Good Luck Moving On; Prussia/Romano: Chapter One
Title: "Good Luck Moving On"
Author: einannanhalling ( einwritting )
Characters/Pairings: Mainly; Prussia/S.Italy
Rating: PG-13 (thus far)
Warnings: None
Summary: Gilbert's been living with his brother for the last six months, signed up for an anger management class he doesn't need and watching his younger brother get things under control better than he could hope to. After spending a day out job searching an offer from an old friend (Antonio Carriedo) to come and stay at his apartment leads to interesting developments.
Note: I was linked to this community by the lovely m_dono ! Thank you once again for fueling my Prussia/Romano fire and all your help! <3
Beta'd by; zazzy
There was an odd look on his face.
Not to say his brother didn't often have a bizarre look plastered on his face, but today Gilbert was looking moderately stranger in comparison. Ludwig let the top of his newspaper fall away from him, providing enough room for him to keep an eye on the shorter man currently slipping through the front door with his briefcase dangling haphazardly from the fingertips of his left hand. He stepped to the left and the case swung the right, he wobbled to the right and the case bumped into his thigh with a dull thud. Gilbert walked, stumbled rather, in some sort of stupor until he'd gotten to the living room.
Quickly Ludwig's eyes checked him over. The stumbling was obvious enough, but the red blotches that often speckled his brothers face when he'd taken one too many beers was not present. Not drunk then. Drugs just didn't seem reasonable at all. He'd only ever smoked when he was nineteen and even then he'd been so paranoid about getting caught he never enjoyed the high. Then again he'd taken 'E' at a club because someone insisted it was a sweet tart. Ludwig spent the night with him in the hospital when it turned out the pill had been laced with something from a bad seller and left Gilbert not only delusional, but he'd been screaming that his chest felt like someone had poured acid down his throat. Ludwig still chalked that whole situation up to his brother being an idiot, considering to this day he swears he's allergic to sweet tart candy even after it had been explained that was not the case.
They both hated hospitals, so he trusted that Gilbert wouldn't land them in one a second time. All they had were bad memories and even worse nights spent sitting in waiting room chairs together only to be told bad news. Slowly Ludwig lowered the paper to the table to fully look at his brother who only flashed him a smile and dropped down on the couch so hard it slid against the grey tiles beneath it.
"Wa-" he began, but was interrupted by a loud dramatic sigh.
"I am in love."
It came out as a long exaggerated sigh, followed by the sound of his briefcase falling beside the couch. This was far more alarming than anything Ludwig had been anticipating. He wasn't sure what Gilbert needed a briefcase for when all he'd been doing was going to job interviews and picking up applications, but he'd gladly lent his old one out to his brother when it was promised that today was the day he'd come back with a job.
It had been six months since Gilbert moved into his brother's one room apartment. He'd lost his job because of a spell of something he could only classify as lesser depression. There was very little that he knew as far as the specifics went, but the two brothers didn't often contact one another so he hadn't the slightest clue that his sibling had lost his job until he'd gotten a call from the owner of "Personalized Gifting Store" informing him that the next time he suggests a salesman to them, they will tear the application up on spot.
That rubbed him the wrong way, but what really took his greatest will was when they sent a receipt to his home with the intention of having him pay for all the damages his elder brother caused and could not pay for himself. Money was one thing, but when he'd seen the total sum he could figure the entire store had been torn down- He decided there needed to be an intervention.
Ludwig expected he'd have to fish his brother out of the room he lived out of the past two years, nestled at the back of Mr. Fritz's (an old man who'd looked to rent out a room in hopes of filling his wallet and a space left by his passing wife and now grown kids) home, but he opened it without a fight. A week later Gilbert was living off of Ludwig's couch and signed up for anger management classes he didn't need thanks to the younger German.
Things were at a stand still for the next couple months, but now there was movement, but Ludwig wasn't sure if it was for the better or not just yet.
"Are you?"
"Oh yeah, Christ, the manager of Paco's Tacos is so hot, Lud! I hope I get that job. She could pay me minimum wage and it'd be worth it. She's got this thing about her, I'm telling you." He waved his hands above his head as if he were describing a lost treasure and not a woman. "Picture it. Long brown hair, blue eyes, kinda pale, but damn she makes it look good. This ass like it was cut out of a playboy and some idiot slapped skirt on it. I love her, man."
Ludwig felt his shoulders slump, the tension melting out of them.
"Right, and what about the other jobs?"
"Boring stuff. I ran into Antonio at the gas station though. He was filling up his bike tires- said something about a nail."
Ludwig picked up the paper again, this time shifting to a different page. Antonio was a good friend as far as he was concerned, the guy nearly lost his house trying to help pay off Gilbert's debts while he and Ludwig lived separately. It was hard to say if Gilbert just wasn't aware of how much of a help he was, or if he was simply taking advantage of an overly willing friend.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, he's going to let me stay at his apartment so I can give you some space."
"Space? I already told you," The paper hit the table again, "I'm fine with you staying here."
"Yeah, but who wants their twenty-something brother stinking up their pad right?"
"That's n-"
"And your, uh... other half, or whatever, is kind of loud. Maybe it's a college kid thing, but the sex can't be that good."
Suddenly Ludwig could feel a severe heat in the tips of his ears that streaked across his cheeks and nose.
Feliciano.
He met the boy in his marketing class last semester. Taking classes in between working at the company their father left him gave him a foot up in the world of kids who just had old money dropped in their laps. He knew what to do with it. How to save it. How to make it grow and more importantly how to make the money work to make more.
"...W-well, I just-"
"Anyway, I'm movin' out friday. You'll probably be at the corp, but it's not like we won't see each other! Maybe I'll get you free tacos once me and Ms. Manager are married."
"Right. Don't forget there are other jobs you have up as options."
"Mhmm, but all I see are those curves Lud~"
-
Gilbert only moved thrice in his lifetime. Once after he moved away from home to live with Fritz, then into Ludwig's, and now moving into Antonio's. Which he hadn't finished yet so he counted it more as two and a half really, or at least that was what he decided as he hauled the duffle bag up the narrow staircase leading to the second floor apartment. One side was against the wall of the house, the other was lined with white lanai that looked nice during the day because the sun streaked through the leaves of the ancient tomato plants that slunk their vines through the diamond gaps, but at night it looked rather creepy.
He picked up his pace, walking backward up the wooden steps to get better leverage on the bag in order to pull it to the top, deciding if he ever moved again, he'd do it when the sun was out. The last three steps felt like a hike up the highest mountain, but he'd made it, and with a sigh straightened up and knocked on the green door.
A green door on a yellow house. That was kind of strange. And why would the owner bother to paint the tenants door on the side of the house, anyway? Then again, why would they grow the tomato rain forest in their back yard?
"Yo! Antonio! It's not getting any cooler out here!"
"Who is that?" It was a voice, but it wasn't Antonio's, rough and low.
"O-oh! Gilbert is living with me today!"
"Gil- is it that-," he could hear footsteps, probably Antonio's making their way to the front door, "the other Potato? D-don't open the door moron I don't have pants o-"
The door swung open, cutting the other person short, and there Antonio stood in nothing but his boxers and a grin. There was a mark on his collarbone, punctuated with slight indents that couldn't have been anything but teeth along the outermost rim. Gilbert nearly tumbled backwards and right through the tomato vines, but caught his balance in time to catch the seething look he was receiving from the brunette curled up on the couch.
"H-hey, man... uh, if you're busy, I can just come back la-"
"Do that."
"No! No! It's fine! My home is yours!"
He stepped aside, sweeping an arm out as if he were showing off a kings quarters instead of a small apartment.
It was nice, though quaint really was a better word for it. The walls were a light yellow that, even at night, seemed to make everything a shade brighter. The white leather couch, that Gilbert was rather glad to call his new home, pillowed beneath the weight of Antonio's guest, giving away just how terribly comfortable it must have been. The television wasn't as big as the one back at Ludwig's, just a small desktop plasma with messy x-box wires hooked into the side. Yellow, white, red. Just past the couch was the island counter top that split the living room and the kitchen that was so cleverly painted an accenting blue in comparison to the rest of the house.
"I like the sound of that. Do I get to share your couch mate too?"
A mortified squeak left the man's mouth, but Antonio was quick to laugh and verify that no, his couch mate was not as quickly shared as his house.
"Ah, that's Romano!"
"And I don't get fucking shared, thank you," he grumbled as he lifted himself from the couch, hoping over the back and making a quick line for the bedroom door just behind it to Gilbert's right.
The spaniard just smiled, picking up the duffle bag and dragging it into the apartment as he explained that the side table next to the couch had drawers for him to keep his clothes in- and the coat closet was empty other than his own coat so that was fine to use, too. The bathroom was his to use whenever he wanted, and so were the soaps and toothpaste- just not the bath salts. Those were Lovino's and, for one reason or another, he was very protective of them.
"He's never used them though...so I'm not sure what they're for..."
"Beats me. I'm not fucking him."
Antonio was silent for a moment or two before he laughed nervously and continued to explain the rest of the house. The kitchen was usually full of food, but he liked to eat certain things certain days, so if Gilbert wanted his own food he should say something so he could pick it up. His bedroom was always open- unless it wasn't. Which it wasn't at the moment. That was where the tour ended.
"I'll get you a key for the front door tomorrow when I get back from work, alright?"
"Yeah, that sounds fine. Thanks again, 'Toni for letting me stay with you. I needed to get out of there."
"Were you not getting along?"
"Nah, nothing like that. I love the guy, he's my brother, but being around him just sort of reminds me that he's 'the good kid,' you know?"
That was when Romano piped up from Antonio's bedroom, a thud that sounded like a shoe hitting the door.
"Oi! Sob story on your own time, asshole!"
"Lovi, that's not very c-"
"Go get 'im. I bought my iPod so it won't bother me one bit."
The brunette smiled, ducking his head as a thank you, before turning back to his bedroom door. He wasn't sure why he'd looked, but Gilbert's eyes glanced past Antonio and to the man laid back against the headboard of the bed, his head left to fall back and his fingers-
The door snapped shut behind Antonio.
After a moment or two, the German moved to fetch his iPod from the front pocket of his bag, placed a bud in each ear and moved on to put his things away. It was strange, but he liked how the inside of the table still smelled like new wood. The closet still smelt like new paint too which made him wonder if the landlord had let Antonio redecorate everything recently.
He moved onto the fridge with held some sot of Goya fruit drink and the rest... spinach, tomatoes, apples, cucumbers, balsamic, and some kind of cheese. Nothing all that interesting, save a bottle labeled aloe juice, but he wasn't about to drink it if he put it on his sunburn. His search turned up nothing of interest, so instead he fetched a glass of water and laid down on the couch, snatched up the remote and started to press through channels on mute before drifting asleep with the low hum of his ipod in his ears.
-
Gilbert wasn't all too sure as to what time it was, but it was the click of the bedroom door that had managed to rouse him from his slumber on the most comfortable couch he'd ever had the privilege to sleep on. He was surprised he'd heard it until he realized the earphones for his ipod had been hanging off the side of the couch, probably suppling the dust bunnies beneath it with an interesting mix of music. Dark eyes slid to half mast catching a glimpse of the body shifting through the shadows at the back of the couch, Gilbert pretended to sleep watching as Romano stepped out from behind the couch and stepped into the kitchen.
Their eyes met, but only Gilbert knew to Romano it would look like he was fast asleep. The moonlight shone through the window over the kitchen sink, backlighting the other man as he moved to get a glass and then to the fridge to fill it with water. He was trying to stay quiet and Gilbert had to give him credit because he hadn't heard much from him- save for the low, slow drag of breath that came along with severe concentration, that is until he tripped on something behind the counter and slammed his hands down on the counter.
"Motherfuckingsonoffabitch!"
Gilbert snorted, opening his eyes all the way and only smiled more when he saw the distraught look on the other's face, his eyesight going white as the TV flickered off to his right.
"Stubbed my foot."
"Oh yeah? I couldn't tell with all that sonoffabitching going on."
Romano stepped out from behind the island, bringing his glass of water with him to the living room. The german sat up now, pulling his legs to his side of the couch in order to give the brunette some space to sit, but once he took his spot at the opposite end of the couch, Gilbert just dropped his feet back down into his lap.
A dark look was shot his way, but that didn't change much of anything as far as their position was concerned. His foot rest just rolled his eyes and glared back at the television, his face lighting up with when a particularly lit scene flashed by.
"These soaps are always such shit." The other man turned to Gilbert, his eyebrow furrowed in what could have been annoyance, but when the right light from the TV passed by, it looked more like he tasted something gross and couldn't shake it, "I mean. I can tell you everything that will happen for the rest of this episode right now."
"Well, don't let me stop you. Only you have to promise to read my palm when your done telling the future."
Romano lifted his nose at him before turning back to the television, raising a hand like he were swearing on some sort of invisible bible, not that he would judging by the cross hanging against his chest.
"She dumps him, he runs off in a fury, gets on his 'awesome' bike, gets hit by a truck or something like that. Then she feels like crap for the rest of the series- or at least until she meets Dr. Dreamy who tries to save this dumped guy's life. They do something even God would frown on and then fin."
"Sounds about right. How long do you think I'll live?"
"I give you five minutes if you keep acting like a fucking prick."
"Cheater. You didn't even look at my palm yet."
A hand was instantly snapped out from Romano's side, the look on his face nothing short of impatient. For a moment, Gilbert found that the color in the other's eyes was a fascinating gold when the television drama flicked it's attention to white hospital room that housed the dumped guy gone to road kill, and it was those eyes that him pinned to his spot on the couch.
"Fucking give me your hand, you damn cabbage."
"R-right, whatever," he grumbled dropping his hand palm up into Romano's. Tan fingers slid along the lines of his palms, tracing things here and there. "Have you done this before?"
"Of course not. No one asks me this kind of weird stuff. I know those three line things."
"Oh, like money, life, and that sappy one?"
Gold eyes turned blue by the TV's light flicked up to look at Gilbert an annoyed gaze behind them.
"Yeah and your lifeline is pretty short." he mumbled dragging his pointer finger along his palm.
"You're joking. Wait, yeah it is... how long do you think Madam Future?"
"I don't fucking know!" he snapped back, but caught himself with just how loud his voice was and spoke softer this time, "Maybe sixty?"
"Huh. What about money?"
"I don't even see that on here."
"Figures."
They were silent for a minute or two and, just as Romano moved to drop Gilbert's hand unceremoniously from his own, the German protested.
"Sappy one. You forgot that one."
"Uh... that's... not on here either. Looks like your no good at that either."
It was silent again and he was finally successful in shaking the couch dwellers hand this time.
"So uh, why are you staying with Antonio anyway?"
"Well, you said it yourself. I'm broke. Single. And crashing on my little brothers couch is only cool for the first week."
"You don't get along then."
"Nah, we get along. I just... it's not really the best feeling when your twenty-one year old brother rules the world and your sitting on his couch."
The look on Romano's face seemed to press for more.
"Uh... he's like the better brother, y'know?"
"All too well. I'm Italian you know. Full blood, none of that 'would be' bullshit. Respect is a big deal with everyone and you need to earn that kind of thing. My brother, Feliciano, he doesn't even need to try, and for some reason everyone just needs to fucking- fucking worship the ground he walks on! Even Antonio."
"Wh-"
"They're always, 'Oh Feli, how cute,' 'Oh Feli, you can draw,' 'Oh Feli, blahblahblah.' Don't get me wrong, we run deeper than blood, but I can't fucking stand listening to that shit all day. I try! I try so hard and i get it done mediocre at best, but shouldn't I get something for just trying that hard?"
Gilbert wasn't sure what to feel, or how to react to something like that. It wasn't that he didn't understand, it was more that he could almost feel the tension burning up from his shoulders like steaming water and he didn't want to set off a ticking bomb.
"Hey."
"Now what, potato-fuck?"
"Gimme your hand."
"Oh, what are you a palm reader now?" He grumbled, but held his hand out all the same, his shoulder curling as Gilbert dragged his thumb over a crease along his thumb.
"Just returning the favor," the smirk on Gilbert's lips visibly sent some sort of emotion across the other's face, but it flashed into distorted pictures as the beginning of the next show began on the ignored television set. "So, you're going to live a while it looks like. Maybe until you're 90, or something like 105."
"Smart ass."
"You and 'Toni are obviously doing great. Holy shit are you in the mafia or something?! Look at this line!"
Romano pinched Gilbert's big toe between his thumb and pointer finger, shooting him a nasty look. The palm reader didn't budge, he only held the hand at eye level, getting a good scope of the contours of the other hand. A finger stretched, moving to poke him in the mouth, it's owner staring back at the television again, a satisfied smirk on his face as the heroine kissed Dr.Dreamy. Slowly his lips parted a fingernail scraping against his front teeth before Romano turned to face him, those eyes moving down to where Gilbert bit the tip of his finger, soft at first then hard.
"Ow, you sonnofabitch!"
"Dom popk m' im de mouf."
"Don't fucking put my finger in your mouth!"
The italian leaned forward, hovering over the bottom half of Gilbert's legs, his free hand moving to grab the muscle just above his knee. The pressure sent a sudden, unwelcome surge that felt like he'd bit into a 9-volt battery pushed a yelp past his lips. Romano coolly removed his finger, smirking through his bangs.
"Idiot."
Gilbert only smirked in return, playing as if he was totally unfazed by the charge still swimming around his knee, and instead sat up fully to meet the other eye to eye before digging his fingers into Romano's side. This elected an interesting sort of yelp, sending the the brunette curling into himself, his forehead resting on the blonde's knee as he squirmed, before biting down on his calf. Gilbert narrowed his eyes half heartedly trying to shake him off, but all it managed to do was send his sparring partner off the side of the couch and onto the floor. He laughed quietly, the sound more like a light hiss, and slunk down to the floor.
"I think that means I win," he drawled moving to sit on the Italian's stomach his hands pressing his shoulders down into the wood floor. The look he got back sent his gut into warm coils. Defiant, but there was something lurking behind the gold flecked with scenes from "E.R Nurses of Gregory Platts Hospital." It was a terrible show. Gilbert watched it once when he's been hit with a terrible stroke of insomnia, but it looked a world better reflected like that.
"Fuck you, cazzo." The words held no venom.
"Promise?"
They stayed that way, neither giving the other a inch for potential victory. As if on a cue, Romano slid his fingers up into Gilbert's hair as the German leaned down to get a better look at the scene playing on the screen just over his shoulder.
"Lovino?" It was Spain's voice, drifting in a sleepy tone through the closed bedroom door, and it was then that the two of them nearly jumped clear off of the floor. Romano stood first, looking lost in a house he knew very well as he turned his attention to the bedroom and Gilbert only sat up pressing his back against the couch.
"Antonio," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he jutted a thumb to where his friend's voice was coming. "Uh, poor guy is probably lonely in there, huh?"
"Yeah, right. Anyway, I was right about the show."
"Well, you tell the future."
"Smart ass."
With that, the italian slipped back into the door he'd come out of, leaving Gilbert to the empty living room and the loud thrumming through his ears. Slowly he reached a hand out to his side, patting the floor until he found his earphones and promptly stuffed them back in his ears. The blond got to his feet and sunk back into the couch tossing the blanket over him, an ache settled low in his stomach. The room suddenly felt too empty, and the nurses on the television screen hadn't offered much help in alleviating that feeling, so he turned to the remote and turned the television off, his eyes taking a moment to adjust as all the light left was a single wink on the screen.
---
Chapter two snippits are posted on my writing journal, but I'm not finished with it yet. Should be done soon though!
Author: einannanhalling ( einwritting )
Characters/Pairings: Mainly; Prussia/S.Italy
Rating: PG-13 (thus far)
Warnings: None
Summary: Gilbert's been living with his brother for the last six months, signed up for an anger management class he doesn't need and watching his younger brother get things under control better than he could hope to. After spending a day out job searching an offer from an old friend (Antonio Carriedo) to come and stay at his apartment leads to interesting developments.
Note: I was linked to this community by the lovely m_dono ! Thank you once again for fueling my Prussia/Romano fire and all your help! <3
Beta'd by; zazzy
There was an odd look on his face.
Not to say his brother didn't often have a bizarre look plastered on his face, but today Gilbert was looking moderately stranger in comparison. Ludwig let the top of his newspaper fall away from him, providing enough room for him to keep an eye on the shorter man currently slipping through the front door with his briefcase dangling haphazardly from the fingertips of his left hand. He stepped to the left and the case swung the right, he wobbled to the right and the case bumped into his thigh with a dull thud. Gilbert walked, stumbled rather, in some sort of stupor until he'd gotten to the living room.
Quickly Ludwig's eyes checked him over. The stumbling was obvious enough, but the red blotches that often speckled his brothers face when he'd taken one too many beers was not present. Not drunk then. Drugs just didn't seem reasonable at all. He'd only ever smoked when he was nineteen and even then he'd been so paranoid about getting caught he never enjoyed the high. Then again he'd taken 'E' at a club because someone insisted it was a sweet tart. Ludwig spent the night with him in the hospital when it turned out the pill had been laced with something from a bad seller and left Gilbert not only delusional, but he'd been screaming that his chest felt like someone had poured acid down his throat. Ludwig still chalked that whole situation up to his brother being an idiot, considering to this day he swears he's allergic to sweet tart candy even after it had been explained that was not the case.
They both hated hospitals, so he trusted that Gilbert wouldn't land them in one a second time. All they had were bad memories and even worse nights spent sitting in waiting room chairs together only to be told bad news. Slowly Ludwig lowered the paper to the table to fully look at his brother who only flashed him a smile and dropped down on the couch so hard it slid against the grey tiles beneath it.
"Wa-" he began, but was interrupted by a loud dramatic sigh.
"I am in love."
It came out as a long exaggerated sigh, followed by the sound of his briefcase falling beside the couch. This was far more alarming than anything Ludwig had been anticipating. He wasn't sure what Gilbert needed a briefcase for when all he'd been doing was going to job interviews and picking up applications, but he'd gladly lent his old one out to his brother when it was promised that today was the day he'd come back with a job.
It had been six months since Gilbert moved into his brother's one room apartment. He'd lost his job because of a spell of something he could only classify as lesser depression. There was very little that he knew as far as the specifics went, but the two brothers didn't often contact one another so he hadn't the slightest clue that his sibling had lost his job until he'd gotten a call from the owner of "Personalized Gifting Store" informing him that the next time he suggests a salesman to them, they will tear the application up on spot.
That rubbed him the wrong way, but what really took his greatest will was when they sent a receipt to his home with the intention of having him pay for all the damages his elder brother caused and could not pay for himself. Money was one thing, but when he'd seen the total sum he could figure the entire store had been torn down- He decided there needed to be an intervention.
Ludwig expected he'd have to fish his brother out of the room he lived out of the past two years, nestled at the back of Mr. Fritz's (an old man who'd looked to rent out a room in hopes of filling his wallet and a space left by his passing wife and now grown kids) home, but he opened it without a fight. A week later Gilbert was living off of Ludwig's couch and signed up for anger management classes he didn't need thanks to the younger German.
Things were at a stand still for the next couple months, but now there was movement, but Ludwig wasn't sure if it was for the better or not just yet.
"Are you?"
"Oh yeah, Christ, the manager of Paco's Tacos is so hot, Lud! I hope I get that job. She could pay me minimum wage and it'd be worth it. She's got this thing about her, I'm telling you." He waved his hands above his head as if he were describing a lost treasure and not a woman. "Picture it. Long brown hair, blue eyes, kinda pale, but damn she makes it look good. This ass like it was cut out of a playboy and some idiot slapped skirt on it. I love her, man."
Ludwig felt his shoulders slump, the tension melting out of them.
"Right, and what about the other jobs?"
"Boring stuff. I ran into Antonio at the gas station though. He was filling up his bike tires- said something about a nail."
Ludwig picked up the paper again, this time shifting to a different page. Antonio was a good friend as far as he was concerned, the guy nearly lost his house trying to help pay off Gilbert's debts while he and Ludwig lived separately. It was hard to say if Gilbert just wasn't aware of how much of a help he was, or if he was simply taking advantage of an overly willing friend.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, he's going to let me stay at his apartment so I can give you some space."
"Space? I already told you," The paper hit the table again, "I'm fine with you staying here."
"Yeah, but who wants their twenty-something brother stinking up their pad right?"
"That's n-"
"And your, uh... other half, or whatever, is kind of loud. Maybe it's a college kid thing, but the sex can't be that good."
Suddenly Ludwig could feel a severe heat in the tips of his ears that streaked across his cheeks and nose.
Feliciano.
He met the boy in his marketing class last semester. Taking classes in between working at the company their father left him gave him a foot up in the world of kids who just had old money dropped in their laps. He knew what to do with it. How to save it. How to make it grow and more importantly how to make the money work to make more.
"...W-well, I just-"
"Anyway, I'm movin' out friday. You'll probably be at the corp, but it's not like we won't see each other! Maybe I'll get you free tacos once me and Ms. Manager are married."
"Right. Don't forget there are other jobs you have up as options."
"Mhmm, but all I see are those curves Lud~"
-
Gilbert only moved thrice in his lifetime. Once after he moved away from home to live with Fritz, then into Ludwig's, and now moving into Antonio's. Which he hadn't finished yet so he counted it more as two and a half really, or at least that was what he decided as he hauled the duffle bag up the narrow staircase leading to the second floor apartment. One side was against the wall of the house, the other was lined with white lanai that looked nice during the day because the sun streaked through the leaves of the ancient tomato plants that slunk their vines through the diamond gaps, but at night it looked rather creepy.
He picked up his pace, walking backward up the wooden steps to get better leverage on the bag in order to pull it to the top, deciding if he ever moved again, he'd do it when the sun was out. The last three steps felt like a hike up the highest mountain, but he'd made it, and with a sigh straightened up and knocked on the green door.
A green door on a yellow house. That was kind of strange. And why would the owner bother to paint the tenants door on the side of the house, anyway? Then again, why would they grow the tomato rain forest in their back yard?
"Yo! Antonio! It's not getting any cooler out here!"
"Who is that?" It was a voice, but it wasn't Antonio's, rough and low.
"O-oh! Gilbert is living with me today!"
"Gil- is it that-," he could hear footsteps, probably Antonio's making their way to the front door, "the other Potato? D-don't open the door moron I don't have pants o-"
The door swung open, cutting the other person short, and there Antonio stood in nothing but his boxers and a grin. There was a mark on his collarbone, punctuated with slight indents that couldn't have been anything but teeth along the outermost rim. Gilbert nearly tumbled backwards and right through the tomato vines, but caught his balance in time to catch the seething look he was receiving from the brunette curled up on the couch.
"H-hey, man... uh, if you're busy, I can just come back la-"
"Do that."
"No! No! It's fine! My home is yours!"
He stepped aside, sweeping an arm out as if he were showing off a kings quarters instead of a small apartment.
It was nice, though quaint really was a better word for it. The walls were a light yellow that, even at night, seemed to make everything a shade brighter. The white leather couch, that Gilbert was rather glad to call his new home, pillowed beneath the weight of Antonio's guest, giving away just how terribly comfortable it must have been. The television wasn't as big as the one back at Ludwig's, just a small desktop plasma with messy x-box wires hooked into the side. Yellow, white, red. Just past the couch was the island counter top that split the living room and the kitchen that was so cleverly painted an accenting blue in comparison to the rest of the house.
"I like the sound of that. Do I get to share your couch mate too?"
A mortified squeak left the man's mouth, but Antonio was quick to laugh and verify that no, his couch mate was not as quickly shared as his house.
"Ah, that's Romano!"
"And I don't get fucking shared, thank you," he grumbled as he lifted himself from the couch, hoping over the back and making a quick line for the bedroom door just behind it to Gilbert's right.
The spaniard just smiled, picking up the duffle bag and dragging it into the apartment as he explained that the side table next to the couch had drawers for him to keep his clothes in- and the coat closet was empty other than his own coat so that was fine to use, too. The bathroom was his to use whenever he wanted, and so were the soaps and toothpaste- just not the bath salts. Those were Lovino's and, for one reason or another, he was very protective of them.
"He's never used them though...so I'm not sure what they're for..."
"Beats me. I'm not fucking him."
Antonio was silent for a moment or two before he laughed nervously and continued to explain the rest of the house. The kitchen was usually full of food, but he liked to eat certain things certain days, so if Gilbert wanted his own food he should say something so he could pick it up. His bedroom was always open- unless it wasn't. Which it wasn't at the moment. That was where the tour ended.
"I'll get you a key for the front door tomorrow when I get back from work, alright?"
"Yeah, that sounds fine. Thanks again, 'Toni for letting me stay with you. I needed to get out of there."
"Were you not getting along?"
"Nah, nothing like that. I love the guy, he's my brother, but being around him just sort of reminds me that he's 'the good kid,' you know?"
That was when Romano piped up from Antonio's bedroom, a thud that sounded like a shoe hitting the door.
"Oi! Sob story on your own time, asshole!"
"Lovi, that's not very c-"
"Go get 'im. I bought my iPod so it won't bother me one bit."
The brunette smiled, ducking his head as a thank you, before turning back to his bedroom door. He wasn't sure why he'd looked, but Gilbert's eyes glanced past Antonio and to the man laid back against the headboard of the bed, his head left to fall back and his fingers-
The door snapped shut behind Antonio.
After a moment or two, the German moved to fetch his iPod from the front pocket of his bag, placed a bud in each ear and moved on to put his things away. It was strange, but he liked how the inside of the table still smelled like new wood. The closet still smelt like new paint too which made him wonder if the landlord had let Antonio redecorate everything recently.
He moved onto the fridge with held some sot of Goya fruit drink and the rest... spinach, tomatoes, apples, cucumbers, balsamic, and some kind of cheese. Nothing all that interesting, save a bottle labeled aloe juice, but he wasn't about to drink it if he put it on his sunburn. His search turned up nothing of interest, so instead he fetched a glass of water and laid down on the couch, snatched up the remote and started to press through channels on mute before drifting asleep with the low hum of his ipod in his ears.
-
Gilbert wasn't all too sure as to what time it was, but it was the click of the bedroom door that had managed to rouse him from his slumber on the most comfortable couch he'd ever had the privilege to sleep on. He was surprised he'd heard it until he realized the earphones for his ipod had been hanging off the side of the couch, probably suppling the dust bunnies beneath it with an interesting mix of music. Dark eyes slid to half mast catching a glimpse of the body shifting through the shadows at the back of the couch, Gilbert pretended to sleep watching as Romano stepped out from behind the couch and stepped into the kitchen.
Their eyes met, but only Gilbert knew to Romano it would look like he was fast asleep. The moonlight shone through the window over the kitchen sink, backlighting the other man as he moved to get a glass and then to the fridge to fill it with water. He was trying to stay quiet and Gilbert had to give him credit because he hadn't heard much from him- save for the low, slow drag of breath that came along with severe concentration, that is until he tripped on something behind the counter and slammed his hands down on the counter.
"Motherfuckingsonoffabitch!"
Gilbert snorted, opening his eyes all the way and only smiled more when he saw the distraught look on the other's face, his eyesight going white as the TV flickered off to his right.
"Stubbed my foot."
"Oh yeah? I couldn't tell with all that sonoffabitching going on."
Romano stepped out from behind the island, bringing his glass of water with him to the living room. The german sat up now, pulling his legs to his side of the couch in order to give the brunette some space to sit, but once he took his spot at the opposite end of the couch, Gilbert just dropped his feet back down into his lap.
A dark look was shot his way, but that didn't change much of anything as far as their position was concerned. His foot rest just rolled his eyes and glared back at the television, his face lighting up with when a particularly lit scene flashed by.
"These soaps are always such shit." The other man turned to Gilbert, his eyebrow furrowed in what could have been annoyance, but when the right light from the TV passed by, it looked more like he tasted something gross and couldn't shake it, "I mean. I can tell you everything that will happen for the rest of this episode right now."
"Well, don't let me stop you. Only you have to promise to read my palm when your done telling the future."
Romano lifted his nose at him before turning back to the television, raising a hand like he were swearing on some sort of invisible bible, not that he would judging by the cross hanging against his chest.
"She dumps him, he runs off in a fury, gets on his 'awesome' bike, gets hit by a truck or something like that. Then she feels like crap for the rest of the series- or at least until she meets Dr. Dreamy who tries to save this dumped guy's life. They do something even God would frown on and then fin."
"Sounds about right. How long do you think I'll live?"
"I give you five minutes if you keep acting like a fucking prick."
"Cheater. You didn't even look at my palm yet."
A hand was instantly snapped out from Romano's side, the look on his face nothing short of impatient. For a moment, Gilbert found that the color in the other's eyes was a fascinating gold when the television drama flicked it's attention to white hospital room that housed the dumped guy gone to road kill, and it was those eyes that him pinned to his spot on the couch.
"Fucking give me your hand, you damn cabbage."
"R-right, whatever," he grumbled dropping his hand palm up into Romano's. Tan fingers slid along the lines of his palms, tracing things here and there. "Have you done this before?"
"Of course not. No one asks me this kind of weird stuff. I know those three line things."
"Oh, like money, life, and that sappy one?"
Gold eyes turned blue by the TV's light flicked up to look at Gilbert an annoyed gaze behind them.
"Yeah and your lifeline is pretty short." he mumbled dragging his pointer finger along his palm.
"You're joking. Wait, yeah it is... how long do you think Madam Future?"
"I don't fucking know!" he snapped back, but caught himself with just how loud his voice was and spoke softer this time, "Maybe sixty?"
"Huh. What about money?"
"I don't even see that on here."
"Figures."
They were silent for a minute or two and, just as Romano moved to drop Gilbert's hand unceremoniously from his own, the German protested.
"Sappy one. You forgot that one."
"Uh... that's... not on here either. Looks like your no good at that either."
It was silent again and he was finally successful in shaking the couch dwellers hand this time.
"So uh, why are you staying with Antonio anyway?"
"Well, you said it yourself. I'm broke. Single. And crashing on my little brothers couch is only cool for the first week."
"You don't get along then."
"Nah, we get along. I just... it's not really the best feeling when your twenty-one year old brother rules the world and your sitting on his couch."
The look on Romano's face seemed to press for more.
"Uh... he's like the better brother, y'know?"
"All too well. I'm Italian you know. Full blood, none of that 'would be' bullshit. Respect is a big deal with everyone and you need to earn that kind of thing. My brother, Feliciano, he doesn't even need to try, and for some reason everyone just needs to fucking- fucking worship the ground he walks on! Even Antonio."
"Wh-"
"They're always, 'Oh Feli, how cute,' 'Oh Feli, you can draw,' 'Oh Feli, blahblahblah.' Don't get me wrong, we run deeper than blood, but I can't fucking stand listening to that shit all day. I try! I try so hard and i get it done mediocre at best, but shouldn't I get something for just trying that hard?"
Gilbert wasn't sure what to feel, or how to react to something like that. It wasn't that he didn't understand, it was more that he could almost feel the tension burning up from his shoulders like steaming water and he didn't want to set off a ticking bomb.
"Hey."
"Now what, potato-fuck?"
"Gimme your hand."
"Oh, what are you a palm reader now?" He grumbled, but held his hand out all the same, his shoulder curling as Gilbert dragged his thumb over a crease along his thumb.
"Just returning the favor," the smirk on Gilbert's lips visibly sent some sort of emotion across the other's face, but it flashed into distorted pictures as the beginning of the next show began on the ignored television set. "So, you're going to live a while it looks like. Maybe until you're 90, or something like 105."
"Smart ass."
"You and 'Toni are obviously doing great. Holy shit are you in the mafia or something?! Look at this line!"
Romano pinched Gilbert's big toe between his thumb and pointer finger, shooting him a nasty look. The palm reader didn't budge, he only held the hand at eye level, getting a good scope of the contours of the other hand. A finger stretched, moving to poke him in the mouth, it's owner staring back at the television again, a satisfied smirk on his face as the heroine kissed Dr.Dreamy. Slowly his lips parted a fingernail scraping against his front teeth before Romano turned to face him, those eyes moving down to where Gilbert bit the tip of his finger, soft at first then hard.
"Ow, you sonnofabitch!"
"Dom popk m' im de mouf."
"Don't fucking put my finger in your mouth!"
The italian leaned forward, hovering over the bottom half of Gilbert's legs, his free hand moving to grab the muscle just above his knee. The pressure sent a sudden, unwelcome surge that felt like he'd bit into a 9-volt battery pushed a yelp past his lips. Romano coolly removed his finger, smirking through his bangs.
"Idiot."
Gilbert only smirked in return, playing as if he was totally unfazed by the charge still swimming around his knee, and instead sat up fully to meet the other eye to eye before digging his fingers into Romano's side. This elected an interesting sort of yelp, sending the the brunette curling into himself, his forehead resting on the blonde's knee as he squirmed, before biting down on his calf. Gilbert narrowed his eyes half heartedly trying to shake him off, but all it managed to do was send his sparring partner off the side of the couch and onto the floor. He laughed quietly, the sound more like a light hiss, and slunk down to the floor.
"I think that means I win," he drawled moving to sit on the Italian's stomach his hands pressing his shoulders down into the wood floor. The look he got back sent his gut into warm coils. Defiant, but there was something lurking behind the gold flecked with scenes from "E.R Nurses of Gregory Platts Hospital." It was a terrible show. Gilbert watched it once when he's been hit with a terrible stroke of insomnia, but it looked a world better reflected like that.
"Fuck you, cazzo." The words held no venom.
"Promise?"
They stayed that way, neither giving the other a inch for potential victory. As if on a cue, Romano slid his fingers up into Gilbert's hair as the German leaned down to get a better look at the scene playing on the screen just over his shoulder.
"Lovino?" It was Spain's voice, drifting in a sleepy tone through the closed bedroom door, and it was then that the two of them nearly jumped clear off of the floor. Romano stood first, looking lost in a house he knew very well as he turned his attention to the bedroom and Gilbert only sat up pressing his back against the couch.
"Antonio," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he jutted a thumb to where his friend's voice was coming. "Uh, poor guy is probably lonely in there, huh?"
"Yeah, right. Anyway, I was right about the show."
"Well, you tell the future."
"Smart ass."
With that, the italian slipped back into the door he'd come out of, leaving Gilbert to the empty living room and the loud thrumming through his ears. Slowly he reached a hand out to his side, patting the floor until he found his earphones and promptly stuffed them back in his ears. The blond got to his feet and sunk back into the couch tossing the blanket over him, an ache settled low in his stomach. The room suddenly felt too empty, and the nurses on the television screen hadn't offered much help in alleviating that feeling, so he turned to the remote and turned the television off, his eyes taking a moment to adjust as all the light left was a single wink on the screen.
---
Chapter two snippits are posted on my writing journal, but I'm not finished with it yet. Should be done soon though!