The Sparks Between Us | Five Hargreeves x Reader

TWENTY-ONE

—————༻☂︎︎༺—————
༻ Y/N'S POV ༺

"Harold Jenkins?" Allison repeated, reading the name from the paper while the rest of the family crowded around to examine it. Confusion and tension filled the room.

"Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?" Diego asked, his tone sharp and suspicious.

Five, as calm and unfazed as ever, chugged the last of Allison's coffee and carelessly tossed the cup behind him. "We don't know... yet," he said curtly, his eyes scanning the group. "But what we do know is that he's responsible for the apocalypse."

While the others digested this information, I felt my internal systems flare to life. A faint vibration rippled through my core, an alert. An unregistered presence was detected. The family's focus remained on Five, but my processors were already hard at work. We were all accounted for—myself, Five, Klaus, Diego, Luther, and Allison—all gathered in the main room.

So who else was here?

I tilted my head slightly, my auditory sensors isolating a sound. Faint creaks. Soft, deliberate footsteps. Movement from the second floor. My sensors locked in on the source, calculating the weight and pace of the steps. Human.

Without a word, I stepped back from the group. They didn't notice as I slipped away, my exit silent and precise. I ascended the staircase, each step measured. The sounds grew clearer—faint shuffling, the subtle rustle of fabric. As I turned the corner, I pressed my back against the wall, pausing to listen.

There it was. Breathing. Shallow, steady, and human.

I stepped forward, peeking around the corner. Standing there, hunched over and preoccupied with something in his hands, was Leonard Peabody.

His back was to me, and he was so engrossed in whatever he was holding that he didn't sense my approach. I analyzed his posture, his movements. Whatever he was doing, it was deliberate.

"Hello, Leonard," I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion.

He startled violently, spinning around to face me. His hands moved quickly, hiding whatever he was holding behind his back. His face broke into a sheepish grin, but his laugh was nervous and hollow. "Jesus! Wow, you really know how to make someone jump, Y/N," he said, his tone overly casual.

I didn't react. I simply stared at him, my expression unreadable. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice sharp and measured.

Leonard glanced around, his eyes darting like a cornered animal. "What am I doing here? I could ask you the same thing," he said, laughing awkwardly. "You gave me a fright."

I didn't respond to his attempt at deflection. "Where's Vanya?" I asked, cutting straight to the point.

"Vanya? Oh, yeah. She's just waiting for me out front," Leonard said quickly. His words tumbled out in a rushed string, his voice slightly too high. "I just... forgot my jacket. Left it here earlier." He held up a jacket, waving it like a white flag of innocence.

I narrowed my eyes, scanning him. Every movement, every microexpression was logged and analyzed. "Interesting," I said, my tone as neutral as my expression.

Leonard shifted under my gaze, his discomfort evident. His eyes flicked to my exposed arm, where wires protruded from the gash left by my creators. "Ouch. That looks... rough," he said, gesturing toward it. "What happened? How'd you get that?"

I glanced down at the exposed wires, then back at him. "A failed incident," I replied. "Nothing I can't manage."

Leonard tilted his head, his smile returning but not reaching his eyes. "You know, I know a thing or two about fixing wires. Why don't you let me take a look?" he said, stepping closer and reaching for my arm.