Notes: This one is the last of the trope x trope prompts that were submitted on Tumblr.
Sweet As
(Prompt: #45 Chocolates of Romance + #53 Mutual Pining. Title from "Cherry Wine" by Hozier. Rated T.)
Caroline's always a bit tired the morning after the full moon but, given how many of her neighbors also feel the moon's effects, she's far from the only one. She chooses to sacrifice sleep, doesn't turn furry and spend the night racing through the forests. Caroline spends most of the night prepping for the rush of wolves that pop by her café searching for something rich and chocolate based.
She'd noted the ragged edges of her customers her first month in business, how even the dedicated caffeine freaks chose hot chocolate, how all the non-chocolate dessert selections got passed over. Still new in town she hadn't quite been able to put her finger on the reasons for the change. Her neighbor had filled her in.
Bonnie's a witch, a powerful one from an old family, and Caroline had learned long ago that witches made better allies than enemies. One never knows when a protection spell might be needed – sometimes the urge to put down roots is too strong for her to fight and she's slow to wake when comfortable in her tree. Bonnie had been slow to trust, closed off and only willing to answer questions with bland pleasantries. Caroline had persisted and, helped out by her kick ass snickerdoodle recipe, Caroline had managed to win Bonnie over.
They have a standing weekly girls night, usually spend it at the bar where Caroline teases Bon about her not so subtly ogling of Enzo's forearms.
When learning that her new town housed a large pack of werewolves, as well as frequent wolf-y visitors, Caroline had recognized a business opportunity. Chocolate helps with a wolf's recovery from turning, provides a much needed post moon pick me up. As an admitted chocoholic Caroline has developed a decent repertoire of recipes to soothe her own cravings.
Baking them up en masse and using them for profit? A no brainer. The day after the full moon has become one of the busiest of the month, helps Caroline pad her emergency funds nicely.
She's not a total saint, however, and uses the day's tips to buy herself something pretty. Caroline figures she deserves it. She spends the night at the shop, first slaving over a hot oven, later crashing on the couch in her office. Her home is surrounded by forests and while she's strong enough to fight off a werewolf she likes the town, it's quirky mix of supernatural types and oddball humans. She sees no need to rock the boat by injuring one of the wolves, to risk the pack retaliating. They steer clear of her cherry grove, likely able to sense the magic of it even better in their wolf forms. Caroline appreciates it, would like for her little bubble of peace out in the forest to stay pristine.
When the bell above the door chimes, a familiar frame slipping inside, Caroline's bleariness instantly melts away. She straightens as Klaus pushes the door shut firmly, locking out the chilly fall air. She wriggles her fingers in a too enthusiastic greeting – it's been a couple of days since she'd seen him last and she can't quite tamp down her rush of pleasure at the sight of him. He smiles warmly so at least she's not alone. He begins weaving his way through the tables and chairs to get to the counter, ignoring the few customers scattered about the café.
Marcel, Klaus' second in command, huffs out a laugh from his booth near the windows, lifting his cup in Caroline's direction.
Perhaps the leader of the werewolf pack has something to do with her desire to keep the peace. A small something. He's very nice to look at, walks and talks with a confidence that she can't help but be intrigued by.
They'd danced at the town's fall festival a few nights ago and Caroline's been thinking way dirtier thoughts ever since she'd gotten up close and personal with the way his body can move. He's been busy with pack business, hasn't stopped by, probably a good thing because Caroline probably would have blushed highlighter pink had she run into him that first morning.
She'd never violate the health code the way they had in her dreams but taking Klaus' coffee order with the images so fresh in her mind would have been awkward. Today, with a few days to let her fantasies settle, she's able to smile back and flip her ponytail over her shoulder, confident she can have a completely normal, only mildly to moderately flirty conversation with him.
Without staring at his mouth, hopefully.
A good thing because she does like talking to him. He's funny in a way that skews slightly mean, so Caroline's been comfortable enough to drop her perky customer service façade drop and be herself.
She pours him a mug of hot chocolate as he leans a hip against the counter. "How would you like it today?" she asks.
His lips curl, a challenge sparking in his eyes, "Surprise me."
Huh. That's new. She thinks back, running through the list of things she's seen him consume, but Klaus' tastes are varied, he rarely orders the same thing. She's taken it as a personal challenge, mentally pats herself on the back when he asks for something a second time.
Makes sure it pops up in the bakery case more often.
She drums her fingers on the counter, twisting to consider the row of flavored syrups and powders and toppings she has. "If I had a liquor license this would be easier." She's run into him at the bar plenty of times and he's much pickier about booze. It's always bourbon on the rocks, from a fancy, slightly dusty, bottle that Enzo seems to pull out just for him.
Klaus makes a low sound, a laugh he tries to swallow, "Ouch. Not sure that's a flattering statement, love."
The curl of his lips doesn't fall and Caroline has no problem scoffing. "Please. I didn't mean it like that. It's a pretty well known fact that werewolves can hold their liquor. Besides, even if it was a dig your ego can handle the blow."
"Perhaps I'm feeling fragile. I did break most of the bones in my body not four hours ago."
She turns back to him, running her eyes over him anew, looking for signs of an injury. Klaus' pack had been hosting another from a territory on the coast. A few strangers had wandered into her shop, had been pleasant enough, if a little intense. She'd felt like a butterfly pinned under glass a time or two when she'd caught one of them studying her.
She'd figured they'd just been trying to figure out what she was. Dryads are much rarer than wolves or witches.
She wracks her memories, trying to remember if she'd said anything about Klaus to the visiting wolves. She hopes they hadn't been hanging out at her place in hopes of spotting one of his weaknesses. Klaus doesn't often mingle outside the pack. Caroline is well aware that his attempts to get to know her are an anomaly.
She hasn't heard anything this morning about the meetings going awry, had assumed they'd all happily howled at the moon together last night, but none of her wolf customers had been particularly talkative. They'd all been too focused on inhaling as many chocolatey confections as possible. Perhaps it had been a post battle fatigue, not just the regular human to wolf to human transformation exhaustion.
The urge to round the counter, to touch him and check for injuries, is nearly overwhelming and Caroline presses her hands to the chipped wood to still herself. Rubbing her hips against his in the dark, in time to music, was one thing. Tearing his shirt off in public mid-morning and running her hands all over him is another. "Are you alright?" she asks anxiously. "I can pop next door and see if Bon has…"
Klaus' hand covers hers, pressing down until her tense fingers relax, "I'm perfectly fine."
The worry leaks from her and she straightens, attempting to recover her former perkiness, "Glad to hear it! But you'll be better once we get some chocolate in you."
She turns from him again, hopes he doesn't notice the slight shake of her hands.
Apparently her feelings for Klaus have tipped beyond the slight crush point. It would have been nice to not have that realization right in front of him.
Caroline can feel him watching her, resists the urge to glance over her shoulder and see if she can read his expression. She works quickly on his drink, adding a hint of the spicy syrup she makes herself, a healthy dollop of whipped cream, and a pinch of cinnamon.
It's significantly more frou frou than anything she's ever seen him have but he's the one who'd pointed out his recently broken bones. She slides it over, "Enjoy the extra calcium."
He dips his finger into the mound of whipped cream and Caroline ducks down, sliding open the door to the small refrigerator behind the counter. She doesn't trust herself not to stare should Klaus do what most people do with a whipped cream covered fingertip. His quiet hum of enjoyment has a small shiver racing up her spine.
He's made a similar sound in her fantasies a time or two.
She'd hidden away some things just for him and she sets two plates on the counter when she rises. He's surprised, his eyes widening, but she can see that he's pleased too. Still, a pang of self-consciousness washes over her. Before, when she's made something she knows Klaus likes, she'd just plopped it in the case with everything else and waited for him to stop by. This is more deliberate. An obvious signal. Caroline smooths an escaped curl away from her face, "I made the chocolate cherry cheesecake brownies that you liked. And I had some extra cherries so I figured…"
Looking at the plate, the artfully arranged chocolate covered cherries, Caroline can't believe that she's just now considering how the freaking romantic implications of the gesture.
"I figured…" she stutters, barely noticing that she's repeating herself.
Klaus turns away from her, easily finding Marcel. "Marcellus," he says, firm and commanding in a way that is not helping Caroline get her hormones under control at all, "I need to speak with Caroline for a moment. Privately. Mind her shop, will you?"
It obviously isn't actually a question because Klaus takes a few quick steps, flips up the top of the counter, and eases behind it. He reaches for her, his long fingers gentle as they wrap around her elbow. He nods behind her, "Shall we use the kitchen? Or perhaps your office?"
The pull out bed is still open in her office and Caroline suspects if they enter that room they won't be doing much talking.
And while that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world she thinks they need to clarify a thing or two before any hot office sex happens.
"Kitchen," she says.
Klaus releases her, his hand skimming down her arm. He nods to the swinging door, snatching up the plates she'd set out for him. "Ladies first," he murmurs.
A quick look around the shop tells her that the few customers are watching them curiously. Marcel's slid out of the booth and when she catches her eye he seems amused. "Don't burn down my shop," she warns, before she leads Klaus into the kitchen.
She hears two clinks and then he's grasping her arm again, stopping her motion. She can feel him hot against her back and when his hand hovers over her stomach she presses it down, against her. His lips brush the side of her neck and Caroline's knees go unsteady as she leans into him. He inhales deeply against the curve of her shoulder. "You do smell of me," he rumbles. "I half thought that a taunt."
Okay, that's weird.
"I what?" she asks, the words shriller that she'd meant them to be.
"What do you know of mates, Caroline?"
She peels herself away from him, circling until the steel prep table is between them. She's tempted to put her flushed face to the cool surface, maybe that would help her think. "Mates," she repeats. "Pretty common amongst supernatural species. Varying degrees of free will are involved."
It's a ceremony with Dryads, a binding of souls, old and complicated. It's written in a book Caroline's mother had gifted her with when she'd left home. She'd skimmed it, ages ago, hadn't figured she'd ever need it.
Maybe she'd been wrong.
Klaus shifts, seemingly restless. He looks… nervous, a state Caroline's never seen from him. "I don't know that I consciously chose to mark you when we danced around that bonfire. I wanted it, certainly, but I'd always planned to broach the subject while we were sober and aware. But between the punch and the magic in the air it happened and I couldn't stop myself once I realized."
"Sorry, but you marked me? How?" There's been no biting, not even a kiss. They'd just danced, for ages, yes, from sunset to the wee hours, but Caroline doesn't remember any marking.
"It's magic, sweetheart. Mine reaching out to yours to signal my intent. Had you been a wolf you would have smelled it. I'm sorry I didn't think to explain before now."
Caroline ducks her head, attempting to smell herself, glaring at Klaus when his lips quirk up like he's going to smile. She smells like she always does, like the vanilla lotion she uses and baked goods (it's an occupational hazard but no one complains), a hint of fresh cherries and the forest that always lingers, nearly unnoticeable. Super senses aren't a part of the Dryad bag of tricks, however. "I don't smell you," she says.
"My pack did. I do too. It's faint but it's there. I imagine our recent werewolf visitors did as well."
"That might explain the weird looks," Caroline mutters. Klaus' eyes narrow and she cuts him off before he can say anything that will annoy her, "Will it go away?"
"Should you decide that you don't want me after all it will fade. A wolf's scent only lingers when a mate is receptive."
Well, looks like her little crush isn't a secret.
His satisfaction is obvious, in both his tone and his face, a hint of gold shining around the edges of his pupils. He plucks one of the cherries from the plate, popping it into his mouth. His eyes flutter closed in pleasure as he chews and Caroline swallows hard, fights the urge to go to him once more.
This time it's not worry that's causing the itch in her fingertips.
When he's done his eyes drift open slowly, darker than before, lit with a hunger that has nothing to do with food. "Are you, Caroline? Receptive, I mean?"
She's not the least bit surprised he wants her to say it. She lifts her chin, "I wouldn't have made you those if I wasn't. Everyone else gets the cherries I pick up at the market, you know."
He goes still, eyes darting from her to the plate. Then he's circling the table, faster than she's ever seen him move in public. She lifts up onto her toes when he buries his hands in her hair, moans when his open mouth settles over hers. He licks into her mouth, all certainty and want, kisses her like it's all he's been thinking about. He tastes like cherries and chocolate, the tiniest hint of cinnamon, and it's so good that she wishes she'd been bold enough to make a move months ago.
When he lifts her onto the counter she stops thinking about much of anything, too busy tracing the flexing muscles of his torso under his shirt.
A crash from outside breaks them apart and they take a moment to tug their clothes back into place and smooth their hair before they venture back into the shop. Their hasty attempt at hiding what they'd been doing fools no one and Caroline catches quickly hidden smiles and hears smothered titters. Marcel is attempting to sweep up a broken pile of china and Klaus shoots him a glance that's positively murderous.
Caroline ignores his surliness and makes Marcel a new hot chocolate on the house. His timely interruption had saved her from violating the health code so he deserves it. Klaus clearly doesn't agree but his temper is easy enough to cool. Caroline tells him to pick her up for dinner at six, smirks and murmurs that they'll pick up where they left off after dinner.
She offers to bring dessert.