Anonymous said: A prompt of 'bizarre family traditions' and Prumano?

This idea had seemed a lot funnier last night when they were drunk. Now, facing the busy quad, Gilbert's knees shook. He crossed his arms, shifted his weight from foot to foot. Lovino was walking toward him.

"You're not fucking with me?" Gilbert asked as soon as he neared.

Lovino looked down at his robe, then back up at Gilbert. "Does it seem like I'm fucking with you?"

Gilbert didn't answer. It was still chilly this early in the year, and Gilbert rubbed his arm. His stomach twisted as Lovino adjusted the belt of his robe. This wasn't happening. This was happening to someone other than Gilbert.

Lovino put his backpack on the ground, and Gilbert took a quick step back.

"Lovino—"

"I swear to God." Lovino crouched down on the ground, glanced up. "If you back out of this now, after last night, I will skin you."

"It—It just doesn't make sense! Like, I've never even…" Gilbert blinked at the masks Lovino pulled out. "Okay, I'm not wearing those."

"You're the one who said he wanted to do this."

"But… But it's a creepy goat mask."

"Lamb," Lovino corrected, handing him the mask. "It's a creepy lamb mask."

"Oh, you're right, that makes it all so much better." Gilbert blew into his hands. "But I guess it's good, because then people can't see our faces." His stomach did another painful roll. "Are we really doing this?"

Lovino put the mask on and looked at him. It was really fucking creepy.

"Aw, man." Gilbert put the mask on. His breath blew back into his face, loud in his ears. The world narrowed into two, tiny holes. "Aw, man. No. No. Let's fucking do this."

They stood there, a few people giving them strange looks as they stood there in their bathrobes and masks. Lovino looked at him, waited for him, because he would run naked through the college, but not alone.

Gilbert wanted to cry as he ripped off his robe and pelted down the campus. His sneakers—the only other part of his body covered—slapped against the concrete. It was cold. It was cold running through the February air. It was cold running through the cheers and wolf-whistles.

A thought hit him as he passed his favorite lecture hall—

Lovino better be fucking following him.

Gilbert looked to either side of him, and it took him a few tries before he saw Lovino jogging next to him. Fucking track star, while Gilbert was already out of breath. He didn't have the cardio for this nonsense. Then Gilbert noticed Lovino was holding is robe under his arm.

Gilbert looked forward and focused on running.

This was fine. It wasn't the first time Gilbert had been naked.

A security guard lumbered into view, and Gilbert panicked. He grabbed Lovino's wrist and yanked him off the pathway and through the campus lawn. The guard yelled after them, but they were already a field away.

How long were they even supposed to run for?

"Did you not bring your bathrobe?" Lovino asked, voice even.

"I—" Gilbert was not having such an easy time responding. "Didn't… think… of it," he panted.

"What the fuck. We have to circle back and grab it."

Well, shit, that made sense. Gilbert's chest was aching, and his legs were cramping. He had a stich in his side.

"Let's… just… go to… your dorm."

"I'm not having you run naked through my dorm."

"I'm… dying."

Lovino glared at him. "You're literally the worst person ever to do this with. Take this next right, and the room's right there." Gilbert missed the next bit, because the mask muffled Lovino's voice, and blood was roaring in his ears, and he was dying.

...

"Off the couch."

Gilbert looked over, still trying to catch his breath. "What?"

"Get your nasty, bare ass off my couch." Lovino grinned. "I can't believe you agreed to do that."

"I still don't believe that you did that." Gilbert fell to the floor, making sure the towel covered everything important.

"Every February." Lovino had changed into his jeans. "My grandfather—he ran with this really weird group of people. Feliciano and I didn't even think of it. It was fun, you know? Running naked at dark. We'd get something warm to drink, after."

"No one called the cops?"

"Would you?"

The smile hadn't dropped from Lovino's face, and Gilbert found himself grinning back like an idiot.

Lupercalia:

A Roman holiday from February 13-15. A lamb would be sacrificed. Then, men would get naked, wear some slaughtered sheep skin, and run through the streets. Women hoping to get pregnant would stand out in the streets and get whipped by the naked men.

Romans were weirdos.