Notes: So I've been a little quiet lately, mostly because I've been working on things for klarolineauweek, currently happening on Tumblr! Today is Day One and the theme is AU: All Human (Celebrities). Here are the two drabbles I wrote. Check out the tag on tumblr or head over to everythingisklaroline dot tumblr dot com to see all the fics and art!

Biomechanical Force

(Prompt from an Anon: "i was trying to read in the park and your stray football fucking knocked me unconscious" klaroline au. Rated T.)

"Oh my god!" Caroline exclaims, her hands flying up to cover her face. This is possibly the most mortifying thing to ever happen to her. Maybe not ever, because sometimes she still cringes, looking back at her teenage self. But it'll definitely go down in history as the most embarrassing moment she'd experienced since she'd reached legal drinking age.

She is going to murder Enzo.

Biting her lip, she slowly uncovers her face, prepared to apologize profusely for Enzo's inability to throw a football properly. She expects the guy who'd gotten hit (a super-hot hottie, and yeah Caroline might have been paying a little more attention to him than to correcting Enzo's technique but the fact that she was wasting a sunny Sunday on this, just because of a stupid contest Damon had roped Enzo into was ridiculous. She deserved a little eye candy for her trouble) to be irate, rubbing his head and glaring daggers, but he's not.

He's slumped slightly to the side, the book he'd been reading having fallen to the ground.

Oh shit.

The contrite words she'd been crafting flee her brain, and she sprints over to the bench. She hesitates, but then tugs the guys sunglasses off his face (carefully, because they were clearly designer, and she'd hate to have to explain that she broke them, in addition to being a party to causing whatever head injury he might have sustained).

And then her heart sinks further, because she knows his face. Not because they'd ever met, but because it graces tabloids and big screens regularly. And okay, fine, he might have featured in an explicit dream or two, after she saw that one with the swords, where he was half naked and sweaty most of the time. Entirely naked and sweaty for a very steamy scene that Caroline definitely hadn't watched repeatedly, on the Blu Ray copy that she owned.

Enzo's come up behind her, though he seems to be in no hurry. He bends to pick up the football, tossing it between his hands, "Whoops. Seems I don't quite know my own strength. Or perhaps this ball is just defective? American football is so odd."

"Enzo," Caroline whispers furiously, "do you know who this is?"

"The bloke you've been ogling since we got here?"

Caroline smacks him, with the back of her hand, because was this really the time? Could he not see that she had her panicked face on? "No! He's…"

But Enzo cuts her off with a scoff, "Don't deny it, Caroline. I have perfect vision and you were doing an awful lot of that hair tossing thing you do when you flirt."

Caroline groans, resisting the urge to hit him again. Harder, possibly in the head. But two head injuries probably weren't better than one, "Not, 'No, I wasn't ogling him,'" Caroline bites out, holding up a hand when Enzo looks like he's about to butt in, "Shut up, Enzo. I meant no, as in he's not just a guy I'd been ogling. He's Klaus Mikaelson."

Enzo eyebrows creep up, recognizing the name, and her leans forward, peering at Klaus' (could she call him that? Probably not. But what was she supposed to call him?) unconscious face. "Huh. So he is. Thought he'd be bigger." He brought a hand up, and tapped Klaus' face, none to gently.

"Enzo!" Caroline hissed, outraged, shoving his arm down, even as Klaus' eyelashes fluttered and he made a soft noise.

"What? He's waking up. That's good, right? And he's English. He'll likely agree with me about the weird balls."

Caroline shushed Enzo, because waking up to a strange man talking about balls would certainly freak her out, so Caroline thought she should spare Klaus that. "Go get my water bottle," she hissed, taking a seat on the bench.

"An errand boy, am I?" Enzo muttered, but jogged away.

Klaus made another noise, louder this time, and his eyes popped open for an instant, before they squeezed shut again, and he brought a hand up to rub his head.

"Um, hi," Caroline started, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. "I'm Caroline. And you're… well, you know who you are. And I know who you are. Should I pretend that I don't? Sorry. I've never met anyone famous before, and I've also never injured anyone famous before so I'm not entirely sure what the protocol is. Not that I injured you. That was all Enzo. I could throw a better spiral than that when I was like nine."

He made another sound, low in his throat, and this time it sounded more amused than pained. Caroline took that as a good sign. He sat up, turned his head to look at her, and having those eyes trained on her was way different than seeing them on her television. Caroline hoped she wasn't blushing.

A thought occurred to Caroline, and she sucked in a deep breath, "Wait. You doknow who you are, right? Oh, god. Please tell me you don't have amnesia?"

He laughed softly, and when he spoke it was low and much more polite than Caroline thought she deserved, "No, rest assured I do not have amnesia. My name is Klaus. It's lovely to meet you, Caroline."

Well, that was a relief. "Okay, good. I mean, I thought it was a little Lifetime movie, but it would kind of be just my luck, you know? And I am so, so, sorry. I really should have been paying more attention, but honestly I never thought Enzo would make it anywhere near you. Please don't sue us. Your face looks fine, and that's what's important, right?"

"Just fine?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Perfect," Caroline tells him, "not that I think actors are stupid, but…"

He grabs the hand that she'd been gesturing wildly with, in her agitation, pressing the back of it against his knee, running his fingers over his wrist, "Breathe, love. I was teasing. I'm fine. No plans to sue, I promise. I have brothers so I've likely taken harder hits, with no lasting effects."

Caroline nods, and takes his advice, taking a deep breath in, and letting it out slowly, "Okay. Awesome. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he tells her, his thumb still rubbing circles on the delicate skin over her pulse. And if his goal was to get her to calm down? It sort of wasn't working. Because it kind of felt like he was flirting with her. But he couldn't be, right? Probably just a side effect of his head injury.

They both looked up, hearing Enzo's footsteps approaching. Caroline sends her friend a warning glare, because she'd gotten Klaus to agree to no lawsuits, and she really needed Enzo on his best behavior, so Klaus' mind did not change.

Enzo thrusts the Caroline's water bottle at her, before turning slightly to Klaus, "Apologies for your head."

Not exactly effusive, Caroline will admit, but it could have been worse. She offers the bottle to Klaus, "It's mine. No cooties, I promise."

He takes it without hesitating, taking a long sip, watching Enzo curiously, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your boyfriend, love?"

Enzo makes a face at that, and Caroline can feel herself doing the same, "Oh, he's not my boyfriend. Just my friend. He sat next to me at the most boring Introductory Sociology class in the history of the world. We bonded out of necessity. Been buds ever since."

Enzo grins, and Caroline braces herself, because there's a little hint of 'up to no good' there that she recognizes, "Right. Like comrades in arms, really. Besides, mate. If I was in love with her, do you really think I'd not have objected to the way you were watching her arse, every time she bent over?"

Caroline freezes, feels her face begin to heat, and notes Klaus stiffening next to her, "Enzo," she suggests tightly, "why don't you go wait in the car? I'll be right there."

With a mocking salute, Enzo lopes off, leaving them in a slightly awkward silence. "I'm sorry, about him," Caroline apologizes, "things just kind of come out of his mouth. It's sort of part of his charm, but maybe I'm just used to it."

He sets the water aside, and takes her hand again, "That's quite all right. And he wasn't entirely incorrect."

Caroline turns to look at him once more, opens her mouth, before she snaps it shut again. Because it wasn't every day that an attractive man so boldly admitted something like that. At least not to her.

"I'd like to think it wasn't as base, as your friend made it out to be, but I waslooking at you."

"Why?" Caroline blurts out.

Klaus shrugs, "I heard you laugh. And I looked over. And then I had a hard time looking away. Perhaps I should thank your friend. And his terrible aim. Because I'd not have gotten the opportunity to speak to you, otherwise."

Caroline's just about to make a joke, something about how he must have a concussion, but he speaks before she can, "Would you have dinner with me, tonight?"

She's silent, incredulous, for a long moment. "Seriously?" she asks, unable to keep the disbelief from coloring her tone.

"Completely," he replies, immediately. "You're beautiful, and interesting. Anywhere you want to go. I'll take you."

The 'yes' tumbles out before Caroline can even think about it. And he smiles, bright and genuine, and she doesn't think to try to back out. They exchange numbers, arranging to meet at a Greek place that Caroline likes, later that evening. She walks away, feeling sort of dazed, but excited, wondering if she has time to go shopping. She wants to dress to impress, and she's not sure anything she has fits the bill.

When she climbs into the driver's seat, Enzo takes one look at her, at the giddy grin she's fighting, and snorts, "Mr. Hollywood made a move, then?"

She rolls her eyes, sliding her keys into the ignition, "Be nice. He could have taken your life savings all because you have shitty aim."

"Au contraire, Gorgeous. My aim was flawless. A little gratitude out of you for my exceptional wingmanship would be nice."

In The Right Place

(Prompt from an Anon: model! caroline + model! klaus or photographer! klaus? Title from 'Eyes on Fire' by Blue Foundation. Smut.)

Bent over the sink, in the tiny bathroom, Caroline feels close to hyperventilating and that was not acceptable. She's been working as a photographer for three years now, and she's mostly silenced her critics. And there had been many. People who said Caroline had no talent, that she was booking jobs solely because of the people she'd met as a model. And then there were the people who whispered, quiet and malicious, behind her back, that she was only working because she'd fucked the right people.

But they were wrong. Caroline was good, and she knew it.

Scouted at sixteen, at a mall in Richmond, Virginia, she'd always been pragmatic about her modelling career. Youth was a commodity, and most girls were considered washed up by twenty-two. But Caroline liked the industry, liked the energy and the creativity, and so she had peppered anyone who'd humor her with questions, right from the beginning. She'd considered makeup, learned all sorts of tips and tricks (which had definitely come in handy, over the years) but it was photography, that she'd fallen in love with.

She'd pursued it, full force, like she did everything she wanted. Crammed in classes whenever possible, harassed her favorite photographers and crew members, soaking in the knowledge they'd shared, because she knew school could only take her so far. And yes, when the time came, she worked every contact she could, to get hired to take the pictures, rather than pose for them.

And Caroline wasn't ashamed of that. Anyone with half a brain knew that the fashion industry was about who you knew, as much as it was about what you could do. People who bitched about that were just bitter that they didn't have an in, and Caroline refused to let them drag her down.

One of the many lessons she'd learned as Miss Mystic Falls, battling catty beauty queens, that had proven to be surprisingly applicable in her adult life.

And another lesson, one she thought she'd had down, that she was kind of forgetting right now? Never let them see you sweat.

Weakness was not allowed, and if she walked onto set, looking like she was anything less than in control, everyone would know, would speculate about why. Caroline liked the crew, but she had no illusions that they wouldn't whip out their phones, and text their closest twenty friends, about her attack of the nerves, if she appeared frazzled.

And it would haunt her, for months. It wouldn't undo her carefully crafted image, not totally. But there'd be side-eyes, and murmurs, that Caroline had no desire to weather.

Which was why she was in the bathroom right now, fighting to get it together.

She cursed the stupid model who'd gotten the chicken pox, necessitating a last minute switch. What kind of adult had never had the chicken pox? And why was Klaus Mikaelson even available at the last minute? Shouldn't Mr. Top Model's schedule have been too packed?

Ugh, clearly the universe was conspiring against her.

The only bright side? At least the shoot wasn't underwear.

Caroline's all smiles when she comes out, bantering with the wardrobe assistant who's using a fork and sandpaper, to scuff up an expensive pair of boots, fielding questions from her assistant about the lights. She sees Klaus, set up in the makeup chair in the corner, his brother and manager, Elijah, sitting next to him, eyes glued to his phone

She knows she has to talk to him, knows that it'll look weird if she doesn't. So she squares her shoulders, and heads over to greet him, hoping he'll be discrete, and maybe not mention that time they had sex in a bathroom at a party.

Although, maybe she's giving herself too much credit. Caroline's heard things about him. Things that make her believe that it's entirely possible she's just one of the many, that maybe he won't even remember.

And wouldn't that be a blow to her ego, considering how often her mind wanders back there?

He can't look at her, as she approaches, the makeup artist, has a death grip on his chin, applying eyeliner (not enough to be noticeable – the denim brand they were shooting for wasn't exactly avant guarde so guyliner was a no. Just enough to make his eyes pop a little). But Elijah stands, ever the gentleman, and offers her a hand to shake, "Caroline Forbes, it's nice to meet you. The shoot you did for Nylon last month was spectacular. Are you and Niklaus aquatinted?"

Caroline's not entirely sure how to respond to that. She's a little surprised, first of all, because Elijah doesn't exactly strike her as a Nylon kind of guy. And she's a little relieved, that he appears to have no knowledge of the fact that she does, in fact, know Klaus. So either Klaus had forgotten her, or he's not the type to brag.

But the makeup artist takes a step back, to survey Klaus' face, and he takes the opportunity to turn to Caroline, ignoring the irritated clucking it causes, "We met years ago, when I was first starting out. You look fantastic, Caroline."

"Thank you, so do you," she replies automatically. He seems sincere, the glint in his eyes appreciative, as he takes her in. She's a little curvier, than she was back when she modeled, and sometimes people aren't so nice about it. But not having to be stick thin to fit into sample sizes, not having to live off of raw Kale and protein shakes (God, she'd missed cheeseburgers!) is a perk, in Caroline's opinion, and she likes the way her body looks, thank you very much.

And she's not lying, because he does look incredible. It's a sad fact of the world that male models have a longer shelf life, and Klaus, now in his late twenties, is more attractive than ever. He'd been a little baby-faced, four years ago, but he's lost that, wearing the stubble and the tattoos well.

It's purely aesthetic appreciation, Caroline tells herself. From a photographer's perspective. It would shoot well, that was the important thing, and Caroline forcefully pushed any more lust driven thoughts to the back of her mind.

"It's been, what? Four years? The after party after New York Fashion Week. You wore black. We danced, I think. Just before you retired."

Keeping her face neutral takes a fair amount of effort, because between the words, the suggestive lilt he'd used when he'd said 'danced' and the knowing way he's looking at her, Klaus has definitely not forgotten just how well they'd known one another.

At least her ego will make it through the day intact. Her nerves? That remains to be seen.

Four Years Earlier...

She's had a lot of champagne, and she feels amazing, high off of the number of shows she'd walked (not bad for an old lady, and she'd even closed a couple!). It was her last fashion week, not that anyone knew that yet, and Caroline was a firm believer in finishing strong. Plus it would drive interest, into the next stage of her life. And Caroline was determined that her new career would be every bit as successful as her last one.

And there wasn't much she couldn't do, once she put her mind to it.

Scanning the crowd, gathered in the very nice apartment of an obscenely rich socialite, Caroline was looking for a specific head of artfully messy dark blond curls.

They'd been ships in the night, all week, exchanging suggestive remarks and heated glances. Caroline was determined to take their flirting to the next level, and cap her week off right.

She was off to Paris tomorrow, a coveted internship with a photographer that most people would kill for. One night of fun, before weeks of grunt work. That was Caroline's plan.

She'd met Klaus Mikaelson two months ago, at shoot for a perfume ad. He's new to the game, pretty and charming, and she thinks he'll do well. She'd spent eight hours, in racy black lingerie, wrapped around him, while he'd looked her like he wanted to devour her. The camera click clicking in the background, and the dozen or so people watching, hadn't done much to cool the effect he'd had on her. It was only the boyfriend she'd had waiting back at home that had caused her to turn down his invitation back to his hotel.

But that boyfriend was old news, something she'd informed Klaus of when they'd first run into each other backstage at Dolce and Gabbana. His eyes had heated, and when he'd murmured, "I'm glad to hear it, love," he'd leaned closer than was strictly necessary, and she'd felt the brush of his lips on her neck.

She was looking forward to feeling them again. Hopefully in more interesting places.

She smiles when she spots him, his back to her, elbows against a bar in the corner. She walks towards him, presses against his back when she's close enough. She should probably be more careful, because someone could be sneaking a picture, right this second.

But Caroline doesn't care. Let them talk.

Klaus stiffens, when her hand slips around his front, and under the t-shirt he's wearing, but relaxes when she speaks, resting her chin on his shoulder for a moment, "Hey, stranger. Wanna dance?"

He turns to face her, leaning back to get a good look at her, his eyes widening as he takes in the very short hemline of her black dress. It takes him awhile to look back at her face, but Caroline doesn't mind. She waits patiently, sending him a tiny smirk, before she takes a step backward, crooking her finger in invitation. He follows, leaving his drink behind, his eyes a darker blue than usual, and Caroline knows that she has him. She spins, letting her wild curls fly, and sways her hips as she walks. She feels him, behind her, the warmth of him, the tantalizing scent, enveloping her. She stops in the middle of the room, where people are moving to the music, and this time it's him, pressing against her.

She melts into him, lifting a hand behind her, to tangle in his hair, just on the edge of rough as she rolls her hips. He seems to like it, if the breath he lets out, and the way he grasps her waist, is anything to go by.

Caroline gathers her hair over one shoulder, turns her head and presses a kiss, just under his jaw, "Do you remember that shoot where we met, Klaus?"

"Of course. I think about it often, all of that bare skin that I could only touch when the camera was on. Practically torture."

She lets out a hum, against his skin, takes another taste, relishing the way he clutches her more tightly, "You can touch me now. Anywhere you want." She punctuates the offer by grinding back against him, and she thinks she hears him groan softly, even as he drops a hand, toying with the hem of her dress. "But just for tonight."

"Not sure I like that, love."

She shakes her head, "Then walk away, Klaus. Cause that's all I can offer, right now."

He stills, tilting his head to look at her, and she lets him look at her, lets him read her resolve. This isn't the start of something, as much as she'd like it to be. But her whole life is about to change, and she's got to focus on that.

He nods, moving against her once again, "I suppose one night will have to be enough. For now."

Caroline ignores that last part, because there's no room in her head for future plans, and the now is pretty spectacular. She looks around, happy that no one seems to be paying them the least bit of attention. She puts her hand on his wrist, dragging it up, under her skirt, until his fingers graze her. She bites her lip and he mutters, "Fuck, Caroline," when he feels nothing but skin, where he'd probably been expecting silk or lace.

He touches her, just the lightest of brushes, and she tips her head back against his shoulder, widening her thighs slightly in invitation. He curses again, bites down on her bare shoulder, but then he's moving away, and Caroline wants to protest, but he grabs her hand, dragging her through the crowd.

He turns back, gaze dark and wild and filled with promises that Caroline hopes he's going to keep, but he doesn't speak, merely winds his fingers through hers, urging her to move faster. He goes up a staircase, and then down a hall, the noise of the party fading away. He seems to know where he's going, opening a door to a lavish bathroom and pulling her in. Then his hand is in her hair, angling her face, as his mouth seals over hers.

There's nothing gentle about it. It's all heat and want, aggressive and perfect. He moans when her lips part, and Caroline shoves him back against the door, her hands going for his belt.

He pulls back, batting her hands away, "Easy. Not so fast. I've plans for you."

And it's nice, to know that she's not the only one who's been thinking of this, but Caroline doesn't need to be seduced, and she tells him so, "We don't have time for romance, Klaus. Lock the door and fuck me."

It's possible he thinks about denying her, his expression contrary. But Caroline shakes her head, of course he's stubborn, and plows ahead, shimmying out of her dress, leaving her bare, save for her high heels and the necklace that dangles between her breasts.

Klaus lips part, as he eyes her, and he reaches behind him, fumbling for the lock on the door. Caroline takes a step back, when she hears it click, until she bumps into the counter. He's moving towards her, slowly. Too slowly, in Caroline's opinion, so she eases herself onto the marble, parts her thighs and holds his gaze, as she lets her hand wander down her stomach, her intentions clear.

It's bold, possibly bolder than she's ever been in her life, for all that she's always been upfront about liking sex. But there's something about the way Klaus looks at her, like she's the brightest thing in the room, that makes her confident.

And it's effective, because his strides lengthen, and he pulls his shirt over her head. He takes her hands again, curls them over the edge of the counter, and his voice is low when he speaks, "Everyone's too drunk or high or self-absorbed to care what we get up to, Caroline. I'm going to fuck you, I promise. But first, I want something else. Keep your hands there."

He drops to his knees, before she can protest, nipping at her inner thigh, like he senses what she's thinking. But when his mouth climbs higher, dropping kisses and taunting nips, she decides that she'll let him run the show, at least for a little while.

Because his mouth had featured heavily in her fantasies, and she wants to see if reality can even begin to measure up.

He hooks her knees over his shoulders and she rests back against the mirror. He holds her gaze as he licks her, for the first time. But when he finds her clit, traces tight little circles, before he sucks it into his mouth, her eyes flutter shut and she moans, tilting her hips to encourage him.

It's a blur after that. A fast climb to an incredible peak. She's sure she begs, and her hand finds its way back to his hair, when his fingers slip inside of her, crooking and rubbing until she's a fluttering mess.

Her eyes are still closed, when she feels him laugh softly against her stomach. She peels them open, asking, "What?" puzzled about what he could possibly find funny at a time like this.

"Nothing, love. I just like you like this. Languid and lovely and spent. I find myself wishing that I could have you in my bed. There's something to be said, for taking your time, hmm?"

He's smug, and Caroline can't have that, can she? So she uses her hand in his hair, to urge him up, going for his belt, once again. He seems to have no objections, this time, planting his hands on her thighs and leaning in to kiss her. Caroline gets his pants undone, sucking on his lower lip. "Please tell me you have a condom."

He nods, reaching back to dig out his wallet, fumbling when she scrapes her teeth along the line of his shoulder. Caroline admires the red mark, for a moment, fleetingly hopes it stays, as a reminder, for a couple of days. But she shakes that thought off, shoving his pants and boxers down, using her feet until they're out of her way, before she wraps her hand around the base of him. He's thick, and hard, and she clenches in anticipation as he tears open the foil packet, swirling her thumb around the wetness leaking from the tip. She releases him, to let him roll the condom on, catching his eyes and licking the taste of him off of her thumb. He shudders, eyes closing briefly, stepping into her, and smoothing his hands up her ribcage, "You don't make it easy on a man's control, Caroline."

Caroline arches her back, pressing her breasts into his palms as he toys with her nipples, "Take a hint. I don't want you in control, Klaus." She reaches down, pressing his cock where she wants it, sighing as she tilts her hips until he slips inside. She wraps her arms around him, nails digging in to his back as she pulls him into her, "Fast, hard, rough," she demands. "That's how I want you. That's the memory I want."

He lifts one of her legs, hitching it higher over his hip and they both moan at the new angle. His head drops to her shoulder and he braces a palm against the counter behind her, muttering, "Anything for you," as he pulls back, and drives back into her.

Caroline moans again, long and throaty, and he grins against her skin. And then there are no more words, though they're far from silent, gasps and moans and cries increasing in intensity and volume. Until his face is tight with strain, and his hand is shaking, when he brings it between them to toy with her clit, watching her face intently. Until he murmurs, "Come for me," and she does, his name on her lips and her thighs clamped around him, so tightly that she'll feel the strain for days.

It's so hard not to think back to that, when he still looks at her like she's the sun. He's doing his job, she reminds herself, seducing the camera so people will buy the jeans he's shilling. Men, with the hopes that they'll manage a fraction of his allure. Women with the hopes that their boyfriends will look at them like that.

They work for hours, and it goes well. He listens to her, anticipates what she wants. Doesn't act like he knows everything, like she's just some blonde bit of fluff, who thinks the camera's a toy. She's dealt with that, more than once, and never gracefully.

There's three set ups, in the plan. Slightly undone tie and suit jacket, on a leather couch, which they'd done first. White tee, against a brick wall, which they'd done second, in the bright afternoon sunlight. And she's just finishing up the third, where he's shirtless, jeans riding low on his hips, sprawled across downy white sheets, while she stands over him on a bed taking shots.

Totally impossible not to think about sex, in Caroline's opinion, given the situation, and the bedroom eyes he's giving her. She's far from a saint, and when he licks his lips she grits her teeth, reminding herself that she's a professional, damn it.

And as much as she wants to set her camera aside and straddle him, so she can lick his lips herself, she can't.

She pushes through, shifting to get a few more angles, before she calls for a break, and hops off the bed.

"Do you want me to stay on the bed?" he calls after her.

She doesn't look back, not trusting herself, "I'm not sure. Just give me a minute to check the shots. Someone get him some water," she directs loudly, and one of the interns scurries to comply.

He doesn't complain, and Caroline spends the next few minutes, scrolling through her laptop, discussing the pictures with the brand manager from the company, her assistant hovering nearby.

The rep seems pleased, with how things have gone, and leaves it up to Caroline to make the call. Caroline breathes a sigh of relief, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention, "Alright, that's a wrap! Great work everyone!"

A few cheers ring out, and Klaus sits up from the bed, taking the shirt he's offered, his eyes focused on her. But she's got things to do, so she offers him a small smile, before turning to her assistant to begin issuing instructions for clearing everyone out. She sees him head back to the makeup area, out of the corner of her eye, sees glimpses of him, as she supervises the crew and packs up her things. Caroline doesn't see him leave, and she tells herself that she isn't disappointed, when he doesn't say good bye.

Walking to her car, lugging her gear, she's considering her take out options. There's a piece of paper, tucked under her windshield wiper, and a little trickle of anticipation fizzes through her blood because somehow she knows that it's from him.

His writing is neat, and the note is to the point, his name and number at the end,

Caroline,

I'm hoping you won't turn me down again. Meet me for a drink?

She's digging her phone out, and punching in his contact info, and then sending a text, no part of her hesitant.

Caroline [THURSDAY 7:12 PM]:

Make it dinner? I'm starving.

She fidgets, waiting for an answer, and thankfully the reply comes quickly. Had he been waiting? She hopes so. Because as fondly as she looks back on the moments they'd shared, she thinks they could be so much more, and can't wait to find out if he agrees.

KLAUS [THURSDAY 7:13 PM]:

I'd love to. Name the place and I'll be there.