A/N- Happy New Year Everyone. Have some smut.
Like in every city that dealt with massive influxes of tourism, the locals of New Orleans tended to avoid Bourbon St and the immediate surrounding area of the French Quarter, the main tourist trap bars and restaurants.
Although, despite qualifying as 'too close' in the minds of the residents Rousseau's rarely saw tourists passing through, they tended to stick to the famous drinking holes a few doors up.
Except during Mardi Gras or New Year's Eve, when every single place that served alcohol was packed to the rafters.
But that was typically when Caroline and her friends congregated at Marcel's anyway.
Anyone new to New Orleans usually took a few weeks or months- depending on their drinking habits- to find the places frequented by the locals.
The hole in the wall places that had been there for decades, the converted houses, the closed down factories that became nightclubs.
The places even the guidebooks didn't mention when advertising 'authenticity' because the author either hadn't found it or been ordered to secrecy to avoid being swarmed by the tourists looking for 'the real New Orleans', unaware that their patronage of a place, in the excessive numbers that tourists tended to visit in was what caused a business to lose the very same vibe that had lured them there to begin with.
So, when the woman walks into Rousseau's, looking for all the world like she'd taken a wrong turn off the Champs Elysee and just kept going, Caroline assumes that she was somehow lost or a local that they'd never met before.
But, even dressed all in chic black and with a pretentious tilt of her chin, she's beautiful, so it takes roughly three minutes for Klaus to meet her, chat her up and bring her back to his table of friends.
"Katherine Pierce," he introduces, and gives her the names of their large group, and Caroline sees her eyes alight on each of them but in the glazed way that suggests she's not going to remember them all.
Which is fair. It's late Saturday afternoon and they'd all been drinking since brunch had turned into lunch which had bled into afternoon drinks and would finish at Marcel's apartment.
"She's new to town."
"Pleasure," she states, in an accented voice, dropping down into a seat with a jangle of jewellery and Caroline continues to observe her as discreetly as possible.
She couldn't see the tags, but she would guess that she was in head to toe designer outfits, and the bangles on her wrists were a mixture of gold, silver and bronze, none of them showing any discolouration which suggested they were expensive, not something bought from the checkout shelves at H&M.
Marcel shifts slightly, throwing an arm over the back of the couch, behind Caroline's head,
"What brings you to Nola?" he asks casually and she turns her eyes on him,
"I'm at an Atelier for six months," she explains, "I was offered either New York or New Orleans and chose here."
"I'm a designer," she continues when she notes slight confusion in some of their faces, "Women's shoes."
"Why not New York?" Caroline asks, having once dreamed of living in that city but Katherine's shrug suggests she could take or leave the Big Apple.
"I have heard New York City is best for people with lots of money or able to walk very far," she gestures down to her boots which have six-inch heels,
"I lived in Paris for ten years, I don't need a city where you have to queue for six hours or walk six kilometres to get anywhere interesting."
"Also, I have met people from New York City," she adds, "They are assholes."
Stefan snorts into his drink and Caroline wants to protest out of a sense of nationalism but she doesn't really have a leg to stand on.
She'd visited New York once, made the mistake of asking someone to 'move please' instead of saying 'excuse me' and they threatened to beat the crap out of her for rudeness.
She'd decided against pointing out that irony.
Caroline likes to practise her manners on Klaus' flings, but never bothers to learn or remember much beyond the basics, after all, whatever makings of a friendship she begins with these girls tends to end when they reach their expiry date in his bed.
Of course, New Orleans is a small city in terms of hotspots, so they will run into each other from time to time, but where Caroline had used to blush and feel guilty whenever she recognised one of them, or make awkward conversation, now she merely smiles, nods and moves on.
Hayley, who had somehow managed to remain in the group and even brought in her new boyfriend, was the exception to the rule, and only because she clearly had no intention of sleeping with Klaus ever again.
Right this moment, she was sitting opposite Stefan, her eyes on Klaus as he successfully flirted with Katherine, dropping in a few basic phrases in Bulgarian to her apparent delight, and clearly Hayley was noting the same tactics he had used on her.
Caroline only listens with half an ear, making conversation with Marcel about his work and Davina having become best friends with Josh the bartender and they had made it their mission to visit every café in New Orleans before she turned twenty-one.
She learns that Katherine was supposed to be on a date but was bailing with only a text to join them, Klaus buying her drinks as the rest of them got steadily drunker, swaying as they made the short trip to Marcel's apartment to find that it was already filled with people who had crashed there from the party the night before.
The music they were playing was a little too grungy and Caroline used a moment of distraction when introductions were being made to sneak over to Marcel's laptop and access his music list, knowing that he had a set list for every type of party that took place in his apartment.
Although, she'd never had the courage to ask why there was one playlist titled 'Blood soaked orgy'
Katherine is swallowed up by the crowd, as pretty young women often are, especially with her European glamour, foreign accent and the habit she had of pausing and snapping her fingers in irritation when she couldn't think of an English word.
Caroline knows how Klaus' play works, almost down to the minute, so she heads up to the rooftop to hang out with the stoners, sunning herself on a bean bag and listening to Stefan strum the guitar, taking requests from the increasingly faded audience until ninety minutes had passed and she knew that Klaus was currently on the way back to his place with Katherine.
She mentally shrugs, figures that with her novelty, Katherine will last about two weeks and distracts herself with texting Enzo and Davina, who Marcel did not allow to attend Saturday drinking sessions, especially when she had homework.
One good thing about an Englishman is that they always had tea.
Especially Englishmen who were willing to lean into the stereotype.
Klaus had an entire cupboard in his kitchen filled with various kinds and flavours of tea, sorted into their categories.
Loose leaf, bagged, solid bricks like the American's had thrown into Boston Harbour and which Marcel and Stefan had thrown into the Mississippi on the Fourth of July just to mess with him. When he had taken uppers, he sorted his tea according to their regions.
He also had many different teapots, apparently you could use the bone china teapot with the built-in infuser for any loose-leaf tea, but the cast-iron tea pot could only be used for certain loose-leaf teas. There was a method to washing out the bone china teapot, so that it didn't discolour over time, but the cast-iron teapot could be rinsed and left to dry.
Teabags were the casual and easiest way to have tea, just toss them in the cup and pour boiling water over the top.
But this water had to come from a kettle, not a pot on the stove and definitely not from the microwave.
Microwaving tea was the worst atrocity you could commit against Klaus Mikaelson, and yes, he could tell the difference, which Caroline had learnt when she'd tried to give him microwaved tea once to see if he picked up on it.
He'd refused to speak to her for the rest of the day.
Since becoming friends with him, Caroline had got into the habit of drinking tea at least once every few days. Although, one winter when she'd had the flu, she'd drunk it almost every waking hour.
So, when she finds herself craving some peppermint tea, she thinks nothing of heading down to his apartment, letting herself in with the spare key they'd given each other- originally for emergencies- and shouting for him as she headed into the kitchen.
Which is where she found Katherine Pierce leaning against the kitchen sink, sipping on a takeout coffee, wearing one of Klaus' t-shirts over the skinny jeans she seemed to live in.
Three weeks after she and Klaus had started sleeping together.
For a wild moment, Caroline is terrified that it has finally happened, one of Klaus' lays had snapped and started stalking him, breaking into his house and playing girlfriend like it was a bad soap opera story.
Her shock and fear must have shown on her face, because Katherine raises her eyebrows,
"Did Niklaus tell you that we had broken up?" she asks, her voice sultry and teasing, "Or that you and he were exclusive now?"
Her cheeks colour with embarrassment, "No, uh sorry…what are you doing here?"
Katherine only grins and bends down to open the cupboard and throw her coffee away, showing off her legs and ass unnecessarily.
"You mean, apart from Klaus?" she queries and Caroline can't help but notice just how proficient her English was when there weren't any guys around.
"Is he here?" she questions, "I'm just borrowing some coffee."
"In the shower," Katherine tells her, "When he gets out, tell him I've gone to work, would you?"
Caroline forces herself to smile, "Sure, have fun!"
It wasn't possible to literally kill someone with kindness, but dammit, Caroline would love to try.
Still wearing his shirt, Katherine sashays out of the apartment and Caroline takes a moment to close her eyes and wish she hadn't left her own apartment wearing only leggings, a t-shirt and ballet flats.
Katherine had casually modelled back in the day to pay her way through school and Caroline knew that with her own blonde hair and blue eyes that she was pretty, but right now, she felt plain and dowdy.
She hears the shower turn off, not having noticed the running water until she registered its absence and after a few minutes, Klaus stepped out of the bathroom, clad only in a white king-sized towel and on his way to his bedroom before he noticed her.
"Morning love," he greeted, "What're you doing here?"
She gave him a tight smile, "Raiding your tea collection."
He brightens, "Wonderful idea, I'll put the kettle on."
He's still damp, his face flushed from the hot water and his hair wet. Caroline feels her mouth go dry with longing as he fills the kettle, plugging it in and flicking the button, his movements easy and assured, not the least bit concerned about being only one bit removed from nudity.
Then again, they'd seen each other in various stages of undress at this point, and she takes a moment to consider how she'd had his cock in her hand and her mouth, his cum in her palm and her mouth.
She moves around him to grab down the tea and her favourite teapot, enjoying the intimacy and the way she's comfortable in his apartment to help herself to his things.
"Katherine has gone to work," she informs him, keeping her voice light and he gives her a tilted smile,
"She's lasted longer than the rest of your girls." She continues, even as she's terrified that he'll announce that this woman is 'the one'.
"Last week we had 'the talk'," he reveals and Caroline grips the cup tightly in her hand, wondering if she could break the china into fragments in lieu of her heart, wondering how it would make her feel.
"She let me know that as charming as I am, she was merely using me for sex and fun, with no intention of ever having anything more serious with me." He finishes and she has to process the sentence a few times before it makes sense to her.
"Seriously?! She's using you?" she echoes, trying to clarify, "Klaus Mikaelson, being used for casual sex instead of the other way around?!"
He swallows and shifts slightly, "I don't use women," he mutters, "We have fun, and then part ways."
Caroline snorts, "Please, you've left more broken hearts and cold beds in your wake than a man in a country western song."
"Goodness," a new voice comments, "That is concerning."
Caroline starts and turns towards the intruder, noticing his GQ worthy bespoke three-piece suit before studying his features, strong jaw, intelligent eyes and perfectly groomed hair.
She vaguely recognises him but can't place it until Klaus speaks.
"The hell are you doing here?" he demands, "And how the hell did you get into my apartment?"
The man looks to him with a vague expression of amusement, "Interrupting your discussion about your whoring ways," he answers, "And your landlord gave me a key to your door with only an English accent and my claim that we were related as assurance that I was not a burglar."
Of course, she places him now; Elijah Mikaelson.
"Hi," she says, beaming as she places her cup down and offers her hand, "Caroline Forbes, nice to meet you."
He takes her hand lightly, shaking it perfunctorily, "Charmed," he murmurs drily, "Might I call you a cab?"
Seriously?!
"I'm not one of Klaus' one-night stands," she explains, her smile becoming brittle but staying on her face because dammit, she was going to take the high-road here,
"I'm one of his friends."
Behind her, Klaus scoffs and Caroline knew that if this moment was taking place on a tv show, that the Kill Bill siren would be playing.
In fact, she can practically hear them now.
"Caroline is my best friend," Klaus snaps, unknowingly saving his own life, "A fact I know I've mentioned to you before, big brother."
The switch on the kettle clicks and the teapot is slammed down on the counter with a bit more clatter than necessary, causing her and Elijah to jump slightly at the noise.
"Of course," Elijah says, clearing his throat, "Forgive me, I've been rather…absentminded of late."
"No wonder your wife is bloody divorcing you," Klaus sneers, "Who's replaced you in her bed? Is his winning feature his ability to pay attention?"
Caroline looks over her shoulder and glares at him in warning, before turning back to Elijah,
"Welcome to New Orleans," she says, her voice becoming kind, "How long are you staying?"
"In a hotel," Klaus interjects, "I assume that's where you're headed after this?"
Elijah inhales sharply, "I do have a room booked, yes, with the vague idea of moving into an apartment if I wish to prolong my stay, however, thus far, I have no set plan."
"As Niklaus just mentioned, I am newly divorced and felt that a holiday was in order," he explains to Caroline,
"I have never properly travelled through the United States and thought I would start with visiting my younger brother."
Well, that was probably a mistake, Caroline thinks to herself, considering how the first few minutes of the visit was going.
Guessing that Klaus probably didn't need a witness to whatever happened next, Caroline grabs the teapot and slips her pinkie finger through the cup,
"Have fun," she trills brightly,
"Klaus, I'll see you later." she tosses in parting, in case he needed an excuse to cut the reunion short.
She sweeps out of the apartment and barely breathes until she's back in hers, distracting herself with checking on the steeping tea and giving her windowsills a quick dusting while waiting.
It isn't until she's sipping on the steaming brew that she allows herself to properly feel the humiliation she had experienced from two different people in the space of an hour.
Both Katherine and Elijah had disregarded her as one of Klaus' sexual partners, and not even one deserving of respect.
Usually, when people saw the two of them together, they thought they were boyfriend and girlfriend- or weirdly sometimes, siblings- and treated them as such. It was very rarely that she was mistaken as one of his one-night stands.
In fact, she couldn't remember the last time it had happened.
Perhaps one of his actual one-night stands had thought that the two of them had the same relationship to him, but she could usually disabuse them of that notion by stating firmly that she was his friend and they either believed her or at least had the decency to pretend they did.
She decides that she doesn't like either Katherine Pierce or Elijah Mikaelson and hoped like hell that neither of them joined the friendship circles that she and Klaus moved in.
Klaus comes barging into her apartment that evening, while she's in the shower and she doesn't realize until she comes out wrapped in a towel in a reverse of their morning meeting and finds him fiddling with her tv.
"I'm beginning to think we should lure a teenager here to play with this thing until it's working again." He comments, pressing random buttons on her remote with increasing violence.
"Maybe we shouldn't use the word lure when referring to underage kids?" she suggests, "Especially when the plan is to get them into my apartment."
He tosses the remote onto the couch with a muttered curse and turns to her, his eyes landing on the towel and he reaches over, grabbing her by the hips and tugging her towards him.
She goes with a knowing smile and lets him untuck the towel, which drops to the floor and exposes her to his lustful gaze,
"Bloody hell, you are gorgeous," he growls and she smirks,
"I thought you were with Katherine Pierce?" she teases and he rolls his eyes,
"I got a text from her at lunchtime, wanting to know how I'd feel if she tried to get it on with my brother, whom she apparently met on her way out of my apartment this morning," he announces and Caroline smacks a hand to her mouth as she laughs,
"That probably tells you all you need to know about the kind of day I've had." He quips,
"What did you say?" she asks, even as his hands return to her hips and his fingers stroke the skin there, causing goosebumps to skim up her body.
"Well, having had to read Romeo and Juliet, Tristan and Isolde and every other story of forbidden love ever writ in British and Irish history, I knew forbidding it would only ensure their passionate union. Therefore, I had no choice but to tell her I was fine with it, provided she and I ended things immediately."
Caroline hums sympathetically, as he drops down onto the couch and tugs on her hands until she's standing with her legs on either side of his,
"So you need comfort?" she teases and he looks up, his eyes already hooded and she squirms slightly as desire pools in her.
"I need to finish this day doing something productive," he counters, "And right now, getting you off is the best way to achieve that."
She tilts her head back, her chuckle ending in a squeal as he nips at her thigh,
"Have you noticed that your accent is really thick right now?" she queries as he follows up his bite with a soothing kiss, "Like…as thick as your first few months here?"
He hums, bumping his nose against her curls and she unconsciously moves her hips closer to him, "That'll happen when I'm chatting with another Brit," he explains, between kisses up and down her thigh, making her tremble with anticipation when he gets close to her pussy.
"Or if I decide to binge watch BBC again," he adds thoughtfully and she laughs,
"Please don't," she protests, "The last time you did that we couldn't understand you for a solid week, Stefan was running google translate whenever you spoke."
"Let's not talk about our mates when I'm about to go down on you, hmmm?" he suggests drily and she shrugs, "Maybe talking about Stefan is my new kink?"
He growls and her laughter is cut off when he presses a fierce kiss to her clit, breaking away to tease it with his tongue before slipping down to her core, laving her folds and giving her hot, wet, intense kisses that have her shivering and whimpering as her arousal coated his tongue.
Her hand plays lightly with his blonde curls as his head bobs between her thighs, his hands gripping the backs of her legs to keep her where he wanted her as he penetrated her with his tongue.
And she bites her lip, thrilling in the idea that he's eating her out in her living area, her bedroom only a few feet away but apparently too far for his needs, and the window is right there and obviously nobody could see them unless Spiderman decided to climb the walls of the building opposite, but there's still a risk, however small and it has her moaning even louder.
Maybe the neighbours would hear and be jealous of her sex life?
She pants his name, along with variations of 'Oh my god,' and 'don't stop', even though he shows no signs of doing the latter, even when she comes, his tongue continues its motions, even as he gives her a wicked glance. It's not until her knees wobble that he pushes her lengthways across the couch and spreads her legs wide, kneeling between them and pushing down his pants.
She has a moment where she thinks he's finally going to have full-blown sex with her and can almost feel his cock slipping into her pussy and she arches her hips as the aftershocks leave her trembling.
But instead, Klaus slid his fingers inside her, coating them before wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking from tip to length,
"Want a hand?" Caroline offers, her shoulders shaking with amusement and he glowers at the pun,
"This is the closest you've ever come to not being attractive," he pants, "Anyone else and I'd be soft right now."
She laughs again while reaching behind her to scoop her hair up and over the arm of the couch before playing idly with her breasts as Klaus' hand picked up the pace.
He came on her stomach in long spurts and she pressed her foot to his chest, gently pushing him away until he was lying in a mirror position to her.
"Feel better?" she asked as he tried to catch his breath,
"Well…" he ponders, "My brother is still on the same continent as me, so about as well as could be expected."
His cum is sticky and warm on her skin, and she contemplates getting back into the shower, but the energy for that is currently beyond her and there is something sensual about being here on the couch with her best friend-with-benefits.
"I'm glad we're like this." she announces, impulsively, and his breathing stills,
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she confirms, "This is good for us both."
He pushes himself up onto his elbows, so they can look each other in the eyes,
"I wouldn't change our relationship for anything," he promises and she nudges him with her knee,
"Nor I." she replies, in a mocking English accent and he groans,
"That was terrible."