Disclaimer: Don't own; don't sue. Title comes from the Marianas Trench song "Beside You". Photo credit unknown.
Summary: "I love thee with a passion put to use/In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith." (Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnet 43). Or, 100 ways in which Damon and Caroline have a forever love.
Spoilers: All aired episodes. Everything else is just speculation/AU.
Author's Notes: Decided to do the 100 prompt challenge to try and stave off writer's block. Will be posted in groups of five, as I finish writing them. Unbeta-ed. Each is un-related, unless otherwise noted. I have some writer's choice left, so if you have an idea/request, please let me know.
Been feeling a bit down lately, so apologizes for the extra angst/darkness in these.
Thank you all for all the views, reviews, favorites, and follows. :)
029. Moron.
"Moron."
"Ditz."
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
"Ass!"
Damon smirks. "My best feature could never be an insult, Barbie."
Caroline tries to maintain her scowl, but it's a losing battle. She scoffs to hide her grin, and swallows any response that attempts to come out. All she can think to say is that his toned, beautiful butt is not his best feature, physical or otherwise. Physical would be a tie between his eyes, hair, or abs (so she can be a bit shallow; have you seen the man?). Otherwise… she couldn't pick a favorite. The way he knows what she's feeling, even if she can't say the words. How he manages to protect her while letting her be independent at the same time. How he can insult her with nearly every word in the book, but would never say those words that once cut her to ribbons ever again. Or maybe even perhaps how he can take a silly argument and use it to make her remember that she loves him, and nothing will ever change that.
096. First Dance (Writer's Choice: wedding dance)
If there was one thing hadn't needed to worry about, it was the dancing. He'd learned it all, waltz, polka, you name it, clutching to his mother's waist as she sang or hummed a gentle melody. It was one of those memories he clutched selfishly to his heart. It was in the time of "pre-Stefan"; before his mother lost her strength and began to fade away, before his father saw a much more valuable child in his second son, before his own heart started to reflect the cold environment he grew up in. Her own background as a Founding Family member, (along with having an in-the-closet dad who indulged in his daughter's every princess fantasy) ensured both her incredible grace and skilled footwork, as another vampire had noticed, once upon a time. But these troubling eras are the furthest things from both their minds now. Don't trip, he murmurs, knowing every eye is upon them. What he is really saying is There is only you. I'd be fine if you let me lead, she retorts. What she means is I feel safe in your arms.
040. Note
He's sitting at her kitchen table, drumming his fingers in a mindless beat. They've got yet another Kill Klaus meeting going on at the boarding house, and because of the hybrid's unfortunate obsession with Blondie, he's stuck picking her up and ensuring her safety or some shit. He doesn't really agree to it, but the idea of Stefan driving anyone around still gives the rest of the group the shivers, so he doesn't have much choice. Normally he'd be prodding Blondie every five seconds to get her to hurry up, but the smell of salt on the air is still fairly strong, and he's kind of exhausted his lifetime supply of dealing with crying girls lately, so he'll let her collect her stuff at her own pace. Doesn't stop him from being bored out of his mind, though. He looks around the kitchen, not really seeing anything, until he spots a neon pink post it on the fridge.
'Lasagna in the blue container. Salad in the green container. Love you.' It's scrawled in Caroline's usual messy hand, with a heart and a smile at the end. Clearly towards her mom, he guesses. His eyes trail around the rest of the kitchen.
'Dishes are dirty. Love you.' On the dishwasher on a blue post it.
'Out of flour, will pick up on Tuesday. Love you.' Labels the lower right cabinet. He begins to wander all around the house at this point. He can't believe he hasn't noticed it before, but there are probably dozens of colorful post its all around the Forbes' household. They are all very clearly written by Caroline, messages to a mom that chooses to stay away. In each and every one of them, Caroline has written "Love you" along with a heart and smiley face. It's sweet, but it's pathetically heartbreaking at the same time. He doesn't even entertain the thought of how it reminds him of his own relationship with his father.
"Ready," a soft voice says behind him. He can still hear the catch in her throat, smell the salt on the air and the moisturizer she's used on her face to cover it up. Wordlessly, he holds his arm out to her. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, but she takes it nonetheless. Together, they step out of the empty house and into the sunshine.
057. Pain Relief
Damon's smirk grew as he stared down at his canvas. He was sure to get the normal places; neck, shoulder, wrists, of course. Some of those were coming along beautifully. But it was his latest addition that really made him grin. Just above her bellybutton. A difficult place to mark without doing a lot of damage to the skin. Of course, he didn't really care how much damage he did, but he liked to think of himself as an artist. The scars that peppered Caroline's creamy skin would never fade, not completely. The shallow ones wouldn't be visible to humans in a few weeks, but the ones he really cared about… those would last forever. Or as long as he allowed her to keep breathing.
So caught up in his careful observations, he didn't notice that his latest masterpiece in the making had awoken. Only the slight sniffle alerted him to her state. He glanced up at her face. Tears streamed silently down her face and her fists were clenched in the sheets. He could hear her heart pattering away, but he didn't think it was fear that was clouding her face. He tilted his head, not quite sure if he should be doing something about the crying. It didn't really bother him, but it did confuse him a bit. Except for rare occasions, Caroline had really cut down on the crying. After a second, a chuckle escaped him. His latest bite, his beautiful mark, was delightfully deep. No doubt it was the torn muscle that was causing her pain. A girl like Caroline, she had too little fat to protect her, and those abs that she had been so proud of had shredded under his fangs like a paper. He let his fangs protrude, enjoying the whimper that escaped from a now frightened Caroline. But he was satiated and rather pleased for a change, and he swiped his teeth against his own wrist. Before Caroline could blink, he shoved it up against her mouth, forcing her to choke his blood down. Just as quickly he took his arm away. Confusion attempted to drown out the fear on her face, but Damon was too preoccupied watching his bite vanish before his eyes. He sighed. Ah well. There was always tomorrow.
068. Sea
He finds her by the sea. The salt makes him sneeze, the wind tosses his hair in every direction, and his shiny leather shoes sink in the sand. He hates it instantly, and tells himself he hates her for dragging him out there. It's all a lie, of course. He could never hate her, and she certainly didn't force him to be there. She never even asked or told him where she was going. She simply went. He wants to yell at her for running, snap her neck, beat the sense into her so that she'll never do something so stupid again. But he can't. Instead, he walks up behind her and carefully wraps his arms around her waist. He tucks his nose into her neck and just breathes. Her breathing doesn't change, which tells him the one thing he needed to hear: she's done running. Her hands interlace with his, and he finds he doesn't hate the sea at all. Not when it brought her back to him.
