Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.
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Antonio didn't get up as late as everyone thought he did, really, but it was much more fun if Romano woke him up.
"Hey, bastard, get up. You're so fucking lazy."
Not…not fun, maybe, but much more eventful. Antonio cracked open his eyes, seeing Romano hover over him with a scowl on his face. "Good morning, sweetheart," he yawned, reaching up and pulling Romano on top of him.
Romano flushed, the red covering his face. "Don't say stupid things like that!" he snapped, trying to get out of Antonio's embrace. "And let go of me! You just woke up! You're supposed to be weak and all that crap!"
It had been twelve years since they'd picked up Romano.
And Romano had grown up beautifully. His features had lost all of their childish cuteness and evolved into a mature charm. He'd grown tall and lanky, shooting up from staring up to speak to Antonio to shoulder height. He hadn't lost his habit of charging and tackling when he was mad, but Antonio supposed it was part of his cuteness.
He also supposed falling in love with Romano was close to inevitable.
"Good morning kiss?" he suggested, running a hand through Romano's hair.
"…I guess, you bastard." Leaning against the Spaniard's chest, Romano kissed him quickly before leaping up and out of bed. "Now get up, you idiot. The kraut demands breakfast."
Yes, they had moved far in the twelve years, and they had changed scenery more times than usual, and this was now his apartment but Gilbert had insisted on bunking with him both from laziness on the albino's part to find a place and his inability to convince any landlord or lady that he was capable of taking care of a room, much less an entire apartment.
So, in Antonio's flat he stayed.
"Took you long enough to wake up," Gilbert yawned, slouching over the island that also served as a dining table. Romano smacked him across the head as he took the seat farthest from the sleepy albino. Antonio, who had since grown used to chef duties, tied an apron around his waist without complaint.
"Francis isn't here?" Francis, undoubtedly the most mature of the trio, had found his own apartment (a penthouse, the rich son of a bitch), one which Gilbert frequented as well. This didn't stop the infamous lady-killer from crashing at Antonio's – after all, everyone loved the spacey idiot.
"No. He said he had to get up early to get to the studio."
"Huh. I figured since you had to get me to cook for you and you prefer Francis's food to mine."
"Why don't you cook yourself if you're such a picky bastard?" Romano asked, giving Gilbert a snide look over his hands.
"Why don't you just shut up, you noisy brat? You know, if Antonio wouldn't beat my sorry ass, I'd have fucked you up years ago."
"I'm sorry, I'm not interested in apes," Romano retorted coolly.
"Let's not have a war at the breakfast table!" Antonio said cheerfully, slapping coffee in front of the two in effort to silence them. "Romano," he started, changing the subject as Gilbert scalded his mouth on the hot coffee, "did you say you were going to make dinner tonight?"
"Yeah." He glanced over at Gilbert, still fanning his mouth. "The kraut has to leave, though."
"Fine," Gilbert spat, his eyes watering. "I know when I'm not needed. I'll go over to Francis's. He'll have me."
"I have to go shopping though," Romano mused, blowing on the coffee (two creams, one sugar, damn Antonio knew what he liked). "The groceries you buy are less than adequate."
"Oh, so we have an iron chef on our hands," Gilbert mocked, throwing his hands up.
"Fuck you!" Romano chirped with a smile. "I'll grab breakfast on my way out. I've got a lot to do and I can't stand Gilbert anymore." Downing the coffee with the will of a Mafioso, he squeezed by Antonio to the door, pecking him on the cheek and rushing out before anyone could catch his flush. As the door slammed, Gilbert whistled.
"So you're planning on tonight? You sick, sick bastard." Gilbert leaned back and watched Antonio squirm. "Well? Let me see it."
Antonio bit his lip, before relenting and reaching into a back pocket and pulling out a box. Rushing over to Gilbert secretly, as if anyone was watching from the window, he opened it to reveal a modest gold band. "Do you think he'll say yes?" he asked eagerly.
Gilbert scoffed. "Of course he will. He'd kill you if you didn't propose by now." He cocked his head. "I suppose it's all for good. It sort of marks the end of that part of us."
Antonio nodded, tucking the ring box back into his pocket. They had grown up too; no longer did they steal or upset the order of things – he had become a waiter at a local restaurant, Gilbert did odd jobs around but managed to earn a living, Francis had become a lyricist for a composer. This town for sure was big enough to hide them and provide the place where they could finally settle down and breathe a sigh of relief. They had been running for a while and hiding and it was time to start new. "I want to propose after dinner," he announced, finishing the eggs he had been frying. "So…I don't mean to kick you out but…"
"I get it," Gilbert sighed, rolling his eyes. "I definitely don't want to be watching the two of you release your sexual tension. I'll go pay a visit to Francis or something."
"Thanks!" Antonio couldn't help it; he smiled broadly. Things were finally going well, much better than the life he had run from, run into. He was an adult and he had outgrown the childish whims they used to indulge in. They didn't steal anymore, they were respectable citizens, and he and Romano were in love. And on the very day of their fateful meeting, he would seal up the past with the proposal. Fairy tales couldn't have spun it better.
--
For the record, Gilbert was sure he had fallen for Romano the moment the boy's voice cracked when he was fourteen. When the brat's voice switched from high baby to budding maturity, he had been hit with a newsflash. What the fuck am I doing here?
He always liked the feisty ones. Even before they dropped out, he had liked to flirt with the homicidal girl Elizavita who sat next to him in homeroom. He supposed it resulted from the kindergarten friendship he struck up with Natalia, that scary blonde girl who clung to her older brother when he left for the elementary school. Anyway, he'd been friends with so many scary people, he supposed it was normal to like scary people.
He wasn't sure if he had a chance. He was twenty-four, Romano was fourteen. That was definite pedophilia, and even though he told his two friends everything that went through his mind, this definitely wasn't going to leave his lips. So he watched the boy, taking his side when he got in fights with Antonio, running for a cold shower if Romano wrestled him for control of the remote.
He'd met others, took dates, had flings, but they all left him for reasons that could possibly have nothing to do with his awesome. Romano was always there, to laugh at him when he came home jilted, to gloat when Gilbert explained the reason that was screamed in his face when the date in question slammed the door in his face. It was him Romano went to when Antonio refused to explain something or Francis refused to teach him. He was the badass the teenage rebel in Romano came to!
Francis would undoubtedly make a big deal, so it was Gilbert who learned first that Romano had developed a crush on Antonio. It was his turn to laugh when Romano pulled him into a corner and whispered about his first wet dream. I'm sixteen, Romano had cried, looking utterly terrified, and he's twenty six and he treats me like a brother. This is a phase, right? I'll grow out of it right? Please tell me I'll grow out of it, Gilbert! This is too goddamn scary for me to handle!
So Gilbert, who had since become professional in hiding his feelings for Romano, had become the master in teaching Romano how to hide his feelings from Antonio (which was no hard feat, as the Spaniard was quite dense). He learned the subtle hints the boy could send and saw none shooting in his direction and he knew when Antonio came to him one night while drunk and expressed an interest in Romano that he was utterly screwed.
"He'd kill you if you didn't propose by now." Because it was what he had to say, because Antonio was his best friend and Romano was his fellow badass and he was not going to be a third body, if he wasn't wanted. Now the ring was something material, it was real and as Gilbert descended the stairs (the damn elevator in Antonio's building was always broken!), he couldn't shake the fact he wanted this so damn bad and he wasn't going to get it.
--
Francis was early, because fashionably late wasn't really fashionable. He checked his watch, tapping a slight tune as he waited in the doorway of the studio. No rush. He had smirked at the women who had walked past and checked him out in his cream slacks and gray Fedora. But of course, anyone in the music industry had to look good.
"You look like a million bucks, as usual," the receptionist had told him as she unlocked the building. "You sure you don't want to wait inside?"
"No, thank you. I'll be fine outside, and it's a nice day anyway."
"I'm so sorry! My econ class went too long and the professor wouldn't let us out!" A bike was racing toward him, carrying a messy blonde with a half-zipped bookbag on one shoulder and one hand on the handlebars of the red racing bike. The college student's glasses nearly skittered off his face as he stopped the bike abruptly and was nearly flung forward if Francis hadn't reached out to steady him.
"I only got here a few minutes ago, Matthew. Don't worry about it. You'll kill yourself if you rush through traffic like that."
Matthew laughed, pressing the glasses up his nose again. "You shouldn't like how I drive then!" Locking the bike on the rack outside, he checked his bag. "Whew! My research paper's still here. Oh! I didn't bring my notebook! I knew I forgot something! I'll go get it, it's at my place a few blocks down, so it won't take too long…"
"Whoa, whoa, Matthew!" Francis grasped the fretting boy's shoulders and turned him to face him. "Matthew Williams. You're not listening to yourself. You're a singer. Your anxiety will mess up your vocals."
"Right, right, right…but it's my fault. I was trying to get out of class and I woke up late this morning and I had to run to see you…" As the words left his lips, the boy flushed, his fingers fluttering up to his mouth as if he could grab the words back from the air and back.
Francis grinned, slinging an easy arm across Matthew's shoulders. "Now that's not a lie, is it? Never worry, darling! I wrote you a song last night. You've got a record deal on the line, remember? The sooner you crank out the songs, the faster you can get your pretty face on all the magazines, eh?" He nudged Matthew gently. "Give me a smile, sweetheart."
A small curve graced Matthew's mouth as they walked through the reception area to one of the recording studio's rooms. "Nice," Francis said, his voice dropping a few octaves. "Now how about a kiss?"
"I don't know, Francis," Matthew murmured, reaching for the keys for their recording room. "It might not do my vocals too good."
"You can either worry or you can kiss. I hope you'll pick the million dollar choice, Matthew."
The lock clicked, and Matthew turned to Francis. "Oh, that's actually kind of hard," he mused. "Worrying is my way of stress relief!" But he smiled as he reached over and grasped Francis's collar, pulling him into the room. The lyricist tried not to look satisfied with himself but shot the receptionist watching him a smirk as he closed the door behind him.
--
Of course he knew. Romano had known for a while, from the very day Antonio went and bought the ring. It was just about when that bastard would finally pop the question, and how surprised he should act.
He would be playing into the stereotype of giggly girl if he went over the top, Romano decided, stepping onto the street and making his way down the sidewalk to the outdoor market. Produce always tasted better out in the open air. He was certain Antonio would prefer for him to get teary and pleasantly astonished, but he didn't think he could pull it off without puking.
But if he didn't act shocked and just said yes, he didn't think Antonio would be happy either. The bastard was hard to please, really. The idiot would sulk and be upset that the surprise was ruined. But Romano felt as if he was insulting himself for pretending he didn't know, when it was so obvious, especially when Antonio had almost had an aneurism when Romano poked about his room.
He wasn't very sure what to do.
He didn't think very many people in his position would take things in stride like he did. Not only had he been whisked away after his parents and baby twin brother died, but he had been cared for by three less-than-parental friends, and learned from them, as they were somehow adamant about him not going to actual school. He had his own collection of homes and cities and tutors and home school teachers, but he had finally finished what anyone else would have called a high school education. Now Antonio was insisting on getting married, Romano could see his makeshift school was over and he had graduated.
Still…he shouldn't complain, really, but it was in his blood…he reached the outskirts of the market, surrounded by satisfied housewives and their produce, and wondered if they would let him go to college.
So he didn't mind learning! That didn't make him a freak! Just because the trio had dropped out of high school didn't mean he should stop at that! Romano pondered the thought, musing if he should bring it up after he accepted Antonio's proposal. Surely the idiot would be too happy to say no?
The tomatoes were looking nice in the sun. Actually, everything was. He always had the eye for groceries; Gilbert was too intent on making a fuss, Francis usually headed for the wine aisle, and Antonio was always distracted on other things than to make the best choices. Really, he should go shopping more often. It was only recently Antonio was okay with him leaving the house alone. The three used to be so protective, always making sure one of them followed him whenever he went anywhere. He wasn't going to run away.
As Romano picked up a banana squash, he was hit with the realization again. He was going to get married.
"Are you okay?" the vendor asked as Romano felt the blood rush to his face. He was going to get married, to the bastard he'd fallen for when he was young and stupid; hell, maybe he was still young and stupid. Damn his ingrained romanticism! He'd have to cook everything better tonight, to make it a proper proposal dinner. He was getting married!
Just thinking about it made him flail a bit (so he sometimes got overexcited. Sue him) and he accidentally smacked someone behind him in the face. "I'm sorry!" he apologized quickly, the mean streak in him gone if he wasn't dealing with the bad friends trio. The person he had hit was whimpering, clutching his cheek so his hands were hiding his face. It couldn't have been that bad of a bruise, could it? "Are you okay? It was my fault." Although maybe you shouldn't have been standing right behind me, really.
"No! I'm okay! It was also my fault. I was trying to look for someone." The person straightened up, leveling off at Romano's height, and he shook his head as he took his hands off his face.
Romano found himself staring at a mirror image of himself, a mirror image whose eyes widened and glomped him, squealing, "You're alive! You're alive! I knew you were alive!"
Romano could hardly compose himself to respond when his twin pulled at him, looking utterly elated. "Come on! You've got to come home with me to see mammina and papà! They've been worried sick about you!"
To be continued
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Note: SpeakingThroughWrittenWords, you are influencing me too much. I feel like a back-story is in order. Francis was lurking around a café, where Matthew happened to be writing lyrics to music he had composed and Francis happened to help him with a particularly troublesome spot. So now, he is Matthew's lyricist. I blame Gravitation, which I have recently started reading. Ugh, STWW, you seriously are too awesome for me to comprehend. I sort of want to write their back stories now. Stop me, someone! Just throw knives at me!