Notes: Another Tumblr drabble! I'm on kind of a roll.
Meet (not so) Cute
(Prompt from queenvampirebarbie: "I bumped into you and your paint box fell and your stuff spilled out everywhere, oh god i'm so sorry." Rated T.)
Checking her phone again Caroline bit back a curse (because swearing to yourself was just asking to be looked at like a mental hospital escapee – and she did not need the silent judgement of random strangers right now). But she was late and she hated it. Punctual was Caroline Forbes' middle name, usually, but the Gods of public transportation had a vendetta of some sort, and her bus home had been almost ten minutes late.
And crowded. And inhabited by several people with questionable taste in fragrance, and no idea how to apply said fragrance subtly, leaving her with a bit of a headache.
Shoving her way off the bus, she'd raced to her apartment, rushed through getting ready, only managing the barest hint of makeup, popped a couple Tylenol, and was now speed walking to work.
So Caroline was frazzled, and cranky, and focused on the time on her phone's screen, rather than on where she was going. Truly, a recipe for disaster. She'd just reached the building where the Gala she was serving at was being held, and she had less than sixty seconds to get to the back entrance and slip inside. Caroline took a corner quickly, and her shoulder slammed into something,someone, as it turned out, causing her to stagger slightly before she caught her balance.
She turns to the person she'd just barged into, a flurry of apologies on the tip of her tongue. The person, a man who did not share her qualms about the judgement of strangers, if the creative string of profanity spilling out of his mouth was anything to go by.
Not that she could blame him. Since he'd been carrying a large, square, case, and her crashing into him had caused him to drop it. Various little brightly colored tubes and brushes, things that looked like makeup sponges, had spilled out, scattering and rolling across the pavement.
Caroline had frozen, seeing the mess, and clapped a hand over her mouth.
The man had crouched down, and was gathering up his belongings. He cast irritated eyes up at her, and some part of Caroline's brain noted that he was veryattractive, full lipped and blue eyed. And then he spoke, ruining all that handsome. Because while the accent was also appealing, the tone and words he used were definitely not, "Well? Are you just going to stand there dithering? A little help, sometime this century, would be much appreciated. Since your clumsiness and lack of attention caused this."
Caroline dropped her hand and narrowed her eyes into a glare. Sure, he had a point but was being such a dick about it really necessary? "Look, I'm sorry. I'm running late and…"
"I don't care, sweetheart," he gave her a once over, eying her white shirt, black pants and pulled back hair dismissively, "I'm sure your evening plans are scintillating. It is tax season, perhaps you've a hot date with a calculator? But some of us have actually important engagements, so be a dear and pick up a few things, would you?"
Caroline's jaw dropped at his nerve, "Excuse you, this is a uniform, you jackass. Rest assured, that out of it? I'd blow your mind."
He raises a brow at that and looks at her once more, lingering a little longer in the chest area. And yeah, ordinarily that would piss her off but she'd kind of invited it. Also, let him eat his heart out because the odds of her ever giving him the time of day after this were slim to none.
The guy's just about to say something else, but Caroline's so done with him so she cuts him off, "Now, I am sorry for running into you. But it was an accident. And yeah, Emily Post and my southern upbringing say that I should help you. But you're a douche and I have somewhere to be. So bye."
Caroline spun away from him, sort of wishing her hair was down, because a toss of her curls would have made her badass exit slightly more satisfying, and stomped away.
Her boss gives Caroline an unimpressed look when she rushes into the kitchen, but waves Caroline's apologies away with a grudging, "Just don't let it happen again, and get to work!"
Caroline falls into the rhythm of set up easily, methodically laying out cutlery. She's just retrieving the place cards and seating chart when one of the newer girls intercepts her. April's sweet, a bit shy, and currently the color of a ripe tomato, "Caroline! Could you please, please, please, take this tray into the models? They're… naked." The other girl's eyes had darted around, her voice dropping to a whisper on the last word. And Caroline did remember something about 'living art' being a part of this event.
With a mental shrug, she trades April, emphasizing that the seating chart must be followed exactly, and heads down the hall April had indicated. Balking at a little nudity wasn't exactly Caroline's style and April was always up for a shift trade so Caroline figured protecting the other girl's delicate, Pastor's daughter, sensibilities was the least she could do.
Pasting on a polite, customer service smile, Caroline quietly slips into the room and begins arranging the food. She sneaks peeks as she does so, though no one pays her much mind. There's six models, two are fully painted and coiffed, standing somewhat awkwardly in the center of the room. Caroline can't really blame them, going first would have to have sucked as there's not much they can do without smudging off the paint that covers them.
She can't help but study them briefly, surprised by how beautiful, and weirdly tasteful the work is. They're naked but it's somehow not in your face or salacious at all.
There are four other people in the room, two on the far side that she gathers are hair stylists, and they're busy with two of the models, gluing what looks like fabric leaves and beads onto tall, elaborate up-dos.
The final two models are standing on stools, being painted by the artists, both of whom have their backs to Caroline. One's a diminutive woman with pink hair, the other a man with dark blonde curls and very nice shoulders, displayed in a light grey shirt. And it's him she ends up paying attention to. Something about the way he moves (and the way he fills out his jeans…) keeps drawing her eye back to him. She wonders for a moment what it would be like to be the girl being painted, to have all of the attractive stranger's focus on her bare skin.
Sexual fantasies at work were probably a no-no but Caroline's imagination would not be denied. Hey, she's been single for months now, and this was primo fantasy fodder.
She watches as he steps back, surveys his work for a moment, before he seems satisfied, and offers his hand to the model to help her down. He says something quietly and the model laughs, in a distinctly flirtatious way.
Either he works fast, or the hair stylists are behind, because he seems at a loss for a moment, before he turns and notices her.
And Caroline wants to slap herself for being such an idiot. Because the guy she'd just been ogling appreciatively is the same asshole she'd run into earlier. Really, the painting paraphernalia should have had her making the connection immediately. But no, she'd just spent a solid five minutes having dirty thoughts about the corded muscles in his forearms and his probably dexterous fingers (because artists totally had those, right?)
Such a waste because she had no desire to ever speak to him again.
Although, a little voice that sounded distinctly like Kat pointed out, none of said dirty thoughts technically involved conversation…
But he recognizes her immediately, and shoots her a grin, before striding over, "Fancy meeting you here, love."
Caroline wonders how polite she has to be. He's not technically a guest, right? He's the help at this thing, just like her. So she ignores him, pointedly gathering the various garbage that unwrapping the food had produced, and makes to leave.
He sidesteps around her quickly, and put himself right in her path, "Come now, don't be like that. We had a little spat, I'm over it."
Caroline lets her expression show exactly how unimpressed she is with that startling lack of apology for his earlier jerkitude.
He grimaces slightly, and she gives him a fraction of a point for reading her "I am very displeased" signals better than a past boyfriend or two, "I apologize for snapping at you. You weren't the only one who was late to a work commitment, you see."
Caroline shifts her weight, slightly, crosses her arms, "I was going to say sorry, you know. And help you pick up your things. You just didn't give me the chance."
"I know, I know. It was unforgivably rude. But this is technically my first job of this sort. The money's very good and I was already worried that being late meant I'd fucked things up and I took it out on you."
Caroline looks back at the painted models, "Well, I know zilch about art but I think you're talented."
He smiles, a little shy, and so different from the arrogant man she'd met outside. Caroline finds herself warming to him. Just a smidge.
"Thank you. The other artist," he nods to the pink haired woman who was just finishing up, "kindly covered for me, and I felt like a prick immediately after you left."
"You should have," Caroline sniffed, "The outfit's terrible on purpose. And I wouldn't be caught dead in it unless I was being paid. I'm supposed to basically be furniture at these things."
He laughs softly, "As if that's possible. But I suppose the wives would be quite perturbed if their husbands paid too much attention to the beautiful woman serving the food. Because even in a room full of gowns and jewels I'm quite sure my eyes would be drawn to you."
Caroline blinks at the compliment, feels her face heat, at a loss for how to respond, cursing him for being charming and crazy hot. How was she supposed to hold a grudge against all of that?
His attention is caught by the final two models shrugging out of their robes, "Ah, duty calls. My name is Klaus, by the way. Have I acquitted myself sufficiently enough to earn your name, love?"
"It's Caroline," she finds herself replying.
"Caroline," he repeats it, slowly lingering over the 'L' in a way that she shouldn't find hot, "it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Would you consider going out with me, once this event is over? I'll be around for touchups and such, and can wait for you to be finished? I know a great twenty four hour place that has the best pie you'll ever have."
"What? Why?" Caroline asks incredulously.
Klaus shrugs, scratches absently as some dried paint on his wrist, "I find that I quite like your sharp tongue, love. I'd like to talk with you some more, but it's up to you, of course."
"I'll think about it," Caroline tells him, unwilling to cave quite so easily. She'd loathed him an hour ago, after all.
But, as a person who didn't always make the greatest of first impressions herself maybe, just maybe, she could give him a shot?
Caroline thinks about little else the rest of the night, thankful that she's done this job enough to muddle through on autopilot. She's too busy to speak to Klaus again, though she catches his eye a few times. He smiles at her, sometimes commiserating, because somehow he'd picked up on the strain dealing with so many people used to their whims being catered to always caused her to feel, and sometimes he seemed just genuinely happy with her presence, however fleeting, as they passed one another.
The first few smiles Caroline had avoided, still confused as to whether she liked him or not. Then she began returning them. At first tentatively, then more genuinely as the night wore on.
Klaus had been true to his word, and when she'd exited the back entrance he'd been leaning against the building, hands stuffed in his pockets. Caroline regarded him for a moment, came to a decision. She pulled the elastic out of her hair and shook it out.
He looked kind of mesmerized, and what girl didn't like that?
"I believe you offered me pie? Now, I have very high standards for that particular food, so fair warning, I doubt I'll think it's the best ever."
Klaus pushed himself off of the wall and waited for her to fall into step with him, "Challenge accepted, love. And if it's not, well then I guess I'll have to keep trying."
The pie was pretty good, but the conversation had been better. And when Klaus offered to walk her home, Caroline accepted. And when his fingers had brushed hers, she'd grabbed his hand and hadn't let go, and if both of them smiled like sappy idiots at least no one was around to notice.