CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LAUGHTER, GUITARS, AND DANCING

"I'll thank my lucky stars for that night."

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     A few days later, Henrik found himself inside Hope's nursery, holding the little girl close in an attempt to calm yet another one of her fits. She had been restless and upset ever since Jackson had died. She wasn't sleeping well, and she couldn't be left alone for more than thirty minutes before she was wailing her little head off. It was like she was afraid more of her loved ones would disappear and never come back like Jackson did. His family had decided to take turns with her; whoever was free when she started crying would be the one to get her. Considering Klaus was passed out after spending the entire night with her, Freya and Elijah were running errands, and Hayley was calming down her pack, Henrik was the only option.

He didn't mind. He just hoped someone would be available later that day. If Hope needed him, he would cancel his plans in a heartbeat, but that didn't mean he particularly wanted to.

He shifted Hope in his arms when she let out another small cry, hands tightening around the collar of his shirt.

"My sweet, sweet girl," he murmured, going to sit in one of the rocking chairs. He didn't know when someone had placed a second one in the room, and he didn't really care. He just sat down in the one closest to the window and placed Hope on his lap, rocking back and forth. He flicked his fingers, hoping his spark trick would cheer her up. She didn't laugh, but she did calm down and stare with wide eyes. He sighed and curled an arm around her, keeping her close. "I hate seeing you so upset."

A small knock caught his attention. He looked up, seeing Hayley leaning against the doorway. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, clothes slightly wrinkled. She opened her mouth, then hesitated before closing it again. Eventually, her eyes settled on Hope, who was finally settling down, her eyelids drooping in exhaustion.

"She misses Jack," Hayley whispered, stepping further into the room with slow, careful steps. "She doesn't understand why he isn't here. I wish I could explain it to her." Henrik didn't respond, eyes now glued to Hope. Her cheek was pressed against his chest. Hayley took another step closer, then sank herself into the other rocking chair, letting out a small sigh in relief. Henrik still didn't look at her. His entire focus was on Hope, on making sure he didn't accidentally jostle her awake. Hayley was silent for a few minutes as they both watched her, and then she spoke. "Henrik, I—I'm really—" She stopped when Hope shifted. Thankfully, she didn't wake, and Henrik glanced up with a raised eyebrow.

"Really what, Hayley?" he whispered when she didn't continue. She blinked, then averted her gaze to Hope's crib.

"I'm sorry," she said with another sigh. "I shouldn't have lashed out at you. There's no excuse for it. None of it was your fault, I was just—" She stopped to her shake her head. "I shouldn't have said those things to you—"

"No," Henrik agreed calmly. "You shouldn't have." He no longer felt anger when he thought about it, but he didn't feel shame, either. His conversation with Francis hadn't just calmed him temporarily, it had stuck in his mind, had made a significant impact. "You know, I had a lot of things I wanted to say back to you?" he asked when Hayley didn't seem to know how to respond, how to continue. "A lot of very cruel things, crueler than you were being. It wouldn't have even been out of grief, like you, it just would have been out of anger. But I didn't say any of them because I knew you didn't mean any of it and that it would have been disrespectful to Jackson's memory. I controlled myself...but I haven't before." Ever since Hayley's outburst, he'd been thinking of all the times he had lashed back at people who lashed out at him first, of all the times he'd responded toward grieving or rightfully angry people with nothing but defensive anger and violence.

That wasn't the type of behavior he wanted Hope to see, wasn't the type of behavior he wanted her to mimic. She would be better. She had to be better. Maybe they were all monsters, but she didn't have to be. But that's exactly what she could turn into unless they did better first. He could be selfish with his siblings, he could be as angry and violent in front of his siblings as he wanted or needed, but Henrik couldn't be that person in front of her. Henrik hoped that Hope wouldn't inherit her family's violence and dysfunction. It was a false hope, perhaps, but a genuine one.

"What happened?" Hayley whispered, gaining Henrik's attention. He dragged his gaze away from Hope's face.

"Did either of my brothers, or Rebekah, ever tell you about my time in Mystic Falls?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "I know you were there. You came sometime after I left, made a deal with Klaus. That was how you ended up pregnant. Elijah told me. I assumed he told you all about my time there in an attempt to make you connect with me without meeting me, but..."

"He told me you were there," Hayley said with a nod, "but he didn't tell me specifics, and I didn't ask. I pissed off pretty much everyone in that town, so I prefer not to think about it." Henrik nodded.

"I almost accidentally killed my boyfriend's brother in front of my boyfriend," he said bluntly. Hayley blinked, then her eyes widened and her mouth parted in astonishment. Henrik couldn't help but smile, laughter bubbling up his throat. "I almost tore his heart out without even noticing, just because I was too upset to control my magic. Not my finest moment. One of the many things I did to contribute to my deteriorating relationship, if I'm being honest." He frowned then. He wondered if Ethan would have even looked at him twice if he'd acted as powerful as he actually was, like he did in New Orleans, but quickly dismissed the thought. He didn't want to think about it. Besides, he already knew the answer.

"Wait a second," Hayley said, sounding bewildered. "You're the warlock who almost killed Tyler? He was on the run, so I just thought he ran into and mouthed off to the wrong person." She shook her head in mild disbelief. "It's kind of insane how we're all connected in some way. Especially since me betraying Tyler was the reason I made a deal with Klaus in the first place."

"That's right. You betrayed the wolves, too," Henrik murmured, glancing at her and taking her in thoughtfully. She was frowning. It was clearly something she didn't like remembering, something she liked to pretend didn't happen. Henrik flashed her a grin. "You're part of the family, sweetheart. Betrayal runs in our blood. It's practically a rite of passage at this point, and you've clearly passed with flying colors. Congratulations." Hayley scowled at that, then let out a small sigh.

"Have you ever betrayed them?" Hayley asked. "Your family?"

"I'm sure my family thinks so," Henrik said, and that was that. Hayley changed the subject back to what it was originally.

"Again, I'm sorry," she said. "I should have apologized earlier, but I was—I didn't know how to approach you, and that's such a shitty excuse—" Henrik heaved a loud sigh, cutting her off.

"Hayley. I forgive you. You're forgiven. I was over it an hour later. Stop." Henrik frowned. "And don't say shitty in front of the baby."

"You just did."

"That's different," Henrik argued. "I'm her favorite uncle. The fun one. This is expected of me." Hayley shook her head, this time wearing a small smile.

"I didn't expect you to forgive me," she admitted. "From what all I've heard, you never seemed like the forgiving type." Henrik shrugged.

"Maybe I'm just in a better mood."

"Happier mood, you mean," Hayley said, still smiling. "Even I noticed, despite everything. And I know we're not close, but...I'm happy for you. If that means anything." To Henrik's surprise, it did mean something. He couldn't remember a time when his siblings were actually happy for him when he found someone. If they had been, then never voiced it. The most Klaus had ever shown was tolerance, Elijah had only ever been approving or disapproving, Finn had been in a coffin the entire time, Kol had always been nosy—which was his own sort of affection, he supposed—and Rebekah was usually jealous and petty where Henrik's romantic life was concerned. She didn't like when men or women grabbed her brothers' attention. They had all been tolerant at some points, even approving, but Henrik couldn't remember a time where one of them had actually told him that they were happy about his happiness. Perhaps they had been, at one point. Perhaps they were happy for him and couldn't express themselves, but it would have been nice to hear it. All he could remember now was Finn's absence—though that was hardly his fault—Kol's prying, Elijah's distant approval or disapproval, Klaus's overbearing protectiveness, and Rebekah's petty jealousy over someone taking her baby brother away from her.

Freya was the only one he could actually tell was happy for him. Her and Hayley. He remembered the smile she had given him after listening to Francis confront Elijah. It bothered Henrik, now that he realized it. It should have been all of them.

It was then that Hope jerked awake. As if sensing his darkening mood, she let out a loud wail that hurt Henrik's eardrums. He immediately winced and tried to calm her, but she only wailed louder, so Henrik handed her off to Hayley, who cooed and rocked for ten minutes before Hope finally went quiet. Henrik leaned down to rest his elbows on his knees, rubbing at his temples.

"I wish Francis was here," he said, more to himself than to Hayley. "He calmed her down in seconds yesterday." Henrik had actually rarely seen Francis in the past few days, and he only popped up the previous day to schedule their plans for that night.

"He never struck me as someone who was good with children," Hayley admitted. Henrik shrugged.

"He's full of surprises," was all he said. He leaned back into the rocking chair, then realized Hope was reaching for him again, tears welling up in her eyes. Henrik immediately reached for her and let her cling to his neck, holding her against his chest. He shushed her softly. "There's no need for tears, sweet girl. Your step-father is in a better place now. I've been where he is, and it's happy and bright and peaceful. He wouldn't want you to cry."

Hope calmed again, quicker than before. Hayley was staring in amazement, speechless.

"How..."

"I think it's my magic," Henrik admitted in a whisper. "She can sense it, sense that I'm like her. She's calm around Freya, too. She's going to be more witch than wolf." He was smiling by the end. He couldn't help it. He pressed a kiss to Hope's head, then settled her back in his lap.

"You really love kids, don't you?" she asked. He smiled at her.

"Is it obvious?"

"Have you had any?" she asked, surprising him enough that his smile slipped. "Even by accident?" Henrik's smile dimmed even further until it was completely gone. He pressed his lips together.

"I can't have children," he said. Hayley immediately looked apologetic, but Henrik shook his head. "I tried a few times, but...turns out I'm as barren as the rest of them. Except for Nik, it seems." He clenched his jaw, then shook his head again. "Honestly, after Dahlia, I'm almost glad for it. I'd never wish Freya's fate on anyone." It made him feel better, at least. Thinking that it was for the better. That he would never get the chance to unintentionally put his own child in danger just because they had Mikaelson blood.

"You've been very...calm lately," Hayley observed, changing the subject and not pushing further. Henrik appreciated that.

"I'm holding a baby," he reminded with a laugh. Hope gripped at his finger. "Besides, I did a huge spell a few days ago. Magic always calms me, and using that much power means I let some of it out. Sometimes it builds until I can't hold anything in anymore."

"Because Francis has nothing to do with it," Hayley agreed, tone sarcastic. Henrik shot her a look. She grinned. "Speaking of which, where has he been? After Christmas, I thought you two would be inseparable."

"He's been straightening things out with Aya, since he can't actually leave the Strix, not without people coming for his head," Henrik explained. "He's lucky he name-dropped me. If it wasn't for the fact that I absolutely terrify her, Aya probably would have killed him. I wonder if she even could." Henrik didn't know if the protection spell applied to Francis as well. Technically, it should have, but magic and balance had always been unpredictable, and Henrik still didn't know if he had upset the balance or not. Maybe the price for his family's protection was that Francis wasn't protected at all, since his blood was used. It made Henrik feel nervous. Seeing Hayley's questioning look, Henrik rolled his eyes and said, "Don't ask. Can't tell you."

"Couple secrets already," Hayley observed. "Not at all suspicious." Henrik rolled his eyes again, then glanced at the clock hanging on the wall.

"I'm meeting him at two," he said, "so I won't be here to calm her down. Does she have a favorite toy or something?" Hayley nodded and took Hope from him as he got to his feet. She flashed him a smile.

"Have fun," she teased. Henrik wrinkled his nose.

"Very mature," he said, surprised when a laugh came out of his mouth.

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Henrik shouldn't have been so surprised to see a music festival in full swing on practically every single significant road in the Quarter. He was supposed to meet Francis at a street corner, but he wasn't looking for him now. His eyes were glued to a guitar player near him, a smile playing at his mouth. He'd almost forgotten how full of life his home was. He was still smiling when he sensed Francis and turned around. Francis looked a bit disappointed when he did.

"One of these days I'm going to sneak up on you," he promised, making Henrik scoff.

"Good luck with that." He turned to look at the festival raging around them again. "A festival? To be honest, I pictured you as a moonlit dinner in the park kind of guy." Francis gave a soft sound—it might have been a laugh, though Henrik couldn't be sure over the music—and put a hand against the middle of his back.

"I can be that guy later, if you'd like," Francis said, smile evident in his voice. He didn't say anything else for a moment, so Henrik turned his head to take him in. Francis's eyes had wandered to the guitar player and stayed there. It was a good few moments before Francis finally seemed to realize Henrik was looking at him. When he did, the smile he gave was soft and contagious. Henrik remembered thinking that his smile could make everything feel light. He got a similar feeling now. "It's not just any festival," Francis said, seemingly unaware of how utterly gone Henrik was in that moment. "It's a music festival. Completely different." That got a laugh out of Henrik.

"Oh, is it?" he asked through his laughter. Francis hummed, so Henrik tilted his head and looked back out at the array of booths and musicians and dancers. Everyone seemed to be playing a different type of music, different genres and instruments, but none of it clashed. Part of Henrik wondered if magic had anything to do with it. Considering it was the Quarter, there probably was. Everything in that city had magic in it somewhere. He let out a soft sigh. "I haven't been to a music festival in years. Haven't enjoyed a French Quarter festival in even longer." He glanced at Francis, smiled, then held out his hand in invitation. "Show me how they're different, love."

Francis did, linking their fingers together and tugging him gently into a walk.

Henrik had been right in assuming there was magic involved. It seemed to be humming in the air, and it made everything else seem so much better. He didn't even know what he and Francis talked about as they walked, not specifically. They talked about everything and nothing, and the only things he took note of was how much of their time was spent smiling and laughing. The only times they got quiet was when they came across a musician that sounded especially beautiful. Henrik always watched Francis during those moments. He'd noticed very quickly that he stopped at any guitar player they came across, took note of him voicing his disappointment that no one was playing a piano, despite them being outside.

Henrik had laughed so many times that he had lost count, and it was during one of those laughs that Francis stopped dead on the sidewalk and tugged him to the side to avoid getting in people's way.

"That's a lovely sound, you know," Francis commented. Henrik tore his gaze away from the people dancing in the middle of the street.

"What is?" Henrik asked.

"Your laugh, darling." Henrik raised his eyebrows in disbelief, and it just made Francis's smile grow wider. "I've never heard it this much in one day. In fact, I daresay it's the most I've heard you laugh since I met you." His hand came up then, his thumb sweeping against Henrik's cheek. "It's nice."

"Flattery," Henrik said slowly, "will get you nowhere." Even as he said it, he couldn't get himself to stop smiling. He knew Francis was technically right. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this much, had allowed himself to have this much fun. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this unburdened and free. It felt better than just nice.

"I don't know about that," Francis responded, pressing himself back against the brick building. Henrik settled in beside him, and they continued to watch the dancers. They weren't professional. They were people born in the city, and they were all dancing to something different. Henrik recognized some of Marcel's men in the fray. "I did get you to fall for me with my personality alone, and I wouldn't have been able to do that without flattery."

"Pretty sure you fell first, love," Henrik said, feeling smug when Francis paused to consider that. After a moment, Francis shrugged in admission, and Henrik laughed. "Seriously, out of all this beautiful music, you're focusing on my laugh? You can't blame me for thinking it's nothing but flattery."

"I can appreciate more than one beautiful thing at a time, darling," Francis argued. Henrik tilted his head back against the building and raised his eyebrows, prompting him to explain further. "Right now, I'm focusing on you and each time you laugh. That doesn't mean I'm not noticing the violin being played down the street." Henrik blinked in surprise, then turned his head to see if he could see the violinist. He couldn't. For the first time, Henrik wondered how all of this music sounded to Francis's enhanced hearing. Judging by his expression, all of it did nothing but relax him. He absolutely adored music. Was this how Henrik looked when it came to magic? If it was, Henrik now completely understood why Francis seemed so awed when Henrik cast the spell the other night. Francis wasn't amazed by the magic, Francis was amazed by him.

"Did you know vampires have to relearn how to play instruments after they turn?" Francis asked a few moments later, after he was done listening to the violin and Henrik had resisted the urge to kiss him senseless because he didn't want to interrupt the moment.

"Yes," Henrik said. "Elijah used to complain about it. Every few centuries, his hearing became more enhanced, so he had to relearn everything again." Henrik smiled then and shifted closer. "What do you play?" Francis seemed surprised by that. When he hesitated, Henrik frowned. "Oh. Is it private? Because you don't have to—"

"No," Francis said quickly, letting out a small laugh. "No, it's not that at all. No one has asked me that. I'm not...used to it." Henrik blinked, and then he grinned.

"Oh. You're shy." A soft laugh escaped him. "How cute." To Henrik's amusement, Francis seemed at a loss for words at that, and his neck seemed oddly red. Francis's hand came up to rub at the back of his neck, as if he could get the blush to go away before it reached his face. Henrik was tempted to tease him about it, but decided not to. Instead, he asked, "How many instruments?"

"Three," Francis said, dropping his hand.

"Three," Henrik echoed, tilting his head in thought. "If I can guess the three correctly, would you show them to me?" It was as subtle as a question like that could get, but Francis saw right through it immediately. He raised an eyebrow, and suddenly he was no longer the flustered one.

"Darling," Francis drawled, and the way he said it made heat immediately spread up Henrik's neck and down his spine. "I was planning on taking you home anyway." Henrik sucked in a sharp, startled breath. He had to quickly look away from him to regain his bearings, and Francis's laughter quickly followed, floating in the air around them. A moment later, Henrik was being pulled into him, and Francis's mouth was pressing against the hollow under his ear. Henrik let out a shaky breath. "If that's what you want, of course," Francis added before pulling away.

"Guitar," Henrik said as soon as he knew he could step away without his knees buckling beneath him. "You went to every single guitar player on the street." Francis raised an eyebrow, then smiled and nodded.

"One down," he said, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. "Two more to go. No pressure." Henrik rolled his eyes.

"Piano. You complained about no one playing one on the street, even though dragging their piano out into a vampire-infested city probably isn't the best idea."

"I'd do it."

"Of course you would." Henrik paused then. "You know, you just assumed I'd go home with you. Maybe I'll get the last one wrong on purpose just to torment you." Francis's nose crinkled then. Henrik never though he'd describe Francis as cute, but their date had proved him wrong. He'd been cute the entire evening. He considered Francis for a moment, then pushed off the wall and took his hand, tugging him toward the mass of moving bodies in the middle of the street. "Dance with me," he requested. The look of surprise on Francis's face made him smile. It occurred to him that he was probably the first person to surprise someone as good at spying as Francis was in a very long time. It made him smile wider.

"Dance with you?" Francis asked, though he didn't fight it when Henrik kept tugging. It was starting to get dark, and the only people left out on the streets were the people at the festival itself. Most of them were dragging their loved ones to dance as well.

"I know you know how," Henrik teased. "It's how we met, remember?" Francis's mouth curved up in a soft smile.

"What are we dancing to, darling? Which musician?" Francis clarified. Henrik raised an eyebrow.

"You pick. You're the one who can hear every option." Francis tilted his head and listened for a moment, and then he was bringing Henrik closer than before. Henrik smiled when they settled into a sort of swaying, the only dance they could do considering more and more people were crowding the streets. "Tell me something, love. When did you know?" Henrik didn't have to clarify what he was referring to. Considering what they were currently doing, it was pretty obvious. Francis thought for a moment, hand coming around to rest on Henrik's lower back. Henrik spoke while he considered. "For me, it was the day we got Rebekah back. Elijah got it out of me."

"Elijah? I didn't think he liked me very much. Should I be flattered?" Henrik let out a small laugh and nudged him.

"Answer the question," Henrik ordered.

"When did I know that I had feelings for you..." Francis murmured, tilting his head. Henrik leaned into him and waited. "When I gave you the Strix weapon," he decided, meeting Henrik's gaze then. Henrik suddenly remembered the sharp intake of breath Francis had taken when he'd said Henrik's name for the first time, remembered Francis squeezing his hand before disappearing. "It was the first time I said your name out loud. I noticed that later."

"Really? I noticed it right away."

"Did you?"

"It was hard not to, considering you called me nothing but darling since we met."

"And what do you like more, hm?" Francis hooked a finger under Henrik's chin and tilted his face up. "Darling or Henrik?" Henrik opened his mouth to impulsively blurt out that he liked both, but then thought better of it. Francis wasn't going to get something like that out of him so easily. Instead, he smiled and leaned up to press a kiss to his lips.

"Violin," he said when he pulled away. Francis tilted his head, looking puzzled. It made Henrik laugh. "The third instrument you play. It's a violin. You were listening to it from a street away. Now..." He curled his fingers around the collar of Francis's shirt and brought him in, dipping his head to nip at Francis's throat. He tilted his head, allowing Henrik more access to his neck. "Did you mean what you said about taking me home or was that just talk?"

"It's not too fast?" Francis asked, sounding surprised despite his earlier words. Henrik hummed and pulled away, leaving a mark on Francis's neck that went away too quickly, healing right before Henrik's eyes. "A few days ago, you said—"

"A few days ago," Henrik quickly interrupted, "was the first time we kissed, and we hadn't even had our first date yet. That's not the case now. So no, it's not too soon. Not anymore."

That was how they ended up stumbling through Francis's apartment, once again unable to stop kissing each other, hands once again fumbling. Neither cared all that much when they bumped into things throughout his apartment, and Henrik let Francis lead him until they reached the bedroom.

And when they fell back onto the bed, Henrik didn't tell him to stop.

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edited: 6.21.18