Chapter Text
Chicago had a heartbeat at night that felt entirely different from the daylight version of the city. In the late hours, when the sun had sunk behind the buildings and the air cooled off just enough to make the streets feel alive again, the entire place seemed to loosen its tie. People slipped between shadows with the confidence of those who believed the darkness gave them permission to behave differently.
Prohibition had only intensified that feeling.
For humans, the act of drinking has become something illegal and thrilling. For Klaus, it had simply become more interesting to watch.
He stood across the street from the narrow brick building before approaching it, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark coat as he observed the storefront. The place was disguised as a barber shop, though the faded pole turning beside the door looked as though it had not been freshly painted in years. A dim yellow light spilled from the window, illuminating only a row of chairs and a long mirror along the back wall.
None of that interested Klaus.
What interested him were the two men standing near the entrance pretending to converse as they smoked cigarettes.
They stood just close enough to the door to watch it without appearing obvious, their eyes drifting across the street every few seconds in practiced sweeps. Their posture was relaxed in the way people tried to behave when they were doing something illegal. The tension in their shoulders betrayed them if one bothered to look closely.
Klaus found the effort charming.
Humans had always liked pretending they were clever.
After another moment of observation, he crossed the street. One of the lookouts gave him a brief glance as he passed, but neither man stopped him. Whatever test they had been instructed to perform clearly did not involve interfering with well dressed men who walked with the confidence Klaus carried.
Inside, the barber shop was dingy. A single overhead lamp cast long shadows across the floor, where a barber lazily swept clippings into a small pile near the wall. Another man sat in one of the chairs flipping through a newspaper with the sort of bored expression that showed he had been doing the same motions for quite some time.
Klaus moved slowly through the room, letting his eyes drift across the details without appearing to search for anything specific. Beneath the floorboards he could already hear the faint hum of music, the brassy notes of a trumpet slipping through the wood muffled.
He approached the barber with a sly smile. “Evening.”
The man glanced up briefly, pushing a few stray clippings toward the pile with his broom. “Evening.”
Klaus rested one hand lightly against the counter. “I was told this might be the place to find a drink.”
The barber paused to study him properly. The look lasted only a second, but Klaus recognized the calculation behind it. The man was measuring him, trying to determine whether he was a customer or a problem. “Depends who told you.”
Klaus’ smile turned into a smirk as he stepped closer. The moment his eyes met the barber’s, the shift was immediate. Klaus’s voice dropped, lowering into something smooth and impossible to resist. “You’re going to answer my questions.”
The man’s posture slackened, the tension draining from his shoulders as the compulsion took hold. “Yes.”
Klaus spoke quietly, his tone conversational. “Is there vervain in the alcohol downstairs?”
“No.”
“Has anyone strange asked questions about this place?”
“No.”
Klaus tilted his head slightly before asking the one question that truly mattered. “And a tall old man. Severe temperament. Has he been seen anywhere in this city recently?”
The barber blinked slowly. “Not that I know of.”
Klaus studied his face, listening to the steady rhythm of the man’s heartbeat, searching for the smallest hint of deception. There was none.
Satisfied, Klaus nodded once. “You’ll forget we had this conversation,” he said gently. “And you’ll show me the entrance.”
The barber moved immediately, turning to open the narrow door behind the counter. A staircase descended beneath the building, lit by the warm glow of lamps below. The music that had been faint moments ago surged louder instantly, the lively tone spilling up the steps.
Klaus descended.
The speakeasy stretched wide beneath the building, far larger than the space above would have suggested. Smoke curled beneath the low ceiling, hanging thick in the air as lamps cast light across wooden floors. A band played near the back of the room, the trumpet player leaning dramatically into each note while the pianist’s hands danced across the keys.
The room itself thrummed with movement. Couples drifted across the dance floor in swaying circles while gamblers crowded around a card table in the far corner, their voices rising above the music in bursts of drunken excitement. Waitresses moved quickly between tables balancing trays of whiskey glasses as laughter rippled through the crowd.
Klaus paused near the bottom of the stairs for a moment, observing.
Places like this had always fascinated him.
He moved through the room, pausing only briefly at the bar to order whiskey. The bartender slid a glass toward him without question, already turning to fill another order before Klaus even lifted it.
The liquid burned warmly as it touched his tongue.
No vervain.
His eyes drifted across the room again as he drank, more out of habit than concern now that the necessary precautions had been satisfied.
It was when he noticed him.
Across the bar, two stools down, sat a man who moved just slightly differently than the rest of the room. His posture was relaxed, one elbow resting against the bar as he loosely held a glass between his fingers. The man rolled the whiskey glass slowly between his fingers, the liquid catching the light each time the glass tilted. He drank from it like anyone else in the room might with an occasional sip, the rim touching his mouth between stretches of quiet observation. There was nothing unnatural about it. Vampires had long since mastered the art of blending in, and drinking was hardly unusual.
What stood out instead was the way he watched the room.
He looked relaxed enough at first glance, one elbow resting against the bar while he took another slow sip of whiskey, but the stillness beneath that posture gave him away. His eyes moved with precision, tracking movement in the room without appearing obvious about it. Every shift on the dance floor, every body passing between tables, every careless moment unfolding around him seemed to land somewhere within his awareness.
Predatory.
Klaus leaned slightly against the bar as he continued watching him. His own reflection caught faintly in the mirror behind the shelves of liquor.
The man was handsome in a way that didn’t beg for attention but seemed to gather it anyway. There was something effortless about the way he carried himself. The line of his jaw was clean and well shaped, his mouth set in a relaxed curve that suggested he might smile if the mood struck him. Even while sitting still, he held a sort of aura that pulled the eye back again and again, the kind of face that lingered in one’s mind longer than expected.
But what truly held Klaus’s attention was the emptiness behind those eyes.
That was a disappointment.
He had always preferred conversation with vampires capable of feeling something. Emotion made things interesting.
Still, Klaus continued watching him. The stranger’s jaw tightened briefly, a small movement that suggested he had noticed something elsewhere in the room and was trying not to react to it. A moment later his eyes shifted, drifting across the bar until it landed directly on Klaus. Their eyes met through the haze of smoke and golden light, and neither of them looked away.
Klaus had never been the sort to break eye contact first…Apparently, neither was the man across the bar.
The stare stretched between them until the stranger lifted his glass in a small, wordless acknowledgment, as if to confirm that the moment had not gone unnoticed.
Klaus felt the corner of his mouth lift in amusement. He finished the last of his whiskey before setting the empty glass down and rose from his stool to cross the short distance between.
When he reached the other man, Klaus rested a casual hand against the bar and let his attention drift briefly toward the dance floor before speaking. “Most people here are trying very hard not to look suspicious,” Klaus said, fingers tapping on the bar to signal the bartender, “You’re doing the opposite.”
The man turned his head slowly. Up close, the emptiness in his eyes was unmistakable now. Green, sharp and focused. But none of the emotional flickers that typically lived behind them.
His lips curved slightly. “Maybe I want to look suspicious.”
Klaus chuckled under his breath, the sound low and amused as he studied the man beside him with a few slow nods. There was something undeniably entertaining about the answer. Most people, human or vampire, tended to circle around the truth when confronted so directly. They offered excuses, deflections, polite little lies meant to smooth over whatever had been noticed.
This one had simply leaned into it.
That alone made him interesting.
Without asking permission, Klaus slid onto the empty stool beside him just as the bartender wandered back down the counter. The wood creaked faintly under his weight as he settled in, one arm resting along the edge of the bar while his other hand lifted in a brief gesture to catch the man’s attention.
“Two Old Fashions,” Klaus said easily, glancing sideways toward the stranger as though the decision had already been made for him. “One for me… and one for my new friend.”
The bartender gave a short nod and turned to begin mixing the drinks.
Klaus leaned back slightly on the stool, allowing himself the space to observe the man properly now that they were sitting shoulder to shoulder rather than studying one another from across the room.
“What’s your name?” he asked, his tone casual.
The man lifted his glass again, taking another slow drink before answering. “Stefan.”
The name hung between them for a moment.
“Stefan,” Klaus repeated thoughtfully.
Stefan… Salvatore.
Something about it brushed faintly against Klaus’s memory like a half remembered conversation overheard in a crowded room long ago. A name mentioned in passing somewhere, sometime, attached to a story he couldn’t quite place. The sensation hovered just long enough to catch his attention before slipping away again.
He could not recall where he had heard it and for the moment, he decided it didn’t matter.
The bartender returned, setting the two Old Fashions down and Klaus slid one of the glasses toward Stefan before lifting his own.
“Niklaus Mikaelson,” he said.
Stefan’s brow lifted slightly as he repeated the name. “Niklaus.”
Klaus took a slow sip of the drink and watched him over the rim of the glass. The emptiness in Stefan’s eyes remained unmistakable. Klaus had seen it countless times before over the centuries with vampires who had simply chosen to shut the door on everything that made them feel. Humanity switched cleanly off.
Even without it, Stefan seemed to be enjoying himself.
There was a certain ease in the way Stefan leaned back against the stool now, the faint curve of his mouth returning whenever their eyes met. His stare lingered just a moment longer each time, curiosity evident even if emotion was not.
“So tell me, Stefan,” Klaus said after another drink, his voice only heard by him beneath the volume of music and laughter around them. “What exactly brings you here tonight, besides looking suspicious?”
Stefan’s mouth curved faintly at that. “I’m looking for a bite to eat.”
Klaus hummed softly in acknowledgment.
Of course he was.
He turned slightly on the stool then, letting his eyes drift across the room. The speakeasy had only grown more crowded as the night progressed. Everywhere Klaus looked there were heartbeats.
“The mistake most young vampires make,” Klaus said thoughtfully as he swirled the whiskey in his glass, “is believing the hunt needs to be complicated.”
Stefan arched a brow as he followed his stare toward the crowd. “And you have a better method?”
Klaus smiled faintly. “Oh, I have the best method.” He gestured lazily toward the packed room. “You see all these people? The trick isn’t choosing one. The trick is making them choose you.”
Stefan watched the crowd in silence as Klaus continued.
“You claim the room,” Klaus said. “Make them adore you. Buy them drinks. Tell them they’re fascinating, brilliant, beautiful. Humans are terribly susceptible to attention.” His eyes flicked back to Stefan. “Give it an hour and you’ll have women falling into your lap without needing to compel a single one.”
Stefan considered this, his lips pressing together slightly as he weighed the idea. “I’ve never had a problem with compulsion,” he said after a moment.
Klaus clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “Of course you haven’t,” he replied lightly. “But that’s dreadfully dull..” He leaned a little closer. “You’re doing it the boring way, my friend.”
Stefan tilted his head slightly. “And you do it the fun way?”
Klaus’s smile widened. “Precisely.”
He turned toward the bartender again, his eyes catching the man’s eyes for the briefest moment. Compulsion slid into place. “Tonight,” Klaus said clearly, “every drink in this establishment is on us. Announce it.”
Moments later the bartender climbed onto a small step behind the counter and clapped loudly for attention. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he called. “Drinks are on the house tonight! Courtesy of these two right here!”
Cheers erupted across the room, loud enough to nearly drown out the band. Glasses lifted into the air. People surged toward the bar in excitement, laughter spilling through the smoky air as strangers came up to them.
Men approached first, shaking their hands enthusiastically.
“Hell of a gesture!”
“Appreciate it, gentlemen!”
Women followed not long after, perfume and smoke surrounding them as several leaned over the bar to press quick kisses to their cheeks in gratitude. One woman draped herself casually across Stefan’s shoulder, giggling as she thanked him, while another slipped her arm through Klaus’ and told him he was her new favorite person in Chicago.
Klaus accepted the attention, raised his glass, smiled, offered charming responses where appropriate.
But through all of it…
His attention kept drifting back to Stefan.
Stefan seemed amused by the spectacle unfolding around them. He accepted the thanks, the flirtation, the closeness, though he remained more reserved than Klaus. The faint curve of his mouth lingered throughout the night, his eyes occasionally sliding toward Klaus as if to acknowledge that this had been a good idea after all.
Hours passed quickly in the haze of music and whiskey.
By the time the crowd had begun to thin, Stefan leaned back slightly in their booth and finished the last of his drink.
“I think I’d actually like that meal now,” he said.
Klaus followed his line of sight toward a pair of young women standing near the exit, both laughing softly as they gathered their coats.
“Those two?” Klaus asked.
Stefan nodded once.
“Roommates,” Klaus guessed.
Stefan gave a small shrug. “They will be.”
Klaus smirked faintly as he rose from the stool. “Well then,” he said, “let’s not keep dinner waiting.”