I'd like to make a note for people who may not know- Sign language, no matter the country of origin, is a completely different language. The grammar is very different, but I'll be typing it out in regular English for easier reading. In asl there aren't really any helping verbs, and the verb 'to be' is rarely, if ever used. That is why Antonio spells these out when he knows all the following signs. He's not got a handle on the words enough to worry about the grammar.

Also, nothing really happens, aside from establishing things and filler stuff but hey! Smut!

'Bastard, pay attention. Watch my hands.'

Lovino was by no means ever meant to be a teacher, but he was trying his best to fix the atrocious signing that he was exposed to every weekend. Very carefully he began to sign out of the alphabet, putting a special emphasis on his fingers to make them rigidly point and fold in the proper direction like he was taught back in school.

This was all for his benefit, really. Antonio got nothing out of the deal but a better grasp on asl, and Lovino was probably the only person he'd ever use it with. Lovino was the one who got to have those vibrant eyes watching him so diligently through his lesson.

No, the bastard wasn't getting anything remotely rewarding out of the experience, especially when Lovino started to refuse to fingerspell unless there was no other way for Antonio to understand. He'd slowed down and emphasized more of the words with his face- something that was mortifying to him- solely for Antonio's benefit.

He was still nothing compared to his brother, however, or most of the deaf community. Hell, what he made an effort to do while trying to teach Antonio wasn't even as much as most did on a daily basis. Most would have gotten frustrated with Lovino's technique within the first few minutes.

But not Antonio.

The point of believing Antonio was doing talking to Lovino for the novelty had long since passed. No one was so dedicated when they just wanted to be able to gloat about how they spoke with their hands, yet him and Antonio had been speaking for the better part of two months and Lovino was getting tired of deciphering Antonio's sloppy signing. The bastard had a way of changing exactly how he sucked so he could never quite get used to it.

Antonio began waving his hand around when Lovino got to pointing out the difference between an 'm' and an 'n'. Lovino stopped signing, though his hands still hovered in the air, and he raised a brow at the Spaniard.

'Lovino, I k-n-o-w t-h-e alphabet. I s-p-e-l-l a lot.'

Antonio looked so genuine. He always did. But Lovino didn't miss the frustration underneath that dopey smile this time; the tightness in the corners of his lips and the ends of his brow. Lovino's serious teacher face softened the smallest amount.

'And it's bad.' He replied, simply.

Lovino reached across the small round table they were sitting at- the one that had been deemed 'their table' by both Antonio and the late night baristas- to grab a tan, calloused hand. He pulled the thumb and pointer finger back out into the shape of an L and tucked the other three fingers tightly against the palm. Antonio's fingers moved easily into the proper sign without any resistance for which Lovino was grateful. If he was going to refer to Lovino, he was at least going to do it correctly without his pinky finger halfway extended in the sign for 'I love you'.

At the odd look that Antonio gave him, Lovino felt the need to clarify. He bent his hand into the proper L shape where only two of his fingers weren't clenched and he pointed to it with his other hand. In the air he drew a large, very obvious 'L'. Then he kept his thumb and pointer finger extended, but also lifted his pinky finger. He pointed to it just as he had the last one and fingerspelled 'I l-o-v-e y-o-u' with his non-dominant hand.

These meetings usually called for informal- and often times incorrect- sign language to communicate meanings. Lovino didn't mind in the slightest. Not when Antonio would watch him with such a concentrated expression. It was probably the only time Lovino saw the other man without a smile, as his lips turned down into a determined frown. It made him look serious and it gave Lovino a funny feeling in his stomach area.

Antonio's expression shifted, however, from that sexy concentrated expression into an odd, unreadable sort of one. Lips pursed, eyes narrowed; Lovino wasn't sure what to make of it.

It was gone quickly enough. The sunshine smile returned and he nodded his head enthusiastically. Then he very deliberately copied the first sign with- finally!- perfect form.

Lovino pumped his fists outwards in the most enthusiastic expression he knew. He thought he might have smiled too.

'So, are you ready to listen now?'

Antonio gave him a blank look. None of those particular signs were that intuitive, so Lovino began the painful process of trying to fingerspell them all since Antonio had decided that there would be no memo typing when they were in a "lesson".

And so continued their typical Friday night.

Lovino should have known it was inevitable, really, after they met the first two times that they would keep meeting like this. Apparently both he and Antonio had the same habit of showing up at Good Vibrations on Friday nights. Those nights were the wildest, completely perfect to become insignificant in.

Lovino went there to get lost amongst people that, if they knew him at all, only knew him by a reputation he had made for himself. But somehow, after that first meeting getting lost was how he found Antonio, and becoming insignificant made him that much more significant to the Spaniard.

Their eyes would meet from a different distance every time. Sometimes Lovino didn't notice him until he was right in front of him and usually touching him, and other times they were across the dance floor. Most of the time it was like some kind of sixth sense. He knew when Antonio was there, and Antonio seemed to know when he was there as well because they always ended up dancing with one another.

If Lovino knew anything about Antonio it was that he upheld his Spanish heritage. God, that man could move.

It wasn't always the same. Some nights they would leave together very shortly after finding one another, groping and scarring some poor taxi driver. Other nights they would hang out at the café until very very early in the morning when neither of them were coherent enough to keep up a decent conversation.

But they always danced.

Sometimes they danced quick and franticly, pushing and pulling and spinning, crashing into one another like a tidal wave to the shore. Other times they were more sensual, hardly ever pulling away from one another.

At first they only met on Fridays, then on Fridays and Saturdays, and then outside of the club entirely. They met up for lunch or went to the museum together, talking and making conversation more than touching, and that was just fine with Lovino. It was the most legitimate relationship- friendship or otherwise- he'd ever been in, and Antonio was even more serious about whatever this was. The man stuck to his word, and every week he got better and better at signing.

That's not to say his form improved at all, however. He may have known more signs, but he was just as sloppy about his finger placement and the directions- he really had to sit the bastard down and have a talk with him about this someday because sometimes the meanings were completely different than what Antonio intended to say. Lovino thought he was relatively good at deciphering meaning through the most heavily accenting signing, but sometimes Antonio was so completely off when he signed that Lovino had better luck reading his lips.

As Antonio got better at asl, and as their location became more intimate and casual their relationship only improved. Antonio learned about Lovino and his childhood- mostly Feliciano- and Lovino learned about Antonio's life back in Spain.

Lovino found he was in a better mood most of the time now that he had someone to talk to. His brother had even commented on it when he voluntarily called his brother. But even when he was sporting his usual bitchy attitude, Antonio was just as patient and understanding. They'd gotten close. Very close in such a relatively short time.

It was like Antonio understood him in a way Lovino didn't even understand himself. The bastard always seemed to know what to say, even when Lovino only insulted his signing or his grammar. He'd only smile his cute, infuriating little smile and wait it out until the Italian started feeling guilty for being such a dick.

What really scared him though, was that he actually cared when he thought he'd upset Antonio somehow. Lovino wasn't used to feeling this vulnerable without taking his clothes off.

It was safe to say that their relationship was going very, very well, but it got frustrating.

The more time the two spent together, the more comfortable Lovino was with showing the Spaniard physically just how much he meant to Lovino. It wasn't that he was new at this kind of thing. Not by any means, but actually knowing the person that was pinning him to the wall or the couch or wherever they ended up was more exciting, more intimate, and he never had to be afraid that they would try to whisper in his ear, or look at him oddly when he never cried out.

It was always a little bit different, just like when danced. It was rough, it was intimate, Antonio was in charge, then Lovino, but it was never enough.

Lovino had no idea what they were to one another.

Were they friends with benefits? Potential relationship partners? Boyfriends? Something else entirely?

But they never talked about it. Antonio never brought it up, so Lovino never mentioned it and the routines continued without any clarification.

Until one night.

Lovino was pressed up against his front door as Antonio ravaged his neck. He was nipping and sucking a large love mark into the sensitive skin there while his hands were trailing up and down his stomach towards a very sensitive area, and it made Lovino's hands shake too badly for him to be able to jam the key into the lock.

He gave up when Antonio pressed him up against the door completely, his hand trailing a path of fire down Lovino's arm to the keys clutched tightly in his hand. The Spaniard took them from his hand and while hardly looking, managed to unlock the door in the same amount of time it took for Lovino to regain his breath back.

Lovino pulled him into another kiss and steered Antonio into the apartment- the bastard as terrible at multitasking- before he shut the door himself and the light from the hallway was reduced to a tiny sliver underneath the door.

The first few times they had gone home with one another Antonio was adamant about keeping the lights on in some form or fashion, no matter how embarrassed it made Lovino. At first Lovino had thought that the Spaniard wanted to make it more intimate. He hadn't known if he was flattered or offended when he realized Antonio was doing it so they could still sign back and forth.

But when Lovino taught him his favorite way to communicate in the dark it had absolutely blown his mind, for whatever reason.

Antonio placed his hand on Lovino's shoulder before trailing it down to his wrist and back up to the soft skin behind his elbow. With a gentle touch he slowly, sensually began tracing letters onto Lovino's arm, marking up his neck all the while.

'Let me'

One last kiss was placed on his lips before Antonio went down on his knees. Lovino's hands, which had previously been on Antonio's back, fell uselessly to his sides as he felt his pants being undone and slid down his hips. His head was fuzzy, but it nothing compared to the aching in his stomach when Antonio's hand cupped the bulge in his pants.

His cock stood at attention once the barriers were removed and pooled around his feet. The room was dark, and from the moonlight streaming through the window Lovino could vaguely make out Antonio's shape as he knelt in front of him, his large hands holding him by the hips and keeping him pressed up against the wall.

Those hands began exploring, one of them trailing teasingly slowly to his erection and stroking it with butterfly motions; his grip so lax it was hardly any stimulation at all. His hand gained force and speed as time passed, and he started sucking little bruises on Lovino's hip bone just to make him squirm. He noticed when Antonio's mouth pulled away, but he was still pleasantly surprised when he felt a tongue drag itself across the head of his cock.

Antonio's eyes were practically glowing. A beam of light from the window landed in a perfect strip across his face so that Lovino could see his eyes and the desire and the lust swimming inside of them. In this lighting they looked large and dark, and incredibly enticing. Lovino was almost disappointed when they disappeared from view as Antonio took a few inches of Lovino into his mouth.

Almost.

Lovino's hands went from grasping uselessly at the air by his sides to gripping Antonio by the hair. The bastard was taking his time tonight, leaning back every so often to tease the slit or trace his tongue around the head or play with his balls. One harsh tug on the curly locks tangled into his fingers and Antonio went right back to business and Lovino's hips canted at the vibrations that followed.

The hand that had been resting on Lovino's hip to keep him in place began to move, trailing with feather-light touches from his hipbone to his lower back under the shirt, and back down towards his ass. While his mouth and his right hand were busy with Lovino's erection and his balls respectively, Antonio's left hand began to prod at his entrance.

Lovino's hands clenched to a degree that was surely painful for Antonio when he felt a finger slip into him dry and he used the skin just beneath Antonio's hairline to trace out a word.

'Lube'

Antonio seemed to get the picture, and he retracted both his finger and his mouth, much to Lovino's displeasure. The Spaniard placed a sweet little kiss on his hipbone, right where the skin was darkened just enough to tell it apart before he replaced his lips with a finger and traced his reply.

'In my room' He answered, giving the head of Lovino's cock another teasing flick of his tongue.

Lovino wasted no time replying and instead grabbed Antonio by the hair and hauled him back to his feet. The Spaniard stood clumsily, swaying a bit before he found his feet and began following Lovino further into his apartment towards his bedroom. For not being in his own house, Lovino knew how to get around in the dark impressively well. The thought sent little tingles through his head.

The trip to the bedroom might have been faster had they not stopped every few steps to lock lips again. Antonio had even taken the opportunity while they were in the threshold to give Lovino another hickey that he could complain about later.

They fell together in a heap on the bed once it was in reach, Lovino falling heavily onto Antonio and breaking their kiss. Laying on top of him Lovino could feel Antonio's chest heaving up and down as if he'd run a marathon. They were pressed together so completely that Lovino couldn't tell which heartbeat was whose.

Within that instant the atmosphere had changed. Antonio's hand come up to gently cup the side of Lovino's face and bring him down for another kiss. This one was slower but deeper than last. It was sweet and savory and made Lovino's chest feel like it was about to explode.

Since he was already lying on top of him and his arms still had nothing to do they set out on a little hands-on exploration. He knew Antonio's body well at this point. Weeks of falling into bed with one another lead to certain knowledge. But there was something different about it now. It felt more intimate than before, even though both of them were still almost fully clothed.

Antonio reached up to trail his hands underneath Lovino's shirt. They ghosted over his stomach and around his waist to massage little circles into his lower back. The sensation went right to the pit of his stomach and made his breath quicken.

He'd never quite understood how Antonio could do so much at once while they were tangled together in the sheets. Lovino had a hard time concentrating enough to kiss him properly, much less to do anything else. He would have thought himself the lesser lover had Antonio not told him otherwise over and over again.

His hands began to ghost a trail up towards his face again, taking Lovino's shirt with them. They had to break away from their kiss to get it over his head, and Lovino felt like losing that miniscule moment of contact was like losing a limb.

The moment was extended, however, when Lovino decided that it was about time Antonio lost his shirt as well. The feeling of their bare chests touching when he draped himself back over Antonio made it all worthwhile.

Rather than locking lips again, Lovino began to trail kisses down his jaw and to his neck. If Antonio was going to mark up Lovino's skin, it was only right to return the favor. Antonio tilted his head to make it easier as Lovino left wet kisses in his wake as he trailed to the juncture between his shoulder and his neck, and the rumble he felt beneath him when he sucked it between his teeth proved that he had found the right spot.

Antonio's hands were never still, and even now, as Lovino worked on creating a nice, big lovemark, Antonio's hands had found their way to Lovino's ass. When Lovino gave him a particularly hard nip, Antonio gave his cheeks a squeeze.

Lovino wiggled his hips a bit to better position himself and was granted with another low rumble as he rubbed against Antonio's clothed erection. One of the hands left his ass as he guessed Antonio was groping around for the lube. He must have found it again, because Lovino felt a slippery finger rubbing between his ass cheeks just a moment later.

The feeling made him break away from the abused spot on Antonio's neck with a jolt, and he grabbed at Antonio's shoulders when he felt the finger wiggle into him. For the first time since they entered the bedroom Lovino opened his eyes. The curtains on the window were wide open, leaving plenty of light for them to see by from the combination of the moon and street light that was right next to the window.

Antonio's pupils were blown wide, making his emerald eyes look large and endless. The swooping feeling Lovino felt when he made eye contact with him was new, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the way Antonio was looking at him, or the fact that he was looking in the first place. The expression on his face looked almost like he was in pain and it only gathered depth when he realized Lovino was looking at him too.

It made Lovino's stomach feel tight, and his heart felt like it was in his throat. So he distracted himself from it all by leaning down to kiss him again, their tongues tangling together in a known dance.

There was still only one finger inside of him, slowly stroking his walls and driving him insane. When Antonio finally added a second finger it only stoked the fire, making Lovino squirm against Antonio and rubbing his cock painfully against the large bulge in Antonio's jeans. It wasn't until Antonio added the third finger that he finally found Lovino's prostate, whether by accident or design he wasn't sure. The lightning bolts of pleasure made him break away from Antonio, his mouth open and his chest heaving as he arched upwards and pressed Antonio further into the bed.

Antonio granted him a few more moments of it before he gently pulled his fingers out and began to push Lovino up a little bit. Deciding to help out, Lovino use one arm to prop himself up as the other trailed down to the button on Antonio's pants. The jeans and boxers were quickly discarded, but Lovino didn't fall back down onto Antonio yet.

He snatched the lube from Antonio's hands, and awkwardly balanced as he squirted a generous amount onto his palm. He gripped Antonio gently as he covered him liberally in lube, stroking him slowly and purposefully. Eventually Antonio got tired of the teasing as he grabbed Lovino's wrist to get him to stop. He was pulled back down into another kiss as Antonio lined himself up and began to push himself inside, lifting his hips up off of the bed to do so.

Lovino slowly sunk down onto Antonio. He could feel himself stretching to accommodate the large cock, and the feeling was familiar and mind blowing all the same. There was a little pain, but it was ignored in favor of the boiling pleasure that was engulfing him.

They'd had sex before. Many times, in fact, but there was something different about tonight. It was the same kind of different that he'd felt when they were pressed together on the bed, and the same kind of different that he'd seen in Antonio's expression. Everything felt hotter and more intimate, and as Antonio sheathed himself completely inside of Lovino it increased tenfold.

Nothing had changed in the past week that Lovino knew of, yet he felt more complete now than he could ever remember being.

After a moment of remaining pressed together Antonio began to move, pulling himself out just slightly before pressing back inside. It was slow, and it could be partly because of the position they were in with Lovino lying on top of Antonio. But something told Lovino it wasn't entirely that.

Lovino began to move with Antonio, just as slowly, just as sensually. Antonio hadn't even found his prostrate yet, nor were they moving very quickly, but Lovino already felt like he was drowning in pleasure. The large hands on his hips guided his movements, keeping them together, pressing deeply inside of him. Lovino's hands were on Antonio's shoulders, tilting himself upwards to try and find the spot that would shoot liquid fire into his veins.

His heart was beating frantically when they finally began to pick up speed. They moved together gracefully, moving away from each other only to come back together a second later. When Antonio finally found Lovino's sweet spot the Italian arched, pressing his cock against Antonio's stomach and grinding down.

At some point Antonio had flipped them over, making Lovino jolt in the process. Antonio propped himself up just enough to keep the pace, but whenever Lovino arched their chests were still pressed together. From this angle it was both easier for Antonio to press against Lovino's prostate, and for Lovino to tug Antonio down by his hair into a kiss.

This was what Lovino loved. Feeling every inch of the body pressed against him, inside and out. He could feel the heaving breaths, the vibrations deep in his chest, and, if he paid attention, their hearts beating frantically.

Sweat made their bodies slide against each other easier, and made their movements more fluid against one another. Once Antonio reached for Lovino's member, pumping it in time with his thrusts, Lovino knew the end was near. Antonio's thrusts were gaining speed and force, sacrificing depth for force, but they were also more unsteady. Lovino moved against him, rolling his hips one last time before he came, painting their stomachs in his essence.

Antonio came soon after, pressing himself deeply into Lovino and –if the resounding vibrations were anything to go by- groaning long and low.

They stayed like that, pressed against one another, until Lovino moved to shove Antonio's shoulder and push him off. Antonio begrudgingly complied, pulling himself out of Lovino before rolling over to lie next to him.

Lovino laid there enjoying the post-sex high and the feeling of the bed dipping next to him. Antonio moved to clasp their hands together and Lovino laced his fingers through Antonio's.

Eventually the come on their stomachs began to dry and Lovino moved to get up with the intention of cleaning himself off before it got any more disgusting.

The lights in the bathroom were bright and harsh after getting used to the limited lighting in the bedroom. Lovino had to squint to find his way to the shower and turn it on to the right temperature. When Antonio found his way into the bathroom just a moment after, he pulled Lovino into the shower with him with no regard for the actual temperature of the water.

The cold water woke them both up from their sleepy, satiated daze, but did nothing to ruin the contented feeling that had washed over them. Antonio pulled Lovino to his chest, shielding himself from the cold spray and forcing it all onto Lovino's back, though he doubted the bastard knew what he was doing. The Spaniard was always much more cuddly after they'd had a good romp, and there was no way to defend himself from his affections.

Especially because Lovino was usually a lot calmer as well.

As expected, Antonio was curled up against Lovino, his head tucked in the crook of his neck, like they weren't standing in the shower while Lovino was forced to endure the slowly heating water. By the time it reached a semi normal temperature Antonio had begun placing little butterfly kisses on his neck and the side of his face. Lovino pushed him back a little bit so he could set about actually cleaning himself up.

When he didn't feel a Spaniard latch onto him as soon as he'd turned around, Lovino peeked back over his shoulder to see Antonio just… standing there. He was hardly even wet except for a few rogue drops that had made it past Lovino and all the way to the back of the shower, but he wasn't moving to do anything about it. His expression was conflicted, pinched for a reason that completely escaped Lovino.

'Bastard, what's wrong?' Lovino asked, sacrificing the little time he had to bathe in hot water to try and wipe that look off of his face. Antonio looked at him analytically before heaving a great sigh. Lovino merely raised a brow in response. If he didn't get an answer soon he was kicking Antonio and his mopey face out of the shower.

After a moment of hesitation Antonio finally lifted his hands, and signed 'Would you speak for me?' His movements were fluid, and there was no fingerspelling involved, leading Lovino to believing that he'd been planning to ask this for a while.

Well, too fucking bad.

Lovino shook his head, his expression resolute, and he turned back towards the spray of water and pretended that he hadn't seen the devastated look on Antonio's face. With a dollop of shampoo Lovino began violently scrubbing at his scalp, trying to rid himself of the sudden tension that wasn't befitting his post-sex daze.

His rough hands were replaced with two larger, gentler ones, and Lovino practically melted as Antonio began massaging his scalp more than lathering the shampoo. His head had always been a rather sensitive spot for him, and he knew Antonio was more than aware.

When Antonio removed his hands and Lovino turned around to rinse the suds from his hair Antonio struck again. If he didn't know better he would have said the bastard looked timid. His sign was simple, but held more weight than Lovino thought he could bear.

'Why?'

Instead of answering, Lovino ignored him. The Italian moved from the spray of the water to the space underneath as he went about washing his face. The water acted as a poor barrier between the two of them, but somehow Lovino was comforted by the small distance.

That was broken when Antonio moved his head underneath the water, effectively replacing the water barrier with a tan back that was gone as quickly as it came. The Spaniard had to reach around Lovino to reach the shampoo, and the Italian was ashamed that he flinched like he thought Antonio was going to hit him or something. He wasn't willing to break the barrier again to rinse his face off, even if Antonio was still facing away from him. The dejected slump in his shoulders was enough for Lovino to never want to see him without the distortion of the water ever again.

Lovino simply left the substance on his face as he moved on to scrub his body clean. He was quick to finish up and rinse himself off before he hopped out of the tiny shower entirely, leaving Antonio to the cooling water to finish up by himself. He had never been as thankful for Antonio's lazy two-in-one shampoo and conditioner as he was in that moment so he didn't have to turn around to face Antonio again to rinse anything out of his hair.

After drying off and getting dressed in an oversized T-shirt- he hated falling asleep in pants- Lovino threw the towel in the general direction of the laundry basket. Normally Lovino was adamant about putting the dirty clothes in their rightful place, and even though it was Lovino's preference and not Antonio's he still felt it was to spite him.

He wondered if he should change the sheets. There wasn't any come on them, since it had all ended up on their stomachs, but they were rumpled and likely smelled of sweat. Lovino decided to leave it, and flopped face-first onto the bed instead.

Antonio stayed in the bathroom for quite a while but Lovino wasn't sure if he was just extending his shower, or if he was stalling. There definitely weren't any clothes in the bathroom, since Antonio hadn't brought any clothes in there and his dirty clothes usually stayed in the hamper at least.

Lovino was half asleep by the time he felt the bed dip, his face buried deep in a pillow. He was too relaxed to move when he felt a hand in his hair, nor when he felt Antonio move down to cuddle up next to him. In fact, he might have cuddled back. Just the smallest bit.

Despite the warmth of Antonio curled up against his back Lovino still couldn't fall asleep. His hair was still damp and chilly against the pillowcase, and there were too many thoughts swirling around in his head for him to doze off completely, so he stayed in the frustrating limbo between sleep and consciousness for a while longer.

Why? Why did Antonio want him to speak of all things? His voice was probably the thing Lovino was the most ashamed of. He'd been loud as a child. Very, very loud. And, as he was told by all kinds of people, very obnoxious. Lovino had never known what kinds of noises he was making, of course. Sometimes, if he hit the right pitch at the right volume he could feel his voice in his throat or on his tongue, but he'd never really understood what all of that meant to people who could hear.

Usually that was when people chastised him the most.

It was all kind of theoretical to him. He understood that things made different noises, but it was a sense he'd never had anything to do with. It was like explaining color to a person who had been blind their whole life, or explaining salt to someone who couldn't taste. It was a separate reality. It was something that he knew existed, but could never really fathom himself.

In audiology classes they'd tried to teach him how to speak. How to bend and shape his mouth into the correct sounds, but Lovino had failed at that as well and he was constantly compared to his brother despite their differing circumstances.

Feliciano, like Lovino's mother, wasn't completely deaf. He had been very hard of hearing as a young child- so much so that he couldn't understand people unless he had hearing aids in and the speaker was looking directly at him, but he could still vaguely hear sounds, however muffled they might have been.

Feliciano was able to speak, unlike Lovino. He understood the difference between sounds and shapes of his mouth because he could hear them if they were loud enough. After he'd gotten cochlear implants his speech had only improved, and he often saw his brother get complimented about "how great he was at speaking for a deaf guy".

But Feliciano wasn't deaf. Not completely. Lovino was deaf. He'd never been able to hear a thing. Not with the help of hearing aids. Not when it was blasting directly into his ear. He knew how a person's mouth bent to form certain words, but he had no comprehension of the sounds that went along with it. How did 'oh' sound different than 'ah' when they both felt the same? Why did the slight difference in his mouth make so much of a difference?

It wasn't impossible for someone with no hearing whatsoever to speak. Lovino had been told by nearly every family member for virtually his entire life. His mother could speak. Feliciano could speak. These other completely deaf people could speak. So why couldn't Lovino? Was he just too dumb?

And that's what most people ultimately thought about him, wasn't it? That he was dumb or disabled in some way because he was deaf and mute. Most people thought that Feliciano, his half-wit brother was the smarter one when he was forced to translate Lovino's sign into something other people could understand.

He wasn't smarter. He was nicer, and that was a very, very big difference.

If people didn't want to learn his language- a language that he'd been told was "easy"- why should he make a fool of himself to try and speak theirs? Even when he had genuinely tried to excel in his audiology classes he was never able to accomplish anything. They'd never been able to move on from the difference in each vowel.

Was Antonio going to leave him too when he refused to speak to him?

Lovino could read lips fairly well. As long as the speaker wasn't slurring or talking too quickly Lovino usually never had a problem making out what they were saying. He could write in proper English and sign to communicate what he needed in both America and Italy. Technically, he spoke three languages. Why did his inability to speak back or hear something that had o visual or physical clues make him disabled? He could get around on his own with absolutely no help unlike someone who was blind. He could compete in sports and the like unlike someone who was paralyzed. He could drive and live on his own and form healthy relationships and hold down a job without any special privileges. Was it really so pitiable that he couldn't hear and in turn couldn't speak?

Maybe he was disabled. He'd never been able to get a hand of that "facial grammar" they always talked about in school. Which, of course, Feliciano had excelled in with his expressive mannerisms and absolute need to communicate with everyone. He had never understood why he had to bend his expression into such exaggerated shapes when his hands said enough. If whoever he was talking to couldn't tell the difference in the shape of his hand then how was that his fault? If he signed correctly wasn't that enough?

He felt his facial expression represented the tone of what he was saying enough that it shouldn't have been exaggerated to such ridiculous lengths. When he'd seen others signing with the correct "facial grammar" it had reminded Lovino a clown or a court jester, not someone who was meant to be taken seriously.

He just wanted to sign. Maybe write if he had to. He didn't want to make a fool of himself with his expression or his voice. That, however, was something that most hard-of-hearing people did not agree with. He had to conform to what they believed made a normal person, and that was such utter bullshit.

He had thought Antonio knew that, however. He'd thought Antonio was the first person who really understood that. Had he been wrong? They had never talked about Lovino's deafness, of course, aside from the occasionally reference to how Antonio was going to learn to sign for him. Maybe he didn't even know how deaf Lovino really was, and maybe the idea would completely turn him off of the idea and he'd leave him for someone that was easier to communicate with- easier to understand. Someone who could speak to him and hear him when he spoke.

The gentle pressure against his back and around his waist reminded him that Antonio was still here with him now, but what about a few weeks from now? A few months? Was his mutism really going to stop him from having a decent relationship with someone who was hearing?

Antonio had been trying so hard since they'd met to learn asl and communicate with Lovino in his language. Would he expect Lovino to do the same for him? He could probably learn Spanish- the bastard's native tongue- and become fluent in both its written and signed form before he could ever properly say anything beyond the babbles and gurgles that he was sure he produced when he tried to speak.

With the idea of disappointing Antonio leaving a heavy feeling in his gut, his hair dried against the pillow and he resigned himself to a night of little sleep. Just as he was settling in for the spiral of depression he was sure to explore for the next few hours, he felt the body behind him shift, pull him closer, and then tug at his right side as if trying to get him to roll over. Lovino complied only to be met with the shirtless chest of the man as he leaned up and over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table.

'What?' he asked irritably, frustrated that the particular sign made him sit up uncomfortably from how he was leaning so he could use both hands.

Then Antonio asked the question that had been on Lovino's mind for the past few weeks- the one he still didn't have an answer to after hours of contemplation.

'What a-r-e we?'

Lovino moved to sit up so he could use both of his hands, mirroring Antonio's cross legged position. Lovino contemplated how he should respond for a moment before he decided that it was probably best to fingerspell the more complicated words. This wasn't the kind of conversation they could have over a phone, but they didn't need any misunderstandings either.

'What d-o you m-e-a-n?' he asked, though he knew exactly what Antonio was asking. There was such a serious look on his face and it scared Lovino. Was he already breaking it off? It was so unlike the Spaniard to give up after one denial being the persistent bastard that he was, but was it really such a big deal?

Antonio's jaw was set when he replied, like he didn't like his own question. 'B-o-y-f-r-i-e-n-d-s? F-u-c-k b-u-d-d-i-e-s? What?'

Lovino chewed his lip as he thought about what he should reply with. He knew which one he wanted to choose, but which one was actually correct? His eyes darted towards the sheets on the bed, as if they could somehow provide him with an answer, but they weren't forthcoming in the slightest. He felt the bed dip and wiggle as Antonio adjusted on it, and he slid his eyes back up towards the man.

He actually looked nervous. Was he just as worried about the answer as Lovino was? The trepidation in those emerald eyes gave Lovino an odd sort of confidence. Even if they were dreading different answers, Lovino wasn't alone in his fear.

With a sharp inhale and drawn out exhale Lovino gathered the rest of his courage. His reply was hesitant. 'I like boyfriends'

Antonio's eyes grew wide, and he looked at Lovino with the oddest expression he'd ever seen. His mouth was open just slightly into a neutral oval, and his eyebrows were raised and pinched. But the oddest of all was his eyes. They looked panicked, and watery, and so confused.

So that was it then. Antonio hadn't really wanted anything else from him in the first place. He supposed that was fair. They'd never talked about it, nor had they made any sort of commitment. Lovino must have just misinterpreted the look in his eyes and the intentions behind the small, innocent touches.

Whatever. Lovino tried to disregard the heavy sinking feeling in his chest and the stinging in his eyes, but they seemed too powerful to ignore. Lovino watched as Antonio raised is hands again if only so this would all be over quicker.

'What? What i-s-' the hand motions that followed were vaguely like the ones Lovino had just done, but they were off and very sloppy and a little backwards, and Lovino realized Antonio was trying to ask him what he said.

Oh. Shit, he forgotten to fingerspell.

'I l-i-k-e b-o-y-f-r-i-e-n-d-s' He repeated slowly and deliberately.

The ugly expression on Antonio's face melted as he put the word together in his mind. Before Lovino had even finished spelling out boyfriends Antonio had slumped over in what looked like relief. Lovino was pulled into a bruising kiss before he could finish the 's' at the end of the word, but he found that he didn't quite mind.

When Antonio pulled away once the kiss had delved past the two minute mark they were both gasping for breath like they'd just gone another round. Antonio was smiling, and when he finally responded with a sweet 'me 2' drawn on the bare skin of Lovino's thigh he felt his lips bending up to match.