07. hoppípolla
title: hoppípolla (2/5)
fandom: the vampire diaries
characters/pairing: klaus/caroline, tyler/caroline, stefan, damon, tyler, rebekah
rating: t
genre: romance, angst, drama, humour, friendship (because i can't stay away from my ot3)
word count: ~4650
spoilers: none.
summary: "Do you remember what I told you, the night of the ball? The world's going to need some of that light after I'm done with him." Klaus looks up at the setting sun and with one breath, blows it out.
edit: I've added dates to the flashbacks so as to not cause any more confusion. Usually I hate doing that but now is not the time for pretences! Happy reading~
-
hoppípolla
ii
.
There are many things Damon Salvatore would gladly (read: without being threatened or bribed) do for Caroline Forbes.
Help her choose an outfit (read: stand around in some boutique for hours on end) to scare off the bitch trying to steal her much-deserved promotion? "Wear the navy pencil skirt - your butt looked great," he'd enthused.
Check out (read: do extensive background research and minimum stalking if required) the new guy she's dating to make sure he's not some sadistic centuries-old vampire? "On it."
Make sure Stefan isn't alone (read: hide all the liquor and keep him away from fire, wood and sunlight) when he's in one of his pining moods? "Just tell me where The Notebook is," he'd sigh, before enduring the painful, uncomfortable silence through the kissing-in-the-rain scenes and his brother's broodiness.
Waking up early on Saturdays (read: waking up obscenely early on Saturdays) to go grocery shopping? "You are surely the spawn of devil," he'd moaned into his pillow as Caroline yanks his curtain apart to let in the cumbersome light.
He's strolling through the open air market at eight in the morning on a Saturday, begrudgingly glancing down at the grocery list Caroline's scrawled for him. The grocery's supposed to be his 'thing' (Stefan has to make sure the apartment is clean at all times and Caroline… well, they're not too sure, but she always seems to have something to do or somewhere to go when they ask what her thing is). Established since the early days of them first sharing an apartment, Caroline says it's sacred, and he shouldn't question it - which he does do, every single time Caroline hands him The List.
The List basically made sure everything in their life is in working order (or at least Caroline had told him sympathetically when he looked crestfallen at having to handle this task for the rest of his life). The List makes living easier, she had insisted, and for that, I thank you.
Living with Caroline means an endless supply of chocolate in the fridge, scented candles and various oddities cluttering up the bathroom, throw pillows in every corner of their apartment and bottles and bottles (and bottles) of wine-
(Merlot, she'd growled at him that morning, eye mask still perched on her tousled mess of hair. She's looking particularly grouchy. "And don't give me your bullshit about being broke. I saw you sneaking out Stefan's credit card.")
-to be drank daily, because Caroline claims it makes her feel like a "real Parisian" (he doesn't have the heart to tell her real Parisians don't refer to themselves as real Parisians), especially when she smokes (or tries to, at any rate) a Gauloise on the terrace come evening time.
Damon spies a nondescript bottle of wine and grabs it, pays with a quick merci, smirking to himself as he props the bottle over his shoulder. Vampire Barbie can be really pretentious when it comes to her wine, which is why sometimes he takes great pleasure into switching cheap ones into the expensive. It's not like she can actually tell the difference, anyway. Not after two glasses.
After three glasses, she'll start dancing around the apartment, the sundresses she likes wearing so much floating around her thighs like a dream.
(It irks him when - for some inane reason - Stefan always makes sure Caroline's sitting down, dress trapped firmly to her sides by the time Damon eagerly hands her glass number four.)
I'm living the Parisian dream; she'll warble after her fourth glass. After her sixth, she'll sometimes collapse next to him on the couch, whispering something like I'm beautiful and strong and full of light before he tips the last of her wine into her mouth: going out cold like the weak drinker she is, and will always be.
Stefan frowns at this, but Damon just shrugs. At least one of them is keeping her happy.
Sometimes he'd carry her gingerly back to her bed, but most of the time he lets her stay, enjoying the tickle of her hair on his neck and her apple-white arms around his torso. He'll tuck a strand of her golden hair behind her ear and give her shoulder a fond rub before switching to The Bold and the Beautiful (the 275th Generation), because she'd never let him live it down had she been awake and sober.
.
Damon whistles Moon River (Caroline makes him watch Breakfast at Tiffany's every time she feels nostalgic for a time she wasn't even alive for - which is every other weekend) as his shoes thud down on the cobblestones, and he thinks it's oddly fitting that they had chose to start over in Paris - everything's brighter in Paris, so Caroline had reasoned. She's right, though: even through the rain the sun manages to shine; every crevice of the city seems illuminated, and for once he doesn't mind that he still has to pick up Caroline's laundry and more ink for Stefan - he even walks to the very edge of the market to buy Caroline's favourite Edam cheese.
(Mostly because it always makes her want to drink more wine because they go so well together, but still.)
He's deciding between Camembert or Brie for Stefan (didn't hurt to soften his brother up some) when he feels the tap on his shoulder, and the faltering Excusez-moi?
"Oui?" Damon responds. She's a pretty little thing; red hair and blue eyes blinking the warm rain away. One of those cheap tourist-trap cameras is looped in the crook of her elbow, and Damon masks a smile as she bites her lip and garbles, "Pouvez-vous-um… Prendre…?" she trails off, flushing.
He considers letting her go on, eyebrow raised in amusement.
Instead, he holds out his hand and smirks, "It would be my pleasure."
"Oh, you speak English! Thank God." The redhead practically melts in relief and gushes, "Thanks, by the way. It's my first time here-" She hands him the camera and looks over her shoulder. "Hold on. Gonna go get my fr-Todd!"
Damon's busy working out the simple mechanics of the press-here-dummy camera as Red and her friend pose artfully around a giant wheel of cheese. "Right, I think I've figured th…"
His face pales. The flash goes off.
Todd grins at Damon and uncurls his stiff fingers from the camera. "Thanks!"
Red flutters her fingers at him and turns in a rush, not before saying, "Our bus is leaving, so…" She spares him one last grateful look, and with a fumbled shake of the hands she's off.
And now Damon's pushing through the throngs of people, trying to pick out the locals from the tourists - he catches a glimpse of red hair.
"Hey-wait!"
The girl's gone.
The rain falls down in sheets of blue and grey.
.
.
circa 2012
It's something Elena just can't fathom. Never has she seen Caroline and Bonnie in complete agreement with one another, with no quips or passive-aggressive remarks being thrown at each other.
The vampire and the witch are actually sitting quietly (with the exception of their bated breath, which Elena finds extremely distracting) on her windowsill, watching the boys tackle each other to the ground in the light rain that's been going on and off for the past few days. They're supposed to be finishing their Social Studies project - plus Bonnie wasn't sure how to tackle the college application essays - but had dropped that in lieu of Matt taking off his shirt to whip it at Tyler's face.
"Hot," is all Bonnie says, and Caroline can't help but agree.
"Come on, guys," Elena calls from her bed, rolling her eyes. "Bonnie, in case you've forgotten you're the one who needed help for your Yale application."
"Shh." Caroline raises a finger, voice low like she's narrating a wildlife documentary. "God, just look at them, 'Lena. You can count their packs from here. Just-wow."
"It's just them throwing a football around," Elena mutters, but Caroline drags her from the bed and presses the brunette to the window.
"Oh," is all she can say.
Bonnie smirks. "Oh is right."
"And another reason why it's great to be Elena Gilbert-lucky bitch lives right across from Mystic Fall's hottest quarterback," Caroline states flatly, and falls back against Elena's bed. Arm slung over her eyes, she wails, "And said quarterback is the only one who manages to get a smile on my boyfriend's face."
"Aw, Caroline," Bonnie says, dragging herself from the window (with difficulty) and flopping down next to the blonde. "He just needs time with the guys, get back to normalcy. Breaking out of a sire bond's sure to drain someone."
"Yeah, Care," Elena agrees, turning away from the sight of Tyler grinning wolfishly at Matt. "In fact, I've never actually heard of anyone breaking out of the bond, ever. And we did all that research, too."
"I'm sure you're right," Caroline mumbles. "It's just… it feels different." She catches Elena's eyes and turns away, burying herself deeper into her pillows. It's an unspoken agreement among all of them-especially Tyler and Caroline-to not mention the Incident at the clearing last week. There's nothing wrong with him, she had kept insisting. He was looking for a bunny but got sidetracked by that human, she had said.
Bonnie's hand on her shoulder shakes Caroline out of her reverie.
"I know," she says, brushing Caroline's hair back from her face. "Give it a few days, I'm sure everything's fine."
Sighing, Caroline sits up, brushing her hair out of her glossed lips. "I hope so. How do we write our personal statements again?"
Before Elena can respond, they hear a muffled cry from outside. Rushing back to the window, the girls press their noses against the cold glass.
What they see chills them to the bone.
Before Bonnie's even finished gasping, Elena's already out of the room in a flash with Caroline following closely behind her. Naturally, Caroline reaches Matt first. He's doubled over on the wet grass, mud on his shirt and hands clutching his neck. His face is pale, so pale, washed out by the drizzling rain.
"M-Matt?" Blood stains her hands, and she whips her head around to look at Tyler, eyes widening in horror. "Tyler-"
"It was an accident," he blurts out, backing away. There's red smudges around his mouth, like he'd cut himself while shaving and continued to cut himself, and he looks close to just melting away with the rain.
"Oh my God." Elena drops to her knees, hands pressed over her mouth. "Matt-Mattie, you okay?"
Bonnie's whispering some sort of spell, eyes shut tight while Matt's blood stains the front of Elena's sweater.
"He was so excited, so pumped," Tyler's moaning, his hands trembling uncontrollably. "All that blood just rushing and pounding in his veins-"
Caroline looks sick; she has Tyler's shaking body wrapped in her arms now, but she's chanting in her head, over and over again, stop, shut up, I don't want to hear this; stop, shut up, please, God, no more, Tyler, please-
"Mattie-" Elena's choking back a sob as Matt struggles to breathe, struggles to remain conscious. "Care-your blood-" Elena swallows heavily, swiping at her running nose. "Your blood can heal him. Right? It's just a bite-your blood-"
"No," Caroline whispers, closing her eyes, wishing it were all a dream. "I can't."
"You can't?" Elena looks down at Matt, who's trying to smile, but his body's convulsing. She flashes back to when Caroline had been bitten-she hadn't even lasted half an hour before passing out, and Caroline's supernatural, Caroline's a vampire-she sucks in a shaky breath. "Just… hang in there, Bonnie's going to heal you, alright sweetie?"
Matt visibly brightens at Elena's sweet words and nods weakly, even managing a weak smile. Elena vows to call him that more often, maybe even honey cupcake angelface, if he'd just stay conscious. Just five more minutes, Matt. Okay, that was great; you did great-another five okay? She begs for five more minutes, and then another, and turns a tear strained face to her friend. "Do something, Bonnie!" she pleads, muscles quivering from holding up Matt, but the grip she has on him suggests that she's never going to let go.
"She can't," Tyler says, and he sounds so empty Caroline shivers. "He's as good as dead."
Stop-shut up, please, no more, Tyler, stop, no. Her blue eyes snap open. "Klaus."
.
"Paris, Stefan?"
Stefan shrugs, setting his tumbler down on the dark mahogany of the bar. "She's always wanted to come."
"With you and Damon, of all people." The hybrid shakes his head, downing yet another drink in one gulp.
"Me and Damon," Stefan repeats agreeably, if only to fill the air around them with words. Klaus' dancing fingers cast shadows on the bar top and the lights burn with a stronger intensity as thunder rumbles the windowpanes of the bar. He's not sure why he's there for the second day in a row, but he does know why he didn't turn down Klaus' offer of Let me buy you a drink.
He's not stupid. He hasn't forgotten.
Stefan's still shaking out rain droplets from his hair, but Klaus looks as dry as if he'd strolled inside on a sunny day. Sitting next to Stefan, he looks every bit the dark prince to Stefan's white knight.
"How long have you stayed here?" Klaus asks, and there's a little too much saccharine in his voice, too much teeth in his smile. Stefan just mutters a reply ("A few years, give or take."). He's not uncomfortable in the hybrid's presence-he's just tired of waiting around for whatever bomb that Klaus is bound to drop.
"Did you enjoy Italy?"
Stefan's eyes narrow. "How did you…"
Klaus just motions for another drink, continuing, "And a few years in New York before that, and then there was Munich and - just a few weeks in Tokyo?" His lips twist into a smirk. "Couldn't handle the sashimi?"
Stefan takes a measured sip of his drink and doesn't answer. He swallows with difficulty-his throat's turned to cotton.
"Did you ever find what you were looking for?" Klaus tilts his glass to look down on the whiskey inside, the amber liquid threatening to spill but never does. "Obviously not. Must be why you're in Paris, aren't you? To try again?"
There's something about his voice… "You know." Stefan's knuckles are white.
"Of course I know, Stefan," Klaus sneers. "You didn't think I spent the last hundred years in a coffin, did you?"
Stefan doesn't ask how he knows - because let's face it: Klaus always knows - and instead chooses to ask, "Why now?"
"Why do you think?"
He doesn't answer immediately; mulls it over with his scotch, but then-his eyes widen, his fingers slip, and his drink spills over the lip of the glass. "No."
Klaus' smile only widens.
"Goddamnit Klaus." Stefan grinds his teeth together and nudges his glass away, eyes boring holes into Klaus'. "What do you want?"
"Caroline," the hybrid replies simply.
"I tried that, she doesn't want anything to do with you," Stefan hisses. "Not after what you've do-"
"Not after what you asked me to do," Klaus corrects, the threat in his voice looming over them and spreading a chill through the oak-paneled room. "Or have you forgotten the little deal we had a hundred years ago? As I recall-vampires never forget."
"No," Stefan says stiffly, wishing the bar would just swallow the hybrid whole. "I remember."
"Caroline doesn't know, does she?" Klaus' look of satisfaction changes to a smug one when Stefan shakes his head 'no', glaring the whole time. "Unless you want Caroline finding out her dearStefan isn't as sacred as she once thought, you're going to bring her to me."
Stefan knows how this goes, he's been a pawn in Klaus' games more times than he can remember, but he finds it in himself to challenge: "And if I don't?"
"I'll kill the doppelganger myself." Klaus drains his drink and sweeps out of the room, and Stefan lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in.
When he's sure Klaus is out of earshot, he pulls out his cell phone. "Come on, Damon," he mutters as the dial tone fills his ear. "Where the hell are you?"
.
.
circa 2013
"You found me." Damon grins up at a sympathetic Caroline, his tie gone and his suit wrinkled. There's icing smeared in his right fist and a nearly empty bottle of scotch in his left. She tries not to notice the red rims around his eyes or the smell of alcohol coming off of him in waves or the way he doesn't even try to sit up anymore-she just gently pries his fingers off the bottle and sits next to him, her dress falling softly around her ankles.
"You smell like the sun," Damon mumbles happily, drunkenly, as he lets his head fall onto Caroline's shoulder. "Can I have that back now?"
"Not a chance." Caroline holds the bottle out of Damon's reach and leans back against the damp bricks of the courthouse. She wipes away the smears of cake from Damon's chin and lifts it up. "This is pretty pathetic, even for you."
Damon grunts a reply and turns away. "It's totally expected of me, though. You gotta admit."
"Yeah, I guess it kind of is," she says, sighing. "It was a beautiful reception, Damon. I wish you could've been there."
"I was there," Damon insists weakly, and makes a swipe for his drink. Caroline doesn't resist this time, and Damon takes a tumble against her lap, where he stays.
"Not the way I would've liked you to," Caroline says evenly. She runs feather light circles in his hair, and feels him exhale through the material of her pale yellow dress. "Not the way she would have liked."
"Enough, Caroline," Damon says, and closes his eyes. "Just… don't. Not now. Not ever. Stefan's already given me the tough luck pep talk."
Caroline says nothing. Flowers fall from trees, and the late autumn sun cast halos around them as they gaze out at the lake. If Tyler were here, she thinks, he would've liked it.
If Tyler were here, he would have let her pull him to the dance floor, joined her in making fun of Alaric's dopey proud-papa smile, twirled her again and again and again until they both forget how to breathe.
But he's not, and the only person who'd actually asked her to dance had also been the person no one had bothered to invite. That never stopped Klaus from coming, lingering in the corner like the creep he is, burning holes in the back of Caroline's head throughout the whole ceremony.
If Tyler were here, he'd tell him to fuck off and let them have this one moment of happiness.
If Tyler were here.
"Do you…" she begins tentatively, fingers still in Damon's hair. "Do you think Tyler's alright?"
"I'm sure he is, Blondie." He's closing her eyes as she plays with his hair, and she decides she likes Damon this way-not the whole "woe is me, life sucks then you die" part, but the parts where they actually talk and he smiles and they have a moment Stefan deems worthy to journal about.
"I miss him," she says quietly.
"I know." There's a pause. "Sorry for making Stefan crush you to the ground that one time."
"God, that feels like forever ago." Caroline feels the corners of her lips quirk up into a faraway smile. "I'm over it."
"And for going all Rambo on Tyler in the woods."
"Oh, trust me," she says, and bites down hard on her lower lip to stop the hot prickling in the corners of her eyes. "That's not the worse of my problems."
"Then what is?"
Again, she doesn't answer immediately. She gazes out over the water once again, before looking down at Damon. "Do you ever want to just run away?"
Damon's breath is warm and even against her lap, so she knows he's considering-really considering-her question. "All the time," he says after a while.
.
Caroline blinks, still in a haze of dreams and goose down pillows. She brushes some hair out of her mouth and tries to sit up, the dark sky casting strange shadows across her bedroom wall as the rain pounds down around her. Nestling back into the sheets, she curls herself into a ball-her default position these days-and concentrates on the sound of rain. It feels intimate on so many levels, but for some reason she can't draw any coziness from the room. Her eyes trail to her bedside table where her MacBook Lighter Than Air v3.0 (talk about original) is resting. She'd been watching Roman Holiday-because it's been so long since she'd dreamt up a fairytale for herself-but the movie's over and the screensaver on her laptop is flashing on.
Tyler appears on screen, and she knows if Stefan were here he'd just shake his head or something.
"I forgot how fit that boy was."
Caroline jumps a mile, a shriek ripping from her lips, and she looks around the room wildly to see Rebekah outlined in silver against her window.
"H-how'd you get in?" she asks, hoping Rebekah doesn't notice the tremor in her voice.
Rebekah traipses across the room, nonchalantly tracing a finger against Caroline's sheet thread count and studying random knick knacks. "I compelled your landlord to sign over the lease to your apartment," she says easily. "Actually, I don't think I even had to compel him, but I was short on time."
Oh shit, Caroline swallows. "You could have called ahead, like any sane person would do. A hello in advance would have been nice."
"I figured I'd surprise you, love." Rebekah nudges Caroline's closet door closed with her foot. "For old time's sake."
Sighing, Caroline traipses out of bed and flips the lights on-golden light floods the room. "Why are you here?"
"It seems my brother's desperate to get a hold of you." Rebekah rolls her eyes, folding herself with easy grace into Caroline's rocking chair, crossing her legs. "It took my ingenuity to get you alone, of course."
Scoffing, Caroline blows her bangs out of her eyes. "That wasn't ingenuity-Damon had errands to run and Stefan's at work. It's called routine."
"So routine would bring them home at about… what time exactly?"
Caroline decides to humour her. "If you had any ounce of Erin Brokovich in you, you'd know they're usually back by n…" Her voice trails off as she realizes it's half past six, and they're supposed to be back two hours ago.
Rebekah's grin widens. "Exactly. Apparently Damon got sidetracked, and Stefan… well, he's having a drink with Nik."
"God, if Damon's hitting on that butcher girl aga-" Caroline starts to splutter, but stops. "Wait. Stefan's with Klaus?"
"Oh, yes. You see, Klaus has Stefan crushed in the palm of his hand as expected, but it's you we're worried about." Rebekah's smile twitches as she reaches for her handbag by her feet. "You and your stubborn little head. So I came bearing gifts."
She tosses a silver box at Caroline, who catches it deftly. She keeps her expression neutral as she lifts the lid off the box-but can't quite stop her eyes from widening. She always did have a weakness for Chanel. "I-wow."
"Wow indeed. Cost a right fortune, too." Rebekah stands and heads for the window. "Mind you wear that tonight, won't you love?"
"Wear… wait-what?"
"Don't worry, Stefan will fill you in," Rebekah smirks. She looks around the room one last time, and says, despite herself: "I don't think I need to remind you to be careful, Caroline. You do know my brother better than most people do."
"Whatever, thanks for the unsolicited advice." Caroline raises an eyebrow expectantly. "Now leave."
The air in the room changes, and Rebekah takes a step back from the window. Caroline tries not to gulp, but how does one act accordingly when an Original takes a menacing step towards you?
"We used to have such fun together, Caroline." Rebekah's smile leaves and is replaced by a stony expression-so much like Klaus, Caroline notes, a little struck. "What happened?"
A lot of things, she wants to say. You leaving. Your half-assed goodbye. You choosing Klaus. You choosing him again and again and again disregarding everything he's done to us-to me. But Caroline takes a deep breath and says instead, "Your brother ruined the boy I loved. You left with him. That's what happened."
Rebekah narrows her eyes. "You left too, and you took Damon and Stefan with you. At least I had the decency to say goodbye."
"Oh, don't pretend like you actually care," Caroline snorts. "Just-I have no plans on getting entangled in this stupid scheme you and Klaus are cooking up. And I think you're overstaying your visit, if we can even call it that."
Rebekah doesn't respond, just makes her way back to the window. Before she actually leaves, she turns around one last time.
"And Caroline," Rebekah notes a little sadly, "he was only ever just a boy."
She's gone before Caroline can slam the window in her face.
.
tbc
.
fandom: the vampire diaries
characters/pairing: klaus/caroline, tyler/caroline, stefan, damon, tyler, rebekah
rating: t
genre: romance, angst, drama, humour, friendship (because i can't stay away from my ot3)
word count: ~4650
spoilers: none.
summary: "Do you remember what I told you, the night of the ball? The world's going to need some of that light after I'm done with him." Klaus looks up at the setting sun and with one breath, blows it out.
edit: I've added dates to the flashbacks so as to not cause any more confusion. Usually I hate doing that but now is not the time for pretences! Happy reading~
-
hoppípolla
ii
.
There are many things Damon Salvatore would gladly (read: without being threatened or bribed) do for Caroline Forbes.
Help her choose an outfit (read: stand around in some boutique for hours on end) to scare off the bitch trying to steal her much-deserved promotion? "Wear the navy pencil skirt - your butt looked great," he'd enthused.
Check out (read: do extensive background research and minimum stalking if required) the new guy she's dating to make sure he's not some sadistic centuries-old vampire? "On it."
Make sure Stefan isn't alone (read: hide all the liquor and keep him away from fire, wood and sunlight) when he's in one of his pining moods? "Just tell me where The Notebook is," he'd sigh, before enduring the painful, uncomfortable silence through the kissing-in-the-rain scenes and his brother's broodiness.
Waking up early on Saturdays (read: waking up obscenely early on Saturdays) to go grocery shopping? "You are surely the spawn of devil," he'd moaned into his pillow as Caroline yanks his curtain apart to let in the cumbersome light.
He's strolling through the open air market at eight in the morning on a Saturday, begrudgingly glancing down at the grocery list Caroline's scrawled for him. The grocery's supposed to be his 'thing' (Stefan has to make sure the apartment is clean at all times and Caroline… well, they're not too sure, but she always seems to have something to do or somewhere to go when they ask what her thing is). Established since the early days of them first sharing an apartment, Caroline says it's sacred, and he shouldn't question it - which he does do, every single time Caroline hands him The List.
The List basically made sure everything in their life is in working order (or at least Caroline had told him sympathetically when he looked crestfallen at having to handle this task for the rest of his life). The List makes living easier, she had insisted, and for that, I thank you.
Living with Caroline means an endless supply of chocolate in the fridge, scented candles and various oddities cluttering up the bathroom, throw pillows in every corner of their apartment and bottles and bottles (and bottles) of wine-
(Merlot, she'd growled at him that morning, eye mask still perched on her tousled mess of hair. She's looking particularly grouchy. "And don't give me your bullshit about being broke. I saw you sneaking out Stefan's credit card.")
-to be drank daily, because Caroline claims it makes her feel like a "real Parisian" (he doesn't have the heart to tell her real Parisians don't refer to themselves as real Parisians), especially when she smokes (or tries to, at any rate) a Gauloise on the terrace come evening time.
Damon spies a nondescript bottle of wine and grabs it, pays with a quick merci, smirking to himself as he props the bottle over his shoulder. Vampire Barbie can be really pretentious when it comes to her wine, which is why sometimes he takes great pleasure into switching cheap ones into the expensive. It's not like she can actually tell the difference, anyway. Not after two glasses.
After three glasses, she'll start dancing around the apartment, the sundresses she likes wearing so much floating around her thighs like a dream.
(It irks him when - for some inane reason - Stefan always makes sure Caroline's sitting down, dress trapped firmly to her sides by the time Damon eagerly hands her glass number four.)
I'm living the Parisian dream; she'll warble after her fourth glass. After her sixth, she'll sometimes collapse next to him on the couch, whispering something like I'm beautiful and strong and full of light before he tips the last of her wine into her mouth: going out cold like the weak drinker she is, and will always be.
Stefan frowns at this, but Damon just shrugs. At least one of them is keeping her happy.
Sometimes he'd carry her gingerly back to her bed, but most of the time he lets her stay, enjoying the tickle of her hair on his neck and her apple-white arms around his torso. He'll tuck a strand of her golden hair behind her ear and give her shoulder a fond rub before switching to The Bold and the Beautiful (the 275th Generation), because she'd never let him live it down had she been awake and sober.
.
Damon whistles Moon River (Caroline makes him watch Breakfast at Tiffany's every time she feels nostalgic for a time she wasn't even alive for - which is every other weekend) as his shoes thud down on the cobblestones, and he thinks it's oddly fitting that they had chose to start over in Paris - everything's brighter in Paris, so Caroline had reasoned. She's right, though: even through the rain the sun manages to shine; every crevice of the city seems illuminated, and for once he doesn't mind that he still has to pick up Caroline's laundry and more ink for Stefan - he even walks to the very edge of the market to buy Caroline's favourite Edam cheese.
(Mostly because it always makes her want to drink more wine because they go so well together, but still.)
He's deciding between Camembert or Brie for Stefan (didn't hurt to soften his brother up some) when he feels the tap on his shoulder, and the faltering Excusez-moi?
"Oui?" Damon responds. She's a pretty little thing; red hair and blue eyes blinking the warm rain away. One of those cheap tourist-trap cameras is looped in the crook of her elbow, and Damon masks a smile as she bites her lip and garbles, "Pouvez-vous-um… Prendre…?" she trails off, flushing.
He considers letting her go on, eyebrow raised in amusement.
Instead, he holds out his hand and smirks, "It would be my pleasure."
"Oh, you speak English! Thank God." The redhead practically melts in relief and gushes, "Thanks, by the way. It's my first time here-" She hands him the camera and looks over her shoulder. "Hold on. Gonna go get my fr-Todd!"
Damon's busy working out the simple mechanics of the press-here-dummy camera as Red and her friend pose artfully around a giant wheel of cheese. "Right, I think I've figured th…"
His face pales. The flash goes off.
Todd grins at Damon and uncurls his stiff fingers from the camera. "Thanks!"
Red flutters her fingers at him and turns in a rush, not before saying, "Our bus is leaving, so…" She spares him one last grateful look, and with a fumbled shake of the hands she's off.
And now Damon's pushing through the throngs of people, trying to pick out the locals from the tourists - he catches a glimpse of red hair.
"Hey-wait!"
The girl's gone.
The rain falls down in sheets of blue and grey.
.
.
circa 2012
It's something Elena just can't fathom. Never has she seen Caroline and Bonnie in complete agreement with one another, with no quips or passive-aggressive remarks being thrown at each other.
The vampire and the witch are actually sitting quietly (with the exception of their bated breath, which Elena finds extremely distracting) on her windowsill, watching the boys tackle each other to the ground in the light rain that's been going on and off for the past few days. They're supposed to be finishing their Social Studies project - plus Bonnie wasn't sure how to tackle the college application essays - but had dropped that in lieu of Matt taking off his shirt to whip it at Tyler's face.
"Hot," is all Bonnie says, and Caroline can't help but agree.
"Come on, guys," Elena calls from her bed, rolling her eyes. "Bonnie, in case you've forgotten you're the one who needed help for your Yale application."
"Shh." Caroline raises a finger, voice low like she's narrating a wildlife documentary. "God, just look at them, 'Lena. You can count their packs from here. Just-wow."
"It's just them throwing a football around," Elena mutters, but Caroline drags her from the bed and presses the brunette to the window.
"Oh," is all she can say.
Bonnie smirks. "Oh is right."
"And another reason why it's great to be Elena Gilbert-lucky bitch lives right across from Mystic Fall's hottest quarterback," Caroline states flatly, and falls back against Elena's bed. Arm slung over her eyes, she wails, "And said quarterback is the only one who manages to get a smile on my boyfriend's face."
"Aw, Caroline," Bonnie says, dragging herself from the window (with difficulty) and flopping down next to the blonde. "He just needs time with the guys, get back to normalcy. Breaking out of a sire bond's sure to drain someone."
"Yeah, Care," Elena agrees, turning away from the sight of Tyler grinning wolfishly at Matt. "In fact, I've never actually heard of anyone breaking out of the bond, ever. And we did all that research, too."
"I'm sure you're right," Caroline mumbles. "It's just… it feels different." She catches Elena's eyes and turns away, burying herself deeper into her pillows. It's an unspoken agreement among all of them-especially Tyler and Caroline-to not mention the Incident at the clearing last week. There's nothing wrong with him, she had kept insisting. He was looking for a bunny but got sidetracked by that human, she had said.
Bonnie's hand on her shoulder shakes Caroline out of her reverie.
"I know," she says, brushing Caroline's hair back from her face. "Give it a few days, I'm sure everything's fine."
Sighing, Caroline sits up, brushing her hair out of her glossed lips. "I hope so. How do we write our personal statements again?"
Before Elena can respond, they hear a muffled cry from outside. Rushing back to the window, the girls press their noses against the cold glass.
What they see chills them to the bone.
Before Bonnie's even finished gasping, Elena's already out of the room in a flash with Caroline following closely behind her. Naturally, Caroline reaches Matt first. He's doubled over on the wet grass, mud on his shirt and hands clutching his neck. His face is pale, so pale, washed out by the drizzling rain.
"M-Matt?" Blood stains her hands, and she whips her head around to look at Tyler, eyes widening in horror. "Tyler-"
"It was an accident," he blurts out, backing away. There's red smudges around his mouth, like he'd cut himself while shaving and continued to cut himself, and he looks close to just melting away with the rain.
"Oh my God." Elena drops to her knees, hands pressed over her mouth. "Matt-Mattie, you okay?"
Bonnie's whispering some sort of spell, eyes shut tight while Matt's blood stains the front of Elena's sweater.
"He was so excited, so pumped," Tyler's moaning, his hands trembling uncontrollably. "All that blood just rushing and pounding in his veins-"
Caroline looks sick; she has Tyler's shaking body wrapped in her arms now, but she's chanting in her head, over and over again, stop, shut up, I don't want to hear this; stop, shut up, please, God, no more, Tyler, please-
"Mattie-" Elena's choking back a sob as Matt struggles to breathe, struggles to remain conscious. "Care-your blood-" Elena swallows heavily, swiping at her running nose. "Your blood can heal him. Right? It's just a bite-your blood-"
"No," Caroline whispers, closing her eyes, wishing it were all a dream. "I can't."
"You can't?" Elena looks down at Matt, who's trying to smile, but his body's convulsing. She flashes back to when Caroline had been bitten-she hadn't even lasted half an hour before passing out, and Caroline's supernatural, Caroline's a vampire-she sucks in a shaky breath. "Just… hang in there, Bonnie's going to heal you, alright sweetie?"
Matt visibly brightens at Elena's sweet words and nods weakly, even managing a weak smile. Elena vows to call him that more often, maybe even honey cupcake angelface, if he'd just stay conscious. Just five more minutes, Matt. Okay, that was great; you did great-another five okay? She begs for five more minutes, and then another, and turns a tear strained face to her friend. "Do something, Bonnie!" she pleads, muscles quivering from holding up Matt, but the grip she has on him suggests that she's never going to let go.
"She can't," Tyler says, and he sounds so empty Caroline shivers. "He's as good as dead."
Stop-shut up, please, no more, Tyler, stop, no. Her blue eyes snap open. "Klaus."
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"Paris, Stefan?"
Stefan shrugs, setting his tumbler down on the dark mahogany of the bar. "She's always wanted to come."
"With you and Damon, of all people." The hybrid shakes his head, downing yet another drink in one gulp.
"Me and Damon," Stefan repeats agreeably, if only to fill the air around them with words. Klaus' dancing fingers cast shadows on the bar top and the lights burn with a stronger intensity as thunder rumbles the windowpanes of the bar. He's not sure why he's there for the second day in a row, but he does know why he didn't turn down Klaus' offer of Let me buy you a drink.
He's not stupid. He hasn't forgotten.
Stefan's still shaking out rain droplets from his hair, but Klaus looks as dry as if he'd strolled inside on a sunny day. Sitting next to Stefan, he looks every bit the dark prince to Stefan's white knight.
"How long have you stayed here?" Klaus asks, and there's a little too much saccharine in his voice, too much teeth in his smile. Stefan just mutters a reply ("A few years, give or take."). He's not uncomfortable in the hybrid's presence-he's just tired of waiting around for whatever bomb that Klaus is bound to drop.
"Did you enjoy Italy?"
Stefan's eyes narrow. "How did you…"
Klaus just motions for another drink, continuing, "And a few years in New York before that, and then there was Munich and - just a few weeks in Tokyo?" His lips twist into a smirk. "Couldn't handle the sashimi?"
Stefan takes a measured sip of his drink and doesn't answer. He swallows with difficulty-his throat's turned to cotton.
"Did you ever find what you were looking for?" Klaus tilts his glass to look down on the whiskey inside, the amber liquid threatening to spill but never does. "Obviously not. Must be why you're in Paris, aren't you? To try again?"
There's something about his voice… "You know." Stefan's knuckles are white.
"Of course I know, Stefan," Klaus sneers. "You didn't think I spent the last hundred years in a coffin, did you?"
Stefan doesn't ask how he knows - because let's face it: Klaus always knows - and instead chooses to ask, "Why now?"
"Why do you think?"
He doesn't answer immediately; mulls it over with his scotch, but then-his eyes widen, his fingers slip, and his drink spills over the lip of the glass. "No."
Klaus' smile only widens.
"Goddamnit Klaus." Stefan grinds his teeth together and nudges his glass away, eyes boring holes into Klaus'. "What do you want?"
"Caroline," the hybrid replies simply.
"I tried that, she doesn't want anything to do with you," Stefan hisses. "Not after what you've do-"
"Not after what you asked me to do," Klaus corrects, the threat in his voice looming over them and spreading a chill through the oak-paneled room. "Or have you forgotten the little deal we had a hundred years ago? As I recall-vampires never forget."
"No," Stefan says stiffly, wishing the bar would just swallow the hybrid whole. "I remember."
"Caroline doesn't know, does she?" Klaus' look of satisfaction changes to a smug one when Stefan shakes his head 'no', glaring the whole time. "Unless you want Caroline finding out her dearStefan isn't as sacred as she once thought, you're going to bring her to me."
Stefan knows how this goes, he's been a pawn in Klaus' games more times than he can remember, but he finds it in himself to challenge: "And if I don't?"
"I'll kill the doppelganger myself." Klaus drains his drink and sweeps out of the room, and Stefan lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in.
When he's sure Klaus is out of earshot, he pulls out his cell phone. "Come on, Damon," he mutters as the dial tone fills his ear. "Where the hell are you?"
.
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circa 2013
"You found me." Damon grins up at a sympathetic Caroline, his tie gone and his suit wrinkled. There's icing smeared in his right fist and a nearly empty bottle of scotch in his left. She tries not to notice the red rims around his eyes or the smell of alcohol coming off of him in waves or the way he doesn't even try to sit up anymore-she just gently pries his fingers off the bottle and sits next to him, her dress falling softly around her ankles.
"You smell like the sun," Damon mumbles happily, drunkenly, as he lets his head fall onto Caroline's shoulder. "Can I have that back now?"
"Not a chance." Caroline holds the bottle out of Damon's reach and leans back against the damp bricks of the courthouse. She wipes away the smears of cake from Damon's chin and lifts it up. "This is pretty pathetic, even for you."
Damon grunts a reply and turns away. "It's totally expected of me, though. You gotta admit."
"Yeah, I guess it kind of is," she says, sighing. "It was a beautiful reception, Damon. I wish you could've been there."
"I was there," Damon insists weakly, and makes a swipe for his drink. Caroline doesn't resist this time, and Damon takes a tumble against her lap, where he stays.
"Not the way I would've liked you to," Caroline says evenly. She runs feather light circles in his hair, and feels him exhale through the material of her pale yellow dress. "Not the way she would have liked."
"Enough, Caroline," Damon says, and closes his eyes. "Just… don't. Not now. Not ever. Stefan's already given me the tough luck pep talk."
Caroline says nothing. Flowers fall from trees, and the late autumn sun cast halos around them as they gaze out at the lake. If Tyler were here, she thinks, he would've liked it.
If Tyler were here, he would have let her pull him to the dance floor, joined her in making fun of Alaric's dopey proud-papa smile, twirled her again and again and again until they both forget how to breathe.
But he's not, and the only person who'd actually asked her to dance had also been the person no one had bothered to invite. That never stopped Klaus from coming, lingering in the corner like the creep he is, burning holes in the back of Caroline's head throughout the whole ceremony.
If Tyler were here, he'd tell him to fuck off and let them have this one moment of happiness.
If Tyler were here.
"Do you…" she begins tentatively, fingers still in Damon's hair. "Do you think Tyler's alright?"
"I'm sure he is, Blondie." He's closing her eyes as she plays with his hair, and she decides she likes Damon this way-not the whole "woe is me, life sucks then you die" part, but the parts where they actually talk and he smiles and they have a moment Stefan deems worthy to journal about.
"I miss him," she says quietly.
"I know." There's a pause. "Sorry for making Stefan crush you to the ground that one time."
"God, that feels like forever ago." Caroline feels the corners of her lips quirk up into a faraway smile. "I'm over it."
"And for going all Rambo on Tyler in the woods."
"Oh, trust me," she says, and bites down hard on her lower lip to stop the hot prickling in the corners of her eyes. "That's not the worse of my problems."
"Then what is?"
Again, she doesn't answer immediately. She gazes out over the water once again, before looking down at Damon. "Do you ever want to just run away?"
Damon's breath is warm and even against her lap, so she knows he's considering-really considering-her question. "All the time," he says after a while.
.
Caroline blinks, still in a haze of dreams and goose down pillows. She brushes some hair out of her mouth and tries to sit up, the dark sky casting strange shadows across her bedroom wall as the rain pounds down around her. Nestling back into the sheets, she curls herself into a ball-her default position these days-and concentrates on the sound of rain. It feels intimate on so many levels, but for some reason she can't draw any coziness from the room. Her eyes trail to her bedside table where her MacBook Lighter Than Air v3.0 (talk about original) is resting. She'd been watching Roman Holiday-because it's been so long since she'd dreamt up a fairytale for herself-but the movie's over and the screensaver on her laptop is flashing on.
Tyler appears on screen, and she knows if Stefan were here he'd just shake his head or something.
"I forgot how fit that boy was."
Caroline jumps a mile, a shriek ripping from her lips, and she looks around the room wildly to see Rebekah outlined in silver against her window.
"H-how'd you get in?" she asks, hoping Rebekah doesn't notice the tremor in her voice.
Rebekah traipses across the room, nonchalantly tracing a finger against Caroline's sheet thread count and studying random knick knacks. "I compelled your landlord to sign over the lease to your apartment," she says easily. "Actually, I don't think I even had to compel him, but I was short on time."
Oh shit, Caroline swallows. "You could have called ahead, like any sane person would do. A hello in advance would have been nice."
"I figured I'd surprise you, love." Rebekah nudges Caroline's closet door closed with her foot. "For old time's sake."
Sighing, Caroline traipses out of bed and flips the lights on-golden light floods the room. "Why are you here?"
"It seems my brother's desperate to get a hold of you." Rebekah rolls her eyes, folding herself with easy grace into Caroline's rocking chair, crossing her legs. "It took my ingenuity to get you alone, of course."
Scoffing, Caroline blows her bangs out of her eyes. "That wasn't ingenuity-Damon had errands to run and Stefan's at work. It's called routine."
"So routine would bring them home at about… what time exactly?"
Caroline decides to humour her. "If you had any ounce of Erin Brokovich in you, you'd know they're usually back by n…" Her voice trails off as she realizes it's half past six, and they're supposed to be back two hours ago.
Rebekah's grin widens. "Exactly. Apparently Damon got sidetracked, and Stefan… well, he's having a drink with Nik."
"God, if Damon's hitting on that butcher girl aga-" Caroline starts to splutter, but stops. "Wait. Stefan's with Klaus?"
"Oh, yes. You see, Klaus has Stefan crushed in the palm of his hand as expected, but it's you we're worried about." Rebekah's smile twitches as she reaches for her handbag by her feet. "You and your stubborn little head. So I came bearing gifts."
She tosses a silver box at Caroline, who catches it deftly. She keeps her expression neutral as she lifts the lid off the box-but can't quite stop her eyes from widening. She always did have a weakness for Chanel. "I-wow."
"Wow indeed. Cost a right fortune, too." Rebekah stands and heads for the window. "Mind you wear that tonight, won't you love?"
"Wear… wait-what?"
"Don't worry, Stefan will fill you in," Rebekah smirks. She looks around the room one last time, and says, despite herself: "I don't think I need to remind you to be careful, Caroline. You do know my brother better than most people do."
"Whatever, thanks for the unsolicited advice." Caroline raises an eyebrow expectantly. "Now leave."
The air in the room changes, and Rebekah takes a step back from the window. Caroline tries not to gulp, but how does one act accordingly when an Original takes a menacing step towards you?
"We used to have such fun together, Caroline." Rebekah's smile leaves and is replaced by a stony expression-so much like Klaus, Caroline notes, a little struck. "What happened?"
A lot of things, she wants to say. You leaving. Your half-assed goodbye. You choosing Klaus. You choosing him again and again and again disregarding everything he's done to us-to me. But Caroline takes a deep breath and says instead, "Your brother ruined the boy I loved. You left with him. That's what happened."
Rebekah narrows her eyes. "You left too, and you took Damon and Stefan with you. At least I had the decency to say goodbye."
"Oh, don't pretend like you actually care," Caroline snorts. "Just-I have no plans on getting entangled in this stupid scheme you and Klaus are cooking up. And I think you're overstaying your visit, if we can even call it that."
Rebekah doesn't respond, just makes her way back to the window. Before she actually leaves, she turns around one last time.
"And Caroline," Rebekah notes a little sadly, "he was only ever just a boy."
She's gone before Caroline can slam the window in her face.
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tbc
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