Chapter Text
Five wakes up in cold sweat.
It takes him a few tries to untangle himself from the covers, the air feels too dry in his lungs and sometimes, sometimes, between a blink and the next, he thinks he sees the dust and debris falling down from the ceiling like the world’s most depressing snow, except there’s no world anymore and–
The glass of water on his nightstand shatters against the wall, and he doesn’t remember picking it up in the first place.
His hands are shaking, so Five closes them into fists, and squeezes his eyes shut, irrationally fearing he might see a destroyed and deserted place if he opens them.
Maybe, these past years had been the dream, maybe, he’s still stuck in a wasteland of a planet with a moonless night, maybe–
“Five!”
The sound of his name being shouted in such a closed distance startles him, and Five looks up to find Klaus kneeling by his bed, frowning worriedly. Somehow, that irks him enough to be annoyed instead of panicking. Say what you will, but his brothers are always reliable to be irritating beyond reason.
“Hey, hey, buddy,” Klaus says quietly, hands raised in front of him, trying to appear harmless, but doesn’t move to touch, “you with me now?”
“What are you doing in my room?” Five demands instead of answering, searching for a scowl harsh enough to overshadow the trembling of his fingers. He’s not sure he manages it, but it shouldn’t be too difficult to send Klaus away.
“I heard a crash– thin walls, you know how it is. Anyway, I heard a crash and you didn’t answer when I called you, so,” he shrugs. If he’s trying to come off indifferent, it’s unconvincing at best, pathetic at worst, and Five hates, hates, the translation– it spells pity. “The door was unlocked, figured it wouldn’t hurt to check in.”
“Well, you already checked, so if you could get the hell out, that would be great.”
Klaus frowns deeper, mouth going into a flat line. It’s strange to see him serious, jarring even, and Five drums his fingers on his thigh, looking pointedly at the door. It’s a mistake, though, and he regrets immediately because they’re still shaking from the adrenaline and Klaus zeroes on the movement, eyebrows raising. “That bad, hm?”
And– look. The clock on his wall reads 2:43 am and Five is tired, exhausted even, and Klaus is looking stubbornly determined like only he knows how to be, and really, taking the path of least resistance is how the whole universe works, why should Five stray from the rule?
“Fine,” he says through gritted teeth and clenched jaw, the words falling jagged through his lips. It certainly hurts like thorns. “I had a nightmare again. There. Happy?”
“Not at all,” Klaus sighs, shoulders drooping, and there’s something off enough about him that Five doesn’t complain much when he sits cross-legged on the bed beside him. “I get them too, so. Bad Dreams Club? We could have matching t-shirts, or badges to go with your uniform.”
Yes, this is more like the usual Klaus and it’s strangely comforting. “I’d rather shoot myself,” he replies mildly.
“Can’t stand fireworks either,” Klaus continues like he didn’t hear a thing, “so Fourth of July will be fun,” he stops, turning to look at Five expectantly.
But Five knows what he’s doing. Klaus is telling him all this to make Five open up too, but the joke's on him. This isn’t group therapy and Five has nothing to share.
“Look, I’m just saying, it’s normal to have nightmares. Considering all the shit that rained down? It would be weird if we didn’t have them, but what’s it– a burden shared is a burden halved? Something like that, but you catch my drift.”
“God knows I wish I didn’t.”
Klaus huffs, elbowing him lightly, and between avoiding the bony elbow and hiding his own amusement, it occurs to Five that his hands aren’t shaking anymore and his lungs aren’t filled with gravel either.
As much as it pains him to admit it, Klaus did distract him away from the memories clawing at his skin.
“Sometimes,” he admits, because he hates owing anyone anything, even vulnerability, and this helps level the scales. He begins again, “sometimes, I dream I’m back in the apocalypse. Sometimes, it happens when I’m awake too.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry, Five,” Klaus says softly, eyes wide and pained, and Five still remembers vividly the sight of all those corpses among the wreckage, the desperate hope that those might not be his siblings, the crushing, lonely realization that yes, yes, they are--
“And every time, it feels like I can’t breathe,” he ignores the interruption, glancing steadily at the wall. “So yes, fun times. I’m having a blast.”
For a minute, they are both silent, listening to the lonely night sounds of the house groaning and creaking with the cold. Then, “do you think you’re gonna fall back asleep?” Klaus asks, getting to his feet.
Five considers lying, but eventually dismisses it as too much trouble. “Not really, why?”
“Me neither. How do you feel about a trip to the nearest 24-hour McDonalds?”
“Now? I’m wearing pajamas if you didn’t notice, because it’s three in the morning!”
“So what? That’s what 24-hours fast-food joints are for. Besides I’m,” he looks down at himself, making a face at his usual pants and lack of shirt, “well, half dressed. But then again, if they’re open 24/7, they’ve seen worse.”
“Vanya left her sweater downstairs,” Five tells him, dragging himself out of bed and rooting his wardrobe for the hoodie he found in the laundry room yesterday. It has the Police Department Logo in the front, so he’s going out on a limb here and say it used to be Diego’s. He puts it on, and it’s kind of baggy and the sleeves hang from his arms, but it’s soft and comfortable and it’s three in the morning anyway. “But I’m driving.”
“Adorable,” Klaus grins sloppily, making a show of going serious and zipping his lips when Five scowls again at him. “Now let’s go, I’m craving nuggets.”
And downstairs, they find that while Vanya did leave her sweater, even if it’s baggy on her, it simply does not fit Klaus, so they sneak back upstairs to find his stupid coat and end up stealing one of Allison’s jackets instead. Stylish, Klaus calls it, and Five shrugs. He wouldn’t know.
The streets are empty and quiet, and Five is thankful. Driving at night like this is always peaceful and watching the buildings blur outside the window– all of them whole and tall– is calming. And if he takes the longest way to a not-so-near McDonalds, none of them mention it.