Italian Inquisition…
Ludwig yawned deeply as he opened the door to his boyfriend's apartment.
His boyfriend. Even in his head it sounded weird to the blonde, serious German. Feliciano had been Ludwig's best friend for five years, ever since University, but Ludwig had only recently built up the courage to ask the Italian out. In fact, their first date had only been last week, and there hadn't been another one since. Ludwig was determined to take their relationship forward slowly. They had been friends, after all, and if their relationship ended up… unsatisfactory, Ludwig didn't want to loose one of his few friends. The blonde smiled gently to himself as he looked at the silver key in his palm. Now he thought about it, the two had already done things most couples didn't achieve for months. They'd kissed – Feliciano was extremely touchy feely – they'd slept in the same bed – in university, Feliciano had gotten extremely home sick, and Ludwig couldn't count the amount of times he'd woken up to find the usually preppy Italian had walked down the corridor to his room and latched onto his waist, dry tear tracks still marring his face – they had each other's apartment keys – Feliciano wouldn't stop losing his – they'd shared baths… the list went on. Ludwig shook his head, stowing his key away.
"Feliciano…" He called tiredly, turning the light on. He dumped his coat on the sofa, too tired to hang it up, and headed towards the kitchen. He was only a couple of steps away from Feliciano's prized kitchen when he froze. Slowly turning, he stared incredulously at the occupants of his Italian boyfriend's living room sofa.
"Unobservant." A blonde man remarked in a thick French accent, scribbling something on a clipboard he was balancing on his knees and pushing Ludwig's coat off of himself. "One mark down for him already." Sitting next to him, a brown haired man with bright green eyes shook his head.
"Nah, I don't think that counts. He's obviously just got in from work, and has to be exhausted." He commented airily. The Frenchman glanced at him.
"Works long hours? Poor little Feli needs as much time with his love as possible." He reasoned, scribbling something else down. Sitting on the arm of the sofa, a long haired woman in a green dress surveyed him.
"Well, he looks strong." She commented. "That's exactly what Feli needs; someone able to protect him." A dark haired man wearing glasses leaning casually forwards on the sofa nodded.
"Indeed. Even if he never needs protecting, Feliciano needs someone to make him feel safe." The Frenchman scowled, but scribbled on the clipboard. Ludwig cleared his throat, finally finding his voce.
"Excuse me, but what are you doing in Feliciano's apartment?" He asked, annoyed. The Frenchman stared at him for a moment, before scribbling on his clipboard.
"German." He muttered. The green eyed man shook his head.
"Come on, you can't mark him down for that." He argued. The Frenchman looked at him.
"I can, and I will." He growled out. Sat at the green-eyed man's feet, a man who looked vaguely like Feliciano scowled.
"I don't like him." He stated. "Who knows what this Macho Kraut could do to Feliciano…" The green-eyed man laughed, patting the Feliciano look-alike's head.
"Ah, Lovino, you're so cute…" He laughed. Ludwig raised an eyebrow. Lovino? Well that explained a lot – he'd never met Feliciano's older brother, but the preppy Italian talked about him a lot. The rest of his interviewers must all know or be related to Feliciano in some way as well, but he didn't recognise any of them.
Although… Ludwig let his eyes flicker to the older man on the other side of the French. That said, Ludwig would recognise that face anywhere, being in every other photo Feliciano owned. He'd never met Feliciano's grandfather, but nodded in respect to the Italian, who regarded him coldly.
"Do you always come home this late?" He asked. Ludwig blinked.
"N- no, I just had a late shift today…" He answered. Feliciano's grandfather frowned, before standing up.
"Arms out." He instructed in a military-like voice. Ludwig, with his military-esque upbringing, automatically responded, spreading his arms. Feliciano's grandfather circled him, humming to himself.
"Do you know who I am?" He asked as he circled Ludwig, who nodded.
"You're Feliciano's grandfather and legal guardian Roma." He answered. "Ex-military, has been running a bar in central London for two years, brought Feliciano and Lovino after the death of their parents from the age of five." He fired off, digging the facts up from random stories told by Feliciano over the last five years. "Likes alcohol, fighting and woman, doesn't like parsnip, very protective of your grandchildren, taught Feliciano how to paint and cook-"
He was cut off by the Frenchman.
"Merde, how do you remember all this?" The blonde exclaimed. "I've known them since Feli and Lovi were seven, but I didn't know most of this!" Ludwig looked at him.
"Feliciano's always talking about his family." He answered. There was a stunned silence. Then;
"You mean you actually listen to him?" Lovino asked. "Properly? To every word he says?" The long haired woman looked at him admiringly.
"I think… mister Ludwig might truly care for Feli…" The tips of Ludwig's ears were stained with dark pink at this, but before he could reply, the front door opened. Eight heads turned expectantly, but instead of the preppy Italian they expected, an annoyed looking man with thick eyebrows and ash-blonde hair entered. Eyebrows sighed when he saw the people on the sofa.
"Thought I'd find you here…" He muttered. He nodded at Ludwig, who, confused, nodded politely back as the man stalked to the sofa and grabbed hold of the Frenchman's collar.
"For heavens sake…" He growled, tugging the Frenchman out of the chair. "I told you not to interfere, didn't I? He turned to glare at the green eyed man. "You as well, Antonio." He snapped. Antonio had the decency to look a little bashful. Eyebrows scowled. "Just take your fiancé and go home before you cause the guy any more mental trauma. And you two…" He turned, still holding the Frenchman's collar to direct his comments at the woman and Glasses. "I thought you'd be too mature to be dragged into this, Roderich. And you, Elizabeta, should know that Feliciano should be trusted to make his own decisions!" Eyebrows shot a glare around the room.
"All of you, home, now." Eyebrows seemed to command some respect – or fear, Ludwig couldn't work out which – for the small crowd started to slowly file out, leaving Ludwig, Roma, Eyebrows and the Frenchman, who carefully tried to escape. Eyebrows glared at him.
"You're staying with me, Francis." He growled. "I have no doubt as of who orchestrated this entire interrogation."
"But Arthur!" Francis protested. "This is about cute little Feli's future happiness!" Arthur ignored the blonde, turning to Roma.
"It's best if you head home too." He stated. "If you're here when Feliciano gets home, then you won't get to surprise him when you visit tomorrow." Roma looked horrified at the thought, and quickly left the apartment. Arthur turned to address Ludwig.
"Good luck." He stated. "Just know that if you do hurt Feli, those idiots will be after you." He gestured to Francis as he talked. "And this time, I won't hold them back." Nodding politely once more, he turned to leave, insulting Francis as he did so. Ludwig stared after them, and sat down. That was way too tiring…
"I'm home~!" Feliciano called as he slipped through the door of his apartment. He blinked when he didn't receive an answer – he'd seen Ludwig's car outside, so he had assumed he'd been waiting for the Italian.
"Ludwig?" He switched on the light, and smiled. Ludwig sat slumped in the sofa, his normally slicked back creeping into his face, his eyes closed and breathing even. Creeping across the room, Feliciano carefully arranged him into a more comfortable position, before slipping out of his clothes and squishing himself onto the sofa next to his boyfriend. He smiled lovingly as he pressed a kiss to Ludwig's forehead.
"Goodnight…" He whispered, and smiled softly.