It's impossible to ignore the way that both Allison's and Klaus's entire demeanor shifted the moment the phone call came about their father's passing. Not only for what happened, but there's almost a sense of dread that has enveloped the entire house, especially after the decision is made that they are headed to the East Coast to attend the funeral. He had tried to talk to Allison, tried to assure her that they don't have to go. That they don't owe anyone anything, because even if Patrick doesn't know a whole lot about the way they were raised, he knows enough.
The flights have been booked, though, and Allison had hardly accepted a hug from him before she bristled past him to read to Claire.
He's in the process of clearing the table when Klaus speaks, and he smirks - mainly to try to keep up the charade like how his brother-in-law is doing. Klaus has lived with them enough that he can tell the difference in him as well, the way that his voice has changed since that phone call, but he doesn't break the illusion. Not yet, anyway. If Klaus needs this, some sense of normalcy, then he'll give it to him even if it's just for a moment.
Setting some extra dishes next to the sink, Patrick gives Klaus's shoulder a pat. "You know, if I didn't have meetings and Claire had school, I may consider it. Timing is just not on our side." Since all the dishes are cleared, he moves to the coffee maker because he has a feeling only Claire will be sleeping tonight.
Klaus muses with a little laugh, taking up the extra dishes to begin washing them, running the water over them before dropping them into the dish washer. He can hear Allison down the hall, her voice animated and warm as she reads to little Claire who, for how sleepy she should be, is still talking a mile a minute during the story itself.
He blinks up at Patrick when he speaks and lets out a little breath. “Coffee would be great,” he smiles and bends to close up the dishwasher after dropping a pod in the dispenser. Once it’s whirring and running he turns, leaning a hip against the counter, watching as Patrick starts on teh coffee. “Might as well make a full pot while you’re at it.”
None of them will be sleeping, not with what lies ahead of them. The fact that Reginald has died, that suddenly the dark force that had been looming over them, even from a distance, is gone? That they’ll have to return to that house, that they’ll have to face siblings they haven’t seen in years?
“I have to admit, I’m disappointed you have to do all of those big, fancy meetings. While I think it would be an abysmal idea for you to come meet the whole famn damily, I wish you could come.” But that would leave Claire to who? And dragging Claire to New York is out of the question. He doesn’t want her anywhere near the freakshow that is his family, because nothing is ever simple and things are always dangerous, even if it’s just a little reunion.
How long has it been since he was thrown out, left shivering on the stoop in the cool air of the fall evening? When the doors to the Academy suddenly closed on him for good, save for the quiet handouts Pogo and Grace would extend when they could. What will he do when he sees them all again? Luther, Diego, Vanya?
“Hopefully we’ll put the old man in the ground the day we arrive so we can turn right back around and come on back. I have work to do next week, after all.” He flips his hair and moves to hoist himself up onto the counter, sitting with legs crossed. “God forbid Mrs. West goes without her ogling yoga for a week.”
Patrick chuckles softly under his breath, although there’s very little humor behind it. “Oh trust me, I’m filling this thing to the brim.”
The last time Allison had gone back to New York, the circumstances had been very different and she hadn’t wasted any time before she grabbed her keys, a suitcase with a few outfits she could cycle through in a pinch, and had more or less flown out the door. This time, there’s no sense of urgency to get out of here, but he knows that packing won’t be as easy. Both Allison and Klaus seem to already be struggling with what’s to come, and considering they have problems sleeping as it is, this won’t help matters any.
“Trust me, I wish I could tag along, too,” he admits with a sigh as he leans against the counter once the coffeemaker starts going. But, if there’s one thing he’s in agreement with Klaus and Allison, is that Claire is not to go to New York. Not right now, not for this. Patrick has always been well aware of the physical distance between Los Angeles and the city that his wife had grown up in, but now it’s finally dawning on him how strategic she had been. This is not only where she had come to make a career for herself, but it’s as geographically distant from each other as they can be. Crossing that invisible line that puts them back in range of the world they had left behind feels forbidden, even if he can’t help but wish that they would both stay here with them as well.
“If you’re gone longer than a week, I will go there and bring you guys back, though. Don’t tempt me.” It’s said almost lightly, but it’s obvious that he’s not really joking.
After a moment, “Stupid question, but... How are you holding up?”
"If we're gone longer than a week you might as well assume we're dead," Klaus laughs, pitchy and sing song as he folds his arms over his chest. It's a joke, but there's something about going back to that place that makes him believe it a little bit. If they're gone longer than it takes to roll up, burn and bury and asshole old man, and turn around to leave after all the family bonding? Something's gone wrong.
Patrick provides a certain level of steadiness, stability that Klaus has come to rely on in uncertain situations. Knowing that when Allison is busy with work or Claire, he can turn to a man who hated him all those years ago, and just breathe? It's a godsend. His walls come down in a different way around him than they might with Allison. Patrick doesn't have the years of history, doesn't have the scars of their shared childhood, doesn't know exactly what everything looked and felt like back there. There's comfort in that.
His head falls and he stares at his bare feet for a second, toes curling against the cool flooring. "You're far, far too intelligent of a man to come up with a stupid question," he huffs softly before looking over at him, a wry smile pulled over his lips. "Frankly, I'm terrified, but what can you do? Dear old daddy's dead and maybe there's some will money in it for us, though I highly doubt it."
There's a strange humming under his skin, a buzzing, itching, nervous feeling that terrifies him more than the journey. He can handle California and its street bums, all the glitz and glam of Hollywood, the stress of paparazzi at inopportune times. He can handle that. He doesn't need anything but Allison, Patrick and Claire to chase that away.
This? This is darker, a need that begs for a little preparation, for the bite of numbness. Going home isn't going to be easy and it isn't going to be fun. "But it's been six years. I mean last time I was home, I was told to find somewhere else to sleep because sleeping on the steps of the Academy made them look bad." He snorts. "A whopping eighteen and ready for the world with nothing but my skivvies and a bottle of laphroaig I stole from the pops."
The joke makes something twist in the pit of his stomach, even if he’s careful not to show it. After knowing Klaus for over six years, he has come to know the cadence in his voice, when he’s joking and when he’s attempting to use humor to hide how he must be feeling. There’s nothing humorous about the way he responds, if anything he sounds serious about it, and it makes alarm bells go off in his head. Klaus has become an integral part of their family, of his own life, and the sudden need to protect them both swells in his chest so strongly that for a moment he can barely breathe.
He just watches him, though, his stance casual as if this conversation isn’t as heavy as it is. As if the ghost of his father isn’t in this kitchen, as if the massive storm cloud that he and Allison will be venturing into isn’t looming by, threatening everything they hold dear.
“I know this is a crazy concept, but...why even go, then?” Patrick can’t wrap his head around it, can’t comprehend why they’re flinging themselves back to a world neither of them even want to go back to. Allison purposely doesn’t work out of New York. Klaus hasn’t gone back since Allison managed to convince him to come live with them in California. Nothing of what they’ve said about their past has been good, so why even do it?
He’s careful to keep his tone normal, though, treading lightly. His attempt to have this same discussion with Allison had gotten him nowhere, and she had been quick to shoot him down, walls and defenses that she had never used on him before suddenly going up as the old Allison surfaced, but if Klaus can be honest about not going, maybe it’ll be different with him.
“There’s nothing that says you have to go, Klaus. Based on what you’ve shared, you don’t owe your father anything. Even now.”
Klaus laughs at himself, hearing the way he's talking about it like it's some silly little relationship instead of a vastly abusive, fucked up mental game his father has been playing all their lives.
"He was a real dick to us but you know, when you spend most of your life vying for the affection of a freak sociopath, it kind of does something to your brain. Now that the asshole's gone, it'd be easy to clap our hands and be done with it all lickety split. But is it bad I still feel like I should give a shit? Even though calling him dad is about as far from what he actually was to any of us?"
He sighs and runs a hand back through his hair at the thought. Maybe his other siblings don't feel that way, or maybe he's the only one who's willing to admit it. As much as they all hate him, there's no denying they spent much of their lives calling the icy, frigid man, Dad.
"It's mostly to go for the others, too. That's gonna be weird as hell, let me tell you. It's been six years and longer since I've seen some of them. We're a real tight knit family, you know."
Pushing away from the counter he drifts in the kitchen, circling the island, hand resting on the cool countertop as he walks. "I mean think of it like this. Batman could be having the most mind-blowing sex in his whole life, with the hottest bat-babe he could find, but he'd stop in the middle of busting a nut if that bat signal went off. The obligation, the duty, and all. It's like that. Just way less sexy."
Once upon a time, Klaus using that kind of analogy might have surprised him or made him look at him in confusion, as if he wasn’t sure if he should focus on the way he explained the situation - and the ease of doing so - or actually trying to decipher the message.
But, Klaus is family. Patrick may not have the same bond that Klaus and Allison have, where sometimes they seem to know what the other is thinking without even looking at each other, but he’s comfortable saying that he knows his brother-in-law pretty damn well. And, the proof of how well he knows him is in the way that he not only isn’t surprised by the example, but he understands it. He may not agree to it, but he understands it. Patrick never had to deal with the manipulation that Reginald Hargreeves used on his children, nor did he have to deal with the lives they had to live. The press tours, the way he boasted about the Umbrella Academy, how he’d even berate them in front of reporters whenever they’d fail. Sometimes it’s easy to forget about that part of their lives, considering how far removed they are from it now, but...he’s now seeing how quickly it is for them to also get sucked back in.
As Klaus circles the island, he strolls over and intercepts him before he can continue, hands resting against his shoulders so that he can look at him directly.
“Then, just be careful. Both of you.” This isn’t Patrick asking Klaus to look after his wife. It’s him asking him to also take care of himself, the concern for him as well visible in his eyes. “I don’t know if you’ve been able to notice the last few years, but I’m pretty fond of you. So get in and get out, before your niece and I go out there to bring you back.”
He says it with a smile, but he’s serious. He wishes he could do more, he wishes he could ask his parents to come out to watch over Claire so he could go with them to New York, but...
“Also, for the record. You’re being very brave, even if you feel terrified, considering what you’re doing and walking back into the lion’s den. I hope the rest of your siblings can appreciate what a badass you’ve turned out to be.” He gives his shoulder a small squeeze. “You’re not that eighteen year old kid anymore. You’ve turned your life around, and they better be proud of you, how Allison and I are proud of you. And if they aren’t...then I guess it’s a good thing you’re coming right back, because you belong here, anyway.”
Klaus can't help but pause when Patrick's hands fall to his shoulders and something about the touch brings whatever frenetic resolve he'd cobbled together crumbling down. The man has a way of doing this, really, and has since that initial year of finding his footing in this place has passed. Since their relationship became less about how they connected through Allison and more about watching crappy TV, making coffee, eating too much pizza when Allison was on a job, and talking candidly in a way that Klaus had never expected.
Like this, like they are now. Klaus finds himself thinking that he'll have to thank Patrick for this one day, for being his friend like this. Best friend, really. He'd wager brother, even, if his family wasn't already so fucked up, so to drop him into that tier would be an insult. He's better and beyond.
"Yeah, we will." He breathes out a laugh, a hand reaching to grip one forearm, because who is Klaus without that constant state of motion. "We'll be back before you know it. Gotta put up a good face, after all."
He'll protect Allison, is what he wants to say. Klaus? He can deal with anything, and while he's sure Allison can, too, he knows his own tolerance for bullshit is much higher. It's when Patrick mentions how proud he is that Klaus looks away with another airy laugh. "Oh, come on now, don't start with the waterworks, it would be very embarrassing for Claire to see you cry. I'd have to tell her I turned down your offer of elopement and broke your heart. We can't have that."
He pulls his hand away, if only to run it back through his own hair, pushing it out of his face. "I can paint the picture for you now. When we go back, it'll be just as it was before we all left, except we're all bigger now. And probably more angry. More stupid, maybe. They'll see their brother the druggie and their sister the movie star. Luther might be the only one that knows I left, if Allison told him. Frankly, I could be dead in a ditch somewhere and no one would know the better. They'd roll their eyes and say ah, that's our Klaus. So I know what I'm going back to, darling, don't you worry your pretty little head. I've got Allison and Ben in my corner, after all, how could I possible lose? And she's got us."
The airy laugh doesn't fool him, but Patrick just smiles and doesn't push. Like with Allison, he knows when to push and when to back off with Klaus as well, and for now he just smiles, easing back into their normal teasing even if the look in his eyes say that he's not backing down from what he said. Patrick may have been dragged into this whole situation with Klaus, had been forced to welcome him into this house that he and Allison had bought shortly after getting married, but as the years progressed things changed. Klaus is as much a member of his family as his own siblings, and he really is damn proud of everything he has accomplished.
"You're right, she'll probably defend you, anyway," he says with a sigh, since he often jokes that Claire likes Klaus better than she likes her own parents. "I don't know if my ego can take that tonight."
He gives his shoulders a squeeze again before letting go. There's a sympathetic look on his face as he explains what he's expecting once they go home, although he can't quite help how he frowns when he mentions that that the others would just see him as the druggie. He hopes that he's wrong, but based on what he has heard, he wouldn't be all that surprised and he hates that part.
He hates everything about this, actually.
At the mention of Luther, there's a slight shift in his features and Patrick has to catch himself before he slips and clarifies that point to him. Allison hadn't told him, exactly. Patrick still remembers how she was after that phone call, years ago, when Luther decided to call her and ask her what the hell she had been thinking in taking Klaus to California. Because, of course, someone from the press had found out the news and had tried to make a quick buck out of it. Her assistant and PR rep had managed to nix the story (or so he thinks), but Allison had been so upset after that argument with Luther that it had taken Patrick almost an hour to calm her down, and even then it had hardly worked.
Unable to stay put, he walks over to serve the coffee that is now done brewing. "I'll worry until you're both back here," he clarifies with a small smirk. "But, you're right. I'm glad you'll keep each other company, at least."
Going home means facing demons he's not quite ready to meet head on. Sure, coming to California meant removing himself from all temptation, meant a stable home and support, meant a real family instead of the shadow of one. And maybe he and Patrick had a rough go of it in the beginning, but there's something to be said about the tiny little life Klaus has made here.
He doesn't want to leave. More than anything in the whole world, he doesn't want to return to a place that has no ability to see every step he's taken to get to where he is now.
Leaning against the island, he rests his hands on the top, fidgeting with the tips of his fingers, unsure of what to do with all the nervous energy he usually pours into his words and his work. But the coffee gives him something to do and he follows behind Patrick to gather up a mug for himself. He drinks from it immediately, ignoring the way it burns a path straight to his stomach.
"I'll look after her, I promise," he says finally, sighing. "Not like the difficult shit that waits for us at home will be any worse than the first twenty years of my life, so I'm well armed for anything at this point." He snorts into his cup before he takes another long drink from it.
Something in his gut tells him this trip won't just be a simple trip home for a funeral, though. He's not sure why he thinks that or why, but he's felt these pulls before, where he wakes with the sinking dread of another sibling leaving long before they announce it, where he wakes knowing that the doors of the Academy might lock behind him for good for the last time. These are things he knows, and something about the future leaves the same, warning pool of dread resting deep in his belly.
"I don't think I ever said it before, but I'm glad you decided to let me live in your spare room like a decrepit stepchild for a while there. I know it was touch and go there for a while because, wow, was I a hot mess and a half, but. Well, earning your trust was one of the best things that could have come from that twenty-something disaster, so."
Klaus raises one shoulder in a half shrug, eyes focused on his coffee before he dares look up and across from him. The dread in his stomach swirls sickly, and for the first time since his arrival in this place he feels real fear; the sudden, swift punch of something that forms a lump in his throat and threatens to wreck the strange pocket of peace he's found here in their home.
"Frankly, I'd probably be dead by now if both of you hadn't let me stay. Well, maybe. I have a funny habit of giving death the good old slip, so maybe not, but you know what I mean." He laughs and turns his mug between his palms, soaking up the warmth into cold hands.
"I don't know. Guess I lost my train of thought, really, but I just thought you should know that. Thank you, I think are the words I was trying for but they feel so trite and cheesy, ugh."
“You don’t have to promise that, I know you will.” He glances over as he says it with a small smile. “I want you to take care of yourself, too. That’s also important.”
Patrick knows, after all, how important Allison is to Klaus. He remembers when she was put on bed rest while she was pregnant, and one time that she had gotten hurt on set when a stunt went wrong, how Klaus’s entire focus shifted to his sister to make sure she’d be okay. So, really, Patrick has no concerns when it comes to whether or not Klaus will look after Allison. He’s more worried he’ll forget about himself, especially with everything going on.
He’s about to take a sip of his coffee, when Klaus’s words stop him short and for a moment he doesn’t know what to say. He’s touched by them, but there’s something in his tone that makes him uneasy. He’s not sure if he’s looking too much into it, or if he’s more unsettled about this situation than he’s letting on, but it feels too much like a goodbye and he hates it.
“I’m really glad you came to live with us,” he answers after a moment, eyes on him whether or not Klaus wants to look. He wants him to know he means it. It’s not just him trying to appease him or he nice about it when it feels like they’re about to jump over a precipice with no way of knowing what’s below them. “And I’m very thankful for the fact that you decided to trust me, too. Things may have been hard in the beginning, but I can’t imagine our family anymore without you in it. I don’t want to. You’re a big part of it, and I really hope you know that.”
Both Allison and Patrick have been trying for years to show it by including him in family vacations, pictures, getting his input about improvements on the house, decisions about Claire... For all intents and purposes, Klaus has become like a third parent to Claire, and it’s something that Patrick hadn’t decided lightly. He trusts him. He loves him as if he was his own brother.
“You may have been a disaster in your twenties, but...if you weren’t so great I wouldn’t appreciate you and have you here in the way that you are. You’re my family, Klaus. I’m glad things worked out the way they did.”
It feels like a goodbye, but Klaus doesn't know if it should be. If he should let it settle between them like something that needs to be said before it's too late. He stares down into his coffee as he wrestles with the unease in his gut, with the nerves that rattle a few screws loose and make him feel a little bit more like the man from all those years ago.
"How could I not trust you, I mean look at that face," he gestures to Patrick, raising his eyes now to look the man in the face.
He's struck suddenly by how much he adores the man across from him, how much he adores the sweet little girl tucked into the bed down the hall, how much this life has restored the shattered, estranged pieces of his heart. He doesn't want to go. He knows for a fact that whatever waits for them back home will chew them up and spit them out, just like it always has. Nothing their father did ever came without a price.
"You and Claire and Allison are all I have," he says quietly, a fond smile on his face. "You're my family, and I'd very much like to keep it that way, thank you. I can't promise I won't make Claire into a miniature version of myself, but really I'd just be doing you both a favor."
It's easier to tease, to joke, to try and dismiss the welling pressure that points toward danger, that points toward something bad. "But we don't really say that stuff. You know, too busy being the good, old-fashioned men of the house," he swings an arm up in a flex, dropping his voice for dramatic effect. "Can't show those feelings around here. Sign'a weakness."
The energy rushes out of him on a sigh, however, and he brings the coffee cup to his lips, draining it. "So I just thought I should rip the band-aid off and say it."
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no subject
The flights have been booked, though, and Allison had hardly accepted a hug from him before she bristled past him to read to Claire.
He's in the process of clearing the table when Klaus speaks, and he smirks - mainly to try to keep up the charade like how his brother-in-law is doing. Klaus has lived with them enough that he can tell the difference in him as well, the way that his voice has changed since that phone call, but he doesn't break the illusion. Not yet, anyway. If Klaus needs this, some sense of normalcy, then he'll give it to him even if it's just for a moment.
Setting some extra dishes next to the sink, Patrick gives Klaus's shoulder a pat. "You know, if I didn't have meetings and Claire had school, I may consider it. Timing is just not on our side." Since all the dishes are cleared, he moves to the coffee maker because he has a feeling only Claire will be sleeping tonight.
"Want a cup, or save it for later?"
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Klaus muses with a little laugh, taking up the extra dishes to begin washing them, running the water over them before dropping them into the dish washer. He can hear Allison down the hall, her voice animated and warm as she reads to little Claire who, for how sleepy she should be, is still talking a mile a minute during the story itself.
He blinks up at Patrick when he speaks and lets out a little breath. “Coffee would be great,” he smiles and bends to close up the dishwasher after dropping a pod in the dispenser. Once it’s whirring and running he turns, leaning a hip against the counter, watching as Patrick starts on teh coffee. “Might as well make a full pot while you’re at it.”
None of them will be sleeping, not with what lies ahead of them. The fact that Reginald has died, that suddenly the dark force that had been looming over them, even from a distance, is gone? That they’ll have to return to that house, that they’ll have to face siblings they haven’t seen in years?
“I have to admit, I’m disappointed you have to do all of those big, fancy meetings. While I think it would be an abysmal idea for you to come meet the whole famn damily, I wish you could come.” But that would leave Claire to who? And dragging Claire to New York is out of the question. He doesn’t want her anywhere near the freakshow that is his family, because nothing is ever simple and things are always dangerous, even if it’s just a little reunion.
How long has it been since he was thrown out, left shivering on the stoop in the cool air of the fall evening? When the doors to the Academy suddenly closed on him for good, save for the quiet handouts Pogo and Grace would extend when they could. What will he do when he sees them all again? Luther, Diego, Vanya?
“Hopefully we’ll put the old man in the ground the day we arrive so we can turn right back around and come on back. I have work to do next week, after all.” He flips his hair and moves to hoist himself up onto the counter, sitting with legs crossed. “God forbid Mrs. West goes without her ogling yoga for a week.”
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The last time Allison had gone back to New York, the circumstances had been very different and she hadn’t wasted any time before she grabbed her keys, a suitcase with a few outfits she could cycle through in a pinch, and had more or less flown out the door. This time, there’s no sense of urgency to get out of here, but he knows that packing won’t be as easy. Both Allison and Klaus seem to already be struggling with what’s to come, and considering they have problems sleeping as it is, this won’t help matters any.
“Trust me, I wish I could tag along, too,” he admits with a sigh as he leans against the counter once the coffeemaker starts going. But, if there’s one thing he’s in agreement with Klaus and Allison, is that Claire is not to go to New York. Not right now, not for this. Patrick has always been well aware of the physical distance between Los Angeles and the city that his wife had grown up in, but now it’s finally dawning on him how strategic she had been. This is not only where she had come to make a career for herself, but it’s as geographically distant from each other as they can be. Crossing that invisible line that puts them back in range of the world they had left behind feels forbidden, even if he can’t help but wish that they would both stay here with them as well.
“If you’re gone longer than a week, I will go there and bring you guys back, though. Don’t tempt me.” It’s said almost lightly, but it’s obvious that he’s not really joking.
After a moment, “Stupid question, but... How are you holding up?”
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Patrick provides a certain level of steadiness, stability that Klaus has come to rely on in uncertain situations. Knowing that when Allison is busy with work or Claire, he can turn to a man who hated him all those years ago, and just breathe? It's a godsend. His walls come down in a different way around him than they might with Allison. Patrick doesn't have the years of history, doesn't have the scars of their shared childhood, doesn't know exactly what everything looked and felt like back there. There's comfort in that.
His head falls and he stares at his bare feet for a second, toes curling against the cool flooring. "You're far, far too intelligent of a man to come up with a stupid question," he huffs softly before looking over at him, a wry smile pulled over his lips. "Frankly, I'm terrified, but what can you do? Dear old daddy's dead and maybe there's some will money in it for us, though I highly doubt it."
There's a strange humming under his skin, a buzzing, itching, nervous feeling that terrifies him more than the journey. He can handle California and its street bums, all the glitz and glam of Hollywood, the stress of paparazzi at inopportune times. He can handle that. He doesn't need anything but Allison, Patrick and Claire to chase that away.
This? This is darker, a need that begs for a little preparation, for the bite of numbness. Going home isn't going to be easy and it isn't going to be fun. "But it's been six years. I mean last time I was home, I was told to find somewhere else to sleep because sleeping on the steps of the Academy made them look bad." He snorts. "A whopping eighteen and ready for the world with nothing but my skivvies and a bottle of laphroaig I stole from the pops."
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He just watches him, though, his stance casual as if this conversation isn’t as heavy as it is. As if the ghost of his father isn’t in this kitchen, as if the massive storm cloud that he and Allison will be venturing into isn’t looming by, threatening everything they hold dear.
“I know this is a crazy concept, but...why even go, then?” Patrick can’t wrap his head around it, can’t comprehend why they’re flinging themselves back to a world neither of them even want to go back to. Allison purposely doesn’t work out of New York. Klaus hasn’t gone back since Allison managed to convince him to come live with them in California. Nothing of what they’ve said about their past has been good, so why even do it?
He’s careful to keep his tone normal, though, treading lightly. His attempt to have this same discussion with Allison had gotten him nowhere, and she had been quick to shoot him down, walls and defenses that she had never used on him before suddenly going up as the old Allison surfaced, but if Klaus can be honest about not going, maybe it’ll be different with him.
“There’s nothing that says you have to go, Klaus. Based on what you’ve shared, you don’t owe your father anything. Even now.”
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Klaus laughs at himself, hearing the way he's talking about it like it's some silly little relationship instead of a vastly abusive, fucked up mental game his father has been playing all their lives.
"He was a real dick to us but you know, when you spend most of your life vying for the affection of a freak sociopath, it kind of does something to your brain. Now that the asshole's gone, it'd be easy to clap our hands and be done with it all lickety split. But is it bad I still feel like I should give a shit? Even though calling him dad is about as far from what he actually was to any of us?"
He sighs and runs a hand back through his hair at the thought. Maybe his other siblings don't feel that way, or maybe he's the only one who's willing to admit it. As much as they all hate him, there's no denying they spent much of their lives calling the icy, frigid man, Dad.
"It's mostly to go for the others, too. That's gonna be weird as hell, let me tell you. It's been six years and longer since I've seen some of them. We're a real tight knit family, you know."
Pushing away from the counter he drifts in the kitchen, circling the island, hand resting on the cool countertop as he walks. "I mean think of it like this. Batman could be having the most mind-blowing sex in his whole life, with the hottest bat-babe he could find, but he'd stop in the middle of busting a nut if that bat signal went off. The obligation, the duty, and all. It's like that. Just way less sexy."
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But, Klaus is family. Patrick may not have the same bond that Klaus and Allison have, where sometimes they seem to know what the other is thinking without even looking at each other, but he’s comfortable saying that he knows his brother-in-law pretty damn well. And, the proof of how well he knows him is in the way that he not only isn’t surprised by the example, but he understands it. He may not agree to it, but he understands it. Patrick never had to deal with the manipulation that Reginald Hargreeves used on his children, nor did he have to deal with the lives they had to live. The press tours, the way he boasted about the Umbrella Academy, how he’d even berate them in front of reporters whenever they’d fail. Sometimes it’s easy to forget about that part of their lives, considering how far removed they are from it now, but...he’s now seeing how quickly it is for them to also get sucked back in.
As Klaus circles the island, he strolls over and intercepts him before he can continue, hands resting against his shoulders so that he can look at him directly.
“Then, just be careful. Both of you.” This isn’t Patrick asking Klaus to look after his wife. It’s him asking him to also take care of himself, the concern for him as well visible in his eyes. “I don’t know if you’ve been able to notice the last few years, but I’m pretty fond of you. So get in and get out, before your niece and I go out there to bring you back.”
He says it with a smile, but he’s serious. He wishes he could do more, he wishes he could ask his parents to come out to watch over Claire so he could go with them to New York, but...
“Also, for the record. You’re being very brave, even if you feel terrified, considering what you’re doing and walking back into the lion’s den. I hope the rest of your siblings can appreciate what a badass you’ve turned out to be.” He gives his shoulder a small squeeze. “You’re not that eighteen year old kid anymore. You’ve turned your life around, and they better be proud of you, how Allison and I are proud of you. And if they aren’t...then I guess it’s a good thing you’re coming right back, because you belong here, anyway.”
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Like this, like they are now. Klaus finds himself thinking that he'll have to thank Patrick for this one day, for being his friend like this. Best friend, really. He'd wager brother, even, if his family wasn't already so fucked up, so to drop him into that tier would be an insult. He's better and beyond.
"Yeah, we will." He breathes out a laugh, a hand reaching to grip one forearm, because who is Klaus without that constant state of motion. "We'll be back before you know it. Gotta put up a good face, after all."
He'll protect Allison, is what he wants to say. Klaus? He can deal with anything, and while he's sure Allison can, too, he knows his own tolerance for bullshit is much higher. It's when Patrick mentions how proud he is that Klaus looks away with another airy laugh. "Oh, come on now, don't start with the waterworks, it would be very embarrassing for Claire to see you cry. I'd have to tell her I turned down your offer of elopement and broke your heart. We can't have that."
He pulls his hand away, if only to run it back through his own hair, pushing it out of his face. "I can paint the picture for you now. When we go back, it'll be just as it was before we all left, except we're all bigger now. And probably more angry. More stupid, maybe. They'll see their brother the druggie and their sister the movie star. Luther might be the only one that knows I left, if Allison told him. Frankly, I could be dead in a ditch somewhere and no one would know the better. They'd roll their eyes and say ah, that's our Klaus. So I know what I'm going back to, darling, don't you worry your pretty little head. I've got Allison and Ben in my corner, after all, how could I possible lose? And she's got us."
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"You're right, she'll probably defend you, anyway," he says with a sigh, since he often jokes that Claire likes Klaus better than she likes her own parents. "I don't know if my ego can take that tonight."
He gives his shoulders a squeeze again before letting go. There's a sympathetic look on his face as he explains what he's expecting once they go home, although he can't quite help how he frowns when he mentions that that the others would just see him as the druggie. He hopes that he's wrong, but based on what he has heard, he wouldn't be all that surprised and he hates that part.
He hates everything about this, actually.
At the mention of Luther, there's a slight shift in his features and Patrick has to catch himself before he slips and clarifies that point to him. Allison hadn't told him, exactly. Patrick still remembers how she was after that phone call, years ago, when Luther decided to call her and ask her what the hell she had been thinking in taking Klaus to California. Because, of course, someone from the press had found out the news and had tried to make a quick buck out of it. Her assistant and PR rep had managed to nix the story (or so he thinks), but Allison had been so upset after that argument with Luther that it had taken Patrick almost an hour to calm her down, and even then it had hardly worked.
Unable to stay put, he walks over to serve the coffee that is now done brewing. "I'll worry until you're both back here," he clarifies with a small smirk. "But, you're right. I'm glad you'll keep each other company, at least."
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He doesn't want to leave. More than anything in the whole world, he doesn't want to return to a place that has no ability to see every step he's taken to get to where he is now.
Leaning against the island, he rests his hands on the top, fidgeting with the tips of his fingers, unsure of what to do with all the nervous energy he usually pours into his words and his work. But the coffee gives him something to do and he follows behind Patrick to gather up a mug for himself. He drinks from it immediately, ignoring the way it burns a path straight to his stomach.
"I'll look after her, I promise," he says finally, sighing. "Not like the difficult shit that waits for us at home will be any worse than the first twenty years of my life, so I'm well armed for anything at this point." He snorts into his cup before he takes another long drink from it.
Something in his gut tells him this trip won't just be a simple trip home for a funeral, though. He's not sure why he thinks that or why, but he's felt these pulls before, where he wakes with the sinking dread of another sibling leaving long before they announce it, where he wakes knowing that the doors of the Academy might lock behind him for good for the last time. These are things he knows, and something about the future leaves the same, warning pool of dread resting deep in his belly.
"I don't think I ever said it before, but I'm glad you decided to let me live in your spare room like a decrepit stepchild for a while there. I know it was touch and go there for a while because, wow, was I a hot mess and a half, but. Well, earning your trust was one of the best things that could have come from that twenty-something disaster, so."
Klaus raises one shoulder in a half shrug, eyes focused on his coffee before he dares look up and across from him. The dread in his stomach swirls sickly, and for the first time since his arrival in this place he feels real fear; the sudden, swift punch of something that forms a lump in his throat and threatens to wreck the strange pocket of peace he's found here in their home.
"Frankly, I'd probably be dead by now if both of you hadn't let me stay. Well, maybe. I have a funny habit of giving death the good old slip, so maybe not, but you know what I mean." He laughs and turns his mug between his palms, soaking up the warmth into cold hands.
"I don't know. Guess I lost my train of thought, really, but I just thought you should know that. Thank you, I think are the words I was trying for but they feel so trite and cheesy, ugh."
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Patrick knows, after all, how important Allison is to Klaus. He remembers when she was put on bed rest while she was pregnant, and one time that she had gotten hurt on set when a stunt went wrong, how Klaus’s entire focus shifted to his sister to make sure she’d be okay. So, really, Patrick has no concerns when it comes to whether or not Klaus will look after Allison. He’s more worried he’ll forget about himself, especially with everything going on.
He’s about to take a sip of his coffee, when Klaus’s words stop him short and for a moment he doesn’t know what to say. He’s touched by them, but there’s something in his tone that makes him uneasy. He’s not sure if he’s looking too much into it, or if he’s more unsettled about this situation than he’s letting on, but it feels too much like a goodbye and he hates it.
“I’m really glad you came to live with us,” he answers after a moment, eyes on him whether or not Klaus wants to look. He wants him to know he means it. It’s not just him trying to appease him or he nice about it when it feels like they’re about to jump over a precipice with no way of knowing what’s below them. “And I’m very thankful for the fact that you decided to trust me, too. Things may have been hard in the beginning, but I can’t imagine our family anymore without you in it. I don’t want to. You’re a big part of it, and I really hope you know that.”
Both Allison and Patrick have been trying for years to show it by including him in family vacations, pictures, getting his input about improvements on the house, decisions about Claire... For all intents and purposes, Klaus has become like a third parent to Claire, and it’s something that Patrick hadn’t decided lightly. He trusts him. He loves him as if he was his own brother.
“You may have been a disaster in your twenties, but...if you weren’t so great I wouldn’t appreciate you and have you here in the way that you are. You’re my family, Klaus. I’m glad things worked out the way they did.”
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"How could I not trust you, I mean look at that face," he gestures to Patrick, raising his eyes now to look the man in the face.
He's struck suddenly by how much he adores the man across from him, how much he adores the sweet little girl tucked into the bed down the hall, how much this life has restored the shattered, estranged pieces of his heart. He doesn't want to go. He knows for a fact that whatever waits for them back home will chew them up and spit them out, just like it always has. Nothing their father did ever came without a price.
"You and Claire and Allison are all I have," he says quietly, a fond smile on his face. "You're my family, and I'd very much like to keep it that way, thank you. I can't promise I won't make Claire into a miniature version of myself, but really I'd just be doing you both a favor."
It's easier to tease, to joke, to try and dismiss the welling pressure that points toward danger, that points toward something bad. "But we don't really say that stuff. You know, too busy being the good, old-fashioned men of the house," he swings an arm up in a flex, dropping his voice for dramatic effect. "Can't show those feelings around here. Sign'a weakness."
The energy rushes out of him on a sigh, however, and he brings the coffee cup to his lips, draining it. "So I just thought I should rip the band-aid off and say it."