Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

20: 2018, January.

Klaus sees Dave from across the room. He's freshly shaved and settling into a bunk for the night. His rucksack is tucked under the cheap metal of the bed-frame. His dog tags hang off of his neck where he is leaning over a worn novel. Idly, Klaus thinks that he must’ve checked it out from the library.

Klaus’ body seems to hold hostage all its functions at the sight of him. So, instead of walking over and calmly asking to sit down like they’d planned, their legs stop working. They just stand there: Hovering about a metre from his bed frame and staring at him like an idiot.

The corner of Dave's mouth quirks in an awed smile when he sees them. "Hey."

"Hey," Klaus replies lamely, offering up a little wave. Their smile is uncharacteristically shy. 

Dave holds their gaze like he’s studying them, eyes soft. "You look good.”

Klaus quirks a brow, glancing down to their sock-clad, shoeless feet and mustard-stained sweatshirt.

"Healthy, I mean.” Dave clarifies. 

Klaus hums, fiddling with the 90-day chip attached to their beaded bracelet with a stolen piece of dental floss. For a man with abs like a brick wall, Dave is probably the softest person Klaus has ever met.  

“I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

It’s a question, Klaus thinks, so they answer: “Rehab.”

Dave smiles warmly, but his eyebrows pinch together in concern. “How’s your head?” 

Klaus shrugs, "Haven't had any complaints.”

Dave cracks an open-mouthed smile. “You gonna sit down?”

“Well,” Klaus tilts their head coyly, making a big show of the effort, then plops down hip-to-hip with Dave. “If you insist.” Their smile is genuine, but their body is so overwhelmed with nerves that they have to squeeze their hands to keep them from shaking. That’s the thing about sobriety, you actually have to feel everything that drugs usually numb out.

Dave offers his hand out instinctively, and without thought. Klaus takes it in their own. They shape their body against Dave’s, their head tucking gently against his shoulder. For a moment, Klaus is sure he will just keep reading, things will pick up as if they hadn’t ever stopped. 

Instead, Dave gently places the book on his pillow. Then, reassigns his now-free hand to tuck a stray curl out of Klaus’ face. Dave kisses the top of their head, gently, like they’re precious goods. They finally exhale.

I missed this. Klaus wants to say. I missed you.

“I missed you.” Dave says, and breathes out as shaky as Klaus feels, “I’m glad you’re home.”

It’s a weird thing to say considering Klaus doesn’t have a home, and neither does Dave. But then, they think, maybe they do. 

Maybe it’s here. 

4: 2016, July.

Most people have ghosts. Dave doesn’t. He just has kind eyes, and big hands, and that smile .

“So, what brings you to the park, Dave ?” Klaus is nonchalant, stretching out their limbs like they’re a cat in a sunlit window, not a skinny junkie on a public park bench. They look at him over the rim of bright-pink sunglasses. The frames of which are so small they can’t possibly be doing the job they’re intended for. Unless, of course, the job they’re intended for is accessorising Klaus’ outfit.

Dave can’t help but smile at them. He holds up a takeaway container in answer, and places it on the length of bench beside Klaus. Klaus raises a brow. They point a finger at themself as if to ask, for me?

Dave nods, yes.

“You spoil me, David.”

Klaus has a flair for stretching out sentences in ways that makes Dave wonder whether or not they are entirely serious. The small smile playing on their lips as they crack open the container is pretty clear as far as reactions go, though.

1: 2016, April.

Dave Katz is a simple man. He values kindness, honesty and strength of character. As someone who is queer and homeless, he also has a fairly substantial distrust of law enforcement.

This is why—when a twig of a man, with kohl-lined eyes and a vibrant pair of purple tights, sprints across the alley-way he’s seated in, skids to a halt at the corner of a dumpster, and balls himself tightly out of view from the street—Dave doesn’t make a move to flag down confused-looking uniformed officers that follow him into the mouth of the alley.

It’s also why—when said officers approach him, and ask him if he’s seen anyone come by—he takes one look at the man’s pleading eyes and shakes his head mournfully. “No, sorry officers.”

One of the cops runs a hand down his face exasperatedly, and the two share a look. As they head back the way they came, Dave can hear the other mutter: “This junkie , man.”

The man in question is still a little on guard when Dave turns his gaze back onto him. His hair sticks up in all directions, and his grin is manic as he offers Dave a wild-eyed reply of: “Thanks.”

Dave smiles warmly, if a little discombobulated, over his can of chilli. “It’s okay.” 

Eventually, the man uncurls, and props his torso upright against the building behind him. He lets some of the tension drain from his body with a sigh. Though, he’s still slightly twitchy, even as the panic of the police chase seems to wear off. He’s staring directly at Dave in a way he finds a little unnerving. 

Between mouthfuls, Dave gestures at the dirty soles of the man’s feet, which are now stretched out in front of him. “You know,” He starts, voice light and even, trying to break the ice a little— offer this man some friendly conversation. “you really shouldn’t run around New York with no shoes on, that’s a good way to get Tetanus.”

Klaus fidgets with a loose thread on his tights. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Dave nods solemnly.

Klaus looks at him more closely, then, squinting his eyes, looking for something in Dave’s expression. Dave just smiles. The man abandons the thread he’d been picking at as if Dave is suddenly more interesting. “Towing the company line, then?” He asks, and Dave could almost feel like he’s earned this guy’s full attention if it weren’t for him persistently itching at the crook of his elbow.

“Huh?” 

“You know,” Klaus eyes Dave’s trainers conspiratorially. Their lips spread around a sly smile. “Do you work for Big Nike?” 

Dave blushes into his can of beans, realising he’s being made fun of. “Oh.” His lips part in a soft laugh. “No.”

Sounds of cars passing, and distant chatter fills up the silence that lingers between them. They share twin smiles. Rather awkwardly, Dave scrapes the plastic of his utensil against what’s left in his can, “So, why are you on the lamb?” He offers.

It’s Klaus’ turn to look confused. 

Dave gestures vaguely at the mouth of the alley with his spork.

“Oh,” Klaus smiles in understanding, “I talk to dead people.” He says, matter-of-factly, as if that explains the scene he just caused.

“Do you?” Dave raises a brow sceptically. It’s hard to tell if he’s joking.

“Mmmm.” Klaus hums distractedly, chewing on one of his thumb nails. He gives a pointed look to some empty space atop the dumpster and smiles sardonically. “Try as I might not to.”

Dave furrows his brow, mulling over the new information.  “I gotta be honest, I don’t really know how to respond to that.”

Klaus snorts, the sound giving way to an amused sigh: “Yeah.” They laugh. “Yeah, me neither.”

Chapter Text

2: 2016, May

Dave doesn’t have any family in the city, and he definitely doesn’t have any family he’d feel comfortable going back home for. However, some of the people he’s served with are close enough to make do.

Marie is one of those people.

She was a field medic during Dave’s tour. She saved his life in the thick of it, and she continues to save his life every time she lends him a hot shower, or invites him to dinner with her kids for a home-cooked meal.

Dave tries not to take too much from her. He knows she struggles to make ends meet, and he’s hardly equipped to give much more than a hand in babysitting. 

All things considered, they don’t really have that much in common. They haven’t actually known each other that long, either. She was there for him in the days immediately following his injury, though. Back then, he still struggled with talking in full sentences. He was lonely, and confined to a bed, and every half an hour lunch Marie took at his bedside felt like a lifeline.

Dave doesn’t often open himself up enough to let people take care of him. He supposes, once you’ve seen someone in that harrowing of a state, it’s only natural to want to keep in touch. 

Dave’s doing a lot better now, relatively speaking. He even breathes easy most of the time.

It’s lonely being him, though. Marie does all she can to take the hard edges off of that. In fact, they talk pretty regularly, to no event.

So, when he’s on the phone with her at a diner at 2pm, making dinner plans, and trying to wait out the muggy New York heat before going back outside, the man from the alley-way sliding into his diner booth with a wide smile and stealing one of his fries is the last thing he expects. 

“You’re… um…” Dave sputters, phone still pressed to his ear. He’s struck with the realisation that he doesn’t actually know the man’s name. 

“Klaus.” Klaus offers helpfully, folding his sunglasses and tucking them into his shirt collar. “And you’re…?”

“Dave.”

“Dave.” Klaus repeats, sounding out his name around a coy smile. “So here’s the thing, Dave . I’m in a bit of a pickle, I’m hoping you can help me out.”

Dave’s lips bubble around words not yet formed. “Uh,” He says intelligently, eyes locked on the man's wide, dilated eyes. Distantly, he hears Marie’s disembodied voice call “ Dave? You still there? ”. Theoretically, he supposes the answer to that is yes. Since he can still hear her and he hasn’t actually gone anywhere. In practice, though, he feels like his attention has been pulled so dramatically from him that he can’t even remember what they were just talking about. Eventually, he manages: “Marie, can I, uh, call you back?”

Klaus brightens.

Dave closes his phone.

“A lover?” Klaus suggests, his eyebrow quirked curiously.

Dave tenses his mouth uncomfortably at the thought.

“Oof. Forget I asked.” Klaus tears open a sugar packet, and brazenly fingers a heaping from it into his mouth. An awkward few beats pass as Klaus sucks on his finger, dazed and seemingly unaware that he’d come over with any intention in mind at all. 

“You wanted help?” Dave redirects. Though it’s clear he’s a little dumbfounded, the words aren’t unkind. 

“Mmm.” Klaus removes his finger from his mouth, pointing it towards Dave as if he’s made an excellent point. “You see, Dave . My brother, pesky little tortured soul that he is, has an--admittedly founded--hero complex. It’s really endearing, actually. The big lug finds me in all sorts of sticky situations and lends a helping hand. Beats up greedy pimps and the like. He’s a real do-gooder.”

Klaus pauses briefly, gaging Dave’s susceptibility to his nonsense. Dave just blinks at him dumbly, not quite sure how to respond. Before he can think of anything useful to say,  Klaus has started speaking again.

“Anyhoo. The buck’s not too impressed with me at the moment. Because, well... I may have ‘stolen from him’ and ‘betrayed his trust.’ But it really sounds much worse than it is when you take it out of context. I mean, I didn’t know it was an important knife. He has dozens of them. And anyway, who gives a $300 anniversary gift at 24, right?”

“Right.” Dave says slowly, though it’s clear from his expression it’s less of an agreement and more of a question about what this all has to do with him.

“Right! Exactly.” Klaus agrees with vigor, as he reaches blindly for a second fingerful of raw sugar.  “I knew you would get it. Didn’t I, Ben?”

“Ben?” Dave asks, feeling a little lost.

Klaus pops his finger from his mouth a second time. “Dead brother.” He clarifies, waving a hand dismissively as he reaches for even more sugar from the packet. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Sorry, I’m not following. What do you want me to do?”

“Oh. Yeah, right.” Klaus says, as if just remembering that he came over with an intention in mind. He flashes Dave a somewhat bashful smile. His teeth poke out from between his lips in a way that reminds Dave of storybook analogies of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Can I borrow your phone?”

“Huh?”

“My brother. He’s out on the street.” Klaus wiggles his finger vaguely over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around and point him out more specifically. “See the brooding S&M model outside the pawn shop across the road.”

Dave chances a look over Klaus’ shoulder. Sure enough, a guy dressed head-to-toe in black is bouncing his leg on a street bench across the road. His hands fiddle with something that glints in the sunlight. It’s hard to make out specific facial features. Especially since Dave scratched his glasses at the shelter two nights ago, and hasn’t had a chance to buy new ones. He certainly doesn’t look happy, though. 

Dave furrows his brow, confusion reading over his face. Klaus doesn’t seem to catch it, though, because he powers on: “I’m pretty sure he won’t stab me, but all things considered I’d rather avoid the lecture.” Klaus props up his head with his elbows on the sticky surface of the diner table, and turns to look more directly at Dave. He sighs emphatically to punctuate his sentence, finally seeming to be talking to Dave instead of at him. “Trust me. It’s better safe than sorry in my family.” 

“Oh.” Dave says, because he doesn’t think more information could possibly help him better understand what’s going on. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Klaus repeats, smiling softly.  “So I can borrow your phone?”

Usually, in situations like these (if such a thing exists)  Dave would offer out change for a phone booth. 

He tries his best to help where he can. After all, he knows firsthand how challenging it can be to claw yourself out of the vice grip of poverty while struggling with mental illness. However community-minded he is, though, living on the streets has taught him not to trust people at the expense of his own lifeline.  

So, he’s not sure what, exactly, compels him to say: “Yeah.”  

“Thanks David,” Klaus flashes him a brilliant smile,  “You’re a gem.”

Dave nods politely as Klaus reaches for his phone. “No problem.”

-

When 15 minutes pass and Klaus hasn’t returned from the bathroom, Dave thinks there might be a problem. 

He relies on his phone to be able to get to work, to access support services, to keep himself safe. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Klaus has run off with it.

He fiddles with his hands for a few minutes, trying his best to give this guy the benefit of the doubt. He doesn’t hold out a huge amount of hope, but it’d be nice to not feel remarkably stupid for trusting a stranger with his most valuable posession. The longer he waits, the longer he can go without confronting that feeling. Eventually, though, the need to know whether he’s lost his phone wins out. So, he takes a steadying breath and decides to investigate.

-

The door to the men’s room is propped open with an abused wooden doorstop. Through the door-frame, lies an easy view of recently-mopped beige tiles, and a stocked cleaning trolley. There doesn’t seem to be anybody in the stalls, though.

“Klaus?” Dave calls out tentatively.

For a moment, he’s met with nothing but ambient diner sounds. Until a loud scuffling sound carries through the wall of the adjacent bathroom. Dave finds himself pinching his brows together trying to figure out what could possibly be happening on the other side.

He backtracks, and peaks his head back out into the hallway. The sign on the door indicates a single stall disabled bathroom. The green text peeking out from underneath the door handle suggests that it's not occupied.

He raps lightly on the door, only to be met with a loud crashing sound.

 “Klaus?” He tries again.

“Mmm?” A vague hum emanates from the unlocked door in reply.

“You okay in there?”

“Oh. Peaches and cream, Dave. How are you?” 

A little caught off guard by the question, Dave offers out a stilted reply of: “Uh, Good.” An awkward beat passes. “Can I--” He starts, stops. “I mean, are you finished?”

“Not quite. But hey, three’s company, right?.”

Dave tries his best to puzzle that out into an appropriate response but all he comes out with is: “I’m coming in, okay?”

Klaus’ mumbled reply of “Sitting on the edge of my seat.” paints a fairly accurate picture of what Dave sees next.

Klaus has one leg contorted uncomfortably through the tiny ventilation window at the top of the bathroom. His fingers are gripped white to its cramped frame, precariously holding up his weight. Just how, exactly, he’d thought he was going to fit through it is unclear.

Below the window, the wall-mounted paper towel dispenser hangs open, and Klaus’ other leg dangles around beside it, struggling to find purchase on the wall.

Dave turns his gaze towards the floor, where the bathroom bin is turned on its side. The plastic at its rim is cracked and splitting down the middle. Paper towel, both used and new, spills out artfully over the tiles. 

Stupendously, Dave asks: “Do you need some help?”

Klaus tilts his head backward so that he’s looking at Dave upside-down and smiles gently. He’s rather poised for someone who looks about ten seconds from cracking his skull open on cheap ceramic tiles.  “If you would be so kind.”

Dave crosses the bathroom to meet Klaus where he hangs. His prior mission is all-but stunned out of him. Carefully, he rights the toppled bin and pushes it off to the side so that it no longer obstructs the ground beneath them. Then, with the reluctance of someone playing Tetris for the very first time, he slides his hands under Klaus’ armpits. He’s not quite sure it’s structurally sound, but it’s the best he can do.

As Dave supports his upper-body, Klaus attempts to wriggle his thigh loose. As soon as he manages to un-wedge it, though, the whole of Klaus’ body weight comes sinking into Dave. It’s only narrowly that they miss falling starkly onto the floor and likely breaking one of their bones.

Regardless of the kerfuffle, the minute Klaus is on his own two feet, he turns his attention back toward Dave and courtesies in thanks. 

A beat passes.

Plainly, Dave asks: “Were you trying to steal my phone?” 

“Noo.” Klaus scoffs, drawing out the word in mock offence. “Just enjoying the view.”

“Right.” Dave cocks a brow at him, disbelieving, but smiles nonetheless. “Any chance I can get it back, then?”

Klaus turns a suggestive eye toward the nokia-sized bulge in his pants, only to halt it abruptly and cast a petulant glare at the empty air beside him.

Eventually, to Dave’s relief, Klaus stuffs his fingers into his pleather micro-pocket and wriggles around in it until he unearths the phone in question. He holds it up triumphantly, meeting Dave’s gaze with a broad smile. As he hands it back over, his fingers wrap briefly around Dave’s. “Thanks for letting me call my bro.” He says genuinely, offering Dave an encouraging pat on the arm. “See ya round, David.” 

Before Dave can get the words out of his mouth to reply, Klaus has left.

Chapter Text

2.5: 2016, May

► [11.12] KLAUS!!!!!!!
► [11.12] THIS ISNT FUNNY
► [11.14] IM ON THE STREETS EVERY NIGHT MAN ILL FIND U

Dave leaves his last encounter with Klaus with a series of frustrated texts from an unknown number—Presumably, Dave thinks, Klaus’ brother. 

► [14.04] srsly dude
► [14.06] ur little chicken legs cant outrun me forever

They’re increasingly concerning as the day goes on, and Dave isn’t entirely sure what to do about them.

► [20.23] location by midnight or i’m dropping ur waffles in a dirty mop bucket and next time u end up on my couch u r eating raw eggs or tomato soup for breakfast

After much deliberation, he decides to defuse the situation with a reply:

← [21.02] Sorry man. This isn’t Klaus’ phone. He just borrowed it.

Klaus’ brother, it seems, has other ideas.

► [02.00] ?????
► [02.04] who is this and how do you know my brother…

← [08.07] I don’t. Know him, I mean. Not really. We just ran into each other and he asked to borrow my phone.

► [10.07] and you let him?

← [10.08] Yes…?

► [10.10] are u stupid or something

← [10.12] Maybe? A little. He did give it back in the end, y’know.

► [10.12] a likely story

← [10.13] What does that mean?

► [10.23] im Very good at throwing knives

← [10.30] …Congratulations?

3: 2016, May

Dave is half-way through a re-read of Dune. He’s cross-legged on a park bench, captivated to the point where he’s not paying any mind to his surroundings. The thin cotton material of his shirt is stretched around the hunch of his shoulders and his face disappears in between the pages. 

Abruptly, a shadow looms over him, eclipsing the hot afternoon sun.

“I’m not stalking you.” The shadow defends.

When Dave looks up he is met with an eyeful of Klaus: hair a little longer, cheeks a little pinker, and tank-top a little more rhine-stoned. 

On their own accord, his lips flit in a fond smile. Deftly, he shuts the book around a piece of crinkled-up receipt paper, smoothing it out as he goes.  “Is that so?” 

Klaus nods solemnly, drawing a cross over his heart .

A beat passes. Dave squints one eye closed as Klaus shuffles in-place, and bright sunlight streams unfiltered over his shoulder. 

“Your brother’s been texting me.” Dave says conversationally.

Klaus lifts a sceptical brow, fiddling with something unseen in his cardigan pocket. “You two hit it off?”

Dave shakes his head.

Fruitfully, Klaus’ hand emerges from his pocket, a cigarette and lighter in tow. He puts the former to his lips, lights it and takes a drag.

 Dave adds: “He mostly sends threats.”

 Klaus smiles wistfully. “That does sound like Diego.” 

“I told him it’s not your phone. I’m not sure he believes me, though.”

Klaus tsks. “See that’s the trouble with fibbing…” Klaus trails off, only to continue half a second later with a renewed vigour. “ David . Do it too often and people will never believe you when you tell the truth. Y’know, boy who cried wolf and all that.”

Dave eyes him curiously. “Is that what you do?”

Klaus holds his gaze but doesn’t react visibly to the question, just lets a slow breath of smoke out as he exhales. It smells awful. The uninterrupted eye contact makes something squirm in Dave’s chest, he feels naked. 

“Cry wolf?” He clarifies. If for nothing else than to end the silence. 

Klaus considers this. “Well… Historically, I am the wolf.”

Dave frowns, confused.

Klaus grins indiscernibly, something wicked in his eyes. 

Not quite sure what to do with that. Dave opts for the safest option: changing the topic.

“I think I’ve seen you here before, once.”

“Oh?”

Dave nods.

A child on the nearby playground squeals, and the sound of it cuts through the quiet.

“You should’ve come said hi.” Klaus smiles, teeth poking out between his lips.  “I don’t bite.” Then, thinking better of the statement, he corrects: “Well, not for free, anyway.”

“I like your hair.” Dave says nonsensically. 

Klaus’ lips fold in the softest smile Dave’s seen from him. His eyes crease around the corners with the warmth of it. “Thanks.” He drops the cigarette, and stubs it out under his shoe. Then, he fiddles around his pocket for another.

“Those will kill you, you know.”

Klaus’ grin turns wicked at that, as if Dave has just made the most tongue-in-cheek joke of the century. 

Dave can’t help it, he smiles back.

5: 2016, June.

Dave works at the library. Three shifts a week, to be exact. Klaus knows this because they pop by every now and then when they can pass for sober, mostly to keep out of brutal weather, but also so that Ben can read. 

Dave usually shoots them a warm smile, and a “Hi Klaus.” but typically doesn’t bother them much beyond that.

This is why Klaus nearly jumps out of their skin when he pops up behind them and asks: “What are you reading?”

“Oh… uh.” Klaus clumsily flips over the book to read the cover, much to Ben’s annoyance. “--Hey, I was reading that.”

Klaus swats him away like an annoying fly, only for his hands to ghost through, and send an uncomfortable prickling sensation through their arm. They cringe at the unpleasant tactile experience. It’s like sticking your hand through a very cold non-corporeal cactus.

Dave quirks a brow, but doesn’t ask.

“Little women,” Klaus smiles faux-shyly.

Dave hums thoughtfully, then asks: “You read it before?” 

“Oh yeah, tonnes. Can’t beat those women. They’re very.... Little.”

 “Little ?” Ben scrutinises.

“You?” Klaus jumps in, before Ben can open his big fat mouth and mess up their concentration.

“Have I read Little Women?” Dave clarifies.

“No,” Klaus waves off the idea as if the very notion of him asking is a huge leap. “What are you reading?”

“What am I reading?” Dave blinks, looking a little caught off guard.

“Yuh-huh.”

“Oh, uh,” He ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck nervously. “It’s not any good.”

This immediately perks Klaus’ interest. He twists his body around to face Dave fully,  the book forgotten beside him.  Then, leans forward onto the seat back, into Dave’s bubble of personal space. His smile is wide and wicked as he comments:  “Y’know a lot of people consider me, myself, a guilty pleasure.”

“Oh?” Dave flushes noticeably pink, suddenly finding the plastic corner of the protective book cover he’s holding very interesting.

“Yeah. Certified freak, babe.”

A beat passes. Dave chances eye contact. Then, inexplicably, he blurts out: “It’s bigfoot erotica.”

Klaus puffs out his cheeks, eyes going wide with delight. “Talk about an obscure kink.”

“It’s not--” If Dave was blushing before, he’s reset the scale after that comment. His cheeks frame his embarrassed smile, visibly hot. Even his ears are red. “You ever read something so bad it’s kind of good?”

Klaus thinks back to last year, when he stumbled across a copy of ‘Extraordinary: My Life As Number Seven’   at the library of a low budget rehab Diego had managed to swing for him. Flicking through pages with a morbid fascination and surmising the thoughts left out. That’s probably not what Dave means, though. “Maybe once or twice,”

“Well, then you know.” Dave’s smile starts small, as he details the protagonists: Mary and Lanette, two thirty-something divorceés, who’ve sworn off men forever. “It’s basically about these two middle-aged women who suddenly realise how unfair society’s gendered expectations are, abandon their straight lives, and go monster-fucking in the woods.” However, it stretches the length of his face as he continues on.“It’s got so much to say about gender and how it’s socialised. There’s this whole sub-plot about their husbands that deconstructs toxic masculinity in these kind of like… avant garde parallel masturbation scenes. Even though the bulk of it is pornographic, and kind of bizarre. It’s brilliant. So much incredibly rich commentary about relationships in such an unconventional package.” Dave pauses, if only to take a necessary breath. In Klaus' experience, he's generally a man of few words. This might be the most he's ever said in one go. “Me and Kendra, one of the librarians, have this running gag of picking strange books for each other to read and writing reviews for the staff picks wall.”

Dave gestures topically  to said wall, where a hodge-podge curation of novels jut out from wooden slats. Their individual shelves are underpinned with neon squares of paper, crammed with neatly-penned summaries and golden star sticker ratings.

Klaus inspects the wall, quirking an eyebrow at some of the titles: “Superman’s Secret?”

“My pick.” Dave smiles warmly, “We sort of had a theme this week.” 

If at all possible, after meeting the man a handful of times, Klaus thinks he could be in love.

“You’re a little peculiar, Dave. Anybody ever tell you that?”

“As a rule, no. I get nerd sometimes, though.”

“Ah. Well, that too.”

Dave and Klaus share twin smiles. Ben looks between them calculatedly. If he thought Klaus was capable of the emotion, he might think he seemed shy.

Chapter Text

16: 2017, October.

Luther can sprout on all he wants about civil responsibility, Diego is the one who knows what it actually means. Because while Luther is back at the academy living under their Father’s thumb, Diego is the one working for a living. Diego is the one saving people who actually need saving, and Diego is the one still looking out for Klaus.

Diego cranks down the window, and pushes out the car door. 

“Get in.” He barely looks at Klaus, torn between scanning him for injuries and being faced with the reality of them. That’s usually how these call-and-collect adventures start.

“Why Diego, my Knight in shining armor,” Klaus clutches his heart, his speech slurring with the strange airy quality it takes whenever he’s high. His converse scuffle against the concrete as he stumbles over the curve. He grins at Diego from the passenger seat.

“Boyfriend give you that shiner?” Diego asks, grip tight on the steering wheel.

Klaus glares at him. “Boyfriend give you that shiner?” He mimics, voice faux-deep as he digs around in his pocket for a stick of laced-gum, “ Just drive, asshole.”

Klaus flinches when Diego reaches over the console to turn up the heating, and that’s enough of an answer.

—

Diego wakes up at 4am to street light peeking through his bedroom window and Klaus quietly hyperventilating on his couch. Not exactly an unusual occurrence. He has a hand clenched around his t-shirt, rubbing tiny circles over his heart. His eyes are squeezed shut tight and he's making small, wounded sounds between broken breaths.

“Klaus?” Diego rasps, voice heavy with sleep.

Klaus blinks, trying to focus on the voice, but struggling around the need to breathe.

Diego pads across the room quietly, and takes a seat on the coffee table across from Klaus. “Klaus.” 

Klaus’ eyes focus on something behind Diego. The woman there chokes around her breath. Her eyes are wide, and panicked as she scrambles to pull hands off her neck that aren’t there. “ Help,” She croaks.

Klaus’ hands fist in his hair. He screws his eyes shut tighter. “I can’t. ” His voice trembles, barely a whimper. The sensation of cold cement creeps underneath him, presses starkly to his back. “ Fuck,” His body curls into itself, heels of his palms pressed into his eyes. Klaus rolls his lips inward and bites down on them until they start to turn white.

“Please , he’s gonna kill me!” She’s crying, she’s terrified. I can’t , Klaus thinks, I can’t, I’m sorry. I can’t help you, you’re dead. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Wheezing, Klaus presses his hands to his ears, trying his best to block out the sound. It won’t work. It never does. 

“Klaus,” Diego tries again, voice soft.

“Mmm?” Klaus looks at Diego. His lips still pursed under his teeth, his hands pressed white to his ears. His chest aches.

“You need to breathe, Klaus.” Despite the wide-eyed concern, Diego’s voice is even; calm. “Can you breathe with me?”

Klaus doesn’t nod, but he’s at least focused on Diego now. So Diego will take his wins where he can get them.

As Diego mimes taking a deep breath in, Klaus tries to follow along. The air hiccups in his throat and sputters back out in sharp bursts. His hyperventilating gets louder, and Klaus hands copy the ghost in the corner of the room, instinctively grabbing for his neck.

“Pl—se,” She flickers in and out of existence like a light with faulty wiring. Her begging is cut with static, words disjointed as Klaus’ high runs dry. Her brows pinch in confusion as they lock eyes. 

“Hey, Klaus. Eyes on me.” Klaus’ eyes snap forward, frenetic and dizzy. “Try again.” Diego, obscured by the fuzzy spots in Klaus’ vision, repeats the action: a deep, exaggerated breath in. A squeeze of his fist to indicate hold , and a slow, tempered breath out. Klaus follows. “Good. Again.”

When Klaus’ breathing, still ragged and shaky, becomes slower and deeper, they chime in: “This doesn’t work.”

“Seems like it’s working fine.” Diego is one of the only people Klaus knows who can walk the line between curt and gentle like this. It’s a shame it’s usually overshadowed by his near-permanent impersonation of Oscar the Grouch.

Diego reaches forward to place his hand, steadying on Klaus’ knee, but as soon as he makes contact Klaus flinches violently. Their shoulders hike to their ears, and their breathing picks up again. 

Diego pulls back, and makes a show of putting up his hands very slowly for Klaus to see. “Hey, bro, it’s okay. No touching, see.”

“Sorry.” Their heart hammers away, but eventually the absence of touch seems to placate them. Their body un-tenses, just a little. “Your hands are cold.” 

Diego notices Klaus’ skin is raised, and despite how unusually still they are, their whole body seems to quiver. He switches tactics, his lips stretching around a playful smile. “Hey, do you remember when we were seven, and Luther knocked himself out on that ceiling support?”

Klaus’ lips bend with a small smile as a tear spills down their face. “ Yeah .”

“Rrr-remember the bruise looked like an egg on his head all week.”

Klaus laughs, a little pained, but genuine enough to ease some of Diego’s worry. “I called him uno-corn.”

Shakily, they press their thumbs into the corners of their eyes, wiping away the wetness that still brims there. They take a breath to gather themself. Their face is still puffy and red, they’re still leaking tears without their own say-so, but they know, in theory, it will pass.

“I bet he loved that,” Diego snorts, and his smile lingers. Klaus isn’t surprised by this. Gently bullying Luther is one of the top 3 sure-fire strategies they have for diffusing Diego’s anger. They fall back on it quite regularly when they’re manic from uppers and bugging the shit out of him. Figures it works for his mother-henning too.

“Mm.” Klaus hums their agreement, not trusting themself to speak more emphatically.

In their peripheral, they can see movement. The woman with stringy blonde hair folds her arms, hugging herself. Like a mirror, she trembles. Her face is dark with running mascara, and her nail beds are spotted white from malnutrition.

Klaus tries not to look directly at her.

Diego bends over in front of them, shuffling around under the table for something.

Klaus feels the ache in their chest begin to lessen. Reality takes a more solid shape around them. The exhaustion seeps in pretty quickly as the panic fades, but Klaus doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep anytime soon.

Diego emerges upright with a handful of Uno cards. He separates out a section for himself and Klaus. Then, unceremoniously, he flips the stack and pops the remainder on the table.

Clumsily with lack of sleep, Klaus takes the hand he is offered. He turns his head to share a knowing look with Ben. Unfortunately, the brother in question has his hood up. It casts a shadow over his face. Still in a mood, then.

He’s not been much help since Klaus last shot up.

Chapter Text

6: 2016, July.

“I got something for you.” Klaus carefully places a $10 note in Dave’s jacket pocket, patting it down twice for good measure. “It’s everything I have in the whole world.” They’re more or less sincere, despite the way they flop dramatically beside Dave against the brick wall. Then, they amend: “Well, everything besides these pants, but you can’t put a price on skin-tight leather.” Klaus winks, “Especially in my line of work.”

Dave picks out the note, and inspects it. When he finds nothing unusual about it, he eyes Klaus instead. “Don’t you need this to eat?” He asks, lips stretched in a quizzical smile.

Klaus waves a hand dismissively, “Pfft.”

Dave thinks, it should probably be more alarming, the way Klaus seems to brush off even basic necessities as if they are nothing but a passing blip on their radar. He can’t help but feel his chest warm at the gesture, though.

“I was probably gonna spend it on Heroin.” They explain. “Plus, I’m hoping now that I don’t have anything but the skin-tight leather on my ass, some kind stranger’ll take pity on me and buy me a coffee.” Klaus smiles impishly at him, brow raising in query. “Maybe a donut?”

“Are you manipulating me into going on a date with you?” 

“Depends.” Klaus answers coyly. “Is it working?”

Dave shakes his head fondly, but pulls Klaus up off the ground anyway.

7: 2016, July

Ben likes Dave. He hasn’t said so. He’s probably apprehensive considering the types of men Klaus usually attracts. Klaus can tell, though, because he smiles sometimes when Dave is being cute. Even if his eyes are trained on a random page of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, pretend-reading, Ben doesn’t fool Klaus. 

It’s only really note-worthy because Ben has never approved of any man that Klaus has been attached to, romantically or otherwise. Even Diego, who is one of the most important people in Ben’s own life, is subject to his scrutiny. The absence of his constant whining is practically a phantom limb in their day-to-day dialogue.

“You like him.” Klaus says, one day, as Dave walks into a laundromat and Klaus lingers on the street outside, still plotting the trajectory of his day.

Unwilling or unable to break gaze with the page in front of him, Ben holds a finger up uncomfortably close to Klaus’ face. Its just shy of smooshing against Klaus’ lips, conveying a sentiment that lands somewhere between ‘wait for me to finish this page’ and ‘sh’. He eyes the last few words intently, his thumb tucked under the page corner ready to turn it. 

Klaus rolls his eyes, sinking impatiently back into the window frame at the front of the laundromat.

Frankenstein is, ironically, Ben’s only non-tangible book. He’s read the thing cover-to-cover like 7 million times, it’s not like he doesn’t know what’s gonna happen. Still, he delights in torturing Klaus. 

Finally, finally, after what feels like forever, Ben shuts the book around a make-shift finger-bookmark.

He deadpans: “I don’t like him.” 

“Sure you do, you just don’t wanna admit it, in case,” Klaus pauses, sighing with an air of theatrical sorrow, “he turns out to be an asshole.”

“He’s not an asshole.” Ben defends, automatic. 

“Ha!” Klaus turns on his heel, snapping out his pointer finger in a gotcha! motion.

Ben’s lips tense, fighting off a smile. He looks down at his nail beds, as if not looking at Klaus will quiet the self-satisfied look on his face. 

Klaus seems content to relish in being right for once.

Dave hasn’t made a move on them yet. That’s probably why Ben likes him. Or, maybe it’s because he’s a book nerd. Ben probably loves that. It’s weird. Not the book nerd thing, the other part. They talk to Dave on a semi-regular basis, hold hands like they’re in middle school (not that he went to one), but they haven’t even kissed.

Are they friends? Is this what having a non-familial friend is like? Klaus is hardly an expert. What, with the celebrity child superhero misadventures and complete isolation from children his own age, bar six atypical possibly-alien siblings. Not to mention the cold transition into hard drugs and teen-homelessness that swiftly followed. 

Dave is friendly, though. It would make sense if they were friends.

“What do you want to do today, David superfan?”

Ben gives Klaus this sort of blank, dumbstruck look.

Klaus mouths around the straw of his 7/11 slushy as he awaits Ben’s reply. When he doesn’t get one, his brows scrunch together, underscored by an obnoxiously loud slurp. “What?” He says through the dregs of his slushy still melting in his mouth.

“You never ask me that.”

“What? Yes I do.”

“No.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Ben’s smirk gets impossibly big. He shakes his head back and forth. There’s a glint in his eye like he knows something Klaus doesn’t.

“What?”

Ben pushes himself off the laundromat window, and struts, all self-satisfied, down the street.

“Bennnnnnnnn-uhh!”

Like the asshole that he is, Ben tsks. His hips shake with his suspiciously unburdened swagger.

Klaus launches his straw, all chewed up and wet with pink slushy, straight through Ben’s intangible form. “Shit stain!”

A few people on the sidewalk quickly put space between themselves and Klaus. It's pretty standard fare. Though, the urgency with which they attempt to hurry along without meeting his eye-line, is perhaps a little heightened in this particular instance.

He grins broadly at them, waving a placating ta-ta as they pass.

Ben’s answering cackle bounces off the concrete of the sidewalk.