Note: This takes place after the end of Sleepers but before Haunted.
The bottle dripped what little crimson liquid remained on its rim when it fell off the edge of the table. The green glass rolled slowly to a stop on top of Helen's rug; she was not going to be happy but in his current state of affairs, juggling the considerations of others was not at the top of Nikola's priority list.
He growled in frustration as he struggled with the opener. Gone were the days wherein he could remove the cork from a bottle of merlot with his teeth and claws. Sighing, almost pathetically, he tossed the cork aside and poured another flowing glass of sanguine liquid.
"Noooooobody knoooowwwss my sorroooooowww," he started as he lifted the glass to his lips and took another long swig. As he stared through the glass to his surroundings, he briefly noticed how blurry things appeared in the corner of his vision, a fact he attributed to the glass and not the liquid. "Nooobody knooowws…" he raised the glass, as if to salute an empty room, before downing another gulp.
Helen stared upwards at the patterns in the damask canopy of her bed. She had retired from their private conversation an hour before, but sleep had yet to invite her into its welcoming arms, despite the bottle of wine she had shared with Tesla. After the adventures of the evening, emotions were running high and she found herself regretting the undoing of her life's deepest regret, injecting the Five with the source blood. As always, Nikola was a genius and his device worked as expected, but this time his invention worked too well. As with most things in the world of abnormals, it was complicated.
She wasn't sure what was keeping her up, be it guilt or worry, but it was definitely some part of her conscious, ironic since Tesla was the one who claimed that it oft got the better of her. Having lain awake for the past hour, Helen had taken note that Nikola had yet to enter the bedroom prepared for him across the hall from her. The large oak door had a notorious squeak to it and she had been waiting to hear it in the back of her mind.
Sighing softly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her head swam slightly as she felt the lingering effects of the wine. Shaking it off, she gathered her black silk robe to cover her red lace chemise. Being a Victorian era woman was ingrained into Helen's demeanor, clothes were meant to accentuate a woman's femininity (and curves), and as such dressing to impress didn't just apply to work.
The sound of soft footsteps approaching the office would have alerted Nikola a day before to the presence of company, but gone were his super senses. Instead, he was focusing on pouring another deep glass of intoxicating wine. He held it up to his nose and inhaled the aroma. The smells, warmth it gave going down and overall euphoric effect were nearly unenjoyable as a vampire. Being able to appreciate its intended characteristics, however, was a small consolation prize.
The first thing Helen noticed when she entered the office was the empty bottle on her Persian rug, a gift from the last Qajar ruler, an abnormal, of the republic now known as Iran. It was given to her as a token of appreciation for helping to establish the nation's first parliament at the turn of the 20th century. The next thing that assaulted her senses was the smell; a thick, oaky, alcohol aroma lingered on the air.
She watched as he swirled the glass in his hands, entranced by the liquid's dance he hummed softly. Nikola was humming, undoubtedly he was inebriated - a site she hadn't seen in over 130 years. The day's events were a shock to both of them, but she couldn't imagine his grief after losing such an integral piece of his identity – especially something essential to his dreams, however puerile, of world domination. She knew that his magnetism would be a distraction for tomorrow, as he was clearly drowning his de-vamping sorrows away with another expensive bottle of her wine.
Taking a quiet deep breath, she walked around to the other side of the sofa, notably startling him. "Helen," he said with near exuberance, "join me!"
"It's late, Nikola." She glanced at the table and noticed her glass from earlier was still sitting next to the open bottle.
"Come now, the night is young." He placed his glass precariously close to the edge of the table as he lifted the bottle and poured her a large glass. "Helen," he raised his eyebrows and had a playful disciplinary tone, "sit." He patted the sofa next to him, looking at her with a pathetic pout as he edged the glass towards her.
Responding to a pang of guilt for leaving him alone, she sat down on the sofa. Her silk robe, frictionless on the leather cushion, caused her to slide a few inches closer to him than she intended. She lifted the glass, swirled it slowly, closed her eyes and breathed in its heavy scent.
"Did you have trouble sleeping?" He noted the attire and his eyes lingered on her long legs. Slowly his gaze ran up from her red painted toes to the middle of her thigh. He felt slightly flush and made a considerable effort to bring his attention north.
"One should never drink alone," she smiled. A long swig later and she finished the glass, unaware to his glances.
"It was never a problem before," he winked.
"Well, before wine was nothing more than grape juice to you."
"Ah, before," he stared into the depths of his glass, "when I could remove the cork from a bottle of wine without a cursed bottle opener."
The platitudes of 'are you ok' and 'how are you feeling' sounded trite as they echoed in her mind. There was silence as she filled her glass halfway, aware of a notable tipsiness.
Nikola broke the silence. "You truly are stunning." He was uncharacteristically sincere.
"You are drunk," she retorted softly.
"That doesn't change the validity of my previous statement, moya droga." He downed what liquid remained in his glass.
As he slipped into Serbian, she couldn't help but smile a bit. Eagerly he filled his glass again and topped hers off without consent, using the last drops from the bottle. "To your beauty, Johnny boy may not have good morals but he has good taste." He hefted the glass and took a long swig.
Without comment, she followed suit and drank the wine in her glass. She had learned to be forgiving of his tongue and tonight she knew he needed a friend. In a century and a half of living she had learned one truth about old friends: they may know your dirty secrets, but they loved you in spite of them… and usually had the discretion to keep them private. She was sure that he did the former and had always walked a fine line of flirtatious wit in her relationship with him. He truly was a genius and their banter was provocative, in more ways than one.
She looked over the brim of her quickly emptying glass to see him staring at her. She felt her cheeks redden. His disheveled hair looked even more tousled in the low light of her office and his dark eyes had a mischievous twinkle. If her relationship with John was any indication, she was definitely attracted to the 'bad boy' and Nikola, vampire or not, fit the mold.
She could hear her heartbeat in her head and felt flush. Clearing her throat, and attempting to refocus her mind, she returned the empty glass to the table. "Nikola, we really should get some sleep."
"Is that an invitation?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Pfft." The undignified sound that escaped her lips surprised even her. Standing, a bit unsteadily on her own, she offered a hand, "Come on, I'll help you upstairs."
"I'm a big boy," he placed his glass on the end table and went to stand on his own. Helen recognized the signs of unbalance as his eyes darted from side to side and his legs wobbled. She managed to move in under his arm to steady him and wrapped a hand around his waist, as much for his balance as her own.
"Yes, one who's had too much to drink." She hiccupped softly.
"It seems I'm not the only one," he draped his arm around her shoulder and did his best to walk in line with her.
As they stumbled slightly at the door, Helen braced her left hand against a table. A picture frame wobbled before crashing to the ground. "Shhhhhhh," Nikola whispered loudly, "you'll wake the children. We wouldn't want young William or sasquatch to see you like this."
"Like," a hiccup interrupted her whisper, "what? Bloody hell," she muttered softly, realizing it had been awhile since she had finished a bottle of wine.
After nearly ten minutes of stumbling, they left a knocked over vase, three catawampus picture frames and an askew rug in their imbalanced wake between the office and the upstairs bedrooms.
"Here we are," she whispered through another round of diaphragmatic spasms as they arrived at the threshold to his room. "Just a little further." She steadied herself on the doorframe as Nikola leaned heavily on her, before taking a few more steps into the guest bedroom.
"Mmm, the beautiful Helen Man-gus is in my bedroom," he slurred slightly. "If I had known it would take only a few bottles of wine, I would have liquored you up a century ago."
"I'm not…hic….that…hic…drunk." Helen couldn't help but laugh. "Damn…hic..it!"
Through laughter, Helen went to help Nikola on to the bed, but a few uncoordinated seconds later she landed on top of him, pinned against him with her hand still around his waist.
There was a joint 'oomph' and more giggling as they lay on the bed, "Nikola, what…hic… are you…hic doing?" His eyes had once more drifted downwards, her robe had slipped open in the fall and he was focused on her revealed lingerie.
"Admiring the view," his eyebrows waggled slightly. Her chest raised quickly in succession as she hiccupped twice more.
"I can't … hic… get rid… hic of these hiccups!" She managed as she hung her head through her giggling. Her hair cascaded forwards, the scent of lavender wafted past him and it took a second for him to clear his mind to respond, "Well, doctor, hold your breath."
Her body was warm and swelled against his as she inhaled deeply, puffed her cheeks and began exhaling evenly and slowly. The smell of wine filled the space between them. In the middle of exhaling she hiccupped again and he chuckled as he felt her spasm on top of him.
"Any other suggestions, genius?" she looked at him, playfully annoyed before hiccupping again.
The smell of her hair and the glistening tears of laughter in her eyes were far more intoxicating than the wine. "You're not holding it long enough," he stared deeply into her eyes before rolling over so that he was now on top of her. Slowly, he brushed the hair from the side of her face and pulled her into a long, passionate kiss.
He could taste the wine on her lips and feel the slow, warm exhale from her nose as her lips pressed into his. After what felt like minutes, he pulled away. Her eyes opened slowly and she took in a deep breath.
"Are they gone?" He asked softly.
"Hmm?" She managed, licking her lips lightly. "Oh," she waited a moment, her eyes locked with his, "I think so." She smiled gently, "Thank you."
"My pleasure," he grinned.
A few seconds passed. Able to breathe again, Helen felt her head clear slightly and realized the position she was in. "I guess I should get some sleep. Lots of," she paused as her hand idly traced his chest through his shirt, "paperwork to complete in the," she pressed gently to push him off of her, feeling his firm abdomen in the process, "morning. You know?"
"Of course," he rolled off of her and lay on the bed next to her, turning to look at her in the moonlight. "Would you like an escort to your room?"
"I think you've been enough help for one evening." She could still taste him on her lips. Her heart fluttered, but she knew that this was one line she was not meant to cross. Carefully, she sat up and scooted off the bed.
"If you feel so, but my ministrations don't have to end there," he offered, his eyes closed as drunken sleep called him to its door.
"Good night, Nikola." She leaned over him and kissed him gently on the cheek.
He mumbled, "Good night, moya droga," before passing out.