“Non vedo l'ora di conoscerti. Fai presto ed esci.”
You lean your head on your hand, elbow resting on the arm of the couch, as, with your other hand, you run your fingers through Lovino’s soft hair. You listen to him muttering to your rounded belly in Italian and smile. As he’s speaking, you pick up on something he says.
“Si, bella?” he says, looking up at you.
“…You can’t keep doing that.”
He looks confused, “What?”
“Calling the babies ‘Tomato one’ and ‘Tomato two’.”
He blushes slightly, “H-how did you--”
“I’m not stupid, Lovino. I know what it is in Italian. …Look, I know it’s only an affectionate name for the babies but seriously, can we just--” you sit up a bit and reach forwards to the coffee table, picking up the baby names book, “Here. We’ve been putting it off for so long now. We can’t call the babies Tomato one and two when they’re born.”
“Why? There’s nothing wrong with ‘Tomato’,” he tells you with a smirk, but he takes the book from you anyway and sits back, opening it up.
“Lovi, if we call one of the kids ‘Tomato’, I’m sure he or she will be made fun of forever.”
“Not with me as their papa, they won’t,” he says quietly. Okay, so maybe you can agree with him on that one. As you think about it, you can picture two children hiding behind their grumpy father whilst he is yelling abuse at someone else loudly, embellishing his sentences with his favourite curse words.
“Either way, that’s not an option. Please, take a look? …I liked (Italian girl name).”
“…It’s pretty, but… I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem right. Why Italian, anyway?”
You shrug, “I dunno. I thought it might be nice. …There was also (name you like).”
Lovino scowls, “I don’t think so, ________.”
“See, this is the other problem we have! Can’t you just decide on something? It’s just going to keep going back and forth between us until one of us gives up. I’d also rather keep it between us without asking anyone.” You remember asking Ludwig the other day and Lovi just got angry at you for asking and him for making a simple suggestion. It’s still a little dramatic, him still being so angry at Ludwig all of the time. You’re not even sure what he did to make Lovi hate him so much.
“You don’t need to ask any of those idiotas…”
“I only had to because the exact same thing would have happened then! If you’re not going to suggest anything and just get mad then I’ll just choose something or I’ll have to ask our friends…”
“Perché non lo vai chiedere à quel bastardo di patate?” he grumbles, crossing his arms and sitting back again, dropping the book onto the couch.
“I said, why don’t you just ask that damn potato bastard, huh?! You fucking listen to him and take anything he suggests!” Lovino gets to his feet, growling curse words in Italian to himself.
“Lovino, I didn’t--”
“No! You’ll take any other suggestions then mine, especially if it’s his! Why don’t you just fuck off and live with him and my little brother and you’ll all be happy with my kids!”
“Lovi, don’t you think you’re being a little--”
“I’m not being anything! If that’s how you want to do things then that’s fine!” he yells, finding his keys in his pocket.
“Where are you going?!”
“To Toni’s! Is that okay? Or do I need to ask the Potato bastard’s permission seeing as his opinion is the only one that matters around here!” And with that, he’s out the door and to his car. You sigh. You’re not worried, of course. He’ll realise that he over-reacted at, well, nothing and come home. You’re not even mad, because that’s just how Lovino acts.
“Your papa will be back later with an apology,” you tell the babies, rubbing your belly gently, “The way things are going… well, what do you two think of Tomato?”