chapter twenty-eight,

lifting his arm that hung around someone's torso and reaching over to the bedside table to grab his ringing phone. He paused for a second, suddenly realising that it was Marian who was lying next to him in his own bed. Her dress lay discarded on the floor, her underwear which had been flung off in a moment of excitement sat crumpled next to the door.

"What?" he grumbled into his phone, not checking who had called him.

"Hey, I—I called you ten times last night." It was Elena. "We need to talk."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Sorry, I've been busy," he said lazily, slowly lifting up the blanket; if she wasn't wearing her dress or her underwear, did that mean—?

"If you're mad at me, Damon, you need to get over it," Elena continued.

His eyes widened, realising that Marian was indeed naked. "Oh, I'm over it," he rushed, quickly letting the blanket fall. He collapsed into the bed as he hung up the phone without uttering another word to the doppelgänger. "Definitely over it."

Marian took a deep breath in, turning around to face him. "Not over me, I hope," she said softly.

"I could never get over you," he told her. "Not in a million years."

"Not even if I grew up and became a mean old woman who just wanted to sleep all day?" she asked childishly.

"Not even if you tried to kill me," he responded.

Marian smiled at him, biting her lip. He couldn't get over how perfect this all seemed to him. He was kidding himself if he didn't love the fact that he hadn't woken up alone, and even more if he didn't admit that he was ecstatic that it was her he'd woken up to. It just felt right to him, and he was unaware that she felt the same way.

"I'm gonna pee," she said quickly, pulling on the sheet and standing up, wrapping it around her.

"Oh, come on," Damon complained. "Now I'm gonna have to completely remake my bed."

Marian shook her head at him. "So immature," she muttered, turning and walking into the bathroom. Damon huffed and stood up from the bed, leisurely moving to his closet to pick out an outfit for the day.

"I'm not the teenager here," he argued.

"Technically, I'm over eight-hundred years older than you," she countered. Damon cringed as he heard her sit on the toilet—it was one thing that he wished, as a vampire, that he couldn't hear so clearly.

"Really?" he groaned.

"One of us is still alive, Damon," Marian said, flushing the toilet and moving to the basin to wash her hands. Damon's head perked up as he heard a cupboard close and a brushing sound come from the bathroom.

"Are you brushing your teeth?" he asked.

Marian rolled her eyes. "Why're you so sur'rised?" Her words were muffled. Damon supposed she was right; she'd always taken her hygiene seriously, even when they'd first met. "I foun' an unopene' too'brush, hope you don' mind." Even if he had, what could he do about it now?

"I had fun last night," he told her, stripping off his underwear and replacing them with new ones. He reached for a new pair of jeans.

"Me too," she said back, spitting into the sink and setting the toothbrush next to the basin. "Not bad." She quietly stepped back into his bedroom, hoping that he wouldn't hear her as she neared.

Damon raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Not bad?" he repeated incredulously, tensing when he felt her cool hands on his abdomen, her arms wrapping around his torso. She hummed, placing her lips on his right shoulder.

"I've had better," she admitted softly, kissing his neck.

"You're lying," Damon breathed, closing his eyes and inhaling heavily as she kissed his neck. "No one's better than me. Take it back."

"I'm really not," she mused, smirking at his clear discomfort.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat uncomfortably in the doorway. The couple's heads turned immediately to find Stefan standing there, his face scrunched up.

"Oh my God," Marian cursed, pulling the sheets higher on her body self-consciously.

"Uh, your ride's here, Annie," he said, smiling awkwardly before wordlessly leaving.

"My ride?" Marian asked, frowning. She followed Stefan out of the room and to the staircase, peering over the edge.

"Morning," Ambrose greeted happily. The girl felt dread instantly, hoping that her father hadn't sent him.

"No," Damon said suddenly, annoyed to see Ambrose standing there. "This is a hybrid-free zone."

"I'm just here to pick up the princess, and then I'll be on my merry way," the boy replied with a sarcastic smile. "You don't need to worry about me."

"I can't go," Marian interrupted. "I don't have any clothes." Her frown deepened when she saw him hold out a black dress. She could've sworn Penny had a dress just like it.

"Picked it up from your friend this morning," he told her. The girl nodded, carefully moving down the stairs and taking the dress from him.

"Did you get underwear?" she asked. Ambrose gulped, scolding himself for forgetting to bring her some. He was sure that if he were still alive he would have blushed, too, because he wasn't used to pretty girls talking about their underwear around him. "Thanks anyway."

She stepped into the hallway and, after checking to make sure Stefan wasn't around, let Damon's sheet fall from her body.

"You know," Damon began. "Black is the colour of impurity. Next time, maybe get something that says 'I'm innocent, daddy, I did nothing wrong'."

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "You really think changing the colour of her dress is gonna kill their suspicion?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow at the vampire. "The Mikaelsons may be old-fashioned, but they aren't dumb."

Ambrose couldn't help but gaze over into the hallway, his eyes widening as he realised that she was naked; her hands above her head as she slipping the dress over her. "Jesus Christ!"

"Oh my God!"

Startled, Marian turned around the dress now covering her body. She gulped, seeing not only Damon and Ambrose staring at her, but Elena too, who had just arrived at the front door. The dopplegänger looked over angrily at Damon while Marian looked pleasingly at Ambrose.

"Time to go," he said quickly as he leapt forward, grabbing Marian's hand and pulling her towards the front door.

...

"So," Ambrose began after a while of silence. Both had struggled to find anything to say to the other that wouldn't result in an awkward conversation. "Did you have a good time last night?"

Marian groaned, sinking in the passenger's seat. "Can we please not talk about it?"

"I'm sorry," he said, laughing at her discomfort. "It's just.... Damon? Really?" Marian glared at him. "You could have chosen any boy in this town, and you chose him? He's, like, the biggest dick ever."

"Not the 'biggest dick ever', but still big." She paused before laughing as she realised what she'd just said. Ambrose joined in. "What I meant to say was that he's not as much of an asshole as everyone thinks he is."

"I can see the headline now," he joked. "Seventeen-year-old and twenty-five-year-old found dead after scandal."

Marian rolled her eyes, looking up from her phone. She'd been sending a message to Penny, asking for some underwear and deodorant to the Grill; she needed some, desperately. "It isn't a scandal," she argued.

"The age-gap says otherwise," he countered.

She rolled her eyes, thinking about how she was technically older than Damon by over eight-hundred years. "Age is just a number," she told him. "It doesn't matter when you're in love."

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well it does matter when it's illegal."

"Oh, come on," Marian laughed. "It's not like Elena and him being together is any better." There was only a one-year difference between them.

He shook his head. "Look, you've just gotta be careful, okay. Something's not right here." Her eyes flickered up to look at him.

"What do you mean?"" she asked.

"I mean," he began, stressing words. "Don't you find it a little strange how your ex is suddenly all over you when your family shows up?" Marian frowned. "He's had years to make a move, and yet he only does it now."

"What's your point?" she questioned slowly, deep in thought. She hoped against her better instincts that he was wrong—she'd wanted so badly for her dream of finding someone who truly loved her to come true. But then again, Marian was easily manipulated. Just the smallest explanation from Ambrose made theories and conclusions race through her mind, and suddenly she couldn't stop thinking about how much he wanted her to stay with him today.

"I think they're planning something," Ambrose concluded. "Elijah said something about Elena lying to him about what Esther said to her last night. He thinks Esther's trying to get rid of you once and for all."

"She wants peace," Marian countered. She'd lost all respect for the woman when her family had been murdered to make them invincible, but that didn't mean she held onto the hope that her family would finally be healed. "For us to be together."

"I hope you're right," he breathed, focusing back on the road. Marian looked down, smiling to herself as the memory of him dancing with her at the ball came to mind. Noticing that she hadn't spoken, he glanced at her. "What?"

"You'd missed me, wouldn't you? If I died." Her smile slowly turned to a smirk as she noticed his hands grip slightly tighter at the wheel. "Oh my God, you so would!" she teased.

"I happen to enjoy your company," he defended. "You're the only person around my age that I'm expressly allowed to talk to. Plus, you make good conversation."

She raised an eyebrow. "By conversation, you mean crying about boys and unfortunate situations?" she asked sarcastically.

"Hey, I've heard some of the things you've been through in your life. I honestly think you're the strongest person I've ever met." Marian laughed lightly, looking down at her lap, hoping that Ambrose couldn't see the slight tinge of pink that crept up her neck and sat on her cheeks. But she'd forgotten to try and calm her heartbeat.

She said nothing—and neither did he, worried that if he did, he'd mention how he loved the fact that he had made her blush—as he slowly pulled into the parking lot of the Mystic Grill, finding a park at the entrance and turning the engine off.

"Thanks for picking me up," Marian said softly. "You're my hero," she joked, frowning when she saw that he wasn't paying attention to her. Instead, his eyes were staring through the front window of the Grill, seemingly looking at the people inside of it. "Ambrose?"

He cleared his throat, looking at her. Hesitating for a moment, he finally spoke. "Your dad's here." She felt her body go rigid, fear flooding through her. "I think he knows." The last time Marian had loved who her father didn't approve of, he'd gotten the boy sent as a convict to Australia. This time, however, the boy she loved wasn't a boy—wasn't human—and he had killed Kol.

For once, she was glad that the Grill was so populated this early in the morning, for it meant that Kol wouldn't be able to lash out at her. Taking a deep but shaky breath, she rolled her shoulders back and made her way inside.

"Marian, love!" Klaus called from the bar with a mischievous grin. "Welcome back from whatever rundown house you stayed at last night." The girl glared at him. "Or perhaps it wasn't some rundown home," he continued, his grin turning into a smirk. "Perhaps it was a rather old house belonging to two—"

"Marian." She gulped loudly at the sound of her father's voice, having hoped that somehow he wouldn't be there in the few seconds it took to get from the car to the Grill. How foolish she'd been. "Where have you been?"

Klaus, who usually loved to watch Marian get chastised by any of his brothers, had left the two alone, using his endless pursuit for Caroline. Kol was rarely angry at his daughter, but when he was, his siblings all knew to stay far away from them.

"I was at a friend's house," she tried weakly, wishing for once that she'd taken him up on his offer to teach her the art of deception.

Kol nodded. "And this friend... does he know that if touches you again, I'll kill him?"

The thought of Damon thrusting into her and making a throaty moan escape her lips slipped into her mind. She swallowed the lump that sat at the back of her throat. "We didn't do anything," she denied.

Her father patted the seat next to him, beckoning her to sit down. "Do you take me for a fool, Marian?" he asked her. "You're quite the open book, darling. I knew the second he walked into our home last night that you still cared for him."

She looked down at her lap. His voice had become far softer, less threatening. "Just because I care, doesn't mean I slept with him," she argued.

"I'm your father, darling. I know you far better than anyone else, and as much as it disgusts me, I know exactly what you did after he snapped my neck."

part ii:

tvd s3, e15, ""

wc: