{merry holidays callmesmirks! i hope you enjoy this. ouo}
After many letters, e-mails and neverending phone calls, Romano Vargas had reluctantly agreed to go to Germany to spend the holidays with his long-distance boyfriend, Gilbert Beilschmidt. He had fiddled and thought on the plane ride there, unable to sit still with the anticipation. Afterall, what had started out with a mutual dislike had turnt into something more complete with webchatting and phone number exchanges. Somehow, they had ended up communicating at least once a day. They laughed, they yelled and most of all, they just fell in love.
Ridiculous. Romano knew that. In fact, he had been the one downright set against not admitting it, but he had. One day it had slipped out during one of their phonecalls (a small 'ti amo' instead of a 'buonanotte'), and he had panicked and hung up the phone. It was the first break in their communication for months. The only reason he had finally answered the phone was because he had been too tired to check the caller ID at the time, and the only reason he had not hung up immediately was because Gilbert begged him not to.
That conversation was probably their longest, and that was when Gilbert blurted how he wanted to meet him in person.
Romano had stupidly said he would come.
He sighed. He was certain that was eithre the dumbest or the smartest thing he had ever done in his life. He still had not decided which one yet.
He buckled his seatbelt as the plane dismounted. The nervousness had spread from his topsy-turvey stomach and had became a subtle fidget in his fingers. Maybe he should turn away now. He could always just not meet the German at the airport. He could always just check into a hotel and catch a plane back to Naples the next morning.
He made up all types of escape plans as he went through customs and checkout, but by the time he was standing in the lobby with rolling bag in hand, he was unable to build the courage to act out on his cowardice. He took a deep breath before moving around in search. His fingers fiddled with the handle of his black bag as he looked about. Not him... Not him... Not hi-
There he was.
His hazel eyes caught blond hair that could easily pass for white and pale skin. He waved, but Gilbert's red eyes were pointed in the opposite direction. He sighed before taking a few more steps toward him. "Gilbert Beilschmidt?"
Those red eyes were so suddenly pointed at him, and Romano's breath caught. For a moment, he thought just maybe, despite the slim chance, he had made a mistake, but then the German greeting him broke into that grin he recognised from many webcams and pictures. He smiled back, a lot smaller, but a smile all the same.
"Roma!" Romano let out a small breath as he was suddenly hugged tightly. "How was your flight?" he asked releasing him. The grin was now a wide smile, those red eyes twinkling at him.
Romano pushed a dark chestnut curl behind his ear. "It was as good as an aeroplane ride could be," he said. The words came out tinged heavily in his accent. His English had always been adequate at best, but it was better than his German which was absolutely terrible. He had never thought to take the course in school, and Gilbert's lessons, however helpful, had only managed to get him able to understand basic snippets of the language. Speaking it was a hurdle they had not yet accomplished.
"Toll!" Gilbert said grabbing Romano's hand to lead them to their cabcar. As their fingers intertwined, Romano noticed for the first time just how nervous Gilbert really was. His radiating confidence had hid it, but now he could feel the nervousness in the sweat of his hands. He smiled a bit wider. That reassured him that he was not the only one anxious about what they were doing. "You're going to love Germany!" Gilbert had let go of his hand to put his bags in the trunk of the taxi. Romano had packed well over enough to sustain him for the month he planned on spending in the country.
He helped Romano into the cabcar before talking so-too much. Romano excused that for nerves. Plus, he kind of did not mind learning about the little details of Gilbert's life. Many of it he had already knew from their constant contact back and forth, but the older German man slipped in some new pieces of information as he spoke. He managed to talk the entire ride to his flat in Dresden, not even noticing that Romano fell asleep as he spoke, jetlag sinking in and his chestnut curls falling tossled against a dark-tinted window.
Hazel eyes awoke to a white-dotted black velvet sky. Gilbert was no longer speaking, but looking out the window with a soft smile. Romano followed his gaze, and nearly lost his breath at the sight of the tall evergreen that was in front of him. A twinkle filled his eyes, and whether it was the stars or the Christmas lights of the tree he was staring at, Gilbert was unsure. What he was sure of, however, was that whatever made those hazel eyes sparkle like that must have been some kind of unheard Christmas magic. He had never seen eyes so bright, so enticing, as Romano stared up at the large Christmas tree decorated in lights and festive ornaments heavy in detail. Romano turnt to him, and that small smile now lacked the earlier nervousness. "Is this where you live?"
"Yes," Gilbert said with his own smile and the Italian's heavy bags in hand. "Third floor," he said leading Romano to the complex's main door and pushing a button to allow them inside. "My brother owns the place, but I live here." Romano nodded and followed him up the stairwell. When they finally reached the floor Gilbert stayed on, the younger man was at the livingroom window before Gilbert could even place the bags down.
"You have the perfect view up here," Romano said in awe. He spun around to Gilbert, the twinkle was there again along with that smile Gilbert was starting to regard as perfection in personification as the Italian jumped over toward him. "In Naples we are not as big on Christmas trees," he said. "My brother likes them although, so we have one, but not that beautiful." It had slipped out before Romano could catch it. He had not meant to become so excited, but he could not contain himself. Everything was much better than he had expected it to be.
A laugh left Gilbert's mouth, and then calmed down to a grin. "I knew you would like it," he said. "Even after all your talk about how much you hated Germans and Germany." Gilbert walked a bit closer to him and grabbed his hands. "I'm really glad you decided to come Romano."
The Italian looked down at their hands, and found himself unable to pull his away. Rather, he simply intertwined their fingers, and fiddled a bit with them out of nervous habit. "It was a slip of tongue. Plus, it'd be rude to just say no," he said knowing full well that was not what he meant to say. He saw a bit of disappointment in Gilbert's eyes at the unexpectedly harsh reply, and he mentally kicked himself. No matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to be saying the wrong things. He opened his mouth to apologise, but the words did not come out. "You said something about teaching me how to bake in the cab?" Another harsh mental kick. Damn. Why could he not just apologise to Gilbert instead of bottling the guilt away?
"Ja," Gilbert said. A small bit of Romano's guilt melted away when he saw the smile Gilbert wore as he said the word. "Decided to teach you the best way to make gingerbread cookies." He adjusted their hands, so now he was just holding one as he led Romano to the kitchen. Romano could hear a bird chirping, and his eyes wandered to where it fluttered in the corner. It was a fat, little chick of a bird, just a small shade darker than the pale yellow kitchen walls. The bird flew over and nestled into Romano hair, flitted to his shoulder and then finally settled back in the Italian's messy curls. All the while he was making that chirping noise that grated against Romano's ears as he tried to swat it away to no avail. Gilbert simply stood off to the side laughing. "He likes you," he said with a grin and then turning to grab the ingredients for the cookies. "Have you ever made these before?"
Romano gave up on the bird and nodded. "Yes, but it is probably different than the way you make it." Gilbert had said something once before about family recipes had to be used out of tradition. Romano looked over his shoulder at the gathered ingredients. "What all do we have to do?"
Gilbert took out a saucepan and put in sugar, butter, honey, Lebkuchengewürz and cocoa powder on medium heat. "We have to boil this until the sugar dissolves, and then let it cool," he said with Romano peeking around him in silent observance. "In my family, we add a small difference from the traditional recipe; we add just a tiny bit more sugar and honey... It's done boiling." Gilbert removed it from the heat and left it to side to cool.
An olive green bowl was placed in Romano's hands. "Want to sift the flour with the salt?" Gilbert asked the surprised Italian who nodded. Gilbert smiled at him and handed him a whisk. "Sorry, but I don't have a sifter. Not that fancy y'know?"
"I'm used to not using one," Romano replied. His family was not the richest, and sometimes they could make do without unnecessary things such as a sieve. Maybe that was why he worked so hard in his studies. He wanted to get out of that kind of life as soon as possible.
Red eyes watched him curiously as he aerated the flour and salt mixture until it was consistent. "Do we make a depression in it?" Romano asked looking up at him.
Gilbert nodded and grinned. "Have you done this before?" he asked grabbing an egg and handing it to the Italian who already seemed to know what to do with it.
"No," Romano replied, "but I've baked before. I bake in my spare time when I'm bored." He tapped the egg on the rim of the bowl and gently broke it apart, so that yolk and white plopped into the centre of the sifted flour. Gilbert poured the honey mix on top of it, and then let Romano handle the stirring.
"Do you like it?" Gilbert asked as Romano mixed. He was leaning against the counter, and the tiny yellow fluff of a bird was now on his shoulder rather than Romano's head.
A small shrug was Romano's reply as he looked up, still mixing. "I don't really care for it. It is just something I do," he said. "That or I go out to my garden. Here. Take it. My arm's getting tired." Romano walked over and passed the bowl to Gilbert.
"How's that going by the way?" the older man asked as Romano hopped up on top of the counter. Gilbird flew from his shoulder back to the mess of brunet curls that were beginning to become his second home.
"My garden? I managed to harvest up most of the fruits and vegetables, and I brought the herbs inside for the winter," he said looking up in thought as he spoke. He hoped his brother Feliciano was taking care of them back home. His younger brother could be careless, and sometimes forgot about little things like watering plants in a windowsill or making sure to keep his dirty laundry off of the floor.
"I wish I had your green thumb," Gilbert said as he rolled the dough into a ball. "Can you grab the plastic wrap? It's in the second bottom cabinet."
Romano nodded and slid off the counter to his feet. He tossed the plastic wrap to Gilbert to wrap up the ball and place it off to the side. "What now?" he asked dusting off his hands and then moving to the sink to wash them. It seemed he had managed to get a little flour on himself.
"We have to let it sit until morning, and then we can bake them," he said and went to the sink to wash his own hands. They were still damp as he tugged Romano to the livingroom. "C'mon. No sense in sitting in here as we wait." He sat down on the couch on the opposite armrest of Romano.
For a while they sat in silence, unsure what to really do, and then Gilbert spoke up. "What's your favourite Christmas tradition?"
Hazel eyes tore themselves away from the window and the view of the Christmas lights and trees that waited just outside their door. He stared at Gilbert for a few minutes before looking back out the window and speaking. "It is not a tradition really. It is just something my family does. We all go to Mass on Christmas Eve, and as we go we sing Christmas carols. Then we go home and have eithre wine or cocoa." He smiled softly at the memory, the Christmas lights reflecting in his hazel eyes and luminating off of his curls. Gilbert stared at him, clearing his throat before speaking.
"That sounds very nice," Gilbert said with a smile. "Maybe we can have some hot cocoa. Have you ever tried peppermint?" Gilbert asked and finally pulled his gaze away from Romano.
"I have. In England last month. Remember that student trip I paid for?"
"Ja."
"... It sucked by the way."
Gilbert could not help the loud laugh that left his mouth then. "Really?"
"Yes," Romano said with a scowl and turnt toward Gilbert. "It was rainy and wet and cold! Not to mention our tour guide was this old-ass Englishman with huge catepillars for eyebrows." When Romano described his tour guide he held up two fingers where his eyebrows should be and wiggled them. "I swear they were going to come to life!"
The comments and gestures only made Gilbert laugh even harder.
"I had nightmares about them!" Romano was exaggerating now, but it was clear Gilbert was enjoying the story. He did not want to stop just yet. He wanted to hear that laugh for just a tiny bit longer.
So he went on. He told Gilbert how he argued with a cafe barista over how to make a proper espresso, and he told him about how he got stuck in a downpour without an umbrella. There was the dog that stole his bread, along with the idiot American tourist who accidentally hit him with a football. ("Except," Romano just had to add, "he used that fucking ridiculous American term 'soccer ball.'")
Gilbert laughed until he cried, and then some more. It was contagious after a few minutes, and Romano found his own laughs interrupting how he told the story until most of what he was saying was practically indistinguishable.
They stopped when Romano nearly rolled right off the couch holding his sides. Gilbert caught him in his lap and held him there. He grinned down at him, red eyes lit with their own light. Romano's laughs died on his lips into a soft smile. He had not laughed so hard in the longest time. He was always too serious or too upset to. Not to mention, usually during the holidays he was incredibly uncomfortable and insecure around his grandfather.
His eyes grew a bit sad at the thought, and he averted them from Gilbert's.
"Y'know what?" Gilbert said capturing Romano's attention once more. "This is going to be the best fucking Christmas ever." He was grinning as he spoke. He was not just saying his words; he believed in them.
Romano stared at him, and the thought passed how could this stranger know something like that. Then he realised they were not strangers. He had known Gilbert for almost year. Just because they had not met in person did not mean that they did not know each other. He knew all he needed to know about Gilbert Beilschmidt. His favourite colour was violet. He really liked foreign food, and could eat practically anything. His laugh was like a loud, hissing sound that somehow fit him. His best friend was his pet bird and his little brother (who he was very proud of). The list went on, and amongst it all, Romano knew Gilbert truly and honestly cared about him entirely too much.
He brought his hands to Gilbert's face and left them there. Then, hesitantly, he brought Gilbert's head down and their lips brushed. It was a chaste kiss that seemed to last for an eternity. Right up until the moment when Gilbert broke it, but did not dare to pull completely apart. "What was that for?" he asked with a smile. He was not entirely used to be oh-so-suddenly kissed like that.
Romano shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe I'm tired, and a little out of my mind. Maybe." He looked up from his place on Gilbert's lap and smiled back. Maybe he was a little in love.
Gilbert saw the look in his eyes and sat up, bringing Romano with him. "How about we both lose a little of our minds then? Sleep in my bed tonight?" The offer was blunt and straight-to-the-point, but Romano supposed that was just the way Gilbert was. Romano was beginning to think it was in his own nature to accept whatever outrageous proposal Gilbert gave him.
He stood and held out his hand. "Ja," he said in sloppy German, and waited for the other hand he knew would intertwine with his.
By the time they reached the bedroom, they slipped onto the bed tangled up in each other. Neithre was truly dominant as their tongues knotted together, both just tasting each other's mouth. Romano's hands grasped hair that matched the snow falling outside, and Gilbert's drew intricate figures on olive skin. They kissed until they could hardly breathe, until they were practically choking the oxygen from each other's lips. Heavy pants as they pulled apart for split moments only to rejoin once more.
The kiss was too short. The kiss lasted forever. When their lips parted for the final time, Romano was smiling at him. This smile was different than the others. It whispered a secret Gilbert could not hear with his mind, but one that he felt with his heart as hazel eyes continued to bore into him. He reached up and tugged Romano until they were side by side on his large black and white bed. Their legs were still tangled together, but neithre of them minded that at all.
Romano scooted closer and placed his head in the crook of Gilbert's neck, not minding being overwhelmed with the presence of the man he had been waiting for toolong to meet. He closed his eyes and drunk it in through his skin, breathing it in through his mouth.
He had decided this was the best decision of his life.
.
.
Romano woke up the next morning alone in the bed. Gilbert's body was replaced with a long striped pillow. He looked about for a while before sitting up with a yawn. His body and eyes were still weighed down by the remnants of sleep, and he could not stop himself from falling against the headboard and closing his eyes once more. He had nearly just about dozed off again when a deep chirping woke him back up. He squinted his eyes open, and found a grin much brighter than a waking sun greeting him.
"Morning mein Sonnenschien," Gilbert greeted and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I finished the Markt Lebkuchenherzen."
Romano stared at him blankly. That was a word he had yet to learn in German. "Mar- Marcht Lebrooche-che- Shit," he cursed over his failed attempt at the word. "The what?" he asked deciding to simplify it for easier saying.
Gilbert was trying so hard not to laugh at that attempt. He grinned and pointed to a plate he held. "The gingerbread cookies," he said a small chuckle escaping despite his strong attempt to hold it in.
A scowl came across Romano's features. He did not know why Gilbert expected him to know that. He huffed and crossed his arms. "How was I supposed to fucking know that?" he asked and moved, so he could see the plate. The cookies were heart-shaped and decorated with mint green and cherry red icing. He tilted his head. "What's in the centre of them?" he asked curiously. His scowl gave way to his curiosity as he held one up by a red and green ribbon.
"Phrases of your heart," Gilbert said, his grin softening to a warm smile.
Romano put down the gingerbread heart, and looked at the German man for further explanation.
"It is traditional to write phrases in the centre, and give them to the person you like." Romano was still looking at him as if he wanted him to go on, so he did. "Ich mag Dich," he said pointing at the first one, "I like you. Ic hab Dich lieb. I like you sooooo much." A small smile came on Romano's feature at that one, but he did not tell Gilbert to stop. "Ich liebe Dich. I love you. Fur mein Sonnenschien. For my sunshine." Then he came to the last one, and this one Romano read.
"Ti amo Romano." The Italian rolled off of his tongue smoothly as he said it, and by the time he was done, he was smiling probably brighter than Gilbert was. The red-eyed German looked embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck out of flustered habit.
He averted his eyes from Romano for the first time that morning. "I really hope I spelt that right," he said with a laugh. This one held an inkling of his nervousness.
Romano did not assure him whether or not it was. Rather, Romano was silent. Gilbert looked over to him for a reason why to be met with bright eyes steady on him. That childish excitement that sometimes got caught in hazel eyes and made them greener than they averagely were was there and focused on the German. He stared a bit stunned by them before lips captured his softly before pulling apart.
Crumbs fell on the bed as Romano broke the heart in half and handed one fraction to Gilbert. He took his own and bit it. "These aren't half bad." Another one of those small lies he did not mean to say. (He honestly thought they were delicious.)
Gilbert grinned. He had caught what Romano had meant to say. "Thanks," he said and took another bite of the cookie. After that, the sounds of their soft chewing was the only in their room. Romano was the one to finish his bit first, and then he stood.
"I'll be back," he said and held up a finger to tell Gilbert not to follow. He disappeared from the room, the soft shf-shf of his socks on the carpet the only sound that he was still in the house. Gilbert could hear him enter the kicthen (the soft shuffle noise had became soft padding of socks on linoleum), and he could hear mumbled cursing and the clattering of what he expected to be dishes. Then more cursing, padding of socks and finally the shf-shf of him returning to the bedroom. He held up a gingerbread heart and put it in Gilbert's hand.
Gilbert grinned when he saw it, and laughed much to Romano's dismay. He cursed and then turnt to leave only to be brought down on the bed in a hug. "I am so glad you came."
Romano flushed and muttered, "You've already said that."
Gilbert held up the cookie and could not help the happiness that shown on his face. He almost made Romano want to kiss him again. "I cannot say it enough," he said, and Romano found that he did not need to kiss Gilbert because the German man pecked him oh-so-sweetly on the lips. A kiss that tasted of honey, ginger and coloured royal icing. Romano could not help the smile on his face. There was something about Gilbert Beilschmidt that made him not quite himself. Something that he would usually worry about, but he never could muster to give a damn in the other's presence.
He was too happy to care.
"I'm glad I came too."