Notes: Oops, I forgot to upload these here! There from my mini drabble streak a couple weeks back, previously posted on Tumblr. This batch is All Human, the first one contains smut but the other 3 are sfw.

Good Old Fashioned Rivalry

(Prompt: rival competitive chorus conductor au + "last year i made a bet with you that my students would beat yours in the rankings this year i didn't think you'd actually REMEMBER fuck you won" SMUT).

Her phone buzzes on her coffee table and Caroline glares at it resentfully. She's got a pretty good idea about just who's texting her. She'd turned down Kat's offer to go out and drown her post-loss sorrows and Bon's out of town. Few of her other acquaintances would reach out at this time on a Friday evening.

Ugh, couldn't he have at least waited a day? Give her a little time to lick her wounds in peace so she could at least pretend to be gracious? She'd been so sure her programme was a winner, had drilled the kids mercilessly for weeks. It had paid off and their performance had been nearly flawless. They'd all been so pleased with themselves, beaming and bouncing as they'd made their way back to their seats. To lose by a measly tenth of a point had been heartbreaking and Caroline was already planning to bring 'Cheer up, you're awesome!' cupcakes on Monday and let them go wild at rehearsal, high on sugar and songs from Disney scores.

They deserved a break though apparently she didn't merit one.

Why had she made that stupid bet? And why couldn't the drinks she and Klaus had shared afterwards have worked their magic and made him forget it? If only they'd had a few more. Caroline certainly wished she could forget those minutes she'd spent on his lap in the back of the cab they'd shared. Remembering - how he'd smelled, the breathy way he'd rasped her name, the greed of his fingertips - had proven to be a curse over the last few months.

She'd replayed those minutes they'd spent together in her mind way too often. Caroline told herself, often and insistently, that she wasn't disappointed that things had ended prematurely, before things could get all that interesting or irrevocable. Klaus' hands had lingered on her thighs, just brushing her panties instead of slipping underneath, a frustrating tease that had left Caroline panting into his mouth. The driver had interrupted them, screeching to a stop and barking out a demand for payment. Jarred and embarrassed, carefully avoiding the heated look that hadn't left Klaus' eyes at the interruption, she'd scrambled from the cab. Caroline had straightened her skirt and scurried inside with a hasty goodnight tossed over her shoulder before Klaus could say anything.

If she'd given him the chance to talk she probably would have invited him in. And that would have been bad.

Too often Caroline found herself watching his hands at competitions instead of doing her job and paying attention to his choir. If they'd gone further? She'd never be able to keep her composure in his presence and it would be a disaster.

God, he'd be so smug if he knew.

Another text comes through and she groans, letting her head thump back into the couch. She's not surprised, Klaus is nothing if not persistent. That's what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She digs her spoon into her pint of ice cream, unearths a fortifying chunk of peanut butter cup and reaches for her phone.

Pure Dimpled Evil [8:47 PM]: Does tomorrow night work for you? What time shall I pick you up?

Pure Dimpled Evil [8:51 PM]: Don't tell me you're welching, Ms. Forbes. Whatever would the little ones say?

Pure Dimpled Evil [8:52 PM]: Aren't you supposed to set an example? Embody the spirit of sportsmanship or some such nonsense?

Ugh, she was going to need more than ice cream. She totally should have stopped and gotten wine. Maybe even gin.

Caroline [8:53 PM]: I'm not going to be mentioning any bets to my students. You probably shouldn't either. It won't look so good to your fancy helicopter parents that you're getting dates through nefarious means, will it?

Pure Dimpled Evil [8:54]: Nefarious? Hardly. You agreed quite readily. So certain you'd be victorious. I did enjoy the confidence, sweetheart, but you've no one to blame for your predicament but yourself. Besides, I've noted a certain inclination to win at all costs amongst my choir's parents. I dare say they'd approve of my methods.

That last point, Caroline could grudgingly concede, was probably correct. The prep school Klaus taught at charged astronomical tuition fees and she'd glimpsed more sternness and scrutiny than enjoyment or encouragement from the few parents who bothered to attend choral competitions. And okay, fine, she had made the bet willingly. Klaus might have goaded but that was no excuse. He was just an aggravating person in general, delighted in pushing her buttons. She really should just stop letting him.

Even if it was kinda fun.

Caroline [8:59 PM]: Sunday. Brunch.

Pure Dimpled Evil [9:00 PM]: Now, now I specified a proper date. Brunch does not qualify.

Caroline [9:00 PM]: Brunch dates are a thing!

Pure Dimpled Evil [9:01 PM]: I'm sure they're not. Brunch is for old married couples or out of town relatives that you don't particularly like. A date is dinner. Somewhere with low lighting and good drinks.

Caroline [9:02 PM]: Planning on getting me drunk enough to find you charming? Better bring your credit card.

Pure Dimpled Evil [9:03 PM]: Ouch, love. I'd be offended if you weren't lying through your pearly teeth.

Her jaw drops, and she sets her ice cream aside. A quick glance tells her it's becoming a melty mess, her conversation with Klaus having distracted her from eating.

Caroline [9:05 PM]: Excuse you, I am not.

Pure Dimpled Evil [9:05 PM]: You'd never have made the bet if you weren't willing to go out with me, Caroline. You tried your hardest to win because you loathe losing but I'd wager you're not all that disappointed in the outcome, are you?

She's really trying to be but Caroline can grudgingly admit, alone in the privacy of her apartment, that she might have a teeny fleet of butterflies in her stomach at the prospect of going on a date with Klaus. The good kind. They have serious chemistry, he's annoyingly charming, and distractingly hot. He's also far too aware of his positive qualities so she's not going to make it easy on him.

Caroline [9:06 PM]: Nope, sorry. I actually just really wanted to win.

Pure Dimpled Evil [9:07 PM]: Alright, then I suppose I misconstrued things. Best of luck next time. Until we meet again, Caroline.

She stares down at her screen for several long moments, the typed words slow to penetrate.

Wait, what?

Was she missing something? Caroline is baffled by his abrupt shift to formality. She expects more, for those three little dots that mean Klaus us tapping out some longer reply to pop up on her screen. But there's nothing and Caroline finds herself making a call.

He picks up on the third ring, sounding guarded, "Hello?"

"'Until we meet again?'" she spits out incredulously. "Could you be any more dramatic?"

"Likely, if I put the effort in. Would you perhaps like to offer some tips?"

Caroline ignores the mild dig, "What does that even mean?"

Klaus reply is measured, maddeningly patient, as if they're barely acquaintances. "It means that I imagine we'll not see each other until our paths cross again at the next meet. I believe it's next month though the precise date escapes me."

"What about…"

"I've no need to coerce a woman into dating me, love."

She makes a noise, one that doesn't even come close to being a word at all, pulls her phone away from her ear to glare at it. Was he calling her bluff here?

So annoying.

"Come over," she finds herself blurting out.

He's hesitant and she finds that it hurts a little. "Caroline…"

She hadn't exactly meant to say it but now that it's out there she has no desire to take it back. "Do you remember where my apartment is?"

"Yes, but…"

Caroline cuts him off, "You're right, okay? And I'm probably literally never going to say that again so enjoy it this one time."

His tone warms up considerably and Caroline's reasonably sure he's smiling, "Is that a yes to dinner?"

"Tomorrow. At 7," Caroline agrees.

"Perhaps I'll not need to pick you up, hmm? I'll see you in twenty minutes."

He hangs up before she can say anything else and Caroline sets her phone aside, smiling in a way that would be super embarrassing if there were any witnesses present.

That's when she realizes that she is so not dressed appropriately.

Her leggings and faded Whitmore sweatshirt leave her decently covered but that was kind of the problem. A late evening visit from a guy you'd been having serious dirty thoughts about called for clothes of the inappropriate variety.

Crap. She's got to hurry.

Klaus buzzes eighteen minutes later – and while generally Caroline is a big believer in punctuality this one time she could have used a couple extra minutes to prepare. Her apartment is only tidy-ish (she'd planned to rectify that tomorrow) with a pile of grading strewn over the coffee table, a small buildup of dishes in the kitchen, and a mountain of laundry that's waited to be folded on the loveseat.

Naturally, she shoves Klaus against the door as soon as he's inside, running her palms up over the thin fabric that covers his torso and tugging off his jacket.

What? It's the perfect distraction.

He seems to have no complaints, burying his hands in her hair as soon as they're free from his sleeves and slanting his mouth over hers. There's nothing tentative in his kiss and Caroline's lips part on a sigh, meeting his eagerness with her own.

He tastes minty, like he'd stopped to brush his teeth before coming over and Caroline smiles against his mouth. Klaus pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers. "What?"

She bites down on her lower lip in an attempt to stifle herself. "Nothing. Hi. Thanks for coming over."

His laugh is soft and his lips brush hers again. "Thanks for inviting me over." He pulls back when she tries to deepen the contact, sucking in a harsh breath when her hands slip under his shirt. He goes very still and she takes the opportunity to explore the tense muscle under her palms thoroughly. He swallows harshly, sounds a little strained, "We don't have to…"

She pauses, stepping back slightly. A quick glance down shows that, according to the bulge in his jeans, Klaus' body is very much on board. Still, that didn't necessarily mean anything. "Do you not want to?"

He moves quickly, flipping their positions, hitching her leg around his hip. She'd changed into a dress, a floaty little summer thing, and his eyes widen slightly as his hand slides up her thigh, curling around her hip. Her bare hip.

She'd figured underwear would just get in the way.

"I definitely want to," he rasps.

"Good," Caroline breathes, tightening her leg and tilting her hips so he grinds against her. "Glad we're on the same page."

Klaus needs no further encouragement, his head dipping so his lips slide over her shoulder, nudging the strap of her dress aside. His hand on her hip encourages her to keep moving and she obliges, resting more of her weight against the door. His stubble scrapes over her skin, following the path of her falling dress, and Caroline fights a shiver. His free hand tugs when the fabric catches on the peak of her nipple and then his mouth is there, hot and wet and greedy.

She works her other arm out herself so her dress pools at her waist, sliding her hand into his hair when he moves to switch to the neglected breast. She doesn't let him though her body's screaming for more, yanking his mouth back to his and pushing away from the door. They kiss frantically, hands roaming over heated skin and Klaus lets her walk him backwards, helps her toss his shirt aside and takes the opportunity to shove her dress off her hips. "Bedroom," Caroline manages, ripping her mouth from his to suck in a lungful of air. "And take off your pants."

Their hands tangle around his belt buckle, clumsy and shaking. She finds herself muffling a laugh in his shoulder even as she gets his zipper down and her hand inside. He shudders when she wraps her fingers around him and the accompanying strangled grunt of her name is intensely satisfying. She pulls back to watch his face, to enjoy his darkening eyes and slack lips as she learns how he likes to be touched.

They stumble into her bed and go down in an ungraceful heap. Klaus manages to pin her hands, presses them into the mattress next to her head. He attempts to look stern though it's less than successful, flushed as he is, his hair ruffled from her hands. "I have been thinking about this for far too long to come on your hands the first time."

She attempts a matching seriousness, "So what you're saying is that handjobs are cool the second time?"

He pushes off from her, standing so he can strip out of the rest of her clothes. "Sorry, but no. I've plans for the second time as well."

She props herself up on her elbows, doesn't even attempt to make it look like she's doing anything but ogling him. It's only fair, she thinks, with the way his eyes are glued to her. "And when exactly do I get my turn?"

Klaus grins, his hands hooking under her knees and pulling her closer to the edge of the bed. "Perhaps another bet's in order? Since the last one worked out so well."

She's not exactly going to argue, not when he's dropping to his knees, pressing his lips to her inner thigh. She's about to question him about the terms of said bet (and mock him mercilessly if it was anything about getting her to scream his name) but Klaus' thumb slips over her folds gently, parting her and pressing deeper until it's slickened with her arousal, easing the way as he strokes her. She'd be embarrassed by how wet she was if she hadn't just had her hand around his cock, felt how much he wanted her. She moans when he finds her clit and begins drawing slow circles that have her thighs twitching.

Clearly Klaus was adept at distraction techniques. She'd have to remember that.

Back Office Intrigue (Part Two).

(Prompt: "dear laine, i have to know what's going to happen next with caroline working in klaus' bar!" The first part can be found in Chapter 76. Rated K+)

It takes a few weeks for Caroline to realize that something is off at the bar.

She's been settling in to Chicago nicely, had spent a weekend stalking garage sales so her apartment finally looked like someone actually lived there. She got a great deal on a little dining table and a set of chairs, couldn't wait to have people over now that they would actually had somewhere to sit. Her mom's down to a single call filled with alarming crime stats every three days (a marked improvement from the twice daily phone briefings Caroline had endured when she'd first arrived). Her classes are mostly interesting, save for the one with the drone-y professor. She figures 3 out of 4 ain't bad at all, is cautiously optimistic about future semesters. Plus, she actually likes her job.

All in all, life is pretty sweet. Maybe that's why she's slow on the uptake, having been too busy reveling in how well things were going.

Caroline had been a mess internally while preparing to finally move out of Virginia. She'd put on a brave face, brushed off the concerns people in Mystic Falls had been free to share with her. It had been harder when she'd been alone. Privately Caroline had endless lists of worries, sleepless nights filled with anxiety, doubts about if she was doing the right thing.

Still, she'd taken the leap, landed firmly on her feet. Was really freaking proud of herself, knowing that she'd done it and was well on her way to taking name and kicking ass.

When she feels a little more at home, grows comfortable at the bar and with her coworkers, that's when she begins to notice the weirdness.

Klaus seems to practically live at work (though Enzo had informed Caroline that wasn't actually the case, that Klaus had a very nice place around the corner though he loathed entertaining his siblings so Enzo had only been inside twice). When in the bar Klaus spent a lot of time in his office, glued to his laptop or tablet. He did hop onto the floor whenever things got crazy or they were short staffed. Caroline appreciated it, figured it was rare. In all her years working at The Grille she didn't think she'd seen the owner even uncap a beer let alone mix anything. Klaus wasn't super chatty from what she'd seen but he could turn it on with customers, left more than a few ladies discretely tugging their tops down to show more cleavage when he turned to pull bottles.

He flirted lightly with them, flashed his dimples and collected their money. Tossed all the numbers that were not so stealthily slipped his way in the garbage at the earliest opportunity. She wondered idly if he was seeing someone, had been looking for an opportunity inquire without making it seem like she was angling to throw her hat into the ring. Enzo wouldn't let her hear the end of it if he thought Caroline was interested in Klaus and Rebekah would catch wind of it. She'd thawed slightly in the last few weeks and Caroline had no desire to take any steps back so Caroline's curiosity about Klaus' relationship status remained unsatisfied.

That bugged her though she refused to look too deeply into why exactly that was.

Her shift today had started at 2 and it's been a strange one. Usually the middle of the week is quiet and she's able to sneak some time with her textbooks. Not today. There's been a steady stream of people through the door, every seat filled for most of the afternoon and into the evening. A rush had just passed and Caroline's depositing some cash in the till, thankful it's over. She fans herself, taking a much needed breath glancing around to survey the newly empty bar area. Klaus is to her left, finishing up a round of kamikazes for a group of frat rats, but no other customers are waiting. Something cold nudges her bare arm and Caroline jumps in surprise before taking the offered bottle of water gratefully. "Thank you," she tells Sophie, uncapping it and taking a deep swallow. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, "Why in the world are all these people here at 6 on a Tuesday?"

Sophie shakes her head ruefully, "I think there's a concert nearby. People are pre-drinking."

Caroline makes a face, doesn't try to hide her disgruntlement since all the customers are out of ear shot. "Ugh, my feet are killing me and I've got another two hours to go."

Sophie elbows her, tipping her head and casting a significant look in Klaus' direction. Caroline's a little puzzled by it, raises a questioning brow. Klaus has accepted payment for the drinks and he nudges Caroline over to slip it into the register. He makes it clear he's been listening, "You can sit for a minute if you'd like, love. Things look like they'll be quiet for a stretch."

She smiles but refuses. "Thanks, but I'm good. It's my own fault for wearing new boots. Gotta suffer and break them in."

Klaus glances down at her feet for a moment and shakes his head, "I'd comment on how baffling I find the idea that you wouldn't just buy something comfortable but I'll refrain. I have sisters so I realize it's pointless to attempt reason in such situations."

"Men, so condescending." She hip checks him gently and he tosses her a mock glare, "There's a reason we steal your clothes, you know. It's because they're just made comfier than ours. Probably because men are giant whiny babies."

He rolls his eyes but it's good natured and Caroline catches Sophie's shocked face, notes her tense posture. Klaus is busy checking the float level so she mouths, 'What?' behind his back, wondering what's got the other bartender so freaked looking. Sophie shakes her head frantically, grabbing up one of the rags and turning away to painstakingly wipe the bar when Klaus steps back. His eyes don't shift in her direction, however, so her diligent cleaning goes unnoticed. "I'm going to grab a couple cases from downstairs. We're low."

Caroline's tempted to offer to help (sue her, she likes to watch his forearms flex while he lifts heavy things) but she wants to know what's got Sophie, a ball buster from New Orleans who's completely unafraid to smack down creepers or rowdy groups, so spooked more.

Which sucks because Klaus is wearing really good jeans.

He walks away and Caroline manages to wait until he's turned the corner before she sidles over to Sophie, grabbing her arm. "What is your deal?"

"My deal?" Sophie tosses the rag down, crossing her arms. "I wanna know what kind of blackmail you have on Klaus. He offered to let you sit! You called him a whiny baby and he didn't immediately fire you. Come on. Is it some kind of sex tape? I bet he's into the freaky stuff."

Caroline blinks (forcing her brain to focus and not to wander down the path of contemplating Klaus and any variety of sexy times). "He was just being nice?" she finally says and it comes out like a question.

That only makes Sophie more incredulous. "Klaus Mikaelson isn't nice," she insists. "Ever. I have seen him make at least a half a dozen servers cry. A couple of customers too."

Huh. Caroline could maybe picture it. Klaus was sometimes a little… intense. He was a perfectionist (not that Caroline had any room to judge) and she'd always gotten the vibe that he missed absolutely nothing. "He's always seemed fine to me. Not warm and cuddly but not a full on despot either."

"He is a despot. The worst of them. I half expected him to berate you for complaining while you're raking in tips. Remind you of where the door was, that he'd have no problem filling your job."

"If you hate him so much why do you work here?"

Sophie shrugs, "Good location, killer tips. And I'm actually good at this so he leaves me alone as long as I keep my mouth shut and work my ass off."

A woman approaches, drawing Caroline's attention. She orders wine and Caroline's glad it's something easy because her mind is whirling, turning over the new info. Sophie's not the drama llama type, she's blunt and doesn't mince words. Caroline believes what she's been told. Several other things, observations, are clicking into place. The bar's always quieter when Klaus is behind it, the usual banter and jokes between the staff absent. She'd noted it, figured it was just because he was the boss. It also explains all of Rebekah's snide little remarks, Enzo's concerned inquiries into how she was finding working for Klaus.

Why, Caroline wondered, was he only nice to her?

She feared the answer was going to make thing complicated even as she was secretly thrilled that maybe her quickly brushed aside thoughts about Klaus – his forearms, his lips, what he liked to do in his down time – might not be entirely one sided.

Now the question was – what was she going to do about it?

Food (And) Fights (Part Two)

(Prompt: "a part 2 for your "Klaus and Caroline own a restaurant" AU where Klaus makes Caroline soup because she's." A Sequel to the second drabble in Chapter 39. Rated T).

Klaus is careful to keep his steps quiet, takes pains to avoid the creaky spots in the floor. He's learned the hallway to Caroline's office well in the last two years and he has a sneaking suspicion that she's hiding there this morning for a reason.

It's a Thursday, one of their busiest evenings of the week. Their reservation list is full and service starts in a few hours. Klaus hasn't seen Caroline yet which is something of a first. Her assistant, April, had popped into the kitchen to check on things periodically. Klaus had never thought much of the timid mouse of a girl – she tended to avoid him – but he'd been reluctantly impressed by her stealth. He'd only ever noticed her as she was slipping out the door, if he'd know she was there at all.

It was almost as if she was purposefully staying below his radar.

Klaus was fairly certain he knew why.

He'd spent the previous evening at Caroline's. She'd fallen asleep on the couch far earlier than she usually did. When he'd carried her to bed she'd seemed warm and he hadn't been able to resist laying a hand on her forehead to check if she was feverish. That had awoken her and she'd managed to pry her eyes open enough to glare up at him, bat his hand away, and mutter something he hadn't been able to decipher (though the prickly tone had been unmistakable) when she'd rolled away to bury herself in her pillow. Klaus had retreated to the living room, finished his wine and scratched out some menu ideas until he'd been tired enough to sleep.

Sleep had turned out to be elusive, his bed partner restless and throwing off an insane amount of heat. Klaus had been kicked more than once, and Caroline's breathing had grown audible as the night wore on, becoming hoarse scratch as she tossed fitfully.

He'd readied himself to fight a battle in the morning. Caroline had never taken a sick or personal day in the two plus years he'd known her, too much of a control freak to let a little thing like mere illness stop her from running the restaurant. Getting her to take regular days off was enough of a challenge and Klaus often resorts to blackmail and bribery (though, to be fair, he benefitted from those arrangements enormously) to push Caroline into a little rest and relaxation. Convincing her to stay home and recuperate was going to be a challenge, Klaus had known, even though she was quite obviously taking ill.

Unfortunately his mental preparations had been for naught.

When he'd awoken he'd found the bed empty, a note from Caroline in the kitchen saying she'd gone in early to get a start on the day.

A tactical retreat.

It was also a sign that she knew her position was weak and Klaus decided he just needed to pick his moment. He'd gone through his usual routine, made a pit stop at the market on his way to the restaurant, and headed directly to the kitchen instead of barging into Caroline's office.

Caroline would relax, let her guard down, and think she'd won. Klaus barked a few orders but was content to let the prep cooks handle things while he set up his own station with the ingredients he'd bought, and got to work.

A few people had flitted in to ask him if Caroline was all right, Marcel, who ran the bar mentioned that she'd actually cancelled a meeting with a vendor, a sure sign that her mind over matter approach only went so far, while Caroline's good friend Bonnie had popped in the vent her frustrations about Caroline's stubbornness, and told Klaus he'd better have a plan to get her to go home.

It was possibly the most cordial she'd ever been to him, despite the fact that he and Caroline had passed a year together awhile back, and Klaus had strenuously resisted the urge to comment and ruin it, had merely gestured to the chopped veg on his board, the chicken stock building on the stove, and assured her he'd take care of it.

The things he did for Caroline Forbes.

Once the soup was finished – chicken noodle with a few embellishments, no need to mess with the classics – he'd packed it up in a To Go container, along with a loaf of fresh baked bread, and headed to Caroline's office.

He pauses just outside the door, straining his ears. It's cracked a bit and he can hear her moving around. His timing is fortuitous and Caroline's soon letting out deep, hacking coughs, gritting out, "Nope, no. I refuse," once she's done.

Klaus nudges the door wider with his foot, "Talking to yourself is not a good sign, love. A sign of insanity, is it not?"

Caroline's wide eyed when she glances up, and Klaus notes the shadows and redness marring their usual bright blue unhappily. Her office is warm but she's wearing one of his sweaters, a thick wool thing, and he's fairly certain she's got several layers additional layers of her own on underneath. She clears her throat, attempts a smile, "Hey. How's prep going?"

"Perfect, as always. How's trying to pretend you're not sick and miserable going?"

He can tell she considers arguing, mouth thinning. But a shudder wracks her frame, a violent sneeze tearing out of her and her eyes water as she reaches for a tissue. Klaus sighs and enters the room fully, closing the door behind him while watching Caroline expectantly. She deflates slightly, leaning back in her chair and tossing her pen aside. She rubs her temple with the heel of her hand, "Ugh, my head is killing me. But we have that magazine profile scheduled next week and…"

"Not until Wednesday, plenty of time," Klaus points out, cutting her off. He sets the bag he'd brought on her desk, circling it to come up behind her. He lifts her hair, laying a hand on her neck, finding it sweat damp and hot to the touch. She leans into him with a sigh, "Mmm, your hands feel nice. Cold."

"They're not. You're just feverish."

"Fevers are for losers," Caroline mumbles.

He huffs out a laugh, leaning forward to press a kiss to the crown of her head as he pulls her chair out from her desk. "Fevers are merely a sign that you need to slow down. It's not going to go away if you ignore it, Caroline."

She's still reluctant, her movements sluggish as he urges her to her feet, "What, did you get a medical degree, Dr. Klaus?"

"Do you want to go to a doctor?" Klaus asks reasonably. "Because I'd be delighted to take you and have the opportunity to say I told you so when he tells you to take a few days for recovery."

That would irritate Caroline like few other things.

She makes a soft noise, half grumble half growl, and turns to face him. "One day. Tops. I can't miss a weekend."

Klaus refrains from arguing that she very well could – her staff was excellent, well trained and more than capable of handling things without Caroline's direct supervision for a bit – knowing that it would only get her back up and he rather thought he was winning at the moment. No need to spoil it.

He retrieves her coat, holds it open and assists her in shrugging it on. He tips her chin up to look into her eyes, "I made soup, it should help. Drink some tea too, will you? Josh is going to run you home since I'm sure me leaving now will only make you worry more even though I'd be back in plenty of time for service."

Caroline's blinking up at him, warmth and something like shock softening her gaze, "You made me soup?"

He's unsure why that's giving her pause, "I make you food all the time."

"Yeah, because you kinda get off on watching me eat it, Chef Perv."

It's said with a tiny smirk and Klaus can't deny it. "You make the most delightful noises, sweetheart."

"Which you'll miss when I eat your soup. Though I'm a gross sweaty mess and probably not all that tempting."

He rolls his eyes, "You're not a mess. The farthest thing from gross. Just a bit worn around the edges. The soup will help and that knowledge is more than enough for me."

She wraps her arms around his waist, cuddling close and resting her forehead against his shoulder. "Thank you," she mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss just above his collar before she straightens. Seemingly resigned for now, she sighs and glances around her office, "You'll call me if anything explodes? And fill me in on all the non-life or death things later?"

"Tomorrow," Klaus says firmly. "Because you'll be asleep when I get to your place."

"You don't usually stay over on Thursdays," Caroline says, sounding puzzled.

Slightly exasperated Klaus shakes his head, "I do when you're sick."

She studies him for a long moment, Klaus doesn't try to hide his concern. Finally she nods, "Okay, then. I'll see you later."

"You will. Eat the soup. Drink…"

"Some tea," Caroline finishes with a teasing smile. "I know you think it cures everything, as long as it's the right tea and not my weird tea. What was it you called the last box I bought? Fruity garbage, I believe."

It's something they bicker over frequently and Klaus lets her tease him, gently ushering her out of her office and towards the door that will lead them to the small parking lot at the back of the restaurant. Josh is waiting, ready to go as Klaus had asked. Klaus sees Caroline shiver and opens the door of the car for her. "In," he tells her, ignoring her annoyed sigh. "Text me when you get home, yeah?"

"I thought I was the worry wort in this relationship," Caroline grumbles, bucking herself in. "You're supposed to be Mr. Cool and Laconic Moody Pants."

Klaus doesn't take the bait, knowing that bickering will only delay her departure and the sooner Caroline's comfortable in her flat the better.

He won't deny her little peevishness, not when he'd won.

Accidental Matchmaker

(Prompt: "Caroline and Klaus are neighbors. Her cat keeps bothering him and leaving "surprises"." Rated K+)

When Klaus goes to water the plants on his balcony he's surprised by how good they look. It's the first time he's paid them any mind since he'd moved in and Bekah showed up with them as a housewarming gift. He dips a finger in to test the soil and is distracted by a metallic glint peeking out from under an azalea bloom. Puzzled, Klaus unearths a half buried bottle cap, digging a little deeper to find a second.

It can't have fallen, not embedded as it was, and he stoops to get a closer look.

Only to find a small treasure trove of shiny objects.

Bottle caps, bits of a bright blue plastic bag. An earring, three quarters, and the top of a tin of lip gloss.

All of which, save maybe the coins, he's certain don't belong to him.

He glances around, wondering if he's perhaps managed to anger a neighbour and they're taking some sort of useless petty revenge by attempting to sabotage his flowers. He's not met anyone really, keeps odd hours, but perhaps that's led to noise? But urely someone would ask him politely to keep it down instead of resorting to this?

Or maybe he was overestimating the average human's ability to be mature. He had plenty of reasons (and a stellar example in Kol) to believe that some people took longer than others to accept certain adult realities.

Annoyed, Klaus picks the detritus out of his planters, planning on tossing it all in the bin once he's back inside. The earring catches his eye and he holds it up, studying it thoughtfully. It didn't look cheap, or like the sort of thing that one would toss away randomly.

He pockets it, just in case he was mistaken about how it had made its way to his balcony. Maybe that one was an honest mistake.

"Since when do you have a cat?"

He's in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher (Bekah's never quite cottoned on to the fact that, as a guest, she should offer to help with the washing up when she shows up for dinner unannounced) when her question, loaded with a healthy amount of disgust, floats over to him.

"I don't," he calls back shortly. He's always preferred dogs.

"Then what is that orange thing doing digging around in your flowers? It looks like it has fleas."

Klaus rolls his eyes, finishing up before joining Rebekah in the living room. She's sipping her wine, staring out the glass doors with distaste. Sure enough, a cat is perched on his railing, pawing at the dirt right where Klaus had found the first bottle cap. Rebekah's exaggerating slightly, the cat's not very large, but slightly plump and wears a blue collar, clearly indicating it's cared for.

"Must belong to one of my neighbors."

"Rude," Rebekah sniffs. "You should call your building manager and complain. What if you were allergic?"

"I'll wait and see if it's a problem, sister dear. I'd rather not have to deal with tedious politics."

That sends Rebekah off on a rant, and Klaus half listens to her complain about the musician who moved in across the hall from her, some bloke named Enzo who apparently took great amusement in needling Rebekah every time they shared a lift.

He makes a mental note to check the planter later, just to see if the cat was the culprit behind the things he'd found.

When he remembers to check he finds another earring, an entirely different one than the first. That one had been gold, dangly with tiny blue stones at the end. This one is black, round and edged in silver. He knows enough about jewellery to recognize that the posts are sturdy, well made, confirming his initial suspicions. Someone will likely miss them.

Klaus rolls it absently as he considers his options, is startled by a soft thump next to him. He turns, finds the cat in question blinking up at him. "Hello," Klaus says, immediately wincing and glad that he's alone. He reaches out a cautious hand, is surprised when the cat immediately bumps his fingers with its head.

Odd. He'd always heard that cats weren't the friendly sort. The cat walks closer, tail twitching, its eyes on the earring Klaus holds. It makes a noise, paw reaching out, when Klaus holds it farther away. He gives its head an absent scratch, fingers reaching for the collar. The cat doesn't seem to mind and Klaus finds a tag easily.

There's an address, two apartments over, and Klaus hesitantly reaches out for the cat, relaxing when it seems to have no issue being picked up. It even begins to purr slightly, settling into his arms comfortably.

He figures he might as well take the little kleptomaniac home. Finally meet the neighbors.

The pretty blonde who opens the door is a welcome surprise and Klaus spares a glance down, glad to see his shirt is decent if unfortunately coated in orange fur. Her blue eyes widen, taking Klaus in before dropping to the cat with a look of dread. "Oh no, what did Cheddar do now?"

"Cheddar?" Klaus finds himself asking, lips curling in amusement.

She looks a touch embarrassed as she takes the cat, "Little me had cats named Oreo and Marshmallow. The theme just kinda stuck. Did he sneak into your place? The couple in 3A sneak him Doritos and he takes that as an invite to just waltz into people's homes now. I'm trying to convince him he wants to be an indoor cat but he's stubborn."

"He's remarkably friendly," Klaus notes.

She sighs, "Yeah, he pretty much flopped right onto my lap and made himself at home when I went to the shelter. I couldn't say no."

Klaus silently admires the cat's technique. "Don't worry, he's not guilty of breaking and entering. Merely some minor trespassing. A spot of vandalism but my flowers seem no worse for wear."

Her brows furrow in confusion and Klaus elaborates. "He's been using my balcony to store his hoard." Klaus fishes the earrings out of his pocket, holding them out in an open palm.

She groans, "Bad Cheddar," she admonishes the cat, though Klaus imagines that the way she holds him close and strokes his head diminishes the effect of the scolding. The cat seems utterly unabashed, snuggling into the woman's arms and preening at the attention. "Seriously, thank you for bringing those by. I've been looking for the gold one all week."

"It's no trouble," Klaus assures her and she smiles in gratitude. He should probably take his leave but he can't resist lingering, sneaking glances at her face so he'll be able to capture the freckles that dust her nose when he sketches her later. "I'm Klaus," he offers. "I'll make sure to check for any additional deposits. Just in case he reoffends."

She shifts, holding out her hand and grasping his firmly, "Caroline. And thank you." She bites her lip, head tipped to the side as she considers him. "Do you maybe want to come in? I just made coffee and I usually like to do the whole welcome to the neighborhood thing."

"Do you?" Klaus teases, "tell me more."

"Sometimes there are cookies," she informs him, feigning seriousness as a slight smirk graces her features. "But I've been swamped at work. Would you accept some store bought scones? I really need to grocery shop properly. I'll fill you in on all the building gossip."

Klaus thinks it's an exceptionally tempting offer and doesn't hesitate to accept.

Perhaps he'd been wrong there is something to be said for cats.