definitely maybe i will live to love || Five x Reader/OC ||

i should be better off without you

We're Through

"Well, what do we have here? Two schoolchildren skipping class? How very naughty."

The woman stands stark in her fashionable black outfit against the frozen, saturated world around you. She holds a bulky black briefcase in one hand, and the other lifts the birdcage veil over her fascinator. Her lips are painted red, and they pull back into a vulpine grin when she looks at you over the rim of her black sunglasses.

This woman has dressed for an occasion, dressed to kill. You respect that.

Even if you don't respect anything else.

She takes her sunglasses off and regards the two of you with beautiful, cold eyes.

"Hello, Five. You look good, all things considered."

"It's good to see you again," he says, making it clear he means the opposite.

The Handler's grin doesn't change. "Feels like we met just yesterday." Her voice comes out smooth and light. "Course, you were a little bit older then. Congratulations on the age regression, by the way. Very clever. Threw us all off the scent."

"Ah, well, I wish I could take credit. I just miscalculated the time dilation projections, and...well, you know. Here I am." Five splays his arms out for a brief second.

Her eyes move to you. "At least you aren't the odd one out, I suppose. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Eight."

You don't say anything back. The Handler's grin widens. "And I see you're still alive, Cha-Cha," she says, moving on to the assassin. "What a nice surprise. Although, I am somewhat disappointed in your...abilities to handle both the situation and your rogue partner."

The tone in the Handler's voice makes you rile, even though Cha-Cha has done nothing but try to kill you and your family. It's not her fault her own agency sent her completely blind into a situation.

Cha-Cha doesn't shrink away from the comment. She stands and takes it. The Handler sees that she won't be able to play with her emotions like she wants, so she focuses back on Five.

"Have you finally realized that your efforts are futile? That what's meant to be is meant to be?"

"Something like that," Five replies, hands dipping into his pockets. "I'm tired. My family is tired. We can't run forever. So, we've come to make a deal."

"Oh, well, then, I'm all ears." The Handler waves a hand. The glint of her red nail polish moves vibrantly through the stasis.

"You stop hunting down our family. I come to work for the Commission in exchange for their safety. Eight will come, too, as a sort of consenting ransom."

Her gaze roves back to you. It holds a hunger to it, faint but present.

The Handler isn't aware that you all know how Vanya causes the apocalypse. Their safety will never be guaranteed, and the Commission still intends to make sure everyone blows up with the rest of the world. But, technically, being safe from the Commission isn't the same as being safe from Vanya. It's a doable enough deal: the false security to get their best assassins back, gain another super-powered agent, cover up this botched mission to save face, and still ensure the apocalypse.

You can see the Handler reach the same conclusion in her bright blue eyes ringed with immaculate eyeliner and shadow.

"And what about the briefcase?" the Handler inquires airily. "Hazel? These things cannot be brushed past."