Skewered

Author's note: New Klaroline story! It will be brief – maybe three or four chapters. Enjoy! Klaroline AU human story in which Caroline is a frequent competitor on a reality cooking show and a clip of her enthusiastic fangirl moment goes viral, catching the attention of her mega-celebrity crush, Klaus. Imagine her surprise when she finds out the highest-paid actor in Hollywood is a secret fan of the cooking show...

"Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart."
― Erma Bombeck

Chapter 1: Appetizers

Pork fat is the new black. At least, that's what Caroline Forbes tried to tell herself as she hastily attempted to wipe off the greasy splatters on her cheeks while standing on the raised platform in front of the panel of judges. She had been cooking in state and regional barbecue competitions for a while now, traveling throughout the Midwest and the South, and had become a familiar face on the reality television show Grill Masters Throwdown.

Shot documentary-style, a camera crew would follow around various contestants, sometimes conducting interviews despite the fact that the contestants were in the middle of an intense competition and couldn't really spare the time for a quick chat. Caroline would plaster on her best customer service smile and indulge them because she needed all the free advertising she could get for her business back home in Virginia.

She had been especially on edge during this competition because it was a regional championship with a $20,000 grand prize. That kind of money would be a game-changer for her, and she could finally make plans to expand her business like she'd always dreamed of. This competition had been fairly standard, with the competitors being judged on pork ribs, brisket, chicken, and meat and vegetable skewers. The food submissions always were graded on appearance, taste and tenderness, and Caroline knew that a balance of flavors was key — if any one flavor dominated the meat, it was all over.

Her signature flavors were heavily influenced by central Virginia-style barbecue with homemade sauces that were heavily sweet with a tart undertone. She let the cameras see her add typical spices like powdered gingerroot for bite and cayenne and smoked Hungarian paprika for a rich, earthy-spicy infusion, but she always sweetly told them to turn away when she brought out her secret weapon that had been a part of the Forbes family barbecue tradition since her great-grandparents: root beer. Spiking her sauces and marinades with root beer added an explosion of flavors that permeated the meat without extended marinating times, which was crucial in high-stakes cooking events like Grill Masters Throwdown.

With narrowed eyes, she watched as Alaric Saltzman, one of the judges and a fixture in professional cooking circles, carefully examine her entry. It was stored in a simple plastic container with a number that had been assigned to assure contestant anonymity until the winners were announced. She smiled a secret smile when she noticed how her homemade dry rub had permeated the brisket and built up a beautiful, flavorful "bark" along the edges. She knew that Alaric would appreciate that detail as he boasted similar results at his wildly successful barbecue franchise, Hungry Hunters. A look of surprise flashed across his sun-weathered face as he realized the brisket slices were so tender he didn't need a knife to cut into them. All that extra time she took to properly trim her brisket had been worth it. Caroline barely refrained from doing her wiggly little happy dance.

Once the judges finished tallying all of the scores, it was time for Mason Lockwood to announce the winners. Caroline managed to refrain from rolling her eyes when he started speaking — he was a pretty boy-type who tried to sell a fake Southern boy charm to every attractive girl he came across. While he was lovely to look at, she was looking for substance behind the sex appeal. Besides, her fantasy life was booked — her celebrity crush had been renowned movie actor Klaus Mikaelson since she was in high school and that wasn't about to change any time soon.

As Mason quickly announced third place and the runner-up, her shoulders drooped a bit. She always managed to place in the top ten, but had never gotten higher than fifth place before. She wondered if Mason had unfairly influenced the judges against her. She recalled at several competitions how he had orchestrated a 'chance' meeting with her to gauge her interest in learning his 'special barbecue tips'. She'd laughed in his face and told him that the day she needed a microwave bachelor from Pennsylvania dispensing his cooking wisdom was the day she started grilling tofu. She'd never learned how to control that famous Forbes temper of hers, and while she had zero interest in indulging in 'special barbecue tips' with Mason, she probably should have at least smiled at the beautiful bastard while rejecting him.

Her melancholic thoughts were interrupted when Mason loudly announced, "And the winner of the 10th Annual Tri-State Championship is Caroline Forbes of Seriously Good BBQ!" Blinking in shock, she was on autopilot as she walked to the judges' panel and collected her comically oversized check and the show's signature golden pig trophy. Mason winked at her as he pointed the microphone in her direction.

Holding the shiny pig trophy over her head, she couldn't help but do her wiggly little happy dance as she blissfully forgot the cameras were rolling. She squealed with excitement and shouted, "All that's left now on my life goals list is a kiss from Klaus Mikaelson!" She blushed furiously the second she realized she said that out loud, but the crowd and the judges seemed to be laughing with her rather than at her, so she allowed herself to relax. It was a silly, meaningless moment that would be forgotten by the time she got back to Virginia.

And then the clip went viral.

It was the most ridiculous thing that have ever happened in her life. She was a meme now, for fuck's sake! It was like that Tom Cruise-couch-jumping fiasco, but her hair looked fantastic and America seemed to agree that her on-screen celebrity crush confession and wiggly little happy dance were cute, so she just rolled her eyes good-naturedly at the attention and laughed. It would blow over eventually; these things always did.

On the plus side, her silly on-screen antics had been great for business. She sold her barbecue out of a tiny little shack with a walk-up window in a gas station parking lot in her small town of Mystic Falls, Virginia, and she couldn't ever recall a time when the line of customers had weaved around the block like it did now on a regular basis. After collecting her prize money, she had started scouting storefronts, but nothing had caught her eye yet. With the sudden increase in sales, she had hired extra staff, elated that finally her plans were falling into place.

Another unexpected result of her wayward reality TV show clip going viral had been the phone calls. A lot of them had been stupid prank calls, like the multiple times an accented voice had tried to contact her, claiming to be Klaus. It was complete nonsense and the caller was obviously Enzo St. John, a recent British transplant who was a fierce competitor and had struck up a rivalry with Caroline early on. Each time he called, she got more and more angry until she finally told Enzo that he was a no-good son of a bitch who couldn't grill for shit and his pork butt always looked like Jack Nicholson's shriveled balls.

Some of her more positive calls had been requests for interviews from local and regional media outlets, which she gladly gave to help promote Seriously Good BBQ. Then, an even bigger opportunity came her way when Mason contacted her with the exciting news that Grill Masters Throwdown had been watching her publicity with interest and wanted her to do a few appearances as a guest judge. She could hardly believe her good fortune and was really looking forward to it. She snorted derisively when she received an elaborate bouquet of sunflowers with a card from Mason that read, "Looking forward to sharing those special barbecue tips." She resisted the urge to toss them out though — it wasn't the sunflowers' fault that shallow pretty-boy was so not her type. So, she had set them out on the window ledge of the food stand to brighten her customers' day.

She handed out an order of country-style ribs with a tangy pineapple-cayenne glaze, relieved to see there was only one more customer left in line. When he approached the window, he took off his baseball cap and dark sunglasses, running his fingers through dirty blonde curls as his steel gray eyes regarded her with obvious interest.

Holy shit.