Title: Pillow Talk
Summary: It all starts with a pillow fight…Moments during Damon and Elena's lifetime together. Future one-shot. Very slight spoilers for promos/pics of "The Last Dance."
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.
A/N: When I say very slight spoilers, I mean that if you're extremely anti-spoilery about Delena happenings specifically and you've purposely avoided watching the CW and discussing TVD, you might turn away until you've watched the promo. You've probably encountered it already just by browsing the fics here. Also, in this fic, everyone makes it out of the Klaus showdown alive.
I really have no idea how to describe this other than a "pillow"-related line/event jumpstarted just about all of the scenes in this (Hence, the title). I know, it sounds weird, but this is not a crackfic...at least, it's not intended to be, lol. This probably doesn't make sense, so just think of it as the evolution of the Delena relationship or something. This end product is much different from how I envisioned it, so any feedback on which scenes you liked/disliked would be greatly appreciated :)
Elena is sitting by her windowsill, with her laptop positioned on her knees. She taps her fingers on the keyboard impatiently. Now that the whole Klaus thing was over, she has no more excused absences or leeway for turning in her assignments.
Suddenly, she hears a noise and looks to her window. She sees Damon's figure and he gives her a quick wave before opening the window.
"What are you doing here?" she sighs. Damon throws his leg over her windowsill and gracefully jumps over her legs.
"Thought I'd give you a visit."
"I'm writing a paper, Damon." She continues to stare at her computer, trying to ignore his presence. He shrugs and goes to lie down on her bed. When he doesn't say anything for a while, she decides to see if he can help.
"Do you know anything about William Henry Harrison?"
"He was elected. He spoke a few words and came down with pneumonia. He died."
"Thank you so much." She rolls her eyes and looks back at her computer.
"He was before my time," he says defensively, "What I know about him is probably the same thing you have in your history book." Elena just frowns. She is typing her name at the top of the paper, when he interrupts her.
"I'm bored," he whines.
"Well maybe, you're the boring one."
"I'm the guest. Entertain me," he smirks.
"Go entertain yourself," she mumbles. His smirk grows even wider and she rolls her eyes. "Not here and not like that."
"I'm so booored," he repeats again, a few seconds later.
"How old are you? Like two? Why'd you come here if you just wanted to bother someone? Don't you bother Stefan enough?"
"He's no fun at all. He completely ignores me."
"Hmm…I just might take a page out of his book then." She proceeds to ignore Damon by turning her attention back to her homework, when a pillow smacks her on the side of her head. It falls to the ground with a soft thud.
"Hey!" Elena yelps, turning to face him. "What was that for?"
"Has anyone ever told you that you're cute when you're frustrated?" He tosses another pillow at her.
"Damon!"
"Or mad," he adds, clearly amused, "Your cheeks get all red, and you get these dimples…"
"Go away!"
"Make me," he challenges. She lets out a noise of frustration and glares at him. She picks up one of the pillows from the floor and chucks it at him.
Damon easily catches it in his right hand.
"Stop messing up my room!" she hisses, picking up the second pillow off the floor.
"I could do a lot more damage if I really wanted to mess up your room," he points out, "You just look like you need a break."
"You come in uninvited, and now you're insulting me?"
"No." He shakes his head and puts down the pillow in his hand to his side. He moves towards the edge of the bed and looks her in the eye. "After Klaus and everything…all of us need a break. Come on, Elena. You need to have a little fun. Your head's been buried in books for weeks."
Elena seems to think about this and Damon starts to question his word choice, when she suddenly gets up. She abandons her laptop and slowly moves towards him. He raises an eyebrow, and he almost bowls over in surprise when he feels a pillow hit the side of his head.
"Really?" he chuckles heartily, straightening up.
"My paper was going nowhere anyway," she admits finally, smiling a little. "I might as well take out my frustration on you." She is about foot away from the bed and he looks at her, clearly pleased with his persuasive abilities.
"A pillow fight is your definition of fun?"
"No, but hitting you is," she replies, trying to keep a straight face. She pulls back her arms to hit him with all the aggression she can muster, but he jumps off the bed before she can do so. He looks at her with a glint in his eyes and grins mischievously, before using his vampire speed to grab the other pillow. He swiftly strikes her once with his pillow and runs out the door. Elena curses at him before chasing after him, laughing all the way down the stairs.
She hasn't laughed like that since she danced with him at that '60s dance months ago.
It turns out that a few powerful warlocks aren't so friendly. Especially towards the people who had ended up dismantling the only curse that would have weakened vampires for good.
The fact that warlocks could retaliate from miles away only worsens the situation. Elena realizes now that an Original's power is nothing compared to a bunch of warlocks and witches looking for revenge. Even Bonnie, a relatively young witch, could bring most vampires to their knees in a snap.
She can't save anyone anymore. She doesn't even get the chance to put up a fight this time.
And it is this chilling thought that haunts Elena at night.
Damon stops by her window a few times each week. She never calls him out on it, but she knows it isn't because of her own life or safety. They usually don't talk about much – just updates on Bonnie's perusal of the Grimoire for spells and the like. At this point, Elena doesn't know how she can help anyone, and she thinks that Damon's just here for her company. Actually, she knows it, even if he doesn't admit it.
When Damon is in her room one night, she thinks about all the ways she could save him, Stefan and Caroline. She tells him about the new information that Bonnie has gathered and how positive Stefan is about his current research trip, but she knows it doesn't matter to him. Damon's the kind of person that would fight anyone tooth and nail no matter how much the odds are stacked against him.
This is exactly why she worries about him so much.
"Damon," she whispers. He is about to leave through the window again, but he looks back at her, questioningly.
"I…" she begins, at a loss for words, "It's late." She hasn't planned any of this, but she doesn't take it back. She doesn't say the exact words, but Damon understands her just fine.
She wants him to stay the night.
He simply raises his eyebrow, and she nods her head accordingly, moving slightly to the farther side of the bed.
"Elena…" he sighs, "Don't be scared. You'll get through this. I promise." She nods slowly and bites her lip at his misunderstanding. She wants him to stay because she is scared for him, and she doesn't think he understands that quite yet. She's not sure if she even quite understands it yet.
Her eyes meet his and her next words come out with ease and with clarity, unlike the first attempt.
"Will you stay with me?" He pauses for a second.
She knows that making him stay won't change anything about the warlock situation and that having him next to her won't deter the warlocks much anyway. She knows that there are countless reasons why this was wrong and so many ill-advised reasons why this was right.
"Please, Damon?" she asks hoarsely. But the only reason that she thinks of when his name escapes her lips is the way he looks at her when he climbs up her window and sees her there.
The relief on his face, the ever-present smirk, the instant warmth that fills the room…
"This is only because Stefan's out of town," he says cautiously, getting up and moving towards the other side of her bed.
"I know," she replies. But it's obviously that she doesn't really know and that this isn't about Stefan. It's never about him.
She lifts her blanket to accommodate him but he stops her. He lies on top of it before she can object, and he turns his head away from her as he lies down. But his decision to keep her at an arms-length distance is futile.
She shifts her body towards him and uses his shoulder as a pillow that night anyway.
She tells herself that it is because of her overwhelming need to protect him and never let go. She won't admit to herself that she just wants to be close to him. Not tonight.
"Oh my gosh! You're just like Stefan!"
"What did you just say?" His eyes narrow instantly, and he pins her down on his bed, on top of her in a flash.
She just giggles uncontrollably, and stretches her arms out again, but Damon quickly avoids them.
"You're ticklish!"
"Sorry, I don't do ticklish."
"Yes you do!" Elena exclaims, trying to attack him with her fingers again.
"You better stop," he warns, starting to chuckle involuntarily, as her fingers make their way to the sides of his stomach.
"Or what?"
"Or this." He grins and turns the tables on her, grabbing her hands, and tickling her from head to toe.
"Damon!" she laughs.
"I'm not Stefan."
"Stop it!" she continues, scrambling across his bed to get away.
"Say it. I'm not Stefan," he demands, tickling her feet now.
"Ugh. You know I'm extremely ticklish there, Damon!"
"What was that? I can't hear you…"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Elena giggles, "You're not like Stefan at all."
"Damn straight," he snarls. He's still on top of her, but he's not tickling her anymore. Damon grins triumphantly when Elena absently presses her hand against his chest and lifts her body up to kiss him. Her lips part and he takes it as an invitation. He darts his tongue in and begins to move it in tandem with hers. She's about to pull away for air but he bites her bottom lip teasingly and sucks on it before she can react.
"Yep, you're definitely not Stefan," she says breathlessly as they come up from the heated kiss.
He grabs her by the waist and pushes her back onto the bed, which earns him a high-pitched squeal.
Her head falls back onto the pillows, as he rains kisses down her neck.
"When I'm done, you'll regret ever speaking his name in my bed."
"Today has been perfect," Elena whispers, as the snow continues to fall. The fireworks have ended, but they are still staring upwards, watching the stars light up the black sky.
"Has it been?" Damon asks, his breath right against her ear. They are standing alone on the bridge, and Damon's arms are wrapped around Elena from behind. He's swaying her body from side to side, even though there's no music.
"Yes. The snow, the horse-drawn carriage, the dinner, the fireworks…you." She closes her eyes and snuggles against him, inhaling the scent of fresh snow and Damon's jacket.
"Good," he says simply. He pulls away from her, and she turns around in confusion. She sees him down on one knee staring up at her with a grin – yes, a real grin, not a smirk – from ear to ear.
He opens the box and she gasps when she sees the ring inside. On top of a small purple pillow is a band of silver, adorned with a cluster of diamonds in the middle. She knows immediately that it is his mother's ring.
"Elena-" But before he can even say anything, she envelops him in a hug and kisses him like it's their last (or first) time.
"So yes?" he laughs, when he pulls away, out of breath. She just grins widely and kisses him again.
They marry only a month later in front of a handful of family members and friends. She is so excited and impatient that yes is all she can say during the ceremony.
(And that night).
The two of them are standing side by side near the edge of the bed, peering at the girl in front of them.
"Can I get a new bed?" the little girl asks.
"Why?" Elena tilts her head, tucking her in. Allie is 4 years old now. Vampires can't procreate, but that doesn't mean they can't adopt.
"Ralphie said that monsters try to eat you if you have a pink bed."
"Is that so?" Damon smirks. Allie nods anxiously, pulling the covers closer to her tiny chest. Damon kneels down to the floor and pretends to extensively search under the bed.
When Elena told Damon she wanted to have a baby, they immediately look for a surrogate and he buys out every store within a five-mile radius. She's never seen him so excited, and it's the first time that she thinks Damon Salvatore is ridiculously cute when he holds up a pair of yellow and pink booties to compare them.
"Well Ralphie must be wrong. There are no monsters here," Damon reassures, getting up.
"Are you sure?" she says in that tiny voice of hers. Damon opens her closet door and pretends to look high and low, before turning back to his little girl.
"Positive," he says, nodding his head.
"Okay," she accepts, "Can we read a story tonight?"
Damon and Elena look to each other and nod their heads simultaneously as if they have already made up their minds.
"Of course Daddy will read with you," Elena says, as Damon takes a book off the shelf and slides next to his daughter. Elena goes to kiss the top of Allie's head, while he goes to lean back on the plushy, pink pillows.
"Now, where were we before you dozed off," Damon asks, opening the book, Guess How Much I Love You.
"Right here!" she exclaims, pointing at a picture.
"Do you want to start this time kiddo?"
"Yeah! Let me!"
Elena grins at them and heads to the door. "Sweet dreams," Elena says softly as she sees her daughter get out from under the covers. Elena gently closes the door behind her.
"I love you as high as I can reach." Elena hears the giggles that erupt out of her daughter's mouth, and she smiles. She can almost see Allie physically trying to stretch her hands up to the ceiling.
"I love you as high as I can reach," Damon's replies, his voice booming. She hears another fit of laughter, but it's coming from both father and daughter. She almost laughs out loud at the image forming in her head. He's probably reaching towards the ceiling as well.
"And here's the last of it," Damon starts, taking out a couple of new, bright blue pillows. He causally dumps them onto the bed and Elena goes to fix them.
"New stuff for a new you," Elena says happily, "There. Everything's perfect." She fluffs up the pillows one last time, before turning to her daughter.
"I'm proud of you," she smiles, tears welling in her eyes.
"For what? For moving into a dorm with the help of two people, one of which has supernatural speed and strength?"
"No, silly. For starting a new chapter of your life, for becoming a woman. You're finally going to experience life without us two guiding you."
"Wow, could you be any cheesier or more sentimental?" Damon mocks. Both women give him a look.
"Don't worry. You two taught me well…or at least, one of you did," Allie teases her father.
"Ha ha. You're just a barrel of laughs, aren't you?"
"I must've gotten that from you, daddy," she says sweetly.
"And don't you forget it." He taps her nose, as if she were still a child.
"We should get going or else we won't beat the rush hour traffic. You'll call us?" Elena interrupts, looking at her watch. Allie nods her head.
"Have fun at college." Elena goes to hug Allie, and Damon gives his daughter a kiss on the forehead.
"I know I did," Damon adds to his wife's comment, reminiscing fondly, as they're halfway out the door. Elena slaps him on the arm.
"You didn't even go!" Elena berates.
"I never said I did. I just said that I've had plenty of fun at a college," Damon says indignantly.
"Thanks, mom. I will," Allie calls out, interrupting their exchange. She waves them goodbye one last time, before shutting the door.
"She'll be okay, right?" Elena asks Damon, as soon as they're in the car.
"Of course. She was raised by the best parents in the world," he boasts as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Elena shakes her head and thinks he's still exactly like the vampire she met almost thirty years ago. There's a brief pause.
"She'll be fine, Elena." His gentle, reassuring words come out softly, and he affectionately grabs her hand before she can say anything else. He holds her hand in his lap the rest of the way home. So maybe he wasn't exactly like the vampire he was when they first met.
But she wouldn't have him any other way.
Her skin starts to lose the firmness it once had. Now suddenly, every night at 10, she's putting on night cream on her face.
"What are you doing?" Damon asks one night, as she's coming out of the bathroom, rubbing the remaining traces of cream on her face. He's laying on the bed already and his elbow props his head up to look at her.
"I'm getting old," she says bluntly.
"Elena, I'm turning 180 this year, and you're calling yourself old?"
"You know what I mean," she sighs, lifting the covers and settling into the bed next to him. "I don't look like eighteen anymore. Hell, I can't even pass for forty anymore."
"So what?"
"People are starting to confuse us as a mother-son duo."
"I don't care. Are you saying that you do? I thought we had this conversation already. You said you didn't want to be a vampire, to have that kind of life."
"I know I did," Elena nods slowly. She doesn't continue, and Damon's left to wonder what she's actually saying.
"Are-are you having second thoughts?" he stutters out, slightly bewildered.
"No."
"Okay," he accepts, a little relieved.
"Sorry," she says sheepishly, "I wasn't trying to stir up that conversation again…I was just saying that I'm old." She laughs to no one in particular.
"Well, I'm much older than you. Age is just a number."
"That's easy for you to say," she mumbles. He traces a finger along her jawline and lifts her face to his in response. He kisses her lips gently.
"Cream or no cream, vampire or no vampire, you're always going to be beautiful to me," he says softly.
"Thank you. It means a lot to me." She feels tears welling in her eyes, and Damon can't help but look at her oddly.
"Self-esteem issues, laughing and now crying? This isn't one of those menopausal things, is it? I thought we passed that a few years ago…" he jokes.
"Damon!" She playfully tries to suffocate him with her pillow. He can't die from it anyway.
"Oh, Mr. Salvatore! Your grandmother actually ate dinner today. She's very alert today. You can go see her right now."
Damon nods silently at the care specialist, and knocks on Elena's door. He sees her sitting upright, with a TV remote in her hand.
"They all assumed that you were my grandson the first time…with the same last name and all. I never bothered to correct them," she explains. Her voice is raspier and softer, but today, it's still as lively as it was almost forty years ago.
"Let them think that," he grins, kissing her lightly on the lips. The chemo has taken its toll on her small frame, and she's getting thinner each day. Her stick-like figure is so fragile now that she hardly gets out of bed unless she absolutely has to do something. Her lack of appetite and inability to hold any solid food down is adding to her wasting away.
"I told Allie that she's a mother of three boys now," she quips. When the cancer cells from her breast spread to the rest of her body, chemo becomes ineffective, and when the doctor tells her that the cancer had progressed to stage IV and there's not much she or anyone can do about it, she's devastated at the news.
"You're in a good mood. Have they visited you yet?" he asks, taking a seat on the nice sofa next to her bed. He leans forward with his hands folded in front of him, as she listens to her.
"Yesterday night after you left. Max gave me flowers and Andrew made me a card. It's on the table." It has been a rollercoaster since then – not knowing what the next day would bring, or even if there would be a next day. The hormone therapy she's using now is just to ease the family's mind; she has been resigned to her fate for months now.
Damon goes to look at the card and laughs at it, "Well I can assure you that Andy won't be an artist when he grows up."
"Damon!"
There's a long pause and they stare at each other. She's the first one to break it.
"I've missed this," she says quietly.
"What?"
"Everything about you…Damon, I want to go home."
"What do you mean? Mystic Falls?"
"No. Just back to our house. I don't like this place anymore." She stares at the blanket sadly.
"Why not?" he demands, "Is it that nurse with the pink glasses? 'Cause I swear-"
"No, Damon," she says, immediately calming him down and turning to look at him. "I just don't want to be here. I know this sounds stupid, but it's not home. It doesn't feel right."
Damon softens immediately and gets up to sit down on the bed next to Elena. He takes her hand and gently rubs circles on them. He doesn't notice how cold and wrinkly they are, because to him, all he can see are Elena's still vibrant eyes and all he can feel is the warmth in her heart.
"You don't like this place? It's only been a few days."
"It's lonely," she admits, "When I thought I was on my deathbed all those years ago, battling vampires and werewolves and warlocks, you were always right there by my side. I don't need all of these billion-dollar medical facilities or experienced caretakers looking after me."
"They have the best people here looking after you."
"I only want you looking after me."
"Well, when you put it that way…" She nudges him a little.
"I'm serious, Damon. I want to die at home. Not in a bed that constantly smells like latex and antibacterial lotion."
"Okay," he starts slowly, "I'll try to get some discharge papers and we'll work something out with all the medical equipment."
"Damon," she says suddenly.
"Yes?"
"I want you to pull the plug."
"What are you talking about?"
"When it's time…I want to go peacefully and I want you to be the one to do it."
"Let's talk about this later," Damon waves off, ignoring her.
"Damon," she says sternly, squeezing his hands as hard as her joints would allow her. "I don't want to be completely pathetic when I go."
"We don't know what will happen." He shakes his head vigorously.
"You know the cancer has spread to my lungs and spine already, and soon it'll be my liver, my brain…I can't do it," she says defeated. Her eyes begin to well up. She's not crying at the thought of dying so terribly. She's crying at the thought of being taken away from Damon so cruelly.
"You can. People have lived for years after a stage IV diagnosis." He squeezes her hands gently in return. He won't let her admit defeat. He won't.
"People have also lived for hours after a diagnosis." She bites her lip and the deep lines on her face fill up with the tears raining down from her eyes.
He's quiet for a minute. It's hitting him hard – the fact that Elena will die and he'll be alone for the rest of his undead life.
"Damon, if I ask you to, will you do it?"
He's still silent.
"Damon?"
"Elena," he sighs heavily. "I-I don't know…You can be in pain one day and fine the next."
"I promise I'll only ask you if I've fully thought it through. I don't want to be in pain for weeks. I'm going to die in the next few months. I might as well do it with dignity."
"You're giving up," he says roughly, pulling his hands away from her.
"I'm not. I'm giving in." He wants to tell her it's the same damn thing but he knows that she's too stubborn.
"I've lived a good life, Damon."
"You could live a longer one," he murmurs, looking down at the floor.
"Damon…" she sighs, starting to understand.
"Elena…" He starts to choke on his own words, and he's never felt so powerless before. "I don't know if I can," he says, barely above a whisper. She doesn't respond immediately, as she tries to figure out what to say to him. She reaches for his chest and places her frail hand over his unbeating heart.
"Damon, you need to let go of me," she breathes.
He looks away from her, but she presses her hand against him with all of her might until he gives in and turns his face back to her.
"You need to let go," she says, her voice coming out as steady as she can manage.
"Please, Damon. Promise me you will." Tears are streaming down her face now.
He doesn't promise her, and he puts on a mask she hasn't seen in nearly thirty-some years.
"I don't understand why you want to give up like this," he admits instead, running a hand through his hair. "But I respect your decision. I'll pull the plug when you're ready."
"Thank you," she whispers.
"Stay with me here for a while?" she murmurs.
He simply nods and presses his cheek to hers, as her tears continue to splatter softly onto the pillow.
"Damon," Elena starts, barely audible if it weren't for his vampire hearing. Damon shuts his book, but he doesn't look at her yet. He knows what she's about to say, and he needs to prepare himself for it. If that's at all possible.
"I think it's time," she says seriously, not bothering to wait for Damon's response.
Damon nods despondently, and goes over to the IV machine. Her numbers are stable, but she's been telling him for the past week how unbearable it was just to shut her eyelids. He tightly grips the plug to the IV machine and finally glances at her. Her eyes are bloodshot from the lack of sleep and she is staring at the ceiling.
"Say goodbye to everyone for me," she says.
Damon nods silently and tries to maneuver the IV machine closer to the bed so he can lie down next to her.
"You know about all the legal stuff…it's in my drawer downstairs," she begins. "Tell Allie not to worry about the funeral costs…I left some money aside for it. Watch Max and Andy grow up for me. Take care of them."
"Okay."
"Please visit Bonnie and Jeremy for me…and if Caroline and Tyler ever stop their adventures, give them a call…Oh and wish Stefan and Kat a happy anniversary next week for me."
"If I can figure out where Kat has whisked him away this time," he mutters.
"Probably somewhere in the tropics. Kat always loved the beach," Elena smiles weakly.
"Anything else?"
"Damon, I want to say something to you," she starts. She tries to turn her body to him, but she winces in pain.
"Elena, don't," Damon pleads.
"It's okay, Damon. I can do it," she assures him, "This will be the last time anyway." Damon just nods unsurely, as he tries to help her to her side to look at him.
"Damon, I need you to promise me that you'll move on."
He stares at her blankly.
"I chose my fate a long time ago, and you continue to choose yours every day," she continues. He thinks about these words and realizes that she's right. He had never wanted to die before Elena came along, and ever since Elena, he's never wanted to live so much.
"Maybe you'll find someone, maybe you won't –" Elena says.
"I won't," Damon stops her, confidently.
"But you need to promise me that you won't wallow in my absence. Because that's not you, and I would be very disheartened to learn that I became your downfall." Her wrinkles tighten up a bit and she adds lightheartedly, "And don't you dare do anything stupid."
He actually smiles at that despite the gravity of the circumstances. Leave it to Elena Gilbert to mock him on her deathbed.
"I will think about you every day," he tells her.
"Well, I guess that's not too stupid," she replies thoughtfully. There's a long, comfortable silence, as they take in each other's presence. These are their last words, their last touches, their last moments together.
"Damon, thank you."
"For what?"
"For loving me unconditionally, for always being the man I wanted and the man I needed even if I didn't know it…For giving me the best life anyone could ask for." Her voice trails off at those parting words, and he can feel the finality of it all.
She gently touches his still youthful, perfect face, and whispers a final goodbye.
"I love you," she breathes.
Her eyes close softly and the pillows soak up all the wetness, but it is Damon's tears this last time.
"I love you, too."
He presses his lips to hers one last time. He sees her smile, and he knows it's time.
He quickly pulls the plug.
But he doesn't leaves her.
He never will.
A/N2: Hopefully, that made sense…and hopefully the Delena near the end did not feel as weird as I felt writing it. Thanks for reading, and reviews are always appreciated!