*taps microphone* Ahem. I got a message a week ago when I posted RWY about the one-shot that was supposed to have been posted a while back. Here is a thank you to every single one of you who has supported me and reviewed and just read my stories. I don't respond to every single one (though I try) but please do know that your comments do not go unheard and I love you all so much for them. -you can skip this part- I just want to give a personal thank you to Lindsay, Cara, and Jane for hopping on my ass about reviewing and such and also Angie for being just a really great friend and shit. -end great speech-

After tons and tons of editing and tweaking(not really), this is my Christmas gift to you that I hope you enjoy.

For four years I have been the lucky bastard who can say that I've seen Elena Gilbert naked.

By naked, I don't mean without clothing, (yes, that too) I mean that I have seen her bare in all senses of the word. I've seen her eat without shutting her little mouth. I've seen her watch hours of Supernatural with zero make-up and a bucket of ice cream. I've seen her cry over the animal abuse commercials, claiming that Sarah Mclachlan is a rotten whore. I've seen her with absolutely nothing shaved, withering on our bed about how cold it is and blowing her crimson nose on an overused tissue. I've seen her as a grumbling psycho drunk, smashing everything in the way like the female hulk. I've also seen her the next day, clobbering over the toilet, whimpering.

I've been there to hold her hand and be a crying shoulder and buy the tampons and the ice cream and hold her hair so she doesn't get "disgusting puke" on it.

Through everything I've learned and witnessed about this woman I still love have her as if she hung the moon and I know that counts for something. Who was once considered the most shallow person in the world to me had quickly became the person I adored the most.

I know I have to marry her.

What I don't know, however, is how.

I gently roll the velvet box around in my hand anxiously in my coat pocket as I sit down at the table. Stella and Joes was your typical town diner with specials and advertisement leaking from the cracks in the walls.

It wasn't specifically my ideal place, but Bonnie, Elena's best friend and spokesperson, adores it.

"How can you not love this place? It's so quaint," she spoke as she saw me eying the place in disgust. I shrug and sigh before I yank the box out my hand and drop it on the table like it's on fire.

Bonnie eyes it warily for a moment before a fake shy smile graces her face. "Wow, Stefan, this is so unexpected..."

I roll my eyes at her and shake my head, "I'm being so serious right now. This is a problem."

She nods and then tilts her head quickly, "For you." She gave a snide grin at her jab she was sure was going to hit home.

Before Elena and I met, my experiences with the opposite sex were very few and far between. It wasn't as if I wasn't good looking. In fact, not to sound like an arrogant prick, women had basically tied up their vagina's, stuck them in boxes with bows on top, and handed them to me.

That isn't a mentally appealing picture.

The problem was, I didn't know what to do when I actually got it. You know?

Not like...I couldn't...please them. I just didn't even know how to appropriately say, "Okay, I'll take the pussy."

I just can't speak when I'm confronted with a pretty girl. Unless we're talking about medicine, I have absolutely no insight as to what to say.

I was sixteen when I lost my virginity. I know what you may be thinking. Sixteen is a very rounded number, you know? Everyone loses their virginity at sixteen. If you're reading a story, either the person lost it at sixteen or is about to lose it at sixteen. Sixteen and pregnant. Sixteen candles. Sixteen.

That was all running through my head at sixteen years old.

So on my sixteenth birthday, I ordered, via my older brother Damon, a girl from my school who probably did it sixteen times with sixteen guys or...I'm not really actually sure of the significance.

Her name was Amy and she smelled really good and that's basically all I remember.

I didn't say a word to her while it happened, during, or after the event. I don't know if she got off or what but the impersonal attitude toward it all made me want to flip out my wallet and throw a twenty at her.

That was that.

I was no longer a virgin.

I still couldn't talk to a girl so the whole situation was pointless to me, but that's life.

"I can speak fine now, Bonnie. I'm just nervous."

"Exactly," she said while examining her cuticles, "It's a problem for you. I don't know why you're nervous; she is crazy about you."

A waiter appears by our table and hands us both menus.

"I'll just have a coffee black, please."

"I'll take the pancake special."

He nods and bolts off with a smile looking at the velvet box with a knowing grin. I watch it myself, shaking my head.

"How do I...do it?"

Bonnie thinks for a moment before she leans forward and tilts her head to the left. "You could Google it. I mean, I wouldn't really know how to help you, Stefan. I haven't been proposed to before."

Even though she was being extremely nice and helpful by just being here, I could hear a bit of envy in her voice, rightfully so. Bonnie and Damon had been dating for five years and the matter of marriage wasn't even brought up once.

My gaze softens and I nudge her hand, "Maybe you should propose to him."

She cracks a smile and looks down at the box longingly. "Nah, not my style."

I'd have to tell him to ball up before he lets someone as great as Bonnie get away.

The waiter brings back our things and Bonnie delves into her pancakes with a grin. "Stop watching me eat, Salvatore." I ignore her protests and continue staring the information out of her.

She ponders while she eats, chewing thoughtfully and long before wiping her face and facing me. "You could put the ring in a cupcake."

"Elena would eat it too fast. She'd choke."

Bonnie snorts and chuckles before nodding in agreement. "Probably." I sit there sipping my coffee before I let out a sigh.

"You're right," I say. She quickly turns up from her pancakes to peer at me. "I should probably just Google this." She takes one last bite of the pancake and rubs her stomach.

"Don't make it cheesy."

"I'll keep that it in mind."

It's been 3 days since I spoke with Bonnie and I've looked online everywhere.

Everything surpassed cheesy and was moving quickly on to, 'who even comes up with this shit?' Everything I'd considered saying and doing wouldn't actually hold a candle to what I wanted to do.

Elena and I had always talked about marriage. It wasn't a matter of if, but a matter of when. I knew she dreamt of a nice wedding with an amazing proposal and I always shrugged it off as being ridiculous to worry about because it wasn't happening right then.

But here I am, about to propose, and I only wish that I'd listened to her then to have even a glimpse into what she wants.

I avoided the topic with Damon altogether. I figured he was in the same boat as Bonnie, inexperienced and mostly uninterested with anything that had to do with anything other than the wedding itself (that Bonnie has already been planning, mind you).

"Why are you up?" A groggy voice complains from beside me. I flip onto my side and gaze down at Elena, brushing a strand of hair behind her sleep.

"Mind your own business," I tease, "go back to sleep."

She smiles a little bit and plants a kiss on my bare bicep. I relax almost instantaneously to her touch, letting her snuggle herself closer to me.

"You look worried," she comments, placing her fingers on my face. I close my eyes and hold her tighter.

"I'm not."

"You look like it, though."

"Do not."

"You look like you did the first time you ever talked to me." She lets out a tiny giggle at that and I chuckle, stroking her arm in tiny, abstract, shapes. I shake my head a little bit as she continues giggling.

"You were so cute, Stefan." I nearly almost maybe blush, before starting to nuzzle her neck.

"I remember you were so scared but you were so angry because of earlier that day. You kept asking me why and I had no idea what you were talking about but then you said I was pretty and you asked me if I wanted to go watch a movie with you."

"You said no," I remind her before continuing my ministrations on her neck. She sighs before she looks me straight in the eyes.

"You were being a dick about it."

"I was angry."

"You can't angrily ask a girl out, Stefan. It doesn't work that way."

"No one sent me an email about that."

She laughs and curls into my side before she pauses. "The second time I asked you out," she recalls softly.

I snorted. "Well my ego couldn't exactly take the blow of your first hit. I don't think he was willing to stick around for another rejection."

She kept the same serious face and turned to me. "I remember when you said no to me, I was heartbroken."

"Because no one has ever said no to you?"

"No, because you said no to me. All I could think about was how I royally fucked up the first genuinely nice guy who asked me out."

We let the silence overcome us for a while before she snorts softly.

"Even though, if I hadn't saw you sticking up for Matt earlier that day, I wouldn't have known that. You were so mean to me..." she trails off sleepily.

I hum in agreement and look down at her eyes. They slowly begin to droop, her lips part and close once more before I can hear her steady breathing knowing she'd finally gone to sleep.

That was when I was struck with pure genius.

"Stefan, you're pacing."

"And you aren't painting."

Damon lets out an exasperated sigh and drops his paint brush to the ground with a thump. He slowly wades his way through the mess on the floor before reaching me and smacking my shoulder.

"I can't believe you're doing this," he tells me, shaking his head in disgust.

"Proposing?"

"Yeah, isn't it a bit soon?"

"No?"

He shrugs and casually picks up a bucket of orange paint before walking over to his wall. I study him for a moment before attempting to be nonchalant at untangling a strand of lights.

"So...I guess you aren't planning to propose to Bonnie any time soon?" He froze and slowly turns his body to face me. He clears his throat bu his voice wavers.

"What, did Bonnie put you up to this?"

"No, why would she?"

"I don't need a fucking piece of paper to determine whether or not I'm in love with my girlfriend," he deadpanned. He slammed his paintbrush back into the can and swirled it around, "I'm so sick of everyone, including her, thinking it's some necessity."

I let silence overtake the room for a minute, planning out my next words carefully. Damon always had a temper. He would never yell at Bonnie which was a good thing in her case but a bad case for everyone else, because whatever anger he had for her came barreling toward the world. I don't know where Damon's aversion to marriage came from seeing as our parents had been together since we were born, but he was extremely adamant in not trying to taint his dreams into becoming the generic American one.

And Bonnie was just like Elena in that sense. She hadn't had anyone but her mother growing up, and because of that she made sure her future was going to be better.

I always worried that one day she would snap and decide that being with Damon was a roadblock in those goals, but she loved him too much.

"Sometimes," I start, "sometimes I don't think we do things that we necessarily want to do. I think fifty percent of the things we do, is for the people we love. I don't want to spend obscene amounts of money on frivolous wedding ordeals to prove something to Elena she already knows. That's not my intention. I just know Elena wants a wedding, and I want Elena. So I do this one thing for her to make her happy, because she makes me happy all the time."

He keeps his gaze downcast but I didn't really try to meet his eyes either.

"I don't say this because I want to force you to marry Bonnie. I want you to want to marry Bonnie. I just want you to understand it's not about you. It's about making the girl you love, have a special day. That's all."

Though I simplified it in terms I don't think I even understood, he meets my eyes and gives a hesitant smile.

"When did you become better with words?"

The room was finished. Having a brother as an artist apparently did have perks. What wonderful perks they were, too.

I decided this proposal had to be more than just a way for us to get married. It had to be memorable, just like every big milestone in our lives. Not just memorable, though. It had to be something that she would remember every day. So that, even if she thinks I'm upset with her, or thinks that we've drifted apart, she'll know that there was a moment that I did this for her. That I wanted her to be my forever.

Tonight was the night.

I'd dressed in jeans, a white t- shirt and even shaved my face. I felt years younger than I was, and that was the whole point. The room was absolutely perfect and exactly as I'd remembered from years ago, and a smile graced by face when I stood in it. I only hope it will do the same for her.

I hear her car pull into our driveway, and the velvet box in my pocket starts to feel five hundred pounds heavier. My throat constricts and I grip the box over my jeans, taking in a huge breath.

The door flings open, and she shuffles in, dropping her bag on the floor, letting out a puff of air. Her hair falls in waves over her shoulder, but she brushes it back in a ponytail before finally seeing I was standing in front of her.

She looks at me, then at my clothes, and then back at me. Slowly, her face forms a grin and she walks over to give me a kiss.

I kiss her back, lost in the way she always tastes, but pull away quickly.

She gives me a confused look and I hold her hand gently in mine. "Remember the other day we talked about when we first met?"

Her eyes light up and she smiles, "Vaguely. I was pretty tired."

I lean down to kiss her nose and smile, "It made me think a lot."

She nods for me to continue and slips off her shoes. I slowly start to lead her to the room.

"I always thought when I was older my feelings for you would intensify. See, I loved you so much. It was a genuine love. Everyone always talked all this shit about first loves and how they don't last and I couldn't wait for our love to evolve into mature, adult love."

She glances nervously at me as I continue to walk her up the steps. "But here we are, and my feelings haven't changed at all. So then I started to wonder, if they ever would."

I see unshed tears start to fill her eyes as we reach the door. "I know we said we would decide what we would do with this room, but..."

I open the door and flick on the light and the room lights up immediately.

The back wall is just like Sunsed Park, where we went for our first official date. It was where we had out first kiss and began dating.

They tore it down when we went off for college, and I remember how upset she was, and how she felt they were crushing the essence of our relationship.

All I ever thought about after that was how to build something new to start our new relationship.

Damon had painted the whole room blue, but that back wall was a mixture of light yellows and angry oranges. The sunset was depicted so vividly, and he had included the playground toys as well. It was painted to perfection. The lights strew from wall to wall, illuminating the room with an air of familiarity of the park on Saturday, when Alaric Saltzman and his band played music down there.

And smack in the middle of the room was a bench that was completely new but also identical to our old one.

I took a peek at Elena to see her wiping her eyes anxiously, letting out a tiny sob. I hoped they were happy tears. I walked her over to the bench and let her lay her head on my shoulder.

"Why are you doing this for me?" She choked out, scrambling for a breath.

The ring in my pocket gained more weight and I closed my eyes and sighed.

I pull it out and roll it around in my hands for a moment. Elena gasps and her hands shoot up to her face as she sobs once more.

I open my mouth to speak but she puts a hand up to stop me as she collects herself. She takes a deep, calming breath, and even though she's crying all over the place, she looks beautiful.

She motions for me to continue, and faces me.

"There are a thousand ways I could say I love you, Elena, and I could mean every single one of them with my whole heart. There are a thousand ways I could tell you that you have beauty that can't even be replicated by a desperate man, or a thousand more ways to tell you that you mean everything to me. There are so many ways to say so many things, thousands of ways to ask you to be my wife, but I chose this way specifically.

I want you to know, that whether I'm 17 or 89, I'm going to love you just the same. I'm going to love you unconditionally, because I know that's the love we share. The love that overcomes any obstacles and that remains a constant in this world. People could say it's boring, but it's everlasting, fulfilling, and nearly overwhelming. That's what I love about us, about our relationship and about the way we love each other. I know I can't always find the right words to say to you sometimes. I know I'm not always the best boyfriend or the best listener. I know I leave cookie crumbs on the sofa and I always forget to wash the toothpaste out of the sink, or take the trash out, or forget to say thank you. Regardless, I still love you, and I still want you to be my wife."

I take a gulp of air and close my eyes tightly. I feel her hand stroke the side of my face and I relax into her touch, letting the calmness soothe my body.

"Yes, Stefan. Yes, I'll marry you."

It felt like waves crashing down over my body, spinning me in sensory overload. I brought my lips to hers, trying to convey how thankful I was to have her, to love her, and to be able to claim her as mine, because I don't do that every day. She responded eagerly and began to fawn over her ring, trying not to let too much excitement show.

I haven't actually seen Elena Gilbert fully naked yet, I suppose. The one version of Elena I've yet to encounter is her wearing my ring on her left hand.

I couldn't wait to meet her.