The world is ending. You know. Again. Seriously, Universe, get some new material, this is getting old already.
The wedding went off with... Okay, some minor hitches, but who can expect perfection at a Hargreeves wedding, right?
The reception was good. It was nice, everyone in one place, for a (kinda) happy occasion. Even Five was having a good time, which was, like, a Herculean feat if there ever was one, so kudos to Luther and Sloane for that one. Achievement Unlocked.
Klaus and Ben had wandered off into the house to give the newlyweds some time alone. "It's weird," Klaus says as they wander through a long, winding hallway. He leans into Ben's side, one arm looped through his, grasping for the other's fingers to tangle them together too. "everything is so different... and still the same, too." he trails a finger of his free hand along the wall as they walk, dropping it back down to his side when they turn a corner.
He isn't just talking about the house, but it's easy to assume that's all it is. Especially drunk.
Klaus is just glad he isn’t objecting to it— were he more sober, he thinks Ben would have shoved him away, but… this is better. It’s almost cute, the way he lifts their linked hands, as if he were confused by it altogether. Klaus can’t help the little smile that tugs at his lips.
“Yeah… I know,” is all he says, perfectly content to just keep wandering, keeping Ben close. And that’s the main thing, isn’t it? He just wants him close, because he misses it, because it feels more natural than anything else. Everyone else could move through losing Ben, their Ben, in the new, complete way that they had because it was something they’d all done and been through years ago. It’s different for Klaus, because he never truly lost him. Ben had been grudgingly by his side for the last sixteen years. The loss of him was fresh and new and raw.
And then there he was.
Different. Not theirs. But not really wrong, either.
The others remember Ben as quiet. As studious and sweet and kind. And those things were true. But he could also be scathing in his anger, manipulative and judgmental. It’s just easier to filter out the negatives when speaking of the dead.
This Ben. New Ben. Doesn’t feel that different to Klaus as their old one. Mostly, it’s just different parts of him are more highlighted than others. His anger quicker is to surface because he uses it to shield the things he thinks make him seem weak. And the jealousy. Boy howdy, it’s a flashing neon sign at all times.
He tugs on Ben’s fingers and leads them into one of the rooms with a soft, “C’mon,” moving swiftly to the bed.
All of his movements are fluid as he grabs the bottle of scotch and sets it on the table beside the bed and falls gracelessly into the bed, a tug on Ben’s wrist tipping him down with him. He laughs, something soft and light, and grins at the Sparrow.
That smile. He has a feeling it doesn't surface much. This one, which feels and looks more genuine than anything else Klaus thinks he's seen on Ben's face the entire time they've been here. It's nice. It's even better knowing that on some level, he's kind of the reason for it.
"This was my room, when this was our house," he says in way of eventual explanation. That had been the draw of this room, specifically. He shift a little and reaches up to trace his fingers along the wall by the bed in a pattern that isn't there to follow. Blank. Empty. Bare. It looks... so strange to him without any of his scribbled writings and quick drawings on it.
He glances over at Ben when he shifts to squint at the wall, and a smirk slides over his face as he realizes what the other is trying to see what he's doing- except he can't make out the shape of it, because there's nothing on the wall to see. He doesn't call him out on it, though. There's no point, it really isn't important.
As he settles back on the mattress again, Klaus shifts and settles, too, carding his fingers lazily through Ben's hair. "Yeah, well, so did I," he points out, an amused tone in his voice. "'til Dad kicked me out and cut me off, anyway," he shrugs.
There’s an obvious ease of tension in the body next to his, and Klaus ignores the way noticing that makes his heart skip a beat in his chest. Just the alcohol. Or the stress of staring down his third Apocalypse in as many years. It’s nice, though, knowing he’s part of that relaxed set of Ben’s shoulders right now.
He snorts softly. “Well, yeah— none of us wanted to stay. Not after Five disappeared. After Ben died…” and he knows that will be awkward, not because he doesn’t know this fact about the Umbrella’s version of him, but because it sounds so much like he’s talking about him, instead of to him; but Klaus knows that in the very small amount of time the lot of them have been under one roof, Ben has heard comparison after comparison to their Ben. The better one. The nicer one. And on and on and on. But Klaus thinks… treating them like different people is a better plan. “Luther was the only one that stayed, the rest of us ditched the second we had a chance.”
The mere mention of his own name - except not his name - makes him open his eyes. He looks over at Klaus for a split second before he focuses (well 'focuses' in the loosest sense of the term, since it feels impossible to make his eyes truly focus on anything right now) on the ceiling. Some of his tension starts to return as well. Even if Klaus has spent the least time of all the Umbrellas comparing him to their Ben, and it's clearly not that anyway since Klaus is talking of their Ben's death, it still gets under his skin. Even if it feels clear that it's not going to happen between the subject matter and it being Klaus, Ben's still prepared for it to devolve into fawning over the dead brother. Honestly, Klaus doesn't even need to say anything at this point. Ben's more than capable of spiralling with little provocation. He can hear in his head all the ways he's inferior to the other Ben. He was nicer, he was more thoughtful, he was a mess but they loved him anyway. He was this, he was that, he was all the things you're not, Number Two.
Ben sits up abruptly (a poorly chosen action, as it makes the whole room spin) and moves to grab the bottle of scotch from the bedside table. He takes a few long, deep drinks from the bottle and for the moment, it washes away the bad taste the mere mention of the other Ben puts in his mouth. "Of course you all left but Luther stayed." That's actually a dig at Luther and not the dig at the rest of them that it probably sounds like. "And then he was shipped off to the moon. So in one way or another, you all left in the end."
His hand falls against the mattress when Ben sits up suddenly, and Klaus knows that a nerve was hit, even though he had tried to avoid it. It’s too new, too raw, to avoid this kind of knee-jerk reaction, he supposes. “Hey,” he mumbles, reaching for him again, fingers trailing up Ben’s back, pouting a little at the loss of contact.
“Yeah, and we see how all that turned out,” he scoffs softly. They were a mess at best, and collapsibily dysfunctional otherwise. Klaus loves his siblings, but there is no denying they are mostly just a disaster wrapped up in the package of people.
He lets his fingers catch Ben’s wrist on the hand not holding the scotch, tugging gently, a silent beg for him to come back. If he does rejoin him, he will find himself half-blanketed by Klaus— head on his shoulder, fingers tracing idle nonsense patterns into the material of his shirt against his chest, his whole body curled into his tucked neatly against his side with one leg draped over Ben’s own. There’s just something comforting about it, the solidness of him, the warmth of him, every point of contact proving the realness of the other man under him.
"I think it's just... a rule of being a Hargreeves," he mumbles quietly. "that you have to come out of it fucked up and traumatized." Which is actually really... really depressing to think about, but two batches of kids, two different timelines, and not a single one of them came out of it unscathed.
He hums a soft sound at that, debating how to say what he wants to say next. There's a few factors to consider, but... when has Klaus ever been the one to think too much before he just acts? "You know..." he tilts his head up a little. "weddings, they- they're not one person choosing another family over theirs... it's all about the merging, you know- the- bringing everybody together," he reaches across Ben's middle for his hand to thread his fingers through the spaces in Ben's. "you don't have to be alone."
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{Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
You know.
Again.
Seriously, Universe, get some new material, this is getting old already.
The wedding went off with...
Okay, some minor hitches, but who can expect perfection at a Hargreeves wedding, right?
The reception was good. It was nice, everyone in one place, for a (kinda) happy occasion. Even Five was having a good time, which was, like, a Herculean feat if there ever was one, so kudos to Luther and Sloane for that one. Achievement Unlocked.
Klaus and Ben had wandered off into the house to give the newlyweds some time alone. "It's weird," Klaus says as they wander through a long, winding hallway. He leans into Ben's side, one arm looped through his, grasping for the other's fingers to tangle them together too. "everything is so different... and still the same, too." he trails a finger of his free hand along the wall as they walk, dropping it back down to his side when they turn a corner.
He isn't just talking about the house, but it's easy to assume that's all it is. Especially drunk.
no subject
“Yeah… I know,” is all he says, perfectly content to just keep wandering, keeping Ben close. And that’s the main thing, isn’t it? He just wants him close, because he misses it, because it feels more natural than anything else. Everyone else could move through losing Ben, their Ben, in the new, complete way that they had because it was something they’d all done and been through years ago. It’s different for Klaus, because he never truly lost him. Ben had been grudgingly by his side for the last sixteen years. The loss of him was fresh and new and raw.
And then there he was.
Different. Not theirs. But not really wrong, either.
The others remember Ben as quiet. As studious and sweet and kind. And those things were true. But he could also be scathing in his anger, manipulative and judgmental. It’s just easier to filter out the negatives when speaking of the dead.
This Ben. New Ben. Doesn’t feel that different to Klaus as their old one. Mostly, it’s just different parts of him are more highlighted than others. His anger quicker is to surface because he uses it to shield the things he thinks make him seem weak. And the jealousy. Boy howdy, it’s a flashing neon sign at all times.
He tugs on Ben’s fingers and leads them into one of the rooms with a soft, “C’mon,” moving swiftly to the bed.
All of his movements are fluid as he grabs the bottle of scotch and sets it on the table beside the bed and falls gracelessly into the bed, a tug on Ben’s wrist tipping him down with him. He laughs, something soft and light, and grins at the Sparrow.
no subject
"This was my room, when this was our house," he says in way of eventual explanation. That had been the draw of this room, specifically. He shift a little and reaches up to trace his fingers along the wall by the bed in a pattern that isn't there to follow. Blank. Empty. Bare. It looks... so strange to him without any of his scribbled writings and quick drawings on it.
no subject
As he settles back on the mattress again, Klaus shifts and settles, too, carding his fingers lazily through Ben's hair. "Yeah, well, so did I," he points out, an amused tone in his voice. "'til Dad kicked me out and cut me off, anyway," he shrugs.
no subject
He snorts softly. “Well, yeah— none of us wanted to stay. Not after Five disappeared. After Ben died…” and he knows that will be awkward, not because he doesn’t know this fact about the Umbrella’s version of him, but because it sounds so much like he’s talking about him, instead of to him; but Klaus knows that in the very small amount of time the lot of them have been under one roof, Ben has heard comparison after comparison to their Ben. The better one. The nicer one. And on and on and on. But Klaus thinks… treating them like different people is a better plan. “Luther was the only one that stayed, the rest of us ditched the second we had a chance.”
no subject
Ben sits up abruptly (a poorly chosen action, as it makes the whole room spin) and moves to grab the bottle of scotch from the bedside table. He takes a few long, deep drinks from the bottle and for the moment, it washes away the bad taste the mere mention of the other Ben puts in his mouth. "Of course you all left but Luther stayed." That's actually a dig at Luther and not the dig at the rest of them that it probably sounds like. "And then he was shipped off to the moon. So in one way or another, you all left in the end."
no subject
“Yeah, and we see how all that turned out,” he scoffs softly. They were a mess at best, and collapsibily dysfunctional otherwise. Klaus loves his siblings, but there is no denying they are mostly just a disaster wrapped up in the package of people.
He lets his fingers catch Ben’s wrist on the hand not holding the scotch, tugging gently, a silent beg for him to come back. If he does rejoin him, he will find himself half-blanketed by Klaus— head on his shoulder, fingers tracing idle nonsense patterns into the material of his shirt against his chest, his whole body curled into his tucked neatly against his side with one leg draped over Ben’s own. There’s just something comforting about it, the solidness of him, the warmth of him, every point of contact proving the realness of the other man under him.
no subject
He hums a soft sound at that, debating how to say what he wants to say next. There's a few factors to consider, but... when has Klaus ever been the one to think too much before he just acts? "You know..." he tilts his head up a little. "weddings, they- they're not one person choosing another family over theirs... it's all about the merging, you know- the- bringing everybody together," he reaches across Ben's middle for his hand to thread his fingers through the spaces in Ben's. "you don't have to be alone."