With a blush he looks down, laughing, pressing his wrist to his cheek while his fork in still tangled in his Alfredo. He looks up for a brief moment, sky blue irises glimmering in shy admiration before he returns to a state of looking down and giggling.

I smirk at him, propped up against the table trying to be as chill as possible, "Before he even had a chance to get his fat ass up, they kicked him and he went rolling down the hill like a log. Think he broke his back, but I was laughing too hard to make sure."

"Oh, dear. Well, who would've cared anyway?" He asks, "Nobody likes him that much anyways..."

"True, true, true." I nod, admiring as his face returned to the same shade of pale that it normally was.

"So, um, Waluigi," he began after a moment of silence, "Today's competition was harsh, no?"

"Very harsh. You looked like you were about to collapse from playing so much." I reply, deciding to keep my comment about how his body looked so damn screwable and -

Ahem.

"Well, Mario sorta made me do it. I was the only one that actually practiced y'know." He twisted his fork mindlessly, "You were graceful as always." He bats his eyes, like the girly man that he is.

"Of course, I'm always a beast at striker games." I grin as I stroke my ego, "You not gonna eat?"

"O-oh, um, yeah, I am..." He blushes once more, focusing on wrapping noodles around his fork.

I chuckle; sometimes he's too damn cute for his own good.

"Oh! I'm so rude! Did you want anything?" He sits up, worried curves forming in his eyebrows.

I shake my head, "No, no, I already barged into your house while you were getting ready to eat dinner, no need."

"Are you sure? Not even a glass of water?"

"Hmm..." I grab my chin, "...well, I think I do want something..."

He stands up, "What is it? I'll get it for you."

I smirk as I lean back, "I think I want...the hand of an Italian, to hold as I'm walking down the street with him on a daily basis."

He stops walking towards the fridge as he seems to take in what I just said.

"Or, maybe I'd like a couch that is perfect for cuddling a lean man like you as some movie that you wanted to watch plays on the TV." I nod silently.

He holds his arms as he shyly starts to twist the toe of his shoe on the floor; his blush has started to return.

"Ooh, but if you don't have that then maybe I'll just take a little kiss; a nice smooch on your pale, smooth lips would be a nice little treat. Could you make it a French kiss, if possible?"

He reaches up and touches his lips timidly.

"If you don't have that, then may I ask for an embrace in your bedroom, lulling you to sleep in the warmth my skinny torso can provide just for you? Maybe I can sing for you while I'm at it." I get up from my seat, smiling as I approach with my arms open. When I get close, he flinches and backs away and I follow until I have him pinned against the counter.

"Well?" I ask, pressing my forehead to his, "Can I have any of that, Luigi?"

Luigi bats his eyes once more, "I... I think I can get you a kiss," he reaches up and grabs my chin, "And maybe I can get that couch for you, along with that embrace and hand to hold as you walk down the street."

I nod, "If you don't mind, that's what I want."

He giggles as he pulls our mouths closer, "Certainly, Waluigi."

**A mindless fluffy I wrote at 11:00 pm. I thought it was gonna snow and give my school district a two hour delay. Close, but no cigar **