Anonymous asked: klaroline 227. "Is that what you call an apology?" - Klaus
Thank you!
227: "Is that what you call an apology?" + Klaroline
"Is that what you call an apology?" demanded Klaus, following her up the stairs.
"No, it's what I call an acknowledgment." Caroline trotted along the hall, headed for her office. Klaus made sure to follow hot on her heels.
They arrived at her office, a spacious thing built of redwood and pine with thick, green carpet and a fireplace to one side. Klaus followed her in, shutting the door firmly and proceeding to pace the length of the room in front of her as she perched on the edge of her desk, clipboard still in hand.
"Love, you have to know that you can't just–just–"
"What? Make decisions for my family? Klaus, I'm not bringing my kids to New Orleans. It's not happening."
"I swore I'd protect them–"
"Your promise doesn't mean a lot when we're going to the one place that has endangered you the most. You really want me to give you a list of everything bad that's happened to your family there?"
Klaus felt his blood boiling. "Do you think I'm not aware of every intimate detail of that list to start with? They're my family, Caroline."
"Correction: our family," said Caroline, raising her left hand. The engagement ring he'd slipped on it not a week prior sparkled, and he had to fight to not let it distract him from the matter at hand.
"If they're our family, why are you making all the decisions?"
Caroline sighed, setting her clipboard aside. She hunched forward a little, smoothing her hands down her sides. "Klaus," she began, carefully. "I know you want to show me your city. And I want to see it. But I can't relax if my kids are there. They're only 7; I'm not bringing them into a city that's spent more time at war than it has at peace. I'm sorry, but I can't budge on that. I won't."
Klaus made a conscious effort to calm himself, walking over to sit in the armchair by the window. "I wanted to pledge myself to you in the city that I built," he said, voice tight. "In the city that I made, the city that made me. I wanted to swear to always love you in the one place that I have always returned to, and always will return to."
Pushing off from the desk, Caroline walked over, sitting on the floor in front of his chair. She leant back on her haunches, a mimicry of his proposal a week earlier.
Resting a hand on his knee, she said, "New Orleans didn't make you. Marcel did. Hope did. Elijah did. They did that in New Orleans, but they can travel. And wherever we do this, they'll be there, too." She linked the hands together, looking up at him with shining eyes.
Klaus huffed, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. "I know you're right," he said, "but …"
"You need a little more time to be grumpy about it?"
He nodded, trying to bury a smile at the realisation of just how well this woman knew him. This woman that was going to be his wife.
"Well," she said, leaning back and kissing his forehead, "let me know when I get you back. We have lots of planning to do."
Klaus snorted. "Don't pretend you couldn't do it without me."
"Well, yeah." Caroline moved to her feet, keeping their hands linked. "But it's not as fun."
He placed a kiss on her hands, then released them and stood. "I'll go paint and get the grumping out of my system. Meet you after dinner to start planning?"
She grinned. "Sounds like a plan."
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