Chapter Text
The call came on Diego's birthday. Reginald, in an unlikely display of affection, had decided to throw him a party and it seemed as though everyone Diego had ever known was crowded into his parents’ living room. He wanted nothing more than to sneak back up to his childhood bedroom and ignore everybody else for the rest of the night, but everyone was technically here for him, so they’d probably notice if he crept off. Besides, ever since he got back home his parents hadn’t given him any fucking privacy; he had thought living here the first time around was awful enough, but it turned out that moving back in at twenty four was just as painful. At least Grace hadn’t insisted on family bonding time yet.
The music was so loud that he almost didn’t hear the phone ringing at first, and when he did it was only thanks to a break in the song. He was the closest to it and it offered some relief from inane conversations with distant ageing relatives, so he snatched it up before anyone else could offer to.
For a second he was confused and he had to stick his finger in his other ear to block out the din of the party, but then an automated message came through and— who the hell would be calling his parents from the state penitentiary?
Diego accepted the call, because of course he did, and glanced over his shoulder at Reginald. The man was currently drinking champagne with Grace's mother and talking about the weather: he was the last person Diego would have thought to associate himself with criminals, petty or otherwise. When the voice came through, it wasn’t what Diego had been expecting at all: it was a guy, and young at that. His voice was soft and sort of high pitched, and decidedly not one Diego recognised.
“Reginald?” The kid asked as Diego breathed down the phone. “Are you there?”
“This is his son.” Diego blurted out as soon as he found his voice, listening carefully, interestedly, to the hitch in the boy's breathing. “Who is this?”
“Oh.” The kid replies, sounding oddly, pleasantly surprised. “Diego?”
“Yeah?” This whole situation felt vaguely surreal. Was Diego seriously having a phone conversation with a child criminal his father apparently knew in the middle of his birthday party?
“It's Klaus. Um, okay, I guess this is gonna sound kind of strange to you but they're gonna take the phone from me any second. Can you ask your dad to bail me out? Tell him it's Klaus, he'll know who I am. I'll be waiting.” Diego desperately wanted to ask just who the fuck this boy was, but it didn’t seem like he was pausing for breath. “Oh fuck, okay, looks like I've gotta go now. Thanks Diego, make sure you tell him, yeah? I'm relying on you.”
“Wait, hang on, what—” Diego finally managed to say, but there was a humming in his ear. The line was already dead, and Klaus was gone.
Diego stood still for a second, the phone still pressed to his ear in utter bafflement, before a hand clapped down on his shoulder and he jumped into action. He slammed the phone down - maybe a little too hard - and spun on his heel to face whichever grandmother had undoubtedly come to pinch his cheeks and tell him how much he’d grown.
Thankfully, it was Reginald.
“What's the matter?” The man asked straight away, noticing Diego’s expression. His father had never been a stupid man, and he didn’t miss how Diego's eyes narrowed at him now.
“That was... Klaus.” Diego told him, and watched in interest as Reginald's face paled. “Someone called Klaus just called. He asked me to tell you to bail him out of prison.”
Reginald's fearful expression shifted to something a little more relaxed, a little more irritated, as he arched one thin eyebrow. "Is that all he said?" Diego nodded slowly. Reginald sighed. "Okay, thank you. Diego, would you do me a favour and drive? I worry I've had too much to drink."
“What, and leave this wonderful party?” Diego responded flatly. Reginald glared at him, deadpan. “Sure, c'mon. I'll get my coat.”
***
Reginald told him to stay in the car, and slipped out before Diego could even string together a sentence of protest (his main argument being that it was his birthday, he had already abandoned his party, and he didn’t want to sit outside in the car by himself).
So he was left to his own devices, and his mind spun in circles. Who was this ‘Klaus,’ and why would he call Reginald for help? He wasn’t even sure if his father would bail him out of jail if push came to shove, so this must be someone important to him, and for the life of him, Diego couldn’t figure out who. So he sat and waited, tapping on the steering wheel with one hand, biting his nails on the other, and bouncing his leg up and down.
It took awhile, but eventually his father emerged from the building, ushering out a kid and urging him towards the car. Diego unlocked the car doors and deliberately did not turn around to stare at this stranger; immediately he was met with a sweet laugh, and arms being draped over him from behind. He could feel the kid’s hair brushing against the side of his face, the way that, when he spoke, his lips brushed the shell of Diego’s ear.
“Is this Diego?” The same voice from the phone was addressing Reginald, who gave a simple, reluctant nod, and buckled his seatbelt. The boy squealed in delight. “I’ve heard so much about you! I’m Klaus. Thanks for relaying my message—I knew I could rely on you!” Diego awkwardly patted the boy’s arm, and murmured a small ‘nice to meet you,’ not really sure what he was supposed to do or say. He could sense Reginald watching the exchange with a displeased expression on his face. Klaus just giggled and pulled back, seemingly unperturbed, to take his place in the backseat.
Diego took a glance in the rearview mirror, and his heart skipped a beat.
Klaus was gorgeous. Pale skin over delicate features: high cheekbones, a jawline still a little soft from youth. He had unruly brown curls, big green eyes, and a killer smile that Diego wanted to kiss off him. Their eyes met - brown on green - and Diego flushed. Klaus gave a coy little smile, like he knew exactly what Diego was thinking, and winked at him. Goddamn winked at him. Diego could feel blood rushing to his cheeks, like he himself was the teenager receiving attention from his crush. He schooled his expression and looked away. This was a kid, probably no older than seventeen, and he shouldn’t be having this sort of reaction about someone young enough to still be in high school. Diego was a grown-ass man.
He silently chastised himself, then turned to his father.
“W-where are we g-going, Reginald?” he asked, annoyed with himself for the brief relapse into stuttering. Reginald cleared his throat, pointedly avoiding eye contact.
“Back home.” He said shiftily. When Diego glanced in the mirror to the back seat he could see Klaus watching Reginald with an indecipherable expression and, for some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, it made him anxious. “Klaus will be staying with us indefinitely. Put on your seatbelts.”
Diego had so many questions, but knew better than to question his father when he was using that tone. So he buckled himself in, turned the key in the ignition, and started on the drive home.
***
When they arrived home the guests were gone, and Mom was cleaning up. She turned to greet them with her usual dazzling smile, but once her beautiful blue eyes came across Klaus her smile faltered and her face fell.
“Oh,” she said, barely audible. “Welcome to our home.” Her voice trailed off, and her expression was unreadable. “Please excuse me, I’m coming down with a terrible headache.” She gave Reginald a saddened look, and walked quickly up the stairs— the sound of her footsteps and the bedroom door shutting trailed behind her. Reginald sighed.
“Diego, give Klaus something to eat. I need to tend to your mother.” And with that, he was climbing the stairs after his wife. Diego was concerned about Mom—this wasn’t like her at all. She always greeted guests with a smile and pleasant conversation, and Klaus looked like exactly the kind of person she’d offer to fix up a snack for. He was skinny enough, after all. Part of him wanted to abandon Klaus in the entrance and sneak up the stairs, eavesdrop on whatever his parents were saying, but one look back at the kid next to him told him he couldn’t do that.
For all his confidence and bravado in the car, Klaus looked mildly terrified now. His eyes were wide and suspiciously damp, roaming Diego’s house like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He wrapped a protective arm around his middle and it was only then that Diego really noticed what Klaus was wearing, and more importantly how he didn’t have any luggage with him. ‘Indefinitely’ could be a long time, and if Klaus didn’t bring any of his own clothes with him was he going to have to stay forever in what he was wearing now - a baggy sweater and jeans worn out and torn at the knees - or was Reginald going to ask Diego to lend the kid some clothes?
The image of Klaus with one of Diego’s baggy baseball t-shirts hanging off one shoulder and nothing else popped into his head, sudden but not entirely unwelcome. If they were too big on Diego they’d absolutely swamp Klaus, and Diego’s vision almost whites out with the desire to see Klaus, sleepy and soft and half naked in Diego’s bed.
“What do you want to eat?” He asked quickly in an attempt to banish the thought. The last thing he needed was to pop a boner in front of their new ‘indefinite’ house guest.
Klaus looked at him then, and for a brief second Diego thought he saw something flash across the kid’s face: he looked exposed, hopelessly vulnerable and so, so scared. Then the moment was gone. Klaus’ lips twitched up at the corners and he became once again the person Diego saw in the car, a playful kitten chasing a string.
Diego had a feeling he might be the string.
“Whatever you’re having.” Klaus answered, shrugging easily and following him into the kitchen. He blinked in surprise at the marble island in the middle of the room and then rolled his eyes, hopping up onto a stool and drumming his fingers on the counter with a dopey grin before Diego could ask what the matter was.
“I’m not having anything.” Diego answered testily, on edge by how fucking pretty the kid looked. There was still a bunch of leftover food from the party stashed in the fridge, and he figured Klaus wouldn’t mind being given their leftover snacks.
“Then I guess that’s what I’ll have.” Klaus joked, watching Diego carefully. He felt nervous under the kid’s gaze, like any mistake he might make would be noticed and recorded, but when he looked up again Klaus was just smiling easily. He wasn’t an enemy, Diego reminded himself. Just because it took Diego’s breath away how much he wanted to have his cock in Klaus’ mouth didn’t mean Diego had to punish him.
“Nope.” Diego said simply, nudging a tray towards him with a pointed expression and taking a seat opposite the kid. Klaus looked from the Diego to the tray and back to Diego again, a small, genuine smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Thanks,” he murmured. Then, “Is it someone’s birthday?”
Diego followed his nod to the banner still hanging from the ceiling; it looked a little depressing now, from where they were sitting in the dark eating cold sausage rolls and cupcakes.
“Mine,” Diego answered stiltedly. Then, before Klaus can ask, “Twenty four.”
Klaus’ expression twisted. “Your parents threw you a party?” He asked, voice bittersweet. “That’s cute.”
Diego felt a pang in his chest, the sudden need to protect this boy in front of him almost overwhelming. To combat it, he said gruffly, “What, your parents didn’t throw you sweet sixteen or something?”
Klaus’ fingers fiddle with a carrot stick, picking it apart and dropping bits on the table anxiously. “What makes you think I’m sixteen yet?” At Diego’s horrified expression - because god, please don’t let him have been leering at a fifteen year old all evening - Klaus laughed. “Relax, I’m just fucking with you. I’m seventeen. The most my mother ever did for my birthday was get me a packet of cigarettes.”
Diego wasn’t quite sure what to say to this revelation, so he just looked down uncomfortably. Klaus laughed again: a soft noise, cute with the way his eyes wrinkle when he smiled. Diego decided he wanted to hear Klaus make that noise again, make him smile all the time.
“Happy birthday, though!” Klaus cried, a complete three-sixty from just seconds ago. He shoved a cupcake under Diego’s nose and bounced in his chair excitedly, his hair bobbing up and down with him. “Make a wish!”
“There’s no candle.” Diego pointed out, ever the killjoy. Klaus rolled his eyes again.
“Whatever. You’re allowed to make wishes without candles on your birthday. It’s a rule.” Against all odds, Diego felt himself smile; in the face of Klaus’ utter adorableness he really didn’t think he could be held accountable.
“Yeah?”
“Totally.” Klaus agreed. He swiped a finger through the white icing on top of the cupcake and sucked the tip of his finger into his mouth, watching Diego intently. Some of it smeared over Klaus’ mouth and down his chin and, fuck, Diego was absolutely getting hard in his pants now. Around the finger in his mouth, Klaus whispered, “Make a wish.”
Diego was fairly sure he was blushing bright red again and that really wasn’t fair. It also wasn’t fair that Klaus got to tease him like this and Diego’s conscience refused to let him act on it. Klaus was seventeen— that was legal.
Besides, flirting didn’t equate to intent. So what if he just… responded in kind?
Slowly, in case Klaus wanted to back away, Diego leaned across the tabletop and encircled Klaus’ skinny wrist with his fingers, tugging until the boy’s finger slid out of his mouth, shiny and wet with spit. Then, carefully, he ducked down and parted his lips around it, letting his tongue move in circles around Klaus’ fingertip. He tasted sweet, but whether that’s icing or just him Diego couldn't be sure.
“Okay,” Diego smiled innocently, and when he looked up Klaus was watching him with wide, startled eyes and a slack expression. Diego pulled away. “C’mon. Eat something and then I’ll take you to the guest bedroom.”
Klaus still seemed a little shocked - not so much that Diego began to worry if he’d misread the signs, but enough for him to be pleased that he’d managed to silence him - and Diego recognised that expression. That was exactly the expression seventeen year olds would give when they’d first been noticed by someone older, someone more experienced; the kind of excited, nervous expression given when you didn’t expect your flirting to actually pay off. Diego had seen it before, though never on someone as pretty as Klaus.
So, okay, Klaus had daddy issues. Diego should absolutely not take advantage of that.
He wondered how long ‘indefinitely’ would turn out to be.