Prompt: "Klaus is doing laundry for the first time in his life in the laundry matt. He doesn't know what he's doing and Caroline takes pity on him, telling him to separate his colors, fabric softener, pre treat stains, dryer sheets, etc. Caroline's washing machine goes crazy and explodes, spilling all her clothes and thongs out. So what if she has a bunch of thongs?"
For wanderlust-in-sync on tumblr.
- Shauna!xo
Klaus sighs heavily as he trudges down the stairs, feet clambering noisily as his hands hold the washbasket to his chest rigidly in dismay, now resigned to his fate (the one he'd been putting off for far too long). Laundry. In fact, he'd simply made a habit of purchasing new clothes when he ran out instead of washing them.
He'd never had to do his own washing before, okay? That was why you had help. He was still getting use to living without any, sue him.
Biting his lip, he stared at the machine in front of him as he slammed the white, plastic basket on the marble side, forehead crumpling. There were just so many buttons and drawers and-
"Klaus Mikaelson doing his own laundry. Didn't think I'd live to see the day," her high pitched voice wrung out and he didn't even need to turn around to know that a smile was plastered over her face, he could hear the smug smirk in her tone.
Caroline. Caroline Forbes. Also known as the girl who hated his guts and he, well, he felt very differently about her (as if that wasn't obvious by now).
He flashed around, greeting her with a lopsided grin, "Caroline."
She shot him an unimpressed look as she glided forward with her own laundry (evidently choosing the washer the furthest possible away from him). He merely raised an eyebrow in question.
She snorted in reply, "I think I've made my feelings towards you quite clear, Mikaelson."
He sauntered forward, grin twisting upwards by the corners of his mouth as his dimples protruded, caging her in with his arms against the white machine as he neared, eyes boring into hers so full of intensity and longing.
Grinning, he catches the intake of breath she takes due to his close proximity, "And what feelings might those be, sweetheart?"
Her eyes flicker down to his lips before they travel upwards again, the smirk never faltering from his lips as he catches it. She gulps harshly and his eyes immediately follow the movement, flitting across her pale, slender neck where he's absolutely certain her pulse is racing a thousand miles a minute.
She leans forward and for a moment, for such a brief, hopeful moment he thinks she's going to kiss him as she bites her lip, looking up at him from beneath hooded eyes, eyelashes fluttering slightly. He, however, is sorely disappointed when she instead pushes him away with a rough press to his chest (wincing slightly as her nails purposefully dig in, ever so slightly) and it causes him to stumble a couple of steps backwards, barely catching himself before he clambers to the floor.
When his eyes catch hers again, she's leaning against the machine with her arms folded over her chest and a smug grin tugging up at the corners of her lips as her bright eyes twinkle mischievously.
"I don't feel anything," she emphasises, "for you."
"Who you trying to convince on that one, love? Me or you?" he questions, as he leans against his own washing machine, dimpling at her.
She scoffs though the effect is ruined when she turns bright red, blushing under his scrutinizing gaze before she twirls around to focus on her laundry, "Think whatever you want, Klaus."
He's still smirking at her turned back when he gets started on his own washing, having his own dilemma temporarily forgotten. That, however, comes rushing back at the pile of clothes waiting patiently on the closed top with the fabric softener waiting on top.
He completely misses the sound of heels padding across the room as he stands, forehead crumpled as he stares at his clothes.
He eventually shrugs, figuring he's making the process out to be far more complicated than it actually is and randomly throws different articles of clothing into the washer through the open window.
Just about to shut the small door, he practically jumps three feet in the air when he hears a screech of "What the hell are you doing?" from directly behind him and wincing as it the high pitched voice echoes in his ear.
Turning slowly, he manages to mutter an "Um..."
Caroline is standing not two feet away from him with a disbelieving look on her face as she stares him down, eyes narrowing into slits and right hand resting on her hip in a tight grip, freshly manicured nails tapping rhythmically against her clothed skin.
He's still staring dumbly at her when a brilliant grin flashes over her dynamic features but this time it's more due to affection than anything else.
She's giggling then, a hand coming up to cover her mouth in hopes of stifling then and he suddenly decides he doesn't care that it's him she's laughing at because of his own stupidity, he'll do anything to be the cause of that joyful look on her face.
"Oh my god," she manages to stutter out between giggles. "You don't know how to do laundry, do you?"
Scowling, his eyes suddenly find the floor fascinating as he feels a redness spread across his cheeks, much to his dismay as the embarrassment overtakes because it wasn't just anyone who found him like this. No, it had to be her.
Her laughter eventually dies down which is replaced with an annoyed huff as he refuses to meet her eyes. He feels a sharp bump into his shoulder as she barges past him and collects his clothes from the washer and places them back on the white counter. Watching in confusion as his forehead wrinkles, she seems to be separating them apart though he can't see much with her back turned to him.
However, he can't seem to admit that he cares. Not with the way her hips sway from side to side as she hums lightly under her breath and with the way her ass-
"You could help, you know," her sarcastic voice cuts through the silence. "Instead of ogling my ass."
He grins smugly, eyes never faltering from said section of her body, "But what a delightful ass it is."
Slamming her hands down on the counter, she flashes around to face him, both her hands coming to rest on her hips with an aggravated huff as she glares at him, blue eyes shining as her nose wrinkles (as it always does when she's mad). But damn it, she is beautiful when she's angry, he muses as she stares him down, biting down on her bottom lip in concentration. She's also just as beautiful when she's happy and joyful and confused. In fact, he has yet to find an expression on Caroline that isn't attractive.
"Well... come on then," she tells him, exasperated.
He complies to her wishes though, stepping forth with a deep sigh, raising an eyebrow when she rolls her eyes at his dramatic behaviour.
"You can't put all your clothes together in one wash, it'll get jammed," she starts, hands waving enthusiastically as she demonstrates how he should categorize them but soon enough, he's drifted from the conversation, just catching snippets here are there.
He barely catches the exclaimed, "You can't put blacks and colors together, Klaus!"
(The way her breast sway in what should be an illegal top is absolutely breathtaking and soon enough his entire attention is directed there, evidently not noticing how she suddenly stops talking).
"Seriously?" is the shouted word that finally catches his attention, head bopping upwards in a quick, jerky movement.
He grins sheepishly when he catches her defiant pose (hands on her hips, eyes glaring passionately at him with her eyebrows raised and heel tapping continuously on the marble flooring).
"Sorry, love," he mumbles quietly.
Though he's not, not really. She's beautiful and maybe if he stares long enough he'll finally be able to get the curve of her upper lip right in the sketch he's been trying to perfect without his muse present for what seems like forever.
She snorts, "No, you're not."
He smirks, causing him to get an eye roll in return and she scoffs, ranting under her breath (perv and asshole seem to be her two favourite words in relation to him).
Her mouth parts as though she means to speak but a loud bang directs both of their attention to the right corner of the room where Caroline was previously washing her clothes. Previously being the operative word.
There is another loud bang (which he's sure sounds pretty familiar to an explosion, just a tad milder) and the white machine shakes violently before small tremors wreck against the pale, thin wall before it abruptly stops and a sound (which sounds similar to someone throwing it) echoes throughout the room.
Caroline (who had been silent, frozen to her spot throughout the exchange) marches forward, shoulder pushing against his to move him out of the way before she gasps, stopping at the scene, fists clenched by her sides.
He snorts. Now who's being dramatic?
"Now, love, I doubt it's that bad," he begins, strolling forth to meet her.
He grins wickedly as he stalls, looking at the colorful pile of clothes in front of him. Or, to be more detailed, a pile of very lacey, colorful underwear (her most appealing color turns out to be red, he muses, he took her for a pink type of girl though he definitely was right about picturing her wearing a lot of thongs).
The smirk could be etched to his face as he turns it onto her, her exasperated look making the corners of his lips widen as his teeth gleam in the artificial light.
"Well, well, well," he croons, walking towards her until she backs away from him noticing his eyes darkening with a predatory look passing over his dynamic features. "What do we have here?"
"Don't start," she hisses at him as her back hits against the hard wall, her head twisting around to scowl at it as she realises she's trapped.
A hand cups her chin, his thumb coming up to rub against the soft skin of her cheek as he directs her eyes towards him. When she finally does, his eyes are so blue and full of longing that it causes a pit of... something to curl up in a ball in her lower belly. Biting her lip, her eyes never falter from his as she watches him undress her with his eyes, unashamedly scanning her body.
"But what if I want to start?" he breaths against her, his face not two centimetres from hers now and she can hear his breath puffing against her lips with every word.
She shakes her head when the moment is finally broken as his eyes follow the movement of her breasts as they heave unevenly in her yellow tank top, "And that is the worst pick up line I think I've ever heard."
"What if it's not?" he questions, right hand trailing down her arm and raising goosebumps in his wake as he lets it dangle loosely by hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles. And damn him for knowing all of her soft spots.
"We both know you just want to get into my pants, of course it's just a line," she tells him and oh god, why is her voice that breathy?
His jaw ticks as he stares down at her and his voice is almost a growl when he gets out, "You know it's more than that."
"Do I?"
"You should," he's glaring now, eyes intent on her.
Things are silent after that, both of their eyes intensely passionate on each other as they will the other one to bow down.
"Go on a date with me," he says slowly as though speaking to a terrified child.
She startles at that, "What?"
"Go on a date with me," he repeats.
"Why?"
"You think I just want to bed you. I aim to prove you wrong," as he speaks his hand softens against her and he backs away slightly as though he knows she needs the room to breathe-
-and being the smug asshole he is, he probably does.
He looks hopeful as he stares at her, gaze unflinching as he wills her to say agree
She opens her mouth to reply (automatically deny his request) but she is very shocked herself when a completely different response tumbles from her lips, "Yes."
He looks shocked at the reply but then again, so does she but soon enough a magnificent smile overtakes his lips, dimpling directly at her as he searches for her hand and interlocks their fingers. Bringing their joined hands up, he brushes a soft kiss against her knuckles which lingers, the sound of his breaths echoing throughout the laundromat.
He's still dimpling when his eyes flicker back up to hers, the words, "I'll see you tomorrow, Caroline," brushed against her hand before he pushes off completely and marching off with a smirk and a wink and a confidence that only Klaus Mikaelson can manage.
Tomorrow.
