Who: Klaus and Prince Tom When: After This Conversation Where: Bar What: Bourbon for Breakfast Rating/Warnings: Low/Drinking, language Status: Complete
Niklaus wasn’t kidding about bourbon for breakfast. Soon he’d be bound to the responsibilities of being an art professor, so there was only a limited amount of time to drink up and cope with the newfound strangeness that came with dreaming about another life. When he first heard about it all, he called bullshit quick, even to his own brother’s face. Now karma had bit him right in the ass and left a nasty mark, because the last few nights had been a sequence of dreams that felt as if he was living through a movie. A movie that felt all too real, as if he was actually living and breathing in them.
Starring, of course, his dysfunctional family. His father continued to favor Nik as his punching back even in this alternate reality, and their mother mourned Henrik’s death at the hands of werewolves by casting a spell of immortality on them. One that brought them a constant need to feed. Then, of course, the revelation of his mother’s betrayal in her affair with a werewolf and Niklaus being the result from it. Nevertheless, having his very bones break during his transition into a godforsaken hybrid had been strangely painful to wake up from.
The bar had been particularly empty, but what could someone expect during the early hours of the morning? The bartender herself seemed to be a little ecstatic about some kind of business coming in, at least. The first drink he ordered, he downed instantly.
The second one he toyed with between his hands in thought.
Tom showed up to the address he'd been given, looking forward to some hard drinks. He'd had some dreams the night before, and they were... different. Not what he was expecting. Actually, quite disappointing. He'd heard of vampires and werewolves, and villains and magic. There was none of that in his dreams. Just... singing. And acting like a jerk. A charming jerk? But he'd met a beautiful woman at the ball, and that was confusing. Because he didn't know her name. But it was Cindy, wasn't it? It had to be. There were confusing feelings. In this world, she was just Cindy. A friend. But in the Dreams? She was a goddess.
It was early enough in the morning that Tom wasn't surprised by the state of the bar. He moved over to the man sitting there, assuming this was the guy from Valarnet, and ordered a bourbon. When in... well, a bar... do what the barflies do?
He didn’t have to look up to know that the seat beside him was taken. Unless visiting a waterholing such as this was a sudden popular trend, Nik could only safely assume this was the stranger that decided to join him for ‘breakfast.’
Now that some time passed, Nik downed his second drink and slammed the glass back down on bar top. “So, I’m going to assume you’re that nice stranger on the internet joining me for a drink.” He smirked at him, dimple showing. “I’m Nik.”
"Nik." Tom repeated, giving the other man a nod. He wasn't really smirking, not smiling, but not entirely unhappy, either. Tom was a pretty easy-going, friendly guy. If Nik was a woman, Tom would be a whole lot more charming. But it was nice to drop the pretenses and just be for a while.
"Tom." He added. "I hope you don't mind the company. I needed an excuse to get out of my own thoughts for a while. Thanks for providing it."
“And what’s got you bothered?” Nik had his reasoning displayed all over the internet - it was all the senseless blood he spilled in those dreams. Over the course of many, many lifetimes. So many corpses. So much running. So much daggering his siblings for being defiant little shitheads and carrying them around in caskets. He sure knew how to keep his family together.
“Dreams.” Tom said. He’d told Hans that Hans would be the first to know about his dreams, and he stood by that. He wasn’t ready to talk about it just yet. He hadn’t known that he would be so confused about it all. That was the part that shocked him the most. Otherwise, the Dreams weren’t bad. Not bloody or violent or anything. Just damn confusing. “And you’ve got the same problem?”
“Unfortunately.” What else would warrant a day starting like this? Niklaus dreamt he was a monster beyond redemption without any desire to change. There was a reasoning behind it, yes, but he didn’t know if he that reason was worth all he’d done to his siblings. “Anything interesting you’d like to share?”
“They’re not as bad as yours, man,” Tom said, lifting the glass to gulp down some of the amber liquid. He took a moment to swallow, then give a gentle wince at the burn. The burn was good. “From the sound of it, anyway. Just really confusing.”
“Can’t argue much there.” Confusing was another good word to describe it, aside from ‘fucking ridiculous.’ He’d been a little more biased towards the ‘fucking ridiculous.’ Nik’s liquor tolerance had been hardened by college years and kept up post-degree, so he shamelessly requested another pour even with the bartender passing him an unsure look. “So, Tom. What do you do that allows you the luxury of coming to a bar bright and early in the morn?”
“I run the Orange County branch of my father’s investment firm,” Tom explained. “No meetings today until two, so I’m all yours for pre-lunch drinking.” He downed the rest of the amber liquid in the glass and ordered another. Tom could pack it away, too--though he’d have to watch it if he wanted to be of any use at the meeting later. “And you’re starting work soon?” He’d read as much on the Valarnet post.
“A university had a child pornography scandal with an art professor, and some former mentors gave me a sterling recommendation to the department head. So I’ll be taking over soon.” A terrible situation, sure, but at least it benefited him someway. Lately he didn’t know if he had the patience to go back to high school level teaching. “Although I suppose if I just showed up drunk, I might actually blend in with the class.”
"Wow." Tom couldn't help but smirk. He really wanted to laugh at that. Kiddy porn? Seriously? It was the sort of thing that you hear about, but almost never believe. Who does that sort of thing? "Yeah, when I went, college was full of drunk students. Well, more hungover students than drunk ones." Tom had been one of those students. For sure.
"You'll be teaching Art, then? Painting and figure drawing and all that?" Tom asked, motioning toward the bartender for another round.
“And the history, which is usually everyone’s least favorite thing. But the drawing and the painting, all very standard. Really, there’s nothing to the art career other than teaching.” Hence the coined term of ‘starving artist.’ “My father wished I would have done the smart thing. Gone onto something more business related. An investment type of thing, like what you have.” Nik drained his glass, deciding it’d been his last and kept it away for good.
Enough of that. He’d get sloppy at home, where he wasn’t in public and didn’t need to worry about driving anywhere.
Tom would nurse the next glass. He had a warmth in the pit of his stomach, and that was enough for him. For now. If he really wanted to get trashed it would have to be after the day was finished. Bourbon for breakfast was great to take the edge off, but this was about all he'd do.
"My father wished the same for me," Tom agreed. He turned to look at his new friend. "Sometimes I wish I'd followed my own passions. Now I don't know if I have any anymore."
“I opted to give no fucks and ignored his desires,” Nik said, shoulders lifting into a shrug. For the longest time he did all he could to please his father, until he realized no matter what he did, being the bastard son would always make him be the hated one. “Gave me a certain degree of freedom. I’d advise you do the same before you know for sure that passion’s gone.”
“That’s an idea.” Tom said, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass. He thought about it for a moment, tapping his fingers gently against the rim of the glass. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” He added, unsure where his passions might lie. Art? Literature? Music? Television? Maybe Tom would be a whiz at computers if he tried. Or something else? He honestly had no idea. All he really did with his spare time was wander around from bar to bar meeting people, making friends, drinking… god, his life was empty.
“You seem fairly young still,” Nik assumed, giving the man a look over with a tilted brow. “You’ve got plenty of time to decide. I’m still at odds with my father, and always will be, but at least I never catered to his asinine assumptions of what I should be in life. He’s an ass, though. I’m hoping yours is much more pleasant and somewhat understanding.”
Who knows. Parents could either mold you into a better being or damage you like no one else could. Calling Mikael ‘father’ at this point had been out of spite, because that man had done damage only a father could do to him. Here, and there, wherever ‘there’ was in those dreams.
"My father is a good man." Tom said. And that was true. His father ruled with a strong hand, but there was compassion there. Tom had learned from his real world father the same way he'd learned from his Dream Father. They were different men, both strong and capable, but also giving. Tom's father even had a playful streak. "But he wants me to follow in his footsteps, even if that's not my lot in life."
Tom shifted on his stool. "I think his heart is in the right place, even if his methods are questionable. I don’t think he cares about anything outside of business practices and family."
“Then welcome to the rest of your life,” Nik said, tapping the bar top to retrieve the bill for his drinks. Alcohol had warmed him up and his mind swam midst a pleasant buzz, but he was still very much coherent. “Not to be judgy or anything, but it’s your life to live. Not his. If he’s a good man as you say, he’ll come to terms with that.”
Tom nodded. He paused for a moment, then gave the other a grin. “You’ve got a lot of good advice, you know that? I might just have to take it.” He motioned to the bartender for his bill as well. He could go and have a nap before his meeting at two.
“It’s the bourbon talking.” The corner of his lips sharply tilted into a smirk. He finished signing the receipt with a generous tip and slipped it into the rocks glass for the girl. “Maybe next time when shit hits the fan, we’ll celebrate by bright and early intoxication again.”
“Looking forward to it.” Tom responded, lifting his glass in a toast.