A/N: I have no idea what came over me. I just had to write this.

Number Five wanted — no, needed — coffee. It was the best thing on the entire fucking planet, and there weren't a lot of good things. No, he knew too much. He'd seen the god damn apocalypse. He'd worked for the Commission. Things were… shit. But coffee, that was good.

But he wanted it now. What to do about that?

He smirked, all alone in his room as he considered it.

Perfect.

He jumped.

He didn't just jump in space. He jumped in time. It was almost like changing a channel, like he walked into a different show, or episode, like the world he was on wasn't round or big, and time wasn't a straight line. Everything was fluid, his to move around in like a photon through a quantum electromagnetic field.

So he did this and he ended up in the basement kitchen. Ten minutes ago.

As Five predicted it was empty, and he went about getting the coffee ready, starting up the coffee machine, pouring the grinds into the filter, adding the water, and pressing the ON button.

Satisfied as he heard it start brewing, he jumped back to his room, a little less than nine minutes ahead.

Perfect timing.

A double of himself wasn't there.

And of course he wasn't. The whole time Five had been getting the coffee ready he'd been doing the math and equations in his head. Paradox psychosis was the last thing he needed. It was a rare chance he'd get it anyhow. Ten minutes was not a lot of time, and was far easier to traverse than years. It was like leaping across stones on a river, and ten minutes was a short distance. A decade, years, the other stone was nearly unreachable and he could slip into the water of time and end up in the wrong year. That was hell, as he knew, and he wasn't planning on doing it again.

Five turned to his bed, and grabbed Dolores, and held her against his hip as he smiled. She was about one of the only things that could genuinely make him smile.

That and coffee.

"You want some coffee, Dolores? Yes, it should be all ready. Brewed it ten minutes ago. I'll pour you a mug." He started walking downstairs, still continuing the conversation. "Yes, yes, I know you like it with cream. Let's just hope Klaus didn't drink the rest of it thinking it was milk while he was… in one of his states."

Down the stairs.

"No, I don't think anyone would've drunken our coffee."

Passing by Luther and Allison. He just ignored that, even though Allison said hi. He could feel her eyes on his back when he didn't respond.

Not his problem.

Coffee.

Talking to human beings would have to come later. That's just how it worked.

"How do I know that? Dolores, do you doubt me? Look, I left a knife sticking out of the counter in front of the coffee machine. Yes, I think that's a clear warning. No, no, darling, it's alright."

Through the massive living room, to the kitchen.

"I love you, too."

He set her down in a chair when he got to the kitchen, and arranged it so that she'd be facing forward at the table.

Five made the coffee, and then he sat across from her. He clinked their mugs together, smiling, content.

These small moments in life where he could just worry about his love, and his favorite drink, were peaceful. No family to fix, no things to explain, no memories to worry about clogging up his brain. Often, he saw his family dead. But with this pick-me-up, he forgot all about it.

Five took a sip, sighed, leaning back in the chair and sliding down it so his lower back was in the seat of it.

"Dolores, this is the life."

He could've sworn he saw her eyes twinkle.

Satisfied, happy, he drank more coffee, the warm bitterness bringing life into his too-young bones.