—
what's the story, morning glory?
part trois
—
.
.
0920
Go down the hall and follow the marble, Nate had told her, and she'd followed the marble and found the pantry alright, except she hadn't expected the pantry to be the size of the entire kitchen back in Mystic Falls.
Elena pushes the door open but doesn't immediately go to find what she'd been looking for – she takes a deep, shuddering breath, inhaled enough air to hopefully tame the harried beating of her heart. They were only his friends. Only Nate's friends. The friends she'd never met before, and the waver in his smile when he'd told her of the "surprise engagement party" didn't exactly convince her.
This is ridiculous.
Elena's died and come back.
Elena's had Aunt Jenna die in her arms.
Elena's had to face Klaus head on without as much as an oak stake dagger hidden behind her back.
Elena's seen the devil's true face and not even flinched.
Elena was a member of Caroline Forbes' prom committee, for God's sake.
While all of this is enough to ensure her a medal of, like, valour and a lifetime of PTSD (Caroline, when asked to choose between two colour schemes, can be downright terrifying) none of them prepared her for this—
Sunday brunch with Upper East Siders.
"Nervous, Elena?"
Elena gives a sharp gasp. Without thinking she'd grabbed the first thing her hands met, and had hurled it in the direction of the all-too-recognizable voice.
Klaus catches the tin deftly before it hits his face. "Caviar? Good call. The hors d'oeurvres were rather… lacking."
0910
Had she not been so taken off-guard by his presence she would have come up with a better comeback than grabbing a can of tomato paste next.
"I'm on vervain," she warns. Her shoulders are stiff, she's standing warily, ready to run. She'd never stopped taking vervain, even after leaving everything behind.
"I suppose you think that makes a difference," Klaus says with a hint of mockery. "Be reasonable, Elena. It's a day of celebration. Do you really think I'd kill you here and now? At your own party?"
"Sounds dramatic enough," Elena says. "Why are you accosting me in a pantry of all places?"
"Couldn't pass up the opportunity to offer my congratulations in person. You seemed awfully busy out there, being hounded by socialites."
Elena flushes. "I'm going back. I suggest you leave. Now."
"Yeah, you probably should," Klaus grins. "Your newly arrived guests are simply bouncing to meet you."
Elena, hand poised on the doorknob, pauses. "What newly arrived guests?"
0900
Blair hasn't stopped scrutinizing the crowd since she'd got here. Nate's off in some corner entertaining his old rowing team, and it was highly suspicious that she still hadn't caught a glimpse of Small-town Seductress yet. Had this engagement party been hers to host, she wouldn't leave her fiancé's side at all – especially with the sizeable diamond she'd have hinted very heavily to her Fantasy Fiancé to buy for her.
"You've got your midterm test face on all over again, Waldorf."
Dan sidles his way beside her, two glasses of champagne in his hands. She takes one without asking, but he doesn't protest, and she wonders if it had indeed been for her all along.
Not that she found it endearing or whatever.
It's only good manners, after all. Humphrey was learning.
The only response she gives him is a liberal gulp of her champagne. Dan gives her a look, and says, "I know what you're planning."
"Come to bore me with your platitudes? Your banal altruism?"
"You know those are all good things, right?"
"For a writer, I would've thought you'd steer away from all the clichés," Blair snips.
"For someone who insists she should be a writer, I would've thought you'd appreciate character development." Dan's look grows into something she can't describe. "This isn't you, Waldorf. High School you, maybe, but you're better than that."
Blair fishes a strawberry out of her champagne and pops it in her mouth. "So you're okay with Vanessa shoving her camera in everyone's faces, which is seriously a regression in character growth, by the way, how she remains so static throughout the years—"
"I see you're getting better at compliments."
"—but me, standing here, not even doing anything—"
"Yet," Dan presses. "Not doing anything yet."
"—I get the some things never change speech, but you'll always think Vanessa's charming, oh she's just being herself."
Dan smiles a little, which throws her off. "Do I detect a little jealousy there?"
"Of course not," Blair sniffs.
0890
Predictably, Vanessa appears, along with a blonde with curls tumbling down her shoulders. "Hey guys. Met Caroline yet?"
Except she wasn't exactly introducing them as much as she was prompting them with the lens of her camera.
"Tell me again why I had to sign a waiver form earlier?" Caroline asks, looking very close to batting the camera out of her face.
"I'm filming a documentary. It's about the sanctimonious meeting of two worlds not much different from one another: Southern Royalty—" the camera pans into Caroline's face, "—and Manhattan Royalty. How different are they, really, underneath that green drip of old money? Will one eat the other? Will there be any survivors at all?" Vanessa zooms into Nate's nostrils from across the room.
Caroline glances at Blair, who looks bored, and then to Dan, who looks like he's actually weighing in on Vanessa's whole spiel. "Right. Are you going to be following us around all day, then?"
"Just pretend I'm not here."
"O…kay." Caroline turns to Blair. "Hi, we haven't met. I'm Caroline—"
"Forbes, one of the Founding Family members of Mystic Falls, established 1860. Forbes' net worth isn't anything to shout over, though the non-profit foundation your father set up for Emotional Trauma From Animal Attacks keeps all of you going." Blair pauses mid-stream to take a sip of her champagne. Dan looks a mixture of indignant and impressed, while Caroline –
"Did you have me investigated?" she asks, eyes narrowed.
"No, I had everyone in this room investigated," Blair corrects. "And then compiled, learned, and remembered the information. You're one of many, don't flatter yourself."
"And that is my cue to leave," Dan announces.
Blair cocks an eyebrow. "And where are you going?"
"To the corner of healthy discussion on academia." Dan points to a small group of people huddled around the cheese platter. "Heard that Klaus guy can speak seven languages. Gonna conjugate Finnish verbs with him."
Blair rolls her eyes, and is surprised to find Caroline's eyes rolling along with hers.
0880
"Um?" is Serena's intelligent response to the pantry door not budging. She jiggles the door knob. She's about to put some pressure with her shoulder when it swings open, revealing a very frazzled-looking brunette.
A very frazzled-looking brunette she recognizes as one Elena Gilbert.
Who does not look like a Small-town Seductress. At all.
"Hi," Serena says, for lack of anything else to say.
"Hey," Elena says back. "Um, sorry about that, I just – needed some air."
"Yeah, I too find solace among pitted olives," Serena laughs, and then bites her lip. "Is it too soon for me to be asking you if you're okay? I'm Nate's best friend – and, evidently you're his fiancé now, so we should be somewhere … there. Are we there?"
Elena clears her throat. "No, it's – you're just being thoughtful. Hi, Serena. Nate talks highly of you. And Blair. And another guy, Dan, right? It's nice to finally have some faces to match the stories."
Serena nods, quelling the urge to ask what exactly Nate had said of all of them. "Chuck… talks about you too. Can't believe he met you first out of all of us. I'm glad you haven't run for the hills yet."
"He's nice enough to hang with." I've dealt with worse, Elena doesn't add, thinking of Salvatores. Salvatores who apparently were prowling the pastry table right next door…
"Oh God," Elena slaps her hand to her mouth. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
Serena, very wisely, grabs napkins to preserve her Dolce and Gabbana cocktail dress.
0870
"Miss Mystic Falls—"
"Lacrosse tyrant—"
"—and organizer of some Mystic Falls beautification committee, whatever the hell that means—"
"—Nate mentioned you wanted to get into Yale? Why did you end up in NYU of all places?"
Caroline smiles.
Blair knows smiles.
That isn't a friendly, curious smile.
"I see you've information on me, too."
"I make it a point to know who my friend is getting trusty with," Caroline says airily.
"So do I," Blair says, teeth clenched in a poorly-masked smile.
"Let's not make it into a bonding thing."
"Let's not."
"End of Conversation #05," Vanessa mutters into her tape recorder.
0860
Blair all but drags Dan by his elbow away from the throaty laughter bursting around the end of a joke with a punchline that went, "And he said, No, Plato definitely would have!"
"I really don't think you should be showing off, Humphrey, when your French is barely passable," she hisses, grabbing a lemon tart off a passing tray.
"Not all of us crawled out of our mothers' wombs straight to the Louvre, Waldorf," Dan shoots, and in resignation takes an appetizer for himself as well. "That Klaus guy is really something else. Did you know he'd actually read the original manuscripts of—"
Blair waved it off like Celine Dion perfume. "Yeah, sure, sounds interesting. It's forty minutes into the brunch and Elena still hasn't made an appearance—"
"Yeah, all your scrapbooking would go to waste. Waldorf, how will you ever go on without telling her exactly what product her hair lacks?" Dan groans mockingly. "The travesty of not being able to put her in her place."
Blair widens her eyes. "Why must you assume every agenda with me involves maiming a reputation?"
Dan stares at her. "You really want to go there?"
"And just so you know, it wasn't a scrapbook, it was a binder. The tabs cascade."
0850
"So…" Serena says, finally understanding, "your ex is out there?"
"Exes," Elena corrects. "And yes. Both of them. And one of them didn't really take the news so well—"
Elena misses Serena's wry smile. "You didn't expect he'd come, did you?"
"Not at all," Elena says.
"Well, no time like the present to face him!" Serena says brightly. She clambers to her feet and holds out her hand. "It's your party. Nate's out there talking about you with the biggest, dopiest, most lovesick smile I've ever seen on his face. Don't hide in the pantry."
"I'm worried he'll cause a scene," Elena admits, but stands anyway.
Serena's hand is warm wrapped around hers, and she gives her hand a small squeeze. "With Blair around? Never. Speaking of, you should meet her."
No sooner does she say that, the air is punctured by a long, shrill scream.
0840
"Klaus."
The Klaus in questions turns slowly at the call of his name, and Caroline can count, as if the second had been broken into pieces, the time it takes for him to take her in, and then smile.
The tick of her own pulse hesitates.
"Love," Klaus lets trip his tongue, "hello. I've been waiting."
"Had to get a dress," Caroline says; without realizing she had swung her hips so that her dress brushes his knees, her body moving of its own accord. It was as if her bones had sensed his. "Mystic Falls didn't have anything Upper East Side-worthy."
Klaus rakes his eyes appreciatively over her form. "And yet here you are, redefining couture."
"Urgh, I must have gone through a hundred dresses. Wish I had an entire vault of dresses at my disposal," Caroline jokes, but the laughter dies in her throat when she sees how intense Klaus suddenly got—and she remembers the late afternoon sun skittering into his attic, Klaus on his knees straightening out the hem of her dress—
"…and I'm pretty sure I overpacked," Caroline hears herself finish saying. "Have you met Madame Satan yet?"
"Blair Waldorf? You mean the obvious mastermind behind all of this?" Klaus gestures expansively around the room.
"With her around, I feel like this thing is gonna draw out longer than she should." Caroline, of course, isn't talking about the party, but of something they had all pre-discussed not to mention by name, especially now in the presence of Vanessa.
Who is still tailing people around the party, nose in the flipped-screen of her camera.
"Well, good thing you packed enough to last the turn of a new century," Klaus says. Lightly he adds, "Would you like to come visit one of my—"
Damon elbows his way through champagne and shoulders, shooting a smirk. "Blondie. Rasputin."
"Headless corpse in about two minutes," Klaus greets with no smile.
Caroline eyes him over the rim of her champagne flute. "What took you?"
"Had to pick up a few things," Damon says vaguely, in that annoying way of his. He surveys the crowd with a hint of distaste. "Anyway, saddle up. Stefan came up with a plan."
Caroline's not sure, but somewhere in between the lope of chatter and tinkling music, she can swear she hears Klaus give a quiet snort.
0830
The way The Plan came into being was this:
Stefan woke up one Thursday morning and decided, quite grandly, that he was going to stop a wedding.
It just so happens that the next wedding coming up was that of Elena and Nathaniel's.
"Nate," Nathaniel corrects, slipping his hands into his thousand dollar Ralph Lauren pants and smiling so large his groomed eyebrows disappeared into his carefully-tussled-with-luxury-product hair. "And it's great to finally meet you."
"Likewise, Nate." Thaniel, Stefan finished silently in his head. Nathaniel was gesturing grandly about some drink or other at the bartender, and his Daytona 'Spirit of Sendai Miyagi' Blue Dial Rolex glinted in the golden tilt of the overhead chandelier.
"So did you and Elena go to high school together?" Nathaniel asks, shifting foot to foot in his Barker Black Ostrich Cap Toes.
"Yeah," Stefan says. "We dated for four seasons."
Nathaniel chokes on his drink, and will probably have to set an appointment with Dr. Leonard Hochstein somewhere in Switzerland to check on his delicate trachea later.
"Oh, Stefan. Man, I knew you looked familiar – 'Lena showed me pictures, but it's been crazy today; never met so many of her friends in just one day. Never really met any of her friends, period…"
'Lena, Stefan processes this. Sure.
Nathaniel's Crest WhiteStrips-whitened teeth gleamed at him as he smiles. "Elena's an enigma when she wants to be."
"You tell me," Nathaniel laughs and it sounds fond, but to Stefan seemed terribly practised. "Me, I'm an open book. Elena will always answer when I ask, but sometimes… wish I didn't have to ask, you know?"
Not even an hour into the brunch and Nate's already slinging verbal abuse towards his beloved. Stefan raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. "So I heard you've been with not one but three of the women in this room?"
Nathaniel stops mid-laugh. "That came out of nowhere?"
"Just making sure Elena's made the right choice, that's all." Stefan smiles with nothing in his eyes.
"Brother, what is the male equivalent of slut-shaming?" Damon worms his way into the conversation. "'Cause you're laying that one awfully thick right now."
"Damon," Stefan introduces shortly. "My brother."
"Ah," Nathaniel nods, rubbing his Zafiro Iridium-shaved chin. "Who invited you two again?"
0820
"You Elena friend?" Nate grunts.
Damon tries to speak as plainly as possible, so this silver spoon twerp can understand him. "Yes. Elena and I – have known each other – a long time."
Stefan sends him a questioning look. Poor brother. Only ten minutes with Natey and he's already rubbed off on golden boy's slowness.
"Elena beautiful," Nate nods as he sips his drink. "Me and Elena together forever."
Damon is sympathetic. "Sure, buddy. True love and all that Hallmark-approved jazz. That is, until you meet all the skeletons in her closet."
"Hworgh?" Nate tilts his head, looking utterly confused.
"Dang, sorry about that. Forgot to dumb it down for you." Damon clears his throat and enunciates heavily, "She many secrets."
"Case in point," Stefan says, and points to himself, "Did you know I was her epic love?"
"And I her esteemed confidant?" Damon interjects.
"And I the person who saved her from certain death?"
Nate, at this point, was looking close to tears as he tries to process this newfound information. "Me brain ouch."
"Yes, that happens," Damon nods. "Poor lamb. Maybe a vessel is breaking in your head. Nothing a good crack won't fix…"
The smile on his face must have grown menacing, because Nate gulps and takes a step back. "Me go now—"
"No, stay," Damon implores. "We haven't even started on the icebreakers—!"
At that moment, a scream pierces the classical music, halting all conversations.
Elena crashes into the room, breathless, a hint of fear, but that damning, stubborn determination burning in her brown eyes. "Whatever it is that's happening, stop!"
And then, from a corner of the room—
"You lot really don't know how to throw a party, do you?" Kol drawls, wiping the corner of his mouth with a thumb, his other hand holding up a limp, dead girl.
Damon groans, waiting for the rest of the room to predictably start screaming.
we're almost to the wedding bits! do let me know what you think?