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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴀʟʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꒱


❝ WHAT IF I JUST CALLED
YOU. . . GUITAR MAN? ❞

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"So it's easier to stare at a portrait of me than at my actual face?" Five asked teasingly, causing Dolores to glare at him as her face turned pink.

"Shut up," she mumbled, glancing back up at the portrait above the fire place.

He came to stand beside her and placed his hands in his pockets as he looked up at the painting. "You like it?"

The girl was quiet for a moment before she announced decisively: "no."

He turned to her with surprise. "No? That's literally me."

The brunette shook her head. She faced the boy next to her to look between the subject and the finished product before she answered firmly, "the eyes are wrong."

"Wrong?" Five repeated incredulously, "they can't be wrong. My father would've commissioned the best painter he could find—"

"Not like that," she cut across him, "it's, well, in the painting, they're rather. . . flat, I guess. Flat and lifeless and dull." She turned, glancing briefly to meet the boy's real-life eyes before she focused her gaze on his nose again. "Your eyes don't look like that at all."

"Oh," the boy said, not knowing how else to answer. He thought the eyes were just fine, but at Dolores' description, the familiar, pleasant warmth filled his chest and his face flushed against his will. He was glad that his father preferred dim lighting. Taking a hand out of his pocket, he caught the girl's with his own and tangled their fingers together. Almost immediately, he received three squeezes in response, causing his face to grow warmer.

Trying to change the subject, he started, "your hands—"

A quiet sound made them turn and a brunette woman stood awkwardly in the doorway. Five glanced up at his portrait again as his tone became more formal. "It's nice to know that dad didn't forget about me."

Five Hargreeves suffered from the same selfish streak that all of the seven children experienced. Instead of time, or things, or other intangible items, his selfishness came in the form of a person: Dolores. She was the only thing— person— that was truly his in the world. The apocalypse had made material things inconsequential and time was already his power, so the one thing he could truly claim as his own was his wife. She'd been the only one to live with him for those would-be terrible years in the apocalypse. She'd always been there when he needed her and she offered her support and loyalty unconditionally.

Now, they weren't the only two people in the world. Dolores' time would become divided with his other siblings and anyone else they came across and Five wasn't sure if he was ready to have her shared attention. A part of him wanted to hide her away in his room as something— someone— nice to return to after a successful day of saving the world. He didn't want to share her with his bumbling family or to have them influence her way of thinking. On the other hand, he felt a certain loyalty to the family he hardly knew— he was, after all, hellbent on saving the world for them— and he knew he couldn't keep his two worlds separate forever.

He also knew that when this inevitable collision happened, he would never be able to tear them apart again. Dolores would be in his family's lives permanently and his family's lives would be in hers. He was sure that her influence would change them for the better as it was just her way, but the variable in this equation was how his family would change Dolores. The unknowns had always left him feeling rather. . . worried.

He had too many things on his plate at the present moment to add another, so instead of wasting energy thinking about it something he couldn't control forever, he continued to speak: "I read your book by the way, Vanya." He tacked on her name for Dolores' benefit.

Next to him, the brunette's eyes widened in surprise. "You're Vanya?" she asked excitedly, "I loved your book— I read it too, I mean. You're such a great writer, it's incredible. I found it when I was younger because I wanted to write an autobiography and I was looking for inspiration. My dad told me that you wrote one so I took notes from it to write a better one myself—"

Five gave the girl next to him a soft, amused smile as he watched her rambled enthusiastically to his arguably favorite sibling. Vanya, on the other hand, was looking decidedly uncomfortable and seemed unable to believe the praise the brunette was giving her. At a break in the girl's words, the older woman nervously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she said quietly, "thank you, but I'm really a terrible writer. I don't know why they published my—"

"Nonsense," Dolores interrupted her swiftly, "you're a great writer, I'm the crappy one. I mean, I never even completed a book and you have. And it's published! I loved how you were able to write like you were really there— well, I mean, of course you were, but you could make others feel like they were there, too. I mean, nothing exciting at all happened in my life prior to—" She stopped abruptly, looking awkward.

Five, thankfully, saved her by introducing them. "Vanya, this is my wife, Dolores. Dolores, my sister, Vanya."

The girl had the decency to look embarrassed. "Sorry, Vanya. I didn't mean to get so excited but I never thought I'd actually meet you. I've never met anyone famous before."

"Hey!"

"You don't count," she told the boy easily.

The older woman picked up on the seemingly odd introduction. "Wife?"

"Yeah, uh, we're married," Dolores said. She used her free hand to lift the necklace containing her ring from her neck.

Vanya seemed uncertain of what to do with this information but said awkwardly, "congratulations?"

"Thanks."

There was a beat of silence before Five returned to the previous conversation: "I thought your book was pretty good, all things considered. It was definitely ballsy, giving up the family secrets."

"They hate me," the brunette confessed quietly.

"Well, there are worse things that can happen."

"Like what happened to Ben?" Vanya asked.

"Was it bad?" at the boy's question, Dolores squeezed his hand comfortingly.

✧✧✧

The six Hargreeves siblings plus a blonde woman that Five had whispered to her was Grace and what seemed to be an anthropomorphic chimp (who Dolores was having trouble not staring at) that Five told her was Pogo, all gathered at the kitchen door to make their way out to the courtyard for the ceremony. While they readied themselves to stand in the rain, the brunette ran a tongue along her dry lips as she wiped sweaty hands on the sides of her uniform dress.

As Five opened an umbrella over the two of them, he caught the action and gave her a worried look, which meant: are you okay?

She briefly caught his eye and nodded: just fine, don't worry about me.

His eyes narrowed: I'll always worry about you, and your hands were sweaty earlier.

She jerked her head in the direction of his siblings: we have an audience. I'll tell you later.

The boy didn't look particularly happy but sighed as he held out his arm to the girl. If her hands were damp, she probably wouldn't want to hold his. She slipped her arm through his and glanced back at the chimp who was waiting patiently for everyone to get ready. It was probably just her imagination but she could've sworn he'd worn a shocked expression when he saw her before he'd greeted her genially.

The group made their way outside under the drizzling rain and stood in a misshapen circle near Ben's statue— she could only assume it was his from the metallic shaping of a young boy as the plaque was too far away to read.

As they waited for the ceremony to begin, Grace asked, "did something happen?"

They turned to look at her with confusion and Allison answered, "Dad died, remember?"

"Oh, yes of course."

"Is Mom okay?" Allison asked, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, she's fine. She just needs to rest. Recharge, y'know?" the man dressed in black— Diego, Five had told her— answered.

"Whenever you're ready, dear boy," Pogo said.

Dolores watched Five's biggest brother— Luther— turned the urn over and dumped out the ashes so they fell in a pile onto the wet leaves. The brunette felt very out-of-place surrounded by the other members of the Hargreeves family. She wasn't technically a Hargreeves so she shouldn't be at their father's funeral. She'd never even met the man and now here she was, standing with his. . . grieving?— that didn't sound like the right word to use— children. She couldn't help but feel like some sort of imposter at a family gathering, or maybe someone who'd been invited to a Halloween party only to be the only one wearing a costume.

She shifted uncomfortably next to her husband as Luther spoke: "probably would've been better with some wind."

"Does anyone wish to speak?" Pogo asked. When no one said anything, he continued: "very well. In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master and my friend, and I shall miss him very much." He paused before he added, "he leaves behind a complicated legacy—"

"He was a monster," Diego interrupted him almost carelessly, "he was a bad person and a worse father. The world's better off without him."

"Diego—"

But he wouldn't stop. "My name is Number Two. You know why? Because our father couldn't be bothered to give us actual names. He had Mom do it."

Grace, perhaps hearing her name, asked, "would anyone like something to eat?"

"No, it's okay, Mom," Vanya reassured her.

"Oh, okay."

"Look, you wanna pay your respects? Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was," Diego continued.

"You should stop talking now," Luther interrupted him, but his brother turned on him, too.

"You know, you of all people should be on my side here, Number One."

"I'm warning you."

"After everything he did to you? He had to ship you a million miles away."

"Diego, stop talking—"

"That's how much he couldn't stand the sight of you!"

Dolores jumped slightly as she watched Luther take the first swing and Diego retaliated. Pogo tried to control the situation but it made no difference. Shaking his head in disappointment, he left. She'd heard of siblings not getting along, she'd seen it on TV sitcoms where they'd argue until the cows came home, but she'd never seen siblings come to actual blows. She watched the fight continue with wide eyes.

"Come on, big boy!" Diego taunted as he hit him.

"Stop it!" Vanya cried while Klaus had the opposite reaction and called: "hit him! Hit him!"

As they continued fighting, Five gently tugged the arm the brunette was holding to catch her attention as he turned away. "We don't have time for this."

She followed him back inside the house, looking worried. "Will they be okay?"

His attention was already on other things and he barely glanced at her. "Who? Diego and Luther?" Without waiting for a response, he replied, "they're like this all the time."

Her brows furrowed. "They are?"

The pair stopped in the kitchen and Five began to hunt through the cupboards. "Yeah. Growing up they were always at each other's throats. I'm surprised it's taken this long for it to become physical."

Dolores moved to the table where, after a quick jump, she sat on the surface and swung her legs as she watched Five continue his search. "Are you looking for coffee?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I know you, you idiot."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

"Aw, that's so sweet!" A new voice made her jump and she turned to see a man wearing a skirt— Klaus— enter the room, carrying a guitar. He took a seat at the head of the table and folded himself professionally into the armed chair. His hazel eyes watched her interestedly. "Who are you?"

"I'm—" the brunette started to introduce herself, only for Five to cut across her.

"Ignore him," he advised.

"What? Why?" the girl asked, confused.

Klaus pointed at her. "I agree with Tiny Blue Eyes."

"I'm not tiny!"

"Your feet don't even touch the floor, darling."

"Don't call her darling," Five snapped in response, earning an eye roll from the brunette.

"If you won't let me introduce myself how's he supposed to know what to call me?" she pointed out.

"Tiny Blue Eyes is smart!"

Dolores turned to the dark-haired man. "I'm Dolores, and would you please stop calling me that?"

"Never, Tiny Blue Eyes. It's your name now," he insisted.

The brunette rolled her blue eyes. "Okay, what if I just called you. . . guitar man?"

"He'd literally be fine with anything you call him," Five said as he moved to look through the dry goods.

"So, what's your relation to us, Tiny Blue Eyes?" Klaus asked.

"Oh, uh," the girl paused to glance at the boy who was bent over to search the lower shelves. Shrugging off the uncertainty since everyone was going to find out they were married eventually, she answered, "we're married."

The man grinned. "That's nice, but I don't remember saying that bi-word agreement."

"No, Five and I are married. I'm Dolores Hargreeves."

Klaus' eyes widened as he took in the information. "You're— you're married to him?" He pointed to the boy. "Out of all of us, why did you choose him?"

"He's the only one I met," Dolores answered with amusement, "besides, he's exactly my type."

"Thanks, Dolly."

"'Course, Fives."

"Aw, you two even have nicknames for each other!" he exclaimed happily, "I don't know how you put up with him so you must be an angel. I could never," he finished empathetically before his expression turned impish. "Since you're married, have you. . . y'know—" He let go of his guitar to make a crude gesture with his hands.

Dolores' eyes widened. "Klaus!" she exclaimed, embarrassed.

"Well, have you? I mean, it's important for every healthy, monogamous relationship— and not just for monogamous ones, either—"

"Klaus." Five's use of his brother's name was much sharper.

The man lifted his hands defensively."Hey, I'm just inquiring after the condition of your relationship, that's all. I just want to be sure my little bro and new little sister are happy—"

"We're both older than you," the boy grumbled as he turned to grab a chair so he could search the upper shelves.

"Where's Vanya?" Allison's voice made the two sitting at— or on— the table turn, not having heard her approach.

"Oh, she's gone," Klaus answered airily.

Dolores frowned. "That's unfortunate."

Allison studied her for a moment before she agreed. "Yeah."

The two had yet to be properly introduced, but Five spoke before they could say anything. "An entire square block, forty-two bathrooms, nineteen bedrooms and no, not a single drop of coffee."

"Dad hated caffeine," Five's sister pointed out.

Klaus scoffed. "He hated children too, but he had plenty of us."

There was a moment of silence before Five decided, "I'm taking the car."

He walked over to where Dolores was sitting and gently grasped her wrist to blink them both out of the kitchen as Klaus asked, "where are you going?"

"To get a decent cup of coffee."

"Do you even know how to drive?" Allison asked, incredulously.

Dolores grinned. "He knows how to do everything," she announced proudly before they disappeared in a flash of blue.

✧✧✧

They reappeared outside in the family's car. Without missing a beat, Dolores reached over and carefully drew the boy's seatbelt across him. Five made no move to do it himself since both of his hands preoccupied with holding tightly on to the steering wheel. She frowned at his tense form as the buckle clicked and gave him a worried look, though she didn't say anything as she buckled herself in.

Eventually he spoke in a quiet voice: "so, that's the family."

The brunette's eyes never moved from his form as she answered, "they're very. . . chaotic."

He snorted. "That's one word for them and a nicer description at that." She saw his eyes move to glance at her, though his head stayed still before they focused on the road again. He made no move to start the car as he continued: "I know. . . they're a lot to handle and they're definitely not perfect, and they can be loud, and obnoxious—"

"Fives," Dolores interrupted the boy's rambling. She reached over to gently pry his fingers from the steering wheel to take them in her own. "They're your family," she said simply.

He finally turned to look at her. "But—"

"They're your family," she repeated, "they're who we're saving the world for. You don't have to excuse them, you know."

Even after all these years of knowing her, Dolores still managed to surprise him. Five didn't understand how she could so easily accept his mess of a family but she seemed entirely unbothered by their chaotic-ness, as she'd put it. But then again, he really shouldn't have been surprised. She was the type of person never to be easily put off by anything, no matter how difficult or strange or absurd it was. She faced every challenge head first and even if she was met with a brick wall, she kept running at it from different angles until the obstacle— not her— crumbled.

Giving her hand a squeeze, he freed himself from her grip to start the car, only to return his hand to hers once he began driving. There was no more to say on that subject, so he instead said, "your hands—"

"I know," Dolores agreed quietly as she fisted her free one in her lap. "They're abnormally. . . sweaty." She sounded embarrassed as she admitted it. "I thought it was just nervousness from being in a big group. My mouth is still dry which I thought was also from, well, discomfort, but. . ."

She trialed off and Five moved his eyes from the road for a split second to take in the frown on the brunette's face before he returned his gaze to the front. "Do you feel. . . any other odd. . . uh, symptoms?"

"Well," she began as she shifted slightly in her seat, "I thought Pogo looked at me funny, like he was just as surprised to see me as I was to find out that, well, someone like him existed, but I was probably just imagining it." She turned to peer into the dark back seat. "I do feel as though we're being followed now."

Five tugged gently on her arm to have the girl face front again. "No one's following us, Dolly. I mean, The Commission will track us down eventually but we're good for now."

"I know," the brunette agreed, though it didn't stop her from continuing to shift uncomfortably in her seat.