She keeps a notebook with her questions, divided into three parts—one for the easy questions, one for the hard questions, and one for the questions she can only bring herself to ask Elena. The notebook helps her keep track of what's important, because every time she thinks she might have run out of questions she thinks of another one. (In the first weeks after she turned she asked whatever was in her head to whichever vampire was closest until Damon threatened to stake her and Stefan started to get this little resigned smile every time he saw her and she decided there had to be a better way to do this.)
Now, she asks the easy questions when she's bored, or when she can't concentrate in biology (vampire hearing makes it almost pathetically easy to carry on a near silent conversation) or when Damon is just buzzed enough to be patient.
The hard questions she saves until she and Stefan are alone, when the taste of blood still lingers on her tongue and she can still feel the thrumming pulse of life like a buzzing in her veins. She waits until the darkness covers the sticky spots of blood which coat her fingers, until Stefan's eyes are only a glimmer in the dark beside her, their backs to the pine needled floor as they watch the stars through the gaps in the trees. Sometimes his answers take a while to come; sometimes she hears the pain that soften his tone, catches on the end of his words. But he is always honest with her. She holds his hand so hard her fingers creak but Stefan doesn't break and her tears fall silent into her hair.
And then there are the questions she will only ask Elena, because even though she knows Stefan will answer any question she has she just can't bring herself to ask him how sex is different as a vampire. (Not that Elena's much help with this question—"I've only been with Matt and Stefan and I wasn't in love with Matt so…" and Caroline decides there are some questions she will have to answer on her own.)
Today's question goes to Damon, in part because Stefan is busy and in part because this might be the stupidest question she has ever asked and Damon's biting sarcasm might just make this go down easier. She finds him in the parlor of the boardinghouse halfway through a bottle of bourbon. He's not drunk (Damon has a ridiculously high tolerance level) but when he smirks instead of rolling his eyes, she figures it might be the perfect time to ask.
"Can I get a haircut?"
To his credit, Damon doesn't blink. "I don't know Caroline," he says with exaggerated sweetness, and there's a twinkle in his eye she doesn't really like, "can you?"
She rolls her eyes, because god, he really is the most annoying older brother she's never had, and steals the blood bag she knows he was planning on having for snack. He makes a swipe at her but she's across the room before he gets close and she grins. It's not often she gets to win.
"I thought you were on the bunny diet," he scowls, and she shrugs.
"I'm a part timer," she tells him, and the first lukewarm sip is heavenly. "And I'm serious."
He eyes her over the rim of the bottle. "Me too Barbie."
"Damon." It comes out with a lot more whine than she intended and she wondered when she started to sound like a petulant younger sibling. They are so not related. "I mean, if I get a haircut, is it like, never going to grow again? Because a bob might be cute now, but I mean, what if I get sick of it in ten years and I can never change it?"
"Wear a wig," he advises, and it takes all of the control Stefan taught her and then some not to just launch across the room and sink her teeth into his neck. (She does fling the empty blood bag at his head though. If she's going to play the younger sister, she might as well make it authentic.)
"Dead people's hair doesn't grow Damon. I don't want to be stuck in a shitty hairstyle for the rest of my life." She doesn't mention that she has a hair appointment that afternoon, one she made months ago, and that her tummy feels kind of fluttery and her palms are kind of sweaty and she really kind of wants her mom, because this is a stupid, stupid thing to be nervous about and Damon already thinks she's weak.
"Dead people don't often talk or steal other people's snacks, but you seem to have no problem doing either." He takes another swig, then shrugs. "Get your haircut if you want. You think Stefan always looked this pretty?"
She doesn't say anything, because she really sort of expected this response, but it doesn't make her feel any better. She leaves without a thanks because she and Damon don't really do polite, but she hasn't made it to the front door when she runs into a wall of black t-shirt and exasperation. She wonders when he'll learn about personal space.
"Want company?" he asks and it's so unexpected that she just sort of stares at him and its only when he puts his finger under her chin and scowls that she realizes her mouth is open.
"Flies, blondie," he advises. "I know Stefan's all about the animals but bugs aren't worth it, trust me."
"Where?"
"The pet store," he says, and his sigh is all exaggerated patience and too much sarcasm.
"What?" She feels like she's having a conversation only Damon understands, but when he rolls his eyes and says "the hair salon Carebear, where did you think?" the only suitable answer she can come up with is "why?"
"Because I'm bored and you're pathetically transparent." Before she can respond he adds "me and now, by the way, in case you were going to ask more stupid questions."
"Okay," she says, and decides to ignore the transparent comment and she's not sure who's more surprised right now, but he just says "okay" in return and tells her he'll meet her outside.
She drives, and the ride is awkward and silent and she fiddles with the radio and pays careful attention to her ten-and-two hand position because it occurs to her she's never really been alone with him since she thought she loved him and Damon doesn't really do small talk.
At the salon, he introduces himself before she can speak, and even though she's been going there since she was six they don't question when Damon says he's her brother and that she's nervous about her first haircut and can he hold her hand please?
He takes a seat across the salon while she gets her hair washed and she finds it hard not to laugh at the image of him sitting between two old women in foils and flowered dresses. He waggles his eyebrows at her when she glances at him and even though he looks completely stupid and she also sort of hates him it makes her laugh and the fluttery feeling kind of goes away and she doesn't feel like she wants to throw up so much anymore.
When the first snip leaves a golden curl on the floor she squeezes her eyes tight and tries not to wince at the flare of panic that spikes up in her chest.
"Tell you what Barbie, you open your eyes for the rest of this, and I'll dye my hair pink."
His voice is right next to her ear and she jumps, eyes opening involuntarily. He's in the unused chair next to her, spinning idly in a slow circle, carefully inspecting the rows of brushes filling the station's counter. The hairstylist who works at the station is watching him with the sort of wide eyed awe Caroline is all too afraid she used to wear and it makes her feel sad and strong all at once.
"You," she tells him with a delicate sniff, "are a blatant liar. It's an unattractive look for you."
He scoffs. "Babe, I have no unattractive looks."
That one gets her. "Babe? Seriously?"
She can't see him now, head tilted forward, but she can imagine his expression—innocence and mischievousness, but his tone is flat, affected boredom. "Barbie was getting old."
"Like you?"
If he answers, she can't hear him over the sudden roar of the hairdryer, and she closes her eyes against the warmth on her face. Whatever the stylist is using to tame the waves smells really good and she just sort of lets herself relax. She has been keeping track of her successes and failures since becoming a vampire (killing people gets her -5000 points, drinking bunnies get her +6) and she counts today's haircut at +2 points. (She's nowhere close to being balanced but today tips the scale ever so slightly in a positive direction, and if she combines it with the hunting she's planning with Stefan later, she'll end up with at least an +8 for the day. And if she counts not stabbing Damon, she's probably looking at a solid +10, which is actually pretty good. Missing geometry so she didn't eat Rachel Tompkins a couple of days ago cost her about 50 points, and she has some ground to make up.)
Damon steals her keys as her stylist is finishing up, and she heads to the front to pay.
"No need," the secretary says, "your brother got it." She's not sure what to make of that, or of the bill she sees her stylist tuck into the pocket on her apron, and Caroline decides to deduct 2 points for not understanding Damon at all. When she gets to the car he's in the passenger seat, leaned all the way back, radio blasting.
His appraisal is thorough, but Caroline is used to his stares, and she's pretty sure she's immune to him at this point. "Nice," is all he says before he asks her to drop him at the grill. There isn't really a need to respond, so they drive in silence.
"Thanks," she tells him right before he leaves. "For, you know, the afternoon."
He pats her hand, and his smirk is openly mocking. "Sure thing doll."
She grabs his wrist before he can get out, and pulls him back so she can see his eyes. "I'm serious Damon," she tells him. "Thank you."
He's silent for a moment, and she thinks she can almost see something behind his eyes. It's not quite caring, but it's not mocking either, and he's not Stefan which makes him almost impossible to read, but it's something. She wonders if this is what Elena sees.
Then he shrugs, and her hand falls away from his wrist and he's just Damon again. "Yeah well, whatever. I was bored, you were pathetic. Go bug Stefan next time, huh?" He's gone before she can respond.