(A/N: Well, it's been almost ten months. I am afraid you were all grossly misled last time when I said the next update would be soon. You are all awesome and deserve better, but this time I am reasonably sure you'll be seeing an update soon (no longer than a month away, I promise. If it looks like I'm going to break that promise please feel free to message me and bother me until I do). Just as a heads up to those of you following me for Hetalia, the next one or two fics posted will probably be Supernatural fics, because I already have one short one written and also I'm signed up for Sassy Week 2.0 on tumblr. On the other hand! I got another Romerica fic idea. So, look forward to it I guess?)

Translations:

-Benvenuti…welcome

-Idiota…idiot

-Perfetto…perfect

-Che?...What?

-Mi piaci di brutto!...I like you too much! (di brutto is an interesting piece of slang, as it is sometimes translated as "like hell" or "like mad"—appropriate for Lovino)

-A più tardi …see you later (man there are lots of ways to say this in Italian)

TALA 6

Feliciano was gone when they got to the dorm room, having left a sticky note on the door saying he'd run over to the potato-bastard's place. Oddly enough, Lovino was okay with this.

"Well," he said, "this is it. Benvenuti."

Alfred peered around the room, without moving from his spot just inside the door. "It's nice," he said, kind of quietly—for Alfred, at least. It seemed almost like he was being shy.

"Why don't you try actually coming in first before you tell me that?"

"I am in," Alfred protested half-heartedly. But he shuffled a little further into the room. Lovino rolled his eyes and grabbed his hand, pulling him in completely and kicking the door shut behind him. Alfred stared down at their joined hands for a moment. "Thanks for inviting me," he mumbled.

Still so quiet. Lovino frowned. "Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I'll make the coffee."

"Roger." Alfred saluted with his free hand. He reluctantly untangled their fingers and edged towards the living area of the dorm room as Lovino headed for the kitchen area.

"Where should I sit?"

"It's not like there are that many choices, bastard. The settee or either of the desk chairs. Hell, sit on the bed if you want to. The bottom bunk is Feliciano's, though."

Lovino spun abruptly, planting his hands on his hips and glaring. "And don't you even think about sitting on the floor. The furniture isn't about to eat you or anything."

Alfred froze with a slightly guilty expression, then slowly sank onto the swivel chair at Lovino's desk.

"Idiota." He turned back to start on the coffee.

"I think I saw a movie like that once," Alfred said after a moment. "Furniture. Eating people."

"You're kidding," was his incredulous reply. "What kind of movies are you watching?"

"It was one of those movies on the Syfy channel. Except I saw it before they changed the spelling to s-y-f-y."

Lovino snorted. "The Syfy channel. Figures you'd watch that, geek."

"But Lovi!" Alfred whined. The pout was audible in his voice. "Sci-fi movies are awesome! Although, sometimes the movies on the Syfy channel? Not so much."

"I could have guessed that, what with the carnivorous furniture."

"Haha, good point!"

Lovino smiled to himself, glad his guest was finally relaxing.

"There's gotta be at least one sci-fi movie you like," Alfred prompted.

"I liked the one with the robot," he shrugged. That one managed to get a full laugh.

"Bit more specific?" Alfred asked as Lovino poured out two cups of coffee. He turned to see Alfred grinning.

Schooling his face into a blank expression, Lovino crossed the room, coming to a halt directly in front of the chair. He held out the cup and said very seriously, "I'm sorry, Alfred. I'm afraid I can't do that."

Alfred's eyes lit up. "2001: A Space Odyssey!" he exclaimed. "I knew you'd have good taste."

"Naturally," Lovino said, a bit smugly. He pulled Feliciano's chair out to sit in and sipped at his drink.

That seemed to remind Alfred of his own cup. He looked down at it. "Do I need to do anything to this, or…?"

"Of course not," he dismissed with a wave. "It's perfetto as is."

Alfred nodded decisively, and then took his first sip.

And immediately put the cup down.

"Oh man," he said.

Lovino blinked, not entirely sure what this reaction was. "Che?" he asked.

"Lovi, I am sooo sorry."

"About…what?"

"I made you go to all those campus coffee places!" Alfred looked horrified with himself.

"Well I was hardly going for the coffee, was I?"

Alfred opened his mouth to protest again before he suddenly appeared to absorb his companion's words. "Oh," he said.

It felt nice not to be the one blushing, for once.

"Drink your coffee," he ordered.

Alfred picked up the cup reverently.

"I can make more, you know."

"You're amazing," Alfred said, like it was a fact. He took another sip, expression blissful. "So…" he said, suddenly amused. "What did you make of the ending?"

Lovino groaned. "Oh God, Kubrick."

They discussed Kubrick as a director and as a writer, then moved on to other strange movie endings. When they had finished debating the meaning of the abrupt ending of Vanishing Point, Lovino felt Alfred had finally relaxed enough for him to ask, "So why the phobia of my furniture, bastard?"

"Oh…that. It's just, um, been a while since I've been invited somewhere. And actually went."

Lovino took a moment to look the boy over. He was wearing his dark red Doctor Who T-shirt today, and jeans that were a size or two too big for him. Rumpled, but not too dirty. His sneakers were ratty and needed new shoelaces; he could see where one lace had frayed into two pieces, only for Alfred to tie them back together. He obviously didn't have anything in his pockets—no wallet or cell phone. Alfred himself looked kind of…worn down, now that he looked closely. He was too skinny. His hair was lank and needed to be cut. There was dirt under his fingernails and smudged across his nose under his glasses. As a matter of fact, his glasses seemed to be the most cared-for part of Alfred's person.

He did say his vision was horrible without them. And glasses are expensive.

And God but he wanted to keep him. He wanted to feed him and buy him new clothes and make him sleep on his expensive mattress. To give him a home.

But there was no way Alfred would accept that. The kid had a stubborn streak of pride that kept him from "taking charity," which was bullshit, in Lovino's opinion—to refuse help from people who cared about him.

But Alfred was sure to balk if Lovino did anything like that, so he'd have to think smaller.

"Dinner," he said musingly.

Alfred started, suddenly looking skittish again.

"Um, I don't think I can stay for dinner."

"Pasta," Lovino continued as though he hadn't heard him. Alfred's expression morphed into one of scowling annoyance. It seemed so out of place on his face that Lovino was almost—almost —dissuaded.

"Lemme guess—it's 'for my own good,' right?" Alfred demanded.

Normally this kind of behavior would have set him off, but Lovino kept his cool and simply said, "No, for your education. Now that you've had Italian-made coffee, you have to have Italian-made pasta."

Alfred opened his mouth again, probably to say something stupid, so Lovino reached out and clapped his hands to the sides of the other's face.

"Alfredo," he said loudly.

Alfred blinked. "Wha?"

"I'm making alfredo. Chicken alfredo, I think." He narrowed his eyes. "Whether you like it or not."

Alfred stared at him, studying his face. Lovino guessed he was looking for any trace of pity, but all he felt was worry and protectiveness. He wanted Alfred safe and happy.

And well-fed, dammit.

Alfred's shoulders slumped as he smiled sheepishly. "Oh," he said. "I'm being rude, huh?"

"You're lucky you're cute," Lovino agreed with a nod.

He ended up making a quadruple serving of chicken alfredo in the hallway kitchen. Alfred had questioned the amount of food doubtfully, but Lovino brushed it off by saying, "Americans eat a lot, don't they?" Alfred had seemed relieved for the excuse to eat as much as he wanted, and seeing him so content after he'd eaten his fill slightly loosened the knot of worried tension in Lovino's stomach (that he was starting to realize was going to be a constant so long as Alfred was still homeless). He wondered if this was how Kirkland and the others felt.

Alfred volunteered to do dishes in one of the tiny sinks in the hallway bathroom, and Lovino let him without too much protest. He directed Alfred in putting the dishes and utensils back in their correct places before breaking out the biscotti tin and asking, "Movie?" He even let Alfred pick out a DVD, because he was a nice guy like that, dammit.

"Oh my God you have Blue Velvet!"

"Of course I have Blue Velvet; Isabella Rossellini is in it."

"This is like a cult hit in Europe, right? I think Francis said that when I first watched it with him."

Lovino made a face. "You watched Blue Velvet with Bonnefoy?"

Alfred just laughed. "He's not that bad, I promise."

"Sure," Lovino said doubtfully. "Are we watching this or not?"

"You don't mind watching it again?" asked Alfred, even as he was already opening the case, crouched in front of the DVD player.

"It's been a while since I've seen it," he answered, collapsing into his brother's chair. It rolled backwards a bit. "Feliciano's taste in movies is…well, not quite as refined as mine."

"Picky," Alfred murmured quietly.

"Shut up, bastard."

Alfred pushed the DVD in and scrambled back to his own chair. He looked over to grin excitedly at Lovino. It was too cute, so Lovino shoved a biscotto at his face. Alfred latched onto it with his front teeth and broke off a bite.

"Man, these are awesome!"

Lovino nodded. "A family friend makes them. Amata."

"Wow. I'm starting to think Italians are the best at everything."

"Our culinary prowess is unmatched," Lovino agreed. He narrowed his eyes. "No matter what the French bastard tells you."

Alfred laughed.

The menu screen popped up, so Lovino jumped to get hit the lights before pressing play. When he returned to his seat Alfred scooted closer, explaining, "Uh, some parts of this movie are kinda creepy," when Lovino raised his eyebrows. Huh. It seemed Alfred was easily frightened when it came to movies. He stored this information away for later.

Of course, 'later' turned out to be as soon as the movie ended, when Alfred asked if he had any Kubrick.

"Most of my collection's at home, actually. The only two I have here are Dr. Strangelove and The Shining."

"No Russians!" was the vehement response.

So they ended up watching the horror movie.

Alfred started shaking within the first ten minutes—nothing had even happened yet—so Lovino coaxed him up onto the top bunk, where they sat under the blankets with their sides pressed together. Alfred passed out right after the ending, apparently exhausted from being terrified.

Lovino was having more trouble drifting off. Namely because of the boy next to him, sharing his bed with one arm thrown over his waist and his feet tangled with his own.

Of course he's a cuddler, he thought, feeling an odd mix of elation and despair.

The movie scared him, so he wants to be close to someone, he tried telling himself. But God help him…he wanted it to be on purpose. For Alfred to hold him because he—

"Mi piaci di brutto!" he whispered.

Lovino buried his face in his pillow and counted to one thousand nine hundred and seventeen in Italian before he fell asleep.

Alfred jolted awake at some ungodly hour in the morning, which dragged a reluctant and grumpy Lovino from his slumber and into the too-bright world of the living.

"Fucking Christ," he mumbled blearily. Alfred was squirming beside him, seemingly trying to disentangle himself from the blankets. "Bastard, what the hell are you doing?"

"Didn't mean to stay the night," Alfred muttered, still fighting valiantly against the bedding.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Seriously? Just go back to sleep; it's too early for this."

"But I didn't mean to—"

"Stay the night, yeah. I heard you the first time. You sound like someone who accidentally fell asleep at a one-night stand's place when you meant to leave in the middle of the night without even a note."

Alfred paused, this comparison apparently weird enough to make him stare at Lovino oddly.

"But—" he said finally. He wasn't wriggling around anymore, thank the Lord. "I shouldn't—I can't make a habit of it."

"So don't. Whatever."

Alfred just continued to stare at him, and he sighed. "Is this because of the whole homeless thing?" Lovino asked. "It's not like it's the one thing that defines you, you know. Not everything has to be about that."

Alfred was giving him a different sort of look now, one Lovino couldn't quite parse. It made his stomach feel strange and his head feel light, so he flopped back down and repeated, "Too early for this. Go back to sleep."

Alfred lay down.

Lovino was almost asleep when he felt Alfred put his arm back over him. He cuddled closer and hid his smile in Alfred's shoulder because, fuck it, it was too early in the morning to care about anything else.

"It's a Thursday; he doesn't have class until two."

"Ve, that's right! I always forget."

Someone is talking about me, Lovino thought sleepily. Two someones.

"I believe he works in the library today as well."

Now someone I don't like is talking about me.

"The fuck is the potato bastard doing in our dorm room?" he demanded, sitting up. A quick glance at the clock told him it was eleven thirty. All three other occupants of the room were standing on the floor beside the bed.

Feliciano pouted up at him. "Don't be mean, Romano! You brought your boyfriend over; why can't I bring Ludwig?"

Lovino flushed scarlet. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"We're just friends," Alfred confirmed with a slightly nervous laugh.

Feliciano and Ludwig looked at each other, clearly skeptical. Of course, Lovino realized, when they'd come on they would've seen him and Alfred curled up together. In the same bunk. Fuck.

"If you say so," Feliciano replied doubtfully.

Ludwig cleared his throat. "I'm afraid I have to leave for class now."

"Too bad," Lovino sneered.

"Why would you take a class right at lunchtime?" Feliciano asked. The pout was back.

Ludwig almost-smiled and leaned down to kiss Feliciano on the cheek. "I'll be back to walk you to your history class, alright?"

"Okay!"

Lovino waited until he'd left to remark, "Well, at least you have the kraut well-trained."

"Yep!" his brother enthused. "He's finally started to be okay with showing affection in public!"

For some reason Alfred was smiling at them, amusement clear on his face.

"You staying for lunch, bastard?" Lovino asked. Alfred seemed to consider it, but shook his head.

"Not this time." It was almost a promise, and it made Lovino smile.

Alfred gave him another look, reminiscent of the one from the night before. He was biting his lip with a considering expression, but eventually he just said, "I'll probably stop in at the library later, okay?"

"Okay." Alfred stopped in every time he worked in the library.

Alfred hesitated a moment longer. "A più tardi," he said, and then he was gone.

"Romano…what exactly do you know about him?" Feliciano asked after a moment.

"Not this again," he groaned. "Alfred's a really nice guy, I don't need to worry about him being a psycho killer or something."

"But shouldn't you know something about his past?" Feliciano questioned fretfully. "It's just kind of strange—"

"Look, all I need to know about Alfred is that he's my friend now. If he doesn't want to talk about whatever shit he did years and years ago, it's his own business."

"Not big dark secrets," persisted Feliciano. "Just where he's from. I know Ludwig went to school in Germany and he transferred to a private high school here to live with his brother when he got the teaching job."

Lovino scowled. "That's not a big deal—"

"Exactly! It's not a big deal." He looked at him, sincerity shining in his eyes. "I just want you to be safe."

"…Alright," Lovino conceded grudgingly. "I'll see what I can do and report back to you. Happy?"

"Yes!" Feliciano smiled and gave him a quick salute. "I'll start on lunch!"

"'Kay."

Well, he was curious. But there was no way he'd get anything out of Alfred. He was going to need an alternative source of information.

And I know just who to ask.

(A/N: Boom.

So I'm sure you all know, Amata is from Educating America.

All other references were movie references, so here's what you need to know: 2001: A Space Odyssey and Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb and The Shining are all movies directed by Stanley Kubrick, as well as others like A Clockwork Orange and Full Metal Jacket. The ending of 2001 is super weird. SUPER weird; Dr. Strangelove involves Russia and mutually assured destruction, which is why Alfred said 'no Russians.' The Shining is based on a Stephen King novel. The reason Lovi was kinda squicked about watching Blue Velvet with Francis is because it has some weird kinky sex stuff in it, and Lovi is under the impression that Bonnefoy is a super pervert. According to my dad, it was very popular (in an underground kind of way) in Europe. Let's see…Vanishing Point is another weird movie which indeed has a very abrupt (and unsatisfying, IMO) ending. These are all movies that my dad forced me to watch with him (with the exception of The Shining, which I watched myself because I'd read the book). So basically you're getting a glimpse of my dad's taste in movies.

One last thing—I can't really come out and say what Alfred is thinking since I'm doing third person limited with a focus on Lovi's point of view…which is very frustrating sometimes. That's why there's a lot of Alfred 'seeming' to feel something, because Lovino is interpreting his emotions himself instead of me describing them and breaking the POV. BUT, you should all know that just before Alfred left, he was considering copying Ludwig and kissing Lovino on the cheek and then offering to walk him to class. So yeah.

Soooo sorry for the wait, guys. You're all amazing for putting up with me.