Archive of Our Own

“Fuck OFF, Ben,” snaps Klaus, stomping around the room collecting the shoes he’d thrown at Diego to make him leave before Klaus really lost his shit.

Fucking crappy dishwasher-illiterate brothers.

“I’m just saying, do you not see the humor in this,” Ben is cracking up, sitting on the kitchen table, holding his stomach and cackling. “You are ridiculous it’s hilarious oh my God.”

“Get fucked,” Klaus advises, finding one more Birkenstock behind the couch. He puts it with its twin, neatly, on the rack by the front door.

When he’s satisfied he’s got them all, he starts flinging himself around the kitchen, washing down the sideboards and cupboard fronts. He’s cleaning the taps, thinking viciously about how sorry Diego is going to be when he comes home to Klaus’ perfect lovely nice clean and shiny apartment. He’s going to grovel. Take me back, Klaus! He’s going to say.

Klaus straightens up, suddenly alarmed.

“Ben,” he says, urgently. “Ben. Ben.”

Ben contains himself for long enough to say, “yes dear?”

“Ben am I acting like a pissed off boyfriend?”

Ben stares at him.

“… about my brother?”

Ben stares and then looks shocked. He says, horrified,

“You didn’t realize? What the hell do you think I’ve been laughing at you for?” And then dissolves back into cackling laughter while Klaus throws his hands up in dismay. He can’t deal with this. He has therapy on Tuesday. This might actually be a bit much even for Jimmer, he’s not sure.

Oh, God.

“I’m taking a bath,” he announces, abruptly, even though Ben neither cares nor needs to know. Klaus puts the cleaning products away and shucks his clothing, putting that away and noticing that his brothers clothes are all mixed up with his in the wardrobe (well… maybe they only have one, but still) and then runs a bath with his favorite oils and sinks into the water and covers his face with his hands.

It’s a one bedroom apartment. The apartment part of it is is a kitchen dining room and living room all in one. The other two rooms are the bedroom and bathroom. Of course their stuff has gotten a little mixed up, he reassures himself.

He stews for long enough that he hears the lock on the front door jiggle. He knows it’s Diego because the footsteps sound like Diego. He knows Diego will smell the bath oils because the bathroom door is wide open. There is the sound of a kettle boiling for a minute, and then his brother stomps into the bathroom – moody, judging by the tone of his footfalls – and puts a cup of what smells like Klaus’ tea of the week (green, with infused lavender) on the small table near the head of the bath where Klaus can reach it. Then he flops down dramatically, to sit on the floor, his back against the porcelain, and says,

“Vanya was right,” sounding sad and stressed and all kinds of bad things. Klaus blinks, removes his hands from his face.

He reaches for the tea with one hand, drops the other, dripping wet, onto his brother’s shoulder. Diego doesn’t even complain, which means he’s in an extra sad mood, which has Klaus kind of worried.

“What about?” He asks, because they’ve been practicing telling each other things out loud and sharing. Things like how to properly load up a dishwasher. Klaus sniffs and then sniffs appreciatively, again, because the tea smells good.

Diego sighs heavily. “That I’d get back here and you’d be in the bath and I’d bring you tea and talk to you about my feelings.” Klaus gives his shoulder a squeeze, but, really, that one was kind of predictable. “By the way, you’re going to cook something to cheer me up later, too, apparently.”

“That does sound like something I would do,” Klaus agrees, then blanches a bit thinking back on the boyfriend-brother realization. Diego seems to be in a really terrible mood, though, so instead of bringing it up he asks, “tell me about your feelings, what happened hum?”

“Luther got to me, you know like always,” Diego says, plainly, and Klaus feels a little bit proud because direct communication like this didn’t used to happen, they’re doing so well. “Then Vanya said we’re all fucked up and I should remember that he is too. Then she said you and me were nice to each other and I argued that today you threw shoes at me because I hit you and she made her accurate predictions and now I don’t feel great.”

Klaus contemplates this. “Want to talk about what Luther did?” He tries, adds, “by the way, I’m going to make you the most nutritionally balanced, additive free chilli you’ve ever experienced. I might have picked up some brown rice from the store. Hold on to that thought,” as he squeezes the hand getting Diego’s shirt all soggy.

“Oh that does sound good,” Diego sighs, and Klaus knew he had him.

“Talk to me,” Klaus says, tickling his fingers under Diego’s chin, light.

Diego huffs. It’s not as heavy as before, at least. “He literally criticized the way I said hello,” he says. “The actual first thing I said to him he told me I wasn’t doing that right. And I guess it just went downhill fast from there.”

Klaus doesn’t even laugh. It’s too sad. “Oh Luther,” he says. “Wait. What was was the first thing you said? Just so I’m completely clear on events.”

“Uh.” And Diego stiffens suddenly, and Klaus feels for him. “Oh. Yeah. Shit.” Because it sucks so much looking back on something like this and suddenly gaining the new perspective, one where maybe you weren’t entirely as deep in the land of the right as you thought. And Klaus knows his brother.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says, takes a sip of his tea.

“No, I.” Diego pauses for a moment. “I said ‘Are you sick?’,” he says, “and now I feel even worse.”

Klaus pets him in what is hopefully a soothing manner. Diego doesn’t move or complain about it.

“I just can’t stand when he criticizes the way I speak,” Diego blurts, painfully honest. “I was shit at talking, forever, it felt like, and I can’t stand it now when it feels like he’s bringing that shit up. I wish he’d had the fucking stutter so he knew how it felt.”

Klaus waits, but he swallows instead of continuing. He doesn’t push.

“And I guess he hates it whenever anyone brings up what he looks like,” Diego says, miserably after a long minute. “I know he does because I did it on purpose back before Five... when he was pretending that that overcoat was fooling anybody.” Oh, that’s insightful of him. “I can see it on his face because it’s how I feel.” He tenses up a little. “Or maybe I’m just projecting and making things up,” he says, and shifts to run a hand down his face.

“I think you’re right about his thing with the way he looks,” Klaus agrees, after a bit of thought. “He never lets anybody see him without at least a shirt on. He had to get totally smashed before he would go clubbing. And he only ever slept with anybody that one time.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Diego says, suddenly sounding confused.

“Nobody’s seen him naked, probably,” Klaus rationalizes. “That’s like. A big deal. Probably says something.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Klaus says, feeling right on about it, now. “Hey, but what did you mean he looked sick?”

“Oh, yeah, that.” Diego shifts against the bath. “He’s lost weight. He looked really pale and tired and just sick. And then I left but Vanya said he told her he won’t eat anything Mom doesn’t make and.” He stops again, tenses up again. Klaus waits. “And Vanya implied Mom wasn’t feeding him enough,” Diego says, “which is obviously stupid because it’s Mom, so I don’t think she’s right.”

“Oh,” Klaus says, frowns. “More weight? He was looking a little thin when we stayed there last.”

“Yeah, way more weight,” Diego confirms, sounding sad all over again. “I was. Worried. Kind of. And just snapped at him when he told me I said the wrong thing. Shit.”

“It’s okay,” says Klaus, after they’ve sat in the quiet for a tad too long. He finishes his tea and notes the temperature of the bath water. “It’s fine. We’ll call Vanya, see if she can sort him out. Five must be there too.”

“Yeah,” Diego says, sounding tired.

“You’ve got enough shit to deal with,” Klaus reminds him. “Tea-cup brain, remember?” It’s a nice metaphor that they both use in therapy; a mind can only deal with so much at once. Try adding more than it can deal with and, like a tea-cup faced with too much of anything, it will just start to overflow and make a mess.

“Tea-cup brain,” Diego says. “Thanks. So I don’t need to drive back over and apologize or anything right?”

“God no,” Klaus snorts. He stands up. “Hand me my fluffiest towel,” he demands, “and let me look after you. Someone’s had a rough day.”

He forgets all about the brother-boyfriend thing until they’re lounging on the couch under a blanket, much later that evening, and Diego is pressing back into him with most of his weight because something about that helps ground Klaus, stops him craving a hit of anything so much somehow.

They’re watching a shitty action flick on Klaus’ laptop, and Diego is falling asleep because he does this when he eats a lot and Klaus’ chilli went down well – yes! - and he feels affectionate and wants to pet the side of Diego’s head. He sighs, instead.

“I’m going to ruin this, horribly, like, really badly,” Klaus says, already messed up about it.

Diego just snorts. “What are you talking about?” He says.

“I just thought, just then. I just thought. Why can you not be my boyfriend,” Klaus says, and cringes so hard he’s surprised Diego doesn’t fall off the couch at it. “Because you’re my brother!” He adds in a rush, “and I don’t want to like, have sex with you or anything gross like that!” Diego hasn’t moved. Klaus barrels on, “I just don’t see why you’re wasted on being my brother when you could go to work and come home and I'll clean and wear aprons and say how was your day and cook and iron your fancy suits and we can talk about our feelings and be supportive.”

Klaus braces himself.

“Oh my God,” Diego says, and he starts to shake. Klaus is stricken, until Diego rolls a little to face him. “Oh my God,” he says, and Klaus realises he’s laughing. “Oh you fucking idiot,” Diego says, and Klaus would be affronted at the insult but he’s too confused. “Klaus, that’s what we already do. And I don’t wear suits.”

“No, but,” Klaus wants desperately to put into words that it should be weird and wrong and gross, and he can’t. “I don’t want to have sex with you,” he tries again, vaguely frantic, despairing of his lack of eloquence in the moment.

“Good,” Diego laughs, “because I really, really don’t want to have sex with you bro. Thank you,” he adds, and cracks up some more.

“You knew,” Klaus suddenly realizes. “You knew that was what we were doing,” he breathes, drawing back a little. Diego rolls over all the more, movie forgotten in the background.

“Yeah man, I had this discussion with our therapist weeks ago,” he says. “I think it was after you started packing me lunch for work and kissing my face when I went out the door.”

“And my lunch box notes,” Klaus is horrified.

“They’re nice,” Diego shushes him.

“And the… oh my God, how do you not hate me?”

Diego snorts again, lies on his back and uses one arm as a pillow. “Jimmer said it’s normal,” he tells Klaus. “If I’d known you were freaking out about it-”

“No, no, no,” Klaus interrupts. “I only figured it out this afternoon.”

“Oh,” Diego says, looking relieved. “Anyway. We have ‘attachment issues’.”

“And ‘issues with physical affection’.” It’s rote, at this point.

“And ‘issues with intimacy’.”

“And ‘issues with expressing ourselves’.”

“We’re doing great with expressing ourselves. This is an okay normal thing that we are talking about. Our actual therapist actually told me so.”

“Ben laughs at me so much,” Klaus says. “And I didn’t get why. And now I do.”

“He around?”

“Nope.”

“Shame. I imagine he’d be laughing right now.”

Klaus sighs dramatically, flops down so he’s lying on top of his brother, head tucked in under his chin. “He’s such an asshole,” he says, and then shuts his eyes when a nice strong arm wraps around his shoulders. Thank God neither of them want to have incestuous sex, he thinks, unbelievably relieved. That would completely ruin everything. He’d miss this so much.

“Yep,” Diego agrees, mildly. “I love Ben.”

A few hours later, he’s woken up by the cold from sleeping without a cover. Ben is back, watching him from his position on the floor.

“You both drool so much in your sleep,” Ben comments. “You’re so gross.”

“Yeah well you’re a giant tentacle monster belly,” Klaus mumbles back.

“Oh no,” Ben monotones, “you have hurt me deeply.”

“Sup,” Mumbles Diego. “Urgh. Fell asleep. Fuck.”

“Bed,” Klaus suggests, and elbows Diego at least twice trying to get up. Diego surprisingly doesn’t complain.

“Hmmm,” Diego says, “nah, I should probably get out. Patrol some.”

“Oh come on,” Klaus complains. “You’re a little kid again.”

“We’re nearly eighteen,” Diego reminds him.

“Shut up, we’re twenty one, my ID says so,” Klaus insists, because it does, because nobody pays seventeen-year-olds any real money, let alone rents them apartments.

“You’re arguing against your own point,” Diego says, and is on his feet looking far more awake in the space of about five seconds. “Get some shut eye,” he tells Klaus. “I’ll change and head out.”

Klaus feels immediately sour. It’s a feeling that’s grown worse lately whenever his brother leaves for this exact reason. He looks at Ben on the floor, who shrugs.

“You don’t like it, you have to talk to him,” Ben says, horribly.

Klaus sighs, goes into the one bedroom. Diego is changing shirts. Klaus is treated to the array of scars he had even at this age, plus bruises from this exact activity that range in color depending on days ago acquired.

“Please be careful,” he says, quietly.

“Always am,” Diego tells him.

Liar, Klaus thinks, and flops moodily into the bed.

He hears Diego clip on his knife collection, hears him shuffle about. “Get some sleep,” Diego says, and then he’s gone.

Klaus lies face down in the bed. He doesn’t sleep at all until he hears a key in the front door again, at which point the tension in his body unfurls only slightly, because Diego might be home but Klaus has no idea what state he’s going to be in.

He keeps the back of his head to the bedroom door when Diego enters, pulling clothes off by the sound of it. He hopefully thinks Klaus is asleep because he doesn’t say hi or anything, just strips, sits down on the edge of the bed and sighs. Then the covers rustle and his brother gets comfortable, seeming to take care not to jostle or disturb Klaus at all.

After a few minutes Klaus hears his breathing even out, and then he’s sleeping, and Klaus rolls over.

There’s no visible damage to his head, but he’s wrapped in a comforter and if Klaus starts pulling at it Diego’s going to wake up.

He screws up his face, turns back to watch the ceiling.

Klaus doesn’t sleep until it’s time for Diego to go to work.

Diego works on a construction site. He seems to enjoy it and the money is way better than waiting tables. Klaus makes him lunch, debates his usual note du jour and then thinks, fuck it. He writes ‘work it, tiger – xoxo’ on a piece of paper and hides it in the lunch box for Diego to find in the middle of the day.

Once Klaus is alone, he tidies, cleans, and then sets up his camera for their secondary source of income.

“Could you help me?” He wheedles Ben.

“Urgh,” Ben says, “with what? I’m not helping you do close ups again.”

“Oh. No, not that,” Klaus waves him off. “Get this curtain fixed.” He can pin one side but not the other, and Klaus likes a nice backdrop for his videos.

“Oh,” Ben says, sounding relieved, and helps him pin the fabric securely so he can flop about on the bed and not have it fall down. “Okay,” he says, “are we done?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Klaus tells him. “Adeiu, mon frere. Shut the door and I’ll let you know when I’m done, probably an hour.”

“Sure,” Ben says, rolls his eyes. Klaus makes him corporeal again for long enough to do the task required, and is pleased. They’re getting better at this all the time.

“Okay,” he says, and cracks his knuckles, sits cross legged in front of the web cam so that only his neck down is showing. He hits record.

“Bonjour, my lovelies,” he says, in his silkiest voice. “Would you like me to treat you, today? Maybe you’ve had a long day at the office. Maybe you want to relax, unwind, listen to something that will soothe and arouse you.”

And he spends the next forty minutes lackadaisically masturbating on camera whilst talking nonsense at an imaginary audience in that vein. Coming after that amount of time is akin to finally getting to sneeze, and he enjoys it immensely.

Klaus usually re-watches his performances before he lets them out into the wild, checks for any weird inconsistencies or noises, or anything accidentally revealing his face.

Today, feeling somewhat reckless, he just uploads the video as it is to his feed. Then he sits and watches the view count.

It’s not long before three people have watched, and then eight. And then two of them make charitable donations. And then four. And then -

“Oooh, sixty dollars, thank you,” Klaus says, fluttering his eyelashes at the comment next to the donation.

If he keeps this up, he’s going to be hitting maybe up to a grand a day. Fifty viewers have to donate an average of twenty dollars, or one hundred have to splurge ten, but the internet is big and he gets maybe five hundred or so viewers a time and he thinks he’s pretty niche, and it’s not really for the money anyway, but.

If Diego decides he doesn’t want to work, or gets sick, Klaus can surprise him with the cash.

“Hello darling,” Klaus greets his brother, in the evening. “how was your day?”

Diego lets him take his bag and then his coat while he toes off his shoes. “Regular day at work, babe,” he shrugs, in a kind of parody. He reaches forward for Klaus, grabs him by the waist. Klaus blinks at him. “What’s for dinner?” Diego asks, with a smirk, because he’s still an asshole.

Klaus slaps his chest. “Spaghetti,” he says, despite himself.

“You’re so awesome,” Diego groans, and releases Klaus as he heads to the shower. “Thank you,” he calls, as the water starts up.

The satisfaction hasn’t abated yet, Klaus notes, setting the table. When Diego is drying off his hair, pyjama clad, thank God – no patrol tonight, then – Klaus is dishing up. Diego’s plate has about twice what his does, because, well. Their metabolisms differ.

“I’m gonna get fat if you keep feeding me like this,” Diego grumbles, despite tucking in happily.

“It’s cheap,” Klaus says, “like me,” he flutters his lashes. “Eat up.”

When they’re done, Diego leaves stacking the dishwasher to him.

“Are you okay?” Klaus asks, squashed up in one corner of the couch around his brother, who is watching the laptop morosely.

“Oh,” Diego turns his head. “Yeah. Don’t worry.”

“Secrets,” Klaus grumbles.

“No, I just. It’s stupid,” Diego mumbles into his shirt.

“Alright,” Klaus says, and brings his arms up around Diego’s extremely well defined shoulders. “I mean. I doubt it. But whatever.”

“I keep worrying about Luther.”

“Valid. If he’s lost more weight that’s reasonable.”

“You didn’t see him Klaus. What if he has cancer or something and he’s not telling us because he’s… fucking, Luther?”

Klaus’ heart clenches horribly. “No,” he says out loud. “No, no, don’t think about that.”

“Well I am.”

Klaus moves closer. Diego grabs his arm. They don’t move from that position until it’s time to go to bed to sleep.

Klaus doesn’t like abandoning his online following for more than 24 hours without a video, so he makes sure to film something while Diego’s at work every week day and then leaves a camera on himself in the shower or something at the weekend. He’s always charmed by the amount of comments, likes and donations his headless body doing normal body things appears to be valued at.

He does, however, miss most mail and phone calls in the middle two hours of the day, which is why he startles to Vanya banging on the door one afternoon and telling him she tried to call, Diego said he didn’t work, sorry, was he out, this is important.

“Apologies,” Klaus says, before she gets to that, opening the door in a robe, trying to look like he didn’t just spend forty minutes on camera trying to make shapes out of spunk on his abdomen for monetary gain. “Vanya. Darling.”

And a little later on,

“I have no idea how to contact that little devil, last I heard he was living at the academy. Also, Diego didn’t mention that part.”

“Oh Klaus,” says Vanya, and she pats his arm. “I think he had other things on his mind.”

“Okay,” Klaus agrees. “I think I might have some old contact information from Five; he made me take it when we moved out. It’s just a list of burner phones I think because I tried one the other week when we needed someone to pick up food from that place that doesn’t deliver on Harper Street, but it wouldn’t connect.”

“Anything you have,” Vanya says, “I think he’s the only person who can figure out what’s going on with Luther. He seems really unwell and I’m worried.”

“Diego, too,” Klaus sighs. He digs out the contact information and hands it over, and then less than a week later -

“Fivey!” Klaus beams at his visitor. “What brings you to our humble abode?”

“Five?” Diego checks, getting up off the sofa where they’d been midway through this evening’s film choice. Klaus had been expecting the knock on the door to be Vanya again, sad that she hadn’t been able to contact Five.

“Hi,” Five greets them both, curt. “Vanya called.”

“Yeah I know, I gave her your numbers,” Klaus tells him. “How was your holiday?”

“I wasn’t on holiday,” Five says with a scowl.

“Okay, how was your-”

“Luther’s in trouble.”

“Okay,” Klaus says, slowly, “yes, okay. I-”

“What’s wrong with Luther?” Diego barrels over him, and then has the good grace to mumble, “sorry,” at Klaus’ hurt expression.

“He’s sick,” Five says, promptly. “He needs to get some professional treatment.”

“Oh no,” Klaus sits in a chair. “What’s he sick with?” Not cancer, not cancer, not cancer.

Five says, “He has an eating disorder,” and then follows that with, “he’s starving himself.”

There’s silence in the kitchen space for a moment.

It sinks in.

“God damn it,” Diego says, then, and leans on the other chair with both arms.

Klaus doesn’t know what Diego knows about eating disorders.

“He tell you that?” Klaus asks, feeling strangely unsettled by the news, strangely unsure of how to feel about it.

Klaus doesn’t know much. He knows enough, though, he thinks. Fuck.

“It was pretty obvious, after a few days with him,” Five says, and there’s definitely some guilt in his eyes; Klaus knows that look.

They stand in silence for a moment.

“Since… since when,” Diego asks, then, tentatively.

Oh.

“I don’t know,” Five says.

It’s actually quite hard to think about. Klaus is immediately taken back to the memory of the first time Luther seemed to cotton on that Klaus had quite a serious problem, actually, thanks. It was definitely nowhere even vaguely close to the start of his journey with pills and booze and getting fucked up and fu-

Fuck.

“So that’s why he’s losing weight,” is what Diego takes from that, “and now. He’s just going to, what, carry on losing weight until he’s dead?”

“That’s generally how it works,” Five returns. “I want him out of the state, far away from everything for a while. There are a couple of in-patient rehabilitation facilities I need to clarify some things with.”

“We can’t just put him in rehab and leave him there,” Klaus snaps, staring at the table.

“So we don’t,” Diego decides. “We’ll go with. Rent somewhere nearby.”

“I don’t think you understand how this works, you can’t visit him, these places are locked down.”

“Yeah I know,” Klaus says, speaking for Diego. “But if he’s – I mean, the eating disorder thing, you think he needs to get away from here?”

“Could be that house making him go nuts,” Diego is nodding. “I was going nuts. I can’t stand being there.”

“I don’t know if that’s it so much,” Five says, looking at them, “but I take your point, okay. Alright. Fine. Just in case. You’d want to come with, live nearby for a while? This could take months.”

“Yes, absolutely,” Klaus says.

“One hundred percent,” Diego says.

“Okay,” Five says. “By the way. How do you both feel about the ocean?”

They decide to go in three days time. That’s enough time to pack their things, Diego to wrap up at work and move their therapy sessions to phone calls, Klaus to sign off his video account for a while with a heartfelt apology and thanks, and Diego to absolutely freak out and get insanely overprotective about Luther in his absence.

“I have to go and get him,” Diego declares, once the car is packed. “He hasn’t been answering the damn phone and he needs to understand we support him. Shit, we haven’t even seen him since… shit. Okay. I’m going get him. I’m going to do the right thing.” God, so like him. Klaus wishes they weren’t brothers so, so, so hard. Then he could fall for him and they could live together forever and Diego is so. Urgh.

“Okay honey bunch,” Klaus tells him. “You do that. I’ll pack the snacks.”

“Alright,” Diego says, finishing up a glass of water.

Klaus tries to focus, suddenly, while Diego sits. Ben feels it across the table, winks at him, and then pushes Diego’s glass of water closer.

“YES!” Ben fist pumps. Klaus keeps quiet, wanting to see Diego’s reaction secondary to just looking surprised.

“Ben?” Is his first question, looking at the air around him.

Oh boy. Yes. Klaus wants to leap into his arms and kiss him all over the face.

“Oh, yeah, Ben’s there,” Klaus says, faking extreme casual, because he wants this to be normal so, so so so much.

“Cool,” Diego beams.

Klaus thinks his heart might explode, he feels so suddenly happy.

When Diego gets out of the academy with Luther in tow, Klaus having finally finished fussing with the arrangement of the trunk and Five back outside, and sitting in the drivers seat like they will need to make a quick getaway, Klaus is kind of floored by two things.

The first one is the way Luther looks. He’s lost an impossible amount of weight since Klaus saw him last. He feels a huge lump in his throat. Luther is pale, too, and shivering despite the decent enough weather and the shirt he has on. There are huge bags under his eyes and his eyes themselves are huge and shocky, like the world is too much for him.

Second, though, is the way he’s walking close to Diego and they have very, very obviously both been crying. Luther’s skin shows it more, his face is red like he’s been rubbing at it.

Diego herds him into a back seat next to Klaus.

About two hours out into the car journey, Luther kind of just fades out of consciousness. And then, far more worryingly, won’t wake back up.

“Okay I’m calling it,” Diego says, “get him to a damn hospital. Now.”

“The rehab place is only-” Five starts, driving determinedly, but Klaus in the back with Luther interrupts,

“His pulse is totally fucked, guys.”

“Define totally fucked,” Five demands, making a sudden turn like he just magically knows that there’s a hospital this way.

“All over the place,” Klaus clarifies. “He’s breathing but I mean. That’s not necessarily an indicator of prime health.”

“Hospital,” Diego repeats, staring at Luther like he’s going to stink eye him into waking up.

“Was he,” Klaus starts, because he actually doesn’t know how this works. “Uh. I mean was he just not eating, or making himself throw up, too?”

At Diego’s incredulous stare, he snaps, “because I think the second one usually comes with additional complications like spontaneous heart failure,” and Diego looks away. Then he looks back.

“How do you know that,” he says, flat.

“Relax,” Klaus rolls his eyes. “I’ve never made myself throw up. Uh. To get skinny, anyway,” he amends.

“Shut up, both of you,” Five says, and Klaus looks at his eyes in the mirror, sees panic and nothing good.

“Sorry,” he says, which makes Five look at him, but Klaus looks away, focuses on counting Luther’s heartbeats.

The nearest emergency room is twenty five minutes away and they admit Luther straight away. Diego carries him in and Klaus and Five kind of combine to figure out the right words to use for instant attention in a busy hospital. And then Klaus makes a sharp exit back to the car, because if there’s another thing he knows about any busy hospital it’s that it’s full of dead people.

And nobody who dies in a hospital is that happy about it.

Five and Diego find him a while later with his jacket re-purposed around his eyes and head, lying across the back seats, playing I spy with Ben but with his eyes closed so it’s ‘more of a challenge’.

“Bicycle,” he says, as Five opens the door.

“Come again?” Five says, rolls his eyes. “Luther is going to need 24 hours in there at least, by the way.”

“Leave him alone,” Diego tells Five off. “We talked about this.”

“Right,” Five says. “Too many dead people. Thought you’d be used to that.”

“Yeah well,” Klaus says, as Ben says,

“It’s not bicycle, sorry.”

“I mean, I am used to a bunch of your sorry victims trailing us around, none have bothered to come over the state border yet though,” Klaus continues, because he wants to be mean because Five is hurting his feelings by ignoring his feelings, oh for fucks sake he’s therapisting himself. He’ll tell Jimmer on their next call.

“Klaus,” Ben and Diego admonish in stereo.

“Urgh,” Klaus says, “Fine. I’m sorry. I can’t handle you ganging up on me.”

“Ben?” Diego says.

Klaus waves a hand and nods. Five is staring at Diego somewhat intently. “You’ve really bought into this,” Five says.

“I will hit you,” Diego informs him, calmly.

“Try it,” Five invites, quirking an eyebrow. “See what happens.”

“Guys,” Klaus says, quickly, because they can and will have a fight to end all fights, and they don’t need that. “24 hours, what’s the plan?”

Five breathes out through his nose. “We wait for him,” he says. “We take him to the rental place. See how stable he seems. The in-patient facility I called won’t take him if he’s critical.”

“He’ll be fine,” Diego says. “Let’s. I don’t know. Get a motel or something.”

Klaus has never been in a motel sober aside from that time he was tied to a chair and had the shit beat out of him. He’s not quite as put off as he was worried he would be.

They get one twin room, because Five has a tight wallet but really because Klaus doesn’t want either of them to not be in the same room as him. Okay, maybe he’s a little put off. He’s used to sharing a bed with Diego besides. Has grown to appreciate waking up, often disorientated and fearful, next to a living breathing human who also knows about his powers, his nightmares, his triggers and his list of acceptable comforts to get him back to sleep.

“No dead people, I thoroughly approve,” he says, doing a quick inspection of the bathroom. Ben says,

“Hey,” from the corner where he’s parked, and Klaus says,

“Does Ben count? He’s just a pain in my ass at this point,”

and Five gives him a stare like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, and Diego smacks him upside the head. “Don’t listen to him Ben,” Diego says, and Ben smirks at Klaus. “We appreciate you,” Diego tells what must to him just be thin air, Klaus thinks.

“Okay,” says Klaus, and concentrates very, very hard.

“Holy shit,” Five says, and Ben blinks.

“Oh cool, Klaus!” Ben exclaims. “Hi guys.”

“Are you solid?” Diego asks him.

“Mmm,” Ben tests it out on a table. “I guess,” he says. “I can touch stuff, anyway.”

“Come here,” Diego stomps across the room to him and sweeps him up in a bear hug.

“Aw, fam jam,” Klaus says, clapping his hands by his heart.

“Ben,” Five says again, “Is that really you?”

“Yeah man, I’m-” and then Five is looking around, saying

“Where did he go,”

While Ben is still talking and gesturing and moving through Diego.

Fuck. “Fuck,” says Klaus, “Fuck. I’m sorry. He’s still there. Obviously,” he looks desperately at Ben. Nobody looks mad at him, but he’s not sure that they aren’t. It would be fair. “I can’t. I haven’t figured it out right. Not for more than half a minute.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Diego is saying, while Ben says,

“Klaus, don’t worry.”

God. They are way too in tune for brothers that never really interact.

“I never think about your powers like that,” Five blurts suddenly. “That’s what you mean, you literally see people like they’re people? You don’t… I don’t know, you don’t just see… ghosts?”

“Well,” Klaus hugs himself, uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Yeah man,” he tries to laugh it off. “Why did you think I hate it so much? Constant crowd around and they do learn the name. Ben’s still an overachiever as a dead guy, he’s all sane and nice and stuff. Other dead people, not so much.”

“But there are none here?” Five pushes.

“Uh, no?” Klaus isn’t sure why he cares.

“Not even. People I’ve killed,” Five says, seemingly determinedly.

“Jesus, I was just trying to be a dick earlier,” Klaus complains. “Don’t bring it up. No. Nada. Nobody. And don’t ask again.”

“Klaus,” Diego says, warning tone, but Klaus doesn’t understand what he’s being warned about. Diego looks at him for a minute. “We should get some sleep,” he says, abruptly. “Be fresh for when we have to hijack Luther. Because I don’t know about you two but I do not have the cash for what I imagine that bill is gonna be.”

“I’m not tired,” Klaus says, but he recognizes the situation for what it is. “I saw a book in the bathroom. I’m going to grab it.”

They hijack Luther.

He’s awake but he looks incredibly out of it. Klaus recognizes anti-psychotics when he sees them at work.

“Hey buddy,” Klaus says, wanting to keep things cheerful and light. He’s personally been trapped and panicked under a blanket of sedatives before, and he doesn’t want the same thing to happen to Luther. “Hope they were nice to you. Got your electrolytes sorted out, I hear.”

“Klaus?” Luther blinks at him.

“Yeah, man,” Klaus says, as Five drives and Diego in the passenger seat looks ahead and they both generally don’t help the atmosphere. “Hey, you might be feeling a little sluggish,” he tells his brother, “that’s nothing to worry about, it’ll wear off okay? It looks like they gave you the good stuff. It’ll be just like that time at the rave, except no cutie-pies to get wasted with and no getting laid. Just us, your boring brothers.”

Luther frowns. “Okay,” he says, after a minute.

“Do you want to lay down or anything?” Klaus asks.

“No,” Luther says. Klaus shrugs. A minute later he kind of butts in on the front seats, turns on the radio.

They get to the rental Five has picked. It’s got three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a deck and is right on the edge of a little beach that has no other people on it when they arrive. They set Luther up in the blue bedroom, to start with, where he promptly goes back to dozing, and then unpack the car.

There’s not actually much to unpack. Klaus assumes he’s staying with Diego, even though there’s a pull-out sofa. Then he thinks he should ask.

“Do you mind if I stay in here?” He asks, unsure, bag on the threshold. “I can take the futon.”

“What?” Diego just looks annoyed for some reason. “Don’t be stupid. Your back only just got better.”

Klaus beams, bounces into the room. “Cool,” he says. “Hey, this mattress is nice.”

“What were you talking about with Luther, and getting wasted and getting laid?” Diego says, out of the blue.

“Oh, that. When he went clubbing way back when. Some girl thought he a was a… uh. Anyway. Yeah. He was trashed, hooked up in a club, brought her back to the academy. I don’t know if he even remembered it. And that was his first and only, I guess. I figured it was so loud and obvious that I’d have noticed any seconds or thirds.”

He looks up when Diego doesn’t reply. To his surprise, his brother looks a little upset.

“Klaus,” Diego says, slowly. “You know that’s not the same thing as having… actual regular sex? Right?”

“No he definitely did,” Klaus confirms. “There were no clothes in the morning, etc.”

“Not what I – Shit,” Diego says, rubs his face. “You know tea. Okay. Okay. So. You know England?”

“Yeah...”

“So the police there have this thing about tea.”

“It is England, yes.”

“Yeah. So. Uh. Look. If you’re trashed, and someone else is trashed and then they start making you drink tea, that’s weird, right? Not really the same experience as just having a cup of tea.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“If you’re unconscious and someone thinks you want tea, and they start pouring it at you, that’s like… obviously, not a good thing, right? They’re shitty and you’re also not just having a cup of tea the way you… are you following this?”

“Yeahhhhh… ”

“So that’s consent, man. The cup of tea is basically sex and all things related. And so. It covers all the bases. Like how you can think you want tea, and then not want it and that’s fine. And then it would be weird and not okay for someone to make you have it. And you can think you want it because you’re craving anything because you’re wasted, but that’s still like. Not what you really need. And it’s irresponsible to just give you tea. It won’t help. And I’m doing a really bad job of explaining this.”

“No,” Klaus says, feeling strange. “Go on.”

“Okay. So it’s like. Saying yes to tea once doesn’t mean that someone wants it all day every day. And I need to look this up again. But the whole thing is kind of a metaphor by the British to hammer home that if you have sex with someone they are supposed to be totally clear and on board with it every single time, because consent is a really… important… thing.”

He trails off, looking at Klaus.

“Um,” Klaus says.

“Yeah,” Diego says, looking sad.

“So,” Klaus says, and hugs himself. “Sharing. I’ve um. Never had sex. Sober.”

“Alright,” says Diego.

“And um. By that logic.” Klaus looks intently at the pine wardrobe in the corner. “I’ve never. I mean. I like tea fine. It’s fine.”

Diego is nodding in his periphery, but Klaus can’t look at him directly. He’s scared of what he might see. Mostly he feels detached and odd and like he wants space and comfort and he’s just not sure of anything right now.

“Have I seriously never had an actual proper consensual sexual encounter?” Klaus blurts, suddenly. “By British police’s definition?”

“I mean,” Diego says, after a minute, “only you know, man.”

Klaus makes himself look at his brother, then. Diego’s eyes are strange. He looks...

“No, no,” Klaus says, “no, stop. It’s not a bad thing. I loved being fucked up, every stupid minute.”

Diego nods.

“Okay,” Klaus huffs, “so I didn’t. It doesn’t matter. It’s the past, we’re here.” He tries not to think about Luther, about his brothers experiences, about what the fuck led him to the point where he won’t look after himself and wants to die (Klaus knows, he’s not saying it, he’s acting it – he’s trying to die, he doesn’t want to, he does want to, it’s fucking complicated and oh God, though, what if it’s about-

Nope.).

Klaus checks in on Luther once he’s unpacked. He’s confused when he wakes up again. Klaus thinks somebody really ought to be keeping a close eye on him, so he brings in a teapot, two cups and the book he found in the motel bathroom.

It’s called “First Year at Mallory Towers” and it’s extremely weird and he kind of loves it. It’s about a bunch of British girls at a boarding school, and there’s a lot of chat about being by the sea, which is, Klaus takes the time to tell Luther, where they are too, isn’t that cool. He reads a couple of chapters, until the tea is gone and Luther is upright and looking at his hands and apologizing and unsubtly asking if there’s a gym at this house.

“Fuck,” Klaus says to him at that point. “It’s got you good, doesn’t it. I get it, man.”

“Get what?” Luther asks, looking exhausted and nearly dead. Klaus feels for him so, so, so much.

“Hey,” Klaus says, instead of answering. “I know you’re not touchy feely. But do you want to hold hands or hug or something?” He decides to tell Five to up the schedule on getting Luther to the in-patient facility, in that he needs to go literally as soon as possible. “Tomorrow hopefully we’ll meet some people who can help you feel less shit. I have felt completely shit and it sucks so I just wondered if you want anything.”

He’s somewhat surprised when Luther sits up and holds out an arm, like he expects Klaus to lean on him. Well.

“What’s up?” Luther says. “You can talk to me.”

Klaus’ heart breaks a little. “Don’t worry,” he says, leans back against the headboard but settles under Luther’s arm. “This is nice. I hope you’re liking it too,” Klaus says. “Hey, do you want me to read some more?”

In the morning Five takes Luther to the clinic on his own, after Klaus and Diego hug him goodbye. Luther looks uncomfortable and mildly distressed, but also completely out of it. He’s so thin he looks like he could drop dead any minute, or like a paper cut could slice him in half.

“I hope he gets better,” Ben says, as they watch the car drive away.

“Me too,” Klaus replies.

Diego doesn’t say anything.

Luther has been in the in-patient clinic for a full week when Five finally asks the question that Klaus realises must have been bothering him for some time.

“Look,” Five says, and he kind of looks uncomfortable, but carries on. “You two seem pretty close now,” and yeah, Klaus is sitting in Diego’s lap annoying him by playing with his hair. “I just. You know if you’re uh. Oh, shit,” he says. “Fine. Look. If you two wanna make out and are just being polite and saving me from the sight, I don’t care, go ahead.”

“Um,” Klaus says.

“Urgh,” Diego makes a face.

“Hey,” Klaus hits him.

“Don’t hit me,” Diego says and jabs him hard in the ribs.

“Don’t fucking poke me,” Klaus says, and starts trying to poke Diego back. It doesn’t work great, and he gets jabbed a lot more for his efforts.

“I don’t want to make out with you ever, ever, ever,” Klaus snaps, from where Diego has pinned him to make him stop. “I bet you’d be crappy at making out.”

“Urgh, disgusting, no, and I know you know I’d be awesome,” Diego informs him loftily. “But that’s gross.” He looks back at Five, says pointedly, “because this is my brother, Five. What the hell.”

“Oh,” Five says. “Oh. Okay. You’re just even weirder than I thought.”

“Hey,” Klaus frowns again.

“What,” Five snaps, “you literally sleep together. You cuddle. You’re sitting on him right now. I mean you fight all the time too, but that’s a normal thing for some couples. I don’t judge.”

“Okay when you put it like that, I guess I forgive you for such a dumbass question,” Diego says, looking slightly sheepish.

“We see a therapist,” Klaus says. “It’s normal. We checked.”

“That’s… kind of sad, actually,” Five says, biting the inside of his cheek. “Having to check it’s normal I mean. I… I mean, who says you can’t be close.”

“Oh, no, this is totally maladaptive,” Diego tells him, blithe, and Klaus looks down at his fingernails. “But it’s normal maladaptive. Substitute something or other. Consequence of the, you know, years and years of child abuse.”

Klaus doesn’t know how Diego can talk like this. He suddenly feels dirty and wants to get off Diego’s lap. And then another part of him wants to lay a huge kiss on his brother and pretend to hump him, just to see if it freaks Five out.

“Oh,” Five says, “like Hansel and Gretel syndrome.”

“Yes,” Diego snaps his fingers at Five like they’re having a normal conversation and Five has remembered something that’s Diego had forgotten that was normal and not about their… urgh.

“Interesting,” Five says, leaning forward. Klaus studies Diego’s hair intently, starts messing with it again. Diego puts an arm around his waist and squeezes and at least that’s comforting, but Klaus feels like he’s suddenly under a lens, like everything he does is going to be watched and judged and it makes no sense but it’s how he feels. “When did that start?” Five asks.

“I… why?” Diego asks, suddenly guarded again for no reason Klaus can discern.

“Just wondering. Between your relationship with each other being so different, and Luther developing an eating disorder – and Klaus, Vanya told me you spent two hours on the phone to her Tuesday, and she’s in LA doing things with Allison’s agency and I don’t know, what’s next, what will I find out is different next? I’m just trying to keep a timeline together of who is doing what. I missed a lot and I’m still missing bits now even though I’m here.” He sounds frustrated enough that Klaus stops fretting and really looks at him.

“You’re the one who got to Luther,” Klaus reminds him. “You’re the guy who convinced Vanya to chill after she went on a Dad and Pogo killing rampage. You stopped the freaking apocalypse, and saved your brothers’ life, and that was just this, uh, ‘time’? But, you did it by knowing your siblings.”

“Do you feel like I know you?” Five says, peering at him intently, and Klaus has that feeling again, it rushes right back.

“Half the time I don’t think anybody does,” Klaus says. Jimmer got that one out of him. “Half the time I don’t.” And then he’s had enough, abruptly, not used to talking like this to anyone apart from Ben, his therapist and Diego, and those three in short doses and in relative privacy. He can’t bear to leave the physical contact so he just curls up and hides his face in Diego’s neck. “Can we stop talking about this, please?”

“Okay,” Five says. “Will it make you feel better if I share something painfully personal?”

Diego snorts. Klaus stays where he is.

Five says, “I’m completely over Dad’s torture house. I’m a lot older than you, I’ve had a lot of years to get mad and drunk about it and think about it and learn about coping mechanisms etc. that have left me completely able to discuss anything you’d like about Dad and growing up and all that. What I am absolutely in no way ‘over’ is finding four of you dead in the rubble in the apocalypse and the other two missing. That’s what I still don’t deal with very well at all. And if you’re feeling weird about whatever way you’ve found to cope with things, now, that’s fine and you should feel weird and go speak to a therapist or whatever you’ve been doing to help yourselves heal. I literally don’t care. I’m just unfathomably grateful to see you alive and well and loving each other besides; it’s something I never thought I’d get to come back to in the darker times before.”

Klaus should say something. He should say something in the quiet that follows that huge, gut wrenching confession. He has no fucking clue what to say.

“Five,” is all Diego manages.

“I know, kids. It’s a lot. We’re all very traumatized,” Five tells them, almost cheerfully. “This sharing thing has something to it.”

Klaus cracks. “I can’t handle it. It’s only boop, boop, boop -” he indicates the three of them without looking - “here and it’s so much to deal with,” he manages, against Diego’s neck.

“Boop, don’t forget Ben,” Diego says in his ear.

“Oh, yeah, because I’m so used to being able to include him in everyday conversation and have nobody look at me like I’m nuts,” Klaus says, pulling out of Diego’s neck to scowl at him even though he hasn’t said anything mean.

His brother sticks his tongue out at him.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Five announces, decidedly. Klaus pretends to himself that Five means coffee.

Diego makes him come on a run with him later on, and Klaus knows it’s because Diego is anticipating a bad night of sleep after that discussion and thinks tiring him out will help.

It totally works.

At just under seven weeks past admittance, Five gets a phone call.

Luther’s had enough, he’s done. Five goes to pick him up.

Klaus calls the clinic while Five makes a beeline to the car, because apparently Luther is literally done and is leaving through a window right fucking now, so Five’s gotta find him before he gets lost in the woods or whatever. Klaus knows that feeling. Rehab, right.

“Hi yeah, I’m calling about a payment for one of your residents?” He starts, because he can at least be helpful in this respect, and waits for a while and then gets around to the fifty fucking thousand dollar bill Luther has run up there. God damn. He knew it was going to be a lot.

The clinic are apparently not in approval over Luther’s dramatic exit, but he’s talking with the finance department. They transfer him through to clinical and Klaus hangs up before it connects.

When he turns around Diego is leaning up against a door with his arms folded.

“I did a nice thing,” Klaus says. “No money worries for when Luther gets back. I don’t know where Five is getting his money from but now he doesn’t have to worry.”

“Okay,” Diego says, then. “But where did you get the money for that?”

“Uh,” Klaus thinks fast. He has years of experience of lying and stealing behind him, but he’s trying so hard. And this is Diego. And.

“He’s been selling pornography on the internet,” Ben yells at Diego’s face, while Diego obviously can’t hear him. Klaus kind of wishes he could.

“Well,” Klaus says, thinks, fucking fuck it. “While you used to go to work I had a fairly profitable venture going on between myself, the camera on the laptop and the perusers of pornhub dot com.”

Diego blinks for a minute.

“Porn,” he says, then, flatly. “You’re… why the fuck were you doing porn, Klaus?”

Klaus, sensing danger, immediately puts his hands in the air. “It’s fine, and I’m probably going to start it up again actually. It’s just me, the webcam, the internet,” he rushes out. “All above board. No head shots. Well,” he can’t help but amend. He feels worse and worse as Diego just stares at him.

“Jesus Christ,” Diego is saying. “Oh my fucking God. Why do you feel the need to – is it me? Are you pissed because I don’t buy you enough shit or something?”

“What?” Klaus says, alarmed and now also growing swiftly confused.

“Oh my God,” Diego says, looking almost physically sick, and Klaus doesn’t understand why at all. “Is it because of us? You want to go and – I don’t know, whatever with other people and you’re not because you’re stuck here with me and Five and-”

“No, no, no, shut up,” Klaus says, loud enough to drown him out. “No, fucking no. This. Has. Nothing. To. Do with you.”

“They why?” Diego asks him, looking madder by the second.

“Why the fuck are you determined to see this as so very bad and horrible?” Klaus bites out. “You got to fuck off all nights of the week and prance around in a mask and risk gratuitous injury; I got to have people pay just to look at me with no clothes on. Doing… fucking… nothing, half the time.”

“What?! And – Klaus – Jesus – That is not the same,” Diego tells him, and his tone is lowering into what Klaus thinks of as the danger zone. Fine. He reaches down for his own game face.

“Oh no? You think I didn’t fucking hate that? You deluded yourself into thinking I slept while you were out getting hurt or worse? I know that city, Diego.”

“So you stayed inside, with your fucking webcam and a bunch of perverts on the internet-”

“Yes, you stupid cunt, that’s what I did, I fucking can’t-”

“And now you want to start it up again, Jesus Christ-”

“Yeah, I do,” Klaus says, loudly, “and I’m going to and you’re not the fucking boss of me by the way.”

“Just get laid if you need to! Jesus Christ!”

“I don’t like sex!” Klaus yells. Then, at normal volume, “I’m sorry,” because he is, for some reason, “I’m sorry, I would ‘just get laid’ just for you, man,” and he feels strangely hysterical all of a sudden, “but I don’t like it and I don’t want it and other people are the main major issue with this, and-”

“What?” Diego interjects, looking part confused part horrified all over again.

“-I can’t exactly ‘just get laid’ without involving other people, and do you know, do you know how fucking disgusting they are? I don’t care about kinks, I don’t care about weird stuff, but what does it say if you get off spitting in some other guys mouth and then telling them how much of a whore they are, or strangling them, or getting slapped until I’m crying even though we never fucking discussed getting hit while I’m taking dick, did we, and Ben just has to watch because he’s always there, and I just get crack or pills or some shit afterwards and get high and who cares what gets put in their mouth when they’re fucking unconscious, but Diego I don’t want the fucking tea, I didn’t realize that was what was happening and now it’s all I can think about,” and he has to stop because he’s hyperventilating, and he backs up until he hits something and then his knees give out.

“Jesus Christ,” Diego is saying, again, down on his knees next to him, not touching him at all. “It’s okay, Klaus. It’s okay. I didn’t mean, we can talk about it, we don’t have to talk about it, I didn’t think, okay? Oh, shit, I’m fucking this up. Um. Breathing. Do the breathing. Do you want to copy mine?”

And they’ve done this before, a couple of times, and Klaus lets his mind go back to those instead of ruminate on the cause of his panic attack. After a nightmare, Ben at the side of the bed telling him to listen to Diego, and Diego letting him put a hand on his stomach while he breathed evenly, deliberately. He flaps a hand out, hoping Diego will know what he means.

His brother catches it like he was hoping, holds in the same spot again.

When his chest feels a little less like it’s wrapped in a steel band and his heart rate and breathing are back to semi reasonable rates, he looks up and sees Ben, leaning back against the couch like he can’t bring himself to come closer, hands over his face, expression a mess.

“Oh Ben,” Klaus wheezes. “Ben, Ben.”

“Oh Ben what,” Diego asks, watching him intently. “Ben you okay?”

Ben shakes his head, and then takes a huge breath and then doesn’t appear to know what to say. He looks strangely almost ashamed about something.

“Come and sit with us,” Klaus says, after another minute. “Come and sit with us and tell us what’s wrong.” His chest still hurts. He feels drained. All over one stupid confession that he figured wasn’t that much of a big deal.

“How are you doing?” Diego asks, letting his hand go when he pulls it back.

“Sorry,” Klaus says, because he is. “I’m sorry. I fucking hate it though when you go out and beat people up and do your hero shtick, I know it’s important, I know it saves lives but I’m selfish and spend my whole night worried as fuck and hoping you’re not dead.”

“Well karma’s a little bitch then,” Diego returns, sharply. “How’d you think I used to feel when we were twenty five?”

“Don’t,” Klaus snaps. “That’s different.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Don’t,” Klaus asks again, and then adds, “I’m sorry,” because he still is and Diego should know that.

“Stop saying sorry, if you say sorry one more time I’m going to hit you,” Diego informs him.

“I make a heart wrenching confession about getting raped and you tell me you’re going to hit me, that’s really nice bro,” Klaus says, feeling himself go cold at the words and trying to just observe the feeling instead of getting caught in it. He exhales for a long moment, and feels Diego get tenser and tenser at his side.

“Just,” Diego says, “give me a second. I’ll be back and it’s nothing to do with you,” and he stands, fluidly and exits the room. After a moment Klaus heads a thudding sound against the brick outside of the house.

Klaus knows he shouldn’t have said as much. But to be honest, he didn’t say that much. It’s one word that gets to him. He might be sick. He might – finally – topple over the fucking edge of no return, he might just. He can’t think about it. He was just trying to pay for Luther’s fucking treatment bills.

He looks over at Ben.

“So that’s a thing I did,” Klaus says, morosely.

Ben looks shaken up and sick, like he’s going to cry. Klaus hasn’t seen him look like that in a very long time. “Should I call the therapist,” he says, knowing the answer. “Is that a good idea.”

Diego comes back in. He’s got a glass of water. His hands are shaking, and his knuckles are bloody and looking like they’re going to swell up and hurt badly.

“This is for you,” he says, hands Klaus the glass and starts to cry. He scrubs at his eyes as soon as it starts, but it just streaks blood across his face and makes his eyes look sore, too.

“Diego,” Klaus says, a swell of protectiveness suddenly consuming him, and the emotional ricochet has him on his feet, hands all over his brother because Diego needs physical affection. He pulls one set of knuckles towards him as Diego swipes over his own face again with the other. “Come on,” says Klaus, “let me clean this up. What have you done this for, how are you going to punch any bad guys now,” he tuts, hearing himself effectively gaslight his brother in reverse and hating it but he can’t stop. Things have to feel better immediately; he can’t deal with it. He brings his water, sipping it en route to the sink. He feels more grounded. “Good call on the drink,” he praises, and then dabs at Diego’s hands with a wet cloth until they’re a little cleaner. “You need to ice this, hopefully it won’t swell and you’ll heal up super quick.”

“I’m so sorry, Klaus,” Diego finally speaks. Klaus gets a new cloth damp and uses it to mop up around Diego’s face, careful of his eyes. Diego just looks right at him, which is strangely intimate given the conversation, and Klaus stops what he’s doing and looks right back.

“One day we’ll have no secrets left,” Klaus says, unsure of where it’s coming from. “I’ll know everything about you and you’ll know everything about me and we can live happily ever after because we’ll be good and fixed and know how to deal with things.”

Diego nods. Klaus smoothes down some of his hair, runs a hand down his neck. Then he leans in and presses his lips to Diego’s cheek.

Diego collects him up in a hug, at that, and they stand in the kitchen for a while until Klaus remembers that the ice should happen sooner, rather than later.

It’s okay.

Luther is looking so much better. Happier, as well as healthier. He spends a lot of time on his own, but Klaus thinks that’s by choice because he also doesn’t seem to have any issue seeking out Five. They play weird serious games and have weird serious discussions about things like biology, which Klaus has little time for.

And Klaus and Diego aren’t speaking, playing at fighting on account of knowing nobody is really cross at the other but they need practice in constructive conflict rather than emotional combat so to speak (thanks, Jimmer), so when Klaus realizes he’s been levitating a playing card for the better part of ten minutes and wants to show someone – it’s obvious.

Luther is watching the sunset, looking peaceful. Klaus wants some of that peace.

“Can I show you something mad cool?” he asks, head tipped back on the backrest. “I’m not so good at it yet but I wanted to tell someone.”

“So you picked me?” Luther frowns.

“Well, yeah,” Klaus frowns back. Maybe he’s being annoying. “Anyway.” He does his party trick.

Luther stares.

“When...” he begins, trails off.

After a moment, Klaus opens his hand and the card slowly makes its way back into his grip. “Right?” He says to Luther, kind of excited.

“Holy… wow,” Luther breathes. “What did Diego say? Have you shown Five?”

“No, just you, just you,” Klaus says, suddenly realizing that this might be a thing after all, that him and Luther can have. “I haven’t shown anybody else. It’s not really any good yet. I think it will be.”

“It’s amazing,” Luther tells him. “Well done.”

Oh that feels good. “Thanks, oh fearless leader,” Klaus says, genuine. “I’m going to practice it a bit every day. See what happens. If I get up to something heavy like a rock or something I’ll let you know.”

“You didn’t tell Diego?” Luther says, again, and Klaus tells him about their fight. Luther looks a little sad. Klaus doesn’t like it.

“Oh don’t fret. This is your vacation, you’re not supposed to fret. Five picked this place especially.”

“So that we’d have somewhere to hide out after I broke out of the rehab place,” Luther says, and yes. Yes, Luther, yes.

“Absolutely,” Klaus nods. “You and me are in an exclusive club now.” The rehab brothers, yay. “I’d have a celebratory drink with you but those things are disgusting, I don’t know why you like them,” he says, poking towards one of the shakes that Luther will eat now. They’re doing their job, he’s looking so, so much less like he’s about to drop dead at any minute.

“I’ll drink your tea,” Luther says, then.

Klaus is suddenly so proud. Luther should know. “Seriously though. If you don’t want me to talk about it I won’t.” He really won’t. There’s loads he doesn’t bring up with Diego and Five. “But you look good. You’re nearly as big as Five now, that scrawny little midget.” Five is a bean pole. Luther is a bit of a skeleton.

Klaus is dismayed to see his comment have the opposite effect than intended. Luther’s face drops immediately, and he says, “Right,” and looks away.

“Oh cool, I did put my foot in it,” Klaus says, trying to think about how the hell to fix this now. God he’s so stupid. “Go me. Okay. You want me to go get Five? You two can do some calming, uh. Science and math.” Oh Jesus the guilt is starting.

“You don’t have to do that,” Luther says, sounding upset, and Klaus tries,

“Hey, I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again,” before Luther definitely won’t look at him, and he goes to get Five.

A few days later, Klaus arranges himself on his sunbed, speedos on at Ben’s insistence despite his original intent to sunbathe naked. He thought Luther could use the example of someone comfortable in their own skin. Diego, he knows, wouldn’t care less and Five would grumble but, like Luther, Klaus thinks he may need to just realize that there are more ways to live.

Diego inspects his vasculature, which makes Klaus make snide comments about shooting up into said vasculature, and then Diego has enough and slaps at him. Klaus cannon balls into his lap, because he can, and starts trying to make Diego hit himself. It’s hard work. Diego is strong.

Luther tries to tell them to quit it, and Diego launches them both off the sunbed onto the decking. Klaus waits until Diego thinks he’s got him pinned and then uses his yoga-honed fighting skills to get him square in the solar plexus. Diego is going to be mad, Klaus thinks, running away like a madman, sunbed forgotten.

“Get back here you little shit,” his brother yells.

“Catch me, you slow turdball,” Klaus yells without looking, and he leaps down the sand dunes at the edge of the beach and sprints for the ocean.

In hindsight that was a dumb idea.

Klaus spends the next half hour escaping from Diego, who won’t let him leave the water once they’re both in, and contemplating how little insulation speedos provide in the tepid ocean.

“Let me gooooo,” Klaus is howling. “Ben, help me!”

Ben is in the surf, cracking up. Again.

“Can’t,” he wheezes, “dead,” and Klaus is about to retort but gets another face full of sea water as Diego yanks his feet out from under him.

Diego seems to be finding it hilarious as well; when Klaus surfaces he’s a few yards away, just his eyes above the water, mimicking a shark fin with his other hand.

“You suck,” Klaus informs him, crossing his arms and not retreating any more.

“Aw,” Diego says, popping upright. “It’s no fun if you’re not trying to run away.”

“Ben thinks you’re hilarious, I hope you’re happy.”

“I’m very happy,” Diego confirms, smug, flopping backwards to paddle about some more.

“I can’t swim, teach me to swim,” Klaus says.

“You can swim, we can all swim,” Diego tells him, and kicks the water hard so that it splashes everywhere.

“No, the fun kind of swimming like you’re doing. Not the boring drills that we had to do for that entire summer when we were nine.”

“It’s the same thing, dip shit.”

“No it’s not. Okay fine. Maybe I just hated that tutor and don’t want to do anything he said. I want you to teach me how to do it.”

“Fucking hell, Klaus,” Diego says. “Your issues have issues, I swear.”

“Stop hating on the issues, they’ll get issues,” Klaus tells him. “Speaking of. Do we have a phone call with Jimmer this week?”

“Yes,” Diego says, “I booked one in. Friday I think.”

“Luther looks good. Well. Better,” Klaus says, apropos of nothing, but it's on his mind.

“Uh huh,” Diego says.

“So do you,” Klaus tells him. “And me. I like being seventeen. Eighteen. Twenty one. Uh.”

Diego swims over. “I like you,” he says, with a smile.

“Why did that prick adopt us, you’re so perfect, we could have been perfect,” Klaus sighs, looping his arms around his brothers neck.

“That’s a fucking weird thing to say,” Diego informs him, and then kisses him on the face anyway.

Klaus feels that feeling again, that weird thing where he thinks it actually means that he’s happy. “Love you, bro,” he says.

“Love you too,” Diego tells him.

Not perfect, by any means. But to Klaus’ heart right then, in that moment; perfection.