Road Trip from Hell (Reader, Damon, Caroline, and Klaus)
A simple road trip to New Orleans turns into absolute chaos when Damon refuses to follow directions, Caroline tries to keep the peace, Klaus keeps making sarcastic comments from the back seat, and youâre the only one who actually knows how to read a map.
It was supposed to be a simple road trip. A straight shot from Mystic Falls to New Orleans. No detours. No distractions. No disasters. But that plan flew out the window the moment Damon decided he was the best person to drive.
"GPS is for amateurs," he smirked, ignoring the blinking route on the screen. "Real men trust their instincts."
"Real men also donât get us lost in Georgia when weâre supposed to be going southwest," you muttered from the passenger seat, clutching the crumpled map like it was the only anchor to sanity in the car.
From the back seat, Klaus gave a low chuckle. "This is delightful. I havenât been this entertained since the French Revolution."
Caroline, stuck in the middle between a murderous Original and a reckless Salvatore, was already on her third attempt to play peacemaker. "Can we please just follow the map? Itâs literally printed with directions."
Damon waved her off. "Itâs just a suggestion."
"Itâs not a suggestion if itâs the only thing keeping us from ending up in a ditch, Damon," you snapped.
Another wrong turn. Another heavy sigh from you. Yet another overly amused remark from Klaus.
"If he takes one more exit labeled âScenic Route,â I may compel him to walk the rest of the way," Klaus drawled, resting his head back, utterly unfazed.
Caroline turned to you with pleading eyes. "Please tell me you know where we are."
You pointed at the map. "If we donât die of dehydration or each other, we might make it to New Orleans by tomorrow morning."
Damon flashed a grin. "See? Adventure builds character."
Klaus hummed thoughtfully. "So does trauma."
The tension in the car thickened with every passing hour. Damon insisted on choosing every pit stop: a suspicious roadside diner with a neon sign that flickered like it was about to short-circuit, a gas station that looked abandoned until a toothless man emerged with a shotgun and a smile, and a bizarre detour into a county fair where Klaus disappeared for an hour and returned with cotton candy and blood on his sleeve.
"Donât ask," he said with a wink when Caroline noticed. She turned a shade paler than usual, clutching her purse like a lifeline.
As if things werenât already spiraling, the radio only played static unless Damon hit it just rightâthen it screeched into heavy metal or country breakup songs. There was no in-between. At some point, you gave up and opened the window, hoping the fresh air would stop the incoming headache.
Nightfall came, and still, Damon refused to admit he was lost. You were running out of snacks, patience, and phone battery. Caroline, bless her overly optimistic heart, kept trying to organize a new route using her nearly-dead phone, but Google Maps had apparently given up too.
"We passed that tree before," you said, your voice dry with exhaustion.
"You canât prove that," Damon shot back, eyes on the road, smirk in place.
"It has a face painted on it. In red. I think we can prove it."
Klaus, clearly enjoying the spiral, chimed in again. "Perhaps itâs fate. Maybe weâre meant to perish together in the wilds of the South."
He raised an eyebrow but kept driving. You reached for the steering wheel.
"Touch that wheel, and I swearâ"
"What? Youâll get us lost in another state?" you challenged.
The car swerved slightly, but Damon grudgingly pulled over. You threw open the door, walked around, and yanked open his.
"Move."
Klaus clapped slowly from the back seat. "Bravo. The only sensible one among us."
Once you slid behind the wheel, peaceâtenuous as it wasâsettled over the car. Caroline exhaled like she hadnât breathed in two hours. Damon sulked in the passenger seat like a grounded teenager.
"Now," you said, eyes on the road, hands on the wheel, "we follow the actual directions. No shortcuts. No scenic routes. No distractions."
"Whereâs the fun in that?" Damon grumbled.
"In making it there alive," Caroline and you said in unison.
Klaus chuckled. "Well, this just got less fun. But considerably safer."
As you finally merged onto the correct highway, the city lights of New Orleans shimmering faintly in the distance, there was a collective sigh of relief. And then the tire pressure light came on.
"Youâve got to be kidding me," you muttered.
Klaus laughed. Damon cursed. Caroline reached for the last protein bar and broke it into three pieces.
"If the car explodes, I just want it on record that I voted for flying," Caroline mumbled.
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