Lucky Ones, a vampire diaries fanfic

A/N: Okay, confession time: I actually wrote this as a guilty pleasure because I'm quite a sucker for fluffy stories. Reading and/or writing angst can be a little draining emotionally, especially after a long week, so this became my little Klaroline haven. This is where Klaus holds his first art exhibition and the stories/inspirations behind his works. Italics are flashbacks, just so you know.

Enjoy!

xXx
CeruleanBlues

Lucky Ones

Even though it was a rare sunny day in the otherwise dreary streets of London, junior writer Stefan Salvatore wasn't going to bet his measly paycheck that it would stay that way—and there was absolutely no way in hell was he going through another insufferable bout of the cold again—so he hastily pulled over his trench coat, flicked its collar up, slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, and gave his editor a quick holler that he was leaving before trudging for the lift. It was slow—crawling like the fucking traffic during the Queen's Jubilee—and he glanced down impatiently at his wristwatch. When the door finally slid open at the first floor, he wasted no time hailing for a taxi. If his calculations were correct, the journey would take a good twenty minutes; just enough time for him to sort through his notes for the interview.

Two weeks ago, the paper had received an invitation to an official opening of an exhibition at one of the more prestigious art galleries downtown. Printed on expensive specially ordered metallic finish card stock, with the title of the collection tastefully embossed at the front in script, it exuded the elegance and promise of something more than another regular wannabe-artist trying to pass off sub-standard works as anything more than it actually was; utter crap. Perhaps it was this sort of bluntness and brutal honesty that had Atticus Shane sending him in. There wasn't a story to spin; just cold-hard facts about the artworks.

Damn, his life was a sad existence.

"Alright, here you go, mate," the driver announced as he came to a halt and studied the looming building. "Bit posh, don't you reckon? You sure this is the right address? The pub's just down the street."

Stefan suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "No, this is about right," he replied, fishing some notes out from his wallet. "I'm just here to do my job."

And then he was jumping out of the vehicle before the man could make any further judgmental comments, but when he stood staring at what looked more like a mansion than anything else, Stefan kind of understood what the driver meant. Dressed in a charcoal gray T-shirt, faded jeans and dirty white plimsolls, he definitely stuck out like a sore thumb. People walking past him were either leering or not-so-subtly eyeing his outfit in distaste; those filthy rich motherfuckers dressed to the nines in their tailored suits and fashionable designer dresses, and wondered if there was a fine print in the invite that he had failed to read. Nevertheless, he wasn't there to sip on imported champagne and flaunt his Cambridge degree, so with a long inhale, Stefan ascended the set of steps towards the entrance.

"Good evening, sir," the fairly young brunette greeted him at the reception table with a warm smile on her lips. "Your name please?"

Stefan visibly relaxed. "Oh, good, you're American," he chuckled. When she arched an amused eyebrow, he added, "all these accents are kind of making me homesick, you know?"

She nodded, her chestnut curls bouncing with the movement. "I know what you mean. I've been living here for three years and I still can't get used to ordering chips instead of fries."

"Oh, I'm Stefan," he said, extending a hand for her to shake. "Stefan Salvatore, and I'm with The Grimoire."

"Hang on for a sec." She began scanned through the guest list, running her index finger down the page, and when she found his name, gave a tick on the column next to it before retrieving a lanyard and handing it to him. "Here's your media pass. It's just so you don't get eaten up by those snobs with poles up their asses."

"Thanks."

"I'm Katherine, by the way," she told him. "And I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. My brother-in-law is very talented."

Oh, married. How the heck did he miss that massive diamond ring? Damn, was it carved out from the Koh-i-Noor?

He strode in and took a moment to admire the lavish interior and décor. It was certainly a class act; none of the over-the-top chiffon drapes or overcrowding floral arrangements. The color on the invite extended to the walls, with oblong stands strategically placed around the area for guests to interact as servers carried trays of wine and nibbles. Even so, the sheer opulence did little to distract Stefan from the main focus of the event.

The artworks.

The paintings themselves spanned from a range of sizes, the biggest of the collection standing at four feet in height and nearly seven feet in length. Used as a centerpiece for the entire exhibition, it was an oil painting of a captivating pair of eyes. A woman, most definitely; she was staring right at him. The artist's delicate strokes breathed life into the mystifying shades of blue and gray, and quite possibly violet too—a color so distinct, Stefan wondered if there was even a Pantone palette made just for it—fanned by long and dark lashes.

A chorus of carefree laughter snapped him out of his daze, and as he turned to the direction of where they came from, Stefan found his gaze landing on the man of the hour.

The artist himself, Niklaus Mikaelson.

Well, it was better to get the interview over and done with so that he could get cracking on the piece before his deadline; no use lingering any longer than he needed to be. There was a perfectly good bottle of wine and some leftover pizza calling out to him back in his flat, and no, that Game of Thrones marathon could not wait. And so, with the Khaleesi in mind, Stefan mustered up just enough courage to walk up to the man and his posse of female admirers.

"Hi, excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt," he spoke with a sheepish shrug, and then promptly hesitated for a beat when four pair of eyes zoomed in on his face. "Good evening, Mr. Mikaelson. I'm Stefan Salvatore from The Grimoire, and I'm hoping if I could steal a bit of your time for an interview for my paper?"

"Of course, Mr. Salvatore," Niklaus responded smoothly with a cordial smile, his dimples flashing. He turned to the groupie still drooling over his charms and gave a bow. "Excuse me, ladies."

He steered them towards a sitting area with leather couches and a glass coffee table. Flagging down a staff, he grabbed two flutes of champagne from the tray and offered one to the writer.

"Thank you for agreeing to talk to me, Mr. Mikaelson."

"Oh, just Klaus, please," the artist implored with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Mr. Mikaelson is my father. He's the stuffy old bastard over there by the corner."

Stefan craned his neck around, immediately noticing the deep scowl on said man's features. "He's not a fan of art, I take it?"

"He still thinks Picasso was a five-year-old kid with a mental capacity of a fly," Klaus retorted before taking a sip of his drink. "So you can understand his pains when he learned that I didn't want anything to do with his law firm."

Stefan offered an empathetic tight-lipped grin, fished out his prized Dictaphone from his bag and clicked to record their conversation. He had managed to consolidate all of his questions during the ride over, and had been properly listed in order of importance. For an added boost—and to wet his dry throat—he gulped down a mouthful of the alcohol, noting instantly that it was his brother, Damon's, favorite Chardonnay.

"So, Klaus," he began. "Could you give me a quick introduction about yourself and about this gallery? What made you want to be an artist?"

Klaus interlaced his fingers together, a nostalgic look crossing his roguish features. "It's one of those things that started when I was fairly young. My parents were adamant on sending my siblings and I to boarding school, which I suppose was a blessing. All things considered, I wasn't really interested in after-school activities, although I was quite the equestrian. My brothers, they were doing everything—football, rugby, polo—so they were pretty occupied most of the time, leaving me to my own devices. The school was set in a scenic region in the English countryside, and everyday, I found myself sketching or painting, hoping to capture as much of the beauty as I could before I headed back to the city. When I graduated, I knew it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, so I studied art in university, and then the rest is history."

Despite the fact that he was going to transcribe the whole interview, Stefan still made quick scribbles in his notebook. "Now, your exhibition is entitled 'The Light', and your works clearly depict a woman. Who is she and how did she come to be your muse?"

An interesting play of emotions crossed Klaus' handsome visage, one that Stefan took careful notice of as he wrote them down on the page. It started with something wistful, paired by the sparkle in his eyes that softened as he caught sight of one of his paintings, and all in all, he was the epitome of a man pretty much smitten or in love. A pang of envy hit Stefan in the chest, for he had yet to find the one person who could assuage the romantic side of him.

"Caroline. Her name is Caroline."

The syllables rolled off his tongue like a prayer, and for some unexplained reason, it sent a zing down Stefan's spine.

"She obviously means a lot to you."

"She means everything to me."

Stefan realized that the rest of his pre-prepared questions wouldn't suffice; he now had an angle to work with that might just bump his story up onto the front page. He spent a good thirty seconds studying all of the artworks one more time, stitching them together to form some sort of picture in his mind; something he could use.

"What was the first thing about her that caught your attention?"

The corner of Klaus' lips curled into a smile.

"Her eyes," he said. "There's something about those eyes; hypnotic."

She was Katherine's friend; the blonde who had just sauntered gracefully through the threshold, and because Klaus was all too familiar with his would-be sister-in-law's frigid temperaments, it came as a pleasant surprise when she squealed in delight and instantly swept the woman up in a bone-crushing hug. That in—and of—itself caught his interest.

The two women quickly immersed themselves in an animated conversation, though he had yet to see anything but the slender curves of her back. She wore a gold lace number that fitted her immaculately like a second skin, her spine framed by two pieces of sheer fabric with an open slit in the middle. The dress ended several inches above her knees, revealing a set of long and toned legs that went on for miles, perfectly accentuated by a pair of strappy heels.

Klaus was already making his way over when his brother, Elijah, decided to pop in on the reunion like the dutiful host that he was, and of course, what do you know, he seemed fairly acquainted with the blonde; going so far as to drop a chaste peck on her cheek. Honest to God, Klaus loved his older sibling dearly, but he was a right boring sod before Katherine swooped into his life with all her sass and blunt attitude, so how was it possible that Elijah knew one more woman in this room than he did?

To make matters a tad bit worse, Rebekah skipped over giddily and practically launched herself at the mysterious female. The scene was bizarre in ways he couldn't fathom. Perhaps he had drunk a bit more than he realized.

Kol came up on his right, two flutes of champagne in his hands without offering him one. "You're being creepy again, Nik," he remarked. When he recognized what—or whom—his brother was intensely staring at, a full-blown grin spread across his boyish features. Not one to miss out on an opportunity to rile Klaus up, he drawled, "She looks like a tasty little thing."

"Say another word and I'll tear out your liver."

"Such sadistic tendencies," Kol tutted as he shook his head. "I think I'm going to go say hi."

Bloody fucking hell.

No way was he allowing that to happen, especially not when Kol had a neck for bedding almost every woman who hadn't run off in the opposite direction at the first word uttered from his mouth.

"Caroline!"

She spun around, and like a scene out of a cliché romantic movie, it happened in slow motion. Her wispy golden hair swung in a halo, and it took everything in Klaus' being not to trip over his two feet and make a spectacle of himself. Her face lit up—a stunning vision that would forever be etched in his mind—and it took him three embarrassing seconds before he noticed that she was reaching out for his Casanova of a brother.

"Kol!" she gleefully exclaimed before enveloping him in a warm embrace; definitely not one given to a bedfellow.

Klaus narrowed his gaze, wondering what the fuck was going on, and why he was apparently the only Mikaelson in the house not to know of her. He needed answers, and he needed them now.

"So lovely to see you again, sweetheart," Kol purred, probably unable to help himself, and Klaus had to roll his eyes. "I hope London's treating you right."

"It could do with a bit more sunshine."

Were they seriously going to stand there and chat and completely ignore him?

That just wouldn't do, so he pointedly cleared his throat to catch her undivided attention.

It worked, because all of a sudden, he found himself falling victim under her mesmerizing gaze. The breath hitched in his throat; whatever witty line he had planned flew right out the window along with his sanity.

Those eyes.

He saw the ocean.

He saw the fucking lighthouse flashing in perpetual motion, beckoning him to take a leap and fly off the edge of the cliff.

He saw his life coming to a standstill; a tunnel vision where nothing else existed but the sky and the empty void in his heart.

He saw what it truly meant to be terrified.

"Caroline," Katherine jumped in to save the day. "I'd like you to meet Niklaus. Dearest brother-in-law-to-be of mine, if you'd so kindly pick your jaw off the ground; I'd like you to meet my very good friend, Caroline Forbes."

Vaguely, he registered Kol giving him an encouraging nudge, but he had yet to even blink.

"Hi," the blonde Goddess chirped. "It's nice to finally meet you, Klaus."

Her skin was baby smooth, like touching porcelain in his palm. "Please, it's Nik."

Just for her.

Only for her.

"I like your shirt," she commented, eyeing the print of The Clash on the front. Sue him, he wasn't Elijah, and he was told that this was supposed to be a semi-casual occasion. "Pretty vintage."

It was right at the very moment that Klaus reckoned he had just found his muse.

The man trailed off, lost in his reminiscing, and Stefan didn't know if he ought to breathe; afraid that he might shatter the moment with a single sound. Atticus had mentioned once or twice what an intense person Klaus was, but experiencing it first hand was a Lana Del Rey song all on its own, almost as if he was intruding on something intimate just by listening to him relive the moments.

"I watched her all night," he admitted abashedly, tracing the rim of the flute with his index finger. "My sister told me I was being creepy, but I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was surrounded by stuffy old farts and gold-digging chavs, and still, she was this redeeming beacon of light."

Stefan chuckled, if only to hide the fact that he was growing significantly enamored by the enchanting tale. Even so, he couldn't resist baiting Klaus for more details; the journalist in him itching for juicy gossip not unlike that of a women's magazine. "Did you stalk her around? Counted the minutes she took in the bathroom, or the number of drinks she had? Made sure the sleazy perverts kept their hands to themselves?"

If anything, Klaus handled the nosy attempts and informal queries with outmost finesse. His lopsided grin grew a tad mischievous, and yet giving nothing away. "Is that what you would've done, Mr. Salvatore?"

"Perhaps, if I ever get so lucky."

He was never known to be patient, but for her, he'd wait an eternity. Fortunately, he needn't have to, because as the evening dwindled to a quiet night and guests were slowly leaving, Klaus found himself drifting towards his favorite perch on the second-floor balcony. Lo and behold, he found that he wasn't alone.

Against the dark velvet sky and the luminescence of the silvery half-moon, she stood as regal as an ethereal being. In the dim of the light, she glowed brighter than anything else. She was sipping on a glass of scotch, and Klaus' suspicions were confirmed when he spotted the half-empty bottle of Dalmore on the coffee table. How she knew where his secret stash was would forever be a mystery that she would refuse to disclose, but it would be the one thing that Klaus found most alluring about her.

His footsteps were almost too loud in the tranquil serenity, and the slight tilt of her head was the only indication that she knew he was there, so he poured two fingers of the honeyed liquid for himself and joined her by the railing.

"I see you've infiltrated my whisky cabinet."

Let's get out of this town, baby we're on fire
Everyone around here seems to be going down, down, down

A slow smile crept into her features. "You're terribly predictable, Nik Mikaelson."

"Perhaps it was all part of my deliberate plan to lure you here and alone with me," he quipped back, the smooth bastard that he was.

Caroline turned to properly face him then, and once again he found himself drowning in her bright cerulean orbs. "You probably didn't have to try too hard."

Klaus tried to stifle the smugness in his smirk. "Now, why is it that I was the last to be introduced to such a lovely lady as yourself? Though, I understand the relation to Elijah, I can't help but be slightly offended that Kol had the pleasure of knowing you first."

"Oh, please," she scoffed. "Kol is a notorious flirt, but would you date that? No, he's sweet but apparently he was snooping around Bekah's phone and tagged along that one time we were out."

The relief was palpable from the way his shoulders visibly relaxed. "I was informed that you weren't expected to be here till next week."

"I requested for an earlier time off," she explained. "Katherine and I go way back in high school. We hated each other's guts, especially after she had that nasty sprain on her ankle and I had to replace her as cheer captain during Nationals, but something happened during senior year and we became the best of friends ever since, so there's absolutely no way I'm missing out on this engagement party."

"And you're a wedding planner."

"The same way you're an artist."

His eyebrows sprang up in surprise.

"I've seen your works," she answered his unspoken question. Gesturing towards the art piece hanging on the wall by the door, she added, "nice snowflake, by the way."

"Is my work really that literal?"

Caroline studied the painting for a little while longer. "I'm serious," she murmured. "There's something…lonely about it."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment." He took a bold step closer to her, keeping his stare firmly locked onto hers, wanting to memorize the different shades of color swimming in her eyes, but instead finding himself blurting out the words before he could stop them. "Have dinner with me, Caroline."

Her demeanor turned slightly more playful. "I've rejected Kol's offer more than once. What makes you think I'd accept yours?"

"Because you know you want me just as much as I want you," he husked out, narrowing their distance until he was hit with the heady scent of her perfume. The proximity was intoxicating, and if the harsh rise and fall of her chest was any indication, the feelings were definitely mutual.

If you stick with me, I can take you higher, and higher
It feels like all of our friends are lost
Nobody's found, found, found

"I'm not a one-time casual fling sort of girl, Nik."

"And I don't want you to be."

It wasn't clear whether she believed him or not, but Caroline inched in, her sweet breath hot against his stubbled cheek. "The Dorchester. Tomorrow; pick me up at seven."

Then, with a light brush of her luscious lips against the corner of his mouth, Caroline pulled away and strode out of the room.

Klaus stood frozen, gaping at the empty spot that she had just vacated, speechless for the first time in his entire life. No woman had driven him to such fatuous heights before, to render him incapable of coherent thought that had him questioning his basic intelligence. It was raising so many red flags in so many ways that had terrified him time and time again, and yet he didn't hesitate to push them all away, to fuck it all and brave the odds to have her.

Bloody hell.

Those eyes.

He spent every waking second, way into the wee hours of the morning trying to perfect every line, every crease, every freckle and every angle of her delicate features, hoping to immortalize her beauty on paper. The charcoal pencil flew across his sketchbook in swift strokes, giving meticulous attention to each strand of her hair, but no matter how hard he tried, he was never satisfied.

Klaus pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a tired sigh, surviving on willpower alone to keep his eyes wide open. There was an empty bottle of scotch and several opened bags of crisps, perhaps a stray bar of dark chocolate that he most definitely did not sneak out of Rebekah's bedside drawer, and he wondered why his stomach wasn't churning from all the rubbish he had consumed.

Before he knew it, dawn was breaking, and he'd drifted off with a drawing of her pressed close to his heart.

"What did you do, then?" Stefan blurted out with the same eager capacity of a toddler. Clearly, he was set to make a complete fool of himself that day, but in all fairness, he was receiving a first-hand account into Niklaus Mikaelson's intimate life. Screw the paper's article; he could publish a complete autobiography with the amount of content he had gathered. "I mean, surely you overcame that block, considering you now have a collection of paintings dedicated to her."

The rather placid artist hiked one ankle over his knee. "I did what every brother does."

"And that is…"

"I went to my sister for advice."

"Rebekah!"

His blonde little sister gave an irritated huff and averted her attention from the laptop screen to grace him with a bored look as he slumped down on the sofa in a non-committal manner. She arched a sculpted eyebrow. "What is it, Nik?"

"Caroline," was his only grumbled response.

Rebekah failed to conceal her mirth. "What about her?"

"I'm taking her to dinner tonight."

"Oh!" Scrambling to her feet, she bounded over to sit next to him, hitching a leg up so that her body was properly facing him, with the widest, most whimsical grin he'd ever seen. "Oh, my God, where are you taking her? Please tell me you're actually taking her out on a proper date, and not what you deem as 'a bit of dinner before bedtime', because I swear on our ancestors' graves if you do that to her, I will—"

"Why did I think it'll be a good idea to ask you about this?" he groaned.

"No, no, I'm your best option for this—"

"Perhaps I should ask Katherine, considering—"

The female Mikaelson smacked his bicep. "She's going to cut your balls off and feed them to the dogs if she finds out. For years she's avoided introducing Caroline to you."

"What?" he sputtered. "Why would she do that?"

"Because you're a fucking prick, what do you think?" Rebekah retorted. "You have a history of running for the hills at the first sign of commitment. Remember Camille and Hayley and every other clingy non-girlfriends that you had? I'm sure I can still find traces of their shattered hearts littering the floors of his house, so you can understand Kat's trepidation when she's hesitant to introduce you to her best friend."

"Like you've so conveniently mentioned, those ladies were clingy, and all I wanted to ask you was which car should I drive to pick her up later?"

The glare she shot his way was deadly. "The red Aston Martin, of course—that Lamborghini of yours is loud enough to be heard all the way in Asia—and if you hurt her, Nik, I don't think I have to repeat myself—"

"I won't, Bekah. I promise."

When Klaus arrived at ten to seven, she was already waiting for him at the lobby and chatting amicably with the doorman. He might've slammed on the breaks a little too hard, but then again, he always seemed to lose all aspects of control whenever she was near. The slight screech of the tires tore her out of the conversation as she took a gander at his polished ride and seemed rather impressed. Striving not to preen too much, Klaus got out of the vehicle to open the door for her.

"You look ravishing, love," he crooned after dropping a kiss to the back of her hand, and peered up at her through his lashes.

Caroline turned an adorable shade of pink. "Thank you, Nik," she returned coquettishly. "You don't look too bad yourself. Nice car, by the way. I'm glad Rebekah talked you out of that Lamborghini."

Was there anything that she didn't know?

"Oh, yeah," she winked, as though she had just read his mind. "Your family loves me."

It was then that Klaus reckoned that he probably did too.

"So, you're planning Elijah and Kat's wedding, then?"

Caroline took a sip of her red wine and nodded. "Seems like it, though it's going to be a challenge working from the States, and then going back and forth to get a lot of the details done, but I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem."

"It's funny how your only concern is the coordinating and not having to deal with Bridezilla," he chuckled.

"If you did what I've been doing for five years, you've probably seen them all," she told him mock seriously as she cut a small piece of her filet mignon. "Trust me, you haven't dealt with Bridezilla until the woman demanded a replacement of floral arrangements and a different colored frosting on her cake on the actual day of the wedding."

"Sounds like a right nightmare."

"I wasn't paid enough for all my troubles, that's for sure. I had to listen to Chef Francois prattle on in French for a good hour before he finally agreed to do that damn frosting. I think he hates me now."

He grinned fondly at her from across the table. "I highly doubt that, love."

She tilted her head, her silky blonde waves cascading over her shoulders. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm quite certain that it's a near-impossible feat."

The quiet laughter that escaped her throat was music to his ears. "Just so you know, I'm too smart to be seduced by you."

"Well, that's why I like you."

"You do realize that I'm not falling into bed with you tonight, right?"

Klaus flashed his dimples at her. "Now, what kind of a gentleman would I be to expect that on our first date?"

"A presumptuous one."

"Will there be a second and third date, then?"

Her blue eyes twinkled impishly, and once again Klaus found himself drawn to her magnetic pull. "It'll require a little more than just dinner, though."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Klaus sat in his studio for two full hours, growing increasingly more frustrated each time he failed to achieve the exact shade of gray-blue that he needed. He'd gone through half his tubes of paint, and his palette was an explosion of French Ultramarine, Cobalt Turquoise, Indigo and Mauve, and still, nothing matched that of Caroline's spellbinding eyes.

I got so scared, I thought no one could save me
You came along scooped me up like a baby

The blank canvas taunted him with its vast empty space. His fingers were itching to pick up a brush and begin something—anything—to soothe the jitters and put his haphazard mind at ease, but he could see nothing beyond the tones of gray. He didn't think it would be this hard; how completely naïve was he?

Such delicate beauty might take him months—probably years—to perfect. He might need to scour the entire universe just to find a pigment marginally close enough to replicate those of her irises.

And when Rebekah found him the next morning asleep amongst his art supplies, the canvas was still left untouched.

"I didn't know it would take so much work just to attain the right shade of blue."

An easy snicker escaped Klaus' lips, but his gaze was trained on the finished piece of what he deemed to be his greatest creation yet. The pride and dedication he possessed for it was evident, and although Stefan had a great appreciation for art, he wasn't the most skillful with a paintbrush and a canvas. His talents were stringing words together to form coherent sentences, and occasionally spinning a crap load of bullshit, but then again, not everybody had the luxury of earning a six-figure salary every month.

"It takes a lot more than that to attain perfection."

He found out about Caroline's love for horses after a not-so-casual conversation with Katherine—that might or might not have involved a healthy amount of ribbing and threats—and immediately invited her up to his family's stables in the countryside. The trip would be a good three-hour drive, and in the spirit of promising her another date, Klaus had his personal chef pack a picnic for two. Taking advantage of the sunny weather, he had even traded in his One-77 for Kol's sleek Porsche Spyder. It had taken a lot of bribing and convincing on his part, but Klaus reckoned allowing his brother to use his prized set of golf clubs was well worth it just to see the look of pure delight on Caroline's face.

She was giggling as she tried in vain to tame her wind-blown hair, a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose, and he had to struggle to keep his eyes peeled on the road. The English hills rolled by the further they drove out of the city, and Klaus wasn't sure how long it had been since he had last visited, but in the midst of all the hustle and bustle in his life, he realized that he had missed just being outdoors.

The gate to the estate and the stables were a welcoming sight, as was the fresh air, and when Klaus pulled up by a fountain, they were met with Alaric Saltzman, a staff and caretaker for the property who had been in service for more than ten years with the Mikaelsons.

"Nice to see you again, Niklaus."

"Good to be back, 'Ric. I'd like you to meet Caroline." Placing a hand gently on the small of her back, Klaus guided her closer. "She's a guest here and a friend of the family. She'll be planning Elijah and Katherine's wedding."

The man gave her a tight smile as he shook her hand. "I've prepared Achilles and Briseis for your arrival. They're awaiting you in the stables."

When Alaric turned to make his way over, Klaus lowered his head to murmur in her ear. "He doesn't speak much."

She aimed those arresting pools of liquid blues his way, and while he tried to gallantly to ignore how his brains were short-circuiting from the heat radiating from her body in their proximity, Klaus salvaged whatever semblance of wit he had left to commit that perplexing color to memory.

"You named your horses after Greek mythological beings?" she remarked rhetorically.

He shrugged. "They were sold in a pair. It was only fitting."

Caroline nudged her shoulders playfully against his and then proceeded to head after Alaric, the skip in her step making him chortle. After grabbing the basket of food from the backseat of the car, Klaus trudged for the stables to find that the blonde was already acquainting herself with the mare. She was cooing at the purebred, lovingly caressing its neck while Alaric made some minor adjustments to her saddle.

"I see you've met Briseis."

"I find it rather fitting that they're both Friesians," she grinned and then gestured towards his black stallion. "He's gorgeous."

"And a little temperamental, if I recall correctly," he smirked.

Alaric snickered from his post tightening the billet strap.

"Did he kick you in the nuts?"

"Worse," Klaus deadpanned as he ran his palm over the horse's forehead. "He kicked Rebekah."

Caroline clasped her hands over her mouth. "Oh, my God."

"That was the last time she would ever sneeze at Achilles' rear end."

Her tickled laughter rang high in the stables, and even as he recalled the painful couple of months dealing with his sister's bratty whims and complains from a broken fibula—because she claimed that it was apparently his fault—Klaus found himself joining in.

She kissed him that day; in the meadows on a picnic blanket as they sipped on champagne, and it shouldn't be so picturesque, except it was. They were exchanging stories from their rebellious phases in school when there was a lull in the conversation, and they simply basked in each other's company, admiring the horses as they grazed some distance away.

"We should probably head back soon," she told him. "I have an early flight tomorrow and I sort of promised Kat and Bekah I'd have dinner with them before I leave."

"Oh, of course, yeah." He was already scrambling to his feet before she caught his wrist and tugged him back down.

"Okay, stop," she sighed. "You don't get to do that, alright? Don't get all weird around me now. You knew this was going to happen. I've got a job and a life back home and—"

"No, no, you're right, I apologize. I shouldn't have assumed that you'd stay—"

Caroline silenced him, then. Her lips, so soft and pliant, slid over his and lingered for a breath-taking second before she all but seized his mouth in a searing kiss.

Every now and then the stars align
Boy and girl meet by the great design
Could it be that you and me are the lucky ones?

He froze; his brains unable to process what was happening, and it was only when he felt her tongue darting out to sample his did he snap out of his trance. Functioning purely on instinct, Klaus didn't hesitate in taking hold of her waist and bringing her flushed up against his chest. The movement tipped her off-balance and it sent them both careening to the ground. She pulled away ever so slightly to giggle at their clumsiness, so he rolled them over until he was underneath and staring up in awe at her beauty. A stray curl escaped the tie of her scrunchie and he reached up to tenderly tuck it behind her ear before tracing the delicate curve of her jaw with the pad of his thumb.

It was all he could do not to take her right there at that very moment and have his wicked way with her, but no, she deserved more than a careless romp on a picnic blanket.

She deserved the moon and stars, and the entire fucking universe.

She deserved the very best he could provide her with.

She deserved to be Queen and treated as such.

"You do know that you were never a one-time casual fling for me, don't you?"

"I do," she admitted shyly.

"So you realize that we're going to keep seeing each other, right?"

Caroline settled herself more comfortably on top of him and rested her chin over his heart. "I suppose there's always Skype, and e-mail, and text messaging. I could take myself out on an expensive date and charge it to your credit card, or maybe send an invoice each time I splurge during my monthly retail therapy session—"

"You seem to have it all figured out, haven't you, love?"

She shrugged as best as she could, considering the position she was in. "Well, I am a wedding planner, and I'll be flying back and forth, anyway."

"Hopefully I wouldn't have to wait a couple of months to take you out on our third date," he hinted cheekily.

Playing along, she feigned ignorance, her forehead crinkling adorably. "What happens on the third date?"

Klaus rubbed their noses together.

"I guess you'll just have to find out."

"Let me ask you something, my good lad," Klaus uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "Have you ever been in a long-distance relationship?"

Stefan felt obliged to tell him that the only thing that was 'long' with his past relationships was the dreadful post-break-up dry spell. One-night stands never meant anything to him, so he just avoided it altogether. Unveiling his true romantic nature aside, he reckoned it would make him look pathetic at best, and in an attempt to at least salvage some semblance of his manly ego, the writer cleared his throat and did his best to look nonchalant.

"I don't date much." It wasn't technically a lie. "But I would assume it wouldn't make for the most pleasant situations?"

"Try insufferable," he disclosed, and then pointed towards the two masterpieces that were hung on the wall across the room. "Of course my muse was strong, and I painted those consecutively within forty-two hours. I don't think I slept at all, in fact, but I was adamant on finishing them."

Stefan studied the artworks from the distance. "Her lips and her hands?"

"Her smile, her kisses and her touch."

He was getting ready for bed two days later when his mobile rang; a call from Caroline, and his face lit up at the unexpected sight. Rebekah had conveniently informed him of the woman's safe return, helpfully supplying him with the exact time of her arrival in Virginia to know that she had been home the afternoon before—American time—but had apparently gone straight back to work to fix a client's nervous breakdown.

"Hello, Caroline."

"Hello, Nik," she replied, and hearing her melodious voice again caused an ache in his chest. He missed her desperately and it hadn't even been a week. "I hope I'm not bothering you; I know it's probably past eleven there."

"Not at all, love. I take it that you've had a pleasant journey?"

She hummed, and in the background, he could identify the faint sounds of a television game show. "Thank you for bumping me up to first class, by the way. You really didn't need to do that."

Klaus smirked as he climbed under the covers, scooting back so that he was sitting against the headboard. "I couldn't have you flying coach with the rest of the peasants now, could I?"

Her laughter was just as potent through the phone. "You've spoiled me for anybody else."

"I should hope so," he grumbled, loathing the idea of some other sod even marginally glancing her way. "There's no going back now, Caroline. I intend to be your last, however long it takes."

There was a pause, and he wondered if she was just as overwhelmed by the distance as he seemed to be. Klaus closed his eyes, picturing her radiant smile before him and bright baby blues, but it only served to show him that it wasn't enough; that it would never be enough until she was there by his side once again.

"I found that wonderful drawing that you did," she spoke up again, her tone softer now than it was before. "Sneaky thing asking Rebekah to slip it into my luggage, though."

Reminding himself to thank his sister for it, Klaus chuckled in response.

"Glad you liked it, love. I thought it would be a nice souvenir for you to take home with."

"It's not the same, though, is it?" she murmured.

He sighed forlornly. "No, it's not."

The silence stretched on, yet filled with so many unspoken words; words that wouldn't mean the same if they weren't uttered in each other's physical presence.

"Good night, Nik."

Everybody told me love was blind
Then I saw your face and you blew my mind
Finally, you and me are the lucky ones this time

"Good night, Caroline."

They talked almost every evening after that. On the rare occasion that her schedule would let up and she could afford more than half an hour, she would park herself at a café with free Wi-Fi, order a cup of Caramel Macchiato, plug her laptop in, and he would be graced with her gorgeous face grinning back at him.

"So, I heard something interesting this morning," Caroline began during one particular Skype session, and that day, she had her hair braided and pinned up with tendrils framing her face.

He was in the common area, having a drink after holing himself up in the studio for nearly eight hours straight. "Did you now?"

"I was just told that your brother and his fiancée would be crossing the pond next week. Apparently, there's this gorgeous gown that Kat had been eyeing, but she would need to be here personally for the fitting."

Klaus perked up at the news. "And how is it that dear Elijah hasn't informed me of this recent development?"

"I'm their wedding planner, Nik," she teased with a roll of her eyes. "It's kind of my job to know about everything first."

He scowled at her. "Next week, you say?"

"April 15th, to be exact."

Klaus was already reaching for his phone to send a text message to his brother. "Keep your 16th free, then, love."

"Why is that?"

"I still owe you a third date."

Katherine huffed in annoyance and slammed the bridal magazine down onto her lap. "Would you stop that?" she snapped, glaring at him from across the aisle of his family's private jet. "You're going to cause an earthquake in the plane with all that bouncing you're doing."

In the seat next to her, Elijah glanced up from reading his newspaper to regard his brother with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Honestly, Niklaus. Perhaps a glass of scotch would calm your jitters," he dryly commented.

"I can't believe you didn't deem it important to mention that Caroline's mother is the town's sheriff," he groused. "What if she decides that she doesn't like me and then proceeds to shoot me with her gun?"

"Whoa, you need to chill, big boy," the brunette sniggered. "We're just going to meet the sheriff because she's practically like a mom to me, and I would like for her to meet Elijah before the wedding. You, on the other hand, don't even need to be in Virginia."

Klaus scoffed. "Yes, well, surely now I'm expected to meet her as well, considering I'm currently involved with her only daughter and everything."

Arching an eyebrow, Katherine fixed him with a stern look. "Involved? And what, pray tell, does that actually mean? Is it serious between you and Caroline? Is it another one of those temporary fixation of yours just to feed your artistic muse?"

"Katherine, I doubt that's what he means—"

"Let him speak, Elijah," she cut in sharply. "I'd like to know what his intentions are with my best friend, because she's not one of your floozies, Klaus. If you're going to be with her, then you can't just run off when it's time to commit."

"Look, I assure you that I've had this talk with Bekah and she has made it very clear that you'd rip my balls off and feed them to the dogs if I ever hurt Caroline, but believe me, I definitely don't intend on doing so," Klaus vowed, staring at his future sister-in-law straight in the eye to let her know that he wasn't just shitting around. It wasn't the striking blue that he was so addicted with, but rather a dark chocolate brown, though it was no less important at the moment. "I'm in love with her, Katherine, and I'd very much like to have her in my life for as long as she'd have me."

Katherine seemed to consider his words carefully, searching his face for signs of bullshit, and when she appeared satisfied with his sincerity, she leaned back and nodded, almost as if she was convincing herself instead.

"Good to know, then."

The first thing Klaus noticed when they landed was that Caroline wasn't alone. He wasn't going to jump to any conclusions, lest he transformed into an irrationally jealous dick and scare her off, so as he descended the steps, he tried not to focus on the how perfectly content she looked standing beside the stranger whom he had yet to meet.

"Oh, my God! Matt!" Katherine cried out, as she immediately broke into a sprint—impressively on those 6-inch heels, no less—and launched herself at the peppy-looking guy, hugging him with the death grip of a python. "I didn't know you were back in town."

"You're choking me, Kat," he wheezed, prying her limbs from around his neck.

"Oh, shut up," she sniggered, but released him anyway. "You know you love it."

Caroline had yet to even glance his way as he approached with Elijah by his side; still preoccupied watching the reunion play out with a giddiness of a child during Christmas, before she too joined in, warmly embracing the brunette and exchanging pleasantries.

"Matt, I'd like you to meet my fiancé, Elijah Mikaelson," Katherine introduced, linking her arm through the crook of the man's elbow. "Elijah, this is one of my and Caroline's oldest childhood friend, Matt Donovan. He's with the Navy Seals, so he travels a lot to do missions and stuff."

Elijah extended his hand out. "Pleased to meet you Mr. Donovan."

"It's Matt, and the pleasure's all mine."

"And that—" Katherine deliberately paused as she gestured towards the Mikaelson who had yet to say anything. "I think I'll leave Caroline to do the introductions."

The woman in question flushed a deep crimson, and Klaus stood with bated breath, fists clenched at his sides to stop himself from surging forward, wrapping her up in his embrace and taking her somewhere far away where they could be alone. Those irresistible blue-gray eyes met his, instantly bewitching him, casting him under her spell, that he didn't realize how she had moved and was now barely inches away from him.

"Hello, Nik."

"Hello, Caroline."

God, how he loved those eyes.

"Could the both of you just kiss already and get it over with?" Katherine rudely interrupted as she grinned wickedly at the couple. "Some of us would like to have a bit of food in our stomachs from the long flight."

"Matt, this is Niklaus Mikaelson, my boyfriend."

The feelings exploding in his chest were indescribable, and he didn't hesitate in cradling her delicate face in his palms and closing the remaining gap to seize her lips in a long-awaited kiss. He melted into it, finally satiated after weeks of nothing but phone conversations and Skype sessions, and allowed his tongue to sample the inner crevice of her mouth. Her fingers raked through the curls at the nape of his neck, sending a delicious shiver coursing down his spine.

Boy, get into my car, got a bad desire
You know that we'll never leave if we don't get out now, now, now

"Okay, no, I take that back," Katherine's voice pierced through their blissful bubble. "That's just—" she shuddered dramatically. "Save the slobbering for the bedroom, alright?"

"Did anybody else find that really hot?" Matt piped up.

"On the contrary," Elijah quipped. "I think I had just lost my appetite."

Caroline narrowed her gaze at the older Mikaelson.

You're a careless con, and you're a crazy liar
But baby, nobody can compare to the way you get down, down, down

"Don't be a hater, Elijah."

Their third date ended up being a quiet night in with home-cooked food over at Caroline's apartment, and Klaus didn't think he'd be so relieved to know that she wasn't living with her mother. Meeting the parental unit wasn't exactly his forte, so he had hoped to prolong the inevitable until he was certain he wouldn't piss in his pants from mortification.

He arrived at her door at a quarter to seven with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon in one hand. Although she had specifically told him not to bring anything, it was obviously the gentlemanly thing to do to at least bring the wine. It took her a good couple of seconds to answer when he knocked, and seamlessly, Klaus found himself once more completely enamored by the startling beauty smiling widely back at him.

"Hi!" she chirped, stepping aside to allow him to enter. "Come in."

"Hello, love," he crooned, and because he couldn't help himself, Klaus wound his arms around her slim waist and leaned down to capture her soft rosy lips between his eager ones in a thorough kiss that he'd been anticipating since he woke up that morning.

Caroline hummed appreciatively into his mouth, her fingers bunching the front of his Henley as she reluctantly pulled away, looking positively dazed. "Wow," she breathed, and then seemed to remember her hosting duties and straightened up. "I thought I told you not to bring anything," she protested, pointing accusingly at the bottle in his grasp.

"What kind of gracious guest would I be, then?"

Rolling her eyes, she took the wine from him. "Have a seat; dinner's almost ready," she informed him before padding into the kitchen.

Klaus took in his surroundings, catching the minor details in the interior décor and furniture that made the loft uniquely Caroline's—from the cheery cream-colored walls, plush carpets, and Lawson-style sofas, to the bright cushions and the tiny bits and bobs that lined the shelves—and he spotted a framed photo of her and an older woman, presumably her mother, sitting atop a side drawer.

"I hope you like pasta," she said as she brought their plates to the coffee table, where placemats and cutlery had already been set up beforehand. A small vase with fresh-cut Cosmos flowers acted as a centerpiece, and to add to the mood, she even had a couple of candles lit. All in all, she had gone beyond what he had anticipated for their quiet evening in. "It's a sort of specialty of mine, and I tend to burn things more often than not in the oven."

Klaus' heart constricted, wondering if it was possible to fall deeper in love with her than he already was.

"It looks and smells exquisite, love," he assured her.

She blushed, suddenly bashful, and it was such a rare sight to catch her looking anything less than her confident self that he couldn't resist taking her hand and pulling her closer so that he could encircle his arms around her waist. Instantly, he was lost in her clear blue eyes, and for the umpteenth time, he marveled at the complex mix of colors.

Would he ever get it right?

"Thank you," he murmured. "I've never had a woman slave over a stove for me."

I tried so hard to act nice like a lady
You taught me that it was good to be crazy

She shrugged modestly. "It was either this or The Grill, and I think I'm way past my adolescent years to be seen hanging around there. Besides, it's not exactly Restaurant Gordon Ramsay or a picnic in the meadows—"

"It's perfect."

Her radiant smile could outshine the sun, and Lord help him, she was so fucking beautiful. Slowly, she rose on her tiptoes to softly graze her supple lips against his, sending a jolt down every nerve ending in his body.

"I love you," she whispered.

Was this how dying and going to heaven felt like?

Sublime delirium.

Words; they were just three little words, and yet it brought about a wave of euphoria so foreign and intense, he wondered how he was still alive.

"Nik, breathe."

"I love you too."

Dinner was conveniently forgotten after that.

They had more pressing matters to attend to—lips to devour, clothes to shed, carpets to trip over on their mad race to get to her room—and when the door was finally kicked shut behind them, Klaus was positive he was on the brink of self-combusting from the anticipation. His hands were trembling in a way so uncharacteristic of him, it suddenly felt as though he had been transported back to his pre-pubescent years, trying to sort out his head from his dick.

"Nik?"

Her tone sounded tentative, with a twinge of concern, and he snapped out of his inner monologue to glance up at the divinity that was Caroline Forbes. The image of her in nothing but that matching black lace lingerie set would forever be imprinted in his head; the way her hips swayed with each step she took to stand before him, and how her glorious blonde locks tumbled down in rich golden waves.

Oh, she was stunning.

Every now and then the stars align
Boy and girl meet by the great design
Could it be that you and me are the lucky ones?

And he was nothing if not completely at her mercy.

"Are you okay?"

Her hands slid over his shoulders and she felt her thumbs caressing the sides of his neck in soothing circles, and damn if it wasn't single-handedly the most erotic thing he had experienced. She was glowing, her skin soft and porcelain, an enchanting smile gracing her features, and instinctively, his arms encircled her waist to settle on the small of her back. He pulled her closer and nodded, brushing the tip of his nose against hers.

"I just love looking at you, sweetheart," he told her adoringly.

She bit on her bottom lip, her head lowering diffidently. "You're just saying that because you want to sleep with me."

"I'm just saying that because it's true."

Narrowing her eyes playfully, she effortlessly quipped back. "You're just so charming, aren't you?"

He drew patterns up and down the length of her spine, the corner of his lips twitching into his trademark smirk. "It's the accent, love."

"Those are beer goggles for your fan girls, Nik," she scoffed. "They don't work on me."

"I beg to differ, my dear." His voice dropped into that sultry baritone. "I know you love it when I utter your name in this accent of mine."

She arched an eyebrow. "I do not."

"Caroline…"

He made an extra effort in enunciating each syllable; the consonants and vowels rolling silkily down his tongue, practically purring in her ears, and he couldn't keep the smugness at bay when he noticed the slight hitch in her breath.

"I think I've proven my point, Ms. Forbes."

"Shut up," she giggled before tugging him down for a scorching kiss.

He backed her up against a wall while devouring her mouth, practically ripping the rest of the flimsy material off her lithe body in his impatience. The way she moaned in delight made his still encased erection swell, and he vowed to be able to hear that every single day for the rest of his life. His fingers flexed and curled against the milky flesh of her hips, digging deep enough to bruise for days. That thought alone triggered a primal, dangerously carnal stirring in his gut, and with a growl, Klaus slammed his pelvis against hers.

"Nik!" she cried out breathlessly up to the heavens.

"Sweetheart…"

The thin material separating him from the contact he so craved proved to be too much, and in one hard tug, his boxer briefs were pooling at his feet. His raging manhood jumped in its freedom, no longer in its confines, but before he could do anything else, Caroline was already reaching to envelope him in her palm. She dexterously stroked his rigid length, teasing him, a sly smirk on her cheeky Cupid's bow as he strained maintain a semblance of control.

"Fuck, Caroline…"

"Such foul language, Niklaus," she tutted, dropping languid kisses down the slope of his neck. "I should have you punished."

He groaned, the effect of her words and actions almost unbearable. It was the stuff of fantasies—of the nights he was alone in an empty bed, his head filled with images of her—and the burning ache as he refused to give into temptation. No, he wouldn't reduce her to such lecherous standards, and would instead reconcile to the cold showers and painful discomforts. Hearing her purr out words only ever uttered in his covert dreams sent a new wave of desire crashing down on him.

"Oh, love…"

His feet were moving before he realized that she was gently pushing him backwards, both palms warm against his bare chest—one directly above his pounding heart—and he relished at the mixture of love and lust smoldering in her baby blue eyes. One coaxing shove had him tumbling onto the duvet and bouncing slightly from the springy mattress. A smile spread across her swollen lips before she took the bottom one between her teeth.

Radiant and statuesque, she stood gazing down at him, and he cursed the fact that he didn't have his sketchbook and pencil at hand to capture her blushing grace.

"You're staring again."

He beamed unabashedly and tilted his head. "Come here, sweetheart."

Lowering herself on her hands and knees, Caroline prowled over his naked form until she was situated comfortably atop his crotch and straddling his tapered hips. With her intense gaze still locked onto his, she reached behind her back to undo the clasp of her brassiere, allowing the straps to slide down the length of her arms before she peeled off the lacy cups. The twin mounds of her pale breasts greeted him and greedily, he seized one pert nipple into his mouth and began showering it with attention. The sound of her gasping sigh was everything he had imagined and more. His tongue swirled and laved at the cresting peak as he tweaked at the other between his thumb and index finger.

"Nik…" she whimpered with unbridled need. "I need…oh, God…I need…"

He knew exactly what she needed. Without halting from his ardent ministrations, Klaus inched his free hand downwards and traced the edge of her scanty knickers. She squirmed restlessly mewling as he continued teasing her with light strokes, dipping further south to brush against the dampness seeping through the thin material. Shifting the fabric aside, he sank one digit, then two, into her slicked opening and began pumping in unhurried motions. She keened, writhing and trembling as he skillfully unraveled her into a quivering mess.

When at long last he couldn't resist all that she was any longer, Klaus flipped her onto her back and festinately ripped the sorry excuse for underwear down her toned legs. He allowed her only a short moment of reprieve to recover before he was prodding against her entrance. Her wide blue eyes snapped up to meet his darkened ones, her blooming bosoms rising and falling with each stuttered breath she took and stole from him. A thousand masterpieces and a million frescos couldn't compare to the vision of Caroline Forbes spread out before him, her luxurious curls fanned out like rays of sunshine on the pillow, and completely at his mercy.

"Are you waiting for a written invitation, Nik?" she cheekily remarked.

Taking that as his cue, Klaus leisurely eased himself into her. Inch by inch, he filled her snug passage; savoring each second, his muscles tensing as he fought against the impulse to simply plunge into her with a wild abandon. Sheathed in her heat, she felt incredible, and he was a drowning man reduced to monosyllables and breathless whispers of her name. Her nails clawed into his back as she rocked her hips, not so subtly urging him to move, and who was he to deny her—and him—what she wanted?

"Oh, Nik…"

He withdrew just enough to leave the tip of his shaft still seated inside of her; the sheets tightly clutched in his fists, and with his gaze still locked on hers, Klaus languorously drove back in. The way his name fell upon her lips like a raspy prayer fanned the flames already simmering beneath the surface, threatening to snap his teetering self-restraints, and the harshness of his breaths were a testament to the way he was valiantly clinging onto the final shreds of his willpower.

"We can do sweet and slow later, Nik," she told him with an intriguing sense of urgency, restlessly grinding up into him. "Right now, I just want you hard and fast, and no holding back."

He didn't need to be told twice.

The bed rattled with each powerful thrust as he began slamming into her blissful haven with renewed vigor. He kept a frantic pace; greedily, almost desperate in each push and pull to claim every part of her. Studiously, he brought them to a climb, sparing nothing as the pressure built between them, feeling her clench around his pulsing member until he wasn't able to hang on any longer, and they shattered together in a burst of dazzling light.

Everybody told me love was blind
Then I saw your face and you blew my mind
Finally, you and me are the lucky ones this time

Unceremoniously, he collapsed over her to catch his breath, panting as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck and lapped at the droplets of perspiration he found on her dewy skin. Tiny tremors wrecked through their sated bodies while they basked in the afterglow, but then she was giggling giddily, ruffling at his mussed hair.

"What?" he muttered without lifting his face.

"I worked really hard on dinner, and we didn't even eat it."

He shrugged his shoulders as best as he could in the position. "We can always just stick it in the microwave later."

"Won't that offend your delicate palate?" she teased.

"Maybe it's because I've tasted something better."

"You're such a smooth talker, aren't you, Mikaelson?"

He shot her a dimpled grin. "Only with you, Forbes."

"Nik!"

Both men turned to the source of such a jovial exclamation; the tinkling voice that had rudely interrupted the interview, and found that it belonged to an over-excited blonde with flat-ironed hair a toothy grin practically skipping over in a sequined emerald-colored dress and six-inch heels. The innocent child-like quality in which her eyes lit up was unlike anything Stefan had witnessed in his life; it was truly astounding. She perched gracefully down on the arm of the chair and enthusiastically wrapped her arms around Klaus' neck before leaning down to plant a kiss to his cheek.

"Bekah," he drolled as she rubbed furiously at the lipstick stain left on his skin. "It's nice to see that your incessant need for public displays of affection hasn't dwindled with the years."

Of course, the acclaimed youngest sister.

"It's good to see you too, big brother," she chirped. "Is Caroline here yet? I haven't seen her around."

"She's running a little late; something about Calla lilies and cream-colored chiffon."

"Are you excited, then?" she gushed on. "Are the butterflies in your stomach eating you up, yet? God, you're not about to barf now, are you? I mean, you are ready for this, right? And she doesn't suspect a thing—"

"Bekah, stop," he gently cut in, more amused than irritated. "I'm not about to barf, and no, she doesn't suspect a thing, but if you can't already tell, I'm currently in the middle of an interview that you have so rudely interrupted."

Stefan watched the exchange with a strange sort of fondness as Klaus made a subtle gesture with his head, because it had been years since he had last spoken to his very own sibling. After a particularly nasty fall-out—over a girl, no less, though the image of Elena straddling Damon still burned in his mind—he had fled the country to escape their betrayal, and simply hadn't been in a forgiving mood ever since.

"Oh, shit, sorry, I seem to have forgotten my manners," she hopped on back to her feet and extended her right hand. "I'm Rebekah Mikaelson."

"Stefan Salvatore. I'm a writer for The Grimoire." She looked almost disappointed that he hadn't kissed her knuckles like any honorary gentleman would, but quickly recovered enough to tactfully appraise his choice of attire. "It's—it's a pleasure to meet you. Klaus has mentioned so much about you."

She wasn't all that impressed. "All good, I presume?"

"You know I love you, Bekah."

"Oh, sod off," she scoffed, playfully nudging his ribs. "All right then, I'm going to leave you to it, but I swear Nik if you make me look like an idiot, I'll have your sexual privileges with Caroline revoked indefinitely."

"You can't do that!" he protested. "She's my girlfriend, not yours."

"Chicks before dicks, dear brother."

With an artful flip of her hair, Rebekah theatrically sauntered off, her hips swaying with each step, and Stefan fought against the impulsive urge to ogle her fine behind.

"I would appreciate you not staring at my sister's arse while I'm sitting right in front of you."

Stefan caught his notebook barely in time before it hit the polished floor, stuttering an apology as his face flushed crimson to the tip of his ears, slightly ashamed that he might have accidentally offended his interviewee, but Klaus only chuckled.

"She is a bit of a strumpet, I'm afraid, and notoriously vain, but she's far more fragile than she looks," he divulged. "Still, she'll break your heart into a million pieces if you let her."

"Thanks," Stefan muttered guiltily, rubbing at the nape of his neck. "I think."

"That being said, I would appreciate it even more if you don't mention any of that in the paper. Or the bit about sexual privileges for that matter."

He wasn't that cruel.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good," Klaus replied, sounding somewhat relieved at the assurance. "Because having a row with Caroline is about the worst thing that could possibly happen."

They had their first fight on the day he was set to return to London. Katherine and Elijah had flown out of Virginia early that morning because the latter had an important matter to attend to in the office, and the brunette wasn't going to fly internationally with the rest of the peasants, so Klaus had decided he would take the red-eye instead to steal a couple more hours with his girlfriend.

It started during breakfast. Caroline had been busy settling the details for the wedding—and he wasn't under the delusion that his future sister-in-law was a breeze to handle—so their time together had been limited at best. In fact, they had lost an entire day just to indulge in Katherine's whims to drive over to the next town so that she could peruse some floral arrangements, and Klaus had been left sitting at a café with Elijah, drinking bad coffee and watching his brother constantly tap on that tablet of his. A series of napkins had fallen victim to his mindless doodles, and by the time the ladies had met with them again, the sun had begun to set.

Therefore, in the spirit of giving Caroline some unforgettable final moments before they part indefinitely to two separate continents, he had suggested they should have the best waffles and pancakes Mystic Falls had to offer. It was nice and sunny out, so they decided to take advantage of the crispy weather and occupy a table along the pavement. After engaging their server in polite chatter—a brother of an old friend, it seemed—they were left to their own devices as they waited for their food to arrive. Conversation flowed effortlessly as it always did with her; there were even a couple of appropriate complaints about Katherine's indecisiveness, and with it the talks about his impending departure and how the week had passed by so quickly.

"Care? Caroline Forbes?"

He watched with barely-disguised hostility as a man stepped up to their table and beamed down at his girlfriend in an all-too-friendly manner, completely disregarding the fact that she had present company.

"Tyler!" she exclaimed. "What are you—I mean, hi! Here, this is Niklaus Mikaelson, Katherine's brother-in-law. Nik, this is Tyler Lockwood. We went to high school together."

Klaus wondered if he ought to be slightly offended that she chose to introduce him as merely a relative of a friend instead of the true nature in their relationship, but there was a sense of recognition in Tyler's eyes at the mention of their mutual peer, so perhaps that carried a bit more weight than a mere boyfriend. Still, he could help but be a little miffed when they exchanged handshakes and pleasantries enough to appear civil in such a public domain. No point engaging in a pissing contest in the middle of such a fine establishment; Klaus preferred to believe that he was above such primitive behavior, though he couldn't say the same for the other man now silently assessing him from head to toe.

"I didn't know you were in town," Caroline burbled. "Matt mentioned that you were handling your family's properties over in Europe."

"Well, I was," the lad replied as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I flew back last night, actually. Which part of the England are you from, Nik?"

"It's Klaus," he told the man testily. "Only my family calls me Nik. I live in London. I'm just here visiting with my brother, Elijah, because his bride insisted she couldn't find the perfect wedding dress anywhere else."

"Can you believe that Katherine actually thinks that a Vera Wang gown is too mainstream?" Caroline rolled her bright baby blue orbs, releasing a playful scoff.

"Shocking," Tyler snickered. "Are you here long then, Klaus?"

The male Mikaelson narrowed his eyes, not sure if he liked where the conversation was heading. "I leave tonight."

"Oh, which reminds me, Care," the lesser commoner continued. "I'm meeting Jeremy and Bonnie for drinks later at The Grill. You should join us; catch up on what's been going on. Jules will be there too, and I know how you two ladies love talking shit about me when you think I'm not listening."

"We actually do that on purpose because you're terrible at taking a hint," she laughed.

"So you'll be there then?"

She nodded. "I'll be there."

He had the audacity to wink at her. "Can't wait. It's nice meeting you, Klaus. Have a good flight."

Klaus wanted to stab him in the back with a fork, but he didn't think Caroline would appreciate it. "An old beau of yours?" he asked, not bothering to tone down on the snarkiness because yes, he wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect, but jealousy certainly wasn't an attractive quality to have.

Her left eyebrow twitched at the hidden implications. "We did date during the summer of sophomore year, if that's what you're itching to know."

"I find the fact that you've left out one tiny detail in our association rather fascinating."

"Nik—"

"Am I really just that to you? Katherine's brother-in-law?"

"It's not like that at all and you know it—"

He cut her off again before she could finish. "You had no problems telling Matt that I'm your boyfriend. Is there a reason why Tyler was an exception?"

"Oh, my God, I cannot believe this," she laughed humorlessly, slapping a hand over her forehead. "Are you seriously bothered by that?"

"Why won't you tell him?"

"I don't know! Maybe I thought it wasn't important—"

"I love you, Caroline," he all but declared to the whole fucking world. "How is that not important?"

"That's not what I meant—"

His face twisted into a scornful grimace. "Do you still have feelings for him? Is that it?"

"Stop it!" she hissed. "Why are you being like this?"

"Me? What about you? Clearly, there's some kind of unresolved sexual tension between you and Tyler. Would you like me to close my eyes while you two sort it out?"

"This is ridiculous!" she sputtered, jumping to her feet. "I can't believe it! Are you really going to sit there and falsely accuse me of something that isn't true?"

"I know what I saw."

"Then you obviously weren't looking close enough," she huffed. "Because if you had taken one second to see past all that foolish jealousy, Klaus, you would realize that Tyler is happily married, to Jules."

Her stormy departure felt like a stab right into his gut; the sight of her retreating back—rigid and devoid of the warmth that he only ever associated with her—stung like a million darts puncturing his lungs.

"You did what?"

Rebekah's indignant screech bounced off the kitchen walls like nails on the chalkboard, and he winced as the piercing shrillness rang in his ears. Still, it was nothing compared to the hard thwack she delivered to the back of his head, and then subsequently the rounds of smacking he received to his other bodily parts; all the while she was cursing him in every language she could think of.

"Would you stop it?" he growled, sidestepping his sister's relentless attempts at causing him immeasurable amounts of physical pain. "I'm not your punching bag, Bekah."

"I can't believe you!"

It was rather eerie how similar she sounded to Caroline.

"You're a bloody prick, you are," she lashed out. "A right fucking tosser. Why'd you do that?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I wasn't thinking straight, I suppose—"

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Niklaus Mikaelson!" Katherine's terrifying threat reached even the deepest corners of the vast mansion as she marched into the room, a withering glare aimed straight at his person. "I'm going to skin you alive, pull your intestines out from your throat and impale your ass on a stake!"

He was in for it now, he was certain. These two women would eat him alive, chew him to pieces and spit him out if it was allowed, and serve his balls for dessert.

"As creative as that sounds, I can assure you that it's completely unnecessary, Katherine."

"Do you have any idea what you did?" the brunette seethed. Klaus was about to open his mouth and defend himself when she effectively thwarted his efforts with a raised finger. "You have just successfully proved to Caroline that you are no better than all of the other men before you. You and your petty jealousy, jumping to all the wrong conclusions; you're treating her the same way her past boyfriends did."

There was a sour taste in his mouth. "Like Tyler did?"

Katherine narrowed her amber eyes as a clear warning. "You don't even know half of it," she harshly retorted. "I swear to God, if you weren't Elijah's brother, I would've beaten you to a pulp right now."

He didn't for a second doubt that.

"Look, I get it," he drew out a regretful sigh. "I overreacted, and I shouldn't have said all those things to her. I didn't know what came over me; it was out of my control. I saw the lad, and saw how familiar he was with her, and I couldn't stop all the possessive rage from consuming me. I hadn't meant to hurt her at all."

"But you did, and you need to fix this, Nik," Rebekah implored.

"I will," he promised. "I'll grovel if I have to; I'll do it until she forgives me."

"No," Katherine snarled. "You've done enough damage as it is. I want you to stay away from her."

He laughed humorlessly. "That's not going to happen and you know it."

"I forbid you, Klaus. I'll chain you up if I have to, but you're never going to see her again."

"Give me one good reason why, Katherine," he propelled forward, crowding into her personal space. "Tell me why I shouldn't fly halfway across the world to apologize and acquit myself to the woman I love."

Her lips clamped shut; she didn't have an answer for him.

"That's what I thought."

He was inches from the front door, one hand raised to open it when the clicking sound of Katherine's trademark high heels made him pause.

"She was engaged once," she revealed, and then waited for him to turn around to continue. "To Tyler—and they were happy—that ideal couple everybody envied—until his raging jealousy tore them apart and she realized that she couldn't be with someone who would hurt one of her closest friends. Matt ended up in the hospital with a broken arm, and that was when Caroline had enough and walked out. Till this day, Matt hasn't really forgiven Tyler for what he did, and neither does she. Whatever she is to Tyler now is nothing more than polite civility because she's friends with Jules."

Klaus shifted his eyes over her shoulders to where his sister stood solemnly, staring at the marble flooring as though it was the most fascinating thing piece of workmanship she had ever seen.

"Is that true?"

Very reluctantly, Rebekah nodded. "You weren't supposed to find out like this."

A lick of fire consumed his entire being, curling and twisting, ready to explode.

He had to see her.

"Tell Elijah I'm taking the jet."

"See that piece over there?" Klaus gestured to the smallest one of the entire collection. It was of a pair of long, toned legs, clad in firecracker-red heels, the woman clearly in mid-stride, and unlike the others, this one had darker contrasts and harsher lines.

Stefan nodded, already anticipating the story behind it. "Yeah."

"I did that on the plane ride over," he explained, remorse lacing his words. "I didn't have my canvas or my sketchbook with me, so I used the sheets from the bed in the cabin. Borrowed some black and red marker pens from the pilot, stretched the cloth over the table and I began working."

"Why that part of her? Why not the front of her legs?"

"I wanted a reminder for what it felt that day she walked away from me."

She was out, and her neighbor was unsurprisingly not helpful on her whereabouts—considering she was a seventy-year-old lady with a hunch and hearing aids—so he was left with no other choice but to camp out in front of her door and patiently await her return. His mobile buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, only to scowl at Kol's completely unnecessary text message of threats to his manhood should he do anything quite so fucking stupid again. Klaus ignored him, not in the mood for dallying with his brother's juvenile attempts at riling him up, and began sifting through his social media feed to pass the time.

Forty-five minutes later, he heard the soft approaching footsteps and glanced up. Caroline hadn't seen him, too busy digging through her purse while balancing a paper bag full of groceries. Klaus immediately shot to his feet and hastily dusted off his clothes, suddenly monumentally nervous about being there, unsure how she would receive him.

"Here, let me help you with that," he offered, gently taking the load off her arm.

"Oh, thanks, I—"

She froze, recognizing his voice, but it was a good three seconds before she moved, reaching up to tuck some strands of blonde hair behind her ear, and then those cornflower blue eyes finally snapped up to meet his gaze. The air left his lungs; his mouth ran dry and he was struck by the look of sheer anguish and betrayal tainting her angelic features. He wasn't ready for the backlash, though—had completely underestimated the agonizing stab to his gut—and visibly flinched at the sudden onslaught.

"What are you doing here, Klaus?"

There wasn't malice in her tone—none of the contempt that he had been expecting—however, the fact that she had used his common name stung more than he imagined. It felt as though a million wooden splinters were lodged in his chest, and for a second, he contemplated abandoning his mission, but knew that if he wanted even a smidge of chance with her, he would have to suck it up and face his punishment like a man.

"Can I—can we go in first?" he asked. "I'm sure your neighbors are starting to think that I'm a creepy lurker."

Wordlessly, she unlocked the door and crossed the threshold without a backwards glance, certain that he would follow her in. The groceries were snatched out of his grasp and placed on the kitchen counter, and as she busied herself putting them away, he couldn't help but be grateful that she was giving him the time to compose himself.

"Katherine told me."

She stilled, one hand in the paper bag before slowly lifting her eyes to meet his. "About what?"

"About Tyler, about the engagement, about what he did to Matt." Even from the distance, he could see her hands trembling. "I'm not like him, Caroline. I—" he expelled a long exhale. "I don't want to be like him, and I apologize for the hurt that I've caused. I don't know what came over me, I mean, Rebekah would tell you that I'm hardly the jealous type, but I've also never been so in love with somebody so much that the mere thought of another man even looking your way made me into an irrational fool—"

"Klaus—"

"I shouldn't have accused you like that; it was completely out of line, and I promise that I won't ever do it again—"

"Klaus—"

"If I lose you now, I don't think I could ever forgive myself, but I can't imagine my life without you, Caroline, and if I could turn back time and do things right, I would—"

"Nik!"

She was inches from him now, her palms warm against his cheeks, those cornflower blue eyes wet with unshed tears, and almost automatically, he nuzzled into her touch. "Stop," she whispered. "You couldn't have known—"

"I was a right prick."

"That you were," she agreed with a watery chuckle. "But I should've told you about Tyler, or I should've told Tyler about us—"

"No, you didn't have to—"

A finger to his lips silenced his protests. "And you're right, I didn't, because he doesn't deserve to know anything about me—about us—anymore."

"Assuming there's still an 'us'."

Her forehead crinkled in confusion. "Why wouldn't there be?"

"I figured I've done enough damage and all…"

Feels like, feels like, you know,
It feels like falling in love for the first time

"Nik," she murmured, a smile blooming on her face. "It's going to take a lot more than you overreacting to drive me away. Besides," she added with a shrug. "Good-looking British guys with amazing artistic talents are hard to come by these days."

His arms circled her waist and pulled her in. "It's very assuring that you're with me just for my artistic abilities, love."

"Now you're just fishing for compliments, aren't you?"

"Who, me?" he quipped back in feigned innocence.

Playfully, she smacked his chest. "You know, I don't think this long-distance thing is working for us."

"I disagree, I think we're doing just fine."

"You know what I mean, Nik."

He took a lock of her hair and twirled it around his finger. "I do, and yes, I absolutely hate it, Caroline. Elijah may be rather generous with the jet, but I can't keep flying back and forth every weekend just to see you."

"What if I went over," she peered coquettishly up at him through her lashes. "To London. Permanently."

"Caroline—"

"I mean, you know, since I can pretty much work from anywhere in the world, I wouldn't have to constrain myself to Mystic Falls, right? I can work from England, and it'll be easier to calm Katherine down when she starts having a panic attack over the wedding preparations, and she's there and Rebekah's there, and you're there—even Kol's there—so it doesn't make much sense to be alone here, you know—"

He stopped her in mid-rant—although he found it to be quite adorable—by closing the space between them and sealing his lips over hers. Kissing Caroline always felt like he was diving face-first off a cliff, all the pent-up adrenalin coursing through his veins, and when she reciprocated just as passionately, he was lost to the consuming need to claim her as his once again. His tongue plundered in, swiping into the honeyed recesses of her mouth, starving for her taste, but he wasn't about to blow his chances by rushing her into it so quickly after a fall-out. Very unwillingly, he released her and took an infinitesimal step back.

"Sweetheart, are you sure?"

He had to know.

Sunlight streamed in from the windows and reflected off her sparkling blue orbs, drawing out the unique hues and shades in a moment's clarity. The colors—the combinations he could now see for what they truly were—danced beautifully around her irises, an enchanting blend of beauty and grace.

Feels like, you know,
It feels like falling in love

"I want to be wherever you are."

"Sorry to interrupt, gentleman," Elijah's smooth voice cut in politely, though his looming presence commanded authority, and Stefan suddenly understood why he was London's most sought-after lawyer. His suit was impeccable, not a single crease in sight, the dress shoes on his feet polished to perfection, his silhouette an imposing image. "Katherine has sent me to inform you, Niklaus, that Caroline has just arrived."

Klaus' features softened and his eyes sparkled anew as he stood up and straightened his outfit. "Mr. Salvatore, I believe we can finish this interview a bit later. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Stefan barely managed a reply before both Mikaelson brothers were already striding their way across the room towards the main foyer. He watched with rapt interest—now that he had been privy to the artist's private life—as Klaus took center stage and called for the room's attention.

"If everyone could gather, please," his voice rang strong and sure above the crowd. "Welcome, and thank you for being here on this remarkable day. I am grateful to have in attendance my beloved family and friends who have supported me, and my passions throughout the years. As an artist, I've always struggled with searching for the right inspiration—a muse, a motivation—and then one day, it found me."

She appeared then, like a flaxen-haired Goddess gliding in, and it was near impossible to miss the way she instantly brightened the space. Stefan felt the air leave his lungs, the same way he had the first time he had laid his eyes upon the frescoes decorating the walls and ceilings of St. Peter's Basilica. She was Persephone reincarnate walking amongst mere mortals; the way all of Klaus' artworks knitted together to form one big masterpiece, it was a rather surreal moment.

"She's beautiful, strong, full of light, and till this day, I still find myself wondering what I've done in my previous life to deserve her love."

Every now and then the stars align
Boy and girl meet by the great design
Could it be that you and me are the lucky ones?

Their eyes met, and it was as if the distance wasn't there, the gravitational pull towards each other was so strong, Stefan felt its magnetic force all the way from his spot. The guests were noticing now, their gazes following that of their host to where the woman stood, flustered from all the unexpected attention, a pretty blush staining her cheeks. Klaus approached her, his steps echoing against the marble flooring, his stare never wandering, and then the place was filled with a simultaneous chorus of gasps when he bent down on one knee and produced a fairly impressive diamond ring from the inside pocket of his jacket.

"No pressure or anything, love, but will you do me the highest honor of joining me in matrimony and being my wife?"

She was tearing, stunned with her mouth agape, and Stefan knew that it was going to be one hell of an article to write; Atticus would have to give him the front page for sure. His only regret was that he hadn't brought along a camera with him, but as he caught sight of Rebekah and Katherine, both wearing identical smiles, one recording a video while the other snapping photos, he knew that he wouldn't have any trouble acquiring the materials he needed.

"Yes, yes, of course."

Klaus canted his head to one side. "Are you sure? Because you won't be able to take it back after you've agreed to this—"

There was a quick roll of cornflower blue eyes, and then she was grabbing him by the sides of his face and kissing him for all that she was worth. Applause and cheers erupted all around them, and as the throng of people closed in on the happy couple to offer their congratulations and well wishes, Stefan caught the last glimpses of Klaus Mikaelson sliding the ring on Caroline Forbes' finger.

"I always knew that my brother was a sap, a right old teddy bear, but I hope you would at least make him sound a bit more masculine in your story."

He turned his face up at Rebekah as she smirked down at him.

Everybody told me love was blind
Then I saw your face and you blew my mind
Finally, you and me are the lucky ones this time

"Well, I can only write based on what I know," he replied. "Unless you'd like to share more about your brother's love life, to which case, I'm most willing to listen to."

She pretended to ponder over his offer. "How about no, but maybe I'll agree if you ask me out on a date instead."

"How about tomorrow? I'll pick you up at six?"

"You better not take me to a chippy."

A/N: The end! This had been so much fun to write, particularly because it wasn't entirely too emotional, and it's just a simple piece with no complications, nothing too serious, and it's just something I enjoyed indulging in.

Song used: "Lucky Ones" by Lana Del Rey

P.S. riggernule96: I'm impressed you can read 15,888 words in 9 minutes before posting that review.

Update: A big thanks to Joanna Jacobs who left me a review and kindly informed me that I've doubled up on Alaric's character. LOL! Whoops! So, I've switched Stefan's editor to be Atticus Shane. Again, thank you for the note!