Chapter Twenty-Nine: Christmas with the Vargas Family
"I've told you once about how my brother began dating someone, right? And then about how we argued and had a fall-out? Well, I'm pretty sure you already figured out that it's not the whole story." The hold on his hand tightened in a show of discomfort, but before Lovino assured Arthur that he didn't have to talk, the Briton already continued with his story,
"The person that Alistair was dating at the time was Marianne. It started some time in April; they officially announced it on the twenty-third though, which was a bit of a low blow for me. Honestly, I was rather attracted to her; we were like magnets in a sense. But, now that I think about it, it was probably only because Marianne offered comfort. I was bloody naive and desperate for some attention, but it was more like... like a drug. Ever since my mother passed away, I've never had anyone offer me affection like that before. I wanted to be cared for, to feel like I was wanted. Even the girlfriends I've had before meeting Marianne weren't like that; they were cute but nothing I wanted to last. They didn't quite understand, and there was very little connection. Those relationships weren't serious, not in the sense of what Marianne had promised me. I had vied for her attention, and she adored it.
"She said that 'the boys needed a mother figure' when she and Alistair came clean, but, personally, I think that was just bleedin' barmy. One day we were watching Disney's rendition of Peter Pan with my little brother, Peter, and then she came up with the idea the next day. It was probably just another one of her excuses; she comes up with a good lot of them. That's bloody annoying as well. I knew and know that Marianne didn't actually like Alistair, per se - not in the romantic sense, anyway. She thought of him a bit of a brute, not that I blame her. She confided in me, told me that she only thought of him as a good friend, but Marianne was far from a good friend herself - to both me and Alistair. You don't know why my brother kicked me out of the house, do you? I told you that he got angry, didn't I? Or that he got pissed off at me? Yeah, that was an understatement.
"I slept with Marianne."
Lovino's breath hitched in his throat, but the one who appeared to be even more in shock was Arthur himself. His sickly complexion was now translucent with a faint blue-green, phantasmal tinge. Arthur's free hand was now covering his mouth as his eyes were downcast and face crestfallen as though he would vomit at any given moment, disgusted with himself.
"I-It wasn't even once or twice... Throughout their entire relationship, whenever something went wrong, I was the one she turned to for comfort. At first, it was hugging and kissing, but somehow, things went wrong. We only wanted comfort, Lovino. We only wanted to be loved, to be cared for, but we were only licking festering wounds that probably wouldn't ever heal. I thought I loved her, and I thought she loved me. Our relationship was so... twisted. There's no other word to describe it. One day, she's playing the role of my mother, the next my sister and friend, and the next my lover. Still, I couldn't deny her every time she came to me. She would whisper that she loves me and everything would be okay. It was like a promise of hope, and I needed more of that. Thus, we continued with that kind of relationship... Until Alistair caught us one morning.
"He threw me out with a pair of pants and trousers and a t-shirt. It was ill-suited for December weather; still, what the bloody hell did he care? I was the godforsaken black sheep of the family, after all. I was a fuck up, a mistake. I should have never existed. He said all of that, and I said even more. I told him that he was inattentive as a brother and as a boyfriend and that it was no wonder why she abandoned him and went to me instead. I said a lot of things that I shouldn't have. We always do that - my brothers and I. Anyway, we fought, and I lost. I always lose against him; the man's probably not even human when it comes to raw strength and sheer power. Marianne tried to reason with him when he closed the door on me, but he wouldn't listen. He was disgusted with me, the bastard son who was like his father.
"I laughed for the longest time at that. My father, who impregnated my mother, was an arsehole, no doubt. My mother, who kept me, was naive. I was - am - a combination of both. I have both their blood in my veins. I was a bastard, a naive one, for thinking that maybe I had a chance at love. I thought that was bloody hilarious at the time.
"For almost a week, I went to school like that. I slept on park benches and showered or brushed my teeth at convenience stores. I didn't have a change of uniform, so I went to school in a t-shirt and jeans. Francis found me doing my homework in a café one day, and that was when he asked me what the bloody hell was going on. So I told him. I figured the Frog wouldn't judge me since he had his share of fuck ups as well.
"Living with the Frog for almost two weeks was one of the worst experiences I ever had. He pestered me like a mother hen, fickle and nagging, but it did bring my moods along, I have to admit. Of course, that's a secret! If I told him that, who knows what ideas he'll have in his mind! I swear that Frog is mad; one day he proposed - err - no, never mind - I don't want to remember." Arthur slapped a hand over his paling face. "I get sick thinking about it."
After recovering from his mild nausea, the Briton resumed his story, "That didn't last long though. Christmas day, Marianne found me. She took me under her wing and gave me an entire flat to myself - under her name, of course - so that Alistair wouldn't find me. She said that he hadn't taken any legal actions against her to spite us, but it was clear that he didn't want to see me for a long time. I believed her. She was the only one person I believed, and it's bloody funny because she's the one person whom I know to lie the most. She told me that she broke up with Alistair and that she had to study abroad in Paris. I knew that she just wanted to give me space though, but a few months later her father died. She had control of the company then. She's a fashion designer, you know? I started seeing her less and less, and I thought then that I had lost everything - my family and my companion." Arthur smiled at Lovino shyly, cheeks pink, before turning away in slight embarrassment. "Then I met you." He inhaled deeply, ignoring the sharp jabs lacerating his chest, and exhaled shakily. His smile turned bitter and remorseful as he remarked, "I'm fucked up."
"You're not fucked up, Arthur," Lovino insisted, grasping Arthur's hand and preventing it from hiding his face. The blond's other arm was wrapped firmly around his waist. "I-It was a lot to take in, dammit, and... I don't get all of it, but... Shit happens."
Arthur laughed lightly, grimacing when his chest was writhing with pain, before leaning against Lovino for support. "All of that, and all you can say is that 'Shit happens'! How eloquent, little ankle-biter!" he mused, smiling. "Well, you're right. Shit happens. I just wanted you to know that - " Arthur's cheeks reddened this time, and Lovino wondered just when the blond had gotten this adorable when he was flustered. Well, Arthur was rarely ever flustered. " - that Marianne and I, we don't have anything - possibly never did - but definitely not any more. We're only kindred spirits. We just understand each other. She'll leave us alone. It's different now. I don't love her romantically, but I do care for her. She's... Well, after hearing all that, it would be disgusting to call her my sister, wouldn't it? But... But she is like me and the other way around."
"Just a little, bastard," Lovino retorted, nudging him lightly, careful to avoid the ribs. "Anyway, it doesn't matter what the hell your relationship was with that woman. I-I-I-I've decided to steal you away from her already! It doesn't matter what the hell she thinks or what anyone else thinks because - " Lovino flushed before straddling Arthur's waist " - I want only you, dammit." He squeaked a shrill "Chigi!" in a mousy manner before burying his red face into his hands. "What the fuck are you making me say?!"
Arthur took hold of Lovino's hands, peeling them away from his face, and offered a timid smile. "Hey," he greeted bemusedly.
"Hey, yourself, stupid." Lovino snorted, averting his eyes away from Arthur's pink face. "What 'Hey'?"
The Briton pulled Lovino forward and drowned him within a sweet kiss. Lovino moaned in approval, returning the contact vigorously, until Arthur pulled away, gasping in pain, clutching his broken ribs. "Blimey," he cursed himself and his luck, "six to eight weeks like this? You've got to be kidding."
Lovino pecked his lips succinctly, and Arthur yearned to prolong the kiss. "You'll be okay, bastard," Lovino whispered before pressing a kiss to Arthur's forehead shyly. "You always are."
There was a light knock on the door, and both boys turned, surprised, to find a nurse cowering behind her clipboard and blatantly avoiding eye contact. "M-Mr. Kirkland," she stammered, "y-your x-x-ray appointment...?"
Oh. So that was when his appointment was. Maybe he really had ought to remember that.
"Right," Arthur responded shortly.
Lovino scrambled off his lover and gave a curt greeting to the nurse, who spared him a gentle smile.
"Why did she rent a flat on the top floor again?" Arthur grumbled as he wheeled himself in the direction of the lift begrudgingly. It was difficult enough boarding the bus and being treated like he was disabled or handicapped, which he was for the moment, but having to bother other people to help him get off the bus... It was embarrassing! Although he was happy to see his beloved pets again, he wasn't sure if he even had the strength to make it to the flat any more.
"Oh, I've got you!" Miss Jane exclaimed the moment she saw him enter the building, struggling to open the door from his seat, as she pulled open the door and then took hold of the handles on the back of the wheelchair. Since Arthur injured his ribs as well as his foot, Alistair was adamant against the use of crutches and preferred that Arthur was seated in a wheelchair until his cast would be removed. Naturally, the blond was irritated with his older brother's decision - without even telling him! - but the redhead refused to discharge him from the hospital otherwise. At least Alistair allowed him to remain in the penthouse - for now. Miss Jane pushed him into the direction of the lift. "Hope you have a speedy recovery, Mr. Kirkland!"
"Thank you, Miss Jane," responded the Briton amiably. "How have Winston and Elizabeth been?"
"Mademoiselle Bourgeois has been most attentive to them," Miss Jane replied with a smile. She disappeared behind the closing pair of metal doors, and Arthur had forgotten to ask her if she could take Winston out on walks now that he was unable to do so. Well, he supposed he could ring up the front desk once he got back to the flat. Unfortunately, Arthur had mistaken Miss Jane's smile as one of relief and good fortune or health and not one of mirth and excitement.
The moment Arthur returned to the flat, he unlocked the door after fiddling with his keys and the lock. Wheeling himself into the front corridor, Arthur struggled to close the door behind him without having to twist his front and possibly cause discomfort to his ribs. When he decided that it might be for the best to stand on his good leg for a brief moment, Winston shot from the living room (where a hissed "Chigi!" rang through the flat) and leapt onto him, knocking the blond onto his arse. Arthur cursed at first, glaring at his bulldog, before softening and laughing when Winston continued to lap at the side of his face. He stroked the area between Winston's ears, wincing slightly when the dog pressed against his chest.
Footsteps echoed against the presumably empty flat before growing louder and louder. Arthur raised his head to find Lovino staring at him with glowing red cheeks and timid hazel eyes. The brunet was holding Arthur's ginger Scottish Fold in his arms. Elizabeth was meowing lightly, pawing at Lovino's arms to release her. Upon noticing Arthur sprawled on the floor, the cat took it upon herself to wiggle out of Lovino's hold, making the latter gasp, and nuzzling Arthur's leg affectionately. The eyes of his beloved averted to the side in embarrassment. "B-Benvenuti a casa, mio Cuordileone," he muttered under his breath, nearly inaudible, but Arthur's ears managed to pick up the whispered Italian endearments.
"Hey," Arthur greeted breathlessly with a sheepish smile, "do you mind helping me out some? I'm in a bit of a bind."
Lovino rolled his eyes before prying the pets off their owner and helping Arthur back onto his wheelchair. Crossing behind the blond, he closed the door behind him before wheeling Arthur into the living room. "Do you want something, bastard?" Lovino asked roughly, masking his shyness. "I... I made some soup, b-but you can't have any alcohol, dammit! The doctor said it could fuck up your recovery rate, got it, bastard?!"
Arthur chortled and nodded his head. "Yes, I understand, darling," he responded teasingly - just to rile up Lovino. Yes, that's all that it was. It wasn't like the way they were reminded him of some married couple or anything and that he wanted it to stay like that. At any rate, he derived great pleasure from the redness tingeing Lovino's cheeks. "So what are you doing here? How did you get in?"
"Signorina Jane gave me a fucking spare key, dammit," Lovino replied shortly, blatantly avoiding all eye contact with the blond as he marched into the kitchen. He blurted out hurriedly, just trying to get the words past his lips so he didn't have to say them any more than he had to do so, "I'm going to stay here until you can walk, capito? We're going to spend Christmas together. I already have my bags unpacked, so you can't kick me out."
"Unpacked? But there's not a guest - "
"Chigi!" Lovino snapped from the kitchen. "I'm staying in your fucking room, bastard! Got a problem with that?! Shut up!"
Oh.
Arthur's chest flooded with inexplicable joy and delight before he realised that Marianne kept her clothes in the dressers and in the closet. A sense of dread pooled in his stomach. Had Lovino seen her clothes? How should he even address that? Arthur bit his lip. Should he even bring up that subject? That aside, how was he supposed to do his Christmas shopping with Lovino looming over his shoulder? Maybe he could do it online? No, what if there was a mistake in the order? Or what if the present didn't arrive on time?
Bollocks.
Snap!
Arthur blinked once, twice, before he found himself staring at Lovino's hand. The Italian had just snapped his fingers, breaking the blond out of his thoughts, with the slightest hint of irritation. "Really, what the hell can you be thinking about all this time?" the brunet murmured. He set a bowl of soup on the coffee table, the earthenware clinking lightly.
You, Arthur answered mentally before replying, "A certain little ankle-biter who never fails to surprise me yet again with all of his new tricks." Lovino blushed. Arthur smirked. "Is your grandfather fine with all of this?" the blond inquired curiously, genuinely concerned. "I wouldn't want to upset him."
"The only one who threw a fit was my idiot brother Feliciano," Lovino muttered. "Nonno was fine with it. He probably thought that you couldn't hurt me while in a wheelchair."
"I wouldn't ever want to hurt you," Arthur remarked pointedly.
Lovino smiled at that. "I know, bastard," the brunet replied. His hazel eyes sparked with a sudden realisation, and the Italian didn't fail to mention, "Which is why you're spending Christmas with me and my family."
Damn, Arthur cursed his luck, I thought it would have been just the two of us.
Later that night in his bedroom, Arthur dug through his drawers and was immensely relieved to see that Marianne had packed her items. She had left a note reading, "Ne gâche pas! Mais je vais attendre pour toi si tu le fais!" though. It made Arthur crack a smile. There really wouldn't be any bad blood between them then.
He pulled out a pair of joggers into which to change while Lovino was in the bathroom. Limping into the front corridor, he pressed for the front desk. "Miss Jane," Arthur whispered into the speaker as soon as he heard Lovino's shower water run, "I need your help. I need to go buy a Christmas present, but I can't do that with - "
"Understood, Mr. Kirkland!" Miss Jane replied merrily. "I'll have Mr. Vargas walk Winston early morning tomorrow, and then we'll take you to wherever you need to go!"
"Do you always roll around in bed this much, git?" Arthur inquired as he heard Lovino shuffle in the sheets beside him. The blond turned his head and found that his lover had his back turned to him. "Or are you always this bloody restless?"
"Nn," was the only response the Briton received. Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes before stretching out his arm and slinking it underneath Lovino's waist, pulling the smaller boy to his torso. Lovino yelped in surprise but didn't struggle against Arthur. The pallor of his face was noticeably glowing red rather deliciously now, and the young Englishman couldn't fight a smile off his lips. When Lovino glanced at those tender eyes, his heart stilled, and the Italian directed his gaze to anywhere but Arthur's expressive eyes. Instead, he was currently studying the patterns of the Tudor rose on his chest. Evidently, the older boy slept bare-chested, which made Lovino, dressed in only a pale blue tank and a pair of white boxer briefs, even more flustered. Lovino's eyes strayed lower in a futile attempt to avoid locking gazes with his lover, but his heart soon plummeted to his toes when the younger boy laid eyes on the stitches sewed into Arthur's flesh. His fingers traced them lightly, his touch barely ghosting the stitches, as he asked, "Does it hurt?"
"Sometimes, yes," Arthur answered, "but I take my pills occasionally. You have nothing to worry about, Lovino. I swear to it."
Lovino shook his head. "If I hadn't called and told you to come - "
"I wanted to see you anyway," Arthur insisted, "so enough of that, you miserable twit. What's done is done. I'm fine now. I'm still alive and breathing, and you're right in front of me. I want it to stay that way." There was a momentary lapse of silence. The Briton brought himself to ask, "Is that why you can't sleep?"
Lovino's cheeks burned like the flames of a candle as their eyes met for a split second. The Italian shook his head then as he returned to hiding away shyly. "N-Not that," he muttered.
"Then what's eating you, Lovino?"
He whined a bit, avoiding all eye contact once more, before an idea dawned upon Arthur. He took Lovino's hand gently, bringing it upwards to rest upon the Tudor rose, and pressed the palm flat against his chest, right above where his racing heart should be.
"You're not the only one nervous," Arthur remarked. This time, his green eyes strayed away from Lovino's awed and inquisitive gaze. "I said that I didn't want to hurt you, and I don't... but I don't know if it can stay that way - with how you're so close to me and everything. I want to mark you and make you mine, only mine and mine only, but I don't want to scare you at the same time because I want to keep you by my side - always." Blushing, he added, "It's the first time I've ever felt this way; all of this is new to me. I don't know how to deal with it."
Lovino leaned closer into his warmth, mumbling under his breath, "Me too, Arthur..." His words were inaudible, and he was partially glad. He didn't want to be caught saying something so embarrassing.
"I won't do anything to you if you don't want it," Arthur continued, stroking Lovino's hair. "I'll restrain myself - promise." He was oblivious to the fact that Lovino was already falling asleep. "I... I love you, Lovino." Glancing down, he saw that the Italian's eyes were shut in the lighter stages of sleep. Scowling, he grumbled rather indignantly, "You git."
"Damned leg," Arthur mumbled as he wheeled himself out of the lift. It took even longer to just leave the bloody flat than it usually did, and he was losing time with every time he spent trying to close the ruddy door. As soon as the metal doors parted, Miss Jane blinked at the sight of a scowling Arthur. His foul mood soon dissipated, replaced by a confusion that mirrored Miss Jane's. "Good morning, Miss Jane."
"Oh, Mr. Kirkland! I thought I was coming to retrieve you!" the receptionist exclaimed with surprise. She gave him a sheepish smile before politely taking reign of his wheelchair. They both waved goodbye to her colleague, a pretty little Asian girl who had dyed her hair a golden blonde with honey highlights and caramel lowlights. Evidently, she was still a college student, working part-time to help pay her tuition.
The two of them boarded a bus to the city centre, where a strip of boutiques were located on 12th Avenue and 9th Street. As soon as they were back on the pavement, Miss Jane inquired, "So where are we heading?"
"Jewellery shop," Arthur answered shortly. Upon seeing the devious grin stretch across Miss Jane's lips, the blond hastily added, "I can go by myself, Miss Jane. Thanks for escorting me here, but, er, your assistance is no longer required."
"Oh, don't be shy! Show me what you're getting Lovino!"
Just hours before the twenty-fifth, Lovino woke up especially early, dressed in a pair of dark trousers with a matching blazer, left unbuttoned over an ivory dress shirt. He shrugged on a tan winter coat and wrapped a snug knit scarf around his neck fashionably. He dug through the dressers and the closet to fish out a fitting suit for Arthur before tossing a pair of gray slacks at the sleeping blond with a darker gray waistcoat and a white dress shirt. Lovino pulled out a red checked tie and hurled that at Arthur as well so he could continue raiding the blond's closet. When he finally found the blazer that matched his trousers, he chucked that on top of Arthur's rising head. "Hurry up and get dressed, bastard," he ordered firmly, crossing his arms.
Arthur growled lowly, a scowl set on his lips, as he remarked, "Why would I get dressed just because you told me to? I mean, you haven't even explained anything at all! Just a few days ago, you dropped, 'We're spending Christmas with my family,' on me without so much of an explanation! And what's this? A suit? Bloody hell, where are we going? It's almost midnight!"
"Christmas Mass!" Lovino answered shortly, wrinkling his nose. "Midnight Mass, to be accurate."
"M-M-Mass?" Arthur repeated as his face paled. "L-L-Like in a c-church?"
"Well, where else would you go - ?" The Italian stopped in the middle of his snide remark as another brilliant realization dawned upon him, explaining Arthur's strange reaction. Concern stretched across Lovino's face. "A-Are you atheist or some shit? You don't have to go if that's the case. I mean, it doesn't really bother me, but Nonno is pretty religious..."
"N-No, not quite atheist, rather, just non-religious. My mother was Catholic, and I hear my father might have been Protestant. I don't really bother with that any more. I mean, God is good and grace, I suppose," Arthur responded shortly with mild panic in his voice, "but - err - I'm not going to disintegrate or anything on site, right?"
Lovino froze.
What the fuck?
Lovino burst out laughing as Arthur hid his reddened face behind his hands. "Don't laugh!" the blond cried. "I know it sounds stupid, but I always get the feeling that I've been barred from places of religious worship! I can't step even a foot near them - much less inside - because I feel like God would hurl a lightning bolt at me if I entered one of His houses!"
Lovino's laughter died when he considered that the issue was probably more grave than he had originally thought. Guilt shamed the younger boy into approaching his lover tentatively. He pried Arthur's hands away from his embarrassed - no, more shamed - face and asked, "What are you talking about, bastard? Why would you feel that way?"
Arthur turned his head away, green eyes wavering, as he confessed under his breath, "Look at me, Lovino. I'm a bastard child with dirty blood and a foul temper, and I slept with my brother's girlfriend. I've fucked up families, and I've ruined relationship. I'm a terrible person." He sighed. "There's no way that even God could forgive a person like me."
Lovino clicked his tongue and then forced Arthur to look at him as he snapped, "Like hell you're a terrible person, dammit! You're the kindest person I've ever met! I know that! Everyone knows that! You've never done a single selfish thing! You always put others before yourself even if you don't act like it! Like that one time you threw that little surprise for that shy bastard - Matthew - or that one time you spent a night in jail for Michelle and that perverted bastard! Just because you messed up doesn't mean that you're a fucking asshole! Everyone makes mistakes, goddammit! You're an idiot if you think that you're a terrible person that way! It's not like you did it on purpose, right? So stop putting yourself down! If you feel guilty or shame, that means you still have a conscience and a good heart!" Panting heavily, Lovino caught himself acting in the heat of the moment and stopped, flushing with embarrassment. "You're a good person, and I've always vouched on that, dammit. I fought against my grandfather and my brother on your side, you fucking jerk, so don't tell me that I made a mistake, capito? It's got nothing to do with God or forgiveness or repentance, you bastard. I believe in you. I... I trust you, dammit."
Arthur stared at Lovino, momentarily shocked, before breaking into chuckles. The younger boy reddened and ducked his head, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks, before Arthur ran his fingers through Lovino's perfectly tamed hair. "And I believe you, little ankle-biter," the blond mused, pecking the top of his head affectionately. "I'll... I'll step on church grounds for you."
Lovino nodded mutely, keeping his eyes downcast, before muttering, "I forgot to tell you that Nonno and Feliciano are going to be here soon." He glanced at the clock at Arthur's bedside and mentioned, "About half an hour."
Arthur frowned. "If I didn't have a useless leg, I would be done in five minutes," the blond muttered before he swung his right leg over the side of the bed and then heaved his left leg over as well, dragging it to the door with his clothes clenched in his hand. He shuffled through the drawers, pulling out some underwear that Lovino had overlooked, and slipped a small velvet box into his hand discreetly, hiding it from the view of the younger boy,
"Y-You need help, bastard?"
"I should be fine. The bathroom isn't that far away!"
Lovino arched an eyebrow as he heard a clattering of plastic bottles and a loud "Shite!" five minutes later but made no comment. After all, Arthur, as he had said, should be fine. The Italian snorted ungracefully before clicking his tongue in disdain. Shrugging off any worry he may have felt, Lovino proceeded to prepare them breakfast. Humming a seasonal tune quietly as he began to brew them some cappuccinos, spiced with some cinnamon and nutmeg for the holiday season, Lovino nearly forgot that Arthur would have been done with changing by now. Obliviously and contently, Lovino buttered a few slices of toast before cutting them some fresh fruit. He gasped when he felt two arms snake around his waist and a pair of lips press against the bare skin on his neck chastely. The newcomer inhaled deeply, suppressing a wince, and sighed with delirium.
"Smells good," Arthur chirped, resting his forehead against the back of Lovino's head. "You didn't prepare any tea?"
"I-I don't know how to brew tea, bastard," Lovino grunted, "so don't complain. I've only ever had tea when I was sick. Speaking of sick, shouldn't you be off that leg of yours?"
Arthur chuckled and responded, "I'm not putting my weight on it, so it should be fine - hopefully."
"Chigi! Hurry and sit down, you idiota!" the Italian snapped. "I'll give you hell if you have to wear that cast longer than what the doctor predicted because you're always trying to walk on your own, dammit!"
"It's such a pain to use the wheelchair though," Arthur mumbled childishly as he seated himself at the kitchen island. "It takes too much time to wheel myself somewhere and to open a bleeding door! You'd think that there'd be a kind-hearted bloke willing to spare five seconds to open a door, but, unfortunately, it seems that no such person exists! It's that bloody diffusion of responsibility shite or the bystander effect at work!"
Lovino snorted. "Poor baby," he remarked dryly. "Let's hope you won't have to be wheeled everywhere when you're gray and senile." The brunet set a plate of fruits and toast in front of Arthur as well as his cup of cappuccino.
"Ha!" Arthur huffed indignantly as he stirred the foamy liquid. Against his better judgement, he inhaled the fresh aroma of espresso, hot and steamed milk, and seasonal spices. Consequently, his ribs began aching again. He smiled at the Christmas tree latte art in the crema before taking a delicate sip, relishing the taste. It was a perfect blend of coffee and milk; Lovino truly did have the tongue of a gourmet. "Thanks for the breakfast, luv," he responded absent-mindedly, oblivious to the reaction he stirred in Lovino, before he merrily devoured his light breakfast. He was now well-adjusted to the fact that Lovino prepared a simple breakfast - usually only with coffee and pastries or bread - instead of a full English breakfast. He wouldn't complain though since everything Lovino made was absolutely delicious. It was definitely much better than anything he could prepare anyway. Whenever he tried making a full breakfast, everything he fried became burnt - including the eggs, of all things. At one point, the flat became caked with the smell of soot, smoke, and ashes, and that was when Marianne drew the line and banished him from the kitchen.
As they were putting away the dishes in the sink (well, more Lovino than Arthur), there was rhythmic knocking at the front door. Listening closer, it sounded like the melody of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas." Lovino grimaced at the sound, wiping his wet hands on a dish rag, and commented, "That must be Nonno and Feliciano. I'll get it, bastard. Don't move."
"Yes, dear, of course," Arthur responded sardonically, kicking back on the sectional in the middle of the living room. He relished in the red coat covering Lovino's cheeks with a smirk and watched as the Italian stomped indignantly to the front door with Elizabeth close on his tail. Winston hopped onto his lap, and Arthur greeted his pup lovingly. When he was certain that Lovino was out of his range of vision and out of hearing range, Arthur fingered the velvet box in the pocket of his trousers before slipping it into the larger, more secure pocket of his wool coat sitting at the arm of the sectional.
At the front door, he heard Feliciano coo, "Kitty!" There was a sharp yowl from Elizabeth and a loud, "Chigi!" Arthur chuckled as he heard a string of Italian curses slip past Lovino's lips while Feliciano spoiled Elizabeth with affection. Subsequently, he heard Mr Vargas invite himself inside, marching into the living room. The grandfather appeared before him, chirping, "Artù! How have you been? How are your injuries? Buon Natale!"
"Good morning and Merry Christmas, Mr Vargas," Arthur greeted amiably. Could midnight be considered morning?
"Loosen up, Signor Cucciolo di Leone!" the eldest Vargas exclaimed as he sat down beside Arthur, dressed in a fashionable Italian suit. He nearly pounded Arthur on the back but thought otherwise. Instead, he repeated his earlier inquiry with genuine concern, "How are your injuries? It's only been two, three days since your release?"
"Three days," Arthur confirmed with a nod before smiling and adding, "I'm indebted to your grandson."
"Nonsense! It's nature - good nature - to care for someone you care about!" Mr Vargas responded wholeheartedly. Feliciano entered the living room then, cradling Elizabeth delicately in his arms, while Lovino walked by his side, scowling.
"What was with the noise, git?" Arthur inquired curiously.
"Feliciano tried chasing after the fucking cat."
"Ve!"
Arthur chuckled. "Well, she is adorable," the Briton boasted, buffing his nails on the fabric of his coat.
"You're acting like you controlled her damn genes," Lovino remarked dryly. He considered this option before dismissing it as quickly as it came. Arthur had told him that he picked up Elizabeth from the streets in the middle of pouring rain; it wasn't like he took charge of her parents' breeding. Besides, it wasn't like the blond would even consider playing the part of a mad scientist either to create the perfect cat.
"You take care of two pets by yourself?" Mr Vargas prodded as he eyed the tubby Winston resting atop Arthur's lap. The elder took care to avoid the fact that Arthur hadn't set up a Christmas tree and that the apartment was practically empty aside from the most basic of furnishing. He knew little of Arthur's past in comparison to Antonio's incessant ramblings about his family, and he worried that his grandson would be getting involved with someone who wasn't a family-oriented person. Arthur was a nice boy though, and he knew that the English boy didn't particularly despise his family from the last time he spoke of them. It seemed to be a somber and solemn topic for him, however.
"Sometimes the landlord or the receptionist looks after them when I'm out for school," Arthur explained, "but most days, yes. They're good company... although this one - " the blond glowered at Winston playfully, and the bulldog whined " - is a lazy git. Some days it's hard to get him out of the flat for a walk."
"And then when he's out on a walk, he always gets distracted by the littlest thing," Lovino grumbled. "Indecisive son of a bitch."
"Shh!" Arthur covered Winston's floppy ears as soon as the latter whined at Lovino's tone. "He's sensitive!" The two of them shared a smile before Arthur snatched his wool coat off the sectional and his keys, phone, and wallet off the coffee table. Standing on his good leg, he queried, "Shall we go? I-I must confess that I haven't been to a church since I moved to Hetalia and that I'm not well-versed in the Bible or hymns o-or prayers." He decided to omit the fact that he didn't even know how to pray. He never saw the point, but for today, he would do as Lovino asked. After all, this appeared to be tradition for the Vargas family.
Lovino snorted. "Don't worry about it, bastard. You'll catch on fast," the Italian assured before cuffing him in the shoulder. "Now get off that leg and back on your wheelchair."
The ride to the family's usual church was lively with the Vargas family bickering animatedly about nothing in general. Mr Vargas and Feliciano brought up the fact that they especially missed Lovino's cooking more than once, and the younger twin seemed particularly tolerant of Arthur today. For the Briton, Mass was completely uneventful, filled with stories with which he was vaguely familiar, and much too formal for his liking. However, glancing at Lovino's serious visage, he decided that it wasn't so bad. At least he didn't have to kneel or stand for too long with his leg fucked up.
"Ve, what did you pray for, Fratello?" Feliciano asked as soon as they left the church after two or four hours. "I prayed for a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!"
"Chigi!" was Feliciano's only response, along with a completely red Lovino who gave Arthur a fleeting glance. The blond pretended he hadn't noticed the stolen glimpse to give Lovino an ease of mind. However, he couldn't entirely suppress the soft smile on his lips. The elder Vargas then drove them back to the Vargas household, where Arthur promptly collapsed on the couch, much to Mr Vargas' amusement.
"Let him sleep. He's still recovering from the accident," he mentioned before waggling his eyebrows at Lovino. "Better the living room than your rooms, sì? What have you two been doing the past nights?"
"Nonno!" Lovino hissed. "He's injured!"
"So you do want to do something with him?"
"Nonno!"
"What? I'm just asking if you boys stayed up playing card games or whatever it is teenage boys do nowadays, Roma! What did you think I was asking?"
"Chigi!"
Later, Arthur woke up to the smell of Italian coffee wafting into the room and joined the family for another breakfast before Feliciano was allowed to dive into the cluster of presents at the foot of the gorgeous pine tree in the middle of their living room. Arthur sat on the sofa, smiling as Feliciano unwrapped a wooden easel, a set of paints and brushes, a new sketchbook, and a little pochade box. Lovino, on the other hand, received a heavy cookbook marked with recipes his family wanted to try, which he accepted begrudgingly, as well as a new shirt, designer jeans, and a comfy looking cardigan. The scene reminded him of how they used to celebrate Christmas - though his family was awfully rowdier - and how it was only that one day of the year where they could get along... until two years ago, that is. Christmas had never been the same for him again. Arthur had never bothered to buy a small artificial Christmas tree because the holiday didn't hold the same meaning to him any more.
Suddenly, a small box wrapped in red, white, and green dropped onto Arthur's lap, breaking the blond out of his reverie and reminisce. Lovino scowled deeply, looking away with a flush on his cheeks, and grunted, "For you, bastard." The brunet collapsed onto the spot beside him on the sofa and began fiddling with the hem of his clothes, still avoiding eye contact. He did watch, however, as Arthur's fingers ghosted the smooth, unblemished surface of the wrapping paper before gingerly pulling apart the paper, careful not to make any tearing sound. Lovino didn't make any comment since, judging by the nostalgic expression on Arthur's face, he was thinking of something particularly solemn.
"What the...?" Arthur whispered as he gingerly took a key from the box sceptically. Peering closer, it looked as though it was his motorcycle keys, but they couldn't have been. His bike was done in by the wreck. There was hardly anything left of it, and by the time he remembered it, he realised that he didn't have enough money to repair it and buy Lovino's gift. (Like hell he was going to use Marianne's money! He was done with that shite.)
"I had repairs done to your bike, bastard," Lovino muttered. "It's waiting at the parking garage in the usual place. Just don't ride it yet, got it? Not until your leg's all fixed up and your ribs are all better."
"H-How?
"I work, remember?" Lovino remarked. He rubbed his nose uncomfortably, not wanting to admit the real price of having the repairs done. Instead, he explained, "I have a college fund, so I ended up taking a few months' paychecks to pay for it." Upon seeing Arthur's panicked expression, he hurriedly added, "It's fine anyway! I don't even know where I'm going or what I'm going to do!"
Arthur's eyes softened, and he then pulled Lovino into a hug. Lovino allowed him, though he was still shy around his grandfather and his brother, both of whom watched them warmly. Had he recalled, Feliciano would have retracted his disdain towards Arthur in that moment. "Come here, you little git," the blond muttered, choking back his tears. "Thank you so much. I... I have your present right now, but I want to give it to you later. When we're alone." He felt Lovino stiffen and chuckled in amusement. "It's nothing bad, I swear."
A/N: Just clearing things up, Arthur's not quite an atheist. I don't think that he doesn't believe in a higher power since in canon-verse he can communicate with supernatural creatures and the paranormal. I think he knows there are things beyond human explanation. It's just an interpretation, of course.
I also have these chapters pre-written. I finished writing this story about a month or two ago, actually, so, uhm, yeah. Fast updates. There are thirty-four total chapters including the epilogue, so... I'll be finished with this soon.
