I can't say enough, how much I adore the lot of you and all of your kind words. My inbox has been so busy with notifications about reviews, favorites, follows... And several of you have found me on Twitter - so fun to chat with you there! Thank you so much for your support!
I loved your guesses about Ava Kate and why she is so shy. I'll tell you this - one of you guessed right. And while this update is a bit football centric, hang with me - good stuff coming on the DE front! Meanwhile, I channeled some Friday Night Lights for this update.
Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries.
Elena methodically rinsed dishes and put them in the dishwasher, her eyes drifting to the clock every few minutes. Ava Kate was at her feet, playing with a doll. She was always within arms reach, unless she was with Caroline or at preschool. The front door opened and closed. Elena blew out a breath as footsteps made their way through the entryway, heading towards the stairs.
"You're late," she called. The footsteps stopped. A few seconds later, they changed direction. Her brother appeared in the arch leading into the kitchen from the hallway.
"You can tell time," Jeremy replied sardonically. Elena blew out a breath to hold onto her patience.
"Your dinner is in the microwave. Ava Kate and I already ate. I tried to wait, but she was hungry."
"I will eat later."
"You will eat now," Elena countered.
"Maybe I'm not hungry." Elena eyed him.
"You are starving," she informed him. "You can lie all you want, but those bloodshot eyes of yours tell me the truth." Jeremy glared at her, irritated, but went to the microwave. "It's roast, potatoes, and carrots. Re-heat it for three minutes." Jeremy didn't reply, but the microwave turned on. Elena finished loading the dishwasher. "How was football practice?"
"Stupid. That new coach is an asshole."
"Watch your mouth!" Elena snapped. Jeremy rolled his eyes. "I talked with Coach Salvatore earlier," she continued. "He seems like a decent enough guy."
"He screwed a student at his old school," Jeremy countered. "If you call that decent…"
"You know that turned out to be a false accusation," Elena replied. "She fabricated the story."
"Whatever. He spent more time making us run laps and drills than he did actually coaching."
"Last time I checked, running and drills were part of football."
"He gave us all this crap about how he expects us to behave and told us we didn't know how to win. No shit. We haven't won a game in two years."
"Watch your mouth!" she snapped again. The timer on the microwave tripped the two minute mark. "Back to the initial concern. Why were you late? Football practice wrapped at four. You were supposed to be home by seven."
"I was with friends," Jeremy answered. He left it at that and busied himself with retrieving a soda from the fridge.
"Doing what?" He turned from the fridge and smirked.
"You did notice my eyes." Elena sighed and shook her head.
"Jeremy, please…"
"Look, Elena, I know you are trying to be the tough legal guardian or whatever, but I can take care of myself. I just have to stay here until I'm 18 and then we will both be free to do what we want." He opened a drawer and rummaged for utensils.
"You have to graduate from high school…," Elena started. Jeremy snorted.
"Dream big, sis." The microwave still had thirty seconds left when Jeremy pushed the button to open the door. "Thanks for dinner." With that, he disappeared from the kitchen. Elena listened to him climbing the stairs. A moment later, his bedroom door slammed. Elena sighed again and let her head drop.
"Mommy?" asked a soft voice. Elena looked down to find Ava Kate gazing up at her, her eyes wide. Elena pursed her lips for a moment, then gave her daughter the best smile she could offer.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"You… Sad…" Elena dropped to her knees next to Ava Kate, right in the middle of the kitchen. She reached for Ava Kate and pulled her into her lap.
"I'm not sad," she said. "I promise. Uncle Jer is just being annoying tonight, that's all." She hugged Ava Kate. "Don't worry. Everything is fine. Mommy is fine. You are fine. Everything is fine. Okay?" After a few moments, Ava Kate nodded.
"Okay," she replied softly. She slipped off of Elena's lap and returned to her spot in the floor, picking her doll up to resume her game. Elena stayed where she was and let her head fall back against the cabinet behind her. Not for the first time, she wondered how she had ended up here, back in Nags Head, her parents gone, her brother off the rails, her child afraid of her own shadow.
"Gilbert didn't suck at wide receiver."
Damon didn't look up from his playbook. "He is a tall kid with good hands and decent speed. Why didn't you move him over sooner?" Stefan lowered himself into the chair across from his brother's desk.
"I suggested it many times over," he replied. "Crawford did what he wanted, though."
"Crawford did a shit job," Damon said, finally looking up from the binder in his hands. "Very few of these kids are playing where they should be."
"Flash is a damn good running back, though," Stefan observed. "He is cocky, but he is the best player on this team."
"He is a workhorse," Damon agreed. "He just needs somebody to pop him in the mouth once or twice. The kid doesn't know when to shut up." The day's practice had included another round of arguing with Flash that ended with him running laps.
"He comes from a hard situation," Stefan explained. "It doesn't excuse his behavior, but it does make sense."
"He won't be the first smartass I have worked with." Damon leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together behind his head. "Jackson seems to be working out at right guard."
"He is. The o-line needs some work, though. Defense…"
"Is a mess," Damon finished. "I want to work Boyd and Mueller at safety tomorrow."
"You're the boss," Stefan countered. "Besides, defense? Not my ponies, not my show."
"What are you still doing here anyway? Practice ended two hours ago."
"I helped Caroline with her classroom, then holed up in mine to work on some lesson plans. I'm behind, to say the least."
"That's what I plan to do tonight." Damon sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "It's been so long since I wrote a lesson plan, I'm not sure I remember how to do it." He wasn't entirely joking.
"Bet you never thought you would be back in the teaching saddle." Damon shook his head.
"No," he agreed, "I really didn't." He had had a plan, one that didn't involve teaching mouthy teenagers, until the last year happened.
"How are you settling in?" Stefan asked. Damon shrugged.
"My place is a maze of boxes, but it is hard to beat the view." He was renting a small cottage that was really no more than a living room, kitchenette, bedroom, and a closet of a bathroom, but it was oceanfront, and he found himself spending a lot of time sitting on the porch, breathing in the salt air, thinking.
"You haven't unpacked yet?" Damon shook his head. "You moved here more than a month ago!"
"I have a football program I have to bring back from the dead and history classes to teach. I'm not worried about putting a few dishes away. I'll buy paper ones." Stefan just shook his head. He would give Damon another week, and then send Caroline his way. She would be more than happy to whip him into shape.
"Mom called," he said, changing the subject. "Her and Dad have been trying to reach you."
"I have been meaning to calling them," Damon admitted. He didn't really have a good excuse for not returning his parents' phone calls, aside from just not wanting to. His mother was overbearing and his father liked to give unsolicited advice. After a long day of football practice, lesson plans, watching film, and trying to whip a bunch of teenagers into shape, he was too drained to deal with them by the time he got home.
"I would call them back soon," Stefan advised. "You know how Mom is. If she doesn't hear from you, she might just turn up on your doorstep. I kind of like her being in Texas."
"I'll call them," Damon promised. Stefan was right. His mother wasn't above showing up on their doorsteps unannounced. He had been four hours away from them in Texas, but that hadn't stopped her from surprise visits. She had even shown up at Stefan's place in North Carolina, not long after he and Caroline married and moved back to her hometown. Stefan pushed himself out of the chair.
"I'm going to head out," he said. "Don't stay too late."
"Yes, Mom," Damon replied. Stefan rolled his eyes and headed for the door.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, turning back to Damon. "Before I forget, I'm supposed to tell you to come over Saturday night. We are going to grill burgers and put the fire pit to use. Ric is coming. I think Elena is, too. Nothing fancy, just a little get together before the season and school start."
"Not like I have anything else to do," Damon quipped. "I'll bring beer."
"Fair enough," Stefan agreed. He turned to leave again, but Damon stopped him.
"What's Elena's deal, anyway?" he asked. He picked up his pen and marked something on the play in front of him that had caught his eye. "Single mom?"
"Yeah," Stefan said. His tone was careful, guarded. "Ava Kate's father isn't in the picture. With good reason." He left it at that.
"Ava is a cute kid," Damon mentioned.
"Ava Kate," Stefan corrected. Damon snorted. "I know the double name thing a mouthful, but Elena insists that we call her Ava Kate. So, we do."
"Fine. Ava Kate is a cute kid. Shy, but cute."
"Shy is a word for it," Stefan mused. "It takes her a while to warm up to new people, but she is a sweet little girl." He gave Damon a nod. "See you tomorrow, Coach."
"See you tomorrow," Damon echoed, already returning his full attention to the playbook.
An hour later, he gave up. He closed the binder and tossed it into the trash. There wasn't anything in the book that could be salvaged. He would have to start fresh.
Damon pushed a few buttons on the ancient copy machine. A moment later, it beeped at him, several lights blinking. He cursed and jabbed a few more buttons.
"You can't ask it to do too much at once," came a voice. He turned to see Elena standing just inside the print room, smirking. "Especially if you want colored copies."
"I just want a copy at this point," Damon stated. He jabbed a couple more buttons. The machine beeped at him, as though it were mocking him. "Piece of junk!" Elena laughed lightly and came forward. Without a word, she pushed him aside and calmly, deftly, opened a side door, removed some jammed paper, and pushed a few buttons on the keypad. A few moments later, the old machine started spitting out copies.
"Magic," he announced. "Pure magic." Elena laughed.
"It can handle about ten copies at a time," she told him. She picked up one of the fresh copies and took a look at it. "AP U.S. history class syllabus?"
"I think I have a whopping dozen students enrolled in that one."
"AP classes tend to be small here," Elena told him. "But, the AP students are also pretty sharp. It will be a good class."
"That's code for the AP students will make up for the ninth grade history class that has thirty-five students in it, approximately thirty-two of which don't want to be there?" Elena smiled at him.
"Something like that," she agreed. He returned her smile. She moved towards the shelving unit on the far side of the wall. Damon collected his copies and programmed the machine to spit out the first ten of his next set of papers. He glanced in Elena's direction. She was on her tiptoes, struggling to reach a box of masking tape on a high shelf. Damon crossed the small room.
"Here," he said, reaching up and easily plucking a roll of tape from the box. "Need anything else?"
"Just the tape," Elena said. "Thanks."
"Decorating the classroom?" Damon guessed. "Hanging a few inspirational posters?"
"Something like that," Elena admitted. "We have to hide the peeling paint somehow."
"I guess I should get around to hanging some maps or something myself," Damon mused.
"It wouldn't hurt you to add an inspirational poster or two to that grungy office of yours," Elena replied. "Maybe spray some air freshener while you are at it."
"The smell was a bottom file cabinet drawer full of rat droppings," Damon admitted. "Not to mention the waterlogged carpet. I dumped the drawer and pulled up the carpet so I could stand to sit at my desk. Now I have a nice, stained concrete floor, and an empty drawer."
"Well, that is a step in the right direction," Elena mused. Damon chuckled and returned to the copier to print a few more copies.
"Your brother has been doing well at ride receiver," he told her. "He has good hands."
"He is an artist," she said. "He creates these beautiful, detailed drawings. Well, he used to. Most of his drawings these days are pretty dark. The ones I see, anyway."
"He is an artist?" Damon repeated. Elena nodded.
"He's pretty private about it. He used to draw landscapes of the beach and tourist attractions around town and sell them to tourists. He had a nice little side business going on. He stopped after our parents died, though."
"Gilbert is an artist, Craig likes to read, Jackson is into philosophy… My football team is full of liberal arts enthusiasts," Damon mused. "And not a damn one of them will admit it."
"Teenage boys," Elena quipped. She held up the tape. "I'm going to go cover my paint peeling walls."
"I'll walk out with you," Damon said, collecting the last of his copies. "I have an hour before football practice. I may as well use it to try and figure out how to teach a bunch of teenagers about the American Revolution."
"I thought you had football practice this morning," Elena countered.
"Two a days, starting today," Damon said. "We shall see how many actually turn up."
"You sound confident."
"I'll bring them around," Damon said with confidence. He glanced at Elena. "I hear I will be seeing you and your daughter at Caroline and Stefan's cookout on Saturday."
"We will be there," Elena agreed. "Along with half of Nags Head." Damon raised an eyebrow.
"Stefan said it was a small gathering, just a few people. Me, you, Ric." Elena grinned.
"After all these years, you would think Stefan would know Caroline's 'small gathering' is never a small gathering. She has invited half the school."
"Yay," Damon said dryly. They reached Elena's classroom. "Have a good rest of the afternoon, Ms. Gilbert."
"You do know you can call me Elena, right?" she asked. Damon smiled at her.
"Have a good rest of the afternoon, Elena." She nodded.
"You, too, Coach Salvatore." He winked at her.
"Call me Damon."
Damon stood on the thirty yard line and crouched down, his hands on his knees, waiting, watching. The tailback went into motion, running down the line to a pre-determined position on the field.
"Hut! Hut!" called the quarterback. The center snapped the ball. The ball was barely in his hands before he was flat on his back. Damon blew his whistle as Stefan threw his clipboard in frustration.
"Wrap and tackle!" he boomed. "You wrap and tackle! Why is that so damn hard for you to understand? You wrap and tackle! It is football one-oh-one!" The offensive line and quarterback all started talking at once, pointing fingers and blaming someone else for went wrong. "Quit talking! Line up and go again!"
The same thing happened again.
"Rico! Line up at right guard!" Stefan directed. "Jennings, take two laps! Think about how to wrap up a tackle while you run!"
"What…?" Jennings started.
"Go!" Stefan said again. He looked over at Rico who hadn't moved. "Why are you still standing there? Get into position!" With a jump, Rico did as directed and started walking towards the offensive line.
"Hustle!" Damon barked. "You don't walk. Not on this team!" Rico picked up his pace. "Have at it, Coach," he added, just loud enough for Stefan to hear. He made his way to where Ric was overseeing the defense. He didn't say anything at first, watching them run through drills.
"That quarterback of yours is spending an awful lot of time on his back," Ric finally mentioned as Tyler Lockwood ran the defensive line through a series.
"He is not a quarterback," Damon muttered. "He can't throw the ball accurately to save his life. I just haven't stumbled across one of these dunces that can do any better." Ric chuckled.
"It's not funny," he admitted. "But, all you can do is laugh." A tall but solid kid slammed into a dummy. Damon raised an eyebrow.
"Not bad," he stated. "Not bad at all."
"That's Carter Lawrence," Ric told him. "He's not the brightest crayon in the box, but he is not afraid to throw his weight behind that big body of his and take someone out."
"He is going to be a hell of a linebacker." Ric nodded.
"Punishing blows," he agreed. "Wide receivers won't stand a chance. If we can get the rest of this defense working together."
"They look better than the offense," Damon admitted. Ric puffed his chest out proudly. There had been marked improvement on the defensive side of the ball over the last few practices. Damon rolled his eyes.
"Coach!" Mason Lockwood called. Damon turned towards him. Mason in turn nodded towards two figures approaching from the far end of the field. Damon gave Mason a mock salute and moved to meet the figures, a kid that looked to be about sixteen, wearing football pants, and a gentleman Damon assumed was his father, carrying shoulder pads and a helmet.
"Can I help you?"
"You are Damon Salvatore," the man stated. He extended his hand. "I'm James Conner. This is my son, Tate."
"I'm Damon Salvatore," Damon confirmed, shaking the man's hand. He offered his hand to Tate as well. The kid shook it. Damon appraised him. "Nice, strong handshake. Well done." Tate grinned slightly. "How can I help the two of you?" he asked, turning his attention back to his father. James put a hand on Tate's shoulder.
"We just moved to town, yesterday, as a matter of fact," he told Damon. "I took a job as head of surgery at the hospital and start on Monday. My wife is going to be working with the tourism department. Tate played quarterback for his school in Georgia, and we are hoping there is a spot for him on your team."
"What school?" Damon asked.
"White Hall," Tate answered. "It was a…."
"Prep school," Damon finished. "They have been to the Georgia Prep School State Championship the last three years."
"Won two of them," James confirmed. "Tate could have led us to a third one last year, but we ran out of time."
"It was only the fourth game I ever started," Tate said modestly. "Our starting QB blew out his knee during the last game of the season. I let the nerves get to me in the championship. I wasn't as accurate as I could have been. As I should have been." Damon grinned.
"Honesty," he said. "I like it." He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see another player taking reps at quarterback hit the ground. He turned back to Tate and James. "What grade are you in, Tate?"
"I will be a Junior, sir." Damon's grin grew a little bigger. It was good to hear a kid address him politely. He looked to James.
"Is he enrolled in school yet?"
"His mother is in the office now, taking care of it," James confirmed. "We knew practice had already started though, and we wanted to get Tate on the team, if you have space for him."
"As it turns out, we are in desperate need of a quarterback," Damon told him.
"That's good news," James said. Tate beamed. Instinct told Damon he had a true football player on his hands. He wanted to dance in excitement.
"Of course, First Flight High School isn't exactly White Hall," he told them. He thought he owed them fair warning, coming from a school like White Hall. James looked at Damon.
"Nor is it East Christian," he said knowingly. Damon raised an eyebrow at the mention of his old school.
"You did your research."
"There aren't a lot of options around here," James said. "We looked at a couple of private schools inland, but my wife didn't want him that far away. I didn't either, to be honest. There are two high schools on this barrier island. Carver High has won a few more games, but you are the better coach. I want my son to play for the best. So, we bought a house in the First Flight district." Damon nodded.
"We are going to turn things around here," he promised. He turned towards his team and blew a whistle. "Take ten, get some water," he barked. He saw his coaches look at one another, surprised by the unscheduled break. Damon was notorious for sticking to his schedule. "Salvatore, Donovan, get over here." Stefan and Matt jogged towards Damon. At least his coaching staff had some hustle about them.
"What's up?" Stefan asked.
"Mr. Conner, Tate, this," Damon slapped his brother's shoulder, "is my brother, Stefan Salvatore. He is also First Flight's calculus and trig teacher by day, Offensive Coordinator once the dismissal bell rings. This is Matt Donovan. He teaches geography at the middle school, then drives the mile up the road to coach our quarterbacks. Coaches, this is James Conner and his son, Tate. They just moved to town from Georgia. Tate started at quarterback for White Hall." While the school wasn't familiar to Matt, Stefan knew it well. His eyes lit up.
"Welcome to Nags Head," he said, extending his hand to greet the Conners. Matt did the same. "We need a QB around here."
"No one is on the team yet," Damon reminded the group. "Let's see what you can do." Tate nodded. Stefan nodded his head towards where he and Matt had been running players through reps at quarterback earlier.
"Come on, kid," he said. Their small group trekking across the field caught the attention of the other coaches and players. Their curiosity drew them closer, but an outstretched hand from Damon kept them on a perimeter.
"Gilbert and Crews!" Damon called. "Front and center." Jeremy and another player emerged from the group gathered around and looked at Damon expectantly. Damon gave a nod of his head to Stefan to continue. Stefan picked up a football and tossed it to Crews.
"Get in position," he said. "Gilbert, line up. We're going to run a slant." Jeremy eyed the newcomer, but did as instructed. "Okay, Connor. Show us what you got." Tate nodded once and lined up behind Crews.
"Hut!"
Crews snapped the ball and Jeremy ran his designated route. Tate easily made the pass. Stefan nodded in approval. "Not bad. Let's line up again. We are going down the field this time." Again, Tate called the play into action. Jeremy ran down the field as Tate dropped back, reading his receiver. He launched the ball, and it spiraled down the field, landing neatly in Jeremy's arms. The team whooped. Damon and Stefan exchanged a smirk.
"It's easy to make those plays without a defender," he said. "Coach Saltzman, pick you defense. O-line, join your center. Coach Salvatore, pick the rest of your offense." Less than two minutes later, 11 teenagers were lined up on either side of the ball. "Your call, Conner." Conner nodded once and called a huddle. The coaches, now standing shoulder to shoulder, watched as Conner relayed his play and the team lined up.
"Hut! Hut!"
Crews snapped the ball. Tate dropped back in the pocket and made a quick read of the defense. Carter Lawrence erupted through the offensive line, his sights on Tate. Tate saw him and scrambled. He spied his receiver down the field and launched the ball a moment before Lawrence made contact. Forty yards down the field, Jeremy caught the pass. The team cheered.
"We got ourselves a quarterback!" Matt declared, beaming. Only the coaches and James Connor heard him, the team too busy congratulating Tate.
"Hold on," Stefan said, holding up his hand. "Conner!"
"Yes, sir?" Tate asked, shaking off a pat on the back from a defensive lineman.
"See that tire?" Stefan replied, pointing down the field at a makeshift target he had made from an old tire and a couple of two-by-fours. Tate nodded. "Think you can thread that pigskin through it from thirty yards out?" Tate surveyed the tire for a moment, then nodded.
"I think so," he said. Damon shook his head.
"No thinking so," he said. "Either you can, or you can't. Which is it?"
"I can," Tate confirmed, his voice steady. Without a word, Jeremy handed him the ball. The team collectively backed up, giving Tate room. Tate set his feet and zeroed in on his target. He took two steps and launched the ball. It arched through the air and passed through the center of the tire. Cheers erupted, while Tate smiled sheepishly.
"Like threading a needle," Damon commented, grinning. Stefan was nodding.
"We have found our quarterback," he confirmed. "Team, meet Tate Conner. Conner, meet your team." The team went through another round of high fiving and welcoming Tate. Damon's grin broadened. It was the first time he had seen them act like something that resembled a team.
"Ask and it is given," Matt quipped before stepping forward to congratulate his quarterback.
"I guess I will leave you to it," James Connor said. He shook both Damon and Stefan's hands. "Maybe take a look at that o-line though. They missed a few tackles."
"Don't I know it," Stefan grumbled.
"Okay, fellas, enough mulling around," Damon called. "Get back to work!" He turned to walk away with James Connor. "Thanks for bringing Tate out. We were in dire need of a quarterback."
"Just coach him up," James replied. "He's a little timid. He needs some pushing, some help building his confidence."
"He is in good hands," Damon promised. "I run a tight ship. My brother is good at his job. Donovan doesn't suck at his. The team lacks discipline, but I think there is raw talent there. I just have to pull it out of them."
"I know they ran you out of Texas, but I did my research. I trust you with my son," James replied. They stopped at the gate. "When is the next booster meeting?" Damon grinned.
"A week from today," he said. "Seven o'clock, in the cafeteria." James nodded.
"My wife and I will be there." They shook hands and parted ways.
"Connor is a natural leader," Stefan said when Damon rejoined them. "He has been here all of ten minutes, and the offense is already looking to him."
"His dad said he's timid. He needs some help boosting his confidence."
"Good to know," Stefan replied.
"I'm going to go check up on special teams," Damon said. "Make sure you tell your guys to tell their parents there is a boosters meeting a week from today, seven o'clock, in the cafeteria." He started walking away. Stefan frowned.
"We don't have a boosters club," he said to Damon's retreating back. Damon didn't turn around, but grinned as he walked away.
"We do now."
Damon is quite confident, isn't he? I promise it won't be all football, all the time. Football is ultimately a secondary story in this fic.
Next update - we head to Caroline's not so small cookout...
Please let me know what you thought!
