warning: cliche
A/N: I made a rather hilarious mistake with the Italian in here and I really have to thank supportthevegans1313 and Chaos Rider Tenshi for pointing out my mistake and preventing me from making a (further) fool of myself. Thanks, you guys!
Gifts for Prosper
"There must be something you want, Prosper."
Prosper looked up from one of Hornet's books with a bewildered look on his face. Just a second ago, they were talking about the contessa Scipio had been shadowing for his latest case. How did this question suddenly pop up in the conversation?
"Well, I would like to get Bo some new colour pencils," he said, after thinking for awhile. "He lost a couple of colours to the canals and is now missing red and green."
"No, Prosper," said Scipio, shaking his head, a long dark ponytail tossing about his shoulders as he did so. He had left his hair to grow long and now it tickled the small of his back if he left it undone. "I don't mean something you want for Bo. I'm talking about something you would want for yourself." Scipio closed the distance between them and closed the book on Prosper's lap. "For you, Prosper."
Prosper swallowed. Scipio was acting weird again. He had first begun noticing it when Scipio began calling him by his proper name and saying his name even when he didn't need to. "Pass me the salt, will you, Prosper?" "Prosper, have you seen my knife?" "Is there something wrong, Prosper? You have that look on your face again."
After the first few times, Prosper gave up exclaiming, "Jeez, Scipio, just call me Prop like you always do!" and let the man call him whatever he wished, whenever he pleased. But Prosper started calling him Scipio instead of Scip as well, as a sort of revenge. Scipio later claimed that it felt more adult-like calling Prosper by his real name. However, he never called Hornet or Bo by their real names.
Then, Scipio began bugging him whenever he showed up at Casa Spavento. He was always pleasant to everyone; never forgot to bow politely to Signora Ida and brought Hornet a new book whenever he could - but then he would slide up to Prosper, lazily drape his arm around his shoulders, and say in that deep adult voice of his, "How's it going, Prosper?"
In his opinion, being adult has twisted Scipio more than ever. He still smiled and laughed the same but he had obtained the insight every adult has and no child would understand. Prosper wished he understood. Then maybe he could sort out why his stomach started to plummet every time Scipio got too close.
Like right now. Scipio's lips were only a breath away from his. Prosper swallowed - it was his new habit - and gently pushed his friend away. "No, there's nothing. And I would like you not to close my books in future. I don't remember my page."
Scipio lowered his eyes and opened the book back to the page Prosper had been reading. "There must be something you want, Prosper. I'll find out." He brushed a thumb over Prosper's cheek and smiled proudly. "I'm good at that."
Unbeknownst to him, Scipio had his work cut out. Prosper was the most unselfish boy in Venice. Aside from Bo, he didn't want much.
On Monday, Scipio brought him a penknife that allowed him to pick locks and screw bolts. But Prosper didn't have much used for it and gave it to Mosca when he came to visit. On Tuesday, the young detective left a box of chocolates on the table for him but Prosper had never been much of a sweet tooth and gave it to Bo instead. On Wednesday, a pigeon flew through the window with an envelope containing a ticket to a popular play in the square. Prosper wondered what had given Scipio the idea that he liked plays but was glad Signora Ida liked the show.
Thursday came and Prosper was no longer surprised to find gifts waiting for him when he arrived home from school. He gave the flute he found on his pillow to Riccio, so that the boy would have a hobby aside from pick-pocketing. Hornet really liked Friday's gift because it was a series of mystery books Scipio had sent in parcels. Saturday's gift was a puppy, which Lucia would be more than delighted to raise.
When Sunday rolled by, Ida and Victor brought all the children for lunch at a cafe after church. But Scipio had taken Prosper's arm before they were done ordering and dragged him away. He took Prosper to Barabossa's empty shop, which remained dust-free because Hornet still came in to maintain it every week.
Scipio brought Prosper to the office in the back and sat in Barabossa's old chair, looking like the boss of everything. "Sit, Prosper, sit."
Prosper did not sit. There was something wrong with Scipio. More so than usual.
Scipio sighed. "If you will not sit before me, then you will sit with me," he declared. He stood up, gathered a protesting Prosper into his arms and drew him onto his lap. Prosper's stomach plummeted with nervousness and he struggled to get away but Scipio was larger and stronger. "I gave those gifts hoping to make you happy, Prosper. But the more I gave, the more I wondered if making other people happy is your only joy."
"I didn't have a need for the things you gave me," explained Prosper. "I put them to better use."
"And what about my feelings, Prosper? Do you not have a need for them either? How will you put them to better use?"
Prosper blinked, confused. "Your feelings?"
"Yes. Did you think it coincidence?" Scipio's hand tightened around Prosper as if he might run away. "That I should call myself Fortunato as your mother had named you, Prosper?"
(Note: Prosper means "lucky one" and Fortunato means "fortunate one" according to the English translation of the book.)
"I thought it appropriate," admitted Prosper, "because you got what you wanted. You escaped your father. You became adult."
"But do I have you?"
Prosper swallowed. It wasn't fair. He was still a child and shouldn't have to answer adult questions. He ignored the little voice that said So is Scipio. He is adult only in face and body. But Prosper didn't want to answer; didn't know how. So, he said instead, "I want to return to the cafe. I'm hungry."
Scipio released him. Prosper wasted no time in running out, trying not to see the look of disappointment on his friend's face. The walk back to the cafe was silent and awkward. Scipio made no effort to start or join in a conversation and stayed quiet for the rest of the day. Prosper turned his head away, not wanting to acknowledge that the entire thing was his fault.
[two]
What Victor Discovered
In the following days, there were no more gifts for Prosper. He was worried, wondering if Scipio hated him now. How complicated his relationship with Scipio suddenly seemed. They were friends and yet acting unfriendly towards each other; Scipio liked him but ignored him whenever he came over; Prosper wasn't sure if he liked Scipio the same way, but he wished Scipio would go back to paying attention to him.
No one had cared for him like that before. It was always Bo, who got the attention because of his innocent smile and angel face. No one had time for dark and brooding Prosper, with his intelligent eyes and guarded smile.
"Prosper?" It was Victor. He climbed up into the attic with slight difficulty due to his bad back. He was getting old, which was why Scipio was a useful asset. But apparently less and less as of late. "He shadowed the wrong person three times this week. He accidentally poured coffee onto his pants because he's daydreaming and he's not getting enough sleep. What have you done to my Scipio, Prosper?"
Your Scipio? Prosper's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I've done anything?"
"Where did the two of you go on Sunday?" Oh right. Victor was a detective.
Prosper fidgeted. "We talked."
"About?" Victor encouraged.
Prosper hesitated, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. "His feelings."
Victor heaved a large sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "So, that little devil has a crush on you, does he? Well, I was hoping to be able to help solve things but apparently this matter isn't mine to meddle in. But Prosper, do you like Scipio?"
"Yes I do. Very much."
The detective frowned, confused. "Then what's the problem? Didn't you tell him that?" It was the first time this occurred to Prosper. He had been so frightened when Scipio cornered him with his feelings that Prosper never really thought about why he fled or how he felt about it himself. Reading the dilemma on the boy's face, Victor smiled sympathetically. He knelt down and ruffled Prosper's hair. "What do you want, Prosper?"
Prosper bit his lip.
"There must be something you want, Prosper."
Of course there was something he wanted. He just didn't realise what it was. Victor dropped the keys to his house into Prosper's hand and closed his fingers over them. "You know the way to my place, don't you?"
Prosper smiled at Victor and left.
[three]
No Kisses for Scipio
The night was cold and uninviting, not at all a safe time for a child like Prosper to run around. But he had been one of the street rats who knew Venice. He not only saw and smelt her, but also felt her breathing beneath his feet - the pulse of life that ran through every city. Prosper ran up the stone steps to Victor's house and nearly knocked the large lion knocker on the door before remembering that he had the keys.
He fumbled with them a little, making a small racket as the brass keys jungled against each other in the silent night. His cold fingers slipped over the metal, dropping the ring of keys on the doorstep. Prosper bent over quickly to pick them up just as the door opened, revealing an annoyed Scipio before the threshold.
"Santo cielo, Victor, could you make less of a dun out here!"
"Scipio."
The young detective stopped and looked down at his unexpected guest. He froze for a few moments, shocked and at a loss of what to do, until he removed his hand from the door jamb and invited Prosper inside. Victor's office was as he had remembered in, but now opposite Victor's desk in the living room was another desk. It was smaller, made of mahogany and was cluttered with various documents and trinkets Scipio Fortunato said the brass nameplate.
Prosper sat down on the sofa as Scipio retreated to the kitchen and came back out with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Prosper accepted the drink gratefully and held the mug in his hands to warm his fingers. Scipio considered Prosper over the rim of the mug. "Did you come to tell me Victor chose to stay over at Signora Ida's place?"
"He might now," said Prosper, "since I have his keys."
"Mighty useful in your hands," replied Scipio mirthfully.
Prosper blushed but smiled nonetheless.
"So what has brought you to Casa Getz tonight, Signore Prosper?" Scipio asked, a charming smile lurking on his lips. There was no doubt that the roundabout of the Merciful Sistershad changed him. His transformation had forced him to grow up fast to match his adult looks. It also gave him the physical attractiveness that would have come in a few years anyway. "Prosper?"
The teenager broke out of his reverie and blushed harder. He had been staring. "Victor says you haven't been paying attention to your work. He's worried about you."
As he said that, some gentleness left Scipio's face. "So, it was Victor who sent you."
"No!" exclaimed Prosper, surprised at his own indignation. "I came here because I wanted to see you." He looked at his feet, immediately shy again. He could be brave for someone else. Like Bo. If it was for Bo, he could stare down even his aunt Esther. But when it was for himself, his courage somehow fled. "Why did you say those things to me on Sunday?"
"Isn't it obvious? I like you, Prosper." Scipio fiddled with the rubber band that held his hair together and cursed softly when it broke. Long dark hair cascaded around his shoulders. "A moment, Prosper. Perhaps I should cut my hair, after all. It looks better long but goodness, it's hell to take care of." He stood up to fetch another band but stopped when he felt Prosper grasping his hand.
"You asked me before if there was anything I wanted," Prosper said, voice shaking. "I want this."
Scipio raised his eyebrow. "You want my broken rubber band?" he asked in an incredulous tone.
"What? No," said Prosper, confused. "I want you, Scipio." The confession was so sudden and unexpected, even to Prosper, that he clapped both hands over his mouth and fell backwards. Scipio saw him lose balance and immediately bent down to right him on his feet.
He pried Prosper's hands from his lips and made the boy look at him. Prosper exploded in red. He felt like running away again, just like he did on Sunday. But Scipio was holding his hand and there was no way he could leave now without hurting Scipio.
"Voglio un bacio," said Scipio, making Prosper's eyes go wide. Prosper stared at him long and hard, waiting for Scipio's face to crumple into a grin and admit that he had been joking. But Scipio stayed still and serious. "You made me wait miserably for a whole week, Prosper. I deserve a kiss. You're old enough to give one, aren't you?"
Prosper pursed his lips, unamused. "I might be old enough but I certainly won't give you one. You may have grown up in some ways, Scipio, but this unreasonable part of you is still the same."
To his surprise, Scipio threw back his head and laughed. He grinned till his eyes sparkled and wrapped Prosper in his arms. "Just as I expected of you, Prosper. You thrill me."
Prosper wished he had a better way to cover his red face but settled for burying it in Scipio's shoulder. His fingers found Scipio's dark curls and he murmured absentmindedly, "Don't cut them. You look good like this."
Scipio, who was still grinning like an idiot, nodded dreamily. "Anything you want, Prosper. Anything you want."
[four]
And then...
Prosper knew that they would have to tell everyone about his new relationship with Scipio eventually. Except Victor, of course, because he already knew. Prosper mulled over the matter night after night and could not think of a good solution. He thought of telling Bo, who would tell everyone else on his behalf, but that felt cowardly so he didn't want to do that.
Scipio solved the problem for him when he came over for dinner one night at Casa Spavento. He clapped his glass with a fork, gathering everyone's attention, and stood up; tall and arrogant, the Thief Lord grown up. "Ladies and gentlemen of the table, I would like to announce that yours truly, the excellent detective - " Victor coughed into his napkin and Scipio shot him a look, "- and the one and only Scipio Fortunato has, at long last, fallen in love."
Prosper stared at Scipio in horror. He wouldn't! thought Prosper. Wait a second, he would!
Hornet gave Scipio a withering look, disbelief written all over her face. "And who is this unfortunate person?"
Prosper was attempting to scramble away from the table when Scipio grabbed his arm and lifted him to his feet to stand right next to him. The entire table dropped their cutlery and even Lucia dropped the tray of dessert. Riccio poured fruit juice onto his pasta distractedly. "Is it true, Prop?" Mosca wanted to know.
The boy barely managed a shame-faced nod. The table was silent until Bo gave a loud "hurrah!" to which everyone else joined in. Signora Ida was amused, to say the least. She kept sending mischievous looks to the both of them throughout dinner and smiled at Scipio, "So this was why our dear Prosper has been receiving so many gifts?"
'Indeed," declared Scipio proudly.
Propser wanted to punch the man who had no shame whatsoever. But it was hard to stay angry at Scipio when he smiled so brilliantly. And if he was honest, Prosper was bubbling gleefully inside too.
Signora Ida wanted Victor and Scipio to stay the night - actually, she wanted more photos of the new couple together - but they declined, saying that they had to open the office tomorrow. And the tortoises should not be forgotten.
Before they left, Prosper grabbed Scipio from the doorstep and pulled him into the umbrella closet. Scipio put his hand around his back when he felt Prosper's hand on the front of his coat. "Scipio...vonglio un bacio," Prosper requested shyly.
Scipio smiled and tilted Prosper's chin towards him. "Anything you want, Prosper," he said before kissing him soundly.
end.