What if Damon and Elena are celebrating the first night they met right now?
"Elena? Are you okay?" Damon found her in the kitchen, chomping on some cereal, her shoulders slumped.
She looked up sharply, "Oh, yeah," she smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, "I'm fine."
"Uh-huh," he looked at her with an eyebrow cocked, indicating his recognition of her obvious bullshit. He leaned over to peck her lips, "Morning."
She kissed him back, deepening their greeting, "Mmmm, morning."
He skimmed a hand down her back, testing the waters. No goose bumps appeared and she separated her lips from his to look up at him with warm eyes-though there was a significant lack of sparkle and enthusiasm.
Okay, he registered, this is clearly not a mood to be fixed. At least not with the usual methods.
He kissed her on the forehead and moved his hands down to her waist to pick her up and prop her on the granite island on which she had been eating her cereal.
She watched him and smirked sadly as he placed his torso between her legs and looked up at her.
For the first time in his life, seeing Elena on the verge of tears didn't send him to crazy-town. Usually he shut down and yelled at her, or left her standing alone, or completely just broke down. Then again 99% of the time, he was the one who made her cry in the first place. Maybe that's why this time, he was okay, his heart was breaking into a million pieces of course, but he felt like he could probably handle this one.
He had gauged what was going on in her body. Her heart beat was slow, she kept holding her breath to keep herself from crying, and instead of making out with his neck, she was resting her forehead onto his chest, and her hands rested at his sides.
He felt a dull weight on his chest, which he guessed most likely echoed a much heavier weight on Elena's.
Damon kissed her head and reached around to rub her back lovingly. He mumbled against her head, "So, are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"
She lifted her head and wrapped her arms around his neck. They embraced tightly for a bit and then they relaxed into each other's arms and she rested her head on his shoulder and mumbled, "It's been two years today since they died."
Damon almost flinched when the dots connected.Ohhhhhhhh. Got it.
He gave her another tight squeeze, but didn't say anything, just held her for a while. It wasn't out of a genius plan or an epiphany either. Elena had experienced more grief than anybody, who was he to try to make her feel better? So, yes, it was pretty much just out of paralysis that he ended up clutching her tightly while she let out her tears into his shoulder.
After only five minutes, her sniffles died and she released Damon with a determined deep breath in. She let it out in a huff, "Oh god, I'm sorry. Ugh, I'm so sick of this. I really wish I hadn't looked at the date today."
He forced a chuckle, "That's the beauty of eternity, dates kind of stop mattering. Especially once you become well versed the rest of the world's calendars."
Elena cocked an eyebrow, "You know all of the calendars in the world?"
He poked Elena in the ribs, which made her jump, "No, that's ridiculous," he teased, "And impossible considering most of them went out of use by the time I made my glorious entrance onto this fine planet."
Elena rolled her eyes, "Well, which ones are you well versed in?"
He began listing, "Well, most of the ones in use today. Gregorian, obviously, though it's significantly less elegant than most, don't even get me started on the names of the months. Julius Caesar, holy hell. The Hindu, the Hebrew, the Hijri, the Chinese, the Julian, and hell, I even know a thing or two about the Baha'i Calendar, though that one's probably the most straight-forward."
Elena grinned, "What about the Mayan?"
Damon grinned back, "Excellent question. That one, I've never actually gotten around to investigating."
"Maybe you should," she suggested it absentmindedly stroking the hair on the back of his neck.
Damon chuckled again, and pulled her tightly against him, noting how her heart rate had gone up and her mind seemed to have departed its formerly gloomy realm, "I think there are more pressing matters somewhere around here much more worth my…investigation."
They smirked at each other before sharing a short, deep kiss. Elena wrapped her legs around Damon's backside and rubbed her feet against his upper thigh, indicating her mood shift.
Damon's strong hands massaged Elena's back while they kissed, interlocked in the kitchen. Their kitchen. When that thought passed through Damon's head, he gripped her tighter and a soft moan escaped Elena's mouth, which only encouraged him.
Their lips moved together comfortably now, the days of trying to figure out what the other liked in a kiss were long gone—they didn't last very long in the first place, thanks to both of them settling pretty quickly into a secure relationship. Comfortable or not, however, there was always a blazing fire behind kisses like this, one that was consumingly hot. Damon thought this over—in tiny, distracted bits—concluding that it probably had something to do with all the build-up and anticipation and goddamn angst of the past two years. If only he hadn't compelled her to forget that first night two years ago. Maybe, probably, okay maybe not, but it's entirely possible that if I hadn't, I would have immediately fallen in love with Elena, been transformed and not have had to deal with any of that shit, and it could've just been two years of this. Damon deepened this kiss, willing himself to get closer to her when she tugged at his hair to pull his head back so she could start caressing his neck with her tongue. Holy hell.
Almost if she had read his mind, Elena slowed down, shortly releasing him to look up at him.
"That's not all I'm sad about," she confided.
Damon looked at her quizzically.
"That night was also the night we first met."
Damon's brow cleared and he nodded with recognition, "Oh, don't worry about that, Elena. I think the death of your parents is a little more important."
Elena didn't even flinch when his words popped out, despite her earlier reluctance to say the words, "This is the second anniversary of my parents' death."
Instead, she poked Damon's chest and said, "Damon, it is important. Don't say that. I just wish the anniversary of the night I met the love of my life is tainted by something so tragic."
When Elena said, "the love of my life" he felt like his heart flew out of his chest. He was in no way prepared for that statement. So, instead, he did what he did best, cupped his gorgeous, goddess of a girlfriend's face, and kissed her, inhaling deeply. Almost as if he was trying to absorb every scrap of affection she might release.
During the kiss, her hands played with his frazzled hair, a habit she couldn't help forming.
"I'm serious, though," she said when they went back to talking, "I want to be able to celebrate the anniversary of the night we met."
Damon rolled his eyes, and rubbed her lower back, "Let me just say, for the record, that as a man, I have a moral obligation to hate anniversaries. Especially when there is no guarantee we will ever stop celebrating."
Elena scoffed, mock offended and crossed her arms over her chest.
Damon kissed her pout, secretly thrilled that she cared so much about commemorating a moment she didn't know existed until about six months ago. "Look, Elena," he said, "if it makes you feel any better, I think of all the couples, except for maybe the reincarnate-y kind, we have reached the most relationship-y milestones the most amount of times."
"What do you mean?"
"Um, okay," he stepped back slightly to rest his hands beside her legs in a more didactic stance, "What do you consider to be our first kiss?"
"Oh, uh," Elena flipped through the options in her head, "I guess when we kissed the night you were dying of the werewolf bite last summer."
"Yeah, see, for me, while it was great, I was kind of dying, and hallucinating and you were still dating whatshiface," Elena chuckled, "so, I prefer to consider the one on the porch after I compelled Jeremy to Denver our first kiss."
"Wow," Elena sighed, "you've thought about this a lot."
Damon wiggled his eyebrows, "What can I say, chicks dig a good memory for significant dates. You've certainly given me a challenge, though."
Elena swatted his arm and giggled.
He wrapped his arms around her again, "and for that matter, we have, debatably met for the first time three times. So don't worry, that, we have plenty of options for celebrating that anniversary…"
"May 23rd," Elena began listing, "obviously. But what are the other two?"
Damon grinned, "September 7th and September 17th."
"What? Which one is which?"
"Well, the 17th is when your fine ass showed up all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at my doorstep looking for my brother."
"And I found you instead," Elena grinned and reached up to stroke Damon's cheek. He leaned into it, kissing her palm.
"And the 7th?" Elena asked.
"The graveyard. There was some fog, a crow, a creepy angel…a diary."
Elena's eyes widened, remembering, "You are such a creep!"
Damon shuddered for dramatic flair, "Fortunately, my days of stalking young women are over. I had one day of it, way too Edward Cullen for me."
"Oh, they're over, huh?" Elena challenged, jumping off the counter and stalking away.
"What do you think?" Damon raised his arms, challenging back, "How could I when you've got me so whipped, I'm willing to celebrate about 20 different anniversaries a year! That's more than one a month!"
"You poor, poor thing," Elena teased as she swayed up the stairs, headed for their bedroom, "how could I ever make it worth your while?"
Damon chuckled to himself, if he had his way, one day they would only have one anniversary to celebrate.
But for now, he would let her have a few first meetings, a few first kisses, a few first times and a few first I love yous.
After all, they had all the time in the world.