You kicked the motel door shut behind you, soaked in rain and regret.

“Remind me again,” you muttered, dropping your bag on the bed, “why I agreed to this?”

Damon was already stretched out on the other bed like he owned the place. “Because I’m the only one who knows where the talisman is.”

“And you’re the only one I’d happily stake in your sleep.”

He grinned. “Careful. That almost sounded flirtatious.”

You rolled your eyes and peeled off your jacket. “If I wanted to flirt, I’d pick someone with a soul.”

Damon’s smirk faltered for just a second. Just long enough for you to notice.

You didn’t apologize.

He sat up, eyes narrowing. “You know, you keep acting like I’m the villain, but we both know you’ve done worse.”

You faced him, arms crossed. “At least I own it.”

He stood now, closing the space between you in two slow steps. “At least I’m still here.”

That shut you up.

The rain pounded harder outside, and inside, the silence stretched.

You stared at him. At the tired edge in his eyes. At the way he looked at you like maybe he wasn’t proud of who he was, but he still wanted to be seen.

You hated that you understood.

“You sleep on the floor,” you said.

Damon smiled, soft and sarcastic. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”