I rewrote the previous chapter. Sort of.

Last time Antonio thought about it, flowers were a thing you were supposed to bring to fancy events. He felt a little dumb standing there, a little too cold for what he was wearing, his flowers a little too brown.

He rang the doorbell, and Gilbert practically threw it open. "Oh, you wore it!"

Antonio looked at the jersey. "Well, Francis picked out a nice dress shirt, but you said it was good luck, no?"

"I got big money on Spain." Gilbert crossed his fingers, holding them up. "You're Spanish, wearing a fucking David Villa shirt—I'm hoping for at least a tie."

"Oh, Francis said you were betting on the games."

Gilbert nodded eagerly. "Yeah, well, with the baby and all, and Feliciano wanting to fucking decorate, and he's barely getting paid from the high school, it's…" Gilbert shrugged. "There's a lot of money on this game. I'm ferrying it to people. Stuff like that."

"What about the firm?"

Gilbert laughed, a little too loud. "It's not easy being an ambulance-chaser, Toño. But, fuck, come on in. Here, give me the fucking flowers, you didn't need to get those. Feliciano will love them. Feliciano, baby, Antonio's here!"

"Ah, Antonio, it's…" Feliciano froze when he saw Antonio. "Oh, you wore a jersey. Gilbert, did you tell him it's a nice-er party?"

"I told you, the Villa jersey is good luck. Besides, he just got out of the hospital, he can wear a jersey if he wants to, baby. And hell, look at him!" Gilbert grabbed Antonio by the shoulders and held him out. "How much weight did you lose?"

Antonio smiled. "It's good to see you again."

Feliciano nodded. "Yes, of course! It's fantastic to see you, too! I've never known someone who has gone to jail, you'll have to tell me all about it! It must have been really, really great!" He did not smile, hands on hips. "And you brought flowers!"

Feliciano plucked the flowers from Antonio's hands.

"Ah, Feliciano, I wasn't at jail, I was at court-ordered mental stability and rehabilitation—"

"Right, but you would have gone to jail otherwise, so, same thing!" Feliciano bounced into the kitchen. The kitchen sink turned on.

Antonio turned to Gilbert, but Gilbert was already waving away Antonio's words.

"He's not afraid of you, Toño. Just a little intimidated, is all." Gilbert rubbed his eyes. "At least he's putting your flowers in water—he didn't throw them out, or… Burn them, I guess."

"Did you explain that I didn't go to jail? You were my lawyer—"

"Toño, we aren't talking about that tonight! We're talking about good things!" Gilbert wrapped an arm around Antonio and led him through the house. "You like this art, hanging here? It cost an arm and a leg, but Feliciano has assured me it just makes the dining room pop. What do you think?"

Antonio squinted. "It's just… a circle?"

Gilbert nodded. "That's what I fucking said!"

Feliciano walked into the living room from the kitchen. "Antonio, I'm not sure if you ever met him, but this is my older brother, Lovino."

Lovino was wearing a suit. A full suit, with a tie, shiny shoes. He was chewing on a cigarette, following Feliciano from the kitchen, looking impossibly smooth and lean and lithe. His hands were in his pockets, his hair styled.

Antonio swallowed. "Hi. I'm Antonio."

Lovino's eyes flicked over to Antonio. He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I've heard about you. How's the restraining order?"

Feliciano laughed. "Lovino, I invited you because I thought we could all have a good time together. Please don't be annoying."

Lovino didn't look at his brother, but Antonio saw him grit his teeth, his hands ball into fists in his pockets. "Maybe it was a genuine question, brother. So, tell me, how's it going? I've never had a restraining order."

Antonio cleared his throat. Cleared it again. "Well, you see, Arthur and I are going to talk about the restraining order. It's… complicated. The restraining order was put into place after Arthur and I got into a disagreement—"

Lovino snorted. "Dude, the whole town knows about what happened. You tried to kill him."

Feliciano turned sharply. "Lovino, I told you to—"

Antonio laughed. "No, I tried to kill the man who broke up our marriage. However, he escaped with a broken cheekbone, a neck fracture, a broken coccyx…"

Lovino nodded. "Yeah, sounds like he got away with a pretty gentle beating.

Feliciano walked in between them. "Hey, okay, why don't we eat dinner, hm? A nice salad?"

Lovino looked at the ceiling. "I hate salad."

Feliciano herded them to the dining room. "Yes, Lovino, but you hate everything! So, we're going to sit down, grit our teeth, and—"

Antonio took an awkward seat next to Gilbert. Gilbert's grin was slipping.

"Wow, what are you," Lovino snapped, crossing his legs and placing a napkin on his lap, "my mother? Serve the main course, no one fucking likes salad."

There was a long wail from upstairs.

Feliciano sighed. "The baby's up."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to."

Antonio stated to stand. "If I could see the baby—"

Feliciano's eyes snapped to Antonio. "No!"

Antonio sat back down.

Gilbert closed his eyes. "Feliciano—"

"I'm going to check on the baby," Feliciano said, voice shrill.

He practically ran out of the room, muttering in German as he went. The wailing stopped, and it was very quiet in the dining room. Antonio nodded, tapping his fingers against the side of his chair, humming.

Lovino examined his nails, and Antonio found himself absently observing him. His hair curled slightly, his nose was straight—he reminded Antonio of those white busts from Rome, or those statues from Italy in marble.

Lovino looked up at him, and Antonio's head whipped to Gilbert. He was now staring at Gilbert.

Gilbert massaged his eyes. "Lovino speaks Spanish, Antonio."

"Fuck off, Gilbert."

Antonio perked. "Oh, really? I was a substitute teacher for the high school, that's how I met Arthur, and I would help in the Spanish classes. I grew up in Spain, so I know Spanish."

Feliciano padded into the kitchen, looking considerably more cheery, a bounce to his step. "Thanks for serving the salad, Gilbert!"

He bounced into the kitchen. Gilbert shoved himself away from the table, followed Feliciano.

Lovino glared after his brother. "Fucker won't even let me see the kid."

"Arthur never wanted kids—he wanted cats and fish."

Lovino grunted. "I guess he also didn't want to be faithful."

Antonio shook his head. "Oh, no, see, that's a common mistake! Arthur and I had communication problems, and he acted out by sleeping around, to get my attention so we could work on our issues."

Lovino's head shot back in surprise. "'Sleeping around?'"

Antonio shrugged. "The man who broke up our marriage wasn't the first—just the one I happened to catch. I'm willing to work with Arthur on his problems."

"Is Arthur?"

Feliciano reappeared, holding a ridiculously large bowl of salad. Gilbert followed behind, holding a plate full of dumpling-looking things. They smelled delicious, and Antonio grabbed a few as Gilbert walked behind him.

"At least you gave us the option of another appetizer," Lovino muttered.

"Bad for your heart, Lovino. Remember Grandpa." Feliciano settled himself and proceeded to grab both a dumpling and a few spoonsful of salad.

"Antonio, did you know that Lovino can speak Spanish?"

Lovino snorted a laugh. "Did you guys plan out talking points? Antonio—what meds did they put you on?"

Antonio considered. "I don't remember exactly—the names are really long, but I know they fucked me up."

Lovino nodded. "You're probably talking about Lithium—or Seroquel or Abilify. Those fuck you up, make you tired. Ever try Trazodone?"

Antonio grinned. "Trapzone? Yeah—I was gone."

Lovino smiled, nodded. "Oh yeah, out like a fucking light. I screwed ten people without even realizing it."

"Lovino," Feliciano breathed. "Can we not talk about what happened in the office, please?"

Antonio looked between them. "The office?"

Lovino stood. "I'm going."

"Lovino, please—"

"No, I'm sick and tired of this conversation, of you and Gilbert—Antonio, I want you to take me home."

Antonio hopped up.

"Lovino, I made your favorite dishes, and—"

"Well, maybe you should make fucking scripts in your head and expect me to not talk about my last six months like they haven't been fucking hell for me." Lovino waved a hand at Feliciano. "Sorry for waking the baby."

Lovino thundered down the stairs, threw up the door. Antonio caught it, closed it gently, and when he turned around, Lovino was already halfway across the yard. Antonio jogged after him.

"He's always been like this," Lovino snarled.

"Who?"

Lovino shook his head, shoved his hands into his pockets. "Nothing, it doesn't matter. He's fucking meddling like he always does. So fucking sick of him and his fucking bullshit."

Antonio nodded. "He's probably trying to help—"

"Yeah, and I'm sure Arthur sleeping with all those people was just trying to help your guys' communication problems." Lovino laughed. "They're selfish, the two of them!"

"You don't know anything about me and Arthur's relationship—"

"Don't I?" Lovino shook his head.

Antonio grabbed Lovino's arm. "You don't. I don't assume anything about you—"

Lovino ripped his arm away and faced Antonio. "Like Gilbert hasn't said anything. And I know you're living with that blabber mouth Francis—you're telling me he hasn't told you? I'm the manslut of the town now!"

Lovino stood in the middle of the street, breathing heavily, steam hissing past his teeth. His shoulders shook, and his face was red and blotchy. He looked like he was furious.

"My husband died," he said, voice hoarse.

Antonio frowned. "That doesn't mean you can go around judging Arthur—"

"Please, I've talked to that prick."

The world stopped turning. "You've talked to him."

Lovino had already kept walking.

Antonio followed, trying to grab Lovino's elbow, anything to hear more about this. "Hey, wait, when have you spoken to him? Lovino—"

Lovino glanced at him. "I'll tell you if you blow me."

Antonio's hand recoiled.

Lovino laughed. "Yeah, didn't fucking think so. Fuck off. Go home. Leave me alone."

"I'm married, Lovino!"

Lovino whirled to face him. "So is Arthur! So am I!" he shouted, slapped his hand to his chest.

Antonio shook his head. "No, he's dead, no?"

A storm erupted over Lovino's face. "Fuck you!" He pushed Antonio. "I'm going home. Thanks for fucking walking with me."

Antonio blinked. "Uh, you're welcome?"

Lovino nodded, turned, and walked away, dress shoes clacking on the asphalt.

Antonio was confused and aroused.