Chapter Text
Summers in Messina were sticky, humid and sweet. As hot as the women. Though what would Claudio know now that he was to be married? This was his first summer back after the war, after all and he'd never been much of a poet. Don Pedro's homeland wasn't much cooler but when you're fighting a war, or at least seeming like you are, the heat can really get to you.
In a cramped chamber adjoining the chapel, Claudio was preening with all the grace of a rooster before sunrise. “I can’t believe Leonato gave me another chance to be with Hero,” he said, gazing dreamily at his reflection.
Benedick, perched in the corner polishing his boots, looked up. “Truly, I am in as much shock as you even now. After being so disgraceful, who would’ve thought that Leonato would’ve ever given you a second chance?”
Claudio laughed, entirely missing the insult. “Oh, Benedick. Thou art so comical!! Leonato obviously thinks I’ll be a good next governor, and I lowkey did nothing wrong. And Hero will look fabulous next to me! I am so skibidi.”
Benedick scoffed and stood. "Well, hurry up. I've got to go meet Beatrice." He left, leaving Claudio alone with the mirror. This was no inconvenience; Claudio could stare at his reflection all day. And imagine his future role as governor. Moments later, Friar Francis entered, robes flapping in exasperation. “Claudio, hurry up. You’re delaying the whole wedding. Stop admiring yourself and get your act together!”
“Yes, Friar Francis.” Claudio flexed an arm at the mirror. “Don’t I look simply dashing?”
The friar sighed, rubbing his temples. “Ughh. At this rate, Lady Hero will dump you at the altar."
"Oh she won't... because obviously... look at me."
Under his breath, the friar began muttering: “Flat-footed joy-stealing shoelace… beat-up jewelry grass stick… slimy couch-loving bag of oat milk… tone-deaf turd canoe.”
“What was that?” Claudio spun.
"Twas nothing!" The friar hurried off, muttering another stream of insults. Claudio, undeterred, gave himself one last wink in the mirror before wandering to the side of the church. There he found Leonato and Antonio chatting outside under a bowing olive tree.
“I wonder why Friar Francis was muttering so much on the walk here,” Claudio mused aloud, approaching the governor and his brother, his feet light on the dewy grass. “Probably saying how amazing I am… right? Yes, there is no other possible answer. Oh mine own mozzarella. Hi Leonato and Antonio, lolzies!”
Leonato beamed, turning to greet his future son-in-law. “Claudio, there you are, our favorite groom-to-be. I’m sorry that Don Pedro couldn’t make it to your wedding. He recently passed away. Skill issue, I believe.”
Claudio gasped, hand to chest. “Leonato! That’s so insensitive. Even though… it was a skill issue.”
Leonato waved a hand, as if dismissing a worry and not the death of their great friend Don Pedro. “So, how do you feel? It’s a big day!”
Claudio puffed his chest, adjusting his collar. “Well… I’m getting married today. But still, I wonder: what is love?”
Antonio swayed slightly, reaching for the twisting tree behind him for support, eyes unfocused. “Baby don’t hurt me…”
Leonato groaned. “Methinks Antonio hast hadst too much to drinketh the present day. Honestly, he can’t handle any liquor. What’s happened to you, brother? You used to be able to control your drinking habits…” Leonato grabbed Antonio around his elbow and dragged him back towards the Churchyard. Claudio followed, his confidence adding a bounce to his steps. What a lucky girl Hero was. And how lucky was Messina on this fine summer day.