Edit: This is what happens when you give two stories almost the same name -.-
A (very) short story written after 3x14 because I like the idea of Damon and Caroline being friends. lady-september[.]tumblr[.]com.
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He finds her by the bar—lost in thought and, for the first time tonight, alone.
Caroline's nursing a glass of wine, eyes lingering on the wall instead of the carefree people behind her, and her gaze doesn't waver when he sidles in next to her. She's expecting quips and insults, maybe a dirty joke. He eyes her dress and shakes his head with somewhat of a smile on his lips.
"You look beautiful," he offers.
She doesn't feel like starting some kind of fight with him or reading too far into the complexities of that comment. Instead she breathes out a little, letting her tense shoulders relax slightly. "Thank you."
He turns his back to the bar, eyes the floor. "Having fun?" he drawls.
Somehow she has a feeling she knows where this is going. She plays dumb, shrugs her shoulders—gives him the chance to tell her what's bothering him. The truce between them is shaky at best but it remains in place nonetheless.
When he doesn't say anything, she glances down.
"Shouldn't you be trailing Elena?" she asks, takes a sip from her drink. Concern for her friend is gnawing at her even as her mind is a million miles away. She's never been able to talk Elena out of anything, so there's not much she can do in that department. "Make sure she doesn't get herself into trouble like she's oh so prone to?"
He shrugs, hums under his breath. "I don't know where she went," he finally says and there are so many conflicting emotions in his voice. "I know Stefan is with her, though. I'm sure my brother will keep her out of trouble."
Caroline has her doubts but doesn't voice them. He really doesn't need to hear it.
He leans back against the counter, raises an eyebrow at her. "I saw you earlier," he comments lightly, "dancing with the big bad hybrid dick." She doesn't deny it—what's there to deny? a dance is a dance—and he huffs a laugh. "I hope you know what you're doing."
She feels grateful that, in the middle of everything that's going on, he still takes the time to stop for her.
"Haven't a clue, actually," she admits.
His lips twitch. "You should probably figure that out, then," he comments with a shrug of his shoulders. "Before things get more confusing than they already are." He reaches out to touch her hand, meeting her eyes when she looks up in surprise. "Don't let his pretty words fool you. You're smarter than that. Don't forget who he is."
Normally she'd laugh in his face, but his voice is sincere and his eyes soft. Maybe he's thinking of another dance, years and years ago, of the woman who wears Elena's face and the dreams she never lived up to. He's right when it comes to this. He understands when it comes to this. So she nods. She can't complain when the man has already complimented her twice anyway.
He smiles at her, then he looks down and his face twists into a frown.
"What is it?" she asks.
"I don't know," he replies, phone suddenly in his hand, "but it's Elena." He makes as if to leave and she swivels on the chair, following him with her eyes. He pauses and turns back to her. "Will you be alright?" he questions, refusing to look directly at him when he asks.
She finds it amusing. "I'll survive," she says dryly.
"You better, Blondie," he tells her with the Salvatore grin firmly in place. "Save me a dance?"
"Count on it."
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