Pink Playlist.

I've been sitting on this chapter for months because Grandpa and Feli were hard to write for. But it's done!

Big Brothers Don't Cry

A Little Happier Than Not

The thing about falling in love is that it doesn't happen very often; once, maybe twice in a lifetime. Some people are lucky and experience it plenty more than that- or maybe they're unlucky? But for others, there are only so many shots in the pistol before you're out of the game for good.

The other thing about falling in love, however, is that just because you meet that person and something about them sticks to you, it's by no means a red string looping itself around your throat. You can meet that person- stare them straight in the eye in fact, maybe even hold half a conversation… and then walk away.

Just like that, you can walk away.

But Lovino wasn't in love with Flavio by any stretch of the imagination. He certainly liked the bastard, but he remembered being in love with Antonio and they were too different. They didn't 'go out' quite the same way, and everything either had to do with sex or food because there wasn't a whole hell of a lot else for them to talk about.

So, despite Flavio's half-hearted complaints, when Lovino took his vacation that year he did not go with his lover to Paris.

Instead he flew home, to Chicago, where Nonno and Feliciano were waiting to pick him up with strong hugs and a blend of Italian and English that was probably meant to ease his senses back into his mother tongue.

"Didn't Carlino come with you?" Looking around the crowds of people in the glass airport, jet-lag couldn't erase the way it felt like there should have been one more person there to greet him. He knew Nonna was at home waiting for them, but Feliciano just shrugged at the question while Nonno ignored it completely.

It wasn't enough to sour his mood when he was already so tired and then had the weather to deal with trying to get to the car, but it was still a disappointment.

"It's freezing here!" but not as much as the fact that the first all-American breeze to hit him when he stepped outside was at least twenty degrees colder than it had any right to be in Summer.

"You've been living in Naples, nipote, which is about five miles from the mouth of hell." Which meant that while his brother and grandfather immediately turned on the air-conditioning in the car, before they left Lovino was awkwardly ripping open his suitcase looking for a jacket or sweater to pull on over his tee-shirt and summer shorts. It was cold, damn it.

The talk in the car was about the flight: the length, the cost, the stop-overs; if it had been as good or worse than the last one he'd taken… It was all irrelevant information so Lovino turned around in the front seat to ask about Feliciano's schooling instead. Anything he answered about himself in the car would have to be repeated for Nonna at the house anyways, so there was no point.

"It's all here." Feliciano was sitting in the backseat with Lovino taking shot-gun next to Nonno, and he reached out to take the folded piece of paper his brother handed to him.

"What's all here?"

"All the important things."

The paper was a printed copy of a graph Lovino couldn't make sense of at first, not until he looked at the last column and saw a string of letters going down it. A, B, B-, A-, B+, A…

"It's Nonno's job to check your report card, idiot."

Nonno just laughed and put them on the highway headed home.

Nonna was waiting for them and ushered Feliciano inside with Lovino's bag, present and ready to grab the older brother when he stepped over the threshold.

"You're skinny!" And then she shrieked the exact same words he kept hearing on both sides of the Atlantic.

"Nonna-"

"You're skinny and you look so tired, come inside right now there's food on the table." Not before he got a proper hug from her though, because she felt so small when he had to bend down a little to put his chin on her shoulder. She still smelled like her kitchen and the sweet of something that was just Nonna, and Lovino was forced to remember how much he'd missed his family when it suddenly got a lot harder to compose himself and let go.

He'd never noticed how small Nonna's kitchen really was. It had always been a large space with ugly green linoleum and yellow subway tiles on the walls with a backsplash of square floral-patterned bricks. The stove with four old-as-nails coiled burners was clean as usual, the white oven stained brown and yellow from decades of being put to damned good use. He barely even saw the living or dining rooms because watching Nonna in her long white skirt and slippers scuffle over to the tall round body of the old refrigerator grabbed his attention first, especially the way the off-white behemoth rocked on its rubber feet the way it always had and a siren suddenly crashed through his thoughts.

Because no, fuck that, he could afford a new fridge for his grandparents.

He caught Nonno smiling at him and realized Feliciano'd vanished somewhere, feeling his grandfather set a heavy hand on his shoulder and give it a good rub to calm him down.

"Your Nonna and I are just fine." Maybe Lovino'd jumped when the fridge rocked like that, but there was the sound of ice clinking in a large glass pitcher Nonna was emptying into five tall glasses for each of them. "You can focus on your brothers instead, it's okay."

He sucked in air to form an easy "yeah, you're right" reply, only to breathe out a simple "No." instead.

But the crush hazard in the kitchen could wait, because the front door swung open again just as Lovino was being handed a glass of lemonade for the heat, ignoring the chirp behind him that he sit his ass down and relax and answer Nonna's book of questions. He ended up putting the drink back down on the peeling counter and hurrying out into the main room again instead.

"There you are!"

"Hey, Lovino."

Two years had wrought horrific changes on his little brother. For one: why the fuck was he so tall? And another- why the fuck was he so tall? This was supposed to be the kid Lovino could hoist upside down by his legs and hold over gutters and toilet bowls, the half-pint ginger Lovino had repeatedly sat on in scraps and just held like that with his weight. He wasn't allowed to be taller than Lovino!

"Holy shit, what happened to you?" His youngest brother was going through that awful thing called puberty and was being a rotten shit by accepting it and growing up, and that kind of hurt. Carlino still had a round face, softer than his or Feliciano's, but he'd grown a chin and somehow lost control of his arms and legs- he was all limb and leg with almost nothing under his clothes if the bean-pole legs sticking out of his shorts meant anything.

Lovino's first reaction was to try and hug him, but he barely beat it down and thrust a hand out instead for his brother to grab and shake. Feliciano sort of jumped but Carlino's grey-green eyes widened a little before he immediately accepted the handshake, but it made sense in Lovino's head. He'd greeted Feliciano both times with full, fast embraces, but there was no weird wall between him and his middle brother. He could talk to Feliciano, but Carlino had been silent for months.

So he waited for the boy to get uncomfortable with the greeting, which took all of three seconds from touch to shake, and then he jerked his baby brother closer and grabbed him with both arms for a tight bear-hug. Carlino responded immediately by squeezing back and dropping his face on Lovino's shoulder, and the brief glance he caught of Feliciano's surprised face told him the reaction was unexpected, maybe even missed.

If there was a wall between middle and youngest too, then Lovino wasn't going to stand for it any more than he was going to let Carlino keep himself quiet. If he wanted to be a moody asshole then let him, but he was still gonna fucking talk to them even if it was just to tell Lovino to piss off and mind his own business.

"I missed you…" But at least he was willing to say something heartfelt like that, so hopefully it wouldn't be that difficult to get the rest out of him…

"You've got a lot of nerve getting taller than me."

"I didn't mean to…" And it was only about an inch and a half difference, but it was there and it was daunting to get over: he'd been at least a foot shorter when Lovino'd last seen him.

"And now everyone's here: time to eat!"

His first dinner back home was overwhelming, because despite where he worked and all the things he'd tried and learned to make, there was just nothing like a pot of Nonna's bolognaise sauce made by Nonna herself. Lovino nearly dunked his face right into the pile of pasta served up for him just trying to inhale that wall of pure nostalgia.

"You could always just tape a piece of rosemary to your nose and-" Feliciano-!

"Shut your face, there's no rosemary in this."

But it was something he'd missed because making it himself for himself wasn't even close to being the same. There was Nonno telling Feliciano to sit up straight at his seat across from Lovino, and the pepper that crossed the table three times because Nonna insisted she hadn't put enough in the sauce and that meant everyone had to add a little to their plates. Even Lovino did it, and he couldn't even taste the imbalance she was talking about: over-spicing it just made it more like home because it was Nonna's meal at Nonno's table.

There was no option to decline a second portion when it was put in front of him, but he did argue against a third one when Feliciano asked about the ice-cream someone had bought.

"You made pie too?" Swat!

"Of course I made pie! When was the last time you had American cherry pie, hm? Hm?" Which was infinitely better than apple pie, and Lovino would be willing to argue the point if provoked. Especially since after living in America for forty years his grandmother had conquered almost any recipe her grandsons claimed was better anywhere except at her table.

But only one slice of sweet and tart and crumbly and flakey and still-warm and topped with ice… cream…

Sixteen hour… flight… four hour… lay-over in… fucking… London…

"Hey, wake up!"

No… sleep… good… sleep right here… couch good…

Until someone (more like two shitheads!) tilted the fucking couch over and dropped him!

"Cazzo!"

"He swears in Italian now?"

"It's like someone changed his operating system: he was going back and forth in the car too."

"I will punch you both in the throat…"

Feliciano had been home for most of the summer already and had claimed Lovino's old room after he'd moved out. It was actually really easy for the older brother to get his way, because Feliciano seemed to have grown attached to the idea of having his own little spot in the house.

Carlino probably had too, but he had the bigger room and Lovino invited himself in there to sleep on the spare bed, barely cognizant enough to brush his teeth and change his clothes before crawling under the freshly washed and tumbled sheets. But he was still aware enough to sense his youngest brother hovering not far away, and the desk was sporting a new desktop computer that hadn't been there two years ago.

Lovino called him out before it could get awkward.

"As long as you've got headphones I don't care what you do or watch."

"But you're tired-"

"Carlino, my floor-mates in Naples are an artistic couple that can't go half an hour without screaming to the rafters either at each other or reciting poetry: it's fine." They also tended to fuck really loudly, but he didn't want to add that part.

His first night back home was just sleep. He didn't wake up: didn't hear anything, just slept off jet lag and a heavy meal of comfort foods that all by itself made the trip worth it.

But waking up the next morning and finding his little brother absent reminded Lovino of all the reasons why he'd come here to be with family instead of going off for a romantic get-away in Paris.

He didn't bother showering or getting dressed before going downstairs to check and see if Carlino was just having an early breakfast, but it was only nine-thirty in the morning, and summer break to boot. When he didn't discover him downstairs but instead saw his grandfather sitting with a lukewarm cup of coffee and the Sunday paper, Lovino was confused and concerned at the same time.

"Hey, where's Carlino?"

"Good morning to you too! There's coffee." Where was his brother? "Feliciano's still asleep I think, I haven't seen him yet."

"That's not who I meant…"

"I know, now drink some coffee and maybe shave that mess off your face before you go hunting that poor boy down and scaring him half to death." You know what, if it would stop his brother from evading and running away from him then maybe Lovino would do exactly that: scare the shit out of him. "Lovino."

He had to listen when his name was called, because it came with firm eye-contact and his grandfather folding that newspaper over his hands before setting it down in his lap. Lovino was invited to take a seat on the couch next to him, and he took it with one hand rubbing the back of his neck and the uncomfortable way the old springs poked him through the thin cushion.

"It's not drugs." Thank you… "And it's not crime either." No, Lovino was honestly thankful when he heard those two easy facts come out of his grandfather's mouth. Nonno was slowly giving up ground to his age, a lot more grey combed through hair that was a lot thinner than it had any right to be. Lovino was held with that firm stare as his world slowly calmed down, a little bit of the anxiety that had been slowly gnawing through his insides giving up its hold. "He's sixteen, and when you were sixteen, Lovino you were angry and you were this close," Nonno's fingers were still thick and wide, two of them coming tight together to show how close, "to dropping out of school for good." Sour, bitter, unpleasant memories…

"When Feliciano was sixteen," his grandfather continued, "he was moody and always following you around like a little puppy, hardly standing up for himself."

"What? I don't remember that."

"Because at eighteen, Lovino, you were still a bit of a shit-head." Aw, thanks, maybe he'd go and get that coffee now- "Carlino is sixteen, and if he was in any kind of trouble I'd do to him exactly what I did to you: get him a job somewhere and show him how hard it would be to live without finishing school."

"So he's not working."

"No, I give him money every now and then, ten dollars, twenty maybe- usually it's from you anyways."

"Do you know where he spends it?"

"Someplace cheap enough that he never approaches me first."

It settled some of his nerves and gave him new ideas to chew on as Lovino got his coffee, glaring at the fridge when it dared to take one foot off the floor as he tugged it open. No, he was going to have to do something about that: either today or tomorrow because he was the only person in his family with an actual income. A new fridge was about the price of a university course, but Lovino would have time to make up the difference before worrying about anybody's tuition. He'd been able to afford a trip back home, hadn't he?

"Lovino are you eating leftover pasta for breakfast?"

"…No."

Feliciano's teasing was not enough to make him put the container back in the fridge, and he almost stabbed his brother with the fork when Feliciano tried to amicably steal a chunk of tomato from him. The horrified sound their grandmother made when Nonna walked into her kitchen to make breakfast almost made him regret it.

"I'm not speaking to him ever again!"

"Rina…"

"NO! He flies all the way here to eat kitchen scraps, that's fine! He doesn't love his Nonna even a little bit I understand!"

It took up more of his morning than Lovino would have liked just trying to restore harmony. Once everybody was settled with a plate of eggs and toast, Lovino prepped a cup of tea for his grandmother behind her back and she grudgingly rescinded her vow to never look at him.

"Your brother did the same thing when he came home." What could have been a fond statement was more like a deeply offensive revelation. "Left-overs. Left-overs! We only have left-overs because you two are on your own!" Last night had been a fluke with Nonna preparing almost too much for their family, but just barely.

The only person not accounted for was Carlino, and it was so ingrained in the rest of them that Nonna didn't even prepare a serving for him. He wasn't expected, and he didn't show up.

"You, go shave and get dressed."

"What?" Feliciano's comfortably full expression died when Lovino stood up and collected plates to take into the kitchen after breakfast.

"As soon as I finish with these we're going to track that idiot down, go get ready." Lovino would have to shave too, or at least change his clothes, but he was dragging Feliciano with him whether his brother wanted to go or not.

"Nooo… He's fine!" Get out from under the table- get out. "Why do you have to be like this?"

"Move!"

The simple reason was that Lovino's driver's licence had expired while he was out of the country. He wasn't in a hurry to renew it, but he wasn't about to get pulled over and put through the wringer for it either. He also needed to talk to his brothers, both of them, and if he had to kick Feliciano in the ass to get him out the door then Lovino would do exactly that.

"Okay stop it!"

So he did.

Several times.

Until he'd made his god-damned point.

"Where does he go?" He didn't wait very long after they were in the car to ask the question, aware that Feliciano found it odd to be the one driving, but Lovino just adjusted the sunglasses keeping the sun from hurting his jet-lagged eyes as they left their neighbourhood behind for a main road.

"You're taking this way too seriously."

"Really?" When they rolled to a stop at a red light, the older brother made a heavy point: "Because no one will look at me when they say that."

It worked quickly, because Feliciano's eyes fell from the road to rest on the steering wheel, his mouth twisting a little bit before he checked the now green light hovering over them. With a tap on the handle next to the wheel, the turn signal flashed and he pulled them around the corner unexpectedly, not exactly safe but far from the worst driving Lovino had ever seen or done himself. Still, that didn't make it normal behaviour for Feliciano to handle the car so aggressively, the street only carrying them so far before he turned again up into a parking lot behind a small strip-mall. They came to a short stop across two parking spaces and Feliciano put the car in park, foot on the brake and one hand up to go back through his hair.

"Talk."

"It's stupid."

"Then just say it so we can move on."

"He doesn't get it." The way Feliciano looked at him when he said that didn't match his face. His brother looked stressed, irritated: like he was finished putting up with something despite his infinite patience. When Lovino tried to get a bit more, Feliciano bit back with: "Anything: he doesn't get any of it. He doesn't know what the hell happened, or what you were doing, he was just a little kid but now it's like-"

"What? What was I doing?" When? What time was Feliciano talking about? It would have made this a lot easier, but his interruption just made his brother stop and stare at him. Feliciano's arms were folded over the steering wheel, the engine still rumbling softly until Lovino leaned over and flicked the keys to the off position in the ignition, just to shut off the noise.

"…For six years, you were the reason we had Christmas." That wasn't what Lovino expected to hear.

"It's not like I paid for-"

"Dad sent the money: you did the shopping." Nonno was the one driving. "And you're the one Nonno would send up the ladder to get the lights in place, and who had to climb into the attic for the tree and decorations." Any of them could have done that, Carlino and Feliciano always decorated inside just because the youngest brother had been too small to be left alone. "You bought the food." Nonna couldn't carry it.

"Feliciano what're you trying to say?" Lovino was twisted around in his seat, the belt digging into his shoulder a little bit. His brother just leaned back and slouched a little behind the wheel, knees up and feet away from the pedals. He crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his arms and letting out a slow breath behind the wide sunglasses he'd been driving with.

"I'm saying nothing's the same with you gone." Whatever Feliciano's eyes did behind the lenses, his voice matched it by dropping slowly. He knew they were looking at each other; it just was difficult to see. "But that I'm not surprised to know you're happier on your own."

And it was difficult… to hear those words.

Feli said more than he should have, but not enough to be very clear: next chapter should fix it!