Having An Interesting Day At Work
WHO: Spain, Romano
WHEN: Monday lunchtime
WHERE: Dos Llamas
WHAT: A Hectic Schedule
( Drama at the Llama )
WHEN: Monday lunchtime
WHERE: Dos Llamas
WHAT: A Hectic Schedule
( Drama at the Llama )
"Secret stash" Were the two words Antonio said in reply to Romano's question. He smiled to himself when he realized that in his joy over italian wine that he had forgotten to scold him over the nickname. Not that being scolded would actually deter the Spaniard from calling him that but it was pleasant surprise not to be yelled at for it.
By the time the other male had started on his second glass Antonio heard the bell that signaled an order was up. In one smooth motion Antonio was up, walking across the room and through the door. In a blink, he was back through the same door with a plate of hot Empanadas. He set the plate down in front of his customer and then relaxed back in the seat.
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His mind was otherwise preoccupied with a much more important realization; there had been a secret stash and Antonio had never told him!?
Then again, Romano's trips to Dos Llama *had* been numbered, as he'd much prefer to drop by Vargas Pizzeria instead for *real* Italian food at-more often than not- no cost.
Indeed the rarity of his visits increased the significance of Antonio keeping Italian wine 'just in case', but Romano paid no mind to it.
As the Spaniard returned, Romano glanced down at the food that had been placed in front of him. Tentatively he cut off a small portion of the Empanada closest to him, inspecting it's contents to deem it safe before placing it in his mouth.
He glanced up at the wall clock; 2.10...half an hour to go. Romano's attention dropped to the man across from him. The wine was good...the Spanish food was good -though he'd never admit it- and Antonio appeared too exhausted to strike up a conversation.
Romano was- heavens forbid- content.
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"Twenty more minutes" The tanned man said happily, really too tired to think of anything else to say. He didn't even know why he said it seeing as it couldn't really start a conversation but it was too late now so it didn't matter. His gaze fell back to Romano and he offered a small smile before his gaze fell again to the dirty dishes. He would have to clean those up.
Eventually.
Right now he just felt like sitting here and relaxing. Listening in on other peoples conversation, not on purpose of course but people did talk rather loudly, and letting his eyes slide halfway closed in his sleepiness.
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"Twenty minutes" Romano echoed, his head dropping further into the palm of his hand. If there was anything that made Antonio endurable, it was the similarities between Italian and Spanish culture. They agreed on little, but it was what they did agree on- mainly Tomatoes and Siestas- that was important.
Twenty minutes wasn't much..he could last that long. The restaurant had cleared out a little, which allowed him to relax without the hectic and layered background noise that had been present upon arrival.
Romano downed his glass and started on the second Empanada. Three glasses of wine coupled with an increasing want to nap had made him quite complacent, and with Antonio hardly talking the atmosphere was almost peaceful.
Almost.
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Antonio stretched his arms above his head and leaned back in the chair, causing his shirt to come untucked and expose a little bit of a well toned stomach as he did so. Not that the Spanish man realized of course. He felt his back pop with a small noise that was drowned out by the murmur of people coming in for a late lunch before returning to a lazy sitting position with his hands folded in his lap.
Spain hummed a little song to himself as he waited patiently, his gaze flicking to the clock before back to the boy sharing the table. Five more minutes and they could leave.
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The Italian began to fancy his chances of picking the lock himself, however last time he had tried that the security had mistaken him for a thief, and Feli had questioned him endlessly with where he obtained such skills.
It'd be so much easier to tell the retard about the mafia and get it over with.
The clock struck 2.30 and Romano pushed the plate away from him without so much as a 'thank you.' From Antonio's comments and adherence to Spanish culture, Romano imagined he'd be leaving soon as well. At least there was one other person who didn't surrender so hopelessly to the American way of living- it was disgusting!
Pushing his chair back he reached for his bag, making no gesture or implication of paying for the meal. If Antonio wanted money he'd ask.
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"You're welcome to take your siesta at my house. Unless of course you can get a hold of Feliciano that is" Spain offered, patting his pockets for his apartment key to make sure he hadn't forgotten it in the apron. He had done that so many times that he had finally gotten into the habit of checking before he left. He then flashed a brilliant smile at Romano before walking towards the door, leading the Italian out.
He would pay for both the meal and the wine later. Somehow.
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A Siesta...at his place? A proper Siesta? A naked Siesta? [note: Romano's a little slow sometimes]
With such hastiness that could be considered offensive to Antonio, Romano whipped out his phone and stared blankly at the screen. No messages, no emails. In a few clicks he quickly accessed the net, and found no comments either.
Well...he was tired, and didn't find the prospect of sleeping ala drunkard style on the doorstep but...
Without gesturing to his companion, Romano quick-dialed in Feliciano's work number.
Silence.
"I am going to kill that son of a bitch!"
Finally, he acknowledged Antonio again, behaving as if the last few minutes had never happened. "Fine. I'll go."
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Antonio of course took no offense at how quickly the phone was wiped out. Of course, he probably wouldn't take offense to anything short of someone punching him in the face. He chuckled lightly at the outburst when Romano had failed to contact his brother yet again, through four different methods. Even Antonio had realized how hard it was to get a hold of Feliciano. After all, the younger Italian was more oblivious than he was sometimes.
"Muy bueno!" Antonio said, clapping his hands together once in happiness. Yes, he was that happy. He led his Italian companion down the streets and within two blocks they had come to the apartment building that he stayed at. It wasn't nearly as nice as the ones downtown but it had a homeless homey air about it.
WIthout another word, Antonio opened the door and lead Romano up the stairs to Apartment 23a. There, he used his key to open the door to a comfortably large apartment. It had been made for two people but Antonio had yet to find a roommate so the rooms were sparsely furnished. He pointed to one of the doors that was shut and spoke up again.
"Thats my room. You can sleep in there and I'll take the couch" He said with a smile, knowing that Romano had probably disliked the idea of having a siesta at someone else's place and would like having a door that locked between him and anyone who happened to come for a visit.
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Stepping into the apartment Romano suddenly became very grateful for the room he'd been able to share with his brother, even if it was through under-the-table means. He let out a noticeable sigh of relief upon entry, the evident lack of a roommate meant Antonio had the whole apartment to himself, which meant more room for Romano.
Had the other been so daft as to suggest they *share* a bed, Romano probably would have cursed and left then and there.
Not only that but, the bedroom had a *lock.* Once he managed to block out all external reminders that he was not home, he would be able to sleep comfortably.
Placing a hand on the doorknob he turned to glance back at his friend; he had no idea how long Antonio had been working straight for, but the man must've been a wreck.
Too exhausted to snap or even consider treating him with conscious disdain- for even Romano was able to acknowledge the care and self-sacrifice that went into that evening- he simply dropped his head and sighed.
"...Thanks..."
And before the Spaniard could reply or -godforbid- hug him, Romano had disappeared behind the door.
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Now that Antonio was back at home he had let go of any act of being awake. His eyelids drooped and his wide smile had shifted to a neutral one. Still on the happier side of neutral, but the same nonetheless. When he caught the small thanks from the younger man his toothy smile returned and he felt a wave of happiness rush through him. Thankfully for Romano he had already darted into the room and Antonio didn't have a chance to tackle the younger italian into a bone crushing embrace.
He had heard that word maybe once or twice before in the entire time he had known Romano (at least that he could remember and you would remember something as important as that) and that simple fact made it all the much better.
"Nada por un amigo" Antonio said with a content smile on his face. The spanish man kicked off his shoes and grabbed his phone from the table to check for messages. He quickly set an alarm for five and then set the phone back on the table to curl up on the couch.
He didn't need an alarm, naturally waking up after an hour or two, but sets it just as backup. After all, he has class at six and he would hate to miss it. The tall man moved his arm up beside his head and used it as a makeshift pillow, falling asleep almost instantly.
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The layout was spacious, and the bed large enough for him to sprawl out on. If only the entire room didn't smell sickeningly like Antonio it would have been perfect.
Exhaustion hit him like a truck, and Romano stumbled over to collapse on the bed, removing his shirt in the process. The idea of removing everything in a bed and room that wasn't his own bothered him slightly, opting to at least keep his boxers on. After all it wasn't as hot as it used to get in Italy.
Curled up underneath the blankets he averted his gaze sluggishly towards the door; he hadn't locked it. For someone so influenced by the mafia it was not a habit he was proud of, but at home the front door was always locked and there was often only Feliciano around (when he wasn't working of course) so he had no reason to bother. If the mafia was on your side, there was very little you had to worry about.
Besides, if anyone visited they'd run into Antonio first-no one would bother him.
And with that final thought in mind Romano rolled over and fell asleep.
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Something that he would pay dearly for later.
The Spaniard shifted from the couch, rising to a standing position and rubbing his eye sleepily. He didn't even bother opening his eyes all the way as he zombie walked shuffled into his bedroom, finding the door unlocked as usual and knowing the layout well enough that he wouldn't run into anything. When he caught sight of someone sleeping in his bed he immediately remembered who it was.
Antonio's gaze traveled from the lump on his bed to the couch behind him multiple times as his brain tried to decide just what exactly he should do. His need for a good deep sleep overruled any hesitance however and he shifted into the bedroom, closing the door behind him silently and heading over to the bed and climbing into it. He curled up under the thick comforter with his back to Romano.
As if that was going to help.
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And um...how *clothed* is Antonio? XD]
Romano didn't hear the door open, or feel the bed sink as Antonio slipped in. The blankets were much too warm and the pillow much too soft for his conscious to wake upon such trivial things.
It wasn't until he shifted, rolling over and stretching his arms out in his sleep, that his mind finally registered that something was, well, wrong.
Instead of grasping at air, or a further portion of mattress or blanket, Romano's fingertips found themselves trailing a smooth, warm surface, one his subconscious pigeonholed as a body.
A body that wasn't his own...
Sluggishly Romano pried his eyes open, allowing them to adjust to the evening light as he took in everything around him; the room, the smell, the Spaniard in the bed..
Wait. He jolted, stammering as he scrambled back out of bed. "W-w-what the fuck are you doing!? You god damn creep!"
Without hesitation he found his clothes and his shoes, any and all appreciation for Antonio long gone.
the Italian was thankful that he had chosen to keep his boxers on.
Pulling his shirt and pants back on Romano began to accuse and insult Antonio in a string of fast Italian phrases, somehow managing to throw his arms around in extravagant gestures as he did. Once dressed he reverted back to a language the other would clearly understand.
"Bastard! I can't believe i fell for that bullshit generosity...I feel fucking sick! Ugh..."
And with that the front door slammed shut and he was gone.
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Spain blinked sleepily as he was yelled at, sitting in the bed with his hands on his lap. His brain couldn't focus on what was happening until Romano started to get dressed and then Antonio started to freak out.
"Gah! I'm sorry Romano! I didn't mean too! The couch was too small and I couldn't sleep and I'm sorry!" He rambled completely in spanish, but his pleading fell on deaf ears as the other man slammed the door. He felt a wave of sadness wash over him and he had to bite his lip to fight back the tears. This had to be one of the worst days of his life. And it wasn't even over yet. He flopped back onto the bed, managing to hit his had rather hard on the headboard and feeling a shot of pain run down his neck and spine.
"hijo de puta. I hate my life" Antonio yelped as he clutched the back of his head in pain and clenched his eyes shut tightly. He curled up on the bed in a ball, pulling his knees to his chest.
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