Will You Be There, Tears of an Angel, Yellow, I Do It For You.

Recovery is almost ready to update but this was fully ready to update.

The dialogue is a bit painful, but I can't decide if it's because Feli's feeling the heat or if I could have done a better job of it. I'll let you guys be the judge so please leave a review at the bottom!

The Gay Brother

Service and Four Beers

By the time Feliciano and Mario had both calmed down enough to actually leave the office in the back of the restaurant, Carlino was gone. He wasn't on the premises and the rest of the staff were too busy with their own tasks to help look for him.

"So you didn't tell him?" Mario questioned, but his voice was tired instead of frustrated or angry with him.

"How could I without talking to you first?"

Feliciano's answer was heavy and awkward enough that his uncle just looked away. Mario rubbed the back of his neck with a rough sigh, muttering something under his breath about everything coming together poorly. Feliciano found that unfair, but then he remembered something else he knew he needed to ask someone about: Lovino.

"How many times has Lovino been up to Berlin since Mama passed away?" Feliciano could only count three visits: once just after she'd died, again in October, and then just last week for Feliciano's birthday. When he asked the question he watched his uncle pick his head up again, his round face looking a little pale before he quickly shook it and brought both hands up to wave away the topic.

"That's between you boys, I have nothing to do with it." Oh...

"I think you could have avoided the issue better by just answering me." There were certain things Feliciano knew you just didn't question or say, but this really shouldn't have been one of them. "Uncle?"

"It would really be better for you to ask your brother when he gets home tomorrow." And that just made things worse, because Lovino was supposed to come home today and Feliciano said as much. "He usually says that." Great.

Feliciano was following his uncle across the restaurant floor, reaching the till at the bar where a new credit-card reader had been installed since he'd last worked here. Mario's heavy hands quickly stacked the scattered menues and double-checked a note from the kitchen, because even if it was well past noon Feliciano still had to make himself useful. Those menus wound up in his hands under another copy of the same floor lay-out he'd dismissed earlier, so he checked the numbers and tables as he was spoken to.

"Now I don't want to hear another word about it: I want to hear you putting those German lessons to good use for our guests."

"I think I'd rather go home and take a nap..." And that comment, of all things, earned him a pinched cheek and a childish scolding.

"You can sleep all you want after the tour-bus is seated and served and have paid." He was not a child and bus? What bus? "There's one arriving today at one from Rome." It was already ten past the hour so what bus? "So they're a little late, it means you have about fifteen minutes."

"A bus so you mean, like, ten people?" Ten people at one table meant-

"Think closer to twenty." Twenty people at one time the floor was already half-full! "Happy birthday, Feliciano, I'm sure you can do it! And while you handle things here I'm going to go find your little brother."

"My birthday was on Monday and this is definitely not the gift I wanted." Twenty people making twenty orders- no wait what kind of bus was it? Was it a tour-group or a bunch of little groups? Were they setting up three big round tables or a bunch of small ones for parties of three and four? What if they didn't speak Italian or German? When was the last time Feliciano had carried more than his own plate out of a kitchen? Did he have a pen? Where were the pens?

You know what Feliciano had wanted for his birthday? He'd wanted a nice at-home dinner with his partner and his brother pretending to get along for a few hours. As far as actual gifts went he would have been happy with a bottle of red wine or a new tube of vermilion oil paint.

Instead he had three minutes to try and orient himself before he was up to his confused ears in the excited chatter of twenty-five hungry Swiss-Austrian tourists, and he really did want that bottle of wine.

"Wait, you speak German?" No, no he didn't no he really really- "Greta nevermind, ask this one instead!"

It was a lot like being a pet at a party, because Feliciano found himself very quickly being passed around from table to noisy table to play translator, taking orders and muddling through accents and dialects he just wasn't used to. It wasn't being made to speak that had him chaffing of course, but the way he kept having the exact same conversation over and over again with every person.

"Actually I settled in Germany about three years ago." But it wasn't really all bad, after all: talking to patrons had once been his best strength in the restaurant. "I'm an artist, of course! I've heard Vienna is supposed to be breathtaking."

The tourists and troubles just kept coming: a bottle of wine that was just too sweet for the patron's tastes, a piece of lamb served without enough pepper, and then a loud dispute over business and economics were just part of it. Thankfully, he was able to put that unwanted bottle of too-sweet wine to good use and serve it, on the house, in exchange for peace between vacationing business partners. Even as food came from the kitchen and landed on tables in front of hungry diners, Feliciano was still called on several times for his personal recommendations on the wine, the local sights, and he was partial to more than one inappropriate exchange.

"Excuse me, oh, sir, please wait." The light touch on his arm made Feliciano turn immediately, because even if he was sure he was walking in several directions at once he stuck his smile back on his face and looked down at a table holding four older women. Theirs was one of the only tables that actually spoke passable Italian: a band of friends touring across Italy before planning to take a boat over to Greece later in the season- it was hard not to overhear conversations like that.

"Of course, Ladies, how may I be of service?" More napkins? More wine? No, their glasses were fine and they were still enjoying their desserts. The four of them shared a look and a laugh and Feliciano had a terrible sinking feeling that... honestly, was probably just blowing things out of proportion.

"We know that in Italy you don't tip," not quite true, but go on. "but about forty minutes ago you took off your jacket, and those pants fit you fabulously from behind." He- oh.

"Oh, you made him blush! You're terrible!" Uuh... Yes, that really was a blush. He hadn't done that in a while and the laughter from the table was making it that much harder to bring under control.

There really had been a time where he'd watched Lovino go through this kind of thing regularly, but Feliciano already found himself painfully out of practice. He was sure he'd be able to get his face and body to cooperate for a friendly flirt, but his mind was screaming white-noise in two and a half languages. It had already been a long day, and he had no idea what to say that wouldn't end up being either stupid or vulgar.

But he did manage to make himself move. While his brain was spinning its tires in the mud he scooped up the patron's hand in one of his, lifting her pale hand up to his lips where, still lacking anything remotely charming to say, he kissed her fingers in thanks and told his lips to smile without stress.

"Then I hope your experience here is complete. More wine, Signorina?" Without quite allowing his eyes to open up all the way, he spoke close against her skin and then released her hand as he purred the final word. It felt awkward coming out of his mouth, but his guests' grasp of Italian was such that he didn't really need to worry about poetry. Her face lit up brilliantly with a scarlet flush, and well before he'd straightened up and shone a grin at the rest of the table, the same laughter as before was washing over the table cloth and shaking the glasses.

But that kind of side-splitting laughter, as embarrassing as it was for one patron and her unfortunate waiter, meant that if given half a chance then anyone at that table would recommend, if not revisit, the same little Italian restaurant. There were business cards for the restaurant and winery included with every receipt slip from the electronic till, all stapled neatly together and handed out in handfuls when requested. At least a dozen bottles of wine for the road were bought right at the counter with maps and brochures for the Valenti estate tucked into each tall bag. Their tour-group had already come from that direction and seen the winery, but the difference between just tasting a selection of wine and actually enjoying a bottle with a heavy meal did wonders for business on both ends.

It was well past four when the bus finally pulled away to get on the highway far away from town, and Feliciano was numb from his morning with family and his afternoon running out of smiles. His cheeks were actually getting sore, but in an effort not to repeat what had happened yesterday he quietly ordered a small sandwich for himself. If he had to be miserable then he wasn't going to get sick.

It bothered him that he hadn't seen his brother or uncle again yet, because it didn't make sense for Carlino to run off and actually hide himself away somewhere. He should have told their uncle that it was okay for Mario to break the news Feliciano had been fighting with, because his little brother had to hear it sooner rather than later, and he had to hear it from someone he wasn't furious with...

Shifts were changing and Feliciano was eating his lunch in the garden again, sitting in the same chair he had last night and trying to figure out what he was going to do with himself. The sun was beating down on his head and he couldn't shake the idea of a nice long nap to clear his mind. He could go all the way back to the house, or he could even find a patch of shade on some grass somewhere and take his chances that he wouldn't end up stumbled across by someone he'd rather not see. Either way he was finished here for the day, and the thought of swinging by the house just for a pad of paper and a pencil was beginning to appeal to him.

"Delivery!" But as soon as he heard that voice he realized he should have eaten his lunch in the car... "Good wine, the best in the region! Did you guys see that bus come through?"

Since he'd arrived, Feliciano hadn't heard Alice's voice sound quite like that. She'd been quiet and tense with him and that, honestly, wasn't right. Alice Valenti was not a quiet or timid kind of girl, she was loud, excitable, and if you couldn't hear her coming then she just wasn't coming at all.

But now he could hear her through the kitchen's open door. Her voice made him spring to his feet and, although he hated himself for it, he found a spot behind the lemon tree to, uh, not hide. He just wanted to stay out of the way, understood?

"Hey."

Oh no.

"Hey," it was Lovino's line-cook, the spectacled blonde who spoke poor Italian and worked beside Carlino and the restaurant's chef. She was just poking her head out of the kitchen, but when she saw him not-hiding she stepped out properly and pointed back inside. "She's looking for you." Shit, shit, shit, why would she be looking for him? But before Feliciano could ask the cook was called back inside, leaving him in the garden with an empty plate and no way of sneaking out the gate without looking like a complete coward.

One more time, he could do this. Feliciano was on his last leg but he was not done just yet.

"Alice!" But as soon as he moved from the sunlight to the kitchen light and on back into the dining room, he felt anxious. All it took was eye-contact to send a bolt of pure tension through the back of his last leg's only working knee.

"Feliciano!" Should have run away. They were both smiling but they both definitely should have run away. "How was your second day? You're done here, right?"

"It was great." Lie. "I was just finishing my lunch in the back." Not-lie. At least this time he hadn't caught her in work-out clothes or dressed down for the early morning, and maybe that was why Feliciano was able to lean on the counter in front of the restaurant's wine-racks and not feel like he was about to fall over. They were both dressed professionally, him in a collared blue shirt and black slacks, and her wearing a pale green blouse and grey pencil-skirt. He didn't look at her shoes, he just noticed that her hair was up in a neat, curly pony-tail behind her head with her long bangs clipped to the side of her face so the brandy curls stayed out of her way. If she was wearing make-up then he couldn't see it.

"What's this you've brought?" There was one wooden box with the winery's crest printed on it resting on the bar-top, several more stacked next to her where someone with a dolly had wheeled them in. It was a distraction from whatever else could have brought him out here, and they both jumped on it.

"Just restocking, but there's a new red in this batch." She would have been better off telling someone else about this, but she just pulled out a tall green bottle filled with red wine and ignored that fact. The vessel seemed almost black except for the indigo strip around the label, and she handled the bottle firmly and easily, resting the neck in one hand and spinning it with her fingers on the wide bottom. "Yes, this is one of them. It's quite dry, but there are a few deeper notes to it that are sort of like chocolate."

"That definitely sounds like something worth trying..." Feliciano wasn't sure if he'd said the words until her smile faltered a little bit, her eyes still stuck on her family's label until she quickly handed the bottle out for him to take. It was just another distraction, so he kept his eyes glued to it as he felt the familiar weight and the cool texture of the glass. "A table wine, right?" Something to be had with food.

"Yes, or on its own. It isn't much of a dessert wine though." Feliciano knew his wines, but he didn't know why none of that information was making itself available to him. He'd been doing poorly with conversations all day: talking to tourists didn't count.

"Maybe I'll take a bottle back with me." He almost said back home but it felt crass in his mouth, setting the bottle down slowly on the counter top. It should have been easy to fall into a conversation about wine, but as he slipped his hands into his trouser pockets the only thing Feliciano could think of to say was: "I haven't had your family's wine in a very long time, I'm sure it's even better than I remember."

"Oh, don't say that." She gave a stressful little laugh as she spoke, just a puff of air that got caught between her lips and nose. "Lovino brought you two bottles in February."

Silence. With the ambiance of the calm restaurant it shouldn't have been so definite, but the clatter of dishes and the murmur of mid-afternoon voices didn't have an impact. He knew without breaking that silence that Lovino would be furious with him, but Feliciano couldn't lie and say he wasn't getting angry himself.

"That's funny," except none of this was funny, "because I haven't seen him since October." The same thing he'd said to his little brother, and now he was watching his ex purse her lips again and look anywhere except at him. Feliciano took a breath and, "How many times has he-?"

"Can we talk about something else?" She interrupted and found the will to look at him in the same breath. Alice's body filled with air and straightened up as she set one elbow down on the counter, the box and bottle both standing between them for distance. "Anything else, like if you're going to your grandmother's birthday on Sunday."

"Of all the ways to change the subject..." Feliciano needed his idiot brother to come home so he could figure out what the hell was going on with him.

"It's a valid question, Feliciano." That wasn't his point. "She came by the house this morning after you left and was looking for you. She was upset about something your grandfather had said."

"Something about me?" It was improper to ask a question like that, nevermind to put it in what he knew was a bitter voice. Carlino had mentioned their grandfather getting riled up too. "Don't answer that, but what you want to hear is no: I'm not going."

"Why not?" Because it was none of her business, that was why, not that he could just say it like that... "Don't assume that that's what I wanted you to say."

"Well it's hard to think any other way, Alice." He knew that came out sharply and immediately closed his eyes hoping for a pause. She didn't say anything to rebuke his tone of voice, and with full awareness of the restaurant around them, Feliciano brought one hand up slowly to gesture carefully and make sure he was understood, his arm bending back and forth at the elbow. "I am not the only one keeping secrets anymore." Breathe deeply, speak slowly, he was not going to say something he was going to regret. "And I am not facing him again without knowing exactly what is going on behind those locked doors."

"Facing him?" She tossed the words back at him. "You make it sound like you're going to fight him, Feliciano he's in his seventies."

"Which is probably why I lost the last time I saw him." Alright, enough of this: it wasn't doing anything good for either of them. "Subject change." He was giving himself a headache now and closed his eyes again, touching his palm to his forehead gently so he could press down and stop the pain before it started.

"We might need a code-word for that soon, or some kind of short-hand." Her voice sounded tense and a little breathless, but it wasn't quite the same level as what he'd endured last night. Days in this place were beginning to last longer and longer, and it was wearing on him. "There uh, there actually was something I wanted to talk to you about. Something else, I mean."

Some kind of short-hand for "Change the subject!" might actually be worth looking into if their conversations kept carrying on like this: they stopped and started with more trouble than a dying engine. But at least they were trying again, and maybe this exchange was going better than the others: she'd known where he'd be today and had come anyways, right?

"What kind of something else?" But he knew he still had to be cautious, even when he looked up at her making that bold face she sometimes put on to get through something difficult. It wasn't a scary look, it was just the way Alice puffed out her cheeks a little bit with her pink lips puckered sort of like a fish. She was making herself stand taller than normal, which made it strange to see her body stretched so rigidly. Feliciano could remember her doing this since they'd been children though: if she ransomed her breath then Alice would have to make herself speak.

"Even if you aren't going to the party, are you at least going to give her something?" But this wasn't much of a something else.

"Subje-"

"No, just let me finish!" Feliciano couldn't help his frown, but this just confirmed that they needed a code-word: something harder to interrupt. "If you didn't bring anything from Germany then there are lots of places worth checking out in Rieti. The town has changed, Feliciano and it's worth it to go see while you're here. I know you want to speak to Lovino, but trust me he won't want to talk to anyone when he gets back tomorrow: come with me into town instead." Now that Feliciano had not expected. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he heard her right at all and had to stop and wait in case she tried to correct herself. She didn't.

"Was that, did you just suggest we spend the whole day together?" His hopes came surging up before he could stop them and Feliciano felt the first genuine smile of the day break through across his face. This actually felt like forgiveness, it felt like an olive-branch that he'd be a fool to refuse.

"I…" And the way she hesitated didn't frighten him either, because the way she did it was with surprise and then that firm angel's pinch on her cheek as she fought with a smile. Alice's whole face seemed to soften, and for the first time since he'd arrived Feliciano felt like he could actually breathe in front of her. "I did. I mean-" Mean what? This already meant more to him than he could- "I mean if the day is too long then we can just go in the morning, or in the evening if you want." He-

"I really don't care, whichever you prefer sounds best." Because it was real he couldn't get the smile off his face, it wouldn't budge and it didn't hurt him to keep it there. He wasn't sure he'd live it down if he cried in public and in front of her, but after the worst day of his week this was the kindest thing she could have offered him.

"Then… we'll leave early and see how it goes." That was a good idea, that was a wonderful, wonderful idea, and he… "Feliciano?" He just…

"S-Sorry." And now this felt pathetic, because if he looked back even over the last several hours then, excluding the blur of work, there had been nothing but anger and tears around him for days. "Something in my eye." It was exhausting to go from fighting Ludwig in the car to begging at Lovino in Munich, to tip-toeing around his in-laws and getting into a screaming match with his little brother and then his uncle. It was barely five in the evening and Feliciano was do damned tired…

"Pick a code-word." He was dabbing at his eyes with the cuff of his shirt when she spoke. He kept doing it over and over again while that sincere smile on his face started to seize up and feel forced like all the others. He felt her touch his other wrist and the awkward way she tried to hold his hand, not like a child, but like a friend. "Pick one or… or I'll have to ask what's really wrong."

"Rieti." He could have put more thought into it, but as he made himself stop and look at her properly again, Feliciano's smile felt welded to his jaw and was beginning to hurt all over again. Fighting, and fighting, and more fighting… One day without that would be worth it. "I… I would rather talk about Rieti."

When Alice smiled back at him this time, her cheeks looked just as hollow as his felt…

No temptation.

That was what a straight bar was meant to be: no temptation.

Just beer and sports channels, a lot of loud conversation and Gilbert making sure there was just enough food to keep them both standing and yet allow the alcohol to work its way through Ludwig. There was no temptation in a straight bar, because as comfortable as Ludwig was with himself behind closed doors, out in public there were specific rules and strict codes of conduct: women waited for men to buy drinks when they wanted to flirt, and men did not pick up men in straight bars. It was safe to come and sit and drink without having to worry about anything uncouth in a straight bar, Ludwig just had to think about beer.

"And he wants to get his Masters soon too." Beer and his partner, but Gilbert was barely listening to him and Ludwig just complained between long draws on the glass sleeve in front of him. "He says the museum will pay, but you know who has to really pay? Me." Another drink, and his tongue felt a bit looser so Ludwig just let it go: "He's grumpy when he has to study and he's like a little child when papers are due. It's two years to earn a Masters of anything and he wants to only go back part-time, that's three years! Maybe four! He expects me to put up with him whining and complaining for the next-"

"Less yelling, more drinking." Gilbert reached across the bar and nudged the base of his glass closer to Ludwig, and like a rotten child Ludwig just scooped the drink up and pulled the bitter, earthy drink over his tongue and let the fragrant scent flood straight through his sinuses. "And dude you met in college, you put up with it then, didn't you?"

"We were both in school: that's different. I'm not going back."

Less complaining, more drinking. He emptied his second beer and was making steady progress on the third by the time the game on the screens caught his attention well enough to shut him up. A clean goal for the city's team meant another round of drinks and he was beginning to feel both the alcohol and the temper he was supposed to be out soothing.

Feliciano didn't like sports-bars, but what was not to enjoy? He barely paid attention to sports unless it was on an international level, and Ludwig had gone through at least ten different kinds of beer before just giving up on finding one his partner would do anything more than just tolerate. If they went out then it had to be something they were out doing, which was okay, but they could never just stay in one place for more than an hour: Feliciano would get bored and fidgety and start talking about things in the area- a park they could walk through or a different bar down the lane.

What was so wrong about just spending the evening in one damn bar with a tab and watching a whole game with friends and strangers? So what if there was a statue across the street or a buckster doing tricks on the corner? Sit. Relax. Have a beer. Not every day had to be an adventure.

Ludwig finished his fourth beer and found himself switching to something a little smaller, and a little sweeter on his tongue. So what if he got drunk? He was with his brother who was… somewhere, in the cheering crowd, and he wasn't in the kind of place where he could get into trouble of he drank too much: maybe embarrass himself, but Ludwig was pretty sure he was already too far gone to worry, because he just didn't care.

Another drink?

Gilbert was paying.

Six drinks and counting.

Yes because getting drunk is a good way to end the day when you're mad Ludwig good plan what a thinker you are gold star.

Leave a comment below and I'll see you soon!