Phalloi and Frenchmen

It had been a week since the fated shower intrusion. Antonio had barely seen Lovino save for when the Italian exited his room for the occasional bathroom break or for dinner. He had tried to engage Lovi in conversation only to be met with grunts and one word answers before the younger man scurried away to his room and locking the door.

I wonder what's the matter with Lovi, Antonio thought to himself, it's not like it's a big deal. We've seen each other naked before.

Having known the boy since childhood, it was bound to happen from time to time, Antonio had reasoned.

That was when the thought struck him. What if Lovi's feeling inadequate?

Antonio blushed and the unintentional self flattery. Sure he wasn't setting any world records, but he was by no means lacking in that department either.

It worried the Spaniard, really. Lovino always had self esteem issues. What if that incident had made him ashamed of his body?

I should do something about this, Antonio made a silent declaration to himself. But how?

How do you bring up a topic like this to someone who is already very embarrassed about it? Antonio found himself in quite the quandry. It would definitely be uncomfortable, but it was something he must do. After all, what if his poor Lovi did something brash and hurt himself because of it? Being locked in his room alone for a week, it only made sense. It was a thought he couldn't bear.

With much ado, he marched with much conviction to the Italian man's room. This conversation would happen one way or another, even if he did have to get forceful.

. . . .

"Lovi, open the door!" Antonio whined as he knocked on his door. On second thought, being forceful wasn't one of Antonio's strong suits where Lovino was concerned. But what he lacked in assertion, he made up for in persistence. This had been going on for five minutes straight.

"Fuck off, you bastard!"

"Pleeease? I need to talk to you about something!"

"Fine." Lovino sighed at the realization the only way to shut him up was to give him what he wants. " This had better be good," he muttered as he opened the door.

"Lovi . . . I want you to know . . . errr . . . that we are all different . . . and that you should accept yourself because you're fine just the way you are!" Okay that sounded way better in his head.

Antonio's feeble attempt at an inspirational speech was met with a blank stare.

"Uh, what?" Lovino blinked a couple of times trying to absorb what could only be described as an incoherent word salad thrown at him.

"Ahahaha, what I mean to say is I don't want you to feel bad and do something brash and die, okay?" He probably should have planned this out better.

" . . . Did that choking incident the other day leave you with brain damage?"

"Eh, what I meant to say was . . ." Antonio searched for more words. He couldn't explain for the life of him why, but at that very moment he pictured Lovino in his dream writhing underneath him with half-lidded eyes, his single curl (among other things) standing on attention, "Y-you're more than big enough for me, Lovi. You always will be!"

Er. Oops.

Antonio was always known for one particular defining trait. He could not sense the mood of a situation for the life of him. Most of the time he never really bothered. But this time was different. This time he was painfully aware of the cursed mood this time. For the second time in a week, he couldn't help but feel a wave of embarrassment wash over him. He didn't know why, but the Italian man standing in front of him was the only person who managed to make him feel self conscious. Lovino was the only person he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of.

Lovino's face went from a brief mix of bewilderment and amusement before blushing and wearing his usual scowl.

"A-are you trying to be funny now? Or just trying to piss me off?

"Please don't get mad! I just wanted to, um, check up on you. You've been up here for so long I was worried."

Lovino sighed, "I'm fine, geez. I don't need a Tomato bastard like you checking up on me."

He relaxed and opened the door the rest of the way before strolling past Antonio and down to the kitchen.

That's the great thing about Antonio, Lovino smirked, he always cares enough make sure you know your penis is big enough. Seriously, what the hell?

Antonio stood in the hallway as he watched Lovino walk down the hall. Most definitely not watching the sway of his hips as he took each step.

This is more serious than I thought. I need some advice. Perhaps I'll pay a visit to Francis tomorrow. He knows a lot about this sort of thing.

Antonio showed up at Francis's house the next day. The Frenchman was one of Antonio's best friends, but Antonio couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety about this visit. Could he really confide in his friend about this?

Antonio wasn't able to dwell on it for too long as the blond man appeared in the door," Bonjour, mon ami! Ca va?"

"Bueno! Thanks for seeing me on such short notice."

"You sounded troubled when you called. I couldn't possibly turn you away when you're in need. Champagne?"

It was nine in the morning.

"Eh, no. I have to drive and I can't stay for too long."

Francis shrugged and poured himself a glass.

"So what is troubling you so much that you must come to petit-moi for help?" He swirled the champagne in his glass.

"Eh, well it is a little embarrassing. It's a um . . . sex thing." Antonio stammered a bit getting the last part out.

The Frenchman raised his eyebrows at this. Intriguing indeed.

"Well, you have come to the right person. I am well versed in the ways of l'amour. So is it another strapping Spaniard such as yourself?"

"Um more like Italian. I've been having some, um, dreams about this person and at first I just sort of shrugged it off. I mean, the mind can to weird things to you, no?"

They both chuckled and Francis nodded his head.

"So I just ignored it at first, but then they became more persistent. It's like almost every night now."

Francis smirked to himself while he was listening to his friends laments. Antonio was incredibly bad at being vague. He had it figured out by 'Italian'. He'd known the Spaniard long enough to know he has quite the infatuation for Italian men. He remembered when Lovino first came into Antonio's care. He practically became Antonio's life. Francis had resented him for that for a long time. Eventually as Lovino grew up, so did their relationship. Whether either of them knew or cared to admit it, they were quite taken with one another. He could tell. It's a French thing.

Being the moody, reclusive brat he was, Francis couldn't fathom why Antonio would develop feelings for Lovino. Antonio was, well, hot. He could get anyone he wants, and what he wanted was his surly Italian roommate. Granted Lovino wasn't hard on the eyes, but Francis reasoned that anyone willing to look past all of those flaws and still want him must be truly in love. And above all else, Francis was an advocate for love.

". . . So I don't know what to do or what it all means. I mean, what if it makes things weird between us?"

Obviously he doesn't have any idea, Francis thought, I could tell him what it means but he wouldn't believe me.

"It could be something innocent. Or maybe it could be a yearning for some . . . affection. Maybe it's something you could try exploring with him. Take your relationship to the next level?" Francis hinted.

"Hmmm, maybe you're right. We've known each other for so long, maybe we should hug more!"

Well, Antonio was still as dense as ever. Ah well, if it's not helpful it should at least be entertaining.

"Hey, wait a minute!"Antonio said suddenly,"How'd you know it was a guy? I never said either way."

"Er, a wild guess?" Francis shrugged. Best he figure it out on his own.

"Either way, thank you! This was very helpful!" Antonio said.

"Not a problem, mon ami."

"Francis?"

"Oui?"

"Would you mind taking your hand out from under my shirt?"