#me googling: fly that looks like smooth bee kind of??

[silverpolish]

Volucella pellucens (Pellucid hover fly)

[lochrannn]

AU-gust: Ya like Jazz?

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prompt no 7: Beekeeper

Characters: Lila Pitts, Diego Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

-

So, dad’s dead and now they have his estate to deal with.

The stupid townhouse that the old man had cobbled together from two separate houses, making it into some kind of monstrosity of cavernous halls and oddly shaped rooms, and then filled it to the brim with artefacts, antiques, taxidermied animals, and seven children he didn’t love, stolen from all corners of the world, was bad enough. But this… thing in the middle of absolutely nowhere really puts the cherry on top of the turd sandwich… or whatever the expression is, Klaus is finding it hard to concentrate on his own thoughts while he’s looking at the creepiest wood cabin he has ever seen in real life.

He shouldn’t even be here. He’d only come along to the reading of the will as he was hoping to get some cash that his father would have left for him, purely for appearance’s sake, but then his slightly estranged siblings (they have met for family weddings and funerals, and occasionally run into each other more or less intentionally over the years) promised him a real share if he helped them deal with things.

He should have stuck to Allison, but she is freshly divorced and in a surprisingly bad mood about it, so Klaus decided on Diego instead. But that has landed him outside the cabin, none of them knew existed, after a slightly tense two hour drive with his grumpiest brother.

The drive was tense because the last time Klaus had stayed with Diego when he was between living arrangements, he may have liberated from his brother a - what turned out to be - quite expensive watch.

Diego really does like to hold a grudge. Klaus thinks that’s rather pedestrian of him.

But as nothing can be proven, Klaus decides to repay Diego for the watch by giving some assistance with the cabin and not even complaining about it. Well maybe a little.

“What was the old coot even doing with this?” he asks incredulously.

“Dunno… let’s go and find out,” Diego says and then goes up to the door and breaks the lock with his Swiss army knife, like a glorified boy scout.

What they find inside is more of what they found inside the house in the city. A place filled to the brim with stuff. And to Klaus’s utter annoyance, it is very hard to distinguish the valuables from the junk.

They start halfheartedly looking through things, not even bothering to tidy much, just deciding that they’ll probably have to take anything that’s worth keeping and then hire a company to do the rest.

Klaus opens a heavy looking wooden chest and then springs back with a yelp.

“What?” Diego calls from the other room.

“Bees!” Klaus shouts in a high pitched voice and then edges back a little more, glad he dropped the lid back down in his panic, but still able to see the huge writhing mass of a hive before his mind’s eye.

“What the shit? Nah man! I don’t fuck with bees!” Diego has made it no closer to Klaus than to the door between the rooms and he’s apparently decided that’s as far as he needs to go.

“What do we do?” Klaus’s usually stoic brother asks him with a deep frown and a lot more worry in his voice than Klaus has heard in a long while.

“I don’t know,” Klaus answers, making his way over to find shelter in the other room, not particularly interested in getting stung either.

Then he has a thought, “But if the internet is to be believed, there are bouji white women all over the place who love nothing more than to scrape some bees out of any old crack or crevice, I’m sure we can find one who’ll help us with our little issue.”

He pulls out his phone and starts searching. Not quite sure what to type into google, he just tries the dumbest version of what he’s looking for. That usually works.

“Aha!” he exclaims, and Diego comes to look over his shoulder. Klaus reads out loud, “It says ‘The Bee Handler - we handle any bee trouble you might have’ sounds like exactly the thing we’re looking for. And this woman might be a bit older than I expected, but she’s excessively blonde and very bouji looking, don’t you think?”

“Call her!” Diego grumbles.

The bee handler lady says she has no appointments free for a removal for the next four weeks, but when Klaus explains that they have come all the way out to the cabin and weren’t planning on coming back, but need to be able to look through the rest of the bee infested room, and when he then also explains that they are willing to compensate her handsomely for her troubles, the woman promises to send her daughter along, who is apparently involved in the family business.

-

Klaus and Diego decide to edge their way along the wall of the room full of danger, just to get out of the cabin and wait for the bee handler’s daughter out on the porch.

When a huge, fuck off truck pulls up the dirt road about an hour and a half later and a woman climbs out the driver’s side, she turns out to be nothing like what Klaus had expected.

Klaus had imagined a tall, elegant, blonde woman, wearing a pastel coloured chiffon blouse, maybe a wide brimmed hat. Instead he finds that they’ll apparently be rescued from their bees by a tiny, very angry looking goth.

She clambers up onto the flat back of her truck, not having acknowledged Klaus and Diego yet, pulls a huge case down, and then stomps her way over to them, once shiny red boots getting duller with each step she takes along the dusty path.

“The directions you left for me were absolute dogshit, which one of you numpties do I have to thank for that?” Her accent sounds a lot more like their father’s than the woman Klaus talked to on the phone.

“That would be me,” Klaus answers, having no trouble keeping his tone excessively pleasant. He’s quite certain she just called him an ition, but if he got offended every time someone called him an idiot, he’d end up being constantly angry like his brother. The brother who’s gone oddly quiet.

Klaus turns around to Diego, as the woman stomps up the wooden stairs, and finds a very peculiar look on his face.

“Right, I’m Lila, I’ll be handling your bees today… yada yada, my mother insists I give you the spiel… for the branding. So, where are the little creepers?” the woman, Lila, drawls with a slightly blank expression, but her kohl rimmed eyes glow a bit brighter when she starts talking about the bees.

“Just this way,” Klaus swings his arm towards the door dramatically to indicate the way. “After y…” he trails off when Lila breezes past him entirely ignoring him.

He’s just about to follow her in, when Diego pushes past him, also saying nothing and with a slightly dumb, almost dreamy expression on his face.

Oh fuck, Klaus thinks. He’s forgotten about his brother’s thing for intimidating, angry women. This should be interesting.

-

Klaus can admit that at times Diego can be remarkably smooth. At other times he is a huge dumbass. These versions of him occur seemingly at random and apparently today Diego is incapable of pulling off smooth.

The two brothers spend most of the time that Lila takes dealing with the hive, back in the other room, watching from the doorway as she… does whatever it is she has to do… and Diego has made multiple attempts at small talk, but Lila keeps shooting him down with bored one word answers. Klaus likes her on principle for making his brother look like a fool.

Once she’s more or less done, she closes the lid of the chest and instructs the two of them to carry it outside so that the remaining bees that she couldn’t secure in her crate can fly out, once outside, and hopefully follow her along to her destination.

Klaus really doesn’t want to do any heavy lifting, and even Diego next to him seems reluctant to get too close to the bee infested chest, but it’s not like they have much of an alternative so they seemingly silently agree to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Klaus takes the front end, assuming his brother, who has much more in the way of brawn to offer, will have an easier time of keeping his end up when they make their way down the front steps.

They manage quite well, with hardly any cursing from Diego, and Lila follows them outside.

And then, to his genuine surprise, when they get to the dusty path in front of the porch, Klaus catches Lila staring at Diego where he’s gently putting down his end of the chest - Klaus just let his drop unceremoniously - and she’s thoroughly checking his brother out.

Good lord, Klaus thinks, Diego is lucky that he’s hot.

But somehow, nothing else happens. It seems, Diego’s given up on his pathetic attempts at flirting, and while Diego scribbles down his credit card information, Lila just looks at him with a slight scowl, as if he’s taking too long for her liking.

She gets in her truck and Diego ambles back towards the cabin, “C’mon Klaus, I want to be done here before it gets dark!” he calls.

“Right with you in a sec!” Klaus sing-songs back and thinks he hears a grumbled ‘whatever’ as Diego disappears back into the cabin.

Klaus makes his way over to the open car window where Lila seems to be sorting through some paperwork.

“What now?” her question dripping with irritation.

“Do you ever make it into the city?” Klaus asks, as casually as he can manage, which is very.

“How’s that any of your business?” Lila shoots back, giving him a very sceptical frown.

“Humor me for a second,” Klaus gives her his brightest, most disarming smile.

And apparently it works, because she shrugs and says “on occasion…”

“Then you should let me give you my brother's number!”

“Why?” Actual bafflement has made it into Lila’s voice, she doesn’t even sound quite so angry anymore.

“So you can call him up when you’re in the city, silly! Go on a date, have wild, sweaty sex, or whatever you kids want to do!” and when her mouth literally drops open in shock, Klaus goes on, “Oh please, are you telling me you didn’t notice him mooning over you?”

“He was?” she asks in a voice that’s significantly more quiet and softer than any other she’s used on them all afternoon. And Klaus can’t be sure with the dark brown of her skin, but he’s getting the impression that she’s blushing.

“Oh my god! You two idiots are made for each other. Give me your phone!” Klaus rolls his eyes at her.

Lila pulls out her phone and hands it over.

[minusthemurderfantasies-blog]

“Listen, there is something you gotta know before we go in there.” Erik warned. “I should’ve told you this a long time ago…” My thoughts raced in that pause.  Oh god that pause.  What could he have to tell me?  Was he married? Was this not his apartment? Was he homeless? Did he have a secret Joe Dimaggio bobblehead collection?  Oh god I don’t even know who Joe Dimaggio is? Or was? Is he dead? Can I google that without him noticing?  He saved me from my breakdown.  “How do I say this? My roommate, he’s uh, he’s… he’s a serial killer.”

A euphoric rush gripped my body and I started laughing harder than was socially acceptable.  I managed to regain my composure and reply, completely ignoring his stone-faced expression.  “Geez, you had me worried.  It’s no big deal, people have bad roommates.  I still want to meet him.”

“No you don’t understand, he is legit a serial killer.  He murders people.  What am I doing? I shouldn’t be getting you involved.”  Erik started to walk away from the door.  I put my arm out to block him.

“Nope, you’re not getting out of this that easy.  After all you’ve told me about your roommate I am going to meet him.”  He gave out an exasperated sigh and turned back towards the cheap wooden door.

“Your funeral,” he mumbled to himself. “Let’s just hope not for real this time.”

The lock turned with a rusty squeak and the door swung open and revealed the most stereotypical apartment owned by two twenty-something men.  An off-green sofa sat in the middle of the room in front of a coffee table littered with comics, magazines, and small origami figures.  The couch was flanked on either side by two chairs which could only be described as matching if you completely forgot what matching meant and were also blind.  One was a large recliner style leather seat and the other was a worn wooden chair that one would see in a museum of the earliest American colonists.  Both were probably found on a curb and hauled up to the apartment.  The seating trifecta was opposed by a large CRT TV.  You know the kind that would make your hair stand up and could transmit messages from the spirit world?  Their small kitchenette area was barren and most likely unused.  One wall of the apartment was mostly dusty windows with a poor view over the city.

The most interesting part of the room was the man standing at the other end, tossing darts at a board with casual accuracy.  He looked like the first search result for the word “hipster.”  He looked like he only listened to bands with more syllables in their name than fans.  He looked like the one to bring a complicated board game to a party and insist that everyone play it, no matter how little sense it made.  He did not turn when we entered. “Hey man.  Back so soon?  Did things not go well with whatsherface?”

Erik cleared his throat.  “Actually, Christine is here with me.”  The man spun and froze like a kid with a stutter at a spelling bee.  He raised his hand in a wave and his mouth hung open.  Erik continued, “This is my roommate, James.  James, this is Christine.”

I smiled and shook the embarrassed James’ hand.  “Nice to meet you, James.”

“Nice to meet me.”  Yep, this smooth operator was totally a serial killer.  “Oh wait, no, I mean, uh… oh hey, you’ve got something on your hand.”  I looked down and sure enough there was a red stain where his thumb had been.

Erik, pointed at the door that the dart board hung from.  “There’s a bathroom right over here, you can clean up in there.”  James stepped aside as I hurried into the bathroom without looking back.  What did I get the mark from?  I must have spilled something on me during dinner.  Such a great first impression.  I walked in and closed the door tightly behind me.  Oh god, this room smelled like death poorly covered by expired air freshener.  Okay, take it slow Christine, it’s not that bad.  And I’m sure Erik doesn’t care if I look a little dumb.  I looked into the sink.  Outside I heard James shout, “Wait, no!”  The sink was filled covered in a dark red liquid congealed into globbed.  At the drain lay an oval object covered in the red.  Oh god, is that… a human ear?  The world focused in on that ear.  My ears rang, my knees wobbled.  I did not hear the scream start to escape my throat, I did feel the gust of wind from the door flying open, I only smelt the chemical-scented rag which was clasped over my mouth and nose, I only saw the world go dark.

I awoke to shouting.

“What was that, James?!  You can’t just chloroform my girlfriend!  We have rules about this!”

“No, we have rules about killing your girlfriend.  Chloroforming is okay.”

“Chloroforming is not okay!  That shouldn’t have to be said.  It’s common sense.  Where did you even get chloroform?”

“It’s a mix of rubbing alcohol and bleach.  Look, I did what I had to, if she screams people ask questions and it gets bad.  What was she doing here anyway?”

“It is a perfectly normal thing for a guy to bring his girlfriend to meet his friends.  What was an ear doing in the sink?”

“You consider me your friend?” James’ tone was candid and slightly proud.

“Only because you keep killing the rest of my friends and girlfriends.”

“Name one time.”

“Lauren.”

“That’s not my fault, she wore orange on the sixteenth!”

“Her dress was peach!”

“Fine, name three more.”

“Assad, Cindy, Greg.”

“Assad took up two parking spaces, and you have no proof that I am to blame for Cindy’s disappearance.”

“What about Greg?”

“Greg was a dick, I did you a favor there.”

“Greg taught underprivileged kids music.”

“Yeah, but did he have to be so pretentious about it?  Oh look at me, helping the children, I’m so righteous.”

“You’re a monster.”

“I’m a monster that pays rent.”

“Really, you’re bringing this up now?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Okay how about the fact that there was a human ear in the sink.  What happened to keeping it out of the apartment.  Rule seven James, rule seven.”

They stopped shouting when they noticed me watching them.

Erik started, “How you feelin?”

“What. The. Fuck. Erick?  ‘How you feelin?’  Really?  Is that be best you can do.  There is a dismembered body part in that bathroom and you want to know how I’m feeling?  I’m feeling scared, I’m feeling confused, I’m feeling pissed the fuck off.”

“I… I tried to warn-”

“Oh no, don’t you dare tell me you told me so.  I thought you were kidding and you didn’t stop me.  How could you bring me here?  How could you live with this freak?”

“Don’t call me that,” James growled.

“What, you don’t want me to call you a freak?  I’m sorry, I should be more considerate of the fucking murderer.  You are a sick, psychotic freak.  So what, you’re going to kill me too now?  Am I just going to become another ear in your sink?”  I glared at Erik with disgust. “Is that why you brought me here?  Am I just another victim?”

“It’s not like that Christine.  We made rules for him, he doesn’t kill anyone I know.  He only kills bad people.”

“Oh great, he’s like fucking Dexter.  And from what I hear his track record isn’t too good with that anyway.”

“That was before the rules.  Trust me, you’re safe.”

“Trust you?”  I shook my head in disgust and stood up.  “Goodbye Erik, have fun in jail.”  I strode towards the door.  I felt air rush pash my hair and heard a loud thunk as a knife embedded itself in the door.

“Sit down,” James commanded, his hand already grabbing at one of the knives at his belt.  I obeyed.  “Now shut up and listen.”  Erik tried to intercede but James silenced him with a glare.  “You are not a victim.  As far as I am concerned you are a friend.  Your protection continues until that ceases to be true.  Now going to the police and turning us in is not something a friend would do.  If I see you climbing the steps to the precinct, you will be dead before you reach the top; if I hear you calling the cops, you will be missing by the time the operator picks up.  Do you understand me?”  I nodded, too scared to breathe.  “You have learned a lot today, and I don’t expect you to like all of it.  However, you will live with it.  Understood?”  This time I managed to whisper a meek affirmation.  “Good, well in that case I am going to bed.  Erik, would you please drive Christine home?  Good night and good luck.”  And with that James retreated into one of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Erik and I did not speak the entire drive back to my apartment.  The silence was too thick to be cut.  The dark of the city was oppressive.  I shrank with each shadow and rejoiced in the light.  That car ride may have been the longest of my life.  Finally, like hikers summiting Mount Everest, we reached my apartment building.  I unbuckled and fled the car without waiting for Erik.  I locked the door, slid the bolt, and checked each window securely.  When I was ensured of my isolation I fell upon my bed into a deep sleep.

I awoke beneath my sheets refreshed and anew.  Free from the nightmare that plagued the night before.  That’s what it had to be right?  A nightmare?  I would tell Erik all about it today.  He would enjoy it, he always enjoyed hearing about my dumb dreams.  My relief was short lived.  Its end was marked by my heart stopping for several beats.  There upon my dresser, something that was not there the night before.  I approached the dread object like a parent in a horror movie approaching their child’s crib.  Sitting amongst frames filled with family and sanguine memories was a leatherbound journal.  Laying on top of the journal was a note:

“Sorry for snapping last night.  It’s going to be rough, but here’s a friend that you can talk to

-James”

    And that was the beginning of my friendship with a serial killer.