The Regular [Ludwig and Feli]

[Feliciano Vargas]

Feliciano loved his patrons. It was the reason he pursued bar tending to begin with, to spend his nights surrounded in a sea of humanity. He loved his regulars. He loved their stories, loved their unfolding dramas. His patrons needed him and he gladly fulfilled whatever role they sought from him. He’d been a confidant, a confessor, a compatriot, a willing audience, and an entertainer, just to name a few. He was happy to do it, glad to be the one they sought. But there was no denying it; while Feliciano loved all of his regulars, he definitely had a favorite.

The other employees knew it, had seen how Feliciano lit up when the blonde walked through the door. They knew to reserve the booth in the back corner, far from prying eyes, every third Friday of the month, for the stern man with slicked back hair and icy eyes. They also knew that Feliciano was essentially useless on those nights, that his attention would be effectively tied up with the reclusive man in the corner booth. His boss, though clearly unhappy with the thought of his biggest earner being caught up with one customer each month, wasn’t about to suggest any other arrangement. If someone like MP Beilschmidt liked your bar, you certainly did everything you could to keep him coming. And for The Bunker, that included keeping an extra bartender around on every third Friday and letting your breadwinner spend most of his shift trading stories with the politician.

But this Friday was already shaping up to be different. Feliciano glanced surreptitiously at his wristwatch and frowned. It wasn’t like Ludwig to be so late. In the two years that he’d been coming to The Bunker, Ludwig had never varied his time more than a half hour, at least… not without calling or texting Feliciano to let them know they could free up the booth. But now it was nearly midnight and the Italian was starting to get worried… Ludwig should have been on his third or fourth beer by now...

“Feli! Your boyfriend is late!” Beck teased as she tossed him a bottle of gin. Beck was a spry young Londoner with a sharp eye who had been bartending at The Bunker longer than he had. Feliciano liked working his shifts with Beck, even though she teased him and constantly hounded him about the organization his station, she also was the one who matched his work rhythm the best, together their bar ran more like a dance floor than a workplace. Feliciano caught the bottle, blushing furiously at her words.

“Oh… Feli you have a boyfriend?” A patron asked, leaning on the counter, batting her eyes at him coyly. She was a middle aged manager from South Hampton, who came for the gorgeous faces just as much as she came for the drinks. “What’s he like? Is he cute?”

“Eh?! Of course I don't have a boyfriend!” Feliciano blushed further, pouring the gin into the tumbler. “Beck was just joking, Sam—“

“Oh, don’t let him, fool you, Sam, Feli’s completely in love.” Beck interrupted, leaning forward as she spun her own tumbler expertly. “But the guy’s not what you’d expect for Feli. He’s this scary looking man who’s got half the staff scared of him.” (Beck, like most of the staff, neither knew nor cared what Ludwig did for a living.)

Feliciano pouted as he finished making Sam’s favorite(a gin and tonic infused with fresh strawberries.) “You shouldn’t say such things about our regulars… He’s really a nice guy—“ he looked up as the door opened and a well dressed man stepped through. Feliciano beamed as a warm relief spread through his chest at the site of his friend. In a world of changing faces and superficial relationships, it had been nice to have one constant. To have someone to look forward to seeing. He looked to Beck, who sent him a knowing smirk in return.

“Go,” she nodded, as Sam craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of this mysterious visitor. “It’ll give me a chance to test out Dylan’s chops.”

Without waiting for any further encouragement, Feliciano was gone, making a beeline for the corner booth as he straightened his vest and fussed with his tie. After two years, Feliciano knew that the best way to put his friend at ease was to appear as tidy as possible (and keep him well shot of Feliciano’s work station.)

“Ludwig! You’re later than usual! I was starting to get worried... But you're okay--that's a relief!” He sang, coming to a stop with an infectious grin, and rocking back on his heels, excitement building in his chest at the sight of his friend. “Can I get a hug today? You promised me a hug last time! What can I get you first? I just got an order of Oettinger in, especially for you!” He beamed, feeling for all the world like a puppy, preforming tricks for his master. But if he could get a rare smile from the man, it would all be worth it. The older man had always been too serious, and Feliciano just wanted him to relax, to unwind for a few hours and just… enjoy life for a change.

But getting a smile didn’t look like a real possibility, not tonight. Feliciano could feel it from the instant their eyes met. He frowned and slid into the booth beside the larger man, his fingers tugging on the man’s sleeve worriedly. “Ve, Ludwig… is everything all right?” He asked, trying to make his concern heard over the din of other conversations. His hand slid to Ludwig’s, squeezing the gloved fingers comfortingly.

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

As Ludwig’s star had ascended, the man had found himself confronted by problems that he had never even considered when he’d begun his career. For instance, when he needed a place to hang out after work and relax, most places had become abruptly closed to him. The cozy bar near his university knew his face too well, and word spread quickly that an MP had been hanging out there, turning Ludwig’s attempts to unwind into a stream of chatty visitors either plying him for inside information or trying to ask favors. On the other hand, the man’s attempts to follow in the footsteps of his coworkers had fared just as poorly. After accepting a friendly invitation one Friday evening, Ludwig had ended up not at a bar but at a genuine old-school gentlemen’s ‘smoking club’, and the place had reflected its snooty moniker perfectly. Ludwig had easily been the only visitor under forty and the only individual without a Rolex, vacation home, or series of prominent ties to Britain’s upper class. The place hadn’t even served beer, for pity’s sake. The bartender had given him a disdainful stare when he’d asked.

Looking back at that night, Ludwig realized he probably should have commanded rather than asked politely, but he didn’t see that as the point. He wanted a place to relax, where he could put up his feet a little and enjoy the atmosphere, maybe catch a football game on the TV, say hello to the locals, and be promptly forgotten. And it had taken him half a year to find that place.

Ludwig had been leery of The Bunker mainly for the name (the half-German MP going to a bar called The Bunker to escape the work week? The jokes wrote themselves) but he’d crossed off so many other haunts and it had been next on his list. Surprisingly, however, the place had been utterly genuine. He’d grabbed a table in the corner, chatted with the bartender, ordered a few beers and passed the next few hours in peaceful reflection. It could have easily been a cramped, dirty, and suffocating little hole-in-the-wall but Ludwig found it cozy, comfortable, and friendly, and so he’d returned the following Friday, and the Friday after that. As he continued to advance his visits grew fewer, limiting themselves to a single Friday a month, but if anything, the MP had grown even fonder of the place, and he’d become especially fond of one of the bartenders, one Feliciano Vargas, who — aside from the manager — seemed to be the only person in the bar that recognized Ludwig as someone in a powerful position. Even better, unlike the manager, Feliciano had never seemed to care.

When he’d first met the man, Ludwig had been nearly overwhelmed by the enthusiastic Italian. Yet he’d quickly learned that Feliciano hadn’t been angling for a tip or looking for some kind of favor. He greeted all of his customers with the same effervescence. And while the chatterbox could literally talk about anything (Ludwig had once overheard him describing a particularly cute cat he’d passed that morning), Feliciano also proved to be a rapt and sympathetic listener. Feliciano had been an occasional fixture at his quiet corner table until Ludwig had been forced to admit that he’d made an actual friend of the man, at which time his presence had become permanent whenever the MP set foot in the bar. He looked forward to talking with Feliciano just as much as he looked forward to knocking back a beer or three.

This Friday had been particularly hellish, however, and Ludwig had honestly considered breaking his once-a-month agreement with the friendly Italian and the bar he worked for. He had been used to things going wrong during his workday; most of the time, he suspected that if he didn’t clean up the mess, nobody else would bother. But today… today there had been a data leak. And not a small one, either: a vast array of confidential information had bled out to the public, and Ludwig had been furious. With the criminal underground of London stirring and MI6 seemingly with their hands full (and not without their own bouts of incompetence) the last thing the government needed was to appear out of control. Yet the instant the leak had been discovered, Ludwig had learned that plenty of older MPs keep their computer passwords written down on sticky notes on their desk. Plenty more had given their confidential files passwords like ‘kittens’ or ‘password’, and a few had been caught downloading videos from certain websites without so much as a virus scan. Ludwig had genuinely lost his temper then and had promptly arranged for a Computer Security 101 seminar for the worst offenders, but most of that stupidity had already reached the newspapers, who would have quite the headline for tomorrow’s front page.

More ominously, not even Ludwig’s computer had been spared, although the most that had leaked out had been some photographs of his dogs he’d uploaded to a public file and shared with a few friends (those would still probably make it into the gottverdammt papers too, knowing his luck). But Ludwig took plenty of precautions, which meant that the leak might have been a genuine hacking or even some mole buried deep in the government’s own system. He ended up leaving work at half-past-eleven at night when he’d finally judged his damage control to be adequate, and he’d considered going straight home to sleep and forget the whole bloody mess. But then he’d remembered Feliciano and he’d caught a taxi to The Bunker instead.

Inside, the atmosphere perked him up just a bit, but even the warm greeting he received from his friend (or even the promise of Oettinger) couldn’t erase the haggard expression he wore. Feliciano spotted the weariness easily; even with his typical blank mask on, Ludwig doubted he’d be able to pull one over on the shorter man. The Italian had a strange knack for reading people. As he took a seat in his typical booth, he felt slender fingers link in his own. Feliciano loved touching: hugging people, kissing people on the cheek, holding hands, brushing here and there, patting… Ludwig had been extremely off-put by it at first and had veered away whenever Feliciano had come at him, but he’d slowly learned that it was just another way Feliciano expressed himself. He meant no harassment or discomfort by it, and that had caused Ludwig to make an effort to adjust.

”It’s just… been a very long day,” he explained, running his free hand over his forehead before pulling his glove off with his teeth and letting it fall to the table. ”I don’t know how much I can honestly say but you’ll probably be reading about it in the papers tomorrow so perhaps there’s no real harm.” The MP had always been careful not to run his mouth off, but he’d had a few slips, and to his shock, Feliciano had not betrayed his trust. He still kept his own secrets, but some matters could be shared without too much worry. ”Grab me a beer, and grab yourself one if you want. You’ve probably earned it just the same,” Ludwig mumbled, and then a thought occurred to him and he added, ”and I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I should have texted but… my hands were full.”

[Feliciano Vargas]

Feliciano tilted his head at his friend’s words, frowning slightly. It was clear that whatever the MP was struggling with tonight, it was something above and beyond Feliciano’s understanding. He sat down with the weight of a man burdened with the troubles of the world. And… given his position in the government, that wouldn’t be such a far-fetched idea. Feliciano couldn’t understand what was happening. To the bartender, politics had been a confusing animal, one he was all too happy to leave well enough alone. If it was up to him, he’d skip the whole conversation. But his friend clearly needed a cheerful smile and a sympathetic ear, and Feliciano was certainly willing to provide it. No matter what the subject was.

“It’s okay,” he sang, jumping to his feet with a bright smile. “You’re here now and that’s what matters. I’m just glad you made it back tonight." He settled back and fixed Ludwig with a fond gaze. "So! Just sit back and relax for now, I’ll be right back with the drinks.” He waved and turned to head back to the bar, smile slipping from his face. From day one, he knew Ludwig Beilschmidt was special, knew he wasn’t like the other corrupt politicians that Feliciano had encountered, in job or the other. There was a strange level of clarity in his eyes, a single-minded purity undefiled by greed or lust or pride. His rise to power had been fueled only his concern for the people; Ludwig wouldn’t be the type to be drawn in with dark promises of power or fistfuls of dirty money… and perhaps that alone was enough to intrigue Feliciano. If there was any politician who might be able to combat the mafia’s insidious grip on the government, it was the man currently resting in the corner booth. The thought should have frightened him— after all, he was a part of the very criminal network in power. And yet… there was something in that promise that filled the Italian’s chest with something that felt a lot like hope.

“I’m back!” He proclaimed, grinning as he plopped down a pint before the tired MP and slid into the booth beside him. “Oettinger, as promised.” He hummed contentedly and sidled closer, setting down his own glass of Pinot Noir. (He’d tried some of Lud’s beer before and declared the whole thing—‘too much for him.’) “I also put in an order of chips. You look like you could use a bite to eat.” Proud of being such an attentive friend, he took a sip from his glass and fixed his attentive amber eyes onto his friend’s steeled gaze. “So! It sounds like you could use a chance to blow off steam. So talk! We can talk about work… or maybe football—if you don’t want to talk about today… Or I can tell you about my week! Whatever you’d like.” He smiled uncertainly and patted Ludwig’s shoulder. It couldn’t be easy, being an island in a sea of incompetence and corruption, and the strain was clearly starting to show in the slump of his shoulders and the ever-present crease in his brow. Ludwig had never been a particularly light-hearted person, but Feliciano couldn’t help but notice how rare his smile had become lately, couldn’t remember when he’d last heard the German laugh. He frowned and nudged the beer towards the politician. He was going to make Ludwig relax if it was the last thing he did.

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Words: 556

Feliciano Vargas

Color: #003366

Notes: I am slow

As the bartender trotted off to get his order of beer, Ludwig realized he’d forgotten to give the man the hug he’d promised him previously. Scheiße. Even the things he had control of weren’t going right today. Pulling off his other glove, he rubbed his hands together to warm them up before settling against the back of his seat and taking a deep breath. The white noise of the bar — the clatter of glasses, the rustling of coats, the scraping of chair and stool legs against the wooden floor, the low murmur of voices — began to soak into him, and for the first time that entire day, he felt his worries ebb a little. He would continue to clean up the mess tomorrow, but for now, he should try to relax.

When Feliciano returned with a beer, Ludwig accepted it with a quiet ”thanks” and set it carefully on a coaster; he did his part to keep the bar in tidy shape whenever he visited, no matter how small the chore. The MP felt pleased to see that Feliciano had gotten himself a drink as well, as it meant that they had the time to have a proper conversation despite his own late arrival. And that an order of chips had even been arranged just made everything all the more pleasant: Ludwig loved potatoes and he’d become quite attached to the British habit of eating pommes frites with malt vinegar as a dressing.

”That’s kind of you, thank you,” he murmured. ”I am a bit hungry.” Truth be told, he hadn’t eaten since the sandwich he’d hastily bolted down during lunch, but the day’s problems had kept him from taking any kind of a break since then. And Ludwig hated eating at his desk. Crumbs got on his memos.

”Maybe we can take turns,” he suggested, shaking himself mentally as his friend nudged the beer in his direction; he quickly helped himself. The nostalgic flavor of the cold drink washed away a little more of his stress (although maybe he owed some credit to the effects of beer on an empty stomach). After a few more drinks, Ludwig tried to collect his thoughts.

”Do you ever feel like you’re not really in control of something?” Realizing how strange that sounded, Ludwig shook his head quickly and started over. ”Sorry, let me rephrase. I can probably get away with telling you this because it’ll be all over the news anyways, but… there was a very large data leak today from Parliament. And a lot of it was caused by people being careless, which is nothing new, but…” Ludwig ran a hand over his nicely combed hair, ”I get the feeling that something else was at work. It seemed too perfectly coordinated to be just a massive random mistake, which is how it’s going to be portrayed, I’m sure.” He turned his eyes to Feliciano, trying not to let his worries show: while everyone else enjoyed their Saturdays tomorrow, he’d be trying to get to the bottom of this strange little mess. ”It’s like walking into the middle of a brawl, but you can’t shake the feeling that the entire thing has been staged. Have you ever felt like that?”

made by MISSO for use only by LENA

[Feliciano Vargas]

Words: 542

Tags:Ludwig Beilschmidt

Notes: 

Feliciano tilted his head, and bit his lip thoughtfully. This was often part of their ritual, Luddi unloading whatever stresses had been laid on his shoulders and Feli listening with the calm and patient air like a priest at confession. Feli would be lying if he said he understood exactly what the blonde was talking about—he rarely did fully grasp the complexities of the problems that Ludwig faced. Things that didn’t seem like such a big deal to him—a slight from a coworker, an slip of the tongue—had far reaching consequences in the political world. But he’d been friends with Luddi long enough to know that the MP wasn’t looking for advice, but rather a sympathetic ear. Feli didn’t mind it, he liked watching Luddi slowly relax, watching the tension leave those broad shoulders, seeing those fleeting but no less genuine smiles.

Luddi paused, clearly waiting for him to respond and for a moment, Feli wasn’t sure exactly what to say. Usually he was on the other end of the fixed events, an actor hoping to mislead his targets into thinking nothing was amiss. However, he certainly couldn’t say anything to that effect, certainly not to Luddi. He fiddled with his wineglass, carefully thinking over his response. He’d learned that Luddi liked when he was honest, unlike the majority of his clients, the MP wanted something more than a yes man. Finally Feli laughed slightly and set his glass down on the table.

“Well, I’m not really important enough to have anyone use so much energy to distract me,” he said, taking another drink of his wine before leaning forward, his eyes growing serious. If someone was hacking the Parliament, they must be gearing up for something big, he was going to need to keep a keen watch on the Underworld. He could care less about the government but the idea that someone could be targeting Ludwig… that scared him. “Ve… but that computer thing… Do you really think it’s more than a simple hacker? If so, that’s pretty scary, Luddi! You’ll be careful, right?” He rested his hand on Ludwig’s and squeezed it, as though reassuring himself that the man was still there. Feli shook his head and smiled cheerfully, deciding that now was not the time or place to be worrying about such things. The German was clearly in need of some relaxation and Feli wasn’t going to keep bothering him about such gloomy things.

“Luddi… we should do something nice tonight! Whatever you’d like, just name it. It isn’t healthy to spend so much time at work. Sometimes you have to just set aside your problems and remind yourself that life is so much more than this moment.” He leaned forward, his eyes dancing as he met those of his best friend. “So. What’ll it be? We can find beautiful women, go dancing, catch a game? Anything you want!” It was time Luddi got to relax and Feli was determined to make sure the man did. But first… he wriggled impatiently in his seat and looked up the German hopefully. “Ve… Luddi, can I get my hug now? Please?” He nudged closer to the larger man, tugging on his sleeve insistently. “Just a quick one, si?”

made by MISSO for KAT

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Words: 578

Feliciano Vargas

Color: #003366

Notes: ---

Even if he didn’t watch the man, Ludwig could tell from the atmosphere that Feliciano was listening intently: the normally talkative bartender had gone solemnly quiet and focused. Yet even as he spoke, he couldn’t help feeling a little bit ridiculous. Maybe he had overreacted. Maybe being in such a visible position — a position with so much power at his fingertips — had made him increasingly paranoid in a way he’d never noticed. But in this case, wouldn’t it be better to be safe rather than sorry? And if he’d truly been able to rely on his coworkers keeping their information secure, maybe none of this would have happened. But why now? Who had caused this issue, and why?

When Feliciano spoke up, Ludwig gently shook his head: Feliciano had to be important to someone — at least, Ludwig certainly considered him an important friend. The brunette regularly sold himself short, and while he had to admire the man’s humility, in most cases it was undue. But when his friend’s reply shifted from speculation to concern, Ludwig hastily nodded.

”Of course I’ll be careful, I promise,” he reassured the other man. ”I don’t know enough about the network system to answer that, but… it does seem very suspicious.” Biting back a sigh, he took a long drink of his beer, letting the flavor linger on his tongue before speaking up again. ”If MI6 has any agents to spare, perhaps I can have them check it out. Luckily, the only thing they accessed of mine was a picture of my dogs.” Feliciano squeezed his hand, a reassuring gesture if there ever was one, and Ludwig exhaled slowly. Mistakes could be fixed. Even if the problem had been a worrying one, it wasn’t the end of the world. Nothing truly dangerous had been accessed. Hopefully… it would be okay.

Feliciano’s next suggestion caught him off-guard. Something nice? Ludwig didn’t have too much energy to spare, certainly not for dancing or flirting with women or exploring the town. Feliciano frequently warned him about working too much — well, as frequently as their once-a-month meetings allowed — but this was the first time the other man had suggested an activity other than sitting and drinking.

Frowning in thought, Ludwig turned the ideas over in his head. A football game might be fun… or any other kind of diversion that didn’t involve too much deep thought. ”Maybe football or, or watching some movie, or listening to music, not in a club — those places are too loud…”

As he was struggling to come up with further ideas, a tug on his sleeve drew his attention away.

”Oh— of course, I’m sorry— I didn’t mean to forget,” he apologized, his tone a bit guilty. Of all the touching that Feliciano tended towards, the bartender seemed to like hugs the most, and after all he burdened the other man with, Ludwig was plenty happy to oblige: he held his arms out and pulled the smaller man into a gentle hug, twisting slightly in the booth to make the gesture a proper one. ”Thank you for being so patient with me. I’m sorry that I kept you waiting before… I’ll try not to let it happen again.” He kept his voice quiet, but Ludwig’s words were sincere: even if his visits to the Bunker were infrequent, Feliciano was one of the few people that Ludwig hated to let down.

made by MISSO for use only by LENA

[Feliciano Vargas]

Words: 728

Tags:Ludwig Beilschmidt

Notes: 

Ah hug! From Luddi! Feliciano could barely believe his luck! The German had made it clear from the very beginning that he was not “the hugging type” and Feli had done his very best to respect that… Well, he certainly tried to… There was just something about Ludwig that seemed to drag the Italian to him like a magnet. He was just so… warm… the kind of warmth that defeated the dreary London chill in a heartbeat. But more than that, Feli could sense a certain level of need from the man before him. Ludwig hid it well, but the Italian could just feel it whenever the man was near, a sense of self-imposed isolation that felt far too similar to his own. It wasn’t all that surprising, despite their differing personalities. They both held jobs, difficult, powerful jobs that didn’t leave much room or security for companionship, never mind intimacy. Feli had accepted the fact a long time ago, and from the looks of it, so had Ludwig. But it didn’t make the isolation any easier to bear. And that’s what did it; in the end, Feli couldn’t sit so near to such loneliness, not without trying to ease it. At first Ludwig had protested, clearly uncomfortable and unaccustomed to such displays of affection, but as time had gone on, those protests grew fainter and fainter until they disappeared all together. Feli could almost believe that Ludwig even enjoyed their brief moments of contact.

Almost.

Deep down, Feli knew Lud did it mostly to humor him. But if he was truly honest with himself, he did it to comfort himself, just as much as he did it to comfort Ludwig. And so, when Ludwig wrapped his arms around Feli’s shoulders, Feli couldn’t help but sigh contentedly, buried in Lud’s familiar scent and warmth. He closed his eyes to relish the moment, far too often lately, Ludwig hadn’t been able to make it, or was far too preoccupied with such trivialities. Feliciano was so wrapped up in the moment that he almost missed Lud’s soft apology. It never failed to amaze him that such a respected and, yes, feared, politician could sound so gentle. It was hard to believe in that moment that he was the same man.

Reluctantly, Feli pulled away from the hug, still carrying Lud’s familiar scent with him as he settled back in the seat. He smiled up at Lud, a special smile that he kept in reserve specifically for the blonde. “Don’t fret so much, Luddi!” He said, patting his shoulder. “You’re busy. I know you can’t always come to see me. You have to help run a country! I’m just glad you still do from time to time. It makes me happy that you still remember me, even when you’re so busy.” He laughed and nudged Lud’s neglected drink closer to him. “Don’t worry about being late. Your table will always be here, for as long as you want it!” With that, he smiled and took a deep drink from his wineglass. Between the wine and Lud, he felt incredibly warm, his cheeks rosy, even in the dimmed light of the bar.

And as an added bonus, Luddi had even agreed to spend time with him outside of the Bunker! Feli had to work hard to quash the bubble of excitement that rose in his chest at the thought. Outings were extremely rare for the friends and Feli couldn’t believe his luck. Lud had immediately dismissed the idea of a club, which was okay with Feliciano. As much as he would love to see the blonde dance, he couldn’t help but beam at the thought of being able to have a real conversation with Ludwig, somewhere away from the music and din of other patrons.

“There’s a nice little place I know of, I think they’re showing a rerun of the Manchester game. Would you like to see it?” He suggested, trying not to sound too hopeful. “I missed it, but Beck told me it was a great game to watch.” He resisted the urge to grab Lud’s hand and instead rested his hands in his lap. With any luck, he might get to more time with his dearest friend. And maybe… just maybe… he might be able to get a few more smiles sent his way before the night was done.

made by MISSO for KAT

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Words: 540

Feliciano Vargas

Color: #003366

Notes: ---

What with Feliciano’s outgoing personality, usually it was him attempting to initiate all of the hugs. But the last time he’d visited, Ludwig had promised that he’d give the other man a proper hug, and he kept his promises (that had been part of his campaign slogan, embarrassingly enough, although it had been all true so far). From the way Feliciano sank into the gesture, Ludwig guessed that his friend liked getting hugs as much as he liked giving them. Politeness dictated that he ought to end the gesture after a few seconds, but given his late arrival and the regular imposition he made into his friend’s work hours, Ludwig didn’t break the gesture until Feliciano himself decided to. As the bartender scooted his Oettinger back towards him, he picked up the glass with relish and let the other man try to reassure him.

”I’ll fret as much as I want to,” he replied, his voice stubborn but by no means serious. Feliciano teased him a lot about worrying — about how he was going to get wrinkles early unless he lightened up a little — so he had to defend himself somehow. ”It’s a lot to ask of a place, you know, to reserve a whole table on a Friday night in a comfy bar just for one person — one person who might show up late, or might not show up at all.” It was the nights he had to call the bar and cancel that he felt the worst: he knew he disappointed not only his friend but possibly the rest of the staff of the Bunker, as they could have let his table out to other guests and made nicer tips.

Despite that, however, no one ever seemed to get frustrated with him, least of all Feliciano. Reflecting on that, Ludwig added it to this list of reasons why he liked this place so much.

His friend’s suggestion of the football match piqued his curiosity. Ludwig loved football (even if both Manchester teams dominated the British league far too often) but more than that, a match rerun meant that the place would be a little quieter: the hardcore fans would only watch the games live.

”That sounds perfect,” he said, nodding. ”I’d like to see it, we can grab a few more drinks—“ He cut himself off, then glanced towards the main bar with a slightly rueful look. ”Not that I don’t like helping support this place, but they probably won’t let us in another bar if we bring our own beers. Maybe we could sneak the chips in, though.” He felt a little ashamed at trying to circumvent the rules of courtesy like that, but the Bunker had good food, just like its music and its drinks and its staff.

Its staff… Ludwig frowned, then turned to Feliciano, a small line appearing between his eyebrows in a characteristic sign of anxiety. ”Will it be alright, though?” he asked, the hint of a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. ”I already took you away from working, but… I don’t want to get you in any kind of trouble, not for my sake.”

made by MISSO for use only by LENA

[Feliciano Vargas]

Words: 564

Tags:Ludwig Beilschmidt

Notes: Poor obliviously infatuated Feli...

Feliciano blinked, surprised as always about Ludwig’s concern for him. His patrons were usually kind and friendly to him, but their conversations were rarely focused on his life. Feliciano didn’t mind it usually, it was part of his job, after all, to make those who sit at his bar feel welcomed, feel special and wanted. It was one of the best parts of his job, bolstering the mood of his regulars with a warm smile and a drink and making them forget about their troubles for a while.

But Ludwig was different, had been different for a long time. Ludwig always worried; it was an integral part of him. No matter the situation, Ludwig considered every possible outcome and had a contingency plan in place to respond accordingly; it was what made him such an effective politician after all. And though it was only natural for Ludwig to extend his worry to those in his life, Feliciano couldn’t help but feel honored, knowing that Ludwig actually considered his well-being. All too often, Feliciano was a means to an end, a smiling face and a warm laugh that soothed frayed nerves, a tool to resolve a tiring problem plaguing the Underground. So when Lud actually voiced concern about Feliciano, looking at him with that adorable crease in his brow, Feli couldn’t help but respond.

“Awwww, Luddi!” He all but tackled the larger man, unable to resist the urge to indulge in another hug. He looked up at the politician, his amber colored eyes dancing fondly. “You really are too kind to worry about the Bunker and me…. But I promise, I’ll be fine! I never get in trouble for hanging out with you! Boss is all too happy to have someone so important as a regular, he wants to keep you happy and coming back! That’s why we have a third bartender on these nights! Besides it’s only once a month, I can easily make it up! Luddi shouldn’t worry, so long as you keep coming to the Bunker, I’ll be here to welcome you for a long time yet, I promise!” Deciding he’d pushed his luck enough, Feliciano pulled away and jumped to his feet, anxious to steal away with his friend. It was past midnight, late for most people, but for Feli, the night was young. And with Ludwig at his side, the Italian couldn’t help but be excited about the promise the hours ahead held for them. Even if Ludwig was an anxious person by nature, just the thought of having the man all to himself, gave Feliciano the strangest feeling of calm. There was just something about the MP that made Feliciano feel like a different person. Despite their difference in education, in philosophy, in standing, Ludwig never seemed to see anything but the best in Feliciano. And for the brief hours that Feliciano spent in his company, it was easy to imagine that he was the person, Luddi seemed to believe he was.

“Don’t worry about the chips, Beck would be all too happy to eat them! Come on! If we hurry, I bet we can catch the beginning of the game!” He finished the rest of his drink and tugged eagerly on Lud’s hand, beaming broadly. Normally, he loved the Bunker, but now that his friend had actually agreed to spend time alone with him, he couldn’t wait to escape.

made by MISSO for KAT

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Words: 585

Feliciano Vargas

Color: #003366

Notes: There we go

He hadn’t been expecting the half-tackled hug from the other man, and it was only his own strength that kept Ludwig from falling right over onto the booth seat. But the happy look Feliciano gave him in return made up for the surprise hug, although Ludwig could only guess at what he’d done to earn such affection until the bartender explained himself. It was some small relief to hear that Feliciano wouldn’t get in trouble for any kind of absence and that the bar had even prepared for him to be MIA for the evening (Ludwig felt a little embarrassed to learn that apparently his presence had affected the work schedule of their employees so drastically).

”Well, I don’t plan to stop visiting here anytime soon,” he reassured Feliciano as he was released from the hug. ”So that’s very good to hear… and I hope it helps you and your coworkers.” Even if his life got busier (although Ludwig had difficulty picturing how he could fit even more work into his schedule), he’d always make sure to make time for the bar, if only because he had friends here. To him, these kinds of relationships were irreplaceable, especially these days when he had so little time outside of work to meet new people.

As Feliciano finished his drink and hopped up from the booth, Ludwig turned back to his beer; of course, he wouldn’t be allowed to take it with him, and imitating the other, he drained his glass. Just the one beer wasn’t enough to make him tipsy, but on an empty stomach the alcohol quickly became a comfortable warmth in his veins, and he took a little longer than usual tugging his gloves back on before standing up to get his overcoat. Once he’d gathered his things, he reached for his wallet to pay, but Feliciano took a hold of his hand while it was on the way to his pocket.

”Oh—“ Ludwig knew he should have been used to Feliciano grabbing his hand by now, as it certainly happened often enough, but somehow it always caught him a little off-guard. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was because no one else he knew did that. The bartender was the most physically affectionate person he knew, but even when he expected the gestures, he could never predict when one might occur.

”Just add the beer to my tab, in that case,” he called out to the workers behind the bar. ”I’ll pay for it the next time. And — feel free to eat my chips, I’ll pick those up too. My treat.” Of course there would be a next time; there always was. With that resolved, Ludwig felt like he could leave the bar with a clean conscience and allowed Feliciano to tug him towards the door.

Compared to the warmth and noise of the bar, the street outside felt dark and silent, and Ludwig could feel the London fog starting to cling to his skin. However, the chill of the evening reached no further than that; the combination of the alcohol and the welcome company had a pleasant way of keeping him feeling warm.

”Well… lead the way,” he spoke, turning to Feliciano with a nod, and although his mouth remained a calm straight line, there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. Despite how poorly his day had begun, this was certainly shaping up to be a pleasant evening.

made by MISSO for use only by LENA