Well, I sort of love Damon, and this came from how he could never remember Matt's name...haha.
Unfortunately, for me, all this belongs to LJ Smith. (Sighs, and waves goodbye to Damon, who is locked in the backseat of a car, driving down the road.)
Just a Dream (Unfortunately)
"Damon?" She said, leaning closer to him, whispering. Her mouth was a mere centimeters from his. Stefan who?
"Yes?" He tried to keep his voice from shaking, it would be ridiculous to let it, he was how many years old, he had done this how many times? Get. A. Grip.
"I…I think I love you. More than him."
Damon didn't say anything, how many times had he dreamed of her saying that, had he imagined the endless scenarios, and even more endless possibilities of what that would lead to, his Princess of the Dark was finally coming home.
"I told you that you would." He regretted his choice of words immediately, the corners of her lips turned down, and a wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows.
He reached up to touch her chin, stroking the crease there.
"Stefan wouldn't be so smug." Damn it, she really did know how to play him.
Before a human could blink he had her turned under him, and he was hovering over her, a wicked grin on his face.
"How many times do we need to go over the fact that I am not Stefan?"
"Once more."
Damon leaned down, finally meeting her lips with his. She sighed into his mouth, and he knew he shouldn't be feeling this way, wanting her body more than her blood…it just wasn't natural.
His hand was trailing lower and lower, until it got to the waistband of her jeans, he slipped one of his fingers through it when…slam!
Damon was leaning against the side of the Jaguar, between the tire and the door, when someone slammed said door.
Magpie. Of course, he should have known.
The human didn't look the least bit sorry, in fact he had become rather contemptuous since they began this little road-trip. Road-trip. Hardly. It was more a cross-worlds-desperately-useless-attempt. Yes, that was much more accurate.
Damon allowed dreams of killing Mac float into his head, of finally getting him the hell out of here.
"Mutt," Damon started, pulling himself from his reverie.
"You have how many super abilities, how many memories your brain can hold, but somehow Matt escapes you?"
Damon continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Didn't anyone tell you it was rude to wake up a sleeping vampire?"
"Yeah, they also said something about fantasizing about your brother's girlfriend." He snorted and went to go find Elena, presumably before Damon took his head off.
Perhaps Mick wasn't as stupid as he looked. And acted. And generally presented himself to be.
Damon found it was much easier to concentrate on the M boy's imminent death for the rest of the afternoon than his previous dream.
Because, although under torture and death he would never admit it, something cracked through his stone shell whenever he thought about Elena leaving Stefan for him.