A/N: well. not many people reviewed...feeling a little discouraged, but okay. enjoy this one please everyone.
I stared warily at the nearly-clear liquid. "You know, I've always been more of a beer girl--"
Nikola snorted loudly. "Just drink it, Rosabel. Everyone enjoys wine, and it's not like it's going to kill you."
I gave him a look, which he merely chuckled at, and sipped the wine. It hit my tongue with a much less bitter taste than I expected.
"Well?" He grinned, as if he knew what I was thinking. He probably did.
"It's fruitier than I thought it'd be." I took another sip.
Nikola laughed at me and said, "You see? I know you quite well, don't I?"
I grunted. He didn't have to get all smug about it. "What did you have to talk to me about?"
His smile softened, and immediately I didn't like where this was going. He patted the seat next to him on the couch, but I steadfastly refused. Stubborn as always, I perched myself on the edge of Helen's desk. Only afterward did I realize that, in my attempt to avoid sitting next to him, I was now sitting on possibly the most uncomfortable seat ever invented. I suppose this was why more people didn't sit on desks in real life. Nikola didn't comment on my choice of sitting places, but he didn't have to: his one raised eyebrow was enough of a comment. I felt my face flush. He, to my dismay, noticed this as well.
"It's very curious," he said in a quiet voice, his eyes carefully on my face, "how you can think you're dead, Rosabel, when you so obviously have a beating heart that reacts."
"I'm not reacting to anything," I protested shortly. Load of crap.
"Oh yes, I'm sure the pink color on your cheeks has always been there, and will continue to be there even when all your blood is gone." He was mocking me, I knew he was, but there was nothing in his tone to betray it.
"Besides, I don't have a beating heart." I lifted my chin haughtily and smiled. "No heartbeat. I checked myself."
"You're hardly a doctor, Rosabel--" He set down his glass, intending to lecture me, but I cut him off.
"I think I know what a heartbeat sounds like, Tesla." My eyes narrowed as he stood, approaching me. "What are you doing?"
"Double-checking." He reached out for my neck and, in a moment of panic, I batted his hand away.
"Just because you have obsessive-compulsive disorder," I snapped, "doesn't mean I'm wrong about having a beating heart!"
He rolled his eyes, reaching again. This time, I grabbed his wrist and held it tightly. "I don't have obsessive-compulsive disorder," he said.
I lifted my eyebrows, and he scowled. "I'm a perfectionist, but that doesn't mean it's OCD."
"Don't hide it for my benefit, Tesla, all the historians say you have the disorder." I smirked, thoroughly enjoying this. "They also said you were celibate."
Nikola's face went white, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Lies."
"Yes, because historians have nothing better to do than spice up the lives of famous dead people." Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.
"I'm not dead yet, Rosabel." Nikola easily removed his wrist from my grasp and placed two fingers against my pulse point. A shiver passed through me, and he looked up at me, slightly concerned.
"Your fingers are freezing," I said grumpily.
"Stop complaining, Rosabel." But he smiled nonetheless. "No heartbeat."
"I told you!" I exhaled, pouting. "See? You didn't believe me!"
"I know I didn't believe you. I'm--" He stopped abruptly.
I glanced at him; I'd been avoiding his eyes this entire time. He had seemed about to apologize, but now he had ceased talking altogether and was staring rather obviously at my pouted lip. I froze, hurriedly relaxing my mouth. His gaze, however, remained. I didn't want to talk, or move my mouth at all, but something had to be done. And even with oddly-enhanced strength, the half-vampire would stay where he was if he wanted to be there.
"Uh, Nikola...?"
Riveted on my mouth, he leaned forward. The hand on my neck crept up until it cradled the back of my head. Okay, what the hell is going on?
"Nikola! You said you had to talk to me about something?"
He blinked and pulled back. "Yes, of course."
Nikola went back over to the couch, drinking from his glass, while I stared disbelievingly at his back. He didn't even seem flustered. It was as if nothing had happened. I tried to relax, flexing my hands--I'd evidently gripped the edge of the desk.
He settled in and then noticed my expression. "What is it?"
"Nothing," I said tightly. "What do you need to talk to me about?"
He smirked, leaning his head somehow suavely on his hand. "Piano lessons."
I gaped openly. "Piano lessons?!"
"Yes."
"How are piano lessons important?" I demanded.
"It will help you relax and," here his smirk grew, "help you manage that nasty temper."
"I do not have a--" I cleared my throat and said slowly, "I don't have a temper."
"You expressed an interest in piano. Here I am, graciously offering my services, and you are rejecting me without even sparing it a thought." He raised a delicate eyebrow for the second time.
"I can't believe," I hissed, "you would send everyone out of the room--you dismissed Helen, for God's sake--just to ask if I wanted piano lessons."
"Can I take that as a no, Rosabel?" He looked smug for some reason.
"Yes." I folded my arms over my chest.
"Yes?" Nikola asked, smiling.
"I mean, no." I blinked. "I mean, yes that's a no. Oh, forget it!" I hopped off the desk with the full intention of leaving. "Unbelievable!"
He chuckled, seeming perfectly content. "Isn't it, though?"
A/N: sorry it's short. there wasn't much Nikola OC ness going on so i thought i'd use this chapter as an opportunity for that.
