Klaus Wulfenbach (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
myblimpisbigger) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tvkworks2012-01-14 01:36 am
myblimpisbigger) wrote in tvkworks2012-01-14 01:36 am
Entry tags:
Crossing Lines
Title: Crossing Lines
Fandom: The Velvet Key
Character(s): Klaus Wulfenbach, Ingrid Barnes
Pairing(s): Klaus/Ingrid
Genre: ...Fluff? ...Romance? I don't even.
Rating: PG-13 for naked people?
Warnings: NUDITY. Also old people.
Summary: Ingrid asks an awful lot of invasive scar-related questions.
Notes: ONE DOWN ONE HUNDRED TO GO...
"This one?" Ingrid asks, just as she's been doing for the past ten minutes.
"A chemical spill during my younger and perhaps less careful days," Klaus says, watching as Ingrid idly traces the scarred patch of skin on his lower arm with two fingers.
It's natural that she'd want to know about his scars eventually. His body is a veritable gallery of them, most of which have far more sinister origins than a broken beaker in university chemistry class. It's still odd, though, laying in bed covered only by a sheet and explaining what feels like every single attempt on his life via the marks they've left on him.
"And this?" Her fingers move up his arm, to the thick, dark stitching near the shoulder, and then to the similar stitching that stretches across his chest. "You've got rather a lot of this."
"That." He takes a deep breath and then lets it out again. "I have had that since I was fifteen."
"Good lord, you were getting attempts on your life at fifteen? Don't tell me you were ruling the country then too." Her fingers still and she looks at him quizzically.
"Ah, no, this one wasn't in the least bit political. It... ah... I suppose you could say it was another accident due to a surfeit of stupidity and carelessness. It's almost funny, that with all the near-assassinations, I remain to this day the only person that has succeeded in killing Klaus Wulfenbach."
"Oh." She moves a bit closer (the springs of the Hotel bed squeak in mild protest), resting her head on his shoulder and once again beginning to trace his stitching with her fingers. For a long moment she's quiet, and then: "Of course you'd have to be the one to do what nobody else could even if it meant blowing yourself up, you stupid man. I don't know why I'm even surprised."
Klaus is shocked to find himself laughing.
Fandom: The Velvet Key
Character(s): Klaus Wulfenbach, Ingrid Barnes
Pairing(s): Klaus/Ingrid
Genre: ...Fluff? ...Romance? I don't even.
Rating: PG-13 for naked people?
Warnings: NUDITY. Also old people.
Summary: Ingrid asks an awful lot of invasive scar-related questions.
Notes: ONE DOWN ONE HUNDRED TO GO...
"This one?" Ingrid asks, just as she's been doing for the past ten minutes.
"A chemical spill during my younger and perhaps less careful days," Klaus says, watching as Ingrid idly traces the scarred patch of skin on his lower arm with two fingers.
It's natural that she'd want to know about his scars eventually. His body is a veritable gallery of them, most of which have far more sinister origins than a broken beaker in university chemistry class. It's still odd, though, laying in bed covered only by a sheet and explaining what feels like every single attempt on his life via the marks they've left on him.
"And this?" Her fingers move up his arm, to the thick, dark stitching near the shoulder, and then to the similar stitching that stretches across his chest. "You've got rather a lot of this."
"That." He takes a deep breath and then lets it out again. "I have had that since I was fifteen."
"Good lord, you were getting attempts on your life at fifteen? Don't tell me you were ruling the country then too." Her fingers still and she looks at him quizzically.
"Ah, no, this one wasn't in the least bit political. It... ah... I suppose you could say it was another accident due to a surfeit of stupidity and carelessness. It's almost funny, that with all the near-assassinations, I remain to this day the only person that has succeeded in killing Klaus Wulfenbach."
"Oh." She moves a bit closer (the springs of the Hotel bed squeak in mild protest), resting her head on his shoulder and once again beginning to trace his stitching with her fingers. For a long moment she's quiet, and then: "Of course you'd have to be the one to do what nobody else could even if it meant blowing yourself up, you stupid man. I don't know why I'm even surprised."
Klaus is shocked to find himself laughing.