Antonio keeps looking over at Lovino and grinning, biting his lip and hurrying to turn back to his knees when his lover glares over.

Lovino is in no mood for shy glances and lip-biting grins. His wrists are still sore from the cuffs, where he scowled and tried to push his hands through them in the backseat of the car.

Antonio slips his hand across the cold stone bench and edges his fingers onto Lovino's, beaming when he's allowed to sit his hand so that their knuckles anchor them together. He hears Lovino exhale, and it's nervous and afraid, so he forces their palms to meet, their fingers interlocked, as close as they can be.

"I love you," he whispers, and there's not use in trying to stop the grin making its triumphant return. "I love you, love you, love you-"

"We get it," spits Lovino unkindly, but his fingers curl tighter, and he looks over at Antonio with softer eyes. "You always get me in trouble," he complains, with no real malice behind it.

Antonio laughs, loudly, and it runs through the tension in the little room like cream, and Lovino's shoulders aren't as stiff anymore. "I don't think you need me for that."

Lovino just shakes his head, since he can't argue, and that's so rare he doesn't know what to say.

It had all began with a roll of the eyes.

Lovino, of course, knew Rome inside and out. He was also a show-off, so he had no problem when Antonio asked for an exclusive tour, playing at tourists all day, taking photos and eating ice-cream, the sun still warm in the late summer, but not over-bearing. It wasn't the best date ever, but it was nice.

They had stopped at the Trevi Fountain, and Antonio was making a big show of wishing for ridiculous things, like perfect hair every morning (as if he needed it), or to suddenly be a genius, flipping the coins clumsily over his shoulder to make Lovino laugh.

It hadn't been that funny, but unlike the figures behind them, Lovino wasn't made of stone. He chuckled along as he sat with his back to the water, going quiet when Antonio stood in front of him and wrapped his arms around his waist.

"Can I wish for you?" He asked, his eyes trailing over his body and back up to his face, and Lovino was about to grimace and tell him that was a fucking horrible line when he noticed a young man behind Antonio stare directly at them and roll his eyes, with a little shake of the head to go with it. The man said nothing, but walked up near them to the fountain, with a camera in his hand, making a point not to look over again.

Lovino stiffened as he walked past, unsure of what to do. Antonio hadn't noticed, obviously, so he was alone to deal with it. And he did have to deal with it, no one rolled their eyes at his relationship and got away with it.

But at the same time, he felt himself being judged, being hounded for his behaviour. He had expected this at some point, but they'd walked hand in hand and no one had said a word, so he'd let his guard down. It wasn't poor Antonio's fault, but he was quickly pushed aside as Lovino stood up and wiped his trousers off, shamefaced. "Come on," he muttered.

"Lovino?" Piped Antonio immediately, taking his hand, because his wish to become a genius hadn't come true yet. "What's the matter, love?"

His eyes narrowed at the pet name, opening his mouth to give a lame excuse for the moment when-

He could hardly believe it at first. But that son of a bitch beside them fucking tutted. At them. At their affection. It was obvious and plain as day, and Lovino's grip tightened on Antonio with all the heat in his blood at the little noise.

Antonio took a step closer, his eyes wide with worry now, slipping a hand on Lovino's waist to get his attention, since he seemed to be glaring at something over his shoulder. When the firey hazel eyes snapped back, there wasn't time to ask what was happening before their lips crashed together.

The force and surprise of it almost knocked his balance. Lovino was nervous in public, and sometimes nervous in kissing, but neither of those seemed to be a hindrance now. Antonio was sure his lover's fists were balled in his shirt, pulling him close in case he had the slightest intent of pulling away before he was finished. He felt Lovino give a soft growl against him, presumably irritated at his lack of reaction. He corrected that quickly and raised his arms to his back, massaging little circles in reassurance of whatever he was feeling. Antonio didn't know what Lovino's point was, here, but he supported it.

That certainly got the attention of the gathered tourists, so there were plenty of witnesses when Lovino pulled away and whipped back around to the man, who gave him a quick telling-off in Italian. Just as rapidly, hot-headed little Lovino had argued back, pointing at himself and his boyfriend and sparking what seemed to be an actual debate.

And then an actual fight, where the man had strolled up to Lovino, met his eye and glared, and Lovino had shoved him away. He had been shoved back. There wasn't time for Antonio to intercept before Lovino had managed to throw in the final push.

As Lovino had yelled back when Antonio pulled him away, noticing the street police making their lazy rush over, if he had wanted to stay dry, he shouldn't have picked a fight beside a fountain.

Antonio remembers with a little quirk of his lips the look on Lovino's face as the bastard fell into the water, along with his fancy camera, to salt the wound. He hadn't smirked or enjoyed giving someone hassle. He had lost his temper, he stood there, shocked, enraged, he had meant to shove him, but never for him to meet the water. Antonio would tell him it was important to think things through before he acted, but at heart, he didn't care for rules or those who abided by them. He cared for people who were passionate, who felt things so strongly they lost their temper and pushed citizens into fountains for their bigotry.

Lovino is being held for assault and breach of the peace, of course, but thanks to the number of prudish witnesses, they are both charged with public indecency. It's going to take some amount of wiggle room to get out of this one and not have his knuckles rapped when he gets back home. He doesn't dare to think of what Lovino's boss will say.

He leans over, with the signature smile unwilling to drop, and sets his head on his shoulder. "I like getting in trouble with you," mutters Antonio, his fingers still working on Lovino's hand to bring him some comfort.

Lovino sighs and gives a grateful squeeze. "Good. You're stuck with me."


I wanted to write Lovino getting angry at a homophobe
I really have no excuse.