It wasn't long before they all fell into a routine. Every morning, Lovino woke up early and made breakfast for everyone in the large house, then went around waking up Arthur and Feliciano. They all ate, Feliciano keeping up most of the conversation. Since he'd begun taking medicine, his illness had faded away, but it still lingered in his bones and his flesh had grown weak. Feliciano spent his time in the library with Arthur, reading and painting; sometimes chatting about the different techniques for painting a picture. Arthur would listen with interest, but in the back of his mind, he wondered where Lovino was. The hot-headed Italian always disappeared after breakfast, only returning at lunch and dinner, because of this, Arthur had yet to show him the piano.
"Oi, Lovino!" He caught hold of the Italian's wrist before he could make it out the door.
"What do you want?" Lovino growled and pulled his wrist away. "I have work to do."
"Work? What kind?" He frowned at Lovino. Arthur didn't even know there was work to do.
Lovino gave him a withering stare and said, "I doubt you've noticed, but your home is in need of repairs. They're small now, but they could become bigger, and there's quite a few of them, you ignorant bastard."
"You've...been fixing things?" He knew of the few boards that had loosened over the years and the entire manor could use a new coat of paint, but it surprised him that Lovino even bothered to fix any of it.
"Yeah, I've been fixing things. And don't look so surprised, this is what I'm here for, remember?"
"Thank you. I was aware of the need of repairs, but I didn't know how to find someone to do it for me," Arthur confessed.
The Italian stared at him strangely, then pulled him out into the hall; Feliciano had the bad habit of eavesdropping. "What are you doing here?"
"What do you mean? This is my home."
"Not here. I mean Italy. You're alone, you don't know the language, and you have no clue how to maintain this huge-ass house."
He pressed his lips together and glared at the other man. "I don't really think that is any of your business."
Lovino didn't seem to like that answer at all, it meant Arthur had something to hide. And he didn't like secrets, even if his own were off limits. "You made it my business by taking us in."
Arthur opened his mouth, but closed it. He grabbed Lovino's arm and dragged him down the hall, and to one of the empty rooms.
"What? Why are we in here?"
"You want to know what happened to me, I want to know what happened to you. I suppose a swap of information," he said calmly.
"Hell no! I'm not that curious!" Lovino back towards the door.
He stepped in front of the door. Every time he even tried to bring up the matter of Lovino's education, grandfather, or just his childhood in general, Lovino always found some way to escape his questioning. "I'm tired of all this. What is so bad that you have to hide it from me? Please...just let yourself trust me."
Lovino's eyes flicked around desperately, before finally settling on Arthur. "You really want to know?"
"Yes! Did I not make that bloody obvious?"
The Italian beckoned him closer, glancing around them, even though no one, besides Arthur, was in the room. "Fine, I'll tell you."
Apprehension bubbled in his chest, and he cautiously moved away from the door, towards Lovino. He could stop Lovino from running, if the Italian didn't stab him at least. "Finally."
The Italian leaned closer and pressed his lips to his ear, letting his breath ghost past his ear, and whispered, "Life's a bitch." Before pulling back and slamming his head into his, causing him to stumble back and fall on his butt. Lovino stepped around him quickly and flew out the door.
'Dammit... Well, that didn't go well. I guess I should have known better than to expect an answer,' he though idly and laid back on the floor. He has a very hard head. Although, that's not surprising. He cursed himself softly, now Lovino would be more distrustful than ever. Arthur knew he'd screwed up, it was just a matter of time before he'd pay for it.
...
Lovino sprinted down the hill towards the stable, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew this is how cowards act, running from the questions he didn't want to answer, not even to himself, and hiding with the stupid horses. They were very calming horse, but they probably didn't understand a word he said to them; he liked that best about them.
Finally in the safety of the stable, he took a deep breath. The smell of hay, leather and horses filled his senses and calmed him slightly. He heard a loud whiny greet him and the shuffle of hooves on hay covered ground. "Sorry, I didn't bring any treats today," he growled at the dapple mare, ignoring the loud huff of complaint. "Blame that stupid fucking owner of yours. He's snooping into my shit once again."
Mint and her companion leaned over the gate and snuffled at his pockets, and the mare gave him a withering stare. "Don't make that face, I had reasons to act like that! I don't want to tell him all that crap about Grandpa and... What if he kicks us out because of me? I...really like it here," he admitted quietly, blushing at how true that was. In the few weeks he's been here, it's started to feel more like a home than any place he'd been to, including his own home when Grandpa Roma was still alive. He didn't want to leave, and Feliciano had already settled his roots into their new place.
"Dammit, Mint. Why does this shit have to be so hard?"
"And you call me crazy, why are you talking to my horse?"
He nearly jumped two feet in the air at the sound of Arthur's voice, turning to face the other man. "W-What?"
"Talking to horses. That's not a bit strange at all." Arthur stared at him, a small smile gracing his lips and amusement shinning in the back of his emerald eyes.
"Shut up! At least I'm talking to something, not just air!" He couldn't keep the blood from rising to his cheeks.
Arthur took a deep breath and grew serious, all the mirth gone from his face. "I think we need to have a talk. Or, I'll talk, you listen, oaky?"
Lovino didn't say anything, just stared at him calmly.
"You don't have to tell me, if it bothers you so much, I understand. But if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here." Arthur leaned against the frame of the door, and continued, "You and your brother can stay here as long as you want, I won't throw you out."
"Really...?"
"I give you my word." Arthur's voice rang with truth, and Lovino knew Arthur meant what he said. "I want you to stay, but I won't force you to, nor will I force you to confine in me."
He stared at the man in front of him, then let out a groan. "I hate people like you."
"What do you mean?" Arthur looked started and frowned slightly.
"Kindness. Why are you showing me such kindness? I don't understand! Why are you even letting us stay here?" Lovino threw up his hands in frustration, starting the horse next to him.
"Lovino, no matter what you think, you're a good person that deserves so much better." Arthur stared into conflicted hazel eyes. "As for why I let you stay here, I have lived in that giant house alone for nearly a year, because I am a disgrace to the Kirkland name. I know what it feels like to have no one..." Like you.
He stay silent for a moment, feeling the unsaid words linger in the air, and ashamed at how selfish he's acting. It never occurred to him that Arthur might be facing problems of his own. Although, the fact that he even cared about the other man scared him enough by itself. "How did you end up here?"
Arthur hesitated, then took a deep breath and said, "I fell in love with a man."
"They kicked you out of England over that?" He knew homosexuality is highly frowned upon in most countries, including Italy, especially Italy. It simply didn't matter much to him anymore, and to exile someone out of an entire country over it seemed a bit much.
"My brothers gave me two choices, go to prison and be publicly outed or leave. I think you know what I chose." Arthur watched him carefully for any signs of disgust or hatred in his expression, but he didn't find any. "Are you going to act like I'm some diseased, repulsive animal?"
"Why would I? You can't help who you love, dammit. The matters of the heart care nothing for genders or labels," Lovino surprised him by saying.
"That's very mature and unexpected of you."
Lovino glared at him in annoyance. "What were you expecting? It wouldn't matter to me if you liked to fuck boxes and, although that'd be weird, it wouldn't change who you are. I learned that where a person comes from, his sexual preferences, or facial features matter not to what's inside you."
He stared at Lovino in surprise, making the other blush and fidget. Then, before he had a chance to stop himself, he pulled the Italian into his arms and hugged him.
"What are you doing?" Lovino screeched, not struggling nearly as much as Arthur expected.
"Thank you."
"Whatever, bastard. You're an idiot, but you don't deserved to be looked down on by fuckheads," Lovino grumbled irately, his cheek heating up, he still didn't pull away.
"That'd actually be rather sweet of you to say if you didn't swear so much," he teased gently, unconsciously pressed his cheek against the silken strands of Lovino's hair.
"Fuck you, dammit." Lovino pushed him off, quite red in the face by now. "And don't fucking cuddle me like that, Feliciano likes that shit, not me."
Arthur rolled his eyes and said, "Don't be stubborn, git."
The Italian huffed and turned away, walking deeper into the stable, past all the empty horse stalls. "If that's all you've come for, leave already."
"Why?" Arthur couldn't help the glare of annoyance he shot at Lovino's retreating back. This is his stable, what authority did the Italian have to order him out?
"Because I don't want you distracting me from my work, bastard." Lovino rolled out a wheel barrow from one of the stalls, strolling right past him without a second glance at him.
He kept pace with the dark-haired man. "I could help."
Lovino actually stopped and started laughing, a deep, genuine laugh. "Go keep Feliciano company," the other finally said after he composed himself again.
"Are you saying I can't do it? A little work won't be that hard!" His rebellious side boiled at the sight of Lovino's mocking smirk. That little twat.
"A wall has fallen in your west pasture, it's hard work for someone like you. Hell, it's hard work for even me."
"Like me? I find that very insulting. Just because I've never done it, doesn't mean I can't lift a stone," he growled stubbornly.
"That's not what I fucking meant, stupid." Lovino grabbed his hand and faced it palm up, placing his own next to his for comparison. Callouses covered Lovino's hands and barely visible scars criss-crossed over his palms, but they still held their former elegance of slender, long fingers; an artist's hands trying to become a farmers. His hands seemed smooth and unblemished compared to Lovino tanned, work-worn hands.
"Working really did that?" Surprise made its way into his voice. Arthur knew how manual labor toughened the body and he shouldn't have been that surprised, but he'd never really looked at someone's hands before.
"Yes. Do you get it now, idiot? Now go inside and make sure Feliciano doesn't get lonely," Lovino ordered.
Arthur sighed deeply and finally relented, "Fine, but don't work yourself to death."
"Fuck off, don't act like my fucking wife." Lovino lifted the wheelbarrow again and walked away.
This time, Arthur didn't follow him, he slowly returned to the house. Feliciano met him in the hall, smiling and practically bounce with excitement.
"Arthur! Arthur! A person is here!" Feliciano pulled at him arm, dragging him into the parlor. A familiar blond head stood facing the window, and even though, he couldn't see the man's face, he knew who it was.
"Hello, Francis," he greeted coldly.
"Ah, mon lapin!" Francis turned to him and opened his arms into what would have been a hug if Arthur hadn't quickly moved away.
"Don't touch me! I don't want frog germs."
Francis put a hand to his chest dramatically, as if he was in pain, and cried, "Mon ami, you hurt me so much!"
"Oh, shut it, over-dramatic wanker."
The Frenchman smirked at him, an unadulterated look in his eye. "I never thought you'd ever get a maid, Arthur."
"Maid?" Arthur follow Francis's line of sight and glanced at Feliciano, who wore his green dress proudly. "What? No! No!"
"Non? Then you don't mind if I..." Francis left the sentence hanging as he moved closer to the unsuspecting Feliciano.
"Don't you dare. I know a very vicious older brother who will not hesitate to castrate you," Arthur warned, despite how humorous it would be if Lovino actually did cut off the frog's 'Eiffel Tower', as he called it.
"What are you two talking about?" Feliciano glanced between the two men, his head tilted in confusion. "Veh, Fratello wouldn't hurt anyone."
"So, there's a brother?" Francis lips curled into a perverse grin. If Arthur wanted to take a guess at what the Frenchman was thinking, he'd say fantasies of two innocent little Italian brothers were coloring his imagination with lust. "Tell me more about this brother of yours," Francis practically purred and led the boy to one of the many couches.
Arthur rolled his eyes and sat across from the two. He watched silently as Feliciano explained his brother's rude personality (Not that prickly personalities phased Francis much) and laughed every time the older man put his arm around his waist.
As the others chatted, his thoughts began to wander. He thought about how these few weeks with the brothers had passed. Under his diligent care, Feliciano had almost completely over come his illness, and with Lovino's wonderful cooking, the two brothers had gained much weight. Their cheeks had begun to fill out and they no longer looked as bony, which made him glad; he didn't like the way Lovino's bones had stood out, even through his clothing.
He wondered how the wall Lovino was repairing faired. Lifting stones were by far more interesting than the two in front of him. They'd moved on to the topic of dresses and why men couldn't wear them. It really didn't matter that he was bored, Lovino would kill him if he left Feliciano alone with a known player. Of course, he almost preferred death to being in a room with Francis.
"Hey, bastard, what are you doing?" Lovino's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see a dusty, sweaty Lovino in the doorway. The Italian wore a white shirt today and it clung to his skin, soaked with sweat. Arthur glanced towards Francis and saw he had that look in his eye.
"Who the hell is this?" Lovino growled when he finally noticed Francis.
"Ah, bonjour," Francis purred, smiling pleasantly at the other man. "You must be Lovino, your brother has been telling me about you. I'm Francis Bonnefoy."
Lovino scowled, his brows furrowing together. He didn't know what to say, he already didn't like this man. "What do you want?"
"I just came to see my dear friend, Arthur."
"I'm not your friend, frog," he snapped irritably.
"Veh, is something wrong, Arthur?"
"My dear friend is probably just grumpy," Francis answered before he could. "You know how the English get without their tea and dreary weather."
"Veh?"
"That's it!" Arthur shot up from his seat and threw a punch at the Frenchman. Francis, who had of course been expecting this, avoided his fist and pushed off the couch, tackling him. The fire raging in his blood urged him to fall back on his old under-hand method of fighting, but a strong grip latched on to the back of his shirt and hauled him off the damn frog.
"What the hell is wrong with the both of you?" Lovino yelled at them.
"My apologies, mon cher. This is how we always greet each other."
"Let go of me! I'm going to blacken his eye!" He fought against Lovino's grip, ready to bust the Frenchman's face.
"No! If you're going to fight, take it outside!" The Italian sent a kick into his rear, nearly sending him stumbling into Francis.
"Ohonhon, you're letting little boys order you around these days, Arthur?" The frog had the nerve to smirk mockingly at him and wiggled his well-trimmed eyebrows suggestively at him. But before he could throw another punch, Lovino grabbed Francis by his shirt and shoved his face into his.
"Who are you calling a little boy, beardy?"
From the look on Francis's face, he wasn't expecting the Italian to act aggressively to him; he probably had forgotten of Lovino's presence when he made the jab at Arthur. "...Did you know you have beautiful eyes, mon cher?"
Lovino's face turned three different shades of red, his tanned skin doing nothing to hide the embarrassing flush. "Chigi!" He exclaimed and slamed his forehead into Francis's, letting go of the Frenchman as he crumpled into a groaning mess.
"Fratello, that wasn't very nice," Feliciano finally spoke up, scolding him lightly.
"You seem to headbutt when people are too close to you, very strange," Arthur commented.
"Shut up, both of you! And it's not like I can actually hurt him; he's your friend, isn't he?" Lovino glared at him.
"He's not my friend," he growled and nudged the frog with his foot. "Get up, you git."
"Mon lapin, you're too cruel," Francis cried, "I've been fatally injured by your servant!"
"What did you just call me?" Lovino growled threateningly.
"Francis, although I could care less, for your own well-being, shut up. Just get up and go to your room before you get your beard ripped off," he ordered. Lovino looked absolutely livid and ready to murder the Frenchman. He figured he'd at least save him this once from the explosive anger of Lovino.
Thankfully, Francis caught sight of Lovino's angered expression, and said, "I think I will retire to my room for now. The trip here was quite tiring, please call me when dinner is ready." And with surprising speed, removed himself from the room.
"He's nice," Feliciano commented happily.
"I don't like that fucking bastard."
"That makes two of us."
"Veh, then why is he your friend?"
"He's not! I've known that idiot a long time, we neither hate nor like each other."
"You're both idiots as far as I'm concerned," Lovino grumbled and stalked away, grabbing Feliciano's hand and pulling him along.
Arthur sighed heavily and retreated to his library. He could only hope that Francis could keep it in his pants long enough to leave without causing too much damage.
...
Lovino had just begun to cut up the herbs from Arthur's garden when he heard someone approach him from behind. He knew Arthur was most likely hiding in the library and Feliciano went to keep him company, that left only their 'guest'. His hand gripped the knife a bit tighter than necessary, and he turned around.
"Good evening. I would like to apologize for my behavior earlier," the blond said. "Arthur and I have never been able to act civil around each other. You wouldn't believe how many formal parties we've ruin together."
Inside him, warning bells went off, but he ignore them. Maybe it was time he began to trust people more and this man seemed like a somewhat good place to start. "I suppose it's alright," he said gruffly.
"So, mon cher, won't you tell me a little about yourself? How did a beauty like you end up with that grumpy old man?"
"I'm working for him in payment for help my brother, and he offered to let us stay here. Although, I'll probably go out and earn money once the debt is paid, I won't allow us to live off Arthur forever." He hesitated, choosing to ignore Francis's comment on beauty, and added, "We were living in very poor conditions, you could say, and he helped us."
"Are we speaking of the same Arthur?" Francis asked him in disbelief. "The Arthur I knew would never help anyone if they couldn't pay him with money. You must have shown him something really special for him to go this far for you."
"W-What?" Lovino turned back to the vegetables, unaware of Francis slowly inching closer to him. "Shut up, bastard. And don't say such weird things."
"Oh, but it's true. You and your brother very beautiful," Francis purred in his ear, placing his arms on either side of him and pressed against his backside.
"Get away from him!" Arthur stormed in and shoved Francis away from him.
It all happened so fast, Lovino didn't even realize he'd nearly been molested, and now Arthur and Francis were standing in the kitchen having a stare off. He's so done with this nonsense, if Arthur wants dinner, he'll have to make it himself; and with that, he walked out of the kitchen. They could fight as much as they want.
"What the hell was that, Francis?" Arthur could barely contain his anger. The sight of Francis's arms around Lovino made his fist clench, his muscles tense and yearning to come into contact with the Frenchman's handsome face.
"Oh, is he yours?" Francis smiled coyly. "Won't you let me borrow him for the night, or maybe that sweet little brother of his?"
"No! They are not whores, you pig," he nearly yelled, fighting to keep control of his temper. "I'm not keeping them here for fucking and you are not to touch them."
Francis blinked in surprise. "You haven't been using them at all? They're not prostitutes?"
"No! They could be virgins for all I know!"
"Oh, mon dieu! If I had known, I would never have— Did you kidnap them to cure your loneliness?" The Frenchman exclaimed loudly. "The poor angels!"
"So, their angels now? Five seconds ago, you thought they were fucking tarts!" Arthur raised his hand to strike the frog, but lowered in and took a deep breath. "Listen, you bloody twat, they're living with me because they have nowhere else to go."
"You've grown soft, Arthur," Francis sang, "I saw that look in your eye when you pulled me away from Lovino."
He felt his cheeks grow warm. "What are you going on about, frog?" Of course, he knew what he was talking about. This feeling wasn't unfamiliar to him, unfortunately.
"I only warn you, a boy like that will bring you much joy and sadness."
"You're an idiot."
"I'm quite serious, Arthur." Francis stared at him, his ocean-blue eyes unwavering. "Lovino is nothing like Alfred."
"You think I don't know that," Arthur hissed. "No one will ever be like Alfred, but..."
Francis set a hand on his shoulder and smiled teasingly. "Don't worry, big brother will help."
He couldn't help but groan, shrugging off the offending hand. "Please don't. Remember what happened the last time you tried to set me up, frog?"
"That doesn't count." The Frenchman waved his hand carelessly. "Gilbert only had eyes for that stiff Austrian at the time. Although, the Austrian got married and Gilbert is looking—"
"Forget it."
The older man laughed lightly. "I only tease you, mon ami. I can tell you're only looking at that feisty Italian for l'amour."
"My god! Just stop!" By now, his entire face burned with embarrassment. Knowing Francis would most definitely not stop now that he found a new stick to poke him with, he fled the room.
Translations:
Mon ami (French)= My friend
Mon lapin (French)= My bunny
Mon cher (French)= My dear
L'amour (French)= Love
Whew, long chapter. I didn't mean to make France abit of a bad guy. School has been very busy. I go to a college-highschool and there is more work there than at a normal highschool. Germany will be coming soon, just wait. I apologize if it seems slow now, but there are things I need to get done in the story first. Thank you for reading and reviewing.
-Windy