Written in the Stars, Decision of the Loved, Mi Mancherai, Credits.

TGB is formatted like a hurricane: Two walls of emotional conflict, and one calming high hovering in the middle. We're nearly through the first wall, so let's keep going!

The Gay Brother

A Little Taste of Happiness and Hope

What was he supposed to do? Really, what were his options?

Feliciano laid in bed for at least four more hours. He slept for some of it, hung-over and physically drained, but the rest was just his glassy eyes watching the sun creep across the walls as he hovered in the numb static of disbelief.

It wasn't possible.

Arousal wasn't hard to stimulate, intimacy was addicting and something Feliciano knew he craved, but those two things didn't equal what had happened last night- they didn't automatically change into what he sort of half remembered going through.

Gay.

Homosexual.

Not-straight.

Not attracted to women.

Attracted to men.

Men like Ludwig: tall and with a wide frame, tough muscle under smooth skin and the downy brush of blonde hair over his corded arms and down the backs of his thick fingers. Straight, narrow hips, rigid things that only moved with the rest of his back and usually took their place above Feliciano's on the bed.

God he was strong, not overwhelming but so firm and so comfortable in his own skin that there was unbroken confidence buried under all the little insecurities of the day: what his boss meant about this, what the neighbours thought about that, if the city was changing policies in their area. Ludwig knew how to fret about hair in the shower drain and whether the dog collars were hung up or left in knots at the end of the day, he was a train-wreck when faced with the possibility of hosting guests at their home.

But despite his little melt-downs and his vicious, constricting hold on the household's routine, Ludwig still knew who Ludwig Beilschmidt was. He didn't waffle and whine about his and Gilbert's relationship now that it was so altered, he made absolutely no secret of 'lovers' duties' to Feliciano in terms of anniversary dates and which restaurant to go to or how to spend a long weekend. He wasn't the most suave or charismatic of people, but his bluntness came from confidence.

It took an overbearing river of self-confidence to take Feliciano's car keys, or to attack the systems and beliefs of his corrupted little family to his face.

But those were the kinds of sour thoughts that made him stare straight at the bright yellow panels of sun scoring the glass walls. He wanted the temporary blindness, the burn of tears that eased into white blurs and the numbness over his bare skin as it tingled with marks of betrayal.

Alice must have left as soon as they'd finished. She'd left no clothes behind: he'd checked. His memory would have been clearer if she'd tried to tangle around him and hold on, to cling with skin against skin like they used to when they'd been lovers sneaking behind her father's back and trying to stay out of trouble with his mother.

Gay men were not attracted to women. A beautiful woman was still beautiful no matter who you went home to, but there wasn't supposed to be any whisper of 'can you imagine?' because no, there wasn't supposed to be anything to fantasize about. Women were nicer to look at than men, even three years into their relationship Feliciano had always known that if they were people-watching, his lover would be watching the men in suits and fitted trousers while Feliciano's eyes followed the brilliant colours and movement of long hair in curls or styled into short spikes.

He knew an attractive man when he saw one, he understood what he liked: someone taller than him, square shoulders. Long arms and heavy hands, not boney or knobby with large knuckles and skinny bones: thick and full and strong, maybe decorated with a wide ring on the thumb or middle finger. Necks where the cords defined the hollow of the Adam's apple, and as far as magazine covers went: a happy trail flanked by muscular hips would catch his attention long before he'd think about the model's hair colour or how much hair was left on his chest.

Men's knees were not appealing to him, the lines of the calve and ankle rarely met up the way they would in sculpture or anatomy texts. Good shoes and the fine cut of stylish pants were better: Ludwig looked ridiculous in those awful lederhosen he always wore every year for Oktoberfest.

But women's knees? Well, not the knees themselves, but the slope of full thighs under the sheer gloss of nylon and ending in the arches and bends of bright shoes, the slide of soft skin vanishing up the hem of her dress or the cuff of her shorts. Even in trousers or cut-off summer pants, women with straight bodies and tiny breasts who announced themselves with colour and thick glasses. Heavy women with gloss dripping from full and luscious lips, eyes dusted with ochre and amethyst and smooth arms glittering with silver bangles and short, curved fingers capped with lacquered art.

Women were just more fun to look at. Men were for sculpting; women for painting. Men's hands that were so strong like the clay that resisted when pressed and molded, bodies with strong bone and firm muscle whether the subject himself was heavy and square or gangly and tall. It was worth it to get close enough to a man so that even his voice left a physical touch on flushed skin. And women who were colour and movement like a brush soaked in paint and dancing down the canvas. Laughter dancing behind starlit eyes and the temptation to lean in close and breathe in the sweet and the spice and the musk of enchantment.

Alice was so feminine he couldn't find a single trait she shared with Ludwig. And Ludwig was so stiff and unyielding that there was no way to compromise his strength and her grace. It wasn't possible, it didn't make sense.

There was no physical way to mistake one body for the other. Even if he drank the winery dry he'd still be able to tell the difference. Just the way their skin felt…

It was a clash of tastes and aesthetics to have one and reminisce about the other: it didn't work. It wasn't right.

It was so wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong! Morally, spiritually, ethically: wrong! He was gay, he was gay: he lived with a man, he left his family for a man. He kissed him, he touched him, he loved him! Sodomy and condemnation and stereotypes and pseudo-science: he'd been faced with it and Ludwig had helped him overcome it! He'd faced down the threat of excommunication and he'd come out of it with his faith and his career and his relationship in tact: this was wrong!

He could not love a man and then lay with a woman, he couldn't; it wasn't real! He was hallucinating, he was mistaken! The marks on his skin and the ache in his hips were false and the broken memories fogged by wine and anger couldn't tell him the truth.

So he didn't move, he didn't have the strength for anything beyond the endless spiral of dark thoughts and harsh rebellion. Some spark of sense told him that he wouldn't find a scrap of peace until he spoke to her, but the pit of his stomach set itself on fire just thinking about it. No, how could he possibly do that?

Feliciano almost missed the knock on the sun room door. He just kept laying there with the blankets tossed half-way up his back. Whoever it was knocked again, soft and hesitant in a way that made fear bite him: she couldn't have come back!

He sat up faster than he thought he could and immediately pulled at the sheets looking for his shirt. He yanked it on over his head again and barely heard the latch click and one of the hinges groan a little. The door moved less than an inch, and the voice behind it confused him.

"Hey…" He really hadn't thought Lovino would come talk to him first. "Can I come in?"

"If you want to." And clearly he did, because the door swung open properly and Lovino slunk inside as Feliciano's heart slowly began to calm down and settle back in his chest. Lovino was still wearing the same black slacks and blue shirt from the night before, the top layer open with a white undershirt covering his chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and trousers hopelessly wrinkled. It was obvious he hadn't showered or shaved yet either, his brother scratching at the growth along his jaw as he pushed the door shut again and stood there. When he started rubbing his upper lip without saying anything, Feliciano just sat up a little more with his legs crossed on the bed and waited. Anything was better than his own thoughts right now.

"I…" Lovino's voice was gruff and caught in the back of his throat. His eyes were down, staring at the tangled bedsheets and obviously not understanding what he was looking at. "I treated you like shit." He didn't… know what he was supposed to say. "I treated everyone, I just… I'm…"

"You can say you're sorry." Maybe Feliciano helped by speaking up, at least it got Lovino to look at him properly. "I'll probably forgive you."

"What you did last night…" He was looking but he wasn't speaking clearly, and when Feliciano saw his brother's mouth quiver and then fold down into a twisted line, it hurt him. "The things you said- the way you said them, I-" Lovino started going faster and suddenly the words were just a blur: "You're a better fucking man than I am but you're the one we all take the shit out of. Why? Because you're some faggot, like that's really the most important thing about you; it's who you fuck and who you fucking live with. And I don't know why I ever gave a shit about it. I hate it and I don't like him and I'm never going to fucking like him, Feliciano, but he makes you happy and- and that…" Lovino looked like he was scaring himself with his own words, stumbling again when Feliciano tried getting his legs off the bed so he could stand up. By the time he found his feet, his brother found his words and a few harsh tears that cut down his face.

"And that's more than the rest of us can say." They hugged, and it was what they both needed just as much as Lovino had to finish his confession. Hands grasping and arms twisted tight, it almost hurt to hold on this hard but Feliciano didn't want to let go. "I know you're going through shit with him and I know I made it worse by making you come home, but he made you happy when your fucking family just- we used you and I- I…"

Lovino stopped clutching and suddenly he was pushing Feliciano back. He was so shocked he found his hands grabbing at his brother's wrists trying to hold on, terrified until Lovino grabbed him with both his good and injured hands, holding hard to his shoulders until his face twisted with pain and Feliciano grabbed the wrist to his cut-up hand and squeezed to make him let go. It didn't work.

"Isabella knows about you." Lovino was still crying, and it was terrible watching his older brother stand there and weep. "She knows and Chiara doesn't: it's an excuse, it's a fucking excuse and I just kept using it!"

"Then tell her." It was the first thing Feliciano remembered how to say. "She's your wife, and she has to find out eventually. If you tell her then I'll finally be able to say it to Carlino: they need to know."

Lovino was nodding, but then something in his desperate face tightened up and he gritted his teeth together, jaws locked as he shook his head.

"What if she hates you again?" His cries were under control now, voice going quiet even though it hadn't gone much higher than normal. "After last night: what you did, what you said and how you helped us. She sent me in here to tell you to take your stuff upstairs as soon as Carlino gets up." Which meant he was forgiven. It wasn't going to last longer than Alice saying something or the two of them letting something slip, but for one morning at least, Feliciano wasn't going to be hounded and hated in this house. "It's my fault, Feliciano, this is my mess but I can't fight with them. If I break Chiara's trust again then that's it: she'll leave me."

"You fought in the car last night?"

"We argued, we didn't fight." There was something Lovino wasn't saying when his eyes faded and he just stared past Feliciano's shoulder for a moment. Instead of having to prod him, his brother filled the silence with a reason: "We fought at the hospital, in front of the cops."

"She called the police?"

"No, I did." He wanted to say he didn't understand, but it was a regretful lie. "You're not old enough to remember, but Mama would find any reason not to tell the nurses or the officers anything. Chiara was against it, but when the nurses took me to look at my hand, I called it in." Which would count as a breach of trust, Lovino had made a decision for both of them after Chiara had been so adamant that they would sort things out on their own. Feliciano understood. "They took pictures, they have your number too since you were there."

"You have a record now…"

"Battery." Lovino let go of him, rubbing his face with his good hand and showing how exhausted he was. The word just fell out of him, but when he pushed his hair back and let out a breath, he looked tired, not angry. "We're meeting with our lawyers tomorrow, and I need to talk to Mario about my stake in the restaurant."

"What?" What lawyers? Why? "You can't get a divorce!"

"We aren't, but…" But what?

There was a chair in this room, piled up with boxes and holding an old blanket Feliciano hadn't touched in the heat. Lovino shuffled some of the debris onto the floor and sank down onto the old wood and threadbare cushion, Feliciano mimicking him by finding the bed again and just sitting there with his elbows on his knees, waiting while his brother wove his fingers together and decided to keep talking.

"Last night was one time. It's over now: done, finished." Feliciano could agree with that, but Lovino's breaths were rough as he explained. "But if it happens again then that's a trend."

"It won't happen again." It was hard enough to believe that it had happened once already, but his brother just shook his head.

"No it won't, but if it does…" Watching Lovino pull his lips into his mouth and bite them for a moment didn't help the tension. But he wasn't squirming in his seat or trying to shut down the topic: he was the one pushing through it and it said how much he wanted Feliciano to know this. "I won't let myself turn out like him. If Chiara takes two police reports to our lawyers then- then my investments in the winery will transfer to her name and my share of the restaurant will go to Carlino."

He said it in a rush, the words tripping over each other to get out and Feliciano tried to pick them up as they fell. They were harsh and rude things to imagine, the way his brother broke down his income into two main branches that he'd sheer off and discard. There was a giant if hovering over the announcement, the great big possibility that didn't have to become a reality, but if it did then the consequences would be devastating.

"You'd divorce her?"

"Maybe not right away, but… I won't do it." He wouldn't hit her again, or he wouldn't let himself be forgiven? It didn't really matter which one he meant, Feliciano understood the weight behind both options: he could see it crushing Lovino down and crumpling him until he was half the size Feliciano'd once remembered him being.

"If…" But he wasn't finished speaking, not quite yet. "If I asked you sign the papers as a witness, Feliciano, would you do it?"

"Oh… Vino, that…" A third signature, someone to guarantee that his brother was making this contract willingly? What would he do if they actually arrived at the horrifying moment where Feliciano had to help the rest of them tear Lovino apart? He hadn't been able to do it last night when there had been no money or titles on the line, so adding all of that to things just…

"I can't ask Carlino to do it: he'd refuse as soon as I mention handing him the restaurant." If Feliciano's stomach dropped at the thought then he didn't want to think of what their little brother would do. "And after last night I can't go to Mario or Benedict. They'd eat me alive: I can't face them."

"You have to face them tonight at Grandma's party, don't you?" Lovino groaned loudly as soon as he said the words, slouching in his chair and bringing both hands up to his face again to cover it.

"I have to go to the restaurant, I have to call the lawyers, I have to do all this shit that there's no time for. Can you imagine the rumours if Chichi and I don't show up for her birthday? It'd be worse than you not coming!"

"Oh- I'm not going to that." Lovino parted his hands and hit him with a hard look he had no right to wear right now.

"Yes you are."

"Absolutely not! But I bought a gift for her so at least you can take that-"

"My mother-in-law will drag you."

"She can try, Lovino." He broke up one little fight and now he had to worry about Mrs. Valenti taking him by the ear until he left? "I'm not even allowed to go to the Pinwheel for lunch, and if you think you can argue with Grandpa about anything after last night, you're wrong."

"Carlino will speak up if that happens."

"Then you'd better stop him!"

"With what!?" They weren't shouting, just speaking loudly as Lovino dropped his hands and showed both palms to him, gesturing with shoulders tight trying to show how powerless he was supposed to be. "What makes you think he'll listen to a word I say now?"

"If he's still as mad as he was last night then don't bother talking to him: just tie him up and lock him in the wine cellar!"

"Oh that will fucking help!"

"I don't know!" Or maybe they were shouting, but at least it wasn't from anger. "If you don't go then your reputation is dead; if I don't go then Carlino will pick a fight; if none of us go then we'll all be in hell for hurting her and we won't have solved anything!"

"Then we all go! And that's the end of it!"

"Fine…!"

He did not want to give in over this, but agreeing with one harsh word it was the only way that summed everything up as he flung his arms up over his head, covered his eyes, and fell back on the bed to kick and groan at the awful decision.

How dare Lovino laugh at him, even if it was just one throaty little snort in the back of his nose.

"Get up and get dressed, idiot."

With one hand reaching up along the bed, Feliciano grabbed the corner of one of the pillows and flung it hard at his brother's chair. There was another muted laugh that dove under Feliciano's rebuttal:

"Go talk to your wife, jerk."

Lovino caught and didn't throw the pillow back, Felicaino half sat-up but then ended up tipping back over to rest staring at the steel roof of the sun room. They both just stayed like that for a few more minutes, enjoying an easy silence that had been in danger last night of disappearing forever. There were guilty feelings trying to soak through the mattress under him, but Feliciano closed his eyes and let his mind wander back over what had already been said. Alice, he decided, would have to wait.

Not too long, but just long enough for him to make sense of his brothers and try to keep them from sinking when the water rose up again to claim him.

"Where are they!?" It was a far-away voice through the walls and door that reminded Feliciano that he was supposed to be moving, Lovino's chair creaking a little bit as he shifted his weight like he might stand. They didn't move, and maybe that was a mistake.

There was a sudden, loud rapping sound on the door and then Chiara's voice called out to both of them.

"Hurry up in there! Your breakfast is getting cold!" she didn't open the door and burst in on them, and there was the ratchet of loud, fast footsteps that meant she left as soon as she gave her warning, but it still worked to get Feliciano to sit up properly again, running one hand through his hair and wincing a little as he sat up right in a beam of bright light.

"Should we go?" He asked.

"Probably." Lovino put on a funny look when he answered, chewing the inside of his cheek for a moment as he looked at the door, still holding the pillow Feliciano'd thrown in his lap, dark hands filled with downy grey fabric. "She said she had something to tell me this morning, but then sent me in here instead."

Leaving the sun room meant crossing the safe line marking where Feliciano knew Alice would not tread, and where she could be at any moment. It was hard not to hesitate as he followed his brother out into the narrow hall and then they wandered towards the sound of food and conversation.

"Were you drinking last night? What's the matter with you!" Chiara was still talking when they arrived in the dining room, standing over a mound that looked suspiciously like the blanket Feliciano had left over his brother and sister-in-law earlier that same morning while they were sleeping. The blanket was doubled over the side of the table, a pale set of fingertips clutching the edge of it where several locks of red hair were poking out and catching the early light.

Carlino made a grumbling noise like he was in pain, pulled his blanket a little tighter, and touched his covered face to the table. His shoulders were wiggling a little under the blanket just trying to work more of the material up his back so he could cover his face better.

"Chichi, stop yelling at him: he's fine." Fine was a relative term, but Mrs. Valenti was sitting across the table from Feliciano's lump of a brother, a small cup of espresso in her hand that added to the aroma of fresh eggs and herbs coming from further back in the kitchen. Feliciano's hostess was still wearing the skirt and black shirt from last night, now with a housecoat overtop, but she didn't seem concerned when they entered the room.

"He's just a boy, how could you make him drink like that, Mama?"

"Better he feel sick here with family than out being crazy with strange foreign girls!" Another loud groan answered Mrs. Valenti's words, and Carlino's shoulders buckled when Chiara tried touching him again through the blanket.

"Sit up, you'll feel better once you eat something."

"I never want to see food again…" but Carlino did straighten up, slowly, grudgingly, and Feliciano bit his lips to keep the smile or tease from launching off his tongue. Feliciano couldn't remember him having that much last night, but drinking quickly when your temper was at its limit made the alcohol that much stronger. He couldn't afford to make any quips about Carlino's washed out skin or the dead grey painted under his bloodshot eyes, but it just proved that his brother didn't have any experience with heavy drinking.

"You work in a restaurant, Carlo." Lovino reminded him, their little brother wrapping his blanket tight around his own shoulders like he was cold, head hanging and green eyes half-focused and drifting back and forth between the two of them. Finally, the little one focused back on Lovino.

"I quit." And this time Feliciano laughed, taking the cold glare his brother shot at him before Carlino collapsed again and dropped his head down on the table. Mrs. Valenti was the one to chastise him until he sat up this time, the other two brothers slowly taking their seats: Lovino at the head of the table, Feliciano deciding he was better off sitting across from his little brother and between Lovino and his mother-in-law. It left two more empty chairs for the sisters, but before Feliciano could get caught up worrying about Alice, Chiara swept in with two more little ceramic cups of black espresso for him and her husband.

"Oh-"

"We could have-"

"Sit." Lovino was half-way to his feet, hands planted on the arms of his chair and about to hoist himself up all the way when Chiara's black eyes petrified him. Feliciano didn't see the look, but he was suddenly wary of the fact that his coffee might be poisoned. "It's fine, breakfast is ready."

"At least let me help carry-"

"Lovino, sit." There was absolutely no arguing with that tone of voice, and Lovino obediently dropped back into his seat. Chiara's tone was so sharp it hummed in the air, but there was something different about the sting now because instead of challenging her with a casual 'fine' or 'do what you like', Lovino looked like he'd been kicked as his wife marched out of the dining room back to the kitchen.

"How many times does she have to say something before you listen?" And, of course, even with Feliciano there as a physical buffer between them that didn't stop the fact that Chiara's mother was right there to scold Lovino even more. "Visit with your brother, he isn't going to be here much longer and you were off for most of it anyways."

Lovino's face looked hopeless, but Feliciano quietly agreed with that last point, especially since Lovino had brought it on himself.

Feliciano was just enjoying the first taste of his coffee when bare feet came padding across the living room and around the corner. He tried not to let his stomach fall all the way, but kept the hot edge of his cup against his lips so he didn't have to figure out what his face was doing.

"There you are!" And Mrs. Valenti was happy to keep scolding everyone in the house, so his silence was excused by her turning on Alice as soon as her daughter appeared. "Your sister's almost finished cooking, where have you been?"

"I… took a shower?" Not looking would be more conspicuous than drilling a hole in the table with his eyes, but with his first glance up all Feliciano saw was a long white tee-shirt and damp brandy locks in wild curls around her shoulders. If Alice stopped to look at him then they didn't make eye-contact, and Feliciano decided it was more important that he nudge Carlino's leg with his foot under the table.

Carlino kicked Lovino and frankly forcing them to go off on each other was a much better distraction.

"What the hell was that for!?"

"You know."

"I do not; I didn't do a damned thing!"

"Then sorry."

The exchange covered Alice moving around the table to get into the kitchen, Feliciano looking up when Chiara re-appeared with three plates of food balanced in her arms.

"I'll get the-"

"Alice sit down."

Lovino's plate was put down first, then Carlino's because he was closer, and Mrs. Valenti received the third one. All four of them at the table froze like someone had shouted stop when Chiara ordered her sister to sit. Lovino looked like someone had put a gun to his head for no reason, Carlino's head came half-way off the table, and Feliciano couldn't see what Alice's mother did because Alice herself was quick to talk back.

"Look, I'm sorry I took a little longer, but I-"

"I don't need help: sit down."

"Chichi-"

"I just want to make breakfast for my family: why is that so hard for everyone to understand! I do not need help to pour a damned cup of coffee now sit down and I'll bring you your food!"

Lovino silently mouthed 'It's not me?' as the yelling flared directly behind his chair, Feliciano trying to look anywhere that would help him pretend he hadn't just heard the stand-off or could see Alice standing there frozen as she was told off for nothing. He just shook his head a little once Chiara turned away to go back for the rest of the plates, as shocked as his brother that Chiara' short temper wasn't reserved especially for him.

"What did you do?" Carlino was the one to whisper the question as Alice took her seat next to him, Feliciano glancing at her quickly only to catch her giving him the same fast look. They both faced Lovino instead.

"I don't know: we were fine twenty minutes ago." That was all the time they had for whispering before Chiara came back with her sister's coffee and Feliciano's food, leaving one more time before bringing two last servings of eggs and sausage with tomato slices next to toasted bread and a bit of cheese. She was the only one who sat down without coffee, but maybe she didn't need the extra caffeine before sitting down at the other end of the table across from Lovino.

It wasn't comfortable. They were being scrutinized as forks clattered and gently scraped. The black coffee was a little too strong for Feliciano's tastes after being away from it for so long, but it felt like standing up to fetch sugar would just get him yelled at. He wasn't about to try and strike up a soft conversation of some kind with Alice if Chiara was going to spear him with harsh looks in-between hard stares at Carlino barely picking at his meal.

Alice's round face was irritated and she just sat there chewing and staring down at her plate to avoid looking at her sister or mother. Chiara was still wearing the exact same outfit of green from the church, only the orange hospital band missing from the dawn. Lovino looked like he had an ounce of his self-confidence back with the realization that he wasn't the only one breaking Chiara's delicate temper this morning. He actually ate a good portion of what was on his plate before he dared speak across the silent table.

"Chiara," Feliciano wanted to kick him for being so direct. "If we need to talk, we can go-"

"Not yet." Maybe Chiara wasn't staring at the plates making sure everyone was eating what she'd made, maybe it was just better than looking at their faces. "I don't want to talk about it." She said the words as fast as she could while barely opening her mouth.

"Eat something?" He had to hear his brother say it before he finally noticed that Chiara's plate was completely untouched. She was holding her fork, but she'd just been spinning it in her fingers without using it. As soon as Lovino drew attention to it, her hand released it with a clatter.

It felt like the rest of them should leave immediately, but watching Chiara's narrow shoulders rise and fall slowly with deep breaths, it was clear that they were trapped. Feliciano almost admired the way Lovino somehow navigated the cracked ice and found something worth saying.

"Just a little, you need your strength."

"I'm strong enough, thank you." Maybe they weren't the words Chiara wanted to hear from him, but they felt like they were still the right choice when her head snapped up and it was clear she couldn't see or hear the rest of them with Lovino sitting directly across the table. "I've already made my decision, I know exactly how things are going to go from now on and the only thing I don't know is you: are you going to stay, are you going to leave in the middle of the night and not come back? I don't know. Maybe you'll stay because you're scared of what your family will do to you or you don't think they'll tolerate you anymore so that's another reason to just leave."

"Chichi-" There was no anger or shock when Lovino said her name, maybe this was part of what they'd already argued about in the car on the way to Rieti, but it was like his temper had vanished at just the right time.

"And I don't know what these two are going to do." Feliciano really wished he'd just stayed in his room and not subjected himself to this. He thought he saw Carlino cower under his blanket a little bit again when they were both dragged into the discussion like props. "This one's barely a man and the other lives half a continent away. You think I'm going to rely on your uncles instead? Absolutely not."

"Uncles?" The only word Carlino heard.

"Chiara?" Alice found her voice too but Feliciano felt like he was lagging as far behind as Lovino, maybe further.

Definitely further, one look at Lovino's wide-eyed expression, lips parted and eyes unblinking, said Feliciano was still out in open water with everyone else racing towards land.

"I don't need your stupid family." Chiara's small hands were biting into the white table-cloth, her teeth locked and entire body rigid where she was clutching tightly to her pride and willing away whatever shakes were pretending to get in the way of her words. "I have my own. And I don't need your damned restaurant either; I'm a business woman in my own right! If you want to leave then fine! Leave! I won't let you blame me if your life doesn't turn out the way you wanted or my child isn't-"

Lovino left his seat so fast it almost fell over. Feliciano's ears registered the rest of Chiara's sentence: 'the son you wanted!' before he caught up all at once and heard Mrs. Valenti give a deep gasp next to him, both hands up over her mouth.

Lovino was on his feet but he didn't stay there for long, he grabbed the back of Alice's chair as he passed her and Carlino and used it to swing himself down onto his knees next to Chiara before reaching for her hands. Her face was going bright red and she'd stopped talking all at once, lips almost white where she was pinching them together with her eyes squinting against tears. She looked like she was choking trying not to make any noise as Lovino wrestled her hands around so he was holding both her wrists in his hands, begging her to turn and look at him.

"Chiara don't- don't play games with me, not about this." And he was truly begging. "Just tell me- amore please…" Lovino was begging when he kissed her hands and he didn't stop when Chiara's grip opened up. Instead of clawing him her fingers spread across his face and just kept touching, rolling back through his hair and cupping his cheeks and jaw, it was a tenderness that looked like it was calming them both until Feliciano saw her crying.

"It's mine." It was wrong to see Chiara cry, but she was still herself as she untangled her hands from Lovino's and pulled one arm over her stomach. There were tears coming down and her voice was thick from them, but the force behind her words was still there. "It's mine and it doesn't matter what you do because this is mine and I want it! So if you're going to leave then just leave because I don't want to hear any bullshit from you about- about how…"

Lovino pulled her to the floor with him. Feliciano had to stand up to see them and he couldn't hear what they were saying over Alice shrieking for Lovino to be careful with her. She even swatted him on the back of the head but Lovino either didn't feel it or didn't care. He had Chiara in his lap and both arms wrapped tight around her, his face down against her neck where she was holding his head close. He was rocking them back and forth gently, saying something impossible to hear over the sound of Carlino and Alice suddenly both laughing and turning around to hug each other.

Kisses and tender things that it felt wrong to witness passed quietly and quickly, Lovino kissing his wife's lips as he lifted her off the ground with him and stood up. He didn't know if she was still crying, but Lovino was holding her so tight that if he wasn't careful she'd break like glass.

"Go hug your mother," was all he said with another kiss on Chiara's forehead, nudging her away from him as Mrs. Valenti quickly moved around to scoop Chiara up next. Feliciano felt lost in the noise and overwhelmed enough that the happiness didn't even register right away. It took until Chiara left her mother behind and, of all things, came forward to hug him next that it suddenly clicked.

"Your door's always open, right?" Because Chiara's voice was hoarse from tears, softly remembering what he'd said last night in a dark church against two terrifying old men. Her arms were warm around his neck and they hung on tightly, almost clinging when this was a woman who didn't cling to anything.

His brother's wife was pregnant. His childhood friend was going to have a baby. There was going to be a new child in their family, and Feliciano was going to be an uncle.

An uncle.

The title that had meant more than father in his life, and he was going to carry it, to share it with Carlino who looked just as stunned with his arms around Lovino and his blanket abandoned on the floor. Feliciano just tightened his hold a little bit around Chiara's small frame and immediately understood why Lovino had clutched her so hard. Feliciano was going to be an uncle: Lovino was going to be a father.

"Sorella you don't even have to knock." He whispered back, his voice gone as his throat tightened up and a warmth he hadn't felt in weeks came roaring up in his chest. A tingling, dancing, joyful rush of pure pleasure and ease that singlehandedly wiped out every stress and struggle of his visit home. Because this was worth it, this moment meant everything. "God, bring seven babies with you; I'll find a bed for each of them!"

"Thank you…"

This moment meant the world.

"Go hug your sister: I think my brothers are stuck together!"

"Thank you…"

There. That was quite long but I refused to split another chapter where relatively little happened. Ideally this chapter was going to be the breakfast scene and the next scene, but it needed to rest a little on the whole hetero/homosexual theme, and then I had to find a way to pry Feliciano out of the bedroom.

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