A/N: Okay, let me present you Miguel! Alonso's big brother who left to Italy to work. Remember? Al mentioned him in his letters to Francois. He actually isn't as important as the 'youngsters' who from this AtW group but he is important to the next chapter. So I decided to tell how he met Romano! Ups, was that a spoiler? Nevermind.

15. Worst idea ever

Miguel rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He wasn't even sure how he had gotten into this mess. Nor did he know would he ever get out of it ever. He hadn't seen his family for years. Actually not since moving to Italy. And now… He had gotten mixed up with mafia in Naples and naturally had no way out.

"Sen-… Signor? Is there anything you need me to do?" Miguel asked his boss, the leader of a mafia famiglia the Spaniard was working for now. He had never learnt the man's name but did know that he didn't like any other languages than Italian. Thus Miguel had to be careful not to slip into Spanish accidentally. He had heard what had happened to the previous guy who had done that. A shudder ran along Miguel's spine. He really didn't want it happen to him too.

"Oh, nothing at the moment." The boss waved his hand dismissively. "Why don't you go and ask someone else if they have some tasks for you, Verdacia."

"Okay, signor…"

"And make sure that no one will disturb me. I have a meeting soon."

"With whom, signor? I-In the case someone asks." Miguel added hastily, terrified that he'd stepped out of line with his question.

"Vargas is coming for his visit. He comes every second month, don't you remember."

"Uh, no, signor. I haven't been here long enough."

"Ah, I see." The boss smiled mockingly at Miguel and waved him to go. The young man was silently fuming. Just because he hadn't been around more than one and half month didn't mean others should treat him like a kid. Yes, he didn't have much experience and he was very low ranking member but… What was he talking about? Never mind. Miguel left the study and headed downstairs where the rest of those who were in the house (manor) would probably be.

"Where's boss?" One of the thugs asked when Miguel got to the kitchen.

"In his study." The Spaniard answered. He didn't really enjoy talking to the other members of the house.

"Does he need anything?"

"Not at the moment."

"Alright, I need you to go and tell him-." And there the bossing came again. Miguel interrupted him though.

"No."

"What?!" Oh, he was angry now.

"Boss said he mustn't be disturbed. He's having a meeting soon."

"With Vargas, huh?"

"T-That's what he said." Miguel stammered under the thug's angry glare.

"You better be right. If you lie you'll find your teeth in your throat soon enough."

"Y-Yes, I know. I'm not lying."

The doorbell rang. Some other member of the famiglia went to open it. A short conversation was heard. Miguel wouldn't be surprised if that hitman who opened the door wouldn't be downright licking the guest's shoes while bowing to him. At least that's what his tidal wave of polite words and buttering up suggested. The guest in the other hand seemed to be annoyed by all this and answered angrily yet politely and seemed to get rid of the hitman soon enough. The guest walked past the kitchen entrance to the staircase and Miguel could get a good glimpse on him. The man was quite young actually. He had dark brown hair with a strange curl poking out of his fedora hat and seemed to have green eyes too, Alonso couldn't be too sure though. He had tanned complexion just like majority of South Europeans. The man was dressed in a dark suit and had stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

"Looks like you were right then, Verdacia." The thug muttered, obviously displeased about that fact.

"Yes… Say, who exactly this Vargas is?"

"Oh you haven't heard then?"

Miguel shook his head.

"Sit down."

The Spaniard obeyed.

"Lovino Vargas is probably the most influential man in this half of country. No one really knows for sure because he reveals very little about himself. Anyways he acts as a sort of a mediator between famiglias and makes checkups in every single one of them every second month. I haven't never met him properly but they say one must not mess up with him… for reasons unknown."

"O-Okay…" Miguel had a bit hard time to wrap his head around this… enigma called Lovino Vargas. The man had looked barely over twenty but if even this thug and that hitman respected him that much… Just how much influence Vargas had?

"Don't worry, kid. You probably will never meet him face to face. After all you have just arrived without any ways to get up in ranks."

"Who said I wanted to climb ranks…" Miguel muttered as he got up to make something little for himself to eat.

"Well, have fun, kid. Clean the library for example." The thug chuckled and left the kitchen. Miguel scowled at his back. When translated to its actual meaning, that sentence would be something like: "Go and clean the biggest room of this house that collect the most dust and no one uses. And no arguments, newbie!"

A glass of orange juice and a slice of yesterday's pizza later Miguel found himself at the library. He actually liked the place. He loved reading although nothing could beat a good game of football (soccer to you Americans). There were historical books, books of arts, philosophy and regular novels too. Everything was in Italian though. It was the rule of the house. Thankfully Miguel was fluent on that language so he could entertain himself time to time. But now when he stepped into the room with completely different intention, he could only sigh. Why him?

Miguel dusted the books (all hundreds of shelf meters of them) quickly with a feather duster before taking a wet rag and wiping the narrow edges of the shelves in front of the books that were visible. All this time he was muttering more or less angrily in Spanish.

"I never thought, I'd hear an angry Spaniard." A slightly amused voice stated from the direction of the door. Miguel froze. He could not place the voice. Granted, he had definitely not met every single member of the famiglia but… So he turned around slowly.

"You're Spanish, aren't you?" Lovino Vargas asked whilst leaning against the door frame, giving Miguel a scrutinizing look. He had somewhat smug expression on his face despite the frown he also had. Miguel turned his back to the (supposedly) younger man and walked to the next shelf.

"So what if I am?" He asked calmly.

"Nothing. Just surprised. I know a Spaniard. He is always so oblivious and smiling it annoys me to no end."

"Well, I don't know what is your view of the world but people of one country are not copies of each other." Miguel gritted his teeth, just barely containing his anger. He heard Vargas scoff behind him and muttering something about knowing it better than anyone else. Miguel ignored it though and a silence fell into the room.

"How long have you worked here? I haven't seen you before." And soft sound, like someone had sat down on one of the soft and comfy (and dusty) armchairs.

"In this famiglia? Six weeks, give or take." Miguel shrugged, keeping his eyes on the books. "In Italy? About one and half years."

"That long?" The Italian's voice indicated that he was greatly intrigued by now.

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"A bit of this and that. Got a good job six months ago in a family restaurant and everything was fine and well until the owner said he had to kick some people out. He was really 'nice' though… helped everyone to get a new place through his contacts. And I… I ended up here the second I signed the contract." The Spaniard's grip on one of the shelves was quite tight by now and his shoulders were shaking in anger.

"Did you even read it?"

"Of course I did!" Miguel snapped, spinning around in process. "And it sounded good. Reasonable pay, good recommendations, it was fine. I even read the small print. But then. My signature was there and the paper snatched away from me. People leering at me in glee. Of course they were because they had managed to trap me into this deal with no way out. I haven't been in contact with anyone outside this house since then."

"Who would you contact then if you had a chance?" Vargas's face didn't betray any emotions.

"Oh, I don't know… Maybe my family back in Barcelona?" Miguel mused sarcastically before turning his back again to the Italian. "Please leave."

"Write up."

"What?" Miguel turned slightly to look over his shoulder.

"Write a letter to your family, I can give it to a friend of mine who will take it to the right destination."

"Why should I trust you? You work with these guys here." The rag gestured the half-closed door.

"I can't get you out of here but I can help you with that. Take it or leave it." The Italian stated coldly and got on his feet. Miguel said nothing as the man left the room.

Miguel did write the letter. It was mostly addressed to his brother Alonso but also had a few words to the boys' parents. In the letter Miguel apologized not contacting them before, saying he had a bit troubles finding work (a lie) but reassuring them that it was fine now. He was making a bit money (illegally mostly) and had a place to stay (he wasn't allowed to leave the place though). He couldn't tell when he could write next, maybe in two months (if Vargas agreed to deliver his letters). When he was done he took it to carry the letter around, after all he couldn't know when he would meet Vargas next.

It was about a week after that. Miguel was in a nearby park, having gotten a special permission to leave the house 'just for fun'. He had his football with him and he was making different trick with it. Bouncing it on his knees, balancing it above his head, etc. It had been quite a long time since he had done it all last but he still had the skills in his fingers – or feet. Back home he had even taught Alonso all those tricks.

"I wonder how good he is now."

"Who?" A voice that had become quite familiar to Alonso asked behind him. The Spaniard almost dropped the ball he was bouncing around caught it then with his feet. He huffed but once again didn't bother looking over his shoulder.

"My little brother. I taught him football tricks." Alonso replied. "I wrote the letter by the way."

"Can I have it then?" Vargas walked around him and extended his hand. Alonso resisted the urge to roll his eyes and bounced the football swiftly up, catching it with his left hand while the right one took the letter from the back pocket of his jeans.

"Here. It better reach him, Vargas."

"It will…" The Italian took the letter and walked out of the park. "I also have a little brother to worry about." He added. It was a tidbit of information that about no one else among the mafia famiglias knew. Alonso watched the man's back for a moment before continuing the tricks with the football. He could feel that the two of them had a strange connection now. Not exactly friends but not mere acquaintances either. There was some sort of mutual respect and understanding… probably.

"No entiendo este mundo…"

A/N: I hope Romano wasn't out of character... But I thought he'd be at least civil while dealing with the matters concerning tha mafia... And Miguel... well, he is a bit like one of the Baltics under Russia's rule. Maybe a bit like Estonia in that matter... Or not. I dunno.

They'll have a curious relationship. They might sass each other while being civil and act like they don't get along after all but they have trust on each other and understanding on eiach other's situations. Or something like that.

No entiendo este mundo. = I don't understand this world.

Next time you'll get Cantorini twins finally. I'll cut it in two parts probably though. I'm not sure yet.