#diegoxlila | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lochrannn · 4 years ago

Text

all rest my powers defy

Warnings: mild sexual content, swearing

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Lila/Diego

Blurb: Things are a bit awkward between Lila and Diego atm.

Lila-centric

4000+ Words

The date is the second of April 2019, it is 8:34 in the evening and Lila is sitting at the bar lining the back wall of the Hargreeves mansion's lavish sitting room, sipping on a drink she can't remember the name of and is not really enjoying, but it's at least something to take her mind off of the fact that she is entirely lost as to what to do with herself now.

A fortnight ago, on the 12th of July 1974, while playing boules with a group of older women on the seafront in a small Southern English coastal town she had taken a day trip to, Lila decided that maybe she should give Diego's grand invitation to be part of his family some actual consideration, or at least stop trying as hard as she could not to think about it. In hindsight, she thought, it may have been a slightly exaggerated speech on his part, though she could forgive him for that, seeing as he had been trying to talk her down from murdering his brother, but even if he hadn't been quite sincere, surely he would be assuming that she might turn up for a chat at some point, right? And it came to her then, while idly lobbing a heavy ball, easily hitting her target and savoring the pleasing thunk sound the ball made when it embedded itself in the sand, that she should probably go see him about that.

Lila had taken the briefcase and run and it had taken her two weeks to slow down enough to fully catch up with her own thoughts. She had hopped aimlessly through all of time and space – now slightly regretting having gone to all of these great historic places without being in any kind of state to actually take much in or appreciate what a unique perspective she was gaining, what a waste – only to end up in London in 1974. She hadn't quite known why she had stopped running in this time and place but she had had a sneaking suspicion that subconsciously she had wanted to find her parents but was too scared to look for them closer to the time she would have been born, or the time of their murder four years later. She hadn't thought she could actually face finding them when they resembled the two people she could just about remember lying face down in their own blood in the living room the day the Handler had found stolen her. So she had simply blagged her way into a room in a small B&B and had spent her time idly walking around the city during the day and drinking a few too many pints in a different pub each night, all the while sabotaging her efforts to actually look into her parents' whereabouts. On the 12th of July, another two weeks after she had stopped running, she had woken up with a slight hangover, taken the tube to Victoria station and had got on the first train that would take her to the seaside. On that train ride she had admitted to herself that she wasn't ready to see her parents, wasn't sure she would ever be, but that she certainly didn't feel like going on the way she had for the past month. So she had made a pact with herself that by the time she got back on the train to London she would have a plan of what to do. She was twenty-nine and had only ever lived according to her mother's the Handler's plans. She had been thrilled at and equally scared of the prospect of having to make her own decisions.

The next morning after her seaside outing she took a long bath, packed her few belongings in the canvas rucksack she had bought at a charity shop, and pulled the black leather briefcase out from the back of her cupboard. She left her spare pound notes – all stolen – on the unmade bed for the landlady. She knew it wouldn't cover what the room would have cost her, but she figured it was the best she could do in the moment and felt a bit of guilt at the realisation that this was one of the first times in her adult life that she had thought to do something decent for another person she wasn't trying to gain something from. And what a meager bit of decency it was.

Her first stop was the commission. She really didn't want to go back to that place but she also knew that she had no hope in hell of finding Diego without the help of someone there. Lila doubted the Hargreeves would still be in Dallas in the 60s and beyond that she had no clue of where else to look for them. She knew they had arrived in the 60s from 2019 but she was honestly uncertain whether there was any 2019 left after the 1st of April. So she really hoped she could either convince Herb of giving her some assistance – he had seemed oddly touched by her feelings for Diego – or if not, simply threaten him until he gave up Diego's where- and whenabouts.

When she got to the commission Herb was apparently expecting her and was only too happy to help. She couldn't decide whether she should kiss the little gerbil man on his head or tell him to stop being so creepy, but in the end she grumbled her thanks for the information, punched the coordinates into the briefcase's dial, and happily vanished into blue static, hoping not to have to come back to this place any time soon.

After that, things were a bit of a blur. If asked, she thinks she can barely piece together what happened. In fact, knowing what she does now about Five's ability to rewind time, she's not certain he might not have done so a few times over the past two weeks, so little of what happened makes any kind of temporal sense otherwise, all she remembers is a not-dead Reginald Hargreeves, an alternative set of powered, dysfunctional, and slightly evil Harvgreeves siblings, and a lot of fighting. In the end they averted another apocalypse – these people truly were catastrophe magnets –, restored the original Hargreeves siblings' original timeline, managed to avert the apocalypse there/then as well and lived to see the 2nd of April 2019. Though she begrudgingly has to admit that Five had been a genius at strategising their way out of the mess they had made and for once his siblings had rallied behind him and kept in line, she herself had played an integral role, which is why, she suspects, they have been out of harms way for almost two hours now and haven't turned on her yet.

So now here Lila is, with six Hargreeves siblings strewn across the sitting room's furniture, shooting the shit like they haven't just dragged themselves out of hell. Lila's drinking a cocktail Allison mixed for her a few minutes ago, she's a little off to the side and internally freaking out about what to do next. While they were running and fighting for their lives she had seamlessly integrated herself into their merry little group, she is nothing if not uncannily adaptable, but here, in this quiet moment, she suddenly realises that at no point have they discussed what her place was amongst them. And then, of course, there is Diego.

Her gaze flits over to the armchair he's sitting in with his filthy boots propped up on an expensive looking ottoman. She thinks he's doing that deliberately. She only glances at him quickly before letting her eyes drop back down again. Lila's been doing that a lot these past few weeks, looking at him when he wasn't looking at her, generally keeping out of his way when she could help it. When they did interact, Diego was nothing if not courteous and pleasant towards her, less warm than he was with his siblings, but he didn't treat her like an enemy or a stranger, and Lila found that this side of him that she had never experienced before, was something she really didn't know what to do with. It threw her so much that she didn't really know how to behave towards him. While locked up in the asylum Diego had oscillated wildly between being aggressive towards the orderlies and being exasperated and annoyed with Lila but just as often flirting with her, and now she suspected some of that behaviour may have been down to the drugs, because she hardly recognised this calm, almost calculating version of him. If anything, he reminded her most of when he had told her outside the Mexican embassy in Dallas that he agreed with Five's suspicion of her, and that made something in her stomach twist. At some point when she had more than two minutes to think about anything other than trying not to get herself killed, she realised in horror that an outside observer might have described her as being shy around Diego.

Thinking of that makes her snort into her drink and Lila can feel some of the Hargreeves looking at her but only for a moment, as she shows no further sign of saying anything or even looking at them. When she is certain she's no longer being observed Lila looks back at where Diego is currently plucking mint leaves from the stalk sticking out of his glass, rolling them up, and flicking them at the back of Luther's head when he is turned away, hitting the exact same spot every single time. Luther doesn't seem to notice as he is paying attention to whatever Five is currently going on about. Lila has made her peace with the realisation that she doesn't blame Five for her parents' death, she knows she would have done the same in his position and it could have been anybody, the true villain in this story was her mother the Handler. Nevertheless, she thinks Five is a patronising, pompous little shit, so she can't really be arsed to listen to whatever has him riled now. Luther absentmindedly swats at the back of his head and a look of irritation passes over his face. Again she snorts into her drink – she thinks she might be getting tipsy, this shouldn't keep happening – and this time only one Hargreeves looks over at her, but this one makes her cheeks heat up. Diego catches Lila's eye with an unreadable expression and she's too surprised to look away, so he holds her gaze for a long moment before he turns back to irritating his brother. What the fuck is she supposed to do with that?

During her musings Lila zones out for a bit, seems to be losing track of time, because the next time she looks up it's only Vanya, Klaus and Allison sitting around the table all holding mostly empty drink glasses and chatting lightly. Vanya giggles at something Klaus is saying and when Allison sees Lila looking, she gets up and walks over to her.

“We're all about to head to bed, do you want me to find you some fresh pyjamas?” Allison asks her gently.

The two of them have been getting on weirdly well. Lila thinks she might have to apologise at some point for almost suffocating the other woman, but so far Allison's easygoing manner towards her has made Lila feel awkward about bringing it up. How do you say 'Sorry for really wanting you dead there a few months back,' when someone is casually offering you sleepwear?

“Nah, I'm ok,” Lila replies, wincing inwardly when she sees Allison slightly wrinkle her nose. This also keeps happening with the Hargreeves, she constantly feels like she says or does the wrong thing. At least where the small things are concerned. Lila can't work out if she is somehow weird – she might be, after all she was raised by a psychopath outside of linear time –, or if the siblings are overly judgmental, or if they are still a bit miffed at the whole her trying to murder them all thing. If it's the latter, Lila thinks, she can't really blame them.

“Uhm... where do I...?”

“Oh, just head upstairs,” Allison interrupts her half-formed question, “there's forty-two bedrooms in this place and all of ours are downstairs, so you can just pick any room you like the look of!”

Lila mumbles her thanks and goodnights to the three siblings still in the room and heads out to the cavernous foyer with its imposing staircase and gallery. She picks up her rucksack before starting her ascent. Five had commandeered her briefcase the minute they decided to keep her around during their alternate timeline escapades and so far she hadn't really bothered to find out where he was keeping it. Though depending on how the next few days are going to go, she maybe should ascertain its whereabouts, just in case.

All the hallways look much the same, with tasteful if boring decoration and very poor lighting. Lila wanders down one on the second floor and has just passed a bathroom with gold fixtures that she could spot through the half-open door when she hears the very familiar whoosh-thunk sound of a knife being thrown and embedding itself in something, coming from the room immediately up ahead.

Lila stops short.

She takes a deep breath, suppresses the urge to slap her cheeks to hype herself up, and continues walking.

For fuck's sake, it's not like she went looking for him, also what if she had? He hasn't told her not to talk to him and it's certainly not that she's nervous about talking to him, fuck no...

Lila's thoughts spiral so quickly that when the room and its occupant actually come into view her internal monologue screeches to a halt.

The bedroom seems to be some kind of master bedroom with a large bed at the centre, beautifully made up with a flowery spread and throw pillows, a small desk, and a comfortable looking armchair over by the window – all of it deeply impersonal. A guest room, then.

And there is Diego sitting on the bed, back resting against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. His feet are bare, boots lying haphazardly kicked off by the armchair, which is, in turn, occupied by Diego's jacket. The man himself is currently only wearing his black tank top and trousers and his harness is strewn across his knees. He's holding a knife in his hand and Lila is sure that if she turned to look at the wall opposite him, she would find more knives already embedded in the wood panelling.

But Lila doesn't turn to look at the wall because she can't tear her eyes away from Diego. She realises with a start that this is the first time she's been alone in his presence since... well since Elliott's and all of a sudden she is overwhelmed with how much she missed – misses – him.

Diego acknowledges her with one of those infuriatingly cool looks he's been giving her and then goes back to aiming and chucking the knife at the wall.

Lila doesn't flinch, instead she crosses her arms and casually leans against the doorframe.

“I thought the children sleep downstairs,” she quips. That at least earns her his attention again.

Diego doesn't immediately answer, Lila thinks he might be torn between rising to her bait and simply ignoring her. Finally, he says in a neutral tone “If I have to stay in this godforsaken house in the first place, I'm definitely not staying in one of those monk's cells Dad kept us in.”

There's an uncomfortable pause and Lila hates it. The one thing Diego and herself could always manage was to endlessly talk at each other, even if it was just lobbing insults back and forth. She's increasingly certain he's doing this whole cold shoulder nonsense to punish her or something. Anger flares up within her. Looking at Diego sitting there with his stupid handsome face, and his stupid muscled shoulders and arms on display, and his stupid brown eyes that look exactly as warm and open as they always had when he was talking to her back at the asylum and back at Elliott's, Lila is infuriated that she can't go over to him and kiss him silly, because he won't come out and properly talk to her. A slightly mean voice in the back of her head reminds her that what he has to say to Lila might be that he wants nothing more to do with her other than as someone who fights for his family, but her train of thought is interrupted when she sees something passing over Diego's face. He's getting impatient at her silence too.

“Why are you here, Lila?”

“It's almost midnight, we've been through a bit of a kerfuffle, I was looking for somewhere to sleep. Is that allowed?”

His face twists in annoyance at her retort and Lila thinks to herself that at least that's a change from the constant neutrality he's been weaponising against her before.

“There are forty-two bedrooms in this place, why have you come to the one I'm in?”

That question makes Lila feel oddly embarrassed and the feeling makes her lash out, “Don't flatter yourself! I was wandering down a random hallway when I heard your stupid knife-throwing. I think I'm allowed to make sure we're not being attacked without being accused of looking for you specifically!”

“Oh no, you certainly can't be accused of that, Lila!” Diego scoffs with a bitter undertone.

She was going to hurl something else at him, but that stops Lila in her tracks, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You've been avoiding me,” he says flatly.

What the fuck? “What the fuck?” Lila almost shouts. “If anything, you've been avoiding me!” She throws her hands up in exasperation.

The look Diego gives her is a curious one. This is the first time they haven't been painfully polite to each other. The fight leaves Lila as quickly as it came over her. She huffs out a breath and makes up her mind.

She lets the rucksack slide down her shoulders, kicks off her red boots – she loosened the laces earlier when she had hopped up onto the barstool – and walks over to the bed. Diego tracks her movements but says nothing and makes no move of his own other than to gently shove the knife harness off the bed – whether for her safety or his, she's not quite sure – so she rolls onto the bed next to him. She tries to pull it off as elegantly as possible even though she knows the position she ends up in is significantly less so. Making sure to keep just enough distance that she isn't touching him, she kicks her legs up along the headboard and wall and ends up with her back pressed into the mattress and her head somewhere by Diego's knees. When she looks back at his face she can see by the tension in his cheeks and the quirk of his lips that he's suppressing a grin.

Lila gives herself half a moment to study Diego's face. His goatee is neatly trimmed and his hair is a lot shorter, buzzed at the sides and almost flopping on top, it's a deliberate style choice that she somehow doesn't think was Diego's own and she makes a mental note to ask him about that. She is struck again by the fact that she thinks he looks beautiful. She's never thought of anyone looking beautiful before but at some point during their time together in Dallas she realised that this slightly brutish man had become beautiful to her. She is too afraid to examine right now what that is supposed to mean.

Instead she turns and pokes him hard in the thigh with her finger. “Why would I be avoiding you?” she asks with what she hopes isn't a pout.

Diego huffs out some air and quietly replies “I don't know.”

“Jesus fuck, Diego, I came looking for you, didn't I? I've stuck around with your stupid apocalypse mission! Fuck, I've mostly played nice with the murderer of my parents for the last two weeks, what could possibly make you think I was avoiding you?” Lila looks up at him with exasperation and sees the guilt flash across his face at the mention of her parents.

“I –“ he begins but when he can't get past the first word, he stops. And she suspects he does that so he doesn't end up stammering. She remembers him talking about that in group therapy at Holbrook, when, to Lila's horror, Diego would use his real feelings and trauma to try and soften Moncton to his cause. The thought of being that honest and open had genuinely caused cold fear to pool in the pit of Lila's stomach. Lying here in the bed next to Diego, though, with no one else around, she's reminded of the time she was lying on top of Elliott's fold out couch and had, for the very first time in her adult life, been honest and unguarded with anyone who wasn't her mother the Handler. She's encouraged by the thought that she's managed it before, so maybe she can do it again.

Lila waits to see if Diego will go on. She knows he hated being talked over as a kid and wants to give him a chance if he has more to say. But he just slowly blinks and then looks down at his hands.

On a whim Lila lifts her leg closest to him off the wall, swings it around and lets it fall diagonally across his chest, hitting him hard enough with her calf to make him huff out some air in surprise. Diego looks back at her face and she can see the beginnings of a smile. This is familiar. This is reminiscent of her antics at the asylum. It makes things just a little more normal and comfortable between them.

Diego grabs her ankle and she starts to roll her eyes at him but is interrupted by her breath leaving her in a gasp when she suddenly feels his lips brush against the sensitive, exposed skin between the top of her sock and the bottom of her trousers that have fallen up her leg a little.

She looks up at him almost in shock, her heart in her throat, and her expression must give him pause because he looks back at her like a deer caught in the headlights, his hand and lips still touching her ankle.

Lila sits up very suddenly, almost surprising herself, and Diego lets her foot drop to the side, her leg now thrown across his lap. They are in each other's space, staring, neither of them quite sure of what to do next. Diego's gaze ever so quickly drops to her mouth before coming back to stare wide eyed back at her. That ends any self control Lila has left. Fuck it, she thinks. “Fuck it!” she repeats out loud.

In one quick motion she lifts herself up onto his lap and wraps her arms around his neck. And before she can cover his mouth with hers, she can already feel his hands on her waist and Diego surges forward into a crushing kiss.

All the tension leaves Lila's body and she melts into him. Both of them wrap their arms tighter around the other, trying somehow to make the edges of their bodies give way so they can occupy the same space. Every nerve ending in her body is on fire and Lila wants to feel more of him. She pulls away very slightly to try and pry his tank top off him, but he has apparently had the same thought and gets to the hem of her jumper more quickly and pulls it up, off over her head, making her squeak. How undignified. When the piece of clothing is gone and she can look back at him, though, his pupils are blown with want and glassy with emotion and before she can take his top off she has to kiss him again, because it almost hurts too much to look at him, and she wants to kiss him anyway.

They continue like this. Trying to get the other naked as quickly as possible but getting interrupted by wanting to touch and kiss and bite and squeeze. When Lila finally sinks down onto him with a sigh and a strangled groan from Diego, she distantly remembers that the door to the room is still open. Bizarrely she is reminded that this wouldn't be the first time they're having sex when anyone could come wandering by and that makes her chuckle. The vibration of her laugh travels straight through her and Diego and makes him gasp when he asks her “What?”

“Nothing,” she replies and starts moving.

She'll tell him later. She'll tell him all of her thoughts later, and she really hopes he'll tell her his.

#fanfic #tua #lila pitts #diego hargreeves #the umbrella academy #dielila #diegoxlila #diego/lila

4 notes · View notes