The Salvat0re boarding house was quiet for once — the kind of quiet that felt alive, like the walls were listening.

Outside, rain tapped steadily against the windows, thunder rolling in lazy waves across the sky. The air smelled faintly of bourbon and old books, the fire burning low in the hearth. You sat curled on the couch, one of Damon’s shirts hanging loosely off your shoulder, his scent still clinging to the fabric like static.

From across the room, Damon leaned against the doorframe, watching you the way he always did — like you were both a temptation and a secret he’d finally stopped trying to resist.

“You know,” he drawled, his voice a velvet threat wrapped in a smile, “for someone who’s been my best friend for over a century, you really took your time falling for me.”

You tilted your head, meeting his eyes with a smirk of your own. “You weren’t exactly easy to read, Salvatore.”

A low chuckle slipped from him — that danger0us, soft kind that could melt or destroy you depending on how it ended.

“Maybe I didn’t want you to read me,” he said, crossing the room until he stood in front of you. “Until now.”

His hand brushed your cheek, his thumb tracing just beneath your lip, and for a second, the world seemed to still.

You could hear his heartbeat — slower than a human’s, steadier than your own — and it was enough to make you forget what you both were.

Then, the front door slammed open.

“Damon.”

Stefan’s voice cut through the room like a blade. Elena followed him in, rain-soaked and trembling, her eyes immediately locking on you — on his shirt, his closeness, his hand still lingering at your face.

Damon didn’t move. “Wow,” he said dryly, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “didn’t realize we were expecting company.”

Elena’s voice cracked before she found her footing. “You and her? Seriously since when?”

His expression darkened, jaw tightening for just a second before that familiar smirk curved his lips again — cruel, defensive, but not quite hiding the truth. “Since I stopped waiting for someone who was never going to choose me.”

Thunder growled outside. The room seemed to hold its breath.

Stefan shifted, glancing between the three of you. “Damon—”

But Damon only stepped closer to you, the flicker of firelight dancing in his blue eyes. He leaned in, his voice dropping low enough that only vampires could hear — though you knew Elena heard every word anyway.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips brushing just beside your ear, “seems like the storm isn’t the only thing about to break tonight.”

You felt the ghost of a smile against your skin before he finally straightened, eyes never leaving yours.

“Tell me,” he said quietly, almost daring you now, “are you going to let them ruin our night?” His tone softened, the arrogance fading just slightly. “Because I’m not planning on pretending anymore.”