(All this bad blood here, won't you let it dry?
It's been cold for years, won't you let it lie?)
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.
.
I still care about you, she says.
I'm sorry, she says.
Damon, I'm so sorry, she says.
Take care of yourself, she says.
He tries.
And he fails.
.
.
.
"Do you want to hear something funny?", Stefan asks, walking inside their living room for the first time in five years or so.
"No", Damon answers. He doesn't even look at him, he just raises the flask to his mouth and his hand shakes a little, spilling drops of scotch all over the carpet. Not a big deal at this point, since the only thing in the room not totally wrenched is the fireplace in front of him.
"Caroline almost convinced me to steal a Christmas tree on my way back home", Stefan continues anyway. "She said it would've improved our home. She was certainly right", he observes, carefully making his way to the couch through pieces of broken furniture on the floor.
Damon grins.
"Sorry", he offers.
"You really should find another way to appease yourself, brother, or soon or later we'll be homeless", Stefan sighs, joining him on the couch. Damon offers him the flask, and Stefan take a long sip before returning it.
For a while they just keep drinking, contemplating the perfect, unnatural silence between them and waiting to get drunk enough to break it.
"Are you gonna ask?", Damon finally inquires.
"I think I already know the answer", Stefan says. He knows that only two people can upset his brother like this, and since he didn't do anything, it has to be Elena. And even if time has almost completely healed the scar, he's not going to have a heart-to-heart conversation with him about their relationship. It would still end in blood.
"Where's our Christmas tree, then?", Damon saves him by quickly changing subject.
"Why, so you can crash it too?", Stefan taints, smiling a little. "I said she almost convinced me. I refused. I thought it would've feel... awkward, I suppose."
"Why, we could've sing Jingle Bells in front of it and gift each other a free meeting with a good psychiatrist."
"That's exactly what I was talking about", Stefan scoffs, still smiling. "I didn't want to give you the chance to ruin Christmas."
"I don't want to ruin Christmas. We don't ruin Christmas, right?"
Right. It's funny, honestly. They've ruined almost everything during the last century and half (what about killing best friends on their birthday and stuff like that), but never Christmas. It's not like they have a rule about it ― if they did, they would've broken it just because, that's for sure ― it just... never happened. Well, perhaps it's because they've never spent a Christmas together since... forever (where forever stands for I'm already too drunk to remember and honestly who cares), but whatever. It's still a thing. They just failed to realize it was a thing until now, and it's kinda nice to find out that after all there's still something intact for them. It's more than nice, actually. It's amazing.
So, knowing themselves, they avoid to discuss it to the bitter end, and Stefan hands over his flask when Damon's runs out.
"Let's just get drunk", he says.
And they both knows that Damon's already drunk enough, but he agrees anyway.
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.
.
"You remember how you used to call me when you were a toddler?"
"I do have a good memory, Damon, but that's asking a little too much."
"Emo."
"...Emo?"
"Yep. Emo. And stop laughing, it's not funny."
"It is. I never realized I could see the future."
"You can't. Unless you are talking about your own future, because you're the emo here."
"...you are not making any sense, Damon."
"I wasn't trying. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that you were able to say dad, and you were able to say mom, so how hard could've it be for you to put the two words together and say Da-mo-n? You just refused to do it. You were already a pain in the ass, you see?"
"Maybe I didn't refused to do it. Maybe I just liked my nickname more."
"I didn't."
"Well, you call me Stef and you never asked if I like it."
"Because it's your name!"
"It's part of it. So was emo. And anyway you better hope I don't remember this conversation tomorrow."
Damon laughs.
He needed this. He knows he needed this. And for a moment he doesn't even care that Stefan knows that he needed this.
"Welcome back, brother", he greets him, before he could forget again to do it.
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.
.
The next morning both of them have to deal with the mother of all the headache, but it's not the first time and surely not the last, so it's okay. Kind of.
Damon groans, crashing down on a chair and bending forward to rest his forehead against the kitchen counter while waiting for his brother to fill his mug with hot, blessed coffee.
"Never again."
"Mh", Stefan agrees.
"Christmas is abolished."
"Mh."
"I mean it."
"Mh-mh."
"Fuck you, Stefan."
"I was just trying to keep you from destroying my house, don't be such an emo about it, Damon", Stefan retorts, bravely grinning at his brother's threatening glare.
It's not the best restart, but it's not the worst either.
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- Idk, they're not giving me Defan fluff so I'm giving myself Defan fluff for Christmas. And I honestly can't stand the triangle anymore, so. English is not my first language, so if you spot any mistakes please let me know, I'll appreciate it.
- Title and lyrics by Bastille.
- Written for the maritombola challenge maridichallenge, prompt "Riguardati" (Take care of yourself)