Those times where Engmano saves your will to write.

This is a prequel to chapter 5. You know what that means?

SLUMBER PARTY~~!

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Sock-clad feet rushed around carpeted floors. Surfaces were wiped, and corners had been dusted. Glass tables and doors were swiped streak free, as every open window brought a wave of fresh air to replace the sharp stench of the apartment. Everything had to be presentable, because his boyfriend was coming over. To spend the whole night with him. Alone.

"It's just Lovino," he grumbled to himself. "Fucking calm down."

Sighing, Arthur drug himself to his bedroom. It was by far the messiest area, but not horribly so since he straightened up whenever he had the time. Still, he was putting it off because there was something about one's own room that just... You just don't want to clean it. His bed was a mess; the comforter was on the floor, the sheet was wadded in the middle, and a corner of the mattress was exposed. For some reason the blonde moved like crazy when he slept. At least, when he slept alone. If there were another person sleeping next to him, he would barely move throughout the whole night (or, morning).

The dresser was unorganized, and it's second to last drawer was still open. His assortment of jewelry and chains were in disarray, a tin he used to store his piercings about to fall off of the edge. A bookshelf sat in the corner, only the top quarter filled with books, the rest cluttered with a rainbow of different kinds of paints and art supplies. Shoes and a few articles of clothing tipped out from the open closet, and there were food wrappers and soda cans stacked precariously on his bedside table. Slumping his shoulders, Arthur got to work.

After what felt like an eternity, he was done. Sneezing, the man wiped his nose on his forearm, only causing more dust to disturb his senses. A shower was in order. Glancing at the clock, Arthur was surprised to see that he had plenty of time to get himself ready. Leisurely discarding his clothing, he gathered a towel and went into the bathroom. The he strode back out to throw the dirty clothes in his laundry basket. It was almost overflowing, but he hated doing laundry when it was so hot out. Well, he would have to suck it up and get it done sooner or later.

Though it was warm out, and even when it was unbearably sweltering, Arthur took hot showers. He liked to think that the water would cleanse him little by little. All of his misdeeds sweating from his pores, and being washed down the drain. It was asinine, he knew, but it wasn't like anyone would ever know. It gave him comfort, and he would not deny that of himself. He couldn't.

Stepping out, he patted himself down with the towel before fastening it around his waist. Above the sink the mirror was fogged, but he already knew that his skin was pink. The curse of being British. Digging through his drawers, the man found a worn Sherlock t-shirt, and a pair of Alfred's basketball shorts. They looked insanely appealing, and he did not dawdle with putting them on.

Back in the bathroom, Arthur wiped the dripping condensation from the mirror to examine himself. He did not think he was ugly, but he was not exactly someone who would be called handsome either. Even though a comb never tamed his hair, and his eyebrows could be thinner, and there was a small gap between his front teeth, he was not so bad. To himself, he would admit that he liked his eyes the best. They were the same unnatural green as his mothers, and when he was younger that convinced him that there was magic in the world.

With a bitter chuckle, he opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed his toothbrush. As he brushed, his eyes locked on to all of the unnoticeable holes in his face. From his brows to his chin, wherever he could stick a needle used to be filled with metal. Now he would only wear a few in his ears, and sometimes his snakebites when he went out to work on his graffiti. Other than that, the days of him being some ridiculous junkie were swept under the rug. These days the only things that decorated his face were a light dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks.

Debating on whether he should put in his earrings or not, he decided against it. Tonight was going to be a comfortable night spent with Lovino. But... he wondered what his boyfriend would think if he did put in all of his piercings. Probably be called a freak or something. Plus, a lot of the holes had closed some in the years without use, and the Briton did not feel like reopening them for such a trivial experiment.

Picking up his cell phone, he saw that his guest should be arriving soon. Walking to the kitchen, he filled his electric kettle (something he allowed himself to splurge on), and turned it on. Not sure if the Italian liked tea, it would still be impolite if he did not offer something. That's what he told himself, at least, when in reality he was getting antsy and needed something to do. This will be their longest time spent together yet, and Arthur hoped it would go well. He was afraid that he would become boring, or annoying to Lovino after a while. Or maybe they'll get into some petty fight, and the night would be ruined? If Lovino stormed out on him, it might break his heart.

Right in the middle of his pessimistic turmoil, there was a knock at his door. Startled a little, he stood still for a second before reacting. Padding to the door, he ran his fingers through his still damp hair. It would probably be messed up even more, but he could never find it in himself to care. Taking a deep, calming breath, he unlatched and opened the door.

Greeting the Brit was a sight he was met with many times. Deliciously tanned skin, perfect dark hair, and beautiful golden eyes that were attempting to find some sort of cryptic message in the landing's floor. "Hey," spoke Arthur, idly noticing the messenger bag slung over Lovino's shoulder. Obviously it was not filled with books or binders. It was fat, and plush. "How much did you bring? You're only staying the night."

Amber irises finally snapped up, and glared at Arthur's amused smirk. He scoffed. "It's not a sin to be prepared."

"Yes, my teeth and ambitions are bared."

"...What?"

"Scar?"

"...I don't have any scars?"

"From The Lion King, you dolt."

Once he understood the joke, Lovino's scowl emerged. Sticking his nose in the air, he pushed his way inside. "I'll push you over your damn balcony then."

"So you're taking the role of my uncle?"

"Shut up with the fucking Lion King crap!"

Laughing, Arthur secured his door and practically pranced to the brunette. From behind he draped his arms over small shoulders. Tilting his head, he gave a sweet kiss to hot cheeks. "I missed you."

Instantly, those shoulders relaxed, and Lovino leaned back into the embrace. "Missed you too."

Slowly, Arthur turned Lovino, the messenger bag falling to the floor as they stayed entwined. Lovino was warm and soft. It made the older man feel like a snake, and he wanted to coil around that heat. A smell wafted from him, and he subtly took it all in. Nice and earthy. With a minuscule smile, he leaned in and kissed the other. The Italian stilled for a moment, but kissed back.

Exchanging kisses was something Arthur adored. Because his boyfriend always carried around a stick of lip balm, they were always so soft and healthy. They had never gone beyond the simple lips on lips, but he could not really complain. It was always fantastic, and Lovino was a natural. Moving at just the right pace and applying just the right amount of pressure.

With an air of contentedness, the other pulled back. He always halted first. His hands were wrapped loosely around Arthur's waist, knuckles resting on his tailbone. "So, what do you have planned for tonight?" A devious smirk crossed the Brit's face, and it took a moment for Lovino to realize the innuendo. "Bastard! you know what I meant!"

Snickering, he kissed Lovino's forehead. "I know." Struggling out of his grip, the younger boy grabbed his bag and set it on a chair. "I don't really have anything planned? I mean, if you want we can gossip about cute boys for a few hours before putting on a romantic comedy. Then we can make hot chocolate and tell ghost stories." An extremely unimpressed deadpan was sent his way, causing Arthur to open his arms wide and grin cheekily. Maybe he was worried for nothing? There was a tsk, but Lovino came over and accepted the hug anyway. Scooting until he could safely fall on the couch, the man fell back into the cushions. Yeah, this wasn't so bad.

.:.:.:.:.

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes."

"I really hate you sometimes."

"You don't mean that," snickered the Englishman, turning the volume of the television up a couple of notches. While skimming through the guide, he found that The Lion King had started not long ago. This coincidence amused him like nothing else, and he picked the channel without looking any further. "Come on, everyone loves this movie."

"You're just turning it on to spite me."

"That's only a fraction of the reason."

Pain erupted in his shoulder as Lovino bit him. In retaliation, pinches were littered upon the exposed skin of the Italian's leg. "Sonofabitch!"

"Potty mouth."

"I'll show you potty mouth," grinned Lovino, fierce and dark. And those fucking canines! Suddenly the brunette pounced on him, pinching and prodding at wherever those deft fingers could get to. And the asshole was using his nails!

"Oi!" gasped the Englishman, not expecting the attack at all. Once his stun wore off, he donned a sadistic grin of his own. If that was how Lovino wanted to play, then so be it. Caging the assaulting boy with his arms, he grunted and rolled inwardly. Now he was on top, and there was a kind of panic in those deep, lovely eyes. So he reached down and pinched the other back.

Profuse and colorful swearing followed this, and Lovino got in a plethora of hits of his own. But he was grinning like a fool, and Arthur was sure that he mirrored that expression himself. Soon tickling joined the scuffle, adding a whole new and unexpected element to their game. The younger found a particularly weak spot on the front of Arthur's neck, and without thinking the blonde jumped away, losing balance and tumbling to the floor.

Rolling on his stomach, Lovino peered over the couch. "A-are you okay?" he panted.

Arthur almost snorted. He's been through so much in the past, a little fall off of the sofa onto a plush carpet was nothing to worry about. "Oh, just dandy," he responded, also out of breath.

"Oh, well, good. I didn't want to take you to the hospital for a concussion or some other dumb shit." Aww, Lovino was so sweet! He could just- "Anyway, are yo- Aah!" he yelled, the blonde shooting up and dragging him to the ground with him .

"Surrender?" he sneered, climbing on his boyfriend's back and immobilizing his arms.

"Never!" came a heated shout accompanied by flailing legs. A few kicks landed, and Arthur would probably have a bruise there since Lovino still had his shoes on. "An Italian never surrenders!"

And Arthur lost it. Completely releasing his hostage, he barked out a loud laugh and slumped over the body beneath him. He does not think he's laughed this hard. Ever. It was too much, and his throat constricted. Moving his head to his upper arm, he coughed. Even so, the man could not stop laughing, and it only hurt worse, but he could care less.

Rolling off of Lovino, he hit the coffee table and tried to control himself. Eventually he calmed down, and this was the weirdest sore throat he has ever had. Arthur took the time to take large, undisturbed breaths, the occasional giggle slipping past. "Oh... shit..." he panted, bringing a finger up to wipe a legitimate tear from the corner of his eye. Glancing to the side, he noticed Lovino kneeling over him, a false scowl on his features.

"Nice to know my country's battle strategies amuse you so damn much."

"Battle strategies? Is that what you're calling it?"

"Yeah, fucker! Strategic retreats! Ever hear of 'em? Italians have brains, unlike some imperialistic bastards, Mr. British Empire."

"Can't argue with results, love."

Staring at each other, a slow, sickening, cat-like smile stretched across tan lips. "Charge of the Light Brigade."

Instantly a flush rose to Arthur's cheeks, and he gazed at the brunette dumbly. "Th-that... It was a miscommunication! An error from one of the commanders! It-" he paused, unable to come up with a witty comeback. "How do you eve know about that? I doubt American schools teach such a thing."

Replacing Lovino's smirk was a smile. "No, I don't think they do. At least mine didn't." A little nervously, he fidgeted. "To be honest, I'm pretty interested in history. I read about that myself. Can't believe I found a situation where it actually came in handy."

Emeralds blinked. "Wow, I didn't know that. I'm kind of, a, er, history nerd myself. No one really knows about it, but.. yeah."

Face lighting up, Lovino crawled to straddle the Briton. "I really, really like that," he murmured, bending down to kiss Arthur.

Welcoming the action, he happily responded. Both were slightly sweating, Arthur able to feel a dampness cooling the back of his shirt. Their hearts were still a bit rapid, the rush of such a simple show of affection doing nothing to tame them. Their breath was hot, and air blew frantically from their nostrils, for they did not want to separate. A thought imposed itself on Arthur, and it said that he wanted more. Deeper, and filled with even more passion and love. He was hyped on adrenaline and euphoria, and did not think twice about opening his mouth slightly, poking his tongue out to lick at his boyfriend's upper lip.

A muffled noise, and the weight covering him was now less. Confused as to what happened, he opened his eyes. Lovino was staring down at him in shock. A hand was covering his mouth, and the movement suggested that he was wiping it on his palm. Frowning, Arthur dropped his head to the floor with a long sigh. "Sorry, I guess," he grumbled, not really feeling sorry at all.

"Why did you do that?" His voice was soft, but unpleasant. Great.

"Why do you think? I wanted to French."

Red coated the Italian's face, and Arthur waned to wipe it away. Unfortunately he was hesitant to move, lest he frighten Lovino more. He sighed again. "Why? We never- And there was no warning! I didn't-" he stopped, obviously unable to express his thoughts. So Arthur sighed again. "Stop fucking sighing! I didn't do anything wrong!"

Propping himself on his forearms, the older man looked right at Lovino. "I know you didn't, but I didn't either." Unable to understand how neither of them were at fault, the boy sat there wordlessly. Grimacing, Arthur eased one of Lovino's hands in his own. He guessed that he would have to express himself. Maybe this would be a good thing. "Listen, I'm going to be completely honest with you, okay?" After a nod, he continued. "I love you, Lovino. You are the only person I have felt for this way. I respect your boundaries, and I make sure to stay in check when I'm around you, but sometimes I just want to do things with you, but I always have to ask permission! I don't like feeling scared every time I want to try something new! I just felt like kissing you more, and deeper, because damnit I was having a lot of fun with you and you make me so happy. And now you're mad at me because it was unexpected? Couples do it all the time, and I wanted to, I don't know, take another step forward with you? Fucking hell, you're acting like I was trying to hurt you!"

Throughout his rant the Italian stayed still. Taking everything in, and unconsciously increased his grip on Arthur's hand. His head hung slightly, and the Englishman wanted to pull him down and comfort him. But again, he felt like he needed to handle Lovino like an explosive; one wrong jerk, and he would blow. It was tiring, and it was his biggest problem with their relationship right now.

"I don't mean for you to feel like that."

"I know." Fuck it. Grasping his boyfriend's shoulders, the blonde lowered him down. Even though he did not fight it, he was still and tense.

"I've just.. never done any of this before. Yeah, I had girlfriends, but they never lasted long. I'm a lot nicer to girls than boys, but they still complained that I was awkward, or insensitive. So... I've never done anything more than kiss regularly, and hold hands. And then you come along and fucking crash through everything! You've done all of this shit! You know how to kiss, and... and other things.. and I'm- I'm so fucking intimidated by you! You're experienced in everything, and I have no goddamn idea how to do any of this! I feel like soon I'm going to lose you because I don't want to have... sex yet, and I don't want you to leave me... But this is all so new, and strange, and nerve wracking, and," he breathed. A desperate need to interrupt surged through Arthur, but he held his tongue for now. Lovino never opened up like this, and he might stop if the Brit reassured him right now. He needed to know this information, so they could work past it.

"I feel like a kid compared to you. I stumble around, holding your hand, and fall flat on my face when you speed up the littlest bit. You, not me, because I don't know how, and it's already hard enough to keep up!" Sitting up some, he stared straight into Arthur. Every emotion was visible, Lovino not even bothering to bottle them up. Fear, timidness, insecurity... "But I do know this. This feeling I have whenever I'm with you, or even thinking about you... it's love, and it fucking sucks! It makes me more stressed out more than anything else, but knowing that you love me back, well, I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world. So please... I'll never want to break up with you or anything, and I can't promise that I won't freak out when we try something new, and I still want to take things slow, but... I'll try! I'll try to keep up, and at least try the new stuff you throw at me out before freaking out, and... and fuck I feel like an idiot."

Silence overtook them. It was not exactly comfortable either. Over the years they had both painstakingly built wall after wall around themselves, and in only a matter of minutes those walls had crumbled, leaving their hearts openly displayed for each other to easily see. But... it wasn't bad or suffocating. More like a mixture of relief and embarrassment. So they breathed into each other, letting their hands rub comfortingly along arms, or sides, or backs.

Then it hit Arthur. Another milestone had been reached. Never before would he have opened up like that unless he was under some sort of influence, and eve then he his subconscious knew not to let anything vital leak. Here, he spilled everything that had been on his mind to Lovino, and he did not even regret it. He trusted him enough to let him know all of that, and in turn Lovino trusted him back. He hugged his Italian all the harder.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Trusting me." Lovino remained quiet. "I promise you, I will wait for you. Yes, I'm still going to want to try new things with you, but it's not like I'm taking giant leaps. And as for the sex," the brunette's breath hitched, and body went taunt, "that has a category of its own. I will never try and push that on you. I will wait until you're ready, and you won't hear me complain about it. I love you so much, and I'm not so insensitive that I'd pressure you into that."

Noticeably, Lovino relaxed in his arms. Arthur could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks, but he did not move away. "And people say you're not perfect," he mumbled, words foggy and difficult to make out.

Snorting, the blonde pinched a fabric-protected thigh. "Those people are absolutely right," his smile turned devious, though Lovino could not see. "I can't promise that I won't think of you when I touch myself."

"B-BASTARD!" roared the brunette, scrambling up and snatching a pillow from the sofa. He began to swing, fiery flush and embarrassed visage a strobe as he rapidly smacked Arthur's face.

They were both laughing.

.:.:.:.:.

"What the fuck?!" came an exclamation. Recovered from the earlier emotional moment, they had just finished dinner. Of course, the Italian had cooked, and it was delicious. Arthur could get used to eating such meals. His mouth was already salivating from the thought of tomorrow's breakfast. They were putting away the dishes when the other had jumped up and backed away from one of his cabinets.

"What? You see a spider or something?" asked the Brit, baffled at Lovino's expression.

"I thought you stopped that shit!" Anger and fear seethed from his posture.

"Hey, calm down. Stopped what shit?" He walked over to his boyfriend.

"That!" A finger pointed into the low cabinet, and Arthur chuckled lightly when he saw what was causing so much fuss.

"Lovino, it's just a hookah."

Thin brows furrowed. "A what?"

"A hookah," repeated the man, crouching to bring the contraption out. "You use it to smoke tobacco. And yes, it's perfectly legal," he explained upon Lovino's skeptical gaze.

"...Promise?" he muttered, not looking at the Englishman and fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Kissing him, Arthur promised against soft lips. "There are even hookah bars out there." Pausing, he tilted his head at the water pipe. "Actually, it doesn't sound like a bad idea. Do you mind?"

"Uh..." Warily, he eyed the thing, but shrugged. "I guess not.."

Grinning, Arthur went back into the cabinet to grab a wooden box. "Hm... Coconut sounds pretty good," he said to himself.

Stepping closer, the other poked it. "So how does this thing work exactly? Can't you just get a pipe or something?"

Filling the water jar, the Brit replaced it once the level was right. "I could, but this is different," he said, walking it out to the balcony and setting it on the concrete. "It's pretty easy." Disappearing into his second room, he came out with a small, foldable wooden table that was set up outside. Returning to the kitchen, he ripped a small piece of aluminum foil and gestured for Lovino to follow him outside.

Setting the hookah on the table, he took the flavored tobacco and placed it in a divot before wrapping the foil over it. "You put your tobacco in there, and then light a piece of charcoal and set it there." Reaching into the box, he grabbed a piece of coal and a small pair of tongs. Unpocketing his lighter, he set to lighting the black chunk.

"Why do you need to do that?" Taking a pack of flavored tobacco from the box, Lovino sniffed it. "Whoa, that actually doesn't smell too bad. Strawberry, huh..?"

"Because you're not burning the tobacco," he enlightened, waiting for the charcoal to stop spewing sparks before placing it on the foil. A windbreaker was set over that. "This way you're, er, disintegrating the tobacco. So you're heating it, and the smoke goes down into the water to cool and purify a little. Then you just smoke it out of the hose."

While he waited for it to heat, the Brit gathered two folding chairs and set them next to the table. "So it's not... dangerous?" asked the Italian, sitting down.

"Well, definitely not as bad as cigarettes. It not exactly healthy, but I don't use it very often anymore, so it's no big risk." Sitting, he took Lovino's hand. "You don't have to worry about me." With his other hand, he grabbed the hose and inhaled. The cool smoke left a pleasant taste in his mouth, and he blew out steadily.

"'M not worried," was all he said, eyes transfixed on the dancing wisps.

"Wanna try?" Arthur joked, and sniggered when he was punched in the arm. "Hey, there are plenty of people who don't smoke anything but hookahs."

Crossing his arms, the brunette stuck his nose in the air. "Well I'm not one of them." Slouching in the chair, he peeked from the corner of his eye. "But... I guess I don't care that you do it."

Arthur exhaled another cloud, this time from his nose. "Aww, my sweet little Italian," he singsonged.

"My bitter English scone."

"Do you really want to do this with me right now, tomato face?"

"Not particularly, tea brain."

Raising his eyebrows, the blonde hastily chuckled. "Tea brain, huh? I can't even be annoyed because that's pretty clever."

Crossing Lovino's features was a smug look, and he pet Arthur's head with playful condescension. "There, there. Maybe one day you'll be as great at English as me."

Pushing his shoulder, Arthur crookedly grinned. "Says the guy who you can't understand if he's speaking too fast." He took another huff.

After that they did not talk about much. Subjects ranging from fond memories, to stupid things they had done with their friends came and went as often and easily as the nighttime breeze. Arthur could tell that the other was getting tired. His grip was loose, and his voice became dreamy as his eyelids constantly fluttered. Once he had had enough of the tobacco, he lifted his hand and kissed mocha skin. "Tired?"

"Yeah." As if to prove him right, Lovino let out a wide yawn.

"Go and get ready for bed. I'll put these away and join you shortly."

Nodding, the boy leaned towards Arthur to give him a kiss on the cheek. "See you in a bit," he said while rising from the chair. A small blush stained the Briton. Never would he admit to how giddy cheek kisses made him. Shaking the feeling away, he set about gathering his water pipe and storing it away.

Done with that task, Arthur headed to the bathroom to wash up. Although he was not tired in the least, the thought of Lovino snuggling up to him in the dark was enough to spur him on. Yes, tonight was going to be perfect.

Walking into the bedroom, he saw the Italian staring at the bed. He had changed into a tank top, and a pair of shorts ending at mid-thigh. This way, his legs seemed to go on for miles, and Arthur's hands twitched in want to feel all of them. But he pushed that feeling away. "It won't eat you," he quipped. But I might.

No, Arthur. Stop.

Uncomfortable, Lovino quickly scurried under the sheets. Climbing in after him, the Brit snorted softly. His clothes were fine, and he opted to just sleep in them. Turning to face his boyfriend, he found him supine, still and trying not to hyperventilate. Arthur scooted over, and touched his shoulder. "Hey, remember what I said earlier?" Amber opened, though the color was indistinguishable in the dark. That was okay, because he had memorized them long ago. "Come here?"

A heavy breath was let out, and the Italian went lax. Letting Arthur enclose him protectively, he nuzzled into him.

Arthur liked the night. It was a time where he felt safe. Daytime was always too bright and gaudy. Too active with too many people. He always felt like he was being watched, or judged. Under the moon's gentle, star-ridden blanket he felt perfect. Like he was alive, and free. It was okay for him to exist here. Colors shone in a completely different way, and he let them take over. Maybe one day he could share this with Lovino. Go out into the dimly lit streets, taking in a completely different side of the world. A side most people didn't understand because they were either afraid of it, or of others who took advantage of it because it was so misunderstood. Like him.

For now he was happy to lay in his old bed with a warm, much adored body in his arms, and a calming scent sweeter than any smoke could ever be.

"Goodnight love," he murmured, kissing Lovino's forehead.

"Buona Notte, mio tesoro."

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Alternate title: In which two blockheads finally express their feelings, and Arthur forgets about his tea.

Hookahs are pretty.

tesoro- darling (treasure)

I hope you enjoyed! And guys, if you have any suggestions, or requests, I'd love to hear them! Sometimes I struggle with coming up with ideas for this AU. Thanks to Mana for inspiring this chapter~!