deercountry | out of the fire, into the frying pan

"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?"

"Hm."

She smiles as she watches him tend to her make-believe bruise. In her defence, she did have a bruise on her shoulder. It's since healed from the moment it blossomed.

That doesn't mean she can't still feel it.

"A little better, but…" She presses her fingers to her lips. "It still hurts a little."

"You know, sometimes you're made of steel but then sometimes, you're made of glass and you always need my help in tending to your injuries."

He's teasing because he knows what she's doing. He just wants to call her out while he brushes his lips against her shoulder.

"I'm getting mixed signals here."

"You say that a lot."

Katherine doesn't move her shoulder in fear of shrugging him off. She likes the attention. She's always liked getting his attention no matter the situation—him gawking at her, him trying to kill her...

"When, really, you should be saying that I am a very complicated and interesting woman, and that you very much enjoy it when I let you take care of me. I don't let anyone do that, you know."

Not even George Clooney.

"That's because you're a stubborn woman who is complicated and interesting."

He presses his cheek to her shoulder and then steps up against her, wrapping an arm around her waist and sighing.

"I very much enjoy it when you let me take care of you and I wish you would do it more often."

Now, that's more like it.

Katherine smiles and pulls her shoulders up as if he's tickling her. She doesn't move out of his arms, resting her hand against his forearm as she tilts her head away from where he rests against her shoulder.

"You're very good at these compliments when you're in the shower, you know."

Keep them coming.

"That seems to imply that I'm not good at compliments outside of the shower."

Which, how dare, Katherine. He kisses her shoulder before his mouth starts moving up the side of her neck and behind her ear.

"I think I'm pretty good at compliments."

Or at least telling her that he loves her.

She hums, tilting her head away from him so he can get as much of her neck as he likes.

Is she meant to respond? She doesn't have a response on hand for him now. Instead, she's more interested in the warmth of his mouth and the way he seems to summon butterflies forth in her gut.

"Well..." She shrugs her other shoulder. "You could use some work outside of the shower."

"Hmm."

He knows she doesn't mean that. And he doesn't argue it either, just continues brushing his mouth up and down her neck, sighing and nuzzling against her.

"So, tell me. What kind of work? What should I do more out of the shower to make you satisfied?"

Confess the location of the journals, for one.

Katherine closes her eyes and sighs happily. She doesn't particularly want to think. Can Stefan just kiss her neck over and over until his mouth is bruised and she doesn't have any neck to kiss any longer?

"You could wear that blue shirt a little more around the house. I'm sure it didn't get lost in Deerington."

"What blue shirt?"

He's got a lot of blue shirts because of her. She's bought a few and he'd bought a few so there's a few hanging out in his wardrobe that he remembers. The request makes him smile before he bites lightly at her neck.

"I have so many of them now because of you."

She smiles. That's not a bad thing. Blue and green bring out his eyes—and the grey isn't so bad, either.

"The dark blue."

Those ones really make his eyes pop. And it'd been the shirt that she had gotten to meet him in all those years ago on the Lockwood property. Sometimes Katherine is a little nostalgic.

"The light blue doesn't make your eyes pop as much as the dark ones."

"You've thought about this."

Stefan chuckles because he's not surprised. Of course she has opinions on what colors make his eyes look better. He's not at all surprised but he wants to make it known that he's noticed.

He presses his mouth against her neck and sighs.

"Maybe I'll see about wearing the blue. Later."

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