#agnes writes

Butterfly Effect ˚˖𐦍˖˚

I'm sooo late but- since I don't really have time to write fics for the prompts, or the skill to draw something, I thought I could write poems. So. This is the first eight.

1. BIRTHDAY

Mom always made

Chocolate cake for our birthday

And it was a lovely charade

A play-pretend at normal

Like none of us knew

Pain like our own shadows

Like it wasn't growing alongside us

Oh yes, let's do this! (Did I make the ending unnecessarily sappy? ... possibly.)

**********************

Luther watches as Diego sprawls over the grass in the park like a cat napping in a patch of sunlight, mesmerized. He hasn't seen a lot of this side of him yet- and he can't get enough of it. How relaxed and unbothered he seems, his skin glowing like gold.

He thinks it would be weird that he's staring so much, but since they're dating now he's allowed to shamelessly stare a bit. Right?

"Excuse me, mister," a voice says suddenly and he shoves down the flinch at being startled. He looks down to his right and finds a little girl peering up at him.

"Uh. Hi?" He tries, confused.

She grins and tugs at his pants, "Will you go swing me?"

She points at the swingset, unoccupied and probably gleaming like a prize to be won in her eyes.

"Um-"

"Pretty please?" She jumps eagerly to drive the point home.

And, oh God, he can't say no. You don't say no to little kids who want you to play with them. That's just evil.

"I-okay," he agrees hesitantly.

The little girl shrieks with joy and then says seriously, "But you have to tell me your name because mommy says I'm not allowed to play with strangers."

"Your mommy sounds very smart," Diego pipes up. He's looking at the two of them upside down, still lying on the ground.

"I'm Diego," he tells her with a small, upside down wave and flicks his eyes at Luther.

"Oh. I'm Luther," he says.

She beams, "I'm Beth! Let's go!"

And then she's pulling him towards the swingset.

It dawns on him that he has no idea how to do this. How long does he swing her? How can he know when she's had enough? Oh god. Oh god, what if he swings her too hard and sends her flying?

"Can you help me on the swing?"

"Hm- oh. Yeah, I can do that."

He picks her up gingerly and sets her on the seat, awed at how light she is. Not that anything is very heavy for him; he can pick up Diego without a problem- but it still makes him anxious.

He nudges her experimentally, feeling a bit of joy she expresses by shrieking again, and thinks, okay. This is not so bad.

He can do this. He's not gonna sent her flying into outer space, that's ridiculous.

After a while, he notices a woman watching him like a hawk. He assumes that's Beth's mom. And then realizes how bad this may look and lifts one arm for a wave while schooling his face into a smile, hoping to come across as non-threatening as he can.

She looks to his right, at Diego, and her features soften. Without a word, she comes over to sit on the grass near him, while he rolled over to his front, watching them with his head propped up on his hands.

He thinks they start a conversation, but can't really make it out over Beth's shrieking and laughing.

This is nice, he tells himself, already making a mental note to take Claire to the park when Allison brings her over. And to take Diego along. Maybe everyone else too. They could have a picnic.

All to soon, to his- and Beth's- opinion, her mother announces they should head home for dinner.

"Thank you for this," she tells Luther before instructing her daughter to thank him as well before steering her towards the parking lot.

He watches them go, strangely plaintive.

"Don't look so sullen," Diego tells him.

"I'm not sullen," Luther defends automatically although he is, just a little bit, sullen.

He notices people watching him; well, a group of women sitting on a bench.

"Uh, why are they looking at me?" He asks Diego subtly.

Do they want him to swing their kids too?

Diego's mouth twists up into a grin.

"The ladies love a guy who's good with kids," he says, sounding smug for some reason. He shrugs and adds, "And some guys too."

"Oh."

Uninvited but provoked into existence, images of Diego holding a baby in his arms, both of them fast asleep on his chest flood his mind. Maybe they could adopt.

"I'm not that good with kids," he says, swallowing and coming to lie down next to Diego.

"You're not that bad either," Diego counters.

"And, uh, you can always get better," he adds almost shyly.

Luther smiles at him because that sounds like a suggestion.

"I'd like that," he responds, drunk on the way Diego smiles back.

Because people leave you hollow/but you fill me up/until it's impossible to breathe/think/feel anything but every particle of stardust making you a burning star/a supernova/a red giant about to swallow me whole/while I'm rooted on the spot/with a knife in my hand/trying to cut myself open/trying to cut you out

And people leave you hollow/but when I reach in/my hands come away covered in diamonds from outer space/and I try to count them/but I never manage past One

Ahkd, okay, I haven't written Ben/Five before- or much of their characters in general, which is a shame- but I hope you'll like this! ❤❤😅

****************************

Surprisingly, for someone who has 13 years of sleep to catch up on, Ben can't really bring himself to go to bed. He wanders the halls of the Academy like a ghost he is. Or was, until recent events flipped his life upside down. Morbidly, he longs for how things were before. How simple everything seemed when he was dead.

And there's no sleep when he can feel the monsters inside him are just waiting for an opportunity to come out and destroy everything in their reach.

(Now, he feels like a wolf in sheep's clothing.)

He finds Five in the kitchen. Back to him, poised in front of the sink.

He frowns.

"Five?" He calls quietly, uneasiness creeping up his neck at the sound of his voice echoing.

Five doesn't move.

"Five," he tries again, "are you okay?"

Again, Five doesn't move.

He ventures forward, bare feet slapping against tiles, and reaches out.

He just manages to snatch his arm back when Five explodes into motion, arms swinging outwards, kitchen knife clutched in his hand slicing through the air.

Ben reacts without a thought, forgets he can be heard and says automatically, "Hey, hey, calm down. They can't hurt you anymore."

The sentence usually applies to Klaus, jerking out of a nightmare, but he figures he's not too far off with directing it at Five.

They haven't heard much - or almost anything- about apocalypse or the Commision apart from the crucial things. But Five has this haunted look sometimes, different from the rest of them.

Now, he's looking at Ben like he grew a second head.

"What?" He snaps, setting the knife on the counter with a clattering noise.

"You looked like you were...not here. You can't sleep?"

"Considering I'm awake right now, I think you know the answer."

There's a pb&j sandwich on the counter next to him, and Ben focuses on it while nodding.

"Right."

Five frowns to himself and grabs the sandwich, teleporting behind Ben to sit at the table.

Ben goes to sit opposite him, not feeling like walking around aimlessly anymore.

They sit in silence for a while and- and Ben finds it a bit funny, honestly.

The lost Hargreeves, sitting in the kitchen in the middle of the night while the rest of the world sleeps.

"You got it wrong," Five says suddenly. His sandwich barely has two bites in it.

"I got what wrong?"

Five nods to himself like he just found a counter point to his original thought.

"Or maybe you were right. They can't hurt me anymore," he pauses, either for effect or steeling himself for continuation, "because I was the one doing the hurting."

Oh.

Ben mulls that over. Feels, probably misplaced, connection between them. They both did the hurting. And they both need to live with it now.

"Okay."

Five's eyes narrow into slits, "Okay?"

Ben nods. He gets it.

Five deflates; Ben hasn't even noticed he tensed up.

"You know, when I read Vanya's book, and she said you died, I almost gave up on coming back."

Ben can't breathe suddenly, has to swallow thickly past the emotions in his throat.

"I'm glad you didn't."

He dares to reach out again, set his hand over Five's on the table.

Woo, let's get this angst going! For context, Diego had a fling that resulted in twins. Mom didn't want the kids, so Diego took them.

*******************************

There are certain things people need to get used to in life. One of those things is being woken up at the ass crack of dawn because your kids can't make their own breakfast. Which, yeah, okay, Diego realizes that children who haven't passed single digit birthdays yet probably shouldn't be alone in the kitchen. Still.

"Daddyyyy," Luna intones, pushing at his shoulder.

God, he misses sleeping in.

"Mhm, yeah?" He rasps, face still smushed into a pillow. The bed shifts, and he feels a broad hand patting his side, followed by a grumbling noise.

If there's anyone who's less of a morning person than Diego, it's Luther.

"Daddy, I'm hungry," Talia says, perched on his back and okay, he should take her to the kitchen before she falls over on Luther.

With a groan- and a squeal from her- he scoops her up and gets out of the bed.

He paddles through the apartment with her hanging around his neck because she's always been the clingy one between her and her sister.

Luna has already prepared the ingredients and- aw, fuck. Diego groans.

"Girls, we can't have waffles for breakfast five days in a row."

He should kick Klaus' ass for hooking the twins on them. Diego leaves them with him for one weekend and they turn into sugar junkies.

They give him identical set of frowny faces, eyes big like marbles.

"No," he persists (however weakly).

They start pouting.

Fuck.

***

Luther finds him sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands about 30 minutes later. Talia is watching morning cartoons from the couch, legs bouncing madly. Luna is running circles around the room.

"Waffles again?" Luther asks.

Diego nods.

Since he's no longer in danger of setting the kitchen on fire, his body has relaxed into a state of semi-doziness, and he misses the pinched expression Luther gives him.

***

Diego's shoulder was itching the whole day and he just knew going to the park would be a disaster.

Luna is screaming, Talia is sniffling quietly, trying to wiggle into his lap over the backseat, Luther is silent and tense, and Diego is pissed.

"It wasn't my fault!" Luna yells, eyes filled with tears.

Diego sighs, trying to keep his voice down, "You can't just hit another kid, Luna."

"But it wasn't my fault! She started it!"

"She pushed Luna," Talia mumbles in his neck. He tightens his jaw and pulls her over all the way. They don't need cops to stop them now.

"I know, sweetheart, but it's still not okay," he responds.

Luna bursts into tears suddenly, wailing how it wasn't her fault. His heart shatters but he marches on.

"I know you thought it was the right thing to do, but you still need to be grounded."

"But it wasn't my fault, daddy!" She sobs.

Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit.

Luther's knee bumps into his but he keeps his eyes on his daughter.

Her face is wet and blotchy. Goddamnit.

He sighs heavily.

"Okay," he caves, "do you want ice cream?"

***

Allison is in the city, and the girls are having a sleepover with Claire at the mansion. Which means that they are finally, blisfully alone.

But Diego doesn't manage more than two kisses before Luther is stopping him.

"Wait, wait, I, um, want to talk to you about something."

And that's the sentence you never hope to hear from a partner.

"Uh-huh."

Luther shifts on the couch uneasily.

"It's about the twins," he says.

Oh. Oh. Diego's stomach sinks because he knows. He hadn't been with Luther like...this for very long. And he can't blame him for feeling overwhelmed and scared. He knows it's all much. Diego is his own custom made set of issues and the girls can be a handful. He's been waiting for this.

"I think you should be a bit more strict with them."

What.

"What?"

"I know you mean the best! It's just- well, I think you should set some rules for them. It's not good if you just let them string you along."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Luther squares his shoulders and opens his mouth but Diego beats him to it.

"Are you telling me I'm a bad parent?"

The ideas and thoughts start morphing in his head, images of him in a suit and a monocle making him sick. He never wants to give his girls even a glimpse of what his childhood was like.

"No, I didn't-"

"What the hell would you know about parenting? Our old man is not exactly a good example, you know?"

Luther's eyes widen.

"I-"

"They're not your kids, back the fuck off."

The words are out of his mouth before he can think about them. And he regrets them the second Luther's expression breaks.

Shit.

"Luther-"

"You're right, I'm- I'm sorry. I'll go."

"Luther!" He shoots off the couch after Luther, but doesn't get to him in time.

The door closes softly.

Okayyy, lets do this! Awkward Luther, shameless Klaus, and Diego's brief appearance.

************************

Things have been off-kilter since the 'apocalypse that wasn't'. And it's not- it's not a bad thing.

He loves the smell of flowers from the garden, the Sun on his skin, the wind in his hair. He missed that, despite the fact that gravity makes him feel about thousand pounds heavier. He's not exactly a fan of all of his siblings cramming themselves in the kitchen when he's cooking- it feels like they're ants, and he's just waiting to step on someone- but he's missed them too. So he endures.

And it wouldn't be so strange if those were the only things he has to take in account now. But being on Earth doesn't mean just being on Earth. It means, "Luther, what are you reading?", and, "Luther, did you use my toothbrush?", and "Luther, where are the car keys?", and about million other things. Going shopping with Mom and Diego. Helping Klaus paint over his room. Driving Allison to and from the airport at the wee hours of the morning. Putting together Vanya's new bookshelf for two hours because the thing was from IKEA.

It's having an actual life again. It would be quite enjoyable if not for the little surprises his siblings prepare for him every once in a while.

He has his arms full, grocery bags filled to the top and about ready to burst. They're not the easiest baggage to carry while trying to make a quick getaway, which is why he stands, rooted on the spot and turning progressively deeper shades of red with every passing minute, at the doorway to the kitchen.

"Well, this is a tad bit awkward," Klaus says, naked like the day he was born, and leaning shamelessly against the table (We eat there, Luther thinks miserably). His- um, his thing- oh, no, that sounds even weirder!- his- his. He's hard. There.

"Klaus," he chokes out. He wants to ask what the fuck is he doing, but he can't push the words out.

"You must be wondering why I'm buck-ass naked," Klaus says, "and because I'm a good brother, I will answer."

"Klaus, no-"

"I was practicing some kitchen sex."

Luther is not sure that's the proper way to announce something like that- is there one, though?- but he realizes Klaus is probably not the only naked one here. He's really, really glad he can't see ghosts.

Klaus shrugs. "You know how they say, if you can't scare them away, fuck them."

Luther cringes, says lamely, "Nobody says that."

"Eh."

Klaus moves to grab a can of coke from the fridge and Luther keeps his eyes on the safe level, inspecting the peeling paint on the ceiling.

"Can you, um- could you, uh-"

"Could I what, mein bruder?"

Luther makes a choked off noise in his throat and spits out, "Please, put your penis away."

"You can just say dick, you know."

He would pinch the bridge of his nose if his arms weren't full.

"Klaus..."

"Fine, fine. Geez, you need to loosen up, big guy!"

He slaps him on the shoulder on his way out of the kitchen and Luther shudders because- he loves Klaus, he does, but- God, he hopes he didn't touch himself with that hand. He doesn't dare to look.

"Klaus, what the everloving fuck?" He hears Diego exclaim from the lobby.