Kit let out a huff and walked past him, flicking the light switch on the wall.

The overhead bulb hummed to life, illuminating a generic looking motel room. There was a cheap looking plush chair shoved into the corner, and a small round table right next to it. It was a mirror image of the room they had just left Elena and Jeremy in.

Except, this room only had one bed, not two.

Kit dropped her duffel bag onto the bedspread. She turned around slowly, her eyes narrowing as she locked onto Damon.

He was leaning against the closed doorframe, his hands back in his pockets. He raised his eyebrows, the picture of perfectly feigned innocence. "What?"

Kit pointed at the mattress. "There's one bed."

Damon's smirk returned. "Very observant. This is why we brought you along."

She groaned in pure, unfiltered frustration, dragging a hand down her face. "Why did you do this? Do you enjoy making things difficult?"

Damon brought a hand to his chest, his blue eyes widening in mock offense. "Me? Difficult? I'm hurt." He pushed off the doorframe and walked further into the room. "If you must know, this was the only room available close to Elena and Jeremy. It'll be a whole lot harder to protect all of you if we were in a room across the lot."

"Would've been easier if we were all in the same room," she grumbled back.

"Hey, I figured you wanted your privacy. You're welcome."

Kit saw the gleam in Damon's eyes. She knew damn well that this wasn't the only reason he'd gotten a single.

"Fine. Whatever. I call dibs on the bed," she said immediately.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize this was a middle school sleepover," Damon teased, dropping his jacket on the back of the armchair. "We can share."

"You aren't even going to sleep," Kit shot back, grabbing her toiletry bag from the duffel. "Sit on the chair. Or the floor. Hang upside down from the ceiling like a bat for all I care. The bed is mine."

Damon only snorted, a sharp, amused sound.

"I'm taking a shower," she grumbled, turning on her heel and marching toward the small bathroom.

Damon waved a hand at her retreating back. "Don't use all the hot water. I'll keep your spot on the bed warm while you're gone."

Kit let out another frustrated groan, stepping into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind her.

She turned on the shower, wincing at the high pitched squeal of the pipes. The water heat up quickly, but the pressure was terrible. She stripped down and stepped under the spray, letting the heat wash away the stress of the day. For a few minutes, she just stood there, eyes closed, letting the water beat down on her shoulders.

The hot water didn't last long. It went lukewarm as she was rinsing off her soap, and then to freezing cold before she was able to even use shampoo. With a sigh, Kit shut the water off and stepped out, beginning to dry off.

She unzipped her bag to grab her pajamas. A wave of horror washed over her.

When she had packed her bag before they left, she had fully assumed she was going to be rooming with Elena, or at the very least, they'd all be in the same room together. Elena and Jeremy wouldn't care that she brought her comfortable fleece pants covered in cartoon dinosaurs. Damon, however, would have a field day with this.

Kit weighed her options. It was either the dinosaur pajamas, sleeping in her jeans, or not wearing pants at all. She would never be able to get rest if she wore her jeans, and not wearing pants at all was out of the question.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath. She swallowed her pride and pulled the pajamas on, the fabric instantly warming her cold skin. She threw on a worn, oversized tshirt. She gave her damp hair one last aggressive rub with the towel, and opened the door.

Damon was sitting in the armchair by the window. His boots were propped up on the table in front of him. His button-up shirt was completely open, revealing the pale expanse of his chest. He had a flask in his hand, the metal glinting in the dim light. Kit wondered if he had brought bourbon or blood along. Maybe a mix of both, knowing him.

He turned his head as she stepped out of the bathroom. His eyes lazily dragged down her oversized shirt, landing squarely on the dinosaur pajama bottoms.

A slow, wicked smirk played on his lips. "Cute."

Kit felt her face heat up. She grumbled something incoherent, keeping her eyes glued to the floor as she marched over to the bed. She yanked the heavy floral comforter back, practically threw herself onto the mattress, and pulled the blankets up to her chin.

"Goodnight," she mumbled, reaching over the click off the bedside lamp.

The room plunged into darkness, save the faint glow of the moonlight bleeding through the thin curtains.

"Night," Damon echoed back. She heard him unscrew the cap of his flask, and the creaking of the chair as he shifted his weight back.

Kit lay there for a couple of minutes, her eyes adjusting to the dark. She was looking at Damon. He really was handsome. It was a dangerous thought, one she usually tried to suppress, but in the quiet dark of the room, she let her mind wander. The sharp line of his profile was illuminated by the light outside. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, the tightness in his jaw, the way his throat worked as he swallowed whatever liquid he had in his flask.

After a few moments, Damon shifted his gaze. He caught her staring.

Panic spiked in Kit's chest. She needed to say something to cover up the silence.

"It would suck, being on the other side," she blurted. It was the first thing that came to her mind, lingering from the conversation from earlier.

Damon raised an eyebrow at her.

Kit swallowed hard, continuing before the lost her nerve. "I mean, Jeremy said Rose said she was fine, but… After a while, it has to get lonely. You can't talk to anyone. Can't touch anyone. Just… Wandering around. Watching your loved ones move on without being able to reach out. Forever." Her voice grew thick, a sudden, heavy sadness creeping into her chest. "I can't imagine being in that scenario. That fate seems so much worse than death itself."

The thought of being alone forever, untouched and unseen, scared the shit out of her. She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, folding her hands over her chest, interlocking her fingers.

A second later, she flinched as the mattress dipped heavily beside her. The springs whined in protest. Kit opened her eyes to find Damon lying on his back right next to her. He had thrown one arm casually behind his head, his face turned toward her. Even in the dark, she could feel the weight of his stare.

"Being alone for eternity with nobody to bug me?" Damon murmured, his voice a low, rough rumble. "Sounds like heaven."

Kit snorted, the heavy feeling in her chest breaking just a little. She rolled her eyes and turned onto her side to face him, pulling the blankets tighter. "Out of everyone I know, I am absolutely certain you'd be the most miserable if you were stuck over there."

Damon smirked, his eyes flashing. "Oh, please. I'd finally get some peace and quiet away from you."

She kicked him lightly under the covers. "Asshole." He didn't even flinch.

The silence settled over them again, but it wasn't uncomfortable this time.

Kit traced the stitching of the blanket with her thumb, changing the subject. "Elena seemed surprised… When Jeremy mentioned the dream you gave to Rose," she said quietly.

Damon's jaw tightened. He looked away from her, staring up at the ceiling. He gave a casual, dismissive shrug. "Didn't notice."

"You didn't tell her?" she prodded.

"No," his tone was flat.

"Why not?"

Damon was quiet for a moment before answering. "It wasn't about her." Another pause. He let out a breath, turning his head just enough to catch her eye. "The only reason I told you was because you wouldn't leave me the hell alone. I just wanted to shut you up."

A small, genuine smile pulled at Kit's lips. She remembered that night. It was the first time she had ever seen him so vulnerable. What she saw from him that night… It was something he rarely let people see.

She rested her head on her arm, looking at him steadily. "Why are you so afraid to let people see the good in you?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, stripped of any teasing or judgment. She was genuinely curious.

She saw Damon swallow. She could almost see the inner workings of his mind—the rapid calculation on whether it was worth opening up a little, the instinct to deflect, the urge to push her away.

But for once, he was honest.

He turned his head fully to meet her eyes. The guard dropped. "Because when people see good, they expect good." His voice was barely a whisper. "I don't want to have to live up to anyone's expectations."

Kit blinked. she understood that sentiment more than he probably knew. She knew how it felt. The kinder you were, the more people took from you. The moment you fuck up, or set a boundary, or say no, you're suddenly the bad guy. For Damon, it was just easier to start off as the bad guy off the bat. It was safer.

Kit knew better. She knew who he really was.

She looked at him for another long moment, the intensity of his state suddenly making her feel incredibly self conscious. A flush of embarrassment crept up her neck. She scrambled to break the heavy atmosphere, rolling hastily onto her back with a loud sigh.

"Well," she said softly, staring at the ceiling. "I'm gonna try to get some sleep… Before Rose finds Mary."

Damon let out a low hum of acknowledgement next to her. "Sure. I'll wake you up when I hear something."

Kit hummed back and closed her eyes.

She did her best to fall asleep, she really did, but her mind was way too active. Thoughts raced through her head at a million miles an hour. She was still worried about Kol. She was anxious about whether or not Rose would find Mary. She was stressed about finding out whose sireline all of her friends were tethered to.

Mostly, she was all too aware of Damon laying inches away from her.

She had slept with him before. There had been nights where she was drunk and emotional, completely overwhelmed, where she had needed someone to be there for her. On those nights, she had been brave enough to ask him to stay, and he always did. He'd usually be gone by the time she woke up, and they would move past it like it didn't even happen.

But right now, she was completely sober. Her mind was clear. This was different.

She focused hard on keeping her breathing deep and even, trying desperately to pretend to be asleep. She willed her body to relax, but it didn't do much to slow down the frantic pounding in her chest.

As if Damon could sense her spiraling anxiety, she heard the rustle of the sheets. His voice came softly through the dark.

"You okay?"

Her eyes opened. She turned her head to look at him. He had rolled onto his side, propped up slightly on his elbow, staring down at her. His expression was soft, smoothed over by genuine concern.

Kit wanted to kiss him.

The thought came up violently, crashing into her brain without warning. Her eyes flicked involuntarily down to his lips, and a second later, his eyes dropped down to hers. The air in the room suddenly felt incredibly thick. She knew, with absolute certainty, that he wanted to kiss her too.

She knew what would happen if they crossed that line. Once they broke that barrier, there was no going back to the way things were, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that kind of change. Especially not right now, when not only him, but all of her friends back home were depending on them finding what Original sireline they belonged to. This was not the time to complicate things.

That didn't mean she didn't want to be close to him, though.

Kit swallowed her nerves and scooted toward him across the bed, her movements hesitant. She closed the gap between them, tentatively bumping her forehead against his bare shoulder, silently asking to be held.

Damon went still for a second, but then he rolled back onto his back and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against his side. He squeezed her close, the heat radiating off of his skin. Kit nosed his collarbone, exhaling a long, shaky breath as his warmth enveloped her. She threw her leg over his, tangling their limbs together, and rested her trembling hand flat against his bare chest. His heart beat a little fast under her palm, mirroring her own nervous pulse, betraying his relaxed exterior.

Damon took his other hand and covered hers where it rested on his chest, pressing her palm down a little harder. He buried his face into her damp hair, letting out a low, content hum.

"Thought you didn't want to share the bed," he murmured.

"Just… Shut up, Damon," Kit whispered back against his skin.

His breath tickled her hair as he let out a laugh-exhale through his nose. He didn't say anything else, only holding her tighter against him. Wrapped in his arms, Kit finally felt the tension bleed out of her muscles.

It only took about ten minutes for her to fall asleep.

The sudden vibration of Damon's phone against the wood of the nightstand sounded like a jackhammer in the quiet room. Kit shifted against him, a tiny, displeased noise escaping the back of her throat.

Damon flattened his hand against her back in a silent, grounding pressure. Stay asleep.

She settled, her face pressing a little deeper into the hollow of his shoulder. Her hand twitched against his chest before going limp again.

Damon grabbed his phone off the nightstand, squinting at the light. It's only been a couple of hours since Kit fell asleep. He sighed as he saw it was a text from Elena.

"Rose found Mary. She lives in Kansas."

Damon stared at the screen. Great. Another road trip. Mary being close by would have been too easy.

He tapped out a reply with his thumb, the screen casting a faint blue glow over his face.

"We'll be ready in 45"

He hit send and placed his phone back onto the nightstand, face down.

Forty-five minutes was a massive exaggeration. Whenever Kit woke up, she'd scramble out of bed, drag a brush through her hair for 30 seconds, get dressed, and be standing by the door in ten minutes flat. Fifteen, tops. Damon was already dressed, still in the clothes from yesterday. All he had to do was get his jacket on.

They could be in the car and on the road in twenty minutes, but the thought of moving right now and breaking whatever the hell this was, made his chest tight.

Damon let his head fall back against the pillow, turning his face just enough to press his nose into her hair again.

He'd seen the hesitation in Kit's eyes earlier. The want. He saw the exact moment she realized she wanted to kiss him, and the exact moment she painstakingly talked herself out of it.

He had wanted to close the distance anyway, to prove that she didn't have to overthink it, that she could just do what she wanted without having to feel that guilt. But he hadn't. He let her set the boundary, because he learned pushing her was the fastest way to make her run in the other direction.

It was getting harder to pretend.

They called this friendship. It was the safest word they used to categorize what they had. Friends didn't do this. Friends didn't lay awake in the dark, looking at each other the way they had earlier. His friends didn't quiet the violent noise in his head with a single touch. Only Kit did that.

Damon shifted a fraction, pulling her more securely against his side. She was so warm. His eyes focused on the wallpaper peeling on the far wall of the room.

Thirty-eight minutes left.

He wasn't going to wake her up until the very last second. He wanted this moment to last as long as possible, before they went back to pretending that friendship was all this was. He let her fill his senses— The warmth of her body pressed against his, her scent, the sound of her slow, steady heartbeat and breathing.

Twenty-three minutes left.

Kit stirred against him. Her breathing shifted, becoming less deep. She was waking up.

Damon stayed still, watching her eyelashes flutter before her eyes slowly opened. She blinked up at him, still half-asleep, her guard completely down.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved. She didn't pull away. Neither did he.

Then her eyes focused, awareness creeping back in, and he watched her remember where they were. What they were supposed to be doing. He heard the spike in her pulse.

"Rose found Mary," he said quietly, before the moment could stretch into something they both would have to acknowledge.

Kit nodded slowly. "How long do we have?"

"Twenty minutes."

She finally pulled back, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her face. The air felt colder where she'd been. He didn't like that.

"Okay," she said softly, not quite meeting his eyes. She almost seemed sad. "Let me get dressed."

-----

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