Gift for counterheist
Title: This Modern Love
Author/Artist: reconquista
Recipient: counterheist
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Spain and Romano, mentions of Veneziano and Germany, and vague mentions of lady!Portugal for hilarity reasons. (And also because I adore that design for Portugal, but shhh.)
Word Count/Media: 6,875
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: Lovino doesn’t understand anything anymore, Antonio is a bit of an idiot, neither of them know how to work a dating website correctly.
Summary: The prompt I picked was: Lovino Vargas arranges to meet his internet girlfriend for the first time in real life on New Year's Eve. Imagine his surprise when a man sits down at the table across from him. Truth to be told, that is the best summary you will get for this poor mess of words, and hopefully they’re enjoyable.
My huge and giant amount of apologies for how late this is. One thing after another led to me being unable to send it, and upon finally having a wifi signal decent enough in my host family’s house to get gmail to work, I found out that half of this fic had never saved itself. The ending is a bit of a cop-out for that reason, since getting this to you was more important than it having the picture perfect ending I had originally written nearly a month ago. tl;dr I hope you like it regardless of my huge failure as this having a proper ending and being anywhere near on time.
To set the record straight, Lovino had always been good at getting dates. He was a suave, sweet, Italian man, born and bred in Rome and oh so cruelly whisked away to New York by his parents when he was 13. It had started out as a near social suicide - he was the grumpy new kid from Italy, barely spoke any English, and what he did know was mostly swear words. He may not have been the most popular kid in school, or as friendly as his dumbass of a brother, but he eventually found his niche - and that was with the ladies.
Instead of having lovely Italian beauties on his arm, he had to deal with crass American girls - but, hey, they were still lovely ladies. Maybe not quite what he had envisioned at the start of puberty, but there were some perks to being in America. One major plus he found was that his accent and the way he could coo out the most nonsense Italian words would have girls swooning over him in seconds. Except maybe those girls who knew just as much Italian as he did, or with mothers that would chase him out of their kitchen when they heard just what nonsense words he said in Italian to their daughters. But, whatever, he didn’t have to bother with them. There were plenty of ladies in the Big Apple, and Lovino was good at wooing them.
He was a practiced (and skilled, shut up) flirt, easily charming ladies into a night out with him. He could wine and dine the girls in the classiest restaurants, dress up in Versace and Armani, and smile just right to make them blush. Oh, he could easily have girls on his arm, even with the mishaps his temper provided now and again.
The problem was that he couldn’t seem to convince someone to stay around for more than one date.
He wasn’t sure why exactly - he was perfectly charming during dates, showing any girl around in style, making sure they had a wonderful time with him. Maybe his Italian charm really was too much for their fragile American hearts. Maybe they were just fucking stupid. But, for whatever reason, something would come up and nip whatever he had started right in the bud. Either the girl simply wasn’t interested in him beyond that one date, or his temper would at some point flare, and the girl would ignore his phone calls for the next week. (Which, really, that was all stupid as hell, because even Lovino at his worst was a fucking classy bastard. Wasn’t his fault they couldn’t handle a few well placed curse words or telling the waiter just what a dumbass he was for bringing the wrong wine again.)
Suffice to say, after a long string of single dates (he was not the one date wonder, shut the fuck up), even Lovino Vargas had grown tired. Lovely ladies falling for a word or two for a night was nice, and perhaps he really had the ultimate bachelor life (minus a lot of the supposed sex he was supposed to be having in such a situation), but it wasn’t what he really wanted.
Lovino was a romantic at heart, and going on dates was supposed to lead to a life of bliss with some lovely lady on his arm for life, and a couple of stupid kids running around and calling him papa. But, none of that was happening. He hadn’t had a single serious relationship so far - minus one with his old Belgian friend Emmeline, but his awkward stuttering and long time crush on her had ended up with her taking pity and dissolving it after but a month of dating. (He didn’t like to talk about it.)
At first he’d been embarrassed by it, hell outright offended that Feliciano had even suggested it to him, but he’d eventually caved and made a profile on a dating website that catered to European immigrants living in America. While dating Americans had been nice, maybe a change of pace - and nationality - would be a breath of fresh air into his dating life. After a few helpful, more truthful changes to it - “Lovino, you don’t really own a Ferrari or a mansion in Napoli.” “Shut up, Feliciano.” - he was ready to hit the confusingly open world of online dating. Or, so he thought.
Weeks passed. No one messaged him. Girls he messaged ignored his messages, or changed their relationship statuses to being involved with someone else as soon as he managed to do work up the courage to talk to them. This seemed to be a bigger source of bullshit than his history of dates in person.
But then, oh, then, this angel messaged him. The screen name she had was kind of stupid - tomate_deamor2, seriously? - but she seemed like a waking dream to Lovino. The girl was drop dead gorgeous (at least according to her profile picture, although she was posing with some dumb guy, apparently a sibling or something), was sweeter than sugar (albeit a little airheaded, but he could deal), and loved tomatoes (the holy grail of foods). She was Spanish to boot, having just moved from Granada about five months before. Spanish may not be Italian, but he figured it was close enough to pass. While Italian was far better in all degrees, the Spanish did have that similar brand of passion and fire and romance - and similar languages to boot. It was all major pluses in Lovino’s book, and she honestly seemed to like him. A few awkward flirts from Lovino made her laugh - or whatever LOL :) three times in a row meant - and she actively chattered with Lovino via the chat program on the site.
It wasn’t long until they were talking daily, exchanging messages as soon as either of them got online. Actual names weren’t allowed to be shared via the site, and Lovino wasn’t entirely keen on giving his away anyway - he didn’t really know this girl, after all. She didn’t seem very concerned by his shyness, or his unwillingness to share pictures of himself. While he doubted he knew the girl in real life (like hell he would forget a body or a face like that), he couldn’t bring himself to send her anything truly personal. Really, what if someone he knew saw his picture and gave him hell about it later? He’d die from embarrassment. It was bad enough he was using a dating site already.
They shared other things instead - foods they liked, what they enjoyed doing, minor details about their jobs and family life. She sounded perfect. She loved to cook (although most of it was Spanish dishes, naturally, which Lovino could forgive considering she enjoyed Italian food as well), liked to sing and dance, loved wine, and had a big annoying (mostly Catholic) family just like Lovino. It wasn’t long until he found himself falling hard for the girl, stupid screen name and all. He was thinking of her constantly, even outside of that stupid little computer screen he connected to her with. He was daydreaming about her at work to the point he nearly spilt coffee all over himself and made an ass of himself in front of his grandfather’s old clients. It’d gotten to the point he was agonizing over her as he fell asleep. It was fucking serious, all right.
They’d been doing the chatting back and forth - and setting their statues to “dating”, much to Lovino’s embarrassment at first - for a half a year and Lovino was starting to feel antsy. Would she ever want to meet in person? He’d been too shy to share any real photos of himself to her, even in private (because even if someone he knew saw it, the true horror would be her not being interested after that), and they hadn’t talked yet about how far away they lived from each other. Maybe she lived in California? Or, god forbid, Alaska? What would he do then? What if she didn’t want to actually see him in person, but just use him as an emotional outlet online? Fuck if he knew. All he knew is he wanted to hold her, and text clients didn’t exactly allow for physical contact.
After three weeks of biting his nails and pacing angrily around his room while he talked to her, he finally hit broke and asked her to visit for New Year’s Eve. They could see the sites, do all that stupid couple stuff New York offered, just. Be together. Get to know each other in person. Something Lovino was getting scared over how much he wanted. After an agonizing five minutes, she responded with a “of course!!! :) Id luv 2 meet u n person” and Lovino’s heart just about stopped. Once they shared a place, time, and general assurances of they’d both be there, he shut off his computer with the most confusing state of mind and emotional mess he’d ever felt.
His internet girlfriend was going to visit him. For the first time.
God, that was not something he ever thought he was going to say.
-----------------
Lovino was ready for this date. He was goddamn ready for this date. And when Lovino Vargas was ready for a date, he was ready.
He'd spent hours carefully picking out his clothing. He put on the best red silk shirt he had, and a sharp black tie tied loosely around his collar. He tried on suit after suit until he made sure he had the one that cut against his frame just right. He had on his best cologne, and his best watch. He'd even practiced his best charming smile in the mirror. Lovino had made sure that every single aspect of him screamed that he was a catch. A goddamn handsome catch. A catch that would make any lady swoon for this date he was about to set out on.
Didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous as hell, though.
Even if it had started out online, this was the first real - or at least close to real - relationship he’d ever been in. He didn’t know what to do with himself as he waited at the restaurant he picked out - a classy, high scale (as high as he could afford, anyway) Italian place. Lovino kept picking at his suit for any stray lint or fuzz, and checking his watch anxiously. What if she stood him up? What if she never showed? He had given her the place and table number, right? He’d even choked down some nerves and given her his last name, against site rules and all. He didn’t know what he’d do with himself if she didn’t show up - or if she came, sat down, and just laughed at him.
Ten minutes past go time, and Lovino was ready to choke himself on the wine he had ordered a half hour ago in a fit of nerves. I’ll wait an hour. I’ll wait an hour and if she doesn’t show, then. Then I’ll get online and see if she just missed a flight or something. Must be that. Yeah, must be that. Fuck, she’s Spanish, she’s probably just late to begin with.
His mental reverie was interrupted though when someone sat across the table across from him. Nearly fumbling the wine glass in stupid excitement and surprise, he actually almost did spill it on himself when he saw just who was sitting across from him.
It wasn’t a girl. No, it was some dumb, absent-minded looking guy, staring at him curiously. Maybe not even curiously, but expectantly, which was even fucking weirder. The man was handsome, he had to admit, with bouncy chocolate curls wrapping around his dumb head, and stunningly green eyes staring intently at Lovino’s probably awkwardly contorted face. He had a nose and facial structure that screamed Mediterranean heritage, and skin that showed that he’d had some time in the sun. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with his wine, Lovino might’ve noticed more of the man’s body, including the fact that he was surprisingly fit for a guy who looked dumber than the side of a barn. Or whatever. He looked dumb as shit. Or at least airheaded enough to walk into a pole if he was distracted enough. Regardless of details, a rather good-looking guy was staring Lovino down, instead of the rather jaw dropping gorgeous girl he expected.
Lovino gaped for a long moment, a million confused thoughts crossing across his mind until his brain finally caught up, a large, displeased frown twisting his face.
“Who the hell are you?”
The goddamn idiot had the nerve to smile, tilting his head to the side with that same dumbass curious look to his face. Just. Smiling now. “I’m here to meet my date?”
Lovino felt his brain halt. Again. “Well, sorry, bud, but this table’s taken.”
“Oh, no no no no,” the half-wit said, his voice oddly accented. “I was told to meet her here. She gave me this table number and everything!”
If Lovino could have vomited in anger and confusion he would have. In fact, his stomach was very much so favouring the idea, especially onto this man in front of him that was slowly shattering his world and everything inside of it. Clearly this guy had to be confused. Or mentally deranged. Or both. Probably both. Both was good.
“Bullshit, I gave my date this table number and time. And place. You must have your information wrong,” Lovino spat out, glaring down the man across from him with every fibre of his angry being. The more Lovino stared, the more he realized that the man was oddly familiar, stupid and airheaded as he was. Maybe he just had a face that was that kind of face that looked like someone you knew or whatever. People had faces like that, right? It wasn’t like he would’ve seen this person before. Not even online or anything, right? Maybe he was in a Facebook feed of some stupid relative’s or something. Must be it.
“No, I’m pretty sure this is the right place. I wrote it down!” the other man said, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. (What the hell was that accent, and why was it so familiar?) “I really tend to forget things, you see, so I write down important stuff, like this! I really didn’t want to be late either, but I didn’t realize how bad New York traffic is, I haven’t been here in ages, and I didn’t know that taxis actually cost quite a bit from LaGuardia to Manhattan, did you know that-“
Lovino was rubbing his temples in frustration, trying his hardest to not just kick the guy and be done with it. This guy could go on, and he seemed to be determined to use every word in his English vocabulary by the end of it. It was clear it wasn’t his first language, and Lovino was finally piecing together where he’d heard that kind of accent before - stuck with his family in some stupid Spanish beach town with a lot of stupid Spaniards brokenly speaking English to the large amount of British expats that flocked to their shores. When the guy finally paused to breathe (again), Lovino cut him off, staring at him with every wish that the man would simply disappear. “Look, cazzo, I’m here to meet someone, and you really need to just fucking clear out, or my date isn’t going to show up.”
The man stopped his ramble, staring at him curiously, before chuckling awkwardly. “I don’t want to miss my date either.”
Lovino sighed, pressing his face into his palms. “Look, whatever, did this chick give you a name? Maybe I can help you find her or some shit.”
The man perked up, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! Yes she did! Just her last name though, you see, she’s so shy, and I didn’t want to push her and all, you know, especially since we’ve only known each other-“
“What is her name,” Lovino ground out, trying not to bite the side of his mouth hard enough to bleed in pure and utter frustration.
The man grinned the sunniest beaming smile Lovino had ever seen as he uttered the one name that could’ve possibly shattered his entire world, in all of his Spanish accented too good-looking glory. “Vargas!”
Oh fuck him. Fuck him all the way to hell.
-----------------
Lovino had spent probably fifteen minutes cursing wildly in the restaurant’s bathroom - after he’d been politely told to excuse himself by the waiter who heard him scream three different forms of “fuck” in Italian at the table - smashing his head against the (thankfully clean) tile walls of a stall. He’d probably scared every other patron in the restroom - or the restaurant, he didn’t really care anymore - but he was having his moment, his moment of god why me why me why would you do this I hate you so fucking much and the bathroom was the most apt place at the moment.
Lovino had to have the luck to end up connecting to a man online, thinking blithely for months that he was falling for a gorgeous lady. It turns out that tomate_deamor2 was not the gorgeous woman in the photo on his profile, but instead the rather idiotic looking man next to her. That was his sibling - or more accurately, older sister - who lived in Portugal. Lovino had been unwittingly talking to the younger brother for the past six months, never realizing the true identity of the person behind it.
Thinking back on it, neither of them had really used gender specific pronouns, and the rest of their discussions had been vague enough to mask anything that should’ve stood out as a clue. Lovino hadn’t bothered to ask, because why in the fuck would he? The idiot who sat across from Lovino hadn’t listed his gender, claiming he was a bit confused by the options on the site and left it blank. Considering what Lovino knew about Spaniards and English - let alone this specific Spanish idiot using the internet - it absolutely believable. It didn’t help that what he did fill out on the website only filled Lovino’s hopes that he really was a girl - such as listing things like Juilo Iglesias and other cheesy Spanish ballad singers as his favourite musical artists. (Seriously, what self-respecting man listed that as their favourite singers? Lovino may have had Italian opera singers listed, but they were good. They weren’t fucking Enrique Iglesias’ father.) It didn’t help that the “girlfriend” admitted he hadn’t even really bothered to fully read Lovino’s profile online, focusing on the things that had seemed attractive instead of, oh, something like the fact that he was male.
The whole ordeal really would’ve been quite funny if it hadn’t happened to Lovino. Maybe he could laugh at it later, when he’d had far too many drinks to be healthy and cried pitifully because of insane levels of embarrassment and shame. Maybe he would even take up that offer of a physiatrist appointment that Feliciano’s disgusting German boyfriend kept offering him. Right now, however, all he wanted to do was fade hopelessly into the tile in front of him. Or scream some more.
He’d left Antonio sitting rather dumbly and confusedly at the table, looking rather nonplussed with finding out his internet girlfriend of three months had actually turned out to be a guy. Oh, the damned fool had just shrugged it off, looking concerned as Lovino yelled obscenities and stalked off to the restroom. Lovino would’ve felt bad for leaving the idiot there with such a stupid look on his face if he wasn’t currently ready to tear his face off and be done with it. It was the end of the year, and he was going to leave it off with “accidentally dated a man online for three months.” What a riot.
The creaking of the bathroom door caught Lovino’s attention from his very heated argument with himself, listening as the feet stopped in front of his stall.
“…Lovino?”
Fuck. It was Antonio.
“Lovino, I know you’re in there, the waiter told me where the bathroom was and, honestly, I could hear you from across the restaurant.”
Fuck.
“Do… do you want to talk about it more?” God, the guy actually sounded concerned. Worried, even. That bothered Lovino even more.
“No, I do not want to talk about it more!” Lovino snapped, wishing he could bury himself into the grapevine themed tiles of the bathroom.
He could hear Antonio’s awkward shuffling outside the door, and a sigh. “Well, I’d like to talk about it.” All Lovino could do is sniffle pathetically. Fuck this all to hell. “Maybe we could talk about it over drinks? I wouldn’t mind that dinner, either.”
God, could his life get anyway more awkward.
It took a little more coaxing on Antonio’s part, but Lovino was eventually lured out of his stall of anger and frustration, sitting back down at their original table - much to their waiter’s chagrin. He was hungry, after all, and he wasn’t going to let the reservation he had to use his contacts for go to waste - which had involved calling his grandfather and asking him to make the reservation, which was painfully humiliating, thank you very much. The company may not have been what he wanted, but he was going to stuff himself full of food and wine as if it was going to be the last thing he did.
While the food was good, the dinner itself with his date was long and blundering - Antonio kept trying desperately to connect to Lovino again, who was really fully intent on making sure he ordered enough wine to get through this. Lovino had to give the poor sap credit for honestly trying to at least apologize for the horrendous screw up they had both landed in, being surprisingly - although, not too surprisingly, considering the person he had gotten to know online - patient with him, chatting his way aimlessly through the dinner in a hope to get Lovino talking again.
It was strange, but Lovino felt like he should at least have the dinner with Antonio. He could’ve easily gotten up and left as soon as he ate at least a little, or just plain walked off, gotten another table, or found another place to have dinner somewhere. But something tugged at him, whether it was Antonio himself or something else - that and the idea that Antonio would’ve chased him all over New York City if Lovino left. They had, as he shuddered to think, been romantically involved with each other for the past three months. Even finding out the other person was not the gender either of them expected was not enough to make Lovino forget how much he had liked the stupid fucker - and, apparently, how much Antonio had liked him.
Maybe it was just guilt for stringing Antonio along in a way, or Lovino just feeling crushed and wanting at least some sort of connection that night, but they ended up sharing the entire stupid dinner together. And then, with some help from Antonio so he could lumber to it, at the bar across the street, downing enough drinks to ensure the bar would survive through the upcoming year.
Once the countdown to midnight rolled around, Lovino was vaguely aware of Antonio’s hand curled around his, staring at him with those stupidly intense green eyes again. It was making him nervous for some reason, heart-beating-stupidly-flushed-face nervous, and it made him swallow dryly, wishing he had another drink in his hand. The people around them were excited, clamouring drunkenly around each other. Some couples were already curled up together, getting ready to kiss at midnight. Everyone else was too focused on partying and celebrating, or drinking themselves stupider than they had ever been in the past year. Nobody cared about the two drunken foreign men staring awkwardly at each other in some corner.
“Lovino,” Antonio muttered, still sounding stupidly attractive in a way that made Lovino uncomfortable if he thought too much about it, even though he knew Antonio was stunningly drunk as well. “Lovino, I have to let you know something.”
“10, 9, 8-!”
“What, you stupid bastard,” Lovino slurred stubbornly in response, trying to make sure he was staring at him straight, but most likely swaying like he was sure the world currently was.
“7, 6, 5-!”
“I have to let you know,” Antonio paused, as if trying to recollect his original plan. He nodded once he caught up to his train of thought, clutching Lovino’s hand tighter in his. “I don’t care that you’re a guy. I love you all the same.”
“4, 3, 2-!”
Lovino gulped. Something in him bent - or maybe broke, he wasn’t sure what it was. All he knew was Antonio was staring at him like he was the most beautiful, amazing thing in the goddamn universe, and -
“1-!”
Lovino felt that way about Antonio, too.
“Happy New Year! ”
In what was probably the most alcohol (and something else) fuelled kiss Lovino ever had in his life, he crushed Antonio’s lips against his, listening to Antonio’s happy, relieved sigh as the world rang in the New Year noisily around them.
-----------------
Lovino woke up the next morning with the most utterly pounding hangover he had in years. The sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to be in the form of intense pain, and he wanted nothing more than to roll back into his sheets and shut it all out. In fact, the first thing he did was to grip at the sheets wrapped around him, trying to pull them closer and over his aching head. And, while he did grab at sheets, he grabbed something else as well. Or, as the sleepy hum next to him indicated, someone else.
Lovino nearly darted out of the bed and across the room as soon as he felt skin against his own. But, considering his head felt ready to split open and spill messily all over him, he very quickly settled for dizzily sitting up instead.
“Who- I- What?!“ Lovino sputtered uselessly for a good moment, staring blearily at the unfamiliar room around him - and the rather unfortunately familiar bedmate. Antonio was sleepily mumbling next to him, burrowing in closer to Lovino’s warm (and the stolen sheets, probably). Which, while looked far cuter than a grown man should ever look, was faintly disturbing since the man happily nuzzling Lovino’s thigh was not wearing any shirt. A quick scan of the room proved that Antonio’s clothing was dumped unceremoniously on the floor, along with Lovino’s. Whatever had happened last night, both of them had ended up at a hotel - most likely the one Antonio was staying in for his visit - sans their clothing.
A fresh wave of nausea swept over Lovino as his head spun, taking in everything at the pace of a train crashing through his thought process. God, just what had he done?
While quietly vowing to himself to never ever ever drink again, Antonio started to stir, sitting up and staring at Lovino with a dazed look. Lovino stared right back, gripping the sheets up against his - cold and uncomfortably bare - chest. Antonio smiled back sleepily, and Lovino could almost see the cogs turn in his head until something finally clicked, and then the dopey Spaniard went stiff and rigid.
“Ah.” Was, apparently, all Antonio had to say.
“Ah?” Lovino ground out, staring daggers at the man next to him. “Ah is all you have to say to this situation?”
Antonio had the decency to look sheepish for a moment, at least until a confused look swept across his face instead. “…It’s a situation?”
Lovino sputtered, fighting the urge to bury his face into his hands and just leave. Do the walk of shame and go home and never mention this to anyone ever. (And go to the priest with the most confusing confession he would ever give in his life, but that was later.) “Yes, it’s a fucking situation, you moron. Just what the hell happened last night?”
Antonio stared for a good moment - either he was trying to understand what Lovino meant, or was trying to piece together his own drunken memories. But, he eventually shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m… not sure? We were both pretty drunk.”
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Lovino muttered, rubbing at his temples again. “I don’t even remember getting here, though. What happened?”
Antonio paused again, and this time Lovino could see something going on with the idiot, considering his eyes twinkled and then a flush formed on his cheeks. “Well. We. We kissed at midnight-“
Lovino could feel a twinge of something go through him - hopefully pain, because the opposite was starting to scare him - and he gritted his teeth, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I remember that, I mean after.”
Antonio nodded, still looking like he was riding on the coattails some sort of stupidly happy dream. “Yes, well, you kissed me at midnight, and. Well, we were pretty drunk, so we only really kissed for a little while, and then you fell asleep on the bar! It was pretty funny, but I think you were really tired, and you were muttering something about how you never do this, another thing about how a man shouldn’t have an ass that nice, and how could you let down your mother like that- I don’t know, it was pretty weird, but I didn’t know where you lived, and the hotel I’m staying at wasn’t very far, so we came here!”
The rambling was not the most pleasant thing to hungover ears, but Lovino just nodded, trying to cover his eyes from the bright sun - and even seeing that overjoyed face on Antonio. “Yeah, okay, okay, I get it. Drunken rambling and going to a hotel besides, why in the fuck are we naked?”
He could feel Antonio shift on the bed, obviously nervous. The answer, however, wasn’t what he expected. “I don’t know.”
Lovino pulled his hands away from his face, staring at the man across from him. “What do you mean, you don’t know? How could you not know? I mean, it’s not every day you wake up naked in a damn hotel with someone you thought was the opposite gender while dating online for three months!”
Antonio made a very strange face - Lovino couldn’t tell if it was happy, sad, or just confused, maybe a mix of the three - before scratching his neck again, shrugging. “I honestly don’t know. Like I said, I was pretty drunk too, and as soon as I got us up to the hotel room, I blacked out.”
Lovino sputtered, burying his face back into his hands. All he could think was this is not happening, this is not happening. He’d had his handful of waking up in an unfamiliar bed after too many drinks, but. This was unfamiliar and scary, and diving into a territory Lovino had never ventured into before.
Never before in his life had he been even bare minimum attracted to a man, let alone in any sort of situation where something had even made him seriously think about it. But, here he was, sitting in bed next to a naked, blithely confused Spanish man, who looked more confused that Lovino was confused than anything else. A Spanish man who looked way too good for Lovino to feel comfortable with himself or his currently very confused sexuality, especially as he could finally see all of the rather nice body the man had. Or at least the top half. The top half was nice enough, and from what he remembered of his (clothed) ass, that was very nice, too.
Lovino groaned, wanting to melt into the sheets of the bed beneath him and never resurface. The whole thing was a giant, confusing, and disgusting mess, and Lovino wanted nothing more than to backtrack and undo the past six months.
But, a cautious, very gentle hand around his shoulders stopped him.
“Look,” Antonio started off softly, “This. This doesn’t have to be anything, or mean anything, okay? I can cancel my reservation for the next night, change my airline tickets and just go home. You won’t have to talk to me again, okay?”
Lovino desperately wanted to nod, confirming the idea and quickly dart out of the room as soon as he could. But, Antonio sounded hurt. He sounded sad. Lovino felt his heart twist despite himself, and he found that leaving sounded less and less like a good idea, and more and more like something that would hurt himself, too.
Which, at first thought, seemed really rather stupid - it was what he wanted, right? To get rid of the man that was making him very, very confused, and to just ease back into his life as it was before. Back to normalcy, back to knowing exactly what he liked and what he wanted, and what to do with himself. But, that wasn’t so good either, was it? He had started this whole online dating thing to connect with someone he could actually fall for, and - unfortunately for the gender part of it - he had. He didn’t want to go back to dating people that never called him back, or to a life where he didn’t even like the people he was dating. The damn, stupid idiot of the man next to him was still the person he had liked and chatted endlessly to online, and that was what Lovino was finding so hard to come to terms with.
Lovino slowly peeked an eye out from under his hands, confirming that Antonio looked a lot less like the sun incarnate, and more like someone had just cancelled Christmas. He seemed heartbroken in a way, and the hand on his shoulder gripped him gently. “We don’t have to do anything about this.”
They were both quiet for a long moment, Lovino trying to desperately think of something to say or do. Nothing really seemed quite right - what he wanted to do went against what he felt was what he actually should do, and Antonio just looked ready to cry. Lovino had always been weak to crying women, but Antonio was - well, Lovino knew already that the dumbass was special.
With a sigh, Lovino shook his head, pulling his hands away from his face. “No, that’s stupid,” he admitted, half to himself, and half to Antonio. He could see Antonio relax instantly out of the corner of his eye, staring at him just as expectantly as he had done in the restaurant last night. “This is - well, it’s goddamn weird, but it’s not something we can exactly just fucking forget and back out of, right? I mean-“ he scowled, feeling his throat tighten as his nerves flared. “Well, we’ve been in a goddamn relationship for three months, and friends for six already. Even I’m not so callous to walk out on that.”
Antonio just nodded as he gripped Lovino’s shoulder again, looking like he had just been handed the entire world on a plate. (God in heaven, this guy was going to take some getting used to.) Lovino rolled his eyes in response, shaking his head again. “Stop it with the fucking faces, alright. I can’t handle them when I’m this hungover.”
Antonio just laughed, which was a bright sound, happy and warm and it made something in Lovino’s chest flutter annoyingly. In fact, that all too annoying sunlight streaming through the windows made Antonio’s face just as bright as his laughter as well, his eyes standing out like gems as he smiled - as cheesy and cliché as that damn thought was. The man really was rather handsome, all messy and sunny like this stupid morning was. It made Lovino stop and stare at him, caught in his own little moment of stupidity, wondering how in the hell he was in a situation like this - and with an awkwardly beating heart on top of it.
The pressure of Antonio’s hand still on his shoulder brought back the same feelings from last night - of a similar sort of longing Lovino hadn’t had since Emmeline rejected his stupid little seventeen year old heart - and made him act without thinking, once again.
He shifted, leaning in towards Antonio, watching with a faint sense of amusement as Antonio’s eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed. This time, the kiss was nowhere as sloppy and broken as the kiss they shared in the bar at midnight, but more substantial, something more like a kiss he had been daydreaming about for the past week. It was a little hesitant and gentle for Lovino’s tastes, but it was proper and made his head nearly burst - especially as Antonio kissed him back, the hand on his shoulder bringing him closer and further into the kiss. They kissed for a good solid minute or two, neither pulling away easily once the world came back into focus again.
It was weird, but Lovino knew in an instant that his feelings were not at all different. That stupid confusion seemed to slowly ebb away, replaced by such a concrete certainty that Lovino was a little terrified of. He knew that Antonio was, well, he was Antonio, and not the pretty girl he had wanted, but for some reason that was completely fine. He could only think of the person he had gotten to know online, and none of that bothered him - in fact, it made him love the stupid idiot even more. It was confusing to no end, and his heart was doing double time, but he was sure that was something they would talk about, considering it all. Lovino could get over the absolutely ridiculous fact that he was quite fond of an idiot man later.
But, for now, he just felt his cheeks flush as he glared at the idiot gripping the back of his head still. “Oi, say something, jerk.”
Antonio was still staring at him in some sort of blissful, happy shock for a moment before he grinned wide and bright, choosing action over words, nearly tackling Lovino as he smothered him with kisses all over again.
-----------------
It was later on in the day when both of them finally rolled out of bed - after several make out sessions, which was actually quite nice with a man, as Lovino soon discovered - doing all of the stupid touristy things he had promised Antonio. They had already spent some time bustling around the city, and now Lovino was trying to tug a very excited Antonio to the Empire State Building for their next stop. His now very much so boyfriend was humming and holding on happily to his hand as they walked around the city, obviously on cloud nine and talking at a mile a minute as they finally got to know each other in person.
However, it was when Antonio finally started to remember the night before that Lovino nearly hit him upside the head again.
“Oh! You thought we had sex?” Antonio prompted after finally worming out what a fairly embarrassed Lovino was trying to ask.
“What the fuck do you think I was asking?” he hissed in response, throwing a dirty look at a few people who stared. It was embarrassing enough to ask what he had done when drunk, let alone what proper gay sex entailed - it wasn’t something he had exactly researched, never finding a reason to when looking at ladies and flirting with them was quite enough, you know. And, Francis’ staggering collection of porn was so ridiculously unrealistic he wasn’t going to trust what he had gleaned from that - and discussions he did not want to remember - as actual fact. (That, and hearing Ludwig trying to recite directions as Feliciano rolled his eyes and pulled them into their bedroom had scarred Lovino for life on that matter.)
“Well, I wasn’t sure, you know,” Antonio said, laughing a little. “And I don’t think we did.”
Lovino stared, trying to ignore the person behind them who nearly crashed into the two of them as he stopped short, ignoring the angry curse snapped at him. “What do you mean we didn’t? What was with all the clothing off and then-“ he gulped, electing to scowl instead. Words were difficult sometimes, shut up.
Antonio laughed again, planting a kiss on Lovino’s cheek as he pulled him forward, getting them moving again - and making a rather embarrassed blush spread across Lovino’s cheeks. “You said you like to sleep naked, and honestly, I was drunk enough that it sounded like a wonderful idea at the time.”
Lovino nearly wanted to smash his face into the Empire State Building at that. Naturally, that would be the reason.
“Besides,” Antonio said with a bit of a shrug, “My ass doesn’t hurt.”
Lovino nearly walked right into the door then, sputtering wildly. “Don’t say shit like that in public, you damn idiot!”
The laugh as Antonio kissed him gently on the lips made him blush the whole way up to the top.
Author/Artist: reconquista
Recipient: counterheist
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Spain and Romano, mentions of Veneziano and Germany, and vague mentions of lady!Portugal for hilarity reasons. (And also because I adore that design for Portugal, but shhh.)
Word Count/Media: 6,875
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: Lovino doesn’t understand anything anymore, Antonio is a bit of an idiot, neither of them know how to work a dating website correctly.
Summary: The prompt I picked was: Lovino Vargas arranges to meet his internet girlfriend for the first time in real life on New Year's Eve. Imagine his surprise when a man sits down at the table across from him. Truth to be told, that is the best summary you will get for this poor mess of words, and hopefully they’re enjoyable.
My huge and giant amount of apologies for how late this is. One thing after another led to me being unable to send it, and upon finally having a wifi signal decent enough in my host family’s house to get gmail to work, I found out that half of this fic had never saved itself. The ending is a bit of a cop-out for that reason, since getting this to you was more important than it having the picture perfect ending I had originally written nearly a month ago. tl;dr I hope you like it regardless of my huge failure as this having a proper ending and being anywhere near on time.
To set the record straight, Lovino had always been good at getting dates. He was a suave, sweet, Italian man, born and bred in Rome and oh so cruelly whisked away to New York by his parents when he was 13. It had started out as a near social suicide - he was the grumpy new kid from Italy, barely spoke any English, and what he did know was mostly swear words. He may not have been the most popular kid in school, or as friendly as his dumbass of a brother, but he eventually found his niche - and that was with the ladies.
Instead of having lovely Italian beauties on his arm, he had to deal with crass American girls - but, hey, they were still lovely ladies. Maybe not quite what he had envisioned at the start of puberty, but there were some perks to being in America. One major plus he found was that his accent and the way he could coo out the most nonsense Italian words would have girls swooning over him in seconds. Except maybe those girls who knew just as much Italian as he did, or with mothers that would chase him out of their kitchen when they heard just what nonsense words he said in Italian to their daughters. But, whatever, he didn’t have to bother with them. There were plenty of ladies in the Big Apple, and Lovino was good at wooing them.
He was a practiced (and skilled, shut up) flirt, easily charming ladies into a night out with him. He could wine and dine the girls in the classiest restaurants, dress up in Versace and Armani, and smile just right to make them blush. Oh, he could easily have girls on his arm, even with the mishaps his temper provided now and again.
The problem was that he couldn’t seem to convince someone to stay around for more than one date.
He wasn’t sure why exactly - he was perfectly charming during dates, showing any girl around in style, making sure they had a wonderful time with him. Maybe his Italian charm really was too much for their fragile American hearts. Maybe they were just fucking stupid. But, for whatever reason, something would come up and nip whatever he had started right in the bud. Either the girl simply wasn’t interested in him beyond that one date, or his temper would at some point flare, and the girl would ignore his phone calls for the next week. (Which, really, that was all stupid as hell, because even Lovino at his worst was a fucking classy bastard. Wasn’t his fault they couldn’t handle a few well placed curse words or telling the waiter just what a dumbass he was for bringing the wrong wine again.)
Suffice to say, after a long string of single dates (he was not the one date wonder, shut the fuck up), even Lovino Vargas had grown tired. Lovely ladies falling for a word or two for a night was nice, and perhaps he really had the ultimate bachelor life (minus a lot of the supposed sex he was supposed to be having in such a situation), but it wasn’t what he really wanted.
Lovino was a romantic at heart, and going on dates was supposed to lead to a life of bliss with some lovely lady on his arm for life, and a couple of stupid kids running around and calling him papa. But, none of that was happening. He hadn’t had a single serious relationship so far - minus one with his old Belgian friend Emmeline, but his awkward stuttering and long time crush on her had ended up with her taking pity and dissolving it after but a month of dating. (He didn’t like to talk about it.)
At first he’d been embarrassed by it, hell outright offended that Feliciano had even suggested it to him, but he’d eventually caved and made a profile on a dating website that catered to European immigrants living in America. While dating Americans had been nice, maybe a change of pace - and nationality - would be a breath of fresh air into his dating life. After a few helpful, more truthful changes to it - “Lovino, you don’t really own a Ferrari or a mansion in Napoli.” “Shut up, Feliciano.” - he was ready to hit the confusingly open world of online dating. Or, so he thought.
Weeks passed. No one messaged him. Girls he messaged ignored his messages, or changed their relationship statuses to being involved with someone else as soon as he managed to do work up the courage to talk to them. This seemed to be a bigger source of bullshit than his history of dates in person.
But then, oh, then, this angel messaged him. The screen name she had was kind of stupid - tomate_deamor2, seriously? - but she seemed like a waking dream to Lovino. The girl was drop dead gorgeous (at least according to her profile picture, although she was posing with some dumb guy, apparently a sibling or something), was sweeter than sugar (albeit a little airheaded, but he could deal), and loved tomatoes (the holy grail of foods). She was Spanish to boot, having just moved from Granada about five months before. Spanish may not be Italian, but he figured it was close enough to pass. While Italian was far better in all degrees, the Spanish did have that similar brand of passion and fire and romance - and similar languages to boot. It was all major pluses in Lovino’s book, and she honestly seemed to like him. A few awkward flirts from Lovino made her laugh - or whatever LOL :) three times in a row meant - and she actively chattered with Lovino via the chat program on the site.
It wasn’t long until they were talking daily, exchanging messages as soon as either of them got online. Actual names weren’t allowed to be shared via the site, and Lovino wasn’t entirely keen on giving his away anyway - he didn’t really know this girl, after all. She didn’t seem very concerned by his shyness, or his unwillingness to share pictures of himself. While he doubted he knew the girl in real life (like hell he would forget a body or a face like that), he couldn’t bring himself to send her anything truly personal. Really, what if someone he knew saw his picture and gave him hell about it later? He’d die from embarrassment. It was bad enough he was using a dating site already.
They shared other things instead - foods they liked, what they enjoyed doing, minor details about their jobs and family life. She sounded perfect. She loved to cook (although most of it was Spanish dishes, naturally, which Lovino could forgive considering she enjoyed Italian food as well), liked to sing and dance, loved wine, and had a big annoying (mostly Catholic) family just like Lovino. It wasn’t long until he found himself falling hard for the girl, stupid screen name and all. He was thinking of her constantly, even outside of that stupid little computer screen he connected to her with. He was daydreaming about her at work to the point he nearly spilt coffee all over himself and made an ass of himself in front of his grandfather’s old clients. It’d gotten to the point he was agonizing over her as he fell asleep. It was fucking serious, all right.
They’d been doing the chatting back and forth - and setting their statues to “dating”, much to Lovino’s embarrassment at first - for a half a year and Lovino was starting to feel antsy. Would she ever want to meet in person? He’d been too shy to share any real photos of himself to her, even in private (because even if someone he knew saw it, the true horror would be her not being interested after that), and they hadn’t talked yet about how far away they lived from each other. Maybe she lived in California? Or, god forbid, Alaska? What would he do then? What if she didn’t want to actually see him in person, but just use him as an emotional outlet online? Fuck if he knew. All he knew is he wanted to hold her, and text clients didn’t exactly allow for physical contact.
After three weeks of biting his nails and pacing angrily around his room while he talked to her, he finally hit broke and asked her to visit for New Year’s Eve. They could see the sites, do all that stupid couple stuff New York offered, just. Be together. Get to know each other in person. Something Lovino was getting scared over how much he wanted. After an agonizing five minutes, she responded with a “of course!!! :) Id luv 2 meet u n person” and Lovino’s heart just about stopped. Once they shared a place, time, and general assurances of they’d both be there, he shut off his computer with the most confusing state of mind and emotional mess he’d ever felt.
His internet girlfriend was going to visit him. For the first time.
God, that was not something he ever thought he was going to say.
-----------------
Lovino was ready for this date. He was goddamn ready for this date. And when Lovino Vargas was ready for a date, he was ready.
He'd spent hours carefully picking out his clothing. He put on the best red silk shirt he had, and a sharp black tie tied loosely around his collar. He tried on suit after suit until he made sure he had the one that cut against his frame just right. He had on his best cologne, and his best watch. He'd even practiced his best charming smile in the mirror. Lovino had made sure that every single aspect of him screamed that he was a catch. A goddamn handsome catch. A catch that would make any lady swoon for this date he was about to set out on.
Didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous as hell, though.
Even if it had started out online, this was the first real - or at least close to real - relationship he’d ever been in. He didn’t know what to do with himself as he waited at the restaurant he picked out - a classy, high scale (as high as he could afford, anyway) Italian place. Lovino kept picking at his suit for any stray lint or fuzz, and checking his watch anxiously. What if she stood him up? What if she never showed? He had given her the place and table number, right? He’d even choked down some nerves and given her his last name, against site rules and all. He didn’t know what he’d do with himself if she didn’t show up - or if she came, sat down, and just laughed at him.
Ten minutes past go time, and Lovino was ready to choke himself on the wine he had ordered a half hour ago in a fit of nerves. I’ll wait an hour. I’ll wait an hour and if she doesn’t show, then. Then I’ll get online and see if she just missed a flight or something. Must be that. Yeah, must be that. Fuck, she’s Spanish, she’s probably just late to begin with.
His mental reverie was interrupted though when someone sat across the table across from him. Nearly fumbling the wine glass in stupid excitement and surprise, he actually almost did spill it on himself when he saw just who was sitting across from him.
It wasn’t a girl. No, it was some dumb, absent-minded looking guy, staring at him curiously. Maybe not even curiously, but expectantly, which was even fucking weirder. The man was handsome, he had to admit, with bouncy chocolate curls wrapping around his dumb head, and stunningly green eyes staring intently at Lovino’s probably awkwardly contorted face. He had a nose and facial structure that screamed Mediterranean heritage, and skin that showed that he’d had some time in the sun. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with his wine, Lovino might’ve noticed more of the man’s body, including the fact that he was surprisingly fit for a guy who looked dumber than the side of a barn. Or whatever. He looked dumb as shit. Or at least airheaded enough to walk into a pole if he was distracted enough. Regardless of details, a rather good-looking guy was staring Lovino down, instead of the rather jaw dropping gorgeous girl he expected.
Lovino gaped for a long moment, a million confused thoughts crossing across his mind until his brain finally caught up, a large, displeased frown twisting his face.
“Who the hell are you?”
The goddamn idiot had the nerve to smile, tilting his head to the side with that same dumbass curious look to his face. Just. Smiling now. “I’m here to meet my date?”
Lovino felt his brain halt. Again. “Well, sorry, bud, but this table’s taken.”
“Oh, no no no no,” the half-wit said, his voice oddly accented. “I was told to meet her here. She gave me this table number and everything!”
If Lovino could have vomited in anger and confusion he would have. In fact, his stomach was very much so favouring the idea, especially onto this man in front of him that was slowly shattering his world and everything inside of it. Clearly this guy had to be confused. Or mentally deranged. Or both. Probably both. Both was good.
“Bullshit, I gave my date this table number and time. And place. You must have your information wrong,” Lovino spat out, glaring down the man across from him with every fibre of his angry being. The more Lovino stared, the more he realized that the man was oddly familiar, stupid and airheaded as he was. Maybe he just had a face that was that kind of face that looked like someone you knew or whatever. People had faces like that, right? It wasn’t like he would’ve seen this person before. Not even online or anything, right? Maybe he was in a Facebook feed of some stupid relative’s or something. Must be it.
“No, I’m pretty sure this is the right place. I wrote it down!” the other man said, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. (What the hell was that accent, and why was it so familiar?) “I really tend to forget things, you see, so I write down important stuff, like this! I really didn’t want to be late either, but I didn’t realize how bad New York traffic is, I haven’t been here in ages, and I didn’t know that taxis actually cost quite a bit from LaGuardia to Manhattan, did you know that-“
Lovino was rubbing his temples in frustration, trying his hardest to not just kick the guy and be done with it. This guy could go on, and he seemed to be determined to use every word in his English vocabulary by the end of it. It was clear it wasn’t his first language, and Lovino was finally piecing together where he’d heard that kind of accent before - stuck with his family in some stupid Spanish beach town with a lot of stupid Spaniards brokenly speaking English to the large amount of British expats that flocked to their shores. When the guy finally paused to breathe (again), Lovino cut him off, staring at him with every wish that the man would simply disappear. “Look, cazzo, I’m here to meet someone, and you really need to just fucking clear out, or my date isn’t going to show up.”
The man stopped his ramble, staring at him curiously, before chuckling awkwardly. “I don’t want to miss my date either.”
Lovino sighed, pressing his face into his palms. “Look, whatever, did this chick give you a name? Maybe I can help you find her or some shit.”
The man perked up, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! Yes she did! Just her last name though, you see, she’s so shy, and I didn’t want to push her and all, you know, especially since we’ve only known each other-“
“What is her name,” Lovino ground out, trying not to bite the side of his mouth hard enough to bleed in pure and utter frustration.
The man grinned the sunniest beaming smile Lovino had ever seen as he uttered the one name that could’ve possibly shattered his entire world, in all of his Spanish accented too good-looking glory. “Vargas!”
Oh fuck him. Fuck him all the way to hell.
-----------------
Lovino had spent probably fifteen minutes cursing wildly in the restaurant’s bathroom - after he’d been politely told to excuse himself by the waiter who heard him scream three different forms of “fuck” in Italian at the table - smashing his head against the (thankfully clean) tile walls of a stall. He’d probably scared every other patron in the restroom - or the restaurant, he didn’t really care anymore - but he was having his moment, his moment of god why me why me why would you do this I hate you so fucking much and the bathroom was the most apt place at the moment.
Lovino had to have the luck to end up connecting to a man online, thinking blithely for months that he was falling for a gorgeous lady. It turns out that tomate_deamor2 was not the gorgeous woman in the photo on his profile, but instead the rather idiotic looking man next to her. That was his sibling - or more accurately, older sister - who lived in Portugal. Lovino had been unwittingly talking to the younger brother for the past six months, never realizing the true identity of the person behind it.
Thinking back on it, neither of them had really used gender specific pronouns, and the rest of their discussions had been vague enough to mask anything that should’ve stood out as a clue. Lovino hadn’t bothered to ask, because why in the fuck would he? The idiot who sat across from Lovino hadn’t listed his gender, claiming he was a bit confused by the options on the site and left it blank. Considering what Lovino knew about Spaniards and English - let alone this specific Spanish idiot using the internet - it absolutely believable. It didn’t help that what he did fill out on the website only filled Lovino’s hopes that he really was a girl - such as listing things like Juilo Iglesias and other cheesy Spanish ballad singers as his favourite musical artists. (Seriously, what self-respecting man listed that as their favourite singers? Lovino may have had Italian opera singers listed, but they were good. They weren’t fucking Enrique Iglesias’ father.) It didn’t help that the “girlfriend” admitted he hadn’t even really bothered to fully read Lovino’s profile online, focusing on the things that had seemed attractive instead of, oh, something like the fact that he was male.
The whole ordeal really would’ve been quite funny if it hadn’t happened to Lovino. Maybe he could laugh at it later, when he’d had far too many drinks to be healthy and cried pitifully because of insane levels of embarrassment and shame. Maybe he would even take up that offer of a physiatrist appointment that Feliciano’s disgusting German boyfriend kept offering him. Right now, however, all he wanted to do was fade hopelessly into the tile in front of him. Or scream some more.
He’d left Antonio sitting rather dumbly and confusedly at the table, looking rather nonplussed with finding out his internet girlfriend of three months had actually turned out to be a guy. Oh, the damned fool had just shrugged it off, looking concerned as Lovino yelled obscenities and stalked off to the restroom. Lovino would’ve felt bad for leaving the idiot there with such a stupid look on his face if he wasn’t currently ready to tear his face off and be done with it. It was the end of the year, and he was going to leave it off with “accidentally dated a man online for three months.” What a riot.
The creaking of the bathroom door caught Lovino’s attention from his very heated argument with himself, listening as the feet stopped in front of his stall.
“…Lovino?”
Fuck. It was Antonio.
“Lovino, I know you’re in there, the waiter told me where the bathroom was and, honestly, I could hear you from across the restaurant.”
Fuck.
“Do… do you want to talk about it more?” God, the guy actually sounded concerned. Worried, even. That bothered Lovino even more.
“No, I do not want to talk about it more!” Lovino snapped, wishing he could bury himself into the grapevine themed tiles of the bathroom.
He could hear Antonio’s awkward shuffling outside the door, and a sigh. “Well, I’d like to talk about it.” All Lovino could do is sniffle pathetically. Fuck this all to hell. “Maybe we could talk about it over drinks? I wouldn’t mind that dinner, either.”
God, could his life get anyway more awkward.
It took a little more coaxing on Antonio’s part, but Lovino was eventually lured out of his stall of anger and frustration, sitting back down at their original table - much to their waiter’s chagrin. He was hungry, after all, and he wasn’t going to let the reservation he had to use his contacts for go to waste - which had involved calling his grandfather and asking him to make the reservation, which was painfully humiliating, thank you very much. The company may not have been what he wanted, but he was going to stuff himself full of food and wine as if it was going to be the last thing he did.
While the food was good, the dinner itself with his date was long and blundering - Antonio kept trying desperately to connect to Lovino again, who was really fully intent on making sure he ordered enough wine to get through this. Lovino had to give the poor sap credit for honestly trying to at least apologize for the horrendous screw up they had both landed in, being surprisingly - although, not too surprisingly, considering the person he had gotten to know online - patient with him, chatting his way aimlessly through the dinner in a hope to get Lovino talking again.
It was strange, but Lovino felt like he should at least have the dinner with Antonio. He could’ve easily gotten up and left as soon as he ate at least a little, or just plain walked off, gotten another table, or found another place to have dinner somewhere. But something tugged at him, whether it was Antonio himself or something else - that and the idea that Antonio would’ve chased him all over New York City if Lovino left. They had, as he shuddered to think, been romantically involved with each other for the past three months. Even finding out the other person was not the gender either of them expected was not enough to make Lovino forget how much he had liked the stupid fucker - and, apparently, how much Antonio had liked him.
Maybe it was just guilt for stringing Antonio along in a way, or Lovino just feeling crushed and wanting at least some sort of connection that night, but they ended up sharing the entire stupid dinner together. And then, with some help from Antonio so he could lumber to it, at the bar across the street, downing enough drinks to ensure the bar would survive through the upcoming year.
Once the countdown to midnight rolled around, Lovino was vaguely aware of Antonio’s hand curled around his, staring at him with those stupidly intense green eyes again. It was making him nervous for some reason, heart-beating-stupidly-flushed-face nervous, and it made him swallow dryly, wishing he had another drink in his hand. The people around them were excited, clamouring drunkenly around each other. Some couples were already curled up together, getting ready to kiss at midnight. Everyone else was too focused on partying and celebrating, or drinking themselves stupider than they had ever been in the past year. Nobody cared about the two drunken foreign men staring awkwardly at each other in some corner.
“Lovino,” Antonio muttered, still sounding stupidly attractive in a way that made Lovino uncomfortable if he thought too much about it, even though he knew Antonio was stunningly drunk as well. “Lovino, I have to let you know something.”
“10, 9, 8-!”
“What, you stupid bastard,” Lovino slurred stubbornly in response, trying to make sure he was staring at him straight, but most likely swaying like he was sure the world currently was.
“7, 6, 5-!”
“I have to let you know,” Antonio paused, as if trying to recollect his original plan. He nodded once he caught up to his train of thought, clutching Lovino’s hand tighter in his. “I don’t care that you’re a guy. I love you all the same.”
“4, 3, 2-!”
Lovino gulped. Something in him bent - or maybe broke, he wasn’t sure what it was. All he knew was Antonio was staring at him like he was the most beautiful, amazing thing in the goddamn universe, and -
“1-!”
Lovino felt that way about Antonio, too.
“Happy New Year! ”
In what was probably the most alcohol (and something else) fuelled kiss Lovino ever had in his life, he crushed Antonio’s lips against his, listening to Antonio’s happy, relieved sigh as the world rang in the New Year noisily around them.
-----------------
Lovino woke up the next morning with the most utterly pounding hangover he had in years. The sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to be in the form of intense pain, and he wanted nothing more than to roll back into his sheets and shut it all out. In fact, the first thing he did was to grip at the sheets wrapped around him, trying to pull them closer and over his aching head. And, while he did grab at sheets, he grabbed something else as well. Or, as the sleepy hum next to him indicated, someone else.
Lovino nearly darted out of the bed and across the room as soon as he felt skin against his own. But, considering his head felt ready to split open and spill messily all over him, he very quickly settled for dizzily sitting up instead.
“Who- I- What?!“ Lovino sputtered uselessly for a good moment, staring blearily at the unfamiliar room around him - and the rather unfortunately familiar bedmate. Antonio was sleepily mumbling next to him, burrowing in closer to Lovino’s warm (and the stolen sheets, probably). Which, while looked far cuter than a grown man should ever look, was faintly disturbing since the man happily nuzzling Lovino’s thigh was not wearing any shirt. A quick scan of the room proved that Antonio’s clothing was dumped unceremoniously on the floor, along with Lovino’s. Whatever had happened last night, both of them had ended up at a hotel - most likely the one Antonio was staying in for his visit - sans their clothing.
A fresh wave of nausea swept over Lovino as his head spun, taking in everything at the pace of a train crashing through his thought process. God, just what had he done?
While quietly vowing to himself to never ever ever drink again, Antonio started to stir, sitting up and staring at Lovino with a dazed look. Lovino stared right back, gripping the sheets up against his - cold and uncomfortably bare - chest. Antonio smiled back sleepily, and Lovino could almost see the cogs turn in his head until something finally clicked, and then the dopey Spaniard went stiff and rigid.
“Ah.” Was, apparently, all Antonio had to say.
“Ah?” Lovino ground out, staring daggers at the man next to him. “Ah is all you have to say to this situation?”
Antonio had the decency to look sheepish for a moment, at least until a confused look swept across his face instead. “…It’s a situation?”
Lovino sputtered, fighting the urge to bury his face into his hands and just leave. Do the walk of shame and go home and never mention this to anyone ever. (And go to the priest with the most confusing confession he would ever give in his life, but that was later.) “Yes, it’s a fucking situation, you moron. Just what the hell happened last night?”
Antonio stared for a good moment - either he was trying to understand what Lovino meant, or was trying to piece together his own drunken memories. But, he eventually shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m… not sure? We were both pretty drunk.”
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Lovino muttered, rubbing at his temples again. “I don’t even remember getting here, though. What happened?”
Antonio paused again, and this time Lovino could see something going on with the idiot, considering his eyes twinkled and then a flush formed on his cheeks. “Well. We. We kissed at midnight-“
Lovino could feel a twinge of something go through him - hopefully pain, because the opposite was starting to scare him - and he gritted his teeth, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I remember that, I mean after.”
Antonio nodded, still looking like he was riding on the coattails some sort of stupidly happy dream. “Yes, well, you kissed me at midnight, and. Well, we were pretty drunk, so we only really kissed for a little while, and then you fell asleep on the bar! It was pretty funny, but I think you were really tired, and you were muttering something about how you never do this, another thing about how a man shouldn’t have an ass that nice, and how could you let down your mother like that- I don’t know, it was pretty weird, but I didn’t know where you lived, and the hotel I’m staying at wasn’t very far, so we came here!”
The rambling was not the most pleasant thing to hungover ears, but Lovino just nodded, trying to cover his eyes from the bright sun - and even seeing that overjoyed face on Antonio. “Yeah, okay, okay, I get it. Drunken rambling and going to a hotel besides, why in the fuck are we naked?”
He could feel Antonio shift on the bed, obviously nervous. The answer, however, wasn’t what he expected. “I don’t know.”
Lovino pulled his hands away from his face, staring at the man across from him. “What do you mean, you don’t know? How could you not know? I mean, it’s not every day you wake up naked in a damn hotel with someone you thought was the opposite gender while dating online for three months!”
Antonio made a very strange face - Lovino couldn’t tell if it was happy, sad, or just confused, maybe a mix of the three - before scratching his neck again, shrugging. “I honestly don’t know. Like I said, I was pretty drunk too, and as soon as I got us up to the hotel room, I blacked out.”
Lovino sputtered, burying his face back into his hands. All he could think was this is not happening, this is not happening. He’d had his handful of waking up in an unfamiliar bed after too many drinks, but. This was unfamiliar and scary, and diving into a territory Lovino had never ventured into before.
Never before in his life had he been even bare minimum attracted to a man, let alone in any sort of situation where something had even made him seriously think about it. But, here he was, sitting in bed next to a naked, blithely confused Spanish man, who looked more confused that Lovino was confused than anything else. A Spanish man who looked way too good for Lovino to feel comfortable with himself or his currently very confused sexuality, especially as he could finally see all of the rather nice body the man had. Or at least the top half. The top half was nice enough, and from what he remembered of his (clothed) ass, that was very nice, too.
Lovino groaned, wanting to melt into the sheets of the bed beneath him and never resurface. The whole thing was a giant, confusing, and disgusting mess, and Lovino wanted nothing more than to backtrack and undo the past six months.
But, a cautious, very gentle hand around his shoulders stopped him.
“Look,” Antonio started off softly, “This. This doesn’t have to be anything, or mean anything, okay? I can cancel my reservation for the next night, change my airline tickets and just go home. You won’t have to talk to me again, okay?”
Lovino desperately wanted to nod, confirming the idea and quickly dart out of the room as soon as he could. But, Antonio sounded hurt. He sounded sad. Lovino felt his heart twist despite himself, and he found that leaving sounded less and less like a good idea, and more and more like something that would hurt himself, too.
Which, at first thought, seemed really rather stupid - it was what he wanted, right? To get rid of the man that was making him very, very confused, and to just ease back into his life as it was before. Back to normalcy, back to knowing exactly what he liked and what he wanted, and what to do with himself. But, that wasn’t so good either, was it? He had started this whole online dating thing to connect with someone he could actually fall for, and - unfortunately for the gender part of it - he had. He didn’t want to go back to dating people that never called him back, or to a life where he didn’t even like the people he was dating. The damn, stupid idiot of the man next to him was still the person he had liked and chatted endlessly to online, and that was what Lovino was finding so hard to come to terms with.
Lovino slowly peeked an eye out from under his hands, confirming that Antonio looked a lot less like the sun incarnate, and more like someone had just cancelled Christmas. He seemed heartbroken in a way, and the hand on his shoulder gripped him gently. “We don’t have to do anything about this.”
They were both quiet for a long moment, Lovino trying to desperately think of something to say or do. Nothing really seemed quite right - what he wanted to do went against what he felt was what he actually should do, and Antonio just looked ready to cry. Lovino had always been weak to crying women, but Antonio was - well, Lovino knew already that the dumbass was special.
With a sigh, Lovino shook his head, pulling his hands away from his face. “No, that’s stupid,” he admitted, half to himself, and half to Antonio. He could see Antonio relax instantly out of the corner of his eye, staring at him just as expectantly as he had done in the restaurant last night. “This is - well, it’s goddamn weird, but it’s not something we can exactly just fucking forget and back out of, right? I mean-“ he scowled, feeling his throat tighten as his nerves flared. “Well, we’ve been in a goddamn relationship for three months, and friends for six already. Even I’m not so callous to walk out on that.”
Antonio just nodded as he gripped Lovino’s shoulder again, looking like he had just been handed the entire world on a plate. (God in heaven, this guy was going to take some getting used to.) Lovino rolled his eyes in response, shaking his head again. “Stop it with the fucking faces, alright. I can’t handle them when I’m this hungover.”
Antonio just laughed, which was a bright sound, happy and warm and it made something in Lovino’s chest flutter annoyingly. In fact, that all too annoying sunlight streaming through the windows made Antonio’s face just as bright as his laughter as well, his eyes standing out like gems as he smiled - as cheesy and cliché as that damn thought was. The man really was rather handsome, all messy and sunny like this stupid morning was. It made Lovino stop and stare at him, caught in his own little moment of stupidity, wondering how in the hell he was in a situation like this - and with an awkwardly beating heart on top of it.
The pressure of Antonio’s hand still on his shoulder brought back the same feelings from last night - of a similar sort of longing Lovino hadn’t had since Emmeline rejected his stupid little seventeen year old heart - and made him act without thinking, once again.
He shifted, leaning in towards Antonio, watching with a faint sense of amusement as Antonio’s eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed. This time, the kiss was nowhere as sloppy and broken as the kiss they shared in the bar at midnight, but more substantial, something more like a kiss he had been daydreaming about for the past week. It was a little hesitant and gentle for Lovino’s tastes, but it was proper and made his head nearly burst - especially as Antonio kissed him back, the hand on his shoulder bringing him closer and further into the kiss. They kissed for a good solid minute or two, neither pulling away easily once the world came back into focus again.
It was weird, but Lovino knew in an instant that his feelings were not at all different. That stupid confusion seemed to slowly ebb away, replaced by such a concrete certainty that Lovino was a little terrified of. He knew that Antonio was, well, he was Antonio, and not the pretty girl he had wanted, but for some reason that was completely fine. He could only think of the person he had gotten to know online, and none of that bothered him - in fact, it made him love the stupid idiot even more. It was confusing to no end, and his heart was doing double time, but he was sure that was something they would talk about, considering it all. Lovino could get over the absolutely ridiculous fact that he was quite fond of an idiot man later.
But, for now, he just felt his cheeks flush as he glared at the idiot gripping the back of his head still. “Oi, say something, jerk.”
Antonio was still staring at him in some sort of blissful, happy shock for a moment before he grinned wide and bright, choosing action over words, nearly tackling Lovino as he smothered him with kisses all over again.
-----------------
It was later on in the day when both of them finally rolled out of bed - after several make out sessions, which was actually quite nice with a man, as Lovino soon discovered - doing all of the stupid touristy things he had promised Antonio. They had already spent some time bustling around the city, and now Lovino was trying to tug a very excited Antonio to the Empire State Building for their next stop. His now very much so boyfriend was humming and holding on happily to his hand as they walked around the city, obviously on cloud nine and talking at a mile a minute as they finally got to know each other in person.
However, it was when Antonio finally started to remember the night before that Lovino nearly hit him upside the head again.
“Oh! You thought we had sex?” Antonio prompted after finally worming out what a fairly embarrassed Lovino was trying to ask.
“What the fuck do you think I was asking?” he hissed in response, throwing a dirty look at a few people who stared. It was embarrassing enough to ask what he had done when drunk, let alone what proper gay sex entailed - it wasn’t something he had exactly researched, never finding a reason to when looking at ladies and flirting with them was quite enough, you know. And, Francis’ staggering collection of porn was so ridiculously unrealistic he wasn’t going to trust what he had gleaned from that - and discussions he did not want to remember - as actual fact. (That, and hearing Ludwig trying to recite directions as Feliciano rolled his eyes and pulled them into their bedroom had scarred Lovino for life on that matter.)
“Well, I wasn’t sure, you know,” Antonio said, laughing a little. “And I don’t think we did.”
Lovino stared, trying to ignore the person behind them who nearly crashed into the two of them as he stopped short, ignoring the angry curse snapped at him. “What do you mean we didn’t? What was with all the clothing off and then-“ he gulped, electing to scowl instead. Words were difficult sometimes, shut up.
Antonio laughed again, planting a kiss on Lovino’s cheek as he pulled him forward, getting them moving again - and making a rather embarrassed blush spread across Lovino’s cheeks. “You said you like to sleep naked, and honestly, I was drunk enough that it sounded like a wonderful idea at the time.”
Lovino nearly wanted to smash his face into the Empire State Building at that. Naturally, that would be the reason.
“Besides,” Antonio said with a bit of a shrug, “My ass doesn’t hurt.”
Lovino nearly walked right into the door then, sputtering wildly. “Don’t say shit like that in public, you damn idiot!”
The laugh as Antonio kissed him gently on the lips made him blush the whole way up to the top.