(klaus is more than right there. the house's halls are haunted with old memories, but it's the bad memories that float easiest to the surface. five knows better, spent enough years missing this house and his family. it's easy to drift into sentimentality on a good day, easier with an empty glass in front of him. downright dangerous when klaus threatens to make him another drink.
wild, he does say.
klaus is always a showgirl. he's as well acquainted with the bar as five is, but his hands are more graceful, putting the drink together with a gifted flourish. while five isn't the show pony that klaus is, this is something they have in common. he's spent too many nights drinking, the intoxication an easy comfort. he understands that.
an eyebrow rises when the drink's name comes out of klaus's mouth, a wordless challenge for the perhaps unspoken tease.) Thanks. (he says instead of confronting klaus's tease.
surprisingly, five finds that he doesn't mind, might even be pleased when klaus takes a seat next to him. with the rest of their siblings laughter ringing behind them, five is content with the cozy bar of just them and drinks. he lifts his glass, gently clinking them in a proper toast, copying klaus.) We can only hope. My sanity can't take another end of the world situation.
( bad memories do tend to leave deeper roots than the good ones. and perhaps that, subconsciously, was what had kept klaus away from letting any form. in this time, anyway.
but something feels changed; and that in itself may sound cliche, or too sentimental, but with the nearby laughter carrying across tall wood columns, there's something bubbling in his chest that feels like hope. the family, all back together, and it wasn't a thought of sarcasm this time, hissed to a pile of ashes.
all back but the one, though, and klaus catches himself looking around the room to one of the armchairs, still half expecting to see ben perched in it, with a stupid grin on his face and an inside joke between them.
he doesn't, of course not, and clinks glasses with five without missing a beat instead. sweet sweet party time, here they come. ) You sure do like to play hot potato with those. ( a hum, a long sip, and he's carefully watching five, for a moment. ) We're going to have to find you a new hobby. What are you into these days? Knitting? Crochet?
( it's not asked dismissively - the opposite, actually, even if it's not without the soft ribbing that's almost unavoidable with siblings. it's been a long time; why not start catching up on it now? )
(if the end of the world wasn't a family bonding experience, five doesn't think they'll find one. the family is far closer than the funeral five dropped in on.
all of it has certainly had an impact on klaus. five had barely gotten accustom to the klaus he'd encountered in 2019 when he'd been confronted with a klaus three years older, longer hair and a cult. they're brothers, five will take him however he comes as frustrating as that is, but... cult aside, this klaus seems more collected.
sometimes.
he doesn't think they'd be family without the obligatory sometimes.
there's always something and five certainly hasn't forgotten about their missing brother. there's no one it effects more than klaus, who has now lost ben twice. there's something five wishes he could have fixed. both occasions. the newest occasion feels like it might fall a little more on his shoulders in terms of responsibility. there are a couple apologies he owes klaus.)
I'm thinking I might be in need some new hobbies. (some, he thinks, are out of fashion now. he doesn't take the ribbing to heart, primarily ignores it and instead sips the drink that klaus has made for him, unable to ignore the vast changes in his own life.) I'm done with the killing. How about a book club?
(sarcasm aside, it's the same. no ill meant, just five's mouth running.) I hadn't considered retirement before.
( five owes klaus nothing, least of all apologies. not for stranding them in time, and certainly not for ben's choices. for all the loss and the ringing silence, klaus is glad to know the last moments of ben's existence here were his own choice. he may have played a small part in channeling him long enough to make a difference, but in the end, ben was always ben.
fuck but he wished he could have said thank you, or goodbye, or called him stupid names one more time.
just as strongly, he hoped ben wouldn't run into dad, way up there. and if he knew five's guilt - well, he'd hope five would forgive himself, which was arguably the hardest task.
klaus snorts bubbles into his cocktail, pulling away with a chortle. ) And who's book will be first? Homer or Shakespeare? Oh, maybe Dostoyevki? ( another sip, drink half gone. he's swinging his legs out into a little unnecessary hop off of his barstool, with another pirouette to face five. in the same motion he's lifting his hat off, pressing it to his chest with a soft smile. ) Consider this: retirement is a state of mind.
( man, that's so deep. no wonder he managed to establish an alternative community. and it isn't that he doesn't want to broach the remark of no more killing. it's just that - maybe it wasn't the time. maybe it was in some unspoken understanding that sometimes you get blood on your hands without wanting it there. he can't pretend to understand the years five spent, but he can understand that, at least.
his smile deeps, carefree, and he raises his cup to ring against five's again, and it sounds sweet. ) And we're gonna be chasing waterfalls now, baby.
( he leans back on his heel, not exactly thinking that this likely would mean very little to the other, looking around the room instead. ) Say, where'd we shove dad's old record player to? I brainstorm better when I got Stevie Nicks playing in the background.
( plus, he really wanted to see who lipsyncs to edge of seventeen first. )
Edited (i uploaded more icons, got annoyed at the naming convention, wanted to change this one, so here we are.) 2020-08-14 22:45 (UTC)
(five did everything to get back to his family to save them and avoid the apocalypse along the way. he didn't intend to lose any siblings, including ben, and he sure didn't intend for klaus to get stranded in a timeline alone for three years. despite the unfortunate blunders along the way, against the odds, here they are.
they've done what seemed to be damn right impossible. five had been sure he was going to strangle one of his family members and he hadn't even been entirely certain on which of them it would be.
in the end, despite another nearly horrific end to them (a memory that helps five forgive every infuriatingly stupid and godforsaken thing his siblings did along the way), they'd survived and their drinks are as good a victory treat as any. for a victory drink, klaus goes through it quickly. five doesn't bother squashing a smile at the cocktail bubbles and the laughing, at klaus up and absurd enough to already be considered drunk. enjoyable enough, five’s sipping on his drink around his amusement.) Not a chance on Homer, not in this family. Vonnegut? Dostoyevki can certainly be included.
(five trusts klaus with that; certain other siblings would have ruined the mood to interrogate him on his remark about not killing. klaus, however, has the intended reaction. pop lyrics. maybe not exactly how he intended, but close enough.) Do you think the 90s is offended with how you’re using its lyrics? (he asks with amusement threaded through his voice.
five couldn’t begin to know where the old record player is, has barely been back and sure hasn’t used that time with the record player. their other siblings, though, do seem to know. allison is the one to pause, still laughing, as she gets up to retrieve it. five takes the time to finish off his drink and slinks behind the bar to fix himself and klaus both another.)
( klaus hadn't been remotely kidding when he had said surviving a family of seven was a feat of strength, muttered to himself to bolster his confidence amidst suctioned FBI corpses and a world threatening to fall apart by its seams.
so naturally, he wouldn't have blamed five for strangling one of them. he would equally be unsurprised (and likely understanding) if that person was him, even though his first bet would have been on diego.
but, all's well that ends well, it would seem, and impossible turned out to simply be improbable.
he isn't nearly as drunk as he can be - and most likely will be by the end of the night. it's the start of a buzz, that head-fog warmth after a long, long day, alcohol taking quick root from the lack of food, and the adrenaline before. he's animated regardless, strangely pleased that five hasn't asked to be left alone yet. ) Vonnegut's good, I guess - ( a shrug somewhere in the contemplation. ) Depends on what you're going for. Cheeky satire or gloomy realism. ( a literature summary of Vonnegut and Dostoyevski, brought by yours truly. )
( the thing is, a part of klaus really does know better than to ask. ) Oh, oh man, if you think that's offending the 90s, do not read any of my - ah - ( he makes a vague hand gesture through the air, a wiggle of long fingers. ) - "prophet teachings". If they made it this far. You're gonna be so disappointed.
( he says so as he saunters after allison, a quick two-step as she fetches the music player. the room is soon filled with ain't no mountain high enough that spurs the others into a singalong. soon, they all settle back into chatter, into foot tapping and laughing.
looking as pleased as a cat that got into the cream, klaus slides back over to the bar, and watches five fix them another drink. his sibling's cocktail finesse is far more pragmatic than his own, and he watches fondly on. they grow up so fast ) A new poison, maestro, or the same?
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wild, he does say.
klaus is always a showgirl. he's as well acquainted with the bar as five is, but his hands are more graceful, putting the drink together with a gifted flourish. while five isn't the show pony that klaus is, this is something they have in common. he's spent too many nights drinking, the intoxication an easy comfort. he understands that.
an eyebrow rises when the drink's name comes out of klaus's mouth, a wordless challenge for the perhaps unspoken tease.) Thanks. (he says instead of confronting klaus's tease.
surprisingly, five finds that he doesn't mind, might even be pleased when klaus takes a seat next to him. with the rest of their siblings laughter ringing behind them, five is content with the cozy bar of just them and drinks. he lifts his glass, gently clinking them in a proper toast, copying klaus.) We can only hope. My sanity can't take another end of the world situation.
no subject
but something feels changed; and that in itself may sound cliche, or too sentimental, but with the nearby laughter carrying across tall wood columns, there's something bubbling in his chest that feels like hope. the family, all back together, and it wasn't a thought of sarcasm this time, hissed to a pile of ashes.
all back but the one, though, and klaus catches himself looking around the room to one of the armchairs, still half expecting to see ben perched in it, with a stupid grin on his face and an inside joke between them.
he doesn't, of course not, and clinks glasses with five without missing a beat instead. sweet sweet party time, here they come. ) You sure do like to play hot potato with those. ( a hum, a long sip, and he's carefully watching five, for a moment. ) We're going to have to find you a new hobby. What are you into these days? Knitting? Crochet?
( it's not asked dismissively - the opposite, actually, even if it's not without the soft ribbing that's almost unavoidable with siblings. it's been a long time; why not start catching up on it now? )
no subject
all of it has certainly had an impact on klaus. five had barely gotten accustom to the klaus he'd encountered in 2019 when he'd been confronted with a klaus three years older, longer hair and a cult. they're brothers, five will take him however he comes as frustrating as that is, but... cult aside, this klaus seems more collected.
sometimes.
he doesn't think they'd be family without the obligatory sometimes.
there's always something and five certainly hasn't forgotten about their missing brother. there's no one it effects more than klaus, who has now lost ben twice. there's something five wishes he could have fixed. both occasions. the newest occasion feels like it might fall a little more on his shoulders in terms of responsibility. there are a couple apologies he owes klaus.)
I'm thinking I might be in need some new hobbies. (some, he thinks, are out of fashion now. he doesn't take the ribbing to heart, primarily ignores it and instead sips the drink that klaus has made for him, unable to ignore the vast changes in his own life.) I'm done with the killing. How about a book club?
(sarcasm aside, it's the same. no ill meant, just five's mouth running.) I hadn't considered retirement before.
no subject
fuck but he wished he could have said thank you, or goodbye, or called him stupid names one more time.
just as strongly, he hoped ben wouldn't run into dad, way up there. and if he knew five's guilt - well, he'd hope five would forgive himself, which was arguably the hardest task.
klaus snorts bubbles into his cocktail, pulling away with a chortle. ) And who's book will be first? Homer or Shakespeare? Oh, maybe Dostoyevki? ( another sip, drink half gone. he's swinging his legs out into a little unnecessary hop off of his barstool, with another pirouette to face five. in the same motion he's lifting his hat off, pressing it to his chest with a soft smile. ) Consider this: retirement is a state of mind.
( man, that's so deep. no wonder he managed to establish an alternative community. and it isn't that he doesn't want to broach the remark of no more killing. it's just that - maybe it wasn't the time. maybe it was in some unspoken understanding that sometimes you get blood on your hands without wanting it there. he can't pretend to understand the years five spent, but he can understand that, at least.
his smile deeps, carefree, and he raises his cup to ring against five's again, and it sounds sweet. ) And we're gonna be chasing waterfalls now, baby.
( he leans back on his heel, not exactly thinking that this likely would mean very little to the other, looking around the room instead. ) Say, where'd we shove dad's old record player to? I brainstorm better when I got Stevie Nicks playing in the background.
( plus, he really wanted to see who lipsyncs to edge of seventeen first. )
no subject
they've done what seemed to be damn right impossible. five had been sure he was going to strangle one of his family members and he hadn't even been entirely certain on which of them it would be.
in the end, despite another nearly horrific end to them (a memory that helps five forgive every infuriatingly stupid and godforsaken thing his siblings did along the way), they'd survived and their drinks are as good a victory treat as any. for a victory drink, klaus goes through it quickly. five doesn't bother squashing a smile at the cocktail bubbles and the laughing, at klaus up and absurd enough to already be considered drunk. enjoyable enough, five’s sipping on his drink around his amusement.) Not a chance on Homer, not in this family. Vonnegut? Dostoyevki can certainly be included.
(five trusts klaus with that; certain other siblings would have ruined the mood to interrogate him on his remark about not killing. klaus, however, has the intended reaction. pop lyrics. maybe not exactly how he intended, but close enough.) Do you think the 90s is offended with how you’re using its lyrics? (he asks with amusement threaded through his voice.
five couldn’t begin to know where the old record player is, has barely been back and sure hasn’t used that time with the record player. their other siblings, though, do seem to know. allison is the one to pause, still laughing, as she gets up to retrieve it. five takes the time to finish off his drink and slinks behind the bar to fix himself and klaus both another.)
no subject
so naturally, he wouldn't have blamed five for strangling one of them. he would equally be unsurprised (and likely understanding) if that person was him, even though his first bet would have been on diego.
but, all's well that ends well, it would seem, and impossible turned out to simply be improbable.
he isn't nearly as drunk as he can be - and most likely will be by the end of the night. it's the start of a buzz, that head-fog warmth after a long, long day, alcohol taking quick root from the lack of food, and the adrenaline before. he's animated regardless, strangely pleased that five hasn't asked to be left alone yet. ) Vonnegut's good, I guess - ( a shrug somewhere in the contemplation. ) Depends on what you're going for. Cheeky satire or gloomy realism. ( a literature summary of Vonnegut and Dostoyevski, brought by yours truly. )
( the thing is, a part of klaus really does know better than to ask. ) Oh, oh man, if you think that's offending the 90s, do not read any of my - ah - ( he makes a vague hand gesture through the air, a wiggle of long fingers. ) - "prophet teachings". If they made it this far. You're gonna be so disappointed.
( he says so as he saunters after allison, a quick two-step as she fetches the music player. the room is soon filled with ain't no mountain high enough that spurs the others into a singalong. soon, they all settle back into chatter, into foot tapping and laughing.
looking as pleased as a cat that got into the cream, klaus slides back over to the bar, and watches five fix them another drink. his sibling's cocktail finesse is far more pragmatic than his own, and he watches fondly on.
they grow up so fast) A new poison, maestro, or the same?