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Basch had never been in love, never planned to be in love, never wanted to be in love. It just wasn't something he cared to seek out, or give energy to. He imagined a future of waking to Erika making pancakes in the kitchen, or calling him mid-afternoon from wherever she'd live if she decided to move out. Nowhere in those ideals did a third person come into play. And Basch was fine with that, convinced there was no need for a third person, no need for friends, and certainly no need for romance.
And yet.
There were some days he would not understand exactly what Feliciano was seeing that made his gaze turn so tender, his smile so gentle, his voice so sweet. Well really, it was most days. Nothing about Feliciano’s…feelings (Basch still found himself incredulous at the idea of Feliciano being in love with him) made logical sense to him.
“Does love ever make logical sense?” Erika had said to him months ago; there was that word again. Love. Basch had scoffed at her response, regretting even telling his little sister what he'd been worrying about despite knowing embarrassingly well that she had mountains of more experience than him.
That was the other thing- experience. Basch had known of Feliciano for years. His cousins’ close friend, a playboy who probably got laid more times than should be possible for a young man under 30. A flirt. The opposite side of the spectrum of what Basch was. They barely even spoke past pleasantries for almost a decade, far apart yet somehow connected. Back then, Basch never noticed Feliciano’s lingering gazes when his back turned, only worrying about his sister’s wellbeing way before worrying about another high schooler’s crush on him.
Really, Feliciano had no reason to keep showing interest in Basch for more than 15 minutes. Whatever conquest he had attempted should have ended shortly after Basch’s curt responses to his initial flirtingwhen they were teenagers and Basch was too aloof to even realize there was flirting. There was nothing even really connecting the two other than Ludwig and Gilbert, not even a common interest.
And yet.
For whatever reason, Feliciano ditched all his numerous love affairs and put his focus into Basch after seeing him cry at Erika's wedding. Maybe I'm a sexy crier, he'd snort to himself silently, since that seemed to be the only answer to his burning question of why. As to why he had placed his hand gently onto Basch's during the reception, pulling him outside into the parking lot. Why he murmured close to Basch’s ear in the hazy darkness only illuminated by streetlights and the now far-away venue that it was okay to cry. Why he pulled Basch into his chest the second the dam broke and he mourned the not-quite loss of being the only one in his sister's life. Why he pulled back with a smile unlike one Basch would see him give even Ludwig, one that was unreadable and yet said so much.
A few days later, a text came in randomly. “How’ve you been? :)" was all it said. Basch, unfriendly as ever, only sent a one word response; “Good.” Still, he found himself at whatever bar Feliciano had later texted him the address to, offering drinks. And Basch was never one to turn down a drink, still oblivious to whatever Feliciano was hoping for. When Feliciano’s hand rested upon his around the middle of the night, he didn't find himself flinching away. Somehow. Feliciano just had that power on anyone, and there was no way in hell Basch would be immune to his soft fingers brushing his knuckles while holding an expression that looked like he was asking for permission, like he was scared he'd somehow scare Basch.
He didn't. Basch only found himself allowing himself to be touched, not knowing what he was supposed to do next. Because romance was not a thing Basch did.
And yet.
And yet here Basch was, months later, letting Feliciano’s head lay on his chest, having a fucking siesta when he should be working, allowing him to cuddle up to him as much as he so liked. And Feliciano, so sweetly persistent, had gotten Basch to lay on the floor in front of the glass door of his office like it was the easiest thing in the world (it had not been, but Feliciano was never one to listen to anyone's complaints the first time). His back ached just a bit, only somewhat eased by the carpet laid beneath them. Somehow he couldn't find it in himself to care.
Feliciano was bright, feeling just as warm as the sun’s afternoon rays that bathed them both, and turned even brighter when his eyes slowly opened and he smiled all toothy, giggling at nothing in particular. A childish whimsy that he consistently carried, one that Basch envied and adored simultaneously.
Their hands found each other like it was the most natural thing, despite it feeling so, so strange to Basch.
“Basch.” Came a soft whisper, secretive despite being the only two in the house. It shook him out of his thoughts.
“Mm.”
Another giggle. “Basch,” this time louder, more sing-songy. “
What is it?” he couldn't hide the charmed lilt in his voice, egged on by Feliciano’s gorgeous laugh. Feliciano shifted so that they were laying facing each other instead of one on top the other, not unlocking their hands and not any less close in proximity. Basch's eyes flicked down to his lips, to his freckles, to his long lashes. It was embarrassing, to have fallen this hard, to feel so happy from the smallest things. In only a few months Feliciano had managed to tear down his force field of a personality and have them share something, something that Basch certainly never had with his family and single friend.
Feliciano spoke again. “You have an eyelash,” probably a lie, an excuse to touch at Basch’s face. Both of them were highly aware that Basch barely had eyelashes to begin with. Not that he wasn't allowed, but Feliciano most definitely knew Basch would try to shy away from touch without prompting. The hand that held his own unclasped to pick at his cheek, brushing away an imaginary eyelash that most certainly was nonexistent before cupping Basch’s cheek. Basch surprised himself and Feliciano by leaning in himself to leave a small, tentative peck on his lips- both of them chapped from dehydration from their nap, both of them hardly caring.
“Was there actually an eyelash?” Feliciano set his sights on Basch's eyelid, leaving a gentle peck beneath his brow. “Hmm. Maybe. Or maybe I just like touching you. Your skin is so pretty and soft.”
There was no hiding the way his grimace at that – a grimace that indicated his shyness and embarrassment, but a grimace nonetheless. Feliciano laughed at that, loud and energetic. Basch was not amused. “Tesorino, I'm telling the truth!”
“That's exactly why I'm frowning,” not a lie in the slightest, “You say the most embarrassing things.”
“I only say what's true!” another grimace, “No matter how much you make that face, I won't stop. You won't believe how much I care for you if I did.”
Basch sighed as though he was annoyed, but they both knew he wasn't, “Who are you to tell me what I do and don't believe?”
Another kiss, this one on his cheek this time. Wet and gross, too goofy to be tender any longer. Basch still felt his veins turn warmer. “I'm your knight and shining armor, obviously!” Basch snorted, a gross sound that Feliciano seemed to somehow smile wider at, “Who else will keep you from working yourself to death? Me! So I'm your prince charming, clearly. Protecting your- stop laughing, Basch!” Basch definitely kept laughing. “You suck, amore. And here I was going to offer to watch one of those horrible war movies you love tonight.”
“They’re good movies.”
“No, they aren't. They're so boring and manly it makes me want to puke. I only put up with them because you let me kiss you during the romantic scenes”
“And I only put up with your cheesy bullshit because you watch my war movies with me. So we're even.”
“Basch!”
Basch closed his eyes again, relishing in the sound of Feliciano’s lips wrapping around the syllable of him name, chuckling more at his own affection than the incredulous tone of Feliciano's voice. If he said anything else he'd probably choke up from embarrassment, so he stayed quiet. Feliciano did too (for once), save for him humming a nonsense song about pasta and hot water while staring at Basch’s shut eyes and relaxed face.
Finally, painfully, Basch inched away from his sunlight (both literal and figurative, not that he'd ever have the courage to tell Feliciano that) and sat up. Work. He needed to get back to work. No matter how appealing laying on the floor wrapped up in Feliciano for hours seemed, he still had things to do.
Basch felt Feliciano’s lanky arms wrap around his waist, chest touching his back. He could feel his mussed-up hair on his ear and resisted the urge to flinch from how ticklish it felt, only moving to unclasp the hands that would surely drag him into a second nap if he didn't push them off.
Basch had never planned to fall in love, nor did he ever want to. It just wasn't something he was interested in.
And yet.
And yet, Feliciano was his everything. His warmth. His new home to rest his wings. And without any logical reasoning, he seemed to be Feliciano’s.
End