Chapter Text
Pizza runs for impromptu family dinners really shouldn’t be this maddening, really. You pick up the phone, you say what you want – or in Lizzie’s case, grab the phone from Hope’s hand and proceed to bark orders – and then you wait for the pizza to come, glowering because Lizzie has once again insisted on having pineapples on the pizza. On all of the pizzas, even the ones with pepperoni, what had been hoped to be their final saving grace.
Lizzie was nothing if not cunning.
Hope tries to burn Lizzie’s new bangs off. Josie stops her just in time.
All the squabble is background noise to Klaus and Caroline, so used to it that they don’t even try to intervene until there’s screaming to be heard, or the smell of burned hair. So far, none, so they choose to take whatever peace they can get.
“Don’t tell Lizzie I said this, but I’m kind of digging the pineapple,” says Caroline with a mouthful of cheese.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart - another ten years with me and you will find your tastes more refined,” Klaus says, picking off the pineapple bits off and tossing them towards Caroline’s mouth, who catches them deftly - and smugly. He does not tell that he enjoys the look of joy on her face once he’s tossed enough pineapples in there to make her cheeks bulge.
At the other end of the table, Lizzie is revelling in the fact that both Josie and Hope have all but discarded their pineapple pieces onto her awaiting plate.
.
.
“Hey, Klaus?”
Klaus hides a smile and finishes putting the final strokes on his latest canvas. From behind his easel he answers, “Yes, Elizabeth?”
Her eyes narrow as she corrected him pertly, “Liz-zie.”
“Dad.”
“Touché,” Lizzie says, looking a smidge impressed. She doesn’t let it show on her face: she is too much like her mother in that sense. Facial expressions meant you had access to feelings, which made you vulnerable. Klaus wants to laugh, but knows enough about Caroline not to.
“Lizzie,” Klaus concedes instead, and Lizzie relaxes on his couch. She fiddles with a forgotten rag he uses to wipe his counter clean, or as clean as Caroline deems satisfied.
“Mom’s birthday is coming up,” she says.
“Is it now?” He asks, as if he needs a reminder. But, knowing how these Forbes women like to take charge, Klaus just continues painting. “When is it again?”
“Like you don’t know, Dad,” Hope interrupts suddenly, closing the door behind her. Lizzie rolls her eyes at having her there, but she makes space for her step-sister on the couch anyway. “What are we planning? Lizzie is so totally Caroline’s daughter that if we don’t throw something awesome—”
“Extravagant!” Lizzie corrects, wrists twirling.
“Never before witnessed—” and yes, that’s Josie, sidling into the room as well—
“Fire eaters!”
“Doves!”
“Elephants!”
“Girls,” Klaus groans. “Quite enough jibber jabber, I think.”
“What a grump,” Lizzie says, not quite under her breath, but she doesn’t mean anything wicked by it. Hope’s smirking, completely agreeing with Lizzie, for once, and Josie just sends him a sweet look, always the soft one.
“It’s just – it’s your sixteen-year anniversary too, right?” Josie asks, eyes widening, while Hope and Lizzie tilt their head, Wow, is that so?—
—And now that Klaus thinks about it, their entrance had seemed awfully choreographed. No one was talking over each other, that bit had seemed rehearsed, almost to a fault.
Klaus raises an eyebrow. Hope groans. She knows her father well enough to know when the jig is up, but Lizzie is nothing if not persistent. The little siphoner presses further, “Wouldn’t it be so great if you just went somewhere, just the two of you…”
“…Romantic gondola ride…” Josie chimes in.
Despite herself, Hope adds, “Lanterns floating above you?”
“Your mother hates clichés.”
“Yeah, well, tough luck – she’s going to get an anniversary extravaganza or bust,” Lizzie says. “We’ve already booked you two flight tickets, to Rome.”
“Rome isn’t in season.”
“Exactly!” the three girls cry in unison.
“Exactly – what?”
“Who want tourists stinking up the place? Come on, Dad – where’s your game?” Hope snickers.
“I am being accosted by three chipper girls in my art studio, at 11am, the hour in which we’ve all agreed is to be my downtime, not to be disturbed—”
“Yes, we know the whiteboard by heart now,” Josie says, of course talking about the huge, colour-coded whiteboard that hangs on the wall in their family study, signifying the times in which they would have alone time, something Caroline had deemed necessary when they’d become a blended family—
(“Especially,” Caroline adds, sending her girls a withering glare, “if your friends insist on traipsing in and out of the snack bar that has now become our kitchen.”
Kaleb just grins, unaffectedly chewing on a large cookie Caroline had just pulled out of the oven, while Landon had the grace to look embarrassed. Lizzie nudges him. Do not back down, she seems to glare, and plucks the cookie out of his hand.
“But you make the best treats, Mrs Forbes,” Penelope simpers, and – what the hell, Landon thinks, it’s actually working on Caroline, because she offers Penelope the bowl of sweetened whipped cream to top her cookie with.
“How do you do that?” MG hisses, in awe and envy.
Penelope just winks.)
—and had made everyone commit to it.
The girls knew they were breaking a Rule, and look at Klaus worriedly. “Will you tell mom?” Josie pouts.
Klaus sighs. “No, I will not be telling your mother. So. Clearly you want us to leave the country.”
They nod eagerly.
"For some sort of romantic excursion, apparently. Leaving you all here, alone, without chaperone, for a week - perhaps two."
“Yes, glad we’re on the same page, Dad,” Hope nods.
“I’m assuming it’s because you just want the extra peace and quiet to study for your upcoming semester, and not to throw a huge end-of-summer party?” Klaus fixes them all with a weighty stare.
The daughters of the most terrifying Headmistress and powerful Hybrid in like, the world, probably, live up to their legacy. They don’t squirm, they hold his gaze, and they try very hard not to reach for each other’s hands.
“Yes,” they chime together.
Klaus groans, is big enough to know when he’s defeated. He casts aside his paintbrush, seeing as his hour of peace has no chance of being recovered. “Let me see the itinerary.”
“Of course, Dad,” Lizzie beams, reaching for her pocket, and sarcastic or not, it does something to Klaus’ heart.
.
.
Landon of all people, had been tasked to convince Caroline of the holiday.
Lizzie had assigned Landon despite both Hope and Landon protesting, and Josie, well in tune with her sister, tells them to allow it. “She knows what she’s doing,” Josie says sagely.
What Lizzie had hoped would happen – Landon annoying Caroline with enough questions about the upcoming semester because of course he would last minute decide not to go with the script Lizzie had made him memorise the night before, because he feels bad, and he shouldn’t meddle with other people’s family business, so – right! Mrs Forbes, yeah, I’m here about – about class sign up next semester?
Caroline, exasperated at being torn away from her own 11am downtime of a bubble bath sprinkled liberally with oranged salt, puts her hands on her hips. But responsible as always, answers every single one of his stammered questions.
All fifty-nine of them.
Lizzie, of course, had known Landon would flub it.
Hope looks a bit impressed when he reports back to them later.
That night, Caroline drapes her legs over Klaus’ lap as they settle in for daughter-free movie night, exclaiming about how utterly exhausted she is, and even when school’s out she still has to deal with students because their daughters happen to be the most popular girl in school—
“Wonder where they get that from?” Klaus smirks, and Caroline glares.
—and know absolutely nothing of boundaries, treating their warm home like some kind of tree house-club house.
Klaus gathers her into his lap, rakes his fingers through her curls, and fells her grow pliant and relaxed in his arms. His nose in her neck he mumbles, “How about a holiday, love?”
“Mm. Sounds nice,” Caroline says, allowing herself to be pulled into the awaiting lull of his mouth.
Somewhere upstairs, the girls are muffling their victorious giggles in each others shoulders, which of course Klaus hears. Hybrid senses, and all.
He pretends not to, though.