Notes: And we're just about done with December, one more to go after this! I'm planning a slightly longer jump into the next section - we'll pick up close the the end of January. And I'd just like to say thanks to anyone who nominated me for The Klaroline Awards! This story's competing in the Best Comedic Fiction Category and I'm in the running for both Best Comedy Author and Best AH/AU Author. You can go vote for your favorites (maybe find some new things to read!) until August 4th.

DECEMBER – MONDAY

KLAUS:

Klaus feels a bit winded, standing outside Caroline and Kol's apartment. The disapproving old bat that lived down the hall, and her demonic rat-dog, had just been getting into the elevator when he'd wanted to. So Klaus had taken the stairs at a virtual sprint, in order to avoid an interrogation in a small metal box. As any semi-intelligent person would do, he thought.

A quick glance at the panel above the elevator tells Klaus that the car is now only one floor below. He lets out a muffled curse as he digs Kol's keys out of his pocket.

Klaus had gotten a text from Kol this morning, glib but concerned in a roundabout sort of way, informing him that Caroline's illness had worsened overnight. Kol had to work, but didn't trust Caroline stay home and rest, and so he had sought backup. Kol's messages had said he was convinced that Caroline would drag her 'diseased carcass' to the office and infect the general populace, possibly causing an epidemic.

It was plain that Kol had begun to view Caroline as more than a roommate, and equally plain that he had no idea how to navigate a completely platonic relationship with a woman, especially one that had no obvious shelf life. But then who was Klaus to cast aspersions on his brother's ability to form healthy emotional attachments? He didn't have the best track record himself, as Rebekah liked to point out. Frequently and at great volume.

Kol had reached out to Bekah first, but she'd been unable to leave work, which had left Klaus as the best option to go check on Caroline. Klaus had quickly agreed when asked, cancelled his work plans with Marcel without any fuss (they were actually ahead, for once), and swung by the hotel Kol worked at. He'd picked up Kol's keys (and some chicken noodle soup Kol had instructed one of the sous chefs on how to make – which was now going to be today's lunch special at the restaurant, something Klaus could tell Kol was pleased about).

On the way to see Caroline, Klaus stopped at a drugstore, and picked up one of just about everything that said 'coughing,' 'sneezing,' or 'sore throat.' And a few boxes of the good sort of tissues, 3-ply with lotion, that didn't irritate skin. Plus assorted herbal teas.

Klaus knocks before he lets himself in, hearing the faint ding of the elevator just as he closes the door. He'd sent Caroline a text, assumed Kol had as well, but had gotten no response. Klaus just hopes she won't be alarmed by his entrance.

There's no movement, no sign of Caroline, but the TV's on. Klaus sets his bags down on the kitchen island, and walks further into the apartment, finally spotting a lump on the couch that he assumes is Caroline. She's wrapped in at least three blankets, curled into a ball, and he can only see the end of a blonde braid peeking out.

A hoarse, hacking cough causes the lump to shake, and a pained moan follows.

She's clearly miserable and Klaus feels pangs of sympathy but also anxiousness. He's probably not a person who Caroline wants to see right now, and he knows his ability to make things better for her are quite limited. Klaus walks around the couch and sits down next to Caroline, calling her name to get her attention.

Caroline stiffens and lets out another groan, burrowing even further into the nest she's made. Klaus grasps a handful of her coverings and pulls gently, "Come on, Caroline. I've brought soup, and I'll make tea, and I took the liberty of buying you all manner of over the counter drugs. Surely something will help."

"Ugh," Caroline mumbles weakly, "I must look like a zombie. A really gross one, who's been decomposing for like a year. Leave me here to die in peace."

"Ah, dramatic when we're sick, are we?" Klaus teases, "I suppose that's better than yesterday's denial."

Caroline pushes the blankets down enough to glare at him, her eyes red rimmed and shadowed, but still that lovely blue they turn when she's especially happy or annoyed.

"Don't make fun of me. I haven't slept. My throat's on fire. I'm freezing and I have so much work to do it's not even funny."

"I'm not making fun of you, love. I'm sorry you're sick. And you don't look like a rotted corpse at all."

She rolls her eyes but gives him a tiny smile, before she turns away to cough again. Clearing her throat she manages to sound sarcastic, "Wow, what a compliment. I'll try to keep my panties on."

Klaus decides to sidestep that one, because he doesn't think they've quite worked their way back up to flirting, and suggestive is the only way to run with a comment like that. "Do you have a tea preference? I picked up chamomile and mint, both are supposed to be good for colds."

"Mint please, chamomile's gross."

"Coming right up," Klaus responds, and then busies himself in the kitchen. He heats the soup while the tea steeps, rummages around until he locates crackers.

Returning to Caroline, Klaus sets the cup beside her and waits until she's upright enough before he hands her the soup. She murmurs her thanks and begins to eat, slowly. Klaus sits down next to her, and focuses on the movie playing on the television.

He can feel Caroline's eyes on him, every few minutes, but he ignores her questioning stares. His afternoon and evening are free, so Klaus has no problem waiting for Caroline to mull over whatever she's evidently dying to ask him.

When Caroline puts her bowl aside and turns to face him, feet clad in fluffy white bunny slippers poke out from under the bottom of the blanket. Klaus raises an amused eyebrow and Caroline says, "What? They were a Christmas present. And they're super cozy."

"I didn't say anything."

"You made judging eyes," Caroline accuses. She sniffles and reaches for a tissue. The blankets and the heavy knit cardigan she's wearing slip of her shoulder and Klaus reacts without thinking, reaching over to pull them back into place. The backs of his fingers brush Caroline's bare arm and shoulder and Klaus notices that her skin is cooler than it should be. She'd gone a little wide-eyed with his touch, and Klaus tucks that knowledge away to contemplate when other matters aren't so pressing.

"Do you have a heating pad? Hot water bottle, maybe?"

Caroline shakes her head, "No, it's fine. I'm not that cold anymore. But suddenly Rebekah's weirdly overbearing Florence Nightingale tendencies make sense."

Klaus ignores her and goes to grab another blanket from Kol's room, throwing it over Caroline when he returns, "Now, you should probably take some medicine."

"I hate cold medicine," Caroline grumbles, "it makes my head all fuzzy and I get sleepy."

"Sleep is good. Healing," Klaus counters retrieving his drugstore purchases and a bottle of water. Caroline's expression is mutinous when he returns and she looks pointedly away from the offered bag, "and I'm quite certain that the clerk at the pharmacy suspected I was setting up a Meth lab so be a dear and pick something you like. For me," Klaus lets his words turn coaxing and swings the bag slightly. Caroline makes a face but snatches it from him and begins to paw through its contents.

"Wow, you weren't kidding about the meth lab," she notes, "you really didn't have to do this."

"I know I didn't have to, love. I wanted to."

Caroline picks a box and busies herself with popping out two capsules, "Well, thank you," she says, sounding almost shy.

"You're welcome. Now, please explain this movie to me," Klaus requests, gesturing to the screen as he sits once more.

"The blonde is Jodi. Scrappy first year student at the American Ballet Company. Bad feet, tons of heart. Involved in a love triangle with bad boy dancer dude and nice guy dancer dude. Both of whom look insanely good in those tights."

Klaus doesn't know that he's ever admired another man's thigh muscles but he can see what Caroline's talking about. And makes a mental note to possibly up his time at the gym.

"Dance movies are my happy place," Caroline continues. "But we can watch something else if you're going to stay. I mean, you don't have to. I'm sure you've got better things to do than babysit me while I'm sick and cranky and…"

"I really don't," Klaus assures her. "And I'm fine with this. You need a happy place more than I do, I think."

And since she's finally resigned herself to taking the cold medicine, Klaus assumes she'll be out cold in no more than a half hour.

They both fall quiet, and Klaus tries to pay attention to the movie, but he can feel Caroline staring again. After a few minutes he glances over, catching her eye. He expects her to look away, but she surprises him, and continues peering at him thoughtfully. She bites her lip, and appears to make a decision, declaring, "I think we should be friends. Officially."

Klaus can't help but smirk at her wording, "Officially? Is there something I have to sign? A commemorative bracelet, perhaps?"

"No one likes a smart ass, Klaus."

Klaus grins at that, "You do. You like Kol, and Bekah neither, of whom are strangers to biting observational witticisms. Even Elijah does it in his own way, though no one ever really notices, because they don't expect mockery from such a gentlemanly type. Your friend Enzo? Also fits the bill. Stefan, even."

Caroline huffs exasperatedly, "Okay, okay. Fine. I have a type. But you forgot you. I do like you. And I want to move past the weirdness. So I guess I forgive you for not telling me about Violet. But don't lie to me again. That's a deal breaker."

"I won't," Klaus promises, "I wouldn't, Caroline."

She shifts, averting her gaze, "And I know you said that you feel other stuff for me. But I don't know about that yet. And I understand if that makes the friend thing tough and if you maybe don't want…"

"Caroline. Stop," Klaus says insistently. He feels like a bit of an arse, since he keeps interrupting her. But the tangent she's about to go on really isn't necessary, "I'd like to think I can still be friends with a woman, regardless of any other feelings I might have. I still enjoy your company, love. I did so even when you were upset with me, actually. Friends is fine."

"Okay," Caroline says, releasing an audible breath, "Good. I'm glad," she grimaces slightly, seemingly embarrassed, "and I'll stop babbling any day now. Promise."

"I won't be holding my breath, sweetheart. But then I like the babbling too."

Caroline snorts and leans back, wiggling down into the couch arm, her legs stretching out until they press against the outside of his thigh, "You can dial back the charm, Klaus. I won't change my mind."

And Klaus would do his best to ensure that she never did.