Promise [Number 5 X Reader]

- Win Some, Lose Some -

It was really strange seeing someone you'd known to be dead—save for the few times Klaus had either manifested him or been possessed by him.

Klaus was the first one to make contact with the familiar face, "Ben." 

Taking a step forward, Luther asked, "So, you're really alive?"

The individual in question looked rightfully confused, his face scrunching up in a way that would've been quite unusual for him in the time that you had known him. Then again, he seemed to be wildly different from the Ben you used to know.

He never would have called someone an "asshole" with such frivolity. 

"Who the hell is that up there?" Diego hollered, getting to an arguably more important point.

"The Sparrow Academy," Reginald answered from beside the fireplace, the matter-of-fact tone already beginning to grate on your eardrums. The "Sparrow Academy" members on the balcony looked between each other with almost as much confusion as Ben had regarded your rag-tag group of comrades with. "They are my prized protégés: my children." The individuals visibly puffed up at the praise, looking more than ready to brawl.

"Excuse me?" questioned Five, rounding on the old man. "That's impossible."

Yeah, no way in Hell would anyone willingly call that old fart their dad, you pondered.

Reginald scoffed, "I believe I'd know, yes?" The footsteps that sounded behind you alerted you to the fact that the Sparrows had joined your group on the ground floor.

"So . . . just so we're clear," Klaus pondered absentmindedly, "I am not the only one who can see Ben, correct?"

"What, the hat blocking your vision, Princess?" Klaus only tipped his hat in return to Ben's sneer, he the stylish man looked positively flattered.

"Children," Reginald announced, "the individuals before you refer to themselves as the 'Umbrella Academy.' While I was in Texas in 1963, this group of malicious dissentients accosted me, claiming to have been adopted by me as well."

Allison's face crinkled in disdain as she turned to her teammate, "Five, wanna tell us what's going on?"

"Something that's getting more unnerving by the second," replied the young man.

The tall, muscular leader of the Sparrows stepped forward, "Is he telling the truth?"

You shrugged sheepishly, "I mean, dissentient is kinda accurate, but we're definitely not malicious." 

"Exactly," Klaus backed you up, "we're not malicious, we're delicious." For once in a very long time, it took a great deal of willpower to not turn and smack Klaus in the face.

Vanya stepped in to further attempt to diffuse the situation, "We are adoptees of his, that is true."

"Mm-hmm, this is . . . this is our house," Luther insisted—admittedly unconfidently.

"Thi-this is ou-our house," mocked the man who looked like he was made of melted rubber. The childish action, to your surprise, garnered some chuckles from the sulky woman and the one with the sunglasses.

"In all fairness, I think we would have known if we were growing up with another eight people," the short brunette woman reasoned in a gentle tone—which was very appreciated given her teammates. The lanky, tan man beside her nodded while trying to avoid eye contact.

Before anyone could try to further explain, Luther cheerfully stuck his hand out towards her, as if in a daze. "My name's Luther, hi." The smile on his face was brighter than any light that could have been on in his metaphorical attic.