A/N- I'm back!

When Caroline was sixteen years old and a regular subscriber to the few fashion magazines available in Mystic Falls, she had read about women who trained themselves to wake up earlier than their boyfriends so that they could fix their hair and brush their teeth, ensuring that their partners always saw them as beautiful.

For someone who was Type-A and neurotic with a healthy mix of self-esteem issues, this had seemed like a good idea to her at the time.

And for the first few months of their dating life, when Tyler had stayed the night, she had managed to follow through on this resolution.

But eventually, life had got in the way and she'd stopped caring if she had morning breath or if her hair resembled a bird's nest when she woke up.

Besides Tyler hadn't exactly resembled Prince Charming when he'd woken up either.

Still though, there was enough anxiety left within her that when she woke up with her face half-buried in her pillows and the knowledge that Klaus was beside her that she was worried about her appearance.

Even as she rationalises that he'd already seen her with a make-up stained face when she'd passed out on his couch and it didn't matter if he found her unattractive in the morning because she wasn't looking for a new relationship anyway.

Was her hairbrush still on her bedside table?

Her alarm goes off and Klaus stirs to life, rolling over to face her and she's out of time,

"Morning." he croaks, opening bleary eyes and despite how early it is and the fact that she's feeling the effects of last night's drinking, she smiles,

"Good morning,"

"Sleep well?" she adds when he stretches his arms above his head,

"Your sheets are ridiculously comfortable," He offers as confirmation, "I'm tempted to take them with me when I leave."

She huffs and is about to tell him where he could get his own set before deciding that the revelation that they were erotic bedsheets might be a little embarrassing.

Or it might give him the wrong idea.

Or she was maybe overthinking things again.

"I'll fight you for them," she teased, "And I'll probably win."

"Probably," he agrees, "I'm useless before my morning coffee."

"Which wasn't a hint," he continues when she pushes back the duvet and climbs out of bed, "I'm a grown man, I can make my own coffee!"

"My house." she calls, not looking back as she walks out of the room.

Caroline usually liked to get to work an hour early so she didn't have to worry about morning traffic and could sit in the café next door, checking social media and preparing herself for the day.

Now, she finds herself enjoying the peace and quiet in her kitchen as the coffee maker gurgles in the corner. With Tyler gone, she wouldn't have to arrange her schedule around his morning shower that typically went for thirty minutes.

The water bill would probably drop dramatically as well.

She leaned on the island and wondered at what point she'd begin to miss his presence or the smell of him or whatever it was the poets and magazines had written about.

Klaus wanders out still wearing her t-shirt, "I'm taking this with me," he warns, "I'll get it back to you, but my shirt has alcohol stains on it and it's both too early and late for that to be explained away."

She snorts and hands him a cup of coffee, "What time to you have to be at work?"

He checks his phone, "Honestly? As long as my work gets done, my boss doesn't care when I turn up."

This admission costs him first access to the shower, that and the fact that he doesn't have to wear makeup to work so he takes less time to get ready.

They're making their way across her front lawn before Caroline reaches out and touches his arm, causing him to stop and her hand slides down to his wrist before her doubts gets the better of her.

"I just wanted to thank you," she blurts out, "For last night, for not having any expectations and just…being there for me. I know it wasn't fair so thank you."

There's a hint of sadness in Klaus' eyes as he moves towards her, "Caroline, love, I know you know I'm attracted to you but…never think that I'm going to demand anything of you beyond your friendship and what you're willing to give me."

Impulsively, she reaches up and kisses his cheek, "Thank-you!"

She manages to wait until his Uber has picked him up and is out of sight before the silly grin stretches across her face.

Meanwhile, in the car, Klaus pulled his phone from his jeans pocket.

To Rebekah: You were right.

From Rebekah: Told you.

From Rebekah: Nothing's better than a man who respects a woman's boundaries and lets her know it.

From Rebekah: Provided you mean it

To Rebekah: Of course.

To Rebekah: But it helped to let her know as well.

To Matt: Tyler Lockwood has sent you a picture

To Matt: Swimsuit competition on the beach right now!

From Matt: Shame you can't cheat on Caroline with them as well.

To Matt: Come on, man

To Matt: Will you at least let me tell you my side of the story?

From Matt: No.

From Matt: I'm too pissed off with you to hear your version of what went down.

From Matt: Stop contacting me. When I'm ready to talk, I'll call.

For as long as he could remember, Richard Lockwood had instilled the idea that only girls cry in Tyler's mind.

But when he reads Matt's messages and thinks that he might have just lost his best friend, he feels his throat tightening and his eyes watering.

His mother is reclining on the lounge chair next to him and looks up from her magazine,

"Is something the matter, dear?"

"No," he lies, clearing his throat, "Just got some sun in my eye, I think I'll go for a swim."

He makes sure to lock his phone before dropping it into his bag, over the last few days he's realised that his mom's desire to 'help' involved going through his things and she had shrieked in horror when she'd seen the nudes Jules had sent him.

He'd had to endure a thirty minute lecture from his mother about the kind of girl who sent dirty pictures and how he shouldn't be involved with that type of girl because they were not good for him.

He'd pointed out that he was a grown man and he didn't receive nudes from 'girls' only consenting women, but Carol hadn't let that deter her from her long rant about moral decrepitude and how so many of society's problems could be traced back to girl's who didn't respect themselves.

It had left him feeling dirty and in strong need of a shower.

It felt good to put physical distance between himself and his mother now as he dove into the ocean, kicking off from the sand and swimming with powerful strokes until he was far enough out that the people on the beach could not longer be recognised.

Tyler had thought that he'd been enjoying his holiday, doing nothing but sunning himself during the day and drinking himself into a stupor at night until he had received those messages from Matt and realised that his real life wasn't on hold while he was on vacation.

Actually, it seemed like his life was falling apart while he was doing nothing more than tanning to try and hide his hangovers.

His friends weren't not replying to his messages because of some time difference and jealousy that he was kicking back and having fun while they were at work. They weren't replying because he had screwed up and without him there to remind them of years of friendship between them, they were dropping him.

And if his friends were dropping him, what would his co-workers and clients do?

Granted, it wasn't exactly the same, after all the people he worked with couldn't not reply to his messages because he'd cheated on his girlfriend and he couldn't be fired for that- thank God- but there had been another guy who'd been recruited in the same batch as he had and at after work drinks one night had made one too many racist jokes. Nothing had been said officially but people in the office had stopped being friendly with him, stopped including him in conversations or inviting him to events and eventually he'd figured out it would be better for his career if he left.

Would that happen to Tyler?

More importantly, how could he prevent it happening?

He dives under a wave and re-emerges spitting water and shaking it from his eyes.

Maybe he should head home early? Try to do damage control?

Ironically, the best person for the job would be Caroline.

Maybe he should call her?

Caroline was just on her way out of her consultation with Miss Griffin, a blueblood with a trust fund and a foster child that she was trying to shower with love and catered holiday events to make up for any shortcomings as a new parent.

Caroline had had to bite her tongue to stop herself from reassuring the woman that a twelve-year-old girl who wasn't used to having her own bedroom wasn't going to know the difference between a three-thousand-dollar Easter lunch and a two-thousand-dollar Easter lunch, so maybe save the expense on the extra decorations and chill?

Genevieve probably would have sent her into time out for that.

Besides, she was a foster kid, she probably deserved to be spoiled a little bit.

Worse case scenario, maybe Caroline was helping to create a revolutionary who would overthrow capitalism.

She finds herself daydreaming about the themes she would use for a revolutionary party, how she would organise it and whether she would go with the typical tricolour or pick other ones when she spots Esther Mikaelson on her way out of the building and offers a wave.

Esther lifts her head in acknowledgement but can't manage much else at that moment with her arms full of catalogues that Melissa must have prepped for her.

"Can't stop dear," she calls, "Have to get to a board meeting."

She smiles to show no offence taken and heads back to the office floor where Melissa is typing a mile a minute on her keyboard.

"Do you love me or hate me right now?" Caroline teases as she looks at the magazines and papers sprawled over every inch of the desk.

"Too busy," Melissa answers, not even looking up from her screen, "Leave me a post-it note, and I'll decide later."

April calls her name across the floor and Caroline takes it as a sign that Genevieve wants to speak with her.

Her confidence isn't shaken until she strides into the office and Genevieve actually gets up from her chair to close the door behind her.

Oh God, what had she done wrong?

Was she getting fired?

What had she screwed up?

Her mind is racing ahead of her, already trying to figure out the solution when her boss interrupts,

"Stop imploding and sit down," she instructs, and Caroline drops obediently into the chair,

"You've done nothing wrong," she declares, predicting the very words out of her mouth.

"Quite the opposite, bringing Esther to us as a client was brilliant and we'll be one of the main planners of half of Richmond's major charity events this year."

"Okay," Caroline stretched out the word, still trying to figure out why her boss wasn't smiling,

"So the issue is…?"

Genevieve sighs, "I got a call from Augustine Mutual Fund today, the head of the Richmond branch wants us to plan their Christmas party."

"Wes Maxfield?" Caroline asks in disbelief, "He was invited to our wedding."

She had liked him too, a nice, polite man who she had met probably two or three times when she had been Tyler's plus-one to work events. They'd both studied microbiology as minors in college and usually fell back on that when they met.

"That's the one," Genevieve confirms, "He's insistent."

Caroline shrugs, "Okay," she answers, not seeing the problem, "Yeah, he's Tyler's boss but I'm not going to have a breakdown if he walks into our office…"

It doesn't take her that long to actually connect the dots but she does lose a handful of seconds while she tries to figure out whether Genevieve is messing with her.

"Seriously?!" she half-shrieks when she guesses that her boss doesn't hate her enough to joke about something like this.

"He specifically asked for you," she confirms, while Caroline does her best impression of a fish,

"Insisted that he wouldn't book us unless the event was organised and managed by you."

"But…" she babbles, trying to figure out which deity she must have pissed off, "I thought he liked me!"

"I think he does," Genevieve agrees, "That's why he booked you, wants to help you out and etc."

Caroline wondered whether she should be offended that this man she didn't even really know thought throwing money her way would make her feel better?

Then again, he was a businessman, he probably figured that what worked for him worked for everyone.

Meanwhile, she's left wondering whether she's allowed to faceplant on her boss' desk.

Probably not.

And she's probably not allowed to whine, 'Do I have to?' like a teen who's been told to take out the trash either.

But she's desperate so she still tries it.

To her credit, Genevieve does seem sympathetic but she's first and foremost a businesswoman herself in a very competitive industry.

Which is why Caroline finds herself staring intently at her computer screen, trying to ignore the fact that her cheeks are burning with humiliation as she types out an email to Maxfield's executive assistant who'd been offered up as the liaison between her and Augustine Mutual Fund.

God, what even was her life right now?!

Would her friends even believe her when she sent them a recap of her terrible, no good day?

Only one way to find out.

She sends the same text to Bonnie and Katherine and when they don't immediately respond, to Klaus and then because she needed someone to share in her disbelief, to Enzo in the hopes that someone would be available to commiserate with her.

Wherever Enzo was, he must have been with Damon because surprisingly it was him that responded first.

From Damon: Barbie, your life is a trashy CW soap

To Damon: Trust me, I'm aware

A/N- Thank you for reading