Chapter Text
“No. Absolutely not. No way in Satan’s fiery hell!” Secondo’s indignant spluttering started as soon as they passed under the welcome signs and into a car park large enough to be visible from space.
“Come fratello,” grinned Terzo from the driver’s seat. “Only you could be grumpy at the happiest place on earth!” He threw his arms wide, only to panic when the monstrous RV he’d hired swerved off the tarmac momentarily. Outside people were stopping to stare at the thing. Some of them actually pointed and from the corner of his eye, Secondo saw his other brother, Copia, slide lower in his seat.
Terzo had dubbed the vehicle - also their home for the summer - the Popemobile but that was where any comparison ended. It was all shiny chrome trim and rivaled the size of a bus, with an engine that rumbled louder than a jet plane. Lucifer only knew what it was costing them every time they had to fill up. Of course Terzo had picked this outlandish homage to excess.
Secondo looked pointedly at the grucifix rosary that swung wildly from the rear-view mirror thanks to Terzo’s erratic driving. “Only you would think it appropriate to bring three of the bloodline to the satanic papacy here!”
Honestly, the whole thing - this whole trip - was ridiculous.
***
Secondo’s plans for the summer before his last year at seminary focused around finessing his research and writing his thesis. Their elder brother, Primo, had recently ascended to become Papa Emeritus and, as next in line, Secondo felt the pressure to outshine his peers. Not that he lacked confidence in what he was sure were his very original and witty insights into 17th Century ritual magic.
Terzo was at the same stage in his own studies, but he hoped to take a decidedly more hands-on approach to his final summer of freedom and pick up where he’d left off with a certain trainee Sister of Sin…
So, both young men were surprised when, after arriving at the Ministry’s American headquarters, they were almost immediately sent away by a frazzled-looking Primo.
He joined them for breakfast in the family’s private chambers the day after their long flight from Italy. He was already significantly older than his brothers but nine months as Papa had aged him further, as well as blunted his tolerance for shenanigans. He looked forward to seeing his three brothers gathered around the table, really he did. It happened infrequently what with Secondo and Terzo studying in Italy and Copia would soon join them in the autumn. But sweet Lucifer, couldn’t they stop arguing for just one second?!
“Enough!” Primo hollered, banging his fist on the table hard enough to make the coffee pot and cups rattle. Three sets of mismatched green and white eyes blinked at him in shock. Their older brother was usually the calm voice of reason. “Stop bickering! You two!” He jabbed a finger in the direction of Secondo and Terzo. “You are on the verge of joining the Ministry and having actual responsibilities! You are both too old to be squabbling with your brothers! And you!” He turned his attention to Copia, whose teenage appetite had loaded his plate as if he were about to compete in an Iron Man contest. “Put some of that bacon back! We all have to share, eh?”
There was a beat or two of awkward silence while he took a long draught from his glass of orange juice, followed by mumbled apologies.
“Er, good day yesterday then, fratello?” smirked Terzo. He studiously refused to meet the death glare Secondo directed at him over the eggs.
“No, Terzo, it was not,” Primo sighed, deciding they were old enough for a realistic glimpse of their birthright. “The senior Clergy officials, the cardinals…they have been most difficult to deal with of late.” That was an understatement. How he was going to manage the current ecumenical crisis while keeping an eye on his elderly father and his brothers’ horseplay over the summer, he had no idea.
Secondo immediately sat more upright in the wooden dining chair, desperate to help and show his worth. “What’s the problem, fratello?”
He sighed as he buttered a piece of toast. “It’s hard to lead the direction of our church, to steer the faithful in their devotions to the Dark Lord, when those who make the decisions have little idea of how our followers actually live. How they spend their day-to-day lives. You’ll find out one day,” he said, chewing thoughtfully.
It was then that Primo caught sight of them in the ornate mirror that hung over the large stone fireplace. What he saw was a scene from a gothic novel. They all wore their clergy robes, of course, the design of which had been passed down through the centuries. The room was furnished with carved antique pieces, upholstered in red velvet, and the table where they ate was lit by candelabras. With actual fucking candles. Unless one was trying to romance someone, what business did candlelight have at the dining table in this day and age? Oh, they could sit here and grumble about the unworldly cardinals but were they really any better?
“Is everything OK, Papa Primo?” asked Copia, noticing how the slice of toast hung suspended between his eldest brother's plate and mouth.
Primo looked around the table at his brothers. These boys were the future of the church. They were accomplished in their devotions and sin in their own ways…stubborn, priggish Secondo. Terzo, who could - quite literally - charm the pants off any willing Sibling of Sin. Even shy, awkward Copia had his moments. But they were so sheltered. How would they connect with a world they knew so little about? How would they spread their message to people outside of their walls, especially now that they’d moved their main base to the US?
There was one thing he could do. He wasn’t sure how the Clergy or his father would take it, and he had a strong suspicion it would cause him many sleepless nights, but he had to take a risk. And, if nothing else, it would get them out of his hair for a while.
“You don’t have to call me that, Copia,” Primo said kindly but firmly. “Not here in private. And yes, everything is - or will be - fine. Right, let’s finish here and then we need to find a computer. We have some plans to make.”
***
The three young men looked down the artificial Main Street to Cinderella’s castle. They may have shared the same eyes, a gift from their father, but their expressions couldn’t have been more different.
Terzo clasped his hands together in childish glee, hopping about in the flip-flops he’d chosen to go with the artfully distressed denim shorts and fitted white tank top he wore. His eyes had lit up when Primo had handed over the little black credit card and tasked him with kitting them out with some normal, “inconspicuous” clothes for the summer.
He hadn’t quite succeeded.
Copia was perhaps passable. His pale blue board shorts and t-shirt might have allowed him to achieve his most ardent desire to make himself as unnoticeable as possible, had he not been lugging the neon red backpack Terzo had tossed at him. If he was truthful, the youngest brother found the noise and the sheer amount of people swirling around him hugely unnerving, and the backpack only seemed to act as a homing beacon for the retina of every passer-by.
But their eyes were quickly drawn from the backpack to Secondo. He’d been horrified to open his own suitcase and find it stuffed with nothing but bright, tropical-patterned shirts. Being taller and broader than either of his brothers, he’d had no choice but to put on one of the least objectionable ones - a pink number decorated with a flamingo and palm tree motif. From the way the Floridian sun beat down on them, he suspected the sensitive skin around the widow’s peel peak of his hairline would soon match the shirt.
“Lucifer below, it’s so…so…wholesome!” The elder of the three gasped in morbid fascination. It had taken more than 20 minutes to persuade him from the RV and even then he’d only left because the lack of air conditioning turned the vehicle into an oven. “I am definitely going to need a drink!”
He made to stroll off but Terzo grabbed him by the wrist. “Fratello, it’s 10 in the morning. Too early, even for you, eh? Anyway, there’s no booze in Disney World!”
“Do you mean to tell me,” Secondo began, his tone acidic, “that I have to deal with all of this…” he waved his hand in a circular gesture, seeming to grasp for the right word but gave up when he failed to find it. “This? Without anything to take the edge off?”
A cheery chorus of the Mickey Mouse Club theme song began to blast through the PA system and the vein in Secondo’s temple twitched.
“Si,” Terzo grinned with a shrug.
Secondo took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. Wordlessly, he stormed off, not caring where he ended up as long as it put some distance between him and his endlessly irritating younger brother.
“OK, we meet back here this afternoon for the parade, si?” Terzo yelled at his retreating form. He turned to Copia. “Heh. His usual dramatic walk looks kind of funny without his robes, eh?”
Copia snorted. It was true. When he was mad Secondo frequently affected a way of moving to make the skirts of his cassock swirl theatrically around him. It was significantly less effective when he did it in chinos, his white legs testifying to all the time he spent indoors at his books.
“He’s right though, Terzo. How are we going to learn about sin here?”
Terzo scoffed as he ran his hand through his dark hair. “Well, sure, we could look in all the obvious places. But think how much more interesting it’ll be to find it here! The dark underbelly of Disney…” his voice trailed off. Copia realised his brother’s gaze was trained on a very curvaceous Tinkerbell.
The youngest brother tried to shake the image of her pert ass undulating in the fitted, green dress from his own mind. His brain felt like it had been marinated in hormones and slapped out to bake in the Florida heat. “So, er, do you wanna go find something to do? Terzo?”
Copia sighed as he briefly glimpsed his brother throwing his arm around Tinkerbell’s shoulders further up Main Street, before the crowd swallowed them.
***
Secondo felt significantly better now he had a coffee in hand and an outrageously expensive pair of aviators perched on his nose. The prices in the gift shop had been positively sinful.
He necked the rest of his coffee, spread his arms along the back of the bench where he sat and watched the crowds. Primo had been right, of course. They knew nothing about the people outside their church. This place, for instance. It was obviously engineered to cater to people’s every whim. Everything about it screamed happiness. So why did everyone look so fucking miserable? The air around him buzzed with a constant hummof fretful discontent as families squabbled and the kids…Satan below! Nearby, twin girls dressed in some sort of fairytale princess costumes were throwing a tantrum that would put Beezlebub to shame. It was enough to make him question his commitment to continuing the Emeritus bloodline.
Give him some old-fashioned cardinal sins any day over whatever all this was.
“Hey,” his brother’s voice interrupted him from his musings. “Terzo ditched me,” Copia said sheepishly. “Do you mind?”
Secondo scooted across to make room for him, doing a double take at the beverage he held. It was a vivid blue and in a cup large enough to bathe a baby in.
“It’s a Slurpee,” Copia explained in response to his aghast expression. “Want some?” The younger brother handed it over, also dropping the backpack to the floor with a thud.
They sat in comfortable silence for a bit, taking turns to give themselves brain freeze from the icy drink, until a distant commotion disturbed the relative peace.
Delighted shrieks and giggles burst from a veritable rainbow of silks and satins. A gaggle of princesses - as well as an incredibly enthusiastic Aladdin - batting their artificial eyelashes, flicking their equally synthetic hair, and blatantly ignoring the children they were employed to entertain by the good people of the Disney company. And at the centre of it all was…
“Terzo!” They groaned in unison, simultaneously recognizing his lithe form. In the hours since they’d last seen him, he’d acquired some pink, heart-shaped sunglasses and a set of Mickey Mouse ears, which were perched on his head at a jaunty angle. He was in his element, flirting, bowing and kissing the knuckles of the hands presented to him like a roguish Prince Charming.
“How does he do it?” gaped the younger brother, feeling the mild burn of jealousy mixing with the kilo of blue slush in his stomach.
“Damned if I know,” sighed Secondo, patting the sweat from his furrowed brow with a paper napkin. He’d had plenty of his own conquests at seminary, but Terzo was on a whole other level. People just…flocked to the skinny shrimp.
“Want to try the roller coasters or something?” Copia asked, eager not to witness this sickening spectacle any longer.
“OK. Anything in the shade, I’m sweating my balls off here.”
Copia leaned down to haul the backpack to his shoulders but Secondo’s voice stopped him. His elder brother was already walking away, calling over his shoulder. “Leave it. It’s Terzo’s. Let him deal with it.”
***
The queue for Space Mountain was endless, but at least it was mostly indoors and the retro imagining of “futuristic” piqued the same part of Secondo’s interest that allowed him to periodically indulge in the Star Wars movies.
“Have you ever been on anything like this before?” Copia asked as he swung his leg over into the car of the rollercoaster.
“Can’t say I have. Never really had the time. I must admit, I’m quite intrigued. You?”
“A few times on some school trips. Here, you go in front. You’ll see more.” They took a moment to manoeuvre themselves into the car and allow the ride operator to check their lap bars.
The ride shot them into darkness and neither of them could contain their squeals. It felt like they’d left their stomachs back at the station. Secondo hadn’t really thought much about how the ride might feel - he’d seen children getting on it after all - but once he started to relax into it he realised that he had been nervous. Over and over they twisted through an intense darkness with only the occasional flashing light to show them the direction of the rollercoaster.
Secondo let himself relax and enjoy the exhilaration of it.
He wasn’t sure when the feeling morphed from delighted thrill to disorientating nausea, but it was swift. One moment he was enjoying the air whistling past him, the next he felt his skin burn and his muscles contract with shivers. He moaned and held his face in his hands, trying to ignore the speed and motion. The saliva that pooled in his mouth told him he only had seconds before being reacquainted with his breakfast.
Time seemed to slow so he could watch - frame by frame - as the bright blue contents of his stomach somersaulted through the air and covered himself, the car and his brother.
He was still retching when they pulled into the station to a chorus of cheers and snickers from the waiting crowd. Their church wasn’t particularly big on shame as a concept but it wasn’t like Lucifer had been covered in his own vomit at the moment he was cast from the heavens. Secondo doubted he would ever be able to overcome this particular humiliation. Behind him Copia whimpered, frozen in his seat, as they came to a stop.
The ride operator simply lifted the walk-in talkie to their mouth. “Control room, we got a code Rainbow here.”
***
He had to hand it to the staff, they’d been incredibly gracious as they directed him and Copia to a small block of changing rooms. As the shower washed the blue evidence of his shame down the drain Secondo began to feel more himself.
The staff had even given them a change of clothes, though he suspected they’d taken a fiendish pleasure in the Snow White and the Seven Dwarves shirts they chose for them. He smirked at Copia’s Bashful shirt. His own - Grumpy - was less amusing. Still, he supposed it was marginally better than flamingos.
“If you tell Terzo... No. If you tell anyone about this, I swear to Satan you won’t live long enough to start seminary in September,” Secondo growled in warning at his brother.
“I can assure you I’m as eager to forget this as you are,” Copia shuddered, rubbing his hair with a towel. “I had my mouth open!” He swore he could still smell faint notes of raspberry mingled with stomach acid,
They’d just emerged from the changing area when an urgent voice interrupted the incessant music on the PA system.
“Would a Mr. *pause* Seck…Seck…Seck-un-der? report to Guest services, please.” More confidently this time. “That’s Mr. Seck-undy-er to guest services, where your brother…Terry… is waiting for you.”
“Oh Lucifer in hell, what now?”
***
By the time his brothers arrived in the small office, Terzo had resorted to full-on Italian mode. His arms flailed and he punctuated every other word with his hands.
Secondo sighed. The discussion looked heated. “What the fuck, Terzo?” he fired at him in rapid Italian.
“Sir, are you this young man’s parent or guardian?” asked an officious-looking young man in crisp khaki. He’d used so much gel on his honey-blonde hair that it looked like it was made out of plastic and Secondo wondered how many times a day the guy had to shave to keep his cheeks that smooth.
“No, I’m not…” there was a beat while Secondo glanced down at the man’s very shiny name badge. “…Clark. I’m his brother.”
Clark looked between the two of them sceptically until he noticed their shared mismatched eyes. The white iris looked considerably more imposing in the older brother’s features. He hoped that meant he’d be able to exert some influence over the gesticulating Casanova in the corner.
“Well, in any case, I’m sorry to tell you that we found your brother, er…” he paused, unsure of what the family-friendly corporate-speak for ‘balls deep in a Disney princess’ might be. “…fraternising with Anna and Elsa.”
Copia huffed a laugh and Terzo momentarily smirked and preened at the attention until they both fell under Secondo’s icy glare.
“Come on, fratello. They were actual sisters,” he whined, also in Italian, flicking his head to dislodge his raven hair from his eyes. “How could I not? You would have done the same, I know it! I caught you that time in the library…”
“You stronzo, that was not the same and you know it! This is a family place for Lucifer’s sake!”
They argued back and forth, escalating in speed and volume. Copia cringed as Clark’s colleagues began to gather to watch the floor show.
Remembering he was in the presence of others, but not that he was no longer in the formal atmosphere of the ministry, Secondo gave Clark a formal bow. “I apologise for my brother’s behaviour. We will leave now, of course.”
“I think that’s for the best,” Clark responded. The sooner he was free of these weirdos, the better. “Come on, I’ll show you to the exit.”
***
The trudge through the park was awkward, like a teacher escorting three errant school boys. The grim-faced elder brother responded to Clark’s chipper small talk and fun Disney facts with monosyllabic grunts. He didn’t understand anything the middle one was muttering darkly at him, but he doubted it was anything flattering,
Terzo was so absorbed by stewing in his fury at having been so rudely interrupted that he bumped into Secondo when their walk of shame came to an abrupt halt
“Sorry folks,” Clark said, clutching his walkie-talkie and adopting his brightest tone. “We just have to wait here for a sec. Security just needs to check a suspicious item on the parade route and then we can be on our way.”
Copia glanced up and recognised the bench opposite the cafe where he and a Secondo had dawdled earlier. The scene was different now though. A crew of dark-clad men resembling a full-scale SWAT team was approaching, causing an unnamed flicker of apprehension to gnaw at him. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised he felt nervous. Despite Clark’s breezy reassurances, the whole area was taped off and it looked for all the world like the security team was about to carry out some sort of controlled explosion. Surely they couldn't do that here? They only did stuff like that in the movies and at airports when they found unattended baggage and the like.
Unattended baggage.
The realisation seemed to hit him and Secondo at the same time and they locked eyes, each of their mouths frozen in an identical, panicked “o”.
Merciful Satan, Copia thought, please don’t let Terzo…
“Hey, my bag!” Terzo whined and pointed at the red monstrosity at the centre of the unfolding drama. “What are they doing?”
“That’s yours?” Clark fumed, visibly losing his shit that these idiots had thrown a wrench into the well-oiled machine that was Disney’s parade. “Do you have any idea of the incident you’ve caused?!”
“Not my fault, buddy,” he hissed. “This stronzo here was supposed to be looking after it!” Copia blushed furiously as Terzo threw him under the bus, but the middle brother was oblivious as he flip-flopped through the security tape and hauled the bag back to their group.
The security team was on him in seconds.
“Sir, I’m afraid I am going to have to insist that we check your bag.”
Terzo’s eyes flickered over to Secondo and he fidgeted shiftily. The eldest frowned. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his carefree brother blush but there was a definite pink heat to his cheeks right now. “Terzo,” he growled, aware of the crowd that was gathering around the security tape. “What are they going to find?”
One of the security guards prised Terzo’s fingers one at a time from the backpack and set it on the floor. Copia’s ears burned and he thought he could feel the crowd lean in closer to the sound of the zipper opening.
There was a collective gasp.
Spilling from the bag was rope after rope of foil-packaged condoms. A lot of condoms. In every conceivable flavour and texture. They just kept coming, falling in a zigzagged line as the security guard continued to pull them from between the zipper.
A child’s voice broke the horrified silence. “Mommy, what’s a condom?” And at that the crowd quickly scattered.
Copia didn’t think he’d ever felt so mortified. He saw some parents actually covering their kids’ eyes to shield them from his and his brothers' depravity.
They all jumped at the sudden laugh that erupted from Secondo. What started as a slightly hysterical chuckle soon morphed into the booming belly laugh of a camp, pantomime villain. It took several minutes for him to stop gasping and collect himself. “My apologies,” he wheezed, straightening his t-shirt and wiping the tears from underneath his aviators. “I think we can find the exit from here,” and he beckoned with his head towards the exit.
Their retreating voices floated back to Clark as he watched the brothers head for the turnstiles.
“Please can we just get out of here!” Copia had jammed his hands in his pockets and his shoulders were around his ears.
“Hey, at least I was being safe! If you’d introduce your dick to someone other than your hand, perhaps you wouldn’t be so embarrassed, eh, Copia?”
“Psh! Like even you would have had occasion to use all those,” guffawed the eldest.
***
Secondo adjusted the driver’s seat and looked over the controls while they waited for the air con to kick in. “Well, I think you outdid yourself this time, Terzo. A major security incident and a lifetime ban because you couldn’t keep it in your pants,” he deadpanned.
The raven-haired brother merely grinned as he dropped himself into the backseat. “At least I blew my load and not my chunks. The staff on Space Mountain needed quite the clean-up crew, eh?”
Secondo glared at Copia who was doing up his seatbelt. “He asked about our change of shirts…” he trailed.
“Ugh, whatever. Can we please go home now? I have so many more worthy things to be getting on with there.” He thought longingly of the historical documents he’d brought from Italy, currently abandoned on his desk.
Terzo’s voice was breezy from the backseat. “You heard Primo. We’re here for the summer. We’re just getting started!”