Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader
A/N: I came up with this idea because I was listening to Ripley Alexander's wonderful cover of Mamma Mia.
Not unbearably loud—by Hargreeves family standards, this is actually relatively civilized—but still loud enough that Five already regrets agreeing to come.
Music hums through the house, people crowd the kitchen island, and somewhere in the backyard Diego is apparently arguing with Luther about whether hot dogs count as sandwiches.
Five made the mistake of listening for three seconds earlier.
Now he can never unknow it.
Beside him, Y/n is tipsy.
Just warm and giggly and affectionate in that soft way she gets after two glasses of wine.
Five lost count when she started stealing olives from other people’s drinks.
“You’re cute when you’re grumpy,” Y/n tells him, leaning against his shoulder.
Five snorts quietly into his whiskey.
Across the living room, Klaus is attempting to explain tarot cards to a deeply confused accountant named Michael.
Viktor notices Five watching and mouths help him.
Five immediately looks away.
“You having fun?” Y/n asks.
“That’s basically your version of happiness.”
Y/n smiles and presses a quick kiss to his cheek before wandering off toward Allison and Lila, who are loudly debating whether Diego would survive on a reality cooking show.
And despite himself, something soft settles in his chest.
Four years married, and he still catches himself staring at her sometimes.
The way she laughs with her whole body.
The way she instinctively reaches for him in crowded rooms.
The way she makes every place feel more like home.
One of Diego’s coworkers stands nearby holding a beer.
Tall guy. Early thirties. Friendly face.
Five thinks his name might be Aaron.
“Yes,” Five says cautiously.
Aaron grins. “Diego told me you work for the CIA.”
“Apparently, everyone here knows that.”
Aaron laughs. “Man, I bet you’ve got some crazy stories.”
Normally, this is the point where people either:
A) think he’s joking,
B) think he’s insane,
or
C) start asking him questions about aliens.
None of the options are good.
Still, Aaron seems harmless enough.
“Weirdly,” Five says, “the strangest story I have actually involves a Monkey in Prague.”
Aaron blinks. “Seriously?”
“That’s the craziest story?”
Five is just opening his mouth to continue when—
Y/n’s voice cuts across the room.
Warm. Teasing. Loud enough for several nearby people to hear.
Y/n is standing near the dining table holding a wine glass, smiling in that tipsy, affectionate way she gets when she thinks she’s being funny.
“Nobody wants to hear your apocalypse story again,” she announces dramatically.
A few people nearby laugh lightly.
Aaron chuckles awkwardly.
Small enough most people wouldn’t notice.
But Y/n does not miss the way something shutters briefly behind his eyes.
It lands harder than she intended.
Five talks about the apocalypse sometimes at parties after a drink or two, especially when people ask questions. Usually Y/n gently redirects him because afterward he tends to get quiet and distant.
She thought she was helping.
Just takes a sip of whiskey.
Aaron clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh… we were actually talking about Prague.”
Y/n’s smile falters immediately.
Five sets his glass down carefully.
“The monkey,” he says calmly.
And somehow the calmness makes it worse.
“Oh,” Y/n says again, softer this time.
Then looks back at Aaron. “Long story short, I won.”
But the moment is already wrong now.
Five keeps talking politely for another minute or two, but there’s a distance in him now.
And suddenly Y/n feels sober enough to realize she may have genuinely hurt his feelings.
A little while later, she finds Allison near the kitchen.
“I messed up,” Y/n says immediately.
Allison glances toward the living room where Five now stands alone near the bookshelf.
“I made fun of the apocalypse thing.”
Allison winces instantly.
“I thought he was about to start telling one of his stories again.”
Allison sighs sympathetically. “Yeah, that probably hurt.”
Y/n looks miserable. “I didn’t mean to.”
Across the room, Five laughs quietly at something someone says.
Y/n knows his real laugh.
Guilt twists sharply in her stomach.
Because the apocalypse stories—
They’re too much sometimes, yes.
Those memories live in him constantly.
The years he survived completely alone.
And she’d just turned it into a joke in front of people.
The rest of the evening feels off after that.
That somehow makes it worse.
But he barely looks at her.
The cold shoulder from Five Hargreeves isn’t loud.
And somehow that hurts more.
By the time they leave, Y/n feels awful.
The drive home is silent except for the radio humming softly in the background.
Five keeps his eyes on the road.
Y/n keeps glancing at him.
But he doesn’t say anything else.
And Y/n’s chest aches immediately.
Because usually—even when he’s angry—he talks to her.
When they get home, Five quietly hangs up his coat and walks straight toward his study.
Y/n follows him a few steps.
“I still need to go through a few files for work.”
Then he disappears into the study and closes the door gently behind him.
Y/n stands there in the hallway feeling like the worst person alive.
Because she knows what she did wrong now.
She made him feel ridiculous.
Like his trauma was some embarrassing party trick he couldn’t stop bringing up.
He hadn’t even been talking about it.
Y/n groans softly and drops onto the couch, pressing her hands over her face.
“Great job,” she mutters to herself.
From down the hall, the study remains quiet.
But Y/n is slightly tipsy and deeply in love with her husband, so stupid ideas happen sometimes.
Five has always had one impossible weakness:
He would rather die than publicly admit how much he likes ABBA.
Because three years ago she caught him humming Dancing Queen while making coffee.
He’s never recovered from the humiliation.
A moment later, the opening piano of Mamma Mia fills the apartment.
From inside the study comes immediate silence.
She ignores him completely.
Instead, she climbs onto the coffee table dramatically, points down the hallway, and starts singing.
“I’ve been cheated by you since I don’t know wheeen—”
The study door stays shut.
“So I made up my mind, it must come to an end—”
A muffled groan comes from behind the door.
Y/n keeps going, swaying dramatically with the music.
“Look at me now, will I ever learn—”
The study door finally opens.
Five stands there staring at her.
His eyes already look softer.
Y/n points at him dramatically while singing the chorus.
“Mamma mia, here I go again—!”
Five exhales through his nose, somewhere between annoyance and reluctant amusement.
Y/n hops down from the table and walks closer, still singing quietly now.
“Mamma mia… does it show again…”
Five watches her carefully.
And suddenly she doesn’t feel silly anymore.
The music continues softly in the background while Y/n finally stops singing altogether.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
Five says nothing at first.
Y/n twists her fingers together nervously.
“I thought I was being funny,” she admits. “But it was mean.”
The honesty in his voice hurts.
Y/n nods immediately. “I know.”
“I wasn’t even talking about that.”
Five leans against the doorframe with a tired sigh.
“I already feel insane half the time when I mention any of it,” he says quietly. “I don’t need help feeling worse.”
Y/n’s eyes sting instantly.
She steps closer carefully.
“I never want you to feel like I’m making fun of what happened to you.”
“You weren’t entirely wrong,” he mutters. “I do talk about it too much sometimes.”
“No,” Y/n says immediately. “You talk about it when it’s stuck in your head.”
That makes him finally look at her again.
Y/n reaches for his hand slowly.
“You survived something horrible,” she says softly. “And sometimes I think I forget how real it still feels for you.”
Five’s shoulders loosen just slightly.
“I wasn’t trying to be difficult,” she whispers.
“You really hurt my feelings with the silent treatment, by the way.”
That earns the tiniest flicker of amusement.
“You climbed onto furniture and weaponized ABBA.”
Five snorts softly despite himself.
Y/n steps fully into his space now, wrapping her arms around his waist carefully.
“I’m sorry,” she says again against his chest.
Five stays quiet for a second.
Then finally wraps his arms around her too.
“You’re lucky I love you,” he murmurs into her hair.
Y/n smiles immediately. “You absolutely adore me.”
“Let’s not get arrogant.”
