AU/AH. "You order the very same pizza with extra cheese, frankfurters, french fries and green olives—seriously?—every Saturday at exactly 4AM—asshole!—and I'm the only delivery girl available at that time so I'm really curious about, like, WHY THE HELL!?"

The phone rang loudly in the comfortable silence of the almost empty—it was just her and the Italian owners' son, Enzo—Royal Pizza place, and Caroline just knew.

It had been going on for over two months now and, although it was obviously good for business, it was starting to get quite ridiculous and kind of vexing. She was supposed to clock out at 4AM, not get in the damn delivery car to bring some stupid dude his stupid and pretentiously-topped pizza... and it didn't even matter that said dude was extremely handsome and gifted with dimples and a British accent to die for, the whole ordeal had stopped being cute around the third week already.

Ugh.

"Ah, right on time," Enzo commented with a knowing grin, briefly looking up at the round wall clock positioned above their heads. "All yours, Gorgeous."

The blonde pinned him with a frustrated glare, to which the black-haired boy promptly reacted by holding his hands up in surrender.

"Hey, don't blame me."

"I wouldn't, if you didn't look so smug about it," Caroline pointed out, eyes narrowing even further as she waved a dangerous index finger at her friend.

Enzo halfheartedly rolled his eyes, then sighed.

"You know I would offer to come with you, but—"

"—but we'd only have a repeat of our first meeting with you nursing a bruised ego and a black eye for two weeks, if you so much as hinted that I can't take care of myself."

He pursed his lips and let out a noncommittal hum under his breath at the sight of her proud smirk and gleaming, blue eyes.

"Yeah, that."

Caroline beamed at him one last time before finally picking up the call.

Bored, she wrote the usual order down on her notepad—more out of habit than anything else, since she could probably recite Mister Mikaelson's whole pizza recipe in her sleep at that point—and then waited for Enzo to prepare it, helping him carefully putting it inside one of their red and white take-away boxes.

"I'll close here," the boy said as she was shrugging on her jacket. "Keep the car and go home when you're done, all right?"

"Yes, Dad," Caroline joked with a teasing smile, although she genuinely appreciated the Italian's concern.

"And text me when you arrive, please."

She huffed. "You do remember that we go over this same conversation every Saturday, right?"

"Yes. And you cave to my adorable puppy eyes every single time, Gorgeous," Enzo grinned, pointedly shaping his features into said look as he turned to her.

The blonde rolled her eyes, holding the pizza box in one hand and clutching the delivery car keys in the other.

"Keep telling yourself that, Augustine," she quipped, already halfway out the door. "Goodnight."

"'Night."

The drive to the given address—something else that Caroline pretty much knew by heart, by then—was, as always, rather long but uneventful. Mister Mikaelson lived in one of the nicest parts of New York City, in the penthouse apartment of one of those fairly isolated but at the same time perfectly located buildings complete with full-time doorman and elevator operator.

In all honesty, all things considered, he was the last person on Earth that she would have ever pegged as such a religious pizza eater—he was most likely hella loaded and she could clearly see his muscled arms and drool-worthy abs through the flimsy material of his henleys, thank you very much—but don't judge a book from its cover and all that, right? After all, he always left her generous tips—which she deserved, because hello? 4AM, here; and she steadfastly refused to acknowledge Enzo's theory of why the man acted like such a gentleman with her, shut up—so who cared.

Finally arriving at her destination, Caroline parked the car and then collected the pizza from the passenger seat before exiting the vehicle and walking towards the building's entrance. The doorman—Frank—immediately let her in with a kind smile; the two of them had sort of become acquaintances ever since she started to weekly show up during his... Friday night? Saturday morning? shift, and he knew not to bother with useless security measures anymore.

"I didn't think I'd see you today," he commented mostly mindlessly, while alerting Mister Mikaelson that she had arrived through the fancy intercom.

"If only," Caroline replied with a small sigh, a smile appearing on her lips nonetheless before she became curious. "But, uhm, any particular reason why? Did something happen today?"

Frank shrugged. "I guess not. You're all cleared, go ahead."

The blonde nodded her thanks and then moved to the elevator area. She made small talk with Jason, the operator there, as she waited, then entered through the mechanical doors once the elevator opened for her.

In a few minutes, she had reached the penthouse floor.

When she stepped into the luxurious apartment, Mister Mikaelson was already there waiting for her with his usual seriously-way-too-attractive-to-be-fair grin in place.

"Caroline," his smile widened, allowing his dimples to make an appearance as he gestured for her to get further inside with an outstretched arm.

She nodded once in response to his greeting, following him into his house and looking around somewhat hesitantly. It wasn't like she hadn't already seen the whole place—or, well, the foyer, living room and kitchen—on multiple occasions, but there was just something about it that left her in awe every single time.

Clearing her throat, Caroline fidgeted slightly, feet shuffling and heated box still in hand.

"Here's your pizza, Mister—"

But his chuckle interrupted her before she could finish her sentence, making her eyes snap up to his in a mixture of surprise and confusion, blue on blue.

"How many times have I told you to call me Klaus, now?" he shook his head lightly, regarding her with a kind of adoration.

She promptly blushed under the unexpected intensity of his stare, ducking for a moment.

"I guess it is only fair, since you use my name all the time," the blonde quipped, realizing too late that she was basically flirting with a customer.

For God's sake, Caroline!

"It is," he grinned, oblivious to her mental debate and obviously pleased with the fact that she wasn't completely ignoring him and his advances for once. "Plus, I already constantly hear my surname being called at work. I believe I deserve a break from it, now that I have a few days off."

Unsure on what else she could say and wanting to remain professional, Caroline simply nodded. She finally handed Klaus the pizza box and then accepted his money with a small, tight-lipped smile, feeling somewhat awkward as she turned to leave, ignoring the slightly disappointed expression that was marring his face.

However, against her brain's better judgment and emboldened by their brief conversation, she suddenly whirled around before she had even managed to reach the elevator.

She found the Brit still standing in the very same spot, expectantly looking at her with a quirked up eyebrow and an amused smile.

"If you don't mind me asking," she hesitated, although aware that it was too late to back down now, "why 4AM?"

Klaus' pale pink lips immediately stretched wider and curved up higher, two straight rows of perfectly white teeth peeking out in between.

"I'm a doctor," he explained, easily. "4AM is the end of my Friday night shift."

"Oh." Okay, that did make sense and maybe she could forgive him for the crazy hours that he was making her pull.

Feeling satisfied by his answer, Caroline once again moved to leave, able to feel the warmth of Klaus's gaze trained solely on her even with her head down.

But another thought sparked in her mind before she could take one single step.

"Wait," she frowned as their eyes met, her brows furrowing together. "What about today? If you've taken some days off..."

That time, his smile appeared uncharacteristically bashful.

"I was hoping you would ask that."

"You were?" both her eyebrows arched, more confusion coloring her features.

He gave a small nod. "I have stayed up and ordered my usual pizza anyway, because I hated the idea of not seeing you this week."

Her eyes widened almost comically at that, the blonde utterly floored by Klaus' admission.

"I—w–what?"

"I fancy you, Caroline."

"That's impossible," she actually snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "You don't even know me."

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, finding her resistance rather adorable.

"I know enough," he promised. "I know that you're beautiful, and kind, and full of light. Every Saturday at 4AM, this is the best part of my entire week."

All of a sudden, Caroline felt overwhelmed, definitely not having expected such a heartfelt confession from Klaus. Her own heart was beating wildly underneath her ribcage, and she found herself speechless as his stare became even more piercing, leaving her breathless. What was she even supposed to answer to that?

Differently from most men, he didn't take her prolonged, stunned silence as a bad sign.

"Maybe you'd like to share this meal with me, for once?" he asked, his voice bringing her back to the present.

He looked so hopeful, and, right then and there, she really wanted to give him a chance.

"I promise I'm not a serial killer," he added, prompting her to roll her eyes.

"I bet that's what all serial killers say," Caroline quipped, although she was grinning as she walked past him, eagerly taking the pizza box from his hands as she did so.

Hours later, when she arrived back home still in one piece, she had officially confirmed that Klaus was, indeed, not a serial killer. He most certainly was a glorious kisser, though.