Denial ✘ Stamon ✘ Defan

Part 2

Damon was woken by nothing, it seemed, as he scanned the room for the source. It was still dark outside meaning he had slept no more than an hour or two, the moon still high in the sky. He wondered whether it was the consequence of a dream or a nightmare that his thoughts had forced consciousness upon him but he soon gave up his train of thought, he was awake now and he knew he wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon.

Stefan lay beside him, breathing gently, so close to snoring but managing to still seem vaguely attractive as his mouth hung open. 'Damon.' He mumbled, his voice caught mostly by the pillow half his face was stuffed into. It seemed he was oblivious as Damon stared at him, his eyes boring into his back. 'Stefan?' Damon whispered, gently coaxing his brother out of sleep by placing a slim hand on his shoulder and shaking gently. Although, it didn't seem to be working. Stefan, if anything, seemed to fall deeper into sleep. Damon groaned, he didn't think he could control his patience anymore. He had so many questions and he wanted answers, now.

'Stefan.' Damon hissed again, in hopes that a second attempt could coax his brother back into consciousness. Damon pouted as Stefan continued to make no indication of waking up. 'Brother!' He hissed, his tolerance for his brother coming to a halt rather quickly. Stefan, still, did not wake up.

Damon folded his arms, his frown increasing as he had a childish tantrum silently next to his sleeping brother. His angered patience lasted all of five seconds before his anger rushed back to him. 'Brother!' He hissed, punching his brother lightly on the shoulder- trying, at least, not to inflict any physical trauma to the man.

After another five minutes of waiting, his patience was long gone. The little thread of it left had been cut and his temper had flared drastically. Damon, in his moment of impatience, knew there was only one move left to make. Well, apart from the obvious, leaving him the hell alone. Damon didn't even consider it, in fact, he laughed at it- he was all too curious as to why his brother was in his bed. He wasn't going to give up now.

So, Damon hit him.

Not a gentle hit, not a punch even. A hit worthy of Klaus himself. Forceful and undoubtedly going to leave a mark, even on a vampire. Stefan shot up, clutching at his injured shoulder, his eyes landing on Damon. 'Damon?!' He breathed, shocked. His thoughts were running a mile a minute, Damon was back, hit him first, the breath flying from his lungs. Then, was the fact that he had just been punched with ridiculous force, which was now aching agonisingly. Third, was his brother's smile. Smile? It seemed so out of place in the situation, only furthering Stefan's fears.

'Hello, brother.' Damon smirked, his defence mechanism setting in place, his sarcasm first and foremost. Stefan could see past it though, he could see the burning curiosity. Stefan knew it would not be quelled without answers, ones that he would not give willingly.

Damon watched Stefan examine him, oblivious to the tremble in his brother's body as he panicked, going through each and every scenario possible. 'I thought you would be with Elena.' Stefan's voice shook, he was losing control of his own body- and quickly. He looked down ashamed, suddenly avoiding his brother's gaze. He had been caught in the act and although he didn't fear Damon's immediate reaction, he was not ready to be questioned on things he could not answer.

'Well, clearly, I'm not.' Damon smirked, unable to think of any other answer to the almost cryptic question. It gave him one answer, at least. Stefan was definitely not expecting Damon to return. Now, for the rest of those answers. Stefan didn't speak again, leaving it up to Damon to scavenge for the answers. Stefan sighed, fiddling with his fingers, trying to block out his situation. Anything was better than dwelling at this point.

'Why don't we go downstairs?' Damon suggested, the forceful tone behind it suggesting that it was more a demand than a question. He held his hand out for his brother to take, which he graciously did, and clasped their hands together before dragging Stefan from the bed. Their hands stayed intertwined for just seconds too long before Stefan pulled his hand away dramatically, a look of fake disgust plastered on his face to cover the heavy feeling of shame on his shoulders. He bowed his head and avoided looking at Damon as he led him down the winding staircase and into the parlour where Damon poured himself and Stefan a glass of bourbon if only just to clear their minds of worry.