The elevator doors slid open.

Caroline went silent and Klaus smirked.

It was the only moment since she'd climbed into his limo at the Waldorfs' that she'd stopped talking.

Diligently he'd listened to her talk about the tea Blair had invited her over for tomorrow, what she should wear, her excitement regarding returning to the Waldorfs', and pondering what they would talk about.

Klaus hadn't minded the topics of conversation so much as the reason for them.

"Nervous, love?"

She'd been drawing a breath, having caught sight of the place, but after a second of hesitation she turned to him with a glare.

"Why would I be nervous?"

He held out an arm, gesturing for her to lead the way, and he formed his reply as she stepped out of the elevator.

"To be staying here, perhaps?" he proffered, watching even the back of her head closely.

She was scanning the loft, he could tell, before she turned back to him and scoffed, which made him smile.

"I've been in fancy apartments before, Klaus."

Smirking, he stepped closer.

"I meant with me."

For once she lost her steady stream of quick defences, her lips parting as a flustered breath left them.

Then she regained her composure, rolling her eyes – another reaction of Caroline's he found himself incredibly fond of.

"You don't make me nervous."

He smiled. He'd learned to read when she was lying. It was clear that he did, in fact, make her nervous but he still wanted to hear her admit to it.

He took a step closer then another. She glared at him.

"When's my stuff getting here?"

Klaus hesitated. The problem with playing this particular game with Caroline was that she wasn't the only one affected.

And up close the strangest of things began to catch his attention, like the length of her eyelashes and the way they fluttered when she looked at him. Or the particular curve of her lips; the deep Cupid's bow. He'd never kissed her in his own body before and the thought overwhelmed him at times, to the point where sometimes he couldn't think of anything but pressing her to him and –

"Klaus, you're staring," she informed him.

He stepped back, noting the strange way she was looking at him.

"My stuff?" she prompted.

Drawing a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his neck, chagrined.

"Yes, it should be arriving soon."

"Ok," she folded her arms. "Where's my room?"

"This way," he gestured.

She went ahead and he followed behind, mentally chastising himself for allowing himself to have lost focus like that again. It was a constant battle, with her, to remain present and fully conscious of his faculties. He was uncomfortably physically attracted to her and too often it ran away with him.

"This is my room," he said, to which she shot him a look over her shoulder. "And this is yours."

He pushed the door open for her, not allowing himself to become lost in her scent as he leaned past her.

She met his eyes, taking a little breath, and he let her stare for a second before drawing back.

Caroline hesitated for a quick moment then stepped inside, and he was satisfied to note her little 'Wow'.

When he'd become aware of her presence in New York he'd immediately thought of this property as one she would approve of and be comfortable in. Amidst arranging for his own flight here he'd had this bedroom done up for her appropriately.

"I'm assuming you like it?" he asked for good measure.

Her expression had softened when she turned to him.

"Yeah."

Neither of them said anything, him simply lost in this rare moment when her eyes weren't burning with ire and yet entrancing all the same.

Despite his own invitation being the reason for it, her presence here and now was taking him off guard. He hadn't expected her to agree to staying with him so easily. He'd thought the convincing stage alone would take days, if not weeks.

"I'm glad."

Clearing her throat, she dragged her eyes away from him.

"There's a lock on the door, right?"

He chuckled. "Just what is it you're implying, love?"

"That I wouldn't put anything past you."

She did that. Any moment with the least bit of intimacy needed to be covered with hostility, immediately. And while he more than enjoyed the banter this created, it also made him wonder if she would ever stop; if she would ever be comfortable with intimacy with him.

"Will you be joining me for dinner tonight?"

Her living here with him equalled more time spent together – at least, that was the plan.

"I have plans," she tossed her hair.

He was about to say something when he heard his workers come in through the elevator and he sighed, stepping aside.

He stayed, under the guise of making sure everything went smoothly, to watch her delight at her luggage arriving; then at all the storage options available to her, specifically the rotating shoe racks and the lightbulbs on her dressing table mirror.

Then he retreated to his own room to listen to her unpack.

Blair wrote a note on the sketch board then sighed.

She'd gone through what felt like hundreds of the designs for her next line, leaving scathing remarks on every single one of them with full knowledge that she was being far harsher than was absolutely needed.

She was in a foul mood. Even Dorota had become terrified to come in and check on her, resorting to only appearing if she was carrying macaroons in order to decrease her chances of getting snapped at.

Blair almost felt bad for everyone she was taking her mood out on – almost. It was hard to really feel bad when she knew the exact cause of her bad mood and thus was too busy feeling sorry for herself.

She wanted Chuck.

Sex, yes – definitely. But she also wanted him here with her. She wanted to ask him what he thought of the designs and then playfully shoot down his opinions. She wanted his arms around her and his voice in her ear.

Pushing all the sketches aside, she reached for her phone.

He answered on the first ring and she smiled at getting to hear his voice.

"Hi."

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately.

She smiled, settling down on her bed and pulling some blankets over her.

"Nothing."

"Blair," he admonished.

She ignored him. "What are you doing?"

He sighed heavily. "Working. Or trying to, at least."

"What's wrong?"

There was a pause.

"Would you believe me if I said nothing?"

She smiled.

"I'm just missing you."

The whole thing with Chuck wasn't a case of wanting him because she couldn't have him, a feeling she was familiar with.

She wanted him because she could have him. She'd agreed to the deal they'd made in Monaco – that, effectively, they would stay together but remain chaste. But at the time she'd only thought about how there wasn't anyone else she wanted, so it wasn't as if being semi-single and semi-committed would be an issue. She was through playing games: Chuck was the only man she wanted to be with.

But what she hadn't considered was how difficult it would be to have Chuck while simultaneously not having him.

Chuck sighed. "Same."

"Really?"

"I always miss you, Blair."

Her heart warmed. As much as she knew that he was in this for the long haul and that there was no one else for him either, it still couldn't help bothering her that he was so good at resisting all her physical advances when she felt like she was dying without him.

Most of the time the ring hanging from the chain around her neck assured her, but for the rest of the time she needed to hear it from him.

She settled further down into her pillow.

"I've become the world's most depressed workaholic," she joked.

He laughed. "I know how you feel. Combined with the lack of results I'm getting, I feel as if I'm about to explode with frustration."

She smirked. "I won't say something dirty, but I'm thinking it."

He laughed again and she smiled. Then her heart started to patter as a thought occurred to her.

"Maybe you could come over for a while."

He drew a sharp breath.

"Blair…"

"We can have tea or something, that's it."

He exhaled slowly. "You're going to be the death of me," he informed.

"And not having you is going to be the death of me," she countered.

On his end, Chuck smirked. Everything Blair was feeling he felt doubly so, and his eyes could only drift closed when she spoke to him, wishing that he could be there with her.

"You're too distracting, Blair," he lamented.

"Should I let you go; get back to your work?"

"No," he shook his head, putting his feet up. "It's no use. Even when I'm working I'm still thinking about you."

She let out a heavy breath. "I know what you mean. On the last dress I looked at I almost wrote 'More Chuck' instead of 'More sparkle'."

They both laughed.

"No offence, but we need to take your dad down as in yesterday."

He smiled. "I can't disagree."

She let out a long heavy sigh and he repressed the urge to do the same.

"Come on, tell me about your day."

"Well," she started, "we have some new Upper East Siders."

Caroline stuck her tongue out in concentration as she applied a second coat of glittery nail polish to her toe.

Her head lifted when there was a knock on her door.

"Come in!"

Klaus stepped in with a little frown.

"I thought you were leaving for dinner."

Oh, crap. She'd completely forgotten about that lie.

Caroline had spent forever unpacking, exploring all the features of her room and discovering various extras, like the assortment of high end makeup and nail polishes she'd found in the dressing table. And yeah, she may have gotten sort of side-tracked by the latter.

"Um, I changed my mind," she lied. "And I'm not really hungry." He folded his arms and her eyes narrowed. "What are we doing for blood here?"

"There's a section in the fridge with as much of the bagged stuff as you'd like, sweetheart. Would you like one?"

"No, it's ok," she waved him off, "I'll get some later."

"So you do in fact plan on leaving your bedroom?" he smirked.

She glared. "I've been unpacking." Her cheeks pinked when she realised what she was busy doing. "And, um, painting my nails."

Klaus smiled, approaching the bed.

"You found the things, then?"

"Yeah, and who knew you knew how to pick out the perfect contouring kit?" she teased.

He chuckled, drawing forward to sit on the foot of her bed.

"I believe we still have a conversation to finish."

She raised a brow. "We do?"

"Your uneasiness with living here."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "Klaus, can you just let it go? Seriously."

He watched her for a long moment before shrugging.

"I just want you to be comfortable here, Caroline."

She wanted to point out that she wasn't planning on staying all that long, especially now that he was here, but instead she decided to go with the version of the truth that didn't beat around any bush.

He'd asked for it.

"Look," she sighed, putting down the nail polish, "yes, fine, I'm nervous. I'm nervous about this whole situation because as much as I've denied it, yes, we do have… something. Some weird chemistry that I'm not ok with, by the way, and you've been really… clear about your feelings and intentions so here are mine: I admit that I'm physically attracted to you, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna act on it. Just because things were ok between us at graduation doesn't mean that everything you did to my friends is just gonna go away." She drew a breath. "I am not interested."

Taking a longer breath, she noted with surprise that Klaus' face was passive, as it had been throughout her entire ramble.

… had he heard her?

"How did Tyler take the breakup?" he asked calmly.

She almost choked. "W-what?"

"Tyler; you two broke up – how did he take it?"

How in the hell did he know that?

Smiling, he stood. "You can tell me at dinner tomorrow night; we can toast to it. 7pm… don't forget."

He winked at the last and Caroline's jaw dropped. Clearly her lie had not been as flawless as she'd thought it to be. He was getting way too good at reading her.

Quickly she re-composed herself.

"Seriously? This is how you get dates? Bartering or force?"

Klaus cocked a brow. "Then you're saying it's a date?"

Again her jaw slackened in flustered surprise.

He smirked then began heading towards the door.

She was still trying to come up with a retort when he came to an abrupt pause in the doorway.

"Mikaelson?" he asked over his shoulder.

Instantly she felt a blush rise to her cheeks, burning hot.

"It was the first name that came to mind!"

"Then I was on your mind?" he smiled sweetly.

"You're insufferable," she informed him, indignant. "And by the way, it's Miss Mikaelson, not Mrs, which would technically make me your sister."

"Caroline Mikaelson," he tried it out, ignoring her.

She glared and he only smirked as he exited her bedroom.

"Caroline Mikaelson," he continued to murmur in the hallway, "Caroline Mikaelson," he toyed it around in his mouth.

Thoughts? Should I even continue with this story?