"I-Italy. I hardly think this is appropriate," Germany was used to dealing with Italy's friendliness by now. Admittedly, it often bordered on indecency, but it wouldn't be a concern for him if it weren't for the fact that... he actually found the other incredibly... endearing.
Yes, endearing was one word for it. However, at present, an overexcited Italy had climbed on top of him. It started out simply enough; he'd gotten into bed with him - not an unusual occurrence - and started rambling about food.
"What?! Germany! You've never had Tiramisu?!" he'd exclaimed, sitting bolt upright and turning to the other. "You have to! It's... it's everything that is right about life! Chocolate, liquor, coffee... Aah, Germany~"
Apparently, he hadn't shared enough of Italy's enthusiasm to satisfy him, because the excitable country got closer and closer, insisting on the deliciousness of said dessert.
"I know! I will make it for you! Then, you'll know!"
-And that brought things back to the present, with Italy crawling on top of him.
Italy seemed to deflate a little bit, pouting at the country below him. "What do you mean, "appropriate"? Germany, we're friends, right?"
This flustered the blonde. "O-of course. But, friends don't-"
"I like you Germany," Italy said, cutting his objection short. "Why do you always worry about what is proper and appropriate? We sleep together sometimes, don't we?"
Germany knew what Italy meant. It wasn't hard to realize it, but at the same time, he always spoke so carelessly. He was innocent in his own way, and it threw Germany off. He didn't know how to deal with someone this open, but...
"Germany," Italy spoke again, bringing him out of his reverie. He leaned in effortlessly and brushed their lips together.
This had the same effect such affections usually did, Germany stiffened slightly and a small blush graced his features. He reached out, trying to move Italy away gently.
This time, however, Italy did not allow himself to be pushed away from his goal. He made a small noise of displeasure.
"Germany..." he tried to move the other's hands aside, and could only gather that he had been allowed to, because as far as strength went, Germany was far his superior. He leaned in, trying again, and he was not refused.
The two kissed softly at first, exploring each other in a more intimate way, but it quickly escalated. Soon, their lips were crushed against each other and their tongues dueled. Italy did not know who deepened the kiss, but the thought that it might have been Germany made little butterflies dance in his stomach.
They parted at last, breathless, and Germany looked up at the other. "Italy... Feliciano," he muttered, one corner of his mouth turning up in something that almost resembled a smile, reaching up to run his hand through Italy's hair.
The smaller of the two smiled broadly to hear the other call him by his name, and he nearly pounced him, hugging him tight.
"Ludwig~!" He exclaimed happily, but then his back straightening quite suddenly as Germany found his ahoge curl. "A-aah..."
For a moment, Ludwig paused, before he realized what he had done. "That's right," he said lowly, an almost mischievous undertone to his voice. "This is sensitive, isn't it..."
Meanwhile, Romano had just set out a late-night snack for himself and his visitor. It wasn't only lately that Spain had taken to showing up uninvited, but the closer they got, the less regard he seemed to have for time. Admittedly, the elder nation had kept him entertained long enough that it was suddenly quite late and they'd both realized they hadn't had nearly enough for dinner, so it couldn't be all that bad...
Not that he'd admit it.
"Aah, it smells good, Lovi!" Antonio grinned, having a seat at the table. "But, eggs and tomato?" he chuckled.
"Don't get used to it," Romano grumbled, sitting down across from him, unceremoniously digging his fork into his dish of food. "It's la cucina povera. Simple ingredients, but the result is more than the sum of its parts, see?"
"I see," Spain smiled, having a bite of his own. He loved the reluctance that Romano showed, if only because he knew it meant very little. If Romano truly disliked him, he would never let him stay - especially not for as long as he often did. He also loved the way that calling him by his true name made the other shift awkwardly and look away, but he wouldn't abuse that power.
They ate in silence for a few moments, though Antonio quite honestly spent just as much time watching Lovino. Of course, when the other made a small noise and then looked up suddenly, as if embarrassed by it, he shrugged it off, trying to put the other at ease by speaking once more.
"It tastes as good as it smells," he commented, watching him carefully. Romano looked genuinely uncomfortable, his cheeks slowly reddening, shifting slightly, distracted from his food.
"Yeah... Glad. I mean, I'm glad... I-I mean, whatever... I'm not cooking it again..." he muttered in response. He wasn't quite sure what was happening, but he had an idea. And if that was the case, he needed to leave - now. But he couldn't stand up, that would make everything painfully obvious. He moaned before he could stop it, his flush increasing threefold.
"Lovi," Antonio's brows furrowed in concern and he stood, hurrying over to him and taking his face in his hands. "Are you all right?"
"I'm... mhhnn, I'm fine..." Romano tried to hold it back, closing his eyes for a moment.
Antonio wasn't sure about that; he was acting too strangely. "Do you have a fever..?" He leaned down, touching his forehead against Lovino's.
Romano's eyes shot open, and he grabbed Antonio's wrist, fully intending to move his hand away from his cheek. Instead, his hold tightened and he let out a shuddering breath. His breathing was quickly becoming labored, his lips parted slightly in a failed attempt to steady it.
"I... I'm fine, Antonio," he managed, sounding frustrated, but there was a weaker underlying tone, something that made his voice just a little lower, a little breathier than normal.
"I don't believe you," Spain said softly, running the thumb of his uncaptured hand over the other's cheekbone, watching him in concern.
"It- it's... A-aah," Lovino shut his eyes tightly, holding on to Antonio's wrist with a desperate grip.
Something strange was certainly going on. Romano had the symptoms of a fever; sweat had begun to appear on his brow, his face was flushed... and the fact that he was moaning, one would think he was in pain. But it was just that, his moans, that made Spain suspicious. He'd never heard someone who was injured make those sorts of noises. He watched as Lovino bit his lower lip, clearly trying to hide the noises he was producing, though it was much too late for that. Still, he had to be responsible, and try to take care of the younger country. "Lovino, stand up. Come on, I'll take you to bed,"
"N... Ngh," Romano tried to protest, but found his voice lost. He had little strength left in him, so when Spain pulled him up, heavily supporting his weight as he started to head toward the bedroom, he didn't have much of a choice other than to comply.
"That idiot..." Lovino muttered, and Antonio looked over with mild curiosity, wondering vaguely who Romano was referring to, until the frustrated nation added "Feliciano..." in a rather threatening tone.
He continued to move Romano toward the bedroom, though now he was really curious as to what was going on. When he looked down and saw a rather obvious clue on his companion, he paused in the doorway to the bedroom. "All right, Lovi," he said gently, propping him up against the doorframe. "Why don't you tell me what, exactly, is going on..?"
"N-nothing!" Romano said a little too quickly, looking for a way to escape.
"I said I don't believe you, Lovino, but of course, I know you don't want me to ask," Spain smiled sympathetically, trailing his fingertips over the side of the other's neck, caressing him gently.
"Then don't! Argh, stop that!" Romano protested, the light contact against his hypersensitive skin driving him crazy.
Antonio obliged, rest his hand there at the crook of his neck. "Then tell me. I will understand,"
Romano huffed. "I doubt it. It's... a-hnn... it's my stupid... brother," he managed.
"Feliciano?" Antonio was intrigued, but he couldn't help himself. To have Lovino this close to him, all hot and bothered... he began to run his hand through the other's hair. "What does he have to do with anything..?"
"Aah- THAT!" Romano cried out as Antonio found his hair curl, reaching up on almost pure instinct and wrenching his hand away. "Don't - touch - that! It's G-hhn," he was quickly losing himself, finding his ability to speak coherently slipping away. "My brother and I, we share..."
Though Lovino could not properly explain, Spain was beginning to get the idea. And a more sadistic nation may have taken full advantage of this, but he knew that he'd much rather have Lovino acting this way because of something he did. Still, he couldn't say he was disappointed in the least when Romano suddenly latched on to him.
Of course, this was in part due to the fact that he could no longer stand on his own. He grasped at Antonio's shirt, and the older nation guided him back until he was the one propped against the other side of the doorframe, and Romano leaned against him. He made a low noise in his throat; the way Lovino was squirming against him was doing nothing to help him concentrate and take care of him. He settled for burying his face in the other's hair, holding him tight.
Romano did not have the strength of will to object to any of this. He clung to Spain tightly, resting his face against his shoulder. He was sure the embarrassed blush alone was turning him completely red, and then everything else on top of it..? He wanted to kiss Antonio's neck, it was right there. But he would never do something like that!
He felt his knees start to buckle slightly and then Spain pulled him even closer. He couldn't take it any more - the arms around him, firm hands holding him tightly, the scent of the other... he moaned loudly against Antonio's shoulder, hoping the fabric muffled it as he fell against him, holding him tight as he came, making a mess of his pants.
It seemed that they stood there forever, but it was really only a few seconds before Lovino felt his legs threaten to give out. Likely sensing this, Antonio loosened his grip slightly, only enough to scoop him up into his arms.
"What- What are you..?!" Romano tried to protest, but it didn't sound as threatening as he usually managed, seeing as he was still desperately trying to catch his breath.
"I am putting you to bed, Lovi, like I promised," Spain informed him, carrying him the short distance there and setting him down gently before crawling onto the bed as well. "I'd like to join you, if that's all right,"
"Of course it's not all right, what are you-" Romano was cut off as that hand began to play with his hair again.
"Don't be embarrassed," Spain chuckled, smiling down at the other. "I think... it's only fair that you have your fun, too..."