a/n: takes place after the would-be series finale. after the season finale, too many feels. but i can't write delena, as much as i love them, idk why, my creys. so yee, opted for domestic steroline, with just a touch of klaroline, cause gah, love them too. story title comes from look after you by the fray.

you've begun to feel like home

"I didn't know what colors you wanted, so I got two," he calls.

Stefan's voice practically echoes through the entire house, and she grins at how empty her surroundings are as she moves through the mountain of boxes in his—their living room, setting apart their respective belongings. She finds a framed picture of Stefan and Elena from their junior year, right when they'd started dating—the first time—and she can't help but tentatively run the pads of her fingers over the glass.

Caroline had always been so positive that it'd be them until the very end, that the insurmountable love that Stefan and Elena felt for each other would be able to overcome any challenge that went their way—including the raven-haired, blue-eyed, impulsive, snarky challenge of all challenges that took form in Damon Salvatore.

Looks like she was wrong.

She thinks of Damon and Elena, back in Mystic Falls, or London, or Vienna, or wherever the hell they are, cuddled up in each other's embrace as they sip blood from their mugs while Stefan is here, in Chicago, living in an empty house with a girl who unintentionally reminds him of everything he'd been trying to escape, and it takes every ounce of control that Caroline has to keep from shattering the frame in her hands.

She's happy for Elena, she is—hell, she's even happy for Damon, but the fact that their joint happiness makes Stefan—a man who always went to the farthest extents to keep her safe—so miserable, makes her so damn pissed.

The sound of the stove turning on behind her startles her out of her daze, and Caroline restrains herself from emitting a growl as she sets the picture into one of the boxes, labeled Stefan. She keeps rummaging, managing to methodically go through their things and set them apart until she comes to her scrapbook.

She flips through the pages, the shining eyes of Elena, Bonnie, Matt, Tyler, Jeremy, and yes, even Damon, staring back up at her. Her lips turn up at the corners as she turns page after page, knowing that the pictures should provide some sense of warmth or comfort, but all she feels is her heart sinking lower into the pit of her stomach with each photographed smile she sees.

A genuine smile springs to her lips when she sees a picture of her and Stefan from the night of the Lockwood's masquerade ball, the same night they successfully managed to toss Katherine's ass into the tomb beneath the church ruins.

His arm is casually strewn across her shoulders, while hers are wrapped around his waist, and despite the fact that so many things were wrong with their lives at the moment, they look like any other pair of friends without a care in the world.

She wastes no time in tacking the picture to their bulletin board in the hallway adjoining the kitchen to the living room. Caroline goes back into the living room, placing her scrapbook into the box marked Caroline, but not before a piece of parchment falls from in between the pages.

She furrows her eyebrows when she turns it over to find that it's the drawing Klaus gave her so long ago, on the night of the Mikaelson ball.

Thank you for your honesty.

She closes her eyes and lets her head fall backwards, thinking of the diamond bracelet that rests in her drawer, the one that belonged to a legit princess, the one that he'd returned to her just moments before his actual dessication. Not his it's cool, I'll just possess the body of someone you care about until I can be revived dessication, but dessication dessication, the kind that involves lying in the bottom of the deepest abyss of all the seven seas.

She recalls the reluctant tears that slipped from her eyes the moment she saw his body start to gray, the way that the others were appalled because the villain was finally taken care of, and she was actually crying. The lump in her throat becomes more prominent than she cares for it to be.

"It's okay to miss him, you know."

She turns, finding Stefan leaning against the archway of their living room wall. His arms are crossed over his chest and he's looking at her with green eyes that care too much, know too much. She can't help but feel suffocated under his gaze and she hastily places the drawing in her box.

"No it's not," she whispers. "He's...he's been the catalyst for so much destruction. He's the reason both Elena's birth parents died, he killed Jenna, killed Elena, just—how can you say that?" she says, voice breaking.

He should be judging her, should be thinking twice about living with her—a woman who misses a psychopathic mass murder is not sane, by any means. God, here come the waterworks. Stefan seems to sense this, because she's in his arms in less than a millisecond, staining his shirt with her tears while his hands comb through her hair.

"It's not okay," she sniffles into his shoulder.

He doesn't say anything, just holds her a little tighter, and she's happy to be in his arms—her solace for comfort. He pats her back before releasing her. "C'mon, let's go paint your room. It'll give us something to do until the spaghetti is done."

She breathes a laugh. "Have I told you how much of a godsend it is that you can cook? Italian men are the best."

"Or in this case, vampires over a century and a half old with lots of free time are the best."

She doesn't miss the flicker of amusement that causes his lips to quirk, and the sorrow weighing heavily on her heart becomes considerably lighter as they enter her bedroom.

"Tomato, tuh-mah-toe." She looks down at the paint cans, and immediately picks the pale yellow over the lilac. "Sweetie, I know this is your first time actually living with me, but lilac? C'mon, you should know better than that by now."

Stefan chuckles to himself, laughing like he knows something she doesn't. "My apologies, madam." He hands her a brush, and they start to work.

As the pale yellow starts covering the stark white of her bedroom, Caroline can't help but remember her old bedroom from Mystic Falls, the one that holds so many memories. It's where she had tons of sleepovers with Bonnie and Elena, where she consummated her relationships with both Damon and Matt, where she spoke to Klaus for the first time, where her father died—

"Care, you okay?"

She blinks and feels something wet slip down her cheeks. She huffs and rolls her eyes, swatting at her cheeks. "Ugh, am I crying again? Stupid heightened emotions," she grumbles.

Stefan's eyebrows crease as he studies her through careful eyes. She's never said anything about it before, but the drawing, the tears? Maybe she's not as okay with living with him in a city so far away from the place they once called home as she'd let on.

And what kind of person would he be if he held her back?

"You could go back, you know. I wouldn't—I wouldn't mind."

They both know he's lying.

Caroline is his salvation.

His heart twists in the confines of his chest as he thinks about how, not so long ago, he'd used that term to describe both Lexi and Elena. Lexi saved him from the monster, and Elena saved him from the loneliness. They'd both made him the happiest he's ever been, and they'd both abandoned him, albeit unintentionally, but facts are facts.

Both at the hands of his brother.

This time around, Caroline is saving him from himself.

He's not sure if he could survive having her torn from his grasp.

"This isn't how it was supposed to be," he murmurs.

She rolls her eyes, but her shoulders can't help but slump a bit. She knows this isn't how it was supposed to be. It's not supposed to be them, it's supposed to be him and Elena, or her and Tyler, maybe even her and Klaus—not Stefan Salvatore and Caroline Forbes.

Three years after she left Mystic Falls, six months after he found her in Chicago, and two days after moving into an actual house together, she still can't wrap her head around the idea that of all the people she left behind, Stefan is the one that came barging into her life with the intent to stay.

She can't help but snicker at the thought of how her human, sixteen-year old self would've reacted if she'd known the future that would befall her; living with Stefan Salvatore in their eternal youth, just seven years after he rejected her in favor of Elena.

She's sure she would've died of overbearing joy.

On the other hand, Stefan's misery couldn't be more prominent.

He's been a surprisingly good friend slash housemate so far. He always greets her with a smile, always up for whatever she suggests, and she's learned more form him in the past six months than she's learned in her entire existence. While Stefan always has a happy face, she can hear what he's not saying.

She knows he'd rather be with Damon, or with Elena, or Lexi. She's none of the above—just the narcotic cheerleader slash baby vampire he mentored during their junior year.

Caroline falters when she comes to the sudden realization that right here, right now, they're all each other has. Without him, she'd be alone, fending for herself in the real world, unable to create real friendships, real relationships—she'd be living a life she'd hate. Without her, he'd be alone, allowing the guilt to swallow him whole, and he'd be a million times more miserable.

"You know what, enough with the doom and gloom, Stef," she chastises. "We've had enough of that to last us a lifetime, and we have eternity to brood. But now, it's a new chapter."

She dips her brush into the yellow paint, mercilessly marking the skin of his forearm. He furrows his eyebrows for a millisecond and before she can regret her actions, he looks up at her with unadulterated mischief shining in his eyes, outstretched arm already reaching for the other paintbrush.

"Wrong move, Forbes."

He grins when she manages to flick some of the lilac onto his nose and she squeals when he tackles her to the ground, lips stretching out from ear to ear. The sound of their laughter resonates off the walls of Caroline's bedroom until Stefan's hands show her ticklish sides mercy.

A half hour later, when they're actually stroking their brushes against the wall, more paint covering their bodies than resting in the cans, her ears perk up at the sound of Stefan's chuckle.

"I'm glad you're here, Care," he says, eyes searching hers in the way she understands means he wants her to know something he's not saying. She smiles thoughtfully when she translates his words into Stefan language—something she's grown to be quite fluent in.

Never leave me.

"I'm glad too, Stef."

Never.

Somehow, he doesn't doubt that she's the one that's here for the long run.

fin.

reviews are love.