A/N: So this story is all about a Spamano wedding while Lovi has a disease. The comics just gave him "chorea" though my googling tells me that chorea is a symptom to something bigger. Be warned, descriptions of his disease probably won't be 100% accurate. And I'm giving him Chorea, as if it were the entire problem rather than the symptom of something else. Lovino just has Chorea, like the comics.

Chapter 1

Your Eyes

The twitch that rattled Lovino's arm was unexpected and unwarranted. The best idea was to ignore it, though that grew increasingly harder as the twitch continued and became more violent as his muscles jerked his arm about.

Needless to say it was a horrifying experience to lose control of a limb so suddenly and profoundly. Once it passed he tried to forget about it and write it off as a one-time occurrence, though he soon learned that that wasn't the case.

It became a concern when it happened during the heat of the moment on Friday night. Antonio had him pinned to the bed and was kissing his jaw, stopping to suck on his neck, eliciting groans from the smaller man. They were naked already and getting themselves heated up for action. Between groans Lovino would run his hands up his lover's sides, knowing how much Antonio loved it, stopping at the hips. Those same hips moved down and Antonio rubbed his hardening erection against Lovino's, both stopping momentarily to moan. Lovino rotated his hips back and his breath stilled every time their heads touched and rubbed together.

It was becoming so hot and frustrating and Lovino wanted release now. Antonio leaned down to kiss him again when Lovi stopped him, wanting to demand they stop the foreplay and get to business. Instead, nothing came out but a surprised "Chigi!" when his arm dropped from Antonio's hip and began to spasm against the bed sheets.

"Lovi, what are you doing?"

Lovino, instead of answering, tilted his head and watched as his arm jerked on its own and barely responded when he tried to still it. He tensed his muscles and even relaxed them but nothing quelled the irritable movements.

That was when Antonio grew concerned, finally understanding Lovino wasn't doing this on purpose. He reached forward, placing his hands on Lovi's cheeks and preventing him from looking at his arm.

"Lovi, what's wrong?"

"It—it won't stop," he sobbed, accepting the growing terror that coiled up and replaced the previous heat in his stomach. "I can't stop it."

The Spaniard's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you having a seizure?"

"Does it look like I'm having a fucking seizure?!"

"A little, I don't know!"

They didn't know what to do and it scared them more than the actual spasms. It slowly died down and stopped, prompting Lovino to retract his arm and hold it against his bare chest, cradling it as if he was afraid it would move again if he didn't.

The mood was ruined and neither wanted to continue their previous foreplay, instead opting to lay down together. Antonio held Lovino close, trying to soothe the scared man. He murmured Spanish nothings into his hair and made a mental note to himself to schedule an appointment with a doctor.

The next morning Lovino woke up and cautiously glanced at his arm, willing it to stay still and stop the random jerking nonsense it seemed to like doing. He was a stubborn man but even he didn't protest when Antonio announced they would visit the doctor that day. In all honestly he was scared and a doctor might fix it, despite how much he hated doctors.

They got dressed in decent clothes and got in the car for their drive into town and to the doctor's office. Lovino hated sitting in the waiting room and smelling all the alcohol and cleaning supplies. He didn't quite understand why they were at the regular doctor, who they only really saw for mandatory physicals from work or for when they were sick and needed prescriptions. This felt serious to Lovino, and he kind of wanted to go to a hospital.

And so the doctor finally called him back and Antonio came with him, knowing how nervous he got around doctors. Lovino felt embarrassed when he had to sit up on the table with the crinkly paper and have some old man basically feel him up as he took his pulse and stuck his hands and cold stethoscope up his shirt to listen to his heart and breathing.

He was here for his arm spasms, why the fuck did this old man need to test his knee's reflexes and look into his eyes with that blinding flashlight?!

He wasn't the least bit surprised when the doctor couldn't tell him what was wrong and instead referred him to some specialist. At the hospital. The place Lovino wanted to go to to begin with.

So they got in the car and drove to the hospital next, where they had to wait an eternity in the waiting rooms before a nurse finally took them in to a room, much like at the doctor's office. The embarrassment started all over again when he had blood drawn, another set of cold hands and metal objects under his shirt, and more lights shown into his eyes and things hitting his knees. The worst part was when the nurse handed him a cup and told him where the bathroom was.

Fuck tests. Fuck tests and everything about them.

Then there was more waiting. Lovino was sitting anxiously on the raised table and Antonio jumped up with him, holding his hand in a soothing manner. They finally saw a doctor, who apologized for it being such a busy day.

Lovino will never forget when he said he couldn't tell him just what was wrong with him yet. The disappointment filled him for the second time that day and the worry remained.

He also would never forget he next thing the doctor told him.

"Based on your symptoms you could have a number of genetic or neurological disorders."

"Like what?" Lovino urged, wanting at least some semblance of a name to give to his movement issues.

"Your spasms could be a symptom of Wilson's disease, Neuroacanthocytosis, Huntington's disease… it goes on, but those would be most likely."

Antonio turned his head and stared at the wall. "Did… did you say Huntington's?"

The doctor nodded and he went silent. The man promised to call them once the results got in from the tests and labs and they nodded back before leaving the hospital.

Lovino cried when they got to the car.

What was worse was when Antonio cried with him. They were both scared and worried that now that their life was beginning it was already ending simultaneously. It wasn't fair in any aspect for either of them; Lovino already had to deal with his shitty family growing up and Antonio didn't have any left. All he had was the memory of his aunt as she lost her motor control and died of Huntington's when he was sixteen. Antonio wanted nothing more than for Lovino to never have to live through that, and he didn't know if he could do it himself.

The tears dried sometime later and they took a somber drive back home. Lovino knew better than to try googling his possible conditions, knowing it would only upset him more… but he already knew about Huntington's disease from Antonio's stories of his aunt. He knew how bad it got and how you slowly lost yourself. He didn't want to be imprisoned like that.

When they arrived home they laid together in bed, not talking and hardly moving. They just laid together in their shared warmth, wanting to get the call already and know what was wrong. And, in the back of his mind, Lovino wanted to know how much time he had left.

It was hard to answer the phone when Feliciano called, but Lovino couldn't just ignore his brother. The guilt of the last few years still nagged at him and he had yet to believe he repented for the hell he accidentally put on him.

"Hello, Feliciano… No, nothing's wrong, I was just taking a siesta when you called. No, it's fine, talk."

As he talked with his brother Antonio just watched, noticing the small twitches and looks of worry on Lovino's face and he couldn't help but wonder if the small movements were Lovino's anxiety or the mystery disease. The Italian's face fell and he sputtered more excuses about being tired into his phone, obviously being questioned by his (worried) brother.

"Look, Feli, I've got to go—Antonio needs my help. No, I'm not lying! Go play with that stupid cat or the stupid potato bastard! Ciao, fratello."

He set his phone aside and breathed into his palms. Antonio scooted closer to him and held him loosely, knowing Lovino could get pretty testy about affection and it was always a hit-or-miss idea.

"I just lied to my sweet little fratello," he said numbly into Antonio's shoulder. "I could be dying."

"No, you're not," his fiancé said sternly. His voice faltered before uttering, "You can't."

"Goddamn it, Antonio, don't make me cry again."

They remained on the bed until Lovino demanded they shower because all this grease may be fine for Antonio but he was not about to walk around filthier than that damn Gilbert. While Lovino bathed, Antonio went to the kitchen to find them some dinner (though he would have preferred to be with his cute Italian fiancé, who was being difficult again and denied him shower fun).

There was little edible food so he opted to call for pizza instead. Knowing Lovino's disdain for unauthentic pizza, he searched for the alcohol they always kept for when the mood strikes them. Antonio pulled a bottle of cheap grocery store wine from the back of a cabinet and took two glasses with him to the bathroom door. He didn't even bother knocking before he stepped in and sat next to the tub. Lovino didn't seem to mind his presence and silently held his hand out to take the glass he was offered.

They sat together, with Antonio getting a bit wet each time Lovino moved his arm with the extended glass from the tub to signal more wine.

"I'm going to die and leave Feli alone again," Lovino said with half-lidded eyes and a dead tone. He took another drink before continuing, "And I can't have an open casket funeral because my corpse will try to punch someone."

Antonio choked on his wine and tried to suppress the mental image of him crying at a casket while someone (probably Ludwig) tried to say his goodbyes only to be punched by the cold, rigor mortis fist of Lovino.

"I said you're not going to die!" he reprimanded, wiping his chin with his sleeve. Sadly for Antonio, he lost his filter when tipsy and they were almost out of wine. He quietly mumbled, "If it's Huntington's you wouldn't be able to move…"

Lovino stared at him, incredulous, cheeks reddened by the alcohol. "Bitch, I'll haunt my corpse just to punch that look off your fucking face."

"Can you possess yourself?"

"I don't see why not. I'm dead, I might as well have some fun."

"Like Casper?"

"No, that fuck was a pussy. I'm going to be Lovino: The Unfriendly Ghost."

The Italian held his glass out again, sloshing water and soap onto the floor. A small frown graced Antonio's face when the wine stopped mid-pour. "I guess that's it."

Lovino drank the last of the wine with a triumphant look and nearly dropped the glass when the doorbell rang. "What the fuck was that?!"

"Oh, I forgot I ordered pizza."

"Bastardized American pizza? I knew you got me drunk for a reason!"

Antonio stood and stopped before leaving the bathroom. "Are you drunk?"

Lovino stood from the tub, dripping water and soap everywhere as he followed Antonio, completely naked, to the front door. He held up his glass when there was about a teaspoon of wine left. He eyed his fiancé and said lowly, "No, but this oughta do it," before drinking the small amount. Antonio laughed at the ridiculousness.

They answered the door and the teenaged delivery boy flushed as he handed the Spaniard the pizza and accepted the payment. Antonio couldn't figure out why he was in such a rush to leave until he turned around to see his drunk, naked future husband just chilling on the couch.

"Look, Toni," he slurred. "We're just as trashy as that Alfred kid Feli bitches about."

All Antonio could think of in that moment was How am I drunk enough to forget this sexy man was right there?

…

Oh lord, that poor pizza delivery boy.

The time to worry about that teenager's innocence quickly ran out when Antonio set the pizza down and looked up at Lovino, who simply stared him straight in the eyes while he slowly opened his legs.

"Toni, be a dear and dry me off. I'm sick, I can't do it myself."

"Where do you need help?"

Lovino pointed a slender finger to his crotch with a straight face. "That should do it."

The two had been worried all day about getting the test results, which Antonio was aware of even in his lack of sobriety. He couldn't necessarily say he was drunk, though the wine bottle was huge and they did drink it quickly and skipped lunch. He decided to ignore the worry in his mind in lieu of sharing another moment with his lover, who was drunk enough to forget his worry and just want a drunken, sloppy fuck.

A/N: Chapter titles based on songs again, this time the songs will make up their wedding playlist! Titles won't necessarily by the full song name.

I reread this and I can't believe there's a ghost joke. What's wrong with me. I wrote the first few chapters of this before a certain other story. Why.

Brownie points for anyone who caught the Blades of Glory reference. "Are you drunk?" "No, but this oughta do it." Get your head on.

Help a brother out! If anyone has ideas for songs for the wedding playlist, say it. I've never been to a wedding and it would help.

"Open Your Eyes" by Snow Patrol

All this feels strange and untrue

And I won't waste a minute without you