A/N: Holidays are a great way to inspire and my most recent to Rome really was. About halfway through I suddenly got a certain image of Boyd in my head and it left me chuckling for the rest of it. I just had to write it down. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it too. Many, many thanks go out to ShadowSamurai83 for the beta and the encouragement. And to Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. Just because.

Enjoy.

Vacanze Romanze

There are things in life of which you know, even before they begin, that they can't end well. There is absolutely no doubt in your mind that it will end in disaster and yet, you go on with them anyway. What is this aspect of the human personality - masochism? Stupidity? Hope? All of the above and then some?

There's also the fact that quite often, it's not the big disasters that throw a person down, but the small annoyances that chip away at their happiness.

All this is what we need to take into account when we take a look at this little...well...

It had been Boyd's idea and that in itself should have warned everybody on the planet, especially Grace. Boyd wanting to take her on an extended weekend. On holiday. Just the two of them. In Rome.

Grace, normally being the smart and wise woman she was, should have known she was setting herself up for a debacle. Only...when it came to Boyd, wise and smart left her and made space for rose-coloured glasses. The sex was incredible, so you might forgive her for the lapse in sensible judgement.

Their relationship was still very fresh, they hadn't even made it beyond the date and sex stage yet. They went out for dinner and wine and ended up in her bed or his, whichever was closer. Whose place it wasn't usually left early in the morning - dishevelled, wrinkled clothes - to go home to shower, change and have breakfast. Once they met again at work, nothing gave them away.

It suited them both just fine at the moment, both still nervous around each other with the changes taking place. Still, when Boyd suggested they go away, to Rome, for a long weekend, Grace had not protested.

Let's face it; the sunny weather, the breathtaking scenery, the incredible food and tasty wine, and all of Peter Boyd to herself for four full days, she would have beaten herself up forever not to accept the offer.

Swansea, Oxford or Whitby might have fulfilled the same purpose - a place away to have Boyd all to herself for a weekend, but which woman can resist the temptation of a romance laden Mediterranean city?

Be honest. You wouldn't either.

So she packed her suitcase, arranged for a cover story, and joined him in the cab to the airport. The ride there went quick and smooth and that alone should have warned her that luck wouldn't hold out long, but they were doing just a tad bit of necking in the backseat, enough for the cabbie to smirk to himself and roll his eyes. People in love, one would think at that age they would show a little more restraint, but there you go.

Heathrow was its usual insane self with rushing people, screaming children, gossipy pensioners, and obnoxious teenagers. The cues in front of the service desks were unaccountably long, even though by now you had to check in at a machine and only go to the counter to drop your luggage. Grace didn't even need to look to know that Boyd was tensing up by the minute and there'd be an explosion before the trip was over.

A soothing hand on his arm that moved down and entwined their fingers helped, but then came the wait before the gate and that was when things started to go to hell in a basket case. Because their booking was such short notice, they'd have to lay over in Zurich, the time there short as it was. However, their plane taking them to Zurich was late. And later. And even later.

It was a dead giveaway that there was no plane at the gate. Twenty minutes after the original boarding time Grace, knowing it would provide more success if she did it, went to the counter and asked about their options concerning their following flight. She cringed with the answer, but surprisingly Boyd didn't explode - yet - at the idea that they'd be rebooked for the second flight with no extra charge, considering it wasn't their fault. Honestly, the airline messes up their schedule for one reason or the other and then tell their customers it isn't their fault? Who is at fault then? The hole in the ozone layer?

In the end, the plane arrived - one is grateful - and off they were. Thankfully there were no small children on board. It isn't the babies' fault either that flying hurts and upsets them and their only way of expressing themselves is by screaming, but the other passengers are easily annoyed by two hours of screaming. Boyd was no exception and if she was perfectly honest with herself, neither was Grace. Still, they had two seats next to each other, the attendants left them alone most of the time, so they could throw in a little kissing and necking there as well.

Being newly in love, well in sex, really drowned out all the negativity of the world.

Unbelievably, they made it to Zurich on time, the next plane was waiting and with a few very quick steps they reached the gate there. Only there was another security check and this one caught Boyd full on. Three times through the security lock and it still reacted to whatever Boyd had on him. The body check left Grace with a few ideas which she could mask as little as the snicker over the fact that of all people it happened to Peter. When he was asked to take off his shoes, the snickers turned into full-blown chuckles. They stopped, however, upon the storm brewing on his face.

The only thing to prevent an explosion was to press herself against him, kiss him and whisper a few of those ideas. The effect was immediate, his reaction passionate, and damn, if it didn't leave her with weak knees. Him with another problem. But that's beside the point.

The view from the plane window, sunset over the clouds, was breathtaking, romantic and, at this point, Peter really relaxed. So much, in fact, that he stopped fretting about their possibly/surely lost luggage.

Things seemed to look up.

The landing in Rome wasn't quite as smooth as in Zurich, but finally being there they were far from complaining. Not for long, though. The next obstacle was just around the corner and it came in the form of the baggage claim. Which didn't provide their suitcases. In fact, it didn't give out any suitcases. There was just a lonely bag circling and circling. It wasn't from their flight, the screen announcing at least five other flights to claim their luggage before them.

It was one of those nervous-making things. And it was getting late and you never knew what could go wrong as well, considering the clichs about Rome and Italy being what they were. The baggage claim just strengthened those it seemed, and as Grace was getting hungry, not to mention tired - she hadn't slept well the night before, anticipation and nervousness keeping her awake most of the night - she was in no mood to placate the tyrant, as handsome as he was.

In the end, it took half an hour before anything happened, but surprise of surprises, they both left with their suitcases. And apart from quite a bit of road rage and traffic jam, that was it for the day.

Thank God!

Sort of.

Dinner was great indeed. The wine too. Only, the waiter - swarmy and slicked, according to Boyd - liked Grace a little too much. It made for great service at their table, but for quite a bit of cock fighting between the two men. In retrospect, it would be one of the funniest things Grace would ever have to tell about the trip, but at that time in space it was just unbelievable.

Boyd grumbled all the way back to their hotel, which wasn't far, and in a way, Grace would have liked nothing better but to send him on his way to cool off. Placating a territorial lover over a few innocent compliments was not on her agenda. The lover was supposed to love the territory of her body. Thoroughly. Imaginatively. Extensively. Tenderly. Passionately. And...erm...all right, all right. We stop here.

The location of the hotel was great. The hotel looked great. If you overlooked the chipped off paint and wall papers and the dark spots in the corners of the elevator. The bathroom in their room was clean and only a tad bit on the small side, if you were only five foot tall and rather bendy. But hey, it was a last minute thing and it was clean, right? And neither Boyd nor Grace had really planned for bathroom sex. Well, not for the first night at least.

A much bigger problem was the squeaky bed. And the fact that their room went out to the street side. Let me tell you one thing - Rome is a noisy city. Even at night.

The idea of extended sex and making lots of noise went right out of the window. It might have given any passers by quite a bit of a show, but English reticence ruled in this case. So, no sex that night. On the other hand, it had been a long day and sleep sounded like a good plan anyway.

For our awww-moment, let's take a look at our couple, holding each other tight and sleeping peacefully. Who'd have thought, Boyd manages that, huh? Awwww...

The new morning dawned and even at the early hour, barely 7, one could see the clouds moving in and covering the sun. Before 8 had come by, it was raining. Mind you, rain in Rome is still a damn sight better than in London - it's not cold - but it was rain and if you planned to do sightseeing, rain was a no-no. You know, all those broken down buildings they call antique ruins? All in open space. Rain is definitely bad.

Our couple, still sleeping on the squeaky bed, didn't mind yet. They were sleeping.

So, fastforward to ten and we have our couple up and fighting with a few minor problems. You remember the bathroom? Good, so you get the picture. You will also remember their relationship-routine up to this point. This was actually the first morning where they really had to get ready for the day together and between showering - alone, unfortunately - shaving, getting hair and make-up done, and getting dressed. It was taking a while.

Strangely enough, both Grace and Boyd felt a little awkward around each other. They had seen each other naked. A few weeks of dinner dates and sex had seen to that. No, they are not turning the lights off, so forget it. But broad daylight has a way of showing off the wrinkles and the lines and the paunch and the sag that is not entirely an ego boost. So moving awkwardly, smiling somewhat awkwardly, neither knew what to say and do really.

They found a little coffee bar around the corner and after the caffeine hit of that first espresso, the awkwardness was slowly receding, along with the tension in Boyd's frame. The second coffee was ordered and quickly given and with it, the tension in Boyd rose again.

What was it with these Roman men? Yes, Grace was a very attractive woman. He should know. He did, in fact. But did every man in Rome have to hit on his...lover? Partner? Girlfriend?

Every man?

Of course, Grace was oblivious to this. Naive, he sometimes thought, but swallowed it for the time being and kept things to a dangerous glare at that barista-Romeo.

With the thought in mind, it didn't get better. Every man seemed to look too long, seemed to make lewd comments and gestures, and as the minutes and hours passed by, Boyd felt ready to punch somebody. It wasn't helped by the fact that Grace insisted on taking a bus to the sights, and the bus was jostling them about, road rage didn't even begin to describe what happened on the streets. And it was still raining.

He had envisioned these few days and, though he'd never tell, it had been a rather romantic vision. Of Grace in his arm, strolling down one of those sunny streets and then necking in the shadowy alleys of a park. Him looking cool and debonair with sunglasses on.

Forget the sunglasses, it was umbrellas.

What Boyd had also not expected, was...well...the culture. Grace had read up a bit in travel guides, something Boyd had laughed off before, but now it showed. She didn't seem to know where to go first. The only certain thing was, it was an endless string of churches, museums and open air sights.

Boyd was as historically interested as the next person, even more so, he'd have rightfully claimed, but this was madness. At least the Forum and the Coliseum seemed out of the running, because of the weather. But the Capitoline Museum was packed because of it, long cues at the ticket booths and the wardrobe, masses of people inside. And everywhere seemed to be groups of teenagers who had no other aim in life but to be obnoxious and annoy everybody else.

The poor, poor man. Please, pity him for a minute, it's a hard-knock life he leads there. World heritage culture is draining, especially without another caffeine fix. Grace, however, didn't seem interested in providing him with one. Or some other kind of relaxation, if you catch my drift.

Poor Boyd, indeed.

So, the day dragged on and so did he, his mood deteriorating from the low it had been on. Grace thrived on the artefacts, he on every seat he could find. When it was finally done, the aspect of having bought a combined ticket for yet another site was quickly pushed aside in the hopes of finding something for lunch.

In fact, he was so hungry that most things could be pushed aside. Even the continuous rain. For the time being.

Grace smiled at him under their umbrella, snuggled against him and under different circumstances he might have danced with her around the Capitol. As it was, it was raining and he was hungry, annoyed and in desperate need of a loo. And there was none around. Typical, right?

They walked by several restaurants, but somehow none appealed. Boyd was getting into the mood of a whiny child. Too small, too empty, too full, too expensive, too cheap, nothing on the menu, didn't look appealing. Had he taken a moment to snap out of it and look at the lady who he had planned to romance this weekend, he might have noticed that her posture was beginning to tense as well. There was a small frown on her face, a sigh released into the rain.

Unfortunately, we all know Boyd. So did Grace, but this very reasonable argument didn't reset the rose-coloured glasses. Besides, she was exhausted, hungry, a little annoyed by the teenagers and the rain and had biological needs herself. She was, frankly spoken, not in the mood to step back and let Boyd complain.

And he could be so considerate in the bedroom...

Come on, everybody, you all knew that this line would come.

But let's not digress.

Lunch.

And no, Boyd is not for lunch.

So, lunch. Finally they found a place and got their food and a little bit of wine. The place hadn't looked too appealing in its furnishings, but the waiters spoke English, the menu looked good and reasonably priced and the food was, indeed, great.

Only...remember this strange affliction men seemed have in this city? The one Grace was oblivious to, but Boyd noticed? And being the territorial man and alpha-male he is, had a huge problem with?

Bingo. We've got another case here at lunch.

As a detective it was in Boyd's nature to find out why something was or happened and the interest Grace raised was a serious problem. The solution was obvious too. She encouraged them. The smiles and the laughs, the small talk in broken Italian. She did that on purpose, flirted with other men before his very eyes!

That was it.

His expression and his mood darkened even further.

Grace gave him a long look, then another. It wasn't difficult, because he was/is really easy on the eyes, but something in his demeanour told her that they'd have an unpleasant showdown before the day was out. If she was honest with herself, Grace suspected it would be before dinner. It had been his idea and nobody could have foreseen the bad weather and yes, the waiters were a little too enthusiastic, but he was way overreacting.

True, she had imagined this weekend to be a little different as well - in fact, romantic strolls in sunny streets, intermixed with long warm nights of wild and slow sex. What she had not imagined at all was to be forced to continuously soothe and placate a scowling grump. She was doing enough of that at work. It was her time off, her bloody romantic holiday. She wanted to feel like Audrey Hepburn, not like... it's a fantasy, people. Grace knows she doesn't look anything like a 24 year old Audrey Hepburn.

Still, what she was getting here was nothing like the fairytale romance she had envisioned. Actually...

It didn't get better. Not that anybody had expected it too. The rain was still there. The hordes of teenagers as well. The streets were packed and difficult to navigate with the masses of umbrellas. The atmosphere was hectic. Everything was actually like London. Only warmer.

But it didn't help.

And...it was no surprise in the end, because you remember all the factors we have to take into account?

In front of the Pantheon it happened. The Piazza Rotonda was packed, despite the rain, and that was a good thing, because only a few people watched as a woman started yelling at her scowling companion. In refined English, but it was yelling and it was easy to see that the woman was really, really, really pissed. I mean, 'really' pissed off.

There were words of the man being a grump, an idiot - she didn't say arsehole, but one could infer she thought it - and of her regretting having agreed to go with him. Any onlookers might wonder why the woman had gone, if she - as she yelled as well - had known how it would be. But human beings, especially when angry, are irrational.

So seemed the woman, who after delivering a mighty push to her companion, grabbed the umbrella and marched off.

She disappeared into the crowd in less than a minute.

And Boyd stood there in the middle of the busiest square in Rome, dripping with rain and looking for all it was worth like a drowned puppy whose girlfriend had just run out on him.

Which she had.

Oooops.

Thank you for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.