A week had passed since the Auto-De-Fe'. It had been a strange week, too. Lovino could feel his life changing, but he wasn't sure if this was a good or bad sort of change.

Antonio had come to the bakery twice during the week, and he had promised to come today.

He had eaten dinner with the Vargas family for the first time after the Auto, and nothing made him more nervous than doing so. Grandpa Roma was an intimidating man. Even more so when he was in his own home. Like a territorial animal. He was suspicious towards the Spaniard, but if Lovino trusted him, he trusted him, too. Because he trusted Lovino. Lovino wouldn't have let the man into his life if there wasn't something magnificent about him.

So the dinner had gone well. It was short and sweet. Lovino seemed embarrassed of his family at times, blushing occasionally, turning into a tomato doppelganger. Grandpa Roma had told stories of Italy for the last half of the dinner. While these stories were told, Lovino's lips would twitch up, his eyes would lighten, and pleasant humming noises escaped his throat. Antonio could hardly pay attention to the older man's words. He wanted to focus on the beautiful little Italian to his left.

He had actually tried once to gaze upon Lovino, and he must have been too obvious with his feelings, because the look Roma had given him made him shrink down in his seat. The man must have known what he felt for Lovino. He was smart, just like his grandson.

Alright, so the dinner might have had a few issues. But to be included into Lovino's life was an amazing feeling.

Antonio thought all of this over as he pushed the door to the bakery open. It smelled incredible. Like cloves and cinnamon. It was intoxicating how much it reminded him of Lovino.

Lovino was standing behind the counter kneading dough. He had a light blue rag tied around his head to keep his hairs away from all of the food he was carefully preparing. His eyes were concentrating on the dough, but somewhere behind the golden irises, there was some sort of dream playing itself out. Antonio grinned and set his sword down. "Lovi!"

Lovino continued kneading the dough. "I need to talk to you, bastard. I haven't thought about it so much, I guess I've just been pushing it out or something. But I can't just pretend that something isn't bothering me."

Antonio's throat went dry. He held his breath and said, "What is it?" He had found out. He had figured out that the was an aide to one of the Inquisitor's. Wait, no, that wasn't right. He would be much more frightened if that were the case. Antonio calmed down, though he was still nervously rubbing his hands together.

"I think it's pretty damn funny how quickly you got to me at the Auto. I didn't think you'd be around that part of Barcelona. And you left me a note that said you were busy or something like that. But you were right there," Lovino said.

Antonio smiled a shaky smile. "Yes? And you're wondering how I got there?"

Lovino nodded and stoked the fire in the oven. Antonio wrung his wrists. "Well, I remembered I had left my coat with you. And I headed back to the bakery to get it, but I saw a large crowd, and I know what an Auto looks like. I've been to an Auto. Just once, though, years ago." Lie. "I spotted you in the crowd, and I went and grabbed you before you could have yelled anything. You looked like you were about to yell, I mean."

Lovino didn't nod this time. He turned to face the Spaniard. He looked angry and flushed. Antonio waited for him to yell at him, but it didn't happen. He spoke softly. "Bastard, I wanted to talk to you about what you saw. You saw me . . . crying."

Antonio nodded, curious as to where this was going. Lovino was hoping he wouldn't have to say anything more for the bastard to see where he was going with this, but of course, he did. "Bastard, come with me." Lovino threw his apron off and headed into the house, leaving the bakery unattended. Lovino headed upstairs to his bedroom. He wasn't sure if that bastard was following him. He sat on his bed, facing the window. The sky was a light blue today, Lovino noticed.

There was a muffled cough behind him. So the bastard had followed. Good.

"Bastard, listen. You saw me crying. I was crying for that couple. I was crying for . . . for Jews. I was going to yell out for them but you stopped me. And I realized that I could have been denounced as a heretic. As a Jew. And you knew that, too. You could have denounced me." Lovino turned to face Antonio, his eyes squinted and his lips turned up into a pout. His eyes were glossed over and distant. He began to stand, but his knees shook. Not much, just enough for Antonio to notice.

He leaned into the taller man and awkwardly rested a hand on his bicep. It was supposed to be comforting, Antonio guessed. "I trust you, bastard." Lovino looked down at his shoes. "And you know. I know you know."

Antonio's eyebrows furrowed. Was he talking about . . . ? Antonio turned white. He simply nodded and looked away. Lovino opened a drawer on a table in the corner of the room and pulled out a small, golden chain. He tossed it between his palms, looking at the emblem on the golden strand. He held it out to Antonio, who opened his gloved hand hesitantly.

The quiet sound of metal hitting metal. That was all he could hear. Antonio's fingers shook as he uncurled them to look at the necklace in his palm.

His stomach lurched. It was a shining star. The Star of David. Antonio held it by the chain. The little star swung around in small circles, glistening in the sunlight, showing off its sharp little arms.

Lovino sat on the bed again. He had never told anyone what he was telling him, but if he couldn't trust Antonio, he couldn't trust anyone. "It isn't a big deal though, bastard. It doesn't actually matter. I'm not really religious, anyways. I just have that necklace from when I was younger. It's pretty fucking tacky if you ask me." Lovino was playing cool, but Antonio knew he was afraid.

"Lovi, thank you for telling me. And yes, I did know." Antonio sat next to Lovino on the bed. "Here." He opened his hand and waited for Lovino to take the necklace back, but Lovino looked away.

"I don't want it. I want you to have it. Keep it. Sell it. Melt it. I don't care. I don't want it, though," Lovino mumbled. Antonio looked at the little necklace once more before putting it in his pocket. He wouldn't sell it. Not for the world.

He smiled at Lovino, trying to forget what really just happened. He leaned into the Italian and kissed him on the jaw. Lovino scoffed and crossed his arms, but he didn't push Antonio away, and that was good enough. "Lovi, you trust me?"

Lovino blushed. "Shut the fuck up, bastard." Antonio stood up and walked towards the door. Lovino looked away, thankful that the blush on his cheeks was fading.

"Yeah, get out of here already, bast- ugh!" Antonio scooped Lovino up and held him bridal style. He buried his face into the crook of Lovino's neck, just like he had wanted to for the past two weeks. His neck was faintly damp and very warm.

"Lovi, you're so warm here," he said. He placed light, feathery kisses along the veins tracing Lovino's neck. Lovino's body visibly weakened. He made those little humming noises that he had made at dinner a week before. Lovino wanted to stay like this forever. In Antonio's arms. Being kissed over and over again. Getting to feel the lukewarm, soft gushes of air that Antonio breathed out. Yeah, he could stay like that for the rest of his life. But he couldn't. At least, not today.

"Hey, b-bastard, I have to get back to work." Antonio set Lovino on the bed again.

"Lovino, I have something for you, querido." Antonio hands fumbled with something on the back of his neck. Finally, he held out a little silver chain with it's own emblem dangling from the center. He kissed the emblem once, softly, then dropped it into Lovino's hands. Lovino looked down at the little emblem. It was a gleaming cross. It was a very beautiful cross, too. Lovino ran the tips of his fingers over it. It was warm from being pressed to the Spaniards chest.

"Antonio this is . . . I mean, bastard, this is pretty okay, I guess. Thanks. But I'm not a damn Christian." Antonio's stomach lurched again at the reminder, but he smiled nonetheless.

"That's okay, Lovi, I just wanted you to have something to remember m-"

The door slammed open. "Looooviiiiiii!"

Of course. Feliciano had to come in now. Lovino gritted his teeth, almost growling at his fratello to get the fuck out.

"Fratello, I need to wash up before dinner. And you need to go down to the bakery. I've been working for twenty minutes now because you left! Oh, ciao, Antonio!" Feliciano smiled brightly at Antonio, who returned the smile and waved back casually. Lovino's jealousy was getting the best of him. He grumbled to himself as he pushed Antonio out of the room and followed him downstairs.

Feliciano smiled to himself and began to take off his apron.

.

The window could have been cleaner. Whoever cleaned this house did an awful job. But he supposed it didn't really matter. It served well it's purpose. This is where Augustine had told him to go, and he wasn't one to argue.

He crossed his arms after opening his window a crack. Now Vargas looked pissed about something, as he had before, and Carriedo was walking towards the door.

Carriedo was behind Vargas, though Vargas didn't notice. He raised an eyebrow when Carriedo lifted up Vargas. So that was his act. Carriedo pretended to be a homosexual to gain the trust of Vargas. Good plan, though he personally wouldn't have gone through with it.

Carriedo sat Vargas down after he whined about something. Carriedo gave him something. A necklace. Most likely a cross, from what he knew about Carriedo. He watched closer. They were talking. But the doorknob was moving. Someone slammed the door open and stepped in. Klein Vargas. Klein Vargas grinned widely. He could see the grin from here. That was strange.

Jews didn't feel real happiness. Only pride over their crimes. The boy had probably stolen from some Christian woman or something filthy like that. Disgusting. He had heard that the Jews here would kill little Christian children and eat them. He thought that was far-fetched, but again, he wasn't one to argue.

Klein Vargas was still smiling as Carriedo and Vargas walked out.

That was it. He had the evidence. He had seen everything and knew that this was a Jewish family. He smiled to himself as he remembered the prize waiting for him. They were paying him a hefty sum to get the evidence on this family. He was surprised Carriedo hadn't gotten the evidence sooner.

Klein Vargas was taking off his apron and smiling at himself in the mirror. He turned from the window. He didn't need to look anymore.

But there was always more evidence. Better evidence. And he was looking at Klein Vargas again, who was unbuttoning his shirt.

Evidence, always more evidence, Ludwig thought to himself.

To Be Continued . . . .

Note: "Klein" means "little". So when you read Klein Vargas, it is Little Vargas or Mini Vargas.