Author's note: This was written for Klaroline AU Week - Day Two: Sci-Fi/Fantasy. Caroline serves up a good time for her supernatural guests — but there are rules. And Klaus doesn't get to break them even if he has a good excuse — like being possessed by the Hollow.

Warning: References to drugs. But it's fae drugs, if that helps?


Got a good reason for taking the easy way out.
Got a good reason for taking the easy way out now.
She was a day tripper, a one-way ticket, yeah.

— The Beatles, "Day Tripper"


It had been awhile since she'd seen the mayor trip balls, but the man did love his phoenix ash and the second his people found out she'd gotten in a new supply, he practically beat down her doors to get to it. Caroline couldn't help but be impressed with the way his four arms neatly tapped out the lines of phoenix ash while his four legs beat a happy tattoo underneath his table. Trickster spiders like the Anansi were easygoing by nature, but rigidly serious when it came to their vices.

Caroline knew all about vices. She owned a "social club" that word-of-mouth claimed was the most discrete drug den in the supernatural community. Not to mention her fae heritage gave her instant gravitas — everyone knew elves made the best drugs. But she didn't run the most successful underground business without enforcing some ground rules. She didn't serve minors (that's a minimum of 200 years — no exceptions); guests can't buy and bail (she wasn't running a drive-thru); and guests are expected to remain on the premises until they come down (drugs are never safe, but Caroline does what she can to make them safer).

"Nope," Caroline flatly said, narrowing her eyes at the desperate vampire who was far too wide-eyed to be legal as he failed to look casual under her intense perusal. "No way you're legal, kid. You're what — a 100? 120?"

He kicked out his feet like a child as he perched on the barstool, petulantly telling her, "I'm 174. Come on, do you really want the Ripper of Monterey to take his business down the street?"

"You're underage and you refer to yourself in the third person. You bet your undead ass," she told him, motioning for one of the minotaur bouncers to escort him outside.

As a curly-headed hybrid sauntered by him, the desperate little vampire suddenly squawked, "Klaus! Klaus! You remember me, right? Please, get her to let me stay!"

Caroline rolled her eyes as that signature smirk lazily touched Klaus' lips, irritated that one of her best customers was well aware of how sexy he was. Asshat. He casually slid onto the barstool across from her, briefly flashing his dimples at her before flippantly answering, "Sorry mate, you've mistaken me for someone else."

Klaus had the audacity to wink at Caroline, and she noted the familiar glassiness in his gaze. "If you're here for another hemlock whiskey, my bartender already ratted you out — one barrel per customer per 24 hours. Otherwise, those Socrates hallucinations will be permanent."

She'd never interacted with Klaus before now, and realized it was harder to remain aloof when that seductive stare of his was directed at her. And then there was that accent. "Well, I have some suggestions on how we can pass the time, love," her purred, stroking the syllables of his words until the most delightfully obscene images flashed through her mind.

"I like sober sex," she bluntly told him. "Clear consent should be everyone's policy."

"Pity," he drawled, vaguely waving his arm at the cavernous room lit a seductive red. "Why should we be sidelined while everyone else has a good time?"

Horns, fangs, claws, scales, fur, spiked tails — a symphony of moans and shrieks of pleasure and pain echoed throughout the club, and she breathed in the thick sexual energy with a blissful sigh. Cocking an eyebrow at Klaus, she playfully asked, "You're not having a good time with me?"

He leaned across, boldly stroking her open palm with his thumb. "I intend to have a very good time with you, sweetheart."

"Impudent." She rolled her eyes, assessing him. "As I said — I like sober sex. The average hybrid who stumbles in here usually takes a day and a half to sober up after a binge like yours. However, I assume your constitution is a bit heartier."

A shrill cry of ecstasy penetrated the wisps of red smoke that floated through the air, and Klaus' eyes glowed a brilliant blue as he hummed in delight, "I'm pleased you've thought about my constitution, and I can assure you it's quite hearty."

"We'll see," Caroline replied primly, not bothering to lie to herself. Whatever this was, it definitely would be happening in the near future. She nodded at some of the werewolves in the corner shooting up a potent wolfsbane-Thai mushrooms cocktail. Her people had been infusing their magic into a variety of drugs for centuries, and she knew the effect of every one on supernatural creatures. Which is why that unnatural flare of blue in his gaze caught her attention. "You're riding a bigger high than my hemlock whiskey," she observed, her tone suspicious as she asked, "Something's off — what is it?"

A shadow crossed Klaus' handsome face as he seemed to carefully consider his words. "Do you know of the Hollow?" His voice was tight with anger as he added, "I'm being haunted by the spirit of a witch."

The tips of Caroline's pointed ears twitched in irritation at that name. "Inadu? Seriously?! Your downward spiral is about that whiny likhoradka?" At his blank expression, she explained, "It's what my clan calls the dark spirits who possess someone to cause soul sickness. They're a plague, taking whatever darkness exists within the host and amplifying it. Filthy parasites. They're basically the head lice of the supernatural community."

"You can expel her from my body and that of my siblings," he said sharply, his shadow sparking that same peculiar blue as though sensing his agitation.

"Sure," she shrugged, "I mean it's not even like you got the full dose of her anyway." When he flashed that sexy dimpled smirk, she warned, "We're fixing you first. No way am I having a quasi-threesome with you and your supernatural head lice."