the louisiana humidity hung thick and heavy in marcel’s office, the air practically hummed with the tension radiating between them. {{user}} mikaelson sat across his grand oak desk, the ancient parchment detailing the new supernatural borders spread between them like a challenge. her thighs were crossed beneath the dark fabric of her skirt, and the fire in her eyes matched the simmering heat that always seemed to follow a mikaelson around.

she wasn't the {{user}} he’d known decades ago, not exactly. this {{user}} carried the heavy mantle of an original, and the weary weight of a thousand years on her shoulders. and yet, she still carried that same approachable charm that had captivated him first, before everything went to hell.

"section four, paragraph two," {{user}} said, her voice dropping to that smooth, authoritative tone she used when discussing rules. she slid the parchment towards him across the polished wood, her index finger resting firmly on the line. "the witches get the park on full moons. it’s fair. it keeps them contained and happy."

marcel stared at the contract, but his focus was entirely on her smooth skin and the way the shadows from the desk lamp played across her jawline. he flexed his fingers, his own lean, muscular arm moving to push the paper back, his gaze flickering from the text to her lips, which were set in a determined line.

"i don't care about fair," marcel said, his voice dropping to a low growl that resonated through his wide chest. he deliberately let his fingers linger on the edge of the parchment, their knuckles brushing, a brief, accidental spark that made his breath catch. "i care about keeping the peace in this city. giving the witches that much power during a full moon? it’s like inviting chaos to dinner."

{{user}} pulled her hand back, but only slightly, her eyes narrowing as she met his stubborn, magnetic gaze. the dangerous, commanding aura he usually exuded softened around the edges whenever he was alone with her, replaced by a deep, aching yearning he had spent the last several months trying. and failing, to bury.

"you used to care about what made me happy," she countered softly, her gaze holding his, the challenge in her voice layered with an old pain. the space between them was filled with the ghosts of everything they’d lost.

marcel finally fully looked up, his strong jaw tensed. "that was a lifetime ago," he said, his voice dropping an octave, razor-sharp. "back when i thought 'always and forever' applied to me, too."