CHAPTER TWO
A loud rumble of thunder shook the walls of Elena's room. "This is ridiculous," she whispered to herself, "You'll hang out with vampires but you can't take a little thunderstorm?" Before she even realised what she was doing she found herself padding down the hall barefoot towards Damon's room. She wasn't sure what she hoped to find there or achieve, but she couldn't stand being on her own any longer. She knocked on his door and timidly entered. The room was dark, save for one small lamp on his night stand which served as a reading light. Wait, Damon was reading? Elena hadn't seen that one coming. She'd expected him to be making the most of the various flat screens about the room. His Macintosh, his TV, his brand new iPad (that she wasn't allowed to touch)…. But no, he was reading a book. And not just any book, he was reading 'Gone with the Wind'.
"Margaret Mitchell? You didn't strike me as the type."
"The type of person who can appreciate great writing?" he said, dropping the worn novel onto his chest, which, she noted, was bare.
"Fair enough."
"So what brings you to the dragon's lair, kitten? Couldn't resist me after all?"
"No, I just don't like storms."
"You, Elena Gilbert, whose best friend is a witch, boyfriend is a vampire and babysitter is a "self serving psychopath with no redeeming qualities", are afraid of a little thunder?"
"I know, it's stupid." she looked up from the floor to see Damon fold back the covers of his bed, inviting her in. She nearly skipped towards him, but kept her pace under control as she slipped under the covers with him. Surprised when his arm came around her shoulder she cuddled up to his heat instinctively, and they both began to read from the exhausted pages. After a few minutes and a lot of mental rehearsal, she worked up the courage to say "When I was little, in thunderstorms like this, I used to climb inside the duvet cover." He looked down at her, and she at him, and before they new it both proceeded to unbutton his duvet cover and fumble their way inside. They sat opposite each other, legs crossed in silence, listening to the storm rage on outside.
"So what do we do now?" he asked, truly curious.
"Just talk."
"Talk."
"Yeah. You know, talk; contemplating man's existential questions, discussing current affairs …. Or in our case, just witty banter. "
"Okay then." There was a long pause when he said, completely out of the blue, "What's your favourite colour?"
"What?"
"What's your favourite colour?" he repeated.
"Red. You?"
"Black."
"Figures." She said, rolling her eyes.
"Sometimes dark green."
"Oooh, how exotic."she mocked.
"I think so." He smiled.
"What's your favourite book?" she asked, starting to enjoy the game.
"It's a tie between 'Wuthering Heights' and… Twilight."
"Are you serious?"
"No."
"I used to like Twilight. That was before I started dating an actual vampire, and before it got all commercialised and they cast Robert Pattinson as the most beautiful man to walk this Earth." she said firmly.
"Should've been me, I know." he chuckled.
"Actually, yes."
"I knew you'd see sense." his smile broadened.
"It's not hard to be more attractive than Robert Pattinson, Damon."
"You wound me, Elena."
"You heal fast." she retorted.
"Okay. Who is your favourite actor?"
"I dunno. It's too hard. Maybe Ed Westwick."
"Gossip Girl? Really Elena?" he said, chuckling.
"I know. You know you kind of remind me of Chuck."
"That Jenny-screwing bastard? I had hoped you thought better of me than that."
"I don't think of you." She said, laughing at his factual input.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you to always tell the truth, kitten?" he said, teasingly.
"Eugh. So how exactly do you know so much about this show you so passionately disagree with?" she shot back.
"I know everything." he smirked, unfazed by her attack. She scowled at him.
"So what about you then, who's your favourite actor?" she said, trying to move on quickly.
"Cary Grant, without question." he responded.
"I've never seen one of his films." She admitted.
"You're kidding." He said with a sincere look of surprise on his face.
"Nope." She assured.
"You haven't lived. So what's your favourite movie then?"
"The Blair Witch Project."
"You're scared of thunderstorms, but not a forest full of twig voodoo?"
"Hey, I'm a complicated girl."
"I know." They smiled at each other. Sensing an awkward silence approaching he continued, "So you like horror movies, then?"
"Sure, you don't?"
"My life is a horror movie, baby." He said, baring his fangs.
"Except ninety nine percent of the time you're the predator, not the prey." she said, completely unfazed by his display.
"It helps." he said, composing his face and surprised that she seemed unaffected by being inside a duvet with him all "vamped out". There was a pause.
"Favourite food?"
"You're seriously asking?" he smirked.
"You know what I mean." she said, sighing.
"Mince pies."
"Aww, cute."
"Excuse me? I am not cute." He protested, "I am Damon Salvatore. I am many things; hot, irresistible, charming even, but never cute."
"No, I disagree. I think you're just a big fluffy teddy bear."
"If that's what you're into."
"What, paedophilia?"
"Well, from you current relationship status I would say more along the lines of necrophilia."
"Eww, oh God." she grimaced.
"I thought I said you could call me Damon." He smirked.
AN: Its big, its blue and its calling out to you.