Klaus has lived with them long enough, that quips like that are something he’s used to. Initially he hadn’t been sure how to respond to them, but now he finds himself noting the difference between his usual bounce to things and how his brother-in-law sounds now.
He doesn’t comment on it, though; instead, he offers the mug he had served for himself since he barely poured it.
“You might want to hold off on that proposal, Allison might be upset she missed it,” he jokes before moving to get another mug from the cabinet. He had made a full pot, doubting his ability to go back to sleep, so there’s definitely enough to go around.
At his question, Patrick glances up briefly before he looks down at the coffee as he pours it. He’s not wrong, this isn’t like him at all. Generally it’s Klaus and Allison wandering around at night, sometimes even Claire as if she fears she’s missing out on something and she just wants to be included, but whenever he’s awake at this hour it’s only because he’s getting ready to take a very early flight for a meeting or a business trip. Considering he’s working from home, not willing to leave them just yet, there is definitely no business trip to get ready for right now.
He shrugs, moving to sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Just couldn’t sleep.” It sounds so simple, as if he just couldn’t get comfortable. It sounds better than admitting that seeing Allison as shaken up as she was had rattled him, too. The only reason he’s not still next to her it’s because she’s out cold now thanks to the medication, and he needed to clear his head a little before he could be there.
“After all these years I guess I just wanted to see what I’ve been missing out on,” he continues with a small smile, continuing the banter at least for a moment longer.
He nods towards the fridge. “There’s some pizza in there, too, in case you want some.” He and Claire could only eat so much, after all, without the Hargreeves joining them.
Klaus wanders to the coffee pot, setting the old takeout box aside to pour himself a cup. It smells like some fancy roast, and he's not complaining. Patrick always had good taste, even if it took a year or so for Klaus to admit it.
But he knows the couldn't sleep line, having said it dozens of times over the last week or so himself. It's not any different now; when he closes his eyes at night he sees Dave, he sees the Apocalypse, he sees Vanya, he sees the blood down Allison's front, on the floor.
"If we must wait, I suppose I can contain myself," he sighs, all feigned drama as he digs around in one of the drawers for a fork. He should probably try and eat less like a heathen if he can, and he drags himself to another stool at the island, dragging it a little closer to Patrick. Klaus likes being near people, likes the closeness that this house has brought all of them over the years.
"But this is it, baby. Solitude, cold takeout, some coffee and some incredibly sexy company. The height of living, right here in your own kitchen." He grins around another mouthful of chicken, going quiet for a few moments before he sighs. "How is Claire? We saved the whole world but fucked up our own, so I guess that's the trade off, huh?" A shitty one, in fact. And while their family couldn't have done it without them, Klaus sometimes wonders if he and Allison shouldn't have packed up and left immediately following the funeral, after all.
Patrick finds himself smiling against his cup of coffee when Klaus drags his seat closer to him, relieved that at least that hasn’t changed. He’s trying to learn where things are different now, the variances from how things were before Allison got the call that Reginald Hargreeves had died to how they became after Allison and Klaus showed up afterwards, but he’s glad that Klaus’ need for proximity hasn’t changed. It had taken him a while to get used to it, to accept the other man into his house considering the circumstances of his arrival, but he has been family to him for years now. The moment he placed Claire in his arms after she was born had been the beginning of a new life for them all.
That’s why, things may be different now, but his concern for Klaus is almost the same as the concern he feels for his wife. That’s also why he feels guilt at letting them both go, at not insisting that they stay here considering neither has had anything good to say about their upbringing whenever it came up. He knows at the end of the day they were going to go no matter what, but this helplessness he feels at not knowing how to fix this for them is suffocating.
“She’s good,” he assures him with a small grin. “Turning the office into her own personal fort, so don’t be surprised if you’re suddenly missing a few pillows.” With Allison holed up in their room, her closet is off limits for dress up so Patrick has been trying to keep her distracted by essentially allowing the office to be Claire’s personal playground.
“I’m sorry things turned out so crappy,” he says after a moment. It feels like an understatement, but it’s sincere. “Neither of you deserve it. Was it always like this when you guys were younger? Saving the world but at your personal expense?”
“I cannot wait for her to be President and take over the world. We shall all live in a world of puppies, rainbows and excellent fashion. Not to mention subsist on a diet of gold fish- ah, only the red ones, though- and kool-aid for days. So a few pillows are a worthy price to pay for perfection.”
Klaus smiles at the thought, a warmth rising into his expression when he speaks about the little girl. Honestly, had it not been for Allison and Claire, he’s not sure where he would be now. But over time, Patrick has worked his way into that equation, and there’s something nice about sitting here with him in the kitchen. It keeps his head from spinning, keeps his mind from clouding over.
He sighs deeply. “Oh yes, we were daddy dearest’s little super powered trophies. We were good for nothing but saving the world and a means to practice his unending neglect and unfortunate parenting skills. But isn’t that the way with all parents?”
He laughs a little and drinks from his mug, downing at least half the cup in one sitting. “But we should have expected it to be a complete and utter shit show. Our family reunions are never going to be pretty. Why would they be?”
Patrick chuckles, because Klaus isn't wrong. Claire has the personality and the will to make the world bend at her whim, and he's so damn proud of that. The fact that Klaus emboldens his daughter to be the way she is is one of the many things he appreciates about his brother-in-law; he doubts their relationship would have flourished the way it had if Klaus didn't love his little girl the way that he does.
As he speaks, he stays silent, just listening. The way that Klaus and Allison had grown up is so far from his own upbringing, that for a moment he doesn't really know what to say. For so many years he hadn't understood it, especially since Allison was never really fond of talking about her childhood, but he'd notice the way that she seemed like fish out of water whenever they would go visit his family. How holidays seemed to be never-ending for her; how it was almost like she was playing the role of someone else rather than herself, just because family get-togethers with laughter, loud meals, and regular conversation seemed foreign to her.
If anything, knowing how they were raised and how they both treat and act with Claire - and have acted with her from the moment she was born - just makes him appreciates them more. And, it makes something uncomfortable settle in his chest at how they must have grown up, how they were treated.
"You know, when I proposed I was almost offended when she wouldn't call anyone to talk about our news." His voice is quiet, guilty as if Klaus' words confirm what Allison had told him back then. Not that he hadn't believed her, he just hadn't fully understood it, especially with how close he himself was with his family. Allison refusing to bring in her family on their proposal, their wedding, it felt like she was hiding something. He just never fully realized how big it all was until now, when the very real repercussions of it all are smacking him in the face.
"I don't think I ever got it before. I'm sure I still don't," he admits with a small huff, "but...this is home for both of you now." He reaches over to give his shoulder a small squeeze. "I've already told her, but I'll tell you, too - Claire and I are both so proud of you. Whatever happened, we'll figure it all out. You guys aren't alone."
He gives his shoulder a pat before he turns back to his cup of coffee. "And I don't expect the shit show years to start until Claire turns into a teenager and wants to date, so...you have a safe place here. Both of you do."
“Trust me, it’s better for everyone involved that none of our family attended your wedding. If the funeral was anythigng to go by, the world might have ended then instead.”
Klaus laughs, mirthless and tired at the thought. He remembers talkign to Allison late one night from a payphone, listening to the way she talked about Patrick and it was then that he knew she would never be coming back. Not really. He felt happy, then, for her. Happy that someone in the whole group managed to escape, get out and get a real life.
“She told me. To be fair I barely remember it, but she definitely told me.” He elbows Patrick and smiles sweetly. “But Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter... things like that didn’t happen there. Sure, we did our own little hurrahs but the most exciting thing we did was sneak out late at night for doughnuts one we figured out how to scam Dad’s surveillance system.”
He snorts, remember the way Five bolted around, the way Diego shattered lenses or covered up doorways to mask what they were doing. Sure, their father likely knew everything about every moment of their lives, but it was exciting back then. “We had a scheduled thirty minutes of personal time, and we were not to step outside of our poor little box. I did all the time, I’m sure that’s just impossible to imagine. So while we have brothers and a sister, I wouldn’t exactly say we had happy family traditions and memories. We were soliders, prim and proper. Or at least until I showed up to lessons in mom’s heels.”
He smirks and finishes off his coffee before he returns to the take out, stabbing a piece of chicken and stuffing it into his mouth. He turns at the hand on his shoulder and blinks over at Patrick, chewing thoughtfully while he observes the man.
“You know, when Allison brought me home? I thought you were going to kick me out when she was asleep. I mean, I would kick me out too for all the shit that I did, but she kept telling me how great you were. How kind you were. How you’d come around.” He pushes himself up to pour himself another cup of coffee, swiveling to top off Patrick’s cup as well.
“Frankly, this place- the two of you. Saved my life. Still are, and that’s quite a big debt to repay, so I’ll have to beg you to make the interest low, please and thank you.” He winks at the man as he turns away to replace the coffee pot.
Edited (im on an ipad plz forgive me) 2020-09-03 19:45 (UTC)
His features soften when Klaus shared that Allison had called him, and he’s glad for it.
As he listens to the rest, though, he isn’t sure what to think. He, alone with the rest of the world, had heard all about the Umbrella Academy. The way Reginald Hargreeves introduced them, how he was almost flippant when someone questioned if he was concerned about the well-being of the children. At the time, he hadn’t thought anything of it, especially at the age when everything was happening. Like any other kid, he had thought it was cool that kids like him were saving the world, but that had been the extent of it. Later on, when Vanya had released her book, details had come out but Allison had been so clammed up over it that he just hadn’t paid much attention to it.
Now... Patrick has never and will never meet his father-in-law, but he knows he’d punch the shit out of that man if he could.
“Oh don’t give me too much credit,” he admits with a small wince. “I considered it in the beginning. I wasn’t sure what to really expect. But you made it easy. And, you brought out a different side of Allison that I couldn’t ignore. You made her really happy by being here, so...I’m glad you gave us a chance. I’m glad you gave me a chance,” he clarifies with a smile.
He takes a sip of his coffee before he turns back to Klaus. “Is there anything you need, or anything I can do for you?” A beat. “Or anything that’s not helping?”
"I made it easy?" Klaus actually laughs a little too loudly, considering the time, and he claps a hand over his mouth, waiting to hear if little Claire or Allison stir somewhere deep within the house.
He leans his elbows on the island counter, setting the takeout down finally, to press his palms around the warm mug. His dog tags clank against the counter top and he shifts, as though even hitting the decadent marble is too much damage.
"You do realize I considered robbing both of you blind to go buy my next hit and fuck off into the sun, right? Especially those first few weeks. God, the withdrawal was awful. Not my best look, by far."
He sighs, looking down into the mug. "I'm fine. I'm just peachy. Can't sleep and might need to teach Claire about the wonders of soft, classical music instead of the crazy rock and roll shit for a while but hey, the sacrifices we make for advanced education. The words of our lord Mick Jagger ring true, one can't always get what they want."
He smiles at Patrick, a genuine smile tucked in amidst the drama. "I'll be fine. This isn't the worst thing I've been through. I had the first twenty years of my life for that, don't worry. I can help with Allison. Maybe not as well as you, but I can try. If you want me to."
His laugh makes Patrick laugh as well, but he manages to stifle it before he makes his same mistake. If the girls wake up or notice what's happening on this side of the house, there are no signs of it. Although he wouldn't put it past Claire to surprise them later, considering her propensity to want to join the grown ups in the middle of the night.
The sound of the dogtags make him pause as he raises the mug to his lips. He has noticed them since he came back, but this is the first time where it's just the two of them together for him to really notice. Did he have those before they left?
His admission that he considered robbing them makes him chuckle, though, making him forget of the question before he can think if he should ask it or not. Patrick did wonder about that, but obviously it hadn't changed anything at all between them. And Klaus hadn't done it, so he just shrugs slightly, because honestly it doesn't really matter at this point, does it.
Maybe one day they'll look at this and laugh just how they're doing now about those days. He just hopes it doesn't take another seven years for it.
"It's okay if you need some time, you know. Although, if you can teach Claire to like classical music, I'd greatly appreciate it."
He doesn't know all of what Klaus has gone through, or even what he has gone through now, but it's hard to imagine that this isn't the worst he has been through. He just doesn't want him to feel like he has to be okay if he isn't.
He huffs out a dry chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "Oh I don't know how much I'm helping. She's really struggling with this new normal."
"Let's just say that my days of heavy metal are long behind me," he laughs, a hint of unease in his voice. "But if I can get her to headbang to the momentous movements of Bach and Vivaldi, I deserve a medal."
Klaus smiles down into his coffee, turning the cup between his palms. Allison's probably made out the worst of the pair, even if she might not think so. Losing her ability to speak, no less when she's returning to a child?
"I'll see what I can do," he hums, thoughtful, tapping his fingers against his lips. "It's just going to take time, but I'm sure she'll come around. We all do, but what happened back there... well." He shakes his head and pushes up from his seat, tossing the takeout in the garbage can before he settles himself against the counter, leaning a hip against it.
"Daddy dearest seems to have given us the gift of life that just keeps giving us shit hands. When she's ready, we should see if she'll see a doctor. If she won't, I'll drag her there myself. It's only fair, after the hospitals she dragged me to, remember."
“If you get her to headbang to Bach and Vivaldi, I will personally make you that medal,” he assures him with a small laugh.
He nods slightly, thankful, when Klaus says he’ll give it a shot. It feels unfair to put that on him when he’s dealing with his own trauma, but he feels like he’s running out of options.
“How bad was it?”
The question is quiet, and while he had told himself when she had shown up looking pale and stitched up that the details ultimately didn’t matter because at least they were back, he still can’t help it as it slips past his lips.
He drinks the rest of his coffee and sighs as he sets the cup down. “I’ve tried, but she didn’t seem very convinced. I barely even managed to get her to take some painkillers tonight. So, hey, if you can coax her into it, that’d be great.”
"Our sister was the cause of the apocalypse. I'm sure you've read Vanya's brilliant expose on the trials and tribulations of the Umbrella Seven."
He flourishes a hand for dramatic effect and sighs. God, he could use a cigarette, but he's not quite willing to leave this conversation yet. "Turns out serious emotional repression can be a real drag when you have powers driven by your emotions. Or so I think that's how it works, I really don't know. But Allison was trying to save her." He frowns, gripping the counter top as he starts into the story. "Tried to rumor her, and the rest is history."
Klaus decides to leave out the details, the blood, and everything in between.
"But here we are," he says weakly, wiggling his fingers in a little jazz hands sort of move.
As much as Patrick tries to not react - it’s still their sister, after all - he finds himself frowning.
“Wait, powers? I thought she didn’t have any powers.”
And she had slit Allison’s throat? Somehow Patrick had figured it had been something else, someone else, but hearing that it had been their sister makes it worse. So, so much worse.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he says after a moment, when he can make his voice work. “Is Vanya okay? Everyone else?”
"Oh, right. Yeah, she's got powers. Turns out dear old dad used Allison to convince her that she was powerless after all. All because daddy was afraid."
The fact that Reginald feared something and chose to suppress it? It makes Klaus erupt into laughter, a little unhinged, perhaps. After all, what did his father do except throw him to the wolves when he admitted how afraid he was of the ghosts, the undead? To think that Reginald would take the easy way out?
"What a bastard," he sighs. "But yeah, Vanya went bananas, naturally, but Allison stopped her in the end. Now we're all on our way to being one great, big fucked up family, yay." He raises his fists and gives them a little cheering shake. "But it's for the best, I guess. Allison and I caught a plane back here as fast as we could, obviously."
He reaches to tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear, hands fishing for his mug afterward. "That place isn't good for any of us, but family's family I guess."
As much as a part of him regrets asking for details, for the most part he’s glad for it. It’s like he’s seeing missing pieces from the puzzle and, while it’s hard to know what’s going through Allison’s head right now especially since she can’t verbalize anything, this at least helps to put it together. He’ll never agree that Vanya had any right to hurt Allison the way she did, but maybe that’s just the bias in him.
Scrubbing a hand along his face, he sighs wearily before getting up for another refill of coffee and topping off Klaus’ mug as well. He needs to move, somehow staying still felt stifling for a moment.
“I’m really glad you guys came back as soon as you did.” Before anything else could happen. It could be argued that they could have probably waited a few days, considering Allison looked like she might faint by the time they landed as the last few days and almost dying caught up to her, but the selfish part of him is just glad they’re home now. Safe.
Or, well, as safe as they can be.
“If you need anything,” he says after a moment, leaning against the counter. “Anything at all. I hope you know I’m here. I’m not planning on going back to the office at least until...you know. She’s feeling somewhat better. So, really. Whatever you need.”
Klaus knows that they had almost come back sooner, and a part of him wishes they had. Allison wouldn't be the way she is, after all, but the world might have ended. It's a 50/50 deal, isn't it? Damned if you do, damned if you don't.
He smiles at the top-off of coffee, reaching one hand to brush fingers against Patrick's arm as the man moves around the kitchen.
"Oh I only need your eternal love and affection to soothe my aching, broken heart, Patrick, don't you know that?" He chuckles to himself and drinks from his mug again, humming contentedly at the warmth it provides. "I'll get her to a doctor, go back to work myself. The yogis of high Hollywood are a'calling after all. I think keeping busy will help. The sleeping, the urges, everything." His free hand absently rises to he dog tags, thumbing them, feeling the stamped ridges that press little David Katz indents into his skin.
By now Patrick is so used to Klaus’ comments that he just chuckles, shaking his head. He doesn’t mind them, though, especially now. It’s at least one thing that hasn’t changed, and he’s goddamned thankful for that.
“You should,” he agrees, turning to him and extending his hand so he can take back his cup of coffee.
“Why don’t you go to sleep in my room? God knows I won’t be sleeping any time soon, and I have some things to catch up on, anyway. I think Allison could use your company as much as you could probably use hers.”
Klaus turns away from Patrick's extended hand with mock offense on his face as he takes a few final sips of the coffee. He probably shouldn't be drinking it at all, it's bound to keep him up longer, but there's something comforting in the rush of the caffeine and warmth.
"You should sleep, too, mind you," he huffs and finally relinquishes the cup. Only when Patrick is on the move again does Klaus push away from the counter. He curls his arms around Patrick's waist from behind and presses his cheek against the man's shoulder. "But until then, you are a saint among men, a gentleman and a scholar. Thanks."
He grins and releases him, skirting past the man with a little wiggle-wave of his fingers. He stretches his arms high over his head as he steps into the hallway, pausing to looking back at the man. "We'll have the old Allison back before you know it." He smiles still, but there's an edge to it, a sadness, an understanding. "See you in the morning."
He might just go lay down in Claire’s bed, whether or not he’s tired. At least having his daughter close, watching her sleep, will help calm everything that’s rattling around in his brain.
The hug makes Patrick smile fondly, and while he can’t exactly return it, he pats his arm before moving to the sink to rinse the mugs as Klaus resumes his walk out of the kitchen. At his words about getting the old Allison back, he turns back to Klaus, a small smile of his own pulls at his lips but it’s not very convincing. He isn’t sure anymore if the old Allison is really trapped in there, like how her voice is, and just can’t find her way back anymore or if what happened has flipped everything. It’s probably too early to tell, but the murkiness of it all makes it hard to really even think this could be just temporary.
He doesn’t say that, though. He just nods as if he believes it, and in appreciation for Klaus. In gratefulness for the fact that he’s here, that he’s not fighting him on going to lay down with Allison because at least that feels normal.
“See you in the morning,” he echoes before turning back to finish cleaning up, letting himself get lost in the silence of the house.
Klaus gives a little wave in Patrick's direction, "See you. Don't stay up too late, mister. If the adoring fans see us both with bags under our eyes, whatever will they think?"
He pads down the hall, pausing to peek in at Claire, who should be sound asleep. She isn't, and when he pokes his head into her room she peers up at him, giving a sleepy wave. "Ohhh, someone's in trouble. They woke the princess from her beauty sleep." And he sneaks in to kiss her forehead, listens to her mumble something sleepily incoherent, before he all but bundles her up into her blankets. (She often brags about how Klaus is the best 'tucker-inner' in the house).
Once he's sure the little one is tucked safely into her bed and asleep, he turns back to the hall and slips into Patrick and Allison's bedroom. He doesn't bother shucking off his jeans, instead just sliding into the warm, empty space beside his sister. He's been in this spot before, in days long past when nightmares kept him up and the shakes prevented anything else.
So he's careful and quiet when he sinks his weight into the bed and tucks himself away under the covers. He doesn't expect to fall asleep as quickly as he does, but exhaustion finally takes its toll. He drifts off. At some point in his sleep he shifts, tossing and turning with the occasional fright, and ends up all but snuggled to her side, seeking out warmth as he rests.
Allison doesn’t move when Klaus slips into bed with her, the effects of the painkillers helping her relax enough to at least rest. Even if she has been in bed, and sleeping more than she has ever slept in her life, every time she tries to sleep she’s haunted. By Reginald, by Vanya, by memories that she has suppressed that have made their way forth at full strength.
But, for now she just sleeps. At some point she opens her eyes slightly, still drowsy and her thoughts feeling sluggish, but when she sees Klaus sleeping next to her she just lets herself drift off again. She doesn’t even question it; seeing her brother is so comforting that she doesn’t bother waking up completely, and she lets herself slip back into the comfortable darkness she had been in before.
The stillness doesn’t last for long, though. She dreams of the cabin, the way the whole place rattled. The way the lightbulbs shattered around her.
”I heard a rumor—”
She gasps, her mouth opening to cry out, but nothing comes out. That’s when she realizes she’s not in the cabin anymore. It’s her bedroom ceiling above her. Vanya isn’t here, the room isn’t shaking anymore, and even if in some level she knows it had been a nightmare, a hand still flies to her neck. She fully expects to feel blood, to feel the way it kept slipping through her fingers, but there’s nothing except for the gauze covering the stitches. And, god, she feels so stupid. She feels so stupid for the way she’s shaking, how her heart feels like it’s going to burst out of her chest. How her stomach feels like it swirls uncomfortably, and she closes her eyes as if willing it all to stop.
The effects of time travel and the general coming of the apocalypse have turned Klaus into a light sleeper. So when Allison gasps and jerks to consciousness, he wakes, too. It takes a second for him to understand whats going on, all sleepy brained and sleepy eyed, but he reaches for her arm instinctively.
"Al?"
He pushes himself up and rubs his free hand over his eyes, back through his wild hair. "Hey, hey, hey," he finally mutters, reaching to curl his arms around her beneath the covers and pull her close to his chest.
"I got you. Just take some deep breaths. In and out, atta girl..."
The sound of his voice alone helps to ground her, reminding her of where she is and where she isn’t, and she buries her face in his chest as she holds onto him. Allison isn’t a stranger to nightmares - she doubts anyone in her family is - but she’s not used to them being this strong anymore. She can still feel the blood on her, the sense of helplessness and dread as she bled out on the floor of that goddamned cabin hitting her like a ton of bricks, but she tries to follow Klaus’ instructions even if her lungs feel too small for her body. If she had her voice, it’d be impossible to hide the way her breath shudders into a sort of whimper as she transitions between the remnants of the nightmare to actually being awake, but instead there’s nothing. Just absolute silence from her end, except for the way her breathing finally settles into a more normal level.
For a moment she stays still, not willing to move at first, but eventually she pulls back slightly once she trusts herself a little bit more. She feels so stupid, when Klaus is the one that had gone back in time - to war, no less - and she’s here. Freaking out about what happened.
She swallows hard, her features pinching with pain for a moment before she finally makes eye contact with Klaus even if she looks embarrassed more than anything else as she mouths a silent I’m sorry to him.
Klaus can practically see the blood himself as well. The whole car ride spent with ratcheted nerves only to find his sister bleeding out and dying. (Klaus had believed she was dead when he first saw her, and he can’t forgive the thought). He squeezes her tight against his chest, reaching to pet her hair, anything he can do to help sooth her back into some semblance of calm.
He kisses her temple and sighs.
“Why are you apologizing? Trust me, if you hasn’t woken me I was about thirty seconds from a snoring session that would wake the whole house. I could feel it. I could.”
Klaus lets his mouth run away with him in situations like this, knowing the humor provides a buffer for both parties to ease back into whatever feels normal.
“Keep breathing, you’re fine. You’re home. I’d claim I could scare away the big bads, but they don’t exactly fall under my purview most days. It really should be, however. I can never conjure anyone fun.”
Allison breathes out a silent huff that's intended to be a chuckle, closing her eyes for a moment. She feels her lips tremble as she does so, the relief of being here and being home suddenly overwhelming, but she bites the inside of her cheek tightly as if to force herself to pull herself together.
God, she thinks, she's such a mess. Her eyes feel puffy - from sleep or from crying earlier with Patrick, she isn't sure - and she feels like crap, but she curls against Klaus. For a moment she just does as he suggests, she just keeps breathing, until she's close to a semblance of normal even if that new definition of it is skewed at this point.
Turning to her brother, she reaches up at him to touch his face, to try to look at him. She can't verbally ask how he's doing, but thankfully her facial expressions are obvious enough to inquire nonetheless. Yes, in a lot of ways she's deflecting, but she also wants to know considering she has been worried about him as well.
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no subject
He doesn’t comment on it, though; instead, he offers the mug he had served for himself since he barely poured it.
“You might want to hold off on that proposal, Allison might be upset she missed it,” he jokes before moving to get another mug from the cabinet. He had made a full pot, doubting his ability to go back to sleep, so there’s definitely enough to go around.
At his question, Patrick glances up briefly before he looks down at the coffee as he pours it. He’s not wrong, this isn’t like him at all. Generally it’s Klaus and Allison wandering around at night, sometimes even Claire as if she fears she’s missing out on something and she just wants to be included, but whenever he’s awake at this hour it’s only because he’s getting ready to take a very early flight for a meeting or a business trip. Considering he’s working from home, not willing to leave them just yet, there is definitely no business trip to get ready for right now.
He shrugs, moving to sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Just couldn’t sleep.” It sounds so simple, as if he just couldn’t get comfortable. It sounds better than admitting that seeing Allison as shaken up as she was had rattled him, too. The only reason he’s not still next to her it’s because she’s out cold now thanks to the medication, and he needed to clear his head a little before he could be there.
“After all these years I guess I just wanted to see what I’ve been missing out on,” he continues with a small smile, continuing the banter at least for a moment longer.
He nods towards the fridge. “There’s some pizza in there, too, in case you want some.” He and Claire could only eat so much, after all, without the Hargreeves joining them.
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But he knows the couldn't sleep line, having said it dozens of times over the last week or so himself. It's not any different now; when he closes his eyes at night he sees Dave, he sees the Apocalypse, he sees Vanya, he sees the blood down Allison's front, on the floor.
"If we must wait, I suppose I can contain myself," he sighs, all feigned drama as he digs around in one of the drawers for a fork. He should probably try and eat less like a heathen if he can, and he drags himself to another stool at the island, dragging it a little closer to Patrick. Klaus likes being near people, likes the closeness that this house has brought all of them over the years.
"But this is it, baby. Solitude, cold takeout, some coffee and some incredibly sexy company. The height of living, right here in your own kitchen." He grins around another mouthful of chicken, going quiet for a few moments before he sighs. "How is Claire? We saved the whole world but fucked up our own, so I guess that's the trade off, huh?" A shitty one, in fact. And while their family couldn't have done it without them, Klaus sometimes wonders if he and Allison shouldn't have packed up and left immediately following the funeral, after all.
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That’s why, things may be different now, but his concern for Klaus is almost the same as the concern he feels for his wife. That’s also why he feels guilt at letting them both go, at not insisting that they stay here considering neither has had anything good to say about their upbringing whenever it came up. He knows at the end of the day they were going to go no matter what, but this helplessness he feels at not knowing how to fix this for them is suffocating.
“She’s good,” he assures him with a small grin. “Turning the office into her own personal fort, so don’t be surprised if you’re suddenly missing a few pillows.” With Allison holed up in their room, her closet is off limits for dress up so Patrick has been trying to keep her distracted by essentially allowing the office to be Claire’s personal playground.
“I’m sorry things turned out so crappy,” he says after a moment. It feels like an understatement, but it’s sincere. “Neither of you deserve it. Was it always like this when you guys were younger? Saving the world but at your personal expense?”
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Klaus smiles at the thought, a warmth rising into his expression when he speaks about the little girl. Honestly, had it not been for Allison and Claire, he’s not sure where he would be now. But over time, Patrick has worked his way into that equation, and there’s something nice about sitting here with him in the kitchen. It keeps his head from spinning, keeps his mind from clouding over.
He sighs deeply. “Oh yes, we were daddy dearest’s little super powered trophies. We were good for nothing but saving the world and a means to practice his unending neglect and unfortunate parenting skills. But isn’t that the way with all parents?”
He laughs a little and drinks from his mug, downing at least half the cup in one sitting. “But we should have expected it to be a complete and utter shit show. Our family reunions are never going to be pretty. Why would they be?”
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As he speaks, he stays silent, just listening. The way that Klaus and Allison had grown up is so far from his own upbringing, that for a moment he doesn't really know what to say. For so many years he hadn't understood it, especially since Allison was never really fond of talking about her childhood, but he'd notice the way that she seemed like fish out of water whenever they would go visit his family. How holidays seemed to be never-ending for her; how it was almost like she was playing the role of someone else rather than herself, just because family get-togethers with laughter, loud meals, and regular conversation seemed foreign to her.
If anything, knowing how they were raised and how they both treat and act with Claire - and have acted with her from the moment she was born - just makes him appreciates them more. And, it makes something uncomfortable settle in his chest at how they must have grown up, how they were treated.
"You know, when I proposed I was almost offended when she wouldn't call anyone to talk about our news." His voice is quiet, guilty as if Klaus' words confirm what Allison had told him back then. Not that he hadn't believed her, he just hadn't fully understood it, especially with how close he himself was with his family. Allison refusing to bring in her family on their proposal, their wedding, it felt like she was hiding something. He just never fully realized how big it all was until now, when the very real repercussions of it all are smacking him in the face.
"I don't think I ever got it before. I'm sure I still don't," he admits with a small huff, "but...this is home for both of you now." He reaches over to give his shoulder a small squeeze. "I've already told her, but I'll tell you, too - Claire and I are both so proud of you. Whatever happened, we'll figure it all out. You guys aren't alone."
He gives his shoulder a pat before he turns back to his cup of coffee. "And I don't expect the shit show years to start until Claire turns into a teenager and wants to date, so...you have a safe place here. Both of you do."
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Klaus laughs, mirthless and tired at the thought. He remembers talkign to Allison late one night from a payphone, listening to the way she talked about Patrick and it was then that he knew she would never be coming back. Not really. He felt happy, then, for her. Happy that someone in the whole group managed to escape, get out and get a real life.
“She told me. To be fair I barely remember it, but she definitely told me.” He elbows Patrick and smiles sweetly. “But Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter... things like that didn’t happen there. Sure, we did our own little hurrahs but the most exciting thing we did was sneak out late at night for doughnuts one we figured out how to scam Dad’s surveillance system.”
He snorts, remember the way Five bolted around, the way Diego shattered lenses or covered up doorways to mask what they were doing. Sure, their father likely knew everything about every moment of their lives, but it was exciting back then. “We had a scheduled thirty minutes of personal time, and we were not to step outside of our poor little box. I did all the time, I’m sure that’s just impossible to imagine. So while we have brothers and a sister, I wouldn’t exactly say we had happy family traditions and memories. We were soliders, prim and proper. Or at least until I showed up to lessons in mom’s heels.”
He smirks and finishes off his coffee before he returns to the take out, stabbing a piece of chicken and stuffing it into his mouth. He turns at the hand on his shoulder and blinks over at Patrick, chewing thoughtfully while he observes the man.
“You know, when Allison brought me home? I thought you were going to kick me out when she was asleep. I mean, I would kick me out too for all the shit that I did, but she kept telling me how great you were. How kind you were. How you’d come around.” He pushes himself up to pour himself another cup of coffee, swiveling to top off Patrick’s cup as well.
“Frankly, this place- the two of you. Saved my life. Still are, and that’s quite a big debt to repay, so I’ll have to beg you to make the interest low, please and thank you.” He winks at the man as he turns away to replace the coffee pot.
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As he listens to the rest, though, he isn’t sure what to think. He, alone with the rest of the world, had heard all about the Umbrella Academy. The way Reginald Hargreeves introduced them, how he was almost flippant when someone questioned if he was concerned about the well-being of the children. At the time, he hadn’t thought anything of it, especially at the age when everything was happening. Like any other kid, he had thought it was cool that kids like him were saving the world, but that had been the extent of it. Later on, when Vanya had released her book, details had come out but Allison had been so clammed up over it that he just hadn’t paid much attention to it.
Now... Patrick has never and will never meet his father-in-law, but he knows he’d punch the shit out of that man if he could.
“Oh don’t give me too much credit,” he admits with a small wince. “I considered it in the beginning. I wasn’t sure what to really expect. But you made it easy. And, you brought out a different side of Allison that I couldn’t ignore. You made her really happy by being here, so...I’m glad you gave us a chance. I’m glad you gave me a chance,” he clarifies with a smile.
He takes a sip of his coffee before he turns back to Klaus. “Is there anything you need, or anything I can do for you?” A beat. “Or anything that’s not helping?”
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He leans his elbows on the island counter, setting the takeout down finally, to press his palms around the warm mug. His dog tags clank against the counter top and he shifts, as though even hitting the decadent marble is too much damage.
"You do realize I considered robbing both of you blind to go buy my next hit and fuck off into the sun, right? Especially those first few weeks. God, the withdrawal was awful. Not my best look, by far."
He sighs, looking down into the mug. "I'm fine. I'm just peachy. Can't sleep and might need to teach Claire about the wonders of soft, classical music instead of the crazy rock and roll shit for a while but hey, the sacrifices we make for advanced education. The words of our lord Mick Jagger ring true, one can't always get what they want."
He smiles at Patrick, a genuine smile tucked in amidst the drama. "I'll be fine. This isn't the worst thing I've been through. I had the first twenty years of my life for that, don't worry. I can help with Allison. Maybe not as well as you, but I can try. If you want me to."
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The sound of the dogtags make him pause as he raises the mug to his lips. He has noticed them since he came back, but this is the first time where it's just the two of them together for him to really notice. Did he have those before they left?
His admission that he considered robbing them makes him chuckle, though, making him forget of the question before he can think if he should ask it or not. Patrick did wonder about that, but obviously it hadn't changed anything at all between them. And Klaus hadn't done it, so he just shrugs slightly, because honestly it doesn't really matter at this point, does it.
Maybe one day they'll look at this and laugh just how they're doing now about those days. He just hopes it doesn't take another seven years for it.
"It's okay if you need some time, you know. Although, if you can teach Claire to like classical music, I'd greatly appreciate it."
He doesn't know all of what Klaus has gone through, or even what he has gone through now, but it's hard to imagine that this isn't the worst he has been through. He just doesn't want him to feel like he has to be okay if he isn't.
He huffs out a dry chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "Oh I don't know how much I'm helping. She's really struggling with this new normal."
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Klaus smiles down into his coffee, turning the cup between his palms. Allison's probably made out the worst of the pair, even if she might not think so. Losing her ability to speak, no less when she's returning to a child?
"I'll see what I can do," he hums, thoughtful, tapping his fingers against his lips. "It's just going to take time, but I'm sure she'll come around. We all do, but what happened back there... well." He shakes his head and pushes up from his seat, tossing the takeout in the garbage can before he settles himself against the counter, leaning a hip against it.
"Daddy dearest seems to have given us the gift of life that just keeps giving us shit hands. When she's ready, we should see if she'll see a doctor. If she won't, I'll drag her there myself. It's only fair, after the hospitals she dragged me to, remember."
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He nods slightly, thankful, when Klaus says he’ll give it a shot. It feels unfair to put that on him when he’s dealing with his own trauma, but he feels like he’s running out of options.
“How bad was it?”
The question is quiet, and while he had told himself when she had shown up looking pale and stitched up that the details ultimately didn’t matter because at least they were back, he still can’t help it as it slips past his lips.
He drinks the rest of his coffee and sighs as he sets the cup down. “I’ve tried, but she didn’t seem very convinced. I barely even managed to get her to take some painkillers tonight. So, hey, if you can coax her into it, that’d be great.”
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He flourishes a hand for dramatic effect and sighs. God, he could use a cigarette, but he's not quite willing to leave this conversation yet. "Turns out serious emotional repression can be a real drag when you have powers driven by your emotions. Or so I think that's how it works, I really don't know. But Allison was trying to save her." He frowns, gripping the counter top as he starts into the story. "Tried to rumor her, and the rest is history."
Klaus decides to leave out the details, the blood, and everything in between.
"But here we are," he says weakly, wiggling his fingers in a little jazz hands sort of move.
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“Wait, powers? I thought she didn’t have any powers.”
And she had slit Allison’s throat? Somehow Patrick had figured it had been something else, someone else, but hearing that it had been their sister makes it worse. So, so much worse.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he says after a moment, when he can make his voice work. “Is Vanya okay? Everyone else?”
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The fact that Reginald feared something and chose to suppress it? It makes Klaus erupt into laughter, a little unhinged, perhaps. After all, what did his father do except throw him to the wolves when he admitted how afraid he was of the ghosts, the undead? To think that Reginald would take the easy way out?
"What a bastard," he sighs. "But yeah, Vanya went bananas, naturally, but Allison stopped her in the end. Now we're all on our way to being one great, big fucked up family, yay." He raises his fists and gives them a little cheering shake. "But it's for the best, I guess. Allison and I caught a plane back here as fast as we could, obviously."
He reaches to tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear, hands fishing for his mug afterward. "That place isn't good for any of us, but family's family I guess."
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Scrubbing a hand along his face, he sighs wearily before getting up for another refill of coffee and topping off Klaus’ mug as well. He needs to move, somehow staying still felt stifling for a moment.
“I’m really glad you guys came back as soon as you did.” Before anything else could happen. It could be argued that they could have probably waited a few days, considering Allison looked like she might faint by the time they landed as the last few days and almost dying caught up to her, but the selfish part of him is just glad they’re home now. Safe.
Or, well, as safe as they can be.
“If you need anything,” he says after a moment, leaning against the counter. “Anything at all. I hope you know I’m here. I’m not planning on going back to the office at least until...you know. She’s feeling somewhat better. So, really. Whatever you need.”
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He smiles at the top-off of coffee, reaching one hand to brush fingers against Patrick's arm as the man moves around the kitchen.
"Oh I only need your eternal love and affection to soothe my aching, broken heart, Patrick, don't you know that?" He chuckles to himself and drinks from his mug again, humming contentedly at the warmth it provides. "I'll get her to a doctor, go back to work myself. The yogis of high Hollywood are a'calling after all. I think keeping busy will help. The sleeping, the urges, everything." His free hand absently rises to he dog tags, thumbing them, feeling the stamped ridges that press little David Katz indents into his skin.
"God, I should try and sleep."
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“You should,” he agrees, turning to him and extending his hand so he can take back his cup of coffee.
“Why don’t you go to sleep in my room? God knows I won’t be sleeping any time soon, and I have some things to catch up on, anyway. I think Allison could use your company as much as you could probably use hers.”
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"You should sleep, too, mind you," he huffs and finally relinquishes the cup. Only when Patrick is on the move again does Klaus push away from the counter. He curls his arms around Patrick's waist from behind and presses his cheek against the man's shoulder. "But until then, you are a saint among men, a gentleman and a scholar. Thanks."
He grins and releases him, skirting past the man with a little wiggle-wave of his fingers. He stretches his arms high over his head as he steps into the hallway, pausing to looking back at the man. "We'll have the old Allison back before you know it." He smiles still, but there's an edge to it, a sadness, an understanding. "See you in the morning."
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He might just go lay down in Claire’s bed, whether or not he’s tired. At least having his daughter close, watching her sleep, will help calm everything that’s rattling around in his brain.
The hug makes Patrick smile fondly, and while he can’t exactly return it, he pats his arm before moving to the sink to rinse the mugs as Klaus resumes his walk out of the kitchen. At his words about getting the old Allison back, he turns back to Klaus, a small smile of his own pulls at his lips but it’s not very convincing. He isn’t sure anymore if the old Allison is really trapped in there, like how her voice is, and just can’t find her way back anymore or if what happened has flipped everything. It’s probably too early to tell, but the murkiness of it all makes it hard to really even think this could be just temporary.
He doesn’t say that, though. He just nods as if he believes it, and in appreciation for Klaus. In gratefulness for the fact that he’s here, that he’s not fighting him on going to lay down with Allison because at least that feels normal.
“See you in the morning,” he echoes before turning back to finish cleaning up, letting himself get lost in the silence of the house.
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He pads down the hall, pausing to peek in at Claire, who should be sound asleep. She isn't, and when he pokes his head into her room she peers up at him, giving a sleepy wave. "Ohhh, someone's in trouble. They woke the princess from her beauty sleep." And he sneaks in to kiss her forehead, listens to her mumble something sleepily incoherent, before he all but bundles her up into her blankets. (She often brags about how Klaus is the best 'tucker-inner' in the house).
Once he's sure the little one is tucked safely into her bed and asleep, he turns back to the hall and slips into Patrick and Allison's bedroom. He doesn't bother shucking off his jeans, instead just sliding into the warm, empty space beside his sister. He's been in this spot before, in days long past when nightmares kept him up and the shakes prevented anything else.
So he's careful and quiet when he sinks his weight into the bed and tucks himself away under the covers. He doesn't expect to fall asleep as quickly as he does, but exhaustion finally takes its toll. He drifts off. At some point in his sleep he shifts, tossing and turning with the occasional fright, and ends up all but snuggled to her side, seeking out warmth as he rests.
cw: nightmares/blood
But, for now she just sleeps. At some point she opens her eyes slightly, still drowsy and her thoughts feeling sluggish, but when she sees Klaus sleeping next to her she just lets herself drift off again. She doesn’t even question it; seeing her brother is so comforting that she doesn’t bother waking up completely, and she lets herself slip back into the comfortable darkness she had been in before.
The stillness doesn’t last for long, though. She dreams of the cabin, the way the whole place rattled. The way the lightbulbs shattered around her.
”I heard a rumor—”
She gasps, her mouth opening to cry out, but nothing comes out. That’s when she realizes she’s not in the cabin anymore. It’s her bedroom ceiling above her. Vanya isn’t here, the room isn’t shaking anymore, and even if in some level she knows it had been a nightmare, a hand still flies to her neck. She fully expects to feel blood, to feel the way it kept slipping through her fingers, but there’s nothing except for the gauze covering the stitches. And, god, she feels so stupid. She feels so stupid for the way she’s shaking, how her heart feels like it’s going to burst out of her chest. How her stomach feels like it swirls uncomfortably, and she closes her eyes as if willing it all to stop.
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"Al?"
He pushes himself up and rubs his free hand over his eyes, back through his wild hair. "Hey, hey, hey," he finally mutters, reaching to curl his arms around her beneath the covers and pull her close to his chest.
"I got you. Just take some deep breaths. In and out, atta girl..."
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For a moment she stays still, not willing to move at first, but eventually she pulls back slightly once she trusts herself a little bit more. She feels so stupid, when Klaus is the one that had gone back in time - to war, no less - and she’s here. Freaking out about what happened.
She swallows hard, her features pinching with pain for a moment before she finally makes eye contact with Klaus even if she looks embarrassed more than anything else as she mouths a silent I’m sorry to him.
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He kisses her temple and sighs.
“Why are you apologizing? Trust me, if you hasn’t woken me I was about thirty seconds from a snoring session that would wake the whole house. I could feel it. I could.”
Klaus lets his mouth run away with him in situations like this, knowing the humor provides a buffer for both parties to ease back into whatever feels normal.
“Keep breathing, you’re fine. You’re home. I’d claim I could scare away the big bads, but they don’t exactly fall under my purview most days. It really should be, however. I can never conjure anyone fun.”
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God, she thinks, she's such a mess. Her eyes feel puffy - from sleep or from crying earlier with Patrick, she isn't sure - and she feels like crap, but she curls against Klaus. For a moment she just does as he suggests, she just keeps breathing, until she's close to a semblance of normal even if that new definition of it is skewed at this point.
Turning to her brother, she reaches up at him to touch his face, to try to look at him. She can't verbally ask how he's doing, but thankfully her facial expressions are obvious enough to inquire nonetheless. Yes, in a lot of ways she's deflecting, but she also wants to know considering she has been worried about him as well.
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