La Carlota
Champagne
Lovino awoke to find that he was in the opening of a romance novel. There was the distant sound of birds and cows outside the window, the sunlight shining through the lace curtains, and the smell of a homemade breakfast wafted through the house. He rolled over and saw the red numbers of the alarm clock he had found on the nightstand last night saying that it was just past ten o'clock. With a slight groan, he sat up and grabbed his cell phone from beside the clock, turning it on and sliding it into the pocket of his pajama pants.
The scent of eggs and bacon permeated his nose as he woke up even more, and he stood and rifled through his suitcase to put on a shirt so that he didn't seem indecent when he walked in on Antonio. Lovino yawned as he pulled on a plain undershirt and opened the door to his room. He was greeted by the soft sound of singing and the smell of breakfast hit him hard. His stomach growled. He closed the door behind him and wandered down the hall and into the living room, where he could see Antonio standing at the stove.
Shirtless.
"Shit-" Lovino clapped a hand over his mouth and prepared to turn around, but the Spaniard seemed to have heard him and spun away from the stove, his own expression shocked.
"Lovino!" He stumbled as he stepped back from the stove and dropped the spatula he'd been holding. A flush turned his dark skin even darker and he circled around out of the kitchen, a hand crossing over his bare torso to scratch his shoulder. "I'm so sorry! I totally forgot you would be here! Let me go…" Antonio hurried past Lovino, who was still trying to hide his own red face, and disappeared down the hallway that the Italian had just come from.
Lovino faced toward the kitchen again, noticing then that Antonio had left the stove on and whatever was in the pan he had been cooking was more than likely getting burnt. He stepped forward and saw what looked to be an omelet littered with tomatoes; he could get into that. Glancing around at the counter, he picked up the spatula that had been abandoned and flipped the omelet, happy to see that it wasn't burnt, before lifting it up and depositing it onto an empty plate that sat beside a bowl holding a whisk. The brunet noticed the rest of the ingredients, his mouth watering at the sight of another bowl brimming with Roma tomatoes. It wasn't long until he had another omelet going, this time with more tomatoes.
He turned around to place the second omelet on the counter behind him, the plates now decorated with cheese he had found in the refrigerator, more sliced tomatoes, and a sprig of mint he pulled from a plant sitting on the window sill above the sink just as Antonio made his way back into the living room, pulling a shirt on over his head. Lovino glanced up, his flush returning slightly, and looked away to turn the stove off. He stood awkwardly when the other came into the kitchen and stared at the omelets in surprise.
"Well now I feel silly!" Antonio said, "I was supposed to be the wonderful host and surprise you with a nice breakfast." He smiled brightly at Lovino, who shrugged and leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. "Care to join me at the table?"
"Sure. Thanks." The Italian followed as the older man grabbed the plates and carried them over to a breakfast nook that he just now noticed; it was tucked away at the end of the kitchen, pushed into the small area created by a bay window that looked out on a garden. Lovino couldn't help but stare at the rows of fresh green plants that gave way to the hills of the vineyard, lines of grapes growing for as far as he could see. He sat down at the table, nodding in thanks as Antonio set one of the plates in front of him.
The Spaniard headed back toward the kitchen after setting his own plate down across from Lovino. "Would you like something to drink?" he called, the sound of silverware being pushed around accompanying his voice.
"Um, yeah, thank you."
He returned after a minute or so, handing over a fork and a glass filled with something bubbling. Lovino looked at the drink with a raised eyebrow, then met Antonio's gaze as he sat down and took a sip of his own drink with a smile. In the sunlight, Lovino was finally able to take in the man's features. He was taller than the Italian by a few inches, his body lean but his arms strong from obvious work in the fields; when he had happened upon him in the kitchen earlier, Lovino had seen the muscles and tension in his back, as well as a glimpse of the hardness of his chest and stomach. The hair on his body was fine and almost invisible, but the mop on his head was a deep brown, choppy and thick and still slightly mussed from sleep. His face was strong as well, with the ghost of stubble on his jaw and eyes as green as leaves in summer.
He was intensely attractive, and Lovino suddenly found it difficult for him to look away. He did, eventually, if only to get to his breakfast before it became cold, and took a drink from his glass. The sizzle of carbonation woke up his taste buds and then he was hit with the tang and airiness of champagne. Lovino's eyes must have widened in surprise because Antonio laughed shortly from his seat, attacking his omelet with his fork and chopping it into smaller bites.
"Sorry, I prefer wine with my breakfast but I figured I should ask before giving you something strong," he explained, taking another sip from his glass.
Lovino shook his head and took his own drink before tucking in to his omelet; the tomatoes were obviously fresh, something he could very much appreciate. "It's fine. Just took me by surprise. You would think I were still sixteen from the amount of alcohol my family lets me drink." He scowled lightly, taking another bite.
Antonio was still watching him. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-two. You?"
"Twenty-five." The Spaniard smiled again as he swirled his champagne in its glass. He turned to look out of the window beside him before looking back. "So what brings you to Spain, Mr. Italy?"
Lovino raised an eyebrow again. "My accent is that horrible, huh?"
Antonio laughed and nodded. "Yes, but I can at least understand you, so you don't have to be self-conscious about it."
"I'm not self-conscious!" Lovino retorted, a blush reddening his cheeks. He went back to his food, gathering a couple slices of tomato on his fork and chewing them harshly. The jerk was still laughing at him. "At least quit laughing, jeez."
The other finally calmed himself, waving a hand in surrender. "I'm sorry, Lovino! I was just teasing."
Lovino rolled his eyes and went back to his omelet, finishing it in record time while he allowed his flush to calm down. He was sitting back in his chair waiting for Antonio to finish when he heard his phone go off in his pocket. The other man tilted his head in question as the Italian pulled his phone out and saw that the caller ID showed that it was Feliciano. He sighed and tapped the button to answer it.
"Pronto."
"Lovino Romano Vargas, you had better have a damn good reason for disappearing," a deep voice demanded.
Lovino paled. This had been the one confrontation he was hoping to avoid.
"Ciao, Nonno…"
This is as much as I have written right now, but as I said before, it is practically writing itself, so I should have a new chapter or two up soon!
