Prompt: someone in the dorms makes amazing cookies and you're trying to figure it out and walk in on me baking at four in the morning

Haha, thanks Miranda luv! Sorry this took a while. Kind of a role reversal and took on a mind of its own, but hope you like it : )

Cookies 'n' Cream

Caroline Forbes always considered herself strong with an impressive amount of willpower but she'd been in a funk for weeks now struggling with two things that were threatening to derail her usually perfect composure.

One was an unsolved mystery that had been eating away at her and not in the way you would think. Yes, she wanted to solve it but in actual fact it was something she also wanted to eat, cookies to be exact.

There had been talk around the dorms about the enticing smell wafting through the halls in the dead of night. Caroline prided herself on her baked goods prowess (not cooking, just sniffing them out and eating in abundance) and after multiple dead ends and disappointments with their whereabouts she was tired, frustrated and famished. She had attempted eating other things but all she wanted were the mystery cookies taunting her concentration and appetite daily.

In true Caroline fashion she'd covered her wall with clues determined to find those cookies and their maker if it killed her (or the starvation did). She'd done everything; staked out the hall at night, logged all her observations, made detailed maps and pretty diagrams with colour coordinated post-its but she was yet to solve the mystery. And it was killing her.

She often wondered why someone would make cookies only not to share, if you asked Caroline it was completely un-American. And then it hit her. The culprit and his damn cookie aromas had been under her nose all this time.

She'd made the discovery about 3:53am judging by a quick glance at the red numbers on her bedside clock. Not caring about anything but the heavenly smells in the air, Caroline barrelled down the hall, finally stopping by the door in question. She paused before knocking realising his smug ass was going to get the wrong idea but she was far too hungry to care.

"Open up, Mikaelson," she insisted, bashing on his door. Yes, she was acting cuckoo but decided that if anyone complained she'd blame the sugar withdrawals. "I know you're in there."

She heard nothing, in fact she was starting to wonder if the hunger had driven her completely insane and this was all some weird nightmare. Yes, he was gorgeous but he knew it and took every opportunity to taunt Caroline mercilessly during class and after.

Klaus Mikaelson was the resident playboy on campus, he'd apparently bedded more women than most and Caroline had no intention of falling prey to his charms, just his cookies. She shook her head wondering if she really just conjured up that sentence, even if it was in her head.

"Do you mind, love?" The door had swung open while she was busy arguing with her sub conscious and the sight of her fellow dorm mate clad only in a pair of fitted grey boxers, upturned crimson lips and rumpled, blonde curls wasn't helping Caroline find her words very quickly.

"Do you?" After she'd uttered it, Caroline knew what a ridiculously, stupid idea it was, even for cookies.

"Well, last time I checked, you're the one pounding on my door at 4am, Forbes," he smirked, flashing an equally adorable but smug dimple in her direction. If his bare chest wasn't messing with her concentration she would have wiped it off his face. "Is this your idea of a booty call?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, that ensemble leaves nothing to the imagination, between you and me," she felt her whole body go cold mentally kicking herself for not throwing a robe over her brief shorts and singlet combination in her quest for cookies. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I have no intention of entertaining your warped fantasies or being another notch on your bedpost."

"And what exactly do you know about my bedpost?" He enquired, leaning in closer so she could inhale his enticing aroma amongst the cookie fumes.

"Enough," she huffed. "What I don't know about is your cookies."

"Oh, is that what you Americans refer to as…"

"No, get your head out of the gutter," she stopped him with a palm, albeit shakily, on that toned chest. "But, while we're on cultural matters, I think you need to learn how to share."

"Oh, hang on, you did not just go there," he argued. "Pretty sure the Queen wouldn't be too happy with that assessment."

"I'm talking cookies Mikaelson, not cucumber sandwiches," she shot back. "It's not fair for you to tempt us all with what you're cooking and expect us not to get hungry."

"Us, or you?" He asked pointedly, his eyes resting curiously on the palm still pressed against his bare chest. She moved it away, albeit reluctantly given how good it felt. Their eyes however didn't waver, dark blue on light, and Caroline was suddenly questioning why she was there before he spoke again.

"If you wanted a cookie all you had to do was ask, love," he murmured. She felt her mouth go dry, wondering whether it was actually a good idea to go into the womaniser's lair so briefly clothed at 4am.

"When I say cookie, I actually mean…"

"I know," he grinned. "How about I get you a cookie and a glass of milk and we can just talk." She raised her eyebrows ominously. "I promise." She walked in, probably against her better judgement but she could sense an inexplicable sadness in his eyes.

"About what exactly?"

"Anything you want," he mustered. "I need some distractions lately."

"And your harem isn't enough?" She quipped, unable to help herself.

"I think you need to stop listening to the campus gossip, Forbes, it seems to be making you crazy and pounding on unsuspecting men's doors in the middle of the night."

"No, that was your cookies," she replied, gesturing towards the oven. "I had no idea you cooked."

"It seems like you have no idea about anything when it concerns yours truly," he offered, opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of milk and pouring it into two glasses.

"Oh, you mean the fact you bake in nothing but boxer shorts?"

"What can I say? The oven gets a little hot," he teased, placing some freshly baked cookies on a plate and sitting at the table by her side. For some reason suddenly she wasn't so hungry anymore.

"So, why exactly do you need distractions?" His gaze lowered, his hands fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth.

"Otherwise I might just keep cooking so I don't think about other things," he mumbled.

"Why? Are you a baking addict? Do you need your sponsor?" The silence was deafening, Caroline worried she'd gone too far.

"Not usually, but my mother is or was…" he trailed off. She placed her hand over his, not sure why, but it felt like he needed it.

"Your mother?"

"She's not well, actually she's really sick and all I can think of is to cook her recipes and take them to her in hospital," he whimpered, albeit quietly. Caroline's heart went out to him, not wanting to push him to explain further but suddenly wanting to help take his mind off things.

"So, what do we do next?" She asked, surprising him.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I interrupted this cookie making process so the least I can do is make it up to you."

"And why's that? You know I don't do pity."

"This isn't pity, it's about me trying to steal your mom's cookie recipe," she answered truthfully.

"I think my mother would kill me if I revealed her secret ingredient but at the same time I'm pretty sure you've already made things up to me."

"And how's that exactly?"

"You took my mind off it, Caroline, you brought me back," he smiled gratefully. "But I'm a little worried about your cooking skills, just because you can sniff them out doesn't mean anything."

"Is that a challenge, Mikaelson? Because, just so you know I can go the distance."

"Funny that, so can I," he argued, albeit teasingly. Although not at the time, both would come to know that their words held a whole other meaning for the future to come.