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spamano-secretvalentine · 5 years

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My Name

Part of the Spamano Secret Valentines 2019 Event

To: nishiromance

From: unitlost

Prompt: angel x human. In a setting in which their love is forbidden so they must meet in secret.

＊＊＊

Humanity, he had known, was indiscriminately sinful.

Humanity also made a damn good seafood paella.

Antonio clocked out of his dead-end desk job with a skip in his step. He had already missed the last bus, and it was snowing, but he figured that tonight was as good a night as any for a walk. He wanted to get home as soon as possible, though, and when he opened the door to his tiny apartment he was noticeably out of breath.

The figure that met him in the doorway was smaller than him, wrapped in a blanket over an oversized t-shirt, Antonio’s own.

It still amused Antonio that an angel could appear in front of him and be considerably smaller than him.

“Quit it,” the angel spoke. “I can feel your stare.”

Antonio blinked at the grumpy pout that faced him and burst into a grin. “Sorry, you just look so cute in that! Was that all you could find? That shirt is big on me, so I can barely see you under there!”

The angel dodged his embrace, retreating further into the apartment. “Well, I’m sorry that your kind sinned and needs to wear clothes.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t wear clothes!”

“Absolutely not; the human body is too weird.”

Antonio hung up his woolen coat. “And I appreciate that you’d put up with it for me. Now let me hug you!”

The angel shrieked–or maybe it was Antonio, he was prone to doing that–and dove away. Behind the couch, around the coffee table, practically bouncing off the walls in childish and untampered mischief. They chased each other around the cramped space until he allowed himself to be caught (he told himself), and he reveled in the pure, unadulterated joy that radiated off of the other. Antonio’s grip was vice but held no threat, the angel’s glare was just for show, and they collapsed in a tangle onto the floor. Antonio told him that his laugh sounded like a choir of angels. He retorted that he had literally heard choirs of angels, and Antonio’s laughter resembled it far more.

They kissed, and though it made no difference, Antonio used his hands to shield his lover’s face from the world.

“You said,” the angel started, but Antonio’s lips interrupted any and all attempts to produce sound. He held them at bay just long enough to get his point across, “You said that you’d have food for me next time I came by,” before indulging himself once more.

“Oh!” his partner jumped up in remembrance. “That’s right, we have to eat it before it gets cold!” Antonio scrambled to set out mismatched dishes and silverware on the dusty, underused table, pushing the mountain of tupperware aside and kicking it away for later. The angel witnessed the frantic spectacle in silent amusement.

Antonio produced yet another tupperware from the tote bag he carried his things in, only instead of being empty and crusting, this one had grown opaque with the steam its contents released. “Seafood paella!” He haphazardly split the rice between the two plates and tried in vain to free it from the shape its plastic prison had imposed on it. “Or, close enough. I snuck into the breakroom to make it this afternoon, but the kitchen there is even smaller than my one here. But I got to practice a lot while you were away, so I think it’ll be alright.”

The angel sat in the place with a smaller portion. “If you didn’t know when I would be back, then that means…”

Antonio switched the plates and settled across from him. “Yeah, this is the 15th day I’ve eaten paella in a row, not counting Sundays. You never come by on Sunday.”

That explained the plastic containers strewn onto the floor. The angel fixed his gaze on the table and poked at a shrimp. He hadn’t thought about the full implications of Antonio cooking for a guest with no appointment. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come.”

“Thank you for coming at all.”

They settled into the usual system of conversation as they dug into their meals. Antonio talked about his day, and the angel would comment. The angel provided questions, and Antonio would answer. The angel learned more and more about Antonio, and he absorbed every word.

He absorbed Antonio’s eyes, deep and bright and earthy and alive all at the same time. His smile, lopsided and a little yellow but so genuine that it was more blinding than the pearliest of whites. The way he bounced in his seat as he recalled rare evenings with friends and even rarer weekends out of town, so retrospectively giddy that he seemed more like a spaniel than a Spaniard.

He also absorbed the bags under his eyes and the shadows the candles cast on his cheeks. The minuscule tremble in his hand whenever he raised it to his mouth. The way that, though he doubted he had a heart, seeing Antonio like this never failed to make it swell and ache with each beat.

“But it’s not like I’ll be working there forever, y’know? So I don’t mind it too much.”

“You say that every time. Every time, and nothing’s changed.”

Antonio scratched the back of his head. “I’m getting there, I promise! Soon, I’ll find a better job that I like and that pays more, and we–I, I mean I can get a better place. Maybe get a cat; you like cats, right?”

“Damn it, Antonio,” the angel exclaimed, although among the dirty dishes and dusty countertops, every corner a telltale reminder of the ungodly hours Antonio worked for next to nothing, he couldn’t bring himself to do more than whine.

Antonio tutted. “Should you of all people be using His name in vain?”

That comment earned him a sly smile. “God has better things to do than eavesdrop on me while I’m running errands.”

A content hum rumbled from the Spaniard’s throat. “If God isn’t listening, won’t you tell me your name?”

Thick, painful silence followed, hopeful and expectant on one side and full of dread and regret on the other. “You know I can’t.”

Antonio let out the breath he was holding with a tight smile. “I know, Roma. It’s ok.”

“You’re doing it again. Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Calling you what?”

“Roma. Why do you call me that?”

“Well,” olive eyes scrunched up in thought, “I have to call you something, right? And it fits.”

It wasn’t the first time they had had this exact conversation. Antonio always waited for his angel, always prompted him with the opportunity to reveal his true name. But it was forbidden, a name held too much power, and he was too afraid of the consequences to risk that final level of intimacy with Antonio. So he would refuse, and Antonio would accept his decision every time with that nickname, Roma. After the great city of Rome.

The most beautiful city in the world, Antonio would say. Timeless and powerful and beautiful. And, to top it all off, one of the holiest sites on Earth. There wasn’t a name in the world that could be more flattering or more thoughtful.

“I wouldn’t say Rome is the most holy place,” he would argue, uncomfortable with how genuinely Antonio exalted him.

“Would you rather I call you Vatican City?”

Roma always conceded with a hum. “Fair point.”

They settled into another comfortable silence. Well, it was silent on Roma’s part; Antonio began explaining how he ran out of the correct type of rice halfway through the week but didn’t have time to buy more and so he begged a coworker to get some for him. How he would sneak into the break room when his supervisors weren’t around to scold him for slacking off. Not that Antonio could ever truly slack off. The angel wouldn’t have been surprised if Antonio didn’t know the meaning of the word vacation. How the first time, he had to make emergency photocopies and the unfinished dish almost set the entire building ablaze. Roma listened silently as Antonio turned every chance event into an adventurous tale.

“Well,” he finally contributed. “Next time, show me how to make it. Cooking sounds fun.”

Antonio stared at him for a long moment before he swallowed thickly. Roma frowned. “Yes, yes of course! I’d love to teach you how to cook.” He took a sip of water. “Maybe not next time, but soon. I promise I’ll teach you soon.”

Roma rubbed his temples, wishing the other would just be honest about his situation.

Antonio reached across the table to rest his hand on his angel’s unoccupied one. “Work is just really busy, y’know? I have to take papers home to keep up so I don’t have time to cook at home right now.”

The candles strewn around the rooms gave Roma an all-too-good look at the gaze that settled just outside of locking eyes. As if that was supposed to fool him.

The candles weren’t for a romantic atmosphere.

“Chicken and sausage is the easiest variation to make, so we’ll start with that.”

Antonio’s stove was electric.

“Antonio.” The name came out sternly but he tried his best to be gentle, using that voice that was usually reserved for saying shit like ‘do not be afraid.’ They were always afraid; it was just a custom at this point. “Have they turned the power back on?”

His beloved followed his gaze into the kitchen with a sigh. “Here, here, have a squid.” The mouthful was accepted with a scowl. “No, they haven’t turned it back on. But don’t worry about it, ok? The heat and water work and I can charge my phone at work.”

“It’s freezing in here!” the angel protested, gesturing to the blanket he had discarded onto the floor some time ago.

Antonio closed his eyes. “Is it? Cool. I guess they turned that off after I left this morning.”

Great, was Antonio overworking himself to the point of a fever? How could he have not noticed that he was living in a fucking tundra?!

No, his hands were shaking before. He had been shivering. He was just pretending to not realize.

“The water does work though!” he weakly offered. “We’re drinking it right now. So that has to count for… for something, right?”

Roma felt his frustration boil up and took a deep breath to keep his temper in check. “You deserve better, Antonio.”

“I already have you,” the man insisted. “How could I be so selfish to ask for more? As long as I have you, I won’t want for anything!”

“It doesn’t work that way, damn it!” The angel stabbed his final prawn with his fork. “While I appreciate the sap, I’d still want for fucking electricity in my home!”

Antonio leaned back in his chair, letting his head fall back. “Ok, you’re right, I’ll work harder to pay the bills on time.”

Roma’s chair crashed to the floor with the force of his movement. “No!”

“Oh my god, what do you want from me, Roma?!”

“I don’t know!” He wanted Antonio to be happy. For him to not wake up wondering if his television would work that day. For him to not have to choose between paying his bills and buying fresh mussels to make dinner for over two weeks straight for his secret lover who didn’t need to eat to survive in the first place.

But he couldn’t say that. He couldn’t storm off in a frenzy. He had no idea when he could come back. Yes, he had always been too afraid of his own heartbreak to do anything about it. His one strange curl bent crookedly as he bent down to fix the chair he had knocked over before heading to the living room. “Dinner was good.”

Antonio deposited the dishes onto the pile in the sink and moved to meet the other on the couch. Roma looked more like a spoiled child than a timeless angel, he thought, with plump lips and full cheeks pulled into a pout. Roma told him to shut up. Antonio hoped he looked that good when he reached the ripe age of timeless.

Roma tugged at Antonio’s t-shirt, who pulled it over his head and dragged the other onto his bare chest in response.

“Roma?” The angel hummed. “Do you remember when we first met?”

The hand that was tracing lines on sun-kissed skin stilled. “No,” he lied.

“Mm,” Antonio’s chest rumbled with the noise. “Me neither.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“So are you.”

Roma huffed. “You asked me if it hurt when I fell from heaven and I was so startled that I blew my cover almost immediately. Do you know how much fucking trouble I would have been in if the street had been crowded?!”

“I had no way of knowing!” Antonio protested. “Do you know how freaked out I was to be pulled into an alley by a stranger who then nearly poked my eyes out with his wing?”

“That was an accident,” was the matching argument, and both laughed at the ridiculous memory.

“The point is,” Antonio slid his hands under Roma’s shirt, making the latter shiver (they were cold, damn it, that was all). “I knew from the start that our situation would be different. You don’t need to be upset about not being able to support me financially.” He brushed a lock of hair from Roma’s face. “That’s what you’re worried about, yeah?”

“No.” Yes. “You, I just.” The man under him arched an eyebrow. “Ok, maybe, yeah. I just wish I could be any help at all, that I wasn’t so busy doing errands all the time.”

“Oh? Am I the errand?”

Roma jabbed his cheek with a finger when he felt Antonio massage his shoulder blades, willing his wings to stay away and his self control to stay existent. “Later; you always fall asleep right after. Don’t change the subject right when we finally start talking about it.”

An apologetic kiss. “Right. Yeah. I guess there were things I was afraid to bring up.”

“Because you didn’t want me to worry?”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t take care of myself.” Antonio let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe I should just knock over those candles and collect the insurance.”

“Don’t say that.” Ever the hypocrite, Roma scratched Antonio’s scalp, willing the dissatisfaction to leave his face. It worked; Antonio’s hairline was very sensitive.

He only wished it was that easy with all his problems. Had Antonio grown so desperate that he was literally considering committing arson on his own property? At this point it would take divine intervention to take care of this.

Well.

“I don’t like that look, love.” Antonio stretched lazily.

“If I told you my name.”

He perked up at that. “Huh?”

“If you knew my name, you could ask God for a favor in my name.”

“You can do that??”

Roma rested his head under the other’s chin. “How do you think miracles work?”

Antonio took a moment to think it over. “If you tell me your name, financial security will find me,” he clarified.

“That’s right.”

“I could quit my job and move out of this dump?”

“That’s right.”

He seemed to be brightening up at the idea–at the idea of a comfortable living and a comfortable home, a bright and warm home–but then a frown graced his features. “And then God would know about us.”

Roma swallowed. “That’s right.”

“And I’d never see you again.”

The angel braced himself for a no. For a, ‘how could you even suggest such a thing.’ For any angry reaction that would mean he wouldn’t have to face that very real option.

What he got was the most intense look ever directed at him and a, “Would that make you happy?”

He must have heard that wrong. “What?”

“If I had money in return for never being with you again, would you be happy?”

Roma opened his mouth and, finding himself at a loss for words, closed it again. Would it make him happy? He didn’t know. Did he? No. He didn’t. He didn’t know. Antonio would be safe and stable. He wouldn’t have to worry anymore. And Roma wouldn’t have to worry about him.

But he’d never be able to celebrate those moments with him. He’d never be able to criticize his choice in real estate, or share drinks until they were totally shitfaced to celebrate his promotions.

He would never learn how to make paella.

Roma would rather spend an eternity in hell than never see Antonio again. So, no. He supposed he wouldn’t be happy. But Antonio would. Antonio could be happy if he forced his own feelings down.

“I want you to be happy,” he finally offered.

“And I want you to be happy.”

“Well congrats, we’re at a fucking stalemate.” Roma sighed. “If I could do anything at all to finally make your life a little bit better, I would take that chance.” He took a deep breath to steady his shaking voice before quietly adding, “This is that chance.”

Antonio let his gaze leave his lover’s face and wander around the space, and Roma followed it with his own. It lingered on the crooked table, held up by a cardboard box on one side. The tupperware, still strewn out on the floor. The worn couch, with the padding showing through almost every cushion. The kitchen that, aside from the sink, was essentially useless at the moment. (God knew what horrors would emerge from the fridge should someone open it.) The candle wax as its source shrunk lower and lower, taking their light source with it.

“I truly,” he began, eyes still on the candlestick, “never deserved you, Roma. I barged into your life and, even though mine was a fucking disaster, you shone a little bit of light on it. That was more than I could ever deserve. Me, who can’t give you anything similar to that.”

Roma did not have a heart, but in that moment he was certain that it broke anyway.

“I know I can’t wake up next to you every morning, or get excited about making dinner every night. I’ll never have the privilege of knowing your favorite color–hell, can I even see it?–or what you want on your picnic sandwiches, much less your name. I can’t give you the privilege of sharing that with the one you love.” He swallowed the tightness building inside of him. They both did. “But I, I can give you this. I can fulfill at least one desire of yours.”

Roma shed tears that he did not know he was capable of shedding. One last moment, and then his beloved human could be happy. All he had to do was give him his name. Antonio’s stress, his sorrow, it would all be over.

It would all be over.

Antonio wiped his lover’s eyes in vain, for the tears fell too fast to be contained. “It’s up to you,” he insisted, voice so soft only he could hear it. “I’d gladly spend the rest of my life in a box on the street if it meant that I could spend it with you. But I’ll also accept your decision if that’s truly the path you think we should take.”

The path they should take.

It was only inevitable that it would end this way.

Humanity, he had known, was indiscriminately sinful.

There was no way around it. Angels and Sin did not coexist. All things considered, this was the only way it could have ended. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, this was the only possible outcome.

“My favorite color is blue,” the angel whispered, locking eyes with his human below. The candle on the table beside them flickered. “I don’t know much about sandwiches but I imagine I’d like ham, ironically enough.” He cupped Antonio’s face in his hands and leaned forward into him, unable to suppress two shining feathered wings from erupting from his back in the raw emotion that overwhelmed him. “I love you. More than anything. I want the world for you. I would give up the world for you.”

Antonio closed his eyes, giving into the sobs that wracked his own chest. “My angel.”

Roma dropped his voice even further, to the point where even the bugs in the cracked walls wouldn’t be able to hear. “And my name is–”

“Wait,” came the protest, muffled by the kiss that actually halted his words. “Please, just, give me one more night. One more. For closure.”

They barely separated, and Roma felt Antonio’s lips move with his own as he mouthed, “One more night.”

Antonio had always been gentle, as if Roma would disintegrate if he held on too tight. This time was different, though. This time they held each other closer than either thought possible. Antonio shook with every movement and breath. Roma absorbed everything about him, from the tenseness in his muscles to the pitches he filled the silence with. Roma absorbed absolutely everything Antonio ever had and could offer him, so that he would never forget any of it.

Neither stopped crying until there were no tears left to cry. The candle wept with them, seeming to melt faster in response to the passion just a door away.

Eventually, the light of dawn hit Roma’s face through a crack in the curtains, making him groan. He didn’t want to wake up. If he never woke up, the night would never end and he wouldn’t have to leave.

“Good morning,” the figure next to him greeted hoarsely.

Roma rolled over onto his back, leaving his hand laced with Antonio’s. “Did you sleep?”

“I didn’t.”

“You have work today.”

Antonio chuckled. There was still emotion in it. “I thought, if I never went to sleep, the night wouldn’t end and you wouldn’t have to leave,” he admitted.

Roma didn’t say anything.

“But I think I’m ready now,” prodded Antonio, not sounding ready at all. “As ready as I’ll ever be, at least.”

This was it. One word, and Antonio could be happy.

One word, and Antonio would lose the weight of debt and exhaustion on his shoulders.

One word, and Roma would lose Antonio.

“My name.”

“Your name,” he echoed.

But Antonio would be happy, he told himself.

Antonio would be happy.

He would be happy.

They turned to face each other. As his eyes adjusted, he witnessed the biggest, brightest smile, and the most pained eyes he had ever seen.

And in that moment, he knew.

Yes, humanity was indiscriminately sinful.

Maybe he was more human than he had thought.

“It’s Roma, I guess.”

Antonio blinked, before the words settled in and he covered his mouth with his free hand. “Roma?”

Roma could only think to brush his thumb over the other’s knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry for trying to fix everything myself when you obviously wanted to do it together.

For not being able to go through with it.

For forcing you to go through with it.

Fresh tears pricked at his lover’s eyes. “I told you,” he choked. “As long as I have you, I won’t want for anything.”

“I believe you,” the angel murmured in reply. “And I’m glad.”

From the space below the door, the faint light of the forgotten candle illuminated the floor.

“Chicken and sausage paella.”

Antonio laughed freely, truly freely, for the first time in a long while. “Anything for you.”

Roma had known. He had known with every warm, lingering gaze. With every long night. Every moment together and every smile sent his way.

He really, truly would rather burn in hell than give that up.

Humanity was indiscriminately sinful.

But to him, Antonio was a saint.

＊＊＊

I think the story ran away from me and started telling itself at some point, haha. Regardless, I hope you like this! It was really fun to write.

Happy Valentine’s Day! - Unit

#spamano secret valentines #spamano #aph spain #aph romano #APH #hetalia #submission #spamanovalentinesday2019 #nishiromance #unitlost

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spamano-secretvalentine · 5 years

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Just use the hashtag on your post to participate~

#spamano #APH Spain #aph romano #spain x romano #spainxromano #spamanovalentinesday2019

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spamano-secretvalentine · 5 years

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Spamano Valentine Pinchhit

For Anya/ noharm-intrying

Romano gasped as he entered the toasty living room. He shook snow from his hair and shoulders, taking care not to jostle the box tucked under his arm.

"Spain!" he called out. He proceeded to toe his boots off and tug at his gloves with his teeth. He let the pieces of clothing get strewn behind him like a trail of breadcrumbs. "Spain!" he shouted harder. "Are you ignoring me now, you bastard?!"

He lost his coat, coming into the kitchen. "SPAIN?!"

Still, there was no response. He was about to call lost-and-found when he noticed a note stuck on the refrigerator door. A tomato magnet held it in place.

He read the note aloud. "At work party with Portucale, Aragon and Catalonia. Don't wait up." The note was signed with Spain's human name followed by an incredulous amounts of hearts.

Romano snorted, his shoulders going tense. He crumpled the note into a ball. Then he stomped to the kitchen table and slammed his gift down, hearing the soft insides splatter against the cover.

He'd spent so long on making this perfect gift but right this moment, he didn't give a shit. He glumly sat down, crossed his arms and scowled darkly at the table, intent on waiting for the man to come home.

Romano's knee was bouncing steadily, his socked heel's muffled bouncing against the tiled floor driving him insane. He shook his arm out before checking his watch. It was definitely past Ass o'clock the bastard should've been home.

The front door opened and Romano straightened up. He wanted to count the seconds it took for Spain to come into the kitchen but he wasn't even past two when he heard a yelp and a loud crash. He whipped his head towards the door, wondering what the noise was about.

"Spain?" Romano called out from behind the kitchen door. He found the courage to investigate but not enough to come into the living room. He cracked the door open and peeked in.

Spain was sprawled face down on the carpet. His feet was caught on one of Romano's boots. "Hey, Romano. Did I wake you up? Sorry." He slurred his words and when he tried to stand up, he swayed.

Romano glared at him. "Work party, huh? How'd you get so smashed?"

Spain giggled a second later, as if he remembered something funny. "Portucale was there, silly. Had to show him up somehow. Whoops!" He kept trying to lean down and touch the ground.

Romano came to his side and grabbed his arm. "Did you win?"

Spain struggle weakly in his arms. "Wait, Romano... your stuff... it's everywhere."

"Forget about those. Did you wipe the competition?"

"Huh?" Spain slowly blinked into the distance. "I think I did. Someone had to carry him out of there. That means I won! Hah!"

Romano growled under his breath and slowly carted the man to the couch. He dumped the still giggling man, who gave a tiny whee! when Romano grabbed his feet to lay him down sideways. He grabbed the man's shoes and yanked it off. Then he grabbed his socks and took those off too.

"Stay here. I'll get you some water," Romano said. Spain tried to stand up and follow, but Romano used two fingers on his forehead to push him down.

When he came back, Spain was already dozing, his breath coming out in slow huffs. Romano set down the glass of water on the coffee table, got the throw blanket out and tucked Spain in before going back to the kitchen for some pain killers.

While walking out to the living room, he noticed his gift sitting innocently on the table. The box leaned heavily on one side and a gray spot growing on the white cardboard. The side of his lips twitched and he reached for the grocery pad and a pen. He put the note on the box, using the tomato magnet to weight it down.

He left the painkillers next to the glass of water before gathering his things. He dimmed the lights and straightened out Spain's shoes and socks. He yanked at the throw blanket, making sure Spain's feet were covered. Once everything was in place, he stopped by the door to look at the sleeping man on the couch.

Romano grinned to himself, feeling pride suffuse his being, before going out the front door.

The sun was shining brightly when Romano's phone rang.

"This better be good or, I swear on Mother Mary and Baby Jesus, I will cut your balls off."

"Good morning to you too, Romano! I wanted to thank you for taking care of me last night! The regional meeting had gone on like it usually did and I was really gone."

"Oh, Spain." Veneziano grumbled in his sleep as Romano got out of bed and flung his blankets on his younger brother. He scratched his tummy, ignored his jeans from the night before and leaned into the closet to grab a fresh one. "You don't sound like you have a hangover."

"Yeah," Spain's voice trailed off in a nervous laugh. "It's all because of your gift!"

"The painkillers? Yeah, right." Romano grabbed two shirts from the closet and faced the mirror to see which matched his pants. He spied Veneziano rolling over, spread-eagled in the middle of the bed.

"All mine," Veneziano giggled. Romano snorted and reached a foot over to nudge the younger man on the butt.

"Oh, God. This reminds me of the time you used to fake bake literal mud pies. You never tried to make Belgium eat it but she never told me and I got to actually taste that stuff. This is so much better though."

"Oh," Romano replied, scratching his cheek. He could feel blood flowing to his face. He hastily put the better shirt on before continuing. "Yeah. It was, you know... for Valentine's..."

"I'm sorry, Romano. The connection broke a bit there. What did you say?"

"You can read it in the note, you ass hat."

"Aw. But I'd love to hear you say it."

Veneziano was chanting 'do it, do it' on the background. Romano yanked his ankle and Veneciano's chanting ended with a loud yelp.

"Damn you," Romano grumbled into the phone, hastening for the bathroom, where he could lock himself in and get some peace and quiet. "I-I don't need to say it! Besides, you missed it! I was waiting for you all night!" he hissed back.

"I know. I'm sorry," Spain offered, his voice laced with sorrow.

Ugh, Romano wasn't going to fall for this, he wasn't.

"But can you indulge me? Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?"

Romano scowled at the bathroom tiles.

"Happy Valentine's Day... you bastard."

Spain laughed. It sounded like bells high above in a steeple.

"Happy Valentine's Day to you, too, Romano!"

#noharm-intrying #spamano #spamanovalentinesday2019 #aph spain #aph romano #spamano secret valentines

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spamano-secretvalentine · 5 years

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Snake Charmer {gift}

To: @offshootavadonia / @avadonians

From: lluviadinoche / askitaliaromano

NOTE: You asked for an AU so I give to you a quality Pottertalia oneshot with to dumb gay teen wizards. (also, if you are not familiar with my work, I use the name Lorenzo not Lovino). I hope that you like this :)

Word Count: 2,863

Warning: Profanity

“Son of a biTCH! MY SHIRT!”

He was frozen in that moment, staring straight ahead at the man screaming at him in Italian and looking red enough to compete with the Spanish flag painted on Antonio’s face.

“How the fuck do you manage to spill your fucking face paint all over my shirt? Are you bat shit fucking blind?”

Well fuck. Antonio didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t speak English and he was barely grasping a damn word that this man was saying. He spoke Spanish, German, French, he knew Latin and Italian. But not English. And frankly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to speak to this man yelling at him.

“Are you gonna say something?” Francis asked from next to him, “He screamed in Italian so I think it’s safe to say he probably speaks it.”

“No se. I don’t really want to try and talk him. He looks like he’s going to rip my dick off if I speak.”

“Eugh, you’re French,” the man scrunched his nose upon hearing the two speaking to each other.

Francis clearly took offense, gasping dramatically and shouting at Antonio to hit him. But Antonio pushed Francis back and tilted his head, laughing hysterically. He wheezed and eventually let go of Francis, simply howling in amusement.

“Dios mio! You’re such a dumbass!” he snickered, watching the man’s face twist in confusion at the sudden switch to Italian.

“You speak Italian?”

“No no,” Antonio shook his head, “I’m just speaking in Italian to you to let you know that I clearly don’t speak Italian.”

The man’s lip quivered a bit before he burst into laughter, snorting in the middle of his amusement.

Antonio shook his head, “You have a fucking filthy mouth, you know? And apparently a terrible prejudice against the French. You’re more of a dumbass than anything, you know. This is the Spanish flag on my face, shortie.”

“I dunno. Maybe you just like the team.” the man said with a shrug, “And call me a dumbass one more time and I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Kick my ass? Chiquito, you can barely reach my neck,” Antonio chuckled, clicking his tongue.

The man gasped the most dramatic gasp Antonio had ever heard in his life. Hell, this man was even clutching his chest dramatically despite the horrid red stain that was smeared all over the once green shirt. Eyes shot wide open, he went silent and Antonio waited, expecting a terrible insult from him that he could shoot back at.

But instead, the guy burst out laughing and collapsed back into his seat. He was snorting in between his laughter. It was absolutely horrid. Yet, Antonio listened in awe and watched this man who had been yelling at him seconds before laughing hysterically as if they were joking like a pair of friends.

“I’m sorry. I know we were having a bitch fit there, but that was the gayest gasp I have ever let out and I felt like I was acting in a soap opera for a moment.” he snorted again, laughing at his own ridiculous laugh, “Why do I even care that you fucked up my shirt? I can easily clean it or just get a new one.”

Antonio raised his brow, a half smile on his face. He didn’t notice Francis trying to talk to him since he was far too invested in the guy in front of him with an ugly laugh and the cutest wrinkles in the corner of his eyes when he smiled.

“If you’re not planning on yelling at me again, I might as well introduce myself. Antonio Fernandez.”

“Vargas. Lorenzo Vargas.”

Antonio’s mouth went into a small ‘o’ as he reached out to shake his hand. Lorenzo looked at him knowingly and grinned proudly. Perhaps he should have picked up that this was a Vargas. He was the spitting image of his grandfather and he didn’t shy away from appearing in the news.

“A pleasure to meet you, Vargas. Now, what was this about that being the gayest gasp that you ever let out? Is the prized Vargas son attracted to men?” he asked.

Lorenzo gasped and pulled his hand away, folding his arms over his chest, “Are you flirting with me? Weren’t you just calling me a dumbass a few moments ago?” He had a point. Antonio had been rather irritated. Yet, the banter kinda attracted him. It was refreshing and it filled him with a sense of glee. Not to mention the way that he laughed was absolutely adorable in his eyes despite it being so absolutely horrendous. He might as well have listened to the recording of a dying cat because that was what his laughter reminded him of.

“Maybe, but I’m also a very sad gay man and I am also very very poor.” he laughed as he said the last part, watching Lorenzo’s eyes light up with amusement for a moment before he pushed Antonio’s shoulder gently. There was a delicate smile that grew on his face, it spread crookedly, but Antonio was a very helpless man and he practically melted.

“A gold digger, huh? How attractive. I’m just falling at your feet.” Lorenzo rolled his eyes, slouching forward.

Antonio shoved his hands in his pockets, “Who knows? Maybe you actually are attracted to me. Though the question is whether or not I am willing to date someone who goes to Hogwarts. Especially a Slytherin.”

Lorenzo gasped again, a hand flying over his chest, “How dare you! I am a proud Slytherin and I will defend Hogwarts til my dying breath! Tch, you act so high and mighty. I bet you go to Beauxbatons.”

From behind the bickering pair, Francis’ eyes widened and he huffed angrily, looking ready to strangle the both of them. But Antonio did not see, he was far too invested in the Vargas gem who truly was much more wonderful than he allowed himself to be viewed. A bit of a jackass really, but actually kind of funny and very interesting to challenge.

“What’s wrong with Beauxbatons?” he asked with a tilt of the head. His hair fell in his face and his eyes stared at Lorenzo who stared back with the same passion.

That snake, the way he looked at Antonio like some sort of pet. He shrugged gently and stepped forward, inches away from being pressed against his chest, “What isn’t wrong with being from Beauxbatons? It’s French.”

“Antonio, I am going to murder the little demon. Stop flirting and crush him! He’s tarnishing my honor!”

“What have you got against the French?” Antonio asked.

“What haven’t I got against the French? I’m fucking Italian.”

Antonio snorted.

Neither of them (nor Francis) seemed to notice the people staring at them from all around. This was rather concerning considering they were at the Quidditch World Cup and they should have been watching the game. But no. Instead, Antonio was ready to ask the man whom he had been arguing with out on a date and Francis looked ready to pounce (or cry) from the “dishonor” inflicted by a man who didn’t even look like he was 5’6 and sounded like the biggest twink Antonio had ever met.

Though to be fair, Antonio was pretty gay and this was a situation where he was allowing himself to fall victim to The Homosexuality™.

“Well,” Lorenzo said, putting his hands on his hips, “Unless being a Hogwarts student who is a Slytherin is too horrifying and terrible for you, I’ll be here until Monday.”

Antonio grinned, “Is that a date offer?”

“If you want it to be, sure.”

“Antonio, do not run off with the enemy!”

He was not listening to Francis. A shot with someone like Lorenzo Vargas? Antonio was taking that shot. It had nothing to do with his wealth or status, that was just a side thing that he found funny. Truth be told, Antonio was rather interested in the stupid arguments that they could get into. If all it took to calm him down from a messy shirt was laughing at his own reactions, Antonio wanted to be around him more to see what other things got that sort of reaction out of him.

“You don’t mind lowering yourself to someone from Beauxbatons?”

Lorenzo shrugged, “I think I’ll manage.”

Francis was practically screaming from behind Antonio while the people around them slowly began to lose interest and went back to the game that they had come to watch. But these two wizards kept their gaze on each other. With soft smiles on their face and this playful look in their eyes, it wasn’t hard to tell that they really liked each other (much to Francis’ dismay).

Even if whatever this moment was didn’t last, Antonio wanted to spend his time getting to know Lorenzo properly. He was funny and cute and Antonio was a weak man for that ability to go from angry to laughing in a few seconds. He knew that he wanted to get to know him; he could tolerate one Slytherin.

“Can you tolerate a Hogwarts Slytherin?” Lorenzo asked, plopping himself back in his seat.

“I think I can tolerate one,” he replied.

“I’m conflicted between supporting this romantic endeavor or murdering you in cold blood for wooing the man who spat on my culture and living.”

“Does he realize I can understand him?”

“Nope.”

Lorenzo shrugged and went back to talking to Antonio.

The two clicked in this way that sparked this light in their lives. Antonio didn’t know if it was the joking rivalry, the way Lorenzo later stained his shirt as revenge for the ruined one he was wearing, the ability to poke fun at each other, the subtle flirting in between their convo, or the fact they missed the entire game because all that they could do was talk to each other because they were the most fascinating part of the night in each other’s eyes.

They didn’t even know who won.

What Antonio did know is his tiny teenage stomach did flips with every light touch that Lorenzo gave him and that awkward laugh that was too loud and too animated. Even if this fling was temporary and he and Lorenzo went on to simply be friends, he didn’t mind so long as he got a chance at all.

Neither of them noticed when the game had ended and Francis draped himself dramatically over the seat next to them, waiting for them to quit flirting and notice that it was time to go. Where were parents when you needed them to interrupt this shit?

“We’ve been talking a long time, but you never did tell me why the Vargas family ended up in the UK.” Antonio said as their night drew to a close.

Lorenzo sighed, “Well, Italy isn’t exactly the best place for magical people with the Catholic Church and all. And yeah, most people don’t really believe in it or attack us anymore, but enough do that my grandfather took us away and it was right about when I was old enough to go to school. When Romeo got hurt, we ran out as fast as we could.”

Antonio fell silent.

He forgot about things like that.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching and putting his hand on Lorenzo’s arm. Lorenzo looked up at him with the softest, most genuine smile he had seen that night, and sighed.

“It’s alright. You don’t usually think about these things and I don’t talk about them.” He brushed it off so quickly and as if he didn’t care.

“You must miss Italy though.”

Lorenzo’s breath hitched and he clutched his arm, holding on tight as he looked away, “….Terribly.”

There was a heartbreak Antonio (and even Francis) had never seen in his eyes. It was as if his entire world was plucked away and he was left attempting to stand bold while he crumbled apart. It was odd how that worked; the way a person could go from laughing to crumbling and shattering in the matter of a few seconds. But, it was that change that convinced Antonio he truly wanted to be a part of Lorenzo’s life. Yeah, he had little to nothing to offer; the fact was that he was poor. Yet, Antonio wanted to give him the world and life and laughter.

“One day, I’ll take you there.”

The moment he said it, his face went red, realizing how stupid he sounded. Lorenzo came from the Vargas bloodline! They could go back whenever they wished, they didn’t need empty promises from some teenager with no money to his name.

And yet, Lorenzo looked up at him with big eyes, as if he had offered him more money than a king could offer.

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course I do.”

Lorenzo kept staring at him, his face burning up and the awkward teenager in him pouring out onto the floor, “You’re so fucking gay.”

Antonio laughed and shook his head gently, “Yeah. But I’m going to be honest with you, I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“Even my date for tomorrow night?”

“Especially your date for tomorrow night.”

After giving each other their info and agreeing on where to meet the next night, the two sat there and just stared at each other. They didn’t need to say anything to feel like they were having the most intimate conversation. It drove the reminder that they were teenagers who went to schools far apart with little chance of maintaining a stable relationship, but for that moment, just the fleeting second, the world was theirs and none of that mattered.

It didn’t last long. Soon the crowned Vargas himself walked in. He was as big and bold as Antonio imagined. He radiated power and it was funny to see him so bold and strong next to Lorenzo who was not exactly weak or fragile, but definitely much smaller.

“Lorenzo, there you are! Come, we’ve been looking for you so we could leave.”

“In a minute, old man. I’m having a moment.” he said.

Antonio’s eyes widened even more. He expected yelling or anger, but Romulus simply rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Cute, but we have to leave, boy! Come on. You can flirt with the guy tomorrow.”

Lorenzo groaned and threw his head back, “Ugh! Let me be gay!”

“No.”

He gasped dramatically staring at his grandfather with the fakest pair of puppy eyes he or Francis had ever seen—which was really fake considering Antonio was king of the puppy eyes game, “I always knew you didn’t support my pursuit of men!”

“Boy, I am just as gay as you are, don’t start.” his grandfather shot back with a chuckle.

Antonio was stunned. He hadn’t known that about the Vargas family. No wonder he was the prized grandson; he truly was the image of his grandfather (albeit not as muscular).

Lorenzo laughed a little and shook his head. He looked to Antonio and shrugged. It wasn’t like he really had a choice. Antonio understood that and he understood that he respected his grandfather’s words.

“Tomorrow night?” he asked, grabbing his hand as he stood up to leave.

Lorenzo looked back at him with large eyes and a slightly opened mouth. It curved into a big, dorky, goofy grin and he nodded, “Tomorrow night. Don’t leave me hanging or I’ll have to hate Beauxbatons forever.”

“Aw,” Antonio smacked his leg with a faux look of disappointment, “Now I have to go.”

Lorenzo rolled his eyes, that smile still on his face despite his deepest attempts to bury it from sight. he waved him goodbye and ran off with his grandfather who appeared to be cheering him on. Antonio watched them laugh and push each other as they left, Lorenzo chasing his grandfather after he said something that Antonio assumed was embarrassing from the way he put his hand to his heart.

As he watched them leave, he felt like a large spell finally released him. He was no longer in this moment of sublime where the sky was filled with reds and oranges and the simple words that were spoken shook him to the core. Now it was reality where the sky was dark, people were leaving, and all there was to prove that Lorenzo had ever existed and had not been a figment of his imagination was the ink on his arm.

“So,” Francis stepped in sitting next to him, “You’re flirting with the enemy.”

“Hell yeah, I am.”

The two friends walked out and Antonio thought about the warm feeling in his stomach that spreading to every other part of him. For once, he wasn’t a poor kid nor was he someone with no opportunity to find someone to love. He was Antonio and he was flirting and he was content.

A million little thoughts of what could happen and the things that could develop swarmed through his mind. He took one last look behind them to Lorenzo who was still chasing his grandfather and smiled. Yes, he liked this guy and he couldn’t wait for their date.

“Wait, who won the game-?”

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