Neighborhood Watch [2b/5]
anonymous
September 22 2010, 10:28:50 UTC
But He wasn’t there, and Lovino had forgotten to put on a coat, and soon both he and his towel were as wet as He had been. Disappointed, Lovino opened his front gate and sulked up the walk back to his house. What had he been thinking? Of course He wouldn’t still be there, that would require something good happening in Lovino’s life. And Lovino’s weekly allowance of good things had already been filled up by the come-from-behind win of his favorite football team on Thursday.
Lovino’s weekly allowance of bad things still had plenty of room in its quota, however. Accordingly, as soon as Lovino set foot on the wet wood of the first step of his front porch, he slipped, fell backwards, and received a sharp knock to the head. “Fuck!”
The wet concrete made him shiver and the rain falling into his eyes made him blink, but Lovino didn’t get up for a while. Face to the sky, he continued to sulk. “…I didn’t mean it literally.”
The next morning, a Sunday, Lovino woke up at dawn, a habit, and went outside to take stock of his garden, a necessity. He knew Feliciano’s flowers wouldn’t have made it through the storm, but he hoped some of his vegetables would. Donning an old shirt and jeans that made him feel muddy just by looking at them, Lovino went outside into the deceptively clear morning to survey his damp domain. Just as he thought, the flowers were ruined, almost all their petals knocked to the ground during the night.
He didn’t even want to imagine the downtrodden look Feliciano would get upon seeing the remains of the roses. And usually Lovino enjoyed it when something disappointed Feliciano; just a little.
Rolling up his shirtsleeves, Lovino got to work in the mud and mess of leaves with a dedication he never displayed in his paper pushing. Gardening wasn’t work for him, even when it involved lifting heavy bags, standing in awkward ways that hurt his back or getting fertilizer in his eyes (that was disgusting, but still not work). Lovino had no idea how that had happened, because he hated most other physical activity and he usually lied his way out of nature trips with Feliciano’s happy little family unit. ‘I’m sorry Feli, something’s come up at work. Tell the girls I’ll see them next weekend.’
A little after noon, Lovino took a break from his garden, to relax on his couch and not do much of anything. Except wonder how he was going to ‘accidentally’ meet Him. The garden hose plan was out, it reminded Lovino far too much of the rainstorm from the previous night. And as much as he enjoyed revisiting the mental picture of Him, dripping wet, red shorts in the air and waiting, Lovino’s head was still killing him from the fall. He needed a plan that didn’t involve water. He’d… think of something. Maybe.
A little less enthused than when he’d started to rest, Lovino went back to work with only a small huff at how life liked to screw him over (but not get him screwed). Before he could even leave the safety of his covered porch, he heard high-pitched voices. They vaguely reminded him of his busybody aunt who had thrown holy water at him the first time he had come back for Christmas after moving out.
Lovino’s memory did not fail him. Two middle-aged women stood on the sidewalk, chatting. Lovino recognized one as his next-door neighbor, and the other as a divorcée who lived down the street and who liked to try and get all the single men in the neighborhood to have a threesome with her and her daughter. Lovino ducked behind the porch railing as quickly as he could. Before letting himself be seen he needed to know the divorcée wasn’t going to bug him about that again (for the third time). He peeked over the edge, just the tiniest bit, to see if the two women had seen him walk out his door.
Neither was looking in his direction. Lovino’s neighbor, he couldn’t remember her name, clutched at a plate of charred lumps as though they were diamonds. “I can’t talk now Gabrielle; I’m taking these over to Antonio on the next street.”
Neighborhood Watch [2b/5]
anonymous
September 22 2010, 10:36:04 UTC
He thought her name started with a D… or maybe it was a P… and she had a son, some creep of a kid who kept staring at Lovino whenever Lovino gardened. “Yes, Antonio Fernandez. Don’t tell me you don’t know who he is, Gabrielle? I’m sure you’ve seen him out running, half the neighborhood sets their watch by him now.”
Suddenly, the conversation Lovino was eavesdropping on became infinitely more interesting. They couldn’t be talking about… but who else…?
“In the evenings, in that pair of little white-”
“Yes! That’s him!”
Him.
Gabrielle whistled. “Yes, I know who you mean now. I’d forgotten his name.” She frowned, tapping her chin with a long finger. Her nails were fake, and red, and Lovino was more than a little scared of them. “You know, Doris, I’ve heard he’s a little… unsavory.”
A look of realization rolled slowly across Doris’s face (Doris. Yes, that was it) before a smoggy smugness settled in around the corners of her eyes. “Antonio is a lovely young man. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Gabrielle looked around and leaned closer, as if imparting a grand secret to her friend. Lovino sank a little lower behind the railing, until he could only just see above it. And listened. “I’ve heard he’s a… rumors are rumors, but there must be some reason a man like him hasn’t settled down. I know he’s met my daughter.”
Doris raised her nose in the air. Lovino had been around enough neighborhood parties to know that meant she knew something she thought no one else did. “It’s not just a rumor.” Gabrielle gasped, delighted by the scandal.
Lovino’s spying heart beat faster.
Doris continued. “I was talking to him about my Ethan, he’s at university, remember? Well, I was telling Antonio about how my Ethan up and decided he was a homosexual last spring, and you know naturally it came as a shock but Horace and I have always been very good to Ethan and we decided that this should be no different, so we told him he could bring his new ‘friend’ home with him for his birthday if that was what he liked.” She took a deep, thundering breath.
Before Gabrielle had time to turn the monologue back into a conversation, Doris prattled on. “And he did. Rajit was his name, from India, and he was such a darling, not like you’d think, yes, very clean and polite. He wrote plays, very clever, but he was also doing a Mathematics degree too and I told my Ethan, I said, ‘dear you should take notes from this lifestyle decision of yours’, but don’t you know they broke up just last month, Ethan was so torn up about it and I thought that would be that, but I couldn’t say that to my little boy because Tim and I had decided together, we did, that we would be supportive, so… so… where was I Gabrielle?”
Long years on the garden society board had raised Gabrielle’s tolerance for mindless chatter. “You were saying that the rumors about Antonio Fernandez are true.”
Fewer years (that felt just as long or longer) being pestered by the garden society had raised Lovino’s ability to not give a fuck about why their cucumbers weren’t doing as well as his or whose daughter was ‘really very nice. And flexible.’ But he’d also learned a thing or two about the useful tidbits that could be gleaned from a lonely housewife’s weekly report. And hidden as he was, he didn’t even have to smile and nod along.
“Exactly! I was picking up Princess from him when we got to talking, and maybe I knew even then, he was so polite just like Ethan’s Rajit was, and I got to telling him about my Ethan, and you know I knew about those rumors about poor Antonio and I thought ‘well Doris, here’s your chance, ease into it’ and I said to him ‘Now Antonio,’ because he insists that I call him by his first name, such a darling, ‘Now Antonio, you wouldn’t happen to be on the market at the moment would you? Not for myself, mind, my Horace and I have been going thirty-two years strong next Wednesday,’ and after he complimented me, such a charming boy I’ve never seen, I said ‘because my poor Ethan is a gay and Horace and I are very proud of him, but he’s recently lost his first gentleman friend if you quite understand me, and I wondered if you wouldn’t mind taking him for coffee, he used to love doing that with Rajit.’”
Neighborhood Watch [2D/5]
anonymous
September 22 2010, 10:43:24 UTC
Lovino swore he felt a few of his brain cells shriveling away into nothing. At this rate he would turn into his brother.
Gabrielle slapped her friend’s arm playfully. “Don’t you dare stop now, Doris Bramley.”
“Well.” Lovino gulped. “You know what he said?” Getonwithitgetonwithit… “He said, in that funny way of talking he has, oh it sent a shiver right up my spine but you know I’m only for Horace, but if I was a few decades younger…”
Gabrielle, luckily, snapped before Lovino did. “Doris!”
“Yes, yes Gabrielle. Don’t rush me. Antonio said that it was very considerate of me to look out for my son like that,” Doris paused one last time, “but that he was already 33 and would feel very strange going on a coffee date with a 23 year old graduate student!”
The two women tittered between themselves about Antonio Fernandez’s looks and bearing, and how he didn’t look a day over 30 and if they were a decade younger (“Don’t kid yourself, Gabrielle, dear”)… Lovino’s thoughts were more to the point. ‘…that as-that- he’s 33? How the hell does he do that?’
Gabrielle recovered from the news faster than Lovino did, and soon she had Doris spinning the rest of her tale. “And you know that didn’t confirm things, I had to ask just to make sure.”
“You didn’t! Doris you minx!”
‘Minx’ was not a word many would use to describe Doris Bramley. Not even Horace. “Exactly! I said, ‘Antonio, I wish I knew your secret! And it’s alright: my Ethan won’t be any more depressed than he’s already been. It’s just so difficult to find him a nice homosexual man to settle down with in this area.”
“And?”
Lovino realized he’d started chewing on one of his thumbnails. It was another habit of his, something he’d done when stressed ever since he was a round little kid with no patience and a bad mouth. He took his finger out of his mouth as quickly as he could and wiped it down on his pants. If no one saw that then it didn’t happen… he continued to listen.
Doris continued to speak, pitching her voice lower, into a strange accent Lovino didn’t recognize (but correctly assumed was supposed to be the all-encompassing ‘Foreign’). “And he said, ‘Ah ha… I’m sure there’s more than just me. If your son keeps looking no doubt he’ll find the right person.’ He said that outright, sweet as anything.”
“So it’s really true.”
“True as my prize biscuits.” Gabrielle coughed pointedly, and Doris sniffed. “True as the air and the sky you old harlot.”
Gabrielle waved her arms dramatically. “And here I was hoping to set him up on a coffee date with my Marie. You know she went and decided to become a vegetarian at school…?”
Lovino, finally, blessedly, stopped listening. That was… in his hopes and, frankly, in his fantasies… he’d always just assumed. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t usually tell the difference when he saw people (he’d thought Feliciano was flaming for most of their lives, and look how that had turned out), not even when he was attracted to them. How the hell was he supposed to know a guy’s sexual preferences just by watching him run? A guy was straight unless he hit on Lovino of his own volition. That was Lovino’s rule. Lovino’s rule saved him from plenty of bad guesses and awkward situations and humiliation. He liked that outcome of his rule well enough not to change it, even though it didn’t get him much action.
But with Him, no, with Antonio, Lovino had guessed. Unquestioningly.
It was probably the shorts.
Those shorts and Hi- Antonio inside them and Lovino had the sudden epiphany that his rule was shit.
Half an hour later, after a shower that had started out cold and well-intentioned and that had ended steaming red burning hot, Lovino stepped out his front door again. It was kind of stupid to wash right before going out to wrestle with plants in the mud, but he had needed that. Really needed that. Lovino couldn’t see or hear anyone else around by the time he got out his clippers and trowels and tools of the trade. That was something else he had sorely needed. He’d work in peace for a few more hours, shower again, and by 8:30, weather permitting, he’d. He’d. He’d something. Lovino didn’t know what yet, but he’d definitely something.
Neighborhood Watch [2 AN/5]
anonymous
September 22 2010, 10:51:21 UTC
I had too much fun with the old ladies (Gabrielle and Doris exist because Francis and Arthur have their own parts to play. The micronations they can represent if you feel like it exist within France and England, respectively). But meeting the neighborhood is fun? And to make up for it I gave you sopping wet Spain, backstory and Romano being grumpy? Yeah. This is coming to you quicker than I thought it would. I can’t promise the same speed for the next part, but I’ll try. I can promise you more Spain.
“Very wet rain”: Lovino’s inner pervy monologue is a very eloquent thing.
“He… didn’t have any underwear lines”: because his boxers were very loose. Right, Romano? Right?
“Lovino had guessed. Unquestioningly”: He honestly didn’t know about Antonio. It really was the shorts. They’re the ‘mincing around’ type, to reference the epic ‘N.Italy writes mystery novels fill.’ It will be explained, eventually, why Antonio is wearing them.
1non: thank you, and here’s the more!
2non: glad you like him! It’s been really weird for me writing him as outofthecloset!Romano, as compared to ‘gay what gay what do you mean gay oh are you talking about that guy standing over there sure he looks like a homo because I am not gay I just get… sick… sometimes and the sperm of other men… cures… that.’*bolts!*!Romano.
3non: //// I certainly wish, anon. Thank you, for the comment and waiting patiently both.
4non: :) Romano tells it like it is to small children. Sounds like a story of its own. You called Lovino’s clever, clever plan totally failing. But he has more plans. One whole part full of more plans that are equally clever, clever.
OP: YES!! I’m really happy this hit the appropriate buttons! I saw the tan bit in the prompt and wanted to include it, wasn’t sure of how to do that without descending into unintentionallyridiculousland, and that was the result. Yes’m! Will take time. Will not take too much time!
6non: And the Lovino narrative loves you back, so long as you are the human version of a fictional anthropomorphized Kingdom of Spain. You are… right? Just checking, the narrative gets grumpy about me throwing its love everywhere. He likes to pretend it’s very exclusive. Ah hah, will stop now; thank you!
7non: It’s like I’m a reverse zombie of happiness then, aren’t I? Ah yes, the tight white jogging shorts. :) Sorry they had to go away for the rainstorm, but even Antonio isn’t that silly. Thanks for reading! And if the constructive when you’ve got it comes with crit, I’m open to that. Just so y’know. Figured I should say that.
8non: Thanks anon! I’m feeling good on this one; it’s pretty easy to get going.
Re: Neighborhood Watch [2 AN/5]
anonymous
September 22 2010, 11:01:57 UTC
If Romano knew he was visible and was less clueless and tsundere, surely he would actually start to wonder about this situation ... right? I mean, Antonio jogging by way more slowly than usual? In the pouring rain at 8:30? Bending over in his soaking wet, revealing shorts and waggling his ass at the window for ages? While going commando? ... Okay, maybe he just thinks his luck is too good to question. XD
He didn’t even want to imagine the downtrodden look Feliciano would get upon seeing the remains of the roses. And usually Lovino enjoyed it when something disappointed Feliciano; just a little. ... Oh Romano, why such denial about caring about your own brother? XP
They vaguely reminded him of his busybody aunt who had thrown holy water at him the first time he had come back for Christmas after moving out. Wait, what? What the hell? XD
... Never have gossipy old neighborhood ladies been so useful to fangirls as in this fic. Awesome OCs; they're useful, unobtrusive, and have just the right amount of characterization. GJ, anon. Also, way to work in a mention of Dat Ass. :Db
Pfft, the irony: (he’d thought Feliciano was flaming for most of their lives, and look how that had turned out). :D
Re: Neighborhood Watch [2 AN/5]
anonymous
September 22 2010, 16:04:45 UTC
THIS!
Gabrielle and Doris are so cute as gossipy neighbors, especially how they're always trying to come onto all the bachelors in the neighborhood! I'm actually sad we won't get to see more of all these wonderful OCs. As long as we get more Antonio...and Lovino.
So looking forward to the next update? And where Francis and Arthur fit into this.
Authoranon, your derpy/hilarious/thoughtful notes seem familiar. Have you perhaps written more Spamano on this here meme? Or perhaps some femSpamano?
Also, is it bad that I think Spain in dark red short-shorts and a grey long sleaved shirt (yes that is the color it is in my mind) and soaking wet is 10x better than shirtless Spain?
Link to mystery novel fill please?
anonymous
September 24 2010, 03:11:14 UTC
"They’re the ‘mincing around’ type, to reference the epic ‘N.Italy writes mystery novels fill.’" <--Can you post the link to this please? I think I know which fic you're talking about, but the one I'm thinking about wasn't finished. At least, I don't think it was as I couldn't the next parts of it. Also I lost the link to it which is sad because I loved it so much. >.<
On another note, yay you updated! I absolutely love the humor in this fic. <3
"...(he’d thought Feliciano was flaming for most of their lives, and look how that had turned out)" <-- This I just LOL so much. Oh Lovino, you and me both.
Things OP is in love with
anonymous
September 23 2010, 20:50:51 UTC
- Antonio's shorts - The amount of drool Lovino is producing over said shorts -The hilarious gossip -ETHAN. Oh Ethan. I'd also stare at Lovino while he gardens, don't worry.
marry me, authornon. we'll move into a quaint little house with a white picket fence and stalkstalkstalk our sexy neighbours together. ;u; I LOVE THIS AND YOU FOR WRITING IT
Lovino’s weekly allowance of bad things still had plenty of room in its quota, however. Accordingly, as soon as Lovino set foot on the wet wood of the first step of his front porch, he slipped, fell backwards, and received a sharp knock to the head. “Fuck!”
The wet concrete made him shiver and the rain falling into his eyes made him blink, but Lovino didn’t get up for a while. Face to the sky, he continued to sulk. “…I didn’t mean it literally.”
The next morning, a Sunday, Lovino woke up at dawn, a habit, and went outside to take stock of his garden, a necessity. He knew Feliciano’s flowers wouldn’t have made it through the storm, but he hoped some of his vegetables would. Donning an old shirt and jeans that made him feel muddy just by looking at them, Lovino went outside into the deceptively clear morning to survey his damp domain. Just as he thought, the flowers were ruined, almost all their petals knocked to the ground during the night.
He didn’t even want to imagine the downtrodden look Feliciano would get upon seeing the remains of the roses. And usually Lovino enjoyed it when something disappointed Feliciano; just a little.
Rolling up his shirtsleeves, Lovino got to work in the mud and mess of leaves with a dedication he never displayed in his paper pushing. Gardening wasn’t work for him, even when it involved lifting heavy bags, standing in awkward ways that hurt his back or getting fertilizer in his eyes (that was disgusting, but still not work). Lovino had no idea how that had happened, because he hated most other physical activity and he usually lied his way out of nature trips with Feliciano’s happy little family unit. ‘I’m sorry Feli, something’s come up at work. Tell the girls I’ll see them next weekend.’
A little after noon, Lovino took a break from his garden, to relax on his couch and not do much of anything. Except wonder how he was going to ‘accidentally’ meet Him. The garden hose plan was out, it reminded Lovino far too much of the rainstorm from the previous night. And as much as he enjoyed revisiting the mental picture of Him, dripping wet, red shorts in the air and waiting, Lovino’s head was still killing him from the fall. He needed a plan that didn’t involve water. He’d… think of something. Maybe.
A little less enthused than when he’d started to rest, Lovino went back to work with only a small huff at how life liked to screw him over (but not get him screwed). Before he could even leave the safety of his covered porch, he heard high-pitched voices. They vaguely reminded him of his busybody aunt who had thrown holy water at him the first time he had come back for Christmas after moving out.
Lovino’s memory did not fail him. Two middle-aged women stood on the sidewalk, chatting. Lovino recognized one as his next-door neighbor, and the other as a divorcée who lived down the street and who liked to try and get all the single men in the neighborhood to have a threesome with her and her daughter. Lovino ducked behind the porch railing as quickly as he could. Before letting himself be seen he needed to know the divorcée wasn’t going to bug him about that again (for the third time). He peeked over the edge, just the tiniest bit, to see if the two women had seen him walk out his door.
Neither was looking in his direction. Lovino’s neighbor, he couldn’t remember her name, clutched at a plate of charred lumps as though they were diamonds. “I can’t talk now Gabrielle; I’m taking these over to Antonio on the next street.”
“Antonio?”
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Suddenly, the conversation Lovino was eavesdropping on became infinitely more interesting. They couldn’t be talking about… but who else…?
“In the evenings, in that pair of little white-”
“Yes! That’s him!”
Him.
Gabrielle whistled. “Yes, I know who you mean now. I’d forgotten his name.” She frowned, tapping her chin with a long finger. Her nails were fake, and red, and Lovino was more than a little scared of them. “You know, Doris, I’ve heard he’s a little… unsavory.”
A look of realization rolled slowly across Doris’s face (Doris. Yes, that was it) before a smoggy smugness settled in around the corners of her eyes. “Antonio is a lovely young man. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Gabrielle looked around and leaned closer, as if imparting a grand secret to her friend. Lovino sank a little lower behind the railing, until he could only just see above it. And listened. “I’ve heard he’s a… rumors are rumors, but there must be some reason a man like him hasn’t settled down. I know he’s met my daughter.”
Doris raised her nose in the air. Lovino had been around enough neighborhood parties to know that meant she knew something she thought no one else did. “It’s not just a rumor.” Gabrielle gasped, delighted by the scandal.
Lovino’s spying heart beat faster.
Doris continued. “I was talking to him about my Ethan, he’s at university, remember? Well, I was telling Antonio about how my Ethan up and decided he was a homosexual last spring, and you know naturally it came as a shock but Horace and I have always been very good to Ethan and we decided that this should be no different, so we told him he could bring his new ‘friend’ home with him for his birthday if that was what he liked.” She took a deep, thundering breath.
Before Gabrielle had time to turn the monologue back into a conversation, Doris prattled on. “And he did. Rajit was his name, from India, and he was such a darling, not like you’d think, yes, very clean and polite. He wrote plays, very clever, but he was also doing a Mathematics degree too and I told my Ethan, I said, ‘dear you should take notes from this lifestyle decision of yours’, but don’t you know they broke up just last month, Ethan was so torn up about it and I thought that would be that, but I couldn’t say that to my little boy because Tim and I had decided together, we did, that we would be supportive, so… so… where was I Gabrielle?”
Long years on the garden society board had raised Gabrielle’s tolerance for mindless chatter. “You were saying that the rumors about Antonio Fernandez are true.”
Fewer years (that felt just as long or longer) being pestered by the garden society had raised Lovino’s ability to not give a fuck about why their cucumbers weren’t doing as well as his or whose daughter was ‘really very nice. And flexible.’ But he’d also learned a thing or two about the useful tidbits that could be gleaned from a lonely housewife’s weekly report. And hidden as he was, he didn’t even have to smile and nod along.
“Exactly! I was picking up Princess from him when we got to talking, and maybe I knew even then, he was so polite just like Ethan’s Rajit was, and I got to telling him about my Ethan, and you know I knew about those rumors about poor Antonio and I thought ‘well Doris, here’s your chance, ease into it’ and I said to him ‘Now Antonio,’ because he insists that I call him by his first name, such a darling, ‘Now Antonio, you wouldn’t happen to be on the market at the moment would you? Not for myself, mind, my Horace and I have been going thirty-two years strong next Wednesday,’ and after he complimented me, such a charming boy I’ve never seen, I said ‘because my poor Ethan is a gay and Horace and I are very proud of him, but he’s recently lost his first gentleman friend if you quite understand me, and I wondered if you wouldn’t mind taking him for coffee, he used to love doing that with Rajit.’”
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Gabrielle slapped her friend’s arm playfully. “Don’t you dare stop now, Doris Bramley.”
“Well.” Lovino gulped. “You know what he said?” Getonwithitgetonwithit… “He said, in that funny way of talking he has, oh it sent a shiver right up my spine but you know I’m only for Horace, but if I was a few decades younger…”
Gabrielle, luckily, snapped before Lovino did. “Doris!”
“Yes, yes Gabrielle. Don’t rush me. Antonio said that it was very considerate of me to look out for my son like that,” Doris paused one last time, “but that he was already 33 and would feel very strange going on a coffee date with a 23 year old graduate student!”
The two women tittered between themselves about Antonio Fernandez’s looks and bearing, and how he didn’t look a day over 30 and if they were a decade younger (“Don’t kid yourself, Gabrielle, dear”)… Lovino’s thoughts were more to the point. ‘…that as-that- he’s 33? How the hell does he do that?’
Gabrielle recovered from the news faster than Lovino did, and soon she had Doris spinning the rest of her tale. “And you know that didn’t confirm things, I had to ask just to make sure.”
“You didn’t! Doris you minx!”
‘Minx’ was not a word many would use to describe Doris Bramley. Not even Horace. “Exactly! I said, ‘Antonio, I wish I knew your secret! And it’s alright: my Ethan won’t be any more depressed than he’s already been. It’s just so difficult to find him a nice homosexual man to settle down with in this area.”
“And?”
Lovino realized he’d started chewing on one of his thumbnails. It was another habit of his, something he’d done when stressed ever since he was a round little kid with no patience and a bad mouth. He took his finger out of his mouth as quickly as he could and wiped it down on his pants. If no one saw that then it didn’t happen… he continued to listen.
Doris continued to speak, pitching her voice lower, into a strange accent Lovino didn’t recognize (but correctly assumed was supposed to be the all-encompassing ‘Foreign’). “And he said, ‘Ah ha… I’m sure there’s more than just me. If your son keeps looking no doubt he’ll find the right person.’ He said that outright, sweet as anything.”
“So it’s really true.”
“True as my prize biscuits.” Gabrielle coughed pointedly, and Doris sniffed. “True as the air and the sky you old harlot.”
Gabrielle waved her arms dramatically. “And here I was hoping to set him up on a coffee date with my Marie. You know she went and decided to become a vegetarian at school…?”
Lovino, finally, blessedly, stopped listening. That was… in his hopes and, frankly, in his fantasies… he’d always just assumed. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t usually tell the difference when he saw people (he’d thought Feliciano was flaming for most of their lives, and look how that had turned out), not even when he was attracted to them. How the hell was he supposed to know a guy’s sexual preferences just by watching him run? A guy was straight unless he hit on Lovino of his own volition. That was Lovino’s rule. Lovino’s rule saved him from plenty of bad guesses and awkward situations and humiliation. He liked that outcome of his rule well enough not to change it, even though it didn’t get him much action.
But with Him, no, with Antonio, Lovino had guessed. Unquestioningly.
It was probably the shorts.
Those shorts and Hi- Antonio inside them and Lovino had the sudden epiphany that his rule was shit.
Half an hour later, after a shower that had started out cold and well-intentioned and that had ended steaming red burning hot, Lovino stepped out his front door again. It was kind of stupid to wash right before going out to wrestle with plants in the mud, but he had needed that. Really needed that. Lovino couldn’t see or hear anyone else around by the time he got out his clippers and trowels and tools of the trade. That was something else he had sorely needed. He’d work in peace for a few more hours, shower again, and by 8:30, weather permitting, he’d. He’d. He’d something. Lovino didn’t know what yet, but he’d definitely something.
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“Very wet rain”: Lovino’s inner pervy monologue is a very eloquent thing.
“He… didn’t have any underwear lines”: because his boxers were very loose. Right, Romano? Right?
“Lovino had guessed. Unquestioningly”: He honestly didn’t know about Antonio. It really was the shorts. They’re the ‘mincing around’ type, to reference the epic ‘N.Italy writes mystery novels fill.’ It will be explained, eventually, why Antonio is wearing them.
1non: thank you, and here’s the more!
2non: glad you like him! It’s been really weird for me writing him as outofthecloset!Romano, as compared to ‘gay what gay what do you mean gay oh are you talking about that guy standing over there sure he looks like a homo because I am not gay I just get… sick… sometimes and the sperm of other men… cures… that.’*bolts!*!Romano.
3non: //// I certainly wish, anon. Thank you, for the comment and waiting patiently both.
4non: :) Romano tells it like it is to small children. Sounds like a story of its own. You called Lovino’s clever, clever plan totally failing. But he has more plans. One whole part full of more plans that are equally clever, clever.
OP: YES!! I’m really happy this hit the appropriate buttons! I saw the tan bit in the prompt and wanted to include it, wasn’t sure of how to do that without descending into unintentionallyridiculousland, and that was the result. Yes’m! Will take time. Will not take too much time!
6non: And the Lovino narrative loves you back, so long as you are the human version of a fictional anthropomorphized Kingdom of Spain. You are… right? Just checking, the narrative gets grumpy about me throwing its love everywhere. He likes to pretend it’s very exclusive. Ah hah, will stop now; thank you!
7non: It’s like I’m a reverse zombie of happiness then, aren’t I? Ah yes, the tight white jogging shorts. :) Sorry they had to go away for the rainstorm, but even Antonio isn’t that silly. Thanks for reading! And if the constructive when you’ve got it comes with crit, I’m open to that. Just so y’know. Figured I should say that.
8non: Thanks anon! I’m feeling good on this one; it’s pretty easy to get going.
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He didn’t even want to imagine the downtrodden look Feliciano would get upon seeing the remains of the roses. And usually Lovino enjoyed it when something disappointed Feliciano; just a little. ... Oh Romano, why such denial about caring about your own brother? XP
They vaguely reminded him of his busybody aunt who had thrown holy water at him the first time he had come back for Christmas after moving out. Wait, what? What the hell? XD
... Never have gossipy old neighborhood ladies been so useful to fangirls as in this fic. Awesome OCs; they're useful, unobtrusive, and have just the right amount of characterization. GJ, anon. Also, way to work in a mention of Dat Ass. :Db
Pfft, the irony: (he’d thought Feliciano was flaming for most of their lives, and look how that had turned out). :D
... Why's this so fun to read? <3
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Why do I feel that if Antonio doesn't start being a bit more forward all of Lovino's plans are going to fail?
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Gabrielle and Doris are so cute as gossipy neighbors, especially how they're always trying to come onto all the bachelors in the neighborhood! I'm actually sad we won't get to see more of all these wonderful OCs. As long as we get more Antonio...and Lovino.
So looking forward to the next update? And where Francis and Arthur fit into this.
Authoranon, your derpy/hilarious/thoughtful notes seem familiar. Have you perhaps written more Spamano on this here meme? Or perhaps some femSpamano?
Also, is it bad that I think Spain in dark red short-shorts and a grey long sleaved shirt (yes that is the color it is in my mind) and soaking wet is 10x better than shirtless Spain?
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This fic is just...awesome, amazing, more positive a adjectives that I can't think of right now. <3
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You make Spain sound hot. I mean, really, really hot. And that makes me happy.
In fact, this whole story makes me really, very happy~
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I love your Lovino voice. It's just the right amount of bite without turning him into a permabitch. His denials and such are adorable and lolworthy.
Ffft, Antonio. Going out running when it's raining! FFFFT.
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<3<3<3<3 :D
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On another note, yay you updated! I absolutely love the humor in this fic. <3
"...(he’d thought Feliciano was flaming for most of their lives, and look how that had turned out)" <-- This I just LOL so much. Oh Lovino, you and me both.
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- The amount of drool Lovino is producing over said shorts
-The hilarious gossip
-ETHAN. Oh Ethan. I'd also stare at Lovino while he gardens, don't worry.
marry me, authornon. we'll move into a quaint little house with a white picket fence and stalkstalkstalk our sexy neighbours together. ;u; I LOVE THIS AND YOU FOR WRITING IT
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