This is my first fanfic! Please enjoy and comment.

I don't own Vampire Diaries or anything.

I just love it so much it hurts sometimes.

Waking Up

Damon surfaced from sleep with a hand full of tousled hair, and a weight pressing him into his bed. A slender arm wrapped over his chest, its delicate hand loosely clutching the muscled stretch between his shoulder and his neck. He felt each finger on his back. There was no space, no air between the small body pressed against his side and his own. A thin but muscled leg was wrapped tightly around one of his. Soft puffs of warm air steadily caressed the plains of his chest and stomach, making the only sound in his bedroom: the gentle, quiet breaths of sleep. A heavy head lay over his heart.

In the moments before opening his eyes, Damon stayed perfectly still. He recorded each sensation: the sweet, warm scent of her hair, the weight of her head on his chest, the brush of her body with the movement of each breath. He etched each feeling into his memory, pages to turn, one by one, on late nights when he woke up in the darkness alone.

Damon memorized these feelings, and he waited for them to recede back into his dreams, for the weight and the warmth and the scent of Elena Gilbert to once again leave him, tangled alone in his own sheets.

Minutes passed. The cool, unfocused light crept in, making the view from behind his eyelids turn from the darkest gray to a muted orange. The dream that was Elena Gilbert shifted against him, her fingers absently moving to brush the base of his neck, her head nuzzling into his chest. The mirage sighed sleepily.

Damon's eyes snapped open, and he gasped softly, the quickest intake of breath. His free hand, formerly behind his head, reflexively clasped her wrist, his other tangled deeper into her hair. Very slowly, he looked down at the slumbering girl splayed across him. With wide eyes, Damon loosened his grip on Elena's wrist, and ran his fingertips lightly up her hand before circling the bone of her wrist and heading down her arm. Elena made a small, low, whimpering noise and moved her hand to run it through her hair. Her combing fingers soon met with his, and Damon watched, fascinated, as Elena's head bent up in his direction, a smile touching her sleeping face. Her fingers linked with his, and she breathed deeply before opening her eyes blearily.

Damon froze, his ice-blue eyes locked on Elena's half-open brown ones. His lips parted as he stared in wonder down at the girl who was not a mirage. She was not a dream, although he had experienced her in this exact situation over and over in his sleep.

"Cold," Elena mumbled, mid-yawn. One eye closed slowly before the other as she shifted over him, so that the entire length of her body covered his. Her arms wrapped around Damon's neck. Damon stared at her still, his lips slightly pursed, the most incredible feeling of lightness filling his stomach, chest, and throat. Everywhere that Elena touched him he tingled, buzzed. He swallowed audibly, a thunderstruck look spreading across his face.

Damon could not believe he was not dreaming. He had imagined her here, in the morning, with him, uncountable times. He had imagined her sitting up, writing in her journal as he watched. He had imagined her drinking too-hot coffee, her hands wrapped around a mug, propped up against his shoulder. He had imagined her running her hands over his face, through his hair, smiling at him in his teeshirt, laughingly shoving him awake, making love with him in the afternoon.

But never had any of his wistful imaginings come together in such a beautiful cacophony of sensation-pressure, scent, sound, texture, warmth. It was all a bit too much for his senses, and he allowed them to swallow him for a while, allowed himself to drown in not just this awareness, but the swirling emotions within him as well. He lay silently, the girl he loved with unrivaled desperation and dedication slumbering over him.

Damon looked up at his ceiling, seeing nothing. When Elena once again woke up, she would find her usual Damon, the slightest smirk on his lips and in his eyes as he raised his eyebrows and drawled a soft "hello." She would go to move off of him, running her fingers through her tangled hair once again, and he would hold her tightly, capturing her on his chest. He would say something witty or crass or sexy and she would roll her eyes but laugh at him, and he would kiss her as she laughed.

But this time, Damon was going to let himself experience the heedless joy of the fulfillment of one of his most wistful hopes, one of his most imagined fantasies. This time, he was going to revel in the universal pleasure of a sleepy morning with the woman he loves. This time, he will imagine this same feeling every morning, for the rest of his unending lifetime.

Elena shivered once, moved her arms down to grip his sides tightly.

Damon reached both hands down to the thick comforter, and pulled it up to cover Elena's neck. He tucked it around her, noting her sigh of contentment. His hand returned to her hair once more, and closed his eyes once again.