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hetalia2010-04-25 10:40 pm
einannanhalling.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2010-04-25 10:40 pm
[Fanfic] Prussia/S.Italy "Good Luck Moving On" Chapter 4
Title: "Good Luck Moving On"
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
einannanhalling ( einwritting )
Characters/Pairings: Mainly; Prussia/S.Italy
Rating: PG-13 (thus far)
Warnings: None
Summary: Gilbert's been living with his brother for the last six months, signed up for an anger management class he doesn't need and watching his younger brother get things under control better than he could hope to. After spending a day out job searching an offer from an old friend, Antonio Carriedo, to come and stay at his apartment leads to interesting developments.
Beta'd by;zazzy
Author note; So sorry this took forever to post. I've had the first half done for a while now, but I got caught up in training and just haven't had much time to write! So here's four and five is done just not posted yet! Thanks for the patience!
-
"I've told you multiple times already! Do not. Let. Him. Near the lifts!"
Ludwig's house was always very neat, contemporary, and clean. In some way, the sparse furniture and decor gave the place it's own sort of charm, however odd that charm may have been. Truth be told, it didn't have many flaws for one to complain about. The guest room was always turned on it's head for the weekly cleaning, the sheets stripped every time a new guest spent the night, the draperies beaten to keep the dust from sticking. The kitchen looked like it hadn't been a used a day in it's life, and the glass stove top gleamed like it was the highest quality obsidian. The dinning room had seating for twelve. Tall, proud chairs lined along the length of a glass top table that sat beneath an ornate light. The living room was the only place that whispered the possibility of someone actually living there, but it was only because Ludwig had yet to notice Gilbert had left his briefcase at the side of the couch.
"Absolutely not! There was no 'if' anywhere in what I'd instructed you to do!"
The house was immaculate. As if it had been torn right from the pages of a decor magazine. Not a thing to complain about- other than the fact that the to the lack of family photos, shoes left by the front door, and all other notions of personality to this particular house gave it a terrible echo. The sound of Ludwig's voice was left to bounce from wall to wall, from wall to floor, from floor to ceiling like he'd been sitting in the bed right next to Feliciano screaming into the phone, when in truth he was in the office at the opposite end of the house.
The Italian groaned, pulling the blanket up with his toes, and rolled over onto his stomach. His face sunk into the soft down of the pillow to his right, the only thing that really still smelled like Ludwig and not fabric softener, not that it would last long. The German was bound to finish up his phone call and rush Feliciano out of bed in order to clean up the room before they left for the day. He was always in a rush, that Ludwig, which at times was endearing, but more often than not it was disheartening. Feliciano could lay out on that California king bed, breathing in a smell that had no other classification than 'Ludwig', and wrap his arms around a stomach that was solid from muscle mass, but flat because, for as much as the blond loved the gym, he could never figure out the finesse to acquiring muscle definition. Ludwig was usually out of bed by the time he slid from his dreams and cracked open wide, brown eyes to peer at the sunlight peeking through the lines of the slick venetian blinds. As was the case this morning. As was the case every day before.
He listened idly to the voice that echoed through the house, pulling the down comforter up around his neck.
"This is the second chance I'm giving you. It's hard enough to find work now, do you really want to throw away a career?"
Ah, it was about work. Leave it to Ludwig to be working on his day off.
Tanned legs slid over the side of the bed, slow and tired, but with purpose. Feliciano dropped off of the bed in a movement so fluid it looked as if he'd not possessed a single bone in his body. The blanket was kept tight around his shoulders, hissing like a snake at his heels as it was dragged along the gray tile floor. His bare feet left fogged prints in his wake and the Italian found himself looking over his shoulder at the path he cut across the great expanse of slate, putting a hop in his step now and again to try and make his own sort of pattern.
"No. I've told you already that's it for today. Tell the guys down at Metro to have the parts shipped to 'Honda Junkers' in Mastic Port. There's no reason to hold onto those at this point, we're getting a new shipment..."
Marble counters slid past his hips and Feliciano couldn't help but hold his arms out somewhat, lost in his own mind, wondering if this is what it looked like when you parted the sea and walked right down the middle, only with less stainless steel pottery. Then he saw Ludwig, hunched over the office desk with a fist full of the hair he hadn't gotten around the styling that morning, tiny cellphone pressed to his ear, and a tired grimace on his face. He was so young and yet always managed to look so much older and worn down. In fact, Feliciano only saw Ludwig look like Ludwig when they brushed their teeth before bed and had a contest to see who could brush with faster strokes, or who could spit their toothpaste the farthest, or when he asked Ludwig what sort of pasta was "zhenpasta" and the german nearly choked on the Listerine he'd been rinsing with.
"No. The owner there will have the machinery to move it from the front gate, I won't be sending a truck this time. Why would you do that if I just told you I won't be sending a truck?"
Blue eyes looked up from the paper laid out on the desk, hard at first but, when they settled on Feliciano, they softened. He watched as Ludwig's favorite pair of boat shoes kicked back against the floor, pushing the office chair back away from the desk leaving just enough space for the brunette. Feliciano smiled, advancing to the desk and turning to rest his knees on the chair seat on either side of Ludwig's thighs. He could feel the hard wooden supports through the plush seat cushion pressing into the bone of his knees, but once he settled his weight down into Ludwig's lap the sharp stinging turned into something more of a dull throb. He ignored it though, deciding that laying against the blonde with his cheek pressed against the other's chest was worth the discomfort.
"I'll be back in the office on Monday. Deal with it until then. Mhm, goodbye." The phone call finished with a sigh that left a moist spot behind Feliciano's ear, who, after being quiet up until that point, whined and wrapped his arm tighter beneath the German's armpits.
"It's your day off and you're working! Even so early in the morning! That's two strikes against the Sunday you promised me you wouldn't work."
Brown eyes peered up at the man in his arms, but all he could see from the angle against Ludwig's chest was the inside of his nose. Feliciano could have sat up straight to get the pout he was donning across better, but that would mean he'd have to part with the steady heartbeat thrumming against his ear. The clack of the mobile phone being placed on the desk sounded, freeing up the hands that now slid up the blanket clad back.
"Sorry, there's just some people who can't get things down right. I might as well be doing everything myself."
"Noo, noo, then you'd have even less days off," Feliciano's frown slowly turned into a playful smile as he stuck his finger up Ludwig's left nostril and wiggled it with every word,"that you still don't really take off."
Ludwig jerked his head to the side and back in an attempt to rid himself of the intruding finger, but it wasn't going anywhere unless Feliciano removed it himself, which he did after the he'd gotten a sharp look directed his way. The Italian smiled, slipping his hands up the sleeves of Ludwig's shirt, running his fingertips over the top of his shoulders, lifting his chin to place a light kiss on the underside of his jaw. The tight coil of agitation and tension seemed to melt away, softening the feel of the body beneath him as Ludwig snuck his hands in beneath the blanket and snapped right back to his sides once they came in contact with the bare skin of the other's stomach.
"A-are you not wearing anything?"
"Why would I? I just woke up."
Feliciano smiled, working his fingers in circled over the flesh of the other's shoulders and Ludwig couldn't see the point in making him stop- even if he wasn't wearing any clothing. Ludwig sighed relaxing into the manipulations, but straightened up just as quickly.
"You need to put clothes on. Gilbert w-"
"Gilbert's not here, right? Didn't he go to stay with Antonio?" Feliciano inquired, wide eyed even if the hands slithering up, underneath the front of Ludwig's shirt, betrayed the expression. He lifted himself up onto his knees, biting back the sudden protest in his bones as they pressed into the wood and shifted, putting more weight on the hands pressed against the blond's chest as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Ludwig's lips.
Strong hands moved to take a hold of the naked hips hovering just above his own, his thumbs rubbing smooth and easy circles into the hollow that ran along Feliciano's hip bones. The brunette smiled against Ludwig's lips as he leaned back into the fingers that pressed low on his back, letting his weight rest there in his hands. When they broke back from the kiss Ludwig leaned forward off the back of the chair to kiss along the skin of Feliciano's neck, humming his approval as thin fingers slid up through the back of his hair, grasping to lead him to the spots along his jaw and the crook of his shoulder that needed tending to.
The hiss of the blanket as slid from the italian's shoulder left to drape over Ludwig's knees was left unheard as their breathing grew labored, hands wandering from hips and shoulders, sliding up the inside of thighs, down the solid expanse of a newly exposed stomach. The only sound that did managed to echo through the house was the loud shrill call of the mobile phone left to rest on the office desk, jolting the two men like a 9-volt battery.
Ludwig moved to pick it up and at the same time Felicano had moved to knock it away leaving to two to get tangled around one another, but in the end Felicano had managed to wrap nimble fingers around the slick black casing around the phone. He pouted, the curve of his bottom protesting against the hard surface of the desk, but Feliciano ignore it, pushing a foot against each of Ludwig's shoulders as the blond moved to take the phone from him.
"Luuuud," he whined, moving the phone in the opposite direction of every grasp made for it, "this is not fair! Sunday is my day!"
"Feli," he protested, moving to grab the phone again,"that's not fair, I'm trying to run a company."
The Italian squirmed, rolling onto his knees for the second or two it took him to crawl off of the desk, ignoring the burn where the metal trash can just at the side had possibly scrapped the back of his calf as he stumbled over himself. He ran for the opposite side of the room, lithe muscles sliding beneath dark skin, the slap of his member against his thighs as he half scrambled. The floor was cold now against the soles of his feet, the grey walls of the far left corner even more so as they pressed in against his sides and back. Ludwig had pursued him, reaching for the phone screaming like a brass rat caught in the jaws of terrier.
The decorated throw rug, splashed with olive circles, black compliments, and tanned shapes that could or couldn't have had a legitimate name, gave beneath his feet an inch or two as he tried to push himself further into the corner, holding the phone clamped against his chest. Ludwig frowned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, while the shorter man protested like a scolded two year old.
"No! No, you promised! Breaking a promise is more unfair!"
"Feliciano."
"No!"
"Vargas."
"That won't work!"
Ludwig bit the inside of his lip, his eyes looking off to the side of the room, following along the curve of the large window that took up a good deal of the wall there, the heavy olive curtains pooling on the polished office floor. He starred at the reflection of the window there, as if it could give him an answer, an idea of how to have this all work out in his favor. When no wise words were gifted to him, Ludwig just made one last reach for the phone- this time quick and sudden in his movements. The Italian jumped, slithering out of the way with an almost practiced ease. Ludwig would have been impressed with the brunette had he not tripped on the carpet, stumbling a foot or two before he hit the floor with a slap of bare skin and the lighter tinkling of shattered plastic.
The room was silent. Neither man made a notion to move, until Feliciano allowed his body to slacken, leaving it to rest fully against the floor, the hand that had been holding the phone loosening it's vice like grip to reveal the corner of Ludwig's screen had been chipped. Looking at the phone now, Ludwig had wished he'd opted out of a complete touch-screen automated phone because the crack running diagonally across the screen didn't seem very forgiving.
By the time the air had gotten almost unbearably still, Feliciano let out a low whimper, moving to sit on the floor cross legged in front of the blond who just continued to stare down at him with an undiscernable expression.
"I-I think it's broken," he said quietly, but the hysteric worked their way into his voice as he continued, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! I just wanted to spend today with you because it is my day and the phone could wait, but I-!"
"Feli, just get up off of the floor, and hand me my phone please."
Slowly, his shoulders slumped in defeat, Feliciano got to his feet and gingerly deposited the phone in Ludwig's upturned palm. He could see the price tag of the phone flashing in blue eyes as it was gently placed back down on the office desk, as if the damage would just disappear if he promised to be gentle with it from now on. Don't worry little phone, the big bad Feli won't get his hands on you again.
Ludwig turned back from the desk and rubbed at the back of his neck, he opened his mouth to speak, but Feliciano jumped in and interrupted.
"I'm really sorry..."
The blond shrugged, letting out a long breath. Being angry wouldn't fix the phone either, but he still couldn't find himself completely at ease with the whole situation. He held out his arms, shooting one last longing look to the phone as Feliciano walked into his arms, digging his nose into the crook of Ludwig's neck. His hands came to rest on the small of the brunette's back, his fingers interlaced with one another.
"It's alright," he'd mumbled, "but next time it's our day and my phone rings, could you press 'silent' instead of smashing it?"
Feliciano laughed, running his hands up the German's sides.
"Only if you promise that for the rest of the day no more work."
He bustled, furrowing his eyebrows as he leaned back to get a good look at the man in his arms.
"My hands are tied here. No work is going to get done today unless I get a new phone."
"Well, if you can't work then~"
--
"What the fuck are you doing here!?"
The crowd around the bar was only more riled up by the shattered glass. Some cheered, which only made the heat at the tips of Romano's ears increase ten fold from embarrassment, some booed, and one man at the end of the bar raised his own glass high above his head, hollering, "Bloody good show!" before smashing his own glass as a tribute to the Italian's mishap.
Svend only grumbled, loping over to the blond man now half slumped over the bar counter and tried to clean up the mess while the other rambled on about how no one has any spunk anymore.
"Where has all the spunk gone? Give that kid a medal! Get your hands off of my glass, you lumbering buffoon, I'm not done yet!"
Gilbert grinned, slithering through the mass of bodies dancing, through the strange break in between the crowd that swayed with the music and the crowd that swayed because the alcohol had swallowed up whatever equilibrium they might have possessed. He watched the lights dance across the other man's face, idly noting that he had a rather feminine nose when the light hit it just right. When he finally made it to the counter, ignoring the way the woman to his right yelled over the top of his head. He turned his attention to her for a second, watching as she tried to wave someone down from her position at the bar. The black dress she wore was snug fitting everywhere but right along the hem of the arm pit that had a light dusting of deodorant, and when she waved just right he could see the soft swell of the side of her breast. Her arm dropped down in frustration and she pushed back through the crowd. He'd almost turned to keep his eyes on her when a hand fisted in his shirt and pulled him almost hard enough to drag him over the side of the bar.
"Hey, wurst-fingers, what the hell? You have at least three other clubs on the fucking boardwalk. Why. are. you. here?"
"If you think I'm stalking you... I had no idea you had the sweetest job in the world!"
Romano sputtered, shaking the hand that had hold of the other man's shirt as if it would get his point across, but he was no better at forcing words through his fingertips as he was at rolling them off of his tongue. Gilbert only laughed, clasping his own hand over the Italian's, patting Romano's knuckles against the palm of his hand- a gesture that proved to be irritatingly placating.
"Listen, I don't drink, so you can have the spotlight all to yourself, man. I won't steal the lime light, so take a deep breath, cause you're startin' to turn purple. Al-"
"That's not because I'm not breathing it's because I'm angry you sonoffabitch!"
There was all this heat rushing up the hand that the German had seen fit to capture with his own and that had his heart pounding against his ribs in time with the music blaring from cleverly hidden speakers. His skin itched and burned all at the same time and it was wearing on his nerves with exceptional progress. He was, in fact, angry, if only because he couldn't think of how else to feel.
"Right, right, whatever. Either way it's not your color. So, chill out."
Thick fingers brushed along longer, darker, ones as Gilbert let his hand drop to the counter top. They sat there in a silence that seemed comfortable, but wrongly placed, leaving the two of them to stare back at one another, lips open to speak, but nothing to say. Their reflections echoed back perfectly in the surface of the bar, just as still, and just as silent. It was Romano who broke first, managing a cough before adding a quick,
"A german that doesn't drink? Did you get dropped on the head?"
Gilbert let a small laugh pass his lips, granting the brunette what humor he had for the comment, leaning forward with his elbows resting against his shadow's.
"Not nearly as much as you must have been, but I have my reasons."
A scoff.
"Yeah? Like what?"
And there was the silence again, although this time it seemed heavier, charged, as if they'd been situated at the center of the very plasma lights flashing behind the bar tender's head. It was hard to imagine that the man across from Gilbert was the braver of the two, but he was, once again, the one with enough nerve to break a silence like that.
"Fine. Don't answer me, but I've got work to do so if you're not drinking go keep yourself busy. Or, you know, go to another fucking club."
The blond rolled his eyes, a gesture betrayed by the grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, stepping back from the bar.
"I kind of like this place! Feels like home!"
The Italian nearly flipped himself over the counter, slamming his palms down as if he'd been planning to crack it in two, groaning in frustration.
"Fuck you, Cazzo!"
"Yeah! Don't go holding up the queue with your flighty nonsense! He doesn't get paid to do fuck all!"
It had been the man at the end of the bar who was quickly becoming known for his talent in commentary. This time Svend cut in, snatching the glass right out of the blond's hands and filled it with a grin that nearly split his face. He'd looked like the wolf that got into the chicken coop as he handed it back.
"Jeez, I take everything back I've ever said about British guys. This man. He's amazing. He drinks more than my entire family could manage! The guy's a pro!"
Romano stepped up beside the Dane, digging a small elbow into his gut as he pushed him back. It was a feat in it's self, really. Svend wasn't much of a push-over, in stature at least, and when compared to the much shorter Italian, he look nothing short of gargantuan. Blue eyes flicked from the drunk leaning over to bar in an attempt to give Svend the glass for a refill, and Romano trying his best to full body push the Dane as far away from the outstretched cup as possible.
"No. You do this every time there's a rowdy drunk and then they get worse and then I get in trouble!"
"Ah, come on, it's funny. Righty, Arthur?!"
"Yeah, what's even more of a bloody giggle is that a man can't get a refill around here! Tip top service, really."
"You shut up, you crazy old man!"
"Hey now, Romano! He's not crazy! Just a little drunk!"
"....I wish I were a little more unconscious, honestly...."
"NO!"
"Why not!?"
"EITHER FILL THIS GLASS OR TAKE IT AWAY, MY ARM IS TIRED FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"
Simultaneously, the two bartenders made a grab for the glass but, in the end, the Brit snapped it right to his chest, coddling it like he was shielding a child from their combined grasps. He wavered on his chair, leaning back so far that he was almost at a complete recline, before letting out a sharp laugh.
"You would take this from me. That's all anybody does, is take. Like Peter! That bastard..." Romano rolled his eyes, ignoring Arthur as he continued in his griping, before shooting a pointed look the Dane just behind him.
"Let him keep the fucking cup. See if I care. If you give this nut any. more. alcohol," He nearly snarled, punctuating each word with a sharp punch to the other's left arm,"I swear on my lord's grace, I will fucking kill you."
"I raise him and he runs off to be a mechanic! A ride mechanic, no less! On the bloody pier!"
Svend just laughed, catching the Italian's fist in his hand.
"Alright! Alright!"
"Now he wants to live on a boat! He wants to live by the 'sea' or some nonsense like that. Never should have brought him to the beach when he was younger."
Romano shot an exasperated look at Arthur, watching as his eyebrows knit into a frustrated pout before he slammed his forehead down on the counter, obscuring them from view.
"......What's wrong with my house.....?"
"I'm going on break. This is fucking ridiculous."
Author:
einannanhalling ( einwritting )Characters/Pairings: Mainly; Prussia/S.Italy
Rating: PG-13 (thus far)
Warnings: None
Summary: Gilbert's been living with his brother for the last six months, signed up for an anger management class he doesn't need and watching his younger brother get things under control better than he could hope to. After spending a day out job searching an offer from an old friend, Antonio Carriedo, to come and stay at his apartment leads to interesting developments.
Beta'd by;
zazzy Author note; So sorry this took forever to post. I've had the first half done for a while now, but I got caught up in training and just haven't had much time to write! So here's four and five is done just not posted yet! Thanks for the patience!
-
"I've told you multiple times already! Do not. Let. Him. Near the lifts!"
Ludwig's house was always very neat, contemporary, and clean. In some way, the sparse furniture and decor gave the place it's own sort of charm, however odd that charm may have been. Truth be told, it didn't have many flaws for one to complain about. The guest room was always turned on it's head for the weekly cleaning, the sheets stripped every time a new guest spent the night, the draperies beaten to keep the dust from sticking. The kitchen looked like it hadn't been a used a day in it's life, and the glass stove top gleamed like it was the highest quality obsidian. The dinning room had seating for twelve. Tall, proud chairs lined along the length of a glass top table that sat beneath an ornate light. The living room was the only place that whispered the possibility of someone actually living there, but it was only because Ludwig had yet to notice Gilbert had left his briefcase at the side of the couch.
"Absolutely not! There was no 'if' anywhere in what I'd instructed you to do!"
The house was immaculate. As if it had been torn right from the pages of a decor magazine. Not a thing to complain about- other than the fact that the to the lack of family photos, shoes left by the front door, and all other notions of personality to this particular house gave it a terrible echo. The sound of Ludwig's voice was left to bounce from wall to wall, from wall to floor, from floor to ceiling like he'd been sitting in the bed right next to Feliciano screaming into the phone, when in truth he was in the office at the opposite end of the house.
The Italian groaned, pulling the blanket up with his toes, and rolled over onto his stomach. His face sunk into the soft down of the pillow to his right, the only thing that really still smelled like Ludwig and not fabric softener, not that it would last long. The German was bound to finish up his phone call and rush Feliciano out of bed in order to clean up the room before they left for the day. He was always in a rush, that Ludwig, which at times was endearing, but more often than not it was disheartening. Feliciano could lay out on that California king bed, breathing in a smell that had no other classification than 'Ludwig', and wrap his arms around a stomach that was solid from muscle mass, but flat because, for as much as the blond loved the gym, he could never figure out the finesse to acquiring muscle definition. Ludwig was usually out of bed by the time he slid from his dreams and cracked open wide, brown eyes to peer at the sunlight peeking through the lines of the slick venetian blinds. As was the case this morning. As was the case every day before.
He listened idly to the voice that echoed through the house, pulling the down comforter up around his neck.
"This is the second chance I'm giving you. It's hard enough to find work now, do you really want to throw away a career?"
Ah, it was about work. Leave it to Ludwig to be working on his day off.
Tanned legs slid over the side of the bed, slow and tired, but with purpose. Feliciano dropped off of the bed in a movement so fluid it looked as if he'd not possessed a single bone in his body. The blanket was kept tight around his shoulders, hissing like a snake at his heels as it was dragged along the gray tile floor. His bare feet left fogged prints in his wake and the Italian found himself looking over his shoulder at the path he cut across the great expanse of slate, putting a hop in his step now and again to try and make his own sort of pattern.
"No. I've told you already that's it for today. Tell the guys down at Metro to have the parts shipped to 'Honda Junkers' in Mastic Port. There's no reason to hold onto those at this point, we're getting a new shipment..."
Marble counters slid past his hips and Feliciano couldn't help but hold his arms out somewhat, lost in his own mind, wondering if this is what it looked like when you parted the sea and walked right down the middle, only with less stainless steel pottery. Then he saw Ludwig, hunched over the office desk with a fist full of the hair he hadn't gotten around the styling that morning, tiny cellphone pressed to his ear, and a tired grimace on his face. He was so young and yet always managed to look so much older and worn down. In fact, Feliciano only saw Ludwig look like Ludwig when they brushed their teeth before bed and had a contest to see who could brush with faster strokes, or who could spit their toothpaste the farthest, or when he asked Ludwig what sort of pasta was "zhenpasta" and the german nearly choked on the Listerine he'd been rinsing with.
"No. The owner there will have the machinery to move it from the front gate, I won't be sending a truck this time. Why would you do that if I just told you I won't be sending a truck?"
Blue eyes looked up from the paper laid out on the desk, hard at first but, when they settled on Feliciano, they softened. He watched as Ludwig's favorite pair of boat shoes kicked back against the floor, pushing the office chair back away from the desk leaving just enough space for the brunette. Feliciano smiled, advancing to the desk and turning to rest his knees on the chair seat on either side of Ludwig's thighs. He could feel the hard wooden supports through the plush seat cushion pressing into the bone of his knees, but once he settled his weight down into Ludwig's lap the sharp stinging turned into something more of a dull throb. He ignored it though, deciding that laying against the blonde with his cheek pressed against the other's chest was worth the discomfort.
"I'll be back in the office on Monday. Deal with it until then. Mhm, goodbye." The phone call finished with a sigh that left a moist spot behind Feliciano's ear, who, after being quiet up until that point, whined and wrapped his arm tighter beneath the German's armpits.
"It's your day off and you're working! Even so early in the morning! That's two strikes against the Sunday you promised me you wouldn't work."
Brown eyes peered up at the man in his arms, but all he could see from the angle against Ludwig's chest was the inside of his nose. Feliciano could have sat up straight to get the pout he was donning across better, but that would mean he'd have to part with the steady heartbeat thrumming against his ear. The clack of the mobile phone being placed on the desk sounded, freeing up the hands that now slid up the blanket clad back.
"Sorry, there's just some people who can't get things down right. I might as well be doing everything myself."
"Noo, noo, then you'd have even less days off," Feliciano's frown slowly turned into a playful smile as he stuck his finger up Ludwig's left nostril and wiggled it with every word,"that you still don't really take off."
Ludwig jerked his head to the side and back in an attempt to rid himself of the intruding finger, but it wasn't going anywhere unless Feliciano removed it himself, which he did after the he'd gotten a sharp look directed his way. The Italian smiled, slipping his hands up the sleeves of Ludwig's shirt, running his fingertips over the top of his shoulders, lifting his chin to place a light kiss on the underside of his jaw. The tight coil of agitation and tension seemed to melt away, softening the feel of the body beneath him as Ludwig snuck his hands in beneath the blanket and snapped right back to his sides once they came in contact with the bare skin of the other's stomach.
"A-are you not wearing anything?"
"Why would I? I just woke up."
Feliciano smiled, working his fingers in circled over the flesh of the other's shoulders and Ludwig couldn't see the point in making him stop- even if he wasn't wearing any clothing. Ludwig sighed relaxing into the manipulations, but straightened up just as quickly.
"You need to put clothes on. Gilbert w-"
"Gilbert's not here, right? Didn't he go to stay with Antonio?" Feliciano inquired, wide eyed even if the hands slithering up, underneath the front of Ludwig's shirt, betrayed the expression. He lifted himself up onto his knees, biting back the sudden protest in his bones as they pressed into the wood and shifted, putting more weight on the hands pressed against the blond's chest as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Ludwig's lips.
Strong hands moved to take a hold of the naked hips hovering just above his own, his thumbs rubbing smooth and easy circles into the hollow that ran along Feliciano's hip bones. The brunette smiled against Ludwig's lips as he leaned back into the fingers that pressed low on his back, letting his weight rest there in his hands. When they broke back from the kiss Ludwig leaned forward off the back of the chair to kiss along the skin of Feliciano's neck, humming his approval as thin fingers slid up through the back of his hair, grasping to lead him to the spots along his jaw and the crook of his shoulder that needed tending to.
The hiss of the blanket as slid from the italian's shoulder left to drape over Ludwig's knees was left unheard as their breathing grew labored, hands wandering from hips and shoulders, sliding up the inside of thighs, down the solid expanse of a newly exposed stomach. The only sound that did managed to echo through the house was the loud shrill call of the mobile phone left to rest on the office desk, jolting the two men like a 9-volt battery.
Ludwig moved to pick it up and at the same time Felicano had moved to knock it away leaving to two to get tangled around one another, but in the end Felicano had managed to wrap nimble fingers around the slick black casing around the phone. He pouted, the curve of his bottom protesting against the hard surface of the desk, but Feliciano ignore it, pushing a foot against each of Ludwig's shoulders as the blond moved to take the phone from him.
"Luuuud," he whined, moving the phone in the opposite direction of every grasp made for it, "this is not fair! Sunday is my day!"
"Feli," he protested, moving to grab the phone again,"that's not fair, I'm trying to run a company."
The Italian squirmed, rolling onto his knees for the second or two it took him to crawl off of the desk, ignoring the burn where the metal trash can just at the side had possibly scrapped the back of his calf as he stumbled over himself. He ran for the opposite side of the room, lithe muscles sliding beneath dark skin, the slap of his member against his thighs as he half scrambled. The floor was cold now against the soles of his feet, the grey walls of the far left corner even more so as they pressed in against his sides and back. Ludwig had pursued him, reaching for the phone screaming like a brass rat caught in the jaws of terrier.
The decorated throw rug, splashed with olive circles, black compliments, and tanned shapes that could or couldn't have had a legitimate name, gave beneath his feet an inch or two as he tried to push himself further into the corner, holding the phone clamped against his chest. Ludwig frowned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, while the shorter man protested like a scolded two year old.
"No! No, you promised! Breaking a promise is more unfair!"
"Feliciano."
"No!"
"Vargas."
"That won't work!"
Ludwig bit the inside of his lip, his eyes looking off to the side of the room, following along the curve of the large window that took up a good deal of the wall there, the heavy olive curtains pooling on the polished office floor. He starred at the reflection of the window there, as if it could give him an answer, an idea of how to have this all work out in his favor. When no wise words were gifted to him, Ludwig just made one last reach for the phone- this time quick and sudden in his movements. The Italian jumped, slithering out of the way with an almost practiced ease. Ludwig would have been impressed with the brunette had he not tripped on the carpet, stumbling a foot or two before he hit the floor with a slap of bare skin and the lighter tinkling of shattered plastic.
The room was silent. Neither man made a notion to move, until Feliciano allowed his body to slacken, leaving it to rest fully against the floor, the hand that had been holding the phone loosening it's vice like grip to reveal the corner of Ludwig's screen had been chipped. Looking at the phone now, Ludwig had wished he'd opted out of a complete touch-screen automated phone because the crack running diagonally across the screen didn't seem very forgiving.
By the time the air had gotten almost unbearably still, Feliciano let out a low whimper, moving to sit on the floor cross legged in front of the blond who just continued to stare down at him with an undiscernable expression.
"I-I think it's broken," he said quietly, but the hysteric worked their way into his voice as he continued, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! I just wanted to spend today with you because it is my day and the phone could wait, but I-!"
"Feli, just get up off of the floor, and hand me my phone please."
Slowly, his shoulders slumped in defeat, Feliciano got to his feet and gingerly deposited the phone in Ludwig's upturned palm. He could see the price tag of the phone flashing in blue eyes as it was gently placed back down on the office desk, as if the damage would just disappear if he promised to be gentle with it from now on. Don't worry little phone, the big bad Feli won't get his hands on you again.
Ludwig turned back from the desk and rubbed at the back of his neck, he opened his mouth to speak, but Feliciano jumped in and interrupted.
"I'm really sorry..."
The blond shrugged, letting out a long breath. Being angry wouldn't fix the phone either, but he still couldn't find himself completely at ease with the whole situation. He held out his arms, shooting one last longing look to the phone as Feliciano walked into his arms, digging his nose into the crook of Ludwig's neck. His hands came to rest on the small of the brunette's back, his fingers interlaced with one another.
"It's alright," he'd mumbled, "but next time it's our day and my phone rings, could you press 'silent' instead of smashing it?"
Feliciano laughed, running his hands up the German's sides.
"Only if you promise that for the rest of the day no more work."
He bustled, furrowing his eyebrows as he leaned back to get a good look at the man in his arms.
"My hands are tied here. No work is going to get done today unless I get a new phone."
"Well, if you can't work then~"
--
"What the fuck are you doing here!?"
The crowd around the bar was only more riled up by the shattered glass. Some cheered, which only made the heat at the tips of Romano's ears increase ten fold from embarrassment, some booed, and one man at the end of the bar raised his own glass high above his head, hollering, "Bloody good show!" before smashing his own glass as a tribute to the Italian's mishap.
Svend only grumbled, loping over to the blond man now half slumped over the bar counter and tried to clean up the mess while the other rambled on about how no one has any spunk anymore.
"Where has all the spunk gone? Give that kid a medal! Get your hands off of my glass, you lumbering buffoon, I'm not done yet!"
Gilbert grinned, slithering through the mass of bodies dancing, through the strange break in between the crowd that swayed with the music and the crowd that swayed because the alcohol had swallowed up whatever equilibrium they might have possessed. He watched the lights dance across the other man's face, idly noting that he had a rather feminine nose when the light hit it just right. When he finally made it to the counter, ignoring the way the woman to his right yelled over the top of his head. He turned his attention to her for a second, watching as she tried to wave someone down from her position at the bar. The black dress she wore was snug fitting everywhere but right along the hem of the arm pit that had a light dusting of deodorant, and when she waved just right he could see the soft swell of the side of her breast. Her arm dropped down in frustration and she pushed back through the crowd. He'd almost turned to keep his eyes on her when a hand fisted in his shirt and pulled him almost hard enough to drag him over the side of the bar.
"Hey, wurst-fingers, what the hell? You have at least three other clubs on the fucking boardwalk. Why. are. you. here?"
"If you think I'm stalking you... I had no idea you had the sweetest job in the world!"
Romano sputtered, shaking the hand that had hold of the other man's shirt as if it would get his point across, but he was no better at forcing words through his fingertips as he was at rolling them off of his tongue. Gilbert only laughed, clasping his own hand over the Italian's, patting Romano's knuckles against the palm of his hand- a gesture that proved to be irritatingly placating.
"Listen, I don't drink, so you can have the spotlight all to yourself, man. I won't steal the lime light, so take a deep breath, cause you're startin' to turn purple. Al-"
"That's not because I'm not breathing it's because I'm angry you sonoffabitch!"
There was all this heat rushing up the hand that the German had seen fit to capture with his own and that had his heart pounding against his ribs in time with the music blaring from cleverly hidden speakers. His skin itched and burned all at the same time and it was wearing on his nerves with exceptional progress. He was, in fact, angry, if only because he couldn't think of how else to feel.
"Right, right, whatever. Either way it's not your color. So, chill out."
Thick fingers brushed along longer, darker, ones as Gilbert let his hand drop to the counter top. They sat there in a silence that seemed comfortable, but wrongly placed, leaving the two of them to stare back at one another, lips open to speak, but nothing to say. Their reflections echoed back perfectly in the surface of the bar, just as still, and just as silent. It was Romano who broke first, managing a cough before adding a quick,
"A german that doesn't drink? Did you get dropped on the head?"
Gilbert let a small laugh pass his lips, granting the brunette what humor he had for the comment, leaning forward with his elbows resting against his shadow's.
"Not nearly as much as you must have been, but I have my reasons."
A scoff.
"Yeah? Like what?"
And there was the silence again, although this time it seemed heavier, charged, as if they'd been situated at the center of the very plasma lights flashing behind the bar tender's head. It was hard to imagine that the man across from Gilbert was the braver of the two, but he was, once again, the one with enough nerve to break a silence like that.
"Fine. Don't answer me, but I've got work to do so if you're not drinking go keep yourself busy. Or, you know, go to another fucking club."
The blond rolled his eyes, a gesture betrayed by the grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, stepping back from the bar.
"I kind of like this place! Feels like home!"
The Italian nearly flipped himself over the counter, slamming his palms down as if he'd been planning to crack it in two, groaning in frustration.
"Fuck you, Cazzo!"
"Yeah! Don't go holding up the queue with your flighty nonsense! He doesn't get paid to do fuck all!"
It had been the man at the end of the bar who was quickly becoming known for his talent in commentary. This time Svend cut in, snatching the glass right out of the blond's hands and filled it with a grin that nearly split his face. He'd looked like the wolf that got into the chicken coop as he handed it back.
"Jeez, I take everything back I've ever said about British guys. This man. He's amazing. He drinks more than my entire family could manage! The guy's a pro!"
Romano stepped up beside the Dane, digging a small elbow into his gut as he pushed him back. It was a feat in it's self, really. Svend wasn't much of a push-over, in stature at least, and when compared to the much shorter Italian, he look nothing short of gargantuan. Blue eyes flicked from the drunk leaning over to bar in an attempt to give Svend the glass for a refill, and Romano trying his best to full body push the Dane as far away from the outstretched cup as possible.
"No. You do this every time there's a rowdy drunk and then they get worse and then I get in trouble!"
"Ah, come on, it's funny. Righty, Arthur?!"
"Yeah, what's even more of a bloody giggle is that a man can't get a refill around here! Tip top service, really."
"You shut up, you crazy old man!"
"Hey now, Romano! He's not crazy! Just a little drunk!"
"....I wish I were a little more unconscious, honestly...."
"NO!"
"Why not!?"
"EITHER FILL THIS GLASS OR TAKE IT AWAY, MY ARM IS TIRED FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"
Simultaneously, the two bartenders made a grab for the glass but, in the end, the Brit snapped it right to his chest, coddling it like he was shielding a child from their combined grasps. He wavered on his chair, leaning back so far that he was almost at a complete recline, before letting out a sharp laugh.
"You would take this from me. That's all anybody does, is take. Like Peter! That bastard..." Romano rolled his eyes, ignoring Arthur as he continued in his griping, before shooting a pointed look the Dane just behind him.
"Let him keep the fucking cup. See if I care. If you give this nut any. more. alcohol," He nearly snarled, punctuating each word with a sharp punch to the other's left arm,"I swear on my lord's grace, I will fucking kill you."
"I raise him and he runs off to be a mechanic! A ride mechanic, no less! On the bloody pier!"
Svend just laughed, catching the Italian's fist in his hand.
"Alright! Alright!"
"Now he wants to live on a boat! He wants to live by the 'sea' or some nonsense like that. Never should have brought him to the beach when he was younger."
Romano shot an exasperated look at Arthur, watching as his eyebrows knit into a frustrated pout before he slammed his forehead down on the counter, obscuring them from view.
"......What's wrong with my house.....?"
"I'm going on break. This is fucking ridiculous."
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Glad to see more from ya though! (' w ')b!
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Aw, thanks moogies! :]
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I fucking love you, Feli.Gilbert not drinking? I'm just as surprised as Romano xD
I really liked this chapter. Can't wait for more! <3