Kol hadn't braced himself properly against the tile floors of his apartment and goes tumbling to the ground when you launch yourself at him. You land hard on your knees, but can't find it in yourself to care.

"Darling, darling," he laughs, fingers tracing your arm, "I missed you too."

You don't say anything, just clench your fingers around the soft fabric of his shirt like he's going to disappear beneath you. He's alive. You cling to him like he might disappear if you stop. He doesn't mind, at first, but you take too long to respond. His hand pauses in its path.

"Darling?" He sits up, leaning you back in his lap. "What's wrong?"

You can't answer for a long minute. Kol doesn't say anything else, just looks at you with his dark worried eyes and you're so in love with him you can barely breathe. You almost lost him.

It's the first time you've felt real fear at the idea of them getting hurt.

(Because of you.)

"Elijah was going to dagger you. I think he may have daggered Klaus because I haven't seen him since New York."

Kol blinks, an expression that could generously be described as morose and more accurately be described as disappointed passing over his face.

"Elijah," he curses, "Here I thought our family was finally in a position to move past that nonsense."

"I'm sorry, I promise I didn't know— I would never—"

"I know, darling," he says and a less confident you would have marveled at him actually believing you. "I know."

You shiver beneath his touch. You feel a sudden urge to spill any and all secrets you've been keeping— relieve the weight off of your shoulders. Kol can tell, you think, because he looks at you more intently and love-sick than ever. He'll listen. He'll believe you.

"Is there anything else?" he asks carefully, like he's afraid you might break.

In the end, you do. A hairline fracture.

"Klaus might be able to have kids. Marcel gave me his phone number and told me to call him if I needed to escape your family. Elijah was able to compel me and I have no idea how because I've been drinking my tea and I have no idea what to do." you blurt out, voice getting progressively more hysterical.

Kol blinks.

"Well now," he says, "That is a lot."

Kol makes coffee, leftover from the last time you were in his apartment, and plots with you on his too-expensive couch.

"Lets start with the bit about Elijah and Nik."

You take the proffered coffee cup, warmth seeping into your clammy hands. The edge of hysteria still lingers. You keep your ankle pressed against Kol, reassuring yourself that he's really there.

"As good a place as any I guess," you mutter, "Is that something Elijah would do? Dagger Klaus?"

"He can't. The daggers don't work on Nik for long. A few hours, if we're lucky."

"Then where is he?"

Kol doesn't know either. He explains some of it too you— long ago witches and artifacts. Almost nothing things has put down Klaus for long. As it turns out, there are very few things that can harm Niklaus Mikaelson at all. (It's a comfort, but not much.)

"So there's a gold dagger prototype you had a few centuries ago, and you don't know where it is now? And a bone dagger that might work too."

"Or a witch," he tacks on, "but that's unlikely. There's not many that could hold my brother for nearly a fortnight, if any at all."

"So what do we do?"

"Do?" Kol says derisively, "I say we leave him."

You hit his shoulder, making sure not to jostle his coffee cup out of his hands.

"He's your brother!"

"Yes! And he's daggered me more times than I can remember. He deserves a little nap."

You struggle with your answer. Kol's had a thousand years of conflicts with Klaus. You can't say his feelings don't matter or aren't warranted. Instead, you change the subject.

"What do you think about the whole fertility thing? Is it possible?"

"Vampires can't have children."

"But werewolves can, can't they?"

"Yes, but…" Kol trails off, connecting the same dots you did weeks ago. He curses under his breath. "The curse is broken now. Of course. Fate seems to always favor my brother."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," he says absently, "It wouldn't surprise me if it was possible. Nik loves getting to one up us."

"… If it helps," you say hesitantly, unsure of whether you're helping or not, "He didn't seem excited about it."

Kol's expression darkens, the pout of his lips growing more severe. Looks like 'not helping' was the answer.

"Ungrateful bastard. He best not say that around Bex. Does she know?"

"No," you say, "You're the only one I've told. Any of this."

Kol's face does a complicated somersault, eventually landing on looking like he'd very much like to kiss you. He doesn't.

"It appears we have a lot of work to do," he remarks, "You said Elijah compelled you?"

"I don't know," you say, wrapping your arms around a pillow as if to protect yourself, "I think so."

"I could test you," Kol offers, "if you'd like. Check your blood or try to compel you."

Your face goes pale.

"I'm an idiot."

You remember when Klaus bit into you when you first met, the foul hiss that erupted out of him when he tasted the vervain in your blood.

Blood that Rebekah and Elijah both drank without pain.

(Rebekah too?)

"Darling?"

"I've been off of vervain for a while. Maybe before New York, I don't know."

"How do you figure?"

"Elijah and Rebekah both drank from me."

Kol curses.

"Vervain takes time to fade from the system. This was done to you a while ago."

Is it too much to ask for a break? Just a few days off from the drama that has dogged your footsteps for the past nearly 8 months. You're sick of it. Kol must be able to see it on your face because he takes your hand, warm dry palm encasing your own. You can feel the slow heartbeat indicative of a vampire resting beneath his wrist.

"It'll be alright," he promises so earnestly it shines out of his eyes.

"You can't know that."

"Sure I can," he says resolutely, "The first step is sending my family into an eternal sleep."

You pull your hand away from him.

"Finn didn't have any part in this. Or Freya."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine, we'll spare them. Finn's had enough time locked away in my opinion. Everyone else can go."

"Kol."

"Everyone always tries to shoot down my ideas," he complains and the levity fades from his expression, "You should be warned about Marcel."

"Kol, I didn't intend on ever using—"

"I know," he interrupts, "I trust you. But you should know despite my…. personal history with Marcel, I suspect we're going to need him soon."

"Why?"

"Our wretched parents," he says dryly, "If we die, all vampires die and Marcel knows that. Despite how it happened, I wish we had found that out sooner. It works quite nicely as leverage."

You remember how they discovered that.

"Did…" You struggle with the wording, not liking to remember that the man you know died before you ever met. "Did the vampires Finn sired come back to life when he did?"

Kol shakes his head.

"No. You should be glad about that, in fact. If Finn never died you would've had to rip him out of that harlot Sage's hands."

Kol must see the confusion on your face.

"Ah. I take it he never mentioned Sage."

"I don't think so. At least, not by name. Who was she?"

"Some woman he fancied himself in love with," he says dismissively, "Over nine hundred years ago, mind you. She doesn't hold a candle to you, darling."

You look at him wryly.

"You really don't have to protect my ego, Kol. I know you've all had important partners in your life."

"Yes." Kol's eyes grow distant, "Really, it's too bad Marcel isn't head over heels with Bex anymore. It would take the whole situation much easier. Elijah's a fool if he thinks we don't need him and his witches."

"What are you going to do?"

He flashes you a grin.

"What I do best."

He doesn't elaborate. You find you don't really need him too. You curl up tighter on the sofa. Your coffee is lukewarm. You set it aside. Kol watches you all the while, waiting for you to spit out whatever you're tossing around in your head.

"And Elijah?" you ask eventually.

"I'm currently trying to figure out exactly how cruel my revenge on 'Lijah should be," he says distantly, staring out the window before his eyes draw back to you, "How would you feel about running away with me?"

"Kol," you sigh.

"Allow me to plan the logistics."

"We're not going to run away."

"Why not?"

There are a lot of reasons you could give him, and very few he would accept.

"I could steal you," Kol suggests, "You wouldn't be able to share blame, then."

You feel such a large well of affection rise in you that you nearly choke on it.

"Kol," you say, "You wouldn't be able to steal me."

"Why not?"

You don't answer. Can't answer, really— not when he's looking at you so earnestly. He would spirit you away and take the blame. You think he would do anything for you.

You think you'd do anything for him.

Eventually, he gives up.

"We'll get this all sorted."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he says, smile curling at the edges, "I'm assuming you don't want to go back to your house?"

You shake your head.

"Not right now. It feels…"

"Unprotected?"

"Yes."

Kol leans back, spreading his arms wide. "We did put wards up, not that they're effective against my siblings. You're welcome to hide here as long as you like."

You know he would let you stay forever. You take his hand and squeeze it.

"I appreciate it."

Kol smiles, eyes simmering.

The evening comes quickly, speeding towards you in the way time always seems to hasten when you're with Kol. There's no food in Kol's kitchen, just condiments and salt, so you get takeout from the Italian place down the road. They even have tiramisu. You make Kol order two servings and promise to finish his when he doesn't want it.

The best desserts are ones you didn't have to make.

You manage to avoid any talk of murderous parents or sibling betrayals. (More difficult than you expected.) Kol makes it easier. It's been a long time since you've gotten to see him for longer than a few short hours. You eat dinner out of styrofoam containers on Kol's couch, TV playing an obscure C-list horror movie you can't remember the name of and are not following the plot of.

"Can I have some of your risotto?"

"Hm, I don't know. It's not yours."

You open your mouth in fake outrage. "How could you? Don't you know sharing is caring?"

"My parents missed many important lessons."

"Then allow me to be the one to introduce you to this one," you declare grandly and switch your containers before Kol can protest. It's good.

"So?" Kol says, jolting you out of your thoughts, "Do you like it?"

"Yes, you can have it back, though."

"I'm hurt."

You roll your eyes. "Oh shut up."

"Make me," he says, looking at you through dark eyes framed by his extravagantly long eyelashes. You bite your tongue. It's just not fair.

"Could I borrow pajamas," you blurt out instead. Kol laughs, a sudden, rich sound.

"What? Didn't bring a suitcase?"

"Didn't think to, no," you say dryly.

"I believe I have extras laying around somewhere. How are you going to pay for them?"

You withhold the first response that comes to mind.

"I think it would be pretty mean of you to charge me."

Kol's grin stretches wider.

"I suppose you're right. You can have them for free."

You kiss the side of his cheek.

"You're so sweet."

This time it's your turn to pretend not to see the tips of Kol's ears turn the prettiest shade of pink.

You get ready for bed, somehow feeling like the day has lasted an eternity. Well, you think dryly, a lot has happened. Sleep will fix it, you think. At the very least, it can't make it worse.

You come out of Kol's bathroom to see him laying on the couch, pillow stolen from his bed propping his head up. Your forehead wrinkles.

"What are you doing out here?"

Kol looks at you oddly. "The apartment only has one bed— I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch."

You remember when Kol lied his way into your bed when you were really only barely friends. You remember a Kol who strangled you for his own amusement. There's a lot of you in Kol, you think. Or at least, what you used to be. (What you might be becoming again.)

"There's room for two."

Kol's face is almost heartbreaking in its hesitancy. You lead him to bed. Despite his swagger, he has the sense like he's afraid you're going to pull out the rug from under him. You don't. (You wouldn't.)

The first time you shared a bed, Kol didn't dare touch you. He still doesn't now, but you're braver in your desires than you were then.

You reach out.

Kol reaches back.

Your arms wind around him as you rest your head on his chest, hearing his heart beat with blood that isn't his. He shifts to accommodate you, legs entangled with your own. Kol doesn't say anything as you cradle each other. His chest heaves with a deep sigh of contentment— like he's been waiting for this, for you, and he finally got it.

Your heart cleaves in two. You want to say it— to give voice to the enormity of your feelings. Instead, you press a kiss to his collarbone. You settle back into his arms, content to go to sleep. Kol shifts so you're face to face. His hand cups yours and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You trade kisses. His cheek. Your nose. Each eyelid. Neither of you say a word, unwilling to risk the fragility of this moment. You finish with his mouth. You can't draw away. The world fades into into long kisses. It's not like the bruising totality of Kol's kiss when you last saw him— this time something gentler and consuming.

(You love him.)

You fall asleep together.

Kol's apartment is still bare like it was months ago— plain kitchen cabinets, nearly empty fridge. The only place he shows his personality is his room. You like the collection of knick-knacks on his shelves and the truly astounding number of DVDs and VHS tapes in his media center. You think you even spot a collection of U-matics. (Not sure where he got a hold of those.) Some of his decoration is starting to leak out of his room, spilling into his living space through rugs and wall prints.

You think you recognize one of the rugs from the Mikaelson manor. Thief.

Well, Elijah's the one who decorates, so he deserves it. Kol should have stolen two.

"I come bearing breakfast!" Kol announces grandly, bursting through the front door.

"Thank God," you sigh, "I was so hungry."

"Fear not, I also put in an order for groceries. Not that I know what all you need, I was basing it off of my peeks inside your fridge. You can tell me the accuracy of that."

"I trust your tastes."

"You really shouldn't." He picks you up and twirls you around before setting you on a kitchen counter, standing in-between your legs.

"Now, where were we?"

You squirm on the hard granite. "We were about to eat breakfast."

"Ah, yes. How silly of me."

He doesn't let you off of the counter, lingering there for a long moment. It should be illegal— his face and eyes and the dimples at the corner of his mouth. Really, it's too much for one person. Kol knows it too. He waits there too long, taunting you, before backing away. You hop down and land hard on your feet.

"I also got an order of what the menu referred to as 'Old Bobby's fried pancake balls'. Do Americans really have to name things so terribly?" Kol continues, wrinkling his nose at the name.

"Yes," you say dryly, "But good idea getting them."

"Yes," he says sagely, "I thought so."

The pancake balls are, you find out together, filled with nutella. You feast on your omelette and bacon. Kol doesn't have tea in his apartment— certainly not your vervain tea that has apparently gone missing. You miss it.

(You wonder how long it's been replaced with some other herb. You assume Elijah is the one who switched them. Though, you counter, Rebekah drank from you first. She wouldn't have done that if she'd known you were on vervain, right? That kind of pain is not something you forget. But she never tried to compel you, not like Elijah did at the end.)

Well, you think, shivering— you wouldn't know.

"How does compulsion work?" you ask, breaking the pleasant silence of your meal.

"In what way?"

"Well," you say slowly, "It's not just telling someone to do something, right? Stefan said Klaus compelled him to forget he knew him."

"Are you worried that one of my siblings tampered with your memory?"

You shift in your seat, not quite sure how to answer the question without being rude. But Kol, of all people, should understand not trusting his siblings. In the end, you just shrug.

"I wouldn't know, right?" you say trepidatiously. Something like anger storms over Kol's face, not directed at you. It's nice, you note, that someone feels righteously indignant on your behalf. Eventually, he seems to come to a decision.

"Do you trust me?"

Your eyebrows furrow. "Of course."

"I can try to compel you to remember anything that may be missing."

"And that'll work?"

"Other vampires couldn't," Kol says dismissively, "But since we all have similar strength in our compulsions we can often undo each other's."

You're not sure what to say. The idea of someone controlling you (again) riles.

But it's Kol.

"I'll do it."

Kol scoots his chair around the table, breakfast laying abandoned, and takes your hands. It's not necessary, but it stops the tremors rattling up your wrists.

His eyes are so pretty, you realize and then your mind goes blank.

Kol says something.

"What were we talking about?" you ask.

"Did you remember anything? Any new memories?"

You don't think so. You don't remember any of the Mikaelsons trying to compel you, successful or otherwise. (Well, other than Elijah). But you suddenly remember things you thought you had forgotten. The school librarian's name from when you were in second grade. The taste of a popsicle ten years ago. And—

"I remember my dreams about Freya."

Kol blinks.

"That is unexpected. What do you remember?"

It's hard to quantify memories. You vaguely remember nightly conversations that you lost whenever you awoke— conversations Freya still remembers. You were friends, you think. At least, as close as friends you can be when talking to a witch in a coma. There was something else, something you can't remember— some dark shroud over your dreams, tainting them.

"I think there was someone else there, someone Freya was afraid of."

From Kol's face, he doesn't know who the mystery figure is. He looks like either way the answer won't be good.

"I'll ask her about it next time I see her. I was planning on enticing her to come to New Orleans with me."

"Yes," you say absently, "That would be nice."

The groceries arrive on Kol's doorstep late afternoon. It's more food than you'll consume unless you stay here for three weeks or Kol starts consuming human food on a regular basis. There's canned vegetables and whole wheat bread and an assortment of baking ingredients including baking powder and molasses. You pull out heavy cream and rock salt.

"Want to make ice cream?"

Kol shrugs.

It's easy to set up, there are ziplock bags in the drawers, abandoned by the previous tenant, and the empty coffee drum from last time. You take ice from the freezer and dump it in the container.

"Do you make ice cream like this often?"

"No. We did this in high school chemistry. At work we had proper ice cream makers."

"Ah," Kol says dryly, "So I'm just free labor."

You grin at him.

"Pretty much. You're a good shaker."

Kol rolls his eyes, but continues shaking the plastic container of cream, salt, and ice.

"A thousand years and this is what my talents are being used for. I'm talented with magic, you know."

"Think of this as a kind of magic where we get to eat it at the end."

"I don't recommend eating magic."

"Sounds like you're a quitter."

Kol lets out his special brand of exasperated sigh.

"Here, stop," you say, getting two spoons out of the drawer, "Let's try it."

The ice cream is good, vanilla bean flavor melting on your tongue. Kol even seems to enjoy it. You'll get him to like human food if it's the last thing you do.

"Darling," Kol says, breaking you out of your thoughts, "You're making a mess."

You flush at his curved smile, cold ice cream leaving a smear on your neck even after you wipe it off.

"You still missed some," Kol says, amused, "Here."

He takes a napkin wipes it off for you, face inches from your own. You swallow and pretend Kol doesn't notice.

He doesn't let you pretend.

Kol drips more ice cream on your neck, his thumb tracing your pulse point until you abort any effort at carrying on a normal conversation. It's not like last night with soft gentle kisses and no inclination of anything more. This makes you ache.

"Kol," you warn. Or at least— you try to. Your voice cracks into something breathy and weak. He just hums.

"You're a mess." He pulls your head to the side to lick up the side of your neck.

"Kol!"

"Just cleaning you up, beloved," he murmurs. You cling to him in the same way you did last night— like he might disappear if you let him go. This time, though, there's an undercurrent of want and need for him to meld under your skin.

"You're beautiful," he rasps against your ear, "I've wanted you since I first met you."

You huff an unconvincing laugh— too breathy and high pitched. "Liar."

"It's true," he says and presses another kiss to the joint of your neck, "You were so earnest and quick-witted and quite rude and kind." He pulls his head back to look at you. "I had no choice but to love you."

"Kol."

"I know."

Kol just stands there kissing you until you have to beg him to take you to bed. Even then, he pulls back to look at you so intently and heartsick you think you might burst.

"Are you sure?" he asks. You tug his hair.

"Absolutely positive."

Kol grins, wicked.

Kol doesn't tear you apart like you expected, just slowly unravels you so lovingly it brings you to tears. He languishes in your kisses, pressing your body against his until there's no part of you that isn't touching— no part of you that's not his. You rock into each other slowly, feel him stiffening against your hip. It's so loving that it makes you want to cry. You feel safe in his arms. (You are safe in his arms.)

When he finally slips inside, it is the feeling of completion— of coming home. You gasp into his mouth, mind blank and unable to remember how to speak.

"Are you okay, darling?"

You nod when your voice refuses to obey.

"Please," you manage to rasp.

Kol fucks you slowly— luxuriating in it. You lose track of time, of anything that came before this. You grow so warm you can feel it in your chest. Heat builds in your bones. Kol groans loudly when your nails bite into his back. You do it again, harder.

He gasps your name, sending a shiver down your spine.

Hm.

You tease your hand through his hair, gripping at the base, and tug to the point of pain. Kol's hips jerk against you erratically, head falling to your shoulder when you let go.

"You're a menace," he groans against your skin. His arm slips under your back to hold you against him, sucking bruises onto your neck. For a brief moment, right before you come, you wished he would bite down. Kol growls as you go boneless in the aftershocks, hoisting you up by your waist and fucking you to mutual satisfaction. He's faster, this time— more urgent. You couldn't move if you tried; you give up on your useless muscles and let Kol drive you toward another orgasm, muscles contracting almost painfully around his cock.

You cling onto his neck until he comes. He rests his forehead on yours, sticky with sweat. You hold him after, silent contentment filling the darkness.

You're grateful for all the Mikaelsons, of course. All of them care for you in their burning and endless way. They would kill for you. You think Kol is the only one who would die for you. (You would die for him.)

"I think I loved you first, you know," you whisper in the quiet stillness of the room, "I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Kol's heart stops in its tracks before thundering in your ear. He rolls you over onto your side so he can face you.

"Do you mean that?" he asks, tone carefully even.

You can't see his face clearly in the darkness, just the soft blurred outline of his hair. You cup his cheek, feeling warm skin against your palm.

"Yes."

"Say it again," he begs, and his voice is so fragile you think it would shatter if you said the wrong thing.

"I love you."

Kol's face breaks into something heartbreakingly happy. He rolls you over and presses a kiss against your lips, murmuring a response over and over.

And over.

Hi guys! Yes this took 2 months but at least it's like 4400 words lol.