Firstly, thank you for everyone who's already subscribed to this! I think I've worked out a rough plot in my head now, so without further ado, here is the next chapter.


It had been an average day. Lovino had finished his shift at work and was currently shrugging on his coat, uncomfortably hot from the heat of the kitchen and the sweat he had worked up. He waved a hand to his boss, who gave him a sharp nod in return. Lovino liked his boss, not that he'd ever admit it – the guy was strict, expecting orders to be carried out that left no room for improvisation. For Lovino, lazy by nature, the discipline worked surprisingly well, leaving no wiggle room for him. Of course, he moaned about it, but then again, he moaned about everything. Just so long as the customers in the dining room didn't hear Lovino's complaints, the boss let him say whatever he wanted.

Lovino stepped into the chilly air, shivering involuntarily. It was much colder than he had thought – that cold front the weatherman had been warning about for the last fortnight must have finally blown in. He shoved his hands into his pockets, trudging along the street that would lead back to his flat. Although it was dark, the streetlights were bright, and there was the constant noise of people nearby: Lovino could hear the laughter of the people at the nearby bar, probably drunk. He thought for a moment about flipping them off, as he did sometimes when he had suffered through a hard night of working with a forced smile on his face for the customers, than decided to leave them be this time. His job waiting tables hadn't been that hard tonight, since there had only been a few customers. Business always grew quiet during the winter months; people tended to want skiing during December, and there were no ski resorts down this far south.

Lovino heaved a sigh, glancing up at the sky. He could just make out a few stars above the glow of the streetlights – a clear night, no wonder it was so chilly. He heard some voices behind him growing louder and tensed slightly as he recognised a German accent among them. He had always disliked the Germans, and he wasn't entirely sure why. Of course, it didn't help that Feliciano was head-over-heels in love with one… He ignored the voices and continued walking, thinking bitterly of his brother. It had been a while since he had received a letter from him, maybe Feliciano had forgotten about him? Or in a better scenario, maybe Feli had come to his senses and was going through a complicated break-up? Lovino was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the arms snaking around his waist until he was jerked backwards into someone's tight embrace.

"I found you!" The person who was hugging him was speaking quickly in accented Italian, his voice high and excited as Lovino let out an ear-splitting yell, struggling frantically to get away. "Mi pequeña princesa!" The stranger continued, switching to another language Lovino recognised almost instantly – Spanish. Lovino had taken Spanish in high school, and he'd actually become pretty good at it, but he hadn't heard anyone speak it in years. And this stranger was calling Lovino his… his princess? Lovino's cheeks flared up and he gained control of himself, delivering a sharp jab into the ribs of the man holding him. Thankfully, it worked; the Spaniard gasped and instantly let go, staggering backwards as Lovino darted out of his grasp.

"T-that wasn't nice!" The Spaniard wheezed, massaging his chest as he recovered.

"I don't care if it was fucking nice or not, you bastard!" Lovino shot back, every sense on alert as adrenaline raced through his body. He stared at his assaulter for the first time, taken aback by his appearance – he was only a young man, maybe a few years older than Lovino.

The Spaniard glanced up at him, still rubbing his injured ribs as he straightened up. "But you just attacked me when I was trying to be friendly…!" He objected, gazing at the Italian with wide eyes. "It's not meant to be this way…" He added to himself in a lowered mutter.

For some reason, Lovino felt his already-flushed cheeks grow even redder under the other man's intense gaze. "What the fuck do you mean? You just freaking attacked me in the middle of the street!"

The other man looked horrified at the suggestion. "Ay, no, Romano! I didn't attack you, I was just –" He instant stopped talking, clasping a hand over his mouth before lowering it slowly. "Nevermind."

Lovino twitched. He had just been scared out of his mind after a complete stranger hugged him without warning, and now he was confused. "You must be mistaking me for someone else, bastard! My name's Lovino, not Ramano or Romano or whatever the hell you just said."

The Spaniard blinked. "L-Lovino…?" He tried it out, rolling the word in his mouth. "Not Romano?"

Lovino groaned heavily, brushing his coat down. "Yes, LOVI-no." He raised his eyebrows, checking what he had in his pockets – mobile, half-used tissue, ipod, wallet, keys. Maybe he could chuck the mobile at the guy if he came closer? Gouge him with the keys? Feeling slightly more protected, he added briskly "You've got the wrong Italian, so go back to wherever you're staying and don't DARE attack me again!"

The Spaniard was looking just as puzzled as Lovino felt. There was something unthreatening about that downcast look on his face – not that Lovino would fall for that, all the best bad guys could act. "But… Roma… Lovi!" He quickly corrected himself. "Don't you remember anything?"

Lovino raised his eyebrows. Well, this one was new. "Remember what, bastard?"

"Ay… you, me, all that we went through!" The man waved a hand between them both. "You don't remember me at all?"

"Of course I d-!" Lovino's words were cut off as the Spaniard darted forward and kissed him without warning, and for a moment the world stood still. Lovino was too stunned to do anything, and then the next thing he knew, he was kissing back, gripping the Spaniard's sleeves to hold him close, and then ohgod, was that his tongue against Lovino's lips…? Lovino quickly brought himself back to reality, shoving the other man away and punching him in the jaw. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?" He exploded, his face as red as a ripe tomato.

The Spaniard was wincing in pain, rubbing his jaw and stepping back quickly. "I-I just thought true love's kiss might work…!"

"Who the fuck are you even?" Lovino hissed, spitting at the ground before rubbing his mouth frantically. "Do you just assault EVERYONE who crosses your path? You fucking jerk!" He was breathing heavily now, still reeling in shock from the fact that this man had just kissed him. A man. Feliciano would be laughing so hard if he had seen that: his brother, the great womanizer, caught kissing a man in broad daylight… streetlamp-light, anyway.

"Antonio," the other man spoke up, interrupting Lovino's panicked thoughts. "Antonio Fernández Carriedo, mi princesa! I have been –"

"Don't fucking call me that!" Lovino snapped, gripping his phone in his pocket tightly and trying to force himself not to throw it at him. "I can understand Spanish, and I am not a damn princess, nor am I a girl!"

The Spaniard – Antonio – nodded at that, still wincing as he caressed his jaw. "You punch just like her, though…" He murmured, and to Lovino's disbelief he noticed the man was smiling slightly. "I guess you really don't remember… Gil tried to tell me, but I thought…!" He sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. "I'm moving into town, shall we start afresh tomorrow?"

Lovino stared. He just stared.

He was tired, he was hungry, he was still blushing madly from embarrassment and rage, and this man who had assaulted him and caused all these problems wanted to meet him tomorrow. Was this Antonio for real, or was someone playing a really stupid joke on him?

"I don't care if I NEVER see your ugly face again, jerk!" He snapped, turning on his heel and stomping off back in the direction of his flat. He heard no footsteps behind him, but didn't stop until he was a good few streets away before he finally stopped, quickly checking behind him in case he was being followed. To his relief, there was no sign of anyone except a stray cat.

"Thank god…" He muttered, heading for his flat. He ran the tip of his tongue over his lips as he headed up to the door and let himself in, wincing slightly at the taste on his lips – a sweet, warm, spiced taste that definitely hadn't been there before his encounter with that insane Spaniard.

And even though he brushed his teeth nonstop for nearly half an hour, he could still taste it on his mouth as he lay in bed, trying to get Antonio's face out of his mind as he slowly fell asleep.