Work Text:
Lately Veneziano has to repeat to himself the list of beautiful things that surround him more times than usual, just so he can remind himself that not everything is going to waste in a world that looks more and more hostile.
He tries to not let his tiredness show, though he must not always succeed considering the meal Romano has decided to serve him that evening.
"Romano what?" he asks, confuse. In front of him, on a white plate decorated with plants that grow on the coasts of Sicily, there's a steaming hot portion of pastina, pasta shaped like the smallest stars immerse in a delicious soup made out of vegetables and chicken, if his nose is correct.
Romano, sat at his side with his arms crossed in front of his chest, doesn't look at him, cheeks dusted with red: "You said you wanted something warm for tonight."
"Y-Yeah, but this..." he doesn't finish the sentence. Pastina is what they prepare when they are sad or sick, a food that brings them immense comfort. To prepare it like this means...
"Don't look at me like that," Romano protests, grabbing his spoon, "I'm not sick or some shit."
"Then why?"
"I just wanted it," he says, eating a spoonful of the pastina while grumbling about stupid little brothers that worry too much.
Veneziano sighs, smiling in the end. That's right: he's not the only one aggravated by the uglier and uglier world they are living in. It's only natural Romano wants some comfort, for himself but also to give to others. He stands and goes to the fridge, where he grabs the perfect addition for their meal, and goes back at the table. He lends a small wrapping to his brother.
"This is..."
"Nothing better than pastina with some formaggino ve," Veneziano says with a wide smile. Romano shakes his head, unable to hide his little smirk. They unwrap the cheese and put it into the warm pastina, moving it around to help it melt. They then take a spoonful of it, sighing at the now sweeter taste. Feeling immensely calmer now, they eat in comfortable silence, for now forgetful of the outside world