Feliciano bent over his sketch pad, focusing on keeping his pencil still as his brother drove. Every few minutes, Feliciano would glance over at Lovino, making sure the older had his eyes on the road.

"What are you even drawing?" Lovino finally asked, glancing at Feliciano.

Feliciano hid the sketch pad, sticking out his tongue. "Nothing! Keep your eyes on the road and drive straight. I don't want you messing me up." He smiled as he continued to draw, feeling his brother's irritation rolling off of him in waves.

Lovino switched lanes suddenly, causing Feliciano to let out a disappointed sigh when his pencil skidded across the page. Lovino let out a grunt of amusement.

Lovino was actually driving calmly. It was predicted to be a rainy, cold weekend, and most people were staying at home. This left the roadways blissfully clear of traffic and allowed Lovino's road rage to disappear for the moment. Lovino almost looked calm, right hand on the steering wheel and his other arm pressed up against the window, hand supporting his head.

Feliciano shut his sketchbook and threw it on the dashboard, leaning back in his seat. He looked out the window, smiling when he caught sight of a little girl in red rain boots, waiting for it to drizzle as they drove by. He rolled his head to Lovino. "How much longer?"

"Feliciano, I'm not in the mood," Lovino muttered in Italian, turning on his window-wipers as a few raindrops hit the window shield.

"Hey, where have you been?" Feliciano asked, poking his brother in the arm. "I've barely seen you the past few weeks."

Lovino's shoulders tensed, and his left hand joined his right on the steering wheel. "I've been busy, Feliciano. I got a job this year, and my courses certainly haven't gotten any easier." Lovino shifted in his seat. "And we all can't float through life, like you do," he said.

Feliciano laughed, shaking his head. "I didn't say that you weren't busy. But even last year, you used to visit me, and we live two hours away." Lovino glanced over, and Feliciano grinned as he met his eyes. "Hey, when am I going to meet your boyfriend?"

Lovino inhaled sharply, coughing when he ended up snorting. Feliciano waited patiently for Lovino's coughing fit to subside, and for his brother to look over. "I don't have a boyfriend," he snapped, eyebrows furrowing.

Feliciano laughed and attempted to pat Lovino on the head, but his hand was smacked away. "Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

"I haven't been fucking avoiding you!" Lovino said, gripping the steering wheel.

"It's okay, you know, I don't think Grandpa will mind—"

"Feliciano," Lovino cut in, sounding exasperated, "I don't have a boyfriend. He's just some—some guy who hangs around, okay? He's a poor gardener who came to the same fucking plant store as me. He's not—"

"Lovino?"

"What?"

"You passed our house."

Lovino cursed and turned around in the middle of the street, giving the middle finger to a car he blocked off. He pulled into their driveway, turning off the car and playing with the keys. He steadily avoided Feliciano's gaze. "Don't say anything to Grandpa, okay? I can't… Deal with his…" He shoved the car door open, "Fuck, let's just get this over with."

Feliciano opened his own door, bouncing out of the car and over toward the front door. Grandpa Julius answered, immediately pulling Feliciano into a hug. He released Feliciano and grinned at his grandsons.

"Boys! It feels like forever since I've seen you," Julius ushered them into the house, closing the doors. The warm smell of cooking food hit Feliciano and he realized how hungry he was. "Feliciano, everything still going well?"

"It's great, Grandpa," Feliciano said happily, looking around the house. It was strange not to see his things strewn about—he was used to his Grandpa ordering him to pick up his clothes, sketchpads, or pencils from the floor or tabletop. The house looked strangely bare without the clutter.

A few more pictures had also been put up. Feliciano wandered over to the ones sitting on the mantel, picking one up and smiling. Feliciano looked to be about four, and was sitting on his Grandpa's lap, captured laughing and waving to the camera. Feliciano had always felt blessed he looked like his Grandpa—the same light brown eyes, same complexion, same facial structure. Julius never passed up an opportunity to compliment his youngest grandson on his looks, winking and nudging Feliciano with his elbow. Sometimes, he would reach out and ruffle Feliciano's hair, telling him for the nth time how it was the same color as his mother's.

Feliciano picked up another picture frame, setting down the first. This one had a photograph of teenaged Lovino, taken by Feliciano for his photography class. Lovino had been looking out the kitchen window instead of doing his homework, pencil poised limply to write. Feliciano had developed it in black and white, but you could tell Lovino's hair was darker than Feliciano's. The two definitely looked related, but Lovino was of a different composition than his Grandfather or Feliciano. A different nose, a different build, all together alien in the household.

Maybe that's why it had become harder for Julius to look at Lovino when as he grew older; Lovino reminded him of men that had long since left their mark on the family even after their departure.

Feliciano set down the picture, aware that Lovino was talking to Julius and that the pair was heading into the kitchen. His eyes flicked over the rest of the childhood photos. Two stuck out: one of Feliciano and Lovino's mother, still in high school, smiling at the camera at the beach, the other of their Grandmother, still young, pregnant, one hand on her hip and trying to look serious as her other hand brandished a spatula.

Feliciano shook his head, turning away from the photographs and hurrying into the kitchen, smiling as he entered. Lovino was helping Julius prepare a soup. Feliciano sat himself at the kitchen island, knowing that Lovino and his Grandpa cooked better when it was only the two of them.

Lovino was making meatballs and talking, looking irritable. "I've been talking to my counselor and trying to narrow down something that sounds interesting. She says that choosing my major and degree for Junior year doesn't really affect anything."

Julius was stirring the broth. "Still, you could have at least chosen something," he said, "Feliciano chose something, even if it was—Feli, how is Pre-Law going?" Julius craned his neck to look at Feliciano.

"Good! I started a model UN, and our first meeting was yesterday. It was really fun, even though no one really knew anything about the countries they chose," Feliciano laughed, shaking his head. "My friend Alfred accused this German guy of stealing American bombs, but it turned out Russia had taken them."

Lovino looked up from the meatballs, frowning. "You didn't tell me you started a club."

"Lukas didn't tell you about it? He came to the meeting," Feliciano smiled awkwardly, "And I hung up a bunch of fliers, and I think I told you once or twice."

Lovino tossed a number of meatballs down onto a baking pan, scowling as a couple bounced out of the pan and rolled to the floor. "Lukas is a dick," he muttered.

"Lovino, watch your language," Julius commanded in Italian, turning around to lightly hit the back of Lovino's head.

"He is!" Lovino shot back in Italian, before returning to the household's usual half English, half Italian dialect, "Can I come to the next meeting?"

"I don't see why not. But I don't know where you're going to sit, because my friend Kiku sits next to me, and the German guy sits next to me, too, because I promised I'd save him a seat. Oh, you can bring your Gardener friend, if you want," Feliciano stopped and knew he had said something wrong when Lovino shot him a look both mortified and furious.

Julius, from his new position of checking on the garlic bread, noticed the pause in the conversation and smirked over at Lovino. "Lovino, who's this Gardener friend?"

Lovino stared down at the tray of meatballs, and Feliciano could practically see the gears turning in his brother's mind. Finally, "Uh, yeah, her name's Emma." He washed his hands in the sink, and Feliciano watched worriedly as Lovino ran a frustrated, wet hand over his face. "She's a gardener."

Julius laughed and straightened from the oven. He came over to Lovino and clapped him on the back, smiling. "That's the way, Lovino! You know, I was quite the lady-killer myself in college. Are we going to meet this Emma?"

"You're not," Lovino grumbled, throwing the meatballs in the oven.

Julius pouted. "Oh, come on Lovino. Don't be like that. You can bring her over next weekend, we can have a nice meal—"

"No, I'm not bringing her over." Lovino sat next to Feliciano by the counter.

Julius rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Feliciano, grinning. "What about you, Felici? Do you have any Gardener friends we should know about?"

Feliciano laughed and shook his head. "No, I've been too busy to flirt with girls! There aren't many girls in the political sciences, but there is this guys who has long hair that he keeps tied back, but he doesn't really look like a girl, except for his hair. And he's in my Calculus class."

Feliciano and Julius continued to chat about college, both careful to avoid the topic of Feliciano's future in his major. They moved to the dinner table and had some delicious soup, and Julius even allowed Feliciano and Lovino to have a couple of glasses of wine. Of course, throughout the evening, Lovino remained silent, staring intently at his wine glass. During dessert, Feliciano finally grew too worried and too frustrated by his brother's quiet.

"Lovino, why don't you tell Grandpa about your job?" Feliciano asked.

"He knows about my job," Lovino said, pouring himself another glass of wine.

"I don't," Feliciano smiled, hoping his brother wouldn't allow Feliciano's slip of the tongue to ruin the entire visit.

Lovino sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I work at a plant shop. It sells flowers and little trees and shit—"

"Language," Julius corrected.

"I don't really do that much, just haul around the pots and bags of mulch. I take care of the common plants that just need some water." Lovino's voice became softer, "But she says that I can start taking care of the more exotic plants soon."

"Can I visit you at work?" Feliciano asked brightly, and Lovino's head snapped up.

"No, you can't," Lovino said quickly, taking a large sip from his wine glass.

"Lovino, let your brother visit you at work," Julius commanded, before returning his attention to Feliciano.

After a light dessert of gelato, everyone retired to their rooms for the night. Julius seemed to have left Feliciano's room untouched. When Feliciano walked into his room, he sneezed at the amount of dust covering his tabletops and dressers. His sketchpads were still scattered around the floor, as well as a pile of clothes that never made it down to the washing machine.

Feliciano rifled through his dressers until he found a tank top before trudging into his bathroom to change and brush his teeth. It was nice to have his own private bathroom back because Alfred tended to leave his razors and shaving cream scattered around the sink, and he never folded his towels.

Feliciano bypassed his bed and shut off his room's light, tiptoeing through the dark hallway until he slipped inside his brother's open door. Lovino's room showed signs of Julius' meddling, as Lovino's various books and old Spanish dictionaries were put on their shelves, and there were no clothes on the ground. Feliciano only knew this because he didn't trip on anything as he walked over to Lovino's bed and collapsed on it.

"Go away."

"Lovino, I didn't mean to mention the Gardener!" Feliciano wiggled underneath the covers.

"I don't fucking care. That doesn't make it okay," Lovino snapped in English, rolling over on his side, away from Feliciano. "And you better have underwear on," he continued it Italian.

"Lovino, please, please don't be angry," Feliciano said quietly, poking Lovino in the back. "I'm sorry I made you lie to Grandpa, really. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell."

Silence.

"Why do you have everyone call you Romano?"

Lovino sighed, and Feliciano knew he was running a hand over his face. "Because."

"That was Dad's last name. But Grandpa changed your last name when—"

"Fuck, I know! I know…" Lovino sighed. "It's confusing, okay? Grandpa always says—acts like I'm like Dad so… I guess…"

Feliciano snuggled up to Lovino, patting the elder's hair. "It's okay, Lovino. Sometimes I wish that Grandpa wouldn't compare me to Dad or Mom, either."

Lovino batted away Feliciano's hand, but didn't repeat the action when Feliciano continued to run his hand through his hair. Lovino gradually became less tense, and just when Feliciano thought he was asleep, he asked, "Do you really like Law? You're not just doing it to be like Dad?"

A rare frown crossed Feliciano's face, but his voice came out light, "I've already told you, I honestly do like Law."

"If you say so."

Feliciano rolled away from Lovino, frown still in place.

Summer has not been as free as I expected. ;-; If anyone cares, they made wedding soup.

But, anyways, thank you to the lovely reviewers! You guys make my world spin round! Thanks Fruitstogether, crystal5207, Hilanthus, and Alya Spruce! Those new Followers, you too, rock. :)

As usual, the sexy-mazing kheelwithit Beta'd!

Any suggestions, critiques, or general love is always welcome!