AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello again, lovelies! Long time no post, right? Anyway. Here is my contribution to the KC New Year's Day Exchange for the darling, thatsanotherlovestory.
SUMMARY: Klaus and Caroline as adversarial corporate work colleagues. (Modern P&Pish/The Hating Game AU + All Human + social media + romcom tropes)
Bonus points to those of y'all who can spot which romcoms I borrowed from for this. Hope you like it, and happy 2020!
xx Ashlee Bree
For the past ten months, the routine has been this: Monday through Friday she avoids his eyes, claps back when he crosses a line at the office because it's only a matter of time before he does something rash and destructive and she has to help fix it - again. Saturday she ignores his emails and text messages. A bevy of unreads she collects like bills, like love letters. However, not because she wants them or anything but so she has an excuse to ream him for his you can't avoid the devil forever, sweetheart 😈 assholeness later. Like, come on, get a hobby. Or a girlfriend. Or a freaking life outside work already. Seriously. And Sunday…Sunday she reminds herself of all the reasons why he's the biggest pain in the ass she's ever met.
A right charming prick, really.
He's the kind of man who, with a natural blend of arrogance, genteel good looks, cunning, money and rapier's wit, knows just how to poke and pinch at every last nerve she harbors beneath her skin until she wants to scream. Until she does. Until she's cursing the name Klaus Mikaelson before her first cup of coffee in the morning and after her last sip of wine before bed at night.
To call him a colleague is a stretch for Caroline. A big one. Let alone a friend, at least not in the conventional sense.
They clash more often than they collaborate on anything, after all: with him demanding speed and severity when it comes to finding ways to cut their competitors off at the neck; and her countering with options that preserve dignity, that allow for diplomacy as well as smooth transitions of power that begin and end with a cordial handshake. Theirs' is a total conflict in tactic, in personality. A spark of opposition that means business—you know the type. It's ugly courtesy mixed with innuendo that slides into begrudging respect twenty-four hours a day, fifty-two weeks of the year.
They're opposites in every sense of the word, but it works.
Together they make for a surprisingly prosperous combination in the corporate world, and it's one that just so happens to help them rake in diverse clients on top of big bucks revenue.
So where Klaus snarls at almost everyone, Caroline beams. Likewise, where she's poised and reliable in the midst of a crisis, he rages. Sometimes throws things. Expensive things. Once or twice at people's heads, though that "rumor" lives in the Do Not Discuss Or Else vault with all of those shady concerns about certain members of his family.
Since she's neither short on smiles nor sociability either, it follows that he tends to be gruff in comparison. Or as most other employees like to whisper, as grouchy as a wealthy Brit has any right to be.
Needless to say then, the muscular tick along his jaw is a measure of his mood. It's a physical marker to watch for so one knows when it's okay to broach a sensitive topic with him or when it's smarter to bow out, zip it, lay low, waiting for a better time to tackle the issue at hand without any measure of solvency. Caroline's become an expert at dissecting it. That little quirk. She knows precisely what to look for. Figured it out in matter of weeks. Not to boast or anything.
(Hint: the key is in the rapidity with which the tick comes, its root cause. Next comes deducing how long it's likely to last. Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? Calculate the potential damages. Then follow up accordingly.)
So now she knows to attack in the evenings, negotiate in the afternoons, and relent in the mornings. She's learned what strategies to unleash on him and when.
Call it an Unwind the Big Bad Prick science, if you will. A crash course on all Mikaelson whims and asshole-isms.
The truth is Caroline's not afraid to provoke him. To rattle him. She never has been, never will be.
She'll call bullshit directly. to. his. smug. face. when he deserves a good tongue lashing or needs a simple lesson in civility, which just so happens to be much more often than one would think.
Summa cum laude honors, and unmatched organizational skills aside, she knows that's one of the reasons why the Mikaelson siblings had Klaus hire her in the first place. She's the hip check he needs. The temperate balance to his foul, distrusting moods and impulsivity.
There's an entire arsenal of cutting glares at her disposal for him now. A challenge that sits on the tilt of her nose when they arrive somewhere simultaneously, both intent on being the first in the room. It doesn't matter where it is, with whom they're meeting, or why. The point is to compete…to be the one who's holding the ace in her palm.
She aims to outsmart, outthink, and out win him in as many schemes as possible. In as many days, too, if she can swing it.
It's how Caroline has come to carry arguments in the strum of her fingers. Wear them in the slight curl of her upper lip when they disagree. Her hair flip's perfected, a real asset. A true silencer when she needs it to be. Like when he tries to pull rank or won't listen to logic at all. (Which, again, happens more frequently than it should. May even prompt an eye roll or two. Sometimes three - you know, if the chip on his shoulder starts to burnish gold and he downshifts into being ruthless and impossible again.)
Not to mention the fact that her verbal comebacks slap harder than Klaus's do since she smiles as she delivers them, the effect as disarming for him as it is satisfying for her—and oh, boy, can she sure deliver a line! Then watch as it lands like a whap across his cheek.
None of that has anything on the swivel of her heels, though. Or the sashay of her retreat which she enacts only once she's successfully shaved him down a peg or two, knocking his ego back down to planet earth where it belongs. At least for the rest of the day.
It's safe to expect that it'll be back in tact by tomorrow - it always is - but she still lives for the dimpled purse of his mouth, anyway. That rough swallow of his Adam's apple. The sag in his seat which precedes the defensive crossing of his arms that lets her know she's one-upped him, and he's impressed. Intrigued. Put out in a way that makes him borderline congratulatory…almost flirtatious, really.
(Except they can't stand each other so she brushes the latter thought into the back of her brain where it can asphyxiate and die. Like - as soon as possible.)
A backward wave of her hand is the only thing Caroline leaves behind as her red-soled heels click down the hallway afterwards. Headed back toward her own office. Sometimes she steers toward the elevators afterwards because it's late, because she now has something to gloat about on her ride home.
She prefers to abandon him when he's at her mercy like that: stunned, speechless, reeling, his head still turning over her last competitive taunt.
It makes him look boyish even though he's pushing thirty. Pleasantly caught. Not to mention a smidge more attractive than she wants him to be with those rumpled blond curls and abandoned tie, his sleeves cuffed up to the elbows.
Klaus seems to derive some kind of twisted satisfaction from the leveling of odds between them regardless. And why the hell not? So does she.
It's adrenalizing, plain and simple. A grin always seems to snake its way onto their faces at the same moment. Win or lose. Every time.
Wrapped up in their little game of professional chess, though, Caroline is too full of plans and spite to worry over what that zing she feels between them means.
Klaus is fond of endearments. And he uses them.
A lot.
They tend to be ridiculous at best, his pet names, downright inappropriate at worst. And he knows it. Designs it so, his grin stretching wider at the edges while he gauges her reaction to his latest assignations.
They slide off his tongue freely, suggestively, relentlessly, until they're an avalanche of "love," "queenie," "venomous cupcake," "Care-ella de Ville" monikers that fly in her direction more often than not as they go toe-to-toe over some work issue or find themselves cloistered together in the Brainstorm Wing, alone, far too long to be considered tolerable.
He talks and teases. She mostly ignores it because she's focused, determined - a freaking whiz at professionalism - though he does win a scoff every now and again over their electronics.
That's simply the way it is between them. How it's always been.
Occasionally Caroline will threaten to set his pants on fire or will offer to drown him in his most expensive bottle of bourbon for extra measure. Anything to shut him up. Anything to curb his persistent interruptions whenever they're up to their elbows in files, arguing, warding off a loss before an important meeting or a deadline. But it never works. It never sticks.
Seriously, nothing phases him.
The man is either impervious to rebuff of any sort or his encouragement hinges on the one stupid traitorous blush (one!) that seems to accompany any glare Caroline fires in his direction. (A weakness she's more than desperate to delete from her physiology.) His audacity is incredible to witness in person. Absolutely incredible.
Suspicion rankles in her gut because it's as if Klaus has no other targets even when there are other associates present, which doesn't make sense. It's just her. Just this. Just endless time and opportunity to pun her to death.
Talk about sucks!
Can't someone else be his designated prey instead? Why her? Why now? How'd she get to be so unlucky as to have to put up with him all the time?
Rifling through documents one evening in late November, forced to work in tandem per their boss and CEO, Elijah's, request, the two of them nibble on Chinese takeout and work. Bicker. Pour over contracts. Plot strategy in the B-wing late into the morning hours.
"I know you're loath to admit it, sunshine," Klaus says with a yawn after they concoct a one-two punch right as the clock strikes three; it's a killer solution on all fronts, "but you and I are good together. We make a formidable team."
"Oh, stop with that."
"Stop with what?"
"You know it annoys me," she frowns. "Come on."
"Annoys you? It was an observation, Caroline. I was under the impression those weren't illegal."
Tossing her iPad and color-coded notes aside, she runs a lazy hand through her hair before leveling him with a look, "I wasn't talking about the team comment and you know it."
"Weren't you?"
"No."
"Pity," Klaus says with a sigh and a stretch, raking her over while amusement dances in his rimmed eyes. "I'd hoped we were on the same page for once."
"Well, we're not."
"Clearly."
"An apology would be welcome at this juncture, you know. I'm open to hearing one," she suggests.
"An apology?" Caroline waits. Taps her monogrammed company pen on the table's ledge. He smirks before unhooking another button at his collar and angles closer. "For what?"
With a huff, "We've talked about this and you can't just—how dare you keep—I—"
"Yes?" Klaus doesn't say it but another endearment hangs from his smirking lips. It waits to shoot her way any second. "Go on then. State your grievance with me."
"There's no point."
"Why's that?"
"You already know what it is," she says.
"Do I now?"
Growing perturbed, she ignores the flutter in her belly under this intense scrutiny, his expression a mixture of steady, sarcastic, and softly admiring. "This whole conversation is ridiculous!"
"Fair point. Though, personally, I disagree."
"You…" she says, fighting back a blush and a laugh then shaking her head, "you are the actual worst."
"Funny. That almost sounds like a compliment."
"It wasn't meant as one."
"Perhaps not, sunshine," he dimples, slumping back casually before interlocking his fingers behind his head, and sighs, "but I'll take it as such anyway. Just this once."
Caroline scowls. Flattens her lips. Mumbles something about "endearment harassment." Resists another blush as well as the urge to strangle him before the paperwork for this deal is done.
Instead she decides to re-send him the Merriam Webster definitions of impertinent and dickhead from her phone again—you know, for clarity's sake. Then she asks demurely, all eyelashes, her hands folded flat, if Satan has happened to set the date for his coronation into hell yet.
"Why?" Leaning over the armrest with his chair wheels squeaking against the floor, Klaus is all cheek and attentiveness and spicy cologne. "Care to be my escort for the big event?" he says without missing a beat.
With a snort, "In your dreams, Mikaelson. But so help me, if you don't knock it off and focus so we can finish preparing for this meeting tomorrow, then I promise I'll find a way for the devil to come and collect you early himself. Got it?"
"Sure thing," he nods. "Can't have you wanting to push me off the roof later now, can I?"
"Who's to say I'm not already tempted?" Caroline mumbles.
He swivels to face her, all levity, with one eyebrow raised. Meanwhile she focuses on organizing their files into separate stacks. "Are you?" he says.
Shrugging, "I wouldn't push it any further if I were you. Better to be silent but productive than flippant and airborne, don't you think?"
A chuckle. A soft press of his palm over her wrist.
"Well played, love. I don't know if hearing that leaves me feeling more wounded or paranoid, but…well played."
Warm, certain, Klaus's touch lingers far too long after he draws away.
—Archived Twitter messages from FIERCE AND WE KNOW IT SQUAD group chat on December 5th, 10:42 P.M.
thiskatRAWRS : i said find his celebrity doppelgänger for us, caroline. wtf !
crowned caroline: i did
thiskatRAWRS: no, you defected. like a coward
crowned caroline: did not!
thiskatRAWRS: did too
thiskatRAWRS: besides, i think we both know there's a better selection to be had here
enzobites: oh - this outta be good, lusty (or is it katTHRUSTY now?)
thiskatRAWRS: *middle finger emoji*
crowned caroline: ugh. don't provoke her, okay?
enzobites: bugger me for wondering at Elijah's reaction to his ladylove's ranking + assessment
enzobites: of
enzobites: his
enzobites: younger
enzobites: brother's
enzobites: sex
enzobites: appeal
thiskatRAWRS: i still have eyes, don't i? just gotta keep my hands to myself. not that it's anyone's business but mine and Elijah's if i do or do not 😼
enzobites: …and you wonder why you were reassigned from HR, love
thiskatRAWRS: *double middle finger emoji*
bonnie-b-is-me: Kat told me Klaus has an up-to-no-good Jude Law look about him. is that semi-accurate, Care?
bonnie-b-is-me: (me = works elsewhere = totes out of loop) :(
crowned caroline: nope
crowned caroline: i stand by my original choice
bonnie-b-is-me: which was?
crowned caroline: *inserts internet meme*
bonnie-b-is-me: 😯
enzobites: wut…why Grumpy Cat?
thiskatRAWRS: i told you ^^^ doesn't count, pick a human
crowned caroline: but the resemblance is astounding! it's uncanny, really
crowned caroline: look here, i'll prove it further: *inserts another three memes, one with a side-by-side photo comparison*
enzobites: wicked Santa hat there, Klausy
bonnie-b-is-me: lmao
crowned caroline: Klaus is literally Grumpy Cat in human form bc 1) he's surly 2) he's miserable and repressed af 3) he's one explosive hiss away from taking another corporate life at all times
bonnie-b-is-me: so let him be known, 4eva more, as Grumpy Corporate Klaus
enzobites: i dig it
enzobites: GCK ftw then, yea? ;)
crowned caroline: 👍
thiskatRAWRS: sorry, but all i'm getting from care's explanation is "overlooked sex kitten" vibes. so if that's how you view Klaus then idk how to break this to you, girl, but…
enzobites: BOW CHICKA WOW WOW
thiskatRAWRS: exactly ! one of them is gonna pounce on the other before long—ruffled feathers and all of that meowww
bonnie-b-is-me: bets, anyone?
enzobites: count me in, gorgeous ;)
thiskatRAWRS: ditto
crowned caroline: OMG SHUT UP ALL OF YOU
bonnie-b-is-me: did either of you hear something?
thiskatRAWRS: sounds like denial chirping to me
enzobites: or uh…hate could be their preferred foreplay
crowned caroline: THIS ISN'T FUNNY
bonnie-b-is-me: wouldn't be the first time
thiskatRAWRS: and def not the last !
bonnie-b-is-me: *inserts YouTube link to "Dangerous Woman" by Ariana Grande*
crowned caroline: WHERE IS THIS COMING FROM? I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS, WTF
thiskatRAWRS: *inserts "You Can't Handle the Truth" gif*
enzobites: from the way Klaus verbally paws at Blondie here in the office, to the longing look in his eyes when she speaks (or flirts) with any good-looking bloke who isn't him, i wager it's only a matter of time before—
crowned caroline has left the chat
A natural curiosity is there, of course. Call it a fatal flaw. A susceptibility. Whatever.
She's only human.
No use in haranguing her about it forever, you know?
It's a passing thought or two when the workload is mounting, when Caroline's eyes blur numbers into scratchy colors of highlighter and her days are spun into spools of navy blue suits and unsigned contracts and poorly worded emails and coffee cart lattes plus beignets which she needs to keep her standing upright for another few hours or else she'll peter out mid-sentence, toppling into the nearest chair; only to then find what she craves deposited, like a gift from the gods, onto her desk the exact instant she feels herself deflating into putty. No evidence at all that someone had been there. Not an item out of place. No note attached anywhere.
There's also that prickle against the base of her neck sometimes. A tingle of awareness that tells her Klaus is either close by or he's peering at her through the glass walls again, idly. Watching her with some soft and introspective intensity Caroline doesn't understand let alone question thoroughly.
It's a collection of moments.
Looks.
Coincidences.
Things that happen by accident because their schedules align - because, for example, they're seated side-by-side on their way to the New Orleans airport one afternoon to catch a flight back home after closing Gerard Enterprises when the car swerves. The driver's caught in a blast of turbulent traffic, and without thinking, she crosses the invisible boundary between them to curl against his side, her fingers fisting in his unworn seatbelt. Her head tucks against his clavicle, her eyelashes flicking over the buttons on his shirt. Their breaths heavy but in time.
"Are you alright, love? Are you hurt?" Klaus asks, his mouth burring like an ember against her crown of golden hair.
"I'm okay," she breathes. In then out. In then out. "Just a little toppled and caught unawares is all," she adds as his pulse slows beneath her ear, his hand hot on her bicep. "You?"
"Heart in my stomach, woman in my arms, so otherwise fine."
"Good."
"Yes - quite."
Then there are the private conversations Caroline overhears. Like the one where he informs a slimy potential de Martel client the two of them are "a package deal" and that she is "not one to be trifled with, disrespected, or undervalued." Or another where he confesses to his sister, Rebekah, that they'd "be bloody lost without her here."
It's how, any time they cross the street together, Klaus's hand presses against the small of her back as if he wishes to offer another layer of protection. Almost like it belongs there.
It's when, after a bout of flu descends like a hammer, leaving her phlegmy, feverish for days, and unable to work, a knock sounds at her door to reveal him standing on the other side. Looking sheepish, a shopping bag full of get well tea and medicinal items hangs from one of his arms while chicken noodle soup is Tupperwared in the other. To top it all off a fresh bouquet of sunflowers perches in the crook of his elbow, which he places in a vase with water before he leaves so she can rest. So she can recover her strength and faculties.
And even though everyone at the office whispers that Klaus only cares about himself, and about what comforts he can afford, Caroline knows he pays the secretaries' bonuses directly out of his own pocket. He also offers use of his car service when the hour is late or the weather gets too dicey to walk to the subway, so he can't possibly be that awful, can he? Can he?
These passing thoughts accrue over days, hours, weeks, to leave an imprint large enough to make her wonder. To have her questioning their so-called triviality.
Caroline hates to think it but - freaking hell - what if her friends are right? Is the in like vs. in spite line between her and Klaus really that thin, or is she only now realizing to admit so will change everything in ways she cannot begin to fathom?
Swipe left to descend into Emoville✔️
Swipe right for Distraction City✔️
(Both options suck equally for her, as it turns out.) (So she guilts Enzo into paying for drinks for the next three Saturdays and processes in true Forbes fashion: with lists a'plenty.)
I wish the holiday season hadn't been so crazy and I'd had time to write more for this universe before the deadline, but, alas, such is the story of my life. I may be tempted to add another part or two to this.
Thoughts? Comments are lovely.
Thanks for reading!