"But you're Elena's brother," she says, and he hears the unspoken little in there. Something in him itches to prove her wrong, to show her what she already knows: faced with death and horror and impossibilities and secrets, they are all older than they should be. He's not just Elena's little brother. He's a Gilbert man.

These are the things he lies awake at night thinking of. Of Bonnie. Her power, the secret of her weakness, the vampires she doesn't trust. He twists the ring around his finger, feels the weight of it, the - burden isn't the right word - responsibility of who he is. Feels the fear again of seeing her collapse.

She trusts him with her secret. He holds onto that. And waits.

Not that he sits around doing nothing as he waits.

He figure he's wooing her, actually. Getting her used to his company, to the idea of him as more than ancillary. And because he holds her secret, he becomes necessary to her. He tries to not be a total dick and take advantage, but it's difficult to spend so much time with Bonnie and not want more out of that time.

And then it happens. She's sitting cross-legged on his bed, and they're just talking. There's no spell, no immediate danger. They're hanging out, as friends.

She's thinking of him as Jeremy, not the little brother. He hears it in her honesty. Sees it in the curve of her lips, the relaxed slope of her shoulders.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he reaches for her. Cups the back of her neck with his right hand, tangles fingers into her hair, claims her mouth.

The whole world pauses, waiting for the verdict.

She reaches out - to hold him, pull him closer, not push him away - her lips open to him. It's sweet and hungry and so natural, it takes him by surprise when he finally pulls out of the kiss and they stay close, eyes open.

"Jer -"

"Shh. It's okay."

"I know. I know I'm okay with you."

"Good."

She smiles - the rare, genuine thing - and kisses him again. Together, they aren't alone.