So, this is for a lovely person on tumblr who donated who asked for this; "Fluff or smut, tvd universe, mate trope encouraged. No angst or sad endings!" and this is sort of where my mind went. I decided to do a part two to the Dreaming of You drabble requested by Angie though, it can be read on its own.

- Shauna! xo


He's quite sure that he's died and gone to heaven, Caroline heaven, when he hears her voice, her actual voice, for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

Her voice is as soft and as peaceful as it always is.

"Klaus?" He hears and he listens to the gulp that she swallows loudly, listens to the way her voice falters, if only slightly.

His lips widen into a smirk as he listens, imagines her biting her lip, just like that time she had when he'd brought her to the edge over and over again, that day in the woods.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

She sighs loudly and he swears he can practically hear her eyes.

"You're the one who called me," she points out, rather numbly. "What do you want?"

He snorts and this time he's rolling his eyes.

"Caroline," he sighs, his voice filled with so much relief, not that he can help it, he is beyond relieved that she picked up - he half expected her to ignore his call - that he knows she's smiling at the sound of it, not something her unconscious had made up but actually him. "I think we way have a problem, love."

She groans and he laughs.

"And as lovely as it is to hear your voice over the phone," he pauses, "I'm going to need you to be here so would it be possible for you to come here, to New Orleans?"

He waits a beat, his heart hammering in his chest as he awaits her answer.

His tone is soft, polite even, as though he was afraid she'd say no and yesterday, she probably would have denied and screamed till she was blue in the face but today, not so much. In fact, she even thinks that she wants to go to New Orleans.

Full of life and beauty and all that.

"Fine," she sighs and she hears his intake of breath. "Send me the plane over."

That's when he swears his heart stops beating

"What?" He stammers.

His eyes are wide as he manages to grip the phone tighter in his grip before it could fall to the ground.

She rolls her eyes, snorting.

"Like I don't know your crazy rich and if I'm doing you a favour, you might as well let me use your private plane. Don't think I'm flying commercial."

He swears she must hear the smile in his voice (god, even he can feel it stretching across his face) as he answers her, the light chuckle that he leaves behind that has her thighs clenching as she thinks back to the dark laugh he'd pressed against her thigh before his tongue had moved over her clit and she gulps heavily when she hears him talk, the raspy tone of his voice going straight to the ache between her legs and reminding her that she'd been pulled out of her dream before she could tip over the edge.

"As you wish."

The dial tone is the only answer he receives but it doesn't stop from the way his smile widens, from the way his fingers curl around the device in his hands until he settles it down carefully.

There was one thing he knew, however.

Caroline was coming to New Orleans. And he didn't plan on letting her leave until she had a damn good reason to come back.

(And boy, did he plan on being convincing.)

-/-

When she hangs up the phone, she drops it on her bed and she glares at the wall.

"Smug bastard," she mutters, almost under her breath, before she's whizzing around her room, rushing to collect the things she wants because god knows how long she's going to be in New Orleans.

She could only imagine what hell was waiting for her there.

And if she knew Klaus, she had a feeling that the plane would be waiting in next to no time, at all.

(She was right.)

Before she knew it, there was a knock on her door and she'd furrowed her eyebrows to find a man, who couldn't be much older than her, leaning against the wall with an expectant expression on his face.

"Miss Forbes," he greeted, stiffly, and he straightened his posture, slightly. "Mr Mikaelson has sent me to make sure you arrive in New Orleans safely."

Mr Mikaelson?

God he was such an ass. A smug ass.

She merely smiled, gritted her teeth but she noticed the way he tensed as she got too close.

Her and Klaus would be having words about that, too.

Her jaw clenched as she closed the door behind her and spared a smile to the man who seemed to have fear radiating from him.

"Please," she gave him her best Miss Mystic Falls smile, as she gestured forward. "Lead the way."

A nod was the only reply she got but she did notice the way he seemed to be uncomfortable around her the way he put at least a meter of distance between the two of them until they reached the car.

He was silent the entire way to the airport and she sighed heavily as she was taken into a section she hadn't seen before.

Seems it was going to be quite the long flight.

She could go to sleep, she supposes, but with the way her dreams were going of an alternative universe series of her and Klaus, she supposed that wasn't the best idea. Especially now, since she knew that everything she dreamt of, he also could see.

She wasn't sure which was more mortifying. The fact that he practically knows every kink she's ever had or the idea that he knew that she cared about him, at least to some extent.

Well, he better have a damn good explanation for her when she gets there.

-/-

When she finally lands, the first thing she notices is how warm it is, though she doesn't have much time to dwell on the details before she's taken, a couple of who she refers to as Klaus' minions behind her as Arty (she'd learned his name was, the same guy who'd shown up at her door), led her stiffly through the crowd and into car park.

The second thing she sees is Klaus, with his ankles crossed as he leans against his black SUV.

His head immediately pops up, a grin on his face, as his eyes gleam at her.

"Caroline," he grins, as she walks forward, and she vaguely notes how his hybrids linger a fair distance away, watches as he exchanges a nod with them before his eyes settle back on hers.

"Klaus," she breathes, the word getting stuck in her throat.

He smirks, as if he knows, how much trouble she's having breathing properly at the sight of him, but knowing him, he probably does.

His head tips to the side when she stops just in front of him and his voice is soft when he speaks again.

"It's good to see you, sweetheart," he says, and his eyes look just as soft as his tone.

She wants to tell him she hates him. She wants to say that she doesn't want to be here, but the words get stuck in her throat and she finds herself reciprocating.

"You too," she manages to get out.

He smiles, his eyes sparkling and she can read the pure joy in them, but he steps back, and gestures to his car.

"Shall we?" he asks politely.

She merely smiles and takes a step forward to open the door but he beats her to it, his hand darting forward for the car door.

"After you," he says, grinning.

She rolls her eyes, and from the smirk on his face, she knows he's caught it but she climbs in, nonetheless, and she watches with rapt attention as he strolls around to the other side with confidence. He's barely sat down for a second, before they're off, his hand on the gear stick and his foot on the accelerator.

And it's strange, but it's the most human, mundane thing that she's seen him done and it almost makes her smile.

He catches it, she knows that, but when doesn't he? He always seems to see things she never wants him to.

She must have fallen asleep somewhere in the way, since they'd been in the car for a while and she was beyond exhausted. She didn't realise that he did not live in the French Quarter.

When her eyes open, she's on his sheets, she knows she is, though it isn't the same room that she's grown accustomed to when her eyes shut.

She's surprised, however, when she glances around to find out that, for once, she's actually fully dressed. Sort of. She's wearing her underwear, and what appears to a man's henley thrown over the top and from the scent, she doesn't have to ask who it belongs to.

Especially not when she hears the sound of granite moving across a piece of paper.

Her head twists to the side, to catch Klaus' strong jaw, his lips pressed tightly together in concentration as he seemingly gets lost in his sketch.

She watches as his lips twist up into a smile when she fidgets, sitting up against the pillows and the blankets fall from her shoulders as a result.

"You promised you wouldn't move," he murmurs, but his eyes don't flicker upwards.

It's a turning point for Caroline, though, she's not really sure why. It suddenly occurs to her that this is something Klaus has thought about. The two of them.

Some sort of future memory?

It's the thought that has her eyes widening and has her back straightening, but she allows her own lips to twist into a smile as she watches him, seemingly absorbed in his work.

"Don't you have enough sketches of me?" she asks, almost teasingly, because she knows that no matter what universe their in, it's that Klaus will probably have thousands of sketches of her.

His eyes gleam when they flicker up, finally, with a wicked grin on his face.

"I can never have enough of looking at the beauty that is my fiancée," he says, seriously.

She chokes. Seriously.

She swear she chokes in thin air as her eyes widen.

"Wha-" she stumbles over her words. "Um, what?"

His eyes seem to crumble slightly and then he's vamping over to the bed.

"Are you having second thoughts, my love?" he asks sweetly, more sweet than she's ever heard him sound, though his eyes echo his concern. "I've got to admit there's not much time for cold feet."

It also registers to her that this must be something Klaus wants.

Just the two of them.

Klaus and Caroline.

The thought both terrifies her and warms her chest with everything that she feels for him.

It's that which has her sending him a timid smile, an upward curving of her lips.

"Never."

And she's even surprised by how much she means it.

He's answering grin is brilliant and he edges nearer to her until his hand can reach out to curl around her neck, his thumb caressing her cheek softly as his lips press briefly to her cheek, peppering kisses across her jaw until he can whisper into her ear.

"Then wake up, my love," he coaxes.

She does. Immediately.

She starts with a gasp, her eyes widening as she jolts up in the bed and she vaguely recognises that they're the same ones from in her dream and that Klaus is standing opposite her, leaning against the wall with a peaceful smile on his lips.

"Klaus," she gasps, her eyes wide.

He does that half crooked smile thing that she loves so much.

"Hello, love," he smirks. "Good sleep?"

She sits up further, a glare on her lips.

"You- you-" she doesn't know how to finish that as she throws the covers away from her and stomps upwards.

"Me?" he sounds so falsely innocent that she suddenly wants to strangle him.

She glares harder.

"Stop doing that," she demands.

He looks amused as he leans back against the wall, his eyebrows raising.

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"That," she emphasises, shooting him a fearful scowl. "Just stop. You're making me feel like-like-" she's not sure how to finish that because, in all honestly, she's not quite sure what she feels so she shakes her head, and goes in a different direction. "Stop with the dreams! Because I can't see anything else. I close my eyes and you - you're all I see!"

He looks almost resigned by the end of her rant, and his eyes lower slightly a, "I can't" escaping him.

She huffs, arms crossing her chest.

"And why the hell not?"

She's still glaring as his eyes direct back up to her face, and his tongue comes out to lick against his bottom lip.

"Because you're my mate."