Title: Another Kiss

Rating: T for language and adult themes

Summary: Caroline wants to look away from him, to smile and act unaffected because hello, how pathetic is she right now? Only she can't. After a moment she raises her eyebrow, like she's saying, Oh, don't let me interrupt.

Pairing: Tyler/Caroline, Damon/Elena if you squint.

Spoilers: If you're the type of person who considers the TV guide descriptions a spoiler, then yes, for 3x01. I only know what I've seen in the commercials and what the producers have said.

Disclaimer: I keep wishing, but they're still not mine.

A/N: If you want a soundtrack, listen to Florence and the Machine's cover of Addicted to Love. It's what I had in mind when I wrote this, and it's fantastically sexy.

"Your lights are on, but you're not home,
Your will is not your own,
Your heart sweats, your teeth grind,
Another kiss and you'll be mine."

- Addicted to Love, Robert Palmer

Caroline is fifteen minutes into Elena's birthday party, and she already knows it's hopeless.

Elena is in one of the Salvatore house's 7,000 rooms, moping in the dark like she's the vampire and Stefan is the sad human instead of the other way around. Despite Caroline's best efforts to direct Elena straight into the horde of party guests gathering like ants in the back yard, the long-suffering brunette took off immediately after arriving to find whatever relative privacy she could. As if sulking around is going to bring her wayward boyfriend back.

Damon catches Caroline's eye from the snack table he's perusing like any of that stuff will actually give him nourishment (not that party food really has much nourishment anyway). He grabs a handful of Cheetos and starts stuffing them hamster-style into his mouth as he makes his way over to her. She raises a brow at him.

"Locked herself up already?" he asks.

"Didn't even last half an hour," Caroline sighs.

Damon cuffs her on the elbow, a friendly gesture that almost doesn't remind her of when she was human and he viciously abused her. "I'm on it."

He starts to walk away and she turns with him, calling, "Damon."

He looks back, aware of her warning before she even breathes it to life between them. "I just want to help her, Caroline."

I wouldn't use this, his eyes tell her, and she's hesitant to believe him, but then she just sighs and nods. He slips off, head tilted like he's trying to shake water out of his ears, but Caroline knows he's listening for Elena. She listens too and hears soft, muffled cries. She wonders if Elena imagined some surprise grand reunion on her birthday; saw Stefan running back to her arms just when she thought all hope was lost. It's the stuff romance novels are made of, impossible purely for the fact that Nicholas Sparks is sure to have written something similar. It's a fantasy, and Elena is probably mourning the death of it.

Caroline pulls away from the sounds, deciding it's best to let Damon deal with it. He's the only one Elena responds to anymore; the only one who breathes any life into her (ironic, considering he's dead). Caroline hopes it's because Damon is Stefan's brother and a comforting extension of the missing Salvatore, but she fears it has more to do with Damon's own merits than his brother's.

Not that Caroline would ever admit he has any.

She heads off to the back porch, where she and everyone she conned into helping her have set up a nice little party space full of tables, trays of food and a dance floor. She's proud for a moment, feeling almost like she used to when the highlight of her life was organizing events and watching them unfold exactly the way she planned. She breathes in the thick night air and just for a second feels human again.

Then she spots Tyler on the dance floor, and the world grinds to a halt. Her hearing is sharp and loud again and her eyesight focuses like a camera, tunneling to him. He's dancing with some girl, his hands around her waist and her arms wrapped around his neck. She can't see who it is at this angle; all Caroline can tell is that she's dark-skinned with shiny black hair, exactly Caroline's opposite. The girl whispers something in his ear and he laughs and tugs her closer.

Caroline's breathing cuts out completely, like a snuffed candle. Her fingers writhe like little worms as she fights off the insane urge to march over there and yank the happy couple apart. She wants to tear apart the wooden panels of the dance floor with her bare hands; wants to rip the DJ stand open until the music scratches to silence.

She takes a step forward and then stops, terrified at how out of control she feels. She turns away and forces herself to breathe—forces herself to remember that she's human, no matter what her new biology urges her to do. She can't go around killing innocent people because they touch her things.

Her terror dives a notch deeper when she realizes she just thought of Tyler as something that's hers, like the dress she's wearing or the car she has parked out front. She had no idea psycho possessiveness came with the vampire package, but she's quickly realizing it does. Or maybe that's all hers, and her supernatural transformation just enhanced it.

She turns back to Tyler again, drawn by some force that's impossible to resist. He looks content, staring down at this unknown girl (who's not a bit too tall for him). Then, like Caroline is putting out some crazy signal that his wolf nature can detect, he looks up and directly at her. Their eyes connect and his arms go stiff around the petite girl, his feet losing the tempo of the song. Caroline wants to look away, to smile and act unaffected because hello, how pathetic is she right now? Only she can't. After a moment she raises her eyebrow, like she's saying, Oh, don't let me interrupt.

The little girl in his arms finally realizes she doesn't have his attention anymore, and she looks around. Caroline catches her gaze and recognizes her now. Claire something-or-other, who's a freshmen at their high school and way too young (and way too not supernatural) for Tyler. Still, there's a disturbing amount of possessiveness on Claire's face as she eyes Caroline, and Caroline has to grab the railing and literally hold herself back.

Realizing the situation has gotten way past the point of control, Caroline turns on her heel and storms inside. She goes to the snack table and eats like Damon did earlier, stuffing chips and Chex Mix in her mouth to keep from ripping out the throats of her party guests. She stops, breathes a short sigh (crumbs and food dust spray out of her mouth and it's disgusting) and then she picks up a glass of punch. She's debating going to Damon's stash and pouring some bourbon into it when the little hairs on the back of her neck jump to attention.

She turns and there Tyler is, his hair mussed and his mouth soft and God, why didn't she ever realize how hot he is?

"Caroline," he says, half reproof and half affectionate, like What am I going to do with you?

It's condescending and gets her back up. She debates snapping at him, but she figures an airy approach is better. "Hi," she says, smiling and taking a sip of her drink to wash away the leftover crumbs that scratch her throat. "Enjoying the party?"

The question comes out flat and she nearly rolls her eyes at her own failure.

"Yeah," he says slowly, looking like he's not fooled for a second. "You did a great job."

"Thanks," Caroline says, and can't stop herself from adding, "I made the guest list, too, so you should thank me for all the fun dance partners."

"Caroline—"

"Oops, look at that," she interrupts, staring down at the gargantuan punch bowl that takes up half the table. "It's almost gone. I should refill it."

She knows each sentence comes out short and curt like she's a drill instructor instead of a party planner, but she just shakes her head as she turns away. He grabs her arm and pulls her back, and the movement puts them close together.

"Come on, it was just—"

"You don't have to explain," she says, still staring at the half-empty punch bowl. "We're friends. You're free to do whatever—or whoever you want."

"That's not what I was—"

But she's not listening anymore, because all she can hear is his heartbeat, a steady rhythm flowing out from the center of his chest. He's so close she can smell him, and not just the body spray he uses but him—the natural, masculine scents that normal noses can't decipher. The possessiveness comes crawling back to life, and the pressure build around her eyes ever so slightly.

She pushes closer to him, the movement so instinctive it doesn't pass through her brain for permission before her body carries it out. He doesn't back up, doesn't look bothered—just confused.

"Caroline—" he says, but she kisses him. It's long and deep with the intent to steal his breath and his words and everything else he has locked up inside him.

He's left behind and fumbling to catch up, his hands fanning out around her face. She backs him into the refreshment table, her grip bruising around his shoulders. She doesn't realize her face has turned, not until she feels her teeth prick his lip. It's a small puncture but there's blood and it's instantly in her mouth, and she'd expect it to taste bad since he's a werewolf—but Oh, God, it doesn't.

She jerks back, breathing hard, her eyes narrowing in on the small gush stemming from his bottom lip. It's like she's in a trance, and she doesn't pull out of it until he sucks his lower lip into his mouth—hiding the blood. Then she closes her eyes and tries to breathe, because she's completely exposing herself in the middle of Elena's fucking birthday party. The fangs go but they don't want to, and they almost hurt when they retreat into her gums.

"I have to—" but she doesn't finish, just flees before she can do something worse. She runs into the first empty bedroom she can find and slams the door shut behind her, her breath coming out fast and hot. She doesn't know why she's losing control like this—thought she had learned better by now. She's lucky not to have the villagers with their proverbial torches and pitchforks after her, with how public and open she was just now.

The door handle jiggles and she lunges for it, but not before Tyler shoves the door open. She gets worked up again upon seeing him; he notices and shuts the door behind him, locking it this time. She curses herself and wishes she locked it when she came inside.

"Get out," she says, but she's already stalking toward him, her steps predatory as she corners him against the door.

"Why?"

"Because—" She can smell him again and it's killing her. "Because I don't want to hurt you."

"That's not what you want to do to me," he answers, and if her vision wasn't turning red and broken at the edges, she'd probably find it in her to flush.

"Tyler—"

"Caroline," he says, low and clear, and that's all it takes. Her fractured control shatters, and she's on him faster than he can track her. She shoves her body against him, making up for her lack of bulk with supernatural muscle. His back edges into the door but he doesn't fight her—doesn't put up any resistance at all, which she thinks is kind of wonderful.

Their teeth clash together but she doesn't stop, her hands fisting at his shirt and yanking it up over his head. He lets it go and reaches for her, his grip firm around her waist. He starts to back her up toward the guest bed in the corner but she moves too fast for him again, pivoting them around and forcing him back into the mattress. She can tell this surprises him, that he's not used to being out of control in a situation like this, but she doesn't think he dislikes it.

In fact, the way he groans when she flattens him out and then slides on top of him, she thinks he kind of loves it.

She knows her eyes are black and her cheeks are streaked with veins, and her fangs fight to burst free again. She breaks herself away from his mouth and trails her tongue down his neck, sucking at the sweet spot directly at the base of his throat. He goes tense and she thinks he's equal parts aroused and alarmed.

She moves to the side of his neck and bites, hard—but her teeth are blunt and human. He releases a strangled noise from the bottom of his throat and she leans back to inspect her work. There's a shadowy imprint already swelling to life on his neck, and she feels a vicious rush of satisfaction.

"Are you like, claiming me?" he breathes. She has it in her to be embarrassed; can just feel the stain of borrowed blood flooding her cheeks. Then he says, "Fuck, that's hot."

She grins and sinks down to him again, but the door behind them juts open and they shove apart.

Damon is standing in the doorway, looking like he's ready to strangle the pair of them. Caroline leaps off the bed and Tyler follows, picking up his discarded shirt as he goes.

"Dude," Tyler says, low in his throat.

"What's with the 'dude' thing?" Damon demands. Then he looks at Caroline. "Elena needs you."

"Damon, I was kind of in the middle of something," Caroline says, insulted by his interruption and making sure it shows. "How did you even get in?"

He holds up a key and says like it's absolutely obvious, "It's my house. And Elena needs you."

The way he emphasizes it makes it clear that he doesn't give a damn about Tyler or Caroline or anyone else in his house. In fact, everyone could burn or be massacred and the only one Damon would bare his teeth to fight for is Elena. Caroline wants to say something snide, something about Damon finding his own girlfriend instead of mooning after his brother's, but then she realizes the way he's eyeing her. It's somewhere between You're an idiot and What the hell are you thinking and maybe Elena isn't really the only one he cares about—maybe he just wants everyone to think she is.

"Fine," Caroline says after a minute. She sends an apologetic look to Tyler, whose expression reminds her of a bystander that just got flattened by a bus, and then she moves toward the door. She's out of the room but still in hearing range and Damon's voice is clear in her ears.

"You bit me, Fido," Damon says, and Caroline is about to turn back around and stop a potentially bad situation when Damon continues, "You bite her and you'll die with her."

Caroline halts, surprise thrumming through her. After a moment, Tyler says, "Fair enough."

Shaking her head, thinking that the men in her life are really the most insane creatures she's ever dealt with, Caroline runs off to find Elena.

Caroline eyes Elena as the petite brunette makes the rounds, smiling at guests and thanking them for celebrating with her. There are permanent lines of fatigue around Elena's mouth and bags under her eyes—from crying or not sleeping or both—but her smile, though tremulous, is genuine. Caroline didn't say much to her because there's really not anything she can say, but she warned her not to waste her life away. That warning seems to have worked, at least for the time being. Or perhaps Elena would have reemerged on her own, driven by an unrelenting habit for politeness. Maybe she never needed Caroline at all, and Damon just wanted to break apart the tryst with Tyler.

Caroline shakes her head and points herself toward the snack table again. The pretzels, chips and birthday cake have been torn apart and devoured, like ravenous wolves were let loose on them instead of messy humans. She glances at Elena again, but for once the brunette doesn't look like the delicate damsel in need of rescuing. Sighing, glad to be relieved of her duty at least for the night, Caroline picks up a plate baring a fat piece of cake.

"Does that do anything for you?"

Caroline jumps and turns, startled in a way that would make her embarrassed if any vampires were around. What's the point of supernatural senses if they don't work at the right time?

"The cake?" Caroline asks, a little fuzzy as she looks down at the hunk of sugar and carbohydrates. "Well, it doesn't make me fat, so I can eat as much as I want. Too bad it doesn't taste as good as it used to."

He shrugs. "Maybe because it's not against the rules anymore. Forbidden fruit and all that."

She stares down at the dessert, suddenly sure it's gone from icing and bread to some kind of metaphor. After a moment, she puts the plate down and turns fully towards him.

"Caroline…"

She waits, holding her breath even though the sensation isn't as satisfying as it used to be. When she was human, not breathing built a kind of pressure in her chest that helped relieve her nerves. Now it doesn't do anything but remind her that her lungs are dead and shriveled. "Yeah?"

"This thing between us," he starts, and it's the closest either of them has ever come to admitting there is something, even though they've kissed and tried to rip each other's clothes off. "It's… it's really dangerous."

A hollow ringing in her ears starts when she realizes he's dumping her. Not that he can dump her because they aren't even together, but that's still exactly how it feels. Just like when Matt told her he couldn't accept what she was, that he didn't want to live his life knowing things like her existed.

"Okay," she says, and her eyes are darting around now, looking from one exit to the other to find the one that's least encumbered with satisfied party guests. "I should really go check on Elena."

She's already backing up and he looks perplexed, like her attempt at flight doesn't make any sense to him. "No, wait. Just let me get this out."

"Believe me, I get it," Caroline says, her voice low and harsh, like rapids gushing out over rocks. She wants to say it before he can—she wants to head him off. "You could kill me, and God knows I could kill you. This—us, it doesn't make any sense, and it's just… it's just cake, Tyler."

"Cake?" He asks, shaking his head like he doesn't know where she comes up with this stuff, and maybe the metaphor was just in her head after all. She takes a step away and he catches her arm. "Caroline, stop dodging and listen."

She halts, staring at him. He doesn't look like a boy about to break a girl's heart, and she feels stirrings of hope, like maybe she really did misunderstand.

"I wanted—" he starts, but a high, breathy giggle interrupts him.

"There you are!"

Small hands engulf Tyler's forearm, and there's another trilling laugh before Claire something-or-other plasters herself up onto him. "I thought you disappeared!"

The jealousy ruptures back to life inside of Caroline, but she takes a deep breath and keeps it mostly under control. She even laughs a little, like it's just a silly display that doesn't affect her.

"We should go dance again before the DJ leaves," Claire continues, and Caroline feels sick at the way the girl stares up at him, like she's caught between innocence and the promise of something naughty. Caroline knows that look, spent years perfecting it when she thought attention was the only thing worth anything.

"Speaking of the DJ," Caroline says, and Claire spares her a look that says Caroline is a fly in her water. "I need to go pay him. I'll see you two…" she lets the promise dangle, because she has no intention of seeing the pair of them, together, anywhere.

"No, wait," Tyler says, striding forward to keep an equal distance with Caroline. "Just let me—"

"Tyler, come on," Claire says, and there's a hardness in her voice that only a jealous, overconfident-to-hide-under-confidence teenager can produce. Caroline is further reminded of herself, and she doesn't want to be around when Claire finds her Damon. Especially if her Damon is Tyler.

Tyler turns toward the younger girl and shakes out of her grip. Caroline can read his profile and it's the same frustrated, proud look he used to give Vicky—a shadow of his old meanness returning to him like a ghost. "Would you get off me? It's not going to happen."

The words bounce around in the shell of Caroline's ears, reminding her of Stefan's similar (though slightly more tactful) speech to her almost two years before. It turns out Tyler isn't Claire's Damon; he's her Stefan. Which means that for once in her life, Caroline is the chosen one instead of the second-best option. It's a role Elena steals from her so often that Caroline's not even sure how to play it.

"Oh, fine," Claire sneers, but Caroline sees right through the tough act to the teary little girl underneath. "Like you're a great catch, anyway."

She turns on her heal and stalks off, and the silence she leaves behind her is awkward.

"You didn't have to be so harsh," Caroline chides after a moment, surprised she can find it in herself to pity the other girl. It's just so, so easy to see herself in the silly freshmen, and she feels the phantom sting of Tyler's rejection. Caroline didn't realize she changed so much, not until she saw the shadow of what she used to be.

"Whatever," Tyler says, like he can't believe one little person inconvenienced him so much. "Caroline, I'm trying to say…"

He drifts off, and she knows he's never been one for discussing his feelings but this is getting a little ridiculous. She doesn't think he's finished one whole sentence the entire night. She stares at him, raising her eyebrows to signal that she's waiting and not really feeling very patient about it. He lets out an exasperated breath and then pulls her forward, his lips falling on hers. It's unanticipated and steals her breath (however needless it is). One of his hands tangles in her hair and the other lies flat on her back, pushing her closer to him.

"I'm not good at this," he says finally when he pulls back, and her eyes fall into a slow, lazy blink. This wasn't like earlier, when she practically clubbed him over the head and dragged him back to her she-cave. This kiss was… sweet, almost. Meaningful. "In fact, I don't think I've ever even done this."

"What?" she says, because she knows he can't be talking about kissing. He's fantastic at that, and God knows he's done it.

He hesitates and then arches up, brushing his lips over her forehead. It's unexpected and so charming her stomach quivers. "I want you. I want—you know, us."

"Tyler Lockwood," she says, and now a smile is starting at the corners of her mouth. "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

He shifts from one foot to the other, and she realizes he's uncomfortable. It's kind of adorable and a completely different side to Tyler, one she didn't know even existed. She's a little in love with it. "I… yeah. That's what I'm asking."

"I'll have to think about it."

"Try again," he retorts, grabbing her arms and pulling her to him again. This is more like what she knows of Tyler; it's hot and fast and edging on inappropriate before he pulls back. She doesn't know how he can step from one to the other in the span of a few seconds, but she likes that he surprises her.

"Okay," she says when she's free again, her voice breathy and light like she just inhaled helium.

"Good," he says, all of his old self-confidence back. He wraps an arm around her waist. "But just so you know, I so get payback for tonight."

She feels the dull flush creep up her cheeks. "What do you mean?"

He grins, and there's a shadow of the wolf in his face for just a second. "You have no idea what kind of crazy possessive instincts I have."

He tucks his head into the juncture of her shoulder and bites down on the base of her neck. She gasps and clutches at him, her hands convulsive around his arms.

"I've wanted to throw you over my shoulder and drag you to my bed since the first time I kissed you," he murmurs in her ears, and then grins in satisfaction when her eyelids flutter and her mouth falls open.

"Damon can pay the DJ," she manages, linking their hands together and tugging him toward the door. He grins and follows her, his other hand clutching her waist.

"Caroline!"

She stops and looks over her shoulder, and Tyler is forced to stop too or risk losing her. Damon is staring at them, his blue eyes narrowed and fierce. A noise rolls around in Tyler's throat, something like a growl. Caroline grips his hand tighter to placate him. Damon catches her gaze and holds it, and after a minute she nods.

I got it, the nod says. You've warned me.

Damon shakes his head at her but turns away, directing his attention back to Elena. Before tonight, Caroline didn't realize it ever left.

"I don't like that guy," Tyler grouses.

"Just forget it," Caroline answers, turning back to him. She gives him a teasing smile and lifts an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be carrying me somewhere?"

And with that, his attention comes back to her, and he places both hands on her waist to direct her out of the house. Once they're outside, he makes good on his promise and hoists her onto his shoulders. She squeals with surprised laughter as he carries her to his car.

Not quite walking hand-in-hand into the sunset, she thinks as he tosses her into the passenger seat and leans over to kiss her. But hell, she'll take it.

"You might as well face it, you're addicted to love."