Chapter Text
Five shakes his head vehemently. “No. No. Absolutely not.”
“Come on, Five,” Luther says, his eyes wide and lips pressed together. His stance is wide and steady, like he’s prepared for a fight. He should be, with the bullshit he’s spouting. “All kids have to go to school. It’s the law.”
“I’m not a kid.”
Viktor and Luther are both settled in and have clearly prepared for this conversation. They’ll have agreed upon which debating points to make. Klaus was likely brought into the discussion as well, but he’s more likely to act as a rogue cannon.
“In the eyes of the law—”
“To hell with the government!”
“Whoo!” Klaus cheers from where he’s lying on the sole couch of the shitty apartment they all share, shaking a fist. “Fuck the government! Now, that—” he points to Five “—I can get behind.”
“Seriously, Klaus?” Viktor says, flat, giving Klaus a look. “Also, get your shoes off the couch,” he adds. “You’re getting mud all over it.”
Klaus sighs gustily but does as he’s told. “Well, all right then. If you’re going to be such a baby about it.”
Five can’t bring himself to be distracted by the new train of conversation. “I’m not going to fucking high school,” he snarls.
“Uhh…” Luther winces. “Technically speaking, you’re of middle school age—”
Five whirls on him. “What did you just say?”
Viktor’s eyes go wide, and he hurriedly shakes his head at Luther in warning. “No, no, Five. Luther wasn’t actually suggesting we’re going to send you to middle school.”
“Grumpy, retired Five in middle school?” Klaus snorts a laugh. “That I have to see.”
“We’re going to lie on the paperwork!” Luther says, too loud. “Don’t, uh, don’t worry. We’re not sending you to middle school.”
Five bares his teeth. “Good. Lie some more and make me eighteen.”
“I…don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Because you’re such a font of good decision-making.”
“Ooh, bur-unn,” Klaus says in a sing song.
Luther makes a huffy, irritated noise.
“Look, Five,” Viktor says. “You need to go to school.”
“I kinda wanna see what he does to the other kids,” Klaus thinks out loud.
Viktor’s expression shifts.
“Why would I willingly subject myself to four years of hell?” Five snaps. “I would rather cut out my own liver and eat it. Raw.”
Luther and Viktor share a look.
“You could probably do it in two,” Luther says, in a tone that makes it sound like this is some sort of concession on his part.
“Two years surrounded by sweaty, hormonal teenagers is my literal nightmare. Besides,” Five adds, “it’s not like any of you assholes ever went to high school.”
“Uh-uh.” Klaus holds a finger up. “Technically, I’ve sold drugs to high schoolers, on high school property. So there.”
“A universal experience, I’m sure,” Five deadpans.
Klaus shrugs, making a considering noise.
“Look,” Luther says. He looks tired. Good. “You need to graduate high school if you want to do pretty much anything in life. Most jobs, university, writing papers on all that,” he gestures vaguely, “physics, space-time stuff that you know.”
“That ‘space-time stuff’ is exactly why I’m not going back to high school,” Five says. He stuffs his hands in his pants’ pockets and takes a step forward, towards Luther. “I know more than all the teachers in an entire school combined. I have nothing to learn from them.”
“Then two years to graduate won’t be too difficult,” Viktor cuts in. “I mean, if you know everything already…”
“Ooh, he’s got you there,” Klaus says, grinning.
Five doesn’t bother to look at him. “Shut up.”
“Respect your elders, young one,” Klaus tells him in a mock-serious voice.
“You’re not helping,” Luther hisses at Klaus.
“Oh.” Klaus’ brow furrows. “Right. …Sorry.” He mimes zipping his lips shut and tossing away the key.
“You’re talking about sending me to high school when he—” Five points to Klaus. “—is right there?”
“Klaus isn’t down on government record as a minor,” Viktor says. “If we don’t make you go to school, CPS will come to investigate us, and then you’ll be taken away.”
“At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with all of you,” Five mutters.
“So you want to be put in a group home,” Luther says, “with a half a dozen children who you would not only be going to school with, but also living with.”
“I already live with half a dozen children! But,” Five concedes, “you make a good point.”
“Assuming CPS works the same here as it did in our world,” Klaus puts in. “Somehow, I can’t see our darling Father spending too much time on the child protective services when he sat down and created this world from scratch. Or rather,” he frowns, “tried to drain all our life forces, like he was Viktor or something.” At Viktor’s uncomfortable expression, Klaus says, “Sorry, bro, had to be said.”
“No, no, I get it. And I did do that stuff.”
“We’re getting off topic again,” Luther says. He looks to Five. “Come on, Five. You have to go to high school.”
Five sighs. Grimaces. Looks between his three siblings trying to convince to go to school of all places. Says, “Fine, but—”
Klaus cheers. Viktor lets out a breath and sags in relief. Luther’s face breaks out in a grin.
“—but, I’m setting some ground rules.”
“Of course you are,” Luther says under his breath.
“Someone better get me some paper and a pen.”
The inhabitants of apartment 2B are halfway through takeout for dinner – the twenty-fourth night in a row; they rarely bother to cook – when the door bangs open. Diego strides in like he lives here, rather than with his baby-mama-to-be down the block.
“I take it the plan was a success, then?” He drops into one of the two free dining table chairs; Ben has, once again, refused to eat dinner with them. “Five agreed?”
“No thanks to you,” Luther mutters around a mouthful of noodles.
“Gross, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Klaus tells him.
“Yes, the plan was a success,” Viktor says, answering Diego in a measured voice. “Five’s gonna go to high school.”
Diego turns to Five, a smile appearing on his face. “You know, you’re actually six months too young for high school.”
“I heard,” Five says through gritted teeth.
“You’re lucky we—”
“Tell me I’m lucky to be going to big boy school and I’ll take that knife—” Five indicates one of the knives hidden up Diego’s sleeve “—and stab you in the chest with it. Lila can raise your child by herself.”
Diego just laughs. “You gonna to be the one to explain to Lila why she’s a single mom?”
Voice dripping with sarcasm, Five says, “I think I can handle it.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Diego reaches for a takeout box, pushing the flaps out of the way to peer inside. “Thai? Again?”
“Hey, it’s nice,” Viktor says mildly. “And cheap.”
In a world where the only documentation they have is from Dad – meaning, no university degrees or drivers licenses, or anything beyond birth certificates and basic high school diplomas for all of them but Five – none of the Hargreeves have been able to get jobs paying much more than minimum wage. It doesn’t help that none of them are willing to work in a Hargreeves-owned company, which limits their options drastically.
“You know what would be cheaper?”
“Making your own food,” they all chorus in time with Diego. Viktor grins, while Klaus giggles.
“You know, you make fun,” Diego says, “but it’s healthier than all the shit they put in this to keep you coming back for more.”
“But the shit tastes so good,” Klaus says, a whine in his voice. He kicks the only empty dining chair, positioning it to rest his feet on. “Come on, Diego. Don’t tell me you actually like all those stupid lentils you eat.”
“Hey, I eat lentils,” Luther protests.
“Lentils are good for you,” Diego says.
“No one’s denying that,” Viktor says.
“I am!” Klaus holds up a hand. “I’m denying that.”
“Pussy,” Diego says.
Klaus makes cat noise, curling his fingers into claws.
“Really, Klaus?” Five says.
Klaus shrugs.
Viktor finishes his box of Thai, and looks to the one Diego’s holding. “Are you going to eat that, or…”
Diego rolls his eyes but hands the box over to Viktor, who tucks in.
“Come on, guys,” Diego says. “You should really eat healthier. We all need all the help we can get now we’ve lost our powers.”
The room goes quiet. Luther sets his takeout box down. Viktor looks away. Klaus’ lips press together, his mouth suddenly tight. Diego, for what it’s worth, seems to regret the words as soon as he’s said them.
Five snorts. “Way to lighten the mood.” He shoves his chair back. The legs scrape on the wooden floorboards, deafening in the sudden silence. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room.”
Two months ago he could have teleported away. Now, he has to walk the entire way across the living room-slash-dining room-slash-kitchen (god, he hates this open plan living; the only place that’s private is his tiny bedroom), footsteps echoing.
As he heads down the hall, he can hear Klaus musing, “I wouldn’t mind being a cat, you know.”
Five passes the Luther, Klaus, and Viktor’s bedrooms, before coming to his own. He’s opposite the bedroom door that is always shut, Sparrow Ben’s, and next to the bathroom. Nearly every night, he gets woken up by one of his brothers going to the toilet. He’s a light sleeper from decades spent in the apocalypse.
Finally he retreats into his room, and closes the door behind him. It shuts out most of the conversation in the main room. Blessed privacy. His room may be tiny – just a single bed, a chest of drawers that doubles as a desk, and shelves for all his books. Luther got him a whiteboard, so he doesn’t write on the walls again, else they’ll lose their deposit – but it’s his. The first place truly his own since he was a kid.
Five considers his bed for a moment, but instead chooses to search through the stack of papers next to his bed until he finds the one that he’s halfway through, on dimensions and alternate universes. The pages are covered in his own red pen markings; the author makes some incorrect assumptions about how time relates to space, but overall raises some interesting points.
Five fills the next several hours reading through the latest crop of scientific papers he’s found on the topic of dimensional travel, keeping an ear out for his siblings. One by one, they use the bathroom; slowly, their doors shut for the night. Finally, the front door closes and the lock clicks, and Five relaxes.
He heads back out into the main room with quiet steps, to find it empty. No one’s bothered to clear up the takeout, and Five isn’t about to, so he ignores the dining table and heads straight to the kitchen.
It’s small, with just two long countertops facing each other. The sink and stove are cramped up at one end, next to the narrow, smudged window that overlooks the alley next to their building. Five glances down, and sure enough, Diego is beating up some would-be muggers in the alley. Rolling his eyes, Five grabs the coffee bean jar and prepares a pot.
He’s got research to do. It’s going to be a long night.