Saboteurs Require Silence

I lost the original. So much better. ;-; GerIta.

There, um, might be some minor smut. Just… Ignore it…

Ludwig knew Feliciano could talk. He had heard him.

It had been the typical pasty, yellow day. The cars were bumper to bumper on the street, their smog drifting up and casting strange shadows on the pedestrians below. Ludwig waded through the crowd, careful to avoid bumping shoulders with the grimier subjects of the city. A man collided with him, spinning on his heel but quickly moving away.

“Sorry,” he called over his shoulder, giving Ludwig a grin and small wave.

Ludwig had been struck; who said sorry?

Two weeks later, the man arrived at Ludwig’s work, bearing the nametag “Feliciano.”

It wasn’t impossible that Feliciano’s tongue had been cut out in the interim—the question was why. Management usually only selected the conspirators from the ‘seedy’ side of town. Feliciano showing up wordless at Ludwig’s office was, quite frankly, bizarre.

Ludwig stared at his black computer screen. The green cursor blinked, and Ludwig wondered idly the rate at which it disappeared. He leaned back, rubbing his eyes and taking off his glasses.

There was a loud knock at the opening to his office, and Ludwig spun around in his chair. Feliciano stood, balancing a box of computer paper against his hip. He smiled and waved his free hands, fingers twirling through the air.

Ludwig cleared his throat and stood up. “Ah, I was wondering where… Well, you usually come earlier.” Ludwig shook his head and started to come around his desk.

Feliciano held up his hand, eyes nearly closing as he smiled. He hefted the box and slammed it on Ludwig’s desk, pointing to himself and then the printer. Ludwig sat back in his chair and watched as Feliciano replaced the paper.

“Is it a hard ‘C?’” Ludwig finally asked, breaking the silence.

Feliciano jumped slightly and looked up. That same contented smile appeared, and he shook his head. He held up his fist, obviously in explanation.

Ludwig looked around Feliciano toward the doorway, then back at the mute. “You can speak,” he said softly, “Management hardly ever—“

The fear that flashed across Feliciano’s face made Ludwig cringe.

“No, I’m sorry, I—“

Feliciano shook his head, his lips twitching upwards for a moment before falling. He held his hands up and backed away through the doorway, leaving a very confused and worried Ludwig.

A few seconds later, Feliciano scampered back in to collect the empty paper box. His free hand danced around his head and then he was gone.

And so, Ludwig waited for Feliciano’s return. He was almost tempted to report Feliciano to Management, but Ludwig couldn’t be sure it had been Feliciano he had bumped in to. That fearful expression had Ludwig thinking though.

It took another week, but Feliciano was back with more paper and some pens. Ludwig watched as Feliciano passed his office door three times before finally working up the nerve to enter. The mute gave Ludwig a shy smile and walked over, placing the box on the desk.

A sticky note.

Ludwig blinked down at the piece of paper before back up at Feliciano.

           

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Ludwig adjusted his tie. “It sounds… Foreign.”

Feliciano shrugged, smile a little less forced as he replaced the paper.

Ludwig drummed his fingers on the desk. “I’m not from here, actually. My family was captured.”

Brown eyes flicked to Ludwig’s blue. Feliciano raised his eyebrows, motioning with his hand for Ludwig to continue. The supply boy collapsed in the chair opposite to Ludwig, tilting his head to the side.

Ludwig, having gained Feliciano’s attention, found he had no idea what to do with it. He sat straighter in his chair, turning slightly to face his computer. “Ah, when Britain invaded Old Germany—before it reformed. My grandpa was a miner and now…” Ludwig ran his index finger along the computer keyboard.

Feliciano hummed and nodded. He stood up, gave Ludwig a little wave and a smile that made Ludwig’s fingers tingle, and then the supply boy was gone.

Things proceeded. Feliciano would come in with a new sticky note for Ludwig, a smile, and would listen to Ludwig talk. Sometimes, he would come in with a blank piece of paper and sketch Ludwig working or the city outside the window.

Ludwig had a collection of these drawings at his home.

Feliciano never fully explained his strange language with his hands. He had one but Ludwig wasn’t privy to it. Still, it was interesting to watch. Ludwig often caught sight of Feliciano talking to other lower ranking workers. The way his hands carved through the air… Ludwig ached to know what the man was saying. If Management didn’t track internet searches, Ludwig would have learned.

Tonight, Ludwig had stayed late. He typed methodically on his computer, his back burning. If he didn’t leave his office soon, the street cleaners would force him to stay in the building overnight.

A knock.

Ludwig looked up, blinking. Feliciano stood, playing nervously with his hands.

“Feliciano, what are you…”

The mute quickly walked across Ludwig’s office and around his desk. Ludwig spun in his chair, confused and mildly irritated. And then Feliciano smashed his lips against Ludwig’s pushing him back.

It was strange to kiss someone with half a tongue. If Ludwig had been standing, his legs would have given out from underneath him. As it was, Feliciano straddled him.

Ludwig let out a faint noise that was halfway between a groan and a sigh. Feliciano began to work on Ludwig’s shirt buttons, lips moving against Ludwig’s as he mouthed things to himself. Ludwig wished he could hear what the other man was saying.

Ludwig pulled at Feliciano’s own shirt, running his hands up Feliciano’s back. Feliciano leaned back and made a face, snatching Ludwig’s hands and rubbing them together. Embarrassment flooded through Ludwig and he began to pull away.

Feliciano smiled and shook his head and caught Ludwig’s hands once again, kissing his fingers. And then, they were kissing once again. Feliciano unfastened Ludwig’s belt, batting away the man’s protests with smiles. Soon, the protests turned to moans against Feliciano’s neck.

In the haze of pleasure, Ludwig figured he should probably do something, too.

“You,” he gasped, reaching for Feliciano’s belt.

The mute shook his head, stroking faster to distract Ludwig.

Ludwig didn’t remember finishing as much as he remembered Feliciano laughing at his embarrassment. Eventually, Feliciano draped his arms around Ludwig’s neck and dragged him to the ground. He collapsed on top of Ludwig, sighing contentedly. Ludwig fell asleep to Feliciano’s breathing.

Red.

Ludwig gazed up at the ceiling of his office. It was bathed in a bright red. He sat up, eyes drawn to the red screen of his computer.

VIRUS  SUCCESSFUL 

Feliciano was nowhere to be found.

Lukas sighed and took a sip of his water. He looked around the small tavern. The man he had hired was late. Very late. This was not off to a good start. If the man didn’t come, Lukas wouldn’t be able to go. He sighed again, figuring he would give him another five minutes before leaving. He kept his eyes on the crowd, watching and waiting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of armor. Assuming that was the hired sword, he walked over and tapped his shoulder. “You’re late.” His voiced held a note of annoyance. Lukas didn’t like to be kept waiting. Especially not in a seedy bar.

alfred-f-jones-world-hero

chaosandfury said:

I am told that one can obtain money through work. You are a mech of power. Do you have work to be done?

"I’m not into the real seedy stuff if that is what you are asking." Well… not always, "I do need some information on certain mechs. One’s I need to keep tabs on."

Sometimes I can’t get over the fact that 18-year-old Dean would have looked like this:

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