Hey guys, I love getting reviews, good or bad, advice or commentary, rain or shine. Elena might be annoying in this fic, but I made it to be funny, I hope it's funny.
Elena was resting on her bed with her eyes closed, trying to relax. The last time she had glanced at the clock, it read two in the morning. She inhaled, one, two, three. Four, five, six, she exhaled. Seven, eight, nine, she breathed in evenly. Ten, eleven, twelve, she exhaled evenly.
"Arg," Elena's eyes snapped open as she sat up in bed.
Elena glanced to her left to see Damon sleeping peacefully, with what looked like a faint smile on his lips. Even though she had sat up, his arm remained draped across her waist, and now she grabbed it and flung it away, hoping to wake him up, but nothing, not even his breathing pattern was disrupted.
"Damon?" she whispered.
Nothing.
"Damon!" she yelled and pinched his arm. That's it, she thought and used both hands to shove him in the side forcibly.
Still nothing, so she pulled back her hand and smacked him in the face.
Elena hissed as her hand started to tingle from the force behind her slap. There, she thought, that had to have woken him up.
Nothing.
"Okay you have got to be faking it!" Elena yelled, annoyed.
"No, I'm asleep," Damon murmured.
"Get up!" Elena gasped.
Damon just chuckled quietly.
"I'm going to take my shirt off!" Elena taunted, trying to get him to open his eyes.
"No you're not," Damon murmured sarcastically.
"Damon wake up," Elena whined.
"Oh, Elena," he groaned, exasperated, "what is it?"
"I can't sleep," she whispered.
"Oh, so that means I have to get up?"
"Yes," she answered.
Damon didn't respond, just closed his eyes.
"Damon," Elena whined, "I can't sleep."
"Oh I knew it was a mistake to ever agree to spending the night with you," Damon groaned as he swung his legs out of the bed and started getting up. "I'm going downstairs to make you some hot milk."
"Thank you," she sang.
After she had drunk her milk, Damon got back into bed and immediately fell back asleep. The same did not happen for Elena, though.
"Damon," she poked him.
"What?" he clipped.
"Will you sing me a song?"
"What kind of song?" he humored her.
"I don't know, a song from your childhood. A song your mother used to sing to you, when you couldn't sleep."
"Oh, Elena, I don't know," Damon mumbled rolling onto his side away from her.
"Please."
"If I sing to you, you have to promise not to disturb me afterwards, even if it doesn't make you go to sleep."
"Deal."
"Okay, get comfortable." So she lay down, and he grabbed the blanket and pulled it up around her chest, and then he lay down beside her, with his elbow leaning on her pillow to support his head as he gazed down at her.
"This is something I picked up in the Appalachians in the eighteenth century."
She didn't think he would actually sing, and he didn't, but he spoke the words with a purpose and eloquence so that it was like poetry.
"Black, black, black
is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like a rose so fair
And the prettiest face and the neatest hands.
I love the grass whereon she stands
She with the wondrous hair.
Black, black, black
is the color of my true love's hair
Her face is something truly rare.
Oh I do love my love and so well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes.
She with the wondrous hair.
Black, black, black
is the color of my true love's hair
Alone, my life would be so bare.
I would sigh, I would weep,
I would never fall asleep
My love is 'way beyond compare
She with the wondrous hair.
Black, black, black
is the color of my true love's hair."
As he spoke the lyrics to her, she closed her eyes and relaxed as his lulling and melodious dark voice soothed her along with the tender words.
When Damon believed Elena to be sufficiently sung to sleep, he turned over and sighed as closed his eyes.
"It didn't work," Elena said, a couple of minutes later.
"Ah," Damon said, putting a finger up, "what did I say?"
"But Damon," she whined.
"Ah!"
"Arg!"
Disclaimer: I do not own TVD, or "Black is the Color of My True Love's Hair," which I got from Lesley Nelson-Burns.