Pairing: Eventual Spain/Romano. No pedo!Spain.
Rating: T
Chapter 4
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Romano didn't know what to say. There was no possible way of explaining himself without getting punished on the spot, he was sure of it. He had been hired to clean, and what had happened? He had ruined books that were probably very old and very valuable, possibly the only copies of their kind. Whatever sort of books rich people kept. And he had all but poured a bucket of soapy water over them.
He sniffled and his eyes watered. What would happen? No dinner for a week? A thousand chores to complete by tomorrow? Would they send him back to the orphanage? Romano hiccuped, wanting to wipe the tears from his eyes, but his hands were still holding the bookcase. He looked over to the doorway, keeping his eyes on the worn leather boots so he wouldn't have to see the man's angry face, and he tried not to look as scared as he felt.
"Oh my, are you all right?" the dark-haired man asked, striding into the library and setting both his bag and the tomato down onto a desk. "Here, let me help you!" The Spaniard took the weight of the bookcase from Romano's hands, shifting it back into an upright position against the wall. "Are you okay? Are you injured?" he asked the boy, crouching down, checking him over, and pulling a fallen book off Romano's head. "Did it hit you on the head?"
He certainly didn't seem angry. Romano stared at him. This... this couldn't possibly be his new boss, could it? Romano had always pictured Señor Carriedo as a fat, balding old stiff in his late forties or fifties. He had never pictured this young, handsome man, who couldn't be older than Francis. Did Señor Carriedo have a son, perhaps?
He was snapped out of his staring when the man began running his hands through Romano's hair, presumably checking for bumps and bruises. A hand came dangerously close to a particularly sensitive curl, and Romano swatted him away.
"Get off me, bastard!" he said, the swear slipping out without a second thought.
The Spaniard withdrew his hands, eyebrows raised at the insult. "Haha... what? You really must have hit your head there!"
Romano stuttered. He hadn't meant to swear, but he wasn't being scolded, in fact... This man had just laughed at him! Romano was giving him his best glare, and all this man could do was laugh at him? Romano puffed his cheeks and pursed his lips, his face growing red with embarrassment and anger. This only seemed to encourage the man.
"Oh my goodness," he chuckled, "you're such a cute little thing! Your face is turning red... just like a tomato!"
Cute?! No one called Romano cute and got away with it. Who did this jerk think he was, laughing at Romano's misfortune and calling him a tomato, of all things? "Who the hell are you?" he finally squawked, stumbling to his feet and away from the man's far too close and far too cheery face.
The Spaniard stood, too, laughing again. "You can't tell?" he replied, amused. "You may call me Antonio!" He looked expectantly at the Italian, who was twisting his shirt in a nervous manner while trying to ring out some of the water.
"Romano," the boy muttered reluctantly.
Antonio? Would his boss really introduce himself like this? Not yelling over the mess, and letting Romano call him by his first name, of all things? It just didn't seem right. Maybe... this wasn't his boss. Maybe Señor Carriedo did have a family, even if Emma had never mentioned them, and maybe this was his son. Or he could even be a servant, Romano supposed, although his fine clothes said otherwise.
But hadn't Francis called the señor Antoine? It sounded like a French (and awful) way of pronouncing Antonio, which would mean that this was indeed his boss... Unless the Carriedo men all had the same name? Romano himself had inherited his own father's name at birth; however, after a childhood of neglect and mistreatment, Romano had cast that name away three years ago, never to be used again. Romano's father and mother were called so only through blood... he had never really felt that they deserved the titles of Papà and Mamma. And he certainly didn't want to share a first name with one of them. Of course, only Feliciano had complied with his wish to be called by his middle name, Romano; his parents had, as usual, ignored him.
"Hey, don't cry," a soft voice said, as a thumb swiped under his cheek and caught a tear.
Romano gasped and looked up into Antonio's concerned gaze. The Spaniard had somehow entered Romano's personal space again and had now seen him crying! Since he refused to believe that he could be crying over his so-called family, Romano decided that he must still be that upset over the wet books currently scattered across the floor. He blinked back the rest of his tears and held his breath as Antonio's finger moved from his cheek to tuck a stray hair behind Romano's ear.
Once Antonio had pulled his hand back, and only after Romano was confident that he could speak without sounding like a baby, did he scoff and push the man away again.
"I was not crying!" he denied, crossing his arms protectively.
Antonio watched him carefully for a moment, before smiling. "Okay then, Romano. You sure you aren't hurt?" He waited for Romano to nod before he continued. He gestured around. "How about we pick up these wet books and take them outside to dry in the sunlight?"
Romano could only nod again as he followed the man's lead. Why this Antonio was acting so... so... kind was confusing to him. Shouldn't the señor (or his son, if that was the case) just order him around and go about his important business? Rich lords weren't known for helping to clean... that's why servants existed in the first place. So for this man to act so kind... worrying over Romano's possible injuries... hefting a stack of books while shooting Romano a goofy grin... Well, kind people were idiots; they let others walk all over and take advantage of them.
His brother, Feliciano was like that. Romano had been like that, too, once. A very long time ago. And then he'd seen the truth of the harsh world around him, and he had toughened up. People like his brother... with their heads in the clouds, clinging to faith and kindness... He hated them.
If this Antonio was anything like that, Romano would end up hating him, too.
Antonio had grabbed most of the books, and Romano carried the last of them in a small pile. The book on top was written in a foreign language, possibly English, and had a picture of a snake on the cover. Lifting a few pages, Romano saw thousands of words he didn't know printed in a tiny font. All he could tell was that it definitely wasn't a bible.
They ran into Emma in the hallway.
"Oh my goodness! Señor, you're home!" she cried, hurrying forward to take the books from his hands. "I didn't even hear you come in! I'm so sorry! It's so good to see you again, though!" Antonio let her dote on him like a mother who hadn't seen her child in ages. Then she turned to Romano. "And, Romano, why are you all wet?"
"Accident," he mumbled, looking away.
"Romano and I were just going to set the books out on the table by the gardens, so they could dry in the sunlight," Antonio explained. He looked down at the boy, beaming. "His Spanish is so good already! Emma, you've outdone yourself," he praised, smiling at her modest protests. "Well, I'll leave it to you two. I have things I have to do before," he paused to yawn, "going to bed, but Romano, we'll talk later, yes?" He nodded to both of them before turning on his boots and striding back towards the front doors, cloak sweeping behind him.
Romano watched him curiously until Emma called his name from where she was already down the hall. He ran after her, catching up with her at the kitchens. They headed out to the garden area, where several circular tables decorated a corner with mismatched chairs. They spread the books across these surfaces, weighing down the covers with rocks. Romano flipped the pages, loosening them so that the wind could dry them out.
"I see you met the señor," Emma said at last, resting in one of the chairs.
He dropped the book he'd been holding. "So that really is Señor Carriedo?" Romano asked, leaning down to retrieve the fallen item.
It seemed that kind and happy man he'd just met really was Señor Carriedo. Romano wasn't sure how he felt about that. He'd only spoken with the señor (or should he start calling him Antonio now?) for a few minutes, but the man reminded him of Feliciano, making stupid comments and touching him with no regard to personal boundaries. Romano would have to watch himself. He'd already accidentally sworn in front of his new boss, and the man had barely touched him. It would be so much easier if the man was aloof or cruel... Then, at least, if Romano responded aggressively, it would be justified.
"Of course," Emma replied. "Why do you ask such a question?"
He focused his attention on the book, trying not to sound stupid. "Well, he... He told me to call him 'Antonio'... And he's..." Too happy. "...young. I thought he was the señor's son."
Emma raised her eyebrows before her expression became thoughtful. "Señor Carriedo is already in his twenties, so he's not so young... though, perhaps if you were expecting someone my age, I can see why you would think that. As for a son, the señor has no children," she told him.
She made no further comments on Antonio Carriedo's family, and her tone seemed to suggest that Romano refrain from asking any more questions on the subject.
When they had finished arranging the books under the sun, they headed back inside, where Emma told Romano to change out of his nicer clothes and into his work ones. First, they finished cleaning up the library, and then they returned to the kitchens, where Emma set Romano to work chopping vegetables for lunch, while she headed off to the third floor to see if the señor would be dining with them. Emma said that Señor Carriedo always ate his breakfasts and suppers alone in the dining room; however, sometimes he would join her (and now Romano too) for a small lunch. For the time being, Emma would prepare the suppers herself, but Romano would help out with the earlier two meals.
Romano finished chopping one carrot and moved on to the next.
"Señor Carrideo has retired for the day," Emma announced as she reentered the room.
Romano was surprised; it was barely afternoon, and the man had already turned in? "Is he taking a siesta?" he asked, making room for Emma to join him at the counter.
She laughed. "Sort of. The señor... he has difficulty sleeping at night, so he will often sleep during the day. He is also understandably tired from his long journey. He was gone for almost six months this time."
Six months? As they prepared a light stew, Romano wondered what sort of journeys the man took. He knew that the señor often went out of town, but what exactly did he do? Was the man a merchant? Were these business trips? Or perhaps, the Spaniard was just so rich that he could afford a vacation like that. However, that also meant that Emma had been alone a lot of the time... Hadn't she been searching for help for almost a year or so, before he had arrived? And before that, the previous servant boys who'd been hired, none of them stayed long, from what Emma had told him. Emma had been doing all of the housework by herself, almost ever since her brother died, Romano guessed. Though, maybe Señor Carriedo (it felt odd calling his boss by his first name, so he was sticking with the formal title) had helped out a bit? He didn't seem like the type to be a slave-driver.
After lunch, they went back to cleaning for a few hours, before Emma sent Romano off to the classroom to continue his studying. Emma congratulated him on his speaking, reminding him how the señor had been impressed. However, she wanted Romano to become fluent in Spanish, not only in speaking, but reading and writing as well, so the lessons would continue. And because Romano had picked up Spanish so easily, Emma was determined to make him fluent in English as well. "The señor deals with a lot of Englishmen," she reminded him. Romano was currently struggling to translate the story about the little cinder girl from Italian to Spanish.
'Ha dovuto lavorare sodo tutto il giorno, e solo quando fu sera è stata lei permesso di sedere per un po accanto al fuoco, nei pressi delle cenere. È così che ha ottenuto lei soprannome, per tutti la chiamavano Cenerentola.'
"She worked hard all day... in the evening, she... stood by the fire," he muttered, scribbling down the words. "Allowed to stand by the fire... near the ashes..." Once he read the words properly, it was easy enough to say it in Italian, but translating it to Spanish and then writing it down again was an entirely different task.
Hours later after he'd had to light a candle when the sun had sank beneath the horizon, Romano was still scrawling away on his parchment, eyes flickering between the storybook and his handwriting, when the door opened and Emma came into the room with haste.
"Romano, that's enough for tonight," she said, urging him to stand up. "I'll look it over tomorrow. For now, I need you to quickly eat and then go take a bath. Then I want you to put on one of Lux's nicer vests I will lay out for you and your dress shoes."
She startled him by grabbing his elbow and leading him along when he was slow to move. Romano had been surprised at first, but then he had been dreading trying to find his way to the bathroom in the dark, so he had lagged, hoping Emma would just take him there herself. He hadn't expected her to move so quickly though. He thought over the rest of her request.
"You want me to put on my nice shoes again?" he asked, following her.
"Yes. The señor wants to see you in his study," she explained, ushering him into the kitchen. "For a proper meeting," she added, setting a plate down. Romano ate speedily.
A proper meeting. What exactly did that entail? Romano supposed their encounter earlier hadn't been the best: the señor walked in on him after he made a mess. Oh no, was he going to scold Romano for that? Maybe the siesta had cleared his head and now he was realizing how many expensive books Romano had damaged. Or perhaps the señor was sending him back to Italy after all? Romano wouldn't blame the señor if he did, although he would miss Emma.
After supper, the woman scrubbed him down from head to toe in the bathtub, until his hair shined and his skin was raw and pink. She ran a comb through his hair, but no matter how hard Emma tried, that one rebellious curl refused to lay flat. She licked her thumb and tried to press it down, and Romano swallowed nervously. Why was she so concerned with him looking nice? The señor had already seen him that morning in his best clothes, even if they had been covered by a work apron. So why did Emma want him to look so presentable...
What if the señor really did want to send him back, and Emma was trying to make him look as good as possible to make the man change his mind? Romano's head was spinning as Emma dried him off and led him back to the bedrooms. He barely registered as she pulled a clean shirt over his head and helped him into a pair of breeches. He only came to when he noticed the dark green vest he was now wearing, with tiny leaves stitched into the fabric in a black thread. It was beautiful.
After he put on his shoes, Emma gave him one last look over before she nodded resolutely and led the way downstairs. They were headed for the large study room in the east wing. Romano had only cleaned in there once, when he'd almost broken a tiny, golden bull; Emma had suggested she do the cleaning in that room from then on, so he hadn't been there since.
They stopped in front of the door, which was open just enough for Romano to see fire light flickering across the rug.
"I'll be right out here in case you need me to translate something," Emma said, straightening his socks. "But do your best, Romano! I know you'll be fine." She smiled and gave him a push, forcing him into the room. She closed the door behind him.
So much for being right there, he thought. Now if he needed something translated, he would have to make a scene out of it by going over and opening the door to call her in.
"Come closer, boy, don't dawdle," the señor's voice instructed, making Romano jump.
The man was sitting in a cushy armchair by the fire, not looking at Romano but instead staring into the flames. Although the large, ornate fireplace was lit, everything about the room seemed darker. Señor Carriedo stood and turned to him suddenly, and Romano briefly wondered if this was even the same person he'd met earlier. Something about the man was off... His skin, hair, clothes, even his green eyes looked darker to Romano. It was just the shadows cast by the fire, but still... Romano felt anxious.
Señor Carriedo regarded him cautiously, simply staring for a long while. Finally, he spoke again. "Well? Are you going to stand over there all day or what? No need to be so nervous, Romano."
The boy hiccuped and shuffled over to the señor.
"Now, let's have a look at you, shall we?" the Spaniard said, circling him like a hawk. "How old are you, Romano?"
"Eleven, señor."
Señor Carriedo stopped his pacing, eying him. "Eleven, you say? You don't look older than eight, judging by your small height and frame. You worked on your family's farm before coming here, correct?"
Romano felt like a mouse being stalked by a cat. Maybe the man wasn't as carefree and stupid as he had first thought.
"Yes, señor." The man waited for him to elaborate. "It was a small farm, with just chickens and goats."
Señor Carriedo clicked his tongue, resuming his pacing. "Hmm, yes, I can tell you haven't done much hard manual labor. Your accident this morning was not your first, I take it." His suspicions were confirmed by Romano's guilty look. "Not good at dusting or mopping... But Emma says you are good at cooking and gardening, so I suppose it's a start. Tell me, Romano, did you have any prior education?"
As insulted as he felt at being picked apart and judged piece by piece, he had to admit that this was more how he pictured meeting his boss for the first time. He shook his head. "No, señor, I only stayed at home on the farm. We... lived outside the city and it was a long walk into town. We only went to town for holiday mass and an occasional shopping trip."
"Are you religious?" the señor asked, studying him.
Romano tried not to cower. "Not particularly... I thought mass was interesting, but we didn't attend enough for me to understand it," he added, in case his lack of church-going made him a heathen.
Señor Carriedo nodded. "Good, good... And your family? Tell me about them."
"My parents are dead, and my brother is in Austria."
"One more thing," he concluded. "Emma tells me you love tomatoes?"
Romano blushed, but he nodded. Why did the man have to bring that up? He felt horribly judged, though he really shouldn't: Señor Carriedo himself had an entire field of tomatoes.
"Well, I love tomatoes, too, Romano," the señor explained. "In fact, I'm sure by now that you have seen my tomato fields."
Romano nodded. "Why do you have so many?" he asked, forgetting to hold his tongue.
The man smiled wryly. "Tomatoes are good for your health." Abruptly, Señor Carriedo stopped in front of Romano and looked him square in the eye. "Let's go over the rules, shall we? I believe Emma has already explained things to you, but I want to stress them again."
And here came the scolding Romano had expected all along...
"Rule Number One: the third floor is forbidden," the Spaniard declared, watching the boy's face for acknowledgment. "Those are my private quarters, and only Emma is allowed to clean there. I do not trust you enough yet to allow you there, under any circumstances, do you understand?"
Romano nodded quickly. He had already been told this, but hearing Señor Carriedo say it made it sound like there would be major punishment if Romano was caught up there.
"Even if you hear me screaming, do not go up there," the señor instructed. "Get Emma instead."
Romano played with the buttons on his vest. "But what if–"
"I don't care if you think I'm dying," the man cut across, scaring him into silence. "You will not go up to the third floor, do you understand?"
"Yes, señor," he replied quietly. Señor Carriedo's voice had taken a graver tone, and it was starting to scare him. It was so dark in the room that Romano couldn't see the man's green irises, so his eyes just seemed to be almost completely black, making him look all the more threatening.
"Rule Number Two: never let anyone into the house unless Emma or I tell you that it is all right. I am not fond of strangers, Romano, and you would do well to remember that."
Romano nodded again, shivering despite the warmth from the fire.
"Rule Number Three: you will never, I repeat never go into my tomato fields. I know you love gardening and tomatoes, and yes, I know they are delicious, but my tomato garden is off limits. Do you hear?"
Romano shook his head up and down fiercely. "Y-yes!" he squeaked, taking a step back at the man's intense stare.
"Which leads me to Rule Number Four... Never eat any of the tomatoes from my garden. This is the most important rule, and you will seriously regret it if you do not obey me, Romano," Señor Carriedo threatened dangerously.
The boy's amber eyes grew wide. Seriously? He was threatening him over some tomatoes? If Romano wasn't afraid of being sent back to the orphanage, he would probably scoff out loud.
"You may think it silly," the señor said, as if reading his mind, "but those tomatoes take an incredibly long time to grow, and they are very important to my health. You are free to grow your own tomatoes in the smaller garden, but you will not, never ever, under any circumstances whatsoever, eat one of those tomatoes. Trust me, Romano, I will be very cross, and you will be very sorry. Do I make myself clear?"
Romano managed to nod affirmatively, since he found he had lost his voice. Threatening him over some tomatoes... it was something that should be laughable, but the look on the man's face and the harsh sound of his voice... his new boss was terrifying!
Señor Carriedo dismissed him then, telling him they would talk again tomorrow. Romano hurriedly bid him goodnight and bolted from the room, stopping only to bid Emma a goodnight as well.
Emma watched as Romano walked down the hall towards the stairs, his steps a bit more forced and a bit quicker than they normally would be. Sighing and shaking her head, she walked into the study, closing the door.
Antonio looked up at the intrusion, but he went back to his business when he saw that it was only Emma. She approached and found that he was scouring a map of the Russian Empire, particularly Estonia.
"Here to scold me for being too harsh?" he asked, continuing to study the map.
"Of course not," she replied promptly. "Though if I may say so, I am surprised you told him to call you Antonio."
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I would take it back, if only tomorrow morning I wouldn't change my mind again. I don't know why I said it, Emma," he replied, almost moaning.
She smiled sympathetically. "I know how hard it is for you. So... when are you going to tell him?"
Antonio practically fell over, his arm slipping out from under him as he steadied himself on a bookcase. "Tell him? You mean Romano?"
Emma rolled her eyes. "Who else would I be referring to? Yes, Romano! Señor, he's been living here for two months already. And you probably scared him to death just now. He's bound to notice something eventually." She grew quiet, her voice almost a whisper. "Remember what happened with Carlos?"
Antonio looked confused. "Who?"
"The Cuban boy," she reminded him.
The señor hissed. "I thought we agreed never to speak of him again!"
"I know, but hear me out," Emma soothed, helping as he began gathering the maps and folding them away. "You started out on good terms with him, but he grew suspicious over time. When he found out, it... it didn't end well for him."
"I remember," Antonio responded sharply, glancing at his hands. "And that's exactly why I can't tell Romano. We need him, Emma. I'll just be extra careful."
She frowned, putting away the last of the books. "You already told him to call you by your first name. That's not exactly being careful! If he finds out the way Carlos did, Antonio... You really should just tell him. You obviously like him enough, if you can tell me 'we need him'. He has to know eventually."
Antonio sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I know, all right? It's just... he's still so young... And I had really hoped for someone better at cleaning, but he's the best so far and I don't want you to go another year doing the housework by yourself."
Emma watched her boss struggle internally with whatever he was thinking. "Antonio, if you decide you want to get rid of him, you know I won't stop you. I can handle a few chores alone if it's for the best," she said kindly, patting him on the back.
"I know, Emma, thank you," he replied, taking her hand and squeezing it. "For now... just keep Romano out of the way, all right? Send him to bed early, whatever you have to do." She nodded. "Is there anything else we need to discuss before I go back upstairs?"
"Yes, actually, there is," Emma told him worriedly. "I went into town yesterday and spoke to Francis. Oh, don't give me that look, Antonio, he's a nice man, if a bit foolish. But he told me some very concerning news..."
She proceeded to tell him about the rumors Francis had heard lately and of his cousin Alfred's kidnapping. Antonio was silent throughout her story, though his frown deepened and his brows furrowed with every word.
"Doctor Williams seemed to believe me when I told him you had nothing to do with the disappearances, and Francis said that they don't even know if the missing boys are the same ones who worked here," Emma finished explaining. "Well, on second thought, I suppose Carlos would confirm their suspicions, but he wasn't from here, so I don't know if they could track down his family."
Antonio hummed in agreement, still frowning. "This is bad news, indeed," he muttered darkly. "And you're sure this Alfred boy was kidnapped by a man in a green cloak?"
"That's what Doctor Williams said. I do not think he would lie about such a thing. I did not tell Francis or Doctor Williams, but... I am sure you and I are thinking of the same culprit."
She watched as Antonio began pacing about the room. After several minutes, he stopped and looked at her solemnly.
"If that is true... then Alfred is as good as dead."
Emma had suspected this as a possibility, but she had really been hoping for the señor to say otherwise. She clapped a hand over her mouth. "You really think so?"
"You said this doctor is blond, correct? And that, according to him, his brother Alfred looks exactly like him?" She nodded slowly. "Then there is a very high chance that the boy has already left this world," Antonio said seriously. "Though, we have more important matters to concern ourselves with."
He glanced up at a map of España framed against the wall.
"What the hell is he doing back in Spain?" Antonio wondered. He pondered the question for a while, stroking his chin. "This could be problematic for us, should he go on the offensive. Though, with what he's been up to lately, and now this kidnapping, I doubt that is the case. Most likely, he will try to keep hidden. However..."
He turned to Emma, a strange glint in his eye.
"With Arthur Kirkland back in my territory, this makes it much easier for me to hunt the bastard down."
.
Ha dovuto lavorare sodo tutto il giorno, e solo quando fu sera è stata lei permesso di sedere per un po accanto al fuoco, nei pressi delle cenere. È così che ha ottenuto lei soprannome, per tutti la chiamavano Cenerentola - "For she had to work hard all day, and only when it was evening was she allowed to sit for a while by the fire, near the cinders. That is how she got her nickname, for everyone called her Cinderella."
Well, well, Spain finally shows up... bringing the plot with him perhaps? I probably gave you all more questions than answers, didn't I!
How do you like Antonio? I can't wait to write more interaction between him and Romano~ Even though he is 11 yrs old here, in my mind, I picture chibi!Romano when writing this, because, let's face it, that tomato-faced brat is adorable. The segments of Spain the Boss and Chibi Romano are my favorites.
In the 1860s, Estonia was a part of Russia, after Sweden lost the territory in the Great Northern War. Poor Estonia.
Thank you all for your support!
