A/N- Here you go.

Head back.

Swallow.

Smack.

Head back.

Swallow.

Smack.

One after the other, Caroline grabbed the ABC shots and downed them with an expertise that could only come from being young and beautiful in New Orleans.

"Damn!"

Enzo, the man she'd met all of ten minutes ago, is three shots behind her and struggling to catch up. He'd made some disparaging remark about the beer she'd been drinking and she'd decided to challenge him to a game of six shots.

Hayley, an off-duty bartender, had mixed them the shots from whatever she could grab first from Marcel's windowsill, which was working double duty as the liquor shelf.

She supposed it was sheer luck that they'd ended up with ABC's and not three different types of Absinthe.

"See," Caroline gloated as he reached for a bottle of water and gagged, realizing it was vodka,

"Not just a pretty blonde face!"

He's still spluttering and trying to recover his ability to flirt, Caroline catches Hayley's eye, they share a smirk and she pushes herself up from the couch, giving herself a moment so she doesn't noticeably sway and then she strides around the studio apartment.

It's absolutely bursting with people. Marcel's immediate circle of friends and then random guests they picked up along the way. Alcohol is pouring freely, and there's the scent of weed in the air, even though the stoners had the decency to hang by the open windows or climb up to the roof.

Marcel came from money, not that he was willing to talk about it, or shove it in anyone's face but his warehouse converted apartment is staggeringly huge, despite the fact that it's crowded and Caroline feels flushed.

She hears an acoustic guitar playing and sees Stefan in a corner, on a wooden crate that was there for aesthetics more than practicality, but he's the absolute picture of a hipster musician, playing the instrument with an almost careless ease, even though it's barely audible over the din, and holding a conversation with some enraptured girl until Caroline strides over and sits down on the ground beside him, looking up with a grin,

"Hey!"

He manages a small smile and puts the guitar down, leaning it against the wall and seemingly conjures a large bottle out of nowhere,

"No thanks," she waves a hand but he still presses it against her, "It's water," he speaks into her ear, and she accepts it gratefully.

It's already been opened, but Caroline doesn't even think about it. She trusts Stefan with her welfare. He's always the one who makes sure everyone gets water in between their drinks, will keep an eye on the crowd and will walk a girl home without any expectations.

She'd even dated him for a while. Klaus had met the guy and introduced them to one another, setting them up almost then and there, and for a while it had been nice. Stefan was a med student who volunteered at crises centers, stopped to pat every dog on the street and had adopted a stray cat that he kept hidden from his landlord. They'd gone out to dinner, movies, and the sex had been good, not great, but it'd been fun and spontaneous.

There was only one problem.

Stefan had guessed by the second week that Caroline was head over heels in love with Klaus.

He'd been kind to her, telling her that she was a great girl, swearing that he wouldn't tell her best friend why they were breaking up and that if the situation had been different…

He explained to her that he'd had his heart broken before, his last real girlfriend and first one true love had fallen in love with his older brother while they were still dating and he'd caught her cheating on him, in the worst possible way.

Part of him was still recovering from that.

So they went back to being friends.

"You okay?" Stefan asks, glancing from the corner of his eyes to where Enzo is waiting on the couch for her to return and she shrugs,

"He's cute but full of himself."

She looks about the room for someone more fun to flirt and maybe go home with when she sees a flash of blonde hair that she can recognize even when she's drunk in a dimly lit room.

"Klaus is here," she blurts in surprise, "Why is Klaus here?"

Giggling, she puts her hand on Stefan's arm and he automatically grips her elbow, helping her to stand. She calls his name and weaves through the crowd, bumping into people and comes up from behind, resting an elbow on his shoulder.

He turns his face to her and she can see his eyes are bloodshot and he smells of weed.

Weed and sex.

With lipstick stains on his neck.

In spite of herself, she giggles, "You look terrible." She tells him brightly, "Why are you here?"

He shrugs, "You know I'm not an overnighter," he looks around, "How many are you down?"

She hums and throws her head back, trying to remember, "Maybe…this many?"

She holds up her fingers and waggles them, "Spirit Fingers!"

He nods, "Okay love, come on then."

He slips an arm around her waist and leads her to the kitchen, grabbing one of the last few clean glasses available and filling it to the brim with water, "Drink."

She obeys him, winking cheekily as she downs it in one and hands it to him, "You need water as well."

He smirks, clearly about to blow her off but sees the look she giving him and surrenders, refilling the glass for himself. They settle down on the couch opposite Hayley, Caroline trying to ignore how much Klaus reeks of trashy perfume and cheap sex.

Hayley, they learn, interns with a conservation project in the Bayou focused on a rare breed of wolf, working nights as a bartender to pay her way. From there the conversation turns to their jobs and even though Caroline is passionate about her work, she finds herself becoming drowsy and leaning her head against Klaus' shoulder, yawning as she drifts off.

She jerks awake when the party winds down, people leaving with loud goodbyes and the clatter of glass bottles they take with them. She stretches her cramped legs and Klaus' jacket falls off her shoulder, she sits up and looks around.

Stefan is lying on the coffee table, staring up at the light and humming to himself, stoned out of his mind. Klaus is trying to clear some of the immediate wreckage and Marcel is shepherding the last of the guests out the door.

She has an idea and kicks Stefan with her foot, "Get your guitar."

"What guitar?" he slurs and she kicks him again, "Klaus! Grab Stefan's guitar."

"I'm not that drunk love," he calls from the kitchen and she frowns,

"Klaus!"

Marcel laughs and pushes him forward, "Do as the pretty lady says or I'm making you walk home."

She claps her hands in delight as Klaus grumbles good-naturedly as he crosses the room and grabs the guitar from the corner, perching himself on the arm of the couch and settling it on his lap,

"Okay, love," he sighs as he tunes it and grabs the pick, "What'll it be?"

She smiles in triumph and tilts her head for a moment to think before beginning to hum the song and he smirks, following along easily.

Caroline leant her head back on the couch, closing her eyes as she sang the chorus, her voice crystal clear in the quiet apartment,

"…oh now feel it coming back again, like a rolling thunder chasing the wind…"

When the song ends and the guitar chords fade, she continues humming and doesn't open her eyes until she feels Klaus move down beside her, sliding an arm around her waist and resting his forehead against her temple. The two of them have a moment, one single moment where they are breathing in sync and the only sound in the world is the air as it enters and leaves their lungs, hers barely audible as his thunders in her ears.

Too soon though, the moment is gone.

"Okay," Marcel appears in front of them, clapping his hands once, "Concert's over, the audience wants to go to bed."

Klaus puts his guitar down as she pouts, "No," she whines, "One more song!"

Marcel shakes his head, "I've heard you say that before, I'm not staying up til six listening to you two play the greatest hits of whatever era comes to mind," he comes forward and slides an arm around her waist, scooping her up, "Come on."

She squeaks as he swings her around and lets her arm dangle freely, "Save me." she calls as he carries her across the room and Klaus follows laughing, "I'll set up the guest room," he offers, "You can go to bed."

"It's fine," Marcel grunted, trying to wedge the sliding door to the second bedroom open with his foot, "I've got her."

He reaches past him to open the door and Caroline's world spins in warning, "Really mate," he argues, "It'll be another hour before she goes to sleep. I'll watch over her."

"Will you now?" Marcel demands, placing Caroline gently on the bed and she closes her eyes gratefully, "Just watch, huh?"

"What exactly are you implying?"

"That Caroline is going to bed alone and she's damn sure going to wake up alone, you wanna be the one to take care of her? Maybe you should stop fucking around and…"

"You piece of…"

"Hey!" Stefan's voice entered the fray and that was the last thing Caroline heard before she lost consciousness.

The sunlight was painfully assaulting her eyelids and her head was pounding violently as the rest of her tried to keep itself in one piece.

Caroline groaned as she woke up, feeling very fragile and swallowed to try and wet her mouth, it didn't work and she threw out a hand, patting the bed beside her and frowning in confusion when she encountered an obstacle.

A man-made obstacle.

But not one she recognized.

She cracked open an eye and saw blonde hair but dirty blonde, not the golden blonde of her best friend.

It was Stefan Salvatore.

Had she slept with him?

She moved her head as much as she could and saw that all her clothes were still on and she didn't smell anything like sex. She swallows again and coughs drily, pushing herself up and looking around the room blearily.

Her knee nudges Stefan's thigh and he starts, opening his eyes and rubbing them as he sat up,

"Good morning," he yawns, giving a crooked smile, "So, on a scale of one to death-please, how bad do you feel?"

"Um," she stammers and runs a hand through her hair, "What happened last night? Did we…?"

"No," he stretches out the word, chuckling and shaking his head, "No, you were in no shape to say yes to anything except a glass of water last night."

She rotates her hips and eases herself into a sitting position before looking at him expectantly,

"So?" she demands, "Why are you here? Where's…?"

The lines across her forehead grow deeper as she struggles to remember the party last night. It was clear right up until they'd reached Marcel's place, after that, things got a little blurry.

But she was certain that Klaus had been there last night.

Unless she'd dreamt that?

Stefan clears his throat awkwardly and asks her what she can remember and she fills him in, noting his shoulders drop in what's either relief or disappointment.

"Yeah, Klaus and I stayed over last night," he explains, scratching the back of his neck,

"But he and Marcel were deep into a game of poker when you passed out on the couch, I carried you in here, got you some water, we talked until you fell asleep and…" he looks down, "Guess I passed out as well."

"And they left you here?!"

He shrugs, "Guess they figured we'd be pretty safe with each other."

She doesn't immediately laugh at his comment and now he's the one frowning,

"Did I do something wrong?"

She shakes her head and forces a smile on her face, "Nope…just trying to psyche myself up for a shower."

Despite every part of her body begging her to lie back down and sleep, she forces herself to tumble out of the bed and grab one of the two guest towels that Marcel owned after the first time she'd crashed here.

With Klaus.

And they'd…

Well.

Needed the shower the next morning.

It'd started shortly after their first night partying together; they'd ended up on her couch with his hand up her dress. Drunken friends with benefits.

Strictly foreplay benefits. They never had sex and never when she was in a relationship and he was with his girl of the week.

But last night, she was surprised that he hadn't stumbled into her bed and woken her up with his lips on her neck.

Unless she'd done something wrong? Or he'd seen her and Stefan and assumed that they were back together?

She's so caught up in her contemplation that she's not even looking where she's going, her eyes on the ground in front of her and she bumps headfirst into the man on her mind.

"Oof" she grunts and giggles, "Morning."

Klaus has shadows under his tired eyes and stubble along his jaw. He's wearing the same clothes and they look rumpled but not slept in,

"Morning, sweetheart," he rubs his shoulder where she'd hit him,

"I'm thinking Café Refuel for breakfast?" he suggests, looking down at his phone, "Then, I'm going to need your advice on some artistic matters."

She frowns, picking up immediately on the chill in his tone, "Okay, but what about Marcel and Stefan?"

He shakes his head, "Marcel will be asleep for hours yet and Stefan won't want to eat at a café with no decent vegetarian options."

She opens her mouth and closes it again, trying to quickly figure out what's wrong.

But he meets her eyes and she can't see any darkness in the blue depth so she figures that Klaus was just being Klaus and heads into the bathroom.

While her best friend could be charming and sociable, there were times when he became moody and distant, withdrawing from everyone but her. She'd learnt to just let him be during these times and he was back to himself soon enough.

A few blocks over from Café Refuel, on the edge of the French Quarter, Klaus worked in a warehouse that had been converted into a dozen mini-studios for artists.

Caroline knew the place and many of the artists well, she had often provided them with homemade baked goods when the fancy took her and she needed an excuse to bring Klaus presents.

His small area, with the window that had been cut in half by a barely-legal sheet of dry wall marking the cut off between his space and the next, contained three easels, a tiny shelf overflowing with supplies, two mismatched seats Caroline had found on a hard rubbish day and a table that was kept dust-free only from frequent use.

His most recent paintings, the ones he hadn't done for commission, were leaning against the wall and he leads her over to them, she crouches down to observe them. The bold colors stunning even with the horrendous imagery.

The painting was set in a modern art gallery, people dressed beautifully in gowns and tuxedos, drinking champagne and nibbling on petit-fours. Smiling and laughing gaily, an abundance of enjoyment.

Even as the flesh rotted from their bodies.

Klaus called this series 'Les âmes meurent dégoûtantes', the French title itself a mockery, he painted the wealthy, the cultured and the elite as corpses in decay as a metaphor for the destruction their status and riches wrought on their souls. He had been inspired by a work party Caroline had dragged him along to and she would have been deeply offended except that she understood where he was coming from.

During her time as Miss Mystic Falls and chairing numerous committees in her home town, she had seen way too many instances of rich people patting themselves on the back for raising money for poor people in some distant area while mistreating the poor people right in front of them.

Klaus took his inspiration from the world around him and she recognized the theatre houses, high end stores and even some of the business district in the ten paintings in front of her. What made them so captivating was how he mused the rotting flesh with the everyday situations, making the disgusting appear so ordinary.

"It's getting worse," she notes with interest, "You're painting them to show their skeletons now as well."

He nods, "Which prints should I give to the store?"

She hums in thought and turns her eyes to every single painting, trying to figure out which ones would best be displayed, when he gave her the store name, she looked it up and saw that it catered primarily to hipsters.

"The irony of making money off my series condemning capitalistic society isn't lost to me." he assures her as she picks out the painting of the opera house, business office and the couple emerging from the limo right beside a homeless man.

She helping him prep them for transport when his phone buzzes and he grimaces as he looks at the screen, "Everything okay?" she asks and he glances up at her quickly before slipping it back into his pocket, "It's fine." He assures her, but the phone continues buzzing and, not even ten minutes later, ringing.

"Is it an emergency or an 'emergency'?" she huffs in annoyance, using her fingers to make air quotes and he looks embarrassed,

"Um…it's the woman from last night," he admits, "She uh…must have put her number in my phone when I was in the shower."

She quirks an eyebrow and schools her features so her own reflection in the mirror wouldn't know she was jealous and hurt,

"You showered before heading to Marcel's? she snorts, "Hope he didn't get the wrong idea."

He smirks at her joke and shrugs, "I'm not going to see her again so…"

Caroline didn't mean to interrupt him but she was on a roll, "Oh come on," she teases, "At least give her the week you give the rest of your women."

He stops and seems to consider her before responding, "You think I should?" he asks and she shrugs, looking down,

"Why not?"

"Why not indeed." He mutters under his breath and she takes one of the paintings, "I'm going to check if the taxi is here," she blabs before stepping into the tiny, dark hall, nearly colliding with another red head- seriously, soulless monsters- who is overly cheerful as she sticks her head into Klaus' office,

"Hi, I'm grabbing everyone coffees!" she chirps, "You want some?"

Caroline kept her breathing even as she moved out of earshot to hear Klaus' reply. That red head had been attractive too, so when his current one was over and done with, she'd probably be next in line.

An endless parade of women.

And Caroline would never be one of them.

She swallows and steps onto the bright, sunlit street, looking both ways unnecessarily for the maxi taxi they'd ordered to move the paintings to the store which had the technology to make smaller prints that could be pressed onto t-shirts.

She was spending her weekend helping the man she loved and he would be spending the evening romancing some woman whose name he wouldn't even remember six weeks from now.

She slipped her phone out of her handbag and considered tracking down the guy she'd met last night. Someone to distract herself with until the pain hurt just a little less.

A/N- Let me know what you think!