A/N: Wah, I've left this for too long. I feel bad for not updating, but senior Lyceum is killing me. Killing me dead. I decided to just post what I have, though it may not be as long as usual…hopefully it's still okay. My sister said it was cute, which I guess is a good thing? Thanks especially to Kuraitsuki Tukiko and Earth Coyote for leaving reviews recently and reminding me I needed to update this.

I need a new muse, yo.

TALA 3

Lovino stumbled into the dorm room's small kitchenette, rubbing blearily at his eyes.

Shit. Why was he up so early? He usually didn't wake up from his siesta until five, and here it was only…he checked the clock.

Three fucking thirty. Christ.

He'd gotten back from church around one, eaten a moderate-sized lunch, and headed straight to bed. But then he'd tossed and turned for half an hour, despite being exhausted and having the comfortable mattress he'd brought from home. When he'd finally fallen asleep, it was still restless. He remembered waking up several times from vague nightmares.

All of these, he realized, were usually symptoms of trying to sleep when he knew he had something important to do. Whether he was procrastinating or had just forgotten, he would be plagued with dreams about the assignment or test or whatever it was.

He started the coffeepot (so what if it was afternoon? He'd just woken up. He needed coffee, dammit, and he could make it a help of a lot better than any campus coffee shop) and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. He knew he didn't have any assignments—unlike his scatterbrained brother, he kept a planner and regularly updated his To-Do list. He'd already done the homework that his professors would bother asking for, and crossed off the stuff he could get away with not doing (What? Just because he kept a planner didn't mean he actually did the work).

So what was he forgetting?

The coffeemaker binged just as he remembered.

"Shit!" he screeched. There was an answering scream from the bedroom area. He dashed to his bunk.

"Romano?" Feliciano asked nervously, half cowering under the bed sheets. "What's going on? Why did you scream?"

"I'm goddamned freaking late! Ugh, that bastard!" He started changing rapidly.

"Who?" His brother emerged slightly. "Are you going somewhere, Romano?"

"Yeah. Now." He pulled his shoes on and checked his reflection in the mirror. Slightly disheveled, but he made it look intentional. He tried to flatten his hair down a bit before he realized exactly what he was doing. He scowled. I am not trying to look good for some homeless kid. If anything he should make me look good by comparison.

Then he remembered…Alfred was pretty damn good-looking for a homeless person (though not to Lovino, obviously). Maybe Feliciano was on to something with the blond hair blue eyes combo (not that Lovino had been paying attention to Alfred's looks, obviously). But Alfred had a much better personality than the kraut (not that Lovino would ever consider Alfred boyfriend material, obviously).

And this was not a date.

Obviously.

And that was a good thing.

…obviously.

He let out another frustrated groan.

"Romano? You've been staring at the mirror for a while now…"

Snapping out of his stupor, Lovino grabbed his cell phone and checked the time. 3:42. It usually took at least ten minutes to get to the library, but that was because he walked as slowly as possible, reluctant to go to work. But if he ran…

Feliciano called out, "Bye, Romano! Have fun on your date!" as he hurtled out the door.

"It's not a date!" Lovino screamed back, because it wasn't—and what did Feliciano know, anyway? He ignored the giggling that followed after him.

Lovino had almost made it to the meeting place (in a record four minutes) when he suddenly felt as if he'd run into a railing. Rather than a metal pole, however, he found he'd been stopped by and arm stretched out to catch him around the middle.

Lovino wheezed a bit at the abrupt halt, glaring at the offending arm and following it back up—shoulder, neck, face.

Oh great. Bonnefoy, the French teacher.

"And where are you going in such a hurry, little Romano?"

Lovino pried at Bonnefoy's arm, struggling to free himself. The Frenchman let go, only to reposition his arm around Lovino's shoulders, instead.

"Must be an important meeting if you are so eager to get away from moi, hm?" His face lit up with a malicious kind of glee. Lovino paled at the expression. "Perhaps you are on your way to see a paramour~? You must take your big brother Francis to meet the lucky lady!"

"It's nothing like that! And I'm already late so let go you stupid—"

Bonnefoy cut him off with that annoying "ohonhonhon" laugh of his.

"Of course it is not a date, mon ami," he said patronizingly.

Lovino stomped on the professor's foot. "It's not!" he insisted. "Get lost, you fucking pervert."

"Ah, so cruel." Bonnefoy was wincing a bit as he finally relinquished his grip, much to Lovino's satisfaction.

He straightened his clothes a bit and set off at a brisk walk towards the library—somehow running with Bonnefoy watching seemed undignified. Plus he could imagine the older man leering after him like the creeper he was. But then—horror of horrors—he realized Bonnefoy was following him.

Lovino checked his watch, 3:47, and saw damn he'd made good time, but he was still late and definitely didn't have time to try and lose Bonnefoy.

So, scowling, he ignored the perverted presence behind him and kept going.

The library finally came into view at 3:49.

Nineteen minutes…that wasn't so late, right? Shit, he hoped the idiot was still here. He scanned the outside of the building anxiously, searching—there! Sitting on the steps, right near the bottom on the left side of the entrance.

"Oh, there's Alfred," Bonnefoy murmured behind him. Lovino turned sharply to look at him.

"You know Alfred?"

"But of course." The professor paused. "…His brother is one of my best students."

"His bro—?" Oh wait, Alfred had mentioned a brother. An older one, who looked a lot like him. So much so that they were mistaken for twins. "Wait, his brother is a student? How—?"

"I think a better question," Bonnefoy cut him off with a suggestive smile, "is how you know him? Is Alfred the mysterious date you are rendezvousing with~?"

Lovino colored. "It's not a fucking date!"

Bonnefoy's smile only widened, and he started giggling just like Feliciano had. Lovino resisted the desire to punch him in the mouth. Professors should not be allowed to behave like this, dammit; it was harassment. As he was suppressing his violent urges, Bonnefoy brushed past him and sauntered straight up to Alfred. Lovino watched as Alfred looked up and greeted the man with a smile. They started speaking, though he couldn't hear what they were talking about.

Bonnefoy looked concerned, while Alfred kept shaking his head, smile growing smaller and smaller until it was replaced with a frown. They do know each other, Lovino realized. Bonnefoy knows. That Alfred is homeless.

For some reason, this pissed him off. The idiot should be smiling, dammit.

"Oi, bastard!" he called out, approaching the two. Alfred started and met his gaze—and immediately a huge grin broke out across his face (much better).

"Lovi!" he answered, as if he hadn't been called by an expletive.

Bonnefoy was suddenly all smiles again. " 'Lovi' is it?" he asked. "What a cute nickname~"

"Isn't it?" Alfred replied cheerfully.

Lovino flushed and scowled. "Go away, pervert, you weren't invited."

"Of course, of course. I do not want to interrupt your date."

"It's not—" Lovino started, then gave up and slapped his hand over his face in an attempt to hide his persistent blush.

"We're just friends, Francis, really," Alfred said with a laugh. "I mean, we haven't even known each other that long."

"Is that so? Still, you have great potential!"

"Potential?" Lovino ventured, fairly certain he was not going to like what Bonnefoy was implying.

"To be lovers, of course! Ohonhon~"

"Okay, that's it. Leave now, you pervert, before I kick you in the balls. That's the only warning you're going to get."

Bonnefoy immediately started backing away, but that lecherous grin was still there.

"Alfred, mon cher, if you never remember anything I've taught you, at least remember to take your date somewhere nicer than those fast food places you frequent, oui?" With a wink, he left.

Lovino stared after him, feeling vaguely violated, until he heard Alfred mutter, "I wasn't planning on fast food, jeez. Have a little faith, Francis." Seeing the expression on Lovino's face, he added hastily, "I mean, I know it's not a date, but—"

"You call him Francis?" he interrupted. Alfred blinked.

"Um, yeah?"

"And he lets you?"

"Sure. It's not like I'm one of his students or anything so I don't have to call him Professor."

Lovino snorted. "I don't call him Professor, either, but I definitely don't call him by his first name."

Alfred stood up, brushing at the seat of his jeans. "Why don't you call him Professor?"

"Because he's creepy and a sex offender and doesn't deserve being called by a respected title."

This seemed to amuse Alfred. "Aw, he's not that bad. And I'm pretty sure he's not a sex offender."

"Like I believe that. Where are we going, anyway?"

Alfred pointed towards the center of campus. "I was thinking that coffee place in the student center. They take cash, right?"

"Yeah, they do," Lovino confirmed. "Well good, because I left my coffee behind when I ran out of my dorm to come here. Dammit, I hope Feliciano thinks to turn the pot off. Hang on."

They started walking towards the student center, side by side. Alfred hummed inanely as he waited for Lovino to send his brother a text message about the coffeepot.

"I thought maybe you weren't coming," Alfred said when he stuck his phone back in his pocket.

"Not…? Oh, that. Um." He suddenly felt guilty. The reason he's been late was that he'd flat out forgotten they were meeting, but of course he couldn't say that. "Well I cut it pretty close when I left," he explained (understatement), "and then I got stopped by Bonnefoy, so yeah, I was late. Sorry."

"No worries! It was only like ten minutes or something."

Ten? More like twenty.

"I asked someone for the time a little bit before you showed up, and they said that it was 3:40," Alfred explained further at Lovino's confused expression.

Either that person's watch was wrong or Alfred had a lousy sense of time keeping. Whatever, it worked out for Lovino.

"Oh. Well here I am."

"Yep!" Alfred beamed, like it was the luckiest thing that had ever happened to him. This made Lovino's stomach feel a little funny, so he looked away.

"Of course, the coffee there is not that great. Cheap crap made by incompetent idiots," he muttered.

"Is it really that bad?" Alfred looked worried. Several things suddenly clicked into place in Lovino's mind, making him want to bang his head against a wall.

Alfred was homeless. Bonnefoy's mention of fast food and the fact that Alfred wanted to make sure the place took cash…

"Well no," he amended, trying not to be too obvious. "It's decent. But I'm Italian."

This made the blond smile again. "And Italians are super picky when it comes to coffee? I thought that was just a stereotype."

Lovino schooled his face into a serious expression. "You haven't lived until you've had coffee made by an Italian."

Alfred laughed, and Lovino decided that whatever that persistent fluttering feeling in his stomach was would not be going away any time soon, and he should just try and enjoy this not-date as much as he could in spite of it.

Cheap coffee, it turned out, wasn't so bad when someone else was there drinking it with him. When Alfred was there, to be more specific.

Lovino had never been much of a people person, and he hadn't understood what was so great about it anyway, but spending time with a friend like this was just…really nice.

And he'd learned some things about Alfred, as well. Mostly small details, such as the fact that the blond hated tea with a passion. Alfred had actually babbled on for ten minutes, very loudly, about why tea was so gross, insulting all the tea drinkers in the shop and earning their table several dirty looks. Lovino had to hide his smile by drinking more of the cheap coffee.

Alfred would occasionally offer information about himself like that—completely out of the blue and with no concern with whether it was serious or not. For instance, when Lovino had commented on the blue Transformers T-shirt he was wearing, Alfred had proudly declared it was his favorite out of the three shirts he owned; he also had a red Doctor Who shirt and a plain white T. Because "red, white and blue are the best colors ever!" according to Alfred.

When Lovino asked where he kept his other possessions, Alfred had hedged and said, "In a bag, Lovi, duh," and changed the subject. It seemed he had no problem volunteering that kind of fact, but didn't like being asked questions.

Which was just fine by Lovino, of course; the idiot seemed to be doing well enough. He at least had enough money to spare on coffee.

Lovino also found himself talking about his own life. Alfred was a surprisingly good listener, which was nice since most people told him to calm down and stop ranting. He wasn't RANTING, though—not all the time at least—he was just very passionate about things. And, okay, maybe he was kind of easily excitable. That was fine, too, because so was Alfred.

When Lovino had mentioned his random fascination with Swedish music, Alfred had gasped dramatically. The entire store and probably all the patrons sitting outside, as well, must have heard his exuberant, "Me too!" and they had proceeded to have a very loud debate over the merits of classic ABBA versus newer musicians like Nanne Gronvall and Movits! Alfred had flashed him a mischievous grin which, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, had to be one of the most attractive facial expressions he'd ever seen on anybody. But then the idiot had said the word 'Caramell' and Lovino was forced to try and kill the (attractive) bastard with a paper napkin—for the good of humanity.

It was the most fun he'd had in a long time.

Somehow they ended up spending two hours there. It was almost six when Feliciano called, crying about the coffeepot, which had somehow managed to explode while he was gone. Alfred had been able to hear his brother's loud wailing, and jerked his head towards the door with a questioning expression. Lovino nodded, simultaneously standing and trying to calm Feliciano down over the phone. He didn't want to leave, but God knows Feliciano would probably hurt himself somehow if he didn't get back soon.

"I told you to turn it off," he complained. "Didn't you read your texts?

"Ve, well, no…Ludwig came over so I didn't think to…"

"You invited that bastard into our dorm room!"

He heard a telltale laugh from beside him and reached out without looking to shove Alfred sideways. Annoyingly, it didn't seem to have much effect. Even more annoying was the fact that Alfred's bicep, where his hand had landed for said shoving attempt, felt really nice. He tried to refocus on Feliciano, and not the blond boy walking beside him.

Feliciano started on a fresh round of tearful apologies, causing Lovino to pull his phone away from his ear as he waited for a break.

"You don't have to walk me back, you know," he muttered to Alfred. The other just grinned in return.

"It's no problem, Lovi. Besides, I don't have anywhere else I'd rather be."

Lovino blushed. He was making a reference to being homeless, he told himself, not saying he really wants to be near me. It was self-deprecating humor, not a love confession, dammit.

He picked up his pace a little bit, seeing his dorm come into view with the campus police parked out front.

"I'll be there in a second, fratello, just calm down," he said, and snapped his phone shut.

"Hey Lovi," Alfred said from behind him. He turned, surprised, to see that the younger man had stopped a few feet back.

"So I couldn't help overhearing…"

Lovino snorted.

"…your coffeemaker is broken?"

"Yeah. Completely kaput. Should've known better than to trust Feliciano to turn it off."

"I guess that means you'll need to get coffee from somewhere else for a while, huh? Until you get a new one?"

Lovino had a feeling he knew where this was going. And it was kind of a nice feeling.

"I guess so," he confirmed.

"I know university coffee shops aren't up to Italian standards and all, but I was thinking we could get some…together. Sometime. Sometimes."

And fuck if Alfred didn't look all adorable and hopeful like that and aaaaaaargh. Those big blue eyes could end up being the death of him.

"Sounds good," he said.

"Great!" Alfred was beaming again. This time when he moved forward, Lovino was expecting it; as Alfred caught him up in a huge hug, he cautiously hugged back.

And it was really nice. Shiiiiiiit. Come on! You've only met with him three times!

"All right, bastard, let go of me. I gotta go check on Feliciano."

"'Kay!"

Alfred released him and, with one more smile, left.

Lovino stood, eyes closed and breathing deeply, trying to calm himself.

Like that ever worked.

"Goddammit!" he screeched. Then he turned and headed for the dorm.

That night, Lovino tossed and turned just as he had that afternoon. He was in trouble. Even more trouble than he'd already been in. Somehow he'd gotten the blame for the coffeemaker explosion (so what if he was technically the one who'd left it on? He'd told Feliciano to turn the damn thing off). Needless to say, the campus police were not pleased when they evacuated the building only to find the remains of an Italian coffeemaker rather than a bomb, as the noise had led them to believe it was. The other students living in the dorm weren't thrilled, either.

Luckily there wasn't any damage to the room itself, but the dean was sure to have heard about it by the next day, which meant more uncomfortable meetings and angry reprimands in his office. Fuck, like he didn't already have enough to deal with.

But that wasn't the only reason he was in trouble. Oh no.

I find Alfred attractive. I find him ridiculously attractive. Worse, he actually seems to like me.

Truth be told, Lovino didn't interact with many people on a daily basis. There was his brother, some of the professors, and the dean…but nobody like Alfred, who he could just hang out with (his brother was seemingly attached at the hip to the potato bastard—the traitor).

So yeah, Alfred was attractive and really nice but fuck he couldn't just fall for the first guy to pay a bit of attention to him, that would just be…

Pathetic.

Lovino contemplated trying to smother himself with his pillow. God, he was pathetic. Alfred wouldn't think so, a sly voice in the back of his mind told him. He'd probably say you're amazing, and I bet he'd be sad if you tried to suffocate yourself. Lovino opted to throw his pillow at the opposite wall with a frustrated growl.

Okay. So maybe he was starting to get a teeny tiny crush on Alfred. No big deal. He could handle it. Alfred was three years younger and homeless; no way would he let himself fall seriously for someone like that.

You barely know him you barely know him you barely know him, he chanted in his head. The problem was, he felt like he did know Alfred. Damn friendly idiot.

"But I don't know him," he groaned, aloud this time. He heard Feliciano shift in the bunk below him at the noise. Oops.

Lovino rolled over and pulled the blanket up over his head.

He remembered earlier, when Francis had seen Alfred. He'd realized that the French teacher's teasing was actually a deflection—and a very successful one, at that. So how did those two know each other?

"I don't know him," he repeated in a whisper to the dark space under the covers.

A/N: Ended on a bit of a low note there, but no worries. It seems like every chapter I write I end up putting in things I'll need to explain later. I actually am keeping a list…it includes things like who Ivan is, why Lovino seems to know the dean so well, and of course Alfred's backstory…

Also, Lovino's statement about Italian-made coffee? Totally true. It is heavenly.

And about the Swedish music. I'm sure everyone is familiar with ABBA, but Nanne Gronvall was the singer of the 2005 Melodifestoven entry which I love with a passion. It gained some fame in the anime fandoms when it was used in an award-winning AMV for Princess Tutu. Seriously, go look up "Håll om mig" and tell me that's not epic. Also, the Movits! were featured on the Colbert Report. I recommend "Äppelknyckarjazz" and "Fel del av gården." Caramell is the band who originally made "Caramelldansen." Yeah.

Plus, if you like some North American brothers, go read everything by Positively. It's amazing.