PROMPT: Caroline goes to Klaus' house after prom (4x19) to thank him, making him realize he never should have left her behind in Mystic Falls + "I broke into your house because I'm drunk af and now you're making me breakfast" AU.
Happy 25 days of Klaroline! This is for Day 2: Season 4.
P.S. I fiddled with the prompts a little. Have at it! :)
Toes tangled in sweaty sheets, mouth parched with the taste of stale liquor, Klaus spent the past two night restless—dreaming of pliers. Rusty pliers. The kind that clipped away jagged lapels of flesh and plucked at organ tissue like guitar strings that strip-stripped instead of strum-strummed, all to reveal the sweet tune of revenge his lips no longer whistled. Puckering his lips together and encouraging the notes to, once again, purr across his tongue, he closed his eyes—breathing long and slow and deep—inhaling nothing…but benign oxygen.
Mercy gripped Klaus by the throat, squeezing him hoarse. Mute. No demon words of his would snuff out the light from her smile. No smothering hands would smear the rainbow from her happy sky. No wrecking ball of hybrid proportions would detonate the first love of her young, vampire heart and devastate her to the annihilation of hope, wrapping her in the blanket of despair he too often wore like Batman's cape; the preservation of her cheerfulness had become too dear. The warmth of her contented sigh had retracted his avenging thirst. Not forever, but for one night: PROM.
Prom night only.
Tyler's treachery deserved death, but not at the expense of the genuine beauty that Caroline deserved. And she deserved it all, every last morsel. The small town boy could offer her a sliver of happiness that Klaus could not yet supply, so he let him come; he let him stay. He let them dance and kiss and plan and hope. He let them smile a million hello'sand cry a thousand goodbye's. He let them bask in the splendor of another moment together. The night was hers; the night was theirs—Klaus was not there. Like silence, he clung to the shadows and refused to interfere.
For one night only.
Although he'd never let her know, Klaus had gifted Caroline the only human mercy his hybrid heart still possessed in trifles: selflessness. It sprinkled across his life as sporadically as a salt-shaker, flavoring his days not with prominence, but with tiny flecks of subtlety. He'd never let her know that he'd extended this courtesy for her—how it was all for her.
The secret died on his tongue in globs of flat bourbon. Poured but never drunk.
Caroline's eyes fluttered shut to amble among glittery Cinderella extravagance and to blush at the collection of mesmerized admirers that gaped as she passed down the staircase, her tingling feet parading her across the floor in swooshing, queenly strides. Champagne glasses clinked; joviality clung to faces, laughs, and people; orchestra music plucked from violin strings, and Tyler felt whole and warm in her arms. There. Tyler was there!
She clung to her boyfriend in white-knuckled need—desperate to preserve—her dress twirling around her ankles in elegant ruffles as their mismatched feet blundered through a fox-trot. His tapped while hers rapped; hers spun while his wanted to run. Different rhythms entrapped their feet in the same way that different fabrics now covered their skin. Tyler's scratchy sleeves snagged against the flawless silk around her waist as they moved. It added a discordant note to their beautiful love song that once blared with a chorus of forever. Caroline leaned in to kiss her one, true, golden knight, only to fear that he was no longer her refrain.
Clutching kept them close for some time, but snagging continued to push them farther and farther apart. Tyler bowed as they dangled on their last note; and kissing her hand, he assumed his place as her first verse. Until we find a way, he breathed against her skin, until we find a way.
A beautiful lyric perhaps, but what would happen if it trailed away…never to return?
Caroline already mourned the familiar regularity of her and Tyler's percussive beat. It still lingered in echoes, making her resistant to this new delicate yet subduing music that vibrated against her heart in long-winded piano runs. It frightened her with its intensity and candor because it pressed the keys with an ageless classicism that she found alluring, not to mention damn-near hypnotic. Danger called to the particles of her golden soul with every orgasmic note—with no intention to destroy, but to enhance. And the king offered her his open, humming hand.
Let me show you what the world has to offer, Klaus purred, Let me show you…
The worst part? She wanted to reach out and take it!
Head lolling back and forth across a pillow, hands flapping before her in defense, tears dripping from the corners of her eyes, Caroline awoke the past two nights hysterical—screaming. She swatted the nightmares from her eyes like a windshield wiper. Tyler was the refrain she demanded her heart to play, not Klaus!
Not Klaus.
Though she'd never let either of them know, this secret hope died like a fading, fizzling star in the night sky. Wished but never granted.
For better or for worse, Klaus and Caroline had become each other's most beautiful nightmare. And they'd need more than evasive luck to untie that immortal knot, especially in the small town of Mystic Falls. Not that it'd keep them from trying…
"You do realize—" Klaus grunted as he stumbled into the study all groggy "—that you'd make a lot less racket if you turned on the blasted light."
It was 5 A.M! What sane person—presumably one who wanted to avoid daggers or death—banged, crashed, and smashed through the bloody house that early in the morning? For all she knew, he'd been asleep! (Truth be told, he'd spent the night counting the swirls of his ceiling fan and dreaming of rusty pliers that pried Lockwood's heart from his chest, but she didn't know that.)
Besides, he wasn't in the mood. Rebekah could take her whiny, I want to be human, drinking to her fucking room. Immediately.
"I always thought you dramatic, sweetheart, but not uncouth," Klaus added.
Lack of sleep and thoughts of Caroline had made him gruffer than usual, but two days of allotted pouting seemed more than generous. To be frank, he was surprised that his sister had returned home so soon. Rebekah usually required time and space away to temper her "crucial" disappointments in life.
After running a hand through his messy curls, Klaus switched on the nearest lamp.
"Well, excuuuse me, Mr. Hybrid Crankypants," she scoffed. "I didn't realize paranoid serial killers had paranoid sleeping ears, too."
His eyes widened the moment the light sprung across Caroline's sofa-sprawled form. She cuddled a bottle of tequila under her arm and smoothed a dress cover over her lap.
"Cheers to disturbing your bloodcurdling dreams of slaughter and revenge, then," she mocked, toasting him and taking a large swig.
Klaus appraised her with surprise from beneath pinched eyebrows.
"And to what do I owe this unexpected breaking-and-entering pleasure?" he asked.
Caroline rolled her eyes.
"Could you put a cork in the smug charm, please?" she snapped. "It's distracting."
Klaus dimpled at this.
"I—I mean annoying," she corrected. "Though, I shouldn't be surprised; it's your most infuriating trait."
"Thanks for the probing assessment, love," he replied drily.
While Caroline shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, a blush reddening her cheeks, Klaus observed her closely from the door archway. Adorned in an oversized Mystic Falls football t-shirt—probably Tyler's—she'd forgone jeans and shoes in favor of a pair of striped-cotton pajama pants and bunny slippers. While she wore her hair high on her head, pulled off her face, stray strands fell across her forehead and drooped against the back of her neck in disheveled blonde tangles; and although the effect was far from disagreeable, it contrasted markedly with her characteristically-pristine appearance. Klaus thought she'd never looked lovelier, smeared mascara and all. Or more compelling.
"You're drunk, Caroline," he stated blankly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"I am not," she argued.
Defiant, she took another sizable swig from the tequila bottle and then wiped a hand across her lips.
"For your information," she started, "I am in full—" hiccup "—sober—" hiccup, hiccup "—command of my whirling pissed off brain, and you—" she paused, pointing a finger at him threateningly "—you have been warned that smiley Caroline—" hiccup, hiccup, hiccup "—is here and no longer smiling."
She crossed her arms and shook her head decisively.
"—And it is all your fault!" she finished.
"Yes," Klaus drawled in reply, repressing a smirk, "that seems to be the common trend, I'm afraid."
"Except I can't hate you!" she exclaimed, clearly vexed. "I should—and God knows I want to—you banished my boyfriend, killed his mother, and tortured me and my friends for months, for crying out loud! But I can't. I freaking should…but I don't."
Caroline threw her hands up in exasperation.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" she groaned, collapsing her face into her hands.
Klaus grinned. He liked Caroline this way, truth be told. She was loose and uninhibited. Free from control. Emotion, not just truth, spilled from her without a filter and he found it refreshing. She'd finally managed to breach their connection with something other than hostility; and while confusion wasn't ideal, it was a start.
…Or so he hoped?
"Is that why you're here, Caroline?" he pressed.
Klaus flashed to sit next to her on the sofa, slowly edging his fingers around the bottle of tequila and removing it to the pillow behind his back. His gaze pierced hers with penetrating anxiety and intensity. And then, he leaned in closer.
"—to tell me that you don't hate me?"
The air grew thick and stale between them, his breath hanging on her answer. So close—and yet, still so far away.
Caroline pfft'd.
"Definitely not," she replied.
Klaus' face fell, if only for a second. Recovering quickly, however, he leaned back and assumed a more comfortable position, tucking a foot under his butt and hugging a pillow to his side. He peered at her with patient curiosity.
"Then, please tell me," he encouraged with a smile, "what prompted you to break into my house…at 5 o'clock in the morning?"
Caroline suddenly grew distracted. Not only did she become restless, fidgeting with her daylight ring and the drawstring of her pajama bottoms, but her gaze darted from corner-to-corner of the room, never settling on Klaus for more than two seconds.
"Caroline?"
Still glancing around, she began to drum her fingers against her kneecaps and bite at her bottom lip.
"Caroline?" he repeated again.
Her hesitation to respond made Klaus nervous. Wary. What had she and her band of Mystic Falls hooligans done to undermine him this time?
"Caroline—" The third repetition of her name, which Klaus growled more than uttered, broke her from her abstraction; and she finally turned her attention back to the hybrid. "—why are you here?" he prodded.
A shadow of dread and impending rage had fallen over his face as their eyes met. His hands curled into fists around the sofa cushion fabric and he bent forward, waiting. Why was he always waiting for her? To speak, to act, to confess, to challenge? Why didn't he just—
"Pancakes," Caroline responded.
—That's why. Whatever Klaus predicted her to say, Caroline almost always floored him with something unpredictable. Sometimes she answered in direct contrast to his expectations; and other times, she merely surprised him off his ass.
"I'm—I'm sorry?" he stammered with confusion. Cocking his head back, he released a good-humored laugh. Scratching his chin, he quirked an eyebrow at her and said, "You came here for pancakes?"
"What?" she blinked.
"That's what you just—"
"—No, no, no! You misunderstood me," she claimed, shaking her head. "Hoping to avoid a hybrid reunion, I decided to return my prom dress at a time I knew you'd be unconscious…or should have been," Caroline grumbled.
"Sorry to have derailed you evasive plans so cruelly, sweetheart, but I'm a light sleeper," he lied. Caroline would never know how many sleepless nights, how many restless hours, he spent thinking of her. "Paranoid monster and all that," he continued with a smirk.
"Whatever," she said, dismissing him.
Jumping up, she deposited the dress on his lap—complete with a thank you note clipped to the hanger—and began pacing before him.
"Despite my best efforts—" she rolled her eyes "—you're here and you're awake—of freaking course—taunting me in all your crumpled, sexy-scruffed glory, so let me say this quickly," she rambled, turning to face him. "Thank you for the princess dress; it was much appreciated—" hiccup, hiccup "—and I want pancakes."
Klaus chuckled outright at this last bit. How he managed to find this woman undeniably adorable, delightful, and beautiful in the exact same moment she affronted him with scorn, he'd never understand. But he did. Every single time.
"Come on, then—" he started. Catapulting from his seat, Klaus flashed them to the study door in seconds. "—let's make you some pancakes."
"I'm not drunk, by the way," Caroline maintained as he steered her toward the kitchen, "I'm hungry."
Klaus peered at her quizzically, repressing a laugh.
With her nose raised in the air and her feet progressing in tripping, stumbling steps, Caroline moved forward with the stubborn pride befitting of a queen. A drunken queen, mind you, but a queen nevertheless. And only she was prepared to play that part to royal perfection.
"The tequila swimming in your eyes argues differently, I'm afraid," Klaus smiled. "But don't worry, love," he whispered, "I won't hold it against you."
As it turned out, pancake-making turned out to be a lot more fun than Klaus remembered. He never knew of heart-shaped cut-outs or of flour-fights from across the counter or of batter face-painting from atop kitchenette stools before Caroline endeavored to school him in all things silly and delicious, as she liked to say. The experience made an unholy mess of his kitchen—utensils, ingredients, and maple syrup everywhere—but what did it matter when she seemed so light and cheerful skating across the floor in her bunny slippers? He only wished he had a camera to preserve the moment…or better yet, his sketchpad.
Klaus was dense, but not carefree. Klaus was entertaining, but not exultant. Klaus was serious, but not goofy. That is, he never was as a hybrid…or as a vampire…or as a human for that matter; Mikael and his cruelty always made sure of that. But tonight—tonight Klaus was all of these things and more.
Thank heavens his siblings had scattered to the wind, for they'd surely gape at him for partaking in such human absurdities. Kol, God rest his burnt-to-a-crisp, deranged soul, would ask why Klaus bothered to taste pancakeswhen you could taste the tantalizing treat before you instead? Rebekah, still cross, probably opted for a hotel room where she could make moon-eyes at all the Donovan entries in her diary, drawing hearts around his face with red pen. Had she been there, she'd stomp around bitching and moaning about how you get to indulge in all the human loveliness, while I suffer, you bastard! Elijah would clear his throat and say, make sure you tidy up when you're finished, Niklaus, before he'd promptly exit the room.
Klaus had hoped to catch some restless z's before he jetted off to New Orleans later this afternoon (apparently Elijah had uncovered a potential threat there—tedious business as usual), but he found Caroline's company to be better than sleep. Drunk, sober, angry, austere, haughty, sarcastic, flippant, optimistic—he cherished all of her moods. Just being near her in any capacity was sufficient, whether as friend or as foe. Contentment swelled his veins like oxygen in her presence and all he could do was savor the full, fresh air. He breathed Caroline in…and never wished to breathe her out.
"Everyone's always leaving me behind," she griped suddenly, forking a piece of pancake.
"How do you mean?" Klaus pried.
They'd moved to the kitchen table to eat, an array of butter, syrup, brown sugar, and cinnamon splayed across the surface. Though the tequila slowly drained from Caroline's eyes and stomach, she still vacillated in the tipsy realm. Klaus, two chairs to the left, sat with her legs sprawled across his lap and plucked at the bunny ears on her slippers with his thumbs.
"I mean—" she took a bite and sighed "—first, my dad ditched me for a man. He and Stephen visited when they could—but still. We went from every day to every other weekend and daddies just aren't always as inclusive and involved from different zip codes, you know?"
"And then," she continued, "my mom ditched me when I became a vampire. We're cool now and she's accepted it—me—but it still sucked at the time," she explained with a casual wave of the hand. "And Bonnie, Elena, and the Salvatores are constantly leaving me out of supernatural plots, which is so not cool. I'm savy, sassy, and spirited, dammit! Show me some respect!" she demanded, forked raised in the air.
Klaus listened to Caroline with rapt attention, smirking at the humorous bits and frowning at the unpleasant ones. His mind couldn't help but draw parallels between their subjective experiences. Unlike him, however, Caroline rivaled neglect with redemption instead of revenge. Such similar problems they faced, and yet what vastly different solutions they enacted.
"And now—" she paused, drooping her head to hide her face "—and now even Tyler's forced to ditch me for a new world. A new life! I could have gone with him," she contended, "I could have!"
Caroline sneered at this and threw her head back.
"Why does everyone choose to leave me behind?" she asked with tears in her eyes. "Why?"
"I wouldn't—" Klaus responded, clearing his throat and meeting her blinking gaze reluctantly "—I would never choose to leave you."
Removing her feet from his lap, Caroline scooted into the open chair next to him and narrowed her eyes into his face.
"You mean, you'd just take me with you everywhere…"
Though Caroline delivered this line as a statement, the trailing off made it sound more like a question than an accusation.
"Only if you wanted to go," Klaus answered. "I'd never force you to do something you did not choose for yourself, Caroline."
"Why not?"
She sounded surprised, but not as surprised as when he encircled her right hand in his and pulled her close.
"Because I believe—" he breathed in soft tones "—that wherein the freedom of choice exists, so does the freedom to be chosen. And call it selfish—" he dimpled, peering hard into her blue eyes "—but I wouldn't dare destroy that freedom for either one of us, would you?" he asked.
Releasing her hand, he flashed to the sink with their empty plates. As he turned on the water and began scrubbing, he added with a chuckle,
"Just think of all the possibilities!"
Klaus heard Caroline's head clunk against the table in exasperation as he said this.
"What in the hell was I thinking coming here? Breaking in to return a dress? Drinking tequila, eating pancakes, and spilling secrets with the Boyfriend Banisher himself? Am I insane?"
Apparently the food finally soaked up some of the drunken haze, because Caroline had toppled head-long into pancake-shaming reprimands…directed exclusively at herself.
"I sincerely hope I remember none of this tomorrow," she lamented in muffled groans.
"Don't worry, love," Klaus whistled nonchalantly from the sink, "I'll make sure you don't."
"What's that supposed to mean? Are you going to wipe my memory or something?" Caroline spat.
"No—" he chuckled. Throwing a dish towel over his shoulder, he flashed back to the open chair next to her and helped her to her feet. "—I'm going to take you home so you can sleep off this crazy, bizarre dream you're having," he said as he dashed them to the garage.
Caroline scrutinized him as she climbed into the car and fastened her seatbelt. Confusion and curiosity marked her expression.
"But I'm not sleeping, am I?"
Klaus, who still perched outside the passenger door that he'd held open for her, grasped Caroline gently by the shoulders as she asked this. As he inclined her chin softly with his thumb, she caught her breath. Probably unsure of what to expect, she trembled as their gaze met and licked her lips in anticipation. Their eyes locked with heady gravity in seconds; and before long, her irises began to swirl in lollipop circles with ready obedience: primed for compulsion.
"Yes—" he sighed gravely, despising himself "—you are sleeping and this was all a dream."
Call it a get-out-of-embarrassment free card or an avoid-future-hostility escape hatch for Caroline, but Klaus knew that compelling her to "dream" their early morning rendezvous was for the best. Not forever, but for now. The truth would flood back to her one day when the universe smiled upon them and his lips imparted a selfless kiss that she'd accept gratefully, and without rebuff.
As it was, Caroline's heart and happiness resided with Tyler for the time being—not that the ingrate deserved her—and while he'd love to see them split up, Klaus didn't want to be the main reason why. Perhaps it was selfish thinking coming from a selfish man, but he didn't want bad blood over smarmy Lockwood to ruin his chance of being chosen. He deserved better than that…and so did Caroline.
As he slipped through her bedroom window unheard, Klaus deposited Caroline tenderly on the bed—only to feel her delicate arms clinging to his neck in restraint as he attempted to move away.
"Wait—" she pleaded, holding his face in place.
Leaning up, blinking through eyes half-awake and half-asleep, she pressed her lips softly to his left cheek. There, against his scruffy face, Caroline left a kiss as sweet and as genuine as he knew she could be. She'd bestowed an unexpected gift.
"—Thank you for prom—" she whispered "—thank you for Tyler—" she breathed against his skin "—thank you for pancakes," she smiled, finally surrendering to the warmth and comfort of her pillows with a yawn.
Ducking out the window, pausing only one last time to admire his sleeping (and snoring) blonde beauty, Klaus felt a momentary pang of guilt. Not for the compulsion, but for the leaving. Unlike the others in her life, however, he didn't leave her behind with empty promises—he left her in waiting, full of shared memories and hope for the beautiful future he knew she'd attain one day.
As it was, New Orleans awaited and Caroline wasn't ready to leave her hometown. She wasn't ready to dump Tyler, or to disappear from Mystic Falls, or to disregard her trivial, little human world and traditions…and that was okay. They still had time; they had eternity.
In the end, Klaus committed one small sin in order to preserve the sanctity of free choice. And he could live with that. He could live with that today, tomorrow, and however many more days it took for her to choose him. Klaus knew patience; he would wait.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Compulsion aside (it's a controversial thing, I know; but there's a little grey to be exploited in everything in life-supernatural, human, or otherwise-which is what I endeavored to show), my new headcanon is that when Klaus kisses Caroline's cheek in 4x23 after his however long it takes declaration, she remembers that her pancake-hybrid "dream" wasn't actually a dream. And in addition to being happy about Tyler's freedom/pardon, she's glad to remember this isn't the first time Klaus has demonstrated selflessness. ;)
Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! Reviews would be lovely.
xx Ashlee Bree
