The airy laugh doesn't fool him, but Patrick just smiles and doesn't push. Like with Allison, he knows when to push and when to back off with Klaus as well, and for now he just smiles, easing back into their normal teasing even if the look in his eyes say that he's not backing down from what he said. Patrick may have been dragged into this whole situation with Klaus, had been forced to welcome him into this house that he and Allison had bought shortly after getting married, but as the years progressed things changed. Klaus is as much a member of his family as his own siblings, and he really is damn proud of everything he has accomplished.
"You're right, she'll probably defend you, anyway," he says with a sigh, since he often jokes that Claire likes Klaus better than she likes her own parents. "I don't know if my ego can take that tonight."
He gives his shoulders a squeeze again before letting go. There's a sympathetic look on his face as he explains what he's expecting once they go home, although he can't quite help how he frowns when he mentions that that the others would just see him as the druggie. He hopes that he's wrong, but based on what he has heard, he wouldn't be all that surprised and he hates that part.
He hates everything about this, actually.
At the mention of Luther, there's a slight shift in his features and Patrick has to catch himself before he slips and clarifies that point to him. Allison hadn't told him, exactly. Patrick still remembers how she was after that phone call, years ago, when Luther decided to call her and ask her what the hell she had been thinking in taking Klaus to California. Because, of course, someone from the press had found out the news and had tried to make a quick buck out of it. Her assistant and PR rep had managed to nix the story (or so he thinks), but Allison had been so upset after that argument with Luther that it had taken Patrick almost an hour to calm her down, and even then it had hardly worked.
Unable to stay put, he walks over to serve the coffee that is now done brewing. "I'll worry until you're both back here," he clarifies with a small smirk. "But, you're right. I'm glad you'll keep each other company, at least."
Going home means facing demons he's not quite ready to meet head on. Sure, coming to California meant removing himself from all temptation, meant a stable home and support, meant a real family instead of the shadow of one. And maybe he and Patrick had a rough go of it in the beginning, but there's something to be said about the tiny little life Klaus has made here.
He doesn't want to leave. More than anything in the whole world, he doesn't want to return to a place that has no ability to see every step he's taken to get to where he is now.
Leaning against the island, he rests his hands on the top, fidgeting with the tips of his fingers, unsure of what to do with all the nervous energy he usually pours into his words and his work. But the coffee gives him something to do and he follows behind Patrick to gather up a mug for himself. He drinks from it immediately, ignoring the way it burns a path straight to his stomach.
"I'll look after her, I promise," he says finally, sighing. "Not like the difficult shit that waits for us at home will be any worse than the first twenty years of my life, so I'm well armed for anything at this point." He snorts into his cup before he takes another long drink from it.
Something in his gut tells him this trip won't just be a simple trip home for a funeral, though. He's not sure why he thinks that or why, but he's felt these pulls before, where he wakes with the sinking dread of another sibling leaving long before they announce it, where he wakes knowing that the doors of the Academy might lock behind him for good for the last time. These are things he knows, and something about the future leaves the same, warning pool of dread resting deep in his belly.
"I don't think I ever said it before, but I'm glad you decided to let me live in your spare room like a decrepit stepchild for a while there. I know it was touch and go there for a while because, wow, was I a hot mess and a half, but. Well, earning your trust was one of the best things that could have come from that twenty-something disaster, so."
Klaus raises one shoulder in a half shrug, eyes focused on his coffee before he dares look up and across from him. The dread in his stomach swirls sickly, and for the first time since his arrival in this place he feels real fear; the sudden, swift punch of something that forms a lump in his throat and threatens to wreck the strange pocket of peace he's found here in their home.
"Frankly, I'd probably be dead by now if both of you hadn't let me stay. Well, maybe. I have a funny habit of giving death the good old slip, so maybe not, but you know what I mean." He laughs and turns his mug between his palms, soaking up the warmth into cold hands.
"I don't know. Guess I lost my train of thought, really, but I just thought you should know that. Thank you, I think are the words I was trying for but they feel so trite and cheesy, ugh."
“You don’t have to promise that, I know you will.” He glances over as he says it with a small smile. “I want you to take care of yourself, too. That’s also important.”
Patrick knows, after all, how important Allison is to Klaus. He remembers when she was put on bed rest while she was pregnant, and one time that she had gotten hurt on set when a stunt went wrong, how Klaus’s entire focus shifted to his sister to make sure she’d be okay. So, really, Patrick has no concerns when it comes to whether or not Klaus will look after Allison. He’s more worried he’ll forget about himself, especially with everything going on.
He’s about to take a sip of his coffee, when Klaus’s words stop him short and for a moment he doesn’t know what to say. He’s touched by them, but there’s something in his tone that makes him uneasy. He’s not sure if he’s looking too much into it, or if he’s more unsettled about this situation than he’s letting on, but it feels too much like a goodbye and he hates it.
“I’m really glad you came to live with us,” he answers after a moment, eyes on him whether or not Klaus wants to look. He wants him to know he means it. It’s not just him trying to appease him or he nice about it when it feels like they’re about to jump over a precipice with no way of knowing what’s below them. “And I’m very thankful for the fact that you decided to trust me, too. Things may have been hard in the beginning, but I can’t imagine our family anymore without you in it. I don’t want to. You’re a big part of it, and I really hope you know that.”
Both Allison and Patrick have been trying for years to show it by including him in family vacations, pictures, getting his input about improvements on the house, decisions about Claire... For all intents and purposes, Klaus has become like a third parent to Claire, and it’s something that Patrick hadn’t decided lightly. He trusts him. He loves him as if he was his own brother.
“You may have been a disaster in your twenties, but...if you weren’t so great I wouldn’t appreciate you and have you here in the way that you are. You’re my family, Klaus. I’m glad things worked out the way they did.”
It feels like a goodbye, but Klaus doesn't know if it should be. If he should let it settle between them like something that needs to be said before it's too late. He stares down into his coffee as he wrestles with the unease in his gut, with the nerves that rattle a few screws loose and make him feel a little bit more like the man from all those years ago.
"How could I not trust you, I mean look at that face," he gestures to Patrick, raising his eyes now to look the man in the face.
He's struck suddenly by how much he adores the man across from him, how much he adores the sweet little girl tucked into the bed down the hall, how much this life has restored the shattered, estranged pieces of his heart. He doesn't want to go. He knows for a fact that whatever waits for them back home will chew them up and spit them out, just like it always has. Nothing their father did ever came without a price.
"You and Claire and Allison are all I have," he says quietly, a fond smile on his face. "You're my family, and I'd very much like to keep it that way, thank you. I can't promise I won't make Claire into a miniature version of myself, but really I'd just be doing you both a favor."
It's easier to tease, to joke, to try and dismiss the welling pressure that points toward danger, that points toward something bad. "But we don't really say that stuff. You know, too busy being the good, old-fashioned men of the house," he swings an arm up in a flex, dropping his voice for dramatic effect. "Can't show those feelings around here. Sign'a weakness."
The energy rushes out of him on a sigh, however, and he brings the coffee cup to his lips, draining it. "So I just thought I should rip the band-aid off and say it."
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"You're right, she'll probably defend you, anyway," he says with a sigh, since he often jokes that Claire likes Klaus better than she likes her own parents. "I don't know if my ego can take that tonight."
He gives his shoulders a squeeze again before letting go. There's a sympathetic look on his face as he explains what he's expecting once they go home, although he can't quite help how he frowns when he mentions that that the others would just see him as the druggie. He hopes that he's wrong, but based on what he has heard, he wouldn't be all that surprised and he hates that part.
He hates everything about this, actually.
At the mention of Luther, there's a slight shift in his features and Patrick has to catch himself before he slips and clarifies that point to him. Allison hadn't told him, exactly. Patrick still remembers how she was after that phone call, years ago, when Luther decided to call her and ask her what the hell she had been thinking in taking Klaus to California. Because, of course, someone from the press had found out the news and had tried to make a quick buck out of it. Her assistant and PR rep had managed to nix the story (or so he thinks), but Allison had been so upset after that argument with Luther that it had taken Patrick almost an hour to calm her down, and even then it had hardly worked.
Unable to stay put, he walks over to serve the coffee that is now done brewing. "I'll worry until you're both back here," he clarifies with a small smirk. "But, you're right. I'm glad you'll keep each other company, at least."
no subject
He doesn't want to leave. More than anything in the whole world, he doesn't want to return to a place that has no ability to see every step he's taken to get to where he is now.
Leaning against the island, he rests his hands on the top, fidgeting with the tips of his fingers, unsure of what to do with all the nervous energy he usually pours into his words and his work. But the coffee gives him something to do and he follows behind Patrick to gather up a mug for himself. He drinks from it immediately, ignoring the way it burns a path straight to his stomach.
"I'll look after her, I promise," he says finally, sighing. "Not like the difficult shit that waits for us at home will be any worse than the first twenty years of my life, so I'm well armed for anything at this point." He snorts into his cup before he takes another long drink from it.
Something in his gut tells him this trip won't just be a simple trip home for a funeral, though. He's not sure why he thinks that or why, but he's felt these pulls before, where he wakes with the sinking dread of another sibling leaving long before they announce it, where he wakes knowing that the doors of the Academy might lock behind him for good for the last time. These are things he knows, and something about the future leaves the same, warning pool of dread resting deep in his belly.
"I don't think I ever said it before, but I'm glad you decided to let me live in your spare room like a decrepit stepchild for a while there. I know it was touch and go there for a while because, wow, was I a hot mess and a half, but. Well, earning your trust was one of the best things that could have come from that twenty-something disaster, so."
Klaus raises one shoulder in a half shrug, eyes focused on his coffee before he dares look up and across from him. The dread in his stomach swirls sickly, and for the first time since his arrival in this place he feels real fear; the sudden, swift punch of something that forms a lump in his throat and threatens to wreck the strange pocket of peace he's found here in their home.
"Frankly, I'd probably be dead by now if both of you hadn't let me stay. Well, maybe. I have a funny habit of giving death the good old slip, so maybe not, but you know what I mean." He laughs and turns his mug between his palms, soaking up the warmth into cold hands.
"I don't know. Guess I lost my train of thought, really, but I just thought you should know that. Thank you, I think are the words I was trying for but they feel so trite and cheesy, ugh."
no subject
Patrick knows, after all, how important Allison is to Klaus. He remembers when she was put on bed rest while she was pregnant, and one time that she had gotten hurt on set when a stunt went wrong, how Klaus’s entire focus shifted to his sister to make sure she’d be okay. So, really, Patrick has no concerns when it comes to whether or not Klaus will look after Allison. He’s more worried he’ll forget about himself, especially with everything going on.
He’s about to take a sip of his coffee, when Klaus’s words stop him short and for a moment he doesn’t know what to say. He’s touched by them, but there’s something in his tone that makes him uneasy. He’s not sure if he’s looking too much into it, or if he’s more unsettled about this situation than he’s letting on, but it feels too much like a goodbye and he hates it.
“I’m really glad you came to live with us,” he answers after a moment, eyes on him whether or not Klaus wants to look. He wants him to know he means it. It’s not just him trying to appease him or he nice about it when it feels like they’re about to jump over a precipice with no way of knowing what’s below them. “And I’m very thankful for the fact that you decided to trust me, too. Things may have been hard in the beginning, but I can’t imagine our family anymore without you in it. I don’t want to. You’re a big part of it, and I really hope you know that.”
Both Allison and Patrick have been trying for years to show it by including him in family vacations, pictures, getting his input about improvements on the house, decisions about Claire... For all intents and purposes, Klaus has become like a third parent to Claire, and it’s something that Patrick hadn’t decided lightly. He trusts him. He loves him as if he was his own brother.
“You may have been a disaster in your twenties, but...if you weren’t so great I wouldn’t appreciate you and have you here in the way that you are. You’re my family, Klaus. I’m glad things worked out the way they did.”
no subject
"How could I not trust you, I mean look at that face," he gestures to Patrick, raising his eyes now to look the man in the face.
He's struck suddenly by how much he adores the man across from him, how much he adores the sweet little girl tucked into the bed down the hall, how much this life has restored the shattered, estranged pieces of his heart. He doesn't want to go. He knows for a fact that whatever waits for them back home will chew them up and spit them out, just like it always has. Nothing their father did ever came without a price.
"You and Claire and Allison are all I have," he says quietly, a fond smile on his face. "You're my family, and I'd very much like to keep it that way, thank you. I can't promise I won't make Claire into a miniature version of myself, but really I'd just be doing you both a favor."
It's easier to tease, to joke, to try and dismiss the welling pressure that points toward danger, that points toward something bad. "But we don't really say that stuff. You know, too busy being the good, old-fashioned men of the house," he swings an arm up in a flex, dropping his voice for dramatic effect. "Can't show those feelings around here. Sign'a weakness."
The energy rushes out of him on a sigh, however, and he brings the coffee cup to his lips, draining it. "So I just thought I should rip the band-aid off and say it."