The lecherous tourmaline gems of the blonde regarded the smaller boy with the puffed out cheeks and mortified expression pressed into his collarbone. Romano had walked straight into a stranger for the likes of him, and as he glanced up petulantly and saw those two eyes lap up his frame over and over again, he stumbled backwards and onto his butt.
A long, creamy white hand outstretched its fingers to grab hold of Romano's, which he fiercely slapped away.
"Ahh, look at what we have here. Is this Monsieur Tomate who did not wish to share his vegetables with me? Ohonhon, come to apologize to me, have we?" Oh for the love of God.
Blocking the entrance to what the Italian now realized was a French restaurant Antonio had chosen as the location of their study da- session, another asshole he could not have possibly imagined meeting outside of school eyed him most unfathomably.
Romano, still keeping his olive eyes glaring warily at the French transfer student, stood up to brush off his bum and knees. Why now, of all times did he have to run into this asshole?
"Hell no, you delusional dick!" Romano barked back, trying to squeeze past the small opening to the shelter inside Avant La Floraison. Francis wouldn't budge.
"Bastard must be deaf too. You wanna go? Move out of the way, I can't be stuck here for long or I'll be found!" Romano had shouted with a questionable meaning at the end of his tongue, which made things all the worse because now the creep ogling him was even more intrigued.
Francis crossed his arms as he unyielded to stepping aside, and smirked as he said, "Who is making you run into the arms of Big Brother Francis?" Just as Romano was about to rid the guy of his smile, a tan hand cupped his shoulder from behind.
"Thaaat would be me, hehehe. Roma, what do you think? It's a delicious restaurant close to your home. Shall we umm... hmm, go inside?" An awkward and hesitant Antonio tried to usher Romano into the local restaurant, but Francis stopped him with a hand.
"Tony?"
"Francis?" Antonio echoed back, a smile breaking through.
"My Proffeseur, Bonjour!" Francis grabbed the man's tanned hand and shook it with enthusiasm. He dared to bring the hand to his lips, and, oh god no, he did not just do that.
Antonio flushed a happy surprise at the affectionate greeting of his pupil. Romano's nose crinkled and he rocked impatiently on his toes. His eyes were suddenly drawn to the shiny object wrapped around Antonio's ring finger... could it be...?
Whatever! Even if it was... "that" it didn't matter to Romano, who cares right? He totally didn't. Nuh-uh. Nope.
"And is he your date?" Francis nudged Romano out of his inner dialogue of denial, only to awaken to an even more embarrassing reality. As soon as Francis had suggested what Romano had been inwardly fearing this whole time, the Spaniard and the Italian locked eyes with one another and a complete look of horror flashed upon both their faces.
"No no, it's not like that at all," Antonio waved Francis's question away looking quite uncomfortable. "You see I am his teacher-"
"No!" Romano cut in heatedly, repositioning himself with little fisted balls of his palms at his sides and an agitated twitch of his nose. This was absolute humiliation. He launched at Antonio, voice like crackling thunder, " It's you who got me into this mess, you- you bastard! Grr-Shit! I can't even speak- ughh!" Romano failed to express himself without blowing up like a little kid who's toy had been taken away. At this point he felt defeated, but what game was he loosing at?
Francis, bemused and not wanting to be any part of this awkward-tension battle, had retreated with small slippery steps into the restaurant like the coward he was, and so Romano was once again left alone with his teacher/nemesis/date- nope, definitely not that last one. Antonio had fixed his emerald gaze upon the little erect curl bent slightly in different directions attached to the boy's head. Wonderful, everything had become so awkward in a matter of a seconds.
"Well?" Romano, who still was flushed from head to toe, snapped his fingers hotly in front of his Spanish teacher's blank stare. "Say something!" If he could see his face right about now, Romano Vargas would have said he looked desperate. He just needed to be acknowledged that he had spoken. He didn't want to be ignored anymore. Please fucking say something for the love of everything made of noodles and juicy red fruits that should be labeled vegetables-
Antonio blinked after the twelfth time Romano had snapped his fingers, only seconds from loosing his cool and getting both of them kicked off the premises. How were they even allowed to loiter this long?
The Spaniard took a lengthy breath through his nostrils, mouth opening and closing as he steadied his thoughts. There and then, he lifted his emerald beryls from the silver cement to once again unwaveringly face Romano's own olive green.
Here it is. Romano chewed on anticipation. Hit me, bastardo. Speak!
"... I think you should take anger management."
A/N:
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I'll Never Call You Maestro
Fanfiction"Roma then," Romano was surprised at the sudden tanned hand ruffling his hair. "Can I call you Roma?" The cranky Italian felt like someone had pointed a universal remote at him with their finger pressed on the pause button. He wanted to smack that h...
