Day 4 already wow! This turned out to be a monster drabble, I hope you like it.
Klaroline AU Week: All Human
Klaus is a food critic and Caroline is the sous chef of the restaurant he is reviewing. He's opinionated and fussy and she's a control freak that doesn't take too kindly to any sort of criticism. What happens when they clash?
No Reservations
Entrée
"Klaus Mikaelson is on table four!" Lexi squealed excitedly as she rushed into the restaurant's kitchen laden with an armful of dirty plates. Saturday was their busiest night of the week when they did their most covers and they were currently at the peak of dinner service.
"Lexi!" Caroline hissed, joining her at the sink as she unloaded the plates. "You shouldn't joke about things like that; I don't want the rest of the kitchen staff to be nervous for no reason."
"It's not a joke," she reiterated. "He's really here in all of his gorgeousness. Seriously, those pictures in the newspaper don't do him justice, Caroline."
"Well if that's the case, I'm not sure why you thought it was necessary to alert the whole kitchen."
"I thought it would motivate them."
"Klaus Mikaelson is a shark when it comes to reviewing, he takes no prisoners. It was only last week that he berated the Head Chef at Aldea for the worst Cochinillo Assado he's ever tasted." Klaus Mikaelson was the Food Editor and Chief Restaurant Critic at the New York Times, his reviews could make or break your career and that's what scared the hell out of Caroline.
She always knew she wanted to make food her career and shortly after graduating she'd travelled to Paris to study at the famed Le Cordon Bleu under some of the best chefs in the world. She'd always favoured French cuisine over others and after returning to New York she had taken up a number of apprentice positions across the city and worked her way up the very competitive ranks of the hospitality industry.
Her hard work and determination had finally paid off when she was appointed sous chef at the famed Per Se restaurant on Columbia Circle. She knew she was a talented chef otherwise she wouldn't be there. According to her best friend Katherine and the restaurant's Maitre'd, it was mainly due to her control freak tendencies and obsessive attention to detail.
"Okay, I have no idea what you just said, but the food here is delicious," she reasoned. "So, he'll have nothing but great things to say."
"Yeah, well when it comes to that man I don't trust him; I think sometimes he complains about things just for the shock and awe factor."
"That man doesn't need publicity, have you seen those dimples?" Caroline rolled her eyes by way of response, walking away towards the service window. Luckily she had a pretty good view of table four from there. Her breath hitched in her throat as she spied those familiar dirty, blonde curls and those crimson lips she could see even from this far away.
"Perving on our resident reviewer, are we?" A familiar voice asked, joining her by the window.
"Last time I checked this is back of house and you are very much front of house, Kitty Kat."
"I came here to warn you about Mr Foodie in my front of house but obviously you already know."
"Our gossipy waitress Lexi has already told me about him and all of his apparent gorgeousness," she drawled. "You know a little heads-up that the Times most revered food critic was dining here would have been helpful."
"He used a pseudonym," she hissed, defensively. "Do you really think a food critic calls to pre-warn the restaurant that he's coming?"
"Sorry, I'm just a little…"
"Flustered?" She teased, sending Caroline a knowing grin. "He's even better close up. I can't say much for his dinner companion though, talk about snobby." Caroline's eyes flickered across to the other side of the table where a long haired brunette sat. From the unimpressed look on her face Caroline didn't doubt Katherine's assessment.
"Is that his girlfriend?"
"Who knows? He has a different female every week according to the social pages."
"You're not paid to stand around chatting!" the Executive Chef barked from the pass. "How about we try something where Pierce sees to the customers out front and maybe you could come and help me cook this century, Forbes." They gave each other a knowing look before parting ways, Enzo always was a grumpy ass mid-service.
"He's just another food critic," Enzo said, breaking Caroline from her chopping trance a few minutes later. "Don't worry about him."
"Huh?"
"I can tell you're anxious my little grasshopper but you're going to have a lot more reviews over the course of your cooking career and the sooner you start to develop a tough skin the better."
"Easier said than done," Caroline muttered, realising she was going to have to produce the best meal of her life yet, hoping the nerves swirling violently in her stomach wouldn't impede her progress.
The next two hours flew by in a flurry of Hudson Valley Moulard Duck Foie Gras, Butter Poached Nova Scotia Lobster, Herb Roasted Elysian Fields Lamb and Pressé of Yorkshire Porcelet. Caroline found that at least keeping so busy she didn't have much time to think about him and his possible thoughts about her food.
"Apparently he wants to speak with the chef," Katherine announced, coming into the kitchen twenty minutes after the dessert and cheese selection had been served.
"What? Why?" Caroline asked, absentmindedly holding up her knife, wondering if that was a good sign or a bad one. She'd snuck a look at his table only ten minutes earlier and he seemed to be enjoying himself, even if his dinner companion wasn't.
"I didn't ask questions," she huffed. "I figured when New York's most well-known reviewer makes a request you don't question it."
"Enzo," she called out in the direction of their freezer. "You need to go out to Klaus Mikaelson's table."
"I'll do no such thing," he complained, coming back into view.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me, I shouldn't have to go out there and pander to yet another food critic. My food should speak for itself," he replied, stubbornly. "And given I own this place I think it's my right, don't you?"
"Oh, so now you're going to choose to be pig headed," Katherine shot back.
"I have to agree with Kat."
"You know most employees would get fired for speaking about their boss like that."
"Oh come on Enzo, we all know that under this prickly exterior lies a harmless pussy cat," Katherine cooed.
"Flattery won't get me to the front of house, Pierce."
"You have to go out there, it won't be a good look, Enzo," Caroline insisted.
"Well, if you're so concerned about appearances my little sous chef, I think you should go in my place. Consider this first-time experience my gift to you." Caroline felt ill all of a sudden. The nerves that had begun to settle after she'd sent out the last meal returning with a vengeance.
"Oh, I can't go out there," she hissed, almost like she thought he was going to hear her from the kitchen.
"Oh, so now you can't go out there," Enzo quipped.
"Well someone better bloody well get out there," Katherine ordered. "You've been bickering in here for five minutes now; I wouldn't be surprised if he's left the restaurant in the meantime."
"Off you go mon protégé," he ordered, before busying himself at the sink. "And Katherine go away and prance around or whatever it is that you do."
"I can't go out there, Kat," she whispered, pulling her aside.
"Yes, you can."
"No, I can't."
"It's just nerves, you'll be fine, Care."
"You don't understand," she replied through gritted teeth. "We've sort of had prior relations."
"Define relations," she shot back before consulting the deep blush that had crossed Caroline's face. "You did the nasty. How the hell do I not know about this?"
"It was five years ago when I was studying in Paris, I didn't think I'd ever have to see him again."
"Yet, you didn't think it would be useful to mention this little piece of historical information when he arrived?"
"I was planning on hiding out in the kitchen as usual," she rambled, her breaths becoming shallower with every word. "And excuse me for being more distracted about my cooking rather than recounting my sexual history."
"Okay, just calm down, Care," she soothed. "How were things left? Please tell me it was a happy parting of ways."
"Mmmm, kind of unfinished."
"Unfinished, how?"
"After we, well you know, I sort of left while he was still sleeping."
"Why would you want to walk out on a handsome, male specimen that like that?"
"I…"
"Oi you two! Enough with the bloody mother's meeting," Enzo called out. "Last time I checked I gave you both an order."
"You've got two choices. One, you don't go out there and he leaves here and writes bad things, or two you go out there, he remembers what you did and then he writes bad things."
"I'm not a fan of either of those options, do you have a third?"
"You try to get our stubborn ass Executive Chef out there, but I don't like your chances and at the moment we're really running against the clock."
"Just great," she muttered, removing her hat and trying to make some effort with her appearance.
"Uh, you might also want to relinquish the dangerous weapon before you go out there, he might think you're trying to threaten him into a good review or something." She said, taking her kitchen knife from her grasp. In all the drama, Caroline hadn't even realised she was still holding onto it. "Good luck!"
"I'm going to need it," The restaurant was almost empty this time of night, one thing she was glad about if things went south. He looked just as good as she remembered in a blue, unbuttoned at the neck shirt that emphasised his eyes. She could make out familiar necklaces peeking out from underneath and was trying to ignore the memories they were evoking.
She couldn't miss the shock and familiarity that crossed his features as she approached him and his date.
"Mr Mikaelson, it's certainly a treat having the New York Time's premiere food critic dining at Per Se tonight." She figured if she was polite enough he'd return the favour, well she hoped so anyway.
He regarded her curiously, obviously composing himself before responding for his date's benefit. Although she looked completely unimpressed with her appearance at the table, Caroline was glad she was there so it couldn't get too personal.
"Now, you don't look like Enzo St John," he smiled, flashing a rogue and completely disarming dimple her way, she'd really tried to forget those, bastard.
"Chef St John sends his apologies for not being able to meet you but something personal came up at the last minute and he had to leave after dessert was served," she lied.
"So, who are you then?" The brunette asked, her sour expression not lost on Caroline.
"I'm Caroline Forbes, his sous chef," she said, trying to ignore his intense gaze as she addressed his rude excuse for a date. "I hope everything was to your liking this evening."
"I don't usually like to comment in too much detail before my review comes out but I thought it was okay," he replied, lazily. Just okay? This was worse than she thought. "The combination of flavours was good for the most part and the wines were well matched to each course. The lamb was rather disappointing though."
"Disappointing how, if you don't mind me asking?" She baulked, incredulously.
"Frankly, it was overcooked." She wanted to scream at him but Caroline knew that would probably make things much worse. She cooked the lamb herself, it was her signature dish and she sure as hell knew it wasn't overcooked; he was just being an ass because his over inflated ego had been a little crushed. After five years you'd think he'd be over it but obviously not.
Caroline had always regretted leaving him that night without saying goodbye but looking at his smug smirk as he told her about the lamb she didn't any longer, her initial instincts about him were obviously right.
"Well, thank you for the feedback, I hope you both enjoy the rest of your evening," she murmured, nodding her head by way of a farewell and walking away trying to contain her rage, until she was back in the kitchen at least.
"How did it go?" Katherine asked, scaring her momentarily.
"You should have let me take my knife," she growled stalking past, not elaborating any further. She wasn't in the mood to chat right now.
Le Plat Principal
"Caroline! Katherine! You both have to see this!" Lexi chirped as they walked into the restaurant six days later.
"We need to really get her some Valium," Katherine joked as she bounded over to them like an excitable Labrador puppy, Caroline noticing for the first time that she was clutching a copy of the Times.
"If that's what I think it is I don't want to see it. That smug idiot can kiss my ass." She cursed
"Well, as wonderful as that image you've created is Forbes, I really think you should," Enzo drawled, joining them at the bar.
"I'll have a look at it later, I should start prepping for lunch service," she stalled, wanting to put off the horrible moment a little bit longer.
"Per Se has always been considered one of the classic French restaurants in New York City," Katherine read from the paper aloud, not giving Caroline a chance to escape. "While tradition is welcome in any good food establishment, my dining experience was…"
"Stop, I don't want to hear," she bit out, probably a little too dramatically in hindsight. Katherine gave her a weary look and cleared her throat before continuing.
"My dining experience was a sheer delight from the outstanding service, the warm ambience and the quality array of wine choices that perfectly matched each course of the varied and delicious tasting menu."
"What now?"
"The true hero though was the food. With a beautifully diverse menu that champions fresh, local produce, every dish is on point. The Hudson Valley Moulard Duck Foie Gras was a decadent start to the meal and the butter poached Nova Scotia Lobster was creamy and tender.
"However, the stand out dish of the evening was the roasted Elysian Fields lamb that was cooked so perfectly it melted in your mouth. It wasn't just the meat itself either, all of the accompaniments packed a flavoursome punch thanks to the infusion of fresh herbs and a knockout red wine jus."
Caroline had to sit down, did she hear all of that right? What happened to it being overcooked?
"Eating at Per Se was an exceptional dining experience which I would gladly reprise. I would like to commend not just Chef St John for his skills and stewardship of the restaurant but all of the staff including his newly acquired but talented sous chef, Caroline Forbes." Katherine kept reading but Caroline had well and truly stopped listening.
"Hello, Caroline? Are you okay?" Lexi asked a few moments later, waving her hand in front of her face to grab her attention.
"Um, yeah," she murmured, uncertainly. "Did I just hear all of that right?"
"I can read you know," Katherine snorted.
"Aren't you glad you read it now, princess?" Enzo asked dryly, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Caroline figured that was the most cheer she was going to get out of her boss. "Now, get to work everyone, I'm trying to run a business after all.
Katherine remained with her at the bar watching her curiously. "Why do I get the impression that you're not as overjoyed as you should be?"
"Him."
"You're going to have to be a little more specific."
"That arrogant son of a…" she trailed off. "I'm so mad, how dare he do this to me?"
"What? Give Per Se an amazing review? Or single you out in said review?"
"He told me my lamb was overcooked, he said the meal was just okay, do you really think those comments were reflective of that review, Kat?"
"You said it yourself, the lamb wasn't overcooked and he was just acting out because his precious ego was bruised."
"Yes, but to make me wait almost a week in agony like that? Don't you think that was a little childish?"
"Maybe he thinks sneaking out on him in the middle of the night was childish," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "You're getting awfully worked up over some guy you apparently don't care about. Unless..."
"That's just crazy. You know what? I'm going to give him a piece of my mind right now," she growled, barrelling towards the front door.
"What about work?"
"I won't be long, cover for me. Surely that review must have given me some brownie points with Enzo," she called out not even bothering to look back she was that angry.
The New York Times' offices weren't far which was both a good and a bad thing. Good because she could get back to work relatively quickly but bad because it didn't give her much time to calm down. Where the hell did this guy get off?
"I'm here to see Klaus Mikaelson," she told the receptionist, who gave her a look which basically said she had no hope of it happening.
"I'm sorry but Mr Mikaelson isn't available."
"I need to see him, it's important. I'm Caroline Forbes, he'll know me."
"You sound like every other woman who apparently desperately needs to see him," she drawled. Caroline wasn't surprised he had little groupies but she was offended someone thought she was one of them.
"What's so urgent, love," a very distinct and familiar English accent enquired. She spun around straight into his broad chest and smirking face, those lips curved into a sly smile. She faltered initially, trying to ignore the smell of his spicy aftershave but managed to eventually regain her composure.
"How dare you," she said, by way of response.
"And here I thought you'd be thanking me, silly me for thinking you'd actually be appreciative that I put you on the map of the New York cooking scene," he said sarcastically before walking away towards the revolving doors.
"You can't just walk away from me," she demanded, following him through the door.
"That's never stopped you before, love," he snapped and Caroline had to admit he did have a point.
"I thought I told you not to call me that?"
"You know my thoughts on the matter, I don't like people telling me what to do."
"Well, that's mature," she muttered, finally catching up by his side as he powered down the street.
"Oh like sneaking out in the middle of the night mature? Seriously love, it's probably best you stop talking, you're giving me far too much ammunition."
"Like you haven't done worse at some point, Mikaelson," she scoffed. "You know like berating my food to my face and then writing the complete opposite, because that wasn't cruel at all."
"I didn't berate your food, in fact I recall saying it was okay."
"The word every chef wants to hear about their food. You also said my lamb was overcooked yet proceeded to praise it as 'melt in your mouth' in your review."
"You know," he said, stopping in his tracks to turn and look at her. "Most people would kill for a review like this and from me of all people."
"Oh really?"
"Yes, really and you know that," he countered. "Why don't you just say thank you and then we can go our separate ways, you know just like we did five years ago."
"But I want to know why?"
"Why what?"
"Why you said one thing and then wrote something completely different," she murmured, trying not to lose herself in those deep, blue eyes as they continued to spar on the street obvious to all the inquisitive onlookers.
"You're a good chef, Caroline. I remember when you cooked me that meal in Paris, it was lamb with a red wine jus and I was blown away by your skills so early on in your career. Obviously I didn't know you were the sous chef but once I did, it all made sense."
"You remember what I cooked?" She asked, her breath hitching in her throat.
"I remember more than you think," he murmured. Caroline could feel herself falling back into a familiar Klaus Mikaelson haze and knew she had to get out now. Anger and outrage worked for her so Caroline figured she should use more of that. "So, you knew it was my signature dish and you purposely criticised it, what to make some cheap point?"
"I was surprised to see you and I'll admit I may have acted a little mischievously at your expense but you're not innocent yourself."
Le Musée d'Orsay - Paris France - 5 years earlier
"Vincent Van Gogh was a tortured soul," an English voice interrupted as she stared at his famed Starry Night over the Rhone painting.
"Well, I think cutting off your own ear would definitely confirm that fact," she replied, turning around to meet the stranger's eyes but not expecting them to be quite so blue and penetrating.
"This was the view from his window at the asylum, I think it's very telling of the time and his state of mind."
"Are you one of the guides?" She asked, curiously.
"No, just an art history nerd," he chuckled. 'But I'd be more than happy to give you a tour if you'd like?"
""I'll bet," she drawled. "How does that tour guide line work for you?"
"You'd be surprised, I probably have about a seventy-five per cent success rate. How are my chances looking so far?"
"I'm too smart to be seduced by you," she replied, cocking her left eyebrow.
"That's why I like you, love."
"It's Caroline." He looked at her blankly before she continued. "You know my name, so you don't have to call me love."
"So, about that tour?"
"Why not, it sounds like you certainly know your art even if you did acquire it by picking up random women."
"Let's begin, shall we?" He said sending her a wolfish grin.
If it wasn't the eyes it was the dimples and if it wasn't the lips it was the white Henley he wore, fitted snugly across his chest with a few necklaces hiding underneath. She told herself that it was just a harmless tour and then they'd go their separate ways.
She didn't know him but Caroline felt drawn to the stranger who spoke so vividly about art as they made their way through all the rooms. Apparently he was a journalist for the Times and was visiting from London for the weekend for work. He suggested a drink and Caroline found herself agreeing.
"The Cordon Bleu," he whistled. "I'm impressed."
"It's been tough but I've loved every minute and now it's time to go back to the States and do something with everything I've learned," she replied. "No pressure or anything."
"I'm sure you'll do fine, love."
"What did I tell you about calling me that again?"
"Not to do it, but I have this thing where I don't do what I'm told," he joked. "And you're going home tomorrow?"
"I leave on a midday flight," she sighed, wistfully.
"You sound like you don't want to go back."
"I do, I miss my friends and family and I really want to get my career started, it's just difficult to leave such an amazing place I've come to love behind."
"You might physically leave Paris but it never leaves you heart, trust me," he explained. "Anyway, it's not like it's going anywhere, you can always come back one day."
"You might be right," she smiled.
"So, Miss Chef Extraordinaire, what is you speciality?"
"I'd hardly call myself that but I cook a mean lamb," she boasted. "You'd love it, I guarantee it."
"Well, that's a shame you're leaving tomorrow, isn't it?" The afternoon had been so effortless and spontaneous, something Caroline wasn't given her control freak tendencies. For some reason she didn't want it to end and she just wanted to live in the last moments she had in the City of Light.
"How about dinner, tonight? I'll cook." He looked a little surprised by her suggestion but the dimpled smile he gave her was telling her he agreed.
"If you poison me though I'll never forgive you."
"Well, if I poison you, you'll probably be dead so it won't really matter now, will it?"
"Well when you put it like that...I'm staying at a friend's apartment around the corner if that's easier or we could..."
"That's perfect, there's a gourmet supermarket a few streets away, so we can pick up some ingredients there," she rambled, excitedly. If there was something Caroline loved doing it was cooking for people. She'd met a few friends during her time in Paris but no one that had ever piqued her interest quite like Klaus Mikaelson had.
A few hours later and he was happily washing the dishes, something he insisted on doing seeing as she had cooked. There was nothing she liked more than a satisfied customer that wasn't averse to doing some domestic chores.
"That jus should come with a warning."
"A warning?"
"Yes, be warned that one serve won't be enough and you'll need at least ten more just in the one sitting," he chuckled. "Most people think that those are the easiest sauces to make but in fact they're one of the hardest. How exactly do you make that?"
"I could tell you my secrets but then I'd have to kill you," she teased.
"Oh come on."
"I was serious about that killing part," she shot back. "I'm glad you enjoyed it though. You seem to know a little bit about cooking."
"My mother was a cook at the local pub when I was growing up in country England actually, she used to let me help out and I picked up her love for food, I guess you could say."
"My mother can't cook to save herself, she's still not sure where I got the talent from given my father is just as bad, if not worse."
"She must be proud of you though."
"I think so, I suppose it's not going to mean much until I do something with all this training," she shared. "What made you want to be a journalist?"
"I guess I just really like words," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.
"So, what exactly do you write about?"
"When I was fresh out of university you'd write anything they gave you but I've actually started to do some feature articles and even a couple of restaurant reviews."
"We've been hanging out for this long but you didn't feel the need to tell me we have something in common?" She baulked. "I mean maybe if I was lucky you could be writing about me one day."
"Well, if you feed me more of that red wine jus I may just say something nice, if you're lucky."
"Says the guy who just polished off his plate," she joked, hitting him with the tea towel she was holding.
"Hey, that's not a nice way to treat someone who's washing up after your mess," he teased, splashing her with the soapy water from the sink.
"You did not just do that," she warned.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" She didn't take long to retaliate, scooping off some of the bubbles from the detergent and rubbing them in his blonde curls. He grabbed her around the waist attempting to push her away but that never happened. In seconds his lips were on hers, his hands were caressing her lower back and her hands were splayed across his chest.
"We shouldn't be doing this," she said between their urgent kisses. It felt so good and if Caroline was being honest she could kiss his crimson lips all day.
"Why?"
"I'm going home tomorrow, nothing can come of this," she panted.
"Why? Afraid you'll fall in love with me? Don't worry, I get this a lot from women, so don't feel bad."
"Don't flatter yourself," she groaned against his lips as his hands ventured southward, unbuttoning her jeans. "I have plans and a future in New York."
"I fully support plans for the future, in fact I have my own funnily enough. So, how about we just think about tonight?"
"You've got a deal," she cried out, just as his hands found their way inside her black panties. There was no going back now.
"I may have left early but we both agreed that it was one night only. You were going back to London and I was flying to New York, it would never have worked."
"I understand that but you could have just said goodbye rather than sneaking out like you did," he admitted. "I guess I just didn't expect that kind of behaviour from you."
"Well, we're not all perfect," she mumbled. "Look, thank you for the review, I really did appreciate it even if it didn't seem like that earlier."
"Wow, finally she says thank you," he drawled. "Now that's finally sorted, I'm going to lunch."
"Going to crush someone else's dreams?" She joked, raising her left eyebrow.
"Well, I can't be nice too often, I have a reputation to protect after all. Goodbye, Caroline." He leaned over and placed a lingering kiss on her cheek, causing heat to spread through her body, memories of their night together coming back all at once. Before she could utter a response he was gone, swallowed up by the busy New York lunchtime crowd.
Dessert
"Do you always stalk women at their place of employment?"
"Says the woman that did the exact same thing to me a week ago and then sent me these," Klaus murmured holding up the familiar black box filled with freshly made éclairs. "You know it's generally frowned upon to bribe a food critic with pastries don't you?"
She'd just finished dinner service and was making her way home from the restaurant when he appeared from what seemed like nowhere. She wasn't altogether upset because she'd sent those pastries secretly hoping he'd seek her out, looks like her little ploy had worked.
"You've already done the review so I think it's okay under the circumstances."
"So, do you usually send random males sweets?"
"I'd hardly call you random, but no I don't. I guess I just wanted to thank you for the review given I didn't show really show my appreciation in the best way last week," she mumbled.
"You think?"
"Well you did make me doubt my cooking skills and my whole choice of career for a week, so I think my reaction was kind of warranted." She noticed his face fall briefly before responding.
"That wasn't fair," he admitted. "I'm sorry about that, I was just so surprised to see you and after the way we left things I let my feelings get in the way."
"Your feelings?"
"Confusion mostly and some anger if I'm being honest."
"That's fair after the way I left things."
"Plus those niggling, residual feelings that never really went away. When I woke up to find you gone it was so difficult and, no, not because you crushed my ego or whatever you think it was."
"It was the wrong thing to do but I panicked," she shared. "I was torn by what I'd felt for you in such a short period of time and my future career plans and after we agreed it was only one night I assumed that's what you wanted too."
"Well, you brought it up first, I thought it was what you wanted. You know I would have never made you choose."
"Talk about a breakdown in conversation."
"Well, to be honest we were otherwise occupied," he grinned. "When you walked out of the kitchen the other night all the memories flooded back and it was like no time had passed and we were back in Paris again."
"That was a good time."
"It was and I was greedy for more time with you, so I might have baited you that night at Per Se on purpose."
"I thought you did that to get me back for leaving?"
"To a certain degree but my underlying reason was because I knew you'd come tearing down to my offices to seek clarification."
"I can't believe you did that!"
"It worked, didn't it?" He smirked. "Anyway it's not like you're so innocent, love. Using pastries to lure me here?"
"You got me. I guess we're just as bad as each other."
"No, we just can't stay away from each other, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. We have missed out on five years together. So now we've done the career thing, how about we work on us?"
"But what about the brunette and all of the other women I've heard about?"
"Hayley was a set up by my misguided sister but it's obvious you've been reading too much idle gossip, Caroline," he scolded. "I don't have a girlfriend but if you'd like to take up that role I'd be more than happy to have you."
"That sounds like a plan," He moved closer so their mouth were within inches of hers, fastening a lock of hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes in anticipation as he leaned in brushing his lips softly against hers. Caroline could definitely get used to this.
9 years later
"Order up! Table ten," Caroline yelled from the pass, looking out on her restaurant Critique Gastronomie. Yes, her restaurant. Well, if she was being honest it was theirs.
After a whirlwind romance, Klaus and Caroline had married and only a few years later opened their own business in the popular Soho District of New York City. She was Head Chef and Klaus was involved in the business side still writing reviews every now and again when it wasn't deemed to be a conflict of interest of course.
Enzo once told her that the feeling of owning your own restaurant was like nothing else and he was right. She felt equal parts of contentment, pride and accomplishment and doing it with Klaus by her side was the cherry on top.
"We have a reviewer in the house," Katherine approached, breaking her from her trance.
"Oh really? Is it Tracey Christiansen at the Times or Angus Taylor from The New Yorker?"
"Take a look, he's over on table one." Her eyes flickered across the busy restaurant, her heart leaping at the sight. "If it isn't the Klaus Mikaelson."
"He's definitely improved his taste in dates over the years," Katherine commented.
"If you'll excuse me, I'm going out there for a minute to try and butter him up."
"I don't think you'll have any problems," Katherine said, watching her walk away a definite spring in her step.
She couldn't have been happier for her friend or more thankful. She did introduce her to Klaus' brother Elijah, after all. Even grumpy Enzo had softened slightly over the years after meeting his match in Rebekah Mikaelson.
"I heard there was an important reviewer in the house this evening," she grinned, approaching the table and gazing into the warm eyes of her husband.
"She's a real shark, goes by the name of Riley Mikaelson," he answered, gesturing to their five-year-old daughter in the neighbouring chair.
"Hey baby," she greeted their blonde ball of joy by rubbing her nose against hers playfully.
"Hi Mama," she laughed, like she always did when Caroline did that. "Although, I think it's past someone's bedtime, daddy."
"I thought she deserved a treat," he replied, defensively.
"We're spoiling her with all this haute cuisine, she joked. "I don't think there's another five-year-old out there with a more sophisticated palate."
"Well, look at her parents are you surprised? I really wish you could join me and my date for dinner though, love." She stood behind his chair and whispered in his ear.
"You know I'd love that but I'm Head Chef and part owner, I need to set an example for the staff. However, when I get home I'm all yours," she whispered. "I'll even wear nothing but my chef hat."
"Have I told you how much I love you?" He groaned and she could sense his excitement.
"Yes, but feel free to tell me again."