Feliciano had to steel himself to call Alfred. He was over him, no doubt, but just getting Alfred to answer his own damn phone was an Olympic sport. Also with Al’s ever expanding cult of personality, Feliciano had no idea who was in or who was out of the inner circle. Not that he was desperate enough to start calling Al’s friends. On top of that it was six PM on Sunday Funday so it was likely the whole lot of them were three sheets to the wind.
The first time Feliciano called all he heard was blasting music; the second time he got very sweet, but very intoxicated girl. The third time he Mathew, sweet and reliable Mathew, who promised to tell his brother that Feliciano called. Judging by the way their house was thumping in the background, Feliciano assumed that it would be awhile before Al was able.
He occupied his time by cleaning his loft. Of course, cleaning was a strong term for what he was doing, which was scooping things off the floor and cramming them on shelves. This lasted until he got tired of it a mere forty-five minutes later. Then he decided he was exhausted and laid down. He could have worked on any number of school projects, but it seemed pointless because he had workshop on Tuesday, and he knew better than to get too far before critiques.
He could always count on workshop to tell him he sucked.
Well, that wasn’t fair; they never doubted his talent only his commitment. They all thought he didn’t have the stomach to be a starving artist. Listening to it start to rumble again, maybe he quite literally didn’t. He tried not to think about it too much.
He just stared at his ceiling for a while, it was half painted in stars from a long abandoned project to spruce up the loft. He jumped when he phone buzzed with a barrage of text messages. He leaned off his mattress to grab it off the floor, almost losing his balance in the process. The texts were all from Al. The first blank, the second eloquently said ‘fuck’, the third said ‘dinner?’ and number four was…a whale.
Feliciano had to laugh to himself the whole progression was so very Al. He pecked out a response asking where and when for dinner. Asking where was just a formality as he knew Al always chose the diner. So he answer wasn’t terribly surprising: ‘Diner. 10 PM?’ Feliciano gave his approval and sighed. He wasn’t entirely sure how to pay for this without his last resort credit card. So he heaved himself to his feet to retrieve it from his freezer. The reason his credit card was in his freezer was simple: it was frozen. After a semi-disastrous first year with it he had decided that simply denoting it as EMERGENCY in his mind didn’t work; it had to be hard to obtain to give him ample time to decided what was or wasn’t emergent. Currently tow lines of thought were running through his head:
1. Learning about Ludwig (non-emergent)
2. Eating(emergent)
But the harder he thought about it the more muddled the line between the two states became. After all, making new friends (boyfriends, future husbands), was important, and maybe he could stand to lose a few pounds. The jeans he wore on dates and outings agreed, they could stand to see some action, and last time he checked they were hard to wiggle past his hips. But he did love food. Maybe both situations were emergent, and therefore the use of his card was entirely necessary. He knew Nonno, who paid the bill, would agree. Nonno believed both food and love were important, he had once told Feliciano that food was part of the language of love. Feliciano does some wiggling and jumping to get into his non-paint spattered jeans, and set off for the diner at the appropriate time. The diner was a ridiculous walk from his place, but the buses were too unreliable at that time of night. Last time he had ridden the bus he had woken up at the end of the line, which was both embarrassing and terribly inconvenient.
By the time he made it there, he was almost 10 minutes late, but it was likely that Al had been late too, so it evened out. Al had already begun to order, Al had a coffee at one elbow and soda at the other, Both of which he almost knocked over when he waved enthusiastically at Feliciano. Like Feliciano would miss him in a place that only had 12 booths.Al stood when Feliciano got near and clapped him so hard on the back that his knees buckled a bit.
“Hey man,” Al drawled slurping at his soda. Or Coke as Al would call it regardless of its actual flavor. “ I was surprised when Mattie said you called, pleasantly of course.”
“Yeah I thought we could catch up.” Feliciano smiled, and he was pleased that for the first time in a long time with Al, it didn’t feel forced. When the waitress appeared he ordered hash browns, an omelet with everything, and a black coffee. Al practically ordered the whole menu, finishing with a wink that made their middle aged waitress blush. Al was a professional flirt, especially when it could earn him an extra scoop of ice cream on his pie.
Talking with Al had always been easy. He was a chatterbox, Feliciano was a chatterbox, so between them they had enough conversation for twenty people. It wasn’t even hindered, by the speedy arrival of their food, neither of them being too shy or mannered to talk with their mouths full. They talk about the weather, their jobs, they majors, their respective brothers, and at Al’s insistence who they thought would win every major sporting event that year. Well, Feliciano mostly just listened while Al got excited about the last one. He knew the time was nearing to segue into asking about Ludwig, but he wasn’t sure how.
So as Feliciano tended to do, he went in like a wrecking ball.
“Do you know Ludwig Beilschmidt?” He blurted, interrupting Al in the middle of a rant about baseball. He then immediately regretted it when Al almost spit a mouthful of soda on the table. Al coughed a few times, and pounded himself on the chest before he got himself under control. “Of course I know my department’s resident hard ass and know-it-all, how do you - -oh-- Jesus H. Christ,” Al narrowed his eyes behind his glasses “ I know that fucking look. You like him. Feli, no one likes him. Where did you meet? Social rejects anon? God it wasn’t Grindr was it? I can see his weirdly specific profile now. Did it he end it with must love dogs and BDS-“
“Alfred.” Feliciano hissed, overly loud. He may have been a ‘social reject’ at times, but he certainly knew when it was appropriate to talk about Grindr. Which was never. Feliciano had no idea what the first rule of Grindr was, but he knew it should be like Fight Club. Alfred blinked then looked around sheepishly “Sorry. I just- Ludwig Beilschmidt, really? I didn’t even know he swung that way.”
Feliciano’s heart sank a little.
“I mean I guess the stick up his ass is big enough, who knows. “ Al shrugged.
Feliciano rubbed the bridge of his nose, a habit he had picked up from Lovino. Feliciano rarely thought hard enough to get headaches that weren’t alcohol or caffeine related; Life was headache for Lovino. “Al I just met him at Elixir. I’m curious, that’s all.”
Al pursed his lips “Well he is handsome enough, and your type, physically, has your personality type shifted to somewhere between wet blanket and cardboard? Okay, that’s mean. I’m being mean. I’m sorry. I just get tired of Mr. Beilschmidt upstaging me. I am the hero, after all.”
“I can’t believe anyone could upstage you Al.” Feliciano smiled sweetly. He meant that, Al was unforgettable.
“Oh believe me, this guy can. He breezed in as a transfer last semester and fucked up the whole curve. He is an engineering machine. I seriously wonder if he is an android sent to play an elaborate prank. Actually, that would be cooler than him being a genius I guess. Maybe you can teach him how to love.” Al winked.
Feliciano ignored the wink, Al’s charm no longer worked on him, much. “So you hate him because he has better grades?”
“Woah,woah, woah. Who said he had better grades? He’s just better at solo work is all. Group work is an important part of the profession; it isn’t like he’ll be taking tests his whole life.” Al removed his glasses and rubbed at an invisible speck before continuing,” Who knows, maybe he’s great and I’m just being pessimistic. I get like that when I feel a hangover coming on.”
“It’s ten o’clock at night?”
“Man, I’ve been drinking since 3. You gotta get maximum relaxation in on the weekend. Anyways you should be careful about LB.”
Feliciano sighed for what felt like the trillionth time that day, “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Al laughed, but not unkindly, “You wear your heart on your damn sleeve is why. Look, I will put out some feelers for you, I’m nice like that.”
Feliciano looked at him in what he hoped was a stern fashion “ You aren’t going to just walk up and ask are you?”
Al clutched his chest in indignation “ I would never. I’ll have Bonneyfoy do it.”
This time, Feliciano almost spit liquid on the table.
These updates do not disappoint, A!A. I was a bit apprehensive about seeing Feliciano with his ex, but these two fit together so well as the "ex's-on-bad-terms" type friends, if there's such a thing. I love the way Feliciano just blurted out the question when he got stressed about how to go about saying it, it seems so him. I also had to look up what grindr means, but, uh...okay.
Anyways, I like how this fic is definitely going somewhere rather than rambling off on a tangent. I'm excited to see what happens next. Good on Feliciano for actually taking action (WHAT? You mean people can do that in romance stories??) and doing something about his crush. Even if France may not be the wisest choice. Or actually, he's perfect!
Anon is going to be a dick again and point out this line: "It wasn’t even hindered, by the speedy arrival of their food, neither of them being too shy or mannered to talk with their mouths full. They talk about the weather, their jobs, they majors, their respective brothers, and at Al’s insistence(,) who they thought would win every major sporting event that year." Just so you make this even better in case you plan on de-anoning~
Thanks for the compliments, and Grindr is interesting I ran screaming from its straight counterpart Tindr some months ago haha. Don't feel like a jerk for pointing out errors it is helpful because I have no beta to speak of and tend to post late at night.
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The Love Song of F. Vargas 4/?
(Anonymous) 2014-04-22 04:41 am (UTC)(link)The first time Feliciano called all he heard was blasting music; the second time he got very sweet, but very intoxicated girl. The third time he Mathew, sweet and reliable Mathew, who promised to tell his brother that Feliciano called. Judging by the way their house was thumping in the background, Feliciano assumed that it would be awhile before Al was able.
He occupied his time by cleaning his loft. Of course, cleaning was a strong term for what he was doing, which was scooping things off the floor and cramming them on shelves. This lasted until he got tired of it a mere forty-five minutes later. Then he decided he was exhausted and laid down. He could have worked on any number of school projects, but it seemed pointless because he had workshop on Tuesday, and he knew better than to get too far before critiques.
He could always count on workshop to tell him he sucked.
Well, that wasn’t fair; they never doubted his talent only his commitment. They all thought he didn’t have the stomach to be a starving artist. Listening to it start to rumble again, maybe he quite literally didn’t. He tried not to think about it too much.
He just stared at his ceiling for a while, it was half painted in stars from a long abandoned project to spruce up the loft. He jumped when he phone buzzed with a barrage of text messages. He leaned off his mattress to grab it off the floor, almost losing his balance in the process.
The texts were all from Al. The first blank, the second eloquently said ‘fuck’, the third said ‘dinner?’ and number four was…a whale.
Feliciano had to laugh to himself the whole progression was so very Al. He pecked out a response asking where and when for dinner. Asking where was just a formality as he knew Al always chose the diner. So he answer wasn’t terribly surprising: ‘Diner. 10 PM?’ Feliciano gave his approval and sighed. He wasn’t entirely sure how to pay for this without his last resort credit card. So he heaved himself to his feet to retrieve it from his freezer. The reason his credit card was in his freezer was simple: it was frozen. After a semi-disastrous first year with it he had decided that simply denoting it as EMERGENCY in his mind didn’t work; it had to be hard to obtain to give him ample time to decided what was or wasn’t emergent.
Currently tow lines of thought were running through his head:
1. Learning about Ludwig (non-emergent)
2. Eating(emergent)
But the harder he thought about it the more muddled the line between the two states became. After all, making new friends (boyfriends, future husbands), was important, and maybe he could stand to lose a few pounds. The jeans he wore on dates and outings agreed, they could stand to see some action, and last time he checked they were hard to wiggle past his hips. But he did love food. Maybe both situations were emergent, and therefore the use of his card was entirely necessary. He knew Nonno, who paid the bill, would agree. Nonno believed both food and love were important, he had once told Feliciano that food was part of the language of love.
Feliciano does some wiggling and jumping to get into his non-paint spattered jeans, and set off for the diner at the appropriate time. The diner was a ridiculous walk from his place, but the buses were too unreliable at that time of night. Last time he had ridden the bus he had woken up at the end of the line, which was both embarrassing and terribly inconvenient.
By the time he made it there, he was almost 10 minutes late, but it was likely that Al had been late too, so it evened out. Al had already begun to order, Al had a coffee at one elbow and soda at the other, Both of which he almost knocked over when he waved enthusiastically at Feliciano. Like Feliciano would miss him in a place that only had 12 booths.Al stood when Feliciano got near and clapped him so hard on the back that his knees buckled a bit.
“Hey man,” Al drawled slurping at his soda. Or Coke as Al would call it regardless of its actual flavor. “ I was surprised when Mattie said you called, pleasantly of course.”
“Yeah I thought we could catch up.” Feliciano smiled, and he was pleased that for the first time in a long time with Al, it didn’t feel forced. When the waitress appeared he ordered hash browns, an omelet with everything, and a black coffee. Al practically ordered the whole menu, finishing with a wink that made their middle aged waitress blush. Al was a professional flirt, especially when it could earn him an extra scoop of ice cream on his pie.
Talking with Al had always been easy. He was a chatterbox, Feliciano was a chatterbox, so between them they had enough conversation for twenty people. It wasn’t even hindered, by the speedy arrival of their food, neither of them being too shy or mannered to talk with their mouths full. They talk about the weather, their jobs, they majors, their respective brothers, and at Al’s insistence who they thought would win every major sporting event that year. Well, Feliciano mostly just listened while Al got excited about the last one. He knew the time was nearing to segue into asking about Ludwig, but he wasn’t sure how.
So as Feliciano tended to do, he went in like a wrecking ball.
“Do you know Ludwig Beilschmidt?” He blurted, interrupting Al in the middle of a rant about baseball. He then immediately regretted it when Al almost spit a mouthful of soda on the table. Al coughed a few times, and pounded himself on the chest before he got himself under control.
“Of course I know my department’s resident hard ass and know-it-all, how do you - -oh-- Jesus H. Christ,” Al narrowed his eyes behind his glasses “ I know that fucking look. You like him. Feli, no one likes him. Where did you meet? Social rejects anon? God it wasn’t Grindr was it? I can see his weirdly specific profile now. Did it he end it with must love dogs and BDS-“
“Alfred.” Feliciano hissed, overly loud. He may have been a ‘social reject’ at times, but he certainly knew when it was appropriate to talk about Grindr. Which was never. Feliciano had no idea what the first rule of Grindr was, but he knew it should be like Fight Club.
Alfred blinked then looked around sheepishly “Sorry. I just- Ludwig Beilschmidt, really? I didn’t even know he swung that way.”
Feliciano’s heart sank a little.
“I mean I guess the stick up his ass is big enough, who knows. “ Al shrugged.
Feliciano rubbed the bridge of his nose, a habit he had picked up from Lovino. Feliciano rarely thought hard enough to get headaches that weren’t alcohol or caffeine related; Life was headache for Lovino. “Al I just met him at Elixir. I’m curious, that’s all.”
Al pursed his lips “Well he is handsome enough, and your type, physically, has your personality type shifted to somewhere between wet blanket and cardboard? Okay, that’s mean. I’m being mean. I’m sorry. I just get tired of Mr. Beilschmidt upstaging me. I am the hero, after all.”
“I can’t believe anyone could upstage you Al.” Feliciano smiled sweetly. He meant that, Al was unforgettable.
“Oh believe me, this guy can. He breezed in as a transfer last semester and fucked up the whole curve. He is an engineering machine. I seriously wonder if he is an android sent to play an elaborate prank. Actually, that would be cooler than him being a genius I guess. Maybe you can teach him how to love.” Al winked.
Feliciano ignored the wink, Al’s charm no longer worked on him, much. “So you hate him because he has better grades?”
“Woah,woah, woah. Who said he had better grades? He’s just better at solo work is all. Group work is an important part of the profession; it isn’t like he’ll be taking tests his whole life.” Al removed his glasses and rubbed at an invisible speck before continuing,” Who knows, maybe he’s great and I’m just being pessimistic. I get like that when I feel a hangover coming on.”
“It’s ten o’clock at night?”
“Man, I’ve been drinking since 3. You gotta get maximum relaxation in on the weekend. Anyways you should be careful about LB.”
Feliciano sighed for what felt like the trillionth time that day, “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Al laughed, but not unkindly, “You wear your heart on your damn sleeve is why. Look, I will put out some feelers for you, I’m nice like that.”
Feliciano looked at him in what he hoped was a stern fashion “ You aren’t going to just walk up and ask are you?”
Al clutched his chest in indignation “ I would never. I’ll have Bonneyfoy do it.”
This time, Feliciano almost spit liquid on the table.
OP
(Anonymous) 2014-04-22 05:56 am (UTC)(link)Thanks for the great update! I hope to see the next one soon!
a!a
(Anonymous) 2014-04-22 10:06 am (UTC)(link)Re: The Love Song of F. Vargas 4/?
(Anonymous) 2014-04-22 08:05 am (UTC)(link)Anyways, I like how this fic is definitely going somewhere rather than rambling off on a tangent. I'm excited to see what happens next. Good on Feliciano for actually taking action (WHAT? You mean people can do that in romance stories??) and doing something about his crush. Even if France may not be the wisest choice. Or actually, he's perfect!
Anon is going to be a dick again and point out this line:
"It wasn’t even hindered, by the speedy arrival of their food, neither of them being too shy or mannered to talk with their mouths full. They talk about the weather, their jobs, they majors, their respective brothers, and at Al’s insistence(,) who they thought would win every major sporting event that year."
Just so you make this even better in case you plan on de-anoning~
Re: The Love Song of F. Vargas 4/?
(Anonymous) 2014-04-22 08:06 am (UTC)(link)/facepalm
a!a
(Anonymous) 2014-04-22 10:10 am (UTC)(link)