A pale dash of sunlight barely crept its way through a thin window, illuminating bleached wooden floorboards.  A singular birdcall echoed though the trees, barely beginning to reveal  their strikingly bold emerald leaves.

Inside the window, a pair of piercing blue eyes watched the dove settle on the olive tree outside.  It was curled up in an assortment of sheets and pale blue covers, and it was barely sitting up, watching the world with an inquisitive gaze.

Its head was propped up by one hand, and the other was barely trailing over the sheets, as if the figure was in thought.  The slightest ghost of a smile touched its lips and its mussed, mocha hair only added to the appearance of an eccentricly gentle persona.

Carefully, so as not to disturb the bird by the windowsill, the character carefully stood, brushing aside its cocoon of blankets.  The bird didn't notice, only singing its lilting song as the person began to carefully step across the floorboards on bare feet towards the thin slit of light on the far wall.

"Saluti, uccello grazioso."  Whispered the low and quiet voice.  "Cosa ti porta qui oggi?"

(Hello little bird.  What brings you here today?)

The bird tipped its small, white head, its feathers barely fluffing up as it watched the human approach.  The human wasn't all that scary.  His jaunty, laid back smile and tentative footsteps made sure of that.

The man made his way all the way to the window, only three inches away from the dove.

"Sei venuto a svegliarci, piccola colomba?  Gratzie."  The man carefully turned, observing the layout of the room behind him.

(Have you come to wake us, little dove?  Thank you.)

It was a simple place, but refreshing nonetheless.  Apart from his bed, there was a nightstand at its base, covered with scraps of loose paper and a few trailing flower petals.  On the opposite side of the wall, there seemed to be a definite difference in decoration taste.  The only neat thing on the other side of the room was the clean and definite line in which separated the two halves.  That aside, and the two halves were symmetrical, with a similarly sized bed on the other side and a nightstand cluttered with letters and other reminders.  In the bed, pillow pulled over its head, was another figure, snoring softly.

The man by the window chuckled softly, looking back to the bird.

"Sembra che mio fratello abbia un disperato bisogno del tuo servizio, colomba."

(It appears as if my brother is in dire need of your services, dove.)

The man shrugged, turning back to the sleeping figure.

"Poi di nuovo, è sempre un po' come questo.  Non so come possa dormire così. È una giornata bellissima oggi a Firenze."

(Then again, he's always kind of like this.  I don't know how he can sleep like that.  It's a beautiful day in Florence.)

The bird, surprised by the man's quiet demeanor, hopped onto the windowsill, near his fingers.

"Eppure, si dovrebbe sapere che meglio di qualsiasi altra cosa, non è vero?"

(Yet, you would know that better than anything else, wouldn't you?)

Shaking his head, the quiet man stepped away from the window, causing the little bird to flutter its wings in surprise.  The human walked over to the other's bed, careful to step over any clutter, and bent over the snoring being.  The man looked back to the bird, putting a finger to its lips.

"Prometti di non dirlo, uccellino?"

(Promise not to tell, little bird?)

The dove only looked at the man with bright black eyes, as if expecting him to try and shoo it away.

The man smiled and looked down at the figure.  Then, his fingers trailed to the covers, gently getting a grip on the soft folds.

"Uno..."  It whispered.

(One...)

The man lowered himself into a stronger position.  The bird shifted, hopping back and forth on the window.

"Due..."

(Two...)

Now, the human looked at the bird, its peacock eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Tre!"  It shouted, giving a strong yank on the sheets in which it held.

(Three!)

There was a yelp of surprise from the figure in the sheets and a shout of giddy excitement from the antagonist.  Together, in a mess of sheets and limbs, both humans fell to the floor, the first one laughing the whole time.

The bird, surprised by this sudden noise, fluttered away, leaving a pure white feather in its wake.  It was off to find someplace... less rowdy.

There was silence for a few moments.  Only the sound of quiet panting penetrated the silence.

Finally, a head shook itself free of the entangling covers.  It too, has bright, bold blue eyes and the same mischievously tousled rusty brown hair as the first.  The only difference: This one was not pleased at the rude awakening.  He looked up at his twin with slight dismay before flopping backwards onto an improvised pillow of papers and loose bedding.

"Oh Livano, solo un po' di più?"

(Oh Livano, just a little longer?)

The one who had knocked the second out of bed shook his head, looking at the ceiling, which was supported by thick planks of spruce and laid over with dark umber shingles.

"Martino, eri in ritardo se non ti avessi svegliato. Devi alzarti!"

(Martino, you were gonna be late if I didn't wake you up.  You have to get up!)

Now it was his brother's turn to look at Livano with a slightly irked expression.  Martino lifted a dark eyebrow.

"Era necessario letteralmente trascinarmi fuori dal letto, però?"

(Was it really necessary to literally drag me out of bed, though?)

Livano shrugged, looking his brother right back.

"Dipendeva da quanto tempo si stavano decidendo di essere un pigrone."

(Depended on how long you were deciding on being a lazybones.)

Before giving Martino a chance to answer, Livano stood, freeing himself from the sheets and pacing to the window.  Now he finally had an opportunity to look outside for the first time that morning.  The sun was playing on the tips of the leaves, making small reflections of green show on the white paint of the windowsill.  While the light tended to capture upon the bright, shining buildings in the center of the city of bustling Florence, Livano found it refreshing that he was the one to be able to look out on it from a larger viewpoint.  Out of town.  The birds began their daily calls again and the italian felt the refreshing feel of the new day wind brushing through his hair and into the room.

"Dai Martino, è una memorabile elegante a Firenze. Non credo che nemmeno tu voglia perderlo."

(Come on Martino, it's a memorably elegant day in Florence. I don't think that even you would want to miss it.)

Livano began to lean out of the window, partially supporting himself on the solid olive branch outside.  He felt halfway tempted to completely stand on the branch, but thought better of it.  After all, he was only in his nightclothes, and even though he trusted his ability to stay his balance, he didn't necessarily trust the strength of the young tree beneath him.  It was only a small tree after all, its leafy branches barely creeping past the second level window.

The sound of papers crumpling behind him and a few faint murmurs of Italian gave testament that Martino was coming up behind him.

"Se hai tempo per svegliarmi, non dovresti essere già al piano di sotto?"  Martino asked, rubbing last traces of sleep out of his eyes.

(If you have time to wake me up, shouldn't you be downstairs already?)

Livano looked back at his brother, eyes bright.

"Sai bene quanto me che il mio lavoro inizia solo quando la gente comincia a presentarsi."

(You know as well as I that my job only begins when people begin to show up.)

Livano's gaze set upon a small mahogany wardrobe in the back of the room.  Several outfits were hanging inside of it, on the handles, and even a few trailing on the floor.  There were assortments of fine suits, casual wear, and several uniforms, half of which Livano didn't care to recognize at the moment.

"Tu, comunque, hai un appuntamento. E non intendo solo con le signore. Tanto quanto si farebbe appre "

(You, however, have a date.  And I don't just mean with the ladies.  Much as you would appreciate.)

Livano's brother turned to gaze at the forlorn wardrobe and all of its contents.

"È... Venerdì... Ok?"

(It's... Friday... right?)

Livano nodded.  It was somewhat humorous to think that Martino had so many jobs, not even he could keep track of them all.  Then again, Martino worked late more often than not, and most times, he couldn't hold down a job for more than a few months at a time.

"Sì, è venerdi '.  Ma non hai ancora guardato fuori dalla finestra!  Ti lascio prendere un po' di tempo per farlo.  Non ho potuto sopportare per voi a perdere una bella vista!"

(Yes, it's Friday. But you haven't even looked out the window yet! I'll let you take a little time to do that. I couldn't bear for you to miss out on a lovely view!)

Martino looked back to Livano, nodding at him to assure him that he did indeed wish to see the view.  Livano moved to the side, drawing back the silky white curtains entirely so that the light would continue to glimmer in.  Martino approached the window, his own hair beginning to barely blow this way and that in the sharp gale.

It was silent for a few moments, the two siblings quietly looking out at the sun rising over the sparkling river and the city which was built on its shores.

After a few moments of quiet awe, Martino looked up at Livano, who was still admiring the bright hues of sunrise.  Even though Martino was the elder, somehow Livano had taken the lofty stature, even if it was only by a few sparse inches.  Livano, noticing his brother's gaze on him, looked away from the view to silently acknowledge Martino.

"Huh, Avevi ragione." Martino said, shrugging.

(Huh, You were right.)

Livano turned to completely face his brother, giving Martino a trademark cocked grin.

"Forse si dovrebbe ascoltare il vostro gemello più giovane più spesso?"  He asked in a mischievously joking manner.

(Maybe you should listen to your younger twin more often?)

Martino laughed, stepping away from the window softly, making his way to the closet and selecting a short sleeved white shirt and a pair of solid black pants.

"Chi dice che non ascolto a volte? A volte non ti ascoltano è per il meglio, giusto? Tutte le cose sono proporzionate in quel modo!"

(Who says I don't listen sometimes? Sometimes not listening to you is for the best, right? All things are proportioned in that way!)

Livano now noticed what his twin wore.  They were simple nightclothes, white texture with pale blue designs, but Livano recognized them as one of his own.

"Martin?"  He asked.

Martino turned, having about to leave the room.  He made no response, only lifting his eyebrows, waiting for Livano to continue.

"Indossi il mio pigiama... di nuovo?"  Livano asked, beginning to slightly fidget.

(Are you wearing my pajamas... again?)

Livano soon wasn't the only one who began to fidget.  Martino shifted his weight from side to side, and there was slight pinking on his cheeks which couldn't have derived from the rising sun.

Now Livano noticed just how awkward Martino looked in Livano's own clothing.  While the two brothers were almost the same height, "almost" was the key word.  That did not mean that they could just swap their wardrobes at will.  Since Livano was taller, the sleeves of the nightclothes were barely covering Martino's knuckles and the collar of the shirt drooped, barely revealing his collarbone and a bit of Martino's chest.  As well as this, the shirttail had more of the appearance of a nightgown, as Martino's vertical lacking caused the shirt to fall just over the top of his thighs.

Martino looked like someone once-tall who had suddenly shrunk over a few hours of sleep.

He looked like a clown, and Martino's crazed bedhead wasn't helping anyone either.

Despite himself, Livano let out a small crack of laughter, causing Martino to turn even pinker.  This in turn only increased the younger brother's high spirits.

"Sembri... come... un clown!"  Livano cried between breaths of gaiety.

(You look... like... a clown!)

Martino now had his day clothes in one hand and was rubbing the back of his head with the other.  His cheeks were still rosy and upon seeing his twin so jovial, he let out a snicker of his own.

"Smettila, Livano! Ora sei tu quello che mi distrae!"  Martino said, trying to steady his breathing once again.

(Knock it off, Livano!  Now you're the one distracting me!)

Livano's sudden giddiness wore off, slowly as it did, and as he silenced himself.  There was only the sound of the two siblings' subdued breathing in the room.

As if created to just interrupt, there was a sound of knocking at the downstairs front door.  Livano snapped towards the window.  A customer?  This early in the morning?  Had his small advertisements around Florence worked?

Martino was smiling, waving his thumb at the door.

"Forse ho detto ad alcune persone... Faresti meglio a prepararti. Non vorrei che tu tardassi..."

(I may have told a few people... You had better get ready. I wouldn't want you to be late...)

Livano looked at Martino for a few seconds, shocked.  Martino had found time to assist him?

"Anche tu lavori a tempo pieno. Forse non come me, ma il tuo lavoro è altrettanto importante, fratello mio."  Martino whispered, stepping from the door.

(You work full time too. Maybe not like me, but your job is just as important, my brother.)

Without another hesitation, Livano sprinted towards the bedroom door, pulling on a thin, long sleeved white shirt and snagging a similarly colored apron from the head of his bed.

He opened the spruce door and began to leave, but before he ducked out, he poked his head in again to come face to face with his brother.  Martino met his gaze evenly, those striking blue eyes barely glittering with some sort of enlightened smile.

"Grazie, Martino..."  Livano whispered.  "Non sai quanto questo significhi per me."

(Thank you, Martino.  You don't know how much this means to me.)

Martino made no response, only giving the very slightest of nods.  Finally, Martino ushered Livano out of the room, ruffling his younger brother's hair.

"Vai a prenderli, Liv."

(Go get them, Liv.)

With that, the door quietly clicked behind Livano, and he began to run downstairs, steep though the steps were, to the awaiting customer, the events of the morning only fueling his already excitable character as he approached the door.

...

Til' we meet again, Keep Rockin'

-Shamrockin13