#it’s very annoying how i always forget to order a refill until it’s too late

[wineanddineloseyourmind]

it’s so wild how running out of estrogen makes me shut down emotionally 🙃

[redevenir]

rigil kentaurus (pt. i)

The brightest star of the Alpha Centauri solar system – our closest neighour. Its name is the latinisation of the arabic رِجْل القِنْطورُس‎ Rijl al-Qinṭūrus, meaning the Foot of the Centaur. It is slightly larger and more luminous than the Sun. W

seungkwan x reader

wc : ~ 4000

summary : you are only a spectator of your life until they take your hand and let you live it.

a/n : started it as a seungkwan piece, then turned it into a johnny one then coming back to seungkwan bc this is how i wan to keep writing it. it's like i can't keep writing it if it's not seungkwan i don't know.

« It’s the fourth one. » Chan’s voice is only a hushed whisper but you hear how bothered he is. You don’t answer.

I know…

No, It’s already the fourth one tonight, and it’s only eleven!

I know…

It’s like they’re not even trying! Seungkwan barely avoids the tea towel as Chan raises his arms out of exasperation. If they don’t what a cappuccino is, why do they order it anyway? It’s a coffee shop, just buy a coffee! You know you don’t need to answer that. You’ve been working here for months and complaining about customers seems to be a universal way of breaking the ice. You’ve heard this speech from your first week at the counter, and with time you’ve come to agree with whatever colleague you were with, on every single point. Not once have you considered quitting to find something else instead. It is, indeed, not the best place. At the entrance of the city, the beginning of the highway. It is neither cozy nor warm. The air conditioning is too strong half of the year, the radiator too hot during the six months of winter. You are either sweating or shivering. The playlist is sickening, and never in tune with the season. You ignore Maria Carey’s christmas’s vocals as you give a customer a refill. Night workers and truck drivers are your only customers during the night shifts. You have stopped judging them long ago.

For months on end, the only thing Chan could tell about his coworker was that you were not a model employee. It was hard to blame you for anything specific. But you felt off. You felt nothing. When Seungkwan asked him how his shifts went, he would just shrug. It felt like he spent many of his nights on his own rather than with you. Like you were not there with him. Every evening he would arrive, greet you and feel like it was the first time ever. And he would grumble about it.

Can you believe I know nothing about her ?

Well, she’s surely a very private person.

Yes, and that’s rude.

You make little to no effort to appeal to the customers. In fact, you barely engage at all with them. Although, and this is your secret, you do have your favorites. From the three maintenance workers of the power plant to the security guard who comes four times a week, before the end of your shift, after the end of his own, Chan has found out that, if he listens to you close enough he’ll learn their names. Because you know them. You often seem to be elsewhere, but when you wish them a nice evening, or good luck, you do say their name, quietly, without any fuss. A sign to him you weren’t completely indifferent but thoughtful in a different way from his. There is nothing likeable to the Dreamy Drivin Chan works at. First of all, it is not a drive-in, nor a drive-through, it is a mere coffee shop. Not a fancy one, not a chain one. The counter’s light green is ugly, the temperature’s always off, and the pay is honestly not much. This is how life is at the border of the city. You catch what you can get and you try to make it work. He assumes the reason you’ve landed there is the same as his and Seungkwan’s : dropped from school, without any proper qualification for a living. He assumes you are his age, that your face must look younger when you are not tired. Chan is nice. Well, Chan likes to tease his friends, but Chan is nice. He tries to reach you, one sentence at a time.

White noises. The purring of the coffee machine you’ve never seen off. They come in, white shirt, stained jeans, black coats. They order the same thing, the largest, darkest coffee you got. You serve them with a « good night », « good luck » if you feel in a kinder mood. Since Seungkwan’s smile is bright and big and loud, you’ve decided you didn’t need to fake one of your own. They pay for their order and leave for never ending roads you cannot quite picture in your mind. When you work long shifts, it seems to you the world is shrinking, that if you open the front door you will fall into a bottomless pit. That the joke of a coffee shop you work at is some sort of asteroid gas station where rocket drivers stop by on their way to the Andromeda galaxy. You tell yourself Earth is also a little rocking drifting among the stars. You welcome a new customer. You dream of outer space. It is known people turn to alcohol and other substances to forget their troubles, but you don’t need that. Numbness greets you every time the pointing machine does its trick, and you even lose sight of your daily life. Surely you have one, plants to grow, books to read, hiking to walk and messes to clean. People to see and a sun to meet. But here, behind your pale green counter, you consign it all to oblivion. Here, there is only the world in your head and the star who takes orders by your side that exist. Your hear Chan’s annoyed sigh. You serve another coffee. It feels like taming the crow that lives in the tree in front of his building. Like he could give you bread and even croissant crumbs every single night and you would still be distant. And one day, you initiate the conversation, and he knows he’s done well. He remembers it just fine now. It was probably a boring wednesday, late in the afternoon. It had been a cloud few hours since he had woken up. A dim midday sun dissolving into the thick gray air. He was already behind the counter, checking the clock, when you had busted in the room, panting. There was some pathetic charm about the whole scene. You don’t hide your surprise when you see Chan already there, and a smile had made its way – oh so joyful and unsettled. The smile on your face had remained unchanged when he had asked you. And why are you late ?

I am not ? You had answered. What the manager doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

Ooh, so that’s how it is. Chan relates to that. He never complains about you again. Next time he talks about you, he tells Seungkwan you are his friend now. His quiet, merry friend who never works day shifts. Chan does. As it happens, Chan hates working the night shifts and only does it when Seungkwan can’t. Seungkwan is kind. Seungkwan is the most loveable being Chan has known in years. Seungkwan is grounded and warm, and steady. Moving in with him was like having finally his roots planted into rich, reliable earth, instead of the slippery mud he had been walking on for most of his life. Chan is heard, is seen. Chan sleeps well, and goes out of his way whenever Seungkwan asks him a favor, because it is easy to satisfy him. Easy, and right. He tells Seungkwan you’ve asked after him, and watches as the other chokes on his coffee.

Can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t notice.

When Seungkwan comes back to the night shifts, you don’t mention him ever leaving, but he notices the change in you immediately. When you greet him, he looks at your face and wonders what was so bad that your better rested face still looks worn out. You’re not as lively as he is, you’re not as lively as Chan is, hell, you’re not even as lively as Chan said you were with him – which wasn’t that much to begin with. But you are here. There is a relief in your presence. Seungkwan said nothing about his absence, and diligently drinks the cup of coffee you offer him around three. Seungkwan regrets the day shift but still. It could be worse. As he tries his best to maintain his customer service to its level – it is hard and how, how did he manage to do it before ? Is this the reason why you don’t ? Don’t set any standard, at all, so no one can be disappointed – and especially not you – when you don’t live up to them. Seungkwan wonders how hard you really are on yourself, and if he isn’t being dramatic. Maybe you’re all right. Maybe you look terrible because that’s how you look. Maybe you were born tired and he has no need to worry about you. Maybe you don’t need him to meddle in your privacy. Surely, if you wanted him to know about your life you’d tell him yourself.

The softest clunk ever heard by a human ear snaps him out of his thoughts. He meets your concerned look and the large cup of latte you’re handing to him.

Seungkwan, you should go home. Take it easy. Night shifts are hard.

He looks at you with wide eyes, opens his mouth, close it, opens it again and stutters.

But- no ! I mean- I can’t- I- I- you- I can’t let you do this alone- It- It- no, it’s not right! You shrug and gesture vaguely toward the empty diner hall.

It’s whatever, really. You try to elaborate as he doesn’t answer. No one’s here, you’re clearly not here, there’s only two hours left, just, you know. Go to sleep. I really don’t mind. You don’t have to fight me on this, by the way, it’s not like I’d tell anyone.

Seungkwan does as you say, doesn’t fight you on this. He can’t manage a proper thought, a proper thank you. He goes in the locker room, picks up his stuff, only to hesitate before the front door, until you repeat yourself, a sweet promise of rest. He spends the journey back home away from his body, replaying the scene over and over. He knows he’s screwed when he opens the door to his and Chan’s apartment. It’s ridiculous, and he would feel ashamed if he wasn’t so tired. How easy it is to let you take care of him. He crashes on his bed still in his work clothes and forgets his last thoughts.

Your shift passes without a fuss. It doesn’t feel like you’re there either.

You close your book when you realize you’re not reading anything. There is a light buzz in your brain, but it is quiet. Unthreatening. You close your eyes and your reaches for the cup of hot cocoa on your desk. It’s all nice and quiet here, and you wonder how you’ve managed to make your apartment such a peaceful nest when your mind is so often washed out by fierce tempests. You let your mind drift away, floating on a safe shore. Breaks from work are nice. Your sleep schedule is well set by now, and you can properly enjoy those forty-eight hours for yourself. You don’t spend every week night longing for them, because you never project yourself into the future, but you would if you did. Dawns are definitely your favorite moment of the day. Either they mean you can go home, or that you have an entire day to relish in the warmth of your place. It is a nest indeed. A kitchen and a bedroom, all stuffed into the maze of a much bigger building. The wooden floor is quite creaky and you do hear when the neighbor upstairs wears their heels. The walls are a very faded shade of orange, which you love – sun-like colors are for good luck. The furniture is definitely older than you are – older than your parents, probably – but it is nice. And the day you’ll leave it will remain exactly the same. More used but untouched. In a way, the atmosphere is not unlike the Dreamy. Homey and decay. Anonymous, but in a belonging way. Chan would hate it. His apartment – well, their apartment – is probably… You can’t picture it. You don’t know enough about home interiors to picture someone else’s home. Comfortable. Maybe furs as bed-covers? You have never touched one before, but sometimes you catch a glimpse of them on the passenger seat of a car. Your gaze never lingers though : you are not to look at a car owner in the eyes.

Seungkwan feels like he’d sleep nested in a bed of wool and furs. He’d probably like the soft but rough feeling of it against his skin. There’s something comforting about raw fabrics, isn’t there? A bubble of heat slowly builds in your chest and you close your eyes shut to chase the thoughts of Seungkwan’s bare skin in his bed.

Seungkwan is quiet, but not discreet. He is clumsy and always in his own world, parallel to yours, but you wonder how many light years are between you, and it is all to his credit. There is something you find commendable to his behavior. A reliable honesty. Not unlike a dog, you can tell from the look on his face whether he is content or anxious or annoyed. You do not have to imagine his hidden agenda – you are positive he has none. The easiness with which Seungkwan expresses himself still amazes you, even after a year or so of observing him a few nights a week. It seems to you his feelings have no hindrance to them : pure joy, pure irritation, pure panic whenever one of you breaks a cup – it happens more than you like to admit. When his voice rushes to tell you a quick joke between two customers, the joyful spontaneity of his tone carries you miles away from the counter, to bright afternoons on windy shores. He is quick-witted and never misses a chance to tell you whenever he notices something amusing. Simplicity is Seungkwan’s most beautiful quality, you have decided. When you are not drifting around other solar systems, when you come back home to your place, when you are lying in bed a few minutes more before getting dressed up, you try to imagine what he is doing at the same time. What does his apartment look like, what does he like to cook, does he have a dog and why is his smile so charming. Sometimes under the shower you wonder what he would think about you if he were to see you naked. You try to leave these thoughts in the shower where they belong but you cannot always control your mind and you find yourself embarrassed in front of him more often than you care to admit.

You collect information about him like a gold digger their gold nuggets. Every word he addresses you, you replay in your head again and again until you can hear him breathe them against your ear in the darkness of your bedroom. So when Seungkwan comes back, all quiet and cautious, pondering on his words and his welcoming attitude almost erased, you act on it as best as you can. You are not brave enough to properly ask him about it, so you do what you do best. You observe. How quieter he has become, and the slow but unstoppable growth of the bags under his eyes. Not that he seemed well-rested at all, which is also worrying. What did he go through that was even more tiring than working night shifts? Of course, it is none of your business. If Chan were there, maybe he’d spill the tea, but Chan made it very clear he didn’t want to work a night shift ever again. Will you ever talk to him again? The little one you’re so found of. Chan said Seungkwan was a neat roommate to have, and for him to give up the sunlight for months, you assumes he means it. The understatement is lovely. Chan would never spill Seungkwan’s secrets.

You light up the gas, put the little orange pan on it, pour the milk in it. With that you empty the milk carton, and throw it in the trash. Who knows when you’ll be able to afford milk again? You haven’t seen any in the store for weeks – and you restrain yourself from stealing the Drivin. It isn’t worth it. As you wait for the milk to heat up, you hear a gentle knock on your door. You lower the fire, apprehension growing in your chest. You’re not expecting anybody, so this can’t be good. On your tiptoes, breathing deep, you reach the front door and slowly open it. Wary, you let yourself look at whoever is standing outside.

Oh, miss, hello! Sorry to bother you! Someone just called after you, so I thought I’d let you know ! She lived here too. You don’t know her name, but she’s definitely older than you are. She lives upstairs, you’re not sure of the floor. She looks like a teacher, and her enunciation sounds like that too. She has a little polite smile on, aware of your discomfort, the stiffness of your body being obvious. As she sees your absence of reaction, she hands you a piece of paper, covered in smooth carbon writing. Definitely a teacher. One of your coworker, he said he was. I forgot yo ask for his number, but if he calls back, do you want me to tell him something specific ?

Huh, no! I mean- No, no, no, you don’t need- you don’t- you don’t need to do anything, miss. I’m- I’m sorry he took the liberty to call you, I don’t wish to bother you ! You mouth is so dry. Thank you! Thank you! Sorry again! I’ll leave you be then! Have a nice day! You shut the door without noticing the smile she has on again.

The ringing in your head takes over everything else. You try to reach for something to keep your balance and crumble against the wall, choking for air. You crumple the piece of paper in your fist, nails digging in the soft flesh of your palms, tearing little moon crescent that taint the words you haven’t even read. She knows now. What kind of person doesn’t have a telephone at home? Who, if not someone who is trying to remain unreachable? Untraceable. Your head is about to implode from the pain. Now she’ll know. Now, she knows you have something to hide. You lie on the floor, chasing after your breathe. Who will she tell? Does she live alone ? Is she a public teacher ? How long do you have until she tells on you? You cannot dare to think you might have to go now, tears burning your eyes as you hiccup desperately. The hawk claws on your chest only dig deeper and deeper until your forehead is against the floor, searching for cold, for a relief from the blades in your brain.

The crisis lasts for hours.

The room is dark when you emerge, and a faint, panicked thought about being late comes to you but you’re quick to remember you don’t have to work tonight. Smoke and the smell of burnt is all around you. Shit, the milk. Mouth dry, head numb, you slowly sit up, body hoarse. Feeling a light pain in your hands, you let your fingertips brush over the scab already formed. The piece of paper is still in your left hand, torn and bloody. Finally, you smooth it and read the few words on it. Coworker wants to know when next free day is. also have a good day. You stare at it without making any sense out of it. What coworker? Which one? Your planning is with everyone else’s at work. You feel nauseous. Muscles sore, you stand up and go to the kitchenette to turn the fire down. Without second thought you throw the now empty pan in the trash. Fuck all of this. Mindlessly, you reach the bathroom, undressing yourself as in a dream. After you’re done you let yourself fall on the bed. Quiet, in the back of your head, you start to make a list. Tomorrow, tomorrow you will pack. Just in case.

When you arrive at work the next night, you put an obviously packed bag under the counter. You don’t greet Seungkwan. You don’t look at him. The shift goes by without a word addressed to him. At dawn, a few minutes before you’re both free to go, Seungkwan clears his throat next to you.

I-… Hum. I, well, it’s obvious you don’t want to talk about it, but- Well, just- Just so you know. Chan says he’s sorry. He would never hav- You cut him off, stern, as you wipe the cloth over the counter to make it shine. So it was Chan.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. You hear him open and close his mouth. He seems to understand his place.

O- Ok. Have a good day rest then.You don’t bother to answer him before leaving, bag on your shoulder.

Time passes slowly.

You haven’t looked at Seungkwan in the eyes for so long now, Chan wonders if you still know what he looks like. Every afternoon when Seungkwan eats his breakfast and Chan comes back home to a most welcome snack, the night worker sighs heavy, burdened by your silence. It’s unbearable.  It’s unbearable for him to go to work every night with someone who was once friendly and has turned into a wall, a wall for which he longs to love. It’s unbearable for Chan to see his roommate on the verge of tears because of the guilt. It’s unbearable to know their action has you ready to run away every minute of every day.

The thing with Seungkwan is that he is quite good at reading people. Even though he does enjoy some unnecessary drama as much - and maybe more - as others - he usually manages to get through his life without ruffling any feather. It makes it a lot harder to comfort him with empty words when he knows you’re avoiding him, because he has been looking at you. This is how one should talk to people, he has learned. Not everyone is comfortable doing so, he also learned. Sometimes, Seungkwan says nothing, for he is afraid to annoy you away. There is no pleasure whatsoever in taking the night shift. The place is already dull by day, but by night it reaches a new dimension of boredom. Sure, it pays a bit better, but it is not worth it. Since he is not asked anyway, and he does not get to choose his shifts, Seungkwan tries to prize the strays of light in this fog of ennui. First, the night regulars seem to like him better than the day ones. He likes to think they enjoy his enthusiasm and maybe it is one of the reasons they keep coming and ordering there. The other one is you. Although now you are not at all like a light ray and more of a far away storm, high at sea.

Seungkwan would’ve liked it better if had you unleashed hell upon him. Before you used to not talk to him, but it felt more like you were shy, or reserved. Or merely didn’t know what to say, which is a very understandable feeling when you’re still at work at two in the morning five days a week. It didn’t feel awkward. Well, it sometimes felt a bit awkward, but not in the bad way. Now… Now you’re very obviously pretending he is not there, and Seungkwan wants to cry. All of it is his fault. Chan only called to you because of his rambling. I would have called her anyway. I like her. She’s my weird work friend. It’s unbearable. He jumps when Chan drops his fork on his plate with a loud clunk.

I’ll make it up. I can fix this. The eldest doesn’t look up from his meal. Chan wants to rip his own eyes and scream. With her. Inquisitive and tired eyes shoot up. I’m gonna do something about it.

Wha- Wha- Chan, there’s no fixing it, what are you talking about ? She comes to work every day with a bag which I’m sure is full of necessary stuff. You know what that means. I know what that means. She obviously know what that means. There is no fiwing this.

I know, I know. I don’t mean- Deep breathe. I know I can’t fix everything, obviously. But I’m going to apologize to her, and she’ll talk to you. And, well. It’s going to work. Seungkwan shrugs. He says nothing more until he leaves for work.

Chan slumps into the sofa. He’s fucked up big this time. It sucks. He really is a fool. Living one day at a time, he’s lost perspective. He has even forgotten why his life is like that in the first place. How could he be so careless? He’s a fly. Well, all of you are flies. Clearly, you’ve managed to get out the web and he has brought you back into it. Chan’s a fool. He stands up in a sigh, put on his shoes and goes back to the Dreamy Drivin’.

[darth-salem-emperor-of-earth]

Not sure if I’m late or not but here is my latest entry for @naruto-fantasy-week​, a prompt for Day 5! I doubt I’ll have enough time to eek out fanfics with the last two prompts before the event ends but I’ll eventually write them and post them anyway and go back to this fanfic and the previous to spruce them up and expand on the ideas I came up with for each fanfic/prompt.

There is some violence mentioned and acted upon, especially in the end, but it’s nothing too graphic. And as a fun tidbit, cantarella was a poison rumored to be used by the Borgias but since there’s not a whole lot of evidence the poison exists, I took artistic license with it to suit my purpose of this story.

The title derives from the lyrics of Nightwish’s song “7 Days to the Wolves”.

Summary: He was a man of many faces, shapes, and ideas. Unfortunately, shapeshifters like him were a prize to be captured and then used for gladiator arenas. While he was used to the killing that didn’t mean Orochimaru never stopped contemplating his revenge. Who would have thought he would find another shapeshifter hidden right under Danzo’s nose? Naruto Fantasy Week, Day 5. Prompt: Shapeshifters. [Orochimaru x Sakura]

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“Serpents were in my heart.” — Mary Shelley, The Mortal Immortal 

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The white wyrm rested, and waited, in anticipation for that small cellar door to open and here the sounds of the humans issuing orders at him, telling him how lucky he was that a wretched snake, a shapeshifter, continued to live under the generous hospitality of Danzo, and if he continued to do his part in the fighting pits, he would be fed and not lose any of his scales. 

Orochimaru snarled at the door, wishing he could snap the wood in two and break the bones of the sentries posted outside his door. He heard that same annoying speech approximately 5475 times, once a day, for the last fifteen years. And sometimes they lied, for after battles, if he ended the match too quickly or gave his hapless opponent a swift, clean, and painless death, they’d drug him and pry a few of his white scales off, while the magic they used to bind and control his shapeshifting restrained him from unable to lash out. Such actions served to not only remind Orochimaru of who was in charge of his life and to sell his pearlescent scales to the highest bidder, adding a hefty, lucrative amount to Danzo’s coffers. 

One of these days, he was going to swallow Danzo whole and let that fool slowly digest in his stomach. His death would be slow, agonizing, and very satisfying.   

A guard eventually did open his chamber door, recited the boring, useless drivel Orochimaru heard over thousand times before nodding over to the masked mage at his side. The unknown mage wore a rodent-like mask, different from the last mage who temporarily lifted the block on his shapeshifting. 

“Danzo requests your presence, your human presence, at his side. The next match is starting soon.” informed the masked mage once the yellow glow departed from his outstretched hand. Orochimaru narrowed his slitted golden eyes dangerously. He remembered what happened when they first allowed him to change shapes, to assume his human form. He acted all compliant and understanding, lulling them in a false sense of security right before he first bite off the head of the mage, then a nearby guard, before shifting out of his wyrm body and back into his human self to escape the narrow door and grab the first weapon he could find to slay the other guard who was about to raise the alarm of his escape. He was eventually recaptured before he could leave the keep, home of the fighting pits, and was whipped brutally for his attempt. Yet through it all, Orochimaru still had to laugh bitterly at their earlier carelessness. Did they not forget who he was and why Danzo decided to let him live after his greatest transgression (besides being a shapeshifter)?

Before the village discovered his identity of a shapeshifter–creatures the elders condemned as monsters, only fit for extermination–, he was a trained warrior, a skilled killer who served the town while keeping his snake-like gilded eyes hidden in his youth through glamor or shaded spectacles. His parents could hide their natural heritage and appearances better with simple alterations and had no need for glamor, since they were older and more experienced shapeshifters. Yet all their years of experience and aptitude didn’t save them from being slaughtered–by the orders of Danzo. And Sarutobi, the village’s main leader, Orochimaru’s very teacher, turned a blind eye, and let the cloak-and-dagger execution happen. And then promptly turned around to lie to his young pupil’s grief-stricken face about his parents’ deaths.  

He didn’t regret killing that old bastard for lying to him after all those years. He may have not wanted his parents to die or issued the decree but his negligence, his cowardice, and acceptance of shapeshifters being lesser beings, like animals, made him just as guilty as Danzo, who hung up his parents’ skins up on his office for all to see. He had forced one of them to turn into a large serpent and the other, a small dragon, all so he could use their hide as a trophy. Such disfigurement was the most traumatizing death any shapeshifter could experience, especially if their corpse was paraded around like a proud prize for humans to gawk at.    

Orochimaru was left alone in his cell once more so he could transform back into a human and change into the clothes that were left for him. Those robes were always placed so neatly in the corner, waiting for him, when he was permitted to be human. His scaly body was soon a tall, lean pale man with long, silky black hair, and he kept his signature, curved golden eyes with dark purple markings around the eyelids. Everyone already knew who he really was so why bother mask his true appearance?

By the time he was escorted and brought to Danzo, the power-hungry man was already barking orders at the serving girls to bring him more sake and food. For Orochimaru, he simply inclined his head, inviting him to take a seat and watch the upcoming match. Just like always, whenever he planned to sic some unfortunate soul in the ring with him, as a wyrm. He wanted Orochimaru to study the gladiator’s fighting techniques and movements beforehand, a sure sign that he wanted his opponent to die in the battle arena.

Most likely a political opponent of Danzo’s or a dissenter he labeled as a ‘traitor’. My, my, he’s finding so many of them these days. 

The fighter down below was fast, Orochimaru would give him that, but strategy was not his forte. He dodged most of his larger foe’s attacks and was more of the type to wear his assailant down until they became exhausted and made mistakes. And he repeated his defensive blows often, another tactical error. Basically, his onslaught with him would hardly be a worthy match. 

Sighing in disappointment, Orochimaru helped himself to a goblet of water, draining its contents dry before setting the cup back down. As if on cue, one of the serving maids rushed up to him to refill his drink. He turned around, about to politely thank her (after all, unlike some, he actually had manners), and he heard a sharp intake of breath. When a pink haired server came into his line of vision, his nostrils flared, and her green eyes stared at him surprise. He understood her reaction.

Here, amidst Danzo’s private posse of servants, trusted men, and soldiers, was another shapeshifter. And unlike him, she was not branded or wearing chains that restricted or prohibited her from transforming into other animals or people. Which meant…

Danzo doesn’t know she’s a shapeshifter. How bloody rich.

If he wasn’t in the presence of Danzo’s oh so charming company, he’d laugh viciously at the irony right there, on the spot. 

The girl–no, young woman–whoever she was, fumbled with the pitcher during her moment of distraction and quickly averted her gaze to focus on not making an entire mess of the water and attracting the unwanted attention of Danzo. Meanwhile, as she concentrated solely on watching the water rise in his metallic goblet, Orochimaru leaned forwarded and whispered in her ear.

“Be careful, little one. Better stick to the shadows, lest someone gets suspicious and uncovers your secret. Then you’ll be chained, just like me.” 

That mocking warning startled her but she uttered nothing. She merely finished filling up his cup and returned to her original location, off to the corner and out of sight. Yet she did sneak a glance over her shoulder to get a glimpse of him one more time before she returned to her duties and he resumed his bored review of the fighting before him. Hopefully, that fledgling shapeshifter had enough sense in her to realize she risked more than just her life staying here and would quit the village in the dead of the night.   

There was no need for this putrid city to have two shapeshifters under their control or be responsible for another’s one death. 

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He was wrong about the other shapeshifter. 

She must be lacking wits, to sneak past all the guards just so she could creep into his cell and offer him water and leftover food from the kitchens. Some might call her courageous but all Orochimaru beheld was a foolhardy woman who should have left Danzo’s service, packed her bags, and left this godforsaken place already. 

“You shouldn’t have come,” he hissed, revealing his rows of sharp, venomous teeth.

The roseate haired shapeshifter ignored him, setting down a jug of water, scraps of chicken, pheasant, beef, and wild boar. The tender, seasoned meats and the spices cooked into its juices wafted through his nose and he eyed the meal curiously. 

“I never thought I would see another shapeshifter,” she began, inching the food tray closer to him. “Especially one imprisoned by Danzo. I thought he had a strict ‘kill every single shapeshifter I see’ policy.”

He chuckled dryly. “He does, unless he wants to use you for his own purposes. But why are you here to see me? You risk torture and certain death should the guards notice you.”

“But I wanted to see you!” she protested. “I haven’t seen, much less talked to another shapeshifter in years. Especially one who could help me–teach me, that is!” 

“Teach you what?” Orochimaru finally decided to sate his hunger and first devour the bits of pheasant, relieved to find that the chef didn’t use too much pepper and balanced the amount of herbs just right. 

“To change into larger, stronger creatures,” she explained, verdant eyes sparkling with hope. “You see, I was adopted by humans and they didn’t know my true heritage. So I had to learn how to transform on my own or scavenge for any books left behind by shapeshifters for helpful tips. I can do small animals and creatures but nothing as big or impressive as this.” She gestured to his wyrm body. 

That explains how she was able to skulk past all the sentries. 

“Why should I help you?” Orochimaru cut in, cocking his big, heavy head at her. “Why stay here, talking to me, instead of departing this wretched town and start searching our own kind? Surely, someone there can help you better than I.”

Her green eyes leveled with his amber ones, resolute and dark. “Because I crave to kill that bastard Danzo and I believe you’ll help me do that. And besides, I want to help you escape this horrible place.”

She didn’t even know him and yet, she wanted to help set him free. This shapeshifter was a strange creature, but he understood the hunger for revenge. It was a language he fathomed all too well and the burning desire had kept him going for all these torturous fifteen years. Danzo expected him to try to escape again or at least, try to murder him, but he didn’t anticipate her. And that raised the odds a little in their favor. 

“What an intriguing proposal,” he practically purred, his breathing fanning against her face and causing her pink hair to billow out behind her. “In exchange for me training you in how to change into more complex forms, you’ll help me escape from this dungeon, and somehow, together, we’ll kill Danzo. Is that correct?”

She nodded firmly. “Yes. And I don’t care how long the training takes. I want, no need, to master my shapeshifting.”

At least she was dedicated, eager to learn. Orochimaru couldn’t abide small-minded people and those who had no drive, no interest in acquiring more knowledge and skills. 

Either way, he was trapped underneath the fighting pits, with nothing else better to do so why not? At least this way, he wouldn’t be so dreadfully bored.

“Very well, I will accept this offer. However, I will need to know the name of my pupil. It’s only polite after all.” He forked his long tongue at her, amused when he startled her a little.

“It’s Sakura.” She bowed her head in reverence. When was the last time someone gifted even a small measure of respect like that? “What’s yours? I need to know the name of my teacher too.”

He grinned wide, knowing full well his face probably appeared utterly monstrous and terrifying but to Sakura’s credit, she didn’t flinch or scramble away from him in supreme terror. 

Good.

“Orochimaru. Now, let us begin with your first lesson.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Contrary to the popular belief among humans, shapeshifters didn’t magically obtain knowledge on how to transfer into every creature or animal in existence overnight. Each attempt took time, energy, training, and practice to learn, control, and master each form, so a shapeshifter could not only move and talk in their new form but stay in it for long periods of time. The same went to altering their human appearance or body completely.

So his lessons with Sakura continued for years as she made progress with more medium sized animals or changing her human self to the point no one would recognize her. He never inquired why she wanted Danzo dead so much because that was none of his business and right now, he was not that interested in prying into her personal affairs. In return, she never asked what he did to be imprisoned so cruelly by Danzo. However, he did not miss the way her eyes would linger over his old scars or small, open patches of flesh where his scales once were and her face would scrunch up into pure, indignant rage. It was adorable, actually. 

Yet he could hardly say the same whenever she was too exhausted in her training to head back to her room and go to sleep in her bed. Instead, Sakura would simply collapse amidst his coiled, scaly body and wrapped her arms around him, almost as if she was giving him a hug. Part of her features were usually resting up against his neck, so near his face that half of the time Orochimaru was tempted to shake his head or move around to jostle Sakura out of her slumber but something always prevented him from doing so. Maybe it was pity seeing how weary she was, juggling her servant duties, making sure her identity as a shapeshifter is still a secret, and then sneaking into his cell during the night to receive more lessons from him. She probably didn’t even realize she was falling asleep on him. Regardless, Orochimaru allowed this habit of hers to continue and only waited a few hours later to carefully wake her up and remind her to get back to her room before the sun rose and the other servants inquired about her absence. The routine turned into a cycle he had no motivation to stop. 

While Sakura was improving with her shapeshifting and finally could move onto the larger creatures, they began to discuss, in all seriousness and not just idle musing, about escaping and slaying Danzo in the process.

“Poison would be the surest way to kill him,” Sakura opined. “There are so many different varieties out there that are slow acting and don’t show any immediate signs of poison until after death. And I serve him his meals occasionally, right after he is given his medicine. I can always poison the drink he takes to wash the foul flavor of the concoction down. He wouldn’t be able to notice a difference in taste.” 

“A fine idea but Danzo is a paranoid man, especially since he knows I want to kill him and many of my previous forms favored snakes, serpents, or dragon-like beasts. I’ve heard he boosted his immunity to several poisons so if we choose poorly and select the one he’s immune to, then we wasted our time.” Orochimaru pointed out, stretching out his long, cumbersome physique in this rather cramped cell. 

Undaunted, Sakura still pressed the venom route. “What about poisons that will simply immobilize him and prevent him from speaking or moving for a long time? Surely he wouldn’t have spent his time increading his defense for poison that won’t kill him outright or over time.”

Cocking his head, Orochimaru regarded her curiously at her suggestion. If Danzo was paralyzed like that, preferably in his bed, those close to him would raise their suspicions that this wasn’t natural and the work of some curse or toxin. On the other hand, if they measured the dose correctly and timed its effect exactly, then it could be possible to have the old devil at their mercy. That is, if he was predicting Sakura’s plan accurately. 

“Are you suggesting we use a poison that will paralyze sometime in the night, rendering him unable to defend himself or call for help as we kill him?” he stated, making sure they were on the same page.

Sakura nodded, eyes resolved, her face grim. “Yes. Do you think that scheme would work?”

“It could, if we can get our hands on this specific poison. Cantarella, I believe it’s called. Do you know where you can obtain some?” Creating cantarella on their own would take far too long and even though shapeshifters were blessed with longevity, Orochimaru did not want to take any more risks with these nighttime lessons of theirs. Sooner or later, someone would notice Sakura’s odd nocturnal routines and investigate. And such nosiness could get them both butchered. 

“Yes, I know someone. He poses as a traveling merchant and has no love for Danzo or this village. He won’t ask questions if I purchase the cantarella from him.” 

Orochimaru hummed with approval. “Good, that issue is taken care of. Now, onto the other snag in this scheme of ours.” Lifting his head up, he gestured to the thick, old, and heinous brand embedded in his upper torso, located right on his upper left chest if he was a man. “This brand and the chains that bind me here prevent me from transforming. Since none of us know how to remove the brand or negate it completely, we need one the sealing rings the mages use to control whether or not a shapeshifter can change their form.”

Moving away from her spot on the hard, damp ground, Sakura approached the branded section and gingerly reached out to touch it, tracing the design slowly. “I think I can get one. It might take me a few days or a week to butter up the mage but I have a plan.” She turned her head towards him. “Trust me on this. By the end of this week, I will get us that ring and once we have it, then all we have to do next is administer the cantarella.”

“And not get caught in the process,” Orochimaru reminded soberly. “If Danzo or one of his supporters catches wind of our plot, then we’re good as dead.”

And this time, Danzo will skin me for certain, wyrm form and all. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His concern on Sakura’s unspoken plan to get a sealing ring from a mage was apparently groundless. For by the end of the week, after she entered his cell in the form of a cat, he glimpsed the ring in her mouth. She dropped the item in front of her, a triumphant beam on her feline visage before steadily changing back into the petite, muscled young woman with short, cropped rose hair and jade eyes. 

“How long do we have before the mage starts searching for his missing ring?” was the first question Orochimaru asked, not touching the said ring right away. For years he longed to get his hands on this trinket, to use its powers to nullify the brand’s power and finally control his own shape for a change. It didn’t matter whether he or Sakura used the ring, the magic inside would work and he could shift back into his human self again or take the form of another animal. They were lucky the sorcery within those rings could be accessed by anyone with just a simple word, a word Orochimaru heard often enough with his now almost twenty years of imprisonment. 

Contemplating his query, Sakura scrunched her nose up to concentration on her estimation on the amount of time they had left to enact their wild scheme. “I think we have until morning. The sleeping potion I gave him will leave him knocked out the rest of the evening and night.”

Sleeping potion? If he had eyebrows in his wyrm form, Orochimary would have risen both of them. Only those who possessed enough knowledge and skills in medicine would boost such confidence in the lasting effects of a sleeping potion. No mere amateur could create a legitimate concoction that would actually work. 

Sakura never ceased to surprise him. 

“A shapeshifter and a practitioner of medicine? My, my, you must have an interesting story to tell. I must say, I’m rather impressed with your skillset.” Orochimaru remarked. He remembered a former comrade-in-arms who was a combat medic, the first in her line of work. By the time he murdered their former teacher, Sarutobi, she had already left the town and roamed the countryside to be with her lover, a civilian named Dan. If Danzo was now fully dominating this town, she would have been aghast and then incensed what became of her home. 

Orochimaru hadn’t thought about Tsunade for a long time. Being chained in a dungeon and used for gladiatorial matches had a peculiar way of warping one’s memories and perception of time, it seemed. 

Sakura brightened at his praise, the luster in her eyes practically illuminating his dim, dusky cell. “I’m happy to hear that, Orochimaru. Sleeping potion can be chancy, especially mixed with alcohol, but the mage I was charming earlier already wanted to spend some time alone with me after his shift. Getting the sleeping potion was actually harder than mixing it into his ale. By the time he wakes up tomorrow, he won't remember if we had a wild night or not.” 

Mocking laughter percolated from the back of Orochimaru’s long, thick throat. Undone by the lust in his own loins. How insipidly easy. 

“As long he won’t recall clearly and the potion lasts, we have our chance.” He nodded to the ring on the ground. “Use that thing on me. It’ll be easier for you to release the binding seal on me rather than myself.” His tail or mouth were much too enormous to hold the ring securely with dropping it or accidentally swallowing it. “All you need to do is chant ‘Release’ and I should be able to change my form at will.”

Sakura gifted him a skeptical look. “The word to use is ‘release’? Nothing else? Nothing more complicated?”

“I never said the mages under Danzo’s control were intelligent. Most of them are mindless drones. Danzo mass produces those rings to help all of his soldiers and assassins combat shapeshifters so of course he wants them to be easy to utilize.” 

She glared at the offending ring on the ground prior to picking it up and slipping it under her finger. Her mouth opened and formed the lone word, her voice low, soft, but commanding. 

“Release!”

He felt the brand heat up, the pin-prickling warmth uncomfortable at first prior to evanescing away into nothing. The shadow of control the brand had always rendered inside his mind and body was gone, replaced with an empty sensation that there was no magic this time to stop him from shifting. 

His body grew smaller and assumed a new shape. His alabaster scales became white skin, long, luxurious hair the color of jet black cascading effortlessly down his scalp and past his shoulders and back, and he relished the feel of arms, legs, hands, and feet. The only part of him that remained the same was his golden eyes, outlined by violet markings. 

Sakura stared up at him in wonder, holding the ring up for him to take and use for his own protection. “I’ve never seen you shapeshift before. You did so flawlessly...it’s like watching water move on its own.”

An indulgent half-smile slithered across his lips, accepting the ring and dropping the trinket over his pointer finger. “If you live long enough as I have, then you’ll be able to shift your body as swiftly and deftly as me.” His eyes roamed past Sakuraand over to the cell door behind them. There were no guards around but they still had to be cautious. They were so close to the final stages of their plot. 

“I take it since you made plans to snatch this ring that you already are in possession of the cantarella?”

She nodded. “Yes, and I’ve been scheduled to bring Danzo his meal and drink tonight, with the physician who will feed him his medicine.” A black smirk spread across her fair visage. “I will be needed for this duty in less than an hour.” 

He expected such news but the information was so welcoming and pleasing to him that his half-grin soon morphed into a smirk identical to hers. “Perfect. Go and make the preparations and let me know when it’s done. When night has fallen, we will shapeshift into an unnoticeable animal to enter his room. After that…” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if the two of them would just be wishing Danzo goodnight instead of murdering him in his bed. But the sinister, vindictive gleam in both of their gazes belied the softness of his tone. Orochimaru could imagine Danzo’s blood on his hands, coating the entire wall in a crimson palette. “Well, let’s give the people of this...amusing establishment something to chat about tomorrow morning.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The priceless, alarmed look in Danzo’s eyes would be forever burned in Orochimaru’s mind. There was a small fragrance of fear emitting from the usually prideful, smug hunter of shapeshifters, the tantalizing smell hovered so  deliciously over him as the two shapeshifters approached the bed, a candle in both of their hands so Danzo could witness his assassins. The cantarella worked wonders for even now, Danzo could not move nor speak to save himself. All he could was listen. Listen and wait for his demise to come. 

“I warned you all those years ago that killing me would have been wiser for you,” Orochimaru intoned darkly, his whispery words surely evoking the same memory from Danzo. The candlelight illuminated his amber eyes so clearly in the vacant darkness of the room. “But I shouldn’t be so rude and hog all the introductions. Sakura, dear, why don’t you jot Danzo’s recollection of you? Judging by the confused expression on his face, I say he doesn’t recall you.”

Danzo wheezed and grunted, mouth hanging up like a fish, but his fear was now replaced with utter rage. 

In an instant, Sakura held a dagger over his chest, a silent snarl overcoming her mouth, her face promising no mercy and a slow, painful death. She glared at Danzo like he was vermin, not fit to even exist in this world. “I doubt you remember me, you bastard. Why would you, when you banned the women in this village the right to become warriors? And why would you care about some girl all those years ago, from a civilian family, who could not possibly be a threat to you? After all, it was her friend, that orphan boy whom the neighbors whispered about having shapeshifting powers and that he acted more like an animal than a boy? Isn’t that right?” 

By now, in the midst of her ranting, Sakura had already begun to sink the blade into Danzo’s stomach and the old coot hacked, and then gurgled out wordless noises, his eyes wide as saucers. Although Danzo could not scream out his agony, Orochimaru still tore some of the bedsheets and stuffed them in his mouth, just in case. Sakura retracted her hand, only to plunge the dagger into another area of his abdomen once more. 

“He was just a boy, Danzo! And he was my friend!” she growled, jade eyes ablaze with retribution, fury, contempt, and grief. Emotions Orochimaru comprehended all too well. He could never forget behelding his parents’ hides decorated in Danzo’s office, no matter how hard he tried. “His name was Naruto and you executed him for being a mischievous shapeshifter.” Again and again she stabbed, garnet holes oozing out of him and spreading outward to create morphless, endless streaks and designs, staining his clothes and sheets until the entire bed cover, once a bland beige color, now was dyed a deep burgundy hue. “But you missed one. You missed me, Sakura. All this time, I’ve been serving your food, pouring your drinks, and you didn’t fucking realize a shapeshifter was amongst you this whole time.” She spat in his wrinkled countenance, giving the dagger another savage twist before she rend the weapon out and handed the blade to Orochimaru.

Your turn, she seemed to convey.

He tilted his head at her as a silent ‘thank you’, the hilt of the sanguinary, jagged dagger warm, consoling, and solid against his palm. He rested the edge of the dagger against Danzo’s throat, the point delicately piercing the skin of that center bulge. “I know based on how much blood you have already lost thanks to Sakura’s wonderfully enthusiastic work that you don’t have long for this world. So in your last fleeting moments, I am going to fulfill my promise to you and take my pound of flesh.” Danzo’s eyes bulged in recognition, his chin soaked with his drool.  

Orochimaru cackled. Excellent, he still remembers my first threat to him before he cast me into the dungeons. 

“That’s right, Danzo. I’ve come to carve out your heart at last.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he and Sakura changed into bats and flew out of the open window Sakura had left ajar hours earlier, when she added the cantarella into Danzo’s drink, the sun was barely reaching the tips of the hills and bringing faint tinges of purples, pinks, and oranges to the night sky. By the time the servants opened the door and witnessed the gruesome display of what little remained of Danzo, the two shapeshifters would be a distant memory and far from the village’s reach. 

“What will you do now that Danzo’s dead? You can shapeshift on your own quite well.” 

At his question, Sakura frowned. “I’m not sure. I always assumed I’d die right after assassinating Danzo so I never really figured out the part of what comes next.” She combed through her lush, pink hair, her fingers untangling any stubborn knots. “But I recently heard some shapeshifters live away from humans and formed their settlement. Perhaps we could find them and live amongst them?”

Funny how she included him in her idea. Yet Orochimaru didn’t protest. It wasn’t as ifhe had any fine plans of his own and besides his parents, there was no one else in the world who cared about him. Save for Sakura. 

“I suppose that idea has merit,” he admitted, pretending not to notice the delighted sparkle in her verdant gaze or the way her lips curled upwards in triumph. “Let’s give your plan a try and see if we’re lucky enough to find more of our own.”

Much to his surprise, she reached over to grab his hand and held onto it, a small smile gracing her lips. “Even if we don’t, we won’t be alone. I’m…” She swallowed briefly before resuming. “I’m grateful...and delighted to have you in my life, Orochimaru.”

He squeezed her hand fondly, the right words caught in his throat. So was he. 

Regardless, Sakura understood his unspoken sentiment and continued to grin ever brighter for the rest of the day. 

[wildriverinthesky]

LOVE POETRY

Darien knew what the others did not. Love wasn't necessary. He was one of the top ranked high school students in the nation, and he was already accepted into the best pre-med program in all of Japan. He did that all without help. Without parents. Without love.

His best friend Andrew was extremely aware of his feelings on love which was why, when they arrived at the Ancient Japanese Love Poetry section in their literature class, he began laughing. He knew what Darien's reaction would be before he even heard it.

Darien did startle him a little. His opinion on having to read the poems was that, "It will be interesting to see why people feel that love is important." Andrew chuckled, of course he should have realized that Darien would look at it as a social experiment.

After school, he sat at the counter of the Arcade and studied as Andrew worked. Never once did it dawn on him that he liked studying there, because it was one of the few places where he never felt alone.

Darien studied in peace, until Serena walked in. She marched up to the counter, and told Darien, "You owe me a milkshake!"

He rolled his eyes, and said, "What gave you that idea, Dumpling Head?"

She stomped her foot, and scrunched up her face, "You are a jerk, baka!" She huffed and added, "A month ago, you said you would buy me a milkshake, if I could make it to school, on time, three days in a row.

"It took you this long?!" he laughed at her.

"Baka! Yes, now buy me the milkshake, and I can go back to being popular over there, away from you." she gave him a fake smile.

"There is more to life than just being popular." he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes dramatically at him and said, "Not everyone can be like you!"

"Like me?"

She shot him an annoyed look, "Yea. Smart, good looking, and popular."

He didn't understand why his insides grew warm. "Aww, does Dumpling Head have a crush on me?"

With as much sarcasm as she could muster, she leaned forward and said, "Oh yea, baby. I want you so badly. My body gets tingly everytime you walk by. Now, send my milkshake over to the table. Andrew, knows what I like."

She stomped off, and he went back to his homework. He rolled his eyes as he opened up the Ancient Japanese Poetry book. He read:

How desolate my former life,

Those dismal years, era yet

I chanced to see thee face to face;

'Twere better to forget

Those days before we met

By Atsutada

He couldn't figure out why that poem made him so uncomfortable. He fidgeted in his seat a bit. He then slammed his book shut, ordered Serena a milkshake, paid for it, and went home.

It was two horrible weeks later that he finally couldn't fight it any more. He, Darien Shields, had actually fallen in love. And, he was completely distraught. He didn't have time for love, not with his goals. And there were times when he believed that was the real reason for not confronting the fact that he was in love with Serena. In the moments when the truth seeped in, and he was honest with how he felt, he knew that it was that he was scared.

He was scared that, in his life, love didn't last. It wasn't like it faded. It literally died. Leaving him alone. He was also scared that he had fallen in love with the one girl at school that wasn't interested in him. He had received enough love letters to know what a girl acted like when they were thinking of confessing to him. That was when he usually made it a point to let them know that he couldn't remember their name. The love letters had really tapered off after employing that tactic.

He sat at the Arcade and worked through his math problems as he listened to Serena entertaining her friends. As always, she had them howling with laughter. He even quietly chuckled along from time to time.

Andrew refilled his coffee cup and asked, "Okay, what's up with you lately? You seem off. I am starting to get concerned."

Darien sighed and calculated the risk of telling Andrew. He knew Andrew would never tell his secret. He just didn't like the feeling of being vulnerable, even with his best friend. He thought about facing his feelings alone, without any support, and he sighed. He didn't like that feeling either.

He looked around to make sure that no one was near and motioned to Andrew to listen carefully. "I have come to realize that I have feelings for someone."

Shock briefly flashed past Andrew's face before he schooled his features. "Who? If you don't mind telling me. You know I would never say anything."

Darien nodded, "I know." He then paused. He didn't want Andrew to confirm his worst fears. He looked around to make sure they were still alone and pushed on. "Serena."

Andrew had better control of his emotions this time. Truthfully, the biggest shock of it all was that Darien was admitting to any feelings. After that, it was hard to surprise him. He decided to give Darien his honest opinion, "Well, leave it to you to pick the kindest girl. Of course, when you have a crush on someone, it would be her. You have a knack for going after the best of everything with your apartment, pre-med program, car. Now, if you ask her out, people are really going to be even more jealous of you."

Darien snorted, "As if I stand a chance with her."

"Wait, you want to ask her out?" Andrew failed to mask his surprise.

Darien looked up at him in confusion, "Want to? Yes. Will? No way. There is no way she would consider dating me."

Andrew stood there and thought about all of the things that Darien had said to her in this very spot.

"You really think that much of her?" Darien asked.

Andrew nodded in response and said, "Maybe you should be nicer to her."

The next day, while Darien was studying, Serena walked in and skipped up to the counter. She took one look at Darien and said, "I need your help."

"And, what makes you think I would help you, Dumpling Head?" Darien immediately cringed and thought, Shit! That wasn't being nicer. He could almost feel Andrew rolling his eyes behind him.

He did see Serena roll her eyes. She said, "Because, baka, you just pretend to be a jerk to me. I actually need help and you haven't ever said 'no' when I really needed it."

Darien heard Andrew drop a glass, and it shattered. Then he heard him muttering to himself about being clumsy. He understood what led to him dropping the glass. She shocked him too.

"Oh, yea?" was his admittedly lame reply.

"Yes, and it's a big favor. I need you to be my plus one to a formal dinner Friday. My father is receiving an award for one of the photos he took last year for the paper. It is a big deal for him and his career. His boss's, boss's, boss will be sitting at our table for the banquet. I get a plus one and I need to bring someone who's impressive. You wouldn't even have to pretend like it was a date. You would just have to be nice to me for one evening." she looked up at him expectantly.

"So, you want me to dress up for a not-date on Friday?"

She nodded, "And, really, you wouldn't have to act like we are together. My father will introduce you as my friend, and everyone will expect him to do that. No one would expect you to even come close to touching me in front of my father."

"Wait, so everyone will assume I am your boyfriend, but I won't have to act like it?" he asked.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, "We will tell them you aren't my boyfriend, and they might assume otherwise."

Well, that sucked. He wondered when he was friend-zoned so badly. "So, I am there to make you seem smart?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically and said, "No, you are there to keep the son of my father's boss's, boss's, boss from hitting on me all night. Again."

Now he was a heck of a lot more on board with going. "Wait, he hits on you?"

"Believe it or not, some men find me attractive." she harrumphed. "I just am not the type who falls all over themselves for a rich, attractive man."

Andrew scoffed, "Yea, because those are awful."

She smiled at him and laughed, "Okay, so he has other qualities I don't like. I am just saying that I won't overlook them because of the money or his face."

Darien pried, "It isn't really his money though, is it? It would be his father's."

"Actually, it is. Right after graduating college, he got a job at a company that deals in logistics and transportation. Apparently he made such a good name for himself, he made VP in six months. I am sure having a wealthy daddy helped." she informed them.

Andrew's brows furrowed, "How much older than you is he?"

"Six years. That, being one of the reasons I don't want to date him. What successful guy goes for a girl that is a senior in high school? I didn't like his answer, either."

Darien wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway, "What was his answer?"

"It was insulting, actually. He said, if I am this beautiful now, I will grow up to be even prettier. He then said he got to VP so young because he could see raw potential. He said we could go far together." she said in a melancholy tone. "I am not, and will never be, a trophy wife."

She huffed and stared at him when he didn't say anything to that. She said, "This is where you say, 'You wouldn't make much of a trophy, Dumpling Head.' I will call you 'baka' and then you agree to help me after I plead some more. Do I need to actually do the pleading part? Or, can we skip that, and pretend it happened?"

One of the reasons Andrew was Darien's best friend was because he had an ability to know when Darien wanted to be left alone. He proved that again when he said, "I have some re-stocking to do." Then he walked away, leaving them to talk.

Darien had to admit that the guy was right. She would grow up to be even more beautiful and make the perfect wife. Not only would she be lovely, but she would also be kind, gentle, caring, loving. The list went on. Andrew assumed he had a crush. His feelings were no mere crush.

"So, you are asking me because I am rich and good looking? You admitted as much before."

"No."

"Just, no? You are asking me for my help."

"You are also fun to be around. I would like having you there." she admitted.

His shock showed on his face when he said, "Fun? No one has ever accused me of that."

"You don't have fun when we banter? I assumed you did. I am the only girl you talk to after all. You would have to be getting something out of it."

"I talk to other girls."

She huffed and rolled her eyes, "I will amend my statement. I am the only girl you talk to when it isn't school work related or going to end up with someone crying in the girls' bathroom." He went to speak, and she held up her hand. "I know you aren't interested in girls." There was an awkward pause and she said, "I will amend that statement too. You aren't interested in dating right now. You are focused on your grades and your goals."

"Who said I am not interested in dating?" His brows knit together, and his fingers twitched.

"Your actions. I get that these girls that ask you out don't really know you, and you have no reason to say 'yes.' I mean, just because you help them with a question they have on their homework doesn't mean you are falling for them. But, you are more than capable of asking someone out, and you haven't. What else should I assume other than the fact that, if you haven't bothered to, you don't want to."

He snorted, "I do like someone. There's just no way that, if I asked her out, she would say 'yes.'"

Serena dissolved into hysterics. She started laughing so hard that she was struggling to breathe. When she calmed down enough, she said, "You are way too funny."

"I'm serious." He didn't really like his heartbreak being taken so lightly. Especially from the very one his heart was set on. Some of that showed on his face.

She looked him in the eye, and paled. "You're serious. You really are interested in someone." She took a step back and pulled at the hem of her shirt. "Forget I asked you anything. I will leave you alone."

She walked away, found a booth to sit at, and set her bag down next to her. He followed her over and sat across from her. "What just happened there?"

"We can't give whoever it is the wrong idea with you taking me to the awards dinner." she mumbled.

"So, this is because I am interested in someone? What if I told you I was kidding?" He wanted to make this right.

"You weren't. I saw it in your eyes. You wanted me to take you seriously. I do."

"What if going with you to this dinner didn't bother her? It won't." he was absolutely sure of that in fact.

Her eyes teared up, and she said, "Oh. Um…" A few tears had started falling down her cheeks.

"Why are you starting to cry?"

Raye was behind him and hit him in the head. "You get the hell away from her, right now. You can't ask her why she is crying after you said THAT to her! Baka, is right!"

His eyes grew huge, "What did I say?"

Raye yanked him out of the chair and made him follow her. She hissed at him saying, "You just said that she is so unthreatening to this other girl that she wouldn't mind if you went to this dinner with Serena. Is she really that insignificant to you?"

He hissed back, "Well, she is only asking me to keep someone else from flirting with her."

"So, she is asking you because you are impressive. You would say yes because she is insignificant?" Ray countered, glaring at him.

He sighed, and looked over at Serena noticing the booth was empty. He panicked, and then yelled to Andrew, "Please watch my things!" He then raced out after her.

He saw her on the sidewalk and yelled for her to stop. She did, and when she turned around, there were still tears in her eyes.

He let out all of the air in his lungs in a big woosh. He then said, "I can't do this to you of all people. Please stop crying. You've misunderstood everything, and I promise you that you assumed wrong. You are amazing."

She stopped crying and looked up at him with curiosity.

He rubbed his hands through his hair, and said, "I am going to tell you something that you have to promise to forget. I am also going to say 'yes' to this Friday, right now." He sighed, and didn't ask her for the actual promise. He knew she wouldn't be able to keep it. "I really don't want to tell you who I am interested in but, it is more important to me that I don't hurt you than it is for me to keep the secret. We have been friends for a while, and you are right. You are the only girl I enjoy talking to. Serena, the girl I am interested in wouldn't mind, because she's you."

His stomach instantly tied in knots. His feelings were out there, and he couldn't take them back. He pivoted on his right foot and walked back to the Arcade to collect his things including what was left of his dignity.

He felt a strong grip on his arm and turned. He was surprised that it was Serena with all of that strength. She rolled her eyes, stomped her foot, and said, "Baka, you can't say that and just walk away. You didn't wait to hear how I feel. Of course, the way we start dating will be with you thinking that you already know everything! Typical!" she huffed.

"Start dating?"

"You said you would go to the awards dinner with me Friday, right?" He nodded. "You implied that you wanted to date me, right?" He nodded again. "So, since I would say 'yes.' That would mean that we have started dating. Or, does that logic not work out? You are supposed to be smarter than me."

"Wait… wha…? You want to date me?"

She sighed, "Do you only speak in the form of a question now?"

He shook his head as if to clear it. "Sorry… I just convinced myself that there was no way you would be interested in me."

"Kind guy, always willing to help me, enjoys banter. Yea, there is nothing to like there." she said, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, and wear a tuxedo. It would look good on you."

"Um… okay. Really?"

She laughed, "Are you back to speaking in questions?"

"Sorry, no. I am just a little shocked." he admitted.

She smiled, and it lit her whole face. "You really thought that you didn't stand a chance with me?"

He nodded, "You are perfect and everything that is good and kind in this world."

Her eyes misted up this time with happy tears.

He leaned down and kissed her, making her toes curl.

He then laced their fingers together, and said, "So, where should we go on our second date then?"

How desolate my former life,

Those dismal years, era yet

I chanced to see thee face to face;

'Twere better to forget

Those days before we met

By Atsutada

[luckyjak]

fic: Overheard Conversations

Be careful spying on friends, lest you learn something you shouldn’t. [The M9 scry on Essek and learn about his crush on Caleb, the fic]

A gift for @martyart who keeps doing amazing Shadowgast art! [A03 Link}

In the Mighty Nein’s defense, they were trying to be polite.

“What if he’s busy?” Caleb had argued. “It’s getting late. He may be doing--doing--I don’t know what he does in his free time, but it’s the weekend and we can’t possibly assume he’s free to teleport us.”

“That’s why I’ll send him a message, Cay-leb, and he can tell us if he’s busy or not.”

“I dunno. I kind of agree with Caleb here. I feel like interrupting his weekend is kind of a dick move.” Beau offered, not really helping. “I already get the impression that he might try to kill us if we keep bothering him, especially after last time.”

“At the same time, if he’s free and doesn’t mind helping, we are going to a tropical island for Traveler-con. Maybe he’ll want to join us?” Fjord offered.

“Why don’t you scry on him?” Caduceus offered. “That way we’ll know if he’s busy or not, and we won’t risk annoying him by sending a message.”

Caleb immediately shook his head. “That won’t work. He’s bound to have some sort of magical protection. He’s not stupid--”

“I dunno, dude, like you said it is the weekend. He may just be relaxing at home or something. Chillin’. Totally willing to take us to a hot tropical island.”

“Should we really scry on our friends?” Fjord asked. “Feels a little immoral. What if he’s in the bath or something?”

Jester giggled. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that!”

(She had a feeling Caleb wouldn’t have minded, either, but he didn’t say anything. She could tell, though, by how red his ears got.)

“We spy on Yasha all the time!” Nott argued.

“Yes, but Yasha is actively evil right now, so she doesn’t count!”

“So we burn a spell slot to find out if we need to burn another spell slot?”

“Like we haven’t wasted spells on stupider stuff. Also, this keeps us in Essek’s good graces, which let’s be real, we totally need,” Beau huffed. “Also, we haven’t fought anything all day so Jester should have plenty of spells.”

“I haven’t cast anything today so far, true.” Jester interrupted, and then giggled. “Oh, why not? I’ve always wanted to see what Essek gets up to when we’re not around!”

Caleb had started to protest, but it was too late: she had already begun her ritual.

--

The Traveler guided her, as always, and led her--not to a quiet home like she might have thought, but to a crowded restaurant in the Lucid Bastion. “The city is thriving tonight,” the Traveler whispered as he led her through the packed streets to a busy restaurant where Essek was sitting at a small table quietly, alone. “Come, let’s see what your friend is up to this evening.”

It was a fancy restaurant, definitely. There was fine silverware and free bread on the table, and the people there were dressed in finer gowns and robes. The lighting was low and soft, and there was a gentleman playing a violin nearby. It looked like the place you might go on date, Jester thought, and then immediately squealed. Am I interrupting Essek on a date???

He was even dressed a little nicer--he still wore his mantle, like always, but it looked like he had gotten his hair cut in the few hours it had been since she last saw him. He looked bored, though, reading a book and drinking a glass of something dark and expensive-looking. She had the impression that he was waiting on someone.

She (and Essek) didn’t have to wait long, though; soon a gorgeous drow woman walked up and joined Essek at the table. She had short white hair cropped in a straight bob that went down a little ways past her ears. Her makeup was dark but to the point, accentuating her long eyelashes and her dark golden eyes. She didn’t wear a gown like some of the other women in the restaurant did, but rather fancy silk pants and a dark jacket, with long dark silk gloves covering her hands. She was elegant without being fancy, in a way that seemed as though elegance came as naturally to her as breathing. Like the Bright Queen, in a way, but harsher, the way a well-crafted knife could be both beautiful and deadly to the touch.

Jester didn’t know her, didn’t recognize her on sight, but she did know that she was unquestionably beautiful. Essek has good taste in women. She thought with approval, looking the woman up and down with appreciation. Funny. I always thought he was into Caleb.

The mysterious drow woman walked up and kissed Essek on the cheek, surprising him only long enough for him to put his book away. “I hope you didn’t have to wait long,” she apologized, taking his glass of wine from the table and taking a sip. She then sat across from him, crossing her legs and delicately taking her long black gloves off of her hands. “You know how work can get.”

“Deyla,” Eseek scowled, but he didn’t look too outwardly annoyed. “How was work?”

“Less business talk at the table, don’t you think?” She waved a waiter over and ordered a glass of “whatever Essek was drinking,” crossing her long legs under the table.  “It’s been a long day.”

Essek didn’t smile, but he didn’t press her further. “How’s the Den?”

“Same as it always is. Mother is throwing a fit, but when is she not? She’s worrying about the Celebration but I keep telling her she has nothing to fret about. It will be fine, same as it’s been the last thousand years.”

Jester was going to end her spell early there; give Essek his privacy and let him enjoy his date with this mystery woman ( Deyla , it seemed) before the drow woman stopped her in her tracks, leaning across the table to squeeze Essek’s hands. “And how is my favorite little brother doing this evening?”

Oh! Of course this gorgeous woman was Essek’s sister! They had the same cheekbones and contempt! That made so much more sense than a date!  Not that Essek couldn’t date a hot girl--he totally could--but the flirting with Caleb made more sense now.

Essek sighed, letting go of his sister’s hand. “Tired, Deyla.”

“Hmph. Those humans bothering you again?”

Oh. She was talking about them. The Mighty Nein. Better stay and listen, then.

The waiter dropped off another glass of wine, this time in front of Deyla, but otherwise the two ignored him. “No, actually,” Essek laughed slightly. “They’ve been quiet for a little bit. I was actually thinking of seeing if they could help Mother, given how busy she’s been.”

Deyla took a long sip of her wine. “Mother would never allow them to help her.”

“I wasn’t going to tell her they would help. I would be more subtle about it.” Essek took a piece of bread from the bowl in the center of the table, chewing on it slightly. It looked tasty, and smelled divine. Gosh I want bread . “They owe me several favors. I was thinking that having them help Mother before the Celebration would be a good use of their talent.”

Deyla didn’t say anything. Instead, she pulled a long cigarette out of her purse, holding it out for Essek to light, which he did with a very simple flame spell. She took a long drag out of her cigarette. “Mother would rather die than accept help from humans. If she ever found out--”

“I can be subtle, Dey. I am the Shadowhand, after all--”

“But can they?” Deyla interrupted, blowing smoke his direction. “From what you’ve told me--”

“They have their talents. And they aren’t that bad, Deyla, really. They are--amusing. Talented in their own way.” He stopped, dipping his bread in a little bowl of oil. “They fought an ancient white dragon and lived, you know.”

It was nice, listening to Essek brag about them for a moment. He was usually so stiff and formal with them, it was hard for Jester to tell if he even liked them or not. I knew he liked us!

“I forget, sometimes, how young you are,” Deyla said quietly, letting her cigarette burn. “How naive. Just because they may be fearsome in combat doesn’t mean they can handle the subtleties of Den politics, you know.”

The same waiter came by and took their order, refilling their wine glasses as he went. Essek paused for a moment, taking a sip of his wine. “They are capable when they want to be. Professor Waccoh told me that they were very successful in humiliating her rival, and I believe her. I imagine if I asked them to humiliate Den Argith, for example--”

They could totally do that, Jester thought. In fact, she already had ideas, and she didn’t know who Den Argith was.

His comment didn’t seem to impress Deyla much, though. “It’s foolish and I naive to accept help from foreigners--”

“I know that! I may be young, but I’m hardly naive. I serve on the Bright Queen’s court, for the Luxon’s sake!” There was a deep purple flush to Essek’s face, and from what Jester could tell this was an old argument they were repeating.  “If anything, I sometimes wonder if you and Mother aren’t so old and stuck in your ways that you are overlooking a potential resource!”

Deyla wasn’t listening to him. “It’s that optimism and naivety that got you punished and stuck with them in the first place,” she rolled her eyes. “Tell you what. When you get to be 500 years into your second life, you can tell me all about how stuck in my ways I am. Until then, listen to your elders for once.” Gosh, but she looks good for 500! Deyla took another piece of bread from the center of the table and ripped a piece off of it, dipping it into the bowl of oil. “I’m just glad you stopped teaching their wizard dunamancy, at least.”

Essek didn’t answer her, didn’t even look at her; that was enough to cause Deyla to drop her bread instead (ruining a perfectly good piece of bread, in Jester’s opinion.)

“Oh Essek , you didn’t.” Deyla shook her head. “This is like Dantrag all over again!”

“It--it is not .” Essek defended himself, but his face was an embarrassing shade of purple. Jester immediately wanted to know who Dantrag was. “Dantrag was--was a bad judgment call. And he did prove himself, eventually.”

“After getting Den Hyluian a massive amount of favor! I swear, Essek, you are such a child sometimes! Any pretty boy with an ounce of magical talent shows up and you lose all common sense, I swear.”

“I--it’s not like that! Caleb is a talented wizard in his own right, and--”

“Oh, it’s Caleb , is it?” Deyla shook her head. “Luxon’s blessed ballsack , Essek.”

“I-- they are the Heroes of the Dynasty! They have the Bright Queen’s trust, and--”

“They are human ,” his sister snapped at him. “And that’s the only thing that matters. They’ve done the Dynasty a favor, sure, but just to save their own skin, most likely. And how long will it take them to betray us, do you think? As soon as the Empire offers them enough gold, they’ll go running back, now armed with the secrets of our people.”

Jester winced at her words. She was wrong, of course, but how was Deyla to know any differently? They couldn’t go back to the Empire; wouldn’t, actually, knowing what they do now about Caleb’s past, but how many other drow thought the same about them? How many of them saw the Nein, not as heroes, but as people just waiting for the opportune moment to betray them?

It wasn’t a good feeling.

Essek crossed her arms, shoving away from the table. “You are such a pessimist.”

“I’m a realist. And you are a schoolboy with a crush.”

Essek didn’t respond to her. Instead, he stared out the window, pointedly ignoring his sister.

It took a moment, but Deyla did eventually sigh. “I didn’t come here to fight with you. I just want you to be safe . You are brilliant , one of the most talented mages the Dynasty had in generations, and in your first life, no less. That’s no small accomplishment. I just don’t want you to throw it all away because you’re a sucker for a pretty face.” She reached across and squeezed his hands.

“I--no. You have a point.” Essek squeezed his sister’s hand back. “Last time I saw him, actually, he made me feel really shitty.”

Oh no. Jester thought, frowning intently. Caleb had made Essek feel shitty? Goddamnit .

“What did that bastard human do now? Because I will kill him if I need to.” Jester had no doubt that Deyla would keep that promise: she seemed like a woman who could kill someone if she needed to.

“He didn’t do anything wrong. He just--flirted more overtly because he needed something, and it made me feel kind of used. Like he knew I had a crush on him and was using that to his advantage.”

Jester winced; her own comment about “Caleb, kiss him!” probably didn’t help at all.

“I will cut him.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong.  The whole situation with the Nein last time was weird. They wanted me to teleport them to one place, then realized afterwards that they had had me teleport them to the wrong place, so I burned another spell slot to teleport them again, and then they were trying too hard to make it better, and just--it was weird. I’m kind of glad I’ve had a little break from them, to be honest, even if it has only been twenty-four hours.” He looked out the window again. “Less than, actually. I hope they succeed in whatever they were trying to do.”

That was--that was really sweet, actually. Gosh, they needed to do something nice for Essek!

“Hmm. That reminds me: Mother wants to know who you are bringing as a date to the Celebration.”

Essek’s face was flushed a dark purple; he grabbed his glass of wine and took a large drink. “I--have some ideas. Nothing set in stone, however. Nothing Mother would approve of, either.” Essek took another drink. “How soon does she need to know?”

“Hell if I know. I’ll ask her tomorrow. May I make some suggestions? T’ssandra was telling me her brother is single and--”

That was the moment when Jester’s scry spell ran out, sending her back home with the Nein.

--

“ Guys . Essek was having dinner with his sister, so I don’t think we should message him. Also, his sister is, like, super hot like Essek, but also she hates us. But Essek likes us, and he especially likes Caleb,” she elbowed Caleb in the stomach. “So I think we should do something nice for him! And I have an idea!”

“He--what? He likes --Jester, what do you mean by that? Jester?” Caleb was asking, frantically.

“Hot sister? Hot sister? ” Beau demanded. “Tell me more!”

Jester ignored both of them and kept talking. “We’re gonna go humiliate a Den!” She giggled. “Essek is planning to ask us to help his Mama out, but if we do it before he asks, just think of how grateful he’ll be! And we can prove to his Mama and sister that we aren’t evil and gonna betray the Dynasty--”

“Wait, what?”

“Go back to the whole ‘Essek likes Caleb bit’ please Jester--” Caleb tried again.

“If we do a favor for him and he didn’t ask us to, isn’t that just us needed to do another favor for him later?” Caduceus asked wisely, but packed his bags up just in case.

And then the Mighty Nein did what the Mighty Nein does best, and heisted their way into Den Argith on Essek’s behalf, and left a trail of chaos on their way out.

[aint-no-baby-mama-drama]

Klaroline Double Date

Based on a prompt request for a double date where Caroline and Klaus are with other people but clearly pining for each other. I definitely took this in a different direction than originally intended, let me know what you think and as always I am taking requests for pretty much any ship/type of fic! ** "I can't believe we are actually doing this." Caroline said, shifting in the seat across from her best friend, Mila. Mila just laughed and looked around the restaurant. 

"You'll be fine, it's just a double date. I can't believe you're so nervous. This was your idea. Literally last week you were complaining I hadn't introduced you to my new boyfriend and wanted to double date with you and Mike to meet him." She responded, Caroline nodded her head. It was her idea because her best friend and roommate had been talking non stop about her new boyfriend, Nick, and Caroline had been itching to meet him. But for some reason, as soon as Caroline had slid the red dress down her body and stepped into her heels, she had felt on edge. Her intuition was telling her something but she couldn't pin point what it was. She lifted the half empty glass of wine to her lips and glanced around the busy dining area. She didn't expect to see Mike yet, she knew that per his usual he would be late. Which she hated, honestly. She was very punctual but he was laid back, which she was trying to deal with. It was a nice contrast and she was learning to relax a little bit. He was good for her, so she had been told. She reached down and grabbed her phone out of her purse, watching as the time switched to 6:00 PM on the dot.

"Is this seat taken?" A voice cut through the air near her and she felt her spine stiffen as she dropped her phone back in her purse. The voice was one that was all too familiar to her, although she hadn't heard it in many years. Mila jumped up from the table, wrapping her arms around the male and Caroline forced herself to look up, locking eyes with none other than Klaus Mikaelson. It had been years since she seen him and she never thought she would see him again. She fought to keep the glare from her face as Mila let go of him and turned to Caroline. 

"This is Caroline. Caroline, this is Nick." She said, motioning between the two. Caroline immediately got it, Nick, or Niklaus. He didn't go by Nik very often, she had never personally called him that so she hadn't even considered the possibility it was him. But as Klaus let a cheshire cat smile take over his face and extended his arm across the table, Caroline got the idea that it was on purpose he was going by Nik. She allowed a very slight narrow into her eyes as she grabbed his hand back and gave a firm shake.

"Klaus" She greeted him softly, though even she could hear the venom in her voice that came from her lack of love for surprises. He let the smile on his face resort to a smirk.

"Caroline, It's great to see you" He responded, releasing her hand and taking a seat next to Mila across the table. Caroline glanced down to the menu, pretending she didn't see her friends confused look.

"Do you guys know each other?" Mila asked, looking between the two. Klaus just slapped his trademarked smirk on his face and locked eyes with Caroline. 

"Caroline and I are old friends. From years ago and towns away." Klaus spoke, voice lively. He turned to Mila and began talking about the menu and Caroline began tapping her foot gently, growing more impatient by the second as she waited for Mike to arrive. She pulled her phone out and began tapping out a message to him, feeling only slightly bad that she sounded rude to him. Klaus speaking her name drew her attention up.

"I'm sorry what?" She asked, not catching a thing that he said. Klaus grinned and leaned back in his seat, resting his hands in his lap.

"I asked what your boyfriend does, Mila hasn't said much about him." Klaus finished speaking and Caroline heard the challenge in his voice and she immediately felt the urge to roll her eyes.

"He's in construction. They are doing a new build soon so that's probably why he's running late. You know, being busy working and all." She explained. Klaus just nodded his head and maintained eye contact with her until she tore her eyes away and grabbed the glass of wine in front her, draining it in seconds before motioning for the server to come refill it. It was going to be a long night. By the time that Mike arrived, the trio had already had a few refills and ordered some appetizers, although Caroline was too annoyed to be hungry. But as she seen him walk through the door, wearing a pair of jeans a button down shirt, she swallowed her irritation and mustered up a big smile, standing and moving towards him as he neared the table. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss against his lips, letting it linger a moment before pulling back and holding her self against him as he turned to the table and stuck a hand out to Klaus, who gladly shook it, squeezing a bit tighter than he should have. Mike just smiled and shook his hand out a bit.

"Nice grip" He commented, Klaus just kept the smile plastered on his face as he watched Mike turn to Caroline and apologize for being late, unable to keep the grin from his face as he watched Caroline struggle to keep from exploding with her irritation. She really wasn't good at lying. They had sat and everyone ordered, after the waiter walked away with their menus, Klaus leaned forward, looking at Mike, who sat with his arm around Caroline.

"So Caroline tells me you're in construction, what do you do exactly? Sounds fascinating" He asked, resting his elbows on the table and pretending to listen intently as Mike began his speech on the buildings hes helped with in town. Mila smiled at Caroline from across the table, thrilled with how well it was going and Caroline just returned the grin before turning her attention back to the two men chatting by her and lifting the glass of wine to her lips again. By the time Mike was done talking, the food was arriving at the table and Caroline felt her hunger returning as she grabbed her knife and began to cut into her steak. Not seconds after she began the slice she realized that it definitely wasn't cooked the way she ordered it. She sighed softly and shut her eyes, deciding how much of a fit she wanted to throw about it before she eventually decided to just let it go, the night was weird enough as it was. Mila took a drink and motioned between Caroline and Klaus, looking at Mike.

"Did you know they know each other?" She asked. Mike shook his head and looked between them.

"No, I didn't. How do you guys know each other?" He asked, taking a bite of his burger. Caroline spoke quickly, before Klaus could say anything even close to inappropriate.

"We just had mutual friends back in Mystic Falls, my hometown. Nothing major" She said, realizing as soon as the words left her mouth that the way she said it made her sound very suspicious which just frustrated her more.

"Wait, were you guys a thing?" Mila asked, setting her fork down and pointing between the two. Klaus leaned back in his chair, relaxing a bit, reveling in how Caroline shifted and stumbled for words.  

"No we.. it wasn't like that it just.." She sighed and shifted a bit in her seat before glancing across to Klaus, who just sat, calmly watching her. An awkward silence fell across the group, broken by Mila clearing her throat and changing the subject to a new project of Mikes. Caroline half listened as she pushed the food on her plate around with her fork unable to clear their last goodbye from her head all of the sudden. She shifted a bit and shut her eyes as she swore she felt the rough bark up against her bare back and the cooler air on her skin. She fought to shake the memory and get back to the present. Klaus mildly paid attention to the more than awkward conversation Mila was trying to hold with Mike as he watched Caroline squirming in her seat, a redness tinging her cheeks. He grinned and moved a foot out, gently bumping it against hers, enjoying her sitting straight up and scootching to the far edge of her seat so he couldn't reach her. The rest of the dinner was silent and terribly uncomfortable as everyone did their best to maintain small talk and pretend the awkward beginning didn't happen, which became easier and easier for Caroline as the waiter began refilling her wine glass faster. By the time the plates were cleared, Caroline was pretty well wasted and had found her tongue a little looser than before.

"Ya' know.." She began, leaning forward across the table. "I think everyone of you are too uptight" She said, pointing a finger at Mila, Klaus, and then Mike. "I mean I don't know why its a big deal that we've hooked up." She said, leaning a bit more across the table towards Klaus and putting her hands around her mouth. "Even though it was fan-tast-ic" Caroline giggled and leaned back into her chair. "I think we should just let it go and move on and have a good night.' She said. Mike was the first one to turn to Caroline.

"It seems like you're the only one who hasn't let the conversation go, Caroline." He said, Caroline just laughed and shook her head, poking him in the cheek and turning to Mila, who just shifted a bit in her seat and glanced to the clock on the wall. Klaus just sat there amused, watching as Caroline continued to poke Mike.

"Parrrrtttyyyy Poooopppeerrrr" She slurred out in a sing song voice, reaching forward to touch his nose. He moved quickly, swatting her hand away from his face as he turned to face her, visibly annoyed. Klaus reached across the table and grabbed Mikes arm so fast Mila actually jumped a bit.

"I think dinner is over" He warned, voice sounding so threatening that even Caroline sat very still in her seat, watching the scene unfold. Klaus just looked to her and sighed before looking back at Mike, making sure to make eye contact before continuing. "Go home, forget all about what happened at dinner tonight, and Caroline for that matter" He waited until Mike nodded and was fully compelled before sitting back down in his seat and turning to Mila. "Tonight went great and you'll call me tomorrow" He said. She nodded her head and stood. Klaus waited until they were out of the restaurant before turning his attention to Caroline, who had her arms crossed, glaring at him.

"That was not ok." She said, pursing her lips in a pout as she leaned back into her chair. "Now I don't have a boyfriend" She sighed, reaching down to grab her bag from the floor and nearly falling out of the chair in the process. Klaus stood, gently helping her to her feet and dropping some cash on the table before guiding her towards the door. She shook his hand off of her back and glared at him again.

"You don't need that asshole anyways. He was too calm being rough with you, I don't like that" Klaus said, placing his hand in the small of her back again as she stepped out into the cool air of the night. He hailed a cab for her and gently helped her in before bending down in the doorway. She just stared forward, arms crossed. "Goodnight, love" 

"Never double dating again..." She muttered, Klaus let a soft laugh escape as he rested his hand atop hers in her lap, giving it a gentle pat before standing and shutting the door. Caroline gave her address and the cab pulled away into the night. Klaus let out a deep sigh as he watched it disappear into the darkness.