Here is my drabble that I have forced myself to write because I have the biggest block on Earth these last few days. I can’t decide if I love it or hate it so... Enjoy 😊
♡ KLAROLINE DRABBLE #44: Body Disposal For One♡ (NSFW: blood, gore)
When her boyfriend, Damon, had forced her to watch Pulp Fiction in Senior year, she found herself identifying with the character of Winston Wolfe, the ‘man who fixes problems’, a little too much. She had often been the one to clean up after people’s messes whether it was Elena throwing up all over her parents’ carpet (underage drinking was a big no-no, of course) or Damon trashing whatever house he was partying at that weekend. Cleaning up after a murder sounded like a breeze. She had no idea her first disposal would be her own boyfriend, though.
But she was right. It was a breeze. And with a degree in Business, she knew how to put her skills to good use.
When she entered the large hall, baroque designs abundant, the sight of a head separated from its body greeted her. Blood was splattered across the floor, a crude mix of entrails and fluids unravelling from the torso. She sighed, her heels coming to a slow click, and asked, “Would it kill you to be a little less...messy?”
“Afraid not, sweetheart,” his accented voice drawled as he looked up from his place on the royal blue armchair. “That would ruin the fun.”
Klaus Mikaelson was a regular customer. A well-paying one, too. But he was as attractive as he was obnoxious. And as obnoxious as he was bloodthirsty. He had been impressed by her work after reluctantly following the suggestions of an associate to use her services. Despite obviously checking her out upon entry, he voiced his displeasure just as quickly. He was a ‘lone wolf’, but so was she. Nothing was more gratifying than the pleasantly surprised flash in his eyes as she billed him for her time, not a trace of his crime in sight.
“Well in that case, a little help would be appreciated,” she stated pointedly and threw a rag at his face, which he hadn’t failed to catch. His smirk elicited an eye roll, of which she had plenty to display in his presence. She pressed onwards to the body, dropping her two large duffle bags alongside it. She crouched down, raising an eyebrow as the dismembered head was placed in her memory. “Charles Gatineaux?” She glanced at him, questioning, “Keeping it in the family’s a little tacky, don’t you think?”
Klaus rose from the armchair, rolling up the sleeves of his thin, cotton henley. “In my experience, those who have been wronged seek revenge and it appears the heirs of my victims are prime candidates,” he noted absentmindedly.
“How thorough,” Caroline commented with a scoff. She stood up slowly and turned her head his way. He was feigning a scrub of the blood marks on the walls. “You’d think by now, you’d learn how to clean up after yourself.”
He pressed the cloth to his chest and frowned. “And risk losing the precious time we have together?” He took a step forward and gestured a bloody hand out. “This is our thing, is it not?”
“We don’t have a thing,” she replied sharply and turned back to view the body. “You have a murder thing, though.”
That was an understatement. This was his third call of the week. For someone so high up in the world of crime, he sure liked to get his hands dirty.
She felt him come up behind her, his body pressing into her back. The heat was enough to make her shiver with excitement. “Isn’t it thrilling?” Klaus whispered, the syllables dragging out as his lips brushed against her earlobe.
Caroline pressed her lips together momentarily. “You’re not lacking in creativity, that’s for sure,” she muttered and closed her eyes when his teeth grazed her skin.
“Impressed with my work, love?”
“I might make a suggestion or two.”
Klaus brought a hand to her waist, his fingers drumming gently over the rippling fabric of her shirt. “Care to share all of those suggestions with me over a drink?”
“I don’t mix business with pleasure,” she finally spat, slipping from his grasp to zip open her duffel bag of tools.
She could hear his damning breath of amusement. He stepped over the dismembered body and mused, “You didn’t seem to mind last Spring.”
Caroline shook her head, an incredulous grin spread across her face. Slipping her hands into a pair of gloves, she replied, “Well, you know Valentine’s can make a person do stupid things, fall into bed with the wrong people.”
“I don’t recall a bed,” he pointed out with an impish smile. He crouched down to admire his handiwork. “I do recall your delicious screams, however.”
No, it wasn’t on a bed. It was on a desk. And his victim was sitting slack-jawed in the office chair adjacent (literally, that thing was barely hanging on by a few tendons). It was a remarkable sight to take in followed by the sight of Klaus, drenched in crimson, which was most unforgiving. She could barely contain herself when his darkened eyes took upon her. It was the only time she had ever displayed her bloodlust in the company of others; Damon had seen it, of course, but hadn’t lived long enough to use it against her. It wasn’t long before Klaus’ bloodied hands were staining every inch of her bare chest as he rocked into her and she cried out his name.
Caroline looked across at him. She didn’t offer him a response. She held a firm stare. Anything else would provide him a wealth of ammo that she knew better than to give.
“Perhaps next Valentine’s?” he suggested, his notes lifting in the empty space.
“If you’re not caught by then.” Caroline hummed, retrieving a freshly sharpened saw from the bag. “Three Gatineaux family members in a week,” she threw him an uneasy smile, “kinda indicates a pattern.”
“I suppose I’ll just have to keep calling you to help with the clean up then.” He paused, presenting a toothy grin. “So shall I book us a table for Valentine’s or will we be opting for a round two of last year, love?”
Her eyelashes fluttered as she fought off a devilish smile. “I think I’d like to keep our options open.”
