it wasn't going to be okay
Title: it wasn't going to be okay
Pairing: Stefan/Caroline
Warnings: Angst. Sex.
Summary: "I'm leaving town and I think you should come with me." For softly_me at her waxing poetic comment ficathon.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Note: This is for the darkship table prompt it's just skin.
She finds him at the ruins of the old Salvatore home, sitting in the dirt and dead leaves. Stefan closes his eyes and bites his tongue when she plops down beside him, preparing himself for whatever platitudes and reassurances Caroline is going to offer. He is beyond absolution, even if she doesn't see that.
Her soft, "I'm leaving town and I think you should come with me," actually shocks him.
He says, "Okay," without thinking and surprises himself.
--
"Do you blame yourself?"
"Yes." He looks at her, her face illuminated by the dashboard lights. "For what?"
She makes a noise that might be a laugh. "Everything. I mean, I know it all boils down to Klaus, and to Katherine, but if you hadn't saved Elena..."
"She would have died," Stefan points out when Caroline trails off.
"And a bunch of other people wouldn't have," she returns, eyes on the road, and yes, of course Stefan blames himself.
It doesn't mean that he would take it back.
"Do you blame me?" he asks a minute, maybe an hour later.
She looks over at him for the first time. He can hear the band of her ring tapping against the steering wheel. "Sometimes."
--
"It's my fault Tyler's dead," she says from the passenger seat, the bottle she's been drinking from sloshing.
Stefan never noticed before that Caroline is a maudlin drunk. Maybe she wasn't before. Maybe he just wasn't paying attention.
"I think you need to sleep it off."
She doesn't argue, doesn't say another word, and he is grateful for that.
Because really, Stefan knows it's his fault that Tyler is dead (and Vicki and Jenna and Alaric and so, so many others), but he doesn't think that now is the time to bring it up. Not when Caroline is full of vodka and self-loathing.
And really, neither of them is holding it together all that well.
--
They spend weeks driving aimlessly, wasting time (they have all the time in the world) and gas, until Caroline declares, "This is it," when they drive into a little tourist town on one of the Great Lakes. She finds a house with too many bedrooms and its own dock, and Stefan makes up his mind to go along with whatever she wants.
His resolve falters when she slips into his bed that night.
"Caroline," he says, soft and warning even as she presses closer to him.
"Shh," she murmurs, her lips against his throat. "I don't want to sleep alone tonight."
He should make her go, should tell her that sleeping in his bed won't make her feel any better in the long run. He should tell her the truth, all of it, even though it will hurt.
Stefan closes his eyes, wraps his arm around her, and pulls the blankets up over their bodies.
--
Caroline comes home one night covered in blood and dirt, just walks through the back door into the kitchen with bare feet and dry eyes.
"I messed up," she says softly, and Stefan holds his breath.
He leads her into the bathroom, peels her ruined clothes from her filthy skin and pushes her beneath the spray of the shower, climbs in with her when she just stands frozen with her hands at her sides. "I didn't mean to," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of water hitting the tiles.
"We never do," Stefan lies, combing his fingers through her bloody hair, watching the pink water sluice over her skin and down the drain.
She is still naked when comes into his room later, crawling into his bed, her hips pressing to his and her lips against his jaw before he can stop her.
"Caroline."
"Shut up," she says, voice catching. "Please shut up." Her hand slips between their bodies, pushes beneath the band of his pants to wrap around his length. "Just bodies, Stefan." She bites down on his earlobe with blunt teeth, rolls her hips against his thigh. "Just skin."
She's his best friend and it's a terrible idea, but Stefan lets her push him onto his back, lets her take whatever she needs. He gives her what she's saying she needs without using the words because it is the least he can do for her after everything.
Caroline is quiet, all gasps and breathless whimpers, her fingertips grasping at his skin as she moves over him. She buries her face in his neck when she comes, her breath hot and her hair sticking to his sweaty skin.
He smooths his hands up and down her back, letting his fingers tangle in her hair when she tucks herself into his side. This is probably wrong, but it's easy to rationalize the behavior. If this keeps Caroline from losing control again, from feeling the way that she does now again, this is what Stefan will do.
--
"Will this get easier?" she asks, a ghost of a conversation they once had in another lifetime. "Living with it?"
Stefan looks at her, her hair golden in the sunlight, her toes skimming the surface of the water as she sits on the edge of the dock, and he wants to lie, to tell her that everything will be all right even though he thinks that it never will.
"Maybe," he finally answers, and maybe, if they both want it enough, it will be the truth.
Pairing: Stefan/Caroline
Warnings: Angst. Sex.
Summary: "I'm leaving town and I think you should come with me." For softly_me at her waxing poetic comment ficathon.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Note: This is for the darkship table prompt it's just skin.
She finds him at the ruins of the old Salvatore home, sitting in the dirt and dead leaves. Stefan closes his eyes and bites his tongue when she plops down beside him, preparing himself for whatever platitudes and reassurances Caroline is going to offer. He is beyond absolution, even if she doesn't see that.
Her soft, "I'm leaving town and I think you should come with me," actually shocks him.
He says, "Okay," without thinking and surprises himself.
--
"Do you blame yourself?"
"Yes." He looks at her, her face illuminated by the dashboard lights. "For what?"
She makes a noise that might be a laugh. "Everything. I mean, I know it all boils down to Klaus, and to Katherine, but if you hadn't saved Elena..."
"She would have died," Stefan points out when Caroline trails off.
"And a bunch of other people wouldn't have," she returns, eyes on the road, and yes, of course Stefan blames himself.
It doesn't mean that he would take it back.
"Do you blame me?" he asks a minute, maybe an hour later.
She looks over at him for the first time. He can hear the band of her ring tapping against the steering wheel. "Sometimes."
--
"It's my fault Tyler's dead," she says from the passenger seat, the bottle she's been drinking from sloshing.
Stefan never noticed before that Caroline is a maudlin drunk. Maybe she wasn't before. Maybe he just wasn't paying attention.
"I think you need to sleep it off."
She doesn't argue, doesn't say another word, and he is grateful for that.
Because really, Stefan knows it's his fault that Tyler is dead (and Vicki and Jenna and Alaric and so, so many others), but he doesn't think that now is the time to bring it up. Not when Caroline is full of vodka and self-loathing.
And really, neither of them is holding it together all that well.
--
They spend weeks driving aimlessly, wasting time (they have all the time in the world) and gas, until Caroline declares, "This is it," when they drive into a little tourist town on one of the Great Lakes. She finds a house with too many bedrooms and its own dock, and Stefan makes up his mind to go along with whatever she wants.
His resolve falters when she slips into his bed that night.
"Caroline," he says, soft and warning even as she presses closer to him.
"Shh," she murmurs, her lips against his throat. "I don't want to sleep alone tonight."
He should make her go, should tell her that sleeping in his bed won't make her feel any better in the long run. He should tell her the truth, all of it, even though it will hurt.
Stefan closes his eyes, wraps his arm around her, and pulls the blankets up over their bodies.
--
Caroline comes home one night covered in blood and dirt, just walks through the back door into the kitchen with bare feet and dry eyes.
"I messed up," she says softly, and Stefan holds his breath.
He leads her into the bathroom, peels her ruined clothes from her filthy skin and pushes her beneath the spray of the shower, climbs in with her when she just stands frozen with her hands at her sides. "I didn't mean to," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of water hitting the tiles.
"We never do," Stefan lies, combing his fingers through her bloody hair, watching the pink water sluice over her skin and down the drain.
She is still naked when comes into his room later, crawling into his bed, her hips pressing to his and her lips against his jaw before he can stop her.
"Caroline."
"Shut up," she says, voice catching. "Please shut up." Her hand slips between their bodies, pushes beneath the band of his pants to wrap around his length. "Just bodies, Stefan." She bites down on his earlobe with blunt teeth, rolls her hips against his thigh. "Just skin."
She's his best friend and it's a terrible idea, but Stefan lets her push him onto his back, lets her take whatever she needs. He gives her what she's saying she needs without using the words because it is the least he can do for her after everything.
Caroline is quiet, all gasps and breathless whimpers, her fingertips grasping at his skin as she moves over him. She buries her face in his neck when she comes, her breath hot and her hair sticking to his sweaty skin.
He smooths his hands up and down her back, letting his fingers tangle in her hair when she tucks herself into his side. This is probably wrong, but it's easy to rationalize the behavior. If this keeps Caroline from losing control again, from feeling the way that she does now again, this is what Stefan will do.
--
"Will this get easier?" she asks, a ghost of a conversation they once had in another lifetime. "Living with it?"
Stefan looks at her, her hair golden in the sunlight, her toes skimming the surface of the water as she sits on the edge of the dock, and he wants to lie, to tell her that everything will be all right even though he thinks that it never will.
"Maybe," he finally answers, and maybe, if they both want it enough, it will be the truth.