[fanfic] a house unbuilt; caroline/stefan, the vampire diaries; r
title; rating: a house unbuilt; pg13
pairing, fandom; wordcount: caroline/stefan, the vampire diaries; 879
notes: more future!fic for these two; for the prompt "brick" @ fc_smorgasbord
I remembered after writing this that ghosts are in fact a part of series canon. Apologies.
A year after Liz Forbes dies in her daughter's arms, Caroline still asks Stefan about ghosts and angels, eternity and a life hereafter. What Stefan doesn't tell her is that in all of his years, he's never seen a ghost himself, that he's never even heard a whisper of an angel from the lips of those old enough to know everything worth knowing. Instead he indulges in her fantasies, lets her believe, by omission, that all of it is possible.
She had tried to save the woman, but it had been too late. And even if there had been time, Stefan is sure that the good Sheriff would have rejected Caroline's lifeblood, refused to drink, or worse yet, sputtered, spewing the red liquid out in a last act of defiance. Stefan's just glad that it didn't have to come to that, that Caroline reached her mother just in time for one final gasp. It's better this way. This way she'll never have to know the truth.
And the truth is? That Stefan doesn't believe in heaven. He doesn't believe in hell. The only demons he's ever met are his own personal demons. The only ghosts he knows are the ghosts of his past.
But when Caroline talks of these things, her eyes light up in a way that makes him forget that she's no longer human, and even though she never says it, he knows she's thinking of her mom.
So Stefan lets her believe. He cups her chin in his hands and gives her a smile and a shrug, and lets her imagine the reunion that she will never have. A chance for forgiveness, for acceptance. He lets her have this, because he knows that it is all she has.
--
Caroline has always hated the cold, and despite certain "life events" she has never really taken to the outdoors. So even years later, she lets Stefan lead the charge on the nights when the moon is high and there's a chill on the air, white snow crunching beneath their boots.
"What is the point of being a vampire if you still get cold?" She trembles, and Stefan laughs.
Back inside, Stefan lets Caroline curl next to him by the fire.
"You're like an icicle," he tells her, his hands running up and down her arms. Caroline buries her face in his shoulder, takes in a deep breath, releases another shiver against him.
--
There's another band of werewolves in town.
Caroline has long since given up trying to treat them all like she once treated Tyler, has given up on the idea of being their friend, their ally.
Tyler had been different. Special.
"They're deadly," Stefan warns, not for the first time, the early evening threatening to turn into a full moon. "Keep the doors locked."
Caroline grabs his hand. "Stay?" she asks. And there's a danger in her voice that Stefan ignores. He moves to lock the deadbolt, and by the time he's through, Caroline is already tugging at his collar from behind. He turns in her grasp, and for the first time, their mouths connect.
--
Caroline is not sure what it is, but something about a full moon has always sent an ache straight through her. She's hungry and horny and it would be a lie if she said that Stefan was a mere convenience. No. Stefan is exactly who she wants, and this is exactly what she wants to happen. Caroline pulls his shirt over his head and leads them back to the couch where they collapse. She tries not to think of the conversations in which they've laughed at the idea of their coupling. Although she does remember the word absurd being used in that context. But she pushes the memories away and instead tries to concentrate on the feel of Stefan's weight on her, his fingers sliding underneath the fabric of her skirt, the gruff sound he makes when she opens her legs to him. His teeth scrape at her neck and Caroline arches into the sensation, his name escaping her lips. He takes her then for the first time, every light in the house on, a full moon shining down outside, and a chorus of familiar howls just beyond her reinforced door.
Caroline bites her tongue -- tastes copper.
--
It seems they're always moving in some sort of twisted dance. One of them lays a brick, the other one kicks it down. A house goes unbuilt.
Caroline circles him.
Stefan takes a step back, drawing her hand and heart with him as he goes.
Caroline gives in, releases, gives in again.
Stefan finds himself beside her, on top of her, inside of her.
They sleep. They fuck. They're just friends. They're more. They love each other and hate each other.
And so on. They collide and separate like the crashing of waves, like the notes in a song, until time and age has made them too tired to fight it any more.
--
"Do you believe in ghosts?" Caroline asks him again, this time in his arms, curled naked against him in a familiar embrace.
Stefan searches her face, recalls the thousands of times she's asked this question before, recalls the very first time she asked it, in a position not unlike this one - and yet so very unlike it. Her voice sounds as hopeful now as it did all those years ago.
He has never once given her a satisfactory answer.
"You know?" he says this time. "I think I might."
-fin
pairing, fandom; wordcount: caroline/stefan, the vampire diaries; 879
notes: more future!fic for these two; for the prompt "brick" @ fc_smorgasbord
I remembered after writing this that ghosts are in fact a part of series canon. Apologies.
A year after Liz Forbes dies in her daughter's arms, Caroline still asks Stefan about ghosts and angels, eternity and a life hereafter. What Stefan doesn't tell her is that in all of his years, he's never seen a ghost himself, that he's never even heard a whisper of an angel from the lips of those old enough to know everything worth knowing. Instead he indulges in her fantasies, lets her believe, by omission, that all of it is possible.
She had tried to save the woman, but it had been too late. And even if there had been time, Stefan is sure that the good Sheriff would have rejected Caroline's lifeblood, refused to drink, or worse yet, sputtered, spewing the red liquid out in a last act of defiance. Stefan's just glad that it didn't have to come to that, that Caroline reached her mother just in time for one final gasp. It's better this way. This way she'll never have to know the truth.
And the truth is? That Stefan doesn't believe in heaven. He doesn't believe in hell. The only demons he's ever met are his own personal demons. The only ghosts he knows are the ghosts of his past.
But when Caroline talks of these things, her eyes light up in a way that makes him forget that she's no longer human, and even though she never says it, he knows she's thinking of her mom.
So Stefan lets her believe. He cups her chin in his hands and gives her a smile and a shrug, and lets her imagine the reunion that she will never have. A chance for forgiveness, for acceptance. He lets her have this, because he knows that it is all she has.
--
Caroline has always hated the cold, and despite certain "life events" she has never really taken to the outdoors. So even years later, she lets Stefan lead the charge on the nights when the moon is high and there's a chill on the air, white snow crunching beneath their boots.
"What is the point of being a vampire if you still get cold?" She trembles, and Stefan laughs.
Back inside, Stefan lets Caroline curl next to him by the fire.
"You're like an icicle," he tells her, his hands running up and down her arms. Caroline buries her face in his shoulder, takes in a deep breath, releases another shiver against him.
--
There's another band of werewolves in town.
Caroline has long since given up trying to treat them all like she once treated Tyler, has given up on the idea of being their friend, their ally.
Tyler had been different. Special.
"They're deadly," Stefan warns, not for the first time, the early evening threatening to turn into a full moon. "Keep the doors locked."
Caroline grabs his hand. "Stay?" she asks. And there's a danger in her voice that Stefan ignores. He moves to lock the deadbolt, and by the time he's through, Caroline is already tugging at his collar from behind. He turns in her grasp, and for the first time, their mouths connect.
--
Caroline is not sure what it is, but something about a full moon has always sent an ache straight through her. She's hungry and horny and it would be a lie if she said that Stefan was a mere convenience. No. Stefan is exactly who she wants, and this is exactly what she wants to happen. Caroline pulls his shirt over his head and leads them back to the couch where they collapse. She tries not to think of the conversations in which they've laughed at the idea of their coupling. Although she does remember the word absurd being used in that context. But she pushes the memories away and instead tries to concentrate on the feel of Stefan's weight on her, his fingers sliding underneath the fabric of her skirt, the gruff sound he makes when she opens her legs to him. His teeth scrape at her neck and Caroline arches into the sensation, his name escaping her lips. He takes her then for the first time, every light in the house on, a full moon shining down outside, and a chorus of familiar howls just beyond her reinforced door.
Caroline bites her tongue -- tastes copper.
--
It seems they're always moving in some sort of twisted dance. One of them lays a brick, the other one kicks it down. A house goes unbuilt.
Caroline circles him.
Stefan takes a step back, drawing her hand and heart with him as he goes.
Caroline gives in, releases, gives in again.
Stefan finds himself beside her, on top of her, inside of her.
They sleep. They fuck. They're just friends. They're more. They love each other and hate each other.
And so on. They collide and separate like the crashing of waves, like the notes in a song, until time and age has made them too tired to fight it any more.
--
"Do you believe in ghosts?" Caroline asks him again, this time in his arms, curled naked against him in a familiar embrace.
Stefan searches her face, recalls the thousands of times she's asked this question before, recalls the very first time she asked it, in a position not unlike this one - and yet so very unlike it. Her voice sounds as hopeful now as it did all those years ago.
He has never once given her a satisfactory answer.
"You know?" he says this time. "I think I might."
-fin