Summer, 1942, A Small Italian Village

Lovino Vargas grumbled to himself as he waited outside of his grandfather's shop. Where was that stupid Spaniard anyway? He was supposed to be there by then anyway. He impatiently pushed his chocolate-colored bangs out of his rust-colored eyes as he cursed the sun for being so hot. It just had to be the hottest season that the man decided to come. Curse that Spanish bastard!

Then a man walked up to him. He was tall with curly, brown hair and tanned skin. His green eyes flashed with wonder and mystery and something else that Lovino couldn't identify. But it was right then and there that he knew. That was the man he and his grandfather had been waiting for.

"Salve," Lovino greeted, though it came out as more of a scoff than anything.

"Salve," the Spaniard cheerfully said back. "Parla inglese? Parlo inglese meglio che italiano."

Lovino blinked at him for a moment. "Of course we speak English here. It is becoming a more popular language, you know." He shook his head at the man. "Come inside." He opened the door to the shop and led the man inside, quickly flipping the sign from "Open" to "Closed" on his way in and locking the door after them.

"Antonio?" Roma Vargas asked, looking up from the front counter of the shop. He looked like an older Lovino, but much taller and more rough around the edges, as if he had been in many fights and won all of them.

"Roma Vargas, we meet at last," the Spaniard said, extending his hand toward the taller Italian man. "I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I assume this is one of the two grandsons you were always writing about?"

"That is correct," Roma proudly stated with a chuckle. "This is the elder of the two, Lovino. Say hello to him, Lovi."

"I'm not five," Lovino grumbled to his grandfather, glaring at him. He then fixed his glare onto Antonio. "I'm Lovino Vargas. Nice to meet you."

The Spaniard grinned widely. "My name is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo," he greeted. "It is an honor to meet any family of the great Roma Vargas! Your grandfather here is a hero, you know that?"

"I get it!" Lovino snapped, glare turning icy.

Antonio blinked in surprise and turned to Roma when Lovino walked to another part of the shop to busy himself with sweeping up for his grandfather. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked quietly.

"The war that I fought in, I fought alongside his father," Roma explained. "I was the only one who came home. His mother died while we were gone, leaving him and his brother alone with their grandmother, who passed just last year. Lovi and his brother have seen their fair share of tragedy."

"Where is his brother?" Antonio asked. "Is his brother all right?"

Roma nodded. "Some godforsaken voice in that boy's head told him to enlist in the army," he said, shaking his head. "I tried to stop him, but their grandmother and I always encouraged the boys to be free spirits." He sighed. "I pray for him every night."

Antonio frowned. "I will keep him in my prayers as well, Roma. Were he and Lovino close?"

"They are only a year apart in age," Roma said with a nod. "Whenever I was gone or anything, Lovino always looked after his brother as if it were his duty to do so. But now he can't ensure his brother's safety, and doesn't even have a guarantee that he'll even come home from this war. I know he's suffering silently, but there's nothing any of us can do for him until he's ready to talk."

Antonio nodded. "I kind of understand that," he said. "Though I am an only child, I was very close to some of my cousins when I was growing up. I would be very lost if any of them went off to war. Some of them were even upset about me coming here to do this job with you two."

"Oh no, I'm not the one doing it," Roma said, shaking his head. "I'm just working behind the scenes, telling you two where to scout out. The one you'll be working with is Lovino."

"It'll be just Lovino and me?" Antonio asked. He suddenly felt unsure, remembering Lovino's icy gaze on him. "But I'm not sure that he even likes me all that much.

"Don't take it too much to heart," Roma cheerfully said, clapping a hand onto Antonio's shoulder. "Our Lovi doesn't like anyone!"

.

"How long do I have to sit and talk to you?" Lovino asked, annoyed. He didn't want to be alone in this room with him, that stupid Spaniard. He would much rather be taking a nap or playing soccer alone or something else. Anything other than sitting with that stupid Spaniard with those green eyes that made him feel awkward and weird.

"Your grandfather wants us to get to know each other better is all," Antonio explained. "So go ahead. Ask me any questions. I'm an open book. Lay it on me."

"You have a weird accent," Lovino stated flatly. He sighed. "Fine. You want me to ask questions, I'll ask a question. Why did you come here all the way from Spain to save Italian artwork? Why would you risk so much for a country that's not even your country?"

"Because I'm passionate about the arts," Antonio answered as if he were answering a question as simple as "What is your favorite color?". He blinked at Lovino from across the table. "Artwork does not belong in the hands of the people who don't deserve to own it. This art deserves to stay in Italy, where it belongs."

"I agree with you there," Lovino said with a nod. "That's what we're going to do. We're going to make sure those lousy Germans don't get their nasty hands on it."

"But what about the men in the Italian military that are working with the Germans?" Antonio asked. "We will have to worry about them as well. Not all men feel the way we do about the artwork. Some of them consider the Germans our allies."

"I suppose you're referring to Feli," Lovino snarled at him.

"Feli?" Antonio asked.

"My brother," the Italian growled at him.

"I was referring to any Italian troop in general."

"Don't be playing stupid with me," Lovino barked at him. "You were indirectly talking about my brother! I heard my grandfather talking to you earlier today! Don't talk about Feliciano like you know him, because you don't! He would never side with the Germans on anything!" His face was red with rage as he stood up. "You don't know a thing about my brother!" He turned on his heel and stormed from the room in a white-hot fury.

Antonio sat at the table and blinked in surprise. He had completely forgotten that Lovino's little brother was in the Italian military, but now he was sure he would never forget.

.

Antonio prepared to leave for a room at the nearest inn later that evening, feeling a little discouraged. He was almost certain that his job would be a lot harder if Lovino remained as difficult as he was being at the current time. It had been nearly an hour since his outburst, and there had still been not even a single chance of reconciliation between the two.

"Where do you think you're going?" Roma asked him, walking over to the door of the shop. "You work with us on a mission this important, and you stay under our roof."

"But Lovino is mad at me and I really don't want to cause any awkward tension under the roof," Antonio explained.

"Lovino is always mad at everyone," Roma said, blowing it off with a wave of his hand. "There is always awkward tension where he is involved. You learn to ignore it and you get used to it after awhile. It's honestly a part of his charm after awhile."

Antonio blinked in surprise. "His charm?"

"We Vargases all have some sort of charm," he explained. "Mine is my devastatingly good looks. Their father's was his way with words. Lovino's is the way his bad temper. It makes the ladies swoon after awhile. His brother is very artistically talented. My daughters are both the loveliest beings to walk the earth, like their mother was." He smiled proudly. "We all have charm that we carry. It's a natural thing, and Lovino's is his temper."

Antonio thought about it, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "That does seem to make sense now," he said. "I could see it. My family is very musical. That is our charm."

"See?" Roma said, smiling widely. "Charm runs in our blood. I knew you would understand! Now come on in, my boy! Make yourself at home in the guest room upstairs! I'll show you the way!"

Roma led him up the back stairs of the shop into the living quarters where Lovino was lounged on the couch, reading a book, though Antonio couldn't see the title. The hallway Roma led Antonio down was covered with framed photographs of Lovino and a boy who looked nearly identical to him, except for his auburn hair and a curl on the left side. Antonio figured that must be Feliciano. There were also pictures of a boy with loose, golden curls and dancing, blue eyes and another boy with loose, dark curls and flashing, green eyes. Those must be their cousins.

Antonio walked into a room with a twin-sized bed and a small chest of drawers. There was a wash basin and a small arm chair in the corner. That was it for furnishings. He smiled. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said, setting his backpack down on the bed.

"A friend of Italy is a friend of the Vargas family," Roma cheerfully told him.

"Then consider me a friend," Antonio said.

"That's what I like to hear, Antonio," the older man said. "I'm sure Lovino would be glad to hear as well."

Doubtful, Antonio thought, but he kept that to himself. "Are you sure he'll get over what happened earlier?" he asked after a moment.

"Lovi gets over things fairly quickly," Roma answered. "He just doesn't like talking about his brother much, so he avoids it at any possible chance. But you didn't mean it, so it's not like I'm going to hold it over your head. Just be a little more careful in the future is all I ask."

Antonio nodded. "I can do that," he quickly said.

"How old are you anyway, Antonio?" Roma asked. "I've never asked you that before, but you couldn't be too much older than my Lovino, could you?"

"I'm twenty-five years old," the Spaniard answered, blinking in surprise. "How old is Lovino?"

Roma let out a laugh. "He's just turned twenty a few months ago." He smiled to himself. "Believe it or not, but he and his younger brother share the same birthday even. They're that close, but no one knows it but those who lived with them." He sighed. "Sometimes Feliciano will write home on a bad day, just to talk about how much he misses Lovino. Those boys are really close, even if Lovino always acted as if they weren't."

"That sounds like me and mis primos," Antonio fondly recalled. "We didn't always get along, but I love them all so dearly." He smiled. "Family is family. There's no changing things like that. But in the end, who would want to?"

"I'm glad that you've reached that point in life," Roma said, smiling. "Let's hope our Lovino reaches it soon as well." He sighed. "Anyway, dinner will be ready soon."

"Gracias, Roma," Antonio gratefully said, smiling. "I am truly thankful for your kindness and hospitality."

"Grandpa, the food is finished," Lovino flatly stated, walking in. He glanced over at Antonio. "Are you eating as well? Do I need to set out a plate for you?"

"That's kind of you to ask, Lovi," Roma answered. "Yes, he will be eating with us. Please set out a plate for him as well." He patted Lovino's head. "Thanks for helping with dinner."

"Whatever," Lovino sighed and left the room.

After Roma left the room, Antonio decided to get some things put away before joining them. As he placed things into the chest of drawers. His mind began to wander as he placed his shirts in the drawers. He was starting to see how Lovino's temper was part of his charm. He could see how it worked for him.

Antonio chuckled to himself as he thought of Lovino when he first met him. He sensed a slight hint of fear from the Italian boy at first, though he didn't understand why? There was nothing about him to be afraid of. He decided to shrug it off and join the two for dinner.

At the table, Antonio was seated across from Lovino with Roma at the head. Lovino wouldn't even look at Antonio, much less speak to him unless if it was to pass him something that he couldn't reach. It was an awkward meal for Antonio with Roma's constant cheerful banter and Lovino's gruff replies, but he managed to make it through.

As he laid in bed that night, he could hear Lovino playing his acoustic guitar in the room just across the hall. It sounded nice, but he was playing just the same thing over again, the same guitar riff over and over, as if he were trying to memorize it. Antonio wished he understood more Italian so he could make out what Lovino was singing, but instead he just listened as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

.

"What were you singing last night?" Antonio asked Lovino as they sat together to try again to get to know each other after breakfast.

Lovino blinked at him in surprise for a moment before his eyes widened. "Wait, you heard that?" he asked. His face flushed tomato red in embarrassment. "It was nothing! You heard nothing last night, understand? Nothing at all!"

Antonio laughed playfully. "So it was nothing at all, eh? Why would you assume that something as beautiful as music was nothing?"

"Because I don't sing," Lovino growled at him. "That is my brother who sings. I don't, got that?"

"I understand," the Spaniard answered, smiling easily as he put his hands up in defense.

"Don't ever forget it either," Lovino huffed at him. "Stupid Spaniards thinking I sing," he grumbled to himself. He sighed and ran an impatient hand through his hair. "You are just a stupid bastardo. Just stupid."

"Estupido, got it," Antonio cheerfully agreed, smiling. He nodded to Lovino to appease him, laughing as he did so. "But what does that make you, Lovino Vargas?"

Lovino glared at him. "What do you think it makes me? I'm the smart one here! I'm the Italian after all!" He smirked confidently. "You're just my companion."

"I'm fine with that," Antonio stated with an indifferent shrug. "That just means you have to do all of the planning and leading." He leaned back in his chair. "Less work for me."

"Grandpa does all of that," Lovino said. "We just have to go wherever he tells us to go next. And do not doubt my leadership skills." He scoffed and Antonio. "I'll have you know that I make a remarkable leader when I need to lead."

"I'll trust your own judgement of yourself," Antonio said. "But if you ever need to hand over the reins, just say the word." He smiled at Lovino and saluted him. "I'm here at your disposal, Captain Vargas!"

Lovino sighed. "You're so easygoing and happy-go-lucky that it really annoys me."

"Maybe you're the one who's annoying," Antonio stated. "Have you ever thought of loosening up and having fun? Your abuelo says you're only twenty. You're five years younger than me, but you act like a grumpy old man. Perhaps you should loosen up and have some fun."

"When you're forced to grow up and skip your childhood, you don't exactly miss it once it's gone," Lovino told him. "Unlike you, who seems like you're stuck in it."

"You don't always have to be an adult, you know," Antonio said. "There's a time for work, and a time for play, Lovino. Always remember that."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I think we're done for now," he stiffly stated. "I have more reading to do anyway. Not that this isn't...fun. Or whatever you would refer to it as where you come from." He stood from his chair. "I'll see you at lunch."

Antonio watched Lovino exit as he pondered how there had to be a way to break that weird, protective barrier that man put up around himself. He wracked his brain long after the Italian had left the room. There were many ideas swimming through his mind, but none of them seemed right. His mind was starting to overwhelm him with thoughts of Lovino that were beginning to confuse him.

At first he was thinking of ways to get Lovino to open up to him in a personal way, as in to get him to talk about his brother and such. Within a matter of minutes, he was thinking of Lovino in romantic ways that confused him. He wasn't like that! Why was he thinking of Lovino in such ways? That was nonsense!

Antonio rigorously shook his head as he stood to get rid of the thoughts of him and Lovino as lovers. That was never going to happen! He was freaked out and ran to the sink to splash water on his face to make sure he was awake. His face dripped cold water as he reached for a towel, internally scolding himself. There wa no way he could ever think thoughts like those ever again. He was not that kind of man, and he was almost certain that Lovino wasn't either!

.

Lovino sat up in his bedroom after talking to Antonio, reading the same line in his book over and over. He couldn't focus, and he blamed that stupid Spaniard. Ever since Antonio had showed up, he hadn't been able to focus on anything, not even his guitar. Last night, he had played the same part over and over, forgetting what came next, when he had never forgotten a note of that song before. What was wrong with him?

Frustrated, Lovino threw his book across the room and watched as it smacked against the wall and slid down, making a dull thumping noise as it hit the floor. For some reason, the thumping noise satisfied Lovino as he leaned against the wall his bed was against. He sighed out loudly and blew his bangs out of his face.

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded of himself. "Ever since that stupid bastardo showed up, you've been acting all weird!"

He slammed his fist against his wall and then punched his pillow in frustration as he thought of that strange, unidentifiable thing he noticed about Antonio's eyes. What was it? Why did Antonio's eyes bother him so much? Was it because they were so beautiful? Was it because they made his heart stutter the first time he saw them? He just didn't understand. He wanted to understand! Why couldn't he understand why Antonio frustrated him so much?

But if Antonio frustrated him so much, why did he want to be around him all the time? Why did he always hate walking away from him? And just why the hell could he not get that obnoxiously handsome Spaniard off of his mind?

Then Lovino froze. Since when did he find Antonio handsome?