Afternoon light was cruel. The way the sun was angled in the sky made for the worst glares. The light that shone through the windows was blinding, especially when it fell down upon closed eyes. Lovino hadn't thought to shut the blinds the night previous. He hadn't slept on the futon in his office in so long, the idea hadn't occurred to him. He had only thought of sleep. He was too focused on the Spaniard that lay down right beside him.
This was the first time Lovino had woken with ease beside him. The first time, he had been rudely awoken and pinned to the floor by a very aroused version of his former boyfriend. The second time he had been alone. This waking moment was calm, just as his desired. He had drifted into consciousness slowly, warm but not sweaty, drowsy but not groggy. He smiled softly to himself and turned his body to face Antonio. His cheek was covered by a while bandage that had little dots of blood seeping through. His eyes were closed in a light peaceful sort of way. His chest rose and fell slowly and melodiously. He was in a deep sleep that Lovino did not want to wake him from. This moment was too peaceful to end so soon.
The Spaniard woke an eternity later. Lovino had been drifting in and out of sleep, too drowsy to notice the set of green eyes watching him. When he finally managed to come around to see that set of eyes, Lovino snuggled closer. A smile formed on Antonio's lips. It was a gentle, gorgeous smile that warmed Lovino from the inside out.
"Good morning," Antonio said softly, snuggling in closer to Lovino.
"Morning," Lovino whispered, blinking once or twice to clear any lingering sleep from his eyes.
"Can we sit here all day?" he asked gently.
Lovino raised a single brow and checked the time on his iPhone. "It's two in the afternoon. I have work to do. No. As much as I would love to, we cannot stay here all day."
A pout formed on Antonio's lips and he opened his mouth to protest. Lovino shot him a look as if to quiet him. Instead the Spaniard smoothly transformed his complaint into a question. "What do you even do?"
"Exactly what I said last night. I interrogate to get information. Sometimes it gets rough, but I try not to let it..." he said softly, bitterly.
"Oh..." Antonio mumbled. "You've changed a lot, Lovi..." He paused and smiled. "I'm sorry; Lovino."
The Italian closed his eyes and shook his head. "I know I have, and I've come to blame the Russian. He killed Grandpa for reasons, after four long years, I still don't understand. I became bitter after you left, but Grandpa's death really set me off. They killed Chief Beilschmidt, too. Shot him inside of the local grocery store. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I would have called it a coincidence. Wang killed him for sure. I have no doubt in my mind it was him, with that long black hair. I want him dead, Antonio. I want the Russians dead. I want them to pay for Feliciano's tears; he shed too many for Grandpa and Aldrich. They will pay, and I will make sure of it."
Antonio's held an expression that was unreadable, and Lovino worried that he had said something horrible wrong. After a few moments, however, he spoke.
"I don't blame you, necessarily, Lovino," he spoke. Antonio looked as if he were struggling to find the right words; it was odd for the man that usually held the answers. "I just worry that you will lose yourself. When I found you, you were a sad lost puppy. That puppy has grown up into a full-grown hound. I knew you couldn't remain blissfully innocent forever, but you can't allow yourself to turn rabid. Don't go down a one-way road you'll never recover from. Don't take a nosedive down to Hell because you are so keen on revenge."
Lovino batted his eyelids and nodded. Antonio truly cared which meant a lot for him. He understood what he was trying to prevent entirely, but he had no intentions of following the advice that was provided to him. Lovino was going to get his revenge no matter what the cost. If that meant falling into a pit of no return, he'd do it.
The Italian climbed out of bed slowly, and headed towards the bathroom. He held no shame in walking around nude. He had done it many times before, so what made this time different? Why should his short but muscular and toned body fluster him? He slipped into the bathroom, flipped on the lights and turned on the hot water. He stepped under the showerhead and let the liquid pour over him. The water was icy at first; it washed away any sleep that still clogged his mind. It gradually turned into a blistering head that felt amazing on his skin. He stood under the water, his brown eyes closed.
Lovino felt relaxed.
Showers allowed him to think, to reminisce. He seemed to always dread them, but today he craved it. It had been years since he had taken his time in the shower, taken his time in anything he had done during his sophomore year in high school. Everything he did reminded him of Antonio. Showers invoked memories of New Year's; that morning they had spent together under the showerhead. It was glued to his memory each time he had let the water fall upon him. He no longer had that memory lingering over his head. Antonio was right outside, waiting for him. There were many times over the years he had dreamt of Antonio, laying next to him, only to find when he woke that the bed beside him was cold and empty. He had given into that warmth as soon as it was available to him again.
Antonio had never truly left his mind. He always wondered where he was, what he was doing, how he had been. The questions, of course always remained unanswered. He lived each day the best he could, though. By the look of Antonio, he had kept in shape. He had eaten. He didn't throw himself into a depression. Lovino was glad he had done exactly the same. Each day, when he was sure the pain could get no worse - although it had managed to later - he kept his head high. He hadn't let himself fall towards anorexia or bulimia or any other eating disorder. He hadn't cut or maimed or injured himself. He remained normal.
Having Antonio back now was going to be both a blessing and a curse for Lovino. He had him back, the only person he had ever loved. Also, if Feliciano wasn't enough, he had another person to look out for. He was sure Antonio knew how to fire a gun after five years of training to be a man in Spain. Hell, Feliciano had a crack shot when he was unflustered and concentrated. Lovino could manage anywhere at anytime. It wasn't him he was worried about in a bad situation. Feliciano could handle himself so long as no one was hurt and no one was at risk of getting hurt. Antonio... Lovino had never seen him under that sort of stress. In Lovino's position, Antonio could only get hurt, or even worse, killed. Lovino worried that he'd never be able to protect him. He was the only man Lovino had ever loved, and he was afraid of being unable to save him...
It was his biggest, most surreal fear.
This wasn't a game. He wasn't sixteen anymore. A relationship with Antonio could either make life worth living or destroy everything he had worked for. If Antonio was a lousy shot and Lovino couldn't protect him, he'd be dead. He could never risk that.
He sat under the showerhead, the water blinding him as it poured down over his eyes. He couldn't continue to beat himself up and destroy himself. It would be torture. That situation would never happen. He would never let Antonio go on any sort of job with or without him. He didn't need to worry. Lovino felt for the handles to turn off the showerhead and stood still for a moment while water ran down his nude frame. He had washed away his drowsiness and replaced it with so many emotions he did not want running through his skull. A sigh escaped his lips and he grabbed a fresh towel from the linen rack and wrapped it around his waist.
Lovino left the bathroom, a yawn stretching across his lips. Antonio was still in bed, playing on Lovino's smart phone. How he had gotten it, Lovino did not know. How he had gotten through his passcode was also a mystery. The Spaniard did not look up at him. He merely kept playing whatever game he had up. Was it Angry Birds? Lovino could have sworn he deleted it when the binge down three years ago.
"How the hell did you get on my phone?" Lovino asked curiously, his tone accusing.
"Lovino, your passcode was simple. 5684. Lovi in numbers," he said with boredom. "You never changed it."
"So..." he mumbled, his eyes averting. "Old habits die hard, okay?"
"I can tell. You still don't dry out your hair after you shower, and you don't bring clothes with you, either."
"Why don't you analyze my entire life while you're at it," he retorted, self consciously brushing back his sopping hair. "Besides, it's my office. I do what I want."
"Of course you do, Lovino, of course you do..." Antonio muttered, shooting a little pig across the screen. He was entirely distracted.
Lovino dried down his body with his back to Antonio before pulling on his wrinkled black dress pants. He didn't bother to pull on his boxers from the day previous. He left his dress shirt in a head with the rest of his clothes. He didn't need shoes, socks, and a shirt. He was used to walking around without them.
"Get some pants on, Antonio. We need to get going. I have a job to do tonight," he stated, snatching back his phone. He started towards the door, leaving his discarded clothes behind; he could clean later. He waited patiently while Antonio dressed. He didn't mind too terribly watching him. He was toned, tanned, and in shape, much like Lovino had become. Months of working out to rid him of anger had helped immensely. Neither of them had let themselves go. He couldn't get past the bruising and scratches though. He'd have to murder two thirds of the Bad-Touch Trio when he had the chance. Antonio did not need the lacerations on his skin, on his perfect form.
Antonio slipped on his converse and followed Lovino out of the door. He seemed rather tense walking behind Lovino. The Italian assumed it was because of all of the glares he was receiving from various members of the mafia. He wouldn't have been surprised either. He and Antonio had just exited his office. Neither of them were wearing shirts, and Antonio had a head of 'just been fucked' hair. Lovino guessed that was exactly what they were thinking, that Lovino had banged Antonio and cheated on Elizaveta.
Lovino brought Antonio to his bedroom to avoid the glares and to find some clothes. Antonio was taller than Lovino, but Ludwig had to have something clean in Feliciano's closet... And much to Lovino's chagrin, his brother and his German boyfriend were in the room lips locked and fingers entwined in hair. It was not a welcome sight. This was his little brother... his Fratello. Why the hell they were sucking face in their shared bedroom?
"Ludwig, I'm damned sure you have your own room, so why are you sitting in mine swapping spit with Feliciano? You're taking advantage of him in my room? Go try your German dungeon porn somewhere else," he stated, his hands on his hips. "Yes, I know you're embarrassed, just give me something for this fuck to wear." Lovino grabbed Antonio by the scruff of the neck and pushed him into his bedroom. "Gilbert and Francis beat the shit out of him before dropping him on my lap. Where his shit he brought back from Spain went, I have no clue. Francis has it most likely, the fuck."
Ludwig and Feliciano stared at Antonio for a moment. Antonio grinned sheepishly, and Feliciano's embarrassed and startled look turned into a smile. He stood and threw his arms around Antonio, enclosing him into a death grip.
"Antonio! You're back! You can't leave again! You have to promise me. Lovino was so sad and bitter and he wouldn't even eat the pasta I made to cheer him up. So you can't leave again. If you do, I will personally hunt you down and have Ludwig beat the crap out of you. But don't think about that now. I just need you to be happy and to love each other."
Lovino stared at Feliciano for a moment before shaking his head. "Ludwig, do you at least have a shirt for him? He's too pudgy for my clothes, and I don't want him stretching anything out beyond repair."
"I am not pudgy."
"Shut up."
Ludwig shot them both an exasperated look and muttered something about an old married couple under his breath before turning to the closet. He fished out one of his old t-shirts from Feli's closet - Lovino made note to move out of the shared room later seeing as how Ludwig was already moving in. The German tossed the shirt to Antonio. He put it on immediately as if to cover his so-called pudginess. He then looked down. Lovino eyes followed his. Why the image printed on the fabric didn't surprise him was no mystery. It was a potato. German potato bastards. Go figure.
"You two go suck face somewhere else..." Lovino muttered, pushing his brother and the blond from the room. He shut the door behind them and stalked towards his own closet. He needed something comfortable. He was sick of being so damned formal.
Lovino pulled out a pair of blue jeans, a purple t-shirt, and a pair of vans. It had been a while since he had decided to dress so casually. He was starting to feel like a teenager again. He walked to his dresser and pulled out a pair of fresh boxers. He dropped his dress pants to the floor and they fell easily. Lovino stepped out of them, pulling his boxers on with a sort of ease and grace. He then pulled on his jeans. They fit snugly just below his hips. They didn't sag in a trashy way. Lovino could almost call himself sexy. Almost. He brushed back his hair as if he were slicking it back with gel. Like always, it split down the middle, falling into wet waves. That same curl that never seemed to lie flat stood up like it always seemed to.
Lovino lifted his shirt as if to put it on when he was interrupted by a set of strong arms circling around his waist. Antonio's chest felt warm against his back. He smiled gently. "Toni..." he drawled "You can't do this right now, right here... I just kicked Feli out because he was screwing around. I'm not a hypocrite.
Antonio giggled softly. "I'm sure you know the ins and outs of this place. So why don't you find a better place?" he whispered suggestively, waggling his eyebrows up and down. "Come on Lovino, I know you miss it as much as I do."
Lovino's face went from pale to crimson in a heartbeat. His emotions went from zero to a eighty in that same instant. Why was this bastard the one person that could make him tick, make his emotions go on the overload. Lovino turned to face him and wrapped his arms around his neck.
"The only places are here, my office, and the storage closet across the building where everyone from high school likes to screw around. I'm pretty sure it's got a fireplace, a chest of wine, and olive oil somewhere. Maybe a bed..." he muttered absently, his gaze averted. He then looked up towards Antonio's mischievous green eyes. "No! No, I'm not telling you where it is, you bastard!"
Antonio put on a false pout. "But Lovino..." he murmured into the Italian's ear. "There's things I want to see and try."
Lovino's cheeks burned brighter, and his hid his face in the crook of Antonio's chest. "You're an embarrassing fuck, you know that?"
Antonio nodded, a playful smile plastered to his lips. "I take pride in making you blush, smile, and laugh," he stated, tilting Lovino's head upward towards him. "So don't hide your face from me, never hide your eyes."
Lovino wrinkled his nose and pushed Antonio away. He needed to retreat from his probing, insistent gaze. If he stared too long, he was sure he'd fall victim and do whatever that gaze wanted.
"You're lucky I'm not holding a fucking grudge, bastard," he spat, tugging his purple shirt over his head. He slipped on his vans with little difficulty and grabbed the Spaniard's hand.
He was out of his damned mind. Why was he giving in so easily? Why was he allowing Antonio to persuade him into going to a closet that was used by the sex-crazed fools of the mafia? Honestly, now that Lovino thought about it, the set up inside was probably put up by the naïve Feliciano. It sounded to Lovino like his brother's idea for a romantic night. The room was nestled in the far corner of the building on the second floor. Feliciano had probably hoped no one would find it, and he and Ludwig would have paradise whenever they wished. He hoped to God they weren't there now.
By the time they were halfway to the closet, Lovino started to feel his erections growing. Why was he getting so turned on by this? Lovino could change in front of him and sleep with him baked, but the mere thought of sex drove his emotions and hormones wild. The bastard couldn't do this - well, he could, but he shouldn't. He was fucking giggling, too! He was far too amused by how flustered Lovino had become over the course of a few minutes.
They reached the door, and much to Lovino's mental chagrin and physical pleasure, the door was unlocked. Antonio took the initiative and turned the handle. A wave of relief passed over Lovino; the room was empty. Antonio nudged him gently and he stepped in, the door shutting behind them. The rumors were true, he learned after only a few moments of observation. Nestled in the back of the small room was a fireplace, a rack of French wine - he assumed it was Francis's doing, - and a bottle of olive oil. On the floor, there was even a mattress, pillows and a pile of folded, clean blankets stacked on top. Whomever had been in there last had cleaned up after themselves.
Antonio came up behind Lovino and wrapped his arms around him once more. "I have you all to myself," he murmured, slipping his fingers down the front of his jeans.
Lovino bit down on his lower lip. "What are you doing Antonio?" he asked softly, leaning against the older male.
"I think you need a physical examination, Lovino. When was the last time you were at the doctor?" he asked playfully, ignoring Lovino's question.
The Italian sucked in a breath. "It's been a while..."
Antonio clicked his tongue and pulled his hand away from his waistband. "We're going to have to fix that..." Antonio scooped Lovino from his feet and threw him over his shoulder.
Lovino bit back a surprised shriek. "Antonio! Put me down! There is no way this is professional!"
A slap rang out and Lovino fell silent. Oh, holy hell. Antonio had smacked his ass. What the hell? Lovino opened his mouth to speak and closed it. He opened it again, but he found that he could not form any words. His erection grew against Antonio's shoulder and he assumed that Antonio understood what was going through his head.
"I don't need to be professional, Lovino," Antonio said simply. He had crossed the room already and was standing at the end of the bed. He tossed Lovino down. He expected to have a rough landing but the mattress was thick and soft. He looked up at Antonio who stood over him. "Shall we get this show on the road?"
Lovino nodded gently, and Antonio straddled his sides with his knees. His tanned hands reached for the button on his pants and popped it slowly. Lovino sucked in a tight breath. Antonio was moving at an agonizingly slow rate like he always seemed to. Lovino already craved his touch. He craved it so badly it hurt. He needed Antonio to touch him. His heart was pounding and the flesh between his legs was throbbing. At twenty-one years old, he was girlishly falling apart by Antonio's miniscule touch. He heard the zipper of his jeans slowly open. He leaned his damp head back and closed his eyes. Antonio slid his jeans past his rear and down his thighs. He glanced downward just as Lovino opened his amber eyes.
"Hmm... You have an erection for your physician, huh, Mr. Vargas?" Antonio asked, taking a tone of authority. He took hold of Lovino's waistband and pulled his boxers down his legs, releasing his nearly erect length. Lovino immediately began to squirm. "Mr. Vargas, if you can't keep still, I will find a way to restrain you. Knowing what Gilbert enjoys in bed, I'm sure I can find something."
Lovino tense slightly, but stilled. He had to relax. This was nothing new. He had had sex with Antonio before. Just not recently. Not in five years. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Antonio let his fingers explore Lovino's length, a sly grin on his face. God, Lovino needed to move, to kiss that grin from his lips. He knew, however, what that would result in. He wasn't sure he could handle that feeling of restraint. He wrinkled his nose and sucked in a breath.
"You're as bastard, you know that?" Lovino asked, closing his eyes. He was lost in Antonio's soft touch already. He craved more.
"Such language, Mr. Vargas," he chastised. The Spaniard sealed Lovino's lips with a kiss that only moments before Lovino had wanted. Now that he had it, there was no way he was focusing on anything but. The younger male didn't notice that Antonio had undone his jeans or that he had removed his own member from its confines. He was too engrossed in his own pleasure, in the warm kiss they were sharing. Antonio pulled his soft lips away just as Lovino opened his eyes. "Oh, Lovi... the things I want to do with you..."
Lovino involuntarily squirmed at Antonio's softly spoken words. It was in that moment that he forgot to yell for the use of his nickname. He no longer cared. "Go ahead..." he whispered, attempting to remain still. He wanted so badly to pull Antonio to him, to kiss him and demand sweet, hot love from him, but he had to be still. He couldn't risk losing that ability to touch the Spaniard whilst they were in the room. He knew the bonds would be intoxicating and arousing, but they'd prevent him from letting his fingertips graze that perfectly tanned skin. He wouldn't lose that freedom.
Antonio pressed closer to the young Italian, and that's when he felt it. Lovino could feel Antonio's erection against his own. He wanted him so badly. God it hurt. He sat up quickly, wrapping his arms around the Spaniard's neck.
"Take me... take me now dammit," Lovino growled.
Antonio didn't need any more pushing. He seemed just as deprived and anxious as Lovino felt. Antonio lifted Lovino slightly, positioning himself. He was quick and Lovino felt little pain from his entry. A soft moan escaped the Italian's lips, and he pulled himself closer. His hips were pressed firmly against Antonio's. He was able to tell when the Spaniard began to move, in and out, in and out. By the time both came, they were in a sweaty, hot heap.
They laid there for a long while. There were no windows in the revamped closet. Lovino's phone was off somewhere, probably with the rest of their clothes. He didn't know the time and he didn't want to. With nightfall came the inevitable job. With nightfall he'd have to leave Antonio's warm hold. A blanket covered the two from the waist up. Lovino's damp head lay against the older man's chest and his arm lay across it. He listened and felt as it rose and fell with his every breath. He was enveloped by a sense of security just being there.
Lovino let his amber eyes flutter upwards. He managed to peek at Antonio's face through his long dark lashes. The Spaniard was resting and his eyes were closed. He seemed so serene. There was no longer a welt from where he had slapped him the night before. There weren't any scratches from Gilbert and Francis's beating. He was older and his cheeks were spattered with a bit of stubble, but Antonio looked the same as he did in high school. He still had that strong look about him.
Lovino knew he was weak to accept Antonio back into his life so easily, but it was hard not to. He had longed for him for years. He had wanted and craved his touch. He obviously had it back, Lovino noted. The Italian had the one person he cared about back, and he wasn't letting go. Of course he had trust issues with Antonio, but he'd work through them. And Lovino was going to be damned sure the bastard worked his ass off to regain that trust.
Antonio's green eyes fluttered open and he looked down at the Italian. Lovino made no reaction; he was trying so desperately to hold back his smile. He managed to succeed, but he was thrown off guard by Antonio's query.
"When did you get all of these tattoos?" he asked.
"Oh. When I turned eighteen three years ago," Lovino replied.
"You got full black sleeves on your arms at eighteen. How the hell could you afford that?"
"I had a job at the local pizza place. I've been told I make some kick ass pasta."
"Remind me to try that next time you cook me dinner."
"Bastard, who said I'd cook for you?"
"Hmm, I did and I always get my way."
"Bull shit you do."
"So what do so if these mean? Are some of them in Latin?" Antonio let his eyes fall back upon the black tattoos on Lovino's arms.
"Some are bible verses, others are famous quotes. There are a couple of symbols. A lot of geometric line work and scrolling pages of sorts. I didn't want to have a lot of common things. I wanted things that mattered. There's things that have meaning to me," he said. Lovino sat up and held out his right arm. He traced up his forearm until he got to the crook of his elbow. There he let his fingertip rest. "Despite everything that happened, and after a night of intense drinking, I got this."
L.V. ♡ A.C.
"To tell you the God honest truth," Lovino said. "I have never regretted those five tiny characters."
"You are so strong and romantic," Antonio said. A smile lay up on his lips and he sat up. He wrapped his arms around Lovino's neck. "What the hell have you done with my sad, grumpy little Lovi?"
A smirk fell upon the Italian's lips. "Sent him to the real world to become a man that knows what he's doing."
"I think I like this new Lovino." The Spaniard leaned in and kissed Lovino deeply.
Lovino felt Antonio's fingers fist into his water and sweat dampened locks. It only managed to fuel his passion. He knew damned well that neither of them was leaving anytime soon.
And that's when the door opened.
Lovino and Antonio split immediately, but they managed to remain covered by the blanket. Their wild eyes were locked on the door.
"Alfred, hurry up. I want- BOLLOCKS! You WANKER, you said nobody would be in here!" Arthur yelled.
"And I thought there wouldn't be. Don't start yelling Artie!" Alfred said.
"You made me walk in on poor Lovino and Antonio. BOLLOCKS! Uh. Hello Antonio, it's been a while."
"Artie! Leave them alone!" Alfred reprimanded. "Seriously, nice to see you again Toni, but we should, uh, probably go. Come one, you damned drunk!"
"You bloody fucking WANKER! I am not a DRUNK!" The door shut quickly, but Lovino and Antonio could still hear the yelling from outside. "BOLLOCKS! Alfred I fell over!"
"See, you are drunk!"
"It's my BLOODY VERTIGO, and if you call me drunk again, I will put my foot in your ARSE! You are BLOODY irritating, you damn YANK!"
Lovino stared at Antonio, his face crimson. "You bastard. You forgot to lock the door, didn't you?"
The Spaniard scratched the back of his head. "Hey, yeah. My bad, Lovi..."
And that was their cue to leave.
~
Lovino was once again in a suit. This one was navy with white pinstripes; Lovino loved his pinstripes. He wore a white shirt, a royal blue bowtie, and suspenders beneath his jacket. His hair was slicked back slightly in a messy sort of way. To top it off, he wore a pair of dark brown oxfords. He was probably dressed the least professionally out of the entire group, and he probably looked the most dashing. All around him he saw black ties and black suits. Lovino, however, had been told to dress differently for this particular occasion. As agreed by the majority of the mafia - the gay member at least - Lovino and Feliciano were the most attractive and elusive of the group; they were most likely to get in. This choice was much to Francis's disapproval. His vain opinions, however, were shot down. His face was far too recognizable unlike the Italian brothers. They had the tendency to remain off the radar. Not too many people knew their faces, and those who had had either kept their mouths shut or were six feet under. Tonight, he and Feliciano would infiltrate a club that the Russians frequented. They had to eavesdrop and get information. They were by no means to engage in an altercation with the Russians. If they could, they had to talk to them, weasel out information. If Ivan Braginski was seen, they were to leave immediately. It was a simple plan, but still, so many things could go wrong. Lovino was reluctant to bring Feliciano along. He was downright defiant when Francis suggested adding a third member to the party.
"Why the FUCK do you think I want to bring Antonio? You act like I'm ready to trust that bastard. This is a mission where people can get killed, and you want me to take someone untrained along? How can you be sure he can even handle a gun?" Lovino asked. He was pacing around the room, yelling. There was no way he was having this. He was not bringing that Spanish bastard along. This was dangerous. He was untrained. He could get killed. He would not let Antonio go along. There was no question. If there was even the slightest chance of danger, he refused, and everything was at risk. They were going in scantily armed for fucks sake. "I'm reluctant to bring Feli along. What makes you think I want to watch both of them? Idioti... I am not bringing him along, dammit."
"Yes, you are," Francis said. He had a tone of finality, but Lovino was ready to challenge him.
"What good would bringing both of them do? It would distract me. How the hell am I supposed to get information out of anyone?"
"Lovino, you know damned well that Feliciano can handle himself on the field. He's a natural at getting information out of anyone. By bringing Antonio, you two can distract the homophobes in the room. I'm sure Ivan hired plenty as not to risk anyone getting too friendly with his lovely Yao. You're taking Antonio and you two will do all of your couple shit. I don't care, mon amie. You are taking him, and that is that."
Lovino growled in contempt. "Why the hell do you think I want to do anything with him? He abandoned me for five fucking years."
"Lovino, darling, pretending that you're holding a grudge." Francis flashed one of his dazzling smiles. "I have heard from a little American birdie that you two were all cozied up together not an hour ago."
Lovino turned to Alfred, flipped him the bird, and turned back to Francis. "Does that conclude that I want to suck face with him in public? Fuck no. I have some decency and self respect."
"You will because I will take you off the job otherwise."
"You fucking bastard! That is not fair!"
"Life's a bitch, cherie. Suck it up. I'll go make Antonio a handsome devil and you inconspicuously tuck a switchblade anywhere you can. And Feliciano, keep smiling. Don't worry. Ludwig will be just around the corner at another bar if you need him. Just shoot him a text, and he'll come guns blazing to rescue you." Francis smiled at the younger Italian, and Lovino felt just a bit better. If Feliciano was level headed in this, they'd be fine. They'd be okay.
Lovino sighed gently, gestured for his brother to follow him, and left the room. He didn't head back to his bedroom. He had everything he needed for the night. He had his cell phone, a knife hidden in a compartment in the heel of his shoe, and nerves of steel. He was ready to go. The Italian, his brother, and their German tag-along stalked the hallways, taking turns and heading down flights of stairs until they were at the lower level-parking garage. He got into a black SUV and Feliciano got into another. Ludwig joined the younger brother, leaving Lovino alone. They were heading out as soon as eight o'clock hit. After ten or so minutes, the door opposite to where sat opened. Antonio got in swiftly and shut it behind him. Francis took the front seat; he was driving them tonight.
In the dim lighting, Lovino could tell that Antonio was in a suit. He wore something just as flouncy and stylish as Lovino, but without the suit jacket. He had a blue dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, a black vest, and a striped tie. His pants were plain black, and his had his own pair of black oxfords. His brown curls were damp and tamed. The scratches that littered his arms and legs were practically invisible under the intense makeup Lovino assumed Francis applied. All in all, Antonio looked stunning.
"Please tell me they weren't stupid enough to give you a gun," Lovino said.
"No, they didn't. Don't worry, Lovino," he replied.
"I'm doing nothing but worrying. Why wouldn't I fucking worry! I have both you and Feli going in there and they expect me to be a sitting duck! I can't risk losing both of you in one night, dammit!"
"You won't lose me. I promise you that Lovino."
"You better promise..." Lovino whispered.
The SUV with Feliciano and Ludwig pulled out of the parking garage and Lovino and Antonio pulled out minutes later. They wanted arrive at different times. This place was top notch expensive. It wasn't some place that any person got into. It was exclusive, cocktail dress and suit pant. There was a bouncer at the entrance and the exit. There were other placed throughout the building. They all worked for the Russian. Lovino only hoped they wouldn't be recognized. He and Feliciano had dress different, done their hair differently, and bored different personalities; all of this was done to ensure that they were not recognized. The entire night was riding on that fact. Lovino watched through the window of the SUV as the streetlights flew by. He watched as couples strolled down the street, arm in arm. He and Antonio had to pass off as one of those couples. It sounded so easily, but internally he was torn. Sure he had slept with him already, but showing their relationship... it was something he had always struggled with. Fear was rising in his gut with every mile. He wasn't sure he could pull it off, but as the SUV pulled up into an alley only a few blocks from the joint, he had to make quick decisions.
Lovino got out of the car and stepped into the dark alley. He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair and breathed in a deep breath. He looked at Francis who had gotten out of the car and was on the phone with he assumed Feliciano.
"You know what to do. Talk to one of the Russians, if you can a female. Talk to them, get them drinking, if you can flirt. I know that may be odd, but I'm sure you can do it. You and your brother are naturals at flirting with women," Francis said. Lovino looked to Antonio who had an irritated look on his face. The bastard was jealous. Of course Lovino had to flirt with people on the job. That was the way of life. He got the best information out of girls. They were always so willing to spill their guts to anyone who'd listen. "Feli. Keep calm. You have the knife in your heel. Lovino and Antonio will be right there across the room. They'll be watching and listening. No one will be focused on you." Francis paused to listen. A few moments went by. "Yes, Feli. You are allowed to take someone's gun if it comes to that. Just don't kill. Your main concern is getting out. Okay? Yes. Lovino and Antonio will be there in about ten minutes. Don't worry. You'll be fine. Get some wine and relax. Okay. Bye." Francis turned to Lovino and Antonio. Lovino Gazed back with steely amber eyes. "The same goes for you, too. Lovino take this. Don't flash it; don't use it unless it's absolutely necessary. Do not aim to kill. Hide it well." From his pocket Francis took Lovino's silver and grey gun. He held it out to Lovino who stared down at it with contempt.
"You said we were going in unarmed, Francis," Lovino said. His hands were in fists at his sides.
"I know what I said before, but I want you to have it just in case. You're a damn good shot, Lovino. Just take it and be careful."
With reluctance Lovino took the gun. "You'll be in the bar next door?" he asked.
"Of course, cherie. I'll be with the lovely bartender that works there on the weekends when he's not filing my paperwork and handling my money. Mathew darling, I'm coming!"
Lovino rolled his eyes and shoved his gun into the holster just below his arm. He wore it despite the fact the plan on going in unarmed. He figured Francis would pull some shit like he always did. Once his gun was secured, Lovino took hold of Antonio's hand. "Come on. We need to get going."
Lovino lead the way onto the busy main street. He let a dazzling smile cross his lips before looking up at. They hadn't walked that road together since they were in high school. New Year's Eve. Lovino watched the Spaniard's expression. He seemed so enchanted. Lovino gazed at him for a moment longer before looking back to the street. The smile still hung in his lips.
"Is what he said true?" Antonio suddenly asked.
"Is what true?" Lovino replied.
"Are you one of the best at flirting with girls?"
Holy hell, he was jealous. "I did it for work. It's not like I had feelings for any of them."
"Did you... kiss any of them?" Antonio asked. He was hesitant. He didn't seem to want to ask the question.
"You honestly think I would after I flipped last night? I thought you were married. I was hurt because I thought you were getting married. It was unfathomable for me to even think about kissing a girl. I'm gay."
Antonio looked to the ground, a blush covering his cheeks. "Oh. Right. Yeah. I mean, I just thought the job... Yeah. Nevermind."
Lovino rolled his eyes and squeezed Antonio's hand a bit tighter. He was like an innocent, lost puppy. They walked down the street in the dimming light, hand joined. The thoughts of the looming evening were on their shoulders, but just being together made things better. Lovino was at ease. Things had become suddenly casual between them. Lovino never used to show his adoration for Antonio in public. He never held his hand. He only ever had that embarrassed heated look on his face. Now seemed different. He wasn't a child anymore. He didn't care what others thought. Sure, it was still embarrassing for his friends to walk in on him half naked, but now he was able to accept the little things. He wasn't sure if they were necessarily dating again, but if they were, it would be a pretty kick ass way to tell the story. Lovino chuckled to himself, and just as Antonio was about to ask what was so funny, they approached the line to get into the club. They both fell silent for a moment. There was a thin crowd of people; this joint was more popular at night. Only a few individuals were in front of them, and the bouncer was quick to turn them away. They didn't seem to like the loud, blonde male that wore a Danish flag on the back of his jacket. They did, however, like the dark skinned girl with long dark hair, red bows, and a light blue dress. The way she stood seemed so innocent. There was no way she was over twenty-one, but she was let in anyways. She was let in anyways. Lovino and Antonio followed after. The bouncers looked at them and nodded. They were in.
As soon as they crossed the threshold of the club, Lovino let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The music was tasteful and not ear-splittingly loud. The place could be considered a restaurant if not for the huge dance floor and girls dancing on poles. The Russian certainly knew where to hang out. The people inside were classy. Even the dancers had on what seemed to be expensive, although skimpy, clothing. Lovino was glad he and Antonio had dressed to impress. He led the Spaniard off to a booth in the corner of the room and sat down. From where they were, Lovino could see Feliciano. He was talking to the bartender, a very pretty blonde girl with a bob. He recognized her from the local news channel. She was Katyusha Braginski, the Russian's older sister. She must have worked here on the weekends. She seemed approachable and calm. The usually frantic Feliciano seemed at ease talking to her. He'd handle himself well for just a little while.
Lovino turned to Antonio and smiled slightly. "So. Now we wait," he said.
"And now we wait," Antonio replied. "Do you want anything to drink? I'll go to the bar."
"Yeah, uh, wine. Nothing too strong. I don't want to get drunk."
Lovino watched as Antonio stood gracefully and sauntered over to the counter. By the look on Katyusha's face was one of delight. She seemed happy to serve him. Her personality was so innocent. She didn't even seem to recognize him from all those years ago. He did look younger back in those days. His face was more angular; he had lost most of his baby fat. The stubble that grew in on his face in the mornings was also fuller; it accented his face well. Lovino like it a lot. By the time Antonio returned, Lovino was lost in his musings. The Spaniard cleared his throat and set down the two glasses wine.
"Houston to Space Cadet. Houston to Space Cadet. Would you like your wine?"
The Italian looked up and smiled vaguely. "Oh. Sorry. I was lost in my thoughts," Lovino replied.
"Welcome back to Earth Space Cadet. Would you like to share your journeys with the class?"
"Nothing too important right now," he said. Lovino picked up his glass and sipped the wine absently. Antonio always said such strange things. Lovino had already learned to ignore them.
"Oh. I'm sure that's true," the other male said with a roll of his eyes. "Do you like it? The wine?"
"Yes. It's good. Better than the crap Arthur and Francis say is the best on the planet," he said. Lovino twisted the neck of the glass in his fingers, watching the liquid spin stay put while it spun. "That Russian certainly knows what to buy."
"You should have seen his lunches in high school. He didn't miss out on any good Russian soul cooking," Antonio replied. "He was high maintenance then, too."
Lovino chuckled slightly. He glanced over at his little brother again. They were at ease. That is until he saw the gun pointed at the back of Feliciano's head and the falsely cheery look on Katyusha's face. Lovino saw through it easily. They were caught, and the girl was trying so hard not to be terrified.
"FELI! DUCK!" Lovino yelled, jumping to his feet. His wine fell from his hand, and the glass shattered. The red liquid spread all over the white table cloth, but Lovino didn't care. He merely pushed past anyone that was in his way. He heard the shot, though, and stopped. His amber eyes searched frantically for his brother and any signs of blood. He was on the ground, in a heap, but Lovino saw no blood. He saw movement and a flash of silver. His little brother was on the move, knife in hand. But the little piece of plastic and metal would so nothing against any weapon the Russians had in their arsenal. He had brought a knife to a gunfight, but Lovino... Lovino had a gun of his own. He pulled it from the holster beneath his arm. The metal was cold to the touch, but he felt nothing. He was far more concerned with the ensuing events. "FELI! GET DOWN AND STAY DOWN!"
And then Lovino shot. He didn't aim to kill. He went for the legs. If they were too low, they'd never get a good aim, especially with the tables and poles scattered about. Lovino tried not hit anyone else in the room. He refused to injure a bystander. Shots were fired back at him, but he was in no concern for his safety. He'd been in worse situations and was more concerned for Feliciano and Antonio.
Fuck.
Antonio. Lovino had forgotten to make sure he had some sort of weapon. But when he turned to face Antonio, he noticed that he wasn't on the ground, terrified. No, he had wrestled a gun from a fallen Russian and was protecting himself. He was shooting as if were second nature to him. Lovino didn't stare for too long, though. Bullets were flying around him. He shot down Russian after Russian, but they didn't seem to care about their injuries. There were at least twenty of them, and Lovino needed to get through. Aiming to maim was getting difficult. He and Antonio were firing. Feliciano had found a gun, too. All three were firing. None had the chance to get to a phone to make a call. He only hoped that Francis heard something and called for backup.
"Lovino!" Feliciano yelled. He was getting closer to his older brother, waving one arms while he shot with the other. Lovino turned around to see what his brother was so frantic about. Behind him was a figure in traditional Chinese silks of bright colors. His hair was long and tamed only by a thin band of rubber. On his back was a bag with a panda bear poking out of the top. The animal was not stuffed; it was a real cub. He also saw the glint of silver that was a gun. Lovino did not think. He raised his own weapon and fired. Yao Wang gripped his shoulder and staggered slightly. He, however, did not stop. The Chinese man stalked forward, anger in his eyes. Lovino fired again, aiming this time for a leg. This time the man fell, but the feeling Lovino had in his gut was not one of relief. It was dread. Wang was too important. He was the Russian's lover. Lovino turned away quick to continue to fend of the Russians and get to the exit. He would not be caught here. He had injured Wang. He was as good as dead. And then it suddenly stopped. The Russians stopped shooting. Their guns were raised and trained on Antonio, Feliciano, and Lovino, but no bullets were fired.
"Enough," said an eerily calm voice. A feeling of dread washed over Lovino. He recognized that too soft voice. The Russian was coming. He must have been watching the entire time. "Enough. Now move out of my way," Ivan said. He pushed past people, bruised and bleeding alike, and stopped in front of Lovino. "Move, you insolent child." Lovino wasn't sure if it was fear that compelled him to move, or the sheer size of the massive man, but he stepped aside. He watched the Russian kneel down next to the Chinese man. When he spoke again, he didn't look at Lovino. "You shot him, ja?" Lovino said nothing and instead clenched his jaw. He wasn't going to fear this murderer. He stood his ground, fists clenched at his sides. "Round them up," Braginski said. He did not move from Yao's side. His large hands were pressed against the wounds on the main's limbs. When he noticed no one was moving, he whispered a soft, "Now."
Lovino felt hands take hold of his arms. He struggled a bit, but he was pitiful physically compared to the enormous Russians. He, Antonio, and Feliciano were brought to the front of Ivan. Feliciano had a sick, empty look on his face. Antonio was expressionless. Lovino was purely angry. "I shot him. Let those two go, Braginski," Lovino said. He didn't realize he was speaking until the words tumbled from his lips. Deep down, that was what he wanted. Sure, he was terrified of what the Russian would do to him. He, however, was not going to lose anyone else to the bastard. That would destroy him. Feliciano used to be the only person that mattered before the day previous. Now Antonio was back, and he was putting everything on the line. There was so much more to lose now. Everything and everyone he loved was at risk. He wouldn't put these people in the line of fire when this was his fault. "Don't hurt them."
"Oh, I intend to let you three go, Mr. Vargas. Yes, I know who you are. I had your grandfather killed remember? No, do not worry. You can go, but not without a parting gift to help you remember not to damage what is mine," the Russian said. He raised his gun and aimed. Dread washed over Lovino. His parting gift was pain. Ivan shot, but Lovino didn't feel any pain. He looked at the barrel of the gun. It was not aligned with him. He then heard someone collapse behind him. The world was suddenly in slow motion. Lovino turned and a drawn out cry of anguish escaped his lips. Feliciano was on the ground, in a heap. The Russian had shot Feliciano! Lovino knelt down, but it seemed to take ages for his knees to crash hard against the tiled floor. He grabbed hold of his little brother, hugging his tightly to his chest. The bullet had gone into his neck and exited out the back of the lower portion of his skull; the Russian was still crouched beside Yao, and therefore had the perfect angle for shooting upwards. The spot of red above Feliciano's clavicle was growing larger. He was bleeding at the entrance of the wound. Feliciano looked up at Lovino with his light eyes. They held no emotion. They seemed lifeless and dead.
"You can save him if you leave now. He will not die. I have made that shot before. People have survived. You take him to the hospital before he dies. And if you ever come near Yao again, I will not hesitate to take your trophy of a friend right beside you." Ivan's words held so many threats. He knew he wasn't lying, but Lovino was too furious to think rationally.
"He is a just a child!" Lovino said through staggered breaths.
"He is or was just a child?" Ivan asked. "If you do not leave, it will be in the past tense Go."
"Come on Lovino," Antonio said. The Spaniard lifted Feliciano from the ground and carried him bridal style towards the door. "Call Francis and Gilbert. Tell them to get Ludwig to the hospital after we get Feliciano into surgery. We don't want him causing a shit storm in the ER."
Lovino nodded and made the call. His voice was dull when he spoke. He learned that Francis hadn't heard the shots from the building next door. The music was too loud and he was too distracted by Mathew. He was going to drive them to the hospital. Antonio set Feliciano on the floor of the SUV in the back; they had taken the rear seats out to fit equipment in the back a few days prior. Lovino was at his side, applying pressing to both the wounds on his neck and skull.
Every God-awful thought that could go through his head was flying in too many directions. He couldn't concentrate on anything but he unconscious form of his brother. He was going to lose the last bit of family he had left. He had already lost Grandpa to the Russian. He couldn't lose his fratello, too. Tears stung at Lovino's eyes, but he dashed them away with the back of his hand. Everything was at risk here: his life, his sanity, and his brother. They needed to go faster.
"Come on!" Lovino yelled. "Come on! Francis we need to go faster! He's dying! Francis! Please!"
"Lovino! I'm going fifty down a thirty-five! If I go any faster, I'll kill all five of us!" Francis replied. He seemed to be calm in such a horrible situation. It must have been taking his all Feliciano was like a brother to him, too. "We're almost there. Just calm down and keep pressure on his wounds. You don't want to kill him because you're too frazzled to stopped the bleeding."
Lovino nodded. Francis was treating him like a child, but in this situation, it needed to happen. He was not in his right mind to care for his brother, but he couldn't trust anyone else to do it. Ludwig was not there. He didn't even know yet... That is until Francis answer his phone.
"Salut,*" he said. "Ludwig. We left. Sorry we didn't tell you. We were more concerned with something else-" Francis paused for a moment. "Mon amie! Tais-toi!** We didn't do it to ditch you! Gilbert isn't even here. Yes, Ludwig, I'm sure. We're heading to the hospital right now..." He paused again, but for longer this time. "LUDWIG! I do not know German even after growing up with Opa! Calm the fuck down! It will be alright! Now, don't start freaking out. Braginski shot Feliciano... in the head. No! Do not start speeding! It will do no good for Feli if you get arrested. I have a reason to speed down the street. You need to go slow! If you get arrested, I'm leaving you in there until tomorrow morning! Meet us at the hospital. À tout a l'heur.***" He hung up and sighed. "So much for keeping him in the dark. I'm assuming he's going eighty down any road he can..."
Lovino blocked out the rest of Francis' nervous rambiling. He watched his brother again, tears finally spilling over his lower lids. "Hold in there Feliciano," he said. "You can make it you have to make it. You're all I have left."
The Italian was broken. He couldn't handle it all. The pain was so utterly real. It was like when Antonio left and when Grandpa died. Feliciano was his annoying, little brother. His brother head lulled to sleep when the nightmares became unbearable. The brother that crawled into his bed whenever he had nightmares even though both boys had already reached the their twenties. He had always been there when Feliciano was too scared to sleep alone when Ludwig was on a job. Now he was in a sleep that hadn't been anticipated. He was forced into it, and he only wondered what nightmares raved in his little brother's head. Feliciano...
They arrived outside of the hospital and Antonio opened the back hatch of the SUV. He lifted Feliciano from the floor; there was a patch of blood beneath where his head had lain. Antonio carried him inside, and Lovino, Francis, and Mathew followed behind.
"We need some help!" Antonio yelled. The nurses came to him, their expressions puzzled. "He was shot in the head. He's barely hanging in. Please."
The nurses nodded briskly and ran off in different directions. One brought in a gurney and the other a surgeon. Antonio set Feliciano down just as Ludwig burst through the door.
"Feliciano!" he yelled. The tall blonde was locked in place, stunned. Seeing the love of his life so lifeless and limp must have been rough.
"Does he have any family with him?" one of the Nurses asked.
Lovino nodded and stepped up. "I'm his older brother. I'm all he has..."
"I need you to come with me. I have paperwork that needs to be filled out Mr.-" she paused, waiting for him to state his name.
"Vargas. Lovino Vargas. Please. Save him. Don't let him die."
"We'll do everything we can, Mr. Vargas. Now, please, follow me."
Lovino left the waiting room, his eyes glancing back only to see a very lost Anotnio and an utterly broken German. Ludwig's composure had never been broken before. He had never seen the man cry, not even when Aldrich was murdered. Seeing him now made him realize that Feliciano wasn't just his. He meant the world to Ludwig, and if they lost him tonight, they'd both lost a part of themselves they could never regain. Feliciano had better pull through.
*Salut: Hello
**Tais-toi: Please be quiet roughly towards a single person.
***À tout a l'heur: See you soon
Now, that was fun. I had a ton to work with, although, like I tend to do, I lost a page, procrastinated for at least two weeks, found the page, and then got on another roll. I think this is like fourteen pages in word. Maybe more. It was murder to decipher my chicken scratch handwriting. But I pulled through. Sorry for the last ass update. Thanks for reading. Oh. Yeah. Cliffhangers are a bitch, but I had a suggestion made to me that I just couldn't refuse. So Feliciano is in a life or death situation. Will he live or die. BUM BUM BUM