"Do you regret it?"
Elena looks at Stefan, quietly taking in his slightly hunched posture and careful neutral face, the way he's already preparing to protect himself from what she might say. His hair's still damp from the rain, curling a little and her fingers itch to touch it.
"Regret it?" she says softly. She picks up the bag of blood and carefully opens it to pour a little into a glass; after all these years she's become comfortable drinking in front of him, no longer ashamed of what she is. She knows what he's talking about, their life together, the fact that she's a vampire.
They were in an anonymous hotel room, Elena sitting on the couch while Stefan leaned against the doorframe, both tired from the past few weeks. Returning to Mystic Falls was always draining, but returning for Matt Donovan's funeral had been worse than exhausting or tragic, it had drained both of them. All Elena could do was pace and weep,bursting into fits of anger and running for hours because otherwise she would have killed someone. Stefan would find her miles from town, too sick and tired to feed and he'd coax her back, gradually talk her into feeding.
She still can't imagine a world without Matt, a world where she can't count on his advice or comfort or incredibly lame jokes that despite their awfulness made her laugh. Even that horrible summer after she broke up with him, she always knew that he would be there for her. All her life it's been like that; even after she left with Stefan Matt had always been just a phone call away.
He's not the first of her friends to die, but it's been the hardest so far.
Slowly, Elena crosses to Stefan and offers him the glass of blood (what's left of it). As she watches him drink she runs her hand along his side, burrowing her fingers beneath his shirt and quietly tracing his skin, pathways she's skimmed a million times before and still finds thrillingly new each time.
"I hate losing people," Elena murmurs. Such a silly, obvious statement to make, but something that needs to be said. "I miss Matt," her voice cracks a little and she closes her eyes, trying not to cry but not succeeding in that effort; some tears stream down her face, amazing really because she's been crying for weeks.
Stefan sets the glass down and gently turns her face towards his, his fingers lightly grazing the tears. The composed expression has fallen away, worry and sadness written all across his face, and Elena remembers how well Stefan and Matt had gotten along. Just thinking about that ridiculous double date with Caroline, the way Stefan and Matt had so easily fallen into car talk brings a tiny smile to her face.
"You're smiling," Stefan whispers, his hand pressing against her cheek. It's the first time she's smiled in weeks and he tucks it away in his mind.
"Memories," Elena breathes, turning to kiss his hand. "Just memories."
She leads him to the shower and they stay there for what could be hours, Elena running her hands along the planes of Stefan's back, planting sloppy kisses all over his body. He picks her up and her legs wind easily around his hips, they fuck slowly, almost too slowly, her heels kneading his ass and his teeth scrapping her skin. It builds and builds in heat and passion until they're both crying, words and names garbled amongst growls and groans, their faces changing so their eyes meet black and tinged with blood.
"I love you," Stefan tells her, his voice muffled as he presses his face against her neck. "I love you."
"I love you," Elena barely manages to get the words out. REally, the words are drowned out by the water, but she knows he heard them.
Hours later, they're sprawled across the bed, legs tangled together, sheets and pillows scattered across the floor. Stefan weaves his fingers through her hair, lazily letting it slide through his fingers as Elena's hands travel across his body, returning to his tattoo time and time again.
"All these years," she murmurs, her voice sleepy and a little hoarse. "You've never told me about this."
"Never been the right moment," Stefan says, his hand resting on the small of her back.
"Someday there will be," Elena tells him, a slow smile crossing her face. "We have time."
She shifts so she's lying on top of him, calmly studying his face for a moment before speaking again. "I have some regrets- the way I was turned. That I was turned so early. But being with you, loving you? I have never regretted that, not for a moment."
Elena leans her forehead against his, and they kiss slowly, a sloppy open kiss that's full of fire and he flips them over, his hand between her legs. Even through the kiss she can feel him smile, the smile seeping into her skin as they begin again.
