Chapter Text
6.
Kol stood before the compound's massive oak door, his fingers tracing the intricate carvings. The glass panes reflected his expression back at him, overlaid with the familiar chaos of the French Quarter beyond. Strings of colorful lights twinkled in the distance, a stark contrast to the shadows that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.
He hesitated, hand hovering over the ornate brass handle. The metal was cool beneath his palm, a silent invitation to step out into the night, to lose himself in the labyrinth of streets and memories that made up New Orleans. To run, as he always had.
The door creaked open a fraction, letting in a gust of humid air thick with the scent of jasmine and alcohol, and the distant strains of jazz floating on the breeze. Kol breathed in, letting the intoxicating scent of the Quarter wash over him.
But before he could take a step outside, a familiar presence materialized behind him. Strong fingers wrapped around his throat, yanking him backwards with supernatural speed. In the blink of an eye, Kol found himself slammed against the wall, Klaus's face inches from his own.
His eyes burned with fury, the grip on Kol's neck just shy of crushing. "And where do you think you’re going?"
Kol rolled his eyes. "I’m just taking a walk, Nik. No need to be so dramatic."
Klaus loosened his grip slightly, but his body remained pressed against Kol's, effectively pinning him to the wall. "A walk?" He whispered, mouth descended on Kol’s neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below his ear. "The last time you took a 'walk', little brother, you disappeared for two years."
The touch sent electricity coursing through Kol’s body.
"No more running. No more leaving." Klaus whispered against his skin. Kol let out a moan, fingers curled into his brother’s shirt. "Haven’t I done enough to satisfy you?"
'Haven’t you had enough?' Kol nearly rolled his eyes again, exasperated. He sighed, leaning back against the wall, momentarily distracted by the warmth of Klaus's lips and tongue on his collarbone.
Then Klaus turned him around and slamming him into the door. The belts were being ripped off, and fell clattering on the ground. Kol blinked, unable to react. His damn bloody hybrid of a brother wanted to... no, he was gonna take him right here. Claiming him without restraint, as he pleased. Making him scream for people behind the door, or perhaps, the whole city to hear. Punishing him mercilessly for attempting to run away once more.
Kol felt his entire body shudder in fear and excitement, but suddenly reminded of what had happened in Amsterdam. "N-Nik… The others might be back soon. Elijah, Hayley, Hope—"
"Then better make the most of our time, shall we?" Klaus cut him off, using one hand to grip both of Kol’s wrists behind his back. His free hand coming up to trace the line of his little brother's jaw, thumb brushing over his bottom lip with tenderness. A contrast to the steel in his voice.
"Until then, we still have unfinished business to continue."
Before Kol could protest, Klaus was already pulling him away from the wall, steering them both toward the bedroom. He was pushed onto the bed, and Klaus followed him down, trapping him beneath his body and his intense gaze.
Their lips quickly crashed together in a heated frenzy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling.
With a growl of frustration, the hybrid flipped the younger vampire onto his stomach, pinning him to the bed with one hand while the other tore at his clothing. Bare chest pressed against bare shoulder, igniting a fire that burned through them both.
A cacophony erupted as the mattress convulsed in violent movements. The fox surrendered himself completely, consumed by the ravenous wolf's hunger, over and over again, each time more ferociously than before.
…
Hours afterwards, they lay tangled in sheets that bore witness to their night of passion.
Klaus traced idle patterns on Kol's skin. His touch lingered on a particularly deep bite mark at the junction of Kol's neck and shoulder, his own handiwork from moments before.
"You're thinking too loud," Kol murmured, not opening his eyes. His body was pleasantly sore, immortal healing already working to erase the evidence of their inhuman intercourse.
Klaus gently brushed his fingers along Kol’s neck, wiping a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth. He then tenderly touched the younger one's wrist, feeling his pulse with a light press of his index finger.
"Just reminiscing about how delightful you were last night, my dear."
Klaus smirked, leaning in close to whisper against Kol's ear, "You were exquisite, love. So eager to please, so insatiable to my every touch. Writhing beneath me, your delectable sounds as I relentlessly ravished you, claimed you, again and again—"
"Oh f—fuck, for God’s sake, shut it." Kol chuckled. Adjusting himself to a more comfortable position, he leaned on his elbow to face Klaus. "I assure you, Nik, I absolutely have no interest in indulging your werewolf cravings. My original intention was to be here because my favorite niece requested it."
"Speaking of Hope, I heard you've made amends with her."
"Indeed.” Klaus smiled. “And I suppose I owe that reconciliation to your... intervention."
"Intervention?" Kol's eyebrows shot up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Is that what we're calling it now? I prefer to think of it as my masterful diplomacy, or perhaps my unparalleled skills in family counseling."
He grinned, voice dropping to a sultry purr. "Though, my methods can be a bit... unconventional."
Klaus chuckled, reaching out to trace the line of Kol's jaw. "Unconventional indeed. I shudder to think what Freya would say if she knew your particular brand of therapy."
"She'd probably want to take notes," Kol quipped, leaning into the touch. "After all, I am a prodigy in the art of Mikaelson conflict resolution. Perhaps I should start charging for my services."
Their laughter mingled in the air.
Then when the sound of the shared laugh stopped, Kol looked at Klaus, the light faded from his eyes.
"What about Elijah?"
Silence fell over the chamber, heavy and charged. Klaus's body tensed, his hand stilling on Kol's skin. The easy intimacy of moments before evaporated, replaced by a familiar tension.
"What about him?" Klaus's voice was neutral, but Kol could hear the undercurrent of defensiveness.
Kol sighed, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. The sheet pooled around his waist, revealing the constellation of bruises and bites that decorated his pale skin. "Well, have you talked to him?”
Klaus's eyes narrowed, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "My, my, Kol. Are you practicing your newfound peacemaker skills on me now? Shall I lie back on a chaise lounge while you psychoanalyze my relationship with our noble brother?"
But Kol didn't rise to the bait. He simply inclined his head, lifting his eyebrows at Klaus.
Klaus held his gaze for a long moment. Then the hybrid sighed, his gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the Persian rug beneath their feet. "We haven't spoken," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Not since... that night in Amsterdam."
'What a twist. I figured you two ancient pots and pans would have your usual spat, then wrap it all up by unanimously stuffing me back in the coffin with a dagger, as a bedtime accessory.' Kol bit his tongue, knowing this wasn't the right moment for a snarky reminder. "Nik, you need to talk to him."
“I don't need to do anything," Klaus snapped. "Elijah made his position quite clear that night."
Kol shifted closer, pressing his chest against Klaus's back. "Did he? Or did you just make assumptions that you knew what he was thinking, as you always do?" His fingertips brushed across the previous scratches and bite marks on Klaus' shoulder. "Our noble brother can be... surprisingly understanding and forgiving, especially when it comes to you."
Klaus tensed at Kol's words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "You don't understand, Kol. The way he looked at us that night... the disgust in his eyes..."
"Are you certain that's what you saw?" Kol pressed. "Or is that what you expected to see?"
Klaus whirled around, eyes flashing. "Do not dare assume you know everything about me, Kol!"
"Oh, but I do know your mind," Kol countered, unflinching in the face of Klaus's anger. "I know how quick you are to assume the worst, to push people away before they can reject you. Especially Elijah."
Klaus's hand shot out, gripping Kol's throat. But there was no real force behind it - more a reflex than a threat.
Kol’s eyes remained steady and unwavering. Ignoring the fingers tightening like a vice around his throat, he leaned forward with a deliberate slowness, his lips brushing softly against Klaus’s. The kiss was tender, a gentle caress. Gradually, the tension in Klaus's body slowly ebbed away, his grip loosening as he melted into the warmth and intimacy of the moment. When their lips finally parted, Kol rested his forehead against Klaus's, their breaths intertwining in the space between them.
"Listen to me," Kol said, his voice soft but insistent. "We've all watched you and Elijah dance around each other for centuries. The push and pull, the devotion and resentment. Always seeking approvals, always terrified of disappointing the other. It's exhausting, really."
He pulled back slightly, meeting Klaus's gaze. "Elijah loves you. More than any of us, more than reason or sanity should allow. Whatever he saw that night, whatever he thinks of... this," he gestured between them, "it won't change that fundamental truth."
Klaus studied Kol's face with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
'How can you defend him? After everything, the way he’s treated you?' He wanted to ask. 'The times he stood by while I daggered you, the centuries he brushed you off as nothing but a liability, the way he always looked at you with sheer disdain?' Yet, as these thoughts swirled in his mind, a vivid memory surfaced: one of himself, standing over his youngest brother, voice laced with venom, eyes hard with judgment. The dagger on his hand. The realization of his own cruelty tightened around his throat, leaving him speechless.
"And what about you?" Klaus grabbed Kol's wrist, pinning him beneath his body again. "Where do you fit into all of this?"
Kol's eyes softened as he looked up at his brother, a ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "Me? I’ve already accepted my role." He traced the line of Klaus's jaw with his thumb. "Just the chaos that keeps things interesting. The wildcard you can't quite control, but can't seem to let go of either."
"The troublesome little brother, useful when you need a bit of mayhem, but easily discarded when inconvenient. Always the last choice, always the afterthought."
Klaus's grip tightened, his eyes flashing with a mixture of pain and regret. For a moment, it seemed he might lash out, fall back into old patterns of deflection and anger. But then something shifted in his expression.
"No," Klaus whispered. "Not anymore."
He cupped Kol's face in his hands, thumbs brushing over cheekbones. "I know I've failed you, little brother. Time and again, I've pushed you away, treated you as disposable. Used you when it suited me and discarded you just as easily."
Klaus's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his usual mask of arrogance and control crumbling.
"I cannot rewrite the past, nor can I wash away the centuries of pain I have wrought upon you. But I swear to you, Kol," Klaus's voice cracked with emotion, "From this moment forward, you are essential to me. Not for blood, not for power or control, not for what I need of you, but for who you are. My wild, brilliant, infuriating little brother."
Kol's breath caught in his throat, overwhelmed by the raw honesty in Klaus's words.
"Everything will change now." He said.
"Stay, love. Stay with me. Remain by my side, and allow me to show you the depths of my devotion."
For a long moment, Kol was silent.
'Pretty words, Nik. But we both know how easily promises are broken in this family. How quickly your promises can turn to ash.'
But he wouldn’t say it.
Kol scrutinized Klaus’s face, searching for any sign of deception or manipulation. A strong urge swelled within him to flee, to shield himself from the inevitable disappointment. Yet, another part of him, the part that had always longed for his brother's affection and validation, ached to trust, yearned to believe.
He had a choice to make.
And he chose.
His hand reached out, finding Klaus's and intertwining their fingers in a firm yet reassuring grip.
"Yes, I'm staying." Kol said simply. "And you certainly have a lot to make up for."
...
As the ceiling above him vibrating, Kol couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been missing something important.
Until his eyes caught sight of the perfectly pressed suits hanging in the open wardrobe across the room. His entire body froze.
"N-Nik," he panted, voice suddenly tight with horror. "Please… tell me we didn't..."
Klaus followed his gaze, and a slow, wicked smile spread across his face.
The immaculate organization, the leather-bound classics arranged by publication date, the subtle scent of expensive cologne that permeated the sheets...
They weren't in Klaus's room.
Or Kol's.
They were in Elijah's bed.
"You bastard," Kol hissed. "You did this on purpos—Ah!"
Klaus's smirk only widened as he brushed a strand of sweaty hair out of Kol's face, clearly amused by his brother's mounting panic.
"Well, you did insist that we'd talk to him." The hybrid’s torso kept rocking back and forth swiftly with increasing intensity. "I simply thought it would be more... interesting to show him instead."
And Kol fucking bit him.
Before he could continue expressing his anger by strangling Klaus with his bare hands (or suffocating him with his mouth, Kol hadn't quite decided which), the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. Measured, deliberate steps that could only belong to one person.
The door handle turned.