Work Text:
August 1974
Armando Primavera considered himself a lucky man – the luckiest, perhaps. He was blessed to live in a beautiful country, with a beautiful climate, in a beautiful home beside the sea. His home sat within many acres of lush land, graced with a bountiful orchard, orange grove, and vineyard. At this time of year, under the glowing, golden sun, the air was filled with the delicious scent of ripening fruit, carried along on the salty sea breeze.
The most beautiful and bountiful of all in Armando's life, however, was his love.
Estela.
Despite being together for several years by now, Armando still felt butterflies every time he set eyes on her. Including tonight, when she gingerly situated herself next to him on their bench overlooking the sparkling blue water. She sat slightly angled towards him, her expression somewhat cautious, but her deep brown eyes sparkling in the warm yellow light of late summer.
“I've got it,” she said, her crisp English accent making Armando melt inside as always.
He turned a little upon his perch to face his wife, clasping her small right hand in both of his. “Got what, mi vida?”
Estela's other hand gently cradled her rounded belly, caressing the swell of her bump lovingly. “What we can call him.”
Armando smiled softly. “We don't know it’s a boy, Stela.”
“I do,” Estela replied stubbornly. “I'm sure of it.”
Shaking his head slightly in fond exasperation, Armando blew out a whisper of a sigh. “Okay, cariño, tell me what our son's name is.”
Estela took a deep breath, eyes glistening with barely contained excitement. “Okay, so… I know you love ‘Antonio’ – and so do I! – so I think we go with that for his first name. But I was thinking… well… I'd like to honour my English heritage as well as my Spanish one, so… what if we gave him an English surname?”
Armando could see the hope and giddy joy in his wife's eyes, yet his brow wrinkled in confusion. “But… our surname is Spanish,” he said slowly. “Well… Italian really, but that's a long story. And your maiden name is Spanish also.”
“Yes,” Estela conceded, with the air of patiently explaining something to a young child, “but I thought it might be nice to nod to my English side. Do you know what the English translation of Primavera is?”
Realisation dawned in Armando's mind, and his face broke into a wide grin. “Spring.”
Estela's answering smile was dazzling. Armando thought she had never looked so beautiful – her mahogany eyes glittering, her olive-toned cheeks flushed rose, her full red lips stretched wide with joy over her perfectly white teeth.
“Antonio Spring,” Estela breathed, and in that moment Armando saw his entire future in her eyes. “What do you think?”
Armando gazed at his beautiful, glowing wife, seeing her hopeful expression and barely contained glee and knew in that moment that he would give her anything her heart desired.
“Antonio Spring,” he repeated, and he found he rather enjoyed the way the name rolled off his tongue. He beamed at Estela. “I love it, mi cielo,” he proclaimed. “It's not the usual way of things, but where's the fun in doing things the usual way, eh?”
Estela squealed happily, squeezing at the cage of Armando's hands with her free one, her face utterly radiant in the glow of the setting sun. “Really, Mandy? We can really do it?”
Heart about to burst with joy, Armando nodded and laughed out, “Sí… yes, corazón. Let's do it. It's perfect, just like you.”
Eyes glistening, Estela leaned in and pressed the softest of kisses to her husband's lips, setting off more butterflies in his chest.
“Te amo tanto,” Armando whispered against his wife's lips.
“I love you more,” Estela tried, but Armando was having none of it.
“Oh, no no no,” he laughed, with a shake of his head. “Not happening, cariño.”
Estela laughed too, this age-old argument between them never failing to amuse her. Her expression shifted, eyes growing hooded, one white tooth catching her plump bottom lip, and she released her husband's hands to trail one forefinger lazily up his thigh.
“Take me to bed, marido,” she purred.
And who could say no to that?