Chapter Text
Five glances down at Klaus’ fingers working at his necktie, then up to Klaus’ face from under his bangs. There’s something stronger than just annoyance in the lines around his eyes, the thin press of his lips, tongue working at them from behind, like he’s biting down on some snarky comment.
“Are you sure this is necessary?”
“Trust me,” Klaus says, as he finishes adjusting the knot and smooths down the ends of the tie. “I know what attracts the perverted eye.” He gives a wink and a leering up and down over Five’s costume, as if to suggest that he speaks from experience as a pervert.
Five doesn’t seem like he’s buying it. He glowers down at his adorable little school boy get-up and then looks back at Klaus with narrowed eyes. “Are there some other names you need to be adding to our list?” he asks, in that dangerous tone of voice that fizzles hot in Klaus’ blood and gets his dick half hard every. fucking. time.
Klaus makes a noise that he hopes is less aroused whimper and more summary dismissal. He turns away before Five sees the effect of his tone and the outfit, and adds Klaus to his list. Again.
“I wasn’t keeping a little black book,” Klaus says. He shrugs. “Besides, it’s not like I didn’t get anything out of it at the time.”
“Ah.” Five bobs his head and tucks his hands in his pockets. “So that makes it alright that they took advantage of you.”
It’s sort of unsettling, the mannerisms of an older man, and the dissonance even greater than usual with Five dressed how he is. Klaus has gotten used to seeing a man well into his twenties when looking at Five, regardless of the babyface. But in the blazer and tie over the cute little shorts paired with knee socks, well. It’s a bit more difficult than usual to avoid.
Klaus looks away again to hide the flush in his cheeks. “Right,” he agrees. “Not too different from the government taking a kid off the streets and making them an assassin.”
Five gestures to Klaus with all the magnanimity of royalty, the pompous petit prince. “Put the Handler on our list. I’m not going to stop you.”
Klaus claps his hands together several times, abruptly. “Stop stalling, Five!” he cries cheerfully. “Time to march your sweet ass out to the streets! Chop chop!”
With a great deal of grumbling better suited to an old man, Five dutifully turns and slouches off towards the door. At least the posture works for the role he’s playing. He’s dragging his feet, and Klaus comes up behind to smack one cheek of his ass. “Schnell!”
Five yelps and turns on him so fast, Klaus stumbles back to avoid them colliding. Five’s hand catches him around the wrist before he can go far, fingers like branding irons. There’s a dangerous look on his face. He angles his head to the side, all venomous snake about to strike, jaw clenched, grin set too wide. “Behave,” he says.
The thing is, Klaus figures there’s no way Five doesn’t know what he’s doing when he uses that voice with him. Klaus has made his interest obvious on plenty of occasions. And it’s not like he doesn’t know what he does to Five, in turn. Klaus has been in that subconscious more times than he can count. Even if it wasn’t clear as day in moments like this: Five’s eyes dilated, the flair of his nostrils, breath coming a little fast when it so rarely does, even when he’s murdering someone.
Klaus reaches out to tug on his tie and leans in to whisper, “You gonna make me, Fivey?”
Of course, if it’s intentional, all the teasing, it doesn’t explain why Five is playing so hard to get. The way releases Klaus like he’s been burnt, blush dusting his cheeks and whirls around towards the door. Maybe he’s just a big fan of foreplay? Don’t get it wrong, Klaus loves a good tease, but there’s teasing, and then there’s torture, and if he doesn’t get another taste of that pretty pink mouth soon, he’s going to lose his fucking mind.
“What the hell am I supposed to say to this guy when he answers the door?” Five asks, as they make their way down from Klaus’ fifth floor walkup.
“Seriously, it doesn’t matter,” Klaus says, flapping a hand Five can’t even see, ahead of him on the staircase. “Once he gets a look at you, he’ll let you in.”
The young lady in 4C gives him a suspicious look on her way up past them in the stairwell, and Klaus smiles back, batting his lashes innocently. There’s no way Five was ever gonna be willing to walk out of his own apartment looking like he currently does, and Klaus doesn’t want to bring the wrong sort of attention to the warehouse. He gives exactly zero shits, however, what his neighbours think of him.
“That is your plan?” Five asks in a withering tone. “His ears don’t stop working just because his dick gets hard.”
Klaus isn’t sure that’s true, or that Five realises what he's implying about his experience, or lack thereof. “Fives, I’m not so sure about the quality of the sex you’ve been having, if it doesn’t fuck with your sensory perception at least a little bit.”
The problem with Five being ahead of him is that Klaus doesn’t get to appreciate the flustered look he’s no doubt wearing. “Now you’re making excuses for your sloppiness.”
“Do I need to write you a script?” Klaus snaps back, hassled, as they make their way through the lobby. “Isn’t this your job? That you’ve done for, like, ever?"
Ben is waiting on them outside, leaning up against the facade. He’d made a snarky comment as soon as Five showed up about how he couldn’t deal with the two of them flirting via serial murder, before fucking off. When Five spots him, he shoots Klaus a cool look.
“You know, I’ve been doing this job alone for, like, ever, too. I don’t need a ghost as a bodyguard.”
“Cool, I’m happy to leave you to your own devices,” Ben says, cheerfully flipping Five the bird.
“I’m not sure what you’d do, anyway,” Five says, matching his cheer with that smug condescension. “Given how effective you were at keeping me from killing Klaus.”
Ben shoots Klaus a look of wide-eyed incredulity. “Seriously? You seriously want me to look out for this asshole who’s bragging about killing you.”
“Yeah, but he felt really bad about that!” Klaus says. Then he adds, enthusiastic, “And he let me pick how to die–”
“Get some self-respect, what the fuck,” Ben grumbles, disgusted.
“Oh my god, we get it,” Five says. “You’re the fucking arbiter of morality and good taste.” He gives a mocking round of applause.
“Children, it’s alright,” Klaus soothes. “I love you both equally.” He shoots Five a flirtatious look. “Just in different ways.”
“We need to work on your standards, dude,” Ben mutters under his breath.
“Don’t be a hater just because you don’t get our love,” Klaus says.
Five apparently tunes out their bickering as they make their way several blocks southeast, though he stops short at the corner down the street from their destination and turns on them. “Can we focus, please? I still don’t know what the plan is.”
“The plan is you killing a fucking paedo, Five, Christ! Do you need a diagram?” Well, that comes out testier than Klaus meant. He’s trying to be cool about this, but closer to the guy’s apartment the vibes are not great. All the nasty residual energy of what’s gone there, even if he hasn’t actually killed any of the kids he’s hurt.
Both Five and Ben go quiet at his words, all their attention focusing on him–Ben with years of familiarity, Five with that keen perception that’s made him excellent at his job. Klaus makes a dismissive scoffing sound, eyes darting to the side, and he waves a hand. Neither of them are buying it.
“I don’t think you guys want me spelling out the shit I saw in that kid’s head, okay? Just, I dunno, say you’re doing some school fundraiser thing–” Wait, would that be suspicious? If another kid came around just a week later? Or would it make sense, if all the schools in the area are doing their door to door sales at the same time?
Ben shuffles a little closer and brushes their shoulders together, gentle enough to be mistaken for an accidental touch. Klaus huffs a sigh and glances around. There’s a cat perched on the fence they’re lingering behind. “Bring up a photo of Penny on your phone and say you’ve lost him! Ask if he’s seen him. And, IDK, if that doesn’t get you in the door, say you’ve been walking around awhile and ask to use the bathroom.”
Five’s watching with narrowed eyes and gives a tight nod. There’s a deadly focus in him now, like a soldier acknowledging an order. Klaus appreciates the fact that Five never asks him to defend his reasons for the names he gives. Sometimes Klaus explains why his chosen victim deserves him siccing Five on them, but there are times it hurts too much to dredge it all up beyond the very basic nature of their crimes.
“Okay,” Five agrees, taking his phone out. He glances sidelong at Ben, and the two of them come to some sort of silent agreement. Apparently setting aside their animosity for the moment in the face of their mutual hate of this asshole. After checking up and down the street for anyone looking their way, Ben flickers out of visibility for anyone except Klaus.
The two of them make their way down the street while Klaus hangs back. He has complete faith in Five’s abilities. He’s experienced them firsthand. The sleazebag he’s sent Five after is out of shape, but he’s bigger than Klaus. Five can definitely take on someone twice his size and make it look easy. But just in case, Klaus isn’t willing to risk Five to some piece of shit paedophile through some fluke. Not going to fucking happen.
Also, Klaus kinda likes watching bad people hurt, and he’s not going to apologise for it. Given the laundry list of fucked up shit he’s done and/or is into, it’s not like he can sink much further into depravity. And while Five’s participation doesn’t really give much legitimacy to his argument, the participation of Ben, paragon of virtue, does. Ben might throw some shade here and there about Klaus working with Five, or how much enjoyment he gets from watching murder, but he doesn’t actively protest, which is as good as giving his seal of approval.
Klaus hangs out of sight around the corner. From over the fence he can see Chris Russell answering the door and the expression on his face like he’s just won the lottery when he leans in close to Five on the pretext of looking at the photo on his phone. Maybe the creepiest thing is how normal he looks–late twenties, dirty blonde hair kept short, tall and muscular with a thin layer of padding. Klaus sees the most fucked up shit, and it still sometimes takes him off guard how often the murder victims he’s visited by are killed by their family or friends or acquaintances, people who he’d never look at twice walking down the street.
Russell opens the door wider and Five disappears inside as the door is closed behind him. Despite his knowledge of Five’s skill, despite the fact that he’s the one who sent Five in there, the faintest thread of anxiety winds around Klaus’ throat. He checks again that the street is still empty of foot traffic, then follows.
It’s a small, single story house with a fenced in yard. Klaus hops into the backyard, around to the screened in patio where he crouches out of the line of sight of the surrounding houses. He waits as time ticks by. A glance at his watch tells him it’s been three minutes since Five went through the front door, even if it feels like ages. From inside there’s a shout that’s quickly stifled, and the sound of a brief struggle. Something shattering upon hitting the floor. A series of thumps, growing more and more distant before dying down altogether. He reaches out with his telekinesis to unlock the door and open it, so as not to leave prints, and slips inside quickly.
The kitchen is a mess of dirty dishes, food, and beer bottles scattered over the counters. One of the chairs is tipped over, and there’s a puddle of foamy beer and shattered glass in the middle of the room. Ben, standing with arms crossed, leaned against the wall, looks supremely bored. At whatever he sees on Klaus’ face, he jerks his head toward the door across the hall, open just enough for a sliver of light to peek through, and says, “Five took him down there.”
When Klaus nudges the door open wider with his boot, revealing the stairs to the dingy basement, he can hear Russell saying some truly vile shit about what he’s going to do to Five, voice coming out all garbled. In response, Five laughs, and Russell’s voice dies off with a choking sound.
Klaus tries to be good about not reading Five’s thoughts in general, even when Five’s practically screaming them at him. But impressions are okay. Right now, the surface is all calm and collected, but just beneath is a simmering rage and dark amusement at Russell’s pain. Sometimes Five gets prickly about Klaus’ mind nudging up against his, but right now he reaches back, letting those emotions wash over Klaus, and Klaus latches onto it gratefully. When Five’s projecting his thoughts and emotions so loudly and willingly, there’s no space for Russell’s.
“Having fun without me?” Klaus says, tone light, as he traipses down the staircase. When he clears the overhang of the ceiling he sees them, Five with a garotte around Russell's throat, dragging him across the cement floor towards one of the poles in the centre of the room. The man’s face is bright red from the strangulation. There’s a bruise already forming on his cheek, and blood pours from his recently broken nose.
At Klaus’ words, Russell's eyes dart to him, and Five pauses to look in his direction. The line slackens around Russell’s throat and he drags in a shallow breath. “Who the fu–” Five tugs hard on the garotte and Russell claws at his own skin trying to loosen it.
“You don’t talk to him,” Five grunts, as he hauls Russell upright enough to get his back against the pole. There’s a rush of protectiveness along their connection that Klaus isn’t used to having directed his way. It settles over his shoulders like a warm blanket.
Russell seems to regain himself after a moment, with the garotte no longer restricting blood flow to the brain. When Russell throws out a wild punch towards Five’s knee, Klaus’ powers react without conscious thought, restraining him. There’s a look of wild panic on Russell’s face, to find his body rendered immobile from some invisible force. Five drives his foot into Russell’s side with enough force that he slumps over, momentarily incapacitated. Five takes advantage of the moment to pull some zip ties from his pocket and link Russell's wrist behind his back, around the pole.
Five straightens up, jerking his blazer back in place and pushing the fall of hair out of his face with a casual gesture that Klaus finds ridiculously attractive. He’s a picture, with his tie all askew and one sock fallen halfway down his calf, all sweaty from the struggle. Klaus lets some of his appreciation bleed over from his half of their connection, earning him startled eyes and flushed cheeks from Five, who looks away and shutters his thoughts just a little.
“Anything in particular you’d like me to do to him?”
Klaus redirects his attention to the man at their feet, and any levity leaves him. There’s an ancient, lumpy mattress covered in stains by the pole, and Klaus is overtaken by vivid sense memories associated with it, a metallic scent, body odour, blood, mildew. The rough grain of the exposed mattress, the poke of springs, the cut of handcuffs too tight leaving abrasions on the skin. Klaus cuts the memories off before they can go any further and points to the mattress. “Get rid of that, please.”
Five does as he’s asked, knocking Russell aside in the process. He groans as he stirs back to awareness as he’s jarred. His eyes blink open, squinting up in confusion at Klaus hovering over him. Klaus steps forward and kicks his leg, making space between Russell's thighs for him to get his boot right up against his crotch. The boxers Russell wears don’t do much in the way of offering protection. Klaus lifts his toe and nudges forward, bringing it down over the shape of his flaccid dick.
Russell's eyes go wide and he opens his mouth, but nothing more than the beginning of a sound escapes him before Five’s shoving a rag inside. It’s tough to say whether the vicious satisfaction he’s feeling is all his own, or if there’s some of Five in it, too. He increases the pressure slowly but steadily, lips pulled back in something between a snarl and a grin at Russell's frantic writhing and the desperate, muffled protests.
“Do you want me to stop?” Klaus asks, whisper soft. He leans over Russell, blocking out the stark light cast by the single bulb in the middle of the room. “Do you think I will, if you beg?” With a lunge, he lets his full weight come down on his front foot and grinds, hisses in Russell's ear. “Did you ever stop when they begged?”
Klaus doesn’t always have the stomach to inflict pain himself, even if he’s down to watch. This time he’s all too happy to participate. He can feel Five’s presence silently supportive behind him. Ready to step in only if and when Klaus requests it.
“What I’d like you to do,” Klaus says, meeting Five’s gaze as he lets up on the pressure, “is show me how to make him feel the most pain possible.”
Five studies him in silence. There’s a tension along the connection, but no matter what’s going on in Five’s mind, there’s never pity and there’s never doubt. “I can do that,” he says, at last.