Hey, what's up with you guys! I've been pretty busy doing homework, school and starting to do things of which are so important in life...like Tumblr! Hehehe, I just finished my Spamano fic just for you guys! So please enjoy this one-shot called...!

Aftermath of Lovino's Date

"Lovi, is everything okay?"

Lovino Vargas glanced away from his boyfriend as they walked down the sidewalk to his house; the night was slowing upon the skies as it shaded itself from light orange to a dark violet color that glossed itself carefree and proud. Lovino was feeling light-headed with himself after their earlier date today where he, without admitting any sort to Antonio, had a great time. But he wasn't going to let the bastard know.

"Si, everything's fine..." he mumbled his reply.

Antonio's smile caught his attention as they walked side-by-side. The neighboring houses were all seemingly quiet for a day that was begging to end—not that Lovino wanted the day to become finished. He would love to spend time with his bastard boyfriend but then he would feel really awkward and flush too much and he didn't want his little brother to think he was such a shy-person.

"I had lots of fun today," Antonio said gleefully. "I thought you were cute when you tried to hold my hand today."

"I-I wasn't trying to hold your damn hand, bastardo!" exclaimed Lovino who commenced flushing. "I have you know I would've run away when I had the damn chance if it weren't for your asshole friends. The date we had been better off without bastardo stalkers."

Antonio nervously laughed. "Yeah, my friends are an odd bunch, si?"

Lovino rolled his eyes in response. He never got why Antonio was friends with a French pervert (who he swore to God made more flirtatious moves on him than any other possible person besides Arthur) and a self-absorbed Prussian guy who by all means was the definition of 'un-awesome' to him.

So why was Antonio friend with them? Lovino liked to think they were demente, or in English, demented to one another and needed their stupidity to rule their weird-ass world. But that was Antonio's bizarre life, and Lovino refused any part in it.

"Anyway, are you sure you want me to walk you home?" asked Antonio. "I get the feeling your Grandpa doesn't really like me. Not yet, to say the least."

"What do you mean, 'not yet?'" Lovino interrogated him suspiciously. "We had one date. That's it. No more of this romantic crap you poison on others!"

"But Lovi, aren't we a couple?"

Lovino felt his face go hotter and pouted. "Not at all!"

Antonio came to a precipitous halt. Lovino was trying his best by ignoring his petty scenes where he tried to get you to notice and feel pity. But not Lovino, not for him.

Lovino nonetheless turned a half concerned and half careless look at Antonio who, without Lovino's knowledge had befallen to the floor and was on his knees like a pathetic prisoner above his master.

"But Lovino..." his head hanged down and a shadow casted his eyes.

Why the hell is he looking upset? Lovino thought aggressively. Of course he looked upset. That was the mere definition of how a person felt when he or she was given tragic news, you idiot! Surprisingly, he at least was good in some classes like English. He was an average student in that class, and Mr. Kirkland was an ass.

"Uh…Antonio?" Lovino called him. No answer. "Look, I didn't want to admit this but…I did enjoy our time together." Antonio's head suddenly lifted with small tears from the cornered parts of his eyes and a smile of happiness. Lovino pointed at him bossily. "But I'm not admitting I like you or anything, bastardo!"

"Si!" Antonio chided happily with that stupid grin on his face.

Lovino was curious about why he couldn't just flat-out tell him that he wasn't the type to be in a relationship? He knew perfectly well that relationships never work out after high school and, dumbly as it could be; it caused Lovino to wonder about the future with Antonio.

Antonio, who seemed oblivious to Lovino's scowling slash thinking mind, got up and hopped over to his side. Lovino didn't think twice when he felt something touched his hand—more like holding it. He looked over to Antonio who kept that realistic smile of his and flushed to realize it was his hand that he was holding. Lovino swiped it off and began trudging off, followed by an enthusiastic Spaniard who seemed generally pleased with himself.

Lovino refused to look down, but his eyes glanced nonchalantly at Antonio's hand. Was it possible to kidnap a hand? Let alone rape it by constantly holding 24/7? God, what the hell was he thinking?

He refused to become the one who reached out for his hand, he needed to keep his dignity in check, but the temptation was too vast for Lovino and he found himself slowly reaching back for Antonio's hand.

However, Lovino caught Antonio moving his head to him and he quickly shoved his hand inside his pants' pocket. Not only was it stupid, it made Antonio stare at him puzzlingly.

"Uh...?"

"Wha-what, bastardo?" demanded Lovino who looked away at his hand in Antonio's pocket. "It's totally normal to put hands in pockets."

"I thought that it was for our pants and not someone else's-"

"Shut up!" He was feeling a horrible desire to pull it out and just straight-out run away from this idiot.

Instead, he simply took his hand off Antonio's pocket and began pacing himself forward. His house wasn't too far away. Just one more block and they could put this all behind them. Their silence was killing Lovino but he just had to put it up for a little longer. Why was it so hard to stay cool when you were doing dump shit? Was it just the way of life to make simple mistakes? Yes, it was, Lovino thought. No matter what, I'll always make mistakes…

Lovino was so transcended with his clouds of sadness he hadn't noticed that Antonio was slowly slithering his hand with Lovino's and held it tightly. When his mind was in the right place and he felt something touching his hand, he recoiled mentally as he stared at the obviously joyous Antonio who hummed along the way. He even had the audacity to swing their hand-holding hands like school kids!

"What the hell are you doing?" snarled Lovino bitterly.

"I'm holding your hand!" replied Antonio. "Didn't you want me to hold it?"

"I never made an attempt like that! Hell, I never even said anything about 'holding hands' with you!" he recoiled, flushing madder than ever. Or was this bashfulness?

"Pero mi amor!" Antonio cried.

"NOPE, NOT DOING THIS!" And Lovino attempted to pull out of this stupid hand holding, but to no avail did Antonio let go. It took a toll on Lovino because of the minutes wasted on pulling his hand when Antonio was clearly stronger.

"Lo siento, but my love for you is a lot. Te amo, Lovino~!"

"I swear to Dio, you are the definition of-"

"Romantic?"

"Idiotic…"

Antonio gave off a playful tongue and stared into his eyes. Lovino glared daggers at his green lit eyes, realizing they were the perfect shade of green.

"Lovi, what do you see when you look into my eyes?" Antonio asked.

"I see a tomato bastardo,"

"Okay, but what else?"

Lovino furrowed his eyebrows together. What did he mean by 'what else' and why was his heart racing inside? It was hurting his chest rather frequently than usual—especially in the presence of this Spaniard. If that was the case, then why didn't he just push him away, dash into his house and never speak to him again?

Because it was rude—despite himself being at times rude to him, so it was natural—and it would totally break Antonio in half. Lovino began to soften his expression on this idiot and looked into his eyes… All he could muster up in those magnificent eyes were his reflection of himself and green-colored irises.

"I only see myself, your eye color and you."

Antonio gave a warmful smile. "Whenever I look at you, I want to only see you. I know this might be the cheesiest thing I'll ever say, but I have to say it before whatever the future had in store for us changes it." His tone sounded awfully serious—it was very unlike him.

Lovino gulped as Antonio leaned his forehead to touch his.

He whispered softly, "I love your eyes, not because they have the perfect shade of brown—but because they are your eyes. There can't be another kind like yours no matter what. One's eye can show a great part of one's character."

"Did you take that from a book or something?" Lovino doubtfully asked.

"Shhh, let me finish," he said. "As I was saying, you've got a brilliant character in yourself. You may seem cold-hearted and rude and at times a pain to others—" Lovino felt like crying for a moment—"but you happen to make me feel whole. No one knows the kind and sweet person you hold on to. You just gotta show it."

Lovino felt tears were pouring on his cheeks like waterfalls furiously crushing down. His heart was feeling the sheer emotions of gladness, gratitude and… And love. He felt love. And it was coming from his boyfriend who loved him as much as he did, though he never showed it. Lovino began feeling regret for not showing enough love and he out of character-ly plunged himself into a hugging position with a surprised Antonio.

XxXxXxX

"Ah, big brother is so happy!" Feliciano cheered as he peered shyly at his bedroom window. He watched as the couple outside were hugging in unity. He turned his head to face Ludwig. "Big brother and Antonio remind me of us!"

"Uh…you think we're like them?" Ludwig asked as he watched the couple in disbelief.

"Si, you are somewhat like Lovino!" said Feliciano knowledgeably.

"There is no way I'm anything like that tomato bastard!" Ludwig shouted and gasped.

"Huh?"

"What?" Ludwig asked. He couldn't believe it…he was somewhat like Lovino after all.