A/N: I've rated this story T, for now. The rating may change to M though, depending on whether or not people would like a little Delena lovin'. I would like Damon to myself, but I'm willing to share with Elena. If she asks nicely. Maybe.
PS, this story is not only Damon/Elena, it's more of a Damon/Elena/Stefan love triangle, as Stefan will most definitely fight for her tooth and nail. It will end with DE though, so don't worry! Please review :) this is my first story so I'm a bit nervous. Hope you all enjoy!
Elena lay in Stefan's bed at the boarding house, engulfed in the thick comforter and her boyfriend's arms. She stared at a sleeping Stefan's chiseled features and smiled softly, ghosting a kiss over his slightly open lips. She found his deep breathing calming, and she could hear his heartbeat when she snuggled in closer to him. Maybe she could rest for even just a little bit longer, she decided. The familiar noises around her lulled Elena into a relaxed state, and her breathing began to slow.
She felt good in this moment, despite having found her uncle – no, father; she had to keep reminding herself of that – dead on her kitchen floor, gruesomely stabbed in the gut, his fingers hanging by a thread of skin onto his mutilated hand. Elena shuddered at the memory. Katherine. That bitch had done more than enough damage, she decided. On top of that, they'd found Jeremy not breathing, bottle of pills in hand. It had been diagnosed immediately as an overdose. He had been able to get his stomach pumped, but had been moody since he woke, yelling at the nurses and refusing to eat. Jenna too was wrecked, and wouldn't speak with anyone. Elena felt like she'd been at the hospital all night, sobbing next to her silent aunt. As everything flooded back to her, she wished she could sleep forever. All of a sudden a creak in the hallway could be heard, and she froze. Damn, she was paranoid lately. Not that anyone could blame her, she'd been through so much over the past few days.
With adrenaline pumping through her system at the slightest sound, she knew falling back asleep would be hopeless. Elena sat up, running a hand through her mussed hair. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, grimacing. She looked like hell too: dark bags resided under her tired eyes, her skin was blotchy and her eyes were red from all the crying she seemed to be doing. To say she was on edge was the understatement of the year.
"Well, lookie who's up," a familiar voice drawled from the doorway. Elena whipped her head to glance at the speaker, her heart beating out of her chest. Oh god, it was just Damon. She exhaled loudly and dropped her head into her hands.
"Get a grip Elena, get a grip, get a grip, get a grip," she muttered under her breath. Damon was by her side in a second, his cool hands feeling like heaven as they danced against the sweaty skin on her face.
"Hey, hey. What's up?" he turned her towards him, looking deep into her eyes as if doing that would allow him to read her mind. She sighed loudly, pushing him away from her, slightly embarrassed at him seeing her face so bare of makeup.
"Oh, I don't know Damon. It's not like I just saw my father after he was brutally murdered by your vampire ex-girlfriend, or found my brother practically dead after he attempted to commit suicide. I'm just fucking peachy," she spat, agitated. Damon looked torn between being taken aback, or just smirking at her. After his initial shock he settled on the latter.
"Elena Gilbert, Curser Extraordinaire," he waggled his finger at her, his voice jokingly reprimanding. "Naughty, naughty – I like it." She cracked a smile at him then, feeling the slightest bit of her lost sanity return to her.
"Felt kinda good to get it off my chest," Elena admitted, still smiling slightly.
"I know something else that would feel really good to get off your chest," he purred into her ear, blatantly staring at her chest. She pushed at his chest, caught between laughing and blushing. Her laughter overtook her, and soon she was practically hysterical. He watched her in amusement. "Someone did not sleep much last night," he quipped. Then she quieted down, and looked at him. Really looked at him.
"Thanks," she said quietly, although her voice still seemed to fill the room. He looked bewildered.
"What'd I do?" his forehead creased with confusion. Elena blushed deeper, having thought he was trying to get her mind off of everything that had taken place over the past couple days. Of course she was wrong, he didn't do that. Ever. Except he did, she realized. He did it for her. All the time.
"Nevermind," she said quickly, flashing him a quick smile as jumbled thoughts flew through her mind. He squinted at her, still confused, but then realization washed over his handsome face.
"I make you feel better, don't I?" he leaned in close to her face and smiled widely, blue eyes flashing. "I make you forget. I make you haaappy." She returned his smile, face hurting from all the laughter.
"Maybe," she shrugged nonchalantly. "But I'll be damned if I tell you that."
"Oh no?" he smirked at Elena, about to continue teasing her.
"Mmrgh," Stefan rolled over. "Elena." He grasped around for her wildly, and popped one eye open when he didn't feel her near. She barely had time to register the mischievious smile on his face when his hands were on her ribs and she was squealing for mercy.
"Ste-fan!" She giggled, writhing around on the bed, feet kicking in every which direction. "Stoppit, please." Elena gasped for air, laughing harder than she ever had before. Stefan pulled her close to his body then, laughing into her hair. Damon turned his head away from the couple, a frown overtaking his features. He still hated the thought of Stefan's hands on her. Ever since Damon had kissed Elena – Katherine, damnit, it was Katherine. It was always Katherine – he hadn't been able to justify his feelings for her as friendship. For the first time in 145 years of death and destruction and not feeling anything, the unfamiliar strains of love in his chest couldn't be mistaken as anything else.
Suddenly Stefan noticed Damon sitting on the bed as well, and he tensed visibly. Elena's laughter ceased, and she blew stray strands of hair out of her face. "What are you doing here?" he asked his brother suspiciously. Ever since Isobel had given away that valuable tidbit of information ("Because he's in lovewith you," she had said), Stefan hadn't been as trusting of the elder Salvatore.
"Chillz, bro. I was just leaving," he stood up and sauntered into the dark hallway, and away from any sight that had the potential to make him even more nauseous than he already felt. It was definitely time for a drink. Preferably something with a high percentage of alcohol content. As he walked down the winding staircase into the kitchen, he could hear Elena speaking to Stefan, her tone harsh.
"Is it really that hard for you to be nice to your brother?" she whispered angrily. Damon smirked, she was trying to stick up for him – cute.
"He's an asshole, Elena," Stefan sighed. "You know it's true."
"I don't care if he's an asshole or not, Stef. He's your brother."
"Siblings are overrated," he joked, trying to lighten the mood, but Elena wouldn't have it.
"Well you're stuck with him, can't you at least try to get along? I don't understand you two," she sent a dirty look in his direction.
"Alright, why are you so concerned about this?" Anger (or was it jealousy?) crept into Stefan's voice now. "You're always oh-so-worried about Damon. I don't understand it."
"So now I'm not allowed to care about him?" Elena jerked away from Stefan and stood up, hands on her hips.
"Sometimes it's just a little complicating to figure out who you're actually dating, that's all," he sighed, hating to fight with her.
"We're friends, Stefan. I don't feel for him that way. You need to get over this, now."
"I just don't want you around him, Elena." Stefan frowned, continuing. "He's not a good influence, you've seen what he can do. You need to realize that he's not going to change; he's the same as he always was. As conniving as he always was, as violent as he always was-" he ticked Damon's numerous qualities off on his fingers.
"So you're saying people aren't capable of change?" Elena's voice rose, shaking with anger. "May I remind you that you're practically the one who turned him, and look at you now. You changed, Stefan. What makes you think Damon can't either? And are you really so insecure about our relationship that-"
"Enough, Elena!" Stefan yelled, grabbing her shoulders and shaking them a bit. Fear entered her eyes for a brief moment, and he quickly removed his hands from her, but the damage was done.
"And who's the asshole now?" Elena maintained her strong facade, tilting her chin up and staring him down. He was out the door so fast, she barely realized he was gone. And only then did she allow herself to sink to the floor, hands touching the places he had grabbed her moments before.
"I'm going out to feed," Stefan scowled, storming into the living room. He pulled his leather jacket over his broad, defined shoulders, making his way towards the front door.
"And the brooding forehead returns," Damon drawled, tipping his almost-empty bottle of scotch in his brother's direction, before allowing the smooth, amber liquid to slide down his throat.
"Shut up, Damon," he glared at his older brother. Damon stuck his lower lip out.
"Aw, did Elena hurt my wittle brother's feelings by pleading my case? Suck it up, man. She loves me more," he winked. Stefan was at his throat in a second.
"Fuck you," he grunted, his face vamping out.
"Now, now, is this really the approach you're going for?" he smirked, tilting his head. In half a second Stefan was flying across the room, crashing into a mirrored armoire. Shards of the reflective glass flew in every direction, cutting into the youngest Salvatore. "You just never learn, do you," he growled. "And would you look at that? Seven more years of misery."
Elena heard the crash from the bedroom, and darted downstairs. Running into the room, she skidded straight into Damon, who was glaring at his younger brother. She glanced wildly around the parlor, her eyes locking in on Stefan, who was struggling to sit upright. Her worry overtook her anger, and she practically flew to his side, pulling pieces of mirror out of the wounds covering his body.
"What the hell Damon?" Elena turned towards him, her face a mixture between disappointment and anger. Mostly anger, he decided, as the glare she had fixed upon him could kill. "I know you could hear us up there. Way to prove me wrong."
"I told you," Stefan winced as Elena pulled out piece after piece. "He's an asshole."
"Yep, that's me." Damon rolled his eyes, fangs receding back into his gums. "Always the ass-" A knock interrupted him mid-sentence, and everyone stilled. "Oh, don't worry, I'll get it," he said sarcastically when neither of them made a move to do so. As soon as he opened the thick, wooden door, Alaric rushed in, completely out of breath.
"We have a big problem. A big problem. One could even say a huge problem," he breathed out, hands on his knees. Damon's eyes glinted with curiosity, and even Stefan's face didn't show a trace of animosity as he stood up, pulling the final shards out of his palm.
"Spill," Damon nodded at the history teacher, face serious now. He was sure that whatever Alaric was going on about probably wasn't something he actually wanted to hear. The "big problem" part ensured that.
"Jeremy died," Alaric breathed out. Elena's face immediately lost all color, and she stared at him in shock before bursting into strangled sobs. Damon and Stefan sped to either side of her, attempting to comfort the distraught girl. They glared at each other over Elena's head, and Alaric would have been amused if the next seven words out of his mouth weren't "and then he came back to life."
Elena promptly passed out, with a sickening thud as she hit the floor.