~ Chapter 4 ~

Burgundy Nails


Day One

Elena's in love with Paris.

She's been here for a whole of two hours maybe, but as soon as she steps out of the airport, glancing around in awe at the myriad of shining lights around her, she just knows.

Coming here's the best decision she's ever made.

Damon seems to agree, and he slings his arm over Elena's shoulder with a wink and a smile, and she smiles back because she knows that it's these silent gestures that show just how much Damon cares.

She doesn't miss the way his eyes light up when she puts her own arm around his waist – they meld right into the décor of brilliant colors here, she thinks dazedly – and watches him hail a cab.

When the taxi driver drops them off in place Vendome, Elena looks around for the hotel and her jaw just positively drops to the ground. Damon apparently wants to book a suite at the Ritz.

"You can't be serious," she says finally, looking at him with wide brown eyes.

Damon shrugs but there's a betraying sparkle in his eyes. "Well, you should know me better than to think I'd settle for anything less than spectacular," he says before he turns around to request two separate bedrooms in the suite.

"Une suite avec deux chambres à part s'il vous plait."

She's in absolute awe at how perfect his French is, and how fluently and decidedly French he sounds. His smooth and confident drawl goes to a whole new other level in another language.

"I'm really envying your language skills right now," she tells him (after having made a huge fuss about how ridiculously gigantic their suite is. She shouldn't complain, she supposes, since they have two separate bedrooms, but does it really have to have a bar and two living rooms?).

He swings his bag carelessly over one of the couch, glancing at her amusedly. His grin is blinding. "I'll teach you as we go along," he tells her. "Take it as a bonus."

She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch, betraying, upwards. "How considerate of you," she replies.

"I try my best." He grabs his jacket and pulls it on, motioning for her to do the same. "Come on, we're going out."

She doesn't bother asking him where because she's got the strange feeling he won't tell her.

Damon takes her to the boulevard Haussmann and walks her all the way to the famous Galleries Lafayette. She screeches like a teenage girl, unable to help herself, before she feels her cheeks burn and ducks her head.

But when she glances at him, Damon's looking at her with a soft glow in his ridiculously blue, blue eyes – like it's okay for her to act like a teenage girl – and Elena realizes that it really is because that's what she is – a teenage girl.

"Pick something pretty," Damon tells her when they walk in. "We'll be going out a lot." Just as she opens her mouth to protest, he holds up his hands. "Yes, I'm covering all of the expenses and no, you have no say in this, and yes you will pick out nice clothes to wear or I'll buy them for you myself." His mouth curves slyly, and he does that eye-thing she hates (but thrills her all the way to her tiptoes). "And we both know you don't want that."

"Fine," she huffs, folding her arms.

"Oh don't go all pouty on me, Elena," Damon says, and there's excitement in his every word. "We're on vacation, and you're a teenager. Shopping is supposed to be fun."

And Elena's heart strings twinge just a little bit, because Damon is right. She'll worry about the price of all of this when she gets home, but right now she is a teenager, in Paris and going shopping.

So she lets loose, and realizes that really, things are much more enjoyable when you let yourself enjoy it.

Funny, how that had escaped her mind these past few weeks.

Day Two:

The next day, Damon takes her to the Louvre at nine o'clock sharp, and Elena spends a decent half an hour outside simply admiring the exterior of the palace. She looks at the statues of the figures standing solemnly above with awe, and her hands come up to trace the smooth strokes of the French architecture, drawing the 'N' that stands for Napoleon over and over again.

Elena doesn't want to miss a single detail of this fabulous exterior, and she goes around the palace stopping at random intervals to let the sheer beauty of the palace hit her.

She makes sure to drag Damon with her all the time.

He doesn't complain – at least, not at first – but after a while, he sighs and laces his fingers with hers, and drags her to the small pyramid at the center of the palace square. "I know the outside's pretty and all," he drawls when she cries out in protest. "But don't forget we're here to see the museum as well, and all of that's inside."

Elena rolls her eyes, but she doesn't take her hand away from his as they wait in the moderately long line.

It doesn't take long for them to get inside and then get their tickets, and Elena figures it's just a slow day until she sees the mile long line of people entering and exiting the museum. Then she looks at Damon and realizes that he'd anticipated the number of people, and that's why they'd come here so early. "How thoughtful of you," she teases when she explains her reasoning to him and this time, it's Damon's turn to roll his eyes at her.

"Come on," he says. "Let's go see the paintings. The Italians are made of serious stuff."

"You say that because you're one of them."

He shrugs. "That too," he retorts. "But seriously, they're great, and I'm not only talking about Mona Lisa." He sounds so excited that Elena begins to laugh quietly, but she follows him, and lets him show her the paintings and the painters, and tell her about those that were alive when he was alive.

Turns out, the Italian paintings are awesome – they'd impressed her far more than any of the French or British ones – but Damon was right about the Mona Lisa. It wasn't bigger than a decent sized framed picture, and with all the security and the lines and the "non, vous ne pouvez pas approcher mademoiselle," is just ridiculous.

They give up getting a good view of the Joconde as she's called here in France after a while. Damon tells her there's some good Egyptian stuff here so they make their way to that part of the museum, and it's a trip and a half just to get there. Elena still can't get over how huge everything is inside here. There are so many stairwells and passages and hallways and wings it makes her head spin.

After passing an impressive looking sphinx, they enter a room that screams back Egypt. They wander around aimlessly for a little while, until Elena's gaze zeroes on a particular exposed piece.

"This really freaks me out," Elena murmurs to Damon. They're standing and looking at the mummy lying peacefully inside the glass walls.

Elena looks at the perfectly formed fingers, and shivers. "That was a person," she whispers.

"Well, since it's a mummy…"

Irritated, Elena hits Damon's arm lightly. "Be respectful." Her eyes look at the mummy again and she feels horribly fascinated by this human being all tied up in bandages. She wonders what it'd look like if she untied everything, and this time feels the shiver all the way down to her toes.

"Let's go," she tells Damon. "I want to see the other sphinx."

In the end, they finish the Egyptian section, and don't even look at a fourth of the Greek one before they decide to leave. The Louvre is just too big, and though Elena would've liked to see more, her feet are killing her and they'd already gotten lost twice.

"Coffee?" Damon asks as they exit into the metropolitan area. "I know a café on the boulevard Capucines that is fantastic."

"Coffee sounds really great," Elena says. "And I'd like to try those little pastries everyone seems to have here. You know those that look like…little hamburgers or something."

"Les macarons?" Damon asks, and Elena's struck again at how French he sounds. "Sure, that café has them." He suddenly starts to chuckle. "Little hamburgers…"

"Well at least, you know what I'm talking about!" she insists. "It's a perfectly reasonable description."

Damon snorts. "If it keeps you happy, ma cherie." And he lifts his left hand up to hail a cab.

Elena smiles at that, and looks at their entwined hands.

They hadn't let go of each other since Damon had dragged in to the Louvre.

She tries not to let that pleasure light up her eyes, but if the way the cab driver winked at her is of any indication, she's failed miserably.

She can't bring herself to care.

Day Three, Four, Five

Being in Paris feels like a dream – the kind Elena never wants to wake up from.

Damon's been nothing but courteous to her over the past few days, treating her to all the most delicious places around (he's been spoiling her, really and truly, but she's not going to go admitting that). He's taken her to some beautiful places too – they went up the Eiffel Tower, danced around the Cartier Latin and Elena even got to admire the beautiful Notre Dame de Paris.

Every night is a surprise and, so far, Damon's taken her to a restaurant, the Opera, and the movies. Since her French was horrible on good days, Damon spent the entire night when they were at the opera and at the movies translating warmly and sensually in her ear.

Elena still can't recall yesterday night without blushing – they had been watching some kind of movie, and then Damon had started trailing his hand up and down her thigh, his voice descending to an octave that made her insides turn to liquid and then – she'd already been passed paying attention to whatever was happening on screen at this point – Damon had taken her lobe between his teeth and her mind had become unnervingly blank.

Did he stop? No, being Damon, he'd made sure to drag his mouth from her ear and to her cheek, then slowly to her lips.

But he'd never kissed her. Just as his lips had reached her tingling ones, he'd pulled back, smirking at her dilated brown eyes.

Elena doesn't think she's ever wanted to kiss and kill the same person as much as she'd wanted to do both to Damon at that moment.

She thinks it's unhealthy to want to do such radical things to the same person, but then it's Damon, and she realizes that her feelings just can't be trusted when she's around him.

She knows why, and the reason multiplies both urges by a million.

Day Six

Today, if Elena judges by the way Damon's eyes sparkle when he sees her at breakfast on her sixth day; today is going to be her best day in Paris yet.

"So what's the plan?" she asks as she snatches a piece of toast. There's no butter on her plate and she frowns and takes Damon's.

"We're going to go to – hey that's my butter!"

"Oh come on! You're dead; I actually need it to survive!"

Damon shakes his head. "That's not a nice way of putting it."

"Oh please." Elena rolls her eyes. "It's not like it bothers you."

"Touché, but you're still not getting butter." He smirks, and he does that eye-thing – Elena calls it 'flirting' now, since it fits – that should really not get her heart pounding like it is now.

He looks entirely too victorious, and Elena sighs and rolls her eyes again, before she reaches across the table, and kisses Damon straight on the lips.

When she pulls back, he looks strangely dazed – his eyes are all glazed and he's blinking profusely – and Elena smiles with satisfaction. "Can I have some butter now?" she asks, all sweet.

"Huh? Oh yeah, yeah sure," he still sounds dazed, and Elena's smile widens as she takes the butter, and spreads it on her toast.

"So where are we going?" she asks again, eating her toast, and resists the urge to moan at how good the butter tastes.

"We're going to the Champs-Elysees and then tomorrow night I'm taking you out somewhere nice." Damon touches his lips once or twice, before he looks at her. "You kissed me."

Elena nods, amused. "Yes, I did."

"You kissed me," Damon repeats, looking at her as she happily eats her toast. Comprehension suddenly dawns on his beautiful face, and his eyes clear. "You did it so you could get to my butter! You messed with my mind!"

"That I did too," Elena replies, still happy. She stands up, and winks. "See you in twenty minutes – I have to get ready."

"You dirty little minx," she hears Damon murmur as she exits the breakfast room, and resists the urge to laugh.

Oh yes, today is going to be a good day, indeed.

Later on

Damon's walking her down the Champs-Elysees and Elena's tempted to say that it's the prettiest place she's seen in Paris.

They stop at one of the stands for hot wine – un mélange de miel et de chaleur, Damon tells her – and Elena's kind of surprised when Damon hands her a cup too, until she remembers that the legal drinking age in France is eighteen and that she's a year above the age limit here.

She takes a sip of the wine, and smiles.

Yes, she loves Paris.

She and Damon walk further down until they reach the streets full of shops. There's a Sephora and a H&M and when Elena sees a huge building the size of a hotel, her jaw positively drops because the whole building is only full of Louis Vuitton.

Damon offers her to go inside but she refuses; she's already spent too much of his money and besides, she already has the perfect clutch to go with the dress she's wearing to wherever he's taking her tonight. She doesn't need anything else.

They stop to eat lunch at Paul, and the sandwiches are so good there they kind of put McDonalds to shame – almost.

"Come on," Damon tells her. "I saved the best part for last."

They cross another number of streets, until they come up to the famously giant Arc de Triomphe. Damon comes up to the front of line.

"Deux tickets s'il vous plait," he tells the security guard easily.

"Monsieur, je suis désoler, mais il va falloir faire la queue, comme tout le monde. " The guard sounds pissed that Damon cut through the whole line, and Elena can't really blame him. She tightens her grip on Damon's arm.

Suddenly, his eyes are on the guard's, all piercing and persuasive. "Vous aller nous laissez passer. Nous somme des personnes de famille réputée à travers la France, et nous avons le droit de réclamer de passer en priorité. "

Damon steps back slightly from his little compulsion thing, and then the guard blinks once and suddenly he's all smiles and happiness and greets Damon with a fondness and familiarity that wasn't there before.

Elena smiles disbelievingly when they pass. "What did you tell him?" she asks Damon.

He shrugs and his mouth curves up slyly. "I may or may not have said that we're from influential families here."

Elena laughs. She knows she should reprimand him and all, but she's too happy to be angry with Damon at the moment. Responsibility can wait until she gets back home.

Home. Elena hasn't thought of Mystic Falls in a long time, and as the name washes over her, she feels herself break into a cold sweat and her heart starts to pound.

No, she definitely doesn't miss home right now. Not yet – she's not ready.

Then all thoughts of home escape her mind when Damon takes her hand. "Close your eyes," he whispers into her ear. "And trust me."

She smiles and does as she's told, and lets Damon guide her to wherever he wants them to go.

After ten minutes of climbing up stairs, Elena's hit with such a blast of cold wind it takes her breath away. She feels Damon's warm presence just behind her, and whatever air she had left inside of her promptly leaves her when she feels his mouth next to her ear. "You can open them now."

Elena opens her eyes, and she's suddenly struck with a beautiful view of Paris by night. It's only six, but it's dark already, and as far and wide as she can see there are only lights on lights on brilliant lights.

Damon's right behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and his chin resting upon her shoulder comfortably. When he starts pointing out various places to her, Elena feels herself lean in to him she's in awe at everything he tells her. Her eyes are sparkling as she takes in the amazing view.

"Everything looks so beautiful," she tells Damon.

His eyes are on her, and there's a slight smile on his lips. "Yeah," he answers back a beat or two later. "Everything's beautiful."

Everything really is, and Elena's so caught up in the sheer beauty of everything that when Damon spins her back around to face him, she's on her tiptoes and her arms are on his neck just as his hands cup her face and he leans in for the kiss.

It's a magical kiss, and Elena feels fireworks bursting and expanding within her chest.

Day Seven

She's spent most of this day freaking out.

Damon said he was taking her out somewhere special tonight, and so she's gotten the prettiest dress she bought here in Paris. It's a navy blue number that drapes off her right shoulder and leaves it bare, cinches at her waist and finishes off at mid-thigh.

There's red on her lips and on her heels, smoky black on her eyelids and on her clutch, and her nails are painted burgundy to offset the rest of her outfit nicely.

"Vous etes magnifique!" The maid, Marie, tells when she comes in her room. Elena knows enough French to know that she told her that she was amazing, and she smiles and tips her head.

"Merci beaucoup."

Marie nods, and there's a mischievous glint in her eye. "Il vous attend en bas."

Elena feels herself blush, nods and smiles, and walks out the door. Damon's waiting for her downstairs already? Her heart starts to race and she tries to breathe through her nose to calm herself.

Why is she so nervous?

She can't begin to explain to herself why – her and Damon had fooled around a lot during this vacation, but tonight, Elena can't help but feel that there's a sense of…purpose, of seriousness tonight.

She doesn't know how to deal with it.

When she finally squares her shoulders and walks downstairs, Damon is indeed waiting for her. She sees his eyes widen when he sees her, and sees him swallow thickly. Her shoulders relax imperceptibly and she feels the beginnings of a smile on her face – he finds her attractive. In Elena's book, she's passed the test.

"Bonsoir, mademoiselle," Damon whispers languidly into her ear as he extends his arm to her.

Elena takes it easily. "Bonsoir a vous, monsieur," she murmurs back, heart thrumming in her chest. "Ou allons-nous?"

"We're going to a small little restaurant on the Champs-Elysees," he tells her. "It's one of my favorites."

He helps her into the cab and gives him directions, and Elena takes the opportunity to really look at him. Damon's in a fitting black tuxedo, and the whiteness of the shirt underneath makes for a nice physical contrast. It lights up his eyes. The shirt is crisp, and Elena can see the faint outlines of the muscles hugs and feels herself blush.

Damon's always attractive, but tonight, he's especially so.

She wonders where that's going to lead them to.

Later On

The restaurant has a nice, quaint little feeling to it. The music is nice, and the food is really good, and Elena finds that she's enjoying her time out with Damon a lot. Smiling comes easily with him, she realizes, and her heart warms with the notion that he tries to make her smile because he cares.

Halfway through the main course, Damon stands up and extends his hand. "Want to dance?" he offers, and Elena feels a sweet kind of pain run through her when she looks into his eyes. He's smiling, but there's a sort of apprehensiveness in his gestures – like he's afraid he'll be turned down – that makes her put her hand in his firmly, reassuringly. She can never say no to him – not now, not ever – and though it had bothered her before, right now, she wants to make the knowledge known.

Damon's smile widens slightly when she takes his hand and he leads her to the dance floor. There are two or three other couples dancing but Elena barely sees them, her eyes drowning into the warm waters of Damon's. His free hand slides to her waist as hers glides to his shoulder. Their hands intertwine and then, they start to move.

The beat is slow, sensual, and Elena lets Damon transport her; guide her, like he did at the Miss Mystic Falls pageant. Her heart's beating just as fast and her eyes are on Damon but this time, the feelings are the same.

Where Damon was just beginning to feel the first stirrings of love the last time, Elena was just seeing the human under the vampire; the better version of the man that was already standing.

But this time, the only thing Damon sees is Elena, and the only thing Elena sees is Damon, and between that there's only the steady, confident thrum of love.

She's in love with Damon, Elena realizes, and the hand on the shoulder tightens with the thought. She sighs and lets her head drop on his shoulder at the same time that both of his hands come down to wrap around her waist. He swings her to the beat and there are no words said, but the decision is made and there's no turning back.

Damon's mouth skirts her ear and suddenly, she hears him whispering, "Je t'aime, je t'aime à la folie, je t'aime tellement que ça me fait mal, mais c'est un mal qui me rend fou et qui me fait du bien, et je veux que ça ne s'arrête jamais. Elena, je t'aime. "

Elena's heart is beating loud and fast. She wonders what Damon has told her, but her eyes are prickling with tears – he loves her. He's said it so much she's lost count.

But Damon loves her.

And Elena abandons all inhibitions, and lets her burgundy painted nails scrape along his back as she wraps her arms tightly around his neck. Damon presses her closer to him and they're kissing again.

And this time, as her burgundy nails rake across his neck, they mean it. It's not fooling around, it's love and passion and fear and excitement and Damon and Elena.

And Elena smiles into the kiss because it's utterly and amazingly beautiful.

Day Fourteen

Paris iss the best decision that she's ever made.

Unfortunately it's a decision that wasn't meant to last.

Elena's sad to leave yes, but a part of her is looking forward to getting back to Mystic Falls. She's missed her friends and Jenna and Jeremy and she can't wait to get back to them.

"Ready?" Damon asks her as he comes to get her from the salon. She steps towards him just as he comes forward and they greet each other with a kiss. He looks at her hard and smiles. "I like your new style," he tells her. "Very sexy."

Elena rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. She's been smiling more often her than she's had in a long while. "Of course you would," she replies.

"That's kind of the point, I hope," he says as he wraps an arm around her waist. "You've got to be sexy for your boyfriend."

"That's why I went for this and not for that thing the guy wanted at first."

Damon seems to recall the suggestion and winces, dropping a kiss to her temple. "I knew there was a reason I picked you."

"Gee thanks." They're walking together towards the cab, ready, finally, to get back to the town they belong in.

Just as they step in to go to the airport, Damon looks at Elena, and looks at her intensely, like he's trying to commit every single of her features to memory. Finally he smiles.

"You're ready for home."


Author's Note: This normally, should conclude the series, but many of you seemed to like the idea of Caroline narrating the epilogue, so yes, there's going to be a fifth part to this :D

This chapter was actually a blast to write, since there's so much French in it. French is actually my first language (English is my second) so yes, this was a real kick.

Feel free to PM me if you want exact translations of the French I put in there. Normally, there's nothing a good translator can't give you, but if you feel like the translation's missing something, just hit me up and I'll gladly translate for you the whole French parts. :D Also, some readers suggested nails as a theme – good catch on that one, guys!

Anybody wonder what Elena did at the salon? Never fear, I'll make sure Caroline notices first thing next chapter XD Just promise you won't kill me for it?

Thoughts and reviews are very welcome! Much love!