You wake up alone and blink in the morning sunlight. The house is quiet. You suspect Kol has left long before you find his note in the kitchen.
(Dearest, it says, Enjoy the new records. I'll see you tonight). He signs it with a cursive K.
How dramatic.
You check the living room. There's a crate full of records. They're still in their packaging. It's not an apology gift, you tell yourself. You put on a Frank Sinatra album. Kol's movies sit on your bookshelf now, arranged in an order you can't begin to decode.
You get most of your cooking prep done early. You decide on chicken with a piccata sauce and a sourdough boule. Kneading, you reflect, helps you think.
Seems that's all you're doing nowadays.
You think about Kol. You've never been the center of attention, not like this. You feel like you're being ripped apart at the seams and each Mikaelson sibling is holding a limb. (If the metaphor holds, you're also losing a button eye and most of your stuffing).
You wonder what it's like to be a thousand years old and so starved for normalcy you invade a random baker's life.
Outside, the late autumn has slipped into winter. You've always liked winter. The cold in Virginia, the snow coming off mountain tops. Still, you're less of a fan of the cold seeping into your house. You wish you had a fire place. You still need to put cling film over the windows. The cold creeps over you as you curl up in the living room with your space heater and a stack of Elijah's books. You wait for the dough to rise.
Everything is in the oven by the time Rebekah gets there. You're midst cleaning up when there's a knock on your door.
"You know," you say, wiping your hands on a hand towel, "I feel like there's not any point to locking my door anymore."
Rebekah shrugs. "We can get in either way."
"Threatening," you comment dryly, "Why are you here early?"
"I told you I was going to help you get dressed."
You're well aware it's dangerous to taunt a vampire. Especially when Rebekah admitted she considered killing you two nights ago. Some part of you can't help itself. "And I believe I told you I'm capable of getting dressed on my own."
"Not from what I see."
Your nose wrinkles. "Uncalled for."
"Can I at least get you to wear pants that aren't made from denim?"
You blow out a sigh through your nose. "Fine," you say and she grins. You double check everything in the oven before she drags you to your room. Your bed is unmade, Kol's side still rumpled.
"You own very few clothes."
"I don't go out a lot," you say mildly, "And I wear the same things to work."
Rebekah's expression of disgust, if even possible, deepens.
"That's no excuse. You should at least have a few formal dresses."
Your amusement heightens. This is the most emotion you've seen from her so far.
"I'm not going to a lot of black-tie events, Rebekah." She sniffs.
"We'll fix that."
"Before or after I'm no longer trapped in this house?"
"Hm," Rebekah says, "I'm more inclined to have the Salvatores killed when fashion is on the line."
You're not sure if she's joking. "Please don't have anyone killed on my behalf." Rebekah grins, sharp.
"Oh, it wouldn't just be for you," she says, "Damon Salvatore is a thorn in my side."
"Yeah," you say, thinking back to when he cornered you in the parking lot outside your work, "He's a thorn in mine, too."
Rebekah is quiet for a moment.
"What about these?" She asks, pulling out a pair of tan dress pants you haven't had the opportunity to wear in years. She holds it up to you, hands lightly brushing your waist. The warmth of her skin presses into yours. You flush.
"Sure."
She picks out a belt and necklace for you too and you let her. You start to suspect that this is how Rebekah bonds. (You're willing to make that sacrifice. You can't only befriend three out of four Mikaelsons. It feels like cheating). You get dressed and go back into the kitchen. Rebekah is sitting at the breakfast bar. You check the oven and take out the boule, leaving it to rest on the counter.
"Rebekah," you can't stop yourself from saying, "Why did you end up coming over so early?"
She tilts her head. "To help you get dressed."
"I am an adult," you say dryly, "What's the real reason?"
She seems to bristle and shrink at the same time.
"I don't have a lot of friends," she admits, "And you're fairly low stakes."
"How so?"
"You're human and not important." Ouch. You can tell Rebekah doesn't mean it as an insult, which is the strange part. Rebekah grimaces like she didn't mean to say that. "I mean you're not involved in any doppelgänger plots, or working with our enemies. It's… not unpleasant."
You hear what she's not saying.
"And that also means you can kill me without repercussions if this spirals."
Rebekah nods. "That too."
The past few weeks alone, you've had one too many brushes with death for your taste.
"It's a good thing everyone's coming over tonight," you say dryly, "I feel like we need to talk about your family's first response being murder."
"Good luck with that," she says, "It's difficult to undo a thousand years of habit."
You're suddenly struck with an insatiable curiosity to know what they were all like when they were human. (More research for your vampire dissertation that will never see the light of a peer review). "What were you guys like before you were vampires?" You hear yourself asking. Rebekah, thankfully, takes it in stride.
"Innocent, I suppose," she muses, "As much as we could be with our father."
Her expression is carefully crafted glass. Were you someone else, you wouldn't have noticed anything out of the ordinary. You're well acquainted with this particular kind of hurt.
You want to comfort her. You hesitate too long and the moment passes.
"I think something's burning," she says, expression flickering. Nothing is, but you let her use it as an excuse.
"Looks like the chicken's ready," you say with a hum.
Like clockwork, there's a knock on your door before it swings open.
"I think that's the first time you've ever knocked."
"That is blatantly untrue," Klaus says. Elijah files in your house after him.
"Where's Kol?"
Elijah hums. "He should be here."
"Did someone say my name?"
Kol appears on your doorstep.
"Hi Kol," you say mildly, "Glad you could all make it."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Klaus's eyes slide over to Rebekah still sitting on your barstool.
"I hope you still feel that way come dessert," you say dryly. Klaus's eyebrows quirk up, but he doesn't say anything.
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Elijah asks, ever the gentleman.
You shake your head. "I've already set up the table. I'd offer to hang up your coats, but apparently they're too conventional for vampires."
"We don't feel the cold like you do, love."
You bite back a remark that you're sure would go over their heads.
"If that's the case, then get your plates," you say dryly, "Dinner's ready."
Rebekah gets off her barstool to guide the rest of them towards the dining room. Klaus lingers in your kitchen. Your warm lights reflect off his cheekbones, throwing him into less harsh light. He looks more human like this, you think.
It's been so long since you've seen him.
(It's only been a few weeks, you scold yourself).
"I see my sister disobeyed me while I was incapacitated," he says. You don't like the sharpness in his voice.
"Don't blame her, she was nothing but polite."
You gloss over the part where she originally planned to kill you.
"You're lucky you survived."
You look at him evenly. "Klaus," you say dryly, "All of you, save Elijah, have tried to kill me."
He laughs, a low sound that's warm in its undertones. "Perhaps you have a point there." He pulls something out of his pocket, a browned piece of parchment that's almost bisected by a tear from being folded and unfolded repeatedly. "I did remember that macaron recipe," he says, "I was somewhat surprised I still had it."
He offers it to you and you take it carefully. An unidentifiable feeling wells in your chest.
"Thank you," you say.
He smiles a gentle grin. "It's no trouble at all."
Rebekah steps back into the kitchen and you take a step away from the blackhole that is Klaus Mikaelson.
"I'll be sure and make these soon," you say and your voice is even normal.
He grins. "You better."
Rebekah looks at you with uninterpretable eyes. You take her plate in place of words.
The Mikaelsons, you're surprised to note, are surprisingly considerate guests when they're all together. You suspect they're on their best behavior.
"This is wonderful," Elijah comments and you smile. He's seated next to Klaus, shoved out of the way when Rebekah and Kol claimed the seats directly next to yours.
"Thank you," you say, "Practice makes perfect, or so I'm told."
And you don't have nearly enough practice at the balancing act that is dealing with the Mikaelson family.
"So what exactly did you want to discuss tonight?" Kol asks. You're surprised he's the one to break first.
"I'm afraid you'll have to wait until dessert for that," you say mildly.
"Forgive me if I don't carry fond memories of dinner parties."
You recall a snippet from Elijah and Rebekah's conversation.
"Well I can promise I haven't poisoned any of you."
They tense and you pause.
"That joke missed the mark," you comment.
"We've had…" Elijah says, "Less than desirable prior experiences."
"You mean when our Mother tried to kill us?" Kol remarks, "Or when she did kill us?"
Your spoon drops.
"Oh my God," you blurt out.
Elijah just sighs.
"Must you bring it up in front of our new friend?"
"She can take it."
Klaus twitches across from you. You don't know what to make of that.
"Well," you say lightly, "If it makes you feel any better I don't even know where I would find poison." (You still don't consider Vervain poison. You just don't think you should be able to buy poison at the grocery store unless it's in the cleaning section).
"She does have a point. I don't think she could find it in her to hurt us if the devil came and bit her on the ass."
"Kol!" Elijah reprimands, "Language."
All of the Mikaelson siblings roll their eyes. You stifle a laugh.
Watching the Mikaelsons interact is fascinating to you. They talk in circles with the foreknowledge of what the other person is going to say. You wonder what it's like to know someone that deeply; to be known in return. You can see why Elijah's game of chess has gone on centuries, even without Klaus's blatant cheating.
You know the Mikaelsons have the disagreements. More, you suspect, than any other family on Earth. But you can see the way they love each other. It strikes something bittersweet inside of you. (The knowledge you will never have anything like they have… hurts).
You realize you zoned out when you wake back up in the middle of an argument.
"My apologies," Elijah says, sounding unapologetic, "It's a hobby of mine."
"Sure," Klaus speaks up, "If you can call destroying my studio a hobby."
"If you wouldn't leave it such a mess, I wouldn't have to."
Klaus scowls. "You threw out my artist's bench."
"It was covered in paint, Niklaus."
"It's meant to be!" He says, exasperated, "This is why I had new locks installed."
Elijah takes a sip of wine, but you can see the smile curving under the glass.
"Is this what all siblings are like?" You ask and all attention turns to you.
"To an extent," Klaus says, "I refuse to believe anyone else's family is as irritating as mine."
"Do you not have any?" Rebekah asks, horrified.
You shrug. "Only child."
"There aren't any family pictures in your home," Klaus comments.
This is getting dangerously close to uncomfortable territory. You look at him, gaze flat. He returns it and drinks from his wine. His eyes glitter with erratic energy.
"Just trying to learn more about our new human friend."
"Why?"
"Nik—" Rebekah interjects, but he ignores her.
"Is it such a crime?" He asks, glancing towards Rebekah, "You're avoiding the question."
You rest your forearms on the table.
"Let me make you a deal," you say lightly, "If you don't ask about my parents, I won't ask about yours."
Klaus stiffens in his seat. You feel some kind of savage satisfaction at his reaction. You break eye contact to look around the table. Everyone is nearly done with their dinner.
"I have dessert ready, if everyone wants to join me in the living room."
You're the first to get up. Bad etiquette, you're aware, but you need to leave that room before your muscles turn into knots from nervous anticipation. You take a moment in the kitchen to get yourself together
If you're being honest, you'd need more than a minute. Every once in a while, you're fine for long enough you think that particular wound has healed. Something always has to happen to prove you wrong.
When the Mikaelsons file into your kitchen, Klaus looks significantly more subdued. You wonder what they said to him.
"I hope you all like blackberry," you say. You place chocolate liquor twists over the white chocolate ganache. You plate up the cakes and carry them to the living room. Elijah helps you.
"Also Rebekah," you say dryly as you sit in one of your arm chairs, "I believe I only gave you permission to get a dining table." You refuse to admit to her that you love the settee.
She gives a graceful shrug before falling onto the velvet couch. "Forgive me for not wanting to stand. There are too many of us and your house is small."
"Rebekah," Elijah admonishes.
"It's alright, Elijah," you say with some level of amusement, "She's right."
Your living room was fairly empty, before. You suspect the Mikaelsons will work against your wishes to fill it. Kol stands while he eats his cake, rifling through your belongings. You momentarily wonder if he doesn't understand boundaries or if he chooses not to.
"Frank Sinatra?" Kol questions with some vague disgust.
"Why would you get me a record you don't even like?"
He shrugs. "I didn't know your taste."
"When did you get a record player?" Rebekah questions.
"Kol dropped it off yesterday."
Rebekah looks at him with accusing eyes.
"So that's where you were hiding," she chastises him, "I went looking for you last night."
Klaus turns his head to look at you. "He stayed the night?"
This sounds like an argument you're not going to get in the middle of. You tilt your head and get sidetracked when Elijah hums. You're grateful for his interruption.
"This is amazing," he comments, "What recipe did you use?"
"Just something I've created over the years."
"Elijah's right," Rebekah says, "This is amazing."
"Yes, yes," Klaus says impatiently, "We've already established you're an accomplished pastry chef, can we please move onto the portion of the evening where you tell us why we're here."
"What makes you think I didn't just miss you?"
Rebekah laughs at that. Her eyes glitter with sharp amusement.
You put your plate aside. "I suppose you are right, though," you admit, "I've been stalling. I don't really know how to have this conversation."
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Elijah offers. You're surprised he gives you an out.
"No, that would probably be worse." You look into your cake for a moment and you feel the heat of their eyes on you. "I know that our relationship must not seem that strange to you, but it is to me. I'm not used to any of this."
"Is this your way of telling us you want us out of your life?" Klaus asks and his voice is dangerously even.
"Surprisingly, no," you say dryly, "I've unfortunately started to like you all. What I did want to discuss is that I think we need to put some boundaries in place."
Aside from you, Klaus's face darkens. Elijah's eyebrows raise minutely.
"Go on," he says. You take a deep breath.
"I know you're all vampires and are intrinsically different from me, but I would appreciate it if you keep the violence to a minimum in my house."
They mull it over.
"I'd also appreciate it if you would let me know when you're coming over. I do have a life outside of you all."
Klaus in particular looks like he doesn't approve.
"Fine," he says grudgingly, "Anything else?"
"Get Damon Salvatore under control," you state blandly, "Or I will never bake anything for you ever again."
"That," Elijah says, "Is a fair request."
"Alright," Klaus says, leaning back in his chair, "What do you recommend?"
"I don't know," you say honestly, "Why do the Salvatores hate you so much?"
Kol laughs.
"It might be easier to explain why they don't. Nik has only tried to kill their precious girlfriend a dozen times over."
"I have only killed Elena once," he denies, "And it was necessary to break the curse."
You want to ask about that, but you probably shouldn't.
"It was the Salvatores' decision to keep harassing us," Klaus continues, "I would have left them alone once I had what I wanted."
"Let's not forget how they're trying to wake Silas," Kol interjects.
"He's likely a myth."
"Likely isn't good enough."
"This is a lot to unpack."
"Yes," Rebekah echos, "Imagine how we feel."
"I'd rather not," you say dryly, "What else have you done to them recently?"
Klaus is silent. "Niklaus," Elijah says after a moment, "Didn't you compel Stefan to go on a murder spree with you across the country?"
"Who's Stefan?"
"Damon's brother," Kol says, "He's incredibly dull."
"I resent that," Klaus says, pointing at Kol with a fork, "We were once friends."
"Sorry, I must have missed that when I was locked in a box."
"Is anyone going to explain what the hell that means?"
The Mikaelsons fall silently and Klaus seems to be trying very hard to avoid everyone's gaze again.
"I'm taking that as a no."
"Devil knows our brother doesn't like to take accountability," Kol snarks. Klaus looks up sharply and rises out of his chair.
"You test me, brother."
"New rule!" You say, raising your voice, "No fighting in my house." Klaus backs away and sits down.
"It is incredibly impolite," Elijah says. You nod at him.
"Thank you. Is there anyway you all could make peace with the Salvatores? At least to the point where they won't go after me?"
There's a brief pause.
"… Doubtful," Klaus admits.
"Can you try?"
Rebekah snorts. "You're asking our brother to give up his pride, dearest," she says, "He only does that once every millennia."
This is going about how you expected it to go. Not well.
"In all honesty," Elijah says, "You are safer now than if we tried to bargain for your safety. Currently, I doubt you're a high priority."
You trap a sigh before it can escape.
"Any chance you guys have anything I can use for protection?"
They all turn to look at Kol.
"What?" He asks, "I've been in a coffin for the past century, all of my witch contacts are dead."
"We both know that isn't true."
Kol shifts under Klaus's accusing gaze. His eyes slip to the side.
"… I may know a few people who could help," he evades, "I'll have to see."
"I would appreciate it," you say and Kol's expression mutates into something uninterpretable.
"Whatever," he says and he slips a new record into your player. (You really wonder why he chose Wham! of all things).
"Is anyone still scrying for me or anything?" You ask.
Klaus shakes his head. "Not in a while. They've had… other things on their minds."
Not asking about that either. Willful ignorance is needed if you want to keep being friends with the Mikaelsons.
"If you truly need to leave," Elijah says, "It's best if one of us is with you. At least until Kol's witch contacts come through."
Rebekah alights with glittering eyes.
"I'll volunteer," she announces, "I need to get out of the house."
"You just want to go shopping."
Rebekah shrugs carelessly.
"I could go too," Kol comments, "You emptied my record collection."
Klaus rolls his eyes skyward.
"I get a witch to spell the house so you're safe and this is the thanks I get? You plan a shopping trip?"
You reach over and take his hand.
"You are also the reason they want to kill me," you say, "Man up."
Klaus just sighs.
The Mikaelsons finish their cake while Rebekah and Kol make vague plans for tomorrow. You're wary about the idea of leaving the sanctity of your home, despite what you said to Klaus. You want to be able to go out onto your porch again. (More importantly, you need to get ahold of Kate. You have very few people you can confide in, and no one who would understand what's happening in your life right now. You'll take what little help you can get).
Rebekah and Kol leave first. If you didn't know better, you would suspect they were twins. They pause by the door and Kol presses a kiss on your cheek and Rebekah gives you a calculating look.
"You're alright, I suppose."
She hugs you quick and she's gone before you can blink. Elijah lingers under the pretense of cleaning up. Klaus stays in his arm chair, sprawled like he owns it.
"That went surprisingly well," he comments. You arch an eyebrow.
"Did you not expect it to?"
"Not at all," he says with a pleasant smile, "I didn't expect them to like you."
"Didn't expect or didn't intend?"
His smile falters. He looks at you with dark eyes.
"You see too much," he comments. You raise your glass to him.
"You're not very subtle."
"Aren't I?" He takes a sip from his glass.
You're struck with a moment of doubt.
"I wouldn't know," you admit, "I see whatever side you choose to let me see."
"Doesn't that frighten you?"
"You always frighten me."
Klaus's lips curl into a frightening smile.
"And yet you still associate with me," he comments, "You've even befriended my family."
(Why haven't you run, you can tell he wants to ask).
"Just because you scare me sometimes doesn't mean we aren't friends," you answer.
Are you friends?
You think you're allowed to call him that.
Klaus seems to accept your answer, but not without some measure of suspicion. (You reflect back on Elijah telling you Klaus doesn't have good judgement. You suspect that the elder Mikaelson has it wrong. Klaus plans contingencies upon contingencies until the entire world bows to his web of plans).
"Don't let Rebekah and Kol drive you insane tomorrow," he says, "It would be tragic if I lost you to my siblings."
"Don't worry," you say without thinking, "You'll always be my favorite."
It's a joke, but Klaus takes it seriously.
"How kind of you," he says, but his lips twitch into a smile, "I would've expected Elijah."
"No," you disagree, "Only because he hasn't brought me any recipes."
A faint smile passes over his face.
"I'll be sure and bring more."
Elijah comes out of the kitchen. You're not sure how good vampire hearing is, but you suspect Elijah heard every word.
"Be careful tomorrow," he advises, "Kol and Rebekah should be protection enough. Don't leave their sight."
"Elijah," you say, "I never knew you cared."
He doesn't reply but his lips twitch.
"Niklaus," he says, "I do believe we have some business to take care of."
Nice segue.
Klaus takes you by the hand before he leaves, Elijah stood out on the porch. His eyes scan you.
"I'll be back soon," he says, "Try to avoid trouble."
"You're the only trouble I haven't managed to avoid."
He smiles and leaves.
Elijah did a good job of cleaning up. You start the dishwasher and relax in the quiet of your home. The dinner went better than you expected. (Certainly less violence than you're used to).
Still, you feel odd.
You weren't expecting them to give in that easily.
Is it suspicious, then, that they did?
You don't know. You don't know a lot of things when it comes to the Mikaelsons. At some point you should probably learn to accept that.
You get ready for bed and there's something on your freshly-made bed. You can't imagine any of the Mikaelson's making your bed. Rebekah, you suspect, is the only one who would get you such an extensive variety of bath salts and perfumes.
You don't even have a bathtub.
You open one of the lotions and inhale deeply. Vanilla and honeysuckle. Idly, you wonder how she knew your favorite scents.
You should have known Rebekah would circumvent your request to not buy you things.
Well, you can't have it all.
Hope you guys like the chapter! I'll be switching to an every-other-week update schedule for the forseeable future bc my class load has gotten hectic. Love y'all