A/N: Instead of doing research for my thesis, I wrote an original one-shot inspired by Imogen Heap's Between Sheets. Then I adapted the story for all you Forwood fans out there. I hope you enjoy!
She wakes up to the feel of sunlight on her skin and the low rumble of Tyler's laughter on her shoulder. Bolting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she surveys her surroundings with a glare. She asks for the time, and he responds by pulling her down to his chest.
Her eyes are always puffy in the morning. Her tongue is in its final stages of decomposing, having forgotten to brush her teeth the previous night. And as she is yet unaccustomed to waking up next to him with nothing between her body and the rumpled sheets around her, she is at her most vulnerable.
But here she is, laughing and struggling in his grasp. He lets her go when her phone starts ringing and she kicks lightly at his shin.
She thinks she's in trouble. She grabs her phone from where it lays on the nightstand, turns her back to him and answers it. Her mom drills her with the usual questions—where she went out last night, who she was with, what time was she coming back to the house—and when she seems satisfied with her answers, she hangs up. She's surprised that her mom didn't sound too mad when she told her she spent the night at the Lockwood's. She runs a hand through the knots in her hair and tries to ignore how the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end when he says her name.
She tells him she has to leave soon, but doesn't move to find her clothes. Her mind has not caught up with the rest of her body as it jumbles from one memory to another. She probably had the most fun she's ever had in her life last night, and it was all thanks to him.
His hand makes contact with her arm and she tenses. His touch always does that to her. She asks him to let her go so she can use the bathroom. Of course, he does not do as he is told.
"Hey, look at me," he says softly. When she shakes her head, he pulls her down to the mattress. "C'mon, Caroline," he teases, trying to pry off the hands covering her face.
"I feel horrible," she groans.
He presses his body against hers. "Really now?"
"Okay, I don't feel horrible. I feel great, actually. But I'm gross. My breath smells bad."
He laughs and manages to get one hand off of her face. "So does mine. I don't know anyone who wakes up in the morning with breath smelling like roses."
She rolls her eyes at him. "Okay. Whatever."
He gets the other hand off, pins her wrists above her head, and gets a good, long look at her. Her hair is a mess. She still has makeup on from last night. Her nose is a little shiny, and her tongue darts out every now and then to wet her chapped lips. Her eyes are searching his face wildly for any sign of dislike.
"You look fine," he says. He would have gone with 'gorgeous,' but she probably wouldn't believe him.
She relaxes a little, and he pecks her on the lips. "Breakfast?" he asks.
When she nods instead of saying anything, he tickles her sides, and the laughter she's been holding in bursts out as they sink down the mattress.
Her stomach is full (Tyler is nice enough to keep a few bags of…her type of food…in his room's refrigerator), her face is scrubbed clean, and her mouth smells of mint. She's wearing one of his favorite shirts and her shorts from last night. She looks around his room for her purse only to find it hanging from his shoulder.
She saunters up to him and makes a grab for her purse. He just holds it above her head. She is not going to jump up and reach for it like an idiot, so she wraps her arms around his torso and tells him in a low voice that she's not going to feel guilty about kicking him where it really hurts. She takes a step back and nudges his thigh with her knee, hoping he'll take the hint. His eyes widen as he quickly drops her purse onto her open palm. She laughs as she slings the strap on her shoulder and adjusts the sleeve of her shirt.
Correction. His shirt.
When she's done, she knots the shirt at her right hip and thanks him.
He thinks the drive back to her house is too quiet. When he fidgets with the radio for the hundredth time, she laces her hand with his. "I like this song," she says, and hums along as he slows down and lets the other cars pass by them.
"Your mom is going to kill me when they find you spent the night with me," he says when the song finishes.
She gives him an incredulous look. "She already knows, remember? I told her on the phone earlier. And she likes you."
"And when she finds out I've corrupted you, she and the whole sheriff's department are going to bring out the torches and pitchforks and hunt me down."
"Don't worry," she laughs. "I'm not going to let them hurt you."
He shakes his head and she starts tracing random patterns on the back of his hand with her thumb. "She does like you, you know? After everything you've done for me, I don't see why she wouldn't," she says. "You helped me make her understand that I'm still her daughter. You told her about what happened to Mason, about what happened after you first transformed."
"You loosened me up, taught me it's okay to have fun again," she continues. "You don't act weird around me knowing what I am and what I'm capable of. You kept me going even though I was ready to give up and run away from here."
He smiles at her and she hides her face behind her hair. "Good to know, Care," he replies as he focuses on the road again.
Her thumb stills when another song starts playing on the radio, and this time she belts out the lyrics shamelessly. He pulls all the windows down so the rest of Mystic Falls can hear her.
When he thinks of spending the rest of his life like this with her, he doesn't fight the feeling of lightness in his chest.
She holds onto him a little longer than she should have. When he asks her what's wrong, she just kisses him. He pulls back and asks her again. She just shakes her head and smiles.
She's crumbling inside, though. He's good to her and she's good to him, but sooner or later, they'll have to go back to what they were doing before. Her kind and his have never been on good terms. She thinks of the future, and she can't tell if he'll be in hers for the long run or not. She brushes the thought from her mind and kisses him again.
He asks her about her plans next week. When she tells him she intends to spend her week between sheets with him, he spins her around and kisses her forehead.
He waves at her as he drives off, and the goose bumps on her skin refuse to go away.