Note: chapter title from "fire breather" by laurel.
14. ash and dust on my door
… … …
Stefan waits for Elena on her front porch Thursday night. She has a few tutoring sessions on Thursday afternoons, and he knows she should be back right about now. Ric has tried to offer him food, told him to come inside, but Stefan's so stunned, so numb, that he can't even really process what's going on. He just needs to talk to Elena.
He doesn't even look up when she walks up the front path, says his name, sits down beside him. He can feel her worried gaze boring into the side of his face, but he honestly thinks if he looks at her, he'll fall apart. So he just stares unseeingly at the house across the street, tries to process things enough to tell her what's going on.
Finally, he takes a deep breath. "My mom left."
She takes a sharp breath in surprise. "She… what? What do you mean?"
"I mean she's gone." He scrubs his hands over his face, runs them through his hair. "She left us. Just like that."
"Oh, Stefan," she says quietly, tearfully. Yeah, he definitely can't look at her right now. He's barely holding it together as it is.
"She knows what he's like," he mumbles, more to himself than anything. "She saw what happened last weekend. She's watched it escalate since we were kids. Hell, she let it happen. She was a victim herself."
He takes a beat, tries to collect his thoughts, while she studies him patiently.
"I'm not mad at her for leaving," he admits finally. "I can understand why. I mean, he treated her just as badly, if not worse." He sucks in a breath, turns to face her. "I'm mad that she didn't take us with her. That she just left us with him." His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, wills the tears away. She runs her hand down his back soothingly. "He's gonna be so angry, and he's gonna take it out on us."
"Maybe it'll be a wakeup call," Elena says after a moment. "Maybe…"
"A leopard doesn't change its spots, Elena," he snaps, then sighs. "Sorry." He tries to collect himself, speaks more calmly this time. "We know who he is, what he's capable of. We don't mean anything to him." Elena rests her head on his shoulder. He's quiet for a moment, processing, trying to formulate his thoughts into coherent sentences. When he finally speaks again, a tear betrays him and slides down his cheek. "I'm scared."
"I'm sorry," Elena chokes, and he feels her tears against his shirt. "I'm so sorry, Stefan."
He takes a deep, shaky breath, lets the tears fall freely now. "I don't… I don't have anyone," he chokes out. "I have no one."
"You have me," she says sternly, lifting her head to look at him. "Hey. Stefan, you have me. You have Alaric and Jenna." She pauses for a moment. "And you have Damon."
He lets out a sob, covers his face with his hands, doubles over in pain. She wraps her arms around his torso, pulls him close to her, and he leans on her, lets her support him. He feels completely powerless, completely hopeless. He doesn't know where things go from here, can't even fathom the possible ways this could end, but he knows one thing: there's no way it ends well.
… … …
Damon fucking hates being at home these days. Even before his mom left, being home feels like a ticking time bomb. He doesn't know when his dad will blow up again, or what will set him off. Thankfully, Friday night's game was an uneventful rout, and Giuseppe drank himself into a coma before he and Stefan even got home that night. But Damon spends all day Saturday tip-toeing around, trying to avoid even a glimpse of his father, and by late afternoon he's going out of his mind.
He fires off a quick text to Elena - pick you up in 10, be ready - and grabs his keys.
She's waiting on her front porch when he pulls up, and he smirks. She climbs in the passenger seat, shoots him a worried look he's become all too familiar with these days. "Are you okay?" she asks. "What's going on?"
He rolls his eyes, smiles at her. "Can't a guy whisk a girl away on a surprise date because he wants to?"
She blushes, smiles a little. "I guess I shouldn't complain," she murmurs, leans in to kiss him. "Hi."
"Hi," he grins. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," she agrees, buckling her seatbelt as he pulls out of the drive. "Where's Stefan, and more importantly, where does he think you are?"
"He has a date with Rebekah," Damon reminds her. "Guess we had the same idea."
"Oh yeah?" she questions. "What's that?"
"That a pretty girl can help you cope with just about anything," he smirks.
She smiles at him, and her eyes soften. "Damon," she says quietly.
He knows she's worried about him. He knows that Stefan poured his heart out to her, told her everything, and that she's probably waiting for Damon to do the same. He's just not ready to hash it all out yet. He doesn't wear his emotions on his sleeve like Stefan does; he needs time to process, time to rationalize, time to pull himself together.
"I'm not shutting you out," he insists, answering her silent plea. "I just don't wanna think about it right now, okay? I just wanna be with you."
He reaches across the gearshift, takes her hand where it sits across her lap, fits their fingers together. She bites her lip to hide her grin. "Okay," she relents.
They drive and drive and drive until there's nothing but open road and farm land, and when the sun starts to fade he pulls over and parks a safe distance from the roadside. They lay on the hood of his Camaro, her head on his chest, and they talk about mindless, menial things while they watch the sun set.
"Are you okay?" she asks quietly when the conversation lulls. He thought for a moment she'd fallen asleep.
"I'm fine," he insists, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. "You don't have to worry about me."
She sits up a little, links her hands on his chest, rests her chin on them so she can look at him. "I always worry about you," she admits. "Especially when Stefan shows up at my door on Thursday night and has a breakdown on my front porch, but I don't hear a word from you."
Damon winces. "He was always closer to Mom than I was," he admits quietly.
"You can't tell me this doesn't hurt you," Elena says, her pretty eyes boring into his searchingly.
"It hurts," he concedes. "It's shitty that she just left us with him, even though she knows how he is, what he's done, what he's capable of. But she chose her side a long time ago, and after she defended him last weekend…" he shakes his head. "I'm just done."
"But aren't you worried about your dad?" she wonders, her eyes betraying her anxiety. "Stefan is."
Jesus, Stefan. He knows they're best friends, but did he really have to burden her with this kind of worry? It's not her burden to bear, and he hates that she feels like it is. "I can handle my dad, and so can Stefan. Please don't worry," he adds quietly, bringing his hand up to rest on her cheek tenderly.
She closes her eyes, lets out a breath. God, she's beautiful. Her compassion and understanding blows him away. He sits up so they're lying side by side, facing each other, and he leans in to kiss her. He loves that he doesn't have to deny those urges anymore, not when they're alone. He wraps an arm around her waist, pulls her body flush with his, and she sighs, soft and content. His tongue tangles with hers, and before he can even think, he's flipped them over so she's lying underneath him. She giggles into his mouth, and he runs his hand down the side of her body. Fuck, she doesn't even know what she does to him, does she?
"Damon," she breathes as his lips trail down the side of her neck. He nips at the skin there, careful not to leave a mark, determined to make her speechless. Apparently, it doesn't work, because she says his name again, more insistently, and he finally looks up to meet her eyes, watches as her nerves bubble to the surface. It's like a bucket of cold water over his head, and he pulls himself away from her.
"We should slow down," he says quietly, to ease her worries.
She smiles at him, obviously relieved, and bites her lip. She nods. "Yeah, we should."
He rolls off of her, sits up straight, wants to roll his eyes at himself. She has this way of making him act like a horny fifteen year old who can't keep his hands to himself. He's better than that; he can be patient. He's not sure what her experience level is, but he's not an asshole and he won't make assumptions. They really should talk about that at some point, he decides, if they ever decide to get serious.
But then, serious would entail that they don't have to sneak around to see each other all the time. Yeah, that might be a better place to start.
"How long do you think we'll have to do this?" he wonders aloud as she rises to sit next to him.
"Do what?" she asks, running her hands through her hair to tame it.
"Sneak around like this," he says.
She sighs, and he doesn't want to push her, but he really wants to hear her answer. "I don't know," she admits quietly.
"Well," he starts. "Do you like me?"
That gets a smile out of her. "Damon," she laughs.
"Okay, that's good, because I like you, too. Do you want to be with me?"
Her eyes widen. Yeah, he realizes, they haven't really had the 'what-are-we' talk, because that goes hand-in-hand with the whole secrecy thing. What a tangled web they've weaved. She swallows, looks away from him, turns back to face him again. "Do you want to be with me?" she asks.
He grins crookedly at her. "Only since I was, like, twelve," he confesses.
"Shut up," she laughs, pushing at his shoulder in jest.
"I'm serious," he chuckles. "What, you don't believe I had a crush on you way back when?"
"No, because I had a crush on you way back when," she admits, her cheeks pink, "and I definitely would have known if you liked me back."
Damon rolls his eyes. "I'd like to think I was a little bit smoother than that, even at twelve," he smirks. "So what we're saying is that we've pretty much wasted the last five years being idiots when we've both liked each other this whole time."
She laughs, but she doesn't respond, and then she's quiet for a moment. "You didn't like me freshman year," she remembers, her voice soft and timid.
He pales a little, clears his throat. Shit. "That's not true," he protests, because it's not.
"Do you even remember?" she wonders. "That comment you made to me in the hallway that day?"
Fuck. How could he forget, honestly? He was so hurt and upset that day, and he doesn't even remember why, really. He just knows that he saw Stefan and Elena laughing by her locker, and Damon then watched as she walked right past him, didn't even acknowledge his presence. Sixteen-year-old Damon didn't know how to handle that kind of hurt, that kind of rejection, and he lashed out. She's just a pathetic little orphan girl, he'd said, responding to a classmate who wondered aloud who she was. He knew she'd hear him, knew she'd be hurt; he wanted the satisfaction of knowing he could hurt her, that she cared enough to be hurt.
"Of course I do," he murmurs, turning his body so he can look her square in the eye. "And I know I've said I'm sorry a thousand times, but I've never told you how sorry I am for that. I was hurt, and I was angry, but that doesn't excuse what I said. How I made you feel."
"I cried through third period in the bathroom that day," she admits honestly, and he feels his heart constrict in his chest. Jesus. She sighs. "I forgave you a long time ago. I'm not trying to make you feel bad, okay? I just want you to know. I want you to know how much I liked you, how much I missed you. And how much you hurt me."
He takes her hand in his, relieved when she doesn't pull it away from him. "It'll never happen again," he promises, his eyes boring into hers. "Not if I can help it."
She gives him a little half grin, leans her head against his shoulder, lets out a long breath. He wraps his arm around her shoulders to keep her close, wonders how he got so lucky to have a girl like her by his side. He'd be stupid to question it, though, so he's just gonna enjoy this moment, take it in, and wait patiently for their next moment together. He'd wait forever if she asked him to.
… … …
Stefan knows the last thing Elena wants to hear is more talk about Caroline, but honestly, after his epiphany last week, he has to talk to someone. He never got a chance to before his mom left, and then he's been a little preoccupied this weekend, but by Sunday morning, he's practically bursting at the seams. Considering he's running low on people to talk to these days, he doesn't really have much choice.
They're sitting in their usual booth at the Grill on Sunday afternoon, and he's trying to keep it casual, nonchalant, but she knows him too well. "What's going on?" she asks, popping a fry into her mouth, her brow quirked knowingly.
"How do you do that?"
"Stefan," she laughs. "I've known you since we were babies. You're not that hard to figure out."
He lets out a long breath. "I just… realized something last week. An epiphany, if you will."
"Interesting," she hums, resting her arms on the table. "Enlighten me."
"I got into a fight with Caroline," he begins.
She rolls her eyes. "I've heard this story before."
Stefan ignores her, continues the story. "And she said something about how she practically threw herself at me, and I barely blinked. Which is completely ridiculous, because she turned my fucking world upside down." Elena's eyes widen at his curse, and her eyes flit to the family having lunch at a nearby table. He doesn't care. "But then I thought about what happened with Damon… how his perspective on what happened between us was completely different than mine. And I realized, what if that's what's happening here? What if I'm just repeating history?"
She's got a little grin on her lips, her eyes sparkling with pride. "There's two sides to every story," she finishes.
"Yes," Stefan agrees. "I've just always been too selfishly wrapped up in my own things to realize it."
"Well," Elena says carefully. "The fact that you recognize that you're repeating history means you can make it right before it's too late."
"I'm not ready to do that with Damon," he admits. "And I don't even know where to start with Caroline."
Elena shrugs, sips her drink. "Start by being a friend," she suggests. "She was pretty worried about you, after last week. She made me tell her what was going on. I did my best, without giving her too many specifics, but she has her own suspicions."
"I think she was trying to tell me that," he confesses sheepishly. "When I kind of blew up at her."
"God, Stefan," Elena chuckles, shaking her head. "You can be a real piece of work sometimes."
"Hard-headed and stubborn as a mule," he recites. "My mom used to say that."
Used to, he thinks, shaking off the stab of pain he feels in his chest. She's not dead, he reminds himself. She's just gone.
"What are you gonna do about Rebekah?" Elena asks then, taking a bite of her salad.
Stefan shrugs. "What about Rebekah?" he asks.
Elena rolls her eyes. "Come on, Stefan, you can't be that obtuse. You can't be with her when you feel the way you do about Caroline."
"Why not?" he wonders as Elena gapes at him. "I like her, and Caroline still has Klaus. This doesn't change anything, other than that I know what went wrong now."
"You've got to be kidding me," she deadpans. "How does this not change anything? Don't you know by now that she's hiding with Klaus because of what happened with you?" she insists. "If you make things right, Klaus goes away."
"It's not that simple," Stefan argues.
"Yes it is!" Elena explodes. "It is that simple. When are you both going to realize how stupid you're being, how much time you're wasting?" She lowers her voice. "Do you want to be with her, Stefan?"
"Yes," he admits, bewildered.
"Good. Then stop talking about it and do something."
Before he can blink, she's up and out the door, and he's wondering how he managed to screw up that conversation so quickly. She's right - he can be a real piece of work sometimes.
But on some level, he knows she's right. It's really not fair to Rebekah, because he does actually like her – he thinks she's great, and she's been nice to have around through this whole ordeal. It's not like he confides in her or anything, but she's fun to hang out with and he enjoys her company. But he knows that she likes him a lot, wants to be more than just the girl he takes on a date from time to time, and he can't really give that to her. Not when he's practically head over heels for someone else.
He doesn't know what he's gonna do about Caroline, but he thinks he knows a good place to start.
… … …
Damon remembers back when Elena first started tutoring him, when he would find himself distracted by the urge to kiss her, wondering what it might be like. He wonders how the hell he's expected to concentrate now when he actually knows what it feels like, how easy it would be, how good it would feel.
"Damon," Elena scolds, looking up from her history textbook, her eyes narrowed.
He just smirks at her. "You're cute when you're bossy."
She rolls her eyes, but she can't hide her little grin. "You have calculus homework," she reminds him.
"How the hell am I supposed to focus on calculus when you're sitting next to me?"
"Down, boy," Alaric laughs from behind the stove.
They decided to move their Monday tutoring session to Elena's house tonight. Stefan's out with Rebekah once again, and when Elena told Damon that Alaric was making his famous lasagna for dinner, he basically invited himself over. (She didn't seem to mind.) He kind of likes that they always end up sitting at the breakfast bar, chatting with Alaric, even if it means he can't just lean over and kiss her whenever he wants. He likes Ric. If he weren't also his history teacher, he'd almost say he considers Ric a friend.
When Elena leaves the room to talk to Bonnie on the phone, Damon's once again distracted, but this time by Ric.
"You two seem chummy."
There's a thinly veiled insinuation in that statement, and Damon hears it loud and clear. "I'd say things are going well," he agrees.
"Yeah?" Ric challenges. He leans forward on the counter, looks Damon square in the eye. "How well?"
Damn. Ric can actually be kinda scary when he wants to be. Damon smirks. "The fact that you're asking means you already know."
"I know her side," he says, his expression blank. He's not giving anything away. "I want to know your side."
"My side?" Damon's brow lifts in surprise. He waits for Ric to elaborate, but he just watches Damon carefully, his gaze unwavering. He supposes this is less intimidating than it would be if her father were here. Grayson Gilbert was a kind man, but when it came to his daughters, he could be pretty damn scary. "I'm not messing around with her, Ric."
"Okay."
"I'm serious," he insists, dropping all teasing and levity from his voice. "Elena means more to me than that. This isn't a game to me."
"I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, Damon, but you're not giving me much to go on here."
"I'm falling in love with her," Damon blurts.
Ric reels back, his eyes wide, his brow quirked. The surprise is evident, and Damon's sure his own face must be a mirror image. He honestly can't believe he said that out loud, especially since he's pretty sure he's never even thought the words before, about anyone. But he doesn't feel panicked, and he doesn't feel like he needs to take it back. He feels calm, because it might be the most true statement he's ever made in his life.
He's falling for her, fast. It's been building for a long time - since they were just kids, really - and now that he knows what it's like, what it could be like, he's finding that he doesn't want to be without her. He feels better when she's around. That sounds stupid and cheesy and Damon wants to smack himself across the face but it's true. She makes everything more bearable, and he needs that, especially now.
"I'm falling in love with her," he repeats, quieter, more sure this time. "But how do I know if she feels the same?"
Ric just smirks. "You'll know," he assures him.
"How?" Damon presses. "How am I supposed to even begin to go there when she can't even tell her best friend, my brother, that there's something going on between us? Hell, he doesn't even know she's been tutoring me for the last few months, let alone that there have been… other developments."
"Trust me," Ric insists, "she's struggling with that, too. She's dug herself a pretty deep hole, here, and she has to find a way to dig herself out. I can't do that for her, and neither can you, though it seems like you want to."
"If it means we could just be together without all the drama, then yes," he agrees, "I do."
"There will always be drama, Damon," Ric chuckles. "She's dating her best friend's brother. The three of you will always be intertwined in ways that you'll never be able to untangle. There's bound to be drama. It's how you deal with the drama that can make or break you." The front door opens, closes, and Ric stands up straight, looks Damon in the eye one last time. "Keep that in mind."
Ric's eyes move to the doorway, his grin widening as Jenna enters the room, throwing her keys down on the kitchen counter and draping her jacket over the chair Elena vacated. "It smells amazing in here," she gushes, leaning over the island to kiss her fiancé.
Damon just watches them discretely for a few moments, the two of them completely in their own little world. They chat and laugh and kiss, and they don't care who's watching because they don't have to. He wants that. He wants to walk through the halls with Elena, hold her hand, kiss her cheek. God, even just talking to her without looking over his shoulder would be a welcome change.
He'll wait. He's so damn wrapped around her finger that of course he'll wait. He just wonders how long she'll make him.
… … …
Elena feels like all she ever does anymore is worry. Worry about Stefan and his obvious confusion over Caroline. Worry about Damon and what he really wants from their relationship. Worry about finally telling Stefan what's been going on with Damon. And of course, worry about Stefan and Damon and their family situation, which seems to get worse by the day.
It doesn't help that she's getting mixed signals from the boys. One day, Stefan's crying on her front porch, telling her how scared he is, how much worse everything's gonna get, and the next thing she knows, Damon's telling her not to worry, that they'll be fine, that everything will be okay. She's more inclined to believe Stefan's version of events, simply because she knows Damon wants to protect her, doesn't want her to take on burdens that aren't hers to bear. Well, she's got news for him: she cares about him, about both of them, so their burdens are her burdens, whether he likes it or not.
And then there's this whole drama with Stefan and Caroline. She constantly feels like she's being pulled in two different directions. They're not asking her to choose sides, and she appreciates that, but it's getting more and more difficult for her to watch the two of them struggle with what they so obviously feel for each other. If she were a less considerate person, she'd just lock them both in a closet together until they either killed each other or jumped each other's bones.
She's standing next to Caroline during the football game, their pom poms by their sides, when she finally decides she's done staying out of it.
"Stefan broke up with Rebekah," she says casually.
Caroline doesn't look at her, but Elena can see her eyes narrow anyway. "Did he," she mutters. "Huh."
"You have any feelings about that?"
"It doesn't matter if I do," she shrugs. "We just want different things."
"Oh, for God's sake," Elena groans. "You like each other. It doesn't get more simple than that."
"You said you were staying out of it," Caroline snaps. "So stay out of it."
"I'm also your friend," Elena counters. "And I know you're trying to protect yourself, but you don't need to, Caroline."
Caroline doesn't respond, and Elena knows she's hit the nail on the head. Her confidence has taken a blow this year, between her breakup with Matt and Stefan turning her away, and she's afraid she'll get hurt again. She's afraid to let someone in, let them have the power to break her heart. It's easy for her to hide out with Klaus, where she can keep him at arm's length; it's harder for her to admit that she likes Stefan enough to want more than that. Because that gives him the power, the control, and she's not ready for that.
Elena hates that she's the only one who can see this for what it is. She wants her friends to be happy, wants to help them get there if she can, but she can't if they won't let her.
… … …
When they lose the final game of the season, Damon's shocked, if he's being honest. It's an irrelevant loss, really; they still won their division, and they're still going to the playoffs with a great chance to get back to the state title game. But it's still embarrassing, especially because the team they lost to had only one win on the season. He doesn't have any excuses. His head wasn't in it, and he could tell Stefan's wasn't either. He doesn't think anyone would blame them, not if people knew what they've gone through in the last two weeks.
The only thing he dreads is his father's reaction.
He notices Stefan across the locker room, takes note of how they're both moving as slow as possible, packing everything into their gym bags with care. They're the last two players there, and he knows they're both feeling the same sense of foreboding dread. Finally, they're both standing at the door, trying to gather up the strength to head home.
"Ready?" Stefan asks reluctantly.
"Guess we better get it over with," Damon responds.
He's thinking he has at least another ten minutes; the time it takes to get home, plus the extra time he can squeeze out by taking the back roads. So he's not entirely prepared when they walk out of the fieldhouse and find their father leaning against the chain-link fence around the field.
"There they are!" Giuseppe yells, his speech slurred. Damon's eyes flash to the bottle of bourbon in his hand, notes that there's maybe one sip left in the bottle. So he's drunk. Fantastic.
"Dad," Damon says, moving toward his father warily. "What are you still doing here?"
"Just came to congratulate you boys on a great season," he smirks, malice flashing in his eyes. "But you don't deserve it, after that shit show out there tonight." His upper lip curls in disgust. "Makes me wonder why I even keep you two around, failures that you are."
"Dad," Stefan pleads. "You're drunk."
"You bet your ass I am!" Giuseppe roars, slamming the empty bottle down on the concrete. Shards of glass ricochet in all directions, and Damon puts his hands up to protect his face. "I had to be to get through that disgrace of a performance!"
"Be quiet," Damon hisses. "You're making a scene."
Giuseppe lunges forward, and before Damon can blink, he's nose to nose with his father. "Don't you speak to me that way, you son of a bitch!"
"Dad, please," Stefan urges, pushing at Giuseppe's shoulder. "Wait until we get home."
Everything happens so quickly that Damon can't really even process it all at once. All he knows is one moment, his father's angry stare is boring into his own, and the next moment, Stefan's on the ground beside him, and Alaric has Giuseppe pinned to the outside wall of the fieldhouse.
"Who the fuck are you?" Giuseppe spits, wrestling against Alaric's hold.
"Someone who made a promise," Alaric says lowly. Damon's brow furrows in confusion, but he doesn't have too much time to dwell on that.
"Get off me, you bastard!" Giuseppe finally pushes Alaric off of him. He smirks, staggering as he drunkenly tries to catch his balance. "Just havin' a chat with my sons, Officer," he sneers, holds his hands up in mock fear. "Don't arrest me." He laughs deliriously.
"Damon," Alaric says calmly. "Stefan. You're staying with us tonight. Don't go to your house, go straight to ours."
Damon just looks at Alaric in bewilderment, catches Stefan's eye, sees the same shock on his brother's face. He hikes his gym bag further up on his shoulder. He wants to say something, but the look Ric is giving him says that now is not the time, so he just gives him a subtle nod. He helps Stefan up off the ground. "You okay?" he asks lowly.
Stefan nods. "Let's get out of here."
Damon turns to Ric. "Ric-"
"Go," Alaric insists sternly. "I'll be right behind you."
"You bastards!" Giuseppe yells angrily as they turn and head for the parking lot. "You're not welcome in my house anymore, you hear me? Don't come back!"
Good riddance, Damon thinks to himself. There's nothing left there for him anyway.
… … …