Title: Scarred and Bleeding

Summary: Damon and Elena are FBI agents who don't really get along well; after she gets injured during an assignment, things start to change.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this work.

A/N: Based off cutepjs amazing photoset - post/42045059512/au-damon-and-elena-are-fbi-agents-who-dont


Beep. Beep. Beep.

Groan.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

With a slap of his hand, Damon silenced the offending alarm clock. He rolled over to his side, taking note of the petite brunette tangled up in his sheets. Her hair was cropped just above her shoulders and her skin was tanned from the Georgia sun. The girl whimpered in her sleep, tucking her body further into a tiny ball. He called her the girl because he couldn't remember her name. It was a side effect of the amount of alcohol he consumed on the weekend. Occupational hazard.

Quietly he stood up and searched the ground for her purse. He found it strewn haphazardly against one of his frames. Making sure to keep an eye on the girl, he bent down and rifled through the tiny silver purse. Damon pulled out her driver's license and studied the information.

Andie Starr. Damon rolled his eyes. He slipped the license back in its rightful place, not even bothering to make a mental comment about the possible jobs a name like that would succeed in. Careful not to wake his latest bedmate up, Damon slipped into the shower and washed the remnants of the previous night off his body. He was covered in glitter and groaned at the thought of what state his bed must be in. Laundry would have to be done and he made a mental note to leave a tip for Vicki, the cleaning lady.

Once he was washed off, he turned off the shower and wrapped one of his cotton towels around his waist. The scene he came in on was one he had seen a thousand times before. Well, maybe not a thousand. Hundred? Definitely more than twenty but who was being technical. Andie Starr sat on the edge of the bed, her party dress on as she leaned over and slipped on her heels. Damon smirked as he approached his bed's latest victim.

She blushed as he approached, her eyes raking over his wet body. "So… I've got to get going."

With her heels secured, she reached forward and grabbed her bag. As Damon stepped towards her she stood and let him envelop her in his arms. It was a fantasy she was letting herself live in as she tilted her head up and kissed him. He hummed into the kiss, letting his hands drift down and squeeze her backside. She squirmed in his arms and nipped his bottom lip.

"It was fun."

Damon's eyes darkened. It certainly had been. Not that he would ever see her again. His job came with certain cons and a steady girlfriend was one of them. He couldn't have anyone he cared about get trapped in the crosshairs of his job. The one night stands were necessary. They would hate him when he wouldn't call but if they knew the truth it would bring out an entirely different reaction.

"Very," Damon grinned, planting one last peck upon her awaiting lips.

He walked her down the stairs of his family home; a home he had inherited following the death of his parents. They made quick goodbyes and he watched as she made her way into her car. Yeah, he made them drive. He was a dick because of it. But there was no way he could have someone trailing them just because they knew his license plate. He had to be careful with his extracurricular activities. It was a matter of life and death.

Just as her yellow Volkswagen disappeared from his lot, he heard the familiar sound of the Star Wars theme song chiming from his phone. It made him feel like a badass every time he heard it. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made it to his phone just in time.

"Salvatore," he answered.

He heard a grunt on the phone and could almost imagine his boss Alaric Saltzman scooting his chair towards his desk. "You better be en route, Salvatore. Your new partner is already waiting outside my office on time mind you."

"Good to know the newbie's punctual," Damon replied, already slipping on a pair of slacks. He hadn't forgotten about the very reason he allowed himself to get hammered last night. Another new partner. Just what he needed. They never lasted long. Couldn't handle his sarcasm. Couldn't handle the way he got things done. Just another new guy who wouldn't make it through the week.

Alaric grumbled. "This is your last chance. You mess this one up and I'll have you doing desk work until retirement. I don't care how good you are at catching perps but you need to realize this isn't a one man job. It's good to have someone watching your back."

Damon rolled his eyes as he buttoned up his shirt and fastened his cufflinks. He had his jacket on and was on his way down the stairs before Alaric had finished talking. "Gotcha, bossman."

"I'm serious, Salvatore. Now get your ass in here."

"On my way," Damon sang as he opened the door to his '67 Chevy Camaro. It was his pride and joy and it purred like a kitten.

He hung up the phone and started the engine. There was no way the new guy was making him look bad on the first day. His car blazed through the small town traffic and entered the city limits within seconds. Speed was his ally as he raced his way to the office and arrived with time to spare. He passed through security and slid his ID card through just in time to punch in and was on his way to the tenth floor before Alaric could look at his watch for the tenth time.

Damon exited the elevator and gave a few greetings to his co-workers. He grabbed himself a cup of coffee and slipped his suit jacket on the back of his desk chair. His office was clean and tidy, unlike that of his peers. He kept it neat in order to avoid any unwanted chaos. There was enough of that on the job. He needed to control what he could.

The was a knock on his door and he looked up to see his boss leaning against the door frame.

"Need to get that Rolex checked? Cause according to mine I made it just in the nick of time." Damon smirked as he sipped his coffee.

Alaric shook his head. "As I recall I asked you to be in my office first thing not to dawdle around here like we don't have criminals to catch and crimes to solve."

Damon shrugged. "You wanted me to make a good first impression. Can't do that without my morning coffee."

Something akin to a guffaw came out of his boss' mouth. "Unless that's Irish you're still going to be an annoying little shit."

"Come on, Ric," Damon jibed. "You know you love me."

Damon and Alaric went way back. Some might even say he was Damon's best friend if they didn't care about ages. Mentor if they did. They drank hard and fought harder and it was because of Ric that Damon was even useful. After the death of his parents, Damon had lost himself. He was a punk who got himself into trouble constantly and it took a slap to the head and a talk or two from Ric before he got his shit together. Alaric got him into the Academy and helped him make his way to where he was today. One of the most talented agents the Bureau could ask for.

Alaric rolled his eyes. "You sound like that stupid Gossip Girl show my daughter can't stop talking about."

"Now Ric, we both know you watch it too. We're all friends here."

"Shut it, Salvatore, or I'll stop Jenna from inviting you to Sunday dinners."

Clutching his hand to his chest, Damon mock collapsed. "You'd let me starve? Harsh."

"Just get in my office. Let's not keep your new partner waiting any longer than we have. Top agent from D.C."

Damon's eye nearly bugged out of his head. Just what he needed; another pissing contest to get into with the newbie. He'd been there before. Two partners ago some big shot out of Chicago thought he could come walking in like he owned the place. One ass whooping from their first assignment sent him back to the so called big leagues with his tail between his legs.

"Don't start," Alaric warned. "This is your last shot. Make it work."

They hadn't even met and Damon already hated the guy. His job was everything. It was the reason he continued on with his pitiful life. If this guy messed with it he was going to have another thing coming to him. The moment they got a second alone he was going to give it to him straight.

Alaric pushed open his office door and ushered Damon inside. Damon's eyes scanned the room, looking for the person he would be stuck with until he retired or died, whatever. When he saw he wasn't seated in either of the chairs across Alaric's desk, he scanned the room. That's where he saw her. Reading the titles in Alaric's bookcase was a brown hair goddess. She had legs for days and ass that looked phenomenal in the black pencil skirt she was wearing. Her hair went down to her waist and was pin straight and looked silky smooth. Damon could actually imagine his hands raking through it and he yearned to touch it.

She turned towards them and his eyes immediately jumped to her doe eyes that stared towards him. She wore a dark blue button up and a black blazer that had her ID secured to her coat pocket. Her face was round and her lips were plump and only thinned as her mouth widen in a smile. A brilliant smile that had him weak in the knees. Him, Damon Salvatore, was actually having trouble standing because of some girl. She was gorgeous. There was no other way to describe it.

"Damon Salvatore," Alaric stated, "I'd like you to meet your new partner, Elena Gilbert."

Damon's eyes widened.

His partner was a girl. A girl he found himself attracted to.

He was screwed.