feralmerit:
Luther isn’t fast enough to evade the punch. He’s still not looking at Diego and he’s never been smooth on his feet, even before he started looking like a rogue bigfoot.
It hurts, because Diego’s never been half bad with his fists, but it has to have hurt his brother more and isn’t that always how it goes?
Whether Luther stands still or goes forward he’ll always be another cause of Diego’s pain.
Luther starts to reach, frowning at the hand tucked protectively to his brother’s chest, but then he stops. Retreats again. Diego’s already moved back and away and what’s he going to do? Break it again? Cripple his sibling because he’s too weak to keep his hands to himself? Luther’s talent has never been in putting things back together after he’s broken them, much less for being gentle to start with, he’s no use for this.
You are not to endanger your team because you’re too weak to control yourself, Number One.
“I don’t know how to live with this, Diego. You know I’ve asked her? To undo it, to rumor me again, whatever she can to make it stop– fucking with me? The only thing we could come up with–” he swallows a ragged noise, breathes in, out.
“It wouldn’t be real. I need you to be real.” And in the real world, what Luther really feels never comes out on top. Not with their father, not with missions, not with Allison, nothing. He shoves it down and makes decisions that aren’t ever what he wants and Diego’s lived in second place his whole goddamn life. He doesn’t need more of that from Luther. He can’t want that.
“You’ve seen what I do with what I care about. You can’t tell me that’s okay for you. I know it’s not.”
Not for the first, or the last or the hundredth time, Diego misses being a kid. Yeah, things were shitty then. They were science experiments masquerading as children, but it was easier. He knew where he needed to be, knew what he needed to do.
He knew that coffee cake would make Vanya unfurl and smile at you, and that Allison would forgive pretty much any transgression for earrings that dangled. Ben could be bought off with books, and Klaus, honestly all Klaus wanted was for someone to listen to him. (Five’s been gone for so long that he feels like a stranger, even in memory.)
But Luther…even big, strong Number One could be coerced when they were kids. With sweets, with model airplanes, with any kind of touch that lasted more than a second or two.
Diego misses being able to hug his brother without feeling guilty for it.
“What about our lives has ever been okay?” Going bowling on Saturdays. Sneaking out for donuts. Loving each other. Diego would kill to have that back. Any of it.
He takes a step forward, shoulders ratcheted up to his ears even as he has to tip his chin back to make eye contact. Diego has always been good at playing at being in control. He’s not.
“I’m not going to stop.” It’s not decided until the words have left his mouth, but then there’s no turning back.
“And you know what? I’m going to beat off in your bed and in your clothes and I’m going to hold eye contact while I drink a beer, and you’re not going to be able to stop me.”
If he makes it a challenge, then it’s not rejection when Luther pushes him away. It’s winning.











