wholeworldoutthere | (no subject)

She stares at him, and he didn't refute that she's collateral damage, that she would get into college somehow, that she's okay, that she can do it or she won't just die in the next year because of Elena, or Damon or Stefan, but he just points out that she said something stupid and she realises then that maybe she's just nuts, maybe she's seeing things in him that aren't true or there, and it's just her being hopeful and optimistic and she shakes her head, and she's not looking at him, because it hurts, because he hurt her, and it takes a second before she can talk. "Good to know that out of that, that's what's important. I know what your priorities are, I guess? So, good job." She shrugs off the coat he put on her shoulders a second ago, and she holds it out to him. "Take it. I'm going home."

Edited 2012-06-05 20:43 (UTC)

Home. Another ironic choice of word, and Klaus just looks at his jacket, then up at her. He half expected her to storm off, but not for the reason she just explained, and he is not taking his jacket back.

"Priorities aren't what somebody says, Caroline," he just tells her, because he could argue about this coming from different angles, but this one matters most. All of the humour has gone from his face and his tone, and he's as serious as he ever gets; merciless, even, in his honesty. "They're what somebody does, and they're the reasons why. I have to save Elena, over and over again, because I need her. But I save you because I want to."

Now he takes his jacket back, and throws it on a nearby chair without looking away from Caroline. She'll go if she wants to, and he won't hold her back; he has to believe she'd find her way back to him eventually.

She stares at him, and her mouth quirks into a smile, and she's shaking her head. Because Elena's her best friend, has always been her best friend, but she's number two. And what she says is horrible and she hates herself for asking, but she knows she knows the answer already and she's asking anyway, even though it's not a question. "And if it's between me and Elena, I'm collateral damage."

"Thank you for coming with me today. I appreciated your help." And there's a finality to it, like that's it, that's the end, and he's thinking that she'll find her way to him even as she's thinking that she's going to do everything in her power to avoid him, and she is drunk and doesn't even have her shoes on, but she turns to walk away, her hand catching herself on his doorframe as she sort of is not walking 100% steady, but she'll get home all the same.

Klaus lets her go, because there's nothing else he can do. If she can't see how she matters so much more than Elena, if she expects to be given everything straight away... He's offered her enough, more than he's offered anyone in a very long time, and she's kept turning him down and using his affection against him and his family, until they got trapped here, and suddenly it's not enough for her. So yes, he lets her go, although he does whisper, right before the door slides shut behind her, "I'll see you around, love," like it's a promise or maybe a threat or both rolled into one.

It might take years, but she'll come back to him at some point, whether they're still here or in their world. He knows it.

She hears what he says, because of course she hears it, because she's a vampire and maybe she doesn't hear everything in the known world but she can hear him, and she stops, and turns around, closing her eyes for a minute. And then-

"I forgot my shoes," she says first as she comes back into his room, stopping in front of him, like there's a reason, and she's staring at him. "You were supposed to say that it would be okay, that I won't just be dead, that I can figure out the college thing, and that if I really want it that much I can, I don't know, compel my way in. You're supposed to- unless you think I'm just going to die, and if you think I'm going to die, then why are you bothering, and why do you even want this? Why-" She's drunk - legitly drunk, after that blue thing, and she's not gotten her shoes yet and she's staring at him. "Why be nice? Why send me bracelets and drawings and talk to me about art and be charming if you think I'm just going to die?"

Because she's scared of it, because she's scared of dying and she doesn't expect him to say he'll save her, but that he thinks she'll live out the year, even. "And what is that? What is you saying you'll see me around, because okay, okay, I said you were my boyfriend, even though you're not now, because in eighty years you could be, and- I mean, what we did. I liked it. I like- I like spending time with you like this and I don't want to leave, but then when I'm being all soul-bearing, you just up and say that I called you my boyfriend, when it's so not the point, and like, I get it, you know? I get that Elena's blood is magical or whatever, but you getting to point out that I said some stuff doesn't make what I was talking about - which I have never told anyone, that it's just crap and can be ignored."

She's standing in front of him, and she's spilling her guts and she doesn't even know if he's listening, and she just finishes it with "And I want to kiss you again, because I'm crazy, and I really can't deal with it if you just sort of push me away, so will you?"

She says so much, and there's so much he wants to say back, among which that he doesn't even remember what being a teenager is like, so if she's going to keep expecting the perfect responses from him, this is going to keep happening. Except by the time she gets to wanting to kiss him, it's all that is on his mind as well, maybe not for the same reasons, or maybe so, he doesn't know. But she's beautiful and passionate and anyone else talking like this to him would get the exact opposite reaction from him, but he wants to answer her and it feels like he needs to reinstate some form of physical connection, first.

"So kiss me," he answers, because he's still not going to make the first move, not when she might have changed her mind in the point five second since she said she wanted to, because it's what she does with him.

Her brows knit in a clear really? and she rolls her eyes as she speaks. "God, you make me do everything." But she steps forward, and she leans up now, and she's kissing him - and the kiss isn't angry, it's needy, and she makes a noise against his mouth that sounds way more like his name than it should, but it's needy and wanting and taking, her hands lost in his hair as she kisses him the way she has too, the only way she can and in her head she thinks it'll be the last kiss for a while but of course it won't, because she doesn't feel like stopping so she doesn't pull back again.

His arms go around her the second she steps forward, and he's thankful that she didn't change her mind, so thankful because this is the first step, always. His hands settle on her hips, bringing her close, and he kisses her back with equal gusto, if less desperation. But there's something else, too, he needs those kisses to be a lot less fueled by tipsy irritation and need, so he very purposefully tames them down, murmurs her name against her lips before he kisses her again, a reminder of who each one of them is, before he's kissing her some more, and raising his hands to cup her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks like she's so precious, because she is, no matter what she thinks.

She makes a soft sound against his mouth that's not anger or irritation or anything else besides this, and as he moved on, as the kiss changed she ended up letting her hand slip from his hair to the base of his neck, the other down to his chest as she gives herself into it, the kiss sweet if still passionate, and it's like a dance that he's teaching her the steps to as she knows he's doing this on purpose even if she can't think as to why.

Eventually, he pulls back, even though he's fairly certain that he could literally kiss her like this for hours on end. But now that the kiss has said, now that she's back with him, he has to tell her, "I don't think you're going to die. In fact, I have every intention of making sure that you stay alive, Caroline." It's said in a low murmur that her ears should easily pick up, his tone the very continuation of that kiss as he looks at her, looks at her like he sees her, brushing hair back from her face, fingertips tracing her jaw, all manners of small touches as his other hand covers hers on his chest. "You're not going to die. I'm going to make sure of it."

Her eyes are shiny, and she stares up at him, her eyes searching his, and it's not that she doesn't believe him, really - it's not that she doesn't believe that he'll try, but she's had so many things happen over the last few months, and she's so scared. She's not scared of him, but maybe that's why she had been so angry, so angry about coming in second, to him. It wasn't about him not liking her, or anything like that, but that she's playing a game she can't win by herself, and she feels sort of like nobody's in her corner except him. And it's not a relationship thing, it's not why she's kissing him, but it's just a fact that she doesn't understand why he keeps saving her when they're not friends and they're not dating, but when he kisses her this way, she wonders if she knows.

"Tell me you'd miss me if something happens." She whispers it, and it's not like she has a death wish, but she's afraid, and she doesn't feel like in this second that she ever wants him to let her go, her hand still on his chest, still standing so close to him her dress is against his legs. "Lie, I don't care, I just- Please, tell me?"

"Nothing's going to happen," Klaus answers, because nothing is. If she goes missing like the others on the station, he will dismantle it piece by piece until he finds something, anything to either get to her, or get to their captors. Make them pay. "Nothing," he tells her, "and I'm not going to lie. I don't need to lie. I wouldn't have saved you if I didn't care."

He cares for few people enough, but when he cares, he cares hard. It's not love yet, and to be honest he's not even sure he's capable of love anymore, he's not even sure he ever was, he's not even sure Mikael didn't spoil him for that kind of love, but it's the beginning of something that could be so much more, if they let it grow. Of course he would miss her, but he's not going to, because nothing's going to happen.

She nods, and she can't stop the way her eyes water and he ends up with tears on his fingers. She gives a little self-depreciating laugh, and shakes her head, still not saying anything, and then she looks up at him, shrugging like what're you going to do? "Can we try this again? I'm just- I'm scared. And I don't want to go home, and we can talk, and Klaus-" It's the first time she's said his name to him since she's arrived, and she's staring up at him, and she leans up to kiss him, and it's sweet and oddly innocent and it's Caroline, real, honest, not putting on a sham Caroline, and she's pouring herself into it because she's made a choice about that, too, and this is it.

Klaus feels a wave of warm relief wash through him, and he knows that she's a little drunk, or maybe more than a little, but it still feels so genuine, this kiss, cupping her face with one hand again, the other one wrapping more snugly around hers, and it feels like his heart is beating too strongly for his chest, like it might implode any moment. "Spend the night," he offers, when he pulls back and rests his forehead against hers, opening his eyes to look into hers. "Spend the night, and we can talk, or we can sleep, or we can just lie there and be."

She smiles, and she's feeling shy because she feels like he can see something in her because he's so close. "Yeah," she breathes, even as she slips away from where his forehead presses against hers, her face pressed against his neck instead as she folds herself against him, her hand still on his chest. She's a lot drunk, and she's going to be for a while until she's got a hangover that'd drop an elephant - the blue drink was Romulan Ale, and there's a reason it's an outlawed fictional drink - but right now she's curled in his arms and letting him hold her and it feels good.

"I want to stay," she says, and she presses a kiss against his neck, soft and short, before she sighs. "I don't have pajamas, you're going to have to let me wear yours." Like that's some sort of great trial. She smiles against his throat, and honestly - deep down, she's hoping that she doesn't have another meltdown, because it's tiring and makes her feel like crap, every single time. "And we should dance, because we went to a party and nobody danced, and you should indulge me because I say so." The last sentence is less of a whisper and more of a we should do this, even though she's barefoot and he's just in a t-shirt and pants.

Edited 2012-06-06 02:48 (UTC)

"I don't have any pyjamas," he tells her, with a half-smile, because he doesn't, and why would he? It's always struck him as terribly modern and decadent and him, not wearing any night clothes after so many centuries when he used to. "But I can do something about the dancing," he assures her, and presses a kiss to her ear, since her face is in his neck and it's the closest patch of skin he can get to, before he lets her go and moves, to go grab his communicator from the bed. He throws it at her. "Pick your music, love."

Because that's one thing he doesn't know, what kind of music she even likes, and this is for her, and he takes his shoes and socks off while she picks. He has no intention of stepping on her feet, that's not what it's about. It's about equal footing, really.

She rolls her eyes as she shakes her head, her forehead still against his neck, before he lets her go and it's weirdly disorienting because of the drunk, but she manages, and sits on the edge of his bed, her brows furrowing as she scrolls through, as she thinks, and it takes her a few minutes, until she finds the album name, and that works. She pauses it once she knows it's the right song, and she holds it out, knowing he can grab her hand as well when he wants her on her feet. Because apparently drunk also means she's a little lazy.

Klaus takes the communicator from her, presses play, barely looking at what she chose, and as the sound of a piano - and a fire in the background - start to sound in the room, he pushes the comm louder, and puts it down on the nearby dressed, so it's higher up than if it were on the bed.

Then he comes back to her, amused and surprised by her choice of song, but it works, and he holds out his hand to her. "Dance with me," he requests with a smile, as if it hasn't been the plan all along.

Caroline smiles, and she takes his hand as she pulls herself to her feet, and she sighs. "Why, I never thought you'd ask." And she's smiling, as letting him lead but it's not formal the way it's been before, it's not stiff, it's just her hand in his and her hand on his shoulder and she's actually relaxing from her super-keyed-up-always-stressed-neurotic-control-freak mindset so that she can just stare up into his eyes, speaking only after a minute or two, her voice soft. "If you could have anything- anything, what would it be?"

And her eyes search his like there's some deeper answer there, like she'll find it and then a lot of things that don't right now will make sense again.

Klaus is just glad to look into her eyes as they dance to the piano and the fire, and it's simple and casual, and just the two of them, and there's a hint of a smile on his lips and a happiness in his eyes. This is the best dance they could have, but then she asks her question, and his gaze darkens. Not in anger, but in sorrow.

He doesn't know what he wants most, he doesn't know how much anything is truly anything, but then in the end there is only one answer that would still lead them here, to this moment. "I'd bring Finn back to life."

They haven't talked about it since the day he went and found her to find out more about it, but it is true, right then. He doesn't even think about going back to their world, because right now, in this moment, he is happy.

Her eyes soften, and she lets go of his hand, her arms slipping around his neck as they don't stop moving, but she's hugging him, her lips against his cheek and her eyes closed as she holds him tight for that one second, and she wishes - really, truly wishes that she could bring his brother back for him, that all of this could have stopped, but she just pulls back after those few moments to press a kiss to his lips, and then to step back to where she had been, to take his hand if he's still offering.

Because she doesn't have words, because she knows how it hurts, and it's all she can do, to hold him close and then nod, because she understands. She doesn't ask anything else, because what can she say, and she lets him.... not talk, or talk, or ask, or not ask, just how he chooses.

It's a surprise, an actual surprise, to suddenly be hugged. He doesn't know if he's ever been hugged quite this way before. Part of him tries to feel offended, because he doesn't want her pity, but he knows that it isn't pity, it's compassion, and it's Caroline, so he hushes that part of him, and gets over his surprise to hug her back, like it isn't a completely foreign thing to him, being hugged so genuinely. A few seconds more, and he turns his head slightly so that he's breathing against her neck, smelling the smell that is just her because there's no perfume for her to put on, here, and he kisses her neck softly, thankfully, because he can't put any of it into words, or he won't.

Then she pulls back and kisses him, and nods, and he nods back, because he knows that she knows, her father, his brother, and they go back to dancing, and he still has no words to say.

Caroline has no idea how long they swayed and turned and were just there with each other, but neither of them speak until the music runs out and she slips her arms back around his neck. She stands in his arms, just breathing for as long as she can, as long as she can without it feeling weird, and she pulls back, her voice low and quiet. "I'm just going to grab one of your shirts, okay?" And she pulls away to tuck herself in the bathroom so she can change, and it's better than the last time because she's not sobbing, she's not covered in blood, and she's not hiding a secret from him.

She leaves her clothes in a puddle in the corner of the bathroom because she doesn't really care this second, and she takes out the hairpins and leaves them on the sink. When she comes back, he's in a t-shirt and boxers, and she's not surprised, because he's the least come-onny guy that she knows, and she still slips into his bed like she sort of belongs, and when it's dark and he can see sort of but not a lot, she feels the dip of the bed and she reaches to brush the hair out of his face. "Can I kiss you again without it being a totally weird come-on?" Because- because she wants to be close, she wants to cuddle and kiss him but he's not acting like he wants-her wants-her, and she doesn't know if that's okay but it seems like it might be. Unless he actually wants her, and she doesn't know how she feels about that. But just a kiss... that, that was doable.

"I don't see how it could be a weird come-on unless you wanted it to be," he points out, and his eyes have accommodated enough to the darkness by then that he can make her out fairly well, reaching out to push her hair back, fingers lost in the thick of it as he closes the distance between them and kisses. Of course he wants her, but they have time, and he's in no hurry. He doesn't want to rush this, and he's glad for this, for just a kiss, for the way it made his heart tighten in the best of ways, and while they kiss he pulls her closer, and into his arms, because if she's spending the night she's not getting out of that much if he can help it.

She laughs and it's breathy as finally he kisses her first and she sort of slides into him, and it starts sweet, it does, and that sort of low-burning fire thing that they've had going since they'd stopped being pissed at one another, but it changes. She changes it, making a low noise in her throat, and she's kissing him with promise, with more heat, and she can't really stop the way her leg slides up the outside of his, her bare foot against his calf.

Her leg slips higher, and she's not really thinking with her real brain, she's sort of thinking with her wants to get laid brain, because her real brain knows that this is probably not the best plan even though all she wants is for him to touch her.