

And they ate as they had before.

Up until plate twelve, which was a saucer.

"This is bull shit," Eliza finally stated, looking down at her plate.

Johann raised his finger for the check and put the money down –with a nice tip for putting up with them, of course.

"Wanna go get ice cream?"

"I thought you would never ask."

The two walked out of the restaurant hand in hand –happily ignoring every quirk that drove them mad and residing to that they were more in love with one another than before.

Mario's never held another all you can eat for the rest of its life.

So, in that way, it was a good ending all around.