Valentino

epilogo

A thump, a yelp, and laughing.

"Giulietta, get back here!" Is screamed throughout the household. Said girl cracks up more and darts behind a wall.

A tall man with curly hair and honey doe eyes walks to his lover on the floor. "Rough one, isn't she 'Beto?" He asks. Alberto groans, "You have no idea."

"Giulietta Francesca Valentino, get your feet over here this instant!" Luca calls out into the hall. Giulietta sheepfully trots to stand in front of her Papa. She looks at her painted toes and huffs.

Luca squats in front of his daughter and looks at her hanging head. "Look me in the eye..." Luca commanded softly, drawing out the vowels.
Giulia looks up with a pout.
"You know I love you, right?" Luca said, smiling and ruffling her hair. Giulia smiles and speaks, "I know..."

Luca happily sighs. "Good, now what is your Papa yelling at you for?" He asks. Giulia shrugs. "We were in the middle of playing tag and he fell!" Alberto playfully scoffs.

"Cheeky liar! I'm trying to put her shoes on so she can go play calcio with her brothers!" Alberto laughs. "One minute she's kicking her legs excitedly, and the next she's running around the house!" Giulia smiles big and giggles.

Luca sighed. "Alberto, please stop yelling, it hurts my ears. And Giulia, put on your shoes you silly girl." Giulia giggled back in her room to put on her shoes. Alberto pats Luca's shoulder and goes to the living room to throw himself on the couch. Luca walks to the kitchen, where Pierre is leaning against the cupboards reading the news.
"Ciao, amore mio." Luca purrs, sliding himself on Pierre's shoulder. "Bonjour." Pierre smiles back. They kiss and Luca turns to the cabinets and gets out flour for breakfast.

"Pancakes?" Pierre asks, sliding his arms around Luca's waist and hugging him once his lover gets prepared. "No, biscuits."
Pierre gives a little 'ah' and rests his head on Luca's shoulder. Luca presses back into Pierre and moves his hips.

"So early in the morning! Did Alberto not satisfy you last night?" Pierre laughed. Luca giggled and continued making the biscuits, every so often rubbing his hips against Pierre.
Pierre left Luca and walked into the kids' bedroom. "Rome! Olive! Wake up you two!" He encouraged the kids.
Rome skipped over to his Pedrino. "Buongiorno, Pedrino!" Rome practically shouts at Pierre. Pierre laughs and walks over to Olive's bed, shaking him slightly.

"Awake, young one. We have a big day ahead of us." Pierre cooed. Luca stomped in the room and picked up Olive by his feet.
"AH! MAMA! STOP!" Olive screeched, his thin body wavering at Luca's grip. "Haha! Olive you're in for a hell of a day if you have that attitude!" Luca roared. "Now go get in the shower, you stink from last night." Luca said, laying his baby boy back on his bed. Olive huffed and crossed his arms.
"I'm ten! You don't have to baby me around anymore!" Olive cried.

"Nuh-uh. Not before we get in the shower, Cinnamon." Alberto slid next to Luca.
"Oh yeah?" Luca said, pressing his back into Alberto's chest.

"Hell yeah, get over here." Alberto ordered, grabbing onto Luca's ass.

Luca squeaked and turned around to his husband. "Unfortunately, I have to make breakfast. Shoo." Luca said, swaying his hips as he exited. Alberto sighed and dragged Olive off of his bed by his legs.
"C'mon minnow, we gotta get your shoes on for calcio." Alberto smiled at his son. "Papa..." Olive cried. Alberto let him go and Olive plopped on the floor with a thud.

"Papa, can I go to Marco's? I promised to help him get a date with Sofia." Rome asked his father, pulling on his shorts. Alberto turned around and looked at his tall son.
"Sure, you're thirteen now." Alberto spun to the kitchen. "Babe! Rome's going to Marco's, okay?" He called out.
"What?! Why?" Luca screeched from the kitchen. "Remember when I hung out with Angelo all the time around '68?" Alberto called. "Hmm, okay." Luca replied.

Rome fist-pumped into the air and took off out of the crowded room. Alberto chuckled and looked back at Olive. "Phew! You do stink! Get in the shower, sciocco." Alberto mocked, wafting at his nose. He threw his pointing finger towards the door and watched Olive trudge to the hall.