napalm skies <<>> kol mikaelson

01

Charlotte faced the man fully, her smile falling away within the blink of an eye. "You're drunk," she started, her words dripping with venom as she glared at the man before her.

He let out a guffaw, his tipsy smile looking unnatural on his young and perfectly structured face. He gave her a pointed look, his blonde eyebrows raising in amusement. "Sorry, I didn't even realize," he replied, somehow able to sound sarcastic while she continued to glare at him.

She rolled her bright blue eyes, shaking her head at his antics, before approaching him. "Well, let's get you to your room," she told him, and he actually allowed her to take one of his arms and lead his collapsing body to the stairs. It was a challenge, especially with the fact that the man seemed to have no more strength left to carry himself, but she finally made it to the top. She pursed her lips in revulsion at his burps and incoherent mumbling, finding this situation increasingly familiar as she remembered helping her father to bed many nights. It seemed as if she was trading one man in for a carbon copy of her father if she ever decided to marry John.

"Come on," she ushered, leading the wandering drunk down the hall, passing pictures and paintings as they approached the white door to his room. Just as they reached it, he collapsed onto the hard floor, groaning as he landed straight on his face. Charlotte—her hands full with his body—somehow was able to open the door handle, the two of them falling into the dark room.

Charlotte left him on the ground for a moment as she lit one of the candles nearby, spilling just enough light over the room for her to navigate through. She returned to his shifting form, heaving him up slightly and groaning as she did so. He offered her no help as she practically dragged his body to the bed, throwing him upon the—fortunately—low matresss. He bounced once, his feet hanging off the side. She sighed, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear as she squatted down, pulling his brown boots off of his feet. He turned his head to the side to look at her while she worked, and she could feel his gaze burning a hole into the side of her head. She ignored his stare as she maneuvered the other boot off his foot, setting the pair down at the end of the bed.

Standing up, she pulled the comforter from the tucked-in position, throwing it to the side. She bent down, grabbing his feet and dumping them on the mattress in the same manner as she had his upper body.

He bounced once more, and she grabbed the comforter again, ready to drape it over his still-clothed body. However, he suddenly pulled himself up onto his elbows, his eyes planted on hers.

"Wait, wait, wait," he mumbled, his hand waving at her own as he tried to sit all the way up. She furrowed her eyebrows, watching curiously as he grabbed onto her hand, abruptly bringing it to his lips. She recoiled in surprise, instinctively pulling her hand but he didn't let go, his eyes closing as he laid a kiss upon the back of her hand.

"John," Charlotte warned, pulling her hand once more as she warily looked the man over. He seemed as if he were trying to memorize the smell of her skin, and she immediately felt uncomfortable at the out of character behavior. She was bent down in a slightly squatted position on the side of the bed, not quite sitting on the mattress but not quite off of it either. It made the situation even more uncomfortable, and Charlotte hoped that the man would fall asleep soon.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled against her hand, his eyes opening and the brown color staring intently into her own blue ones. He did not move his mouth from her hand, and she could feel the words against her skin, causing her to shiver at the sudden warmth. "You're just...so beautiful."

Charlotte smiled tightly, trying once more to pull away but unable to. "Thank you, John," she said politely, goosebumps forming on her skin from the weird situation. "Maybe we should talk more in the morning, when you're sober."