deercountry | out of the fire, into the frying pan

Stefan chuckles because he can tell she doesn't like that word and she's trying her damndest not to give him the satisfaction of him knowing she doesn't like it. But, he knows and he just laughs quietly.

"I thought you going to wash my back."

But, he holds up the soap and gestures for her to turn around.

"Come on, let me wash your back before the water turns to blood or something."

Without hesitation, she turns around. Combing her hair over her shoulder so none of it obscures her back, she brushes her fingers through it absently. Most of her hair is still dry, although she can feel some of it grow damp from the spray.

She glances over her shoulder and looks at him pointedly. "Make sure you do a good job." She knows he will. Stefan will do nothing but an excellent job with her back.

Strangely, she doesn't feel sore. Back in Deerington, she knows she'd be bruised and have scratches and possibly some blood on her, but all she wears is dirt.

"Yes, ma'am."

He takes the rag to her back and starts stroking at her shoulders, slow and easy, making sure to both massage her and to get her clean.

"It's kind of weird to be at full strength, isn't it? I kind of got used to things being muted in Deerington."

He'd thought that was normal after awhile and just stopped thinking about it. Even having injuries take time to heal had become par for the course.

She sighs happily. "It is." She wrinkles her nose, wringing her hands together in front of her. Although she thinks he's truly come to that final conclusion after the arena, she knows that Stefan is quick to realise what's changed over the last few weeks.

It's comforting to know that he's just as thrown by the sudden return to full strength as she is. It's something she doesn't want to take for granted, suspecting Deer Country will simply revoke it as quickly as they've realised it.

"You smell nicer now that I can smell everything around me."

Stefan frowns, trying to figure out how that works before he just shakes his head. He scrubs at her shoulders and then down her sides, working the soap into her hips.

"I would have thought that being able to smell things clearly again would mean I would smell worse. That's how you like to flirt with me, isn't it? By making fun of me."

He knows how you roll, Katherine.

It's better than being stabbed, isn't it?

Katherine shifts on her feet and stays still, enjoying the way he tends to her. Chuckling to herself, she shakes her head and cards her fingers through her hair absently. Flirting with him by making fun of him keeps him on his toes! Katherine thinks she flirts with him in different ways—by seducing him, being kind to him, tormenting him.

Peering over her shoulder, she asks, "Is it working?"

Stefan doesn't answer right away, pretending to think about it before he lightly flicks the rag at her cheek and shakes his head.

"I don't know, I think I'm still thinking about your crow's feet."

And then he's laughing and pulling the cloth back to brush against the small of her back, getting the remainder of the dirt off her that he can see.

She's lucky that she has a no-killing policy in the shower. Despite the fact it'd be an easier clean-up, she thinks a shower is a place for relaxing and reflection.

And she's beginning to reflect on why she likes Stefan. A glance over her shoulder reminds her: he's hot. (With many other complimentary attributes.)

"So, is that what you've been waiting for all your life? A woman with crow's feet?"

"Not exactly."

He laughs though and reaches for her shoulders, twisting them so she can stand under the spray and let the water rinse all the soap off her back and shoulders. He tosses the rag onto the shelf in the shower and smiles at her.

"As soon as you get the laugh lines around your mouth, then you'll be perfect for me."

He reaches up and brushes his fingers against her lips.

"So, I'm imperfect."

She doesn't say it with any malice or annoyance. Him being playful is nice. Katherine knows that he doesn't think anything less of her even if she doesn't have laugh lines or crow's feet. Maybe one day her immortality will crack and she will.

Despite not being annoyed, she peers up at him with a cocked brow and a feigned look of annoyance.

"When are you going to make me laugh so much I get one line?"

"You're perfect for me."

He shrugs at her question. He doesn't really have a plan for making her laugh. Maybe it'll happen accidentally or maybe it won't but he's made her laugh before, he thinks he can do it again.

"I've made you laugh before. I make you laugh all the time when you're not trying to actively not laugh to get one up on me."

"Ha."

She purposefully says that in a half-assed attempt at a quick laugh. It's true, though. Stefan can be funny. While he unfairly has the reputation of being the unfunny brother, she thinks he's a lot funnier than Damon. He always made her laugh and blush in 1864.

Brushing her hair over her shoulder to fall onto her back, she ignores the spray making it stick to her skin. Facing him, she gives him a quick once-over as if searching for his funny bone.

"Sometimes you're funny." Katherine purses her lips to appear purposefully unamused. "Not too funny… but funny enough."

"Wow, thanks. Sometimes, I'm funny."

He knows that he's never going to be funny in the way his brother his and that's fine. He doesn't want to be like Damon. Damon has that market cornered and Stefan can just be Stefan.

"Sometimes I'm funny and sometimes you're old."

Ha ha, he's so funny.

"Sometimes I'm old," she repeats quietly. Biting her bottom lip, she tries that one out before she nods. That sounds awfully untrue, although Katherine knows that the reason why he said it was to goad her.

She's old. Possibly one of the oldest people here. She suspects she's the oldest person he knows and likes.

"And when are those moments when I'm sometimes old? I'm curious."

Stefan shrugs a shoulder because it's just something he'd said off the cuff. Of course, Katherine would ask about it and now he's going to have to figure out an answer.

"First thing in the morning when you're all over me, drooling on my shoulder and snoring."

That doesn't make her old, that just makes her not a morning person. But, he's going with it.

She had expected him to offer a bullshit answer. Thankfully, Stefan doesn't disappoint.

Narrowing her eyes, she shakes her head. "I don't do that. You do that." Puffing her chest out, she stands a little taller and tilts her head up defiantly. "I just haven't had the heart to tell you."

Next.

"Katherine, you do that too. There are many times that you're very suave and smooth but first thing in the morning?"

He shakes his head at her. That's not one of those times. For those first few moments, she's unable to control that human side of her. He reaches up and brushes a thumb against her cheek.

"There's nothing wrong with it, though. I like that side of you."

Katherine doesn't look too pleased by his comments, even though, frankly, she doesn't care. Stefan's the only one who sees her in the morning—and as long as it remains to only Stefan knowing that she's not quite as put together in the morning, the better.

But that doesn't mean she has to look happy about what he's saying.

"So that's my imperfection?"

"Your imperfection is probably that you love me but we'll go with what I said, sure."

He shrugs a shoulder before he looks away, a little shy about saying that. It's self deprecating and she'll probably smack him but oh well.

"I like you in the morning and at night, Katherine. You're perfect to me and for me."

That's disgusting.

Liking and loving Stefan is a weakness, not an imperfection. That's the appropriate distinction, even if he may see it as the same for someone like her. Having interpersonal relationships can be dangerous for her.

So, she does what he expects: she smacks his arm—hard.

"I can't have two imperfections, Stefan. It's the very quiet and cute snoring and drooling that's my imperfection."

"If you say so."

He says that as he rubs at his now sore arm because she is a lot stronger than he is and that wasn't even all her strength. Ow.

"Just remember admitting that the next time you say you're perfect and there's nothing flawed about you."

"But there is nothing flawed about me."

She wrinkles her nose before she turns, giving him her back as she cups her hands and steps into the spray. She smiles, knowing that this is her hiding. But she's right—she's perfect. To him, she is. He's said so himself.

And that makes Katherine feel all fuzzy on the inside.

"Yeah, yeah. You would say that."

He reaches around and gives her ass a little slap to show that yes, he agrees with that. Kind of. But then he leans closer and presses a kiss to her shoulder.

"I like that you're not flawed. I like that you're flawed. I just like you."

Katherine laughs and shifts her shoulder into his face so that he may feel more encouraged to pepper a few kisses along her shoulder.

"Do you?" She smiles up at him, feeling very much like a young girl in front of the boy that she likes. It's a little overwhelming to believe that he truly likes her, flaws and all, perfect and imperfect as she is. Katherine's beginning to like herself even more now.

She flicks water against his rose-covered bicep. "My shoulder's bruised," she pouts. "Do you think you could kiss it better?"

"You have a bruise?"

He looks down at her shoulder and all he sees is skin. There's no discoloring or anything that resembles a bruise. He laughs a bit and dips his head down anyway, pressing kisses to her shoulder.

"Is that better? Does it make it feel better?"

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