Work Text:
Berlin, 1990
The basement of the new house was still unfinished, bare concrete and exposed pipes lit by a single hanging bulb.
Gilbert stood in what would eventually become his bathroom, staring at the space with deep suspicion. “That’s not going to fit a bath, is it?”
Ludwig glanced up from the floor plans spread across a box nearby and shook his head once.
The silence that followed was brief, but noticeable. Gilbert looked back at the empty corner where the shower would go, jaw tight in that carefully casual way he got when he was trying not to make something into a problem.
Then Feli’s expression brightened. “I have an idea.”
Gilbert snorted softly. “Let’s hear it.”
“What if you installed the shower yourself,” Feli said, “so you knew with one hundred percent certainty it couldn’t be tempered with and nothing but water was coming out. Would you be able to shower then?”
Gilbert blinked.
Beside him, Ludwig had gone still.
“That’s…” Gilbert rubbed the back of his neck. “not a bad idea.”
“I know,” Feli said smugly. “I’m a genius.”
Gilbert ignored that and crouched beside one of the unopened boxes stacked against the wall, pulling it closer. Ludwig handed him a knife, and together they cut through the tape.
Inside, every piece was still factory-sealed in plastic and cardboard. Pipes. Fixtures. The shower head itself wrapped tightly enough to gleam under the basement light.
Gilbert picked up the valve assembly first, turning it over carefully in his hands.
Feli observed this for roughly ten seconds.
“Well,” he announced, stepping back toward the stairs, “when you two figure it out, I’ll be upstairs.”
Gilbert looked up. “What? Don’t want to try to install a shower with us?”
Feli looked genuinely offended. “Do I look like a plumber to you?”
Ludwig didn’t look up from the instruction manual, but Feli caught the faintest trace of amusement on his face as he escaped upstairs before either of them could assign him manual labor.