The public's general idea of a wedding is "Ooh cake gimme gimme gimme!". Then after that their nextt thought would be "A union between two very special and surely quite-in-love people."

For Antonio Carriedo-Hernandez, the former was a big yes. A very big yes. His new brother-in-law had slaved away in the kitchen four hours on end with his long term boyfriend (yes it seemed to run in the family) and successfully produced an awe-inspiring, gravity defying wedding cake that consisted of four base round cakes, two of which had pillars supporting two more round cakes that had a stair like decor leading to the main cake that too had pillars supporting the smallest cake of all.

Vines and leaves decorated the otherwise white surface of the entire creation as well as varrying sizes of edible candy tomatoes (which was probably what Antonio loved the most- he didn't know Feli knew he liked tomatoes).
It was beautiful, possibly even worth the two and a half hours it had taken them to assemble until Feli's inner dictator was appeased... possibly.

Any twenty-eight year old man would probably wince at how much a cake like that would cost but not Antonio. He was fairly sure he hadn't spent half as much as the other party did. You see this wedding of his had been stamped with a mark of approval upon the mere suggestion of it.

It explained why Roma Vargas wholeheartedly supported and financed the wedding from the venue, to service, to food, to the docummentation, to the very heavy and very expensive wedding rings one of which felt warm, snug and oh so utterly foreign resting around Antonio's finger.

He had half the mind to take it off.

But he wouldn't. Well, more like couldn't.

At least not yet.

"Antoine!" His best man, Francis sauntered up to him with what appeared to be a bright smile to anyone else. But to Antonio, his best friend, it was obviously a fake smile, used to hide the concern the Frenchman was no doubt feeling.

"I'm okay." He said once the blonde had reached him.

"I said nothing." Francis teased but relief visibly washed over his face. "Where is your pretty wife Antoine?"

"Don't let him hear you call him that." Antonio mumbled, grabbing a flute of wine (what did you expect?) from a passing waiter.

Francis smirked. "Oui, he's got quite a temper doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't know." Antonio replied. "I haven't exactly spent much time with him, and the few times we've both been in the same room, he hasn't talked to me. He mostly ignores me."
Francis' eyebrow rose delicately. "Oh? It seems you aren't the only one displeased by this marriage."

"Si amigo, it does."

"What are you going to do about it?" Francis asked.

"I don't know." Antonio sighed. His attention moved from his best friend to the front of the room where Roma was being handed the mic. Downing his wine, he handed the flute to Francis and moved to intercept another moving brunet.

"Where have you been?" Now the moment you've all been waiting for.

Lovino Vargas was without a doubt a gorgeous creature. Any man or woman would be lucky to have him and Antonio was well aware of that. He had beautiful tan skin that reminded Antonio of summers in Spain. His eyes were a beautiful warm color of brown that made you think of drowning in melted chocolate. His hair was nearly the same color, but darker and there was this ridiculous curl that refused to be tamed, even on his own wedding day.

Antonio didn't reply to Lovino's question but simply held out his arm. The Italian frowned, his lips turning down petulantly but nonetheless laid a hand on Antonio's arm and let himself be lead away. Antonio wondered how Lovino could... submit so easily. If it was him, he wouldn't like to be lead like this... treated almost like a woman.
Gracias a Dios that they wouldn't have to dance. Heaven forbid he have to force Lovino into such a submissive position. He would not humiliate the other man that way.

Upon reaching the front of the room where Roma was waiting for them, a huge grin on his face, Antonio felt Lovino's grip on his arm tighten and he glanced at the Italian whose smile faltered. Such a sight almost made Antonio's own smile grow bigger.

He seriously wasn't alone with not liking this marriage.

"Ahh, the happy couple." Roma cheered into the mic, his other hand holding a tall flute. Beside him was a small table holding a plate and what looked like bread.

Antonio offered a smile to Roma who nodded his head then turned to his grandson who was simply staring straight ahead. The man had a clear air around him that said "Let's just get this over with." and Antonio was glad to comply.

The festivities lasted longer than Antonio thought they would. If it hadn't been his wedding, he would have said he'd enjoyed himself. But it was his wedding and so he spent the majority of the reception thinking of ways to change his current position.

Perhaps his Italian friend could help him if Lovino obviously didn't like their marriage either. That's what Antonio was hoping for and how those hopes were dashed when he stumbled into the couple's room (a place where they'd been styled and changed after the ceremony but before the reception) and he caught the last few lines of a conversation he was definitely not privy to.

"... doing this for him. I'll just have to grin and bear it." Lovino was speaking to someone and if Antonio wasn't mistaken, his voice was trembling. "Dio I don't- hey bastard I'm trying to express myself here but you keep cutting me off! Tch stop laughing at my misery dammit!"

Antonio leaned against a wall. He was sure he knew who this 'him' was. Lovino was the heir of a huge winery that sold billions and he was set to inherit it in a year when Roma would retire. But Lovino didn't want to inherit it, he was making a proper living for himself as a doctor.

Roma was not pleased, Lovino was stubborn, and Antonio and this wedding had been thrown into the mix.
Antonio wished he could find a different way to break this marriage off but he had no choice. This was the only option.

Roma may be cruel but he was not heartless. If he saw that his grandson was beyond miserable in this marriage of theirs then he would perhaps allow a consented separation.
Antonio sighed and readied himself.

The mission was now very simple; make Lovino's life a living hell. Hell in a way that the Italian would lose his resolve and beg for a divorce.

The Spaniard laughed quietly to himself, almost a little desperate, as he gripped the ring in his hand. Lovino's personality and character was a mystery to him. But with some help, this could maybe be fun.

I've been thinking of this plot for a while now. Sometimes I think Spain's happy demeanor could be very fake so here I am using it.