Chapter Text
3.5 years later
Five peers at the spinning circle on his phone. According to the location app he’s more or less glued to, as it shows him where Diego and Klaus are at all times, his parents should be stood outside the illustrious entrance to St John’s and yet, they aren’t. Five sighs as he scans the rolling green hills, looking for hope, but of course he hears Klaus before he sees either of them.
“ - as if they’ve never seen a human being with facial hair and in a dress before - FIVE! ”
Finally not hidden by the ancient architecture, Klaus leaps on him, feather light as he clings tightly to his adopted son and peppers kisses across his head. Five doesn’t fight for once, smiling underneath the brightness of Klaus’s fashion decisions, gigantic yellow coat making him look even tinier than usual and particularly strange next to Diego's sleek, boring black ensemble. Five's missed it, he’ll admit silently, Klaus’s skinny arms and his slightly citrus, floral scent, finally escaping and grinning over at Diego who eyes him with amusement.
Klaus fusses, pulling on his cheeks like an irritating Aunt, as Diego lets out a low whistle.
“Nice crib, kid,” he says, “Cambridge, huh?”
“Yes, Diego, this is indeed Cambridge University,” Five retorts, shoo’ing a mumbling Klaus off him as he marvels over how tall Five is.
“I haven’t changed that much,” Five eye rolls, beginning to walk into the college grounds and expecting them to follow, “it’s been five months.”
“Five months !” Klaus all but yells and Five can hear him slapping his hand against his chest but as he looks over his shoulder, he’s happy to see both men awed into silence as they take in their surroundings. St John’s is one of the more impressive looking colleges, stately and gigantic and if not haunted literally then certainly metaphorically; the inventions, discoveries and intellect brilliance from the 16th century to now soaked into the bricks.
“I feel like I’m in Harry Potter,” Klaus murmurs.
“If Harry Potter was gay as hell,” Diego smirks, tugging at Klaus's ridiculous coat that he's wrapped up in, dress at his heels and an elaborate gold necklace around his neck.
Klaus giggles and takes his hand, letting Five lead them into Chapel Court, ducking through small archways before reaching his room.
“Go on, then,” he says, faking being exasperated, letting them in to critique his decorative choices. Klaus holds up a Bible with disdain.
“It came with the room,” Five explains, “besides, it’s quite an interesting text - ”
“ - you could roll a decent joint with this,” Klaus wonders out loud, flicking through, “quality paper.”
“If you ever do that,” Diego chips in, staring at Five, “we will unadopt you. You never disrespect God.”
Klaus mimes smoking behind his husband, dropping the act when Diego snatches the book away from him, muttering something in Spanish.
“Yes, I’m quite obviously spending my time here smoking weed in my bedroom,” Five deadpans, “so… pub?”
“Ooh, pub?” Klaus laughs, dissolving into a terrible accent, “bloody buggering hell! Get the man a pint!”
“Cambridge pubs are full of cultural significance,” Five sniffs, “scientists discovered DNA in a pub just down the road.”
“I’ve discovered a lot of DNA in drinking establishments, darling, what makes them so special?” Klaus guffaws, propped up on his elbows on Five’s bed, laughing at his own joke as both his husband and son cry out in outrage.
“Disgusting!”
“Truly disgusting, even for you.”
Klaus grins, shrugging as Diego glares at him.
“Before you! Before you, love of my life.”
As they walk out into the crisp January afternoon, chattering updates about Diego’s promotion and Klaus’s new commissioned project, Five leads the way, smiling as he listens. Klaus can’t stop himself, forever reaching to ruffle Five’s hair a little or squeeze his shoulder and Five doesn’t mind, even if in usual times he’d push him off. They get to The Eagle just before it’ll become slightly too busy to find a seat, Five and Diego encouraging Klaus to sit put and wait as they order.
“I’m having a beer,” Diego says defiantly, “Klaus isn’t so delicate he’ll take a whiff and be on the next street corner looking for crack, you know.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” Five smiles, “no need to be so defensive, Dad, jeez.”
They both freeze as the word hangs in the air, interrupted as the barmaid asks for their order.
“Uh, I guess… my son can order for me,” Diego tries, not as uncomfortable as he thought he would be. Five blinks down at his knuckles holding tightly to the slightly sticky bar, fight or flight. He swallows the lump in his throat.
“Sure."
**
Halfway through their drinks, fire warming their ankles, he’s doing his best to answer their questions and bat away the annoying ones.
“Come on, you can tell us,” Klaus pleads, sucking on the straw to his lemonade, “you are getting laid here, right?”
“Ew,” Five replies, unwilling to budge. Diego has his arm around Klaus’s birdlike shoulders, happy to let the teasing continue. Besides, Five isn’t actually disgusted by the line of questioning, enjoying baiting Klaus into giddiness.
“There has to be someone! You’re so handsome!”
“And yet, such a dick,” Diego adds, earning him a sharp elbow to the ribs.
“He’s our baby,” Klaus admonishes him, Five smirking as Diego winces.
“Well…,” Five trails off, keeping the suspense high, because actually, she’s just walked in, “she’s a musician.”
Klaus clasps his hands together dramatically before freezing, features crumpling.
“Oh,” he says, small and sad, “you’re - you’re - straight?” he whispers, disappointed.
“I didn’t say that, did I?” Five claps back, downing the last of his drink, “I’ll get us some more. And some crisps.”
He leaves them to joke about his new dialect before ordering another round, managing to surreptitiously catch Vanya’s eye. He smiles a little, pleased when she returns it, a little shy as she goes back to her orchestra friends. The last thing he needs is Klaus catching wind of it so he doesn’t let his eyes linger too long, squeezing his way through the pub-goers with their new drinks in hand. He shouldn’t have worried about their attention being on him because as always with Diego and Klaus, once alone, they’re too concerned with one another, Diego holding Klaus’s jaw as they kiss and clinging to each other like they'll drown if they don't.
“Do you two ever stop?” Five asks, handing out the drinks, “anyone would think you’re the teenagers.”
“Oh,” Klaus winces, “is it still the 16th century here? Maybe we should get me a wig and cut off the beard.”
“Jesus, it’s not that,” Five says, “do you not realise everyone is staring at you both? Two conventionally good looking men in their mid-30s, making out - quite obscenely I may add - in the middle of a pub?”
They stare at him dumbly.
“They fancy you,” he adds, employing his impeccable British accent. It’s true; as The Eagle gets crammed with students and tourists alike, all eyes are on his adopted Dads. Five is quite capable of looking at a situation from the outside-in, regardless of feelings or norms; he can see how good they look together.
“You think we’re good looking?” Klaus asks, open mouthed, “that’s so sweet, darling.”
They indulge him in a walk around the city, listening as he reels off stories, histories. It’s fascinating to Five, and he thinks his fathers get into it after a while too, even if it takes Klaus pretending to be Hermione Granger to appreciate the cultural significant of the paths they walk down. Five always knew he wanted to study somewhere prestigious and thanks to the hefty inheritance from his biological parents, money was never going to be a problem. He finally got access to some of it once he turned 18; the rest to come at 21. Diego refused to accept any at first, until Klaus eventually persuaded him to ditch the toxic masculinity for just a second, and they moved into a bigger home as well as paid for Five’s tuition.
“You’re happy here?” Klaus asks. He didn’t realise he had slowed down as they walked across yet another bridge, slow and mindful of the ice. He nods, allowing him one small smile and yet another hair ruffle.
“We miss you,” Diego admits, “but we’re proud of you too, kiddo.”
“Thanks,” Five says softly, before perking up, “but I think it was my 5.0 GPA and wealth of incredible extracurricular activities that got me here, not your shitshow Spanish ‘classes’.”
“Aaaaand there it is. Little shit,” Diego tuts, but there’s no malice behind his voice. He holds onto Klaus’s hand as if Klaus might float away without it and Five suspects he’s just afraid to fall on the icy, cobbled streets.
“You’ll come home, though, won’t you?” Klaus asks, eyes shiny, bright, as he grabs Five’s chin much to Five’s faux-disgust. They come to a halt, the lightest of snow beginning to fall like gentle, cold kisses to the skin. Five looks out over the river, running free, never in one place but always there.
“Yeah. Always,” he promises, letting himself be manoeuvred and tucked into the middle of them, wrapped up between black and yellow.