Chapter Text
They were halfway to one of the only coasters Lovino liked, armed with a cotton candy each (Paid for by Antonio, because he was going to this boyfriend thing right from now on), when Antonio cracked.
"Okay, you're being really weird. What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" Lovino huffed. Then, after looking at Antonio's unconvinced gaze, he pouted. "Fine. It's just that... I d'no wha' t'do ona 'ate."
"What?" Antonio furrowed his brow. He could usually decipher Lovinospeak but this was something else entirely.
Lovino flushed deeply, either angry or embarrassed that he had to repeat himself, "I don't know what to, like, do on a date, bastard, okay?"
"What?" Antonio repeated incredulously, because he couldn't be serious. He and Antonio had been on dates before and - Oh. "Oh. It's okay, Lovi! You can just be yourself and it'll be fine."
"That's the worst advice I've ever heard. And, considering who we hang out with, that's saying something."
"Yeah, I admit it wasn't the best, but that's really harsh and also not true; remember when Gil told that one Canadian boy that he should literally paint himself yellow to try and get him noticed?"
Lovino snorted softly, "Gilbert's advice doesn't count in the running of bad advice, because it'd knock all the other shitty suggestions out of the ballpark."
Antonio smiled at his boyfriend, and the two carried on in companionable silence until Antonio nudged Lovino softly. "Hey, are you still nervous?"
"I don't get nervous, dumbass," Lovino snapped, flushing.
"What I'm hearing is that my advice worked, sí?"
"You need to get your fucking ears checked, then," The Italian responded with a small smile. "Even if I was nervous, anything you say would only help marginally."
"So you're saying that I'm the best?"
Lovino playfully punched his date, "I wouldn't go that far, bastard."