Klaus hesitates to pull back from the hug, but he knows Diego's not exactly the snuggly, touchy type and he relents. But it's so good to see him and he presses his palms to either side of the man's face, laughing. "When did you get here? You should have told me you were coming!"
When they left, he'd made sure to leave his number with Diego, but hadn't quite expected him to take him up on it. A tough few weeks does not a family make, after all, as much as Klaus might have wished. But seeing Diego here and now, on the stoop of their house, feels both surreal and lovely all at once. It could be the lack of sleep talking, though, and he drops his hands from Diego's face.
He can't look away, can't deflect the man's question and he lets out a breath. Talking about it outside, in the open like this, feels a little strange. "Bad. But we can talk about that once you're inside and settled, it's absolutely boiling out here and I don't want to get an uneven tan, thank you very much. Come on, Mr. New York." He whines a little and tugs his hand. "Unless you've got somewhere to stay, but I'll go ahead and cancel those reservations anyway and put you up in the guest room here, whether you like it or not. How else can I sneak in and whisper to you at night, huh?"
He waggles his eyebrows, all goof air as he tugs the man again, urging him inside. The remnants of his and Claire's fashion show are all over the living room and foyer: boas, sparkling tutus, jewelry, gowns, heels. "It's..." he lets out a breath and turns to him again. "It's good to see you."
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When they left, he'd made sure to leave his number with Diego, but hadn't quite expected him to take him up on it. A tough few weeks does not a family make, after all, as much as Klaus might have wished. But seeing Diego here and now, on the stoop of their house, feels both surreal and lovely all at once. It could be the lack of sleep talking, though, and he drops his hands from Diego's face.
He can't look away, can't deflect the man's question and he lets out a breath. Talking about it outside, in the open like this, feels a little strange. "Bad. But we can talk about that once you're inside and settled, it's absolutely boiling out here and I don't want to get an uneven tan, thank you very much. Come on, Mr. New York." He whines a little and tugs his hand. "Unless you've got somewhere to stay, but I'll go ahead and cancel those reservations anyway and put you up in the guest room here, whether you like it or not. How else can I sneak in and whisper to you at night, huh?"
He waggles his eyebrows, all goof air as he tugs the man again, urging him inside. The remnants of his and Claire's fashion show are all over the living room and foyer: boas, sparkling tutus, jewelry, gowns, heels. "It's..." he lets out a breath and turns to him again. "It's good to see you."