Vampire Diaries fanfic
Damon and Elena Pairing – what takes place after the season finale, in my own version of things.
*Disclaimer, I don't own any of these characters or the pre-existing plot.
He moved a fraction closer, torn between what he wanted to do and what he knew was right. Placing a chaste kiss to her cheek, he had almost decided to leave it at that, but something in her eyes held him there, transfixed. For a long pregnant pause, he hung there, unable to pull away completely. There was so much more he wanted to say, to make her understand…
Surely she would move away. As Damon leaned closer, he half expected her to draw back with disgust, see those dark eyes harden with disdain, but all he saw was acceptance. Maybe he was only seeing what he wanted to see, but finally deciding that he didn't care, he closed the distance between them, brushing his lips against hers tentatively. A thrill coursed through him when she didn't reject him, and the blood sang in his veins as he felt the tentative touch of her tongue against his.
This was far more than he could have hoped for, and his hand sank into her dark tresses, binding her to him as he tried to show her with his kiss what he couldn't quite bring himself to say aloud.
When Jenna opened the door, Damon could have joyfully wrung her neck. Pulling away guiltily, he couldn't look at Elena, couldn't bring himself to see the regret on her lovely face. He could hear the frosty censure in Jenna's tone, but that was the least of his worries, he could care less about what she thought of him, she was less than nothing to him. Still roiling from the rapid swirl of emotions, Damon looked up to catch a final glimpse of Elena before she disappeared inside, her expression inscrutable. A little smirk was given and he was on his way, trusting the chilly night air to cool his blood.
Deciding to walk home, Damon's step grew jauntier the further he went, and he began to whistle a cheerful tune, his heart feeling light. Ok so things hadn't ended exactly as he might have wished, but… she'd kissed him back. It was more than he'd thought possible given her feelings for Stefan.
She might have pangs of regret and torture herself over that momentary betrayal of his brother, but the fact remained; something had passed between them and now that he had his foot in that particular door… who knew what the future would bring? It gave him something he had thought lost for longer than he could remember.
Not bothering to keep it down as he entered the Salvatore mansion, Damon continued to whistle, heading straight for the liquor cabinet, and pouring himself a healthy drink.
"You seem awful chipper." Stefan's voice rose from the shadows near the fireplace, tinged with suspicion as always.
"Baby brother!" Damon called out cheerfully. "What are you doing sitting here all alone in the dark? Oh no wait… brooding in the dark, must be Thursday night." He raised the glass in a toast and drank deeply, sauntering over to the fireplace to lean casually against the mantle.
Stefan bristled at the appellation, as if the scant few years between them made much difference after all this time. Just as quickly he scolded himself for letting his brother get to him all the time. He hated to think what Damon had been up to out there to put that smirk on his face. "What have you been up to?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" The trademark smirk was deliberately in place as Damon turned to face him.
"Cool your jets, I was just out… having fun." A raise of a single eyebrow was given. If he only knew…
That smug tone got under Stefan's skin, but even knowing it was deliberate, he wasn't able to resist it. "What are you up to Damon? Can't you just give it a rest? Wasn't almost dying enough excitement for one night?"
A short bark of laughter left his lips. "Are you kidding? What better time is there to celebrate the un-life we lead then having just cheated death? Again!" Sometimes he truly did not understand Stefan. The guy had everything, what the hell did he have to be so fucking gloomy about? "In fact… why aren't you out celebrating or consoling or whatever it is you do with your main squeeze?"
Stefan spoke slowly, as if explaining to a small child. "Because some of us found the whole double pronged attack to be a little fatiguing, and she just wanted to get some rest."
"Really? She seemed fine to me," Damon returned nonchalantly, swirling the last bit of drink in his glass and downing it.
In one swift, seamless motion, Stefan was up and out of his chair, slamming Damon's shoulders up against the hard mantelpiece. "What did you do to her!" he demanded.
"You know green really isn't the best color on you, little brother. You should really stick to warm tones with your complexion," Damon replied, seemingly unaffected by the display of anger, his smug grin firmly in place.
"I'm warning you, stay away from her." Stefan's voice was low and menacing, but there was an undercurrent of something akin to panic in his tone. This thing between Elena and Damon, friendship or whatever they liked to call it, did not sit well with him at all. It was only a matter of time before Elena was hurt, in his opinion.
Just as quickly, Damon pushed Stefan's hands from his shoulders easily, turning his back on him as he moved to the bar to refill his glass. "I have no intention of doing anything to Elena…" he looked up to catch his brother's gaze, "that she doesn't want me to do."
Stefan stared back at him, inwardly seething. Realizing he'd just been reacting as Damon had wanted, he tried to keep from giving him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he'd gotten to him.
Impressive. Damon could see the veins throbbing in Stefan's forehead from across the room but he hadn't risen to the bait. "Maybe you should be having this conversation with your girl. If… she still is… your girl." With a waggle of the eyebrows, Damon turned away dismissively, taking his drink upstairs to his bedroom.
Watching him with impotent rage, Stefan struggled to get his emotions under control. Going to the bar, he poured himself a hefty drink and downed it instantly, pouring himself a refill. The alcohol brought a welcome burn to his throat and warmed him, but it was no substitute for the craving that chose now to rear its ugly head. Grasping the edge of the table, he fought the swoon of temptation that swept through him, making him near dizzy for want of blood.
"One… two…three…" By the time he reached ten he could focus enough to open his eyes. Only then did he notice his hand, the glass shattered, fat droplets of blood welling where the broken shards of crystal were embedded in his flesh. Stefan stared at the blood, his mouth going dry.
Picking up his keys with a bloody swipe of his hand, Stefan stormed out into the night.
***feedback is love people.