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3. (tvd) and we could help each other off the ground;
title: and we could help each other off the ground.
fandom: the vampire diaries
characters/pairings: kol, rebekah.
rating: pg.
words: 1321.
summary: kol's looking in the mirror. again. or rebekah and kol bond for a few moments over kol's hopelessness.
notes: set somewhere between 3x14 and 3x20. for katie, who gave me the prompt anything you can do, I can do better ♥. title from faber drive's tongue tied. ( also on AO3. )
Kol’s looking in the mirror. Again. It’s not a surprise, really. It’s taller than him, wider than him, and he hasn’t bothered to move it into his room where he can admire himself in private. Everything is always a spectacle with her brother. He’s not one to perform, but he’s an entertainer when the mood strikes him.
She doesn’t find him entertaining.
Ever since he’s come out of the coffin, Rebekah knows there’s a guarantee he’s looking at himself in the mirror. He’s either looking at the fine hairs of his eyebrows, or running his fingertips through his dark hair, or even looking at how modern day jackets with their sharp lines fit on broad shoulders that aren’t quite used to anything so exquisite. He’s always looking at himself. It’s nice to know that things don’t change over the years he’s spent locked in a coffin. Sometimes.
She thinks about leaning against the door, but she does this every time. She leans, he primps, and they bicker until Mother splits them up or Elijah alludes to something along the lines of being adults, please, for everyone’s sanity, act like them. His hands are fiddling around his neck, pulling at a tie. Kol’s wearing something she expects him to wear to a ball or a fancy dinner; nice slacks, white dress shirt, and a charcoal coloured tie.
His lips are pursed as he seems to peer closely at the mirror, leaning in, eyes settled somewhere around his jugular. She watches him for what feels like a century before she rolls her eyes, sighing, and approaches him with heavy footsteps that remind her of a brat. “What are you doing?”
He takes a few moments to fiddle with his tie, knotting it as if it’s a ribbon rather than a piece of fashion. He tears at the knot, breaking the fabric free. “Isn’t it obvious, Rebekah? I thought you had such a keen sense of observation.”
“Shut it, Kol,” she says it as she comes to stand beside him. When she turns, she sees she’s half in the mirror. Even when she’s next to him, as his equal, despite being a little bit shorter, he still manages to take up the entire room with his ego. “I’m not the one who can’t do something simple.”
“I can do it,” he says, wrapping his tie around his neck again. It’s heavy on one side and short on the other. She knows this will end in him huffing in frustration. Kol follows a pattern when he does his own ties; half of it hangs off his right shoulder while the fabric barely touches his left. She wonders where Mother is to correct him, or Elijah. His fingers pull at it hard, determined to prove her wrong. She knows his anger will have him either breaking the tie or failing again. “Unlike you, I’m capable of many things.”
Rebekah makes it a point to step fully into the mirror, looking at herself as Kol loops the tie and forms a knot, but ends up missing a few steps and ends up folding it as if it’s a bow tie. It’s uneven on one side and looks extremely bulky. She imagines this is what Christmas presents wrapped by small children would look like. “But a mere human task is not one of them, apparently.” She’s unsure how he even manages to tie his own shoes.
“Is there something you needed, dear sister?” his tone is clipped, eyes narrowed, and he pulls at the tie to loosen it with a harshness in his grip that’s rather familiar to her. Kol’s sharp, always has been, when Nik used to be soft. “Besides my company, of course. You seem to be unable to go without it at least once every day.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she narrows her eyes at him, breaking her gaze away from her reflection to stare at his own. “I only come see you as Nik as too busy obsessing over that boring girl.”
She expects it to hurt. She’s forgotten, despite the years they’ve shared, that Kol doesn’t show his feelings as she does. She wears hers on her sleeve while he buries his deep inside himself, using it as ammo when he’s ready to burst into a fit of rage. Kol’s eyes move to hers in the reflection, a smug grin pulling at his mouth. “His doppelganger is a real treat.”
“You’ll never have her as a treat, Kol,” Rebekah says, somewhat disappointed. Elena Gilbert’s stolen her brothers, much like Tatia and Katerina did many years ago. The same face has more pull than blood. “Not if Nik has it his way.”
“Since when has Niklaus ever had his way?”
Rebekah grits her teeth, staring unamused at her own reflection. Kol goes at his tie again, attacking it with hands fumbling with anger and strength that needs to be taken out on a punching bag or a Salvatore than on sheer fabric. “Here,” she says, darting in front of him and slapping his hands away from the tie. She undoes it, her hands softer on it than his, and keeps her gaze on the fabric as she pulls at it, making it even on either side as it hangs around his neck. Kol’s problem is that he’s always in a hurry, never taking the time to slow down and observe the things around him. She slowly folds it over, looping it as Nik and Elijah do when they dress, and forming a proper knot that doesn’t look as though a child has attempted to mimic his father’s. It’s smooth and even, looking as though he’s ready and presentable for one of their mother’s balls. She makes a point to run her hands over it, smoothing it out. “You’re completely hopeless. You always have been.”
Kol makes an effort not to look at her. He doesn’t flinch away from her or slap her hands away like she knows Nik would do now. Kol may be filled to the brim with pride, but she always knows he’ll come back to her for the most mundane things. “Not always,” he manages. Glancing to the mirror, he seems to puff out his chest as he grins lopsidedly, “I have always been the most handsome.”
Rebekah can’t help but smile a little. She doesn’t mind if he sees it, either. “That’s why you have me, though. I can’t let you go out in such a state of disarray.”
“Ruggedly handsome is what they call it nowadays, Rebekah. Get with the times, yeah?” He raises his eyebrow, outright grinning now. “You’re a teenager, after all. At least pretend to be hip ... Or is it fetch? I’m unsure of what the goal is these days.”
The tie’s to her satisfaction. Rebekah moves away, stepping back and to the side as Kol stares at the knot, running his hands over it. “You really need a hobby,” she says.
“I have one.” Kol makes a point of looking at himself directly in the mirror, though his eyes flicker to hers as he smiles.
“Feeding your own ego is quite pathetic, Kol.”
“And so is assuming you don’t enjoy these moments we spend together, Rebekah,” he says. He looks at her as though it’s a secret they share. She knows that when there’s darkness, despite him being as equally dark, Kol can bring the light she craves. It’s usually in the form of a poor joke at Nik’s expense.
Rebekah turns towards the door, retracing the steps she took to meet Kol at the mirror. Now is her cue to exit. Once she and Kol start to agree on enjoying the other’s presence, Rebekah finds herself missing Henrick. With a glance over her shoulder, she smiles, “That wouldn’t be cool.”
She’s able to see Kol shift, mouth agape, before she turns completely. Behind her, he shouts, “I’m totally cool!”
fandom: the vampire diaries
characters/pairings: kol, rebekah.
rating: pg.
words: 1321.
summary: kol's looking in the mirror. again. or rebekah and kol bond for a few moments over kol's hopelessness.
notes: set somewhere between 3x14 and 3x20. for katie, who gave me the prompt anything you can do, I can do better ♥. title from faber drive's tongue tied. ( also on AO3. )
Kol’s looking in the mirror. Again. It’s not a surprise, really. It’s taller than him, wider than him, and he hasn’t bothered to move it into his room where he can admire himself in private. Everything is always a spectacle with her brother. He’s not one to perform, but he’s an entertainer when the mood strikes him.
She doesn’t find him entertaining.
Ever since he’s come out of the coffin, Rebekah knows there’s a guarantee he’s looking at himself in the mirror. He’s either looking at the fine hairs of his eyebrows, or running his fingertips through his dark hair, or even looking at how modern day jackets with their sharp lines fit on broad shoulders that aren’t quite used to anything so exquisite. He’s always looking at himself. It’s nice to know that things don’t change over the years he’s spent locked in a coffin. Sometimes.
She thinks about leaning against the door, but she does this every time. She leans, he primps, and they bicker until Mother splits them up or Elijah alludes to something along the lines of being adults, please, for everyone’s sanity, act like them. His hands are fiddling around his neck, pulling at a tie. Kol’s wearing something she expects him to wear to a ball or a fancy dinner; nice slacks, white dress shirt, and a charcoal coloured tie.
His lips are pursed as he seems to peer closely at the mirror, leaning in, eyes settled somewhere around his jugular. She watches him for what feels like a century before she rolls her eyes, sighing, and approaches him with heavy footsteps that remind her of a brat. “What are you doing?”
He takes a few moments to fiddle with his tie, knotting it as if it’s a ribbon rather than a piece of fashion. He tears at the knot, breaking the fabric free. “Isn’t it obvious, Rebekah? I thought you had such a keen sense of observation.”
“Shut it, Kol,” she says it as she comes to stand beside him. When she turns, she sees she’s half in the mirror. Even when she’s next to him, as his equal, despite being a little bit shorter, he still manages to take up the entire room with his ego. “I’m not the one who can’t do something simple.”
“I can do it,” he says, wrapping his tie around his neck again. It’s heavy on one side and short on the other. She knows this will end in him huffing in frustration. Kol follows a pattern when he does his own ties; half of it hangs off his right shoulder while the fabric barely touches his left. She wonders where Mother is to correct him, or Elijah. His fingers pull at it hard, determined to prove her wrong. She knows his anger will have him either breaking the tie or failing again. “Unlike you, I’m capable of many things.”
Rebekah makes it a point to step fully into the mirror, looking at herself as Kol loops the tie and forms a knot, but ends up missing a few steps and ends up folding it as if it’s a bow tie. It’s uneven on one side and looks extremely bulky. She imagines this is what Christmas presents wrapped by small children would look like. “But a mere human task is not one of them, apparently.” She’s unsure how he even manages to tie his own shoes.
“Is there something you needed, dear sister?” his tone is clipped, eyes narrowed, and he pulls at the tie to loosen it with a harshness in his grip that’s rather familiar to her. Kol’s sharp, always has been, when Nik used to be soft. “Besides my company, of course. You seem to be unable to go without it at least once every day.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she narrows her eyes at him, breaking her gaze away from her reflection to stare at his own. “I only come see you as Nik as too busy obsessing over that boring girl.”
She expects it to hurt. She’s forgotten, despite the years they’ve shared, that Kol doesn’t show his feelings as she does. She wears hers on her sleeve while he buries his deep inside himself, using it as ammo when he’s ready to burst into a fit of rage. Kol’s eyes move to hers in the reflection, a smug grin pulling at his mouth. “His doppelganger is a real treat.”
“You’ll never have her as a treat, Kol,” Rebekah says, somewhat disappointed. Elena Gilbert’s stolen her brothers, much like Tatia and Katerina did many years ago. The same face has more pull than blood. “Not if Nik has it his way.”
“Since when has Niklaus ever had his way?”
Rebekah grits her teeth, staring unamused at her own reflection. Kol goes at his tie again, attacking it with hands fumbling with anger and strength that needs to be taken out on a punching bag or a Salvatore than on sheer fabric. “Here,” she says, darting in front of him and slapping his hands away from the tie. She undoes it, her hands softer on it than his, and keeps her gaze on the fabric as she pulls at it, making it even on either side as it hangs around his neck. Kol’s problem is that he’s always in a hurry, never taking the time to slow down and observe the things around him. She slowly folds it over, looping it as Nik and Elijah do when they dress, and forming a proper knot that doesn’t look as though a child has attempted to mimic his father’s. It’s smooth and even, looking as though he’s ready and presentable for one of their mother’s balls. She makes a point to run her hands over it, smoothing it out. “You’re completely hopeless. You always have been.”
Kol makes an effort not to look at her. He doesn’t flinch away from her or slap her hands away like she knows Nik would do now. Kol may be filled to the brim with pride, but she always knows he’ll come back to her for the most mundane things. “Not always,” he manages. Glancing to the mirror, he seems to puff out his chest as he grins lopsidedly, “I have always been the most handsome.”
Rebekah can’t help but smile a little. She doesn’t mind if he sees it, either. “That’s why you have me, though. I can’t let you go out in such a state of disarray.”
“Ruggedly handsome is what they call it nowadays, Rebekah. Get with the times, yeah?” He raises his eyebrow, outright grinning now. “You’re a teenager, after all. At least pretend to be hip ... Or is it fetch? I’m unsure of what the goal is these days.”
The tie’s to her satisfaction. Rebekah moves away, stepping back and to the side as Kol stares at the knot, running his hands over it. “You really need a hobby,” she says.
“I have one.” Kol makes a point of looking at himself directly in the mirror, though his eyes flicker to hers as he smiles.
“Feeding your own ego is quite pathetic, Kol.”
“And so is assuming you don’t enjoy these moments we spend together, Rebekah,” he says. He looks at her as though it’s a secret they share. She knows that when there’s darkness, despite him being as equally dark, Kol can bring the light she craves. It’s usually in the form of a poor joke at Nik’s expense.
Rebekah turns towards the door, retracing the steps she took to meet Kol at the mirror. Now is her cue to exit. Once she and Kol start to agree on enjoying the other’s presence, Rebekah finds herself missing Henrick. With a glance over her shoulder, she smiles, “That wouldn’t be cool.”
She’s able to see Kol shift, mouth agape, before she turns completely. Behind her, he shouts, “I’m totally cool!”