Title: The World on a Platter
Title: The Devil's Currency
Author: fadingtales
Fandom: Vampire Diaries
Ship: Klaus/Caroline
Summary: Rather than basking in the glory of the past the decade dance has her thinking of the future. An extended and slightly modified version of the Klaroline decade dance in 3x20.
She'd been happy. She'd been perfectly content. The evening couldn't have gone more flawlessly despite Rebekah's hijacking. Tyler was here and she loved him. And while he twirled her about, she could forget for a second about being a vampire, about the deaths that seemed to consistently loom over them every minute of every day, and all the problems that came with the supernatural, including one pesky evil Original Hybrid.
Of course, happiness can last only so long and she feels Tyler stiffening in her embrace. She lifts her face from his shoulder and she doesn't even have to look to know what is wrong.
"Hello, mate."
Tyler releases his hands on her and they both turn to face Klaus, looking like he's stepped right out of the Great Gatsby. His extravagant garb makes her feel like she's merely a child playing dress up. Her cheeks flame as his eyes quickly rake over her, feeling self-conscious about her plastic pearls and her hot pink Forever21 dress. They are nothing compared to the diamond bracelet he had given her, or the jewel encrusted dress that she has buried in the back of her closet.
And then her stubbornness kicks in. Who the hell is he to make her feel ashamed for such things? She had said it once before and she had meant it. She could not be bought. And he could not impress her if he had shown up to the dance with a white carriage and horse to match.
"Tyler, mate. Mind if I cut in?"
She glared at him. "Yes, we do mind actually."
And then she turned to look at Tyler, willing him to say the hell with all the duplicity over the sire bond. She wanted him to fight for her. Wanted him to tell Klaus to take a hike and that he loved her and no sire bond in the world was a match for that. You know, the usual things princes proclaim in fairytales.
"No. It's fine."
But instead he walks away. And even if she knew it was the smarter thing to do, she couldn't help feeling disappointed. The magic of the evening has already begun to fade.
Tyler disappears in the crowd and she crosses her arms, refusing to look at the Original Hybrid that had essentially just shooed away her boyfriend like it was no big deal.
"Why do you always have to prove you're the alpha male?"
He laughs at her. "I don't have to prove anything, love. I am the alpha male."
She scoffs in response. It doesn't faze him.
"Well? What do you want?"
"A conversation."
"You couldn't do it without acting like a grade A jackass?"
"Well, I've always been a bit of a perfectionist. I couldn't just settle for being a grade B jackass."
He smiles at her, but she merely shakes her head at him. Stupid Klaus and his stupid arrogance and his stupid dimples. Why the hell is he smiling at her? He is not allowed to smile at her.
They stand there that way for a long moment. Her glaring at him, him smiling at her. He was insufferable.
"Why aren't you like forcing me to dance with you or something?"
The corners of his lips tilt upwards a bit more then.
"Did you want me to ask you to dance?" His voice has a lilt of hopefulness, a tinge of boyish glee that takes her aback.
"No," she answers sharply.
He raises his eyebrow at her, a look of amusement on his face.
"Would you have danced if I asked you anyway?"
"No," she repeats.
He sighs. "Then I don't really see the point, Caroline."
She huffs. She realizes that she's being childish and making no sense whatsoever, but they're just standing there, in the middle of the dance floor while everyone else around them was having fun, and she's getting rather exhausted with this bitchy attitude she's keeping up for him.
Hating someone takes a lot of effort and truth be told, Caroline just didn't have the patience for prolonged hatred. Especially when he's just standing there, smiling at her with that ridiculously dimpled cheeks. The Big Bad wasn't supposed to be a dimpled, sandy-haired, British stud. It would've been easy to be repulsed by him if he looked like Freddy Krueger.
An overzealous couple, who probably partook in more than just the punch they were offering by the refreshment table, knocks into her, sending her tumbling. Usually her vampire reflexes would be enough to dodge it, but she had new heels on and so she topples a little. Of course, Klaus is there to catch her. His arms encircling her waist protectively.
"Whoa! Sorry about that," the boy murmurs in between laughs.
"Ugh, why are you apologizing? This a dance floor," the girl drawls. Caroline recognizes her as one of the bitchy girls from the field hockey team. "They're just standing there." The girl upturns her nose in disdain.
She feels Klaus's muscle tense then and has to quickly intervene before he ripped somebody's head off in the middle of the school gym.
"Come on," she tugs at his jacket collars. "Let's just dance."
And she safely steers him away from the drunken couple.
She's the one that initiates it, but he's the one that takes the lead. He's a good dancer, something she knows from experience, and if she let herself, she might actually even enjoy it. But he's too close and the scent of his cologne, something musky, dark, and distinctly Klaus, assails her senses and she has to struggle to keep her wits about her.
She makes the mistake of looking up and their eyes meet. His gaze is magnetic and it's like staring into the sea. There's a hint of gold in them that she recognizes as probably part of his werewolf trait. They are old eyes for a young face with a trace of sadness in them.
She feels a storm rising in her from looking into those eyes. He is constantly changing shape in her mind. One moment sweet and charming, and yet in a blink of an eye ruthless and callous. It would be easier to hate him if he had been the villain everyone made him out to be. But she can't reconcile the artist of that drawing she still keeps beside her night stand and the monster who has caused so much destruction and misery for so many of her friends. How can those hands, the ones that are gently cupping the small of her back and lacing through her own, be the same hands that have killed so many?
"I'm leaving town tomorrow," he whispers.
His sudden proclamation jars her out of her thoughts. A slight ache in her chest surprises her and she opens her mouth in an "O".
A small smile tugs at his lips.
"Can I take that as your surprise?" he asks. "Is it because you're going to miss me?"
She frowns at him, a scowl replacing her shocked expression. "As if."
His smile dies then.
"I'd ask you to come with me, but you and I both know you're not ready to accept my offer."
His offer, she thinks. His offer to show her art, music, genuine beauty. He's offering her the world on a silver platter.
"Perhaps one day," he muses. "In a year, or even in a century. You'll show up on my door and let me show you what the world has to offer."
Sweet promises from a gilded tongue. But to deny the enticement would be lying. Still, she is just an eighteen year old girl. She's not sure she wants to take on the world yet. Her world right now consists of school dances and midterms and cheerleading practice. Her world is Tyler and dates at the Grill. Normal things. Simple pleasures, but it was all she wanted.
She scoffs, brushing away the gossamer of his words.
She almost regrets it because suddenly there's hurt in his downcast eyes. Genuine hurt and it's the thing that shocks her the most. When he looks back up at her, his eyes are hard.
"You doubt my words?"
She shakes her head. "I doubt your sincerity."
He blinks at her then, as if this was a shock to him. "I've been honest with you. I fancy you, Caroline."
"Yes, but you're also a mass murderer who killed my friend's aunt, locked me up in a dungeon, sired my werewolf boyfriend, and then used your jedi mind tricks to get him to bite me," she says, rattling off all of his offenses on her fingers.
"I saved you from that werewolf bite."
"You did," she concedes, "but that doesn't mean you weren't the cause of it. That's like a firefighter starting a fire that he extinguishes himself."
"I didn't know you then."
"You think you know me now?" she retorts.
"I'd like to," he responds.
She has nothing to say to that. He's looking at her with those stupid puppy dog eyes again. She was always weak for broken things.
"Why are you like this?"
"Like what?"
"A contradiction. If you're going to be evil, then be evil. Don't be nice to me."
"Why does it matter? I'm nice to you because I like you. I am capable of being nice to the people I like, contrary to popular belief."
"Oh, like your family that you kept daggered in coffins for decades?"
"It's a different form of caring," he drawls.
She rolls her eyes.
"Well, don't waste your efforts on me."
"Why do you care if I decide to waste my efforts?"
"Because it makes it hard to hate you."
"You don't hate me?"
"I don't like you either," she snaps.
"But you don't hate me," he doesn't say it like a question.
The song ends then and she untangles herself from his embrace. Perfect timing. She didn't like where the conversation was heading.
"I am going back to Tyler now," she announces. "Goodbye, Klaus."
She turns to walk away, but his hand darts out and grabs her wrist. It's a firm touch, but oddly gentle at the same time.
"It's not going to be enough for you, you know."
She frowns at him.
"You don't realize it yet because you're still so young. But I've been alive for more years than you can count. You think everything right now is so important, so significant. It's not." He shakes his head for emphasis. "Small town boy, small town life. It won't be enough for you."
And then he releases her, having said his piece. She watches him threading through the crowd, getting swallowed up by the gyrating bodies moving in rhythm of the music. Somehow, her wrist still feels the heat of his touch.
She goes back to Tyler and she placates her boyfriend, smiles, whispers "I Love You's" to him throughout the night. But still, Klaus's words echo in her head.
Perhaps one day. In a year, or even in a century. You'll show up on my door and let me show you what the world has to offer.
A/N: Not everything I wanted to do with the rewrite, but my work tends to write itself and the dialogue just happened to flow this way. I tried to incorporate quite a bit of canon because I really did like the lines. What I thought the scene lacked (due to time constraints) was more emotion, more lingering looks, more turmoil and sexual tension. So hopefully this fic provided that missing piece. Hope you enjoyed it! Every like/comment/review is appreciated! =) And thank you to Paige (skerdypants) for reading and beta-ing all of my crap. I wouldn't be able to publish anything without you.