If I am not worth the wooing...
who. Antonio and Romano.
when. August 1st, Sunday evening.
where. Antonio's abode.
what. Epic romance fail. It's the thought that counts, right?
( I surely am not worth the winning. )
when. August 1st, Sunday evening.
where. Antonio's abode.
what. Epic romance fail. It's the thought that counts, right?
( I surely am not worth the winning. )
Comments 40
As if it was ever going to be impossible to miss him (and not for the reason Antonio would have appreciated either).
Romano sighed, dragging his feet across the unnecessarily large garden and towards his- what was the Spaniard now? Best friend? Fiance? Faggot?- whatever.
However he only managed half the distance before stopping, giving Antonio's bike one long hard stare and turning around again.
"There is no way I'm riding that piece of crap."
Hell he'd buy the Spaniard a car himself if Roma wasn't so(suddenly and confusingly) against having anything to do with them. And there was no way Romano was going to spend his own money on something like that.
"I'm getting the Vespa." God damn Feliciano for taking the Ferrari.
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Romano was already half way back to the house when he looked back up.
"Ah! Wait!" He hopped off the bike and set the kickstand hurriedly before chasing after, finally catching him by his wrist. "Why can't we take the bike? You can ride the handlebars, you're not that heavy!"
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Romano stopped, inhaled, exhaled, and turned around again.
Sometimes, just sometimes, he really had to wonder why he liked put up with this guy at all.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." The verbal rejection wasn't really necessary, to be honest the look he gave Antonio said more than words ever could.
Romano jerked his arm away, "Apologies if I don't want to end up creamed across the pavement." Really, did Antonio think he was some kind of child? The bike wasn't exactly brand new and no full grown man-heavy or not- was going to fit on the handlebars. Nevermind the fact that he would never, ever allow himself to be wheeled across Liberty, humiliated like some freak-show exhibit.
It would be so much easier to ride the Vespa over, and, if Antonio wanted, he could cycle his own bike back.
Having come to a definite decision Romano pushed the Vespa out of the garage and climbed into the seat, searching his pocket for the keys.
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The bike was laying on the curb innocently, as if it hadn't just sabotaged its own credibility. Stupid, cheap kickstand.
"...safe. Yeah. Do you mind if I hide it in your garage for now?" He turned back to Romano with a sheepish grin and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't want your abuelo to throw it out."
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Even as Antonio went to move the chair for him Romano grabbed it by the back, scrapping it against the floor with such indignity that had his partner been anyone else, they would have been convinced he didn't want to be there.
God bless Antonio.
Once he sat down, Romano could no longer deny where he was or what he was doing.
This- everything- was so much more awkward than it should have been. He felt humiliated and stupid, even though they were the only ones there.
At least the food smelled good.
Trying to ignore the almost taunting heart-shaped napkin beside him, Romano leveled his gaze on the man three candles across from him who, as per usual, was still grinning like an idiot.
He, on the other hand, appeared troubled and unsure, like someone who had just sat down for a high-ranking job interview or...well...a one-sided dinner date.
The wine glass beside him had already been filled and left the breath, and Romano attended to it without hesitation.
C'mon, dammit. This is the same as take-away or anything else we've had!Only it ( ... )
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He picked at his own food listlessly, content for the moment with just watching as Romano downed his glass of wine. It was amusing how that was the first thing he went for, but Antonio suppressed the urge to laugh, more for his own safety than Romano's behalf.
"Are you thirsty?" he joked lightly, a cheeky little smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
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Romano glowered at him in response, putting the glass down once attention had been drawn to it and proceeding to poke at his food.
"It's the only way i'm going to get through this bullshit." The remark was made more to himself than Antonio; a feeble attempt to fill what would otherwise be an even more painful silence.
Idly swirling the spaghetti around his fork, Romano picked it up, watched it fall and picked it up again, before finally putting it in his mouth.
Taste, consider, swallow. (Not that he was judging the Spaniard's cooking or anything). The food was...
"This isn't that bad."
Surprised and quietly content, Romano quickly settled into eating as his mind worked on suppressing the facts of reality. More specifically, that this was meant to be a romantic dinner. And that Antonio may just have found a few redeeming qualities.
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It seemed that food really was the way to a man's heart-or at least the key to keeping his mouth shut. Antonio hadn't heard one disparaging comment from Romano yet save for the muttered one, but he wisely ignored that. In fact, the surly Italian even looked... happy for once, and it only encouraged Antonio to prop his chin on his hand and stare at him over the candles, more openly than usual if that was possible.
"So you like it?" he asked quietly. He knew better than to expect a more direct response than 'Well, it doesn't taste like shit,' but a small, pleased smile crossed his face anyway, looking tame compared to his usual obnoxious grins.
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