Work, as usual, drags.
"How are you doing?" Kate asks you as you're knee deep in tiramisu.
"Oh, you know," you say, "Same old."
The only new thing in your life is Klaus, and you're not quite sure how you would bring him up.
"You seem more tired than usual," Kate comments, "And that's saying something."
You laugh. "I guess I'm still getting over the flu," you lie, "I didn't get a lot of sleep."
She clucks her tongue. "You should take better care of yourself. You're too young to be running yourself ragged."
"That's not what everyone else seems to think," you say as mildly as you can manage.
Kate rolls her eyes. "Take it from me, you don't want to waste your youth doing nothing but work."
You hum, a smile tugging at your lips.
"Someone sounds like they're projecting."
Kate laughs. "Maybe a little," she says, "What time are you off?"
"Four, I'm out early."
"Megan can take over if you want to leave now."
Your forehead creases. "You sure?"
"Slow day," she says with a smile, "You work too hard, take some time off."
You need the money, but you breathe a sigh of relief and untie your apron.
"Kate, you're the best."
She winks. "I know, baby girl."
You laugh and toss your apron in the bin before leaving. The sun hasn't even set yet, not like it usually does by the time you get out of work. You drive home with the vague intention of baking something just for you. You get out all the ingredients and wine poured when you hear your door open. Someone calls your name.
For a moment, you think it's a break-in. Then you remember yourself.
"Klaus," you say evenly, as you wipe stray flour from your hands, "What are you doing on my doorstep?"
There's someone else with him, a very grouchy looking man who looks a little younger than you. He looks at you haughtily and you avert your gaze.
"I needed a babysitter," Klaus answers brightly, "Would you care to invite him in?"
You don't think you really have a choice in the matter. You lean against your counter, wine glass held loosely in your hand.
"… Come in."
Klaus steps inside and throws the man in your direction. "This is my littlest brother, Kol. Watch him for me, will you?"
You want to tell him that his little brother looks very capable of murdering you on the spot, but think better of it. Kol, apparently, doesn't.
"A babysitter?" He spits, "Is everything a game to you?"
"Almost."
"What's to stop me from murdering her and leaving?"
You swallow, thick and loud in your throat. Now that you think of it, you probably shouldn't have invited them in.
"Nothing at all," Klaus says smoothly, "From killing her, at least. I already had a spell placed on the house. You won't be able to leave until midnight."
Kol's face screws up with rage and slams up against the doorway. The door is wide open, but he seems unable to go past the two inches of empty air.
"You're a bastard," Kol snarls.
"I'm aware," Klaus says smoothly, "But I'm afraid I can't have you committing a massacre and undermining me tonight. Consider yourself lucky I found a babysitter instead of a coffin." He stops halfway through closing the door. "Oh," he adds, looking to Kol, "I wouldn't recommend drinking from her, she's a fan of vervain tea."
With that, he's gone and he's left you with his homicidal brother. You hope there aren't any more of them, but you know damn well you're not that lucky. Kol turns to glare at you. You look at him evenly, taking in the rage you see in his eyes. You're well versed in managing people who hate you just for existing. (Not, you think, something you ever thought you would have to use again after moving out). It works in your favor tonight. You take a sip of your wine.
"Well," you say, "How do you feel about madeleines?"
Kol, as it turns out, is mostly indifferent. He sits at your breakfast bar, idly watching you bake while drinking from a glass of wine. He's already gone through a whole bottle and the remainder of your tequila. You should have asked Klaus for babysitting money.
You don't think Kol would've reacted well to that.
"So what does my brother want with you?" Kol asks. You put the dough in the fridge to chill and set a timer.
"That's a good question," you pour yourself another glass of wine, "You would know better than me."
"Has he fucked you yet?"
You spit out your drink. Kol is watching you through cold calculating eyes. You don't appreciate his examination.
"No," you manage to say, "And I don't intend to."
His lips curl like he doesn't believe you. "Then what could he possibly want with a human like you?"
You don't appreciate the disdain in his voice, but you know better than to anger a vampire who's trapped in your house with you. You take another sip of your wine to wash down the irritation. Kol is still staring at you when you realize his question wasn't rhetorical.
"He doesn't want anything with me," you say. You think it's the truth, at least.
"Current circumstances would beg to differ. Why else would I be trapped in this little hovel you call a home?"
"Not very polite," you say, "I like my house."
Kol looks at you like he doesn't even sort of believe you. You agree with him.
"And," you tack on, "It's likely that Klaus is trying to get you to kill me."
"Hm," Kol muses, "He knows me so well." He drains his wine and sets his glass back on the counter. His eyes stare piercingly at you. "How did the two of you meet?"
"He murdered someone at my work. I was hiding in the pantry."
"Ah," Kol says, "A modern love story." Your face twists in disgust and you're not fast enough to disguise it. Kol's face brightens with savage amusement. "I see you don't like my brother any more than I do."
"Considering he ripped my throat out; no, I'm not the biggest fan."
Kol's eyes glitter with malice. He leans over the counter, too close for comfort. "You could kill him." He sounds very much like he's trying to trick you.
You balk. "No I couldn't. I could never kill anyone."
"Of course you could," Kol asserts, "Everyone is capable of murder."
You can barely hide the expression of sheer incredulity that tries to erupt on your face. He looks into your eyes like he's just stated an immutable truth.
"Is your whole family like this?"
Kol doesn't even blink at the question.
"Pretty much."
"Sounds like a fun household," you say dryly. You don't think you want to meet the rest of the Mikaelsons. One, even, was more than enough.
A grin slides across his lips at that. "That's one way of putting it."
Your timer goes off for the madeleines. You pull the batter out of the fridge and preheat the oven. This is not how you expected your evening off to go. Tension bleeds from the air around you. You wear fear like a well-worn coat. It's not the intense terror that Klaus inspired in you upon first meeting (his intention, you're sure), but a constant emanation of nervous arousal. But Klaus, if nothing else, serves as a sort of exposure-therapy for fear of vampires. By comparison, making cookies for his younger brother is a walk in the park.
You take that back when you go to take out your madeleine pan and Kol is standing directly behind you.
"Jesus Christ."
"I'm not quite that old," he says, smirk painted on his face.
Despite only having met two members so far, you decide you dislike this family. You're sure you aren't alone in that.
"There's seventy percent chocolate in the cabinet," you say, "Get a double boiler going?" You move around him and strangely, Kol lets you. Even stranger, he obeys you. Your kitchen is small, but it is just large enough for you to scoop madeleine batter into your pans while Kol melts chocolate for you. The oven beeps and your kitchen grows increasingly warm, much warmer than the late autumn outdoors. You put the madeleines in the oven and reset your timer. Kol continues to study you.
The hairs on your neck stand up. You smooth them down.
The madeleines don't bake for long. You make Kol help you take them out of the pan. By the time the two of you are done, the chocolate is ready for dipping.
"Do you usually bake for stray vampires?" Kol asks, grin sharp.
"I was already planning on making these when you two showed up."
"You're saying I ruined your evening?" Kol mocks.
"Pretty much, yeah."
Kol has you by the throat faster than you can see, faster than you can blink. You close your eyes rapidly, trying to clear the spots in your vision.
"That's not very polite," he comments.
You tug at his wrist uselessly. You'd have better luck trying to move concrete. The blood stills around your brain. The hum of your heartbeat thumps inside your skull. You feel yourself growing dizzy.
"Were… you just… waiting for me to say… something wrong?" You wheeze.
Kol grins, teeth sharp. "Not particularly, but I never pass up an opportunity." His grip tightens. You thrash wildly against him.
"Get… off of me," you growl, "We haven't… finished the madeleines."
His grip loosens and you fall to your knees, clutching your throat.
"Did you just leverage baked goods for your life?" Kol asks incredulously.
"I don't know," you rasp, staring at the stray dirt trapped in your floorboards, "Did it work?"
Kol laughs, sudden and bright. You look up at him and he offers you his hand. You take it and he pulls you up so hard you fall against him on accident. The wool of his jacket presses into your cheek. If it were anyone else, you'd find it pleasant. You're still dizzy, from the attempted asphyxiation or the wine, you're not sure. You're stunned that your dumb comment from an oxygen-starved brain managed to stop Kol from killing you.
You have the odd feeling that your brief experience with strangulation wasn't personal, this is just how Kol is. A chill runs down your spine. You pull away and try to move towards the bathroom, but Kol grabs your wrists.
"Where are you going?" Kol asks, tilting his head.
"The mirror," you manage to say, "I want to see how bad the bruise is."
Kol rolls his eyes like you're the ridiculous one.
"It's barely visible," he says, "Calm down."
You fight the urge to snap at him, not wanting to ruin your small chance of living through the night.
"I'll still have to cover it for work tomorrow."
"If you live that long." He pats your cheek like you're a child and you realize you actually like Kol even less than his brother.
You don't have any response for him, so you turn back to the madeleines.
You dawdle and try to make time to calm your nerves. It nearly works. The chocolate is still hot enough that it burns your fingers as you dip them. You lay them out on parchment paper to cool. You are, generally, a patient person. But this doesn't extend to cooking. You take one, chocolate still dripping, and take a bite.
You hum. It's better than you expected. Kol is still watching you and your manners win out.
"Want to try one?" You ask Kol. You're about to offer him one when he takes a bite out of the one in your hands. Your nose scrunches. "Keep it," you say and he just laughs.
"Do you even have a survival instinct?" He wonders. His voice is lighter than before.
"You know, Klaus asked me the same thing."
"What conclusion did he come to?"
You hum noncommittally and take another bite. "You'd have to ask him."
Kol's face wrinkles in distaste. "That would require talking to my brother," he says, moving back to the other side of the breakfast bar and taking a seat.
"Do the two of you not talk much?" You ask carefully.
"One could say that."
He doesn't say anything else. You pour both of you another glass of wine. Your throat aches as you swallow.
"So how does the whole vampire thing work?" You ask.
He looks at you, the edge of amused. He accepts the wine.
"It's fairly simple: kill people, live forever." He says dryly. He slouches in his seat, looking every bit the ruminating Dracula. You wonder if all vampires get lessons on gloom and melancholy. You suppose you'd need a larger sample size. (Not that you particularly want to meet any more).
You sip from your glass. "Do you really live forever?"
"Why?" Kol asks dangerously, "Thinking about killing me?"
Drama definitely runs in the family.
"Not quite," you say, taking a sip from your glass. You're starting to feel the wine. "I was just wondering."
"Then wonder something else," Kol threatens, but it lacks the murderous rage from earlier. You're glad. He drains his glass and you realize that's the second wine bottle you've emptied tonight. He seems better off than you. Especially considering he drank nearly a fifth of tequila.
"How much do you have to drink to get drunk?"
"More than you have in this dump. Would it kill you to get better wine?"
Ouch. "I just graduated and I'm working in the same job I had during college because no one wants to hire a Psych major," you say, "Does it look like I can afford better wine?"
Kol blinks like he's not used to thinking about something as mundane as money. Your bruise throbs and it occurs to you that this is the strangest conversation you've ever had.
Ah well.
"I suppose," Kol says eventually. He's quiet for a moment. "Vampires can die, regular vampires at least. All it takes is a wooden stake or ripping out their heart; fairly simple."
"Regular vampires?"
A rolling smirk crosses his face. "Yes," he says, "Regular." He doesn't elaborate.
"So you live forever, what else can you do?"
You plate up the chocolate-dipped madeleines and turn the oven off. The chocolate is matte to the touch.
"We're faster than humans, stronger. We can compel humans to do our bidding."
A memory sharpens in your subconscious.
"And vervain protects people from that?"
Kol looks at you accusingly. "How do you figure?" He looks like you better answer correctly.
"Klaus tried to," you explain, "It didn't take."
The murderous expression fades from his face and he grins. He looks younger when he's smiling. "I bet he didn't like that."
"No," you say, thinking back to the several days you spent trapped in the fever-heat of your bedroom, "He didn't."
You touch your neck subconsciously and Kol's gaze follows. He misinterprets the gesture.
"It'll heal," he says, and it's more subdued than he was before. If you didn't know better you would say he was apologetic. (You get the feeling he's not used to it. You're not sure how to take that).
You give him a quick smile. "I know."
You hope that means he's not going to kill you tonight. You wonder if Klaus would really force his brother inside your home just to let him kill you. Then you realize he absolutely would. A wave of something like disappointment falls over you. Strange, considering you don't even really like Klaus.
You hear a knock before your front door bursts open.
"Oh," Klaus says in surprise, "She's still alive."
Kol grins menacingly. "Shocking, I know." He slides off the barstool he's sitting in. "You're back early."
"The Salvatores aren't as clever as they think they are."
"No," Kol says, "I didn't think they were."
Klaus turns to you. "Thank you for looking after my brother, I see all went well." You see his eyes sweep across the bruise you know is painted across your throat. You force yourself to smile.
"Yes," you say dryly, "He's a great kid."
Klaus even laughs at that. Kol doesn't, but he also doesn't kill you. You'll take your wins where you can.
"I had the spell lifted, you're free to go."
Kol rolls his eyes at his brother before stepping out the door. He offers you a half-wave as he leaves.
"Thanks for the madeleines, dearest," he says with a sharp grin. You wrinkle your nose.
"Any time," you lie.
Within half a second he's gone. You see he wasn't lying about vampire speed. Your eyes turn to Klaus, still lingering on your doorstep.
"You know," you say carefully, stepping closer to him, "It's not very good manners to try to kill someone a third time." You suppose if you were feeling gracious the first doesn't really count, since he didn't actually touch you. Just threatened you a bit. (You're not feeling particularly giving at the moment).
"But the other times were alright?"
You let yourself roll your eyes.
"You know what I mean."
"I suspected Kol wouldn't kill you."
You touch the bruise on your neck. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."
He steps inside your house and takes you carefully by the shoulder. You can feel the heat radiating from his palm. You're still surprised by how warm he is— that he's warm at all— but you suppose you don't know that much about vampires to begin with.
"I can heal this, if you like."
His thumb traces over the sensitive skin of your windpipe. Your mind flashes back to him forcing blood down your throat; the exhilaration you felt the morning after.
"Would it be like before?" You ask.
"Yes."
Slowly, you push his hand away. "Then no thank you. I'd rather deal with the sore throat."
He shrugs and takes his hand away.
"Whatever you say."
He offers you a grin and then leaves the way he came.
You spend the rest of your evening eating your pastries and box mac and cheese. You have less madeleines than you thought. Kol, you suspect, is the culprit. You check your neck through the evening. By the time you go to bed, the bruise has darkened to a fiery, mottled purple: the color of crushed blackberries.
Well, you think, at least you lived.
This time.