**WARNING**: Minor character death
Five years later...
It was half past three in the morning. The male had been sleeping - tossing and turning really, but he had been laying down just the same. There was no reason for him to be out of bed. There was no reason for a hot cup of caffeinated coffee - black without sugar - to be resting in his hand. Both were true, though, much to Lovino's dismay. A subordinate, a lower level on the grounds of something so trivial, had woken him. Someone on the streets had been asking for him, pleading for him by name. It wasn't entirely uncommon, no, but it did strike the young man as odd. He was no older than twenty-one; his name shouldn't have been well known on the streets; he hadn't allowed that to happen just yet.
Here the uncommon situation arose, and here Lovino was, woken from his restless slumber. He had dressed hastily, careful not to wake his sleeping brother that lay just across the room. Feliciano hadn't taken well to their new life, but he was adjusting. This was the first time the short brunette had slept well without Ludwig in weeks. He was not very keen on waking him. Once dressed in a pinstriped suit and black dress shoes, Lovino swept from the room. He had received coffee from yet another nameless subordinate. He sipped on it casually, attempting to rouse and form of sleep from his system. The harsh, yellow lights in the hallway seemed to help. They were nothing like the soft hues that used to be at home.
Home.
It was Lovino's first Thanksgiving in college. He had gotten accepted to the local university. It was his first time back since he had left, and he missed his wonderful Grandpa and brother so much. They were around the dinner table, laughing, singing, drinking. It was a merry, happy time.
That is until the door came barreling down. Heavy boots thundered into the dining room where they sat. Men in black, rough and tough. Lovino saw their gleaming black guns first. He bit back and shriek and dragged Feliciano to the ground just as the first bullets rang out. He heard Roma's strangled cry. His only thought was to get out, to get Feliciano to safety, find the gun in the safe, and call the cops.
Lovino had never handled a gun before, he had never felt the cool metal in his hands, but upon picking it up, he felt right. He handled the weapon well, shot with such accuracy. He was a natural.
He was so afraid.
The cops came, but the assailants were long gone.
So was Grandpa Roma.
Dead, killed by a shot straight through the heart.
Lovino couldn't help but admit it, but he saw more pain in the eyes of Chief Beilschmidt than Lovino felt inside of him. He had lost so much already. This was just one more event to add to the list.
He had joined it there, the Italian mafia. He stayed in school, but hardly paid attention. He was more focused on getting information, torturing, succeeding... Feliciano was scared, but he had Ludwig every step of the way. The blonde had never wavered, had never left. Lovino on the other hand, was cold and alone in world of the mafia in which he had risen in rank. He was alone in this empty world without color. He was alone in the yellowed halls.
Yellowed halls. Lovino was focused on reality once more. The lights flickered around him, but he didn't mind. He was used to the eerie feeling this stretch of hall gave him. He was used to the light being out over the door at the end of the hall. The male stalked forward, pausing only to let his subordinate open the door. Lovino stepped through the threshold and waited for the door to close behind him. He heard the lock click in place and glanced back to see that same subordinate guarding the door. Lovino noticed he was armed. He then looked towards the center of the room.
In a chair sat what seemed to be a male teenager. Lovino gave him a quick once over noticing he was bruised and bleeding in places. His injuries were minor; they weren't anything he'd die from. His black t-shirt was torn in places, probably from a scuffle with his lower levels that had brought him in. His arms and chest, although scratch and cut, we're toned and tanned. The skin that poked out from the tears in his tight jeans was just as tanned. A black bag covered his head, and Lovino assumed he was gagged; he heard only heavy breathing coming from the boy. His arms were tied behind him and his ankles were bound to the legs of the chair. His chest heaved slightly, but his pitiful state did nothing to sway the male.
Lovino did not recognize the boy.
He gestured lazily for the bag to be removed from the boy's head. He watched with disinterest as a mop of sweaty, soft curls were exposed. He watched as a set of emerald green eyes squinted against the harsh yellow light. He watched as those green eyes found their intended target and flooded with relief. Lovino watched, his disinterest gone. Here he was, in front of him, that perfect bastard. After five years...
Five years ago.
He had been waiting for letters; he had been sending his own through Elizaveta like crazy. Lovino thought he could move on, but after a week of not eating, of sitting in his room in a world of too many shades of grey, he cracked. He had written so many times, but not once had he received a response. He had prayed, but it seemed as though God would not fulfill his prayers. He was so cold, so alone... But he had recovered.
Recovered.
Lovino was quick to hide the pained, surprised look on his face. It was only present for a moment; no more. He was sure, however, that the perceptive bastard had seen something. Lovino managed to play it off.
"Why the hell did you bring me a kid?" he asked, his voice tired and irate. He took another sip of his coffee, his brow wrinkled. Lovino became amused by the boy's expression turned wild and confused. He chuckled slightly and leaned back against the wall.
"He was asking about ya'. Knew ya' specifically by name," said one of his nameless subordinates. "We wasn't sure if he was a threat, so we brought 'im in anyways."
"Was it that important and necessary to wake me up? Couldn't it have waited? You risked waking Feliciano over a damned teenager?" Lovino spat, his voice full of ice and malice. "Did you at least bring me information on him?"
Silence. No one spoke. Of course they hadn't thought to collect background before presenting the boy to Lovino. He took a final sip of his coffee before crushing his cup in his hand. He dropped it to the ground and stepped forward, looking down at the curly haired boy.
"Idioti..." he muttered gently. "Go."
His hand had whipped towards the door. The few people that were in the room filed out quickly, avoiding Lovino's harsh gaze. The door clicked shut behind them and the Italian returned his gaze to the boy.
"Who are you?" he asked gently. Lovino slowly removed his blazer and tossed it on a nearby table. He then rolled up his sleeves, exposing his tattooed forearms. When his caramel eyes caught hold of the boy's own once more, he drew closer, allowing his slender fingers to fist the boy's sweaty curls. He tilted his head back and leaned in close. "Oh, I recognize you. You're the one who left, who didn't write or call or give me the time of day to stop my heartache and sadness. I remember you... Antonio."
The Spaniard's expression fell. It was pained and hurt, but Lovino didn't care. It was time for his pain to be felt. He wanted Antonio to understand the hurt, the despair, the rejection he had endured. Lovino released him, letting his hand fall back gently to his side.
"Grandpa died, you know, a year after you left. The Russians murdered him. I killed one, but the rest got away. You weren't there. I could hardly mourn. I was already numb, and Grandpa's death just added to it. Feli had Ludwig, but I was alone. I was alone, hurting while you were off marrying some beautiful Spanish girl."
Lovino was so bitter, so cold, and his resolve was finally cracking. He felt the tears stinging his eyes. He dashed them away with the back of his palm. He would not show weakness. He would be strong.
"You left me a shell of a person. I haven't spoken to my friends - who am I kidding? I have no friends. Lilly won't even look me in the eye. I can't blame her. Look at me. I'm a monster. But who can I blame if not you? I want to blame you so badly it hurts. I am nothing because of you, and now you have the audacity to come back when I'm finally building myself up. You forced your way into my life. You forced your way out. I should have pushed you away when I had the chance. I was protecting myself, but you came in and wrecked my walls, tore down defenses. I should have been stronger. I shouldn't have let myself get hurt. But what I thought was love blinded me. I felt so fucking good to be loved, and then... I wasn't."
Antonio merely stared at Lovino, his green eyes full of pain and sorrow. He had the most pitiful of expressions and that single expression left Lovino feeling sort of satisfied. He stepped closer, reaching out to the Spaniard once more. He pulled down the tie that lay tight across his mouth, allowing him to speak. He himself stepped back, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His composure was back after his string of rants. He had trained himself to recover. He had trained himself to be strong. He watched Antonio with that cool expression. His soft brown eyes held no warmth. He watched and waited for some sort of speech from the older male.
"I had to force myself not to come back to you..." Antonio whispered, his head bowed. "I had to force myself to stay with my mother and sisters. I had to force myself to meet the girl I was to marry. In those five years, I had never felt so trapped, so imprisoned. I got your every letter, but I couldn't bring myself to reply. I knew I'd be stringing you along. It was okay for me to suffer, to read your pains and woes... because I caused them, but you couldn't suffer anymore."
Lovino could not let his composure crack. He could not start yelling at him. He couldn't tell him how wrong he was. How... "You thought I'd suffer less? Having any sort of connection would have made my world bearable. You were being selfish! You hardly thought of how this would make me feel. You right you were being noble, but that's far from the truth. You hurt me more than I can bear. I don't understand why you came back now! You're married! You ought to have kids by now!"
Lovino hadn't intended on yelling, ranting, or speaking his mind, but it had all come forth after years of repression.
"I never married that girl. I told her I was not in love with her. My mother and grandmother may not have liked it, but Natalie understood. She understood love and she didn't want force in a relationship. She called it off," Antonio muttered, keeping a soft tone. He made an attempt to sit up straighter, but the amount of rope that was wound around his body prevented him. He shook his head in defeat, focusing once more on words. "Yes, I may have been selfish, but Lovino, I never stopped loving you. I came back because in the last five years, I have done nothing but think of you. I never allowed myself to fall victim to depression because I knew you wouldn't want that. Seeing you now means the world to me, but I understand if you no longer love me; if you no longer trust me."
Lovino remained expressionless. He didn't need that bastard reading him through his eyes like he used to. Lovino had perfected masking his emotions in this business of kill or be killed. He hadn't slipped up on a job in over three years. This Spanish bastard was not going to make him do just that. This was a job. This was not a conversation between himself and his former lover. He had already let his emotions run too many times in the last few minutes alone. He needed to keep control. This was an interrogation. Antonio had been brought in for just that. He had been brought to Lovino for two reasons. Antonio had been asking about him for starters. Also, when it came to interrogations and weasel in information out of people, Lovino was the best.
"Let's cut the shit and do what I was called down here for," Lovino grumbled. "Tell me your full name."
"Lovino, you know my-" Antonio started.
"Your name."
"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."
"Why did you come here?"
"Lovino, you know why I'm here!" Antonio shouted, his facial features growing restless.
"No, actually, I don't," he said with an indifferent coolness.
"I came for you, Lovino. I-"
"Why are you here so suddenly after five years have you come to look for me?"
"Why do I need a reason?" the Spaniard shouted.
"Answer the question, Carriedo."
A look of hurt crossed Antonio's face, but Lovino completely ignored it. He was falling back into his typical routine of interrogator. He was at ease suddenly. Antonio was just another face to add to his list.
"I won't answer your questions, Lovino. Not when you can't even look me in the eye," Antonio said darkly.
Lovino stepped towards Antonio and took hold of his sweaty mop of hair once more. He pulled his head back and stood over him with the most careless gaze.
"I'm calling the shots tonight," he said simply, his amber gaze malicious. "Now tell me. Why did you seek me out so suddenly after five years?"
"Is it wrong for me to love you?" he shot, his green eyes hardened.
He was growing defensive like most he had interrogated, but this time... the questions, they were so simple. They had nothing to do with underground politics or betrayal. But this interrogation was so hard. Love, to Lovino, had been the hardest conversation to withstand since that date five years ago. He had pressed through so far, but he could tell Antonio was cracking.
"Yes, quite frankly, after all the shit you put me through, it is," Lovino stated, looking him dead in the eye.
"It wasn't my fault!" he yelled.
"You had the choice to write me, to call, to visit once or twice at least," he said simply. "I would have come to you in an instant."
"Lovino, I would have come, but-"
A loud slap rang out and it was clear Lovino had lost his cool. "Don't lie to me, you bastard!"
Antonio's left cheek was red from where Lovino had slapped him. He didn't look at the Italian. He merely stared off into space. When he slowly turned his head back, Lovino saw tears swimming in his eyes. A gut wrenching feeling hit Lovino in a sickening wave. His amber eyes grew wide as he looked upon the Spaniard. He had just struck Antonio, brought tears to his eyes. This wasn't like all those years ago when he had punched him out of spite and irritation. This time Lovino had meant to cause pain, had meant to hurt him. The feeling that had fallen over him was horrible. The look on Antonio's screwed made him want to cry, want to hold him.
There was no thought in Lovino's decision. Lovino flung himself around Antonio's, burying his head in the Spaniard's neck.
"I'm sorry," Lovino whispered, tears stinging his own eyes. "I'm so, so sorry..."
Antonio was quiet for a moment before Lovino heard the sobs. The Spaniard was crying. His chest heaved with each shuddered breath. Lovino had never heard Antonio cry; he had never seen it. To him, this was entirely new. To him, it made everything that had happened over the last five years completely vanish. It was as if Antonio had never left.
The Italian held the sobbing male for a few moments longer before he slowly removed the ropes around each of his ankles, his chest, and his wrists. Antonio slumped in the chair, refusing to look at Lovino. His body still shook slightly from an occasional stiff breath, but otherwise he seemed quiet.
Antonio had never seen Antonio so lost, so broken, and it was his fault; he had pushed him; he had shoved him away. Lovino didn't know what to do. It was so strange to have to care for once. Over the last four years, love had been near non-existent where Feliciano wasn't concerned. But Antonio was back. He had to learn to love again. He didn't know how. He didn't understand how after five years of feeling rejected. His only option was to try.
"You don't want me here, do you?" Antonio asked, his resolve and will shattered.
Lovino looked directly at the Spaniard, his amber eyes wavering. "I'm not sure... I don't know what I want. The first year I would have given anything to have you back, but after Grandpa died, I learned life was a bitch, and sometimes you didn't have the chance to exchange goodbyes. I'm not sure whether or not our goodbyes were meant to be permanent..." Lovino whispered, his eyes shifting gradually to the floor. When he looked at Antonio again, the Spaniard was looking up, his green eyes tinged an irritated pink. "I don't want them to be permanent... You are not going to walk out that door and never come back, Antonio. It will not happen. I will learn to love you again. I promise."
Antonio had a hopeful expression. He slipped from his chair slowly and fell to his knees. He knelt in front of Lovino, his head bowed. He looked so submissive.
"Toni, what are you doing?" Lovino asked slowly, his voice strained. He couldn't help but feel turned on by the Spaniard's actions. This was his ex. He a shouldn't think of him in a such a way, but he couldn't help it. "Antonio, look at me."
The male's head shot up and he struck Lovino with a burning stare.
Oh God, Antonio was doing this... he was offering himself up. Holy hell. Lovino could not comprehend or think. Why was Antonio suddenly like this.
"What are you doing? I was never... I can't..." he stammered, taking a step back. "I'm not the dominant one!"
Antonio smirked slightly through his submissive gaze. "No, you never were..." he said softly. "And you still aren't now."
Antonio claimed the moment as his. While Lovino was off of his guard, he pounced. The Italian lay on his back, his amber eyes wide. Antonio had tackled him in a single graceful move. He now was above Lovino. His muscles showed through the tears in his clothes, and he was dusted in a thin layer of sweat. His curly hair hang in front of his eyes, sticking to his forehead slightly. Antonio's tanned hands pinned Lovino's wrists above him while he sat on his belly.
"I'd like to recall that this situation is vaguely familiar," the Spaniard whispered in a triumphant tone.
"You're a bastard," Lovino spat. Antonio had recovered so quickly - too quickly. It irritated the younger of the two far too much. "Quit looking so smug and get off of me."
"I don't think I will," Antonio said softly. "Sitting in that chair for so long gave me ideas that I'd like to try. Not now, of course, but telling you now would be just as fun."
"Antonio's voice seemed so mischievous and arousing. Why had it already affected him. Why had it already made him melt? He was supposed to be angry with the bastard. He had left Lovino alone. He was not supposed to want to screw him.
"What could you possibly think of bound to a chair?" Lovino stammered.
"That's exactly it. Binding. I'd love to do that to you myself this time," Antonio mumbled against Lovino's ear.
The Italian gasped slightly and squirmed. The yellow light only managed to illuminate his now flushed cheeks.
"Why didn't you take advantage of that situation back in that closet?" he asked, keeping a bit of bite to his words.
"You were drunk and innocent Lovino," he whispered. "You were jailbait then, too. Even if I wanted to, it would have been cruel to take your virginity... but now... I can bind you myself and make you mine."
Lovino felt a familiar, uncomfortable swelling beneath his belt. He hadn't felt something like that in years. Oh God, why now?
"Get off of me, you bastard," Lovino hissed. Nothing could happen here in this room. If anyone walked in, they'd kill Antonio immediately. He was on top of Lovino, pinning him. They'd instantly think foul play. "Get off before someone comes in and shoot you."
The Spaniard watched Lovino warily before slowly climbing to his feet. He held out a hand to Lovino who reluctantly took it. The Italian pulled himself upright, but did not release Antonio's hand. Instead he gripped it tighter and twisted his arm behind his back. Lovino smirked at the ease he had. Antonio was the one caught off guard this time.
"Don't struggle. This is just for the people waiting outside the door. I'm not going to bother to explain to them that one of the most cold, cool, and collective people of our select group is gay. I'll get so much shit about being incompetent, it is ridiculous," Lovino muttered.
Since high school, acceptance of gas had become better, but in the Italian mafia, men were tough. They didn't date other men. The had hot girlfriends. They had rough sex and laughed with each other about it. Elizaveta had gladly agreed to be his scapegoat for these conversations. She may not have been the ideal to his friend, but she worked alongside Lovino in the mafia. She helped take care of Feliciano when Ludwig was off on a job. He and Feli were informants for the mafia.
Now that Lovino thought of it most of the mafia wasn't Italian. There were a few subordinates that were, but most of the higher ups were from other nations. Francis was the top dog. He ran the business, made deals, and planned. If there were problems, people answered to him. Other leaders answered to him. Mathew was in charge of the money. He handled the bank account and the ledgers. Gilbert and Alfred were the muscle along with the very provocative Ludwig - he had that fearsome look about him that made people spill their guts; that was why he was also an informant. Arthur supplied alcohol to the group and made alternative, legal business; there was no surprise there. Roderich was their diplomatic mole. He had gotten a government job that allowed him to get the mafia out of tough situations, allowed him to avoid trouble for them. Feliciano was another informant. No one suspected him because of his blatant innocence. Vash Zwingli was another interesting piece to the puzzle. Lilly's older brother had become the assassin. He was short, yes, but his shot was damn near amazing. He was stealthy. Lovino had become Francis's right hand man. He was an interrogator, an infiltrator, and occasionally he stooped to kidnap and torture; that was only when it was entirely necessary.
Now that Lovino thought of it, pretty much everyone that was important and essential was gay. Francis, like the bastard that he was, flounced it openly; he didn't care who knew about his sexuality. Everyone else hid it easily and gladly. Why, he didn't entirely understand. It could have been to remain professional in the workplace, or it could have been to keep the trust of the employees. There was really no definite answer without asking them personally. He knew, however, why these people had joined him in his fight against the Russians.
Ivan Braginski had taken everything. Francis had lost more money than he wished to count. Mathew lost a stuffed bear named Kumajiro. Roderich had nearly lost his job and much of his dignity because of a supposed rape scandal. Alfred lost one of the biggest poker games of his existence; he was stuck with a few broken bones after the fight that followed his defeat. Arthur had a shipment of expensive, legal alcohol stolen from his ship at the local seaport. The Beilschmidts, like the Vargases, had lost their grandfather to the Russian's goons. Vash, however, had the worst of it all. He lost something - someone - that he and Lovino desperately wished to get back. They feared they never would.
Lilly.
Ivan had tainted her mind, turned her against them. Lilly hadn't looked Lovino in the eyes in years. It wasn't because of who he had become, who he had turned out to be after Roma died. It was because she had befriended the Russian. He had said something to her, done something to turn her. That was a goal in this little legion of banded nations. Get the young, sixteen-year-old girl away from the monster's influence. The other goal was to bring down the Russian mafia. Ivan, too, had recruited a decent army of foreigners over the years. The boys from the Baltic States, Raivis, Toris, and Eduard were under their mother's influence for sure. Raivis was an amazing public speaker while Toris had become a leading researcher that was able to get dirt on anybody. Eduard was a top notch, world-class hacker. And then there was the blonde pole, Feliks. He was just a tad of a ditz. He had no place working with the Russian aside from his protection. He was a convenient tool to them, though. He got coffee and food while other were too lazy to go out. Finally, there was Yao Wang, a Chinese man with long black hair and skill that could kill. He seemed tired, but Lovino could assume he was. He had been a part of the Chinese black market for years. He was also the lover of Ivan. How that man had survived, Lovino did not know.
Honestly, Lovino did not know a lot of things. He had been saying just that to Francis and Gilbert just days earlier. He was drunk, which wasn't surprising. Lovino liked to drink at this time of year. It was May. It was when he had his yearly relapse. He had told them bother that he was unsure with life, with going on. They must have thought he was going to attempt to kill himself yet again, but then again, they had heard that conversation time and time again over the last three years since he had joined the mafia. That night he had said something over not believing in love, which in Francis's book, was a huge no no. He had said that if Antonio loved him, he would have come to him, looking as if he face a war. There had to be some pretty tough shit keeping them apart, he had said. He had wanted Antonio to come back ready to beg for forgiveness, to explain what the hell he thought he was doing.
And he had gotten just that.
"Those sly fucking bastards," Lovino muttered, taking hold of Antonio's other wrist. He picked up a roll of duct tape from the table at the center of the room and started wrapping it around his hands. He had cuffs in his pocket but he was currently too mentally preoccupied to care. "They called and asked for you to come, didn't they?"
Antonio looked back at him, his face flushed slightly. "Guilty. They pretty much demanded for me to come. They were pretty convincing."
Lovino blinked in disbelief before he exploded. "You came when they told you to, but I write you hundreds of letters to tell you to come back, and you ignore me?" Lovino shouted, pushing Antonio on the back. The male stumbled slightly, but did not fall. He tossed the duct tape down in a fit of rage; he had already bound Antonio's hands entirely. "You complete ass, Antonio Carriedo! God, I couldn't remember how much you pissed me off, but it's all rushing back!"
"I seem to remember you melting for me several times. Even a few moments ago you seemed to be writhing," he mumbled.
Lovino ripped off one of his shoes and chucked it at the Spaniard. He was unable to block, so the black leather shoe hit him square on the chest. "You're a bastard! A mother-fucking bastard! What makes you think I want you back now? What the fuck!"
"Well, Gil and Francis did send me an interesting video when you were drunk. And then there was the heart-warming instance only a few moments ago. Throwing shoes in rage is also an embarrassed yet good sign."
"Oh, hell no! Those mother fucking bastards recorded me when I was drunk?" he roared. "Why the hell would that make you want to come back?"
"I had to protect you! They threatened to have Heracles come over to seduce you," he whined. "Now, Lovi-"
"Lovino."
"Lovino. Don't get me wrong, I didn't think you'd do it, but Heracles... he may be head over heels for Kiku and a total stoner, but he would never miss the opportunity to get back at me for walking in and ruining their first time having sex junior year..."
"You came because you thought I'd bang your old friend from high school?" he screamed.
"What can I say? I'm territorial."
"Territorial? Don't get me started on territorial..." he warned. "I'm going to kill those two bastards.
Lovino strode for the door and turned the cool metal handle in his hand. The door opened inward and what was on standing on the other side only fueled his rage. Gilbert and Francis had been standing there, listening to the two of them talk. They were eavesdropping. He should have expected as much. Lovino grabbed them both by the ears and dragged them into the room with a surprising force. They whimpered, whined, and cursed, but the Italian did not relinquish his hold until the door was shut.
"You two... I may just fucking murder you!" he yelled, ripping off another one of his shoes. He chucked it at Francis, but he managed to block it with his arms. "You woke me up in the middle of the night, you beat the living shit out of Antonio before I could, and you threatened to have Heracles fuck me! Are you fucking insane?"
"Well, at first, we weren't insane..." Francis muttered. "We never intended for you to find out about that little threat, thank you Antonio."
"So you're fucking insane! Francis, I was hired by you to interrogate, to dig out information. You are a complete dunce for thinking you could hide the fact that you stole my stash of chocolates let alone hide any information from me."
Francis cursed under his breath, scratching the back of his head. "Mon amie, don't think about that right now. You have Antonio back finally. Also, for the record, I did not eat your chocolate. I merely swiped it from your room. Gilbert ate them."
Gilbert was quick to punch Francis. "Hey, he's more mad at you for once. You leave the fuck out of this, bitch."
Lovino rolled his eyes and grabbed Antonio by the collar of his shirt. "Let's go. I'm don't with these two. Francis, Gilbert, you bother me at all for the rest of the night, I will not hesitate to stab you. I am deadly serious." Before leaving, the Italian held their gaze in his own. He had every intention to scare the daylights out of them, and by the look of Francis's wide eyes, he had succeeded.
Lovino did not lead Antonio back to the room he shared with Feliciano. Instead, he led him to his office. They passed a few men speaking rapid Italian, but Lovino ignored them. He heard them mention Antonio, a prisoner, lamely before they moved onto a game that had happened the night before. Lovino so his head. They could say what they wanted for now, but soon rules would be set. There was no doubt about that. Lovino was also very damn sure that he'd have to come out of the closet because of the bastard. That wouldn't matter so long as he didn't leave again.
Once outside of his office, Lovino opened the door with a key that only he had. He flipped on the dull, yellow lights and pushed Antonio inside. All he wanted was to get back to bed, but with the state that this bastard was in, that was impossible. First he had to deal with the wounds that littered his body. Francis, Gilbert, and their goons had done quite a number on him. Wherever there was a rip in his clothing, a cut had been made. There was a gash on his cheek, and bruises covered a good amount of his bare arms.
Lovino clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "How the hell did they manage to do this to you?" he asked, a tone of disbelief in his voice.
"Well, I was walking home from the airport towards your house, cause I figured you'd be there. I got no more than a mile from the airport when they jumped me. Gil got me square in the balls... I'll be blue there, and I swear if I am, I'll kill the kraut," Antonio muttered bitterly. "How could I think that they'd let me off so easily? I left them, too, you know. They were pissed. Francis came to Spain, pounding on my door, but Abuela sent him away, saying I was with my 'lady friend' as she called her."
Lovino snorted slightly. Of course they'd jump him. Lovino would have, too, if he had seen the curly haired bastard sauntering down the street. The Italian shook his head and led Antonio through his office towards his little bathroom. Because he had pulled some strings with Francis, he had gotten one of the better offices all to himself. He rarely came in here other than to seek solitude. He had spent quite a few hours in here, cooling down after a particularly gruesome interrogation. He didn't want to think of that now, though.
"Strip down. We need to get you washed up..." he muttered.
The Spaniard offered Lovino his taped hands after a moment of awkward silence. He had forgotten entirely to remove the crudely wrapped bindings. Lovino pulled a knife from his pocket and sliced the grey substance, careful not to hurt the man in front of him. Antonio pulled his torn shirt from his frame to reveal his toned and bruised back. He was littered with them, but they weren't nearly as bad as Lovino had been during his sophomore year. He had minor bruises that didn't seem to affect his at all. The cuts were what Lovino was worried about.
From his medicine cabinet, he pulled a bottle of rubbing alcohol, Neosporin, gauze, medical tape; he kept these things for the occasions he found himself beaten and bruised. He set them down on the back of the toilet.
"You might as well shower," he said simply. "But don't take two years. I want to go back to bed."
The Spaniard said nothing. He seemed just as tired as Lovino felt. The night had been full of rushes, but the adrenaline had long since passed. Lovino left the room to allow Antonio to shower. He had no intentions of watching him undress further. He feared if that happened, they'd never get past turning on the water. Lovino instead went and grabbed a bottle of wine from the little fridge that was behind his desk. He took a single wine glass from the top of the fridge and filled it halfway. He needed the alcohol in his system at this point He was still trying to grasp the fact that his once beloved bastard was back. Before he knew it, his glass was nearly empty. He could have sworn that it had only been a moment. He did not refill it. He did not want his better judgment to be clouded.
The water shut off in the bathroom and Lovino reentered. Antonio had already stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He had shaken out his hair so that his curls had started to form rather than plaster themselves against his head. He looked like a dream; this, however, was no dream.
"C'mere... Let's get your wounds dressed..." Lovino muttered, picking up the rubbing alcohol.
He was quick about dressing the Spaniard's wounds. He was used to doing this. He had become a nurse to Feli and Ludwig on the occasions that they had come home banged up. He poured the rubbing alcohol over the tanned skin of his arm and wiped the excess away with a towel. He felt Antnio flinch, but the male did not say a word. He took the pain with ease. He then spread on the warm Neosporin with his fingertips. He bandaged it up with that same ease he had had before. He didn't hesitate to admire Antonio before he dressed his other woulds. He was far too tired. He also did not want to see the man's bare skin any more than he had to. Once Antonio was all patched up, he brought him back into the main part of the office.
"You can stay in here for tonight, Antonio. No one has a key aside from me, so you won't be disturbed. Sleep on the couch over there," he said, pointing lamely at the futon in the corner. He walked slowly towards the door, rubbing his eyes. "Goodnight."
"Lovino, wait," Antonio called just as he reached for the doorknob. The Italian looked back at him with his tired amber eyes. "Stay with me tonight."
It wasn't a question; it was a demand. He hesitated, watching for a moment. Should he stay and give into their selfish demands or should he go and spend his night alone. Lovino pursed his lips and reluctantly nodded. He didn't admit to himself that he had been silently hoping Antonio would as him.
"I don't sleep with clothes on anymore. Just letting you know," Lovino muttered, removing his dress shirt. Next went the white tank top and dress pants. He removed his socks and them his boxers before shutting off the lights. He climbed onto the futon, and Antonio lay down right behind him.
Antonio was warm, comforting. It felt like home. It had been so long since he had had that comfort. In that moment, for the first time in five years as dawn crept up on them, he slept well. He was merely wrapped in the arms of an infuriating bastard, snuggled beneath a warm blanket. The world may have been shit around Lovino and he may have lost friends and family, but having Antonio back brought light. His world was slowly rebuilding all because he had allowed himself to love once again.
HOLY FUCK. I enjoyed writing that chapter. I felt as though I was making Lovino a pitiful little shit, so turning him into a bad ass Mafia guy... That made me want to binge write. I have been pulling out sheets of paper during my classes, writing in my curly handwriting and my lucky black pen. I think I went through ten to fifteen sheets in all. I got this chapter done way faster. I had it planned out, though. The next chapter I have NO IDEA. PROVIDE SOME PLEASE. Otherwise it will be another five weeks to three months before I post again. Thank you for reading and all that jazz. Thank yaa :'D Have a great day and comment. Byee~