Timeline: post-4x01

Written for: Elisa (holdingonmyheart) as a belated birthday present. Belated partly because it's kinda too sad for a birthday present. Oh well.

Beta'd by: Marta (aka semele) and Amanda (aka feedmyflame)

Accomplished pre-reader and meta writer: Anya (findmysoulasigohome)

Previously published on my blog happytwinflames tumblr com. Follow for drabbles and rants. ;)

Damon stood on Elena's porch, calling himself every name in the book for even coming here.

He'd been avoiding her for three days. It wasn't that hard, given she'd been spending a lot of time with Stefan and Damon didn't really want to be anywhere near his brother right now. He was still mad at Stefan. Yes, that was it. And after his fight with Elena about his compulsion, maybe he was mad at her, too. He'd expected her to be angry that he'd compelled her – but no, she had chosen to bring their first meeting into this whole mess. She'd had the nerve to pretend that it would have meant something. He didn't expect her to be that cruel. That was one of at least a hundred reasons why he shouldn't have come here at all.

When she had called earlier, asking him to see her at her house, he should have turned her down. Told her to hang out with her boyfriend. Told her that he wasn't that guy any more, one she could beckon and dismiss as she pleased.

He hadn't done any of those things. Instead, there he was, waiting like an idiot for her to open the door. Somehow, it didn't feel right just to barge in like he'd usually done.

He heard Elena's footsteps and a soft sigh before she opened the door, her breath hitching slightly.

"Hey. Thanks for coming," she said with a tight smile. It took all his will power not to return her smile as he stepped into the house and closed the door. Fuck it. Maybe he was still that guy, but he didn't have to be happy about it.

"So, what's the urgent crisis that calls for my immediate attention?" He made sure his voice was laced with sarcasm.

"There's no crisis," said Elena quietly and cleared her throat. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"And where's Stefan?"

"Hunting. I didn't want to go with him today." She shook her head and added quickly: "But it's not about Stefan."

Damon curved his lips in the fakest smirk he could manage. "Well, look at your daily portion of mixed signals."

"No, Damon, it's not like that," she sighed, exasperated.

Really? Then what the fuck was it like? She was going to get all Twilight with Stefan and save Damon for when she felt like exploring her wilder side? Way to go, Elena.

God, he wished he could hate her.

"I know I've hurt you, and… things have been a little weird between us these days," she went on, bravely ignoring his tense posture and glare. "But I don't want us to fight. I missed you. You know I ca-"

"Okay, got it," Damon interrupted her, because he couldn't stand to hear that line again. So she had dumped him, ignored him and now she was trying to guilt trip him, because he was supposed to be grateful for her giving a fuck about him? Awesome.

He was about to tell her the same when she turned her head slightly, the angle highlighting dark circles under her eyes. The harsh words died on his tongue. Idiot. The girl had just transitioned. She had enough of her own issues on her plate, and that she wanted to try to make up with him regardless of them all was more than he could've hoped for, and certainly more than he deserved.

"You okay?" he asked. "You don't look so good."

"Gee, thanks." Elena rolled her eyes slightly and made quite a pathetic attempt to smile. "I'm fine. Really," she added in response to Damon's concerned look. Fighting the urge to reach out and touch her face, like he often had, he decided to let it go. For the moment.

"So, what did you have in mind?" he asked, still not smiling, but at least he didn't sound angry, so he figured it was good enough.

"I don't know." Elena shrugged, smiling. "I thought we could just, you know, hang out. Watch TV, maybe. I ordered pizza," she added gingerly, taking him to the living room.

Of course, Damon could still reject her. But he'd had enough tension and anger for the day and, frankly, he had missed her, too, and with Ric gone, he didn't even have a buddy for drunken confessions. He needed Elena as much as she needed him – at least that hadn't changed.

Elena opened the box, pushing it to Damon. He tore off a piece and tasted the pizza, pretending to be deeply in thought.

"Not as good as the real Italian stuff," Damon said in a serious voice, and then grinned. "But it'll do."

Elena flashed such a happy smile that it took his breath away. This was the first time since her transition a few days before that he had seen her like this. She probably hadn't really smiled that much since the previous summer, when they would watch TV and eat pizza every now and then, and it hadn't been awkward at all.

Elena sat down on the couch and so did he, strategically leaving the pizza box between them. She turned up the volume of the TV, and he looked at the screen, frowning.

"Friends? Seriously?" He shook his head. The last thing he'd expect her to watch was an old sitcom.

"Yeah, I figured I could use some fun with all the gloom in my life. Do you like it?"

"Nope. I can't like a show where the only more-less good-looking guy is dumber than a box of hair." Elena rolled her eyes, still grinning. "All right, the show's…not bad."

"It's great," said Elena, grabbing another slice of pizza. "But this is one of the last episodes, so I'm gonna cry like a baby, I guess."

"C'mon, it's a sitcom. Sure you'll laugh so hard you'll cry."

She chuckled and turned her attention to the TV.

"So what's happening here?" Damon asked.

"Rachel's going to leave for Paris, so she's telling her friends how much she's gonna miss them all."

"Paris? Didn't she end up with this dude?" Damon pointed to the screen, where Ross was yelling at Rachel.

Elena just nodded, so he decided not to distract her any more, and busied himself with a slice of pizza instead.

"Everyone gets a goodbye but me? What have I got to do to get a goodbye, huh?"

Damon froze, not daring to move an inch. He heard Elena's heart rate speeding up (and she could undoubtedly hear his heart racing, too), and what's worse, felt her eyes on him. He willed himself not to look at her, pretending that he was as relaxed and carefree as he'd been a minute ago. He felt like he was failing at this task.

"You know what?" Ross went on. "After all we've been through, I can't believe this is how you want to leave things between us. Have a, have a good time in Paris."

Damon looked at the screen, barely seeing it, as Monica, Chandler, Phoebe and Joey fussed around a pregnant blonde he didn't remember.

In a moment, Rachel burst into Ross' apartment, slamming the door.

"You really think I didn't say goodbye to you because I don't care?" she asked, tears in her eyes. Damon glanced in Elena's direction – her breathing was uneven, her pulse erratic, and her hands were clutching the remote control so hard that her knuckles were white.

"It is too damn hard, Ross. I can't even begin to explain to you how much I'm gonna miss you. When I think about not seeing you every day, it makes me not want to go… Okay, so if you think that I didn't say goodbye to you because you don't mean as much to me as everybody else, you're wrong. It's because you mean more to me. So there, all right, there's your goodbye."

When Ross grabbed Rachel's waist and kissed her, Damon looked at Elena again to see tears rolling down her cheeks. Cursing everything in the world, especially the damn sitcom, Damon put the box on the floor and moved closer to the crying girl, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into him. Instead of soothing her, somehow it made her cry harder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his chest. "I never wanted… you know-"

"I know," he confirmed quietly, stroking her hair. "Ssh."

Elena pulled back and smiled through tears as he started tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears. "Are we okay?"

Damon sighed. He couldn't say "no" to her – he never could. But he wasn't going to lie to her, either.

"We're getting there," he said with a faint smile, stroking Elena's cheek. Her arms went around his neck, and she pressed her forehead to his shoulder.

"Thank you."

They finished their pizza, talking about something unimportant until he felt the ever-present tension in the room melting away, replaced with a sense of comfort and familiarity he'd come to miss lately – and it had nothing to do with Elena's transition.

That was when he decided it was time to leave and told her so. What he didn't tell her was that Stefan would probably be there soon and he didn't need another fight with his brother – he'd had enough of those lately.

"Thanks for cheering me up," she said, and he smiled in response.

"Anytime."

Walking out of the room, he cast the last glance at the TV, where the next episode of the damn sitcom was already finishing. Rachel stood in Ross' apartment, nervous and almost… hopeful?

"I got off the plane."