❝ from the dining table! ❞
·° 。: ✰ : ·° 。
THE MORNING SUN CAME quick and early, which wasn't surprising given how late she'd went to bed. Though it felt like minutes, she and Nik were on that terrace for hours.
Her heart was beating so fast that there was a minute she thought it endangered her life. A distraction was the solution to divert her mind from thoughts of him.
So, the Monet spent the rest of her evening (after what happened on the terrace, at least) talking to her family on the phone. A conversation with them was long overdue, anyway. She was happy they were having an excellent time settling in and rediscovering France, but was sad she wasn't with them.
Afterwards, Rosalie found herself staring at the ceiling of the four-poster bed and twiddling with the sun pendant, yet again. The piece of jewellery brought her so much comfort and solace in times of anxiety, but knowing who it was from...
It was his words on that letter.
It was his last name.
Mikaelson.
The 'M' on the back of the sun stood for Mikaelson, she realized. Rosalie thought she probably should feel offended, as it could imply he owned her; but she never felt that way. After months of knowing him, it made her feel more connected to him and his family.
The kiss kept replaying in her mind. Every look, every touch, every kiss. She'd been the one to pull away, saying a soft 'good night' with a shy smile just before she slipped back to the bedroom. He just watched her, smiling back, looking a bit dazed himself.
Rosalie was perpetually giddy that she barely got a wink of sleep. It was a cycle of thinking about him and trying to find a distraction.
Attempting to sleep was futile, so the Monet paced back and forth within the bedroom walls. She walked over to one of the two doors in the room, only realising she hadn't explored the room yet.
Peeking through the crack of the door, the brunette found a bathroom her mother would kill to have.
White and grey marble was everywhere, decorated with streaks of gold she was sure to be authentic. On one side was a shower with clear walls, and an enormous bathtub on another. The towels and toiletries on a wooden cabinet were perfectly organised, it made her heart sing.
Entering further, she saw herself reflected by the mirror on her side, with a pearly white sink below it. The table it was on looked like it was made of mahogany, similar to the cabinet.
She peeked through the drawer under it, finding a variety of things: unused toothbrushes, tubes of toothpaste, soap and shampoo both lavender-scented, some razors, and most notably: men's shaving cream.
She agreed with the way they were arranged, but the last item caught her off guard.
The Monet shrugged it off, deciding to move on. The curtains back in the bedroom were pulled open, so she could see the telltale colors of the sunriseㅡpurple, orange, blue, and pink. She barely held herself back from staring at it in awe. After all, she still had another room to check out.
The second room was a walk-in closet, the wall of one side was lined with a long, wooden dresser covered in varnish. A small portion of it was topped with small bottles she figured were cologne. On the other side, less than half filled, were hangers upon hangers of leather jackets, suits, button ups, hoodies, all that of which were obviously men's wear.
Rosalie gulped, feeling the fabric on one of the long-sleeved Henleys. She knew someone who loved wearing those. The Monet rushed out of the closet, feeling it being far too stuffy.
As she looked around the bedroom, she was struck with the thought that everythingㅡthe design, the layout, the shaving cream, the styleㅡscreamed his name.
Oh God.
All this time, I've been sleeping in his bedroom.
Without meaning to, her gaze drifted to the bed. He's slept there.
Rosalie blushed a deep red, forcing herself to stop thinking about it. The brunette groaned at her ridiculous behavior. Stop acting like a teenager, you're an adult.
She repeated the mantra in her head, thinking she could escape her thoughts if she escaped the room.
·° 。: ✰ : ·° 。
For Original vampires, they sure slept like they needed it. It couldn't be later than 6AM, so Rosalie couldn't really blame them. She made her way down the staircase, finding that the halls were empty.
The Monet always thought the décor was so pretty in the mansion. From the outside, the colonial house looked semi-traditional; but the interior was a blend of antique and modernised designs.
Red velvets, dark woods, pearly whites and cremes, it all blended with each other nicely. The floor to ceiling windows were a favorite of hers, especially the ones at the back because it gave an overview of the grenery in the compound. There were hints of Greco-Roman and Italian architecture here and there, and she loved discovering them as she went along.
Record players, a grand piano, fancy lamps, cozy couches, polished table sculptures, patterned wallpapers, hardwood and tiled floors. It was a beautiful sight.
But her absolute favorite feature were the paintings that lined the walls.
It was always something different in every area. Some featured landscapes of nature or cities, some were abstract, some vibrant and colorful, some in monochrome or black and white; there was no shortage of creativity.
Rosalie could spend hours admiring the art, but she really wanted some coffee so her brain would function after the night she had. However, she'd been so immersed in her art session that she failed to notice the other presence in the living room.
Rosalie froze, just as she took a step.
"Hi," the brunette exhaled, stunned. She was planning on mentally preparing herself for an encounter with him, to think of what to say and how to act. The slow smile and soft look in his eyes made her gulp.
"Good morning, love." Nik said, completely unaware of her internal breakdown. He was standing by one of the windows, this time bathing in the first rays of sunlight instead of moonlight.
"Are you alright?" He furrowed his eyebrows, hands in the pockets of his black hoodie.
She nodded, a bit too quickly. The brunette tried to think of something to say, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. This. This is why she wanted to prepare herself before meeting him. Nik always seemed to reduce her mind to putty, and with the kiss...
She blushed at the memory, staring at the floor.
"Did you sleep well?" Nik asked, moving closer. Her heart raced faster as he was in a nearer proximity, looking calm and not at all nervous to be in her presence (or so she thought).
"Barely." The brunette muttered, trying to dampen the desert in her throat. There was about a meter between them, but she was so aware of his presence. It seemed to consume every thought she had.
Nik frowned. "Nightmares?"
"No." Rosalie sounded breathless as she chuckled, "No, nothing like that. And you? Did you sleep well?"
She finally looked up, gaze connecting with his. A shiver ran down her spine at the emotion in his ocean blues. The Monet could only watch as a small grin grew on his lips.
"Not in the slightest." He hummed, looking far too happy for someone who was sleep deprived.
"Nightmares?"
"Nothing like that." Nik smiled a smile so stunning, it stole the breath from her lungs. He gestured in the direction of the kitchen, "Come on, I'll make some coffee."
How did he knowㅡ
Oh.
Oh.
Rosalie fought the urge to groan, how could she forget? They'd been lovers in a past life, she recalled, finding herself to be increasingly curious about it.
'You know him.'
A chill ran through her as she remembered what Willow had told her as a ghost a few months ago. The brunette knew she couldn't question the blonde about it, given how she remembered nothing about her former life. Why would anyone outside Nik and her want to remind her of their past relationship?
"Love?" Nik stared expectantly, patiently waiting for her. "Which blend do you want? You can take a look in the cabinet and choose."
"Yeah, sorry about that." Rosalie followed him through the hall.
Like every room in the mansion, the kitchen was just as stunning. Overhead cupboards, endless counters, a huge island counter in the center, a separate pantry...
Basically, heaven on earth.
She browsed through the selection of coffee, and was bombarded by a multitude of options. Rows upon rows of packages in different colors were arranged in an orderly manner in the stock room.
"You sure love your coffee." Her eyes lit up, in awe of the selection before her, some in languages she identified as Arabic, Spanish, Italian, and others she couldn't even name.
The blond bit his bottom lip, trying to prevent himself from smiling at her delight. None of the Mikaelsons loved coffee as much as Rosalie did, which was exactly the reason he had every possible blend, from multiple countries, delivered straight to their cupboard once the Monet agreed to temporarily stay in the mansion.
The decision to stay close to a family of Original vampires, to live under the same roof, was one made purely out of fear. There were too many threats out on the streets, too many unknown variables, that Rosalie was honesty scared for her and Willow's life. Though that was the case, Nik was ecstatic to have her close all the same.
Once she chose a blend (dark hazelnuts), Nik immediately got to preparing the coffee machine. "So, what do you want for breakfast?" He asked as he worked.
The prospect of cooking raised her mood even further. As the eldest child, with both parents busy with work, she was tasked to cook most of the time. Her siblings helped with other household chores, but they were too young to be trusted with fire at the time. It started her love for cooking as she slowly found it to be therapeutic.
"Uh, what do we have?"
Scrummaging through the cupboards and the fridge made her realise there were a number of food combinations possible, because the Mikaelsons were stocked. From fresh produce to imported materials, if you could name it, they had it. Rosalie wondered if they were secretly preparing for the apocalypse.
Ultimately, they decided to make hashbrowns, sunny-side-up eggs, turkey bacon, and toasted sour bread. Rosalie wanted to work on the potatoes, so he was assigned to watch over the frying pan.
They worked around each other, minimal words exchanged, which was mostly from Rosalie as she inquired where certain things were placed. Neither of them mentioned the night before. On the surface, they worked quite amiably with one another.
But the subtle touches he placed drove her insane. It was barely there, but her skin was left burning in his wake. She didn't know if it was intentional or he didn't realize what he was doing.
She'd been struggling to reach flour on the cupboard, so he placed a hand on her hip, chuckling as he reached over her head. There wasn't anything remotely sexual about it, his back didn't even touch her, but the heat that radiated from him made her throat dry.
Then, he touched her arm, turning her to face him. He simply removed something on her shoulder, mumbling that there was a speck of lint
Another time, he peered over her shoulder as she was grating the potatoes, humming, "Should I start the fire, love?"
She wanted to yell it was already too hot in the room, but she only nodded mutely in reply. By the time breakfast was cooked, the sun had risen and Rosalie felt just as fiery.
The smell of coffee and their cooking made the room smell heavenly, reminding Rosalie of mornings back in Mystic Falls.
Nik poured her a cup of coffee, to which she added sugar and a dash of milk. Though he slid it over the counter, her fingers managed to brush against his when she accepted the mug, mumbling a small thanks. The first sip had her moaning in delight. "Oh, that's perfection."
The blond heaved a breath at her reaction, "I'm glad you like it."
She savored the taste on her tongue, finding the aftertaste delightful.
"Did you know the most expensive coffee in the world is fermented in elephant poop?" Rosalie shuddered, "It's sounds so disgusting, and it costs about a thousand dollars a pound!"
Well, that was a thousand dollars worth of poop coffee he had to throw away.
One by one, they brought platters of the bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns to the dining table. Distracted, Nik had forgotten to toast the bread. Now, he had to wait for the toaster to do its job, only handling two slices at a time.
The Monet leaned against the kitchen island, with him on the opposite counter, patiently waiting for the bread.
Rosalie bit the side of her cheek, trying to figure out how to bring the subject up. The Monet stared at her coffee. "So, uh," she dragged, "Why have I been sleeping in your bedroom?"
Just fantastic. She'd gone and mortified herself again. Honestly, it was a mystery how she managed to navigate social situations without ever sounding like an awkward idiot, most of the time.
She felt his gaze burning a hole through her, but she didn't dare look up.
Eventually, he spoke, sounding slightly shy himself. "I thought it would be more comfortable than the guest room."
Which is probably where he's been sleeping all this time, she thought. Before she could reply, however, a pair of footsteps thundered down the stairs. Even without supernatural hearing, anyone with a pair of working ears could hear how loud it was.
"Well, good morning, Rosalie!" Kol beamed, walking in the kitchen wearing a dark brown robe that was probably made out of furs. "What's cooking, good looking?"
"Hashbrowns." Nik deadpanned, annoyed, yet again, at his brother's interruption.
"Wasn't talking to you," Kol mumbled, nearing the Monet to give the side of her head a friendly kiss. He had the audacity to throw Nik a grin when she laughed.
God, he wanted to strangle Kol so bad.
"Good morning, Kol." Rosalie chuckled, "I hope you're hungry."
"I'm always hungry for your cooking, darling." The Mikaelson replied, taking a seat. "You should come sit beside me."
"Youㅡ" Nik narrowed his eyes, barely stopping himself from launching a chair at his brother when Rosalie indulged in his idiocy.
"I smell Rosalie's cooking!" Willow cheered, entering the kitchen with a grin on her tired features. She immediately took the seat on Rosalie's other side. Rebekah followed ensuite, ruffling Willow's blonde curls.
The Mikaelson grinned devilishly when the kid swatted her hand away. Rebekah laughed before sitting on the chair opposite of the Monet.
"Where's Elijah?" Rosalie inquired before sipping on her coffee.
Kol snorted, pilling eggs onto his plate. "Probably ironing his suit."
"You should know better than that," the man in question walked in, wearing a suit, "I iron suits at the beginning of every week."
Rosalie, Rebekah and Willow snickered at the snobbish tone his reply took on. While Nik merely rolled his eyes. The hybrid plated up the toasted bread, sighing when he noticed the only free seat was the one in front of Kol.
With everything and everyone in place, they started to eat breakfast. It wasn't long before an argument broke between Kol and Rebekah, with Willow goading them and inserting come backs here and there. It was slightly chaotic, but the banter was something that made Rosalie grin.
She kept making eye contact with Nik, with him already looking at her everytime she turned her gaze; and everytime, she blushed and quickly looked away.
The brunette couldn't help but smile as she looked around the room, filled with the people she'd started to treat like her own family.
Family.
Her heart warmed at the word.
There were a lot of things she didn't understand about herself, so much uncertainty clouding her future; but this was something she was sure about.
Though she was terrified, she knew she would always have this moment: eating breakfast with her second family, bathe in the soft glow of sunlight.
author's note!
I LOVE THEM SO
MUCH I CANTTTT
behold: kol mikaelson,
the original third wheel
❝ be kind. ❞
➥ please consider voting and/or commenting to support the story,
thank you!