But it might be worth a shot, so long as he can regulate them. He knows that if he had a bottle of something sedative right now he'd likely toy with the idea of the high they bring on their own. But he's trapped between two difficult decisions: relapse or find a way to deal with the screaming in his head. He knows which will be easier and which one feels nigh impossible, but maybe he'll give it a try. He's not known what being clean and sober and clear feels like since he was a teenager.
But she's there before he can speak again, and her arms around him do something to dissolve the tension wringing his body tight, vice-like. Letting out a breath he leans into her, arms falling to hug her in return. There's something nice about knowing he's standing in Allison's kitchen instead of scrounging around New York. He has to remember that.
"Have I ever told you that you are an angel, Heaven-sent from the great glowy grand Poobah himself?" He draws her back at arm's length to look at her before he hugs her again, kissing her cheek. "I will happily smoke them in your honor in quick succession. A funeral pyre for all your bad habits, obliterated for the next six months. Alas."
He doesn't feel like himself, not really, but the frenetic energy, the smile, the grand gestures and verbosity are his easiest lean-tos.
She knows how it sounds, and the risk of offering him more pills, but it wouldn't be terrible, she thinks. She's already making a mental reminder to make some calls, at least have that option for him if he wants it.
When he leans against her, she rubs his back, holding him close. It's something she has gotten accustomed to doing lately; whenever he'd hit a rough patch and he let her lay down on the bed with her while the worst of the withdrawals happened, she'd find some way to comfort him. As if that way she could remind him that he wasn't alone.
The kiss makes a small laugh burst from her throat, and she shakes her head at him. "An angel that packs cigarettes, huh?" Now it's her turn to kiss his cheek, before she lets her arms drop so that she can take his hand to lead him out of the kitchen and towards the office that's a few feet away from the dining room. Once she reaches the desk, she opens the top drawer and moves a few scripts away so that she can uncover the pack of cigarettes that had barely been opened three months ago.
"For you. Consider it a 'welcome to California' present." She smirks as she says it, handing him the cigarettes before motioning to the sliding door that leads to the backyard. "Like I said, you can use pretty much any room in the house. But this is how I'd feed my nasty little habit, so if you want to hang out here or use it, or...whatever. You're welcome to. I doubt I'll be here too much in the next few months, this is usually where I practice my lines and I don't have much lined up at the moment."
Klaus follows behind her like a dutiful, lost puppy, taking small satisfaction in the fact that he's parading around her house in nothing but cheetah print underwear. He idly hopes that Patrick wakes up and catches them like this in the wee hours of the morning, but he knows that wouldn't blow over well.
He's pulled from his own mischief when she proffers the cigarettes and he takes up the package gratefully, bringing it to his nose to smell the bite of tobacco. "Ah, and Gabriel blew his horn," he muses, drawing one out almost immediately, weighing the lighter in his hand. She hardly has to gesture to the sliding doors before he's moving in that direction, like his body's already moving of his own accord.
"Best welcome present ever," he murmurs around the cigarette. "Can you be around a deadly smoker or should I wait?" Because he wants to be near her as much as he wants the cigarette. "You can recite me all the lines from your last movie. I didn't get in to see it before I did the whole Overdose Act. I really should have won an Oscar for that performance."
“As long as you don’t blow any smoke in my direction, we should be fine.”
It’s a relief, that he still wants her around, so she doesn’t mind going out with him while he smokes. She follows him through the sliding doors, to the patio leading to the garden. Judging by the ashtray that’s on a side table, near some bushes, Klaus will be able to see that Allison really has been using this corner of the garden for cigarette breaks. Patrick never minded it - until the little line appeared on the pregnancy test - and there aren’t any neighbors close enough to worry about, so he’ll be able to take advantage of this spot whenever he needs it.
She leads him towards the pool, though, where the lounging chairs are. If they’re going to be out here, she’d like to be comfortable. If there’s one thing she loves about California, it’s the weather and how comfortable it is even in the middle of the night, so being out here at this hour doesn’t even phase her. The garden and the pool are illuminated softly, casting a comfortable and welcoming glow in the yard, and she smiles over at Klaus as she settles on the chaise.
“I think I like it out here better than the kitchen, anyway.”
"Shucks, that was my plan all along. Making pregnant women suffer is my prerogative in life."
Following behind her he chooses to sit at the edge of the pool instead of the outdoor furniture. He drops his feet into the water and lights up the cigarette. It's stale but the burn feels familiar in a way that draws out a pleasant groan. "God I needed this," he exhales in a cloud of smoke, pointedly opposite of where she sits. And he goes silent, enjoying the rush if nicotine, the sharp bite of the smoke, the draw on the filter. He moves his feet back and forth in the cold pool water, seeming for once to be at peace.
After he's demolished nearly half the cigarette he lets out a sigh, "I'm really going to give this the good old college try," he admits, shrugging a shoulder but not looking back at her. Instead he watches the way the water ripples around his calves.
"Not that I went to college but the sentiment's the same. Just less sorority and frat parties, the dreaded Freshman fifteen and god all the impossibly hot professors. I'll just ogle your husband instead." He looks back at her then, his expression warm. "You'll come home from a shoot and we'll have eloped into the sunset."
While Klaus smokes, Allison just looks up at the stars, just enjoying the quiet. There’s something about this silence between them, the comfort of just being. When they were younger, silence was comforting because it meant Reginald wasn’t around, but there was always that underlying expectation that he’d burst in at any moment, ready to ruin everything. For so many years Allison was sure she’d never be free from it, to the point that silence sometimes made her nerves feel frayed with anticipation.
That’s part of the reason why her house is up in a hill, away from traffic and without a lot of neighbors. The sound of the water is comforting. The fact that her brother is here, with her... It’s more than she could have ever let herself hope for.
By the time that Klaus speaks again, the nausea that had felt overwhelming when she had first woken up has subsided enough where she finally looks comfortable. Hell, she could probably stay here and watch the sunrise if she really wanted to. When Klaus speaks, though, her attention turns back to him and smiles, laughing when he says he and Patrick will end up eloping.
“Well, hey, as long as I get the house, have at it. I put too much work into it to let you two have it.” She tries to say it with a straight face, but the smile on her lips is hard to hide.
“I’m really proud of you, you know,” she adds, her voice warm. “What you’re doing isn’t easy, and you’re doing so good despite what you may think.”
"Save your pride, Number Three," he mocks their father, voice quivering and poorly accented. "Number Four has a long way to go yet! I believe he's still seeing tap dancing tigers and dehydrated elephants when he closes his eyes!"
He chuckles to himself, bringing the cigarette up to his lips for a final drag, letting the cherry burn all the way to the filter. He snubs the butt out on the concrete, holding his breath before he releases a long, slow exhale.
Pushing himself up out of the water, he pads over to her, holding out a hand to her. "You should go back to bed," he rests one fist on his hip, like he might admonish her. "It's long past your bed time, missy. And a Hollywood starlet needs her beauty rest. What will the tabloids thing if they see bags under your eyes?"
She rolls her eyes at the imitation of their father, shaking her head. Sadly, it probably is exactly what he would have said if he was here, but Allison stands with her word. She'll just continue to remind him until he believes it.
Taking his hand, she stands with a sigh. "Fine... We'll go get breakfast in a few hours. There's this little place down by the beach that I think you'll really like."
She kisses his cheek before hugging him, holding him tight for a moment before she steps back. "You staying out here?"
Klaus smiles, victorious, when she concedes and stands with him. Of all his siblings, he feels the most connected to Allison. Not only for the way she cares for him now, but how she's looked after him all of his life.
He leans into the hug, squeezing her tightly to his chest. He's no good at thank yous but the hug will have to suffice for now. He's sure he'll have to thank her for much more later.
"Nah. Maybe I'll actually try and sleep again." He feels tired, but he's always tired at this stage of the game. "Wait for my dreams to bring me my own fabulously gay version of Patrick to elope with." Pressing a kiss to her cheek he takes her hand and walks with her back toward the house.
God help them if Patrick ever overhead any of their conversations. Though, really, Klaus thinks, that could be hilarious good fun.
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no subject
But it might be worth a shot, so long as he can regulate them. He knows that if he had a bottle of something sedative right now he'd likely toy with the idea of the high they bring on their own. But he's trapped between two difficult decisions: relapse or find a way to deal with the screaming in his head. He knows which will be easier and which one feels nigh impossible, but maybe he'll give it a try. He's not known what being clean and sober and clear feels like since he was a teenager.
But she's there before he can speak again, and her arms around him do something to dissolve the tension wringing his body tight, vice-like. Letting out a breath he leans into her, arms falling to hug her in return. There's something nice about knowing he's standing in Allison's kitchen instead of scrounging around New York. He has to remember that.
"Have I ever told you that you are an angel, Heaven-sent from the great glowy grand Poobah himself?" He draws her back at arm's length to look at her before he hugs her again, kissing her cheek. "I will happily smoke them in your honor in quick succession. A funeral pyre for all your bad habits, obliterated for the next six months. Alas."
He doesn't feel like himself, not really, but the frenetic energy, the smile, the grand gestures and verbosity are his easiest lean-tos.
no subject
When he leans against her, she rubs his back, holding him close. It's something she has gotten accustomed to doing lately; whenever he'd hit a rough patch and he let her lay down on the bed with her while the worst of the withdrawals happened, she'd find some way to comfort him. As if that way she could remind him that he wasn't alone.
The kiss makes a small laugh burst from her throat, and she shakes her head at him. "An angel that packs cigarettes, huh?" Now it's her turn to kiss his cheek, before she lets her arms drop so that she can take his hand to lead him out of the kitchen and towards the office that's a few feet away from the dining room. Once she reaches the desk, she opens the top drawer and moves a few scripts away so that she can uncover the pack of cigarettes that had barely been opened three months ago.
"For you. Consider it a 'welcome to California' present." She smirks as she says it, handing him the cigarettes before motioning to the sliding door that leads to the backyard. "Like I said, you can use pretty much any room in the house. But this is how I'd feed my nasty little habit, so if you want to hang out here or use it, or...whatever. You're welcome to. I doubt I'll be here too much in the next few months, this is usually where I practice my lines and I don't have much lined up at the moment."
no subject
He's pulled from his own mischief when she proffers the cigarettes and he takes up the package gratefully, bringing it to his nose to smell the bite of tobacco. "Ah, and Gabriel blew his horn," he muses, drawing one out almost immediately, weighing the lighter in his hand. She hardly has to gesture to the sliding doors before he's moving in that direction, like his body's already moving of his own accord.
"Best welcome present ever," he murmurs around the cigarette. "Can you be around a deadly smoker or should I wait?" Because he wants to be near her as much as he wants the cigarette. "You can recite me all the lines from your last movie. I didn't get in to see it before I did the whole Overdose Act. I really should have won an Oscar for that performance."
no subject
It’s a relief, that he still wants her around, so she doesn’t mind going out with him while he smokes. She follows him through the sliding doors, to the patio leading to the garden. Judging by the ashtray that’s on a side table, near some bushes, Klaus will be able to see that Allison really has been using this corner of the garden for cigarette breaks. Patrick never minded it - until the little line appeared on the pregnancy test - and there aren’t any neighbors close enough to worry about, so he’ll be able to take advantage of this spot whenever he needs it.
She leads him towards the pool, though, where the lounging chairs are. If they’re going to be out here, she’d like to be comfortable. If there’s one thing she loves about California, it’s the weather and how comfortable it is even in the middle of the night, so being out here at this hour doesn’t even phase her. The garden and the pool are illuminated softly, casting a comfortable and welcoming glow in the yard, and she smiles over at Klaus as she settles on the chaise.
“I think I like it out here better than the kitchen, anyway.”
no subject
Following behind her he chooses to sit at the edge of the pool instead of the outdoor furniture. He drops his feet into the water and lights up the cigarette. It's stale but the burn feels familiar in a way that draws out a pleasant groan. "God I needed this," he exhales in a cloud of smoke, pointedly opposite of where she sits. And he goes silent, enjoying the rush if nicotine, the sharp bite of the smoke, the draw on the filter. He moves his feet back and forth in the cold pool water, seeming for once to be at peace.
After he's demolished nearly half the cigarette he lets out a sigh, "I'm really going to give this the good old college try," he admits, shrugging a shoulder but not looking back at her. Instead he watches the way the water ripples around his calves.
"Not that I went to college but the sentiment's the same. Just less sorority and frat parties, the dreaded Freshman fifteen and god all the impossibly hot professors. I'll just ogle your husband instead." He looks back at her then, his expression warm. "You'll come home from a shoot and we'll have eloped into the sunset."
no subject
That’s part of the reason why her house is up in a hill, away from traffic and without a lot of neighbors. The sound of the water is comforting. The fact that her brother is here, with her... It’s more than she could have ever let herself hope for.
By the time that Klaus speaks again, the nausea that had felt overwhelming when she had first woken up has subsided enough where she finally looks comfortable. Hell, she could probably stay here and watch the sunrise if she really wanted to. When Klaus speaks, though, her attention turns back to him and smiles, laughing when he says he and Patrick will end up eloping.
“Well, hey, as long as I get the house, have at it. I put too much work into it to let you two have it.” She tries to say it with a straight face, but the smile on her lips is hard to hide.
“I’m really proud of you, you know,” she adds, her voice warm. “What you’re doing isn’t easy, and you’re doing so good despite what you may think.”
no subject
He chuckles to himself, bringing the cigarette up to his lips for a final drag, letting the cherry burn all the way to the filter. He snubs the butt out on the concrete, holding his breath before he releases a long, slow exhale.
Pushing himself up out of the water, he pads over to her, holding out a hand to her. "You should go back to bed," he rests one fist on his hip, like he might admonish her. "It's long past your bed time, missy. And a Hollywood starlet needs her beauty rest. What will the tabloids thing if they see bags under your eyes?"
no subject
Taking his hand, she stands with a sigh. "Fine... We'll go get breakfast in a few hours. There's this little place down by the beach that I think you'll really like."
She kisses his cheek before hugging him, holding him tight for a moment before she steps back. "You staying out here?"
no subject
He leans into the hug, squeezing her tightly to his chest. He's no good at thank yous but the hug will have to suffice for now. He's sure he'll have to thank her for much more later.
"Nah. Maybe I'll actually try and sleep again." He feels tired, but he's always tired at this stage of the game. "Wait for my dreams to bring me my own fabulously gay version of Patrick to elope with." Pressing a kiss to her cheek he takes her hand and walks with her back toward the house.
God help them if Patrick ever overhead any of their conversations. Though, really, Klaus thinks, that could be hilarious good fun.