I just cant get the bad feeling out of my mind that Stefan is going to be fixed in this winter finale 'homecoming' episode and this ended up being my way of dealing with that.

It's Damon's POV. Naturally, it's full of angst and language, but there is adult content.

Also, this one-shot just sort of came out of nowhere and it's not my best work by any means. It's pretty much just thoughts slapped together, but hopefully you like it anyway. :)

The phone on the dresser buzzed against the wood and once again Damon found himself stuck somewhere between answering it and letting it go to voicemail. Either way he'd still get to hear her voice because obviously it would be her.

Despite the fact that he hadn't picked up once since he'd made the decision to leave Mystic Falls in hopes of distancing himself from the girl of his unfading fantasies, she'd taken the liberty of calling him at least once a day. As if it wasn't hard enough separating himself without her incessant need of reminding him of what he couldn't have if he decided to go back.

He had a total of 42 saved voicemails from her; each one practically repeating the same pleading statement to come home. And each time he listened to them he felt his feet lead him a little bit closer to his shabby hotel door. Then he'd get a flash of how he felt the night after the homecoming dance; the night everything had gone to shit, depending on who you asked.

The night Michael had gone apeshit crazy and decided that Klaus wasn't the only vampire he wanted to force 'lights out' onto. The night Klaus formed a surprising alliance with their Mystic gang and the night he'd removed his compulsion on Stefan; fixing his brother and finally riding him of his ripper ways. But most importantly, the night he'd been asked to escort Elena to the dance only to come back alone to a boarding house and listen to her moaning his brother's name in the room next door.

Yeah, he certainly wasn't going back to that. He'd rather drive a stake through his own goddamn heart than listen to that shit again.

So as the phone buzzed one last time and finally silenced itself, Damon knew he'd made the right decision. That didn't mean that when it buzzed a few moments later, signifying the voicemail awaiting for him in his inbox, that he didn't zip over to the dresser and listen to the thing.

Elena's melodious voice sounded from the other end and he was instantly bombarded with the way he'd felt only nights before the dance. She'd fallen asleep next to him, him of all people, and he'd gotten the privilege of watching her sleep. Of course he'd done this a thousand times in the past. He'd always watched over her, even before his brother took up human blood and the squirrels reappeared in the front yard. But this was the first time she'd let him.

She'd let him into her heart and he had no idea how far into it he'd traveled, but it didn't matter. He was in. And he'd gladly take whatever rocky friendship they'd developed over the hatred she'd felt for him only a few months before. And when he woke up the next morning to her body curled into him and her head resting in the crook of his shoulder, he swore to himself that he'd wait for her forever if it had to.

She'd opened her eyes to peer up at him and he could have sworn that time stopped, just fucking stopped, so the moment could expand and last as long as he needed it to in order to store itself in his private memory arsenal. But the thing that he remembered most about that moment wasn't the way that time extended unrealistically. It wasn't the way her body felt again his or the smell of her breath against his face. It wasn't even the way her breasts perked up under that cute little cami of hers. No; it was the way she looked at him when she realized she was sleeping with him. Not Stefan, but him.

When the smile crept across her face and she didn't try to push him away, but instead savored the intimate hold he had on her and accepted that the moment was indeed alright. There had been no kiss or moment where she burrowed herself further into him. Instead there had just been that look of contentment, of acceptance, and it was that look that would scar him for the rest of his fucking eternity.

Because who knows what that look could have become if Stefan hadn't reappeared to swoop in and carry her off into the sunset.

Damon tightened his grip on the cell clutched in his hands as Elena's voice cracked. "I just," she began before she broke off. There was the longest pause where he could almost envision the tear slip down her cheeks and he pathetically wanted to reach through the phone and wipe it away for her. He didn't want to hear her sob like that, and he especially didn't want to know that it was because of him. She'd made her choice, the same one she'd always make; Stefan.

It didn't matter if his moral compass had been positioning itself in her direction and only her direction for as long as he could remember. Stefan was her hero; not him, and it didn't matter if he slapped on the costume and pretended he could be that for her because they both know he couldn't. And besides, she didn't want him to.

"I just miss you and I just need to see you," Elena finally concluded with a long sigh before the phone clicked off and Damon slumped onto the side of his piece of shit mattress.

The words echoed like a death sentence throughout his head. He'd heard the 'I miss you' part before; hell, it was in pretty much every saved voicemail he'd listened to on repeat each night. But the second part had been brand new; something original he could hold on to.

He listened to the voicemail one more time before he dropped his cell into his pocket, swiped his wallet from the nightstand, and headed for the door. After that disappointing breakdown on his part, he needed to attempt another drink from a living source. He'd been unsuccessful so far, always hesitating and realizing that Elena wouldn't approve before he could manage to sink his fangs through flesh. Yeah, that damn moral compass of his still seemed to point in only her direction.

But he didn't think sipping blood type O from a chilled bag was going to do the trick tonight. He needed the real thing, straight from the tap, not a kiddie meal.

As he swung the door open, he was almost positive he'd had to of slipped into some deluded fairy tale. Because Elena was there – at his hotel room entryway with her hand lifted to knock on the door. He blinked twice before realizing that she wasn't a figment of his imagination. Her face was unreadable, even to him and he braced himself for the signature slap that was sure to follow.

But it didn't. Instead she crossed her arms over her stomach like she was attempting to keep herself together and declared, "You just left." And although the statement was supposed to be an accusation, it held nothing but despair.

She then shook her head dejectedly through the air and added, "You didn't even say goodbye."

She stared at him and he knew Elena wished her eyes could hold more fire behind them than they were. But she just looked so tired. She was downright frail and he couldn't help but notice the red rims around her eyes and the dark circles below. It was quite possibly the worst he'd ever seen her.

His reluctant heroic side, that only ever appeared in her presence, wanted him to wrap an arm around her and apologize, but he refused to let it. It wouldn't get him anywhere besides buried deeper into the emotional grave he'd already established for himself.

So instead his typical-self emerged. He cocked his head to the side and retorted, "What can I say; I'm impulsive."

But she wasn't having it this time. Maybe she was just too tired to deal with him tonight or maybe she was through with their back and forth, but she refuted, "You broke your promise."

And before Damon could help himself, he found himself throwing out, "Oh, the promise to never leave you? I thought that verbal contract became null-in-void when St. Stefan rose from the dead."

Still, nothing followed from her. No witty comeback and no entry into a bickering battle. Instead, she took a deep breath and sighed; one of those long sighs that speaks of frustration and utter exhaustion. Damon wasn't sure if it was his deflection from what she wanted to talk about or the past 42 days that had her so exhausted, but either way he was pretty damn sure it had to do with him.

Which only seemed fair since he was equally exhausted because of her.

"That's not fair Damon," she finally countered with a slow shake of her head as she pushed herself through the doorway into his tiny hotel room.

He turned with her as she made her way to sit on the bed and refuted, "What's not fair is you expecting me to stick around."

She finally lifted her eyes from the carpet to meet his, which were speaking everything his lips were incapable of. He couldn't stick around, not anymore. Not after everything she'd done to him and certainly not after everything he'd felt got the better of him. And she understood because her eyes drifted shamefully back to the brown carpet below.

Then there was a long silence as her eyes surveyed everything around the room. They traveled from one wall to the next, hitting everything besides him, as the moment stretched into oblivion. With most pairings a moment like this would have felt uncomfortable, but they weren't just any pairing and their silences were never just silences. Most of the time, more words were expressed through those silences than in the actual conversations themselves.

"I was expecting a little more out of your hotel room," Elena finally assessed.

He shrugged his shoulders and muttered, "Lavish didn't exactly reflect my current state of mind."

She eyed him suspiciously as a tiny spark reignited in them and countered, "And 70s retro did?"

He shot her his million dollar smirk because it felt so damn familiar attached to his face, and stated, "Some things only get better with age."

Sensing the double meaning behind his statement, Elena swallowed thickly as her eyes once again broke the line of contact. "I'm surprised you're alone," she practically breathed out.

"Sorority girls just don't do it for me anymore," he replied softly. Normally he'd have more fire behind his witty comebacks, but not when they both understood that they were only devised to keep himself removed from her. They both knew the truth too well that she was the only one who held the capability of getting anything from him now.

She nodded her head and bit her bottom lip, clearly feeling more overwhelmed and unprepared than she'd expected stepping into the room, and remained silent.

"How did you even find me?" he asked impatiently because the stretch of silence had become deafening. Funny how silence always contained more noise than anything else.

She shrugged her shoulders and answered, "A locator spell was simple. Bonnie had no problem doing one for me."

"Why are you even here?" he questioned. He didn't want to waste more time getting to the point because he couldn't do this with her anymore. He just couldn't sit there and pretend he was capable of this anymore.

That finally resulted in her eye contact. There were tiny droplets of moisture in the corners and it was easy to tell she was holding the tidal waves back. "Because you wouldn't answer any of my phone calls. I was worried about you."

The tears were certainly unexpected, but not the confession. She'd always worry about him because it was in her nature to do just that. She cared for too many people as it was without wasting the effort on him, especially when it wasn't the emotion he needed from her.

So he threw his hands up into the air and quipped, "Well, as you can see, I'm holding up just fine. You can check the trip off of your to-do list now and feel much better about yourself…"

"And because I remembered," she interrupted and Damon was almost sure he'd heard her incorrectly.

"Once you left, it was impossible to forget," she added, solidifying the fact that he hadn't misheard her confession.

He was instantly transported back to her bedroom and he could almost feel her satin strands as they slipped through his fingertips. He could sense the way her eyes lingered on his lips and the way he'd removed himself from the situation because it was the amicable move to make. It's almost absurd how much one single person can change who you used to be.

She then lifted herself from the bed and took a few steps towards him. Her chocolate orbs were directed on only him now as she declared, "But the biggest difference was the way I felt when you were gone."

Damon was frozen in place as something warm started coursing under his skin. He was pretty sure it was elation and it had been so damn long since he'd felt it this powerfully that he was stuck. He couldn't move a single fucking muscle even though every blasted one in his body was urging him to reach out and pull her into him. All he could do was listen, but then again, with the way things were going that wasn't such a terrible alternative.

"Somewhere along the way," she started but cut herself off. He heard her swallow and he hoped like hell that she'd just fucking continue because every nerve in his body was lit up and patience had never really been one of his better virtues.

"Somehow amidst you stopping by every night and our bickering and cooking chili and searching for Stefan just to bring him back and make me realize what I'd thought we'd had was simply a fantasy devised in my head," she rambled. "You became my best friend."

And then he sagged, feeling that elation slowly seep through his tough exterior as she threw him into the friend zone. Jesus Christ, how was it possible that this one girl could continuously use him as her punching bag and expect anything to be left of him by the end of the session? And how was it possible that he, Damon Salvatore, eternal stud and goddamn lady killer, could ever be thrown into the friend category with the one fucking girl he'd ever truly wanted more from?

She seemed to register his disappointment immediately because she reached out and latched her hand around his bicep. He lowered his head to look at her tiny fingers as they molded themselves around his skin and he couldn't imagine anything fitting together more perfectly. God, he was pathetic.

"And that's stronger than any relationship," she reasoned as Damon titled his head back up to look at her. Then her hand moved up to his face and her fingers slipped down his jawline as she whispered, "But also a great start for taking the next step."

"The next step," he urged because if this was actually happening and he was truly about to get everything he never thought he'd get, he was going to make her say it out loud.

But she didn't say a thing. Instead her lashes drifted down to cover her auburn irises and she inhaled, absorbing all of him, as her lips pursed and they made contact with his. And Damon was fairly certain he'd been staked and somehow thrown into heaven because this far surpassed any deluded sexual fantasy he'd created that included her in it.

She tasted incredible, like something rich and sugary that he couldn't quite place a name to and he knew it was because she was something entirely unique. No one or nothing stood a chance against her.

He couldn't stop his hand from tangling its way into her satin strands and making a mess of her previously pin straight locks. Not like he wanted to anyway, because hers had done the same thing as their kiss became rougher and passion exploded between their lips. Their tongues swirled together in perfect unison, like they were meant to share this dance long before it had finally happened.

And when she bit his lower lip, Damon seemed to have lost all control. His hands grabbed onto the cheeks of her butt and he had Elena lifted onto the dresser in a matter of mere seconds. Ideally he would have liked to cherish this moment, make it last as long as he could and explore every inch of her surface that had been teasing him for years, but he couldn't.

He'd waited too long for this moment to finally happen that he had absolutely no restraint over his hands as they unbuttoned her straight-legged jeans and slipped them from her body. The panties came next as Elena's lips collided with his neck and all he could smell was her liquid lust for him. It consumed him and he wanted nothing more than to drown himself in that luscious scent because her body was practically begging to be taken as he ripped her shirt over her head.

But that was when he forced himself to take a brief pause, because her naked body was something he simply couldn't overlook. Every inch of her was remarkable. Every divot, every crevice, every curve, they were all unique; like her, and she'd never looked more like a crafted goddess in her life.

And when she pulled her lips from his neck and grabbed onto the sides of his cheeks, he almost felt his heart pump in his chest. Her hair was a tangled mess, her lips were swollen, and her cheeks were flushed from enjoyment. And the realization that he was the reason she looked this way was downright surreal.

He felt the pad of her thumb slip down his cheek first before the worry made its way across her adorable expression. Her does eyes peered up at him as she asked, "Damon, are you alright?"

At the sound of his name coming from her lips, especially when she looked and felt the way she did, Damon was brought right back to where he was. This wasn't a fantasy, but an actual moment that was happening. And he had every intention of taking full advantage of it.

He smiled back at her and assured, "I've never been better," annunciating each syllable in the words before his lips crashed back against hers.

His pants fell down to his waist and he spared no time before sliding into her and god did she fit tighter than an actual condom. But she was as slick as a slip n' slide, and when Damon heard her slight gasp at his entrance, he nearly came right then and there.

He pulled out and entered again, with a little more force, just to hear that gasp escape from her lips a second time. It did, but was immediately followed by a pleasurable moan that had her head titling back and her body arching into him.

Damon smirked at the sight of her before lowering his head and devouring every inch of her body. As his dick worked magic on her insides, his tongue did the same on her outside. He started at her lips, worked his way over to take a few snips on her earlobe, and trailed down her neck until he reached her breasts.

The peaks were already primed for him as his tongue started to swirl in circular motions around them. Then his hand shot up to cup the other as his free hand latched on to white knuckle the side of her hip. She moaned in satisfaction as he moved in and out of her center, slamming her against his front, and Damon was positive that he'd never heard a more beautiful noise in his life.

When he knew she was approaching that blissful edge, Damon refocused his attention on her lips. He wanted to breathe her in as she exhaled that special moan into his mouth. So when his hand move up behind her neck and forced her lips against his, she reciprocated with a rough kiss.

As her lips pushed harder against his, her hips did the same thing and within seconds she'd reached her limit. She shuddered as the orgasm ripped through her and she breathed his name into his mouth. It was easily the most beautiful he'd ever seen the girl.

And when her walls clamped down around him, Damon pumped a few more times and joined her climax. Even despite the fact that he was emptying himself into her, he realized that he'd never felt more complete in his entire existence.



Damon woke the next morning with Elena's head in that familiar crook in his neck and her body flush up against his. There was a tiny stream of light breaking through the curtains that didn't completely cover the window and it landed only on her, setting her apart from every bit of their surroundings. Not like she needed help with that, but the light only made her more angelic than she already was.

When her eyes fluttered open, Damon held an unnecessary breath and waited for the look that would define everything that had happened to them the night before. Because anything could happen during the darkness of the night, but what really mattered was the way it looked when a little light was shined upon it.

The familiar smile crept across her face as she held his gaze and the look she was shooting back at him revealed nothing but content, acceptance. It was a look that would stick with him for eternity, but this one wouldn't scar him like the other. No; because as she closed the space between their lips, kissing him lightly, and burrowed herself further into him, Damon knew this wouldn't be a memory at all.

It would be an everyday occurrence.

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