Warning: after that plot-heavy chapter, this chapter is, like, 98% fluff, 1% plot, and 1% Angela's dirty thoughts about a certain Salvatore. Be sure to have some toothpaste on hand so your teeth don't rot.

CHAPTER 11

COCOA

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By the time she finished drinking her wine, closing the shutters, and going upstairs, her sister was asleep in her bed. In order to keep her that way, she pried the closet doors open as quietly as she could and chose a pair of pajamas. Since she would be using it anyway, she took them into the bathroom, but groaned when she saw herself in the mirror. She'd forgotten she had makeup on. She set the pajamas down and got the cleanser out, but before she could do anything with it, her phone buzzed from its position on the counter.

Her heart fluttered at the name that popped up, and though perhaps she should have found it silly, it was too pleasant a feeling to hate.

Stefan: Are you awake?

She picked up the phone, wondering how she should respond. She typed in three different answers before settling on something she liked.

Stefan Salvatore sending me late night texts? I didn't realize this was your style.

She leaned against the counter, eyes glued to the phone as she awaited another text.

Stefan: I assume that's a yes?

She snickered.

You don't know. Could have mad sleep walking skills.

Stefan: I assume that means you're safe too.

Why wouldn't I be safe?

Stefan: Damon said something. Made me worry about you.

She bit her lip. It would be a good idea to let him know what happened, wouldn't it? Not only was he Damon's brother and deserved to know, but he could help keep him in check. With a sigh, she put away the cleanser and got the powder out.

Do you want to come over? I know it's late, but there's a lot to talk about.

Stefan: 5 minutes?

Perfect :)

She touched up her hair and makeup, though not without a voice in the back of her mind mocking her the entire time. Making herself look good when she was nearly dead on her feet. For what? A conversation with someone she'd barely known for a month? Stupid.

When even was the last time she had a crush on somebody? She remembered nearly developing one on Mason Lockwood when she was six, but it had been short lived. All that her attraction for Mason came from was him being the bipedal equivalent to a golden retriever. He wasn't stuck in the body of a child, like her. He didn't have a dark side, like her. He didn't know the true weight of guilt, like her. He didn't know how difficult it was to fight and be good, like her. Like Stefan.

"God," she said aloud, "shut up already."

She cracked open the door that led to Jeremy's bedroom and ensured he was safe in his bed. She watched until the covers rose and fell once, then closed the door. He had fixed his sleep schedule for good, she was pretty sure, though his ambition hadn't waned in the slightest. Now, instead of sleep, he replaced much of the time he should be spending on homework with reading their father's old books and watching medical videos online. She almost found it funny—considering if he failed middle school he would be even further away from becoming a doctor—but she had to admit it would make for an excellent success story.

With all the shutters closed, it was nearly impossible to see where she was going once she stepped into the hallway. She had to hold up the small screen of her phone to make the walls and floor light up a faint blue, allowing her to descend the L-shaped stairs without injury. She couldn't help but remember the last time she was in this position. Hopefully, this time, she and Stefan could speak without his bloodlust making him miserable.

She reached for the light switch by the front door before doing the same to the one in the living room. A moment later, her phone buzzed to alert her he was here. Grabbing the keys from the console table, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

His hands were in the pockets of his brown leather jacket, his eyebrows drawn together as his gaze flicked over her in worry. A brooding brow and green, smoldering eyes. She smiled, both at seeing him, and at the amusement that thought gave her.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey. Come on in—" She cut herself off too late. She'd forgotten he wasn't invited in. Forgotten what he was, for a second. She'd been waiting, wanting to make sure her sister was okay with it before doing anything.

His lips parted, apparently as surprised by her as she was. "Did you mean that?"

She breathed a laugh. "It doesn't really matter now, does it?"

"No, I… I won't come in unless you want me to."

Ever since her blood left his system, she came to truly understand that this was who he was. Kind. Considerate. That the Stefan she had taken to Sheila's house and the one she had met in the woods had been all but careless from the effort it took not to hurt someone. Now that his energy wasn't occupied by keeping himself in check, her heart almost hurt at how much of a gentleman he could be.

She straightened up and raised her chin, looking at him with a playful seriousness. "Stefan Salvatore, would you do me the greatest of honors by entering my humble abode?"

His head ducked down to hide a grin. "It would be my pleasure." He stepped inside, and she quietly shut the door behind him.

"Sorry for the dim lighting," she said as they walked into the living room. "I didn't want to risk Damon sneaking in through any windows. Though I guess he can just break in the old-fashioned way, like he did before."

As he slowed to a stop and turned to face her, a brief flash of anger passed over his eyes. It was an emotion she'd never seen from him before. "Damon was here?"

She nodded. "Jenna invited him in. Thought he was this guy I made her believe is my secret boyfriend—who, by the way, doesn't exist."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No. He just… was Damon."

He searched her face for a moment. "Are you sure?" The genuine concern in his voice made her smile.

"I'm sure." The concern melted away, though he didn't tear his eyes from hers. In the low, amber light of the room, they looked darker than usual. Like leaves in a storm. She thought that if he let her, she could stare at them forever. "Do you want anything to drink?"

He blinked, finally severing their eye contact. "Oh, I don't really…"

"Like human drinks?"

"No, I just— I don't need them."

"Who said anything about need?"

He hesitated. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

To ease his worry, she grimaced, as if expecting an excruciating rejection. "Not even for hot cocoa?"

It worked. He chuckled at the floor, before looking her in the eye again. "Angie… how could I ever say no to hot cocoa?"

The sound of his footsteps mingled with hers as she led him into the kitchen. Though some light peeked in from the living room, when they passed the dining table, she could no longer see in front of her. Still, she'd lived in this house for seventeen years. She knew it like the back of her hand. The light switch would be by the refrigerator, like it always was.

He was following close behind, judging by the sound of his footfalls. If he quickened his pace, he would reach her in a second. And what would happen if he did? What if she felt him press against her back? What if he kept walking, and pushed her against the wall? How much of him would she be able to see? His eyes? His lips? His jaw? Maybe only the outline of his body, glowing gold from the lamps in the living room. Letting her see how he towered above her. What if he closed the doors first? They would be hidden from sight. Jenna could pass by the room and never know what they were doing. Where her innocent little niece was. With a familiar stranger, hidden within her own home.

Jesus Christ, Angela. Stop it. He was right behind her. Could hear her heartbeat. If there was a god out there, she prayed they would make him believe it was racing because of fear.

She flipped the switch and turned to him, unable to bear her thoughts any longer. Her cheeks nearly hurt with how abrupt the smile she gave him was, but she hoped it looked convincing.

"Welcome to my domain!" she said brightly. Too brightly. Stupid. "Well, sort of. I only started cooking after… you know."

He gave a sympathetic nod. "Your parents."

Her smile became strained. "Yeah." She opened the cupboard above her and brought down the cocoa mix.

"Oh, here…" He grabbed the kettle and started walking towards the sink.

She looked at him in shock. "You don't have to do that."

"It would be rude for me to just stand there."

"Stefan, you're my guest. That's… kind of your job."

He didn't let go of the kettle, instead giving her a smile. "Okay. How about this? If I stand there and let you do everything for me, I'll feel bad."

She leaned against the counter and narrowed her eyes. "But if I put you to work, I'll feel bad."

His smile widened. "You're not putting me to work. You're letting your guest do whatever he wants."

A quiet laugh escaped her. "I had no idea you were this devious."

"Is that a go-ahead?"

She pursed her lips, as if the very thought pained her. "I guess that's a go-ahead."

"Good." He started filling the kettle with water and gave her a mockingly stern look. "You wouldn't want to be rude to your guests."

She chuckled. "You know, I don't remember you being this playful."

He shrugged, the stern look fading back into a smile. "You bring it out of me."

Imagine that. Her, little ol' Angela, bringing out the playful side of broody vampire extraordinaire, Stefan Salvatore. The notion made her happier than it should have.

She reached into another cupboard to bring down two large mugs before retrieving a spoon. "So… what exactly did Damon say to you? To make you worry about me."

He brought the kettle to its base and turned it on. "That he paid your aunt a visit. And that she's a very, uh, tasty lady." Anger bubbled up inside of her, making her clench her jaw. "You can imagine what I thought he meant by that."

"God," she gritted out, "he is such an asshole."

Though she was facing away, she could tell he was looking at her. "I should've done something." His voice was quiet. Bitter. Guilty. "I should've tried to get rid of him when you fed me your blood. I was stronger then. I shouldn't have let it leave my system."

She finished quickly, turning to him in concern. "No. No, you made the best choice you could have. If you didn't, people would've gotten hurt. You would've gotten hurt. I would've gotten hurt. Neither of us would've forgiven ourselves." She shook her head. "I'm so sorry I forced you into that position."

"If you didn't, I'd be dead."

"I could've waited. Tried to let things play out on their own. I thought I could kill three birds with one stone," saving Sheila, allying with Pearl, and making sure Damon's humanity was on, "but I could've waited longer. Maybe if I did, you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"Or maybe Sheila would have died. And Bonnie would be alone and confused." At her own words being repeated to her, she said nothing. He came closer, until she had to tilt her head up to look at him. "The choices we make can always get people hurt. Sheila's in the hospital, but she's alive. I drank your blood, but you got to me before I could spiral out of control. Everything that went wrong could have gone worse, but it didn't. Because of you."

"What does it matter that I got to you? I thought you called Lexi."

"And she helped me get away from anyone I could feed on. There was only so much she could do over the phone. She wasn't there physically, to stay with me. To help me through it. But you were."

She stayed silent, biting her lip in thought. There was something she'd been wondering about ever since it happened. "If you were like that after you left Sheila's house… what about before? In the kitchen, or when I was completely defenseless in bed. You didn't try to feed on me."

She didn't miss how his eyes flicked first to her lips, then to the base of her neck, where he once left his mark. "I wanted to," he said quietly. When his eyes moved back to hers, they were loaded with something heavy. "There was nothing I wanted more. Almost nothing. The desire to keep you safe was the one that won."

"Why?"

"Because I was afraid if I tasted your blood again, I wouldn't stop. Not until you were dead. And that was something I couldn't risk."

She wanted to push. To ask why his desire to keep her alive won over his bloodlust. Or maybe not why, but instead how. How, when his bloodlust was once the very thing that defined him. But some of the answers she conjured inside her mind were ones she couldn't afford to hear. Not yet. Not when there was a possibility that her sister still felt something for him. Maybe she truly was insane, when knowing that he wanted to drain her dry made her care for him more.

The rising volume of the kettle was broken by a click, and he tore himself away from her. He took it in his hands and glanced at the mugs, which both held soft, brown powder at the bottom. "Do you give me permission to pour this in, as your guest?"

A slow smile formed on her lips, letting herself stare at him a moment longer. "I'll get the marshmallows."

Together, they decided they had poured the perfect amount of mini marshmallows on top, which meant that the mugs were almost dangerously full. Carefully walking back into the dimly-lit living room, she lowered herself on an armchair and watched him choose the corner of the couch closest to her.

She plucked a marshmallow from the top of her mug and brought it into her mouth. "There's something else," she said. "Anna's going to be enrolling this Monday."

His eyebrows rose. "She's staying?"

"Mhm. Pearl's become an ally, of sorts. I just thought you should know before she shows up out of nowhere. Do you think you two could become friends?"

"I don't know. Do we have room for another member in the 'too old for high school' club?"

She grinned. "What's it like being in high school in your hundreds anyway?"

"Honestly? It's kind of boring."

"It's boring for me too. Only reason I didn't graduate early was so I could keep an eye on the kids."

"The kids?"

"Oh, Elena and the others. I watched them all grow up, so they're the kids to me."

"Ah. What's that like? Having to pretend you're a toddler?"

"Ugh, horrible. You're so small and helpless, and your limbs don't work the way they're supposed to. Everyone treats you like you don't have a brain. Or eyes. Do you have any idea how many times I had to witness my parents making out?"

He chuckled. "Hey, at least you got to have nap time."

"That's true. And don't tell Elena this, but," she leaned in conspiratorially, "I actually found playing house kind of fun."

His eyes glimmered in amusement. "As long as you don't tell her I played with my mother's dolls as a child."

"You did?"

"I did."

A surprised laugh escaped her, and she quickly covered her mouth. "Oh, Stef, I had no idea."

His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "I used to braid my mother's hair sometimes. Started missing it when she passed away, so I switched to her old dolls. It made me feel like she was still there, even if I couldn't see her."

Her eyes softened. "That's so precious. I'm… kind of like that with singing. The only reason I'm in the drama club is because of my own mother."

"I heard you on Friday, outside the school. Your voice is really good."

His praise made her smile. "Thank you. But that reminds me. How come you didn't join our table?"

He shifted, a mildly uncomfortable look on his face. "Elena's… kind of been avoiding me. I didn't want to make things awkward."

"Oh. Right. I'm sure she'll warm back up to you eventually, it's just… she saw Tanner's body, and after the way our parents died…" She shook her head. "Just give it some time. That's what I've been trying to do."

He gave her a smile and took a sip of cocoa. When he pulled back, his eyebrows furrowed. "If you don't mind me asking… how's your brother? Since we're talking about your sister, and…"

"He's better. Much better. He's not as afraid anymore."

"That's good. He's gone through a lot more than someone his age should have."

"Yeah, he has." Strangely enough, the guilt she felt whenever this topic came up was absent. Instead, she was filled with warmth at how sincerely he seemed to care. "He decided he wants to be a doctor when he grows up."

"Did he?"

"Mhm. Just like his dad."

"I wanted to be a doctor too, when I was human. I'd offer to give him some books on medicine, but… they're probably a bit outdated."

She chuckled. "Probably. I wouldn't mind taking a look at them though. Always loved old things." And she absolutely did not just think of a cheesy pick-up line to follow that up with.

"Well, you're welcome to the library at the boarding house whenever you want."

Her eyes went wide. "Wait, seriously?" He nodded. "Can I come over tomorrow?"

"And the day after that."

"And the day after that?"

"And the day after that."

She couldn't hold back a squeal. "Oh my God, you're the best! Wait, do you have any other old stuff?" She gasped. "Do you have any old dresses? I mean I don't know why you would, since I don't think you ever wore dresses, but I love old dresses, and I even commissioned one for the Founders' Day float in February, which is the only reason I want to be in Miss Mystic in the first place, unlike Elena and Caroline and Bonnie who I hounded until she gave in and said she'd sign up with the rest of us and—" She cut herself off. An amused grin had crept across his lips, and made her remember herself. Her cheeks heated up in embarrassment. "I'm ranting. Sorry."

"No, don't be. I, uh…" He laughed softly. "I enjoy your rants."

"You sure?"

"Definitely. Although…" He set his mug down on the coffee table and scooted closer. His hand reached out, and when his long, thin fingers grazed her cheek, she felt herself go still. His thumb extended to swipe the tip of her nose; only a brief touch, but one that felt infinite.

He was warmer than she was expecting. He was always warmer than she was expecting. Not like Pearl, whose hand she had grazed in their exchange of blood. Her skin was the slightest bit cold, like she stayed out in the autumn air for too long. Stefan's skin was warm, and with him, it was so easy to forget what he was. What she was. Talking about the trials and tribulations of being too old for high school; telling him her doubts while making hot cocoa; being able to speak freely, because even though he looked like one—even though she looked like one—he was so far from being a child. It was no wonder she enjoyed his company so much, when he was the one person in her life close to fully understanding her.

He withdrew himself. "Next time you make an impassioned speech," he said, lips still curved into a smile, "maybe make sure there's no chocolate on your face."

She blinked. "Oh." Her eyes flicked between his own and the chocolate on his thumb. "Um… thank you."

His smile gentled. "You're welcome."

"Let me…" She all but slammed her mug down on the coffee table and stood up, her white heels loud as they carried her back through the sliding doors.

At the dining table, she took longer than necessary to remove a napkin from between the others. She was too far gone already, wasn't she? Maybe she'd been too far gone since the moment she laid eyes on him. When she truly realized that a person like her existed in this world, and was now in her life. A person that could understand her in a way no one else could, if only she told him of her past life. Of the guilt that nearly ate her alive, and her fight to be good.

She turned back around and went to him, sitting down and holding out the napkin. "Here." Until she was sure of her sister's feelings for him—completely sure—she would keep herself from doing anything. As long as her mind was focused and sober, she would never betray her again.

"Thank you." After wiping it off, he folded the napkin and set it down. "So, uh, did Damon do anything? When he was here? Or say anything?"

"Apart from charming Jenna like a psychopath?"

He flicked his eyebrows, huffing in amusement. "Yeah."

"Not really. Although…" She smiled deviously. "I hurt him."

"You did?"

She lifted her hand so he could see her wrist. "This mole right here? Right above the other one? It's a tattoo I got done with vervain. Elena, Jeremy, and almost everyone else has one too. It's so we can never be compelled, and since it's in such a convenient place, we can also use it as a weapon. I sizzled his neck a little bit."

His eyebrows rose. "That's… actually really clever. Who came up with that?"

"I did. I'm surprised no mortal I know about has done it before. It's an obvious idea, and vampires have been around for a very long time. The downside to it, though, is that now the Council has them too."

"Angie, if no mortal you know about has done it before, I don't think it's as obvious an idea as you think."

It was silly, but his words made her chest swell with pride. "Is that your way of calling me smart?"

"No." His eyes softened, and if she wasn't mistaken, they held a hint of admiration. "This is my way of calling you smart."

A bashful smile pulled at her lips. It wasn't often she was complimented on the things that truly mattered, but that was all he tended to compliment her on. Her smile faltered when she remembered something. "Actually… there is something Damon said. Just not when he was here. He wants me to be his date to the Founders' Party."

His eyes sharpened. "He what?"

"I know, right? I promised I'd help him infiltrate the Council if he pointed me to this witch he knows, and in his mind, this is the best way to do that."

"Why would he think…" His eyebrows furrowed. "Maybe because if you show that you trust him so publicly, the Council will be more likely to trust him too?"

"That's… way less self-centered than what he said. Apparently, since the town thinks I have insanely high standards, going out with him will make the Council believe he's a super fine specimen." She lowered her voice to mimic him. "It's simple. Classic. Effective. The crows aren't doing it for me anymore. I desperately need human interaction. Please go out with me."

He grinned and cleared his throat. "No, actually, it's more like…" He tilted his head down and looked at her intensely, his eyebrows rising and falling once. "Hello, brother. Oh, you thought you saw the last of me? Too bad. I need to reinsert myself into your life so I don't continue to feel the misery of eternal loneliness."

She bit her lip, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. "And then he does that weird little eye roll thing."

He switched back to his normal self, pointing at her enthusiastically. "He does do a weird eye roll thing, doesn't he? I think it started in the 70s."

"Can you—" A giggle escaped her mouth. "Can you say 'hello, brother' for me again?"

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

"Because it would make me really, really happy."

He continued staring at her for a moment, lips pressed together so he wouldn't smile. He repeated his pose, tilting his head down and looking at her intensely. His eyebrows wiggled, and there was a ridiculous smirk on his face that was unbelievably unlike Stefan. "Hellooo, brother."

She wheezed.

Slapping a hand over her mouth so she wouldn't wake the house, she had to put her mug down for fear of spilling its contents everywhere. She didn't bother returning from the hunched position the action left her in, but at least now she could use both hands to silence herself.

"Are you okay?" His mildly concerned words were interspersed with chuckles, and when she shook her head 'no', the chuckling got louder.

She returned to sitting properly and moved her hands away, just enough to be able to speak. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm so sorry, you don't even know why that's funny."

"Not because of my terrible acting chops?"

"Your incredible acting chops." She was still shivering, but it was no longer a monumental task not to burst out laughing. "It's a… reincarnation thing."

He threw his head back. "Ah."

"I don't know if this happened in real life," she picked her mug back up, "but in the show, those were the first words Damon said to you when he came back. They became… kind of iconic."

His eyebrows rose. "Iconic? Was there…uh…was there anything else someone said iconic?"

She playfully crinkled her nose. "Anything you said, you mean." He gave her a sheepish smile that she took as a yes. It made her happy to know he'd become more comfortable with how she knew him in her past life. "The ass-whooping you gave Tanner that one time. About the battle."

He gave her a stern look, though his eyes were amused. "Don't pretend that was all me. You did half the work."

She giggled. "But you finished him off. We make a pretty good team, don't we?"

"Yeah. We do." He cleared his throat and grimaced. "Sorry. We shouldn't disrespect the dead."

"Are you saying that about Tanner or Damon?"

He breathed in amusement. "Tanner. Especially considering you had to witness his murder."

She gave a small shrug. "I'm not breaking down, am I? I think that means I've started moving past it. But you're right. We shouldn't disrespect him. Maybe we shouldn't disrespect Damon either. Or, rather, I shouldn't disrespect him in front of you."

"Why the distinction?"

"I want to give you a shot at being brothers again, remember? If I do nothing but complain and mock him, I'll risk you not seeing the good in him."

"Angie, he threatened you. He hurt you. How can you see the good in him when you're his victim?"

The memory of him around Elena was fleeting. "Because I know he loves Katherine. And maybe it's not a healthy love—maybe it's closer to obsession—but as long as he's able to feel so strongly for someone, it proves he has humanity. And as long as he has humanity, he has good in him."

He looked down, deep in thought. "I've tried to find it," he said quietly. "To bring it out of him. To show him he has it. But every time I think I'm almost there, he does something and I'm back at square one."

"It's a gradual process. But I think if we can turn his unhealthy love for Katherine into a healthy love for you, we can reach it. I think the best way to do that is to remind him that before he fought for her, he fought for you. And that you would fight for him too. Because even though everything has changed, you're still brothers, and that's what brothers do for each other."

The corner of his lips briefly rose. He looked back at her. "But how do we do that?"

"Maybe… I should go with him to the Founders' Party. And maybe you should come too. To begin making amends. To show him he's not our enemy. Just that… he's a bit of an ass."

"I think your exact words were 'I want to punch him in the throat'."

She giggled. "Technically, I did. Just with my wrist."

"Angie… you don't have to go with him if you don't want to. You don't have to do anything if you don't want to."

"But I do. If I keep refusing him, something tells me we'll have an even bigger mess on our hands. This way, we prevent a potential headache while also beginning to repair our individual relationships with him."

"I just don't want you to be around someone that makes you upset when it's completely preventable."

She smiled. "But if you come, I'll be around someone that makes me happy, too."

He looked at her in a way he never had before. Like he was looking at something precious. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "I think… one of the biggest mistakes I ever made was believing your reincarnation was the most incredible thing about you. It's not. It's the overwhelming amount of kindness you show to other people. That you're able to care for my brother, who's done almost nothing to you but inflict pain. That you're able to care for me, when you know how close I've come to draining you of your blood. And I know not to mistake your kindness for weakness, because it doesn't retract from your strength. From your intelligence. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to know you. You're like no one I've ever met."

Perhaps those words should have frightened her. But how could they, when they brought tears to her eyes? The smile she gave him was shaky in the best way possible. "Neither are you." And though she wanted nothing more than to reach out and do something, do anything, her mind was focused and sober. So instead, she raised her empty mug and looked at him how he looked at her. "More hot cocoa?"

A smile spread across his own lips, steady and gentle. A smile that filled her with far more warmth than the drink they'd enjoyed together had. "Always."

So. Ship talk. I wanted to keep this to myself so you can enjoy the story blind, but this is a major decision regarding endgames and I want your thoughts.

Caroline's is an easy one because Klaroline is the only TVDU ship I've ever fully been on board with, but as far as the other two girls and Tyler are concerned, I'm looking at a couple options.

For Elena, I'm thinking either an Elejah endgame or ending up single (because it'd be kind of fitting considering the love triangle in the show—deciding she doesn't need a man and whatnot).

For Bonnie, I'm thinking either Bamon or Kennett, with Bonenzo being a possibility I don't think would be as interesting. Of course she could end up single, but she was robbed in the show and I want to give this MVP the life she always deserved.

For Tyler, I'm thinking either Hayley or, like Elena, ending up single. Personally I like the idea of him and Hayley being a power couple where he's the mayor and alpha of a pack in Mystic Falls and she's the alpha of her pack in New Orleans, but they still meet up occasionally and clearly love each other.

If you have any other suggestions, please let me know! Till next time :)