somanyadjectives | fifty shades of stefan } { but his number came up and he was gone with the draft [1942]

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fifty shades of stefan } { but his number came up and he was gone with the draft [1942]

After leaving New Orleans, without his brother, Stefan mostly sets about the task of blending in with the allied forces. He isn't bad at it - he's had many years of practice after all, and while none of them are a substitute for Damon, who knows him better than anyone, and had actually seen like he wanted to make amends and move forward instead of being trapped in the past, it's enough. It's being out among people and not feeling the need to manipulate or destroy them.

He feels like he's starting to feel like a person again. It's been a long time since he's felt something like that so he's trying to revel in it as much as he can - though not too much. Too much indulgence might make him forget the dangers that come when he forgets restraint and he never wants to become that person again.

He does, however, make frequent use of the various bars and officer's clubs that they visit on their way to ship out, hanging out and drinking with his friends and applauding loudly when the talent (usually girls) hits the stage in full swing. Most of the time the acts pass without notice, but one night he's in the middle of a bourbon when a very familiar voice takes the stage. His head picks up almost instantly, turning towards he stage with wide eyes as he takes her in.

"Diana?"

[Continued here]

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Stefan follows her lead through the city, not stopping until they reach the house in question, but when she points out the window involved he nods. "Yes." Then there's a beat. "Do you need me to go through it?"

"Yes," she replied. And she grabbed the collar of his dress uniform, planting a quick kiss on his lips before he could stop her or say anything, for it or against it. "I'll meet you inside."

She started to move away, but then stopped, turning back to him. "Don't let anyone see you."

Because it was going to be that simple, of course.

Of course it's going to be that simple. But that's probably because Stefan can move much quicker as a vampire than a human can. He pauses for a moment, studying the scene, before launching himself into the air and grasping hold of the edge of the roof near her window.

Diana made her way in through the front door. The matron was eyeing her as usual, but she was technically in before curfew. Anyway, how could anyone hold it against her for supporting the war effort?

She flashed the older woman an innocent smile before taking the stairs two at a time up to her room.

There wasn't much to it. After all, it was just a temporary stay. But little touches of Diana could be seen all around: A guitar tucked into the corner; a silky purple nightgown thrown haphazardly over the dresser; a steamer trunk practically bursting with beads and feathers and bows. And about fifteen pairs of shoes scattered around in no particular order or organization.

She closed the door and locked it, before scurrying over to open the window.

Once the window is open, he slips his legs inside, gently closing the window behind him and hoping he didn't draw too much attention. Once that's done, he turns back to her with a smile.

"This is a nice place."

"It's all right," she said. It lacked the grandeur of the Manhattan hotels she preferred. To say nothing of the Order mansion out in LA. But she couldn't complain in a time of war. It was wrong.

And it was on that thought that she took a moment to admire the way Stefan looked in his uniform.

"I can't imagine you going over there," she said, in a mixture of awe and envy.

"Me either, honestly. I've never been to war before." Something about it seems incredibly daunting and he doesn't know where to start. "But Lexi thinks it'll be good for me. To learn to be around blood and not give in to it."

Blood. She hadn't thought about that. Lexi had a good point, admittedly. But still...

"It's a noble fight," she said. "I'm not at all poetic about war. I think killing people is wrong. But what Hitler and his allies are doing...it's inhuman. I almost think that he might be a vampire of some kind."

She cupped his face in her hand. "I'm so proud of you."

He smiles a bit at that, because after their last encounter, he expected her to be a lot more resistant to spending time with him. He supposes he should be glad that Diana is as forgiving as she is. "What about you? Are you alright? You didn't seem ... well, last time I saw you."

Her hand fell away from his face. And she bit her lower lip, the way she always did when she was feeling uncomfortable or uncertain.

"That..."

Derangement wasn't the worst part of being Malkavian. It was the second worst. The worst was always moments like this, when she had to explain it to someone who didn't know, who didn't understand. Her clan inhabited such a tenuous and uncertain place within Cainite society. And bringing it to the attention of an outsider...

Well. She never knew where she would stand, afterwards.

"I...was unwell. You lose control in one way. I lose it in another."

He nods for a moment, watching her face carefully as he does. He feels guilty for the role he had to play in it, even if some of it wasn't his fault. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you in that position."

Quickly, she reached out again to touch his cheek. "Don't be sorry," she said. "You didn't. I would have put myself in that position in a heartbeat."

Anything to help him, really.

She offered him a watery smile. "Anyway, everything's better now. Isn't it? Lexi was able to help you?"

"She was," he nods with a thin smile. "It took time, but fortunately as a vampire I have a great deal of that. Now it's simply a matter of keeping myself on track. Hopefully I will be more successful at it than I was the last time."

A small, selfish voice somewhere in the back of Diana's mind reminded her that she could use her powers on him. She could make him focus on staying on track, make sure that he didn't give up on himself easily. It would be a noble effort on her part. But it would also be wrong.

It would be manipulating another person's mind and, even if that was for the better...

No. No, she wasn't going to do that. More and more, she valued free will above all other things.

Dismissing the thought, she smiled. "I believe in you."

"I hope it's not misplaced," he says with a nod, before waving a hand. "Enough about me though. What have you been up to?"

He doesn't want to dwell on himself too much, or he'll start second guessing things. That's something he doesn't need, on the eve of shipping out to the battle field.

"Apart from singing for the boys, you mean?" She was particularly proud of that contribution, however small it was, to the effort. "Oh, I've been keeping busy." Said-oh-so demurely. Her face split into a grin. "Have you heard that new song? Tangerine?"

Not one of her best compositions, admittedly. But there was a delightful catchiness to it.

A catchiness that was making her bundles of dough.

His eyebrows go up a bit at that, then he smiles. He should have known it was her particular hand behind it. "I like it. It's a favorite a some of the dance halls I was visiting back in New Orleans."

Giddiness was practically oozing out of her lavender eyes. "One of mine," she said proudly. "One of many now. You'd be amazed how much someone is willing to pay for a song that isn't theirs. Just to slap their name on it."

She did a neat, little spin on her toes, looking delightfully pleased with herself.

"It makes moving across the country so much easier!"

"I'm sure it does. Me, I'm still mostly relying on old family money, but it must be so exhilarating to build your own life." He wonders if maybe sometime he should try it. But at the same time, he's way too lazy to do so. Privileged white male problems.

It was all terribly ironic, considering the fact that Diana was an heiress. But she didn't have a lot of time for irony these days. The world was moving at a faster pace and she enjoyed being swept up along in the current.

"I'm working on a new piece," she said, already moving toward her guitar. "Maybe you'd like to hear it?"

"I would love to." He shifts to lean back in his seat, ready to sit back and listen to her play.

Diana perched herself on the foot of her bed and slipped out of her heels, neatly tucking her long legs to one side. The amount of skin she was showing these days was scandalous by Selene's standards. But Diana thought she might as well show off her assets.

Anyway, it was the fashion now.

She picked up her guitar, settling it against her chest. Effortlessly, her fingers danced over the strings, strumming out a lovely tune. "I don't have words for it yet," she said, ducking her head apologetically. "But the way the notes play...it makes me think of falling snow. Christmas."

He tips his head to the side as he listens, before smiling softly as he nods. "Yeah. Think you might write the next hit Christmas Carol?"

"Maybe," she said, looking very pleased with the idea. "But...you'll be away. I won't have you to play it for."

Diana wasn't as concerned for Stefan's life as she might be for a normal soldier. But a trace of hesitation was evident, beneath her teasing. Wars were a dangerous business. A bullet couldn't kill, but it would hurt like hell.

And a fire...

All of those things would definitely be dangerous, but Stefan's been through worse. He can certainly take care of himself. "Then you'll have to play it for me when I get back. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon enough."

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