A/N: Lovino's kind of a dick in this, but it's sort of supposed to be the beginning of them getting along.

"Unspoken Apology"

The bed Lovino found himself in was warm, soft, and exuded some sort of soft, floral scent. It was also unfamiliar.

He sat up slowly and looked around, wondering where he was. He'd been in more than a few bedrooms in his time, but never this one. He slid slowly from the sheets, realizing his was only in his boxers and his clothes from the night before were scattered next to the bed. There wasn't anything unusual about that, except that he couldn't remember undressing. Blushing furiously, he pulled everything back on before venturing out of the room.

He'd never been in this house before, but he heart sank as he began to recognize a few of the items. There was a painting on one wall that he remembered giving to France as a gift when Paris and Rome had become sister cities. A soft blanket that the same blond sometimes brought to meetings when he was feeling under the weather was draped over the couch. Even the smells drifting from the kitchen were distinctly French.

His heart sinking, Lovino followed his nose to see the blond standing at the stove, his back to the doorway. Cool, wintery light drifted through the window, catching on the steam rising from whatever the Frenchman was doing.

"Everyone knows you want an Italian in your bed, but the lengths you resorted to surprise even me," Lovino finally spoke, his voice scornful. Francis jumped and spun to face him, hurt crossing his expression for a moment.

"I think you have the wrong idea, mon ami," Francis replied evenly a smile quickly replacing the momentarily weak expression, "You got drunk after your brother left, and someone had to take care of you. Since you hadn't made reservations, I took it upon myself to bring you back here."

"To your bed?" Lovino replied scathingly, raising a brow, "Even going so far as to undress me…I'm not sure how you saw that as being helpful."

Francis frowned again, his expression confused this time. "You are mistaken, Romano. I only took off your shoes. If anything else was taken off, you must have done it yourself in your sleep," he replied, but now he was beginning to look a little irked by Lovino's continued hostility, "I put you in my bed because I had already offered the guest room to Alfred and mon petit Mathieu. I spent the night on the couch."

He turned away again, obviously thinking that would be the end of things. It was, for a while—Lovino was too surprised by his last revelation to comment for a moment.

"Why didn't you leave me on the couch?" he asked finally, crossing the room to peer into the blond's face, "I'm…I'm shorter than you, anyway." As much as he hated bringing his height into things, he figured it was a point that had to make sense, right?

Francis looked affronted by the very thought.

"What kind of host would I be then?" he asked.

Again, Lovino paused. Obviously, he'd misjudged the Frenchman. Years of avoiding him had obviously caused him to make more of his perversion than there really was. He dropped his gaze, playing with a hem on his sleeve as he tried to formulate an apology. Before he could get the words out, Francis noticed, and his irritation softened. He reached out and caught Lovino's hand, stopping him from doing any more damage to his shirt.

"I understand," he assured him, "You were upset last night. If you went to bed angry, you might have woken up angry too."

Lovino hesitated, but then simply nodded. There was more to it, of course, but he didn't need to unload his problems on Francis after being so rude to him.

"Thank you," he said instead, "I…guess I should go…"

Francis waved the words away, a smile crossing his lips. "No, you don't have to," he assured him, "Besides, I've cooked too much for one person. It's never any good reheated. Why don't you stay and eat with me?"

Lovino hesitated a moment longer, searching his face for sincerity. He seemed to mean it though, so Lovino relaxed and nodded. He had a feeling it was time to smooth things out between them anyway.

"Si, okay. Should I set the table?"