Notes: This fic is officially one year old today! So have an update. Thanks so much for all the reviews, follows and favorites guys! I appreciate it.

FEBRUARY – MONDAY

KOL:

He stops short, after unlocking the door, surveying the chaos that awaits him.

For a minute Kol thinks he's walked into the wrong flat. Because the place he shares with Caroline is usually pristine. And the room he's walked in to is anything but. Piles of fabric, in all colors and textures are on every flat surface. Caroline cannot abide clutter, can spot a knick knack out of place at a hundred paces. The disarray can only mean that something's not quite right with her. He glances at the kitchen, spots his French Press and knife block right where they belong. Is relieved that the tornado that's evidently blown through their home has left his prized possessions unscathed. For now.

He strips his coat and toes off his boots, takes a few cautious steps further in. And almost trips over a pile of heels. He edges around it (and the neighboring pile of flats) setting the food he's brought home from work on the kitchen island.

He debates leaving and ignoring whatever crazy has gotten into Caroline. He's quite certain of the root of it given recent events. Nik had emerged from Caroline's bedroom looking very pleased (though not rumpled – ruling out anything too interesting). He'd left quickly and Kol had been forced to wait for Caroline to drag herself to the living room to press for details. Had he not felt half dead he'd probably have been more enthusiastic to know that an actual date had finally been set and that Caroline and Nik would no longer be driving he and Bekah (and Enzo and Stefan and Mrs. Harris and Goliath and Caroline's assistant and likely several others) completely mad with their endless dance of careful avoidance.

He should have known some sort of fit was coming but his brain hadn't been in tip top shape yesterday.

Kol could slip back out and shoot Caroline a text, let her know there's food so she doesn't starve herself. He could call Enzo, or pop by Rebekah's to pester her and Stefan. Could even wander over to Nik's place and see if his brother's in a similar state. He could do any of these things. But he won't. Because he's developed an annoying soft spot for Caroline and he'll worry if he leaves now.

This staying in one city, developing attachments to people, business was dreadfully inconvenient. Gave a man all sorts of headaches.

He spots a stack of garments on the coffee table that gives him pause. He recognized the skimpy burgundy thing on top from an old photo Caroline has tucked into a corner of a bulletin board in her room. He wouldn't be surprised if she still has the pom-poms. There's something that involves pink tulle underneath, and an intriguing leather strap sticking out further down. Kol's reaching out to investigate, maybe snap a photo or two (or twelve). Because one never knew when one might need to taunt one's brother about the array of outfits that could be used for naughty purposes that the object of said brother's affections happened to own. Letting such an opportunity pass by would be completely wasteful, in Kol's mind.

Unfortunately, before he can dig in and do some quality snooping, Caroline bustles out of her bedroom with another load of clothing and hangers cradled in her arms. "Hey," she greets him, dropping her burden on to the couch. She immediately begins sorting, her movements quick and methodical, "You're home early."

"Restaurant was dead. It's snowing again."

"Yeah, I know. I left work when it started. My last client cancelled, said traffic was a mess."

Kol makes an acknowledging hum, bracing himself to make his next inquiry. "So what's all this, then?"

Caroline is suddenly very interested in the pile of dresses in front of her, tipping her head down like her task requires intense concentration and surgical precision, "I was just thinking about what I'm going to wear out with Klaus tomorrow, flipping through my closet, and I realized it's been forever since I've worn some of this stuff. Seriously, I think I spotted a couple of sweaters I'd bought in high school. And a couple of things from before I realized that not every trend's for everybody. So I figured why not do a little spring cleaning?"

"Because it's February," Kol tells her dryly. "Spring's not for weeks. Both according to the earth's actual progress around the sun and that nonsense with the rodent predicting the weather."

She shoots him a brief glare, but her tone remains breezy, her denial thick in it, "Well, I like to get a head start on these things."

Kol scoffs, circling the couch and throwing himself down, wedging himself in between the skirts and pants. "Caroline, darling, I've lived with you for months now. You really should cease trying to lie to me, you know. This is not the first time I've witnessed you attempt to organize your anxiety into submission. I doubt it'll be the last. Just stay out of my things."

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters, "I'll leave your fancy spice rack alone. Still think alphabetical is just the logical way to go."

It's an argument they've only had once, and it was not pretty. "Caroline. You're deflecting. And doing kind of a shit job of it, to be honest."

The glare sharpens, "I am not anxious!" she insists.

Kol doesn't bother to reply, merely stares at her, a brow arched so high in disbelief that he wonders if it's possible to strain a facial muscle. It really would be a pity to mar his face in such a manner.

She caves, like he'd known she would, throwing up her hands. "Okay, fine! I am a teeny, tiny bit anxious. And we both know why and I really don't think talking about it is going to help me at this point. So shut up and let me clean."

Really, she should know better, at this point, than to expect him to shut up, shouldn't she?

"Mmm. I suppose it's understandable that you're a bit of a mess. How long has it been since you've been on a date again?" Kol asks innocently. "Not quite long enough for cartoon bats to be flying out of important areas but nearly. Perhaps you've forgotten how these things go?"

Her jaw drops, eyes flashing angrily. Precisely the reaction he'd wanted. Kol sinks lower into the couch to avoid the hanger she tosses at his head. It lands with a clatter behind him and he straightens, smoothing down his shirt indignantly, "I really think we ought to institute another jar. An 'uncalled for act of roommate against roommate violence' jar."

"You'd have to work on the name. That title is both terrible and would never fit."

"Could be catchier," Kol agrees. "I'll work on it. Don't think you're getting your sparkle-mad little mitts all over my jar."

She cracks a smile at that, glancing over to the bookcase where the Perv Jar had been sitting (once the ridiculous amount of glue and glitter she'd applied had dried) since Klaus had gifted it to her. Kol's quite sure she's emptied it a time or two, especially in the beginning, imagines she's maniacally giggled over her windfalls each time. But as he watches Caroline he notes that her smile fades quickly, the fondness in her gaze leaking away. Her face quickly settles into that slightly pinched expression she gets when she was trying to act like she wasn't struggling internally.

Kol feels a little pang of guilt but quickly bats it away. So his initial distraction attempt was unsuccessful. Only meant it was time to try again.

But, as it turns out, he doesn't need to because Caroline evidently has a distraction of her own in mind. A speculative little gleam enters her eye as she studies him, "Speaking of dating, and being out of practice…"

Kol fights not to groan (because she'll take great glee in his discomfort – she's a bit of a sadist like Rebekah that way) and fervently wishes that he'd gone with his first instinct and fled. "I've been on plenty of dates, actually."

Caroline lets out a snort, "Drinks and sex and never speaking to a girl again doesn't really count, Kol."

"Are you slut shaming me, darling? Not very PC of you, is it?"

That gets an actual laugh out of her, and she moves the stack of skirts, flopping down next to him on the couch, "Nope, not at all. Whatever floats you and your consenting, legal adult, partner's boat. As long as it doesn't happen on my couch."

He's avoided that since that time she'd walked in. Mostly.

When he peeks over at Caroline her eyes have narrowed shrewdly, perhaps reading something in his face. And Kol definitely doesn't want her digging into whatever (likely correct) thoughts are occurring to her. His fingers had positively ached after the scrubbing he'd done to the kitchen island last time. It was entirely possible he'd worn the marble away before she'd been satisfied that any lingering 'bare ass stranger' germs had been removed.

Not an afternoon he's keen to repeat.

He clears his throat, hurries to speak, "I haven't been floating any boats recently, as I'm sure you've noticed. Not here or anywhere else."

"I have," she drawls. "And I am very interested in the reasons behind your weird new vow of celibacy. And if it has anything to do with Bonnie the Caterer."

"It might," Kol admits grudgingly. "A little bit."

"Ha! I knew it," she elbows him, settling deeper into the couch with a grin. "Tell me all about it."

But Kol's not exactly willing to delve deep into that particular topic, "So you can tell Bekah all about it? I'm afraid I'll have to pass."

"Kol!" Caroline whines, her elbow digging a little more harshly into his ribs. He shifts away from her as much as he can but she follows. "I can totally keep a secret." She turns big pleading eyes on him, lips turning into a hint of a pout.

But this is not Kol's first time being on the receiving end of such an expression, and since he's not Nik, he's somewhat immune to Caroline's version. He shakes his head in refusal, "Not from Rebekah, you can't. And I'd like to keep my she-beast of a demon sister away. At least until I've convinced Bonnie that I'm delightful company and an excellent catch."

"But…"

Kol cuts her off firmly, "It's not happening, Caroline."

"Ugh. You suck," she grumbles, crossing her arms and staring up at the ceiling in annoyance. "As if I'd sabotage you! I happen to like Bonnie."

"You're just obsessed with those mini potato appetizers."

"Am not!" she shoots back, pushing herself to her feet. "And I resent the implications that I'm not totally on Team Kol here. Who did all that kickass research about your top school options? That's right. Me."

"So you're saying I shouldn't see if she'll share that recipe?" Kol asks knowingly.

Caroline whirls, an eager expression on her face, "Let's not be so hasty. I didn't say that, did I?"

Kol forces out a heavy sigh, laying his mock disappointment on heavily, "So transparent. No wonder Rebekah can play you."

"Those potatoes haunt my dreams, Kol," Caroline tells him gravely, a wistful expression crossing her face momentarily. After a moment she turns away, heading to the kitchen. He hears her opening drawers, the clink of cutlery telling him that she's setting places for dinner.

A crack about what a crushing disappointment it would have been for Niklaus to learn about the mundane content of her dreams had been on the very tip of his tongue. He's honestly rather impressed with himself for swallowing it back, the instinct to needle her warring with his pleasure at how much less tense she'd seemed then when he'd walked in.

Perhaps he was growing as a person after all. Hopefully no one would tattle to Elijah. One earnest 'I'm somewhat proud of you, Kol' speech a year was about all he could stomach.