[ it's something he's attuned to; caroline. has been nearly since the day he saw her, even before when he'd done all his research on mystic falls and its key occupants.
his eyes trail her as she passes him. he notices: the haphazard wrinkle of her clothes, the mess of her hair, the smell of drying sweat. he blinks rapidly and lets the hide go to follow her inside, stays behind her as she takes it all in.
there's a sardonic tone to his voice; he agrees. ] Clearly something had to be done.
[ he's right to think there's something off. she doesn't walk with the usual confidence she has around him, she doesn't command the room. no, she probably seems a bit small and definitely a lot disheveled, which is rare for caroline forbes.]
These huts don't exactly have a shabby chic thing going on for them. [ she tries to joke but it feels flat on her tongue, her eyes glancing back at him, her smile small and false.
what is she doing here?]
Water. Yes, that would be great. [ and something to do with her hands.]
[ what is she doing here? happens to be the question klaus is asking himself. he doesn't bother to muster up a smile at her weak joke, too occupied with the falsity of her tone and the exhaustion that exudes from her.
he could ask, simply, but instead passes her by to open a rustic cabinet and take out an apo bol. he does the honors of opening it for her before extending her the fruit. ] I only have the one chair. [ which is a super sad indication of his life rn ok. it's the one by his easel, although it's a ways off and he hadn't been sitting in it. ] Feel free to sit there or on the bed.
[ she murmurs her thanks as he hands her the apo bol, holding it between her palms for a moment before she glances towards the bed and then the chair. yeah, the chair is her best bet, she's not having some weird repeat of what's happened today and before with klaus.]
I better... [ she nods towards the chair, probably sounding a bit exhausted as he sensed her to be. She moves to sit down on the chair, glancing at what he'd been working on.] I see you're still amazing at the art thing.
[ that she chooses the chair over the bed doesn't escape his notice. he looks down and away in boyish sort of pleasure and uncertainty as she turns away to sit, and manages a small smile at her compliment. (he's a bit of a weak spot for them, and for her.) ] Ah, well. I've been enlisted to help document our surroundings. [ he raises his eyes to her and his gaze lingers; his smile falters.
this is a klaus struggling to reconcile and express his curiosity and innate suspicion and concern. ]
Enlisted? By who? [ she moves to sit in the chair, taking a sip of the apo bol before she looks at him, waiting for an answer, hoping to avoid her reasons for being here.]
A friend. [ it's an casual answer, accompanied with a fond, sly smile; he's not so eager to part with velma's identity for reasons, even though she makes no effort to keep a low-key about her projects. (he's still uncertain of how loyal the engineer could be, and maybe, just maybe, he would like a friend to himself, however useful and convenient she might be. maybe testing the waters for a sign of jealousy might have something to do with the mystery as well.) ] She's a clever girl, quite well-intentioned.
[ if he's looking for any sign of jealousy from her, he will get it in the form of her lips drawing into a thin line. it's brief but it happens before she takes a sip of water, glancing back at the artwork.] Sounds like something Velma would be doing. [ caroline wasn't a big fan of the girl since velma sort of insulted her. ] Do you know her?
It's proven to be a suitably productive distraction. [ there's a dark, pained edge in his voice, in the twist of his mouth. it's been a distraction from their circumstances. from home. from learning of his daughter's fate and his own part in her endangerment. from every waking moment he's been kept from her. (it's not been suitably distracting in the least, not that and all his combined distractions put together.)
his gaze softens, darkens. ] A distraction quite like your visit here, I suspect.
[ she hates you, klaus. for calling her out, for knowing the obvious. and yet, she notices the twist of his mouth and wonders if that's all about her. sure, she'd been avoiding him but she hadn't all out ignored him or anything like that.]
I'm avoiding going back to my hut, if you want the truth.
[ she may hate him for the truth, but it doesn't change anything. ] I gathered as much. [ there's another twist to his smile; it's sardonic although lacks bite. she did tell him she didn't want to go back to her own hut.
the flippancy of the reply fades; he continues on sincerely, pushing off of the pillar he was leaning against. ] You can stay here as long as you like, Caroline. [ he means it and keenly. if she's in need of a sanctuary, this is hers, as much as it's been his.
he hesitates, vulnerable and unsure. ] And if you want to share your troubles... I could listen.
[ she already knew he'd say something like that. she knows him well enough to know that if she asked, he'd give her the whole hut. but she's not going to ask that. just an hour, an hour to breathe and clear her thoughts before she has to go tell her best friend.]
You really don't want to know. [ it'd only anger him. maybe. or maybe amuse him. she's not sure. his reactions can be unpredictable.]
[ it's unlikely he'd find anything amusing about the thought of damon salvatore using his considerable month-induced charms to snake his way under caroline's dress. translation: anger it would be.
(he would give her the entire hut, if she wanted it.)
her reply has him taking in a breath, nearly shifting on his feet. she's upset, and at one time he'd want to soothe or injure her for his own purposes.
[ she takes in her own breath, her eyes closing for a moment as her fingers play with the apo bol a bit. she doesn't know what to say or how to say it. he'd be the first she'd admit it to. and maybe it'd be easier...]
[ he's quiet. she barely needs to explain past that. he blinks and his lips part; he works past his immediate empathy and indignation, the sickened possessiveness and impulsive urge to protect her.
(he remembers rebekah telling him. explaining it. how the months worked, the aphrodisiacs; caroline could be referring to any one of these things, known or unknown, and it all means one thing. she's been subjected. it rouses in him the same reaction it did that first day. they shouldn't be here. she shouldn't be here.) ]
You can tell me. [ it's meant to reassure her, to comfort her.
and a part of him needs to know. to know a name. ]
[ she feels a prickling of fear crawl up her spine at his words even if he says it in a comforting voice. a part of her worries what would happen if she were tell him. her fingers curl a little more before she shakes her head, lips pressing together for a moment.
[ perhaps it is just too much for her. perhaps she doesn't trust him. (she's right to be afraid. if it were some faceless, likewise affected party as well, maybe his rage wouldn't be quite as focused or potent knowing it was damon, taking advantage.)
he swallows the rejection, the dismissal, looks down. he itches to comfort her; his reassurances weren't a manipulation or a veil. it takes him a moment, but he approaches her, his hand slowly reaching to cover her whitened fingers. he bends at the knee in front of her, his eyes seeking her gaze. ] Whatever was done to you, you deserve better.
[ she probably looks a bit surprised when he kneels in front of her, touching her hand. her eyes lift up to meet with his, searching for sincerity in his eyes before she remembers that she doesn't want it (or shouldn't want it).]
I did it to myself, [ she says it glumly, her eyes leaving his face.] I wanted it. [ there's a pause where she shakes her head.] Or at least, this place made me think I did.
[ she'd find sincerity, clear as day. she deserves better than this, than this place, than the anguish she's feeling. he believes it with every fibre of his being. yet her shame is still telling, and he tries to temper the wrathful stab of envy and pain he feels when she says she wanted it, when it's caused her this wretchedness, although he is soothed by her next confession.
he understands. he may be without shame, without her moral scruples, but he's acted on impulse and desire, and he knows what it's like to have your will bent and broken. still it's not without a swallow of pride that he replies. ] Whatever wretchedness you feel is forgivable. Understandable. I promise you, Caroline; you are no less for indulging an indiscretion. [ that doesn't change how he'd like to snap whoever's neck is responsible, but still. ]
That's easy for you to say, [ she says without thinking, a short laugh following before her expression softens. her eyes lower for a second before she looks at him, her voice soft.] I'm sorry. [ god, if anyone knew she was apologizing to him or thinking about the intimacy they shared, letting it make her view of him turn a bit more tender.]
Thank you. I just feel... like crap. [ which is far less eloquent than anything he'd just said to her. she feels more shame, although whether it's for being hurtful towards him or because she fucked damon salvatore, she's not really sure.] I don't indulge, Klaus. I can't. I'm the one who has to have it together. [ because stefan was broken sometimes and damon fucked everything up, and elena's time as a vampire had not been great either. caroline had to be the perfect one, the one who couldn't make the mistakes.]
Not that I wanted this. It was just this place, this stupid month. [ it's a slip she doesn't mean to have, although he may or may not know who has a birthday this month. and still it leaves elena and damon to choose between.]
[ she has the unfortunate power to do this: to hurt him in a way that stops and clenches whatever heart he has embedded in his chest. something dark passes over the vulnerability in his eyes, but she doesn't give his pain time to become wrath. she has the unfortunate power to do this too: to look at him and complicate what he should do. (he shouldn't allow her get away with injuring him, underestimating and pegging him all at once, shouldn't stand for it time and time again.) she has the power to surprise him, to render his typically stoic or cruel expression human.
his lashes flutter at the apology, at the implication, and he watches her as she thanks him. he can let this go; her denial, for now. (he's much too alarmingly, vulnerably focused on her regret.)
he hand slides from hers as his jaw works and his eyes drop. the back of his knuckles skim her thigh. (it's a touch he steals.) instead he braces his hands instead at either side of her knees.
despite himself, he understands the drive, the paranoia at keeping it together. (and he's nearly failed his daughter at it.) it's not what he wants to hear, that she could know a fraction a pressure, although in truth it's no revelation. she's always been driven: at being worthy, at being lively and bright.
it's only after she mentions the month that his gaze returns to her; it is a slip, and it's one he notes and files away.
he could console her, tell her there's no point in blaming herself for what she has no control over. (it would hit close to home.) ] I want to show you something.
[ she blinks at him as his hands hover closely to touching her, resting on either side of her knees, her eyes lifting to meet with his, seeing the way his jaw is taut for just a moment before. she blinks, too, at how he doesn't address anything she'd said, not even the glib insult beyond a brief darkening of his features.
he just tells her he wants to show her something and she finds herself, curious, finds herself asking--] What?
[ he starts to stand, his eyes on the floor. ] Well clearly any reassurances I'd offer you'd turn back on me. [ there's his address of her glib statement; after all, he can't help the retort. he's not sure if he means it as a chastising retaliation or a cruel joke at his expense. perhaps both. she has stung him, and while his reply has a bite to it, it's heavier with swallowed pain.
he lifts his gaze to her and softens. (the truth is he has no desire to quarrel with her and he knows it's not only because these words are coming from him. she's set in her ways, in her thinking, in her shame.) he offers her his hand. ] Let me show you something that might comfort you in my stead.
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his eyes trail her as she passes him. he notices: the haphazard wrinkle of her clothes, the mess of her hair, the smell of drying sweat. he blinks rapidly and lets the hide go to follow her inside, stays behind her as she takes it all in.
there's a sardonic tone to his voice; he agrees. ] Clearly something had to be done.
I have water, if you want.
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These huts don't exactly have a shabby chic thing going on for them. [ she tries to joke but it feels flat on her tongue, her eyes glancing back at him, her smile small and false.
what is she doing here?]
Water. Yes, that would be great. [ and something to do with her hands.]
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he could ask, simply, but instead passes her by to open a rustic cabinet and take out an apo bol. he does the honors of opening it for her before extending her the fruit. ] I only have the one chair. [ which is a super sad indication of his life rn ok. it's the one by his easel, although it's a ways off and he hadn't been sitting in it. ] Feel free to sit there or on the bed.
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I better... [ she nods towards the chair, probably sounding a bit exhausted as he sensed her to be. She moves to sit down on the chair, glancing at what he'd been working on.] I see you're still amazing at the art thing.
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this is a klaus struggling to reconcile and express his curiosity and innate suspicion and concern. ]
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[ he'll allow her the avoidance. for now. ]
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his gaze softens, darkens. ] A distraction quite like your visit here, I suspect.
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I'm avoiding going back to my hut, if you want the truth.
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the flippancy of the reply fades; he continues on sincerely, pushing off of the pillar he was leaning against. ] You can stay here as long as you like, Caroline. [ he means it and keenly. if she's in need of a sanctuary, this is hers, as much as it's been his.
he hesitates, vulnerable and unsure. ] And if you want to share your troubles... I could listen.
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You really don't want to know. [ it'd only anger him. maybe. or maybe amuse him. she's not sure. his reactions can be unpredictable.]
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(he would give her the entire hut, if she wanted it.)
her reply has him taking in a breath, nearly shifting on his feet. she's upset, and at one time he'd want to soothe or injure her for his own purposes.
he does neither. ] I wouldn't offer if I didn't.
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I did something... I was affected by this place.
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(he remembers rebekah telling him. explaining it. how the months worked, the aphrodisiacs; caroline could be referring to any one of these things, known or unknown, and it all means one thing. she's been subjected. it rouses in him the same reaction it did that first day. they shouldn't be here. she shouldn't be here.) ]
You can tell me. [ it's meant to reassure her, to comfort her.
and a part of him needs to know. to know a name. ]
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this was a bad idea. ]
I'm fine. It's fine.
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he swallows the rejection, the dismissal, looks down. he itches to comfort her; his reassurances weren't a manipulation or a veil. it takes him a moment, but he approaches her, his hand slowly reaching to cover her whitened fingers. he bends at the knee in front of her, his eyes seeking her gaze. ] Whatever was done to you, you deserve better.
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I did it to myself, [ she says it glumly, her eyes leaving his face.] I wanted it. [ there's a pause where she shakes her head.] Or at least, this place made me think I did.
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he understands. he may be without shame, without her moral scruples, but he's acted on impulse and desire, and he knows what it's like to have your will bent and broken. still it's not without a swallow of pride that he replies. ] Whatever wretchedness you feel is forgivable. Understandable. I promise you, Caroline; you are no less for indulging an indiscretion. [ that doesn't change how he'd like to snap whoever's neck is responsible, but still. ]
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Thank you. I just feel... like crap. [ which is far less eloquent than anything he'd just said to her. she feels more shame, although whether it's for being hurtful towards him or because she fucked damon salvatore, she's not really sure.] I don't indulge, Klaus. I can't. I'm the one who has to have it together. [ because stefan was broken sometimes and damon fucked everything up, and elena's time as a vampire had not been great either. caroline had to be the perfect one, the one who couldn't make the mistakes.]
Not that I wanted this. It was just this place, this stupid month. [ it's a slip she doesn't mean to have, although he may or may not know who has a birthday this month. and still it leaves elena and damon to choose between.]
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his lashes flutter at the apology, at the implication, and he watches her as she thanks him. he can let this go; her denial, for now. (he's much too alarmingly, vulnerably focused on her regret.)
he hand slides from hers as his jaw works and his eyes drop. the back of his knuckles skim her thigh. (it's a touch he steals.) instead he braces his hands instead at either side of her knees.
despite himself, he understands the drive, the paranoia at keeping it together. (and he's nearly failed his daughter at it.) it's not what he wants to hear, that she could know a fraction a pressure, although in truth it's no revelation. she's always been driven: at being worthy, at being lively and bright.
it's only after she mentions the month that his gaze returns to her; it is a slip, and it's one he notes and files away.
he could console her, tell her there's no point in blaming herself for what she has no control over. (it would hit close to home.) ] I want to show you something.
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he just tells her he wants to show her something and she finds herself, curious, finds herself asking--] What?
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he lifts his gaze to her and softens. (the truth is he has no desire to quarrel with her and he knows it's not only because these words are coming from him. she's set in her ways, in her thinking, in her shame.) he offers her his hand. ] Let me show you something that might comfort you in my stead.
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HAD TO DO IT
MUFFLED LAUGHTER
romantic comedy
imagines klaus/caroline how to lose a guy in 10 days au
how to get rid of an original
i'd pay good money
me too
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