Vexing Hexes
Summary: MC, Nik and The Graveyard Shift regulars discuss curses after a few too many drinks. When it’s clear MC has had enough, Nik comes to her rescue.
Pairing: Nik x MC (Klara)
Length: 2,229
Note: Slightly random, but the idea popped into my head after seeing a Reddit thread, and I couldn’t resist. It was a slow day at work, so I spent a while thinking up various ‘minorly inconvenient curses’ to amuse myself (most of which haven’t made the fic as they were, ironically, a bit NSFW). It’s set early on in the book; around chapter two-ish.
Vexing Hexes
The Graveyard Shift was starting to quieten down. The customers leaving in dribs and drabs until only Klara and her new friends were left. Nik was alone at one end of the bar, nursing a drink, while Ivy and Krom sat together a few seats away. Garrus bustled around them all, cleaning up the now empty tables.
Klara was in a booth on the opposite side of the bar. Just moments before, it had been filled with laughter and conversation from a group of girls out for a night on the town. Klara had noticed them the moment they arrived. Their brashness and carefree attitude drawing her in as they moved confidentially into the bar.
Approaching the table, the round of shots she’d offered had earned her a place in their group. She’d hoped to get lost in their party atmosphere. To pretend there wasn’t a cursed entity out to kill her. That ghosts and goblins and whatever else weren’t real. That she was normal. And it had worked, for a while. Their fast-paced banter and acceptance grounding Klara, allowing her to stay in the moment with them. Until they left, Leaving Klara in a bar with a nighthunter, an undead goth, a member of the fae and a troll.
It was like the beginning of a bad joke, she thought mirthlessly. Knocking back the last of her drink, Klara sets the empty tumbler on the table, wincing at the loud bang. Looking up, she can see Krom and Ivy glance over at her and feels her gut clench uncomfortably. She has nothing against them – quite the opposite, in fact – but they were a visual reminder of her recent upheaval. As he meets her eyes, Krom turns away, but Ivy smiles at her, beckoning her over.
Klara hesitates, her eyes briefly sweeping over the empty seats around her. Shaking her head, she hauls herself up from her seat, only to trip over the table leg. She only just catches herself – her hand gripping a nearby chair as her vision swims in front of her. Maybe that last round was a mistake, Klara thinks, smiling wryly even as she feels her ears grow hot. Fidgeting, she straightens her clothes, running her suddenly sweaty hands over the thighs of her jeans before she feels steady enough to move.
Thankfully, she makes it to the bar without further incident and falls into the seat beside Ivy. There’s a sudden silence and a shifting in seats as she sits, an atmosphere that speaks of a swift end to a conversation that Klara hopes was not about her. Feeling hot, Klara clenches her hands against her legs. She doesn’t think she could take anyone asking after her right now. Quickly, before Ivy can ask how she’s feeling, Klara spits out the first thing that comes to her.
“If you were going to curse someone, what would you curse them with? Not a big curse. It would be more of a mild inconvenience. Like…” casting her eyes around the room, Klara snorts as sees the booth she’s just came from. “Always tripping over when you stand up!”
She knows she’s rambling; and worse yet, slurring her words. Knows it’s probably inappropriate to discuss curses with someone who gave up most of her life to save the world only to end up ‘undead’. It’s why she can’t quite meet Ivy’s eyes and faces the bar instead.
Thankfully, Ivy doesn’t take offence. When she laughs, Klara’s head snaps up to look at her, a small smile on her face. “That’s a hard one,” Ivy muses. “What do you think?” She asks Krom, her purple eyes shining with amusement.
Krom tilts his head, his gaze moving from Ivy to Klara as he mulls it over. “What if, their hands were always sticky?”
“Hand sanitizer would fix that!” Garrus interjects, winking at Krom. “What about this: they always take the wrong information down. Phone numbers, orders…that type of thing. No matter how much they check and double-check, it’s always just a little wrong.”
“Oooh, that’s evil!” Klara crows, delightedly. Garrus grins at her, clearly pleased.
“Getting an itch, just when you get comfortable,” Ivy adds, her head nodding in emphasis. “I used to hate that.”
“Road works or a flat tire whenever you really need to be somewhere,” Klara suggests, laughing.
“Or the bus or train breaking down if you don’t drive,” Krom adds, smiling.
“And it’s raining!” Garrus calls out.
“What about,” Nik declares loudly. “What about, an eye floater that never goes away.”
“They’d always be twitching,” Klara says, her tone thoughtful.
Titling his glass in her direction, Nik grins, crookedly. “Exactly, rookie.”
“Hmm,” Ivy muses. “People always mistaking them for someone else, but not in a good way.”
“Or mistaking other people for someone they know. They’d always end up being embarrassed.” Krom adds.
“Oh, I know!” Klara exclaims, almost bouncing in her seat in excitement. “No matter how much you straighten your hair; it’s always frizzy!” Sitting back, she grins at all of them, clearly pleased with herself, until a small frown creases her forehead. “And vice-versa, of course.”
Laughing, Ivy raises an eyebrow at Klara. “That’s your ultimate mild inconvenience?”
“You have to admit it’s frustrating?” Klara defends, and she can’t help but run a hand through her hair distractedly.
“Yeah, I go through that every day.” Nik deadpans.
“We can tell,” Garrus says, looking pointedly at Nik’s hair. Nik merely rolls his eyes, refusing to take the bait.
“These curses,” Nik starts, turning to Klara. “Are they petty on principle?”
Opening her eyes wide, Klara gasps. “You think our ideas are petty?” She asks, using her hand to cover her mouth with an audible slap. At seeing Nik’s shocked expression, Klara has to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. Not being much of an actress. However, the look of shock is short-lived, quickly turning into a scowl.
Grinning cheekily, Klara winks at him. “Less petty, more of a vexing hex.” Klara giggles at this, delighted at her attempt at a pun.
“A vexing hex?” Nik repeats. His jaw works a moment as if sounding the phrase out. “You drunk, rook?”
Taken aback, Klara momentarily tries to catalogue what she’s drunk, quickly losing count. The group of girls she had sat with were big on shots, she knows that much.
Seeing her confusion, Garrus smirks at her. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t. Your friends seemed to be making their way through the drinks menu.”
“Eh,” Klara shrugs. Placing her hands on the bar, she pushes herself to her feet. Or at least, tries to. The sudden motion makes her stagger, her hip banging against her stool, making it rattle against the floor. Looking up to see the others staring, Klara’s hands twitch at her side as she fights the urge to bury her face in her hands. “Ok, maybe I’m a little drunk.” She concedes, her ears burning once more, and she knows her face has gone blotchy in embarrassment.
Ivy smiles at her reassuringly while Garrus chuckles. Hearing a snort, Klara glances at Nik to see him shaking his head. Downing the last of his drink, he stands up. “It’s getting late,” Nik states, beckoning for Klara to follow him.
He doesn’t even look, just expects her to follow. Feeling her mouth go dry, Klara scowls. Was she at his beck and call now? They’d only just met. He had no right to tell her what to do. She wasn’t the one who hired him, after all. If that story was even true.
“It’s not that late,” Klara challenges. Wincing as her words come out more petulant than she’d hoped for.
Nik raises his eyebrow, his lip twitching into a small smirk, and Klara can hear a rushing in her ears as her pulse races. Is she a joke to him? She thinks. Her fists clenching at her sides as she envisions slapping the smirk from his face.
It’s then Klara notices that Ivy, Krom and Garrus have averted their eyes, busying themselves with other things and avoiding her gaze. Relaxing her hands, Klara sighs as she runs a hand over her face, her anger quickly fading. She can’t remember the last time she felt so worn out. Looking up at Nik, she sees him watching her, his face unreadable. “You’re right,” she says, smiling ruefully. “It is late.”
Face still passive, Nik holds his hand out to her once more, watching her carefully. ‘C’mon, rook.” His tone is almost pleading, and it makes Klara’s decision for her.
Walking towards him, Klara stumbles a little; her ankle turning over and sending her lurching to one side. She’s stopped from falling by Krom’s quick reflexes as he grabs her arm. He holds onto her, making sure she has her footing before letting go.
She can barely meet Krom’s eyes as she stutters through her ‘thank you,’ and it amazes her that she can go from never wanting to leave the bar from wanting the whole building to disappear around her in such a short space of time.
Ducking her head, Klara watches her feet in concentration as she closes the distance between herself and Nik, each step feeling like she’s wading through mud. Thankfully, she makes it there without further incident, Nik’s calloused hand coming up to clasp her arm tightly.
Klara tenses momentarily but relaxes as Nik squeezes her arm in reassurance. She murmurs her goodbyes as Nik calls out his goodnights, and then they’re heading out, Nik leading her gently beside him, keeping her steady and upright. With his guidance, Klara’s steps feel a little less cumbersome, but she still stumbles as they come to the stairs, her toes jarring painfully as they hit the riser, forcing her to lurch forward.
How many times can I trip in one night? Klara thinks, as Nik’s arm snakes, it’s way around her waist to pull her close. She allows herself to lean against him, her head on his shoulder as he hauls them up the rest of the stairs. Her eyes start to close half-way up, their heaviness getting harder to fight as everything seems to blur around her.
They come to a halt in front of the door to Nik’s apartment, and Klara can hear Nik curse under his breath as he struggles to get the keys and open the door. Taking in a breath through her nose, Klara hums a little as she lifts her head. “Do you need a hand?” It comes out mumbled, masked heavily with sleep and Klara clears her throat to try again.
Nik chuckles dryly, his arm tightening against her. “I think I’ve got it.”
Humming happily as the door opens, Klara settles back against Nik, her hand coming up to grasp at his jacket as she nuzzles into his neck.
“Klara!” Strangely, Nik’s voice comes out strangled, and Klara’s head snaps up, her eyes wide as she scans the room.
“What’s wrong?” Klara asks as she turns from the empty room to face Nik.
His eyes are on her, his gaze travelling over her face, searching…but for what? The thought makes Klara frown as her mind races, struggling to clear the drunken fog that’s settled over her. They’re close, close enough for Klara to smell the alcohol on his breath and as the moment drags on, it builds with an intensity that Klara knows is important but can’t quite grasp.
“Nothin’,” he smiles, breaking eye contact with a small sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”
Although she smiles back, Klara feels a sense of loss fill her. Her confusion making her hold tighten on Nik’s jacket.
“You can have the bed,” he announces, smiling crookedly at her. “The couch ain’t good to wake up on if you have a hangover.”
Klara opens her mouth to argue, but the thought of sleeping in an actual bed, with a mattress and pillows soon takes its hold, stilling her tongue. “You sure?” She asks.
Raising an eyebrow, Nik chuckles as he guides her into the bedroom, squeezing her waist once more. “What kinda gentleman would I be if I let you sleep on the couch…again.”
Klara merely snorts, allowing herself to be led through the apartment as her mind focuses on thoughts of sheets and covers and sweet, sweet sleep. When they get to the bedroom, Klara detaches herself from Nik to throw herself onto the bed, snuggling into the pillow and groaning in delight.
“Dammit, Klara. At least take your boots off!”
Klara hears Nik’s scolding, but it sounds too far away to bother with, so she turns her face further into the pillow, hoping to block him out completely. Her breathing soon evens out, and she can feel herself tottering on the edge of sleep. When she feels the bed dipping, she thinks it’s the effects of the alcohol, making the room feel spinny and out of place. But dizziness doesn’t usually take the boots off her feet, handling her legs with care and placing them back on the bed. It doesn’t normally brush the hair tenderly from her face and cover her with a spare blanket before placing a warm kiss on her forehead.
The stubble scratching lightly against her skin and the lingering smell of alcohol and Nikness gives the game away. Leaving a happy smile on Klara’s face as Nik leaves the room.