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Author's Note: De-anon from Minvasion.
This was actually one of my favourites from the minvasion - although it got no comments, so I must have been the only one to like it haha. Task was to describe Spamano from a third-party perspective. I had fun. I'm not much of a Spamano fan but writing this almost convinced me.
Long title is longsome.
You Do Not Understand Those You Love, Only Accept Them.
Feli doesn't understand; he is only witness.
Romano holds hands, wraps his arms around Antonio like a tiny plant hugging the sun. Clings close and defensively. Like maybe Antonio is indeed sunlight and will disappear overnight, and overwinter. Like pagan sacrifices to bring back the sun.
Feliciano sips a shot of coffee - meaning he flings it back with two sugars and some cream instead of neat - and watches them from the corner of his eye. He's overt, but neither of them have noticed. It's a three-person breakfast, but Feliciano is sure he's only a ghost.
Maybe a breeze.
Certainly not a person right now.
Not when Antonio follows each wave of Romano's hands. Romano is complaining about the merciless trains, the cigarette butts everywhere, that aquaduct they dug up when he tried to build a new road, tourists, and the coffee that leaves grit in his mouth, it's all Turkey's fault. Romano's hands are a colourful flourish.
Feli knows how long it has taken Romano to feel comfortable enough to talk with his hands in front of Antonio.
Romano almost hits Antonio in the fact, and Antonio grins sheepishly at the flick of hand by his nose. If Romano had hit, he would have panicked, swearing, and claiming Antonio had not been paying attention so he'd hit him, of course.
Feli translates each wave into Roma's feelings: irritation, annoyance, tired, a little lonely.
Antonio crosses a leg under the table; Feli can see it in the wriggle that goes through Antonio's body. One foot presses on Romano's ankle. Not sexual. Comforting. A way of saying I understand, I'm with you.
Feli almost smiles, and of course, it looks like his entire face has lit up, but it hasn't reached his eyes yet. They're half-lidded. Still observing and considering the matter. He's beaming, but his eyes are pondering, and thinking.
He's honestly happy for Romano, more than anything ever.
Romano slams a fist on the table and demands another coffee, one that is worth drinking, and Feli placates him by standing up to order three more. He'll balance them back in two hands. Behind him, in the corner of his eyes, he can see Antonio bush Romano's cheek, before tucking his hands behind his head. Sort of like an accident. Only it isn't.
Toni says something inept, and Romano chews him out, correcting, and playing home improvement. Feli counts out the euros in careful, index-pushing movements, smiling at the pretty barista. He can hear Antonio laughing and gently pushing back at Romano; arguing good-naturedly in return.
He doesn't need to look to know Antonio is being shushed with a viciously chaste kiss. So innocent and direct, so purposeful, it is a new flavour of intimacy. The two are close enough for cheap kisses. For kisses that are purely to win arguments and shut someone up.
Feli trots over to the table with the caffeine - the local drug of choice, once every few hours just to keep Feli and Roma going - and Antonio and Romano are no longer kissing. Feliciano didn't need to see, though.
Romano tosses the drink back, and Antonio tries to copy him, showing off desperately. He coughs and hacks on it, and Romano swears when mouth-warm coffee doesn't splatter him, but hey, it could have. Feliciano wipes away a single fleck on his cheeks. It's so intimate it almost makes him blush.
He definitely feels like a not-person intruding now.
Feliciano sees Romano and Antonio's hands drop shyly under the table within a four minutes of each other. They're holding hands.
Feli doesn't understand; he just witnesses.
And feels lonely, even when his brother is just there, and his other brother too. They're probably not there. They're lost in another world. It's called love.
Feli's just glad Romano seems happy, so he accepts this without question.
May your quills be ever sharp.