It probably took one or two times for Antonio to remember that morning that he had to make a turn a la izquierda once leaving his bedroom, and not a la derecha. The left brought him to the grand staircase, and the right to the portrait gallery - remembering only a week ago when he and Romano had to be rescued by Feliciano on account of getting lost.
The marble floors felt cool underneath his feet. His baggy trousers tucked underneath his toes as he dragged his feet, rubbing his eyes, toward the kitchen.
But upon seeing Romano, all of his previous exhaustion was forgotten, and he was overcome by a craving for the sugary cereal Romano had just pushed aside. "Buenos días," he greeted, forgetting about the cereal for a moment enough to peer over the Italian's shoulder at the flier clutched in his fingers. He also may or may not have sneaked a kiss into Romano's hair, but any protest was out of arms' way as Antonio was already fetching a bowl from the cabinet.
Romano made a feeble attempt to swat the Spaniard away, knowing that it was a routine they'd both come to play out every morning, and even a retard like Antonio could learn to anticipate an attack like that.
Pushing the flier away so as to not attract unwanted attention to it, he watched the other move across the room from beneath his fingers, having completely neglected his own sugary mush. "Why the hell are you up so late?"
Didn't Antonio have two jobs to worry about? It wasn't often that Romano got up before him anymore.
So maybe it took Antonio a while to remember that a few feet of distance was necessary after every daring peck of his lips, but it was almost worth it to let Romano land one or two halfhearted smacks on his arm. Today, however, was not such a day, and Antonio was already poring milk onto his cereal by the time he'd remembered his schedule and the reason he was able to sleep in that morning.
"I only work the registers on Sundays," he explained with a mouthful of cereal that looked remarkably similar to Romano's abandoned mush, "My shift doesn't start until this afternoon." He had to cup his chin to keep milk from dribbling onto his shirt, but he swallowed, dabbed his face poorly with a napkin, and helped himself to another two spoonfuls in order to outdo the already disintegrating cereal.
I'm so sorry ><italian_honourSeptember 16 2010, 00:57:54 UTC
Oh right, it was Sunday. Waking up at all hours of the morning(/evening?) and then siesta'ing through the rest of the day, Romano had completely lost his concept of time. In fact the only 'calender' he seemed to work by now was through the occasional flip of the tv guide, or by gauging when Antonio and Feliciano were (or weren't) at home.
Romano pulled a face at the Spaniard's poor attempt at feeding himself, giving his own bowl one last poke before sliding it back across the table in a manner that said 'I'm done. You can clean this up now.'
"I'm going back to bed." Now get up and leave, before Toni says anything.
Comments 10
The marble floors felt cool underneath his feet. His baggy trousers tucked underneath his toes as he dragged his feet, rubbing his eyes, toward the kitchen.
But upon seeing Romano, all of his previous exhaustion was forgotten, and he was overcome by a craving for the sugary cereal Romano had just pushed aside. "Buenos días," he greeted, forgetting about the cereal for a moment enough to peer over the Italian's shoulder at the flier clutched in his fingers. He also may or may not have sneaked a kiss into Romano's hair, but any protest was out of arms' way as Antonio was already fetching a bowl from the cabinet.
Reply
Romano made a feeble attempt to swat the Spaniard away, knowing that it was a routine they'd both come to play out every morning, and even a retard like Antonio could learn to anticipate an attack like that.
Pushing the flier away so as to not attract unwanted attention to it, he watched the other move across the room from beneath his fingers, having completely neglected his own sugary mush.
"Why the hell are you up so late?"
Didn't Antonio have two jobs to worry about? It wasn't often that Romano got up before him anymore.
Reply
"I only work the registers on Sundays," he explained with a mouthful of cereal that looked remarkably similar to Romano's abandoned mush, "My shift doesn't start until this afternoon." He had to cup his chin to keep milk from dribbling onto his shirt, but he swallowed, dabbed his face poorly with a napkin, and helped himself to another two spoonfuls in order to outdo the already disintegrating cereal.
Reply
Oh right, it was Sunday. Waking up at all hours of the morning(/evening?) and then siesta'ing through the rest of the day, Romano had completely lost his concept of time.
In fact the only 'calender' he seemed to work by now was through the occasional flip of the tv guide, or by gauging when Antonio and Feliciano were (or weren't) at home.
Romano pulled a face at the Spaniard's poor attempt at feeding himself, giving his own bowl one last poke before sliding it back across the table in a manner that said 'I'm done. You can clean this up now.'
"I'm going back to bed." Now get up and leave, before Toni says anything.
Reply
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