"Feli, why the fuck did you bring the potato bastard into my house?"

"I'm sorry fratello! Don't hurt me! I just wanted us to all have dinner together!"

"Yeah well I don't want my dinner poisoned by potatoes!"

"Fratello, he's not going to poison anything!"

Ludwig looked over at Antonio. "So is he like this with you too?"

"What do you mean?" Lovino continued to condemn everything German and potato related in the background.

"I mean is he always so... how do I put this..."

"Pissy?" Antonio smiled.

"Yes," the blond breathed, glad he wasn't the one to have to say it.

The Spaniard considered this. "Usually, but not always. Like sometimes when we cuddle after sex he'll..." Ludwig blushed, not really wanting to hear about that. "...Say something really sweet and then it's worth the rest of the time. You know?" He looked over at the German, who nodded silently, seeming to find the bookcase very interesting. Lovino was still ranting and Antonio decided it was time to intervene. "Lovi, come on. Germany's not going to potatify anything. And if he does we can get rid of him, okay?"

"Spain, you'd get rid of Ludwig?" Feliciano asked incredulously, pouting.

Lovino crossed his arms and huffed, clearly won over. "Fine," he muttered. "But if I taste a single potato," he pointed menacingly at Ludwig, "I'll kick your ass myself. Got it?" Ludwig nodded and tried to keep from laughing.

The first argument of the night over, the Lovino, Feliciano, and Ludwig made their way to the dining room where the table had already been set. No one could deny that Antonio was a good host. As the other three sat down, he stepped into the kitchen to grab the food that he had made. He came into the dining room to a rather funny sight. Feliciano was looking worriedly from his brother to his boyfriend, seeming to be on the verge of tears, as he often did. Lovino was glaring harshly at the large blond, his arms folded stubbornly across his chest. Ludwig was looking intently at his folded hands, a very uncomfortable expression on his face.

"Food time!" Antonio sang, trying to break the tension.

The three looked at him. Feliciano was the one to smile widely. "Yay! What do we have Spain?"

"Paella," the Spaniard grinned.

"Tch. Of course," muttered Lovino.

"Oh Lovi. Paella's delicious. I know you love it!"

"Except you make it all the time bastard. Aren't you capable of making anything else?"

"I'll make something other than paella when you make something other than pasta or pizza, okay Lovi?" Antonio set the food down on the table and sat in the chair across from the older Italian, who just grunted and looked away, but not before scooping a generous amount of the food onto his plate.

"So Spain. I hope mi fratello has been nicer to you," Feliciano chirped through a mouthful of paella.

"Oh no. Not really," the Spaniard replied cheerfully. "But I don't mind. 'Cause I love him anyway."

"Bastard! Don't say that shit at the table!"

"Lovi!" Antonio whined. "It's not shit! It's true."

"Well you still shouldn't say stuff like that in front of my brother, idiot!"

Antonio's face went slightly hard. "Why not?" he asked, more quietly than before.

"Because it's...!" Lovino trailed off, noticing the man's expression.

"It's what, Lovino?" he whispered. Go ahead. Say it. It's embarrassing. You don't want me to love you. Say it. Say it. SAY IT.

Ludwig looked from one man to the other. "Euh... we can... go if you want..." he suggested awkwardly.

"Go ahead," the Spaniard said quietly, never taking his eyes off the stunned Lovino.

The blond stood up. "Come on Feliciano. I think we should leave them alone." The little Italian stood up silently and obediently and the two left without a word.

Why is he looking at me like that? "What's wrong Spain?"

"I might ask you the same."

"What are you talking about idiot?"

"Tell me Lovi, why am I an idiot?"

Lovino sputtered. "Well... I... I don't know! You're just... What the hell is going on with you? You're never like this!"

"Well you're always like this," Antonio growled. "With me at least."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know. What does it mean? Why do you insult me all the time but not Feliciano?"

Lovino was taken aback. "Feliciano? What are you saying?"

"I don't know Lovi! What am I saying?" Antonio stood up violently. "Why do you treat me like shit and him like a princess?"

"Hey! He's my little brother! I love him!"

"Don't you love me?"

"That's different!"

"How is it different Lovino?" the man asked dangerously. Silence. "How is it different?"

"Because he's my little brother," the Italian replied weakly.

"And you love him more."

"What?"

"Are you even sure you love me at all?"

"Of course I do!" Lovino blurted out. He immediately regretted it. "I mean... that is..."

"See? You can't even say it, much less feel it." The smaller man said nothing, but stared up at him. Antonio slumped back into his chair miserably. "God damn it." No reply. I knew it. I forced him into this. He doesn't even care about me. "Get out," he muttered, his face in his hands.

Lovino reached out timidly. "Spain..."

"Get out!" He can't even call me by my name. Angry, Lovino stood up and stomped out of the room, leaving Antonio alone to hate himself. I'm so stupid. How could I not have noticed? I really am an idiot. But... he'll be happier with Feliciano. He'll be happier without me.

Lovino stormed outside, unable to believe what had just happened. "I knew it!" he yelled to no one. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of his tears of frustration. The way he looks at me. So unhappy. I knew he didn't want to be with me! And why should he? God damn it! I couldn't even say I love him! I'm so useless! Stupid bastard! Why did I have to love him so much? He'll just be happier without me.

Ouch! My heart! Who'd have thought Antonio would break first? Weird. It just kind of came out that way. This is really sad. But there's a happy ending, I promise! Review review review!