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Damon didn’t really need to ask why she was sitting on the roof in the middle of the night. He could hear why easily enough, from several blocks away in fact. Karen and her latest loser boyfriend were battling it out downstairs, drunkenly insisting on some random difference of opinion. Probably they didn’t even remember what had touched off the argument.
He focused on more practical matters. “How did you get up here?” he wanted to know, landing lightly beside her and settling down on the rough shingles.
“Skylight,” Daisy replied, nodding towards the cloudy dome nearby.
“Are you cold?” She should’ve brought a blanket or coat for herself, he judged, to supplement the yellow flannel pajamas decorated with anthropomorphic breakfast foods. Because he certainly wasn’t going to offer her his jacket.
“No, I’m fine,” she told him, and he broke off abruptly from staring at a beady-eyed hard-boiled egg near her third button.
Damon stretched out more casually on the roof and so did she, staring up at the cold, clear stars. “Pete, right? How long’s this one been around?”
“A couple weeks. Look, there’s Orion.”
“Anyone can find Orion,” Damon scoffed. “Does he ever—“ He didn’t know why he persisted with these questions. “These boyfriends of your mom’s. Do they ever bother you?”
“Do you mean philosophically?” Daisy asked. She had a slight smile on her face when he rolled his head over to look at her. No, the look said. “They don’t bother me,” she assured him, turning onto her side. She propped her head up on her fist and gazed down on him with that mysterious, charmed smile that was somehow both mocking and appreciative. “I can take care of myself.”
To Damon, that sounded like she’d had something to take care of, at least in the past, and he didn’t like that. The instinctive anger confused him, and he didn’t like that, either. He turned on his side also, mimicking her posture. “Do you want to come sleep at my house?” The words were out before he could stop them. Needed to work on that impulse control. “I think there’s room in my bed,” he added quickly, crudely.
Her smile broadened, and also deepened. Downstairs, something crashed. “Thanks,” she replied, a wealth of layers somehow embedded in the single syllable, “but Grandma will probably call the police soon, and I should be here when they arrive.”
Damon knew all about linking yourself to a screw-up family member. Well, actually he knew about it from the other side. “It’s not your problem to clean up.”
Daisy reached over and folded down the collar of his jacket, her hand lingering on the dark leather. “She’s my mom.” Her tone was not defensive or resigned, the way he expected Stefan’s often was; it was instead almost amused, like serial drunkenness and abusive boyfriends were just irritating little quirks she chose to put up with.
It didn’t seem right. And yet, he did get the feeling Daisy could take care of herself.
“Well, call me if you need a place to stay,” he offered. “I’ll put in a good word for you at the Tumble Inn, make sure you get the room with the least lice.” She chuckled a little, unexpectedly, and a weird thrill of victory shot through him. Quickly he beat it down and stuffed it into the same box as his earlier anger.
He heard the sirens in the distance. “I’d better go,” he decided reluctantly. He hated missing an opportunity to see Liz do her stoic moral judgment thing, but his presence would be a little awkward to explain. He stood and hovered just off the roof, watching intently as Daisy opened the skylight and started to climb down some kind of ladder. “Don’t go downstairs until the police get here.” For that statement he had no justification.
But he didn’t need justification. When had he ever? He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and he didn’t have to explain it to anyone, including himself. This thought made him feel better.
“I won’t,” Daisy promised, with an incongruous smile. “We’re still going to that concert Thursday, right?”
“Of course,” he replied automatically. “It’s not a rave if someone doesn’t end up bloody and dazed.” She grinned and disappeared into the house. He hovered lower, watching her through the slightly parted bedroom curtains, as she put on some shoes and a robe. Now she went for the robe. He kept an eye on her until the sirens were quite close, then zipped off to the nearby woods to watch from there. He had a feeling Pete might meet with a tragic accident one of these days.