A Painful Confession
Lovino sipped his wine slowly as he waited for his food to arrive. Not desiring to eat any exotic French cuisine after another long day of the tedious World Meeting in Paris, the Italian had been fortunate to find a place that served pizza. This small restaurant was tucked into a quiet corner of the city and a sign in the window boasted that it had the best food in Paris. Dammit, this food had better be good. The vino was buonno and there was that perfect silencio...now all that was missing was the buonno pizza. The Italian took another sip of his wine and glanced at his surroundings. The interior was that of any food place common to France, but it held a cozy charm.
Alas, Lovino was not to get the quiet meal that he wanted. Unwittingly, Arthur and Francis entered the restaurant, bickering like always. Lovino slammed his head down on the table, grateful that a large plant shielded him from the view of others. Of course, however, the bastards were seated at a table just on the other side of the plant. Lovino took a long gulp of his wine. Perhaps he could get a buzz just strong enough to lessen the effects of Arthur and Francis.
"Mon amour, I recommend zhat you try zhis," Francis purred.
"Non, le grenouille stupide! Je ne prends pas! Humph!"
Lovino rolled his eyes as he hiccuped softly. By now, the Italian was starting on his second bottle of wine. As much as it annoyed him, he was also mildly amused by the conversation he was overhearing. Who would have ever thought that the tea-bastard spoke French when alone with the wine-bastard.
"Monsieur?" a voice interrupted Lovino's thoughts, "Voila, vous cuisine est ici." Lovino gave the beautiful young woman a half-smile, nodding his approval as she placed his long-awaited pizza upon the table.
"Grazie," Lovino grunted as he watched the waitress walk away. Once she had left, Lovino knelt his head for a moment and silently mouthed a prayer, then picked up his first slice of pizza. Taking a bite, the Italian closed his eyes in appreciation. The pizza, a beautiful circle of cheese topped with sweet, ripe tomatoes tasted as good as it looked and smelled. For something that did not come from Italy, anyways.
"Batarde, ouvrir toi bouche," Arthur commanded as he held up a fork with a small chunk of food at its end, "Since you are making me eat this food, you have to have some too."
"Pour quoi, parce que tu dit?" Francis stated with a smirk, opening his mouth despite his cheekiness. After a moment's silence, the Frenchman nodded his approval. "Ah, je l'aime, mais je t'aime plus que ce cuisine."
Lovino rolled his eyes for what felt like the millionth that time that evening. Dammit, were those bastards always so sappy? Shaking his head, Lovino began to eat his sixth slice of pizza. He nearly choked at the exchange he next heard, correctly guessing at what had happened.
"Arret, le grenouille stupide! Mon Dieu, tu est un batarde!" Arthur cried out as he slapped Francis across the face. "How dare you kiss me like that!"
"Ohonhonhonhon! But I know you like it," Francis countered with a smirk.
From his vantage point, Lovino saw Arthur turn red and sputter something that Francis laugh even more. "Ohonhonhonhonhon! Mon amie, we should go back to my place and continue zhis lovely tete-a-tete."
As Lovino finished his pizza, Francis and Arthur paid their bill and walked out the door into the cold, snowy night. Naturally, they were bickering despite the fact that their hands were entwined. Watching the two leave like that made Lovino's heart ache in some weird manner, magnifying the ache that had been present all night long tenfold. Despite the bastards crashing the restaurant, the meal had been very nice. Nonetheless, the Italian was still hungry, empty somehow. He looked up sharply, his gaze moving from the table to the wall, as he suddenly realized what he was missing. Frantically, the Italian summoned a waiter so that he could pay his bill and attend to his next task.
Slowly, Lovino slogged through the slush and falling snow in the bitterly cold night. Lovino hated the cold. He longed to be back in Italy, or even Spain, where there were at least a few places that were not as cold. Hell, he longed to be with Antonio. Anywhere with thatbastard was warm. Lovino had decided: Tonight, he was going to tell Antonio how he felt. He had longed to confess his true feelings to the Spaniard for some time now, but Lovino was always so afraid. He could not bear the thought of Spain rejecting him.
Lovino sighed and scuffed his booted toe along the pavement, shoving his hands in his pockets as he continued to walk. He could have taken a cab, but the Italian needed this time to think, to gather his courage for what he was about to do. All of his thought were focused on Antonio. Through the years, Antonio had always been there for him when he needed someone. Furthermore, Antonio had never given up on Lovino, even when others had.
The Italian wiped his clammy palms on his pants and rapped on Antonio's door at the hotel. As he waited for a response, Lovino's heart rammed his chest and his breath was heavy. Should he do this? Was this wrong? What if he said no? What if he said yes?
Lovino nearly bolted when Antonio opened the door and gazed upon him with those shining olive orbs and that sweet smile. Fortunately, Antonio managed to ensnare Lovino with his words. "Mi tomate rojo? Antonio inquired, pleasantly surprised. "Buenas noches! Que pasa?" Lovino looked so...scared, distraught. Antonio tilted his head with concern.
"B-b-bastardo, An-antonio, y-you t-tomato b-bastard, dammit, dammit, TI AMO!," Lovino finally spit out. He turned his head to the side quickly, not wanting to see the look of rejection he was so sure that would be upon Antonio's face.
Instead, Antonio placed a finger under Lovino's chin, turning the Italian's head so that two pairs of olive eyes met. "Es verdad?" Spain whispered with a chuckle. "Te amo tambien. Entre a mi cuarto!" he chirped, steering a very surprised Lovino into the room. The door closed softly behind them.
Translations:
*Non, le grenouille stupide! Je ne prends pas!: No, you stupid frog! I don't want this!
*Voila, vous cuisine est ici.: Your food is here.
*Batarde, ouvrir toi bouche.: Bastard, open your mouth.
*Pour quoi, parce que tu dit?: Why, because you say so?
*Ah, je l'aime, mais je t'aime plus que ce cuisine.: I love this, but I love you more than this food.
*Arret, le grenouille stupide! Mon Dieu, tu est un batarde!: Stop, stupid frog! [Heavens], you are a bastard!
*Te amo tambien. Entre a mi cuarto!: I love you too. Come into my room!