WHAT: Celebrating not being turned into children WHERE: Mimi's Apartment WHEN: At the start of the age plot WARNINGS: References to abuse, alcohol and drugs, etc... STATUS:Complete!
Klaus couldn't choose between whiskey or rum, so he solved the problem by taking both bottles with him as he climbed the stairs to Melissa's apartment, one floor above his. This nonsense with people suddenly growing younger or older was disturbing. Being invited to some kid's party and then feeling guilty for saying no? Even worse. And the Alexis news was a mindfuck he couldn't even begin to process, especially while sober.
His fortunes appeared ready to change, however, and that was one thing making this horrific day bearable. Someone else understood the terribleness of it all. Even if she insisted on drinking responsibly. Klaus had been responsible for months now and he was tired of it and if he wanted to be irresponsible on his own there were plenty of bars around. But since they were staying close to home, maybe they could both engage in a bit of recklessness.
Responsible recklessness.
He knocked on the door and waited, a bottle in each hand.
Melissa was used to weird and sudden world-shifting events, things that often took a week or two to settle back to normal before the next range of fucked up. She had recently come up against a team from the future comprised of her and her teammates’ children. She had dealt with a toddler that sent them all to the North Pole. And then she got sent here, a whole other parallel universe which was weird in itself mostly due to the lack of any cackling villain for her to scream at, but overall Vallo had felt relatively stable in comparison to her own world.
Until now. Except at least there was no alien invasion on top of it, no looming sense of danger. Just weird. And potentially awkward when it was all over. Which meant whatever was going on probably wasn’t anything she needed to interfere with. Somebody else could wrangle all the stray children. She felt glad nothing like that had happened to her, because her childhood really wasn’t anything she was eager to revisit. And especially not publicly, in front of a bunch of strangers. Yuck.
She’d usually prefer to go out where playing loud music wouldn’t be considered rude to her neighbors and there was plenty of dancing to get lost in, but how the night was going, staying in seemed the better option. And meant she didn’t really need to go out of her way to dress up too much. Telling Klaus about her kermit the frog wrestling getup at least lowered the bar a bit.
“You drinking it straight or you want some mixers to make it last?” she grinned in greeting, giving Klaus’ feet a pointed look to make sure he’d remove his shoes. She wasn’t exactly into cleaning, so preventing things from getting too dirty in the first place was more her speed. “I got coke and orange juice.”
"This bottle straight then we can slow it down with coke on the next." He held one of the bottles up, not even sure which one it was but whiskey and rum both mixed well with coke. It would be fine. Absolutely fine. He hadn't really gotten properly drunk since he'd shown up here, but it was like riding a bicycle. Drunkenly. Once he started it would all come back.
It wasn't even the aging thing that bothered him, specifically. It was how weird this place was and how responsible he was becoming and this was just the latest weird thing that broke the proverbial camel's back and he wanted to forget everything for at least a night and thought that was extremely valid, regardless of what his family may have thought. Or people he barely knew or didn't know.
He was just grateful for company who got it.
"I'm glad you didn't turn into a six year old," he mentioned, kicking off his shoes and moving to a counter to get a bottle open.
“You and me both, they’re weird little gremlins,” she laughed and refrained from bringing up that she saw his sister had picked one of them up. She didn’t necessarily dislike children, but… well, after Hallie died, it was just too weird wanting to get attached. She lived too dangerous a lifestyle, and all the underaged heroes running around these days was bound to end in disaster. But Melissa really didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to think about all the potential fallout something like this would cause.
“I couldn’t hold my liquor quite as well at that age.” She pulled out a bag of corn chips and some nacho cheese, shrugged a bit in not quite an apology, because it was all she really had on such short notice. She’d get out a bowl for both, but honestly didn’t feel like washing dishes if she woke up with a hangover. But two bottles between them really wasn’t all that excessive. She was glad he hadn’t gone overboard, and absolutely wasn’t going to mention the alcohol in her own cabinet in case their judgment went to shit over the course of the night.
Melissa started up her playlist, admittedly sorta awful dance music, and felt old and far too past her prime when she didn’t crank it up like she would’ve back in the day. Because she wanted to not get kicked out of the apartment building. “You good taking the couch tonight, instead of passing out in the hallways? Because I’m not going to be in much of a position to make sure you get back to your room,” she started to lay out some of the ground rules, knew it was best to make them while sober. “And before we start, I need the name of which one of your siblings I’m contacting in case of an emergency.”
Which fine, it was a buzzkill, but at least before the actual buzz.
"13, drinking and otherwise," Klaus replied. "It was of considerable help." He glanced at the couch and then back at Melissa. "Really?" he asked. It would have been Allison, but Allison now had one of the aforementioned gremlins, and even if she hadn't he didn't want to chance interrupting her and Dan in the midst of a romantic encounter. Ben was invisible and Vanya would probably show up but that seemed like starting unnecessary trouble.
"Diego," he sighed. Even in his mind, he could picture his brother's face if he were called to such an occurrence. The only one of his siblings who seemed to understand the drinking was Ben, and even today Klaus had been sort of a dick when he told his brother not to wait up. But he deserved it, didn't he? A night free of responsibility. Well mostly. He was drinking responsibly.
"You're apparently well versed in this?" he asked, wanting to drink and lose himself in the music, but unable to fight off the nagging curiosity. The park must have been something.
“Eleven, and I had to make ends meet somehow,” and that was about all she was going to say on that subject, opening up the jar of cheese and sliding it across the counter. She nodded her head toward the microwave, figuring he’d get the idea. “Mmn,” Melissa crunched thoughtfully on a chip for a moment, then licked the salt off her fingers. “I just learned if you’re going to let go, make sure you know where you’re landing. People get sick of cleaning up after your…” she shoved another chip in her mouth and used her free hands to mimic a fall and a splat. Then shrugged.
But really, this was getting more serious than she wanted in the moment. So she reached across the counter, shoved a chip in Klaus’ mouth, patted him on the cheek, and poured herself a drink.
“To not being a child,” she held up her glass in a toast, smiled, and downed it in one shot so she could shut up about the boring stuff.
Klaus did as indicated, because nachos and cheese sounded delicious, crunching on the chip Melissa had given him while taking the bottle to pour his own glass, though he didn't drink so readily. It wasn't often that he met someone who had started drinking younger than him, at least, not outside of rehab. It didn't seem that she was interested in talking about that though, and he couldn't really blame her. Childhood trauma was poor conversation on a night when they were drowning out the sudden returning childhoods of various other people.
But not their own.
"To not being a child," he echoed, following suit in drinking the entire glass down so he could refill it. And hers, while he was at it.
Then he popped the cheese out of the microwave and stole a chip from the bag. There was music, alcohol, food, and good company even if Klaus hardly knew Mimi. He'd taken to her instantly though, something he hadn't really questioned, just enjoyed.
He reached for the bag of chips again, tucking it under his arm, while balancing his drink in one hand and the hot jar of cheese in the other. "Bring the bottle?" he asked, making himself right at home and moving into the living room.
Mimi winked as Klaus refilled her glass so graciously, though she wasn’t in as much of a rush to down her second. Not before she ate more, but Klaus was off to the living room and taking the cheese with him. So she grabbed the bottle by the neck, and followed to the couch while swaying a bit to the beat.
She didn’t quite feel like sitting down yet, but placed the bottle on the coffee table, not too close to the edge because… well, that’d make this evening very unfortunate. The music was going, and she was hardly shy. And she danced in clubs often enough to have not spilling her drink all over herself down to an art, laughing slightly as she danced her way over to Klaus to dig her hand into the chip bag.
“Meet anyone new and interesting lately?” she asked, unable to keep up with all the newcomers. But there did seem to be a fun variety of them.
"Honestly, the most interesting person I've talked to lately is the child version of Ava," Klaus admitted, though he also found himself intrigued by Tim, but somehow mentioning someone who understood PTSD seemed like a surefire way to bring the mood down. "I had to arrange for her tea party to be held tomorrow so I didn't have a scheduling conflict."
He laughed, setting everything but his own glass down and then wandering over to Melissa. He also wasn't shy, and didn't need large amounts of alcohol to dance, just some music. Someone else there with him was a bonus.
"How about yourself? Blow through all your money yet?"
“Oh my god, you’re shameless,” she laughed into a sip of her drink, shaking her head in almost disbelief. But she couldn’t say she was all that surprised either. “Schedule conflicts with a child. Of course you would,” she draped an arm over Klaus’ shoulder, he didn’t seem to mind the familiarity and she maybe needed a little bit of help maintaining her balance after draining her second glass over the course of the song.
She was going through this a bit more quickly than she planned, and feeling the warmth of the buzz, she figured she could take a break for a moment instead of going right for another refill. Plus dancing was plenty of fun, and she enjoyed Klaus’ style. Most guys she met were so awkward with dancing, either refusing to do more but sway back and forth a little or use it as excuse to dry hump in the middle of a club. Or those awful breakdancers that decided to take up the entire floor to show off.
“Nah, not yet,” Mimi sighed a bit dramatically, “Have to keep doing the grocery shopping.” And she was obviously stuck here more longterm than she initially thought. “Party’s going to be over eventually, and then the whole job thing.” She’d discussed it a bit with a few other people, but didn’t really have much of a lead on what she actually wanted to do.
"Guilty as charged," Klaus responded easily, grinning as Mimi threw an arm around his shoulder and turning in toward her, slipping his own arm around her waist as he continued dancing. This was easy and carefree and the conversation light, exactly what he needed.
"You could come work with me," he pointed out. "The discount's nice, the company would be nicer."
Mimi knew the buzz had her good when it took a moment to remember what it was that Klaus even did, and then she laughed. “That’s so… normal,” though she certainly didn’t think of Klaus as anything close to normal. Maybe that’s why he did it. “I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not,” she pondered, every single turn in her life was some weird extreme or another.
“The only time I tried anything normal, I went to college.” And that ended… right back where she started. It was a sign that her old acquaintances were never going to let her go. But none of them were here now, nobody to call her up, trick her into some scheme or another. “Maybe,” she considered. “Remind me again when I’m actually sober.” Because money didn’t make itself, and maybe she did need something completely different and low-stakes.
"First job I've ever had," Klaus agreed, letting the song finish before he went to refill both of their glasses because he wasn't breaking his no drinking streak for a couple of drinks. Even if they were drinking straight up liquor or maybe especially since they were drinking straight up liquor. Who could tell? He'd brought two bottles and was intent on finishing them, especially since he was doing so responsibly.
He even had an emergency contact.
"So tell me about the abnormal life you led," Klaus said curiously. "Whatever parts you want to tell, that is." For her to have started drinking at eleven, there had to have been some stories that probably weren't on her list of things to share over drinks and dancing with a relative stranger.
“Trying to come up with one that doesn’t end with the whole ‘and then to no surprise of anyone involved, we all backstabbed each other’ bit,” Mimi laughed, because that was basically the inevitable conclusion of most parts of her life. “Or anything involving Karla,” because the mind games and bullying of the psychiatrist got pretty dark pretty quickly, especially after the death of her estranged mother.
“How about the time I woke up to some pervo sucking on my toes?”
Klaus didn't know who Karla was, so he was naturally curious as to why she was off limits. But because she was off limits he didn't ask.
Besides, he was easily distracted by the next bit. "You didn't know them?" he asked, raising a brow.
“A bit of an obsessive fan of mine, back from my wrestling days. Wanted to help me relive my former glory,” she took a large drink at the memory of the beach vacation gone so very wrong, being knocked out and waking up strapped down to an operating table. “Woke up surrounded by weird mutated fish people because the dude was a real piece of work. Had to sport a buzzcut after that unelective surgery.” People had thought she’d gotten the haircut to be trendy or edgy, but growing it all back out had been a long and tedious process.
Mimi pushed her fingers through her hair, parting it along the side of her skull to reveal a long scar underneath. “Neat, huh?”
Well, that was horrifying. Klaus stared at Mimi in disbelief, even as he saw the physical evidence of that particular tale. It was all he could do not to trace his fingers down the scar itself, which would have been a bit rude and not to mention, odd.
"Do you have any stories that are… happier?" he asked. "By any chance."
She smiled brightly in response, because no, she really didn’t. “For a period of time, my action figures were top sellers? I used the profits to start a charity.” But anymore of that story would go right back into horrifying territory. “Oh! One time my longtime friend and mentor, Clint. He’s a real interesting character, grew up as a carnie. Forcibly took over our team to keep us from going to prison. Again.” Mimi took a break from the dancing, deciding to drape herself over the couch instead. All this talking, she played with the settings on her phone to turn the volume down a bit.
“Anyway. We had this guy, an intel leaker that called himself the Whisperer. This organization, SHIELD, it was after him for revealing that they were up to some really shady brainwashing experiments involving some of my former… associates.” She dipped a chip into the cheese jar, gave an annoyed huff as it crumbled apart. “At the time I was an undercover agent for them. Double agent? Anyway, for the sake of the mission, we caught this guy. Except Clint decides at that moment to switch sides like the impulsive well-meaning idiot he is. Because he thought that I wasn’t working for them.”
She tried using her fingers to scoop out the broken chip, gave up. “And he was right. I wasn’t, really. But I had to maintain the cover that I was or else my real boss would be exposed and I’d lose my inside access. So I blasted him the fuck out while a giant kaiju painted with an American flag fought a mecha in the distance.”
Mimi licked the cheese free from her fingers, looked up at Klaus with a shrug. “It was fine because I didn’t really betray him. He just thought I had. Good guy, Clint.”
There was a back and forth of trying to follow this story that would have been easier if Klaus was more sober. Like trying to follow what side was the good side or which side Mimi was really on, what SHIELD was and whether they were good or bad. He was fairly certain whatever conclusion he came to, it would be the exact opposite.
But her happier story involved blasting some dude and the fact that she didn't actually betray him? Klaus just stared at Mimi, and sipped at his drink, considering her.
"Right so storytime is over," he declared. "You have room for me over there?"
She pulled a bit of a pseudo-offended expression that Klaus apparently didn’t like her thrilling adventures, but snorted in response and moved her legs a bit to make more room on the couch. “Yeah, yeah. But that’s why I gotta get my kicks in while I can,” she offered with a non-apologetic shrug. “Everyone thinks the whole hero business is just punching a bunch of villains in front of a cheering crowd. Like wrestling.” She pushed the cheese over his way, not wanting to look like she was hoarding it.
“But everyone thinks they’re doing the right thing. Start getting it all twisted. They all end up fighting each other more than doing the world any good.” Mimi rolled her eyes, went to take another drink and was slightly surprised she had already finished it. “Oops.”
Klaus poured the remainder of the bottle out into Mimi's glass, before he took a seat opposite her on the couch. "I know what you mean," he agreed wearily. "Go to save the world, end up destroying everything…"
But this wasn't a day to talk about the world ending or how missions could get people killed. This world still existed, and Ben was here and able to communicate at least, with everyone. And Klaus could still see him, except right now he couldn't. Oops.
"So wrestling dressed like Kermit the frog, huh?"
She raised her glass in mock-cheers for the refill, putting her feet right back where they were after Klaus sat down, figuring he’d shove them off if he didn’t appreciate it. “To be fair,” she emphasized, although her words had taken on a slight slur. “It wasn’t on purpose. Or my pick. I was a considerable bit smaller than the other girls in the ring, so the selection was slim pickings. But you know, I was easy for them to throw around.”
Except the whole thing was mostly a front for the criminal activity they got up to after, and had all fallen apart after the deaths of Titania and Letha. But she drank instead of mentioning it. “We all had stupid names and even stupider costumes. But my favorite was Poundcakes. She’s the one that I met in prison. Had the best recipes for making hooch in the toilets. Not as good as this stuff, though.”
Every story just went places Klaus wasn't expecting, and he sipped at his drink as he listened, eyes widening slightly at parts. He let her keep her feet where they were, though he did shift to see her better.
"What was your name?"
“Screaming Mimi,” she rolled her eyes. “Thought it was clever at the time. With the screaming powers and all.” She didn’t bother explaining the reference, figured he knew it or didn’t. “Did you all have nicknames too? Feel like that’s part of the super gig. Nobody really takes you all that seriously without one.”
"We're lucky we had names at all. Dad named us Number One through Number Seven," he explained, downing the rest of his glass with that. "When Mom showed up, we got actual names."
He smiled into the empty glass, then reached to set it down without disturbing Mimi too much. "I'm rather fond of mine."
“God, imagine being named Number Two,” she laughed, hand over her mouth, hoped she wasn’t being callous but edging on too drunk at that point to be more tactful. “That’s shit.”
She shook her head, wiping her eyes a bit. “Okay but was there any reason for the numbering? Favorites?” Except she doubted anyone who named their kids by number was really all that loving to any of them.
“Mimi was actually my mother’s name,” she told Klaus, a detail she usually kept more to herself. “Took it as an alias when I ran away from home. But it’s stuck, obviously.”
Klaus laughed in agreement. "Yeah, I told Diego that not long ago? And somehow no one else had made that connection? Don't know how…" He shrugged, grinning as he remembered that conversation.
"Somehow we're ranked by most important or useful but maybe it was all a psychological ploy that my father used on us. The old man was known for messing with our heads." He shrugged, not all concerned with his ranking. "I fall comfortably right in the middle."
Sad that the other bottle wasn't nearby, but not wanting to move, he added, "Ran away, huh? How old were you?"
“A house full of children and none of you were immature enough,” Mimi sounded mildly impressed. “Right in the middle is probably the best place to be. Not as much expectation, not feeling like a complete failure. But still, that’s going to stick with you, huh? Give you some complex.” Team dynamics were always difficult enough to balance on their own, she was glad she wasn’t actually related to any of hers. Even if Karla did feel like the closest thing to a big sister she probably ever had, and that was a weird intrusive drunken thought. If your sister made a habit of trying to manipulate other people into killing you.
“I was eleven,” which was the same age she mentioned earlier. “Mom was planning on running off with her new lover and ended up in prison for a failed robbery attempt instead. Thought she planned on taking me with, but turns out not. Left me in the trailer park with my abusive father. So I figured I’d be the one to make the getaway on my own. Never looked back. I think it’s a testament to my absolute stubbornness that I didn’t end up dead in a ditch at some point.”
Mimi looked down at her empty cup, set it on the floor. “Whatever,” she hopped back up, slightly wobbly on her feet before gaining her balance and grabbing for Klaus’ hand. “Dance with me.”
Klaus let himself be guided back up off the couch, willing to dance and drink the evening away. "Good thing you made it," he told her. "You're already making life here far more entertaining."