Francis prided himself of these sorts of things. He even went so far as to call himself the 'Master of Love.' How many times had he caught a passing, admiring look from the corner of his eye? How many men had he charmed until they agreed to go out for a drink? How many women had his number in their phones?

And yet, this had blindsided him.

Here he was, kissing Lovino. Kissing Lovino back.

Huh.

Lovino certainly hadn't picked up on Francis' radar. He had tried a couple of times, sure; the passing wink, a quick touch to the elbow, whispering so the Italian would have to lean closer. But Lovino had never reciprocated, so Francis had let the Italian be.

Oh, it seems as though Francis had pushed Lovino against the wall. And was still kissing him. If they didn't hurry, they would be late for their next class.

Now that Francis thought about it, there may have been hints. Lovino definitely cursed at him more than he normally did with others, but Francis figured that was because he let Lovino copy his French homework.

Francis mentally smacked himself. How had he missed that?

"Oi," Lovino had said from over him. "Did you do the paragraphs from last night? They were fucking hard."

Francis had given him a gracious smile, leaning forward on his desk. "They were not that hard. Not as hard as some things could be." Lovino had blushed—not out of anger, Francis realized belatedly.

Every day, Lovino asked to copy Francis' homework. There were a lot of paragraphs to translate; there was no possible way for Lovino to copy them all in the short break before French started. Because he had already done them.

Lovino broke off from the kiss, panting. Francis stayed where he was, looking at Lovino's face, eyebrows furrowed. The Italian mumbled something in his own tongue, looking around the hallway.

"Fuck," Lovino said, looking over Francis' shoulder.

Francis craned his neck, raising an eyebrow at the boy standing there. "Would you like to join in, Arthur?"

Arthur hugged his books closer to his chest, moving away, muttering to himself. Francis turned his attention back to Lovino.

"I have to get back to class," Lovino said breathily, pushing by Francis and continuing down the hallway.

"Ah." Francis frowned. The Master of Love does not get tongue tied. "I look forward to seeing you in French," he called, watching the brunet's head duck around the corner.

Francis leaned against the wall, adjusting his uniform's tie. That was interesting. Of all the people… Francis was almost impressed. It's not very often someone else initiates a make out. Francis ran his tongue over his lips. He would have to return the favor.

Unfortunately, that endeavor ended with a nervous Lovino ducking his head and hitting Francis in the jaw.