recklessthings | ᶾ allison hargreeves

"Right? I KNEW I couldn't be the only one that thought so!" He laughs and leans back against the couch, plucking the joint from his sister's fingers before taking a nice, long drag himself. "I don't know which one of them needs it more, honestly," he says around a lung-full of smoke. "They're both pretty high-strung in their own ways."

He hands it back to her and tilts his head curiously. For as under each other they all were as kids (to the extent they could be, at least, given all of Dad's rules), he really barely knows her now at all. "So, Alie Cat. What's the best part of your new kinda limelight?" They'd all been thrust into it as kids, relished the attention even, but he knows the Academy was never the red carpet, either.

"I do like the way all eyes are on me."

She grins widely as she takes the joint and leans back to take another drag. She's starting to feel the floaty edges of the drug taking effect, even if it's not as strong as it could be yet, and she's already starting to relax.

"But ... it's hard to really appreciate it once you become aware of how fake it all really is."

That easy-breezy, floaty feeling is the best part and Klaus tilts his head back and groans softly as he can feel it sinking in slowly. Bonus: The spirits aren't drowning him any more. They aren't gone completely yet, but what is usually an impossible-to-ignore din is dulled to the quiet chatter of a coffee shop scene in a film. There, but not loud, not the primary focus.

At that comment, he can't help but jerk his head back up to look at her. "Shouldn't you already have known that? I mean-- it's not like people knew the real us in the Academy days." He pauses and tilts his head. "I guess we didn't know the real us then, either... just little carbon copy soldiers for Dad." His lip curls up in disgust at the thought of it. He really hated it here so much-- they all did, in their own ways.

"I don't know." She reaches over to pass the joint back to him again. "I think part of me thought that it was doing something I wanted to do rather than Dad forcing me to do it, it might have been better."

But it wasn't. Because she was still using the same tricks, rumoring her way into the best circles, giving herself all the parts she wanted. No one was her friend because they wanted to be her friend.

Even her husband and daughter weren't real on some levels.

"But it was all the same. Me forcing the world to bend to me instead of me bending to the world."

"Well, you can't blame yourself for it, Allie Cat." He says before taking a long drag from the joint, offering it to her again, and if she doesn't take it, he'll put it out. "You were doing everything you were taught practically from birth. Don't let the others pretend like Dad didn't fuel their entire lives even after they left here-- Diego's been vigilante'ing it up like a full-blown Academy has-been for years, Vanya wrote a whole book because of him and us and everything... and well," he gestures toward himself, as if that answers everything about himself. And... maybe it kind of does. "We're products of how we were raised, just like everybody else in the world."

He shifts suddenly, long legs draping over the arm of the couch as he drops his head into Allison's lap, staring up at her, reaching to twirl one of her curls around his finger gently. "Plus, who wouldn't talk their way into all the best places, and the biggest money, if they could do what you can, sis?"

"Fair point."

She will take one last drag before letting him put it out, and slumping back in the chair. He's not wrong that she was simply behaving as she was trained. The only difference is, she knows that there are areas she took it too far.

"But there's a difference between rumoring my way into a premiere or an audition and rumoring my own kid because I was frustrated."

He continues to toy with her hair a little as he listens to her further explain what she meant. But he still stands by what he said. And further still, "Anyone who says they wouldn't do the exact same thing to their kid if they could, is a fucking liar." He isn't trying to absolve her for something she feels, knows, has faced consequence of the highest order of being wrong. But... still.

"But I get it." At least. He understands it. Intellectually. As a concept. He doesn't need kids, and he's just lucky no one has turned up and dropped one in his lap in the last decade.

He's thoughtful for a moment before he drops his hand away from Allison's hair and just stares up at her, the tiniest of smiles on his face. "What's my niece like anyway? I've seen the pictures, she's fucking adorable, I know that much." He gets why she wouldn't bother bringing her home to the family. Even if they were more together and normal than they are, he'd be the last one anyone would want around their kids and Klaus knows it.

Allison chuckles softly, her hand matching his as they smooth through his curls. they're likely tangled because Klaus's version of self-care likely doesn't include owning a hair brush, but it feels soothing, at least.

"She's ... the best. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love her." She smirks. "You'd like her though. She's a troublemaker, just like you."

Not that they all didn't cause trouble in their own way, but Claire's mischief never comes from a place of anger, nor is it malicious. It's simply for the joy of it.

There's a brightness in Allison when she talks about Claire that makes him smile just to see it. If everything wasn't such a mess, he'd want to meet her. But... well.

"I wish things hadn't been so... estranged, everywhere... I'd be a pretty cool uncle, right?" As long as he was sober at the time. He can't help the self-deprecating thought that Allison may have kept him away for all of that, from creeping along the inside of his mind. It'd be the smart thing, the safe thing, but still.

"Yeah, you would. You'd be the uncle who would get her into all kinds of trouble, just because I said not to."

And that is said with all the fondness in the world, because let's be real. Every kid needs an uncle who will get around their parents. But she also knows the reason why he says it, so she follows up with:

"I wanted her to meet all of you. She wouldn't go to sleep without at least one story about our 'adventures.'"

"Cookies for breakfast is totally reasonable, I don't know what you're talking about." He grins widely up at her. Yeah, he'd definitely be that uncle. Sweets beyond all measure, staying up way too late and passing out on the couch with her on top of him, probably.

"Her own personal superheroes, huh?" He muses quietly, gives a soft hum that's one part amused and a lot of other parts sad. Because as much as he remembers reveling in the attention they received once upon a time, for the most part? Their lives as The Umbrella Academy were anything but a fun adventure.

They were, it's true. Allison sugarcoated most of their lives, because she didn't think her daughter needed to know the nitty-gritty details. And more to the point, she wanted her daughter to see her as a hero. Even if she broke that trust eventually.

"Yeah, something like that." She also wanted her daughter to love the people she loved. She doesn't have to see their flaws just yet.

"Do you think... maybe one day, when life isn't exploding in nine thousands directions, I could meet her?" He asks softly, almost like he's scared of the answer, idly twisting his fingers together.

"I would really like that," she nods with a small smile. "And I'm pretty sure it would make her day." Just ... please be a little sober when it happens. That's all she asks.

ᶾ allison hargreeves | the umbrella academy

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