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It's an inopportune moment to be getting a stress migraine, so Five retreats for his old bedroom. He needs to finish the quantum-leap equations without overhearing Diego and Klaus bickering loudly.
Sir Reginald kept Five's room exactly the same — dusky lit lamps, pistachio-green walls angled irregularly, solid wood furniture and dark neutral quilts, bed-covers, sheets and pillowcases — but now with mothballs in his closet space and an excessive amount of dust clogging the insides of Five's nose.
He certainly doesn't expect to see Vanya in his favorite sitting chair, gazing expectantly as Five enters.
"Hey," she says softly, greeting him. Vanya's smile widening pleasantly. There's a lack of brilliance in her eyes that Five remembers glimpsing as a child. She had been lighter, unabashedly curious and defiant once. This fearfulness shrouds her like a death-veil and Five would rip it from her if he could.
Five marches past her, climbing onto his mattress.
"What are you doing in my room?"
"Oh, just, waiting up for you. I let myself in." Vanya goes ramrod-straight, clasping her hands and letting them dangle between her knees. Five side-eyes her, watching as the teeniest wrinkles on Vanya's face deepen. "I feel like we haven't really gotten any time to talk," she adds quietly.
"Time really isn't something on our side with the apocalypse fast approaching," Five counters. He bends over to pick up some of the white chalk, then hesitates. "… What are you doing with Dolores?"
Vanya has reached for the mannequin, holding her aloft, gazing over her features.
"So this is Dolores, huh?"
When Vanya drops Dolores into her lap, Five jerks slightly, as if meaning to catch her. Vanya jerks in surprise as well. His brows furrow. "Be careful with her," he says, glancing between them curtly. But there's a recognizable softness in Five's tone. "She's already been through a lot."
He turns back to the chalked equations on his bedroom walls, scraping away and mumbling.
"Right. Sorry." Vanya lets out a breathy, embarrassed laugh after a moment. She gazes back at Dolores. "Nice to meet you. I'm Vanya." Five gives up mid-line stroke, his gut twisting. He stares back around at Vanya shifting the mannequin, presenting Dolores's hand to Vanya's own and leading a handshake.
"I would appreciate it if you weren't patronizing."
At the undercurrent of anger from him, Vanya narrows her eyes, frowning.
Defiant.
Oh, now that is what he remembers best about her. All of that fiery, young spirit. How Vanya refused to be left out of the Umbrella Academy from an early age, tagging along on missions, arguing with Sir Reginald and Pogo, sketching in permanent black marker on her arm every night after getting a wash. Five remembers when she first showed him, coming off boastful, gently thumbing her umbrella tattoo.
"I'm not trying to be. I'm…" Vanya trails off, sighing.
He wonders vaguely if her long, brown hair smells like apricots still. Five loathed how his knees went to jelly when a younger, wistful Vanya skipped by. One of her hands fall sideways, aimlessly gesture.
"I'm trying to understand, Five."
Five returns to glaring intensely at the wall, raising his chalk-hand.
"Well, that's the thing—I don't need you to."
He gets through another doubled row of equations, puzzling over the numerical placement, chewing on his lower lip before Vanya speaks up as a afterthought, "She's pretty."
Five's jaw tightens.
"Hadn't really noticed," he blurts out, scolding himself for furthering the pointless conversation.
"Oh?" Vanya raises an eyebrow. "That's kind of rude to say to a special someone you spent your life with," she teases. And that worst part is that Dolores agrees with Vanya, as if they are somehow old friends, compelling Five to grit and bare his teeth, huffing, shaking his head.
This is driving him nuts. Five came to his old bedroom to be alone.
To concentrate on saving them.
But, godammit, he cannot look away as Vanya examines Dolores with purposeful, thoughtful intent, cradling the back of Dolores's neck. Her eyes lidding. Vanya's forefinger drags over the round paleness to Dolores's cheek, to her blush-painted mouth. Five's pulse speeds up.
It's such a clear, fantastical image in his mind — Vanya getting back on her feet solemnly, pulling her grey sweatshirt over her head and then unbuttoning the rest of Dolores's white-and-black polka dotted blouse. Removing her tank-top. Vanya's dark, satiny bralette unhooking. Her palm gliding up over Dolores's smooth breast, as Vanya kisses an eager Dolores, opening her lips and pushing her tongue to flatten over Dolores's perfect, pouty mouth. She tumbles onto the quilts, belly-laughing, hugging Dolores to her naked chest and murmuring to Five standing above them, urging him to join—
The piece of chalk in Five's hand snaps apart.
Goddammit.
"Okay, that's enough," Five says monotonously, wrenching Dolores out of Vanya's hands. He can practically feel his companion's disappointment. His cheeks burning red.
"What?" Vanya yelps, stumbling as he forces her out of the chair, pulling on her sleeve. "Five—"
He orders her to get out! and slams the door behind Vanya. Not wanting to know how his irrational behavior and emotions has only hurt Vanya more. She doesn't need this. He doesn't need this either. Five sends a sharp, warning look to Dolores propped up on the mattress. She's so holier than thou.
"Don't start," Five grumbles, stomping over and arranging her by the window.
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TUA isn't mine. OH LORDY YEP. WE GOT WILD THIS TIME. Prompt asked "Five/Dolores/Vanya, fantasizing" and I'll gladly hear any comments from you guys! Thanks!