A/N: welcome back to this ridiculous horseplay! it will probably sabotage me with feelings later on, but we're keeping it light and breezy for now, yes?

but omgosh, thank you for all your positive responses, i was thrilled to find out you also like absurd scenarios! (thx to the lovely anons as well, u made me laugh!) i hope you enjoy this comedy of manners! also, the timeline on this fic is wonky at best, so just go with it! let me know if it's still funny! also holla to my sister, Anastasia-G, who is working hard to give us the best marrieds fic on this side of the internet so go read & review "a case of you" *finishes plug* Enjoy!

ii.

Alaric is telling them about some minor battle of attrition that happened 20 miles away from their town. Bonnie has often complained that Mystic Falls is steeped in too much Civil War paraphernalia, and that it just gives lots of slow-minded folks the opportunity to talk about the "good old days". So she tunes out the history lesson and turns to her vampire friend with a more pressing concern.

"Caroline?"

"Mm?"

"How do you flirt?"

The bubbly blonde almost drops the pen she's been fiddling with.

"What?"

Bonnie winces, loath to repeat herself. "How do you, um, flirt? I mean, I think I know the basics, but –"

"Oh my God," Caroline spouts, her eyes as wide and unblinking as a pair of projectors. "The day's finally come. You're asking me for love advice."

"Let's not call it love advice, jeez, I just want to –"

"You know, I was so worried you'd given up on men ever since He who shall not be named."

Bonnie heaves a sigh. "You can call him by his name."

Ever since the cheating incident, Caroline has been endearingly if not obtusely spiteful towards Elena's little brother. She glares at Jeremy in the hallway or blocks his path on the way to the gym. Bonnie's pretty sure it was also her who keyed his car. Of course, she's touched by her friend's loyalty, but she wishes Caroline would stop. This whole guerilla warfare is not helping her move on.

Caroline puckers her lips in distaste. "Well, I hope you're not asking me about flirting for his sake."

"No, I'm not that desperate," Bonnie murmurs, keeping an eye on Alaric who is staring in their general direction, probably eager to ask them about which one of their forefathers shot a cannon. "I'm asking for someone who isn't really into me."

"What? What idiot doesn't like you?" Caroline quickly bristles. "Give me his name."

Bonnie panics. "It's not someone you know, and I want to keep it a secret for now."

"Why? Is he weird? Are you embarrassed or something? We've all had those kinds of crushes, Bon. Remember my Ricky Martin phase? Boy, was I blind."

Bonnie smiles nervously. "Yeah, kind of like that." She is amused by the analogy – picturing Klaus as Ricky Martin in some tight and highly unorthodox leather outfit.

"I just don't want to advertise it for now," she continues, adopting the sad tone of voice she knows will make Caroline back off. It's the "I was cuckolded by a ghost" voice. Works every time.

"Gotcha. My lips are sealed. So what's this guy like? Does he have good hair?"

Bonnie mulls on it for a second. "No, I mean I don't know – it's curly? But not curly?"

"You like him, but you never noticed his hair?" Caroline asks, incredulous.

"I don't care about his hair," Bonnie mutters, picking up her pen and scribbling busily as Alaric passes by their desks, eyebrow raised.

"Fiiine. So, is he a jock, a goth, a nerd, a theater geek?"

Bonnie is stumped again. She doesn't know much about Klaus except that he's evil and enjoys killing and maiming. Hmm…he has a family, but he isn't overly fond of them. In fact, he treats them like enemies. He likes to drink blood and party with Stefan. He likes making hybrids. He likes power. Maybe he owns a yacht. Where he brings supermodels? Okay, she's starting to describe Leonardo DiCaprio.

"He's…hard to describe."

Caroline lifts a suspicious eyebrow. "Like a John Doe, or what?"

"He's older," Bonnie blurts out, as if that would somehow explain everything. It's not a lie, really.

Caroline opens her mouth in shock. "Oh – my – God –"

"Ms. Forbes, Ms. Bennett, perhaps you'd like to share some family history with us," Alaric interrupts their quintessential teenage talk, and for once, Bonnie is grateful.

"How much older?"

Caroline follows her like a shadow to the lockers. Bonnie is beginning to regret this whole 'ask for advice' strategy.

"Significantly," Bonnie mutters. "But not like in a creepy way."

"You mean he's already out of college?"

She realizes Caroline is getting inordinately excited. This whole thing whiffs of scandal and afterschool special and it's too much for her to resist.

"Umm, roughly."

Did Klaus ever go to college? It's likely. Even the most hopeless idiot could manage to graduate in one thousand years. Plus, he always talks like he's just come from a Shakespeare play, so there has to be some kind of education behind that.

"Look, are you going to help me or what? I really need some tips with this guy and I know you're the expert."

Caroline rolls her eyes, happily accepting the compliment, though she remains a little skeptical. "You've never had a thing for older guys."

"Well, since the younger ones didn't do me any good…" Bonnie trails off with meaning, and boom, Caroline is once again caught off-guard by the Jeremy incident.

After all this is over and she recovers from the disappointment, Bonnie is going to have to actually thank him.

"Okay, let's reconvene at my house and we'll talk hair flips and mini-skirts."

Bonnie exhales in relief. She really needs some confidence bolstering if she's going to seduce the Original Hybrid.

"Wait. Did you say mini-skirts?"

Bonnie's never considered her legs before. It's not a topic she dwells on every day. She likes them fine and they're definitely in good shape thanks to cheer practice, but they rarely cause her to stop in the middle of the street and think about her body image.

In Caroline's borrowed mini-skirt, however, her legs become a hotly debated issue. Are they too long, too short, too bulky, too skinny? Can anyone tell she's not a very uniform shaver?

The problem is, the skirt is too mini and she's not comfortable exposing so much skin. Why did she agree to this?

Oh, right, fate of mankind.

She texted Tyler earlier who confirmed Klaus was at the Grill, enjoying a drink with his hybrids. When he asked her why she wanted to know, Bonnie dodged the question by asking one of her own.

B: Will you be there?

T: No, he sent me on an errand.

Bonnie was relieved. She didn't want her public humiliation to be public to him too. A bar full of familiar patrons was enough.

So now she's making her unsteady way to the Grill, dressed like she's going to a strip club, on the off-chance that Klaus will overlook her enmity and…find her hot?

God, what a mess.

She pushes the heavy door open and glances around the poorly lit establishment for a hint of Haughty Hybrid. She's pretty wobbly on her high heels. Maybe no one will notice her limp. Maybe Klaus likes his women to be vertically challenged.

She spots him after a few more tries.

Luck's on her side. While his hybrids hold court all around him, he's sitting alone at a table with a lager. A lager?

That's odd, him and beer. She would've thought he was an obnoxious Cabernet kind of guy.

He looks in a prime mood for flirting - that is, he's not currently murdering anyone so it'll have to do. She fiddles with the hem of her egregious mini-skirt. You know how when you're wearing a really short item, you keep pulling it down in the hopes that it will magically grow three inches? Bonnie is hoping for that same miracle.

She stumbles towards him, trying to go over her amateurish plan in her head.

Per Caroline's instructions, she's going to slide in the opposite chair and – she winces at the thought– sweet-talk him really fast, thus minimizing the chances of him telling her off. At least in the first twenty seconds.

You've got nothing to lose. If he doesn't talk back, he's the one being rude. If he does, you have your way in, Caroline told her sagely.

The problem is she has really bad stage fright, and that usually results in some mishap or another. She remembers getting a minimal part in Our Town back in the day and fobbing it so bad she was forbidden from re-joining the drama club.

But this isn't just acting, it's a heroic sacrifice. She's good at those.

She mutters the scripted dialogue Caroline made her practice in the mirror.

Hey, handsome. What are you up to right now? Nothing? Okay, then how about you buy me a drink? I bet you'd like to drink me up, ha ha.

Obviously, this little ditty won't work like it would on a regular guy. For one thing, that last part reads too literal for comfort. But maybe he'll think it's a clever joke. Well, he didn't appreciate her joke over the phone, but that was misguided. She's wearing a mini-skirt now. It has to make a difference.

The moment is coming closer as she's nearing his table. Her lines become a kind of crazy mantra in her head.

Hey, handsome. What are you up to right now? Hey, handsome. What are you up to right now?

She finds she's got a stone the size of a tractor lodged in her throat and, no matter how many times she swallows it's stubbornly trapped in her esophagus.

Just say it, come on. It's not that hard. Hey, handsome. Hey, handsome.

Bonnie glides in the empty seat, losing her footing halfway through. "Hey, hand job."

Oh, no. Oh, no.

Her lips part in a helpless gesture of horror as Klaus Mikaelson turns his full figure on her and glares down with the decibel power of a hundred suns.

"What did you call me?"

Bonnie flounders like a trapeze acrobat that made a daring jump and landed on her ass. How could she mess up one word?

"Sorry, I meant to say handso–"

There's no time. He has sent the small table crashing into one of the walls. Several patrons around them have risen in alarm. His hybrids are already moving towards her.

It's really not what she'd hoped.

Bonnie raises her arms creating a quick shield around her. She's very tempted to attack him, but she knows this will have the effect of alienating him even further.

"Hand job?" Klaus rages, almost apoplectic. "You will regret setting foot in this tavern, witch!"

Under different circumstances, this whole thing would be pretty amusing, but no one's laughing, least of all her.

"Listen, I didn't mean to say that!"

The hybrids have formed a threatening circle around her.

Klaus' nostrils flare. "No, I suppose you had some other profanities in mind. Your lot is all the same, an assortment of vulgar dolts who can barely spell their name properly–"

And perhaps the diatribe would go on longer, if Bonnie did not put a stop to it.

"I mean to say HANDSOME!" she screams, far too loud for their venue, silencing the whole audience at the Grill, Klaus included.

"I – I meant to say you're handsome," she repeats, a degree quieter, wishing she could turn into Sue Storm, the invisible Fantastic.

The Original pauses, like an angry fish caught in a net. His face could compete with Madame Tussauds' wax figures. He's somehow gone both pale and dark. He advances towards her in a strut she would classify as deadly.

"What trickery is this? Are you mocking me again?"

Bonnie lowers her hands. If she's going to embark on this fool's errand, she's going to have to lower her defenses. He won't outright kill her, will he? Not like this.

She swallows. "No, I really just think you're – handsome."

Klaus stops before her, gracing her with a suspicious glower. "I thought your kind couldn't be compelled."

She smiles nervously. "Why would anyone compel me to say that?"

"Oh, I don't know," he sneers. "We're currently about to do battle and you tried to set me on fire not two months past."

Bonnie titters unconvincingly. What else did Caroline say? When in doubt, deflect. Take a lock of your hair and twirl it around your finger and change the subject.

She fiddles with her hair. "Those things don't have to be mutually exclusive."

"Excuse me?" he drawls, his brow jutting forward heavily. "I should be mollified you almost killed me because you find me aesthetically pleasing?"

Bonnie gulps. "I'm just paying you a compliment."

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me. You are still on my list of people whose heads I will put on a spike. And you are slowly climbing up the ranks, my dear."

He called me 'my dear'? That's a good thing? But – head on spike. Ouch.

She tries not to shiver. His gaze is far too earnest. Change the subject. Change the subject. "How about you buy me a drink?"

Klaus' eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. "You come in here, insult me, and expect libation?"

Bonnie scratches her arm. "I'm okay with a soda."

"The only drink you will get from me, witch, is valerian nectar."

"Valerian, ha ha."

"It's poisonous to witches," he elaborates, two faint red spots appearing on his cheeks.

"Yeah, I know. You're funny." The word makes her gag, but she plasters a big grin on her lips and sells it for her dear life. She used to be a cheerleader, after all.

"Yes…that's me, joke machine," he scowls like a royal who has been forced to converse with a peasant.

At this point, his hybrids are looking at him for guidance. They are utterly confused. As is the whole bar. Is it gonna be a fight or not?

Bonnie looks around nervously. "Maybe we should sit and talk."

"I am not –"

"Please?"

Klaus couldn't give a fig about what the patrons think of him since he can compel them at the drop of a hat – and probably has – but he seems like the kind of person who feeds off on dramatics. And this is highly anticlimactic.

He points to a table grudgingly. "Sit. Talk."

"How do you know valerian nectar is poisonous to witches?"

It's the first thing that comes to mind. She knows she should change the subject, as Caroline advised, but she's genuinely curious. And they've been sitting in silence for two minutes now, taking part in the world's most awkward glaring contest.

Klaus sneers. "Please, I practically patented the formula."

He notices her arched frown, and his sneer intensifies. It really is a battle of who can mug better for the camera.

"Oh, don't look so saintly. You wouldn't hesitate to poison me."

"I guess not," she admits warily. Denying that would be a bit silly, given the circumstances. "But potion-making is difficult for non-magical-"

"And?" he cuts her short. "Are you implying I am not up to the task?"

She groans internally. Already she's managed to insult him twice in the span of minutes.

"I'm just surprised," she mutters, looking down.

"We all do our best to know our enemies, don't we? Isn't this what you're here for? It's obviously a reconnaissance mission."

"A what?"

Klaus rolls his eyes like a prima-donna. "What do they teach in those schools? You're trying to find out more about me. You've come here under the guise of –" he waves his arm, "–whatever this is so you can discover ways to defeat me."

Bonnie wrings her hands in her lap. "That's crazy talk. I'm just here for a drink, same as you. I saw you sitting alone and…I don't know…I thought it wouldn't hurt to say hello."

Klaus narrows his eyes. "Who put you up to this? Was it Stefan? Is he that unimaginative?"

"No one put me up –"

"Oh, so it's your initiative, is it? You realized fires and torture won't work on me? So now you're attempting flattery?"

Bonnie feels a blush coming on. "I just think we should put our differences aside."

"Why?"

"Because it's getting us nowhere."

Klaus scoffs. "I beg to differ. I believe our grudge is quite beneficial. I've always wanted to be the one who ends the Bennett line."

"But wouldn't it be better if we were friends?" she insists desperately.

"Friends? Whatever for? That won't save you from certain death."

Bonnie is just about done with his stupid threats.

"Ugh, no wonder you don't have any. Friends, that is."

Klaus almost issues a growl. "If this is your great strategy to befriend me –"

"It's why you make so many hybrids, isn't it? Because you're actually lonely," she rambles, unconcerned with his anger. "You're trying to force people to be your friends. But here I am, offering my genuine –"

"Nothing about you is genuine," he snaps, eyes turning into liquid amber. "Now unless you want to test the strength of my fangs, you will be gone."

If this were any other confrontation, Bonnie would throw him across the room and walk away. But it's not. It's really not.

She heaves a weary sigh and mentally runs through her seductress script. What was that line about drinks? The one too close for comfort?

"Really? I –I bet you'd like to drink me up."

She can't really qualify the look on his face. It's a mixture of sea-sickness and a deep, puzzling confusion.

"What?"

"With – with your strong fangs," she elaborates, twirling her hair like a mad seamstress.

"You have gone barking mad."

"Or maybe you just want to taste…me," she stutters pathetically. Why? Why would she follow up on it? She's going to kill Caroline. She's going to invoke the spirits and kill them too.

Klaus pinches the bridge of his nose. "I rather liked it better when you were pitching fire at me."

Bonnie winces internally. Who is she kidding? She's so awful at this, she's never going to get in his pants. She'd probably barf on his briefs if she ever got that far. She might as well resign and let Klaus take over the world.

"Okay. I – I gotta go. Forget I was here."

And she gets up, failing to remember, of course, that she's wearing the world's highest heels.

Ha.

The floor is about to meet her face in a great game of whack-a-mole when a hand grips her waist and stops gravity from doing its worst.

Bonnie whirls in his arms, still unsteady on her feet, clinging to his shirt. She's staring up at a very disgruntled Klaus.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" he asks, one arm still wrapped around her waist. But wait - this is good. He's actually touching her. I mean, if she could manage to unzip his jeans, she'd have won half the battle. But she has a feeling he wouldn't be up for it. Just a feeling.

Bonnie points down to her heels. "It's these damn shoes."

Klaus surveys her whole Pretty Woman get-up. "Is this ridiculously short garment for my benefit?"

"No," she says too quickly, wanting to pull away from his arms but also knowing she'll probably fall on her butt if she does. He's gripping her none too kindly. More the way you'd hold a pet by the neck to teach them a lesson. She registers he smells like some spicy forest cologne, or maybe that's his natural scent? Ew. No, she shouldn't be focusing on scents right now.

He's getting suspicious. She has to say something.

"It's for someone else. Another guy," she adds lamely. "I have to go meet him now, actually."

She bends down, unstrapping her heels. And then she whisks off, bare-footed, across the length of the bar like a drunken fool.

She doesn't catch his look of total "what the fuck" as she storms out of the Grill.

But she has this hunch that maybe she didn't make a very good impression. Just a hunch.

"Do I still have to do this?" Bonnie whispers as she holds Miss Cuddles to her chest. Her swollen feet are soaking up in warm water.

Miss Cuddles regards her sagely. The stuffed bear must be possessed with some kind of divine wisdom, she's certain of it. She's just choosing not to impart it at the moment.

She heaves a sigh and reaches for her phone. She taps quickly, afraid she'll chicken out if she stops.

Enjoyed seeing you today. xx.

She waits on tenterhooks for Klaus' answer. It comes several minutes after.

K: What is xx?

B: Nothing. Nevermind. Thank you for not letting me fall.

K: What a stupid thing to thank me for. I will do much worse next time.

B: Next time? Is that a date?

She's really reaching here, but beggars can't be choosers.

K: No. It's a death threat. All of this is a death threat. I hope I made myself clear.

B: There's a thin line

- but she stops. She can't actually type "there's a thin line between love and hate" because it's so corny she might actually make Klaus happy and die.

Except, shit, shit, she's hit enter. What. No.

K: Thin line?

B: Under your eye. I noticed a thin line. A scar?

K: What are you going on about?

She's breaking a bigger sweat than when she had to take her mock-SATs.

B: No, you're right, it was just a shadow.

K: Goodbye.

B: See you around!

K: No.

B: Well, inevitably around town.

K: I will not.

B: You can't not physically see me.

K: I will do my best. Goodbye.

Bonnie stared at Miss Cuddles, still lying quaintly in her lap. "Well, you were no help."