PROMPT: Day 8 + Favorite Quote. "You'll show up at my door and let me show you what the world has to offer." Caroline shows up at Klaus' door years later and repeats it to him. Later, they go and see the world together.
No baby/Hayley, as requested.
Happy 25 Days of Klaroline! :)
"Do you know what happens to those who disturb me whenever I explicitly say: DO NOT DISTURB?" Klaus growls.
To hell with democracy! Hybridarchy for one, hybridarchy for all! And the sooner these New Orleans wretches understand that he wears the crown—that his word is law—the better!
Still livid, Klaus needs time to seethe…in private. He needs time to calculate the cool, collected swing of his retaliation and to plot how he'll axe these traitorous little scamps into obedience. All of them.
Barred from leaving the house, is he? Imprisoned in this claustrophobic room like a naughty teenager by magically-induced prison bars, is that correct? Why. Better yet—what the fuck for?
Wham. Wham. Wham.
Klaus has spent much of the day already cracking his iron knuckles against this prison wall, willing brute force to shatter the spell in lieu of magical interference. But to no avail. He has been tricked, trapped, and taunted; and all he can do now is wait—and premeditate in peace.
What the hell is this? Klaus had bellowed this morning, appalled as his body had slammed against an invisible barrier. It had forbid him from exiting his bedroom for a butler-draining breakfast. Is this some kind of bloody joke?
Patience, Nik. This is necessary, Rebekah had said from the hallway, coming to stand before his open doorway.
Necessary my ass! he'd protested, all outrage and command. Let me out—let me out NOW! he'd snarled.
Rebekah had rolled her eyes at the sound of his petulance. Born a tyrant, died a tyrant, forever an undead tyrant. (Or so her expression had conveyed.)
I can't—she'd simpered knowingly, shaking her head as amusement enveloped her features —not yet, anyway.
Turning on her heel, Rebekah had waved in farewell and had disappeared down the spiral staircase, her voice echoing from below as she'd added,
Prepare yourself for a magical surprise, brother…
A surprise? What? Klaus hated surprises! And more than that, he hated Rebekah's taunting tone...
You'll pay for this, sister! he'd threatened, though not yet knowing for what.
Surely it's better to be prepared for the worst, he'd thought.
I promise you'll pay for this!
Looking forward to it, her voice had jingled in reply. Your promises never disappoint.
No fear? No regret? No guilt? Nothing but nonchalance and indifference.
What in the hell is the meaning of this blasphemy? Klaus had lamented to himself.
Klaus breaks free of the memory, still roaring with rage.
Pray tell, did these New Orleans imbeciles want war in a time of peace? Were they stark-raving mad to provoke the beast with this hot, magical poker? Hybrid rage always, always leaves a long trail of bloody bodies in the name of betrayal—or have his ungrateful subjects already forgotten Hayley's decapitated werewolf head swinging from his stake of victory? Have they already disregarded the most dangerous and deadly rule of all? No one forces Klaus Mikaelson's hand; no one.
"Funny—" a voice clucks tartly from behind.
The decanter of bourbon Klaus holds shatters in his grip the moment he hears it, coating his feet in the stinging precipitation of glass and alcohol.
I'm dreaming— he tells himself—I must be.
Soft yet brazen, that voice—how it buzzes full of saccharine poison in the stillness of his dark mind—always yanks him out of fresh hell. Always did, he should say. Those pert whispers always clog his mind in impenetrable fog. Never truly present, that voice, but forever with him all the same.
"—I'd have thought a little blonde distraction would always be welcome?" she questions, a tinge of disappointment lingering on her tongue.
Klaus freezes as her breath flutters across his ear, as her fingers trail along his shoulders and down the open buttons of his green Henley; as they sweep across his stubbly cheeks as delicately as a feather to cup his chin and lower his head. Eyes. Wide and vibrant and appraising, eyes probe him with rawness and singe away years of hidden secrets and delights, unraveling him in thick folds of yarn. Two seconds and—BOOM! He's exposed.
"My mistake, I guess," she smiles slyly, squeezing the dimple in his chin.
How many years has it been, Klaus wonders? 2? 5? 10?
Too long. Much too long has her beauty haunted his dreams in marble too exquisite to caress, electrifying his nerves with the charged current of distance. Just out-of-reach. Forever just out-of-touch.
His nerve endings had throbbed for the positive end of his magnet for hours, days, and years; and with that first touch—with her first initiation of contact—the solemnity of her prolonged absence melts away, re-energizing his starved heart like a pacemaker. Zip, zap—awakened from its somber hibernation.
"Too bad—" she pretend-pouts.
Drawing away, she flashes to the bottom of Klaus' bed to perch on the comforter by her elbows.
"—because I came alllll the way here to entrap you into finally cashing in my I.O.U…" she trails off, gesturing at the invisible bedroom prison and grinning "…and I had hoped you wouldn't ask for a receipt," she shrugs.
Klaus' eyebrows raise at this, for surely, this is a surprise—and so is she.
"To what do I owe you, Caroline?" he drawls as he approaches the bed in measured steps. "For, I assure you—" he licks his lips as he takes her right hand "—you are always my little blonde pleasure," he says, bowing his head to place a kiss against her knuckles.
Caroline smiles warmly at this, not at all uninviting. And although she doesn't respond right away, the words—Good, I'll tell you what I want—radiate from the hand she has yet to remove from his grasp.
Observing her there, splayed across his comforter like a ripe fruit, her luminosity blasting taunting shades of desire and longing against his mattress, Klaus is reminded of the eternity of things he still owes to her—of the myriad of wonders he hopes to one day brush across her senses, sculpt against her body, and carve into her heart—and how much he'd like to pluck her from that forbidden tree and take another juicy, delectable bite of her—
—One transient shag in the woods of Mystic Falls wasn't enough. And neither was one rushed admission of attraction that she'd spent two years denying in dismissive, though always enchanting, rebuttals. It never would be—never could be.
"You owe me the chase," Caroline declares matter-of-factly.
The chase? What chase?
"Sorry?" Klaus deadpans.
Sitting down next to her, he scratches his head and gazes at her all bewilderment. Why is this woman always speaking in riddles?
"The wooing chase!" she maintains.
She rolls her eyes at his persistent lack of understanding and scoffs; because apparently, he's a blithering moron incapable of grasping her blatant meaning…whatever the hell it is.
He wishes she'd cut him some fucking slack. He still understands her—most of the time—but it's been a few years. Separation and distance have made him a little rusty in Caroline-translation.
"You know! The wooing chase—" she repeats again; this time, with an air of annoyance, fear—and dare he think it—hope?"—where you and your charming, cultured, not to mention cocky, Original ass chase me around the world—"
She pauses here waiting for a flicker of recognition, but when Klaus betrays none she continues,
"—showing me all that it has to offer?"
Ah—yes. Now he understands. Rome, Paris, Tokyo. Caroline's here to collect on his once-upon-a-time offer to escort her around the world…wherever she wants.
Talk about surprises! Apparently his sister wasn't kidding, because this is the most magical surprise in his life…in the world…in the history of the fucking universe! But, before Klaus lets hope swallow him whole and chafe him raw with emotion, he needs to know one thing—
"—Isn't showing you the world well within Stefan Salvatore's means, sweetheart?" he asks caustically.
"No."
She responds quickly, without hesitation or irony.
"No?"
Klaus glances at her quizzically—holding his breath with half agony, half hope.
He's well aware that his beloved, perky blonde had found "forever" love with his reformed Rippah friend; and that knowledge, which Stefan had imparted himself during his last visit to the city a few years ago, had threatened to snuff out the hope in his heart forever. He can't compete with Stefan's all-encompassing purity of heart—he couldn't. He wouldn't.
Klaus had always supposed that his tainted heart complemented Caroline's in unbalanced equilibrium perfectly, for it teetered like a scale from strong to weak at all the precise moments, never stationary and always kinetic; but if impeccable steadiness and Stefan is what she wanted, then Klaus was willing give it to her…freely. Her heart, her choice, her happiness. To be happy, that's all he'd ever wanted for Caroline—whether it was with, or without him.
"Wouldn't you be happier with him chasing you from country to country instead?" Klaus presses, his voice low and raspy.
"No," she reiterates firmly.
Caroline flicks her eyes to his face. They're sharp and austere with some hidden emotion that's tucked just behind the blue of her iris, begging for release.
"Are you sure?" he prods, not daring to push his luck and believe the wrong thing.
Caroline softens as she perceives the doubtful paranoia in his expression. And taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she reaches out tentatively—like she's afraid she'll be rejected at any moment—as if he'd dare—to take his hand. A blush colors her cheeks the moment their fingers intertwine and click into place like Legos. But unlike in the past, there's no embarrassment or hostility or hesitation lingering in her face as they touch…only undisguised delight.
For the first time, she offers Klaus encouragement—unabashedly and without restraint. In an effort to further convey her certainty, she bends her head to place a kiss that breathes yes against the back of his hand.
And if possible, Klaus thinks that one kiss could breathe yeses into his skin forever.
"Stefan never had the feet to chase me, only the arms to contain me—" Caroline explains, her steady gaze faltering "—and I'm uncontainable. I'm meant to shine freely and everlastingly like the freaking sun, and I need a man—" she stammers and pierces Klaus with a look, her hands trembling with anxiety and apprehension "—I need a man who won't attempt to extinguish my flames…no matter how hot I burn."
"And as it is—" she smiles brightly, recovering herself to meet his searching eyes, "—I know of only one…" she trails off.
Klaus' breath hitches in his throat in anticipation. No oxygen. No words. Nothing except complete and utter awe.
"—you."
Warmth rushes into his chest at this one tiny word, sending beams of happiness firing through his veins like rockets traveling at the speed of light. Please, let his sister magically imprison him all over! He'd do anything to hear Caroline speak that beautiful sentence again for the first time.
His heart lives—his heart is alive.
"You've finally figured that out, have you?" Klaus smirks, tapping her playfully on the nose.
Caroline reaches out to him a second time by wrapping her arms around his middle, embracing him and cuddling into the crook of his neck. She closes her eyes and sighs contentedly against him.
"Just be happy it didn't take me a century," she grumbles.
Klaus chuckles against her hair. Oh, how he's missed his little spitfire!
"Where should we go first?" she asks.
"If it's me you choose to have by your side," Klaus starts, "I'll chase you anywhere—" he presses his lips to her forehead, then her nose, then her left and right cheeks "—and everywhere you want to go in this world—"
He tilts his head back for a moment to marvel at the hope he once dreamed, but never believed he'd receive, and smiles at how comfortably and cheerfully Caroline, his one true wish, now rests in his arms. Tracing the curves of her lips with his index finger, he leans in close to whisper like he did the first time he healed her in Mystic Falls.
"—I promise," he swears as their lips collide.
By Caroline's side, matching her step-for-step, day-after-day, Klaus chases her through every country, every city, and every village in the world she demands to see, silently reveling in each fresh exclamation of amazement and admiration that escapes from her lips. The world becomes an undecorated dessert again and he salivates over the iridescent zest she adds to everything, licking the sprinkled frosting of life from his fingers like it were for the first time. Delicious, crisp, and light to the last drop.
Hand-in-hand, they run with the bulls in Pamplona. Caroline's laugh tinkles the air as Klaus spurs the animals into snarled charging—not with red cloths, but with the hybrid gleam of his eyes. Chair-next-to-chair, they bury their feet beneath the warm Jamaican sand and toast the July sunset with drinks in the shape of a coconut. Caroline wrestles him the in salt water when he refuses to help build sandcastles and calls him a boring old man; she drags him out of bed at dawn for quiet walks through the Alps; and she coaxes him into posing for photos at every bloody landmark they pass, making sure to comprise inventive hashtags for Instagram: #SaucyInItalia #TrendyAtTheTaj #GazingGodsAtGiza.
Klaus gripes about her compulsive travel blogging because it robs him of an hour of more pleasurable activities every night, but secretly adores Caroline's determination to document their time together. Their shared life and experiences. No woman's ever cared enough about him before to treasure shared moments or to immortalize them in photographs or blogged words. He reciprocates in the only way he knows how—with doting that's Caroline-exclusive and with artwork that's far more expressive than any words that could leave his lips.
Rome, Paris, and Tokyo they save for last, for it's the beautiful crescendo of their wooing courtship; and they're content to marvel at how far they've travelled…together. Klaus chases Caroline's heart in marathon pace, never once tramping on the flaming sunbeams that infuse her with vibrancy. But it's not until they arrive in Paris, that she finally allows him to claim it in the name of last love.
"It seems appropriate, don't you think—" she asks, beaming into his face with her hands enveloped around his neck "—to win the wooing game in the City of Love itself?"
Klaus smiles and draws her into his chest.
"Consider it a cherry on top of the perfect sundae, love," he replies as he kisses her tenderly on the mouth, "and I wouldn't have it any other way."
Although Klaus spends the rest of his days chasing after his girl for better or for worse, there's one thing—and one thing alone—that remains his no matter what: Caroline's heart. And as far as surprises go, is any one of them more precious than that? Not in this hybrid's eternal lifetime, that's for damn sure.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some light and fluffy Klaroline for you all this time. Also, kudos to anyone who noticed the Persuasion reference I slipped into this drabble. I had to do that at least once, you know? ;)
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. Leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading! :-D
xx Ashlee Bree