Winter, 1943

A village in Italy

.

"You are back in town, Spaniard."

Antonio felt a wave of sick, cold fear roll through his gut. He glanced up sharply, then let out a short sigh of relief. The Turk stared down at him reflectively, that familiar smirk on his lips, that customary red fez perched on his head. He looked pointedly at the chair opposite, and Antonio gave a quick nod.

"So." The Turk sat heavily, leaning back easily in the chair. "We're gonna make this quick. Not a good idea for me to be seen here, you know."

Antonio nodded and took a long sip of wine to calm his nerves. This constant anxiety was starting to wear on him. The unfamiliar feeling was far too common these days, now that too many people in this small village knew his face. "I understand. Though you realise it is far more dangerous for me to be seen at the Cantina Rosso, my friend." Antonio replaced his wine on the table then offered to pour a glass for the Turk, who, as always, shook his head.

"Why else would I trudge to this side of town?" The Turk glanced disdainfully around the nearly empty front room of the Cantina Verde. "I always did prefer red to green."

Antonio raised an eyebrow. "Really? And here I thought your favourite was gold." He tossed a small, rattling bag on the table. The Turk quickly inspected the contents before putting the bag in his pocket.

"You see, this is why I like working with you, Spaniard." The Turk grinned. "You understand the absurdity of paper notes."

Antonio laughed softly. It was so easy to work with people whose only loyalty was to money. Easy but dangerous, considering the amount the Germans were willing to pay to get their hands on Antonio. "The lira is worthless right now. I'd never insult you with it." He leant forward slightly, a tiny, shrewd smile on his lips. "Don't forget that."

The Turk seemed to understand. "I'd be a fool to turn you over to the Germans. Why work for one side when you can work for both?" He shrugged, as though to suggest the absurdity of the suggestion. "But, to business. With the nearby German airbase, it was only a matter of time before the Americans joined our little party. Here." The Turk pulled a thick bundle of string-tied paper from his jacket, placed it on the table, and pushed it towards Antonio. "Transcripts of orders from top American Air Force personnel and maps of projected landing sites. The Americans are going to want to cause as much damage as possible while they have the element of surprise."

"Of course," muttered Antonio, briefly flicking through the papers. "This is what I've been trying to obtain information on..." An American air fighter unit currently based in London, a projected landing south at Anzio... yes, this was just the material he needed to pass on to Roma. Antonio had worked tirelessly on this one mission for weeks - after all, he needed a reason to return to this village. "Now, we know the Americans are landing soon, but we need a way for them to destroy the German airbase and its most dangerous personnel in one swoop."

"Leave that to me, my friend." Antonio glanced up from the papers and the Turk grinned deviously. "I'll find something out. And the moment I do, I'll inform you."

Antonio narrowed his eyes in a brief moment of suspicion. "You wouldn't give the Germans this information, would you?"

The Turk leant back and laughed wildly. "And lose your regular gold donations? Did I not just say that would be foolish? No, Spaniard, you would do well to forget such suspicions. I do suggest, however, that you send someone other than yourself to meet me next time. Someone... innocent looking. You are far too recognisable in these parts nowadays." A calculating gleam appeared in his eyes. "I have to wonder why you return insistently to this one little village when the danger is so great for you."

Antonio shrugged nonchalantly. "I am recognised in many places. My work is as important here as anywhere." But the Turk was right. It was too dangerous for Antonio to be in this village, he knew that. And yet the longer this war drew on and the greater the danger became, the more Antonio felt himself drawn here. To the one place and the one person that mattered.

The Turk did not look convinced. "Some would say you are needed more in the south these days. Roma Vargas runs the resistance in this town as though it were an army unit. He does not require your constant assistance."

"Roma is always grateful for my assistance," said Antonio curtly, eager to drop this line of conversation. He folded the papers and placed them in his bag. "And I am sure he will be grateful for this information."

The Turk nodded, though there remained a knowing, faintly amused look in his eye. "Be careful on your way out of town. There are German patrols on the roads lately."

Antonio did not worry about that. He knew the back roads by now – he knew his way to Lovino's farmhouse. "I will be in town until the landings. I doubt, however, we will meet again." He stood quickly, excitement building in his chest when he finally allowed himself to think of where he was heading. There was no point denying it. Lovino was the real reason Antonio was here; Lovino was the reason he was risking everything. As he headed quickly for the door, Antonio barely heard the Turk speak behind him.

"Good luck, Spaniard."

.

Lovino slammed the bag of flour onto the kitchen bench and spun around to face Feliciano. His silly brother let out a tiny squeak and took a step backwards. Lovino scowled. "What is that irritating tune you've been humming all afternoon?"

Feliciano just scratched his head with that dim, blank look of his. "Huh? Oh." He shrugged. "It's not irritating, it's pretty." Then he continued humming it as he cheerfully filled the fruit bowl with tomatoes.

Lovino nearly growled in annoyance. Feliciano had arrived late to the Resistenza meeting at the cantina, bounced in and waved like a fool, then simply sat at the back of the room playing with the wireless radio. It was unacceptable. When would Feliciano realise the seriousness of this situation? When would he stop acting like a silly little child and getting away with it? And when would he stop humming that ridiculous song? "It's stupid," said Lovino. "Stop it. Stop it now."

Feliciano pouted and whined, "But Lovino..."

"You need to take things a little more seriously, Feliciano." Lovino could not keep the frustration from his voice. He knew he was probably overreacting, but he hadn't been able to control his frustrated emotions lately. It was now almost a month since he had last seen Antonio. One month since the infuriatingly wonderful Spaniard had held Lovino close as they danced, since he had touched Lovino's tears and said he would wait forever. One lingering, unchanging month that had felt like an eternity and passed like a lifetime. Lovino still felt unworthy, still felt confused. He felt lost in the resistance, always kept from doing anything worthwhile for the cause. But above all, Lovino felt painfully lonely, and painfully sad. So now, he couldn't help feeling irrationally angry that Feliciano could act so damn happy and carefree. "You can't just spend important meetings like that sitting and singing along to the radio. This isn't a game. You need to be serious, like me and Grandpa." Lovino suddenly jumped when a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.

"What's all this I hear about being serious?" Grandpa Roma placed a bag of oranges on the bench, that same dopey grin on his face that Feliciano always wore. Lovino gritted his teeth and glared. Just what he needed - his grandfather acting stupidly cheerful as well. "Don't listen to your brother, Feliciano, he's far too serious for his own good. And you have a beautiful voice, just like your Grandpa!" Lovino tried to respond angrily, but Roma raised a hand. "Try this one..." And then the bastard started singing. Feliciano laughed, clapped joyfully, and of course, joined in. Lovino immediately put his hands over his ears.

*"La donna è mobile, Qual piuma al vento, Muta d'accento - e di pensiero."

"Grandpa, don't be ridiculous!" Lovino silently cursed Verdi, backed away from his embarrassing family, and prepared to flee. Sometimes he honestly wondered if he was related to these people... "I mean it!"

Feliciano giggled, Roma kept that stupid smile on his face, and they both raised their voices as they advanced menacingly on Lovino.

"Sempre un amabile, Leggiadro viso, In pianto o in riso, - è menzognero."

"STOP!" Seriously, did they even know how absurd they looked? Lovino looked around desperately for an escape, only to be impeded as Roma stepped in front of him and placed a cooking pot on his head. Of all things... but Lovino was not going to laugh, damn it. This was not funny, this was childish and ridiculous and... "Go away! Stop it! Leave me alone! You're both crazy and I'm leaving this family!"

"La donna è mobil'. Qual piuma al vento, muta d'accento - e di pensier!"

Lovino finally managed his getaway. He dodged around his childish brother and preposterous grandpa, charging across the kitchen as they gave chase still singing that infuriating canzone. Fighting the laughter rising in his chest, Lovino threw open the kitchen door, ran into the front room, and immediately froze. An icy hot shudder ran down his spine. The blood drained from his face, his breath stopped short, and his heart stuttered a wild, frantic convulsion in his chest. Antonio just smiled back at him from the front doorway. His green eyes sparkled in amusement; his lips held back a burst of laughter. Lovino's cheeks burned with embarrassment. He pulled the pot from his head and scowled angrily. "What are you looking at, bastard?"

"Antonio!" Roma rushed across the room, smiling joyfully, and threw his arms around Antonio warmly. "Ah, thank the good Lord! I was hoping to see you soon!"

"Greetings, Roma!" said Antonio happily. "It's good to see you!" Despite himself, Lovino felt his heart tug at his chest when he realised how tired Antonio looked. He must have been travelling far, and working hard. Lovino suddenly wondered what it would be like if he could walk over to Antonio and take the pack from his shoulder, lead him to the couch, sit beside him, hold him and kiss him and laugh with him... Lovino shook the startling, intruding image away. And he'd thought he was getting so good at ignoring his feelings.

"Antonio!" cried Feliciano, running across the room and jumping excitedly. "Did you bring me a present? Huh, huh, did you?" Antonio laughed and ruffled Feliciano's hair. Lovino folded his arms and scowled, irritated and strangely jealous.

"Of course I did, Feli! This time I have..." Antonio left a dramatic pause before reaching into the large bag slung over his shoulder and pulling out a soccer ball. Feliciano gasped loudly and snatched it from Antonio's hands.

"Yes! Perfect! I lost my last one, actually Lovino lost it, and it's been impossible to find a new one and I've actually been wanting one of these lately because..." Roma slapped Feliciano over the back of the head. "I mean, uh, thank you, Antonio!"

"You're welcome, Feliciano! And I have something special for Lovino!"

Lovino felt his bones freeze. Antonio smiled across the room brightly, enticingly, so warm and kind and good, his messy brown curls slightly too long and his deep green eyes so intense and...

"Lovino, my dear boy!" Roma's words shook Lovino from his transfixed stupor. "Stop being a rude little bastard and get over here."

Lovino remembered himself and plastered a scowl on his face, walking slowly across the room with his arms still folded. He stopped just before Antonio, so close he could touch him, so close he could smell him... Antonio reached into his bag and pulled out a small red object. He tossed it into the air, caught it, and held it out with a flourish, his eyes sparkling with that bright, familiar mischief. Lovino stared curiously at the round object in Antonio's hand.

A tomato. A tomato? The bastard had given Feliciano a soccer ball, and all he had for Lovino was a piece of fruit! After all these weeks, after everything... "A fucking tomato?" Lovino winced as Grandpa Roma smacked him over the back of the head.

"Watch your manners, young man."

Lovino almost forgot the blasted tomato. First he was caught with a pot on his head, now his grandpa chastised him like he was eight years old. Could this situation possibly get any more humiliating? Lovino rubbed his head and glared at Roma angrily. "Why would I want a stupid tomato, Feliciano bought a bag of them today."

"Don't be impolite, and take the tomato."

"I don't want the tomato!"

"Take the fucking tomato, Lovino!"

Lovino snarled and snatched the stupid tomato. However, instead of the soft fruit he expected, the small object in his hand was actually hard and smooth. Lovino felt his brow wrinkle in confusion, then glanced up quizzically at Antonio. The bastard simply winked.

Roma spread his hands apologetically. "Antonio, a thousand apologies. I love my grandsons to death but they can be such rude little shits."

Lovino's neck flushed angrily, but Antonio just laughed and clapped Roma on the back. "Please, Roma, there is nothing to apologise for. It is I who should be apologising for the delay in my arrival. The travel routes have become so difficult in the last few months."

Lovino felt apprehensive at the words. It was just as Roma had been saying in meetings lately – that the military presence around the village had been increasing, that times were growing more perilous. Again, Lovino was reminded of just how dangerous Antonio's work was. Feliciano barely seemed to notice the conversation, gazing at his soccer ball with some silly, far-off look in his eyes. Roma just waved a hand dismissively. "Of course, of course, I understand this. I expect you have information for me?"

Antonio nodded. He and Roma made their way to the large central table, spreading pages of documents from Antonio's bag across the surface. Feliciano bounced over to the couch by the staircase, tossing his ball from hand to hand, but Lovino stayed where he was. Familiar, unpleasant anxiety rolled in his stomach, rose in his chest. He had to know what this information was; had to know just how much Antonio was risking.

"Finally, I've been given information directly from the Americans," said Antonio. He passed a small pile of papers to Roma, who immediately began rifling through them.

"Landing positions," muttered Roma. "I knew that German airbase would bring trouble."

Antonio shrugged. "Of course it was only a matter of time before the Americans wanted this village. What we need now is a plan for them to bring down a large chunk of the occupying military before the inevitable battle. The Germans are spread too thin throughout Italy – they do not have the resources to send immediate support."

"Have you any plan?"

Antonio ran a hand wearily through his hair. "I have someone working on it. But Roma, more than anything else, this is vital." Antonio placed his hand over the papers and fixed Roma's eyes in an intense, solemn stare. "This information must be kept from the Germans. They absolutely must not know about the landing."

Lovino let out a long, silent breath, anxious and uneasy. He went and sat heavily on the couch beside Feliciano, turning the smooth, solid tomato over in his hands. Feliciano reached for it immediately, and Lovino snatched it out of the way.

"Lovino!" Feliciano whined childishly. "Let me see, what is it? It's not actually a tomato, is it?"

"No." Lovino carefully inspected the strange gift from Antonio. "It's hard, like it's made of glass or something." He shook it and it rattled slightly. There seemed to be something inside. Just what did Antonio mean by giving him some sort of glass puzzle? "I think you can open it, but I can't work out how."

"Oooh." Feliciano sounded fascinated. "Why did Antonio give you something terrific like that?"

Lovino scoffed. "Terrific? I don't even know what it is!" Lovino held the object to his ear and shook it again. Yes, there was definitely something inside. He burned to know what it was. Antonio and his stupid little games... didn't he know how much Lovino hated to be kept in the dark? "Stupid Spaniard. This is going to drive me crazy."

Feliciano shrugged, quickly losing interest, and focused again on his soccer ball. Lovino ran his hands gently over the glass tomato, occasionally glancing over at where Roma and Antonio poured over the table of documents. It was obvious how dangerous things were becoming for Antonio. If the Germans discovered his presence in the village, he would be captured, tortured for information... killed. It was becoming so hard for Lovino to reconcile these warring emotions. As hard as he tried, he simply could not deny how drawn he was to Antonio. He could not ignore how much he missed Antonio when he was away, how desperate he was to be with the Spaniard when he returned. Just watching the man now across the room - his face handsome and intent as he talked, his body strong and graceful as he moved - Lovino's chest ached with desire simply to touch him.

But he was still scared. He was scared, because as the months drew on, the more Antonio travelled and learnt and involved himself in confidential military matters. The more the danger against him increased; the more wanted and hunted he became. While at the same time, the more Lovino felt these walls around his heart start to crumble. And the more likely it became that he would be hurt.

It took Lovino a moment to realise he was staring at Antonio, and a further moment to realise that he was staring back. Lovino's heart flipped into his throat. But before he could think how to react, Antonio gave him a tiny smile, and winked. Lovino nearly choked. What did the stupid Spaniard think he was doing? Grandpa Roma was right there! Lovino tried to look unimpressed, rolling his eyes as he looked away. He was not going to smile. He was not going to acknowledge this warm, bright glow that swelled in his chest and tingled down his neck. He was not going to smile, damn it!

Lovino almost sighed with relief when Roma and Antonio stood from the table and traded a few more documents, their short conversation over. Lovino and Feliciano stood immediately to join them. "I will be in town for a few weeks, Roma, so I will keep you informed," said Antonio, thrusting a handful of papers messily into his bag.

Lovino's stomach jumped. A few weeks... He was both terrified and overjoyed at the thought.

Roma smiled as he answered, "Yes, yes. Please come around whenever you are free. Our home is your home, my friend."

At those words, Lovino's stomach turned in circles. Come around whenever you are free... He swallowed heavily. That would be terrible, that would be wonderful, that would be...

"Of course I will!" Antonio smiled brightly and it lit up his eyes, his face, the entire room... Lovino raised his eyes to the ceiling and let out a very long breath. Oh, he didn't think he could do this much longer. His chest ached jealously when Antonio pulled Feliciano into a hug. "Stay safe, Feli."

"Visit soon, Antonio!"