Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries, the characters or the stories. I also do not own the song this is based off of.
Note: I apologize in advance to my followers. This is not my best work, but it is some gorgeous garbage.
Elena had never been to the boarding house before. Growing up, she vaguely knew about a house deep in the woods on the outskirts of town, but she never heard of anyone visiting it or never met anyone who lived there.
Stefan had scribbled some directions on a piece of paper after history class- they had a study date this afternoon and he wanted to show her his house.
"I have a few errands to run before we hang out, but if you get to the house before me, feel free to let yourself in. Just… don't mind my brother. His bark is worse than his bite." Stefan smirked to himself at those words. If Elena knew the truth, she would have laughed, but instead she raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"I didn't know your brother lives in town. The way you talk about him I assumed you weren't very close."
"Well, I just moved back into town, and I didn't realize that Damon had moved back too. It's… complicated." He leaned in, giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead. "Alright, I'll see you later."
She pulled in the driveway, a long snaking cobblestone thing. It circled around a covered overhang, but there was a large parking pad in front of an expansive garage. She didn't want to block the garage doors, so she slotted her car in line with two others outside: A red Porsche, and a large black pickup truck. The truck was twice as tall as her car, towering above her on lifted wheels.
Grabbing her backpack from the trunk of her crossover SUV, she swung the door closed and walked toward the house. There was no doorbell, only a large, intimidating brass knocker. It felt like a chore just to lift it with her delicate hand. Three knocks later, there was no response. She was about to turn around and walk back to her car when the formidable mahogany door flew open, cool air creating a vacuum to the warm, humid September afternoon.
"Hello?" She called out. There was nobody to be seen. Cautiously, she stepped inside, the wood floors creaking under her step. The house was gorgeous- all wood paneling and oriental rugs. It was much fancier than she was used to. Following what sounded like the noise of clinking glasses, she found herself in the kitchen.
"In here" A smooth, velvet voice called out. Elena was pulled to it, it had roped her in.
He was standing there in the kitchen, a vision of domesticity. An antique glass pitcher sat on top of the granite counter next to an old fashioned juice press. A graveyard of lemon peels piled on a cutting board, assembled with the other telltale ingredients of lemonade: fresh lemons and a canister of sugar.
A weathered white dishrag was slung across the shoulder of his simple black v-neck t-shirt. A mop of piecy raven hair fell across his forehead, easily pushed away by the back of his hand. As Elena walked into the room, his head jerked up, her hazelnut eyes entranced in his icy blue gaze for the first time. He looked at her like he saw a ghost- a very beautiful ghost. For a brief moment, neither of them said a word, until the silence became incredibly awkward. It wasn't like Damon to miss a social queue, so he squinted his eyes and shook his head, jolting him back to reality. He strode toward her, wiping lemon juice on his sun-washed Wrangler jeans.
"Sorry, I'm not used to having guests, you caught me a bit off guard." He extended a rugged hand to her, a silver ring with a large blue stone catching the light. It was the same as Stefan's ring. "I'm Damon, Damon Salvatore- Stefan's older, more charming brother." He winked at her, a smirk curling up the corner of his mouth. "Come on, have a seat." He slyly went from shaking her hand to leading her over to a barstool at the kitchen island. "I'm just finishing up some fresh lemonade- a family recipe."
He grabbed a large butcher knife, deftly chopping a fresh lemon in half. His arm muscles rippled, threatening to explode out of his tight shirt as he twisted the lemon around the juicer. He caught her staring, a blush flaring to her cheeks.
"I know, there are all sorts of fancy juicers nowadays, but I prefer to do things the old fashioned way. Hard work is good for the soul. So enough talking about me, you haven't gotten a word in edgewise yet. Tell me about yourself Elena… what is it?"
"Uhh.." She clammed up. "Gilbert. Elena Gilbert."
"Ah, Gilbert. A founding family. You know, the Salvatores were a founding family too. We already have so much in common. So what brings you here today? My brother Stefan I presume?" He reached into a fruit basket, tossing an orange into the air before plopping it down on the cutting board.
"Stefan invited me over to study. We have a huge history test coming up. I hope it's ok that I let myself in, at least- that's what he told me to do…"
"Studying? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" He shrugged. "I don't buy it for a second. A girl as beautiful as you- no guy in his right mind would be able to focus alone in a room with you." He grabbed half of the orange. "The mind might start to wander…" He winked again as he began to juice the orange. Bright red liquid oozed from the peel- Elena was confused, and more importantly, she wanted to change the subject.
"I thought you were making lemonade, why are you juicing oranges?"
"Oh, blood oranges. They're the secret ingredient." He locked eyes with her, his voice transitioning to a purring whisper. "You can't tell a soul- or else I'd have to kill you." Red juice ran down his finger. As he licked it off, it tinted his lips a ruby red. Her breath hitched, the moment freezing in time. She felt faint. Suddenly, a chill shot down her spine and her heart began to race. A chuckle broke her paralyzed fear.
"I'm just kidding- but southern families can get very protective over secret recipes you know."
"Southern? I never got that impression from Stefan…"
"Oh, I know. He likes to forget his roots. I'm out working in the valley all day, he doesn't even get up off the porch. That kid has no backbone, whipping around in his Porsche."
"Wait, is the red car out in the driveway his? I've never seen him drive that to school."
"Oh, that was my call. I wasn't going to have him walking into a new school like a rich kid who thinks he owns the place." He poured the juice from the bottom of the juicer into the pitcher.
"So… the pickup truck is yours? You don't strike me as a pickup truck kinda guy." It was true. He seemed rough around the edges, a bit of a bad-boy, but there was a certain air of sophistication about him.
"You'd be surprised Miss Gilbert. I can be quite the country boy. The boarding house is actually part of a functioning horse farm. We used to rent out our stables, but since I moved back into town I'm trying to keep it in the family."
"Horses? I love horses."
"You ride?" He poured a liberal amount of sugar into the pitcher, grabbing a large wooden spoon and beginning to stir.
"Ever since I was a little girl!" Her eyes lit up, the discomfort from before completely gone. "I used to do competitions and everything. My bedroom is full of ribbons, trophies.."
"I'd love to see them sometime." He winked. "I learned how to ride as a child, but I didn't do anything quite so fancy. I just like to go out, ride around the fields, check on my gardens, be out with nature." He tapped the spoon on the side of the pitcher a few times, drying it off. He fetched two ornate crystal glasses from the cabinets and filled them with ice from the fridge. Pouring the sweet lemonade into a glass, he placed it in front of Elena.
"That sounds nice actually. How many horses do you have?" She took a sip of the peach-toned beverage. It was sweet- intoxicating almost. She swore she tasted a hint of something floral, perhaps honeysuckle or elderflower. "This is amazing. No really- probably the best lemonade I ever had."
"I lied, there is one more secret ingredient. Honeysuckle trees grow all over the grounds of the house. Once or twice a year I harvest some of the flowers and press it into a syrup." He turned around, grabbing a tall glass bottle off the counter. It was full of delicate white petals and clear thick liquid. "I've been told it can be a bit addictive. And as far as the horses go...right now I have three. Corvo, Nero, and Esmeralda. Would you like to meet them?"
"Of course, but Stefan will probably be back soon, I wouldn't want to make him wait."
"He's going to be out for quite a while, he's doing some quick hunting." His smirk made it feel like a euphemism.
"For like… dinner?" She raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"Yes, you could say that." Damon dropped the subject, opening the trash can and dumping out the spent fruit carcasses. Elena shifted in her seat, taking a sip of lemonade.
"Well then, I suppose there's no reason not to see the horses if he'll be out for a while."
"I've got the horses in the back, horse tack is attached. We can even take a quick ride if you like." He took a long sip of lemonade, drinking it down quickly.
"You lead the way." Elena smiled timidly, sliding off of the stool. He led her through a massive living room and out a pair of gorgeous glass french doors. The grounds were expansive, going out as far as the eye could see. There were garden beds everywhere. Flowers, vegetables, fruit trees, all beautifully manicured and impeccably maintained.
"Do you take care of all of this yourself?" Elena asked, her eyes wide. Damon laughed.
"Most of it, yes, but I do have some gardeners who help- especially since I tend to come and go rather often." He hung a left, walking them toward a bay of stables. Like the rest of the grounds, the stables were well appointed and distinguished. Large dark beams cradled a high ceiling and the floor was paved in worn-in brick. Damon walked over to a wall, grabbing a matte black cowboy hat off of a hook.
Elena giggled at herself- it wasn't every day that you saw a grown man in a cowboy hat. Somehow, Damon could pull the look off. He caught her staring again.
"You like my hat? I got the boots that's black to match." He put his weight on one hip, cocking his boot on its heel to show it off. This time, Elena couldn't contain her laughter. "Would it change your mind if I told you it was Gucci?" She rolled her eyes.
"Ok, so which one is mine?" She walked down the row of stalls, each containing a spectacular horse.. "Nero is clearly the black one, because 'black' in Italian is 'nero'..."
"Good catch, but your Italian might be a bit rusty. See, 'corvo' means raven- also black." He walked forward with a swagger, gesturing to two stalls. "Now, both of these horses are black. But which is Nero and which is Corvo?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her. She stared down each horse, but there were no obvious clues.
"Nero is this one." He opened the stall on a gorgeous ebony horse. "I don't know how well you do in history class if Stefan is your study partner, but there's a pretty famous story of the Roman Emperor Nero watching Rome burn. My horse Nero has this gorgeous red streak in her tail- it's highly unusual, but reminded me of fire." He gently walked the horse back into is stall.
"By process of elimination then, the other black one is Corvo and the last one is Esmerelda? Which one do you ride the most?"
Damon walked over to the last stall, stroking a dappled mare on the nose.
"I ride Esmerelda the most, she's sweet spirited and calming- I need that sometimes. You know, my life used to be like a movie, full of hot girls, drinking, partying... You're looking at bull riding champion here." He winked. "But since I moved back to Mystic Falls, I've been enjoying the change of pace." Walking over to the horse in the middle, he scratched the dark horse under the chin." Corvo is the fastest and has the most stamina. Nero, he has a bit of a temper-"
He was shocked to look over and see Nero licking at Elena's hand as she giggled and cooed over him. Nero nudged at her, asking for more attention.
"... but I guess he likes you. Would you look at that. I wish I had some snacks you could give him. Remind me to bring some next time. Ok, so if we want to take a ride, the only horse saddled up is Esmerelda. You wouldn't mind hopping on the back with me, would you?" He unlatched the stall, walking Esmerelda out.
Elena would be lying if she didn't blush a bit at the thought. "Um, sure. She is yours after all, it will be faster than saddling up another horse. We won't be out long right? Stefan should be back soon…."
"It's a beautiful day, you know you can't say no to a nice ride. I'm sure he won't mind." Damon climbed onto the horse, swinging his strong legs over its back and settling in comfortably.
"How far out would be be going?"
"Well, I'm going to take my horse to the old town road, I'm gonna ride 'til I can't no more." He purred out in a twang. "Sorry, that's the bayou in me coming out, it happens. So, are you coming?" He reached down his arm to her.
She grabbed his arm, hauling herself onto the horse.
"How could I resist?"