A/N: This chapter's pretty short, sorry. I'm on a serious roll with this one, though, but I would like to say that right now, my stories are un-beta'd because my beta only has two more terms for his degree and he's super busy. I'm trying really hard to keep this updated (and I'm working on an update for my other story, too) so read and review, please!

At eight o'clock the next morning, I was staring at myself in the mirror, and that's when I noticed them. I had hickeys on my neck – about two or three of them, a deep purple, like bruises. They weren't very big, and I could cover them up with makeup, but the fact was that they were there. I put my hair up in a messy bun, not wanting to mess with anything extensive that morning – I was severely hung over and here I was, going to spend the day with ten rowdy kids. I put on a little makeup and covered up the hickeys with concealer, and grabbed a package of pop tarts out of the pantry as I left. I tried really hard not to think about what happened last night on my drive over, and when the kids ambushed me at the door, it was all forgotten.

I was reading the younger kids a story while the older kids colored when Daphne tapped me on the shoulder, "Someone's here for you, Care," she said seriously. "Says he wants to talk to his buttercup."

I rolled my eyes, but then told the kids, "Miss Daphne will finish this. I've got to go talk to someone." She took the book and I went out into the front to talk to Damon.

"Hey," he said to me when I got there, his hands in his pockets. "So…we kind of need to talk."

I nodded; boy did we ever.

"Follow me," I said to him, and he followed me into the break room that Daphne and I shared.

We kind of just stared at each other for a few silent moments before Damon opened his mouth.

"Last night shouldn't have happened," he said quietly. "I put you in an uncomfortable situation and you had too much to drink. I even had too much to drink and we let our impulses get ahold of us. I'm sorry it happened. You think that maybe we can find a way to put it behind us?"

I sighed, "Yeah, I think so. You're my very best friend, Damon, and I love you. I'm not going to stop talking to you because we fell into bed together."

"I love you more than anyone else in my life, Caroline. I just want to make sure that things won't get uncomfortable between us."

I nodded, "They won't. I promise."

-x-

Damon and I haven't talked for almost three weeks. That may not sound like much, but with me and Damon, it's forever. I knew that night we had together messed with our friendship – it had to. I was a little more than pissed at myself, because this was mostly my fault. I knew I had to go talk to Damon, to see what was wrong and why he hasn't been around for me lately, but I just couldn't. I won't bullshit – I was fucking scared. Our friendship was very important to me, and here I was, not talking to Damon. We fucked up, and I wasn't exactly sure how to proceed from here.

Luckily, I didn't really have an option. I woke up that Sunday morning and went into the living room and saw Elena and Bonnie sitting with Tyler, chatting, and I knew right then I was fucked.

"Hey, Care," Elena said softly. She knew something – the way that she was looking at me was a good indication of that.

"What're you guys doing here?" I asked. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms in front of me.

"You know, the funny thing is that Damon hasn't been out of the apartment in three weeks, other than to go to work. And surprise, surprise, neither have you. Something had to happen between you two," Elena said, and I sighed.

"Maybe it did," I said, not really wanting to talk about it, but part of me was thanking God that someone was bringing it up. I've really wanted to talk to someone about the clusterfuck of feelings I had been getting since that night.

"Damon and I are having marital problems," I try joking, but Elena, Bonnie, and even Tyler are giving me serious looks. "Look, I fucked up, okay? I went to that engagement party with Damon because he begged me to go and fool his dad about us. But then we both got smashed – I mean, totally wasted – and we, uh…" my voice trailed off.

"You guys fucked, didn't you?" Elena asked. She looks at Bonnie, "I totally fucking called it."

"What are you talking about?" I ask her.

"The two of you have been dancing around each other for years. Even a blind man could tell how badly you wanted each other."

"It's not like that," I protest, but before I could continue, my stomach turned and I just made it to the bathroom before I expelled everything. I groaned, brushing my teeth to get the nasty taste out of my mouth, and then went back to them. Elena gave me a knowing look.

"It's just a stomach bug," I say and even though Elena's giving me that special look that says I'm full of bullshit, I try my best to ignore her. I've been puking nonstop for the last week and I'd been tired, so I figured that was what was going on. I went into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee.

"Thank God you made coffee," I say to Tyler, and he just watches me.

"Look, Damon and I slept together. And you know what? I fucking loved it. I was drunk, he was drunk, and we both wanted it. It means nothing, though. We can still be friends."

"Is that why you're avoiding him, and he's avoiding everybody else?" Elena asked, with an eyebrow raised. "Because that's what the two of you are doing."

I shake my head, "It's nothing, 'Lena. I'll go and see him and everything will be fine. You'll see."

-x-

Three weeks later, Damon and I still haven't talked, and what's worse is that my stomach bug isn't gone. I'm still puking and I feel bloated. Not to mention, I've been craving some weird shit lately. Tyler made fun of me for that, and then suggested I go to the doctor. So I took the day off that Tuesday and went and saw her.

When she tells me, "Congratulations, you're pregnant," it takes me off guard a little. Pregnant? Not only did Damon and I fuck up our friendship by sleeping together, but now we're going to be connected for life – with a baby. The funny part about all this is the fact that I'm not freaking out about being pregnant – I love kids and knew it would happen eventually – but that I was freaking out about whose kid I was having. How the hell was I going to tell Damon? Things had been pretty rocky with us these past six weeks and I wasn't sure how he was going to take this. I can feel myself start to panic, so I take a few deep breaths and try to calm myself down.

This is stupid, I thought. I know Damon better than I know myself sometimes. Which was true. Damon and I have been friends for years. Most of the time I know him better than he does. But things were changing, and I've never been the biggest fan of change.

I know I've zoned out, but the doctor snaps her fingers in front of my face, "Caroline?"

I shake the thoughts out of my head, "Sorry."

She goes on to prescribe me prenatal vitamins and talk about checkups and such. By the time I'm out of there, it's almost three, and going to work would just be a waste; I'd only be there for an hour. So I go home. I go home, change into a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt that I stole from Damon years ago, crawl into my bed and go to sleep.