Character(s) or Pairing(s): Fem!Romano, Fem!Spain, OCs, Romano/Fem!Romano/Spain/Fem!Spain
Summary: Lovina doesn't always get along with her mother, but they have their moments.
Notes: In the Six in One verse. Takes place within the timeline of Tunnel Vision.
It was time once again for the annual Vella family reunion, and since Lovina had avoided it the past three years, her mother had all but personally dragged her there, despite the fact that it was July, Lovina was uncomfortably six months pregnant, and she really couldn’t afford to be leaving the café for even a few days during their first summer. Her mother had asked, begged, demanded that she bring one of the boys, only one, because some of their distant relatives were there and they still didn’t know about the whole… arrangement… Lovina was in, and it really would make the whole thing go more smoothly.
She’d brought Antonia with her, naturally.
Though she was starting to wish she hadn’t gone at all, because no matter what Lovina’s mother insisted, the whole family ate up gossip faster than a homemade lasagne and after the standard hello, long time no see, kiss kiss, the first thing out of many of her relatives’ mouths was a hushed, “So which one is the father?”
“None of your damned business,” only went so far. She’d tried, “I don’t know,” on a second cousin, but all that got her was a pitying look and some advice on paternity testing. As if she needed that shit.
Her nonna (who wasn’t even a Vella, she was her mother’s mother, but she never said no to a party, no matter how awkward, apparently) spent part of the night telling everyone it was a virgin birth, which had to be one of the most hilarious things Lovina had ever heard, but at the very least Nonna Rumore’s wine-driven tales of immaculate conceptions kept the focus off Lovina and her tell-tale bump for a short while.
Which really should have been a long while, because soon enough, her mother was coming over to bother her as well.
“Lovina, there you are.”
“No I’m not.” Lovina attempted to turn around and walk in the other direction, but Lovina’s mother ignored the remark and wrapped her daughter in a hug. She may have been an overbearing bitch sometimes, but she could be affectionate just the same.
“You really need to stop being so rude to everyone when they ask you a simple question.” Oh fun. “Really, who is the father? Lovina, your child can’t grow up not knowing, you should reall—”
“No, Antonia,” Lovina repeated. “Antonia is the fucking father, stop asking me.”
Her mother pursed her lips. “Lovina…”
Antonia chose that moment to tear herself away from certain drunken grandmothers and join the conversation. “It’s true!” she said, wrapping an arm around Lovina’s waist. “And I will have you know,” she hiccupped a little. “I take my paternity very seriously, ma’am.”
“Antonia are you drunk?”
“What did my mother give you? Nevermind. Antonia, dear, you can’t be the father, Lovina is just being difficult.”
Antonia half-scowled, half-pouted, a look that made Lovina want to laugh despite the fact that Antonia was probably trying to be serious. Most likely. Her attempts usually failed. “I am,” Antonia insisted, despite the fact that this whole paternity thing had been made up by Lovina three seconds ago. “And I do not like your tone.”
“Maybe she should go lay down…”
“No.” Antonia shook her head insistently, stopping after a few seconds and stumbling into Lovina’s side slightly. “No no, you go lay down. You just don’t understand our love, I can be the father if I want.”
“Of course you can,” Lovina said, still trying not to laugh, now at the look on her mother’s face.
Lovina’s mother sighed and was about to speak, but a stray bit of conversation caught the three’s ears just before she could.
“If you ask me,” Lovina’s Aunt Agnese said loudly over by the wine table, clearly not caring who heard her. “It’s probably not either of those boys, Lovina’s always been a bit… loose, really.”
Lovina wasn’t sure who exactly struck first, all she knew was that in a matter of seconds, her aunt was flying into the table behind her, and both Antonia and her mother were shaking their fists out.
“The fuck did you just say about my daughter?”
Agnese spat at their feet as she got up, dripping in spilt wine and broken glass. “Nothing that isn’t true. Do you know how much this dress cost? I ought to— you bitch!”
Lovina could no longer contain her laughter when Antonia, straight faced as Antonia could be, smudged a piece of cake (when did she even get that?) onto the front of Agnese’s dress. Her laughter was short-lived, however, as her aunt lunged at Antonia and like hell Lovina was going to let that happen, but apparently she had nothing to be concerned about.
“Oomph.” The air was knocked out of Agnese ‘s lungs as Lovina’s mother shoved her against the nearest wall.
“Look,” she said between clenched teeth. “I may not always agree with the decisions my daughter makes, but if I ever, ever hear you say anything like that about her again, I am going to hunt you down and kick your ass.” With that, she dropped the other woman, dusted her dress off, grabbed Antonia by the elbow, and made her way back over to Lovina, who was once again cracking up.
“We do not talk about this again,” she ordered, taking Lovina by the elbow as well.
“Yes,” giggle. “Ma’am.”
“…Nice punch, Antonia. I think you gave her a black eye.”