This is Not Love
Pairings: Framano/Romance - France x Romano/South Italy Romano/South Italy France
Notes: This is the first time I've ever written something in one sitting. It's a bit rough perhaps, because I only went over it once after writing. I didn't want to over analyze it this time, I wanted it to just be how it is. Hopefully, someone will enjoy it. And yes, there is a lot of cheese in this.
In the public view, it appeared that Romano hated Francis, and the Frenchman could hardly careless. If one were to ask the Italian man what he thought of him, he'd scoff and roll his eyes muttering some obscenity about him. If one were to question their friends on their relationship, they would say that they could function enough to be in the other's presence, but the room quickly filled with tension and their loud bickering.
Nobody but Francis, Lovino or the young lady who prepared their coffee every time could tell you that they enjoyed sharing the occasional coffee together at their favorite coffee shop. Nobody could tell you that when they brushed past each other after World meetings, their skin suddenly felt as if it had been set on fire. Neither would dare tell you that on occasion they'd meet up at either's house or at a hotel, and they laid together, calling out the other's name in the midst of the rustic metallic groans of bed springs.
Francis' back would arch subtly, and Romano was sure that he was fucking Venus' child, for the Frenchman was a sight to see as he came. His voice sent shivers down his spine with his cheeks tinted in a rosy shade and his golden hair sprawled out like rays of sunshine. But the thought never lasted long, hardly a second as Romano would follow along with a groan, filling the hastily rolled on condom.
Like all other times, Romano stayed there for a few moments, his panting slowly returning to shallow breaths, and his cheeks slowly losing its reddish color only to return again once he again realized who was beside him. Like all other times, Romano pushed himself off the edge of the bed, ready to stand up and leave silently. But this time he was stopped by Francis' hand wound tightly around his wrist.
Romano glanced down at the Frenchman, and their eyes briefly met.
"Stay with me a bit longer, won't you?"
A twist to their relationship. The question made Romano's heart pound faster, and he wondered if Francis could hear it. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something he had wanted to say for a while now, but the words did not want to come.
"Francis listen, I…."
Just with that, Francis hope raised. He yearned for the words that he been seeking for so long. He needed to hear it from him, and at last it seemed his waiting would come to an end.
"I have to go. I promised to eat dinner with Feliciano tonight."
Crushed. Francis felt his heart return to its stone like state. He tightly smiled, and nodded as Romano dressed himself and returned to his own fragile life.
The second time, no words were exchanged when Romano walked into the bedroom. There was no back and forth flirty banter (mostly from Francis), and no threats being made (mostly from Romano). Instead, Romano simply pushed Francis down against the bed, and threw a condom wrapper onto his chest. Francis knew what he wanted this time, and welcomed the change, for that's what kept relationships interesting….whatever type of relationship one would call what they had.
Once Francis was in, and Romano was seated on his cock, his legs on either side of Francis', they moved together in rhythm would start out as calling beautiful, but soon became nothing more than who could push the other man over first. There had been no preparation on Romano's part, save for making sure Francis' cock and his asshole was sufficiently lubed up. There was no need, when you were being penetrated enough during the week, because it wasn't as if Romano only enjoyed this intimacy with Francis. That would suggest that they were together in a way more than the casual sex they had. Romano was sure it was the same with Francis.
While Romano enjoyed giving as much as he did receiving, he would have to admit (to himself of course), that he didn't enjoy the receiving as much with anyone else, as he did when he was with Francis. Francis knew just what to do, even with Romano riding him, to make the Italian lose all control. He was by far not a lazy partner, as he had the experience with a certain American who thought that being ridden meant there was nothing left for him to do. No. Francis was a sex god among men…nations. And every sensual movement of his hips, every touch of his hands made Romano call out his name louder.
Once it was over, and all that was left was their heavy breathing, Romano turned over to the side of Francis, laying on his back. He said nothing to him, but fell asleep quickly, his shoulders brushing against the Frenchman's bare skin.
Francis turned over on his side, and rested his arm across Romano's body. He wanted to hold him close. This was the first time Romano had ever stayed the night, and he was afraid he'd go away if he let go. It might seem funny that it was Francis, the one scared of losing this bet with himself. The man who everyone assumed was confident, especially when it came to passions of love. But one can only be so confident, if the person they want most feels the same.
He pressed his lips against Romano's neck, and whispered softly in his forbidden language that he loved him.
In the morning, Romano was gone. It would have helped Francis' aching heart to know Romano kissed him goodbye and whispered the same words he had the night before..
The third time, they made love. At least, that's what someone would have called if they had been perversely watching from the bedroom window. It felt different to them both, and they knew something was changing, but neither could say it. They hardly kissed during their escapades, but this time neither Francis, nor Romano could get enough of the other's lips. Their movements were slow and almost loving, and Francis found that wrapping his arms around Romano's neck was good for holding him even closer. Not that it was needed, Romano was busy seeking solace in the crook of Francis neck where he would have whispered softly to him in sweet Italian words of affection if he did love Francis. But he didn't…At least that's what he tried to keep convincing himself.
That night, Romano stayed there beside Francis, their legs intertwined like lovers.
The next morning, Francis woke up to the smell of food cooking from his kitchen. He pulled a robe over his arms, and followed the delicious smell to Romano, stirring something over the stove. Francis was shocked to say the least, but he would not complain. Instead, he padded his way into the kitchen and brewed them both coffee.
Conversation was kept to a minimum during breakfast. Neither of them said much, in fact the loudest being in the room was Francis cat, meowing around their feet. The silence kept for a while, but it didn't last.
"Francis…listen here. There's something I've been needing to say." Romano started, staring intently at the eggs on the corner of his plate.
Francis glanced up, a smile gracing his face. "Well come out with it. There's no need for you to be shy, not after hearing your voice so beautifully last night."
Romano flushed, and he had half the mind to throw his fork directly between those bright blue eyes. "Shut up! You're making this more difficult."
"My apologies…please continue."
Glancing up at him with a slight scowl, Romano slowly pushed the food around on his plate with his fork, the words again getting caught in his throat. "I think…" No, that was wrong. He was beyond thinking. He knew, and he knew that lying to himself was making him more miserable. He just had to have that courage to tell them both the truth.
"I love you…" He mumbled, not daring to look up in fear of betraying every emotion going on inside him.
Francis choked, and his hand flew to his mouth as he tried to regain composure. His face was beet red, and he quickly excused himself before rushing to his bathroom. He closed himself in, and gripped the sides of the sink as he tried to calm his beating heart. It couldn't be. He had waited so long for someone to feel what he felt about them. He had waited so long for Romano himself. And now his dreams were finally being fulfilled. Francis covered his face with his hands, trying to will tears away. He knew he was being melodramatic, but how could one blame him? Just because he was the 'country of love', was known for his flirtatious ways, and gave love advice as if it was candy, did not mean that the love he needed had always found its way to him. Not like this.
Meanwhile, Romano was feeling anxious about his sudden confession. It made no sense that Francis had gotten up and left the room so quickly. The thought that maybe his feelings weren't actually received and reciprocated in the same light made him feel silly and foolish. He should have kept quiet. He should have let things continue as they were, instead of facing rejection. After several minutes, and no return of Francis, he knew that the man must not have felt the same way, and was being too nice to actually tell him.
He would have rather had him just tell the truth. Romano got up from the table, gathered his things and quickly exited the home, slamming the door shut behind him. He would never be able to face Francis again.
Moments later, Francis came out of the bathroom to find two empty chairs where he and Romano should have been sitting.
A week went by, and Francis heard nothing from Romano, even after he tried calling asking to talk. He didn't understand. He had thought that it was finally his turn to find that love he had been searching for. Yet Romano ignored him, afraid for the words of reject he knew were bound to come. Why else would Francis still flirt and flounce like some glittery asshole with the other nations.
It wasn't until another few days, when Francis wandered over to their favorite coffee shop that he saw Romano again. He had noticed the deep scowl on the man's face, from the moment he walked into the small building.
He didn't dare breathe a word as he sat down, seeing Romano visibly tense as he glanced up.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing. You are in my country."
"You can't actually blame me….what is that they say? Solo Parigi è degna di Roma; solo Roma è degna di Parigi." Romano muttered under his breath, his cheeks lightly reddening. "I can't help but gravitate here."
Francis nodded in a small smile. "Ah yes…Only Paris is worthy of Rome; only Rome is worthy of Paris. That is why they are sister cities. Even closer than the many partner cities they have. It's a special, beautiful bond that the capital of our countries share, is it not?"
Romano nodded slowly, staring down into his coffee. "Yeah, but you don't feel like that."
"How could you even say that? You were the one that ran off after breakfast!" Francis scoffed, "I came back to find you gone. Like always, you always run! Every night you left me alone. How could you say that I don't feel like that? And you tell me…you love me, and yet you were the one to run off! Are you trying to make a fool of me?"
Looking up, Romano's scowl deepened and his dark brows knitted together in irritation. "What the fuck are you talking about? You… You just up and leave after I finally confess to you! How do you think I felt?" He looked away, scared that he'd lose control of his voice. "It's obvious you didn't feel the same. You just couldn't fucking man up and tell me!"
Francis fell quite, and his heart sunk to his stomach. Was that really it? Did Romano think he didn't feel the same way? He laughed. The laughter simply bubbled from his mouth, and he could not contain it. Romano looked over at him, glaring intensely.
"I'm glad you think this is funny…" He picked up his things, and shoved the chair under the table. "Just go fuck yourself. Go keep playing around with everyone's hearts like you always do." He mumbled, ready to walk away for good. But Francis was quick enough, able to calm himself for a moment to latch onto his wrist and keep him there.
"Romano…. I'm laughing because we've both been idiots." He held him his arms, gently running his hands up and down them as his own set of nervousness set in. "I've loved you for a very long time."
It soon becomes obvious to everyone, that there is something more between them.