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Luther bought a minivan.
Holy shit. Klaus is going to piss himself laughing because holy shit, Luther bought a minivan.
“Why,” Diego demands, crossing his arms and staring broodingly at Luther.
“It seemed easier,” Luther says, going ridiculously defensive of his shiny new soccer mom car. “There’s six of us now, we wouldn’t fit in a car.”
“Seven,” Klaus corrects him, you know, for the sake of fairness and to see the frowny look on Luther’s face. “Ben is calling shotgun.”
“No, I’m not,” Ben glares from where he’s leaning against the back of Vanya’s armchair.
Luther squirms, glancing around the room in that awkward way he always get when Ben is brought up. “Seven, yes. We’ll talk about seat arrangements later,” he decides in his best diplomatic voice. “But see? We’d need at least two cars and sometimes that’s not very practical.”
“Seat arrangements,” Five repeats incredulous, scoffs with all the might of a bratty teenager. It’s great. “What, did you buy a seat booster for me too?”
“A seat booster,” Luther echoes pensively, like the idea hadn’t occurred to him before but it’s worth some serious thinking now.
Vanya meets his eyes and Klaus winks at her, nodding at Five’s horrified face at the prospect. “It’s called sarcasm, idiot,” he’s saying, finger pointed threatening at Luther. Klaus looks at Vanya again and they snicker under Allison’s half-heartedly scolding stare, too amused herself to be properly disapproving.
Diego, on the other hand, has mastered the Disapproving Stare down to a fine art. It does make him look a little crossed in the eyes when he tries to focus it on the five of them at once, though.
“Can you give me one reason,” he says, shaking his knife in the air for emphasis, “just one reason why it would be relevant for us not to take two cars?”
“Well,” Luther looks around for support, as if any of them would ever interrupt such an entertaining evening. “What if we have to go to the same place?”
“Yes, Diego, what if,” Klaus drawls, with as serious a face as he can manage, “think about the environment, the Ozone layer.”
“I will stab you,” Diego glares.
“Okay, that wasn’t a very good example,” Allison intervenes, probably sensing this might escalate if lets them, “but I’m sure there are more,” she says and pauses, because she, too, can’t think of why on Earth they would need a minivan.
“Road trips,” Klaus suggests.
“Carrying large, heavy things,” offers Vanya with a shrug. Klaus bets she’s thinking of a piano.
“Performing minor surgeries while on the move,” adds Five, apparently willing to give it a try as long as it appeases his murderous intents.
Luther vaguely gestures them, raising one eyebrow at Diego. “That’s three reasons.”
Diego’s eye twitch. “Seriously?”
“You did say one reason, Diego,” Allison grins mischievously.
“Look. Why don’t we all just go take a look? It’s parked right by the gates,” Luther tries again, putting on his best Reasonable Adult voice. “It’s not so bad, really.”
They all share a look with varying degrees of long-suffering resignation, but that mostly means let’s go humor the crazy person.
“I bet it’s one of those with wooden stripes from the 90s,” Vanya comments with a smile as she passes Klaus by the couch. She pauses when she notices he's still lying down, glancing back at him, “aren’t you coming? You make funnier comments, come on.”
Klaus freezes, and Ben turns fully to him, smiling gleefully sarcastic. “Yes, Klaus. Aren’t you coming?”
“Nah,” he waves her off, ignoring Ben’s stupid, vengeful comments. That’s what he gets, isn’t it? Instead of Carper, the Friendly Ghost, there’s Ben, the Vengefully Sarcastic Spectre. “I think I’m good. We really don’t need to be there to watch Luther have his mid-life crisis, now do we?”
She eyes the pillows propping his feet up with suspicion, narrowing her eyes probably at the fact Klaus is wearing socks in the house for once in his life. “Are you okay?”
“What, of course, never been better– peachy.”
“Just tell her you broke your ankle, Klaus,” Ben huffs, coming to stand beside Vanya with his arms crossed like this is some sort of intervention. The absolute snitch, Ben so would have told on him if he could. “You needed a cast. And crutches.”
“It’s not broken, it’s just twisted, Jesus Christ,” Klaus snaps at him, sitting up a little and wincing when the movement jostles his ankle.
“What’s not broken?” Vanya frowns, and when Allison pokes her head back in to see what was taking them so long, she says, “I think Klaus broke his leg. Or twisted it, I’m not sure.”
“Klaus broke his leg?” Five asks, suddenly appearing in front of them. Which is great, really. Why don’t they just call the rest of the clowns?
“I did not!” Klaus insists, even though Allison is already calling Diego and Luther back and Vanya is discussing with Five the merits of modern medicine. “Hey, hey, assholes! It’s not broken, it’s just twisted. I fell off the bed and twisted my ankle, we don’t need a family meeting to discuss that!”
“How the fuck did you fall off the bed to break your leg?” Diego demands, Luther trailing after him.
“I was trying to hang more fairy lights to the ceiling,” Klaus sighs, sinking back to his seat and resigning himself to the torture. “I slipped. End of story. But hey, Luther bought a minivan! That sounds way more interesting, let’s go back to that!”
“Why were you hanging more lights in your room?” Luther pulls a face, seeming totally bewildered by the idea.
“Oh, you know. The aesthetic. It’s the irony, really.”
Ben groans, throwing his hands up. “Why don’t you just tell them about the nightmares?”
“I’m handling it,” he says shortly, unwilling to get into the same argument again in front of the others.
“You’re handling shit. Let me see that,” Diego says, not truly asking, batting Klaus’ hands away as he tries to pull his pant leg up. “Yup. This looks broken. We gotta take him to the ER.”
To be fair, Klaus will admit it looks bad. His ankle is a little swollen and purple, and maybe it hurts when the wind blows, but that doesn’t mean he needs to see a doctor. “What? No, I’ll ask Mom to bandage it later, it’ll be fine.”
“Shut up,” Diego barks, glaring, “how did you get down those stairs with this ankle?”
“Determination and a healthy dose of spite.”
“You’re a dumbass,” he decides, nodding like that’s a conclusion he had reached long ago but it was nice to have confirmation. “Get up, we’re leaving.”
Ben grins, the asshole.
“No– hey, have a little care would you?” Klaus flinches as Diego helps him up, definitely rougher than necessary. “I’m in severe pain here.”
Diego swings his arm around his shoulder, holding enough of his weight so Klaus can limp without feeling like his leg is on fire. “I’m not going to be sympathetic until you go to a doctor,” he deadpans, turning to Luther. “I guess, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’ll take the goddamn minivan.”
They all move with surprising speed, piling up on the minivan like a completely unnecessary trip to ER suddenly turned into a family event. Joy. Klaus is sure the doctor and nurses will really appreciate their special brand of mess. Luther is driving, with Five riding shotgun, while Allison, Vanya, and Diego take the first row, leaving the last seats for Klaus to prop his leg up. Ben leans in from the luggage compartment.
“Is everyone with their seatbelts on?” Luther asks, waiting for their verbal confirmation. Klaus says yes and ties two seatbelts in a neat little bow. “Good. Five, change places with Diego or one of the girls.”
“What? Why?” Five startles, probably thinking he was safe from the seat booster.
“I don’t think you’re tall enough to be in the passenger seat yet,” Luther apologizes in that awkward way of his, “now change.”
“Can’t we just get on with this kidnapping?” Klaus calls from the back.
“I’m not starting the car until Five trades place with someone.”
“Luther,” Allison, ever the voice of reason, pipes in, “Klaus needs to go to the ER, so can’t we just–”
“It’s just a broken ankle, he’s not dying. He can wait until Five is safely buckled up in the back.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Five tells him, flatly.
“No, safety first,” Luther stands his ground, waiting it out, and rolls his eyes when Five flips him off. “Really? Very mature, what are you, five?”
It’s not intended to be a pun, Klaus can tell because Luther has the world’s most underdeveloped sense of humor, but Five still makes the world’s saltiest offended face, “Jesus Christ,” he mutters before teleporting out of the van.
To Luther’s utter despair, Diego drags himself to the passenger seat, throwing himself into the seat and slamming the door closed. In the first row, Vanya passes Five a book to placate him.
The minivan starts with less fuss than originally thought, and maybe it’s just that Luther drives like an old person, but his ankle is hardly ever jostled. Klaus is sure the ER is going to kick them out in ten minutes flat, but hey, he did suggest a road trip, right?