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The rays of the Mediterranean sun slicing across Lovino’s back was an unforgettable sight to wake up to.
At least for Antonio, anyway.
Blinking the sleep dust out of his eyes, he paws around for his usual pack of cigars on the side table before coming up short. He bites his lip in frustration, only pausing when he feels a cool hand on his skin.
“You promised me you’d stop, bastard,” Lovino grunts, his expression fierce – even though his nose is scrunched up cutely and he’s pouting more than frowning. He slaps Antonio’s back before rearranging the blankets around their waist. “There aren’t any here.”
“Hmph. I am not quitting that easily,” Antonio replies, half heartedly rummaging through Lovino’s drawers. “Where are those damn...”
“You said that about your family,” Lovino says, his accent thick with smugness, his r’s rolled lazily. “Now come here and give me a morning kiss.”
Antonio’s lips open to protest, but all thoughts of smoke and aroma vanish from his mind when Lovino tackles him, pushing down on his sun kissed chest and coiling himself like a vice around the Spaniard, content oozing into clenched shoulder blades and curled feet. He sneers at Antonio, pushing his arm away from the table and pinning him underneath him for a moment.
A familiar heat pools in Antonio’s lower torso which infects the rest of his body, sealed curtains and Lovino’s ragged panting awakening a tantalising memory of last night. His left hand clench in the sheets, right hand gripping Lovino’s mussed hair and engulfing him into his arms.
“You let your guard down, Vargas,” he breathes, pressing his mouth deeper with barely feigned resistance from him. “What would your grandfather say, seeing you in my bed?”
Lovino shakes his head once and kisses him again, his hands falling on the sides of Antonio’s flushed face. “He’d say ‘Porco dio, you haven’t quit that filthy man?’ and erase me from consigliere duties.”
“That means that you can spend all day with me instead of advising him, and what little duties he wants you to have,” Antonio says, smirking up at him. “Would you prefer that? Quit your family and we can just have our own.”
“You ask boldly,” Lovino replies, but his sharp mouth falls just short of a retort. He traces an old, faded scar on Antonio’s cheekbone. The weal is pink – a far cry from the scarlet that Lovino remembers it had been – but it’s enough to remind him of how scarce his time with Antonio together in his tiny apartment is. “But...I’d want that.”
Antonio grins, as if to take his lover’s rejection in stride – but for a moment he’s dumbstruck, his chapped lips parting slightly. “Ah? You’d...actually want to?”
The air between them is thick with tension. Antonio shifts a little, lowering further onto Lovino, the blankets spilling onto the floor.
“Look, is...is that a problem?” Lovino sputters, a slight blush splashing onto his olive cheeks, looking away for a moment. “You’re as far from the mafioso life as possible. I’m starting to feel like it isn’t a bad idea to follow you. It would be nice to be as happy as Feli-”
“Lovi,” Antonio breathes, a beam spreading on his face. Suddenly, he envelops Lovino’s slenderer frame into his arms again, squeezing him tight, exhaling a held breath in his freshly washed hair.
“W-what? Let go of me, bastard!” Lovino shrieks and tries to fight free, but his resistance comes in the form of bruised knuckles pressing into the Spaniard’s chest. “Honestly, you-”
“Te quiero,” Antonio murmurs, not daring it to say it in English. Lovino’s heart pounds in his chest; he still hasn’t been able to pick up Spanish as well as he'd like to, but he doesn’t need to know Antonio’s mother tongue with fluency to understand what he means. “Te quiero mucho, Lovi.”
Feliciano doesn’t seem to be able to perceive when his brother’s tuning into the meeting of his grandfather and his cosca, and not his babble.
“Of course, we must have the venue guarded forty eight hours before the ceremony,” Roma said, tapping his fingers idly on the table. “I fear that there could be an ambush set up by the time we manage to conduct the ceremony.
“But, Roma,” one of his capos interjected in rapid Italian, “Would that be a significant loss on our side? Assuming that most of our resources will be called in from this half of the country...”
“Of course. But I will spare my grandson no expense.”
Lovino frowned from the two rightmost seats he and Feliciano were sat in; he could tell Roma’s carefully hidden elation was starting to show in their plans. Even when they were children, Roma had kept everything about him secret. Even in today’s meeting in the House Vargas villa, the lush curtains were drawn tightly.
Only his daughter – Lovino and Feliciano’s mother, knew Roma’s real name – but the guarded façade he showed to the rest of his organisation crumbled around Feliciano.
Therefore, when Feliciano racked up the courage to confess to his grandfather about his relationship with his fiancé, a German named Ludwig, Roma was beside himself. Having stayed effectively single his entire life, a strong wish for his grandsons was for them to find happiness in the comfort of others. So when Ludwig and his family brought themselves to visit Sicily for the first time, Roma had went all out, abandoning any pretense of a mafia family to entertain them, if only to secure Feliciano’s happiness.
Too bad for Lovino, who knew that his grandfather would never care for his own joy as long as that portion of it was linked with Antonio.
He’d always known that Feliciano was his grandfather’s favourite, but his resentment had arisen five years ago, on the heels of a sweltering summer after Ludwig’s family had returned home. Mustering up the courage, he had decided to approach his grandfather in their villa.
Lovino closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, tuning out the discussion of bodyguards and bouquets.
“Grandfather, if only you would give us a chance and see us like you entertained Ludwig, you could see us happy,” Lovino rattled off, barely tripping over his words as he paced around Roma’s desk. The curtains were drawn but only slightly, allowing the two men to look out at the intricately placed gardens in front of their villa; a clear pool, carefully trimmed bushes, water gently bubbling in a perfect fountain.
“Ludwig does not carry the Carriedo name,” Roma said, his eyes drifting past Lovino’s pacing figure into the sun lit gardens behind him. “We do not want to get tangled into another country’s system.”
“But, Grandfather-” Lovino started, but paused as he heard the door open underneath them – it could just be Feliciano returning home from the airport, but if it was another capo...
He switched to English, the speed of his speech slowing down considerably from his rapid fire mother tongue, his tone evening out slightly. “But, Grandfather, he is no longer affiliated with his family. It won’t-”
“Yes, it will, Lovino,” Roma responded, striking the table once. “I do not doubt his distaste for his family, but I cannot take any risks. If there is something that will affect us, I will stamp it out. You cannot possibly hope of a peaceful life with him.”
Lovino clenched his fists inside his pockets, and steeled himself to speak. “You are the one making it the opposite of peaceful!”
There was a velvety pause in the room, thick and uncomfortable if either party dare scratch it. Roma pressed his lips tightly into a thin line, eyes clouding over for a moment before turning to face his grandson again.
“Lovino,” Roma started, hesitating before continuing. His hands lay strangely still on his table, an anchor keeping him rooted in his position. “Lovino, when you and Feliciano were infants, your mother came home one day from the hospital with two sons with me.”
“I know how my parents met,” Lovino said dismissively – he had heard his grandfather wax lyrical about the day his mother gave birth to the both of them -but Roma soldiered on, beckoning his grandson to sit opposite him.
“Then you know the rest of the story. How your mother, my figlia mia, worried for you most before she passed on. That she knew you would try to outflank my guards, put me off, and remove your layers of protection, even though I had made the two of you a consigliere so that anyone understood that touching a grandson of mine would mean a war against myself. You do not understand how much this protection has saved the two of you.”
“That does not mean I cannot see a future with Anto-”
“No, Lovino!” Roma shouted, and suddenly he’d grabbed Lovino’s collar – not hard enough to choke him, but it sent a jet of shock skittering down his spine - and brought him even closer.
“You will never see that boy with my permission, do you understand? I will not have a member of our house elope with someone that might bring chaos to our sanctuary!”
Lovino paused – he had never seen Grandpa Roma this angry. His knuckles trembled on his collar, he was breathing heavily, he’d almost spat out those Italian words, and the furrow between his eyebrows had deepened.
But so had Lovino’s anger.
He grappled with his grandfather’s arm, wrenching it off him before kicking the chair from behind him, the impact eliciting a harsh sound from the wall where it made contact.
“I’ll continue seeing him, whether you like it or not, you bastard! Remove my protection, my status, whatever you do so. But you won’t stop me seeing him!”
Lovino saw Roma open his mouth, his eyes blazing, but whatever tongue lashing would have come out of Roma was punctuated with Lovino slamming the door on him.
“That was a long meeting wasn’t it, Lovino?” Feliciano remarked cheerfully, stretching his arms after the meeting had been adjourned for half an hour. “Thankfully we did not have much to say.”
“Why don’t you speak Italian?” Lovino replied, but there was no real bite to his voice as they continued to walk the length of the villa’s garden. Funnily enough, even though Ludwig and his brother were German and Italian respectively, they preferred to speak English to each other – perhaps he was trying to practise the language? “It’s – well. You have a point, after all. It’s just a ceremony. Grandfather would never spare a single expense for you. He wants to see you happy.”
Feliciano beamed. “He always has. You too, Lovi!”
“Oh, of course,” Lovino said – what else could he say. “But really, I think him watching you get married will make him very happy as well.”
“...would it make you?” Feliciano was looking very seriously into his eyes now; he hadn’t been exactly...enthusiastic about Ludwig. Sure, Lovino could spite him – he could talk about Antonio and the bitterness between the entire debacle, but why?
“It makes me happy. Really, really.”
“Lately, a bull’s been visiting the trash disposal near my block. Do you think I should go play with it?”
“Don’t even think about it, bastard!”
“You know,” Antonio said, wiping off his kitchen countertop with a damp towel absentmindedly as he cradled the phone between his shoulder and neck, “You’re cute when you’re angry. Really cute.”
“Be quiet, you,” Lovino responded, nursing his cup of warm coffee. “Listen. You’re not allowed to die. It’s ridiculous that you think I can keep on going without y-”
Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to hear that. Shit shit shit. “Porco dio, I-”
“Lovinoooooo!!” Lovino barely had time to wince before Antonio started cooing over the telephone. “You are so cute, caring about me.”
“I’m not that cold!” came the retort, and there was a pause. “Of course, you wouldn’t do anything that would upset Feliciano on his wedding day.”
Antonio pursued his lips – he...wouldn’t have figured out, would he? Antonio had begged Feliciano for weeks to keep it under wraps, and he knew that he had promised his fiancé wouldn’t know either, but...
“Antonio?”
“Yeah, still here. Sorry, was thinking about something,” Antonio muttered, putting the phone on speaker and letting the sound resonate throughout the small apartment as Lovino continued to speak about the perils of bulls and bullfighting. He scrabbled around for his pair of cheap headphones before plugging them into his phone and picking it up again, sitting on the sofa impatiently. He started to thumb through his texts with Feli.
“You have that red jacket, it could work. So if you’re going to work one day and you see it coming at you, pull it out!”
“Sure, Lovi,” Antonio said, reading up his messages with Feliciano. The last message was eighteen hours ago. Venue, setting, his mode of transportation, safety...nothing about a possible leak. Feliciano’s instincts regarding his twin were too strong; he’d knew that Feliciano would immediately would alert him if anything seemed amiss. “Say, what if I was coming home with my groceries and fruits and stuff, and I had a bunch of tomatoes? Would you think it would hurt if I threw them and ran?”
Lovino stifled a laugh. Only Antonio could think of this stuff; even though he could probably outrun a bull, he’d try these stupid tactics into getting out of it. “I don't think you could handle the loss, you idiot - well, how many tomatoes have you eaten in your life?”
“Not enough and you know it. Honestly though, he won’t be back soon. No need to worry.”
“I’m not worried,” Lovino muttered, the tips of his ears turning pink. “But I do miss you.”
Antonio smiled. Naturally, he could tease him for hours, but...every time Lovino declared his affection for him, it felt like his heart was going to burst. “I miss you, too. I hope we’ll get to see each other again soon.”
“Well, I will try my best after Feliciano’s ceremony,” Lovino replied. “Well, I actually have to go out with Feli in a bit, so we could talk later?”
“Mm, of course. See you, my dear.”
After hearing Lovino’s reply, Antonio watched the call close from his phone, then placed it back on the countertop and sighed.
I hope Feliciano’s guess was right, or this could all be for nothing.
Ludwig leaned back on his chair, squinting at his reflection in the mirror. Even though he’d just popped in his contacts, he was struggling a little to connect his reflection with the person he had been just last night – mussed hair, ratty shirt, shorts frantically pacing around the small hotel room – with this man wearing an impeccable black suit and slightly confused smile.
Also, a grouchy Italian behind him.
“You look like you’ve just come up for air after a swim,” Lovino said behind him, and any other day Ludwig would have taken that as an insult if it weren’t for the smirk on his face. “Relax, Mr Beilschmidt.”
Ludwig sighed, giving his hunched shoulders a shrug and taking a deep breath. “I am marrying your brother. Today. It is quite hard to understand still. Please, bear with me.”
“Relax,” Lovino stated again, awkwardly placing his hands on his chair. “It’s a civil union, after all. You’ll be fine.”
“I hope,” Ludwig replied, attempting to force his lips into a smile. It looked like he had just consumed the sourest pickle known to man. “I hope. The amount of guests is a little daunting. I did not expect that many. Mr Roma insisted in giving our entire family a security briefing, as well.”
Well, because Grandfather thought that having a small army of security guards would freak everyone out especially in your family, Lovino thought to himself. He was about to make a dry quip, but Ludwig spoke first: “Although, it is good to see that Feliciano is so loved.”
Lovino fiercely bit his lip to keep himself from laughing – although, it was quite endearing to know that Ludwig thought so highly of his brother. “Yes, well, we have been here for long while. We will miss him when you take him to Germany.”
Ludwig’s cheek muscles appeared to relax, and he parted his mouth slightly to speak, but he was interrupted by two sharp knocks on the door. Before either could move to intercept it, Ludwig’s older brother Gilbert burst into the room.
“Oi, we gotta go soon,” Gilbert said, jabbing a thumb behind him into the corridor – then paused, peering at Lovino before switching into German. “The grandpa’s waiting. I don’t think you should leave him waiting any longer, he has a lot of men in suits around him.”
“Right. Well, we should be going, yes,” Ludwig said, ignoring Lovino’s weird stare. If only Feli had not reassured me so much...I should have learned German. “Thank you. For the discussion, Lovino.”
“You, too,” Lovino mumbled back, waiting for the two brothers to leave the room before quickly dashing in back inside the ornate room in the villa. He messed with his jacket, straightening his curl, and took one more deep breath before turning off the lights.
It had been a long time since Feliciano had seen his grandpa so jolly.
The florist that they had hired had come in last minute with a myriad of flower arrangements, all too beautiful. Feliciano had started to internally steel himself to choose one from the vibrant colours, but to his surprise his grandpa just waved his hand and pointed back out to where the venue was.
“Andiamo!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “Today’s my grandson’s wedding. We’ll have all three.”
Next to him, Feliciano watched one of his grandfather’s capos blink once and open his mouth before he stopped.
“But, Grandpa,” Feliciano murmured nervously, bending over to his grandpa, “Having all those are going to come over our budget and you might not be able to, I mean, um-”
“Ah, my beautiful grandson, it is a beautiful day,” Roma smiled indulgently, patting his grandson’s meticulously brushed hair. “As beautiful as the day your mother got married. So of course, I will not forget today. You remember that no Sicilian can refuse any request of a bambino’s wedding!”
“Grandpa,” Feliciano began, but Roma was on a roll: “I’ve had to approve some silly requests today. Approve an extended leasing, receive some dubious presents...” he gestured to the back of the room, where a sizeable cluster of gifts had been gathered –tall flower arrangements and packages with notecards placed strategically in the middle with names adorned on them. From judges, to businessmen, to people who Feliciano couldn't recognize...it was clear they were sent to curry favour with the Don Vargas and not him.
“But you must not let that get you down, my boy.” Roma smiled, patting him again. “The others do not matter. Today is your last day of knowing just happiness from your grandpa and your brother; today you will know happiness from the Beilschmidts as well.”
Feliciano bent down and hugged his grandpa tightly, putting away the thought of Antonio waiting anxiously at the airport for a moment.
But that moment soon ended, and after briefly excusing himself, Feliciano quickly typed out a message to him.
The merrily ringing church bells were resonating in Lovino’s head as he massaged Feliciano’s tense shoulders, careful to not ruin the impeccable Italian suit he was wearing.
“Feli, are you still nervous?” Lovino murmured, looking at how his brother’s thumb kept on running over his knuckles. “I thought you got out all your damn crying this morning.”
“Who isn’t nervous on his own wedding day?” Feliciano replied, eyes darting to the door before back to his phone in his lap. They were waiting with Grandpa Roma for three o’clock, when the ceremony would officially begin. “He even bought three vases for the vase breaking...”
Lovino snorted; the merchants must have taken advantage of his grandfather’s old ways. “Maybe he just wants you and Ludwig to stay together for as long as you two can.”
His brother nodded, closing his phone with a loud snap. “I’ll just stamp on it so many times that we can’t see how many pieces are left, and then Ludwig and I will always be together.”
“Always, hm?” Roma cut in, moving to stand next to Lovino, who didn’t even wince when Roma placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Of course. This will always be one of the happiest days of my life!”
“Grandpa,” Feliciano’s switch to English meant that his speech slowed down out of the blue, his entire body strangely unmoving and facing forward. “Please, do not get angry at me. Please,”
“...Feli?” Roma laughed, ruffling his hair again, Feliciano’s change seemingly having gone unnoticed. “Why would I ever get angry at you? It is your wedding day!”
Lovino bent down a little to try to catch a glimpse of his brother’s face – he’d never felt such tension from his brother so close to the ceremony. “Feliciano, what-”
Whatever burning question at the tip of his tongue was silenced by a commotion near the doorway. Heavily accented shouts accompanied by an uneven banging caused all both Roma and Lovino to rise to their feet, alarmed. Despite all the security had there been an attack?
“Who got through?” Roma bellowed, striding towards the area, his fists clenched so tightly that Lovino could see his knuckles turn white underneath his pristine coat sleeve. “How dare you let them enter!”
Lovino was already tugging on Feliciano’s arm before he could react. “Feli, we have to go. Someone’s already in the goddamn grounds, it’s not safe-”
“I did it for you, Lovino,” Feliciano whispered in response – Lovino didn’t even have a moment to understood what he meant before Feliciano pushed away the chair and had grasped his arm, thrusting his way through the alarmed capos. “Wait a moment!”
“Feli, are you crazy? You remember what Roma told us about safety! They’re probably armed! He’ll fucking kill me if anything happens to you!” Lovino shouted desperately, trying to wrest his arm from his brother’s unending grip. “Damn it, it’s not safe!”
He shook his head in response, pushing past an alarmed guard who stood there in almost complete silence. “You couldn’t do it in Spain, so I brought him to you.”
“...Spain?!” A scream threatened to erupt from Lovino’s throat, and all the commotion from the entrance of the chapel seemed to fade along with the church bells into the background, drowned out by the roaring of his own mind. “You don’t...you can’t mean-”
By the time Lovino’s mouth closed on the words Antonio, his eyes had met with the familiar green eyes of his beloved.
“He claims to have a request, Don Vargas, but he is clearly not from the region,” one of the capos was quickly explaining to Roma, kicking his crouched form on the floor. The harsh sound of the tip of his expensive leather shoes meeting with Antonio’s forearm ran through Lovino’s frayed senses. “He may be out to ruin today’s ceremony.”
“Is this the...Lovino, come here at once!” Roma snarled, slamming his left hand against a wall. The crowd of capos parted in front of him, and Lovino began to step forward, but Feliciano pushed in front of him. “How dare you – I warned you time and time again!”
“Feli, get away!” Lovino hissed, his gaze fixated on Antonio’s crumpled over body, his eyes dilated with fright.
He heard Feliciano audibly swallow. “No, Grandpa,” he said, moving to stand face to face with his grandfather, whose mouth was hanging slightly ajar. “It is not Lovino that brought him here today. It was me.”
An audible shock echoed around the room, Lovino included, a horror so severe that he stopped cold in his movements, his heartbeat as cold as ice. He thought he saw Antonio mouth something to him, but couldn’t make it out before Feliciano continued to speak.
“I know how you have said it is impossible for them to love, but I don’t think so, you’ve seen that it is possible! My father used to have ties to an another crime family in the North, you know that.”
Lovino pressed his lips tightly to avoid recoiling from shock excessively; he knew Feliciano was speaking in English for a very specific reason.
Roma’s breath stilled, hands unclenching to rest stonily at his sides. “...You know how that turned out, Feliciano. I had to double the protection placed on her. I regret letting her, sometimes even now!”
“You’re not telling the truth, Grandpa,” Feliciano replied, and gripped their grandfather’s large hand passionately, holding it to his chest as he gestured with the other wildly. “You let our mother marry our father because you loved her. And wanted to see her happy. So why can’t you let Lovino do the same?”
“I fear,” Roma replied, his voice cracking for a moment before he composed himself, and looked his grandson in the eye. “I fear, because you are the only two pieces of her that I have left, the woman I gave away on her wedding day...she always told me that you two were the best things that she ever left behind, and I know that to be true. If something happens to Lovino because I allowed this union, I would never look at myself again. It is why I was so happy for your match, Feliciano, because I know Ludwig would give you happiness.”
Feliciano smiled, the dimples on his face deepening as he pressed his lips to their grandfather’s hand. “You love Lovino, don’t you?”
“...” Roma paused for a moment, looking at Lovino’s emotional expression before turning back to Feliciano. “Of course. I love him as much as I love you and your mother.”
Feliciano nodded once before delving back into the crowd and gently pulling Lovino to stand in front of their grandfather. “Then let the person he loves give him happiness. You can always trust in Lovino.”
“Lovino, is this what you really want?” Roma murmured. His brows were furrowed together and his gaze was directed at the once-terrified Antonio behind him, lingering for a long moment before returning to his grandson. “Do you really want him for the rest of your life?
“Yes,” Lovino said, his heart skipping a beat as he fought off bitter memories of the day in his grandfather’s study in the villa. “Yes, I...please, hear out his request.”
Roma took a deep breath, then stepped past his grandsons to face Lovino. The capos around him stirred slightly, but he thrusted his right arm in their direction to stop them. “Stand up, boy.”
In a slight daze, Antonio gingerly stood up, dusting himself down before facing Roma. Lovino tried to ignore the discoloured bruise on his forearm, and looked only at his face. Feliciano’s gaze met Antonio’s for a moment in silent thanks as he moved to Lovino’s side.
“Make your request before me, and I will hear you.”
“Don Vargas,” Antonio began hesitantly in shaky Italian, his accent thickening with nervousness. “I...have come today to ask for the hand of your grandson, Lovino Vargas.”
“What?” a murmur sprung up within the group of mafioso, one that rapidly reverberated the room. Another, fainter exclamation: “But...what about the bloodline?”
Antonio continued daringly, taking a deep breath after Roma gave no response but merely stared at him. “I would ask you to grant my sincerest request for Lovino’s hand.”
It finally dawned on Lovino why Feliciano had insisted on bringing Antonio deep into the heart of the Italian island to speak with his grandfather.
No Sicilian can refuse any request on his grandson’s wedding day...