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    Your hands were shaking with nervous anticipation as you tipped the bottle of dark liquid into the paper cup, your nose wrinkling at the sharp smell that rose up. Your conscience was poking at you, but you ignored your inner voice; the end result would make everything all worth it.

    “Hurry up! He’s coming back!” Lovino hissed urgently from his lookout post behind the clump of potted plants at the door. You giggled and quickly dumped the rest of the vinegar into the bubble-filled pop before snapping the lid closed and running over to Lovi, kneeling behind the fronds so that only your head was partially visible.

    “Ooh, he’s back!” you squealed excitedly as Alfred walked back in and sat down at his table. You glanced at Lovi and watched a brilliant smile leap to his lips as the American started chomping on his fries—fries that were crusted in a very thick layer of salt.

    Sure enough, Alfred reached for his drink before long; you stifled a giggle, prompting Lovino to pull you closer—all in the name, unfortunately, of slapping a hand over your mouth and whispering, “Be quiet, idiota!” Your scowl was quickly erased, however, as you watched Alfred lift his cup to his mouth and chug a huge gulp of what he thought was Coca-Cola.

    You could barely contain yourself as hilarious chaos ensued. The American’s eyes bulged out of his skull and he fairly screamed as the sharply acidic, bubbly combination of liquids travelled down his throat. His complexion took on a rather alarming fiery hue as he yelped, “IT BURNS! OH MY GOD, I’VE BEEN POISONED! THE HERO HAS BEEN POISONED!”

    You bit your tongue, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes as you fought to silence yourself. Lovi was no better beside you; your partner in crime had let go of you and was rocking back and forth on his heels, spurts of swallowed laughter occasionally escaping from his clenched jaw as his shoulders shook uncontrollably. As he glanced up at you, you saw matching tears of laughter glimmering at the corners of his olive eyes as well; your gaze travelled slightly lower in search of the prize that made every one of your pranks even more worthwhile.

    A bright beam illuminated your face at the sight of a real smile on Lovino’s lips; not a fake, sarcastic smirk, but a genuine smile of glee that curved his perfectly shaped lips upwards into a smooth arc. Lovi’s rich, accented voice broke into your thoughts, snapping you out of a dreamy analysis of his lips.

    “…one of our best yet!” he exclaimed, his dazzling grin only widening. “This is even better than the moustache one we pulled on the potato bastard!”

    You laughed and nodded, careful to keep your volume hushed. “And I got it all on tape,” you crowed victoriously, pulling out the remote to the video camera you had set up beforehand out of your pocket. Lovino let out a dangerously loud laugh, prompting you to shush him frantically as you shot a look at the still-frenzied American. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” you suggested, jerking your head at the exit. “You can go hyena in the car.”

    Lovi scoffed, but followed you out willingly, although you had to grab his wrist and tow him out to the parking lot; he had burst out laughing madly once the two of you had exited the fast food place, drawing so many curious stares and camera phones that you could have sworn every single person in that mall was secretly paparazzi. You had barely managed to grab your camera before security had started filing out of the office and you and Lovino had started running.

    Still, you didn’t let yourself explode until the two of you were safely back at your house; instantly after the door clicked closed behind your back, you turned to Lovi and exclaimed, “Did you see his face?! That was priceless!” Bouts of laughter rippled from your chest until you were gasping for breath. Lovi joined in, wheezing as you both fell onto your couch, clapping each other on the back.

    The two of you continued exchanging jokes and filling your house with merriment until Lovi’s phone rang, the tinny music blaring from his speakers cutting through the live sound.

    You stared at the caller I.D. Amore Mia~, it read, stamping on your hopes in huge neon letters. You forced a smile as Lovi glanced at it and looked at you apologetically. “I have to take this,” he said contritely, his hand already reaching for the device. “Mi dispiace.”

    You waved him off, forcing yourself to maintain your smile as Lovi walked into your kitchen, speaking quietly to some girl. You rolled your eyes in an attempt to make yourself feel better, but a pang of hurt at the fact that Lovino had started dating some girl and not even told you still ran through you.

    You exhaled, determined not to let some small, silly thing like this mess up your friendship with Lovi. Sure, the two of you had known each other since childhood, but there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you to just stay friends; Lovino was more like a brother to you, anyway. He was always the one to hug you after a particularly horrible day, prank anyone and everyone, or watch movies with you on stormy nights until you both fell asleep on the couch. Yeah, a brother. Right?

    You fell backwards, squashing the pillows on the couch as you glared at the ceiling. The problem was that you and Lovino acted like a couple over half the time, but you weren’t. It was driving you insane; what were you supposed to say when people looked at the two of you with a knowing look in their eyes? What was worse was when they actually said something (usually commenting how cute the two of you were) and you were forced to answer lamely, since Lovi would only glare and mutter vulgarly in Italian. Then the person would either laugh, a bit embarrassed, or worse, nod and shoot you a sympathetic glance.

    An exasperated groan was muffled by a pillow as you flopped sideways on your couch, shoving your face into said pillow. “A relationship without the cutesy bits,” you muttered. “That’s basically what I have.”

    You were snapped out of your thoughts once again by a vehement string of Italian curses, some so foul that you didn’t actually understand them—and having been friends with Lovino for longer than you cared to record, you understood quite a bit of filthy authentic Italian. Lazily, you rolled over and called, “Lovi, are you injured or can I stay on the couch?”

    There was a short pause before Lovino yelled back, his voice trembling (although he tried to hide it), “I’m fine, ragazza! Just leave me alone! And don’t call me Lovi!”

    One eyebrow rose as you let his words sink into your brain. You knew that if you tried to comfort him right now, he would just scream at you and nothing would be achieved. No, the comforting would come later. Now, Lovi needed a certain amount of teasing, just so that he knew that he could trust you.

    “Why?” you called, keeping your voice light. “Do I need to go slap someone?”

    This time, Lovi’s pause was longer and you could hear low, rapid Italian before he answered, his voice much quieter and closer to breaking, “Vaffanculo, ______.”

    Anyone else in their right mind would have been unspeakably offended, but you only let out a sigh of relief as you got up and walked into the kitchen. Lovino was slumped by your counters, dejectedly staring at his knees. His phone was halfway across the room, a new crack splintered over the surface of its screen.

    You knelt by Lovi and gently wrapped your arms around him, resting your head atop his as he began to cry, his shaky breaths vibrating under your arms. After his sobs had mostly died down, you brushed his hair away from his eyes and asked softly, “What happened, Lovi?”

    Without looking at you, he answered, “She was never interested in me. All she wanted was to use me to hook her up with my coglione of a brother!”

    Without thinking, the first thing you blurted out was not quite as comforting as you meant to start off: “Che stronza!”

    Lovi raised an eyebrow at you and snorted, his eyes still red from crying. “Looks like I’m finally influencing you, _____. I think your halo is cracking.”

    So maybe your outraged Italian outburst had done some good. You smiled down at Lovi and continued to stroke his hair, careful as always to avoid the one wild curl that sprang out. “Come on, I got a better angle of Alfred’s face on tape!” you told Lovi, pulling out the mini camera from your pocket.

    He smiled and didn’t resist as you pulled him up and led him to the couch, loading the video onto your TV before plunking down next to him. You tossed a blanket over the both of you and grabbed a handful from the bowl of chips that was perpetually on your coffee table before offering Lovi some. He declined and snatched the entire bowl instead, completing your ritual as the recording finished buffering and the scene from the mall appeared on your screen.

    You grinned and leant back, glancing at Lovi every so often to make sure you didn’t miss the exact moment when that precious smile reappeared on his face. However, his lips stayed firmly set in a scowl; you followed his gaze and realized that Lovino’s eyes were fixed not on the choking American, but on the happy couple sitting behind him.

    Internally, you sighed and turned away; anything you said now would just backfire. There was nothing to do but wait for Lovino to get over it and explode—and there was no telling how long that would take.

    “I hate being single!”

    You looked over, startled by the sudden outburst. Lovino’s eyes flicked to you before returning a baleful glare to the screen, his face contorted with rage. “All I ever get are stupid girls throwing themselves all over me to get to my brother! No one wants me!” He slammed the bowl of chips down on your table and continued ranting. “If they want Feliciano, why don’t they go and get Feliciano?! I’m so done with girls using me for my brother! What happened to ‘single and ready to mingle’?!”

    You grit your teeth and fixed your jaw, keeping your eyes straight ahead. You loved Lovi, but this was hitting a little too close to home. If only he would just drop the subject…but knowing Lovi, that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. You snapped when he yelled, “Why can’t I find someone that understands me?!”

    Smacking the remote down, you turned to Lovino with fire blazing in your eyes. “If you’re so fed up with being single, why don’t you just pretend to date me?!” you spat, barely managing to both control your anger and add the word ‘pretend’ into your sentence.

    Lovino stared at you, a slight blush flushing his cheeks. “W-what the hell are you saying?” he exclaimed, his jade eyes flickering all across your face.

    You cursed mentally as you realized what you had said, but smiled as the perfect plan (and cover-up) came to mind. “Think about it, Lovi! It’s the perfect prank! We fool everyone into thinking we’re a couple, and…just see where it goes. Take it as far as we can. It’ll be our little game!”

    Nodding enthusiastically, you leant forward and added, “Revenge and fun, all in one! Come on, let’s do it!”

    Slowly, Lovi’s expression changed from one of confusion to delight, sudden glee scrawled across his features. He muttered something in fleeting Italian that you didn’t quite catch and smiled, the sight sending your heart racing.

    He looked straight into your eyes and agreed firmly, “Let’s do it.” Of course, he waited until you took a sip of your drink to add, “…amore mia.”

    It was very satisfying to see his indignant expression as you spluttered and spat a mouthful of liquid in his face.

    The very next day, you were woken up by the rumble of your phone as it decided to vibrate its way off your nightstand. Squinting at the screen, you tapped on it until it brought up the new message:

    “Good morning, gorgeous,” you read, your tone making it sound more like a question. You blinked and looked at the sender again; yup, it was actually from Lovino. He was taking this fake dating game more seriously than you had expected. Your phone vibrated again in your hand as another message rolled in: “Seriously, svegliati already,” you read off, your mind still trying to process the fact that the biggest prank of your life was actually being pulled off.

    “Fine, fine, I’m getting up,” you grumbled to yourself as you got out of bed and quickly fired a text back at Lovi. You went through your usual morning routine without any further messages from Lovi. After breakfast, you went back up to your room and stared at your reflection solemnly.

    “_____, you are dating Lovino Vargas,” you told yourself sternly. “Don’t mess anything up.” Your words may have seemed cryptic, but more than a simple prank was riding on this. You valued Lovi more than anything or anyone in your life, as stupid or cliché as that may have seemed, and you didn’t know if you could stand it if either of you got hurt as a result of this joke.

    A banging at your door broke into your little pep talk and you yelled down irritably, “Be right there!” You dashed down the stairs and opened the door, revealing Lovino standing there, looking terribly awkward.

    “Hey—” you started, but he cut you off with a hushed whisper.

    “We have company.”

    You furrowed your brows in confusion before understanding dawned in your mind and you nodded, changing your greeting to a long, drawn-out, “Hey, baby…”

    As Lovino swept you off your feet in a totally artificial hug, you heard him whisper in your ear, “Overkill.”

    You smiled sweetly at him and looped your arms around his neck, pretending not to see the crowd of people that were currently making their way to your door and gawking. Nuzzling your head lovingly into the crook of Lovi’s tanned neck, you asked softly, “How big is this audience?”

    Lovino’s hands found their way to your hips, his fingers digging in almost uncomfortably as he replied, “The usual gang. And that idiot Antonio posted it on every possible social media forum possible.”

    You sighed and bopped Lovi’s nose as you reprimanded, “This was supposed to be a small thing, Lovi! It’s getting out of control!”

    Lovi’s annoyed reply was cut off by a familiar voice. “Fratello! I didn’t think you were serious when you said you were dating ____!”

    You turned to look at Lovi’s brother and nodded brightly. “Hi, Feli! Yup, I have your brother all…to…myself.” You ghosted your lips up Lovino’s neck between your last three words, enjoying how he swallowed and squirmed under your touch. Perhaps you were being a bit cruel, but he deserved it for being such an oblivious, insensitive idiot!

    Feliciano grinned and told you, “We’re going to the café! We need to have a party to celebrate!”

    Lovino muttered something rude at his brother’s childish excitement and you pouted at him. “Come on, Lovi, let’s go have fun!”

    His eyes glinted dangerously at you as you dragged him along with the others. “When this is over,” he murmured in your ear, “remind me to kill you.”

    You smiled innocently at him and swung your held hands together. “I love you too, Lovi!” you sang, making most of your friends stare and titter behind their hands. Lovi only growled, earning the two of you a fresh wave of glances and laughs.

    You entered the café and sat at a booth with Lovi; several of your friends slid in, filling the seats so that you and Lovi were squished up against the window on opposite sides of the booth. Feigning dismay, you looked at your friends and rolled your eyes before turning your gaze back to Lovi, whose defiant olive gaze shone back at you.

    Suddenly, a warm arm slithered around your shoulder and pulled you close to its owner, a husky voice sounding in your ear: “Hey, ______.”

    Startled and a bit intimidated, you looked up into a pair of crimson eyes and replied, “Hey, Gilbert.” You tried inching out of his grasp, but his hand tightened on your shoulder and kept you in place as he said lazily,

    “You look really pretty today, you know.” Before you could stammer out a reply, he added with a wink, “But I bet you’d look better in my bed. Whadya say? Ich werde tun was du willst.”

    Your cheeks flamed as his hand grew heavier on your shoulder and you shot a desperate, pointed look at Lovi. Before your eyes even fell on him, however, the Italian had locked gazes with Gilbert and commanded in a low, steely voice, “Let go of her, bastardo.”

    Gilbert’s arrogant swagger remained as he taunted, “What, scared the awesome me will steal your girl?”

    Lovino’s jaw clenched as he repeated, “I said, let go!”

    Gilbert raised one silvery eyebrow and his mouth opened, but he never got to deliver his retort. Lovino’s fist smashed straight into the other man’s jaw, jerking Gilbert’s entire body to the side. Clambering up onto the table, Lovi offered you a hand. Shocked, you took it and jumped up beside him, silently walking behind him down the table and out of the café.

    As the two of you walked out, escorted by hushed whispers and furtive looks, you glanced at Lovi’s stony face and said softly, “Thanks, Lovi. But you didn’t have to do that. I could have handled it.”

    The caustic reply you were expecting never came. Instead, Lovi quietly responded, “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

    The walk back to your house was awkward and silent, the both of you lost in your own thoughts. As Lovi stopped in front of your door, he hugged you quickly, the gesture unexpected and leaving you feeling both pleased and sad. Before you could ask him to stay a while, Lovi had already walked down your driveway and waved goodbye. You watched him go wordlessly; shaking your head, you unlocked your door and stepped inside, already regretting this plan.

    The next few days weren’t as exciting as the first of your new relationship. Gilbert came up to you and Lovi to apologize, sporting a large purple bruise on his jaw. Francis made it his priority every day to come up to both of you and take a picture, no matter how much you both protested. The Frenchman would only smile and wave off your objections with the same phrase: “Jeune amour, c’est la vie!”

    However, you found yourself warming to the idea of you and Lovino as a couple; it was hard not to, since you now had the freedom to stand closer than was platonically logical and do things that you couldn’t before. Small things started popping out to you: the warm, musky scent of his skin when it lingered on you, the way his fingers would tap possessively on your hipbone when you sat together, even the way his grip on your hand would tighten when another guy walked by. It was nice, but it still hurt when you reminded yourself that it was all just a game; once the two of you were out of sight of the rest of your friends, Lovino would drop your hand and revert to his old self—to your brother.

    Nevertheless, Lovino was an undeniably good actor; you got to see more of his tiny smiles now, along with the joy of feeling his arms around you most of the time. He was kind and caring, even if he still retained his endearingly grumpy outer appearance. Despite all this, you still had one unfulfilled wish: to be kissed by Lovi. He had brushed his lips in quick, passing motions over your cheeks for the sake of illusion, sure, but you longed for a true kiss, even if it was a selfish wish that was never to be realized.

    You grew accustomed to waking up to a text from Lovi; your greetings grew more and more believable until the audience that came along with Lovi in the mornings dwindled down to nobody, or occasionally Feliciano. Still, Lovi would embrace you warmly every morning, no matter the amount of people watching. You spent almost a month enduring this sweet torture; the last day of the month, the entire group planned a picnic in the local park. Everyone would be there, according to Alfred, who had told you about the plans while chowing down another burger. It would be a day ‘just to celebrate being young and free, dude’.

    The day of the picnic, you walked with Lovi from your house to the park. It was a warm day, perfect for rowing on the lake or just lazing around. As the two of you walked into the shaded copse that the group had set up for the picnic, you were greeted with excited shouts.

    As you sat down with Lovi, Antonio came over and started mischievously, “Big day today, huh? One month together, wow!” You grinned and shot a glance at Lovi, whose fingers were still playing with yours, although he kept his gaze aimed away as he scowled into the trees. Antonio continued, “So, I know it’s a little early, but can I be best man at the wedding?” Your eyes widened and you let out a nervous laugh.

    “Um—”

    Antonio cut you off excitedly. “And when the little niños come, can I be godfather?!”

    You blushed furiously, stammering as Lovi whipped his head around and yelled, enraged, “Chiudi il culo, you Spanish tomato-head!” You snickered slightly at the massive blush staining the Italian’s cheeks, earning you a glare as Lovino snatched your wrist and towed you towards the pier and away from Antonio, who waved and called,

    “Have fun!”

    At the pier, Lovi shoved some money at the counter and dragged you to stand in line for a boat to go around the lake in. For a moment, it was silent between the two of you; you considered teasing Lovi, but decided against it.

    Then, just as you were about to speak, you felt a warm touch on your fingers; looking down, you saw Lovino’s fingers hesitantly wrapping around yours, pressing your palms together. You glanced at Lovi and saw that his blush was even deeper as he stared determinedly at the lake.

    “None of our friends are here,” you addressed the water as it lapped up on shore.

    “Yeah. I know,” Lovi responded casually, also looking out over the lake. You smiled and squeezed his hand slightly, suddenly feeling lighter and happier than you had the entire past month.

    As the two of you got on board the little boat when it came your turn, you commented casually, “Lovi, you’re a really good actor.”

    He turned the wheel of the boat, carving a smooth arc through the water as he replied, “Really? You’re a pretty good actress too, ragazza.”

    You leaned on his shoulder as you swallowed and whispered, uncertain if you were doing the right thing, “You know, I once heard that every good performance is only good…because there was a little bit of truth in it.”

    Lovi’s hands instantly tightened on the wheel and he made a sudden, sharp bank back to the pier. “That’s a load of bull,” he spat as he glared at the sunlight on the lake.

    “Oh,” you said quietly as the boat docked and you got out. Lovino didn’t take your hand as you both walked back to the group and you didn’t seek his touch. There was a hollow inside you, as if his words had pulled the plug on your heart. How stupid of you, to forget that it was all a game.

    You sat down next to Lovi, wishing that everyone’s eyes would stop following your every movement.

    “Lovers’ spat?” Gilbert teased, receiving a stern smack upside the head from Ludwig as you faked a small smile and forced yourself to laugh lightly in response as you reached for a sandwich.

    Gradually, you started smiling and laughing with the rest of your friends as they all made jokes and messed around, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at Lovi, even though he was right next to you.

    “Ah, col cazzo!”

    Suddenly, you heard a single loud, violently uttered sentence of Italian before someone roughly grabbed your shoulders and a pair of warm, slim lips crashed down on yours.

    Your first instinct was to attack whoever had just decided to kiss you, but instead of slapping Lovino with widened eyes, you allowed yourself to melt into his sun-tasting lips, your eyes closing involuntarily as every shred of self-restraint you possessed flew away like leaves on the wind. For someone with such a dirty mouth, Lovino was an extraordinarily good kisser, and you intended to take full advantage.

    Your hands reached up, your fingers twining in Lovi’s unbelievably silky mocha locks to bring his head closer as your lips pressed firmly back onto his, the tang of sun-ripened tomatoes and rich herbs blooming in your mouth as he kissed you. His hands fell from your shoulders to grasp your waist and pull you closer before coming up to the small of your back, all the time bringing your body closer to his.

    When you finally broke apart, Lovi bent his forehead to touch yours, his olive eyes staring straight into yours. “Game over. Ti amo, _____. And don’t you dare tell anyone.”

    You laughed before you whispered back, “Ti amo troppo, idioto.”

    Lovi’s eyes widened before you pressed forward and captured his lips with yours again; before you lost yourself in the heaven of Lovino Vargas’s kiss, you vaguely heard behind you a familiar Spaniard’s voice:

    “I still want to be best man! And godfather too!"