Antonio asked him out four times before he finally said yes. Lovino wasn’t exactly sure what made the difference, maybe just the fact that it hadn’t been as showy. There hadn’t been roses shoved in his face or songs sung to an open window late at night or any of that other overly romantic bullshit.
No, it was different that afternoon. They’d been stretched out on the couch, some old movie playing in the background as Antonio lazily rested his head on Lovino’s shoulder. Brown hair tickled at his nose as the older man shifted, voice so quiet that Lovino almost didn’t hear.
“I wish we could go out to dinner like the couple in this movie, Lovi…”
“So take me,” he’d replied, almost as softly. It had been too sincere to say no, it wasn’t some show the Spaniard had been trying to put on, some lame attempt at being romantic.
Of course Antonio had gone and ruined it by jumping up like an excited puppy, smile bigger than Lovino ever thought it could get. “Really? You’ll finally let me take you out?”
“Dammit- Not if you’re gonna act like that all night.”
But the smile never left Antonio’s face, even as he leant forward to steal a kiss. Lovino had wanted to yell that kissing was supposed to come /after/ dinner, but the man was a lot better at physical affection than his penchant for cheesy romance let on.