thatonespamanoshipper said : Could you maybe do more PTA dad romano? I mean if you want to of course, that's first priority and all. I really loved the peanuts fic you did with that kind of thing so yes okay thank you!
Continuation of chapter seven: "Fuck Peanuts."
"Can you say papa, sweetheart?" Antonio waved a hand in front of Camila's face. "Claudio, I have some bad news."
Claudio didn't look up from his comic.
"I'm afraid we're going to have to return your sister."
Claudio's eyes snapped up. "What? What the heck are you talking about! Dad said that—"
Antonio held Camila in front of Claudio. "She won't speak, Claudio! I don't know what else to do! We'll have to return her and get a better baby. Maybe a puppy. I like cats better, but Dad likes dogs better, so I guess it'll be a fair trade."
Antonio could hear the engine from a mile away. The sounds of screeching tires. Of burnt rubber from tires they've had to replace weeks ahead of schedule. Lovino's third child, even.
Claudio ran to the garage, and he was already yelling as he threw open the doors. "Dad," he whined, "Papa said that…"
Claudio froze, then scurried back inside. He hid behind the couch Antonio was sitting on. Antonio, for his part, bounced Camila on his knee.
Lovino strode in, groceries in one hand, the other on his hip.
"Claudio!" Lovino called.
Antonio grinned. "Welcome home—"
Lovino stalked around the living room, groceries swinging widely. "Where is he? We have business to attend to."
"Oh, my day was fine, thank you for asking," Antonio said brightly. "I'm afraid we're going to have to return Camila, she won't speak!" Antonio held up Camila. "Look, see?"
Camila gurgled, and Lovino scooped her up in his free arm.
"Da," Camila said.
Antonio was offended. "Papa," he whispered, trying to be as persuasive as possible.
"A fucking bake sale, Antonio!" Lovino kissed Camila on the top of the head. "There's a bake sale tomorrow and I have abso-fucking-lutely nothing baked! Can you imagine what Rachel will say? Jesus, she's such a—"
Antonio coughed loudly. "Wasn't there a flier?"
"Someone didn't give it to me," Lovino said darkly.
"Santa?" Antonio said.
"Jimmy's mom didn't mean to skip over me! I was gonna' ask him for another one, but…" Claudio trailed off, or his voice was muffled by the couch cushions.
Lovino gave Camila to Antonio. He dragged Claudio out from behind the couch, stood him up, and put a hand on either shoulder.
"Claudio," Lovino said, looking deep into Claudio's eyes, "today is the day I am going to teach you your heritage. You're going to cook the best fucking bake sale foods to ever grace the face of your elementary school. Do you want to make Rachel embarrassed?"
"Who?"
"Do you want to make Jimmy's mom embarrassed?" Lovino nodded, slowly. "Because we are. Do you hear me? Do you know what your heritage is?"
Claudio shook his head.
"It's being really petty and shoving how much better we are than other people in their faces. Are you in?"
Claudio thought it over. "Can I lick the spoon?"
"Of course." Lovino's voice was grave, deadly serious.
"Can I lick the spoon?" Antonio asked.
"No," Lovino said, not looking at him.
"Da," Camila said.
Antonio hung his head.
…
Claudio had passed out on the couch hours ago, frosting covering his face. Camila, the good baby she was, watched them with her big, sleepy eyes as they walked around the kitchen; always content to lay on her blanket, head on a stuffed animal.
Antonio poured another glass of wine, watched Lovino. The wine had mellowed his movements out, and now Lovino's hands were calm and practiced, mixing in coloring or frosting, checking the taste of this batter and that.
He had changed out of his suit, in just underwear and a kitchen apron. Boxers were the only thing he would wear when cooking—everything else in his closet was too expensive.
Antonio sipped wine.
"Are you looking at my ass?" Lovino asked.
Antonio giggled. "No. I'm just thinking about how happy I am." He considered. "I mean, I am looking at your ass, but also thinking about how happy I am."
Lovino grunted. He cut open another cupcake, laying down the chocolate frosting. "This looks like a hamburger, right? This is so fucking cute, I could kill myself." Lovino stuck his finger into the frosting and held it out for Antonio.
Antonio nearly cheered with joy.
"Don't eat my finger off," Lovino laughed.
Antonio caught his wrist, slobbered all over Lovino's hand. Lovino scoffed, but it turned into a chuckle, grew into a full-blown laugh he had to slap his hand over, tears streaming from his eyes.
"I cannot believe," Lovino hissed between silent laughs, "I'm making fucking cupcakes at two in the morning."
Antonio loved him.
…
"Jen!"
Jen stiffened, then turned around. "Ah, Lovino—"
"I need your table," Lovino said, eyes invisible behind his sunglasses. "I need to show the fuck out of these PTO bitches. I made hamburger cupcakes."
Jen smiled. "They're really cute."
"I know." Lovino slapped his tray down on the table Jen had been resting her diaper bag on. "Watch these. I'm going to get the rest."
"The… rest?" Jen asked, but Lovino was already striding away.
By the "rest," Lovino meant four more trays of various themed cupcakes. Jen felt very inadequate about her cookies; they either had too much baking powder or too much baking soda. They were sad cookies.
Lovino's cupcakes were arrogant. They were not sad.
Lovino stood behind his cupcakes, one hand in his pocket, sipping on a coffee, hair styled, shoes shiny. He caught Jen staring at him.
"I haven't slept in twenty-four hours. These fucking cupcakes took ages to make."
Jen noticed his hand shaking as he sipped.
"I have so much fucking caffeine in my system I can actually feel my heart deteriorating." Lovino said it so softly, Jen wasn't sure if he was talking to her, or whispering it to himself.
Lovino sold every single one of his cupcakes.
He made close to two-hundred dollars.
Jen watched him in between customers, and she was almost positive his head kept dipping down because he was falling asleep standing up.
"You know," she said, "I admire your dedication to helping the school district."
Lovino laughed. "Ha, no, I just really want to rub Rachel's and Lauren's face in how fucking fantastic my cupcakes are."
…
"Papa."
"Da?"
"No, Papa."
Camila started crying.
"She loves me more," Lovino called from the kitchen.