Work Text:
Then (January 15, 1680).
"Fucking Pirates!" Spain tore the parchment to threads, making the boy that delivered it flinch and recoil in fear. "Fucking infidel rats! They couldn't have stayed in the damn Mediterranean where they were already a pain in the ass enough?!"
He was enraged; fists shaking, despite the iron tension of his arms, nails sinking into skin through the remains of the destroyed letter and bare torso heaving with labored breaths. Raw ire and a thunderstorm in his eyes, as he grit his teeth together. No wonder the poor messenger seemed at the verge of pissing himself.
Austria yawned, rubbing his eyes. Despite how unappealing the world outside of the heavy fur blankets seemed, he swung first one leg and then the other over the edge of the bed, standing up and rearranging his nightgowns’ soles to pool around his ankles. Padding with bare foot over the carpet he approached Antonio's side, carefully resting his palm over his husband's chest.
He nodded at the boy, who needn’t to be told twice and fled their alcove immediately, heavy oak door shutting behind him on its own volition.
"This is all Jan's fault. He's way too eager to help these godless vipers just to spite me." Antonio growled under his breath, glaring pointedly at the floor, which really did nothing to deserve such animosity. Austria hummed, resting his chin on Spain's shoulder and softly running the tips of his fingers through the fine hairs of Antonio's chest. His other hand found its way to Spain's hip, setting there firmly.
It took a few minutes of silence and encompassed breathing until Spain's muscles started to relax, the balance of his body leaning softly towards Austria. Roderich kissed the freckles of his shoulder, gently brushing his cold nose against warm skin.
"Do you know what day is today?"
"The day of sinking my ships, apparently."
"Antonio-" Roderich gave a reproachful tap to Spain's chest.
"Yeah, yeah. Happy birthday to me." He turned his face towards his husband, accepting the kiss that was awaiting for him.
"Happy birthday, my dear. Now come back to bed. I have two presents for you and neither of them requires for us to be dressed." The suggestive curve of his lips, that matched the insinuation in his voice, withered when Spain didn't even react to his flirtation, apparently lost in gloomy thoughts again.
Roderich sighed and stepped aside, crossing his arms over his chest. "Will you let go of this already? There's nothing you can do about it anyway."
Spain made a wry face "I love how much faith you put in me."
Roderich, rolled his eyes, huffing. He'd find out later who had the brilliant idea of delivering the ‘good news’ to his husband first thing in the morning, and make sure they heard a piece of his mind. He turned around, walking towards the wooden trunk in the corner of the room. Even if he could convince Spain to drop the topic, it was obvious that Antonio was not in the right mood for some sweet loving right now, and Austria didn't like it rough before breakfast, so his actual present would have to go first. With a bit of luck it would make Antonio forget for a while about his political troubles.
Apparently though, Spain interpreted his change of plans as a taken offense, because he hurried after Austria, grabbing his wrist.
"Hey, I'm sorry. You know I'm just tired of this. With Charles the way he is, his new right hand... everyone has it out for me these days and my navy is already at its last breath. I shouldn't be taking it out on you."
"No, you shouldn't." Roderich raised an eyebrow. "But I know you can hardly control yourself when you are so stressed. Just take a day off once in a while, like today, for example. I'm not going to be here for much longer."
Antonio sighed, winding his arms around Austria's waist and burying his nose in the crook of his husband's neck. "When are you leaving?"
Roderich kissed his hair, hugging him back. "Probably on Friday. I still need to settle the troubles in Bohemia, among other issues."
Spain tightened his embrace, grumbling something into Austria's neck.
"I know, dear. But I'm positive that the little thing I got for you will take the bite off our parting." He nudged at Spain's shoulders, encouraging him to sit on the bed. Leaning down, Austria gave him a peck on the forehead and then went back to his trunk, where he'd hidden a pretty big package wrapped in light blue fabric. Bringing it over, he placed it over Spain's thighs, climbing on the bed himself and hugging Antonio from behind.
It occurred to him that he was acting more affectionate than the usual - specially since the death of John Joseph, that so many headaches brought them - because over the past couple of weeks that he's been in Spain, he'd weirdly missed his husband, even if they talked every day, slept in the same bed and made love almost every night.
Antonio was perpetually tired - carrying the drought that suffocated his people in his own bones - worried about the economy, the state of his navy and army, the international struggles and their future... He kept either avoiding uncomfortable topics or chewing on them over and over again.
Austria had his own problems back home, he knew that instinctively, but he couldn't leave without at least seeing his beloved happy and cheerful again. Spain's smile was usually the last thing he thought about in the lonely nights he spent in his house and within his own bed. He couldn't let its comfort fade from his memory, replaced by a frown and tightly drawn lips.
They had an expiration date. Austria had known that for long enough, but he was almost sure that this wasn't it yet.
So he scooted even closer, arms around Spain's middle and both of his knees at the sides of his husband’s hips, gently nibbling at his neck as Antonio paused mid-unwrapping to shoot him a curious look over his shoulder. He wasn't complaining though, so Austria nudged him with his chin to continue.
Inside the fabric turned out to be a beautifully carved wooden case, decorated with motifs of nature and astronomy. Austria hated to admit it, but he was actually nervous; even if he had ordered this gift on a whim, overtaken by a sudden feeling of longing at the right time and in the right company, he actually felt as if it was a creation of his own hands, just because of all the thought he'd put into it.
Spain flipped open the locks, raising the lid, and because of how close they were Austria felt his reaction, even if he couldn't see his eyes. He felt Antonio’s breath hitch, how still he'd become for a few seconds, the reverent exhale and the vibration of the skin at his nape when he uttered the soft "woah..." before carefully reaching out to run the tip of his index finger over the luxurious purfling of the most beautiful instrument he's ever seen.
“She is the work of a young master in Cremona, an apprentice in Amati’s workshop that has been gaining a lot of fame for himself lately. I’ve heard wonders about his work and wanted to see by myself if his instruments were really that exquisite. However, when we were talking about the new violin I wanted, he mentioned the guitar that he'd just finished and showed it to me. I just couldn’t resist the temptation of ordering another, specifically for you.”
“She is amazing…” Antonio agreed, picking it up with care and, putting the case aside, resting it over his thighs. He took his sweet time caressing the wood and the engravings with pleasure, then trying the tuning knobs until they were perfectly adjusted, and the sampling notes that he rang vibrated with an unrivaled clarity.
He began with a song he’d learned recently, a calm, amicable piece full of warmth and simple comfort. Slow but elaborate enough to appreciate fully the sweet aftertaste of the notes hanging in the air. Playing that instrument felt like looking at the cloudless sky of a sunny winter day through precious jewels.
Austria rested by his side, body flush against his husband’s and listening with his eyes closed, a peaceful smile adorning his lips and the fall of his eyelashes.
Spain finished the tune and turned to kiss his forehead, full of affection and calm. Somehow, just that one song made him feel infinitely better.
“Thank you.” He whispered.
Austria accepted his gratitude, returning his chaste kiss with a more loving one to his lips.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“My congratulations to the master. What is his name?”
“Oh, just like yours, actually: Antonio. Antonio Stradivari.”
***
That guitar became a little personal treasure for Spain. In the long periods of time that they spent apart, he would take it out and think of Roderich as he played, or compose little, sweet melodies to gift his beloved when they finally saw each other.
However, not even these tiny oases of peace, and sharing their common interests in the intimacy of their alcove, could spare them from reality. Less than twenty years passed too quickly, too many arguments and cold shoulders, too many silent looks, trying to gather the courage to express in words what they both knew but struggled to accept.
The death of Joseph Ferdinand - the heir that was expected to carry on his childish shoulders the prevalence of their union – felt like a sign from God.
Charles II followed him to the surprise of absolutely no-one. A last curse from the Bewitched King - a testament that meant way more than a change of a royal house. Antonio was forced to make a choice, and had he been able to reconcile his mind and his heart sooner, it would have saved him from the devastating agony and misery of a civil war, of rage, pain and desperation. He lost. No matter how you looked at it, he lost to himself. At the least he was assured that neither Philip, nor his descendants, would ever be able to present claim to the French throne, nor otherwise. A simple formality, that saved him from having to bear another ring on his finger too soon, and too unwelcomed.
He didn’t want to, but most importantly – he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready yet to remake his life again, to laugh and smile and love. He wasn’t ready to play and compose or to pick up that guitar and blow the dust off her surface. The sight of her burned his retinas and his heart, so he put her away. The longing crushed his soul, so he made one last visit, to say goodbye. The soft embrace of his bed bore the memories of the one that would never lay in it again, so he left it.
He sailed away and hoped that time would heal his wounds.
Time.
Such a strange relationship that he always had with time. Maybe because more than anyone else, he could have had it bent to his will, but he left it slip between his fingers instead.
Time was what he had needed to fall in love with Austria, since their wedding to their first “I miss you”, time was what he needed to nurse his heartbreak until it almost stopped hurting. Time was what he used to convince himself that it had been for the better.
And time… time brought them back together, again.
***
When the past ends, the present begins.
***
Now (December 6, 2017).
Antonio wakes up to an empty bed.
It doesn't bother him much. He hits snooze, resisting the temptation to throw his phone out of the window. But remembering what day it's today improves his mood. He takes ten minutes of browsing through notifications to finish waking up and then leaves it on the nightstand, padding in the direction of the kitchen.
Austria, dressed into one of Antonio's old football t-shirts and his own pajama bottoms, is standing in front of the coffeemaker; mussed bed-hair and arms in jars, starting pointedly at his slowly filling cup.
Spain hugs him from behind, casually gliding his hands over Austria's sides and stomach until he's pressed with his front to his lover's back, feeling the shape of his body on his own skin and under his palms. Austria lets his body sag against Spain's, breath hitching when Antonio kisses his neck with sleep-warm lips. He is insistent, nibbling and sucking lightly on the spot until a new mark blooms under his mouth, alongside the few that he left last night.
"Good morning." He grins, and Austria pecks his cheek.
"Good morning, love."
"And..."
"And?" Austria raises an eyebrow, not really bothered by the hand looking for warmth under his t-shirt.
"What else do you have to tell me?"
"Do you want coffee?"
Antonio pouts, even if the prospect of coffee does sound good. But Roderich's eyes are smiling in that mischievous way that they do when he's teasing someone he loves.
"Happy Birthday to me!" Antonio sighs melodramatically. "What are my woes that not even my husband remembers my special day!"
"Ex-husband" Austria shakes his head even as his lip quirks up. "And it's not my fault that you changed dates." He turns in Spain's embrace until his back is against the counter and his front flush against Antonio, who nudges his thigh between Austria's legs. "You can't expect me to keep up with everything."
"You also changed your date and I remembered it." Antonio points out.
Roderich hums, tilting his head and brushing a strand of hair away from Spain's eyes. "Because you are just that sweet."
Antonio leans in for a short kiss, hesitantly parting from Roderich afterwards to get coffee for himself. He drops two spoonfuls of sugar in it and then adds milk for good measure, under the ever-judging gaze of his beloved, who makes a point out of taking a long gulp from his black, barely sweetened coffee. Antonio snorts at him.
"What time are we meeting everyone?"
"At 11:00 in the park. The reservation is for 13:00. I know it's way too early for you, but considering how much you and your brother love to sit for hours and chat after lunch, I prefer to be sure that you'll be ready to leave the restaurant by five. Besides, Belgium has her flight back at 18:30."
Antonio nods, lowering himself to the seat in front of him. "Are you still not gonna tell me these grand plans you have for the two of us afterwards?"
Roderich hides his smirk behind the rim of his mug. "I guess you'll have to wait and see."
Antonio rests his chin on the back of his hands, grinning at him. "We still have some time left. A quick shower?"
It's not quick, obviously, and they end up leaving the house ten minutes late. In a hurry Spain almost forgets his wallet and Austria decides, at the last second, to pick up Antonio's classical guitar, swinging the beaten down case over his shoulder.
They make it to the meeting point late, but still have to wait for Portugal and the Italy brothers. Thanks to the flurry of the day and their friend's company, Antonio doesn't have to stew over the mystery of not knowing what Roderich has planned.
It's not until they say goodbye to everyone and Roderich pulls at him by the hand that Antonio's curiosity returns. He tries to guess along the metro ride: a dancing club? a romantic picnic? the zoo? But Austria just smirks, enjoying his suffering. They get off in La Latina and walk for a couple blocks till their destination.
"Um... honey."
"Yes, dear?"
"Why are we here?"
"I told you, it's a surprise."
"No I mean. Why are we at the Duque de Alba square? The only thing here is-"
Roderich rings the bell to the Ministry of Time, looking up at the camera before the door buzzes open.
"There you are, gentlemen. Salvador Martí greets Roderich with an enthusiastic handshake and then hugs the dumbfolded Antonio, to his further surprise. "Happy Constitution day, birthday, whatever."
"Sorry for making you come here today, Salvador." Roderich apologizes with a polite smile.
"You know each other?" Antonio blurts out, but gets completely ignored.
"It's alright. We have two missions going on right now. In my profession not even the days off are normal. But I made sure to prepare everything like you asked me to."
Scribbling down something on a post-it he hands it to Roderich. "This is the door number. Angustias will accompany you to there. Now if you excuse me-" he waves them off, accepting a call on his vibrating phone.
"Yes! No, I explicitly ordered you not to have sex with the Queen. Irene, now- no, sleeping with the king's mistress doesn't make it even. Well then shake them off. How fast can the palace guards be?"
Antonio is pulled by the hand and down the well that serves as an entrance to the ministry before he can ask if everything's alright. When they finally find the door and Angustias leaves them alone, after congratulating Antonio with a kiss to the cheek, Roderich turns to him, holding a black stripe of fabric in his extended palms.
"Do you trust me?"
"With my life." Antonio answers without a sliver of doubt. "Why?"
Austria brings the blindfold to his eyes, tying it behind his head. "Then don't protest and let me guide you. It might take a while."
He sounds like he’s trying to muffle his excitement, probably because he surely put a lot of effort into this surprise, so Antonio decides to indulge him, letting himself be led through the door, taking notice in the sudden temperature drop and the soft feel of non-paved earth under his feet.
Roderich puts something on top of his head and shoulders, probably a hooded cape, and then a third person joins them, talking in whispers with Roderich a few feet away, while Antonio awaits leaning on what he suspects is a stone wall.
What follows is the neigh of horses and a ride in a carriage for at least twenty minutes, with Roderich sitting by his side.
"How do you even know Salvador?" Antonio asks him again.
"When you went out of your way in the middle of a mission and crossed half of Europe in 1919 just to give me a scarf, the Ministry got suspicious and tried to investigate me."
"Tried to?"
"They figured out my real identity and put two and two together. But when an agent started chatting me up to figure out how much exactly I knew, I straight out told her that I'd only talk to her boss. And that's how I met Salvador."
"You are full of surprises today."
He smiles then, because Austria leans in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Well, I have to put some effort into keeping your interest, right?"
Finally, the carriage comes to a stop and they get off - Austria constantly giving Antonio instructions to be careful and where to step - and enter a house. They have to walk up the stars for half of what Spain's used to when his building's elevator is broken. He's fine, but Roderich, less used to regular exercise, sounds a little bit out of breath when they finally reach a warmed up room. However, before Antonio can get used to the warmth, Austria leads him out into what feels like a balcony.
"We are here." He announces proudly.
"Gee, about time." Spain answers, sarcastically.
He can't see it, but he knows instinctively that Austria must be rolling his eyes. "Look up and take out the blindfold."
Antonio obeys, pulling the fabric away from his eyes. It takes him a few seconds of blinking up into the night until he realizes what he's looking at.
"Wow... holy shit! This is-"
The sky looks like it's divided in two by the brilliant tail of a comet, crossing it like its personal field of billions of glittering stars, the infinite colors of the milky way, so far and yet as sharp as if Antonio could touch it, as if he could run his fingers through that hypnotic tail too, and taste the light off his own skin.
"The Great Comet of 1680. Kirch's comet." Austria's voice is set so low it feels like barely a whisper. "The first discovered by a telescope, so bright we'd even be able to see it if this was the middle of the day."
"It's amazing." Antonio breathes out. "Wow… I’ve seen it before. How could have I forgotten how beautiful it was?"
When Austria doesn't answer for minutes, Spain's eyes flicker from the sky, just for a moment, to his face. Roderich is leaning on the railing by his side, their arms brushing together, and looking up with a peaceful wonder, the night sky reflecting in his eyes.
Antonio looks back up, following the brilliant tail with his eyes. Every centimeter of it, as it burns like the purest of fires over the colorful tapestry of the universe.
When Roderich finally speaks again, his voice seems to evaporate in the air between them just like the puffs of warmth from his lips.
"There with long, bloody hair, a blazing star,
Threatening the world with famine, plague and war.
To princes death, to kingdoms many crosses,
To all estates - inevitable losses.
To herdsmen rots, to ploughman hapless seasons,
To sailors storms, to cities - civil treasons."
"Du Bartas. hm?" Antonio huffs, recognizing the poet’s words. "He was right tho. We've always taken comets... too personally."
"Maybe that's why neither of us remembers it being beautiful. We didn't consider it a spectacle of something greater but a bad omen. I surely know I blamed the theft of Strasbourg by France on the Comet."
The way he says theft is full of scorn and Antonio laughs, shaking his head. "Yeah, I know. And you were not the only one. I actively swore that my economic crisis was the comet's fault. We certainly thought back then that our personal existence was of special meaning to the universe."
"Specially the two of us." Roderich laughs softy. "I think I've never been as vain as when we were together. Because in eyes of God and men we were one, we kept throwing praise at each other and retro-feeding our own egos through it."
"Hey," Antonio nudges his side "We are together again and I keep throwing praise at you. Is that bad?"
"I don't know" Roderich shrugs "But I like it, so I'll take the risk."
Antonio grins at him, even as his teeth chatter slightly.
"Are you cold?" Austria puts an arm around his shoulders. Spain leans into him.
"A bit. But nothing I can't stand for way longer."
"I know, but we can go inside. This is not my only surprise for you today, you know?"
Antonio looks behind them and gapes at the cutely arranged blanket nest surrounded by candles, with a short table in the heart of it. There are simple appetizers, a couple of bottles of wine and a fireplace burning behind it. All in all it looks incredibly cozy and welcoming.
"I can't believe the Ministry let you arrange all of this."
"They sent an agent following my instructions. I think Salvador just likes me, for some reason."
"You've known about the Ministry for so many centuries and you kept the secret even when you could have used it for your own benefit. That's beyond respectable, and not only in his eyes."
"Austria smiles, looking away with a soft blush on his cheeks. “I know how delicate this issue is and how important to you. Now, come inside. Let's get you warmed up and fed."
"In a second." Antonio swears "Just wanna say goodbye for now to the comet."
Roderich gives him an amused look. "I will start by opening the wine, then."
Spain turns to the sky again, discreetly waving with his hand at the comet as a soft smile stretches his lips.
Austria is waiting for him by the fireplace, the warmth of it playing with the shadows of his face. Spain kisses his temple when he sits down next to him, cross-legged and leaning towards the table, picking up a piece of cheese.
"Please, tell me the wine is not from this time."
Austria finishes forcing the decanter plug into the neck of the first one and shows him the label. Balbás Ritus 2011. A very good wine in the general sense of the word, although it's obvious that Austria really needs a master class on Spain's preference in wines. He chalks it down in his memory for a future date and presents his glass, looking rather at the focused face of his lover than at the flowing wine.
"So why this comet, precisely?" He asks when Roderich finishes with his glass and starts filling his own. "There were so many to choose from. Two years from now Halley's comet will return too. Why 1680?"
"For two reasons." Austria answers quietly "First of all - because of the date. There was a door into 1682, but it fell in June. We are not in 1680, by the way. It's 1681 already."
"Wait, really?" Antonio wants to say something else but then he notices the sly gleam in Austria’s eyes. "Oh."
"It's January 15th." Roderich confirms, raising his glass for a toast. "Happy birthday again, my love."
"Wow, you really don't like my change of date, do you?" Antonio teases, even as he gently clinks their glasses together.
Roderich takes a sip, the wine leaving a dark mark on his upper lip. "No, I do, really. I think it's very fitting for this new chapter in your life. I just saw an opportunity and took it. History shouldn't be forgotten either."
Antonio smiles, agreeing with him. "Yeah. Hey, maybe when we get back you can accompany me to visit my Mother and Father. It's been a while since I last went to pay them my respects."
"I would love that."
They sit in a comfortable silence for a while, sipping wine, dipping bread in olive oil and taking small bites of cheese.
"So what's the other reason?"
"Hm?"
"You said there were two reasons to choose this date."
"Oh, right." Austria uses a napkin to get rid of the residue on his fingers and turns fully towards him. "Well, this year we couldn't be together for your birthday. I don't even know what came up, but I had to leave right after Christmas and I do remember your puppy eyes when you were asking me to stay. I felt guilty afterwards."
"Oh, right." Antonio's smile is tinted with melancholy. I remember I made Romano and Belgie stay with me till late instead, played for them that guitar you gave me the previous year until they both fell asleep and I had to wake her up and carry Lovi to bed.
Roderich chuckles. "Yes, Belgium told me about that afterwards in a letter. By the way, what happened to that guitar?"
Antonio makes a grimace. "I'm sorry. I took really good care of her for the rest of our time together, you know it. But um... afterwards.... She just reminded me too much of you. Music did. I stopped playing in general for decades, but when I picked it up again I still couldn't touch her. It felt like I was bleeding my heart out alongside the melody. But when I was moving houses at the beginning of the 1900's I wanted to take her with me. I looked everywhere, I swear. She just evaporated." He really had been desperate, put the entire house upside down, up until he'd been forced to leave. Even when he got that mansion back and locked it under a padlock, full of everything that belonged to his past life, he still did one last check. No sign of that special guitar.
As if feeling his growing distress, Austria reaches for his hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing his knuckles one by one. "It's okay, darling. You got me now. Isn't that better than just an instrument?"
"Yeah." Antonio breathes out, feeling the nervousness recede.
"Besides, I love your music, no matter how or on what it's played. In fact-" Letting go of Spain's hand he turns around, using his elbow as a leverage to drag closer Antonio's case. "Thank God I thought about grabbing this along, why don't you play something for me now? Something old and cheery."
Antonio nods, making space on the table to leave the case on top. He turns the clasps, starting to lift the lid "I mean, it's not a Stradivarius, but Barnabe is conside-"
The rest of the sentence dies in this throat.
For several seconds Spain forgets how to breathe and blink, staring in absolute dismay at his classical guitar, which just isn't there. In its place...
"How?" He whispers. Reverently reaching with his trembling fingers for the masterfully polished surface of a familiar instrument from another time.
"Lovino had her." Austria leans his head on the palm of his hand, watching attentively Spain's face. "He took her accidentally, or so he says, when he moved out. He approached me at the beginning of autumn because he found her and thought you'd be mad at him for 'stealing' her. I told him I'd take care of it personally."
"Can I...?" Spain breathes in deep, hesitant to pick it up. Austria had arranged some extra padding, to accommodate the different shape of the old-styled instrument to the case. Antonio can't believe he's been carrying it all day on his shoulder as if nothing.
"She's yours." Roderich points out with amusement. "I'd actually taken her to a very discreet and professional master that does the maintenance on my own instruments. She's restored, adjusted and ready for you."
Antonio looks up at him, a myriad of emotions in his eyes. "I don't know what to say."
Roderich smiles in that satisfied way of his, like he does when all of his plans align perfectly. "How about you just say you love me-"
"I love you!"
"-and play for me? I meant it before; something old and joyous."
With all the care in the world, Antonio picks up the Stradivarius guitar, growing bolder and more confident as he remembers the feel of her under his hands, the way she fits on his lap and the tension against his fingernails.
A wonder once crafted by a great master deserves a great master to be honored through its chords. Antonio picks a couple notes, checking the tuning, and then inspires deeply. He takes one last look at Austria's expectant face, but lowers his eyes when the first notes of Tarantela fill the air.
It's an energetic song, fast-changing and unpredictable, like the times that its composer, a boy of barely seven in these moments, in this very city, will live through before he writes it. But unlike the history to come, the melody is full of happiness and hope, open, sunny and delighted. Antonio has centuries of experience, enough to be able to keep up with the rises and falls of the tune. This guitar doesn't sound like his modern one does, but that doesn't make her any less beautiful. She's captivating and unique in her own way, so in sync with her rightful owner that the music seems to come alive under his fingertips.
At the same time, on the other end of the city, that period’s Spain is producing a much sadder melody for a disengaged audience, because the person he really wants by his side is kingdoms away.
But that was then, except that then is now and his future self is not holding back tears, he beams with genuine joy and lets out a soft laugh in time with the last notes of his song. Giddy and barely aware of how fast is his heart beating.
"She is incredible." He whispers, running his hand, with the tenderness of a lover, over the curves of the guitar.
Roderich is looking at him with a sea of love and devotion in his eyes. "No, you are." he corrects him and leans in, to share a soft kiss, fleeting and delicate like a butterfly’s wingbeat, but as meaningful as a thousand words.
When he pulls back a hint of a blush takes over his cheeks. Antonio thinks it's ridiculous, because they are not awkward teenagers anymore, sharing their first kiss on their wedding ceremony, but he also can feel his own face warmer. He clears his throat and busies himself with leaving the guitar back in her case, very carefully setting it aside.
Austria, meanwhile, opens another bottle of wine.
"We haven't finished the first one." Antonio points out; there is still a serving left for each of them in the Ritus.
"I just want to make a special toast." Austria shows him the label. Antonio raises his eyebrows. Emilio Moro Crianza 2006. Well, seems like Roderich doesn't need that crash course on Antonio's favorite wines, after all.
Roderich places the new glasses on the table and raises the bottle, letting the wine fall in a sliver of dark cherry. Antonio waits until he's done and then wavers the glass in his hand with a practiced sway, enjoying its bouquet.
Austria does the same, his lips stretching in a pleasurable smile, before he presents his glass. Antonio scoots a bit closer, leaning the rims together.
"So what was that toast you wanted to make?"
Austria clears his throat, setting his shoulders straighter. "Recovering this guitar made me think. About the past, about how easy it would have been for you to change it, to prevent so many disasters from happening, including the doom of our marriage. And yet you always resisted the temptation, because whatever would replace it could have been a fate much worse."
"The past is what it is." Antonio shrugs, quoting the motto of the Ministry.
Austria nods. "Your only misdeed was to come to me when you needed me, so many times. I think there's a lesson for all of us in your fortitude and your love. Our past made us who we are. Without it, we'd have no future. I love and admire the person you've become in these past few centuries, even if I still hold very dear the memory of the man you were before. But it's not that man whom I want to wake up next to, tomorrow. It's you. And I hope I'm the person who you are going to want by your side from now on too."
"You are." Spain breathes out, heart fluttering in his chest like it's about to burst, full of affection and devotion. "You always are. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow, and always."
"Let's allow 'always' to come to us on its own." Austria smiles "And today, toast to tomorrow."
"To tomorrow then." Antonio confirms. "And to long ago."
Roderich's eyes gleam when he clinks their glasses together. He brings his own to Spain's lips, who parts them for it and offers his wine to his lover, to drink from too.
They laugh at the cheesiness of the action and Roderich brushes his fingers through Spain's hair when he leans in to kiss his cheek.
"Now, how about we work that alcohol out?" He produces his phone from his back pocket, fumbling with it for a few seconds until the sound of Spain's earlier performance starts coming out of it.
Antonio raises an eyebrow at Austria, caught in the middle of standing up "When did you record me?"
"I can be sneaky too." He extends his left hand, the right one behind his back. "Are you going to dance with me or shall I do it alone?"
The clear sound resonates within the stone walls, jumping into the burning fire, seeping through time and the open balcony, its echoes chasing after the comet into the vastness of space.
Antonio takes Austria’s hand without hesitation, shaking his head at his beloved's occurrences, and follows Roderich to the center of the room, bringing him closer, just as their feet move on their own accord to a song that won't be heard again for 50 years in the future.