Walking to work was nice. His hand was in Ludwig's, although the much larger German man probably didn't appreciate that. Something about PDA. He waved good-bye to his fratello as the other Italian walked across a street to the cafe he was working at, huffing as the Spanish owner greeted him with much enthusiasm. They were cute, Feliciano thought, before he forgot all about them and looked up at his companion.
They walked into the office together, every morning. The receptionist was fixing her hair, putting a flower into it before waving at the duo, commenting on how cute they were. Feliciano would thank her, while Ludwig would look away, embarrassed. Taking the elevator, they pressed two buttons. Five, for Feliciano, and twenty for Ludwig. The boss worked on that floor, and Ludwig was his grandson, so it only made sense that he worked on that floor as well.
Leaning up, Feliciano tried to give Ludwig a kiss as the doors to the fifth floor opened, but the other shook his head. "Nein, Feliciano, just go," he mumbled, gently pushing him out of the elevator. "I vill come for you vhen it is lunch time," the German said before the doors shut. Feliciano pouted, turning back to the giant floor that he worked on. Making his way towards his desk, he sat in it and fidgeted.
Feliciano didn't mind his new job. It filled him with excitement and uncertainty. He sat in his desk, in a cubicle on the fifth floor of a towering office building. A simple computer sat in front of him. The man that had trained him said that his job was very basic. The boss, after all, felt that he wouldn't be able to screw this up no matter how hard he tried. All he was to do was copy and paste words from one document to another. The instructions he had been given on his job were clear. Clear enough that the Italian could understand them, hopefully.
So, the man started on his menial task. Opening up two documents, he read every sentence on where they went. 5591b went to the document about Sales orders. Feliciano stared at the screen. Double-clicking a folder icon, he found two more folders staring back at him. One read copy, the other paste. Doing just as he had been instructed a few days prior, he clicked open the paste folder, finding the document on Sales orders.
"Copy…" Feliciano double-clicked on the number, right clicked as it was highlighted, then selected copy. He moved the cursor over to the other document for the orders, right clicked, and selected paste. "Paste'a!"
"Copy, paste'a! Copy, paste'a!" Feliciano chanted everytime he would copy and paste a word. "Hey'a, paste'a reminds me of'a pasta," the Italian giggled to himself after a while of this routine.
"Copy, pasta! Copy, pasta! Copy, pastaaaa!" he was oblivious to the looks of his fellow co-workers as he kept chanting his happy chant about copying and pasta.
After some time, Ludwig took the elevator down to the fifth floor. Hopefully, Feliciano was doing alright at his new job. He was grateful to his grandfather for giving it to Feliciano, although he knew it was probably the most menial and unnecessary task there was in the office. While the German knew he would be much more suitable to work in the cafe with his brother, Feliciano insisted that he work with his German lover.
As the elevator doors opened, Ludwig's brow raised. "Copy, pasta! Copy, pasta! Copy, pastaaaa!" he heard through the office. Sighing, he moved a hand to his forehead, rubbing it.
"Mein Gott, really…?" he mumbled, before he stepped out of the mechanical lift. He moved through the cubicles to the one Feliciano was in. "Feliciano?" the Italian looked up as Ludwig said his name.
"Oh, hiya Ludi!" jumping up, Feliciano wrapped his arms around the German. "I like'a my job!" he said happily. "It has'a pasta!"
"Vhat…?" Ludwig just looked down at him, and patted his head instead of returning the hug. Feliciano pulled away, pointing to his computer.
"Copy, pasta! I want'a pasta now," putting a hand on his stomach, he pouted up at the German. Ludwig shook his head.
"Feliciano, it is not Pasta. It is paste. Copy und paste."
"Ve, but paste'a sounds like'a pasta, so I called it'a pasta," he just kept smiling. Ludwig shook his head again.
"Vhatever makes you happy…" he patted the Italian's head again. "Let us go, ve only have so much time for lunch," and then the two left the office once again, making their way to the small café where their meals were already waiting for them.
As they sat and ate, conversing with the two owners, Ludwig stopped. He stared at Feliciano, unblinking. His soft brown hair, his sweet hazel eyes. The way his accent sounded, his laugh. He looked down at their meals. A plate of pasta for Feliciano, and his own German styled dish, put on the menu by Antonio just for him. It was in these moments that he was truly happy. It was in these moments that he was truly in love. He would never give up these moments that he realized, he could spend the rest of his life like this. Sitting in a comfortable cafe, with the one person he loved more than life itself, he was happy.