A/N: I personally love insecure, needy Romano with France trying to reassure him that he's perfect as he is
"Afterglow"
Lovino sat on the edge of the bed, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. His body was completely exposed, light and shadow dancing across his flawed olive skin. Behind him, the blond Frenchman lay on his back, his blue eyes tracing the Italian's scars and his lower half covered by the rumpled blankets.
"You know, I never thought I would see an Italian in my bed," Francis commented suddenly, a smile evident in his tone.
Lovino glanced over is shoulder, his expression far from the amusement of the other man's. "I'm sure if you had fantasized about it, you would have chosen the other, no?" he replied finally, his tone scathing in a way that suggested the disgust was directed at himself.
"Of course not," Francis answered softly, finally sitting up, "In the beginning, it was equal…but eventually I realized that you needed me. And what I want, more than anything else, is to be needed."
Lovino scoffed, but he turned away so Francis wouldn't see the surprise in his eyes.
"I don't need you," he retorted defensively, taking another drag.
"Oh, but you do, mon petit Italien," the blond replied softly, wrapping his arms around his lover from behind, his lips brushing lightly over his shoulder, "You do, Lovino…You hate yourself, and I love you…"
