just once, for luck
(prompt: elena patrol)

.

.

.

Her hair is wild, and free, tangled with the glitter in the air. The smile on her face glows white and wide, juxtaposing her eyes—dark, hazy, almost entrancing and if he keeps staring, he just might end up striding across the crowded dance floor and start kissing the fuck out of her.

But he can't, and he won't. So he just watches her from the sidelines, his spiked punch in his hands and his piercing eyes somber. School dances are for chums, anyways.

And then her gaze flickers to him; her arms are high above her and her hips are swaying like mad. She grins then, and he could have sworn he almost dropped his cup. Raising his brows in curiosity, she begins to laugh, prancing toward him and leaving her other (fresh and deliciously-filled) human friends.

"Damon, what are you doing?" he secretly loves the way the smile never leaves in replacement with an intimidating look of suspicion.

He allows his eyes to roam around the room in order to justify that he is the only one on watch. "I'm responsible for your safety tonight, remember?"

"Yeah, I know," she rolls her eyes at him and steals the cup from his hand, quickly shooting it down her throat in a single gulp. He watches her in amusement and (vampire-esque) clarity. Then she's grabbing both of his hands and tugs at them encouragingly and he absently wonders how much she's had to drink. "Doesn't mean to be all boring about it. Look at me, for example. No one's even here! Stefan, Caroline, Bonnie!"

"You already know that they're trying to locate Klaus. Leaving me on Elena-patrol." He doesn't realize she's still holding his hands until she squeezes in her cheery nonchalance ignited by the alcohol in her system. "Why are we even here anyways?"

"Jenna wanted me to go—told me something about doing something fun for a change," she laughs—again. "Even lent me this dress of hers. And that's not my point."

"Then what is?"

"I'm just saying that you should loosen up like you've always been. Stop being so serious and just dance with me," she proclaims pulling him as she starts toward the center of the floor. "Who are you, Stefan?"

He's the one to laugh this time as his body moves in rhythm with hers, his hands freely roaming on the curves of her hips. She doesn't stop him. The music's loud and the lights are bright in variations of coral and turquoise. She's smiling so wide that her eyes are almost slits and goddamn she could dance. She's driving him to his death, he could swear it.

And before he knew it they're outside; air fresh, cold, and blowing through them both in silence. His brother still hadn't called him, and since they hadn't been doing anything precisely close to dangerous—things were still alright.

"Damon…" she likes to ramble when she isn't sober. But then again, who doesn't? He takes a gulp of the Jack he has on him.

He turns to her, barely, both leaning against the wall behind them taking a breather from the color-splashing, lively scene.

"What do you think will happen when this is all over?" she lazily lets slip passed those supple lips of hers. Such a big question from such a naïve girl.

He's silent for awhile, hesitating because he hasn't given it that much thought in the past. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," she accuses waltzing away from the wall to stand in front of him, her index finger jabbing at his chest. And might he stop and think about her breath on his neck.

"The rest of your family will be safe, your friends will survive, you'll be protected and with my dimwit of a brother, Stefan, and I'll be there whenever you need me, kitten," Damon tries to do his signature smirk then, but there's something that won't allow the simple tug of his lips. He blames it on the way she's looking at him, her gaze somewhat breaking away after his prediction. "What now?"

She looks at him with that amber glare that reeked of something between regret and sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Damon. You know that I do like you and—"

He pushes a finger to hush her because words were not going to console him and the way things were meant to be. He shakes his head in a faux nonchalance and attempts to trail back to the dance to avoid the chat that would include rejection and pity that Elena likes to call a heart-to-heart conversation. He is taken aback when she abruptly pushes him against the wall—not that her strength marked any power against him, but he hadn't been expecting such a physical act against him to come from her of all people.

Her eyes are like fire on his luminescent ocean pools. And now he can feel two of her fingers crawling up his chest and he isn't sure where to look so he drops his gaze for a vulnerable second to make sure that his senses are not deceiving him. Back up, and there's the fire that's burning into his mind.

"What're you doing, Elena?" he questions her (drunk, very drunk) motive with his brows furrowed and his mouth a straight line.

"It's just that—it's not over yet and things just haven't been declared and nothing is even legitimate at this point in time and all I have right now—at this very moment, right now—is this, is us, right here. And I like it this way, with us. And I just, I'm never sure what I want and don't you dare call me an indecisive prick because I already berate myself for being one, but you know what I am sure of, Damon? I'm sure of right now, and I'm sure that I want you—right now. Because we can worry about the future tomorrow."

"…Elena?" he stands still, inhaling every word she's exhaled only centimeters away from his lips, her arms already making their way around his neck as she spoke.

"Yes?"

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

The saddened look on her face vanishes in an instant as her laugh fills the air and she cracks another famous smile. "Well, maybe I'm trying to pull a you. Am I turning you on?"

He sighs, grabbing her hand from the back of his neck and starting for the entrance once again. This girl's really killing him. Not that he minds.

The duo trail back inside to her school dance, being greeted by the fluorescence of the flashes above them merged in with the sweet smell of cherry licorice and feminine perfume. He brushes her hand with his lips before they dance until he gets the signal call from the other Salvatore.

Not too long after Damon drops her off at her house and supplies her with pain killers, water, and a mere (innocent, too innocent for his own good) kiss on her forehead, he escapes before she awakes to meet his brother. They speak of Klaus and John and the originals and Katherine and plans before he finally asks something the cerulean-orbed Salvatore knew was bound to come up eventually.

"How was she tonight?"

"Entertaining," Damon drawls with a smirk, leaving him to suspicion as he leaves and heads to his own room. Very entertaining.

.

.

.

note: may have been a bit ooc i know, but i mean, who isnt ooc when they're drunk?
note2: leave a review please! this isn't my proudest work. i spent around 40 minutes on it, actually. and i'm planning to make this a series of oneshots/drabbles, so give me prompts? thoughts?