Work Text:
Roderich had to double check everything before he left. His keys were in his pocket, the windows were locked, he had his backpack full of folders and spare pencils -- everything was accounted for. Forgetting something meant spending an additional twenty minutes looping back through the city, if not more. Roderich had a very specific loop-around path he followed, one that Gilbert had marked out for him on a printed out Google map. He grabbed his phone before heading out. That was kind of important.
As he was locking the door, he noticed a short, grumpy man standing outside his neighbor's apartment. That was somewhat surprising and Roderich almost made a face as he remembered what Gilbert had suggested; nobody who made bike horn noises at night could be considered a musician. There was no melody, no rhythm, no sense of order. After testing the door once to make sure it was locked, Roderich hurried past the surly man, but not without noticing the plastic tin of pie in his hands. Roderich didn't want to know, he didn't want to know.
The wind was picking up, Roderich noted as he made his way across the parking lot. Everything was always grey that time of year. The vast use of concrete and pavement didn't help a whole lot. The way to Gilbert's workplace was full of the usual sights, like the cafe they pretended to consider but was actually way too expensive. The subtle tones of Beethoven and Mozart were often lost with the sounds of driving -- the engine's growl, the pull of tires against the road. Besides, it reminded him of how Gilbert played Grand Theft Auto. One doesn't smash into other cars, driving 100mph through narrow streets, and shooting up innocent civilians to some of the world's best compositions. His own collection of CDs were often used for the times Gilbert and Roderich drove together, cranked up to the extreme.
Gilbert had left early that morning without a lunch and Roderich wasn't about to let him spend money on fast food that probably took half as much to make himself. He had packed extra, just in case Ludwig needed some too.
The building was mostly plain, grey walls with "Beilschmidt Industries" in black letter over the door. A list of services they provided along with hours of operation was printed on the glass. Gilbert and his brother were the only workers there, though business had been picking up, so they had been looking for another employee, but without much luck.
"Welcome to BS Industries!" Gilbert called out when the little bell on the door chimed.
A soccer ball came sailing out of one of the other rooms, smacking Gilbert in the head.
"I told you to stop greeting people like that," Ludwig said, stepping out to glare at his brother. He was always smaller than how Roderich remembered him. It must have been his broad, barrel-like chest and shoulders or that he was built like a wall. But he was only a little bit taller than Gilbert, which meant he was hardly much taller than Roderich.
Gilbert rubbed at his head. "Foul!" he shouted and pointed at Ludwig in an accusing manner. "You used your hands. Foul!"
"It's only me," Roderich said, not really sure what his face was doing. He loved them dearly, but sometimes he had to wonder how they got any business at all.
Ludwig bent to retrieve the soccer ball as Gilbert grinned and leaned forward on the desk he had been standing at. "Did'ja miss me already? It's only been a few hours," he said, waggling his eyebrows in a way that made Roderich wish that he had the soccer ball.
"I came to give you your lunch," Roderich said and plopped the plastic bag down in front of him. "For you -- and Ludwig, if you're interested."
While Gilbert's brother didn't say anything, he definitely eyed the bag and nodded.
"I have to get going," Roderich said and lifted an eyebrow. "I'll see you in the evening."
"Wait!" Gilbert said and almost launched himself over the desk to grab at Roderich's jacket. "That's it?"
Roderich frowned, not really sure what Gilbert was getting at. "I came to give you your lunch," he said. "And I've done that."
Gilbert's mouth twisted a bit as he let go, skipped around the desk, and then grabbed a very confused Roderich's face. Roderich could feel his face heating up as he realized what it was Gilbert had meant. The kiss was short and full of a lot of pressure, probably because Roderich hadn't understood at first and that was Gilbert's passive-aggressive way of going "butthead" at him.
Ludwig began hitting the soccer ball against his knee as he made his way to the back, for which Roderich was secretly grateful. He wasn't ever really as enthusiastic about public displays of affection, even when it was only in front of relatives.
"See you later," Gilbert said, wrinkling his nose in what Roderich could only describe as a cheeky smile.
"Uh huh," Roderich said and rolled his eyes.
Gilbert's expression settled into a smirk and Roderich knew he was watching him as he made his way back out to the car.