Damon was tired they type that is to the bone, head hanging heavy, feet dragging…tired.
All he wanted was to see Emily, eat something, and curl up on the couch with her in his arms. Nothing sounded better than that in this moment and those thoughts gave him the energy to drive him to her New York condo (soon to be ex-condo, if he could convince her to move into his brownstone) and trudge up the stairs to her door.
She let him in with a soft "Oh, Damon…" upon seeing him. She was good like that, sensing his moods like they were her own. Toeing off his boots by the door, and setting down his message bag and guitar case on the floor, he turns to her…just to have her envelop him into a hug before he could do so to her first.
He couldn't tell you what he ate for the life of him—some sort of meat dish with pasta —only eating enough to make sure that he was full and would have something to replace some of the calories he'd burned during the day while rehearing for his worldwide tour . Washing the plate and fork quickly and placing it in the dish washer, he moves to her living room. She's waiting for him, already curled on the couch, red blanket loosely thrown over her legs. Smiling, she lifts the corner, beckoning with her hand for him to come join her. He wastes no time. Sliding under the blanket, he manhandles her bit (causing her to giggle of course), in order to rearrange their limbs so he can hold her close to him, drawing the blanket up over them. Cocooned together, he can finally feel the tension from the day of rehearsing melt away and looking down at her, with her eyes closed and her head resting on his chest and with an arm around his waist holding him close, he smiles. He finally allows himself to close his eyes and drift off into dreamland, securely wrapped up in her.