I let the beast in too soon, I don't know how to live
Without my hand on his throat; I fight him always and still
Oh darling, it's so sweet, you think you know how crazy
How crazy I am
Fast As You Can – Fiona Apple


Damon got about two steps inside, the room going for a spin, before he leaned into the wall for support.

Huh, who knew he could still get this drunk? That last handle was probably a mistake.

"Easy there, big guy." Alaric kept a close step behind Damon in case he tipped over again, guiding him into the parlor.

That was another mistake.

"Shit, my eyes!" Alaric let go of Damon's shoulder to slap his hands over his face.

Damon's eyes only widened, catching Elena's bare body move in the last of a sinuous roll atop his brother's lap on the couch. Elena gasped in surprise when she heard Alaric and crossed her arms over her chest.

At least Damon was pretty sure it was a gasp of surprise.

She ducked down, the blood rushing into her face in a blush heating the air and making Damon's mouth water for something other than booze. The couch faced the fireplace, so the back of it covered all the good parts from him. Stefan's head was hanging over the armrest looking back at him. If Damon were less inebriated, he would have sworn Stefan looked guilty for a second before it turned back into his regular long-suffering resignation.

As it was, Damon didn't do much but stand there with his eyes locked on Stefan's.

Alaric snapped them all out of it first. "Right, so, I'm going to go wait outside. Elena, you should probably head home sometime soon. Or whatever. I'm gonna—forget it, goodnight, Damon."

Turning at the sound of his name, Damon watched Alaric slip out front and kept his back to the room as Elena and Stefan separated, trying not to focus too hard on the sound. He did hear Stefan whisper for her to head up to his room, and waited for her to follow his instruction before turning back.

Stefan sat there with two hands over his naked groin, not quite covering himself completely. Instead of embarrassment, or maybe anger that Damon would expect, there was still a measure of guilt that flashed over Stefan's face for reasons Damon couldn't place. He tried to find the switch to turn on that part of the brain that thought about that sort of thing, but it was swimming in a sea of tequila. Instead, he fell into the armchair next to the couch and tried to think of some witty comment that did not focus on the peek of his brother's hard-on or the fact that Stefan was nervously watching Damon look at him.


There were probably a thousand reasons for Stefan to get the hell up and get out of there, but watching Damon zigzag through the room to stumble into the chair right in front of him was more insistent. He heard Elena walking around his room picking up her stuff and shoving it into a bag, wondering how to end the awkwardness and get her out of the house faster.

He pulled a throw pillow over his lap when it looked like Damon wasn't moving.

"It seems like one of us should be apologizing."

Damon looked around, glanced at the ceiling in the general direction of Elena's shuffling feet—what was taking her so long—and went back to looking at Stefan. Then he went to touch his nose, missed, and glared at his hand as if it had betrayed him. He tapped his nose on his second try.

"Not it."

A weak smile crossed Stefan's face, "Fine. Then I'm sorry you had to see that."

With a small apathetic shrug Damon twisted into a tight position in the smaller armchair. One knee bent up over the side, the other sprawled out on the floor and his arms over his chest. He finally closed his eyes.

He was waiting for something, and Stefan realized he was waiting for the same thing.

"I need to make sure Elena gets home."

With his eyes still closed Damon pointed behind his head. "Ric is still out there."

He nodded, knowing Damon couldn't see it anyway. He left the pillow behind as he went to help Elena get her stuff together.


He yanked on the closest pants as she sat down in a huff.

"Why do I have to leave?" She asked as she pulled on her shirt. "Stay in your room with me." She patted the spot on the bed besides her.

"Please, Elena." Stefan rubbed her arm, trying to be reassuring. "I need to look after him right now."

She smiled sweetly up at him. "I can help you."

"No." Stefan said quickly. "Thank you, but I think this one is on me." He stepped out and went downstairs before she could protest further.


By the time she gave him one last kiss goodbye and Stefan went back into the parlor, Damon was stretched out on the couch, wrapped around a pile of couch pillows, eyes fighting to stay up. A half empty bottle of whisky rested on the floor within arm's reach.

"Hitting the liquor a bit hard tonight, brother?"

"You put pants on."

Stefan knew Damon was deflecting his comment, but he was sort of amused by it anyway. "I know you're unfazed by my body, but I thought an attempt at dignity would be more appropriate than opening the door naked with Alaric still standing there."

"Why? You have nothing to be ashamed of." He groaned softly and patted around for the bottle beside him. "Nevermind."

A flash of heat shot through Stefan as he came to a stop. He never understood why his brother said stuff like that to him. He could only imagine how girls Damon was actually hitting on responded to such casual compliments. Ignoring Damon's teasing, Stefan watched with concern as his brother took a drink.

After he set the bottle down, Damon merely grunted, burying his head in the pillow he was clutching.

"Should I even ask what's going on with you?"

"It helps me sleep," Damon muttered barely loud enough to be heard.

"As does lying down in your own bed. You haven't been here for days."

"Is that sex smell coming from me or you?" Damon picked his head up and looked around, as if only realizing then that he was lying on the couch Stefan and Elena were previously occupying. He scowled at the cushion. "Or is it the furniture?"

Stefan closed his eyes as a wave of unease tried to take hold of him. One of those things they had to get used to a long time ago. Vampire senses made sexual discretion impossible even if Damon hadn't seen them live and in color. The scent of Elena was most prominent in the house, but standing close enough to Damon, Stefan could trace how he spent his nights.

"So you and Ric..."

"And some Tri Delts, or RNs, or some other letters. It was a lovely weekend." Damon sighed without any enthusiasm.

It was the middle of the week, but okay.

Stefan should have been familiar with that too. Damon had never been timid in his pansexual escapades, or shy in talking about them. As much an exhibitionist in speech as he was in form. In the Before, it had been some kind of mean game to make Stefan uncomfortable. In the After, it was some kind of attempt to distract himself from pining for Katherine before that went all to shit.

The dull pain of bitterness regarding their maker was definitely familiar.

"You two seem to be spending a lot of time together. Is that where you go all the time when Elena comes over?"

Without answering, Damon sat up and picked up the bottle. He didn't drink from it right away, but let the rim rest against his lip.

Stefan came closer and sat down by his side. Damon twitched as if to move away, but instead he took a deep breath and slumped towards him. Stefan was too surprised to keep Damon from leaning on his shoulder.


An hour later they hadn't gotten far. Stefan was leaning his back against the armrest with Damon spread across the couch on his side, head resting on Stefan's thigh. A glass took the place of the bottle in his hand, even if it had been refilled a few times, but he wasn't blacking out anytime soon thanks to his vampire healing abilities.

He silently cursed them again.

"I'm so tired, Stefan." His voice stayed quiet, small. He felt a shiver run through Stefan.

"Why aren't you sleeping, brother?" Stefan slid further under Damon, so they were both lying down. Damon repositioned his head on Stefan's chest.

The admission, "Bad things happen," slipped out, but Damon couldn't bring himself to elaborate.

"Like what?" Stefan asked quietly. He took the glass from Damon's hand before taking a drink.

Stefan's body was relaxed, and Damon settled easily against him. It felt okay, letting Stefan move him around to their resting position. More comfortable than he expected.

He liked touching Stefan, liked the way his brother leaned into it, liked the way Stefan didn't look at him like he was a monster for doing it. Sometimes, even looking as grateful for the contact as Damon felt. But he was not allowed to touch Stefan anymore, and Damon wasn't sure when that all started. Before they turned, or after? The only measure of time that meant anything. When didn't really matter anyway. He found himself haunted by why far more often.

Sometimes we don't do something, so that others won't know that we want to do them.

There were too many teenagers around, with eyes glued to the golden boy and his dark shadow. Maybe that was why he couldn't touch Stefan anymore. Brothers, and grown men. That seemed like outdated bullshit. Why shouldn't he be allowed to touch his brother? All he ever seemed to do was carry him out of one torture chamber or another, do cursory checks for injuries, and hold his head to get his attention.

There were parts he remembered about the Before. Spanning all the years between Stefan being the sweet dependent child to the awkward but sincere teenager crawling into the bed they practically shared because they just slept better next to each other. It was innocent, even after Stefan filled out, and Damon knew they were both too old to use the excuse of sleeplessness, they fell into his bed, feet kicking and arms tangling together almost every night.

Then Stefan started looking at him differently, and Damon didn't understand what was happening or why Stefan stopped curling up against him, but it killed him. Then Damon left to fight in a war he didn't believe in, and visited home to see glimpses of his brother becoming a man. The excuses were even thinner then. So he found others to put in his bed, with much more interesting outcomes. But it wasn't the same, and Stefan still came back for the nights in between. Then Katherine happened, and there was no going back in the After.

It didn't have to be like that anymore. They were sort of getting along. Damon wanted to be the kids that could lay this close together without anyone getting between them again. But he knew there was too much vitriol between them and his brother wouldn't come back anymore. Elena was there, always there, taking Damon's place. Except, he had his little brother for now. They were finally alone and Stefan was a hard line of cool muscle from chest to knee underneath him. He could lie there and soak it all in as long as Stefan let him.

Even that would go away if Damon told him what happened when he closed his eyes.

"You ask too many questions."

"Wouldn't need to if you'd talk to me more."

Damon hadn't drunk enough for this. Or had too much. His control was all over the place and it made him too vulnerable. But Stefan had a point.

"Fine." He tried to sound decisive but it came out a bit slurred. "What do you really want to know? You have time for one question."

"One?"

He blinked slowly but the room was still hazy. "I'm barely conscious now, man."

Stefan was quiet for a while; Damon could feel him thinking it over. It was harder to drink lying down, but Stefan managed to empty the glass with minor spilling and set it on the ground.

"What are you doing with Alaric?"

Damon snorted. That's what he wanted to waste his question on? He looked up and saw his brother's serious face. There was something else in there, burning curiosity and wariness. Like he didn't want to know the answer. Damon softened his derision and dropped his head to Stefan's chest again. It was less demanding from that position anyway.

"Similar to what you and Elena do. I'm probably more of a power bottom though." He felt Stefan tense, and ran his hand down Stefan's ribs in slow swirls. "We drink, Stefan. He's overwhelmed by this town and generally unhappy and I don't hate being around him. So we drink until we don't. Even then, it's nothing serious. Sometimes I pick up some girls, sometimes I don't, and we have a bit of fun. I feed, I get laid, Alaric learns some new tricks, gets to think about something other than his mundane life and everyone goes home sated and alive."

Stefan relaxed a bit under Damon's touch, but he kept moving his fingers in circles along Stefan's side. It was a small comforting movement Damon used when Stefan was a child that always worked when the kid had been scared or upset in the middle of the night. He liked that it worked now.

They lay like that for a while. Damon's eyes ached and his mind continued swimming, never making contact with anything worth touching.

"Dammit, I have more questions." Stefan broke the silence despondently.

Damon chuckled but it came out a bit wet. "Save them."

He closed his eyes, listening to Stefan's breathing, pressing a little bit closer to the expanse of exposed skin. He couldn't remember the last time they did this. The churning pained feeling inside him had settled at some point since Alaric brought him home.

"It's never quite right." Damon mumbled against him. His breath shunted back onto his lips felt warmer than Stefan's body. "They're all too fragile, I want too much." He sighed deeply, wrapping his arms around his brother while he had enough alcohol in his system to blame it on. "Katherine never mentioned eternity doesn't cure the empty hollow feeling inside. Only makes it worse."

Stefan's arm wrapped around Damon's back, hand stroking the nape of his neck. Damon knew Stefan was burning through a dozen more questions trying to narrow it down, to find one that would open up all of Damon's secrets. The problem was there weren't any good ones. The only secrets Damon had left were the ones he kept from himself. He was barely holding that down anymore.

Gratefully, Stefan dropped it. "It'll be okay." Stefan's whisper carried all the weight of a promise. Damon desperately wanted to believe it, but he knew better. He clutched Stefan's back, pressing his face against his little brother's bare chest. Stefan leaned closer, lips brushing Damon's ear and instructed, "Sleep, brother."

So Damon did.


When Damon's face relaxed and breath was steady, Stefan picked his brother up and carefully carried him to his bedroom.

Damon shifted and settled with his arm stretched out across the bed. Stefan briefly remembered himself younger, smaller, and standing in the same position. He looked out the window at the clear still night, remembered hot summer storms, lighting crackling across the sky, climbing into bed beside Damon and fitting in that space under his big brother's arm. When things were simple between them and fears were easily calmed.

He knew all about that hollow feeling Damon spoke of. They never quite drank enough booze, or blood, there were never enough fights or sex to fill it. Its dull echo was louder at night.

At the doorway he looked back, catching flickers of unease cross Damon's sleeping face. It didn't match the serene expression he had while they were dozing on the couch.

After getting into his own bed, Stefan stared at the dark ceiling, watching shadows paint the room. At least he didn't have to debate anymore.

Something was definitely wrong with Damon.