title from song "Umbrella" by Rihanna. wc: 1986

under my umbrella

It's five in the fucking morning when there's a sudden thumping on the door of Diego's apartment.

He's awake in a second, slipping out of bed and wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts. He reaches under his pillow, grabbing the knife he keeps there, and holds it tightly in his fist as he creeps out of his bedroom and towards the front door.

The thumping doesn't cease—if anything, it grows more insistent. Gritting his teeth, Diego tenses his muscles, unbolting the door, and—

—and finds Five standing in the doorway, face stained with crimson splotches, dark hair mussed, and seeming wildly unimpressed.

"Intimidating," he says dryly, looking Diego up and down.

Diego exhales sharply, lowering the knife. "I thought you were a bad guy, Five."

"I am," Five replies, and there isn't a trace of a smile on his face. It makes Diego extremely uncomfortable; then again, Five has always been good at making people extremely uncomfortable.

"What do you want?" Diego demands.

Five looks up at him. "Let me stay here for the night."

Diego's eyes widen. "Are you insane?"

"Consider it a… brotherly favor," Five sneers in that condescending tone of his. "Just let me in, Diego. No questions asked and I'll buy you a coffee tomorrow morning."

Diego hesitates, opening his mouth to ask about the red stains peppering Five's uniform, but he decides against that. He doesn't really want to know. "I don't have peanut butter," he says instead, which is the only weak defense his mind can dredge up this early in the morning. "How are you supposed to make your peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches without peanut butter?"

Five glares at him.

Shaking his head exhaustedly, Diego steps out of the doorway. Five marches into his apartment, promptly collapses onto the couch, and falls asleep.

Well then.

Diego briefly considers not going back to sleep, just in case Five has a violent burst of inspiration in his dreams or something and decides to murder him, but then he decides he's too tired to actually care.

So he returns to his bedroom and crumples down to his bed, eyes shut and breathing steady mere moments later. That's one thing Diego's always been good at—falling asleep.

He has nightmares, of course. Sees the faces of Eudora Patch and his mom, melting away in pain before his very eyes.

He wakes up in a cold sweat, entering the living room at around ten in the morning only to find Five gone and three still-hot black coffees sitting in to-go cups on his kitchen table. Along with them is a note that reads, If the police arrive with a warrant, I'm sure you'll figure something out.

"Wonderful," Diego sighs to himself, crumpling the note in his fist. He sits down and drains all three cups of coffee, letting the heat of the liquid chase away the lingering cold stains of nightmares from his skin.

The next night, it's one a.m. and Diego is up watching shitty soap operas when the doorbell rings. He tenses, hopping lightly off the sofa and unsheathing one of the knives strapped to his belt. He's still in his full leather crime-fighting gear, too exhausted and lazy to bring himself to change.

He strides silently to the door of his apartment, a sudden sense of deja vu overwhelming him as he unlatches the lock.

It's Five. Again.

Of course.

This time, Five isn't covered in mystery stains (thank God). But he is cradling Delores in his arms protectively, the mannequin's head nestled against his shoulder.

Diego exhales. "Why?"

"We're staying here for the night," Five announces primly.

"No. That was a one-time thing."

Five snorts. "Don't be an asshole."

Diego's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. "How am I the asshole? You're the one who keeps turning up uninvited—"

"I hope you bought marshmallows," Five continues, ignoring Diego completely and pushing past him.

"Why would I buy marshmallows?" Diego sputters, shutting the door. "I didn't expect this to become a regular thing!"

Five shoots him a patented bitch stare. "Delores and I are taking the couch." His eyes slide to the soap opera still flickering on Diego's ratty TV. "Are you going to be playing that crap all night?"

Diego sighs, threading a hand through his hair. "I'll turn it off," he mutters.

Five only repays him with two coffees in the morning, left steaming hot on the kitchen table, because he's a cheap bastard. Diego scowls.

"He should've given me extra, considering Delores was with him," he grumbles to himself. As Diego gulps down the coffees, the liquid scalding his throat, he grabs a pencil stub from the junk drawer and scribbles a note on the back of a receipt lying on the countertop:

ONE PERSON = 3 SMALL COFFEES

He's giving this note to Five.

And that's how it all begins.

When there's a knock on the door at half-past midnight, Diego doesn't even bother grabbing one of his knives. He opens the door, expecting Five and possibly Delores.

Instead, he sees Klaus, grinning brightly at him in all his tight-pants crop-top glory.

"Diego!" Klaus sing-songs. "My favorite sibling! So good to see you, as always."

He flutters his mascara-lined eyelashes before brushing past Diego and into the apartment.

"Wait, what—what are you doing here?" Diego demands, utterly perplexed.

"Five mentioned the little operation you've got going on," Klaus replies absently, peering at the TV in interest. "Do you know if there's anything good on tonight?"

"Hold it," Diego manages through gritted teeth. "Five said what?"

"A Hargreeves family bed and breakfast!" Klaus exclaims. "Except you provide the bed, and we provide the breakfast!"

"This isn't a fucking bed and breakfast," Diego spits. Goddamn it, Five. He's going to kill the little brat.

"Oh?" Klaus hums. He leans over the small kitchen table, plucking a small scrap of paper off the wooden surface. "'One person equals three small coffees,'" he reads aloud. Then he smirks. "I don't know, dear brother of mine. Seems as if you've got everything set up already."

For a second, Diego just stares at him. "Fuck."

Klaus beams. "I'll bring you doughnuts in addition to the coffee if I can sleep on a bed and not the couch."

"I only have one bed," Diego shakes his head. "I'm not giving that up."

Klaus pouts. "Not even for doughnuts?" He cups his hands around his mouth, like he's whispering. "Prices are going up, you know. Desserts are expensive. Come on, all you have to do is give up your bed for one night and you get a dozen fresh doughnuts and three coffees."

"Six coffees," Diego bargains. "Because I know Ben is with you too."

Klaus's eyes grow wide, the picture of mock-innocence, but then his gaze shifts slightly to his left, like it always does when he's talking to Ben.

"Oh, fine," he mutters at the empty space beside him. He looks back to Diego. "Okay. Six coffees. But only because Ben says I have to 'do the right thing.'"

"Thanks, Ben," Diego says tiredly, resigning himself to a night on the couch. Why does he get himself into these situations?

"Ben says it's no problem," Klaus reports. "Now, which way is my bedroom?"

"My bedroom," Diego grumbles under his breath, and then he leads the way down the hall.

Diego sleeps on the couch. He wakes up with a crick in his neck and a sore back, but there are six hot coffees and a box of doughnuts waiting on his kitchen counter, as promised. Klaus also left a note, written in marker on the lid of the cardboard doughnut box:

CONGRATS! Your hotel gets 5/5 stars. Ben says hi. Also, I nearly slit my throat on the stupid knife you keep hidden under your pillow, but I forgive you so no worries! Xoxoxo save a doughnut for me pls

Diego snorts. After eating three of the doughnuts (which are, admittedly, delicious), he sticks the rest in the fridge and makes a mental note to offer one to Klaus later.

He also goes up to his bedroom and slides his under-the-pillow knife into a leather sheath. Just so Klaus doesn't slit his throat.

Klaus returns the next night with Ben in tow. (Diego can't see Ben, of course, but Klaus translates to him that Ben says hello). They eat doughnuts and watch some stupid action movie on TV.

It's… surprisingly nice, actually, and then the doorbell rings again, and when Diego answers, it's Vanya, of all people.

They stare at each other for a moment: Vanya, fidgeting awkwardly on the doorstep, and Diego, gaping in shocked silence. It's still weird with Vanya, of course, but everyone's been trying to include her more in "family things," so…

"Oh, what the hell," Diego mutters. "Come on in, Vanya. You get the couch. Three coffees in the morning as payment. And feel free to join me and Klaus for an action movie."

"Cool," Vanya says, smiling weakly and obviously relieved she didn't have to ask anything herself. "Thanks."

She does end up joining them for the movie. Klaus waves cheerily at her and she waves uncomfortably back, perching on the edge of a seat cushion.

Diego digs around for spare sheets and makes himself a bed on his kitchen floor.

The things he does for coffee.

Luther has the audacity to show up the next night. Diego shuts the door in his face, because he hates Luther, and behind him, from the living room, he can hear Klaus and Vanya snickering.

The only reason Allison comes over is because she knows Vanya has started staying at Diego's place. Diego welcomes her, though, because why not, and also, she brings a stack of pizza pies for all of them to share. So it turns into Klaus, Diego, Vanya, Allison, and an invisible Ben sitting on the couch and eating dinner.

Every morning, when Diego wakes up, he's the only one inside his apartment. But the assortment of coffee cups and doughnut boxes amassing on his counter is getting ridiculous.

The next time Diego goes grocery shopping, he buys microwave popcorn, a tub of peanut butter, and marshmallows. He and Klaus finish most of the popcorn within day one of its purchase. And, though Diego never sees Five, the peanut butter and marshmallows are being slowly depleted, so he knows that Five is dropping in every so often.

And then, one morning, Diego wakes up on the hard kitchen floor to the sound of voices. Laughter.

He sits up immediately, straightening out his black t-shirt, and sees Allison cooking scrambled eggs over the stove. Vanya is brewing coffee beside her, talking amiably, and Klaus is draped over the couch and engaged in a conversation with an empty space that Diego presumes to be Ben.

"Good morning," Diego mumbles drowsily, still slightly confused. "You all… you all stayed."

"Yeah," Allison replies with a smile. "We figured we'd have breakfast together."

Diego scoffs incredulously. "Us. Breakfast. Together?"

Vanya shrugs. "Why not?"

Diego runs a hand down his face, trying to wake himself up. This has got to be some sort of weird-ass, really obscure dream.

His siblings don't do things together unless it involves life and death situations. Or unless Reginald is involved.

But, no, here they are, in his apartment. In his kitchen.

It feels odd. Strange. But Diego finds he doesn't mind all that much.

"Allison is a shockingly good cook," Klaus informs Diego. His expression morphs into something more teasing. "And to think, all this time we thought she was nothing more than a pretty face!"

"Hey!" Allison exclaims from by the stove. "I resent that."

Diego can't help but laugh. There's something warm in his chest, something new and unfurling and sort of embarrassing, so he would never admit it, but he thinks this is what it means to have a family.