This terrified him.

More than wars, more than natural disaster or complete economic breakdown, this of all things scared Lovino. Standing outside Germany's house, Gilbert walking in front of him, suitcase in hand.

Gilbert had been talking excitedly about how much of an awesome time they were going to have since the moment Lovino had stepped off the plane. If Lovino didn't knew better-which he wasn't entirely sure he did-he could've mistaken Gilbert's enthusiastic conversation for nervous ramblings. The Italian had barely said a word since greeting the Prussian, nerves taking over.

They were really doing this.

The moment Lovino stepped into the house, he found himself being tackled by an excited blur of an Italian.

"Fratellone!"

Lovino caught his brother with practice ease, the force of the collision barely shaking his balance. Feliciano smiled brightly up at him, clinging tightly to his brother.

"Ciao, Feli," Lovino said, forcing a smile for Feliciano's sake.

"I'm so happy you're here!" Feliciano said in Italian.

As he spoke, Feliciano grabbed Lovino's hand and practically dragged his older sibling towards the guest room.

"Now we can have lots of fun, and Ludwig will be here and it'll be so amazing!" Feliciano chattered happily.

Lovino allowed himself to be led upstairs, lacking the heart and the cruelty to tell his brother to let him go, or to shut up. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have even let them near him. Well, almost anyone else.

Feliciano chatted for what felt like forever, sitting on the bed and swinging his legs and Lovino put his things away. It took a while for him to get the message that Lovino wasn't particularly interested in the conversation. The flight from Rome to Berlin wasn't particularly long, but it still left Lovino wanting at least a few minutes to himself.

The second Feliciano left the room, Lovino collapsed onto the bed. He closed his eyes against the sight of the unfamiliar ceiling, reminding himself that he'd agreed to this, he didn't need to be nervous.

In the end he tried not to think about it, that they were actually doing this. Heaven help them if Antonio ever found out…

Lovino slammed the palm of his hand against his face, groaning softly. He seriously needed to stop doing this. Lovino didn't have to answer to anyone anymore…still, it'd been so long since he'd had this kind of freedom.

"How come you look like you're dying?"

Lovino had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't heard the door creaking open, or footsteps approaching the bed as a face peered down at him.

"Piss off."

Lovino could've hit himself. For the first thing he'd said to Gilbert since the airport, it wasn't exactly great. What the hell was wrong with him?

The bed dipped with the sudden addition of extra weight. Even with his hand covering his face, Lovino could figure out that Gilbert was sitting on the bed next to him. The Italian let his arm drop, staring up at the albino face looming over him.

Gilbert was wearing a black t-shirt.

It was the first thing he noticed. It was the sort of this that shouldn't have stuck out, but it did. The dark colour contrasted so radically with his deathly pale skin that it almost looked as though the Prussian was dead. The thought scared Lovino so much that he tentatively reached out a hand to trace gently along a thin, pale arm. Gilbert tilted his head, watching Lovino's actions.

"What're you doing?"

"Making sure you're real," Lovino murmured, knowing it would make no sense.

"You're weird," Gilbert snorted, lifting his arm to catch Lovino's hand within his own. Lovino knew he was blushing, but he also knew there was nothing he could do about it.

"I never said it was a bad thing," Gilbert shrugged, smirking.

Very carefully, very purposefully, he lifted Lovino's hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against Lovino's tanned skin. He acted as if he were afraid of scaring Lovino away, which, the Italian realised, he probably was. Lovino didn't have the best reputation when it came to displays of affection, despite being Italian.

"B-bastard!" Lovino said quietly, but as much as he tried to force himself to be angry, he couldn't.

Then Gilbert dropped his hand, and the intimate moment was over.

"I came to tell you dinner's ready. Feli cooked, so it'll be good."

Trademark smirk in place, Gilbert rose from the bed and walked out, leaving one very flustered Italian still lying on the bed.