WARNING: This story is about two guys in love with each other, so if that's not for you, click that pretty back button.

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“Doesn’t he have a nice ass?” whispered the blond American girl.

The redhead across from her flushed. “Don’t!” she whispered back. “He might hear you…”

The blond snorted in an unladylike fashion and popped her gum. Then she answered back with, “It doesn’t matter. He can’t understand us. Duh. He’s Italian.”

The redhead glanced fearfully at Vito, the gondolier, and relaxed a little bit. Vito, on the other hand, was tense. He was tempted to correct the stupid American girls but decided against it. They might chatter on about it. All of the gondoliers in Venice had to take two years of French, German, and English, so he spoke and understood it perfectly. He spoke in English to his boyfriend, Leon, all the time. He steered the gondola over to the stairs and the two American girls stepped out.

The blonde one pulled some euros out of her purse and handed them to him. Then she pointed to the golden vase connected to the front of the gondola. “Take?” she asked, as if she were talking to a child.

Vito’s hands clenched the paddle even tighter and he nodded stiffly. She grabbed a white carnation from the vase and handed him another euro. With one last large smile, the American girls were gone, walking straight into the store there.

Vito pushed several dark strands of hair back into their place in his slicked back hairstyle and was ready to start rowing again when another gondola stopped next to his. Leon stood on it, smiling brightly.

“What?” Vito asked in Italian, scowling darkly. Leon’s grin became wider.

“Do you remember what day it is?” Leon asked.

Vito’s scowl lessened in intensity. He nodded, brown eyes softening slightly. “Happy Anniversary,” he whispered.

Leon glanced around quickly and, seeing nobody, leaned forward. Their lips brushed together in a loving kiss. It only lasted a second before Leon moved away. His hand, which had been held behind his back the whole time, came into view, holding a red rose. He held it out to Vito and Vito slowly took it.

He raised an eyebrow, staring at the rose he now held. “What’s this?”

Leon rolled his eyes and laughed. “A rose, obviously. For you.” At that moment, another gondola started to pass, making a scraping sound as the boats hit each other.

The old gondolier cackled when he saw the rose Vito was holding. “Another admirer, Vito?” He yelled in Italian. “Good luck taking care of her!” There was another cackle as the gondola was rowed out of view.

Vito’s scowl came back, darker than before. He threw the rose into the water and muttered, “You know I hate flowers.” Leon frowned slightly, but it disappeared when the two American girls from earlier come into view. They started to step into Vito’s gondola, but Leon saw the scowl on Vito’s face.

“Ladies, please,” Leon smoothly said in English, gesturing to his own gondola. The girls giggled and stepped into Leon’s gondola.

“Thank you,” Vito quietly murmured in Italian to Leon. Leon just grinned, winked once, and mouthed ‘you owe me.’ Leon started rowing and within a minute, the gondola was out of view.

Vito stared down at the water and, after glancing around once, he bent down and picked up the wet rose. He brushed the soft yet watery petals and smiled. He gently placed in into the golden vase and his eyes softened as he gazed upon the rose among all the white carnations. With the smile still on his face, he rowed down the canal.