It seemed to Elena and Stefan to happen freakishly fast: one moment they were pressed together in a deep kiss, one moment the sun was shining, making the lake all bright and sparkly, almost too brilliant and dazzling to even glance at for a second, and then suddenly the sky was dark with clouds and fat raindrops were splattering all over the place, startling them apart. It was so fast that even though Stefan whisked Elena back to the house they were still partially soaked, water dripping off their clothes and landing in puddles on the floor. Safely back in the house, Elena stared at the now choppy lake, the trees bending in the wind.
"Weird," she shivered, glancing at Stefan. "Guess we, er, really weren't paying attention."
"Guess not," Stefan draped the wet blanket over a chair to dry. "Changing clothes is probably a necessity."
Elena nodded, walking to where Stefan had unceremoniously dropped their bags earlier. Slinging hers over her shoulder, she paused before moving, unsure of which room to go to, which one to officially claim for the weekend. There was her room, of course, but part of Elena really didn't want to go up there, to the room where she hadn't been since Before, the room where she had sat angrily and refused to come down for Family Scrabble Night. That room contained abandoned swimsuits and socks and hair-clips, summer clothing that had never been in style and yet still worn day in and day out because up here she didn't have to care about what she looked like. That room contained millions of memories, from childhood games with stuffed animals and dolls to more grown-up ones, where she and Matt had snuck to that one night only to get caught by her parents trying to have an impromptu romantic getaway.
Her eyes drifted to the closed door by the living room, the door she wasn't sure she could open ever, wasn't sure she wanted to open ever.
Realizing she's just been standing there she shook her head quickly, discovering while she was lost in Memory Lane Stefan had come to stand next to her. He gently touched her back, letting her know that he was there for her in every way possible, watching her closely.
"Um, let's put our stuff upstairs," she said, figuring that the whole room issue might have to be resolved when she's actually looking at the doors. Stefan nodded and kissed her forehead before following her, taking in how she's looking and not-looking at things, the books and photographs and half-remnants of past times that linger in the house, and he wonders again if they should have gone somewhere else.
At the landing upstairs, Elena decided to go with door number five, the second guest room, which she has by far the least amount of memories of. It's the smallest room in the house, not that that's saying much; the room is spacious enough for a double bed, dresser, bookcase, chairs, and has a small bath attached. Stefan caressed her back again, still unsure of what she's thinking, how she's feeling.
"This okay?" she said quietly, brushing wet strands of hair away from her face.
"Definitely," Stefan reassured her. "I think this place is bigger than your actual home."
"We spent a lot of time here," Elena found herself smiling slightly. "Vacations, holidays, random getaways. Every summer we practically moved in for the whole time- except Dad, he commuted back and forth..," she trailed off, remembering one of the times they spent there; it'd been her mom's birthday, and Jeremy had made a cake. Well, attempted, anyways. It was the thought that counted.
Breaking out of her latest reverie, Elena smiled at him and rubbed his hand before turning to change. Yet, to change, she turned away from him; ridiculous, really, considering how many times he's seen her in various states of undress (considering how many times he's seen her naked body- countless times by now, and he probably/definitely knows every inch of her). Right now, though, it feels different somehow. So the sweatpants and t-shirt go on quickly, before she feels like she's deliberately lingering. Surprisingly, she finishes before Stefan does- he's a speed demon when it comes to getting in and out of clothing. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him, her eyes lingering on his chest, and has to muffle the gasp of amazement when she looked at him; even after all this time, it was still so much like their first time together. She would probably always be enthralled by his physical beauty.
Stefan caught her staring and she blushed slightly. "You're beautiful," she said softly, as if to explain herself.
"I'm supposed to be the one telling you that," he replied, settling his hands on her hips. "You are, you know. Beautiful."
Elena closed her eyes and leaned against him. "Sometimes I don't feel like I tell you enough."
"What, about my beautifulness?" he chuckled, and the sound made a happy warmth spread through Elena's body.
"Well, that. But I was talking about how much I love you," she whispered, glancing up at him. Stefan felt that if time froze right at that moment, it would be fine with him, because it would mean that he would be able to look into her eyes forever. He pressed his forehead against her, planted his lips there as well.
"I love you too," he told her, his voice husky and low, making Elena shiver as they kiss.
"Cold?" he asked, concern in his voice. She shrugged and grabbed an Oxford sweatshirt of his that she'd claimed as her own from her bag, put it on. At the rate she was going through his shirts and sweatshirts, he was going to have to get a new wardrobe (and doesn't mind at all).
She tugged on his hand to pull him back downstairs, just as he was going to suggest that they climb into the bed for "warmth". Willingly, he followed her, watching her as they walked though the house, studying how her shoulders tense as they pass the one closed door downstairs. In the living room she seemed to relax, even smiled ruefully at the remains of a Scrabble game and a copy of Macbeth with highlighters sticking out of it. Strangely, she felt calmer now about being here, even with all the memories. Playfully, she gently pushed Stefan to the couch.
"I'll make some tea, you just relax," she ordered, turning to the kitchen, easily remembering where the kettle and mugs were kept. Humming slightly, she pulled some more drawers open just to familiarize herself with the place again before turning back to the what must have been the slowest kettle on the planet.
Suddenly, Stefan's behind her, pressing up against her, his arms locked around her waist. "Stefan," she murmured as he kissed her neck, alternating between light, delicate kisses and lingering, longer ones. His hands snuck beneath the sweatshirt, crept beneath her t-shirt to caress her stomach. "Stefan," she murmured again, her breathing turning ragged and heavy. When she tried to turn so she could kiss him as well, Stefan held onto her hips and held her in place, nipping at her neck as if to scold her. Continuing the loving assault on her neck, one hand slid steadily downwards and soon Elena's gasps overpowered the steadily-humming kettle.
When she gave a final cry, Stefan moved his hands to her shoulders and rubbed them gently. "Sometimes I don't feel like I say it enough either," he whispered, his face partially buried in her hair, "about how much I love you."
The kettle chose that moment to shriek. Stefan deftly made the tea, which Elena accepted with slightly trembling hands. Not that she was in the mood for tea now, but she followed Stefan to the couch, sagging against him while they sat and drank, listening to the soft patter of rain. Her breathing slowly returned to normal, while Stefan had a pleased smile on his face. This only grew as Elena began to run her hand up and down his leg.
"I've missed you," she said quietly, glancing at him. "I've missed us."
Stefan shifted and draped an arm around her, rubbed her shoulder. "I have too."
"When we were apart," Elena chose her words carefully not wanting to use the phrase "break-up". "I couldn't sleep. I've gotten so used to having you besides me..."
"I'm here now," Stefan whispered in her ear and she kissed him deeply, spilling tea on the carpet.
As the storm continued, Elena would up falling asleep curled up on top of Stefan. Lazily, he pulled the blanket thrown over the couch over both of them before closing his own eyes; together, her heartbeat, breathing, and pouring rain create an oddly soothing pattern to listen to.
During their separation, he couldn't sleep either; most of the time he would wind up at the Gilbert house. Late at night he'd sit on the porch, watching and listening, bitter beyond belief that that was all he could do.
"I'm cold," Elena murmured and Stefan raised his head to look at her, kissed her forehead.
"Bedroom, baby?"
"Yeah."
Stefan carried her up to their room, gently got them settled in the bed. Curling around her, he grabbed her hands and squeezed them, earning him a smile and whispered "I love you" from Elena. Hearing that, seeing that, was enough for Stefan.