Chapter Text
“If a deer jumpss out, we’re both gonnadie.”
Caroline means to sound scolding, but she just sounds drunk. Which she is. So. Fair enough.
In the driver’s seat beside her, Klaus hasn’t properly watched the road in several minutes. He keeps looking over at her all concerned like she’s about to hurl or about to jump out the window. With the speed they’re tearing down the back roads, she’s leaning towards the former.
“You’re safe, love,” he reassures her far too gently. He’s much easier to deal with when he’s waving a gun around and making threats.
She almost hates the look of genuine concern on his face. He was the one who broke a guy’s arm in the middle of the Mystic Grill. She’s just the one who got drunk with Elena, abandoned by Elena, and groped by a guy that started out cute and ended up way too handsy. They’ve both had a bad night.
This is not the first time she’s been rescued by Klaus.
At first he rescued her from problems he caused, like the first real shootout between the Salvatores and Mikaelsons. That particular conflict between the two crime families of Mystic Falls led to a stray bullet ending up in her shoulder. It seemed like unexpected human decency for the leader of the Mikaelson family to tie a tourniquet and drive her to the hospital. The hospital staff asked way too few questions for Caroline’s taste. She supposed when a Mikaelson came in, they knew better than to ask.
Then he started saving her from problems he’d inadvertently caused, like dirty cops nearly getting her mother fired. They were his dirty cops but she appreciated the gesture when he turned them all in with a neat envelope of evidence addressed to her.
Now he’s apparently just saving her in general. If you could call going forty over the speed limit 'saving'.
“Watch it!” she barks as he swerves sharply to avoid a pothole.
He laughs quietly, eyes glittering in the muted yellow light of the dashboard. She’s never seen anyone who can convey a whole monologue in their eyes like he can. Between the crease in the corners and the upturn of his mouth there’s fondness and delight. Always finding her amusing. No one else ever finds her funny. She’s still not sure if he’s laughing at her.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I only go the one speed.”
“I hope yougedda ticket,” she slurs sourly.
He just keeps smiling that little smile at her, “Not in this town.”
The inside of the car starts to spin. Caroline closes her eyes and rests back against the seat, fighting a bout of nausea. If she were another person she might have blamed Elena for running out on their last night together moment Damon called. She might have blamed the creep who chatted her up at the bar and then tried to get a hand up her skirt the moment she decided to leave. She might have even blamed the blank-faced bartender who poured and poured way past her underage limit.
But she’s Caroline Forbes. She’s better than this.
The car slows to a stop. She manages to peer out the window at her house. Her mother’s car isn’t in the driveway. She’s not sure if she’s glad about that. She could really use a mom tonight.
The breeze is cool against her clammy skin as the passenger door clunks open.
She doesn’t get a mom. Instead she gets,
“As ravishing as you look in my car, I think it’s time for you to get some proper rest.”
Caroline gathers all of her waning strength and tries to swing her legs out. She’s disoriented though and forgets to unbuckle her seat belt so she flops back down on the seat. Her head pounds. Her stomach twists. She is never ever drinking again.
The fresh scent of a familiar cologne fills her nose. For a moment she can feel the heat from his skin. She doesn’t remember closing her eyes but now she doesn’t dare open them, afraid, hoping, that she might feel him against her lips.
With a click of the seat belt, the warmth draws back. She forces herself into alertness. Klaus, the twenty-six year old money launderer, is not kissing her. He is waiting expectantly for her to get out of his car.
Flushing, she clambers upright and snatches her purse from the foot well.
“I’m notta child,” she says defensively.
She takes one step and falls directly sideways.
Before she can yelp, there’s an arm around her shoulders hauling her up. Another one loops below her knees. Their faces are suddenly a hand-span apart. God, he’s gorgeous. God, he’s still looking at her like she’s his favourite show.
God, her vision is getting blurry.
“You’re not a child,” Klaus agrees, “But you have been overserved and clearly can’t make it up the stairs. I presume your room is upstairs.”
Caroline nods and tips her head down to rest on his chest. She doesn’t usually give up so easily. Just another thing to be disappointed in herself about tomorrow. She can beat herself up about it on the drive to her summer internship, far far away from Mystic Falls.
Klaus seems to sense the uncharacteristic meekness because he nudges the car door closed without another word. She gets the vague sense of his henley shirt sleeve rubbing against her bare thighs as they walk. The contact there doesn’t scare her as much as the man in the bar did. Maybe it’s because he’s carried her like this before and she ended up perfectly fine.
He manages to get the keys out of her purse and head up the stairs without direction. The first door at the top is wide open. The room inside is decorated with cheer competition ribbons and posters of pretty water lilies. He doesn’t need any direction to carry her in there either.
As he gently settles her on the bed she says, “I think you just walk around looking for excuses to break people’s arms.”
The words are still a bit muddled from booze.
Klaus looks away with a wry expression.
“You still think I’m nothing more than a bloodthirsty brute, don’t you.”
“No,” Caroline says honestly, “You're a bloodthirsty brute with a really nice car.”
He rewards her with another fond chuckle as he leans over and pulls off her shoes. He reaches for her socks and she tenses. It’s not him, even though it is very weird to see him standing in her room after seeing him in dressed tuxedos at balls and blood spray in back alleys. It’s just this night. She feels very young and very vulnerable after what happened at the bar. Her clothes won’t do much to protect her but they’re something. Thankfully, Klaus just sets the shoes down and turns back to her.
“I could have done worse. But I know how you feel about violence.”
“Only when it's necessary,” Caroline reminds him.
The bed dips as he sits beside her. He tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
“That’s right, love.”
The way that word sounds in his mouth just isn’t fair. He should get to be all low and growley or all English and charming, not both. That gentle voice calling her pet names is just too much for her melting heart. It’s not right to feel this way about someone who’s caused her friends so much pain. Right now, she’s a little too drunk to care. She closes her eyes and nestles into the warm honey feeling of being loved. Her last night before starting her new life. Maybe she should tell him she’s leaving so that he doesn’t assume she’s been kidnapped again and come looking for her.
He ruins it like he just can’t help himself.
“Violence is the only message some people understand. He should have a bullet in his head for what he…” Klaus cuts off, voice gone hard and brittle like he’s so angry he might split down the middle, “But that would be too easy a death for him. I’d make him suffer.”
Caroline doesn’t have the energy to act disturbed by his hairpin change in mood. She knows him. This is what he does. Every interaction with him is an extreme sport. Thrilling, slightly addicting, and far too dangerous for someone as smart as she is to tolerate.
“Klaus, I’m eighteen, alone in my house with a known criminal who’s frankly being a bit scary, and had a very bad night. Can you leave your murder fantasies alone for a minute?”
He inhales to start speaking.
And she knows right away he’s not going to leave it alone. He’s going to start talking about how much he values her, how he’d do anything for her. It won’t help. She’ll still be the girl all alone who got groped in a bar and he’ll still be the maniac that thinks killing people is an acceptable response to anything.
“Goodnight, Klaus,” she mutters and turns to lie on her stomach facing away from him.
There’s a long minute of silence. Caroline’s breathing evens out as unconsciousness draws her under. There was something she was going to tell him, something about leaving. She can’t remember now.
The weight on the bed shifts.
“Goodnight, Caroline.”
She doesn’t hear him leave.