I'm baaaack... Miss me?
I know I've written a Delena fic since the middle of November. The reason is because I wrote two fics (I Lied and Miles of Difference) and I thought that they were very similar. I can't say I'm disappointed in them, but I was worried my inspiration was failing me and I was writing the same thing again and again. So I decided to take a break for a while and get myself back on track.
Reason number two is that it's been Xmas and I've been busy at Uni so really I haven't had a lot of time.
BUT naturally I've seen the kiss from 3x10. I can't describe how BRILLIANT, FANSTASTIC, UTTERLY AMAZING it is! I have not seen the ENTIRE episode, as I live in the UK and I am waiting so I can watch it with my mum. But the kiss... No words can describe how happy it makes me. DELENA!
Anyway, I guess it inspired me to write this. Can't promise to write a lot of fics as am going back to Uni soon, but I hope you enjoy this one.
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own The Vampire Diaries or any of the characters; I also do not own How I Met Your Mother
xXx
Four Stages to I Love You
Let's face it: saying "I love you" is a big deal. Not to everybody: some people say it easily, without hesitation or thought. But for those people who believe it isn't a big deal don't realise the damage that can be done with those words; for them it doesn't hold meaning.
But for the people who do mean it – the people who wait to say it, usually go through the four stages. Elena Gilbert is no different.
xXx
There's the moment when you think you think it.
"For now let's just get through this."
He hisses it between his teeth like a snake – yet when was the last time a snake stepped in to rescue a damsel in distress? That, in a nutshell, is what Damon Salvatore has done for me. I don't know who is more surprised: my aunt and Alaric, Bonnie, Caroline who side-glancing at us, Damon himself or me.
I don't know how I can make it through the dance. When I first lift my hand opposite his it is stiff, robotic, filled with anxiety. But then I happen to catch his glance. Like a true southern gentleman, his eyes are directly on mine: definite, never-wavering.
I don't look away. To be honest, I'm not sure I can. So, with my eyes on his, I allow him to lead.
With Damon in charge, it's easier. My movement are loose, more natural. By the time both hands are together – sorry Mrs Lockwood, almost together – I can feel my worry emptying from my body. Breathing is beginning to be unconscious again, and the crowd blurs around me – us – like a massive painting.
We go together and before I can arrange my thoughts I think we are one. Our steps are perfect. We move – no, we flow as if we have been doing it for years; as if we spend every evening in his bedroom playing music and dancing together. As if we are actually a couple in love.
It's then I lose my head entirely. I am no longer a girl who is panicking about her boyfriend being on a murderous, blood-thirsty rage; I am no longer dancing with someone who, more often than not, I can't stand. Instead I am just a girl and he is just a boy, and we are just dancing.
Just dancing.
I am told later, by a wide-eyed Bonnie and a betrayed Caroline, that I was smiling as I danced. I can believe it.
I tell them I just had to get through it. I don't tell them of what I thought as I was just a girl and he was just a boy:
I think I might love you.
xXx
There's the moment you think you know it.
"I love you...you should know that."
I'm really, really trying not to cry, but I can't stop the tears anymore than I can stop the rain. I can't hold it in. Damon's dying. For all my talk of hope, I can't believe it any longer. Damon's dying, and I can't stop it. I can't fix it.
And it is so completely, utterly unfair. It can't be Damon. He can't be the one to die. If he dies, who will I talk to? Who will make me feel better when I'm being selfish? Who will keep me sane when I'm going under? Who will I go to when I need to just be?
I can barely get words out, but somehow I manage. "I do."
"You should have met me in 1864." I can feel his sad smile on his face. "You would have liked me."
It takes all the strength in the world but I look at him. He's sweaty and exhausted and yet my heart still skips a beat because, honestly, he is gorgeous. "I like you now," I say. Despite the tears and sadness I make sure my voice is strong, make sure he knows I mean it. Of all the things I can't give him, I can give him this. "Just the way you are."
Yet I can't leave it at that. Even though it may be all Damon expects – more than he expects – it's still not enough. So, tender and cautious, I move close towards him so I can feel his breath on my skin, close my eyes, and gently put his lips onto mine.
It's not what I expect. This kiss, it's not rough; it's soft, gentle, tender. Yet underlying all of it I can feel heat, flames licking at my lips. Is it because what I'm doing is wrong, illicit? I don't know, but all the same the heat is still burning me, as if I am directly under the sun.
Later, I tell everyone it was a goodbye kiss. I tell myself it was a pity kiss. But in that moment I lose control of my mind and I can't stop from thinking it:
I think...I know I love you.
xXx
There's the moment when you know you know it but you just can't say it.
"Where were you Damon?"
It isn't accusatory, not really. It's a question, and it breaks my heart. He wasn't there. He wasn't there to save me, and in this moment I've realised just how much Damon needs to be here. How much he needs to be with me. It's my fault as much as it's his. After all, I didn't know either.
"I shouldn't have left."
I look down, tears in my eyes. Tonight has been the worst night of my life, including the night I lost my parents. At least I wasn't terrified when I lost my parents; at least when I was in hospital I knew it was over. This night, it's just the beginning.
He squeezes me knee and I look back up at him. His face, it breaks me a little too. He feels guilty for leaving me. Perhaps, before, a part of me would have been pleased that he feels guilty. But not now; now it's just another thing I feel guilty about.
"I promise you, I will never leave you again." He looks right at me when he says it. He means it. I know it deep down in my heart. He's making a vow, and before I can stop myself I picture him saying the same words to me across the alter, and then him kissing me and the roar of cheering in my ears; of me dropping the bouquet and wrapping a hand round him, burying myself in him so we can be together, forever and always.
Even though tonight has been hell, I still smile at him.
That moment, that one right there, is when I realise that I love him. I know it. Don't get me wrong: I can't say it. The words are too big and lumpy to come up my throat, but it's still a big step. I don't know whether it means I don't love Stefan, but in that moment, the moment he gets me to smile when I want to cry, it's then I know:
I love him.
xXx
There's the moment you know you know it, and you can't keep it in any longer.
"No."
I look back at Damon, who's made his way down the steps. I want him to leave. He's just dropped another bombshell on me – actually, is it a bombshell if you already knew it but it just hasn't been spoken out loud? He's feels guilty. I get it. After all, Guilt City has a population of two, and I've beaten him out for mayor.
"No, you know what?" He has that determined look in his eye, and I feel my insides freeze. I've seen that look before. It's the same look Damon had when he snapped Jeremy's neck, minus the hurt and a little less of the crazy. Still, just like then my heart begins to race.
"If I'm gonna to feel guilty about something," he says, stepping back towards me, "I'm going to feel guilty about this."
Before I can do anything his hands are on my face, and I can't stop my face tilting towards his. His lips crash down on to mine and I think my heart will explode.
I can't speak. I can't think. I can't breathe. My hands go to his – does he think I will try and pull him away? Am I going to pull away. I don't. The truth is I can't. His kiss, sudden and thrilling and old and new all at the same time, it drains me. I can't do anything except go along with it.
But the thing is, I'm not just along for the ride. My body responses to it: I feel my heart leap from my chest, my breath catch in my throat, my tongue go into his mouth. I feel everything, and the sudden shock of it makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.
It may be years or seconds until he breaks away. Our eyes meet. His are tender, filled with the desire and...and... Oh God, he really does love me.
Before, they've been just words. I've heard them many times: from my parents, from Bonnie and Caroline, from Matt, from Stefan – and yet what have they changed? I still broke up with Matt, and I still fight with Caroline and Bonnie, I still lost my parents – and Stefan bit into my neck and didn't stop taking blood from me, from being cruel and making me question everything I've believed in.
But all those rules, all those reasons not to give into it – they are broken in his eyes.
He's going down the path again. I feel a sudden rush of my own determination. I am not going to let him go again. I follow him down the path, calling him. "Damon!"
He pauses and in contrast to me, slowly turns. I can't stop looking in his eyes again, and this time I see something else too. Those ice blue eyes (or grey – I can never decide) are alight with hope. It gives me courage.
I can't keep it in any longer. I've been fighting it for so long, one part of my mind insisting it's not true while the other part, the smaller part, quietly taunting and cajoling me, telling me just to let go. Just say it: don't think of the consequences of the fallout, just say it.
"I love you."
Damon's face... I can't describe it. It doesn't break in relief, not really, but it changes. He changes. He takes a step forward and grips my hands so hard if I wasn't numb with happiness it would hurt. "Are you sure?" he asks me. Those eyes – God those beautiful eyes – search me, as if he thinks this is some cruel joke.
I laugh; it bursts out of me like water from a fountain. "I'm sure."
"What about Stefan? What about-"
Tears form in the corners of my eyes, splashing down my cheeks as I shake my head. "We'll figure it out," I say. I can't stop smiling, can't stop looking at him – no, I don't want to stop looking at him. "Just kiss me again."
He smiles at me. It's the first smile I have ever seen from Damon that is truly, purely joyous. "With pleasure," he says and his lips find mine again.
And for the first time since my parents died, the first time since this nightmare began, I have finally come home.