Anonymous on Tumblr sent me an ask from a family prompt meme "' stop squirming and let me see that cut!' for marcel in "Don't you cry no more"". Decided to combine it with numberonebaka's request for "Maybe Jer gets hurt and Ty panics and is too scared to tell Klaus so he gets marcel and marcel is the best big brother so he handles everything really well"
TW: Mentions of blood
April 18th, 2010
Marcel settles into the recliner in the living room, a good mystery in his grip. The book is due back at the library tomorrow and he's nowhere close to being finished. Between dropping, volunteer work, family and friends, he just hasn't had the time. But it's a quiet, rainy Saturday afternoon. He's free to curl up with a good book. Marcel pulls up the burgundy throw and opens to the page the bookmark is in.
"Bubby!"
Marcel drops the book the moment Tyler's voice echoes from downstairs. The frequency in his step only intensifies when he makes out Jeremy's blood. He's soon in Klaus' ensuite. Jeremy stands by the sink. His face is covered in shaving cream but a patch is clear, with blood dripping down. Tyler's lip quivers as he frantically waves his hand. Marcel spots a razor in Jeremy's hand, also covered in blood.
"What the hell happened?" Marcel vamps over, taking his youngest brother's face in his hand. Jeremy is shaking. Fat tears fall down his face as he wails and kicks his legs.
"Jer…Jer wanted to shave," Tyler mumbles. "Like we do with Daddy." Marcel pinches the bridge of his nose. Tyler's eyes grow wider. "I…I messed up?"
"Yeah, you did." Marcel doesn't realize his voice is probably as sharp as the razor that cut Jeremy's cheek. "When Papa lets you two "shave" with him. He takes the blade out." Jeremy and Tyler tilt their heads, clearly confused. "The fact that you two don't understand proves my point. You are far too young to be playing with razors!"
Tyler whimpers, looking at the ground. Jeremy continues to wail. The blood still falls. Shaving cream is smeared across not just the sink but Jeremy and Tyler's clothes. Marcel takes a deep breath. One crisis at a time. He grabs the razor and snaps it in half, tossing it in the waste basket.
Marcel sinks his fangs into his wrist and holds it out to Jeremy. It's not often they use vampire blood to cure him, but this cut looks deep. There'll be stitches if he doesn't step in.
"Drink, little buddy," he insists. Jeremy shakes his head, clamping his mouth shut. This is one of the many reasons they often don't use blood. When Jeremy's dropped, he gets scared. "Yes, JerBear. If you don't drink this, I'll have to take you to the hospital."
Realistically, he should get his papa. But he also knows Klaus has been trying to fix the painting that Marcel destroyed in his last temper tantrum. He can tackle this.
Jeremy reluctantly takes a few sips of blood. Marcel watches the cut subside. With it, Jeremy's tears lighten. He sniffles and rubs at his nose, spreading the shaving cream. Marcel wets a rag and uses it to clean his face. Jeremy wiggles. Soft hiccups come out.
"Stop it, Bubby," he whines.
"You need to get all cleaned." He makes sure it's all cleared up and that the cut is truly healed. "There, all better."
Jeremy is still sniffling and carrying on, but Marcel turns his attention to Tyler. The middle brother sits on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. He's got tears of his own falling. Marcel sighs and drops in front of him. He runs his fingers through the back of Tyler's hair.
"Daddy's gonna be mad," Tyler whispers.
"Is that why you got me?"
Tyler nods. "I found his razors. I let Jeremy do it. That wasn't smart."
"I'm glad you see that now." Marcel gently pulls Jeremy onto one knee, Tyler on the other. His sniveling brothers rest against him. "You two can't play with razors when you're dropped. That is very dangerous and they are very sharp. Something a lot worse could've happened today."
"Wanna be like Daddy," Jeremy mumbles. "And you and TyTy."
"You will one day," Marcel promises, patting his baby soft cheek. "But you're not quite there yet."
"It's not fair," Jeremy whines. "I wanna be a big boy."
Marcel softly chuckles. "I thought you liked being the baby? You have daddy wrapped around your little finger."
Jeremy shrugs. Marcel knows he'll appreciate it soon. Likely, Klaus will be more worried than angry with his sons. He'll fuss over Jeremy and won't let him leave his sight for at least the rest of the night.
Tyler is already punishing himself far more than Klaus ever could. That poor boy takes everything to heart. He blames himself for the smallest of things. Marcel wishes more than anything he could understand his psyche.
"Daddy's gonna yell," Tyler says, his lip quivering.
Marcel shakes his head. "No he won't."
"Jer got hurt. It's all my fault."
Marcel bounces the knee he's on to soothe him. "Jeremy made his own choices." He looks down at his youngest brother. Jeremy's biting his lip. "I know you wanted to be like us, but that wasn't smart."
"Dumb baby," Jeremy mumbles, rubbing his fist against his eye.
"No, no, not a dumb baby. You made a mistake. Both of you did. But that's okay. You're little. Little boys are going to make mistakes. Papa won't be too mad."
"How do you know?" Tyler asks, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Marcel can't help but chuckle. "Well, when I was just a little younger than Jeremy, I did something very similar…"
December 7th, 1823
Marcellus' face is lathered up with soap, just as he's watched his papa and uncle do a million times. He moves his chin around. A small smile is across his face. He's 13 now. A proper teenager. According to his new friend, Arthur, this is around the age where some boys begin to shave. It shows they're young men.
He's not a baby anymore. Maybe this will show his papa how grown up he is!
Holding the straight razor in hand, he delicately holds it to his cheek. Instantly, pain shoots through his face. He drops the razor to the ground. A quick look in the mirror proves his worst fear: blood is pouring from the scrape. Marcellus whimpers as tears gather in his eye.
A sudden woosh takes over the room. Marcellus instantly tries to dash away, but his papa is too quick. Klaus pulls him close. Marcellus moves his head and kicks his legs.
"Stop it," Klaus demands. Marcellus tries to get out of the way faster. "Marcellus!" Like a petulant child, Marcellus continues to push at his hand. His papa gives up most of the time! He doesn't have to listen to him right now. Maybe if he kicks up enough of a fuss, Klaus will go away. "Stop squirming and let me see that cut!"
When Marcellus doesn't comply, Klaus scoops him up by the waist and settles him on the sink. The 13-year-old continues to kick his legs.
"Marcellus, if you do not let me look at that cut, I shall fetch your uncle Elijah."
That's enough to still him. He already got a spanking the night before because he wouldn't tidy up his room. Klaus exhales and turns the boy's head so he can look. Marcellus whimpers. Klaus frowns. He softly coos comforting words. Marcellus doesn't even argue about being talked to like a baby. Instead, he rubs at his nose with his thumb.
"It hurts."
"I can imagine so. How…"
Klaus trails off as he glances at the floor. He hooks an arm around Marcellus to keep him from falling and grabs it. Klaus purses his lips when he sees the sharp blade covered in blood. He quickly tosses it into the basin and shakes his head.
Within one quick movement, Marcellus has his father's wrist pressed to his lips. He knows better by now than to fuss any longer. Little by little, the pain disappears. Soon, he can no longer feel the blood.
"There, all better," Klaus proclaims.
Marcellus is bright enough to know that it's not over. So, he's not surprised when he's shifted onto his papa's hip. That doesn't stop him from whining once again.
"I'm not a baby."
"I clearly cannot trust you alone, so you shall stay with your Papa."
Marcellus is carried through to Klaus' chambers. The original hybrid settles onto the bed. He turns Marcellus so he's facing him while nestled on his lap. Klaus strokes the cheek that was once wounded.
"Tell me what was going on in that silly head of yours," he says.
Marcellus shrugs. He's still sniffling a bit. Klaus retrieves his handkerchief and instructs him to blow. The young boy doesn't speak until he has.
"I am ready to shave, Papa."
Klaus smiles. "In order to shave, you need facial hair, Little Warrior."
"I have some!" Marcellus argues. He points to his smooth cheek. "Right there!"
"Marcellus, you are aware that your papa may be old but his eyesight is perhaps the best in the universe. I see nary a hair."
Marcellus huffs, folding his arms over his chest. "You think I am a little boy. I'm grown, Papa."
"Grown, hm? Well, if you insist, then I suppose you are."
Marcellus narrows his eyes. Why does his papa insist on talking to him like that? He's serious!
"However," Klaus continues. "Grown or not, that does not mean you need to shave yet. Those razors are sharp, Marcellus. You could have severely hurt yourself. What if I had not reached you in time?"
Marcellus shrugs, looking down at his trousers. Klaus crooks his chin up with a finger, causing them to look eye to eye. There's that flicker that Marcellus rarely sees. His papa does not tend to get too stern with him. This is different.
Maybe it is serious.
"I understand you wish to shave. However, you will not until I say you are ready. And only under my supervision."
"Papa…"
"Tell me something. How did it feel when you used it?"
Marcellus chews his lip. "It hurt."
"Yes, and it shouldn't. Because if you do it carefully, all will be well. It takes time to achieve that skill, Little Warrior. Which is why Papa must be with you. Do you understand?"
Marcellus doesn't. He doesn't understand why he has to be a little boy. Why can't he just grow up and be like his papa and uncle? They are fierce! Nothing can touch them. They protect the entire family. Marcellus wants to be like them. Not a little boy who's kept out of the battles and told to play chess or with his toy soldiers. He doesn't wish to move the plastic figures around. Marcellus longs for a real battle.
Yet, he knows his papa will never understand that. Sometimes, Marcellus wonders if he truly understands him at all.
So, he nods. A small lie. But does it really count as a lie when you do not speak it aloud?
"Promise me you will not touch that blade until I tell you to do so?"
Marcellus sighs. "I promise, Papa."
Klaus smiles, patting his healed cheek. "That is my good little warrior. I think it is time for your nap."
Marcellus doesn't argue as the duvet is pulled back and he's gently tucked in while he lays on his tummy. He rubs at his eyes, bogged down with the conflicting thoughts. Marcellus wishes he could be like his toy soldiers. Yet, he also knows soldiers are not tucked into bed. They do not get kisses from their papa or have their back scratched.
Why does he feel so stuck between boyhood and that of being a man?
Those big boy thoughts wash away as his papa begins to sing a soft lullaby.
April 18th, 2010
"You were naughty?" Jeremy asks incredulously.
Marcel chuckles. "That's so surprising? I get in trouble sometimes."
"Nuh uh. Bubby's a good boy."
"We're all good boys." Marcel kisses each of them on the head. "Sometimes we make just not so good choices."
Tyler sniffles and squeezes Jeremy's hand. "Sorry JerBear. Shouldn't have let you do that."
"S'okay, TyTy. Not your fault."
A flicker of doubt comes across Tyler's eyes. Still, he throws his arms around Jeremy and squeezes him tight. Marcel wraps his own arms around his brothers and gently rocks them.
"Well, well, well." Marcel sighs as he listens to his father enter the room. "Of all the places to play, I wouldn't say Daddy's bathroom is one."
Jeremy, ever the daddy's boy, leaps off of Marcel's lap and dashes over to him. It seems all worries of being punished have gone. Klaus scoops him up and examines his face.
"You were bleeding," he whispers. "What happened?"
Jeremy opens his mouth to speak but Tyler jumps up and vamps over. "It's my fault, Daddy! All my fault! Don't yell at Jeremy! Please, please! I was naughty."
Klaus frowns as he looks down at his frantic little boy. He settles onto the floor beside his eldest child and pulls Tyler onto his lap. Marcel rubs his brother's back.
"One of you explain," Klaus says, looking between the three. "What happened? Why was Jeremy hurt? What happened to the cut?"
"I healed him," Marcel offers. "I came into the bathroom and he was bleeding from the cheek…"
"Because I let him shave," Tyler interrupts. Klaus frowns. "He wanted to be like you daddy."
"And TyTy and Bubby," Jeremy adds, slipping his thumb into his mouth.
Klaus inhales his cheek and sighs. "At the very least you used shaving cream," he muses.
Marcel bites his lip. His father's body is tense, but it's more with worry than anger. He cuddles the boys closer.
"That was a very dangerous thing to do," Klaus chastises. "Jeremy, you could've taken out your eye. Or got a very serious owie that Marcel may not have been able to heal."
Jeremy chews on his thumb. "Wanted to be like…"
"I understand that. But you are too young to shave. In order to do that, you need some hair on that soft, sweet angel baby face." Klaus gently squeezes his cheek. "You're still just a baby. That's why we only do that when Daddy is with you and I can take out the razor. Do we understand?" Jeremy nods. "Will you do it again?"
Jeremy shakes his head. "No, Dada."
"Thank you." Klaus turns to Tyler. The middle brother is fiddling with his fingers and gnawing on his lip. Some tears fall down his cheek. "And as for you, my little pup, you are not responsible for your baby brother's actions. However, you shouldn't have helped him. The minute he wanted to do this; you should've gotten me."
"Wanted to play with him," Tyler whispers.
"Are razors for playing?"
Tyler shakes his head. "No, Dada."
"That's right." Klaus bounces his legs. The boys rest their heads on his shoulders. "But, I still love the two of you." He glances at Marcel. "All three of you."
Marcel smiles a little. Klaus rises to his feet, hoisting each of his younger boys to his hips.
"I'm going to change these little monsters," Klaus says, tickling Tyler's tummy to make him giggle. "Then tuck them in for a nap."
Marcel nods, watching the three of them leave. Once he hears the nursery door shut, he goes about cleaning up the bathroom. He forgot just how stubborn shaving cream can be once it's smeared everywhere. The mess isn't cleaned until he senses his father coming into the bedroom. Marcel enters, throwing the towel over his shoulder.
"Are they asleep?"
Klaus nods. "Aye. Tyler insisted on sleeping Jeremy's crib, to keep an eye on him."
Marcel chuckles. "He really does love him, Papa. He just doesn't have the best impulse control."
"I cannot blame them fully. I should've known they were up to no good when it was so quiet. Silence is never a good thing around these parts." He tilts his head. "After all, look what happened when it was all those years ago in New Orleans."
Marcel's face warms. Klaus' smile remains.
"I told the boys about that," Marcel says. "They found it hard to believe I could be so naughty. You think they'd have seen it enough."
"Nay, you're their older brother. They adore you, Little Warrior. And you proved why today. You should have got me, but I appreciate you taking the initiative."
Marcel shrugs. "It's my job right? Look after my insane baby brothers?"
"Perhaps. But it is my job upmost as the father." He squeezes Marcel's shoulder. "I believe you said you wanted to spend the afternoon reading. Why don't you get back to it?"
Marcel nods then hesitates. "Can I read in the studio while you paint? Like I used to?"
Klaus' smile grows fond. "I would love nothing more."
Let me know what you think! As always, feel free to leave prompts or ask me questions! I am on Tumblr and love communicating on there, as well as in the comments.