This is a special present to ButterflyLily, the 100th reviewer of Mein Schutzengel Il Mio Protettore, who wants to know how Lovino proposed to Antonia, because I kind of left you guys hanging there in chapter four. Hence, I'm going to pick up from where I left off. Consider this chapter 4. B.

Honestly, I was going to include this in the story, but I kind of ….forgot. *is stoned* This was written to Mariah by JaunMagan. Erm. I know I said that I wasn't going to write or post today, but I saw this promt and couldn't stop myself. Sorry, daddy!

So here you go! I hope you enjoy it ^_^

"Sooo, Roma, how are you?" Antonia asked into the suddenly silent room.

"Bene, bene, cara. Come stai?" he asked, leaning across the table to smile wolfishly at her. Lovino's almost constant frown deepened.

"She's fine, nono. Stop hitting on my girlfriend. It reveals the creepy old man you are," he grouched. Roma ran a hand through his hair and laughed.

"Ah, but who can resist when such a lovely woman is only a few feet away? Tie her down quick, Lovi!" he grinned, an eyebrow raise subtly giving his grandson the go ahead to propose.

"Restrain yourself, please!" the younger Italian snapped, rising from his seat as the shouting down the hall reached it's crescendo.

"Antonia. We're going out tonight, to De Pisis." He said as he walked towards the door. Hand on the knob, he glanced over his shoulder, cheeks glowing, "Wear something nice."

~====o)0(o====~

"Francis!" Antonia cooed, swinging the Frenchman around the room, "Francis, isn't it wonderful! He's taking me out!"

"C'est merveilleux, ma chère," he smiled, spinning her around while Matthew grimaced from where he was toting up accounts.

"And I don't have a thing to wear," she sighed, "he said 'something nice'. What does 'nice' mean in Lovi-speak?"

"You'd know better than us what he means. The only thing I can think of when he speaks is that there must be something chewing on his testicles," the Canadian muttered. It wasn't that he didn't have an attitude, it was just that people hardly paid him enough mind to realise.

"Never mind Matthieu, cher, his team lost last night their match last night."

"That's all well and good, but what am I going to wear? I don't think I have anything pretty enough for a fancy evening out with me! All my clothes are in Rome!"

"Fortunately, cher," Francis interrupted her tirade by covering her mouth with his hand, "I have just the thing," he smiled, and swaggered off into the next room.

"What's he doing?" Antonia asked, Matthew said nothing, simply shrugging.

After a few minutes of shuffling, and a few French curses when it can only be assumed that he stubbed his toe, the Frenchman re-emerged carrying a garment bag.

"Fra~ncis," she asked, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow, "what's that?"

He shrugged eloquently, "A little birdie may or may not have told me you were going somewhere special tonight. I know you didn't bring anything."

Antonia flushed happily, "He told you? That's so sweet! So . . . un-Lovi-like. I wonder what mi tomatito is planning?" she mused. Francis looked to Matthew. Their employer was a sharp business woman, but she could be as thick as three tanks at times.

"Anyway, Antoine, try it on." Not that there was any point. Francis new her dress and shoe size better than his own. That was what best friends were for. Giggling like a delighted little girl, and clapping her hands in much the same manner, she took the bag and scuttled off to her room to change.

After only a few minutes, she came rushing back out again in her underwear. Both Matthew and Francis simultaneously raised hands to cover their eyes, though Francis peeked.

"Okay," she said, one hand on her hip, the other pointing first to her French friends and the to his lover, "You, mijo, are in a relationship, close those fingers, you, Mattie, are gay, and should put that hand down."

"Antonia, it's because I'm gay that I don't want to see you naked."

"No arguments, I need you to squeal over this with me, it's beautiful," she grabbed the Canadian by the arm, pecked Francis on the cheek and proceeded to drag Matthew to the dress.

"Hey, I thought he was in a relationship?" he complained softly as he was force-marched into the next room.

"Some people get all the luck," Francis sighed, going over to the paperwork Matthew had been doing and starting to finish it off.

~====o)0(o====~

"Gilbert," Lovino yelled, "have you seen my fucking tie?"

With more patience than anyone would have thought him capable of, the albino held up the offending article of fabric only to have it snatched from his fingers with a semi-grateful muttering of "potato-eating bastard."

It was seven o' clock, and although he wouldn't usually be getting ready for another twenty-five minutes, Lovino's date was in half an hour, and he wanted everything to be perfect.

"Do I have the ring?" the Italian asked, frantically patting down his pockets. The German groaned and threw an arm over his eyes,

"How the fuck am I supposed to know? It's your ring. Fucking weird one, too."

Lovino shot him a look of pure poison,

"I know for a fact that she'll love it, and you know it, too," there was a flash of uncertainty in the mobster's eyes, and Gil picked up on it. Who said he was a thoughtless dick? Aside from his brother, his girlfriend and his employer.

"That doesn't mean it isn't fucking weird. It just means that she is, too," Once again, a glare that would have fried chicken was aimed at the German.

"Don't you fucking dare talk about mia adorata Antonia like that!" he snapped, hand flicking towards his gun.

"Okay, straight up, dude. One, you did not just try and shoot me. Secondly," and here he chuckled a little, "I'm carrying the heavy armaments tonight. You need to have a romantic evening with your adorata Antonia. And thirdly, she's going to have a fucking fit when I tell her you said that!"

"If you want to keep your job, you are not going to tell her I said that!" Gilbert raised his hands in surrender.

Yeah . . . he was still going to tell her.

~====o)0(o====~

Utterly wearied by her constant shrieking and endearments towards Francis, Matthew flopped down next to Francis on the loveseat of their hotel room.

"Bye, boys! Don't wait up!" she called as the door closed behind her, almost catching the tail of her dress.

"Alone at last," the Canadian sighed heavily, cleaning his glasses on the hem of Francis's silk shirt, "at least once they're married we can have some serious quality time together."

Rolling over and straddling Matthew the Frenchman took his spectacles and placed them on the coffee table.

"Indeed!"

~====o)0(o====~

Lovino was absolutely gobsmacked. He had asked Francis to make sure that Antonia had something decent to wear tonight, but this was unbelievable. The heavy fabric of her dress was so dark that it was almost black, but he could see flashes of forest green were the light caught it. It was sleeveless, high-backed and somehow demure in the way that it clung to her torso and hung straight over her hips, flaring out as she walked, hinting at the subtly voluminous skirts the folds hid.

"You look nice," he grumbled half-heartedly. She looked stunning. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen; and the most frightening. She had taken the whole "I'm heir to the mob" thing pretty smoothly, but this? This was a whole other level.

"Gracias, mi tomatito," she smiled, and he felt heart explode into a thousand tiny fireworks, just like it did every time.

"C'mon. We're going to miss our reservations," he took her hand, and felt a blush rising as though he were some junior-school geek asking out the head cheerleader.

Another mind-wiping smile and she followed him to the boat. It was a slow ride to the restaurant, but it was a clear night and the stars were reminding the Italian strongly of the diamonds he had in his pocket, which he patted, just in case. They were still there.

"You're being such a gentleman tonight, Lovi," she said, squeezing his fingers as he helped her from the boat. He blushed shamelessly. He couldn't help it. Not when she put up with all his shit and decoded all the things he couldn't bring himself to say. Well. Tonight was the night to say them.

"Vargas, one table for two, one for one," he said to the host, who's eyes widened. Quickly showing them to their seats (Gilbert was two tables over in case of trouble) he laid down the menus, and hurried away. When he returned, Lovino ordered a light salad and a white wine to start and Spanish red wine with beef as their main.

Idle chit-chat guided the evening until the desert course arrived with champagne. It was just a light sorbet, but Antonia's eyes lit up. He knew it was one of her favourites. As was everything that they had eaten.

"You know, Lovi," she sighed, resting her chin in her hands as she looked out over the Grand Canal, which glimmered with a thousand golden lights, "I want to tell our children about this night."

Maybe sooner than you think, he gulped, his face as red as the tomatoes she so loved. Sliding down onto one knee he took her left hand, fumbling for the ring in his pocket,

"Antonia, I - porco Dio!" he swore as the tiny velveteen box slipped through his fingers like a greased fish, and he hurried to snatch it up.

"Lovino Vargas, I should wash your mouth out with soap!" she scolded harshly, her carefree face folding into a frown.

"Give me a minute, woman, I'm nervous here!" he hissed, opening the jewel box and showing it to her. Inside was an oval cut ruby surrounded by V patterns of teardrop diamonds. On the broader side of the ruby, two of the diamonds had been replaced with emeralds.

Antonia looked at him, and suddenly he could feel himself perspire as though he were sweating the south pacific ocean.

"Antonia Fernanda Carriedo," he said, his body almost numb, his mind detached from the whole experience and his heart leaping about his chest like his brother after too much gelato, "You are the most important thing to me in this whole wide world. You are the most beautiful, brilliant, loving woman I have ever, and will ever meet. The Lord knows I am not a good man, but they say that behind every good man is a good woman and Antonia, you are a good, good woman. I knew from the second I saw you that God had sent you, an angel, to help me become a good man. Every moment I'm with you," he paused to tug at his collar, acutely aware that more than half of the patrons were now listening to him propose, and that Gilbert was filming this on his cell phone, "I feel like I'm falling in love with you again, like I can do and be better. I know I don't always treat you the way you deserve, but ti amo. I-I love you Antonia, mi pomodora. Will you marry me?"

"Oh, Lovi," another earth shattering smile graced her lips, "mi amor, mi querido, me tessoro, mi tomatito. Te amo, también. Of course I will marry you! Si, si, si!"

The restaurant erupted into a fountain of cheers as he slipped his ring onto her finger and she pulled him up into a kiss. Usually, he feared public displays of affection like he feared contacting the Ebola virus, but this just felt right, a soft, sweet kiss to seal the deal.

Apart, she could be brainless and he could be pissy, but together they balanced each other out, better than the most perfectly cut puzzle pieces.

If you asked Lovino about it later, he would have told you to shut the fuck up and go die in a ditch somewhere, but at the time he couldn't stop the tear of joy that ran down his face. Antonia till looks at her tomato-diamond ring and remembers how she wiped that tear away and locked it in her heart.

~====o)0(o====~

It's ridiculously fluffy, and kind of out of character, but I hope you enjoyed it!

Title is after the Barenaked Ladies song of the same name (I have a song for every occasion. Trust me). I said I wouldn't talk about Canada, but damn it, I lied! I just love Mattie too much. u_u

Thank you for reading!

~RutheLa