Devil's Angel ° {K.M}[Rewriting]

{046}

My Brother's Keeper
———
"Well, I hope you know how proud I am you were created with the courage to unlearn all of their hatred. God, I hope that you're happier today, 'cause I love you and I hope that you're okay."
—Olivia Rodrigo {hope ur ok}
———

-

America rolled over in the mass of sheets and pillows, furrowing her brows when she rolled into a vacant space rather than a body. She peeled open her eyes, squinting at the rumpled, empty spot before the sound of the door opening caught her attention. The woman covered a yawn as she craned her neck to look, huffing softly in amusement at Rosie tiptoeing in with a mug in hand, the girl's attention glued to the drink she was determined not to spill. Behind her, Klaus trailed in just as slow, endearingly patient in a way that brought a smile to her face. "Well," she rasped, still caught up in her slumber, "good morning, flower." 

Rosie glanced up, expression beaming. "Good morning! I made you coffee." America pushed herself up onto her elbows, smiling softly, "Aw, thank you, munchkin." The little blonde closed the rest of the distance between them, the woman sitting up to take the cup before Rosie clambered onto the bed and burrowed beneath the blankets. "You're welcome!" She chirped, America smiling fondly at her enthusiasm as she settled back against the headboard. Minutes ticked by as she sipped at the contents of her cup, her hand carding through blonde hair as Rosie drifted back off to sleep.

The young woman stifled another yawn as she lolled her head to the side to peer at Klaus where he sat in an armchair, the hunter's sword perched on his lap as various sketches of the hunter's tattoo lay spread out on the coffee table. She was quiet, watching him turn the dial on the hilt this way and that, and it seemed he, at the very least, expected something from her as he raised his gaze warily after some time. "Your silence is only slightly unnerving." She snorted, sparing the man a squinty-eyed glance. "If you expected me you jump down your throat for every little twitch, sorry to disappoint—plus, I have bigger problems."

He arched an inquiring eyebrow at her, America noting it a moment later and flashing a wry smile. "I'm pretty sure Elena's sired to Damon." His reaction was immediate, the woman forcing a look of exasperation at his laughter. "Nik, it isn't funny." The amusement in his eyes disagreed. "No, quite frankly it's hilarious that those two have managed what is nigh impossible between vampires." She didn't quite share the sentiment, huffing her dissent as she moodily sipped at her drink. "It's not. Damon is completely unaware, making his usual comments, and Elena takes them literally—it's a problem. This whole cure business is, with Jeremy, and then Atticus Shane's ties to Connor and Hayley."

Klaus hummed as he turned the sketches of the tattoos this way and that, observing the symbols with a frown. "And what of Hayley Marshall, an orphaned werewolf trying to seduce Tyler Lockwood, connects to the college professor?" America drained the last of her mug, leaning over to set it down on the bedside table before she settled again. "Tyler's with Caroline, Nik. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that." Even as she said it, however, she wasn't sure. Hayley, after all, was staying at the mansion with Tyler, unbeknownst to Carol and Caroline's knowledge even though the latter knew the two were. . . acquainted.