Notes: Another of the fluff drabbles! This one's super short which I'm actually a little proud of, I rarely successfully manage to keep a mini-drabble mini!

The Very Best of Enemies

(Prompts: Rebekah and Caroline friendship, Klaroline optional + kc established relationship before a party. Rated K+)

They've been in Paris for a month when Rebekah shows up.

Caroline's in the kitchen, a chef and his assistants hovering anxiously while she tastes the appetizers they've prepared. Klaus had run out about a half hour previously, slightly shifty in the way she'd come to learn means he's plotting a surprise.

She'd have known he was up to something even without that tell, of course. It's been just shy of ten years since she'd shown up and asked him to see the world again, this time with her. Klaus isn't one to let an anniversary like that go by unrecognized.

Caroline still kind of hates surprises but he's good at them so she'd learning to deal.

The sharp tapping of heels on the stone pathway outside is the only warning Caroline gets before Rebekah's breezing through the open doors that lead out to the backyard. She's wearing a fantastic dress – navy and fitted, a yellow belt cinching her waist.

Caroline's not about to offer a compliment, however.

Rebekah stops short when she sees Caroline, slipping her oversized sunglasses down her nose, eyes widening and mouth dropping open, her surprise all an act. "You're still here? Shocking."

Caroline refuses to give Rebekah any satisfaction. She hides her annoyance with a friendly smile, "Rebekah! So good to see you. And of course I'm here. I sent you the invitation."

One she'd crafted herself. Paper making had been a hobby a few decades back.

All of Klaus' siblings had received one. Only Elijah had RSVP-ed. Still, she's not surprised to see Rebekah, expects Kol will pop up in the next day or two. Possibly ragingly drunk and more than fashionably late to the party, knowing him.

For all the sniping and random bursts of violence The Mikaelsons never went more than a few years without a meet up. They're due.

"Of course, she says." Rebekah leans towards their audience, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "As if she didn't spend far too much time stringing my poor brother along. Making him chase her to the ends of the earth."

Three sets of eyes swivel in Caroline's direction, various levels of speculation obvious. She's unable to resist attempting to explain. "I did not string." Klaus had willingly, happily, met up with her in various locations when invited, had engineered plenty of his own supposedly coincidental run ins.

Rebekah helps herself to a tiny, perfectly golden brown, gougère. "He enjoyed it, I'll admit. Was rather pathetic." She takes a dainty bite, chews for a moment. "Mmm, needs more cheese."

Three offended gasps ring out and Caroline cannot have a chef exodus, not with a massive party set to happen in thirty-six hours. She has friends in Paris, Klaus has an assortment of allies and enemies in the city and surrounding area. They're planning on settling, at least for a bit. This party is something of an announcement of their intent.

It needs to be perfect.

Caroline takes a step closer to Rebekah, lets her expression turn sympathetic, "Did you bring luggage? I'm afraid there was a bit of a… plumbing disaster on the second floor last week."

A big fat lie but hopefully one that will get Rebekah upstairs and away so Caroline can sooth any ruffled feathers. Possibly by adding a hefty bonus to the promised pay but Klaus doesn't believe in budgets anyway.

Rebekah goes still, a little pale. She grabs Caroline's arm, not gently, and Caroline feels the bones grind in a way that can't be healthy. "My room? My closet? All of the…"

"Clothes? Yeah, sorry. Couldn't save 'em. Klaus said he'd take you shopping."

Rebekah doesn't seem comforted, not that Caroline can blame her. Rebekah keeps a massive closet in every house the Mikaelsons own. The one in Paris is particularly impressive, stuffed with priceless pieces, perfectly preserved originals from every major designer and a whole bunch from brilliant nobodies that never took off.

Rebekah makes a noise, low and pained, like a small animal that had gotten underfoot. She flees the room, too fast for a human, so Caroline's going to have to do some compelling too.

She smiles brightly, helps herself to her own gougère, "Don't listen to her. These are delicious."

As is Rebekah's scream, her rage at being tricked, heard loud and clear in the kitchen.