In-Tune

Rating: T

Summary: It was meant to be like any other of his family's usual summer home visits instead, when he invites his friend along in hopes of sharing the boredom, he finds a foreign star along the shore. SpaMano AntonioxLovino

BrooklynBabbii

.:Chapter Fourteen:.

[LOVINO]

The Italian was about to board the plane. He was going to board the plane. He was really going to board the plane, and willingly take himself from the home that he had made with Antonio. Not to mention his little child in the turtle named Toby. How was Toby, right now? Was Antonio feeding him? Did he take him for his walk yet? What if the Spaniard slacked off?

Lovino paused in sitting down on the seat, his face suddenly stiff and one of his eyes twitching. The flight attendants were telling everyone to turn off their phones for the duration of the flight and explaining emergency procedures.

Turning in his seat slightly to see Feliciano bubbling about seemingly nothing to the little old lady across from them; the older Italian inwardly pitied her. His younger brother could talk the ear off of even the most patient person.

As the older Italian tuned into the conversation, he thought he could very nearly see the happiness that Feliciano showed off so confidently, like he didn't have a care in the world. It was natural for him. Feliciano was rarely ever upset for long periods of time, even if something upset him, he would bounce back. He always bounced back.

And that was exactly what Lovino was going to do. He was going to bounce back. He wasn't going to let his past control his future. If Antonio could get past his, then Lovino sure as Hell could too.

As he continued to watch the lady's expression go from pleasantly amused to slightly overwhelmed with Feliciano's constant blabbering, Lovino thought back to the few times he had seen his brother…and the emotionless potato that he called the 'love of his life, besides pasta, Lovi!'

Ludwig was pretty much the opposite of Feliciano. Whereas the young Italian was constantly exuberating some emotion, mostly simple-minded happiness or another; Ludwig was usually stern-faced or had a calm façade that had Lovino questioning if the German was actually a militant spy. Whereas Feliciano stuffed himself silly, and then proceeded to pass out wherever was immediately comfortable (often times, the floor, if no one stopped him) ; half the time, Lovino wondered if Ludwig was ever eating enough. But the German would always pass up on the offering of more food, asking if Feliciano wanted more, which surprised Lovino on more than one occasion.

Ludwig and Feliciano were nearly complete opposites, from their hair and to eye color to their personalities, but they still loved each other so simply and yet so faithfully, it was as if their love was meant to be. Maybe it was, no wait, Lovino thought, it had to be meant to be, no one can stand Feliciano for this long. He thought this as he saw the old lady inching ever so slightly away from Feliciano's ever-running mouth. She looked one more grey hair of being terrified.

"Feliciano," Lovino said, as he took the other by the shoulder and all but yanked the smaller away from the old woman. The elder looked grateful, as she tried to hide her embarrassment in her book. Lovino caught the title: 50 Shades of Grey. And nearly choked on his own spit. Maybe he should have let Feliciano talk her to death.

"Aw, fratello, what's wrong?" Feliciano asked, turning around so that Lovino would release his shoulder. "Is something wrong?" Something in Feliciano made his eyes open a bit more, and Lovino could see clear concern. He immediately, almost too quickly, brushed off the concern with a wave of his hand.

"I'm fine, it's just –" He began to say, when an image of Antonio came to mind. The Spaniard was on the ground, every part of him dirty from the soil around him, and he was laughing as he fed Toby a tomato he had picked. The turtle eagerly ate at it.

"Fratello -?" Feliciano questioned again, while Lovino spaced out. The younger snapped his fingers, and then Lovino blurted, before he had even realized what he was saying, "How do you get on without Ludwig?"

The first thing Lovino regretted was admitting weakness, especially to his brother, who talked. Secondly, he regretted comparing himself to Feliciano. Third, he regretted how easily Feliciano smiled, as if it was the natural thing in the world, whereas Lovino had only recently gotten used to smiling genuinely more than he had for a long time.

But what Lovino didn't regret was asking the one person he knew that he could always ask something like this from. Because when Feliciano answered, Lovino felt the feeling in his chest. The warmth that reminded him of home.

Feliciano said, "Because I know that even if I leave, when I come back, he'll be right where I had left him…As if I had never been gone to begin with."

It was all the reassurance that Lovino needed.

[ANTONIO]

Looking about the kitchen, with a checklist in hand, reading aloud of the many chores that Lovino had oh-so lovingly texted him the moment that he had gotten a chance to, without the 'bitchy flight attendant going off on him again'.

"Alright, Toby," Antonio began, "A healthy and organic garden salad for his first meal, with the red-labeled spring water, not the blue one. Go easy on the carrots and be sure to cut the tomatoes into squares, it makes chewing easier." The Spaniard scanned the room for said turtle, and found the reptile eating at the table.

The slow crunching of fresh lettuce sounded around the room as the turtle chewed and silently enjoyed its breakfast. Antonio checked the bowl to be sure that he had abided by Lovino's rules. The lettuce was fresh and healthy, straight from the garden. There were enough carrots, not too much, just right; the tomatoes were correctly cut, though Toby was choosing to eat the tomatoes for last, as per the turtle's usual routine. The water cup was right beside a red-labeled bottle, broadcasting to the world that it was authentic Icelandic imported spring water.

Antonio checked the first thing off his list. He moved on to the second bullet. He said, "Second item: Put Toby outside for sun-bathing, and tend to garden." Nodding, the Spaniard looked back to Toby. The turtle was now nibbling on the second half leaf of his first lettuce by now. He still had time to eat himself, so without much thought; Antonio made himself a salad and happily chatted with his pet/child as he ate.

While Antonio waited on Toby to finish breakfast, he cleaned some dishes. When he was done washing dishes, he marked that off his list. Toby still hadn't finished. Antonio set out to do other chores. He vacuumed, and swept the kitchen floor; he rearranged pasta boxes, and washed the laundry. By the time that the laundry was about to go in the dryer, Toby pushed his empty bowl away and began to lap at his water cup.

Antonio beamed at the turtle, to which Toby only flatly regarded his presence, before tapping on the turtle so that he could put down. The parent in the room gladly picked him up and eased him outside to wallow in the early afternoon sun. While the turtle enjoyed the warmth and tried to chase after butterflies, Antonio tended to the garden, whistling as he did so.

Within an hour and a half, Toby was in a siesta, content in the shade of a nearby tomato plant large enough to shield him completely. Antonio was wiping some sweat from his forehead, sitting back on his knees to look over his work, proudly. He stood to check on Toby, and then picked him up, avoided a bite from said turtle at being disturbed, and then went inside. He was just putting down the turtle in his own bed, when the doorbell rang.

"Hm?" Antonio mused to himself, as he left the door at a crack. He was going down the stairs, when it rang again, and he called out, "I'm coming, hold on un minuto!" The doorbell didn't ring again, so the Spaniard assumed that the interested guests had heard him. He was smiling as the door opened, at first being greeted by his blonde friend, Francis.

"Mi amigo," Antonio began, about to open the door wider, "I haven't seen you in forever! Comó estas…?" The words felt like stones being dropped from his mouth, as he saw a face that he could have gone without seeing for a little while longer. It was Arthur.

It was almost scary to see the Spaniard's face darken, with some emotion that he was hardly familiar with how quickly that Antonio tried to shut the door. But luckily for all, Francis was just a bit faster, having planned the reaction, as he took to the door and tried to keep it from closing. But he had made a bit of an error; Antonio was stronger than he looked, and it was showing now, as the Spaniard continued to try and push the door closed. The Frenchman tried to make up for his error, by talking. Antonio tended to be influenced by words, if he was in a dark enough of mood, like now, to be pulled out of it. Acting against his temper with more force often led to bruising. Painful bruising. Painful, long-lasting, and very much visible bruising. Antonio may look like a softie, but the young man could pack a punch.

"Mon ami," Francis began, "Listen to moi. I know about Arthur, remember? You told me. Do you remember that? You did. I am trying to help."

"Not interested," Antonio grit out, and pushed on the door a little harder. Francis tried to keep it open, even going so far as look at Arthur, before pushing back. His shoulders were going to pay for this in the morning, but he shifted to get a bit more force behind him. He pushed the door back open a little more.

"I think you're lying to yourself, Toni," Francis said, trying to remain calm, though his patience was growing thinner by the moment. "You need this more than you say. But at least, listen to me: Arthur isn't looking for a second round with you. He just wants to talk to you, he's moving across the world, Antonio. Let him get this off his chest."

"No," Antonio growled, glaring out the door to the other green-eyed person outside it. "No queiro. You should understand me better than to do this, Francis. You should better than to bring him here. On my doorstep. On my property. Within my reach. Leave, now."

"Non," Francis said tightly, patience wearing out quicker as his shoulder began to throb. This was beginning to get more difficult than he had thought. Even with Arthur pushing on the door as well, they were barely keeping it open. As much as Francis loved his dearest Spanish friend and claimed brother, he was getting very annoyed with him very quickly. "Antonio, if you have to listen to a single word that I have to say now; listen to this: I know he hurt you. I know you hurt him."

Francis was getting angry. No, he wasn't getting angry. He was getting pissed off. This shouldn't be so difficult. Why was Antonio being a child? There was no need for such. The Frenchman continued on, "But he's been trying to reach out to you for years, now. Open this door, before I shove a foot up your ass, and make you listen. I kept him away from you, after you told me about him, but enough is enough. Get off of the fucking door!"

Antonio got off the fucking door. He immediately dropped back, not as if in realization, but just so when the door opened, Francis and Arthur would fall on the floor. The Spaniard had taken a few steps back, clenching his fists at his sides. He looked upstairs, face still dark but with a small tingle of concern. No, toby hadn't woken up yet. Good. He turned back to the guests that were now brushing the dirt from their persons. "You've got five minutes, before I throw you both out."

The way that Antonio had said it made chills go up Francis' spine, but he held tall and strong. Arthur put on a front, crossing his arms and scoffing, but the Brit would meet the Spaniard's eyes. Antonio was looking over everyone's head, taking advantage in being an inch or so taller than the majority in the room.

Francis sighed, running a hand through his hair, and then decided to be the adult and begin. "Look, Toni," he said, trying to go back to his earlier calm though his shoulder was hurting like a bitch. "I'm not asking you to forgive him for everything he's done. I'm not asking you for you to forget what had gone on between the two of you, however: I will demand that you both, at least, stop acting like squabbling children, and move on with your lives."

Both Antonio and Arthur looked up at that, to glare at Francis. Neither took very much liking to being compared to children. But in the Frenchman's eyes, that was how he saw them acting. He continued on, with their full attention, more or less, "At least, drop the animosity and angst between the two of you. You're both grown now, both of you have prospective futures ahead of you, and a wonderful present in front of you."

Arthur was rubbing his wrists, and Antonio took to twirling a lock of hair behind his ear. Neither would meet the other's green eyes, but didn't bother to say anything against Francis' words. They didn't stop him, as he continued, "Don't you see how petty this long-standing hatred between the two of you is? Please, merci, let's just ease it off your shoulders, if only to get a better night's sleep, alright?"

Antonio was about to say something, make up an excuse to go hide in the kitchen, until he could catch his breath, but Arthur stopped him, and then began apologizing. The Brit was all but running his words together, shocking everyone, "I-I-! Fine, damn it, I'm sorry! There I said it, I'm sorry! I ruined your life! I made your life Hell, because I answered your phone! I ultimately scarred you forever! I fucked up, alright? You have every right to be angry at me, but please, if only for the sake of what heart you have left, at least talk to me! Look me in my eyes!"

The Brit's sudden exclamation had stunned Antonio, but it wasn't enough for the shorter blonde to be satisfied. He continued, "You won't even look me in the eyes, anymore. You used to call them pretty, now you act as if you don't even notice me here. Please, Antonio, I need this. Just, at least, consider it. I don't want you to hate me forever."

Antonio paused. On one hand, Francis was right. Arthur was miserable. But on the other hand, there was still his memories mocking the Brit's words, trying to poke at what could be empty words. Poking and poking, until a lie could be formed. Before one could surface in the Spaniard's mind, however and remembering Lovino, remembering Selina and then, the bright face of his little daughter, Isabella. Was he really still mad at Arthur, if he had all of these precious things to cherish? Or was he only mad at Arthur for something as a scrap goat.

Antonio licked his lips, raised his head and said nothing. He stayed that way for a long time, until finally; finally, he came back down and sighed. He began slowly, his Spanish accent leaving more as more of his words came through. He could do this. "Ah," he started, and swallowed to ease his dry throat, "…Si. Lo siento, mi...Amigo?"

Arthur seemed to smile a bit at the mention of being friends again, although the word still left a bit of a sour taste in Antonio's mouth. But he could get past it. He could get past this, all of it, for his family. The one thing that he would never intentionally destroy or throw away for anything in the world; Antonio continued, "I'm sorry, too, but… I did hurt you too. I brought it on myself, and then chose you as a scrape goat, because you put it in my face that it was wrong. I-I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for ignoring you, for hating you, for – for pretending you didn't exist when all you wanted was for me to listen."

Even when Arthur tried to say something, Antonio stopped him. He wasn't finished. The Spaniard had to say this, so he did, "You didn't know who would pick up or what they would say, when you answered my phone, and though I regret things had to end that way, I'm happy with my life now. I'm happy with mi tomate, Lovino."

At the mention of that name, Arthur's eyes widened, but he kept quiet, as the Spaniard continued, as if he hadn't even noticed the expression. "And the beautiful woman who still loves me and raises my daughter," Antonio finished.

Arthur blinked, a bit taken aback. "You had a… a girl?" He paused, but after a quick moment, he dared to ask her name. Antonio smiled, "Isabella Sofia Sandoval-Carriedo." Arthur blinked, and then nodded and smiled silently, as the Spaniard continued, "Si, she's my pride and joy. She met Lovi, but she doesn't know. Selina knows, but she cares enough to at least accept it and be happy for me."

Arthur didn't hesitate to say, "I-I'm…happy for you, Antonio."

Antonio nodded, and then went on to say, "Me too, and for your information: You didn't ruin my life. You just showed how much was wrong with it. Thank you, gracias, for that. I don't think I'd be half as happy with my life, if you hadn't done that…"

The Spaniard went sheepish, scratching his head, and trying to grin. Arthur raised a brow, and Francis began to laugh, he knew what was coming and it was well worth the pain in his body to be there to hear it. Antonio said, "Granted, I fucked up too, but my mistakes led me here, so I'm good!"

Everyone was smiling, the tension was gone for the most part, after Antonio's little jest, and then Francis decided to pop the bubble. "Alright then, now that everybody has forgiven and is happy and all that: How about a threesome?"

Arthur, once more, didn't hesitate to ask, "Permission to run him off your property?"

Antonio smiled darkly, as he answered, chuckling as he did so, "Permission granted, si. I will sic Toby on him." Francis paled, and began to back up, trying to laugh and plead it off as a joke. But the other green-eyed males were closing in, laughing darkly.

As the pair chased Francis around the yard, before finally pouncing on him and ruining his hair style, that the beaten blonde complained took him an hour to do in the mirror and more mousse and bobby pins than he thought he could afford. But a moment after, they were all laughing. Simply laughing, the tension simply seemed to evaporate, and before long, Antonio was offering them cold water to drink inside.

It felt nice. It was nice to have all that off his chest, Antonio realized. And he smiled.

Even the one he had cursed and blamed hadn't left him behind.

OMIGOD. HAPPY ENDING. But the world isn't ending, just yet. I still need to put up the epilogue.

Again, thank you all for still being here, I can't thank you enough for going through this whole story with me, even when it sucked ass and seemed terrible. Thank you and have a nice day/night!

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