ii.
The so-called 'something about someone who can do something or another', to quote the extremely euphemistic words of Damon Salvatore, turned out to be a full-fledged press launch for something in VISON's new album. Elena sighed and looked around awkwardly as she walked into the upper class building at Damon's side. She thanked her lucky stars that Caroline had forced her into looking good tonight; there were sleazy looking photographers either side of her and they seemed intent on blinding her with numerous camera flashes and deafening her with their incoherent yells.
Despite it all, she felt that long-time ignored feeling building up in her stomach, stirring up and splitting that wide, involuntary smile across her face. There was something about the blinding lights, something about the deafening cries that she liked, just a little. Maybe it was the thrill; the whole 'fifteen minutes of fame' thing but she liked it. She glanced at Damon, the bright flashes making his eyes lighter and his hair darker. They threw his whole profile into sharp focus. The excitement buzzed around the room like electricity, sharp and sudden like a lightning storm in the midnight sky. It was then that she figured it wasn't much to do with the rich or the famous, or the lights or the cameras – when has she ever enjoyed this stuff? And it was a lot more to do with the man standing next to her. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Or most likely a combination of both. She sighed loudly, staring around the bustling room. She'd figure it out in the morning.
Damon risked a glance at her, a small smirk sliding onto his features. "You look fucking miserable, Elena Gilbert."
Elena laughed loudly, her eyes shining in a way her face had forgotten. "I'm thinking, Damon Salvatore, is that such a crime?"
"It is when it makes your pretty face goes all pouty." He said, placing a hand absently on the small of her back and leading her through the crowds.
She ignored his comment and let the strong hand on her back set her on fire. They ended up by a roped off area, dotted with assorted 'unimportant' people or so Damon whispered in her ear.
"You know," she whispered back, her lips brushing against his ear lobe. "You really downplay stuff."
"You know," he whispered back mockingly, a half smile teasing his lips. "They aren't all that important."
She rolled her eyes widely, shooting him an incredulous look. He shrugged innocently, looking like butter wouldn't melt. Her high heels clicked against the illuminated white flooring as he shoved her playfully up the stairs and towards a circular booth on the elevated area. He slung an arm carelessly around her back and pulled her down next to him on the velvet-covered seats.
The booth fell silent as five pairs of eyes swiveled suddenly and fell upon the new pair. Damon smirked roguishly and winked to a blonde haired girl.
"Hey Lex, don't look so surprised." He drawled grinning widely. "I might get offended."
"Not likely." The blonde muttered under her breath, huffing and leaning against the back of the chair with folded arms. "I'm surprised you actually came."
Elena glanced between the bickering pair and let her gaze travel across the other faces in the room. Three other men, with that vaguely sense of familiarity you get from even the remotely famous and two girls she swore she had never laid eyes on before that moment.
"You're being rude, brother." A brown haired guy said disapprovingly, the smile taking the bite out of his words. "I'm Stefan." He introduced warmly, nodding at her, making her think that strange unknown girls turning up on his brother's arm wasn't all too out of the question. He frowned slightly at the other people around the table when a dull silence followed.
"Elena." She replied casually, glancing around the table. It wasn't for at least another minute before she realized exactly whom she was sitting with. Her eyes snapped up suddenly, reexamining the men's faces. Matt Donovan sat directly opposite her; with his baby blue eyes and blonde hair he was that typical All-American football playing cliché, right down to the dimples. Next to the walking stereotype, there was Tyler Lockwood, all mysterious and dark and gorgeous. With dark hair and dark eyes he was as different from Matt as you could ever imagine. His arm was slung around the back of a dark-haired girl she didn't recognize. After that was another girl, blonde this time with a bright smile. For world famous members of a band, and their appropriate assortment of actress/model/heiress girlfriends they seemed just like a normal group going out for drinks.
On the blonde girl's other side, sat the first man who'd spoken. Stefan Salvatore, Damon's younger and a hell of a lot more grounded brother. Ever since VISION had found their way onto her radar she'd been curious about the brothers. Jeremy drove her crazy every time she visited him, she could never imagine working, sleeping, living and spending every waking moment with him.
"You're being rude." Damon mocked playfully, a warm familiarity in his voice as he grinned at the people around the table.
"Lexi." The blonde introduced, smiling at Elena and shaking her head at Damon. "If you ignore him, he shuts up."
"It's all a lie, I don't." he retorted, winking at her slyly. Elena rolled her eyes and leant her elbows on the table.
"Ty, stop being awkward. Your girl feels uncomfortable." Lexi ordered sharply, swatting his head jokingly.
"Leave him alone, Lex. You've been grilling them all evening." Stefan scolded playfully, elbowing his girlfriend gently. She sighed and began introductions herself. Elena smiled widely; she was nearly like Caroline aside from the less hyperactive screaming Care did a lot.
"Elena: This is Tyler, Hayley, Matty-"
"Matt." Matt interjected wearily shaking his head. "Hi." He said warmly, looking at Elena with undisguised interest. "And for the last time, will you drop it?"
"Matty and Stefan." She finished as if he hadn't spoken. "Ty's jetlagged, normally he'd have hit on you-"
Stefan coughed loudly sounding suspiciously like, "Hayley." As he wound an arm around Lexi's shoulders and smirked.
Hayley rolled her eyes and ran her hands through her hair. "Lexi won't shut up. Trust me, I know." She groaned and buried her face in her hands.
Elena laughed easily, her eyes wandering back to Damon's face. She was surprised to see his eyes dancing over her features.
"Damon." Stefan said suddenly, standing up and edging out of the booth. "Let's get a drink."
Damon groaned loudly as he stood up. "Don't yell at me now, little brother. I came here right?"
Stefan glared at him, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips. "Drink. Now."
"You sound like Dad."
"Shut up."
"You do. Not my fault if I want to comment on it."
As their playful bickering died away, the fifth and final member of VISION slid into the booth groaning in irritation.
Klaus Mikaelson, arrogant, British and Caroline's guilty pleasure, was currently sitting opposite her taking a deep gulp from the crystal tumbler in his hand. "Mate, where's Damon? I swear I saw him with-" he trailed off, his eyes scanning over her. "I saw him with you."
"Bar." She said simply, gesturing towards the white illuminated bar tops that edged the raised section they were sitting in. She found herself missing the deep oak and worn wood of Volpe's clubs. This place was all bright light and sharp lines; it was all very modern, very minimalistic. She missed the dark, vaguely smoky smell you found, despite the no smoking signs, in the hidden levels of La Volpe, whether you were in New York or Tokyo.
"With Stefan," Lexi added cheerily. "Hell must have frozen over."
Klaus looked at her, clearly not amused as he look another drink. "Yeah," Tyler chipped in. "When was the last time Damon and you were both at one event?"
"To be fair, we don't bother telling him anymore." Matt laughed, glancing at Elena fleetingly. "Elena, this is Klaus. Klaus – Elena. Don't hit on her, Damon will happily punch you."
"I wouldn't punch him." Damon said smoothly, sliding into the booth beside Elena and leaning his elbows on the table. "Unless he pissed me off."
"Him hitting on her would piss you off." Stefan added, sitting next to Lexi and handing her a drink.
Damon raised an eyebrow, taking a swig of his drink. "Yeah." Stefan rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly at his brother. "Can we leave now?" he asked hopefully, gesturing between him and Elena. "I showed up, the press know I'm here. Come on Stef," he wheeled persuasively, looking at his brother irritatingly. "Don't push your luck. I might still mess something up-"
"God, just go." Lexi said loudly, burying her face in her hands.
"Why don't you like me, Lex?" Damon pouted at the blonde. "I'm lovely."
Lexi's eyes narrowed at she took in Damon's mildly putout face. "Because." She sniped.
Stefan bit back a laugh and waved at his brother. "Just leave. Please don't assault any photographers. Again."
"Only if they don't harass us." Damon scowled as he stood up and held his hand out to Elena. She took it gently and let him pull her up swiftly so she was standing nose to nose with the world-renowned womanizer, staring into his icy blue irises. "See you later." He said distractedly, gesturing half-heartedly towards the rest of the table as he stared deep into Elena's endless brown depths.
"Bye." Stefan and Klaus chorused smugly, sending each other suggestive looks concerning their brother and best friend.
"Yeah. Bye." Damon said carelessly, keeping his unmoving eyes fixed on Elena. His hand dropped hers suddenly and found it's way to the small of her back again and began leading her down the stairs towards the exit. The second their feet touched the outside concrete, the cameras exploded. Flashes erupted around Elena's eyes, disorientating her for a few seconds as bright lights blinded her world. A chorus of jumbled yells finally reached her ears, and countless faces blurred in front of her.
"C'mere." Damon said quietly, winding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her back through the throngs of people and into a quieter side street. "This way."
"Quite a life, huh?" she questioned playfully as she pushed a strand of hair out of her face and began walking beside him through the orange washed streets.
"I'm sorry." He shrugged, looking at the ground as a small scowl appeared on his face.
"What?" she stopped short and stared at him in confusion. "What the hell you on about?" she asked incredulously.
Damon smiled ruefully, leaning against the damp concrete walls and looking at her with a soft smile. "You'll be all over the internet tomorrow and I'm sorry."
Elena grinned at him mischievously. "What makes you think the world wants to read about you? Maybe they'll all lose interest in you and I'll be in the clear."
"Yes," he drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "That's why those photographers were so intent on getting a shot of your face."
"Maybe I've got a secret double life you don't know about 'cause you're so wrapped up in your own." She quipped cheerfully, sending him a playful wink.
"God, you're really something, you know that?" He said in disbelief, shaking his head in shock. "You're not at all fazed by this, are you?"
"By what? The world-famous, blue-eyed devil of a man standing in front of me?" she asked smirking, mirroring his pose and standing opposite him with her arms folded across her chest. "Not a big deal. I do feel kind of like Cinderella though." She admitted with a grin.
He pouted, cocking his head to the side and examining her intently. He'd never paid much attention to woman's clothes unless they were lying on the floor, but now, he found himself appraising every inch of the girl's figure. From her skyscraper black fuck-me heels, up her long, tanned legs, to the black skirt and floating coral top. Not to mention that fucking black leather jacket she was wearing, god, he loved those. Why was it that leather was so deliciously tempting when women wore it? Especially dark haired doe-eyed girls who couldn't care less about being alone in a quiet side street with a world-famous member of a world-famous band.
"Well Cinders, you're due to turn back into a pumpkin," He said, glancing at his watch. "At least an hour ago."
"Cinderella didn't turn into a pumpkin. You need to sort out your fairytales, Damon Salvatore."
"Elena, I couldn't care less about Cinderella not turning into a pumpkin." He said bluntly, giving her an exasperated look.
"Stop using Cinderella references then. Gosh." She said exasperatedly, leaning one of her heels against the graffiti free walls impatiently. "I hate these streets." She grumbled, staring around at the drab walls that surrounded them. The endless grey bricks and dull concrete was so scarce of life, and beauty, and vibrancy that it made her wonder how anyone could live in the apartments above her. They wouldn't look out onto a piece of street art the way she did every morning. They wouldn't have a new perspective of the vandalism with each passing day. They would have grey walls, to match their grey lives and grey personalities.
"What did these streets ever do to you?" he asked curiously, staring around them too. He saw nothing but dark grey walls, washed with the dull gold of the street lamps.
"They're boring. There's no color. It's just grey on grey and it bores me." She pouted, standing up straight and folding her arms. "It's the same near La Volpe. It's the same all over this place. The people are too rich with money, the artists don't come here."
Damon stared at her as she spoke, a small smile spreading across his face. You can fall in love with the way people look, or the way the act, or what they pretend to be. Or you can fall in love with the little motions of their beings; a lip biting, or habit of skirting around a crack in the sidewalk or the way their eyes lit up when they talk of the things they love. You can fall in love with the passion they carry with them, and the beauty and wonder they find even in the most insignificant of beautiful things.
"Show me." He told her simply, pushing off the wall and walking over to stand in front of her with his hands pushed deep into his pockets.
Elena whirled around and looked at him, a spark behind her eyes that was still waiting to fade away with the remnants of her tirade. "Show you?"
"Show me color. Show me a place where it's not just grey on grey. Show me a place where the people aren't just rich with money." He said, shrugging his shoulders. "Cinderella's just a fairytale, Elena. You've got me 'til it starts getting light."
Elena gave him an odd look, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "What happens when it gets light?"
"I turn back into an onion." He said with a shrewd smile.
"An onion." she repeated doubtfully. "Why an onion?"
"I never said anything about being a fairytale. Come on."
"Where the hell are we going?" Damon moaned a while later as he ducked under a broken doorframe. "Are we-" he stopped short and stared at Elena as she climbed daintily through a broken window like she'd done it a thousand times before. Well, she probably had. "How are you doing that?"
Elena's face appeared through the glass free frame, her long brown hair hanging in wavy curls over the side of her face as she looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Doing what?"
"Elena, you're in like six million feet heels and a skirt. Normal people wearing normal clothes can't climb through windows like you just did."
"Normal?" she said in mock-disgust. "Normal?" she shuddered and glared at him playfully. "Come on then. Prove you're not just a pretty face, rock star."
Damon chuckled, shaking his head and jumped through the window with unnerving ease, although, the stumble at the end did ruin the effect slightly. "Did that meet your standards then?"
She chuckled and waved her hand dismissively. "Average. Come on," she said impatiently, tapping her heel against the stone floor. "You wanted to see color, you'll get color if you hurry the hell up."
"Shit, you're cranky." He said passively, gesturing for her to lead the way. "You realize this is illegal, right?"
Elena scoffed. "Really Damon? You're bringing that up now?"
"Someone's gotta teach you about rules." He said, a coy smirk spreading over his features.
"Is that person going to be you?" she said laughing as she expertly led him through the concrete maze.
"Nope." He said cheerfully, popping the 'p'. "The more rules broken the better."
Her next comment was cut off as they finally ducked under some abandoned metal scaffolding to see the most vibrant display of graffiti he'd ever laid eyes on.
"Holy shit, this is insane." He said grinning widely as he gaped openly at the bursts of color adorning the once drab walls. The wide-open room was an explosion of the beauty you can coax from a spray can. The ceiling to floor windows gave inky black backgrounds to some of the most amazing creations he'd ever laid eyes on. Fuck, it was insane was people could go with a pressurized can. "How did you find this?"
"It's been here for as long as I can remember." She shrugged, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at the paint. "It used to be different."
"You mean people change it?" he asked curiously, tilting his head right back to get a look at the painted ceiling.
"Yeah." She said simply, looking at him like he was crazy. "Old artists leave, new ones discover it – they add their tags, or a whole piece or whatever. They leave their mark. That's what life is all about, right? Finding a way that people will remember you?"
"It's amazing." He said quietly, turning in a slow circle to stare at every inch of the bursting display.
"Yeah." She said softly, gazing at a particular section of wall. She turned her head to look at him, his icy blue eyes jumping out from beneath his dark hair. "Now you know why I hate your Manhattan."
"You don't just hate it because it's grey. I'm not a complete idiot." He pointed out, leaning one shoulder against the painted walls. "You fucking hate it all."
"Observant." She said quietly, pushing off the wall and wandering away, brushing her hand over the coarse walls. " But you're right, I really do fucking hate it all. It's overrated and pretentious and it's everything my life was before I got some sense slammed into me."
"Your Manhattan was different to mine." Damon argued as he walked closer to her and they began walking back to the bustling streets.
"You don't even know what my Manhattan was like." She pointed out as she climbed back through the shattered window with Damon following behind her. "It was the same thing, the same fake people who stopped at nothing to achieve what they wanted. It revolved around money and who knew who and who could buy this and who could buy that." She spat out irritably. "Your Manhattan is exactly like that."
"My Manhattan is about the people." He said with a glimmer shining beneath his icy blue eyes. "And the lights, and the world that I get a chance to be apart of. Yeah, it relies on money – the industry would crumble without it, but it's the people that make it amazing."
"Your fans?" she replied skeptically, raising her eyebrows. "The people who judge your every move and are desperate to know ever detail of your private life?"
"The people who buy our music and come to album signings and write to us. The people who actually believe our music can make a fucking difference. It's crazy, and I'm not in the habit of ignoring the little details that convince me to live through another day, and moments that make the world seem slightly less harsh."
Elena was silent for a while, her mind racing through his words. As he spoke with sparkling eyes about his world, she realized that when you are born into a scene like that you're used like she had been. When you worked your way up into the A-list rankings – as opposed to slotting in right at the top – you held the wonder of it in a new light.
"I was seven years old and forced into pretty dresses and treated like an accessory. I wasn't a child, or a daughter or even a person to my parents. I was an object created for an illusion of perfection." She said quietly, wrapping her leather jacket tightly around her. "If you wonder why I hate the fame and the money you seem to love, then there's your reason."
"So you're not close?" he questioned quietly, glancing at her briefly.
"They died when I was nine." She said distantly, not a whisper of pain gracing her beautiful features.
"That must've hard for a nine year old." Damon said softly as the soft lights of the street lamps glinted of her chestnut hair.
"I don't know what family is like, Damon. But before you had this whole life you had your family – mom, dad, and brother. You've got something to fall back on."
"That blonde girl then. Caroline," he pointed out as the shining lights of the thriving city washed them in their glow. "She's your family."
Elena scoffed, a soft smile appearing on her face. "Her family kicked me out when I was sixteen, you know. My behavior wasn't 'appropriate'." She mocked with a brighter smile as she used air quotations.
Damon burst out laughing, his whole face lit up at she listened to her casual accounts of why she hated his Manhattan so much. The ostentatious galas and balls, the stress and pressures put upon the children as soon as they were born. It was a world that revolved around perfection, and when she hadn't provided that, her parents didn't give her the time of day. He looked at her and held a hand out to her as they stopped in front of the building of the event they had left before. She took his hand and let him tow her safely throw the crowds of people, into to club and back towards the booth they had claimed earlier. Only Stefan, Lexi were seated at the booth now, and a men's jacket slung over the back of the seat suggested one extra who had escaped the couple.
"You're back." Lexi cried happily with a bright grin as she caught sight of Elena. Her expression soured slightly as she looked at Damon's smug expression. "But you brought Damon with you." She pouted playfully as she laughed.
Damon sat down, sliding along the leather-covered bench to make room for her. "He's not all that bad." Elena conceded graciously, winking at Damon slyly.
"See Lex?" Stefan said, nudging his girlfriend. "He's not all that bad." He repeated with a grin. "How'd you end up back here then?"
"Elena showed me her Manhattan," Damon explained cryptically, signaling to a waiter to bring him a drink. "So I brought her back to mine."
Lexi made a face at Damon and leant back in her chair. "Manhattan is Manhattan no matter were you go. It's still just one place." Stefan said as he played with a strand of Lexi's hair.
"It's the best place in the whole world." Damon said stubbornly.
"It is." Lexi reluctantly agreed, shrugging as Stefan shot her an incredulous look. "I don't wanna leave again."
"Great idea! Stay here while we finish the tour. I could use a break." Damon suggested gleefully as the waiter brought his a small tumbler of amber liquid.
"Damon-" Stefan said hesitantly, eyeing the glass in his brother's hand.
Damon gave him a sharp look as he took a pointed gulp. "Not tonight, Stefan. Drop it." He said, and something about his tone made Stefan listen. He dropped it.
"I could survive a few weeks without you," Lexi said thoughtfully, leaning her hands on the table. "It's not like I've got anyone to spend time with while you're rehearsing."
"She'll shut up eventually." Damon whispered in her ear, sending goose bumps across her shoulders as his warm breath brushed against her skin. "Just ride it out."
"I heard that." Lexi snapped testily, glaring at Damon. "I'd happily spend every day alone here if I could escape you."
"We're going west next, Lex." Stefan reminded her with a smirk on his face. "We both know you won't miss that." Lexi shrugged, laughing lightly.
"How about you?" she asked Elena, shocking her out of her reverie. "You tagging along?"
"Huh?" she said as she jolted back into the conversation. She laughed shaking her head at her own ridiculousness.
"Are you coming on the rest of the tour with us?" Elena blinked in shock at the blonde's suggestion. "You should. We're going west next. You could keep Damon company." She said with a shameless wink.
She looked at Damon shyly, a strange sensation nestling in her stomach. His lips quirked upwards and he looked at her innocent face and shy eyes. "Come at your own risk. Lexi hasn't recruited Hayley into her cult yet, so you're her next target. You'll never get a free moment alone. I mean-"
"We're closing. Get out." An older man dressed in all black interrupted as he approached their table. "I don't care how famous you two are. You still gotta leave when everyone else does."
Damon smirked and stood up with a false smile. "Come on, Jones. You know you love us."
"Boss is afraid to kick you out." Jones said glaring at him. "But I'm not. It's past closing, you gotta leave."
"Leave him alone, Damon." Stefan moaned, winding and arm around Lexi's shoulders and picking up the discarded jacket. "We know you hate him, now let's leave." The couple didn't wait for them. They walked away, arms wrapped around each other. Elena watched with a smile as Stefan pressed a soft kiss to the side of Lexi's head and held her tightly to him. It was surreal to watch such a famous man act so crazy in love, just like the rest of the world.
"You too." Jones said wearily, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door.
Elena shrugged and let Damon pull her gently to her feet. They walked outside in a companionable silence, breathing the icy air of the lobby as it washed over their flushed faces.
"You're good to leave." Damon said quietly as he hesitantly checked outside. "Cameras are gone."
Elena shrugged and ran her fingers through her hair. "They already got a picture of me."
Damon mocked her shrug with a slight twinkle in his eyes. "Let me walk you home."
"I was gonna call a cab. These shoes are like hell." She said with a grin, sticking her foot out shakily and turning her ankle to show him the lethal inventions strapped to her feet.
"So take them off." Damon said, holding onto her elbow to steady her. "Baby steps, 'Lena. Baby steps."
"You try taking baby steps in these heels." She said shaking her head as she stood straight upright stubbornly and began walking in the direction of her apartment. "You won't have time to walk me home."
"I don't have to be anywhere." He told her easily, shoving his hands deeps in his pockets as he walked beside her along the deserted streets.
"It's getting light. Wouldn't want you turning back into a pumpkin." She teased playfully butting her shoulder into his.
"Onion. This isn't a fairytale, remember?"
She shrugged slightly. "You're living your fairytale, so who cares if it's not what every one else thinks is one?"
Damon scoffed, following Elena as she turned around a corner. "You think my life's a fairytale?"
"You mean it's not?" she countered swiftly. "You mean this isn't everything you've ever wanted?"
Damon's eyes became a little darker, a dark cloud settling into the lines of his smile. "I lost a lot getting this life. I expected a bit more."
"This isn't a fairytale, Damon. This is reality." She told him, shooting him a brief look with her large doe eyes glinting in the dim lighting. "And reality is never perfect."
"How about you?" he said easily, acting as if she hadn't spoken.
"What about me?" She glanced at him again, the sharp lines of his profile strikingly abstract under the soft orange glow.
He shrugged as they trudged through the dark streets, the bright lights of the city seemingly unable to blacken the beauty of the darkened walls of the decorated city. "What's your reality, or fairytale, or whatever?"
"I take my lot and make the most of it." She said with an imperceptible shrug and a half-hearted smile. "It could have been worse."
"Everything could always be worse; that doesn't mean that your life is any less significant."
"My parents could still be alive." She said with a guarded look settling across her unlit features. "Then it could be a hell of a lot worse."
Damon wasn't sure how to respond to that. To him, family was the very root of his being. Stefan was his annoying as hell little brother first and unwavering best friend second whose main priority was to keep him in line for as long as humanly possible. His mom was his rock; ever the peacemaker between the raging family arguments that overtook her sons and her late husband's estranged family. His father had been a good man, though harsh in his ways of parenting. Despite his flaws, and the flaws of the rest of his blood, they were family until the rivers ran upward and the sun rose in the wrong (westward?) skies.
"Right on time." Elena said with a small, sad smile as she stopped in front of a door on a street that seemed vaguely familiar – but then again, New York was New York, and had streets in Manhattan and streets the other side of the city that looked exactly the same. As the new day broke across the skyline, she stepped up onto the first concrete step and looked him straight in the eye.
"I don't know. I still have a couple minutes." Damon said as he squinted at the day breaking behind the towering sky rises.
Elena leant her head to one side, studying him intently as he raised one eyebrow and met her intense scrutiny steadily.
"Are you gonna get lost heading back?" she asked, just the right amount of playfulness suffusing through her tones.
Damon swallowed, looking around seriously, his eyes scanning over the unknown streets. "Ah, fuck. Probably." He conceded, running a hand through his hair. "I'll call a cab, it's fine."
Elena sighed, shook her head and held out a hand for him to take. He took it hesitantly, his icy eyes flickering between their joined hands and her amused expression. She tugged on his hand, sending him stumbling up the stairs after her and she let herself into the building and showed him to her front door.
"I'm going to die." Damon deadpanned as Elena opened the door and led him inside. "Seriously." Elena laughed loudly and pulled off her leather jacket and shoes as she disappeared into a room off to the side.
"Don't be so melodramatic!" she called through to him as he sat down comfortably on the leather couch and pulled off his jacket.
Reappearing a few minutes later, she dropped onto the couch beside him and stared at him with that smile that told him she knew a lot of secrets.
"So why have you brought me to your apartment exactly?" he asked with a smirk. "I feel like I'm about to be taken advantage of."
"I couldn't leave you on a street corner, idiot." She said rolling her eyes widely. "Call somebody to get you, or crash here."
"You'd let a stranger crash in your apartment? Are you really that insane?" he scolded disbelievingly as he leant forward and leant his forearms on his legs.
"I guess so." she shrugged and tucked her feet under herself. "After spending several hours together you tend to feel more comfortable around a person. I like you, Damon Salvatore. Maybe not all stars are so wrapped up in their own egos; it makes you want to knock them down about ten levels. Fame isn't always a bad thing. Or so I've decided after tonight."
"Even tomorrow when you're most likely going to be on the cover of nearly ever fucking gossip magazine?" he said bitterly.
"Even tomorrow." She confirmed. "You don't like the publicity?"
He shook his head slowly, his eyes burning straight into her mind. "I don't like everyone knowing every detail of my life. I don't like the idea of them knowing about you."
Elena scoffed incredulously and shook her head in disdain. "Can't been seen hanging around some nobody can you?"
"I didn't mean that and you know it." He snapped shortly, running both hands through his messy black hair.
"Do I?" she challenged, leaning back into the soft arm of the couch.
"Well you should. I don't want you on every magazine cover because I actually like you too. And believe it or not, my life isn't for public viewing." He told her in a much softer tone.
"Isn't it worth it?"
"Not on nights like these. Sometimes I just want to meet a girl, let her drag me fucking everywhere around the city at 2 a.m. then walk her home and act pleasantly surprised when she invites me into her apartment. Is that too much to ask?"
"Even if you weren't famous that'd be a lot to ask." She told him laughing brightly as she wound her arms around one of her legs.
"It didn't stop them before." He said with a wink at her as he reclined again the back of the sofa.
"You're disgusting." She said with a slight smile, throwing a pillow at his face. Silently cheering as it met its target. "And I take it all back, you've got a massive ego."
"Wouldn't be me without it." Damon said, smirking cheerfully, ducking swiftly away from a pillow flying in his direction. "Quit throwing fucking pillows at me!"
"No!" she yelled back, throwing one more as she shook with laughter.
"I gotta say," he said with a grin as threw the remainder of the sofa cushions out of her reach. "I like acting normal."
"Why aren't you an onion yet?" she murmured, dropped her face against her arms and blinking sleepily at him. "Your whole life is a fairytale."
"'Cause I don't live in a fairytale, 'Lena. Sometimes you just gotta accept your reality, it always turns out the way it's supposed to, and it's always going to be fucking shit compared to what you imagined when you were a kid."
"You're a fatalist then." She said groggily, sleep closing in on her faster and faster by the second. She could feel the familiar weight against her shoulders and the itching of her tired eyes. Running a hand through her hair, she forced her eyes open and blinked at Damon Salvatore, sitting across from her on her bargain sofa and staring at her as if she were the desert sunset, setting the sky and the land and the horizon alight with her flame – and maybe to him, she was. "If I pass out, don't you dare wake me up."
Damon smiled softly, tilting his head back against the headrest and letting his eyes drop shut for a moment or two. Subconsciously, his arm draped across the small two-seater sofa and his fingers brushed lightly through her hair once, and then somehow, never seemed to stop. His eyes fell onto her peaceful face, everything, every tiny, insignificant detail of her face was suddenly burned into his brain. The gentle curve of her neck as her hair fell back, the touch of her eyelashes against her cheek, the soft movements of her chest as her breathing slowed.
"Are you staying?" she said, half asleep. Damon smirked and let his eyes finally fall completely shut.
"Yeah." He said softly, the blanket of darkness surrounding him like an old friend.
"Will you get me a pillow?" she asked, smirking through the darkness.
"Shut up 'Lena."
"You shut up." She groaned, burying her face in a pillow and swatting at him lazily letting her hand rest gently on his stomach.
"You started this conversation." He argued back sleepily, cracking one eye open to look at her. "You crazy girl."
She only groaned, her fingers still resting lightly against his skin as his shirt rode up and she slowly drifted to sleep. Amongst the darkness of the night and the faint lights of the never sleeping city, Damon Salvatore sat awake for a long time. Sometimes his eyes were fixed on the shining city lights, and at others they were resting on nothing but the shadowed walls. And then, at other moments, briefly as if he couldn't allow the night to glimpse his weakness, he let his eyes wander to Elena's sleeping face as the soft pressure of her hand against his skin and he to, let sleep take him.
A/N: I am so sorry for not updating anything in so long! Personal circumstances delayed my progress, and they may still continue to do so. I will not give up on these stories, but sometimes it may take me longer than other times to update. If anything I hope this is going to kickstart me back into action!
Leave me your thoughts!
5/3/13