You honestly didn’t think this day would come.

You had been in plenty of impossible situations since you’d started working with Five. Apocalypses, time paradoxes, spontaneous combustion, but nothing prepared you for this.

Five was standing in your living room, staring at the flat-screen TV like it was a nuclear device about to explode.

“Explain to me again,” he said slowly, “why people voluntarily waste hours of their lives watching paid people dance on a screen.”

You tried to suppress a laugh. It didn't really work. He shot you a frown, but he could never stay mad at you for more than four seconds.

“Because it’s entertaining.” you replied casually, picking up the remote. “Here. Let me show you.”

He eyed the remote with slight disdain but took it anyway.

"And...what is this abomination?"

“A remote. Look, this button turns it on.”

You guided his finger to the power button, and the screen flickered to life. The Netflix logo appeared in bright red.

Five narrowed his eyes at the screen.

“Why the hell is it so bright? Smug little shit.”

You tried to hide your grin and navigated to the menu.

“Now you can pick movies or shows to watch. This is the search-”

“What is that?” He cut in, pointing at the thumbnail of a cartoon.

“That’s…SpongeBob. Never mind. Let's just start small. Documentary?”

“Absolutely not.” He folded his arms. “Find something where people get what they deserve.”

There was a pause.

“…You mean like a revenge thriller?”

“That.”

You scrolled through the options, feeling his skeptical gaze boring into the side of your head. After a minute, you selected a show and hit play.

“How do you know if this is worth watching?”

“Well, you can read the description.” You showed him how to highlight the synopsis with the remote. “And you can find something else if you don't like it. Or I guess you could search reviews on Google.”

"What the hell is Google?"

"...Nothing. Never mind. Here."

He took the remote cautiously, testing the buttons with the same intensity he probably used to crack temporal equations. When he accidentally turned the audio on in Chinese, he let out a frustrated noise.

“This is stupid. In my day-”

“You didn’t have a day. You time-travelled through several centuries,” you teased.

He glared at you, but there was no real venom behind it.

“You know what? Fine.” He dropped onto the couch beside you, remote clenched in his fist. “But if this turns out to be completely stupid, you are fully accountable.”

“Deal.”

As the show started, he leaned back, eyes glued to the screen. Ten minutes in, he muttered under his breath:

“…This is acceptable.”

You smiled, sinking deeper into the cushions.
It wasn’t exactly saving the world, but you’d take it.