Written in a pinch because I miss Klaroline.

It's a predictably chilly November afternoon when Caroline Forbes - dressed in jeans and thigh high boots - marched her way down UVA's campus for a coffee. It wasn't in her nature to be so aggressive when it came to getting her caffeine fix but there was a hot new employee working at Para who supposedly has black hair, a smart mouth and was Italian.

Totally Caroline's type.

Maneuvering her way around the random bundles of gold and orange, Caroline felt quite content in spite of the midterm hell every student was currently facing. In fact, she could've call her morning a peaceful one had a shining white Rolls Royce not come speeding her way, nearly knocking Caroline (and her brand new Fendi) askew on the concrete sidewalk.

"Ugh, what the fuck?" she snarled under her breath, barely coming to when the Rolls jerked to a stop, cleanly parking on the empty road with a crisp flourish. "Don't tell me it's another trust fund baby who just got his license." Caroline muttered, discreetly double checking her beautiful Peekaboo Micro Satchel and - ensured that it was still intact - turned on her heel, ready to double her espresso shot from zero to two.

"Excuse me - sweetheart?" a lilting, accented, very British voice called out from behind her, causing Caroline to nearly stumble over in frustration and curiosity. The temptation to turn around for a precursory glance was strong but...

There was a hot Italian waiter waiting for her fifteen minutes down the road and Caroline had no time for assholes today.

"It's Caroline and I'm fine so you can keep the apologies to yourself and cut down on the James Hunt driving." she returns without even bothering to turn around. Does she sound like a bitch? Sure. But did she ask to be nearly run over on a sidewalk this Wednesday afternoon? Nope.

"Sweetheart, slow down. I doubt Para is going to consider your order if you can't pay for it."

Caroline immediately stops and without thinking, reaches into her Fendi to feel everything save her wallet.

Damn.

Spinning around, Caroline's ready to say something snarky and probably far too acerbic for 2 PM when she's greeted by mirthful cobalt eyes and a dimpled smirk.

Oh…fuck.

This one wasn't just hot. He was downright sexy - in the most x-rated sense.

"Thanks." Caroline reigns in her shock for a mask of nonchalance as she walks over to the Brit, bemoaning his towering - and somewhat imposing - six foot two height.

She gritted her teeth while plastering a sarcastic smile on her lips.

"Nice to know you don't go around stealing women's wallets after nearly running them over."

His smirk deepens. "You'll have to wait another month for that atrocity to occur, sweetheart. November's a month to give thanks after all."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, then, thank us Americans for the holidays as well as for dumping your tea in the harbor."

"Oh, striking history in the face I see!" he counters, voice full of mock surprise. "I'm going to say in spite of your historical analysis you are not a history major."

"Hm - partial credit." Caroline offers with a small smile. "I'm an art history major." she finally relents, "took me a good year to finally decide between that and managerial accounting." she gives a faux shrug of dissolution. "Such a thrilling subject."

He chuckles at her dry tone of voice and Caroline finds herself relaxing at the sound of his laughter. It reminds her of rich bourbon and the decadent colors of autumn.

Blue blooded since birth.

"Forgive me for the subpar conclusion then," he offers. "My sister is a student here and she is a bit like you in some regard. I assumed you'd take after her and integrate yourself in the interior design arena."

Caroline scoffs. "Please. Just because I'm blonde doesn't mean I'm automatically going to go all Blue Jasmine on you in ten years." she pauses for a second. "Wait, you do know that movie right? Because this would be a really awkward conversation if you didn't get the film reference and now think I'm a permanent nutcase." she offers, that neurotic edge she's never quite managed to shed rearing its ugly head again.

In spite of it, the blonde man laughs again - this time it's easier, more at ease than his wry chuckle. "A Woody Allen picture is one of the few to retain comical wit without disintegrating into vulgar japes about sex or starlets."

"Never took you for a 'woman's picture' kind of guy."

"Well I never discerned you for an aspiring art curator either."

Caroline's cheeks flush though she quickly pins that fault to the chilly November wind. "What can I say? Art can transcend time while everything else just...dies."

The man quirks a brow. "I do believe the term your looking for is obsolete."

"Yeah, but if you point that out to a girl it kind of makes you sound like an asshole."

"Oh does it?" he puts forth Caroline's wallet. "I suppose if I were to fit under that derogatory term then I would, of course, claim this fine leather Prada as my own and leave you to stand here. Good day."

"Wait - what?" Caroline blinks before she realizes that Hot Blonde Man was now walking away. Without thinking, Caroline lunged forward, latching onto the arm of his black coat, the rich cashmere shooting a tingle up her fingertips as she managed to jog up behind him.

He turns, wry smirk all too cocky on his handsome face. "What's wrong now, sweetheart? Finding yourself grieving over the insult you've dealt me?" he taunts, causing Caroline to wish she had a broom in hand so she could whack this blonde Shakespeare right in the face.

"Not a chance." she rolls her eyes. "Gimme back my wallet. This is a total felony and I could take legal action against you." she warns, holding out her hand expectantly but received nothing save his intense cobalt stare. "Hey - "

"I have a childish equine rebuttal for that term but I won't use it now." he easily side steps Caroline, giving her a small smile. "I'll tell you what, sweetheart: you can have the wallet back if, in exchange for your rudeness, I get your phone number."

"My rudeness?" Caroline gawks, too amazed by this man's arrogance to register anything else. "You're the one who nearly ran me over in the first place! In fact, you started this whole chain of events!"

"Then allow me to apologize by getting your number and formally asking you to dinner sometime this week."

"What? No!"

Brits. Always so fucking smooth.

"Well the French are also quite well versed in coquettish behavior but not nearly as gallant as we Englishmen are." he smirked, causing Caroline to realize she'd blurted her unfiltered thoughts aloud.

Right as another argument fell onto the tip of her tongue, Caroline felt her phone vibrate in her bag. "Ugh - hold on." she instructed the wallet snatching asshole while she fished out her iPhone, sliding it open for Rebekah's frantic voice to come through on the other line. "Hey - yeah, no - calm down! Yeah, I'm coming. I just…I got held up by some wallet snatcher and - what? Who? And….he is…oh." Caroline's eyes trailed up the Englishman's form. Tall, dressed in black Armani with golden curls, blue eyes, and dimples. "And when was he supposed to come visit you?"

"Today! Right now! Nik's always being such an arse - showing up late whenever he can." Rebekah pouted.

"…huh. Bekah, I'm going to have to call you back." Caroline blinked, hanging up amid Rebekah's protests as she took a nice long look at (presumably) Mr. Nik Mikaelson. "Are you Rebekah's asshole older brother who she claims to hate but really loves more than anything?"

"That would require you to answer the question of are you Caroline Forbes, my sister's roommate who claims you can never keep anything sorted for more than two weeks?" he returns tauntingly, brazen as ever.

Caroline's jaw dropped open at the insult. How dare he! He didn't even know her! She was Caroline Forbes - everything she did had an orderly process and if something just happened to be bent out of shape, then it was purposely tussled up for aesthetic purposes. That was that.

"Well…you drive like a dandy!" she returned after a pause, glaring at the long neglected Rolls Royce.

"Was that meant to be an insult?" he inquired, looking as if he were trying to hold back laughter as Caroline huffed. "Tell you what, sweetheart, it appears as if we have both been wronged by the road - "

" - the road?" Caroline sputtered, finally realizing what Rebekah meant when she called her brother an "arrogant bastard".

"And I believe it is necessary for the two of us to join together in overcoming the difficulties posed by poor street services here at UVA." he continued, undeterred by Caroline's interruption. "As a result, I offer you my credit card's services as well as the pleasure of my company for an evening affair anytime this week. Choice of venue, of course, will be mine to hold." Klaus added.

"Can I just take the former half of that offer and leave out the whole 'pleasure of your company' part?" she inquired sweetly, delphinium eyes wide with innocence as Klaus gave a rather splendid shake of the head.

"Afraid not, sweetheart. It's a package deal - much like commercial airlines."

She scoffed. "You'll have to forgive us commoners for not having a private jet." Caroline returned, fully prepared to leave for her overdue coffee before the movie queen of all movie queen ideas hit her.

You're in for it now...

"Klaus…" Caroline took a step towards him, smile golden, as Klaus's whole form stiffened, guard up. "I," she beamed, "have a wonderful proposition for you."

"Is that right?" he eyed her curiously and Caroline was positive she detected a hint of endearment in his lolling tone.

"If you can plan an evening that surpasses the Pretty Woman date scene to the opera, I will personally show you some of that famous southern hospitality we are so renowned for and I will also," Caroline grins, "let you off the hook with Rebekah. So." she put one hand on her hip, form akimbo as she smiled. "What do you say?"

The sudden change of his countenance was quick enough to give any woman whiplash. The coolly appraising eyes had turned feral, the smirk on his lips bled red and the warning bells in Caroline's head were finally going off.

He looked like he wanted to devour her.

Maybe she'd gotten in a little over her head. After all, if the sordid tales about Klaus's sybaritic lifestyle by Bekah wasn't a big fat warning sign already, his sudden wolf-like disposition certainly was.

Caroline chuckled nervously. Time to backtrack.

"Um, actually Klaus - "

"Deal."

Oh, shit.

A/N: I don't even know what this is. But I hope you enjoyed it.

And general question: anyone want me to start a drabble series? I could probably encapsulate sequels for my other stories within it.

Review, please!