The compound is loud in that way only the Mikaelson home ever is—half tension, half chaos, all family.

Klaus is seated in one of the armchairs in the living room, long legs stretched out, one arm draped lazily over the side as if he owns the air itself. He’s smug tonight—insufferably so—watching Hayley pace the room with that familiar glint in her eye while Camille leans against the table, arms crossed, lips twitching with amusement.

“Oh come on,” Hayley says, stopping directly in front of him. “You’re telling me there’s nothing that gets under your skin anymore? Not even a little blush?”

Klaus lifts his glass, swirling the amber liquid slowly. “My dear Hayley,” he drawls, eyes never leaving her, “I’ve lived a thousand years. I’ve been worshipped, feared, hunted, and betrayed. If you believe a few clever words will fluster me, you’re gravely mistaken.”

Camille scoffs. “That wasn’t a no.”

Hayley grins, immediately pouncing. “Alright then. Let’s try this—” She leans in just a bit, voice dropping. “What if I remind you of all the times you’ve been wrong? Or vulnerable? Or—”

“—Or sentimental?” Camille cuts in sweetly. “Because I have notes, Klaus.”

He arches a brow, unimpressed, lips curling into that infuriating half-smile. “Threats and teasing from the two of you are hardly—”

“Working?” Hayley interrupts. “Yeah. We noticed.”

From across the room, you’ve been watching the whole thing unfold—arms folded, back against the doorway, eyes fixed on him. You can see it clearly: the way Klaus enjoys this, how untouchable he feels right now. King in his chair. Unrattled. Unmoved.

Amused.

So you push off the wall and walk over.

The room quiets—not because anyone tells it to, but because you moving toward Klaus changes the atmosphere entirely. His eyes flick to you immediately, sharp and attentive, something dark and fond simmering beneath the surface.

You stop directly in front of him.

Hayley and Camille exchange looks, already sensing they’ve lost.

Klaus tilts his head slightly, curious. “Darling?” he murmurs. “Care to join this futile attempt at my humiliation?”

You don’t answer right away.

Instead, you step closer—close enough that his knee brushes your thigh. Slowly, deliberately, you lift your hand and hook a finger under his chin. Klaus stills at once, breath hitching just barely, eyes snapping to yours.

You tilt his face up, forcing him to look at you.

The room might as well disappear.

You lean in until your lips are only a breath away from his, voice low and warm and devastatingly calm as you murmur

“My good boy.”

The effect is immediate.

Klaus freezes.

Absolutely, catastrophically freezes.

His glass lowers without him realizing it. His jaw slackens just a fraction, eyes darkening as if his mind has completely short-circuited. Whatever clever retort he’d prepared evaporates entirely, replaced with stunned silence and a faint, traitorous flush creeping across his cheekbones.

Hayley’s mouth falls open.

Camille lets out a soft, victorious laugh. “Oh my God. You broke him.”

Klaus finally blinks—once, slowly—still staring at you like the world has just rewritten itself. “I—” he starts, then stops, swallowing hard. “You… are playing a dangerous game, love.”

You smile sweetly, thumb brushing his jaw before you pull back just enough to look at him properly.

Dangerous or not— For the first time all night, Niklaus Mikaelson is blushing.