Title: My Brother's Boyfriend.
Author: SYNdicate 930.
Summary: AU. Being in love with your childhood best friend, who also just happens to be your brother's boyfriend, is just asking for trouble. Especially if he's a clueless bastard. Spamano.

Note: I need your help! Who would you guys like to see Gilbert and Francis end up with?

And since I don't know what Ancient Rome's human name is (or if he was one) I'll just refer to him as Grandpa Rome LOL.

Question: Why do you call South Italy Lovino is this fic, but Romano in Building Blocks and Condom Boxes?
Answer: I'm still fairly new to the Hetalia fandom, so human names aren't my forte. I hadn't realized that Romano wasn't S. Italy's human name until around the fourth chapter of Building Blocks, and decided that fuck that I'm not going back and changing his name and continued using Romano instead of Lovino. So when I started this fic, knowing his human name was Lovino and not Romano, I decided to do it right and use Lovino. And, uh, yeah. Tadah?~

Chapter 2 – Someone to Confide in.

Lovino could see his breath mingle with the cold air as he exhaled through his parted lips. Though it wasn't quite cold enough for snow to be falling or frost to grace the green grass of the nearby park he and Antonio were currently walking through, Lovino still didn't like it. It wasn't that he hated winter. He just seemed to always prefer the warmer and sunnier weather of summer. Whether or not one could believe it, summer light always heightened his mood while it seemed to decrease at the same rate the temperature dropped the closer the day drew to Christmas.

Sauntering through the park beside Antonio, who was busy chattering away over some movie he had seen on TV the other night, Lovino looked up to the sky with a small frown. The sun was barely peeking through the lightly colored grey clouds, almost as if hiding because it was shy; like an embarrassed girl after a haircut, not wanting to be seen in case of the unwanted attention.

To the right was an old play structure Lovino remembered playing on with Antonio when they were younger. He wondered where the modest sandbox they used to build castles in was before realizing they had taken it down a year or two ago. Now in its place stood a large metal jungle gym a handful of elementary students were playing on, laughing, smiling, having the days of their lives before the reality of life caught up to them in a sudden and harsh rush.

With his attention falling back and forth between his thoughts and the boy beside him, he glanced up at Antonio through his wide peripheral. There was endearing childish excitement and wonder exuding from those deep emeralds he called eyes. Despite the lack of sunlight to give them that gleam his orbs possessed, they somehow found a way to shine. From there, Lovino's eyes fell to the set of tempting chapped lips. When they got dry, Antonio licked them. Lovino felt a small blush rise to his face, as if seeing something he wasn't supposed to.

It'd been hours since they met up at the older boy's house, and they were now returning to Lovino's house for dinner. When they were finished eating, he figured Antonio could help him pack up for a school trip the following day with his school's jazz band. As forgetful as Antonio was, his forgetfulness came in handy as Lovino would always pick up whatever the Spanish boy seemed to be missing. It was a little habit they fell into when they were younger. Whenever Antonio forgot something at school, Lovino would remind him what it was he almost left behind, and quickly check to make sure he hadn't forgotten about it himself.

As they exited the park through the worn out gate beside a large oak tree, whose leaves had turned beautiful, warm shades of orange and red that now lay beneath the bottoms of their beat up sneakers, crunching from under his small strides, the Italian questioned and thought over his confusing feelings silently, frown deepening ever so slightly.

He had to be over thinking. Maybe if he approached this logically—Yes, that had to be it! Maybe if he related what he felt to a simple mathematic equation, he would be able to make sense of this all! Lovino thought long and hard. He added, subtracted, multiplied, found the coordinate pair, and even the slope intercept, but, in the end, he hadn't accomplished anything. If anything, he found himself stumbling ten steps backwards and scowled at the sidewalk before him, wondering how something as trivial and simple sounding as 'feelings' could be so frustratingly complex because, in comparison to calculus and physics Lovino naturally excelled at that most otherwise did poorly in, it had to be one of the only things that left him unanswered and baffled.


The boys arrived to Lovino's house to find it abandoned and lifeless. Resting upon the wooden railing at the bottom of the stair case lay a pink sticky note. On it, words were written in what appeared to be Feliciano's sissy hand-writing in even sissier looking purple ink. While Antonio made himself at home, kicking off his sneakers and hogging up all the space on the couch as he lied down on his side to watch some mindless Italian TV, Lovino read it under his breath as he toed off his dirty covered shoes as well.

"Grandpa Rome and I just went out to buy me some more art supplies. In case we aren't back to make you dinner, Grandpa left you money for pizza—" Lovino looked up to find two twenty-dollar bills lying lifelessly where he picked up the note. They must have been tucked away underneath safely. "—so don't worry about that! We'll be back ASAP. Love, Feli! :)"

He snorted at the doodle smiley face at the end of the note (it was just like Feliciano to do something like that) before crumpling it up and stuffing it into his pocket. He made sure to grab the money his grandfather left and made a move to reach for his cellphone on the way to the couch.

"Move." Lovino commanded, stopping in front of Antonio and blocking the latter's view of the television. "The fuck are you doing watching this? You don't even understand Italian."

"So? It sounds really cool."


Antonio did nothing but groan lazily, not budging even an inch. Lovino raised a foot and kicked at his side with his heel. It was around the fifth kick that the Spanish boy sat up, knees bent as he took up two out of the three cushions of the worn out couch. Lovino flopped down, and Antonio rested his head upon the other boy's lap as he changed the channel.

Lovino couldn't tell why, but it felt a little weird. Even though Antonio had rested his head on him countless times before, at the moment, it seemed different. He didn't like what he was feeling, so he busied himself with his phone. Shaking his legs softly to get his friend's attention, Lovino asked, "Hey, what kind of pizza do you want? Feli and the old man left me money for food while they're out."

"Where'd they go?" Inquired Antonio as he rolled over onto his back to look Lovino in the eyes.

The boy shrugged, for some reason finding himself unable to meet the teen's emerald gaze. "They're buying art supplies for Feli and probably some other shit. Anyway, back to the pizza?"

"Someone's hungry." Antonio chuckled and then hummed thoughtfully. "Hmm… I'm down for whatever you want. Pizza is pizza."

"Should we just get the usual cheese and bacon?"

Antonio shrugged with a smile. "Haha, sure, why not?"

Lovino punched in the numbers to a nearby pizza parlor and ordered quickly. The boys had ordered from the place enough that the workers new immediately what 'the usual' referred to, and were knocking at Lovino's door just twenty minutes after. The Italian boy was feeling sluggish, and said, "Hey, bastard, go get the door."

"But I don't wanna."

"Come on, I ordered it, so that means it's your job to get it."

"But I'm tired."

"Damnit, Antonio." Lovino got up from the couch to retrieve the pizza mumbling a soft 'dumb bastard'. Twisting the doorknob, he pulled the door open and was greeted by one of the boys he recognized from school. In fact, he so happened to be one of Antonio's close friends.

"What's up, Lovino?" Came the boisterous voice of the one and only Gilbert Beilschmidt. He was dressed in a red, white, and black uniform, with a matching cap, and box of pizza in his hand. He was wearing his usual smug expression, his red eyes shining with over-flowing amounts of pride as usual. "Orderin' a pizza for one, huh?"

Before Lovino could reply, Antonio called lazily from his sprawled position on the couch. "I'm here!"

Gilbert craned his head into the doorway and smiled. "Heh, should've figured he'd be here. Haha, how's it hangin', 'Tonio? You look tired as fuck, man. Something the matter, you're never this sleepy looking."

"Eh. Just one of those lazy days, I guess." The boy shrugged and Gilbert stepped back.

Turning his attention back to Lovino, the German boy said, "Anyway, that'll be $13.00."

Lovino handed him a twenty and watched as Gilbert reached into his pocket to give the boy change. The Italian shrugged it off and told him to keep the change—To think of it as a tip of sorts. It wasn't really his money, so he didn't care whether or not he got change in return. Gilbert looked at the boy gratefully (mostly because he was poor at mental math and wasn't all too sure as to what he owed the boy) and said his goodbyes. He made sure to yell at Antonio, who waved goodbye with a friendly smile, and ran down the front steps quickly to make his next delivery.

Hopping into his car, he honked and shot Lovino a wide smile before speeding away recklessly. For a moment, Lovino stood in front of the open door, watching the German boy drive down the street horrifically.

It was nearly impossible to suppress a harsh laugh as Gilbert nearly knocked over Antonio's blue recycling bin down the road.

Just like his driving, Gilbert was an overall reckless person. He was a big risk-taker, who always seemed to think of the consequences of his actions right before he was hit with them. He had learnt that about the boy over the past years he'd be friends with him through Antonio. Sometimes Lovino would wonder if Gilbert was looking for a death sentence, what with the way he went about living life with little to no regard for his safety and sometimes the safety of those around him; which was another way of saying Antonio, Francis, and himself.

Lovino yawned softly as he closed the door and walked over to Antonio on the couch. The teen sat up immediately to flip open the pizza box and dig in as Lovino tossed him the white and red box softly on his way to the kitchen. He reached into the fridge for two cans of pop, and flopped onto the couch beside Antonio. The two ate in a not-so-quiet-silence as Antonio chattered on and on with a mouth full of food. Lovino had to admit, it wasn't the most attractive he has ever seen him, but it was the almost childish air around the boy that still made it endearing.

"And then the car exploded into, like, a thousand pieces! Did you see that? Man, that was so cool!" Exclaimed Antonio with gleaming emeralds. Lovino pretended to listen as he nodded his head in false-understanding, too wrapped up in his thoughts and blatant staring.


One finished pizza box and over a dozen finished canned sodas later, the duo found themselves upstairs in Lovino's room helping said boy, who folded his clothes for the next week, pack for his upcoming band trip. Like always, Lovino had left it until last minute, figuring it wouldn't be that hard to throw some clothes into a suitcase. However, as he neatly folded some shirts and underwear, Antonio returned from his bathroom down the hall with his red toothbrush and toothpaste.

Lovino threw those into a little baggy along with a small plastic comb and dental floss before returning to folding cross-legged on his bed.

"Missing anything else?" Came Antonio from behind, who crawled onto Lovino's comfy mattress childishly. He sat close to the younger boy, resting his head upon the crook of Lovino's neck as he nuzzled his face into the teen's milky skin affectionately. A blush crawled to Lovino's face at the sudden contact, which was strange as he'd been in positions like this many, many times with him before. "Here, I'll help you fold that!"

Reaching to put an arm around Lovino's middle, he folded the boy's shirt on his lap for him. Though helpful, Lovino's face reddened incredulously. It had to be from the lack of space. It had to be it; why else would he have been so flustered?

Antonio carefully placed the shirt into the large suitcase, and removed his arm from around the younger boy. Lovino gulped. "Th-Thanks."

"Is that the last of it?" Asked Antonio. A wide smile broke out on his face as Lovino nodded, and he sighed in relief. "Thank God that's over and done with! I'm pretty sure you've got all the important stuff done, right?"

"Yupp. Clothes, dumb formal clothes for when we perform, toothbrush and toothpaste, shampoo, deodorant, underwear, socks…" Lovino nodded. "Yupp. It's all here."

"Yeah! High five!" Antonio raised a hand expectantly. Lovino raised his own as well and high fived Antonio with a small grin. "We make a great team, don't we?"

"Yeah, I guess we do."

"So what's new with you, man?"

"The fuck? I just saw you the other day."


"The hell can possibly be new?"

"Well, you never know?" Antonio moved closer, if it was even possible. Lovino hadn't gotten used to the warmth that was Antonio's breath on his neck; cheeks still tinted a gentle shade of fuchsia. He squirmed just a tad in his dark hoodie, and his face was still a little flushed, but otherwise showed no signs of being effected by the boy's close proximity at all.

Lovino shook his head, no. "Nothing's new."

Antonio didn't seem to approve of this answer, as he pouted. "What, really? Nothing new at all? Man, you never tell me anything anymore—"

"Mainly because there's nothing new to tell you—"

"Like who you're crushing on—"

Lovino fumbled over his words a little, repressing the small waver in his voice that dare make itself head. "Because I'm not 'crushing on' anyone."

"Come on, Lovi. It's been, like, ten or something years, and you've never told me about liking anyone before. There's got to be someone's who's caught your eye."

"I've told you before, no." They'd go through this routine at least once a week—He'd bring up the topic of feelings and silly teenage romance, expecting Lovino to suddenly be hung up on someone the way Antonio always was. But, as they went about this that day, he thought over a couple things in his head. Maybe he had a tiny, itty bitty, little crush on Antonio. Not a big one, but probably an incredibly insignificant one that would go away as fast as Antonio's weekly crushes seemed to.

"Man, that's no fun."

"Fuck you."

Antonio leaned away to look Lovino in the eye, lips quirked up in a gentle smile. "We're in high school, Lovi, you should be experimenting a little and dating! Even if you don't find your soul mate or any of that serious stuff, at least you get some experience? And if things don't work out, I'll always be here for you, you know."

It was the bright gleam and green depth in his eyes, and sincerity in his voice that made his heart clench that made him realize hypothetically, if he'd have a crush on Antonio, it wouldn't be as little as he'd thought.

Hypothetically, of course.


Lovino's grandfather had driven the boy to school the following morning, and decided to bring Feliciano to say goodbye to the boy as well. Naturally, Antonio came over to their house to say farewell. He was welcomed by Feliciano and his grandfather in the kitchen, who asked him if he wanted to come to the school as well while Lovino was busy showering upstairs. After they ate breakfast together, they left in Grandpa Rome's beat up minivan listening to the soft, up-beat music on the radio.

Being the little kid he always was, Feliciano called dibs on sitting shotgun, leaving Lovino and Antonio sitting in the middle seats behind without any protests. Unlike the elementary or middle school Lovino and Antonio attended that were incredibly nearby, that they could wake up late and probably still make it for the playing of the national anthem, their high school was much farther. Walking to and from school wasn't completely unbearable, as Antonio would rejoice in his friend's company with Lovino silently doing the same, but a long way regardless.

After sitting in the comfy, beaten down grey seats, Lovino felt himself grow sleepy. His eyes were becoming increasingly heavy, and there was absolutely no way he'd be able to stay awake. Catching on to his frequent yawning, Antonio offered his shoulder for Lovino to sleep on, on the way to school. He looked at the other boy as if he were crazy, but was too exhausted to reject.

Within a handful of seconds, Lovino was out cold. The world turned black; one minute they were pulling out of the driveway, and the next, they were parked in front of the school. Antonio helped Lovino load his suitcase and instrument onto the large greyhound bus as the latter hopped out of the car tiredly. He had his carry on backpack hanging off one shoulder, and a pillow in his arms. He could tell just by looking at the bus that it was going to be one hell of a long ride.

Standing in the cold morning air, Lovino said goodbye to his grandfather with a familial handshake and one-armed hug. His grandfather slipped him a couple condoms Lovino returned immediately, too embarrassed and flustered to really think straight as Feliciano launched himself at his brother for a breath-taking hug that squeezed all of the air out of Lovino's lungs.

As he struggled for breath after pushing him away, he turned to Antonio, who held his arms out, inviting Lovino to run into them. A little nervously, Lovino hugged the Spanish boy and inhaled deeply. Antonio smelled of oranges and cologne as he buried his face into the crook of his neck.

"You better tell me how everything goes when you come back, okay?" Instructed Antonio. Lovino grinned tiredly and nodded.


On the bus, Lovino sat with Gilbert's younger brother, Ludwig. At first glance, no one would have ever expected the boy beside him, who leaned into his seat with his muscular build hiding under his jacket and jeans as well as the serious expression resting on his mature face, to be the younger of the Beilschmidt brothers.

The last Lovino saw of him was in middle school, so suffice to say he was quite shocked over how hard puberty had hit him during his absence. He grew several inches, and his voice dropped considerably. As he looked out the dark window, Lovino remembered the time where his voice was lower and he stood as taller. Looking through the window's reflection to the boy beside him, he realized even his personality seemed to come out as older and much more mature than that of Gilbert's.

Sitting in silence with his cheap white earbuds blasting music into his ears, he tried to recall the last time he'd ever spoken to Ludwig. Though he was never as close to the boy as he was with Antonio—though he doubted anyone's friendship with him could even compare to the one he possessed with the Spaniard—he remembered them being on good terms. Or at least as good as you can get with Lovino.

Twisting in his seat, he pulled out his earbuds and paused the mellow song he'd been listening to. Maybe he'd strike up a conversation with him. They were friends before, so maybe they can be friends again?

"Hey, Ludwig," Lovino started, watching carefully as Ludwig's attention shifted from the movie playing on the ceiling entertainment system to him, his blue eyes stern and serious. "How are you?"

The two talked about the things going on in their lives and how they were doing since the day Lovino left middle school. Things didn't appear to change much with Ludwig. He began to work out, which was blatantly apparent as he discarded his jacket and stuffed it into his carry on backpack, his defined muscles incredibly intimidating in his dark t-shirt, and travelled a little before the school year started. He told Lovino of his trip back to Germany with Gilbert and his parents, and the way Gilbert found himself getting rejected in languages other than English.

"What about you?" Asked Ludwig. As expected, Lovino flew a string of curses at the German boy. Ludwig didn't seem fazed by any of it at all, his expression remaining a mixture of seriousness and indifference. It was how their relationship worked; Lovino would yell and swear at him, and tell him how much he hated him, but, in the end, never meant any of it. It was actually how all of Lovino's relationships with other people worked.

When he was done with his swearing, Ludwig continued. "I see you and Antonio are still very close. He seems like a nice guy—a little bit of a goof, but nice."

That's when it hit him. He remembered Ludwig being someone he was always capable of confiding in, so he thought maybe he could be the one he could talk to about Antonio. Ludwig was the perfect candidate. He was serious, meaning he would never laugh—which was sometimes unsettling, depending on the situation, and he was one of the most trustworthy and loyal people he'd ever met.

The boy was the type to keep a secret to the grave. "Hmmm… Maybe I can tell him? If I told Gilbert or Francis, those two big mouths'll go and fucking blab to Antonio."

"Lovino? Something wrong?"

"Oh, no." He shook his head. "I was just thinking about the bastard."

"Are you mad at him?"

Lovino gulped. He could totally trust him, he was sure of it. "Err… Not quite."

He watched Ludwig raise a brow and Lovino's voice dropped. "Fuck, uh, you can keep a secret, right?"

Ludwig nodded.