AN: Prompt was "KC + you jog shirtless past my house every morning. This turned into a monster. Part 2 to come.

The first time it had happened she'd almost spilled hot tea all over herself.

She wasn't an early riser by nature. She was a student, it was almost a given that she was expected to sleep in as late as possible, only to suddenly realise that she had a lecture or a seminar to be at in 20 minutes time, and it took 15 to get from campus to her apartment.

And it wasn't her fault really, that the guy had chosen to jog past her house shirtless despite the ridicolousness of the English weather.

He looked gorgeous from a distance. She had eyes, she could see the sandy blonde hair the way the muscles of his chest and abdomen tapered down deliciously into his footy shorts.

He was cut.

It only lasts for about thirty seconds, he's there and gone before she can even blink. A part of her is even convinced it was all a mirage, designed to torture her with images of hot, sweaty blonde guys in the wake of her break up with Tyler and the drastic decision to move from America to London.

If she's being honest with herself, maybe it had been a bit drastic. She'd been in her final year of physiotherapy studies and the curriculum over here was vastly different, not to mention that she'd have to find a placement so that she could actually graduate.

Anyway, turns out it wasn't a mirage, because she almost smacks into him the very next morning, when she's on her way out to catch the bus. She actually doesn't see him coming, but the clipped, accented tone telling her to 'watch out' has her spinning to see a very well muscled back slowly moving away from her, muscles rippling underneath surprisingly tanned skin.

She cocks her head to the side, taking the moment to admire the view before shaking her head and beginning her progress towards the bus stop at the end of the street.

She did not have time for mysterious, gorgeous, blonde men in her life.

It's two weeks before she sees her mysterious runner again, she'd been buried in her studies and concentrating on making friends, building a social life she'd never had in the first place.

Kol Mikaelson was everything that she thought she'd never need. She would never cross that line and sleep with him, but it had taken all of ten minutes of them talking for the two of them to become fast friends. Kol was a flirt, but also incredibly intelligent with a wicked streak a mile long.

He'd introduced her to a bunch of people, and she'd found herself welcomed into their usually tight knit bunch of friends. Things were looking up.

It's the strangled yell that draws her attention away from her textbook, causing a frown to crease her brows as she gets up slowly from the table, staring out the window.

The low brick wall of her garden means that she can't really see anything, in fact the only thing she can see is the top half of a set of sandy blonde curls. And then the guy struggles to his feet, and it confirms her suspicions.

She watches him take two, limping steps before she's darting towards the front door, yanking it open and clattering down the path. He's some distance away by now (still shirtless) and she has to raise her voice to make herself heard.

"Hey!"

The guy turns, and her breath catches in her throat, because she knows who he is. Niklaus Mikaelson is instantly recognisable to any die hard footy fan in England. The captain, and very successful striker of a top English Premier League Team, his face was plastered across every Adidas ad that you could think of. Oh and if her suspicions were correct he was Kol's older brother. Kol hadn't brought it up in conversation, and she'd followed his lead and hadn't mentioned it.

"Can I help you?" The man, Klaus Mikaelson asks impatiently.

She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at him.

"No you probably can't. But I can help you. Stop putting weight on that ankle." She snaps suddenly as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"It's fine. I just took a stumble, I've had far worse." He waves a hand dismissively, and she has to refrain from rolling her eyes because he is being such a boy about all this. Tyler was exactly the same whenever he took an injury on the football field.

"You're not going to be well enough to play on the weekend if you try and walk on it."She points out lightly.

She sees the flicker of surprise cross his face but he says nothing, instead easing himself down to sit on her garden wall.

"Yes and I suppose you're qualified to do diagnose my injury?" He asks incredulously. She does roll her eyes this time as she crouches down in front of him, reaching for his running shoe.

"Give me about six months and I will be actually. I'm studying physiotherapy. May I?" She asks politely as he nods.

She starts unlacing his shoe,noticing the expensive make and brand as she tugs it gently off his foot. He hides the wince of pain well as she peels his sock half off his foot and probes gently at the skin of his ankle, taking note of any sore spots or tenderness.

"You're American." That accented voice interrupts her train of thoughts as she silently diagnoses him (minor strain, but he should be fine for the weekend), and she forces herself to look up at him.

Her eyes drag slowly over his chest before meeting his, a crystalline blue that makes his face look kinder.

"I am." She confirms softly.

"And what brings you across the pond then?" He asks curiously, like he genuinely cares and wants to know.

"I needed a sea change." Is all she says before getting up and dusting off her hands. She offers him her arm to put weight on as she helps him into a standing position.

"What's the prognosis Doc?" He asks a little playfully, causing her to glance at him in surprise. There's a smile tugging at the corners of his lips and his eyes are kind as he gazes at her.

"You should be fine for Saturday." She replies, holding back her own smile. "It's just a minor strain, but all the same I'd recommend getting a professional to take a look at it. I'm not qualified after all." She remarks pointedly as he looks slightly ashamed.

"I apologise sweetheart. I was understandably wary when you caught my attention."

She waves him away as she helps him limp back onto the path.

"Stay here and I'll get my car. I usually catch the bus but I'll make an exception for you today."

"I'm honored." He sweeps her a mock bow as she refrains from pushing at his chest. He's infuriating and challenging in the best possible way.

"Do you even own a shirt?" She asks, spinning back around to face him. She's rewarded with his genuine laughter from him, a surprised expression painted across his features.

"Plenty love. Now how about that lift?"