Notes: Hello! This thing started out as a request (of sorts) from Angelikah (aka thetourguidebarbie), our lovely Klaroline Smut Fairy. There was a teeny reference to roleplaying in the last chapter of Growing Up Beside You and she asked (and bribed!) me to write it. It got long, so I decided to tuck it into it's own series, which I honestly considered naming "Klaus and Caroline Dabble in Kink" before settling on this title (taken from the Salt N Pepa masterpiece, "Let's Talk About Sex"). It has ZERO plot. This is pure, shameless smutty smut smut (seriously, it's named 'Smutstravaganza' in my Docs), with just a dash of set up. It will work like Makes Some Noise does with super random updates depending on inspiration. I broke up the first part into 3 chapters, for easier digestion, so skip to chapter 3 if you're only here for naked fun times! This story completely ignores The Originals. And Kol's alive, just because. Additional thanks to cupcakemolotov, justanotherfiveminutes and cutasahybridpuppy for the pre-reads/idea bouncing/hand holding about smut writing. And also soapmaniac22 (she-walked-away) for the smutspiration GIF's.
All The Good Things
Prologue
When Caroline Forbes shows up in The French Quarter, Klaus' life it has gotten predictable, nearly mundane.
New Orleans had been conquered long ago, with a few casualties, but no one he particularly cared for. The bloodshed had been minimal when held up against various battles of the past, easily swept under the rug, and a tentative peace between the vampires, witches, and werewolves, that called the city home, had been established.
No supernatural utopia sprang up overnight, however. Petty squabbles cropped up regularly in the early days, the odd crime had to be dealt with, punishments meted out. But, gradually, things had calmed and, after over a decade, New Orleans ran itself like a well-oiled machine. Klaus' siblings were around, and happy enough. The days and nights had fallen into a pattern, almost without Klaus even noticing.
And then, on an inauspicious Thursday, he's at Rousseau's, half listening to the band, half listening to Rebekah complain about the new bartender, when he happens to glance at the door.
Be it luck, or some kind of sixth sense, Klaus is treated to the perfect view of Caroline Forbes, walking into the bar. Klaus hasn't heard a peep from Caroline since they'd parted in the woods behind the Salvatore Boarding House, and he would be lying if he were to claim not to be floored by her surprise arrival.
He stands abruptly, much to the shock of those sharing his table. They follow his line of sight and react in varying ways. Marcel's confused, wondering aloud if the blonde's a threat. Kol's gleeful, Rebekah put out, once they realize just who's caught Klaus' attention.
Klaus ignores the lot of them.
Until, of course, his siblings make to go downstairs, likely to pester Caroline. Klaus is forced to fight to be the first to speak with her (Kol ends up in a heap on the floor of the bar with his spine oddly bent in several places to ensure slower healing). Klaus cuts Rebekah off by leaping over the second floor railing (she'd not have risked it, the danger to the ridiculous shoes she'd been wearing too great) and then sidling up to Caroline, who was at the bar, patiently waiting to be served.
She tenses as he approaches, without glancing his way. Klaus notes that, pleased that she'd recognized him with her other senses, despite how long it had been since they'd interacted. It only took one menacing look and the bloke who'd been on the stool next to Caroline had been on his way. Smart of him, as he'd been ogling Caroline in a most ungentlemanly way, his hasty exit the only thing that saved him from having a vital organ or two removed.
Klaus settles on the vacated stool and waits for Caroline to acknowledge him.
She's stubborn about it, of course. But, taking a deep breath, tucking her chin to her shoulder, and shooting him a narrow-eyed look, she finally favors him with her attention.
And it's just like old times.
Klaus smiles, unable to help his pleasure at the sight of her, at being able to feel the warmth of her, not more than fifteen centimeters from him, "Fancy meeting you here, love," he greets jovially.
"You know," Caroline replies, managing to sound long suffering, "I half expected a Casablanca quote. Props for being slightly less predictable than I'd imagined."
A few people nearby, vampires who knew not to cross him, begin to edge away. Such impertinence, from someone other than those Klaus considered family, was known to be dangerous. Those who heard it were likely expecting a pretty blonde head to roll.
But Klaus merely laughs, "It would've been more than appropriate, don't you think?"
Caroline turns to face him with a sigh, leaning against the counter, "There are a lot of bars in New Orleans, Klaus. I didn't know this one was yours. Your lackey just told me a lot of vampires hang out here. Sometimes it's hard to get a drink when you're forever seventeen and it's been a long day. I didn't feel like getting the third degree about my I.D."
Klaus' lets his eyes travel over her, taking in the slightly wrinkled dress and sensible flats, the blazer thrown over her arm. There were little wisps of hair curling about her temples, escaping from a less than neat ponytail. He's just about to ask her what she's been doing, why she's here, his hopes that she' in New Orleans for him having been unceremoniously dashed. Before Klaus can start with questions he senses someone coming closer. He's just about to bark a warning to leave, perhaps a threat or two, at the intruder. But it's Marcel, so Klaus manages to rein his temper in, though he lets his expression indicate that he's less than thrilled at the interruption. Marcel takes no notice, grinning past Klaus at Caroline, like she's an old friend, "Caroline Forbes, I see you took my advice! How are you settling into The Big Easy?"
Caroline smiles back, friendly, but Klaus cuts off her answer, "Why was I not informed of her arrival, Marcellus?" he demands.
"You were," Marcel replies slowly, taken aback, "At our meeting last week? I mentioned the month's new arrivals like I always do. Two male vampires from Las Vegas and a female from Philadelphia? Ring any bells?"
It did, vaguely. But he'd have remembered a Caroline. "You neglected to mention their names."
"Because I never mention their names. Because you don't care about their names, unless they screw up and need to be dealt with."
Technically accurate. Klaus prefers to deal with the big picture and leave the minutia to others.
Caroline's watching the back and forth between him and Marcel worriedly, "It's not his fault, Klaus," she insists. "I didn't tell him I knew you."
Understanding dawns on Marcel's face, "Oh, she's that Caroline? From Mystic Falls?" A slow grin spreads across the other man's face and his eyes alight on Caroline with a new interest.
Klaus has never mentioned any details about acquaintances he'd made in Mystic Falls. But, certain others, are less circumspect. Klaus' eyes find Rebekah, on the balcony, shamelessly eavesdropping. She has the gall to smirk at him and toss her hair.
"Um, I guess so?" Caroline replies, looking mystified, "But if Rebekah's been talking about me you probably shouldn't believe a word she said. She's really not a fan."
"Understatement!" Rebekah calls down.
"Despite the fact that she went full single white female when she first met me."
"Don't worry. I'm very familiar with Rebekah's tendency to exaggerate," Marcel says, smile in place despite the offended huff they can all hear Rebekah make.
Klaus, not at all in the mood to watch Marcel attempt to be charming, speaks again before his friend can, "Yes, she's that Caroline. And I do believe we have some catching up to do, so if you wouldn't mind?" It's less than subtle of him, but Marcel mercifully takes the hint, instead of choosing to bait Klaus further.
Marcel grabs Caroline's hand, presses a kiss to her knuckles, just to be aggravating, Klaus is quite sure. "It was lovely to see you again, Caroline," Marcel murmur, "I'll be around it you need any help settling in." Marcel offers Klaus a nod, a smirk beginning to form on his face, before retreating.
"Friend of yours?" Caroline inquires.
"Sometimes," Klaus replies.
The bartender finally makes his way down to them. He places a glass of bourbon in front of Klaus before turning to Caroline, "And for the lady?"
"Actually," Klaus says before draining the glass, "if the lady is amenable I think we'll go elsewhere. What do you say, sweetheart?"
Caroline bites her lip, indecisiveness evident, but then takes the arm Klaus offers, "Alright fine. But only because I'm sure you keep better booze at your place."
That was a given. Klaus leads her out of the bar, keeps her close as they join the crowds on the street, and walks her to his home.
He keeps things light, while he gauges her mood. Tells stories of the city, lets her wander around his house and ask questions about the paintings. They share a bottle of champagne (she'd scoffed but Klaus had not missed the hint of a smile when he'd produced it) and by the time it's half-done they're sprawled on the floor of his studio, Caroline having deemed the chairs in it unacceptable. Caroline opens up, just a little, her voice soft, and she finally tells him why she'd come to New Orleans.
"I'm just so tired of starting over," Caroline says. She explains that she's done it twice in the last decade and figured that if she did it in a city like New Orleans, where citizens were accustomed to overlooking a little thing like people failing to age naturally, that maybe a new life could stick a little longer. She's enrolled at Tulane, for a third degree, has an apartment and a job at a hotel.
Klaus listens, he asks questions about the classes she's planning on taking, and how she likes her job. He doesn't ask why she'd not sought him out, and she doesn't offer an explanation. It grows late, then later still, and Caroline says she really should be getting home, though she makes no move to gather her things.
But Klaus stands, offers her a hand and tugs her up too. Caroline's in New Orleans, far earlier than he'd ever have expected, and he knows that rushing things will not work out in his favor. So he walks her home, makes a mental note to look into who owns her building, and possibly compel them into several security upgrades. He invites her to lunch, the day after tomorrow, and Caroline accepts with hardly a whisper of hesitation. Klaus presses a kiss to her cheek and bids her goodnight.
Once home, he ignores Kol's indignant complaining (a broken neck was better than a dagger, was it not?) and innuendos, retiring to his studio. Caroline had left her jacket behind, on the arm of one of the chairs she'd complained about. Sitting down on it, Klaus has to admit she had a point. It really was dreadfully cramped.
But Klaus ignores the discomfort, his mind having turned to more pressing matters, wandering back over the turn his day had taken. Caroline showing up was a boon and Klaus resolves that he won't squander it, as he begins to make plans.