Damage Control || Gilbert, Ludwig {MO}

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 520

Tags:

Notes: Gilbert Beilschmidt Ludwig A. Beilschmidt

It seemed like Alfred's life had somehow become much more of planning than doing.

With Ludwig in the house, Alfred wasn't exactly as mobile to plan his next con. The Freedom Fighters, annoyingly, infuriatingly, weren't getting much done. Alfred couldn't fight injustice on his own. But against Russia...well, the price to pay wasn't exactly pretty. Alfred had had a small taste of it himself.

Never mind all that though. Things had been better as of late. Well...other than the minor run in that night he'd brought Ludwig back. That could've gone a whole lot worse now that Alfred thought about that... He winced lightly to himself, his hand subconsciously wandering up towards his neck. Alfred didn't have many doubts as to how the evening would've gone if Ludwig hadn't been there. He didn't need to undergo that a second time.

Still. Things had been quiet since then. No crisp white notes folded on his desk with robotic letters, telling him to stay put, or to talk, or simply stating that if he didn't remember his place, a reminder would happily be given to him.

But those had not shown up since Ludwig had come and Alfred had suddenly realized that the apartment was so much nicer when it was filled with someone other than just him. Ludwig didn't speak all that much, but he liked to cook and clean and it was just nice having someone there. Maëlle, of course, was happy to see someone else as well and the three of them had gone on runs several times. Not the past few days. Alfred had suddenly realized that he was letting some of his other affairs slip. He had to get Ludwig chipped at some point...had to pull another con to keep bringing money in...had to go buy some more dog food for My...grab some groceries on the way there...perhaps he'd do the chipping when he was buying the dog food, that'd make sense, right?

Alfred didn't want to get Ludwig chipped. Not in the slightest. Because he was morally against it, but also because it ruined the illusion that this was simply the way things were. Pretty damn near happy.

But that...all that planning and organizing and doing could wait until tomorrow. Right now, all Alfred cared about was which Marvel movie they should watch. He had forgotten how nice it was to have a friend (well...at least, someone to spend time with...Alfred really didn't know how Ludwig thought of him). A dog was great, but he craved human company as well.

Alfred's thoughts were broken when there was a sharp, insistent knocking on the door. Alfred frowned, eyes narrowing. No one was supposed to be dropping by, really no one was ever supposed to drop by...

Man up. No psycho knocks on the door to kill you.

Alfred couldn't help but think of the gun upstairs.

He peered through the peephole. The tension eased out of his shoulders, though the questions still remained as he unlocked the door and opened it. "Gilbert?" Alfred began. "What are you doing—?"

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

    My words are my faith...
        To hell with our good name...

Gilbert was shaking as he stood outside the door, adrenaline still coursing through him. It was a miracle that he was even there, still free to make his way to Al’s apartment. Strange, how the place once felt like a sanctuary, a reprieve from the harsh reality of his life. But now, as he stood there, fingernails digging into his palms, he saw it for what it was—a death trap. Even if Gil had escaped jail, he was under no illusions that he was clear from suspicion, it was why he waited until night, why he took great measures to sneak over. It would be stupid to assume he wouldn’t be watched for the foreseeable future. But he had to warn his brother, he had to keep him safe. He was so stupid to believe that they had got a break, so selfish—the promise of seeing, of physically touching his little brother again, blinded him to the warning signs. He should have known that something wasn’t right, that a conman could never have bought a mutant legitimately. It was too much of a risk.

The problem is, Gilbert still didn’t understand why Al bought Lud at all, legitimately or not. What did Al possibly gain by pulling West from the underground? What did he have planned for his little brother? In his excitement, Gilbert had put all those niggling worries aside. But now? Now he couldn’t ignore it. He grit his teeth and pounded on the door, the sound reverberating down the deserted hallway. His heart pounded in his chest, anger and fear mixing and creating a vitriolic concoction that eroded his composure.

He liked Al. There was no denying it. He knew that from the very beginning. He was drawn to his confidence, to his self-assurance. From the beginning he saw Alfred as someone who could set things in motion. And it had been so long sense he’d seen that type of drive reflecting in eyes other than his own. He had hoped to forge a long partnership with someone like Al, someone who could match his own nerve. But now? Now he didn’t know what he wanted from Alfred Jones anymore.

He heard movement behind the door and suddenly it swung open to reveal Al, completely and blissfully unaware of the fact that his house of cards was teetering dangerously around his head. Somehow that made him angrier than anything else. The idea that someone with as many connections as Al could be so oblivious made Gil’s blood surge. Before he even really was conscious of it, his body was in motion, coiling up and unleashing his anger, his fear, and his worry into a single punch. He felt it connect with skin and bone. He hadn’t punched someone since he was a kid, he’d sworn he’d never go back. He thought he’d feel guilty. But rather than feel revulsion, he felt a nearly overwhelming urge to do it again.

“You stupid bastard! What were you thinking?!” He stood over Al, fists still clenched, still shaking, anger building again. Alfred Jones was going to have to watch what he says very carefully. He had a lot of explaining to do.

word count: 534
tags: Alfred F. Jones
notes: The honeymoon's over...

by worldie for kat

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 467

Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt

Notes: Hope it's okay; Lena you can come in at any time

Alfred wasn't sure why Gilbert was here.

It made him uneasy in a way, Gilbert showing up unannounced. Of course, that might just be part of Gilbert's personality (Alfred certainly wouldn't have been surprised), but it put him on edge. Alfred didn't frequently give his address out to people and he was chastising himself for that decision now. After all, Alfred and Gilbert had only met twice. His address wasn't information he trusted with many people, partially for their safety, partially for his.

He'd wanted Gilbert and Ludwig to meet in a private location. That had been a mistake; at least, his apartment had been a mistake. Alfred should've taken them both to a hotel perhaps. It would've been private...a little more costly perhaps, but better. It wasn't like Alfred was short on money. And it would probably be safer too, so many people going in and out it was hardly like anyone would've noticed...

All these thoughts ran through Alfred's mind so quickly that he didn't even notice Gilbert's fist until it was too late.

Alfred's eyes widened as Gilbert socked him. Off balance and unprepared for a hit, he fell backwards. It'd been a hard hit, though the jaw wasn't the most painful place to punch someone. For a moment though, Alfred was sickeningly reminded of another well-placed blow—several well-placed blows actually—and his breath caught in a brief moment of panic. He'd buried that memory in a corner recently, things had been going so well, he hadn't even gotten any notes after Ludwig came and...and...

No. No. He had to snap out of it. He wasn't going down that route again. Alfred was fine. Fine, minus the bruise that was surely forming on his face. Actually, no, better than fine. Pissed. Alfred was pissed.

"What the hell was that for?" Alfred demanded. He'd scrambled to his feet instinctively, eyes taking in Gilbert's clenched fists and shaking form. Subconsciously, he'd moved into a defensive stance, unsure what Gilbert was about to do next. Clearly, Gilbert was upset about something, but it wasn't exactly helping Alfred that he didn't know. Information. In the end, information was what won. And in this case, Alfred had nothing on him.

He glanced at the door for a moment, wondering if the neighbors were in. Alfred's apartment was decently soundproof—that much had been proven to him—but with the door open, there was no guarantee they wouldn't hear. And considering Alfred's only connections to Gilbert being Ludwig and the Freedom Fighters, he had reason to believe that this wasn't something he wouldn't want the neighbors hearing.

"How about you come in and talk about what you're so worked up about?" Alfred hissed, still prepared for another hit. "Unless you'd like the whole world to hear what you've got to say that is."

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Ludwig A. Beilschmidt]

baby you're a firestorm you're a loaded cannon

After the horror stories he’d heard from the other denizens of the Underground, Ludwig would never have expected or even dreamt of ending up with an owner like Alfred. Even the better humans treated mutants as little more than large pets; beyond that, tales of disdain, coldness, or cruelty weren't uncommon. Yet Alfred, despite having purchased his contract with real currency that could have been spent on food or clothes or something more immediately useful, had fairly welcomed Ludwig into his home. The German had been lost at first, and while he still wasn't sure what to do with himself half the time, he now felt himself unconsciously counting down the days to the expiration of their deal and dreading the arrival of that date. An adolescence spent at Weeds being trained to serve and fight had not prepared Ludwig for the flood of generosity he'd encountered. Alfred had given him near freedom over the kitchen and over the apartment, as long as he didn't rearrange things too much (the man seemed to have his own strange organization system, where everything was out of order yet still in its proper place). He'd been allowed outside to walk or run errands, he'd been allowed to start his own conversations about things he'd read or seen, and he'd help take care of Alfred's puppy (Ludwig knew he'd never own a dog, but he loved animals all the same and doted on the smart bright-eyed little thing). But even these luxuries had been small potatoes compared to one shining deed: Alfred had reunited him and Gilbert after nearly a decade of separation and misunderstandings. That had cemented Ludwig's affection for the other man. Alfred could have ordered him to jump off the roof the next day and he'd have done it, not out of obligation but out of fear of disappointing someone who had become a near saint in his eyes. Alfred seemed to be fond of superhero stories, he'd noticed, so maybe before he had to return to the Underground, he'd let the other man know that he'd done something truly worthy of a hero, even if it hadn't involved saving a bus full of orphans or defeating an alien menace. It was the least he could do in return. And speaking of superheroes, Alfred had put Ludwig in charge of choosing the movie for tonight. The German was barely familiar with any of the heroes, but the stories were exciting and fun, and a decade of being isolated from pop culture meant that every twist came as a genuine surprise. He was struggling to choose between Iron Man and Captain America when a harsh knocking sounded from the door. Alfred wasn't expecting any company, and as the German glanced to his host, he could tell that he'd been just as surprised. It was his duty as a mutant to protect his owner... but Alfred didn't seemed frightened; rather, he appeared somewhat perplexed. Nonetheless, as he answered the door, Ludwig stood and set the movies aside on the couch. He almost broke into a smile when he recognized the visitor, but something in his brother's expression made the gesture freeze halfway up his face. For a second, he couldn't tell if Gilbert looked scared or shocked, but it was his red eyes that finally provided the answer: a venomous anger burned there like embers. Ludwig had never seen Gilbert so angry, and it worried him, but by the time he'd taken a step forward, it had already begun: his brother had a fist extended and Alfred was reeling, a hand at his jaw. The scene almost appeared surreal. Alfred's apartment was a safe place, a place where someone could maybe feel happy. People didn't have fights here. "Stop, STOP!" With two more strides, Ludwig put himself between Alfred and Gilbert before any more punches could be thrown. "What's going on?" Without knowing why Gilbert had socked Alfred, Ludwig could only turn to his brother for answers. "Gil, what's the matter with you? Why'd you punch him?" He'd even thought about asking Alfred if Gilbert could stay to watch the movie with them; that seemed to be out of the question now. But still, Ludwig didn't understand. Alfred had been nothing but kind to him; he and Gilbert always seemed to get along. But there was cold fury in every line of his brother's face and Ludwig knew that something had changed, some switch had been flipped. He could only hope that Alfred wouldn't decide to fight back: Ludwig desperately didn't want to have to choose a side. Word Count: 768 Tags: Alfred F. Jones ; Gilbert Beilschmidt Notes: thank you for your patience ;A;

by worldie for lena

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

    My words are my faith...
        To hell with our good name...

Hitting Al felt so good after his interrogation that Gil was contemplating doing it again. But then movement shot out from the corner of his eye and before he could say a word (or take another swing) his little brother was there, blocking his path. Demanding to know what Gil was doing.

Gilbert knew that he was just trying to make sense of his older brother’s fury, that West had no idea of the danger he was in. But seeing West squaring off against him to protect all, to hear the indignation in his voice as he demanded an explanation, it stung at Gil. His fist fell limply to his side and he managed a smile for the benefit of a few curious neighbors. “Sorry, he cheated me out of a hot date. Kinda lost my temper,” he called back to them, putting on the charm. “Don’t worry, you won’t hear anything else from me,” he waved and the neighbors, satisfied, wandered back into their apartments.

He finally slipped inside and closed the door, leaning his head against it. Now that the adrenaline was draining from his system he just felt tired. So unbelievably tired…And he couldn’t face West, didn’t every want to see that mix of confusion and anger and fear directed his way again. “I got dragged in for questioning, Al,” he said softly. “The police are looking for West and apparently one of their dogs caught his scent on me… that detective…” Gil’s hands clenched as he felt a shiver run through him at the thought of that bastard. “If I hadn’t thought quickly enough, he would have arrested me and Done god knows what to get the information he wanted. He’s after West. Did you not consider that when you took him?” He shook his head, turning back to focus on Al, his anger still simmering just below the surface. “Do you have any idea of the danger that you put him in with this stunt? Any idea of how much danger I’m in?! Everything I’ve done since I was sixteen has been for West! To get him out of this place, to keep him safe. Do you know how many years I’ve spent, planning everything out. You’ve put everything at risk!” He took a deep breath and slid to the ground, shaking visibly from anger, from fear, from concern, from defeat. He’d come all this way, made so much progress. He was going to finally help his brother, to finally make up for failing him all those years ago and now? Now West was going to get punished and Gil was going to be under suspicion, now everything that he had planned was in Jeopardy. “Why did you have to take him illegally, Al? And more importantly, why in the hell didn’t you warn me about it?! I would have taken measures had I known, I wouldn’t have let that bastard drag me into his web. Why didn’t you say anything?”

His eyes locked on to Al and he didn’t sound angry anymore, he just sounded exhausted. He couldn’t look at West, guilt eating at him. What were they going to do to his little brother because of this? What new pain had Gilbert unwillingly inflicted on him. His chest ached at the thought and he placed his hand over it as though that would fix anything.

Of course, he knew better.

There were no fixes… no solutions… now all he could do was try to keep ahead of the fires.

word count: 586
tags: Alfred F. Jones Ludwig A. Beilschmidt
notes: I posted! Hurray!

by worldie for kat

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 526

Tags:

Notes: Gilbert Beilschmidt, Ludwig A. Beilschmidt

Alfred didn't particularly want to punch Gilbert, but fuck, his jaw hurt and if Gilbert was going to lash out again, Alfred had every intention of striking back.

Before either of them had a chance to act though, Ludwig had come between the two of them, demanding to know what exactly was going on.

The entire atmosphere in Alfred's apartment was tense. Alfred almost wished that Ludwig hadn't stepped in. Ludwig's large frame obscured Alfred's vision. It almost felt as if Alfred was hiding behind Ludwig, something that Alfred would never have done.

Gilbert shut the door behind him after a few smart words to the neighbors. Alfred could almost feel the anger radiating off of the man. Gilbert's fists were still clenched. At first, Alfred thought that Gilbert was starting to calm down, but as Gilbert continued to speak, it became very clear that that wasn't going to be the case. No; Gilbert only grew angrier by the second and if Ludwig hadn't been between the two of them, Alfred didn't doubt that Gilbert might have tried to throw another punch at him. The man was shaking, his eyes staring at Alfred desperately.

Alfred listened to Gilbert's words in shock. His mind reeled as he thought back to Ludwig's purchase. It had been almost perfect, if Alfred had remembered correctly. The documents had been squeaky clean. The money perhaps a little less so but Alfred knew it was essentially untraceable. He'd been so careful, much more careful than usual. So why in the world...

Shit. This wasn't supposed to go like this. It was supposed to be simple, straightforward. Buy a mutant out of the Underground, keep him safe, give him a chance to not be locked up, and then (unfortunately), take him back. Alfred had done things according to protocol, hadn't he? What had he missed?

Alfred pursed his lips as he regarded Gilbert. The man stared straight at him, completely ignoring his brother. Ludwig...Alfred hadn't meant to...shit.

He'd fucked up. Fucked up big time...again. This wasn't supposed to go down like this.

"It's okay, Ludwig," Alfred murmured, putting a hand on the German's shoulder and stepping to his side so he could see Gilbert better. "I bought Ludwig illegally as a favor to someone. And I would have told you, but..." Alfred grimaced. "I thought it was fine. And you two looked happy and I didn't want to ruin the moment." I didn't think it'd come to bite me in the ass.

Okay. Alfred had to keep calm. This was...this was just like a con that had gone a little wrong. Alfred could fix this. Except...with cons Alfred had never had to worry about someone else. He could take all the risks he wanted. This was different. Alfred did have to worry.

His mind was jumping all over the place. What to do, what to do...

He fucked up, he fucked up... Alfred cursed mentally. Several plans were starting to formulate in his mind now...none of them amazing, but perhaps...perhaps...

Alfred's mouth formed a thin line. "Sit down on the couch. We're gonna sort this out."

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Ludwig A. Beilschmidt]

baby you're a firestorm you're a loaded cannon

Ludwig could barely believe what he was hearing — Alfred had cheated Gilbert out of a hot date? That didn’t seem like something his brother would have hit another man over. But observation soon revealed the truth: Gilbert hadn’t looked at Alfred when he’d accused him: he’d turned his head to give an excuse to someone outside trying to listen in. Some of the energy seemed to drain out of Gilbert then, and when he shut the door behind him his face looked weary, drawn. Something bad had happened, and Ludwig let his guard down a little in turn, no longer concerned about preventing a fistfight from breaking out. It took Ludwig a moment to piece together the real reason that his brother had come raging up to Alfred’s door: Gilbert let information slip in fragments, and the whole picture wasn’t immediately visible. The police were looking for him, for some reason? A dog had picked up his scent? That had somehow led to Gilbert getting taken in for questioning, and Ludwig tried to parse out what on earth had gone wrong. He hadn’t done anything — why would the police be looking for him? They had to have him mistaken for someone else, he theorized. As Gilbert poured his emotions out — the years of planning and work to reach him, something Ludwig still could barely believe had happened, because normal people could never be so selfless and generous — Ludwig made to crouch beside him when he sank to the ground, now feeling slightly stupid about his earlier intervention. He never got to offer Gilbert any comfort, however, because the next outburst stalled him in his tracks. Illegally. Ludwig glanced quickly over his shoulder to Alfred, waiting for him to fight the accusation. But Alfred just stared steadily back at Gilbert, looking more serious than Ludwig had ever seen before. He had been suspicious, Ludwig realized, thinking back to the strange back-alley meeting where he’d been transferred from a stranger’s car to Alfred’s care. But both men had told him not to worry about it and, obediently, Ludwig had complied. There were punishments for handling mutant contracts illegally; he’d learned that much at Weeds. Narrowing his eyes, Ludwig tried to recall his education. Depending on the severity… a fine, maybe? Or future restrictions… But as he went over that, he stumbled over rules and knowledge that had been drilled into him besides. Mutants had to be microchipped. Alfred hadn’t done that. Mutants were never to go anywhere unsupervised by their owners. Alfred had sent him off on his own. Mutants were not to change owners without official witnesses and a new contract. Alfred had ignored that. And what was perhaps worse was that Ludwig hadn’t reminded him of any of this. He bore some responsibility for his situation, which was rapidly decaying into a disaster. Reaching up to the back of his neck to rub at the place where he should have gotten a microchip but didn't, he stared at the floor, fighting down an icy tide of rising panic.  He could burn his way out of most bad things he'd been thrown into, but this... this...  He’d be put back in the Underground immediately. He wouldn’t get to see Gilbert again. He’d be punished. He’d be re-educated. Gilbert or Alfred could get in trouble. He might not be allowed to be purchased again. He’d be stuck in those cells forever and he’d never see Alfred or Alfred’s dog or… or his brother ever again. Ludwig fought back a shiver as the blood drained from his face, as he glanced frantically from Alfred to Gilbert, searching for any sign of denial, any sign of a solution. But nothing came. Alfred just commanded them to sit on the couch, that they were ‘gonna sort this out’. Ludwig already knew it wouldn’t work. No one had beaten the Underground at their game, and Alfred and Gilbert would never be allowed near it again, not for many years, perhaps. Wordlessly, numbly, Ludwig moved to the couch and sat down, his gaze focused on the floor and his face unreadable as he tried to think of anything but what waited at the end of his contract. Word Count: 705 Tags: Alfred F. Jones ; Gilbert Beilschmidt Notes: you broke him

by worldie for lena