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"I'll have a dirty martini. Shaken, not stirred."
Elena starts humming Diamonds are Forever as she rests her chin against the cool granite counter of the bar. The martini glass is slid in front of her and Elena goes to grab it. She sees the seven digit phone number written on the napkin and giggles flirtatiously. Elena's about to place the drink to her lips when she feels someone yanking at her waist. Her drink spills all over her hands and Elena curses loudly.
"Do you know how old she is? Probably young enough to be your sister. Did you even check her ID? She's not even 18 yet." The sound of Damon's voice is calm yet so deadly that the bartender cracks the glass he's wiping. The silly smirk is wiped off his face as he cowers behind the bar. Damon stands there, contemplating whether or not to kill the idiot. He decides its not worth his time and that there are more important things to deal with.
Elena.
Damon grabs Elena's hand roughly, dragging her away from the bar. Elena finishes off what's left of the martini and places it on the bar as she leaves; waving at the bartender. She stumbles, tripping over her high heels as Damon continues to tug on her hand.
"Slow down," Elena mumbles, trying to break free from Damon's grasp. "Stop, Damon," Elena slurs. She stops and rips her hand from Damon's steely grip. Damon is quick to re-grab her hand, his reflexes and her inebriation making it quite easy to do so.
He continues to walk with Elena tagging along until they reach the parking lot. The cool air hits Elena like a slap in the face and she finds herself shivering in only her skimpy shirt-of-a-dress. The world around her is spinning and she stops, trying to regain her balance. Luckily, Damon is there to hold her up and support her. She stands in his arms for a while, her body limp until she finds herself hurling over his arm.
"Not on the leather jacket," Damon grumbles. He carefully holds Elena's long hair back as she continues to puke onto the parking lot floor. She stops throwing up, wiping away spit from her mouth with the back of hand. She pushes her own hair back, stumbling a little.
She presses her body against Damon's, her arms find their way under his jacket. Her arms wrap around his waist tightly as she rests her face against his body. "I'm cold, Damon," Elena pouts.
"I'm not exactly the right person to warm you up," Damon says.
Elena's arms only wrap around him tighter. "I think you're plenty warm, Mr. Salvatore," Elena whispers. She tries to hear for his heartbeat or the lack of one; resting her ear on the left side of his chest. Damon firmly grabs Elena's shoulders, pushing her away.
"We need to get you home," he says slowly. Elena's eyes droop closed as she fails to look up. Damon lifts her chin with his hand, inspecting her. She smiles widely, her dry lips cracking.
Elena suddenly starts laughing. She throws her head back as if something is genuinely funny but isn't. She smacks two hands on Damon's chest, encouraging him to laugh along. She stops laughing, the tears streaming from her eyes.
"Laugh," Elena says with a heavy sob, hitting his chest. "It's funny. Laugh you, idiot," Elena sniffles, hitting his chest weakly. She passes out, crying against his chest.
Elena wakes up in a car, curled up in the front seat. Damon glances sidewards at her, a frown on his face.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Elena?" Damon hisses. "You just take off and I find you completely wasted?" Damon swerves sharply to the next lane.
Elena moans, hugging herself. Damon reaches behind him to grab his jacket from the backseat. He takes his hands off the wheel for a split second to carefully place it on Elena.
"What's gotten into you, Elena?"
Elena looks down. "You're not my mother. She's dead."
Waking up again feeling awfully tipsy, Elena finds herself being half carried, half dragged up stairs. Then, she's in a room. The only source of light comes from the fireplace and a few dimly lit nightstand lights.
Someone pulls away at the jacket she's wearing and also her dress. Elena resists, trying to push the offender away. The dress gets unzipped halfway and slides down a little, exposing the top of her bra.
"What are you doing?" Elena says incoherently, hugging her body protectively.
"You need to get in bed."
Elena swats at the hands, still trying to get her clothes off. "Why - do - I - need - to - be - naked?" Elena asks through heaving breaths.
"You need PJs," Damon says firmly. Elena shrugs, relaxing her body. She flops down on the bed, stretching her body out so that Damon can slide her dress off. He gets to her waist when she sits back up abruptly.
"Why are you doing this?" Elena asks, her tone heavy. "Why bother helping me?"
Damon continues to unzip the side of her dress, thinking for an appropriate response.
"I care about you." The words slip carelessly from Damon's mouth and he's grateful Elena is too drunk to notice. "You're my friend, remember?" Damon adds hastily.
Elena stands up, a finger pointed at his chest. "You care about me more than you should for your brother's girlfriend." Elena corrects.
"When did he ever matter?" Damon asks, his eyes boring into hers. He blinks, taking a step back. "We should get you in bed," Damon whispers. Elena nods, waving her hand foolishly.
She climbs up onto the large bed, crawling to the top of the duvet. "I know, I know." She sinks under the heavy covers, pulling them up to her chin. She's about to fall asleep when she sticks her head up. "Damon?" she whispers. "Damon?"
But there is no response.
Elena wakes up the next morning with her head throbbing. She peers at the bedside table to find some aspirin and a tall glass of water. She takes the aspirin and gulps down the water, not realizing how dry her throat was.
She stumbles out of bed and heads to the bathroom where she hears the rushing of water. She pulls her dress to cover her body as she goes to knock on the bathroom door. Damon opens it before she can knock and she walks in slowly.
"Take a bath," Damon says. "You're starting to smell-"
Elena places a hand over Damon's mouth. "Hold that thought," she says quickly before dropping to her knees. She pukes into the toilet bowl until nothing comes up before flushing the toilet. She stands up, smoothing out her dress a little. She walks past Damon before taking off her clothes. She unhooks her bra, letting it fall to the floor before realizing Damon is still there. She turns her head back at him.
"You can stay if you want. Or go."
Damon clears his throat, telling himself not to turn around. "There's a towel for you," he says, his voice unusually shaky. His vampire hearing hears fabric hit the floor and inhale sharply. He takes a quick peek back and sees her pale back bending over to get into the bathtub.
Elena turns around to check if Damon's left and he has. Odd, she thinks I never even heard him leave.
Elena takes her bath until the water gets cold and makes sure to rise out leftover particles of puke from her hair. She wraps the towel around her body tightly and goes outside to find a pile of her own clothes on top of the bed. She redresses quickly and wrings out the water from her hair. She sits down on the bed, feeling awfully bored.
Damon enters the room a little while later to see Elena quickly wiping away tears. He opens his mouth to say something but she starts talking.
"What's wrong with me?" Elena asks, hiccuping. "I used to be so alive and happy. Now I'm spending Wednesday mornings hungover and wanting to die."
Damon doesn't know what to say but takes a step forward. "I don't even know who I am anymore," Elena breathes shakily. "When did I become this way?" Damon walks carefully over to Elena. He doesn't whether to hug her or kiss her so he stands there. Elena takes his hand in hers and brings it closer to her body. She puts his hand to her breast, sighing slightly.
"Put your hands on me," Elena breathes in a very Titanic-like way. Having been on the actual boat and watched the movie, Damon knows what's going to happen next won't end well. She leans up on the tips of her toes and presses her lips against his. Her hands slip underneath his shirt and she runs her nails down his spine as she lines his lower lip with her tongue. Damon keeps his lips clamped shut as he tries to ignore the tingling sensation he's getting from Elena's nails grazing at his back.
Elena pulls away, frowning. "What's wrong?"
"Elena, what are you doing?" Damon asks, his voice tense.
"You make me happy, Damon." Elena looks up at him. "You make me feel alive." She feels Damon's body go rigid. "Make me feel alive," Elena begs.
Damon turns his head the other way, his jaw clenched. "I'm not your wonder-drug, you know. I can't cure you."
Elena's lower lip quivers for a second before she turns around and runs home.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Fine beads of shiny red blood drip onto the gleaming hardwood floors in a rhythmic pattern.
Slice. Slice. Slice.
Light reflects off the sharp metal blade.
Hey, this is Elena's phone. I can't come to the phone right now but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.
The phone lays open on the floor, next to the growing puddle.
Flutter. Flutter. Flutter.
Blinking slowly, her eyelids close and don't open again.
Hey, this is Damon. Salvatore. Call me when you get his, okay. I really need to talk to you.
The phone screen flashes with a new voice mail and a number of unread texts.
Thump. Thump. Thu-
What was once a steady heartbeat falters, now beating slowl-.
Fin.
A/N: What happened afterward is up for your own imagination. Only two more weeks before I can stop with the doom and gloom fics and start writing some Season 2 stuff.
Lemme know what you think in the reviews. Lemme. Like a lemon.