Pairing: Eventual Spain/Romano
Rated: T
Chapter 7
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Romano had said that Antonio would have to work hard to earn his trust, and he had meant every word.
Things started out simple enough. The day after Antonio's apologies and displays of trust, Romano had been in a fairly good mood. He had enjoyed a good night's sleep in his warm, soft new (not to mention huge) bed. Although he had woken up in the middle of the night like many a time before, he hadn't been forced to wander the halls in vain last night. All he had to do... was walk across the room to his very own bathroom! Romano had never imagined anything relating to chamber pots would make him so happy.
So he had woken up feeling refreshed and satisfied, even if his neck was still tender. He had inspected the bruise in his new mirror above the sink, but it wasn't any better than the day before. If anything, it actually appeared to be worse. Romano could only shrug at his reflection; his collar would hide some of it, but it didn't really matter. He'd been through worse.
He had gone downstairs to start on the breakfast, only to find Antonio was already cooking. "Buonasera, Roma!" he greeted, looking cheerier than ever.
Romano had given the man a bewildered look. He replied with a curt "It's morning, bastard", before remembering that his boss went to sleep around noon, and so to him, it probably was evening.
"Yes, I know," Antonio responded, still smiling and stirring a pan over the fire. Romano continued to stare at him oddly until he noticed. The Spaniard stopped stirring. "What, did I not say it right?"
The boy peered around Antonio to see what was cooking. Paella. Romano's stomach grumbled loudly, and he decided to take pity on his boss. Emma had claimed the man knew little Italian, and maybe if Romano was extra nice, Antonio would give him some paella...
"No, but you were close. You said Good evening. If you want to say Good morning, you say Buongiorno," he corrected.
"Ah! All right then, Buongiorno, Roma," the Spaniard said with a wink. "How would you like to join me for breakfast? I know you like paella."
Romano huffed and made a show of sitting down at the table, but his stomach was doing flips in excitement. "Why are you speaking Italian, bastard?" he asked as Antonio served the food. "Emma told me you don't know any." If he had to learn Spanish when all along, his boss spoke Italian...
"I don't, not really," the Spaniard explained, joining the boy at the table. "But I know you're Italian, so I thought maybe you could teach me some." Antonio smiled warmly.
Romano blushed and squirmed in his chair. "It... might be too difficult for a tomato bastard like you," he stammered, annoyed that his insult only made the man smile more. "I suppose I can teach you a few words, though." He pointed at the rice in the paella. "Riso."
Antonio scooped a mound of rice onto his spoon. "Riso," he repeated, glancing at the boy for confirmation. Romano nodded, and they both ate in silence for a few minutes.
"Coniglio," he continued, once his stomach was no longer roaring in hunger. He nudged a large piece of rabbit meat with his utensil. "Coniglio... rabbit."
They continued the lesson through the rest of breakfast. Verdure. Vegetables. Cucchiaio. Spoon. Piastra. Plate. Pomodoro. Tomato. "Or for yours, bastard, you'd say pomodori speciali," Romano instructed, watching his boss take a bite of one of the miniature fruits.
Antonio quickly wiped his mouth when a bit of thick tomato juice started to run down his lip. "Pomodori speciali... Special tomatoes?" He stared at the half-eaten fruit and chuckled darkly. "Special, you think? I suppose..."
And so a new routine began, of Antonio cooking breakfast in exchange for a few Italian lessons each morning. Romano always made a fuss about it, complaining about the food or telling Antonio he was probably too stupid to learn Italian, but he was pretty sure Antonio could see through it all. Well, at least the part about not liking the food. Romano's facial expressions would give him away every time when it came to eating; it was just too hard to hide.
Romano hadn't meant to get carried away; really, he hadn't planned it. But Antonio just kept offering to do things for him...
It started with the cooking. Then, Antonio offered to help him clean one day. Romano had been struggling with the dusting in one of the many parlors, having already knocked over another bookshelf. Antonio had been walking by and heard the commotion, rushing in to see if Romano was hurt.
"Get off me, bastard," he groaned, pushing away the man's caring hands. "It's not a big deal; this sort of thing happens all of the time," he admitted reluctantly.
The Spaniard replaced the bookshelf and stared at the boy thoughtfully. "Well, maybe if you wouldn't make such wild gestures, you wouldn't knock things over," he mused. "I know growing boys have awkward limbs... but maybe try to control yourself better?"
"I can't," Romano replied sulkily.
Antonio smiled. "Of course you can! Maybe with a bit of practice–"
"It's not like that!" Romano shouted, cutting the man off. "You think I knock stuff over on purpose? I can't help it!" He turned to wipe the tears out of his eyes before they could fall. "I can't help it..."
After a long silence, his boss spoke again. "You really aren't good at cleaning, are you?" he asked, scratching his nose.
Romano puffed his cheeks and swore. "If you're just going to complain, then go away!"
His boss was not so easily deterred, however. Antonio helped him clean up the books, and after that, the man volunteered to stay and help Romano with the rest of the chores, until he got tired. Antonio was very interested in figuring out why his henchman was so terrible at housework ("What do you mean 'why', bastard? I'm just not any good! Leave me alone!"), and so he announced that he would help out with Romano's morning chores every day, so that he could study and determine where all of the bad luck was coming from. Antonio didn't understand how someone who had been doing chores for most of their life could be so clumsy at them; after all, practice made perfect, right?
"Obviously practice hasn't helped me," Romano muttered as Antonio swept up the remains of a glass vase, after another one of the boy's accidents. He hung his head. "Let's face it; I'm no good."
"No, Roma," the Spaniard argued, kneeling and gripping the boy's shoulders. Such touches barely made him flinch these days, but arms length was about as close as Romano would let the man get to him.
Antonio's green eyes poured into him. "I'm not giving up on you."
He often said things like this, and Romano never knew how to handle the situation. Usually he would end up flustered, swatting Antonio off before the man could see the blush on his cheeks. He just wants you to get better at cleaning so he doesn't have to help anymore, that's all. Romano had told himself this many times; why else would Antonio bother? But as the weeks flew by, he began to wonder if that was really the truth.
Romano sometimes wondered if he was being selfish by taking up all of Antonio's free time. The man was doing practically everything for him these days... cooking, dusting, mopping. Antonio was eager to please the boy, intent on keeping his promise to win Romano's trust. Romano often felt Emma's disapproval of his boss's new enslavement, as it were, but every time he caught her eye, she would only purse her lips and walk elsewhere. She might not like how he bossed Antonio around, but he knew she was thinking of the slowly fading bruise hidden beneath his shirt.
Of course, Romano could only boss around the Spaniard in the mornings. Around lunchtime, Antonio would always get tired and retire to his bedroom to sleep. Romano never saw the man after that, not until the next morning. At first, he thought his boss was trying to sleep all afternoon and night, or perhaps his health was so bad that he had to stay in bed often. But after spending many nights on the third floor down the hall from the man, Romano learned that was not the case.
He would often hear weird noises at night coming from the other rooms. Sometimes loud explosions, other times yelling. Romano was always too scared to go check on his boss; he was admittedly afraid to confront Antonio at night after the attack, and in any event, his boss had specifically instructed him not to investigate odd noises. But what caused such sounds? Perhaps the man was an inventor of sorts? He always forgot to simply ask Antonio what exactly he did for a living. All he currently knew was that it involved dealing with English-speakers and traveling a lot. Antonio had even recently mentioned that he would be going back to Japan this summer to get an ingredient for his tomato fertilizer, and that he would be making a few business stops in different countries along the way.
The strange clamors never woke Romano or stopped him from sleeping, but he would hear them if he got up to use the toilet. He would always wait a minute or two before going back to sleep, until the noise stopped, just in case Antonio started screaming in endless pain and he felt he needed to go fetch Emma. But in the end, Romano went back to bed after hearing nothing, drifting off as soon as he had closed his eyes.
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The new year came suddenly, and as the months passed, Romano realized he had been living in Spain for almost a year now. It seemed only yesterday that he was still living on the farm, sweating outside in the heat as he chopped wood while his brother stayed inside, tending to their ill parents. He wondered about Feliciano and how his brother was doing in Austria, working for that aristocrat. Was Feliciano as well taken care of there, as Romano was here?
He shrugged to himself as he helped Emma fold laundry. He didn't want to think about his brother. Who cared what that do-gooder was up to anyway? Romano knew that it wasn't his brother's fault that their parents had favorited Feliciano while neglecting him, but Feliciano had never really tried to befriend him after returning from Venice. Romano had been hurt at first, even though he also was ignoring his brother. So he told himself that he didn't care about Feliciano. Although he was somewhat thankful the younger boy had wordlessly agreed to take care of their parents, Romano also hated that carefree attitude Feliciano possessed. It was the same sort of positive, hopeful cheeriness he had once thought Antonio had; after seeing the man's bizarre side though, he had changed his mind. Antonio wasn't likely to let people truly take advantage of him (Romano's bossiness aside), whereas Feliciano was the type of person who wouldn't realize his kindness was being abused. So while he wondered if Feliciano was being ordered around over in Austria, Romano reminded himself that he hated his brother's sweetness and if he was being taken advantage of, it was Feliciano's own fault.
Once the laundry was done, he and Emma moved on to dinner. Antonio had already gone to bed hours ago, so it was just the two of them in the kitchen.
"How about some stew for supper?" Emma suggested, already preparing a large pot.
Romano readily agreed. A thick, warm stew would be perfect for a cold night like this one. Emma had told him that they were almost out of the coldest weather, but February could have a freeze or two. "No potatoes... please," he added, watching her chop the vegetables.
"Of course, silly boy," she laughed. "Though I don't see why you dislike them so much. Ze zijn erg lekker."
He stuck his tongue out, making her laugh again. Potatoes and wurst were the most horrid of foods in Romano's opinion. Italian sausage was fine, but that German... thing Emma had served once was nightmare-inducing! Even French food was slightly better, but not by much.
"They taste bad," he replied, setting the table with plates and utensils.
"Ah, but a warm potato and beef stew would be good tonight," she countered, cutting tomatoes. "We're getting a frost, Romano. I can feel it in these old bones."
His eyes widened. "Tonight? Do you really think so?"
The woman nodded. "I've never been wrong before."
As the hours passed, they cooked and ate their stew and then tidied up the kitchen afterward. The temperature continued to drop as Emma had predicted. Romano had to go upstairs and put on a second pair of socks because his feet were so cold. Emma turned in early, claiming the cold air wasn't good for her joints, but Romano continued cleaning downstairs until the kitchen looked spotless, though he knocked over several pots and pans in the process.
He made sure all foods were safely stored away, especially the tomatoes. He wasn't sure where Antonio's special tomatoes were, though he suspected they might be kept in Antonio's bedroom to lessen the chances of other people (namely himself, he suspected) accidentally eating them.
Oh damn, the vegetable garden! If the weather was bad enough, the garden would freeze!
Romano quickly ran to the storeroom behind the kitchen. There, he grabbed a pair of scissors and the large roll of canvas Emma had bought a while back. Romano thanked the heavens that she had bought a waterproof, thick type. Hopefully it would be thick enough to protect the plants. He had done this back on the farm enough times to know that if he moved speedily, the garden would be safe.
He set to work immediately, first going around to the side of the castle by the large stable. The two horses were asleep, but Romano wasn't too concerned about waking them inadvertently. He didn't bother to be quiet as he gathered as many bricks as he could carry. Antonio kept a stack of loose bricks out here, for what reason, Romano did not know, but he was certainly glad of them now. He had to make several trips, as the bricks were quite heavy in his arms and the walk was a long one back to the vegetable garden.
Once he had a tiny pile of bricks, he began to cover each row of plants with a sheet of canvas. He started by placing the loose end of the fabric at the head of a row and weighing it down with a brick. Then he would unroll the canvas until he reached the end of the row, and he would cut the sheet off, weighing that side down with a brick as well. He repeated this for all of the rows, until all of the vegetation was covered.
Running up and down the garden had been tiring, but it was worth it. He had finished in under an hour, and he was actually proud of himself for once. He stood there admiring his work and watching his hot breath materialize in the chilly air. No sense in staying out in this weather; it was even starting to mist. He gazed out into the distance, wondering if it would snow.
Antonio's tomato fields were bathed in light as the moon peeked out from behind a cloud.
Romano looked down at the roll of canvas sitting on the ground. There wasn't nearly enough to cover all of the fields, but... Maybe Antonio would want to cover some of them? He debated for a long time, standing by the garden with his arms full of bricks. His boss had said never to bother him when he was on the third floor... But the tomatoes... Antonio had said something about tomatoes freezing easily, and the special tomatoes took so long to grow... What if they all froze overnight and were damaged? What if Antonio had no more tomatoes? Would his boss die?
His throat felt dry and his head was spinning. He had to do something.
Dropping the pile of bricks next to the canvas, Romano ran back inside. He hastened up the stairs until he reached the top floor. Panting, Romano steadied himself on his knees, glancing up and down the long corridor. Unlike the second floor, there was just one hallway with many rooms on either side. Romano didn't know which room Antonio might be working in, but he did know that his boss's bedroom was at the end of the hall. Which he wasn't allowed to walk down.
"Antonio?" he called out hesitantly. "It's me, Romano... I... I know I'm not supposed to bother you, but I was thinking... do you want to cover the tomatoes with some canvas? We have some extra. I know how valuable your tomatoes are and..."
He listened, straining his ears to hear behind closed doors, but Romano heard no answer. "Bastard! Answer me!" he yelled. But again, there came no response. "I... I'm going back outside!" he announced, waiting another few minutes to see if the Spaniard would reveal himself. However, Antonio never appeared.
Swearing, Romano dashed back down the two flights of stairs, nearly tripping as he ran. At the last minute, he ran back up to his bedroom and grabbed the leather gloves, shouting for Antonio one last time but not waiting around for an answer. He came back outside, only to find it was now raining lightly. It also felt even colder.
"Damn it," he mumbled, teeth chattering. "What am I supposed to do?"
He had two options. He could either obey his boss and go back inside, and tomorrow they'd probably find all of the tomatoes ruined. Or, he could break the rule and enter the tomato fields, covering some of them and saving them from the harsh weather. Romano found himself staring into nothing after a few minutes. He slapped his cheek; this was no time for aimless thinking!
It was with shaking, wet hands that he picked up the bricks, canvas, and scissors and hurried across the grounds to the wooden fence. He had to stand on his tiptoes to reach the latch, but he finally unlocked the gate. He slid his chilled hands into the leather gloves, and although they didn't offer much warmth, at least they were dry.
Oh, why hadn't he thought to grab his coat, too?! They'd given him a brand new coat for Christmas, and here he went and forgot about it when he needed it most.
Romano entered the tomato fields determinedly, only to catch sight of them and drop all of his equipment. He had also forgotten that Antonio's tomato plants were anywhere from 120 to 150 centimeters tall! A few of the plants were even taller than Romano himself! How was he supposed to cover these?
He looked at the canvas and thought that maybe he had enough to cover one or two rows. Instead of laying it the length of a row, Romano would have to cut sheets and drape them over the top of the plants. He'd need a lot more bricks...
The rain picked up, and Romano decided to do what he could with what he had.
His clothes were rapidly becoming soaked, and his shoes were already drenched. It took him much longer to cover these plants; he weighed down one end of a sheet, draped it over one (two if he was lucky) plant, and then had to wedge through to the other side and weigh down the other end. Because he didn't want to waste time running down to the end of the row and go around each time, this meant that Romano had to brush directly through the tomatoes to get to the other side. While his hands were protected from the thorns, his arms and legs were not. He was so determined in his task, however, that he forgot about the thorns until one cut him across the cheek.
He looked down to find that he had other gashes in his clothes as well. They stung, but the cold wind stung harder, so Romano tried to ignore the pain and focus on his mission. "What the hell am I doing?" he mumbled, lips numb.
"That is what I would like to know."
Romano yelped and dropped the brick he'd been holding, narrowly missing his foot. His head darted up, eyes squinting in the cold rain.
Antonio was staring down at him with an unreadable expression on his face. It didn't look like a happy one, though, and his hands sat on his hips in an impatient and bothered manner.
"You know you're not allowed in here," the Spaniard said, his voice barely audible above the pouring rain. It was the same... his voice was the same as it had sounded the night he attacked Romano.
The boy stammered with numb lips, trying to find the right words. "I-I'm... I'm sorry!" he apologized, shivering from both the cold and his own fear. "I... called your name... tried to... get you," he chattered, his teeth the only part of him moving since the rest of him was frozen in fright. "Emma said... a freeze tonight... so I thought I would... The tomatoes!" His voice was scarcely a whisper, and Romano's heart was beating so fast that he felt it would burst from his chest.
What would happen? Was Antonio going to attack him again? The man was staring at him with those eyes, so cold and uncaring. How could Antonio go from such a cheery idiot to this... this entirely different person!
Antonio's eyes flickered over the covered plants, the bricks, the canvas on the ground, and then back to Romano, whose body had finally recovered from the shock and had started to shiver uncontrollably. It felt like forever before the man spoke again.
"Start cutting the canvas," the Spaniard ordered.
Startled by the unexpected response, Romano fumbled around for the scissors and began cutting sheets. Perhaps Antonio would punish him later; for now, the man seemed to agree that covering the plants was a good idea.
The two worked in silence, Romano cutting the canvas and Antonio covering the plants. The rain didn't seem to bother the man; he was much faster at the job than Romano had been. Where the Spaniard had found extra bricks, Romano didn't know. Had he gone back to the stable when Romano wasn't looking? Or maybe they had been here all along? No, that couldn't be right, surely he would have seen them...
"Romano!"
He glanced up to see Antonio standing over him, his brown bangs plastered to his face with raindrops. "Romano, we need to work quickly," he insisted, glaring at the boy. "You've been staring at the fabric, doing nothing for the past two minutes! Stop daydreaming."
Romano opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn't tell if any words came out. His brain felt oddly fuzzy. Antonio was yelling again, but he didn't particularly care. Romano decided not to care about anything then, as his legs gave out. He was dimly aware that Antonio was way too close, but all he managed to say was a half-hearted, slurred "bass-surd", before he slipped into darkness and became aware of absolutely nothing at all.
The canvas fell from Antonio's hands when Romano dropped into the muddy soil. He had the boy in his arms in an instant. "Romano! Romano!" he yelled, tapping the boy's cheek. He bit his glove between his teeth and pulled it off, feeling Romano's face with his bare hand. It was ice cold.
"What were you thinking?" he asked, cradling the boy to his chest. "What the devil made you come out here, you fool." He picked up Romano and took off, running through the tomatoes and back to the mansion. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he said, though he wasn't sure if he was talking about Romano this time, or himself.
He all but flew across the grass, flinging open the door and pounding up the stairs. "Emma!" he screamed as he passed the second floor. "Emma, I need you! Now!" Antonio bypassed Romano's bedroom and headed straight for his own. He practically kicked the door in out of anger.
Emma appeared barely a minute later, looking disheveled and sleepy. Upon seeing Romano, however, she perked up in alarm, and Antonio passed the boy into her arms. He ignored her questions of what happened and strode over to the fireplace, calling up a large fire. He then pushed his large bed as close to the fire as he could get it, placing the grate in between.
He took Romano back out of Emma's hold. "I need you to go get clean, warm clothes of his," Antonio ordered swiftly. "If he doesn't have any warm ones, bring several pairs. And blankets! Bring as many as you can," he called after her as she fled the room. Antonio took Romano into the adjoining bathroom, laying him gently on the stone floor.
Damn, there was only one fresh towel in here? It would have to do. "I won't let you die," he whispered as he pulled off Romano's wet things. "You can't die on me now, you hear?" The boy looked so lifeless that Antonio had to check twice to make sure he was still breathing. His pulse was there, but it was slow. As he removed the boy's shirt, Antonio frowned at all of the scratches made by the tomato thorns. He ran his thumb over the cut on Romano's cheek. "Stupid boy," he mumbled. Discarding the last of Romano's clothes, Antonio wrapped him in the dry towel and brought him back into the bedroom. He yanked back the blanket and sheets, laying Romano gently on the bed, close to the fire.
Emma returned shortly with clothes, blankets, and bandages. Apparently she had noticed Romano's wounds, too. She gently untied the towel and began to wrap the worst of the gashes.
"After you finish that, get some of the hot water containers and bed warmers and put them in the bed with him," Antonio ordered.
"Where are you going?" she asked, watching him head out into the hallway. "Antonio, what happened? You didn't attack him again, did you?" He shook his head but didn't elaborate, storming out of the room without a second glance.
"I have a job to finish."
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Ze zijn erg lekker - They are very delicious
120-150 cm = about 4-5 ft
I know I said things were looking up for Romano... and then this happens. But everything happens for a reason! Every scene is written with a purpose, and I do promise that things are improving for our little tomato~
Next chapter will reveal a bit more of Antonio's background, and there will also be some cute BossSpain/ChibiRomano moments. There was supposed to be more fluff in this chapter, but it grew too long.
I enjoyed reading all of your reviews on the last chapter! I always try to answer them without giving away too much of the story, but if you aren't signed in, I can't respond to you personally without an email. However, many of you have been asking... and yes, North Italy will make an appearance later in the story :D
