Fic: Winter Winds

[csi_sanders1129]

Title: Winter Winds
Chapters: 1/1
Author:csi_sanders1129
Genre: Romance.
Ratings: K+
Word Count: 1495
Pairings/Characters: Klaus/Jesper Johannsen, Lydia
Synopsis: In which a ghostly visitor encourages Jesper to pay Klaus a visit.
Comments: First try at Klaus fic. Comments and kudos would be awesome. Enjoy! Happy Holidays!

Jesper wakes with a jolt to the awareness that someone else is in the room with him. At first he wonders what nonsense Mogens is up to now – their unending, bickering back and forth seems to have leveled off as of late, but perhaps the man had simply been biding his time for an especially well-executed sneak attack. However, the spectral figure hovering at the foot of his bed is very much not the grizzled ferryman. In response, he lets out a very unmanly squeak and scrambles back against the wall until he can go no further, but the female form of his nocturnal guest neither pursues nor flees. Instead, she sits gently down on the foot of his ramshackle bed in his equally ramshackle quarters above the ramshackle post office.

"Relax, dear one," she says, her voice as calming and melodic as the wind through Klaus' varied birdhouses. "I mean you no harm. In fact, I am here because I wish to offer you that which you have not dared to take for yourself."

He does not know to what she refers.

"So I entreat you, Jesper Johannsen, take his heart, take his home – both of which were built for me and now are freely offered to you. Take them. Fill them both with life and love and laughter and joy and as much happiness as you can bear for the rest of your days together. For he loves you as he loves me, wholly and completely. As you love him."

She's talking about Klaus, he knows now. This is his wife, this is his Lydia.

Her words are like magic, just as her presence here surely is. A gift. He does not deserve it. No one could possibly be worthy of what she offers him on Klaus' behalf.

She smiles at him, a warm quirk of her lips as she reaches out, a ghostly hand settles on his – he expects it to be cold, but it is so very warm, the warmest thing he's felt since he's been in Smeerensberg aside from the sweeping force of Klaus' all-encompassing embrace. "One day, my dear, he will pass. One day, you will, too. But the thing you've created here, together, is magical and it will live on forevermore – and in way so will the two of you. He should not be alone. He does not have to be. And nor do you. I will be waiting for you both, for anyone that Klaus loves so fully is someone I would love, as well."

He doesn't know what to say.

She does. "Go to him."

So, he goes.

He clambers out of bed and out of the post office and he goes.

Jesper has not made a midnight visit to Klaus' remote cabin in some time, as the need for stealthy clandestine nighttime toy deliveries has fallen by the wayside since the advent of their yearly run. Still, daytime trips are frequent, and even in darkness the treacherous path up the mountain is sure and familiar, and he finds the wind is at his back, urging him on. He's beginning to suspect it is not just the wind that guides him.

When he arrives, he peeks through the window to find Klaus asleep in his chair in front of the last embers of the fire burning in the hearth. Maybe this isn't such a great idea, he considers, maybe he could just come back tomorrow and have this reality shattering conversation then, or next week, or never? Maybe never?

The wind has other ideas, preventing his escape attempt as it swirls gently around him before an insistent gust pushes him back toward the cabin.

"Okay, okay! Fine," Jesper relents, quietly knocking on the door. "You win."

It takes Klaus a moment to wake, another to get to the door, and it's clear he's surprised by this surprise visit as he stares down at Jesper, still half-asleep. "Jesper?"

But now what? Jesper doesn't actually have a reason to be here, does he? He doubts Klaus would appreciate a rambling explanation of the ghostly apparition of his late wife urging Jesper to come to him here. Instead, he opts for just plain rambling. He's good at rambling. "So," he starts, "I was just in the neighborhood and I thought, 'You know, hey, it's been a while since I've travelled up this very treacherous mountain of ours in the middle of the cold, frigid night, why not give it a try for old-' Oof!"

He finds himself abruptly cut off when yet another spontaneous gust of wind builds with enough force to push him forward, crashing headlong into Klaus, who's still leaned in the doorway and frowning down at Jesper in pure confusion.

Klaus catches him, of course, sets him back on his feet, one massive hand still lingering on his shoulder when he asks, clearly concerned, "What's going on?"

Okay, then, he'll just blurt it out. He swallows hard, "Um. I think your wife wants me here?"

Klaus' gaze settles for a brief few seconds somewhere over Jesper's shoulder (he has a feeling that ghostly wind may have picked up again). Then, surprisingly, he lets out of a small laugh. Not the booming 'ho ho ho,' laugh that Jesper loves to tease him about, but a softer, gentler sound, coupled with a fond smile. Jesper isn't sure if it's aimed at him or the ghost of his late wife. "I guess she finally got tired of waiting."

Jesper stares, "Pardon?"

"Since the first day you came here, she's been drawing us together," Klaus explains. "Pushing me to you. I'm pretty sure she locked you in that day, too, so I could find you."

Now, Jesper remembers the wind that had blown the heavy wooden door of the workshop closed, blocked it off so he couldn't escape from the intimidating axe-wielding woodsman without coming face to face with him first. "Oh."

"She convinced me to answer that first letter, to give you and your idea a chance."

"Really? Well, I'll have to thank her for that, then," Jesper decides. He certainly wouldn't still be here in Smeerensberg if she hadn't. Who knows where he'd be now if he hadn't found a home here. "She came to me," he says. "I saw her, talked to her – or, she talked to me, I guess? I was a little too busy panicking about the ghost in my room to manage many responses. But, she… she said you love me. Like you love her."

Klaus nods, doesn't question the absurdity of ghosts in the night, doesn't deny the knowledge provided. "I do," he says, like it's just that simple.

And maybe it is. "She said that I love you, too."

"Do you?"

Jesper thinks of his life before Smeerensberg. The silk sheets, the fine foods and wines, the lavish clothes, how much he'd avoided work and responsibility and any trace of ambition until he'd burned up every last second chance available to him. Even still, when given the chance to go back to that life, he'd turned it down, he'd stayed. And he'd give it all up a thousand times over for what he has here – his tiny little room above the post office (maybe with a few improvements), the community they've all built together, his friendship with Klaus, most of all. So, there's only one answer to the question: an easy, resounding, "Yes."

Klaus smiles, "Then maybe it's time we finally listen to her."

The wind builds to a crescendo, swirls swiftly around them both and settles into a soft and gentle breeze that simply circles them. Jesper would swear he could feel the happiness within it. He steps closer to Klaus of his own volition, the wind follows after him. "Yeah, I'd say so," he agrees.

Promptly, he's swept up into Klaus' strong arms, up off the ground until he's eye-level with the other man, close enough to kiss. But Klaus lets him make that move, lets him bridge the last of the distance that separates their friendship from something so much more.

Another easy decision.

The kiss is fantastic, and Jesper promptly melts into it. He's wrapped comfortably in Klaus' warmth and there's no place in the world he'd rather be. "I love you," he says, because no one deserves to hear those words more than the man before him.

Klaus holds on a little tighter, and echoes the sentiment without hesitation. He carries Jesper into the warmth of the cabin, and the two of them are too caught up in each other to notice the wind as it moves away. By the time the door closes, the wind has reached the treetops, whipping through the branches in triumph. The dozens of birdhouses Klaus has built over the years click and clack together in the strong breeze for a moment before the abrupt surge in the wind dies down, fades back into the calm silence of the cold winter night.