A/N: I know that it has been…forever since I have updated any of my stories, but I decided that I needed a fresh start with Fanfiction. I left Life in the Shuester House alone due to it primarily being my friend's story. To start off the "reborn life" on here, I decided to throw together a story similar to that of Life in the Shuester House; Damon and Elena have their hands full with kids. I will try my absolute best to explain, but otherwise, it may be slightly OOC due to them having children.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the characters I created. All rights belong to their rightful owners.
Here is the Intro!
Introduction
Twenty-four years of marriage, holding each other tight, whispering sweet nothings into the other's ear, passionate nights, six on-the-whim trips, and countless speeding tickets for rushing to the hospital, the brunette before him looked stunning, even as she did her routine cardio workouts. She would occasionally glance up to catch him gawking at her, and smirk mischievously before continuing.
The house remained bizarrely silent, except for the hum of the heater and the tinny voice of the exercise instructor through the speakers. He glanced warily at the clock, dreading the second it chimed two-thirty; the time when all hell breaks loose. Rubbing his temples the tell-tale signs of an oncoming headache overcame him.
She bit her bottom lip when a slight burning sensation ran through her calves. Moaning out in slight pain, she collapsed to the ground to rest and stretched forward to switch off of the DVD player. Her upper spine cracked slightly as she rolled her hand in a circular motion, gaining his attention once again.
"What time is it?" She breathed out, the breath momentarily taken out of her.
His eyes darted anywhere but at the face of the clock, "Almost 2:25."
She nodded, rubbing the back of her calves to relieve the pain. For a 38-year-old, her body was holding up fairly well; muscles still taught and her stomach still lean and flat. Not to gloat, but she was damn proud of her body. Damon seemed to agree as well.
He stood to his feet, quietly walking into the kitchen and grabbing a blood bag. He was going to need it if he somehow managed to survive to the end of the night.
Just as his fangs sunk into the plastic of the bag the door burst open before slamming shut. The thudding of footsteps against the wooden flooring in the entryway indicated that a certain someone had arrived home. Their footfalls fell short before there was an equally loud thud of a backpack hitting the area that was assigned as the drop-off for backpacks, followed by an overdramatized sigh.
"I'm hooome!" Her voice reverberated throughout the house, smacking Damon across the face. There goes his time of serenity. He rolled his eyes as she walked into the parlor, excitedly squealing before wrapping Elena into a hug.
"Mom, you're home!" She exclaimed, squeezing tighter.
Elena smiled, returning the hug, "I missed you, honeybunch."
The teen laughed, "Missed you, too. How was your trip," She paused, unlatching from her mother, "Did you bring me anything?" Her brown eyes grew wide, bottom lip jutting out slightly.
"Oh, Kara, my little money-eyes," She broke out into a bright smile, "Of course I did. I brought everyone something."
Kara's smile faltered, "Everyone?" She sighed, crossing her arms in a defiant manner, "I thought you loved me." She stormed up to her room, slamming her feet against each wooden step to emphasize her anger. Elena sighed, flopping onto the couch in exhaustion.
"That girl needs to learn how to share." Damon muttered, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorway.
She stuck her tongue out, "She's only acting like any other fifteen-year-old." He shrugged his shoulders, warily glancing to the clock once again. Damn, he thought, here comes the stampede.
The door burst open, not shutting until the last child stepped through. Tabitha, with her raven pixie hair, led the pack, purse slung on her shoulder. She smiled brightly, kissing her father on the cheek.
"Hey, Dad," She laughed when he made a face, her laugh like a silvery bell. A line seemed to have formed; Kristine, brown-eyed and caring, Elizabeth, one of a handful of wild children, and Grayson, cocky smile playing on his lips. After giving each of his daughters a hug, and a fist pound to Grayson, he leaned back against the doorway, watching silently as Mia, the ever-so-silent, young one quietly gave her mother a hug before slipping outside, completely ignoring her father.
Damon could not understand for the life of him what he had done to the poor thing. He felt horrible, coming to the conclusion that he had neglected her somewhere along the way in her early childhood. It's difficult to evenly fan out attention to all of the children evenly. He sighed, walking towards the foyer to shut the ajar door.
He turned back around, momentarily seeing a flash of something upstairs. "What the hell?" He filed through his memories, trying to remember when any of the children had darted upstairs, but came up empty-handed. Sighing heavily, he sped upstairs, another flash blinding him temporarily.
He rubbed his eyes, walking towards the source of the flash. His hands twisted the golden doorknob before pushing it open. There on the computer, as always, was the antisocial dark-haired fourteen-year-old. Damon crossed his arms, sick of seeing his son on the machine day after day.
"What the hell are you doing?" He hissed, eyes narrowed.
He glanced up, chocolate brown eyes saucer-wide and hazed, "Nothing." He turned back to the screen, another flash from a playing video emitted into the room. It never ceased to amaze Damon how Logan was Tabitha's twin, yet they were nothing alike. She had blue eyes, he had brown.
Damon sped towards the back of the computer, tearing out the cords. "You're going to go blind if you keep doing this, Logan."
The teen shot up out of his seat, lunging towards his father, "You bastard! Don't touch my stuff!" Damon shoved him away. He couldn't help but admire how Logan had his short temper. Before he could talk to his son to try to amend the situation, he stormed off, leaving his father dumbfounded.
"Damn teenagers," He breathed out, feeling the headache reaching a brink.
"Daddy!" A young child's scream reverberated around the home, "Daddy, help me!"
His head snapped up, suddenly alert. Speeding downstairs, he was met with the sight of his youngest daughter fighting with her older brother. Forced into each of their hands was the remote to the television, looking as if it might just break into two. Blaring out the speakers was the theme to Dragon Tales, and immediately, Damon understood why his son, Alex, would want to tear the remote away from his sister.
"Kailyn, give the remote to him," He gently ordered, eyes narrowed for emphasis. She looked shell-shocked. Her grip on the remote loosened just enough for Alex to snatch it away and flip to the sports channel.
She kept staring towards the remote before her gaze latched onto her father's face. Tears pooled at the base of her innocent, blue eyes, automatically earning herself a softening of Damon's eyes. Ever since he held a newly born Kara in his arms his heart had grown to accustom each child, enlarging the softer side of his emotions.
"Daddy," She whispered brokenly before her bottom lip jutted out. He could already hear the sobs even without her making any further noises. Before she could begin, he wrapped her in his arms, stroking her hair.
"Don't cry. I'm sorry. You can watch Dragon Tales in Kara's room," He whispered pleadingly, knowing Kara would throw a hissy fit if she found out. She nodded against his chest before breaking away and rushing upstairs.
Exhausted and defeated, he flopped onto the couch, not wanting to deal with any more children.