When I was a man I thought it ended
When I knew love's perfect ache
But my peace has always depended
On all the ashes in my wake
Arsonist's Lullaby – Hozier
Stefan was still unconscious. Damon carried him out of his room and across the hall to lay him in Stefan's bed. Gently he pulled the vervain needle out of his side and peeled the ruined shirt off. He groaned. The skin around the needle had ripped with the angle Damon pushed it in, and the wound struggled to close. He collected more blood off himself, held his fingers in Stefan's mouth so it got into his system and did its job.
Damon had a few things to take care of. He did what he could about the girl and set to cleaning up the room while she rested downstairs, healing with his blood in her. He stripped the bed and wiped down the walls and floors, stunned at his own carelessness. He stood in the shower, peeling layers of dried blood off, scrubbing till his skin burned. The blood swirled down the drain carrying the mistakes he made away.
He would never help Stefan this way.
The mess he made hadn't been in the plan. He wanted to fuck around with her mostly, let his brother get an eyeful, just to show him Damon could get whomever he wanted, that he didn't want Stefan for the sex. Maybe to prove to himself he hadn't lost his edge.
It all went sideways though, as was unfortunately typical for many of his plans. Stefan didn't come home soon enough. Damon let his pride cloud his judgment. Let his anger at Stefan's obstinacy carry him away. The depths of his regret felt infinite.
Oh but that look in Stefan's eyes. Damon finally understood what that hunger hid.
Stefan still hadn't been saying no like he should have. He'd been trying to reject their reality, but he accepted the blood Damon offered. And he lingered so long, testing the limits of his will power, feeling out what he wanted, while Damon stood there naked but for the blood, and just… let him.
They were going to combust from all the things they weren't saying.
It was late in the night by the time Damon finished and figured out what to do with the girl. He prepared what he needed for when Stefan opened his eyes. Dawn was only a few hours away. He made sure Stefan's side healed over before he sat down on the bed next to him.
The curve of Stefan's spine glowed in the moonlight as Damon stared at the expanse of cool skin.
Their existence was magic. Always had been. No relationship had ever been as significant as the one he had with his brother. The girls they met never seemed to understand what they were dealing with. The Salvatore's had their own reasons, but they didn't come into this afterlife alone. It was no wonder he was trying to manufacture this one last link together.
Damon considered leaving for a while. Putting a few years between this disaster and the next, give them time to remember how to be brothers again. But running away never created any solutions.
He wasn't sure he could distract himself with their state of undress in Stefan's bed either, so he settled on covering them both in clean clothes. Which was interesting. Dressing a grown man, especially unconscious, was a lot different than dressing the little kid he used to feel responsible for.
How annoying and persistent that sense of responsibility remained. He knew Stefan had it in him to control his hunger, and Damon certainly was willing to do anything to make sure it was easier on both of them. But the rest of it, what Damon wanted, and what he believed Stefan wanted too, was a steaming pile of complicated.
He looked around his brother's room. They hadn't ever spent a night in it together. Because vampires needed an invitation to enter houses, Damon overcompensated and pretended that meant he was welcomed everywhere once he was inside. But for as often as he gave himself permission to appear in other people's beds, he had always resisted the urge to slide into this one. Damon figured that was a way of reminding himself Stefan was sleeping next to him to help with the problem of his wandering subconscious. That it wasn't as personal for Stefan as it was for Damon. That it wasn't everything.
It meant something different, more perfunctory, that it was always night after night of Stefan sticking around for Damon. He wondered if that made up for all the times during the daylight it was Damon running towards Stefan. Protecting him from everyone but himself. Their stupid impossible balancing act. Not finding a level place, just swaying back and forth between extremes.
Stefan coughed, barely stirring as unconsciousness turned into something more like sleep. Damon blew out a deep breath. He lay back with his head pillowed on his arm, looking at his little brother. It was stupid how gorgeous he was. If looks even mattered when that was a fraction of what Damon wanted. Stefan was the shining knight Damon begrudgingly followed into every battle. The bravest, kindest man Damon knew. The fact that he had seen his brother's dark side, the truth buried with good intentions, didn't take away from the fact that Stefan was a good man, the best, maybe.
Damon constantly found himself amazed by the lengths the kid went to in order to hide the fact that he was extraordinary. He'd only ever wanted Stefan to be strong and all Damon would do was ruin him. The taste he finally had, the ghost of the weight on his tongue that now branded him as permanent property of Stefan's only fueled his sick desire a thousand times over.
There had been a possibility for a slight chance that things could maybe work out between them. He was almost sure. As usual, he caught a glimmer of hope, panicked, and fucking ruined it within twenty-four hours. The promise of a lifetime of misery he once lied about made itself true again and again. He didn't think he could sleep, aching under the pressure of his mistakes, but the months of sense memory of lying next to Stefan seemed to overpower his anxiety.
The nightmares would come back tenfold if he fell asleep without touching his brother somehow. He quickly convinced himself that was the only reason he should reach forward and put his hand along Stefan's back.
Stefan rolled over at the touch, lying flat. Startled, Damon quickly pulled away. Stefan's arm dropped, sliding along the sheets, reaching beside him until it landed on Damon's hand. Still in a sleeping state he pulled Damon's arm around to his chest and Damon's body followed easily until they were pressed together. Damon wasn't sure his brother's eyes had even opened. Did they always find each other so easily?
He was happy to forget the last time they weren't locked together so tight their bones dug into each other's chests. He buried his face in the crook of Stefan's neck and breathed in his scent until his lungs were filled with it. He wanted so much more.
The flavor on his tongue, coursing through his blood.
The hand to stay held in his.
He wondered how they'd ever get there.
