Who: Wash and Klaus What: Randomly meeting When: Recent Where: Pizza/sub shop Rating/Warnings: None Status: Complete!
There had been a time not really all that long ago when Wash had pretty much survived on take-out. There was a little pizza and sub shop a block away from his old apartment that he’d frequented enough that at some point they actually started to refer to him as Wash rather than the name on his debit card. That was probably one of the biggest reasons he kept going back there. That and they made some pretty amazing calzones.
Wash was cooking more and more these days. He could make a pretty good casserole if he had a recipe to follow. Unfortunately given that the latest invasion of Orange County had required Wash and Carolina both to be out fighting the literal forces of the undead, neither’d had the chance to do the weekend shopping and as a result, their pantry was extremely bare.
Not a huge deal, though. This gave Wash the excuse to go to his favorite pizza and sub shop, sit down, relax, and actually enjoy one of those amazing calzones.
Wash ordered his usual -- he was nothing if not a creature of habit -- and stepped to the side and waited for the to make it.
Now that the zombies were gone things had returned to normal. Or a semblance of normal. Klaus had new dreams, he was apparently a hybrid in them. Not only that but his b rother informed him that the dreams caused him to literally become a vampire. Freya was dreaming now too, and also Marcel. The fact that Marcel deemed of him and his family was a bit unsettling. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Of any of it honestly. There was so much.
The only way to handle it all was drink or distract himself with art. He had been drinking a lot lately, looking at art was probably a better option. He spent the day exploring a few different galleries, making note of what was missing, What the county needed. Just in case he did decide to stay and start his new gallery here.
On his way back to Kol’s he passed a pizza and sub shop. Klaus’s stomach growled reminding him he needed to eat, and a sub sounded perfect right about now. He pulled into the parking lot, getting out of the car and heading into the shop. After ordering himself a meatball sub he also stepped to the side waiting for his order to be made. “Do you come here a lot?” he asked the person next to him. The food certainly smelled good but it wouldn’t hurt to get the opinion of a regular. If tin fact the other man waiting was one.
The sub shop wasn’t very big and there really wasn’t much room for people to wait for their food and Wash didn’t like sitting at one of the booths with nothing in front of him. He felt like he was taking up space doing that, even if he was going to be eating in just a few minutes. So he tended to linger by the wall at the end of the counter while he waited. From there he could see most of the tiny restaurant including the front entrance as well as the door to the kitchen. Deeply ingrained training and experience made it important to him to not have an entry point at his back.
Wash himself, wasn’t much for making small talk himself, but it wasn’t all that unusual that others waiting for their food to want to do something to pass the time. And talking was more social than simply looking at one’s phone.
Wash looked at the man next to him with a casual shrug. “Yeah, often enough,” he said. The place certainly did smell good. The shop itself may have been small, but they always seemed to have orders being made for take-out or delivery. Something was always cooking in the back. “The calzones here are pretty amazing.”
“I’ll have to remember that for next time,” Klaus commented fully turning his attention to the man beside him. “It’s been awhile since I lived here.” Small talk wasn’t exactly Klaus’s strong suit, but he was trying. If he was going to stay in Orange County he needed to be a bit friendlier. Make more friends, not enemies. Especially if he decided to open up a gallery. Networking was part of the job. Even if this man had no interest in art, there was still a chance he would go to the gallery simply because he knew Klaus.
Which led him to… “I’m Klaus.” He would normally offer a hand to shake but this wasn’t exactly a formal setting. Nor was it a formal introduction. Just casual conversation while they waited for their food.
“Call me Wash,” Wash answered and left his name at that. He’d sent enough time explaining the unique name he went by. Saying it was a callsign opened up more questions, especially for those who had never been in the military, and this guy probably didn’t want to hear all of that. Not while he was waiting for his dinner.
“Are you moving back?” Small talk wasn’t Wash’s forte, either, but he could try. No harm in that. It past the time at least. “Where were you living before?”
Wash wasn’t the more common name. But then neither was Klaus. However he wasn’t going to press the man on if it was a nickname or his name. Klaus actually had three names himself. Niklaus was how he introduced himself in a more formal setting, and it was also what Elijah called him. Rebekah called him Nik, but he mostly went by Klaus. “Pleasure to meet you Wash.” There was some truth to it as well. It was a pleasure to meet anyone with food advice.
“It’s beginning to look that way.” It hadn’t been the original plan. He had just come to regroup, spend time with his siblings. But amidst the dreams, Marcel’s return and Freya considering staying, he couldn’t really imagine himself leaving. “New Orleans.” It was more a home to him than Orange County ever was.
“Pleasure to meet you too, Klaus.” Wash nodded. He tilted his head a little at the way Klaus answered his first question. There seemed to be a story there. Wash was human, curiosity was only natural. But Wash also knew his place. He didn’t like people prying into his life and would often go out of his way to keep people from doing so. Therefore, he offered the same courtesy to others. Unless they were outright harming themselves...or others…
Even if you were no longer serving, you never stopped being a marine.
Though, Wash couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to leave New Orleans for Orange County. Yeah, ok, unless Klaus was on the network and Dreaming, he’d have no way of knowing about all the weird stuff that went on here. Not to say that weird stuff didn’t happen in New Orleans (or anywhere else for that matter), but compared to Orange County, New Orleans had to have been the better pick. At least from what Wash’d heard. He’d never actually been. Maybe the guy was just homesick.
“You picked a hell of a city,” he said with a chuckle. “But welcome back. I hope the transition goes easy for you. Moving sucks.”
“I’ve noticed.” Funny, he didn’t remember things being quite so insane ten years ago, but he could have just been oblivious. He had enough going on in his own life with Mikael. He hadn’t had any strange dreams back then either. That all started after New Orleans, but apparently his siblings had been dreaming for awhile.
“Thanks,” Klaus added. Despite what others thought he did have manners. “You’ve lived here long?”
It seemed as though several lifetimes had gone by since Wash had first moved to Orange County, but it had only been two years, nearly three. So much had happened in such a short amount of time.
Wash shook his head. “Not really. I’ve lived here for almost three years. I moved here after I was discharged from the Marines.” It had been a move of convenience really. After being discharged from the VA hospital in LA, he hadn’t had a lot of choices. LA was too crowded for him, but he’d been expected back at the hospital routinely for check-ups. Orange County -- Seal Beach to be specific -- seemed like the only logical choice. So Wash had moved there, discovered the network and the rest was history.
“Thanks for your service,” Niklaus replied. It was the proper thing to say after all. But Klaus also knew someone who had been in the Air Force. Marcel. The man was his practically his brother. It added to his respect for those who served. “Any other places you can recommend?” For food that was.
Wash was never sure how to respond when someone thanked him for his service. He was as patriotic as the next person, sure, but it wasn’t as though he’d joined the Marines out of some sense of duty or patriotic pride. The Marines had simply been an opportunity for him to leave an abusive home life. Someone thanking him for making that decision always made him a little uncomfortable.
That being said, he had known plenty of people in the service who had sacrificed and made a difference and certainly deserved to be thanked. His own discomfort shouldn’t be a reason to discourage someone for wanting to thank a serviceman. “You’re welcome,” Wash answered, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Other places?” Wash asked. “Like to eat? Uhm. Yeah. What kind of food do you like?”
Niklaus could tell the other man wasn’t all that comfortable being thanked for his service, it was the way he was rubbing the back of his neck perhaps. That was fine. He was content to let the subject drop. He had given the appropriate response. The conversation could move on now.
As for his taste in food? Well he had become quite accustomed to the cuisine in New Orleans. “Jambalaya, boudins, po boys, beignets, gumbo.” All those were pretty New Orleans specific though. So he went on to some other foods he enjoyed. “Fried chicken, crab, pizza. I’m going to guess the latter are more common here.” He didn’t really have to guess. He knew.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Wash shrugged. “I’ve never had jambalaya or gumbo, but the community around here is pretty eclectic, so if you’re looking for that kind of thing I’m sure you can find it.” He pulled out his phone, a little curious himself now. “Search for jambalaya,” he told it. He started scrolling through the results. “As for the other stuff. This place,” he pointed to the floor to indicate the restaurant they were currently in, “has the best pizza as far as I’m concerned. There’s a seafood place in Huntington Beach that has pretty good crab. Hey, this place serves Cajun food and has five stars on Yelp,” he handed his phone to Klaus to have a look.
Klaus could have looked it up on a phone himself. Still he glanced over the other man’s phone. “I’ll have to check it out,” he commented handing it back to him. However, even with the five stars he was fairly certain it wouldn’t be like the food back in New Orleans. He kept that tid bit to himself though. Klaus may be a bit of a snob when it came to art and food, but he did have a filter. “But I suppose I picked the right pizza place without even realizing. Next time I’ll have to order a pizza.”
Sure Klaus could have looked it up on his own, but he’d asked Wash. It seemed like the right thing to do to look it up for him. Food, of course, was subjective. Wash liked this place because the pizza didn’t have a thin crust and was liberal with their cheese. They also didn’t have pineapple as an option and as far as Wash was concerned, pineapple did not belong on a pizza. But for all he knew Klaus was a thin-crust-pineapple-on-the-pizza kind of guy.
“It might not be as good as what you have in New Orleans,” Wash stated the same thing Klaus was thinking, “but there are all kinds of different people here. I didn’t think I’d find Middle Eastern cuisine as good as I had it when I was stationed in Iraq, but,” he shrugged, “I did find a place. It’s all the way across town, though, but totally worth the traffic.” He put his phone away just as his name was called for his order.
The calzone he received was massive, barely fitting on the white ceramic plate handed to him. It was piping hot and full of marinara sauce, meat and about three different kinds of cheeses. And it smelled amazing! Wash grabbed a fistful of napkins and started towards a table, then paused. “Hey,” he glanced at Klaus, “you wanna join me at a table? Standing up here by yourself can be awkward as hell.”
Klaus would have to agree with Wash about pineapple. He didn’t like his fruit warm, or on a pizza. Vegetables? Sure that worked. But not fruit, especially pineapple.
Had his thought been that obvious? Oh well. He liked what he liked. “I’ll do my best to keep an open mind.” Not that Wash cared if Klaus did or not. The guy was a stranger.
When the man’s name was called Klaus eyed his calzone. It did look appetizing. He could at least admit that. He wasn’t expecting the invitation to join him at a table, but why not. He didn’t have anything better to do while he waited. “Sure,” Klaus said following Wash over to the table. “That smells delicious,” he commented on the calzone. Maybe he would have to order that next time, instead of a pizza.
The offer had been genuine, but Wash hadn’t expected Klaus to actually join him. He had seemed a little standoffish. Not rude or anything like that, just that he kept to himself. Which Wash understood and could appreciate. He wasn’t normally this chatty with people he didn’t know, but he also knew what it was like to be new to the area. Even without the occasional madness this place could be overwhelming. It may be nice to have someone to talk to outside the family, even if it was only a couple of minutes. Having someone to talk to was one of the reasons Wash had signed on to the network in the first place.
“You wanna try this?” He asked, motioning to his food before he started eating. “That way you’ll know if you want to order it next time.”
Klaus had met a few people outside of his family so far. But even without that his siblings kept him plenty busy. He had six of them, and all but one was in the area now. But if he was going to open his own gallery he needed to branch out more. So he followed Wash to the table taking a seat.
Niklaus wasn't expecting Wash to offer him food. “Uh, sure. You have a knife?” Cutting off a piece was preferable than putting his mouth on someone else's food.
Wash had picked up a knife and a fork before sitting down. Calzones could easily be eaten with one’s hands, but this kitchen liked to give them out piping hot. It was always a good idea to start eating it using utensils than burning your hands. He cut the calzone in half and then cut another decent sized piece from the center so Klaus would get a good taste of the filling and not just the doughy part of the ends. He put the slice on a napkin and pushed it towards the other man and handed over his fork. While Klaus took his taste test, Wash got up and retrieved another fork.
Klaus eagerly at the bite. It was better than it smelled that was for sure. Wash returned and Niklaus grinned at the man. “Yeah, I’m definitely going to have to order that for myself next time,” he commented. “Thanks for the bite.” Literally.
Just then he heard his own name being called. “Well, that’s me,” he said standing up to grab his meatball sub.
Wash grinned back. Klaus may as well have complicated him on the cooking, but he was glad that the other man liked the calzones. This place was small and Wash thought it needed more recognition than it got. “You’re welcome. I’m glad.”
Wash glanced towards the counter when Klaus’s name was called and nodded. “I hope you find it easy to settle in here. I’ll see you around.” And knowing this place, he probably would.