Author's Notes : Originally, this was about nine pages long, but I decided to split it up again for the sake of spacing. I'm not 100% certain about the lemon I have written, so I'd still like the opportunity to look it over. To all of my lovely reviewers—thank you! I hope this chapter meets your expectations. To Cifer10, I hope you're doing better. :)

Spend My Time Dancing

Antonio & Lovino

An Equal Playing Field

I ebb and you flow. It's a...
A bit screwed but you can't catch my love.

Tino smiled brightly from his place behind the bar top. He always could spot the new ones.

Which was good, because Berwald and Matthias, however well-intentioned, tended to frighten them, and Matthew tended to be frightened of them.

That, and the Finn was a close enough friend to a certain fiery Italian to recognize the easygoing Spaniard when he spilled everything but his blood type out on the counter without downing a single drink. (That last bit was lacking, he was told, because Antonio could never seem to remember it.)

Tino giggled again as Antonio 'Ooh'ed and 'Ahh'ed at the amount of time he and his boyfriend had been together.

Lovino hadn't been kidding. The man really was incredibly genuine. It was easy enough to read him—he was nervous, but he wasn't about to pawn it off on anyone else. Huono vauva.

"What about you, Antonio? Are you here with anyone?"

"Ah. Si, with my friends, Gilbert and Francis. They brought me here to cheer me up...but Gilbert's probably hiding in the bathroom, or something."

It was a testament to Tino's acting skills that he managed to hide his wince. Instead, he pressed on, "Were you rejected? That's hard to believe."

That deflated the man a bit, "He's got a mean kick to him, too." He rubbed his hip absently, and Tino made the jump, "Every time I open my mouth, it just pisses him off."

"Oh?"

He didn't spot the conspiratorial look the blond shot over his shoulder, so he slumped a bit more, sinking deeper into his little funk. Weren't bartenders supposed to make you feel better?

"Something to drink, Roma?"

Slender arms draped over the Spaniard's shoulders, and a delicate breath brushed past his ear, "Multiple Orgasms."

"Two?"

"We'll see."

For a second, Lovino was sure he'd broken the man. He stayed close, brushing against the bigger body as he slid into the neighboring bar stool, half an eye on the dirty little smirk Tino shot him as he readied their drinks.

A few more pronounced owlish blinks, and Antonio regained the capacity for human speech, 'winning' the Italian's attention, "L...Lovi?"

"Mmmmhm." Equal parts sleepy and suggestive.

The intended message? 'It's about time I got to bed. Can I share yours?'

But this was San Antonio, patron saint of the oblivious. There was no way he'd just suddenly become fluent in body language. ...Maybe Lovino had scrambled it a little too much with all those shots to the balls.

"Lovi? Are you okay? You look tired."

"Do I? I've been dancing a lot." With other men. Lots of other men. With biceps bigger than yours.

Antonio nodded, "Taking a water break, then. Or a...uh..." His eyebrows furrowed, raising that adorable little ridge just between his eyes as he wrestled with the memory of Little Lovino wrapping his mouth around...

"Quickie?"

The Spaniard coughed, but his companion didn't move, keeping his chin propped on one fist, leaning against the bar with his lithe body on display. If Antonio had been able to process it, he might have noticed the catty flutter of the other man's eyelashes.

Tino was a bit more observant, smothering a snort in his arm before setting their glasses before them. "Two Multiple Orgasms. Have fun."

"Gracias." Antonio raised his glass to toast the departing blonde before taking a careful sip...and choking on it. "Hey, what—? Lovi, there's alcohol in these!"

For his part, Lovino was far less hesitant to wrap himself up in his drink. He watched the soccer captain over the rim of his glass, savoring a mouthful before a swallow, a sigh, "Two cl each orange liquer and Bailey's. Not your thing?"

"Not your thing! It doesn't matter what kind of alcohol, you're under 21!" Antonio looked genuinely distressed, as if he were trying to talk his underclassman down from a ledge.

Of all the times to get wise.

"You're on the soccer team, genius. You really have a problem with underage drinking?"

"For you, yes! You're in public, in a place like this!" He waved a hand out toward the sensory mass on the dance floor, "Dressed like...with a face like...and you're so small, Lovi. It's as if..."

"I'm asking for it?"

Antonio's face was flushed, now, and Lovino didn't bother getting angry about the 'small' comment. The man looked as if he might break down and cry if he couldn't get the right words out.

"You don't need to ask for anything, Lovi. Not here, by yourself. You always look so lonely..."

"Whose fault is that, huh? You follow me around, talking about my calves and how perfect I am—for soccer. When I picture us in the locker room, Toni, the rest of the team isn't there, we don't have any clothes on, and I'm anything but lonely."

There was a moment of silence while Lovino took a few more sips of liquid courage and Antonio's brain struggled to catch up.

"So," He continued, gaze fixed somewhere amongst the bottles lining the wall, "Still wanna play with me, Toni?"

"Oh, hell yes."

Lovino had been expecting pretty much anything but that...which is why he nearly turned his ankle when Antonio hauled him off the bar stool and straight for the exit.

Under any other circumstances, Lovino would have eviscerated anyone who tried to take his keys with nothing more than his heavy boots, but this time he was quite partial to being manhandled.

Which was why it was an awful lot like mood whiplash when Antonio set him down gently in the entryway, toed off his shoes and socks, and double-timed to the kitchen.

Lovino blinked after the departing Spaniard, not quite getting what was going on. After a moment or two, he followed on quiet feet, finding himself in a well-appointed kitchen with a frazzled host.

He moved closer, standing just before the man who was barely holding himself up by the edge of his cold stone countertop and waiting.

"I, uh...you want a popsicle?"

Lovino's brows arched in complete disbelief, but the expression quickly dissolved, giving way to raucous, teary-eyed laughter. He pressed his face into the material at Antonio's shoulder, wrapping his arms around the man in a hug as he rode out the shakes.

For his part, Antonio smiled awkwardly, patting the younger man on the back once or twice before running one calloused palm down the soft slope of his back, the other resting on one bared hip. "...You, uh...you go out like this a lot?"

Lovino pulled away, tears still blotting and streaking over his cheeks as he tried to rein in his giggling. He reached up with one hand to smear away a stray tear before matching bright green with bright green. "Maybe. You go out like this a lot?"

He plucked at the fabric with nimble fingers, and the hurt look on Antonio's face nearly set him off again, "What's wrong with my jersey?"

"Besides the whole 'fantasy fodder' thing? Ever heard of Jonny McGovern?"

"Jonny-who?"

"'The Gay Pimp'." He snickered a little before calming down again, "Screw it. It doesn't matter. You're taking it off, anyway."

"I am?"

"I've had wet dreams about your abs. Fuck yes, you're taking it off."

Sneaky fingers weaseled their way underneath the fabric of Antonio's jersey, managing to hike the fabric up an inch or two before a larger pair of hands settled on top of them, "You're pretty forward tonight."

"...Think of it from my point of view. I've liked you since the first time I saw you play. Every day, you smile at me and compliment me, but you're looking at my 'muscle tone'. Which is nice, I guess, but how long would you really wanna share the showers with a fairy like me?"

Warm thumbs rubbed over the backs of his hands, and Antonio smiled down...like he was blessing him. "That's a tough question, Lovi. It depends: what would you do in the showers?"

One hand slid slowly down, releasing the smaller man's fingers in favor of the hollow at his lower back, dipping teasingly down into the small space left by his fashionably tight pants.

"Auh-mmm," He sighed at the delicate touch, allowing a small, satisfied smile as he tilted his face up, inviting a pair of hot, chapped lips onto his own.

That large hand crept down further, smoothing over his backside and tickling at the tender spot where bottom met thigh. Lovino laughed into the liplock, opening his mouth for Antonio to slip his tongue inside, mapping the taste of alcohol, cream, and strawberries.

It was comforting, now that he didn't need to worry about anyone mistreating his fascinating (if foul-mouthed) schoolmate. The contact was lazy, and would almost be relaxing if not for the slow, steady burn it was building in Antonio's belly.

He opened his eyes as he pulled away, pressing a light kiss to Lovino's lower lip, now red and glossy with saliva. He stayed close enough to feel the breeze from between those lips hazing over his cheek, examining just how vulnerable the little spitfire looked with his eyes closed.

"And I thought your smiling face was hot."

Those sharp green eyes fluttered open at the hot whisper, "Madonna..."

"So quiet. I should kiss you more often."

"Just kissing?" Plump lips twisted into a smirk and slim fingers released their hold on Antonio's jersey, sliding towards the lower hemline, "Where's your imagination?"

It was a rhetorical question. Which was good, because Antonio came up empty when the other man yanked him forward by the front of his belt line.

Lovino made quick work of the fly of Antonio's jeans, dropping to his knees as he tugged them and the underpants down around the man's perfectly-toned thighs.

"Lovino..." Antonio sighed, one hand reaching down to tangle in soft reddish-brown hair as the other settled on his shoulder, "You don't have to..."

"But captain...I want to." Big green doe eyes glanced up from underneath feathery lashes, and warm breath ghosted over a near fully-hard erection. Before that hot mouth even touched him, Antonio was groaning.

This was going to be fun.

Translations:

Huono vauva means 'Poor baby' in Finnish.

Madonna – Self-explanatory. It's a lot like saying, 'Oh my G-d.'

A/N:

The song featured in this chapter is "May Day" by Unkle, featuring The Duke Spirit.

Before anyone starts complaining—yes, they are becoming intimate quite rapidly. I feel that any more emphasis on the fact that both of them are already interested would be overkill.

Also—not everything begins with vows of undying love.

o.o