Work Text:
Their first kiss wasn’t really anything special. It didn’t even happen when they were dating. No sparks flew, there were no butterflies fluttering about, and there were no fireworks. Nothing (much to both their pining hearts’ chagrin).
Despite what one may think from such passionate individuals, their first technical kiss was at a party the summer before their third and fourth year of high school, respectively. Not a big one where it could’ve been fun to find one another after a few moments of being alone, either. The party was Ludwig’s birthday and the socially stunted teenager was only having one at Feliciano’s insistence (which explained why Lovino had been there) (they still weren’t entirely sure why Gilbert’s friends were at the party, but they were, and no one felt it necessary to kick the three out if they were behaving).
Elizaveta had been there and between her and Feliciano the group had no chance to not play some stupid party games- it was just their luck that the decided game was truth or dare, and neither Antonio nor Lovino were one to back down from a challenge- especially given the circumstances.
Everyone had three ‘outs’ of dares or truths, and whoever used all of theirs first had to do some embarrassing task that no one bothered to remember in the end, but it was enough that when Francis dared Antonio to give the person to his left a ‘bisou’ neither was going to reject the dare (Lovino was down to his last ‘out’ and like Hell he was going to lose, whereas Antonio didn’t want to give his French companion the satisfaction of stumping him).
“You’re sure you are alright with this?” Antonio had said quietly, a small, placating smile was resting on his face either to assure Lovino it was okay to back out or because of some other feelings (which he would later claim was hiding the fact he wanted to sock Francis in the nose for attempting to meddle in the Spaniard’s lovelife).
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get on with it already.” The words were meant to be confident, but the setting was so strange to the Italian that instead he spoke equally as soft, stuttering slightly.
It was hardly a second long. Not even a peck, just two pairs of lips meeting for a moment, so quick no one was sure it actually happened. And that was that. Nothing more progressed in their relationship for a while- not until the confession, at least.