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Now this was the life.

Feliciano yawned and stretched, feeling completely content for the first time in a long time. And why shouldn’t he be content? His belly was full, his body was warm and he was surrounded by beauty. He let his arms fall back against bed, sinking even deeper into the plush down comforter, it was like lying on a cloud and Feliciano let a small sigh of contentment as he lazily surveyed his surroundings. This was not his first visit to this particular place, but with every pass, Feli found something new to appreciate. It was hard to believe he was still in London, the little Italian mused as his eyes focused on a rather beautiful piece of Arabic calligraphy. The room was filled with such treasures, from the geometric mosaics, to the gorgeous Turkish rug that sprawled across the floor. No matter how bad a mood Feliciano was in when he arrived, this room never failed to put a smile on his face.

But perhaps it was less the room itself, but rather the owner. Sadik Adnan was certainly a hard man to stay upset around, as Feli had learned not more than four months ago. That day had been terrible, almost from the moment he’d woken up. First had been another threatening note from his landlord, then came an argument with his brother. To make matters worse, Luddi had texted him and canceled his table at the Bunker, meaning it was likely going to be another month before Feliciano was going to see his best friend. Feeling dejected, Feliciano had decided to go to his favorite café to pick up his spirits… only to find it packed. Any other time, he would have just shrugged it off and gone to find another place to relax, but that day had just been so terrible and this was just the last straw. Feliciano had just stood in the door, fighting tears and just trying to gather the courage to trudge back to his flat and burrow under the covers until his shift. But then came along came Sadik, armed with a roguish grin and a free chair.

What followed was easily the strangest hour of Feliciano Vargas’ life. Feliciano had certainly met some interesting people in his life, but he’d never quite met anyone like Sadik Adnan. He certainly loved to talk and they quickly bonded over their love of food and their hatred of British winters. But what amazed Feli was how little Sadik seemed to care about what he said—nothing seemed taboo to the man. He switched from food to politics to sex in an almost seamless fashion, gesturing emphatically through it all with surprising grace, considering his size. And just like that, Feliciano was hooked. They met often for drinks and debated the best dishes, Feliciano had brought the man to the Bunker and treated him to the finest mixed drinks on his menu, they went out and drank and danced, and before Feliciano even realized it, Sadik had become a regular part of his life.

Looking back, the Italian couldn’t quite place when the shift took place. One day they were simply friends, trying to one up each other’s cooking and competing over beautiful faces. And then the next… Feliciano frowned slightly at the thought, no longer seeing the beautiful artwork. Not that he didn’t like their situation, because he really really did—he just wasn’t sure what to call it. Despite his penchant for flirting with any beauty that crossed his path, Feli was not used to casual flings. Sure, he’d had the occasional one night stand, but he’d never repeated the experience with someone unless they were in a relationship.

And that was the complicated part… because Feliciano didn’t want to date Sadik, couldn’t afford to date anyone, really. And Sadik… Sadik had been very clear on his stance regarding relationships from the very beginning. So they were friends then… but if so, how long could they continue their arrangement? How long can one show up at a friend’s door, craving the warmth of another person and companionship before it’s no longer friendship? What happens then? Feliciano groaned and ran a hand over eyes, his head throbbing from trying to figure out the answer. He fell back against the plush, over-sized mattress, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of this beautiful, impossible room.

What did it matter? He reasoned, smiling to himself. It wasn’t like the assassin to be so worried about the future. If nothing else, Feliciano’s life didn’t allow for much long term planning. Working for the Underground was hardly what one would call stable living. There was always a sizable chance that Feli wouldn’t walk away from his next job. Death or imprisonment were constant predators and, deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time before he was in their clutches. But for now, for this moment, he was alive, he was happy, he was safe, and he wasn’t alone. Well… technically he was, at that very minute, alone. Sadik must have slipped out when Feli had been napping. At first the Italian was perfectly fine with waiting—the room offered plenty of distractions. But now he was starting to get impatient and Sadik was no where in sight. Feli pouted, reluctant to leave the bed just yet, but determined to find out where the older man had disappeared. He looked back to his clothes with a sigh, figuring that if he was to go searching for Sadik, he should at least have pants on.

He’d just buttoned up and was casting about for his shirt when he heard the door behind him. “Ah, there you are, Sadik! I was wondering if you were ever coming back!” He wanted to turn around, to give Sadik his best stern face (he’d been studying Luddi’s for inspiration), but he couldn’t wipe the brilliant smile off his face.

No matter what this was called, it was nice not to be alone.

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Feliciano couldn’t respond at first, feeling like he’d been blindsided with a mallet to his temple. “Marco….Marcello, is that really you?” Even as he spoke, Feliciano knew the truth. His half brother had certainly shot up since he’d last seen him and he’d certainly grown into those beautifully vibrant green eyes of his. He had no doubt that Marco turned plenty of heads with that warm smile and tousled hair. He’d thought about his half brother a lot since their last meeting, wondered what he had been up to—if he was happy. He’d even brought him up in conversations with Nonno, only to be side stepped. As he got older, Feliciano realized why his grandfather had been so hesitant to reconnect Marco with the rest of the Vargas family. With two members prominent in the police force and a third with questionable ties, there were plenty of enemies gunning for their family. It was just safer not to be tangled up with the Vargas name.

And yet, here Marco was, standing no more than two feet away from him. Judging by the look on his face, Marcello was just as shocked to run into family as Feliciano. There was a terse moment, the half brothers sat in silence, gaping at each other like a pair of fish. Finally, Feliciano shook his head to dispel the shock and replaced it with a brilliant smile, his original reason for entering the shop long forgotten. His little brother was there, was actually tangibly there. “Marco! I can’t believe you’re actually in London! What brought you here? It certainly wasn’t the weather.” As if to prove a point, the wind picked up, rattling against the windows. He rocked back and forth on his heels, debating his next move. He knew what he wanted to do, he just didn’t know if he had a right to.

“Ve… Marco, can I… maybe… get a hug?” He fiddled with the sleeves of his coat. He certainly didn’t have the right to ask for anything from his half brother, he certainly hadn’t done anything to ingratiate himself to the younger man. But then the other boy smiled and all worries vanished. Without worrying about the repercussions, Feliciano quickly rounded the counter to pull his half-brother into an exuberant hug. “Marco! I missed you so much! I never would have guessed you would be in London! And in a flower shop, no less! But… but it suits you! All of this, it really suits you!” He swept a hand over their cheerful surroundings and looked back to Marcello, eyes crinkled fondly. Even after all of his missteps and screw-ups, it was nice to know that at least one of his family wasn’t embarrassed or dismissive of him. Maybe…. If he was very very lucky… he might actually have someone who actually wanted to be family. “So!” He clapped his hands excitedly. “Tell me everything! How did you get here?”

made by MISSO for KAT

It really was a shame, wasting such a talent on such apathetic students. Feli got to his feet, eying the professor curiously. He was just so… young. If he didn’t know better, Feliciano would have put him more as a grad student… dressed in a pair of faded jeans with a mop of disheveled hair, he hardly looked like someone in charge of a class. But still, there was no denying the authority with which he spoke, the fear in which his students regarded him. It was obvious he had spent a long time studying the subject at hand, and Feli could tell it was far more than just a job for the man. His interest in the professor only grew as the talk went on and Feliciano prayed that that he wouldn’t just up and leave when he was done. He hoped to get a chance to talk to the brunette, and so the Italian waited, listening patiently as he wrapped up the lecture and dismissed the students. Luckily, the man seemed to in no hurry once the students dispersed, and Felicano seized his chance. He smiled and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, his amber eyes sparkling with the promise of an interesting conversation.

“Ve… mi scusi,” he began, moving closer towards the column and the man. “I couldn’t help but listen to your impressive discussion on the use of the Doric order columns.” He gestured to the piece with a smile. “Have you ever been to Paestum, in southern Italy? My grandfather took me once to show me the temples there. I loved the simplicity of the design, the clean lines—everything just looked so crisp and dramatic!” He beamed, lost in the memory of it as his hands glided through the air, unable to contain his excitement. When was the last time he’d found someone to discuss art or history with? Someone who did more than simply tolerate his excitement over form and function and style, someone who was eager to join in and discuss the finer points of architecture with the young Italian. Perhaps, he’d found just that person. “I’ve always loved Doric columns… but… the corner conflict has always bothered me. The asymmetry just feels so… jarring, especially given how much emphasis they put into symmetry elsewhere.” He smiled apologetically and looked back to the man.

“Ah, sorry,” Feliciano said, running his hand through his hair, his auburn hair falling back into his eyes stubbornly. He turned to give the professor his full attention, still smiling. “I never introduced myself, did I? So rude…I hope you’ll forgive me. My name is Feliciano Vargas, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” He held out a hand eagerly.

Today was going to be a good day. Feliciano looked over at his half brother with a warm smile. It had been so long since he had any time to just sit and catch up with Marco and now that they were both in London, he intended to make the most out of it. Despite his current relationship with most of his family, Feliciano treasured any time with them. Marcello, especially, understood his current feelings of isolation. Feliciano couldn’t imagine what it was like, not being surrounded by cousins and siblings and aunts and uncles. His heart went out to the younger man. (Although… given both his and Fratello’s interactions with organized crimes, Marcello might have dodged the figurative—and sometimes literal—bullet.) But today wasn’t about the past—today they were just two brothers, enjoying good food and each other’s company.

“You’ll really like here, I think,” he chattered away as they looked over the menu, gesturing excitedly with his free hand. “It’s the closest place I’ve found that serves authentic Italian food. Seriously. The first time I had their risotto I almost cried, it was so amazing! They hand make their pasta! None of that prepackaged garbage; I don’t know how anyone can eat that crap and call it Italian. It’s an insult!” He stopped, realizing too late that he was rambling again. He hated to admit it but he was a bit nervous now that they were sitting across from one another. He barely knew Marcello, had only learned about him just before he’d left for Uni, and he couldn’t help but wander what the boy thought of them, thought of their family. Did he resent them? Not that Feliciano could blame him… he was still treated as a secret, a shame that had to be hidden from sight. Feli’s own older brother had no idea that Marcello even existed. Felicano worried his lip for a moment before looking back to meet Marcello’s gaze. He smiled apologetically and laughed. “Ve… I didn’t mean to babble.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just so excited to finally have lunch with you. It’s so nice to share a meal with family, no?”

At the waitress’ words, Feliciano perked up, more than ready to order. “Ah! Thank you, Ms—“ he looked up and his smile froze on his face at the sight of her. It was like an explosion went off in his head. That’s impossible. That’s absolutely impossible. She couldn’t be here? What reason would she possibly have to leave her shaded position in the Underground to come here and play waitress. It had to be a mistake. But as he stared at her, the dread forming in his stomach confirmed his suspicion.

Sera Russo…

He’d been around violence for too long not to listen to his instincts. And every cell in his body screamed at him. He had always been afraid of her, even when they were kids. He’d never been able to put his finger on just what put him off, but something about her never failed to put him on edge. His fear had been confirmed nearly a year ago, when a chance encounter with her had nearly killed him. He might Seeing the look in her eyes only confirmed his worst fears—she was a lioness, sniffing out the weak and injured. And if she was back (and playing waitress) she had her prey in sight Nothing good would come of this.

Feliciano had to think very carefully about his options. If he’d been alone, it would have been all too easy to escape, or even strike before she could act on whatever plan she had in mind. But with Marcello there… blissfully unaware of the demon in their midst… He couldn’t let him discover the truth. But how else could he get them out safely?

“Thank you, Lola,” he finally managed, donning a pretty convincing smile as he fought the urge to go for his pistol. “Could I get a water with lemon?” He didn’t want to retreat just yet, not until he had a better idea of what she wanted. Sera may be cruel and vicious, but she was also cunning. She wouldn’t risk exposure for something minor. And until Feliciano could discern what she was after, he couldn’t risk showing vulnerability. For now, he had to play oblivious.

Luckily, he had plenty of practice.
made by MISSO for KAT