Secrets - are mine to keep
Protected by silent sleep
I'm not ready, I'm not ready
For the weight of us, for the weight of us
The Weight of Us – Sanders Bohike

Stefan went to take a shower and get the wood and glass out of his hair. If he expected Damon to follow him, he was disappointed.

By the time he came back downstairs dressed in his own clothes, the room was clean if a bit darker. He knew they'd have to go shopping again. How many times had they replaced the lamps in the house because of their fights? They had perfect night vision. Why did they even have so many fragile things around?

He found Damon in the kitchen washing the glasses from that morning.

Stefan watched him, seeing him in a new light. He actually believed the idea that the man would give him anything; that they could be anything they wanted together. And the feeling of trust was all consuming and brilliant and not nearly as terrible as he thought it could have been. When Damon wanted someone, he wanted with his entire being. Stefan saw his brother bend over backwards until he wrecked himself over that fact again and again. He never thought he would be on the receiving end of that desire. He never imagined he'd be allowed to reciprocate.

Stefan knew he hadn't actually instigated anything that had happened between them yet. Everything was a reaction to Damon making the first move. Every desperately willing reciprocated reaction. He wasn't really sure what would happen if he asked. That was probably the point. Damon needed Stefan to figure out what he wanted.

He'd loved Damon since the very beginning. Since his first tottering steps in the world, he'd been chasing his big brother. Even in the Before when Stefan's open love for Damon started to feel like something he shouldn't express so openly, his affections didn't remotely lessen. It could have been excused as one of those emotions amplified by turning into vampires. Familial love and the yearning he buried turning into the intense orbital force Stefan felt around Damon in the After. Hunger and hatred masking pure need as a necessity to go on living without his brother when he had become convinced Damon hated him first.

Maybe it wasn't the same thing back then, lacking the ferocity that seemed to be building each day since Damon kissed him. It didn't really matter. Stefan's desire would not be abated now.

If the responsibility of their future was going to be his choice, he at least needed to figure out what exactly he was struggling over. He walked closer, putting his hands on Damon's sides. Damon froze with the drying towel in one hand and glass in the other. He didn't turn around, but watched Stefan's hands as they wrapped around his waist and Stefan pressed the rest of the way against him.

They spent so many nights this way, but something felt more intimate in the quiet daylight.

Damon was all corded muscle and sharp angles and everything the girls he'd been with were not. But stubborn as everyone he'd ever met combined, and so fucking beautiful. Beautiful in a way he hadn't let himself think about since they were human. But he could think about it now. With his forehead pressed to the back of Damon's neck and hands stroking over his ribs.

"Do you need something?" Damon finally said, smiling even though Stefan couldn't see his face.

"Just this." Stefan replied softly, relishing the shiver his breath sent through his brother.

"Care to be more specific?"

"No." Stefan tilted his head so his cheek rested on Damon's neck. His hands grew braver, sliding around Damon's waist and slipping under his shirt feeling skin and tense muscles with his fingertips.

"I see." Damon lowered his arms to set the dish stuff down and turned, carefully leaving Stefan's hands under his shirt.

Everything was changing. Stefan took a deep breath, feeling Damon's chest rise and fall with his. "Are we going to reach a point where you stop trying to make me hate you?"

"I know it's confusing." Damon sighed, but didn't move away from Stefan's touch. "It's my fault you're going through this. I'm sorry, Stef."

"No, don't apologize for this. I'm glad…" Stefan kept his hands moving along Damon's waist. He needed Damon to know how serious he was. "I'm glad you kissed me that first night."

Damon squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, letting the confession wash over him. They both knew it would take more than that. He looked back at Stefan. "Everything you're worried about, brother, I fear it too. God knows we've lost enough sleep over this. And I'd take it all back if I wasn't so convinced it would make things worse between us." He brought his hands to rest over Stefan's, the thin fabric of his shirt between them.

The soft look in Damon's eyes was unnerving. They weren't going back now. Whatever happened, it was a choice both of them were making. Stefan untangled his hands, settling on his brother's hips instead. With resolve Stefan commanded, "Take it off."

After a flash of scrutiny, Damon eyes lit up in a delighted challenge that screamed 'make me.'

Stefan gripped his hips harder, bumping him into the counter as a response.

Damon jolted but didn't move away, peering down at Stefan with that infuriating half amused expression.

With painfully obvious intent, he lifted one arm to the back of his shirt, pulling the fabric upward maddeningly slow. By the time his head came free Stefan was done.

He yanked the shirt out of Damon's hands and threw it behind him, going back to his torso, fingertips dancing over the skin, mesmerized by how little of his brother's body was actually covered by the span of his hands. He could see how much sharper the lines were, how much more filled out Damon was since he fed so recently. Feeling familiar, unfamiliar. It was acutely sensual touching him this way, the way Stefan tried to avoid touching him every night they'd been sleeping together. That had to account for the soft noise of pleasure Damon made and the electric current thrumming under Stefan's hands.

His eyes followed his fingers, closely memorizing each detail as he slid over the firm planes, the flatness of his brother's body, the divots between the muscles, the v-cut of his exposed hips, the dusting of chest hair and the smoothness everywhere else except for the meticulously well-groomed trail of hair below his navel that disappeared below more fabric. His fingers came to a stop at the button of Damon's absurdly low-slung jeans.

There was a strangled noise where Damon lost a little of his breath. Stefan could do it, his knees trembled to sink down, bury his nose in that equally well-groomed patch of hair and really explore all the intricate differences of men. Of this man. There had never been another man that made him want this. He had never wanted anybody the way he wanted Damon.

"Not yet, brother," strained out of Damon's throat, his hand lifting Stefan's chin.

Stefan's back straightened, not realizing he had already been lowering himself. He stared into his brother's lust blown eyes. Knowing his whole face was reflecting the same feeling back. The way Damon's mouth had felt on him, the way it made him believe impossible didn't have to be complicated. He wanted to return the favor, to make the man feel the same way. But of course Damon was right.

Damon's thumb stroked over his lips, dipping between them and grazing his teeth. "Eventually, you will be free and we'll do everything you want. You can hate me for everything I deserve, but I won't let you hate yourself for her."

Groaning, Stefan forgot-remembered-forgot again about Elena. The whorls of Damon's thumbprint left rough trails over Stefan's tongue. He latched onto the digit, captivated by the burning heat in his brother's eyes.

Damon stared half-lidded at Stefan's mouth. "Are you hungry?"

Breath hitching, imagining his lips, his teeth, around any part of Damon and getting that taste again, Stefan nodded, trying not to bite into the skin of Damon's thumb.

Laughing softly Damon removed his hand. "There's sandwich stuff in the fridge."

Stefan closed his eyes but was unable to hide his smile. The air around them started to break into something a little less overwhelming. He kept one hand on Damon's waist, the other traced along the shadows under Damon's eyes. "Are you tired?"

Damon's lip twitched, looking briefly annoyed before it turned to something almost apologetic. "I didn't sleep at all last night. Was just watching you."

Stefan's gaze was stoic. "I'm still pissed." The words came out soft, but didn't make them less true.

"Good." Damon nodded. "You should be furious for a thousand reasons."

"Not a thousand." Stefan shook his head. "Just the big ones."

Pursing his lips Damon silently questioned him.

"You knocked me out, for one." Stefan rubbed the back of his neck. Not every scratch was a mortal wound. The lingering anger was hard to hang onto. They'd done much worse to each other through the last century. His hand fell to Damon's other side. "You're this huge fucking tease, and I can't catch up to you. You pried this feeling out of me when I had this whole other life mapped out."

"There wasn't much room for me in that normal life, brother." Damon tried sounding unaffected but Stefan heard the underlying accusation. Damon thought Stefan would actually try to cut his brother out of his life. As if he ever stood a fucking chance of living without him.

"There was plenty of room when we were just brothers." Stefan's eyes widened. "But now I want things to be different as much as you do, but I can't be with you if it's going to be like this. We keep screwing up." His grip tightened, digging into Damon's hips. "I don't have a clue how to be without you either." He could hear his voice rising but didn't know how to stop it. "Then you go cutting me in half because you lash out when I hold back on making this colossal change, basically proving this thing between us will never work!"

"I know." Still quiet, Damon backed up, sliding out of Stefan's hold. "I did terrible things to you. I, fuck, I wasn't going to screw her, but she was into me before I ever compelled her. You didn't come home right away and I kept picturing you with Elena, and it… I hated it. And I hurt you, again." He sighed and took a step sideways. "I always do terrible things to you."

"It was worse when I thought you killed her…" Stefan started. He let Damon put the room between them. Let the distance clear his head. At least they weren't yelling. He leaned against the counter so they were side by side.

"Not this time. I told you I wouldn't. That we don't have to."

"I wanted to believe that, but you intentionally made me think you did."

"I just wanted to see. Just because I didn't, doesn't mean I won't next time."

It wasn't a threat. They were both resigned to the fact that sometimes, that's how things went for them. Hunger and anger took up a majority of their personalities. That's when the blood made promises it couldn't keep, and the feeling inside that screamed for death took it from whoever was nearby. Damon testing Stefan's trust by misleading him wasn't really a surprise. Stefan wished he were better than continuing to fall for Damon's act.

"I know." Stefan tried to clear his throat.

His brother crossed his arms over his chest. "You're just as likely to flip out. To turn it all off." He winced, regretting acts they hadn't committed yet.

"Yeah," he huffed. Sometimes it wasn't an act. They were both great and terrible monsters. He looked sideways at Damon. "Then what?"

"Nothing has to change." Damon frowned, pulling his shoulders up in a shrug. "I'm here. We can continue standing by each other's side."

"Is that something we just decide?"

"No, I don't think we decide any of it." He leaned over, bumping shoulders. "We're in it now. We'll figure this out eventually. Together."

Stefan wanted to believe that too. More than anything he'd ever wanted. But every time he let Damon into his life, thought they had a chance to be brothers again...

No, this wasn't about being brothers. Maybe it never was. Failing at that old goal wouldn't be disappointing if he had something better. Except, except…

Forgetting. Remembering.

"What about Elena?" He wondered out loud. Not expecting a response.

Damon's silence was an agreement that she was a question to which he had no answers.

A tiny blinking light caught the corner of Stefan's eye.

He pulled back, slowly walking towards his phone by the front door where he dropped it the night before. Where he let go of everything to run to Damon. He picked up his jacket off the floor. Found his phone had a series of missed messages. A few from Alaric, the rest from Elena.

"Real life calling?" Damon asked from where he was still leaning against the kitchen counter. Stefan watched Damon pull his shirt back on.

He curled his bottom lip over his teeth and nodded. "Yours too." Stefan looked back at his phone, scrolling through his text messages. "You should call Ric. He has some questions about the girl."

Damon stepped away from the counter and sighed. "I'll deal with that later. I'm going to take a nap." He went towards the stairs.

Stefan didn't remember the last time Damon went to bed without him. Their routine… "Do you want me to—"?

"No," Damon cut him off. He didn't turn around, didn't even sound upset. Just exhausted.

It still felt like rejection. Stefan wasn't sure who was rejecting the other anymore. But he hated it.