Author's Note: I wanted to publish this in hopes that it will get me out of my funk. Not as good as I want it to be, but I'm so excited for all of you to read it. As always, all mistakes are mine. Standard disclaimers apply. Leave me a review!

O N E

They're in the Salvatore boarding house, lounging in the couch eating microwave popcorn, his head on her lap, back to her.

A paperback copy of The Garden of Eden is kept open by her left hand while the other continues to play with his hair.

He's fallen asleep several minutes ago, his hands folded together under her leg.

Earlier, as he was watching Animal Planet, he kept biting playfully on the skin under his cheek and then proceeding to plant a kiss at the glaring red spot against her white skin.

She's noticed how playful he is with her, how he constantly touches her - a hand on her knee, on her cheek, on her side - always touching.

In the morning, when she can't tell her limbs from his, his palm is always on her - thumbs brushing a small circle on the skin beside her breast, on the blush on her cheek, or wrapped around her tiny hand.

In the morning, just before she's fully awake, she already has a smile on her lips.

When they're waiting in line to watch a movie or to pick up their morning coffee before she heads for school, he always plants a kiss on her shoulder, his hands on her waist. And when she moves to leave, his lips tickle her ear as he says take care.

She can tell that he likes it when she hugs his arm to her chest and rests her head on his shoulder when their hands are clasped together as they walk. She can tell that he has a big smile on because the people they meet have it reflected on their face. She can tell because she hears a contented sigh every few seconds, his nose burrowing into her hair.

When they're having dinner with friends, or even just the two of them, he keeps a hand on the small of her back as he pulls out her chair. He kisses the top of her head when she sits.

She feels him start to wake as the credits roll, pulling himself up from his place on her hip.

His droopy eyes barely open while he repositions himself on her side, nodding into the space under the side of her jaw.

His lips touch her neck and he mumbles an inaudible love you.

She reads one final line before she decides to go to bed.

"I'm with you. No matter what else you have in your head I'm with you and I love you."

And she falls asleep agreeing to every word.

T W O

She's surprised when she learns how fast he is in the shower. Because, duh, you don't towel off and look like that. But, against all logic, he walks out of the bathroom after ten minutes looking like t h e Stefan Salvatore, in all his hero hair glory.

As the steam spreads across the room, she inhales his scent: like coffee and home.

In the days when she has to stay in her dorm, she can tell he's there because of his smell on her pillow. And right as she's about to hoist herself up from her bed, she watches him poke his head in through the door, eyes peeking above a bouquet of white peonies.

One time, he decided to surprise her with a visit, but she found him hiding behind a beat up truck in the parking lot just by following his scent.

She laughs when he says "You're a vampire, Care. Not a werewolf." before he wraps her in his arms, lifting her from the ground.

When he leaves after a few days, he knows that she needs him to leave his jacket so she can wear it in her sleep.

And when he calls to say he's home safe she laughs when he sends her a photo of him wearing one of her jackets with the caption "life's not fair :("

The next time he visits, he finds the photo framed on her bedside.

He would have asked her to take it down if he didn't love her so much.

E

He loves leaving notes:Post Its on the refrigerator door, or scraps of paper taped to their center island.

She loves how he writes her name Caroline, like it's a piece of art that deserves respect. He writes it like a masterpiece: the C big and bold and elegant, the i topped of with a tiny circle instead of a dot, like a speck on paper does not do it justice, and the e is given a long fading tail, as if the end is a secret only he is allowed to know.

He gives her free reign over his journals one night when she asks about them. "Read it for yourself," is his reply.

She knows how important his words are, how he's mulled over every sentence, and labored over every last twitch of his pen. She understand what this is: an invitation into the thoughts important enough to merit a place in his leather bound journals.

She skims her fingertips over the spines of the ones on his shelf, pulling one out in random. She's almost scared of the things she might find, not because she might chance upon a particularly malevolent confession, but because she's sure she's bound to read something about her in them.

And she does:

When I think about my bestfriend, I'm reminded of sunshine. I've always thrived in the dark, lived in the mysterious, but right now, as she sits on my bed, watching bed TV and leaving coffee stains on my sheets, I realize I love sunshine. I love this particular sunshine of mine.

He watches her read it from across the room, and when she looks up to smile lovingly at him, he hands her another note and bends down on one knee.

"June wedding?"

F O U R

He sweeps her off her feet with his words.

And it's not even the iloveyous or the takecares. Sometimes, it's not even in the words per se.

Mostly, it's in the tone of his voice, the way the syllables roll off his tongue and travel to the space in her ears. Like a prayer. Deep in reverence and faith.

She's on the floor by the fireplace, her eyes reflecting the flicker of the flames. It's Christmas morn, the sun barely up, and he can feel her excitement radiating from her form. Like a little kid, she smiles with that puppy dog eyes, silently asking if it's morning enough for him to let her open her gifts.

When he nods, he watches her face light up, putting the tree lights to shame as she proceeds to tearing the wrapping paper off. Halfway through she looks up and finds him staring affectionately, and she can't help but smile because she can feel herself falling even more in love with him. Gladly.

"What?," she asks, lifting herself from the floor and falling onto his lap.

Her arms wrap around his neck as she gives him a chaste peck. "You're staring," she says when he doesn't reply.

"Nothing."

He touches his lips to hers and says, "I'm just really glad I met you."

Tonight, he sweeps her off once again.

F I V E

She sees it in the photos, because her girlfriends are the biggest fans of their relationship, clearly.

Elena sends her one from the last open mic night when she's on the stage again singing Sara Bareilles again because she know he secretly loves her.

In the photo is Stefan, both hands holding his iPhone up as he takes a video. He is staring directly at Elena's camera, and even though it's dark she knows that look.

It's the one she sees in the morning as she opens her eyes, the one that says you're too beautiful for my life.

It's the one she sees when she looks up to him after burning another meal in the oven, the one saying i will love you through whatever hell our lives put us through.

It's the one on his face when she's buried under his sheets, nursing a fever or a hangover. The one that makes her say this is what happiness feels like.

It's the one she faces when they don't see eye to eye, when his face is in his hands and she's towering over him in a fight. The one that says I love you even though i hate you.

It's the look he wears when he watches her talk about school or fashion or family, while she waves her arms and lifts her eyebrows to convey her message. The one that says this is her. this is it.

It's the one he has on right now as he cradles her face in his palms, after a day of being apart. The one that says she's home.

AN: I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I had fun writing it. Be a darling and leave me a review :)