Chapter Text
Klaus grinds his joint out beneath the toe of his boot and drags his fingers through his hair, mussing up the curls and giving them a quick scrunch so they stay intact. He applied a rose toned balm to his lips earlier, and smudged glittery black kohl around his eyes.
It’s a good look, he knows. His best one, really.
It’s his I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-with-a-hot-stranger look, and it pretty much guarantees someone’s going to take him home tonight.
He pretends he doesn’t see Ben scowling at him out of the corner of his eye as he pushes into the club, immediately relaxing once he’s inside.
It’s one of the nicer gay bars, one he frequents often, and the drag queens that run it are just as kind as they are protective; it makes for a safe, comfortable environment once you look past the neon lights and writhing bodies.
This isn’t a place someone comes when they’re looking to trade sex for money, and even Klaus wouldn’t dare disrespect this place and it’s people by trying.
No, he’s looking for a hookup, plain and simple (anything to burn the old man’s touch from his skin; he’d claimed he was some important CEO. Klaus really didn’t care as long as he was getting paid, and he did- quite well, in fact. He isn’t sure if it was worth getting bodily removed from the hotel after they had finished last night, though. That was supposed to be his bed.)
He’s just on the right side of too high-not enough, and the world is floating in a pleasant, warm haze around him.
He sidles over to the bar, expertly slipping through the throng of people, and orders himself the strongest drink he can.
Dot raises a brow at him, flipping her pink hair behind her shoulders as she mixes his drink. “Rough day, hun?”
The flashing lights reflect off of the glitter dusting her dark skin and he finds himself distracted by the sparkle, by the breadth of her shoulders and the strength in her movement; it’s always intrigued him, the delicate femininity melding seamlessly with their more masculine traits. Dot is pretty, and Klaus would kill to throw his legs over those broad shoulders.
“Klaus,” she says sternly, though the effect is ruined by the twitch of her lips. “You know that one over there put a ring on it years ago.” She motions to one of the other queens across the dance floor.
“Unfortunately,” Klaus says on a dreamy sigh, and then lets out a startled laugh when Dot smacks him in the face with her white feather boa. “Okay, okay. My day was fine, thank you. Last night was a whole different story, though.”
Dot makes a sympathetic noise. “Old white man?”
“Old white man,” Klaus repeats mournfully, knocking back his drink and sliding his glass back over for a refill.
“Well,” Dot says, peering at something over his shoulder. “Don’t look now, but something delicious just walked through the door, and it’s just your taste.”
“She’s not wrong,” Ben pipes up, leaning his back against the bar, head tilted consideringly.
Klaus smirks. “They look like trouble, then?”
“Complete opposite, actually,” Dot says with a grin, reaching out and pressing her fingertips to his chin, turning his face towards the newcomer.
Klaus goes easily, eyes searching the crowd until they land on him.
He’s beautiful, and not in the abstract sort of way that sunsets are; not in the way that leaves warm, soft imprints behind your eyelids when you close them. It’s a rich, physical sort of beauty; the kind of beauty that begs to be chiseled in marble and spilled ink across canvas.
“He looks like a hipster youth pastor,” Klaus murmurs absently (its true, who the fuck wears flannel to a gay bar) and Ben snorts in amusement.
“That’s not wrong, either,” he admits, but Klaus is already moving, twisting his way through the crowd, drink sitting forgotten on the bar.
“You don’t look like you’re from around here,” Klaus says with a saccharine smile, and the man glances over at him with wide eyes before letting out a soft laugh.
“What gave me away?” He says with a pretty smile. “Probably the lack’a glitter, hm?”
“Well, that may have something to do with it,” Klaus admits. “It’s more the uh…” He motions vaguely to his own face, and then to the man’s.
The man raises an amused brow. “Somethin’ wrong with my face?”
“Not at all,” Klaus rushes, pushing back the giggle threatening to break past his lips. “It’s a very pretty face. I just meant your eyes. All big and nervous and awestruck.” And blue. Fuck, they’re big and nervous and awestruck and blue; this deep, crystalline ocean-like shade. And he has freckles. Christ, Klaus didn’t think it was possible for him to get any prettier.
“Well,” the man says on a breath of a laugh. “I am feelin’ a little nervous and awestruck. You’re right, I ain’t ever been to a gay bar before.”
Klaus grins. “You definitely came to the right one, then.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Klaus.”
The man’s smile widens and he reaches out, shaking Klaus’s hand in a sure, strong grip; warm but not damp, rough with callouses. “Nice t’meet you, Klaus. I’m Dave.”
“Dave,” Klaus purrs. “The pleasure is all mine.”
And a pleasure it is, watching Dave’s cheeks turn pink and the way his eyes flicker from Klaus’s lips to his eyes and then back again.
“Well,” Dave murmurs. “I don’t know about that.”
And then he’s sweeping Klaus onto the dance floor, dragging his body back and flush against his own as they start a slow, dirty grind.
Klaus laughs in startled delight; he certainly didn’t expect this from the sweet-as-pie southern cutie, but Dave seems to be full of pleasant surprises.
“This okay?” Dave asks breathlessly in his ear, hands shifting to move with Klaus’s hips, and Klaus hums and presses closer.
“More than,” he whispers, head tipped back into Dave’s shoulder.
It’s startling, how well they move together, how well they fit together. They’re seamless, moving as one, and Klaus can’t remember the last time he’s melded with another person like this. Maybe he hasn’t.
“Christ, but you’re beautiful,” Dave says, pressing a kiss to his cheek and for a moment Klaus is thrown, because there’s nothing sexual in the kiss, nothing that pushes for more. It was fucking chaste, and Klaus can’t decide whether he loves that or hates it.
The shadows that always converge in his peripherals are starting to solidify, and faint whispers start to reach his ears, breaking him out of his pleasant trance.
He spins to face Dave, draping his arms over his shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to the shell of his ear and murmuring, “Why don’t you go get us a drink, hm?”
Dave smiles this bright, dazed sort of thing, and squeezes Klaus’s hip before making his way over to the bar.
Klaus watches him go and digs through his pockets until he finds the little baggie there, pulling out two white pills that he swallows dry.
Ben shoots him a disapproving look from his spot at the bar, but Klaus genuinely cannot give a flying fuck; he’s having too much fun to let them ruin his night.
He shimmies the tube of sparkly gloss out of his pants pocket and reapplies it to his lips, shooting Ben an obnoxious wink as he does, and then shoves it back in his pocket as he catches sight of Dave maneuvering his way through the crowd.
“Wasn’t sure what you liked,” Dave says, eyes flickering down to Klaus’s lips like they’re drawn there, and Klaus cheers silently at his success. “But I figured you can’t go wrong with whiskey.”
“You definitely can’t go wrong with whiskey,” Klaus says cheerily, taking the glass from Dave.
He glances over Dave’s shoulder until he can find Ben, who shakes his head. Good. Safe, then. He doesn’t think Dave would be the kind of person to drug someone’s drink but, well. Bitter experience has taught him it’s better to err on the side of caution.
It would’ve been a pity, too. Dave really is beautiful.
Now that he knows it’s safe, he tosses the drink back with practiced ease, relishing in the pleasant warmth that spreads through his body.
“Trying to woo me, Dave?” Klaus teases, because Dave got the good whiskey, and that shit is expensive.
Klaus is fully expecting Dave to laugh, to make some backhanded statement designed as a compliment (“why would I need to woo you? I already have you”), but Dave doesn’t do either of those things.
No, he blushes and flutters those thick, dark lashes and says, “Maybe. S’it working?”
And damn him to hell, but it is. “I’m not sure,” Klaus says loftily, though he knows he’s smiling like an idiot. “I think you’ll have to keep trying.”
Dave does laugh then, this soft sort of breathless little thing, and says, “Well, I ain’t got any problems with that.”
That laugh does something to him, Klaus realizes with a distant sort of alarm. It makes something warm and gooey wriggle to life in the softer spots in his chest; the spots he keeps safe behind cages of bone and sharp, cutting words. It should concern him, how easily Dave has managed to tear past his defenses.
It doesn’t.
“You know,” Klaus says confidently, widening his eyes and pouting his lips out prettily, pretending his heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest. “I think kissing me would be a pretty good start.”
Dave laughs softly again but it’s huskier, warmer, and sends shivers down Klaus’s spine. He tracks darkened eyes over Klaus’s frame, lingering on his lips before finding his way back up so their eyes meet. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Klaus whispers, breathless with anticipation (he’s not nervous. Why would he be? He’s kissed loads of people. This shouldn’t feel any different. But. It does. It is. He isn’t sure why, yet.)
Dave smiles then, this beautiful, bright little thing, and then he’s burying his fingers in Klaus’s curls and pulling until they’re pressed fully together with no space between them. Dave’s other arm has found its way around his waist, his hand hot and heavy at the small of Klaus’s back and then they’re kissing.
It’s the same as every other kiss Klaus has ever shared with someone else, but at the same time, it’s not. It’s more. More power, more heat, more passion; but Dave’s touch is gentle, kind, like he’s holding something precious. In every way Klaus noted before and more, they fit, in a way he’s never fit with anyone before, like jigsaw pieces finally falling into place.
It feels like coming home.
Klaus sinks into it with the desperation of a drowning man and prays for mercy.
He’s never been so thoroughly ruined, and certainly not from one fucking kiss. He doesn’t think he’ll ever recover.
He isn’t sure he wants to.
When they finally break, they’re both heaving in air like they’ve run a marathon, but Klaus can see Dave is just as affected, staring at him with wide, surprised eyes.
“Take me home?” Klaus whispers- begs- and Dave steals the breath from his lungs with another heated kiss.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, spelling the words out against Klaus’s lips. “Yeah, let’s go home.”
*
Klaus wakes slowly, peacefully.
It’s a new experience for him; normally, whoever he stayed the night with would have shaken him roughly awake and tossed his clothes at him, or police sirens outside the illegal rave he passed out in would startle him into consciousness with just enough time to flee (or not, and he’d wake up in a jail cell just a little too sober to be comfortable.)
He can’t remember the last time the sun woke him.
He also can’t remember the last time he was this fucking hot when he woke up. He’s fairly certain he’s being spooned by a sentient oven.
He blinks his eyes open slowly, squinting against the sunlight spilling through the open window behind the bed, and stretches lazily.
Dave snuffles a bit in his sleep, arms relaxing around Klaus, but he doesn’t wake and Klaus breathes a sigh of relief.
He props himself up on an elbow and just…looks, because he can and because Dave is beautiful, and Klaus wants to drink as much of him in as he can while he can.
There’s something almost ethereal about Dave; he’s bathed in a soft golden glow, freckles splashed across his skin like constellations, lashes dark against the pale skin beneath his eyes. The faint lines around his eyes have smoothed out and his chest rises and falls steadily beneath Klaus’s palm. He lets his eyes follow the strong line of Dave’s jaw, the straight cut of his nose, the plump curve of his bottom lip, the delicate stretch of his throat. Without thinking (though he’s not sure he could stop himself if he tried), he reaches out to gently brush a sandy curl out of Dave’s face and feels a sharp pang of want stab through his chest.
The most mind boggling part, though, is that it isn’t sexual.
Last night was fucking mind blowing, but the desire he’s feeling now isn’t lustful.
It’s…it’s fucking mundane.
He wants sleepy morning kisses and breakfast in bed and petty little arguments about who's going to take the dog out.
He wants weekly date nights and home cooked meals and water fights when they should be washing dishes.
He wants a place to call home, a person who loves him without conditions, the ability to smile without feeling like it’s costing him more than he’s willing to give.
He wants-
Klaus wants-
Well.
He wants a lot of things he can’t have.
Slowly, carefully, he extracts himself from Dave’s arms.
And then he pulls his clothes on and flees like the coward he is.
The thing is.
The thing is, when you run from someone, you generally don’t expect to see them again. Especially not in a city this size, when you don’t actually have an address for them to find you at.
But.
But he ambles into the club again three weeks later, stumbling over his own feet, a lazy smile on his face, and Dot pins him with a cool look across the dance floor that has him freezing in place.
Slowly, cautiously, he makes his way through the crowd and settles himself at the bar.
“He’s been looking for you,” Dot says as soon as he’s seated, and Klaus feigns innocence.
“Who’s been looking for me?”
She scowls and points a shot glass threateningly at him. “Don’t play with me, baby. You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
Klaus groans and buries his face into his arms, narrowly resisting the urge to bang his forehead into the cool metal of the bar. “I haven’t even been thinking about him! Why’s he here looking for me?”
Dot snorts and tugs lightly at his curls, urging him to look up at her, which he does with a petulant frown. “Sweetie, I’ve never seen you look so lovestruck in your life. Who are you trying to convince? Me, or yourself?”
Klaus’s scowl deepens. “That’s not fair. He’s just- he’s so- argh!” He drops his forehead down onto the table again with a loud thud.
“He’s got a body like a Greek god and a heart of gold to go with it?” Dot offers helpfully, only it's Dot and she’s definitely not trying to be helpful because she’s never been helpful in her life, like, ever.
“When did you see his body?” Klaus grumbles, voice muffled.
“When he stopped by last night wearing no shirt and a lot of body glitter.”
Klaus’s head snaps up as he gapes at her. “He what? And I missed it?!”
Dot smirks. “He was drunk out of his mind. I think he’s been hitting up other bars looking for you. Must’ve just been at The Grind.”
“Glitter,” Klaus says sagely, nodding in understanding. It tracks- The Grind has glitter bombs, and the boys there are hot; Klaus has gotten drunk in that bar and woken up covered in body glitter and only wearing a tiara and fishnets. More than once. He still doesn’t know how it happened, but he suspects it’s because of the cute boys that frequent the place. Devious things, they are, but their smiles make little old ladies melt, so it’s hard to be upset at them for it.
“Glitter,” Dot agrees with a smirk. “So? Spill. Why are you hiding from the cute country boy?”
Klaus huffs and shoots her a half hearted glare. “I’m not hiding. I’m just…”
“Avoiding?” Ben grumbles, scowling around at- well, everything. He hadn’t wanted to come out tonight , Klaus knows, but it’s not like he had to. Klaus can keep track of his own drinks, and it’s not like Ben can do anything if he gets roofied anyways. What’s one more to add to the tally?
Klaus flips him the bird under the bar and says, “Avoiding. I’m avoiding.”
Dot rolls her eyes. “Okay, why are you avoiding the cute country boy?”
“Because.”
Dot raises a brow, cocking a hip and folding her arms, staring him down until he gives in.
“Okay, okay.” Klaus sits up properly and makes grabby hands until she makes him a drink. “I’m avoiding him because I…I want him. More than I’ve wanted anybody in a long time. Maybe ever? And I don’t…know how to handle that.”
“Do you think he doesn’t want you? Because I got evidence pointing the other direction, sweetie.”
“Maybe I thought that, before. But even if he does want me, I…I think he deserves be-”
“Now you hold on a minute,” Dot cuts in firmly. “You, Klaus Hargreeves, are a goddamn catch. Dave the glitter boy would be lucky to have you. Even with all your…” she motions vaguely to, well, all of him. “Issues,” she finally says delicately. “You’ve got more love in your heart than most everyone I know. Don’t throw away a good thing because you’re scared, kid. You’ll regret it.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” Klaus demands. “What then?”
Dot shrugs, reaching out to squeeze his hand with a smile. “Then you push through it. You persevere. I’d say you’re better at that than most.”
Klaus deflates, any indignation he may have felt leaving him in a rush.
“She’s not wrong,” Ben points out, finally turning to look at him.
“I know,” Klaus mumbles into his glass, tossing his drink back in one go.
“What was that, sweetheart?” Dot asks, raising a brow.
“Nothing,” Klaus says, hopping down from the chair. “I think I’ve got a cute country boy to find, though.”
“Don’t think you’re going to have to look far,” Dot says with a smile, nodding to something over Klaus’s shoulder.
Klaus stills, heart starting to race, before slowly turning, eyes searching the crowd and-
There.
Across the crowd, just passing through the front door, eyes searching until they finally land on Klaus.
And then Dave’s face is lighting up as he breaks into a bright grin that’s nothing but genuine, open delight. It warms Klaus to his very core.
“Fuck,” he whispers faintly, something in his chest going soft and gooey like melted chocolate. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, I’m so fucked.”
Without hesitation, he pushes through the crowd and makes his way over to Dave, feeling his own lips curl into a smile that he couldn’t stop even if he tried.
“Hi,” Dave says with a goofy little grin that Klaus can’t help but mirror.
“Hi,” he echoes, struggling to resist the urge to pull Dave into a kiss. He has very kissable lips. It’s distracting.
“I’ve been lookin’ for ya,” Dave says finally. “Been meanin’ t’ask you something’?”
Klaus’s smile widens and he spreads his arms invitingly. “Ask away.”
Dave hesitates for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip nervously, before the words burst from his lips like he can’t hold them back any longer. “Can I take you on a date?” He rushes. “Like, a real date? Dinner’n dessert?”
Klaus pretends to think about it for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Will you get me flowers?”
Dave beams like Klaus has just given him the stars. “I’ll definitely get you flowers.”
Klaus grins and gives into temptation, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Dave’s lips. “Then yes. You can take me on as many dates as you’d like.”
“I’ll hold you to that?”
“You’d damn well better.”
*
“I was thinkin’,” Dave says, stretching languidly as he watches Klaus dig through the dresser for a pair of clean underwear.
Klaus snorts and finally tugs on his favorite rainbow briefs. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he says before throwing himself into Dave’s chest.
Dave lets out a soft oof and then smiles fondly, winding his arms around Klaus and holding him close.
“Anyways,” he stresses. “I was thinkin’…well, half my dresser is your stuff. An’ you’ve got a toothbrush an’ your hair products here. Plus you keep your extra books on my bookshelf.”
Klaus frowns, scratching idly at his jaw and suddenly feeling very small. “Is that…is that a problem?” He ventures, voice hesitant and pathetic even to his own ears.
“No!” Dave rushes to assure. “No, no, s’the opposite of a problem, actually. “I just uh, I mean, since you basically already do…”
“Spit it out, David,” Klaus warns lightly, pinching Dave’s thigh.
Dave huffs and tugs at Klaus’s hair in retaliation, but says, “Do you wanna move in with me? Officially, an’ all that?”
Klaus shoots upright, staring down at at Dave with wide eyes. “Wh- I- really? Me?”
Dave raises a brow. “No, darlin’, the other you. Y’know, the better lookin’ one.”
“Har har,” Klaus grumbles. “Really, though? You’re serious?”
Dave nods, looking somber. “Deadly. You mean the world to me, Klaus. You’re my everythin’. ‘Course I want you here all the time.”
“You might regret that,” Klaus warns. “I’m- I’m- I’m a mess, Davey. I don’t like doing dishes, and I hate folding laundry, and I leave my shoes everywhere, and I come and go at all hours of the night, plus I’ll probably make your water bill go through the roof- umph.”
He’s cut off as Dave draws him into a kiss, fingers buried in his hair. “Are you saying yes?” He asks against Klaus’s lips, breathless and wanting.
Klaus smiles, feels it as Dave smiles too, and murmurs, “Maybe I am.”
Dave laughs in delight. “I love you, darlin’. So fuckin’ much.
Klaus grins and bites gently at Dave’s bottom lip. “I love you too, Dave. More than anything.”
“Even more than that ratty ol’ sweater you like to wear when it rains?”
Klaus hums, pretends to think about it. “Well, I did steal that from Luther; it’s just so big and comfy and-”
Dave makes an indignant noise, and Klaus laughs and gives in. “Even more than that stupid comfy sweater, baby. Promise.”
“You’d better,” Dave grumbles. “That sweater don’t make you waffles at three AM.”
Klaus grins. “No, but it keeps me warm when you make me waffles at three AM.”
Dave rolls his eyes before getting a sly smile. “You know what’s gonna hafta happen now, don’t ya?”
Klaus narrows his eyes in distrust. “What?” He asks cautiously, and Dave’s smile widens.
“You’re gonna hafta learn how t’make waffles now for when I want ‘em.”
Klaus can’t help but giggle, hiding his face in the warmth of Dave’s chest; his heart is practically soaring behind ribcage. It should be embarrassing, but all he feels is a truly ridiculous, unadulterated, wildly excessive amount of love for his boyfriend. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Katz.”
*
Klaus has spent the past twenty-four years clawing his way forward; screaming, begging, pleading.
For help, for comfort, for warmth, for love; for one god damn moment of peace.
He is an infinitely broken creature, made up of jagged edges and sharp points.
But by god, does he try.
To be soft, to be kind, to be gentle.
To be tender hearted and bright spirited despite despite despite-
“I love you,” Dave whispers, and Klaus folds himself into all of Dave’s empty spaces and prays for mercy.
*
“I can’t keep doin’ this, Klaus.”
Klaus freezes in the doorway, a bottle of vodka tucked under one arm and a baggie of newly acquired pills held tightly in his fist.
He didn’t expect Dave to be up, still, and he definitely didn’t expect to be accosted as soon as he stepped through the door at- a quick glance at the oven clock shows- 3:32 AM.
Something like panic bursts to life behind his ribs but he doesn’t let it show; he ignores Ben’s low warning of “Klaus” beside him and says loftily as he turns to shut and lock the door, “Can’t keep doing what, babe?”
There’s nothing but silence behind him and that…doesn’t bode well, does it?
He pulls in a deep, steadying breath, plasters on a smile, and turns to face his boyfriend.
Dave is watching him quietly, arms crossed tightly over his chest (he doesn’t look angry, Klaus notes absently; he looks like he’s trying to hold himself together.)
His lips are pressed into a thin line and his shoulders are tense and his hair is a mess, like he’s been running his fingers through it, and the sight sends a jolt of something through Klaus’s chest that leaves it aching.
“If you’re gonna keep doin’ this,” Dave says finally, disappointment heavy in his gaze. “At least have the decency to tell me the truth about it.” I’m not stupid, goes unspoken and Klaus feels any arguments he may have had fall right out of him.
“Okay, fine,” he grumbles, slamming the bottle onto the counter and shoving the baggie of pills in Dave’s face. “I was out getting drugs. You know why? Because I’m a fucking drug addict, Dave! It’s kind of what I do! And you knew that before you asked me to come live with you; don’t pretend this is new.”
Dave’s eyes are pained, but his resolve is as strong as it always has been. “I know, Klaus. We talked about it. Extensively. An’ you told me you were gonna try. Does this fuckin’ look like tryin’ to you?”
It’s not that easy, Klaus wants to say. Wants to take Dave by the shoulders and shake him until he understands; wants to fold himself into Dave’s embrace and tell him everything; wants to scream and cry and beg him to help me, please, I’m trying but it’s so fucking hard-
“How do you know I’m not?” He spits harshly, because maybe he’s not trying as hard as he should be, but he is trying, and that has to count for something, right?
“It’s 3:30 in the mornin’,” Dave says quietly. “It’s 3:30 in the mornin’, and you didn’t even tell me you were leavin’. You used to. But now, I don’t remember the last time you did.”
Klaus opens his mouth to argue, to say something that helps prove his point, but with a start he realizes Dave is…right. Klaus would tell him when he was leaving, and he would wake him up when he got home, too, to let him know he was safe. He doesn’t remember the last time he did either of those things. “It’s hard,” is what he finally says, voice small and pathetic even to his own ears. It’s an excuse and they both know it.
Dave’s shoulders slump in defeat and he squeezes his eyes shut like he’s accepted he’s fighting a losing battle. “If you ain’t gonna stop,” he says, voice breaking before strengthening as he tries again. “If you ain’t gonna stop, at least tell me. Please. I need t’know that you’re safe.”
Klaus swallows dryly and nods. “Okay,” he agrees, forcing the word past his suddenly numb tongue.
“Okay,” Dave echoes softly, and then turns back towards their bedroom. He pauses, though, turns his head back towards Klaus. “Good things ain’t ever easy, Klaus. S’just up to you to decide whether you’re willin’ to fight for ‘em.”
The click of the door latching sounds painfully final.
“Not a word,” Klaus hisses at Ben when his mouth opens.
Ben glares darkly and snaps right back, “Oh, I have plenty of words for you right now, so too fucking bad.”
“Ben-”
“Dave is the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” Ben grinds out through clenched teeth, and Klaus’s mouth snaps shut, teeth clacking painfully together. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to you, so why the fuck are you trying so damn hard to make sure it doesn’t work?”
“I’m not!” Klaus denies heatedly, and then lowers his voice to a whisper so he doesn’t risk Dave overhearing. “I’m not,” he repeats. “Why would I? That’s dumb.”
“Because you’re scared,” Ben responds immediately. “And you do dumb shit when you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared-”
“You are. Because you’ve never done this before, not really. And you don’t know how to handle-”
“Ben-” Klaus tries, fighting back the panic he can feel starting to build again because he knows what Ben is going to say, and if he hears it out loud it’s going to be real and he isn’t sure that’s something he can handle yet-
“-the knowledge that someone-”
“Ben, stop-” Klaus begs, but Ben just raises his voice and keeps going-
“-actually fucking loves you!” Ben finishes, throwing his hands up in anger, panting through rough breaths he doesn’t even need.
Klaus stares at him, wide eyed, and curls his trembling hands into fists. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but his voice sounds distant and muddled, like he’s talking underwater.
“I know exactly what I’m talking about, Klaus,” Ben snaps back, practically vibrating with tightly wound fury. “I know you. Maybe better than you know yourself. I know why, and I’ve let it slide before when I shouldn’t have. I’m not doing that this time. I’m not letting you do that this time.”
Klaus slowly sinks to the ground when his legs finally stop supporting him, the cold kitchen tile chilling him to the very bone, and winds his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest. “How?” Klaus whispers, hating the way his voice cracks around the word. “How do I fight for something I’m not even sure I deserve?”
“Even if you don’t deserve him- which is a whole other conversation we’re not having right now- that’s not for you to decide, is it? It’s up to him. And he chose you. He’s continuing to put his faith in you, his time and effort and love. Is that something you want from him?”
Klaus swallows dryly, his throat scratching like sandpaper, and nods. “Yes.”
“Then you have to show him that. Show him why he should keep doing that, and do it back. You can’t lose this, Klaus. You can’t lose him.”
I don’t think you’ll survive if you do, Ben doesn’t say, but Klaus can hear it plain as day.
(The young, frightened little boy that lives in the softest parts of Klaus’s chest is blooming, slowly, thriving in the warmth of Dave’s light. Stretching forward, reaching towards their beautiful sunshine boy. It’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating, and Klaus isn’t sure those soft parts of himself will survive if he loses Dave.)
(He thinks he was wrong, before. Dave is Michaelangelo’s David, but he’s also every fucking color of the sunset, and Klaus could look at him for the rest of his life and still be in awe of how beautiful he is.)
“What do I do?” Klaus finally asks, gazing up at his brother with watery eyes. “How do I fix this?”
Ben watches him steadily, but doesn’t say anything. Lets him work through his options on his own; he can’t keep running to his brother when things get tough- this is a decision he needs to make on his own. A choice he needs to make by himself. It's the only way it’s going to count for anything.
Slowly, shakily, Klaus pushes himself to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom.
“I can’t come back from this, can I, Ben?” Klaus asks softly. He knows he can’t; it’s more a rhetorical question than anything, one he doesn’t expect an answer to. Once he’s made this decision, he has to stick to it or he risks jeopradizing everything, and if he loses Dave- fuck, he doesn’t even know what’ll happen to him. He isn’t sure he wants to find out.
Ben doesn’t have to ask what he means.
“No,” he answers truthfully. “But would you want to?”
Klaus swallows down a sob and dumps the pills down the toilet.
*
“I can’t,” Klaus cries, burying his face in Dave’s stomach and winding his arms around his hips.
Dave has slotted himself between Klaus’s spread thighs and smoothes his fingers through Klaus’s hair soothingly.
“Yes you can. An’ I’ll be here the whole time, darlin’. I know getting sober is hard. But I don’t know a single person stronger than you. You can do this.”
“He’s right, Klaus,” Ben says softly from where he’s crouching beside the couch, watching them with soft eyes. “You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”
“Braver, too,” Dave adds.
Klaus lets out a wet little laugh, wiping his tears on Dave’s shirt. “What did I do to deserve you two?”
“I’ve been askin’ myself that same thing every day, darlin’. Lemme know when you come up with an answer.”
*
They spend their one year fucking like rabbits in their apartment.
Klaus maybe thinks about crying- only a little bit!- when Dave presents him with enough roses to fill their bathtub, and a giant red box of heart shaped chocolates.
It’s stupid, and cliche, and so damn romantic it hurts; his chest aches, and his eyes burn, and he didn’t know it was possible to love someone this much.
*
Dave asks Klaus to marry him on their two year anniversary.
Klaus cries, and then laughs, and then tackles him to the ground.
His reverent yes is swallowed by Dave’s lips.
*
Five comes back on a Tuesday.
There’s nothing particularly special about this Tuesday; it’s dreary and chilly, rain clouds dark and heavy in the sky.
Perfect, Klaus thinks as he ambles down the street, hitching his reusable shopping tote higher up his shoulder.
His feet slow to a stop as he passes by the Academy; it’s literally around the block from his and Dave’s apartment, but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to go inside.
He knows he could, now. Everyone is home for dad’s funeral; Dave had asked if he’d wanted to go, but Klaus had steadfastly refused. What had that bastard ever done for him anyways, right? What was the point?
(“You miss ‘em,” Dave points out, and Klaus grumbles and tucks his face into the crook of Dave’s neck.
“They’re my family,” he says. “Of course I miss them. But I can’t…”
“It’s been a while,” Dave agrees. “But m’sure they miss you, too.”
Klaus snorts derisively. “I doubt that very much.”
Dave is quiet for so long that Klaus is certain he fell asleep. When he finally speaks again, his voice is soft and sad, and it makes something deep in Klaus’s chest ache. “Just try an’ see ‘em before it’s too late, okay? I know you love ‘em, and you’re only gonna hurt yourself in the long run. You may’ve fought like devils, but that don’t mean they don’t miss you.”
Klaus is quiet for a moment before saying, “I’ll think about it.”
Dave smiles and presses a kiss to the top of his head, drawing him closer. “That’s all I’m askin’. I can come with you, y’know. Beat ‘em up for you if they say anythin’ mean.”
Klaus giggles and tips his head up to look at Dave, a warm sort of bewilderment bubbling to life in his chest. “Dave, baby, I love you, you’re amazing and if they were normal humans, I’d say go for it. But they’re super powered, trained assassin humans.”
Dave looks indignant, but Klaus can see he’s trying to hide a smile. “I could take ‘em.”
Klaus smiles fondly and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’m sure you could, lovely, I’m sure you could.”)
Something in Klaus’s chest snaps, and he’s walking forward before he can stop himself, fingers grasping the cool metal of the doorknob.
He closes his eyes and inhales deeply as flashes of long forgotten memories splash across his vision-
(they’re soaked to the bone from the rain but they’re stuffed full from Griddy’s and giggling as they sneak back inside; Five is wearing Klaus’s hot pink coat because he hates the cold but he hates the rain more and Klaus loves it enough for the both of them; Ben’s arm is slung around Klaus’s shoulders and he’s warm and comforting at Klaus’s side so that he knows he’s alive because sometimes, he dreams Ben died and that’s more horrifying than anything else; the ghosts wailing in the background aren’t quite as loud today because Vanya’s laughter and Allison’s happy shriek when Diego and Luther drag her down into a puddle with them is loud enough to drown everything else out, and he can say for the first time in a long time he’s actually happy; he doesn’t feel fear or foreboding or anger as his fingers curl around the doorknob to push inside, he just feels warm and gooey and a little bit like he’s going to cry)
-and then he pushes open the door.
It looks the same as it did when he left, the same as it always has, but when he walks inside and looks around, he doesn’t feel…anything. A distant sense of nostalgia, maybe, but the heart stopping, breath stealing fear he was expecting just…doesn’t come.
It’s an incredible feeling.
He didn’t think he would ever be free from the chokehold this place had him in.
He takes a moment to stand there and just…breathe.
Inhales the familiar scent of old books and lemon cleaner and baking cookies.
Exhales old fear and cold words and the sting of a signet ring against his cheek.
In.
Out.
In.
Ou-
“Who the hell are you?” Precise, lightweight footfalls on the stairs, a soft familiar shink, an indrawn breath, and then- “Klaus?!”
Klaus’s eyes snap open and it’s exactly who he thought it was, exactly how he pictured he would be, fingers clutched in a white knuckled grip around the hilt of a worn silver blade and later Klaus will marvel at how he can still tell his siblings apart by their footsteps but for now-
“Hey, Di,” Klaus offers a half hearted wave, voice trembling around the familiar nickname.
Diego is frozen halfway down the staircase, one hand on the railing and one foot hovering above the next step; he looks the same as he always has, but any trace of tenderness has been wiped out and replaced with cold, harsh lines and old scars.
Before Klaus can say anything else Diego is on him, arms wound around him so tightly he can hardly pull a breath in.
So, maybe Klaus is wrong. Maybe he hasn’t seen his siblings in over ten years and maybe they just learned to hide the softer parts of themselves.
(Dad always did go for the throat.)
“Jesus, I th-thought you were d-dead,” Diego stutters, holding him tighter for a moment before pulling back to really look at him, hands grasping his shoulders like a lifeline as his eyes wander over him.
“Surprise?” Klaus says with a grin, doing little jazz hands, and Diego just huffs out a laugh.
“You look good,” he says eventually, sounding surprised. “You could use a haircut, but you look good.” He tugs at the curls resting just above Klaus’s shoulders, but his eyes are smiling even if his lips aren’t so he can’t be too upset.
“I’m clean,” is what Klaus says back, and when Diego’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at that, too- well, Klaus can’t really blame him, can he? He would’ve bet his entire inheritance (if he were getting one) that it would never happen.
“How long?”
“Ah- three years, sixty-seven days.”
Diego whistles appreciatively. “That’s great, bro.”
Klaus ducks his head with a smile. “Thanks. So uh, who else is here?”
Diego huffs. “Everyone. Unfortunately. You got here just in time- funeral is about to start.”
“You’re having an actual funeral for dad?”
“No,” Diego admits. “Luther wanted to scatter his ashes out by his favorite tree.”
“Dad had a favorite tree?”
Diego rolls his eyes. “Apparently.”
“Well, mien bruder,” Klaus grins and loops his arm through Diego’s. “Lead the way!”
Diego rolls his eyes again, so hard Klaus is convinced they might just stick that way, but his lips are twitching like he’s trying not to smile as he cinches his elbow tighter around Klaus’s arm and guides them through the house.
“What’ve you been up to these past ten years, huh?” Diego asks as they walk; he tries to keep his voice casual, to keep the hurt out of it, but he doesn’t quite manage and Klaus winces. He doesn’t ever really mean to hurt his siblings, but it keeps happening anyways.
He plasters on a bright smile and says. “Oh, a little bit of everything. Did some drugs, met some people, discovered the many wonderful uses of chocolate pudding, got engaged-”
Diego comes to an abrupt halt and Klaus’s grin turns more genuine as he looks into his brother's wide eyes.
“You’re engaged?!” And then, with narrowed eyes and a threatening spin of his knife- “When do I get to meet her?”
Klaus swallows, suddenly nervous (which is ridiculous, because he never hid his sexuality from his siblings but he never told them either), and says, “Well, you can meet him as soon as you put the knife away.”
Diego pauses, knife freezing momentarily in his fingers before continuing the steady twirling. “Well, he’d better be good enough for you. I don’t want to have to kill your fiancé.”
Klaus snorts, relief washing over him in waves, but plays it off casually. “I don’t want to have to find out if I can fuck a ghost, Di, so please don’t.”
Diego makes a pained face and stuffs his blade back into its sheath. “You’re disgusting, bro.”
“Thank you!” Klaus replies with a bright smile and a wink, and Diego rolls his eyes and shoves him bodily through the back door, lips pulling slightly upwards at Klaus’s resulting laughter.
Laughter that slowly fades into nothingness, however, when he’s confronted with five pairs of shocked eyes immediately swiveling towards them and a silence so heavy and oppressive that he can feel it.
“Master Klaus,” Pogo speaks first, breaking the tense hush that had fallen over themt. “You-”
“Don’t have any god damn words for you,” Klaus responds cheerily. He’s come to terms with what dad did; knows dad was nothing more than an apathetic sociopath on a power trip, but he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to forgive Pogo for standing by and watching as their father tortured them into young, tramautized school kids playing at superheroes.
There’s an indrawn breath from- someone, he isn’t sure, but it’s Luther who speaks next.
“Klaus,” he says, lips pressed into a thin line. “What uh, what are you doing here?”
Klaus raises a brow. He can practically taste the hostility in the air, and this is why he didn’t come home, this is why he stayed away for ten fucking years, because among the million and one other things Klaus hates about this god forsaken place, Luther motherfucking Hargreeves is here and he’s so far up dads ass that Klaus isn’t sure where one ends and the other begins.
“I’m not allowed to come to my fathers funeral?”
“No, of course you are,” Luther grinds out. “I’m just…surprised.”
“Because of how devilishly handsome I am?” Klaus strikes a pose, and grins when he hears Allison snort in amusement.
Luther scowls. “We’re in the middle of something, so if you could just…?”
“Shut the fuck up?” Klaus offers helpfully.
“Chill out, Number One.” Diego glares at their behemoth brother. “It’s been ten years and that stick is still up your ass?”
“Boys,” Pogo admonishes, but Klaus holds up his Goodbye hand.
“This has been a long time coming, Pogo, so stay out of it.”
Pogo’s lips press into a thin line and his eyes go sad, but he just nods and limps away; funny how he’s fine watching good ol’ dad lock them in mausoleums or tanks of water but he can’t watch them claw and scratch their hatred into each other’s skin (only it’s not funny at all, and they only hate each other because of the trauma dad caused, and they don’t really hate each other but how else are they supposed to interact when they were raised as competitors instead of siblings?)
Klaus almost feels bad, because Pogo may not have stopped dad but he did show them a little bit of gentleness, a little bit of love, but then he remembers those sad eyes meeting his as the mausoleum doors slammed shut and he doesn’t feel bad anymore.
“Don’t antagonize me, Number Two,” Luther orders, and Klaus snaps back to the present.
“Is that a threat?” Diego snarls venomously.
He’s let go of Klaus’s arm and is starting forward, fingers curled into fists and Luther has shoved dad’s urn into Allison’s arms and is saying something that’s probably naive and self righteous but Klaus can’t quite hear it over the sudden ringing in his ears (it always makes him nervous, when One and Two fight; they don’t pull their punches or their words, and they don’t care about who gets hurt in the crossfire.)
He thinks about intervening, but he wasn’t lying; this has been a long time coming. Better they work it out now than bottle it up for another ten years.
Just before they can come to physical blows, the sky cracks open, bathing them all in blinding blue light.
“What the hell is that-”
“Everyone get behind me!”
“Yeah, get behind us-”
“We don’t even know what it is-”
Klaus squints his eyes and tries to figure out what the hell is going on; the blood is rushing in his ears, his heart is pounding painfully against his ribcage, his siblings are still yelling over one another and Klaus doesn’t know what the fuck is happening but it can’t be good-
And then little Number Five comes tumbling out of the rift.
*
Klaus’s life has always split into Before’s and After’s.
Before and After Five left.
Before and After Ben died.
Before and After Klaus met Dave.
Clear lines of demarcation that tear apart the foundation he’s built his world on; sometimes for the better, mostly not.
He didn’t think he would have to worry about those lines anymore. He thought, after Dave, this has to be it. I’ve settled. I’ve found my happily ever after.
He was wrong.
*
“Time travel,” Klaus repeats skeptically.
“Time travel,” Five confirms again, eyeing them all warily.
Klaus sent Dave a message as soon as he’d realized who’d fallen out of the sky; he should be here soon, which is good, because Klaus thinks he might shake apart and Dave is the only one who has figured out how to hold him together.
“And you’re a- a time traveling assassin?” Allison asks, brows raised so high they almost disappear into her hair.
“I already answered this, but yes.”
“And you worked for an agency of time traveling assassins called The Commission?” Vanya asks timidly, and Five’s cold demeanor melts slightly as he regards his favorite sister.
“Also yes.”
“And you think they’re going to come after us,” Diego snaps, throwing a knife into the air and catching it with practiced ease.
Five sighs deeply. “No, Diego, I know they’re going to come after us.”
“Because you left them and whatever it is you’re trying to stop, they don’t want you to stop,” Luther says with a frown.
“Precisely.”
“And you’re not going to tell us what you’re trying to stop?” Klaus clarifies.
Five smiles coldly, all sharp edges and ice. “No, I’m not.”
Klaus sighs, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet, and switches tracks, grabbing Five’s arm and dragging him into the foyer so they can talk alone despite Five’s adamant and rather violent threats. “Okay, so time traveling assassins. We need to be concerned, right? Why? The truth, Fivey.”
“The Commission-” Five stresses through clenched teeth, and Klaus waves him off.
“I know, I know. Scary time traveling assassins, I get it, but why would we have to worry about them now-”
Klaus is interrupted as the door bangs open, and familiar footsteps hurry towards them. He can’t help but smile as Dave’s voice rings out, tension leaving his body, because this whole fucking day might be a painful mess, but Dave always seems to make things a little bit brighter.
“Klaus, darlin’, I got your message. S’everythin’ alr-”
“You,” Five snarls venomously, and Dave’s head swivels towards him, eyes wide in surprise.
“Five?”
Klaus’s world comes to an abrupt halt.
He isn’t sure what happens next; maybe he loses time, or maybe they’re just that fast, but between one blink and the next they’re at each other’s throats.
Or, well, Five is at Dave’s, and Dave is just trying his damndest not to let him get there, and Klaus is honestly surprised he’s even present enough to track that because suddenly, abruptly, things are settling into place.
Little, seemingly inconsequential things that he never really questioned, never really pushed, because why would he need to? He trusted Dave, Dave trusted him; there wasn’t any reason to push. Right?
Right?
(“Remind me what you do for work again?” Klaus asks as they’re settled in bed for the night.
Dave is idly dragging his fingers up and down Klaus’s back, humming an absent, old tune that Klaus thinks he remembers Dave telling him his mother used to sing to him when he was a kid.
“It’s perpetually, inanely borin’; you would fall asleep if I told ya.”
“Yeah?” Klaus questions, snuggling closer. “Well, I still wanna know.”
Dave snorts. “You’ll hate it. I ain’t as excitin’ as you think I am.”
And then he’s rolling them, pinning Klaus to the bed with his body, a dirty grin spreading across his face that does- things to Klaus.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Klaus says breathlessly, winding his legs around Dave’s hips. “I think you’re plenty exciting.”
Dave smirks and kisses his way up Klaus’s throat, nibbling at that little spot just below his jaw that makes him whimper.
“Well,” Dave murmurs into his skin. “I can be when I wanna be.”
“Then show me how exciting you can be, Katz,” Klaus responds with an upward grind of his hips.
Dave bites at that spot again, breath coming heavy and hot, and murmurs, “Oh, I intend to.”)
(“Think your parents would want to come to the wedding?” Klaus asks, turning to peer at Dave as they take turns scribbling names onto a list.
It’s not a long list; neither of them really have many people they’re close enough to to even bother trying to invite. That’s alright, though. Klaus thinks a small wedding will be better anyways. More intimate. More them.
“Eh, probably not.”
“Not close to them?”
Dave shrugs half heartedly. “You know how parents are.”
Klaus snorts knowingly. “I sure do, babe, I sure do.”)
(“We should go to the movies,” Klaus says decisively. “Ben’s been complaining that we don’t go out enough, and he’s getting bored.”
Dave’s eyes go distant, lips curling into a faint smile, like he’s remembering something fondly. “I ain’t been to the movies since I saw Rosemary’s Baby. Scared the devil outta me, but I had a blast.”
Ben’s nose wrinkles. “Didn’t that come out in like…the 60’s?”
Dave blinks. “Hm?”
“The movie,” Klaus clarifies. “Came out a while ago, didn’t it?”
“Oh,” Dave’s expression clears and he smiles. “Theater had an oldies night a couple’a years ago. Haven’t been back since.”
“David, are horror movies too scary for you?” Klaus teases with a grin, and Dave huffs, cheeks going pink.
“Horror ain’t my thing, s’all.”
“They are!” Klaus says with a delighted grin. “That’s it; we’re going to find a scary movie playing, and we’re gonna make out in the back row the whole time!”
Ben groans. “I take it back, I don’t wanna go.”
“Too bad,” Klaus singsongs, and grabs Dave’s hand, dragging him out of the apartment.)
“Klaus,” a voice says somewhere off to his left, but it’s distant and echoey and kind of hard to hear over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. “Klaus,” the voice snaps again, and suddenly he’s jolted back to reality. “Klaus, I know this is confusing, but you need to do something,” Ben says, and it’s logical, and probably accurate, but Klaus doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, and how can he do something if he doesn’t know what he needs to do?
“Five,” he tries hesitantly, but Five either ignores him or doesn’t hear him, so he tries again. “Five!”
Five still doesn’t react beyond a handful of muffled curses, but Klaus catches the glint of a knife in his hand and he may not really know what’s going on but he isn’t going to let Dave die because of Five’s new kill first ask questions later policy.
“Five, that’s enough!” Klaus yells, and suddenly both Dave and Five are shoved violently away from one another by a wave of pulsing blue light. “One of you is going to explain what is going on right this fucking instant. I don’t want to ask again.”
Dave had tumbled to the ground after the blue light had hit him and he still doesn’t move, just looks up at Klaus with wide, pained eyes and pursed lips. It’s a look Klaus knows well; I’m not saying a damn thing that’ll incriminate me. Usually it’s saved for when he’s eaten the last of the take out, or accidentally spilled soda on Klaus’s favorite blanket, and it sends a sharp pang of something through his chest that he’s not brave enough to investigate right now.
Five clambers to his feet, turning his poisonous glare onto Klaus as he smooths his hair down and straightens his tie, visibly collecting himself.
When he speaks, his voice echoes in the silence like a gunshot.
“Your boyfriend,” he hisses, and Klaus’s correction of fiancé dies in his throat at Five’s next words. “Works for the fucking Commission.”