Chapter Text
December Never Felt So Wrong
(Prompt from an Anon: "The first Chistmas since her mother died, Caroline decides to escape the blue of being home without family and take a trip to NOLA where Klaus eagerly invites her into his home and shows her how the southern city does the holidays. When she's still obviously feeling down, smutty comfort ensues. Could be canon, semi canon, or completely au as needed." Title from 'Winter Song' by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson. Smut.)
She tenses, when the stool next to her is taken. The legs of the stool scrape loudly against the cheap tiles underfoot and everyone in the sparsely populated bar looks over, with varying degrees of interest. Caroline ducks her head, avoiding the curious eyes. She'd wanted to disappear, and had picked this place, outside of The French Quarter, to do so, while she tried to gather her thoughts.
New Orleans might be a party town, but at 11 AM on Christmas Eve the bar Caroline had wandered into was mostly empty. Two guys at the bar, a small group of middle aged women in the corner. A bartender, fussing with some paperwork, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.
And Caroline, who's now nursing a glass of wine at the previously unoccupied side of the bar, and wondering how exactly she'd gotten here.
She'd tried so hard, dug deep and pasted on smiles. Decorated and baked and hunted down the perfect gifts, for everyone on her list. Caroline had always loved Christmas, and she'd thought she could do it, thought she could fake it, until she made it, so to speak. She thought if she went through the motions, that things would just click into place, and she'd feel happy again, if only for a little while.
But everything was different this year. And nothing would ever be the same.
Elena was locked in a coffin somewhere, frozen in time. Bonnie, obsessed with freeing her, and with trying to stop Damon from going off the rails. Stefan had his hands full with that situation, and last she'd heard (via postcard) Tyler was somewhere on the west coast, learning to deal with being a werewolf again. Matt was trying so hard to be normal and Caroline didn't have the heart to mess that up for him.
And, worst of all, her mother was gone. And Caroline missed her.
It was a gnawing ache, and things, both big and little, made it worse, with every passing day. She missed the way her mom made cocoa, just right, on the stove. She missed her house, the decorations she'd grown up with, the secret nooks and crannies where her mother had always stashed Caroline's presents.
But it was all gone.
And as hard as Caroline tried to deny it, she couldn't escape it. She was cornered at the grocery store by her old math teacher, who wanted to know how she was coping. She'd driven by her old house, and the light display was a terrible, tacky, mess that Caroline would never have allowed. She tried to make her grandma's sugar cookies, but they just tasted wrong.
Anger, frustration, sadness, loneliness. It built and it built and it built.
And Caroline hadn't been able to take it.
Yesterday, finishing up wrapping gifts, Christmas carols playing softly in the background, she'd glanced out the window of her apartment, glimpsed perfect, fluffy snow falling over the town.
It had been like a snow globe, come to life, but all Caroline felt was numb.
She'd snapped, grabbed her car keys, and fled. No bag, no phone, she'd barely even paused for shoes.
She'd driven south until the snow stopped, then further, until patches of brown, mucky fields outnumbered the drifts.
She drove until her car was running on fumes, filled it up, and kept going.
Didn't really understand what she was doing, until she passed the sign that said 'Welcome to New Orleans' in the early hours of the morning.
Mentally berated herself for not taking that exit to Florida. She hadn't seen or heard from Klaus in almost a year, he'd kept his promise of time and distance. She wasn't sure if seeing him now, when she was kind of a mess, was a good idea.
But spending Christmas completely alone would be even worse than spending it in the town that no longer felt like home.
The person beside her doesn't say anything, and Caroline's grateful. She's a people person usually. But she's so not in the mood to hear someone else's tale of holiday woe.
A second later she registers the too slow lub-dub of a non-human heart. And then the scent of his skin hits her, familiar but distant, a memory she's tried to let go of.
She should have known Klaus would find her.
Caroline twists on her stool, but he's not looking at her. He's staring at the bartender, an annoyed expression on his face. The woman takes her time, wandering over, asks what she can get him, like it's the biggest imposition she's ever faced.
Klaus orders champagne.
She tries not to smile. "Still not our thing," Caroline tells him dryly.
Klaus grins, when he turns to her, "So you say, love."
They're silent, as they wait for the bottle, and Caroline's fingers tap nervously on the bar top. Klaus dismisses the bartender, and pops the cork himself, pouring two glasses and handing her one, "A toast," he says, tipping his glass towards her, "to Caroline Forbes showing up in my city. And people say that naughtiness is never rewarded this time of year."
Caroline rolls her eyes, fighting harder not to seem amused, "I'm pretty sure I could make an awesome Santa Klaus joke right now."
"I'd rather you didn't," he sniffs disdainfully. "I am older then that silly fairy tale, by several centuries, you know."
She'd never really thought about it before.
Caroline takes a sip, studies him over the rim of her glass, "So Christmas isn't really a thing you do then?"
Klaus shrugs, his eyes never leaving her face. "Perks of a long life, you pick and choose the things you carry with you. And there often wasn't the time to celebrate, in the past."
"So I'm not crashing anything, not taking you away from anyone?"
"Nothing of import, sweetheart. I promise you. But I'm curious, about what brings you here?"
Caroline swallows hard, past the lump that's sprung up in her throat. "My mom died. Cancer."
Klaus' eyes soften, but Caroline notes no surprise in his features. "I'm sorry to hear that. She loved you."
She clears her throat, blinks hard. "Yeah. Things were rough, for a while, after my dad left. But these last few years were really good. And I couldn't face Christmas in Mystic Falls without her. I felt like I was suffocating, you know? I just took off."
It means something, that she'd come here, Caroline knows. Something big. But it's not something that she can handle pondering right now.
Klaus, with his impeccable ability to read her, doesn't push. He slides off of his stool, and digs out his wallet. He throws some cash on the bar, and snatches up the bottle, before offering her his arm, staring at her pointedly until she takes it, "Now, it seems to me that a change of scenery is what you need, love. So how about I make good on my offer, and show you New Orleans?"
She feels lighter, as she hops off the stool, more relaxed then she's been in a long time, when she takes his arm, "I might have a list," Caroline confesses, "of things I want to see, just so you know."
"I'd expect nothing less. But I do wonder when you had time to make this list? I was under the impression this trip was spur of the moment."
He sounds far too knowing, far too smug. Caroline hates that her steps falter, hates the heat she feels creeping up her neck. She tosses her hair back, and stares straight ahead, "It's not a new list," she admits.
She won't admit that it's long. That she'd started it after listening to his voicemail, that she goes back and adds things, when she needs a distraction.
That she's looked into Tulane and Loyola and UNO and idly priced out apartments.
It was just curiosity, Caroline told herself. She'd always wanted to leave small town life behind, always wanted to try her luck in a city. New Orleans was as good as any.
And it's not like she'd done anything about it.
Until now.
"Well, we'll see what things we can cross off, hmm? I reserve the right to veto anything too abhorrently touristy."
Caroline snorts, knocks her elbow into his side, "Don't be a snob, Klaus."
And really, who's he fooling? Caroline's ninety percent certain that anywhere she really wants to go, anything she really wants to do, Klaus will tag along. He maybe won't be happy about it, and he'll likely complain. But he'll be there.
It's comforting, right now. Because there's no one else in her life that she could say the same about, with the same amount of confidence.
Probably why she'd driven all the way here, without consciously allowing herself to decide to do so.
Klaus is in the middle of a speech about how he built this city, ('So it's not snobbery, love, simply experience and impeccable taste…') but Caroline finds herself not paying attention to the words, as he leads her outside, just savoring the sound of his voice, as it weaves around her, inhaling the air – different from Mystic Falls, not as chilled or fresh – and eyeing the new sights with interest.
Klaus offers her the bottle, and Caroline takes a sip, before she hands it back, her hand still snug in the crook of his arm. He pauses, on a corner, waits for him to glance at him in question, "What's first on that list of yours, Caroline?"
"Well," Caroline says slowly, "Gonna have to go with food. I haven't eaten in like sixteen hours so take me to the beignets."
Klaus makes a turns towards the right, and begins walking, "I know just where to go."
"Great! And thanks, Klaus," Caroline says, squeezing his arm, trying to show her gratitude, "for doing this."
Klaus nods, the dimple in his cheek deepening when he smiles, "Not necessary, love. But you're welcome. And I want you to know that you're always welcome."
She knew that, deep down. And she also knew she'd come to the right place.
She's giggling, by the time they cross the threshold of Klaus' front door, and she's not even drunk. The single bottle of champagne had been finished hours ago, and she'd sampled enough Cajun food to be really, really glad that she didn't need to worry about counting calories anymore.
She'd ordered one Hurricane, just to try it, but the rum was potent, so she refused a second. Intoxication wasn't the goal, and if she'd learned anything from the amount of time she'd been forced to endure Damon Salvatore it was that liquor wasn't the best coping mechanism, even if her liver would always heal itself.
Klaus has been telling her stories, not skimping on the embarrassing ones (and oh, the blackmail material she now has on Rebekah!), had coaxed smiles and eventually laughs from Caroline. She's shared her own, and somehow it's less painful, to talk of her parents and Christmas celebrations with distance between her and Mystic Falls. Klaus has done what Caroline thought impossible, completely taken her mind off things. She doesn't feel empty, or lonely or directionless.
He'd dismissed her plans to find a hotel, pointing out that it would be difficult, this time of year ('Unless you'd like to stay in some by the hour hovel, that is'), and that he had plenty of guest bedrooms, especially considering that both Rebekah and Elijah had chosen to live outside the large, gated mansion Klaus occupied.
She'd ribbed him about personal growth, and he'd merely rolled his eyes, affecting a long suffering air. Confessed that he had guards stationed near their homes.
Caroline supposed there was only so much change one could expect from a man who'd spent a thousand years dodging his psycho dad's attempts on his life.
Klaus motions for her to follow him upstairs, flicking on lights as he goes, and leads her to a room on the third floor. She spies a phone on the side table, and lets out a groan. He looks at her, concern flitting across his face, "I need to call Bonnie. Let her know I'm okay."
He nods in understanding, taking a step back, "Ah. I'll leave you to that, then. My room's across the hall. Knock when you're done, and I'll scrounge you up something for you to sleep in."
Caroline offers him a grateful smile, sinking down on the side of the bed. She picks up the phone, as Klaus closes the door behind him, and dials quickly. This is definitely a rip the band aid clean off kind of situation.
Bonnie answers on the third ring, voice wary, "Hello?"
"Hey, Bon," Caroline greets, trying to sound perky. "Merry Christmas!"
Bonnie's not having it, and her reply is scolding, "You scared the crap out of me, Caroline."
Caroline winces, "Yeah. Sorry about that. I should have grabbed my phone."
"I called you six times, left like twenty texts. Then Damon reminded me I was a witch."
She hadn't decided if she was going to be completely honest about where she was, but it sounded like a locator spell had taken the lying option away.
"Oh. Well, New Orleans is really nice, FYI. All sorts of cool witchy stuff. You should totally check it out sometime."
"What are you doing, Caroline?" Bonnie asks. Her tone's both gentle and bewildered, but at least she doesn't sound pissed.
Caroline flops back on the bed, letting out a long huff of air, "Honestly? I have no idea. I couldn't be in Mystic Falls anymore, Bonnie. It was like one of those tiny rooms in movies where the walls close in and crush you. But I needed something… familiar, I guess."
"So… Klaus?" Bonnie asks, skeptically, making a valiant attempt at neutrality that Caroline appreciates. "You went to Klaus? What about Steven? Or one of your Aunts?"
Caroline let out a humorless laugh, "So they can ask me about how I'm dealing with my loss? Or about college, and the future I'm preparing for? The one I'll only get for a couple of years, tops, because my face will always be seventeen? I can't pretend to be okay and pretend to be human at the same time."
Bonnie's silent, for a long time, and Caroline listens to her breathing on the other end, "I don't think I've noticed that you were pretending. And I'm sorry."
Ugh. Caroline had thought she was over crying, but tears well up, once again. "You have a lot on your plate, Bonnie. You don't need to worry about me."
"I do, though. Tell me you're safe?"
"Completely," Caroline assures Bonnie. "Currently lying on the comfiest bed ever."
"Alone?" Bonnie asks, the question teasing and innuendo laden.
Caroline makes a strangled noise, part shocked squeal, part laugh, "Yes, alone. Geez."
"Just thought I'd check," Bonnie replies breezily. "I don't need the details, if that changes, by the way. But I hope you have a good Christmas, Caroline."
"Thank you. Merry Christmas, Bon. Love you."
"Love you too. When will you be back?" Bonnie asks, clearly relieved to steer the conversation away from Klaus.
Caroline hesitates, "I don't know. I didn't plan any of this. A couple of days? Probably."
"Well, I have this number now. If you don't call me, I'll call you. And if you don't answer I might have to come check out the witchy side of NOLA."
Caroline shakes her head, and amused smile crossing her lips at the implied threat there. "Gotcha. I will call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay. Night, Care."
"Goodnight, Bonnie."
Caroline sets the phone back in the cradle, kind of amazed by how well that had gone. She'd expected a lecture, recriminations, a list of every wrong Klaus had ever perpetuated.
It's not like she's forgotten them, but she's got wrongs of her own, steadily piling up. And with only a couple of years of vampirism under her belt. She's afraid to think about what that list will look like if she makes it to a century, let alone a millennium.
But those thoughts are too dark after a good day.
Caroline kicks off her shoes and pads across the room. She lets herself out, crosses the hall and taps lightly on Klaus' door. His, "Come in," is immediate, and when she pokes her head in he's on a couch in a little sitting area, dressed for bed with his bare feet propped up on a coffee table. He tosses a book aside, and waves her in.
She enters slowly, very aware, Bonnie's insinuations ringing in her mind, that she's walking into Klaus' bedroom. She tries not to stare at him, but she's definitely filing this particular version of Klaus away for later contemplation. "I don't think I've ever seen your arms before," she blurts out, eyeing the black tank and sweatpants he's wearing.
Klaus quirks an amused brow as he stands, "Now, love, that's not strictly true. I know you've not forgotten our little interlude in the woods. You saw a lot more than just my arms. I put in a great deal of effort, to ensure it would be memorable. And considering the number of times you came for me I can't see how it wouldn't have been."
Caroline's eyes widen, and her voice gets higher when she sputters, "I just meant… layers. Jackets. Henley's!"
Klaus laughs, as he brushes past her, brushing his arm against hers in a way that has to be on purpose, given the expansive square footage of the room. "Speaking of," he says, picking up a folded pile of clothes, "I'm sure Rebekah has things lying around that would fit you better, but she gets a bit cranky when people touch her things so mine will have to suffice."
Caroline believed that. And she'd rather not get her heart ripped out, for deigning to touch something of Rebekah's. "This is fine, thanks again," she takes the bundle from his hands, preparing to turn around and go back to the guest room, when Klaus hand on her arms stop her, he leans in, brushes a kiss across her cheek, softly inhaling in a way that makes her shiver, before he pulls away, "Goodnight, Caroline," he murmurs, his rough palm gliding down her skin.
And maybe taking this trip on a whim has permanently screwed with her impulse control, but Caroline makes another split second decision. "Oh, screw it," she mutters, dropping the clothes to the floor and pressing her body up against Klaus'.
Today's the best day she's had in months, and she doesn't want it to end just yet.
Her hands land on his shoulders, one sliding into his hair as she presses her mouth to his. Klaus stumbles back a half step, before he pushes forward, meeting her kiss without hesitation, his hands pulling her into him harder.
Caroline scrapes her teeth over his bottom lip, sucks until he opens with a moan, rising to her toes to take the kiss deeper.
She rips his shirt off, because it's only fair. A laugh bubbles out at the affronted expression he makes when he pulls back. Klaus eyes flare, a ring of gold brightening his iris,' and Caroline is soon flat on her back in his bed.
And she'd lied earlier, because this one is even nicer than the one in the guest room.
It's an idle thought, quickly chased away as Klaus' mouth finds her neck, zoning in on the sensitive areas he'd mapped out that day in the woods, until she's got a leg hooked around his hip and her head thrown back in a silent plea for more.
She feels him smile against her skin, and he obliges, his lips drag down the line of her sternum even as his hands push her shirt up. He removes it carefully, and painfully slowly, and Caroline assumes it's payback for the way she'd ripped his.
She arches up, pressing her chest into his, and undoes the clasp on her bra herself, flinging it aside and pulling him down, taking his mouth in a demanding kiss.
Caroline flips them, while he's distracted, though she knows it's only because he'd allowed it. Klaus grabs her hips, and pulls her up higher, sitting up so he can recline against the headboard. He licks his lips, his eyes wandering down her body appreciatively, lingering on her breasts, and her thighs below where her skirt has been hitched up. "So much lovelier than in my memories," he muses, resting a hand on her stomach.
She places hers over top, encourages it to slide up. She wants him to touch more of her, her skin prickling in anticipation. Caroline tips her head back when he cups her breast, thumb rubbing over the nipple. She lets out a whimper, feeling the heat of his mouth on the other, grinding down against his abdomen.
She's not thinking, and it's amazing.
Klaus' free hand grasps her ass, helping her to rock against him, but it's more frustrating than anything. She can't get any real friction where she wants it. Caroline digs her nails into his shoulders, leaning back, "Too many clothes," she gasps, reaching behind her for his waistband.
Klaus smirks up at her, a mischievous light in his eyes. She's on her back again before she can blink, and Klaus has ripped off her underwear and his head is between her thighs, "Not what I meant… oh!"
He doesn't tease her, there's none of the slow, tortuous buildup he'd treated her to that time in the woods. He licks her clit, hooks two fingers inside of her clenching body. It's ridiculously fast, her head thrashing on the pillow as she fists the sheets, her thighs shaking as he works her up higher, little appreciative murmurs about how good she tastes and how gorgeous she looks, spread out on his bed, encouraging the coil of arousal.
She lets go with a cry, her hips arching up against his mouth. She tugs at his hair, still quivering, the only word in her brain is more. More of him, more of this feeling. She pulls harder, when he seems to want to take his sweet time. Klaus lets out a groan, looking up to meet her eyes. Caroline brings her knees up, "Inside me," she demands, her voice hoarse. "Now."
Once again, Klaus flips them. Caroline sits up and shakes her hair out of her face, pinning him with an annoyed look, "You know, I am really getting tired of you interrupting me."
"You'll forgive me, love. I'm sure of it," Klaus rasps. He brings his knees up behind her and tilts her hips, lifting her and positioning her over his cock as he kicks his pants away. "Lean back," he tells her, eyes hot and coaxing. "And play with your nipples for me."
The dirty request sends another stab of want through her and Caroline moans, letting his legs support her weight and bringing her hands up to her breasts. He thrusts up, and pulls her down, sheathing himself inside of her in one delicious movement, and Caroline's eyes slam shut, a gasp leaving her lips.
Caroline rolls her hips, tries to move, but he won't let her. Her eyes crack open, peeved. "Better," Klaus murmurs, in satisfaction. "I want you to look at me, Caroline." One of his hands dips lower, curving over her thigh until his thumb parts her folds, seeking out her clit. He rubs, eyes on her face, on the flutter of her eyelashes.
She doesn't close them, however, holds his gaze, as her skin grows hot to the touch, the muscles in her stomach pulled taut. She's just about to beg, needs him to move, her fingers rolling her nipples roughly in search of something, when Klaus' grip relaxes, and he encourages her to slide back, and let herself fall down. She looks down, to where they're connected, watching him move inside of her, a strangled whimper escaping as she speeds up.
Klaus sits up abruptly, wrapping her legs around his waist, resting his forehead on her shoulder. The noises he makes, low and needy, his hands on her back, frantic, like he can't get enough of her skin, are everything she'd remembered, and more.
It's a heady feeling, to be wanted like that. Intoxicating.
Klaus' hand slips between them, finding the bundle of nerves that will send her reeling. A few circles, one firm pinch and Caroline's shaking against Klaus, his name on her lips as she orgasms, limbs clutching her to him tightly. He follows with a groan, his hips jerking underneath her.
She's still panting, her heartbeat galloping, when Klaus falls back against his pillows, tugging her down with him, a hand burying itself in the hair at the back of her neck.
She thinks about rolling off of him, about retreating to the guestroom. A bed, Klaus' bed, is different than the woods, when they had both known that time was short.
But she finds she doesn't want to leave. She feels good, where she is, almost wants to purr, at the gentle tugging of his fingers in her hair.
And she's not the least bit tired, and from the way Klaus' cock is twitching against her thigh, she doesn't think he is either.
Caroline lifts her head, folds her arm underneath her so she can look at him, take in the soft content expression that she knows he doesn't wear often. "I'm glad I came here," she tells him, and she means it. "I'm almost sorry it took me so long."
Klaus smiles, his fingertips trailing lightly down her spine, tracing the dips reverently, "I said a year, or a century, love. So I can't be upset that it was only a year."
She narrows her eyes at him playfully, "No one likes a know-it-all, Klaus."
"I've lived a millennium. If anyone knows it all, it's me, don't you think?"
Instead of answering she traces the tattoo on his shoulder, dropping her mouth after a moment and doing it again, with her tongue. She feels more than hears the harsh breath in Klaus takes, when she scrapes her teeth over the curve of his neck.
Caroline thinks she'll stay the couple days she mentioned to Bonnie. Maybe a week or two. Until she's stored up enough of this feeling, enough good to face what's left of her life back in Mystic Falls.