Perche No Sono Fiero

Lovino was not a bad person. He didn't set out to hurt anyone, it just happened. It wasn't his fault he had a temper problem and it wasn't his fault that he couldn't be like Feliciano - not like he ever even wanted to. He was himself and that was that.

Unfortunately that didn't seem to be good enough for anyone else.

Everyone always ended up with Feli and seemed to enjoy leaving him out. He'd run away, ignored family tradition and chosen to go into an entirely different profession. It was the one thing he had that Feliciano didn't and he'd sooner give up tomatoes than give up cooking. Sure, Feli could cook to an extent, but his talents ended at pizza. Lovino cooked anything he could think up, soaking in the attention it brought him like a sponge. It didn't matter if his aunts and uncles complained or if his nonno got upset, he was doing what he loved. So he had alienated himself even more, so what? They could all go to hell. He only needed himself.

Or he thought so until he met Antonio.

Perhaps it would be better to say he noticed Antonio, and vice versa. They had always been friends, in a manner of speaking, but it wasn't until he started high school that he noticed him as something other than an annoyance. He may have had a soft spot - allowing him to teach him Spanish, running to him when he was scared and treating him just a bit better than others - but it was never like this.

He had fallen in love with him.

It was like a sappy love story, the kind Feli always fawned over. One day he just…stood out. He walked in on him playing guitar in an abandoned classroom and had just…fallen. He had blushed and made an excuse, cursed a bit, and left but ever since he'd had a sort of sixth sense for the Spaniard. At first it was a best friend relationship that changed and morphed as he made his way through school and college and girls and boys into full blown love.

And he couldn't have it.

Antonio deserved far better than an outcast with an attitude problem and a dirty mouth. He knew Antonio loved him and he couldn't let him.

So he dated girls. Every girl he could find, any girl willing to go to dinner. All he did was one date, maybe two, a dinner, a movie, maybe a small kiss if the conversation had been particularly interesting, but nothing more. He never made it out to be more than that, never really hurt them. He was still a perfect gentleman, but he couldn't stand anything more than that. Couldn't stand the way he compared each and every one of them to Antonio. Couldn't stand how he looked for girls that had just the slightest hint of Antonio in them. And he especially couldn't stand how he made sure Antonio saw him almost every time. Each time he looked worse than the last, a small light dimming behind his eyes.

He felt a bit better when he'd opened his restaurant, automatically hiring Antonio as his waiter. Because he had no other choice. The man was charismatic and friendly without even trying and fit the job perfectly. The only better place would be the kitchen and he just couldn't be in the same room as him all day. He's go insane and spill every thought he had and Antonio's life would be ruined.

Still, that small fact did nothing for the pain.

~Pomodoro~

"Lovi, we have to leave soon or we're going to miss the party!" Feliciano called up the stairs. Lovino ignored him, far too preoccupied with Antonio. He had brought him over to be sure he dressed accordingly and that his outfit was in order. It was second nature for him to review the Spaniard's clothing before every formal meeting after he had shown up in an entirely mismatched suit for a meeting with the real estate agent. Honestly, who thought brown pants went with a blue jacket?

The only downside to this exercise on proper fashion was the amount of time he had to spend in very close quarters with him, his hands wherever they needed to be. The worst was when his shirt was not quite tucked in right. He'd have to put his hands all over his abdomen, too close to vital parts for his comfort. And, just his luck, they would start to wake up. He pretended he didn't notice, ignored his own reaction entirely and forced his attention on the task alone.

He got lucky today, the only problem was his tie. Still, he'd have to be close to him. He got it over with quickly, thankful that he'd about being still before. If Antonio moved just an inch he was sure he'd start speaking and only stop when he could get his lips on any inch of tanned skin he could reach. Antonio wouldn't complain, by the look in his eyes, and he was tired of hiding how he felt. Everyone damn well knew he loved him except for Antonio. It was starting to become tiresome.

He would have moved those very intoxicating inches between them if not for the overbearing fact that the party was at his restaurant and he needed to open it for basically the entire town.

"How do you always manage to mess something up?" he whispered, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. He wanted to kiss him, to tell him everything, but he just couldn't do that to himself. Antonio would find someone better eventually and then he'd be alone again. At least as friends he still had him.

"Perfect." He heard the sarcasm in his voice, but thankfully it was lost on Antonio, who simply thought he meant his tie, though it did look perfect with the emerald color of his eyes. Again, the heat rose in his cheeks, turning that tomato red Antonio loved to tease him about. "Now let's go you idiot." He tried to relieve his anger by stomping his way out. It did nothing but keep those emerald eyes glued to his back.

~Pomodoro~

Lovino smiled at his restaurant with pride. It hadn't been easy, at least not entirely, to open it. Business school had been tough and it hadn't felt all that great to hear how much his family disapproved, but it was his dream to own a restaurant and art just wasn't his forte. Cooking was an art all on its own, though, if you asked him. It also had the added benefit of Antonio's company almost all day. As much as he didn't want the man to love him, he wanted him near him. He could feel those eyes watching him half the time - while he pretended to talk to Francis, while he dropped off orders, when he picked up orders. It was both exhilarating and extremely frightening, running around a hot kitchen and avoiding grasping frog hands wasn't exactly the most attractive thing on the world. Not, that he wanted to seem attractive. It just wasn't cool knowing you looked like crap when someone was watching you.

Regardless of his psychotic crush, he managed to keep the restaurant open and doing well enough that he lived pretty comfortably. Plus he could afford to pay Antonio what he deserved; some of the costumers were not very nice but he smiled and treated them no different. They did so well that when a TV host from the food channel stopped in on a road trip, he was instantly put on camera and praised for all the world to see. Which had been embarrassing as shit. Plus Antonio texted him at least twenty times to tell him what a cute tomato he was. The bastard. But his thirty minutes of pain ended in bringing in so much business that first he had to hire Heracles as help for Antonio and then he'd needed help for himself which brought Francis and, by default, Arthur. Francis was hired on the spot, regardless of his perverted nature because, unlike Arthur, his cooking was edible. And not entirely horrible if he had to really compliment the bastard. And now, he had gotten approved to expand and give them more room and more air. Which was the entire reason for the party. Even if it had all been Antonio's idea.

He'd cooked for hours to feed everyone he knew would be coming, Alfred and Ivan alone needed the most, and had pulled all the strings his nonno had to get as much of the best liquor as possible. It hadn't exactly been cheap, but the look on Antonio's face at his favorite brand of sangria - as well as enough of it to knock out an elephant - was worth buying several hundred cases more.

Arthur was drunk and ranting at his boyfriend by midnight, only three hours in. Alfred, who had eaten as much as expected and was therefore the least drunk of them all, carried him home, only looking slightly upset about leaving early. Gilbert had brought his date of the week, who he quickly dumped on Francis at the first sight of Alfred's twin. Francis didn't seem to mind and the girl was all too happy to have another foreign man to cling to. Gilbert got wonderfully drunk and kept asking…Alfred's brother for pancakes.

Lovino was almost positive he was one of the least drunk people there. The only one more sober was probably Yao, who had learnt the hard way that being drunk around Ivan was a signed death sentence. That man was terrifying even when stumbling.

It was in the middle of a vary masculine conversation with Feliks about fashion that Antonio showed up. He was as drunk as Arthur, though he managed to stand, barely. From the determined look on his face, this was not going to be fun.

"Bastardo, what do you think you're doing?" He hated how his cheeks flushed as Antonio stared at him almost hungrily. He vaguely heard Feliks snicker before Toris dragged him away.

His face heated up more as the man leaned against him and spoke quietly into his ear. The words were slurred so horribly he had no clue what he was trying to say and just stared at him angrily. Bastard, getting drunk and than using him as a damn leaning post.

He nearly squeaked when Antonio leaned further into him and made as if to kiss him. He couldn't have their first kiss in front of everyone! It was unromantic and far too embarrassing. He was going to shove him away but the lips missed their target as Antonio fell asleep standing up and still leaning on Lovino. A very, very embarrassed and angry Lovino.

Sighing, he picked the Spaniard up and proceeded to kick everyone out. He couldn't leave Antonio asleep here and he couldn't leave a bunch of drunks in charge of locking up. They complained bitterly, but after letting them take a few bottles of alcohol and reminding them that most of them had work in the morning, they left.

Antonio remained asleep throughout the thankfully short walk to his apartment. Lovino propped him against the wall so he could fish the key from the slumbering man's pocket, trying not to think about where his hands were. Once he opened the door, he dragged him through to the bedroom, again keeping his mind on his task, and undressed him. He left his boxers on, only laughing a little at the tomato print, and laid him comfortably in bed.

This was the hard [art now, deciding if he should stay or leave him alone. He'd probably be too hung-over to move in the morning… and he had a shift at four… If he wanted to see him at all tomorrow he'd have to stay. Damn.

Pretending he was five again and a storm had driven him to Antonio's house, he quickly undressed and curled under the covers far enough from Antonio that he could only just hear his light breathing. Just like when he was a child, Lovino stared at Antonio curiously, wondering how anyone could be so happy all the time. He knew it wasn't always true, he'd found that around the same time he'd begun to notice him more, as was natural, but he still smiled as if nothing could touch him. It was confusing and annoying and just plain amazing.

Antonio rolled over, crossing the invisible line he always made between them and pulled Lovino against his chest. He felt his face blush as his breaths ghosted over his curl and made him shiver. He listened, as he noticed words spilling from the Spaniard's mouth as if he were speaking in his native tongue. Which, he realized after the tenth 'mucho,' he was. He listened harder, starting to catch a full sentence. He may not remember much, but he knew enough.

"Te…amo mucho…mucho grande…" he repeated over and over, burning Lovino's cheeks with the heat it brought in him. He wanted to wake the idiot up and demand to know what he was talking about, but he was probably dreaming of tomatoes.

Lovino turned away from him, facing the windows that were sure to let in far too much sun later and fell asleep after counting each and every time his name was said.

~Pomodoro~

Lovino groaned, trying to turn away from the sun now penetrating his sleepy haze. Maybe he could buy Antonio black curtains one day, this sun was too annoying.

Speaking of Antonio, the man was half hanging off the bed, the same spot his had kicked him to after he had tried to pull his damn curl. Bastard deserved to fall off the bed completely.

As if reacting to his thoughts, Antonio suddenly sat up, only to fall flat on his face. Lovino winced thinking how much worse his hangover would be now. He almost laughed at the dumbfounded expression on his face when he peered over the edge of the bed. Idiot probably thought they'd done something other than sleep. The idea made him flush.

"Ah, Buenos Dias…" His voice sounded hoarse and cracked, not that he noticed. The look on his face coupled with his voice and his earlier thoughts made him want to run under the overs and hide.

"Buon Mattina, bastardo…" he whispered, immediately burying himself in the covers. He'd sounded as if he'd just gotten fucked senseless. And now he was acting like an embarrassed virgin. Merda.

"Well?" He wasn't quite sure why he'd said it, but Lovino suddenly wanted Antonio back in bed with him.

Of course that idiot couldn't figure it out, responding with a very intelligent "Que?"

"Are you coming back to bed or not? You don't need to be up." Crap. He'd sounded like they'd done it. Antonio was going to think that they'd had sex.

He said nothing though, climbing in bed and wrapping himself up snugly. Why did he always keep his house so cold anyway? Lovino sighed internally, giving in to what his still tired mind told him to do and moved over so his shoulder was just touching Antonio's. The Spaniard stared at him and then began laughing as if it were the cutest thing ever, even going so far as to hug him. Of course, he didn't freak out. Jumping was just his natural reaction to attempted rape. Because that was definitely what Antonio was doing.

"B-Bastard! Don't act like we did it! Nothing happened!"

Not that he would mind all that much, but that wasn't the point.

"Not even one little kiss?"

Christ, how could this guy be so dense? Oh, right, hangover. Merda.

"Not even! You fell asleep on me!"

He looked disappointed for a second before a smile light of realization clicked on.

"If nothing happened, Lovi, why are you lying so close to me?"

He hadn't thought of that…

"It's…It's not like I want to! I'm just cold! It's not may fault you're a damn heater."

He turned away, hoping Antonio would drop the subject.

He didn't.

"Are you sure nothing happened, Lovi? I can tell when you're lying~!"

Dio he wished this guy would just sleep. Who has a hangover, falls on his head and then yells at people? Probably the friends of the people that yelled at them. Maybe if he just stayed quite, he'd go to sleep and he wouldn't have to ask that nagging little question nudging him with the force of Feliciano demanding pasta.

"Did…" He really didn't need to ask, right? Right? "Did you mean what you said…last night?"

Antonio stayed silent, causing Lovino to close his eyes and pretend that maybe he hadn't heard him and he could just forget about it.

As if that would happen. There was no way he could have meant it, he shouldn't have meant it. Lovino huffed and started to crawl out of the bed. He didn't want to hear this crap…

A hand on his ankle stopped him, pulling him back toward the Spaniard.

"Don't leave Lovi!" Why did he have to sound so desperate? It wasn't fair. "I'm sorry, I cant remember…What…" God, he was going to ask what he'd said. He couldn't say it out loud. "What if I try real hard and when I remember I'll come to work all dressed up and then I'll tell you? Si?"

It wasn't that bad of an idea, apart from the fact that he'd be having a heart attack until he got an answer. Still, it had it's fine points, so Lovino moved next to Antonio again and nodded. He called him stupid before he felt too girly though.

~Pomodoro~

Two days went by with no answer from Antonio.

Lovino was contemplating screaming at the man if he didn't figure it out soon. It was torturing him to the point where he'd tried to read Antonio's mind. Or at least that's what Francis had said when he'd caught him staring. It wasn't his fault the bastard wasn't all that hard to look at. He was simply admiring the way his relatively plain uniform fit him; to make sure he hadn't wasted money on something unflattering and horrid.

"Mon cher, you should just tell Antonie how you feel. It would be easier on both of you, non?" Francis asked as they cleaned the kitchen a little before closing. He'd been sighing every few minutes, apparently, and the wine bastard felt the need to comment. Though his comment wasn't quite awful.

"And then you can come back here and prove your love. I'd be happy to give you a few tips. All you have to do is remove your clothes."

And there went the almost decent advice.

"How about when you tell Arthur how you feel, I'll tell Antonio?" Lovino smiled sweetly, as if he hadn't just stamped all over the poor man's heart and left to clean his section so he could go home and scream for a few hours. It was a manly way of venting, thank you very much.

It was testament to his nerves that he had even been able to insult the man; usually he'd have run for Antonio if he so much as touched him while they were cooking. Still, he felt bad bringing up Arthur. He was one of the few who knew about Francis' little crush. Merda, he hated feeling bad for the frog, all it did was get him into extremely wrong positions with the man.

Like now, when Francis let his hands roam all over his body as he hugged him from behind.

"Why must you hurt me so, Lovi? Is it that you are jealous and simply want to experience my love for yourself? Just drop Antonio and all this will be yours."

Well, that killed his guilty feelings. Which made it perfectly moral to elbow him in the crotch and push his head into the sink, hoping that he could drown him in the dirty dish water. Sadly, he got up too quick and immediately left, complaining about his ruined hair the whole way. Lovino smiled to himself and quickly locked up, heading back to his doubtfully silent home.

~Pomodoro~

His house was silent, for once, when he finally arrived. Feliciano had apparently gone to the potato bastards house for dinner, which meant he could be expected home somewhere between midnight and six in the afternoon. Brilliant. He gets raped by French perverts and slowly goes mad waiting for Antonio while his brother shacks up with the damn kraut bastard. Just fucking brilliant.

Lovino dropped his coat on the floor, not caring about the water that would be seeping into his carpet. Feliciano could clean up later, as punishment for going to Ludwig's house again. He broke a picture frame on his way to the kitchen, though it was an accident. He had picked it up to examine the picture, never having noticed it before, and just gripped it a bit too hard. He wondered when Feli had put it up. It was old and more-or-less unimportant in the grand scheme of his life. It was just himself and Antonio, just before Antonio had graduated. Antonio was smiling as always, a small hint of red in his cheeks as he wrapped his arm around Lovino's shoulders. Lovino was as red as the silly tomato pillow he was holding in the picture, a present for his 17th birthday from the Spaniard. He had made it himself, even going so far as to put a face on it and draw a little turtle on the leafy part. Lovino had pretended to hate it, but he still kept it hidden next to his bed.

Lovino sighed tiredly, ignoring the kitchen now in favor of going straight to bed. When had things gotten more complicated than simply saying 'I like you?' Now there had to be more than just simple feelings for anything to work. At least, that's what he thought. Maybe he was wrong. Feliciano seemed to be doing fine with Ludwig and he was sure the macho potato couldn't handle more than simple feelings, if he even had any. Arthur ran on complexities he didn't even want to think about, though Alfred…well, he couldn't really understand what Alfred was thinking half the time. Maybe it was just him. He needed to know that he was more than a simple crush, that they were going to last longer than a high school romance. He curled up under his covers - green, red and white, something Antonio had helped him find - and pulled the same pillow close to him. It was silly, a grown man hugging a pillow as if it could save his life, but it kept him happy and sometimes he couldn't sleep if he didn't at least have it in his immediate line of sight.

Slowly, very slowly, he managed to fall asleep, though still not escaping his thoughts of Antonio.

~Pomodoro~

Lovino was exhausted when he made his way into work the next day, the cold air doing nothing to help wake him up. All he could think about, and dream about, was Antonio. Every single little thing that could possibly happen between them. It had drove him to leave the deceptive comfort of his bed and cook enough food to feed an army. He may have mad all Antonio's favorites, but that was beside the point. The point was…well, that Antonio had taken over his mind and he couldn't do anything but sit and wait for it to end.

And now he had another wonderful day of watching the bastard prance around his restaurant while ignoring him like his life depended on it. Not to mention the wonders of Francis' ability to make him wish he could have hired Arthur without getting sued.

Heracles was waiting outside when he reached Italiano Vera, though he was sleeping against the window. He gently woke the man up, knowing it would happen at least three more times before he actually started to help set up. Honestly, he didn't really know why he had hired the man. He fell asleep while taking half his costumers' orders and frequently hid in a back room to nap when they weren't busy.

"Ah, mon lapin, how I missed you last night! I can tell by the look in your beautiful eyes that you were up all night thinking of me as well." Francis strolled over, still managing to move as if dancing even in all his layers. It wasn't nearly cold enough yet for him to need all that, but he gave up questioning Francis' clothing when the frog tried to strip for him. "Tell me, did you touch yourself? You have the air of someone who has recently been satisfied. Perhaps I can satisfy you better in per-"

A fist connected with his stomach as a hand made its way around Lovino's waist to undo his belt. Heracles stared blankly down at Francis as if he hadn't nearly killed the man.

Ah, yes, that was why. He always managed to keep Francis under control for him. Even though he never gave a better reason other than he was protecting someone else's property. He didn't like the thought that he was the property in question, but as long as Francis behaved, he didn't exactly mind either.

He let the two of them in, leaving Francis to regain his breath outside. Perhaps he would freeze to death and he could hire someone who wasn't a pervert for a change. As he made his way to the kitchen, Heracles stopped him with a small tap on the arm.

"I'll tell you when Antonio gets here," was all he said before he moved to the other side of the restaurant, probably to find a booth to lie down in.

Not bothering to wonder how the Greek knew he would be waiting, because he certainly had not been standing at the door for the last two days waiting for him, Lovino continued on to the kitchen to get started with the few things he actually had to do before opening.

It was an hour later that Lovino heard the tinkle of the bell that signaled the door had been opened - another of Antonio's ideas that he had stupidly listened to, the noise got so annoying sometimes. He pretended that he didn't stiffen at the sound, his stomach not tying itself in knots of dread. Francis saw his effort and chuckled, earning a pot thrown at his head. Moron.

Heracles came through the door, not saying anything more than "He remembered" before Lovino was out the door and throwing himself at Antonio.

He blamed it on his lack of sleep later, but he couldn't stop himself from jumping into his arms and knocking them both to the floor in his earnestness. He wanted to pretend they were entirely alone, at Antonio's apartment, and kiss him senseless. But a cough from Francis that escaped Antonio, who may have died of shock, brought him crashing to the reality that he was currently on the floor of his restaurant with the town's biggest pervert watching as if it were a free porno. Bastard.

He quickly pulled Antonio up, ignoring the fact that he was probably blushing like a school girl, and sent him to clean tables so they could open on time.

He kicked Francis as he walked by, smirking when he fell in pain again. That'd teach him to spy on other's private moments. Maybe.

Antonio seemed confused for the rest of the night, as if he didn't believe the person kissing him randomly was the Lovino he'd known his whole life. Admittedly, Lovino didn't really understand what he was doing either but he didn't want to stop; still, he chalked it up to his lack of sleep and figured he'd be back to normal once he got some rest. Though, by the look Antonio gave Francis as he left, he would probably not be sleeping in his own bed that night.

~Pomodoro~

"Oi, bastard, get down here already! We're gonna be late damn it!"

Alright, so they were already late, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he was going to miss the chance to ruin his brother's engagement party. Only because he was engaged to the stupid potato bastard. He had thought he'd knocked more sense into that little moron. He could be killing the German freak right now if it wasn't for his idiotic boyfriend taking his sweet time to get dressed. He'd even picked out the damn clothes for him.

He tapped his foot impatiently, ready to go up and get him when he practically fell down the stairs and did a ridiculous spin for him.

Che cazzo? the idiot had picked out the most mismatched and horrid outfit he had ever seen! A printed shirt - most likely from Alfred - a green vest, brown pants that were too short and blue socks made for a five-year-old.

"F-Fucking bastard! Are you trying to get killed?"

Antonio just smiled like the idiot he was, or acted like anyway, the bastard. Lovino could feel his face beginning to blush, he wanted to scream at the bastard.

"If you don't like it, Lovi, you can dress me yourself."

Dio, what was wrong with this bastard? They didn't have this kind of time! He had to go kill his brother's fiancé. But to dress him properly…he'd have to undress him…

"God damn it, Antonio, we can't miss this party. I have to keep Feli from marrying that bastard!"

"It'll only take a second Lovi. All I'm asking is for you to change me."

As if. They'd start out undressing and then Antonio would whisper something stupid and annoyingly sexy in Spanish and then they'd never get anywhere, except maybe the bed. Still…the last time had been…

"Fucking…" he was screwed, "Get your ass upstairs right now. I'll be right there."

Lovino glared as Antonio saluted him happily and started to ascend the stairs in a jaunty march. He felt his heart stop a second as the vest hit the floor. He really should call Feli first. Antonio's shirt hit the floor. Or it could wait until morning…

"Lovi, it's fine, really. We didn't mind much. And I'm sure you and Antonio had plenty of fun." Feli laughed at Lovino, ignoring his angered shrieks.

Fucking bastards had planned this, he just knew it.

Well, there you have it, Lovi's side of the story! It was supposed to be up sooner but I hated part of it when I first wrote it and changed so much it's not even funny. Plus it was hard keeping with a plot that was already fully developed, since I write the best when I just go along with whatever I think at the time. And to top it off, my computer, that I only got in March, decided it wanted to get a virus that wouldn't let me open anything! So I had to reset it and I lost a bunch of stuff here and there that I was positive I saved. That, and I have the attention span of a fish when typing so it took a few hours spread out over three days...

Also, can anyone believe that this was originally supposed to be a lemon? How does PWP turn into something like this?