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Against all odds, Caroline is coming to learn that Klaus Mikaelson is actually capable of being…good. They’re one week into their charade and that finely crafted image of him in her brain has begun to crumble. It was on Christmas Eve, when she’d crept downstairs for a glass of water, that she found him carefully placing gifts under the tree. He was startled to see her at the threshold of the living room and with as much embarrassment as Klaus Mikaelson is capable of showing (far too little for her sensibilities), he admitted that he does this every Christmas. All for his brother Henrik. Caroline caught herself slipping in that moment, actually thinking that maybe Klaus was a good person, a person that she liked. It was crazy, a thought she dismissed almost immediately. Having known him for so long, having been subject to his unkindness, she finds it’s a hard pill to swallow.
When he’d come to her originally, had found her in the class she assisted that semester, she laughed at him. The second those words had left his puckered lips, she could barely contain her disbelief. “No way,” she’d told him bluntly, shuffling papers into a neat stack. She’d made it a point to avoid Klaus Mikaelson at all costs since they’d graduated from Mystic Falls High School. Finding out they’d applied to the same college? Not fun. Finding out they’d both been accepted? Super not fun. He’d waved at her during orientation, as smug as ever, but she swiftly turned her back, hoping he’d get the hint.
Of course, the universe had other plans when she’d found herself bumping into him more often than not. It was only when he’d proposed they bury the hatchet and become friends that she abrasively told him to leave. her. alone. With his tail between his legs, he’d relented. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to avoid him after that. She’d declared herself a political science major early on, while Klaus had unsurprisingly chosen fine arts. He always was unfairly skilled in that area, the one area that Caroline couldn’t study her way to the top of. The only encounters they had after that point were passing glances across the campus and Caroline was happy to keep it that way.
And yet, two years into college, there he was, in her immediate vicinity, proposing yet another outrageous endeavour.
“You haven’t even heard the full proposal yet, love,” he called after her, following along as she collected another sheet off the many desks that lined the room. She remained silent and circled the desk at the front. He wasn’t far behind. She shoved the stack of papers into the bottom drawer as instructed by her professor and Klaus had taken his place on the other side of the desk. Naturally, he draped himself over it; it was just another example of him doing whatever he wanted, regardless of how it would affect those around him.
Caroline finally settled her hands atop the desk and leaned in. His brow twitched and his lips curled, all the while his eyes were drifting over her expression. Her eyes had passed over him in return, if only out of petty defiance, and she quietly surmised, “Your father won’t give you your full trust fund because he doesn’t think you’ve matured enough. Pretending to get engaged isn’t exactly how you prove him wrong.” And with that, she turned to face the board behind her, organising the pens into a neat row in the bottom corner.
She sensed his movement, his hands pushing off the desk. His voice echoed, “I can find someone else.”
“Then why don’t you?” she was quick to ask. She spun in place, her tightly curled locks of blonde swinging as she went. She found him leisurely pacing through the rows of desks now. It was a sight that drew a breath of amusement from her.
Klaus shrugged. He came to a stop at the back of the room and began fingering a piece of paper she’d neglected to collect. She frowned at it but his answer was enough to distract her, “It’s more believable if it’s you.”
Her expression cracked at such a claim. She stared at him, slack-jawed, until a scoff of seismic proportions escaped her, “Please!” Stalking down the centre of the classroom, she theorised, “Because we went to high school together and I already know you’re rich, so therefore, I know the real you?”
He met her halfway, his eyes alight as she mocked sympathy. College had aged him nicely; his clipped, sandy hair had grown out enough that she could now reach out and take grasp of the short curls atop his head. Forcing herself back into reality, she snatched the page from his grasp.
Caroline paused to nervously glance down, ensuring the paper hadn’t torn, before she took down the length of the classroom once again. She felt him hot on her heels.
“But even though I know the real you, who, by the way, is a total jerk, your family, being as rich as they are, will totally want to interrogate me because they think I’m gold-digging trash, and you expect me to go through all of that just so you can have…more money?” As expected, when she turned on her heel, he was right there. She managed to keep her balance, though she was all too aware of the hand he’d reached out by instinct. Offering a tight smile, she concluded, “No thanks.”
Klaus assessed her frame, but she immediately slipped back behind the desk, leaving him to sigh, “Caroline, you don’t understand. In their eyes, getting married, although utterly farcical to me, is the ultimate accomplishment; it means you’re ready to settle down, take on true responsibility. If my father sees that I’m willing to take such a huge step, he’ll have no choice but to release my trust fund, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
She’d given him the barest amount of her attention as he spoke, filing away the stray paper with the rest. He waited impatiently for her reply. She took her time but eventually slapped her palms onto the desk and viewed him squarely. “You know what, Klaus? Your family is weird. Normal families don’t do that sort of thing. Most normal people don’t even have trust funds.”
The blank expression on his face was a picture; something told her he already knew just how messed up, how completely insignificant his predicament was in the grand scheme of things, but that he’d reconciled with that fact long ago. He pressed on, “Granted, but that is beside the point. Getting engaged to someone I’ve known for years will be much more believable than someone I’ve known for just a few months. They know you, know that we’re at the same school, they certainly knew your mother well.”
Any amusement she’d held dissipated then. Her body grew stiff and likely sensing as much, he edged closer, his tone softening, “They know that we’ve spent time together.”
Caroline tempted the space between them, curling her fingers on the desk’s surface, and with her eyes trained on his, she replied, “So they know that I hate you then?”
He grimaced. “‘Hate’ is such a strong word, love.”
“That’s why I used it,” she whispered in turn. She stood upright, abandoning the narrowing space they’d crafted, and he followed suit, his hands settling in his pockets. “What's in it for me?”
His lip twitched, almost as if he were impressed. “Two percent.”
Did he really think she’d agree to those terms? She would be spending the entirety of winter break with him, with his stupidly rich and equally out-of-touch family, all the while pretending as though she were in love with him, all for a measly two percent! She guffawed without hesitation, “Two? Seriously? I’m not dumb, Klaus. I’m betting that trust fund of yours is pretty big if I go by the size of your parents’ mansion and new cars Rebekah flaunted every birthday. You can do better than that.”
“Alright. Five percent and I’ll pay for all of your expenses during your stay.”
“How kind, but not enough. Seven,” she’d countered, folding her arms, “and I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you. You can sleep on the floor.”
Play the role of the pretty and polite fiancée? No problem. She hadn’t won the title of Miss Mystic Falls without engaging in some serious niceties over the course of the pageant. But she knew the kind of leverage she had and she was happy to use it to her advantage.
Klaus had gone slack-jawed. “You can’t be serious.”
She grinned. Why he thought he held all of the cards in this situation was almost pathetic. “Fine, we can share a bed, but I’ll need ten percent. Think of it as paying your taxes,” she offered sweetly. His jaw tightened but she was delighted by the clear corner he’d been backed into. Perhaps if he’d been less of an unpleasant asshole throughout high school, she wouldn’t have been his only option. “Do we have a deal?”
Klaus studied her for what felt like an eternity but she was resolved to her conditions and eventually, he agreed.
It’s the day after Christmas and Caroline is certain they’ve played their parts convincingly enough for Klaus’ parents to relinquish his trust fund. The Mikaelson family’s general lack of affection has made it easier, thank god, but she’s peppered some handholding and cheek kisses throughout their stay. Klaus had assured her it was unnecessary, had tensed the first time she’d done it, but Caroline had noted how perceptive his brother Kol could be and was eager to avoid a Hallmark-style ‘prove it’ moment that involved kissing in the middle of a restaurant for a crowd of onlookers.
When Caroline descends the staircase at ten in the morning, she’s bewildered by how quiet the place is. The Mikaelsons aren’t a loud family, not like the average American one, but the sheer number of them naturally creates a level of noise hard to ignore.
She finds Klaus in the kitchen sipping his usual black coffee and scrolling on his phone when she enters. Her first morning there, she learned that he liked to read old art history books in his free time. It reminded her of his artistic inclinations during their high school years; their teacher had praised him to an obnoxious degree and Caroline seethed that her own skills were so lacking.
“Where is everyone?” she asks.
“Skiing upstate,” Klaus mumbles into his mug and takes another sip. He sets his phone down to look up at her. “It’s the family Boxing Day tradition. After all the labour of Christmas, I thought you might prefer to have some quiet. They’ll be back tomorrow.”
Caroline had been educated on the concept of ‘Boxing Day’ the day they’d arrived. Although Elijah, Klaus’ older brother, had explained its historical significance, Kol quickly interjected to summarise, “It’s all just an excuse to spend another day drunk and horizontal.”
“Right, I forgot. Do you usually go with them?”
“Not often, though my mother did ask me whether you would be eager to join them,” Klaus replies. He crooks his head to one side, a finger settling on his chin. “Are you?”
Caroline busies herself with tracing the patterns in the white marble counter. “I’ve…never really been skiing before. I mean, it isn’t something I’ve ever really thought of doing, not that I could afford it.”
She presses her lips shut. No need to start dumping all of her adolescent and, hell, adult woes on him.
Klaus finishes his coffee and slips off the stool. He clears his throat. “I see. If it’s any consolation, my family is rather competitive about it. Rebekah is prone to playing dirty if she thinks you’re better than her.”
“Shocker,” she gasps and they share a quiet smile that lingers. Klaus is the first one to break contact with what Caroline could only classify as an uncharacteristic bashfulness. It’s weirdly nice. In fact, the last few days have been ‘weirdly nice’.
The night they arrived, Caroline had stupidly put her foot in her mouth by asking what the deal was with his father. Mikael was notably cold towards Klaus; he made pointed comments over dinner that left Klaus tense the rest of the evening. Caroline knew she shouldn’t have said anything the moment it left her lips. Klaus bristled at the question and they went to sleep in silence. But when she caught him placing presents under the tree on Christmas Eve and made the obvious ‘Santa Klaus’ joke, that tension appeared to finally ease up.
Sleep that night was different, too, more relaxed. She woke up in the early hours to Klaus burrowing his head into the crook of her neck and, well, sue her, she liked it.
Caroline leans up against the counter and plucks a clementine from an ornate bowl in the centre. Klaus’ mother, Esther, was overly boastful about their mansion and its interior, and just about everything else they owned. So much so that Caroline’s sure she was trying to bait her into some social faux pas. Thank god for pageant training.
Caroline hums away, peeling the clementine as she hears the faucet begin to run. “So, what are we doing today then?”
“Actually,” Klaus begins. “I thought you might like to spend the day with your friends. My family will be gone until tomorrow afternoon and I’m sure you’re sick of having to play pretend.”
She looks over at him. His head is down, preoccupied with the coffee mug he’s rinsing. “What about you?”
Klaus stills briefly and his voice wavers, “I…have some matters to attend to.”
“Oookay…cryptic much.” Caroline narrows her eyes. She could needle him for more but elects to focus on her clementine. They’re at a truce right now and she’d like to keep it that way. She takes a sharp breath and exhales, “Fine. I did say I’d let Katherine know when I had some free time.”
She hears him place the coffee mug aside and move across the room. “You can take one of the cars if you like. They barely get any use otherwise. Just be back by five,” he calls behind him as she pops a clementine segment into her mouth.
She chews. “What’s at five?” There’s no response. “What’s at five?” she repeats, but turns to find herself alone in the kitchen suddenly. “Klaus?”
“And then he just left!” Caroline squeaks with finality. They’ve been sitting in The Grill for half an hour, and she’s unravelled every (and she means every) detail she can think of from the past few days.
Katherine gawks at her across the table. “So you’re telling me you get zero crazy Mikaelson B.S. and a free car for the day?” She leans back in the booth, shoving a fistful of fries into her mouth. “Sounds to me like you have the opposite of a problem, cupcake. What are you complaining about?”
“I’m not complaining,” Caroline grumbles. She folds her arms, watching Katherine chew in the least polite way possible, but she can’t help the commentary that plagues her mind. “I just think it’s weird! His family go on some fancy ski trip and he has ‘matters to attend to’? What could he possibly be doing today?”
Katherine washes down the fries with a gulp of her soda before saying, “Oh, I get it.”
Caroline frowns. “What? What do you get?”
Katherine twists her lips like she’s weighing up the pros and cons of her observation. She fiddles with the straw in her drink. “Seems to me that you have a thing for him. Big time.”
“Kat!”
“Come on, tell me you’re not the least bit disappointed he doesn’t want to spend time with you,” Katherine insists, one brow raised. Caroline snaps her jaw shut and Katherine smiles triumphantly. “You totally want to screw his brains out!”
Caroline squeaks, “Oh my god!” She pinches her temples and stares down the grooves in the table. Despite Katherine’s totally unladylike way of putting it, maybe she does want that. Maybe she wants a lot of things with Klaus. Maybe she’s just curious.
“I’m not hearing a ‘no’,” Katherine sings.
Caroline sighs, sitting up and releasing her forehead from the firm massage she’d begun. “Fine! Maybe…he’s not as bad as I thought he was.”
Katherine smirks. “You mean he’s not just some egotistical, stubborn, and all-around unpleasant asshat looking to get into your pants?” She props her elbows onto the table and leans in to tease, “Even though he definitely would love to.”
Caroline drags her tongue across her teeth. “Exactly.”
Katherine rolls her eyes. “What’s the big deal? Doesn’t it just make fooling his parents all the more easy?”
Her shoulders sink. “I guess, but…”
Of course, Katherine sees no issue with it. In high school, her back-and-forth with Damon Salvatore and his brother Stefan was as constant and as easy for Katherine as deciding what to wear in the morning. Caroline’s judgment on the matter fell on deaf ears until Klaus’ older brother, Elijah, caught her eye, though that never went anywhere. As far as Caroline is aware, at least.
Katherine hums a note of contemplation. “But it makes things complicated, and what if it ends up like last time?” Caroline presses her lips tightly but amusement tugs at Katherine’s. “How precious.”
Caroline draws a breath, her eyes averted. “You’re not helping, Kat.”
Klaus had never been amenable to others, a factor that had gotten them off on the wrong foot all throughout high school. He pushed her buttons, had about as much arrogance as you’d expect from someone with a mansion.
Katherine reaches across the table and takes Caroline’s hand, inspecting the engagement ring adorning her finger. Klaus had presented it to her the day before they arrived and its deep sapphire gemstone left Caroline admittedly bewitched. She knows Katherine could easily question why she continues to wear it when Klaus’ family are nowhere in sight, but there’s a psychic twinkle in Katherine’s eye that suggests she doesn’t have to.
Katherine’s voice turns gentle, though her amusement remains, “I’m sorry, sweetie, but you’re kind of on your own here. He could like you back…or it could just be part of the act. Whether you want to know is your choice.”
Truthfully, Caroline is a little freaked out by the possibility of either scenario.
“When did you get so wise?”
“About five minutes ago, when the rum kicked in,” Katherine murmurs before polishing off the rest of her drink. Caroline squints; she’d been in the restroom when Katherine ordered for them. “What? It’s the holidays.”
Caroline arrives back at the mansion just before five. She’s greeted by the soft sounds of Christmas piano music and a rich smell wafting from the kitchen.
“Klaus?” she calls out as she places her coat on a hook. Even with the rest of his family away, there’s still a meagre amount of space left amongst their lavish coats. She winds through the hallways and continues to call out, “Klaus! Hello?! Kl—”
Caroline’s heels skid to a stop at the kitchen threshold. It’s a sight for sure. Klaus Mikaelson has an apron on and he’s diligently stirring something that smells inviting. Familiar, actually.
Klaus pauses. He offers a welcoming smile that does little to quell her nerves. “Evening, love.”
Caroline opens her mouth but struggles to keep focus as she tells him, “Uh, hey. I was calling you—” She fixates on the spoon in his hand once more. “You’re cooking.”
It’s not that she didn’t think he could—though judging by the guys she’s dated over the last two years, she wouldn’t be surprised if he lived off of pizza rolls and takeout like the rest—but it’s more that she didn’t think he would. For her.
He shrugs and promptly returns to his task. “I hope you don’t mind but food won’t be ready for another thirty minutes if you want to change into something else,” he suggests absently. “We’ll be eating in the drawing room tonight.”
Caroline can only manage an apprehensive nod, watching him momentarily, before she shuffles back out into the hallway. Part of her wants to march right up to him, cause an argument out of pure suspicion, but she knows it would be insane, to say the least.
Caroline retreats upstairs in favour of avoiding that impulsivity and does exactly as Klaus suggested. She ruminates in the shower, scrubbing furiously while pondering the little glances, the ‘weirdly nice’ of it all, if it does mean more, if it could mean more. Where would they go from admitting their feelings? Or perhaps she was imagining things and in that case, where would she go from another humiliation at the hands of Klaus Mikaelson?
Caroline resolves to dive headfirst when she steps back into the bedroom. She halts at the foot of the bed. So lost in thought, she’d made a beeline for the shower, tossing clothes here and there, grabbing a couple of towels, and certainly taking no notice of anything different in the room. But now, she’s struck by the sudden realisation of what’s been laid out before her: a small, but long, velvet box with a white ribbon tying it together.
She swallows any reservations and picks it up. The box itself is elaborate, smooth to the touch, and it jumpstarts her pulse into overdrive. When she finally brings herself to pop it open, the sight is unreal: a diamond bracelet that looks like it’s worth a whole semester at NYU.
The nicest piece of jewellery Caroline had owned before all of this was her mother’s engagement ring. It’s not something she particularly wants to wear, either. Having watched her parents argue relentlessly until her father left one Autumn night, she can’t help but feel the ring is cursed.
Caroline slips into a short, blue, satin slip dress, one that she’d brought as a last-minute decision but felt too risque for Klaus’ family after their first dinner. His eldest brother Finn was puritanical when it came to just about every subject. The four children and a concerningly devoted wife were just the cherry on top.
It bothers her how well the bracelet fits around her wrist, how well it pairs with the dress. It’s as mesmerising as the ring on her finger. She wills herself not to read into it just yet. She runs her fingers over each of the diamonds and finds that ‘not reading into it’ is a totally impossible task, especially since she desperately wants to.
That gentle piano music is still playing when she walks the length of the hallway and her breath catches in her throat the moment she reaches the drawing room.
Klaus is standing there, hands clasped behind his back, wearing a nervous yet warm expression of anticipation. Behind him, the fireplace is burning brightly, covered by the audacious grate that Esther had claimed was a rare piece, like so many other items in their home. Nestled in front of the fireplace, Klaus has set up a coffee table in the centre and an array of cushions on each side. It’s something out of a magazine: ‘bring your living room to life with cosy festivities’. Not reading into it. Nope.
“Dinner is served,” he announces, ushering her into the finely crafted space.
Caroline notices that familiar smell again and on the table, she finds an even more familiar sight.
In the days following his proposal, she and Klaus met up for coffee to strategise. Klaus had given her some tidbits of family history, facts and guidance to help her win his parents over. And she had told him about her own family traditions, the steaks her mother would attempt to cook to make up for Caroline’s father leaving. Bill Forbes had been the cook of the family and Elizabeth, so busy with her work, often left Caroline to make her own meals. Christmas time was always her way of overcompensating for the rest of the year. The recipe was from some housekeeping magazine Elizabeth had picked up from a dentist's waiting room: sirloin steak and a red wine reduction.
Caroline had had complicated feelings about it. She appreciated her mother’s effort but could never shake the pit of resentment that had formed throughout the rest of the year. After her passing, Caroline could only yearn for something like it again, for yearly attempts at bringing normalcy to her life. And here Klaus is, doing his best to recreate the very thing she had lost.
Caroline can barely open her mouth to croak, “You…”
“...Did well, I hope?” Klaus smiles but he’s unsure of himself, doesn’t maintain eye contact long before clearing his throat, redirecting his attention to the food. “I wasn’t exactly sure how you liked it. I know you said your mother usually burnt it, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave it on the stove that long.”
Caroline takes a step closer, shakes her head furiously in the process. “No, it’s perfect.” She pauses and her eyes begin to drift downwards. Lifting her wrist, fingers brushing over the bracelet adorning it, she can’t help but say, “You know, I thought we said no gifts. If this is all just a thank you for playing pretend this week, I don’t—.”
Klaus is swift to reply, “It’s not.” She doesn’t dare to ask what’s begging to leap from the tip of her tongue. Then what is it? But as if to preempt that very question without answering it, Klaus steps closer and, in a hush but firm tone, repeats, “It’s not.”
Caroline wants to pry apart that answer but Klaus insists she sit down to eat. She only slightly regrets the choice of dress when she drops into the structure of cushions he’d formed. The smooth fabric rides up and whilst she’s not against showing some skin, she pulls a blanket over her lap.
Her knife glides through the steak easily, revealing a deep pink centre. She glances up. There’s still a nervousness in Klaus’ expression despite his attempt to observe nonchalantly. It’s an endearing contrast to his otherwise cocky demeanour. She sets her knife and fork down. “Thank you. This…is really good.”
He smiles and proceeds to cut his own steak. “The gentleman at the market promised me it was a premium cut. I’ll admit I was a little doubtful at first,” he tells her with a clearing of his throat.
His continued lack of composure pricks at Caroline throughout their dinner. She briefly considers leaving it be, letting the past be the past, but swallowing her last bite, the words fall from her lips, her curiosity unable to suppress itself, “Why did you leave?”
Klaus’ knife scrapes against the plate. His head whips up. She can sense in his discomfort that he already knows what she means, but presses on, “After the party, when we… Why did you just leave?”
It takes him a moment to recover. She watches intently for any twitch of emotion, the way his lips crack apart, nothing but a choked-out breath to be heard.
Klaus puts his knife and fork down. His eyes dart across her features. She waits. Since the senior year graduation party, she’s waited, wondered anxiously why Klaus Mikaelson ran away, left her half-naked in some guest bedroom of the Lockwood mansion without explanation. They’d never seen eye to eye before that day, had bickered incessantly as lab partners, and riled each other up for the sake of it. After graduation, they’d stumbled upon each other, midnight nearing and alcohol swaying them into a flirtatious back-and-forth, and she’d kissed him. Or he’d kissed her. They’d kissed each other. A lot.
Caroline had been ready. Drunk or not, she was very conscious in that moment that she wanted him, wanted it, was sure by the way he clutched her waist that he wanted it just as much. And then he left her. He left her in that plush bed with the bodice of her dress drooping down her waist, rambling about needing to leave, tripping into his jeans, unable to meet her flickering eyes. The next time she saw him was at freshman orientation. His intention to act as though nothing had happened enraged her.
She’s about to change the subject, more for her own sake than his, when Klaus admits uneasily, “We were drunk,” he brings a knuckle to his brow, “and I had every desire to stay, but when you said it was your first time…I’ll confess I panicked.”
Caroline narrows her eyes. “You were expecting someone with a little more experience?”
She doesn’t forget the absolute fervour of the girls in her gym class when Klaus first moved to Mystic Falls, distinctly remembers one of the cheerleaders bragging about a seven minutes in heaven with him that he really made count.
Klaus sits up, clumsily bumping into the coffee table as he insists, “It was nothing like that, Caroline.”
“Then what was it?”
He looks down, his jaw shifting, gaze perturbed. And then he lifts his eyes to her with a hardened expression. “I didn’t want to ruin it for you. I wanted you to have a first time that was special…with someone you trusted, not some drunken night with someone you hated and would likely regret.” He sighs, “And then when I saw you at orientation, I had hoped that we could talk, that I could explain myself— I realise now I was somewhat…misguided in the way I approached it, but…”
“...I told you to leave me alone,” Caroline concludes for him. He presses his lips together. A sour smile slowly etches across her face in recollection. “Well, for the record, my actual first time sucked anyway.”
Her heart drops at the way his expression twists, at the apology he bites out, “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” she exhales a short, wistful laugh and looks down, “me too.”
Caroline’s gotten used to brushing the whole thing off since then but she doesn’t know how to alleviate the sombre silence that now has hold of them. She doesn’t want to explain how her self-loathing led her to a man who never even respected her, much less liked her, a man who used her to get to someone else when he was done.
Suddenly, Klaus stands. To Caroline’s surprise, he lifts the coffee table between them to the side and makes quick work of clearing away their dishes. She considers offering help but watching him do it with ease, watching him re-shuffle the pillows on the floor and place more blankets down for her comfort is a sight to behold. “I’ll be right back,” he tells her but she can only offer a bewildered nod in return.
Klaus returns a minute later with a tray of skewers, marshmallows, chocolate and crackers. Caroline’s face warms watching him place it all down before them. Another tradition of her mother’s making post-divorce. Caroline gasped when he’d told her he’d never had a s’more. He’d suggested that it wasn’t the sort of thing a family like his would enjoy and she quipped, “A happy one?”
Klaus settles beside her and takes the skewers off the tray. It’s familiar and new all at the same time. Caroline’s transfixed by it all, by Klaus and his meaningful efforts since they started this whole thing. It’s terrifying.
None the wiser, Klaus muses, “As we’ve established, I’ve never made one before but I looked up all of the ingredients, all of the preferred brands to buy, and well…”
Caroline grins. Turning something as simple as s’mores into such a meticulous process, like it’s one of his paintings, feels very Klaus of him. She scoots closer, lifting the skewers from his hand. “Pass me two marshmallows,” she requests and he obliges. Humming as she goes, she pierces the marshmallows and raises them above the fireplace. “It’s not really authentic unless you’re getting your sticks from outside, or building your own campfire, but I’m sure even if you knew that, it wouldn’t exactly vibe with your whole rich kid thing.”
His lip curls. “I did see that, yes, but it was marked as optional, and I didn’t think it was the most sanitary.”
When he glances at her then, she’s sure he’s flirting with her. That dimple of his sinks into his cheek and her stomach flutters. She turns to the task at hand. “See, the trick is to wait until they’re just about to burn…”
Caroline pulls the skewers away from the fireplace, blowing out the lingering flame atop one of the marshmallows. She puts the s’mores together and offers one to him, ignoring the very unignorable fact that their thighs are now touching. His wary acceptance of the s’more makes her laugh and when he dares to try it, she asks, “What do you think?”
Klaus swallows and tips his head to the side. “I think that despite the, uh, mess, I can see the appeal.”
Caroline finds herself looking down, zeroing in on the gooey assembly in her own hand. Another nagging question presents itself. She sets her s’more on the tray and dusts her hands off. “Why are you doing all of this?” she asks. It’s a little bit more accusatory than she intended but she reasons it as necessary when her heart is on the line.
Klaus is bemused at first but sobers when her stare remains expectant. He follows her lead, placing his s’more next to hers. “You think I have an ulterior motive? You really think that low of me?”
“Yes.” It sounds wrong hearing it aloud. But she had to. Part of her needed to hear it, needed to hear how wrong it now sounded after everything. She falters, “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Klaus takes a deep breath. “I suppose I felt that my family’s idea of Christmas was rather…impersonal,” he pauses and Caroline tells herself that now isn’t the time to sarcastically insist that his family’s odd tradition of opening presents one person at a time is totally personal, “and after all you’ve done to help me, I wanted to show my gratitude.”
Caroline lifts her wrist, a weak smile armed as the bracelet glitters before the fire. “And what about this?”
Klaus swallows, his jaw tensing as he does. “That’s…because I fancy you.” He chuckles softly and casts his gaze down. “Painfully so, now that I think about it.”
Caroline’s wrist falls to her side. She abandons whatever lingering doubt or fear in her head, reaches for Klaus with desperation, her hands tugging him by the collar, and kisses him fiercely. She can tell it takes him off guard but her chest thrums at his quick reciprocation, the way he licks into her mouth and groans her name. When they break for air, she strangles out a quiet, “Sorry.”
“Please,” Klaus breathes, tucking a curl behind her ear, “don’t be.” He snakes an arm around her, urges her further into his grasp, and crushes his lips against hers. It nearly winds her, but Caroline eagerly kisses back, the tips of her fingers delving into his short, sandy curls.
As they continue, their kisses become slower, languid, savouring. Klaus’ lips find her cheek, his hand cradling her jaw, and he pecks at the corner of her mouth. He mutters, “Does this mean you no longer hate me?”
Finding themselves lost amongst the pillows, her satin dress now bunched up around her thighs and herself in his lap, Caroline bites her lip. She concedes, “‘Hate’ is such a strong word.”