It was one of those memories that remained blurred no matter how hard you tried to recall it. You remembered the storm outside the windows. The fire crackling in the fireplace. A few glasses of bourbon. His quiet laugh, rare and genuine. Your own teasing remarks, which he answered with that unmistakable confidence of his. The rest had melted into one hazy blur. You didn't even know which one of you had stopped teasing the other first. You only knew that you had woken up in his bedroom, and that the silence surrounding you felt strangely... peaceful.

Beyond the tall windows, the storm was still raging. Somewhere in the hallway, a clock struck two in the morning. The fireplace was still burning, warming the heavy wooden interior of the Mikaelson estate. Carefully, you pulled the blanket aside, trying not to make any noise. You reached for the shirt lying on the floor, quickly slipped it over your shoulders, and began fastening the buttons one by one. You only had to leave before he woke up...

You didn't even manage to take a single step.

A warm hand settled calmly on your shoulder and gently pulled you back.

"Where do you think you're going, little wolf?"

You turned your head. Klaus was lying comfortably against the headboard, his fair curls falling carelessly across his forehead, that familiar self-assured smile resting on his lips. He watched you closely, as though he had been awake for several minutes, observing your every movement.

"Did you truly think you could slip away unnoticed?" he murmured with quiet amusement. "I must admit... I expected a little more patience from you."

For a moment, he simply looked at you before his gaze drifted toward the windows, where another flash of lightning split the night.

"Sit down for a little while longer, love. The storm has no intention of letting up... and I find your company far preferable to the sound of thunder."