Fools Like Us

Lovino nearly slammed the door in his face when he arrived, but Francis managed to catch it just in time.

Smiling, the Frenchman managed to push his way into the house past his scowling cousin. Feliciano came running from the kitchen, throwing his arms around Francis and already babbling about what they were going to eat that night. The blond just smiled and nodded, listening to him politely even though he wanted to focus on the older Italian. He liked to think he was very good at reading body language, and he wanted to observe Lovino before confronting him.

Lovino huffed and stormed back to the kitchen, and Feliciano dragged Francis along after him. The Vargas kitchen was more than big enough for the four of them, and the oldest in the family greeted Francis just as enthusiastically as the youngest when he entered. Lovino scoffed at the friendliness, but Francis could see his shoulders already relaxing.

None of the Italians would let him help with the cooking, and Francis soon found himself banished to the dining room. Lovino had insisted he would screw everything up, but the other two assured him it was just because he was a guest. Francis found himself wondering if Antonio could ever soften Lovino enough to be civil to him.

When dinner was finally served, the four of them situated themselves around the long table. Not for the first time, Francis was surprised by how much food his great-uncle and cousins could—and would—provide for a small group.

"It's been a while since we've seen you," Romulus began, grinning at Francis, "You seem to be in good health. How is my niece?"

Francis smiled, though the small talk surprised him a bit. Small talk had never really been the older man's style. "She's doing well," he replied, brushing blond curls out of his face, "She told me to tell you to 'keep you old hands to yourself and stop flirting with everyone on the street."

Romulus laughed loudly, and Feliciano giggled as well. Francis found himself grinning too within moments, and even Lovino cracked a smile, though Francis could see he agreed. The mood had already been light, but after that, everyone seemed more relaxed and carefree.

Conversation and food flowed easily, and before he knew it, Francis was full and drowsy. He watched his cousin through half-lidded eyes, taking note of how distracted and upset Lovino seemed when he thought no one was looking.

To his surprise, it was Lovino who confronted him when the meal was over. The Italian caught him in the hallway, standing in front of him with his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. He was scowling again, but the look in his eyes was insecure and almost shy, and his hands shook slightly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked bluntly, "You never come over anymore, so you're not doing it for yourself, are you?"

Francis' answering smile was softer, and he gave a little shrug. "No, I'm here for Antonio," he admitted easily, a little surprised by the way Lovino flinched at the other boy's name, "But of course, that means I'm here for you as well."

Lovino hesitated, and for a moment, Francis was sure he would be pushed away. Then, suddenly, the Italian grabbed his hand and dragged him up the stairs to his bedroom, throwing the door shut behind them. Francis couldn't help but wince at the loud bang, but he was sure it wasn't an uncommon sound in the Vargas household.

"So, talk," Lovino huffed, dropping onto the bed, "Are you going to scold me or something?"

Francis raised a delicate brow, perching on the edge of the bed next to Lovino. As expected, the Italian looked away stubbornly.

"Non, that was never my intention," Francis assured him gently. He knew he couldn't deal with Lovino by criticizing him; it would only make him shut down. Lovino looked up at him again after a moment, once Francis had let the silence linger and settle. His long fingers toyed with the hem on his sleeve, and he swallowed hard. Finally, the blond spoke, his voice still gentle but encouraging.