Sons and Heirs

Chapter One

The general hum of the front lobby surrounded him, not too terribly loud, but not eerily quiet, either, which was good. He hated silence; it was too unnerving. He stared around at all the different people, watching them come and go through the large, glass revolving doors at the front, the receptionists tapping away at their keyboards, talking to clients or employees, on a phone, and occasionally doing a combination of the three. Most were dressed rather well, and he saw a mixture of professional suits, business casual, khakis, and some- very few- cases of jeans. He, himself, fit in with the khaki section, being as modestly dressed as he was allowed when visiting the place.

There was a soft ding as the elevator doors opened behind him, and he turned to smile and nod at a few of the people he recognized as they got off and he got on. He pushed the button for floor twelve and keyed in the password, closing his eyes and leaning back against the back wall. He sighed heavily and ran through a mental list of what he’d planned on saying before coming. This had to be addressed, and as the saying went, there was no time like the present, right?

A few moments later, the doors opened into a disconcertingly quiet and empty hallway. He smiled slightly at the secretary at the other end of the hall, moving forward lightly (he always felt the need to be noiseless whenever he was in this hallway) toward the office at the very end. She nodded at him as he passed, letting him know it was okay to go in, and he went to the door, setting his hand on the doorknob. He paused, looking at the golden plate on the mahogany door. Luca Weingarten, CEO. His brows furrowed. A man he hated very much used to work in this office. Now a man he used to hate very much worked in it. Odd, now that he thought about it. He turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Luca tapped a pen on the desk, his sharp blue eyes scanning the computer screen as he made precise little notes all over a report. He ran a hand through the short blonde hair on his head and looked at Ubel with a half smirk before looking back at the screen.

"Nothing to do again?" he asked, deep voice rumbling through the almost silent room.

Ubel shut the door just as quietly as he'd opened it, looking over at the fireplace thoughtfully. On the adjacent wall, floating a few feet out from it, was a black leather couch- one of the most comfortable couches, in fact, that he’d ever been on- and a coffee table in front of it. There was a bookcase against the wall opposite the fireplace, all the same wood to match the large, elegant desk that dominated the very center of the room, whose color was offset by the dark brown wooden floor. Two leather chairs sat in front of the desk, and one, larger one behind it, again, the three of them and the couch all matching.

"I have very much to do with my days, thank you," he finally answered curtly, looking back at him, a frown firmly in place. He sniffed, making a haughty movement. "I came to make sure you weren't bored."

Luca laughed very softly at that, gesturing to the other to take a seat. "I suppose I should thank you for being so considerate then,” he said with a look. "But I am very busy. Too busy actually. I don't know when I'm going to get out. You should stay and eat supper with me." He held his gaze for a moment. "If you could bear it."

Ubel sat down, an almost sullen expression on his face. He lounged back in the chair, watching a spot about six feet in front of him intently, bouncing his leg and absentmindedly twirling a bit of his chin-length soft brownish-red hair between his fingers.

"You can't get someone else to do it for you? You're the boss, for chrissake; how do you have too much work? I thought it was your job to look important and sit in here all day inventing new ways to bug me, like I do all day at home."

Luca gave him what could have been an affectionate look. If you were looking close to him and could tell. "Well there is a reason why you do what you do and I do what I do,” he said, rolling his eyes. "So, unlike you, I have to do real work, as you don't have to think about how to annoy me. Just being alive is enough, I promise."

"Ah," he said, nodding slowly, "I forgot. Too much energy spent.... perhaps I should turn my efforts on someone else? I'm sure they'd appreciate it more than you would." He cocked his head. "Suggestions?"

The blonde looked off ponderously. "Aerica,” he said. "One of the accountants on the fifth floor. I hate that bitch." His eyes narrowed. "Go make her jump out a window like I wish I could whenever you're around."

Ubel gave him a look, halfway between amused and hurt. "Luca..." He put a hand over his heart, frowning softly. "It takes a special kind of bond for that to happen.... I can't just make someone want to jump out a window, I have to really get close to them for that to happen."

Luca snorted softly. "You mean you need to be in the same room as someone for longer then a minute and be talking for at least half that time?"

“No respect….” The brunette muttered, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Maybe I should go jump out a window….”

Luca sighed in a very put upon way. "That is what I've been telling you all this time. Put us all out of our misery."

Ubel rolled his eyes. “That is not what I came here to talk to you about,” he said, putting himself back on topic. “I wasn’t just out of ideas for stuff to do around the house today; I actually had a reason for coming this time.” Luca looked at him.

“Alright, then, what?” Ubel hesitated, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together in front of him. He stared down at the ground a moment before gathering his courage. How to put it… it was such a sensitive topic, one he hadn’t tried to breach in… what, six years?

“So… how’re Fitello and Aaron?”

The larger man almost noticeably stiffened, his nostrils flaring as he looked at the top of his desk. "They're not going to be well for much longer,” he said.

No matter what, that was not okay with Ubel, and he glared at the other man. "What's going to happen to them?" he asked caustically, his voice almost a growl.

"Personally?" Luca shrugged. "Nothing much. They will not wake up to anything pleasant tomorrow however." He gave the brunette a sharp look, daring him to say anything about it.

“What kind of unpleasant things will they wake up to?” Ubel asked, forcing himself to keep his voice level and his anger down for the moment.

"We're taking that..." He paused for a moment, searching for the proper word, "abomination over."

"Oh, how lovely. Would you like me to have your secretary send them some flowers and a notice? I'm sure Fitello would love the flowers, and it'd be decent to at least warn Aaron beforehand..."

Luca looked at him. "Ubel. You don't understand how it works. Stop acting like a bleeding heart."

He stood up, looking down at him with defiance in his eyes. "Don't tell me I don't understand," he spat, balling a fist. "I understand just fine; I understand that you're a... you have no conscience, no qualms about stabbing one of the only people that ever even liked you in the back! You're being a cold, heartless jerk, just like your father!"

The blonde leaned back in his chair and gave him a look. "You obviously don't understand what I'm trying to do here then,” he said with a shrug, looking out the window.

Ubel grit his teeth, fighting against everything in him that wanted to lunge at him, punch him, scream at him… he could be so maddeningly arrogant, and no matter how he felt about the rest of him, that was the part of him that always had, and no matter what, always would, drive Ubel crazy.

“What are you trying to do, then, Luca; enlighten me, please.”

Ice blue eyes locked on chocolate brown ones and Luca made an impatient sound. "I'm giving Fitello what he deserves,” he said with a sharp nod. "Pulling him out from under that tyrant’s thumb."

“And you’re going to break his heart in the process!” Ubel yelled back, pointing at Luca accusingly. “He loves Aaron, more than anything, and he deserves to stay with him! He’s lost too much… too many people for you to decide what’s best for him in this situation!”

Luca sighed very softly. "Ubel. That is where you're wrong. Fitello can't possibly understand how oppressed he is." He shook his head. "People very rarely know what's best for themselves." He eyed the smaller man.

Ubel's expression was dead serious, the color rising in his cheeks. "Trust me," he bit off, "it is possible to know exactly how oppressed you are. More possible than you think."

"And you trust me," Luca said, standing as well. "You are nothing like Fitello Natale. You've never deluded yourself." He gave him a look.

"No, I'm not." He straightened up to his full height, but the other still towered over him. "Not at all. Fitello actually had a choice in who his tyrant-" he said the word with disdain, "was, whereas mine was thrust upon me.”

Luca grabbed his arm, pulling him almost onto the desk. "I always left you with some dignity,” he growled. "Tyranny has taken his name." He pushed him away in disgust.

“The weight of a name is nothing to the freedom of a spirit,” Ubel said darkly, giving Luca a cold look. “At least Fitello has one of the two.” He turned on his heel and left the office, his stomach twisting in anger and fear for what would happen to the person he’d once considered his closest friend.




It was one in the morning when the first call came in. Aaron Devreux-Natale picked the phone up and untangled himself from the sun tanned limbs of Fitello, who curled up on himself and murmured in his sleep.

“Yes?” he demanded softly outside their door.

“There has been an attack, sir. In the south sector.” Dark blue eyes narrowed.

“Were there any casualties?” Aaron leaned his entire six feet and seven inches back against the wall. He was only very slightly darker than the creamy paint, with his black hair bed-tousled and sticking up against the wall.

“There were a few of our men out there, as well as a retired assassin.” Aaron stood up straight.

“Do you know who sent the men yet?”

“No sir. We will soon though.”

“Call me back when you find out then.” He snapped and hung up the phone, pushing a hand through his hair and going back into the bedroom. He watched Fitello sleep for a long moment, stroking an errant blonde curl out of his face and heading into the shower with a heavy sigh.

When the phone rang a second time, Fitello answered.

“Natale speaking,” he mumbled, suppressing a yawn. “What can I do ya for?”

“Uhm…” The voice on the other line was hesitant for a moment. “Sir? They’ve attacked again. The three major areas.” There was a long pause as the fuzzy headed Italian worked through the information.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“Sir? The Germans. In the city…” There was another short pause. “Killing our men?”

Fitello dropped the phone.

“Fitello I am not discussing this with you further!” Aaron rounded on him, eyes flashing. Fitello visibly backed down, looking at the floor and toying with the bottom of his shirt.

“You can’t just attack them back,” the blonde said weakly. “We’ll never win that war. Luca has much more manpower than we do!”

“You’re just protecting an old friend ‘Tello! Stop thinking with your weak heart!” Aaron tied his tie irritably, looking as Fitello visibly wilted. He sighed and pondered how fragile the Italian was when they were alone. “He attacked you. Aren’t you the least bit angry?” he asked, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and pulling his warm body close.

“Of course not,” Fitello mumbled. “It hurts that he would do this. But I think we both know what he’s really trying to do.” Aaron’s mouth curled up angrily.

“All the more reason to show him I will not give you up to meet his childish fancies of playing hero,” he snapped and moved away, pulling on his shoes.

“Why can’t we just merge with them?” Fitello demanded. “You can keep what you want and it would be beneficial to build in the Rhineland.”

“Would he honestly agree with that?” Aaron gave him a look and Fitello grinned softly.

“Has anyone ever said no to me?” he asked, flicking his blonde hair back and giving him a look. Aaron smirked and rolled his eyes.

“I tell you no all the time,” he said softly, biting the others ear until Fitello was arching against him and moaning softly.

“You’re just crazy,” the blonde purred. “And you tell me yes enough to make up for it.”

Aaron kissed him once again briefly. “I’m going to the office now. To see what damage control I can do.” Fitello sighed.

“Won’t you at least take my suggestion into account?” He frowned as one of their children started to cry. “Just… I don’t want a war with my best friend. Alright?”

“I will think about it,” Aaron said with a nod. “But what sort of friend is he, in all honesty?” he demanded. “What if something had happened when one of the boys was out there? Can you bear to lose another one?” He shut the door behind him.

Fitello hugged himself tight, an old wound deep in his heart ripped open and freshly bleeding. He really couldn’t bear to lose another brother. He pulled himself together and went to tend to the twins.