The Perfect Suit (Klive)
The mission had been successful, as always. But when Five returned from the Commission offices that morning, something had changed drastically. The gray-suited bastards had decided that an elite assassin with the appearance of a teenager was no longer "professionally appropriate." Without warning, without consultation, they had simply altered his temporal biology during his last jump, granting him the body that corresponded to his years of experience.
Now he appeared twenty-six: broad shoulders that filled shirts perfectly, a defined yet elegant torso that spoke of years of lethal training, arms that displayed the subtle but devastating strength of a professional assassin. His build remained lean, but every line of muscle had been sculpted with precision, creating a harmonious silhouette that was both deadly and seductive. His face had matured, losing its youthful softness to reveal a more pronounced jawline, defined cheekbones that accentuated his piercing blue eyes, and a presence that finally matched his fearsome reputation.
What they hadn't considered was his wardrobe.
Five observed himself in his bedroom mirror, his blue eyes reflecting deep frustration as he tugged uselessly at the sleeves of his school blazer. The pants reached mid-calf, the shirt strained dangerously across his now-broader chest, and the tie looked more like a dog collar.
"Goddamn temporal bureaucrats," he muttered through gritted teeth, loosening the tie that now fit him ridiculously poorly. Decades protecting the timeline, eliminating anomalies, being the best at what he did, and now he found himself reduced to this: a grown man dressed like a schoolboy on his first day of classes.
But there was something else bothering him, something that had been growing in his chest for months since they'd returned home from the sixties. Klaus. Always Klaus. For years he had rationalized his protective need toward his brother as simple family loyalty. But the truth was far more complex and terrifying: he desired him. He desired him with an intensity that kept him awake at night, that made him make irrational decisions in the field, that consumed him every time Klaus was in danger.
And now, with this body that finally corresponded to his mind, those feelings threatened to overflow completely, and the question was: What was stopping him from claiming what he wanted?
A soft knock on the door interrupted his dark thoughts.
"Fivey?" Klaus's sing-song voice filtered through the wood. "I heard you had a little... wardrobe problem."
Five closed his eyes, mentally counting to ten. Of course Klaus already knew. That man had a supernatural radar for drama and opportunities to cause chaos. Especially now that he had learned to use his powers without depending on substances.
"Come in, Klaus."
The door opened and Klaus appeared in the doorway, and Five felt his breath catch in his throat. His brother wore only an emerald silk robe that barely reached mid-thigh, the fluid material caressing every line of his slender body. But what truly stole Five's breath were his legs: long, pale, and wrapped in dark stockings that extended to higher than the robe allowed him to see. The subtle sound of heels against the wooden floor made Five's eyes travel downward, where they found black heeled shoes that accentuated the elegant curve of Klaus's calves.
His curly hair was slightly tousled, as if he had just gotten out of bed, and there was something in his eyes that Five had never seen before: a spark of mischief mixed with something deeper, more dangerous.
"Well, well..." Klaus looked him up and down slowly, his eyes stopping at every place where the clothing strained against Five's new body. "It seems someone finally grew up. And I must say, brother, the result is... impressive."
Five felt warmth bloom in his chest at Klaus's tone of voice. There was something different in the way he looked at him, as if he finally saw him as something more than the child trapped in impossible circumstances.
"The idiots at the Commission decided to make some... adjustments," Five growled, tugging again at the jacket. "Without consulting, of course."
Klaus approached slowly, and Five could perceive his scent: a mixture of incense, something sweet that might have been vanilla, and something purely Klaus that had always driven him crazy.
"Well," Klaus extended a hand toward Five's tie, his fingers accidentally brushing the skin of his neck, "clearly you need help with this. And although I have a date tonight, I suppose I can take the time to help you find your style."
Five froze completely. The words hit his chest like ice bullets. "A date?"
"Mmm-hmm," Klaus hummed, clearly enjoying the effect his words were having. "A really handsome guy I met at the café. Beautiful blue eyes, dangerous smile... you know, the type of guy who screams 'danger.'"
Five's jaw visibly tensed. A cold, calculated fury began to grow in his chest, the same one he felt before eliminating a target. But this time, the target was hypothetical, and that made it infinitely worse.
"What time?" Five asked with a calm he didn't feel.
Klaus blinked, clearly not expecting such a controlled reaction. "Excuse me?"
"Your date. What time?"
"Uh... eight o'clock," Klaus replied, a nervous smile crossing his face. "Why?"
Five smiled, but it was a smile that would have made a professional hitman consider changing careers. "Simple curiosity."
Mentally, Five was already calculating. Eight in the evening. That gave him enough time to locate this "handsome guy," find out everything about him, and ensure he had a very convincing emergency that would prevent him from showing up. Perhaps a sudden family problem. Or mysterious food poisoning. Or he could simply appear at his door and explain, very clearly, why canceling the date would be the smartest thing he could do.
"Fortunately," Klaus continued, completely oblivious to Five's homicidal thoughts, "I have the perfect solution for your wardrobe crisis."
