The Fall Festival (Prequel)

(For klarosummerbingo. Prompt: neighborhood block party. This one is a prequel to Sweet As found in Chapter 129 aka the one where Caroline is a Dryad and Klaus the leader of the werewolf pack in a quirky small town. Rated T)

Before he'd met Caroline, Klaus' mornings had fallen into a predictable pattern.

He would wake up at the same time, wander into his kitchen to find a full pot of coffee and a pack member or two. Occasionally, there was an emergency. Sometimes there was an issue where his opinion was wanted. Most often, his visitors would come with a problem that could have been solved without Klaus' input, though he'd never complained.

Klaus had been an outsider once, had become pack leader when the father he'd never known had died, and Marcel had shown up at his door in Chicago. At the time, Klaus had resented the disruption to his life.

Now, he doesn't understand how he'd survived so long, locking himself in a cage every month.

His mother had explained his parentage when he'd turned twelve, and it had been revelatory, explained why he'd always struggled to wield even a hint of the power that came naturally to his siblings. Esther had told him what to expect, that he'd be dangerous, but she'd refused to tell Klaus anything about the man who'd passed him the werewolf genes, hadn't even supplied a name.

The rift in their relationship had begun there, had only widened since. When Klaus had chosen to accept his birthright, he'd ensured he'd never be welcome in the home he'd grown up in. He'd never regretted it.

Most of his siblings happily defy their parents to visit, and the pack had become another sort of family.

Three months after Caroline had opened her shop, Klaus had trekked out into the forest to deal with one of the rare emergencies. A scent had been picked up on a security run two days prior, of a young, unfamiliar wolf.

A wolf who proved to have a gift for hiding.

Klaus and his inner circle had been trying to track the interloper, had to find them before the next full moon. His pack had long-standing agreements with the humans and the various local supernatural sects. A young wolf could have jeopardized the easy peace the town enjoyed without meaning to. Klaus and his pack would have had to pay the price.

Young wolves could not always assert human will over animal instincts, which could be deadly if any prey crossed their paths.

And to a werewolf, just about anyone can be prey.

That morning Klaus had decided to head west to an area of that woods that was dense with trees and wildlife. His pack usually leaves it be, understanding that there would be objections if they were to start messing with the local ecosystems. Besides, it offers little opportunity to run, something a werewolf is always eager to do when given a chance.

He'd been moving slowly and silently, examining the ground for prints that looked similar to the ones they believe belong to the young wolf. He'd frequently paused to see if he could pick up a scent, but he'd grown distracted.

Klaus had come across a grove of trees emanating a strange warmth. Curious, he'd rested his hand on the trunk of one.

Only to have the rough bark shiver under his touch and melt away, growing soft and smooth and scented of cherries and spice rather than earth.

He'd snatched his hand back and turned away as soon as he'd realized what was happening, had awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and wondered if it would be cowardly to flee. He'd heard rustling, soft footsteps, the glide of fabric over skin. Then a woman's voice, dripping with amusement, "You can turn around now. I'm dressed."

Klaus had turned slowly. "My apologies. I was unaware I was trespassing." He'd averted his eyes, realizing that "dressed" wasn't entirely accurate. The woman had only slipped on a robe, a pale green confection of a garment made from silk and lace, loosely belted and short. He'd looked closely enough to realize she was gorgeous, with a riotous mess of blonde curls framing a flushed face and friendly, curious blue eyes.

His body had reacted, and Klaus had forced himself to begin breathing through his mouth. Her scent had clouded his thoughts, tempted him to step closer.

He hadn't understood what was happening, why he was reacting so strongly to a stranger.

Klaus might have grown particular about who he invited into his bed, but he was hardly inexperienced or prone to awkwardness in the presence of beautiful women.

He'd gone a little wild when he'd become pack leader five years ago, had freely partaken in pleasure just about any time it was offered. Offers were still coming, but Klaus had largely lost interest, leery of complications that could occur with attachments. At the time, he'd only occasionally indulged when an alluring visitor caught his eyes.

Which hadn't happened in months.

Why was this woman, not even a wolf, so very compelling?

When he'd clasped his hands behind his back and carefully fixed his attention to just above her forehead, she'd made a noise, an aborted laugh. "Wow, never met a shy werewolf before. You guys are usually super quick to get naked."

Klaus' eyes had swung to hers, shocked and a touch suspicious, "How do you know I'm a werewolf?"

Her head had tilted towards the trees, "It's hard to explain. When I'm in that form, connected to the ground, there's a heightened amount of intuition. Most supernatural beings pull power from some variety of natural elements, and I can usually tell which one, feel the energy."

"You're a dryad," he'd said slowly. He'd remembered reading about them as a child, in one of his mother's books. An old, thick tome, with tiny print, that detailed the origin stories of all the known species that walked the earth. He hadn't recalled much more than the basics, had made a mental note to check if the library in his home had a similar volume.

"Guilty," she'd chirped. She'd held out her hand, "Caroline Forbes. I bought the bakery in town a couple of months ago. You should stop by sometime."

He'd shaken her hand, that contact enough to ensure Caroline would never stray from Klaus' thoughts for long.

That brief brush of her skin on his had spurred a change in Klaus' morning pattern.

He'd visited Caroline's bakery the next day. Had rolled out of bed, earlier than he had since he'd been obligated to attend morning meetings, and driven to town. Caroline's business had been easy to spot, featuring a cheerful striped awning in the same shade of green of the robe Klaus had spent far too many minutes contemplating.

He'd slid into a booth shortly after Caroline had opened up. She'd noticed him, appeared pleased to see him and wiggled her fingers in greeting.

And thus began a new routine.

Caroline smiles at Klaus as soon as he arrives. His face immediately grows suspicious.

Oops. She might have overdone it. Klaus is weirdly adept at spotting ulterior motives, and Caroline needs a teeny, tiny favor.

Which is not to say that she doesn't look forward to his morning visits. More often than not, they're the highlight of her day. She happens to have gotten a delivery late yesterday afternoon, one that's essential to pulling off something she's been working on for ages, so she's particularly excited about it. She needs to borrow Klaus' artistic skills to realize her vision.

That she'll get to spend a little extra time with him is just a bonus.

He walks up to the counter and leans against it. "You look like you're plotting something."

She tilts her head to the side, uses her sweetest tone, "Don't you think it's a little early to be accusing me of such a thing?"

She spots the twitch at the corner of his mouth though he maintains an impressively deadpan expression. "Honestly, I suspect you're usually plotting something."

Caroline had to give him that one, "Okay, true. I might need a hand from someone who's more artistically inclined than I am. AKA you."

"What can I do for you?"

She smiles again, kind of glad that there's a counter between them because Klaus' lack of hesitation has her feeling all sorts of fuzzy things, and she very well might have thrown herself at him.

Which is not a thing that they do, though she's hoping that changes at some point.

"I bought some lights and paint for the window. I splurged on it because it's supposed to be really pretty, kind of sheer, and shimmery. I was hoping to paint some leaves and vines around the borders of the window, but my test runs were… subpar."

"Still a bit upset about the Summer Solstice party then?"

Caroline glares without any real ire, "Shh. You know that's a sore subject!"

She'd been woefully unprepared for just how serious the town took its celebrations. The Summer Solstice had been her first one. She'd nailed the food, had baked up tiny, fluffy meringues, served them with a vanilla peach compote, topped with fresh whipped cream and toasted almonds. Everyone had raved about them. But a few people – mostly the members of the town council who are generally unpleasant and excessively gossipy, in Caroline's not at all biased opinion – had made snide remarks about her lack of decorations.

She'd been mortified even though it totally hadn't been her fault. She'd miscalculated, not yet grasping just freaking slow the mail was. She'd had a ton of fresh flowers, but the paper lanterns and candy-colored trays and linens she'd ordered had arrived two days too late.

Caroline's determined to do better this time and prove that party planning is her super-power, damn it.

Klaus is shrugging out of his jacket, "Show me to the supplies, love."

"You're the best!" she exclaims, reaching over to flip up the top of the counter. "Come on, it's all in my office. Along with my very bad diagrams but feel free only to use them as a guideline. Far be it for little 'ol me to tell a professional artiste what to paint."

"Willing to cede control?" he teases. "Shocking."

Caroline shrugs, "Guess I must trust you."

Whoops. Caroline means it, but it's a weighty thing to say.

Klaus has stepped passed the counter, bent to stash his jacket underneath. He freezes, head bowing before he up back at her. "I'm pleased to hear that," he replies.

Caroline's teeth sink into her lower lip, and she glances around. A few people are watching her curiously and, though she hates it, she knows now is not the time to dig into anything serious.

Though she's not sure how much longer she'll be able to resist.

Caroline clears her throat, heading to her office. She unlocks the door, stepping back to gesture Klaus go in first. She turns around to check that April's come out from the kitchen, motions that she'll be back out in ten, and then she joins Klaus.

He's eyeing the sofa, "How often do you sleep here, sweetheart?"

"How do you… oh, right. Werewolf."

Caroline's pretty careful not to think about Klaus' senses. Intellectually she knows he can probably sniff out all sorts of secrets, that the way she reacts to him is entirely unsubtle. She lives in purposeful denial to avoid melting into a puddle of mortification.

"Rarely. I did it a lot when I was scrambling to get this place opened. Now it's pretty much just the night of the full moon, or the odd day when there's a big complicated order."

"Why the full moon?"

Caroline snorts, "Has it escaped your notice that you guys pack away a ton of food after the full moon? It's my most profitable day of the month."

She leans down and hefts the box of paint. Klaus steps forward, "Here, let me."

Caroline lets him take it off her hands, "You know I'm probably at least as strong as you are, right?"

"I had read that, yes." His eyes flit over her speculatively, and not for the first time in his presence, she thinks about how nice it would be if telepathy were in her bag of tricks. She knows what she hopes he's thinking. Caroline's been spinning fantasies that run the gamut from sweet and sensual to hot and frantic since Klaus first wandered into her grove. She's pretty confident her interest is reciprocated, but he gives her mixed signals.

Caroline's naturally tactile. She tends to crank that up when she's in flirt mode. Klaus is careful to stay at a polite distance. He doesn't cringe when she touches him, but he doesn't touch her back either.

It's confusing.

Caroline had gotten tipsy and whiny about the situation last weekend at the bar. Bonnie had been sympathetic and knowing, refused to spill what she clearly knew. Bonnie had only said, in that infuriatingly cryptic way witches have, that Caroline would figure it out when the time was right.

She and Bonnie haven't known each other long, but Caroline had sensed she wouldn't budge. She'd pouted until Enzo had arrived with shots.

Things had gotten a little hazy after that.

"Ah, so you're just gentlemanly?" Caroline teases, watching as Klaus sets the box on her desk. He's focused on it, so she takes the opportunity to ogle a little. His grey t-shirt is thin and snug. She's going to be thinking about the way his muscles shift underneath it when she's alone.

"Something like that."

"Well, never let it be said that Caroline Forbes doesn't pay her debts. I'll save you a bunch of the desserts I'm making for the festival. I've perfected them over the last few days – pumpkin with pecan crumble, a delicious marriage of the best fall pies."

He shakes his head, a laugh rumbling from low in his throat. "Sounds delicious. Perhaps you'll save me a dance? There's always a bonfire once the shops close down."

Huh. That seems like an unmistakable signal. One Caroline hadn't expected.

She swallows her initial instinct, the urge to joke about how Klaus must have decided she doesn't have cooties after all. Caroline licks her lips, wonders if he can hear that her heartbeat has quickened. "I'll make sure my dance card has a spot for you."

Klaus finds Marcel in the living room when he comes downstairs on the night of the fall festival. He stops short, dread growing in his stomach. He'd spoken to Marcel earlier, and he hadn't mentioned stopping by. "What happened?"

Marcel's eyes narrow, "Is that a new sweater?"

Klaus doesn't understand how that's relevant to Marcel's presence in his home.

He lifts his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for an answer to his question. Marcel grins, "Alright, not in a talkative mood. Heard. No disaster, don't worry. I added an extra few cases of wine to the regular order last month, remember? Just here to grab them for the festival."

Right. The pack operates several businesses but nothing with a storefront in town. On festival nights, the shops on Main Street decorate and offer free food or small gifts to anyone who wanders in. The town council covers the food available in the square, and Klaus' pack supplies a significant portion of the booze (only fair since Klaus is quite sure they partake more than most). For this one, if he remembers correctly, they're providing mulled wine and spiked hot chocolate while Enzo's bar will set up kegs.

Klaus nods, relaxing. He glances at the clock on the wall. "I trust you can handle the delivery yourself?"

"Why, got a hot date? I don't remember you ever doing much more than making an appearance at one of these things. This eagerness to arrive early is interesting."

Marcel sounds far too knowing. To an extent, as the pack's second in command, it's his job to know Klaus' business. He suspects what Caroline means to Klaus, that his wolf has chosen her, but Klaus has never confirmed it.

He's been resisting the pull, exerting iron control over his instincts, maintaining a careful amount of distance even when he ached to return her affectionate overtures. And it's not because he doesn't want her, but because the bond is permanent. Unbreakable, once it's solidified.

Klaus' path is set. Caroline's not bound by the same magic, not unless she wants to be.

"Obviously you have this under control," Klaus says, spinning on his heel. "Lock the door when you leave."

Marcel's laughter follows him out of the house.

Caroline's nervous. More nervous than she's ever been before a date, and it's not even a date. She'd selected her outfit carefully. Her cream sweater dress has a wide neckline that's prone to slipping off her shoulders. She'd selected dark tights for underneath and thigh-high boots, which are saved from being too risqué for a family-friendly event by their minimal heel.

She's been getting compliments all evening, had smiled politely. She'd picked the outfit with one person in mind.

At nine, Caroline locks up, rushing into her office to let her hair down and touch up her makeup. A tap on the window comes at 9:06. She tucks a curl behind her ear, takes a deep breath, "You are not fifteen. Get it together," she mutters to herself before she flicks off the lights.

She waves at Klaus through the window, grabs the small box where she'd packed up the portion of tartlets she'd saved for him and her keys.

Main Street is brighter than usual, street lamps lit and wrapped with strands of tiny white lights. Caroline steps outside, her eyes running over Klaus. He's changed since this morning into darker jeans and a navy sweater. Is it a date outfit? She kinda thinks so.

"Hi," Caroline says, impressed it's not a squeak. She doesn't trust herself to open with a compliment about how he looks – her brain-to-mouth filter is unreliable even when she's calm, cool, and collected. Instead, she gestures to the windows, "Your paintings were a hit."

Klaus doesn't seem to hear her. He swallows heavily. "You look…" he trails off, but Caroline's not an idiot. She knows exactly what the tiny ring of gold around his irises means.

Caroline's grateful for the confirmation that her attraction isn't at all one-sided. Her cheeks heat, "What, this old thing?"

He reaches for her, and Caroline's heart stutters, mouth going dry. It's the first time Klaus has made any sort of move, and it feels like the start of something she'll want to remember.

Though she's not capable of explaining that certainty at the moment. Caroline can't claim to have a quiet mind, she's capable of laser focus, but there's usually a whole list of thoughts and questions in the background, each clamoring for attention.

Right now, there's only Klaus and the shrinking distance between their bodies.

His palm lands on her upper arm, warm even through her sweater. His fingers tighten, skimming down, lingering when they meet the bare skin of her wrist before his palm meets hers.

She exhales shakily, returning the pressure. Caroline sways forward until her knees brush Klaus', and his free hand clasps hers. He leans forward, and the hint of stubble on his face rasps against her cheek. "You are overwhelmingly lovely," he murmurs, mouth brushing her temple.

Caroline's lips part, and she's seconds away from turning her head and rising to her toes when Klaus takes a half step away. He pivots until they stand shoulder to shoulder. He keeps one of her hands, and Caroline follows his lead when he begins to walk towards the town's center.

She barely registers her surroundings, couldn't name any of the people they pass or describe the decorations. She only feels Klaus' hand, the solid strength of him next to her, is only aware of the addictive mix of comfort and anticipation fizzing through her veins.

He pulls her into his arms when they reach the makeshift dancefloor next to the bonfire.

It doesn't feel like a first dance.

There's no awkward shuffling or hesitant hand placement. Klaus' grip on her changes, fingers threading between hers, and he wraps his arm around her waist. Caroline's body melts into Klaus', her hand rising to rest against his chest. She shivers when his head dips, his breath skimming across her bare shoulder.

There's music, but it's not important. She and Klaus move together seamlessly, closer than they probably should be in public, lost in their own world.

No one dares to disturb them.