Hello~ Skyebyrd again! Well, I've gotten on a Spamano kick lately, so here goes (please don't kill me D: this is only my second fanfic so I'm still kinda suckish)

On a completely unrelated topic, I was just watching Mulan and in the beginning she says 'ai-yah!' aaahhh I laughed so much! (Why did I put that here…?)

Warnings: Lovino Vargas' mouth. Yeah, he uses it more ways than one~

Yep, you guessed it! He curses AND eats pasta

Disclaimer: HETALIA IS NOT MINE! If it was, the yaoi would not be merely hinted at

[EDIT] it has been brought to my attention that the Spanish words I used were wrong! So sorry. Thank you Dat mexican person for bringing this to my attention! Hopefully the translations are all correct now! You're right, online translators aren't always the best and I thank you for your help!

[EDIT 2] It seems I had some tense confusion in my writing, so hopefully it is all fixed now! Thank you BlackWindButterfly!

[EDIT 3] MY STORY GOT ADDED TO A COMMUNITY! Ahhh it's called Hetalia AU, go check it out~ there are some awesome stories on there

Betaed by: LovelyToMeetYou

Enjoy!

"Ve~ fratello, you'll never guess what I made for lunch today!" Came Feliciano Vargas' overly-exuberant voice from the seat behind him. The bus rocked to-and-fro as the heavy wind of a rain storm blew around it.

"Pasta?" Voiced Lovino Vargas' annoyance from underneath a hood.

"Ve~ fratello's always been such a good guesser, how did you know?" Feliciano sang out in his usual, air-headed way as he leaned over the high-backed seat to hug his brother from behind.

"Damn it, Feli! I told you not to do that on the bus! I try to sleep on the bus!" And with those words of hate (although Lovino would viciously murder anyone else who spoke that way to his little brother), Lovino leaned back up against the window, pulling his fallen hood back up onto his face.

"Aw, okay, fratello. I'll wake you up when we get to school, okay?"

Lovino drifted back into unconsciousness…

Lovino hated this. Hearing him every day. That damn cheerful voice of his, always the same, never anything sad or untrusting. Every morning, "Good morning, Tigers, I am Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and this is your Tiger Morning News."

Damn announcements.

Of course, Lovino couldn't help but listen to that sex-annoying voice of his. He was the producer, after all. Every day, he had to go to the studio, and have to fix the damn computer. Every day, he had to do a mike check. Every day, he had to set up the cameras. Every day, he had to see his damn happy smile. It was bad enough that Lovino was too fucking tired to even see straight, but he had to run this, too.

"Good morning, Lovi~ I hope I did good today! Did I do good? I think I did good!" He would say every morning after they finished airing. And he would hug Lovino.

Lovino hated hugs. Especially from annoying Spanish bastards like him. But yet, somehow, every day, Antonio would continue to grapple with Lovino about how long Antonio's embraces were allowed to last. Apparently, they never lasted more than 2.468 seconds, according to Ludwig Beilshmidt's stopwatch.

"Get the fuck off me, Spanish bastard!" were usually the words that flew out of Lovino's untamed mouth every time Antonio would scoop him into his arms.

"Aw, but Lovi~I have to be on you to hug you, silly!" he would reply, oblivious as always.

"And why do you want to hug me, bastard? I thought I made it pretty fucking clear that I hate getting hugs!" Lovino screamed, crossing his arms over his chest. He saw Antonio's friends Gilbert and Francis in the hallway, waiting for Antonio to 'hurry up, mon cher!'

"Well, it's 'cause you're so cute, Lovi~!" Antonio's answer would always be, or something along those lines. Usually those words, though. Then Antonio would disappear in a whirl-wind of smiles and laughter, and then the Frenchie and potato bastard were gone as well.

"Ve~fratello, Antonio's so cute, isn't he? I love Antonio nii-san, he's so fun!" Feliciano would gush. Then Lovino's face would burn a bright red, and would say "Che palle! Of course not, Feli, why would you even think about saying something like that? Fuckin' dumbass."

At these words, Feliciano never failed to begin crying, and Lovino had to soothe the poor boy in the only way he could think of: by giving his brother his lunch of pasta.

This happened to Lovino Vargas almost every day, without fail. Every day, the same perfunctory nonsense, during homeroom. Lovino was, quite simply, sick and tired of it. He hated this, this…purgatory.

Honestly, the only thing that seemed different every day was what the damn teachers taught. A new subject being taught every day, a new lesson. Damn, why did they only have four classes a day per semester? Having to be taught a full subject within 4 months was awful. Pure hell.

Why do I put up with this shit, dammit? Do you hate me, God? Is that what's happening? Lovino would usually grumble to himself in his head on his way to his first bell, but, according to his luck in years past, God would hate him.

Because, honestly. Who would bother with stupid, untalented, irritable, rude, cursing Lovino? The only people here who could stand him would be Feliciano, and Antonio. Feli was easy enough to understand why he put up with Lovino, but Antonio…Lovino shook his head. He could not afford to let his concentration slip right now.

Lovino slid into his seat for Biology. Dammit, he had been held back because he couldn't focus all last year! N-not because he didn't understand it, there was just a stupid Spanish bastard sitting next to him all year! And said stupid-Spanish-bastard never shut up, or left him alone, and he was really ho-flashy! Yeah, that's it!

Lovino squinted his eyes at the board, and cursed himself. He had forgotten his contacts today, the one day this lazy ass teacher decided to give notes. Che palle!

Lovino sighed again, and was eternally grateful (only for this one day, dammit!) for the Estonian kid sitting next to him that always had immaculate handwriting. He easily copied the blonde's notes, and didn't have to listen to the idiot blonde (aka the teacher) all day. He hated listening to her any other day, anyway. The teacher, Mrs. Belgium (seriously, what kind of a fuckin' name was that?) was actually kind of pretty, but she was a ditz that didn't understand what she was teaching half the time. Plus, she always had waffles*….

Finally, at the bell, Lovino quickly scooped up his belongings, cramming his notes into his binder. He ran almost full sprint down the hallways, trying not to be late to his next class, located clear on the other side of the building. That particular teacher, Mr. Netherlands (again, what the fuck?) was probably Lovino's favorite teacher. And not because of the subject, either.

It was because Mr. Netherlands was failing Antonio simply because 'you smile too much, Antonio.'

Lovino's mouth quirked up into a grin as he entered his English classroom, sitting in his assigned chair, his bag making a loud 'thwack' as it connected with the linoleum floor. He quickly reached down and pulled out his binder, smacking it on the desk and opening it. Lovino heard an infuriating laugh as the door was opened again, followed by an 'ohonhonhonhon' that he absolutely hated.

Those two bastards ruined this class for him. Especially the Spanish one. He was always smiling, those emerald eyes sparkling in that endear- frustrating way they did. He sat right next to Lovino, too, putting insult to injury. Plus Lovino swore Antonio was cheating off of him, because Antonio would always stare at Lovino during class.

Antonio plopped into the seat next to the Italian, and the Frenchman flitted over to bug a particularly shy boy from Canada named Mathew Williams.

"Hola,Lovi~ how are you doing? You look mad at something!" Antonio said, as he was pulling out his binder in the same fashion that Lovino had a few seconds earlier. Lovino scowled at the jovial Spaniard, and angrily tore the cap off of his pen.

"Maybe I'm mad at you for talking to me, bastardo. Ever think about that?" Lovino said heatedly, turning away from Antonio so as to begin taking the notes that were being projected onto the green board. Mr. Netherlands flipped the lights off so the students could see the projection more clearly, and the room was engulfed in darkness, bar the projector. In the middle of Lovino's transcription, though, he felt those eyes on him again. Lovino pursed his lips, and clenched his hand into a fist for a moment. His whole body seemed to flush every time Antonio would stare at him like that.

Dammit.

Thank God it was dark, no one could see, least of all Antonio. Lovino turned, though, and glared at him for safe measure. Those emerald eyes twinkled back at him as his face lit up with a bright smile. Lovino's scowl deepened and he turned back, continuing his notes. Lovino quietly noticed that Antonio never wrote down a single word, but, rather, stared at Lovino the whole time. Lovino would occasionally-every thirty seconds- turn to look at Antonio again, and they would stare at each other in the dark room. With the absence of light, they could barely make out the people around them, but they were in perfect clarity.

As if they were the only ones left. As if they were the only two that mattered to the other.

They would stare at each other for a little bit, then Lovino would huff, or scowl, or stick out his tongue, and return to taking notes diligently.

This continued for the rest of the bell, the whole hour-and-a-half. All that was scheduled for the class that day was to take notes, with Mr. Netherlands occasionally commenting on the lesson, explaining precisely what it was they were supposed to be learning.

When the bell rang, it was during one of their staring portions of their little dance, and they both jumped. Mr. Netherlands stood and flipped on the light, and everyone blinked at its harshness. Lovino and Antonio looked back at one another, and Lovino scowled his deepest scowl yet. He then proceeded to gather up his belongings, cram them into his bag, and stalk out of the room, trying to regain his dignity.

He couldn't believe he had done that. He had stared at Antonio, multiple times, dammit!

"Hey, Lovi~ so, uh, I was wondering if, uh, you could meet me in the studio extra early tomorrow because, uh, there were some intro's and exit's I wanted to run over with Mr. Germania. I mean, you know how careful we got to be and stuff*, so I figured it would help if our producer was there when we went over them, so you would know…stuff…and…" Antonio's voice trailed off there as Lovino stared at him. The Italian's face was a bright red, and his eyebrow's were drawn together, as if he was thinking about something really, really important.

"Fine, dammit. But only 'cause I know you'll say 'em if nobody tells you an outright 'no'." Lovino spat out after a second of thought, then added a "What time?"

"Oh, uh…8? Does that work? That way we'll have half an hour before we need to start up our mike check!" Antonio said, ever cheerful. If anything, Lovino noted, he was even happier, although how that was humanly possible Lovino would never know.

"Yeah, sure, whatever, bastard. See you then, dipshit." Lovino scoffed, and stalked off again. Which, of course, was probably the worst idea in all of history. Why? Because, in order for Antonio to say goodbye to the fastly-retreating Italian, he had to yell. He had to yell something really, really, really embarrassing, really, really, really loudly.

"GOODBYE, LOVI~ I'LL SEE YOU EXTRA EARLY TOMORROW MORNING SO WE CAN PRACTICE IT!"

Lovino froze where he was, and his eyes widened to an almost comical rate. No. Nono. notjustsaythatohfuck-

Laughter issued forth from all of the students around, perverted bastards. Alfred Jones, Mathew's twin brother (even though they had different last names, which never made any sense to Lovino), especially.

"Yeah, Lovi. Have fun practicing with your Spanish boyfriend tomorrow morning. Ahahaha!" The annoying American then proceeded to cram three hamburgers in his mouth at once, without dying.

"Don't fucking call me that, you sick ass perverted fucktard!" Lovino said, and continued to curse Alfred in Italian. "And he's not my fuckin' boyfriend, dammit!"

"Hm, methinks the boy doth protest too much." Said Mathias Kohler, some Danish idiot that always tagged along with Gilbert, arms wrapped around Lukas Bondevik, his Norwegian boyfriend.

"Mathias, leave him alone." Lukas said, and looked at Lovino with a neutral expression. Lovino glared at the lot of them, and took off, his face bright red from anger and embarrassment. The Spanish bastard was long gone, and he ran the whole way to his third block, Ancient History.

For the rest of the day, Lovino was teased and tormented as word of Antonio's farewell spread throughout the school. That Hungarian bitch, especially. Elizabeta something-or-other (Lovino couldn't pronounce it, why the hell should he bother to remember it?). She and Kiku Honda seemed to be obsessed with "pairing people up", especially if it involved two men together, so they peppered Lovino with questions on his "new-found relationship."

Lovino swore to God, Jesus, and the Madonna that if Kiku asked him if he was "seme" or "uke" in his relationship (whatever the fuck that meant) one more damn time, he'd murder the Japanese boy right there and then.

"Dammit, I'm not dating that Spanish idiot! He's a fucking dumbass who can't do anything right in his whole fucking life; why in the hell would I date him, eh? I barely even tolerate the fucktard as it is!" Lovino yelled at the pair as they walked outside toward the bus ramp. The two began to say something along the lines of what Mathias had said earlier, when they froze as they saw something behind the Italian.

"What the fuck are you-oh shit." Lovino said as he noticed a certain Spaniard standing still as a statue outside the door behind them.

"Ahaha, oh, uh, hey, Lovi. Uh, thank goodness I just r-ran into you, I was going to tell you that, uh, well, no te necesito para entrar temprano mañana, porque decidi que no tenia importancia.*-" Shit. Antonio was so upset he had started babbling in Spanish, something he hadn't done since middle school!

Lovino felt like the worst bastard in all of history.

"A-Antonio, it's alright. I'll s-still come in early if you really need me to. I mean, I-" Lovino tried to get his meaning across, that he was only trying to get those two meddling idiots off of his back, that he didn't really mean it, and oh fuck was Antonio gonna cry?

"Haha, no, Lovino, it's fine." Lovino? Since when in the hell did Antonio just call him Lovino? Granted, the boy had been trying to get Antonio to call him that for years, but…that name coming out of the Spaniard's mouth just seemed plain wrong.

"Antonio…I…" Lovino couldn't speak. He didn't know what you were supposed to say about something like this. Dammit, didn't his grandpa always tell him his big ass mouth was going to get him in trouble? DAMMIT!

"Look, Lovino, I'll just see you tomorrow as usual, okay? There's no need to come in early for me. I can do it by myself. I'm not an idiota you know." Antonio looked Lovino right in the eyes when he said that, and Lovino winced as if he had been physically struck by the older boy.

"Shit, Antonio, I didn't mean-" Lovino protested, by the Spaniard just looked at him blankly. As if…Lovino gasped.

Antonio had heard enough, Lovino realized. No longer would he hug Lovino, no longer would Lovino hear a Spanish accent lilt out his name through the hallways followed by an "I've missed you thiiiis much!" No longer would he see that smile directed at him the same way.

No longer would Antonio look at Lovino the same way he did in their class today.

"See you at 8:30, Lovino." Antonio said, enunciating the time so Lovino understood that Antonio did not want him to be there early tomorrow. Well, fine. Lovino got the message just fine.

"Yeah, whatever." The boy said tiredly, and his eyes fell to the ground as the Spaniard passed. Lovino's eyes filled with tears as he walked by, the coldness emanating from the other almost tactile. Lovino closed his eyes as Antonio paused by his side, and leaned down to whisper in his ear:

"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Lovino. I'll be sure to never do it again."

And with that he was gone.

Lovino could not recall a single time in his life of sixteen-and-a-half years when he had cried so steadily. Although, crying wasn't really the right word to describe such a strange phenomenon in the boy. 'Crying' denoted passiveness, an almost calm demeanor.

No.

This boy was not crying.

This boy was not passive.

This boy was not calm.

He was livid. Bawling. Nose running at almost the same rate as his tears. Throwing things against walls, turning over countless objects, smashing dishes, cursing anyone and everyone who tried to console him. Finally, he just sat down in the middle of the destruction and looked at his reflection in the window above him, the kitchen a disaster around him. He saw himself, sad, dejected, and lonely. And pissed.

That damn Antonio.

Why did he make him feel this way? And why, for fuck's sake, hadn't he noticed before fuckdammit?

Lovino was dying inside. Slowly, achingly, agonizingly dying. That was the only way to describe this pain, this torture he was being forced to endure by Antonio's hand. That damn voice that he heard every morning, without a care in the world. What would it sound like now? Lovino couldn't imagine how Antonio was feeling. Okay, maybe he could but it must be a different kind of pain. Not this…this self-loathing that was coursing through Lovino's every nerve, every vein, every thought.

It was his entire fault. Him and his stupid, loud-ass mouth.

The Italian looked at the screen on his phone, that stupid ass annoying voice spewing out of the speaker.

"Hola! This is Antonio's phone, sorry I can't reach it right now, I'm probably eating some tomatoes or something. Or trying to hug my Lovi~-" at that Lovino angrily threw his phone onto the floor. That was the fifth time Lovino had tried to call the Spanish boy, but Antonio still wouldn't answer.

"F-frate-fratello?" Came a wary voice from the kitchen's doorway, and Lovino glanced up. Feliciano stood in the middle of the walkway, his head tilted to the side in anxious curiosity at seeing his older brother in the midst of what looked like a tornado wreck.

"Yeah, Feli? What do you want?" Lovino's broken voice came, and he gasped in shock at how…broken he sounded. He shakily stood, and grabbed one of the few glasses that had miraculously escaped his sudden wrath. Filling it up with water straight from the tap, he chugged it quickly.

"Ve~ well, fratello was so mad about something earlier, I thought I'd bring you a friend over! So I went over to Antonio's, 'cause I know how close you are with him-"

"YOU DID WHAT?"

"And when I told him to come over, he just kind of looked at me funny, and asked if you were home. I told him I didn't know, because I had only just gotten out of school 'cause of the art club, and I lost my phone so I couldn't call and find out. But he said he would only come over if you weren't here. And I didn't want to make him mad, so I said that he could stay there, and I brought Ludwig over instead!" Feliciano gushed out, Lovino's mouth opening wider and wider, to an almost comical state.

"Y-you shouldn't have. Really." Lovino enunciated, and noticed a head of blonde stick his head around the doorway. Said German froze when he saw Lovino in the middle of the wrecked room.

"Feli…I think Lovino needs to be alone for a while." Damn German Macho Potato Bastard! Why did he have to have that…understanding tone? Fuck damn.

"Who are you to tell me what I do or don't need, asshole?" Lovino shouted, throwing his still half-full glass at the blonde man.

"Ve~ fratello. Don't throw things at Luddy, it's not very nice." Feliciano pouted, and Lovino only felt a little bad.

"I don't care! I can be as mean as I want! I mean, obviously people just assume I actually mean everything I fucking do or say, so why not make their assumptions true, eh? Goddammit! Too many people like your German bastard have automatically guessed that just because I don't like hugs, or I curse, or I say stupid ass shit that I don't actually mean, that I'm a horrible person! And now Antonio won't even look at me, dammit!" Lovino cursed himself for letting that last sentence slip, and fell silent at the look of confusion on his younger brother's face. But Ludwig understood.

"Lovino, I'm sure if you just told Antonio what-"

"Shut the fuck up, bastard. You don't think I haven't tried already, dammit? He won't pick up his fuckin' phone, the bastard." At this Lovino's tears welled up again, and he had to turn away so Ludwig and Feliciano couldn't see.

"Well, um, maybe we can take you out to eat pasta! I mean, I would make it for you, but you broke our kitchen, so I don't think it'll work out very well, ehe!" Feliciano suggested tenderly, and looked to Ludwig for consent. He was the only one there with a license, after all. The German nodded and fished his keys out of his pocket while Feliciano danced around excitedly.

"Ve~ affrettarsi su, il fratello! Mangeremo il pastaaaa*." The younger Italian was so excited he ran quickly out the door, and promptly; Lovino reached out and picked him up and gently set him back on his feet.

"You have to be more careful, Feli. Honestly, how many times have I told you?" Lovino said tiredly, and Feliciano looked at his brother with alarm.

"Eh? Fratello, you're being so nice! Oh, no, Luddy, this is worse than we thought! We have to get pasta in you as fast as possible, even if Luddy gets a speeding ticket, right Ludwig?" Feliciano babbled with increasing worry, while Ludwig blanched at the thought.

"Uh, Feliciano, how about we don't? I'd much rather get there without the police asking me useless questions. Gilbert would be…less than pleased to know I got in trouble with the police." Ludwig calmly announced, and the younger Italian wilted with disappointment.

"But we're still going to get pasta, si?" he asked, and Ludwig smiled.

"Yes, of course, Feliciano."

"Ve~"

Lovino almost puked, the room was so filled with sparkly rainbow unicorns.

The following day was, by far, the worst day in Lovino's existence. He had walked into school, hoping nobody would notice him, like usual. No such luck, of course. Everyone seemed to be laughing at him, Alfred especially.

"Hey, look, it's the fag! Haha, where's your boyfriend, gay boy?" Alfred barked down the hall at Lovino, who bristled.

"Oh, like no one knows you're fucking that British exchange student Arthur, Alfred! It's obvious! So why don't you get a life and stop being such a fucking hypocrite, eh?" Lovino screamed down the hall at the American. Alfred scowled, but backed down as Lovino's words did what they were meant to do. Said British exchange student blushed furiously, and began cursing at anyone who looked at him sideways.

Lovino quickly looked at the clock hanging at the end of the hallway. 7:58. He had practically gotten on his knees and begged his grandfather to bring him to school early. Lovino had to do this; he had to talk to Antonio to try and set things straight. Lovino began running towards the studio and burst in, to see Antonio speaking quietly to Mr. Germania. Lovino saw Gilbert and Francis in a corner, making perverted jokes about someone, Lovino couldn't quit tell who.

"Antonio!" Lovino yelled out, and the Spaniard looked up at him lazily. Lovino almost ran up to him and yell at him to go back to the way you were, idiot! But he stops himself. Lovino and Antonio stared at each other for a little bit and Antonio calmly answered with a "Yes, Lovino?"

"I need to talk to you. Now. In private." Lovino said hurriedly, and then seemed to catch himself. Wincing, as if saying this physically caused him harm, he uttered something he had never uttered before.

"Please, Antonio." That caught the older boy's attention. Antonio walked over to Lovino, as if to take him out into the hallway, but Lovino shook his head. Instead, Lovino pointed to the green room, where they shot the announcements every day. Lovino didn't want anyone to overhear their conversation. Antonio relented and headed there instead, Lovino following quickly. Gilbert and Francis watched them with interest.

"Ohonhonhon~ do you think our dear little Italian will apologize with a…present?" Whispered the Frenchman quietly, and the German next to him laughed to his heart's content.

"Kesesese, we'll have to ask 'Tonio later, kesese~!"

In the green room, Antonio sat down at his chair, and left Lovino to stand there, shamefully.

"Well, Lovino? You wished to speak with me?" Antonio asked coldly, and stared at the Italian with hard eyes.

"You know I didn't really mean anything I said yesterday, right? Out by the bus ramp? That Hungarian chick and Kiku wouldn't leave me alone, so I just wanted to get them to go away, and they kept asking about my relationship with you, and I kept telling them that we weren't like that, but they wouldn't believe me and I had to tell them something that would make them believe me, and then you heard it, and you seemed so mad, and I tried to call you, but you wouldn't pick up your phone and-"

"Lovino." Antonio interrupted, and Lovino stopped his inane babbling quickly. They stared at each other for a moment, which Lovino realized with disdain. There was too much staring today, dammit!

"Yes?" Lovino said quietly as Antonio refused to continue.

"I appreciate that you came to apologize, but there's no need." Lovino's heart rose along with his hope. Maybe Antonio did understand…but then why did he look so unhappy?

"What I don't understand is why you didn't tell me this earlier. I would have stopped bugging you the second you told me to. I know you tell me all the time not to hug you, or things of that sort, but you never outright told me to stop, only saying that they were annoying or something. I would have understood, Lovino." Antonio stood up and looked at the younger boy with sad eyes, and made to walk out of the green room to continue his conversation with Mr. Germania.

Lovino put his hand up, up, up, and he touched Antonio's chest. The older boy froze where he was and they locked eyes yet again, dammit! But this is a good thing, Lovino realized. They stared. Emerald into honey, never-ending fields of green into a beautiful golden city.

"You don't understand, Antonio…this is what I mean." Lovino leaned forward, into Antonio, farther and farther, until their lips almost touched…

"Ve~fratello, svegliarsi, siamo alla scuola." Feliciano's voice broke through Lovino's subconscious, and he sat up quickly, gasping for breath. He looked around him, dazed, seeing the storm through the windows of the bus.

It was a dream. All of it. There were no moments in English, no torture from Elizabeta, Kiku, and Alfred, no fight, no utterance of unforgivable words…

No kiss.

"What time is it?" Lovino asks with alarm. He looks to Feliciano, who answers with a puzzled "8:30."

Lovino bolted out of his seat, barely remembering to grab his school bag, and ran to the school, getting soaked in the process. He busted through the door and ran through the halls, almost slipping as he turned a corner. He had to get to Antonio. That's all that was running through his mind as he similarly ran through the halls, and a teacher yelled at him to "Slow down, Vargas!"

Lovino made it to the studio with ten minutes to spare. He quickly noticed that Sadiq had set up the cameras and had started up the computer in Lovino's absence. He also noticed Antonio sitting in his chair, prim and poised and ready for his five minutes of fame for the day.

Antonio saw Lovino about two seconds after Lovino walked into the green room and only has enough time to say a "Good morning, Lovi~" before Lovino has sealed Antonio's mouth with a harsh kiss.

The older boy froze underneath Lovino, but gradually melts into him, eyes closing in bliss. They continue for a while, lips connecting in a dance which rhythm is only known to the two participating in it. When they pulled apart to breathe, Lovino realized that Antonio had pulled him into his lap, so Lovino was straddling him in a very sensual way. Lovino's face flushed, and Antonio laughed.

"¿"¿Mi pequeño tomate, estas avergonzado?*" Antonio asked with laughter still in his voice, and he tilted his head to the right, moving his hands up and down Lovino's side, causing the younger boy to shiver uncontrollably in the Spaniard's arms.

"D-dammit, bastardo." Lovino whispered, and Antonio laughed again, kissing him lightly on the lips. Another laugh joined them, this time from the other side of the glass separating them from the green room and the director's room.

They both looked up, and Lovino saw Gilbert, Francis, and Sadiq in the director's room. Lovino paled, wondering why they were there…laughing…smirking…

"Oh, fotte*." Lovino whispered as Gilbert laughed even more, clicking buttons on the computer.

"Hey," he yelled at them through the window, "keep going! This is good stuff!"

"What are you guys doing, eh?" Antonio said, and Lovino's eyes widened even more than they already were. He knew what was going on, and now his life was going to be absolute hell. Antonio seemed to understand a few seconds later, and his eyes widened much like Lovino's has.

"Smile for the camera, boys! You're live!"

Does anyone else write whilst reading two fanfictions at the same time, and listening to music? No? Maybe that's why it takes me so long to write these damn things… On another note, I'm thinking about turning this into a high school AU series, but with different pairings every time. What do you guys think?

Happy thanksgiving, everyone!

R&R please! Internet cookies to all who do! *turns oven on*

*OK, I've only seen Belgium, like, twice in the series (I haven't found past episode 50 of World Series nor have I found past volume 2 of the manga) so I don't know if she's actually obsessed with waffles. But, waffles are Belgian, so I thought it would make sense.

*Well, my school has this super annoying teacher that complains about how "unprofessional" we are on the announcements, so we have to have specified sign-ons and sign-offs, but occasionally one of us will have this really fantastic idea but we have to run it over with one of the assistant principal's before we're allowed to do it

* note necesito para entrar temprano mañana, porque decidi que no tenia importancia.(Spanish)
I don't need you to come in early tomorrow because I decided it wasn't worth (English)

*affrettarsi su, il fratello! mangeremo il pastaaaa (Italian)
Hurry up, brother! We're going to eat pastaaaa (English)

*fratello, svegliarsi, siamo alla scuola (Italian)
brother, wake up, we're at school (English)

*¿Mi pequeño tomate, estas avergonzado? (Spanish)
My little tomato, are you embarrassed? (English)

*fotte (Italian)
fuck (English)