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There was a reason why they did not share a bathroom with Klaus. The main one was that Klaus loved to take long baths, baths that can last for hours. 

Diego can't understand this fascination, maybe because bathtubs, pools, or tanks remind him of the times when his father would leave him locked for hours in his training tank. Diego couldn't breathe, just held his breath, otherwise, he would drown. He hated it. 

He developed a phobia and only took short showers, just enough to avoid smelling unpleasant and to clean the blood if necessary.

But the academy is being rebuilt and the loft they occupy with Five has only one bathroom. 

Diego had vowed to give up his life of vigilantism, but he also can't ignore when a robbery is happening in front of his eyes. But if his psycho little brother found out, he would tell the others. He would never hear the end of the sermon. 

Therefore he couldn't wait for Klaus to finish. He would clean up a bit, just enough so that Five wouldn't get suspicious. Klaus wouldn't say anything if he promised to take him for waffles. 

So he doesn't hesitate to go into the bathroom. Of course, Klaus neither sees nor hears him, too lost in his little pleasure and the music he could hear coming out of the headphones. Someday the brunette is going to go deaf, but Klaus claimed that the music blocked out the ghosts' screams, especially since he had been sober for six months. 

He was proud of Klaus. Six months for someone who has been on the drugs since he was 12 years old, that's a real wonder, a miracle. 

His hands are clean, as are his arms, once he finishes washing his face, he looks at his reflection in the mirror, looking for any trace of blood, but Klaus stretches his neck, and his gaze notices something purple on the immaculately clean, pale brunette's neck. 

He's not an idiot. It's a hickey. A mark of possession, and his stomach threatens to spew his dinner as he imagines Klaus with another man having sex. 

It's not the first time Klaus has arrived with a hickey. He knows, sadly, it won't be the last either. And it bothers him too much. 

Klaus shouldn't let other people mistreat his delicate body. If it were him, he would kiss every millimeter of that beautiful, homogeneous, tattooed skin. He would adore that slim, supple body as he leads him into ecstasy until exhaustion claims them and they fall asleep clinging to each other: satisfied, happy and safe. 

Ever since he was a teenager he's had this crazy fantasy of being with Klaus, but it's just that, a fantasy. 

"Dee?" Klaus' voice sounds relaxed; he doesn't know if it's from the bath or the pre-bath activities.

"I need to take a shower" He comments, feeling annoyed.

Klaus gets that perplexed look on his face and his lips get that pout that Diego wants to kiss until it disappears "Okay, that's rude." 

Diego expects Klaus to have the decency and cover his body with the dressing gown next to him, but it's Klaus he's talking about. Klaus doesn't know what decency is and loves to walk around naked. Of course, he would walk out of the bathroom naked, and Diego can only stare as water drips down that smooth skin. Even if he wanted to avert his gaze, he couldn't. Klaus is a vision. 

Then Klaus turns to grab his dressing gown and sees other hickeys on Klaus's back. 

"Did you have fun tonight?" he asks, grabbing Klaus's arm, trying not to be rough but he can't help it.

"It was rather exhausting" is the medium's reply.

Enough! He thinks angrily, frustrated and hurt. Holding the back of Klaus' neck, he brings their lips together in a passionate kiss. Releasing his pain, frustration, and desire in that lust-filled kiss. 

Klaus responds with the same eagerness, clinging to his arms and pulling their bodies as close together as possible until his clothes become uncomfortable, tight, and uncomfortable. 

Klaus has deft hands, he thinks as they step into the shower naked, thanks to Klaus's help. The sound of the water dulls their moans and loving words as their hands roam each other shamelessly. Eager and eager to get to know each other's bodies. 

Diego's mouth moves down to Klaus' neck, gently kissing the delicate skin until it stops where the offending hickey lies. At another time he wouldn't even dare to think about it, but seeing that mark, he simply rests his lips on it and bites down gently. Erasing any trace of another person with his lips. 

"Mine," he murmurs, holding Klaus in his arms as he leans him against the tiles and sways his pelvis against Klaus'. 

"Yours," Klaus replies, making sure to hold on to Diego's body. 

They just can't stop, not that they want to stop, not until they can both be satisfied. It's just that the shower isn't the most comfortable place to do everything Diego wants to do to Klaus. Besides, with their luck, they're both probably going to get interrupted soon.

"I want to do so many things to you," he murmurs, massaging their erection with his hand. 

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes," Klaus seems lost, too busy kissing his shoulders and neck. 

When they both reach ecstasy, Diego doesn't even have the strength to hold on, so they both slowly slide down to the shower floor and let the water wash away any vestiges of their love as they kiss slowly and tenderly. 

"We should...go out" he murmurs, as he feels the water start to run cold.

"Yes," he agrees, somewhat reluctantly Klaus. 

Klaus dries his back and he returns the favor, drying Klaus' hair and back. He stops to look at the hickeys and with something bordering on jealousy, he touches them carefully. Wishing he could wipe them away.

"The Horrors can be a bit rough" comments Klaus and Diego stops as if someone has kicked him in the stomach. 

"What?" he asks 

"Five is making me train with Ben and the horrors got out of control. You should have seen Ben's face, he was so embarrassed" Klaus laughs and Diego doesn't know whether to laugh, cry or be grateful to the beasts. 

"I'll go to my room before the old man arrives. You're welcome if you want to continue what we started in the shower" informs the brunette, of course, he comes out of the bathroom naked, wiggling his hips exaggeratedly. 

He looks at himself in the mirror, wanting to laugh at the situation, until he notices a hickey on his neck. 

"Klaus!!!" he calls angrily, chasing after his lover. 

Chapter Text

Ben was covered in blood. No, it wasn't Ben's blood, he'd have a breakdown if it was. It was just the blood of the bank thieves that the Horrors had taken it upon themselves to destroy. And even though it wasn't Ben's blood, Klaus was sure that Ben wasn't hurt, Number Six kept shivering like a small animal would in the rain. 

Only Five's strong grip kept him from getting close to Ben. Of course, Five wasn't trying to be cruel, but their father was watching them closely, giving a show of affection or weakness in front of their father or the cameras was forbidden, and if Reginald ever disobeyed: Ben and he would be punished. 

As if giving a hug or reassuring someone you love was a crime, a sin. 

"Ben" he mutters, hoping to be heard by the aforementioned.

Luckily, Ben hears him and gives him a small, fragile, shaky smile. 

Their father quickly gathers them together and takes them back to the academy, where Viktor, his mother, and Pogo are waiting for them. As soon as they enter the mansion, their father orders them to remove their uniforms and clean up for dinner. He sneaks out with Five's help and, as is now routine, helps Ben wash the blood out of his hair.

"I'm a monster" declares Six, through bitter tears. 

"No" he assures him. " You're not a monster. Don't say that" he wants to cry but he has to be strong, for Ben. 

"Can you see them?" asks Ben, looking around.

Contrary to popular belief, Klaus is not stupid, he knows immediately who Ben is referring to; and yes, he can see the bank thieves around the bathroom, but that's a secret he'll take to the grave 

"No. They're gone" he lies "There aren't any ghosts around you, you don't have to worry about that." 

"Do you swear?" asks the youngest

"I swear" Ben stares at him, hoping to find something to give him away, but he puts on his best nonchalant face, his mask perfected over the years, and when Ben's shoulders relax, he almost wants to sigh in relief. 

When he finishes helping Ben, they both walk to his room. Ben hates being alone after wearing the horrors. 

"I'll get you some clean clothes," he says, before running into the next room. 

When he returns, Ben is lying under his blankets. He doesn't want to disturb him; if it were up to him, he'd put Ben in the highest tower, away from missions, training, and their father. But they have at most ten minutes before Grace calls them to dinner. He can't let his father punish Ben.

"Come on, Ben" he pleads "We must get down soon" insists "We'll be punished" he reminds him.

That seems to achieve enough fear for Ben to move and put on his uniform before he quickly puts it on. They arrive just in time.

That night, they both sleep in each other's arms, under the blankets, where neither horrors, ghosts nor Reginald can disturb them.

There are times when Klaus wishes he were stronger, more powerful, brave enough to run away from the academy and take Ben with him. But for now, they will have to settle for each other's arms. 

His life falls apart. Five disappear. Training becomes unbearable and all he can do is turn to drugs. 

The drugs give him a break from his thoughts, ghosts, and traumas. It's like being able to breathe after battling the waves that are trying to pull him under. 

He just needs a breather. 

"Ben calls out to him, holding him in his arms. He's drowning because he can't breathe. "Don't do this to me, Ben" he begs, there is so much blood.

" Hug me" Ben whispers, his voice sounding so far away.

But he holds him tightly against his chest, as tight as his weak arms are capable. "I love you," he says over and over again.

Ben doesn't answer and suddenly it's very cold all around them. 

He lets himself sink, by the ghosts, by his memories, by his sins and longings, but most of all by the drugs. 

It's a free fall. 

"Stop doing this to yourself" Ben looks angry. He always seems angry with him

"Why?" he asks, trying to sound nonchalant, even adding a laugh at the end. Sometimes he's not sure where his mask ends and his real self begins. 

"Please, Klaus," Ben pleads. 

He takes five pills. What's the point of seeing Ben if he can't even hug him.

Ben's hugs were the best and so were his kisses. 

Ben leaves...it's the only way he can understand. 

And since it's Ben he's talking about, of course, Ben would do something risky, crazy, and heroic. He saves Viktor from bringing about the end of the world and then leaves without first asking his little brother to tell him that he didn't stay by his side these 17 years because Klaus took away his chance to go to heaven. He stayed because he was afraid to cross the light. 

And when Klaus is alone in the destroyed house of Viktor's girlfriend, he kisses Dave's dog tags and laughs. Because Ben is a liar just as he was a liar when he told Ben there were no ghosts around him. 

What a pathetic pair of liars!

At least Viktor got to hug Ben before he left. 

He dies. It's not the first time he's done it. It's happened more than 90 times, the first 56 times he had no idea. The others were when he was training with Reginald. The second to last time was because he committed suicide when Reginald left him to die for the Kugelblitz. 

It should come as no surprise that his last death was confronting Reginald. He was protecting Five. At least his elderly brother had managed to kill Reginald. 

Ben Sparrow holds him, no, and hugs him. He knows Ben is telling him something but he can't hear him. But it feels good, this Ben knows how to give good hugs too. It's not his Ben, but it's Ben and he's glad that in the end, this idiot survived. 

He wants to tell him a lot of things: that he's an idiot, that he loves him not because he looks like HIS Ben but because Two is great, but he can't feel his body, he's too tired. 

Finally, he dies and it's the first time he has no regrets. Reginald was dead, his siblings were safe as were the Sparrows and the universe could be fixed. Five will work it out. 

And when he wakes up he doesn't see the God girl, as usual. Instead, he is lying on a comfortable couch, the place is warm and smells of old books. 

"You woke up?" asks a voice so familiar.

He forces himself to look. He knows he no longer has a heartbeat, but he could swear his heart is beating fast. Maybe because he's excited or because he's scared. 

"Ben" whispers the name with a mixture of affection and uncertainty. He wants to run to hug him but is afraid of being rejected.

Number Six is on the other side of the room, looking at him seriously "You shouldn't be here" he says and feels as if Diego has stabbed him.

"I can go," he says, pointing to the door. He's sure the God girl will be able to show him the way, maybe he can go see his mother or Dave or have his heaven. 

"Don't be an idiot. I don't mean here but you shouldn't be dead" of course, Ben will always be his stormy little cloud on his sunny day. He loves him for that.

"Well...Dad killed me again," he explains. 

Ben's eyes look dark, like he's angry "I know" he says through gritted teeth "I saw it all". 

"Are they okay?" he asks, wanting to know how his siblings and the Sparrows are doing. 

"Yes. You can still come back" 

Oh. He never thought of that possibility. He felt that since he had no powers, simply going back wasn't an option, but apparently, he has. 

"I don't want to leave" he states.

"Our brothers are waiting for you, just like that other Ben" Number Six sounds jealous. 

"But I want to be with you" he has never been so honest in his life and somewhat fearfully he slowly approaches HIS Ben. 

"Idiot" 

"I miss you" he's so close "I still love you" he declares and could shout it if necessary. 

"Selfish" whispers Ben.

Klaus won't deny it. "Yes, but yours" he assures, standing in front of Ben.

"Mine," says Ben, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Ben's hugs and kisses, HIS Ben, are the best. This is his place, his heaven, no, their heaven.

Chapter Text

This day was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives. An unforgettable day. A celebration, the union of their lives. But instead of celebrating their wedding, he's watching his fiancé trying to put his life back together, without even remembering him. 

It almost seems like divine punishment, and he's not sure whether to laugh or cry in desperation. He has done many bad things throughout his life, his hands are covered in blood, the blood he would shed again to keep the ones he loves safe. But if this is the price to pay for his sins...it is too high. 

Is this what his hundred-year-old version meant when he told him not to save the world? What was the point of humanity surviving if Klaus didn't even remember? 

He can't blame Klaus for not knowing him, for rejecting him, for trying to remake what's left of his life. Nor can he blame his siblings who don't know what to do with them or the Sparrows who have cared for Klaus all this time. He can't even blame his bastard father, who was the one who hurt Klaus. He can't because he planned to attack Reginald. It was his strategy, his plan of attack.  

"Are you sure? You know, we could live our lives quietly, being normal" Klaus looked nervous. Like he knew something was going to go wrong. 

" Relax," he had kissed him, carefully and lovingly, a silent promise that everything was going to be alright. "We'll beat Reginald and then we'll have a big wedding" he had assured him, so convinced they would be victorious.  

"And then we'll move up north to raise alpacas," joked the brunette. 

"Sure, whatever you want honey."  

He should have listened to Klaus, even without his powers, his brunette seemed to have this natural gift for knowing things that others didn't. They should have moved north and raised alpacas like Klaus wanted, at least they would have each other.  

Yes, they defeated Reginald. They got their powers and their world back, including Claire, but Klaus didn't even know who they were, the only person he seemed to remember was Ben. He couldn't even blame the Sparrow for taking care of Klaus and falling in love with him.  

It's not that he hasn't tried to talk to Klaus, to get him back, they've tried several doctors, but the answer is always the same: Klaus might wake up one morning and remember, or he might never do it. The human brain is complex and there is no treatment for memory loss. 

For the first few months, Klaus tried to live with him, to settle into their old routine, but it was like living with a stranger. This Klaus was not his Klaus. He was a stranger. And he was a stranger to Klaus. After three months Klaus simply asked to leave with Ben and Five didn't have the heart to refuse.  

After a year, maybe he had to accept that Klaus was never going to get his memory back. Even the doctors, his family, and Klaus himself gave up.  

But Five still clings to that small hope. He may not be able to change this present, but he can change the past.  

He can still do it, he has his powers again, he just has to figure out what moment he has to change to get his beloved back and everything will be alright again.  

With one last look at Klaus, he promises himself to get his Klaus back, but for now, he has the Commission to create.  

Chapter Text

The first time Klaus knew something was wrong with him was when he was twelve years old, he had simply been watching Viktor and Five studies in the library, seeing the complicity between them, the affection shining in Five's eyes, and the smiles they share between them, was enough to make his chest feel heavy, almost as if he couldn't breathe. 

He doesn't think anything of it and turns his eyes to his homework, next to him Ben works quietly, helping Diego whenever he sees him struggling with math problems. 

But when he hears Five's laughter he can't help but turn to look at Number Five and that's the first time his torture begins. He has to run to the bathroom because his brothers turn to look at him in surprise when he won't stop coughing.

The harder he tries to stop the coughing, the worse it gets. 

He doesn't think much of it, it has started to get cold and he has always been a sickly child, besides, the mausoleum was very cold at night. Maybe, if he behaved, his father would let him wear a coat or he could take advantage of the situation, like when he broke his jaw, Grace would give him pills for the pain, and Five would come back to look after him. That would be great.

It's not until he spits out an orange petal that he starts to worry. As far as he knows from anatomy and health classes, he shouldn't spit out petals after a coughing fit. 

Is it a useless new power, or is there something more dangerous going on? 

Maybe he should talk to his mother, but he doesn't want his father to know, especially since they will soon be introduced to society as "Umbrella Academy". So he keeps the petal in his jacket pocket. Hoping it's the last and only time that happens to his body. 

Ben convinces him to talk to Grace. He does, his mother checks carefully and inevitably his father finds out. Pogo and his mother looked confused and perhaps a little concerned, but his father sends him to his room, claiming his discomfort is from the cigarettes he smokes. 

A few days later they have their Superheroes presentation and it is wonderful, the best part of the evening is not that they have defeated the thieves, but that Five allows him to lean on his shoulder. That brief contact makes the pain in his chest magically subside. 

Five looks beautiful in the mask and that confident smile. In the night he spits out another petal, he recognizes it, it's from a tulip. Seeing it reminds him of Five and he ends up keeping the new petal with the other one.

Months later, Five is gone and that night, while trying not to cry because he is choking from coughing, he spits out a whole flower, a small blue flower that reminds him of Five's eyes. He keeps the flower with the other petals he has accumulated over the months. They are Gerbera petals, representing first and innocent love, and tulips, signifying sincere love. Now he has spat out a whole flower of "Forget me not", the flower that represents eternal love, even beyond death. 

He can no longer deny that there is something wrong with him. The problem is that he doesn't know what's wrong with him and he's not sure he wants to know. 

At the age of 22, after having accumulated hundreds of little "forget-me-nots" and petals of different flowers from chrysanthemums, carnations, and lilies, he discovers what he has.

No, he does not have a useless power. He has a sickness called Hanahaki or flower sickness or unrequited lovesickness. It is not a common illness but it is not unknown either, and there is even a treatment to cure it.

It is a simple surgery, they remove the plant that grows in his lungs, and in doing so the patient forgets the person he is in love with. He refuses to have the surgery and forgets Filip. 

Ben looks at him with sad eyes and makes sure to drown himself in as much alcohol and drugs as possible. The drugs help him not to feel...broken and incomplete. 

Who knew love could be so painful? 

It doesn't matter, anyway, according to the doctors, he doesn't have much time left. Hopefully, they'll serve cucumber sandwiches at his funeral. 

It's ironic and reassuring to know that he's going to die again, only this time, it will be for good. He's not coming back to life after this death. His powers are gone and he has strangely reached a point where he feels at peace. 

He has lived with the Hanahaki for over 20 years, far more than half his life and there is not a moment when he remembers what it was like to breathe without choking on petals and stalks growing in his lungs. 

Each time he died, the sickness returned to zero. It's been a year since his sister and Reginald rebooted the world and lost their powers. He doesn't have much time left and he knows it. So he tries to be a good brother, the good brother he couldn't be for Ben: he helps Luther to find Sloane, he also helps Diego and Lila with the baby preparations and makes sure to support Viktor at every concert. 

He even visits Allison and assures her that he loves her and is happy that she has her daughter and husband back. The rest of his siblings still find it hard to forgive their sister, but they will, Klaus knows they will. There is nothing that brings his family closer together than weddings and funerals, and they will soon have one. So everything will be fine. 

He also helps Ben, even though this Ben isn't HIS Ben, he's learned to love him even when he's being a grumpy jerk most of the time. 

The only person he stays away from is Five. His illness gets worse in Number Five's presence and Five is still trying to adjust to his new adult body, to not having his powers, and to university. Five doesn't need to worry about him.

The only problem he has is Ben. Of course Ben, no matter what Ben was, would find out what was going on with him. 

" I talked to Allison, I have the money for the surgery," Ben tells him trying to feign nonchalance but Klaus can see that vein in his forehead stand out. That only happens when he's angry or worried. 

"What surgery, Benerino?" he asks while smiling "Don't tell me you're getting a penis enlargement". 

"Shut up, you idiot" he sounds angry and Klaus mentally congratulates himself because he knows that Ben will go slamming the door and won't speak to him for a few days. But that doesn't happen, Ben doesn't leave. "Klaus...please" is the first time Ben begs him. He reminds him so much of Ben. "I lost my whole family, I don't want to lose you too. Talk to Allison, maybe she can help you." 

It's not fair but he simply can't refuse. Ben is also good at manipulating people. 

Allison agrees to help him. It's not like he had to beg her or anything. Just when his sister finds out what he's going through, she assures him that she'll do everything in her power to help him if she can't get rid of the disease with the rumor ( he never thought of that), then she'll pay for the surgery.

"Maybe you should tell him" his sister mentions, casually.

"Who?" he asks with a mouth full of food, no one knows who he's in love with. 

"Five" is his sister's quiet, intelligent reply "You're not the most discreet person, Klaus. You've had this crush on Five since you were thirteen."

"Eleven" he corrects "I was eleven when I thought Five was cute." 

"Five would never hurt you," his sister assures him.

"That's the problem, Ally," he says, feeling bitter and sad, he can feel his chest feeling more compressed and that familiar tickle in his throat is driving him crazy "What do you think Five will do if he knows I'm dying because he doesn't reciprocate my feelings?" his voice rises higher than he wants it to, but he feels exhausted, he hasn't been able to sleep in days "Uh? Tell me. You know him as well as I do. He'll pretend to love me but in the end, we'll be unhappy, and I'll end up dying and then Five will feel guilty" He has to cover his mouth with a paper napkin so his sister won't see the blood gushing from his mouth.

"Don't be dramatic, Klaus, and don't underestimate Five or his feelings. He's been worried about you. He's even called me to ask about you and I'm not his favorite sister right now," says his only sister, "Just talk to him." 

He's not going to. 

He doesn't have time anymore, his body collapses as he argues with Allison. 

Viktor's call gets him out of bed and he runs full speed to the hospital, never regretting losing his powers as much as he does right now when all he wants to do is get to Klaus' side. In his head all he can think about is Klaus. 

Klaus has Hanahaki and is in the last stage. 

No. No. No. No. He can't lose Klaus, that's just not something that can happen. Klaus always seemed so carefree and happy. How could that happen without him noticing? Why didn't Klaus say anything? Why keep something so important to himself? Was it because of Dave? Was it because of Ben? Who was the cause of Klaus' pain? 

The receptionist gives him a pitying look as she tells him where to go, doesn't even wait for the lift, goes up the stairs as fast as his legs will allow, and has to pause as he tries not to look like a mad person. 

"The doctors say it's too late to perform the surgery" Ben's voice makes him slow down. Allison and Ben haven't seen him. "The only thing they can do is keep him sedated, so he doesn't die in pain."  

His chest starts to ache as if something ugly and dark is growing inside him. 

"The rumor doesn't work either" Allison looks resigned, how dare she give up? It was Klaus' life they were talking about. 

"This is Five's fault." 

What?

"Don't blame Five. Klaus never confessed, even to the end he was stubborn about telling Five." Allison defends him, but Five doesn't care about that.

Oh. Oh. This is his fault. Klaus wasn't dying for Dave or Ben, he was dying for him. 

"Where is he?" he asks, letting his sister and Ben know of his presence. They both look guilty but Five cares very little about how they feel right now. He'll sort things out later, now he has to save Klaus. 

He has to tell him how he feels. 

Allison points to Klaus' room and Five isn't sure how he was able to get there, but when he enters Klaus is hooked up to several machines that help him breathe, and just as Ben mentioned, Klaus is sedated so he won't suffer. 

"The doctors say there's a chance he might be able to hear us," his sister communicates. 

Allison says other things but he can't hear her, his brain is too busy going over every moment that Klaus could have given him some indication that he was in love with him. There are many but he never paid attention, too busy trying to save his family. 

How ironic! 

Carefully, as if Klaus is going to break, he takes Klaus' hand, kissing the knuckles. 

"Hey, Klaus" he greets, wishing the brunette would answer him. "Please" he begs, resting his head on the chestnut's chest "Don't leave me, darling" he pleads, feeling exhausted.

He continues to murmur words of love, longing to be heard. He can't lose Klaus. He can't. 

Allison closes the door to the room. Whatever is going to happen, now it's only up to Five and Klaus. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

It's not as if their relationship was a secret that no one knew about, in fact, Klaus could bet, without fear of losing what little he had, that most of his siblings knew that his relationship with Five was not platonic. After all, neither he nor his lover were the most discreet people in the world, and whenever they were together, it was pretty obvious from their not-so-casual touches, their long looks of affection, and the occasional random stolen kiss. 

Not to mention the other activities they did since arriving at the hotel.

Five is not a patient person, and he is not quiet, so Klaus is sure that all of his siblings know they have been having sex since arrived at the hotel. Also, the marks on his neck are hard to hide, even with make-up, and Klaus has made sure that Five always has a kiss mark somewhere visible.

So their relationship is no secret, but apparently, his siblings didn't know about them.

Until now, and surprisingly it wasn't his big mouth that exposed their relationship, the one to blame for his siblings being quite dumbfounded is none other than his very, very drunk boyfriend. 

One would think that Five would be a rather violent drunk, considering that every five minutes Five was threatening to kill them, and when he was a child his way of getting attention was to stick a knife to the table; but surprisingly Five drunk was an extremely loving, honest and rather bold person.

Bold enough to openly declare that he loves him and wants to marry him. Five, being Reginald's favorite son, he had made a long congratulatory speech to Luther and Sloane, before trying to sing him a love song, declaring that he wanted to marry him.

If this whole situation wasn't so .... .hilarious, Klaus would be excited and happy. Instead, he is trying to stop his boyfriend from sticking his hand down his shirt in front of their whole family.

Klaus is not a shy person, and nakedness is not something that makes him uncomfortable, but having sex in front of his siblings is something very different. He wouldn't even let Ben stay in the same room when he had sex in the past.

"I love you" Five declares for the fourth time, kissing his neck. 

"Fivey" tries to push Five away, but most of his brothers still do not react. 

" Be quiet, I'm trying to seduce you" protests the old man in a young man's body. 

This time, Klaus is going to have to be the adult in charge " I am not complaining, but not here" he declares firmly "I'll put him to bed" he announces and regrets it when sees Diego looks like he is going to have a nervous breakdown, Lila smiles like a little psycho, Viktor raises his glass while smiling amused, Ben and Sloane look confused, Allison snorts and walks away with dignity while Luther seems to be too dumbfounded to say anything.

Good thing the end of the world is near! Klaus thinks as he drags his lover towards the lift. An almost impossible task because Five seems more focused on touching him under his clothes as he tries to remove them while awkwardly kissing him.

"Marry me," the older man asks again.

Klaus sighs like a schoolgirl in love at those sincere but awkward words. He sighs the same way he sighed for Five when he was 13. It's not his fault that Five is so cute when he's drunk, Five is always beautiful, but when Five's drunk: he's adorable.  

"Ask me when you're not drunk," he murmurs against Five's lips. "Tomorrow, you're going to regret all this so much."

"I won't."

Klaus laughs as he imagines the look on his lover's face when he learns that their family now knows about their relationship. "Oh yes, you will." 

Five leans against him, holding him tightly around the waist "You have beautiful eyes" he murmurs.

"Oh honey, you're so drunk" he laughs, not meaning it meanly but it's amusing to see this relaxed side of Five. 

"I'm not" he protests, and Klaus has to struggle to keep his balance as he leads Five to their room. 

Five may not be as tall as he is, but his latest growth spurt has given him a more toned and muscular body, so Klaus has difficulty getting them to the bed, Five who is still growing, Klaus has always been more compact and slim. Luckily they make it to the bed without falling off on the way. 

"Come, lie down next to me," asks Five, opening his arms in invitation. 

This is not how he imagined they would spend their last night, but when Five embraces him and feels his warm body against his, he can't imagine anything better than this. Perhaps letting the world end and dying is much better than constantly fighting and escaping the apocalypse.

After all, he has learned to control his powers, and knows they could have a good life in the void. Their little piece of heaven. Together for all eternity. 

"I love you" he confesses, and Five kisses him softly, tenderly, and lovingly.

Their relationship was no secret, and maybe has a lot of explaining to do tomorrow to their dysfunctional family, but for now, this is all Klaus needs to be happy.

Chapter Text

His morning began like any other morning in the last few months, with his arms around his husband's waist, inhaling the addictive smell of lavender and the brown curls tickling his nose. 

Even after a year, he still feels excited to wake up next to his husband, and like every morning, he has mixed feelings that oscillate between gratitude and hatred for his father. Without Reginald, he would never have met his angel, but he also regrets that his father has kept his husband locked up and experimented on him. He does not even dare to think what would have happened if they had never discovered what Reginald was doing in the basements with Grace's help. 

The Horrors seem disturbed by his thoughts, as every time they remember those plaintive moans and the fear in those magnificent green eyes. He had fallen in love with his brunette at that moment, something he never thought possible after Jennifer.

Ben has never considered himself a good person, but his husband makes him want to be a better person, a better brother, friend, and hero. It hasn't been easy. He's so used to hiding behind his armor of self-centredness, arrogance, and idiocy that he'd forgotten how to be kind or honest with his feelings. But after three years, he rarely wears his old armor when he's around his husband or siblings. 

He no longer fears his siblings' rejection or their indifference. He no longer worries that Marcus has taken his place as Number One or feels angry about what has happened - if he has to be honest, the only concern he has now is that something will happen to his family, especially his husband.

The horrors have been restless as if they want to warn him of something. He knows he is becoming very paranoid. But he cannot help it. 

Jade still doesn't remember his past, who he was before Reginald locked him up and experimented on him. There is no information from Jade; except some notes of his powers and that he was also one of the miracle children, just like them. That doesn't stop him from fearing that one day his husband will remember his old life and decide to leave. Perhaps Jade has a loving family looking for him, and although his siblings accuse him of selfishness, he is unwilling and unwilling to lose his husband. 

It was he who rescued Jade from his prison. Ben was the first person Jade saw. It was he who gave his husband Jade's name and cared for him for the first few months when he could barely walk. The thought of someone appearing out of nowhere and snatching his angel from him is terrifying. 

Jade considers him a hero, but his beautiful husband doesn't know that it was he who saved Ben from himself.

Ben's fear becomes true when a group of strangers invades their home. They are Reginald's other children, call him brother and know his name, and even look happy to see him alive. Reginald met them in '63 in Dallas and made their father no longer want to adopt them. 

"We need your help," says the teen, looking at his father, "One of our brothers is missing." 

"You lost one of you?" asks Fei mockingly. 

These people are like them, like his Jade. 

"We took a defective briefcase, and when we used it, we appeared in different parts of the city a few days ago. We need Reginald's help," replies the petite woman.

Ben lets the air out of his lungs: if they only showed up a few days ago, there is no way they are Jade's family. His husband has been with them for three years.

"I am not your father, young men," Reginald says calmly to Grace's side.

"Yes, you are, and this is our home," announces the taller woman, who looks quite upset. Fei and Jayme get defensive, while Marcus even seems to have become more alert.

"This is Sparrow Academy," Sloane points out calmly. 

"We need to repair the briefcase and find Klaus," says the teenager, pointing to the briefcase he is carrying. 

Either way, the presence of these people makes the Horrors nervous, and therefore him too. Jade is in the market doing some shopping, so Ben needs these people to leave before his husband returns. Whether they are friendly or aggressive, he doesn't want them anywhere near Jade. 

"It's good to see you again, Ben. I wish Klaus could see you now. He would be so happy" The guy with the knives walks up to him and touches him.

And that's it: he hits the guy, making him take a few steps back. But that's all it takes for a fight between the two families to start. Marcus takes care of the bigger one, he would have liked to take care of the guy with the knives, but Christopher intervenes. Fei takes care of the taller woman while Sloane takes care of the other girl. The girls have Alphonso and Jayme to back them up. He confronts the teenager and lets the Horrors take over. 

"I still can't decide if it's a good or bad thing that you're alive," the boy says from the first floor, "It's good to see you again," then hits him before disappearing with his powers.

Things get out of control, but those individuals escape after the little woman defeats them and destroys half the living room. They are trying to clean up the mess when Jade shows up. 

"I'm back," His husband says until he walks into the living room. His siblings freeze as they listen to Jade " B-But...what the hell happened here?" 

Being the leader of the family has been an exhausting experience: his siblings have strong personalities, and although they have a system of ranks, it is sometimes difficult to maintain order within the household. For example, he knows that Jayme and Alphonso have caused trouble, picking unnecessary fights and even threatening civilians. For years Ben has been trying to get back into the number one position, sometimes conspiring with Fei or Christopher. But he has been able to stand his ground and be right. 

Jade has been a great help in keeping Ben busy and the rest of the members entertained. Jade has also proved to be an excellent cook, reducing Grace's workload. 

These last few years, without Reginald watching over them and forcing them to train to exhaustion, and with the arrival of Jade, have been peaceful. He could almost say they were a united family. But Marcus was not only chosen as leader for his strength but also his intelligence. 

Jade was Ben's greatest strength and greatest weakness. Ben would cause chaos to see Jade happy and safe. The attack and how Ben had reacted when the Umbrella invaded their home was all the confirmation he needed.  

And even though he doesn't like to act behind his siblings' backs, he tells himself it's for their own good. 

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me" Viktor expresses his thanks, which is a drastic change between the woman who defeated his siblings yesterday afternoon and the man who sits across the table from him. 

"You're welcome. You can consider it a favor from number one to another number one."

"I'm number seven."

These people are strange. 

"Look, we don't want to cause trouble. We need Reginald's help to go home and find our brother." 

"What do you need to get back to your home?" 

"During the fight, my brother lost the briefcase" . It probably happened when Jayme drugged the teenager "this is my brother, not his best picture, but it's him, our Klaus" he shows him a book and stares at the picture, recognizing the man. 

It is Jade. Even in the photograph, his brother-in-law looks haggard, and now Jade has more neatly groomed hair and wears feminine clothes, Ben's husband. The man whom their father kept locked in the cellar and whom they rescued three years ago.

They have the missing Umbrella brother, and for a moment, he hesitates, he could tell Viktor where his brother is and hand him over along with the briefcase, but that meant losing a member of his family. Ben would be the most affected but not the only one.

" Meet me tomorrow. I'll give you the briefcase and see if we can do something for your brother." 

Being the leader of the Sparrow academy is exhausting, and for the first time in years, he doesn't know what to do. Marcus knows he must do the right thing, yet he wants to protect his family. 

He wakes up a bit overwhelmed. For a moment, he thought he heard Marcus shouting, but it was just him and his husband in their room, and the house is pretty quiet and still. That doesn't stop him from having a bad feeling.

Ever since he heard that the academy was under attack, he hasn't stopped feeling nervous, anxious, and worried. 

"여보 (honey)" Ben doesn't touch him but turns on the lights, illuminating the room with a warm yellow light. "What happened?" 

"Where's Marcus?" he asks, getting out of bed. 

Ben is a little confused but follows his husband out of the room. They don't get very far, Christopher and Fei approach them with neutral expressions, but Ben knows his sister well enough to know that something is bothering her.

"We have a problem," is the first thing the woman says. Chris mutters something. 

"Have you seen Marcus, Fei?" Jade questions about Number One. 

"That's the problem. We can't find Marcus," says Fei.

Jayme, Sloane, and Alphonso peek out from their rooms "when was the last time you saw him?" Ben knows he has to calm his siblings and husband. It's his place as Number Two to keep order when Marcus is away. 

Fei and Christopher looked at each other "He met with one of the umbrellas, and then my crows lost him," she informs, trying to keep calm.

Jayme curses and Sloane and Alphonso look worried. Ben, for his part, is shocked and clutches Jade's hand as he looks at him with his big green eyes full of worry. Even someone like his untrained husband knows what that means. His brother and leader have got kidnapped.  

"Fei, Christopher, and Sloane get ready. If the Umbrella has one of us, we will take one of them," he orders, and his siblings quickly obey.

Ben has asked him to stay away from their unwilling guest, but he can't help getting curious. There is something nostalgic and familiar about the blond man. He almost feels like he knows him from somewhere, but he can't quite put his finger on where. 

Sloane looks very interested in their guest. It's the first time he'd see his best friend so happy and interested. Fei, Christopher, and Ben have gone to meet with the Umbrellas, while Alphonso and Jayme have gone out. 

Ben will be annoyed with him, but he's very curious. 

"Lunch will be ready soon," he announces, interrupting Sloane and the guest's chatter. 

They both turn to look at him. Sloane shakes her head, scolding him with her gaze, while their guest looks surprised, staring at him as if he were a ghost. How ironic, his powers are to see ghosts, but that doesn't mean he is one.

"Klaus?" he seems to hesitate as he watches him closely.

That name makes something in his head ring like a bell. A warning. A memory. Distant and confused.

The man hugs him tightly, and his body relaxes against the muscular man. It feels safe, a little nostalgic, and overwhelming. Because of what happened with Reginald, he doesn't like to be touched by surprise, and his husband's family warns him before touching him or entering his personal space. The only exception has been Ben until now. 

"Brother. Where have you been?" the blond demands. 

He looks at Sloane. They finally found his family after searching for them for three long years. He still doesn't know if it's good news or not. 

"JADE!" shouts his husband worriedly. 

Reginald confirms that he is part of the Umbrellas, even mentioning that the Umbrellas have the same umbrella tattoo as Jade on his arm, but the old man doesn't know why he arrived so much earlier than the rest of his supposed siblings. The old man rambles about different theories, one more far-fetched than the other until Reginald mentions that it could be because his soul is bound to Ben's soul. As romantic as that is, the theory doubts its rationale. 

He plays with his wedding ring and smiles as he touches the tentacles engraved in gold. Ben has been silent for a long time, though he can see the Horrors trying to come out.

"Ben" tries to approach, but Ben doesn't turn to look at him. 

"You disobeyed me. I told you to stay away from the intruder." 

His Ben sounds more concerned than angry. So he encouraged himself to hug him. Even if Ben doesn't turn to reciprocate his hug, he clings to his husband. 

"I know, but on the one hand, it's a good thing, don't you think?" he asks, trying to lighten the mood " I found my family and I can talk to them about getting Marcus back for us." 

At the mention of his family, he notices Ben's body tense. "Ben?" 

"You want to go with your family?" 

"You are my family. I'm yours," he says sincerely. From the first moment, their eyes met in that dark basement, he knew: he belonged to Ben, in this and every life lived or yet to be living. 

The possessive kiss doesn't surprise him, nor does it surprise him that he responds enthusiastically to his husband's caresses. Almost as if they both feel desperate, needy, and frightened by this uncertain future. 

In some ways, he understands his husband's fear; he has also wondered what he would do if his family showed up? It seems he doesn't even belong to this world or this timeline. 

It terrifies him to think of having to leave with these people he doesn't even remember and having to leave Ben and the rest of his crazy, dysfunctional family of heroes. 

"Please," he begs against Ben's hungry lips, "I need you. I need you," he pleads, unbuttoning his husband's shirt, his hands shaking as his desire grows deeper and not even holding back the obscene moan as he feels the tentacles holding him as his husband undresses him.

He kisses Jade as if his sanity depends on it, and, in some way, it does. In less than two days, the near-perfect world he'd built was beginning to crumble around him, and though he was trying his best to stop it, he couldn't. 

Luther had wanted to take Jade to the hotel, and Ben had almost killed him if it wasn't for Sloane's intervention. 

When his father confirms that Jade is actually the Umbrella's long-lost brother: Klaus, he can only feel fear, fear of losing his husband, his family, and his love, and it's not fair, he has cared for Jade for over three years, loved him, given him a home, and makes him happy, but these people, these intruders, want to take his precious gem away from him. 

Ours. They scream the Horrors inside his head, and he has to agree with the creatures. Jade belongs to them. 

"I need you. I need you," his husband pleads against his mouth, and his chest feels warm as Jade unbuttons his shirt. He allows the Horrors to touch and hold his husband as he undresses him. 

He has to use all his willpower not to tear the expensive designer clothes. The translucent top is the first thing he removes, enjoying the moans his husband lets escape from that sinful mouth as the Horrors play with the pink nipples while his mouth leaves a hot trail around the brunette's neck and collarbone. The skirt is next, and his self-control falters at the sight of the lacy underwear next to the dark stockings that contrast beautifully with the pale skin. Well, not completely pale, Jade still sports some red and purple marks on his thighs, hips, and ass marks he left a few nights ago, and they still haven't faded. 

He kisses each one as he slides the panties down over the long legs but only leaves them halfway down. Too busy kissing those marks and enjoying his husband's stifled sighs. 

He laughs at the sight of the tentacles holding Jade's hands and legs while one of them is inside his husband's mouth. He is almost envious as he sees those pink lips wrapped around the naughty tentacle. 

"I could watch you like this all night," he comments, his hand caressing the flat belly, slowly rising. Jade looks sinful looking teary-eyed as one tentacle fucks his mouth and the others hold and touch him as he wears only the lace stockings, wedding ring, and tentacle anklet. "Maybe I should. It would be a good punishment for disobeying me and getting close to the intruder" Of course, his brunette protests wiggling his hips, seeking his. 

The friction of their bodies is so electrifying, rubbing against Jade's ass even if he is still wearing trousers, his erection feels uncomfortable inside his clothes, but the warmth of being between his husband's legs is always so comforting and desired. It makes the monster inside him calm down.

When the Horror releases Jade, he pulls him closer, kissing him desperately, and before he can even react, he's looking at his husband's mischievous grin as he rides him. 

"Oh," is all he can say. He forgets that Jade, despite his fragile, feminine appearance, is strong enough to dominate him, and he allows him to because he loves it when his beloved husband uses him at his whim. 

Jade's ass rubs against his awkward erection as the two kisses passionately. His brunette fingers caress his nipples, pinching the sensitive flesh before dragging the nails down his abs. 

"자기야 (jagiya/honey)" he whispers as he arches his back, seeking more friction from those fingers.

"Ah-ha," Jade says, squeezing his legs around his hips. Forced Ben to hold still. "Let me take care of you, 네 사랑 (ne sarang/my love)" he pronounces in a thick, awkward accent that makes his belly feel warm.

Though he's not sure if it's because of the awkward pronunciation, those hands unbuttoning his trousers, or the wet tongue running down his stomach. His husband releases his erection, stroking it gently. 

"Husband," he calls, and Ben obeys. They stare at each other for a moment before Jade smiles and utters: "You can use my mouth." 

"Kitten" is the only coherent thing he can say before he feels Jade's warm, wet, tight mouth around his cock. 

Jade takes his time to kiss and lick every inch of his dick, making sure to slide the foreskin, and seems to pay quite a bit of attention to his glans, sucking gently.  

"Am I doing it right, husband?" he has the nerve to ask as if the moans he can barely contain aren't enough of an answer, and for Jade, they aren't when receiving no response. Jade concentrates his tongue right on the tip of his glans. 

"Kitten," he tries to make it sound like a warning, but it sounds more desperate than he wants, and his husband laughs, but before he can think of how to punish him, he's already engulfing his cock again. 

His fingers grip the long curly hair tightly, making sure that mouth is going at the pace he wants. He doesn't even show mercy to that delicate mouth, plunging in as deep and fast as he can, feeling motivated by the obscene sound of his own heaving breathing and Jade's mouth. 

He makes the mistake of looking at his brunette, and that's all he can take; his belly feels cramped, warm, and aching. He is so close to orgasm, but it is not in his husband's mouth that he wants to come, so he clenches his hair, stopping any movement. Jade's mouth makes an obscene sound when he lets go and has to think of unpleasant things to keep from cumming on his husband's face. 

"You taste delicious, little octopus," Jade's voice sounds a little hoarse. 

His precious and naughty gem. Always ready to push him to the limit. What to do with such a treasure? All he can think to do is kiss him, enjoying the taste of Jade and his mingled together as he forces his husband to sit on his lap. 

"I want to come inside you, kitten," he declares, caressing Jade's ass. His fingers encircled the entrance, still sensitive after the afternoon's activities. They are sexual no surprise that Jade's insides receive him without resistance as he inserts his first finger. 

"Oh yes, please," pleads the brunette, clinging to his shoulders for balance as he seeks more friction, "More," he demands, and Ben can't refuse, not when his husband looks so ..... .needy. 

His husband's moans grow louder as he inserts his second finger, and he hardly waits any longer to insert his third and final fingers. 

"Do you think you can cum with just my cock?" asks wickedly, knowing his husband will take it as a challenge. 

"YES." he shouts to his amusement, "Christ, yes!" It's a good thing they've had their room soundproofed. "I need it," he demands, and that's it. 

He gently removes his fingers and makes sure not to hurt his husband. He slowly inserts his cock into the sensitive interior of his brunette. Of course, Jade never has his patience and doesn't even warn him when he drops on his cock. They both moan and groan at the sudden movement that won't stop. 

His hands tremble, but instead of stopping the abrupt movements, he helps his husband keep a steady, deep rhythm. 

It feels so good to be one with his husband; he has almost become addicted to this overwhelming and unique sensation. 

They are both very desperate; he can tell by the way Jade's eyes glisten from the tears he can barely hold back.

"I love you," he admits, trying to pull their bodies as close together as possible, wishing they could melt and become one forever. 

"I love you, my angel," his husband replies, squeezing his insides as he comes between their abdomens.

As much as Ben wishes this could last forever when Jade squeezes him, he can no longer hold back, the orgasm overtakes him, and he comes inside his brunette.

He takes a minute as he tries to recover; before pulling out of Jade. He gets a little protest, hushing it up by hugging the brunette. His husband is always affectionate after sex. 

"I meant it," Jade murmurs against his neck.

"What?" he asks 

"You're my family," repeats the brunette. "I'm glad to know I have a family, but if I have to choose...You're my first and only choice," he promises.

Any insecurities or fears about the future go away with those words, that promise that reminds him of the vows they said to each other when they got married. It doesn't matter that his husband's name is Klaus, not Jade, or that he belongs to another family or timeline. For him, his husband is also his first and only choice, and he will go to the ends of the universe for him. 

Notes: I'm thinking of dropping the drabble title, because there's nothing drabble about it when the stories range from a thousand words to four thousand. I'm going to see if I can start shortening the stories, because at this rate we're not going to make it to start the Halloween prompts.  

Chapter Text

He can see the stars shining in Klaus's eyes every time they are together, especially when they are both hidden by the soft sheets of his bed, as they move against each other's bodies, seeking mutual pleasure, between moans and smooth words that bring them to climax. 

Their relationship is strange, especially for their families. For his family, it is inconceivable that someone as arrogant, frivolous, and cruel as him would be interested in someone like Klaus. 

Precisely Klaus: the weak link in the family's enemy, and now sometimes ally. And if Ben hadn't lived all those months at Klaus' side during the reboot of the universe, he could understand his family's concern. 

After all, Klaus has always appeared to be a simple drunk, too fearful, clumsy, and useless in a fight. They might be right about that, but the brunette was much more than that. 

Klaus was a being from another world: he belonged neither among the dead nor the living, which made him unique and special. He knew things other people considered unimportant but turned out to be important. 

Klaus could travel between the planes of life and death as he pleased, he could talk to the dead, and he was very good at distracting people and getting information out of them, almost without them noticing. 

If I had to compare Klaus to something, it would be Pandora's box or the Trojan horse. 

So it's not surprising that his family considers Klaus ... not much by his high standards. 

As for Klaus' family, well, the Umbrellas had the same bad habit as his siblings when it came to judging Klaus. Maybe they were never interested in seeing that Klaus had kicked his drug addiction. He knew that the Umbrellas cared about Klaus, but they tended to ignore the brunette and believed they were together because Ben needed someone to control, and Klaus couldn't tell the difference between his dead brother and him. 

At some point, he had that doubt, too. What made him different from the perfect Ben? And it seemed to be many things and, at the same time, very few. But when Klaus looked at him, kissed him, and made love, it was him Klaus wanted, not his dead brother. 

He knew it by the way he pronounced his name, in a mixture of supplication and desire. When Klaus spoke of his brother, it was in an affectionate but rather annoying way. Unlike Klaus' brothers, who spoke about their Number Six as if he were some kind of saint; Klaus was very honest about his brother. Six was no saint, he was as broken as any son of Reginald Hargreeves.   

It is because of that honesty of seeing, recognizing, and accepting the people around him that Ben believes Klaus when he tells him that he loves him. It is one of the many reasons he has fallen in love with the brunette.

When Klaus sees him, he sees him, not Six; he sees the former Sparrow leader, the coward who let his first love die, the brother everyone distrusts for his cocky, arrogant, and cruel facade, but who deep down doesn't want to be hurt and rejected anymore. 

When Klaus looks at him, he sees him, recognizes, accepts, and loves him, embracing his virtues and faults. Klaus' eyes shine as if in those eyes, he holds a million stars every time he looks at him. 

"Ben, love," Klaus pleads, digging the nails into his back as he clings to him when Ben manages to hit that sweet spot inside him. 

"Yes, Pyxis" He likes to call Klaus after the brightest star in the Compass constellation. He finds it a fitting name for his lover, who can be as beautiful as a star. 

"More" he demands. Klaus can be so honest with his body that he becomes something beautiful to look at, at least in Ben's eyes. 

"But I like to take my time with you," and to show his point, he slows his thrusts, moving slowly as he kisses the brunette's shoulders and neck. 

Of course, Klaus tries to protest, but Ben is quick to kiss him, silencing any words, moans, or cries, leaving as the only sound the creaking of the bed, the slapping of their bodies meeting, their breaths heaving, and their mouths joined in a fiery kiss.

Klaus arches his back and spreads his legs, trying to get Ben deeper inside him, and Ben has to use all his self-control to not to cum. At another time, he wouldn't have minded their desperate, quick love making but tonight, Klaus looks beautiful with his hair in a mess, his skin flushed, his eyes teary, and the diamond ring occupying his middle finger.

Today he wants to take his time, make it lensed, deep and passionate, just the two of them, without the horrors in between. Just Klaus and Ben. Ben and Klaus. Two souls bound together, searching for each other through love, death, life, time, and space.

Klaus' eyes shine like stars as he reaches climax as he says his name, and Ben loves it. 

Chapter Text

The last time he saw Five was eight months ago. At that time, they had said goodbye at the airport. After three long years of relationship, everything ended with a sweet last kiss before they went off in different ways. They hadn't broken up; they were just a pause. At least, that's what Klaus kept saying to himself.

Five received a scholarship at MIT to study technological engineering, and he would move to France to study at one of the best schools for chefs, the Ecole Ducasse - Paris Studio. 

These had been their dreams and goals since they were kids. They vowed that neither their friendship nor their feelings would get in the way of their goals as they had seen in other people. 

When they started dating at fifteen, they had signed a contract that specified that once high school was over, both go their separate ways: without tears, heartbreak, or hormonal cravings. Only when their goals were complete did they seek each other out again. A sweet promise to hold on to as long as they stayed away from each other. 

At the time, it seemed like a perfect arrangement; they both knew each other as children, they were best friends, and there was a mutual attraction from the time they reached puberty that neither could deny. By being together, they could experience what it was like to have a relationship, unconditional support in high school, and someone to enjoy their raging hormones without having to end up with a broken heart. 

It seemed like the perfect plan, and Klaus had believed for years that it was, but as graduation approached, all he wanted was one more date, more kisses, more hugs, and just more time with his boyfriend. Gradually that deal was becoming a bitter condemnation in his mind. 

Eight months after moving to France, he still regretted that deal. 

Hadn't they said there would be no heartbreak? A disgusting lie because his heart had broken long before he said goodbye to Five at the airport. 

Many times thought about stopping this nonsense, asking for a change in the rules, getting a change in his study plan so he could follow his boyfriend to Massachusetts. But this dream was not just his: his mother had supported him so much, saving money for years, working long hours, and even working three jobs, for him to be able to come to France. He couldn't throw his mum's effort and his own away because he was in love with his best friend. 

Even as he thinks about it and goes over in his mind all the decisions he has made since he was 15, it seems absurd. How could he think that being away from his boyfriend wouldn't hurt? If Five was his everything. His first friend, his first love, his first kiss, his first time. 

And there he is again, looking at a letter he has written to Five, one of the many letters he has written in the last eight months and never has and never will send.

One of the conditions of their relationship had been that when the two of them were apart, they couldn't communicate by phone, text, or email. They had to concentrate on their goals and not be a distraction to each other. First loves rarely end well and don't survive more than a few weeks, let alone develop into something serious in the future. 

Although they never said anything about letters, it was not a common thing in such a technological world, but Klaus found it romantic and funny. He almost could imagine Five's indignant face to discover that he had found a way to break the rules without actually breaking them and by using such an old method. 

But like the previous letters, he won't send it either but will keep it in a box at the back of his wardrobe, wishing he could forget it ever existed. 

Klaus is a coward and doesn't want Five to reject him. Maybe that was the real reason why he accepted and didn't break that absurd contract. If he couldn't have Five by his side all his life, he would at least have him for a few years and keep every kiss, every caress, every word in his memory. At least it was better than having nothing, even if she had to deal with a broken heart now. 

"Klaus, you're late for your last class," one of his housemates shouts.

"Thanks, Ben," he replies, grabbing his things hurriedly. 

Ben peeks out from his room "I'll go to the post office. Do you want me to send something to your mum?" 

"There are some letters on my desk," he shouts, heading out the door. 

Ben shook his head. Klaus is very messy. Luckily the letters were where the brunette said.

Eight months, nine days, and twelve hours; that's how long he hasn't seen Klaus. He is not counting, that would be pathetic of him, but at the same time, he can't help but think of his Klaus. 

MIT is everything he has fought for years. His plan is strict, and always said he will sacrifice everything to reach his goals, but he misses Klaus very much.

Klaus was not only his boyfriend but also his best friend; Klaus could listen to him ranting about crazy theories for hours, and sometimes he would add an idea that helped him clear his mind or worsen his confusion. 

Never was bored when Klaus was around because when they got tired of talking, they did other things like playing games, watching movies, walking in the park, kissing, hugging, dancing, or having sex. 

Part of him associates it with his hormones and feelings, and he regrets that agreement of no calls, texts, and emails until they both graduate from university. 

He insisted on that agreement because he wasn't self-confident enough not to be tempted to call Klaus. 

The letter surprises him and makes him laugh as he recognizes Klaus's hasty handwriting.

Who sends letters in this modern world? Nobody but his silly, astute, and beautiful Klaus.

Falling in love with his best friend was his worst idea. Since they knew they would live on different continents, having this little piece of Klaus made him smile for the rest of the day. 

In the dark of night, he sends a text to Klaus. 

It's supposed to be against the rules, but Klaus was the first to break them, so technically, it's not his fault. 

-You're a fool, but I miss you, too -

To anyone else, the text would have sounded aggressive and dismissive, but to Klaus, it was like fresh balm on his wound. He could almost imagine Five smiling sideways, his dimple bulging and his blue eyes sparkling with amusement as he wrote the message. 

The last ten days have been a nightmare: He's barely slept, his teachers have complained about his poor results, he's burned his hand making coffee, and then he mixed up his orders more than three times and almost got fired. And as if that wasn't enough, he almost got run over by a bicycle. 

A lovely week. 

It wasn't Ben's fault but his own for not keeping the letter that was for Five. He told the asian to send the letters to his desk. There was no one to blame but him and his usual stupidity because he should never have written that letter in the first place, nor the others that he carefully kept in his wardrobe. 

But Five sent him a text message, it wasn't as long as his letter where he practically describes how much he misses him, how difficult some of his days were away from his company, and other even more embarrassing things; but that short and almost aggressive message meant two things, one that Five read his letter and two that Five missed him too. 

-You said we can't send texts to each other- he replies, his stomach full of imaginary butterflies. 

-You broke the rules first- is the black haired boy's quick reply.  

-You didn't say anything about letters- he replies more confidently, almost imagining Five rolling his eyes at his sarcastic reply.

-I didn't think it was necessary. No one uses such an expensive and ancient method- 

-You loved it, admit it-

-Never- 

They spend the next two hours exchanging messages. For Klaus, it's very early, and he's barely slept, but he goes to work with a big smile, even if it's pouring rain in the city of love. 

For Five, it is very late, and he spends the rest of the night thinking about Klaus, his rotating contract, and how he misses his boyfriend, but when he wakes up, there is a message from Klaus wishing him a good day, and he attends his first class of the morning without his usual bad mood. 

They spent the next three months writing to each other. Klaus still sent his letters, but Five always used his phone to talk to the brunette. Slowly their talks become more pleasant, friendly, and affectionate. Talking about their days, new friends, their cities and the curiosities they have learned, and their classes and teachers. 

But Five has had a bad day. He's never been good at working in a team, is not used to it, and has trouble getting his classmates to understand his ramblings and instructions. It also doesn't help that most of his classmates have the IQ of a chimpanzee. 

He doesn't even realize he's called Klaus until he hears the brunette's voice asking him to take a deep breath and tell him what Newton's laws of physics are. After five minutes of deep breaths, he can start listing Newton's laws. When he says the last one, he is breathing normally and can even hear Klaus' breathing and how Klaus is moving around the kitchen, probably practicing some recipes. 

Klaus gives him simple and easy instructions that calm him down enough for Five to start writing down his ideas as he tells them. The brunette makes some interesting, not always correct, but interesting points that make him laugh and forget his bitterness briefly. 

That was one of the reasons why he didn't want him and Klaus to have contact. During their relationship, they were so close and dependent, now neither the stupid letters nor the texts were enough. They were still breaking the rules. And when the phone calls weren't enough? Video calls will follow, and if that eventually isn't enough, what will they do then? 

He falls asleep with Klaus' voice whispering the new recipes he has learned. 

He misses Klaus very much. His voice, laugh, messy curls, bad jokes, warm hugs, and passionate kisses. 

It's been 15 months and a week since he last saw Five. They still write and only call each other when necessary, but they try not to because they've noticed that it's getting harder to hang up, and a call to the other side of the world is not cheap.  

But it's his birthday, and all he wants and wishes is to see Five. They don't have to talk. 

He still wonders if his boyfriend has continued to grow or stayed at his 5'7". Is he still slim or has he built muscle with the workout routine he brags about?

Maybe Five is right and they need to stop this before getting hurt. Wasn't that the whole point of that stupid contract? 

Of course, Five doesn't answer his video call. He feels his heart clench uncomfortably in his chest. Five has been so quiet and elusive the last few months. When Five was being like this, the best thing to do was to give him some space. He knows that, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. 

It hurts a lot. Because it's his birthday and he misses home, his friends, his mum, and his stubborn boyfriend. 

He tries to call again, ignoring the doorbell at home. If Five wants to be stubborn, he can be stubborn too.

His call is ignored. 

"Proud idiot," he curses. 

"That is a poor reception after traveling for ten hours and crossing the Atlantic Ocean."

He almost falls off his bed at the sound of Five's voice. He turns so fast that his neck makes a strange sound, but that doesn't matter because he runs into the arms of his Fivey, as if they were the protagonists of a romantic movie. 

"Idiot," whispers Fivey against his lips. It feels so good that Klaus can declare himself addicted to his boyfriend's lips. 

"I missed you," he replies. "Very much," he kisses him desperately. 

Five responds with the same intensity, letting his kisses convey all his emotions. "You said I'm a proud idiot," he accuses after a moment. 

Klaus can only laugh. Of course, Five would complain otherwise he wouldn't be his beloved and grumpy boyfriend.  

"You're always a proud jerk, but you're MY proud jerk," he assures, noticing that Five has grown a few inches, but Klaus's still taller. However, Five has more developed muscles than him. If he has to be honest, he can't wait to see and touch those muscles underneath the thick coat he's trying to remove while still kissing the black-haired man. 

"And you're my favorite rule breaker," is Five's reply, and he pushes Klaus back against the bed before climbing on top of the brunette, who was waiting for him with his legs spread wide.

They both sigh at the sudden contact, a mixture of anxiety and need that makes them touch each other shamelessly over their clothes. The semi-transparent top Klaus is wearing looks lovely on the brunette, but it gets in Five's way, so without any regret, he tears the clothing, throwing it away. 

Klaus should be outraged, this had been his favorite top, but Five's lips against his neck and those nimble fingers playing with his nipples felt so good that he couldn't even complain about what happened. Besides, watching Five being so rough is hot. 

Five had always been known for being an intelligent, pragmatic, proud, and arrogant teenager, but he never enjoyed things being rushed and rough. He liked to take his time with Klaus. Sure, there were times when hormones made them act impulsively, but they had never been rough with each other. Passion would be the best way to describe them. But as Five takes off his clothes, Klaus notices the desperation and awkwardness in their movements. 

It's as if kissing and touching aren't enough to quell their desire, but it's a good start. 

Klaus' hands run down Five's chest before wrapping around his neck, pulling their naked bodies as close together as possible. He's not sure at what point Five and him were able to undress, but he doesn't care to know; instead, he enjoys the electrifying contact, so simple but hardly innocent, as they kiss. Too hungry and needy, teeth clashing roughly as their tongues seem to have a sensual dance with each other.  

Five places his hands on Klaus' waist and slowly lowers one of them until he can touch Klaus' ass, while his other hand moves up to rest on those lovely curls. 

He kisses his brunette with all that pent-up desire he's been holding back for the past 15 months and his control snaps.

"I want you," he admits, abandoning Klaus' lips so he can bite one of his shoulders. Enjoying the quiet moans of the brunette tries to hold back. 

Five's left hand, his dominant hand, massages Klaus's cock, slowly stroking, first gently touching the edges of the glans, before beginning to move up and down the length, up and down, so slow and torturously that in less than a minute, his Klau is meowing like a kitten. Begging for more.

"Il mio dolce gattino (My sweet kitten)" murmurs, refusing to take his eyes off Klaus's pleasuring gestures. 

"Donne-moi plus, bébé. J'ai besoin de toi (Give me more, baby. I need you)" Klaus doesn't even realize he has started speaking French.

"Mi fai una domanda così carina. Come potrei negarmi il mio amato gattino? (You beg so cutely. How could I deny my beloved kitty?)" Five enjoys watching Klaus succumb to his caresses and words, even when they are barely a whisper. "Turn around," he commands. 

It is gratifying to see how Klaus' body reacts to his command. As soon as he releases Klaus, the brunette kneels on the bed, arching his back and raising his hips just enough for Five to use him as he pleases. 

Five wishes he could say he's not tired. 

Klaus has to cling to the sheets as he feels the cold fluid trickle down his legs and shivering thighs. It's been far too long since they had sex, and if he has to be honest, he isn't sure he to be able to tolerate all of the emotions that are running through him. His cock is dripping with pre-seminal fluid, and he doesn't know if he'll be able to take much more. 

"Fivey tries to warn when he feels Five's hand stroking his cock again.

But he is surprised when he feels his boyfriend's warmth on his back and feels him using his lubricated thighs to pleasure himself. The idea is too exciting and obscene, and Klaus doesn't hesitate when he tries to squeeze his thighs around Five's hardness. 

The sound their bodies make when they meet, the way Five touches his cock or kisses him and marks his neck, have him desperate enough, begging for more. Harder. Faster. Simply more. 

"Ti amo gattino (I love you kitty)" declares Five feelings so close to climax, overtaken by his feelings and pleasure. 

"Je t'aime (I love you)" he admits, lost in pleasure "Tu m'as manqué, beaucoup (I missed you, so much)" he cries as he clings to the sheets.

"Non ti lascerò andare via di nuovo (I'm not going to let you go again)" he promises as if that promise was all they needed to come, shouting each other's names. 

They are still hidden under the covers of Klaus's bed, clinging to each other, recovering from their orgasm. Maybe they'd have to go out, grab a bite to eat, and apologize to Klaus' friends for interrupting the brunette's birthday party. But they were both too comfortable to move. 

"I'm so happy you came," comments Klaus, playing with Five's fingers. "It's the best birthday gift you've ever given me," he says excitedly.

Five laughs. "I thought Mr. Oswald was the best gift," 

"It was. Now, this is the best." 

"Too bad, I was going to give you another surprise" 

Those words arouse Klaus' curiosity. "Another surprise?" he asks, clinging to him.

"Yes, I thought you would like to know that I am going to spend the next semester here at the Université Pierre et Marie Curie" Klaus kisses him excitedly, and Five answers that kiss with the same enthusiasm but more slowly and lovingly. 

Five has not given up on his goals, only now they include keeping Klaus among them. 

Chapter Text

I dedicate this to my dear Riry. Happy birthday, dear friend. I hope you like this modest gift. You deserve much more. I'm sorry for the delay. I've written this story about five times and changed the ending countless times because I wanted it to be perfect for you. 

Special thanks to NightP79 for the help and ideas he gave me.

His family is worried, especially Viktor and Lila. Both have begun to distrust his isolation and on more than one occasion, he has had to hide his notes from Lila, Viktor, or Diego so that they do not discover that he plans to create the Commission every time they visit him unexpectedly. 

A small part of him, accompanied by Dolores' voice, is grateful to his family, but another part wants his loved one back and to be left alone to work. 

Usually, Lila, Diego, or Viktor visit him every three or four days, but it has only been one day since he has seen his siblings, and apparently, they have returned, and it couldn't have been at the worst time. 

Having spent the last six weeks cooped up in his home, working tirelessly to try to create the Commission, he has finally made some headway with his calculations. No one told him it would be easy or quick, nor does he know how long it took his old version to create the Commission, but he finally has a prototype Briefcase that hasn't exploded.

He doesn't want to be rude; all he wants is to be left alone to work. He needs to create the Commission so he can get his Klaus back. 

But when he opens the door, the last person he expects to see is Klaus. 

"...Klaus" is so strange to see the man after so many months. He's been making sure the brunette is okay, going to the doctor and getting home safely after work, but this is the first time they've seen each other face to face after Klaus told him he wanted to live with Ben. 

"Sorry to come unannounced, but Viktor has been worried about you," the brunette comments, seeming nervous.

Of course, Viktor would go and tell Klaus. 

"I'm fine" he's not sure what he should say. Never been good with words and never needed to say much for Klaus to understand. But this Klaus, a Klaus with no memory of their life together, doesn't understand.

The silence feels awkward. 

"I brought you food," he says after a moment, showing him the red container in his hands. "Viktor said you're not eating well."

He is going to kill his brother. 

"Thank you" he takes the container carefully. "Do you want to come in and have a drink?" he asks, knowing Klaus will tell him no; the brunette hasn't wanted to see him in the months that they were apart. 

But to his surprise, Klaus smiles shyly. "I'd love to."

He lets Klaus into their home, the home they both chose and decorated to their liking. Only now, it looks very messy, and cleanliness and organization are not a priority in his life. 

"Wow, a lot has changed," mentions Klaus.

"Let's go to the kitchen: it's cleaner" maybe Viktor is right and needs to clean his house a bit more. "I only have coffee and juice" he also needs to do the grocery shopping: he has been living on coffee, peanut butter sandwich, and food that his siblings bring him. 

"Coffee sounds good," the brunette agrees. His Klaus hated coffee, always preferring sweet drinks like hot chocolate or some infusion to which he added a lot of sugar. But this Klaus loves coffee and drinks it as if it were his elixir of life. 

Neither of them says anything while drinking the coffee, but Five allows himself to admire the beauty of his brunette. 

"You let your hair grow out," he comments as he notices the long brunette curls. "And you cut your beard" not that Klaus had much facial hair, but now he had none, which made him look younger. 

"Yes, I like it better this way." 

"It looks good on you," he agrees somewhat wistfully. 

"Are you growing your beard and hair?" There's a genuine interest in his appearance, and he'd like to say it was for his pleasure, but it's not, just had other more important things to do than take care of his appearance. Besides, there's no one to impress, so he doesn't take care of himself either. 

"Something like that" lies so as not to be ashamed. 

Silence reigns again in the kitchen, and for Five it is so difficult and painful; their home used to be full of life, with soft music echoing in the living room while Klaus cooked for both of them or the family when they gathered to plan the attack against Reginald. Now they are two strangers. The love of his life is by his side but he is not his Klaus, and he doesn't know what to do or say.

"I have to go back. I told Ben I'd go for coffee." 

Hearing Ben's name causes him discomfort. Number Two is not to blame for sounding like Number Six, nor that Klaus is comfortable with him. That doesn't stop him from feeling anger when Klaus mentions him affectionately. Only Dolores' imaginary voice keeps him from cursing in front of the brunette. 

"Thanks for the food. I'll tell Viktor to get the container for you." 

Klaus smiles as he climbs into the car that he is pretty sure belongs to Number Two. Everything in that expensive sports car screams that it belongs to Sparrow. "It's okay, enjoy the pasta with meatballs. I know it's your favorite."

Oh yes, Italian food has always been his favorite food, especially the one Klaus used to prepare. He smiles as he tastes the pasta. It's just like the one Klaus used to prepare for him, not too sour, salty, or sweet, but just the perfect seasoning, just the way he likes it. 

He finishes all the pasta before realizing that he never told Klaus this was his favorite food or how he liked it, but Klaus had made it to perfection...Was Klaus getting his memories back?

Ben is waiting for him when he arrives at the apartment they share. He has a neutral expression, but Klaus knows his brother well enough to know he's worried. 

"Where were you?" Is the first thing Ben asks, sounding like a jealous boyfriend.

"Honey, I just went for coffee." 

Ben looks at him upset. "The car has a GPS. You went to see him." 

He feigns surprise. "How toxic!" He exclaims. "Viktor was worried about him!" 

Ben sighs as if he's used to his nonsense. "I don't want you to be hurt and then come crying and stain my shirts with your eyeliner." 

His brother walks away, muttering about the shirts he has ruined. It always amuses him how Ben tries to hide his feelings with a rough and tough exterior but is adorable and protective. In these chaotic months: his brother, who is not his brother, has been his anchor. 

Waking up from a long sleep and not knowing anything except his name and a few details like Ben used to be his brother has not been easy. He never wanted to be a burden to Ben, but Ben was all he could remember, and despite everything, Number Two welcomed him with open arms, not judging him and not expecting anything from him when he didn't know where to go. 

Not that he didn't try to get his memory back, it was what he wanted most, but his mind was blank: there was nothing. 

He tried to be like the Klaus that Umbrella and Five wanted him to be, but it didn't work. He always said or did something that wasn't typical of his past self, and it was painful to see the disappointment, sadness, and annoyance of those who claimed to be his family. Seeing them suffer like that just made me want to run away. 

Ben seemed to be the only one who didn't expect anything from him, compare him to his past self, or get upset when he did "atypical" things. 

In Ben, he found a brother, a friend, and a family. He supposes it's because Ben has also felt that way when the Umbrellas compare him to his Ben. 

It's painful when you're not what other people expect, and they don't even give you a chance to know yourself. 

Although he's been remembering little details, Klaus didn't even know who he was. He only knew little things, like his name was Klaus Hargreeves, the number four was his favorite, Ben isn't his brother, but he is. He has powers, likes to cook, read and knit, and he's in love with Five Hargreeves. 

Viktor looks at him with something akin to pity. He hates that look. He doesn't need the pity his siblings have for him. He wants answers. 

How did Klaus even know how he liked his food? Was there even hope that he would remember who he was? 

"It's been a year, and as far as I know, the doctor doesn't give much hope for Klaus to regain his memory" Viktor's tone is soft but firm. 

"He said he knew what my favorite food was."

"Maybe you mentioned it to him." 

"I didn't. It tasted the same, Viktor" He's not crazy, he tells himself as he walks around the room, trying to sort through the clutter. He needs to keep busy somehow.

Viktor remains silent for a few moments. "Well, it's Klaus. Klaus didn't die, only doesn't have his memory," he muses, and Five stops to listen to him. "All this time, we've been acting like Klaus is dead, but Klaus is alive." 

"What do you mean?" he asks, trying to make sense of his brother's words. 

Viktor looks shy. "I was talking to Ben," he reports. "I was worried, so I went to talk to him. They're not dating as we thought." 

Oh, he always thought Ben and Klaus were more than friends. Why would Klaus go to live with Ben if he didn't feel anything for Number Two? 

"Are you sure?" he questions. 

Viktor nods his head. "Apparently, the reason that Klaus moved away was that he felt not enough." 

What, not enough? Is that some joke from Number Two? 

"At first, I didn't understand what Ben was referring to, but I've been thinking, and I could figure it out. We were always lamenting Klaus losing his memory and constantly trying to get him to remember." 

That's right. The whole family had pulled together so Klaus could be his old self again. They took him to his favorite places, gave him his favorite food, talked about what they used to do before the attack, and continually hoped for a miracle so Klaus could be Klaus again. What's wrong with that? 

"I think that Klaus was exhausted from being compared. We never asked him what he wanted or how he felt. We just wanted Klaus back, like we want Two to be Ben, and we never gave him a chance to know them" Viktor looks exhausted and guilty.

Oh. 

Now he feels like a jerk. 

Ben has gone on an undercover assignment, and he won't be back for a few days, and although he has Mr. Oswald's company, the apartment feels lonely and cold. Maybe because the winter season is only a few weeks away and the weather in the city has dropped too low. Maybe, it's the ghosts, but since Ben left, he has felt restless. Viktor has offered to keep him company, but he doesn't want to disturb him, knowing that a concert is coming up, and he doesn't want his brother to be distracted. 

Even he has preferred to take double turns at the coffee shop, helping Agnes until closing time, baking as much as possible, and spending time with frequent customers and his kind boss. But he can't avoid his lonely home forever, Oswald needs him, and he promised Ben to take care of himself and stay home, so he spends his time knitting, reading, and cooking to entertain his mind and keep his mind off a blue-eyed man. 

But it's hard not to think about Five, especially since he has noticed him looking haggard. Although the beard is an attractive addition thinks as he blushes. 

He may not remember his life with Five, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care about him. Five had cared for him for over three months, always attentive to his needs, and Five had even been the first person he saw when he woke up in the hospital. 

At the time, Klaus had thought Five was beautiful. A year later, he still feels the same way. Only Five's heart had an owner and wasn't exactly him. 

Oswald meows, distracting his mind from Five. 

"Do you want to eat?" He asks the feline, who moves gracefully to his food bowl, to look at him expectantly and angrily because Klaus is taking so long. 

He laughs at his cat's temper. He is so amused watching Oswald that he is surprised when someone knocks on his door. 

He's not expecting anyone, and Ben will be there another two days before he gets back, but when he opens the door, he doesn't expect to see Five. 

"Five" smiles as he sees the man. He looks a little more groomed, even noticing that he has cut his hair. 

"Hi," he greets. "I was just nearby," comments. "Can I come in?" asks nervously.

"Sure, I have coffee. Do you like some?" He offers enthusiastically, leading Five into the small living room with armchairs. 

"Sure," he accepts, never turning down a good cup of coffee.

Five looks around, noting with some nostalgia the dark-colored knitting. The old Klaus loved to knit even though he wasn't very good at it, always getting tangled in the wool. For how advanced the weaving was, Klaus got much better. 

"I'm not sure if you like it, but I brought you some carrot cake." 

"Thank you" the cake looks delicious and is his favorite. He doesn't like sweet things, but carrot cake with icing is his favorite. Klaus would make it for him all the time.

Klaus is a little surprised, a lot, that Five is in his house. It makes him a little nervous and anxious. Especially since Five doesn't say anything but eats quietly. 

"How have you been?" he asks, trying to break the silence. Klaus hates awkward silences. 

Five looks at him. "How did you know I liked pasta?" asks, ignoring Klaus' question. 

"Oh, I guessed from how you enjoyed pasta when we went to dinner at the Italian restaurant." 

"Oh," he said. "For a moment, I thought..." Murmurs

Klaus' heart aches. "You thought I had regained my memory?" 

"Yes," he states with sadness. 

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "The doctor is hopeless, it's been a year, and there are no behind effects," he repeats his doctor's words from memory. "I'm sorry I can't be him. I've tried, I want to be him, but I don't know how to be him." 

"No. Don't apologize. I'm glad you're alive," remembering what Viktor told him. "I'm the one who should apologize to you" Klaus looks surprised. "All this time, we've been making you feel bad, haven't we?" 

"I understand that you want the other Klaus back." 

"But you're here. You're that Klaus, just without your memory." 

Klaus smiles. "I don't quite know who I am yet."  

"Take it easy. Sometimes I'm also not sure who I am or if I deserve this life" it sounds ironic, but sometimes he's not sure he deserves this peaceful life. "I'm sorry you felt compelled to be someone else. I shouldn't have forced you to stay with me or told you we were getting married." 

Klaus blushes. "I didn't dislike being with you, I liked waking up next to you, and I liked the idea that we were going to get married" Five looked at him in surprise. "But it hurt me to see you so heartbroken when I did something that wasn't typical of my past version." 

Five is surprised to hear that from Klaus and, at the same time, feels like an idiot.

His centenarian version had a point when he said they weren't the most intelligent people. "I'm an idiot," he assures. "I'm so sorry, Klaus," He mutters with a lump in his throat. 

His Klaus has been suffering for so long. Just because of his stupidity. Instead of being grateful that Klaus was alive, he focused on only what he had lost. He could have created new memories, fallen in love with Klaus again, and made Klaus fall in love with him, but no, he determined that he wanted the old Klaus at any cost, and he became obsessed and let the guilt blind him.

"You should have loved me very much," Klaus comments, taking his hands. He clings to those familiar hands, wishing he could kiss them. But Klaus lets go of his hands before he can. 

Klaus never changed his essence or his character. He had only acquired new habits and created new memories. Memories where he didn't exist because he was too busy trying to regain something he had never lost. 

"Always," he confesses: he's still in love, and by the way, Klaus blushes maybe, it's not too late for them. "How about we start over?" he proposes as he stretches up his hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Five Hargreeves." 

Klaus smiles and returns the greeting. "Nice to meet you. I'm Klaus Hargreeves." 

"Nice to meet you, Klaus," brings Klaus' hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles, getting the brunette to blush. He's beginning to like this side of Klaus. 

It's a new beginning for them, and this time, Five isn't willing to let the ghosts of his past ruin their happiness. 

It takes a while to get to know and adjust to each other. And it takes longer to fall in love with each other again. For a moment, a very naïve moment, Five thought Klaus and him would get back together right away, but that was not the case. 

Klaus made it clear that he was not a replacement and would not accept being one. So at first, they were just friends. It took more than four months before Klaus agreed to go on a date with him.

He must admit that this courtship process confused him. They did not have a period of courtship and dating before they became lovers and then a couple until they became engaged. They could have skipped several steps in the past, but they had known each other as children, and although they had spent a long time apart, that desire and love had survived hidden behind death, ghosts, drugs, other lovers, and time travel. Not that they had much time for dating or courtship when they were constantly trying to save the world.

Nevertheless, Five finds that he falls in love with every new facet of Klaus. Klaus may have no memory, but he is still Klaus, and Five is sure that he loves the brunette in every timeline and universe in existence. 

Their first kiss happened a year and a half after the incident, and it's amazing, maybe because it was Klaus who started the kiss, and at first, that kiss took him by surprise. He wasn't expecting that demonstration of affection, but he didn't take long to reciprocate and kiss Klaus almost as if he were a hungry and desperate man, clinging to the brunette's slender waist while trying to bring their bodies as close together as possible.

The lack of air causes them to pull apart, but only for a moment. 

"Not bad for a first kiss, eh?" comments the brunette with a flirtatious smile.

"We should go for the second one to see if it's as good as the first," he comments before kissing the brunette, forgetting that this isn't their first or second kiss but it feels like it is because of the way they both cling to each other nervously, a little anxious yet desperate as they seek to explore each other's mouth until the door to Klaus' apartment suddenly opens, almost making them fall.

"Could you guys not do that at the door? It's disgusting," is Ben's comment, who looks at them angrily.

Five has to bite his tongue to keep from making some snide remark. Klaus may adore Ben like a brother, but his feelings for Number Two haven't changed. Sparrow Ben is an idiot. 

"You're just jealous," Klaus says and has to hide his smile on the brunette's neck as he sees the disgust on Ben's face. 

"Jealous? You look like the Kissing Gourami," mentions Ben. "At least get a room."

"That's a good idea, Ben. We'll be in my room, wear earplugs for your ears" Klaus doesn't even wait for a reply as he drags him towards his room. 

They both start laughing when they hear Number Two curse and leave the apartment. It's always fun to mess with Two. 

Although when they both stop laughing, there is some tension between them. 

"So...which was better, the first or the second kiss?" is the first thing that comes to his mind to say. He's never been good at this kind of situation. 

"I think I need another demonstration to decide." 

That's all Five needs to kiss Klaus again, but this time more affectionately and passionately. They do nothing but kiss and sleep in the same bed, but Five discovers that he doesn't need anything else to sleep peacefully and without nightmares.

Five looks at his investigation: creating the Commission could save the world, keep it running, and stop anything wrong from happening. However, he has learned his lesson: no matter how hard he tries or how brilliant or powerful, he cannot prevent or stop all the catastrophes and mistakes in the world.

Not even Reginald could stop Abigail's death. No matter how much his father was willing to sacrifice and restart the universe, Abigail ended up dying, over and over again, in an endless cycle that his father refused to accept.

Klaus had once mentioned that death is inevitable. Back then, he believed that he could find a way to evade death. But the truth is that the world has to end at some point, humanity will perish, and all life will die; it's only a matter of time. 

He can't stop that. 

So he burns all his investigation and feels at peace to let go of that self-imposed responsibility. 

He doesn't have to be a hero. He has to live his life. Even if there are unexpected or painful things, he has to learn to live with them. 

Two and a half years ago, the love of his life forgot him, and today they are celebrating their first dating anniversary. He has to admit that it is fascinating how he has fallen in love with the same person three times, at different times in his life and events but with the same passion and dedication. 

"There you are" Klaus walks over to him and immediately opens his arms for him to sit on his lap. "The bed feels empty without you," he hugs him. 

Five has to smile as he sees how his jersey barely covers Klaus' thighs. "I'm sorry, but I didn't mean to wake you up after last night. You looked so tired" his smile widens as he notices the marks on Klaus' neck.

"You left me exhausted," admits the brunette. "Is this a taste of what's in store for me when we get married?" 

He kisses his fiancé's knuckles, noting with pride how his beloved wears the diamond ring he gave him last night when he proposed.

" Yes, it is, but if you have any doubts, I can give you another demonstration," he promises as he kisses the markings on his fiancé's neck.

"Oh, I think I'll take your offer. I need to be sure." Klaus accepts, wrapping his arms around Five's neck.

"Whatever you command, future Mr. Hargreeves." And they both disappear, leaving Five's investigation to be consumed by the flames. 

After all, neither this world nor they will need the Commission. 

Chapter Text

It's their first birthday together after so long, and Klaus is looking forward to doing something special. Five has struggled to adapt to this new world and body. It hasn't been easy for his boyfriend: he not only had a growth spurt that left him with a sore body but a loss of powers, which left Five in a vulnerable and moody state. 

This new life is peaceful and mundane, there is no Umbrella Academy or Sparrow. His father practically owns the world, and his wife is still alive.

Who knew that all his father longed for was his wife?

A small part of him could understand his father; if there were a way to get Ben, Dave, or his mother back, he would take it without question. That didn't justify what Reginald did, but he understood. 

The money Reginald had provided them as compensation for what had happened at the hotel also helped them. 

Diego and Lila had been able to buy a small house in the suburbs where they are raising their daughter, Grace. Luther continued to search for Sloane along with Viktor, and Ben had moved to Korea. Unfortunately, Allison refused to talk to them after the last fight, but Klaus was glad that his sister had managed to get her daughter and husband back. 

He was even grateful to her and Reginald for this new chance at a life without his powers, normal.

Diego and Lila were detectives, Viktor and Luther did odd jobs while traveling, Ben was the CEO of one of Reginald's companies, Five was a physics professor at his father's university, and he worked at Agnes' bakery. 

Without the ghosts bothering him and his body free of substances, he had returned to painting: He is happy.

Dinner was almost ready, and Five would be home from work soon. He would have liked to party with all his siblings, but his family is busy, so it will just be the two of them, and as if he had summoned him, Five arrives home on time.

Number Five looks surprised, but a small smile lights up his adult face, and despite waking up next to him, Klaus still can't get used to his handsomeness. Five is gorgeous, especially when he smiles.

"I guess we're celebrating something," Five mentions, before kissing him, it's a chaste and affectionate kiss, but Klaus has become addicted to them. 

"Yes, it's our birthday," he said enthusiastically.

Five can't help but feel surprised; He hasn't forgotten that today was their birthday, he had even bought a gift for Klaus, but he is amazed at how his beloved has gone out of his way to cook his favorite dishes. There is even a small cake. 

The last time that he celebrated his birthday was when he was thirteen years old. During his stay in the apocalypse, his mind focused on surviving and saving his family. The same thing happened during his time at the Commission. But here, after 46 years, he has the chance to celebrate his birthday with his beloved again. 

And he is so stunned and touched that the only thing he can do is pull Klaus in and kiss him. 

The passionate kiss surprises Klaus, but the brunette clings to Five's shoulders, pulling their bodies as close together as possible, letting Five explore his mouth while his long fingers curl into Five's hair. 

"I'm not complaining, and don't take this as a denial or criticism of your kisses, but I spent hours cooking," he moans when Five abandons his lips to kiss his neck.

"It would be a shame," agrees Five, and with one last kiss, right on Klaus' pulse, they part a little reluctantly. 

It's a simple meal, but they enjoy it in silence, sharing flirtatious, longing glances as their feet touch under the table. Eager to get to the bedroom and have another kind of celebration. 

As Klaus lights the candles on the small cake, Five feels nostalgic. Remembering the cake his mother baked for them all, the gifts from Pogo, and the day off from activities. They took advantage of this to play and be normal kids. He even remembers the first kiss he gave Klaus on their 13th birthday. 

"Make a wish," asks Klaus, looking excited.

A wish? There's not much he wishes for, not when it's the first time in years he's with his family, with Klaus, and while this world isn't perfect and they've lost their powers, this life isn't so bad. He has a home, his family is alive, and they don't have to worry about stopping an impending apocalypse. It isn't perfect, but he's happy, especially now he's with Klaus. 

He pretends to make a wish before blowing out the candles. To please Klaus, who seems excited. With his beautiful green eyes looking at him excitedly.  

"What did you wish for?" asks Klaus

"That underneath that beautiful dress, you're wearing the lingerie I like," he replies flirtatiously, not daring to break Klaus' illusions. 

Klaus laughs. Usually, Five wouldn't make that kind of comment outside of bed, but they both seem eager for other kinds of activities. 

"I think I can make your wish come true," is his flirtatious and naughty reply, luring his lover by the tie.

"Really, should I be sure?" Five's hands circle Klaus' tiny waist, caressing him over the delicate textile. 

Klaus has kissed many people, he did a lot more than a kiss, and it's not something he's proud of but not completely ashamed of either. Drugs, his traumas, and his need to be loved and survive have made him do things he's not entirely proud of.,

But kissing Five has always been a revelation, special and unique. Five kisses him as if Klaus is something precious and valuable, but, simultaneously, as if he wants to possess and devour him. It is so overwhelming that all he can do is reciprocate with the same intensity as they try to get to his room.

This is their first birthday after many years, and it is special because it is the first time they have everything they want: A home, a family that continues to grow but most of all, they are together. 

Chapter Text

"One more for luck," his husband whispers against his cheek, and he can only cling to Klaus' waist, allowing the brunette to do whatever he wants to him, even though he knows he'll regret it when he gets to work.

Over the past two weeks, Klaus has decided that he needs a protection spell for some reason, and it wouldn't have been a problem if his lover didn't like wearing red lipstick so much.

As he arrives at the Ministry, he sees the amused grimaces on the faces of Diego and Luther. Viktor looks at him with a mixture of uncertainty and annoyance. For a moment he makes a gesture as if to wipe his scarred cheek, but then he remembers that Klaus' lipsticks are magical and won't come off unless he does it with magic. Besides, he can already imagine the wizard's displeased face if he doesn't have the protective spell on his cheek when he returns home.

The witches around him look a little disappointed as they avert their eyes and quickly turn away from him. To be honest, he doesn't understand the disappointment. It is no secret to anyone that he has been married to Klaus for over ten years. But these women keep trying to get his attention. At least having Klaus mark him in this way has its advantages, although sometimes he wishes Klaus would be more discreet about the places he chooses to place his spells.

" Nice color, Five," Diego can't keep his mouth shut, even though he knows he's his superior.

"Oppugno," he curses, and birds attack his two stupid brothers as he returns to his office, accompanied

by Viktor.

"It's been a while, but I'm back with some short stories to break my writer's block. You can place your order."

Chapter Text

It was not his intention to end up like this; he did not even know that vampires existed. Yet somehow he found himself in the midst of a group of them, and apparently, he became the leader's new obsession. He can imagine the annoyance of his siblings when they realize that he has been kidnapped once again as if he were a docile maiden.

The irony of the situation, or perhaps life and karma playing tricks on him, was that the vampire decided to dress him in a fancy red dress to introduce him as his new lover. Even the other vampires were dressed as if they were at a masked ball from the last century. It was so clichéd that, were he not in such an awkward position, he would have protested at the absurdity of the situation. 

Although he was aware of what was going on around him, he could not move freely. His body simply reacted to the creepy vampire's touch as if he were a mannequin or, worse, a sex doll. Not that he minded, but he would a thousand times rather be Ben than some creature older than his father.

"We make a lovely couple," the man said in a heavy accent that annoyed him. But he couldn't help but look into the old mirror, which only reflected his figure, only his own. Vampires can't see themselves in mirrors, or so he'd read. 

"Sorry... I prefer those with a more Asian look," he murmured, wishing the man would stop touching him as if he belonged to him.

The vampire chuckled as he turned him around. "Ah, the tentacle boy," he murmured thoughtfully. "He doesn't seem too dangerous."

He felt indignant. Despite his calm and peaceful appearance, his boyfriend was powerful enough, and not just because of the creatures that lived in his stomach. But any indignant retort was forgotten when he saw the gleam of the man's fangs approaching his neck with agonizing slowness. He looked around for something or someone to help him. As appealing as it sounded to be young forever, he'd rather live a quiet life with his friend.

He saw the tentacle before it ripped mercilessly through the vampire holding him, and then chaos broke out. Knives flew through the air, tentacles snapped necks, vampires were thrown against walls and fire erupted everywhere.

"You said you were going to a masquerade ball, but I thought we were going together," Ben said with some annoyance as he managed to pull him out of the chaos.

"I don't want to go to any more fancy dress balls," he protested, glaring at his boyfriend who, despite his obvious anger and concern, looked rather amused.

"Too bad, you look good in that dress," Ben said with a flirtatious grin. Although Ben's smile wasn't supposed to make him feel under a spell, Six's hands clinging to his waist were the only thing that seemed to support his exhausted body.

"I look better without it," he replied, flirting with Ben even as vampires were being torn apart by angry tentacles all around him.

"Would you two stop flirting for five minutes," Allison interrupted in an annoyed voice. "There are still vampires to kill," she reminded them in a tone that made them think of their mother.

Klaus could have argued that she and Luther were worse than they were, but before he could protest, Ben kissed his cheek in a loving, chaste way, though the words he whispered were anything but pure.

"Keep the mask on, we can still have our dance," Ben whispered suggestively. Frankly, it's the only dance Klaus hopes to attend for a long, long time.

Chapter Text

The world had been rebuilt with the delicacy of someone assembling a puzzle after a hurricane, but the cracks were still there, pulsing beneath the surface like a heartbeat that refused to settle into a normal rhythm. In this new reality, Klaus Hargreeves remained the brother who floated through life with broken smiles and jokes that cut through the air like ground glass, except now the voices in his head had returned after months of blessed silence—and with them, a hyperawareness that made his skin feel too tight, his senses too sharp.

He had died—really died—when Reginald pushed him toward the Kugelblitz, and in those moments between existence and void, he had learned things about himself that he wasn't ready to share with anyone. The experience had left him with something different in his eyes, a depth that seemed to hold entire conversations with the unseen, a knowing that went beyond his usual communion with the dead.

Five observed him from his new perspective of twenty-five years, with blue eyes that had seen too much and hands that trembled slightly when he thought no one was looking—a remnant of decades spent manipulating time itself. But lately, Five found himself trembling for entirely different reasons. Klaus retained that feline grace and that laugh that sounded like broken bells, but there was something more now. Something that made Five's chest tighten in ways he didn't understand, made his pulse quicken when Klaus's lips shaped unfamiliar words in languages that sounded like poetry even when discussing mundane household matters.

Five had always prided himself on his intellectual superiority—he spoke Swedish fluently from his time with the Commission, had mastered Greek during his years in the apocalypse studying ancient texts, and had learned Italian during a particularly tedious assignment in Renaissance Florence. Languages had always been tools to him, means to an end, keys to unlock information he needed.

But watching Klaus speak was entirely different. When foreign words flowed from Klaus's mouth, they sounded like music, like secrets whispered in the dark, like promises Five desperately wanted to understand. It was destroying his carefully maintained emotional equilibrium in ways that terrified and thrilled him in equal measure.

**

The first crack in Klaus's carefully maintained facade appeared the morning after Five had spent the night staring at his ceiling, trying to rationalize away the way his heart had stuttered when Klaus had answered the phone in what sounded like flawless Mandarin, his voice taking on different tonal qualities that had made Five forget how to breathe properly.

Five had been heading to the kitchen for coffee when he'd found Klaus standing in the main hallway, perfectly motionless, head tilted at an angle that suggested intense concentration. In the autumn light streaming through the Academy's windows, Klaus looked ethereal—almost translucent, as if he were caught between worlds.

"Klaus?" Five had called softly, not wanting to startle him.

Klaus had turned, and for just a second, his eyes had held a sharpness that Five had never seen before—alert, calculating, completely present in a way that contradicted every assumption their family had ever made about him. Then the familiar hazy smile had slipped back into place, but not before Five had caught a glimpse of something that made his brain go quiet with want.

"Morgon, Fivey," Klaus had said, and Five's Swedish was good enough to recognize the greeting, but Klaus's pronunciation was perfect—no, beyond perfect. It carried the subtle regional variations that spoke of extensive conversation with native speakers. "Mrs. Henderson har mycket starka åsikter om våra frukostval."

Five had stared, his mouth going dry. Klaus was complaining about Mrs. Henderson's opinions on their breakfast choices, but the easy way the Swedish flowed from his lips, the casual competence in his grammar and syntax, made something primal and hungry uncoil in Five's chest.

"Since when do you speak Swedish?" Five had managed, his voice rougher than intended.

Klaus had shrugged, but Five caught the way his fingers had fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt—a nervous habit Five was beginning to catalog with the intensity of someone studying a complex mathematical theorem. "Ghost from Stockholm, very chatty about proper nutrition. Spent six months following me around explaining the superiority of Scandinavian breakfast traditions." Klaus had paused, then added with that careless smile that never quite reached his eyes, "Apparently, American coffee is an abomination that offends the spirits of deceased Swedish baristas."

Five had wanted to press, to ask about the subtle regional accent, about the grammatical constructions that suggested Klaus understood not just vocabulary but the cultural context that shaped how the language was used. Instead, he'd found himself saying, "Your pronunciation is extraordinary."

The compliment had seemed to catch Klaus off guard. A flush had crept up his neck, visible above the collar of his loose shirt, and his eyes had gone wide for just a moment before he'd looked away. Five had watched, fascinated, as Klaus's breathing had changed—shallower, more careful, as if the simple acknowledgment of his competence was somehow dangerous.

"Det är bara tur," Klaus had muttered, already moving toward the stairs. Just luck.

But Five had seen the way Klaus's hands had trembled slightly as he'd walked away, the way he'd bitten his lower lip as if holding back words he didn't trust himself to say. And Five had found himself wondering what other secrets Klaus kept hidden behind his carefully crafted incompetence, what other languages lived behind those green eyes that seemed to hold entire worlds Five had never explored.

The thought had followed him through the day, a persistent ache in his chest that felt dangerously close to longing.


**

The first time Five felt something shift from curiosity to something deeper and more dangerous was during an unexpected training session. Jayme had come to visit—one of the few Sparrows who didn't seem to hold a grudge against the Hargreeves—and had suggested practicing combat to "stay in shape now that the world isn't ending every week."

Klaus had been observing from the Academy's training room benches, apparently absorbed in what looked like a Sanskrit text, when Jayme had made a casual comment about how all the Hargreeves seemed "rusty" after the reset.

"Well, almost all," she had added, looking directly at Klaus with a predatory smile that made Five's protective instincts flare. "How about you, Klaus? Want to try?"

Klaus had looked up from his book, genuinely surprised. "Me? Jayme, I think you're confusing me with someone who knows how to fight."

"Let's see," she had insisted, getting into position. "Just try to not get hit."

Five had been about to intervene—the idea of Jayme potentially hurting Klaus making something protective and possessive flare in his chest—when Klaus had sighed and set his book aside with the careful deliberation of someone making a decision he'd rather not make.

"Fine," Klaus had said, standing with that deceptive casualness that Five was beginning to recognize as Klaus preparing to surprise them all. "But don't blame me when this ends with me on the floor."

What had followed had been the most elegant demonstration of defensive combat Five had ever witnessed, and the most erotically charged ten minutes of his life.

Klaus had moved like water made flesh, flowing around each of Jayme's strikes with a grace that seemed to defy the laws of physics. He hadn't attacked once, hadn't even attempted to counter—he'd simply made himself impossible to touch, his body undulating and swaying in ways that made Five's mouth go completely dry.

Five had watched, hypnotized and increasingly desperate, as Klaus's hips had shifted and rolled with each dodge, his spine arching in impossible curves as he'd bent away from Jayme's attacks. The loose shirt Klaus wore had ridden up during one particularly fluid movement, revealing a strip of pale skin above his hip that had made Five's brain stutter to a complete stop and his body respond in ways that were utterly inappropriate for a training session with his sister present.

Klaus's hands had guided Jayme's strikes away from his body with touches so light they'd barely seemed like contact at all, but Five could see the precise control behind each movement, the way Klaus seemed to understand exactly where each attack was going before it landed. It was mastery disguised as luck, intelligence hidden behind a facade of intuition.

"Jesus Christ," Jayme had panted after ten minutes of fruitless attempts to land even a glancing blow, sweat beading on her forehead and frustration clear in her voice. "How the hell are you doing that?"

Klaus had straightened, immediately shifting back to his usual slightly scattered energy, but Five had caught the moment of satisfaction that had flickered across his features before the mask had slipped back into place. "Years of practice not getting hit by things that want to hurt me," Klaus had said with that self-deprecating smile that never quite convinced anyone who was really paying attention. "Plus I have this very insistent ghost who used to teach tai chi. Very passionate about the concept of 'becoming like water'—redirecting force rather than meeting it head-on."

But Five had seen the way Klaus's breathing had remained perfectly controlled throughout the entire encounter, had noticed the subtle confidence in his movements that spoke of genuine training rather than supernatural luck. This hadn't been desperate dodging—this had been artistry, and watching it had awakened something in Five that felt primitive and hungry and completely beyond his rational control.

"That was..." Five had started, then trailed off as Klaus had turned those bright green eyes on him, suddenly hyperaware that his voice had come out roughly intimate, loaded with implications he wasn't ready to examine.

"Boring?" Klaus had supplied with a grin that had seemed more genuine this time, but Five had caught the way Klaus's pupils had dilated slightly when their eyes met, the way his lips had parted as if he were having trouble breathing normally.

"Beautiful," Five had finished quietly, and had felt electricity crackle between them when Klaus's eyes had widened in surprise and something that looked dangerously like hope.

Jayme had looked between them with an expression of dawning realization, but before she could comment, Klaus had already been moving toward the door with movements that seemed more unsteady than his usual graceful wandering.

"Well, that was fun," Klaus had said with forced lightness, his voice pitched slightly higher than normal, "but I should get back to my very important book about ancient meditation practices that definitely don't have anything to do with combat applications."

Five had watched him leave, cataloging every detail—the way Klaus's shirt clung to his back with a light sheen of sweat, the fluid grace of his walk that now seemed loaded with unconscious sensuality, the way he'd paused for just a moment at the doorway as if he'd wanted to turn back and say something else.

That night, Five had gone to bed with the image of Klaus burned into his retinas—those hips moving with liquid grace, those hands redirecting force with impossible gentleness, the way his spine had curved and arched during each dodge. Five had stared at his bedroom ceiling for hours, trying to analyze rationally why he couldn't stop thinking about the strip of skin he'd glimpsed, about the controlled power in Klaus's movements, about that moment when their eyes had met and something had shifted irrevocably between them.

When he'd finally fallen asleep, he'd dreamed.

**

In the dream, they were back in the training room, but this time they were alone. The space felt different—smaller, more intimate, charged with an electricity that made the air itself seem to pulse with possibility.

Klaus had been moving around him with that same hypnotic grace, but now every dodge was an invitation, every fluid motion a seduction. His green eyes had held a challenge and a promise, and when he'd smiled, it had been pure temptation.

"Can't catch me, Five?" Klaus had laughed, slipping out of reach again, his body swaying in ways that made Five's mouth go dry and his pulse race. "The great prodigy, outmaneuvered by his 'useless' brother?"

Five had lunged forward, but Klaus had spun away, his back brushing against Five's chest for just a moment—long enough for Five to catch that intoxicating scent of sandalwood and cigarettes that always surrounded Klaus, long enough to feel the heat of his body through his thin shirt, long enough for every nerve ending in Five's body to light up like a circuit board.

"Du är för långsam," Klaus had murmured in Swedish, and the familiar language in his perfect accent had made something primal and desperate claw at Five's chest. You're too slow.

"You'll have to be faster than that," Klaus had continued in English, but there had been something in his voice—a breathless quality that suggested he was as affected by their proximity as Five was.

Five had used a micro-blink, appearing directly behind Klaus and pinning him against the mirrored wall with his entire body. Klaus had gasped, but it hadn't been surprise or fear—it had been pure satisfaction, as if this was exactly what he'd been angling for, what he'd been hoping would happen.

"Äntligen," Klaus had breathed in Swedish, and Five had understood the word—finally—but hearing it in Klaus's voice had made his control snap entirely. Klaus had pressed back against him with deliberate intent, his hips finding Five's with a rhythm that had made Five's vision blur at the edges.

Five had buried his face in Klaus's neck, breathing in that intoxicating scent while his hands had found Klaus's hips, guiding that movement that had been driving him crazy since the training session. Klaus had arched against him, making sounds that had been half laughter, half something much more desperate and needy.

"Jag har väntat så länge," Klaus had whispered, and Five had understood—I've been waiting so long—but the Swedish made it sound like a prayer, like a confession that went deeper than mere physical want.

"Is this what you wanted?" Klaus had asked, switching back to English but maintaining that breathless quality that made every word sound like a caress. "To pin down your slippery brother?"

"You're not slippery," Five had growled, pressing his hips forward and feeling Klaus melt against him with a sound that had gone straight to Five's nervous system. "You're perfect. Du är perfekt."

Klaus had turned in his arms then, pressing their mouths together in a kiss that had tasted like desperation and promise and everything Five hadn't known he'd been craving. Their bodies had moved together with increasing urgency, Klaus's hands tangled in Five's hair while Five had mapped every line of Klaus's body through his clothes.

"Five," Klaus had moaned against his mouth, and the sound had traveled through Five's entire nervous system like lightning. "Please, I need—jag behöver dig—I need you."

The mixture of English and Swedish, the way Klaus's voice had broken on the confession, had been more erotic than anything Five had ever experienced. He'd been lost in the sensation of Klaus's body against his, the taste of his mouth, the way Klaus had submitted so completely while still somehow maintaining control of the encounter.

"Säg mitt namn," Klaus had whispered against his ear—say my name—and Five had been about to comply when—

He'd woken up.

Five had woken with his heart hammering so hard he'd been sure it would wake the entire Academy, with the sheets tangled around his legs and his body tight with a need so intense he'd had to bite his fist to keep from making noise. His entire body had been tense, vibrating with a desire he didn't know how to process or satisfy.

He'd remained motionless in the darkness for long minutes, trying to regain control over his breathing, over the erratic beating of his heart, over the way his body had responded to a simple dream. He was Five Hargreeves. He had survived three apocalypses, had traveled through time, had faced the Commission and his father. He was logical, analytical, always in complete control of his emotions and physical reactions.

But something about Klaus—about the way he'd hidden his brilliance behind jokes all his life, about how he moved as if every gesture were choreography, about that smile that promised secrets Five desperately wanted to know, about the way languages flowed from his lips like music—was systematically disrupting all his carefully constructed defense mechanisms.

And the most terrifying thing of all was that Five was beginning to suspect he didn't want it to stop.

**

The days that followed the dream were a special kind of torture. Five found himself hyperaware of every detail of Klaus's existence—the way his lips shaped consonants in different languages, the subtle changes in his posture when he switched linguistic contexts, the unconscious elegance of his movements that Five now knew could be devastatingly graceful when Klaus chose to reveal his true capabilities.

At breakfast, Klaus had answered a phone call in what sounded like flawless French, his voice taking on different rhythms and intonations that made Five's coffee taste like ash in his mouth. Five had watched, mesmerized, as Klaus had paced the kitchen while speaking, his free hand gesturing in ways that seemed to complement the language he was using.

"Oui, je comprends parfaitement," Klaus had said, and even though Five didn't speak French, he could hear the fluency, the ease, the way Klaus navigated complex grammatical structures as if he'd been raised bilingual. "Ce ne sera pas un problème. Nous pouvons arranger ça cet après-midi."

When Klaus had hung up, he'd found Five staring at him with an expression that must have been transparently hungry because Klaus had flushed and looked away immediately.

"Wrong number," Klaus had mumbled, but Five had heard enough to know that wasn't true. Klaus had been making arrangements, handling some kind of business with the competence of someone who regularly conducted affairs in multiple languages.

"Klaus," Five had said, his voice coming out lower than intended, "who was that?"

Klaus had shrugged, but the gesture had been too casual, too studied. "Just... someone from before. Nothing important."

But Five had seen the way Klaus's hands had trembled slightly as he'd poured himself coffee, had noticed the careful way Klaus had avoided his gaze for the rest of the morning. And Five had found himself wondering what other aspects of Klaus's life remained hidden, what other competencies he kept locked away behind his facade of beautiful uselessness.

**

The opportunity for Klaus to prove his true worth came when they least expected it. A simple intelligence gathering operation that should have been routine—infiltrating a high-society gala to obtain documents about temporal artifacts from a private collector.

Five had automatically assumed he would handle the infiltration—he had experience, could teleport if things went wrong—but Diego had pointed out the obvious security issue.

"Five, your face is in half a dozen government databases," Diego had said matter-of-factly. "And not precisely as a 'model citizen.'"

"So what do you suggest?"

It had been Sloane who had turned toward Klaus with a thoughtful smile. "How about Klaus? He's... adaptable."

Klaus had looked up from where he'd been apparently absorbed in translating something that appeared to be in Egyptian hieroglyphs, and Five had seen the exact moment Klaus had made some internal decision. Something had shifted in his posture, a subtle straightening that suggested resources being marshaled, capabilities being unlocked.

"Give me three hours," Klaus had said, already moving toward the stairs.

Those three hours had felt like days to Five. He'd paced the Academy's halls, ostensibly reviewing mission parameters but actually counting down the minutes until Klaus reappeared. There had been something in Klaus's voice when he'd accepted the mission, something that suggested this wouldn't be the fumbling, luck-based approach they all expected.

When Klaus had finally descended the main staircase, Five had forgotten how to breathe.

The transformation had been complete and devastating. Klaus wore a perfectly tailored black suit that revealed the elegant lines of his body that he usually hid under loose clothing. His hair had been styled in a way that emphasized the aristocratic bone structure Five had noticed in glimpses but never seen fully displayed. But it had been his eyes that had stopped Five's heart—sharp, focused, completely alert in a way that spoke of intelligence and calculation and competencies Five was only beginning to understand.

"Ready?" Klaus had asked, and his voice had carried just the hint of an accent that Five couldn't place but that sounded expensive, educated, completely at odds with Klaus's usual casual inflections.

Five had managed a nod, not trusting his voice. The sight of Klaus transformed—not just physically but in his entire presence—had awakened something in Five that felt primitive and possessive and utterly beyond his control.

**

The gala had been a masterclass in manipulation that Five had never expected to witness. Klaus had moved through the crowd like he'd been born to it, switching languages and cultural references with the fluidity of someone who'd spent decades studying human behavior. Five had watched from the margins, officially providing backup but actually mesmerized by Klaus's performance.

"Bonsoir, Madame Laurent," Klaus had greeted a French diplomat, his accent perfect, his posture subtly different to match European social expectations. "Votre robe est magnifique ce soir."

The woman had lit up, immediately launching into rapid French about the designer and the evening's entertainment. Klaus had matched her enthusiasm, discussing fashion and art with the kind of detailed knowledge that could only come from extensive study. But Five had caught the subtle ways Klaus had steered the conversation, extracting information about security protocols and guest lists while making it seem like casual small talk.

Five's Italian was good enough to follow when Klaus had engaged a museum curator in discussion about Renaissance art: "La tecnica del chiaroscuro in quest'opera è particolarmente interessante. Ricorda molto il lavoro di Caravaggio durante il suo periodo napoletano."

The technical discussion of chiaroscuro techniques, the casual reference to Caravaggio's Neapolitan period—Klaus wasn't just speaking Italian, he was demonstrating art historical knowledge that would have impressed university professors. Five had felt something tighten in his chest that was equal parts attraction and possessive pride.

With a Japanese curator, Klaus had become someone else entirely—more formal, more deferential, his gestures smaller and more precise. "Yamada-san," he'd said with a perfect bow, "anata no Meiji fukko jinkobutsu ni kansuru kenkyuu wa kakumeiteki deshita." Your work with the Meiji restoration artifacts has been revolutionary.

The man had been so delighted to discuss his research that he'd spent twenty minutes explaining the evening's security arrangements, completely unaware that he was providing exactly the intelligence they needed.

But it had been Klaus's interaction with their target—Heinrich Mueller, the German collector who possessed the documents they needed—that had made Five's mouth go dry and his heart race with something he was afraid to examine too closely.

Klaus had approached Mueller with a different kind of confidence, something that bordered on seduction without ever crossing into anything unprofessional. His German had been flawless, his knowledge of art history extensive enough to engage Mueller in deep conversation about pieces in his private collection.

"Die Verluste Ihrer Familie während des Krieges," Klaus had said at one point, his voice soft with genuine empathy, "ich kann mir den Schmerz nicht vorstellen, so viel Geschichte zu verlieren, so viele Schätze, die Sie mit Ihren Vorfahren verbanden." The losses your family suffered during the war—I cannot imagine the pain of losing so much history, so many treasures that connected you to your ancestors.

Mueller's eyes had grown wet, and he'd gripped Klaus's arm with the desperation of someone who'd been waiting years for understanding. "Ja, genau," he'd whispered. "Niemand versteht, was diese Verluste bedeuteten, nicht nur finanziell, sondern... spirituell." Yes, exactly. No one comprehends what those losses meant, not just financially but... spiritually.

Klaus had nodded, his entire focus concentrated on the older man with an intensity that made Five's chest tighten with something that felt uncomfortably like jealousy. "Schönheit, die uns mit unserer Vergangenheit verbindet—sie ist unersetzlich. Ich erforsche ähnliche Verluste für meine Dissertation, versuche zu verstehen, wie Familien nach solchen Traumata wieder aufgebaut haben." Beauty that connects us to our past—it's irreplaceable. I'm researching similar losses for my dissertation, trying to understand how families rebuilt after such trauma.

The lie had been perfect, delivered with enough truth to be completely convincing. Mueller had invited Klaus to see his private collection, to dance, completely taken in by Klaus's combination of expertise and emotional intelligence.

And then they had danced.

Five had watched from across the ballroom, his body going tense with something that felt dangerously close to violent possession, as Klaus had moved onto the dance floor with Mueller. But instead of taking the lead as Five had expected, Klaus had done something that made Five's world tilt on its axis.

Klaus had submitted.

He had allowed Mueller to guide him, his body flowing with that same liquid grace Five had witnessed during the training session, but now directed toward making another man feel powerful, masculine, in control. Klaus had tilted his head at just the right angle to make Mueller feel taller, had smiled with just the right blend of admiration and deference to make the older man's chest puff with pride.

When Mueller had spun him, Klaus had moved like silk, his body trusting completely to the other man's guidance. When Mueller had dipped him, Klaus had arched his back and closed his eyes as if the movement were pure bliss, as if surrendering control to Mueller was the most natural thing in the world.

Five had felt something primitive and possessive claw at his chest as he'd watched Klaus use his capacity for submission as a weapon, as a tool of manipulation so elegant and effective that Mueller had been completely helpless against it. Klaus had made himself the perfect partner—responsive, graceful, utterly compliant—and Mueller had been enslaved by the power fantasy Klaus had offered him.

But all Five could think was: I want that. I want to be the one Klaus trusts that completely. I want to be the one he yields to, the one he makes feel powerful while he flows like water around my movements.

The thought had been so clear, so undeniably possessive, that Five had had to excuse himself to the men's room before he did something that would compromise the mission.

When he'd returned, Klaus and Mueller had finished dancing, and Klaus had been guiding the older man toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, his hand light on Mueller's arm, his body language still conveying that perfect balance of respect and subtle invitation that was driving Five absolutely insane with want.

**

The actual theft had been almost anticlimactic after Klaus's performance at the gala. Mueller had invited Klaus to his private study, eager to show off his collection to someone who appreciated its historical significance. Five had followed at a discrete distance, officially providing backup but actually unable to resist the need to stay close to Klaus.

He'd positioned himself where he could observe through partially opened doors as Klaus had admired Mueller's pieces with genuine enthusiasm while subtly photographing the documents they needed. Klaus's conversation had never faltered even as he'd accomplished their mission objective, his focus split seamlessly between appreciation, manipulation, and practical objectives.

"Diese Sammlung ist außergewöhnlich," Klaus had murmured, running his fingers reverently along the edge of an antique frame while his other hand had discretely activated the camera hidden in his jacket. "Die Art, wie Sie diese Stücke zusammengestellt haben, erzählt eine Geschichte, die über ihre individuelle Bedeutung hinausgeht." This collection is extraordinary. The way you've assembled these pieces tells a story that transcends their individual significance.

Mueller had practically glowed with pride, launching into detailed explanations of his acquisition methods while Klaus had documented everything they needed. Five had watched, transfixed, as Klaus had balanced genuine interest with practical espionage, his intellectual curiosity making his performance completely authentic.

When Klaus had finally emerged from Mueller's study, carrying a small leather portfolio and wearing an expression of quiet satisfaction, Five had felt something in his chest release and tighten simultaneously.

"Got everything we need," Klaus had said simply as they'd made their way back through the ballroom.

"How?" Five had asked, though he'd observed enough to understand the general approach.

Klaus had shrugged, already shifting back toward his usual casual demeanor, but Five had caught the small smile of satisfaction that lingered around his eyes. "Mueller wanted someone to understand what the pieces meant to him. I listened." He'd paused, then added quietly, "Sometimes that's all people need—someone who sees the value in what they care about."

The comment had felt loaded with subtext, and Five had found himself studying Klaus's profile as they'd made their way to the car. In the dim light of the ballroom's crystal chandeliers, Klaus had looked like something out of a Renaissance painting—elegant, mysterious, beautiful in a way that made Five's chest ache with longing.

**

The car ride back to the Academy had been thick with tension that had nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with the way Klaus had demonstrated capabilities that Five had never imagined, competencies that made Five's pulse race with something that felt dangerously close to worship.

"Klaus," Five had said when they'd reached a red light, the impulse to speak overriding his usual caution. "What you did tonight—"

"Was necessary for the mission," Klaus had interrupted, not looking at him, but Five had caught the way Klaus's hands had tightened in his lap.

"Was extraordinary," Five had finished firmly. "You were extraordinary."

Klaus had turned to look at him then, something raw and unguarded flickering across his features. "Fünf..." Klaus had started, then caught himself, switching back to English. "Five, I—"

"Say my name in German again," Five had said, the words coming out rougher than he'd intended, loaded with implications he wasn't ready to examine.

Klaus had gone very still, his eyes wide in the passing streetlights. "Five..."

"Please." Five had pulled over to the side of the road, unable to concentrate on driving when Klaus was looking at him like that—like Five was something dangerous and desired in equal measure.

"Fünf," Klaus had whispered, and the familiar name in his perfect German pronunciation had done something to Five's nervous system that felt like being struck by lightning.

Five had reached over without thinking, his hand finding Klaus's cheek, thumb brushing over sharp cheekbones that seemed to be carved from marble. Klaus had leaned into the touch with a sound that was half sigh, half sob.

"Du machst mich verrückt," Five had said, his German rusty but adequate. You're driving me crazy.

Klaus's eyes had widened, pupils dilating in the dim light. "Du sprichst Deutsch?" You speak German?

"Nicht so gut wie du. Bei weitem nicht so schön." Not as well as you. Not nearly as beautifully.

Klaus had made a sound that might have been laughter or might have been something more desperate. "Du verstehst nicht—" You don't understand—

"Dann erkläre es mir," Five had murmured, leaning closer, intoxicated by the way German sounded in Klaus's voice, by the way Klaus was trembling under his touch. Then explain it to me.

Klaus had closed his eyes, his breathing shallow and uneven. "Ich kann nicht—es ist zu kompliziert—" I can't—it's too complicated—

"Versuche es." Try.

When Klaus had opened his eyes again, they had been bright with something that looked like terror and hope in equal measure. "Ich—ich habe schon immer—du warst schon immer—" I—I've always—you were always—

But instead of finishing, Klaus had pressed his lips against Five's palm, a kiss so gentle and desperate that it had made Five's entire world narrow to this moment, this car, this impossible beautiful man who spoke languages like poetry and moved like water and was falling apart under Five's touch.

"Mein Herz," Klaus had whispered against Five's skin—my heart—and Five had felt something fundamental shift inside his chest, as if Klaus's words had reached something deep and true that Five had been hiding from himself for years.

Five had been leaning forward, drawn by gravity and longing and the absolute necessity of kissing Klaus properly, when Klaus's phone had started ringing. They had sprung apart as if burned, both breathing hard, the moment shattering like glass.

Klaus had answered the phone with shaking hands, his voice carefully controlled as he'd spoken to whoever was calling. Five had sat back in the driver's seat, trying to process what had just happened, trying to understand why hearing Klaus whisper "mein Herz" had felt like coming home.

**

The days that followed had been a careful dance of avoidance and gravitational pull, made more complicated by the way their family seemed determined to remain oblivious to Klaus's true capabilities. Despite his flawless performance at the gala, despite the successful completion of the mission, Klaus had slipped back into his role of harmless comic relief with the practiced ease of someone who'd been hiding in plain sight his entire life.

But Five had seen too much now to be fooled by the performance. He'd begun cataloging every moment when Klaus allowed his intelligence to show through—the way he'd corrected Viktor's pronunciation of Italian musical terms with casual expertise, how he'd helped Allison research historical context for a legal case in rapid-fire Spanish, the strategic input he'd offered during mission planning that had demonstrated tactical thinking that rivaled Five's own analytical capabilities.

What made it worse was the way the family continued to dismiss these glimpses of Klaus's competence as lucky accidents or ghostly assistance. When Klaus had provided detailed intelligence about a target's background after "chatting with some deceased locals," Luther had thanked him with the same tone he'd use to praise a child for remembering to tie their shoes.

Five had found himself watching these interactions with the intensity of someone studying a complex equation, trying to map the precise moments when Klaus chose to reveal fragments of his true self. It was subtle—Klaus was still maintaining his facade of beautiful uselessness—but for someone who knew what to look for, the signs were unmistakable.

And increasingly infuriating.

When Diego had made a dismissive comment about Klaus's "limited practical skills" during a mission briefing, Five had felt something protective and possessive flare so strongly that he'd had to excuse himself before saying something that would reveal too much about his growing feelings.

**

The breaking point had come during what should have been a routine afternoon. Claire and Stan had been at the park with a trusted handler—someone who understood the unique security needs of superpowered children. The call had come at 3:17 PM: the children were missing, the handler was unconscious in the hospital, and there were no witnesses.

The reaction had been immediate and catastrophic. Diego had gone white, then red with rage, pacing the Academy's main hall like a caged animal. Allison had been on the phone with every contact she had in law enforcement, her voice tight with controlled panic. Luther had been coordinating with the Sparrows, establishing search patterns and communication protocols.

And Klaus—Klaus had gone utterly still in a way that Five had never seen before.

"Klaus?" Five had asked quietly, approaching him carefully.

Klaus's head had been tilted at that listening angle, but his entire body had been tense with focus. His eyes had been closed, and Five had been able to see the rapid movement behind his lids that suggested intense concentration.

"I can hear them," Klaus had said, his voice different—harder, more precise. "The dead don't like it when children are hurt. They're... agitated."

"Can they tell you where—?"

"Industrial district," Klaus had interrupted, already moving toward the door. "Warehouse near the river. They're scared but unharmed."

"Klaus, wait," Luther had called, but Klaus had been moving with purpose now, his usual loose-limbed grace replaced by something that looked almost military in its precision.

Five had followed without question, something primitive and protective driving him to stay close to Klaus. They'd taken Five's car, but Klaus had directed him through back streets with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where they were going.

"How can you be sure?" Five had asked as they'd navigated toward the industrial district.

"Because Margaret Chen is very upset about the 'disrespect' being shown in the warehouse where she died," Klaus had replied, his voice clipped and focused. "She's been dead for three years, killed during a robbery gone wrong, and she doesn't appreciate criminals using her death-place for kidnapping children."

The casual way Klaus had described his conversation with a murder victim had sent chills down Five's spine, but not from fear—from recognition of just how powerful Klaus truly was when he chose to use his abilities properly.

When they'd reached the warehouse complex, Klaus had paused at the entrance, head tilted again in that listening posture.

"Six men," he'd murmured with absolute certainty. "Children are in the back room, scared but physically unharmed. Two guards at the main entrance, four more distributed at strategic points throughout the building."

"How can you possibly know that with such precision?"

Klaus had turned to look at him, and Five had seen something in his eyes that was both ancient and utterly present. "Because I have twenty-three dead witnesses, and the recently deceased are very good at counting living bodies."

What had followed had been the most elegant demonstration of coordinated infiltration Five had ever participated in. Klaus had moved like a shadow made flesh, but this time Five had been his partner, following Klaus's whispered instructions with absolute trust.

"Rechts, zwei Schritte, dann blinken," Klaus had murmured in German so quietly that only Five could hear. Right, two steps, then blink.

Five had followed the instruction without question, appearing exactly where Klaus had indicated just as one of the guards had turned toward Klaus's position. Five had neutralized the man silently while Klaus had continued moving toward the children.

"Maintenant, à gauche—deux hommes dans l'ombre," Klaus had continued in French, and Five had found himself responding to the multilingual commands with a precision that surprised them both. Now, to the left—two men in the shadows.

They had moved through that warehouse like dancers following choreography, Klaus using his ghostly intelligence network to guide Five's spatial jumps with surgical precision. Each of Klaus's whispered instructions in different languages had felt like an intimate secret, a demonstration of trust that made Five's chest tight with emotion even in the middle of combat.

When they had finally secured the building, Klaus had emerged from the back room with Claire in his arms and Stan by the hand, both children unharmed and clinging to him with desperate relief.

"Oncle Klaus nous a sauvés," Claire had murmured against his neck—Uncle Klaus saved us.

"Tú y Tío Five son héroes," Stan had added, looking between them with the kind of admiration that made Five understand why Klaus was so protective of these children. You and Uncle Five are heroes.

Klaus had responded to both children in their respective languages, his voice gentle and comforting, and Five had watched in amazement as the competent rescuer had seamlessly shifted into the role of protective uncle, offering comfort with the same skill he'd demonstrated in combat.

**

That night, Five had found Klaus on the Academy's roof, sitting on the edge with his legs dangling over the precipice. In the moonlight, Klaus looked ethereal again, but now Five understood that the otherworldly quality came from Klaus's constant communication with realms the rest of them couldn't perceive.

"I knew you could do that," Five had said as he'd sat beside Klaus, careful to maintain a distance that felt safe for both of them.

Klaus had sighed, a sound that carried years of hidden capabilities and forced incompetence. "I always could. The dead are excellent teachers when you have no choice but to listen to them."

"Why didn't you show it before?"

"Because every time I hurt someone as a child, there was a chance their ghost would stay with me permanently. I already had enough voices in my head." Klaus had paused, his hands gripping the roof's edge. "But now I've learned how to neutralize without permanently harming. Unconscious people don't usually become ghosts—they have to actually die to join the chorus."

Five had studied Klaus's profile in the moonlight, cataloging the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hair moved in the evening breeze. "You're extraordinary."

"I'm a mess with good ghostly advisors."

"You're the bravest person I know." Five's voice had carried more intensity than he'd intended, and Klaus had turned to look at him with surprise clear in his expression.

"Five..."

"Today you risked everything for those children. No hesitation, no backup plan, no thought for your own safety. You just acted."

"They're family."

"And you're mine," Five had said, the words escaping before he could stop them. "My family, my..." Five had paused, not ready to voice the deeper truth, not ready to acknowledge that Klaus had become something far more significant than a brother to him.

Klaus had smiled, but there had been something fragile about the expression, as if he were afraid to hope for too much. "Du bedeutest mir auch alles," he'd whispered—You mean everything to me too.

Five had felt his chest tighten with emotion he couldn't fully name. Klaus's German was perfect as always, but the vulnerability in his voice had made the words sound like a confession, like something Klaus had been holding back for years.

"Klaus," Five had said, moving closer without conscious thought, "I need you to know—"

But before he could finish, Viktor had appeared on the roof access, calling Klaus's name. They'd sprung apart, the moment fragmenting like glass, leaving both of them breathless and wanting.

**

Three weeks later, the Academy had organized what Allison had insisted on calling a "family celebration"—an elegant dinner to commemorate surviving more than a month without an apocalypse threatening their existence. Lila, now visibly pregnant, had insisted on hiring a jazz band for the occasion.

Klaus had come down that night in a suit Five had never seen before—midnight blue so dark it looked black under certain lights, cut to emphasize every elegant line of his body that he usually hid under loose clothing. The transformation was subtle but devastating, revealing the aristocratic bone structure and lean grace that Klaus kept carefully concealed.

"Do you like it?" Klaus had asked, turning slightly so Five could see the perfect tailoring, and Five had felt his mouth go completely dry.

"You look devastatingly beautiful," Five had responded honestly, approaching to adjust Klaus's tie even though it was already perfect. It had been an excuse to be close, to breathe in that intoxicating scent of sandalwood and something indefinably Klaus that always made Five feel slightly drunk.

The dinner had been surprisingly normal—Allison and Luther had shared stories about their respective partners, Diego and Lila had debated baby names with increasing creativity, Viktor had played piano while Claire sang French songs that Klaus had taught her. Klaus had translated the lyrics for Stan, their voices creating harmonies that had filled the room with warmth.

But it had been after dinner, when the band had begun playing music for dancing, that Five had made a decision he'd been considering all evening.

"Klaus," he'd said, standing from his chair and extending his hand with deliberate formality.

Klaus had looked at the offered hand, then at Five's face, understanding immediately that this wasn't a casual request between siblings. "Are you asking me to dance, Five Hargreeves?"

"I'm demanding it," Five had replied, his voice carrying that intensity Klaus had learned to recognize as Five being absolutely serious about something.

Klaus's eyes had darkened slightly, and Five had seen the exact moment he'd understood this was going to be something far more significant than family entertainment. "How could I refuse such a... compelling invitation?"

Five had guided Klaus to the center of the room, aware that their family was watching with curiosity but not caring about anything except the way Klaus felt under his hands. He'd signaled the band, and they'd begun playing a slow, seductive tango with a rhythm that had made Five's heart match the beat.

"Do you know how to tango?" Klaus had murmured as Five positioned him properly—one hand on Klaus's waist, the other holding his extended hand.

"I learned many things during my years of travel," Five had responded, drawing Klaus closer until there was barely space between their bodies. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life," Klaus had whispered without hesitation.

And then they had begun to move.

Five had guided Klaus through the steps with a confidence that had surprised both of them, their bodies finding a rhythm that had been part seduction, part silent conversation. Klaus had followed every movement with that liquid grace that characterized everything he did, but there was something conscious about his submission this time—a deliberate choice to let Five take complete control that had made something primitive and possessive sing in Five's chest.

When Five had spun him and then drawn him back against his chest, Klaus had arched his back, completely trusting Five to support him. Their faces had been inches apart, their breaths mixing in the space between them, and Five had been able to see his own desire reflected in Klaus's dilated pupils.

"Five," Klaus had murmured, and there had been something in his voice that had made Five feel like he was the most powerful person in the universe.

Five had dipped Klaus dramatically, holding him with one hand on his lower back, the other still entwined with his. Klaus had closed his eyes, completely trusting Five to support him, his neck arched in a way that had made Five want to press his lips against the temptingly exposed pale skin.

When Five had brought him back up, their bodies had been pressed completely together, and Five had been able to feel the way Klaus was trembling slightly—not from fear, but from something much more intense and mutual.

"Are you okay?" Five had murmured against Klaus's ear.

"Perfect," Klaus had responded, but his voice had come out hoarse, loaded with implications. "Though we might have a problem."

"Which one?"

Klaus had pressed closer, his hips finding Five's in a way that had been completely intentional. "If we keep dancing like this, I'm going to need you to take me upstairs very soon."

Five had smiled, an expression that had been half tender, half predatory. "Who says we're going to make it to upstairs?"

Klaus had gasped softly, and Five had seen the exact moment his pupils had dilated completely. "Fivey..."

"Finish the song," Five had murmured, guiding Klaus through another turn that had ended with Klaus pressed against his chest, "and then we'll see about privacy."

Klaus had followed every movement after that with an intensity that had made Five feel as if they were making love on the dance floor, fully clothed and in front of their entire family. Every dip, every turn, every moment their bodies had pressed together had been charged with electricity that had made the air around them practically vibrate with tension.

When the music had finally ended, they had remained motionless for a moment, looking into each other's eyes with an intensity that had made the rest of the world disappear. Five had been able to see his own desperate need reflected in Klaus's green eyes, had been able to feel the way Klaus was trembling in his arms.

"Upstairs," Five had murmured against Klaus's ear. "Now."

Klaus had smiled, that smile that was half innocence, half pure temptation. "Yes."

And as they had headed for the stairs—Five's hand on Klaus's lower back, Klaus moving with the fluid grace that had been driving Five crazy for months—the rest of the family had remained in stunned silence.

"Did anyone else just witness the most intensely sexual courtship in history?" Diego had asked finally.

"I think," Viktor had said slowly, "we just watched Five and Klaus have an entire conversation without saying a word."

"About damn time," Lila had murmured, a protective hand over her belly. "The sexual tension between those two was driving all of us insane."

"They're going to be insufferable now," Luther had commented, but his tone had been fond rather than annoyed.

"Good," Allison had said firmly. "They deserve to be happy. Both of them."

Upstairs, Klaus's bedroom door had closed with a soft click, and the sound of quiet conversation in multiple languages had drifted down the hallway—tender, intimate, full of promises and confessions that had been years in the making.

And in the Umbrella Academy, for the first time in a very long time, everything had been exactly as it should be.

**

Hours later, Five stirred from sleep to find the bed beside him empty. The sheets still held Klaus's warmth, but Klaus himself was gone. Five found him sitting on the wide windowsill of his bedroom, one leg drawn up to his chest, the other dangling carelessly. He was wearing nothing but Five's shirt from earlier—the white dress shirt that hung loose on his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Klaus was gazing out at the night sky, his face peaceful in the moonlight that streamed through the window. The city sprawled below them, lights twinkling like earthbound stars, but Klaus's attention seemed focused on something far beyond the urban landscape.

"Can't sleep?" Five asked quietly, approaching slowly so as not to startle him.

Klaus turned, a small smile playing at his lips. "The voices are quieter at night," he said simply. "Especially after..." He gestured vaguely toward the rumpled bed, color rising in his cheeks. "After happiness. They seem to give me space when I'm content."

Five settled beside him on the wide sill, the Academy's old architecture providing just enough room for both of them. Klaus shifted slightly, making space while maintaining the comfortable intimacy they'd discovered.

"What are you thinking about?" Five murmured, following Klaus's gaze to the star-scattered sky.

Klaus was quiet for a moment, his fingers absently tracing patterns on Five's forearm. "I was talking to Sophie—she died in Berlin in 1943, speaks the most beautiful German I've ever heard. She was telling me about the night sky over her childhood home, how she used to make wishes on stars before..."

Klaus trailed off, but Five understood. Before the world had taken everything from her.

"What did she wish for?"

"Simple things," Klaus said softly. "To wake up tomorrow. To see her sister again. To feel safe." Klaus turned to look at Five, his green eyes reflecting the moonlight. "I realized I've never made wishes like that. I've spent so long just trying to survive that I forgot there might be things worth wanting."

Five reached over, covering Klaus's hand with his own. "And now?"

Klaus smiled, genuine and radiant. "Now I know what it feels like to want tomorrow to come." He paused, switching to German, his voice soft and intimate. "Ich wünsche mir viele Morgen mit dir." I wish for many mornings with you.

"Das wünsche ich mir auch," Five replied, his German careful but sincere. I wish for that too.

Klaus leaned against Five's shoulder, comfortable and trusting. "Sophie says the dead envy us for this—for the ability to hold each other, to make plans, to choose happiness." He was quiet for a moment. "I never understood before what they meant."

Five pressed a kiss to the top of Klaus's head, breathing in the scent of his hair. "We'll figure this out," he said quietly. "Whatever complications come with loving each other, we'll handle them."

"Together?" Klaus asked, echoing their earlier conversation, but now the question carried different weight—the weight of shared intimacy, of promises made in whispered confessions.

"Together," Five confirmed. "In every language you know, in every way that matters."

Klaus tilted his head up, pressing a soft kiss to Five's jaw. "Per sempre," he whispered against Five's skin—forever.

"Forever," Five agreed, pulling Klaus closer as they watched the city sleep below them and the stars wheel overhead, finally understanding that they had found something worth more than survival—they had found home in each other.

In the distance, church bells chimed three in the morning, but neither of them moved to return to bed. This moment—Klaus warm and pliant against his side, the night sky endless above them, the promise of tomorrow stretching ahead—felt too precious to end.

"Ti amo," Klaus murmured drowsily, mixing languages as he often did when he was content.

"Je t'aime aussi," Five responded, and Klaus smiled against his neck, recognizing the French even in his half-sleeping state.

Outside, the world continued its restless turning, but inside Klaus's room, two people who had finally found their way to each other sat wrapped in starlight and possibility, speaking the universal language of love in every tongue Klaus could teach him.

Chapter Text

The mission had been successful, as always. But when Five returned from the Commission offices that morning, something had changed drastically. The gray-suited bastards had decided that an elite assassin with the appearance of a teenager was no longer "professionally appropriate." Without warning, without consultation, they had simply altered his temporal biology during his last jump, granting him the body that corresponded to his years of experience.

Now he appeared twenty-six: broad shoulders that filled shirts perfectly, a defined yet elegant torso that spoke of years of lethal training, arms that displayed the subtle but devastating strength of a professional assassin. His build remained lean, but every line of muscle had been sculpted with precision, creating a harmonious silhouette that was both deadly and seductive. His face had matured, losing its youthful softness to reveal a more pronounced jawline, defined cheekbones that accentuated his piercing blue eyes, and a presence that finally matched his fearsome reputation.

What they hadn't considered was his wardrobe.

Five observed himself in his bedroom mirror, his blue eyes reflecting deep frustration as he tugged uselessly at the sleeves of his school blazer. The pants reached mid-calf, the shirt strained dangerously across his now-broader chest, and the tie looked more like a dog collar.

"Goddamn temporal bureaucrats," he muttered through gritted teeth, loosening the tie that now fit him ridiculously poorly. Decades protecting the timeline, eliminating anomalies, being the best at what he did, and now he found himself reduced to this: a grown man dressed like a schoolboy on his first day of classes.

But there was something else bothering him, something that had been growing in his chest for months since they'd returned home from the sixties. Klaus. Always Klaus. For years he had rationalized his protective need toward his brother as simple family loyalty. But the truth was far more complex and terrifying: he desired him. He desired him with an intensity that kept him awake at night, that made him make irrational decisions in the field, that consumed him every time Klaus was in danger.

And now, with this body that finally corresponded to his mind, those feelings threatened to overflow completely, and the question was: What was stopping him from claiming what he wanted?

A soft knock on the door interrupted his dark thoughts.

"Fivey?" Klaus's sing-song voice filtered through the wood. "I heard you had a little... wardrobe problem."

Five closed his eyes, mentally counting to ten. Of course Klaus already knew. That man had a supernatural radar for drama and opportunities to cause chaos. Especially now that he had learned to use his powers without depending on substances.

"Come in, Klaus."

The door opened and Klaus appeared in the doorway, and Five felt his breath catch in his throat. His brother wore only an emerald silk robe that barely reached mid-thigh, the fluid material caressing every line of his slender body. But what truly stole Five's breath were his legs: long, pale, and wrapped in dark stockings that extended to higher than the robe allowed him to see. The subtle sound of heels against the wooden floor made Five's eyes travel downward, where they found black heeled shoes that accentuated the elegant curve of Klaus's calves.

His curly hair was slightly tousled, as if he had just gotten out of bed, and there was something in his eyes that Five had never seen before: a spark of mischief mixed with something deeper, more dangerous.

"Well, well..." Klaus looked him up and down slowly, his eyes stopping at every place where the clothing strained against Five's new body. "It seems someone finally grew up. And I must say, brother, the result is... impressive."

Five felt warmth bloom in his chest at Klaus's tone of voice. There was something different in the way he looked at him, as if he finally saw him as something more than the child trapped in impossible circumstances.

"The idiots at the Commission decided to make some... adjustments," Five growled, tugging again at the jacket. "Without consulting, of course."

Klaus approached slowly, and Five could perceive his scent: a mixture of incense, something sweet that might have been vanilla, and something purely Klaus that had always driven him crazy.

"Well," Klaus extended a hand toward Five's tie, his fingers accidentally brushing the skin of his neck, "clearly you need help with this. And although I have a date tonight, I suppose I can take the time to help you find your style."

Five froze completely. The words hit his chest like ice bullets. "A date?"

"Mmm-hmm," Klaus hummed, clearly enjoying the effect his words were having. "A really handsome guy I met at the café. Beautiful blue eyes, dangerous smile... you know, the type of guy who screams 'danger.'"

Five's jaw visibly tensed. A cold, calculated fury began to grow in his chest, the same one he felt before eliminating a target. But this time, the target was hypothetical, and that made it infinitely worse.

"What time?" Five asked with a calm he didn't feel.

Klaus blinked, clearly not expecting such a controlled reaction. "Excuse me?"

"Your date. What time?"

"Uh... eight o'clock," Klaus replied, a nervous smile crossing his face. "Why?"

Five smiled, but it was a smile that would have made a professional hitman consider changing careers. "Simple curiosity."

Mentally, Five was already calculating. Eight in the evening. That gave him enough time to locate this "handsome guy," find out everything about him, and ensure he had a very convincing emergency that would prevent him from showing up. Perhaps a sudden family problem. Or mysterious food poisoning. Or he could simply appear at his door and explain, very clearly, why canceling the date would be the smartest thing he could do.

"Fortunately," Klaus continued, completely oblivious to Five's homicidal thoughts, "I have the perfect solution for your wardrobe crisis."

Five allowed Klaus to guide him toward his room, mainly because he needed time to plan exactly how he was going to sabotage this supposed date. Klaus wasn't going anywhere. Especially not with some idiot with "beautiful blue eyes" who clearly had no idea who he was playing with.

Because Klaus belonged to him, even if Klaus didn't know it yet.

Klaus's room was, predictably, a beautiful chaos. Exotic fabrics hung from every surface, aromatic candles created soft, golden light, and plants that definitely shouldn't be alive thrived in every corner. But what really captured Five's attention was the open closet, which seemed to have vomited a rainbow of clothes all over the room.

"Welcome to my style sanctuary," Klaus declared dramatically, spinning to face Five. The movement made his robe open slightly, revealing a flash of pale skin that made Five's mouth go dry. "This is where we're going to find the real Five Hargreeves."

For the next hour, Klaus subjected Five to what could only be described as fashionista torture with a touch of sadism. He made him try on a purple silk shirt with peacock prints ("For your spiritual side, Five"), an emerald green velvet jacket ("Mysterious but approachable"), a Hawaiian shirt with pink flamingos ("To show your fun side... if you have one"), and a series of garments that seemed to come directly from a seventies pimp's wardrobe.

But what was really torturing Five wasn't the ridiculous clothes. It was the way Klaus touched him while dressing him: his hands "accidentally" brushing exposed skin, his fingers intentionally lingering on every button as if memorizing the texture of his skin. Five could feel the heat radiating from Klaus's body every time he came close, his intoxicating scent filling his senses to the point of madness.

Every "accident" was clearly deliberate. When Klaus leaned in to adjust a shirt collar, his lips were dangerously close to Five's ear, his warm breath sending shivers straight to his groin. Five had to clench his fists to keep from grabbing Klaus by the hips and pulling him against his body.

"Are you okay, Fivey?" Klaus would ask with false innocence after his fingers "accidentally" traced the line of Five's abdomen. "You look a little... tense."

Five would swallow hard, his self-control crumbling piece by piece. "I'm fine," he lied, his voice huskier than he intended.

But Klaus could see the effect he was causing. The way Five's muscles tensed under his touch, how his breathing became more labored when Klaus bit his lower lip while "concentrating," the way Five's blue eyes followed every movement of his hips when he walked around the room in those damn heels.

And every time Klaus leaned in to adjust something, Five could see beyond the neckline of his robe: flashes of black lace against pale skin, the edge of something that definitely wasn't bare skin, and what appeared to be... straps? Five felt his mouth dry with each tantalizing glimpse.

Klaus was playing with fire and they both knew it. Every touch was a provocation, every glance was an invitation, every movement calculated to drive Five to the brink of his sanity. And Klaus adored every second of that exquisite torture, feeding off the raw desire he saw growing in Five's eyes.

"Klaus," Five growled after Klaus tried to convince him to wear a silk kimono. "Do you have any garment in this disaster that doesn't look like it came from the wardrobe of an eighties porn movie?"

Klaus placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be deeply wounded. "Five, you wound me. My clothes are art, pure expression of the soul."

"Your clothes are a crime against humanity."

"You talk as if you don't enjoy having me undress and dress you over and over again," Klaus smiled, a smile that was pure mischief. "It almost seems like you enjoy having my hands on your body."

The statement hit Five like lightning. Klaus knew. Somehow, Klaus had noticed the effect he was having on him, had seen through his facade of annoyance to find the desire burning underneath.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Five lied, but his voice came out huskier than he intended.

Klaus approached slowly, his eyes gleaming with something Five recognized as pure mischief. "No? So you haven't noticed how you breathe differently when I touch you? How your muscles tense when I get too close?"

Five swallowed, feeling as if Klaus had seen straight through all his defenses. "Klaus..."

"Or how you've been looking at me since you entered my room?" Klaus continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Like you wanted to... devour me whole."

The air between them thickened, charged with years of unrecognized tension. Five could feel his self-control crumbling piece by piece under Klaus's penetrating gaze.

Nevertheless, Klaus headed toward the back of the closet, but this time there was something different in his movements. More deliberate, more conscious of the effect he was having on Five. After a moment, he emerged with something that made Five's heart stop completely.

It was a suit. Not just any suit, but one that seemed to have been made specifically for him: a black jacket with impeccable tailoring that promised to accentuate every line of his new body, a crisp white shirt that would contrast perfectly with his skin, pants that would look like a second skin. It was elegant, sophisticated, lethal, and absolutely perfect.

"Where did you...?" Five began, but the words died in his throat.

Klaus smiled, but this time it was different. Softer, more vulnerable. "I bought it months ago. I don't know why, I just... had the feeling that someday you might need it. That someday you would be... this."

Five took the suit with hands that trembled slightly. The fabric was exquisite, of a quality that probably cost more than monthly rent. Klaus had thought of him, had bought this for him, had waited for this moment.

"Klaus..." Five looked up to meet Klaus's eyes, and what he saw there almost knocked him down. Desire, yes, but also something deeper. Love, longing, years of repressed feelings finally finding the surface.

"Put it on," Klaus whispered, his voice hoarse. "I want to see you... I want to see the man you've been all this time."

Five headed to the adjoining bathroom, his movements unusually slow. When he removed the clothes that no longer fit him, he allowed himself a moment to observe his new body in the mirror. Defined but elegant muscles, pale but healthy skin, and finally, finally, the appearance that corresponded to the experience and power he carried within.

When he put on the suit, the transformation was immediate and devastating. The mirror reflected back the image of a dangerous, elegant, irresistible man. He was no longer the frustrated child trapped in impossible circumstances. He was Five Hargreeves in all his glory: brilliant, lethal, and finally with the appearance that matched his reputation.

Just as he was about to exit the bathroom, he heard the front door bell echoing throughout the mansion.

Klaus shouted from the bedroom: "Oh, that must be my date! He arrived early, how adorable..."

Five froze. His entire world was reduced to those words. The date. Klaus's real date.

Without thinking twice, Five disappeared in a blue flash.

He appeared in the main foyer, where a young blond man with blue eyes waited nervously. He was objectively attractive, which only intensified Five's fury.

"You're Klaus's date?" Five asked with a blood-chilling smile.

The guy straightened up. "Yes, I'm Mark. Klaus and I..."

"Mark," Five repeated as if memorizing the name for future elimination. "How interesting."

Diego and Luther appeared from the kitchen, immediately recognizing Five's homicidal expression.

"Five..." Diego began cautiously. "What are you doing?"

Five ignored his brothers, focusing on Mark. "Let me explain something about Klaus. He's complicated. Very complicated. People who get involved with him tend to... disappear."

Mark paled. "Disappear?"

"Strange accidents, sudden emergencies," Five moved closer. "It's as if the universe conspired to keep Klaus... available."

"Five, you're scaring the guy," Luther intervened.

"I'm simply being informative," Five smiled. "Mark deserves to know what he's getting into."

The poor guy was visibly trembling. "Maybe... maybe I should go."

"Excellent idea," Five nodded. "And I suggest you don't contact Klaus anymore. For your own safety."

Mark nodded frantically and practically ran out of the mansion.

Diego and Luther looked at Five with absolute horror.

"Did you just threaten Klaus's date?" Diego asked incredulously.

"Problem solved," Five shrugged before disappearing again.

He reappeared back in Klaus's room, who was sitting on the edge of the bed with an expression of absolute amusement, his robe having shifted to reveal far more than it had before. Five's breath caught in his throat as he realized what Klaus had been hiding underneath all along.

"Let me guess," Klaus smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Mark decided not to show up."

Five remained motionless, his eyes struggling to focus on Klaus's face when there was so much pale skin and black lace demanding his attention. "How...?"

Klaus laughed musically, the sound rich with satisfaction. "Fivey, my dear psychopath, I knew you would react exactly like this."

"What?" Five's voice came out rougher than intended, his gaze involuntarily dropping to where Klaus's emerald robe had fallen completely open.

"I had no interest in going out with Mark," Klaus said, slowly rising from the bed, allowing the silk to cascade off his shoulders entirely. "I just wanted to see what you would do. And you exceeded my wildest expectations."

Five slowly processed that he had been completely manipulated, but the realization was overshadowed by the vision before him. Klaus had played him perfectly, and now stood before him in nothing but black lace lingerie that hugged his narrow hips and accentuated every elegant line of his body. The contrast between the delicate fabric and his pale skin was absolutely sinful.

"Klaus..." Five growled, his voice loaded with threat and desire, his eyes drinking in every inch of exposed skin.

"Yes, Fivey?" Klaus purred, taking a deliberate step closer, his confidence wavering slightly as he registered the raw hunger in Five's gaze. "Were you going to say something?"

Five looked at him with a mixture of fury, admiration, and pure desire, but it was the latter that dominated as his eyes traced the path from Klaus's face down to the lace that left little to the imagination.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with tension, before Klaus's bravado cracked slightly. His breath hitched as he took in Five's transformation – the perfectly tailored suit that made him look every inch the dangerous, devastatingly handsome man he'd become.

"God, Five," Klaus whispered, his voice losing its playful edge and becoming something more vulnerable, more honest. "Look at you. You're... you're everything I imagined and more."

Five's entire world had been reduced to this moment: Klaus in black lace, vulnerable and wanting, finally dropping his masks.

"Klaus," Five said his name like a prayer, like a curse. "What is this?"

Klaus blushed, but didn't look away, his hands trembling slightly at his sides. "Hope, I suppose. I've been... waiting. Wanting. For so long, Five. So long."

The words broke the last vestige of Five's self-control. He crossed the room in three strides, his eyes never leaving Klaus's face.

"Do you know what you've been doing to me?" Five asked, his voice rough with desire. "Months, Klaus. Months of torture, of wanting you until it hurt."

Klaus trembled at the intensity in his voice. "Five..."

"During that entire hour of games," Five continued, approaching slowly, "touching me, dressing me, provoking me. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Klaus swallowed visibly. "I... hoped you would notice."

Five smiled, a smile that was pure predator. "Well, now it's my turn to play."

Without warning, Five removed the tie that Klaus had chosen to complete the suit, the same accessory he had used to torture him with those ridiculous outfits. Klaus's eyes widened when he realized Five's intentions.

"Five, what...?"

"Shh," Five put a finger to Klaus's lips. "You've had your fun. Now it's my turn."

With fluid, precise movements, Five guided Klaus's hands behind his back and tied them with the tie. The silk fabric slid smoothly around his wrists, not tight enough to hurt but enough to keep him completely immobilized.

"Five," Klaus gasped, pulling lightly at the bindings, "this is..."

"This is your punishment," Five murmured against his ear, his hot breath making Klaus shiver. "For torturing me for an entire hour. For making me want things I thought I could never have. And especially," his voice became dangerously low, "for that little performance with your imaginary date."

Without warning, Five's palm crashed against Klaus's ass with a sharp sound that resonated throughout the room. Klaus arched with a moan that was half surprise, half pure pleasure.

"Five!" Klaus gasped, but the sound was more excitement than protest.

"Did you think I wasn't going to punish you for being so naughty?" Five asked, his hand gently caressing the place he had struck before delivering another spank, this time harder. "For making me jealous on purpose, for manipulating me so shamelessly."

Klaus writhed, pulling uselessly at his bindings while waves of pleasure and pain mixed in his body. "I'm sorry," he managed to say between moans. "I'm sorry, Fivey."

"No, you're not sorry," Five smiled against his skin, delivering another spank that made Klaus scream. "But you will be when I'm finished with you."

Five pulled back enough to admire his work: Klaus bound, flushed, with red marks blooming on his ass, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of submission and desire that made him absolutely irresistible.

"You're perfect," Five whispered, his hands finding Klaus's shoulders, gently pushing him until he was lying on the bed. "Absolutely perfect, and completely mine."

Klaus moaned at the words, instinctively arching his back. "Yes, yours. I've always been yours, Five."

The confession ignited something primitive in Five. He loomed over Klaus, his blue eyes darkening with desire as his hands began to explore the exposed skin.

"Do you know how many nights I've been awake thinking about this?" Five murmured, his lips finding the accelerated pulse in Klaus's neck. "About how you would taste, how you would feel, how you would sound when I made you mine."

Klaus writhed beneath him, desperate for more contact. "Show me," he begged. "Show me everything."

Five smiled against his skin. "Oh, I will. But we're going to take our time."

His lips began a slow, devastating journey down Klaus's body, stopping at every sensitive point he found. The hollow of his throat, where he deposited a kiss before gently sucking, leaving a mark that would be impossible to hide. Klaus moaned, pulling uselessly at his bindings.

"Five, the mark..."

"That's the idea," Five murmured against his skin. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

He continued his descent, his teeth finding Klaus's collarbone, biting hard enough to leave another mark. Klaus arched his back, a mixture of pleasure and pain running through his body.

"Please," Klaus begged, his voice breaking. "Five, I need..."

"What do you need?" Five asked, lifting his head to look into his eyes. "Tell me."

"I need you," Klaus confessed, tears of frustration gleaming in his eyes. "I've needed you for so long."

Five captured his lips in a kiss that was pure possession, his tongue invading Klaus's mouth, claiming him completely. Klaus moaned against his lips, desperate and completely surrendered.

When they separated, both were breathing heavily. Five took a moment to admire his work: Klaus disheveled, flushed, with red marks blooming on his neck and collarbone, his eyes gleaming with desire and love.

"You're mine," Five declared, his voice loaded with promise and possession. "Only mine, Klaus."

"Only yours," Klaus confirmed, his voice hoarse. "Forever."

Five smiled at the total surrender in Klaus's voice, but had no intention of rushing. Not after waiting so long. His hands slid down Klaus's torso, exploring every inch of exposed skin before finding the edges of the black lace.

"This outfit," Five murmured, his fingers tracing patterns over the delicate fabric. "Did you buy it thinking of me?"

Klaus blushed deeply, but maintained his gaze. "Every night I dreamed of you taking it off me."

A low growl escaped Five's throat. His fingers tangled in the lace, but instead of removing it, he began to play with it, gently tugging the fabric until it brushed Klaus's sensitive skin in ways that drove him crazy.

"Five, please," Klaus gasped, arching against the touch. "I need more."

"Patience," Five murmured, leaning down to capture one of Klaus's nipples through the lace. "I've waited sixty years for this. I'm going to savor every second."

The sensation of Five's hot mouth over the wet fabric was exquisite torture. Klaus tugged at his bindings, desperate to touch, to feel more, but Five maintained absolute control of the rhythm.

Five's teeth found the hardened nipple, biting gently through the lace before sucking, creating a sensation that was part pleasure, part pain, and completely overwhelming. Klaus moaned loudly, his body trembling under Five's expert attention.

"Look at yourself," Five whispered, lifting his head to admire his work. "So beautiful, so desperate. Is this what you wanted when you put this on?"

"Yes," Klaus confessed breathlessly. "I wanted you to see me, to want me..."

"I've wanted you every day since we returned from 2019," Five admitted, his lips finding the other nipple. "Every damn day, Klaus. Every time I saw you in danger, every time you smiled, every time you simply existed in the same space as me."

The words, combined with the sensation of Five's teeth against his sensitive skin, made Klaus arch violently. "Five, I need... I need to feel you."

Five smiled against his skin before beginning a slow descent down Klaus's torso. His lips found every mark he had left earlier, licking them gently before continuing downward. When he reached Klaus's hips, he stopped, biting the soft skin of the inside of his thighs.

"Perfect," Five murmured against his skin. "Every inch of you is perfect, Klaus."

Klaus was losing his sanity. Every touch from Five was deliberate, calculated to drive him to the edge without allowing him the relief he desperately needed. When Five finally removed the lingerie with frustratingly slow movements, Klaus thought he might cry with gratitude.

"Please," Klaus begged, his voice breaking. "Five, please."

"Shh," Five murmured, his hands caressing Klaus's trembling legs. "Let me take care of you. Let me prepare you for me."

With patience that contrasted brutally with his own need, Five began to prepare Klaus, his movements expert but infinitely tender. Klaus melted under his touch, each caress sending waves of pleasure throughout his body.

"I always wanted to have you like this," Five whispered against his ear. "Completely mine, completely open for me. Do you know how many times I imagined this?"

"Tell me," Klaus gasped, lost in the sensations.

"Every night," Five confessed, adding another finger, making Klaus moan. "Every solitary mission. Every moment when I saw you smile and knew I could never have this, never have you."

Tears sprang from Klaus's eyes, not from pain but from an emotion so intense he had no words to describe it. "But you have me," he managed to say. "You've always had me, Five."

Five captured his lips in a devastating kiss, and Klaus could feel his own tears mixing with Five's. When they separated, Five pressed his forehead against Klaus's.

"I love you," Five whispered. "More than should be possible, more than is safe, more than is sane."

"I love you," Klaus responded, his voice hoarse with emotion. "With every part of my being that's broken and every part that's complete."

It was then that Five positioned himself between Klaus's legs, his blue eyes gleaming with an intensity that stole Klaus's breath. One of his hands found Klaus's throat, his fingers pressing lightly against his accelerated pulse.

"Do you trust me?" Five asked, his thumb tracing the line of Klaus's jaw.

"With my life," Klaus whispered. "Always."

Five applied light pressure, and Klaus felt his world narrow to the perfect point where pleasure met danger. His eyes closed, completely surrendered to Five's control.

"Look at me," Five ordered softly, slightly increasing the pressure. "I want to see you when I take you."

Klaus opened his eyes, meeting Five's intense gaze, and it was then that Five began to enter him, slowly, incredibly slowly.

"Breathe," Five whispered, his own voice trembling with contained emotion. "Breathe with me, my love."

The word "love" hit Klaus like lightning. No one, absolutely no one, had ever called him that before. Tears sprang from his eyes as he felt Five filling him completely, not just physically but emotionally, spiritually.

"Five," Klaus sobbed, his name a prayer on his lips. "Five, I..."

"I know," Five murmured, stopping completely when he was buried to the base, his forehead pressed against Klaus's. "I know, my heart. I feel you trembling."

Five released the pressure from his throat, but instead of moving his hand away, he slid it toward Klaus's bindings. With deliberate movements, he undid the knot of the tie, freeing Klaus's wrists.

Immediately, Klaus wrapped his arms around Five, clinging to him as if he were his lifeline in an ocean of overwhelming sensations. His hands buried themselves in Five's hair, keeping him close while he adapted to the sensation of being completely filled, completely possessed.

"You're perfect," Five whispered against his lips. "Absolutely perfect, Klaus. How could you believe you weren't worthy of being loved?"

Klaus sobbed at the words, because no one had ever told him that. No one had ever held him with such reverence, no one had ever looked at him as if he were something precious and worthy of care.

"Never..." Klaus began, his voice breaking. "No one had ever..."

"No one had loved you as you deserve," Five finished, pressing soft kisses all over Klaus's wet face. "But I do. I see you, Klaus. I see you complete, beautiful, perfect."

With infinite care, Five helped Klaus sit up, keeping them connected while Klaus positioned himself over him. The new position allowed Klaus to control the rhythm, and Five could see every expression of pleasure and emotion that crossed his face.

"Like this," Five murmured, his hands finding Klaus's hips, guiding him gently. "Take what you need, my love. Everything of me is yours."

Klaus began to move slowly, each movement filled with reverence and longing. It wasn't just sex; it was an intimate dance, a silent conversation between two souls who had finally found their home in each other.

"You're so beautiful like this," Five whispered, one of his hands sliding up to caress Klaus's chest. "My beautiful Klaus, finally where you belong."

"In your arms?" Klaus asked, his voice broken by pleasure.

"In my arms," Five confirmed. "In my heart. In my life. Forever, Klaus."

Klaus leaned down, capturing Five's lips in a kiss that tasted of salty tears and eternal promises. When they separated, their foreheads remained together, breathing the same air.

"I love you so much it hurts," Klaus confessed. "So much I thought I would go crazy."

"You never have to doubt again," Five promised, his hands guiding Klaus's rhythm, helping him find the perfect angle that made them both moan. "You'll never be alone again. I'm yours, Klaus. Completely yours."

The rhythm intensified gradually, but maintained that reverent quality, as if each movement were a declaration of love. Klaus arched backward, exposing the elegant line of his throat, and Five couldn't resist depositing soft kisses there, right over the marks he had left before.

"My heart," Five murmured against his skin. "My soul. My everything."

"Five," Klaus moaned, his head falling back. "God, Five, I never... I never thought I could feel like this."

"How?" Five asked, his lips finding the accelerated pulse in Klaus's throat.

"Loved," Klaus sobbed. "Completely, perfectly loved."

Five felt his heart contract at the words. He took Klaus's face in his hands, forcing him to look at him.

"You are loved," Five declared with an intensity that stole Klaus's breath. "More than words can express. You're my reason for living, Klaus. My reason for coming home."

They continued moving together, each thrust bringing them closer not only to physical climax but to a connection that transcended the corporeal. Klaus could feel Five's love in every touch, every kiss, every soft whisper.

"I can't believe you're real," Klaus murmured, his hands caressing Five's face. "I can't believe this is real."

"I'm real," Five promised. "This is real. We are real, and I'll never let you go."

And when they finally reached climax together, each other's names on their lips like sacred prayers, Klaus knew he had found his home. Not in a place, but in the arms of the man who loved him exactly as he was: broken, beautiful, and completely perfect in his eyes. Not just the physical pleasure, though that was devastating, but the emotional connection, the sensation of finally belonging completely to someone who loved him exactly as he was.

Five was relentless but tender, powerful but careful, exactly what Klaus had dreamed of for years without daring to admit it. And when they finally reached climax together, each other's names on their lips like prayers, they knew nothing would ever be the same.

Later, when they were entwined between the sheets, the marks on Klaus's neck and shoulders already darkening to purple, Five traced lazy patterns on his skin.

"The suit fits you perfectly," Klaus murmured against his chest, a satisfied smile in his voice.

Five laughed softly. "I think I prefer not wearing it when I'm with you."

Klaus lifted his head to look at him, his eyes gleaming with love and mischief. "Does this mean I'll have to get you more clothes?"

"Oh, Klaus," Five smiled, that smile that promised infinite nights of passion. "We have an entire eternity to find out."

And as Klaus snuggled back against him, Five knew he had finally come home. Not through time or space, but here, in the arms of the only man who had been able to see through all his layers of sarcasm and pain to find the heart that beat beneath.

The Commission had given him a new body, but Klaus had given him something much more valuable: a reason to use it.

Chapter Text

Five had lived decades calculating probabilities, measuring risks, controlling every variable. At twenty-three apparent years—his body had finally reached the maturity that his time travels had denied him for so long—he had learned to read the universe's most complex equations. But Klaus was the only one he couldn't solve, and the reason was as simple as it was terrifying: Klaus was a succubus.

He watched him from across the room, lounging on the couch with that careless elegance that concealed a ravenous nature. Klaus wore an unbuttoned shirt, revealing pale skin marked by tattoos that seemed to shift beneath the dim light. Five knew the truth behind that lethal beauty: every perfect line of his body was designed to tempt, to attract, to consume.

Klaus's transformation had begun after the apocalypse, when he had died so many times that something fundamental in his soul had fractured. The ghosts that had tormented him for years were no longer enough to satisfy his thirst for connection. His necromantic power had corrupted, evolved, until it became something more primitive: the need to feed on the vital energy of the living, on their desire, their passion.

But there was something different about Klaus lately. A pallor that wasn't due solely to his transformed nature, a tension at the edges of his smile that spoke of contained hunger. Five knew because he had been watching, because he had noticed the nights when Klaus went out and returned more radiant, fuller of stolen life. And he had also noticed how those outings had become less frequent, more spaced out, as if Klaus was fighting against his own nature.

"Are you going to stand there all night, or are you coming over here?" Klaus smiled without looking up from the book he pretended to read, but Five could detect the fatigue seeping through the cracks of his seductive mask. His lips curved with that dangerous familiarity that made the air thicken, but there was something forced in the gesture.

Five's stomach contracted with that familiar mixture of desire and terror that Klaus always awakened in him. He knew his brother's nature, knew exactly what it meant to approach, and yet he couldn't resist. It was like being a moth drawn to a flame he knew would consume him.

"When was the last time you fed?" The question came out more abrupt than Five had planned, cutting through the air like a knife.

Klaus tensed imperceptibly, his fingers tightening around the book so hard that Five could see his knuckles whiten. When he looked up, his eyes held that hungry gleam Five knew too well, but also something more: guilt seeping like blood from a poorly closed wound.

"Why would we talk about that?" Klaus tried to maintain his playful tone, but Five had learned to read between the lines of his perfect performance. He had studied every micro-expression of Klaus for years, memorizing every nuance of his lies.

Five approached slowly, feeling that magnetic attraction that always emanated from Klaus, but now he could detect the fissures in it. The unsated thirst made Klaus's power fluctuate like a flame about to extinguish. It was beautiful and terrifying at once, like watching a lesser god slowly bleeding out.

"Because you're starving yourself to death," Five sat on the edge of the couch, close enough to feel the feverish heat emanating from Klaus's skin, but maintaining a distance they both knew was temporary. "And because I can't stand watching you feed on others."

The confession hung in the air between them like an undetonated bomb, charged with all the nights Five had stayed awake, imagining Klaus with strangers, allowing others to touch that skin he longed to claim as his own. Klaus closed his eyes, and when he opened them, Five could see the entire war being fought within: hunger against love, need against protection, survival against sacrifice.

"Do you know what you're asking of me?" Klaus's voice cracked slightly, and Five felt as if something sharp was piercing his chest. "I can't feed on you, Five. Not you."

"Why not?"

Klaus remained silent for a long moment, his eyes lost somewhere beyond Five. When he finally spoke, his voice had a distant quality, as if he were reciting a condemnation.

"Because when a succubus truly bonds with someone, when they find their... definitive partner, everything changes. It's not just feeding, Five. It's becoming monogamous by nature. It means I could never touch another person that way again, never seek sustenance from others. And the need... the need becomes insatiable."

Five felt a shiver run down his spine, but not from fear.

"What does that mean exactly?"

Klaus looked at him directly then, and Five could see the genuine terror in his eyes.

"It means we would have to... be together constantly. Physically. The connection demands frequent, almost obsessive intimacy. It would be as if my survival literally depended on having you near, on touching you, on..." Klaus blushed, and Five had never seen him look so vulnerable, "making love to you practically every day. Forever."

Silence stretched between them as Five processed the implications. Klaus had been carrying this knowledge, knowing exactly what bonding with him would mean, and had chosen hunger instead of binding him that way.

"And you fear I couldn't handle it?" Five asked finally.

"I fear making you my prisoner," Klaus whispered. "I fear that once this happens, you won't have a choice anymore. That you'll become as dependent on the connection as I am."

Five moved closer, until he could see the small tension lines around Klaus's eyes.

"What if I told you that's exactly what I want?"

"Because..." Klaus ran a trembling hand through his hair, leaving disheveled strands that framed his face with a vulnerability that broke Five's heart. "Because when a succubus bonds that way, when they find their definitive partner, it's for all eternity. There are no divorces, no separations, no second chances. And the physical need becomes so intense that..." Klaus swallowed with difficulty, "we would basically have to be making love constantly. Your entire life would revolve around satisfying my hunger."

Five felt something primitive awaken in his chest at those words, a fierce possessiveness that surprised him with its intensity.

"And you think that would bother me?"

Klaus looked at him with enormous eyes.

"Five, you're talking about giving up your freedom, your independence, everything you are, just to become my permanent source of sustenance."

"No," Five moved closer until he could feel the feverish heat emanating from Klaus, "I'm talking about finding my purpose. You've already lost too much, sacrificed decades fighting against your nature because of me. Let me be the one who feeds you. Let me be completely yours."

Five felt something tighten in his chest to the point of physical pain. For weeks he had been watching Klaus weaken, refusing to take what he needed from him, but also unable to seek sustenance from others because he knew Five couldn't bear it. It was a vicious circle of love and self-destruction that was slowly killing them both.

"I've been avoiding you," Five confessed, his voice cracking at the edges like glass under pressure. "Not because I don't desire you, but because I can't stand seeing you like this. Hungry. Weakening yourself because of me. And because every time I imagine your hands on another body, your lips on other skin, I feel as if something were tearing out my entrails with bare hands."

"It's not your fault," Klaus sat up with less than his usual grace, and Five could see how exhaustion weighed on each of his movements like invisible chains. He approached until the air between them became dense, charged with electricity and unsatisfied need, but now Five could feel the desperation behind the seduction. "It's my choice."

"A choice that's killing you," Five closed his eyes, feeling how his own heart was tearing at the impossible situation they found themselves in. "And a choice that's driving me insane. Because every time you go out, every time you return with swollen lips and a stranger's scent embedded in your skin, I feel as if something vital were being ripped from my chest. As if every breath were an act of betrayal to what I feel for you."

Klaus placed a trembling hand on his cheek, and Five could feel how Klaus's skin was colder than normal, as if life were slowly filtering out of him like water from a cracked vessel.

"And what do you propose?" Klaus whispered, his voice barely audible, charged with hope so fragile that Five feared a sudden movement might shatter it. "That I take what I need from you and slowly consume you until there's nothing left? That I turn you into another victim of my damned nature?"

Five opened his eyes and met Klaus's, seeing in them all the pain and self-denial his succubus had been carrying like a personal cross. Klaus's eyes were wells of guilt and love in equal parts, and Five realized Klaus was sacrificing himself not only to protect him, but to protect himself from the possibility of harming the only person he truly loved.

"I propose we find a way. That we seek a balance where you can feed without destroying me, where I can give you what you need without losing you to others," Five covered Klaus's hand with his own, feeling that cold skin he loved so much, memorizing every line, every scar, every imperfection that made him human despite his supernatural nature.

Klaus's hand trembled against his cheek like a leaf in a storm.

"Five... that's impossible. My nature doesn't work that way. I can't simply decide to take less, or feed differently. I am what I am."

"Then let's change the rules," Five moved closer, until he could feel Klaus's irregular breath against his skin, until he could count every eyelash, every golden freckle on his face. "You once said I was the exception to all your rules."

Something changed in Klaus's eyes then, a spark of hope mixed with fear so deep it made Five want to protect him from the entire universe.

"Do you know what you're asking of me?" he whispered, his breath barely brushing Five's lips like a promise neither dared complete. "You're asking me to break everything I know about what I am. To trust that love can be stronger than centuries of instinct."

"I'm asking you to trust me," Five moved closer, until he could feel the erratic pulse beneath the translucent skin of Klaus's neck, until he could see the small tension lines around his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and impossible decisions. "I'm asking you to let me feed you without losing you to hunger or to others. To allow me to be yours in the only way that truly matters."

Klaus closed his eyes, and Five could see the internal battle reflected in every tense line of his face. His breathing had become irregular, his hands trembled slightly, and there was a vulnerability in his posture that contrasted violently with the predatory confidence he normally radiated.

When he opened his eyes again, there was fragile determination in them, like glass that had been repaired but still retained the fracture lines.

"If we do this... if we try this... there's no going back," Klaus trembled under Five's hands. "Once I bond with you that way, once my succubus nature recognizes you as my only partner, it will be impossible to be with anyone else. And you... you will change too. The connection will make you equally dependent, equally obsessive. You'll need to be with me as much as I'll need to be with you."

Five felt a dark satisfaction at those words.

"Perfect."

"Five, you don't understand. We're talking about needing each other physically every day. About not being able to be separated for more than a few hours without feeling real pain. About turning our relationship into something so intense that..."

"That it will be exactly what I've been wanting since I returned," Five interrupted, his voice rough with emotion. "Klaus, I've spent decades feeling empty, disconnected, like I was a stranger in my own life. The idea of needing you so much, of you needing me so much... that doesn't terrify me. It completes me."

"Then bond with me," Five interrupted, his voice rough with contained emotion and desire he had been denying for too long. "Make me yours in the only way that matters. Take me completely."

Klaus trembled as if Five's words had been a physical blow, and Five could feel his succubus's resistance slowly crumbling, like a dam giving way to pressure accumulated for too long.

His hands found Klaus's hips with a desperation that bordered on violence, fingers digging into flesh through the thin fabric of his clothes, drawing him until there was no space between them, until he could feel every tense line of his body, every labored breath, every tremor of contained need.

"Five," Klaus moaned his name like a blasphemous prayer, like a plea containing decades of denied desire. "You don't know what this means to me. What you mean."

"Then show me," Five captured his lips in a kiss that tasted of desperation and broken promises, of need and hope in equal parts.

This kiss was different from anything they had shared before. Five could feel the exact moment Klaus surrendered, when his succubus nature fully awakened like a dragon uncoiling after a long slumber. It was like being touched by liquid electricity, as if every nerve ending in his body had suddenly come alive.

Klaus kissed him with centuries-old hunger, with a need so primitive and desperate that Five felt as if he were being devoured from within. But there was also a tenderness that completely contradicted his predatory nature, as if Klaus were trying to memorize every second, every sensation, every taste.

Five felt the pull then, that subtle suction on his essence that should have terrified him. Instead, he surrendered to it completely, opening every defense, every barrier he had built over decades of survival. He let Klaus take what he needed while he lost himself in the sensation of being truly desired, truly needed in a way that went beyond the physical or emotional.

It was as if Klaus were drinking directly from his soul, but instead of emptiness, Five felt a completeness he had never experienced. As if feeding Klaus was feeding him too in some inexplicable and perfect way.

Klaus pulled away slightly to breathe, his eyes now glowing with an inner fire Five hadn't seen before. His skin had regained color, a golden flush that seemed to radiate from within, his lips were redder, fuller, and there was a new energy vibrating in every line of his body like high-tension wires.

"How do you feel?" Klaus whispered, his hands trembling as he traced the contour of Five's face with a reverence that bordered on adoration. It was as if he were checking that Five was still intact, still real and solid under his fingers.

Five considered the question seriously, taking an internal inventory of his sensations. He should feel drained, should feel that something vital had been torn from him like an organ extracted without anesthesia. Instead, he felt... transformed.

"Like I've found my place in the universe," he answered honestly, surprised by the absolute truth of his words. "Like all the broken pieces of me had finally found where they fit."

Klaus smiled, and this time there was nothing forced in the gesture. It was pure joy mixed with relief and something that looked dangerously like true love.

"And you?" Five asked, his hands tracing the line of Klaus's spine, memorizing the new warmth emanating from his skin.

"Like I can finally breathe," Klaus moved closer, until their foreheads touched and Five could see every golden fleck in his eyes. "Like I'd been drowning for years and finally found the surface."

Five felt a wave of protection so intense it made him dizzy. The idea that Klaus had been suffering in silence, denying himself the sustenance he needed out of love for him, filled him with a fierce tenderness he didn't know he possessed.

"Never again," he murmured against Klaus's lips. "You'll never go hungry again. You'll never have to seek sustenance from others."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Klaus smiled and kissed him again, this kiss slower, deeper, as if they had all the time in the world to explore each other. Five lost himself in the sensation of Klaus's hands roaming his body with new familiarity, as if his succubus were claiming territory that had always been his but he had never dared to touch.

When they finally separated, both were breathing heavily, their bodies intertwined in a way that suggested mutual and absolute possession.

In the stillness that followed, Five found himself looking at Klaus with new fascination. The succubus had transformed before his eyes: where there had been sickly pallor, now there was a subtle glow beneath his skin, as if liquid light were running through his veins. His eyes had a different depth, richer, like ink wells that now reflected stars.

"Don't you feel... empty?" Klaus asked, his voice tinged with concern as he curled against him. His fingers traced nervous patterns over Five's chest, as if he wanted to make sure his heart was still beating with the same strength.

Five considered the question with the seriousness it deserved. Throughout his life, he had defined his identity by what he could control, by what he could protect, by what he could calculate. He should feel diminished by having surrendered part of his essence so willingly. Instead, he felt... expanded.

"No," he finally answered, surprised by the certainty in his voice. "I feel... connected. Like I'm part of something bigger than myself. Like I'd found the other half of an equation I didn't know was incomplete."

Klaus lifted his head to look at him, and Five could see relief mixed with something like wonder in his eyes.

"This has never happened before," Klaus confessed, his voice barely a whisper charged with reverence. "When I feed, I always take. I always leave the person a little less than they were, like a vampire stealing life drop by drop. But with you... it's as if I had exchanged instead of stolen. As if you had given me something and I had given you something in return."

Five felt something warm expand in his chest at those words, a primitive satisfaction that came from being able to nourish someone he loved.

"Maybe that's the difference," he murmured, tangling his fingers in Klaus's hair, delighting in the silky texture that now seemed to have life of its own. "Maybe love changes the rules, even for succubi."

Klaus smiled, and this time the expression was pure and genuine, without traces of the seductive mask he usually wore as armor.

"Then I guess I won't have to go out looking for sustenance elsewhere anymore," he said, his eyes shining with a mixture of relief and possession that made something primitive awaken in Five's chest.

"Good," Five responded, his voice rougher than he had intended, charged with a possessiveness he didn't know he had. "Because the idea of sharing you with anyone else would have driven me completely insane."

Klaus laughed, a rich and genuine sound that Five knew he had become addicted to hearing.

"Then I guess we're now exclusive territory to each other," Klaus murmured, and there was something almost fierce in the satisfaction that lit his eyes like golden fire.

Five felt the truth of those words resonate in every fiber of his being. Klaus was right: this had been inevitable from the moment they found each other again after the apocalypse. The obsession, the magnetic attraction that had been devouring him from within, the need to be close to the point of self-destruction... everything had been part of a larger force that had finally managed to reclaim them both.

Five had become his sweetest addiction, and Klaus had finally stopped fighting against the need for the next dose.

Chapter Text

Two years had passed since Allison pressed the reset button. Three years since the universe unraveled like wet clay between a careless potter's fingers, reshaping itself without consulting them, without asking if they wanted another chance or preferred definitive oblivion.

At first, the silence was deafening.

Klaus remembered that night, the last time they'd almost died, another tally mark on an endless list, stepping out of the elevator with his siblings into an empty park. They found only a monument to the hotel and their father, surrounded by a silence so absolute that for a moment he believed he'd gone completely insane. The voices of the dead, those constant and unwanted companions that had populated every second of his existence since birth, were simply... gone.

He didn't notice at first. Luther and Five were arguing, Luther with a completely human body now, as if Reginald's grotesque experiment had never existed, and Klaus was too shocked to process it. Or perhaps it was because of Five.

Five was no longer that old man trapped in an adolescent body. Now he was a man of twenty-two, maybe twenty-three. And Klaus had been right: adult Five was devastatingly beautiful. More mature lines, defined jaw, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. Lean but muscular, compact, efficient as a well-honed blade. He could finally walk into a bar without being thrown out, exist in a body that corresponded with the decades he'd lived through the apocalypse.

But when Five tried to use his powers and failed, Klaus finally felt it.

For the first time in his conscious life, he experienced true silence. And it was terrifying in ways he'd never anticipated.

Judging by everyone's stricken faces, that feeling was shared.

For three full months, the Hargreeves lived as normal people or as normal as people who remembered destroying the world on multiple occasions could be. No spontaneous tentacles, no accidental time travel, no conversations with ghosts in the supermarket checkout line. It was disconcerting. Peaceful. Unbearably boring.

And frustrating, because just when Klaus had learned to use his powers, they'd been cruelly stripped away by the same man who'd first tortured him into addiction and then taught him to control them, though he'd murdered Klaus several times in the process.

Then one October morning, everything came back.

Klaus was making coffee when the first ghost appeared in his kitchen: a confused elderly woman looking for her husband, dead for decades. He screamed, knocked over the coffee pot, and then burst into hysterical laughter when he realized his powers had returned with all the subtlety of a hammer against glass.

The others reported similar experiences. Allison accidentally rumored a rude customer. Diego nearly impaled a thief when his knives flew from his belt. Luther punched through a wall while waking up, though his body remained human. Viktor nearly destroyed his bar from a nightmare. Lila discovered she had laser vision, obliterating her parents' living room.

And Five had discovered his powers when he heard Klaus scream, blinking from the shower to the kitchen without thinking.

Completely naked.

Klaus couldn't stop staring.

What cruel irony, because Klaus had found his own path in this reconstructed world. He worked in a coffee shop, without educational credentials, he couldn't aspire to more and had been sober for two months when his powers returned. He lived in relative peace.

With Five as his roommate.

For a while, he tried to ignore the voices that returned with a vengeance. That resistance didn't last long. Finally, he surrendered and decided to use them, becoming a consulting medium. A job that sounded ridiculous until he started solving cold cases for the police and helping families find peace with lost loved ones.

But that work came at a cost.

His powers had stabilized after the reset or perhaps it was the sobriety, he'd never know. The voices were clearer, more focused. No longer the disorganized chaos of his youth. He could hold coherent conversations with spirits, control when to manifest them physically.

But that clarity came with a terrible price: now he fully understood the pain of each lost soul that sought him out. Every murder, every accident, every traumatic death was seared into his psyche like fire against paper.

Meditation techniques helped. Mindfulness, controlled breathing, carefully constructed mental barriers gave him tools to keep from losing his sanity. But each case wore him down. Each traumatized spirit he channeled left fragments of their agony embedded in Klaus's mind, shards of glass that never completely healed.

The worst part was the loneliness.

His siblings saw that he was better, more stable, less chaotic than in his addicted and self-destructive youth. They didn't see the constant effort required to keep those voices organized. They didn't understand the emotional exhaustion of absorbing the pain of the dead day after day.

He was sober. He could use his powers. But emotionally, he was spent.

And it wasn't just the consequences of his powers, it was his own feelings. Feelings he wouldn't admit under torture. Slowly, that mask of strength was beginning to crack.

Tempting him. Relapse would be so easy. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been close, but every time it happened, Five was always there.

Like his goddamn savior.

Making it impossible to bury his feelings.

Living with Five had been both their idea, more his than Five's, but a practical decision that became comfortable over time. A spacious apartment in the city, large enough for privacy but not so large they felt isolated.

Five traveled frequently for work, disappeared for days or weeks on missions he could never discuss, but he always came back. Home. To Klaus.

Klaus had his local practice, his routine of consultations and spiritual sessions that filled his days with the kind of purpose he'd never believed he deserved.

And somewhere between moving in together and establishing domestic routines, who bought groceries, who washed dishes, who set the thermostat too low, something fundamental had shifted between them.

Klaus couldn't identify exactly when he stopped seeing Five as his brother and started seeing him as... something more.

Maybe it was the first time Five returned from a particularly dangerous mission. Exhausted, injured, dragging himself through the door at three in the morning with a bullet wound in his arm he'd "handled" with staples and cheap vodka. Klaus found him in the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood across white tiles.

"Let me," Klaus took the needle from his trembling hands.

"I can do it myself."

"Of course you can. You're Five Hargreeves, the man who survived the apocalypse alone." Klaus extracted fragments of shrapnel embedded too deep, his fingers surprisingly steady. "But you don't have to."

Five made sounds he would never admit to, small gasps of pain that turned to sighs when Klaus pressed exactly where the tension accumulated.

"Why do you do this?" Five's voice was hoarse with exhaustion and something else neither wanted to name.

"Because someone has to take care of you." Klaus bandaged the wound with hands that didn't tremble despite having channeled three traumatized spirits that afternoon. "And apparently, I'm the only one stupid enough to try."

Five caught his wrist then, blood-stained fingers wrapping around his pulse as if verifying he was real.

"You're not stupid." There was anger in his voice, but also something raw and vulnerable Klaus almost never heard. "You're... you're the only thing that makes coming home matter."

Klaus's breath caught.

He tried to make a joke, deflect as he always did when things got too real. But the words stuck in his throat when he saw the way Five looked at him, like Klaus was water in the desert, like he was the only precious thing in a world Five had watched destroy itself multiple times.

That was six months ago.

Since then, Klaus had been hyperaware of every casual touch, every glance that lasted a second too long, every moment their routines intertwined in ways that felt too intimate for simple roommates.

The air between them had grown thick with unspoken things. Klaus found himself inventing reasons to brush past Five in the narrow kitchen, their bodies aligning for a heartbeat that felt electric. He noticed how Five's gaze would linger on him when he thought Klaus wasn't looking, tracking the movement of his hands, the curve of his throat, the way his hair fell across his eyes.

It was maddening. This constant awareness, this hunger that had nowhere to go.

For Five, living with Klaus had been equal parts relief and torture.

He noticed things about Klaus he shouldn't notice. Things no brother should catalog with such obsessive detail.

The way Klaus moved through the apartment with an unconscious grace that bordered on feline. How he bit his lower lip when concentrating on reading, leaving the skin slightly reddened. The elegant line of his neck when he threw his head back to laugh, that pale throat that seemed to beg to be marked, claimed, worshipped in ways Five only allowed himself to think about in the darkest moments of night.

Five had spent decades in the apocalypse perfecting the art of denial, of burying feelings so deep that even he couldn't reach them most of the time.

It wasn't love. It couldn't be love.

Klaus was the only one who'd thanked him for trying to save them, even though they'd only caused more damage. Klaus was his family, his brother, adoptive, yes, but brother nonetheless. Even if his feelings bore no resemblance to what he felt for Luther, Diego, or Viktor. Risking such a stable relationship for selfish feelings was unthinkable.

Except Five did think about it. All the goddamn time.

He thought about it when Klaus emerged from the shower, skin flushed and damp, a towel slung low on his hips. He thought about it when Klaus laughed at his dry observations, eyes crinkling with genuine delight. He thought about it late at night when he heard Klaus moving in the next room, wondered if Klaus ever thought about him the same way, if Klaus ever lay awake aching with want.

The tension was becoming unbearable. Five found himself taking longer missions, staying away for weeks, trying to put distance between himself and this consuming need. But it never worked. He always came back. Always found himself at their door, key in hand, heart pounding at the thought of seeing Klaus again.

And Klaus, who'd spent years feeling too much, who'd used drugs to silence not just the voices but also his own complicated feelings about his dysfunctional family and Five in particular, had learned not to examine too closely why Five's presence made him feel safer than anything else in his life.

Why the sound of Five's key in the door after a long mission made something in his chest loosen with relief.

Why he slept better on nights he knew Five was in the next room.

Why sometimes he lay awake listening to Five's breathing through the thin walls, finding comfort in that steady rhythm, imagining what it would be like to hear it up close, to feel the rise and fall of Five's chest beneath his palm.

Neither of them spoke about the fact that they no longer felt like brothers. Words had power, and saying it aloud would make it real in ways neither was ready to face.

So they continued their careful dance of almost-but-not-quite, of glances that lasted a second too long, of casual touches charged with electricity, of conversations that brushed against emotional intimacy but never completely crossed it.

Meanwhile, Klaus sought relief in places where he could surrender completely without having to explain why he needed it so badly.

Places like the Élysée.

His darkest secret, alongside his growing feelings for Five.

Only after two years of living together, the situation was becoming unbearable.

Torturous.

But everything would change that April night.

**

Five had a mission. Simple enough: infiltrate an exclusive club in the financial district where classified information supposedly changed hands between expensive drinks and discreet encounters. The CIA suspected a mid-level analyst was selling state secrets, and the Élysée, with its select membership of politicians, CEOs, and power players, was the perfect venue for such transactions.

He'd spent three weeks establishing his cover. Max Petrov, Russian businessman with interests in cryptocurrency and a reputation for absolute discretion. The membership had cost a fortune in black budget funds, but it was worth it when he finally gained access.

The club was exactly what he'd expected: opulence bordering on obscene, designed to make people accustomed to luxury feel comfortable surrendering to their darkest desires. Dim lighting created pockets of intimacy. Ambient music with pulsing bass vibrated through the floor. The scent of incense mixed with something more carnal hung in the air.

And masks everywhere.

Five had chosen a simple but effective Venetian mask, silver with minimal black designs, covering from his forehead to just below his eyes, extending at the edges to his jawline. Enough to protect his identity without drawing too much attention. He'd dyed his hair dark blond with washable dye and wore brown contact lenses that completely changed his gaze.

It was Friday night. His third visit to the club. The target still hadn't appeared, which meant another night of tedious surveillance.

Five had positioned himself on one of the elevated floors overlooking the common area, a strategic point where he could observe without being observed.

And then he saw him.

Five's world stopped completely.

Klaus was crossing the club's common area, and it felt like someone had ripped the air from his lungs.

Klaus wore lingerie that left little to the imagination: a black lace bodysuit so delicate it was practically transparent, revealing every line of his body like art designed for torture. Leather garters connected to fishnet stockings. A simple collar around his neck, no leash yet, but the promise of ownership awakened something dark and possessive in Five's chest.

But it wasn't the near-complete nudity that pinned Five in place.

It was the expression on Klaus's face.

Klaus moved with that confidence Five recognized from home, that natural grace Klaus had when he felt comfortable in his own skin. But there was something more. Something in the way his shoulders were relaxed, in how his breathing was deep and steady.

Klaus looked at peace.

In ways Five rarely saw him at the apartment.

What the fuck is Klaus doing here?

Paralyzed by shock, Five watched as Klaus approached an older dominant, early forties, gray hair, hands that moved with the confidence of years of experience. He watched how Klaus tilted his head slightly, how he smiled with a sweetness that twisted Five's stomach with something he refused to name.

He watched as Klaus followed the man toward one of the semi-private areas separated by sheer crimson curtains.

And then Five made the mistake of following them.

He shouldn't have.

The mission had nothing to do with Klaus. He should have stayed at his position, should have continued surveillance. But his feet moved before his brain could stop them, carrying him closer to those curtains, close enough to see without being seen.

Close enough to watch as the dominant began to work.

Five had killed people. He'd survived forty-five years in an apocalypse. He'd done things that haunted him in the dark of night.

But nothing had prepared him for seeing Klaus like this.

The dominant was binding Klaus with red rope, creating patterns that were as much art as restraint. And Klaus... Klaus was melting under that touch. His breathing deepened with each knot. His eyes closed. That tension Five saw in him every goddamn day, the stiffness of his shoulders when the voices became too much, the tense line of his jaw when he struggled to maintain his mental barriers, all of it was beginning to dissolve.

Five should leave. Walk away, return to his mission, forget he ever saw this.

But he couldn't move. Couldn't look away.

Because he was witnessing something he'd never seen before: Klaus completely at peace.

The dominant began the session proper, gentle flogging that left pink lines on Klaus's pale skin. Klaus responded with sounds that made Five's mouth go dry, his body arching in the ropes in ways simultaneously obscene and beautiful.

But Five saw what the dominant didn't see.

He saw how Klaus tensed his left shoulder slightly when the flogger struck too high. He saw how his fingers curved into small fists when he needed more pressure but wasn't receiving it. He saw every micro-expression that crossed Klaus's face, signals the dominant was missing completely because he didn't know Klaus, hadn't spent two years memorizing every gesture, every expression.

The dominant was competent. Technically correct.

But he was wrong.

Because despite Klaus being lost in sensation, there was a palpable tension, as if he couldn't completely surrender to the moment, to the pain, to the pleasure. As if some part of him remained locked away, unreachable, desperately seeking something this stranger couldn't provide.

And that realization, along with the image of Klaus bound, vulnerable, searching for something this stranger couldn't give him, made something fundamental break in Five's chest and psyche.

I could give him what he needs. The thought arrived uninvited, without permission. But once it was there, he couldn't shake it.

He'd spent two years living with Klaus. Two years observing, yes, observing, more than he should, more than was appropriate. He knew exactly where Klaus carried tension. He knew what kind of pressure calmed him when he was anxious. He knew Klaus responded better to words murmured low than to shouted orders. He knew Klaus needed constant physical contact to feel anchored and safe.

He knew all this because he'd been paying attention in ways a brother shouldn't pay attention.

And now, seeing Klaus in the hands of someone who couldn't read him properly, he felt something that went beyond jealousy into entirely different territory.

Mine.

The word resonated in his mind with the force of an undeniable truth. Klaus was his, not in the sense of ownership, but in the sense that Five knew him, understood him, had memorized every detail during two years of cohabitation that had become something far more complicated than simple companionship.

The session continued. He watched every second with an intensity that should have burned holes through the curtains. Watched how the dominant eventually freed Klaus from the ropes, how he provided competent but uninspired aftercare, a blanket, oodb, some soft words that sounded more like protocol oo genuine care.

He watched how Klaus wrapped himself in the blanket and curled up, and he could see, even at this distance, the residual frustration in those oodb eyes. That feeling of need not quite satisfied.

The dominant eventually said goodbye, leaving Klaus alone with his thoughts and his dissatisfaction.

As Five stood in the shadows with his silver mask and his heart pounding so hard he was certain everyone in the club could hear it, he felt something crystallize and shatter in his chest.

He couldn’t do anything about it. Not tonight.

He needed to think. He needed to process. He needed to figure out what this meant and what he was going to do with this information.

But as he finally walked away from those curtains, as he forced his feet to carry him back to his surveillance point, Five knew one thing with absolute certainty:

This wasn’t over.

It hadn’t even begun.

**

Five drove home that night feeling like his world had tilted dangerously off its axis. The mission had been a complete failure, his target never appeared, and Five had been too distracted to conduct proper surveillance. He'd have to invent some excuse for his supervisors.

But none of that mattered compared to what he'd seen.

Klaus at the Élysée. Seeking... what exactly? Pain? Control? Escape?

Five hit the steering wheel in frustration.

How long has he been doing this? How many of his "Friday nights with friends" have actually been this?

He mentally reviewed the past months. Klaus went out almost every Friday, returning late with vague excuses about having seen movies or grabbed drinks with people Five never met. He'd assumed Klaus was rebuilding his social life.

He'd never questioned it. Never pressed.

Because respecting Klaus's privacy was important. Because he had no right to catalog every hour of Klaus's day. Because if he started asking questions, Klaus might start asking questions back, and Five wasn't ready to explain why he cared so much about where Klaus went.

The apartment was dark when he arrived. Soft light filtering beneath Klaus's door confirmed he wasn't asleep.

For a moment Five stood in the hallway between their rooms, staring at that closed door.

He raised his hand. Almost knocked.

What could he say without exposing himself and his feelings?

Could he ask about the club? Admit he'd been there? Confess he couldn't stop thinking about how Klaus had looked bound in those ropes?

No. Absolutely not.

Five lowered his hand and forced himself to walk away.

He showered in near-scalding water, trying to burn the images from his mind. It didn't work. All he could see was Klaus, beautiful, vulnerable, searching for something Five desperately wanted to give him but couldn't.

You can't, he told himself firmly while toweling off with rough movements. Klaus is your brother. Your roommate. Your family. You can't cross that line.

But Five had already crossed that line in his mind months ago. He'd gone from appropriately fraternal thoughts to fantasies that definitely weren't. He'd memorized every detail of Klaus, the way he moved, how he smelled after showering, the sound of his laugh, the texture of his skin on the rare occasions they touched casually.

He'd convinced himself that as long as he kept these thoughts private, as long as he never acted on them, it was fine. He could control it.

Except now he knew Klaus went to the Élysée. That Klaus actively sought the type of dynamic Five had been fantasizing about having with him.

And the temptation to do something about it was almost unbearable.

Five got into bed, staring at the ceiling in the darkness. His mind was already working through the problem analytically, as it did with everything.

Option 1: Forget he saw Klaus at the club. Continue as if nothing had changed.

Impossible. He already knew that was impossible.

Option 2: Confront Klaus directly. Have an honest conversation.

And say what exactly? "Hey Klaus, I saw you at a BDSM club and I've casually been in love with you for years, want to talk about it?"

Option 3: Do something about it.

Five closed his eyes tightly, hating himself for even considering what his mind was suggesting.

He could go back. As Max. With the mask, the contact lenses, the dyed hair. Klaus wouldn't recognize him. How could he? Five had been careful with his disguise. He always was.

He could observe more, learn more about what Klaus needed. And if the opportunity arose... he could offer himself. As a dominant. As a stranger. As someone who could give Klaus what he needed without risking their relationship at home.

It was a terrible idea. Manipulative and probably destructive.

But as Five lay awake in the darkness, listening to the distant sounds of Klaus moving in the next room, he couldn't stop thinking:

What if I could be the person who gives Klaus peace? What if I could be what he's looking for?

It was selfish. It was wrong.

But Five Hargreeves had survived forty-five years in an apocalypse by being pragmatic about his needs. And this need, to touch Klaus, to care for him, to matter to him in ways that went beyond the fraternal, was stronger than anything else he'd ever felt.

Just once, he told himself. I'll go back just one more time. To observe. To understand. That's all.

It was a lie, and Five knew it.

But in the darkness of his room, with the sound of Klaus's breathing barely audible through the walls, he allowed himself to believe that lie.

**

He didn't sleep that night.

He lay in his bed staring at the ceiling as shadows from occasional headlights slid across the walls. His mind, that mind that had calculated impossible temporal equations, that had performed assassination missions with surgical precision, that had maintained his sanity through decades of apocalyptic solitude, now ran in obsessive circles around a single image:

Klaus bound in red ropes, with that expression of almost-peace on his face.

When exactly did this start?

He forced himself to trace the origin of his feelings with the same methodology he used to analyze field intelligence. He needed to understand how he'd reached this point where the idea of deceiving Klaus, of constructing a false identity just to touch him, didn't seem immediately monstrous.

It had all started from the moment they began living together.

They'd signed the lease three weeks after the reset. Luther had left to search for Sloane. Diego was living with Lila, expecting their first daughter. Allison had disappeared to Los Angeles. Viktor had his bar in Canada.

Five and Klaus had found themselves alone, two leftover pieces of a family that had scattered once more.

"We could get a place," Klaus had suggested casually over breakfast at a cheap diner. "Split the rent. You travel all the time for work, I work weird hours. It would make sense. Economically speaking."

For a moment, he'd thought about refusing. Living alone had been his plan since regaining his adult body. Privacy. Space. Not having to explain the nightmares or the scars or the strange habits he'd developed during decades of survival.

But then Klaus had smiled, that bright, slightly false smile he used when hiding uncertainty, and added: "Besides, someone needs to make sure you eat something besides coffee and sarcasm."

And Five had found himself saying yes.

That should have been the first sign. I couldn't imagine living in this city without Klaus nearby.

Cohabitation had been surprisingly easy. Klaus was tidy in unexpected ways, his personal spaces were chaotic, but shared areas were always impeccable. Five was methodical with household tasks, creating systems Klaus followed without complaint.

They developed rhythms.

Five woke at 5:30 AM to run. Klaus slept until 8:00 AM unless he had an early consultation. Five made coffee, always two cups, because Klaus would eventually emerge, disheveled, half-asleep, and beautiful in ways Five didn't allow himself to think about too much.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Klaus had murmured one morning, shuffling toward the kitchen in silk pajama pants that hung dangerously low on his hips.

Five passed him his mug, coffee with cream and two sugars, exactly how he liked it, without looking up from his laptop.

"It's almost noon, Klaus."

"I worked late. Difficult case." Klaus dropped into the chair beside Five, close enough for their elbows to brush. "Seven-year-old girl. Car accident. She's still looking for her dog."

Klaus's voice was carefully neutral, but Five knew that tone. He used it when cases affected him more than he wanted to admit.

"Did she find it?"

"Eventually. The dog survived, he's with her grandmother now." Klaus took a long sip of coffee. "I had to tell her it was okay to let go. That the dog would be fine without her."

Five closed his laptop. Klaus never asked for comfort directly, but Five had learned to read the signs.

"You did the right thing."

"Did I?" Klaus laughed without humor. "I lied to a dead child so she could 'move on' or whatever. Except she was seven years old and probably doesn't even understand she's dead."

Five reached out, a movement that came without conscious thought, and pressed his fingers against the back of Klaus's neck, exactly where tension always accumulated after difficult cases.

Klaus gasped softly at the contact. Five felt the moment his muscles began to relax under his touch.

"You gave her peace," he said, his thumb tracing small circles at the base of Klaus's skull. "That's what you do, Klaus. You give them peace when no one else can."

Klaus closed his eyes, leaning into Five's touch in ways that made something in Five's chest tighten painfully.

"Thank you."

Five kept his hand there for thirty more seconds, counted every one, before forcing himself to pull away. Because if he didn't stop, he'd keep touching. He'd slide his fingers through Klaus's hair, trace the line of his jaw, learn the texture of every inch of skin Klaus was willing to offer him.

He'd started touching Klaus more after that. Always with excuses. Always casual.

A shoulder massage when Klaus was tense. Fingers brushing hair from his face when he was reading. Hands holding Klaus's elbow to guide him when he was too tired to see properly.

Small, appropriately fraternal touches.

A complete lie.

But without a doubt, his breaking point, where he could no longer deny his growing feelings, was when Klaus tried to bring someone home.

He still remembered it, as fresh in his memory as if it had happened yesterday.

Klaus had brought home a date, a man named Daniel or Derek or something. Five had been in the kitchen when they arrived, and he'd had to listen through the walls as they laughed in Klaus's room.

Five had gripped his coffee mug so hard the handle broke, cutting his palm. He'd let it bleed for five full minutes before bandaging it, enjoying the pain as a distraction from the irrational jealousy burning through his chest.

Klaus had eventually emerged, alone, dismissing the guy with "Sorry, it's not working out."

Those words had brought enormous relief Five forced himself to hide.

Klaus had found Five in the kitchen, staring at blood in the sink.

"What happened?"

"Accident." Five's voice was sharper than he'd intended.

Klaus had taken his hand without asking permission, studying the cut with a frown. "Do you need stitches?"

"It's fine."

"It's not fine. Wait here."

Klaus had disappeared, returning with his first aid kit. He'd cleaned Five's wound with surprisingly steady hands, applied medical glue with practiced precision.

"Why are you so angry?" Klaus asked as he worked, his voice soft.

"I'm not angry."

"Five. I know you. Something's bothering you."

You. You bother me. The fact that you bring men home bothers me. The fact that I can't be one of those men bothers me. The fact that I want you in ways that definitely aren't fraternal bothers me.

Instead he'd said: "Work. Difficult mission."

Klaus had pressed his lips into a thin line that meant he didn't believe Five but wasn't going to push. He'd finished bandaging the hand, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary.

"You know you can talk to me, right? About anything."

Not about this. Never about this.

For a long second they'd held each other's gaze, as if wanting to say something.

In the end, it had been Five who looked away and pulled his hand back.

Full of frustration, pain, and longing.

Longing that tormented him for months until six months ago when he almost confessed everything.

Five had returned from a particularly brutal mission in Eastern Europe. Three weeks undercover, living in conditions that reminded him too much of the apocalypse. When he'd finally made it home, exhausted, injured, running on adrenaline and caffeine, he'd found Klaus awake at 3 AM, waiting for him.

"I thought you were coming back tomorrow."

"Mission ended early."

"You're bleeding."

"Somewhat."

Klaus had led him to the bathroom, worked in silence to clean the knife wound in his shoulder. And Five, exhausted beyond rational thought, had allowed himself to simply feel.

The warmth of Klaus's hands against his skin. The intense focus on Klaus's face as he worked. The way he bit his lower lip when concentrated. The scent of his shampoo, something with lavender that Five had memorized without meaning to.

"Klaus," Five had said, and his voice had sounded hoarse even to his own ears.

"Mm?"

"I need to tell you something."

Klaus had paused, his fingers still against Five's shoulder. "I'm listening."

And Five had almost done it. Almost confessed everything, the years of wanting, of watching, of memorizing every detail. Almost ruined everything because he was too tired to keep his defenses properly raised.

"You're... you're important to me..."

He cursed how his voice trembled, as if he really were a teenager.

But then Klaus had smiled, that soft, genuine smile he reserved for private moments, and said: "You're important to me too, Five. I know you worry about me when you take these dangerous missions. But I'm okay. And now that you're home, we're okay."

And Five had closed his mouth, swallowing the words he could never say.

Because Klaus had misunderstood. He'd heard "I care about you" when Five had been about to say "I love you in a way I shouldn't."

And maybe that was for the best. Maybe Klaus giving him an out was the universe telling him some truths were better kept buried.

So for six months he'd tried, really tried, to keep his feelings to himself.

Until he saw Klaus at the club.

And now it was all about that moment, that expression of peace and longing.

Sending all his efforts to be a good brother straight to hell.

Not when seeing Klaus in that vulnerable state made him hard.

He reasonably knew he had no right to feel that way, but that didn't stop the desire to be the one who gave Klaus peace and attention.

And when a new Friday arrived, Five arrived at the Élysée with a different purpose.

***

During the week, he'd continued his obsessive research. He'd read entire forums on shibari techniques, memorized every nerve pressure point that should be avoided, studied instructional videos until he could visualize every knot with his eyes closed.

He'd practiced.

In his apartment, when Klaus was working, Five had bought quality ropes, soft, natural jute, exactly the recommended thickness, and practiced basic patterns on mannequins he'd discreetly ordered and kept secret in his room, in the room that belonged to Max.

His hands, trained for decades to kill with surgical precision, now learned to create beauty with restraint.

And tonight, Five wasn't coming just to observe.

He arrived early, as always, settling into his usual spot. But this time, when Klaus entered the club at 10:20 PM wearing an emerald green lingerie set that made his eyes shine even at this distance, Five didn't stay in the shadows.

He stood. Walked toward the common area.

And waited.

Klaus was evaluating the available dominants when his gaze crossed with Five's.

Except Klaus didn't see Five. He saw Max Petrov, the mysterious Russian with blond hair and brown eyes who always wore that intriguing silver mask and never spoke.

Five had perfected every detail of his disguise during the week. Besides the dyed hair and contact lenses, he now wore different clothes, dark leather pants that fit perfectly and a black shirt with the first two buttons undone. He'd added a different watch, rings he'd never normally wear, small details that completely transformed his appearance.

And he'd perfected his body language. Five naturally moved with military precision, every gesture economical and efficient. For Max, he'd softened those movements, added a casual languidness that suggested confidence without aggression.

Klaus noticed. Of course he noticed.

Five saw the exact moment Klaus's interest awakened, that slight tilt of head, that quick but exhaustive assessment Klaus made when something captured his attention.

Five held his position, not approaching, simply being available. Because he'd learned in his research that consent began here, in this moment of choice. Klaus needed to come to him, needed to make that decision for himself.

And after a moment that felt like eternity compressed into seconds, Klaus began walking toward him.

There's no going back after this.

Klaus stopped in front of him, close enough for Five to see every detail, the barely visible freckles on his nose, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks under the club's dim lights, the visible pulse at his throat.

"Hello." Klaus's voice was soft but with a touch of curiosity. "I've seen you here before. Always watching, never participating."

Five nodded slowly, maintaining his silent promise not to speak. He'd brought a small whiteboard, a detail he'd seen other non-verbal dominants use at the club, and now wrote in handwriting carefully different from his normal script:

I was waiting for the right person.

Klaus read the words and something in his expression softened.

"And you think you've found them?"

Five held his gaze for a long moment, letting the silence speak for him. Then he wrote:

I think I've found someone who deserves to be seen properly.

It was risky, too direct perhaps. But Five had observed enough to know Klaus responded to emotional honesty, even when wrapped in the club's formal protocol.

And he'd been right. He saw how Klaus's eyes widened slightly, how his breathing deepened barely perceptibly.

"I don't speak Russian," Klaus said, and there was nervousness now mixed with his interest. "If that's your language..."

Five shook his head and wrote:

You don't need to speak anything. You only need to feel. And use your safeword if you need it.

"Red to stop," Klaus recited automatically, the protocol so integrated it was second nature. "Yellow to adjust. Green to continue."

Five nodded and extended his hand.

An invitation, not an order.

Klaus took it.

And Five, with the full weight of what he was about to do pressing against his conscience like lead, guided him toward one of the private rooms.

**

The room Five had reserved was larger than the ones Klaus usually chose. Five had been specific in his requirements when he'd made the reservation that afternoon. He needed space to work properly, needed anchor points in specific places, needed lighting he could adjust exactly how he wanted it.

And above all, he needed privacy. He wasn't willing to let anyone see Klaus vulnerable.

The club staff, accustomed to particular requests, had delivered everything without questions for a considerable price. But Five was a field agent, an assassin whose hands never trembled, and he earned enough from his work.

Now, as he closed the door behind them, he took a moment to center himself.

This was real. He was actually doing this. He was about to touch Klaus in ways he'd fantasized about for months, and Klaus had no idea who he really was.

It's deception, part of him protested, the part that sounded like Dolores. It's manipulation. You should stop this now.

But another part, the one that had watched Klaus in the hands of other dominants who couldn't read him properly, who'd seen that residual frustration in his eyes after every sesión, argued something different.

I can give him what he needs. I can be what he's looking for. Just here. Just in this space where the rules are different.

Five moved toward the center of the room where he'd placed his red ropes, because he'd noticed Klaus responded better to red, something about how it looked against his pale skin that made his eyes soften.

Klaus followed, and Five could feel his nervousness mixed with anticipation.

Five raised his whiteboard:

First time with a new dominant?

"In this club, yes," Klaus admitted. "I usually have... regulars, I guess. But none of them have felt quite right lately."

Five wrote:

Tell me what you need.

Klaus blinked, clearly surprised by the direct question. "Most don't ask. They just... start."

I'm not most.

That pulled a small smile from Klaus. "No, I suppose you're not." He paused, considering. "I need... to surrender. Completely. But in a way that makes me feel safe, not scared. Does that make sense?"

Five nodded and wrote:

Perfect sense. Hard limits?

Klaus recited his list, things Five already knew from previous observations, but hearing them directly was different, more real: No severe humiliation. No breath play. No blood play. Yes to moderate impact. Yes to bondage. Yes to sensory deprivation if done gradually.

Five made mental note of everything, then wrote:

I'm going to touch you now. Just to assess your body, understand where you carry tension. Green?

"Green," Klaus whispered, and Five saw his pupils dilate with anticipation.

Five approached slowly, calibrating every movement. His hands, hands Klaus knew, that had massaged his shoulders hundreds of times in their apartment, now touched with completely different intent.

He started with Klaus's shoulders, palpating muscles with firm but careful pressure. He felt exactly where tension accumulated, right side, just where the back met the neck, exactly where he knew it would be because Klaus had been channeling particularly difficult spirits all week.

He moved downward, hands tracing Klaus's spine, memorizing each vertebra. Klaus shivered under his touch, and Five had to remind himself to breathe.

Focus. This is about Klaus, not about you.

When he finished his assessment, he wrote:

You're going to be beautiful in my ropes.

And he began to work.

Five had studied shibari with the same intensity he'd studied temporal equations or assassination techniques. But no amount of theoretical study had prepared him for the reality of tying Klaus.

He started with a simple chest pattern, a basic harness that would distribute pressure evenly and provide anchor points for more complex work later. His hands moved with practiced precision, creating knots that were both functional and beautiful.

And Klaus... Klaus began to melt.

Five could see the exact moment it happened, when the third rope wrapped around his torso and the pressure became real, constant, inevitable. Klaus's shoulders dropped. His breathing deepened. That line of tension always present in his jaw began to soften.

There it is.

He worked in silence, letting the ropes speak for him. Each knot placed with intention. Each loop adjusted to the exact pressure Klaus needed, tight enough to feel contained but not so tight as to restrict circulation.

Five checked constantly. Fingers sliding under ropes, checking skin temperature, monitoring color. And between checks, he touched.

Small touches that were technically part of the tying process but that Five loaded with intention. Fingers grazing along Klaus's collarbone. Palm pressing against his lower back. Thumb tracing the line of his jaw when he passed in front of him.

Klaus responded to each touch with small sounds that made something primitive awaken in Five's chest.

Mine. Finally mine.

When the chest harness was complete, Five stepped back to assess his work. The red ropes against Klaus's pale skin were art, clean lines that followed the contours of his body, creating patterns that were both aesthetic and functional.

But more than that, Klaus looked... at peace. His eyes were half-closed, his breathing deep and steady. Not completely in subspace yet, but getting there.

Five took his whiteboard:

Color?

"Green," Klaus murmured. "Very green. It feels... it feels perfect."

Something warm and dangerous bloomed in Five's chest at those words. He wrote:

We're going to continue. Arms back.

Klaus obeyed without resistance, and Five began the delicate process of tying his arms.

This was the riskiest moment in terms of nerves, the area where most injuries occurred. Five had memorized every vulnerable nerve location, had practiced rope placement hundreds of times.

But Klaus wasn't a mannequin. Klaus was real and warm and trusting, and the responsibility of that weighed on Five like gravity.

He worked with meticulous care, placing ropes exactly where he knew they needed to be, distributing pressure across larger muscle areas, avoiding delicate points completely.

And as he worked, he spoke with his hands in ways he couldn't with words.

Each brush of fingers against skin was a confession. I've wanted you for so long.

Each careful adjustment of rope was a promise. I'll keep you safe.

Each circulation check was worship. You're precious like this.

Klaus couldn't know any of these things, but Five poured them into every touch anyway.

By the time he finished the arm bondage, Klaus was trembling, not from pain or discomfort, but from something deeper. His eyes were completely closed now, his head tilted back, utterly lost in sensation.

Five recognized the signs from his research: Klaus was entering subspace.

This was where the real responsibility began.

Five observed Klaus with the intensity of someone memorizing something precious and ephemeral.

Klaus's eyes were closed, his lips parted as he breathed deep and steady. The red ropes created hypnotic patterns against his skin, but it was the expression on his face that captured all of Five's attention, that absolute peace he'd watched him seeking for weeks.

Finally. Finally someone is seeing him properly.

That the someone was himself in disguise was a problem he'd deal with later.

Five moved to stand in front of Klaus, close enough for his presence to be felt even with closed eyes. He placed his hand, palm open and warm, against Klaus's sternum, just above the rope harness.

Klaus shuddered at the contact, a small sound escaping his throat.

Five pressed more firmly, anchoring him. He left his hand there for a long moment, establishing constant connection. In his research, he'd learned that submissives in subspace needed physical reminders they weren't alone in that vulnerable space.

With his free hand, Five took his whiteboard and wrote, then held it where Klaus could see it if he opened his eyes:

Breathe with me.

Klaus obeyed without hesitation, his chest rising and falling in sync with the pressure of Five's hand. Four seconds inhaling. Four seconds exhaling. The rhythm Five knew Klaus used to meditate after difficult sessions with spirits.

I know you. I know every detail about you that matters.

After several breathing cycles, Five moved his hand from Klaus's chest to his nape, fingers sliding into his hair, pressing exactly where Klaus always carried tension. He applied firm pressure, massaging, and felt how the last fragment of resistance in Klaus's body dissolved.

Klaus made a sound that was almost a sob of pure relief.

And something in Five's chest broke and reconfigured simultaneously.

This. This is what I've wanted to give him. Not just physical pleasure, but this relief. This escape from the voices and the pain and the weight of carrying others' deaths.

Five moved behind Klaus, his body close but not touching yet, letting Klaus feel his presence as warmth. With deliberate care, he placed his mouth near Klaus's ear and exhaled, warm breath against sensitive skin.

Klaus shivered completely, and Five saw goosebumps erupt on his arms.

Slowly, giving Klaus time to process each sensation, Five began tracing lines with his fingers, not on bare skin, but over the ropes. He followed each pattern he'd created, applying pressure through the jute to the muscles beneath.

Klaus arched in the restraints, seeking more contact, and Five gave him exactly what he needed.

Firm hands running down his sides. Fingers pressing into tension points through the ropes. Flat palms against his back, constantly reminding him he was held, contained, safe.

And then Five did something none of the other dominants had done, something his research had emphasized but that required different courage.

He pressed himself completely against Klaus's back, body to body, letting Klaus feel every inch of him. His chest against Klaus's bound shoulders. His hips against the curve of Klaus's lower back. His thigh pressing between Klaus's legs.

Klaus practically melted against him, seeking that contact like a dying man would seek water.

Five wrapped one arm around Klaus's chest, holding him, anchoring him, while his other hand slid downward. Not toward his groin, not yet. Instead, fingers traced the edge of the lace panties Klaus wore, caressing the sensitive skin of his thighs, the curve of his hips.

"Please," Klaus whispered, his voice hoarse and desperate. "Please, I…”

Five pressed his mouth against Klaus's shoulder, not exactly a kiss, but close, and felt how Klaus jerked at the contact. Then, maintaining that mouth-to-skin contact, Five finally slid his hand between Klaus's legs.

The sound Klaus made was obscene and beautiful simultaneously.

Five could feel how aroused Klaus was through the thin fabric, could feel how his body trembled with need. And part of him, that dark, possessive part that had been growing for months, wanted to mark this moment in Klaus's memory so deeply he'd never forget it.

He stroked Klaus through the fabric with firm, constant pressure, establishing a rhythm he knew would take him to the edge but not over it. Not yet.

"God," Klaus gasped, his hips moving involuntarily against Five's hand. "God, please, I need…”

Five increased the pressure slightly, his mouth still against Klaus's shoulder, breathing against his skin. His arm around Klaus's chest kept him steady while his other hand worked, stroking, pressing, tracing.

Klaus was shaking now, completely lost in sensation. And Five could read every signal from his body, the way his breaths became shallower, how his muscles tensed, the small desperate sound he made when he was close.

Now.

Five slid his hand inside Klaus's panties, skin against skin finally.

Klaus cried out, a sharp, broken sound, and Five had to use all his strength to keep him upright as his body convulsed. He worked Klaus through his orgasm with firm, sure touches, holding him completely, letting him know with every action that he wasn't alone.

I've got you. I've got you, I'll always have you.

But he couldn't speak, so instead he pressed his forehead against the back of Klaus's neck and held him as waves of pleasure coursed through him.

When Klaus finally went still, completely exhausted, Five carefully, so carefully, began the process of removing the ropes.

Aftercare wasn't optional. It was mandatory, critical, absolutely essential.

Five knew this from all his research, but understanding it theoretically and experiencing the reality were completely different things.

Klaus was in subdrop, that emotional and physical crash that came after the chemical roller coaster of subspace. His body trembled uncontrollably despite the room being warm, and when Five finished removing all the ropes, Klaus practically collapsed against him.

Five guided him to the soft couch in the corner of the room, a feature he'd specifically requested. He wrapped Klaus in the blanket he'd brought (soft, cashmere, heavy enough to provide comforting pressure), and then did something none of the other dominants had done.

He sat on the couch and pulled Klaus into his lap.

Klaus curled against him immediately, face hidden against Five's neck, still trembling.

"Sorry," Klaus mumbled against his neck. "I don't know why I'm... I can't stop shaking."

Five took his whiteboard, difficult to manage with Klaus in his lap but manageable, and wrote:

Normal. Your body is processing. Just breathe. I've got you.

He held Klaus close, one hand rubbing slow circles on his back, the other stroking his hair. And slowly, gradually, Klaus began to calm.

Five reached for the water bottle he'd prepared, room temperature, not cold, because he knew Klaus was sensitive to extreme temperatures after intense sessions, and brought it to Klaus's lips.

The gesture clearly said "drink," and Klaus obeyed, taking small sips.

"Thank you," Klaus whispered when he finished. "I... no one's done this before. The aftercare, I mean. Well, they have, but not like this. It didn't feel... it didn't feel like this."

Five wanted to ask what "this" meant, but he couldn't without breaking his self-imposed silence. Instead, he simply pressed a kiss against Klaus's hair, allowing himself that small confort, and held him closer.

They stayed like that for what might have been twenty minutes or an hour. Time lost meaning in these moments of silent intimacy. Five simply held Klaus, offering his body heat and constant presence while Klaus slowly pulled himself back together.

Eventually, Klaus shifted slightly, lifting his head to look at Five. His eyes were bright, not with tears exactly, but with something deep and vulnerable that made Five's chest tighten painfully.

"That was..." Klaus started, then stopped, searching for words. "I've never felt that before. That... complete peace."

Five nodded, because he understood. He'd seen exactly that on Klaus's face, that stillness that was so rare, so precious.

Klaus reached for Five's mask, not to remove it, just to trace its edges with trembling fingers.

"Who are you?" he asked softly. "Really."

Five went completely still. This was the question he'd been dreading and anticipating simultaneously.

He took his whiteboard with hands that didn't shake, assassination training was good for something, and wrote:

Someone who sees you exactly for who you are. Someone who wants to give you what you need.

Klaus read the words, and something in his expression softened even more.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice was barely a whisper. "I know it's... probably against the rules or whatever, but I... I need..."

Five shouldn't. Absolutely shouldn't.

Kissing Klaus would be crossing the final line he'd been dancing around.

But Klaus was looking at him with those eyes, vulnerable, needy, still in that post-scene space where everything felt amplified. And Five, who'd spent decades denying himself everything, who'd survived apocalypse and solitude and pain, couldn't deny himself this.

He nodded once. Brief and definitive.

Klaus leaned in, closing the space between them.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, almost shy. Lips barely pressing against lips.

But then Klaus made a small needy sound, and something in Five broke.

His hand buried itself in Klaus's hair, tilting his head to the perfect angle, and he deepened the kiss. He tasted every inch of Klaus's mouth, memorized the exact way their lips fit together, the sound Klaus made when Five bit gently at his lower lip.

Klaus melted against him, his hands gripping Five's shoulders like they were the only thing keeping him anchored to earth.

And Five kissed Klaus like a dying man, because in a way he was. This version of them, this stolen moment where Five could touch Klaus without consequences, without complicating their shared life, couldn't last.

But for now, for these precious minutes, Five allowed himself to have this.

He allowed himself to hold Klaus in his lap, kiss him breathless, offer the care and attention Klaus deserved.

When they finally separated, Klaus was smiling, a small, private smile Five had never seen directed at anyone else.

"I definitely need to see you again." Klaus's fingers traced the line of Five's jaw above the mask. "Please tell me you'll come back."

Five nodded, knowing even as he did that he was digging his grave deeper.

Because now that he'd tasted this, now that he knew exactly how Klaus felt in his arms, how he tasted, the sounds he made when he surrendered completely, Five could never stop.

He took his whiteboard and wrote:

Every Friday. If you want me.

"I want you," Klaus said immediately, with a certainty that made something painful bloom in Five's chest. "I definitely want you."

Five kissed him again, softer this time, almost tender, and knew with absolute certainty that he was completely and irrevocably fucked.

But that didn't stop him from kissing Klaus again, becoming addicted to that taste, to those lips that surrendered to him.

**

Five left the club two hours later, after ensuring Klaus was completely stable, after watching him dress with steady hands, after one final kiss that Klaus initiated with such sweet desperation it nearly broke Five's resolve to maintain his disguise.

"Next Friday," Klaus had whispered against his lips. "Promise me."

Five had nodded, because what else could he do?

Now, driving home in the pre-dawn darkness, the weight of what he'd done was beginning to settle over him like lead.

He'd crossed every line he'd sworn not to cross. He'd touched Klaus in ways he had no right to touch him. He'd given Klaus pleasure while wearing a mask and a lie. He'd kissed him, God, he'd kissed him like he was drowning and Klaus was air.

And the worst part? He was already planning to do it again.

You're a monster, the voice in his head whispered. You're using his vulnerability, his trust, his need. You're no better than Reginald.

That thought made bile rise in his throat. He pulled the car over abruptly, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white.

Was he? Was he really that different from their father, who'd manipulated them all for his own purposes?

No. No, he refused to believe that. Because unlike Reginald, Five actually cared about Klaus's wellbeing. Everything he'd done tonight, the careful bondage, the constant monitoring, the extensive aftercare, had been about Klaus's needs, not his own gratification.

Except that was a lie, wasn't it? Because Five had gotten gratification from it. Intense, overwhelming, addictive gratification.

He'd gotten hard just from tying Klaus, from hearing those sounds, from feeling him surrender. He'd had to maintain iron control to keep his focus on Klaus rather than his own desperate need.

And when Klaus had come apart in his arms, when he'd kissed him with that devastating trust, Five had never felt anything more powerful in his life.

I'm going to hell for this, he thought as he restarted the car. And I'm going to keep doing it anyway.

Because the alternative, stopping now, never touching Klaus like that again, watching him return to other dominants who couldn't read him properly, was somehow worse than the guilt.

The apartment was still dark when he arrived. He'd timed it perfectly, Klaus wouldn't be home for at least another hour, probably longer. He always lingered at the club after scenes, needed time to fully resurface before facing the real world.

Five stripped off Max's clothes, washed the temporary dye from his hair, removed the contact lenses. He stood in the shower under scalding water and tried not to think about how Klaus had felt in his arms.

It didn't work.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Klaus bound in red ropes, saw that expression of absolute peace, felt the phantom sensation of Klaus's lips against his.

This can't continue.

But even as he thought it, he knew it would. He was already planning next Friday's session, already thinking about what else Klaus might need, what other ways he could give him that peace.

He was addicted. Completely, irrevocably addicted to something he could never truly have.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel with water still dripping from his hair, he found Klaus's door slightly ajar. Light spilled from the gap.

Five froze.

Klaus wasn't supposed to be home yet. He always took time after sessions, needed to decompress before facing reality. Five had counted on at least another hour, maybe two.

But there was definitely someone in Klaus's room.

Five approached silently, old habits from decades of assassination work making his footsteps soundless even on creaky floorboards. He positioned himself where he could see through the gap without being seen.

Klaus was sitting on his bed, still wearing the clothes he'd put on at the club, jeans and an oversized sweater that hung off one shoulder. But it was his expression that made Five's chest constrict.

Klaus was smiling. Not his usual performative grin or his deflective humor-mask. This was something softer, more genuine. He was touching his lips with his fingers, like he was trying to preserve the sensation of something precious.

The kiss. He was remembering their kiss.

Five watched as Klaus fell backward onto his bed with a laugh that sounded almost giddy, watched him press his hands to his face like he was trying to contain some overwhelming emotion.

"Get it together," Klaus muttered to himself, but he was still smiling. "It's just... it was just really good. Better than good. It was…" He made an inarticulate sound of satisfaction. "God, I can still feel his hands."

Something twisted in Five's gut, part satisfaction, part guilt, part fierce possessive pleasure.

He'd done that. He'd put that expression on Klaus's face, had given him something that made him smile like that in private.

But Klaus didn't know it was him. Klaus was smiling over a stranger, over Max, over a lie.

Five forced himself to step back, to move toward his own room before Klaus could sense his presence. But just as he turned, Klaus spoke again.

"I wonder..." Klaus's voice was softer now, thoughtful. "I wonder if this is what it's supposed to feel like. Being seen."

Five's hand was on his doorknob, but he couldn't make himself turn it. Couldn't make himself walk away from those words.

"All this time," Klaus continued, apparently talking to himself, or maybe to one of his ghosts, Five couldn't tell. "All this time I've been going to the club, looking for... I don't know. Something. And tonight I finally found it." A pause. "Found him."

You didn't find him. You found me. And I'm right here, have been right here this whole time.

The words burned in Five's throat, desperate to be spoken. He could walk into Klaus's room right now, could confess everything, could…

Could destroy everything they'd built together.

Because how would Klaus react? Would he be grateful? Relieved? Or would he be horrified that Five had deceived him, had touched him under false pretenses, had violated his trust in the most fundamental way?

Five couldn't risk it. Couldn't risk losing Klaus entirely by trying to have him in the light when he could only have him in shadow.

So he turned his doorknob as quietly as possible and slipped into his room, closing the door with barely a whisper of sound.

He dressed mechanically, sleep pants, t-shirt, the mundane armor of domestic life. Then he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of Klaus moving around in the next room.

He heard the shower start. Heard Klaus singing softly, some pop song Five didn't recognize. Heard the shower turn off and the bathroom door open.

And then, after a long silence, he heard Klaus's footsteps approach his door.

Five held his breath.

A soft knock. "Five? You awake?"

Every muscle in Five's body tensed. He could pretend to be asleep. Should pretend to be asleep.

But his mouth opened without his permission. "Yeah. Come in."

The door opened, and Klaus appeared, backlit by the hallway light. His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends. He wore those ridiculous silk pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt that might have been Five's, Klaus had a habit of stealing his clothes.

"Hey," Klaus said softly. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep." Five sat up, back against the headboard, trying to look casual despite his heart hammering against his ribs. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Klaus moved into the room, and Five noticed he was carrying two mugs. "Made tea. Thought you might want some."

This was dangerous. Klaus in his room, in the darkness, still glowing with whatever he'd felt at the club. Still carrying the ghost of Five's touch on his skin, even if he didn't know it.

But Five took the offered mug anyway. Chamomile. Klaus always made him chamomile when he thought Five needed to relax.

Klaus settled on the edge of Five's bed, cross-legged, close enough that their knees almost touched.

"You got in late," Klaus observed. "Work thing?"

"Yeah. Surveillance." The lies came easily now, too easily. "Target never showed."

"That sucks." Klaus sipped his tea, and Five tried not to stare at his lips. Tried not to remember how they'd felt against his own. "I was out too. With... a friend."

Five's fingers tightened on his mug. "Good time?"

"Really good time, actually." Klaus's smile was soft, almost shy. "Better than I've had in a while. It's weird, you know? Sometimes you meet someone and they just... get you. Like really get you, in ways other people don't."

I get you. I've always gotten you. I know you better than anyone.

"That's good," Five said, and his voice was only slightly strained. "You deserve that."

Klaus looked at him then, really looked at him, and Five wondered what he saw. Could Klaus sense something different? Could he somehow know?

"You okay? You seem tense."

"Long night. Frustrating mission."

"Want me to…" Klaus reached out, fingers moving toward Five's shoulder in that familiar gesture he'd done a hundred times. But Five flinched back before he could stop himself.

He couldn't. Couldn't let Klaus touch him right now, not when the sensation of Klaus's skin was still burned into his palms, not when he could still taste him.

Klaus's hand froze mid-air, something hurt flashing across his face before he pulled back. "Sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"No, it's…" Five caught Klaus's wrist before he could fully retreat. The contact was electric, dangerous. "I'm just wound up. It's not you."

But he didn't let go. Couldn't make himself let go.

Klaus's eyes dropped to where Five's fingers wrapped around his wrist, the same wrist Five had carefully monitored for circulation while binding him. The same pulse Five had felt fluttering like a trapped bird.

"Five," Klaus said softly, and there was something in his voice Five couldn't identify. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends on the question."

"Do you ever..." Klaus hesitated, biting his lower lip, the lip Five had tasted hours ago. "Do you ever feel like there's something you want, but you can't have it? Like it's right there, but completely out of reach?"

Five's breath caught. "All the time."

"How do you deal with it?"

I don't. I put on a mask and take it in the only way I can, and I hate myself for it.

"I focus on what I can control," Five said instead. "And try not to think about the rest."

Klaus laughed, but it sounded hollow. "Yeah. That sounds about right." He looked down at his tea. "Sometimes I think... sometimes I wonder if what I'm looking for has been here all along. If I'm just too scared to reach for it."

Five's heart stopped. Completely stopped.

Was Klaus talking about him? Or about Max? Or about something else entirely?

"Klaus—"

"Forget it." Klaus drained his tea and stood abruptly. "I'm being weird. It's late. I should let you sleep."

"Klaus, wait." Five stood too, and suddenly they were very close in the darkness of his room. Close enough that Five could smell Klaus's shampoo, could see the slight marks on his wrists where the ropes had been. Faint, barely visible, but Five knew they were there because he'd put them there.

"Yeah?"

Five should let him go. Should say goodnight and let Klaus leave and maintain the careful distance that kept them both safe.

Instead, he reached out and traced one of those faint marks with his thumb.

Klaus inhaled sharply.

"You hurt yourself?" Five asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral even as his heart raced.

"What? Oh." Klaus looked down at his wrist, and something complicated crossed his face. "Not exactly. I was... it doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

The words hung in the air between them, weighted with everything Five couldn't say.

Klaus met his eyes, and Five saw confusion there, and want, and something that looked dangerously like hope.

"Why?" Klaus whispered. "Why does it matter to you?"

Because I put those marks there. Because I held you while you came apart. Because I kissed you until neither of us could breathe. Because you're mine in ways you don't even know.

"Because you're important to me," Five said instead, and it was the truth, even if it wasn't the whole truth. "Because I…" He stopped himself just in time. "Because you're family."

Something in Klaus's expression shuttered at that word. Family. The wall between what they were and what they could be.

"Right," Klaus said, and his voice was carefully neutral now. "Family."

He pulled his wrist from Five's grip gently but firmly.

"Goodnight, Five."

"Klaus…"

But Klaus was already gone, door closing softly behind him, leaving Five alone in the darkness with the ghost of his warmth and the weight of everything unsaid.

Five sank back onto his bed, head in his hands.

He was destroying this. Whatever fragile thing existed between them, he was slowly poisoning it with lies and secrets and his own selfish need.

But he couldn't stop. God help him, he couldn't stop.

Next Friday, he'd go back to the club. He'd put on Max's face and Max's silence and Max's hands, and he'd give Klaus what he needed in the only way Klaus would accept it.

And then he'd come home and lie to Klaus's face about where he'd been.

It was unsustainable. It was destructive. It was only a matter of time before everything fell apart.

But for now, for these stolen moments, Five would take what he could get.

Even if it destroyed him in the end.

**

The following week, Five discovered he had gravely underestimated the consequences of his actions.

It wasn't the deception itself, he'd been lying for years as an undercover agent, had constructed false identities so convincing that even he sometimes forgot where the mask ended and the person began. Lying was a tool, and Five was a master craftsman.

No. What he hadn't anticipated was this: the messages. God, the messages.

Klaus had started texting him. Casual at first, photos of coffee with heart emojis, stupid memes, commentary about particularly difficult clients in his medium work. Normal things between roommates who also happened to be brothers.

Except they didn't feel normal. Not when Klaus added a winky face emoji. Not when he wrote "thinking of you" instead of "thought this would make you laugh." Not when the coffee photos increasingly included the curve of Klaus's collarbone, the edge of his neck, the line of his jaw, angles that felt less accidental and more like an invitation Five didn't know how to accept.

Five responded with his usual sarcasm, maintaining appropriate distance, forcing himself to ignore the heat each message kindled in his chest like embers he couldn't quite extinguish.

And then there were the messages to Max.

The club had a discreet app for members to communicate, a security and privacy measure. Klaus had added Max two days after their first session.

Klaus: Hey. Is it weird that I'm texting you? I don't really know the rules here.

Five had stared at that message for five full minutes before responding, his heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape the cage of his chest. As Max, he could be different. As Max, he could give Klaus what he needed without the complications of their shared history, without the weight of thirty years of dysfunction pressing down on every word.

Max: Not weird at all. I'm glad to hear from you. How have you been feeling?

And so it began.

Klaus wrote to Max about things he would never tell Five. About how the voices had been particularly bad that week, a cacophony of need and pain that made his skull feel too small. About a case that had haunted him for days, a murdered teenager who didn't understand she was dead, who kept asking for her mother. About the way he sometimes felt like he was floating outside his own skin, untethered and drifting, and needed something, anything, to anchor him back to earth.

Klaus: I know this probably sounds crazy, but when I was in your ropes... it was the first time in months that I felt really present. Like I could finally just... be. Without the noise. Without the weight. Just existing.

Five, sitting at his desk at CIA headquarters while reading that message, had to close his eyes against the sharp ache in his chest.

I know you, he wanted to respond. I know exactly what that means for you. I've been watching your struggle for two years. I'd let you anchor yourself to me every single day if you'd let me.

Instead, he wrote:

Max: That doesn't sound crazy. Subspace can provide that kind of mental quietude. Your brain becomes so focused on sensation that the other voices quiet down. That's why BDSM practice can be therapeutic for some people.

Klaus: Therapeutic? My therapist would probably have a stroke if I told him I found peace by letting a beautiful stranger tie me up and do things that would make most people call the cops.

Five almost smiled at that. Typical Klaus, using humor to soften vulnerability, to make the profound sound casual.

Max: Your therapist would probably be more concerned if you weren't finding healthy ways to process your trauma. And I'm not a stranger. Not after Friday.

There was a long pause before Klaus responded, and Five found himself holding his breath, staring at the screen like it held answers to questions he was afraid to ask.

Klaus: No. I guess you're not.

**

Five arrived at the Élysée two hours before Klaus was due to appear.

He needed time. Time to transform from Five Hargreeves, brother, roommate, man desperately in love with someone he could never have, into Max Petrov, silent dominant who could give Klaus what he needed without the complications of their shared history.

In the hotel room he maintained for Max, two blocks from the club, Five stood before the mirror and began the ritual.

First, the dye. Dark blond, almost the same shade Klaus sometimes wore. He applied it with hands that didn't tremble, despite his pulse beating too fast, despite the voice in his head that sounded disturbingly like Dolores asking him what the hell he thought he was doing.

While he waited for it to process, he studied his reflection with the clinical detachment he'd perfected over decades of survival.

Forty-five years in the apocalypse had turned him into something sharp, dangerous. But this twenty-two-year-old body, this body that finally matched his mind, still surprised him sometimes. He was attractive in ways his thirteen-year-old body had never been. Clean lines, strong jaw, broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist.

Klaus had called him beautiful that first night. "A beautiful stranger," he'd said, his voice breathy with need.

Beautiful, Five thought bitterly. As if that matters. As if the exterior could compensate for how rotten the interior is.

Because this was rotten, wasn't it? Building a false identity just to touch Klaus. Deceiving him. Manipulating him into trusting someone who didn't even exist.

Except Max did exist now. He existed in the way Klaus melted under his hands. He existed in the vulnerable text messages Klaus sent between sessions. He existed in the space between lie and truth where Five could finally be honest about what he felt, even if Klaus didn't know who was feeling it.

The contact lenses came next. Brown, changing his distinctive blue eyes to something ordinary, forgettable. Then the mask, silver with minimal black designs, covering enough to protect his identity but leaving his mouth free.

His mouth. That had been a deliberate choice.

Because he'd kissed Klaus last time. And he planned to do it again tonight. And again. And again, until the world ended or Klaus discovered the truth, whichever came first.

Pathetic, he told himself while dressing. Dark leather pants that hugged his thighs, a burgundy shirt, something Five in his daily life would never wear. You're so desperate to touch him that you built an entirely new person just to have permission.

But desperation was just another word for need, and Five had learned in the apocalypse that denying basic needs only led to madness.

He needed Klaus. Period. Full stop. End of discussion.

And if this was the only way to have him without destroying everything else, then Five would use every tool in his arsenal to make it work.

**

At the club, he checked the room he'd reserved. He'd requested changes since the previous week.

Adjustable lighting, warmer now. He'd brought unscented candles because Klaus was sensitive to strong smells, something Five had learned after watching Klaus get a headache from Diego's cologne last month. A heavier blanket for aftercare, cashmere instead of cotton, because Klaus ran cold after intense scenes. Water, of course. And something new: dark chocolate, because he'd noticed Klaus had trouble with drop after intense sessions, and the sugar helped stabilize blood sugar and mood.

He knew these details because he'd been paying attention. Because he'd been researching almost obsessively, reading forums and medical journals and firsthand accounts until he could anticipate Klaus's needs before Klaus himself recognized them.

The ropes were perfectly prepared. Red again, because that color did something to Klaus. Five had seen it in his eyes when the ropes tightened against his skin, how his breathing changed, how his entire body surrendered to the sensation and the symbolism.

But tonight there was something more.

A blindfold. Black silk, soft as sin and twice as tempting. Five held it between his fingers, testing its weight, imagining how it would look against Klaus's skin.

He'd researched sensory deprivation exhaustively. How removing sight forced the brain to focus on other sensations. How it could deepen subspace, make it more intense. How it created a vulnerability that required absolute trust.

How it made every touch feel like fire.

Will he green light this? he wondered, his stomach tight with anticipation and something darker. Will he trust me enough?

There was only one way to find out.

**

Klaus knew he was playing with fire.

He knew it when he chose the cobalt blue lingerie set, the exact color of Five's eyes, though he told himself that was coincidence. He knew it when he stood before his bedroom mirror, checking that the stockings were perfect, that the garters weren't twisted, that the collar rested exactly in the hollow of his throat like a promise or a prayer.

What would Ben say if he could see him? He'd probably roll his eyes and ask if Klaus was really going to pretend forever that he didn't know who Max was, if he was just waiting for the truth to explode in his face like a bomb they both knew was ticking.

And Ben would have been right.

Klaus was waiting for something to explode. He'd been waiting since that first night with Max, when those hands, those hands that felt so impossibly familiar, had tied him with a precision that shouldn't have been possible for a stranger.

He hadn't said anything. Hadn't accused. Because part of him, the part that had spent thirty-something years being the problem child, the addict, the one who always ruined everything, wanted this.

He wanted the fiction. Wanted to be able to surrender to someone without the weight of their family history crushing down on every moment. Wanted to be seen as Klaus, not as Number Four. Wanted someone to touch him like he was precious, not broken. Like he was worth the care and attention being lavished on him.

Even if that someone was... Five.

Because he wanted to feel peace. Feel safe. Feel desired. Feel seen. Feel alive in ways the voices of the dead normally prevented him from feeling.

He left his room, called an Uber, and headed to the club where Five waited disguised as a stranger, where they would both pretend, where the lie between them felt more honest than any truth they'd ever spoken.

**

Klaus arrived at 10:20 PM exactly.

Five saw him from his elevated position, watching him cross the club's common area like he owned the place, like he was a prince walking through his kingdom. And God, he looked like.

Sin, Five thought, his mouth going instantly dry. He looks like sin personified, wrapped in lace and offered up like a gift I don't deserve.

The cobalt blue of the lace made his eyes shine like jewels under the dim lights. The cut of the ensemble accentuated every line of his body, the curve of his hips, the length of his legs in those heels that added four inches to his height and made his walk a deliberate provocation.

And that smile.

That smile when Klaus spotted him waiting below, that expression that was part nervousness, part excitement, part something darker that made Five's stomach clench with anticipation so intense it bordered on pain.

Five descended the stairs, each step measured, controlled, while his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. When he reached Klaus's level, he extended his hand as always.

An invitation. Not an order. Never an order with Klaus, who'd had too many orders in his life already.

Klaus took it without hesitation, his fingers intertwining with Five's with an ease that felt practiced despite this being only their second time. Like their hands had been designed to fit together, like this was always meant to happen.

"Hi," Klaus murmured, low enough that only Five could hear over the club's pulsing music.

Five squeezed his hand in response, a silent affirmation, and guided him toward their private room, both of them with intertwined fingers and hearts beating to the same rhythm as the music, synchronized in ways that felt dangerous and inevitable.

The moment the door closed behind them, something in the air shifted, thickened, charged with electricity and promise.

The first time there had been nervousness. Uncertainty. The careful dance of two people learning each other's boundaries, testing limits, establishing trust.

This time, there was anticipation. Knowledge. The promise of something deeper, more intimate, more devastating.

Five moved toward Klaus slowly, giving him time to process, to prepare, to change his mind if he needed to. When he was close enough to feel the heat radiating from Klaus's body, close enough to see his pupils dilate, he raised his whiteboard:

Beautiful.

It wasn't what he'd planned to write. He'd prepared something more formal, more appropriate, something about consent and boundaries. But the word came out before he could stop it, honest and raw.

Klaus flushed, that pink color spreading from his cheeks down to his chest exactly as Five knew it would, as he'd seen it do a hundred times in their shared apartment.

"Thank you," Klaus whispered, and there was something vulnerable in his voice that made Five's chest ache. "I wanted... I wanted to see you again. I've been thinking about last time."

Me too, Five wrote, and it was more honesty than he should give, more truth than was safe.

But Klaus was looking at him with those eyes, those eyes that held ghosts and hope in equal measure, and Five had spent two years denying himself everything, and he was tired of lying about this, at least.

"I brought something," Klaus said suddenly, his voice taking on that playful tone he used when nervous but trying to hide it. He bent down to retrieve something from his small bag, and Five's gaze followed the movement, cataloging the flex of muscles, the curve of spine.

A water bottle. Chocolate. And, to Five's surprise, a small notebook.

"I did some research," Klaus explained, his cheeks still pink, and Five found it endearing that Klaus could stand in a BDSM club wearing lingerie and still blush over showing initiative. "About aftercare and stuff. And I thought... well, maybe we could write things down afterward. Like what worked, what didn't. For next time."

Next time, Five thought, something warm and dangerous blooming in his chest like a flower made of fire. He's already planning a next time. He wants this to continue.

Max smiled softly, a real smile, not the sardonic smirk Five usually wore, and wrote on his whiteboard:

Good idea. That shows you're taking this seriously. Taking care of yourself.

"I am," Klaus said, and there was so much sincerity in his voice that Five had to look away for a moment before the truth spilled out of him like blood from a wound. "This is... important to me. You're important to me."

You don't know me, Five wanted to scream. I'm a fraud. I'm your brother in disguise playing at being someone else because I'm too much of a coward to be honest. Because I'd rather have you like this than not have you at all.

Instead, he stepped closer and touched Klaus's face with a tenderness he shouldn't allow himself. Five placed his hand against Klaus's cheek, his thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone with the careful precision of someone memorizing a map to treasure.

Klaus leaned into that touch like a cat seeking warmth, seeking comfort, his eyes closing for a moment that felt eternal.

Five picked up his whiteboard with his free hand:

Color?

"Green," Klaus responded immediately, his eyes opening to find Five's, or what he could see of them above the mask. "Very, very green."

Five nodded, then gestured toward the center of the room where he'd prepared his station.

The ropes. The candles. And the blindfold, resting innocuously on a small table like it wasn't about to change everything.

Klaus's eyes landed on the blindfold, and Five saw the exact moment comprehension dawned, saw his pupils dilate, saw his breath catch, saw want and fear war across his features.

"Oh," Klaus breathed, his chest rising and falling faster. "Are you going to...?"

Five raised his whiteboard:

Only if you green light it. Removing sight can intensify other sensations. Make you feel more. But only if you trust me. Only if you want this.

Klaus swallowed visibly, his throat working. His fingers played with the edge of his lace ensemble, a nervous gesture Five recognized from their apartment, Klaus did it when thinking hard about something important.

"What if it scares me?"

You use your safeword. Yellow to pause, red to stop. At any time. No questions asked. No judgment given. Ever.

"And if I just... need to see you? Need to know you're there?"

Five lowered his whiteboard and stepped into Klaus's space deliberately, invading it, claiming it. He placed his hand over Klaus's heart, feeling the accelerated beat beneath his palm like a trapped bird desperate for flight.

Then he leaned in, his mouth close to Klaus's ear but not touching yet, and exhaled warm breath against his skin, a promise of intimacy, a preview of what was to come.

Klaus shuddered completely, a small needy sound escaping his throat that went straight to Five's groin.

Five picked up his whiteboard again, his hand still over Klaus's racing heart:

I'm going to be here the entire time. Touching you. Letting you know you're not alone. That you're safe. That you're seen. Do you trust me?

Klaus looked at him for a long moment. There was something in his eyes, something that looked dangerously like recognition, but then he blinked and it disappeared like morning mist.

"Yes," Klaus said finally, his voice barely a whisper, barely a breath. "I trust you."

You shouldn't, Five thought as he guided Klaus toward the center of the room. But thank God you do.

The moment the silk blindfold touched his eyes, Klaus felt his world shift on its axis.

Darkness. Complete and absolute, like being swallowed by the void.

His first instinct was panic, that primitive fear of being vulnerable, blind, helpless. His breath quickened, shallow and rapid, his hands reaching out for something, anything, to anchor himself to reality before he drowned in the darkness.

And then Max's hands were there.

Firm. Warm. Solid as bedrock. One pressed against his chest, right over his frantically beating heart. The other curved around his nape, fingers pressing with perfect precision exactly where Klaus always carried tensión, a pressure point Five had discovered months ago during one of their late-night conversations, when Klaus had been exhausted from channeling a particularly traumatized spirit.

Klaus focused on those hands. On the heat of them burning through the thin lace. On the steady pressure that said I've got you, you're safe, you're not alone, I won't let you fall.

His breathing gradually slowed, matching some unspoken rhythm Max seemed to be setting.

"Green," Klaus murmured, though Max hadn't asked. "I'm okay. It's just... intense."

He felt more than heard Max's movement, the whisper of fabric, the shift of air, and then something pressed against his back. Max's entire body. Chest against his back. Hips against his lower back. Thigh sliding between his legs in a way that made Klaus's knees nearly buckle.

Klaus almost collapsed at the contact, his body wanting to melt backward into that solid warmth, into that promise of safety and containment.

"Oh God," he gasped, and his voice sounded foreign to his own ears, raw and needy in ways he usually tried to hide.

Max's lips brushed his ear, not quite a kiss but devastatingly close, and Klaus felt the ghost of breath against his skin like a brand.

Without sight, Klaus was completely dependent on Five.

And Five had spent forty-five years learning to be trustworthy in the most impossible situations imaginable. He'd kept himself alive and sane in an apocalypse. He'd protected his siblings through multiple timeline collapses. He'd earned trust through actions when words meant nothing.

He would not fail Klaus now.

He began with the chest harness, like last time. But he worked more slowly now, with deliberate patience, letting Klaus feel each loop of rope against his skin, each knot tightening gradually, building sensation layer by layer like constructing something sacred.

His hands brushed deliberately, intentionally. A finger tracing Klaus's collarbone here, drawing the line like an artist sketching on canvas. A palm pressing against his sternum there, feeling the rapid rise and fall of breath. His mouth, God, his mouth, ghosting across Klaus's shoulder, his neck, the line of his jaw.

Not quite kisses. Not yet. But promises of kisses. Previews of pleasure. Anticipation stretched so taut it felt like pain.

Klaus trembled under his hands, small sounds escaping him with each touch, whimpers and gasps that Five wanted to collect and hoard like a dragon with treasure.

"Max," Klaus whispered at one point, his voice broken and desperate, and hearing that name on Klaus's lips, knowing Klaus was saying it to him, even if Klaus didn't know, made something dark and possessive unfurl in Five's chest like smoke.

Five pressed his forehead against the back of Klaus's neck in response, letting the contact speak for him. I'm here. I'm always here. I've always been here.

He continued working. The harness took shape, functional art against Klaus's pale skin, red against white like blood on snow. Then he began with the arms, binding them behind Klaus's back with meticulous care, the kind of precision he'd once reserved for temporal equations and assassination assignments.

Every few minutes, he checked. Fingers sliding under the ropes to verify circulation, blood flow, nerve response. Watching the color of Klaus's skin for any sign of distress. Monitoring his breathing for changes that indicated pain rather than pleasure.

And between checks, he touched.

Because he couldn't stop. Now that he'd allowed himself this, now that Klaus was here, vulnerable and trusting and his in ways that mattered more than blood or law, Five couldn't stop touching.

His hands mapped Klaus's sides, learning the landscape of ribs and muscle. His lips traced Klaus's spine, kissing each vertebra like a prayer to saints he didn't believe in. His fingers followed the curve of Klaus's hip, the edge of those lace panties that left so devastatingly little to the imagination.

"Please," Klaus gasped at one point, his body arching into Five's touch like a plant seeking sunlight. "Please, I need..."

Five pressed his entire body against Klaus's back, letting him feel how affected he was, how hard he'd gotten just from touching, just from hearing those sounds, just from having Klaus like this, bound and blind and trusting.

Klaus made a noise that was half surprise, half pure undiluted need, the kind of sound that could drive a man to madness.

Five retrieved his whiteboard, though his hands were shaking slightly now, control starting to fracture at the edges:

What do you need? More of this? Or something different?

"I need..." Klaus writhed in the ropes, seeking more contact, more pressure, more something he couldn't quite articulate. "I need you to kiss me. Please. I've been thinking about it all week. I've been thinking about you all week."

All week, Five thought, something dark and possessive igniting in his chest like wildfire catching dry brush. He's been thinking about me. About my kisses. About my hands on him.

Slowly, giving Klaus time to anticipate, to imagine, to want, Five turned Klaus's body so they faced each other.

Klaus was still blindfolded, still sightless, still completely dependent on Five for orientation, for guidance, for everything.

Five placed his hand on Klaus's cheek, cradling it like something infinitely precious. His thumb traced the line of Klaus's cheekbone while his other hand supported Klaus's bound arms, keeping him balanced, keeping him safe.

He tilted Klaus's head to the perfect angle, the angle he'd been imagining for months, the angle that would let him kiss Klaus the way he'd fantasized about during countless sleepless nights.

And finally, after two years of wanting and denying and aching, he closed that final distance and kissed him.

The first kiss was soft. Almost tentative, like Five was afraid Klaus might shatter under too much pressure.

Lips pressing against lips, warm breath mingling, the ghost of a touch that promised so much more.

Klaus made a desperate sound, trying to lean forward, to deepen the contact, to demand more, but the ropes held him in place, kept him exactly where Five wanted him.

And then Five bit Klaus's lower lip gently, carefully, just enough pressure to make it interesting.

Klaus moaned, a sound so wanton, so unguarded, that it sent electricity straight down Five's spine, and his entire body arched in the restraints like he was trying to climb inside Five's skin.

That seemed to break something in Five, shatter some final vestige of control he'd been clinging to.

Because suddenly the kiss changed from soft to starving. The hand on Klaus's cheek slid into his hair, gripping, tilting his head back further for better access, for deeper penetration.

Five's tongue traced Klaus's lower lip, asking for entrance, demanding it, and Klaus opened for him without thought, without hesitation, without any self-preservation instinct at all.

God, Klaus thought, drowning in sensation, he kisses like he's been starving for this. Like he's dying for this. Like this is the only thing keeping him alive.

Five kissed Klaus like a drowning man, like Klaus was oxygen, like every second mattered because the world might end at any momento, and given their history, that wasn't even metaphorical.

Klaus understood that kind of desperation. He'd felt it his entire life, that sensation of needing more, of never having enough, of constantly being on the edge of something he couldn't name but desperately craved.

But this felt like finally finding what he'd been searching for. Like the missing piece he hadn't known he'd lost.

Five kissed him until Klaus forgot his own name. Kissed him until the voices of the dead, those constant unwanted companions, finally, finally fell silent. Kissed him until the only thing that existed in the entire universe was the pressure of those lips, the heat of that body, the sensation of those hands holding him like he was something precious rather than broken.

When they finally separated, both gasping for air, Klaus was trembling, completely lost in subspace in ways he'd never experienced before, floating somewhere between consciousness and bliss.

"Max," he whispered, because he needed to say that name, needed to anchor this to something real even if nothing about this situation was real, even if everything was built on lies they were both choosing to believe.

He felt Max move, felt lips brush against his own again, felt the vibration of words whispered so quietly, so reverently, in a voice gone rough with desire:

"Beautiful. Completely mine."

Yours, Klaus thought, and it should have scared him how much he wanted that to be true. Yours, yours, yours.

Five had lost control.

Not completely, not dangerously. He was still monitoring Klaus, still checking skin color and breathing and signs of distress with the analytical part of his brain that never quite shut off.

But the careful control he normally maintained over himself, over his emotions, over his needs, that had fractured like glass under pressure.

Because Klaus was perfect like this. Bound in his ropes, blind to the world, trusting completely despite every lesson life should have taught him about trust. And those sounds Klaus made, those moans and gasps and pleas, were doing things to Five he hadn't anticipated, hadn't prepared for, couldn't defend against.

His hand slid down Klaus's body, tracing the line of his abdomen with deliberate slowness, fingers following the trail of fine hair that disappeared beneath those lace panties.

Klaus arched his back, seeking more contact, more pressure, more everything.

"Yes," Klaus gasped, and his voice was wrecked, desperate. "Yes, please, God, yes."

Five slipped his hand inside Klaus's panties, wrapping his fingers around him, and the sound Klaus made was absolutely obscene, the kind of sound that would echo in Five's mind for years, that would haunt his dreams and fantasies.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," Klaus chanted, his hips moving involuntarily against Five's hand, seeking friction, seeking release, seeking salvation in sensation.

Five established a rhythm, firm and steady and relentless, while his other hand held Klaus against him, supported him, kept him from collapsing. His mouth found Klaus's neck, kissing, sucking, biting gently, leaving marks that would fade in hours but that felt like claiming, like mine written on skin in temporary ink.

Mine, Five thought with feral possessiveness. Mine, mine, mine. No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to touch you like this.

"Max, I'm close," Klaus panted, his voice breaking on the name. "Please, can I...?"

Five bit down on the point where Klaus's neck met his shoulder, just hard enough for it to hurt good, to blur the line between pain and pleasure, and increased his rhythm, his grip, his everything.

Klaus screamed when he came, his body convulsing in the ropes, and Five had to use all his strength to hold him upright, to keep him safe, to work him through every wave of pleasure like it was his sacred duty.

He stroked Klaus through his orgasm with firm, sure touches, holding his weight when his legs threatened to give out, murmuring words without sound against his skin that Klaus couldn't hear but that Five needed to say anyway:

I've got you. I'll always have you. You're mine and I'm going to take care of you forever, even if you never know it's me.

**

Klaus floated.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed. Could have been minutes or hours, time lost meaning when he was like this, lost in sensation, in afterglow, in that peaceful quietude that finally, finally silenced all the voices.

He felt Max removing the ropes with careful precision, each knot untied gradually, circulation checked constantly with professional thoroughness. Felt himself being wrapped in something soft and heavy, the cashmere blanket that smelled faintly of cedar and something else he couldn't identify but that felt like home.

Felt himself being lifted with surprising strength, carried to somewhere soft, placed down with reverent tenderness like he was something infinitely fragile and infinitely valuable.

And felt when Max finally removed the blindfold from his eyes.

Klaus blinked against the soft candlelight, his vision adjusting slowly to the golden glow. And the first thing he saw was Max, still masked, still mysterious, looking at him with an intensity that made Klaus's breath catch in his throat.

There was something in those eyes. Something achingly familiar, like déjà vu or a dream half-remembered.

But before Klaus could process it, before that recognition could crystallize into certainty, Max was offering him water, pressing the edge of the bottle against his lips with gentle insistence.

Klaus drank obediently, the cool water soothing his raw throat, grounding him back in his body.

"Thank you," he murmured when he finished, his voice hoarse.

Max nodded, then reached for the chocolate Klaus had brought, breaking it into small pieces and offering them one by one like communion, like sacrament.

Klaus accepted each piece, letting them melt on his tongue, the sugar helping to stabilize the crash that always came after such intense sensation, after flying so high.

"That was..." Klaus started, then laughed softly, the sound exhausted and satisfied and slightly disbelieving. "I don't have words. That was perfect."

Max picked up his whiteboard:

How do you feel? Any pain? Any discomfort anywhere?

"No," Klaus shook his head, and the movement made him dizzy in a pleasant way. "I feel... incredible. Exhausted, but incredible. Like I've been taken apart and put back together better than I was before."

A moment of silence, then:

Drop? Do you need me to stay longer?

And there was something in that question, something vulnerable beneath the formal words, something that sounded like hope and fear tangled together, that made Klaus's heart clench painfully in his chest.

"Can you?" Klaus asked, his voice small, almost childlike. "Stay? Just a little longer. I'm not... I'm not ready for you to go yet."

Max didn't need his whiteboard to answer. He simply lay down on the couch beside Klaus, pulling him against his chest, wrapping him completely in his arms like Klaus was something precious to be protected.

Klaus curled into him instinctively, his head resting over Max's heart, listening to the steady, constant beat.

And as he lay there, floating in afterglow, something in his mind crystallized with startling clarity.

That heartbeat. He knew it.

Those hands. He knew them intimately, knew their strength and their gentleness, knew how they felt massaging his shoulders after a hard day, knew their exact pressure and temperature.

That way of holding him, like Klaus was something precious and fragile simultaneously, like he was worth protecting and cherishing. He knew it, and if there had been any doubt in his mind before, it dissolved completely now like sugar in hot water.

Oh, Klaus thought, something cold and warm intertwining in his chest like ice and fire meeting. Oh God. Oh fuck.

He didn't say anything. Didn't accuse. Didn't confront.

Because if he was right, if this was what he thought it was, then calling it out now would destroy this perfect moment. Would shatter this fragile bubble of intimacy they'd constructed from lies and need and desperation.

And Klaus, who had spent thirty years being selfish and self-destructive, who had ruined good things through his inability to let them simply be, decided to be selfish just a little bit longer.

He decided to allow himself this stolen moment. This peace. This sensation of being held by someone who knew him in ways a stranger never could, who knew exactly where he carried tension, exactly how much pressure he needed, exactly what would make him feel safe.

He decided to keep the secret a little while longer.

Because when this exploded, and they both knew it would eventually explode, that secrets this big couldn't stay buried forever, Klaus wanted to have had this.

These stolen moments. This beautiful fiction. This truth disguised as a lie, this honesty wrapped in deception.

"Max," he whispered against his brother's chest, tasting the name on his tongue, testing how it felt to speak the lie while knowing the truth.

The hand in his hair tightened slightly in response, a gesture Klaus recognized, that Five made when he was feeling particularly protective or possessive.

And Klaus closed his eyes, allowing himself to pretend, just for a little while longer, that this was real.

That this could last. That when the mask finally fell, because it would fall, masks always did eventually, it wouldn't destroy everything they'd both built.

That maybe, just maybe, there could be something on the other side of this deception worth salvaging.

But that was a problem for future Klaus. For now, he let himself drift in the safety of Five's arms, pretending he didn't know, pretending they were strangers, pretending this fiction could somehow become truth.

**

That mixture of guilt, anxiety, longing, and peace continued for a couple of weeks, until everything changed one Wednesday morning.

Five was in the kitchen making coffee, still half-asleep after a night of insomnia spent thinking about Klaus, about red ropes and those sounds Klaus made when he surrendered completely, when he was kissed like the world was ending.

Several weeks had passed, and his relationship with Klaus, both as Five and as Max, seemed to be mutating with each passing week into something needful, hungry, consuming.

He heard soft footsteps behind him. Klaus emerging from his room, like every morning, a ritual Five had come to both crave and dread.

Five turned to greet him, and the words died in his throat like smoke.

Klaus was wearing new pajamas. Black satin shorts that barely covered half his thighs, so short that when Klaus stretched to reach a mug from the top shelf, Five caught a glimpse of the lower curve of his ass. The matching tank top was nearly transparent, revealing the elegant line of his collarbones, the tempting hollow of his navel, the dusky pink of his nipples beneath the fabric.

And Klaus knew exactly what he was doing.

"Good morning, Five," Klaus sang out, his eyes gleaming with something Five couldn't quite name. Amusement? Challenge? Invitation? "Sleep well?"

Five had to clear his throat twice before he could respond, his mouth desert-dry.

"Fine," he lied, his eyes betraying him by sliding down Klaus's body before he could stop them, cataloging every exposed inch like a map to treasure. "That's... new."

"The pajamas?" Klaus spun in a slow circle, giving Five the full view, and it felt deliberately cruel. The satin clung to every curve, caught the morning light in ways that should be illegal. "Yeah. Bought them yesterday. Do you like them?"

Like is a very mild way to describe it, Five thought, his mouth completely dry, his palms sweating. I want to tear them off you with my teeth. I want to mark every inch of skin they're barely covering.

"It's appropriate," Five managed to say, his voice rougher than normal, betraying him.

Klaus laughed, that musical sound that always made something in Five's chest constrict painfully, like his heart was too big for his ribcage.

"Appropriate," Klaus repeated, moving closer to take the coffee Five had prepared. He leaned over the counter, and Five had a perfect view of how the satin stretched across his ass, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. "You know, you use that word a lot. Appropriate. Like everything in life can be so easily categorized, filed away neatly."

He straightened, taking a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving Five's, pinning him in place like a butterfly to a board. "But some things aren't appropriate, are they, Five? Some things are just... necessary."

And with that, Klaus sauntered out of the kitchen, leaving Five standing there with his forgotten coffee and his heart beating far too fast, with want pooling hot and dangerous in his gut.

**

Klaus closed his bedroom door, leaned against it, and let out a shaky breath.

That had been deliberate. Obvious. And the way Five had looked at him, those eyes traveling over his body like hungry hands, like he wanted to devour, had been exactly the reaction Klaus wanted.

Except now Klaus was hard in his new satin pajamas, and that was a problem.

Because he wasn't supposed to want Five. Not like this. Not when he had Max, who could give him what he needed without the complications of their shared history, without the weight of thirty years of dysfunction.

Except Max was Five. Klaus was almost certain now, about ninety-five percent sure, and that remaining five percent was denial talking.

And that meant when he paraded in front of Five in next to nothing, when he bent over in ways he knew were provocative, when he used that tone of voice that brushed against suggestive, he was playing with fire.

He was seducing his brother. Or rather, he was testing whether his brother was the man who tied him up on Friday nights.

What's the difference? he asked himself, dropping onto his bed. Either way, I want him to touch me. Either way, I'm playing a dangerous game that's going to blow up in both our faces.

His phone buzzed, the specific sound he used only for the club's app.

Max: Good morning, красавчик. Sleep well?

Klaus smiled despite himself. Max had started using Russian pet names the previous week. Klaus had looked up their meanings, had felt his chest go warm at each translation.

Красавчик. Krasavchik. Beautiful one.

Klaus: Good morning to you too. Slept well. Dreamed about you.

It wasn't a lie. He'd dreamed about hands binding him, about lips against his neck, about that voice he couldn't hear but could feel vibrating against his skin like thunder in his bones.

Max: Good dreams or bad dreams?

Klaus: Definitely good. Though I woke up... needy.

There was a pause. Klaus could imagine Max, wherever he was, whoever he was pretending to be, reading that message, processing it, deciding how to respond.

Max: And what did you do with that need?

Klaus bit his lip, deciding how honest to be, how much truth he could weave into this web of beautiful lies they were both spinning.

Klaus: Haven't done anything yet. Thought maybe I should ask you first if I have permission.

It was a game. They both knew it. Max had never explicitly told Klaus he needed permission to touch himself. But there was something about the dynamic between them, something about how Klaus felt when he was with Max, that made him want to ask.

That made him want to be good. To please. To surrender even this small piece of control.

Max: Такой хороший мальчик. My good boy, asking so sweetly. Yes, милый, you have permission. But I want you to think of me when you do it. I want you to imagine they're my hands, not yours.

Klaus shuddered, his hand already sliding beneath the satin of his shorts, wrapping around himself with a practiced grip.

Klaus: I always think of you. About your hands. Your mouth. The way you touch me like I'm something precious rather than broken.

His hand stroked his hardness with steady rhythm, imagining Five's hands, or Max's hands, because weren't they the same?, touching him, claiming him, owning him in all the ways that mattered.

It didn't take long, especially when the next message arrived:

Max: You ARE something precious. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I wish I was there, that it was me touching you, using my hands, my mouth. Come for me, Krasavchik.

Klaus had to bite the pillow to muffle his sounds, to keep from moaning loud enough for Five to hear, because Five still hadn't left for work yet, and Klaus was almost certain that if he opened the door, he'd find Five standing there, listening, wanting.

The thought was electrifying, knowing Five might hear, might know, might be affected. So Klaus released the pillow and moaned Max's name when he came, deliberately loud, ruining his new pajamas with reckless abandon.

He let out a mischievous, satisfied laugh when he heard noise in the hallway, then the slam of the front door, harder than usual, more violent, like someone fleeing temptation they couldn't resist much longer.

Klaus: Don't say things like that, I came way too fast.

He typed while tasting himself on his fingers as he cleaned up with tissues, feeling deliciously debauched.

Max: Good boy. Friday can't come fast enough.

Klaus: Do you miss me?

Max: Every second you're not in my arms.

And God, Klaus wanted that to be real. Wanted Max to be a real person, not a mask his brother wore to touch him without guilt, without consequences.

Except Max felt real. More real than anything in Klaus's life had felt in a long time.

Klaus: I bought something new. Want to see it?

Max: Always.

Klaus got up from his bed, went to his closet, and pulled out yesterday's shopping bag. Inside were three new lingerie sets, each more provocative than the last, a escalation of need and want and desperation.

He chose the red one. Always red for Max. Red like the ropes. Red like blood and passion and all the dangerous things they couldn't say out loud.

He put it on in front of the mirror, adjusting the garters, making sure the stockings were perfect, that every line and curve was displayed to maximum advantage. Then he took a photo, angled perfectly to show the curve of his hip, the lace against his pale skin, teasing without revealing his face, maintaining the fiction, protecting them both.

Klaus: What do you think?

He sent the photo and waited, his heart beating too fast, anticipation coiling tight in his belly.

The response took longer than usual. Klaus could imagine Max staring at the photo, processing it, deciding how to respond without giving himself away.

Max: Боже мой. My God. Klaus, you're... I don't have words. Beautiful isn't enough. Perfect falls short. I want to tear that off you with my teeth.

Klaus smiled, pleased with himself, with the reaction he'd provoked.

Klaus: You can do that Friday. If you want.

Max: Oh, I will. Trust me, солнышко. I absolutely will.

Solnishko. My sunshine.

Klaus had almost cried when he'd looked that one up, the tenderness of it hitting him somewhere deep and vulnerable.

**

Five was in his office at CIA headquarters when he received the photo.

He'd been in the middle of a mind-numbing meeting about security protocols when his burner phone vibrated in his pocket. Normally he'd ignore it, protocol dictated nothing was more important than the mission.

But some instinct, some sixth sense developed over forty-five years of survival, told him to check.

He excused himself, left the conference room, locked himself in the bathroom like a teenager hiding something shameful.

And opened Klaus's message.

The photo hit him like a fist to the solar plexus, knocking the air from his lungs.

Klaus. In red. Lace that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, that invited imagination while simultaneously making it unnecessary. Garters attached to stockings that made his legs look endless. The curve of his hip, the line of his back, the lace barely covering what needed to be covered.

Five had to brace himself against the bathroom wall, his breathing coming in ragged gasps, his vision tunneling.

Fuck, he thought, his free hand pressing against his groin where he was already embarrassingly hard. As if this morning wasn't enough torture. He still remembered Klaus moaning his name in that needy way, had fled the apartment not just because of how uncomfortable his pants had become but to stop himself from barging into Klaus's room and giving him pleasure, making him scream his name, as Five, not as Max.

He's killing me. Deliberately and with extreme prejudice.

He responded as Max, because Five Hargreeves couldn't say these things, couldn't admit how much he wanted, how much he needed, how completely he'd lost control.

But Max could.

Max could be honest about the desire burning through him like wildfire. Max could tell Klaus exactly what he wanted to do, exactly how it felt to see that photo, could be raw and vulnerable in ways Five had forgotten how to be.

Max could be what Five wouldn't let himself be.

He saved the phone, splashed cold water on his face, and tried to calm down enough to return to the meeting.

But he couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that photo. Klaus in red. Klaus deliberately provoking him. Klaus being absolutely, devastatingly perfect.

He left work early, claiming a migraine that wasn't completely a lie. His head throbbed, not from pain but from unresolved desire, from the constant effort of maintaining two separate identities, from wanting something so badly it physically hurt. The worst part was he still had several hours before he could go home.

When he finally escaped, he drove home on autopilot, his mind spinning in circles like a hamster wheel going nowhere.

Klaus had sent more photos during the day, nothing explicit, but suggestive enough to keep Five in a constant state of arousal. Which meant Klaus was probably home now. Which meant Five would have to see him, talk to him, pretend he hadn't spent the last thirty minutes staring at photos of Klaus in lingerie like a man possessed.

I can do this, he told himself while unlocking the apartment door. I survived forty-five years in the apocalypse. I can survive dinner with Klaus.

But then he walked in and found Klaus in the kitchen.

Wearing those goddamn satin pajamas again.

**

Klaus knew the exact moment Five entered the apartment.

He heard it in the way the door opened, that moment of pause before closing it, like Five was gathering courage. He heard it in the footsteps, slightly heavier than usual, weighted with tension.

And when Five appeared in the kitchen doorway, Klaus could see the strain in his shoulders, the tense line of his jaw, the way his eyes immediately found Klaus's body and stayed there like magnets to metal.

"You're home early," Klaus commented casually, chopping vegetables for dinner with practiced ease. He'd offered to cook, mainly because it gave him an excuse to be in revealing clothes without it seeming completely obvious. He'd had to wash the pajamas after this morning's activities, but fortunately they'd dried quickly.

"Meetings canceled," Five lied, his voice strained, and Klaus could hear the untruth in it.

Klaus leaned over the counter, deliberately aware of how the movement made the satin stretch across his ass, putting himself on display.

"Rough day?"

"Something like that."

Klaus turned to look at him, propping his hip against the counter in a pose he knew showed off his legs, his waist, the tantalizing gap between his thighs.

"Want to talk about it?"

No, Five's expression said clearly. I want to rip off those pajamas and fuck you against this counter until you forget your own name.

But what Five said aloud was: "Not much to say. Just boring bureaucracy."

Klaus nodded, then, because he was a masochist and because he needed to know, needed to push this to its breaking point, said: "Did I show you what I bought yesterday? Besides the pajamas, I mean."

"No," Five said carefully, his voice controlled but his eyes wild.

"Wait here."

Klaus left the kitchen, feeling Five's eyes burning into his back like brands. He went to his room, retrieved the shopping bag, and returned with his prize.

"Look," Klaus pulled out the red ensemble, holding it up against himself, modeling it without actually wearing it. "What do you think? Is it too much?"

He watched Five carefully, cataloging every micro-expression. Saw how his eyes widened slightly. Saw how his jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth. Saw how his hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles going white with restraint.

"It's…" Five cleared his throat, and the sound was rough, desperate. "Who did you buy it for?"

"Someone I know," Klaus said vaguely, enjoying this far too much, dancing along the edge of something dangerous and thrilling. "Someone who appreciates these things."

"Max?" Five asked, and there was something in his voice, something sharp and jagged, like broken glass.

Bingo, Klaus thought, because Klaus had never mentioned that name at home, had been careful to keep his Friday nights separate from his daily life.

"Have I told you about him?" he asked, watching Five with cat-like curiosity.

Shit, Five thought, realizing he'd revealed himself, had let the mask slip. "You mentioned him the other day. I think it was Max, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Klaus confirmed, still watching, still testing. "For Max. Do you think he'll like it?"

Five looked at him for a long moment. There was torture in those eyes, and desire, and something darker that Klaus couldn't fully identify, something that looked like desperation mixed with resignation.

"He'll love it," Five said finally, his voice hoarse, scraped raw. "Anyone would."

"Even you?" Klaus couldn't resist asking, pushing that final button.

The silence stretched between them, charged with everything they couldn't say, weighted with all their unspoken truths.

"Especially me," Five admitted finally, so quietly Klaus almost didn't hear it, an confession dragged from somewhere deep and honest.

And then Five fled the kitchen like demons were chasing him, leaving Klaus standing there with red lingerie in his hands and his heart hammering like a war drum, victory and fear tangled together in his chest.

**

Five locked himself in his bedroom and leaned against the door, his breathing coming in irregular gasps, his hands shaking.

What the fuck did you just do? he asked himself furiously. "Especially me"? Really? Might as well have told him you're Max while you were at it.

He'd crossed a line. He knew it, and he couldn't take those words back, couldn't unsay what had been said.

His personal phone buzzed. A message from Klaus.

Klaus: Hey, about what you said... are you okay?

No, Five wanted to respond. I'm not okay. I'm in love with you and I'm pretending to be someone else so I can touch you and I'm losing my mind piece by piece.

Instead, he wrote:

Five: I'm fine. Just tired, going to sleep. And I was honest. It's a beautiful set. Whoever receives it is lucky.

Klaus: Are you jealous?

Yes, Five thought. Jealous of myself, which is the most ridiculous thing in the world. Jealous that Max gets to touch you while Five has to watch from a distance.

Five: I don't have the right to be jealous.

Klaus: That doesn't answer my question.

Five: I don't want to have this conversation, Klaus.

This was already bordering on ridiculous, they were less than five meters apart, but they were texting each other because Five couldn't face Klaus, couldn't look at him without everything spilling out.

Klaus: Okay, but Five... if you ever want to talk. About anything. I'm here. I'll leave dinner in the fridge in case you get hungry.

Five put away his phone, stripped off his clothes, and got into the shower.

Cold water. He needed cold water to shock the desire out of his system.

But even under the icy stream, all he could think about was Klaus in those satin pajamas, Klaus holding that red ensemble, Klaus asking if he was jealous.

And the answer was yes. He was jealous. Furiously and irrationally jealous.

Of himself.

Pathetic, he thought with self-directed anger, slamming his fist against the tile.

**

That night, Five lay in his bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of Klaus moving around in the next room, a torture more exquisite than anything the Commission had ever done to him.

His phone was on his nightstand. He shouldn't text Klaus. Shouldn't subject himself to more torture in one day.

But his fingers were already reaching for it, opening it, going to his messages with Klaus, the other Klaus, the one who didn't know who Max really was.

He wrote and deleted five different messages before finally sending:

Max: Are you still awake, солнышко?

The response came almost immediately:

Klaus: Yes. Can't sleep.

Max: Why not?

Klaus: Thinking about you. About Friday. About that set I bought.

Max: Tell me what you're thinking exactly.

Klaus: I'm thinking about how it'll feel when you take it off me. Whether you'll be gentle or whether you'll just rip it off.

Five closed his eyes, his hand already sliding beneath the sheets, wrapping around himself with desperate need.

Max: Depends on how patient I'm feeling. On how good you've been.

Klaus: I've been very good. I promise.

Max: Have you? What have you done to be so good?

Klaus: I waited. Didn't touch myself without permission. Thought about you all day.

Max: Are you touching yourself now?

Klaus: No. Should I?

Max: Yes. Touch yourself for me, милый. But slow. I want it to last.

The idea that Klaus was touching himself right now, in the next room, just meters away, was electrifying and torturous, and even more so knowing they were both doing it simultaneously, separated by a wall but connected by want.

**

Klaus was in his bed, his phone in one hand, the other sliding beneath his satin pajamas with practiced ease.

He knew this was dangerous. Knew he was playing with fire, dancing along the edge of a cliff.

But he couldn't stop. Didn't want to stop.

Klaus: What are you imagining?

Max: I'm imagining you in that bed. In those pajamas you're wearing right now.

Klaus froze, his hand stopping mid-stroke.

How does he know what I'm wearing?

Klaus: How do you know what I'm wearing?

There was a long pause. Klaus could imagine Five or Max, or whoever, realizing his mistake, cursing himself for slipping up.

Max: You mentioned it before. The black satin pajamas.

No, I didn't, Klaus thought, his heart racing with the thrill of catching Five in a lie. I never told Max about the pajamas. Oh Fivey, you're getting sloppy.

But he decided to let it pass. For now. To see how far Five would take this before it all came crashing down.

Klaus: Oh, right. Yes, I'm wearing them. They're comfortable. And they make me feel... pretty.

Max: You're more than pretty. You're devastatingly beautiful. And you're killing me with these conversations.

Klaus: In a good way?

Max: In the best way. In the way that makes me want to be there with you right now. Want to take off those pajamas slowly and kiss every inch of skin I reveal.

Klaus could imagine that, could picture Five sliding the satin shorts down his legs with those beautiful hands, kissing his thighs in the process. So slow it would be torturous and enchanting simultaneously.

Klaus moaned softly, his hand moving faster, chasing the pleasure building at the base of his spine.

Klaus: Keep going. Tell me more.

Max: I'd start with your neck. That spot just below your ear that makes you shiver. Then I'd move down, kissing your collarbone, your chest. I'd take my time with each rib, each line of your abdomen. And when I reached that V that disappears below your waistband, I'd stop. Make you wait. Make you beg.

Klaus: You're cruel.

Max: No, солнышко. I'm patient. There's a difference. Because when I finally touch you where you need it most, I want you so desperate that the slightest touch makes you tremble.

Klaus: I'm already there. Already desperate.

Max: Good. Come for me, красавчик. Think of my hands, my mouth. Think of Friday when I can touch you for real.

Klaus came with a muffled cry, his body arching on the bed, Max's name on his lips like a prayer or a curse.

Or Five's name, he thought while coming down from his climax, reality bleeding back in. Because they're the same person, aren't they?

Here's the enhanced translation with deeper emotional complexity, passion, and explicit detail:

**

Five came too, his hand wrapped around himself, imagining it was Klaus's mouth, Klaus's hands, Klaus's body trembling beneath him, giving himself over completely in ways he'd never allowed before.

He cleaned himself with a towel he kept beside the bed for exactly this purpose, his breathing still ragged, his heart still racing like he'd run a marathon through fire.

This was out of control.

It had started as a way to give Klaus what he needed without complicating their relationship. It had been rational, pragmatic, a calculated solution to an impossible problem.

Now it was addiction. It was need. It was the only thing Five could think about, consuming every waking moment and most of his dreams.

And the worst part was that Klaus was playing with him. Klaus, who definitely suspected something, who sent provocative photos, who paraded around in revealing pajamas, who asked if Five was jealous with that knowing gleam in his eyes.

Klaus knew. Or at least suspected strongly enough that the distinction hardly mattered.

And instead of confronting him, instead of ending this beautiful lie, Klaus was playing. Testing. Seducing with the precision of someone who knew exactly what buttons to push.

What happens when he gets tired of the game? Five wondered, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, his chest tight with dread. What happens when he decides he wants answers? When he demands I take off the mask?

He had no answer for that. No contingency plan, no escape route—he who'd spent forty-five years always having a backup plan.

He only knew that when Friday arrived, when Klaus appeared at the club wearing that red ensemble, Five wasn't going to be able to maintain control.

Not anymore.

**

Thursday afternoon, Klaus was in a boutique downtown, trying on heels.

Not just any heels. Stripper heels, the saleswoman called them with a knowing smile, the kind that said she'd seen people buy these for all sorts of reasons and didn't judge. Six-inch platforms that made his legs look endless, that changed the way his entire body moved.

He looked at himself in the mirror, turning to see all angles, admiring the way they transformed him into something dangerous and desired.

He looked good. He looked lethal.

He looked like sin in shoes.

He took a photo in the mirror, making sure to capture the length of his legs, the tense muscles of his calves, the way the heels made his ass look, round and firm and biteable.

Klaus: What do you think? Too much?

He sent the photo to Max and waited, his heart beating faster with anticipation.

The response came quickly:

Max: Buy them. And Friday, I want you to wear them. Just the heels and that red ensemble. Nothing else.

Klaus smiled, pleased with himself, with the reaction he'd provoked.

Klaus: Is that an order?

Max: Yes, милый. It's an order.

Klaus: And if I disobey?

Max: Then I'll have to punish you. And trust me, красавчик, my punishment and my reward are sometimes the same thing.

Klaus bought three pairs. Black, red, and silver, an arsenal of temptation.

When he got home, Five was in the living room, working on his laptop with that intense focus that made him look dangerous and beautiful simultaneously.

"Hey," Klaus said cheerfully, dropping his shopping bags on the couch with deliberate casualness. "Went shopping."

Five looked up, his expression cautious but hungry, Klaus could see how he clenched his jaw, fighting for control.

"Can I see?"

"Sure."

Klaus pulled out the box of black heels, opening it with careful ceremony. He slipped off his casual shoes and put on the heels, standing in front of Five like a model on a runway.

"What do you think?"

Five looked at him, and Klaus saw the exact moment his control slipped, the moment his eyes traveled up Klaus's legs slowly, lingering on the curve of his hip, the plane of his abdomen, before finally finding his face.

"They're," Five cleared his throat, his voice rough, "tall."

"Six inches," Klaus confirmed, doing a slow turn that was pure provocation. "They make me feel powerful. Like I could conquer the world."

"You look," Five stopped, clearly searching for the right word, for something safe to say, "dangerous."

Klaus smiled, predatory and pleased.

"In a good way?"

"In the way that someone's going to get hurt," Five said, and there was something in his voice, something raw and needy that made Klaus's pulse spike.

Klaus moved closer, standing directly in front of Five, close enough that Five had to tilt his head up to maintain eye contact, a reversal of their usual dynamic that felt charged with meaning.

"Hurt?" Klaus asked softly, innocently. "Do you think I'd hurt you?"

Five looked at him for a long moment. There was war in those eyes, desire fighting control, need battling denial, want wrestling with fear.

"I'm already hurt," Five admitted finally, so quietly Klaus almost didn't hear it, a confession torn from somewhere deep and honest.

And then Five closed his laptop, stood up, and left the room, leaving Klaus standing there in his new heels with his heart beating too fast and victory tasting bittersweet on his tongue.

**

Five locked himself in the bathroom, turned on the cold water tap, and splashed his face repeatedly like he could wash away the want.

Get it together, he ordered his reflection with barely controlled fury. It's Klaus. Your brother. Your roommate. Don't ruin this. Don't push Klaus away. You can't lose him again...

But his phone was vibrating. Another message from Klaus, because apparently the universe hated him.

Klaus: Did you like the heels?

Five could lie. Could be professional, distant, appropriate, all the things he'd trained himself to be.

But the question was directed at Max, so he wrote the truth:

Max: They're driving me insane. All I can think about is having you wear just those heels and nothing else. Having your legs wrapped around me while...

He stopped, deleting that last part with shaking fingers. Too far. Too honest. Too revealing.

Max: The heels are perfect. Friday is going to be difficult for me to maintain control.

Klaus: Who says I want you to maintain control?

Five closed his eyes, bracing himself against the sink, knuckles white with pressure.

Max: Careful, солнышко. Don't provoke me unless you're ready for the consequences.

Klaus: Maybe I want the consequences. Maybe I've been provoking you deliberately.

Max: Have you been?

Klaus: Guess, Sunshine.

And with that stupid nickname Klaus called him every morning, Sunshine, like Five was something bright and warm instead of sharp and dangerous, Five knew with absolute certainty that Klaus knew.

Maybe not all the details, maybe not completely sure, but he suspected strongly enough that the mask was transparent.

And instead of running, instead of confronting, Klaus was playing.

He was actively seducing Five through Max, while also seducing Five directly, a pincer attack that left no escape routes.

It was brilliant and terrible, and Five was completely, irrevocably lost.

Max: Friday. I'm going to show you exactly what happens when you provoke me.

Klaus: Promises, promises.

Max: It's not a promise, милый. It's a warning.

Five put away his phone, looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, and realized he'd lost completely.

Klaus had won this game they were playing.

The only question was what Klaus would do with his victory, whether he'd be merciful or merciless.

**

Five had changed the room.

No more couch. Tonight, there was a bed.

King-sized, draped in black silk sheets that had cost a ridiculous fortune. Pillows piled against the headboard. And anchor points, discreet but strong, installed specifically for what Five planned to do.

Because tonight wasn't going to be like the others.

Tonight he was going to take what he needed. He was going to give Klaus what he'd been asking for with every provocation, every photo, every loaded glance.

Tonight, Five was going to make love to Klaus. And God help him, because he no longer cared if it was right or wrong. He only knew that if he didn't have Klaus soon, completely, utterly, irrevocably, he was going to lose his mind.

He checked everything one last time with the obsessive precision of someone preparing for battle. The red ropes, perfectly coiled and ready. Lubricant, generous amounts, on the nightstand. Condoms, though part of him wanted to feel Klaus without any barrier between them. Soft towels for cleanup afterward. Water. Chocolate. Everything Klaus might need.

And candles. Dozens of unscented candles, transforming the room into something between sacred and sinful, a temple to their shared need.

His phone buzzed. Klaus had arrived.

Five had spent the past week being mercilessly provoked. The satin pajamas that left nothing to imagination. The lingerie photos that burned themselves into his retinas. The heels modeled in the living room with deliberate seduction. Klaus bending over in ways that couldn't be accidental. That damned question: "Jealous?"

Tonight, Klaus was going to pay for every provocation with pleasure so intense it bordered on torture.

He breathed deeply, adjusted his mask one final time, and went to find him.

**

When Five saw Klaus waiting in the common area, something in his chest tightened so hard it almost hurt, like his heart was trying to break free from his ribcage.

The eyes of several dominants landed on Klaus, and for an instant Five wanted to tear out their eyes for daring to look, for daring to want what was his. But he couldn't blame them either.

Klaus looked like lust incarnate wearing red. The ensemble he'd bought, that he'd modeled at home, that he'd sent photos wearing. Lace that revealed everything and nothing simultaneously, playing the line between modest and obscene with artistic precision. Garters perfectly attached to stockings that made his legs look infinite. And the heels, those damned red six-inch heels that made Klaus move with feline grace, predatory and sensual.

Klaus saw him approaching, and his smile was pure challenge, pure invitation, pure finally.

"Hello, Max," he said, and Five heard the question beneath that name, heard I know it's you wrapped in careful syllables.

Five extended his hand. Klaus took it, and when their fingers intertwined, Five felt electricity race up his arm, settle in his chest, shoot straight to his groin with devastating accuracy.

Mine, he thought fiercely, possessively. Tonight, finally mine.

He guided them to the room in silence, aware of every point where their bodies touched, aware of how Klaus walked in those heels, confident and provocative, aware that every step brought them closer to the point of no return.

When the door closed behind them, Klaus turned to survey the room and stopped, his breath catching audibly.

"A bed," Klaus said softly, and there was something vulnerable in his voice. "Tonight is definitely different."

Five nodded, moving closer until he stood directly behind Klaus, his chest almost touching Klaus's back, heat radiating between them.

He raised his whiteboard:

Tonight I'm going to take you. Completely. If that's not what you want, say red now and we stop. No questions, no judgment.

Klaus turned to look at him, and there was something in his eyes, something that looked dangerously like love, like devotion, like finally.

"Green," Klaus whispered, his voice shaking slightly. "Very, very green, Max."

Five reached out, his hand rising to trace the line of Klaus's jaw with reverent fingers.

"Beautiful," he murmured, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't supposed to speak, that silence was his disguise.

But Klaus didn't react with surprise. He just smiled, that knowledge in his eyes that said he'd been waiting for that slip, hoping for it.

"Thank you," Klaus whispered, leaning into the touch like a cat seeking warmth.

Five picked up his whiteboard again:

I'm going to take my time tonight. I'm going to touch you until you beg. I'm going to prepare you until you can't think about anything but feeling me inside you. Do you understand?

Klaus swallowed visibly, his pupils dilating until his eyes were almost black with want.

"Yes."

Color?

"Green. Always green with you."

With you, Five noted. Not "for this." With you.

Five guided Klaus toward the bed, helping him remove the heels first. They dropped to the floor with two heavy thuds, and for a moment Five hesitated, having the fantasy of taking Klaus with the heels still on, but tonight, possibly their last night, he wanted to feel Klaus completely, without barriers.

Then, slowly, he began to untie the garters from the silk stockings. Each one was removed with reverent care, his fingers deliberately brushing Klaus's skin, making him shiver beneath his hands like an instrument being tuned.

"Cold," Klaus murmured, though they both knew it was a lie.

Five shook his head, pressing his palm against Klaus's abdomen where he could feel the rapid flutter of his pulse.

"Hot," he said, another word escaping before he could cage it.

Klaus looked at him, something shifting in his expression, recognition crystallizing into certainty.

"Your voice," Klaus began, but Five silenced him by pressing two fingers against his lips in a gesture that was both dominant command and silent plea.

He couldn't risk more slips. Not yet. Not until this was done.

He continued removing the ensemble completely, leaving Klaus naked except for the collar he always wore, that simple black band that now felt weighted with meaning.

Five stepped back, simply looking, admiring Klaus under the candlelight. Klaus vulnerable. Klaus trusting. Klaus being completely his in ways that transcended the physical.

"Lie down," Five instructed with gestures, pointing to the center of the bed.

Klaus obeyed, his body sinking into the black silk, his pale skin contrasting beautifully, art painted in flesh and need.

Five picked up the ropes. The bondage tonight was going to be different, more intimate, more vulnerable.

He started with Klaus's arms, but instead of tying them behind his back, he stretched them upward, anchoring them to the headboard. The knots were secure but not too tight, allowing some movement but no escape, the illusion of control while surrendering it completely.

Then the legs. Five bent them, knees toward Klaus's chest, and tied them in that position, exposing him completely, open, vulnerable, at Five's mercy.

Klaus gasped when he realized the position Five had put him in, understanding blooming across his features.

"God," Klaus whispered, voice shaking. "I'm completely..."

"Mine," Five said, the word emerging without permission, raw and possessive. "Completely mine."

And Klaus, instead of questioning, instead of joking to deflect as he always did, simply nodded with devastating honesty.

"Yes. Yours."

Five removed his shirt slowly, deliberately aware of Klaus's eyes following every movement like he was cataloging each exposed inch. His pants followed, leaving him in only his underwear and the mask, the final barriers between truth and lie.

He knelt on the bed between Klaus's bound legs and simply looked, drinking in the sight like a man dying of thirst.

Klaus in red ropes. Klaus exposed. Klaus waiting with accelerated breathing, flushed cheeks, and glassy eyes full of lust and trust and something deeper.

Five leaned down, smiling in an uncommon way, and kissed the inside of Klaus's thigh, softly at first, while his hands caressed the smooth, waxed skin.

Klaus shuddered, a small sound escaping his throat, half pleasure, half desperate need.

Five smiled against his skin and bit down, just hard enough to leave a mark that would last for days, that would remind Klaus of this night every time he moved.

Klaus cried out, his body arching in the ropes, straining against restraints that held firm.

"Max, please."

Five raised his whiteboard:

Please what?

"Touch me. I need you to touch me."

Five shook his head slowly. Klaus had been playing with him for weeks, putting him in compromising situations on more than one occasion, nearly getting him discovered by his superiors with badly timed messages and provocative photos.

So tonight he would take his time. Would be slow and torturous. Would teach Klaus exactly what provocation earned him.

First I'm going to taste you, he wrote with trembling hands.

And before Klaus could process those words, Five lowered his head and took Klaus's cock in his mouth.

The taste of Klaus exploded on Five's tongue, salt, musk, and something uniquely Klaus, something Five had fantasized about for two years but never thought he'd experience. His hands couldn't stay still, caressing those legs, that round ass, learning every contour, knowing he was leaving the impression of his fingers in that sensitive flesh.

Klaus screamed, his body trying to arch but the ropes holding him in place, keeping him exactly where Five wanted him.

"Oh God, oh God, Max, I can't, it's too much."

Five ignored him, working Klaus with his mouth, his tongue, his lips and his hands. He'd always been practical, methodical, and he'd researched this extensively, wanting to dismantle Klaus with just his mouth. And judging by the desperate moans, he was doing an excellent job.

He took Klaus to the edge quickly, feeling how his body tensed, how his breathing became erratic, how he teetered on the precipice of release.

And then he stopped, pulling away completely, admiring his work, the way Klaus sweated and breathed raggedly, looking at him with frustration and pleading warring in his expression.

Klaus made a sound that was half sob, half protest.

"Why did you stop?"

Five raised his whiteboard with a cruel smile:

Because tonight you're going to come with my cock inside you. Not before.

Klaus moaned, his head falling back against the pillows in surrender.

"You're cruel."

Five traced a finger down the center of Klaus's chest, down, down, until he circled Klaus's cock without giving him the friction he needed. He was being cruel and he knew it, but it was so thrilling to have his Klaus like this, desperate and needy and completely at his mercy.

I'm not cruel. I'm patient. There's a difference, he wrote on his whiteboard, nearly laughing at Klaus's frustrated sound.

He reached for the lubricant on the nightstand, warming it between his hands first, another detail learned from exhaustive research.

Then, slowly, with reverent care, he began to prepare Klaus.

Five had researched this exhaustively. Had read medical articles, guides, personal experiences. He knew exactly how to make it pleasurable instead of painful, how to turn preparation into foreplay.

One finger first, sliding inside while he watched Klaus's face for any sign of discomfort, any hint he needed to stop.

Klaus gasped, his eyes widening with surprise and pleasure.

"Oh. Oh, that's..."

Five waited, giving him time to adjust, kissing his thighs, scraping with his teeth in places that made Klaus shudder. Then he began to move his finger, searching, probing, until Klaus suddenly screamed, his body convulsing in the restraints.

There, Five thought with dark satisfaction. His prostate.

He touched that spot again, releasing a low laugh when Klaus cursed him in German, a language Five had taught him years ago during a long car ride. He added a second finger, stretching carefully, hitting that spot again and again until Klaus was trembling, sweating, begging incoherently.

"Please, please, Max, I need more, I need..."

"What do you need?" Five asked, his voice hoarse, almost unrecognizable even to himself, scraped raw with want.

And Klaus, lost in sensation, in overwhelming need, in the vulnerability of complete surrender, responded without thinking:

"I need you, Five. Please."

The world stopped.

Five froze, his fingers still inside Klaus, his mind struggling to process what he'd just heard, what Klaus had just admitted.

Klaus had said his name. His real name.

Not Max. Five.

He knows, Five thought, and the realization crashed through him like a tidal wave, panic and relief and terror and hope intertwining like the ropes around Klaus's body. He knows and he still let me touch him. He knows and he's still here, still trusting me, still wanting me.

But instead of confronting it, instead of ripping off the mask and laying himself bare, Five added a third finger, this time with slightly more force, slightly more desperation, needing to keep Klaus lost in sensation so he wouldn't have to face the truth yet. Klaus screamed, the sound raw and beautiful, apparently without registering his slip, too drunk on pleasure to realize he'd just shattered their carefully constructed fiction.

And Five decided to play along, to pretend he hadn't heard his own name fall from Klaus's lips like a prayer. He worked Klaus open with methodical precision that barely concealed his desperation, stretching him until he was ready, until he was begging with incoherent words that sounded like please and need you and always you.

Five knelt between Klaus's bound legs, his cock hard and leaking, aching so badly it was almost unbearable, two years of denial and longing concentrated into this single moment. He rolled on the condom with hands that trembled despite forty-five years of training that should have steadied them, added more lubricant with movements that felt ritualistic, sacred.

Then he positioned himself at Klaus's entrance, and the reality of what he was about to do hit him with devastating force.

This was Klaus. His Klaus. The brother he'd tried to save, the man he'd fallen in love with, the person who'd haunted every thought for two years. And he was finally, finally going to have him completely.

"Look at me," Five ordered, his voice breaking on the words because this moment mattered more than anything in his entire life, more than surviving the apocalypse, more than stopping timeline collapses, more than his own beating heart.

Klaus's eyes opened, finding Five's through the mask, and there was so much in that gaze, trust and desire and love and knowledge. Klaus saw him. Really saw him. Had probably always seen him.

And Five pushed inside.

The sensation of entering Klaus was overwhelming, not just physically, though the tight heat was almost too much, almost painful in its perfection. But emotionally. This was Klaus wrapped around him, Klaus's body accepting him, Klaus surrendering in the most profound way possible.

Five had to stop once he was fully seated, his entire body trembling with the effort of staying still. Because if he moved, if he started, he was afraid he'd shatter completely, would break apart into pieces that could never be reassembled.

"God," Klaus gasped, his voice wrecked and beautiful. "You're so…Five I can't…you feel like…"

And there it was again. His name. Not Max. Five.

"I know," Five whispered, forgetting himself, forgetting the pretense. "I know, солнышко. I feel it too."

He waited, motionless, giving Klaus time to adjust while his hands began to move with reverent desperation. One hand slid up Klaus's abdomen, and Five could feel Klaus's heart racing beneath his palm, could feel the life and warmth and realness of him. He traced each rib like he was reading braille, memorizing a story written in bone and flesh.

His other hand gripped Klaus's hip, holding on like Klaus was his anchor to reality, to sanity, to everything that mattered.

"Color?" Five managed to ask, though his voice was so raw it barely sounded human.

"Green," Klaus breathed, and then, quieter, more vulnerable: "Always green with you. Always yes. Always yours."

Something in Five's chest cracked open at those words, something that had been locked tight for decades, protecting itself, protecting him from feeling too much.

He withdrew slowly, watching Klaus's face, seeing every micro-expression of loss and need. Then he thrust back in, and Klaus's scream was the most beautiful sound Five had ever heard.

"Do you know," Five gasped, establishing a rhythm that was part worship, part desperation, "what you've been doing to me?"

Each word was punctuated by a thrust, each movement carrying two years of repressed longing.

"Every morning in those pajamas," thrust, "every smile," thrust, "every time you touched me like it meant nothing when it meant everything."

Klaus moaned, his body arching, straining against the ropes that held him exactly where Five needed him.

"I'm sorry," Klaus sobbed, but Five could hear the lie in it, could hear the satisfaction, the triumph of finally getting what he wanted.

"No, you're not," Five growled, and his hand left Klaus's hip to deliver a sharp slap to his ass.

The sound echoed like a gunshot, and Klaus screamed, but not in pain. In relief. In finally.

"God, yes!" Klaus cried out. "Yes, mark me, make me yours, I've been waiting so long…"

Five spanked him again, harder this time, leaving a vivid handprint. "You've been teasing me. Testing me. Pushing every boundary to see if I'd break."

"Yes," Klaus admitted through tears that weren't from pain but from overwhelming emotion. "Yes, I wanted you to break, wanted you to take me, wanted you to stop pretending you didn't want this as much as I did!"

The confession hung between them, raw and honest, and Five felt something fundamental shift in his chest.

"You're mine," Five said, and it wasn't a question. It was a vow. "You've always been mine, haven't you? Even when I didn't know I could have you."

"Always," Klaus sobbed. "Always yours, Five, always only yours—"

Five increased his pace, fucking Klaus with abandon now, all pretense of control abandoned. His hand wrapped around Klaus's cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, and he could feel Klaus getting close, could feel his body tensing, preparing.

And then Five stopped completely.

Klaus's sob of frustration was heartbreaking and perfect.

"Why…please…I need…"

"Because I need you to feel this," Five said, his voice shaking. "I need you to remember every second. I need this branded into your soul the way it's branded into mine."

He started again, slower this time, deeper, each thrust deliberate and meaningful. And when Klaus got close again, he stopped.

He did it again. And again. Taking Klaus to the edge of oblivion and pulling him back, until Klaus was sobbing openly, his entire body trembling, words spilling from his lips without filter.

"Please, please, Max, Five, whoever you are, please let me come, I need it, I need you, I've needed you for so long, please don't make me wait anymore—"

And hearing his name again, hearing the desperation, the love in Klaus's voice, broke something in Five.

"What are you going to remember?" Five asked, his voice rough with emotion. "When you look at me across the breakfast table tomorrow, what will you think about?"

"This," Klaus gasped. "How you make me feel whole. How you make me feel seen. How loving you is the only thing that's ever made sense in my entire broken life."

Loving you.

Five's rhythm faltered. "Klaus…"

"I love you," Klaus said clearly despite the tears, despite the overwhelming sensation, despite everything. "I'm in love with you... I love you"

Five couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Could only feel the weight of those words settling into his bones like they belonged there.

"Come for me," Five commanded, his voice breaking. "Come for me, красавчик. Let me feel you fall apart."

He angled his hips to hit Klaus's prostate with surgical precision while stroking his cock, and murmured against Klaus's lips: "I love you too. God help me, I love you so much it terrifies me."

Klaus shattered with a scream that sounded like Five's name and hallelujah combined, his body convulsing, tightening around Five like a vice.

And Five followed him over that edge, thrusting deep one final time, coming so hard his vision whited out. But even through the overwhelming pleasure, all he could think was: Klaus loves me. Klaus loves me. Klaus loves me.

He collapsed onto Klaus, both of them trembling and sobbing and completely destroyed in the most beautiful way.

"I've got you," Five whispered against Klaus's neck, pressing kiss after kiss to sweat-damp skin. "I've got you, I've always had you, I'll never let you go."

"Promise?" Klaus asked, his voice small and vulnerable in a way that broke Five's heart.

"I promise," Five said, and meant it with every fiber of his being.

After several minutes of just breathing together, learning how to exist in this new reality, Five forced himself to move. He withdrew carefully, hating the loss of connection, and removed the condom with shaking hands.

Klaus watched him with dazed eyes, and Five took his time cleaning them both with reverent care, like Klaus was something sacred that had been entrusted to him.

Then he began untying Klaus, checking every inch of skin, massaging circulation back into limbs, cataloging every mark he'd left with mixture of guilt and fierce satisfaction.

The rope marks were deep, would last for days. Evidence of what they'd done. Proof that this was real.

"Beautiful," Five whispered, tracing a particularly deep mark on Klaus's wrist. "You're so beautiful like this. Marked as mine."

"Yours," Klaus agreed sleepily. "Always yours."

Five gathered Klaus into his arms, wrapping him in silk sheets and warmth and safety. Klaus curled against his chest like he belonged there, like he'd always belonged there.

"That was," Klaus murmured, "better than every fantasy I've ever had. And I've had a lot of fantasies about you."

Five huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to Klaus's hair. "Tell me about them sometime."

"Mmm, maybe I'll show you instead."

They lay there in comfortable silence, trading soft kisses that tasted like truth and possibility and home. Five offered Klaus water and Klaus drank, then settled back against Five's chest with a contented sigh.

For several perfect minutes, Five let himself believe this could last. That they'd survived the worst. That the truth was out and everything would be okay.

And then Klaus, with his head over Five's heart, whispered so softly Five almost missed it:

"Five."

The world stopped.

**

Klaus had been waiting for the right moment. He'd planned this carefully, not during sex when Five could hide behind physical sensation, not immediately after when Five would be in caretaker mode.

Now. When Five's defenses were down. When he thought he was safe. When he thought Klaus was too blissed out to think clearly.

"Five," Klaus repeated, lifting his head to look directly into those eyes behind the mask, eyes he'd known his entire life, disguised but unmistakable.

He felt Five's entire body go rigid, felt his breathing stop, felt panic flood through him like ice water.

But Klaus held on, his hands gripping Five's arms to prevent him from fleeing.

"How much longer?" Klaus asked softly, gently, with all the love he felt bleeding into his voice. "How much longer are we going to play this game? How much longer are you going to hide from me?"

Silence. Terrible, stretching silence.

Klaus reached up, fingers gentle against the edge of the mask.

"I can take it off," he offered. "Or you can. But my love…the game is over. We both know it's over."

My love.  

"When?" Five asked finally, and his voice was destroyed. "When did you know?"

"When was I certain?" Klaus traced the mask's edge with tender fingers. "A few weeks ago, when Max mentioned my pajamas that I never told him about. When did I suspect?" He smiled sadly. "From the very first night, my love. I recognized your hands. I'd know them anywhere, they've been in my dreams for years."

"And you still came," Five whispered, something like wonder and horror mixing in his voice. "You still let me…"

"I still let you love me," Klaus interrupted fiercely. "Because I've been waiting my whole life for you to love me like this. I've been desperate for it, Five. Aching for it. I thought I was going to die from wanting you."

Five made a broken sound, half sob, half laugh.

"May I?" Klaus asked again, fingers still on the mask.

After an eternity, Five nodded.

Klaus removed it slowly, reverently, like unwrapping the most precious gift. And there he was, Five. His Five. Dyed hair and brown contacts, but unmistakably the man Klaus loved.

"Hello," Klaus whispered, smiling through tears.

"Hello," Five responded, and his face was so open, so vulnerable, that Klaus wanted to weep.

"Is Max your real name?" Klaus asked gently. "The one Grace chose?"

Five nodded, surprise flickering across his features.

"I found her notes years ago," Klaus explained. "She picked names for all of us. Beautiful names. I never told you because I thought you'd prefer being just a number. But I've thought of you as Max in my head sometimes. When I let myself imagine impossible things."

"Max Hargreeves," Five tested the name. "She was going to call me Max."

"So you didn't lie," Klaus said. "Not really. Max Petrov is fiction. But Max? Max is real. Max is you. The you that you're finally letting me see."

"I'm sorry," Five whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry, Klaus. I didn't mean to deceive you, I just…I couldn't…."

"Shh," Klaus soothed, kissing him softly. "We'll talk about it. We'll work through it. But right now? Right now I just want to love you. No masks. No lies. Just us."

Five nodded, tears streaming down his face, the first tears Klaus had ever seen from him.

Klaus smiled, then without warning, used the last of his strength to push Five onto his back.

Five fell with a surprised gasp, eyes widening as Klaus straddled him with clear intent.

"Klaus, what are you…"

"My turn," Klaus said simply, running his hands down Five's chest possessively. "You've had weeks of touching me, of controlling me, of making me beg. Now it's my turn to worship you."

**

Klaus had spent weeks surrendering. Being tied, being taken, being brought to the edge and held there. Learning the beauty of submission.

But submission wasn't all he was. Had never been all he was.

And Five was about to learn that Klaus could give as well as receive.

"Klaus," Five warned, but his voice was uncertain, vulnerable in ways Klaus had never heard.

"Do you trust me?" Klaus asked, his hands mapping Five's chest, tracing scars, memorizing the landscape of skin and muscle and bone.

"With my life," Five answered immediately.

"Then let me love you," Klaus whispered. "The way you've been loving me. Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel what you make me feel."

He traced Five's abdomen, feeling muscles quiver beneath his touch. Pinched a nipple and cataloged the gasp.

"You like that?" Klaus asked innocently.

Five glared at him, but there was heat in it. "Careful."

"Or what?" Klaus leaned down, lips brushing Five's ear. "You'll punish me again? Because my love, I loved your punishment. I loved every second of being at your mercy. And now I want to see you at mine."

He bit Five's earlobe, hard enough to mark, to claim.

Five's hands flew to Klaus's hips, gripping desperately.

But Klaus caught his wrists, pinning them above Five's head with surprising strength.

"No touching," Klaus commanded softly. "Not until I say. I want you to know what it feels like. To want so badly you can't think. To need so desperately you'd beg for it."

"Klaus," Five's voice was strained. "You don't have to—"

"But I want to," Klaus interrupted. "I need to. Color, Five?"

Five looked at him for a long moment, and Klaus saw the war in his eyes, the need to control fighting against the desire to surrender.

Finally: "Green."

Klaus smiled. "Good boy."

Five's breath hitched at the praise, and Klaus filed that away for later.

He released Five's wrists but the order remained. Five gripped the headboard, knuckles white, while Klaus explored his body like terra incognita.

Every scar from the apocalypse kissed. Every tense muscle massaged. Every sensitive spot discovered and exploited until Five was trembling, gasping, barely holding on to control.

And then Klaus took Five's cock in his mouth.

Five nearly came off the bed, a shout tearing from his throat.

"Klaus!"

Klaus looked up at him with innocent eyes and sucked, taking him deep, using everything he'd ever learned, every fantasy he'd ever had.

Five cursed in multiple languages, his hips bucking involuntarily.

But Klaus controlled him, one hand pressing his hip down, keeping him exactly where Klaus wanted him while he worked Five over with lips and tongue and teeth.

"Klaus, I'm going to…"

Klaus pulled off with an obscene sound.

"Going to come?" he asked sweetly. "Not yet, amor. Not until I say."

Son of a bitch, Five thought, somewhere between arousal and admiration. He's using my own torture against me.

Klaus reached for the lubricant, warming it slowly while maintaining eye contact. Then, never looking away, he began preparing himself.

Five watched, completely captivated, as Klaus inserted first one, then two, then three fingers, stretching himself open while his face showed every flicker of pleasure.

"Klaus," Five groaned. "Please, let me help…"

"No," Klaus said, scissoring his fingers, arching his back. "You watch. You want. You ache. Like I've been aching for you for years."

It was the most erotic thing Five had ever seen.

When Klaus was ready, he grabbed a new condom and rolled it onto Five's cock with agonizing slowness, his touch gentle and teasing and maddening.

Then he positioned himself, the head of Five's cock pressing against his entrance.

"Ready?" Klaus asked, and his eyes were full of love and mischief and promise.

"I've been ready since we were teenagers," Five admitted hoarsely. "I've been ready since I came back from the apocalypse and saw you alive. I've been ready for this my entire life."

Klaus's expression softened into something transcendent.

"Then let me love you," he whispered.

And he sank down.

Klaus took his time, lowering himself inch by agonizing inch, feeling Five stretch him, fill him in ways that made his breath catch and his vision blur at the edges.

When he was finally fully seated, both of them were panting like they'd run miles through fire.

"God," Klaus breathed, his voice wrecked and beautiful. "From this angle you feel even bigger. Like you're touching parts of me I didn't know existed."

"Klaus," Five growled, his hands still gripping the headboard with white-knuckled desperation, every muscle in his body straining with the effort of not touching, not taking control, not flipping Klaus over and fucking him into the mattress. "Please move. Please, I'm begging you."

"What happened to no touching?" Klaus teased, rolling his hips in a slow, torturous circle that made Five's eyes roll back. "No moving? I thought you were the expert in control. The man who survived forty-five years alone. Surely you can handle a few minutes of this."

"I'm going to die," Five said with complete sincerity, his voice breaking on the words. "Literally going to die if you don't move. They'll find my body here and the cause of death will be 'Klaus Hargreeves sat on his cock and refused to move.'"

Klaus laughed, the sound vibrating through both their bodies in ways that made Five gasp, and finally, began to move.

He started slow, riding Five with deliberate languidness that was both mercy and cruelty. Learning the angle, finding the rhythm that made both of them gasp and curse and forget their own names. His hands braced on Five's chest for leverage, feeling the rapid hammer of his heartbeat, the heat of his skin, the way he trembled with barely restrained need.

And then Klaus increased the pace.

Five watched like Klaus was the only thing in existence, like the rest of the universe had ceased to matter. His eyes tracked every movement with predatory intensity, each roll of Klaus's hips, each muscle flexing in his thighs and abdomen, the way his body took Five's cock again and again like it was made for exactly this purpose, the flush spreading across his chest, the sweat beading on his skin and catching the candlelight like diamonds.

"You're so beautiful," Five breathed, the words pulled from somewhere deep and honest. "So fucking beautiful like this. Taking me. Riding me. Using me for your pleasure."

Klaus moaned at the praise, his rhythm faltering for a moment before he found it again, faster now, more desperate.

"Touch me," Klaus ordered after several minutes of exquisite torture, his voice breaking with need. "I need your hands on me. Need to feel you claiming me."

Five didn't need to be told twice. His hands flew to Klaus's hips like they were magnetized, gripping hard enough to leave bruises, marks that would last for days, evidence of this moment, proof that Klaus was his. He guided Klaus's movements, controlled them, pulled him down with bruising force while thrusting up to meet him.

The sounds were obscene, skin slapping against skin, their combined gasps and moans, the wet slide of Five's cock into Klaus's body.

"Yes," Klaus cried out, his head falling back, exposing the long line of his throat. "Yes, like that. Harder, Five, please, I need it harder."

Five obeyed with savage satisfaction, thrusting up with enough force to make Klaus scream, to lift him slightly off the bed with each powerful drive of his hips.

"Touch yourself," Five commanded, his voice rough as gravel, scraped raw with desire. "I want to watch you. Want to see you fall apart while you ride my cock. Want to memorize this moment so I can replay it every time I look at you across the breakfast table."

Klaus wrapped his hand around himself, pumping in time with his riding, and the sounds he made were absolutely obscene, high and desperate and needy in ways that made Five's cock pulse inside him.

"I'm close," Klaus gasped, his movements becoming erratic, chasing his pleasure with single-minded desperation. "Five, I'm so close, please, I need…”

"Tell me what you need," Five demanded, sitting up suddenly so they were chest to chest, so he could wrap his arms around Klaus and hold him close while fucking up into him with renewed vigor.

Klaus buried his face against Five's neck, his breath hot and desperate against Five's skin. And then he whispered, quiet enough that Five almost missed it:

"I need you to make me come, Sir”

Sir.

Five hadn't known that word would affect him like this. But hearing it fall from Klaus's lips, teased with need and submission and trust and love, something in him shattered completely, irreparably.

He flipped Klaus in one smooth motion, faster than thought, pinning him to the bed face-down. Before Klaus could even process the change, Five had re-entered him with one brutal thrust that punched the air from both their lungs.

"Say it again," Five ordered, fucking Klaus with desperate abandon, with two years of repressed longing, with love disguised as possession. His hand tangled in Klaus's hair, pulling his head back, making him arch.

"Sir," Klaus gasped, his voice breaking beautifully. "Please, Sir, I need to come, please let me come, I've been so good, please…”

"Yes, you have," Five growled against Klaus's ear, biting down on his shoulder hard enough to leave a perfect impression of his teeth. "You've been so good for me. My perfect, beautiful boy."

One hand reached around to grip Klaus's cock, stroking with firm, sure movements that matched his thrusts.

"Come for me," Five commanded. "Come for me now. Show me how beautiful you are when you let go."

Klaus obeyed with a scream that was pure music, his body convulsing, tightening around Five like a vice made of heat and need and home.

Five followed seconds later, burying himself as deep as physically possible, holding there as his orgasm tore through him with devastating force. He could feel himself pulsing inside Klaus, could feel Klaus's body milking him for everything he had.

They collapsed together into the silk sheets, a tangle of sweaty limbs and racing hearts and satisfaction so profound it bordered on religious experience.

Five withdrew eventually with reluctance, both of them hissing at the loss. He cleaned them with what remained of the towels, gentle and thorough despite his trembling hands, and then simply held Klaus.

Just held him.

Like he was the most precious thing in the world. Because he was.

"Sir," Five murmured against Klaus's hair after several minutes of comfortable silence. "I didn't know that word would..."

"Drive you absolutely feral?" Klaus finished with a satisfied smile, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Five's chest. "Oh, I noticed. Trust me, I noticed. Definitely filing that information away for future use. Extensive future use."

Five huffed a laugh, the sound surprising him with its ease, its lightness.

"We're a mess," Klaus said eventually, his voice drowsy and content.

"Yes," Five agreed simply, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"I love you," Klaus added, like it was the easiest thing in the world to say. Like those three words didn't contain universes.

"I love you," Five responded, and the words were easier this time, smoother, like his mouth was learning how to shape them. "So much I thought I was going crazy."

"Well," Klaus yawned, burrowing deeper into Five's embrace, "now you don't have to be crazy alone. We can be a beautiful disaster together. The Hargreeves special."

They stayed like that for several minutes, just breathing in sync, just existing in the same space without pretense or masks.

Then Klaus shifted, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at Five with mischief dancing in his eyes.

"I'm not done with you," Klaus declared with playful menace.

"What?"

"It's," Klaus checked the elegant watch still miraculously on his wrist, "2 AM. The club doesn't close until 6. We have time. So much time. And I have plans."

"Klaus, I physically cannot..." Five protested weakly, though his body was already betraying him, already responding to the promise in Klaus's eyes.

"Oh, I think you can," Klaus purred, his hand sliding down Five's body with clear intent, wrapping around him with practiced ease. "And I'm going to prove it. I'm going to take you apart piece by piece and put you back together. I'm going to make you forget every rule you've ever lived by. I'm going to…”

Five silenced him with a kiss that tasted like promises and second chances and forever.

**

They made love two more times before dawn painted the sky.

Once in the room's shower, with Five pressing Klaus against the cool tiles while hot water cascaded over them, steam rising around them like they were creating their own private world. Five took him slowly this time, reverently, whispering Russian endearments against water-slick skin while Klaus clung to him and trembled and whispered Five's name like a prayer.

And once more back in the bed, slower still, exploratory, learning each other without the masks, without the games, without anything between them but skin and truth and love.

Just Five and Klaus. Brothers -not brothers- who'd become lovers. Two people who'd finally stopped running from what they wanted most.

When they finally dressed, pulling on clothes that felt wrong after so much nakedness, the sky outside was transitioning from black to deep purple, stars fading as the world prepared for morning.

"We should go home," Five said, though his voice lacked conviction, like he was saying it because he thought he should rather than because he wanted to.

"Yes," Klaus agreed, pulling Five close for another kiss they didn't need but couldn't resist. "To our home. To your bed. To where I belong now."

Five looked at him, something fierce and possessive blazing in his eyes.

"My bed," Five confirmed, his voice dropping into that commanding tone that made Klaus shiver. "Where you sleep from now on. Every night. No exceptions."

"Is that an order, Sir?" Klaus asked with calculated innocence, batting his eyelashes.

Five pushed him against the wall with delicious force, kissing him until they were both breathless and hard again and seriously reconsidering the whole going home thing.

"Yes," Five growled against Klaus's mouth, biting his lower lip. "It's an order. And you're going to follow it."

"Then yes, Sir," Klaus smiled, that beautiful smile that Five had been cataloging for years. "I'll sleep in your bed. I'll wake up in your arms. I'll steal your coffee every morning. And eventually we'll have to tell our family that their oldest brother is fucking the middle child. That should be a fun conversation."

"A problem for later," Five decided, stealing one more kiss because he could, because Klaus was his now and he never had to stop kissing him.

"Much later," Klaus agreed. "Like, years later. Maybe decades. Maybe never."

**

They left the club hand in hand, not hiding anymore.

The sun was rising, painting the sky in shades of rose and gold and promise. The city was barely waking, the streets still quiet, the air fresh with possibility.

"You know what's funny?" Klaus said while they waited for a taxi, leaning against Five like he belonged there.

"What?"

"That this whole thing started because you couldn't simply tell me how you felt. You had to construct a completely new persona, dye your hair, wear contact lenses, buy a mask, learn an entire language of dominance, rent rooms at a BDSM club, conduct weeks of research…”

"When you put it like that it sounds ridiculous," Five interrupted, but there was fondness in his voice, not defensiveness.

"It was ridiculous," Klaus laughed, the sound bright and free. "But it was also sweet. In a twisted, completely Hargreeves kind of way. In a 'we're all traumatized and don't know how to express feelings normally' kind of way. Very on-brand for our family."

The taxi arrived. They slid into the back seat, Klaus immediately curling against Five's side like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he'd always been meant to fit there.

Five gave the driver their address and wrapped his arm around Klaus, pulling him close.

"Home," Five murmured against Klaus's hair, breathing in the scent of him, sweat and sex and that underlying sweetness that was purely Klaus. "To my bed. To our bed."

"Yes, Sir," Klaus whispered, quiet enough that only Five could hear, and Five felt his cock twitch with interest despite everything they'd already done.

And Five knew, with absolute certainty, with the kind of clarity he'd only felt when calculating temporal equations, that he was going to spend the rest of his life listening to Klaus say that word.

And he couldn't fucking wait.

The taxi drove through the awakening city while they held each other, two puzzle pieces that had finally found where they belonged. No more masks. No more lies. No more pretending they were something they weren't.

Just Five and Klaus, beginning their forever.

Finally, finally home.

**

Epilogue: Six Months Later

Klaus woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and the warm weight of Five's arm across his waist, possessive even in sleep.

They'd told the family three months ago. It had gone... about as well as expected.

Luther had been confused but supportive ("You guys seem happy, so... okay?"). Diego had made inappropriate jokes for two weeks straight before pulling Five aside to tell him he'd break both his legs if he ever hurt Klaus. Allison had simply hugged them both and said "finally." Viktor had blinked once and said "I thought you'd been together for years already."

Lila had cackled for ten minutes straight and demanded to know all the details, which Klaus had been more than happy to provide until Five had physically dragged him away, mortified.

Life had settled into a new rhythm. Klaus still did his medium work. Five still took missions, though he came home more often now, unwilling to be away from Klaus for long.

And their Friday nights? Those belonged to them now. Sometimes they went back to the club, but usually they recreated those scenes in their own bedroom, in their own space, with no masks between them.

Klaus stretched, catlike, and felt Five stir behind him.

"Morning," Five murmured, his voice rough with sleep, pressing a kiss to Klaus's shoulder.

"Morning, Sunshine," Klaus responded, the old nickname taking on new meaning now.

Five's hand slid down Klaus's body with clear intent.

"Again?" Klaus laughed. "We went three rounds last night."

"And?" Five countered, already positioning himself, already making Klaus gasp with want.

"No arguments here, Sir," Klaus breathed, spreading his legs in invitation.

As Five slid home, as they moved together in the morning light with no secrets between them, Klaus thought about how strange life was. How they'd spent two years living together, wanting each other, too afraid to reach out.

How Five had built an entire false identity just to have permission to touch him.

How that lie had somehow led them to this truth.

"I love you," Klaus gasped as Five hit that perfect angle, stars exploding behind his eyes.

"I love you," Five responded, and the words came easily now, as natural as breathing. "Always. Forever. Until the next apocalypse and beyond."

"Such a romantic," Klaus teased, but his voice was thick with emotion.

They came together, crying out in unison, and Klaus thought: This. This was worth everything. Worth every pain, every trauma, every apocalypse survived.

Because at the end of all of it, he had Five.

And Five had him.

Not as brothers pretending. Not as roommates playing it safe. Not as strangers hiding behind silver masks and whispered Russian endearments.

But as lovers. As a couple. As two broken pieces that had somehow found a way to fit together and make something whole.