Salvatorio- Seborga

Janus - Rome

First proper chapter, as I like to say. Hope you like it!

Also to emulate the original excitement for writing this, I've started listening to the character songs again, like I did when I first got into the fandom because they SLAPPED, so I'm feeling all weird and nostalgic.

Janus had long given up on screaming himself hoarse to wake his grandchildren. Not every single morning. It was just impossible. Prying all three of them out of sleep was like trying to to hold mud, so he just settled for standing by the stairs, banging pots and pans together until the boys had no choice but to get up, along with half the street. It was a miracle that no one had phoned the police on them yet.

Lovino winced at the sound, giving himself ten seconds to stare at the ceiling, outraged at being awake, then hauled himself into a sitting position. His little brothers were already dragging themselves out of the room, yawning and rubbing their eyes. "I'm up!" he called back, and the banging stopped. Finally, one second of silence, then his brothers started calling out their breakfast requests and accusing each other of stealing their school supplies.

That was the one good thing about their tiny living quarters. You didn't even have to yell that loud to talk to anyone in the house. It also meant that secrets were never kept for long, which suited his nosy, gossipy family just fine. And it certainly didn't hurt the Empire to know what everyone was doing. Or saying. Sometimes, Lovino had to wonder if the house itself was bugged, but they'd had no proof of it yet, and it wasn't like it would be hard to listen in on their conversations. No Vargas had an indoor voice, though their grandfather was trying his hardest to train them to talk quietly. Or... quieter. He wasn't going to test his hypothesis by being an idiot.

It was a dangerous world, especially for someone as careless and naive as his little brothers. But this was old news.

Lovino sat, rubbing his shoulder; all he wanted was to remember his dream. It had dissolved the moment he woke up, and now it was frustrating him. He recalled a numb sense of terror, being trapped and suspended. He couldn't recover any detail from the sludge in his mind, but the leftover fear made him uneasy.

He took a deep, slow breath, looking around his room. It was one he shared with his brothers, most of the floor space taken up by three rickety, old beds. Whenever one of the boys turned at night, their irons bars would rattle and bang. The rest of the room had an old wardrobe and a shelf of schoolbooks, and not much else. It had a window with a view of their tiny garden and the house opposite. The carpet was dark green and trodden down so much it was like plastic.

What was that stupid dream?

It didn't matter, anyway. He dragged himself out of bed and got dressed, ready for the coming heatwave. Things got unbearably hot by late morning, with barely any air circulating. His shorts were looking frayed and the colour in his shirt was starting to fade. Maybe when Grandpa Janus next got paid, he could get some new clothes and dump the old ones on Feliciano. Poor Sal never got new clothes, but he did get to be the doted-on baby of the family, so there was that.

It didn't take long to travel from one end of their terraced, two-bedroom house to the other. The building was largely metal and rather thin in places, like the rest of the city. Iron, to be precise, rusted and ugly brown. Wood and plaster were also used in places to keep the thing together. Living in an iron building was the sign of the lower class, the common workers, poor but not living in scrap metal shacks, like the Disgraced. It wasn't ideal, but they weren't the worst-off in the city.

The richer a family was, the nicer materials their house was made out of, up to the Grand Palace in the centre of the city. The lavish building housed the Emperor and his family, built from gold and platinum and jewels, whatever valuable materials were around 200 years ago, after the first Emperor took over. He'd called himself Emperor of all Eurasia, but no one actually knew what was beyond the city walls. Or how far the land stretched in any direction. Or if there were other people, supposedly under the Emperor's rule but not knowing he existed. Was the city all there was of humanity?

Not that it mattered.

He pushed all thought of the Empire aside as he entered the main room. It was by far the biggest room in the house, but still cramped. A battered old dining table took up half the space, the other half a sitting area the family squeezed themselves into at the end of the day to talk and watch TV. Lovino and his brothers would cram onto the sofa whilst Grandpa Janus took the armchair, sketching and writing poetry that would make anyone blush. Grandpa kept his little notebook hidden, and Lovino was not going to make the mistake of looking through it again.

Feliciano and Salvatorio were already halfway through breakfast, Feliciano completing some last minute homework. He scribbled out his notes with one hand, jam roll in the other. Salvatorio was reading from a textbook propped up against the milk, combing his hair at the same time. "There you are, my little Lovino!" exclaimed Grandpa Janus, sat at the head of the table reading through the post. Messages here were burnt onto thin sheets of foil at a post office before being delivered. After being read and censored, if needed. "Good sleep?"

Lovino nodded to save telling a lie. He sat down and got eating, studying his grandfather. Janus Jupiter Vargas leaned back in his chair, his plate left untouched. The moment his eyes were off his grandsons, his smile was gone, replaced with a look of confusion. And worry. His brows were knotted together and he scratched his stubbly chin. "Since when did we get those things?" Lovino asked, nodding at the letter. It didn't look like a bill. There wasn't much in the way of burnt words; whoever it was had either written something innocuous, or chosen their words carefully.

"Huh? Oh, just a message from an uncle of yours," Grandpa Janus explained, "you remember Francis, right?"

"Francis… Francis… The overly affectionate one?" asked Lovino.

"Yes, him!" Janus snapped his fingers, breaking into a grin, "so you do remember him, then?"

"I remember the whole family."

"Well, Francis seems to have run into a bit of trouble, he doesn't say what, probably can't through written communications, but it seems we'll have to make room for six new arrivals."

Lovino dropped his roll. "What?"

"Francis has… recently lost his home," explained Grandpa Janus, "this letter, it's a plea to let them stay, otherwise they'll be homeless, living in a shack." Disgraced. What had he done?

"So, technically, not homeless."

Grandpa Janus flicked his ear. "They will be here this afternoon."

"But we're all on top of each other as it is and there's only four of us!"

"I'm sorry Lovi," sighed Grandpa Janus, "but they're family." An illegitimate child. Two, of many, in fact, Francis and Céline. But Lovino knew Grandpa Janus loved them all, and would do anything for his children and grandchildren. "We can make things work. The four oldest have jobs and the youngest have school, so they won't be around all the time."

"Only in the evenings when we're all together."

"Well, get used to it. My word is final, and I will not see my family suffer such an indignity." He banged his fist on the table. "I would do the same for any of you. And besides, it'll be fun! We'll all be cosy together!"

"I know, I know," growled Lovino, "I'm not saying kick them out, I wouldn't want that. Just, we'll be cramped;" it wasn't like he had any space or privacy in this house to begin with.

"Um, Grandpa," said Salvatorio, "you said there were six people coming. I remember five. Francis, Céline, and their foster kids."

"Ah, Céline's also bringing her brother-in-law or something," said Grandpa Janus, skimming through the message one more time, "it wasn't too clear. Funny, though, they haven't mentioned her fiancé at all… Greg… Giovanni…"

"Gilbert. Maybe he ran off when he saw they were having problems," Lovino suggested.

Feliciano gasped; "what a horrible thing to do! How can anyone leave their fiancée? Does no one care about love anymore? And Céline is just the loveliest-!"

She wasn't. She was a shady bitch and Lovino thought she was the best.

"That's no way to treat a pretty girl!" exclaimed Salvatorio, "nor your brother."

"Now now boys," said Grandpa Janus, "we do not judge until we have the full story."

"Good!" said Salvatorio, "I refuse to believe he could do that." Lovino looked at him.

"Understood,' said Feliciano.

"So Lovi," said Grandpa Janus, done with the subject, "jobs. Where are we going to be looking today?"

Lovino tried to keep his sigh subtle. "I was thinking of trying a few restaurants. Local ones. Gotta be something, right?"

Grandpa Janus nodded.

"Look, if I get desperate, I can ask at some factory, right?"

"But is that what you want to do?"

"No. Probably not."

"Want me to ask around for you?"

"Nah, I'll be fine, but thanks anyway, Grandpa." Lovino gave a small smile at that, then found a renewed interest in his breakfast.

"You are trying, aren't you?" asked Grandpa Janus, placing a large, rough hand on his shoulder.

It was vital Lovino got a job, now he was an adult and no longer in school. He had until December to find employment, or he'd be breaking the law and receive an according punishment. A person wasn't allowed to be "workshy" in the city. Lovino hated that, even in July when he theoretically had time, people still looked at him like he was useless. Just some lazy kid who didn't want a job.

Even though they'd be right.

Sort of.

Lovino wanted a job, but not one he wouldn't want to do for the rest of his life. But what did he want to do? Would he ever find out? What if he found out too late when all the jobs in that field were taken, or after he'd attached himself to one profession? It was a panic that mixed nicely with the panic of the looming deadline and just what would happen if he couldn't find a job.

"Of course I am," he assured his grandpa. He still had plenty of time; so no need to worry. Right? At least, if he pretended nothing was wrong, he could pretend he wasn't panicking too.

"Good… good…"

"Well, I'll just get started on that. Might be my lucky day." Lovino said goodbye to his family and strolled out the door.

The street where they lived was messy and narrow, just a dull iron road bordered by tiny terraced houses. No gardens, no decorations, just rubbish strewn everywhere and dull-eyed adults on their way to work. That would be him too, eventually. Hopefully.

He started jogging down the street, greeting a few women cheerily, but ignoring most people. He reached the end of the lane and took a right turn, slower now and keeping his head down. He put on a blank expression and tried to avoid catching the eyes of the small group of police, standing around and cracking jokes. Another turning, and Lovino found himself in a small side street, a shortcut.

He could always find a job another day.

Writing the Vargas family is really weird to me, since Seborga's the only Italian brother I've really used in a fic since this one. And it is throwing me, but I also feel a little more confident in writing characters in general and I'll probably get a grip on them and a general idea of how they would act soon enough.