Chapter Text
It took Lila a while to come around to Luther, mainly because he was nowhere to be seen whenever she was around. He was anxious, edgy round her, and she never had time for people who treat her like a bomb with a lit, very short fuse. He was also pretty sensitive to monkey jokes, which Lila found out the hard way. But, to Lila's surprise, he actually wasn't that hard to come round too.
Sleep was something that usually escaped Lila. She remembers drinking copious amounts of caffeine so her mother wouldn't know she'd spent half the night crying at the thought of killing an innocent person the next day. She'd grown out of the crying after a little while, but she still lay awake, staring endlessly at the pitch-black ceiling, night after night. She never lay awake when she was with Diego. She felt safe, loved for real by someone, and she found sleep came a lot easier when content.
But that's not to say she still didn't have bad nights.
Free reign of the academy was something Lila didn't have in the day. The chances of bumping into one of Diego's siblings was just too high. (Although she did try to bump into Claire every now and then. Lila liked Claire, although Allison seemed to be very aware and equally disapproving of this fact.). However, at night, she could walk around bare naked and not meet anyone at all. Not that she would, because Diego's shirts were comfortable and she was pretty sure that there were cameras around, but she found a strange comfort in the idea that it was an option. Tonight was one of those nights, and she was hungry, especially since she swapped an evening meal for an early night. (Her new routine is tiring, something that she finds funny, considering her past occupation was highly trained assassin.). Lila really, really hates untangling herself from Diego's arms, and her heart softens a little round the edges when, still asleep, he reaches for her. But she carefully shuts the door to their bedroom, and makes her way to the kitchen. She's pretty proud that she's almost learnt her way around the entire academy.
(Granted, Claire picked it up quicker than she did, but it's an achievement nonetheless.)
She leans heavily on the door for the kitchen, expecting it to stick like it normally does. It bangs open and she winces as it clatters against the wall, and she's so focused on the loud noise that, at first, she doesn't notice the light spilling from the kitchen. But then she does, and she's immensely curious and also a little scared about why someone else is up in the middle of the night.
She's a little embarrassed to admit that she didnt think it was going to be Luther. The dude looks like he gets his full eight hours every night without fail. Lila never sees any faded purple bags under his eyes.
Well good for Luther.
She's not too surprised to see him eating a sandwich. Nine out of ten times, Luther is seen eating. Seriously, one time she and Diego found him eating right after a shower, still damp, wrapped in a towel and everything.
(Diego thinks he might be keeping a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter in the bathroom.)
He doesn't stop even when he sees her hanging in the doorway.
"Hey Lila. Um...do you want a sandwich?" His words are muffled through a mouthful.
She shrugs and joins him at the table. The table is worn, with scratches on the wood and grooves where Diego absent-mindedly drove his knife through. Lila is actually fairly surprised, with seven super-powered siblings, that the table hasn't been completely obliterated. Luther points to the bread and, surprise surprise, peanut butter. She shakes her head. She's never been a fan of peanut butter.
"Not a peanut fan? I get it." He pauses, as if wondering whether to make further conversation. "When we were kids, after missions, we always used to make peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. To build up our energy. Five still makes them, although he tries his best to hide it. I think blinking is pretty draining for him."
Lila nods slightly, trying to suppress a grin at the idea of Commission-renowed assassin Five Hargreeves eating a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich.
"You are allowed to talk to me, you know."
"It's two in the morning. I'm not that confident in my conversation skills."
He laughs a little, smiling and shaking his head.
"So why you down here?"
She shrugs.
"Vampires don't sleep."
She doesn't know whether to laugh or be concerned at the fact that Luther takes her seriously for a few moments, but as a grin breaks out on his face she can't help but smile, just a little.
___________________________________________
After a little while, Lila looks forward to bumping into Luther. He's not as jumpy, not as edgy around her, and he seems to look forward to bumping into her.
(Diego isn't too happy about this, but Lila is glad that he's making an effort.)
When Luther asks her if she wants to go for a walk she's surprised that he's serious. But she nods, a little stunned, and let's Diego know that she's going. He's seems more surprised than she was to learn that she's going with Luther, but he blows her a kiss and tells her to be careful. She rolls her eyes. He knows her well enough by now to know that she never is.
Luther walks fast, to say the least. With determination, like he's actually intent on getting somewhere. Lila is a little out of breath trying to keep up with him as he strides out ahead, but apart from having to jog to catch him up every now and then she's fine with a brisk walk. Gets the circulation going and whatnot. Lila glances at him sideways. He walks quick, but slightly hunched over with a stern look that she's sure masks anxiety. Kids point at him, wide eyed, and adults stare, whispering amongst each other. At first she thinks it's because of his obvious looming figure, and throws a hard stare at everyone looking. But then she notices him pulling his sleeve down over his wrist. And she can tell that her face gives her away, because he's pulling his sleeve down just like her Diego does, when he's trying to hide that stupid, faded tattoo. She doesn't exactly know what to do to help him with that. She can't hold his hand like she holds Diego's, can't comfort him like she comforts her boyfriend. She glances at her own wrist, briefly thrown by the idea that in another world she'd have an identical one.
(She's actually a little unnerved at this thought.)
Almost impulsively, she reaches out and pats Luther's arm. She can feel him tense underneath his massive overcoat, but he turns his head and meets her poorly-masked pity with a grim but grateful smile. She can't find words, but she doesn't think she needs them.