Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Five was drunk—far too drunk. Admittedly, since being stuck in this damned hotel, he’d been drinking daily. But trying to down an entire bottle of tequila as a substitute for milk in his cereal? That was a new low, even for him. While it did technically line his stomach, it also managed to get him drunker faster than he anticipated.

Determined to finish his bowl of cereal, he wandered aimlessly through the hallways, spoon in hand. The muffled moans echoing from various corners of the hotel only soured his mood further.

Luther and Sloane, obviously. But a second set? From the stairwell?

He groaned in irritation, the self-loathing and loneliness already creeping in.

“Fuck sharing rooms with my siblings,” he muttered under his breath. He was well past the age where privacy should be a given, especially when facing his last 24 to 48 hours. Who knew where Klaus or Ben had disappeared to, but the thought of being stuck in that claustrophobic room, with them, made his skin crawl.

He stumbled into the lobby, his half-finished bowl of cereal clutched tightly in one hand. Without thinking, he set it down on the counter and leaned over, peering at the row of keys behind the desk. In one fluid—not graceful—motion, he hopped over the counter and snatched one at random.

Key in hand, his gaze caught on the tailor’s shop in the corner of the lobby. A mannequin stood proudly in the window, dressed in a sleek suit that Five couldn’t help but appreciate.

“Fuck it,” he muttered. Those two words had become his mantra for the night. Oblivion was coming, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it.

With a small stumble forwards, he blipped directly into the shop window, swaying as the tequila decided to remind him just how drunk he really was.

“Bad call,” he groaned, grimacing as he steadied himself against the display. His bleary eyes focused on the mannequin again, grabbing it by the shoulders. A second later, he was back outside the shop, stumbling as he landed hard on the marble floor. The mannequin clattered to the ground beneath him, splitting cleanly in half.

“Shit. Sorry,” Five mumbled, addressing the lifeless figure like it could respond. He heaved himself upright, wobbling as he bent down to scoop up the pieces. The legs tucked awkwardly under one arm, the torso under the other, and off he went, swaying his way toward the elevators.

His luck, as always, was atrocious. The key he’d swiped belonged to a room right next to the stairwell. The one currently occupied by a moronic couple who clearly didn’t know the meaning of discretion. 

He winced as the muffled noises grew louder with every step. The last thing he needed was for anyone to catch him like this—drunk and lugging around a broken mannequin like some kind of lunatic.

He was slightly annoyed at himself for how drunk he was. He could blip into the shop window no problem, as he could see where he was going, but into a hotel room was too much of a risk in this state.

Finally, he reached the door at the end of the hall, dropping the torso unceremoniously onto the floor as he fumbled for the key in his pocket. His coordination wasn’t exactly top-notch, and it took a few tries before he managed to unlock the door. The moment it swung open, he threw the legs inside with a clatter, scooped up the torso again, and haphazardly kicked the door shut behind him.

Now to figure out how to reassemble it... without puking on it.

Five picked up the two halves of the mannequin and carefully placed them on the bed. The torso had a decent-sized hole at the bottom, where it could connect to the legs. He paused, eyeing the metal bar sticking out from the top of the legs, then turned to glance at the empty chair in the corner of the room.

Running a hand through his messy hair, he straightened up. “Alright, buddy. Let’s make this work.”

He grabbed the torso, wobbling slightly as he lifted it, and positioned it in the chair. The legs, he decided, wouldn’t do.

They’d only get in the way of seating this fine gentleman properly.

Satisfied with his placement, Five stepped back to admire his new roommate. The lifeless form sat stiffly in the chair, its head tilted slightly forward, as if listening intently.

“Care for a drink?” Five asked, glancing at the minibar tucked beneath the desk. He knew exactly how insane he sounded, but what did it matter? In a day or two, none of this would matter—to him or anyone else on this doomed planet.

He retrieved two glasses and poured a generous whiskey into each. Sliding one across the desk toward his silent companion, Five raised his own glass in a mock toast.

“So, what was it like being sized up for different suits every month or so?”

Unsurprisingly, there was no response. He hadn’t expected one. Only Dolores had ever talked back to him—and even then, that had been in his head.

“Well, if you’re not into small talk…” He tipped his head back, draining his glass in one swift motion. “We’ll get straight to it.”

Setting the glass aside, Five returned to the mannequin and began stripping it of its formal attire. He pulled off the jacket first, placing it carefully onto the desk, followed by the waistcoat. The buttons of the shirt proved slightly trickier in his inebriated state, but eventually, he managed to free the torso of its clothing.

Once the mannequin was bare, Five plopped down onto the bed, pulling off his own shoes. He pulled off one of his socks.

“A sock,” he muttered. “Seems like the most sensible option for that… hole.”

Grimacing slightly at his own train of thought, he leaned over and stuffed the sock into the opening at the base of the torso, muttering something about practicality.

Satisfied with his drunken handiwork, Five stood just off of the bed, staring at his newly clothesless companion. “Well, buddy,” he slurred, “you’ve got the room, the drink, and the company. What more could you want?”

The mannequin, of course, remained silent, and Five—drunk, alone, and teetering on the edge of despair—laughed quietly to himself.

Five tugged his belt free from the loops of his trousers, tossing it aside with a metallic clatter. The last thing he needed was the damn thing jingling around while he worked. Concentrating on undoing the top button of his pants, he stumbled slightly, the room swaying with his drunken haze.

The loud bang of the door swinging open startled him, sending him toppling forward. His hands braced themselves on either side of his night’s entertainment, narrowly avoiding a full faceplant into the mannequin’s chest.

He didn’t want to turn around. He really, really didn’t. Anyone from his family walking in would be embarrassing enough, but when he heard her unmistakable snicker, he cursed his luck once more.

Of all people.

“Get out, Lila,” he said through gritted teeth, still facing the mannequin.

“And miss whatever fucked-up thing this is? Hell no.” Her voice was rich with amusement, the kind that came from finding prime blackmail material.

Five sighed deeply, finally glancing over his shoulder. She stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe, still in that sequin dress from earlier, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Out!” His tone was sharper now, though it lacked the authority he was aiming for, given his current predicament.

She raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Relax, I just saw the door open and needed a piss, alright? I’ll be out of your... whatever this is in two ticks.”

“Use another room!” Five snapped, shoving his hands into his pockets in a futile attempt to hide his situation. He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. Especially not her.

“This one was closer,” she said with a shrug, taking a deliberate step further inside. “And the door was open. I simply thought some poor couple got kugelblitzed mid-step, unlocking their door. Certainly wasn’t expecting to find you about to get... cozy with a mannequin.”

Her eyes scanned the scene with mock scrutiny before landing on the sock protruding from the torso. She let out a delighted laugh. “Is that a sock?”

“Leave. Now.” Five’s voice dropped into a low growl as he straightened, stepping closer. “You’ve got maybe two days left on this earth. Don’t make it shorter.”

Lila’s grin only widened. “Sure, I’ll go. Back to your idiot brother, yeah? Round three’s calling.”

Five grimaced, hating the mental image that painted.

“But,” she added, her voice dropping slightly as she took a step closer, “it doesn’t have to be him.”

“I’m not interested in sloppy seconds, Lila,” he retorted, his tone cold. “Or thirds, in this case.”

“Please,” she said, dismissing his remark with a wave of her hand. “There’s a shower in the bathroom. You wouldn’t know, but wouldn’t you like to find out what an actual woman feels like before we all bite the dust?”

She closed the distance between them, her gaze locking on his. For a moment, her teasing demeanour softened as she tilted her head. “When did you get a growth spurt, pipsqueak?”

“Apparently, my body’s aging rapidly,” he replied, standing his ground despite the alcohol making his balance precarious. “Likely catching up to my real age. Outgrew my uniform in 28 days. If I had to guess, I’d say I’m about eighteen now, physically.”

“And still a boring old fart in your head, huh?” she quipped, smirking as she poked him on the nose. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and headed for the bathroom.

“The exit is the other door, Lila!”

“Shut up, Five. Let me piss in peace. I don’t want a UTI, even if the world’s ending.”

The bathroom door slammed shut, leaving Five standing there with a scowl—and a mannequin stuffed with a sock.

Five rubbed his face with one hand, exhaling in exasperation. He slumped onto the bed, his gaze fixed on the bathroom door, willing her to finish up and leave. But instead of the flush of a toilet, he heard the unmistakable hiss of the shower turning on. He rolled his eyes. Of course, she wouldn’t listen to him. When did she ever?

The bathroom door creaked open, catching him off guard. The sound of water running continued in the background as Lila strode into the room, her presence commanding as always.

“Unzip me,” she said, her tone not so much a request as an order. Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel, sweeping her hair aside to reveal the zipper of her dress.

Five stared for a moment, then pushed himself up from the bed. His movements were sluggish, the alcohol still fogging his head, but he managed to pull the zipper down.

The dress slid off her, pooling around her feet like liquid ink. Lila made no effort to hold it up or preserve her modesty, instead walking away with casual indifference, leaving Five staring at the crumpled garment.

It took him a moment to register the absence of undergarments, his stomach twisting at the thought of where she might have discarded them. Scowling, he bent to pick up the dress, slinging it over the back of a chair.

His thoughts betrayed him.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to their fight in the bathhouse days ago. How she’d been just as naked then, her sharp tongue matching her audacity. How he’d brushed off her teasing, claiming his type was someone less likely to kill him. But now, as he stood in the dimly lit room, he couldn’t ignore the truth.

Someone who could match him, who could challenge him, who could drag him into chaos without hesitation—that was exactly his type.

But she was with Diego.

His brother.

A brother who, along with the rest of the world, wouldn’t exist in just a few hours.

The shower shut off, breaking his thoughts. He turned to the bathroom door, his gaze steady as it creaked open once more.

Lila stepped out, utterly unabashed, her damp platinum hair curling at the ends and water droplets glistening on her skin. A bead of water trailed down her collarbone, past her breasts, before dripping onto the floor. His eyes betrayed him, sweeping over her unapologetically bare form.

Her smile was maddening, sharp and playful, the same one she wore when she convinced him to get electrocuted in a cupboard. The same one she had when she ruffled his hair earlier that evening, arm slung casually around his shoulders. Those hands which lead him to the dance floor. He hadn’t pushed her off then.

Why hadn’t he pushed her off?

“Fuck it,” he grumbled under his breath, his resolve snapping.

He stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he met her eye level.

“What about Diego?” he asked, his voice low, a hint of accusation lacing his words.

“What about him?” she replied, her tone dismissive. “He’s probably passed out on the stairs by now.”

He nodded slightly, feeling her arms snake around his neck.

“So,” she purred, leaning in closer, “got any idea what you want to do with me?”

Her gaze flicked to the mannequin on the bed, a smirk curling her lips. “I mean, I’m not against a threesome, but that’s a bit much, even for me.”

His jaw clenched as he shoved her back. She stumbled, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but he wasn’t paying attention.

Marching to the bed, Five yanked the sock out of the mannequin’s torso and stuffed it into his pocket before grabbing the dismembered body. Without a word, he opened the door, tossing the piece into the hallway. He returned to fetch the remaining part, his movements sharp and deliberate, before slamming the door shut and locking it.

When he turned back to Lila, his eyes were dark, his expression unreadable.

He closed the distance between them in two strides, grabbing her arm and spinning her around before pushing her onto the bed. Her legs dangled off the edge as he planted himself firmly between them.

“This is what you want?” he asked, his voice flat, almost daring her to deny it.

Her grin didn’t falter. “Sure,” she replied easily. “But warm me up first, you little shit. Just flushed out all my natural lubricant.”

His eye twitched at her bluntness, but it didn’t stop him. Lila went to sit up and to help him with his trousers but Five pushed her back down forcefully before her hands could get close. He undid his trousers, taking them off along with his boxers.

She propped herself up on her elbows, her eyes dropping to his now-unclothed bottom half. The smile she wore was infuriating, filled with mischief and anticipation.

“C’mon, off with the top half,” Lila teased, her smirk widening as Five glared at her.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. He didn’t want to—not really. It was just another thing for her to poke fun at, another detail she’d latch onto and twist into some biting remark. His ink was fresh and still a bit itchy, a stark reminder of yet another thing he did to try and save his damn family.

With a sharp exhale, he reached for his tie, tugging it loose. The waistcoat followed, discarded onto the growing pile of clothes littering the floor. Button by button, he unfastened his shirt.

Her eyes widened the moment she saw it.

“Holy shit, Five. You got ink?” Her smirk faltered, her expression shifting to something more thoughtful as she leaned in to take a closer look. Then, as if a lightbulb went off, she narrowed her gaze. “Wait... didn’t the Commission version of you have that?”

Five rolled his eyes as his shirt joined the rest of the discarded garments. His hands moved to her thighs, gripping her with enough force drag her down closer, his irritation evident.

“Lila,” he said flatly, his fingers digging into her skin. “Do you want to talk about timeloops, or do you want to fuck?”

His bluntness silenced her, but he caught her eyes scanning him again. He knew that look. She wasn’t just admiring the ink—she was cataloguing every mark, every scar, every imperfection. The pink scar on his shoulder, the shrapnel wound on his side—souvenirs from the last thirty odd days. He could see it, she was searching for something, anything she might have left behind.

Frustrated, Five tightened his grip on her thighs, making her wince. “My eyes are up here, Lila,” he quipped, giving his signature half smirk knowing it would piss her off.

“And my cunt is down there,” she snapped back, her tone dripping with challenge. “Drier than the Saharan desert, so do something about it.”

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before his gaze flicked downward. Despite her words, the slight glisten she was already producing, told a different story.

Of course, she would never admit it.

He dropped to his knees, his hands spreading her thighs further apart. His thumbs pressed against her folds, parting her just enough before he leaned in, his tongue diving in deep.

Her breath hitched sharply, telling him that she likely wasn’t expecting that as his first move so he retreated, licking upwards. Five’s tongue flicked against her clit, circling in slow, deliberate motions. Different moans escaped her, but he liked that first one. Five wondered if he could surprise her again.

He retreated just for a moment, licking two of his fingers before returning to her, resuming the same motions with his tongue. He worked methodically, learning the rhythm that made her squirm. Once he was sure she was content, he slid his fingers into place, in one swift motion.

Her sharp inhale was exactly what he wanted.

It wasn’t pain—he’d heard those sounds from her before, and this wasn’t it. This was surprise, and he liked surprising her. He worked his fingers deeper, curling them inside her as his thumb circled her clit. Her muscles clenched around him, and he felt his own body respond, his arousal twitching.

The wet heat surrounding his fingers, the way her body reacted to every movement, made it harder to hold back. He swallowed hard, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to stay off the bed much longer. He wanted to be on it and in her.

As her breathing hitched and the tension in her body built, Five pulled his fingers free. They were soaked, a clear signal she was ready. Rising to his feet, he leaned over her, placing one hand on the mattress for balance while the other hovered near her face, showing off his success.

“What do you think about that?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, the faintest hint of his dimples appearing with his smirk.

Her response was immediate. She grabbed his wrist, pulling his fingers to her mouth and licking them clean. The deliberate swirl of her tongue sent a jolt through him as she released his fingers with a smug look.

Five’s expression darkened with intent as he moved swiftly, sliding his hands around her back and lifting her higher on the bed. Her head hit the pillow as he knelt between her legs. She reached for his arm, but he caught her wrist, pinning it to the mattress. When her other hand moved, he captured that one too.

“Fuck, Five,” she grinned, her tone dripping with mockery, “you that touch-deprived you won’t even let me give you a gentle rub?”

“Shut it,” he growled, leaning closer.

“Make me.”

Even in his drunken state, Five could hear the challenge in her voice, could guess exactly how she expected that to play out. But he wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction.

His eyes flicked down to her chest. Her nipples were already peaked, begging for his attention. Leaning in, he captured one with his teeth, biting rough enough to make her gasp—a sound that was equal parts pain and pleasure.

When she moaned, he softened, switching to licking and sucking to soothe the slight sting. He kissed his way to the other breast, his lips brushing over her damp skin. This time, he was gentler, flicking his tongue against her nipple.

That’s when he noticed.

There were no marks on her. Her breasts, her neck—nothing. For someone who claimed to have already gone two rounds earlier, there wasn’t a single trace of Diego’s touch. No love bites, no tell-tale signs of passion.

Had she been wearing her dress the whole time? Was Diego lazy, or just not interested in taking his time? The thought made him pause, if only briefly, before shaking it off.

It didn’t matter, right now, she was his to claim.

He wasn’t going to leave marks, as much as branding her seemed amusing, he also didn’t need his last day or so alive to be in a punch up with his brother.

He let his body settle against hers, their skin flush together. The heat of another person surprised him—warmer than he’d expected, warmer than he felt himself. The contact sent a shiver through him, and he stifled the pathetic moan that nearly escaped his lips as his cock rested against her, hard and heavy. He allowed himself one small, involuntary buck before catching his breath.

His hands released her wrists, trailing down to her breasts, kneading them with purpose. He didn’t want to look at her—not really. Didn’t want to see those big brown eyes staring back at him, or the curve of her lips, half-parted and enticing.

This wasn’t about feelings.

This was sex.

A way to get off.

But he would make damn sure they both did.

“Five, get in!” Lila’s voice snapped him from his thoughts, sharp and impatient.

He didn’t respond, didn’t meet her gaze, but instead looked down between them. Precum glinted at his tip, and he knew he was ready—maybe too ready. Despite the lack of extra stimulation, the anticipation was unbearable. He hoped the alcohol would dull his sensitivity, because at the rate he was going, he wasn’t sure how long he could last.

A mannequin wouldn’t laugh or judge. She, on the other hand…

He shoved the thought aside and lifted his hips, watching as Lila parted her legs for him, adjusting herself. His hand gripped his shaft as he tried to line himself up, but the angle wasn’t quite right.

Shit.

He braced for her to snigger, for some biting remark to come his way, but instead, her hand moved over his, steadying him. His first instinct was to bat her away, but he didn’t. Her touch didn’t ignite the irritation he expected—it was steadying and something about it soothed the frustration.

Lila shifted her hips beneath him, her hand guiding him down until she had him lined up. She gave him the slightest tug, and he responded instinctively, his hands finding her hips as he pushed forward. Slowly. Carefully.

A minute ago, he might have been rougher, but something about her silence, her lack of taunting, softened his approach. He sank into her, inch by inch, feeling the heat and tightness engulf him.

Her hand started to move away, reaching for the bed or someplace else, but he caught it mid-motion, grabbing her wrist once more. His other hand followed, finding her other one and bringing them both up to pin them by her head.

Lila blinked up at him, her expression a mix of challenge and something softer, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak. He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, building a rhythm that left no room for words.

The sound of their breathing filled the room, ragged and heavy. Five buried himself into her neck, his grip tightening around her wrists as his hips worked steadily against hers.

He tried shifting her into different positions as much as he could while still keeping her pinned. Her legs wrapped around his waist at times, then shifted to his sides, her movements fluid and enticing. But nothing was pulling the same moans from her as before. Frustration began to bubble up as he released his hold on her wrists, letting his hands slide down to grip her hips. He adjusted her slightly, angling them into a new position, hoping this would work.

There.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as he hit just the right spot. That sound. It lit something in him, urging him to keep going. He stayed with the angle, hesitant to switch things up now that he’d found what worked. But as much as it felt good, as much as she seemed to enjoy it, it wasn’t enough to push her over the edge.

Irritation crept in again, and he dipped his head, his lips brushing against her ear. He needed more, needed her to tell him how to take this further.

“Where or how do you want me?” His voice was rough, raw.

He felt her cheek brush against his, warm and teasing. She was smiling—no, smirking. Regret prickled at the back of his mind for asking, but then her legs tightened around his waist, and her arms looped around his neck.

“Roll.”

Without hesitation, Five pressed himself as close to her as possible and rolled them over, landing her on top. His back hit the mattress, and he found himself staring up at her. He couldn’t look away, not this time. Her grin was almost unnerving as she began to roll her hips against him, taking him fully, moving with a confidence that made his head spin.

He scanned the side tables quickly for anything sharp or blunt she might reach over and grab but short of a lamp, there was nothing threatening in reach. But then her hands moved to pin his by his head, intertwining her fingers with his. She leaned down, her face mere inches from his, and he could feel every motion, every deliberate movement as she rode him base to tip.

Her hips lifted and slammed down again, each motion pulling soft moans from his lips. The loss of control, her in control—it sent a shiver through him. His eyes fluttered shut as he bucked beneath her, relishing the pressure and the way she dominated the moment.

He felt her tighten around him, her movements becoming erratic as she reached one hand down between her legs, chasing her own climax. The clenching grew more intense, and he knew he was close. His restraint snapped as he yanked his hand free, gripping her hips and thrusting up into her as much as her control would allow.

Their release came almost simultaneously, leaving them both breathless and spent. Her body trembled against his as she slowly stilled, her hand retreating as she collapsed onto him, her head nestling against his neck. He should push her off, should reclaim the space between them, but his arms wrapped around her damp back instead, holding her close.

A contented sigh escaped him before her voice shattered the moment.

“So, now you’ve cum in me—”

“Don’t,” Five snapped, his breath still uneven.

“Don’t what?”

“Be crude.”

She let out a soft, mocking laugh, pulling herself off of him with a deliberate slowness. The sensation of their combined release dripping onto his stomach made his muscles tense, but she didn’t seem to care. She rolled onto her back, looking as though she might tumble off the bed entirely when his hand shot out, grabbing her arm and pulling her back.

Her body landed against his in something that almost resembled a cuddle. He could feel her stiffness, her hesitation, but it didn’t last long. They shifted, finding some semblance of comfort together, and he caught the faint tug of a smile forming on her lips.

“Ask,” Five said bluntly, cutting through the silence.

“Ask what?” She feigned innocence, her voice light and teasing.

“What your messed-up brain is thinking.”

Her grin widened as she turned her head toward him. “Was I better?”

“Dumb question.”

“Then give me your dumb answer.”

“Of course, doll,” he muttered, his voice tinged with sarcasm but carrying just enough sincerity to keep her satisfied.

Chapter Text

They weren’t sure how they’d gotten there. The siblings blinked, their gazes darting around the cramped elevator. Five frowned, trying to piece together the sequence of events. Allison had pressed a button, and now, somehow, they were... here.

Ding.

The doors slid open, revealing a dimly lit park. They stepped out cautiously, one by one, confusion etched on every face.

Viktor took the lead, spinning around and freezing, as his gaze landed on someone entirely unexpected.

“Luther?” Viktor’s voice cracked. “Luther!”

He shoved past the others, nearly tripping in his haste.

“Holy shit, you can see me?” Luther exclaimed, his eyes wide.

“Yes!” Viktor grinned, grabbing Luther’s arms.

“I’m alive? I’m alive!” Luther shouted, his disbelief melting into joy.

“Wait, that’s not all, big guy,” Lila interjected with a smirk.

Luther looked down at his arms, his jaw dropping. “Oh shit—my body! I look amazing!”

Klaus gestured flamboyantly. “Luther’s all svelte now.”

Grinning like the big goof he was, Luther clapped his hands. “Wait! I gotta show Sloane!”

That’s when Five noticed. He flexed his left hand, staring at it like it didn’t belong to him. His voice was barely a whisper. “I got my arm back.”

No one seemed to hear him, with everyone's attention on the tallest brother.

“This is so cool,” Luther’s excitement faltered, his head swivelling. “W-wait. Where’s Sloane?”

Klaus spun in a slow circle, looking equally baffled. “She was right behind me... when Allison hit the button.”

Diego scanned the park. “Allison is gone too.”

“Hey, you got your fingers back,” Lila noted, nodding toward Diego. Her hands, Five noticed, briefly grazed her stomach before falling to her sides. His sharp gaze narrowed, but Luther interrupted the thought, grabbing Five by the lapels of his suit and shaking him.

“Where is she, Five?!” Luther bellowed, his desperation cutting through the night air. “I don’t care about resets—I want my wife!”

Five’s cold glare deepened. “I’m glad you’re alive, but take your hands off me.” He said in a low warning tone.

“Not until you give me an answer!” Luther shook him harder, lifting him slightly off of the ground.

“Okay, screw this!” Five had had enough. He bared his teeth in frustration, his hands curling into fists. He tried to blink but nothing happened. No blue glow, no lurch in his gut—nothing.

“Something’s wrong,” Five muttered, slight panic slipping through his usual mask of calm.

“That’s right! You’re about to get your ass kicked!” Luther threatened.

“No, you moron.” Five shoved at Luther’s grip although it didn’t budge. “My power. It’s gone.”

The group silenced.

Diego dropped a knife mid-twiddle, Klaus spun aimlessly, pleading with ghosts who didn’t appear, and Viktor clenched his fists, his frustration mounting as no energy sparked in response.

“Does this mean I’m mortal?” Klaus’s voice wavered.

“How do we get them back idiots?!” Ben snapped, his glare cutting toward Five like it was his fault.

“Do I look like I have all the answers?” Five shot back, brushing off his jacket as Luther finally released him. His look flicked toward Lila, who stood motionless, her eyes unfocused.

Diego turned to Lila. “What does this mean?”

Lila’s lips quirked into a humourless smile. “It’s simple. This reset hit all of us. Our powers, our bodies—everything got rewired. But hey, on the bright side...” She paused, folding her arms. “You’re off the hook, Diego.”

Diego blinked, thrown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Lila said, taking a step back, “happy families just got cancelled. This reset sorted it for us.”

Lila turned to walk away but Diego's hand caught hers. “Wait, so you’re just walking off?”

“Look, it wasn’t going to work, we were just going to try because of a bun in the oven. Well, it’s no longer in there, so let’s call it quits.”

Lila hated everyone’s eyes on her so she yanked her arm as quickly as she could and without another word walked off, disappearing down one of the several paths.

Diego stared after her, torn between calling out and staying silent almost too shellshocked to say or do anything. No one went to comfort him. Everyone else in their own sense of panic. Luther who would have normally done so, shouted out “I need to find Sloane” before taking another path.

Klaus called out after his brother. “You’ve just come back to life! You need to be careful, you’re fragile!” Following him.

Ben who already seemed done with the situation as soon as they arrived simply called “I’m out,” walking away.

Diego looked at Viktor and Five and without a word stormed off in the opposite direction to Lila.

Viktor turned to Five, “someone should be with him.” Who then proceeded to follow Diego.

Five sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. “Why is it, every time something strange happens, everyone darts off…” he muttered to himself, taking another route, vagally in the direction Lila took.

It didn’t take long before the sound of retching reached his ears, followed by the unmistakable noise of someone being sick. Technically, it could have been anyone—this was a park late at night. Perhaps a drunk, maybe someone homeless but something compelled Five to follow the sound. He found her crouched against a tree, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“What the fuck do you want?” she snapped, not bothering to look at him.

Five shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets, unimpressed. “Trying to figure out why you lied back there.”

She straightened, meeting his gaze with a steely glare. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” Five’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You’re still pregnant, Lila.”

Her silence was damning, her lips staying in a tight line. “Like you have any moral high ground to question whether or not I am lying.  What’s next? You gonna waltz back there and tell Diego we fucked?”

Five tilted his head, his hard eyes fixed and unyielding. He didn’t want to bring up that night—what was there to say, really? He’d been completely drunk, out of his mind. He had assumed she’d forgotten about it too, but now, given her current state, it struck him for the first time: she hadn’t been drinking that night at all.

“C'mon, then," Five said, brushing past Lila. He didn’t get far before stopping to glance back over his shoulder, checking if she’d started to follow.

“Why the hell would I go with you?” Lila snapped, still standing her ground, leaning against the tree.

Five exhaled through his nose, already regretting his attempt at decency. “Because it’s late, it’s about to get cold, and—shockingly—I think we could all do with a shower and a bed.”

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Just because I mentioned fucking you a second ago, you think you can weasel your way back into bed with me? You are a perv.”

Five’s eye twitched, his patience evaporating. “Lila, I know it’s hard for you to comprehend, but I was actually just trying to be nice. Enjoy the cold.”

He turned sharply on his heel and strode off, hands still stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t look back.

“Wait!” Lila’s voice broke the stillness. Her hurried footsteps crunched through the grass as she caught up to him, matching his pace. “I dunno about you, but I don’t exactly have money for a hotel or anything.”

“I assumed.” Five kept walking, his tone dry. “Which brings us back to the whole ‘I was being nice’ part. But, tragically, the offer has now expired. Find yourself a park bench for all I care.”

Lila rolled her eyes, falling in step beside him anyway. “Alright, I’m sorry, but you can’t tell me you’ve actually got money.”

Five cast her a sideways glance. “Au contraire. My wallet’s still in my pocket, and assuming my bank account hasn’t been obliterated by this delightful reset, I did alright for myself. Working for the Commission actually paid decently. Somewhat surprisingly, Reginald created us all Roth IRAs and, unlike the rest of my family, I haven’t had any time to actually blow through mine on bad investments or questionable life choices.”

Lila huffed. “So, you’re not joking. You actually have money.”

“Enough for two rooms, I’m sure.” Five picked up the pace again, his tone brisk. “At least until we figure out whatever the hell this mess is.”

Lila fell silent for a beat, processing, before grinning to herself. “Aren’t you just full of surprises, grandpa.”

Five shot her a glare. “Call me that again and I’m leaving you here.”

She only smirked wider, following him down the path. “Lead the way, sugar daddy.”

Five groaned audibly.

---

The hotel was average, a beige-bricked building with a slightly weathered exterior but clean, functional signage. The lobby was pleasant enough, with a simple reception desk made of wood laminate and a few plush chairs set in cosy clusters. A large fake plant sat awkwardly in the corner, almost managing to brighten the otherwise neutral colour palette. Behind the desk, a small decorative clock ticked quietly, flanked by a few framed photos of the nearby city skyline at sunset.

Five walked up to the front desk, Lila trailing just behind him.

"Evening, do you have availability for two rooms for three nights?"

The receptionist smiled as she glanced down at her records. “We do. They’re adjoining rooms, so there will be a door between them that allows access without going into the hall, but you can lock it.”

“Sure. Fine,” Five replied quickly, not giving Lila a chance to make a snide remark.

“That’ll be $329, please.”

Five fished out his card and handed it over. The receptionist swiped it and passed it back.

“Okay, that’s all set. Here are your key cards. You’ll be in rooms 203 and 204, second floor. Stairs and elevator are right over there. Have a good stay.”

Five snatched up the keys. “Where’s your bar?”

“Just down the hall to the left. That’s also where breakfast will be served tomorrow between 7 and 10.”

“Thanks.” Five gave the desk a quick tap with the key cards and strode off without another word.

Lila frowned as she hurried after him. “Seriously? We just escaped the end of the world, and the first thing you think of is a drink?”

“I do some of my best thinking drinking.”

“Are you even gonna get served? This is America, not England.”

Five stopped, letting out a sharp, annoyed sigh as he turned to look at her. “I’ll sit in the back. You order for us. Take my card. Whiskey, double.”

Lila muttered something under her breath but took the card. He had just provided a roof over her head, after all. She figured she could humour him for one drink.

When they reached the bar area, Five found a small corner table in the back and sank into the seat. Lila went up to the bar and returned a few minutes later, balancing two drinks in hand. She slid the whiskey over to him, taking the seat across as she cradled a glass of ginger ale. Five gave the drink a pointed look.

“It’s meant to help with nausea,” Lila said with a shrug, swirling the glass lazily, handing back his card.

Five raised an eyebrow but said nothing, taking a sip of his drink.

“So three days here, huh.” Lila stated more than asked.

“I assume that’ll be enough time to figure out what’s going on with our powers, come up with next steps, and for you to make up with my idiot brother.” He gave one of his tight smiles.

“What makes you think I’ll go back to him?”

"Because you lied and told him you were through for a completely ridiculous reason." Five delivered the statement pointedly, hoping she’d focus solely on the pregnancy and not the fact that they’d slept together the other night. For him, it had been a lapse in judgment—a fleeting moment of weakness. But her reasons? He couldn’t begin to decipher them. Surely, it was nothing more than bad timing, him being overly desperate, and her being there to catch him at his lowest.

“We are still through, regardless of reason.”

Five set his glass down, narrowing his eyes at her. “Why? You that messed up you’d rather be a single mother than try with someone who might actually love you?”

“Again with the might.”

“Well, you don’t seem too certain yourself.”

Lila paused for a beat. “No. I think he does. In his own way… but over the last 24 hours, he’s shown me a few things.”

“Like what?”

“He doesn’t show me any respect.”

"Who does?" Five muttered into his drink, taking another sip. His mind drifted back to a few days ago—how she’d been leaning on Diego while they talked. The way Diego had abruptly stood, causing her to fall and hit her head on the sofa. Granted, it wasn’t a hard landing, more of an awkward one, but the lack of care Diego showed in that moment hadn’t gone unnoticed by himself.

“Actually, I was thinking you. You never once questioned if I should’ve been fighting with the rest of you.”

“In my defence I didn’t know you were pregnant.”

“Would it have changed your mind?”

“No. You actually fight better than most of those idiots.” He said flatly. “Plus you’ve had the same, if not more, training than me.”

Lila smirked. “See, at least you admit I’m better than you.”

“I said more training, not better.” Five shot her a sharp look over the rim of his glass as he grinned. “You think it’d be easier to be a single mom?”

“I don’t want someone telling me what I can and can’t do all the time. I get the feeling you guys having a robot for a mother and an abusive father might not have been the best role models.”

“Oh, but The Handler was?” Five quipped, his tone biting.

Lila’s jaw tensed, and her voice dropped. “No, but my birth parents would have been—if you hadn’t gone and killed them.”

Five’s eyes flicked down to the table, his grip on the glass tightened. He didn’t rise to it this time. No amount of ‘I’m sorry’ would ever be enough.

“You won’t be alone,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady. “You’ve got a family. Dysfunctional, sure, but what families aren’t? The kid will have uncles and maybe an aunt to help.”

Lila gave a small nod not looking at him now. Five assumed that the thought of still having some semblance of family, despite everything, likely felt far-fetched to her.

"I still think you need to tell him though.” Five leaned back in his chair crossing his leg over his knee, taking a more casual stance.

“To be fair, it could have just been residual hormones.” Lila's eyes betrayed the fact that she didn’t completely believe her own words.

“Have you been to a doctor yet?” Five’s tone shifted slightly, more serious now.

Lila shrugged, tracing her finger along the rim of her glass. “I found out in Berlin. I was there for a while, and… to be honest, I probably partied a bit too hard before I knew.” She bit her bottom lip, eyes flicking to the ginger ale in front of her. Five noticed—she cared more than she was letting on, and whatever partying happened, it had clearly stopped the moment she found out.

“I should be about twelve weeks,” she admitted quietly. “Could be a proper baby now. No longer some weird alien-looking thing.”

Five gave a small nod, his voice even. “It doesn’t get much from you until about ten weeks when the placenta takes over. Sure, alcohol and drugs aren’t ideal, but if you stopped early, it should be fine.”

Lila raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly. “Look at you. Should I start calling you Dr. Five now?” Her tone still had its usual bite, but the gratitude beneath it wasn’t hard to miss. “Since when did you get so knowledgeable about baby-making?”

The act… only a night or so ago Five thought absentmindedly. “During the first apocalypse, I read everything I could—especially medical textbooks.”

“There’s something really depressing about you saying first apocalypse.”

“Yeah; and who knows where we are now.” Five scanned the quiet bar. “Future me told me to sit this one out. Don’t save the world. And yet…” He gestured subtly at the space around them, “…this all looks far too calm and normal. Minus the powers and,” his gaze shifted back to Lila, “the company.”

Lila smirked. “You say that, but we both know you love a new adventure. And teaming up with me? Admit it—it’s a pattern now.”

Five tilted his glass towards her. “Can’t argue there.”

They finished their drinks, the quiet settling comfortably between them. Five could’ve gone for another, but restraint seemed sensible tonight. He glanced at his watch: 11:23 PM.

“Shower and bed,” he muttered under his breath, sliding Lila’s room key across the table to her before standing up.

The walk to their rooms was silent, the hallway empty except for the sound of their footsteps. At her door, Five gave a brief nod—nothing more—and slipped into his room.

Turning on the main light, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the far wall as his thoughts spiralled. Whatever this world was, either his older self hadn’t seen it coming, or he had—and knew it would all end in disaster.  Five sighed, rubbing his temples as the beginnings of a headache formed.

Pulling himself up, he stripped off his suit, hanging it neatly before turning on the bathroom light and stepping into the shower. The water was warm, and for a few minutes, it helped.

After drying off and pulling on his boxers, Five checked the adjoining door to Lila’s room. The bolt was already slid across on his side. He left it alone.

His gaze shifted to the coffee station across the room: two small packets of cookies sitting beside a coffee machine. Five hesitated, his expression darkening slightly. Food. It always made him pause—leftover instincts from the first apocalypse. Food had been scarce, scavenged, and every meal had felt like both a gift and a gamble.

He picked up the cookies, turning them over in his hands, weighing his options. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast—a bowl of cereal after the wedding—and there was no guarantee he’d make it to breakfast tomorrow. If another apocalypse started during the night, he’d either die or wake up to scavenge again. Neither scenario felt entirely implausible.

Sitting back down on the bed, Five finally opened the cookies. He chewed slowly, deliberately, each bite a measured choice rather than a simple act of hunger.

When the last bite was gone, he set the empty wrapper aside and leaned against the headboard. If luck was on his side, he’d wake up to a decent breakfast downstairs. If not… well, he’d made his peace with either outcome. Over the past few days, death had become a concept he’d grown uncomfortably familiar with. Not in any poetic or profound way—copious amounts of alcohol had seen to that—but familiar nonetheless.

Reaching over, Five turned off the main light, leaving a soft glow coming from the bathroom's. Then he lay down, eyes closed, waiting for either tomorrow or nothing at all.

---

The morning came, partly to Five’s mild disappointment. Dying in his sleep would have been peaceful, clean—no fuss. But when he opened the curtains, everything outside was still stubbornly intact. The world continued on, unbothered. He sighed, turned off the bathroom light and started getting dressed. Before leaving the room, he clenched his fists a few times, confirming, as expected, that his powers hadn’t miraculously returned overnight.

By the time he made his way downstairs for breakfast, Five was surprised to see Lila already seated at a table, tucking into a generous spread clearly meant for two. She was halfway through demolishing a plate of toast and bacon. For a split second, the corner of Five’s mouth twitched into something resembling a smile—gone as quickly as it came.

He walked over, sliding his jacket off and hanging it on the back of the chair across from her. “Are you planning to leave anything for anyone else?” he quipped, though he’d already scanned the room. The buffet was overflowing—no risk of scarcity here.

“Shove off,” Lila shot back around a mouthful of food, barely glancing up at him.

Five exhaled sharply through his nose in mild amusement before making his way to the buffet. As he scanned the options, he instinctively weighed practicality against indulgence. Pancakes, sausages, omelettes—the sort of food that getting use to would expand his stomach. He opted for a bowl of cereal. Plentiful, and easy to scavenge if—or when—the next apocalypse hit, even if the milk wasn’t.

He returned to the table, setting the bowl down in front of him.

“Out of all the food up there, you go for that?” Lila scoffed, gesturing with her fork at his unassuming meal.

Five shrugged, stirring the cereal with the spoon. He didn’t owe her an explanation.

“What’s the plan today?” Lila asked after a moment, breaking the silence.

“I want to check out the academy here,” Five replied simply. “See what’s going on.”

Lila raised an eyebrow, tearing into another bite of toast. “The academy? You really think that’s a good idea? Might not even exist in this timeline.”

“Exactly why I want to look,” Five countered, calmly. “If it does exist, we might be looking at another group like the Sparrows. If it doesn’t…” He trailed off, his gaze distant for a moment before flicking back to her. “Either way, answers.”

Lila leaned back in her chair, eyeing him thoughtfully. “You’re always chasing answers, aren’t you?”

Five didn’t respond immediately, instead lifting a spoonful of cereal and eating it mechanically. Finally, he said, “Someone has to.”

Chapter Text

The walk from the hotel to the academy was longer than Five had anticipated. The crisp morning air was a welcome contrast to the lingering haze of the night before, but it did little to ease his ever-present tension. The city was quieter than Five expected, a lull that put him on edge. Lila noticed how his gaze darted to every alleyway and shadow.

“Ever considered not trying to find what’s wrong and just enjoying the moment?” Lila asked, breaking the silence. She walked on the inside of the pavement, leaving Five closest to the road—a detail that didn’t escape her.

“I’ve spent the last 32 days diving from one apocalypse to another. You really expect me to think this one’s safe?” he shot back, his eyes still scanning the streets.

“You got your arm back, didn’t you? Maybe it’s the universe’s way of saying you can finally stop.”

Five’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening. “I thought that when we got back from Dallas. Fool me once, etcetera. It just means the loop has closed. Maybe for now, maybe permanently. But we’re still missing Sloane and Allison.”

“Well,” she said, her voice softening slightly, “that’s one of the reasons we’re going to the academy, right?”

“Precisely,” Five replied, a clipped edge to his tone.

The rest of the walk passed in silence, the city’s muted sounds filling the space between them. When the academy finally came into view, both of them paused. The imposing structure loomed in the distance, derelict and crumbling. Once-grand facades were marred by decay—windows boarded up or shattered, ivy consuming the walls like a slow-moving parasite. The building radiated neglect.

“This doesn’t look promising,” Lila remarked, voicing what they were both thinking.

Five didn’t respond, his focus narrowing as they approached. His steps grew more deliberate, each one echoing faintly on the cracked pavement. The front door hung slightly ajar, its creak loud and grating as Five pushed it open.

Inside, the air was damp and heavy, carrying the faint metallic tang of decay. Narrow shafts of light filtered through the boarded windows, casting jagged patterns on the debris-strewn floor. The once-pristine academy hall was now a graveyard of overturned furniture, shattered glass, and peeling paint.

“Not exactly home sweet home, is it?” Lila quipped, kicking a piece of crumbled wall across the room.

“No,” Five replied flatly, his eyes skimming the space, running the details against the previous two academies he had seen.

“Come on,” he said after a moment, gesturing for her to follow. His voice carried authoritative tone she’d come to expect.

Lila followed, her usual bravado tempered by the eerie atmosphere. As they moved further into the ruins of the mansion, the absence of familiar markers became increasingly apparent. The walls were bare, devoid of family photos or paintings. It was as if the building had never served as a home to either the Umbrellas or Sparrows.

“She’s not here,” a voice said suddenly, cutting through the silence and making them both jump.

“Fuck, Luther!” Lila hissed, spinning around to see him standing in the doorway. “You know how to make a girl jump.”

Five tried to mask his own surprise, shaking his head dismissively. “Came here to look for her?” he asked, his eyes drifting back to the empty walls.

“Of course,” Luther replied, stepping into the room. “I thought it might be like last time and the Sparrows would be here. I came straight away last night.”

“Did you sleep here?” Lila asked, her tone softening as she took in Luther’s dishevelled appearance.

“Yeah. Didn’t know where else to go,” Luther admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice lacked the anger it carried the night before, replaced by a quiet desperation. “Do you have any other ideas where to look, Five?”

For a moment, Five felt a pang of sympathy for his brother. It passed quickly. “Not at present,” he said. “Did anyone else come here with you?”

“Klaus has crashed upstairs,” Luther replied. “Still asleep, I think.”

“Did you find any sign of Reginald being or raising anyone here?” Five pressed.

“No. The rooms are pretty bare, nothing like how they were for us. I think it’s just an old, abandoned building. Klaus tried raiding Dad’s office for booze, but the place is empty.” Luther hesitated before adding, “Five, what do we do next?”

Five sighed, glancing around the dilapidated hall one last time. “I don’t know, Luther. None of this makes sense. You should be dead, I should be missing an arm, and Allison and Sloane should be here. But they’re not. For now, I think it’s clear we’re not getting any more answers from this place.”

He rolled a piece of gravel under his shoe before starting to head toward the door, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Where are you going?” Luther called after him.

“Grounding myself,” Five replied curtly, not bothering to look back. “Finding things I can control and dealing with them.”

“Which is?”

Five didn’t answer. He kept walking, his steps sharp and purposeful, as if the momentum alone could keep his thoughts from spiralling. Behind him, Lila gave Luther a small shrug and a half-hearted wave before trailing after Five.

He knew it probably seemed cold—detached, even—but lingering wasn’t going to solve anything. Searching for answers amid chaos and half-baked family dynamics had never been his strength. It wasn’t so different from when he first came back, decades older but clinging to the hope that his family might live up to the idealised versions he’d carried in his head.

They hadn’t.

Instead of a world-saving force, he’d found them to be…ordinary. Flawed. Predictably human in their selfishness and unpredictability. Sure, they’d shaped up a little over the last twenty days, but they still felt more like a volatile variable than a reliable constant.

And right now, Five was drowning in possibilities. He had no clue what was really going on, and the sensation of being in the dark—adrift in uncertainty—ate away at him like acid. He needed clarity. Control.

“So,” Lila’s voice broke through his thoughts as they stepped outside once more, “what’s this brilliant plan you didn’t want to share with Luther?”

“Getting you to a clinic,” Five said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Lila stopped, staring at him incredulously. “And who the hell said you get to dictate when I do that?”

“Me, I.” Five shot back turning to face her, his tone sharp with urgency. “I am the one who’s worried that another apocalypse could start any day, hour or minute and I need to know if we’re dealing with just you—or if there’s more we need to factor in.”

Lila’s frustration flared, her fists tightening at her sides. She wanted to tell him where to shove his tone, but deep down, she knew he had a point. Right now, it felt like Schrödinger’s pregnancy—an unbearable uncertainty gnawing at her, and the only way to put it to rest was to confirm it.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice tight. “But don’t think this means you’re in charge.”

Five smirked. “Sure, whatever helps you do what I say.”

As they walked, Lila glanced over at him. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was something different in his demeanour—a new type of tension. For all his bravado, he was worried.

And, truthfully, so was she.

---

As they neared the mother and baby clinic, Five broke the silence. “Do you really want to do this without Diego?” he asked, his tone softer than earlier.

Lila hesitated but then nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

The clinic loomed ahead, a nondescript building with soft pastel walls and frosted glass windows. Inside, the waiting room buzzed with quiet activity. Couples sat side by side, some speaking in hushed tones, along with single mothers were scattered throughout. Some mothers bouncing restless toddlers on their laps, others staring blankly into space.

Lila, despite herself, felt a flicker of gratitude that Five was there beside her. His presence was steady, even if his manner often teetered between aloof and intense. It was better than being here alone.

Approaching the reception desk, Lila cleared her throat. “I need a walk-in appointment.”

The receptionist barely glanced up as she handed over a clipboard. “Fill this out and bring it back when you’re done. Then take a seat. It might be a while. Payment is due when you hand the clipboard back.”

Grabbing the paperwork, Lila turned back to Five, who had already claimed two seats in the corner. She sat down beside him, the pen poised in her hand. The form was straightforward but invasive, each question a small jab of reality.

When Lila finished, she gave a shy glance towards Five biting the bottom of her lip. Nothing in state was free when it came to medical care and he wasn’t stupid to presume this would be either. He took the clipboard and placed a card under the clip handing it back over. He didn’t look amused which only made Lila want to withdraw even more.

“Thank you. Take a seat again, and we’ll call you when we’re ready,” the receptionist said, her tone mechanical.

Returning to her seat, Lila crossed her arms and leaned back, tension etched across her face. Five noticed and, in an uncharacteristic attempt, decided to try start a conversation. Looking for inspiration his eyes landed on the clock, ticking away in front of them.

“Did you know the word "clock" comes from the Old Irish word clocc and the Medieval Latin word clocca, both of which mean "bell"”

Lila raised an eyebrow. “That’s your small talk?”

“Would you prefer silence?”

“You’re shit at this, Five.”

He smirked faintly. “Apocalypses don’t leave much room for chitchat.”

Lila let out a breath that might have been a laugh. “Yeah, alright. Fair point. But maybe stick to something less… weird.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Noted.”

Their brief exchange fell into a more comfortable silence. Lila tapped her foot impatiently, her eyes flicking to the clock every few minutes. Five sat still as stone, occasionally glancing at her but saying nothing.

Finally, a nurse appeared in the doorway, paperwork in hand. “Lila Pitts?”

Lila stood. She glanced down at Five, who remained seated.

“You’re not coming?”

“No,” he replied firmly, his hands folding, resting in his lap. “I’ll wait out here.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, her eyes suspiciously glassy. She took a deep breath, as though steeling herself. Five watched her walk away, noticing the slight hesitation in her step. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he should have gone with her.

But what would he have done? Held her hand? Played the supportive partner? No, that wasn’t his role, and he wouldn’t pretend otherwise. This wasn’t about sentiment; it was a problem to address, another variable to analyse before they plunged headfirst into the next inevitable crisis.

As the door swung shut behind her, Five leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes briefly. He’d figure this out, just like everything else. Methodically. Calculated. He just needed to know all the variables.

Time felt like it stretched and Five felt more twitchy as it went on. Him sitting back in his chair with his hands in his lap changed to his leg coming up across his knee. Fingers moved and started tapping on the arm rest. He wasn’t sure how long these checks took. Was a long amount of time a good thing or a bad thing? Surely if there was nothing there they would have carted her out by now. Or is she so much of a mess they can’t get her to leave the room.

Shit. He should have just gone in with her.

From across the room, another man—seemingly also waiting alone—caught Five’s eye and offered a weak, sympathetic smile. Five frowned in response, turning his gaze elsewhere. No, they weren’t in the same boat. Whatever was going on here didn’t involve him, not really.

Before he could spiral further, the door to the examination rooms opened, and Lila appeared. Her eyes were red and puffy, her shoulders slumped under the weight of whatever had just transpired. She stopped in front of him, her voice small and fragile. “Let’s go.”

Five was on his feet instantly, moving ahead of her. He opened the door, holding it for her as she passed through, and followed her out into the street.

The walk was silent. Five wasn’t even sure where they were going, the city blurring into a background of indistinct buildings and passing cars. Lila’s pace was steady but unhurried, her expression unreadable as she kept her eyes fixed ahead.

He wanted to ask her, wanted to know what had happened, but even he wasn’t socially inept enough to broach the subject bluntly. There was something about her quiet resolve that made him bite his tongue, as much as it grated on him to do so.

They passed the third coffee shop since leaving the clinic, the smell of roasted beans wafting out onto the sidewalk. Five stopped abruptly in front of it, his head tilting slightly as he glanced toward the sign. Lila, noticing he wasn’t beside her, stopped a few steps ahead and looked over her shoulder.

Five raised a hand, his thumb pointing toward the cafe.

She hesitated, then gave a small nod.

Lila immediately made her way to a table by the window, dropping into the chair and staring out at the street. She didn’t so much as glance in Five’s direction. He exhaled sharply, debating whether to ask if she wanted anything before heading to the counter.

He didn’t have to get her anything. Still, he ordered a decaf coffee—white, with sugar on the side—and a plain, black, strong roast for himself. Returning to the table, he slid the coffee and sugar packets across to her without comment.

“Thanks,” she muttered, tearing open three packets and dumping them all in before stirring half-heartedly.

Five lowered himself into the chair, his eyes never leaving her. She stared out at the street, her fingers running absently along the rim of her cup. The silence stretched, and his patience wore thinner with each passing second. He sifted through potential openings, discarding one after another for being too blunt, too sharp. Subtlety had never been his strength, but he gave it a try, settling on what seemed like the safest approach.

“How did it go?” he asked, his tone as neutral as he could manage.

Lila didn’t answer. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small white envelope, sliding it across the table to him. Five raised an eyebrow, taking it, opening and pulling the small piece of paper.

He sighed, unsure it was relief or dread, as he pulled out an ultrasound image. The grainy picture showed a perfectly human-looking baby curled up in the black and white void. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, studying it in silence.

His gaze flicked back to Lila. She still wasn’t looking at him, her jaw set tight. He couldn’t tell if she was upset, scared, or just pissed.

“Mazel tov,” he said dryly, holding the picture up slightly. “You’re going to be a mom.”

That got her attention. She turned her head sharply, her expression hardening. “Am I? You’ve spent all day talking about how the world’s doomed.”

Oh good, she’s pissed with me.

“I’ve spent all day not knowing what the hell is going on,” he shot back. “Forgive me if I’m not radiating sunshine and optimism.”

Lila shook her head, lifting her coffee and taking a long sip. Five’s eyes dropped to the picture again, then back to her. He placed it back inside the envelop delicately and glided it back across the table.

“You need to tell Diego,” he said after a moment. “You don’t have to be together, but he has a right to know. Don’t make me do it for you.”

Her eyes narrowed, her glare cutting sharp. “Are you threatening me?”

Five held her gaze steadily, lifting his cup and taking a sip before replying. “You can’t afford to be a bitch about this.”

“Fuck you, I can handle this however they hell I want,” she snapped, her voice low but venomous.

“You really can’t,” he shot back, his tone calm but firm. “You’ve got no money and a hotel with two days left on it.”

Lila’s jaw twitched, and for a moment, he thought she might hurl her coffee at him. But then something shifted. Her breath hitched, her chest rising sharply like she was fighting for air.

Five noticed her trembling hands, how the grip on the coffee cup was tightening. He realised this wasn’t rage—it was panic.

Her breaths came quicker, more erratic, and she seemed frozen in place. The chaotic Lila he knew so well looked uncharacteristically small and overwhelmed. Five sighed, setting his cup down and leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping low, careful not to draw attention.

“Look,” he said, his tone softer now, almost cautious, “just go tell him. If you two don’t work it out, I’ll help you out for now.”

Lila’s eyes snapped to his, her expression a mixture of anger and disbelief. “Why the hell are you pitying me, Five? Is it because I showed you some back at the end of the world?”

“Forget it,” he muttered, the sharp edge creeping back into his voice.

Without waiting for a response, he tossed back the rest of his coffee, the heat biting at his throat, but he didn’t flinch. He wasn’t about to waste coffee or any more words.

Pushing back his chair, Five stood abruptly and headed for the door without checking if Lila was following. He didn’t have the patience or time for this. He had spent all morning trying to get some answers, trying to help her. In return he has asked her to do one thing. One thing she owed not even to him, but his brother.

He needed a walk, to clear his head. Work out the next tactic, the next logical thing to do. Making his way down the road, it then hit him as his eyes caught the display window of an estate agent’s office.

The properties listed were mediocre at best, but one stood out—a small two-bedroom house, $1,200 a month, fully furnished. It wasn’t far from here, and it didn’t take much maths to realise it was cheaper than their current setup. The hotel was $55 a day each, adding up to $1,650 for one person, let alone two. If this timeline unravelled as spectacularly as expected, having a stable base made more sense than lingering in a hotel. This could be step one towards a plan.

He stepped inside, the faint chime of a bell announcing his arrival. A young woman behind the desk looked up and greeted him with a professional smile.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Five mustered a smile he wasn’t feeling. “I’d like to enquire about the $1,200 house in the window.” He gestured toward the display before placing his hands in his pockets.

“Of course,” she said cheerfully, grabbing a clipboard of forms. “We’ll need you to fill out this paperwork, and we’ll also need to contact your employer to confirm—”

“What if I pay six months upfront?” Five interrupted, trying a sweet smile again. His cheeks already ached.

The woman blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Well, that’s...unusual, but not impossible. I’ll need to call the landlord to confirm.” She hesitated. “They may still ask about your employment status. What should I tell them?”

“I’m a student,” Five replied smoothly. “But I have enough money to cover this.”

The agent nodded, clearly unconvinced but willing to proceed. “I’ll make the call. Please bear with me a moment.”

She excused herself, leaving Five alone in the small office. He picked up a pen from the counter and started twirling it absentmindedly, his thoughts drifting.

When the agent returned, her smile was still intact. “The owner has agreed but wanted to ask—will it just be you, or is someone else moving in as well?”

Five hesitated, tapping the pen against the counter. “There may be someone else.”

“Okay,” she said, jotting something down. “And their relationship to you?”

“Complicated,” Five muttered under his breath before clearing his throat. “Just a friend.”

“Right.” She gave him a polite, slightly wary nod before continuing. “If you and your friend are living together, we’ll need to know if either of you plans to bring partners, pets, babies, or children into the property.”

The word babies made Five’s fake smile falter for a second. That was a future problem—one that might not even concern him. Odds were, Lila would go running to Diego later, they’d have some public reconciliation that involved way too much kissing and likely other things, and this whole mess would sort itself out. It wasn’t his business to factor in her life.

“Understood,” he said curtly. “When can I move in?”

“As soon as the payment clears, normally 1-2 days.” she replied, handing him the forms.

“Good,” Five said, signing quickly. Whatever the world had instore for him, at least he’d have a place to strategise.

Chapter Text

Five made his way back to the hotel and headed straight to the bar. He figured he’d try his luck, but the bartender asked for ID he couldn’t produce. Resigned, he settled for a coffee instead. As he sat at the same table as the night before, he glanced at his watch, realising a few hours had passed since he’d told Lila to go and deal with Diego.

He wasn’t sure if she’d come back at all or if she’d drag Diego along for a place to sleep. For all he knew, Diego had crashed on a park bench somewhere last night.

It didn’t take long to get his answer. Lila strode into the bar, her brown eyes immediately locking onto him. The glare she sent could have ignited the room, but Five met it with a blank expression. Childishly, he kicked out the chair tucked in front of him, an unspoken invitation to sit.

“How ungentlemanly of you,” Lila rolled her eyes as she slid into the seat.

Ignoring her sarcasm, Five cut straight to the point. “Did you find my brother?”

“I did,” she said flatly.

“And?”

“I told him,” Lila said, her tone nonchalant.

“And?” Five hated asking more than once for information which was clear he was requesting.

“I told him I wasn’t interested in getting back together.” She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “And he said he wasn’t interested in a kid he couldn’t guarantee was his.”

Five shrugged, eyebrows arched as he gave a small nod. He could understand Diego’s thought process. She disappeared, went to Berlin, came back with a kid who wasn’t his. Said it was. Why should he believe her now? Amusingly though, Five did trust Lila’s word on this which was the only reason he pushed her to go and tell him. “Makes sense.”

“Wanker.” Lila shot up from her chair, looking ready to storm off when Five’s voice stopped her.

“Wait.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair as if to smooth the tension away. “I got a house set up today.”

“Bully for you,” Lila sneered.

“Well, it was going to be bully for us, if you want and dropped the attitude.”

Lila narrowed her eyes, incredulous. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Five said, his voice calm. “You move out when you’re able to. Until then, I am offering you not to be pregnant and living on the streets.”

“Such a fucking saint,” Lila muttered, shaking her head.

“Funny way of saying thank you.”

“I just don’t get you.” She leaned forward, her gaze searching his face. “You fucked off a few hours ago like it wasn’t your problem.”

“And in that time, I secured a place to live and cooled off,” Five replied evenly. “Clearly, the same can’t be said for you. And while I’m fully aware it’s not an excuse, I think it’s worth pointing out that my body is still stuck in the tail end of the delightful hormonal stage. So, for better or worse, we’re a perfectly hormonal match right now.”

Lila scowled. “So why are you helping?”

“Because,” Five said, leaning back and giving her a measured look, “I’m not heartless. I have been out in the world alone and I wouldn’t recommend it. Besides you did what I asked and spoke to Diego so that counts for something.”

She scoffed. “You sure you’re not doing this for Diego? So if I change my mind you look like the good guy who helped out the defenceless pregnant lady?”

Five snorted, taking a sip of his coffee. “I love my family but they are idiots at the best of time and I don’t do anything for their approval. I just want them safe. Diego has made his position clear. This isn’t about him. It’s about you not being stubborn to the point of stupidity.”

Lila stared at him for a moment, her sharp edges softening just slightly. The retort she was about to hurl fell away before it even formed. “I don’t need someone to look after me, Five. I’ve made my bed, I can lay in it.”

“Certainly. However, I never said you needed someone to look after you.” Five’s voice was calm but firm. “I’ve simply offered to help—something you, like me, are still not used to.”

Lila scoffed, avoiding his eyes. “So, when do you get the keys?”

“In the next day or two. I’ll check in tomorrow to see if they’re ready.”

She gave a small nod, her bravado dimmed for now. Five knew better than to expect Lila to apologise. Apologies weren’t in her arsenal—deflecting and arguing were all she knew.

He exhaled inwardly. As much as he wanted to be useful, to fix things, it often felt like he fell short of his own goals. Maybe the past 30 days of failing to stop one apocalypse after another had worn him down more than he cared to admit. The ever-present anxiety that another disaster could strike at any moment wasn’t doing his nerves any favours.

“Can you get me a drink?” he asked abruptly, pulling out his wallet and showing her a card.

Lila frowned. “Yikes, Five. It’s barely 1 o’clock, and I’m betting you haven’t had lunch yet.”

“Look, are you going to get me one or not? Or should I try the corner shop down the road?”

“It’d probably be cheaper,” Lila said, her tone teasing but with a hint of concern. “If all you’re after is a bottle—” She stopped mid-thought, grimacing. “Wait. Why am I encouraging this? You clearly have a problem.”

Five’s eyes narrowed, his irritation flaring. “Water was hard to come by in my personal hell so I am used to drinking like a fish. And I’ve just spent the last few days drowning the thought of oblivion. Give me a break—I’ll stop once I’m sure the sky isn’t going to fall.”

Lila stared at him, her expression unreadable, before letting out a small sigh. “Fine. But if I’m fetching your drink, you’re also getting lunch. Deal?”

Five said nothing to start with, he didn’t feel hungry so there was no need to eat.

“Five?” Lila looked at him with more concern than he expected. She let out a sigh. “Something about neither us being any good about accepting help?”

“Fine, deal.” They both got up and left the hotel bar. 

---

The next morning, Five noticed Lila hadn’t come down for breakfast. He sat at the small dining table, eating a bowl of cereal and sipping his coffee. After finishing, he glanced at his watch, hesitated for a moment, and then decided to check on her.

A “Do Not Disturb” sign dangled haphazardly placed from her room’s doorhandle. Five took a breath and knocked firmly.

“I already said, I don’t want my sheets changed!” Lila’s voice rang out, muffled but sharp with irritation.

“It’s me,” Five replied curtly, leaning one arm against the doorframe.

There was a pause before she snapped back, “can you not read?”

Rolling his eyes, Five turned to head back to his room, but just as he stepped away, the door creaked open. Lila peeked out, standing there in just her underwear, her hair mussed and face pale. She looked like she hadn’t slept properly in days, let alone one night. It appeared she was sleeping in her underwear, the same way he was. His gaze flicked over her briefly, assessing her condition before landing back on her face, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I’m seriously exhausted,” she muttered, her voice rough and low. “I was up three times to pee last night, and I threw up bile twice. It’s the worst. Just bile. It’s like my stomach hates me.”

“I’m aware,” Five said, his tone softer, almost teasing but edged with genuine sympathy. For a split second, he almost smiled but caught himself, keeping it to a faint twitch of his lips. “Do you want me to bring you anything from breakfast?”

She shook her head, one hand gripping the edge of the door as if standing upright took effort. “I just want to get some sleep.”

“Drink some water,” he said, his voice more insistent now. “Better to throw up something than nothing. Hydration matters.”

Lila waved him off weakly, muttering something under her breath, but he wasn’t done. “I’m heading out soon to see if the keys are ready for collection,” he added.

“Yeah, whatever,” she murmured, giving a small nod, though she wasn’t really looking at him.

“Rest,” he said shortly, not waiting for a reply as he turned on his heel and heard the door close with a quiet click.

---

Five returned to the estate agent’s office. As soon as he walked in, they confirmed that the payment had cleared, and the keys were handed over with little fanfare. Lila not being able to join him suited him perfectly—it gave him the time and space to assess the house and start preparing without her inevitable commentary.

The walk to the house was uneventful, though Five’s wondered with calculations, contingencies, and a mental checklist of everything they would need to survive for a few weeks, possibly longer.

The property was a modest two-bedroom house with an unassuming exterior that didn’t draw attention. Inside, the living room was compact, sparsely furnished with a small three-person sofa facing a television and a coffee table between them. Off to the side, there was a tiny dining nook but big enough for a table and two chairs. The kitchen was more functional, with an average amount of counter space, a decent amount of storage, a working oven, a microwave, and—thankfully—a washer, dryer, and dishwasher, all lined neatly along one wall. Out back, the garden was a small, paved patio with two cracked plastic chairs.

Under the stairs, Five found a large storage closet. He opened it, his mind already mapping out how much it could hold. Upstairs, both bedrooms were surprisingly even in size. Each had a double bed already made up with plain but clean linens, a wardrobe, and a chest of drawers. One window overlooked the garden, while the other faced the street, its curtains were slightly frayed at the edges. At the end of the hallway was the bathroom, which featured a generously sized shower, a basic sink and toilet, and a mirrored cabinet with just enough room for essentials.

Five ran a hand through his hair as he inspected the place. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. Locking the door behind him, he set off to the nearest supermarket, his list growing more precise with every step.

---

By the time he arrived at the store, Five already knew he wouldn’t be able to carry everything himself. But asking Lila for help, even if she felt up for it, was out of the question. She’d laugh in his face and call him paranoid. His solution came in the form of a payphone outside the supermarket. He dialled a local taxi company, scheduling a pickup for forty-five minutes later. Giving just enough time to stock up on the essentials and still do a "normal" shop with Lila later on.

Inside, Five grabbed two shopping trolleys, pushing one and pulling the other. He ignored the curious glances from other shoppers and headed straight for the bottled water aisle. The largest bottles available were 5 litres each. He loaded ten onto the bottom of one trolley. 50 litres in total. At two litres a day, that was 25 days’ worth of water for one person. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start.

Next came the canned goods. His choices were practical and calorie-dense: tuna in oil, sardines, beans (kidney, pinto, black), corned beef hash, and canned meats. He checked each can carefully for expiration dates. His second trolley began to fill quickly as he added toilet paper, multiple tubes of toothpaste, Tylenol, a first aid kit, toothbrushes, bars of soap, a pen, a notebook, a flashlight, and spare batteries.

By the time Five rolled up to the cashier, both trolleys were loaded high. The teenage cashier raised an eyebrow, smirking as they scanned the items.

“Are you preparing for the apocalypse or something?” they quipped, barely suppressing a laugh.

Five’s expression darkened. He said nothing, choosing instead to reload his haul into the trolleys with efficient movements. Bags were pointless, everything too heavy or big for them.

After paying, he waited outside, his gaze flicking between the road and his watch. The taxi pulled up on time, and the driver stepped out, clearly taken aback by the sight of the trolleys.

“Normally, I’m helping little old ladies with their shopping,” the driver said with a chuckle as he and Five began loading the items into the boot as well as the back seats. “Not someone with enough supplies to survive a nuclear winter.”

“Oh trust me, there isn’t enough here for that.” Five replied dryly, shoving a couple bottles of water into the footwell of the back seat.

The driver shook his head but said nothing more. Five climbed into the front of the car and the driver took off.

Once back at the house, the taxi driver kindly helped him unload everything to the doorstep, earning a decent tip on top of the fare. Five then set to work, lugging the supplies inside piece by piece. The bottles of water fit neatly under the stairs, stacked alongside the rolls of spare toilet paper. The canned goods filled an entire cupboard in the kitchen, their labels facing outward in a precise, almost compulsive arrangement. The toiletries were carried upstairs to the bathroom, tucked away in the small cabinet above the sink.

Satisfied that the essentials were stowed, Five finally headed back to the hotel. His tie was undone, the top button of his shirt popped open, and his jacket hung loosely under his arm. The faint sheen of sweat on his brow and the dampness clinging to his collar spoke to the effort he'd exerted. All he wanted now was a shower and drink.

Unlocking his door, he tossed his jacket onto the bed, followed by his waistcoat. He ran a hand through his damp hair, when he heard the unmistakable sound of retching through the thin adjoining door.

He froze.

It’s normal, he told himself firmly. She’s not sick. She’s being sick. There’s a difference. It won’t be food poisoning. She doesn’t need help.

Still, he lingered, staring at the connecting door. His fingers hovered over the lock for a moment, caught between logic and instinct. Finally, he sighed and unlocked it, giving three brisk knocks.

“Piss off,” Lila groaned weakly from the other side.

He sighed again, rubbing his temples, before responding. “I’m not going away. Open up.”

“Don’t you dare, Five,” she said, voice muffled and strained.

He took that as maybe her side wasn’t locked. He turned the handle and sure enough the door opened. Inside, Lila was kneeling in front of the toilet, hair messy and stuck to her damp forehead. She was still in her underwear, looking utterly miserable.

Five kept his gaze neutral, his expression composed despite the slight clench in his jaw. “You look terrible,” he said matter-of-factly, walking past her to the wardrobe in her room.

“I feel worse,” she muttered, resting her head on her arm as it draped over the toilet bowl.

Five opened the wardrobe, scanning its contents before pulling out a white hotel-issued dressing gown.

“I didn’t even know we had these,” she remarked, looking over her shoulder as Five walked over with it.

“Always worth checking for anything useful,” he added, draping the dressing gown gently over her shoulders.

“You are such an old man sometimes,” she said, pulling the gown around her with a faint smirk.

“Practicality never goes out of style,” Five countered, crouching beside her and leaning back on his heels. “The sickness should start getting better soon with entering the second trimester.”

“I’m sure other things will get worse,” Lila replied, her voice dry but tinged with fatigue.

“Actually,” Five said, his tone shifting to something almost optimistic, “the second trimester is often the best part of pregnancy. The nausea fades, energy levels go up—”

Lila rolled her eyes at his know-it-all attitude. “Oh, great. A walking pregnancy manual.”

He stood back up to fill a glass with water, handing it to her before sliding down the wall to sit on the bathroom floor. The cool tiles were a welcome contrast to the sticky heat of his day.

“I’ve got the keys now,” he said. “If you want to leave this evening, we can. If not, we stay the extra night and head over tomorrow.”

Lila shook her head weakly. “I don’t feel like moving today.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a small nod.

She groaned, leaning her head back against the toilet. “I don’t get why I feel so crap. I was sick a few times before, but not like this.”

“Hormones are going to keep fluctuating.”

“Ugh,” she groaned louder, waving him off. “Can you not be so bloody matter-of-fact all the time? Just let me feel miserable.”

Five gave her a half-smile. “Sure.”

Lila squinted at him, smirking faintly. “Anyway, what’s your excuse? You look like you’ve been through it. Half your clothes are missing—not that I’m complaining.”

He chuckled softly at the hint of her usual crudeness breaking through. “I was just about to shower when I heard you retching.”

“Shame I didn’t hold out a few seconds longer. What would you have done, rushed in here naked?”

“Pft.” He scoffed and waved her off, though his lips twitched in amusement.

“Well, don’t let me stop you. Shower’s right there.” She turned back toward the toilet as another wave of nausea hit her.

“Yeah, no thanks. Last thing I need is for you to start dry-heaving at the sight of my birthday suit,” he quipped, standing up and brushing off his trousers. “I’ll keep the door between us open. Shout if you need anything.”

Before leaving, he gave her a brief, sympathetic pat on the back. As he stepped back into his room, he couldn’t help but shake his head at the absurdity of their exchange, a faint smile lingering despite it all.

---

The next day, Five stirred every time he heard movement from Lila’s room. Each sound—soft footsteps, the creak of the bathroom door—pulled him from sleep, though it seemed she wasn’t being sick anymore, just making trips to the toilet. He took it as a hopeful sign. Still, every time he woke, the faint glow from his bathroom light spilling into his room fooled his body into thinking it was already morning, and it took effort to drift back off each time.

By the time the actual morning arrived, Five felt mildly groggy but not entirely unrested. After getting dressed, he decided against going around to the main door and instead knocked gently on the connecting one.

“Yeah?” came Lila’s muffled voice from the other side.

“Alright?”

A moment later, the door creaked open. Lila looked better—less pale and more composed. She yawned but managed a smile. “Morning. I’m starving.”

“Good sign,” Five remarked giving a small tight lipped smile. She was already dressed in the same clothes they had been wearing the last few days. Her black t-shirt and slightly ripped jeans. “Shall we then?”

They made their way downstairs to breakfast, where Lila practically inhaled toast and eggs while Five nursed his usual coffee and bowl of cereal. He noted with satisfaction that she seemed to be looking like she would be able to keep everything down.

Once they’d finished, they checked out of the hotel and began the short walk to the new house.

When they arrived, Five unlocked the door and let Lila step inside first. She wandered through the place, opening doors and peeking into rooms like a curious cat.

“This one,” she declared, standing in the doorway of the bedroom with the large window overlooking the street.

“That’s fine,” Five replied with a shrug, already eyeing the quieter back room for himself. “We need to stock up on groceries. How are you feeling about a trip to the store?”

Lila tilted her head in consideration. “As long as we stick to stuff that doesn’t make me want to hurl, I’m game.”

At the supermarket, Five made a point to stick close to Lila as she picked out things that appealed to her. He subtly triple-checked expiration dates, portion sizes, and the suitability of each item without making it obvious.

They ended up with a week’s worth of meals, carefully planned and balanced to ensure nothing went to waste. Lila seemed none the wiser to his quiet diligence, which he considered a small victory. He also managed to convince her that two bottles of whiskey would last him more than a night and she agreed to buy them.

By the time they returned to the house and unpacked, Lila had settled on the couch, sipping water and looking ready for a nap.

Chapter Text

Lila had fallen asleep on the sofa not long after they returned. Her head lolled to the side, with one arm dangling off the edge. She didn’t look particularly comfortable, but rest was rest, and Five wasn’t about to interrupt it. Instead, he took a seat on a hard dining chair in the corner, pulling out the pen and notebook he’d picked up earlier during the first day’s shopping trip.

Next to him sat a glass of whiskey—half empty now—and as he sipped, his pen scratched across the pages. Thoughts, theories, probabilities: all centred around the timeline and the ever-looming question of whether it was bound to go to hell again. How could it? What could they do to stop it this time, especially without their powers?

By the end of six densely packed pages, he arrived at an unsettling conclusion.

Nothing.

Five leaned back in his chair, the word staring back at him. Yet as his mind churned, another thought crept in: maybe the lack of powers wasn’t a curse but a safeguard. Viktor couldn’t accidentally blow something up or trigger a war. Allison couldn’t unleash a devastating rumour. Lila couldn’t weaponize borrowed abilities. And he? He couldn’t tamper with time and unravel reality.

But the thought didn’t comfort him for long.

What if something naturally catastrophic happened? Without his powers, he wouldn’t be able to protect anyone—least of all his family, which now included eight and a half people, as he grimly counted. His gaze drifted to Lila, still snoring softly on the couch. He sighed and reached for the back of the notebook, flipping to a clean page.

This time, he started an inventory.

“Cans... water...” he muttered under his breath, jotting each item’s quantity while it was still fresh in his memory.

“Clothes.” The word slipped out almost involuntarily.

They’d gone three days in the same outfits. Socks, underwear—basic necessities—they needed more. His eyes flicked back to Lila. Would she need maternity wear soon? Maybe she’d be gone by then, managing on her own. Not his problem, but for now, she needed clothes as much as he did.

Five checked his watch, already past midday. Time for lunch. Although he wasn’t particularly hungry, Lila would need to eat when she woke up. Little and often seemed to be helping her keep food down.

In the kitchen, he threw together a couple of PB&J sandwiches. Jam was practical. It lasted longer than most things and was high in sugar—perfect for keeping sugar levels up when nothing else was available whilst peanut butter contained protein. He cut both sandwiches into neat triangles, plated them, and carried them back to the table.

He wasn’t sure if maybe the cluttering in the kitchen was enough to stir her but Lila woke up, groaning softly. As Five sat down with the two sandwiches, he heard her.

“Ugh, my stomach,” she muttered before rolling off the sofa and stumbling into the kitchen. A moment later, the sound of dry heaving filled the air.

Five froze, sandwich halfway to his mouth. He didn’t look up, instead staring intently at his food, though his appetite rapidly vanished. When he heard the distinct splatter of what remained of breakfast hitting the sink, he pouted and placed the PB&J back on his plate.

The tap ran briefly, followed by the sound of a glass filling. Lila emerged a moment later, wiping at her mouth and looking pale.

“I made lunch,” Five offered. “If you think you can manage it.”

She raised an eyebrow, her expression sceptical. “What is it?”

“PB&J,” he said simply.

She squinted at the sandwich like it was a threat to be assessed. After a deep breath, she sat down and took a tentative bite, waiting to see if her stomach would betray her again. When nothing happened, she let out a soft laugh of relief and slowly took another bite.

“I was thinking,” Five began, watching her cautiously, “that we could get some clothes. Considering all we came here with is what we’re wearing—and frankly, it’s been longer than I’d like to admit.”

Lila smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. “Well, you get four uses out of underwear, don’t you? Front, back, inside, outside.” She sang the words with exaggerated cheer, earning a faint glare from Five.

“Grim, no matter how you say it,” he retorted, though a reluctant half-smile tugged at his lips. Even though she must have been feeling awful, she always seemed to manage a cheerful attitude generally.

“What did you do for 40 years?” she asked, the question almost casual.

“Raided clothing shops. Washed things in rivers when I ventured out,” Five’s glazed over as he remembered how many layers he would wear at times just to transport anything and everything with him. Being hot was annoying for the most part but being cold could kill much easier. Dolores helped too, happily taking on some extra layers of clothes as she rode in the back of his red waggon he pulled along on small excursions for more water, food or alcohol.

Lila nodded but didn’t press further. She rarely asked follow-ups, Five realised. It was as though she was leaving space for him to share as much—or as little—as he wanted. Something he appreciated more than he’d admit.

“You gonna finish that?” Lila gestured toward his plate, he noticed her eyes glancing at what little remained of his whiskey.

“Go for it.” Five slid the plate over and downed the last of his drink. He stood, stretching before heading to the door to put on his shoes.

Lila polished off the remaining half-triangle of sandwich before grabbing the last one, holding it between her teeth as she tugged on her boots. Five opened the door and locked it behind them as they stepped out.

“Here,” she said, handing him the sandwich.

“I’m fine,” he said, shaking his head. “Not that hungry.”

“Because I put you off,” she stated. “We’re outside now. See if you can eat it while we walk to the shops.”

Reluctantly, Five accepted the sandwich and took a small bite as they set off.

It didn’t take long to reach the department store. Signs near the door marked out the layout: women’s clothes on the ground floor, men’s on the first, children’s on the second, and miscellaneous items on the third.

“So,” Lila began, gesturing at a cluster of mannequins, “which one’s the cutest?”

Five rolled his eyes. “Hilarious.” He scanned the area for the escalators.

“I mean, we could sneak one out of here,” she continued, grinning wickedly. “What’s your preference this time? Male? Female?”

“Good to know you enjoy wearing the same clothes day in, day out,” he said dryly, stepping towards the elevator.

“Okay, okay! Just a joke,” Lila said, holding her hands up in surrender.

Five pulled out his wallet and grabbed a few notes, holding them out to her. “Here. Sensible, practical clothes. We don’t know what’s coming.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Doom and Gloom!” Lila snatched the money with a smile but then her look became a little more serious as she gave him a little nod and walked off.

Five watched her for a moment before heading up to the men’s section. He grabbed a basket near the elevator, knowing he had a list of items in his head to pick up. Jeans—far more durable than his usual suit trousers—along with plain T-shirts, a couple of jumpers, socks, and a spare white shirt all made their way into the basket.

Almost certain he’d finish long before Lila, Five decided to head up to the top level to check for a book section. The selection wasn’t extensive; most of it consisted of top-selling titles. Still, the small science section caught his attention, and he picked up a couple of books that seemed interesting. Likely more science fiction than plausible theories, but something to read was something to occupy his mind, if only for a short while.

It struck Five as odd to see books that were “new” now but had been considered outdated during the apocalypse. Stranger still was the memory of reading works in that bleak time that hadn’t even been written yet. His eyes roamed over the shelves, lingering on the children’s and parenting sections for a moment.

With a few books neatly stacked atop the clothes in his basket, Five turned to head for the checkout. But as he passed the electronics section, something caught his eye—cell phones. How much easier would the last 37 days have been if they’d all had phones?

He flagged down a store assistant, instructing them to grab two of the most basic phones available with two pay-as-you-go sims.

With the assistant’s help, Five paid promptly and gathered his purchases into a brown paper bag. He stepped onto the escalator, descending to the store's entrance. It didn’t take long to spot Lila waiting by the doors, holding a bag of her own.

“You took your sweet time, didn’t you? Trying out all the ties?” Lila quipped as he approached.

“I thought women took an age picking out clothes—or is that only the ones with fashion sense?”

“You said practical, doesn’t leave much room for fashion,” she shot back.

Five rolled his eyes and held out his hand.

She handed the bag over, expecting him to want to check her purchases but he didn’t, he simply offered to carry it.

“Change?”

“Joking, right?”

“You spent everything?”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t,” Lila said with a smirk, clearly unbothered.

Five sighed, turning toward the door, his and Lila’s bags in hand. “I grabbed us cell phones.”

“Seriously? And you didn’t let me pick one out with you?” Lila pouted, sticking her bottom lip up.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Five said with a shrug. “Besides, they’re basic phones. Basic means better battery life. Better battery life means—”

“Good when the power goes out,” Lila interrupted, finishing his thought.

“Exactly,” Five said, his tone clipped but approving. “And considering everything, you can give your number to Diego.”

“Not a chance.”

“Come on, Lila.” Five’s tone carried a hint of exasperation. “I’m done walking into each shitshow hoping the family will magically gather. Short of me becoming telepathic, I think cell phones are the simplest option. I get you two aren’t talking and not together but you will likely want to contact him at some point.” Five stopped, turning to give her a pointed look. “Besides, if you don’t, he’ll just get it off someone else.”

“Then he has to go out of his way to do it,” Lila shot back, her tone unbothered.

Five’s eyes narrowed slightly, his patience wavering. “So, what? It turns into a little game to see if he still cares?”

“No,” Lila said coolly, her arms crossing. “I just don’t want drunken 2 a.m. texts.”

Five watched her for a second. Somewhere deep-down he got it. He said he was done with her. Why should she be the one to extend an olive branch? “To be honest, it’s bold of you to assume he knows how to spell,” Five joked, trying to lighten the mood with the faintest slanted smile tugging at his lips.

Lila let out a small chuckle despite herself, breaking the tension just a little as they started walking again.

“Fine,” Five said after a long moment. “I’ll give him my number the next time I see him. If he wants to contact you, he can do it through me for now.”

Lila smirked, her satisfaction evident. “Thanks,” she stepped closer and slipped her arm through his, careful not to jostle the bag swinging between them.

Five scowled, his expression darkening as her grin only widened, her hand giving his arm a playful squeeze. He felt the sting of compromise settle in. He sighed, his glare softening just a fraction as they continued down the road.

---

Five thought they’d have arguments every day but they managed to cohabit fairly peacefully for a week. And then it happened. Their first argument and over something far more trivial than either of them expected.

It started in the kitchen one evening when Five opened the cupboard to check the supplies, it was simply a habit he had created that once a day, he checked the stocks. He didn’t expect it to change but when he opened the door, his eyes landed on an empty spot where a can of tuna should have been. He raised an eyebrow. He moved to the bin opening it and sure enough, an empty tin stared back at him.

“Lila,” he called, his voice sharp as he walked into the sitting room to see her on the sofa.

“What?” she asked, her tone already defensive.

“Why did you use the tuna?” He stepped into the doorway, holding up the empty can from the recycling bin like it was evidence in a trial.

Lila glanced over her shoulder, frowning. “Because I didn’t feel like eating the same thing we had for lunch the last two days again today. My stomach turned.”

Five’s jaw clenched. “The tins are for emergencies, when we already have food that can be eaten, it’s not an emergency, you eat what’s there is. Don’t like it, don’t eat it.”

She turned fully to face him now, her eyes narrowing. “Are you fucking serious? Telling a pregnant woman she can’t eat? You’ve officially lost it, Five.”

“There is order to what we eat,” he snapped, his voice rising. “It’s to prevent waste. To make sure everything is used within its timeframe. You don’t just arbitrarily—”

“Oh, spare me the lecture!” Lila interrupted, storming into the kitchen. “I needed to eat something that I wouldn’t puke back up five minutes later. Is that so hard for your brain to comprehend? I don’t know what wacko order you have in your head!”

Five opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue, but her logic hit him like a brick wall. His expression softened as he processed her words, and slowly, his tense shoulders lowered.

“You’re right,” he muttered after a long pause, the fight draining out of him. He nodded, pulling a sticky note from the stack on the counter. Scribbling the words ‘Tuna tin’ in neat, sharp letters, he slapped it onto the fridge. “I’ll buy more tomorrow. We need more tins anyway.”

Lila watched him in silence, her anger simmering down as she took in the defeated slump of his posture. Despite the stubbornness that had fuelled the argument, she could see the exhaustion in his face. He wasn’t trying to control her; he was clinging to his survival instincts.

“Hey, having something on the fridge is a good idea. Why don’t we get a meal planner?”

Five looked over at her only for a second feeling embarrassment for his outburst and gave a small curt nod.

“And, I’ll write a note, if I take a tin of anything.”

A small half smile crossed his face. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Look at us compromising like an old married couple. See, having a roommate isn’t that hard.” He felt a shove to his shoulder as Lila playfully pushed him.

---

After that days fell into a regime, one that felt oddly domestic considering their circumstances. Lila mainly took the lead in cooking, though it wasn’t out of preference but necessity—Five had never been able to learn properly. His meals, over the years, had been purely functional: whatever was edible and kept him alive. He had no concept of flavour pairings or techniques. Still, he tried to help where he could, cutting vegetables or peeling them. He always paid attention to what Lila showed him and said that he would get a cookbook when he next came across one.

Cooking was less of a chore with both of them in the kitchen, and it appeared that Lila appreciated the effort. As protective as he was over his canned goods, he knew without Lila, he would have likely reverted to subsisting on his stockpile. That, cereal and fluffnutter sandwiches. Things which took minimal effort. If Lila had realised that potential reality, she kept the acknowledgement to herself.

The fridge became another example of his meticulous nature. A whiteboard now magnetically stuck to the front of the fridge. Although Five used it as a weekly meal plan, it wouldn’t take someone much to realise it was more of an expiration date tracker. Meals sorted to ensure nothing went to waste. Whenever Five opened the fridge, he lingered longer than necessary, rummaging as if searching for something, but he was triple-checking each item.

Food poisoning, in his experience, was catastrophic. It meant dehydration, the inability to drink alcohol to cope, and a dangerous reliance on limited water supplies.

The first time Lila gagged at the sight of chicken, Five offered to throw it out immediately. No amount of reassurance from her could completely convince him it was fine until the meal was cooked and eaten. Her pregnancy nausea had betrayed her, and chicken quickly became a banned ingredient unless it came pre-cooked.

After dinner, they fell into their usual quiet rhythm. Five poured himself a whiskey, savouring the warmth as it settled in his chest, numbing his mind just enough to ease the edge off his thoughts. Meanwhile, he prepared Lila's drink of choice—a cup of decaf tea, perfectly steeped. She lounged on the sofa, scrolling through TV options. As expected, she landed on some trashy reality show that Five had no patience for.

He settled beside her, a notepad and a large phone book in hand, resuming his nightly search. Every evening, he devoted at least an hour to the Sisyphean task of looking for any trace of Sloane. It was something that when Lila first offered to him to have a look into, she thought maybe it would get him out of the perpetual cycle he was in of checking on everything, every evening. However, without a surname, the search was a slog, compounded by outdated directories and the impracticality of the task. On some nights, Lila joined in, taking the left pages while he took the right, turning the tedious process into a quiet game of "spot a Sloane."

"Do you really think you'll find her?" she asked, flipping through a page with mild scepticism.

"Not without a surname," Five admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "And even if I do, who's to say she’d even remember Luther?" He sighed, his eyes scanning surnames beginning with C, though his focus wavered.

"Could you imagine if you were the one who got lost?" Lila asked, her voice softer now. "None of us would’ve had a clue where to start with you. I doubt you'd still be called Five."

"You're probably right," he replied, barely glancing up.

She hesitated, then asked, "Hey, do you know what your name would’ve been? If it wasn’t Five?"

Five paused, stopping the tapping he was doing with his pen. "My mother was Irish, so… I don’t know. Paddy, maybe?" He chuckled dryly. “If I’d taken the name Grace assigned me at the Academy, it would’ve been Max."

"Max?" She tested the name aloud, as if rolling it around her tongue. "Max."

"Don’t," Five said sharply, though there was no real heat in his voice. "The rest of my family doesn’t even know."

Her teasing demeanour faded, replaced with genuine curiosity. "What happened?"

"Grace was tasked with naming us. We could suggest names, too. Everyone found something tied to their heritage, as I’m sure you’ve noticed." He set the notepad down for a moment. "She offered me Meiscill. It’s the Irish form of Max."

Lila frowned slightly. "Meiscill?"

"Yeah. It would've fit, I suppose, given how 'kill' sound is literally in the name. But I didn’t care for it. I was brought up and branded as a number. My stubbornness told me to keep it that way."

"Do you regret it? Not taking the name?"

"No." Five shook his head. "I got lost so soon after that it became a distant memory. It hardly mattered by then. It wasn’t like anyone was around to call me by it."

"Did you hate the name?"

"I didn’t care much for Meiscill," he admitted, "but Max… I actually don’t mind."

"Max," Lila repeated, her tone thoughtful. Before she could continue, her eyes lit up. "Oh, look! Another Sloane!" She jabbed her finger at a name on her page.

Five leaned over to see Sloane Chapman. With a small shake of his head, he added the details to his notepad. He was used to Lila’s rapid-fire changes in topic now. At first, her ability to pivot mid-conversation had felt like conversational whiplash. But over time, he realised it wasn’t that she wasn’t paying attention—her mind simply worked in overlapping circles, chasing every thread of thought with equal intensity.

Each night, Five lingered in the living room, biding his time until Lila inevitably retired to bed. It wasn’t difficult; pregnancy had her worn out more often than not, her energy spent before too long. The soft click of her bedroom door signalled his turn. Only then would he retreat to his own room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The routine was always the same—switch on the lamp, its warm glow filling the shadows, and sink onto the edge of the bed. For a moment, he’d sit there, rubbing a hand over his face as if wiping away the remnants of the day. Then he’d lie back, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep that rarely came easily.

One night, Five stirred from his sleep. He assumed Lila had gone to the bathroom—the click of a door or a distant sound pulling him out of his lull. But as he blinked groggily, he realised the room was completely dark. Pitch black.

What was that noise? A door? A bang? Had something just happened?

“Fuck!” His heart pounding as he clawed around the corner of the bed. His fingers found the cool handle of the kitchen knife he’d stashed there. His breathing grew shallow and erratic, his chest heaving as his ears strained for any sound.

Then the bedroom door opened.

Five reacted instantly, moving like an apex-predator. The sharp creak of the floorboards gave him a target in the dark. In an instant, he lunged, the knife poised as he closed the distance in a blur.

The light flicked on. Blinding brightness flooded the room. His knife was already pressed to their throat, his other hand pinning one of their arms against the doorframe. The sudden inability to see was likely what saved them.

“Five?!” The voice cracked through the haze, sharp and familiar.

Her wide eyes bore into his, and her free hand gripped his wrist, fighting the pressure of the blade against her skin. The sudden recognition hit him like a punch to the gut, and the adrenaline that had driven him faltered.

“Lila.” His voice was low, strained, as if forcing the word through gritted teeth would make it less real.

They both stepped back in unison, her movement cautious, his deliberate. His knuckles stayed white around the handle, his whole body still locked in combat mode, trembling with unspent energy. For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke, their ragged breaths filling the silence.

Five moved first, placing the knife down on the nightstand, his hand hovering there for a moment before raking through his now damp hair.

“Not a power cut, then,” he muttered, his voice gravelly and dry.

“No,” Lila replied, her tone measured, though her chest still rose and fell rapidly. “I thought you’d fallen asleep with the light on.” She gestured toward the lamp. “Figured I’d turn it off.”

“You came into my room.” His tone was sharp, cutting.

“I went to the bathroom.” Her answer was clipped, defensive. “The light was on. I thought you forgot, okay? Typical old-man move.”

“I don’t go into your room. I expect the same respect,” he snapped, though the harshness in his tone sounded more like a defence than an accusation.

“Noted,” she said, her voice neutral but cold. Her gaze didn’t waver, though. She leaned against the doorframe as if to steady herself, her hands casually brushing against the edges.

The silence stretched between them. Five’s breathing steadied as he focused on regulating it, his training taking over. Years with the Commission had taught him how to master an adrenaline rush, to channel the fear and chaos into precision and control.

He watched her. Anyone else by now would have bolted, yet there she stood. It dawned on him. How fucked up the situation was. How he held a blade seconds ago to her throat and she hardly appeared to be giving it a second thought.

“I could have—” He stopped himself, his words dying in his throat. He didn’t need to finish the sentence. They both knew what he could have done.

She crossed her arms, exhaling slowly. “You give yourself too much credit old man.”

He knew she was trying to make light of it. If she had her ability to mimic he had no doubt she would have gotten out of it but this was different and he had the element of surprise on her.

“Next time, I’ll knock.”

“Next time, don’t come in at all,” he said but guilt pulled at him for his actions. He shouldn’t be like this, he shouldn’t be so on edge.

“It’s not my fault. I didn’t realise you needed a nightlight.”

For a moment, he said nothing. Typical Lila, couldn’t be her fault could it. However, his gaze flicked to the lamp, turning it on and then back to her. She was right, in a way, what adult needed a nightlight at 58 years old. Someone who went without for far too long.

“Moonlight can be enough on a full moon, to see in the dark but it’s not always out. When there’s no moon, no electricity, no light pollution and batteries expire so flashlights fail... you start to imagine things in the dark.” The fight was drained from him as he admitted to himself as much as her, why the light was so important.

“I didn’t know,” Her voice carried an unusual softness about it. She stepped into the room, hesitating for a moment before perching on the edge of his bed. When Five didn’t protest, she continued, “I didn’t have a nightlight growing up. Mum wouldn’t have allowed it. But I had Mr. Biggles, a stuffed bear. When I woke up screaming, I’d squeeze him tight and bite his ear to stay quiet. The Handler hated the noise, so that’s how I coped.”

Five studied her, his gaze relaxing as the weight of her words settled in. He could picture her as a child—far too young, not just for the traumas of growing up in The Handler’s shadow but for the horrors that came with her job. No child should have to face what she had: missions drenched in blood, cold-blooded killings rationalised as ‘protecting the timeline.’ Let alone other techniques she likely had to apply to get a job done.

He let out a quiet sigh, his voice softer now. “You’ve never noticed the light before, so you must have already been up to have paid attention to the light under the door. Why were you up?” he asked, steering the conversation gently.

“Needed a piss and couldn’t sleep,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“Your paranoid little mind got to me. What if something’s wrong with this timeline? What if I go to give birth, and the world ends again?”

For once, her casual bravado was gone. Five exhaled, his gaze dropping to the faint bump barely visible beneath her shirt. It only slightly showed in the last couple of evenings he had noticed. “It’s been a few weeks. That’s more stable than anything I saw last month. Maybe it’s fine.”

“You don’t believe that,” Lila said, a knowing look in her eyes.

“No,” Five admitted. “But maybe I need to.”

After a pause, he glanced at his watch. “3 a.m.,” he groaned. “Might as well read something.” He reached for his book on the nightstand.

“Oh, great,” Lila teased, looking at the title. “You can read it aloud and put me to sleep.”

Five raised a brow. “Want to go back to your room, then?”

“Nah, here’s fine,” she said, surprising him as she climbed up the bed settling next to Five, leaning against the headboard.

After a moment’s hesitation, Five slid the quantum theory book back into its place and opened the drawer. He reached in, pulling out a different book—a brightly coloured pregnancy guide.

Lila tilted her head, a frown appearing on her face, somewhere between curiosity and amusement. “When did you get that?”

“Picked it up the other week when we went clothes shopping,” Five said with a casual shrug, though the faintest tinge of self-consciousness crept into his tone. “I know the science and the medical side of things. But I don’t know what to expect when they’re actually here.”

It wasn’t the whole truth. He’d been hunting for something more specific—something that covered not only childbirth, stages of labour but also how to raise a baby. Just in case the world attempted to  ended again at the most inconvenient of timings. Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t a single title called ‘So You’re Raising a Baby at the End of the World.’

Lila studied him for a moment, her expression softening as her frown gave way to something unreadable. “I don’t expect you to,” she said, her voice quieter now. “We’ll have our own place by then…” She trailed off, as if unsure of the words.

Five glanced at her, his gaze steady. “Well, I like reading. And I like having information.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, reaching over to take the book from him. She flipped to the contents page, her fingers trailing down the list.

“Want to pick a topic?” He leaned back slightly.

Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Weaning,” she decided. “The thought of them choking scares the shit out of me.”

Five almost smiled back. “Chapter 17: Weaning,” he read aloud, opening the book to the page. His voice was steady, deliberate and delivered in a calming tone.

It didn’t take long for Lila to drift off, her head slumped back against the headboard, mouth slightly open. Five glanced at his watch—3:28 a.m. She was at such an awkward angle, her neck and back were going to regret it in the morning. His gaze lingered on her for a moment as he weighed his options. Could he move her without waking her? Didn’t matter, either she’d stay asleep, or she’d wake up and head to her own bed.

Setting the book down, Five leaned over, careful and deliberate. He placed one hand on her shoulder and the other at the base of her head, supporting her weight as he gently shifted her. Slowly, he laid her down across the pillows. It wasn’t perfect—she ended up sprawled across both pillows, but at least it was better than the uncomfortable position she’d been in.

He slipped off the bed, untucking the covers from the foot of the mattress, allowing them to be pulled up and tucked around her. Once she was settled, he turned off the lamp, the room still illuminated from the light in the hallway. Stepping out of the room, he cast a glance at her room and paused. After his earlier comments about privacy, claiming her bed didn’t seem right just because she’d taken his.

With a quiet sigh, he made his way downstairs, flipping on the sitting room light and using the switch next to it to turn off the one for the hallway. The sofa wasn’t ideal, but it would do for the rest of the night. He made his way into the kitchen first, grabbing his half open bottle of whiskey and pressed the rim to his lips, downing what he considered to be a nightcap’s worth. Then he returned to the sitting room lowering himself onto the sofa, exhaling deeply as he tried to find a comfortable position.

Chapter Text

Neither Five or Lila brought up the other night. It was simply something put behind them as they tried to continue with what little normality they had carved out for themselves.

The television was playing some over-the-top action movie where the hero somehow dodged a hail of bullets with only a scratch. Lila was having a blast dissecting the plot with a constant running commentary. Five sat on the other end of the sofa, half-reading a dense book on chaos theory, glancing up periodically just to roll his eyes at the absurdity or sip his whiskey.

However, a dramatic shift in the movie caught his attention. The main character was making out with his partner, and it was obvious where the scene was heading. Five's eyes darted back to his book, nose nearly pressing against the page. Watching a sex scene in the presence of Lila, the one person he’d shared that intimacy with, felt like standing too close to a lit stove.

"Ugh," Lila groaned, breaking the tension. Five peeked at her, eyebrows raised.

"Not a fan?" he asked, trying to sound detached.

"No, I miss it," she said bluntly.

"The killing or the missions?" Five pretended to not know what was overly going on, his voice carrying its usual dry tone.

"The sex, Five," she said, throwing him a sidelong glance.

He cleared his throat after swallowing down his next sip of whiskey hard. The sudden warmth in the room became suffocating.

"Well?" she prompted when he didn't respond, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You don't miss it?"

Five considered pretending he hadn’t heard her, but that never worked with Lila. She'd just repeat it louder.

"Spent 58 years without it," he managed, trying to sound unaffected.

"So, our night didn’t make a dent in that thought process?" She grinned, and he could feel the smugness radiating off her. He kept pretending to read.

"That’s not what I meant," he muttered, he had no idea what line of text he was on anymore.

"Not even going to look at me?" Lila leaned over, cutting into his line of sight.

He exhaled through his nose. "What do you want, Lila?"

"I'm pregnant, I'm horny. So here’s an offer, we could be friends with benefits."

Five tried to keep his face as steady as possible but his eye twitched slightly involuntarily.

"Living together is already more closeness than I was prepared for.” It was more of a mumble than a coherent sentence.

"If you don’t want to, just say," she moved back towards her corner of the sofa.

"I didn't say that," he blurted before he could think. "Look, about before, I was drunk. It was... the end of the world and-"

"So, nothing’s changed in your eyes. You’re still waiting on the doomsday clock to strike midnight."  she cut in, teasing, but the smile on her lips had softened.

He shot her a glare that was more weary than annoyed. The interruption made him lose his train of thought, but maybe that was for the best.

"It could be one of the benefits, you know," she said, now leaning back on the couch. The casualness of her tone was almost unnerving.

"What benefits?" His book now closed on his lap, and Lila noticed the way his fingers tapped against it.

"I could teach you what a woman wants," she said, a curve to her mouth started to play on her lips. "So that when the time comes, you’ll be better prepared. Trust me, they’re not going to want socks stuffed in their—"

"Okay, okay! Enough." His ears were burning. "Fine. How do you see this working?"

"Ground rules," she replied with a sly shrug.

"Naturally," his eyes narrowed and his voice sounded somewhat hesitant.

They both sized each other up, across the sofa, unspoken terms in their eyes before Lila spoke first.

"We go back to our own beds after."

"No kissing," Five added, his tone clipped.

"Complete discretion," Lila said. "Nobody else knows."

"And if anyone else asks, this never happened." Five continued.

"Safe words?" Lila smirked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that necessary?"

She shrugged. "You never know.”

He sighed. "Fine. We'll pick one each."

Lila thought for a moment. "We stop if either one of us gets uncomfortable."

"Agreed," Five said, nodding.

She smirked. "See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?"

They stared at each other for a moment. Did we really just agree to this?

“So…” Lila’s grin was nothing short of mischievous. “Shall we?”

Five hesitated, glancing at his glass. It was strange—he’d always assumed that if he ever found himself in this situation again, there’d be more to it. Kisses, whispered promises, some degree of emotional connection.  Yet here they were, discussing it like it was an ordinary way to kill time. Which, in a way, it was.

He tipped the glass back, finishing the last drop of his whiskey before setting it down. He wasn’t drunk—not like the first time—but there was a pleasant haze settling over him. He stood and looked towards the stairs, considering. He didn't want her in his room again. Not when she knew about the knife by his bed.

“Your room, then?” He turned back to her, his voice even.

Lila smirked. “Yeah, guess there are fewer sharp objects in there.”  

His eyes narrowed slightly, catching the teasing glint in her gaze. She let out a small chuckle, clearly enjoying this. She remembered, just as well as he did, the way his eyes had scanned the hotel room last time. A part of him still wasn’t sure if she’d ever try to take revenge for her parents, and honestly, he wouldn’t blame her if she gave it a go. They both knew there was a knife in his room but he had no idea if she had any form of weapon in hers but it felt like a more calculated risk than actively giving her a weapon if she decided to try something. She, at the end of the day, was still that crazy lady that only three weeks ago, tried to kill him.

“C’mon, then,” she said, brushing past him as she stood. She stretched out her hand toward him.

Five hesitated. Did this already break a rule? Holding hands… no, we’ve always done this, he reminded himself. He took it and let her pull him along up the stairs to her room. 

Once inside, she let go and Five instinctively shoved his hands into his pockets, unsure what to do next but his gaze went to the light switch for just a second.

“You can’t do much with them in there,” Lila remarked, grabbing Five’s attention as she moved to the other side of her bed, turning on the lamp.  “Lesson one: don’t put your hands in your pockets. You look like you’re hiding a boner and uninterested. Plus, how are you going to undress with your hands stuck there?” 

“Undressing,” Five repeated flatly, the word settling uncomfortably in his mind. “What are the rules on that?” 

“There’s a lot you can learn from undressing someone else,” she said, stepping back around bridging the gap between them. “It’s all about teasing, flirting—building anticipation.” 

“I think I’ll stick to undressing myself,” he replied, his tone colder than she’d expected. 

Lila tilted her head, studying him. He came across as so guarded, so touch-starved. “Alright,” she said after a pause. “Do we have to follow the same rules?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, could you undress me, even if I don’t undress you?” she asked, her voice light, but her eyes probing. 

“No,” Five said firmly, watching her face for a reaction. For a moment, he wondered if he’d ruined the whole deal. But then she shrugged, as if brushing it off, and without hesitation, pulled her top over her head. 

In one fluid motion, Lila unclipped her bra and slid her trousers and underwear down in a single move, standing confidently before him. Five’s gaze instinctively roamed over her, his breath hitching for a moment before he forced himself to look away, redirecting his focus.

With deliberate calm, he reached up to loosen his tie, slipping it off with practiced ease and letting it drape around his neck. His fingers moved to the buttons of his waistcoat, unfastening them methodically before continuing to his shirt. Button by button, he removed them both, his movements precise and unhurried.

Once freed, he turned to the wardrobe, hanging the garments neatly on the door handle.

Her eyes swept over him, sharp and appraising. “Huh, your ink’s gone,” she said softly, looking at him closely, “so are your scars.” Before he could respond, her hand reached toward his chest.

He grabbed her wrist in an instant, his grip firm. “Lila,” he warned, his voice low and even.

“Five…” Her tone matched his, a quiet challenge. “You’ll get more out of this if you let me touch you somewhere other than your dick.” Her eyes cast down his chest to his already tented trousers.

“I don’t want more.” His voice hardened, his eyes meeting hers. “Another rule: no unnecessary touching.”

Lila rolled her eyes dramatically. “Define unnecessary.”

“You touching my chest, for one,” he replied, his grip still unyielding.

A sly smirk spread across her face. But before he could react, she leaned forward, her mouth brushing against his chest. Her teeth grazed his nipple, and despite his attempt to take a step back, she stayed on him. 

He let out a sharp hiss that morphed into an unwilling whine. When she finally pulled back, her grin was triumphant. 

“Yours are sensitive too. You sure you want to miss out on that?” she teased.

For a moment, he said nothing, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. She had him, and she knew it.

Without a word, Five pushed her by her arm, releasing her as she allowed the momentum to carry her to the bed. Taking a deliberate step back, his hands moved to his belt. With quick, efficient movements, he unbuckled it, slipped out of his trousers and underwear, and folded them into a neat bundle. He dropped them next to the pile of her clothes before standing upright again.

Lila tilted her head, watching him with an amused grin. “So… are we adding any other stupid rules, or are we finally getting to the good stuff?”

Five stepped between her legs, his knee nudging them apart further as he leaned forward. “Quiet,” he muttered.

She smirked, her gaze never leaving his. “Okay.” Her hand shot out, wrapping around the base of his cock, and she tugged him forward with a skilful confidence. His hands instinctively found her shoulders, steadying himself against her pull, a small wince across his face.

His left hand made its way up her neck to the back of her head, entangling into her hair. Five tilted his head to watch as her mouth inched closer. He twitched involuntarily feeling her breath landing on his tip. She held him up slightly to get her tongue on the underside and trailed it back up to the making sure to give a couple of extra licks between the glans.

Five watched Lila look up at him with a grin through his half-opened eyes. She swirled her tongue around him before taking him in. It was wet warmth which made Five groan low and grip Lila's hair that bit tighter. In turn Five felt her tighten around his base and balls. She didn't need a weapon on him if she had him like that. Five could feel her taking him deeper and resisting the urge to thrust seemed polite but impossible. He gave a small thrust and was met with teeth grazing him.

"Fuck, don't you dare." He barked.

She hummed something back, no doubt a retort. It felt deliberate, another lesson, she could make it feel like her mouth vibrated and a moan left his in response.

The intensity and pressure changed as simple licking and bobbing changed for sucking. His clutch on a handful of hair tightened.

"Li-la..." Her name broke between his moans and she responded with a humming sound against his throbbing member again.

He could feel himself tightening, edging towards relief. His balls lifting, adjusting when she suddenly pulled back releasing him. Five’s breath hitched as Lila pulled back, leaving him throbbing and exposed. The string of saliva and pre-cum glistened between her lips and his length, a smug grin curling on her face as her tongue darted out, breaking the thread.

Five’s glare hardened as he looked down at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Why?” His voice came out sharp, but the faint crack in his tone gave away just how much power she held over him in that moment. 

“Because I’m just as horny,” Lila shot back, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “And if you go off now, you’ll be out for a nap in five minutes, old man.”  

Five rolled his eyes at her, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. His gaze followed her as she shifted onto all fours, crawling up the bed like a cat. He noticed something in the rumpled sheets below where she sat moments ago and couldn’t resist the jab. 

“Good thing it’s your bed and not mine.” 

Lila stopped, glancing over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “I’m pregnant, Five. Looking at a cucumber could make me wet right now.  Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled lowly at her bluntness, shaking his head as he joined her at the top of the bed. “Want me to grab one from the kitchen?” His smirk widened as his eyes roamed over her, shamelessly taking her in. 

“Toys will be like lesson six.  For right now, you need to lay down.” 

For once, he didn’t have a retort. He simply did as she asked, reclining back against the pillows, his arms resting at his sides. 

“Put your arms out,” she instructed, her tone firm. 

His brow arched, but he complied, spreading his arms out to the sides. The bed dipped as Lila climbed on top of him, her legs pinning his arms beneath her thighs. 

“What’s this about?” Five asked, grinning up at her despite himself. 

“I can’t touch you, so I’m making sure as hell you can’t touch me either. Now, you ready to follow instructions, or are you going to make this difficult?” 

Listening, his dimples sunk in deeper.

“Now, lesson two, no forcing your tongue straight in this time.” 

Lila lowered herself onto his mouth, her hands gripping the headboard for balance as she kept some of her weight off him. Five’s hands twitched, unable to move, restrained by the way she’d pinned him. He let out a low, muffled noise against her, and she smirked down at him before closing her eyes, focusing on the sensations. 

He started slow, his tongue dragging up and down against her clit, teasingly light at first. It wasn’t enough—she shifted her hips slightly, pressing herself more firmly against him. Five responded immediately, his tongue flicking with more pressure, more precision. 

“Better,” Lila breathed, her voice a mix of approval and need. Her fingers tightened against the wood of the headboard, knuckles whitening as she let herself move with his rhythm. 

Five groaned softly against her, to see if vibrations worked both ways. Her gasp was all the confirmation he needed. He kept his pace deliberate, alternating between soft licks and firm, swirling movements. Each time she shifted or let out a noise, he adjusted, cataloguing her reactions like they were part of a puzzle he was intent on solving.  

“Good,”  she muttered, her voice wavering as she spoke, showing her growing pleasure. 

Five pulled back just enough to mutter, “I aim to please.”  in a low smug tone, and before she could shoot back anything, he sucked lightly on her clit, pulling a sharp gasp from her lips. 

“God, Five...” Her tone was strained, caught between frustration and surrender. 

He hummed against her in response, surprised to discover he could sense her body reacting to him, even in the subtlest ways. The tension in her legs grew, trembling slightly against his arms. He could feel the rhythmic twitch against his tongue, hear her breaths coming faster, and her nails scraping over the wood of the headboard. Each noise she made grew more urgent, less controlled. She was close—he could tell. 

And then he stopped. 

Her hips bucked forward instinctively, searching for the pressure that had disappeared. She let out a sharp, frustrated breath, lifting herself slightly to glare down at him. “Why did you stop?”  

Five licked his lips with a deliberate slowness, smirking up at her. “Öga for öga. Besides why do you get to and I don’t?”

Her expression shifted, irritation flashing across her face. “Women can have multiple orgasms, that’s not a myth!”

She lowered herself back down, but not fully, hovering slightly as if testing the waters. Her eyes stayed locked on him, waiting for him to refuse or push her away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly, resuming exactly where he’d left off with the same steady rhythm. The moment his tongue met her again, she let out a loud, unabashed moan, her body picking up right where it had left off. The tension returned, climbing faster now, her hips rolling against him as she chased the release he’d just denied her. Her thighs quivered on either side of him, and with a sharp gasp, she tipped over, her body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Lila chest heaved as she came down, her skin flushed and damp. She leaned forward, bracing herself on the headboard as she steadied her breathing. Slowly, she slid off of him, her legs unsteady but her smirk victorious.

Five looked over at her, his face smug and unapologetic.

“Right,” Lila start, still catching her breath. Her voice was commanding but held a playful edge. “Come down further,” as she gestured to the bed.

Five raised a brow but complied, sliding to the centre of the bed. He wiped his glistening mouth with the back of his hand in one swift motion before shifting into place. Lila followed, as she straddled him once more—this time facing the other direction.

“Do what you just did again,” she instructed, lowering herself with deliberate slowness. Her back arched presenting a perfect curve body over him. “Only in reverse. Hands are free now—use them or don’t.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter but Five wasn’t convinced.

She leaned forward, her hands sliding down his shaft, followed by her tongue before angling herself just right, to take him into her mouth. Licking around his head before breaking back into a steady but intentional pace. Five let out a loud, raw moan against her, his hands finally finding their place on her hips, gripping tight as the tension between them reignited.

Lila took him as deep as she could, creating as much of a suction as possible. Five bucked, each motion sending shivers through his body whilst, resuming his own efforts on her cunt. The combination of sensations made her hips rock back and forth against him, their soft moans vibrating in the charged air between them.

But soon, Lila noticed his pace faltering, his attention slipping as his own pleasure began to overtake him. She paused, narrowing her eyes before pulling back slightly. Without warning, the palm of her hand came down hard on the inside of his thigh, a sharp crack echoing through the room.

Five flinched, letting out a grumpy groan that vibrated against her core, causing her to shudder in response.

She pulled off him entirely, holding his erection in her hand, away from her mouth. “You lose focus like that again,” she warned, her voice low but and be could imagine her lips curled into a sickening smile, “the next hit is your balls.”

Five growled against her, against the threat but didn’t say anything. He started up again, picking up speed as he squeezed her hips, hard.

Lila's movements on the other hand, stayed deliberate and teasing. “Good choice,” she murmured between motions, her words muffled but clear enough to help reignite his determination.

Five’s hands left her hips, feeling the sudden urge to do more. He made sure they left her body entirely, focusing on where her breast collided with his body and his hands making their way and cupping her. His fingers brushing over her nipples with a teasing pressure that drew soft, breathy moans from Lila’s nose. Once it sounded like she got used to the sensation he rolled them between his fingers and thumbs, adding more of a twist to them, eliciting almost a cry rather moan. 

She chased the rising heat building deep within her. Her fingers flexed on his thighs, nails digging in. He liked this position, he concluded, neither could see each other face. She couldn’t see how much pleasure he was getting not just from what she was doing but also how pleased he was making a woman feel like this, unravelling above him.

Her breathing grew more erratic, the movements of her body less controlled as she approached the edge. Five pressed his advantage, his tongue working in tandem with the subtle pressure of his fingers on her sensitive spots, determined to tip her over before he allowed himself to.

With a sharp gasp through her nose and a strangled moan, Lila tensed above him, her body trembling as the climax overtook her. She ground herself against him, riding the waves of pleasure as her breathing came in short, uneven bursts.

Five fingers stopped playing but his hands cupped her breasts as he lapped her clean. Once satisfied he stopped, Lila to shifted onto her knees allowing Five to breathe easier with his already shortened breath. Groans filled the room, as her hand moved from his thigh to cradle his balls, gently massaging them. He felt them tense, signalling once more he was nearing his limit.

A strangled moan escaped his lips as the tension reached its peak, his body arching slightly as he came, the release leaving him shuddering beneath her. She didn’t pull away, instead continuing her movements until he was spent, swallowing his load.

Lila finally pulled off, throwing her leg over and turning to face him whilst wiping her mouth with her thumb, wearing a smug but tired grin. Five ran a hand through his hair, pealing it off of his forehead before looking down. Both thighs had moon crescent red marks and on his left, a red hand print. When he looked back up at Lila he saw her chuckle slightly.

“You can’t complain, old man.”

“And why not.”

Her hands rubbed her breast especially on her nipples. “Cos you got as good as you gave.”

“I beg to differ.” He said a small huff out of his nose.

“They are crazy sensitive right now but you’re lucky I’m into a bit of pain.”

“Good to know.” He said, finally catching enough of his breath, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and stand up.

“Which bit.”

“Both.” Bending over he picked up his trousers and underwear before reaching over for his other clothes he left hanging. He turned back to her, seeing her sprawling herself across the bed. No words came to him. What was he meant to say? Thanks? In the end he settled on something simple.

“Night.” And walked out the room.

Chapter Text

Five started to grow concerned when Lila hadn’t come down for breakfast the following morning. The events of the previous evening weighed on his mind—had things become too complicated? Was she deliberately avoiding him, or was she simply feeling too sick to get out of bed?

He spooned the last of his cereal into his mouth, drained his coffee, and skimmed the newspaper he’d picked up from the front step earlier. As always, he scoured it for any subtle warnings—anything that could blow up, literally or figuratively, in their faces. His notepad and pen sat beside him on the table, a few notes already jotted down in his all capital handwriting. When he was satisfied that The City Paper didn’t hold any apocalyptic red flags for the day, he folded it neatly, set it aside, and carried his empty bowl and cup to the kitchen.

As he placed them in the sink, his eyes lingered on the loaf of bread sitting on the counter. He debated whether to make her something—toast, maybe, or a simple sandwich. Would that seem too much? Too... personal? He frowned, his hands resting on the counter as he mulled it over. On one hand, if she was feeling unwell, it might help. On the other, if she was avoiding him, an unsolicited gesture might make things worse.

He sighed, glancing toward the stairs as though willing her to appear and resolve his internal debate. But the house remained quiet, leaving him to wrestle with the small but nagging uncertainty of what to do next.

Pulling out a couple of slices, he checked for mould, and slid them into the toaster. While waiting, he poured himself a second cup of coffee and prepared a glass of water and orange juice. When the toast popped, he plated it and headed upstairs, knocking softly on her door. 

“You okay?” he called. Any response was muffled. 

“Can I come in?” he tried again. This time, there might’ve been a groan. 

What was the worst that could happen? She might be naked? It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen everything less than 12 hours ago. 

He opened the door cautiously. Sure enough, she was at least half naked, sprawled on her back across the bed, a sheet haphazardly covering her bottom half. Her bare chest rose and fell with each breath, her breasts naturally parted to the sides. 

“You better not be perving,” she muttered, eyes still closed. 

“What, not one of the benefits I get to reap?” 

She let out a dry chuckle, stretching with a yawn that was almost feline. After a few blinks, she slowly sat up, leaning against the headboard, completely unbothered by her nudity. Five, by contrast, was fully clothed in a dark green jumper and blue jeans. 

“Um…where’s Five gone?” she asked, gesturing to his outfit. 

“Both shirts need washing, and we don’t have much white. Might as well do them together.” He shrugged, holding out the plate. “Brought you breakfast.” 

He placed the drinks on the bedside table and, with a deliberate tug, pulled the covers up higher on her.

“What, covering my modesty now?” 

“No, I just don’t want you getting crumbs in the bed.” 

“It’s my bed.” 

“And I don’t want to feel crumbs the next time I’m in it.” 

“Next time, huh? Guess I didn’t put you off last night.” 

“Not at all,” Five said with a smirk, leaving out the fact that the thought had crossed his mind too. 

“Good.” She took a bite of the toast. “Thanks, Five. For breakfast, I mean.” 

Five’s expression softened into a small, genuine smile. 

“You can sit up here, lean against the headboard if you want,” Lila offered between bites. 

“I left my coffee downstairs.” It could have sounded like an excuse that he wanted to leave so he quickly added, “I didn’t have enough hands. I’ll grab it and come back.” 

For just a second, he caught a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile as she took another bite. 

When he returned, coffee in hand, he shifted the spare pillow against the headboard and crossed his legs as he sat beside her. 

“So, what’s the plan today?” Lila asked. 

“Not sure yet.” 

Lila had nearly finished her second slice when Five noticed a few more crumbs falling onto her chest. He chuckled into his coffee. 

“What?” she asked, feigning annoyance. 

“Good thing I pulled the cover up—you make such a mess.” 

Lila glanced down at the crumbs and shrugged. “Gives you something to hoover up.” 

“We don’t have a hoover,” Five replied dryly. 

“For a genius, you can be so dense.” 

He looked at her, catching the playful grin as she shook her head. 

“I see. Already up for more?” 

She shrugged, but her grin told him everything. 

Five leaned in, his tongue darting out as he gently dabbed at the crumbs on her chest, collecting them one by one. 

Lila giggled, her body wriggling slightly. “Doesn’t this count as unnecessary touching?” 

“Completely necessary,” he replied, voice low. “I don’t want crumbs on me. Besides...” His hand slid up to her breast, cupping it with surprising tenderness compared to the night before. “These are definitely necessary.” 

“Oh?” she teased, raising a brow. “For you or me?” 

“Both,” he said with a sly grin. 

She laughed, playfully shoving his head away but making no effort to remove his hand. Instead, she leaned back comfortably, flinging the plate onto the nightstand.

“So, what’s this lesson, then?” His hand continued the soft massage as she seemed to be relaxing into it.

“Well, considering I’m naked and you’re not... I think it should be on me.” 

“Is that so?” Dimples dipped as his smile widened.

“Sit back, against the headboard. Legs apart.” 

He complied, surprised at how easy it was to listen to her in moments like this. For someone who always craved control, surrendering it, even briefly, felt strangely natural. Leaning back, he positioned himself as she instructed, though the calmness didn’t last long. His pulse quickened the moment she slid between his legs, her back pressing against his chest.

“Lila…” His voice carried a warning edge, sharp but laced with uncertainty.

“There’s that bite again,” she murmured, her head tilting just enough to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye.

The proximity unsettled him—not unpleasantly, but in a way that he couldn’t describe. It had been years, maybe decades, since he had let someone be this close to him. Hugs from his siblings were stiff and never reciprocated, and although Lila had tried to hug him a couple of times at Hotel Obsidian, he’d always managed to sidestep them. The most she’d succeeded in was draping an arm around his shoulders.

This, however, was different. Her body was fully pressed against him, her warmth impossible to ignore. If he moved his arms, even slightly, he could encircle her completely, hold her close in a way that felt completely overwhelming.

Lila shifted slightly, sliding down just enough that her body moulded against his, the movement came across completely casually. “There,” she said softly. “I trust everything is well presented?”

Five glanced over her shoulder. Everything was well presented. She was perfectly framed in his view—soft curves and smooth skin that seemed to glow in the morning light. His gaze trailed along her collarbone and lower to her breasts, which rose and fell with her steady breathing. Her legs parted wide and her pink lips splayed. His hands remained planted on the bed, though the temptation to touch was growing unbearable. 

“Lesson three: fingering. You’re a leftie, like me, right?” 

He nodded, his focus split between her words and the way her body seemed to draw his eyes to every detail. 

Without warning, Lila reached for his left hand. She brought it to her mouth, parting it as she slipped his index and middle fingers in. Her tongue swirled around them, wetting them thoroughly with slow, deliberate strokes. Five’s breath caught at the sensation, his fingers flexing instinctively against her tongue. After their activity last night his arousal reacted so quickly to the familiar sensations that he had elsewhere prior. 

When she was satisfied, she guided his hand lower, down her body. Her other hand reached between her legs, parting herself further. 

As his fingers reached her folds, her grip remaining on his wrist, firm yet gentle. Slowly her fingers slid down, joining, resting on top of his.

"I'll guide you, show you what I like, okay?" He nodded, shifting slightly as his erection against his jeans was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable.

She started slow, her fingers resting lightly atop his, guiding his movements with deliberate care. She had him trace gentle strokes up and down her clit, encouraging a steady rhythm. The motion was measured, her hand over his ensuring each pass was purposeful, her hips shifting slightly to meet the sensation.

“Just like that,” she murmured.

As he grew more confident, she led him to extend the motion, his touch traveling from the top all the way down. The length of his finger followed her guidance, gliding against her until he brushed against a spot just slightly warmer, drawing a soft, breathy sigh from her. They repeated this pattern, the deliberate exploration but not fully going in, just teasing her opening.

After several cycles, she gently pulled his hand back upward, returning the focus to her bundle of nerves. Her fingers pressed more firmly against his now, adjusting the pressure and pace, encouraging him to roll it lightly in small, deliberate circles.

Her supervision was precise, steady but never rigid, allowing him to feel the nuances of what she wanted. Every shift of her body, every hitch in her breath, subtly reinforced that he was following her lead.

Five's gaze shifted between her face, her parted lips releasing soft sounds of pleasure, and his hand disappearing between her legs.

“You’re a quick learner,” she teased, her head falling back against his shoulder. The playful tone in her voice was still there, but it was layered with genuine pleasure.

"Fast reflexes," he replied, his lips brushing her ear, his own voice low and controlled.

She let out a soft laugh, but it quickly turned into a quiet moan as his fingers found a new angle.

Before releasing him to explore on his own, her hand directed him one last time, pushing his fingers towards her entrance. Her fingers pushed on one of his. "One first, then two, it's polite."

He groaned in a listening response feeling how warm she was. He slowly dipped his finger in and out.

"You can stay in and do a come here motion instead if you want."

He tried it out in several angles until he got a response he was looking for, continuing the motion a few more times before pulling out and adding the second digit in at the same time. Her hand rejoined him briefly as she positioned his thumb back to her clitoris.

Less than 24 hours ago, he told her he was indifferent about sex. How he went so long already, what did matter if he went longer. Yet right in this second there was nothing he wanted to do than to bury his cock in her deep. He needed to shift—urgently. The tension coiled in his body felt intolerable, like he was wound too tight with nowhere to go. His fingers never faltered, continuing the deliberate 'come here' motion inside her, but he couldn't ignore the uncomfortable strain anymore.

Gently, he pressed his right hand to her back, urging her forward just enough to give himself room. He reached down, slipping his hand behind her, fumbling with his belt, buttons, and zip until he loosened them enough to ease the pressure. The small sigh of relief that escaped his lips felt almost as necessary as air.

Letting her body fall back against him, he resumed his focus, but his eyes lingered on her neck. The curve of it was maddening, the perfect invitation for his lips, his teeth. He swallowed hard, the urge to lean in, to mark her there, rising like a tide. His thoughts wavered as he considered it—did it really count as breaking the no-kissing rule if it wasn’t her lips?

The frustrated sigh that escaped him wasn’t entirely intentional, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Lila caught it, assuming he needed a distraction, her hand slid down to grab his free one and guided it upward onto her breast.

"Play like you did earlier."

"No whining I'm too rough then Doll." He massaged her right breast, still being tentatively gentle despite his threat.

"You're, just bitchy, cos you're, all, wound up." Hearing how much she struggled with the sentence gave him further satisfaction.

Her moans became more desperate and just listening to her starting to come undone made him wonder if it was possible he could from the mere touch and sound of it all. He could feel the tensing pressure, coiling around his fingers.

Just when he thought she was going to go, her hand went back down and pulled him off, out.

His eyes looked over at her face with a quizzical stare but she didn’t answer. Instead she turned on the spot facing him for a second, before she started to back away and then stood off the bed. Five didn't need to ask or wait for direction. He followed, standing, finally freeing his erection fully and kicking his clothes away.

"Keep your jumper on." Lila ordered and although confused. Five didn't argue as she pushed him into a sitting position on the edge of the bed as she straddled him. "Less skin to skin, better for you right?"

He nodded but he wasn't actually sure in that moment he agreed. Feeling her breasts ride up and down his body sounded amazing but as he quickly realised as she lowered herself onto his lap, her arms needed to be wrapped around him, her hands anchoring to his shoulders. It minimised the touch.

His hands gripped the sheets at his sides, steadying himself as she began to move. Taken back slightly at how effortlessly she had managed to slide onto him in the first place. Despite the barrier of his jumper, the moment felt surprisingly intimate—more so than before in the hotel. He was laying down then. Less contact. Maybe he should offer to lay down now. Or was this part of the lesson plan, a new position?

Five tried to focus, to stay present, but the sensations were overwhelming. His body felt taut like a wire, every nerve ending alight with the warmth and tightness of her around him. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hush himself, but it was impossible not to let out another groan when she shifted slightly, adjusting the angle just enough to send sparks shooting up his spine.

Lila smirked at the sound, clearly pleased with herself. “For someone who was claiming to be indifferent about this,” she murmured, her voice teasing but breathy, “you’re certainly making a lot of noise.” It was like she was in his head. He hated it.

He glared up at her, though it lacked any real heat. “If you don’t want me to make noise, maybe stop being so—” His words were cut off as she ground her hips into his, stealing whatever witty comeback he’d been about to say. His hands gripped the sheets harder as hers slid down from his shoulders to his wrists, guiding them up to her waist. "Move with me.”

He hesitated for a split second before his fingers splayed across her skin, gripping her hips firmly. The feel of her under his hands made him twitch, and quickly he fell into sync with her movements, helping guide her as she rode him.

“Good,” she praised, leaning in just enough that her forehead rested against his.

His lips parted, as if to say something, but the words never came. Instead, his head tilted slightly, his nose brushing against hers for a fleeting moment.

Lila pulled back just enough to create some space. She tilted her head back in such a way Five couldn’t decide if it was a deliberate reaction to his nose or simply out of pleasure. He could see it, she was chasing her needs to an end. Her arm draped around his neck, hand tight on his shoulder as her other slipped between them, rubbing her swollen nub. Her rhythm staying strong, her body tensing around him. Gasps and soft cries filled his ears as the sound drove him closer to the edge.

Their connection felt almost electric in that moment, their movements perfectly aligned as they both gave in, the intensity of their release overwhelming. Her body tensed, her head falling forward onto his shoulder, while he gripped her tightly, his breath ragged in her ear. 

For a few moments, the world seemed to stop. They stayed there, locked in that perfect stillness, their hearts pounding in tandem as they slowly came back to themselves. Neither of them saying anything.

The shift felt sudden and jarring as the coolness from the air hit his wet member when Lila slid off his lap. As she walked around to her chest of drawers, he couldn’t help but notice the glistening mess, dripping down her thigh. “Certainly one way to start the day,” she said, bundling clothes into her arms. She paused in the doorway, turning slightly. “I’m gonna hit the shower.”

Five nodded, bending down to retrieve his discarded jeans and underwear. The back of his sleeve of his jumper patted at his brow. The thick top being a bit too much for the activity.

“Jeans actually suit you and they fit you well, by the way,” she added, gesturing toward the clothes. “Your suit was starting to look tight.”

“I know,” he replied, starting to dress. “Body’s still playing catch-up with the mind, it seems. I think I’ve aged another year in the span of a week.”

“Shit.” Lila paused. He could see the hesitation in her expression as she debated whether to continue. “When do you think it’ll stop?”

He pulled his trousers up, considering. “I’ve got a few theories. One: very soon—I’m not getting any taller than I was at nineteen. Two: it stops when I reach the age I should have been if I’d stayed and didn’t get lost. That’d make me thirty this October and still physically the youngest of my siblings. And three—my least favourite option—it doesn’t stop until I catch up to my true age.” He glanced at her, gauging her reaction before continuing. “By my calculations, we’ll be able to rule out the first theory in about two and a half weeks. The second one? Roughly thirty-nine weeks. But even if I pass thirty, figuring out if I’m still aging will take a while, so maybe forty-five weeks at least. Silver lining is, I won’t need to buy bigger clothes now.”

He buckled his belt and glanced at Lila. She stood silently, her brow furrowed, as though mentally calculating the implications of his words.

“So... you could be about forty-two years old when the little one’s born?” she asked softly.

“Potentially.” He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Hopefully not. Anyway, it’s not worth worrying about yet.”

“I guess,” her voice unusually quiet. When he looked at her again, he caught how she bit her lip as she turned away, leaving the doorway empty.

Five stared after her for a moment. It didn’t take an intellectual to piece together the thoughts likely swirling in her head—or the implications he’d been trying to avoid dwelling on himself. What was happening to his organs? His brain? His bone density? The persistent growth pains he’d been dealing with over the past few weeks at least should slow down and stop now. He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly grateful he’d never been tall.

Chapter Text

When Lila came downstairs, her blond hair was still damp and clung to her neck. Five noticed that more dark roots were starting to show as he gave her a small half smile waving his notebook in the air.

“You know,” he said, looking back at the pad for a second, “a few of these Sloanes aren’t that far away.”

Lila ran a hand through her hair, combing it with her fingers and plopped onto the couch. “Didn’t we call most of them already?”

“Not all of them picked up,” Five replied, flipping to a page. “Could be worth a couple of days’ trip.”

“Look at you, wanting to do a road trip,” Lila teased, stretching her legs out.

Five glanced at her before dotting down a couple of notes. “Yeah, well, my last one got interrupted by a kugelblitz. You asked what we should get up to today, how about we get a car and go.”

She shot him a toothy grin. “Know where we can hire one?”

“Actually, I was thinking about buying one.”

“For someone worried about the end of the world, you’re pretty loose with cash. Just how much do you have stashed away?”

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder about,” Five quipped, circling another name in his notebook. “Besides, if we die, I can’t take it with me, can I?” He caught himself, suddenly aware he was teetering toward his usual pessimism. A car wasn’t just a frivolity—it was a tool, something useful in an emergency. But he’d told Lila he’d try to rein in his bleak outlook, so he left out his true motive behind the idea.

“Did you use one in your apocalypse?” Lila asked, getting off the sofa, pulling on her shoes as Five grabbed his.

“No, not really,” he replied as they stepped outside. “Most were too modern or electric, and hotwiring was next to impossible. Keys buried under rubble didn’t help either.”

“But you still found something,” she prodded, watching his expression shift ever so slightly.

“I joyrode a Mustang for a little while,” Five admitted, almost looking a little proud. There wasn’t much he could call an accomplishment in those days. Having a few hours of fun was certainly a victory.

Lila gave a small smile as they started to walk.

---

They reached the local car dealership and began wandering through the lot. Rows of vehicles from all brands and years gleamed in the morning sun, but Five’s attention snagged on one in particular. He stopped in his tracks, a rare lopsided smile appearing on his face as he approached a classic 1970s Corvette Stingray in Mulsanne blue.

“So this is what catches your eye,” Lila said, watching him circle the car, peeking through the windows.

“Just look at it,” Five murmured, pulling the handle. To his delight, the door opened, and he slid into the driver’s seat.

“You’re gonna lose that smirk when you see the price tag,” Lila warned, leaning into the passenger side.

Five ran his fingers over the steering wheel, clearly savouring the moment.

With a sigh, his hands dropped giving his thighs a quick rub before leaning back slightly in to the seat.

“Finally found something too expensive for your mysterious bank account?”

“I didn’t say that,” Five countered.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“It’s not practical.”

Lila rolled her eyes, glancing over her shoulder at the lack of back seats. “I mean, sure, but you could still cram some cans and water in the boot.”

“There are no back seats Lila.” Five opened the door and climbed out, his tone casual as if she was blind for not seeing the same problem.

Lila blinked, following him. “Why would that matter?”

“No space for a car seat. I’ll probably be picking you and the kid up or driving you around at some point,” Five said with a shrug, already walking toward the next row of cars. “Just need a five-door with decent spac—”

“There’s no baby yet,” Lila interjected quickly, her voice sharper than intended.

“Right?” Five raised an eyebrow as Lila leant against a Volkswagen Jetta, running her hand over metal.

“So... why not just take the Stingray for a couple of days ‘test drive’?” Now it was her tone which made him out to be the mad one.

“I think they might notice the mileage when I bring it back.”

“Roll the counter back,” Lila suggested with a sly grin.

Five narrowed his eyes. “Sounds like you’ve done that before.”

“Maybe,” Lila said, her smirk growing.

Five chuckled softly. It was only a few weeks ago he declared how much he hated that smile.

“Okay,” he said finally, a note of amusement in his voice. “What do I tell them when I bring it back?”

“Your bitch of a pregnant girlfriend said no way in hell and you need something more practical. Then you can get whatever ‘soccer mom’ car you want.”

Five lips curved and with a small nod walked into the deal ship office, leaving Lila to loiter around outside. After some smooth-talking with the salesman, Five drove the Stingray off the lot, around the corner where Lila walked to catch up to him. Their plan appeared to have gone without a hitch.

Back at home, they packed a couple of small shopping bags with essentials, a couple of days of clothes, some canned goods and snacks. Five made sure to grab a 5 litre bottle of water to sit next to the bags in the trunk as well, whilst making a mental note to buy backpacks at some point.

Once satisfied, he loaded it up into the car and watched Lila come outside with the kitchen sink bowl.

“What’s that for?”

“If you can’t pull over in time.” She said with a shrug and Five grimaced realising it was a make shift sick bucket. However, the bowl was a better idea than them not being able to return the car.

They both slid into the car, even with the bowl on her lap, Five couldn’t help but notice a satisfied look about her. The words she said on their first night at the hotel rang in his mind. ‘You say that, but we both know you love a new adventure. And teaming up with me?’ She wasn’t wrong, and them going for this spontaneous road trip felt like the perfect thing to just get out of his head for a little bit. A night away meant not needing to take inventory. Maybe even a meal out, something he was sure Lila would enjoy. Picking food out which took her fancy, rather than what had already been dictated to her a few days prior.

A road atlas was conveniently left in the glove compartment, which he reached in and grabbed along with his notebook from his jeans pocket. He opened the pad to a very specific page.

“Here, it has the three addresses written down. Up for navigating?”

“Giving me your diary?”

“Just keep it on that page.”

“Oh shit! What is in here then?” She went to flick through it as Five snatched it back off of her, ripping out the page.

The idea that she would have had every thought that had gone through is mind in the last few days in the palm of her hand unnerved Five. He handed back just the piece of paper. He watched her flip it over in her hands disappointed to see the other side just had more Sloanes listed. Ignoring her pout, Five turned the key, the Corvette's engine roared to life as he eased it out of the parking spot outside the house. He heard her playful huff as she reached over and turned on the radio.

The drive started smoothly enough. Lila, with her feet propped up on the dash-much to Five’s annoyance-flipped between stations, searching for something that caught her interest. Each time she landed on a song she liked, she turned up the volume, belting out lyrics with zero regard for whether or not she knew all the words.

Five’s hands tightened on the wheel as the station switched for the third time in ten minutes. “Could you please leave it on one channel for more than thirty seconds?”

“I’m curating the vibe,” she replied breezily, skipping past a commercial.

“I’d settle for just one vibe,” he shot back, his tone dry.

When Lila finally stopped on a station playing an upbeat pop song, Five’s frayed nerves took an uncharacteristic pause. Her voice—pitchy but enthusiastic—filled the car, cutting through the monotony of the drive. Against his better judgment, the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

Then the song ended, and before Five could enjoy a moment of auditory stability, she switched the station again.

“Lila,” he snapped, barely concealing his irritation.

“What?” she replied innocently, scrolling through static.

“Pick. A. Channel.”

She ignored him.

Five took a slow, measured breath, willing himself to focus on the road. As much as the channel hopping was driving him sightly nuts he knew the radio being off would be worse. The idea of silence whilst driving around sounded like a form of torture, knowing intrusive thoughts would start to plague his mind. He had done enough of it. The sound of the red wagon’s wheels crunching over rubble whilst his mind played the worst game of ‘what if.’

What if today you don’t find any drinkable water?

What if you never work out the equation to get back home.

What if you get home and there is still nothing you can do to stop the apocalypse. You have a prosthetics eye for your only clue and that’s a stretch. Nothing in the newspapers to discuss any impending doom. You just know the date it will happen.

Sure, Dolores had been a great conversationalist in the back of the wagon. Never complained about the weather, never failed to make him smile. But even he hadn’t been that insane at first. In the beginning, he’d still known the difference. Knew he had to think up her responses himself. And although that distinction had blurred over the years, he was also aware that back then, if his mind started spiralling, there had been no one to pull him out of it—

“Oh, this one’s good!” Lila declared, turning up the volume again.

“Do you ever sit still?” he asked, as her feet planted back onto the floor, only to allow her fingers to drum against the bowl on her lap in time with the music.

“Do you ever lighten up?” she shot back with a grin.

He didn’t answer. For all her antics, he concluded there was something oddly grounding about her presence. His mind wandered briefly to their destination: the first Sloane on their list, a three-hour drive from the house. They had no idea if she’d even be home or if she’d bother answering the door.

---

When they pulled up to the address, both of them paused to take in the sight of the house. It was a big, suburban dream—clean-cut lawn, freshly painted shutters, and the kind of place that practically screamed family life.

“Maybe she lives with her parents in this timeline?” Lila suggested, her tone lighter than the weight of the moment.

“If the first Sloane we find happens to be our Sloane, I’m buying a lottery ticket,” Five deadpanned, his eyes scanning the property.

They sat in the car a moment longer, both aware of how conspicuous they looked in the sleek car they'd borrowed. Two strangers, sitting in a vintage Stingray which didn’t look like it belong in the neighbourhood—it wasn’t exactly subtle. Five was only now realising how little thought he’d put into this particular detail.

Two cars were parked in the driveway, neither of them fancy but well-maintained. A minivan and a compact SUV.

“How would this work?” Lila mused aloud. “Could this be Sloane if Reginald never got his hands on her? Or is it more like… our Sloane just takes over the body of this Sloane? Or maybe…”

“She simply doesn’t exist here,” Five interjected flatly.

Lila shot him a glare. “Hey, Mr pessimistic, considering we drove all the way out here, how about we try out some of that optimism you’ve been working on, yeah?”

Five rolled his eyes as she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car.

“Oi!” he barked, following suit. “Where are you going?”

“Cars are here. Lights are on. Somebody’s home,” she called back over her shoulder, already striding confidently across the road. “Might as well knock and find out.”

“And what exactly are you planning to say?” Five demanded, catching up to her. “Hi, we’re looking for this guy’s sister-in-law, but you’re probably not her, so don’t mind us? Maybe plan first, then move.”

"Boring!" Lila sing-songed, not slowing down for a second.

Five sighed, dragging a hand down his face as she marched straight up to the door and knocked without hesitation. She rocked on her heels, hands clasped behind her back like this was all part of some grand plan.

“Lila, I’m serious,” Five muttered, catching up. “We need to—”

The door swung open before he could finish, revealing a woman in her mid-thirties, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. Tall, graceful, dark hair pulled into a neat ponytail.

“Hello?” she asked, brows raised in mild curiosity.

Lila’s smile was instant. “Good afternoon! We’re from the Fix the Stop Signs Foundation—fighting to replace those terribly faded signs around town.”

The lady frowned. “I… didn’t know that was a problem.”

“Exactly. That’s why we’re here. It’s a silent crisis.”

Five stared at her. Then, deciding to lean in rather than just watch the car crash unfold, he pulled a notepad from his jeans, flipping it open like a seasoned professional.

“The stop sign on Michigan Ave, for example,” he said smoothly. “Four streets away, near the school. We’re just gathering names right now, so when our colleague comes around with the petition, we know which homes to revisit.”

He watched her fold her arms a little defensively. “Why not just bring the petition now?”

“You’d be shocked at how many people don’t care about the safety of their own neighbourhoods,” Lila sighed dramatically. “They send us volunteers out first—gauge interest, cut costs, that sort of thing.”

The woman’s scepticism wavered. “So, you two are doing this… for free?”

“Absolutely.” Lila beamed. “When you do something for love, it never feels like a chore.”

Five shot her a look that could curdle milk. “Uh-huh.” He chimed in not really feeling the agreement.

She hesitated, then shrugged. “Alright, sure. We’ve had several issues with people using this street like their own race track, maybe better lit and clean stop signs would help. It’s Sloane Johnson.”

Five was already stepping back. “They’ll be back in two to five days, assuming we get enough names.”

Sloane gave a small smile. “Good luck with it.” She closed the door, leaving them standing awkwardly on the porch.

Lila exhaled, stretching her arms overhead. “Right name, wrong person. Bust.”

“Not to mention painfully awkward,” Five muttered as they turned toward the car. “Next time, tell me what you’re planning.”

“It’s called improv,” Lila said, nudging his side whilst he felt his eye twitch.

Back in the car, Five grabbed the paper from the console, striking a sharp line through the first Sloane on the list.

“The next one’s two hours away,” he said matter-of-factly. “If we leave now, we can check it out and find a motel after, before it gets too late. Tomorrow, we hit the last one and head home.”

“Sounds good, Mr. Satnav,” Lila said, leaning back and giving another stretch before resettling back in. “But first, we’ve got to make a pit stop.”

“Fine. Need fuel anyway. This car’s is like Klaus at an open bar.”

As he started the engine, Lila noticed the slight quirk of a smile on his face, hearing the car purr. For all his complaints, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

After a quick stop at a gas station for fuel and a bathroom break, they were back on the highway. Five had grown surprisingly good at tuning Lila out—that was, until she let out a loud gasp, causing him to grip the wheel tighter.

“What now?” he snapped, glancing over at her.

“Did you see that sign?” Lila said, practically bouncing in her seat.

“No,” Five said, his tone a mix of suspicion and exhaustion.

“There’s a Mystery House just off this road!” she exclaimed, pointing ahead as if he’d somehow missed the enormous billboard advertising a crooked-looking house and “Impossible Rooms!”

Five raised an eyebrow. “A tourist trap?”

“Don’t be boring, Fiv-.”

But before Lila could finish off her sentence he had already slowed down as the exit loomed closer. Without another word, he signalled and turned off.

Lila turned to him, eyes wide with mock surprise. “Wait, did you just willingly choose to detour? What’s gotten into you?”

Five gave a playful huff, keeping his eyes on the road. “Maybe I just wanted to see how ridiculous it actually is. Or I want a break from you butchering every song on the radio.”

Lila didn’t miss the way his tone softened at the end, though. And as they pulled into the gravel parking lot of the Mystery House, she couldn’t help but feel a little flutter of satisfaction.

The mystery house was as much of a scam as they’d expected. One room had furniture glued to the ceiling, giving the illusion of walking on the roof. Another was lined floor to ceiling with mirrors, making it impossible to tell where the walls actually were. There was a so-called "gravity room" where the floor slanted at an uncomfortable angle, making people stumble around like drunks. And then there was the grand finale—a "portal to another dimension," which turned out to be nothing more than a hallway with swirling LED lights and a fog machine.

“That was…” Lila started on the way back to the car.

“A waste of money,” Five finished dryly. “Well, let’s see if this next Sloane is the one.”

She wasn’t. Not that either of them were particularly surprised. The only small mercy was that they didn’t have to get out of the car this time. They pulled up just as a young woman stepped out of her own car, wrangling two small children toward the house. They only got confirmation of her name when a neighbour called out, “Sloane!”

Five sighed and put the car back into gear.

“Motel it is,” Lila said, shooting him a look that, for once, wasn’t full of mischief. If he squinted, it might have even been sympathy. But before he could dwell on it, she was fiddling with the radio again.

He hadn’t expected to find Sloane, not really. But the familiar weight of disappointment settled over him anyway.

“It's going to have to be semi-decent,” Lila added, slumping back in her seat. “At least good enough to have a microwave for those cans of… whatever the hell you brought.”

“We’re not eating the cans,” Five said, already bracing for the oncoming rant. Before she could launch into it, he cut her off. “They’re for emergencies. We’ll go out for dinner.”

Lila perked up. “Does it have to be a restaurant?”

“No. What do you want?” 

“Wendy’s. We can eat in the car before finding somewhere to sleep for the night.”

Five glanced at her. “You want to eat takeaway in the car?”

“Isn’t that exactly where takeaway’s meant to be eaten? Hence drive-thrus?”

He gave her a long, unimpressed look. “If you make a mess—”

“Fine, we can sit on the bonnet and eat it.”

“Your ass will dent the hood! How about we sit inside like normal people?”

Lila huffed but didn’t argue, which, in hindsight, should have been his first clue that this was a bad idea.

As soon as they pulled up to the Wendy's, Five regretted everything.

He could see the place was packed from outside—kids screeching, people loitering near tables like vultures. How had they gone from the dead silence of backroads and empty houses to this absolute hellscape in the span of twenty minutes?

“Do we have to eat here?” he muttered.

Lila grinned. “All my stomach is craving now that you’ve mentioned it.” She gestured toward the bucket by her feet. “Considering I haven’t had to use that yet, I’d like to keep it that way.”

Five exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Fine.” He scanned the area whilst leaving the car. “There’s a bench outside. Grab it. What do you want?”

She lit up. “Cheeseburger, but hold the pickles. Add bacon if it doesn’t already come with it. Ooooh, and grilled onions—not fried. Fries, but ask for no salt, and grab packets so I can add a little. And—”

Five grabbed her hand as she went towards the bench, pulling her back towards the door.

“I’m not memorising all of that. You’re coming in with me.”

Lila snorted. “Thought you had a photographic brain or some shit?”

“Right, and I can’t shift-delete that crap, so I’m not wasting valuable space on your ridiculous order.”

“You being half computer makes sense, given your lack of emotional bandwidth,” she shot back.

Five rolled his eyes but barely had time to react before she squeezed his hand in hers. It was brief and his body tensed anyway, letting go immediately, swapping her hand for the door handle instead.

By the time they got their food and stepped outside, the benches were full.

Five sighed, glancing at the car like it was their only option, but Lila grabbed his arm, tugging him in another direction.

“Over there!”

A small patch of grass sat just past the parking lot, slightly elevated from the sidewalk. Five crouched and ran a hand over it—dry, no mud. Acceptable.

They sat cross-legged on the grass, Wendy’s bags rustling between them. Lila passed him one of the drinks before immediately popping the lid off her milkshake. She grabbed a fry, dipped it in, and took a bite with an exaggerated hum of satisfaction.

Five stared at her, slightly amused. “Please tell me that’s a pregnancy craving.”

Lila snorted. “It’s no different from PB&J, or those weird fluffnutters or whatever you called them. It’s salty, savoury, and sweet.”

The next thing he knew, a soggy fry was dangling in front of him, perilously close to dripping on his sleeve. Five’s reflexes kicked in, and he ate it before it could make a mess.

“Well?” Lila smirked, watching his brow knit together as he considered.

He sighed, popped the lid off his own milkshake, and dipped a fry in.

Lila cackled. “Take that as a yes, then!”

He didn’t respond, but a small smile crept onto his face. He shoved another fry into his shake to mask it.

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the occasional hum of passing cars in the car park filling the quiet.

Then Lila spoke. “Did you ever try growing anything in your apocalypse? You know, to eat?”

“I spent most of my time in a library. Anything I could’ve grown would’ve needed water, and I needed that more. I collected rainwater but after boiling it, I drank it. Most plants are seasonal anyway and wouldn’t have been worth the effort of the upkeep.”

He reached to pick up and start his burger but paused when he noticed a dandelion near his foot, its seeds half blown away. He plucked it idly, twirling it between his fingers.

“Dandelion leaves were good, though. Nettles too. I foraged for mushrooms sometimes.”

Lila raised an eyebrow. “Bet that had some mishaps.”

Five stiffened almost imperceptibly, tossing the dandelion and turning back to his burger. Taking a bite to mark the end of the conversation.

She didn’t need to know.

Didn’t need to know that he’d figured out just the right mix—the perfect dose to drag himself out of hell for a few blissful hours.

Didn’t need to know that the right blend of shrooms had made Dolores feel real, that for a short while, he could almost believe she was sitting next to him, talking, laughing—alive.

That by the end, the visuals only came when he was strung out, but her voice? That lingered after years and he didn’t need the mushrooms anymore to hear her voice.

Five swallowed the bite of burger like it had suddenly turned to sandpaper in his throat.

He could feel her eyes on him, studying him for a beat, clearly noting the shift in his expression, but she didn’t press. Instead, he caught her stealing a fry from his bag and dipping it into her shake, her eyes drifting toward the sky.

Chapter Text

After burgers, chips and milkshakes had gone down, they had made their way to a motel which Five parked outside of. The dim glow of a neon sign signalled there was at least a room available. As Lila stepped out, she placed a hand on her belly, giving it a gentle rub.

"Uncomfortable?" Five asked, shutting his door and waiting for her to do the same before locking the car.

"Just feel a bit bloated, I guess," she replied with a shrug.

He gestured toward the office. "C’mon let’s get some rooms and sleep before the long drive back tomorrow."

"Room Five, singular, don’t need two this time ok." Lila stated as they strolled toward the desk. "Places like these always have two beds in a room as an option anyway."

They both grimaced, exchanging a knowing look. It wasn’t lost on either of them why they both knew that detail all too well. Though Five was never partnered with anyone during his time at the Commission, he couldn’t say the same for Lila for certain.

Suddenly thoughts of when they were back at the Commission a few weeks ago, flooded his brain. Lila had moved through the building like second nature, even in its decrepit state. It made sense. She grew up there. But that fact hadn’t fully hit him until he was left alone—with himself. The Founder.

He had told her he needed a minute. He didn’t want her to see him mutilate his own dead body to peel away the tattoo. A necessary step to closing the loop. But in actuality, he needed a minute to process the fact that this whole place—this building of timekeeping and bureaucracy, of manipulation and murder—existed because of him.

It wasn’t enough that he had killed her parents. No, that would be too easy. He had also built the very institution that ordered their deaths. It wasn’t A.J.’s name on the warrant. It wasn’t the Handler’s. It was his. Signed metaphorically the second he put the Commission into motion.

And it didn’t stop there. No Commission? No Handler. No Handler? No stolen little girl. No stolen little girl? No assassin trained to be just like him and all the other agents. Lila never would have been there if he hadn’t created the very thing that tore her life apart.

Maybe he started the Commission with good intentions. Maybe he was trying to stop some future version of himself from screwing with time or even someone else. Perhaps the fact that he had gotten his arm back and his powers were gone was a sign. A sign this timeline was stable and that loop would never need to come full circle because he was starting to question if he could do it all again.

As they waited at the reception desk for someone to arrive, Five broke the silence and his own self-pitying thoughts. "Did you ever have a partner?"

"A couple," Lila replied with a shrug. "They didn’t last long." Lila said vaguely. The shift in her tone was subtle, but Five had spent enough time around her to recognise it as one of those unspoken don’t ask moments. He let it go as she had so many times recently for him.

A man, in his forties appeared promptly, greeting them with a tired smile. Five stepped forward. "We need a room—with two beds."

The man raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "She hogs the blankets or something?"

As Five opened his mouth to reply, Lila cut in, her tone dripping with mock indignation. "No, it’s the other way around, actually. He’s like a burrito—wraps himself up tight and leaves me freezing."

Five shot her a side glance as the receptionist laughed, sliding a room key across the desk. "Well, you’re in luck—last room available. Room 13. Enjoy your stay."

They walked back outside and down the side of the building until they found the room. Five unlocked it and pushed it open, revealing a space that looked like it had barely survived the '70s. The wallpaper was faded and peeling in the corners, a faint musty smell hung in the air, and a small, boxy TV was bolted precariously to the wall.

“It’ll do,” Lila muttered, dropping her bag onto one of the beds and flipping the switch to the lamp between the two beds. Without hesitation, she flopped down, spreading out as though claiming her territory.

Five set his bag down on the other bed as he heard Lila groan.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” She sat up, glaring at the mattress beneath her.

Five raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

“The bed is broken,” she declared, poking the middle where it sagged visibly now she had disturbed it. “I’m gonna wake up folded in half.”

Five gave a small shake of his head and sat on his own bed, testing its firmness. He lay back for a moment, shifting his weight experimentally. “Mine’s fine.”

“Lucky you.” Lila slumped back again on the bed, almost re-testing it.

“Don’t be ridiculous—swap with me.”

Lila rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand as she looked at him with a sceptical expression. “You’re the one who’s rapidly aging. If you sleep on this, you’ll wake up with a bad back, and I am not listening to you complain about it all the way home.”

“I’m aging, not decrepit,” Five snapped, sitting upright. “And this was the last room available. So swap beds, because we’re not getting another one.”

“Room 13 lived up to its name, huh,” Lila said with a frown, sliding off the sagging mattress.

She crossed the room and perched on the edge of Five’s bed, tilting her head at him. “We could just be adults about it and share.”

Five gave her a flat look. “Kinda breaks a rule, doesn’t it?”

“I get that you’re a stickler for rules,” Lila replied, leaning slightly closer, “but let’s think about it. ‘We each go back to our own beds’—these aren’t our beds. So technically, it’s not breaking a rule. It’s bending one. And you and I both know we’re excellent at bending rules.”

Five narrowed his eyes, debating her logic.

“Fine,” Five said eventually, his tone resigned but laced with dry humour. “But I swear, if you start snoring or steal the covers, this arrangement is over.”

Lila grinned, entirely unbothered by the threat as she scooted into the bed, forcing Five to shift and make room. “You’re the one who burritos, remember?” She gave a small wink before sprawling out dramatically. “Much better.”

Five muttered something under his breath, too quiet to catch, as he stood up and pulled off his jumper. The motel room was already warm, the air slightly stale, thick with the faint scent of cheap detergent and whatever industrial cleaner they used on the carpets. He discarded his jeans next, ignoring the feeling of Lila’s gaze flicking over him like a lazy cat watching a bird too far away to bother pouncing on. He didn’t dignify it with a reaction, just grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste from his bag and disappeared into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as he started to brush.

“Not gonna sleep fully dressed?” Lila called after him.

Five didn’t answer, too preoccupied with scrubbing his teeth. Once he finished, he finally gave her a response.

“It’d be too warm.”

He stepped back into the room to find Lila now in her underwear, toothbrush in hand, as if this were the most casual, normal thing in the world. He kept his eyes level—something she clearly didn’t have the common decency to do for him. He could feel her gaze dragging over him, assessing, teasing, but as soon as she turned to walk past, his own eyes betrayed him for just a second, flickering downward in a brief scan.

Lila smirked, but didn’t comment. Instead, she just pointed toward the bathroom. “Want me to leave the light on?”

Five hesitated. The answer was yes.

“Turn it off. It’ll be too bright for you to sleep.”

He busied himself pulling the duvet back, fluffing the pillows with a little too much force.

“I’d rather that than waking up to you choking me or something.”

The words weren’t meant to be too serious, just Lila being Lila. But something cold crawled down his spine anyway, lodging in his throat. He swallowed hard, willing the thought away. How easily a bad dream could turn into his hands around her throat, squeezing on instinct, waiting for the light in her eyes to go out simply because there was no light anywhere else.

Lila didn’t seem to notice his sudden stillness. “I’ll pull the door to,” she added, adjusting it until a sliver of dim light cut through the room, a compromise neither of them acknowledged but both needed. Satisfied, she slid into bed, switching off the lamp.

As soon as the darkness settled, Five realised their newest problem. They both wanted to sleep on the same side. He would have preferred back to back.

Realistically, there was a one-in-four chance of this happening, factoring in sleeping on your back or front. But somehow, in this tiny, too-warm motel bed, they had managed to land on the worst possible configuration. Five stared at the ceiling, debating his options.

He could lie on his back, rigid and unmoving, waiting for Lila to fall asleep before subtly shifting to his right side. Or maybe he could wedge a pillow between them, some flimsy barrier in a bed that barely fit two adults.

Could he try to sleep on his left for once? The idea made him uneasy. Years of instinct—ingrained from a lifetime of wariness—kept him loyal to his right side, the side that faced the only opening into the library where he spent most nights. Rationally, he knew nothing would come through, but in the dark, rationality rarely stood a chance. Facing the door meant less disorientation if he woke up suddenly, in the pitch black. He knew where he was without needing to fumble around in the dark. Now, trying to sleep any other way felt wrong, like having a top on backwards.

"I can hear you thinking from here," Lila whispered, cutting through his internal debate.

"How is that remotely possible?" he muttered.

"It’s not, but you speaking just confirmed it."

Five groaned softly.

"Can’t sleep?" she asked, her voice smug but gentle.

"Evidently."

"When’s the last time you slept in the same space as someone?"

Five paused, rifling through his memories. "Klaus. We were twelve. He ran out of liquor and everything else and had to spend the night sober. The ghosts weren’t leaving him alone but apparently they didn’t like to hang out in my room. Something about even the dead thinking I was a bit of an ass."

Lila laughed softly. "That’s actually kind of sweet that you shared a bed with him."

"I didn’t share anything. I let him sleep on the floor."

"I retract my earlier statement."

Five chuckled faintly, the sound dry but genuine.

"Get comfy, Five," Lila said, her voice tinged with amusement. "No point in us sharing if you’re just gonna be awake all night."

"Easier said than done."

"Fine." She scooted backward deliberately, her body pressing against him in a way that made Five stiffen in every sense of the word.

"Oi!"

"Want me to help you get to sleep?" Her tone was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of challenge in it that made Five glare at the back of her head.

"I'm pretty sure that would be crossing a line," he replied sharply, though the edge in his voice was more for show than sincerity.

"It's fine as long as you don’t start spooning me after," she quipped, reaching back to grab his hand and placing it on her hip. She was met with a subtle, involuntary thrust of his in return.

Five sighed. "Fine." He wanted it to sound like a grumble, like she was dragging him into this, that it was for her benefit not his. But the truth gnawed at him: he couldn’t believe how little restraint he had left.

It had been a whirlwind. This morning, he’d worried their impulsive antics the previous night might have ruined things. And now they were sharing a bed, stripped down to just their underwear because neither of them thought pyjamas were worth buying. Everything about this reset, felt borderline insane, yet here they were.

She pressed back against him, her grin practically audible, and his hand slid lower, his palm skimming the curve of her thigh. When his fingers brushed between her legs, he felt it—warmth, dampness. She was already wet, the sensation tangible even through the thin fabric of her underwear.

"You always this quick to get started," he muttered, "or have you been thinking about this since you eyed me up earlier?"

The words came out less confident than he intended, almost like a question. But she didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she moved against his hand, delicately but deliberate and meaning she was grinding against his body as well.

Five exhaled sharply, retreating just long enough to push his boxers down and discard them. Lila followed suit, tossing her underwear aside. This time, when his hand returned to her, there was nothing between them—just heat, soft skin, and the slickness of her arousal.

His fingers moved with a new found confidence after his latest lesson, dipping through her folds as a quiet groan escaped his lips. The angle made her body encapsulate his fingers there. He pressed himself closer, the faint scent of her shampoo from this morning lingering in the air.

Her breath hitched when his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot, and she shuddered. Her hand rose to her shoulder, hovering there as though shielding herself. Did she think he was about to bite or kiss her neck? Was she trying to deflect his breath from running over her? Suddenly he noticed, he was a lot closer than he intended on being. Just as thoughts flooded of moving back, making space, her voice pulled him out of the process.

"On your back, Five," she rasped.

Her tone left no room for dispute, but Five couldn’t help scowling for a moment. Why did she always get to call the shots? He was perfectly content with how things were going—thrusting gently against her, teasing her with his hands, feeling the heat of her body under his touch. But something about that hand on her shoulder made him comply without argument.

He peeled himself away, precum stringing from her back to his tip. Snapping as he rolled onto his back silently. His eyes followed her hand as it finally dropped back down to her side, her body shifting as she got up onto her knees, facing away from him. She shot a mischievous smile briefly over her shoulder and without hesitation, she climbed onto all fours before swinging her leg over and straddling him.

He blinked, confused, as she positioned herself facing away from him. It was a new angle, one he didn’t anticipate, but confusion quickly melted into pleasure as she lowered herself onto him, enveloping him in her warmth.

This time, he didn’t wait to be told. His hands instinctively found her hips, holding her firmly as she began to move.

The space between their bodies and the way she faced away made it feel strangely detached from the intimacy they’d shared earlier that morning. He wondered if there was something deliberate about her choice.

"Not going to tell me what I’m learning here?" he murmured, his voice a mix of curiosity and sarcasm.

Lila glanced over her shoulder, her smirk turned devilish in the dim light. She leaned forward slightly as she rode him, shifting just enough to make him realise, she now had access to his balls.

Her hand slid down to caress him, and Five’s eyes rolled back, a low groan escaping his lips as he gave a harder buck. He was met with Lila putting her weight back down on him, no longer moving and sitting still.

"Did you know," she began, her voice feigning innocence as her hand trailed further, brushing the underside of his balls and moving lower, "that on some guys…" Her words hung in the air, her fingers pressing lightly on his perineum. She explored until she found the spot that made him moan deeply, his body jerking against her touch.

"You can play with the prostate from the outside?" she finished, her tone teasing as she released the pressure, giving him a moment to catch his breath.

Five barely had a chance to process the statement before she pressed again and resumed riding him. The sensation tore another sound from his throat—a mix of surprise and pleasure—as his hands tightened on her hips, simply enjoying the feeling momentarily. Soon he began pulling her down harder onto him, releasing a sharp moan from her.

He knew in that moment that Lila didn’t need to see his face to know she’d discovered something new about him. There was no doubt she could feel his reaction, every tense muscle, every uncontrolled movement. He could picture her face, a wide toothy grin, no doubt feeling like she had him right where she wanted him.

"Fine," he growled, his voice rough. "But I have access too."

His left hand slipped from her hip, sliding between her thighs. The sensation of feeling himself moving within her was nearly enough to send him over the edge, but he pushed the thought away and focused. His fingers sought her clit, brushing against it with precision.

Lila’s response was immediate—a low moan that sent a surge of satisfaction through him. He smirked, his fingers continuing their work as her rhythm faltered briefly. But she wasn’t one to back down. Regaining her momentum, she pressed on him again, this time drawing an involuntary, untimely, thrust from him.

What began as playful teasing shifted into something more intense—a silent, unspoken battle of wills. Their breaths grew laboured, the room filled with the sound of their bodies moving together. Both were trembling, refusing to give in, each determined to outlast the other.

Her resolve cracked first. The noise she made as she climaxed was louder than anything they’d done up to that point, a raw, uninhibited cry that sent Five spiralling over the edge in response. His release followed hers, his grip tightening on her hips as he spilled inside her.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them in the haze of their shared high.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Keep it down! Some of us are actually trying to sleep around here!" an irritated voice shouted through the thin walls, jolting them back to reality.

Lila burst out laughing, rolling off of him and collapsing onto her back beside him. Five groaned, throwing an arm over his face, surprised Lila didn’t shout something back.

Wordlessly, she excused herself to the bathroom whilst Five settled on his right side. Fuck it.

---

Five woke to the unexpected presence of pillows between them, one tucked under his left arm. When had those been placed there? He couldn't recall Lila coming to bed, which meant he must have fallen asleep fast. A hand running down his hip confirmed another detail—he had, indeed, slept naked.

He pushed the pillow down between them and peered over. Lila lay facing him, her breathing slow and steady. Asleep, her features softened, the ever-present smirk absent. Or maybe that was the so-called pregnancy glow people talked about. Either way, she looked peaceful, wrapped so tightly in the duvet that he was now realizing he had barely any of it left, just a sliver barely covering him.

He debated getting up but didn’t want to risk waking her. Sleep was about to become a scarce resource for her, and she needed all she could get.

Strangely enough, he didn’t feel groggy. His head was clearer than usual, his body less sluggish. More energy. Could that be why? Had something changed? If his powers were creeping back, he’d know soon enough—he’d test them as soon as Lila woke.

Almost as if she had a sixth sense for when his brain started running in circles, Lila stirred. Five shut his eyes again, feigning sleep.

“Your eyelids are fluttering,” she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. “I know you’re awake, old man.”

“Studying my face, are we?” He opened his eyes to find her propped up on her elbows, staring at him.

She ignored the jab, and Five let it slide, slipping out of bed and grabbing his clothes before heading to the bathroom.

As he turned on the shower, allowing for it to warm up before getting in. Whilst waiting he clenched his fists, testing for even the slightest flicker of his power—just as Lila strolled in.

“Kegel exercises first thing in the morning?” she teased, plopping onto the toilet like this was a completely normal interaction. “Finally working on that pelvic floor now that you’ve got a reason to?”

Five rolled his eyes, pushing the curtain aside to step into the bath.

“You know,” she continued, unbothered by his lack of enthusiasm, “if our powers come back, I’ll probably know before you.”

“And why’s that?”

“I could always tell when one of you were in range, so to speak.”

Five heard the telltale flush of the toilet a second too late. The water temperature plummeted, a blast of ice slicing through his spine.

“Fuck, Lila!” he barked, jumping back as her laughter rang out.

The water steadied, and he let out a slow breath.

“You try every day?” she asked, her voice casual, but her question wasn’t.

“Most days,” he admitted, running his hands through his hair. “Felt different when I woke up, figured it was worth checking.”

“You know why, right?”

He could hear a know-it-all tone to her voice.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“You didn’t drink yesterday.”

Five paused. That couldn’t be right—except… was it? Had yesterday been the first time in weeks he hadn’t had at least something?

“Was that why you picked takeout instead of a restaurant?”

Lila didn’t respond immediately. For a second, he thought she might have left.

“You know I wouldn’t have drunk and driven, right?” he said, glancing toward the shower curtain.

“Sure,” she replied easily. “But you would’ve had one and still been fine to drive. This way, you had none.”

So it had been intentional.

“I’m not sure what I think about you making choices based on my drinking habits.”

“You’re the one who said you felt better this morning,” she pointed out. “Just something to consider.”

This time, he heard the audible click of the door shutting behind her.

Chapter Text

Breakfast was quick and unremarkable—semi-stale croissants that unfortunately sent Lila running to the nearest motel lobby bathroom. By the time she returned, looking paler than before, Five had taken the liberty of checking them out, offering to grab something on the road instead.

For the drive to their next and last Sloane of the trip, Five insisted that only classical music be played, much to Lila’s protest. When she complained, he pointed out that the baby’s ears were most likely developed by now and that it was never too early to start an education in the fine arts. The added bonus? No lyrics meant no singing. Not that it stopped Lila from raising a finger like a conductor, waving it dramatically in time with the music.

Their destination was in a town that had clearly seen better days—run-down buildings, cracked sidewalks, an air of neglect hanging over the streets. They crossed the road carefully and approached a tattered house, knocking on the door. No answer. Five weighed his options but ultimately decided that getting a gun pointed at him wasn’t on today’s agenda. He called it quits without poking around too much.

For the drive home, the music selection was once again up for debate.

Five had never had much time for music before the apocalypse, and during it, his exposure had been even more limited. CD players still existed in the library, and not all the discs had been completely destroyed, but the selection was sparse at best—mostly audiobooks or film soundtracks from movies based on books. Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, to name a couple.

Not that it mattered much. Batteries were a rare commodity, reserved for flashlights, not for indulging in sound. But when the only silence was the one he filled with his own voice, talking to Dolores, every now and then, he allowed himself the respite of a song or two.

One of the CDs he’d found—one he considered a particular favourite—was a collection of James Bond theme songs. Back at the Academy, music had mostly been limited to the classical pieces Reginald deemed acceptable, but that CD had introduced him to something different. Duran Duran’s ‘A View to a Kill’ had stood out the most.

So when the radio station they landed on started playing Bond themes, he relaxed into his seat just a little more.

Until Lila reached for the dial.

His hand shot out, batting hers away like a cat—claws tucked in, but still firm. He kept his eyes on the road, but from the corner of his vision, he caught it: the small smile tugging at her lips, amusement flickering across her face as he started to sing.

It wasn’t completely unusual—she’d heard him singing before, but only when he was drunk. Turns out, sober, he could actually hit the notes with a lot less effort.

When they finally pulled up at their house, Five let out a quiet chuckle.

“What?” Lila asked, eyeing him.

“Don’t need to touch the odometer,” he smirked. “Turns out it can’t go past 100,000. We picked it up at 99,852. Not great that it’s reading 472 miles now, but I doubt they’ll do much about that. Saves a job anyway.”

He hopped out, grabbing the bags and water from the car and placing them just inside the door leaving it open for Lila.

“I’m taking it back,” he added. “See you in a bit.”

---

Returning the car went about as smoothly as could be expected. The salesperson tried their best, throwing every tactic at him, even offering a great deal on a five-seater that would ‘make the pregnant girlfriend happy,’ as long as he bought both. Five stuck to the story—if he showed up with the same car, she’d leave him.

Toward the end, the salesperson gave a knowing look and made a comment about how if she’s that controlling, maybe it’s for the best.

Five appeared to let the comment roll off his back. Logically, he had no reason to care. But it annoyed him more than it should have. And with that, he decided—when he did get a car, it wouldn’t be from that place.

---
By the time he returned home in the late afternoon, his first instinct was to grab a glass of whiskey and sit down for a bit. But to his surprise he found the house was filled with the rich aroma of coffee, and waiting for him on the table was a fresh cup.

Lila, however, was nowhere in sight.

He sat, took a sip—it was scorching hot, meaning it had just been made. Yet still, no sign of her.

Then he heard it.

A groan from upstairs.

Grabbing his coffee, he made his way up. Her bedroom door was open but empty.

The bathroom, then. He knocked.

“You okay?”

“No…” came the whiny reply.

Five didn’t wait for an invitation—he pushed the door open. Lila was hunched over the toilet, looking utterly miserable.

“Not a good day for you both, huh?” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “Know what set it off?”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “And it’s about to again.”

She barely finished the sentence before lurching forward.

Taking the very obvious hint, Five turned on his heel and left, draining his coffee on the way downstairs. He wasn’t one to waste caffeine, but the rest of the pot went down the sink. He popped a couple of slices of bread in the toaster as he opened the window to help air out the place. Then, he made his way back upstairs with a glass of water and a plate of toast.

He stood in the doorway. “Happy for me to put the toast in your room?”

“Just put the plate on the floor.” She sounded exhausted, utterly defeated.

“Not happening, it’s a bathroom. You can either get comfy in bed, and I’ll bring you the makeshift bucket, or come downstairs and I’ll get you a blanket for the sofa. Which do you want?”

“Gonna bring the TV up for me?”

“Not a chance.”

“Ugh, fine. My bed, then.”

Five handed her the water, which she promptly set on the floor anyway, then moved to her bedroom and placed the toast on her nightstand.

Going downstairs once again, he grabbed the sink bowl—still sitting by the door from earlier—before heading back up. Next, he went to his room, pulled open the bedside table drawer, and grabbed the pregnancy book they hadn’t touched since that night. On second thought, he also snagged the two pillows from his bed before heading back to hers.

By the time Lila emerged, Five was already comfortably against the headboard, her pillows arranged for support, the blanket pulled down in a welcoming fashion, and the bowl plunked in the middle, ready for her to place it where needed.

“I can’t bring the TV up, but I can offer entertainment in the form of a book?”

“Are you allowed to be in my bed if we aren’t having sex?”

She slumped into bed, moving the bowl onto her lap.

“Want to pick a chapter?”

“Chapter five, why not.”

Five thumbed through the pages until he landed on it. “It’s about contractions, timing, and giving birth.”

“Gotta learn about it sooner or later.”

He gave a nod and started reading. By the time he finished the chapter, Lila was curled up into a ball, one pillow under her head, hugging another one and stole one from Five which was between her knees. Maybe pregnancy pillow would be a good idea in the near future.

“Well, that all sounds horrific.”

Glancing down at her, Five could see her eyes open but glazed over, clearly lost in thought.

“You’ve got twenty-three more weeks, give or take, before you need to worry about it.”

“Guess I need to get that twenty-week scan booked in. I should pop down to see them tomorrow to arrange it. And apply for more jobs before bump makes its debut.”

“Already shows a little,” Five murmured, almost too quietly.

Lila blinked and peered up at him.

“Don’t worry, its only in the evenings.” he added quickly, flipping a page in the book as if looking for something to quote.

“Aren’t you meant to be staring at my tits when we’re messing about, not my stomach?”

A sigh escaped his lips. “You’re changing in front of me. No different than you noticing my suit’s too tight now.” He shifted slightly, then added, “Anyway, if you’re going out tomorrow, I will too. I’m going to see Luther—probably run into the others while I’m at it.” He didn’t need to name them all for Lila to know exactly who he meant.

“To see if he has any more ideas about something that might help us identify Sloane,” Five continued. “I’m guessing you don’t want to come with me.”

“No thanks.”

“Okay, tomorrow we’ll do our own thing then.”

Lila nodded, stifling a yawn. “Think I might call it a night.”

Five slid off the bed, grabbing his pillow but leaving the other behind.

“Don’t you want—”

He cut her off with a dismissive wave. “You look comfy, and I only use the one anyway. Night.”

Without waiting for a response, he made his way downstairs. He wasn’t quite ready to turn in yet, but he wasn’t sure what to do with himself either. Trash TV was usually the go-to at this time of night, but without Lila around to pick something, putting it on himself felt… off.

He sat on the sofa, gaze drifting toward the kitchen. Whiskey sat untouched on the counter.

He could drink—just sit, think, and get lost in his own head. But then he remembered how Lila had almost played him the other night, nudging him into skipping the drink.

Did he really need it?

With a sigh, he pushed himself off the couch, headed into the kitchen, and returned with a glass. He grabbed the remote, flipping through channels until he landed on a quiz show.

He took a sip of water.

---

The next morning Five came downstairs to see Lila already making some breakfast for the both of them. A bowl of cereal was already poured out, without the milk so it wouldn't go soggy and two glasses of orange juice. Five looked at the coffee pot longingly but understood why it was left abandoned and to his sorrow, potentially for the foreseeable future.

“Sorry, the thought of turning it on was enough to make me feel queasy.”

“No problem, I’ll grab some on the way to the Academy.”

---

When Five entered the local coffee shop, the last person he expected to run into was his brother. Diego eagerly stood up from his table with his face lighting up. “Hey! I was hoping I’d run into you sooner or later.”

Five, on the other hand, looked less than enthused. He assumed he might have run into his idiot brother today but wasn’t expecting it on a one-to-one basis. He hesitated but ultimately entertained the conversation, grabbing the chair opposite. Diego’s grin faded slightly, noting the tension.

“You know, I’m surprised you haven’t tried to get in touch with any of us—besides Luther, and that was well over a week ago.”

“I’ve been busy,” Five replied curtly.

Diego leaned back in his chair. “Oh yeah? Doing what?” The thought crossed his mind: Your ex, but he bit his tongue. It wasn’t the time or place, and besides, rule three, don't tell anyone.

“Preparing for whatever next end of the world is coming. Stocking up, taking notes, scanning the news.”

Diego let out a low whistle. “Shit, Cinco, your brain really doesn’t stop, does it?”

Five shrugged, but his shoulders stiffened at the next question.

“Have you heard from Lila since you saw her with Luther?”

“Of course.”

“‘Of course’? That’s funny coming from someone who hasn’t bothered to contact the rest of us.”

“Contact goes two ways, Diego. And of course because someone had to help her out.”

“That crazy bitch of a lone wolf doesn’t need anyone.”

“Good to see your opinion hasn’t changed,” Five muttered, standing abruptly. He could feel his temper rising and figured it was better to leave than let it boil over. He would grab his coffee and go.

“What the hell are you talking about? She left me, Five!”

Five froze mid-step and slowly turned back. His voice came out low, biting. “And you took that as a reason to not even try and help her? I know she’s manipulative, Diego, but she’s far too consistent about you being the father for it to be anything but true.”

Diego’s expression faltered. “What do you mean, Five?”

“Seriously? Do you need me to spell out how much of a piece of shit I think you are right now? I get it—she’s your ex. But damn, Diego, that’s your kid.”

Diego’s face dropped, his usual confidence evaporating.

Five’s jaw clenched as he realised the truth. Diego didn’t know. “She… she told you, didn’t she? The day after we got back?” He sighed, running a hand over his face. Shit, now I’m the asshole.

“C’mon,” Five said tersely. “I know where you can talk to her. And this time, she won’t get out of it.”

Diego followed him silently back to Five’s house.

---

Lila was out when they arrived, like she said she would be. Five wondered if she was also running errands to keep their fresh food supply topped up—a habit she’d developed just before they left for their road trip to help curb Five’s anxiety. Five sank onto the sofa while Diego paced, his expression cycling between hurt and anger.

When Lila opened the door, bags in hand, she froze. Her eyes flicked to Diego, whose gaze had instinctively fallen to her belly. She knew immediately that Five had said something.

“I can explain,” she started quickly, but Five was already on his feet, storming toward her. His eyes twitched with irritation, his voice sharp and deliberate.

“Good. You owe him that much. As for me…” He took the shopping bags from her hands. “I’ll unload these in the kitchen.”

Lila glared at him, her eyes shining as she fought back tears. Her aggressive defensive character coming through. “And just how honest are you expecting me to be?”

“I don’t care. It was your rule, anyway.” His tone was cryptic enough to make Diego’s brows furrow in suspicion.

Without waiting for a response, Five strode into the kitchen, closing the door with more force than necessary.

As he unpacked the groceries, his thoughts churned. Where does she get off lying to not only him but me, too? She really is like her mother at times. Nature versus nurture at its finest.

Five leaned on the kitchen counter, hands gripping the edge as he closed his eyes. He couldn’t hear anything from the other room yet. So what were they doing? Were they staring each other down? Was she silently crying? Were they hugging it out?

He hated himself for eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help it. They both had short tempers, and this conversation was now overdue.

Finally, Five heard Diego’s voice broking the silence, low and heavy, more broken than angry.

“Why? Why did you lie?”

Lila’s reply came quickly, but her voice was quiet. “It wasn’t a full lie—not at first. I really did think the reset would’ve reset that too.”

Diego’s tone sharpened. “When did you find out you were still pregnant?”

“The next day.”

“And you’re sure?”

“Yeah, I saw the little thing.”

“So why didn’t you come and find me after?”

“I went to. I started walking around, looking for you...”

“And?”

“I ended up thinking instead. About how you said you needed ‘to think about it.’ About how you got to choose whether you were in or out.”

“But I did choose in the end! I chose you!”

“After I begged, Diego! I begged, I pleaded—I laid my heart out there—and then you said you had to think about it.”

Five could hear Diego’s voice rising, the frustration spilling out. “So that’s it? Because I got cold feet for a bit—after you lied to me about who Stanley was, by the way—you get to withhold my child from me?”

“You don’t think Stanley kind of proves a point here?”

“I did fine by that kid!”

“You did. But I didn’t. I didn’t know he’d get blitzed out of existence, but the fact that I felt I had to test you like that—and then you said you’d think about it. Don’t you see? We’re a bit fucked up for each other. Is that any way to raise a child?”

Silence.

Lila’s cut back in, this time softer. “I won’t withhold them. But right now, I don’t want to be with someone who’s going to cause me more stress.”

“You’re literally living with the most stressed-out member of our family!”

“Where are you staying right now?”

“At the Academy with the others. Why?”

“Does it have heating, electricity, or even running water?”

“Not currently, but we’re working on it.”

“Here, I have those things, Diego.”

“Right, so you’re just picking what’s convenient for you. Shocker. But looks like you’ve just made trouble in your little paradise with this stunt. Five’s a lot of things, but one of them is loyal to his family.”

“Sure, he is. And I won’t be surprised if he chews me out for this later. But even if he does, I’m not coming back to you, Diego. We are toxic for each other.”

“So what’s your plan then?”

“I’m trying to sort out a part-time job and then I’ll get out of Five’s way. Once the baby’s here, we’ll work out some kind of custody arrangement.”

Diego’s voice cracked, his anger flaring again. “Oh, I see. Don’t want me around until it’s convenient for you. Just want to dump the baby on me the moment you’re done being a human incubator?”

“Diego—”

“No! You’re so determined to do this without me, it can stay that way!” Diego’s voice now laced with anger, his words cutting like a knife. “I don’t want to know now, and I won’t want to know in the future! You’re nothing but a lying, manipulative, crazy bitch.”

Before Lila could respond, Five pushed the door open. He didn’t look at her as he walked into the room, placing himself between them, his voice firm.

“Hey. Both of you have said your piece. Call it a day before someone calls about a domestic breaking out.”

Diego let out a derisive snort, turning on his heel. He slammed the door behind him as he left, the echo reverberating through the tense silence.

Five turned to Lila at last, his green eyes blazing with fury, the same intensity she’d seen previously. She instinctively curled into herself, folding her arms tightly across her chest and lowering her head. Her amber eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked up at him, her vulnerability exposed.

Five took a deep breath before speaking, his voice so calm it was almost unsettling. “This is never going to work if you keep lying to me, Lila.”

With a sniffle, Lila shot back, her voice trembling but defiant. “Oh yeah? What won’t work, Five? Your weird loyalty to your brother’s ex-girlfriend? Diego said you’re loyal to them, so which is it?”

“Don’t make me pick and choose.”

“Then why don’t you just admit it?” she challenged, her voice rising with frustration. “You hate me. You’re just doing this because you offed my parents.”

Did he still hate her? He searched his memory for clarity, remembering the words he’d once said to her at Hotel Obsidian: ‘There’s a certain level of honesty in white-hot hatred’. But no, this wasn’t the same. He hated The Handler, and he wouldn’t have given her a moment of his time, let alone a roof over her head. Lila, though? He’d offered her safety since they arrived. He’d calculated food supplies, anticipated survival needs in case of another apocalypse with her in the equations. That wasn’t hate.

Five sighed, his gaze sweeping over her with an air of disappointed resignation. “You know what? Think what you want. You clearly don’t care for my opinion anyway.” His voice was clipped, carrying an edge of finality. Without another glance, he grabbed the keys by the door and walked out, letting the sound of the door close harshly behind him punctuate the moment.

He could already picture her, retreating into her usual spot on the sofa, knees hugged to her chest. The thought irritated him more than it should, and he quickened his pace as he walked down the street, trying to shake the image from his mind.

The cool mid-morning air nipped at his skin, doing little to soothe the fire of his thoughts. His feet carried him instinctively, past familiar streets, until he found himself at the edge of the local park. It was quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional distant bark of a dog.

Five sank onto a bench near an empty playground. The swings swayed slightly in the breeze, the creak of the chains filling the silence around him. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped as his mind churned.

Why am I still helping her?

The question gnawed at him, unravelling the tightly wound threads of his reasoning. She’d lied and without remorse. To Diego which in return meant to him too. She’d dismissed his warnings, kept the secret and manipulated him with ease. She wasn’t trustworthy, not completely. And yet, here he was, still debating if he could take her side.

Why am I still helping her?

He repeated it again, as if saying it more would somehow summon an answer. It wasn’t guilt. Not entirely.

Her parents’ deaths weren’t technically his fault. He had no idea who he was killing on a daily biases. It wasn’t personal but the more he unravelled the tangled mess of the Commission, the harder it became to separate himself from its consequences. On some level, he was responsible. And yet—was he really?

He hadn’t built the Commission. Not yet, anyway. And until that time loop closed, he wasn’t its architect. Innocent until, right?

So what was it, then? A sense of obligation? Companionship?

When was the last time someone had been there—truly there—for him?

She brought chaos and complication into his life, but she also brought company. Someone to talk to. Someone who asked him how his day was—when no one else had bothered. His siblings had never asked about the apocalypse, never inquired about the years he’d spent clawing his way through survival. Lila was flawed, but she was present.

He rubbed a hand over his face, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Was Diego right? Was she just using him? Then again, wasn’t he using her too?

He exhaled sharply, leaning back against the bench and staring up at the sky. He didn’t have answers, only an endless spiral of questions that fed into each other. But one thing was certain:

He didn’t hate her.

As much as she infuriated him, as much as she made his life harder, he didn’t want her gone. The thought of her leaving twisted something in his chest, something unfamiliar and unwelcome.

Five clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he tried—once again—to summon his powers. His muscles tensed, his body straining with the effort, but like every other time, nothing happened.

Relaxing his muscles, he let out a slow, frustrated breath. Feelings and introspection weren’t things he’d had to concern himself with for the past 45 years. And before that? He’d been a kid, unburdened by the weight of others' expectations.

Now, though, he had no choice but to sit with it. Sit with the anger, the questions, and the faint, stubborn flicker of something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Something that made him want to pick up the pieces of their messy, tangled lives and try to hold them together.

Five took several deep breaths, forcing the rage simmering beneath his skin into something sharper—controlled. If they were going to talk about this, it needed to be a conversation, not an explosion.

He didn’t hear her approach at first, but the soft crunch of gravel underfoot gave her away. Lila appeared, her usual swagger noticeably absent. She looked... tired. Guilty, maybe.

She sat at the opposite end of the bench, eyes fixed on a crack in the concrete.

Silence stretched between them, tight and suffocating. Five barely glanced her way, jaw set. She wasn’t here to fight. That, at least, loosened something in his chest.

“We’re not doing this here.”

Lila huffed. “I just got here.”

“So sit, rest, and we’ll discuss this somewhere less public.”

She rolled her eyes, glancing around at the empty park. “Right, because we’re just surrounded by crowds.”

Five didn’t respond.

“Let’s just get this over with,” she muttered. “I get it, you’re gonna kick me out.”

Five ran a hand down his face, grounding himself before finally speaking again.

“Believe it or not, I care about my family. All of it.” A pause. “You’re included in that.”

Lila let out a bitter laugh. “What, does that make this some incestuous thing then?”

His glare could have frozen fire.

She smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Come on, Five. I’ve lied to you before, but this is where you draw the line?”

“No, actually, you haven’t.” His voice was smooth as glass, but the weight behind it was a blade against her throat. “You’ve lied through me. Manipulated people around me. Been completely untrustworthy. But this—this is the first time you’ve lied directly to me.”

Lila’s smirk wavered.

Five’s expression didn’t change, but his voice was quieter now, more dangerous. “I’m not angry because you hurt Diego. I’m angry because you lied to me.” His gaze burned into hers. “Which makes me wonder—what else have you lied about?”

Lila crossed her arms. “Like what.”

He hesitated. Hated that he even had to ask. “Is Diego for sure the father?”

Lila flinched like she’d been struck. “Are you fucking serious?” She stood up and started to walk off, through the grass towards the trees.

Five called after her. “I was there, Lila,” she didn’t turn around. “At the hotel. When you told Diego you’d slept with a lot of people. You wanted him to believe twelve years had passed, not twelve weeks.”

“I did sleep around,” she shot back finally facing him once more.

“So my question still stands. How do you know Diego’s the father?”

Lila exhaled sharply through her nose, arms tightening around herself. Then, after a pause, she muttered, “You said it yourself. People. I never said men.”

“You know our family is fairly open about these things,” he said, more statement than question.

Lila smirked, though there was no real amusement in it. “Yeah, no one shunned you for shagging a mannequin for all those years.”

Something flickered behind Five’s eyes.

Before she could say anything else, he took several quick steps forward.

She instinctively stepped back—only to find a tree at her back.

“Dolores. Have. Some. Damn. Respect. For. Me.”

He wasn’t sure if she’d notice—the way he’d said me instead of her. How, in just a few days, now that he finally had some breathing room, his understanding of the apocalypse was shifting. The walls between what had been his reality and actual reality were beginning to crack.

Jaw tightening, he turned abruptly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, already regretting giving her the reaction she’d wanted.

“I wanted to make him jealous,” she said, quieter now but it was loud enough for Five to hear it over the rush of blood in his ears.

He stopped walking.

“I knew if I said women, he’d laugh. Make some stupid joke. But if I said people…” she trailed off. “It let his imagination do the work.”

Silence.

“So no one else,” Five finally murmured, not turning back.

“Just you,” Lila admitted. “And we both know I was already knocked up.”

Chapter Text

They walked home in silence, Lila trailing several paces behind Five.

At the door, his key scraped against the lock, the fumbling more out of impatience than any real struggle. When it finally slid in, he pushed the door open and stepped inside without a word. Shoes off. Placed in their usual spot.

His eyes flicked to the kitchen.

Without hesitation, he strode over, grabbed the half-empty bottle from the counter, and turned away. No glass. No pause. Just the bottle in his hand and the quiet sound of Lila stepping inside behind him.

"Five—"

He didn’t turn. Didn’t acknowledge her.

How much easier it had been when he could just blip—out of the kitchen, into his room, or better yet, onto the roof, where the chance of human interaction dropped to almost nothing.

But for now, his room would have to do.

Door shut.

Five sat on the bed, bottle in hand, downing several long gulps before staring at the wall. A few more, and he sank back onto the mattress, gaze drifting to the ceiling. His eyes traced a crack that ran from one side to the other, following its jagged path.

Cracks like that used to make him uneasy. Back then, any sign of structural weakness was a warning—a place to avoid, a place that could collapse if he lingered too long. Foraging meant getting in and out as fast as possible, before the world could take one more thing from him.

When the library fell, he thought he’d lost Dolores. The panic of it, the way his stomach had twisted—he never chanced anything too unstable with her presence again. Couldn’t risk it.

Losing her would’ve meant losing the last piece of himself. The last scrap of humanity he had left.

Shagging a mannequin.

The words re-rang in his ears, and annoyance flared again. Another gulp of the amber liquid. At some point, everything would go quiet. Drunk enough or passed out. Either or. Maybe both. See what happened first.

Five closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he’d just rested or actually fallen asleep, but an obnoxious knock at the door jolted him from whatever state he was in. He didn’t answer.

“I’ve made dinner.”

He waited for the bite in her tone, expecting her usual sarcasm. Does the sad old man want it in his room, or can he be big enough to come downstairs? He could almost hear her voice in his head.

“I can leave it outside your door or bring it in.”

Never one to waste food, he got up and stumbled to the door, taking the plate but ignoring the glass of water in her other hand. He went to close the door with a muttered thanks—at least, he thought he said it.

Her foot stopped the door before it could latch, bouncing it back open. He glanced over his shoulder as she stepped inside, setting the glass on his nightstand beside the whiskey.

He waited, expecting her to make a grab for the bottle.

She didn’t.

He sighed.

They were both stubborn. He knew that.

Neither of them was going to apologise for what was said in the park. He had no reason to regret asking about Diego, and Lila wasn’t the type to say sorry for words designed to hurt. But food—that was something. A gesture. Maybe he should take the branch and speak before it turned into a series of increasingly annoying comments and barbs until he finally caved in at a later time.

Just before she reached the door, he spoke—quietly, his words slightly slurred.

“Did you get your next scan sorted?”

Lila turned, eyebrows raised. “How do you go from pissed off to asking what could be perceived as a caring question?”

Five exhaled through his nose, tilting his head back against the headboard. “Life’s too short to play the silent game. We say stupid stuff, have space, talk. Seems to be a pattern emerging recently.”

“Surprisingly mature of us, huh?” He watched as her fingers toyed with the hem of her top. Was that to stop a remark forming or nerves kicking in. “Yeah,” she said finally. “Got it booked in—three and a half weeks from now.”

Five gave a small nod, and that was that. Conversation over.

Lila left him in peace to eat, and in the end, he decided to down the glass of water, bringing both the plate and glass downstairs. The bottle remained on the nightstand—a modest nightcap left.

Downstairs he saw her sprawled on the sofa, feet tucked under her duvet, watching one of the game shows Five actually didn’t mind. It was one of the sensible ones, half-decent questions, usually university students competing. Maths, science, literature, languages. Normally, they’d have a bit of a friendly competition over who could get the most right, but tonight didn’t seem like one of those nights.

The maths round began, and while the contestants were given a minute to work it out with pen and paper, Five was sure of the answer with a quick bit of mental math. That was, until the correct answer flashed on the screen, and he grumbled.

“Didn’t get 59?” Lila asked, not looking away from the TV.

“58…” he muttered.

“Confused it with your own age?”

His eyes narrowed as he sank further into the sofa. Without a word, he grabbed his notepad and pen from the coffee table, slouched back, and scribbled down the equation. A few seconds later, he tossed the notepad onto the table with a sigh.

“What happened?” Lila asked, slight amusement in her voice.

“Didn’t add the one,” he admitted. “Story of my life.”

A chuckle escaped her. “Tragic.”

“Yeah, well, I am drunk,” he shot back. “What’s your excuse for not getting it?”

“Who said I didn’t?” she countered. “And being drunk is your own doing.”

“It is,” he admitted, rubbing his forehead. “Not like two days off was going to fix a lifetime of a habit anyway.”

Lila’s head tilted slightly. “Ever thought you might have a bit of a problem?”

“All the time. The drinking is what helps.” He smirked as she shook her head at his deflection. “Besides, you can’t just say you got the answer. If you have it, shout it. Otherwise, it’s my point.”

He could see her eyeing him, something unreadable in her expression. Then, casually, she said, “So that’s it? We’ve just gone back to normal. You drink, we watch TV, and we fuck?”

Five took a slow breath. “I’ve drunk. We are watching TV.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Whatever comes after that is up to you.”

For a second, she didn’t move. Then, deliberately, she untucked herself from the duvet and slid across the sofa toward him. He kept his eyes on the TV, feigning indifference for just a moment longer.

But when she straddled his lap, blocking the screen entirely, his focus shifted.

“Does this count as make-up sex?” she asked, tilting her head as she looked down at him.

Five blinked slowly, his mind hazy from the alcohol and the weight of their recent fight. He let the question settle before answering.

“No,” he said flatly. “We’d actually have to be in a relationship to ‘make up,’ wouldn’t we?” His hands rested on the sofa, making no move towards her. “Mindless sex. That’s all this is.”

Lila gave a small smirk. “That’s all it is,” she echoed.

“Upstairs?” he asked.

“Lesson four,” she murmured, sliding off his lap with purpose. “Doesn’t always have to be in a bed.”

She made quick work of undoing her trousers, pushing them down along with her underwear. Then, without hesitation, she moved onto the sofa, her hands bracing against the back of it as she rose onto her knees.

Five exhaled through his nose, eyeing the angle.

The room tilted slightly as he stood, and he had to steady himself. His body was half-ready, but the alcohol was making everything feel slow, distant—like his thoughts weren’t fully reaching his limbs.

Still, that wasn’t going to stop him.

Undoing his own trousers, he freed himself with one hand, the other pressing against the small of her back for balance.

Drinking slowed things down, turned sharp edges into hazy blurs. Normally this wasn’t an issue, if anything, it was what he wanted. However even through the fog, some things remained crystal clear.

The way Lila was positioned, waiting, the easy confidence in her body language—like this was just another one of their usual routines. Maybe it was.

“Gonna take all night, old man?” she teased, glancing back at him with a smirk.

Five rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Maybe if I had a bit more motivation.”

His fingers tightened against her back while the other wrapped around himself, giving a few quick pumps. He lined himself up, dipping slightly, then holding himself as he rubbed himself against her, coating himself in her natural lubricant.

Lila scoffed, pushing back against him just enough to test his patience. “Motivation’s right here, unless you’re too pissed to make use of it. Can’t even find the hole?”

His response wasn’t in words—just a rough, punishing snap of his hips that knocked the air from her lungs. Her hands clenched against the sofa, but she didn’t complain. If anything, she laughed, breathy and teasing.

“That’s more like it.”

Five muttered something under his breath, but it wasn’t comprehensible, even to him. He was too focused on setting the pace—fast, raw, almost feral. It was different from the other night.

“No one… else… huh?” He echoed his words from earlier, voice rough in her ear.

“Need… me… to say… it again?” Lila managed between sharp, gasping breaths.

His grip tightened, fingers slipping around to her front, just like in the motel. But this time, they hovered just shy of her clit—teasing, waiting.

“I think… you’ll want to.” His voice was a low growl.

Lila bit her lip, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. Then, just as he slowed to drag things out, she gave in.

“No one else.”

The words barely left her lips before his fingers finally pressed down, working her swollen nub in time with his thrusts. It didn’t take long for both of them to reach their peaks. Five’s forehead dropped against her shoulder as he rode out the last waves, his breath hot against her skin.

For a moment, neither of them moved, both catching their breath. Then Lila let out a breathless laugh.

“Not bad, old man.”

Five groaned, pulling away slightly, but not before pressing an absentminded kiss to her shoulder. “Shut up.”

He pulled out, grabbed his clothes and stumbled upstairs.

Shit.

He sighed, but knew he could blame his little slip up on the alcohol. Afterall, it was the alcohol’s fault.

---

Five groaned as he woke up, rolling onto his side and reaching for the lamp. He switched it off as fast as he could, the sudden brightness only worsening the throbbing in his head.

Shower.

If Lila saw him like this first thing in the morning, he’d never hear the end of it. He didn’t need the smug remarks or the half-serious lecture about his hangover. A shower would help clear his head, and the Tylenol was in the bathroom too.

The water rushing over him brought a sliver of clarity. He needed to see the family today—talk to them before they assumed he’d outright taken Lila’s side. Diego had no doubt gone back and aired his grievances to everyone. And honestly? He had every right to.

Stepping out of the shower, Five reached for the medicine cabinet. His reflection caught his eye. Running a hand over his jaw, he noted the stubble coming in thicker than before. A proper beard was starting to take shape now, not just the patchy remnants of adolescence. It was strange—his hair and nails still grew at a normal speed, but he could see the changes in his face. The way his jaw had filled out. The way time had finally started to catch up with him.

Pushing his wet hair back, he sighed and turned away from the mirror.

He went to get dressed throwing on a navy sweater and pulled on the same jeans from the day before. He looked at his black suit that he arrived in this timeline in. The last time he wore it, he noted that the jacket was starting to feel tight across his shoulders. If anyone decided to start something today, he was already dealing with one restraint—not being able to blip. He didn’t need his clothes acting as another.

Heading downstairs, he spotted Lila curled up on the sofa, still under the duvet. She was sleeping with her top on, but her trousers and underwear were exactly where she’d left them. Guess she hadn’t made it much further after last night.

Five grabbed a bowl of cereal, eating in the kitchen so he wouldn’t disturb her. Once finished, he picked up his notepad and pen from the table, quietly put on his shoes, and slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him.

The Academy looked the same from the outside, but stepping through the doors, he could see the subtle changes. The scattered debris had been cleared away. It still needed fresh plaster and a coat of paint, but it was taking shape and it felt like the place might actually clean up well.

Five figured his siblings had taken their old rooms. It made the most sense—familiar territory. He headed toward Diego’s, knocking once before pushing the door open. Although it was already 10a.m. he assumed he would still be in bed after yesterday’s fiascos.

Sure enough, Diego was lying on his bed, his back to the door. Five assumed he was still asleep, likely he had also spent his evening drinking, judging by the empty tequila bottle Five almost kicked. He pulled out his notepad, jotted down his number on a page and started to rip it out—right as Diego startled awake, grabbing a knife from his bedside table.

"It’s just me," Five said, not even bothering to look up.

"Jeeze, man." Diego ran a hand down his face. "Even when you can’t blink, you still just appear."

“I did knock.” Five placed the torn piece of paper on Diego’s nightstand.

Diego frowned at it. “What’s that?”

"My number. Text me when you sort out a phone."

"Okay… why?"

"So I can tell you when the baby’s coming."

Diego scoffed. "Did you not hear me yesterday? I want nothing to do with it."

Five finally looked at him, levelling him with a stare. “You might not want to deal with Lila right now, but do you really want to miss out on your kid? We should be better than our parents were. At least try to be.”

Diego exhaled sharply, staring at the piece of paper before turning his attention back to Five.

“Wait—why are you the one telling me when the baby’s coming? You haven’t kicked her out yet?"

"I’m not kicking her out."

Diego gave him a long, incredulous look. If he thought his brother was smarter he would have assumed maybe something had clicked. “Oh, come on, Five. Family always comes first for you. So why the hell are you helping her over any of us? Don’t tell me you’re fu—”

Five raised his hand not allowing Diego to finish his crude sentence. He didn’t flinch, didn’t scowl—his face remained a perfectly neutral mask as he deflected the answer. Rule four. If anyone asks, deny it. But Five didn’t lie, either. Instead, he opted for a different kind of truth.

"It’s because I owe her," he said simply. “I took away her family. Killed her parents. Set everything in motion. If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t have found you, and you two wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Diego studied him for a long moment, like he was trying to decide if it was bullshit. Eventually, he shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

"You really know how to make everything sound like a math equation, don’t you?"

Five smirked faintly as Diego sighed, picking up the piece of paper. He held it and gave a small nod. In acceptance, Five assumed and it was all he needed. Without another word, he turned and left, letting the door click shut behind him.

By now, he presumed most of his siblings were probably awake and likely in the kitchen. That’s where he decided to go next.

When he arrived, Klaus ever perceptive, spotted him first. "Hey! Cinco! What are you doing here? Wait, wait—don’t tell me. Lila kicked you out instead of the other way around?"

Five sighed, reminding himself that Diego needed an outlet. He needed to moan and this bunch was all he had.

"No," he said flatly. "Just wanted to catch up with how everyone was…" His eyes landed on Klaus’s hands. "Why are you wearing medical gloves?"

"Ah, well, you know—no longer immortal, and now I’m highly aware that this place is a dust-infested death trap."

"For the last time, Klaus, dust can’t kill you." Viktor sounded as grumpy as Five felt.

Klaus scoffed. "Easy for you to say! Your body’s been fighting stuff off your whole life! We have no idea if I even have an immune system."

"Klaus…" Five pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you didn’t, you’d have been dying every other week as a kid. Think before you speak."

Klaus pulled a face, flapping his gloved hand like a talking mouth in mockery. "Ooooh, look at Five with all his science and logic—" Then his eyes flicked up and down, realisation dawning. "Wait a second." He grinned. "Where’s the suit? Domestication already got to you in this new reality of ours? Actually—" He hopped off the table he was perched on instead of sitting in a chair and strode over. "Are you taller?"

Before Five could step back, Klaus was already measuring him against himself.

"Yes," Five answered curtly, but Klaus’s hand was already on his face.

"Do you have—" Klaus squinted. "Stubble?"

Five batted his hand away. "Yes. Alright? I’m aging."

"Rapidly?" Viktor asked, stepping closer to get a look.

Five shot him a sharp glare and Viktor stopped in his tracks.

"I’ll be able to tell you in a few weeks," Five muttered.

The questions and attitudes of all were already getting under his skin. Best to keep this brief.

His gaze drifted to the biggest presence in the room—the one sitting silently at the table.

Luther.

Holding a cup of something, barely reacting to the conversation, not even throwing out an idiotic remark.

Five frowned.

He started toward him, but before he could speak, Viktor quietly said, "He’s hardly spoken."

Five gave Viktor a slight nod of acknowledgment before pulling out a chair and sitting beside his brother. Luther didn’t move. Didn’t even glance his way.

“I’ve been looking for Sloane.”

Luther’s eyes lit up like someone had turned on a switch. Five could practically see the hope flare to life.

"And?" Luther’s hand twitched, like he was about to grab Five’s shoulders but thought better of it.

Five exhaled. “No luck. It’s… blind searching at this point. Whoever’s still left in a phone book.”

The light went out. Luther slumped back. Turns out even the biggest can look the smallest in a blink of an eye.

Five considered his next words before asking, “Any idea where she was born? Who her birth parents were?”

Luther’s jaw tensed. “We… We didn’t really get a chance to talk about all of that.”

"It was only a few days," Five finished for him.

Luther nodded, staring down at his cup. Five didn’t say anything else. There wasn’t much else to say.

Standing up he gave Luther a brief but sincere pat on the shoulder.

"Do… do you think she’s out there?" Luther’s big, sorrowful eyes followed him.

Five exhaled, shoving his hands in his pockets, not turning back around. “I don’t think we have enough data to rule it out, but we also don’t have enough to confirm she is. I’m sorry, Luther. I have several theories, but—”

"Tell me." Luther's voice was tight with desperation.

Five sighed, facing him again. "They aren’t all pleasant." He warned.

"Is there any with hope?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then tell me. Tell me all of them."

Klaus had climbed back onto the table again, perching like a particularly invested crow. Across from Luther, Viktor took a seat, reaching out his hand. Luther grabbed it without hesitation, grounding himself.

Five studied the room before beginning. “Theory one: Sloane’s out there. She’s where she would’ve been if she’d stayed with her birth parents. Maybe there are alternate versions of us in this timeline, versions with our powers or maybe we replace them, and there are other people out there, wondering where the hell they went.”

Luther swallowed, but nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"Theory two: She got misplaced. Just wasn’t in the elevator when we reset everything. The same way Allison wasn’t."

At the mention of Allison, Five scanned the room. "Has anyone heard from her?"

Heads shook.

"Alright. Which brings me to theory three—" Five hesitated for a beat. "And this is the one to brace yourself for."

Luther’s grip on Viktor’s hand tightened.

"You were dead. She’s gone, but you’re back. Equivalent exchange.”

The words landed like a stone in water. Luther shot to his feet, looking at Five like he’d just spat in his face. His hands found Five’s shoulders, gripping his sweater like he wanted to shake the idea out of him.

"Luther," Five warned, voice flat. "I’m going to count to three."

"Don’t treat me like a child, Five!"

"Then don’t act like one."

Luther’s grip faltered. He let go. Five smoothed down his jumper, unfazed.

"How can you say it’s equivalent exchange?"

Five arched a brow looking up at him. "Well, for body mass, maybe it took both Allison and Sloane to bring you back."

The comment came out sharper than intended, but he was already done being manhandled for the morning. Bitter pill to swallow, though—to have potentially lost the only two women who ever loved you.

"Whoa, whoa, woah there!" Klaus interjected, sensing the shift in the room.

Five caught the faintest twitch of Viktor’s mouth—a barely there flicker of something. Apparently, even at the end, there were still hard feelings.

"You think Allison is gone?" Diego’s voice cut in as he entered the kitchen.

Five glanced at him. "I don’t see her. No one’s heard from her. I’m just saying—it’s not outside the realm of possibility."

"Yet she made it. And the baby…" Diego’s expression darkened. "Ugh."

It turned something in Five’s stomach. He wasn’t sure what, but he couldn’t let it slide.

"Don’t go wishing things away, Diego. Enough people have already disappeared."

Diego glared at him, arms crossed like Five had committed some kind of betrayal just by standing there.

Luther slumped back into his chair, rubbing his face with both hands. “Sloane and I… we wanted a family.” His voice was quieter now, hollow.

Too many emotions. Time to leave.

Five straightened. “Diego has my number. Text me.”

He turned, meeting Diego’s eyes—the same traitorous look still burning there.

"Or don’t," Five added, before pushing past him and leaving the suffocating kitchen behind.

If only he could blip out of this house entirely.

---

When Five returned home, the sofa was back in its usual state. Lila sat at the table, eating her usual breakfast—toast—while scanning the newspaper, pen in hand.

"Where'd you run off to?" she asked, not bothering to look up as she circled something in the paper.

"Checked on the family."

"Bet that went well."

"Diego especially enjoyed it."

That made her glance up, chewing as she gave him a pointed look. "What did you tell him?"

Five pulled out a chair, sitting across from her. "Gave him my number. Up to him if he decides to use it."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"As promised," he added, meeting her gaze. "Communication goes through me." He pulled the newspaper toward him. Job section.

"You know, your money's gonna run out at some point," she said, watching him. "Might wanna look into something too. I saw something for bartending and oh!”

Five barely had time to react before he felt a sharp jab against his arm. Lila’s lidded pen dug into his sleeve, then slid across the newspaper to point at one of the job listings.

“Strippers wanted.”

He rolled his eyes, shoving the paper back toward her.

Lila smirked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she turned her attention back to the listings. Five knew he was staring.

How was it that he could barely stand ten minutes with his family—being manhandled, questioned, scrutinised—yet he came straight back here? To her. To someone who poked, prodded, and provoked him just as much, if not more. He could have gone for a walk. Could have found somewhere quiet to be alone. But instead, he went home. To her.

The argument from less than twenty-four hours ago still simmered under his skin. Annoying, but not pressing. What clung to him more was Diego’s words, his anger, the implication that Lila should have been erased in the reset. That hit a nerve deeper than Five wanted to acknowledge.

Fuck.

That kiss on her shoulder… maybe it wasn’t just the alcohol talking.

Chapter Text

Three and a half weeks came and went quickly.

Five got a text from an unknown number—just two words: "It's me."

Although there was a chance it could have been any one of four siblings—assuming he passed his number along—the bluntness of the message left no doubt in his mind. It was Diego.

The friends with benefits arrangement continued. Lila had made it clear that either being on top—which created a natural distance between them—or doing it from behind was far more comfortable for her than other ways. She didn’t need him bouncing on top of her with her now small but evermore-noticeable bump. That was fine by Five. In fact, he preferred it. It kept him playing it safe, avoiding any potential moments of intimacy that might blur the lines between what this was and what it wasn’t. When he felt his mouth twitch and about to betray him, he put it to better uses, in places it and his tongue were free to roam. Desires to suck or bite her neck were directed to her breasts, her nipples, where both actions were acceptable. If thoughts occurred of kissing her, his tongue dancing along with hers, he made sure to put it where he could make the best use of those urges. Licking her clit and tongue fucking her entrance whilst drinking in her scent and taste in a way that otherwise wasn’t permittable.

Alcohol intake had tapered off again after their fight. Now, it was just a finger or two in the evening—sometimes none at all. Especially if dinner ended with Lila in the mood for something else. If she was up for it but unlikely to stay up late, he found he didn’t need the drink after. A good meal, followed by other... distractions, released enough endorphins that the usual pull of alcohol didn’t seem as strong.

Meanwhile, Lila continued attending interviews, and Five watched her return from each one more frustrated than the last.

When she was honest about being pregnant, it shut the conversation down almost immediately—places weren’t supposed to discriminate, but the moment she mentioned it, their interest faded. When she lied, the rejection came for a different reason. “You’re in your thirties with no work history,” they’d say, demanding some kind of explanation. But how was she supposed to spin that? Even when she kept the pregnancy hidden, it still limited her options. Heavy lifting? Off the table. Certain environments? Too risky. There were restrictions everywhere she turned.

She tried to act indifferent, like it didn’t bother her, but Five wasn’t blind. Every rejection chipped away at her bravado, and the more hopeless she looked, the more he found himself trying to think of a solution.

Five, on the other hand, had no intention of wasting his time with some dead-end job just to make ends meet. If this world was stable—if nothing was waiting in the shadows to undo everything—then he wanted to do something worthwhile. And realistically, nothing meaningful came without some form of education. So, he took a different approach.

He started looking into college and university applications. Some institutions took candidates on a case-by-case basis, allowing them to present theories or research projects instead of relying on traditional qualifications. It was an avenue worth pursuing. He just wasn’t sure where to start yet. For now, he kept his potential optimistic thoughts of the future to himself.

He was still taking notes daily, still scanning the news for anything unusual, still keeping track of patterns that might indicate something was wrong. But what started as morning, noon, and night observations eventually dwindled. Three times a day became twice, then once. Then every other day. His journal—once a log of possible anomalies and inventory—began to fill with different notes: ideas for projects, thoughts on potential studies, and the occasional interesting thing which had happened.

One entry stood out among the rest.

Saturday, 8:32 PM
"It feels like popcorn popping."

That was what Lila had turned to him and said, wide-eyed, when she felt the first flutters—the first kicks.

That night, Five had sat alone with pregnancy book, reading through foetus development and movement. He learned that consistence kicks wouldn’t come until around twenty-five weeks. The next day, when she didn’t feel anything, he was able to reassured her.

He started noticing when it happened. She’d go quiet, her hand pressing lightly to her stomach, eyes closing for just a moment. If kicking her was a sure-fire way to shut her up, he might have used it a long time ago.

He never made the joke. Instead, he just watched. Let her have that fleeting moment. Then, as always, normality resumed.

---

Five sat at the table, eating his cereal in the same spot he did every morning.

The routine was starting to change—the scrape of the spoon against the bowl, the hum of the fridge, the distant sound of water running upstairs—but the newspaper was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his notepad lay open in front of him, pen resting idly beside it. He had already flicked through his notes earlier and knew exactly what day it was.

The scan.

Lila came down the stairs quietly, one hand idly rubbing her stomach as she stepped into the kitchen. The background noise of clattering plates and glasses filled the space until she emerged again, balancing a plate of jam on toast. She disappeared briefly before returning with two glasses of water, setting them down with the kind of expression one might reserve for an enemy.

"I don’t know how I’m gonna hold all of that in until my scan," she muttered, staring at the water like it had already personally wronged her.

Five swallowed a mouthful of cereal, watching her with mild amusement. "How are you feeling about it?"

"It would be better if I had someone to bloody come with me."

He didn’t miss the pointed look she threw his way.

"I can text Diego if you want," he offered.

"When did I say that?!"

"Well, who else would you want?"

"You would do."

Five hummed, tapping his spoon against the side of the bowl as he considered it. "I guess I can sit and be judged in the waiting room again if you want."

"No, I don’t want you in the waiting room," Lila said, fixing him with a stare. "I want you in with me."

He blinked. "No."

"And why not?" She crossed her arms. "’Cos someone might accidentally assume you’re the father?"

Five exhaled, unsure how to respond.

"You know, the part of ‘friends with benefits’ is that we’re friends first," she said, voice quieter now.

He looked at her then—really looked at her. There was something almost desperate in the way she said it. Or maybe just scared. He wanted to counter it, to pull out some kind of rule that made this a bad idea, but he came up short.

"I don’t know what you expect me to do," he muttered, stirring his cereal.

"Just sit there, shut up, and hold my hand," she said simply. "I don’t need a running commentary, I just need someone there in case it is not alright."

That made him pause. He looked up again, and this time, the apprehension in her expression had deepened. Fear, raw and unguarded.

A sigh left his lips. He was going. He would sit beside her. He would hold her hand. Shutting up was the easy part. In case it’s not alright. She sounded like him.

"You going to find out?" he asked after a beat. "What they are? So you don’t have to keep saying it?"

"I think having a baby and being a single mum is enough of a surprise," she said, leaning back slightly, rubbing her stomach again. "I want to find out."

"Are you going to keep it a secret, what you’re having?"

"Really, Five?" She shot him a look. "Who have I got to tell other than you?"

He huffed, conceding the point. "Yeah, and I guess you won’t even get the fun of that with me sitting beside you."

For the first time that morning, a small, delicate smile crossed her face. "Thanks."

She took another bite of her toast, washing it down with a sip of water.

---

The walk to the clinic could have been a comfortable silence, but Lila spent the entire time complaining.

"I'm going to piss myself. I really hope they're not running late."

Five glanced at her, unimpressed. "I know we’ll need diapers for you too, but I assumed that came after the birth."

"Ugh!" She groaned dramatically, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as if that would somehow help.

"Regretting asking me to come along yet?" He wore his signature grin just to wind her up further.

"Nope. Watching you uncomfortably shift in that seat and wipe that shit eating grin off your face will make it worth it!"

Five shook his head, sighing as they reached the clinic doors. He pulled one open and gestured her through, earning a muttered "gentleman" under her breath.

Inside, he found a chair while Lila headed to the receptionist’s desk. The waiting room wasn’t any different from before—pregnant women in various stages of discomfort, some with partners who appeared to dote on their other half whilst others look indifferent. Some had toddlers running wild, their snotty noses glistening. The place smelled faintly of antiseptic and something vaguely floral, like the building itself was trying to soften the clinical atmosphere.

Lila returned and dropped into the chair beside him, fidgeting almost immediately. One leg crossed over the other, then swapped. Her fingers gripped the armrests, then let go. Twist, untwist. Bounce her knee, stop, then start again. It was making him feel like he needed the bathroom just watching her.

"Lila Pitts?"

"Thank fuck," she muttered, pushing herself up with haste. "Here!"

Five followed her and the nurse down a hallway, stepping into a dimly lit room. A large screen was mounted on the wall, a small examination bed covered in disposable paper sat in the centre, and next to it, the sonographer sat beside the ultrasound machine, hands already poised to begin.

"How are you feeling today, Miss Pitts?"

"Like someone who’s about to be hospitalised for a burst bladder."

The sonographer chuckled, clearly accustomed to the sentiment. "Alright, let’s get you set up. Go ahead and lie back, top up, trousers slightly down."

Lila wasted no time, clearly operating on the faster-this-is-over-the-better logic. Meanwhile, Five hovered, unsure where to position himself.

"You can sit next to her if you want," the sonographer offered, gesturing to a chair beside the bed.

He ran his hand through his hair as he took the seat, watching as Lila settled in.

"Okay then, so today we’re going to check on baby," the sonographer explained, adjusting the machine. "Have you felt any movements yet?"

"Yeah, not consistently, but almost daily now."

"That’s great. So the 20-week scan is mostly to check for any abnormalities, but if baby is in a good position, we can also find out what you’re having—if you’d like."

Lila nodded. The sonographer handed her some tissue. "Tuck this into your trousers so we don’t get gel on your clothes, and we’ll get started. I’ll do all the necessary checks first, and then I’ll turn the screen on so you two can watch."

That’s when he felt it—her hand slipping into his.

Checks I need. The sonographers words echoing. 

Five glanced at Lila, noting how her breathing was just that bit heaver. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. She didn’t look at him—her focus was locked on the bottle of gel as it was squeezed onto her stomach. The wand followed, pressing into her skin with more force than she had apparently anticipated. Her grip on his hand tightened.

Time had always been Five’s domain. He could feel seconds stretching out in his mind, measure them as precisely as a clock. But as the sonographer worked, shifting the wand, taking silent measurements, the screen in front of them still blank, time felt endless. He could see it in Lila, too—her whole body tense, her gaze fixed on the sonographer’s face, trying to read any flicker of reaction.

But the woman was a master at neutrality, her expression giving away nothing.

Then finally.

"Okay! Let’s get that screen on, shall we?"

The moment the screen flickered to life, it felt like someone had opened a window and fresh air blew in.

And there they were on the screen, having a full-on wiggle.

Clearly, they couldn’t sit still—just like their mother.

Lila let out a breathy chuckle, eyes locked on the grainy black-and-white image, tears threating to fall as they built in the side of her eyes. "Are they always moving like that?"

"Yeah, unless they’re sleeping. Don’t worry, you’ll get to feel all their fidgeting soon enough," the sonographer said with an amused smile.

The conversation between them became distant background noise to Five. His focus was entirely on the screen. He had seen ultrasound scans before—in books, on TV—but seeing it in person? Watching this actual tiny human moving around, stretching, bringing a hand to its mouth and sucking its thumb?

It wasn’t what he expected.

His usual deep-set scowl eased without him realising it. His eyebrows relaxed, his entire face softened as he watched the baby squirm. He knew they were in there, he saw the previous scan several times noting it on Lila’s bedside table but watching them moving around, in front of him was entirely different.

"So, we can see they have two arms and two legs," the sonographer narrated. "Legs are crossed, so we’ll have to come back to the genitals later. We check for the four chambers of the heart next, so I’m going to zoom in now."

The image adjusted, shifting until the pulsing chambers of the heart filled the screen. Beating in a steady, perfect rhythm. The sonographer paused at intervals, freezing the frame to take stills.

Each time she did, Five felt Lila’s hand twitch in his.

Sit there, shut up, and hold my hand. That was what she had asked for. But she was nervous—more than she was letting on—and she wasn’t asking questions.

"Why are you taking images?" Five asked, keeping his voice steady.

"Oh, nothing to worry about," the sonographer reassured. "Everything looks good, but we always have a senior tech take a look to double-check. The heart looks great."

Lila squeezed his hand again—longer this time. He glanced at her, catching the small, relieved smile on her face. He didn’t return it, just turned his attention back to the screen, but without thinking, his thumb started tracing slow, absentminded circles against the back of her hand.

"Okay, so I’m going to move to the brain now."

Lila huffed out a quiet laugh. "Hopefully they take after me so you can find it."

The moment the words left her mouth, she seemed to realise how they sounded.

Five stilled. The small circles stopped.

She had meant it as a dig at Diego, but with Diego not here, it had landed on himself instead.

He felt Lila stiffening beside him. "The dad… not him… uh—"

The sonographer just smiled, unbothered. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time she had heard something like that either.

Five exhaled through his nose, then—without looking at Lila—resumed the slow, delicate circles against her skin, accepting her attempt at an apology.

“Good news, then. They take after Mommy. Brain looks good.”

The monitor zoomed out and shifted across the screen.

“Okay, do you want to know the gender now, or written down?”

Lila turned to Five, giving a small shrug. He could tell she was allowing him to have a say, he couldn't work out why, this was definitely a shut-up moment. 

“Now, then,” she decided.

The sonographer’s voice took on a singsong quality, practiced from delivering this news countless times.

“It’s a girl.”

“Huh… A mini me…” Lila mused, staring at the screen.

The baby had stilled now, but her thumb remained in her mouth, small suckling motions barely visible.

“That one will be cute,” the sonographer commented, freezing the screen again to take another image. A quiet whirring noise came from the corner of the room as the picture printed. She bent down, retrieved them, and handed them to Five whilst stating, “Okay, we are all done here.”

He looked down.

She was right. It was cute.

Lila let go of his hand, shifting as she reached for a tissue, wiping the gel from her stomach before scooting into a sitting position.

“The bathroom’s just out the door to the left,” the sonographer informed her.

Lila barely had time to pull her top down before she was out the door.

Five turned back to the sonographer. “So, when’s her next scan?” He knew Lila would want to ask but her bladder was the priority right then.

“She shouldn’t need any more! If baby turns head-down towards the end and everything continues to measure well, this should be the last one.”

Five glanced back at the photo in his hands. So this was it. The only image they’d have for the next twenty weeks, possibly the last time they will see her before she is born.

“Thanks,” he said with a small nod before stepping out to wait for Lila.

When she returned, relief was evident on her face.

“I just pissed like a racehorse.”

“Delightful,” he deadpanned, taking one last look at the sonogram before holding it out to her. “Here.”

Lila’s eyes lit up again as she took it, staring down at the picture. Her finger traced the baby’s face.

“Can’t believe it’s gonna be a little girl… Gonna have to start thinking of some names.”

“You don’t have anything in mind?”

She hummed, tucking the photo carefully into her pocket as they walked toward the exit. “Maybe a couple.”

They stepped outside neither making much of a move in any direction.

“Want to go out for lunch?”

“That sounds nice Five.”

Her hand slipped back into his.

He chalked it up to the endorphins of the moment. He could have pulled away—this was definitely unnecessary contact—but he’d already been holding her hand for the last twenty minutes. What was twenty more at this point?

He led her in a direction deliberately in the opposite direction of The Academy.

“Do you want to go to a coffee shop?”

The question took him by surprise. “Will your stomach handle it?” Five smiled. It had been a rough few weeks. He only made himself coffee when she was out or grabbed one while running errands. It made times reaching for a drink worse and he was aware. One addiction was just traded for another.

“Not been sick in over a week, but we’ll find out soon enough. Besides, I think you deserve a thank you after coming with me to that.”

They came across a café Five didn’t recognise. After running into Diego at his usual spot, it wasn’t worth the risk—especially not while still holding hands. Though, was this really hand-holding? Five pondered. Or just leading someone from one place to another? They’d done it plenty back in Hotel Obsidian. The more he tried to make sense of it, the less it made sense.

Snapping back to the present, he found himself at the counter. Lila looked fine—not pale, not queasy—so ordering coffee and something to eat seemed safe.

Lila ordered tea, a bacon and chicken sandwich, and a millionaire’s shortbread. Five got a black coffee, a brie and bacon toastie, and a strawberry cheesecake. He had a nagging suspicion that no matter what he ordered, it would be fair game for Lila to pick at. The sandwich was a safe bet—she couldn’t eat the soft cheese—but the dessert…

“Can I have the strawberry?” she asked the moment they sat down.

“I’m surprised you even asked.” He pushed the plate toward her as she plucked the decorative strawberry from the top.

Then, she cut a piece off her brownie and slid it onto his plate.

“There. Even,” she grinned, already digging into her brownie before even touching her sandwich.

Five shook his head, but a flicker of amusement crossed his face.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” he said.

Lila paused mid-bite, “huh, you’re pregnant!?” She quipped, voice loud enough that the nearby table glanced over.

Five’s eye twitched.

Ignoring her, he continued, “I’m not planning on getting a job just yet. I’ve been looking into colleges and universities—places where you can get in with a well-presented theory, report, or presentation on something. Usually mathematics or science-based.”

Lila smirked. “Well, if you’re doing it on maths, let me double-check your paper first.”

Five rolled his eyes, momentarily regretting bringing it up. But before he could back out, her voice softened.

“I think it’s a good idea. You shouldn’t waste away at any old job. You’re too smart—and, to be honest, too old for that. Climbing the ranks, paying your dues… may as well start at the top, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“Got any ideas yet?”

“I was thinking of something I know that others wouldn’t. Time travel would get me laughed out of the building, but discussing the use of quantum teleportation, quantum sensors, or metrology devices for teleportation might turn some heads. Quantum-enhanced measurements could be achieved by teleporting quantum states of particles—like atoms or photons—which could improve gravimetric, magnetometric, and timekeeping measurements.”

Lila nodded, though he could tell half of that went over her head. “Sounds sensible enough. Where’s Sloane to co-write when you need her, huh?”

Five hummed, about to continue when his phone vibrated.

Instinctively, he glanced at Lila, double-checking that both her hands were occupied. She’d texted him before while sitting right next to him just to mess with him. But no—both hands were on her sandwich now.

Frowning, he pulled out his phone.

Unknown number:
Allison made contact. She’s coming home. - Luther

Chapter Text

After Luther’s initial text, Five spent the next few days attempting to organise a family meeting before Allison’s arrival. He knew tensions would run high—Sloane was still missing, Harlan’s death still lingered between Viktor and her, and their last encounter with Allison had left more wounds than resolutions. The sooner they sat down and dealt with it, the better.

But trying to pin everyone down for a discussion was proving to be an aggravating challenge. Luther, for one, was barely home. He spent every waking moment searching for Sloane, his determination reignited by the revelation that Allison was alive. Five understood it—if one impossibility had turned out to be real, why not another? But it was a fragile kind of hope, one that Five worried would break him all over again. Finally they had all agreed to an evening chat, apart from Ben but no one had heard from him since he walked off.

---

As Five tied his shoes, he glanced up at Lila, who was waiting for him to move so she could grab hers.

“Are you sure you want to come?”

Lila smirked. “A black sheep is returning. Might as well see how shunned she’s gonna be to work out where I stand on the pecking order.”

Five stepped aside and Lila retrieved her shoes before flopping onto the sofa to put them on.

“Are you going to be able to ignore Diego?”

“Well…” She tugged at her laces, not looking up. “I was thinking—he probably should know it’s a girl. If I get a chance.”

Five studied her for a moment. Was this her way of proving she wasn’t keeping secrets? An attempt to show she’d changed? To who though? Him or Diego?

“You think that’ll change his mind on any of it?” He unlocked the door, glancing outside. Do you want it to change his mind on it?

Lila exhaled, getting up and joining him by the door. “I don’t even think he’ll let me speak. But I can always just shout it at him—‘It’s a girl, by the way!’—before leaving or something.” She gave an exaggerated shrug.

Five didn’t respond.

It was a very Hargreeves approach to conflict—try to talk, get ignored, then just yell your point louder with a bit of sarcasm for good measure.

The walk to The Academy was easy. The air was warm, both of them in t-shirts—Five opting for slacks instead of jeans, Lila in a flannel-patterned skirt not too different from what she wore before the reset. Her bump rested just above the waistband, not big yet, but pronounced enough that there was no mistaking it now.

“I wonder when I’ll start to walk funny,” Lila mused out loud.

“Who says you don’t already?” Five quipped, earning himself a shove to the arm.

“Oi, you know what I mean—the proper pregnancy penguin waddle.” She exaggerated a waddle, hands resting on her belly for effect.

Five chuckled and shook his head.

The Academy looked tidier than it had in months. The ivy had been cut back, the weeds between the slabs leading to the entrance were gone. Even the lights were on when they stepped inside. Power was back. It finally looked like it was habitable again. Someone had even attempted to paint the entrance.

“Hello?” Lila called out, and after a beat, Klaus appeared.

“Look at you!” Klaus beamed. “Bun in the oven! How much longer to cook?” It was strange to watch his brother not hug someone on arrival. He never hugged him, that was their normal but he usually flung his arms around anyone so much as an acquaintance. Five had already briefed Lila on his new germophobic tendencies and rubber gloved hands.

“Nineteen weeks or so.”

“Wow, bet that time will just fly by. Sleep while you can, and don’t let this grumpy old man tell you otherwise. A good siesta is crucial.”

Five rolled his eyes, already wondering where the others were.

“And you,” Klaus continued, turning to Five with an exaggerated squint. “Let me get a good look at you.” He reached out, Klaus’ medical looking hands hovering around Five’s face. The proximity was still too close and Five batted him away with a glare. “So, how old are you now, would you say?”

Five sighed. “Age is a bit hard to tell at the moment. There isn’t exactly an exact science, but it seems to have slowed down a little. Somewhere between twenty-two and twenty-five would be my guess.”

“Either stopping at twenty-nine or just proceeding onwards, right?” Lila cut in. They hadn’t talked about it since that first time. When Five glanced at her, she gave him a small sideways smile. He nodded.

“Eh, you’ll be fine either way. You’ll either get to be the grumpy uncle to the kid or the grumpy grandpa.”

“What if I don’t want to be either of those titles?” he shot back. Why does everything have to be ‘grumpy this’ or ‘grumpy that’?

“What, you wanna play stepdad instead?”

Diego’s voice was low and biting.

Five turned to see his brother standing in the hallway, arms crossed.

“Her having someone around is better than nothing, at least,” Five answered with a shrug not rising to the bait.

“Her?” Diego’s gaze narrowed.

“Lila, I mean.” He hoped that was enough to throw him off the baby’s gender but when he saw Diego’s eyes flickering between them, it seemed that he settled on a different conclusion.

 “Wait—so you two are a thing now?”

“What? No!” Five and Lila said in unison.

“Oh, man, and here I thought the drama today was gonna be about Allison.” Klaus threw up his hands. “Allison! Anyone remember that name? The one we actually came here to discuss?” He moved behind everyone ushering them into the next room with a dramatic wave of his arms. “Come on, let’s talk about this while there are still people left to discuss it and not dead on the floor somewhere. We just cleaned up!”

The living quarters had changed. Curtains now hung over the windows, the fireplace looked functional, and out of everything in the room, the bar seemed to have been restored and restocked. Maybe all Hargreeves’ priorities really were the same, Five mused.

He dropped onto the sofa, one leg crossing over his knee as he settled in. Lila lowered herself down next to him, hands resting on her belly. Across from them, Diego and Klaus took their seats. But Luther and Viktor were still nowhere to be seen.

“The others?” Five prompted.

“Here.” Luther’s voice carried in as he entered, Viktor beside him. “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

“Any new leads?” Five asked, already expecting the answer.

“Nothing yet… But now we know Allison is alive. That’s gotta count for something, right?” Luther’s voice held an optimism Five wasn’t ready to match.

“It certainly makes some theories more plausible.” Five leaned back slightly, steepling his fingers.

Luther gave a small, sad smile. “Maybe I could show you later?”

A small nod in agreement was given.

“So,” Klaus started, glancing around the room. Viktor didn’t take a seat but instead leaned against the back of one of the sofas. “Does anyone know more about Allison being back? Like, is this a ‘Hi, I’m alive! Bye again!’ situation or…?”

“Did she not say?” Five asked, his tone flat.

“No. Communication has been brief at best,” Diego muttered. “We know she’s back with Ray, has Claire, and she’s coming to visit in a few days.”

“A few days,” Five repeated, letting the words settle between them. His brow furrowed, fingers drumming idly against his knee. “Then she wasn’t in any rush to get back here. Sounds more like a courtesy call than an actual return.”

He caught it—the way Viktor’s shoulders loosened just a fraction, the fleeting relief that crossed his face.

“So before we start a full-blown witch hunt, maybe she’s just coming to clear the air." Five gave Viktor a look and continued. "So, who wants to crack open the first window?”

“Shit,” Viktor scoffed, shaking his head. “When did you become so forgiving?”

Five exhaled sharply, tilting his head. “I’m trying to see the bigger picture. Yeah, she made a deal with Reginald, but it’s possible that deal was meant for all of us.”

“Or it was just to get Claire back, and she felt kinda bad watching us all die in front of her,” Viktor countered, voice measured but pointed. “What, we’ve all thought it.”

“Or that,” Five agreed. They were all cynical at heart, maybe with the exception of Luther.

“I donno. She seemed genuinely upset when she heard about Luther and Klaus being dead or left behind.” Lila added, though there was a slight uncertainty in her voice.

“Or,” Viktor said flatly, “good acting.”

“Okay, is anyone else getting the vibe that our dear brother here is not thrilled about Allison’s grand return?” Klaus cut in, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Viktor who promptly rolled his eyes at him.

“The better question,” Viktor countered, his voice starting to rise, “is why are you all so quick to forgive? She murdered Harlan. She got Luther killed and almost all of us along with him. And if you’re so keen on giving her the benefit of the doubt, then where is Sloane? Did she even include her in the grand plan for the family, because it certainly doesn't look like it.”

Luther stiffened immediately. “Take that back, Viktor. You don’t know that.”

“No?” Viktor’s gaze locked onto him. “I saw her. How jealous she was at that wedding. Probably because everyone else found someone to shack up with or had someone else to be around except her, Five, and me.”

“No, no, I saw it. Our elderly brother had company that night,” Klaus interjected, grinning far too wide.

Five froze. His mind raced, weighing his options—glare and hope Klaus shut up, or call his bluff? No one else was around that night to see. The staircase Lila and Diego were… on, was right next to the  room he swiped the key for and Lila waltzed straight in. She didn’t even know he was in there. There was no way anyone saw or could know anything. Unless—

“So, Ben and I took the party upstairs,” Klaus continued, waggling his eyebrows. “We’re on the landing, minding our own business, when in stumbles our tiny dancer, drunk as a skunk, grabs a room key, and takes a mannequin, proceeds to drunkenly fall on top of it. He apologises! And then-”

“Enough, Klaus. Alright?” Five snapped.

It was rare for him to become flustered. Rarer still for everyone to witness it. Heat crawled up the back of his neck, and he gritted his teeth as Klaus’s shit-eating grin widened.

“Holy shit, you actually took a mannequin for company?” Diego barked out a laugh.

“Can we just—” Five exhaled sharply through his nose. “Go back to the main point here? Allison. Jealous. Continue.” His glare was enough to make Klaus momentarily back down, though the smile never left his face. In a way he was grateful it was the mannequin he saw and not Lila going into his room to not come back out.

Although there were small laughs from the main three idiots, Five noticed it—Lila was quiet. He flicked a glance her way, a subtle side-eye, and found her wearing a smile. At first glance, he thought it looked like she was joining in with the teasing, but something was off. She wasn’t making eye contact with anyone, her gaze fixed somewhere distant, her expression not sharp with mockery but softened—almost sympathetic.

Dolores. Have. Some. Damn. Respect. For. Me.

Was this her way of showing it? Sitting out of the joke, letting the others have a laugh while she kept her distance?

Viktor, looking mildly uncomfortable, cleared his throat. “Right. So Allison was definitely alone that night. Until she met up with Reginald, right Five?” Five nodded, grateful his brother picked up from where he left off. Viktor carried on. “Maybe she wanted to punish you, Luther.”

Luther frowned. “What? Why?”

“We all arrived in a new timeline, with nothing. She had nothing, lost Claire for a second time. And yet, you found something perfectly yours. There’s always been tension between you two. Maybe she thought this time around, if she was going to have nothing she could have at least something with you but…” Viktor trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. He may have been angry at Allison and happy to throw shade her way but it was evident that he still loved his big brother.

However, Luther’s expression went stiff, his jaw tightening as the colour drained slightly from his already pale face. His hands slowly folded, his gaze dropping to them in his lap.

“There… might be some truth to that,” he admitted quietly. “She rumoured me,” his voice now barely above a whisper. “I mean… it was practically nothing.”

“What do you mean?” Diego asked, his usual bite softened.

Luther hesitated, shifting in his seat. “She heard where I was going, to see Sloane. She didn’t want me to leave. So… she said, I heard a rumour that you... wanted... me.” The last few words where barely audible but the silence that followed proved everyone heard them just fine.

“She stopped it right away,” Luther added quickly, waving a hand like that was supposed to make it less awful. “But that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t have gotten rid of Sloane.”

“Why not?” Viktor’s voice was cold. “She only killed Harlan when he no longer had his power.”

The distress on Luther’s face was becoming more evident.

“Great,” Five finally said, clapping his hands onto his thighs. The noise catching everyone's attention, dragging any eyes off of Luther momentarily, hopefully giving him space to breath. “I think that concludes that we now have more questions than before. And; when she shows up, it’s officially sounding more like a court case than a reunion. So, how about we at least hear her out before anyone appoints themselves judge, jury, and executioner?”

“You’re one to talk, Five. How many of us have you threatened to kill?” Diego scoffed, leaning forwards.

Five tilted his head, completely unfazed. “Probably all of you. More than once. Not without valid reasons, though.”

A collective scoff rippled through the room, a mix of amusement and exasperation. The conversation had clearly run its course, and the siblings started shifting, stretching, preparing to disperse.

Five caught movement out of the corner of his eye—Lila adjusting her seat, rubbing the small of her back. It was subtle, but she was uncomfortable. Diego noticed too, his gaze fixed on her in a way that made Five certain he was waiting for a moment. To do what though, he wasn’t sure.

Before Five could try to say anything to Lila, Viktor walked over, rubbing his arm, stopping in front of Five.

“Can we have a chat?” Viktor asked, his voice quieter than the fire he was speaking with minutes ago.

Five studied him for a moment before a low “Yeah,” came from his lips.

Without another word, he stood and followed his smaller brother out.

They walked past the stairs and into a small room that had once been Reginald’s office. The air was thick with dust and the scent of old wood.

“I hated coming in here as a kid,” Viktor muttered, running a hand along the edge of the desk as if expecting it to bite.

Five didn’t respond, just waited, letting Viktor find his words.

“When we came back—no powers, no home—I thought it would be a fresh start,” Viktor continued, his voice quiet. “Ironic, isn’t it? This place was empty, and yet, somehow, most of us ended up under the same roof again.”

Five studied him, trying to gauge if there was a dig in there. A slight jab about him not being here with them.

“You certainly served your time, though,” Viktor added after a pause. His tone was softer now, more curious than anything else. “Are you happy where you are? Living with Lila?”

Five let out a short breath, crossing his arms. “She’s temporary and the house is just until the next end of the world.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Five took a deep breath though his mouth, running a finger over an empty shelf. “Best company I’ve had.”

Viktor’s lips twitched, almost amused. “Most people finish that sentence with ‘in years’ but I suppose for you it’s in a lifetime huh.”

Five just shrugged and leant against the book shelves looking at Viktor expectantly. “What did you want to talk about?”

Viktor hesitated, for a moment. “I think… I could have done it. Lived with everyone here in an ordinary way. Just…” His jaw tightened. “Not with her. If she comes back,” Viktor said, voice steady but firm, “I need to go.”

"You might be jumping ahead of yourself, it might be a visit not a stay but life is short… or, in some cases, ridiculously long." Five spoke the words like a fact rather than a consolation, his hands slipping into his pockets as he watched Viktor. "If you can't live with her and don't want to fight to stay, you need to do what makes you happy."

Viktor nodded, staring down at his hands as if weighing the decision.

Five watched him and let out a small sigh. “If leaving is what you need…” His voice became softer, speaking with his tone he reserved for when almost trying to parent. “So be it because if you’re not going to find peace here, then go find it somewhere else.” With that, Five gave a small side smile, walking up to his brother and giving him a small squeeze on the shoulder before making his towards the door.

“Is that what you are doing Five? Finding it somewhere else?”

He didn’t turn back around.

“No idea.”

As he passed the stairs, something in his peripheral caught his attention—Diego and Lila, standing close together in hushed conversation. Diego's hand rested lightly against her belly, and although Five couldn’t hear what was being said, he didn’t need to.

His stomach twisted.

Jealousy was a bitter, curling in his ribs, but there was no room to voice it. No right to, either. Instead, he schooled his expression into something unreadable and kept walking, pretending he didn’t even see.

Re-entering the main room, Five called out, “Luther, you wanted to show me what you’ve found on Sloane so far?”

Luther looked up, surprised but pleased. Five, however, made a detour, heading for the drinks cabinet. He grabbed a bottle of tequila, not because he wanted tequila, but because it felt like the perfect fuck you to Diego.

He cracked the bottle open as he followed Luther upstairs, taking a long swig.

"Five-"

Lila’s voice stopped him at the bottom of the stairs.

Five didn’t turn back. He raised the bottle slightly in acknowledgment and said, “You two keep going. I’m sure you have a lot to discuss. I’m going to help Luther.”

And with that, he climbed the steps. He had a burn at the back of his throat but the bottle was yet to have touched his lips again.

When Five stepped into Luther’s room, the floor was a mess of sticky notes, maps, scribbled pages, phonebooks, and printed articles.

So Luther does know what a library is, Five thought dryly, taking another swig of tequila before lowering himself onto the floor.

He scanned the names sprawled across the papers, recognising several. With a sigh, he pulled out his pen and started crossing some off.

“Hey!” Luther called out, but Five barely acknowledged him. He reached into his pocket, flipping open his own notepad to a page already littered with crossed-out names. Standing, he took another gulp before passing it over.

“No point doubling up our efforts.”

“Oh.” Luther blinked down at the pages, clearly stunned by Five’s work. He flipped to another page—more names, more marks slashed through.

Five, ignoring him, turned his attention to the map. Pins stuck out in random places, old newspaper clippings, and notes in Luther’s neat handwriting.

“What’s with all the news and weather reports in here?” Luther asked scanning the notebook as Five frowned.

“Luther, I gave you a very specific page. I assumed you’d go through the Sloanes, not rifle through—”

“What does ‘it felt like popcorn’ mean?” Luther interrupted, his voice innocent.

Five snatched the notebook back. “Forget it.”

“Well, clearly you haven’t forgotten it. You timed and dated it.”

Five’s jaw tightened. “Do you want my help or not?”

Luther held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry… I just—maybe a distraction’s needed. And, you know… even Allison isn’t a distraction when she—”

“Was what triggered your hope.” Five cut in, finishing his thought.

Luther nodded solemnly.

With a quiet sigh, Five crouched on the floor again. He made a game out of it—every time he found a Sloane on Luther’s papers that he could cross off, he took a drink.

Luther started walking through his theories, his reasoning, his desperate puzzle pieces. But Five wasn’t really listening. He focused on the list, the tequila, and the slow, steady blur that crept in at the edges of his mind.

Then Luther’s voice started sounding distant, like he was speaking from the far end of a tunnel.

Five scowled, blinking hard at the words on the page, trying to make sense of them. The letters swam. His gaze flicked to the half-empty bottle in his grip.

“How did you know?” The question slipped out before he could stop it. Alcohol removing his usual filter.

Luther paused. “How did I know what?”

“That you were in love.” Five kept his stare on the bottle, rolling it slightly between his fingers. “How does someone even know that kind of thing?” The bottle graced his lips once more.

Luther exhaled, thinking. “I couldn’t stop thinking about her, for a start. Didn’t want to be away from her. When she was hurt, I wanted to make it better. I held her when she cried, and I knew I’d get her soup in bed if she was ever sick.” He let out a soft chuckle. “I just wanted to be there. With her, for everything.” Luther slumped on his bed which let out a creak. “And sure, it’s easy to think it was just because the world was ending. But even if it wasn’t, I would have still done everything just as quickly.”

Five swallowed another mouthful. Luther’s words replayed in his mind, looping over and over, simple and clear—like something out of a children’s book.

And just like a bedtime story, everything faded to black.

---

The next thing he knew, he was in his own bed.

The lamp besides his bed was on, his head pounded, and beside him, Lila sat cross-legged on the mattress, a sick bucket resting near his pillow.

Five blinked at her, disoriented.

“What…” His voice was hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

Lila sighed, she looked exhausted. “Keeping your dumb ass alive.”

Five groaned, pressing his forehead into the pillow. He barely had the energy to argue, and when his stomach turned violently, he didn’t have time to.

Lila held out the bucket, unimpressed but still there. And when he was done, she handed him a glass of water.

Five didn’t make eye contact as he took the glass, taking a mouthful, swirling it in his mouth before spitting it into the bucket. Then he took another, swallowing it down. His head felt like it had been spilt in two, but at least his thoughts were clearing, slowly recalling bits of the previous day.

He looked over her briefly, she was in her underwear, which was all she normally wore for sleeping in.

"Did you stay all night?"

Lila raised an eyebrow. “If you’re asking whether I slept in your bed…” There was a bite to her tone. “No, Five, I didn’t. Because every time you made a weird noise or sounded like you stopped breathing, I had to check you weren’t choking on your own vomit.”

Five kept his gaze averted, his grip tightening on the glass as embarrassment and shame rising in his chest.

“And don’t you dare say it’s good practice,” she added. “I am not looking after two of you.”

“You won’t need to,” he muttered, voice flat. “You’ll move out before she’s here.”

Maybe telling Viktor she was the best company he’d had, made discussing her inevitable move out taste more bitter in his mouth. Or was it Luther going on and on about wanting to be with Sloane for everything which had gotten under his skin? Tying that idea of company with love.

Lila scoffed. “You see me getting past the first job interview? Or is this your way of saying you don’t want me here anymore?”

“It’s not that…” Five exhaled sharply. “The Academy has electricity, running water, it’s shaping up well. If you wanted to move back in with Diego, give things another shot, I’d get it.”

Lila blinked. “Diego? What the hell gave you that impression?”

“I don’t know,” Five said, a little sharper than intended. “Chatting in a secluded corner? His hands on your stomach?”

Lila let out an amused breath. “We had a decent talk with emotions running less high for once. He said he texted you his number, and I told him I’d rather you two still communicate than directly with me. He was fine with it. Then he asked how big it was.”

That made Five glance at her.

“I did this.” She placed her hands on her belly, mimicking the gesture. “To show him and correcting him that it is now a she. He asked if he could feel, I told him there is nothing to feel from the outside yet but he still wanted to and I didn’t see a problem with it.” She tilted her head. “Well… not a problem for me.”

Five swallowed hard against the nausea climbing up his throat. Maybe he could force it back down. Or maybe—

He rolled over and vomited into the bucket again.

“You gonna pass out again?”

He shook his head.

“Great. I’m getting some sleep.” She stood, grabbing his now-empty glass. A moment later, he heard her in the bathroom, running the tap before she returned and set a fresh glass of water on the nightstand, along with some Tylenol. How was the constant drip, drip, drip from the bathroom’s tap now so loud.

He could see her hesitating, looking to say something else before leaving the room.

“You know,” she said, voice quieter now. “For someone as smart as you, I wouldn’t have thought you’d want to risk it.”

Five frowned. “Risk what?” His voice was hoarse.

“Something like alcohol-induced dementia,” she said bluntly. “Your body’s been through a lot—aging up, aging down, aging up again—but you’ve kept your memories. Your brain has got to be the oldest part of you. Maybe think about that before you do something irreversible.”

She didn’t wait for a response, just turned and left, closing the door with more force than necessary.

Five winced, looking at where she had sat all night. He noted his pillow had been returned, the one he lent her for extra comfort. He grabbed it, placing it on top of his own. For safety he told himself. Positioned slightly upright was safer in case he was sick again. It had nothing to do with that he could smell her scent on the pillow. Nothing at all.

Chapter Text

He said he wouldn’t fall back to sleep, but the pounding in his head and the wave of nausea made getting up feel like a worse idea than staying put.

Maybe she exaggerated. Maybe she did get some sleep, Five hoped. Honestly, he wouldn’t have minded if she’d laid in the bed beside him and grabbed a few hours—better that than sitting up all night watching him like some reluctant nurse.

In past arguments, things weren’t always so black and white. Neither of them liked saying sorry; in fact, the word was rarely uttered. Gestures, though—those came easier. A peace offering, a favour, something to make the tension ease up. This time, it was clear as day: he’d been the one acting like a jealous fool over nothing, and she’d been the one selflessly making sure he didn’t choke to death on his own bad decisions.

Five grabbed his phone and set an alarm for a few hours later. The Tylenol and water needed time to kick in, with sleep doing the rest. He stuffed the phone under his pillow to muffle the alarm—loud enough to wake him, but hopefully not her.

When it buzzed hours later, he shot up and snatched the phone quickly to silence it.

The nausea was less vicious now, but he still felt like hell warmed over. Running a hand through his hair, he got out of bed. He was still in his t-shirt and slacks from the previous day. Grabbing fresh clothes he made his way to the bathroom, taking the bucket with him, tipping the contents down the toilet.

The tap was still dripping. Great. He made a mental note to grab a wrench later and see if tightening it would shut it up.

A shower helped clear some of the fog, and pulling on clean clothes made him feel halfway human again. Downstairs, he got the coffee pot going—grateful Lila was no longer having morning sickness towards the smell. After downing two cups, he headed out.

---

It didn’t take long to end up at the department store, the same one where they’d first shopped when they arrived here. No basket, no wandering—he knew exactly what he was looking for.

Sure enough, on the top floor, there it was. Half his height, banana-shaped, covered in a childish animal design. It looked ridiculous. The label called it a pregnancy pillow, designed to go between a woman’s legs, curl around her bump, and provide support. The picture showed a very pregnant woman looking blissfully comfortable... alone in the bed. Yeah, no wonder there’s no one else pictured beside her. Where would they even fit with this monstrosity? Guess it’s a good thing Lila isn’t sharing a bed with anyone. The pillow also doubled up as a feeding pillow and when the baby was old enough, as something to help prop it up on the floor when learning to sit. It looked like it was something which would serve multiple purposes but the main one keeping her comfortable for now and going forwards.

Five tucked it under one arm and headed for the cashier, but something else caught his eye.

A three-pack of baby grows.

The first was soft pink, covered in tiny strawberries and white strawberry blossoms. The second was pale blue with small daisies. The last was a pastel purple scattered with lilacs.

He checked the sizing: Tiny Baby, Newborn, First Size, 0-3 Months. How does a newborn have four different size options? He shook his head, bemused, and grabbed the 0-3 pack before heading for the register.

---

When Five returned, the house was quiet. He nudged the door shut with his foot and glanced toward the stairs—no sound. She was still asleep. Good.

He dropped the bag onto the sofa. The oversized pillow sticking out looked absurd in the carrier bag. The small pack of baby clothes sat perched on top. He stared at them for a moment. Should he just leave everything there, let her find it, assume it was some kind of unspoken apology? Or was he supposed to hand them over and actually say the words?

He picked up the baby grows, rubbing the soft fabric between his fingers. Maybe this had been a step too far. Surely Lila should have been the one to pick out her kid’s first clothes. Now what?

With a sigh, he dragged a hand over the back of his neck, still holding the clothes in the other. He hesitated—then placed the grows back on top of the pillow and took everything upstairs to his room.

Inside, he opened the bottom drawer of his nightstand—the one still empty—and carefully laid the baby clothes inside. The top drawer was where he kept a few books including the pregnancy book he sometimes read to Lila. He lingered for a second, then closed the drawer gently.

The pillow could wait. He’d give it to her later, closer to bedtime. Quietly, he slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him with barely a sound, and padded back downstairs.

She probably skipped breakfast. He grimaced. Depending on how late they got home, she might’ve skipped dinner too. How did they get home? No taxi driver in their right mind would have taken him in that state. Did he stumble the whole way and just can’t remember it?

In the kitchen, he rummaged through the fridge. Bacon, lettuce, tomato and bread on the side. His cooking skills were still subpar, but a BLT? That was doable. Substantial enough for lunch too.

He moved quietly, careful not to slam any cupboards or rattle plates. The bacon hissed in the pan, filling the kitchen with that unmistakable smell. Five glanced at the clock—midday. She’d probably be up soon.

Once the sandwiches were plated, he wiped down the counters, cleaning away grease spatters and crumbs. As he was drying his hands, he heard footsteps overhead. Had the smell summoned her?

Leaning on the kitchen doorframe, he watched as Lila shuffled into the living room, already dressed but still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Hungry?” Five asked, cautious. He could already tell by the sharpness in her eyes—she was still pissed.

She gave a small nod as she sat down on the sofa, arms crossed, clearly not expecting food anytime soon.

He disappeared into the kitchen, grabbed both plates, and returned. Without a word, he handed her the sandwich before retreating to his usual spot at the table. Five heard the unmistakable crunch of the lettuce followed by, “Could use some mayo…” She mumbled.

Five’s own sandwich was fine to him, juicy enough. Compared to the apocalypse stale food or tinned bread he was used to, this was practically gourmet. Still, he didn’t rise to the bait. He stood, grabbed the mayo from the fridge, and wordlessly returned it to her plate. If she wanted a fight, she wasn’t getting one.

“I’m surprised you’re up and functioning,” she said, voice edged with challenge.

Five exhaled through his nose, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Young body,” he shrugged, tone flat.

“Old mind,” she shot back.

Still on that.

“You were right,” Five admitted. “I got the point.”

“So, can we actually talk about it now?”

He hesitated. Saying no would likely send her back to the cold-shoulder routine. And this time, there was no sarcasm in her voice—she meant it. He took a slow bite, eyes on her now, waiting.

“I think you have a problem,” she said carefully, voice steady and measured. “You joke about it, but if drinking’s your go-to every time something goes sideways—”

“I cut back,” Five interrupted, tone lower. “A lot. But yeah you’re right. It’s my go to. When I first got back and couldn’t find Viktor, thinking we were all still doomed—I drank. In Dallas, there wasn’t enough time to think let alone drink. So when we made it back to 2019, I cheersed the idea it was all over.” He stared at the table. “Then the world decided to end for a third time, and at that point… being sober for it felt pointless.”

“I stayed sober.”

Five’s eyes narrowed. “Because you were pregnant.”

“That had a little bit to do with it but as you said, the world was ending, so it wouldn't have mattered if I had drunk that night with everyone else.” Her tone was quiet.

“So why didn’t you?”

“Maybe I’m an optimist,” she said. “You seemed to have a track record of thinking of answers last minute. Somewhere deep down, I figured there was still a shot.”

His brows knitted. “So why sleep with me if you thought there might be a tomorrow?”

Lila let out a short breath, eyes flicking away. “If there was a tomorrow, drinking could’ve hurt them. But sleeping with you?” Her lips quirked. “Less risk. Plus, I’d just walked in on you and that mannequin. I figured you needed to know what the real thing felt like, you know, just in case it really was the end of the world.”

“So you felt sorry for me,” Five replied, flat and too quick to sound like a question.

Lila stuffed the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth and stood abruptly. “Good news Five, your brain is still working. Overthinking everything, as usual.” She strode to the kitchen, tossing the plate into the sink. “It was the apocalypse. Consider it… friends with benefits, just before we ironed out the rules.” She gave a smirk as she emerged from the kitchen, standing in front of him.

“You considered us friends then?”

“I risked getting stuck in the Stone Age with you. I would consider that friendship or maybe some form of masochism.” She shrugged.

Five chuckled under his breath despite himself. But the mood didn’t last. He caught the way her shoulders stiffened, the humour slipping from her face as quickly as it came.

“Anyway,” she pressed, her voice sharpening a little, “you drinking—it needs to stop.”

He stayed silent, chewing, watching her.

“I know I don’t exactly have the right to ask,” she continued. “Your house, your life... but if I can’t leave before the little one shows up—”

“You don’t want her around a drunk,” he finished quietly.

She nodded, "exactly.” Her hand rested on her stomach. “I had noticed… you weren’t drinking as much,” Lila added after a pause, matching his softer tone.

Five winced, inwardly cursing. He hoped she hadn’t put two and two together. Wouldn’t realise the pattern between his sobriety and the nights they’d ended up in bed together. If she did, she kept it to herself.

“Just a setback,” he murmured. He cleared his plate and took it to the kitchen before joining her again in the middle of the room.

“Thanks for lunch. I’m still tired though, so I’m gonna head back to bed.”

Five nodded, unsure if she was really tired or just wanting space. If she was tired, was now the right time for the pillow? It could help her sleep.

Lila started up the stairs, and Five trailed behind.

“That wasn’t an invitation, Five,” she called over her shoulder.

“I didn’t think it was.”

At the top, as Lila reached for her bedroom door, Five stopped her. “Wait a second.”

He brushed past her, going into his room, and returned holding the bulky pillow. “Here.”

“What the hell is that?” She asked as he handed it over.

“A pregnancy pillow. It’s supposed to make you more comfortable. Especially later on.”

Lila blinked at him. “When does the ruthless Number Five give presents?”

“When he fucks up,” he replied simply.

He watched as she hugged the pillow, testing out it softness and for a brief second, he wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of one of those squeezes.

“You’re going soft, like this pillow,” she teased, a tired smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a 'ruthless' image to maintain.”

Lila carried the pillow into her room while Five turned to head back downstairs.

“Don’t wanna see me test this thing out?” she called after him.

“I don’t think—”

“That was an invitation, Five,” she cut him off.

He turned on his heel, standing in the doorway, watching as Lila wrestled the oversized pillow like it was a deadweight crocodile.

“I think I’m far too hungover for this,” he muttered.

“Good, because the invitation was to see me test it out, not us.”

Five raised a brow but stayed put, arms crossed, as she climbed into bed. The pillow hugged her front and back as she shifted around to get her bump settled just right.

“So what, is this revenge for last night? You just want me to stand here and watch you sleep?”

“Although that sounds tempting… nah. Want to read for a bit? Assuming your head can take it.”

He didn’t need to ask what she wanted to listen to, he already knew. He sighed, his lips giving a brief smile before turning and fetching the book from his drawer. Once in her room he grabbed her spare pillow and propped it against the headboard.

“Didn’t bring your own this time?” she asked, smirking.

“I think you’ve got enough to share now.” Five settled next to her, but instead of opening the book, he rested it on his lap, watching as Lila shot him a sidelong glance.

“Go on, what’s your question.”

“How... did we get home last night?” It was the last bit of the puzzle from yesterday. He knew now that there was nothing going on between her and Diego but he needed reassurance that he didn’t make a further fool of himself and simply couldn’t recall.

“Well, after you brushed me off when I tried to talk to you, I went back to the lounge. Took a walk around, checked out the décor, then sat on the sofa thinking you’d be a while with Luther. Don’t worry,” she added, voice dry, “I wasn’t lonely. I had company.”

The nagging question hit Five immediately. Did Diego stay with her? Worse, did he help him home?

“Viktor didn’t make a second appearance after your little chat. Whatever that was about. Klaus came over instead, talking my ear off about all strange ways a person can die. Like, did you know drinking four litres of water too fast could kill you? I mean, who the hell does that and who has drunk that much to find out?”

Five recognised the stall tactic. She was circling before delivering the real answer. If she was trying to make him stress, it was working but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of showing it. He could be patient.

“Luther called me up when you blacked out,” she finally said. “Apparently you were rambling before you just keeled over. Luckily you were already sitting on the floor, so no major damage.”

Rambling? Rambling about what?

“If I was out cold,” he said slowly, “then I didn’t exactly make it home under my own steam.”

Lila grinned looking way to amused with whatever picture conjured in her head. “Luther carried you. Threw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Klaus was going to help until you started sounding like you were about to hurl so he bailed.” She paused. “Diego, meanwhile, was mostly pissed you drank his good tequila.”

Luther. Relief mingled with humiliation. Carried home like a drunk kid. Five kept his expression neutral as he ignored her last bit of the story. He reached for the book, eager for this to be the end of the conversation. However, she wasn’t finished.

“You know, while I was wandering around, I noticed they had whiskey, bourbon, vodka... but you picked tequila.”

“Just fancied it,” he muttered.

“Right.” Lila arched a brow. “You could’ve just asked, you know.”

“Asked what.”

“To have copped a feel of my belly,” she replied, deadpan. “I’m naked around you most days and you—”

Five cut in sharply, “You said it yourself earlier. There’s nothing to feel yet.”

Lila scoffed. “Right. So it’s filed under unnecessary touching for you, huh?”

He swallowed, hard. “Exactly.”

For a fleeting second, he saw it—disappointment flashing across her face. She closed her eyes, looking like she was just going to attempt to go to sleep there and then. Was she now trying to end the conversation?

“Tell me then… when there is something to feel,” Five said quietly, the words barely above a whisper. It surprised him how much it sounded like a plea.

Lila’s eyes opened again but didn’t search for his, instead she looked off at the wall. Mercifully she kept her reply light. “Sure. When she’s ready to burst out like something from 'Alien', I’ll let you know.”

Five chuckled, and it earned him a turn of her head. A half smile showed, maybe they were both grateful that the humour finally cut through the tension.

“What do you want to hear about today?” He asked, flipping open the book and flicking through the pages.

“You pick. Doubt I’ll be awake long.”

Five found the chapter on bullet point facts of the babies developments at 20 weeks are and began reading softly.

“The baby’s skin is covered in a white, greasy substance called vernix, which protects their skin in the amniotic fluid. Nails and fingerprints are forming. Muscles are growing, and the baby is developing a layer of fat to help regulate body temperature after birth. The baby is also developing permanent teeth underneath their baby teeth—”

Five paused, frowning at the medical diagram on the page: a child’s skull, eerie with rows of adult teeth hidden beneath the surface like something out of a horror film.

Turning the page, he glanced over—and, sure enough, Lila was already fast asleep, cocooned in the pillow like she’d never been mad at all. He hesitated for a beat, then turned back to the book, pretending he hadn’t noticed. His voice stayed steady as he read aloud to no one, just for the sake of it.

She wouldn’t sleep long—not if she wanted to sleep tonight. That would be his excuse, why he stayed. He was just making sure she didn’t oversleep. Watching out for her the way she had seemed to be doing so for him.

She's been watching out me. He repeated to himself, letting the thought linger. 

And with it, he made a silent promise: he was done drinking.

The world could end tomorrow, his siblings could do something idiotic and/or catastrophic, whatever it was going to be, he would be sober for it.

Chapter Text

The pillow, it turned out, was good for more than just sleep.

Neither of them would call it make-up sex. It would never be given a name—but once Five was no longer nursing his hangover and Lila had recovered from the night with no sleep, she invited him back into her room the next night. This time, for both of them to test it out properly.

“Look,” she said, already sprawled on the bed and completely bare, her skin flushed slightly from the heat of the shower she had finished. The pillow was linked into a donut shape and she’d settled herself on top of it. Her bump rested comfortably in the hollowed centre, while the raised edges elevated her hips and ass perfectly, putting her on display.

Five lingered at the edge of the bed, still drinking in the sight. Wet strands of her hair—now black roots down to her ears and platinum for the rest—clung to her neck and shoulders. She was grinning, arms folded beneath her head like this was all casual. But there was nothing casual about how she looked. The pillow lifted her ribs just enough that her plump breasts hung, her nipples brushing the bed-sheets.

Five couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, the dimple on his left cheek deepening. “Looking good,” he said, voice low. He started to strip down, forcing himself to have a break from staring.

“You did pick it out,” Lila teased.

He didn’t bother clarifying that he hadn’t meant the pillow.

Crossing to the bed, he crawled up behind her, hands immediately finding the backs of her calves, trailing upwards with purpose. Was this unnecessary touching? Technically yes but the way his fingers squeezed and kneaded on the way up, it coaxed soft sighs from her lips. That made it essential. His hand spread on her thighs, thumbs running on the inside of them, working higher until he cupped her ass, spreading her just slightly as his eyes lingered on the way her folds glistened.

She shifted minutely under his touch, hips tilting, seeking more.

He leaned in, close enough that his breath fanned across the sensitive skin of her lower back. His voice came out rougher now “This,” he murmured, “looks like it’s going to be a good investment.”

Lila let out a soft, breathy laugh, but it melted into a sound closer to a moan when Five’s fingers ghosted up over her labia teasingly.

“Got a lesson for me today? Although I think ‘how to utilise this pillow’ is pretty damn obvious, but I’m open to suggestions.” His fingers continued to flicker over her core whilst his eyes roamed over her.

“Do what you want, Five. Your instincts haven’t led you too astray.” She grinned into her arms.

“Too astray?”

“Well, socks for a start.”

“Oh, shut up.” He wasn’t annoyed, it was a joke she made often and it was just that, a joke. His reverse-uno was how quickly he could silence her. He half wondered if she did it on purpose, knowing that his reaction was to try and cause some form of pleasure to stop her from teasing further.

He dipped forward and dragged his tongue in one long slow stroke, from her clit up to her entrance, savouring the taste. He heard the small muffled gasp, and assumed she had likely bitten into her arm to stifle it. His lips curved slightly against her as he doubled down, hands sliding beneath her thighs to lift her that little bit more, angling her just where he wanted.

His tongue stayed broad and firm, painting her with wide, unhurried strokes, dipping in and out of her. He kept steady, deliberate, until the sharp intake of her breath and the tremble in her legs told him she was starting to climb.

Instead of dragging it out, he switched tactics. Small, rapid flicks against her clit made her whimper, each breath shorter and sharper than the last. Her thighs threatened to clench around his head, but he held her steady.

Just when he felt her body teetering close to the edge, he pulled back, ignoring the faint groan of protest muffled against her arm. He licked two fingers before easing them inside her, letting them glide in at a torturously slow pace.

“Five…” she warned, voice breathless.

He smirked, curling his fingers as she rocked backwards onto them.

“Thought you said I should follow my instincts.” His voice had that cocky edge to it that he knew pissed her off.

Pulling his fingers out, he used the slickness coating them to stroke along his erection, spreading her arousal over himself. Then, he slid the same two fingers back inside her, pumping them steadily in and out, watching her hips twitch under his grip. He repeated it, dragging them out, pressing them against the head of his cock again, mixing her wetness with his own anticipation.

“Damn Five,” she bit out, frustrated and breathless. “Be consistent.”

He chuckled low, relishing the desperation in her tone but her need pushed him to act. He lined himself up behind her and pressed in slowly, gently. He guided her higher onto her knees, pushing deeper until he bottomed out, buried fully. Then, just as deliberately, he let her settle back down, pillowed perfectly by the cushion.

The angle was good. He realised quickly just how close this let him be. His chest pressed flush against her back as he let his full weight sink over her momentarily. His hands slid beneath her body, forearms crossing naturally under her ribs as he cupped both breasts in his palms. He could’ve avoided crossing them—but he didn’t. He liked the way it pulled him in tighter. It would make thrusting easier and could help take back some of his weight, he told himself. The fact it allowed him to bury his face against her damp hair and hold her—as always—had nothing to do with anything.

His fingers rolled her nipples between them, feeling them stiffen under his touch. Her breasts felt full, heavy in his hands. Every movement was calculated, a slow build. His hips rocked against her, each thrust deep and controlled. He pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the head seated inside her before pushing forward again, feeling how she purposefully clenched at him on his way back in.

He had become confident over the last couple of months. To Lila’s credit, this was exactly what she said this arrangement would give him. Always open to what she had to say and always eager to please.

He noticed the shift right away—Lila’s hand snaking beneath her, fingers attempting to slide between her and the pillow. Five’s reflexes were faster. He released one breast to snatch her wrist mid-motion and pinned it back up by her side. Then, with a firm grip, he took her other wrist too, locking both in place.

“Oi, what the fuck?” she snapped, twisting her neck just enough to glare at him over her shoulder.

“No hands,” he said firmly, voice low and resolute. “Not yet.”

“Why the hell not?” Her glare softened as Five dipped down getting close to her ear.

“I want to try to get you there myself,” he thrusted for good measure, trying to prove a point. “Let me.”

She huffed but relented. “Fine. Pick up the pace then.”

Five didn’t need telling twice. His hips began driving faster. He listened carefully to every breath and sound she gave him. The sharper gasps, the ragged moans—but there was something missing. No tremble. No involuntary quake that told him she was tipping over the edge.

He shifted his angle, letting go of her wrists, moving his hands back to her breasts, kneading and pinching, trying to wring more out of her. Her moans pitched higher but accompanied with frustrated groans, the edge still eluding her. He could feel it in her body, the tension that wasn’t ready to snap.

“Fine,” he growled, irritated but highly aware he wasn’t going to last much longer.  

Lila’s hand slipped back down beneath her, to his surprise, instead of going straight to her clit, she cupped his balls first. As she massaged them gently, he slowed his thrusts, enjoying it for a moment before picking back up the speed as her fingers returned to herself. He felt her tighten around him.

And then—there it was.

The unmistakable shudder. The tremble starting deep in her core, radiating out through her thighs, her back, the sharp, staccato breaths as she got herself right to the brink.

Without missing a beat, Five sank fully against her again, returning to that close, intimate position. Arms crossed across her ribs, his fingers resumed their teasing of her nipples as he pressed himself tighter against her body, thrusts deepening, losing a bit of that earlier control.

Their breathing synced, ragged and needy.

And then together—they unravelled. Lila tensed under him, crying out against her arm, while Five groaned low against her neck, the climax hitting them both like a slow, pulsing wave that neither of them fought.

Five’s hands slid to her hips, steadying himself as he pulled out with careful restraint. The soft whimper she let out at the loss of connection made something in his chest tighten.

Panting, he flopped onto the other side of the bed, resting on his back as he stole glances at her, whilst her eyes were still closed.

“You okay?” he asked, voice still gravelly.

“Yeah,” she breathed out, wiping damp hair from her face. “Just... didn’t think this through. Should’ve grabbed a towel.”

Five grunted softly, catching his breath for another second before dragging himself off the bed and into the bathroom. He returned a minute later with a towel, handing it over.

“Here.”

Lila took it, bundling it between her legs as she carefully rolled off the pillow, managing to avoid leaving a mess. The pillow discarded to the floor as she turned over.

Five sat back down on the edge of the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Lila asked, catching his expression.

“Nothing.”

She gave him that look, the one that made it clear he wasn’t fooling her.

He sighed. “I just thought by now... I’d be able to finish you off without you needing to assist.” His brow furrowed as he stared down at his hands, flexing them idly. “What am I not getting right?”

Lila’s smile softened, more fond than teasing. “Five, you know most women can’t finish just from penetration, right?”

He made a noncommittal hum, clearly not thrilled with that fact. His pride getting the better of him.

After a pause, he flicked his gaze to her. “...Have you ever been able to with anyone else?”

Lila arched a brow, giving a small smile which didn’t seem to give an answer either way. “You really want the answer to that?”

Five exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Probably not.” He ran a hand through his hair and stood. “I’m going to hit the shower before bed. See you in the morning.”

Without waiting for a response, he left the room, heading straight for the bathroom.

The shower was a simple walk-in, separated from the rest of the space by a single pane of glass meant to keep the water contained. He twisted the faucet on, letting it heat up. He laid out a floor towel and then quickly brushed his teeth watching as the water dropped steadily from the tap.

Tomorrow, tighten it tomorrow.

Just as he spat out the toothpaste, the door opened, and Lila came in. Personal space be damned.

“Hey, let me jump in for a sec,” she said casually.

Five shot her an unimpressed look through the mirror. “Can’t you wait?”

“I just need to wash my bits! I’ll be thirty seconds, then you can have the shower to yourself for moping.”

“I’m not—” He stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just go in.”

The telltale sound of feet slapping against wet tile made him turn just in time to hear the sharp squeak of skin losing traction as she turned under the water. Before he could even think, his body moved on instinct. He lunged forward, throwing himself into the shower, hands slamming against the tiles as he caught Lila under her arms, stopping her fall just in time.

Her arms were locked around his neck, her head pressed firmly into his chest. He knew she could feel it—how hard and fast his heart pounded, how his fingers trembled in spasms against the tiles. The spray from the shower now soaked them both, but neither moved, both waiting for the adrenaline to settle, breathing ragged.

A fall like that would’ve sent her straight to the hospital. His hands curled into fists.

He felt it then—the way her grip around his neck loosened slightly, but she didn’t let go. His hands left the wall, wrapping around her, firm, steady, anchoring her.

Lila was the first to pull back, looking up at him. Their faces were close, their breath mingling. Those dark brown eyes of hers seemed even darker, her pupils were blown. He could hear, feel, how heavy her breathing still was, feel it against his neck. His own chest rose and fell just as unsteadily.

“We are buying a shower mat.” He mumbled out but his eyes didn’t leave hers.

It was adrenaline. Closeness. Proximity. What they had just been doing before. Her eyes were dilated from fight or flight, not from anything else. He continued to stare.

Move away.

Five loosened one arm from around her, keeping the other in place as he reached up, grabbing the showerhead and pulling it down. Lila finally let go, taking it from him without a word as she quickly rinsed off.

But Five didn’t leave, couldn't, wouldn't look away.

He watched her, unmoving, as she ran the water over her skin, washing away the remnants of their night. When she finished and placed the showerhead back in its holder, he extended an arm, offering silent stability as she stepped carefully out of the shower.

She didn’t question it as he led her toward the towel he had already laid on the floor, making sure she was steady before letting go.

He moved back into the shower, suddenly it being warm felt strange, he turned the dial to cold as he heard the door behind him close.

Chapter Text

The next morning Klaus texted Five, letting him know that Allison was due to arrive at The Academy around 1:00 PM.

When Five casually asked if Lila wanted to come along again, she nodded—but there was a slight hesitation. Like she was holding something back. He didn’t push it though. Maybe it had to do with seeing Diego again. Or maybe it was because the last time they were at the Academy, he had gotten absolutely smashed.

Either way, he had no intention of drinking today.

So when they all sat around the coffee table in the sitting room and someone had already poured drinks for everyone except Lila, Five just stared.

"Whiskey," Diego said flatly. "Someone already drank the tequila."

“Tequila is a lets party drink anyway! Whiskey is what we want to sit and dull the edges, right Five?”

Five wasn’t sure what annoyed him more, that there was a drink staring back at him or that Klaus was calling upon his expertise. His gaze lingered on the amber liquid.

The fact that drinks had been preemptively poured meant everyone was expecting this to go sideways. And judging by the way Viktor was already on at least his second glass, Five had a strong suspicion who had done the pouring.

"I'm good," he said, crossing his leg over the other and deliberately avoiding eye contact. Instead, he smoothed out the fabric of his jeans.

Lila had settled beside him on the three-seater. It wasn’t a huge couch, so when her knee knocked against his, he assumed it was just an accident or maybe she was shifting away from Diego, who had taken the seat next to her.

"Since when do you not drink at every given opportunity?" Diego asked.

"Don't try to be perceptive, Diego. It doesn’t suit you," Five grumbled, focusing on a non-existent thread in his jeans. This time, he was sure he felt another brush against his knee.

"It’s not like it’ll go to waste here!" Klaus chimed in, reaching across the table to claim the abandoned drink.

But before he could, Viktor swiped the glass from his gloved hand and downed it in one go.

"Hey!" Klaus protested.

"You’re the one who said, ‘The rate of alcohol-specific deaths for men is 22.3 per 100,000 population.’" Viktor countered, setting the empty glass back down with a clink.

"Right, but red wine in Europe helps people live longer!"

"In moderation," Luther cut in, arms crossed. "And the way you drink isn’t moderation."

"Besides," Viktor added, now picking up his own drink, "this isn’t wine."

Klaus rolled his eyes picking up his own drink from the table and slumping back into the middle of the opposite three-seater. Beside him, Luther looked uneasy—understandable, considering today might be the day he finally gets answers about what happened to his wife. Five was half-surprised Luther wasn’t knocking them back just as fast as Viktor.

The room settled into silence again, but Five caught Diego’s voice as he spoke to Lila.

"How you feeling?" His tone was quieter than usual.

"Tired, mostly."

"Good practice, I guess."

Five couldn’t help rolling his eyes, half-expecting Lila to fire back with something sharp. He shifted in his spot slightly, letting his knee rest lightly over hers briefly.

"I’m very sure that’s not how it works, Diego," Lila said—not as biting as he’d expected. Maybe she was trying to de-escalate things, considering how tense today was bound to be. Five felt her shift beside him, her arm moving. The little one had likely woken up or maybe it was just a muscle cramp. Either way, he wasn’t going to look.

"Oh, is she moving?"

Another shift on the sofa and Diego’s words this time caused Five to look, just in time to see Diego’s hand replacing Lila’s on her bump. Five caught Lila’s hand bundle into a fist. If she was going to hit Diego, he wanted out of the way and if he was just going to settle there, he simply wanted out.

Feeling his jaw tightening, he stood up slowly, acting like his knees were as old as he felt. "Getting a drink."

"You’re going the wrong way! All the liquor is up here." Klaus called after him.

"Coffee," Five muttered, already heading for the door.

Footsteps followed.

"I want one too," Lila said.

Five didn’t acknowledge her as he heard Diego grumble from back in the sitting room, "Anyone else notice how those two always disappear off together, or is it just me?"

If anyone had a response, Five didn’t hear it. He was already taking the steps down into the kitchen.

"I am actually getting coffee," Five said once they were alone, picking up the coffee pot and giving it a pointed wave. "You don’t have to check on me."

"I believe you." Lila’s voice was quieter now. "I just needed an excuse."

Five turned, giving her a measured look before refocusing on his search. If there was coffee in this house, no one had put it in a sensible place. After the third cupboard, he slammed it shut with a little more force than necessary.

"If you don’t want people to touch you, just don’t let them," he said bluntly, already giving up on the idea that coffee even existed here.

"It’s not that simple for everyone," Lila countered, stepping over to help look.

She crouched down, opening a low cupboard—one Five would’ve assumed was for pots and pans. But no, this was where the pantry goods were: pasta, rice, lentils, and the damn coffee.

"Of course it is," Five said, irritated. "Push them off. Say no. You have a loud, annoying voice—use it."

He had no right to sound annoyed, especially when she was the one who’d looked uncomfortable. But somehow, seeing her like that made him more irritated.

"It’s not always that easy, Five." Lila’s voice had an edge now. "You were touch-starved."

His eye twitched. He took a breath, trying not to react as he grabbed the can of coffee and started filling the filter.

"So?" His voice was level, but there was a challenge behind it. "Shouldn’t that actually mean I’d want it?"

"Maybe." Lila shrugged. "I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours." There was still fire in her tone—but then, just as suddenly, it burned out. "...But I wasn’t."

Five frowned, the tension in his jaw easing just slightly.

"So… because it was the opposite for you, you don’t actually say no?" He thought back—how awkward she’d been at the motel. The way she avoided talking about previous Commission partners. How she shut down certain conversations fast.

Lila exhaled through her nose. "More like fight, flight, or freeze kicks in." She sat on the table instead of taking a seat. "I was in freeze. You moving let me get into flight."

Five leaned against the counter. Was that why she was always so quick to hit Diego? Whenever something annoyed her it wasn’t just annoyance, it triggered her into a response. Her default being fight but maybe now she was pregnant it had changed? His voice was quieter now, just in case anyone walked in. "Have you ever felt like that with me?"

Lila shook her head. "No... Besides, I think I’ve initiated most of it. If not all."

Five thought about that.

How did a normal couple initiate sex? Someone would be in the mood, they’d cuddle, kiss their partner, see if it escalated naturally. Physical signals.

But them?

Everything was verbal. No lingering touches so nothing that would have set something off in her.

Was it deliberate? But it had been his rule. Maybe though, that’s why she never pushed it.

"I’ll speak to Diego," Five said suddenly.

Lila raised a brow. "And say what?"

"How about, ‘Don’t touch a pregnant woman’s bump without being invited’?"

She huffed. "He already thinks something’s going on between us. You get all protective like that, and he’ll double down on it."

"We all do things to avoid feeling like you just felt. Mine’s a nightlight. Checking inventory. Reading and the news. Drinking."

"You’re getting better with all of those, though." She gave him the smallest smile.

The coffee machine clicked off. Five grabbed two mugs from the draining board and poured out two cups. Sugar was mercifully in a normal place, so he scooped in two spoonful’s before putting in the milk for Lila. His mind still whirring over what to say next.

Finally, he walked over, handing her the cup by the handle. "That stuff will get easer too. With the right partner."

Lila reached for it with both hands—one gripping the handle, the other resting briefly over Five’s.

The heat of the cup made him retreat first. He waved his hand and flexed his fingers, maybe making more of a show of it than necessary. Then he grabbed his own mug and blew on it before turning away.

"Shall we go watch the soap opera?"

Lila grinned. "Best not to miss the drama."

She hopped off the table, ready to follow him back.

As they climbed the stairs, the sound of raised voices drifted down the hall. Five sighed, rolling his eyes, while Lila’s grin stretched wider. She was clearly relishing the chaos brewing ahead.

“Good to see they allowed some breathing room before jumping down Allison’s throat,” Five muttered under his breath.

Luther’s voice boomed down the corridor. “Where is Sloane?”

“She’s not here.” Allison’s response was quiet but firm, carrying an edge of regret.

Luther’s frustration hit immediately. “Why the hell not?! You managed to bring Claire back, you even dragged Ray from a whole different time period—how the hell isn’t she here?”

“When I first made the deal with Reginald, she wasn’t on the list. I only thought about you lot—my family. I had no idea Reginald needed you to stand on those stars to power the machine.”

Luther’s breathing was heavy, his voice laced with desperate hope. “Fine. Whatever. So she won’t know who I am, but she still exists here, right? I just need to find her.”

Allison voice wavered. “No… she doesn’t.”

Luther’s voice cracked. “I-I don't understand."

“The Marigold was never released in this reset,” Allison admitted.

There was a beat of silence. Then, softer, almost disbelieving, Luther echoed, “She was never born.”

Five and Lila crossed the Academy’s foyer just in time to hear Diego cut in. “So we don’t have our powers because there’s no Marigold here?”

“No,” Allison corrected, “it’s because the machine needed the Marigold to power itself.”

Five’s arm shot out in front of Lila, halting her steps. Before she could protest, he grabbed her by the arm and tugged her out of sight, pressing both of them against the wall beside the doorway. He lifted a finger to his lips, signalling for silence.

Lila’s brows shot up, but she gave him a small nod, her expression shifting to something more serious.

Inside, Diego’s voice rose. “Which conveniently you didn’t have to stand on!”

Klaus chimed in without missing a beat. “You still have your powers!”

Lila mouthed to Five, ‘Oh, shit.’

Five’s gaze flicked to the drinks cabinet inside the room. The mirrored back wasn’t perfect, but it offered enough of a reflection to let him see the others without stepping into view.

“Look, I came back to try and explain everything,” Allison said, her tone bordering on defensive. “I didn’t want you, Luther, searching forever.”

“Oh, how fucking courteous of you,” Luther snapped. “If you’d just added her to your damn wish list, she would have been here!”

Allison exhaled sharply, then turned to Viktor instead. “Harlan. Harlan will exist here. He wasn’t created because of the Marigold.”

Viktor’s jaw tensed, but before he could respond, Allison had already shifted her attention to Diego. “That weird kid who was following you around—”

“Stan,” Diego filled in, his expression guarded.

“Right. He’ll be alive. He was what, ten? So forty now, probably living wherever Lila picked him up from.”

She turned to Klaus next. “And our mothers—they won’t know who we are, but they’ll still be alive, Klaus.”

Klaus let out a dry, humourless laugh. “Oh great. What good is that? ‘Hi, Mom, you never gave birth to me or anything, but I’m your kid!’” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“All these people don’t mean anything to us here.” Viktor’s voice cut through the room. He turned on Allison. “Luther was the only one who had someone who mattered. Other than you and once again you were just a selfish bitch.”

Allison’s expression hardened. “There wasn’t much time to iron out all the details, if you hadn’t noticed—the world was collapsing in on itself!”

Diego wasn’t letting it go. “Let’s circle back. You have your powers, yes or no, Allison? Have we lost everything while you gained everything? Is this just some shitty revenge for what happened over the last few years?”

Allison hesitated. “I haven’t used them since I’ve been here.”

“Yes or no?!” Diego pressed.

“Yes.”

Silence hung heavy in the air.

“Fucking unbelievable,” Viktor muttered, shaking his head as he moved to leave. Allison stepped in his path.

“Why did you bother coming back?” he demanded.

“I wanted to explain. To make things better.”

“For who? To clear your guilty conscience? There’s no making this better,” Viktor snapped. “Fuck off back to your perfect life.”

Allison swallowed, then straightened her spine. “Clearly, coming here was a mistake. But I can make one thing better.” She turned to Luther. Her voice was cold, steady.

“I heard a rumour… that you all forgot Sloane existed and I never showed up.”

Five’s hand went to Lila’s back gave her a small push, leading her back down the hall in quick, silent steps toward the stairs leading to the kitchen.

They didn’t have much time.

Either they had to hide—or, if Allison already knew they were here, they had to act like they hadn’t heard a damn thing.

“What’s the plan?” Lila’s voice was hushed as they stood halfway on the stairs.

"I think she knows we were here," Five murmured back, eyes flicking toward the landing above. "Hold your coffee, make it seem like we just went to grab some. She’s going to want to leave fast, but we don’t want her thinking we eavesdropped. Now, c’mon."

Keeping their voices low, they climbed the stairs, and as they neared the top, Lila suddenly spoke up, her voice loud and casual.

"So that’s how I used the briefcase to get back in time before anyone even noticed I was missing!"

It was a good cover—just vague enough to sound like the tail end of a real conversation to anyone listening in.

"Right," Five replied feigning annoyance. "And that’s exactly why it was a good thing our paths never crossed beforehand. The Commission handbook had some valid points—no joyriding through time was definitely one of them—"

He was mid-sentence when he nearly collided with Allison at the top of the stairs, pulling a quick, exaggerated motion to keep from spilling his coffee.

"Shit, sorry. Didn’t realise you were here already. How was your flight?"

Allison barely reacted to the near collision, her expression tight. "Fine, but I just got a call from home—some kind of emergency with Claire and her school."

“Huh, you’re not going to get back in time for that.” Lila pointed out as Five turned to shoot her a look of mild disbelief that she would try to encourage her to stay but he supposed playing along with the act was smarter.

"No, but I can be there for the aftermath," Allison replied smoothly. "I just came down to grab some water. I haven’t seen the others yet."

"Don’t want to do a quick ‘hi-bye’ with them?" Lila asked, her tone innocent but just a little too curious.

Five clenched his jaw. She was pushing it.

Allison paused for a moment before answering. "They’d have too many questions for that. Might be best if I just sneak out. In fact, I’ll just grab some water at the airport." She took a step back toward the door.

Five watched her carefully. Her acting was good, but her wording was off. She could probably see it in their eyes—neither of them were buying it. But if there was one thing both Five and Lila excelled at, it was pretending they didn’t care.

"No problem," he said. "I’ll let them know you had a thing."

"An emergency," she corrected, voice firm. "And no, don’t worry about it. I’ll text them and just say I couldn’t come. Better than them knowing I showed up and turned right back around."

"Guess you could say your flight was cancelled," Lila offered.

Before Allison could respond, noise erupted from the other room—voices, movement. Her window to slip out was closing fast. Five saw her stiffen.

"Go on," he urged. "Before anyone comes out."

Allison hesitated again. "Why are you so okay with me just walking straight out?"

"Because we can keep secrets." Lila shrugged. And just like that, something shifted.

The trust in the Hargreeves family was never mutual.

Allison opened her mouth and started “I heard a rumo-” but before she could finish, Five struck.

A swift punch to the throat.

Allison stumbled back, gasping as she clutched at her neck. Five’s expression was unreadable, his voice quiet but ice-cold. "Not a chance."

Still coughing, Allison turned, her footsteps uneven as she hurried toward the door.

Five sighed and looked down—coffee dribbled down his hand, splattered on the floor from the sudden movement.

"Ugh." He drained what was left in his cup. Lila stepped forward, plucking the empty drink from his hand.

"Go join the others. I’ll mop this up."

A slow sigh escaped his lips, but he needed to check on the state of his siblings—and he still wanted to talk to Diego.

"Okay. Thanks." He wiped his damp hand on the back of his jeans before heading into the other room.

As he entered, the atmosphere felt…off. A little dazed, a little unfocused. Luther’s phone buzzed.

"Oh, it’s Allison," Luther announced. "Her flight was cancelled. She says she’ll have to visit another time." His disappointment was mild but genuine.

Five scanned the room. There was an odd undercurrent of confusion—except for Viktor, who looked almost relieved. Guess that meant his plans to leave town were on hold.

"How did Allison get your number, Luther?" Five asked, curious.

Luther shrugged. "She wrote a letter here. I guess she figured at least one of us would have ended up here. I wrote back and gave her my number."

It made sense—more sense than the way everyone in the room was acting.

Klaus sat on the sofa, blinking far too hard. Five recognised that look. When time shifted—whether it was a wipe, a rewind, or something slipping out of sync—it left a person feeling disoriented.

The others didn’t seem to notice it, but Five did. A ten-minute gap wouldn’t do much damage—just a lingering sense of déjà vu, a fleeting confusion. Nothing anyone would question in a few minutes time.

Five turned to Diego. "Well, if that’s the case that Allison isn’t coming—thanks for the coffee, but I think we’ll take our leave." He paused. "A word before we go?"

Five kept his voice even, but there was no mistaking the sharp edge beneath it. He had debated whether this was the right time—considering the rumouring that had just occurred but he also wasn’t sure when the next time he would get to speak to him was.

Diego groaned slightly whilst pushing himself up from the couch. "Vale, Cinco," he muttered, rubbing his face before following Five into the hallway.

Five looked over at the floor, the spillage was gone but Lila wasn’t back yet, so Five didn’t bother leading Diego far—this wasn’t going to be some long, drawn-out conversation. Just a quick correction. A boundary. Still, he kept his voice soft.

"I get that that’s your baby in there, but maybe ask before you start rubbing the belly like some kind of wishing lamp."

Diego blinked, the words taking a second to register. Then his brows furrowed. "What the fuck, Five? If Lila isn’t okay with it, she can say something."

"She has," Five countered without a pause. "To me. I’m saying something to you."

Diego scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Bullshit. Whatever jealous act you’ve got going on is starting to piss me off. You two keep saying you’re not together, but you’re always off whispering to each other, playing house, and now you’re talking on her behalf? What gives?"

"Nothing gives," Five said, his tone clipped. "We’re not together, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tell you when you’re overstepping."

Diego let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Jeez, Five, you’re making me sound like a damn predator."

Five's mouth twitched, his patience running thin. "Just ask before you touch someone, Diego. Pide permiso antes de tocar a alguien. ¿Comprendes?"

Diego rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure. And what about you, huh? You rubbing her belly every night in secret? You got some weird pregnancy fetish now?"

Five’s jaw tightened. He stepped forward, tilting his chin up to meet Diego’s gaze directly.

"I don’t have a pregnancy fetish," he said, voice cold and unshaken. "And I haven’t touched her belly. Not once."

Diego studied him, like he was looking for a crack in the statement, some proof that Five was full of shit. But something Five had been known for since he was a child, he didn’t lie.

After a long moment, Diego exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. Whatever. I’ll ask next time. Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Five deadpanned, his expression unreadable. Then, with a smirk, he added, "Go out and get laid or something. Maybe that’ll curb your grabby hands. Just—use protection this time, yeah?"

He turned, intending to head toward the living room to say his goodbyes, but Diego’s voice cut through the air, stopping him in his tracks.

"And what about you?" Diego asked, arms crossed, his tone laced with something between curiosity and challenge.

Five turned back, brow raised. "Excuse me?"

As he glanced past Diego, Five saw Lila re-emerging from downstairs, her gaze flicking between them.

"To be honest, Five, I don’t get it," Diego continued, oblivious to Lila’s return. "Living with someone hot like that and not trying to bang her. What are you, asexual or something?"

Five let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. "The fact that your words are ‘living with someone hot’ instead of calling her intelligent or literally anything else shows just how limited your brain is," he shot back. "I recall you saying something just as idiotic about your first girlfriend."

Diego smirked. "So you are saying she has sex appeal."

"I'm not blind, Diego," Five scoffed, mild irritation creeping into his voice, feeling the urge to try and defend her. "But there’s more to a person than just that. Maybe if you realised that, you’d have had a meaningful conversation in your life instead of just thinking with your dick."

Diego let out a low chuckle. "Honestly, you still sound like a jealous boy."

Five could feel the retort bubbling up, something biting, something to shut him up—the temptation to tell him that the joke was on him, because he could sleep with her whenever he wanted.

"Can we go?" Lila asked as Five watched his brother look slightly embarrassed.

Good timing. Go before saying something which belittles his point, something stupid.

"Yeah," Five replied, smoothly sidestepping Diego as he strode toward the front door. He pulled it open for Lila, who didn’t waste any time stepping out, her pace just shy of an outright scurry.

With one last glance at Diego, Five followed after her, letting the door shut behind them.

Once outside and slightly down the road, Five felt Lila snake her arm through his, linking them together.

"You're not even waddling yet. You don't need me for support." He muttered.

"Who said it’s for support?"

Five glanced over at her, but her eyes stayed fixed ahead, her arm still comfortably wrapped around his. A few steps later, he felt the added weight of her head resting gently against his shoulder.

"Thanks, Five."

He tilted his head, looking at her for a beat before turning his gaze away. It was hard to know exactly why she was thanking him. She could have meant it for any number of reasons: for not letting her get rumoured, for telling Diego to back off, or maybe even for simply walking away when she asked.

But selfishly, he hoped it was because he’d stood up for her when Diego had simply objectified her, saying she was more than that.

Chapter Text

Dreams were always strange for Five. During the apocalypse, he dreamt of home. No matter how old he truly was, in his dreams, he was always a child again.

Sometimes reality bled into them in cruel, distorted ways. He’d sit around the breakfast table with his family, watching them eat rotten, maggot-ridden food without hesitation. Other times, he'd be surrounded by his siblings, laughter echoing around him—until the dream twisted, curdled. One moment, they were alive, the next, he was watching their bodies decompose before his eyes. He couldn’t remember their voices anymore, but his mind had no problem conjuring the sound of their bloodcurdling screams.

Those nightmares were horrific, but the worst were sometimes the simplest.

Trapped in Reginald’s office. The same words spilling from his mouth, looping like a broken record.

Stupid. Foolish. Disappointment. Childish.

The door handle wouldn’t turn. He couldn’t blink.

As awful as they were, Five forced himself back then to write them down in his dream journal. He didn’t want to forget his family’s faces. He’d describe them in as much detail as possible, but over the years, their features blurred, their expressions faded into something unrecognisable.

Since coming back, the dreams changed. Now, he no longer dreamed of home.

Now, he dreamed of the apocalypse.

Alone. Cold. Hungry. Desperate.

He would wake up and immediately check his notebook, making sure whatever he had been searching for in his dream was in the house—already accounted for.

Every now and then, Dolores appeared. Those dreams were almost sweet. He’d tell her everything, how things had changed, how he was home. He didn’t mind those.

When he woke, he’d simply mark the date in his notebook to remember he had thought of her. Underneath, he’d write: Ti amo tantissimo.

But recently, those dreams had started to shift. More and more, he told her about Lila. To start with she seemed to have no comment but the last few times it felt like a mistake. Dolores’ voice stayed warm, but something in her words twisted. She told him to forget her. To move on.

Five asked, “Move on to what?”

She never answered.

When that happened, he wrote something different in his pad under the date. Ma ti amo ancora.

Those dreams were coming almost every night now. Like some dark twisted sitcom—same ending, just a slightly altered storyline each time. His subconscious needed to fuck off.

Tonight, however, it wasn’t his own thumping heart that woke him.

It was a scream.

At first, he thought it was just another fragment of his dream—until he heard the sobs. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs.

He got up and knocked on Lila’s door.

She didn’t tell him to go away. Didn’t say to come in, either. But she didn’t say anything at all, and he took the silence as an invitation.

Inside, the darkness swallowed him whole. His eyes were still adjusting from the light of his room, and for a brief moment, disoriented and blind, he wondered if he was even awake. If something was about to lunge at him from the shadows.

He waited, let his vision adjust, then found the bed and climbed on. Lila sat curled up, knees drawn up, arms wrapped protectively around her belly.

“What was it?” he asked, settling beside her.

She just kept crying.

Five had seen her emotional before—but not like this. Angry tears, bitter tears, the kind that simmered behind sharp words. But sobbing? That was new.

He reached out, placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and pulled away like he’d burned her.

“It was about Mum…” Her voice was raw. “The Handler.”

“A job?”

“No.”

He waited for her to say more, but when she didn’t—when the sobs took over again—he spoke instead.

“You’re 21 weeks,” he said. “The book said dreams get a little crazy around now. Vivid, weird—hormones and all that.”

“I don’t need that,” she choked out. “I already have shit dreams as it is.” Her breathing hitched, but she kept going. “I can’t have them like that for the next nineteen weeks, Five.”

“This your first one like this?”

“No. Just the worst so far.”

“Well, we can’t make them go away,” he said. “But I know a trick to make them feel less intense.”

Lila let out a sharp breath, a ghost of a scoff. “What would you know? You don’t sleep, you drink to pass out so I doubt you dream.” There was that bite in her voice, the push meant to keep people at arm’s length.

He ignored the dig. She wasn’t completely wrong, blacking out did give way to peaceful nights but with no alcohol recently, that wasn’t an option anymore. “I had plenty of bad dreams about my family.”

“Had.” She threw the word back at him, like it meant he’d moved on and she never would.

“And I have plenty now,” he said, unfazed. “About the apocalypse.”

That shut her up.

After a long pause, she muttered, “Nothing scarier than being alone.”

“Right. So do you want to hear what I have to say or not?”

She didn’t speak, but in the dim light, it looked like she nodded.

“Make a dream journal,” he told her. “Write down as much detail as you can. The more you reread them, the more you can rationalise them.”

“That sounds like some therapist bullshit.”

“John van Kaas, actually,” Five said. “I read his book when I was fourteen and started doing it. Made a note after every nightmare. Or something to that effect.”

She sniffed. “Yeah? But you still have them.”

“I never said it makes them go away,” he replied. “It just makes them manageable.”

The sobbing had stopped, leaving only the occasional sniffle to break the silence.

“Do you want me to get you some water or something?” Five asked.

Lila shook her head.

“Okay. Night, then.”

He shifted to get up, but her hand caught his. He turned, startled by how quickly she’d moved.

“Could you stay?”

“Lila…” His voice lacked the usual warning tone. Maybe it wasn’t a warning at all—more of a plea. A plea not to ask him to stay when his ability to say no to her was already running on empty.

“Just until I fall asleep.”

He could do that.

Five settled back onto the bed, pulling the covers down. “Get comfy.”

Lila adjusted her pillow, sinking into it as he draped the blanket over her. He wasn’t sure if she’d moved the pillow closer or if the damn thing was just that big, but it was pressed against him now.

“I know I didn’t want to talk about mine right now,” she said quietly, “but you can always talk about yours.”

“Is this your way of asking for a bedtime story?”

She didn’t reply, but he could almost picture her giving him one of her lopsided smiles.

Five let out a small chuckle whilst shaking his head. “Sure. It’ll stop me from falling asleep.”

He talked to Dolores about Lila in his dreams. Maybe tonight, he’d switch it around.

“Do you want to know how we met?” he asked, knowing she’d understand exactly who he meant.

“Sounds like a good dream rather than a bad one.”

“This one comes with a twist.”

He told her everything. How he ran into Dolores a couple of times at the department store. It made it sound like it was some romance comedy. How he decided that if he didn’t talk in this wasteland—even if it was just to a plastic mannequin—his vocal cords might wither away. He didn’t know if his rationalisation would make sense. Why not just talk to yourself? He tried to not make himself sound too insane. It wasn’t like he was asking her how she was or anything too crazy—not to start with at least—but Five then proceeded to list off all her favourite books.

At times, he paused. Each time, Lila mumbled, “Still awake.” So he continued.

The more he explained the more he realised how mad he sounded, explaining how much an inanimate object had meant to him. Maybe the real insanity wasn’t that he had needed her—but that he had justified it for so long, convinced himself that talking to her was what had kept him sane. Maybe it hadn’t.

And yet, Lila never laughed. Not once. Not even a snicker. Maybe she was too tired to.

When he stopped again, this time she asked, “Did you fall asleep?”

He hesitated, then kept going.

He told her about the collapse of the library. How his own stubbornness—his unwillingness to find somewhere stable because he silently hoped the building would crush him in his sleep some nights—had led to her being buried in the rubble. How he lost her, just like that.

Silence stretched between them and Five hoped that maybe she had finally fallen asleep and missed the ending, but then Lila finally spoke.

“But that’s not what happened, is it?” Her voice was softer now. “When did it stop being your reality and start being a dream?”

“Well, you know the ending wasn’t true.” His tone was flat, unreadable. “So it’s up to you to decide what you want to believe about the rest.”

By the time he finished, he could see the first hints of sunrise peeking through the curtains. No point in trying to sleep now.

He glanced down at Lila, catching the way she was looking at him—really looking at him. Which meant his own expression was laid bare, too. He wasn’t sure how pathetic he looked, but he didn’t want to find out, so he turned his gaze elsewhere.

“I still need sleep,” she murmured.

“Okay. I’ll get up, then—”

“Wait.”

He stopped.

“I don’t think you should be alone.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Done it for forty years. What’s four more hours?”

“Look,” she said. “We’ve not had sex, and the sun is up now, so it’s not nighttime anymore. Stay. It counts as a nap.”

He finally looked at her again, searching for any trace of something he could argue with. But there wasn’t any.

So, wordlessly, he shifted down into the bed. Lila pulled the covers up around him, and he let himself sink into the mattress.

She had rationalised it. The same way he had been—'staying so she didn’t oversleep, the extra pillow for safety, the kiss to the shoulder was just the alcohol talking’.

He turned away, the oversized pillow pressing into his back. Closed his eyes.

He was so tired.

Maybe from the lack of sleep or maybe from fighting off something that was starting to feel more and more inevitable.

It didn’t feel like he’d slept long, but it had been deep—dreamless. Five blinked awake, rolling onto his side to glance at Lila. She was still out cold, face slack, no tension in her brow. She looked... peaceful. No signs of the nightmares that had wrecked her during the night.

Good.

He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her, and left the room. Back in his own space, he grabbed his notebook and flipped through it. He was running out of pages. That settled it—he had an errand to run.

By the time he returned, Lila was in the kitchen, dumping an obscene amount of sugar into her tea. She glanced up as he placed a plastic bag on the counter.

“Where’d you bugger off to?” she asked, dropping piece of bread into the toaster.

Five pulled out a shower mat, holding it up in silent warning. You will use this from now on.

Lila snorted. “Oh, piss off. I nearly slip one time—”

He ignored her, opening up the bag on the counter to let her peek in. “And I got these.”

She poured out and passed him his coffee before peering inside, pulling out three journals—identical in style but different in colour. One black, one red, one white.

“What, you planning on scrapbooking now?”

“One’s for me, one’s for you, and the last one’s for bump.”

Lila blinked. “You bought a baby book?”

“What?” Five frowned, genuinely confused, and Lila let out a short laugh.

She picked up the white journal, flipping through it. “Y’know, you can get ones that actually have milestones written in ‘em—like, ‘first smile,’ ‘first steps,’ ‘first time they tell you to sod off’—that kinda thing.”

“I can get you one of those instead, if you’d prefer?”

Lila shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Nah. Never been one for filling out forms on a page. Kid’ll do what they want, when they want, in their own time.”

“Especially if she takes after you.”

She rolled her eyes at him but picked up the red journal. “Which one’s mine?”

“Whichever you want, but I figured you’d like the red.”

“You figured correctly.” She thumbed through the pages, then smirked. “This for that dream journaling thing?”

“That, and whatever else you wanna use it for.”

Lila grabbed her toast as it popped up, placing it between her teeth as she reached for a spare pen on the counter. One hand held her tea, the other the pen and the notebook. “What about yours?” It was muffled but Five understood.

“Same. Plus, I need to start putting together some theories if I’m really doing this whole college-slash-university thing.”

“Look at you. Big boy making plans.”

Five hummed unamused as he sipped his coffee watching Lila making her way out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” he asked as his eyes followed her.

“Gonna write down last night’s while I still remember it.”

It must’ve been bad, if she could still recall it after going back to sleep. Five didn’t press. Instead, he grabbed his own journal and the shower mat, heading upstairs. Tossing the black notebook onto his bed, he made his way to the bathroom. As he unravelled the mat, the steady drip, drip, drip of the leaky faucet filled the silence.

Today was the day, he would fix it. He got a wrench.

---

It was a week later when the next bad dream she had woke Five up with muffled sobs.

His body was wired for it—light sleeper, always had been unless he had drunk enough not to be. Sleeping in a room lit up and treating every strange noise as a potential building certainly didn’t help either.

He sat up, listening before swinging his legs out of bed and padding over to her room, knocking lightly.

“Lila?”

The response was immediate, sharp—“Go away!”

He exhaled through his nose. Didn’t argue.

But he didn’t leave, either. Instead, he slid down against her door, resting his back against it. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to force his way in. Just waited.

And when the sobbing finally quieted, he got up and went back to bed.

The morning after that dream, Lila avoided him. Not just in the casual, I’ll talk to you later way, but in the deliberate, I am absolutely not acknowledging your existence way.

By this point, it was safe to assume the dream had involved him.

Fine.

He took the hint and left the house, wandering until he found the coffee shop they went to after her most recent scan. Settling into a corner, he pulled out his journal and started writing—everything he could recall about quantum-enhanced measurements. Not just from his years of reading whatever he could find in the apocalypse, but from what he’d observed in The Commission. How they manipulated time. How they stabilised it in briefcases. He filled pages with equations, theories, memory fragments. It was a good use of a few hours.

And it gave Lila space.

By the time he returned, the house was empty. He checked his phone. No messages. No missed calls.

He hadn’t told her where he was going today. It was fair for her not to, either.

---

A pattern emerged, one Five tried not to acknowledge.

Just as intimacy seemed to quiet his craving for alcohol, it also seemed to guarantee Lila a dreamless night.

The next time she had a nightmare, it wasn’t sobbing or a scream that woke him. It was his name.

Over and over.

Five’s body moved before his brain caught up. He shoved back the covers, jumping out of bed, and made a beeline for her room. If he could have blipped, he would’ve been there instantly, but his legs would have to do.

He didn’t knock. Didn’t pause. Just pushed the door open and climbed straight into bed with her, not even allowing for his eyes to adjust.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

Before he knew what had happened, she was curled up against his chest—her cheek and fists pressed against his bare skin, not holding him, just grounding herself. Five kept his arms at his sides, stabilising himself as her full weight slumped into him.

Her breathing was ragged. No tears this time. Just pure, unfiltered panic.

When the pressure eased and Five no longer felt like he might topple backwards, he lifted a hand to her shoulder. It rested there—neither pushing her away nor pulling her in. Just… there.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “That stupid chapter we read the other night, it got into my head.”

“Breastfeeding? What’s scared you about it?”

“You.”

Not accusatory exactly, but not entirely innocent either.

He couldn’t work out how it was his fault and she didn’t give him to think before she continued. “It said that when you breastfeed, you give up your bone density, calcium stores... Even without the apocalypse, that can screw with your body. But during one?” Her voice cracked. “My milk ran out. My body kept trying to make more, but there wasn’t anything left. My teeth fell out, my bones broke—she was screaming, starving, and I didn’t know what to do, Five.”

Her words hit him like a blow. For a moment, all he could hear was the thudding of his own heart, loud and fast and sickeningly real. His nightmares had crawled into her head.

Without hesitation, he pulled her back against his chest, his hand trailing from her shoulder, down her arm to the elbow, a small squeeze, then he let go, instead finding the small of her back for it to rest in.

“You wouldn’t starve. Not right away. There’s tinned food, hunting, powdered formula still in stores. Bottled water. You’d get through the first six months breastfeeding no problem. You’d feed her. You’d feed both of you.”

He didn’t say the rest. That tinned food would eventually be too salty for a weaning baby. That formula expires. That water runs out.

She didn’t need that. She needed now.

“What about after?”

“Then she eats what you eat,” he said simply. “Kids aren’t picky unless they have the luxury to be. She’ll eat what her body needs.”

Lila was quiet for a moment. Then, “what if you’re right? What if there’s another doomsday coming?”

“Then we make it through another doomsday. Done three, what’s a fourth at this point.”

Her voice was smaller now, brittle. “What if you’re not there? What if we get split up?”

“Then you survive.”

She didn’t reply.

Five ducked his head a little, speaking softer. “You know how I know that?”

She shook her head against his chest.

“Because you’re just as smart and capable as I am.”

Lila gave a breathy, choked-out laugh. “Was that a compliment for me or for you?”

“Take it however you want.”

The room started to feel smaller now the adrenaline had started to die down. Her warm cheek pressed against his bare chest, his arm lightly wrapped around her. Suddenly he was aware of the closeness of it all and how it didn’t make him want to recoil. But he didn’t have to as Lila pulled back. “I need to take a leak.”

His hand dropped from her back and he shifted to leave the bed. But before either of them moved far, her voice stopped him.

“Can you be here when I get back?”

Five hesitated. He hadn’t checked the time when he ran in, but it felt like the middle of the night. Talking alone wouldn’t carry them through till morning this time. He could stay awake and crash later, or wait until she fell asleep and slip out. Either way, the day would pay for it.

“Sure,” he said simply.

She moved, her silhouette just about visible as she reached for the bedside lamp and clicked it on.

Once she was out of the room, Five glanced at the small clock on the nightstand. 1:03 a.m.

He sighed, adjusted the pillow behind him, and sat back against the headboard, eyes flicking toward the open doorway.

A few moments later, the toilet flushed. She wondered back in and climbed under the covers again—but didn’t switch off the light.

“You can turn it off,” he said.

“But what if you wake up?”

“Who said I’m sleeping?”

She gave him a look before looking away, curling up to her pillow, trying to make her request now a flippant statement. “Okay, then either go back to your bed now so you can sleep… or sleep here.”

“The middle of the night doesn’t count as a nap,” he said flatly as he watched her chew on her bottom lip. She was still nervous and if he could reduce it, help, who was he to say no when he was the one who put some of these hellish ideas into her head. “Just tonight.”

“Just so we don’t get split up if the ceiling caves in.”

He winced at that as he sunk down into the bed on his right side facing her. The pillow, which had been used to be able to bring them together, now a perfect barrier to keep them apart.

“Night.”

Chapter Text

When he woke, Lila was already sitting up, scribbling in her journal. Five didn’t move, didn’t change his breathing. He just laid there, watching her.

She hadn’t noticed he was awake yet, her brow furrowed in concentration. She didn’t look tired, which was good—seemed like the rest of the night had passed without incident.

Dreams were slippery things. Recalling them came in waves—one moment, you remembered the end, then something earlier would resurface. Writing them down often looked as fractured on paper as it felt in your mind, until you got enough down to start putting it all into some kind of order. Though knowing Lila, she probably didn’t bother reordering anything. She’d leave it exactly as it spilled out.

When she finally stopped, she closed the journal with a sigh and glanced down at him.

“And just how long have you been perving?”

Five knit his brows. His gaze trailed over her—she was upright, the blanket tucked under her bump, bra on but one strap dangling loose. He had no idea how that didn’t irritate her. Still, she was wrong. He hadn’t been ogling her. He’d been watching her face, the way it glowed faintly in the morning light. He’d traced the crease between her brows, followed the line of her nose, and watched as her teeth nibble her lower lip.

His eyes flicked to the lamp. Off now, not that it mattered—the daylight had taken over.

“I only turned it off because the room was already well lit,” she offered, catching his glance.

He gave a small nod and a faint smile, appreciating the explanation.

“Not talking this morning?” she asked, teasing lightly.

He blinked, trying to coax his brain into gear.

“Did you manage to write much about last night?” he asked as he shifted upright beside her. Her pillow was now stuffed behind her back, creating a soft throne of support.

“Three pages. Though I think it turned into a bit of an internal monologue partway through,” Lila murmured, fiddling with the edge of the notebook.

“That happens. That’s good, though. That’s probably the rationalisation kicking in.”

“Not sure I’d call it that. Might just be the mind spiralling again.”

He met her eyes and gave her another small, but this time sympathetic smile.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Lila said, moving to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She placed the journal on the bedside table. “Join me, if you want.”

Five cocked an eyebrow, watching her saunter casually toward the door.

“So what—we’re just saying goodbye to all personal space now?”

“Up to you if you want lesson five,” she tossed back holding up her hand and wiggling all her fingers.

“That sounds like a dangerous idea.”

“It’s lesson five, Five. If it wasn’t dangerous, it wouldn’t be a very good lesson.” She turned, pausing in the doorway whilst those words made his manhood twitch. “Besides, it’s not like you’re going to let me fall.”

Standing there, she unclipped her bra and pulled down her underwear, throwing them over to a pile of clothes in the corner of her room before hurrying away. Maybe a laundry basket would be a good idea.

“Fuck it,” Five muttered under his breath, kicking off his boxers and tossing them into her washing pile.

The sound of running water greeted him as he stepped into the bathroom. The shower was already on, warming up, steam curling at the edges of the glass. Lila turned at the sound of his approach and grinned—sharp, knowing, wicked.

He ran a hand through his hair, more out of habit than vanity, and stepped inside. As he passed, he extended his hand. She took it without question, letting him gently guide her in beside him, her bare feet pressing into the mat.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head, “this seems wildly impractical. One of us is going to be warm under the water while the other freezes.”

“If you’re going to moan, Five,” she said, casting a glance at him, “make it the good kind.”

She looked down at their joined hands, still clasped. With a subtle squeeze, she used it for balance as she eased herself down onto her knees, settling in just outside the direct stream of water. Her movements were confident, deliberate.

Five stepped under the spray, a low exhale slipping past his lips as the hot water coursed over his shoulders and back. It was grounding. Intimate. Strange.

Her fingers wrapped around him first—slow, unhurried strokes that made his breath catch—before her tongue followed, tracing him with a teasing softness that sent a sharp jolt through him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head tipping back slightly as he pressed his left arm to the tile wall for balance. His right hand tangled instinctively in her damp hair, resting atop her head as she moved against him.

Everything felt heightened—the heat of the water running rivulets down his spine, the wet silk of her mouth, the way her other hand steadied herself against his thigh.

It was different.

She wasn’t rushing. Every movement was intentional—slow strokes of her hand near his base, cupping his balls periodically, tentative licks of her tongue. She wasn’t trying to finish him off and call it a day. Whatever lesson this was supposed to be, he doubted this was part of it. This wasn’t something new or experimental. This was simply… pleasure.

He looked down through half-lidded eyes, watching her caress him with her mouth. How was this the same woman he would’ve bet his life savings on trying to slit his throat just months ago?

An unguarded moan slipped from his lips as she took him in deeper, her cheeks hollowing with effort. He let his hips roll forward in a slow thrust. The hum she gave in response vibrated against him, a wordless confirmation—yes, like that.

His breath was coming faster now, small pants escaping as he felt himself nearing. He tapped her head lightly, the universal signal to stop unless she wanted to go all the way.

And just like that, the suction ended.

Panting, he reached down and offered her a hand. She took it, rising to her feet. Once she was upright, he guided her back against the tiled wall. His hand slipped from hers, starting a slow, purposeful trail up the outside of her thigh—until she smirked.

“No hands.”

Fine.

He started to bend, lowering himself to the floor, when her grip caught his arm.

“No tongue either.”

A flicker of a scowl passed across his face—seriously?—but then it loosened. Ah. So this was the lesson.

Without another word, Lila stepped backwards, reaching up and pulling the detachable showerhead down from its cradle. Lila flicked the switch making water shoot out of it, aiming it at the floor. She turned, giving him her back, and spread her stance slightly. One hand reached down to part her folds, while the other angled the stream of warm water directly against herself, guiding it just right. Her forehead rested against the tile as the water hit home.   

Five moved in behind her. His hand followed the line of her arm until his fingers closed over hers on the handle of the spray. His hand lingered over hers a moment longer, both of them holding the showerhead between her legs, the hum of the water the only sound aside from her shallow breaths.

Then, he slowly pulled it away.

Lila exhaled, a soft noise of protest barely audible, but she didn’t move. Her forehead still rested against the tile, and her stance stayed wide, open—offering.

With his free hand, Five slid the showerhead into its holder above them, out of the way for now. Then he moved in, closer, his groin bumping into her bottom as his palm skimmed the curve of her hip, fingertips grazing the underside of her belly before he found her waist. The other hand slid around her thigh, pulling her back just enough for him to line himself up behind her.

It wasn’t as easy as when they were on the bed or sofa. Heights were different and it took a bit of manoeuvring. His cock slipped.

“Oi. You’re poking the wrong hole.”

“Not the lesson?” The sarcasm masking his slight awkwardness.

“… Not with just water and soap it isn’t!”

He lowered, bending his knees slightly more, realigning. Then, with one smooth thrust, he pushed inside.

Lila groaned—low, deep, and satisfied.

Five’s fingers tightened on her hips. She was hot and slick, already adjusted, and the angle... fuck.

He held still at first, giving them both a moment to steady. Making sure that Lila was braced well against the tile whilst his knees stayed slightly bent, ensuring his balance before moving.

When he began to thrust, it was controlled—testing each movement. He was careful not to drive too deep too fast, focused instead on finding a comfortable rhythm which shouldn’t cause either to slip.

Once confident in the motion and assured no one was going to fall or knock into anything, he reached forward and took the showerhead back in hand.

Lila shifted slightly when she felt him move, but he pressed a hand to her lower back, steadying her again. Then, with a twist of his wrist, the spray hit her where it had before—hot water pulsing against her as he continued thrusting into her from behind.

The groan that tore from her throat this time was less composed, hips jerking slightly in time with the rhythm of water and body.

"Is that okay?" he asked, voice low and rough near her ear.

She only nodded, the motion shaky, her hands flattening against the wall.

Good.

Everything felt stable, and with the sensation and confidence, he adjusted his angle, thrusting just a little deeper now. Lila’s fingers curled against the cool wet tiles.

Five smirked, that was, until he felt her leg slip. The first time it happened, he moved his grip from her hip to the front of her thigh, hoping to offer more stability. However, as soon as he heard and felt her leg falter again—he was done.

Five slowed immediately, his movements becoming shallow, cautious. It didn't seem to matter much; the shower spray was doing most of the work now. He didn’t stop completely—just enough to stay connected, to seem engaged—but his mind was elsewhere.

He didn’t even take satisfaction from the noises that came out of her moments later. As soon as she’d ridden it out, Five reached up and hit the switch, diverting the water back to the main showerhead above their heads. A sudden blast of cold water startled her as he pulled out, the temperature snapping at their skin before warmth returned.

"What the fuck, Five?" Lila snapped, twisting her head slightly.

Good, a distraction.

"Sorry," he muttered, pushing himself off the tile, turning away. Shaking the water from his hair, he exited the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist without looking at her.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. Did you even finish?"

Five stayed silent, his jaw tightening.

"Huh."

"No, 'huh.' You said this was a lesson in sex, not a lesson in how to send you to the hospital."

"Please," Lila scoffed, "like you’d need a lesson in that."

"Not funny, Lila."

He caught the way her arms folded across her chest, defensive now. Was she frustrated at him or herself?

"Look," she said, tone softer but still dismissive, "sorry. I didn’t realise you’d get so precious about it. We used your shower mat. Not my fault it doesn't cover every corner of the shower. I just... wanted to say thank you for last night."

Five felt his scowl deepen, the heat prickling the back of his neck. His jaw clenched so hard he saw Lila's expression falter.

"Friends with benefits," he said tightly. "The 'friends' bit covers last night. I don’t want benefits as a thank you."

"What, you're gonna convince me you didn’t do something totally out of your comfort zone?" she challenged.

"No," he said shortly. "But that's not how you say thank you."

She blinked, almost like she genuinely didn’t understand.

"Make me a cup of coffee," he said, running a hand through his dripping hair. "Not... this."

"We make drinks for each other every day," Lila muttered, like it was nothing special.

"Exactly. And that’s what I appreciate." His voice was quieter now, but steady. "Don’t get me wrong, of course I enjoy this—" he gestured vaguely between them, "but it's separate from everything else. Right? Just something we do."

"Just something we do," she echoed, but there was a small crack in her voice this time. Something uncertain beneath the words.

Five sighed, running the towel over his skin, drying off just enough to leave the bathroom. He hung it back on the rail, and with a glance over his shoulder, he saw Lila had turned away from him, showering as if nothing had happened.

He left, heading to his room, dragging clothes on without thinking, before slumping onto the edge of the bed.

Why would someone say thank you like that?

Sure, people could appreciate each other. Appreciate someone's body. That wasn’t new. But somehow... this just felt like it cheapened it. Cheapened something—even if he wasn’t sure what that something was.

Just sex, he told himself. Just sex. Friends with benefits. That's all. Couples might say thank you for something though, like that.

He had heard of people doing something for their partners so maybe they could get lucky later. But they weren’t a couple.

So if he wanted to say thank you... how would he?

Buying her something?

He could—he had the money. But even that felt wrong. Backhanded somehow. Unbalanced. She was still looking for work. He wasn’t. Giving her gifts would only remind her of that difference—and he didn’t want to be the one doing that.

The journal wasn’t a gift, it was a tool, just something he got her to try and help. He needed a new one anyway so it wasn’t out of his way. Even the one for the baby was just sensible. Parents should keep track of what their kid did and when. Making sure they were developing well.

He decided that the best way to say thank you, between them, was in fact a warm beverage.

---

Several days went by without him being summoned in the middle of the night.

With a yawn and a stretch, Five grabbed the handrail as he headed downstairs, surprised to find Lila already curled up on the sofa, legs tucked under a duvet, scribbling away in her journal. He was almost always the first downstairs in the morning and when he reached the bottom, he could see just how tired she looked—heavy-eyed, skin a little pale.

"How long have you been up?" he asked, noting the TV was on low. A music channel playing most likely the same twenty music videos all day.

"Since..." She glanced up from her page, checked her phone. "3:40 a.m."

He didn't bother asking if it was another nightmare. The evidence was right there. Instead, he crossed the room and sank down onto the opposite end of the sofa.

"Why didn't you call for me?"

"Thought I made you feel awkward enough the other night," she muttered, not meeting his eyes, pen still moving.

Five didn’t argue. He didn’t say anything at all for a moment. He just watched her, that same unnamed knot tightening in his chest. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, his throat suddenly dry. He could tell her it wasn’t that bad. That he actually wanted to be there. That, honestly, he preferred waking up beside her that day over the sex that followed. But the words hovered somewhere just out of reach—too soft, too vulnerable to make it past his lips.

When the silence stretched too long, he shifted like he was going to stand, to make for the kitchen — but something hard hit the cushion next to him.

The journal.

He blinked down at it, brow raising.

"You can read them... if you want," Lila said, capping her pen and twiddling it between her fingers.

"I thought it was private," he said carefully. "You've had dreams you haven't told me about."

"Yeah, well." She shrugged, a little too fast, a little too forced. "Maybe it'd be good to get a second opinion. You know, on how nuts I actually am."

Five didn't speak, he just picked up the book.

The first entry was dated about four weeks ago—around the time he was first summoned to her room by the sound of her sobs.

Even though I am an adult now she always had a couple of inches on me, a couple more with those damn red heels she would wear compared to my red boots. She didn’t need the physical height though to make me feel small. Is that a thing? What your parental figures say sticking with you, haunting you? Why does being called stupid hurt worse than being called a cunt, even though only one of them gets bleeped out on TV?

The speech she gave me tonight wasn’t anything new but the context was.

“You're useless. You can't be a mum. You don't know how to be one. You might have thought I was awful, but you'll be worse. Don't look at me with those sad, pathetic eyes. You got into this mess, now you'll deal with it alone and suffer your own stupid consequences. You can't get a job. Who are you trying to fool? What are you going to do? Murder people for a living? That was your job and you weren’t even very good at that. What chance do you have at something you haven’t even been trained in. Pathetic. Stupid girl. No mummy this time to bail you out.”

I wonder how much I will fuck her up with my words, let alone actions.

Lila’s word lingered in ink, but the sting they left behind was fresh.

Five took a deep breath.

It was obvious, how deeply The Handler's poison had sunk in over the years. How it clawed at her, even now. Parental figures had a way of seeding shame that never stopped growing. How often he could hear Reginald’s voice tell him, ‘Hence, the reason you’re not ready.’  That damn seed was an acorn.

“I think people who know their words can hurt,” he said slowly, “are usually more careful choosing them. You’re aware of how she spoke to you. That means you don’t have to speak the same way.”

Lila gave a small shrug, her gaze dropping to the bedding, pulling it that bit higher over her.

"I don’t really remember my birth parents anymore,” she murmured, “but I can’t imagine they would’ve spoken to me like that.” Under the duvet, Five saw her arm move—rubbing slow circles over her bump. “I hope you’re right. And I won’t do it.”

Five stayed where he was, journal resting open on his lap, fingers tracing the edge of the page.
The words were there—he could feel them—but they refused to surface.

He wanted to tell her she wasn’t like The Handler. That she wasn’t pathetic. That she wasn’t alone.
But he didn’t know how to say any of it without it sounding like he was just saying it because the words were displayed in front of him.

His attention was pulled to the next entry. This time it wasn’t about pregnancy or motherhood. It wasn’t brutal words, but brutal actions.

A kill.

Checking the date, he realised it lined up with the night he’d sat outside her door. The night she told him to go away—but his legs never carried him back to bed. They folded under him right there, on the floor.

I can’t remember their name. I don’t even recall their facial features. I just remember how they felt when they were on top of me. How their breath ran over my shoulder until it didn’t. How much more they crushed me when their body slumped, instead of moved. How warm blood is when it pools across you. Naked bodies were always harder to shift than clothed ones—nothing to grip or drag.

She had once told him that every kill was personal.

Guess you don’t need a name for it to be personal but why  couldn’t she remember their face?

“When you're awake, can you picture his face?” Five asked, still staring down at the page, at the words, at their implications.

“Who said it was a man?” Lila didn’t look at him.

Five skimmed it again. It was non-descript, ‘they, their’.

"If it was a woman," he said, "there’s more chance you would’ve been the one on top. You mention not having anything to grip. You would have dragged her off by her hair.”

"Huh. Guess you were the best at this shit for a reason." But there was no complement behind those words. They were cold.

Five shrugged. It wasn’t a title he wanted.

"Yeah... I can see his face when I’m awake. But when I’m asleep..." Her voice trailed off, quieter. "Faces seem less defined. Maybe they all just blur together."

She pulled the duvet now up to her chin, holding it there.

"I don’t think it was the killing that bothered me in that one," she murmured. "I think it was feeling trapped. He was a big guy."

Five’s face softened, and a slow, sympathetic breath escaped.

"Don’t be," she said, catching the apology without him needing to say it. "Besides... he deserved it. He was Commission. Not exactly innocent."

She dropped her gaze, fiddling with the duvet, running the edge across her lips.

Five turned back to the journal, flipping to the next page. His hand running across the back of his neck as he read the first line.

He did it again. That damn briefcase in his hand, the other wrapped around a handgun. A bullet lodged in my chest. He didn’t stand alone, The Handler laughed as I slumped on the floor in a puddle of my own blood.

She wanted her, my baby—and the one person I thought who would help me protect her—turned on me. Maybe we didn’t know each other in this timeline, but it didn’t sting any less. Why is it that you can feel pain in dreams and it manifests in real life? Physically. Mentally.

I hid her under the stairs before they arrived. I have no idea why. That would have been the first place they looked. Not sure how I even knew they were coming.

Guess it was a shitty redo of my life with a twist.

“Lila—”

She cut him off without looking at him.

"I know you wouldn’t... but it doesn’t change the fact that it still plays on my mind. You just... can't expect me to forget it."

Or forgive it, he thought grimly.

Suddenly the sofa felt too small. Too close. He shoved the feeling aside and flipped to the next entry.

He recognised this one. They had already discussed it—the apocalypse dream.

In a selfish way, Five was glad he hadn’t dragged a sibling into his own end-of-world disaster. Sure, it would have meant company, another pair of hands. But what if they hadn’t survived? What if they had died because of him?

He couldn’t imagine the panic of having an infant with you. How to keep them warm enough, fed, watered, when everything was difficult to come by.

Even though they’d talked about it, he still read the entry. Three pages long, just like she’d said. Unlike the others—short, sharp, and to the point—this one was scattered. Rambling. A mess of thoughts crammed together in a rush.

It looked more like something he would’ve written than her. A stream-of-consciousness breakdown, half-plan, half-panic. It read more like a contingency plan.

Anything he could have said would have sounded like he was critiquing someone’s essay. ‘You did well to consider how you would obtain water but you need to consider how you would store it.’

Instead he turned to the last entry. Last night’s.

Guess I need to stop being mad at Five. I’m not angry all the time. It flares up, and sometimes I push it back down. I’ve been able to push those feelings aside. More so lately. Although I couldn’t the other week, when I had that dream which just stirred everything up. That day I needed space and I am happy he realised, taking some time out of the house.

I wonder how many parents I killed over the years? The cheating husband, the lying wife... they likely had kids at home. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t want to. I never looked around when I broke in. Never wanted to see kids hiding somewhere.

Guess my subconscious was being extra harsh last night.

I appeared in someone's living room. Tied the couple up. No information to extract.

Then killed them.

Knife to the throat. Messy and not instant.

The wife watched me do it to the husband first. She screamed before I slit her throat too. I looked for the briefcase to leave but there wasn’t one.

When do dreams ever make sense?

And then he appeared. Five. Briefcase in hand. Guess we were partners on this one. Was he turning up to extract me from this job?

I moved to take his free hand as he messed with the dial on the briefcase—and heard the muffled cries from a child.

Hiding at the top of the stairs.

They were parents.

Was I meant to kill the little girl too or hand her over to The Handler. It was the same thing anyway.

Five turned the page to see if the story continued, but it didn’t. It ended there—with the child's cries. They must have teleported away.

Why did she want him to read this? ‘Guess we were partners on this one.’ The subconscious had a strange way of speaking through dreams. Was this her way of suggesting that being his partner was problematic? Or her trying to understand his dilemma with that type of job? Or was he just reading too much into it?

‘Maybe it'd be good to get a second opinion. On how nuts I actually am.’

He looked over but she had moved again, her head now resting on the arm of the chair, staring off at the wall.

The last entry:

I'm alone. I messed up, as per usual. "If you lie to me again, you're out," and I did. It was something silly, but dreams have a way of blowing things out of proportion—or maybe I just think that what we have is so fragile.

I lied about the food. Ate my way through all the cans. Five was taking inventory once a week instead of once a day, and when he noticed, he lost his shit. Come to think of it I don’t think I have ever seen Five fully shout before. Normally he is able to argue something somewhat calm and collected. Not this time though. He was angry. That if I didn't “respect what he was trying to do—if I couldn't be honest”—then I was out.

I didn’t dream about giving birth, thankfully. But as soon as I was out on my own, she was there too. The world hadn’t ended, but it may as well have. Everyone ignored us. I always thought if I had a family, I would never be by myself again. But I don’t think that’s how it works. Sure, you have someone with you—and it can be nice to do things for someone else—but not like this. Not on the streets. Not in these circumstances. An infant isn’t company, it’s a liability, and something you’re liable for. If you’re in an apocalypse everything is free. I’m not sure what scares me more, a world where you need money to survive or survival on what you can find.

I’m going to love her so fiercely though, I will protect her no matter what. I will make whatever world we wake up in work.

Five looked over, her eyes were now closed but she wasn’t asleep. She was humming. His attention turned to the TV. He recognised the tune but couldn’t say he had ever listened to it before but some of the words caught his attention.

‘When the world's not perfect, when the world's not kind
If we have each other, then we'll both be fine
I will be your mother, and I'll hold your hand
You should know I'll be there for you’

He could see why she knew it, why she hummed along, chances are she knew all the words, that they resonated deeply with her, enough to come into her dreams or to give her support. He was about to speak when the next verse caught his attention instead. Listening to the lyrics whilst soft hums continued. It talked about a couple growing old together, making memories but it was the slight shift in the courses which tugged at something.

“I will be your lover, and I’ll hold your hand.

You should know I'll be there for you”

Now, no more words getting caught. Now he needed to speak.

"I'm not throwing you out... even if you ate all the canned food."

Five closed the journal and placed it gently on the coffee table. Then, standing, he made his way to the kitchen to put the kettle on, carefully considering his next words. He stood in the doorway, swallowed hard and continued, his words slow and deliberate.

"I know I've called you a crazy lady in the past, but this…” He pointed to the journal. “Isn’t madness. It’s survival. Compartmentalising. Working through traumas, which I get I’m a part of." The last part of the sentence came out quieter, softer, almost a mutter.

When the kettle finally whistled he was grateful for the interruption. He grabbed it, pouring the boiling water over a teabag he’d dropped into a mug.

As he returned, he handed her the tea. He knew how she liked to wrap her hands around it, even when it was far too hot to actually drink.

"What are you saying thank you for?"

"For letting me have a glimpse into that mind of yours. Although, I don't know what to suggest, or say, or..." He trailed off.

"You said enough. I'm not crazy. Just pregnant, hormonal, and damaged."

"Well, you could've labelled me two out of those three things since you've known me too."

"Congrats. When’s the baby due?" she quipped, and for the first time that morning, he saw a small smile.

"Do you want to try and get some more sleep? Might be easier now you’ve 'talked' about it."

"I think I’d prefer company, if that’s alright." She blew on her tea.

"I can come up with you, if you want. I've got notes to read through."

"Nah, all my stuff’s down here. I’ll nap here." She took a tentative sip, then started to drink. Five shook his head slightly—she had a throat like a lead pipe.

He got up and gathered his journal, heading for the table.

"You're just reading, right?"

"Yeah?"

"So sit on the sofa where it’s comfortable. Not on one of those hard chairs."

"There isn’t much room," he said, but it wasn’t a protest. He sat back down in his usual spot.

"It’s fine. I can curl up." Lila placed her cup on the coffee table and shifted the duvet as she moved a cushion under her head.

Five cast his eyes over her. There was no way she was going to be comfortable like that. She liked to sleep tightly huddled up, sure, but it wasn’t easy anymore. She wasn’t going to get any decent rest like that.

"Stretch out," he said, opening his notebook.

"It’s fine."

He didn’t ask again. Instead, he grabbed the duvet, pulled it over his legs, then reached for her feet, placing them gently on his lap and easing her into a more comfortable sprawl.

"Guess I owe you a coffee."

As her body uncurled, relaxed, his lips curled upwards.

È tempo di voltare pagina, amore.

Chapter Text

Reading Lila’s journal had been unexpectedly insightful—but it stirred more thoughts than Five was prepared for. His mind, as always, defaulted to its usual circuitry.

What can I fix? What can I prevent? How do I help?

But beneath the practical came something murkier. A knot of personal, unfiltered thoughts he hadn’t expected—thoughts about them. About the arrangement. The so-called friends-with-benefits setup and one rule that had always made it feel safe.

Rule Six. We stop if either one of us gets uncomfortable.

He didn’t know where she stood. That was the hardest part. Lila was unpredictable—open one moment, guarded the next. Warm and teasing, then suddenly closed off. And now, after reading what she’d written, it seemed clearer. She was uncomfortable.

Nightmares of him killing her. Of him taking her baby. The fear was right there, in black and white.

But then, there were the parts that contradicted all of it. She didn’t want to be alone. If the world ended again, she wanted him there. She had said as much.

Maybe that was survival logic—stick close to the one person who’d lived through the end of the world a few times already. Maybe she didn’t want him, just his experience.

It wasn’t nice to be thought of as someone’s personal demon but what maybe made it worse was how he felt. That quiet, intrusive thought that kept screaming out from the depths whenever he cared more than he should. That maybe he wanted more than what they had agreed to.

And if he did; would that be the thing that ended it?

His head ached from how it all circled—logic wrestling with emotion, neither side backing down. There were rules. Clear-cut, no-nonsense guidelines. So how the hell had it all gotten so messy?

No sleeping in each other’s beds—yet he ran to hers the moment she needed him.

No unnecessary touching—but he held her hand as she snaked her arm round him. And recently, he held her when she cried.

He should stop. Reiterate the rules. Rein it all back in.

But why? She hadn’t told him to stop. She’d asked him to stay. She bent the rules too—just as illogically, just as willingly.

He told Dolores. No, Dolores isn’t here anymore. He told himself he would let go. He would move on. Turn a page.

Going back to the rules wasn’t moving forward—it was retreat.

And yet, the doubt crept in.

What if she was uncomfortable and just couldn’t say so? Those nightmares showed how little confidence she had in herself at times.

What if dread was silencing her—anxiety of being kicked out, of being alone? Other fears he had read were told to him in ink because her voice couldn’t say them out loud.

The journal and even her recent actions made one thing painfully clear; Lila hadn’t had the healthiest relationship with sex. Over the years, it had been taken, used, abused, and sometimes given.

What if what they were doing was hurting her more than helping?

Maybe they should stop.

He didn’t want to stop.

But what was the right decision? For her. For him.

Rather than spiral further into his own internal debate, Five redirected his attention to what he could control. Tangible, practical things. He made a very short list. Two small but specific items and one potentially crazy idea.

Formula.
Baby carrier.

Quick fixes. Simple purchases. Maybe they'd help ease a couple of the nightmares and even if they didn’t, at least they would serve a purpose in the not too distant future.

He had made two decisions around these. First, Lila should come with him to get the baby carrier. He didn’t want another item buried in a drawer just because he wasn’t sure how to give it to her. Second, the formula would stay hidden unless he absolutely needed to give reassurance. He could tuck it under the stairs among the litres of water he’d stockpiled.

She clearly wanted to try breastfeeding or she wouldn’t have expressed concerns about it. He didn’t want to undercut that before she even began. But if she needed it—or if doomsday came knocking—it would be there.

Which then left him with his potentially insane idea. The thought which had struck him when he heard Allison speaking to his siblings the other day.

Our parents will be alive in this timeline.

None of them had any ties to their parents. In the previous timelines or in this one. Sure, Klaus had once hoped to meet his mother, but that was back when they thought there might be a chance she would at least know of him—before the grandfather paradox changed everything.

But here? There was no chance.

Lila’s parents had her for four years in the original timeline—but here, she was never born. None of them were. No marigold, no births. This reset felt like dumb luck more than design to Five. He still couldn’t bring himself to believe Reginald had orchestrated it all with such precision that it hadn’t triggered a paradox or torn another hole in space-time, causing yet another kugelblitz or something to that effect.

Even if it hadn’t happened yet, that didn’t mean it wasn’t coming.

Still, Five couldn’t shake the idea that it might be worth trying to find Lila’s birth parents. Just a call. Yes, he would sound insane. But worst case? They’d hang up, call him crazy, block the number. Best case? Maybe they'd be curious and listen to her story—however unbelievable it sounded.

And if there was even a chance that could help Lila, then it was worth the effort.

While Lila was out at a couple of job interviews, Five made his way to the local library. It felt surreal stepping inside. As he walked through the doors, his eyes instinctively flicked toward the corner where, once upon a time, he'd made a makeshift camp.

He approached the front desk.

"Excuse me. I’m trying to find a way to look up businesses in other countries."

The librarian gave him a curious look. "You can just use one of the computers over there. Internet’s all set up."

"Right." He didn’t ask any more questions. She already looked at him like he’d time-travelled out of the Stone Age.

The last time Five had used a computer was in 2002. The Commission had preferred typewriters, and before that he had only used a computer a few times, when Grace could take him to the library to find more books after he had finished the ones Reginald assigned.

He sat down and stared at the screen. The little blue ‘E’ he remembered was nowhere to be found, but there was a circular icon—red, green, and yellow—helpfully labelled Internet. He clicked it.

Google opened immediately. Finally, something familiar.

He typed:
Anita and Ronnie Gill, Florists, London, England

First hit, Lovely Lilac.

He clicked the link. The page loaded much faster than he anticipated. Their faces stared back at him, smiling proudly in front of a quaint little shop.

There was no mistaking it—it was them. He hadn’t lied to Lila back in Dallas; he truly hadn’t remembered who they were or what they looked like. But seeing them now, it was obvious. She was the spitting image of her mother.

Five dialled the number listed on the website, it wasn’t until it was ringing had he considered the time difference.

Quick maths, 10:12a.m. here, 4:12p.m. there? They should still be open.

Pressing the phone to his ear it rang. Once. Twice.

Then a woman's voice answered.

“Lovely Lilacs, Anita speaking.”

“Hi,” Five said, already rising from his seat. The library’s no phone calls policy loomed over him via several sternly worded signs.

“How may I help?” Her voice was soft, gentle. Kind.

“This isn’t about flowers.” Blunt, straight to the point. People skills wasn’t his strong point.

Dial it back, try and sound a tad more friendly.

“And it might sound bizarre, but... if you could spare a few minutes, I promise I’ll try to explain.”

She gave a light laugh—bright, slightly amused. It startled him how much it sounded like Lila’s. That particular laugh she gave when she found something strange or awkward. Five always thought it was performative, a defence. But now he wondered—maybe it was just her mother’s laugh. Nature vs nurture.

By the time he’d made it through the library’s glass doors, Anita had agreed to listen, and Five suddenly realised he wasn’t entirely sure how to begin.

“May I ask... did you ever have children?”

There was a pause. “What sort of question is that to lead with?” she asked, she now sounded sceptical, defensive even. “But no. We didn’t.”

“Well,” he said, closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. “As strange as this will sound... the universe isn’t exactly linear. There are other timelines out there. And in one of them... you did have a child. Her name is Lila.”

A long silence. He heard what sounded like movement—maybe someone taking the phone from her.

Then a deeper voice.

“I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but you’re upsetting my wife.”

“I’m sorry,” Five said quickly. “That’s not my intention. It’s just—”

What was it? Just trying to tell you your daughter exists but it’s not exactly your daughter? That she was one of forty-three born from something called Marigold?

He hesitated, his voice almost faltering.

Then, softer now, the man spoke again.

“Did you say... Lila?”

“Yes,” Five said. “Yes, I did.”

There was another pause, then a quiet, breathy sound—maybe tears in the background from the woman. He assumed he was on speaker phone.

“We never told anyone,” the man continued. “But if we ever had a little girl... that’s the name we had picked out. Lila.”

Five blinked. Realistically, they could think he’d guessed based on the name of their shop. But if that was the one thread of belief they had to hold onto to get them to hear the rest, he’d take it.

“On October 1st, 1989,” Five said, steadying himself, “forty-three women gave birth. None of them were pregnant before that day.”

And so, he told them. Almost everything. The spontaneous births. The powers. The time travel. Lila’s parents—their counterparts—being murdered but leaving out by whom. The Handler. The collapse and recreation of reality.

And surprisingly, they didn’t hang up.

Even more surprising was what Ronnie said when he finally spoke again.

“You have an American accent. Is that where you are? Where Lila is?”

“Yeah,” Five replied. “That’s right.”

“Could we... talk to her?” The woman asked, talking to the phone once more.

Five hesitated, this went better than he expected, in fact he expected them to laugh and hang up. He hadn’t even considered how he would tell Lila what he had done.

She continued. “We don’t believe in much, really. But sometimes a lack of belief can make you open to things, even if they sound like something short of magic.”

“More like aliens” Five offered dryly, muttering slightly. “I didn’t tell her that I was going to try and make contact with you. I didn’t expect the conversation to get this far if I am honest. Let me talk to her and I will be in contact later.”

---

“How did the interviews go?” Five asked as Lila walked through the door.

He hadn’t been home long himself. A new stack of scientific—and arguably some sci-fi—books cluttered the table beside his open notebook. He wanted to spend the quiet alone time reading and scribbling down theories, but his mind had other ideas. It kept drifting, replaying scenes of the conversation he knew he needed to have—how the hell was he supposed to tell Lila he’d made contact with her parents? Not just contact—they wanted to talk to her.

“As shit as all the others,” Lila muttered, kicking off her shoes and slumping onto the sofa. “I see you’ve been busy. Got anything solid to submit yet?”

“Not yet but getting there.” Five flipped a page, pretending to focus, trying to look like he was deep in calculations rather than spiralling. He traced a line of ink with his finger, then sighed and closed the book. Steadying himself, he rose and walked over to the sofa.

He didn’t even know where to begin.

Was now the right time? She’d clearly had a rough day—would this make things better, or ten times worse?

Where had his speak-first, think-later reflex gone? Why was he suddenly so careful?

But the moment slipped away. Lila grabbed the remote, turning on the TV and started flipping through channels, her scowl still set deep. She stopped on a game show, settling in without another word.

From the corner of his eye, Five watched her shift around on the sofa, adjusting her position. Then something shifted in her expression—her scowl eased, and she lifted her shirt, fingers moving gently over her belly until they paused on a specific spot.

Five found himself stilling, watching her. She looked calm now, almost serene. When she spoke again, her voice caught him off guard.

"I can feel her kicking," she said softly.

"You could feel her kicking weeks ago," he replied, though he already sensed this was different.

“Yeah, but now she’s stronger. I can feel her from the outside.”

Tell me then, when there’s something to feel.

His previous words echoed through his mind as his gaze dropped to her bump.

She caught him staring and gave a half-smile. “C’mon. Feel the miracle of life—or whatever you wanna call it.”

He hesitated, then shifted closer. He reached out, unsure, but she took his hand and guided it under hers.

At first, there was nothing. Just warmth and stillness beneath his palm. He almost pulled away when—

“There,” she said suddenly, eyes lighting up. “Did you feel it?”

He didn’t answer right away. His attention was locked on that small, distinct thump. Without thinking, his thumb moved in small circles, just shy of the spot. Another tiny kick made him lean in a little more, drawn in by instinct.

“Hey,” he murmured, lowering his voice as he leaned toward her belly. “You doing okay in there? Warm enough? I hear room service is on tap.”

Lila laughed, the motion making her bump bounce. Another little kick hit his hand, unsure if it was in protest of her mother’s laugh or response to his questions.

“Geez,” she teased with a grin. “I said have a feel, not start a conversation.”

Five smirked and slowly pulled his hand back, slipping it free. “If they can kick like that already, we’re going to be in trouble.”

“We?” Her smile faded just slightly, brows lifting with quiet curiosity.

Five froze under her scrutiny, realising too late how his words had slipped out.

“I just thought, considering how the job hunt’s going and how much time is left…” He swallowed hard. He wanted to tell her she shouldn’t be worrying about this right now—that he’d rather she be resting, not stressing herself out over rejections or trying to work while heavily pregnant. That it didn’t matter how long she was here.

That he wanted her here.

But before he could find the words, she cut him off.

“I don’t want to be a burden, Five.” Her tone was firmer now, though her expression wavered. “I know I’ve been turned down for every job I applied for. Who’d have thought employers wouldn’t want a thirty-something with no real work experience? And you're right—‘assassin’ on the resume won't help.” She let out a bitter huff, eyes flicking away from his. “But I’ll figure it out. I’ll get out of your way.”

“You don’t have to,” Five said quickly.

Her eyes snapped back to his, suddenly sharp, cold. Detached. Open one second—guarded the next. Like she’d handed him something for a second and regretted it instantly. It was the exact back and forth he was struggling with comprehending just that morning.

“You won’t get any sleep,” she said. “She’ll cry all night. There’s no way I’ll be able to stop her before she wakes you up every hour.”

“Then I’ll be up anyway.” His tone was steady, quiet but resolute. “I can pitch in.”

“Why?” Her voice cracked at the edge, something raw slipping through. “Why are you offering all this when you’re not even related to this baby? No matter how much we—” She faltered, then pulled back behind her walls. Her next words came out harder, like she needed them to hurt. “No matter how much we fuck, that doesn’t change.”

Five didn’t flinch. He sat up straighter, eyes locked on hers.

“Blood doesn’t make family,” he said, voice soft.

And he meant it.

He wasn’t related to any of his siblings—just a number on a file, one of seven children signed over to the same distant man. There were no shared genetics. Just shared training, shared trauma, and the kind of bond that could only be forged in the fire of survival. That didn’t make them less. If anything, it made them more. More than blood.

And he knew it—knew that every word he was saying now was walking a tightrope. Every sentence making everything more complicated, more likely for her to say it was uncomfortable. To make her pull the trigger on rule six, her rule, and push him away.

He braced for it—her anger, her deflection, her retreat. Any of the walls she could throw up when things got too real. He’d expected her to scoff, to roll her eyes, to tell him to shut it and walk away like she had every right to.

And he waited.

But she didn’t leave.

Her face, guarded with bite, softened. Something dropped in her expression. Not completely, but enough. Enough for him to see the crack in the armour, and for something in him to shift too. His jaw unclenched. The permanent tension in his shoulders released just slightly. And before he could stop it, his eyes dropped—from hers to her lips.

Rule Two. No kissing.

His rule. The first one he laid out. Meant to protect them both. Meant to keep things casual, untangled.

So why had the thought crossed his mind several times over the past month or more.

How many times had he wanted to throw that rule out the window, to close the gap between them, to say fuck it and just see what would happen? To close the space between them and see what it meant. See if she’d let him. And for what? Comfort? Curiosity? Something deeper he still couldn’t quite name?

In the early days, he’d blamed the temptation on alcohol. Liquid courage. But he hadn’t touched a drink in weeks. No excuses left. No scapegoat. Just want—and the looming risk of consequence.

If she wasn’t going to invoke a rule, maybe he could break one.

It would change everything. Cement something. Or destroy it.

He shifted, barely, body angled just a little closer to hers. The air felt charged, like it might snap with the slightest move. His fingers flexed as if to reach for her hand—resting inches from his on the sofa.

But then he saw it.

Her defences were down, yes—but what stood in their place was vulnerability. Unshielded emotion. He saw it in her eyes, wide and uncertain. Not rejection, not discomfort. Just... fragility. And that made his breath catch.

She wasn’t pushing him away—but she wasn’t ready, either.

It hit him like a cold wave, fast and bracing.

His momentum slowed and instead of leaning into her, he leaned across her—not for her, but past her. His eyes didn’t linger. They snapped to the TV remote tucked beside her on the couch’s armrest.

He grabbed it. Switched the screen off.

The sudden silence made everything feel heavier.

Five cleared his throat. “While we’re on the topic of family,” he said, quietly. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Huh.” Lila slumped back against the cushions, and he noticed that she had leaned toward him too.

Had she even realised it?

Too late now.

“Go on then,” she said, trying for her usual flippancy. “What’s Allison done now?”

“Actually… it’s not what she did. It’s something she said—back when she was talking about this timeline.”

She blinked once, then fell into that thoughtful stillness she wore when listening seriously.

“She mentioned who was alive here,” he continued. “Did you catch that?”

“Sure. Harlan’s alive. Sloane’s gone, may she rest in peace.” She shrugged.

“And our parents.”

Lila didn’t answer right away. Her gaze flicked toward the floor. “Just like Klaus said,” she muttered, “who cares? They won’t know us here.”

“Well… turns out your parents are more open-minded than I expected.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You contacted them?”

He nodded, cautiously. “It was just a shot in the dark. But yeah. I did.”

She looked like she was trying to decide whether to be pissed off or not. Before giving her enough time to work out which, Five pressed on.

“They named their flower shop ‘Lovely Lilacs’ in this timeline. Apparently after the daughter they never had. So when I called telling them your name and a bit about everything I could without making them think I was a complete lunatic, they actually listened.”

He studied her, gauging her expression.

“If you want to talk to them, they’d like to speak to you.”

Her eyes welled up, suddenly, silently. Her hand went to her face, like she wasn’t sure whether to hold herself together or let it fall apart. She started to chew on her thumb nail.

“If you don’t,” he added, “I’ll tell them I was wrong. That I shouldn’t have reached out. I just didn’t want to tell you unless it amounted to something.”

Lila swallowed thickly. “What are they like?”

“You have your mother’s laugh,” Five said.

“You heard her laugh?” Her voice cracked with a watery sort of disbelief. “You told a joke?”

He almost smiled. “No. She laughed at how absurd it all was. But it sounded just like you.”

A pause.

“When can I speak to them?”

“Now, if you want. It’s only about 7 p.m. over there.”

Her hand trembled as she reached out to him. He handed over his phone, already unlocked, the last number dialled still there on the screen.

She hesitated, thumb hovering—then pressed redial.

The line rang once.

Then twice.

Then—click.

“Hello?”

Chapter Text

No sex.

No fucking.

No love-ma—

Honestly, it didn’t matter what he called it anymore, because it wasn’t going to happen.

How he’d felt that day on the sofa—the desperate urge to close the distance—to change up the rules, that couldn’t happen again.

A new rule, just for him.

Rule nine. Keep it simple.

And wanting to kiss her was anything but simple.

Yes, he’d agreed with himself, that it was time to move on. But the way she looked at him that day… how could it ever be him? Who was he trying to kid? He might’ve been trying to help her, but he was also the root cause of so much. He didn’t want sex out of pity or as some kind of repayment. And he definitely couldn’t make a move while she was this vulnerable—pregnant, jobless, needing a roof over her head.

She might go along with it just to avoid conflict. Just to avoid the risk that saying no would unravel the living arrangement they had built.

Maybe he had just imagined her leaning in. She was just readjusting on the sofa. She did that all the time.

So, keep it simple. Dial it all back. Focus on the practical, day-to-day needs. At least until he could find a way to stop these feelings from floating to the surface, every time he so much as looked in her direction.

Just for now.

Just for a little bit.

How easy would it be to do that by hiding behind a drink?

That’s all he wanted right now—to dull whatever this was. This ache in his chest that was too compelling to just be lust and too early to be love.

Just a drink. Just one?

But drinking would come with consequences.

And so did the only thing which had been keeping him away from the bottle. Nestled in between her, getting drunk off of her scent, her proximity, the sensations. Was that really any better? Being intoxicated off of her rather than a liquid. At least one didn’t give a hangover but both were just as dangerous to give into temptation. Arguably the latter more so than the prior.

Maybe he could just lock himself away.

Stay in his room. Say he needed to study.

She’d come in anyway.

Sit beside him with a book, those dark brown eyes scanning pages while he sat there trying not to watch her lips move as she read. Reading wouldn't be quiet for long, she would start slipping in questions, little jabs and nudges to pull his attention from his writing. Then she’d declare herself bored, fetch her monstrous pillow, take over the bed, and nap beside him. Because apparently, naps were now a shared activity.

Or worse—she’d come back in, strip off, flop onto the pillow with a grin, and wiggle her hips in that way he couldn’t seem to resist.

What would happen if he did resist?

Would she just shrug and nap anyway?

No—he couldn’t hide. Not from her. Not from this. And not when part of him didn’t even want to.

So do other things, he told himself. Sort stuff out for her. Keep busy.

There was plenty to do before the baby arrived. Things he’d convinced himself were too early to worry about—things that had felt miles away, hypothetically. But maybe a distraction was exactly what he needed now.

Buy and build a cot.
Figure out a car.
A car meant a car seat.
A baby carrier.

The baby carrier. That would do, they could go out. Get some fresh air, anything to drag himself from the kitchen counter he was currently leaning against. Anything to be away from that half bottle of whiskey stashed in the cupboard to his left—not calling his name anymore, but screaming it.

“Lila,” he said, pouring what was maybe his third or fourth cup of coffee in the last hour. It was supposed to come out like a question. Instead, it landed flat—blunt.

“Yeah?” She answered casually and he was grateful she hadn't seemed to call him out on his attitude.

He stepped out of the kitchen. She was at the table, journal open, chewing on the end of her pen. She hadn’t woken him last night so if she had a nightmare, mercifully maybe it wasn't too bad.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Well, that’s dangerous,” she quipped.

Five exhaled sharply through his nose. He wasn’t in the mood for banter, not really. But he also couldn’t tell her how much he needed this—to get out of the house before he had a slip-up after almost a month sober. He couldn’t make his problems hers and regardless, it wasn’t like he could explain it anyway.

“Hey, earth to Five! Did I lose you for a sec?”

Shit. His mind had wandered.

“Your journal,” he said, refocusing. “I’ve had an idea which might help.”

He braced for another jab—but it didn’t come. Her teasing expression softened into an expression he assumed was listening.

Perhaps he’d earned that recently. The call with her parents had gone surprisingly well, ending with them agreeing to weekly calls.

“I think you should pick out a baby carrier.”

“Carrier?” She furrowed her brow, working it through. “What, like if the world turns to rubble you can just strap them on and go?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you didn’t have one, you would just use a scarf or a shirt or something—but having one seems sensible. You’ll probably use it regardless.” He then tapped her journal. “Make a list at the back. Of the things you’re afraid of. If there’s something we can prepare for, even one thing, then maybe that will be one less thing to worry about up here.” He tapped his temple.

"I think in another life you might have been a therapist. Always wanting to solve problems and find solutions to things." He watched that small smile curl at her lips. The one she gave when she appreciated something but wouldn’t say it.

"Too selfish for that. I only care about those close to me, otherwise, every man, woman and child for themselves."

"Andddddd back to cold, ruthless Five.”

“Sounds about right…” He moved to get his shoes.

---

Choosing a carrier wasn’t too difficult. Lila found a purple cloth one she liked. She wanted to try it on in the store, but the assistant—who couldn’t have been older than eighteen, styled blonde hair, glasses and nervous smiles—explained that trying it on while pregnant wouldn’t be a good indicator of how it would feel once the baby arrived.

Then he turned to Five.

“We’ve got a demo doll you can use to try it on, if you’d like?” he asked cheerfully.

If death glares could kill—if they could shoot green lasers and leave nothing but ashes behind—then Derek, as his name tag declared, wouldn’t be on this planet anymore.

Five was already halfway through mentally rewriting the laws of physics when Lila shoved him. Playfully, but pointed.

“Go on,” she said. “Just for fun.”

“No,” he said flatly, arms crossed.

She shoved him again. Then came the pout. The plea. The puppy dog eyes.

His twitched in response.

It wasn’t a shove this time—it was a full-on arm rub. Rough, teasing, determined until it broke into a softer motion.

With a long-suffering sigh, Five gave Derek a stiff nod. The assistant brightened and began wrapping the cloth around him, explaining how to adjust the straps, how to shift the weight, how to secure the ‘baby.’ The instructions felt like they were extra complicated on purpose for little to no reason. Five grumbled in response when Derek asked if he had “Got all of that?”

If any of his siblings had seen him like this, standing in a store with a weighted doll strapped to his chest, he might’ve welcomed the laser eyes just to melt his own brain on the spot.

He wasn’t sure if Lila picked the purple wrap because it was the one she liked best, or because she wanted the memory of this—him, wrapped up looking more awkward than he cared for.

When they got home, Lila unwrapped the carrier from the bag slowly, holding it up, then pulling it close to her chest.

“It’s the first thing that’s been bought for her,” she said softly.

Five blinked. Technically, the pillow she used was for both of them but if this was what she wanted to count as the baby’s first item, he wasn’t going to argue. Especially not when he had a drawer upstairs with three folded baby grows he hadn’t told her about yet. A gift he didn’t know how to offer anymore. Maybe saving them for when the baby actually arrived was for the best.

“I guess the little one will need some clothes, too,” she followed on, almost as if she could read his mind.

He’d expected her to light up at the thought, to start rambling about colours or patterns or how tiny the socks would be—but her face dimmed. Her hands tightened around the wrap.

“I really thought I’d have a job by now.”

He could hear the guilt in her voice before she even said it.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I got knocked up and you’re the one paying for it. Literally.”

“Just remember me fondly when I’m old and decrepit then,” he said, trying to joke. But it didn’t land. Her face didn’t even twitch. He felt it, his words came out sharper than intended to put some distance back in-between them because the answer was, he didn’t mind helping her out and would continue to do so for as long as she needed.

“Really not funny, Five. How’s the aging going, anyway?”

He shrugged and made for the kitchen, flicking on the coffee pot again.

Maybe it was time to switch to decaf—then again—what was the point of coffee if it isn’t for the caffeine?

---

The next evening, she asked him the question he was starting to dread.

The invite back to her room.

He stared down at his notepad, pen in hand. He’d made a small dent in what he wanted to write, but it wasn’t going anywhere—and it certainly wasn’t going anywhere now.

“I’m a bit tired.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. He was tired—just not of writing, not of her, and definitely not of sex. He was tired of how he was feeling. Tired of being in his own head.

“You’ve been at that all day. You could use a break.” She leaned against the bottom stair, casual but hopeful. He avoided looking at her and glanced at his watch instead. When had he last eaten?

“How about dinner?”

“Well, I could think of something you could eat.”
He could hear the grin in her voice. That teasing edge, the one she used when she expected him to rise to the bait.

But he kept his eyes down, fixed on the watch on his wrist like it might suddenly fast-forward him out of the moment. If he looked at her now, he wasn’t sure what he’d say. Or worse, what he’d give away.

He didn’t answer. Just let the silence stretch. Long enough for the air to change.

Eventually, he heard her shift, stepping down off the stair. Her feet soft against the floor.

“Sure,” she said quietly, “I can start on dinner.”

It wasn’t teasing anymore. It was something else—flat, almost disappointed. Like she’d offered something and it had gone unnoticed.

Five pressed the end of his pen hard into the palm of his hand. A sharp jab.

“No,” Five pushed up from table, and the chair scraped as it was pushed back. “I didn’t mean make dinner. I meant—shall we go out for dinner?”

“Seriously?” Her voice had risen again but sounding slightly suspicious of him. “What about the food in the fridge?”

Five made his way to the kitchen and checked.

The beef would expire today. It wouldn’t be wasted if it was frozen.

He tossed it into the freezer.

“Sorted. Now—what do you fancy?”

He watched how her face lit up. How she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned to grab her shoes.

When was the last time they ate out? Must have been on the road trip.

He groaned internally when her back was turned. The invitation came out when he heard her disappointment but was dinner really any better than just going upstairs? If anything, it was semi new territory. Which meant it had the potential to be worse.

And it was worse.

The place she picked had tables far too small. Their knees brushed constantly under the table—hers pressed against his, lingering. He tried to shift, to readjust, but no matter how he moved, they kept colliding.

He wasn’t even sure where the conversation was half the time. When she caught him zoning out and asked what he was thinking about, he muttered that his mind was still on his paper. But she must have noticed, how his eyes drifted each time a waiter walked past with a tray full of drinks. Real drinks, not like the lemonade he had been sipping at.

He noticed her change her tactics, to start asking about the thesis, saying that talking about it might help.

It was an easy conversation, a safe one too but it didn’t help. If anything, he could feel how cold and detached the conversation was compared to even a few days ago.

And he felt shit for it.

---

The next day, Five went to different car dealership from before and bought a sensible five-door car. Low millage and a reasonable price. A decent size trunk for filling up on supplies and water or potentially pushchair if needed.

It was across town and took a couple of bus rides to get to.

He didn’t ask Lila to come with him.

When he returned, keys in hand, she looked a little taken aback—surprised he’d gone, more surprised he hadn’t told her. He tried to brush it off, said it was a quick in-and-out, said she was still asleep when he left and he didn’t want to disturb her.

She nodded, but he could tell. She was ticked off.

That was fair.

He was pissed off with himself too.

---

After dinners, he found himself ignoring the empty seat beside her on the sofa, rather locking eyes with reference books he wasn’t really reading, or pacing the kitchen looking as though he was deep in thought about quantum physics—when in truth, he was more frustrated that he couldn’t even allow himself to sit and watch their gameshow together.

Instead, he found excuses to retreat to his room several times a day, always staying just a little too long.

The new routine was only a few days in, but he could already feel the self-hatred ramping up a notch.

---

“So, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Five blinked, looking up from his book. He had finally been able to claim his spot on the sofa as she was upstairs. He didn’t think she was going to come back or he would have retreated to his room like the other evenings.

Lila was staring at him with a mix of frustration and suspicion, her arms crossed and her foot tapping against the floor. He let out a sigh, and braced for the conversation he knew was coming.

“Huh?” he said, narrowing his eyes. “What are you on about now?” He feigned innocent, pretending to be unaware of how much he had been pushing her away.

“You’ve been acting weird all week,” she shot back, her tone sharp.

He rolled his eyes, leaning back into the sofa burying his nose once more into his book. “Maybe I’m just stressing about getting this right. If this theory works, it will be the difference between needing to take night school at college or jumping straight into university.”

Her glare hardened. “I get that. But you know what is great for a stress relief? The one thing you’ve been avoiding. It’s been a week, Five.”

“And?” He arched a brow.

“Seriously, Five. You’ve been weird since you felt her kick,” Lila said with the same tone until it shifted into something lower, gentler. “You know you can’t hurt her, right? I know some guys get funny about that.”

“I’m fully aware of that fact,” he said flatly, going back to his book as if the conversation was over.

“So what is it then?”

She wasn’t letting go.

“Nothing.”

“Right. Nothing.” Her voice was growing louder again, more biting. “So that’s it now? You want nothing from me?”

He groaned, snapping his book shut. “Where do you come up with these ridiculous, argumentative conversations in your head?”

“Oh, so now I’m just crazy?”

“Not now. You’ve always been crazy,” he said, gesturing vaguely in her direction. “You’re just slightly crazier than usual at the moment. Hormones, I assume.”

“Oh you’re one to talk at the moment!” Lila snapped, raising a hand in exasperation as she turned toward the stairs. “If you don’t want me, then I’ll go and take care of things myself.”

Five stood. His actions happening before he had words to form on his tongue. His eye spasmed, his lips spreading into a thin line. Words were forming in his brain but nothing usable.

You’re wrong. He wanted to let out. I want everything from you but it doesn’t work like that.

Lila had stopped and stared as soon as she heard him move. He couldn’t tell if that look was reading him, seeing his mind racing or just waiting to see if he would respond. He watched as she raised a finger at him, clearly about to unleash hell but instead, she let out an angry huff and stomped upstairs, slamming the door behind her.

Five fingers combed through his hair, down the back of his head, until he gave himself a hard squeeze on the back of his neck. He turned back around staring blankly at the book on the sofa. He willed himself to sit back down, pick up the book and just read but his mind replayed the argument. He played it over in his head, kicking himself for making her feel unwanted.

Groaning, he picked up the book before tossing it onto the table. A childish act. “Get it together, old man,” he muttered, staring at the stairs before making his way up.

Five knocked on the door, hesitating only briefly before calling out. “Lila—”

“Fuck off,” came her sharp reply.

He sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Lila, I—”

“Seriously, Five,” she cut him off. “Unless you’ve come here to fuck, just go away.”

Five froze, momentarily dumbfounded. She still wanted to? He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Hormones really are running the show today.” After a moment of indecision, he turned the doorhandle and stepped inside.

“Let me explain,” he started, his tone more tentative.

“No need to,” Lila snapped, glaring at him from where she sat on the bed. “I already know you’re a total bellend. Now are you going to put it to use or leave?”

“What on earth has gotten into you today?” he asked, his voice tinged with exasperation.

“Gotten into me? I’m pregnant Five! What’s your excuse?!” She shot back, as if that explained everything. “I’m nearly at the end of the second trimester. Everything’s going to get harder soon—breathing, moving, sleeping, everything. So let me enjoy these last few weeks while I still can!”

Five blinked at her outburst, and before he could stop himself, the word slipped out. “Fine.”

He mentally cursed himself as soon as he said it.

“Well, good!” she huffed, turning back to the bed. She grabbed her pillow and started to adjust it accordingly.

“I’m done doing it from behind,” he declared firmly.

Stop talking.

Lila paused looking at him. “Can’t have you bouncing on top either. What do you suggest?”

Five climbed onto the bed, his expression calm but with a flicker of something more behind his eyes. “On your side, facing me.” 

Rule nine Five!

Wasting no time Lila pushed the pillow to the side and sat up straight, tugging at the hem of her top. 

“Stop.” 

She paused, one eyebrow raised. “What now? Don’t even want to see me topless anymore?” 

“You said there was a lesson in undressing,” he replied, his voice steady but low.

“Oh?” She shifted slightly as she turned to him. “And are you going to let me do it to you?” 

“Yes...” The word came out almost as a whisper, as if he were admitting something far more vulnerable than consent. 

Lila narrowed her eyes playfully. “Careful, Five. You’re breaking your own rules.” 

More than she knows. Fuck rule nine.

Five’s gaze met hers briefly before dropping, his attention shifting to the bottom of her top. His fingers brushed against the fabric, pushing it upwards, slowly. As his knuckles grazed the curve of her belly, he lingered, letting the contact feel intentional rather than incidental. He could tell that the movement didn’t go unnoticed by Lila but he was grateful she didn’t say anything.

When the fabric bunched above her rounded stomach, his hand paused, smoothing over the swell. He had wanted to do this again all week. To feel that little flutter beneath his palm.

He hadn’t asked for permission to do this. Hypocrite, moaning at Diego for not doing so, then this?

Five scrunched his eyes for a moment, picturing her face. Eyebrows knitting together, mouth taut. As he went to pull his hand away, his eyes opened again feeling her hand on top of his, moving it slightly.

Then he felt it, the bounce of her belly against his hand.

He didn’t look up to see Lila’s reaction, but he felt the subtle shift in her breathing, a warmth in the space between them, returning, blowing out the cold stale air which surrounded them only moments ago. Pushing onward, Five hand drifted back up her tummy and tugged her top the rest of the way over her head, discarding it over the side of the bed.

Shifting slightly closer, he trailed his hand lightly up her arm, until he reached her shoulder, his fingers curling around the strap of her bra. The motion was slow. He let the strap slip from her shoulder, where it dangled loosely, and in the same moment, his free hand moved to the clasp at her back. He unclipped it in a single motion, his fingers deft and unerring. No hesitation, no fumbling.

“Where the hell did you learn that?” she asked, her tone suspicious yet intrigued. 

“It’s the one thing I had practice with…” The words sounded hollow coming out of his mouth.

He could see the realisation hit her as Lila blinked. The reason he didn't want to do this before. It was the only intimate thing he could fool himself into being real with Dolores. The lesson he called it, just now, was a cover up.

He didn't need anything from her on this.

She could have teased him mercilessly, how he played dress up with nothing but an oversize doll but the reality of that seemed to silence her instead. He watched as she reached for the hem of his plain t-shirt, her eyes locking with his as she slowly pulled it up and over his head. Her gaze was kind, understanding maybe, that this moment meant far more to him than he’d ever admit aloud.

“How can you go from grumpy asshole to... this?” Lila asked softly as his hand shifted, settling on her hip, the edge of his palm resting lightly against the curve of her bump.

“I could say the same thing about you,” Five replied with a dry laugh, though his tone carried a hint of defeat. “I’m just frustrated.”

“Yeah I know, stupid paper. We can make you forget about it for a bit yeah?” She was being flippant.

She must have sensed it too, that the essay wasn’t the only thing which was trying him.

“You know that it’s not just that.”

“Sure, but trying to work it out with you could be a very long list,” Lila said, her tone flat.

“It’s very short, actually.”

“It better not be,” she warned lightly. “We agreed—if it got complicated, we’d call it quits.”

“Then call it,” Five challenged, his eyes not straying for hers for a second.

This was it, he was done, he couldn’t pretend anymore. Running away all week from being intimate, to avoid this exact conversation, was exhausting. He was exhausted.

“You’re confusing getting off with something else,” she countered.

“Call it,” he repeated, quieter this time, tenderly spoken, repeating her way out, if she wanted it.

They stared at each other, lying on their sides. Neither moved to pull away, to say stop, or to declare it was over. It felt like a stalemate, their stubbornness or maybe uncertainty holding them there, stuck in place.

Then, Lila’s hand found his hip and pulled him toward her with a deliberate tug. Five faltered for a fraction of a second, his eyes locked on hers, searching for some kind of signal—any sign that she wanted to stop. But her grip only tightened, urging him closer, as the space continued to disappear.

He leaned in and dipped his head, pressing a safe kiss to her breast, his lips trailing down until they found her nipple. His hand followed, cupping her, whilst his tongue flicked over before he began to suck.

He felt her hand slid into the back of his hair, fingers intwining into the strands. There was a pull, a warning to be gentle to the over sensitive area. The tug was released as he went back to kissing, her fingers now twirling hair, caressing his scalp. He could understand why cats purred and dogs wagged their tails in that moment and he had no urge to recoil from it.

His other hand moved to the waistband of her trousers, fumbling slightly as the curve of her bump made the task awkward. He didn’t stop though, working the button free with focus while still kissing her skin. A small thought flickered in the back of his mind—she needed something more comfortable to wear. Something that wouldn’t dig in like this.

With her trousers finally undone, Five pulled back, sliding them down carefully. His knuckles grazed her thighs as he worked, the fabric slipping away inch by inch.

Once her trousers were gone, his touch travelled back up, sliding over her hips, finding the edge of her underwear. He eased them down, his movements unhurried, almost reverent.

She was naked in front of him. As she had been countless times before—but it felt different. This was his doing.

Her hands rested on his chest before sliding down his torso towards his trousers. It felt like she was lighting a match with her fingers against his skin. His breath hitched and his eyes fluttered closed as he heard her undoing his belt, felt the button pop open, and the soft sound of the zip sliding down.

As his trousers shuffled down, her hands returned to his pants, pulling them down, freeing his already hard erection. He didn’t want Lila to have to go all the way down to pull everything off, so he kicked his clothes aside, pushing them off the bed with the bottom of his foot.

They moved closer, her leg draped over his hip. His fingers ran along the outside of her thigh before curving around, sliding towards her core.

Everything was soaking, slick. Had undressing her been as much of a turn-on for her as it had been for him?

Her hand dipped between them, helping him line up. Her head rested on his shoulder while she peered down between their bodies.

It was easier than he’d expected for them to fit together. He’d assumed there would be more awkward repositioning to make it work, but once his tip aligned with her, a small thrust was all it took to sink in.

It was different. There was a bump to consider, so his thrusts were slow at first. One arm curled beneath her, gripping her shoulder, while the other held her thigh steady over his waist. Their breaths mingled—every quick inhale, sigh, moan caught and tangled between them.

He picked up the pace slightly, trying to feel those first trembles under his fingers. He kept the rhythm steady, testing it. Waiting to see if anything would build. One of her hands rested against his neck, the other on his chest.

He glanced down—the bump pressing between their bodies. It wasn’t impossible for her to reach her clit, but it wouldn’t be easy.

Stop thinking about everything else. Focus on her.

He adjusted her leg, hiking it a little higher, angling deeper. A small gasp escaped her lips—but it was just that. A sound. Not a reaction that echoed in her body.

“What... do you need?” he rasped, his eyes lifting to hers.

“I don’t know… Five… it feels… good, but it’s just not… there…”

He watched her neck, the pulse flickering beneath the skin. He’d imagined sinking his teeth into it so many times. He swallowed hard, fighting the urge.

“Can I… bite your neck?” he asked, voice tight.

She didn’t answer. He looked to her face. Her eyes were shut tight. Maybe she was building something up in her mind, chasing it down. But if she was, it wasn’t showing.

He changed tactics. Slowed his hips. Long, deliberate strokes. A sound escaped her then—a soft, breathy moan.

His focus shifted again. Not her neck now. Her lips. Parted, dry. Mouthing something. No—saying it.

“Okay.”

It was barely a whisper, but it was enough. His mouth found her neck, his teeth grazing her skin before biting wide, letting his tongue flick over the muscle. This time, a much louder moan escaped her. Encouraged, he bit, licked, and sucked a bit higher. Again and again until he met her jaw. He planted a feather-light kiss there before pulling back.

Her eyes were tightly closed, brow furrowed, almost looking frustrated. So he went back to her neck, eliciting the same sounds as before. He felt the light trembles of her thigh beneath his hand. His grip tightened as he continued the same assault on her neck, trailing it upward. Once again, one last kiss to her jaw—he swore he heard a soft sound. He tested it. One more. Again, a sound—almost like a soft whimper. He planted another along the jawline, another pleasant noise. The next was just off to the side of her chin.

Then, his lips met hers.

The movement stopped. Everything stopped.

He hadn’t meant to—hadn’t planned to—but his subconscious had won. He’d lost control, lost his restraint.

His eyes opened slowly, their breaths still mingling, as they flicked between hers. There was barely an inch between them when Lila suddenly pulled back. When his gaze met hers again, a frown was already forming as her eyes darted between his.

“What the hell was that?”

It wasn’t bitter or angry—maybe just confused. Searching.

Five swallowed hard. “I thought—”

“I thought we were almost about to break this off, not break the rules further!”

Shit, was that panic in her voice?

He was wrong. He had got this all wrong.

She was right. Either he’d confused love with lust, or maybe he hadn’t—but he’d confused her lust for something else. He went to loosen his grip, to let go of her leg, to let her slide off and retreat.

He wasn’t holding her leg anymore. So why did she stay?

“Lil—”

Before he could finish, Lila’s hand moved up his chest to cup his face, bringing him in.

This time, it was her lips that found his—and it was different. Slower. She caught his top lip first, tentative, almost testing the shape of him. Then her mouth moved to the bottom one, pulling it gently.

He parted his lips to meet her, kissing her back with the same cautious tenderness. Then he felt her tongue—just a flick at first, a request he met without hesitation. His mouth opened, welcoming her in. Suddenly, it wasn’t cautious anymore as their tongues pushed, wrestled, tasted, claimed.

The kiss was messy and uncoordinated, teeth clashing on occasion—but the rawness of it seemed to ignite something in her.

He felt it.

The heel of her foot pestering the back of his leg, wordlessly urging him to move again.

He obliged.

Picking up from where he had left off.

Her body clenched around him, her breath hitching between their frantic kisses. The change was immediate; her moans deepened, her movements grew erratic as she rode the edge.

“That’s it,” she whispered against his lips, voice trembling. “Don’t stop.”

Five tightened his hold on her hip, keeping his rhythm steady as she finally tipped over the edge, her body shuddering in his arms. He let go too, finishing at the same time as her, both of them panting into each other’s mouths.

When the moment passed, Lila’s hand loosened from his face, and she pulled back slightly, her breathing uneven.

He could feel how wide his smile was. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. Pride was beaming from him. He’d managed to get her to orgasm—no hands, nothing but his body working with hers.

“Well,” she muttered, still catching her breath. “Guess we can add kissing to the list of cans—along with undressing—for sex, then, huh.”

He caught it. For sex.

That’s all it was to her? After that?

It hadn’t changed anything. Not to her, anyway. Just made their friends-with-benefits thing more... standard. What it would’ve been from the start if he hadn’t been so pathetically bound by his no-touch rules—which were gone now anyway. Broken like the rest of his self-control.

He stared at her, chest still rising and falling, the taste of her still on his tongue.

This wasn’t going to be the moment they talked. Wasn’t going to be the moment they acknowledged what just happened meant something. Because it clearly didn't. Not to her.

But to him?

To him, he had fallen. So much for burying those feelings. For doing nothing with them until he’d sorted out his head. Until he was sure.

But this wasn’t the moment they kissed again.

It was the moment he pulled out, rolled over, grabbed his clothes, and left—like every other time.

He closed his eyes. Just for a moment. Trying to gather himself. Just one more breath to steady his pulse. One more second to listen to the soft rise and fall of her breathing.

“You falling asleep, Five?” Her voice came light, teasing. That familiar tone. “Not gonna break the only rule we have left, are you?”

“Why not, at this point,” he muttered, barely audible.

He felt her shift, pulling away, the warmth of her skin retreating. His eyes opened slowly—to find the back of her head now facing him.

He thought that was it. She was closing off.

But then, without warning, her hand found his arm and tugged it around her. Guided him back in. His hand came to rest across her, tucking itself under her hip.

"Well," she said, settling against him, “if you’re gonna stay... the least you could do is be the big spoon.”

He was too mentally and physically beat to unpack that—what it meant, what it didn’t.

So instead, he found that spot on her shoulder again—the one he once chalked up to drunken affection—and placed another small, careful kiss there.

He could have sworn her hand tightened on top of his, ever so slightly.

Chapter Text

The sudden shift beside him startled Five awake. Lila was carefully easing his arm off her before slipping out of bed—probably for a bathroom break.

He rolled onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling where the warm glow of the lamp blended with the cool silver of the moonlight streaming through the window.

He should move. Now was the moment to slip back to his own bed, if he was going to.

But his body didn’t listen—still caught in a sleep-dazed state. By the time he’d blinked himself slightly more awake, she was already back, sliding under the covers with her back to him. She curled toward the pillow, hugging it close.

Five pulled the duvet higher over them both and, without much thought for once, let his arm settle around her waist again. His eyes fluttered shut, but sleep didn’t come. He could feel her—shifting minutely, trying to get comfortable or something.

He opened his eyes again, peering over her shoulder.

He sighed inwardly, realising his habit of sleeping on the right, meant Lila was facing the lamp directly.

“Turn it off,” he mumbled, voice heavy with sleep.

“It’s fine. I just need a minute to get used to the sun blaring at me,” she said. She sounded tired, but not annoyed.

Five let go of her, leaned over and flicked the switch. Darkness returned, except for the moonlight. He nestled back into place behind her.

But now she was stiff beneath his arm.

It made sense. They had only lived here for a few weeks before he’d pulled a knife on her in the middle of the night. Why should she trust his arm wouldn’t move from her waist to her throat?

“Look,” he said quietly. He raised his left hand, popping it out from the duvet, checking his watch. “2:06 a.m. If I can read that in this lighting, I can see you. I can see everything. The moon’s enough tonight.”

Lila was quiet for a moment before asking, “And if you have a nightmare?”

“I think we both know that won’t happen.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Same reason you haven’t had one tonight either.” He murmured into her back, giving her waist a light squeeze.

She said nothing but he felt her tension drop, maybe even leaning back into him slightly more.

---

He couldn’t tell what had helped him sleep so deeply—was it the absence of the lamp, finally sparing his nerves the harsh glow? Or maybe it was the release, the first in a week, something he hadn’t realised he’d been that desperate for. Or maybe it was simpler than that—maybe it was just having his arm around her.

He hadn’t done this before, like this, being the ‘big spoon’. That had always been Dolores. Back then, he used to place her arm over him, giving the illusion of presence, something to press against in the dark so he didn’t feel so alone.

But this—this was different.

He could barely remember their night in Hotel Oblivion—too drunk to piece it together—but he remembered pulling Lila into his side, stopping her from slipping away immediately. He remembered the heat of her body against his, how strange and grounding it felt before he passed out.

This was on a whole other level.

He had to fight the urge to let his hand roam her body, to press his face into the curve of her neck, to pull her tighter until they were completely flush, not an inch of space between them anywhere. Instead, he stayed as still as possible, breathing with her, tracking the slow rise and fall of her side beneath his arm.

Well—almost as still as possible. He couldn’t help what he’d woken up with, or the involuntary twitches that pressed against her.

Five heard a quiet huff of amusement, barely audible but impossible to miss. She was awake and clearly aware.

“Morning,” she murmured, giving her hips a small, deliberate wiggle back against him. “And morning to you too.”

Five loosened his grip, slightly flustered, but to his surprise, she rolled over to face him.

“Is this going to be your typical method for waking me up?” she asked, eyes playful, a teasing smile curving her lips.

He stared at her mouth, momentarily caught.

“So,” she continued, voice dipping lower, her hand trailing slowly down his chest until it wrapped around his member. “You want help with that—or are you just gonna let it go to waste?”

His breath hitched as her fingers began to stroke him, teasingly.

“Or…”

Or?

That got his attention. His eyes flicked up from her lips to her eyes, narrowing slightly, his head tilting in question.

“Or what?”

“You were the one all stressed out about writing,” she murmured, the corner of her mouth tugging upward. “No time like the present.”

“I’ll skip breakfast,” he exhaled, the sound caught somewhere between a sigh and a moan as her strokes grew firmer, more rhythmic. He shifted closer, his head leaving his pillow for hers, noses nearly touching. His eyes fluttered shut.

“You better not take that long,” she warned, smirking as she continued the rhythm. “My wrist will give out before you do.”

“Heh…” He gave a lopsided grin causing their noses to brush. It felt like forever since they’d had this—this kind of teasing ease.

“Or…” he added, voice low with a smile in it.

But she didn’t echo him.

Instead, she pushed gently at his shoulder, coaxing him flat onto his back. Her hand never left him, stroking him even as she shifted to straddle his thighs. Then her touch disappeared, only for him to feel her warmth glide slowly along his length as she ground against him.

“Or… I’m hungry,” she murmured, “and I may as well speed this up.”

“Confident much?” he asked, raising a brow.

“I can get you to finish before I do,” she shot back matter-of-fact, a hand pressing to his shoulder for balance whilst her other reached down between them.

“After last night, I wouldn’t be so sure,” he muttered, smugness curling at his mouth—but the expression shattered into a low moan the moment he felt her sink onto him, warmth swallowing him whole.

Lila exhaled like it had caught her off guard too. She rolled her hips slowly at first, adjusting, chasing that perfect angle. Five’s hands found her hips, guiding her.

She set a pace—steady, unhurried at first, grinding down as he pushed up just enough to meet her. Her fingers curled tighter against his shoulders, nails lightly grazing his skin. She leaned in a little more, letting the motion grow messier, less measured. The sound of skin, breath, and quiet gasps filled the room.

Five’s grip tightened as he began to thrust up harder, matching her pace, making her moan low in her throat. His eyes fluttered shut but opened again quickly—he didn’t want to miss a second of her, flushed and riding him like she had something to prove.

“Fuck, Lila…” he groaned as her walls clenched around him.

She gave a breathless laugh, her rhythm faltering just slightly from the rush of sensation. “Still so sure you’ll outlast me?”

“I’m holding out,” he said, jaw tight.

“For what?”

“For this.”

He sat up suddenly, one arm wrapping tight around her back as he thrust up hard, stealing a breathy gasp from her lips—only to smother it with his own.

The kiss was hungry. Not tender, not slow. Desperate.

Lila moaned into his mouth, and he returned it, loud and unfiltered, the moment taking over his entire body. Both arms locked around her, holding her so close it almost hurt, chasing something bigger than just release. It hit him in his chest even before it reached his groin.

She came first, her cry swallowed by his mouth, her body trembling against him. He followed seconds later, hips jerking beneath her, still kissing, still clinging, still fighting for more even as it all began to unwind.

Lila pulled back to catch her breath, but Five leaned in and stole another kiss—a quick peck this time, soft, almost sweet. They looked at each other for a second. Dazed smiles, brains over taken by endorphins.

Eventually, Five leaned back against the mattress, his hands drifting lazily over her back, down her stomach, her thighs. But the touch wasn’t allowed to linger—she was already shifting off him the same way her expression had too.

He felt his stomach fold. Wasn’t sure what he expected. That she would have curled back into his side? Rested her head on his chest? Let him tuck a strand of hair behind her ear?

Instead, she got off of him—and off the bed in one motion.

“Lila—”

“I’m gonna hit the shower.”

She was halfway to the door when his voice caught her again.

“Lila, are we going to talk about this?”

She paused, glancing over her shoulder, one hand resting the doorframe.

Steadying herself?

“What’s there to talk about?” Her voice was too light, too breezy. “We had sex. We kissed. Congrats, you got me to orgasm again. Want a medal, a sticker saying well done?”

“C’mon—”

Five sat up, legs swinging over the edge of the bed as if to follow her, but her voice cut him off before he could stand.

“What’s there to talk about?” she repeated, but sharper now. “We fuck like rabbits. Different rules, sure, but same endgame. Enjoy it while we still can, yeah? Before she’s here.”

That stopped him mid movement just in time to watch her turning her head away and stepping down the hall, into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind her.

Five sat there, staring after her, heart still thudding—not from the sex anymore, but from something colder. Something that lodged itself just under his ribs.

We won’t have time after that.

Did she just put an expiry date on all of this?

---

Downstairs, the coffee pot dripped steady while Five gathered his two notebooks. Thoughts and theories were scrawled messily across both—half ideas, diagrams no one else would understand. It was time to turn the chaos into something coherent.

He briefly wondered if he could still find a typewriter somewhere—something of a comfort—but he knew the answer. He needed a computer. It would make researching universities easier as well as getting his paper to one. With terms starting in September and it already being the end of July, he was cutting it close. Realistically, he was probably looking at the next academic year, but there was a small chance that exceptional circumstances would earn him a fast track.

He needed something. He still wasn’t sure what he would do after it but he’d seen how hard it was for Lila to get a foot in the door with no paper trail—why would it be any different for him?

Footsteps creaked on the stairs.

He poured himself a mug of coffee and dropped two slices of bread into the toaster just as Lila entered the kitchen.

“Really? Couldn’t have thrown a couple of extra slices in?”

Five raised the mug to his lips and glanced at the toaster over the rim. “They’re for you.”

“Oh. Well. Good.” She said, sounding slightly taken back.

“Skipping breakfast remember?” He tried a half smile but instead slight annoyance flared. “I’m just popping out.”

“Popping out? So, back to ignoring me then.”

He set the mug down with a soft clink. “Right… You don’t think walking out of the room right after what happened upstairs counts as ignoring me?” He leaned back against the counter, hands in his pockets.

He hadn’t been confrontational with her for a while.

Silence stretched between them, thick and awkward, until the toaster popped.

Five turned, plating up the toast, wondering if he’d gone too far. Was it fair? If he couldn’t even name the knot of feelings tangling up in his own head, was it really reasonable to expect her to unpack hers out loud?

He sighed and passed her the plate.

“I’m heading to a coffee shop,” he said finally. “Number my notes, write them back out and  get my head straight. Then library. Gonna try to type all this up, research which universities will even look at someone like me. See if I can send anything off.”

She paused mid-bite. “Are you telling me just so I know or are you offering I can tag along?”

“You can come. But no questions. No poking. No throwing balled-up notes at my head.”

“Humpth.” He could hear it in her tone, blowing off what he just said in a Lila like fashion.

“I’m serious. You’re many things, Lila. Quiet isn’t one of them.”

“Okay, okay.” She agreed, continuing to eat her toast while Five glanced back down at his notes, making a mental checklist of what to order and number first. He drained the last of his coffee.

“I’ll bring a book. Where’s the pregnancy one again?”

“Upstairs. My room. Nightstand,” he answered automatically, distracted—his brain halfway through trying to remember what he meant by the scribble in the corner of a diagram.

A few seconds ticked by before he froze.

Wait.

Did I just tell her to go into my room?

He looked up, but she was already gone.

Shit. Did I say top drawer?

She’d taken off like a shot—faster than she’d moved in weeks—clearly relishing the excuse to rifle through his things. What was worse, he had technically, given her permission to. It wasn’t like he could dash after her, it would cause even more suspicion, more questions.

His pulse picked up.

After last night, after this morning, what if she found them?

But would it matter?

It’s not like she had been willing to discuss anything. Why would this be any different? She would likely see them and say nothing. But for him, it kept feeling like she was seeing all his cards, but she was keeping hers close to her chest. Or maybe she wasn’t even playing the same game.

Before his thoughts could unravel anymore, she was back.

Book in hand. Face casual.

“All set?”

“Sure,” he said, voice tighter than he intended. He grabbed his notebooks and walked toward the door, resisting the urge to glance at her, to check her face once more for any telltale signs.

---

Starting at the coffee shop had seemed like a good idea. At first, at least.

Lila was happily eating for two—via two different cakes. One of which had technically been his until he made the critical mistake of picking up his coffee before securing it. She commandeered it without hesitation, rubbing her belly with exaggerated pride and declaring, “One for each.”

The staff laughed and, amused by the whole thing, brought over a third slice unprompted.

To Lila’s credit, aside from the dessert heist, she didn't distract him again—at least not deliberately. Five pulled out his two notebooks, ripped a few blank pages from the newer one, and began the task of organising everything into a workable structure.

Lila had her pregnancy book open and was actually reading quietly. Occasionally, when Five frowned in frustration, flipping through a section of notes without finding what he needed, he’d feel a gentle nudge under the table. Her knee, brushing his.

He didn’t flinch away like last week at dinner, when her touches had turned into some strange avoidance dance on his part under the table. Instead, this time, he let their legs rest together. Pressed, but relaxed. Every time he glanced up to catch her in the act, she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes stayed glued to the page, mouth moving as she silently mouthed the words she read.

At least things seemed less heated than this morning.

Maybe going out together was what she needed. Just some company.

She wasn’t wrong, he had ignored her for the best part of a week.

After a couple of hours, several coffees and decaf teas later, Five tapped his papers on the table to align them, satisfied enough with the rough draft. When he looked up, Lila was no longer reading. Her book lay closed beside her, and instead, she was hunched over a blank page that she must have nabbed when he wasn’t paying attention, doodling what appeared to be cats.

Dozens of them—tiny, smug-looking scribbles with different expressions.

“Got it?” she asked, finishing what he assumed was the last whisker before capping the pen and meeting his eyes.

“Think so. Time for the library. Need to type this up.”

“Can’t wait to see you poke at the keyboard with a single finger.”

“There’s no difference between a typewriter and a computer.”

“Sure,” she smirked. “But I can totally picture fifty-three-year-old you getting handed a typewriter for the first time and needing a full day to type out a file.”

Five huffed. He tried to look unimpressed, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

“Thankfully, Dot was an excellent touch-typing instructor.”

---

At the library, Five made his way back over to the computers, finding the one tucked in the quietest corner, as Lila perched on the neighbouring chair, spinning lazily once or twice before scooting closer in. She leaned over his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck.

He was imagining it, right? Her being closer, acting warmer. She was just being more like her usual self, invading personal space. It only felt off because he had chosen not to hang around her recently.

“You know,” Five began, his tone clipped as he stared at the screen, “it’s going to take me a while to type all of this up. Longer with you looming over me.”

Lila groaned, pushing herself up with a huff. “Fine! I’ll go look at applying for some jobs or something”

“What about a GED?” he asked, getting his papers lined up on his desk.

“Huh?” Her brow arched, lips slightly parted in confusion.

“I was just thinking,” he said, as he opened up word, “you were saying it’s been hard to get anywhere with job interviews lately. Maybe try a different approach. It’s a high school equivalency diploma—basically an alternative to the usual one. From what I’ve seen, it’s a computer-based test that assesses your knowledge to a high school level.”

“I’ve never been any good at taking exams, Five.” She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing in that way that she only did when she was annoyed with herself.

“Right, but you’re also fluent in several languages, you pick up on my math without even trying, and you’ve got a decent grasp of science. I’d bet you’ve got an interesting history knowledge too—what with the whole jumping around time thing.” He paused, watching her face for a reaction. “It’s quick. Three to six months on average.”

Her arms didn’t untighten but he could see it in her eyes that she was at least considering it now.

“I came across it while looking into this whole paper thing,” he added more casually, trying to soften the pitch. “Not saying you have to do it—just an option. Something you could tackle before the little one gets here and your brain turns to baby mush.”

“Excuse me?” Her tone was sharp, feigning offence, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile.

“Baby brain. It’s a thing. Chapter twenty-three in your book or something.”

She sighed dramatically and fished the parenting book out of her bag, flipping it open with a pout as she scanned the chapter titles.

“Just something to think about,” Five muttered, eyes drifting back to his notes as his fingers started tapping away at the keyboard.

Lila appeared to be looking up the GED but after a while and a few spins more on the chair, she wandered off, disappearing down aisles of dusty shelves only to return and start the cycle again. She didn’t outright disturb him, but leaned over from time to time, seeming to be checking on his word count more than anything.

That was, until she paused.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lean in once more, her head resting lightly on his shoulder as her eyes scanned the screen.

“‘Photons, though commonly understood as both particles and waves, may be forcibly collapsed into defined particle trajectories during a controlled teleportation event—’” she read aloud, brow furrowing. “Hold on. What?”

Five leaned back in his chair, taking the moment to stretch his arms out to the sides. “Collapse them. Into a fixed trajectory. It’s temporary—but it works.”

“You can’t just say that.”

“Oh? Why not?” he replied, tilting his head to the side with mild disbelief but intrigued.

“Because! That sentence breaks physics!” She gestured to the screen as if it were personally offending her. “You’re saying you can force photons to behave like particles on command, through teleportation, and then you just—move on with your next paragraph like that’s normal.”

“Well, it was normal. Back when I could do it, anyway.”

“Sure, and I get that you’re trying to show them something they don’t know yet—but that’s not how writing a paper works.”

“But it’s correct. I want to show them there are other ways to look at things.”

“You might be right,” she said, finally sitting properly beside him again, “but they don’t know that yet. You can’t just skip four steps and expect these people to just go, ‘Oh brilliant, that makes perfect sense, cheers mysterious genius man.’”

“I can if they’re smart.”

“Five…” she said in that warning tone that only Lila had truly mastered. “Start at the basics and build on it. You can give them a revolutionary idea, but you’ve got to prove you know everything else that comes before it. Pretend you're not someone who’s already invented it. Be someone who's just trying to discover it.”

Five sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping a little. He didn’t want to admit she was right—but she certainly wasn’t wrong.

“So what, build a bridge between their primitive understanding and my clearly superior one?” He said sarcastically.

“Exactly!” she grinned, triumphant. “Bridge it! You can’t shove a whole new theory down their throats and expect a standing ovation. You ease them in. Like foreplay.”

He gave her a flat look, unimpressed but unsurprised.

“Fine. I’ll rework that section.”

Lila looked smug now, tucking her legs up onto the chair, clearly now going to observe him re-writing this part.

In a way, it reminded him of their time at The Commission, only months ago. Where he explained about the universe no longer expanding but collapsing upon itself, and while she might not grasp every nuance, she managed to break it back down—calling it a prolapsed anus—and somehow, its own way, that made just as much sense. She was good at simplifying the complex.

It didn’t take long to type everything up. While Lila read it over, Five moved to another computer to set up an email account—something that somehow felt just as time-consuming as writing the actual document. Still, it was worth it. With the account set up, he sent the file to himself, making sure it was accessible from his phone so he could forward it to multiple universities later.

If he actually got in, he was going to need to sort out a proper setup at home—a computer, internet, maybe even a printer. Just one more thing to add to the list.

“Thanks for today,” Five said, his voice quieter than usual, as they made their way home.

“Yeah, well…” Lila shrugged, keeping her eyes forward. “If you don’t ignore me, maybe you would realise I can actually be helpful now and then. You don’t have to do everything on your own, you know.”

He gave a small nod—noncommittal, but not dismissive.

She glanced over. “Besides, I think I should be the one saying thanks.”

He looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I saw them. When I was looking for my book.” Her fingers slipped into his as they continued to walk.

His jaw tensed, a muscle twitching just beneath the surface.

“They’re cute,” she said softly. “When did you buy them?”

“When I bought the pillow.”

Her brows knitted. “That was a month or so ago. You didn’t think to tell me?”

“They are for her, not you.” he said simply, trying to make light. “For when she arrives.”

Lila looked down at their hands, quiet for a second. “You normally plan ahead but for things you’re fairly certain about. I thought you would have waited until she was born for some things.”

“I liked the strawberries,” he muttered.

She blinked, taken slightly off guard. “Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t know why.” He gave a faint shrug. “Their baby clothes seem seasonal. You wouldn’t get those prints in December.”

A slow grin tugged at her mouth. “Look at you—not just buying baby clothes but keeping track of fashion trends too. Impressive.”

Five shook his head lightly and gave her hand a small squeeze. It wasn’t the conversation he’d wanted to have with her—but it was something. At the very least, it confirmed he wasn’t imagining things, she was being warmer toward him again. She may have chalked it up to spending time together again, rather than her staying at home, and no doubt that had something to do with it. But he was willing to bet those little folded pieces of cotton had played a part too.

He decided then and there—he’d take what he was given, even if it came with an expiration date.

Chapter Text

Over the next three weeks, Five spent time going over the rules—or lack of—in his head.

Number one, we go back to our own beds after.

It was Lila’s first rule, and for the most part, they were still sleeping separately—except the ones where they had sex before bed, directly breaking the rule.

Neither one talked about it, but it had become a silent routine. Lila would roll over into the same position each time, and Five’s arm had found a new home around her waist, resting just under her bump. Sometimes he was welcomed by the baby tap dancing across his arms in not so little flutters and later on, even with rolls and kicks. He refrained from making comments or saying anything, worried it could break their fragile unspoken agreement.

Nightmares, however, had developed their own set of rules.

Staying together in the same bed—or even having sex beforehand—was no longer a guaranteed way to keep them at bay for Lila. It was like the magic wore off the moment they acknowledged it worked.

The first time Five had attempted to wake her gently from one, it backfired. He’d tried to be tender—stroking her arm, placing a kiss on her shoulder, whispering softly, not even sure she’d hear it. But when she woke up, it was abrupt and brutal. She rolled and reacted fast—kneeing him in the hip, clipping him just shy of his groin, flipping him onto his back and pinning him there, hands at his throat.

It only lasted a second or two—long enough to knock the air from his lungs—before realisation flooded her face. The lamp had been left on due to the moonless night and that might have been what saved him from a fight he didn’t want to have. She let go immediately, horrified. Five couldn't help but cough, the pressure on his neck leaving a brief sting. She rolled out of bed and scurried away into the bathroom before Five could choke out a word.

After that night, he changed tactics—not because he couldn’t take a hit, but because of the guilt in her eyes afterwards.

Now, when he woke to her thrashing or whimpering, he’d shift away, sit up, and gently rub her arm while saying her name. As soon as she stirred, he’d pull his hand back quickly—just in case she grabbed it on reflex and twisted something. Not every nightmare triggered a violent reaction, though. Sometimes, she’d just mutter a soft “thanks”, and he’d move back in, pulling her close, knowing waking her and holding her was enough to help reset her in those instants.

His own nightmares were trickier.

He didn’t expect Lila to try his door again after how badly the first time went. Usually, he could logic his way out of bad dreams—check his notebook to confirm the inventory, remind himself nothing had changed. But lately, the dreams had. Now, they featured her and the baby.

It didn’t even have to be doomsday-level bad—just the birth going wrong, or something small spiralling into the worst-case scenario. The first time it happened, he paced. Not outside—he didn’t want to risk waking her—but back and forth in the limited steps his room allowed. Just breathe, he told himself, peeling sweat-slick hair off his forehead.

Then a knock stopped him mid-stride.

Shit. Woke her.

“Yeah?” he called, wiping his face with the back of his hand, trying to look less rattled than he was.

Lila opened the door cautiously, giving him a small, sympathetic smile when she saw him. “I was just going to pee and… I heard you.” She paused before adding, softer, “Be back in my bed when I come back.”

It wasn’t a question and he didn’t need to be told twice. After that dream, being beside her was welcomed, needed almost. Just to shut his brain up.

From that night on, she started checking in more often. He figured it was because some nightmares didn’t come with notes to double-check or adrenaline to walk off. Sometimes, he just woke up and froze, staring blankly at the wall.

On those nights, she’d enter quietly, take the knife from beside his bed, and walk it out into the hallway before returning. She would place her arm over him as much as her bump would allow. No pillows between them. He had told Lila by now about Dolores, how they slept. He could only assume that she drew the conclusion for this position to be a small comfort to him, and she was right.

---

Rule two, no kissing, his own rule. The one he broke and then kept on breaking. Just a little more each time, pushing boundaries by mere inches. He hadn’t kissed her outside of sex, though. That was the new line, and now, technically, it was her rule.

He shattered the no kissing part. She amended it to only during sex.

He respected that. But with rule seven being no unnecessary touching and rule eight being no undressing each other, also long since discarded, mouths had found new territory. Not just lips and genitals anymore—necks, shoulders, ears. Tongues licked across skin. Teeth grazed.

And it wasn’t just Five exploring her flesh—Lila did too. At first, he could tell she was hesitant, unsure if she was allowed to. It made sense. He’d laid down so many rules in the beginning. But the moment her lips brushed his neck, when her teeth nipped and her mouth sucked—he’d let out a noise that clearly encouraged her. Any doubt she had disappeared after that.

He'd thought, more than once, about bringing up rule five—the safe words. A rule that, after being mentioned at the start, had never resurfaced. Maybe the sex wasn’t as experimental as Lila had expected it to be. Or maybe the pregnancy put limits on what they could or couldn’t do. Still, Five sometimes wondered if they should revisit it—not for anything extreme, but for moments of discomfort or emotional sharpness they hadn’t prepared for.

But so far, every time a boundary was nudged, neither of them retreated. At times Lila would still have something sharp to say after, anything to keep her walls up and her defence high but Five learnt to almost ignore those because he started to see it, in the heat of the moments how tender her eyes could be, matching his.

So maybe it wasn’t needed. By now, they could read each other well—well enough to catch a flicker of hesitation, the edge of discomfort, and adjust. Change tactics. Retreat. All without a word spoken.

And, if it came down to it, there was always one rule, the trump rule that either of them could pull, one rule that would always be in effect, rule six. It stops if either of us become uncomfortable.

Even if this thing between them grew into something more—friends with benefits turning into... something else—some form of rule six would remain. Only the name would change.

Breaking up.

And if they ever got that close, clearly rules three and four would vanish too.

No one else knows and if anyone asks, this never happened.

Those still held—for now. It helped that Five didn’t see his siblings as much as he originally thought he would. Starting a new life took time, effort, and concentration.

As for what Lila’s parents thought, well, they weren’t sure. The weekly calls were going well. Her parents knew they lived together. They might have even assumed they were a couple.

Lila hadn’t told them she was expecting yet.

She told Five she didn’t want them being influenced by it. “People go gah-gah for babies,” she’d said. “Think they’re so cute at first, but then they stop caring once they’re a few months old.”

But Five read between the lines, she wanted them to get to know her first before maybe judging her for something.

The rules replayed in his head again and again over those few weeks. He said nothing. Amended nothing. Just watched as the rules crumbled more with each passing day.

Maybe this was the answer—to let whatever was going to happen, happen naturally.

He would take what he could get, after all.

---

Five had applied to eight universities in total—all offering remote, online learning. He told himself it was so he could do it at his own pace, race through the content if he wanted. That he was too old for dorms. That after fighting for years to get back to his family—only to now see them sporadically—he didn’t want those already-rare interactions to vanish completely.

But he also recognised he didn’t want to leave her. Not while she was heavily pregnant. Not with a newborn in her arms and no one else around.

He knew that if she’d managed to land a job, she probably would’ve been out of there already. But she hadn’t, and it didn’t look like that would change anytime soon. Even if she did move out eventually, he’d still visit. No doubt he’d bring groceries, maybe cook for her too.

Part of him even wondered if his family might start showing up more once the baby arrived. Including Diego. Despite his protests with the initial hurt and declaring he wanted nothing to do with either of them, his actions at recent gatherings said otherwise.

He shoved any flicker of jealousy aside as he opened the email on his phone from the sixth university. It had been a few weeks since he sent the applications. The first five had all declined him. They thanked him for his thesis, complimented his writing, then rejected him for a range of reasons: applications too late, limited spaces, looking for team learners rather than independent minds, looking for students to be at the lectures not taking it from home. A couple encouraged him to re-apply in October for the next academic year.

He took a deep breath and opened the email.

Next to him, Lila stirred. Rolled over. Her hand slid across his bare stomach.

“Morning,” he said, looking at her instead of the screen.

“Go on, what does it say?”

“Who said it’s a reply?”

“You always take a deep breath before opening them.”

Did he?

He handed her the phone. “You read this one.”

She took it without hesitation, blinking a few times, eyes adjusting before they started scanning. Her face stayed unreadable, her best poker face holding firm—until it didn’t. A smile broke out.

“Congrats, genius. You got in.”

His smile mirrored hers. She turned the phone toward him so he could see for himself.

There it was, in black and white:

Accepted – Online Physics Course

Start Date: 09/02/2019

“Finally,” he breathed, eyes closing in relief.

“Looks like you’re going to be crazy busy soon, too.”

Too? Was she expecting him to go back on offering to help?

“It’s online,” he said. “I can work it around whatever I need to work it around.”

He caught the look she gave him—the one that screamed I don’t completely believe you, but I’m not arguing this any further.

“Besides, aren’t you starting the GED in September yourself?”

“Yeah. Guess we’ll both be sat around for a few months studying or taking tests. Ugh, I feel like I need a holiday and we haven’t even started yet.”

Five thought about it for a moment. Lila was just starting her third trimester this week. He knew it wouldn’t be like flipping a switch, that she wouldn’t be suddenly extra tired and easily exhausted, but it made sense to do things sooner rather than later.

“Why don’t we?” Five said casually, though his eyes lingered on her, gauging her reaction.

Lila looked up at him from her laid down position, frowning slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?” she asked, tone cautious but curious.

“The weather’s good.” He gave a small shrug, trying to sound offhand. “Pack the car. Go away for a couple of days.”

She blinked, looking like she was processing or still fluttering away sleep. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Okay then… as long as you get another dorky little hat to go out with,” she teased, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“You thought my hat was dorky?” He raised a brow, feigning offense.

“It screamed old man on a face that just didn’t match,” she said, smirking. “Guess it was kinda adorable in its own way.”

“Thanks. I was going for adorable,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

She moved, getting up, leaning back against the headrest. “Well, why don’t we do what your getup was clearly meant for?”

“Sightseeing?” Five asked, brow quirking as he watched her.

“Sightseeing?” Lila let out a scoff. “No way. It was clearly for fishing.”

He chuckled under his breath. “It was a fedora, not a bucket hat but I guess you could throw a couple of hooks through the side of it.”

They both looked at each other for a beat.

It just felt easy, how mornings should be.

“So… you want to go to the lakes?”

She nodded. “Certainly sounds peaceful,” she said, her voice softer now, like she was already imagining it.

Five nodded back, already thinking ahead. He’d look for cabins with on-site rangers—just in case. At 28 weeks, nothing was likely to happen, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

---

Researching where to go was easier now that he had bought a couple of second-hand laptops for them both for studying.

He was still getting the hang of how to put questions into Google. Less was more, he’d learned.

Cabins near lakes, near me.

He clicked through the top results, checking driving distances, ranger info, and any signs of medical support nearby.

Eventually, he found a nice cabin—not too far away—and right next to a lake.

“How about here?” he said, spinning the laptop toward her.

Lila’s face lit up immediately—until it didn’t. Her smile faltered.

“It’s more money,” she said quietly. “More money you’re spending on me.”

Five tilted his head. “Do you really think if I lived alone, I’d just stay here like a hermit?”

“You kinda give off that vibe.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You said it yourself—I want to see things. I want to do things too. I’d book a trip like this whether you were here or not.”

There was a stretch of silence before her smile came back—smaller this time, but real.

“Okay,” she said, voice warm. “When shall we go?”

Five hit enter on the keyboard

“Now”

---

The car was packed with water, canned goods, and a couple of days’ worth of food from the fridge, all stowed in a cool bag. They weren’t heading anywhere near a major town, and while they could stop for supplies on the way or visit the small rental shop at the cabin site, Five preferred traveling with something rather than risking having nothing.

The drive was smooth, the roads mostly clear, which was fortunate—Lila was clearly less comfortable now than she’d been on their first road trip. Even when she claimed she didn’t need a break, Five would feign discomfort, muttering something about aching joints or how age was catching up to him, and pull over so they could both stretch their legs.

The truth was, nothing in his body felt off anymore. Not the way it had in previous weeks. The stiffness, the sharp aches, had all eased for the most part. Maybe it was just a good week. Or maybe thirty really was the final stop on the aging train.

It was reassuring to know the car held up well on a longer drive too. Up until now, Five had only tested it on short trips to the shop and back.

When they pulled up outside the small rental shop near the entrance to the cabin grounds, they both headed inside to check in. Five’s eyes immediately landed on a rack of fishing rods leaning against the backwall.

“Gonna do some fishing then, old man?” Lila asked, following his gaze.

“That’s the plan. Want to join me?” Five replied, not looking away.

“Is there really any difference between one hook in the water doing nothing and two?” She grinned. “Besides, when I catch the biggest fish in the lake, you’ll be the one doing all the hauling and reeling for me anyway.”

“Cocky much?” Five glanced over at her. “But I get your point.”

Just as he turned back to the rods, something soft landed on his head. He reached up instinctively and found fabric—a hat.

“That one,” Lila said proudly, smirking.

Five turned to face her, shoving his hands in his pockets, one brow arched in amusement. That seemed to only make her laugh.

“Now pop out the knee—if it doesn’t creak too bad—and it’ll complete the look.”

He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes, but when he caught his reflection in the mirror behind the counter, he paused. The hat wasn’t bad. Actually, it kind of worked.

He placed it on the counter along with a rod, asked for a bucket of bait, and collected the cabin key.

---

The cabin itself was small and rustic, built entirely from thick logs with a low-sloped roof and a wraparound porch. Inside, the space was open-plan—a simple living area, a compact kitchen corner, and a bed all sharing one warm, wood-panelled room. A cast-iron log burner stood off to the side—not necessary in August, but it might come in handy if the nights turned cool.

Five carried the bags and food inside while Lila made her way over to the bed, running her fingers through the thick fur runner draped across the foot of it.

“Just the one bed?” she asked.

“I believe you were the one who said it doesn’t count if it’s not our own bed. Besides… does it even matter anymore?”

Lila’s expression fell, and Five immediately wondered if he’d said something wrong—until she let out a soft sigh.

“I forgot my pillow.”

Five checked the bed. Just two pillows. He glanced around the room—the small sofa didn’t have any removable cushions either.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lila said, pushing herself up and heading toward the door on the opposite side of the cabin. “I’ll work something out.”

He watched her open it to reveal a deck extending out over the edge of the lake. The water was glassy and still, rimmed with trees that reflected the afternoon sky. When Five stepped out, looking left and right, he saw no sign of the other cabins, even though he knew they were there, somewhere.

Lila had lowered herself down, removing her shoes and socks. She rolled up her trousers and dipped both feet into the water. He heard her breath hitch—the lake was likely cooler than she’d expected, despite the warmth of the day.

“Go on then,” Lila said, swinging her legs back and forth. “Catch us dinner.”

“You’re going to scare off all the fish doing that. Or entice a crocodile.”

Lila yanked her feet out fast, pulling her knees as close to her chest as possible and staring wide-eyed at the water.

“I was joking… kind of,” he said, smirking. “Still, we should keep an eye out. Rare here but not impossible.”

Five stepped back inside, grabbed the fishing rod and bait, then returned to the deck. Lila still seemed to be engaged in a silent staring contest with the lake.

“Did you have to worry much about animals?” she asked, eyes still fixed on the water. “You know, in your apocalypse?”

“No,” Five replied flatly. He paused, considering how to explain. “Whatever wiped out the humans… took most of the animals too.” He sat down beside her, threading a lure and weight onto the line. Then he picked up one of the wax worms, slid the hook down its mouth, and pierced it through the skin. “Bugs survived. Cockroaches make decent meals—good protein. But it turned out…”

He cast the line.

“…fish survived too.”

He reeled in slightly before setting the rod into one of the pre-installed holders on the deck, then sat back down beside her.

“Dolores and I—”

He stopped.

“Dolores and you,” Lila said softly, giving him a small smile. Encouraging.

“Dolores and I didn’t go fishing much. We didn’t venture far from the city. But when food got harder to come by, needs must. We found a mansion once and stayed there for a while—it had a decent lake and a surprisingly well-stocked cellar of Bordeaux.” He paused, half-laughing at the memory. “I don’t remember all of it clearly, but… it was a break from the shitty reality for a while.”

He knew she’d read between the lines—don’t remember it meaning extremely drunk most of the time. And then he felt it, a weight on his shoulder. Her head resting gently against him. He turned just slightly, enough for her hair to brush his cheek.

“How long has it been? Six weeks?”

“Forty-six days.”

He felt a small smile against him before her head tilted up and their eyes met. They were soft. But her smile—it wasn’t a smirk, wasn’t sarcastic, but not exactly sympathetic either.

If Five had to name it, it wouldn’t be a word people often used when looking at him.

Stupid, naïve, foolish boy, Reginald’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp and scornful, even as Lila looked at him—like she might be proud.

Her mouth opened—maybe to say something—but the moment broke with a shrill from the alarm on her phone.

Her eyes dropped down as she pulled away from him.

“Oh yeah. Thursday. My turn to call Anita and Ronnie.”

They took turns to call each other, and Lila always set an alarm to make sure she remembered—time zone differences made it easy to forget and it wasn’t always the same time each week.

She stood, and Five held out his arm for her to use as leverage. She patted him on the head before heading back inside.

Five watched the lake instead, checking the line, the rod, the quiet ripple on the surface.

A moment later, Lila returned. “Absolutely no signal in there. But I’ve got a bar out here.”

“Okay. I can head in if you want.”

“Nah, you’ve got to watch your line. Besides, what am I going to tell them that you don’t already know? It’s always the two of them—why don’t you join in today?”

“Oh, I don’t think—”

Before he could finish, he heard the ringing click onto speaker, followed by a bright and excited, “Hello!”

Five half-listened as the usual questions bounced back and forth—how was everyone’s week, how’s the weather, anything new—until Lila’s voice lit up.

“Five got into a university for physics!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful to hear, Five! When do you start?” Anita asked.

“In September.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck, not expecting to be dragged into the conversation like this.

“Are you staying in dorms, or…?”

“No, planning to stay home and do it remotely. Can go at my own pace that way.”

Ronnie chimed in, “Ah, so you’re stretching it out over a few years while getting a job?”

“The opposite, actually,” Five said, trying not to sound too blunt. “I want to finish it as fast as possible.”

“Oh, that’s great!” they both exclaimed at once. Anita continued, “And what about you, Lila? Are you thinking about uni too, or something else?”

“I’m actually going to start my GED,” she said. “It’s like a high school equivalent. I don’t really have time for uni at the moment, and this is something I’ve been assured”—she shot Five a look—“that I can bash out in a few months.”

Five watched the moment settle over her, that dawning realisation, just as Ronnie asked the inevitable next question.

“Oh great! Did you find a job then?”

“That’s… one way of putting it,” Lila muttered, side-eyeing Five, then taking a deep breath and tossing a small pebble into the lake. The splash was small, but it sent the fish scattering beneath the surface.

Five grimaced, pretending it was at the fish swimming away and not at what was coming next.

“I’m actually pregnant,” Lila said.

“Congratulations, you two!”

“Well, actually—Five’s not the father. It’s… a bit complicated.”

“When isn’t it, with family?” Anita replied warmly. It sounded kind. Understanding. “But you did say Five’s the one who’s been around. You’ve been living together, what, four months now? Since the reset?” Her voice was almost sing-song like, the same way Lila’s can be when she teased.  

“Yeah, but—” Lila started, clearly gearing up to explain the situation, but Anita was already mid-ramble.

“So, he might not be the father, but it certainly sounds like he might be the dad.”

Five froze, staring at the phone.

Was that how it looked like?

Was she going to refute it?

Chapter Text

It was a warm day, but not hot. Still, the air felt too heavy in his lungs—dense with heat, as if he were suffocating. Every breath burned on the way in, like it scraped fire through his chest.

That was nothing compared to his mind though, it buzzed.

Not calm. Not clear. Nothing useful.

It felt like his brain was misfiring, skipping like a broken record. Playing only static noise where thoughts should be.

Hands twitched. He needed to feel something. The fabric of his trousers, the dig of his nails into his skin or running his hand through his hair, pushing it back—

No.

Don’t move it.

Leave it, it kept his expression hidden or at least semi hidden. Because right now, he didn’t trust it to stay neutral, didn’t dare look at Lila. His eyes stayed locked on the phone laying between them on the decking.

Was this pause normal? Was it too long? Were Anita and Ronnie picking up on it?

Maybe time was slowing down. Had he gotten his powers back? When was the last time he checked?

He could squeeze his hands tight. Test it.

Would he feel anything—a flicker of energy?

The urge to blink away from this entire situation grew stronger by the second.

But if he did curl his hands into fists, she’d see it. Assume that he wanted out.

Did he want out?

He’d spent weeks trying to convince her—and maybe himself—that he didn’t want to be seen as the dad. He’d refused to go into the first scan with her. But the second one? He’d walked in. Held her hand. It wasn't about the baby—it had been for Lila. Because she needed it. Because she’d wanted him there. So he shoved aside how he felt and sat there.

But now?

How did he want to be perceived?

How did she see him?

Maybe the fear wasn’t that she might see him that way, maybe it was if she didn’t.

“I think…” Lila started, and Five’s eyes dragged up from the phone, painfully slow. Her gaze wasn’t on him—it was out across the water, her fingers idly fidgeting with the cuff of her rolled-up trousers. “Five has just always been that kind of way. He would do anything for his family.”

His stomach dropped.

Was that it? Was that all it was to her? Him being helpful because that’s just who he is? Nothing special, not for her, just Five doing what Five does. That’s how she saw it?

Or… maybe it meant she understood. That she knew she was someone he cared for. Maybe she was saying that out loud, in the only way she could. Deflecting, generalising it.

He didn’t have time to untangle the layers—because then she turned. Not towards her fiddling fingers, not to the phone, but him.

And he knew.

She wasn’t brushing it off.

She wasn’t making light of it.

It was in the look. That unspoken kind that said everything without saying anything at all. And if the damn phone call hadn’t still been going on, he would have crossed the space between them in an instant. Pulled her close. Finally not just acting on everything he wanted to admit but saying it too. He might not know what those words were but he could find them. He was sure of it.

But Ronnie’s voice cut through the moment, jarring and warm all at once.

“Exactly. Family doesn’t have to be blood.”

Somehow, Ronnie had echoed the very words Five had said only weeks ago.

If they were anything like their other selves, it made sense. They could share the same morals and principles. After all, they were one of the families who didn’t give up their child for adoption or left them for dead.

Five never blamed his own mother. He couldn’t imagine it, suddenly having a child you didn’t ask for. Giving birth without warning. The trauma, the shock. Then the looks. From family. Friends. Strangers. The whole world, once the news spread. Maybe some people were interrogated. Judged. Maybe it just felt simpler to hand the child over and never look back.

But not Lila’s parents.

They had wanted a child. Couldn’t have one. And then—there she was.

After all, you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Was that what this was? His gift?

He’d never expected to come home—not really. And when he had, there was still an apocalypse looming over him, with no promise of success. Arguably, he’d failed. He and his siblings hadn’t stopped the end of the world—they’d just kicked the can further down the road. Again. And again.

So he hadn’t let himself think about this kind of thing. Not even in that strange form of a life with Dolores. For all the ways their relationship had bent the rules of reality, there were limits. He could talk to her, call her his wife, make love to her. But he knew there would never be any consequences of those actions. No possibility of more. He could break physics, but there was nothing to break when it came to simple biology.

Which made it strange—maybe even profound—that Ronnie was the one to say it. Because Lila wasn’t his biologically. She took DNA like they all did from their mothers, but Ronnie had nothing to do with her. Yet, he loved her all the same. Raised her. Protected her until the end.

Was it really any different from what they were doing?

“So when are they due? Do you know what you’re having?” Anita asked, her voice lifting with kind curiosity.

Just like that, the conversation shifted. There was a final glance between them before Lila reached for her phone.

“December,” she said into it, holding it in her hand. “And it’s a little girl.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Anita replied as Ronnie chimed in. “Well, we were talking about maybe meeting up in the future—how about sometime in January or February, once you three have all settled?”

You three.

“Uh, yeah. Maybe. We can talk closer to the time about it,” Lila murmured.

“Of course. Well, shall we chat again next Thursday? Does this time work?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Speak to you guys then,” Lila supposed, and ended the call.

And just like that—it was quiet.

The rustle of trees. Birds chirping. The faint buzz of grasshoppers. All of it poured in, sharp and clear, like someone had turned up the volume on the world.

Five glanced at the fishing rod, reaching for it and reeling in slightly, just enough to feel the line’s tension.

Everything Lila hadn’t wanted to happen… had just happened.

She hadn’t wanted to tell them. And while she hadn’t said they were together, she also hadn’t denied it. They’d said, ‘you three,’ and she hadn’t corrected them.

No “I won’t be living with him when you come.”

No “It’s not like that.”

Just silence.

She was still sitting beside him. She hadn’t retreated to the cabin like he’d expected, hadn’t put that space back between them.

Could they talk about it? Probably not.

But the fact that she was still here felt like progress. Maybe it was worth not pushing.

He reeled the line a touch more before placing the rod gently back in its holder.

And then he felt it—her head resting against his leg, using his thigh as a makeshift pillow.

She looked drained. Not just mentally but physically, like the conversation had wrung her out completely. And yet instead of using that as an excuse to slip away, to stretch out on the soft bed inside, she stayed here. Chose him. Chose this.

His hand found her shoulder, giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze. Then he reached higher, brushing his fingers through her hair without thinking. Before he even realised it, he was stroking her head.

“It’s getting so long,” he murmured.

The platinum strands now fell well below her ears. Her hair seemed to grow fast, or at least, the two tones gave it that appearance.

“Heh, you’re one to talk.”

She rolled from her side onto her back, her arm reaching up and around his neck. Her fingers ruffled the ends of his hair before coming to rest at the nape, gently tugging him closer.

“I could cut it for you, you know.”

“You? Near me with scissors?” he smirked. “Not sure I’d only lose my hair.”

“Please,” she said, grinning, “if I wanted to kill you, it wouldn’t be with scissors.”

Five let out a low hum, his eyes meeting hers—those rich brown eyes that always seemed to say more than her mouth ever dared.

He leaned in a little closer, narrowing the space between them—just enough to see if the orange flecks he’d once spotted in her eyes were still there.

“Do you?” His voice was soft.

“What?” she asked, just as quietly.

“Still think about killing me?”

“Think?” she echoed. “Not want?”

“Well, we both know it was only make-believe.” His dimples flashed with the smug grin that followed.

Her hand slipped from around his neck and landed over his mouth, pushing him back, reestablishing space between them.

Five closed his eyes, smiling beneath her hand. He let his fingers slip from her hair and lifted them to hers, pressing her hand gently against his mouth—kissing her palm instead of the place he'd originally intended.

When he opened his eyes again, she was wearing a small smile.

“Maybe I should put my hand over your mouth more often,” she said, the smile now reaching her eyes.

So I can kiss you more often? he almost let slip.

“You know,” she added, “because it shuts you up.”

Five rolled his eyes and let her hand go. But it didn’t fall away completely. Instead, it moved to cup his cheek.

If she pulls even slightly, I’ll kiss her, I’ll—

But her hand slipped away as she rolled onto her side, her head still resting on his lap, now angled out toward the lake.

He assumed that was it. That she was going to sleep—or at least settle in quietly—but then her voice came again.

“No one knows us here.”

“Right…” Five replied, a little cautious, unsure where she was going with this.

“So we can be whoever we want. Not Five and Lila, the stress-case always bracing for disaster and the one who can’t get a job and be independent. Just two people, out on some baby moon or whatever. No interviews. No deadlines. No family expectations. Just… this.”

“Just us three,” he said, testing Ronnie’s words on his tongue, watching her body language carefully.

But she didn’t flinch. Didn’t tense. Didn’t even sigh. She simply moved her hand to rest gently over her stomach.

“So much for a nap,” she murmured.

Five looked down. He could see her hand shifting slightly, the outline of movement beneath it.

His fingers followed the curve of her shoulder, trailing down her arm until they reached her hand. When he covered hers, she let go, letting him take over.

He gave a playful, light tap back against the soft pushes.

“Mom wants to sleep,” he said gently, starting to stroke the spot with his fingertips. The response from inside was stronger.

“Your voice wakes her up, not puts her to sleep,” Lila muttered.

“Maybe it’s the wrong type of voice.”

“What, you gonna break into song?” she asked, shooting him a side glance.

He thought about it for a second, then reached up with his other hand, pulling off his hat, and placed it gently over her face.

“Here. Keep the sun out of your eyes so you can get some shut-eye.”

His other smoothed over the curve of her belly again, feeling the movement beneath slowly settle.

“See?” he said, voice low. “She does listen.”

Then he waited.

He could now tell when she had drifted off. A few weeks beside her at night had taught him her sleeping pattern—the steady rhythm of her breath, the faintest twitch of her fingers. Now, she had slipped into that quiet.

Softly, barely above a whisper, he began to sing under his breath.

“I'd like to walk around in your mind someday
I'd like to walk all over the things you say to me
I'd like to run and jump on your solitude
I'd like to rearrange your attitude to me—”

The fishing rod bobbed suddenly, the tip twitching. Five’s eyes flicked to it.

To grab it would mean waking her.

Letting it go might mean losing the fish.

Or maybe the fish would wait.

Maybe it would attract something bigger.

He exhaled slowly, a deep breath filling his lungs with air that felt fresher than it had in months and re-casted his eyes across the lake.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think about what he considered retirement in a long time. Not properly.

He’d thought he had it once—months ago—only for the world to try and implode on itself.

After that, it felt safer to stay pessimistic. To expect the worst.

But now? The world seemed quiet.

He had a place to rest, food within arm’s reach, and someone beside him. Not just a body—not just the illusion of company—but real company. Talking, breathing, grounding company.

His hand moved one last time across the curve of her stomach, feeling the quiet now that the baby had settled. Then it drifted back to her shoulder, resting there gently.

He could get used to this. Not literally this, it wasn’t practical. Not forever. The money would run out eventually. He’d need a job. The gift of being young again had pushed real retirement even further into the future.

But he could work again. He could start over.

If he had something—or someone, or someones—to work for.

---

Five wasn’t too sure how long Lila had been out. An hour? Maybe two? Long enough that his leg was completely dead, and he knew a rush of pins and needles was imminent the second she moved.

Judging by the sun, it was getting late—the sky starting to shift with orange tones as the light slanted across the lake. Lila stirred beside him, a low whine leaving her lips as she began to sit up.

“Hey,” Five greeted softly, taking the hat from her face and placing it back on his head. He watched as discomfort flickered across her features—her body clearly unprepared for lying on such a hard surface for that long.

“Hmmumm,” she grumbled.

Five helped her up, only to wince the moment he moved. The blood was rushing back to his leg in a tidal wave of fire and stings. His hands rushing to it, rubbing in hopes to get rid of the sensation as fast as it had started.

Lila gave a quiet chuckle, clearly amused, and batted his hands away to knead the feeling back into his thigh herself.

“Next time, I’ll nap somewhere more suitable,” she muttered.

“It’s fine,” he tried to brush it off.

“Clearly,” she said, sarcastically, as she dug her fingers in with a little too much enthusiasm.

Five let out an involuntary moan.

“Was that just discomfort, or are you showing your masochist side again?” she teased, fingers pressing in again just as firm.

He winced, grabbing her wrists quickly. “Okay, okay—all better!”

They both laughed, their heads nearly colliding as Five pushed her playfully away from his leg.

“I need to check the line,” he said, leaning over towards the fishing rod.

“I’m surprised you haven’t caught anything yet!”

“Someone had me pinned.”

“You weren’t pinned. I’ll show you what pinning is later,” she said, tossing him a cheeky wink.

Five chose to ignore that comment entirely.

“Fine. Someone was asleep, and I didn’t want to wake her,” he said instead.

“Wait, you’ve actually got a bite?”

“Had might be more accurate…” He grabbed the rod and started to reel it in, pausing. “Although…”

There was definite tension on the line—enough to make him get up and stand, both hands gripping the rod now as he reeled.

It took a minute, but once the line was reeled in, the fish broke through the surface, flailing wildly. Five grabbed the line and managed to wrestle the feisty catch into his hands.

Lila leaned in with a smile. “What is it?”

“Looks like a decent-sized largemouth bass,” Five replied, inspecting it. “Aka dinner.”

He started to untangle the hook, only to realise the bass had indeed swallowed a smaller fish. The hook was caught in both.

“Time to put you out of your misery,” he muttered.

Carrying the bass into the cabin, he moved straight to the kitchen area and dropped it into the sink. Grabbing a knife, he delivered a clean strike just behind the eye—quick and precise—then cut through the gill cover to bleed it out. He stuffed the fish upside down in the sink, letting gravity do the rest of the work.

Done, he walked to the bathroom to wash his hands. He’d forgotten how fish smell lingered, no matter how much you scrubbed.

“Do you want me to see what else we brought that’ll go with the fish?” Lila called out, tugging open the fridge door.

“Sounds good. But I’m cooking.”

“Nah, you brought us here, caught dinner. The least I can do is make sure we don’t get food poisoni—”

She stopped mid-sentence. He heard it in her tone—how she caught herself a second too late.

It was just a joke. A dumb one. But she knew better than to bring up one of his worst experiences in the apocalypse.

He stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel, and saw her standing by the counter, biting her lip, arms loosely folded like she was bracing for something.

“Five, I—”

“It’s okay.”

“Look,” she said quickly, turning her back to him as she fussed with the food on the counter. “We’ve got other stuff. You don’t have to eat the fish.”

“It’s okay,” he repeated, voice steady now as he walked toward her.

She was still turned away when he pressed up gently behind her, his arms framing her against the counter. His voice dropped low against her ear. “I said it’s okay.”

She stilled. Then her head tipped back slightly, resting against his shoulder, and tilted just enough that the crown of her head brushed against his cheek.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

That word. Said like she meant it—not defensive, not sarcastic. Real. Simple. Soft.

The rarely uttered word between them and now was the time she used it genuinely? This was the one she’d meant?

Well… However he felt about that damn fish now—whatever bile rose in his throat just thinking about it—he was going to eat it. It was fresh. She cooked better than he did. It was fine. He’d get through it.

Exposure therapy.

“We’ll cook it together,” she offered gently.

He nodded into her hair, letting his cheek brush against the silk of it.

---

It was so much harder to eat than he’d expected.

He thought he could just get over it, it has been long enough by now. So why did each mouthful feel like it was going to potentially kill him.

Five wasn’t sure whether silence made it easier or worse, but he was grateful Lila wasn’t trying to coax him through it. No gentle encouragements. No “just one more bite.” If she’d tried that, the fork might’ve ended up embedded in the wall. He might not yell or raise his voice, but he could throw a tantrum with the best of them—especially when the anger was turned inward.

At himself. His weakness. His own pathetic inability to get through a damn meal.

And it wasn’t just the fish. The whole plate felt tainted.

He glared at the food with each slow chew, willing his stomach to cooperate. By the time he’d made it halfway through, he was done.

He laid his knife and fork together and let his gaze drift to Lila’s plate. She was further along, but not finished. As he watched, her pace slowed. Her utensils hovered—on the verge of joining his in surrender.

He picked his fork back up.

Another bite. He could do that, if it meant she’d keep eating.

So he forced it down. Then another. And another. One eye on her plate the entire time.

Finally, her plate was clean.

He placed his cutlery down again. Sat back.

And only then—after all of it—did he look at her.

“Okay?” Lila asked gently as Five picked up his water, downing it in one go, trying to flush down everything that still felt stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” he muttered, keeping the empty glass in his hand as he stood to collect his plate. He brought it over to the kitchen, then returned to grab Lila’s without a word.

“You know,” she said, watching him, “a few months ago you wouldn’t have done that. At all. The food would've gone straight in the bin. It’s like I said last time we were at the academy—you’re getting better with all sorts. Impressive, considering most people pay good money for that kind of progress.”

“Didn’t have a therapist before,” he said flatly, “don’t need one now.”

“I wasn’t saying you did but real talk? You don’t think it’d help?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have you,” he said simply, placing the plates in the sink. “I’ve got someone to talk to. I don’t need some bullshit ‘ten steps to wellness’ or someone staring at me like I’m delusional. ‘Hi, I ended up in the future, the world ended, and I had a mannequin for a wife. Was an assassin for five years whilst waiting for an opportunity to steal a briefcase to get back to my family.’ It's the kind of shit I would get locked up for.”

“That isn’t far off what I said back in Dallas to get sectioned,” she muttered, half under her breath, the realisation that he was probably right sinking in.

It would be exhausting—trying to tailor his trauma into something digestible enough not to get thrown in a psych ward, just to explain a few quirks.

“Is that really how you see yourself?” she asked, stepping closer, joining him at the sink. This time it was her pressing in, her bump into his back.

“Yes,” he said. “Something like that, anyway. I think, more accurately… I’ve worn so many masks over the years I’m not sure I know which one is actually me. Maybe I just haven’t had the chance to find out yet.”

It almost tickled when her arms wrapped around his waist. She leaned gently against him, her movements a little hesitant—until Five placed his hands over hers, guiding her arms to tighten. She responded with a soft squeeze.

“Maybe this is it,” she murmured. “Maybe this is our redo at life. And this time… we actually get to live it.”

Then he turned in place, shifting to face her. Her arms didn’t drop—they simply adjusted, still wrapped around him, now from the front, while his settled around the tops of her shoulders.

A quiet embrace.

They’d cuddled in bed recently. Held each other through nightmares. But this felt like another new territory. And Five couldn’t quite tell if it was new for them, or just new for this version of them—this breakaway Five and Lila, the ones pretending they could hide from the world.

It almost felt like a joke, replaying what Lila had said earlier—that no one knew them here, that they could be whoever they wanted. As if their worries could be kept outside the cabin walls. As if trauma had a border it respected.

Maybe they could fake normal for a couple days. But the food had already cracked the illusion. Something else would follow—a nightmare, a poorly chosen word, some reminder that the past still lived in them both.

One hand smoothed up Lila’s back, under her hair, finding the nape of her neck. He searched—checked—for any flicker of hesitation, any hint of vulnerability behind her eyes.

And he didn’t see it.

If anything, he wondered if he was the one who looked wounded.

She leaned in, their noses brushing—just the tips. Five ran his slowly along hers, up and down, once then twice. Nudging, asking silently before she closed the gap and their lips met. Soft kisses, back and forth, until tongues met, moving in slow, lazy rhythm.

Someone could’ve painted them as a still life—frozen but alive—with only their mouths in motion.

Her hand trailed up from his waist to his shoulder, gripping his T-shirt. Then she pulled back just enough to speak.

“Bed?”

He half expected it. Kissing was her rule now, one tied to sex. If she believed this was an invitation, then it was one.

But he caught the inflection. It was a question, not a demand.

So he took her hand. Let her lead him.

She pushed him down gently, lying beside him on her side as their mouths met again.

There was no tug at each other’s tops. No fingers slipping under a waistband.

They just kissed. Rolled together. Like teenagers rediscovering how electric making-out could be.

Eventually, kisses moved from lips to jaws to necks. Hands roamed over clothes, feather-light and teasing.

It wasn’t their usual shorthand—no quiet mutter of a “lesson,” no silent agreement to just get to it.

It was playful. Gentle. Fun.

Five’s mind conjured a previous thought process he’d had several times over the months. How did normal couples initiate sex.

And when he thought about it, he’d pictured this.

He just never pictured it would be them.

Clothing fell away, and Lila climbed on top. A few hungry kisses were exchanged before she grabbed both his wrists, yanking them up over his head.

“Told you I’d show you what pinning actually is.”

Five grinned. There were several ways he could have escaped—he knew it, she knew it—but he didn’t try. He met each of her movements willingly, thrusts rising to meet hers, never feeling truly out of control. Still, he feigned being caught, giving a few half-hearted pushes against her grip.

She pressed down harder in response, making her point with a smirk.

But eventually, the teasing faded into something quieter. Smirks softened into smiles. Her hands, though still resting on his wrists, relaxed. She leaned down until their lips met again, slower now, mouths fitting together with warmth instead of fire.

Chapter Text

When Five woke up, his body ached more than usual. He blinked a few times before registering that he was staring at the ceiling—not lying on his right like he usually did. His chest felt unexpectedly heavy. Peering down, he saw Lila curled up beside him, head resting on his chest, one arm draped over both of them. Her bump was nestled neatly between them, using him as a makeshift pillow for them both.

His eyes drifted to the curtains they’d forgotten to draw. Morning light had flooded the room. He tilted his head down to glance at his watch, 5:08.

It was early, and they had nowhere to be. Nothing to do. So he simply tightened his arm around her and closed his eyes again. He didn’t know if sleep would come back, but for now, he could just enjoy this—the quiet, the peace, the warmth.

At some point, sleep must have taken him, because the next thing he knew, Lila was getting back into bed beside him.

“Sorry,” she murmured, slipping under the covers again. “Tried not to wake you.”

Her face was close—too close for his still-waking brain—he instinctively moved and planted a quick kiss on her lips before closing his eyes again.

Clearly, he’d overslept. Now all his body wanted was more of it.

“How about a bit later?”

He cracked one eye open, trying hard to focus on her. “Later what?”

“Sex,” Lila said casually. “I think I need some breakfast or something first.”

Five frowned, confused. Why was she talking about sex? He wasn’t even awake yet. All he’d done was… oh.

He’d kissed her. Without even thinking.

Should he tell her that? That it wasn’t an invitation for sex? Or just go along with it?

“I—uh…” he blinked rapidly, trying to get his brain, eyes, and common sense to catch up.

“Fine,” Lila cut him off. “You get one.”

“One what?” he asked, feeling like he was getting more lost in the fog.

“One free kiss a day.”

A new rule?

Suddenly he was awake, completely aware, their shared proximity still so close. He kept eye contact, refusing to let his eyes drop.

“Do you get one too?”

“Seems only fair.” There was the smallest smile with a shrug of the shoulder which didn’t feel like it was shrugging anything off.

So he moved in closer, trying to claim another one, his one, now that he was awake but her hand shot up, pressing against his chest.

“Oi. I didn’t say I wanted to use mine right now.”

"I'm applying for a redo."

He expected another shove to his bare chest, some muttered warning that he was pushing his luck. But she didn’t move. Instead, she let their lips collide again—this time not in a half-dazed, distracted rush, but with full awareness. Awake. Intentional.

When they finally stopped, soft sighs escaped both of them, and neither showed any urgency to move or get up. A sweet haze clouded his mind—until he remembered she was hungry.

He wanted to lean in, press a kiss to her forehead before leaving the warmth of the bed, but instead he rolled over and sat up, stretching before glancing around for the bag with their clothes. Fresh boxers and a T-shirt were pulled out, then he retrieved his trousers from where he’d discarded them last night.

“Tea and toast?” he asked as he continued getting dressed.

“You brought both with us?”

“Did you expect me to catch breakfast as well?” He turned, catching her now sitting up in bed. His gaze lingered over her body for a moment, golden brown in the morning light, until she spoke again, drawing his eyes back up to hers.

“I’m sure there are rabbits around here. Maybe some wild strawberries.”

“Toast with or without spread. That’s what I can get you, Bear Grylls,” Five said, grabbing the milk from the small fridge.

“I’m kind of surprised you know who that is.”

“I lived in a library in the apocalypse. First section I read was survival.” Five looked over his shoulder just in time to see her clip her bra back on.

“Point taken.”

Five popped four slices of bread into the toaster, with a satisfying click as he sent the bread down. Opening the cupboards he rummaged for a kettle for the stove.

“What are you gonna do without your high-sugar cereal?” she teased as she sat herself down at the small table.

He shot her a sideways glance, then pulled out a few supplies from one of the bags—peanut butter, marshmallow fluff, and strawberry jelly—and dropped them on the table with a dull thud, followed by three butter knives. Five gave a half smirk as the toast popped.

He brought the golden slices over on a plate, then turned back to lift the kettle off the stove just as it started to whistle. A moment later, two mugs were set down beside the condiments, steam curling from their rims.

“So,” Lila said, stretching back in her chair. “What’s the plan for today? Gonna do some more fishing? Wrestle a bear? Forage?”

“How about a walk before it gets too hot?” he suggested, spreading fluff onto a slice of toast.

She eyed him warily. “As long as you're not planning to make us hike up something ridiculous.”

“Just around the area. Nothing strenuous.” He glanced up at her, as she took a slice and picked up the jar of jelly.

“Better not be, I am already starting to waddle a little.”

“Then you better take my arm. You don’t want to fall out here.”

“Yeah, might take you down with me and break your hip!”

Five rolled his eyes as he took a bite of toast.

---

The woods were quiet, the air damp and earthy beneath the filtered morning light. Lila’s boots crunched softly against dried leaves as she walked beside Five, their arms loosely linked. He noticed though, the way her free hand kept drumming against her thigh or fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt.

She was quiet, but not in a peaceful way.

Five glanced over, watching the slight furrow between her brows before turning his eyes back to the uneven ground ahead. The forest trail was littered with roots and dips—a twisted ankle waiting to happen.

“You’ve got a question,” he said, knowing the signs.

She didn’t respond straight away. He could feel her debating.

“I do…” she admitted finally. “Just... wasn’t sure if I should ask it.”

“Then I won’t answer,” he offered with a half-shrug. “But I somehow doubt you’ll offend me.”

A pause. Then, cautiously she started. "It's about Dolores."

She was tiptoeing and it made sense, Five had become more open with discussing her with Lila but that had come from Lila's surprisingly gentle encouragement. "Go on."

"It's just, I've heard that you, in the past, called her your wife."

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but he recognised the quiet curiosity behind it. He wasn't sure what he was expecting her to ask but it was surprising that this was at the forefront of her thoughts.

“I’ve heard that you said it a few times,” she went on, voice lighter now, testing the space between them.

He didn’t answer at first.

Heard that, so it must have meant that Diego mentioned or more likely mocked.  

His gaze flicked up to the shifting canopy above them, then back to the trail, wondering if they both had a laugh about it at the time.

The path curved, climbing slightly. He used the incline to buy time.

He wasn’t entirely sure what she was asking or what she wanted him to tell her. The why was fairly obvious he thought but was she asking how it happened or if he still considered her that way?  

It didn't take long for Lila to clearly feel like she misjudged being able to bring this up and tried to make light of the conversation. "You know, it’s just that I've never seen a ring so-"

Five swallowed, cutting in to hopefully stop the awkward spiral that was unfolding. “I have one.”

“Seriously?” she asked, though her voice held no mockery, only curiosity.

“Yeah. Dolores wanted something simple. A couple of plain bands.”

“You have one?” she echoed, catching the distinction.

Five nodded. Without breaking stride, he slipped his arm free from hers and reached into his left pocket. He pulled out a scuffed, slightly warped, gold band and held it out flat in his palm.

Lila leaned in slightly to look at it. She didn’t reach for it—didn’t try to take it—and he knew he wouldn’t have let her anyway. The ring sat quietly in his palm, unremarkable in its simplicity, but the worn edges and faint scratches made its significance unmistakable.

“How’ve I never seen it before?” she asked. “And why is it just… in your pocket?”

He glanced at her briefly before his eyes returned to the path.

“When I came back, it didn't exactly fit my finger anymore.” He took a breath before continuing to explain. “Didn’t want to lose it, so I shoved it in my pocket. Then, when I changed into my school uniform I moved it to the blazer. I thought it would fall out of my shorts’. After that, I put it in my suit trousers—which I was in when we landed here. Now it just lives in whatever I’m wearing.”

“You’re not pipsqueak size now,” she pointed out gently. “It would fit again.”

She was right, and he had considered it as soon as he realised he was aging in Hotel Obsidian but he also knew it would strike up a conversation that his siblings wouldn’t have understood. Why create more drama just before they were all dead anyway. He wanted to be drunk and forget everything, not spend his last moments explaining himself. So he simply didn’t, he left it in his pocket, always within arm’s reach.

“I don’t need to wear it again,” he said quietly.

She didn’t let the thread drop. “Then why keep it on you?”

Five stopped walking. So did she.

He turned to face her fully, his expression unreadable but not cold.

“You’ve seen me shove my hands in my pockets a lot,” he said. "Ever considered there was a reason behind it?"

Lila smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. I figured it was to look cocky.”

“It’s grounding,” he corrected. “I spent thirty days with everything constantly feeling like it was slipping through my fingers.”

He slid the ring onto the tip of his pointer finger. Rubbed it with his thumb—spinning it around, automatic and familiar. Then, just as quietly, he slipped it off again and tucked it back into his pocket.

“It felt comforting to have something controlled slipping around them instead.”

He held out his arm again. She slid hers through without a word, and they began walking once more.

"I'm glad you didn't lose it during your commission days then."

It sounded sincere.

"Couldn't have, my knuckles had swelled slightly, I couldn't remove it then if I wanted to."

“But they had a no-jewellery policy.”

“I know. They said they’d have to cut it off if I didn’t remove it.” His voice flattened, dry. “I told them if they tried, the pliers would be in their throats before they got the chance.”

Lila snorted. “And they just let it slide?”

“They decided the risk was mine. If I got degloved, it wasn’t their problem.”

A pause.

“Your case file though." she said sounding slightly cautious again, like the next words held the opportunity to hurt or offend. “It said you were single.”

“They only wanted to know for next of kin so I didn't say anything.”

“And no one asked? Even with you wearing a ring?”

“I did, and think I stunned the person into silence at intake,” he replied. “Everyone else just assumed I was, and I didn’t correct them.”

Another thoughtful stretch of silence and by this point Five was not sure if he should be impressed or worried that she was thinking every angle through.

“Hence why you didn’t sleep around?” she asked eventually.

Five let out a low, mirthless chuckle. “You call me touch-starved now... imagine what I was like after crawling out of that hellhole.”

She leaned into him, shoulder nudging his, her face angled away.

“So what does that make you now?” her voice had dropped, quieter, softer. “Divorced, widower, single, or...?”

He tried to glance at her, but could only see the crown of her head where it rested against him. He hesitated—felt the weight of the question land with more precision than her tone let on.

He slipped his arm out of hers, causing Lila to look at him, worry flashed across her face but Five wasn't pulling away. He let his hand drift down her arm until their fingers found each other, twining together. As soon as they did, her free hand found his forearm, placing against it. Leaning back onto his shoulder once more. 

But silence thickened because Five didn’t know what to say.

He’d been waiting for an opening like this. Over the last few days, he’d wanted to bring it up but whenever he tried, whenever he thought it was the right time, it wasn't. Her walls went up, defence high, armour on and her tongue sharp to protect herself against any form of vulnerability which was on display. Making him second guess the moment they had just shared.

He swallowed. “The paperwork doesn’t exist here.”

After all the other questions and statements, he half-expected her to press—what paperwork? Was it legal? Can you even be married without witnesses?—but she didn’t. She just kept walking beside him, quiet, lost in whatever thoughts stirred behind her silence.

Fuck it.

This was his shot. If he waited too long, they’d move on and the moment would vanish. Every other time he’d tried to push, it had backfired. Maybe now, because it was him in the spotlight, him being vulnerable, it would land differently.

“Lila, what—” he began.

But her fingers tightened around his in a tight squeeze. Did she already pre-empt what he was going to try and say or-

As he turned to look at her he saw her free hand press against her bump.

“You okay?” There was no panic in his voice, keeping his tone calm although his eyes widened.

“Fuck. That hurt.”

Five straightened immediately, eyes scanning around. They were about twenty minutes from the cabin and hadn’t passed another soul this way.

“Hurt how?” he asked, eyes sharp now.

“I don’t know. Like someone just electrocuted my crotch.”

She took a breath and stood upright again, wincing but steady.

“Come on. Let’s sit for a minute.”

Lila nodded as Five led her to a tree which had fallen over but she didn’t sit. Instead, she braced her hands on the trunk, leaning into it like she was trying to redistribute her weight.

“I think her head just pressed on something. Like, hit a nerve or whatever.”

Five stood to her side and gently placed a hand on her lower back, rubbing slow, steady circles.

“I read something in the book about taking some of the weight off you,” he murmured. “Want me to try it?”

“Sure,” she said, breathy but trusting.

He stepped behind her, close enough that his waist brushed her hips, and carefully slipped both hands beneath her bump.

“Sorry,” she muttered dryly, “didn’t realise I was signing up for dogging.”

Five rolled his eyes. “Can you stand up straight for a second?”

She eased herself off the log, and he gently lifted from underneath her belly, supporting the weight.

The sigh she let out was instant and full-bodied.

“Ohhh, shit. Yes. That’s better.”

Her head lolled back, resting on his shoulder. Five tucked his own head down against hers, peering over—though from this angle, he couldn’t even see his hands anymore, hidden beneath the swell of her bump.

It looked different from here—how Lila must see it. Bigger, heavier. He wondered how much strain it was already putting on her back. It was only going to get worse in the coming weeks.

Lila sighed again, then tilted her head slightly, gently knocking it against his.

“I might have to get you to do this more often.”

Five huffed a quiet laugh across her neck. “I wouldn’t object.”

“You know,” she said, “you’re not the asshole you make yourself out to be.”

“And you do actually have tact... when you want to use it.”

They stood like that for another minute, until Five’s arms began to ache from the angle.

“Feeling better?” he asked softly, glancing down once more at her belly.

“Yeah, much better, thanks. So you can stop staring down at my tits now.”

“I wasn’t—never mind.” He eased his hands away, slowly returning the weight to her. Then he held out a hand. “C’mon. Let’s take a slow walk back.”

“Yeah. Then we can go for a dip—take the weight off for real.”

He could hear the relief in her voice as she pictured it, but Five wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t know if we should swim in it.”

“Come on, it’ll be fine.” She tugged at his hand like that would somehow speed them up.

“We don’t have swimwear.”

“What’s the difference between a bikini and underwear anyway?” she said, with a cheeky waggle of her eyebrows.

She wasn’t wrong.

“Well, there’s kind of a big difference between swimming trunks and boxers.”

“Not if they’re Speedos. Besides, why are you getting all prudish now? Worried what the cold water might do?”

Lila grinned.

Five shot her a flat look that said you’re not funny.

But she was. Her humour, her crudeness—things that used to make him click his tongue, scowl, shake his head—now threaded through him differently. Now they made him smile. Chuckle. Sometimes even laugh.

Try again, he thought. Bring it up. Talk it out.

Their hands were still joined, fingers locked tight. There was still time. Twenty minutes, at least.

Enjoy it while we can, echoed in his mind.

Maybe that’s exactly what she was doing. What they were doing. Enjoying this for what it was.

Would it be worth bringing something up—something he might’ve only imagined—when Lila could just be letting herself fall into an easy, temporary rhythm?

Didn’t they both deserve that? Even if it was fleeting?

He gave her hand a firmer squeeze—just enough to make Lila glance sideways at him, brow lifting in mild curiosity.

He met her eyes with a small, soft smile.

Her expression softened, lips curving to mirror his.

---

Once they were back at the cabin, Lila wasted no time. She kicked off her boots and immediately began peeling off her clothes.

The water did look tempting. The heat had turned heavy and sticky, and the lake shimmered in the sunlight. It wouldn’t be too cold now—just refreshing. The water looked clear, no signs warning against swimming, no murky algae or scummy edges.

Logically, he couldn’t find a reason to say no. And would Lila even listen if he did?

Unlikely.

She’d already made up her mind. He watched as she opened the back door, stepped out onto the decking, and sat down, dipping her legs into the lake and swinging them back and forth.

“C’mon, Five! Strip down and jump in!”

He sighed, slipping off his shoes and tucking them neatly beside the bed. Then came his t-shirt, belt, jeans, and socks—each folded or stacked in a tidy pile, a sharp contrast to Lila’s clothes strewn across the floor like breadcrumbs.

By the time he wandered out onto the deck, Lila was already watching him with a smirk.

Five paused, keeping a cautious distance—just far enough that Lila couldn’t reach out and yank him in.

“I don’t bite, Five.”

“One, I can categorically say you do,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching. “And two, that grin doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.”

His eyes narrowed playfully as he sat beside her on the decking, still keeping a sensible gap between them, and dipped his feet into the water.

Lila just shook her head and slid in, disappearing under the surface for a moment before popping up and pulling herself up by gripping his legs.

“In ya get, old man.”

“Do you know how many years it’s been since I’ve gone swimming?”

“It’s like riding a bike. You don’t forget.”

She pushed off from him and turned onto her back, floating lazily.

“Does the bump make that easier or harder?” Five called as he carefully slid into the water, keeping his head above the surface.

“Feels weird for sure!” Lila rolled over and swam toward him again, her strokes slow and steady.

Five stretched out, testing for the bottom with his feet, but found nothing. He treaded water while glancing back at the decking. It jutted out over the water more than he’d realised—not the safest setup for kids, he thought absently.

“Look!” Lila squealed with delight.

He turned to see her paddling toward a pair of tiny ducklings bobbing near the reeds.

“Maybe don’t get too close?” he warned.

“Oh, chill. What are they gonna do? Nibble me?”

She reached the ducklings just as Five swam up beside her. The two fluffballs cheeped in protest, and just as he thought aren’t they a bit young to be alone?—he got his answer.

Something pecked him hard on the head, yanking his hair.

“Fuck!”

He ducked under the water instinctively, trying to get away, but the bird was persistent. Every time he surfaced, it was right there, jabbing at him again.

From somewhere behind him, he heard Lila laughing, then a breathless, “Oh shit!” as she swam away from both him and the ducklings.

The mother duck let out one last indignant quack before paddling swiftly back to her young, still keeping a watchful eye on the two intruders.

Lila swam back toward him, still laughing. Five huffed.

“What do you think about duck for dinner?” he grumbled, glaring after the retreating bird.

“Leave them alone. She was just protecting her babies.”

He rubbed at his eye, trying to clear the water. “You know, you’re going to be just as fierce as that hen.”

“Hen? Only you—” splash! “—would know the proper name for a female duck!”

He turned his back to her and started swimming backward, smirking as Lila sent a flurry of water his way.

“You’re gonna be fun teaching that kid ‘Old MacDonald.’ ‘E-I-E-I-O, and on that farm he had a hen, E-I-E-I-O, with a quack-quack here—’ Poor kid’s gonna be so confused—”

Before she could finish, Five flipped and sent a solid wave of water straight at her. It hit her square in the face. She coughed, choked, clearly swallowed some.

Damn it.

Five quickly swam over, grabbing her arms and guiding them around his shoulders so she could cough to the side. He treaded water to keep them both steady.

“You alright?” he asked softly.

She gave a final splutter, nodded, then muttered, “Bastard.”

But her smile was wide, and her arms stayed hooked over his shoulders, shifting just enough to start curling around his neck.

It was like his brain stalled momentarily—legs, arms, all of it forgotten—when he caught the way her eyes flicked down to his lips. A single glance. So fast, if he’d blinked, he might’ve missed it.

He didn’t move.

She was the one coming closer, arms now draped fully around his neck, water lapping against them. A single hand slid up into the back of his drenched hair.

Then—hesitant—her lips brushed his.

They tasted like salt and lake water, metallic and earthy. It didn’t last long. Couldn’t, really—not with the two of them still trying to stay afloat.

“I thought we used your kiss this morning,” Five said, voice rough, a little breathless. His eyes searched hers, caught on the way the water had given them a kind of hazel sheen.

“And I thought you claimed a redo.”

They both smiled, which turned into a chuckle, then into full-on laughter.

“I don’t know about you, but I can't keep this up much longer,” Five admitted, feeling his arms and legs start to go heavy.

“Then float.”

Lila pushed off him, flipping onto her back, effortlessly drifting. Five tried to copy her, but it wasn’t quite as graceful. He managed a sort of slow backstroke instead, needing to keep moving to stay up.

Above them, the sky was a perfect blue, framed by the warm greens and oranges of the trees lining the shore.

It was peaceful.

The rest of the day passed in and out of the water, sharing bottles of cold water and snacks they'd brought along. The fishing rod was baited, cast out, then rested in its holder. This time, Five dragged a couple of dining chairs onto the deck, which was thankfully shaded by the cabin.

Several fish were caught and released. Dinner was already in the fridge, and the thought of another bite of fish still made Five’s stomach twist.

As the sun started to dip, they moved to go into the kitchen, only for Lila to bat Five away with an oven mitt.

“Let me cook,” she insisted. “Say thanks for this little trip away.”

Normally, he’d argue—insist on helping—but he could see what this meant to her. So instead, he offered a quiet nod and stepped aside, letting her have the space.

He grabbed his phone from the side table, checking it for the first time in a couple of days.

Luther:

Hi all, giving plenty of notice so everyone can come. October 1st, big meet-up at the Academy. Dinner, drinks, family time. Hope to see you all there.

RSVP.

Five raised a brow. When was the last time he was with his siblings for a birthday? Hell, when was the last time he actually celebrated one?

He guessed it must have been his 18th.

The day he married Dolores.

Chapter Text

That night, Five dreamt of the apocalypse—but not in the usual way. Not the starving, the suffering, the shivering cold, or the suffocating heat pinning him to his bed. This time, he was seated at a desk, staring down at a sheet of paper with a pen in hand. He had just finished copying a marriage certificate for himself and Dolores.

He glanced down at his charcoal suit, the forest green tie perfectly centred on his chest. Then he turned to see her. She looked exactly as he remembered in that white blouse, the one embroidered with tulips.

He allowed himself a small smile before turning back to the desk. He opened the bottom drawer and retrieved a small navy blue box, slipping it into his pocket before picking up the certificate and walking toward her.

“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his free hand. She didn’t speak.

Speechless, clearly.

So he took her hand—but something was off.

He tried to lift her, pull her towards him, but she wouldn’t move. It was as if she had fused with the bed. Panic made his eye twitch. He tried again, every grip futile. She was anchored in place by some invisible force. He stepped back, ran a hand through his hair before suddenly yelping in pain.

The certificate slipped from his grasp, fluttering to the floor. His hands darted to his thigh, where the ring box had been—but another searing pain shot through him, burning a perfect circle into his palm. The ring melted through his pocket and then fell to the floor, landing on top of the certificate. The paper caught fire immediately, and the gold bled into a puddle of molten metal.

Clutching his wrist, he stared at the perfect brand burned into his skin, then yanked his trousers down to see the angry black mark on his thigh. On the floor, the gold smouldered.

“So what does this make you?”

Dolores’ voice cut through the agony. His head snapped up to meet her gaze.

“What do you mean?” he asked, jaw tight.

“Divorced? Widower? Single? Or...?”

His eyes flicked around—his ring, the box—gone. Nothing remained.

“The paperwork doesn’t exist,” he mumbled.

“Nor do the rings,” Dolores said clearly as he stared at his blistered hand.

“But there will always be scars,” she said softly. “Along with countless others.”

A guttural scream tore from his throat as blood began to seep through his suit—slow, creeping stains from every old wound, every injury from every moment in time. His past poured out of him.

“Just because your past still haunts you,” her voice firm, “doesn’t mean you have to carry it around with you. That ring—it’ll keep burning a hole in you, no matter where you hide it.”

The pain flared again—hand and thigh igniting with agony for emphasis.

“The problem with burns, amore mio, is that they spread. Don’t let it burn a hole in her too, Five.”

Her voice faded.

Another one took its place.

“Five!”

He jolted upright in bed, soaked in sweat, chest heaving. His eyes darted around the room, his hands instinctively rubbing at his skin, feeling it was damp, wet, assumed it was blood until he peeled his hands back unstained.

“Five!”

His name again. He turned his head to the side but beside him was empty.

“You with me?”

He blinked hard, disoriented, as the searing pain in his hand faded into pins and needles. He flexed it—just dead weight from sleeping on it.

“Five?” The voice again—softer now, laced with concern. He looked up and saw her. Lila stood across the room, arms crossed over her stomach but not her usual guarded way.

Why was she standing like that? It wasn’t defensive, it was protective.

“Lila,” he gasped, stumbling out of the bed toward her. But she took a step back, making him halt.

“Lila... did I—did I hurt you, her?”

Her eyes were wide, her body tense, but she gave a small shake of her head. Relief swept through him like cool air.

“Then why are you backing away like that?” he could feel he's eyebrows lifting in worry.

“I wanted to make sure you were awake finally.”

“Finally?” he echoed, heart still thudding.

“You were screaming—like someone was torturing you. I... I couldn’t risk shaking you. I had to keep my distance.”

He nodded. He understood. They both knew the cost of bad dreams could result in worse instincts.

She would block attacks, could even take a few hits, but not there. Not her stomach.

His breath was still ragged, but he tried to force a few deep breaths. Lila slowly moved back over, light on her toes, like she still wasn’t fully convinced it was safe.

So his eyes shifted, no longer focused on her—they turned toward the sofa.

He could sleep there the rest of the night.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Five ignored her, grabbing his pillow. As he turned back around, he nearly walked right into her.

“Move…” It came out too sharp, he softened it. “Please.”

“Get back into bed, Five.”

“Or what?” he asked, attempting to step around her—but she matched his movement easily.

“Or that two-seat sofa is going to get really uncomfortable with three of us on it.”

He stared her down, ready to call her bluff—but that was the thing with Lila. No matter how ridiculous her threats or plans sounded, she always followed through, and she wasn’t smirking. It wasn’t a joke.

“Fine.” He turned, placed the pillow back on the bed, and climbed in, watching as Lila went around the bed and slid in beside him.

It wasn’t that long ago she would’ve just clambered over him without a second thought. His gaze dropped to her bump as they sat side by side in bed.

“If waking her up will calm you down, then go on.” She offered kindly.

“I don’t think it works exactly like that.”

“Which? She can’t calm you down, or you won’t wake her up?”

Both. Neither. Either.

He didn’t say anything. Just let his hand move over the swell of her belly. He couldn’t feel anything. She must’ve been sleeping—like they should be.

After a few more slow passes of his thumb, he let his hand fall away and sank back into the mattress, flat on his back, expecting Lila to curl up and use him as her human pillow.

“Roll over.”

He knew what she meant—she wanted him on his side, so she could hold him from behind—but tonight, that didn’t feel like it would comfort him. If he told her the truth, if he opened up, she’d start connecting dots. She’d assume the nightmare had something to do with the conversation they’d had earlier. And maybe she’d be right.

So he did what he was asked. He rolled onto his right side, settling into the familiar position, but it didn’t bring the comfort it usually did. Her arm wound around him, and for a moment, he just felt… off.

He laced his fingers with hers, offering a gentle squeeze. Maybe if he focused on that, he could ignore the knot in his stomach.

Closing his eyes, he repeated the words like a mantra.

Day forty-eight, day forty-eight.

Not that it mattered. There was no alcohol in the cabin.

Lila, surprisingly, fell asleep quickly, her breathing steady against his neck. Five took a deep breath, his words barely audible. “I don’t consider myself single. Not because of the other options—because I wouldn’t be with anyone else. I know our friends with benefits isn’t exclusive, but I consider us as such.”

The hairs on the back of his neck were prickled, hyperaware of her breathing but the steady rhythm of her breath against his skin was suddenly absent.

“Are you awake?” His voice was still quiet, barely more than a whisper.

It was like she’d forgotten how to breathe—or maybe he was overthinking it. Just as he was about to turn, to check, a soft exhale warmed the back of his neck, smoothing down his hairs. He let out a small sigh of relief and closed his eyes again.

The next morning, checkout was at ten. They moved around the cabin wordlessly, not avoiding each other but not lingering either. Five dumped the rest of the bait into the lake, packed the rod and tackle away. Lila folded clothes and zipped up bags and repacked the food.

By nine-forty-five, everything was in the car. The fishing gear had been returned. They were on the road again.

Five glanced sideways at her now and then. She was turned toward the window, head tilted against the glass, the morning sun painting light into her hair. The radio was on low, soft rock playing, but she didn’t hum or complain about the station or tap her fingers against the door like she normally would.

She wasn’t distant, just still.

Shit. She had heard.

Five gripped the steering wheel just a little tighter.

“Everything okay?” he asked, knowing the answer might not be truthful and knowing he probably wouldn't blame her either way.

“Just thinking,” she said.

He nodded, eyes flicking back to the road. Logically there could be a hundred things she could be thinking about, and he wouldn’t push. She never pushed him when he went silent—just left the question hanging in the air like a door left ajar. He had appreciated that more than once.

“The next time we have a holiday,” she said after a pause, “she’ll be here. I doubt it’ll be as simple as opening a laptop and booking something last minute.”

That was what she was concerned about? Going away again? Maybe last night didn’t cause a disaster like he was fretting it was.

We.

“Why not?”

“Have all her stuff to consider too,” Lila replied, her tone lighter, but thoughtful.

“Travel cot, pushchair or wrap, milk, clothes, diapers, toys…” Five listed automatically, barely needing to think about it.

That made her laugh—finally. A soft, real sound that cracked the tension. She turned from the window, angling toward him with a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Right. And how many bags did we take for just the two of us?”

“Two. One for clothes. One for food.”

“I’m not saying it’s impossible, just… not spontaneous anymore. Not without prep. Plus, if Diego will even allow it, I guess.” She gave a small shrug, eyes falling briefly to her lap. “I don’t know how any of that works.”

Five’s thumb rubbed the stitching on the wheel debating how much to say.

“Depends if he’s on the birth certificate,” he said finally. “If he is, then yeah—he’ll have parental rights. But that’s only if he agrees to sign it. If he doesn’t, it can stay blank. He won’t have a say over her.”

That made her look at him properly. The faint humour from earlier was gone, replaced with something curious.

“That sounds like you’ve done some research,” she said gently.

He had. A couple quiet afternoons with the laptop while she napped. He hadn’t been sure when to bring it up—didn’t even know if he should bring it up—but the information had been too important to ignore.

“I thought you’d want to know this stuff ahead of time. Before the day.”

A beat passed before she asked, “Out of curiosity, what else can you have down for a dad?”

“If you’re married, the husband’s presumed to be the father. Otherwise, there’s voluntary acknowledgment—someone choosing to take legal responsibility, biological or not. But it’s a crime to put a non-biological father down with intent to defraud, for example to get a child to inherit something or more likely, medical insurance.”

Lila blinked, still looking at him. Her hand came up to rub idly at the stretch of skin just beneath her ribs.

“How soon does the form have to be filled in?”

“They’re usually done at the hospital. Before discharge.”

He heard a sigh escape her. “Guess it’s just more stuff to talk over with Diego.”

Five gave a small nod, eyes still concentrating on driving—but he noticed how she didn’t turn back to the window. She was still angled toward him, the quiet no longer quite so distant.

“So…” she said breaking the silence with her tone edging toward mischief. “You planning on getting anything for your siblings?”

“Why would I be getting them anything?”

Lila gave a dramatic sigh, as if the answer physically hurt her. “Oh wow. Social norms have completely left the car, huh? Isn’t it meant to be everyone’s thirtieth this year? Of course, I use the words ‘meant to be’ loosely,” she added, “because let’s face it—Dallas really did a number on that one.”

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder,” Five muttered, rolling his eyes.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Are you really not going to get them anything?”

He shot her a sidelong look. “Isn’t me being back a present enough?”

“Arrogant git.” She tutted.

He smirked at that, just for a moment, but the mood dipping subtly.

“No,” he said eventually. “I really wasn’t planning to. Christmas, birthdays—I couldn’t care less about them, honestly.”

“I see.”

Her voice lost a bit of its teasing edge, tapering into something quieter. Not disappointed exactly, but a little dulled at the edges.

“Did you…” he began, debating about continuing. “Did you ever celebrate anything at the Commission?”

“It was a bit complicated,” Lila replied. “Everything was outside of time, so technically nothing ever happened when it was supposed to.” She paused and Five saw she was watching the scenery blur by. “But yeah. Mum took me to restaurants in different countries over the years. An excuse for her to dress even more flamboyantly would you believe. I guess you could say it was nice.”

The Handler and nice in the same sentence felt about as natural as oil and water, but Five supposed it was something. Still, the mental image didn’t sit well. The Handler twirling pasta in Rome or ordering steak in Buenos Aires, acting like a parent for a few hours—it was unsettling.

And that was just it.

It wasn’t just his siblings’ birthdays she was reminding him of. It was hers too.

He’d brushed it off like it meant nothing, but now it stuck in his chest like a pebble in a shoe. If he didn’t care about birthdays, fine—but should he care about hers? Would it be awkward now, if he got her something? Would she even want that from him?

Not like she could get him anything easily. Although, knowing Lila, stealing something wasn’t entirely off the table.

---

When they got back, they unpacked. Both pulled out their laptops and settled in to check their online learning—Five figuring out when his first lecture would be, Lila deciding which exam she wanted to tackle first.

The rest of the day passed smoothly. Five defrosted some meat for dinner. When he placed the plate in front of her, Lila leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. After they ate, they found their usual positions on the sofa for a bit, then finally headed upstairs for bed.

They shuffled into the bathroom at the same time, brushing their teeth side by side, quiet and companionable. But when they stepped out, they stopped—facing their respective bedroom doors, glancing at each other, neither speaking first.

“Night,” Five said quietly as he opened his door.

He heard her echo the word just before her own door clicked shut behind her.

Inside, he switched on the lamp and began to undress. He pulled off his t-shirt, reached to undo his trousers—but paused. Instead, he slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out the ring.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched, Five turned it slowly between his fingers. He hadn’t been without it—not really—for forty years.

He placed it on the bedside table, but it looked out of place there. Wrong. He opened the drawer and gently tucked it into the left-hand side before closing it again. His hand lingered on the handle.

He always kept it tucked inside a piece of clothing—always ready. It hadn’t fit him in the month whilst he was running, trying to fix everything, but if something happened in the middle of the night—if he had to move—he could pull on those trousers or that jacket without thinking. The ring would come with him.

And then, after the reset, it didn’t feel right to wear it anymore—but it didn’t feel right to be without it, either.

Just because your past still haunts you, Dolores’ voice echoed in his mind, doesn’t mean you have to carry it with you. That ring—it’ll keep burning a hole in you, no matter where you hide it.

He was moving on, just like he’d promised. But he hadn’t thought about this. About how it might look to Lila if he kept carrying it around.

It wasn’t like being widowed. That kind of grief made allowances. But Dolores hadn’t been real. How would Lila really view him keeping it?

His hand dropped from the drawer.

Sitting there longer than he meant to, staring at nothing, until he’d finally slid beneath the covers.

The sheets were colder than he expected.

They didn’t sleep together every night—just now and then—but after two nights away, after being in each other’s space so completely, the emptiness beside him felt sharper than usual. He hadn’t expected to feel so lonely returning to his own bed.

A faint knock came at the door.

“Yeah?”

It creaked open. Lila stood there with the pregnancy pillow slung over her shoulder.

“I was just thinking…” she began, stepping slightly further into the room. “Just, after last night—I don’t know about you, but sometimes when I have a bad dream, they repeat. For a few nights.”

Five pushed himself upright, resting against the headboard. He tilted his head, studying her.

“More reason for you to stay in your own room, don’t you think?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If you think I make it less likely for you to have another one.”

She wasn’t smug. She looked unsure of herself, uncertain in the way she hovered by the door—like she half-expected him to say no.

If he had another nightmare like last night, she’d probably hear it anyway. The difference though was she could keep a door between them, a safe amount of space.

His gaze shifted briefly to the corner of the bed—where the knife lived. Maybe it was time to stop that habit. Not just Lila picking it up and placing it on the landing until morning, but properly—putting it back in the kitchen. Permanently.

“I’ll put it where I normally do,” Lila offered, stepping forward to reach for it.

But Five gently stopped her hand.

“Get comfy,” he said. “Just leave enough room for me to sleep somewhere.”

He stood, picked up the knife himself, and headed downstairs. In the kitchen, he placed it in the sink to be washed in the morning.

Then his eyes drifted to the cupboard.

A swig.

Just enough to dull his thoughts, keep the dreams away.

Or maybe a bit more?

A few gulps.

If he drank it quickly, she’d never know. It would hit once she was asleep.

He opened the cupboard. Took out the half-drunk bottle. Popped the cap—and poured it straight down the drain. Watched it swirl and vanish, every last drop. He left the bottle upside down in the sink, letting it drain completely.

It had been easier in the cabin, temptation was there but nothing in reach. But now he was back home? He had thought he was strong enough not to need to get rid of it but now there were going to be new stresses, new pressures. It was so easy to unwind with a glass and easier still to use it as a crutch for a bad day.

It wasn’t worth the risk. Better the alcohol went down the drain than the forty-eight days.

When he returned upstairs, Lila was already in bed, lying on her left side, hugging the pillow like it was threatening to fall off the edge. She’d left a comfortable amount of space behind her and she wasn’t asleep—not yet.

Five climbed in the bed and tapped her gently on the shoulder.

She turned—and before she could speak, he kissed her. He hadn’t used his one kiss of the day, and this felt like a good reason to cash it in. She let go of the pillow and rolled onto her back as he deepened it, letting her taste every inch of his mouth.

When he finally pulled away, she blinked at him.

“What was that for?”

“I needed you to know,” he said softly, “that when you see the empty whiskey bottle downstairs tomorrow… it’s because I poured it away. Not drank it.”

He didn’t wait for her response. He lay down, ready to roll onto his side but her arm slipped around him, pulling him close. Her head rested on his chest, the pillow hitting the floor with a soft thud, his hand found her shoulder.

---

Over the next few days, excuses were created with ease to end up in each other’s beds. The second night back was the simplest of all. Lila had merely wiggled her eyebrows at him from across the sofa, a silent, mischievous invitation, and Five had wordlessly followed her upstairs.

The night after that, she asked him to read over more of the pregnancy book. She’d made it three paragraphs in before falling asleep with her head on his shoulder.

Then came the disaster film—something they’d flicked onto by accident and ended up watching out of sheer curiosity. At first, it was all jokes. They poked fun at the terrible decisions the characters made, laughing at how ridiculous it all was. “No one would actually do that,” Lila had scoffed more than once. There were explosions, fire, and eventually, a world-ending comet.

But when the credits rolled, the humour drained away.

Neither of them said anything.

Just found themselves upstairs, crawling into Five’s bed without a word.

After that, it just became the routine. No negotiation. No discussion. Just two people instinctively reaching for each other when the day was done.

Sex began to fade into the background. It didn’t vanish entirely, but it was less frequent now—Lila was more tired, her body growing heavier by the week, and comfort became more important than desire. But to his own quiet surprise, Five didn’t miss it in the way he thought he might. He’d always enjoyed sex with her, but he hadn’t realised until recently that what he truly craved wasn’t the act itself—it was the closeness. The connection. Even before the rules between them had started to blur. And now that he was getting that same sense of intimacy in other ways—sharing a bed, laughing over coffee, hearing her breathing steady beside him—affection was finding smaller, softer ways to surface.

Kisses became gentle things, still only one each a day but instead of finding a moment to catch the others lips, they were sprinkled throughout the day. A kiss on the cheek as one passed the other a steaming mug, a quick peck before settling at their laptops, an absent-minded brush of fingers across a shoulder in the kitchen. Moments that didn’t demand attention, but potentially said everything neither of them were willing to.

For all that they were in each other’s pockets, they still carved out space for themselves. Lila would disappear into her room for naps, or just to study in her room. Five often retreated to the library, finding books on topics he needed to do more research on.

Lila kept up with her weekly calls to Anita and Ronnie, retreating to her room for privacy. She almost always shared the highlights with Five afterward, and he noticed the shift in her voice—still guarded, but tinged with a hopeful lift whenever she talked about their visit in the new year. She brought it up often, checking and then double-checking that he was really sure they could stay with them.

“As long as they know they won’t be getting any sleep either,” he’d joke.

But that led to a different kind of question.

“Which room should the cot go in?” Five asked one afternoon, peering up from his laptop mid-sentence, rubbing his eyes. He realised too late that his question hadn’t come out as a complete sentence.

“In with me?” Lila called from the kitchen. She was pouring herself a glass of water while preparing his third cup of coffee for the day.

“No, I mean—we know she’ll be with us. But which room are we going to have? We haven’t settled on one yet.”

He watched as Lila walked over with the coffee. She didn’t answer immediately, which told him she had a preference—she just didn’t want to push it.

“How about yours?” she said eventually, placing the cup down in front of him. “It’s at the back of the house. Less traffic. Less noise.”

He could see how uncertain she still was about all this, how careful she was trying to be—like choosing a room somehow made a statement. But to him, it made perfect sense. It changed nothing about what they already were.

He reached over and kissed her on the cheek, the same easy kiss he’d given a dozen times before—but this time, she turned with a small smile and caught his lips with hers in return. Wordless agreement.

Midweek, however, brought an unexpected shift. Ronnie called out of the blue, and Lila picked up whilst they were both sat on the couch. She didn’t excuse herself this time, instead putting the phone on loudspeaker, clearly already expecting something.

The news wasn’t good. Some thugs had smashed the front window of the shop. Not even a proper robbery—just mindless damage. They hadn’t lost money, thanks to making sure they emptied the register at night, but the window was big. Expensive. Anita was too upset to discuss it with Lila, so Ronnie had taken it upon himself to explain.

They needed to postpone the trip. Not cancel it—just delay a few months so they could save up again.

Five watched the way Lila handled it—gracefully, without letting even a flicker of disappointment slip through. She reassured Ronnie it was fine, that there was no rush. That the baby wasn’t going anywhere, and they were welcome whenever they could manage it.

Her voice didn’t betray her. But Five saw the sheen in her eyes when she ended the call, the tightness around her mouth, the way her thumb nail aggressively attacked at a finger. Then, how she said she was tired and disappeared into her room without another word.

That was when it struck him—exactly what he could do for her birthday.

He could pay for her parents to come over, just like they’d planned.

He took out his phone and scrolled to Anita’s number—saved from month or two ago. They hadn’t spoken directly since that first time he called her outside the library. She was probably still upset about the shop, but maybe this would lift her spirits too.

He typed out a message quickly, thumbs hesitating for a second before hitting send.

Five:

Sorry to hear about your shop. I hope it doesn’t take long to get fixed. I’d like to pay for your tickets to come out here in January, like we were arranging.

The three dots didn’t appear right away. He set his phone down and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think how to persuade her if she said no—and she did, barely a minute later.

Anita:

That’s very kind of you, but we couldn’t accept that. You’ve got enough on your plate without adding us financially to it.

Five sighed. Of course she’d say that.

He stood up, paced a little. He understood but dammit, he wasn’t offering out of pity—it was because it mattered to Lila. People made such a big deal about birthdays—maybe that was the angle. He picked up his phone again.

Five:

It’s Lila’s 30th next week. She’s been looking forward to meeting you. Please?

His thumbnail skimmed the stubble along his jaw. It felt strange to be this close to begging over text. Not exactly his style—but he meant it.

This time, Anita took longer to reply.

Anita:

You’re a kind partner. Okay, shall we come from 13/01/20 to 17/01/20? Are you sure that’s still okay with you?

Relief bloomed quickly, but he kept the reply simple.

Five:

Done. I’ll send you the details once I’ve booked it.

Chapter Text

Five noticed it almost immediately—how Lila’s spark dimmed after the call with Ronnie. Her usual energy seemed to drain away, replaced by long, quiet stretches of retreating to her room, no longer with the excuse of studying, but more often just for naps.

They had agreed that Five’s room would be their room going forward, but during the day, she still drifted back into her own space. He didn’t push it—not yet. Besides, it made sorting a few things out that bit easier.

One time, when she said she was going to lie down, he rushed to the shops with the car. Grabbed a week’s worth of shopping, along with a first-stage formula tub he’d been waiting for the right time to get. One kilogram wouldn’t last long—apparently anything between five to ten days depending on how hungry a newborn was—but it was something. A just in case. If her supply didn’t come in or something else happened. It was there.

When he returned, she was still presumably in her room. He took the tub and placed it under the stairs, right at the back, hidden behind the big bottles of water.

Five unpacked the rest of the food before making his way upstairs with a glass of water, knocking as quietly as possible on her door.

No answer.

He opened it, finding her fast asleep. As silently as any trained assassin could be, he crossed the room, placed the glass of water down beside her bed, and slipped back out, gently closing the door behind him.

Unsure how much longer Lila would sleep, he grabbed a notebook and ripped out a page, scribbling: ‘Gone to the library.’

With that, he picked up a couple of books he needed to return and exchange for some others—but that was the second priority. The first was to use the library computers, so he could access their printers.

He could’ve booked the flights from home, using his laptop—but he wanted the confirmation printed. Something he could fold into a card, or hand over to her, he wasn’t sure how yet.

The only problem was her mood. If it kept dipping like this, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to wait much longer to give her the surprise.

After some back-and-forth with Anita, Five had managed to convince them to stretch the trip—adding a day on either end to make up for travel time and jet lag. It only seemed fair.

Five:

Flights booked for 12/01/20 – 18/01/20. Emailed over the bookings so you can log in and check in, etc. closer to the time.

He got a polite thank-you in return, handed back the couple of books to the librarian, and checked out two different ones before heading home.

When he got back, she’d emerged from her room, laptop tucked under one arm, a cup of tea in the other, as she settled herself on the sofa.

“Are you going to study?” he asked, making his way into the kitchen and picking up the kettle, giving it a quick shake to see if there was enough water left for coffee.

“Yep. Social studies,” she muttered, flipping open the screen. “I think maths and English will be fine, but who the fuck knows when it comes to all your constitutions.”

“Anything in particular you want to go over?”

“Nah,” she replied with a shrug. “I’ve got a prep course for it. Just making my way through.”

He nodded and leaned against the counter, watching her as she laid back and propped the laptop on her bump.

“I’m going to tell her, you know,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“What?” She glanced over her shoulder, brow furrowed.

“That you used her as a coffee table.”

Lila let out a short huff through her nose—half a laugh, half a sigh. He caught the smallest twitch at the corner of her mouth before she turned back to the computer.

A twitch.

And that was more than he’d seen in days.

---

Ronnie and Anita called—off-schedule, the night before their birthday. Five expected Lila to slip upstairs like usual, but this time she didn’t. She answered from the sofa, resting back into the cushions and holding the phone to her ear. She glanced toward the TV, checking if it was something Five cared about watching.

He gave a slight shake of his head, giving a pointed look towards his book before he picked up the TV remote and muted it.

It made sense, he supposed. The last time she’d taken a call from them, it had been to break bad news. Maybe she wanted him nearby this time—on the off chance more bad news were to follow.

Five kept his eyes on the book in his lap, trying not to eavesdrop. But every now and then, he glanced over. The conversation seemed ordinary enough—pleasantries, updates about the shop. The new window was due in a few days, and they were just hoping the boards would hold out until then. They wished them both a happy birthday for the next day, knowing they’d be busy with the meet-up.

But as the conversation stretched on, Lila’s responses started getting shorter. Her voice dimmed. Her gaze drifted.

Eventually, she used the same phrase she’d repeated all week. “I’m getting tired, so I’m going to go lie down for a bit.”

He could hear Ronnie and Anita encouraging her—telling her to listen to her body, to get some rest. But as soon as the call ended, Lila stood up, walked past Five, picked up the remote, turned the sound back on, passed it to him without a word, and made her way upstairs.

It was just after 8 p.m and they’d already eaten. If she really napped now, she probably wouldn’t sleep well later.

He listened carefully to the door closing upstairs. It didn’t sound like hers. Her bedroom door had a very particular click to it—the latch bolt always hit a bit sharper than his. This one was quieter.

She’d gone into his room. 

Unmuting the TV was no doubt, her version of saying don’t follow me. But the fact she’d gone into their bedroom meant she knew he would join her sooner or later.

He got up, filled the kettle, and lit the stove. He would give her a few minutes, bring up a warm drink—see if maybe she’d prefer company rather than stewing in whatever thought spiral she was in alone.

He carried the mugs up and knocked on the door with his foot before frowning at himself. Knocking on his own bedroom door was… weird. But then again, it wasn’t just his anymore.

When there was no reply—or at least none he could hear—he pushed down on the doorhandle with his elbow.

“Made tea,” he said quietly.

She was curled up on his side of the bed, hugging her pillow, eyes open but unfocused.

He placed her tea on the bedside table, then walked around and sat on the edge of the other side of the bed, cupping the warmth in his hands, waiting. If she asked him to leave, he would.

But then she finally murmured something. “They sound happy.” There was a pause before the next words came out, sounding defeated. “Maybe the whole window breaking was a blessing. Gave them the perfect excuse.”

“They said they still wanted to come. As soon as they could.”

Five twisted on the bed, looking at her, one knee up on the mattress while the other foot stayed planted on the ground.

“Right,” she said bitterly. “Until something else happens. Then that excuse takes over. Then the next, and the next.”

Five raked a hand through his hair, then smoothed it across the back of his neck, down his jaw, until his hand came to rest over his mouth, thinking. He couldn’t keep it from her any longer. If he did, it wouldn’t be a nice surprise anymore. It would start to feel like a lie—something he’d kept from her—and that would feel more cruel than kind.

He got up, crossed to the wardrobe, and opened it. Standing on his toes, he reached to the back of the top shelf, feeling around until his fingers brushed against what he was looking for.

The rustling caught her attention. She rolled onto her back and gave him a puzzled look.

He came back over, getting onto the bed this time and sitting beside her, holding out the envelope.

“Here.”

Lila pushed herself upright with effort, took the envelope from him, looking at it slightly suspiciously. “What’s this?”

In a soft voice he said, “look inside.”

Inside was a plain card. ‘Happy Birthday’ embossed in gold across the front.

As she opened it up, a folded piece of paper slid out and landed in her lap.

Lila blinked, brow furrowing as she unfolded it.

“They weren’t upset, Lila, because they had no more reason to be. They’re still coming—same dates as previously agreed, just with a little buffer for travel and jetlag.”

“I—I thought you didn’t do birthday presents.” Lila looked up from the paper, meeting his eyes. They were watery again, like they had been most days that week—but the smile tugging at the corners of her lips made his stomach settle.

“I made an exception.”

“Why?” The question came out quickly, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to come at her and hurt her.

And that was just it. If he told her why—really why—it still had the potential to do that. He needed her not to be asking why, but to approach it knowingly, not with the kind of questioning that suggested she still couldn’t trust his judgement. That he might still be confusing thoughts and feelings in his head.

So he would let her decide. Draw her own conclusions—for now.

“You know why.”

---

That night, Five foolishly hoped for a restful evening.

He told himself that with Lila finally knowing her parents were still coming, maybe they’d both sleep better. But instead, they just took turns waking up in a cold sweat. And if it wasn’t that, Lila was getting up to use the bathroom.

Each time they stirred, neither seemed eager to speak about what was on their mind. No questions were asked. They simply reached for each other—silent, sleepy, seeking comfort in half-hearted embraces before turning over again, chasing sleep.

Five assumed what was bothering her was the same things bothering him: the family, the looming dinner, Allison being a complete wildcard—and the need to corner Diego about the birth certificate. Maybe even the birth itself.

None of it was going to be easy. With so many flashpoints for tension—or an outright fight—it was already giving him a headache.

At some point, when Five had finally slipped into sleep, the alarm screamed.

He groaned, grabbed his phone and blindly thumbed at it until it shut off, and let his eyes close again. Just for a moment. One second more.

He lay still, staring up at the ceiling.

The tarp overhead fluttered in the cold breeze sweeping through the library.

He winced.

That wasn’t right.

Something in his stomach turned, a twist of wrongness he couldn’t place.

He scrunched his nose, eyes drifting shut again as he shifted beneath Dolores’ arm. It felt oddly heavy today.

“Happy birthday,” came a soft voice beside him.

“Grazie, amore mio,” he mumbled, barely thinking, his brain still lagging behind.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times.

The tarp was gone.

This wasn’t the library.

He was back in his room.

The subtle movement in the air was just the curtain stirring with the breeze from the slightly ajar window.

“What was that?” the voice asked.

It wasn’t Dolores.

Shit.

“I said, good morning,” he recovered quickly, clearing his throat and forcing his tone into something light, offhand.

But his chest was tight. And his brain was already spiralling.

When the hell was this going to stop?

The crossovers weren’t fading, just slipping in through the cracks when his guard was down. He thought he was good at compartmentalising. His past. His present. Neat boxes with reinforced walls. But lately, the boxes had started to leak. The lines were smudging. Dolores’s voice. Lila’s voice. His own voice—looping and misfiring in half-sleep or nightmares.

Was it because he was opening up now? Actually talking, letting things out? Suddenly there were parallels his brain could draw. Comparisons it could make. Questions it could ask or plague him with.

It could mess everything up.

Why hadn’t this been a problem before?

Maybe it was the adrenaline, the novelty of something new to start with was enough of a distraction. But now, it was starting to become routine, domesticated even, his brain had started to relax and there were no nightcaps to keep it blank. 

He let out a sharp breath through his nose and rolled over, only to feel the bulk of the pregnancy pillow wedged between them now. 

It wasn’t usual to wake up with it between them but after last night’s tossing and turning, he doubted Lila had been particularly comfortable so it made sense to fall asleep in any way she could. If she could.

“Did you get any sleep?” Five yawned, his eyes threatening to shut again, though he kept them on her face. He needed the focus—on this, on her—something to pull him out of the dazed fog still clinging to him.

So he studied her.

The faint crease at the corners of her eyes as she squeezed them shut. The way her hair curled, tangled from sleep. The darker spots dusting her cheekbones and nose—freckle-like, but not freckles. Melasma, he’d learned. A subtle shift that had come since the second trimester.

She was warm. Yawning. Alive. Here.  

Lila shook her head. “How about you?” she murmured, fingertips brushing down his arm.

Damn, he needed that. Those soft, grounding touches.

He caught her hand, gave it a light squeeze, then let go. “Same. Probably. We’ve got a busy day.”

“What time did Luther want everyone there?” she asked, continuing the thread.

“Midday. So… less than an hour.” He latched onto the distraction, let it anchor him in the now. Plans. Family. Her.

He was back.

Lila nodded, then pushed herself out of bed and left the room. She looked just as wrecked as he felt. Most of her clothes were still in her room, with only the occasional top or pair of underwear slowly migrating into his drawers.

Five swung his legs out of bed and stretched, hands braced behind him until his spine gave a satisfying click. He wandered to the wardrobe and glanced over what little he had. A suit would’ve been nice—something smart for the occasion—but he hadn’t replaced his one from Hotel Obsidian. The suit blazer was too tight but the white shirt from the attire would do, as long as he didn’t button it all the way up, it would still sit comfortably on his neck. Which was fine, he wasn’t going to bother with a tie anyway. Just throw on a jumper over the top for warmth. The Academy was colder than their place—big rooms, high ceilings, harder to heat.

By the time he made it downstairs, it appeared Lila was still upstairs.

He flicked the coffee pot on and leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting.

When she finally entered the kitchen dressed in her maternity black jeans and white polo-neck, her hands were tucked behind her back, and she looked weirdly stiff.

“So... I, uh... didn’t have any wrapping paper,” she began, shifting her weight awkwardly. “…can you, like, close your eyes? And put your hands out?”

Five raised a brow but obliged, slowly holding out his hands and closing his eyes.

He heard her step closer, felt her fingers start fussing with his jumper, pushing it up, then fiddling with his shirt sleeve. When it wouldn’t move far enough, she undid the cuff.

“Did you really have to wear a shirt today?” she muttered. It sounded like a joke, but her voice was tight—nervous.

Then came a soft pop-pop sound.

“There... you can open your eyes now.”

He opened them and looked at her first. Her eyes were fixed on his wrist, like she was bracing for something.

He followed her gaze down.

On his wrist was a thick black leather band, about an inch and a half wide. He turned his arm over and saw it fastened with a couple of poppers. It looked adjustable—more studs for loosening or tightening, though it fit snugly as it was. Around it, a braided strand of three thinner leather cords was wrapped, weaving over and under the band.

He ran his thumb along it, feeling the softness, the subtle texture. Slipping a finger under it, he realised it was lined too.

“Where did you get it?” he asked, still tracing over the details.

“I... made it,” Lila said, then rushed to explain. “I know it’s basically arts and crafts at this point, but I wanted to get you something. Which is kind of impossible, all things considered. So... I cut up the leather jacket I had when I arrived. And, um, your emergency sewing kit—it’s not in the kitchen drawer anymore, it’s in my room, just so you don’t freak out if you go looking for it. And yeah, I know it’s not much. But I wanted to give you something. So happy birthday. First one in, what, forty-five years?”

He looked up just in time to catch her giving a quick, self-conscious shrug, like she fully expected him to laugh or brush it off.

“And don’t take it the wrong way,” she added quickly, rambling now. “It’s not to replace anything. I just thought—with today—you, um… other than shoving your hands in your pockets, you also… smooth fabric when you’re stressed.”

Did he?

“And I can imagine today’s going to be exactly that. First time around your family for a birthday in years, and knowing Luther, he’s going to try and force the whole happy family’s thing…” She trailed off. “So I thought it’d give you something else to fiddle with…”

Her voice faded. She really didn’t sound like she knew where she was going with this anymore—but he understood. 

Something else.

“Actually,” Five murmured, letting go of the bracelet, “it gives me something to fiddle with.”

His hand drifted to his left trouser pocket. He pulled it inside out, the fabric dangling limply. Lila’s eyes immediately flicked to the other one, suspicion plain on her face.

He smirked. “You don’t believe me.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly but didn’t answer.

With a quiet chuckle, Five turned the right pocket inside out as well. “If you want to check the back pockets, be my guest.”

Lila took the offer, maybe half as a joke, half out of real curiosity. Her hands slid into his back pockets, tugging herself closer in the process. Her head nestled into the curve of his neck. Five’s arms dropped instinctively, folding over hers, crossing at the small of her back.

He wondered if she could hear how hard his heart was thudding—or feel it, echoing through his chest and into hers.

“Where is it?” she asked, voice small. Like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

“In the drawer upstairs,” he said softly.

“Why?”

“It started feeling… heavy to carry.”

Five didn’t want to stay on that topic. Not now. This moment wasn’t about that. It was about her. About this.

He tilted his head, brushing his temple lightly against hers—a silent nudge for her to lean back just enough so he could see her face.

She did, pulling back just slightly—only for a moment—just long enough for him to lean in and kiss her. Slow. Tender.

When he drew away, his voice was quiet but certain. “Thank you. It’s thoughtful.”

His thumb was already moving over the braided strands behind her.

The gentle motion—smoothing, testing—was subtle, but likely enough to make her realise he was feeling it, appreciating it.

And then he saw it—that smile. Not the cheeky one she used to deflect or the sarcastic grin she wore like armour. Just a soft, genuine smile. She looked younger somehow, like someone who wasn’t used to praise, or hadn’t received it in a long time.

He knew The Handler too well. Even if Lila had ever got a ‘good job’ from her, it would’ve come with a ‘but’, some backhanded insult to drag her back down.

Damn it, for waking up so late! He wanted to take her hand and lead her back upstairs—for once—staying wrapped up in this.

And she must’ve sensed it—or maybe felt it between them, in the warm closeness they were still sharing—because that soft smile shifted into a knowing smirk.

Her hands gave his arse a deliberate squeeze that pulled a low moan from his throat.

Then she backed away slightly, withdrawing her hands, teasingly casual.

“C’mon, we need to make a move.”

Five glanced down at his watch. They still had another fifteen minutes before they really had to leave.

“But—” he started, only for Lila to cut him off.

“We still need to hit the shops. Can turn up without gifts—but we should probably bring a dish or something.”

He let out a small sigh, knowing she was right.

His eyes drifted once more to the band, about to tug down his cuff and sleeve, when a hand on his cheek gently redirected his gaze. And this time, it was her lips on his.

A couple of soft moans escaped between them before Lila pulled back, tapping his cheek playfully—twice.

“Later.”

Now the soft smile on her lips was laced with promise.

He wanted to lean in again, to kiss her one more time and seal the deal for tonight—but they’d both already used up their one kiss for the day, and the logical part of his brain knew better than to push it.

—

Popping into the shop on their way over, Five grabbed a cheese board and some crackers. He had no idea what Luther was planning for dinner, but figured this was a safe bet—something for before or after the meal that wouldn’t interfere with whatever was already being cooked. He made sure to include a block of pasteurised cheddar so Lila would have something to pick at, steering clear of the soft and mould-ripened cheeses. Those were off the table for her—and honestly, for him too. Anything with mould was an immediate no.

Lila shot him a questioning look as he placed the blue cheese into the basket.

“It was Viktor’s favourite when we were kids,” he said with a small shrug, before heading off to find some grapes to go with it.

When they arrived at the Academy, it looked like everyone else had just turned up too. Allison was expected—but the little girl standing beside her, hand tucked into her mother’s, was a surprise. Claire. It would be nice to finally meet her. And her being here probably meant Allison would cause less trouble, which was a welcome relief.

But the real shock was the person hovering awkwardly off to the side scowling, visibly questioning his life choices as Klaus bombarded him with a million and one questions.

Ben.

Chapter Text

It seemed like Five and Lila walking in together ended up being the excuse Ben was looking for. He moved to almost push Klaus aside but instead of resisting, he leapt dramatically out of the way, avoiding all physical contact. Those bright blue sterile gloves sticking out like a sore thumb.

Ben approached and stopped squarely in front of Lila, gesturing broadly toward her torso.

“Well holy shit. You two walk in and she’s that pregnant? What’d you do—hook up right away?”

Five’s eyes flicked to Allison, watching her subtly let go of Claire’s hand and placing both of her hands over her ears, in a futile effort to block whatever came next. He tilted his head a little, noting several suitcases just behind them but was quickly pulled back to looking at Lila as she snapped at Ben.

“You really are as dumb as you look,” Lila’s voice was confident, bitter and after gesturing towards her belly, she quickly folded her arms across her. “You think this is what five months looks like? Try closer to seven—and a bit. It’s still Diego’s.”

Ben blinked. “Wait—if you’re still pregnant with that moron’s baby, why the hell did you walk in with this idiot?”

Five rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lila continued with venom, he hadn’t seen her be like this in, a long time. It was strangely nice, seeing some energy pouring out of her. “Maybe because I can. I know you didn’t have manners before, but what the hell have you been doing these last few months—living in a sewer? Even without your weird tentacles, your stinking attitude would fit right in.”

“Okay, okay, enough everyone!” Luther cut in, stepping forward like a well-meaning camp counsellor. “Can we just be happy everyone’s here? When’s the last time we did something like this?”

“Oh! I know! Dad’s funeral,” Klaus chimed.

“I wasn’t there,” Ben replied flatly, sarcasm dripping.

His voice was already starting to grate on Five. Maybe Ben had a point—maybe he had been an idiot not to account for this bonehead showing up and becoming just another source of stress.

Although, a quick scan around the much too packed foyer, there was a face missing. Viktor was absent.

“Didn’t miss out on much,” Allison muttered, her hands falling gently to rest on Claire’s shoulders now.

“And that’s not entirely true,” Klaus added. “Not you you—but other you. Definitely there in spirit. Although I was pretty drunk, so you were more of a nagging feeling than an actual presence.”

This conversation was going nowhere.

“Right…” Five mumbled, pushing past the group clogging up the foyer. He lifted the carrier bag, “Using your fridge before the cheese sweats.”

They’d discussed it on the way over—neither of them were to be alone with Allison. But right now, Lila was surrounded by the others, and with the unexpected presence of Claire, it seemed safe enough to duck out for a moment.

Lila was free to follow—but she didn’t. And Five was fully aware of how things looked between them already. No need to stir anything further. Apparently, she felt the same.

Down in the basement kitchen, Five found Viktor stirring a pot, checking on the oven with a furrow in his brow.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” Five said, offering a half-smile as Viktor turned to face him.

He looked stressed.

Why had anyone thought this birthday get-together was a good idea? It was just creating more tension than it was worth.

“Let me guess,” Five added, leaning on the kitchen counter. “You’re thinking of leaving again?”

Viktor snorted softly, a mirthless laugh.

“Even more so now that this doesn’t seem to be a temporary fly-by visit, yeah.”

“I saw the bags,” Five said with a nod of agreement.

“I overheard her telling Luther when she came in that Ray had left,” Viktor murmured, eyes flicking down to the pot as he stirred it again. “But she hasn’t given any more details. Just that she’s moving back.” There was a beat before he continued. “Maybe people can’t have their cake and eat it too.”

“Karma’s a bitch.” Five sighed as he walked around and started to empty the cheese and crackers onto the side before opening the fridge next to it to see where it could go. “I’d offer to help, but I’m not sure there’ll be anyone left to cook for if I stay down here.”

That got a faint chuckle from Viktor as he shook his head.

He’d just finished loading up the cheese board, fridge door closing with a soft thunk, when a voice behind him stalled his steps towards the stairs.

“So… did you do it?”

The question made him pause, a faint frown tugging at his brow as he glanced over his shoulder. “Do what?”

Viktor was still by the counter, arms folded, head tilted slightly. There was a gentleness in his tone now—something closer to real curiosity. “Carve out that bit of peace for yourself?”

Five rattled his brain, trying to recall their last conversation. The one where he told him, ‘if he wasn’t going to find peace here, go find it somewhere else.’ Viktor turned that statement into a question on him, ‘is that what you are doing Five? Finding it somewhere else?’

At the time he had no clue and said as much. So what was the right answer now? Yes, sounded like a confirmation—of something that wasn’t technically defined between Lila and him. But it could also just mean he was content. And other than the long stress list currently hanging over his head, when he thought about where he was, where he was living, what he was currently doing, he was, in fact okay, maybe even happy.

His shoulders eased slightly. “Something like that.”

Viktor gave a small, satisfied nod as he turned back to the oven. “Sounds like an improvement.”

“Oh?” Five raised a brow, sceptical but curious.

“It’s just that, the last time you said you had no idea what you wanted.” Viktor shot him a sideways look. “Sounds like you’re figuring it out now.”

Five didn’t answer, just gave a small shrug and looked back towards the stairs.

“You staying down here?” Five asked. “Or joining the circus?”

He heard Viktor set the wooden spoon aside and turned back to see him turned the heat down low.

“Guess I can come up for air, I always found down here so stuffy,” he said, falling into step with Five as they climbed the stairs.

---

When they emerged, the foyer was empty. Voices filtered in from the lounge.

The dining table, set up behind the sofas, looked almost as Five remembered from childhood. Same layout but different centrepieces. Watching this place be done up from the husk it was when they first arrived, it puzzled him that everyone who was living here seemed hell-bent on recreating the past. Maybe there was comfort in that. Perverse, but familiar.

Lila was sitting in the corner of one of the sofas, her legs tucked under her as she spoke animatedly with Claire, who stood in front of her, bouncing on her toes.

Off to the side, Allison leaned against the wall, arms crossed but not tightly—more observant than cold. She had a small smile on her face as she watched her daughter talk. She had always said how she wanted Claire to meet her family, it just never happened previously for reasons unknown to Five.

The rest of the sofa next to Lila was free. Diego was chatting with Luther on the other side of the room, standing behind the other sofa where Klaus and Ben sat.

Five turned to signal Viktor toward the empty seat—but his brother had already veered toward the bar, pouring something neat into a glass.

So Five headed toward the sofa instead.

As he sat down beside Lila, he caught the tail end of the conversation.

“—so you have a baby in there?” Claire asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Lila replied cheerfully, one hand resting on her belly. “She’s due just before Christmas.”

She gasped. “Wow! Does that mean if she’s born on Christmas, she gets double the presents?”

Five leaned in slightly, an elbow placed on his thigh as his hand rested under his chin. “I guess so, if that happens. But I hope not,” Lila said with a groan. “As soon as she’s done cooking, I hope she’ll want to come out.”

“Why?”

Ah. The why stage.

“Well,” Lila said, shifting in her seat, “for starters, she’s getting really heavy to carry around. And the extra trips to the bathroom? Getting real old.”

Claire scrunched up her nose, clearly processing this. Watching her, was almost looking back in time—her big, dramatic expressions were pure Allison as a child. No wonder she went into acting. He wondered if Claire would do the same.

Confident, curious, completely unbothered by the adult dynamics in the room. She just walked up and started talking to people like she had known them all along.

The little six year old turned her attention to Five next, with a inquisitive expression.

“Which uncle are you? I don’t remember seeing a photo of you.”

“I’m Five.”

She frowned. “Mom was Three. But what’s your name?”

“Number Five.”

Claire narrowed her eyes like she didn’t quite buy it.

“Okay” she elongated the word. “What was your code name?”

“The Boy.”

Claire tilted her head, now completely unconvinced. “That’s not even a power name. That’s just… regular.”

Five smirked, a little bitter. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Why were you The Boy?”

And there it was again but this time posed a surprisingly good question.

It had taken Five a long time to figure it out—why he was called The Boy when Reginald had raised other boys in the house too. The answer, he’d eventually realised, likely lay in the monocle. That strange object didn’t just give Reginald insight. It gave him truth—glimpses of the future, fragments of the past, maybe even a window into fate itself.

Just like how Luther had been dubbed ‘Spaceboy’ long before he ever set foot on the moon, Five’s title had always felt oddly prophetic.

Maybe that was why Reginald didn’t do more to stop him, even after the warning. He knew Five would get lost.

And maybe that was also why his portrait remained above the fireplace for all those years. Not as some shrine to loss, but as a reminder. A marker. A way to make sure none of them forgot him. Because Reginald must’ve known that one day, he would come back.

A child with a man’s mind.

“Because Reginald thought he was clever,” Five said finally.

Little eyes squinted up at him. “Was he?”

“That’s a complicated question. But the simple answer? I suppose… in his own way.” There was a small shrug as he explained in a flat tone.

“Pfft, only you would call that psychopathic narcissistic alien clever,” Diego moaned, throwing a pointed look in Five’s direction.

“I didn’t say he was a good father,” Five replied. “I said he was clever. All of us have been putty in his hands at some point.”

Diego scoffed again. “Not me.”

Five gave a roll of his head to match his eyes. “Of course not, Diego. Not the guy who ran off to play lone hero. Certainly didn’t pick that up from dear old Reggie. Must’ve just been born with heroic blood pumping through those glorious veins.”

His brother moved like a shot, stepping around the edge of the sofa, his eyes locked on Five’s now smug grin, clearly ready to try and knock it clean off his face.

But before he could get there, an alarm blared from someone’s pocket. Everyone turned.

Luther pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen before lifting it like a badge of authority. “Dinner’s ready,” he announced. “If you two can hold off on the one-upping and the potential fistfight.” He glanced between them. “Go sort out drinks or something. Literally anything that’ll stop you both from acting like children.”

The roast was served across a series of mismatched platters, spread down the length of the dining table like an offering. Steam curled off trays of vegetables and potatoes, the smell warm and heavy in the air. Plates were already laid out in front of each seat as they all filed in to take their places.

Allison had rejoined the group, walking just ahead of Lila—and from the looks of it, she intended to sit beside her.

Five moved to speak, already halfway to asking Lila to switch when a hand landed on his shoulder, the grip was harder than necessary.

“Hey,” Diego said, voice low, “you see her all the time. Let someone else catch up.”

Five’s gaze flicked toward the seats. On Allison’s other side would be Claire. At the head of the table, Luther. Viktor was slipping into a chair to his right, Klaus was next to him. That left the seat across from Lila—and the one beside it.

He shrugged Diego’s hand off and silently moved around to the far side, settling in next to Klaus as Ben took the seat next to him.

People remained standing at first, helping themselves to the spread. Claire beamed and chirped a bright, “Thank you for the food!” in a sing-song voice as she reached for carrots.

Luther melted instantly into a smile, and even Viktor gave her a small, weary grin.

Plates were piled high. Chairs scraped against the wooden floorboards as everyone sat and tucked in.

Everyone, except Ben.

Five watched as the Sparrow’s fork hovered above his plate. Ben’s expression as he stared down the table was of someone with a slow-building frustration of someone trying to keep a lid on a very large pot about to boil over.

“Okay,” he started, tone deceptively casual. “I just figured maybe Sloane was in the kitchen when I arrived or something. But I’ve counted the placemats.”

His eyes moved—first to Lila, then to Claire.

“We’ve got two extras. But my sister? Nowhere. Anyone care to explain that?”

Lila kept her gaze low, buttering her roll as if she didn’t hear him.

Five traced his fingertip along the cool edge of his knife, as he watched Ben’s stare become directed towards Luther, who was wearing the biggest blank expression.

'I heard a rumour… that you all forgot Sloane existed, and I never showed up.' rang around in his head.

This was bad.

They were sitting ducks if Allison chose to rumour them right now. If they were going to avoid that, someone needed to think fast—or they were seconds from a replay of last time. And this time, he and Lila would be caught in it.

Five shot Allison a look—lips pressed into a thin line, eyes flickering with a silent plea, give me a second. Let me figure it out before you go nuclear.

“Why is everyone looking at me like I’ve grown two heads?” Ben snapped. “It’s a simple question. Where’s Sloane? You must’ve found her, right? Allison’s here and she wasn’t in the lift.”

Klaus gave an awkward laugh. “Who’s Sloane?”

A loud thud shook the table—Ben’s fist slamming down hard. Claire let out a small mousey sound as she recoiled back into her seat, putting down her cutlery as Allison's hand went to smooth the child's head.

“I know I call you all idiots, but I didn’t actually think you were this stupid.”

Never mind. There was no time to come up with a clever solution.

“Allison,” Five said quietly, “we never told.”

He could see her jaw tighten, teeth grinding as she worked through her options just as Five was weighing likely the same ones in his head.

She could rumour them all again—this time including them and Ben. At first, Five had thought she should’ve just owned it. Let everyone feel what they were going to feel. But the reality was, Sloane was gone. There was no bringing her back. Maybe it had been the kindest thing to make Luther forget—and by extension, make sure no one else remembered either.

But then Allison did something that made Five’s skin crawl, she leaned in and whispered into Lila’s ear.

Lila’s eyes didn’t shift—not glassy, not clouded over—but she stood, slowly, with effort, and waited. Allison turned to Claire next, speaking softly. Claire was already glancing nervously at Ben, and it didn’t take much convincing to jump down from her chair.

“C’mon sweetheart,” Lila said, her voice feigning a jolly tone. “Mum says you forgot to wash your hands before we started to eat.”

Claire already knew they were going, Lila saying it out loud, that was for him.

At least Lila was out. Worst-case scenario, he’d forget about Sloane, and forget Allison had her powers back. The first one of those didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. The other? Lila could fill him in later as long as she didn’t get cornered beforehand.

As soon as the footsteps faded Allison got up and moved away from the table, out of anyone's arms reach before she began.

“I heard a rumour…”

Five watched their eyes cloud over one by one, milky and vacant.

“…that Sloane never existed. And no one knew I still had my power.”

Silence followed whilst the rumour took hold.

He wasn’t included.

Five glanced at the empty wine glass in front of him. Pouring one out now would feel appropriate, but instead, he reached for the water jug and filled a fresh glass, waiting.

Eventually, the room began to stir again. Blinks. Shifts in posture. No one remembered.

“So, Ben,” he said casually, lifting the glass to his lips to clear his dry throat, his mouth feeling like sandpaper. “What’ve you been up to? What made you feel like gracing us with your presence?”

“Huh?” Ben blinked slowly, dazed. The question took a moment to register. “Oh—right. Well, it’s our birthday. I hadn’t seen any of you in a few months. Figured if you’d all managed to survive the normal world, there was a good chance you’d meet up today, and this was my first guess.” He shrugged. “Turns out, you lot are as predictable as I expected.”

Audible groans came from the table, and Five heard footsteps behind him followed by a light giggle. Claire came bundling back in, now grinning as she rushed over to sit beside Allison. Her mother looked surprised, then relieved—Claire appeared much happier than when she’d left. Lila waddled back to her seat.

“What’s given you a case of the giggles?” Klaus asked, clearly finding her smile infectious.

She beamed, pointing to her chin. “Lila made me a bubble beard!”

Five watched as Allison turned to Lila and mouthed a subtle ‘thank you’, but the look Lila shot back was cold. She sat down, and then Five felt a bump to his foot under the table. Worried eyes caught his.

He nudged hers back, a twitch of his mouth trying to tell her, ‘I’m fine. I’m still here.’

Lila seemed to take a breath, shoulders loosening as she relaxed a little into her seat.

“Hey, all okay?”

Diego’s voice clearly took her by surprise. She turned, pulling her gaze from Five.

“Huh? Yeah. Just a twinge.” She shrugged it off, grabbing her knife and fork again.

Five looked up and down the table before returning to his plate.

Conversation flowed as easily as it could. Ben launched into a smug explanation of how he’d found an easy way to make money—something called cryptocurrency, which no one seemed particularly familiar with. He rolled his eyes and told them all to catch up with the year 2019. Thankfully, the more he drank, the more tolerable he became.

The only problem was how pushy he got with the wine. Once Ben hit merry family mode, he made sure anyone within reach was topped up. He ignored Five’s quiet “no thanks” and filled his glass anyway, more than copiously.

“Since when do you turn down drinks?” Ben smirked.

Five ignored him, tuning instead into Luther, who was explaining what he still had left to do around the house—how he felt pretty good about the progress so far.

When Ben asked why he was fixing it up, Luther faltered. It was like the light went out behind his eyes.

He shrugged, muttering something about “somewhere for my family to be,” then turned and gave Allison a sweet smile.

Five tried to hide the frown that formed. Luther was doing this place up—for his family but not the one around this table per se and if he knew the truth, Allison certainly wouldn’t have been part of that.

That emptiness behind his eyes—Allison could remove the person, but not the feeling. His heart still knew something was missing. And yet, silently, he just extended an invitation to the one who caused it.

Viktor receded further into his chair, his eyes distant.

Klaus asked what his “tiny dancer” had been up to, and Five gave the briefest answer—he told them about the university degree he was doing. Said it was an online course from the get-go—a small pre-emptive measure to avoid anyone asking if he was moving away or, more problematically, why he wasn’t.

Lila, a little sheepishly, admitted she was working toward her GED.

Said she had a mock exam in the next few days, and if it went well, she’d book all the real ones on the same day—“bash them out,” as she put it—before the baby arrived.

Conversations broke off into smaller pockets.

And once again, Five’s eyes drifted back to Lila.

He watched Diego lean in and ask her questions. Taking an interest, he supposed. But if Diego really cared, he could pick up a phone. Show that interest before she showed up on his doorstep.

He caught snippets of their conversation. Watching as Diego knocked back the wine far more freely than just a pairing with the meat—his questions hovered around pregnancy, nothing Five didn’t already know. But he really started listening again when Diego asked:

“So… have you thought about any baby names yet?”

Klaus had hit the giggly alcohol stage, cackling too loud in his ear. Five wasn’t interested in his brother’s rambling—not now. He wanted to hear the quiet exchange on the other side of the table. Everyone was drinking. Everyone was getting louder. It grated on his nerves.

His eyes dropped to the untouched wine glass in front of him.

Then Diego’s voice cut through again.

“What about Grace?” he offered softly.

“Grace as in your robot mum?” Lila asked, her tone sceptical at best.

“Yeah.” Diego smiled—wide, stupid. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe he genuinely thought it was a good idea.

Five should have bit his tongue. It wasn’t his place.

But the word slipped out before he could stop it. “Why?”

“To honour our mother,” Diego said simply.

Five stared into the deep red in his glass. “I hate repeating myself. Why?”

“Because she raised us.” He said it like it was obvious. As if Grace had something to do with Lila. As if this wasn’t just a selfish name suggestion from a man who’d previously said that he wanted nothing to do with the baby.

“No,” Five said sharply, “she just raised the one who needed the most hand holding.”

He felt Klaus shift beside him, suddenly personal space becoming a thing again as the table suddenly felt too quiet.

“What did you just say?” Diego’s voice had lost all softness. A vein popped at the side of his temple, right near where his scar used to be.

“Did I stutter?”

Diego looked like he was about to say something—or throw something—when Lila broke in, pulling his attention back.

“Hey. Look. We need a chat. Maybe now would be a good time.”

Five saw it—the look she shot him.

He’d overstepped. He knew it.

Fuck it.

Drink it was. He was screwing this up anyway. He could wait—wait for them to disappear off and then down it.

He heard the chairs scrape back but didn’t look up. Eyes fixed on the glass.

Just as the footsteps faded.

Just as he placed his knife and fork neatly at the bottom of his plate.

Just as he reached for the glass—

Klaus took it.

“Mine’s empty. As are the bottles. Do you mind?”

Drunk as he was, Klaus gave him a look. The kind of look only someone else who’d tried the whole sobriety thing would understand.

Five gave a small nod before casting his eyes over the table.

The cheeses hadn’t been brought out with the rest of it. That was an excuse, at least. He could go downstairs, grab more wine for the others… the cheese… take a breath.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, avoiding the eyes that were likely still fixed on him after the earlier exchange.

He had only just started his descent when a voice called out behind him. “Let me give you a hand!”

He didn’t need to turn to see the grin in Klaus’s voice. “I don’t need it, Klaus.”

“You’re grabbing wine for the table, right? Just making sure the bottle comes up intact.”

“Aren’t you the type to be encouraging like Ben? Not trying to prevent me?”

“Why would I do that? You clearly have your reasons. Besides, you either get more fun drunk—or more of an asshole. And one of those things is happening already. I’m not seeing you crack out the jukebox, so that only leaves the other.”

A low grumble slipped past his lips. He couldn’t argue. Klaus wasn’t wrong.

“Wanna talk about it?” Klaus asked, hopping up to sit on the table while Five rummaged in the pantry for bottles of wine.

“About what?” He pulled out a port for the blue cheese and a cabernet sauvignon for the harder cheeses.

Klaus let out a dramatic whine. “C’mon, whatever this is!”

“It’s nothing.” The word came out too sharp, punctuated by the pantry door slamming a little harder than he meant.

“Right, so why do you care what Lila names her kid?”

Of course he wasn’t going to let it go.

Five set the bottles down with a quiet clunk, levelling a steady look at him. “I don’t. I just don’t think it should be someone she never even met. It means nothing to her.”

“Do names really need to mean anything? A name can just be pretty.”

Five turned away, went to the fridge, pulled out the cheeses from earlier.

“You’re asking the one person in this house who technically doesn’t even have one.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow. “So you either have a strong, stubborn opinion about them… or none at all. Which is it?”

He had that rare, lucid way of speaking when drunk—sharp underneath the slur. Decades of numbing himself hadn’t dulled his ability to see things that others missed.

“I think it’s her choice. No one else gets to weigh in. She’s carrying her. Growing her. Has to birth her.”

“And what, you’re doing nothing during this?”

Five furrowed his brow.

“You’re feeding them, putting a roof over their heads, looking after both of them.”

“That doesn’t mean I get a say in the name.”

“Didn’t say it did. But you’re not exactly an absent party either. You might find you get more of an opinion than you think.”

“Here.” Five handed him the wine bottles and picked up the wooden board now stacked with cheese. “Make yourself useful. Other than poking around in things that aren’t there.”

“Okay, okay. Just tell me one last thing.” Klaus balanced the bottle necks between his fingers as he turned toward the fruit bowl on the table. He plucked a bunch of green grapes with his free hand, the motion casual.

“One. Last. Thing,” he repeated sternly.

“Did you get me a birthday present?”

Five didn’t even take a second before bluntly replying. “No.”

Klaus pouted, raising a hand to his heart theatrically. “Rude. Okay, but did you get Lila one?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “If you must know. But it was a necessity. I found her parents and-”

Klaus cut him off before he could finish. “Wow. That’s… actually a lovely present. Look at you being thoughtful.”

“It doesn’t undo the past, but—” He trailed off with a shrug. “Anyway, that wasn’t the gift.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You just tracked down her family on a whim?”

“Yes.” The word was quiet this time.

“So what was the present?”

“Something came up and they couldn’t afford to fly out anymore in the new year. I bought their plane tickets.”

“No wonder you didn’t get us anything! That’s serious cash.” Klaus whistled as Five gave another small shrug.

“So… what’d she get you?”

“Why do you assume she did?”

His brother just gave him a look. A Klaus look.

Five sighed, placed the cheese board on the table, and rolled up his sleeve. He undid the cuff of his shirt to reveal the band on his wrist.

“Two thoughtful gifts, huh? One to mend a heart. One to win it over.”

“Which is which?”

“You tell me.”

“This conversation is over, Klaus.”

“Awww,” he whined. “But I feel like you were just starting to open up!”

Five ignored him, redoing the cuff, rolling the sleeve back down before picking up the board again. “Come on, or people will think we got lost.”

When they returned, the used plates and leftovers had been shuffled to the far end of the table, making room for the cheese board, crackers, and wine.

Diego and Lila’s seats were still empty—unsurprisingly. It wasn’t going to be a quick chat, depending on how deep they went. The birth certificate alone was a minefield. Maybe they'd even end up talking about the birth itself. Or maybe Diego was just rattling off alternate names.

“Wonder what those two are talking about,” Ben said, swirling his drink. “Because I don’t hear any yelling. Maybe their mouths are... preoccupied.”

Five’s eye twitched.

“Nah,” Luther cut in. “They’ve barely spoken since they got back. And to be fair to Diego, she did lie to him. Said she wasn’t pregnant anymore. He didn’t find out until Five assumed he was being the asshole and let it slip. Or… is it letting it slip if you believed someone already knew?” He ended in a more pondering tone as Five kept his eyes down.

He opened a box of crackers and uncorked a bottle of wine, pouring a generous amount into Ben’s glass. Maybe if he got him drunk enough, he’d shut up and pass out on the couch.

“Man, it’s always drama around here,” Ben muttered, lifting his glass in a mock toast to Five before taking a sip.

Five sat down again, resting his hand in his lap. His thumb slipped under his sleeve, down to his wrist, brushing the smooth leather bracelet. Further in, his thumb found the braid—every notch, every bump—a contrast to the smooth band he usually grounded himself with.

It wasn’t long before Claire pushed her plate away with a dramatic sigh.

“I don’t want any stinky cheese. Can I get my toys? Will someone play with me?”

To his surprise, Klaus lit up.

“I’ll play!” he offered, already getting to his feet.

Damn it. Five had been hoping Klaus would stick around, maybe steer the conversation if things got pointed. If he said something in Lila’s defence, it’d only raise more suspicion.

“C’mon, Uncle Five!” Claire tugged at his jumper. “I’ve got a little boy you can play with! We can play house!”

“Yeah!” Klaus chimed in, grinning, waving him over like he was hosting a game show.

Screw it. Anything was better than sitting at that table—even playing house.

Claire darted off and returned dragging a small pink suitcase, setting up camp near the sofas. Five and Klaus sat beside each other, peering down as she opened it up.

Behind them, Viktor started clanging dishes together, stacking them for cleaning. Allison stood, offering to help.

“I’ve got it,” Viktor protested.

She ignored him, scooping up several dishes and following him anyway. Classic.

Five wondered if they’d talk in the kitchen. Doubtful anything would be resolved. He grimaced. Could she just rumour Viktor to forget? To not even know who Harlan was? Always looking for the easy way out of things.

A small doll was suddenly shoved into his hands. Claire had distributed roles—mommy and daddy to Klaus, a baby girl for herself, and a boy doll for him.

“You’re my brother!” she announced, pointing at the one he held.

“And what am I meant to do with this?” he asked, inspecting it, rolling in his hand.

Would their place end up cluttered with toys like this someday? Years from now? Or would she be gone by then, moved out... or—

“Hey, Five,” Diego’s voice cut in. He walked in with Lila trailing behind. Five’s attention shifted immediately.

Her sleeves were tugged over her hands, fingers twisting the fabric. She was bracing herself for whatever was about to be said, apparently.

“Yeah?” Five replied warily, eyes narrowing as Diego approached.

“So…” Diego hesitated, his tone more polite than it had been all day. “When she goes into labour, I’ll probably be here. Just... swing by and get me, yeah?”

Five blinked. “What?”

“On the way to the hospital. Or drop her off and come back for me. Whatever’s easiest.”

“Did Father drop you on your head as a baby?”

Diego’s face twisted, back to the same pissed-off expression he’d been wearing since they’d arrived. Good. Enough with the fake civility.

Klaus was still playing with the dolls, walking them along the coffee table. His voice was playful enough for Claire to assume it was part of the game.

“Oh please, for him to drop one of us, he would’ve had to touch us. Shown affection. So... no?”

Five placed the doll back on the table. Claire was picking up on the tension. Time to move away.

He got up, walking past Diego.

“My only priority on that day is Lila,” he said firmly. “You can fly to the hospital for all I care.”

Diego scoffed. “Nice. Real mature.”

Five turned, jaw clenched. “It’s not about you, Diego.”

“She’s my kid too!” The taller man snapped, stepping closer. “You think you know what this is like? You think this is easy?”

“I don’t care even if it was easy,” Five bit back. “I care that she’s safe. And if you need someone to hold your hand and remind you to get in a car, maybe you’re not the one who should be a father.”

Diego’s hand twitched at his side. “Say that again.”

The room tensed—Klaus froze mid-pose with a doll still in hand, Claire watching with wide eyes.

He didn’t flinch. “I said maybe you’re not cut out for it.”

Diego stepped in, his chest brushing his. “Careful.”

Nostrils flared as Five wasn’t backing down. “Or what?”

Then a voice cut through the tension.

“Five. Your turn for a word.”

Lila.

Her tone wasn’t loud.

It didn’t have to be.

Chapter Text

Pulling away from the glaring contest, Five looked at her—and somehow, he felt like a child being told off. Her eyes were cool, measured, almost disappointed.

He scoffed under his breath and turned, jaw tight. Why did he feel like he was the one out of line?

Diego was a grown man. A grown-ass man who should be able to get himself to a hospital without needing a chaperone like it was a damn school field trip.

Still, Five followed her out, glancing down at Lila’s hand—poking out of her sleeve, bundled in a fist—as she led the way upstairs toward the bedrooms.

His own hand felt oddly empty.

How long had it been since she led him somewhere and didn’t take his?

In the hallway, Lila turned, glancing between the doors like she wasn’t sure which one to go for.

“Here.” Five brushed past her and opened a door.

His room or what used to be, had bare walls, stale air and completely untouched. Still on Luther’s to-do list, probably. Or maybe he just didn’t know what to do with it.

“He’s being a pillock,” Lila muttered behind him, closing the door.

“Sure...” Five’s voice was cold, detached. He walked along the wall, finger trailing the wallpaper where the border should’ve been. His eyes scanned the barren space before he turned to face her, keeping a deliberate distance. Her back was to the door, leaning. “But he’s not wrong.”

“Five—”

“It’s your baby,” he cut in. He didn’t mean it to sound so flat, but he couldn’t help it. Not ours. Not mine.

“So if I’m just meant to drive you to the hospital and vanish afterward, fine. But you ask me. You. Not him barking orders like I’m some kind of Uber.”

“I didn’t agree to anything beyond Diego having a right to be there,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d dispute that.”

“I’m not,” he stated.

“So why are you still pissed off? It was his words, not mine.”

Five sighed sharply, raising a hand to his face. Thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of his nose before dragging down across his eyes. A useless attempt to massage the tension away.

And that was just it.

That tension today hadn’t come out of nowhere. It had been building up all week, low and constant, gnawing at the edges—something he couldn’t place until now. He didn’t know what her choices were.

Whether she wanted anything from Diego.

And what about him? Did she see any place for him in her—their—life at all?

At times, it felt like everything flip-flopped. Hints of ‘we’, casual domesticity, the way they were around the house but then, just a month or so ago, she’d reminded him—'enjoy this while it lasts.’

Enough was enough.

“Then use your words, Lila.” His voice was quieter now, low and charged. “What do you want?”

She shifted, arms folded, biting the corner of her lip.

“You to be there too,” she admitted quietly. “If you want.”

If. That one word made something snap inside him.

He stepped toward her—slow, certain, like gravity had chosen a direction for him.

“If I want?” he echoed, disbelief coiling that she would even have to ask by this point.

He closed the space between them, eyes locked on hers. His hand flexed at his side before rising to cup her face. He leaned in, resting his forehead to hers—the barest breath between them.

Then he kissed her.

Fierce. Possessive.

That was the truth of it—he wanted this. Needed this. His mouth on hers, on her ear, jaw—anywhere he could get access to. Desperate, but controlled. Each peck lingering just long enough on parts of her skin before he moved off, capturing her again—teeth scraping, tongues dancing, his weight pinning her to the door.

When he pulled back, her lips were flushed, breath short and uneven. Her eyes—wide, dark—stared at him with a hunger she didn’t voice but couldn’t possibly hide. Her bump touching, moving against him with every breath.

He rested his forehead against hers again, his breathing just as ragged.

He didn’t want to stop.

He felt feverish—dizzy with it.

“What are you doing?” she whispered. “Borrowing from tomorrow’s allowance?”

Deflection. Always deflection.

“’Cause it’s not like we’re gonna fuck in here.”

Her words came sharp, teasing—testing him. He wanted to say they didn’t have to, that he was throwing that rule out with the rest of them.

But instead, Five glanced over his shoulder at the empty room. No bed. No furniture. Just floorboards and dust.

His hand left her face but didn’t break contact—fingers trailing along her jaw until his thumb could ghost over her lips. Then he took her hand leading, crossing the room to a corner.

“What are you trying to do?” she asked, half-breathless, half-amused.

He backed her into the corner, slow but sure. One arm braced beside her head, the other tugged at the collar of her white turtleneck, exposing more of her neck. His mouth hovered at her jaw—nudging, then pressing, seeking access.

She didn’t resist, rolling her head out of the way.

After several slow, reverent kisses, he finally murmured, “Wanted to give you something to balance against.”

“You know, if you leave a mark on my neck, I’m pretty sure he’s going to leave a mark on your face.”

“He can try.”

Five’s teeth grazed her skin before he licked, then bit—just enough to pull a gasp from her lips.

“Besides, that’s your issue? Not rule three or four?”

“Which-h were?” she breathed, voice cracking on the exhale.

“Baby brain already?” He smiled against her throat. “No one else knows. If they ask—deny.”

“Then don’t leave a mark.”

“Thought that’s what the turtleneck was for.” He kissed beneath her ear, then pulled the fabric lower, exposing the space where her neck met her shoulder. Even a normal shirt would cover this. No risk.

He’d acted like a child enough today. He wanted to say Diego started it—but he knew better. Most of the sniping had been him. He should’ve been the bigger man. The older man, with more restraint. But instead, he felt like he had when he first got here—like a hormonal teenager. Irritable. Frustrated. Jealous.

Last time, it was because his siblings didn’t seem to care the world was ending. They didn’t carry that weight like he did.

Today, he was jealous again—but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t about wanting to feel unburdened. It was a pang. A hollow, selfish ache in his chest.

Lila’s hand rose to her mouth, a finger caught between her teeth as she bit down to stifle a moan.

He pulled back, watching the blood bloom just beneath her skin.

Did he really need to be jealous?

Another kiss—to her hand at her mouth.

She was here. With him.

He was the one making her moan like that.

A smirk tugged at his lips as she kept grazing her finger with her teeth, on the edge of letting go. Before she could, he gave her a reason not to.

His hand slipped beneath her top, finding the curve of her breast—fuller now, heavier, ridiculously sensitive. He cupped it, thumb flicking over the hidden peak beneath her bra. Even without squeezing, without his tongue, it pulled a whimper from her.

His thigh slid between her legs, her hips giving a slow, instinctive grind against him.

If the marks didn’t get them caught… someone walking in could.

Fuck it.

“Hands on the wall.”

Lila had always been the one in control. Always giving the lesson. Always deciding what they did.

He watched her release her finger from her mouth and splay both hands against the wall without question.

His went to her waistband—no buttons, no zip, just stretchy, comfy fabric moulded to the curve of her bump. He tugged it down, crouching with the motion to ease it past her knees. As he rose, his palms ran up the inside of her thighs, watching as they twitched—parting for him.

He shifted his hands forward, fingers hooking gently at the top of her underwear.

"Five..."

He paused, tilting just enough to catch her eyes, letting her know he was listening.

"I haven’t... attended the nest in a while." A half-smirk formed—offering him an out, if he wanted it.

His brow lifted. “Do you want me to stop?” He leaned in, brushing a kiss against her hip, gaze flicking up to meet hers. “Because I don’t care if you haven’t.”

She gave a small shake of her head.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers tugged again, easing the fabric down to join the rest around her ankles, and then he sank to his knees.

He turned his head, brushing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, slowly trailing upward. His fingers were already there, sliding gently along her folds, smoothing through the curls. He felt her shifting, trying to part for him, even before he was fully there—but the bundle of trousers and underwear at her ankles hindered her movement.

The last thing he needed was for her to lose her balance.

His hand trailed down—not to help her, but to ease himself first. There was no way he could pleasure her and ignore the ache in his own body, not like this. He wasn't going to get off in this position, but he could at least be more comfortable.

He undid his jeans. A hand slipped past his waistband, adjusting his trapped erection, shifting it up the leg of his trousers to a less confined, more forgiving position. Then he focused on her, pushing the bundle of clothing up just enough to reach the lace of her boot. He tugged at it, loosening the knot.

Kissing her right thigh to give instruction, he felt the weight shift onto it, and her foot slipped free of the boot easily. As soon as it did, the trousers and underwear came away too.

He caught her leg before it touched the floor, lifting it and hooking it into the crook of his elbow, his hand pressing against the wall for support. His shoulder would’ve been too high—for now, this gave her a place to lean, and gave him everything he needed.

But it meant something else too.

They were seriously screwed if anyone walked in.

Before, there’d been a chance—a slim one—that he could’ve yanked her trousers up in time.

Now, there was no hiding what they were doing.

A single finger slid into her with ease, curling up to stroke just the right place. Her whimper made his chest thrum. The finger withdrew, only to return with an additional one, both pressing in with practiced care now, repeating the same perfect rhythm.

Another whine.

Five shifted again, kissing the soft curve beneath her bump before his lips grazed the curly hair at her centre.

“You’re going to have to be quieter than that.”

His breath alone made her shiver. Then came the tremble as his tongue slipped between the folds, searching for her clit.

The next sound was muffled—if he had to guess, she was biting her lip.

She hadn’t reacted quite this intensely before.

But they’d never done it with her standing. Five had never taken control of where, or how.

Maybe that’s what was heightening everything. The unfamiliar angle. The risk. The feeling of being pinned upright while coming undone.

Now it was him using her body to muffle his moans, because all Five could do was picture that feeling, that pressure all down and around his cock.

It didn’t take long.

He felt the change before he heard it, the sudden clench around his fingers, the rhythmic tightening that pulsed through her. Her thigh quivering over his arm, nails scraping the wallpaper, breath hitching—then breaking.

She was coming.

His face stayed buried into the soft warmth of her body as he worked her through it, letting her ride the waves in full. His fingers slowed, curling gently, coaxing the pleasure to linger, to stretch. He eased his tongue back just enough to catch every movement, to chase each last shudder, feeling how her muscles fluttered through the last tremors.

But the sound that followed didn’t match the ones before.

It was a moan… but it wasn’t pleasure.

He lowered her leg instantly, shifting to the side to look up at her.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded quickly, but he didn’t miss the way her eyebrows had knit together. “Help me with my clothes?”

He shifted, using his clean hand to tug her pants and trousers back up to her thighs, letting her finish the rest. Then he retrieved her boot, helping to slip it back on.

When he stood, his eyes flicked over her, reading.

“I’m fine,” she said, but there was tension in her voice. “I just need to sit. It was… intense… and I think that it brought on some Braxton Hicks or something.”

He offered his hand. She took it, letting him guide her gently down onto the floor, his other hand resting on her back for support.

But just as she settled, her eyes darted downward—to the visible bulge in his boxers.

A smirk broke across her lips.

“Sorry about that… so what are we going to do about it?”

He shook his head, quick and dismissive. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hardly fair.”

“I could go to the bathroom if I was really desperate.”

“Or…” she started.

“Or what?”

“You could wait until the cramps pass.”

“Or we get you down onto the sofa instead of the hard floor.”

“Or,” she said, her gaze flicking to his still-wet fingers, “if you’re just gonna run off to the bathroom, you could make use of that.” She licked her lips, “Right here.”

Five didn’t know what to say but the involuntary twitch spoke his answer for him.

“Come on,” she added, eyes fluttering closed as once more, a small wince passed over her features. “Give me a distraction.”

He almost thought she was hamming it up—until he saw her hand pass over her bump, rubbing low and across herself. His hand joined hers, feeling along it. It was rock hard. Normally it was firm, but not like this.

“But—” Any worry in his tone was immediately shut down.

“Look, the way you have acted today was like when I first met you.”

He braced for the follow-up, cocky, self-absorbed, insufferable little shit—but it didn’t come. She didn’t need to say it. He already felt like crap.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’m just… stressed.”

“You can’t tell me this is the same kind of stress as the world ending.”

“Not exactly. But stress is stress, right?”

“Okay, so alleviate some of it. Maybe it will stop you trying to one-up Diego for the rest of the afternoon.”

He let out a slow breath, dropping his gaze briefly. His hand rested gently on the curve of her stomach, thumb brushing just once before he found her hand and gave it a small squeeze.

Still, her face stayed firm. Waiting. Expecting.

“Fine.”

He grumbled as he shifted, turning his back to the door, settling in front of Lila. He pushed his boxers down, one hand already wrapping around himself.

Shit—when was the last time he even did this?

He hadn’t needed to for so long.

Although the last time probably also had its own spectator—but it wasn’t Lila.

But that didn’t really count did it. Noone was really there.

His fingers moved instinctively, slicking over the head with what she’d left behind on his skin. At least he’d done this before—countless times—just never for this.

A soft groan left him, as his hand moved slowly at first, drawing from memory. From the rawness still fresh on his fingers, the taste still lingering on his tongue. The way her cum had eased over him made it effortless to imagine being inside her. That ache, low and insistent, pulled tight in his gut.

His hips shifted, chasing it.

Left hand delivering deliberate strokes just to the tip—while the right cradled his balls, thumb and forefinger squeezing just right underneath.

His eyes scrunched shut, staying there in the memory. Her leg braced over his arm. Her warmth. The way she’d clenched around his fingers.

He was close.

Then—a touch.

Fingers to his cheek. A thumb tilted his chin just so, and then her tongue—hot and slow—dragged across his neck.

A sharp nip followed, suction pressing right over his pulse.

A gasp caught in his throat.

He swallowed it trying to keep some composure.

But her mouth moved again and a moan threatened to escape, so he moved, pressing his mouth into her palm to muffle it.

His whole body locked.

Grip tightening, hips jerking once—and then—

Release.

A sharp breath hissed out between his teeth as it spilled into his hand—warm, coating his fingers and knuckles.

His body trembled, hunched slightly forward as the pressure unwound and emptied from him. He stayed like that, motionless, chest rising and falling in uneven pulls of breath.

Her hand still rested on his cheek, her head nestled in the crook of his neck.

“How are you feeling?” Five murmured, nuzzling his cheek gently over the top of her head.

“It’s still happening… but calming down,” she replied, voice soft.

“Are you okay to stay here while I clean up?”

A small, amused laugh escaped her.

“You can’t walk out there with that dripping down you.”

“What do you suggest then?”

He barely got the words out before Lila took his hand to her mouth. Her tongue ran over him, slow and purposeful, chasing the trails, sucking at the droplets.

“Fuck, Lila…”

This was supposed to help them get back downstairs faster—not trigger a potential round two.

“There,” she said, licking her lips with a wicked grin. “Now you won’t drip mini-yous everywhere.”

He stared, completely thrown off track for a second.

“Oi. Earth to Five?”

Nothing in him was responding in a coherent way. He hadn’t finished in her mouth before. Ever. She’d always stopped before it got that far—using it to work him up before leading them into sex.

Before he could finish unravelling the thought, she kissed him. And he could taste it. Taste everything. Her. Himself.

It must’ve been the same for her too.

“Lila…”

Another kiss.

“Seriously—”

A peck.

“This isn’t helping us get downstairs,” Five chuckled.

“Fine.” She feigned annoyance, pulling back just enough so their lips wouldn’t crash together again on impulse.

“You going to play nice now?” Her tone was teasing, smile playful—but her eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Feeling less jealous?”

“That obvious?”

Five stood, pulling his underwear and trousers back into place before offering her a hand.

“I don’t think we talk much about our feelings…” she said, letting him help her up. “But body language? Actions? They speak louder than words.”

“Yeah…” he muttered.

She was right. They didn’t talk much—not about what mattered, not about them. They threw silent pleas or blunt pushbacks across the room, but never sat down and unpacked the mess. Not unless it was only about themselves. Never them.

And that was the problem.

“When we get home,” Five said, trying not to take as deep a breath as his nerves demanded, “I want us to talk. About all of it. I want to know what you’ve decided.”

He watched her swallow, then nod—small but certain.

All of it.

It was ambiguous. It could mean everything to do with the birth. What she had agreed with Diego. Or more. It could include them.

He had offered it. She had agreed.

Now it was down to both of them—how much either was willing to ask, with the constant fear of pushing the other away.

‘Enjoy it while it lasts.’ ‘The next time we have a holiday.’

Two extremes. Two sides of the same coin.

Which way was it going to land?

Somehow, the rest of the afternoon was destined to drag—and yet, at the same time, feel like a blink and it was over.

“Ready?” Lila’s voice pulled him out of the spiral.

Blinking a couple of times, he looked over and saw her by the door, hand on the handle, ready to turn it.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Five ducked into the bathroom on the way back down, quickly washing his hands. He didn’t even bother shutting the door—just in and out in seconds.

By the time they reached the lounge, everyone had migrated to the couches. A few had plates of cheese and crackers balanced on the coffee table, and Ben appeared to be either asleep or passed out sitting upright, while Viktor lingered at the other end, still drinking hard. Klaus was still on the floor, cross-legged, playing with the toys. Unsurprisingly, Diego shot a glare Five’s way the moment he walked in.

Five’s hand drifted to his wrist, pretending to adjust the cuff of his jumper—left, then right. Beneath it, he felt the bracelet, the soft lining easing the sharp urge to roll his eyes.

“What took you two so long? Practicing parenting? Did Five need a time-out?” Diego’s words came out slightly slurred as he stood, seemingly not expecting a response, and made his way to the table, casually picking at some grapes and adding to his plate.

“Don’t rise to it,” Lila muttered under her breath as she stepped further into the room, stopping in front of a sofa where Allison and Luther had each claimed a corner.

“Any chance I can have the corner to lean on? That, or I’m gonna use you as a pillow, big guy.”

Luther looked briefly taken aback but obligingly slid toward the middle, allowing Lila to ease herself down. She shifted, adjusting until she looked somewhat comfortable.

“Thanks. Little one’s playing silly buggers in there right now.”

Then she raised her voice—just enough for Diego to hear clearly.

“That’s why we were gone so long. I was in pain and needed to sit down. Didn’t feel like moving.”

Well, that was a half-truth, Five supposed.

He glanced over to Diego, who had paused midway through plating up. With a brisk hand through his hair, Five walked over.

“Look,” he said lowly, grabbing a couple of plates. He kept his voice just between them. “I don’t know what you two agreed to. Labour usually starts slow. Maybe I can swing by and grab you on the way to the hospital. Maybe. But I can’t be your first plan. If Lila needs to go, I’m not adding a ten-minute detour because you can’t be bothered to sort yourself out.”

He heard Diego tsk under his breath, but no remark followed. That was something he supposed. Maybe even counted as listening.

“And I’ll message you. Any updates—small or not—I’ll send them. Should be plenty of time to sort things out. Get wherever you need to go.”

Still no comeback. Diego just finished filling his plate and walked off.

Better than a shitty remark. Silence meant Five didn’t owe one either.

A few more slices of cheddar landed on both plates, followed by a handful of grapes and crackers. Five walked them back and handed one off to Lila, standing off to the side.

“Mom?” Claire got up from the floor and stood in front of Allison. “You said this is a birthday party, but I haven’t seen any games.” She pouted a little as Allison tried to think of how to respond.

“I have a trivia pack of cards, if people want?” Luther offered with a dopey smile.

Claire shouted a big “Yay!”, although Five wasn’t quite convinced she knew the meaning of trivia—but the idea of them all doing something, anything, without awkward conversations or glares from across the room seemed like a sensible way to smooth things over for a bit.

Everyone took turns drawing cards and reading out questions. The fastest person to answer correctly got to keep the card. It went on for several rounds, and everyone made sure that if anything to do with children’s books or shows came up, they gave Claire as much of a chance to answer as possible. Predictably, she was a little bored.

It was Lila’s yawn that finally drew the game to a close. She was starting to drift off, and they still had the walk home yet. Five leaned forward from where he was sitting, placing his cards on the coffee table without counting them, shooting Lila a sidelong nod toward the door with a raised eyebrow. Another yawn, a tired blink, and a nod back.

“Need to take a pi—” She stopped herself, clearly remembering the company. “—a leak before we go.”

Lila rose slowly, stretching and placing a hand on the small of her back, giving it a small rub before making her way out. “Thanks for the food!” she said cheerfully as she waddled away.

“Yeah, for the most part, nice catching up with all of you.” Purposefully, Five didn’t look at Diego, hoping to avoid one last jab or remark.

He crossed the room and crouched to Claire’s level.

“Especially you. Now the oldest is going, the youngest is in charge, yeah?”

She giggled, giving him a look like he was crazy, but amused all the same. He gave her a gentle smile before rising and walking toward the foyer to wait for Lila.

Heel-clicking steps followed swiftly after—Allison had left the room and was now approaching him.

Five’s hands twitched, ready to become fists as Allison quickly noticed his unease.

“Won’t be necessary.” She waved it off like he was overreacting, but Five’s eyes narrowed, waiting.

“What is it, then?”

Allison lowered her voice, asking in a hushed tone. “Why didn’t you tell everyone?”

“I’m sure you can see there’s enough drama going on without adding yours to the mix.”

“When Luther invited me to come today, I was genuinely surprised.”

“Allison, we all do crappy things to survive. I don’t think I have much moral high ground. I understand you had to do what you did that day, but removing memories? You can remove the person, probably from existence if you wanted to but the feeling? You can see it, right? When Luther looks like he’s missing something.”

Her jaw tightened, and Five continued.

“Just answer me one thing. Did you do it to Viktor, too—earlier?”

“No. I’ll let him hate me as much as he needs to.”

“Good. Maybe there’s hope for you yet—to not rumour your way out of every situation.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Five saw Lila emerging, just starting her way down the stairs. She paused for a moment, clearly assessing whether she needed to sneak in or intervene.

“So, why didn’t you include us in the rumour earlier?”

“I figured if you weren’t talking about it when I wasn’t around, you weren’t going to when I was.” Her expression cooled. “At the end of the day, whenever Reginald made me do something like this in the past, at least he knew. But it’s not like I ever talked to him about how it made me feel. I get it—we’re not a touchy-feely family, arguably all emotionally stunted—but at least this time, I’m not the only one carrying it. If the rumour ever breaks, I won’t be the only one people hate.”

“Is that a threat?”

Lila had managed to appear beside Allison without her noticing, her voice startling her slightly.

They both watched as Allison shrugged, lifting her brows like it wasn’t worth clarifying, then turned on her heel and walked back toward the others.

Five let out a slow breath.

“You okay leaving everyone here with her?” Lila asked quietly.

“There’s not really another choice,” he said, glancing back toward the room one last time.

Then Five opened the door, and together, they stepped out into the dark.

The door clicked shut behind them, and it wasn’t until they turned that first corner—out of sight—that Lila reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his with a quiet squeeze. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, and they walked the rest of the way home in step, in silence, letting the day’s events wash over them—both knowing the quiet wouldn’t last. Going home meant a conversation.

One that had been avoided for far too long.