Another Shot of Courage
(For klarosummerbingo. The prompt was "Eager Backstage Groupie." Title from "Tequila Sunrise" by The Eagles. Rated T).
Saturday, May 1st, 8:16 AM
Caroline wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, in the little black dress she'd worn to Kat's birthday party, with a headache and a foul-tasting mouth. She's sprawled in the middle of a very large mattress, so the first thing Caroline does is explore. She stretches her arms out tentatively, expecting to poke someone (hopefully an unobjectionable someone) awake.
She appears to be alone, and Caroline relaxes into the fluffy pillows. She wiggles experimentally, satisfied when her bra and underwear dig into uncomfortable areas and gives in to the temptation to burrow under the duvet.
She just needs a minute to regret her life choices before she confronts them. Caroline sighs, stretches, and her fuzzy head begins to clear, memories sharpening.
And yikes.
Can she stay in her self-made blanket fort forever? A lot of her conduct last night had been irrational, some of it downright hypocritical. She is a public relations professional, highly sought after. Her clients pay many pretty pennies for her services.
Had she seriously mauled Klaus Mikaelson in one of the trendiest clubs in LA?
Caroline tugs down the blanket, intent on confirming her suspicions, allowing her to look around and study the room with new eyes.
There's a brick fireplace at the end of the bed, a wide armchair in front of it – not particularly revealing. Her eyes flick to the left. There's nothing, but dark curtains pulled tight over a wall of windows.
When she looks to the right, there's a smoking gun. Well, kind of. It's a drafting table, an easel, and shelves featuring paintbrushes, haphazardly stacked sketchbooks, and a bunch of other things that Caroline doesn't currently have the brainpower to identify.
She considers slipping out of bed and checking to see if those curtains cover any kind of door. She thinks it's logical to assume so. She's only been to Klaus' home a few times, tries to insist they meet at her office. She's never ventured far beyond the kitchen and living rooms, but it's a Spanish-style bungalow on a sprawling lot. Why wouldn't he have a walk out into the yard from his bedroom?
She discards the idea with some regret. Running away without a word is a coward's move and would probably backfire. Klaus is still her client, whatever psychosis had gripped Caroline last night, and it's not like she could dump him via email at this point. He's got a huge movie coming in three weeks, and they're flying to London tomorrow to begin the premiere tour. She could probably pass it on to another publicist, but she'd still be on the hook, would have to coordinate her plans long-distance.
Selfishly, Caroline hopes that's not necessary. She'd hate for someone else to reap the benefits of her hard work.
She heaves herself into a sitting position, wincing when her head throbs. Her stomach seems solid, with no hint of queasiness, so that's a plus. Caroline tosses the covers aside, shifts until her legs slide over the side of the bed. She catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror through the open closet door and cringes.
She'd done an excellent smoky eye last night, and it's migrated all over her face. She doesn't even want to consider how long it's going to take to detangle her hair. She decides she can wait a bit to hunt down Klaus, stepping forward and twisting the knob on the closed door. "Jackpot," Caroline mutters, walking into Klaus' bathroom. There's a stack of towels on the counter, and she figures it won't hurt to take a shower.
She'd had her tongue in his mouth and had apparently kicked him out of his bed, so what's one more presumption?
Friday, April 30th, 10:47 PM
In the VIP lounge Kat had rented, elevated above the main dance floor, Caroline waves away a shot of tequila. She'd had one during the birthday toast, wine at dinner. Had just ordered an overpriced cocktail. She's pleasantly tipsy but needs to pace herself because she can't get too drunk tonight.
Besides, Caroline and tequila have a complicated relationship.
Kat boos her, a few of the other girls joining in. Caroline laughs, "I know, I'm boring. I have a million things to do tomorrow to make sure I'm ready to live out of a suitcase for weeks."
Katherine scoffs, "Just make Klaus buy you anything you forget. What good is a guy who's hot for you and makes big fat superhero movie paychecks if he won't buy you pretty things?"
They've discussed this a bajillion times. Caroline has actually run away from this exact conversation, shouting nonsense syllables, with her fingers jammed in her ear, as if she and Katherine still fight over Barbies and who gets to wear dress-up trunk's best princess dress.
Caroline still can't resist arguing – it's a character flaw. "He's my client. That's it."
"Oh, please. Men in this town bone their clients all the time."
"That doesn't make it okay!"
Usually, this is the part where Katherine tries to convince her that Klaus is dying to be boned – her words, not Caroline's – but she gets distracted, squinting across the bar. Kat's lips curl, expression growing sly, "It appears my argument is moot."
Um, what? Katherine's literally never backed down from an argument in the twenty-plus years they've been friends. Puzzled, Caroline turns, trying to see what caught Kat's attention.
The club features several VIP lounges, each located at the top of a short staircase and decorated with wide velvet sofas and crystal chandeliers. There's an attendant who keeps booze and food flowing. It's clever – the sofas are inviting and squishy, tend to force people close together. The chandeliers ensure that anyone who happens to take a picture can get a decent shot, and the free flow of liquor has lowered the inhibitions of at least half a dozen celebrities, resulting in photos that send the gossip blogs into a tizzy as soon as they hit the internet.
When Caroline spots Klaus across the way, a redheaded model sprawled in his lap, she's immediately fuming.
"Looks like he got tired of waiting," Kat drawls. "Wanna reconsider the tequila?"
"Katherine. I love you. But zip it."
Katherine makes a face but leaves Caroline alone, turning to another one of their friends and asking a question. Caroline takes a deep breath, counts to ten.
She'd busted her ass to make him appear family-friendly enough to land the movie with the very PR-conscious studio that had netted him the big fat checks Katherine had just been crowing over. He's jeopardizing that on the eve of the most significant press tour of his career.
She looks over again, leaning forward. The redhead's moved away, she's sitting at Klaus' side, and they now appear to be merely engaged in conversation. Caroline does her best to think like a photographer – is there an angle that could make the scene look tawdry?
Probably not. So really, Klaus isn't jeopardizing anything.
Caroline's anger doesn't cool at the revelation.
She's so screwed.
She's on her feet before she decides to be, stalking down the stairs. She hears Katherine yelling borderline lewd encouragement at her back, but Caroline knows better than to take her advice.
She's marching over to diffuse, not inflame.
Hopefully.
Saturday, May 1st, 9:01 AM
She finds Klaus in his living room, asleep, his legs hanging awkwardly over the arm of a too-short couch, his torso twisted so awkwardly that Caroline's back twinges sympathetically. With the confirmation that she had stolen his bed, more of Caroline's irritation fades. The shower had helped, as had the bottle of water she'd guzzled and the three Tylenol she'd popped.
She takes a seat on his coffee table, setting down her second bottle of water. Caroline reaches out, shaking his shoulder gently. "Klaus," she murmurs when he begins to stir. "Wake up."
She could probably leave him to sleep. Klaus' stylist will handle most of his packing; he's borrowed a dizzying volume of outfits and accessories for Klaus to wear on this trip. The announcement won't come for another two weeks, but Klaus is shooting a Dior cologne ad once his press obligations wrap. The brand had requested he start wearing the newest line. Caroline had attended the last fitting, and she'd had a hard time keeping her blatant ogling under wraps.
Klaus looks good in ratty jeans, in a suit tailored to his measurements? Just about anyone attracted to men would have struggled not to appreciate the sight.
That's how Caroline had justified letting her emails pile up that afternoon.
She'd been a little worried about her control slipping on this trip, once they were alone in the hotel, and Klaus dropped the shiny, press-perfect façade he's learned to maintain. Caroline had designed that mask to appeal to the broadest possible audience. Doing interview prep has unfortunately only emphasized how much more she likes Klaus without it.
Klaus stretches, eyes fluttering open. "Good morning," he murmurs, voice husky with sleep. "I hope you slept better than I did."
Caroline winces, "Don't you have a guest room or two you could have shoved me in?"
He smiles lazily, "You were quite insistent on touring my bedroom."
Her eyes slam shut, face heating, "And that is why I don't drink tequila unsupervised," she grumbles.
He laughs, sitting up, his legs bracketing hers. He reaches for her water bottle and helps himself to a sip. Caroline leans back, fishing the Tylenol out of the pocket of the hoodie she'd stolen from his closet. She'd needed something bulkier to hide the fact she hadn't been able to convince herself to strap her bra back on. "Do you want these?" she asks, rattling the bottle.
Klaus shakes his head, "I'm not hungover. I didn't drink at all, and you stole that shot of tequila that was meant for me, remember?"
Ohhh no. She'd forgotten about that. She'd stolen his and the model's.
Which, in hindsight, goes a long way to explaining what had happened after. Caroline's problem with tequila is that once she starts, she has a hard time stopping. It heightens her usually non-existent impulsive streak, leads to sub-par decisions.
Occasionally, tequila does make her clothes fall off.
Caroline buries her hands in her face, wishing she hadn't tied her hair back. She's mortified, probably growing splotchy. "I am so sorry," she mutters.
Klaus sighs, tries to tug her hands away. Caroline resists, tensing her muscles, wishes she'd gone with her first instinct and fled out the backdoor. He rests his hands on her knees, squeezing, voice dipping into coaxing tones. "No apology necessary. I'm not the least bit upset."
Unfortunately, Caroline's totally up to the task of being upset enough for the both of them.
Friday, April 30th, 10:53 PM
Once the attendant in Klaus VIP area confirms that he does know Caroline and lets her up the stairs, Klaus has managed to increase the distance between his body and the model's. He seems pleased to see her, grabbing her hand and tugging her to sit next to him on the couch.
Close enough that they're connected thigh to shoulder.
The model, whose name Caroline doesn't particularly care about, is less welcoming. She glares daggers at Caroline's hand, still enclosed in Klaus'. He makes polite introductions. "Genevieve, this is my publicist and very good friend, Caroline Forbes. Caroline, Genevieve. She's a friend of Kol's."
Klaus' younger brother is also an actor, still firmly in the throes of his wild child phase. Caroline finds him entertaining, despite her best intentions, but he's known to delight in making her job more complicated. She glances around suspiciously, "Is Kol here?"
Klaus gestures vaguely to the dance floor. "Somewhere. He dragged me out to celebrate a pilot he booked, then disappeared."
Hmm, that could lead to disaster. Caroline wonders if she should shoot his publicist a text as a professional courtesy.
Caroline smiles at Genevieve sharply, "So sweet of you to keep Klaus company." It's mean, but Caroline wonders if Genevieve has somehow heard about Klaus' Dior deal through the grapevine. Maybe she's aiming for a co-starring role – Caroline's read the treatment for the commercial; it's supposed to be streamy.
Oh, good lord, High School Caroline has somehow time traveled and taken over her body.
Genevieve pastes on an equally fake smile (at least Caroline's not the only one regressing). Before she can snipe back, a silver tray is set in front of them, two shots resting on it. The attendant catches Caroline's eye, "Can I get you anything, Miss?"
Klaus interrupts, squeezes her hand in an absent apology, "Sorry, there must be some mistake. I ordered a water."
He's contractually obligated to maintain a ridiculously chiseled body. Caroline's got a reminder in her phone to order him a pile of celebratory spaghetti after his press obligations are officially over and he can relax for a few months.
The attendant's eyes flit to Genevieve in confusion, "I…"
"I cancelled that," she chirps, sliding her hand up Klaus' arm. Genevieve leans in, tone lowering to what Caroline thinks is supposed to be a seductive level. "Figured we would toast."
Caroline catches it because she's practically plastered to Klaus' other side. "Who toasts with tequila?" she asks. "Other than creeps at bars, I mean."
Had Caroline not been well acquainted with Katherine Pierce, she might have been intimidated by Genevieve's attempt at a lethal glare.
Caroline stares back, reaching blindly for the first shot. She tosses it back, then the second, fighting the shudder that wants to wrack her frame through sheer willpower alone.
"Bitch," Genevieve mutters, standing and flouncing away.
It's petty, but Caroline savors her win.
Klaus is staring at her oddly, a touch concerned. "Maybe we should get you some water, love."
Saturday, May 1st, 9:04 AM
"There were more shots when I got back to Kat's party," Caroline moans. "I'm going to kill her. She knows my weaknesses."
"While I am reluctant to defend your irritating friend, she did seem rather intent on her fun. It was her birthday, wasn't it?"
Caroline nods, "Yeah. And Kat's always been firmly convinced that she should get to do whatever her little black heart desires on her birthday."
"She did insist I ensure you get home safely. I'm afraid you were rather reluctant to supply your address."
She sighs, finally dropping her hands. "Honestly, I just moved into a condo. I might not have remembered it." That's the less embarrassing option. It's probably more likely that tequila drunk Caroline had crafted a plan to seduce Klaus, and step one entailed getting invited to his house. "I know you said not to apologize, but I obviously put you out. I'm supposed to babysit you, not the other way around."
Klaus laughs, his knee nudging hers. "I haven't needed that for ages, as you well know."
He has a point – Caroline likely wouldn't have agreed to take him on if he was still indulging in public drunkenness and paparazzi punching. When she'd first met with Klaus, it had been out of curiosity. She'd made a comfortable living from her client roster, did not need to take on the project of a difficult actor.
Klaus' bad behavior had been a few years in the past, and he'd just come off a run of festival darlings and had produced a surprise hit sci-fi drama. He'd been frustrated by the doors that remained firmly shut to him, had laid his ambitions on the table.
Caroline had been intrigued. While she's excellent at her job, but it's always easier to work her magic with clients who are willing to dive into the work. Klaus' talent was undeniable; she'd thought he could be a household name with the right opportunity. She'd agreed to take him on, and three years later, it's paid off.
Caroline tugs the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over her hands, eyes on the frayed trim. "I was mad when I saw you last night, and that wasn't fair. You'd set you were resting up for the press tour, but it's not my business if you changed your mind."
"Did you think I was resuming some bad habits?" Klaus asks. "I know that particular venue has a… reputation. Probably why Kol picked it."
Caroline sneaks a glance at him, trying to gauge how he feels, but he's not giving much away. "No, not really. I trust you. I wasn't thinking super logically."
She has to admit, at least to herself, that she'd been jealous. Caroline's going to have to think about how deep that goes, if the feelings that had slapped her in the face last night will prevent their working relationship from being effective. What if Klaus meets someone? Will she be able to plant sneaky tidbits about how happy they are, scour the gossip blogs for rumors that could become issues?
"You? Not thinking logically? However could that be?"
She glares at him, though she knows his teasing is good-natured. "Some of it was the booze. I totally wouldn't have hauled you onto the dance floor without it. And I wouldn't have… well, you were there."
She's not up to list her transgressions. If Klaus hadn't been drinking, then his memory of her wandering hands, her flirtatious comments, and heated invitations should be crystal clear. Caroline had been drunk, and she's having a hard time not dwelling on the kiss – which, to be fair, Klaus had enthusiastically participated in – that she'd initiated.
"I was there. I have no objections to anything that occurred last night, save perhaps wishing you'd been sober." Her head snaps up, eyes widening in shock, and Klaus laughs incredulously. "Surely you must know of my interest in you, Caroline."
She's suspected, but she's also well aware that Klaus has no shortage of offers. Last night is proof of that. Caroline has always assumed that take one of them, at some point, and his flirtatiousness with her would fade away. She'd dated an actor or two when she'd moved to LA after wrapping up college. Caroline had been working insane hours then, trying to claw her way past the other assistants at the agency where she'd worked. Her exes from that time period had been quick to move on once they realized she wasn't willing to center her universe around them.
"Interest can be fleeting."
"It's been three years."
"You never made a real move."
Again, Klaus counters quickly. "You'd not have accepted, and then you'd likely have pawned me off on someone else."
Yeah, he's got a point there. "I'm your publicist."
"I have no objection to mixing business with pleasure. If you do, I suppose I'm willing to suffer a less competent publicist."
"I'm beginning to suspect you've been plotting."
Klaus shrugs, entirely unrepentant. "Perhaps a bit. I've always been entirely honest with you, I merely prevented a situation that would lessen the time we spent together until such a time as you were ready to consider me in a romantic light."
"That's a lot of words to confess you've been trying to flirt me into submission while flashing your hot body at every opportunity," Caroline grumbles.
Klaus' smile widens, dimples now visible. "It seems to have worked. Assuming that you meant the things you said to me last night?"
"I…" she hadn't been expecting him to ask her that directly. She should have been – Klaus is skilled at choosing the best way to catch someone off guard. Caroline glances away from him, eyes catching on the clock across the room. Crap. She has so much to do. "I have to go," Caroline tells him, standing up.
His eyes narrow, and his head tips to the side, like he's searching for a sign of weakness. Both telltale indicators that Klaus is gearing up to argue. Caroline holds up a hand, "I know, okay? This looks like I'm running away, and technically I am, but this is not the time to begin that mixing you mentioned. We've both worked too hard to risk screwing up the next few weeks. Did you read your contract? The fines for non-compliance are no joke."
"Now is not the time," Klaus says slowly. "Meaning?"
"We table it now. I'm open to a discussion later." Three weeks is plenty of time for her to sort out where she stands, right? Caroline never sleeps on flights anyway.
He runs a hand through his hair. "I want a timeline. I understand that you feel obligated to ensure this press tour goes smoothly, but you can only use it as an excuse until it's over, love. I'm prepared to be persuasive."
"What, do you want me to schedule something on your calendar? Maybe set an agenda?"
"No need to be so formal. Just agree to have dinner with me once we return. Here, if you'd like, so we don't risk inflaming the tabloids before you're ready."
"You seem awfully sure that this is going to go a certain way. So eager to fire me?"
Klaus gets to his feet, and Caroline sucks in a nervous breath. Sitting across from each other, he'd been a reasonable distance away. Now, with both of them standing in the narrow gap between his couch and coffee table, if one of them breathes too deeply or shifts deliberately, they'll be plastered together.
She's tempted despite knowing she's right about the timing.
Klaus rests his hand on her waist and turns them so Caroline could step back if she wanted to.
She stays where she is.
A tiny smile curls Klaus' lips and his hand moves, pressing her closer. "As much as I enjoyed your more… explicit ramblings last night, I must confess my favorite revelation was when you confessed to just how long you've had them."
Caroline, not for the first time, curses tequila's wretched existence.
Wednesday, May 5th 2:20 PM
The meet and greets are going to kill her.
Caroline had thought they were a good idea when she'd poured through the itinerary the studio had sent over. Inviting popular bloggers, auctioning off tickets for charity, allowing fans to enter random draws – it's great PR and provides the opportunity for viral moments, while also controlling the environment.
Caroline's leaning against one of the walls, unnoticed, eyes on her client.
A lot of eyes are on her client, some of which irritate Caroline more than others. The two teenage girls, trailed by an exasperated dad, who'd both burst into tears when Klaus had smiled at them? Totally adorable. The nerdy college student who'd grilled Klaus about his character's comic backstory? Kind of a pain, but Klaus had done his homework, and Caroline had been impressed.
And annoyed. Excessive preparation is very attractive and unhelpful at this juncture of the press tour. Caroline's already begun to reconsider what they'd agreed to, wonders if knocking on his hotel room door on the last night would be such a bad thing.
That line of thinking might be overly influenced by the scene in front of her.
Klaus is speaking with a woman in an afternoon inappropriate silver dress. Caroline's sorely tempted to have her escorted out by security. She'd slipped a key card into the back pocket of Klaus' jeans within 90 seconds of meeting him.
He's handed it back, said something that made her laugh. They're still talking.
Klaus glances up, eyes landing on her immediately. Caroline hastily tries to soften her irritated expression lest he guesses its reason. Klaus smiles, subtly tips his water bottle in her direction. Silver Dress invades his personal space a little more.
Ugh. It's gonna be a long three weeks.