Open ☂ We get a little restless from the searching, get a little worn down in between

[numberthree]

WHO: The Hargreeves + Guests
WHERE: Various Cities
WHEN: Month of June
WHAT: Mass log of idiots to keep from flooding others. A log for all things Hargreeves, their Adventures, and those trying to befriend them.
WARNINGS: Obligatory CW for: drugs, alcohol, mentions of death and child abuse.

"NEEDTOBREATHE "Brother feat. Gavin DeGraw" [Official Video]" (Watch on YouTube)

Comments

[deadlycurves]

"I came through that door first!" One arm flings wildly behind him, in the general direction of the door, his face incredulous.

It's stupid. This whole thing is completely stupid and futile and it doesn't matter, but... it does. It matters because it's the kind of thing they never got to do, growing up. The kind of things siblings were supposed to argue about, normal pieces of family life they never got to have.

"Nuh- Nope. NO!" What's he doing? He's running and-- yup, he's standing on the bed. Like the mature adult person he is. Pointing at Luther like he means business. "You don't get to pull that card, buddy!"

[numberthree]

Could you two be any louder? This from Allison who'd finally grown exasperated with listening to the yelling from down the hallway, where she'd been stocking sheets and finding herself retroactively grateful she'd never had to think of having two dozen and more sheets needed as a child.

Which is gone, obliterated in the second she actually rounds the door to the room Diego claimed that first day, while sending it. Her eyes going wide and her mouth dropping open, though it's hard to know if she noticed, because she was already typing at that point. You've got to be kidding me. Seriously? You're on the bed? Seriously?

It's happening faster than it can even be seen on her face. Still arriving at then, even as she persists forward. Exasperation the level she doesn't think she's had since Claire's own screaming tantrums over wanting something. She points at Luther. You.

Are over there now. She pointed to one wall.

Then, at Diego, on the bed. You.

Are over there. She pointed to the oppposite wall.

They are both, basically, the same size, and I will put anyone who argues over the square footage in the smallest closet we have, downstairs in the garage. And all of this -- She actually sends it right there, as though she were talking. To create the point as she throws her arms out, fingers wides, gesturing to the room around them. -- is now mine because neither of you remember how to not be five.

[obediences]

It's such an instinctive thing: just as Diego's hardwired to obey Luther (when the stars line up and he feels like it, at least), Luther's hardwired to listen to Allison. And though they can't hear the sharp, exasperated snap of her voice cutting them back into line, they both respond to those words slamming into their vision just as if they had. When Diego slinks off the bed, Luther looks over at the wall and the adjacent room that is, now, apparently his by executive decision.

(Still the one next to hers. At least there's that.)

And Luther could be abashed, apologetic at this absolutely childish little squabble that had erupted with all the pressure of a decades-plus rivalry behind it -- but instead, the corner of his mouth twitches at the absurdity of it all. And that rare, dry-as-bones sense of humour creeps out:

"We're not Five," he says. "Five's the other one."

[deadlycurves]

"I could try," is the first, knee-jerk response to Allison's very first message in his face suddenly. In such a stupidly petty quip that it was befitting of a 12 year old at best. Somehow, it's more sobering the second she's in the room, jaw-dropping and incredulity shining in those so, so very judgmental words. "....No?" He offers weakly as he slides back onto the floor. He isn't exactly deflated, so much as suddenly seeing for all the world like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner. However, there is no one, bar Luther, that Diego will ever truly kowtow to at all, and perhaps least of all Allison. So, when she starts trying to make demands of him to go stand on a wall on the opposite side of the room away from Luther? He stubbornly stays exactly where he is. Feet planted on the floor there, just in front of the bed, arms folded across his chest, eyebrows arched in his sister's direction. Any pretense of annoyance is lost when he breaks and snickers at Luther's joke about Five, though he doesn't say anything else. Only casts an amused glance in his brother's direction.

[numberthree]

Allison has no real clue why it is Diego suddenly looks dead set on not moving, like he's hunkering into the ground, but, honestly, Diego was jumping on a bed five seconds ago and Diego can do whatever the hell it is he wants to now that his feet are back on the ground and they aren't on what became her bed five seconds ago.

In a room she never planned for or even wanted.
(What is she even going to do with this much space?)


It's the only thought in her head, ten seconds late, when Luther makes decides to get cute.

Which means he totally gets a look. Head tilting and eyebrows raising.
Very much questioning if he just tried that.

[obediences]

Of course he just tried that, and so there's that small smile still lurking, irrepressible and his main form of answer. And Diego snickered, which means it succeeded in at least one of its intended directions, and Luther's feeling rather pleased with himself. Sharp wit has never been his forté; that's always belonged to these two, and to Five. Luther and Klaus tend to stick their foots in their mouth instead.

"Alright. So. That's settled, at least. This is your room now." At least it's a decision, and that's better than what they had a few minutes ago.

[deadlycurves]

He just gives Allison a look that is somehow a shrug with face, while never actually moving a single piece of the features of it at all, besides a little jerk of his head. A silent 'What?' of childish indignation. Everything about this house had brought some buried twelve year old in him out, ever since the first day when he and Allison had broken in to see it in the first place. This, it seemed, was no different. He casts a glance between the two of them before he lets his arms drop away from his chest, and marches toward the door. "Whatever," he sounds a lot less bothered than he may actually be, but it's fine. He'll deal. Whatever room he gets is still going to be better than the one he'd grown up with, and the boiler room apartment in the gym. He taps the top of the doorframe on his way out, leaving the pair of them to whatever it is they do when no one else is in the room and heads down the hall to the one on the other side that Allison decided was his.