A/N: Let's see, what does one say when the review count is DOUBLE, MOTHER FUCKING DOUBLE from what I've ever received on any other story and they are all long and crazy enthusiastic and just make me want to buy you all puppies? I DON'T KNOW, BUT I LOVE YOU ALL TOO MUCH!
And I love my bestie and beta (in that order), Trogdor19. A dragon of awesomeness who swims with sharks and hacks my shit up because yeah, she's better and smarter, and then lets me pout and then she gives me lots of internet cookies. I must have my cookies. I am cookie monster. And then she writes fantastic chapters for In Time We Trust that make me pout even more because once again, she's a rockstar and FUCK, there is no winning next to her. Go read her shit and you'll see what I mean. *pouts and munches cookie*
Enjoy!
Chapter 4: The Scent of Regret
God, this fucking sucks.
I spent forty-five minutes handcuffed in the back of that damn cop car, breathing in the smell of ass and stale coffee while they searched my Charger. Finding nothing, no surprise to me. I haven't had anything illegal in my car in years, to the disappointment of Barney Fife.
We finally got to the station and after they practiced their skills in contemporary art by processing my fingerprints, it took another two hours before they could get the warrant they needed to draw my blood, because someone refused to cooperate. And even then, their magic poking stick operator was AWOL. They finally scored another one, an eighteen year old trainee who is authorized by the great state of Texas to steal my blood, and what did they find once they got the results back? I'm not drunk.
No fucking shit, genius.
Night ain't over yet though, even though I'm pretty sure it's closer to ten A.M. by this point. They still haven't released me, but only because I think the cop is trying to figure out what he's going to do. He can't get me on a DWI, but since I refused to take the Breathalyzer or Field Sobriety Test, technically they can still suspend my license for 180 days. 'Cause that's exactly what I need right now.
Although it might not even matter because I am also 98% sure I just lost my job.
Thanks, Austin PD.
I was supposed to be at work at nine. If I don't show, and I don't call in, I get booted. I may be able to talk my way out of it, but with the HR bullshit on top of this, I don't see me saying to Jeremy, "I no-called/no-showed because I was in jail," and for his response to be clapping me on the shoulder and telling me to take the rest of the week off, with pay, because everyone knows this crap blows.
I blow out a breath and scrub a hand through my hair, leaning against the cement wall that is probably giving me diphtheria through my shirt while I pointedly ignore the other winners of the night who have taken to calling me "Precious." Like that's not cause for some serious nightmares.
Hindsight is a fucking bitch.
"Salvatore," the cop says, finally.
He unlocks the door and I get up and follow him back to his desk, and when I take a seat in a crappy little chair across from him, he looks pissed.
Sucks for him, good for me.
"We're releasing you, and I'm not charging you with a DWI."
"Goody," I smirk and he glares at me.
"I'm keeping your license because of your refusal to take the Breathalyzer or Standard Field Sobriety Test," he tells me and pushes a stack of papers across his desk in my direction. "This is a DIC 25 Notice of Suspension, which means it is your temporary permit to drive until told otherwise. You have 15 days to request an ALR hearing, and then a judge can decide whether to keep you on the road. If you don't request your hearing within that time frame, your license is automatically suspended 40 days from your arrest date. We clear?"
I grin and piss him off more, because I can't help it. "Where's my car?"
"Towed," he says far too pleased, flipping a business card towards me. He also slides over my wallet and my work badge, and my phone which is delightfully dead. "Get out of my building, Salvatore."
I take my stuff and stand, and I almost blow a kiss at him just because I'll get to see his pretty face in two months when he has to show up for my license hearing. The best part is, he'll get to watch when they don't suspend my license because I know the law, and he made more mistakes during my arrest than a first grader would've and there's no way this shit is going to stick.
It's going to be expensive, and a pain in the ass, but it's not going to stick.
I head outside and breathe fresh air, rolling my neck and shoulders. Christ, I'm exhausted.
Now comes the fun part.
My car is behind a locked gate and was towed by someone that probably doesn't own a toothbrush, I have no idea how much it's going to cost to pay for the haul and the storage but I'm guessing it won't be less than dinner for the next month, and I have no way to get there. I can't call Ric because I actually don't know his number thanks to him being labeled Hairy Dumbass in my cell phone, which is dead, and he's at work anyways.
I head over to a payphone, thanking my old school stars that I carry change on me and I don't even know why I do it, but I always have, and I dial her number.
She answers cheerfully, and that makes me feel like even more of an asshole.
I blow out a breath and make my voice light and chipper when I say, "Hey, Mom. Guess where I am?"
I take one last drag before I snuff out the cigarette I bummed off a bum when she pulls up outside the police station. An hour later.
She doesn't say anything when I get in her car, which is pretty much an olfactory-induced acid flashback thanks to the familiar aroma of Aqua Net and melted packs of Trident gum, but it won't take her long.
But instead of getting a lecture like I'm still in grade school, I get one hell of a glare before she smacks me upside the head.
"What the fuck, Mom?"
"Don't use that language or I'll wash your mouth out with soap," she snaps at me and I roll my eyes.
And because she swings from one extreme to the other like a high-speed pendulum, she immediately commences with leaning over the console to hug her arms around my neck, petting and kissing my hair like I'm six.
"Okay, okay," I soothe and pat her arm because the woman worries enough to give a valium addict anxiety, and she squeezes me once more before she lets go.
"Damon," she scolds and I wince, "you are too big to be getting in trouble like this."
I sigh and look out the window. "I know," I admit quietly.
Her nails comb through my hair and I hate that it feels good, because she's always, always done this. Whenever I was sick as a kid or when I would get hurt, I'd always fall asleep with her doing that.
"You look tired, baby," she says quietly and it bugs the crap out of me that she still calls me that, but she's never going to stop and weirdly, I think it makes her feel better.
"I am tired. I've been in jail all night and now I need to go get my car and get to work."
"You can't take the day off?"
"No, Mom, I can't take the day off. Can we please go?" I ask and gesture towards the police station that we're still sitting in front of.
"There's no need to be snippy with me."
"I'm not-" I start, then stop when I see that her eyes are a little red, like she's been crying again. They're also puffy like she's not getting enough sleep either.
Dammit.
After all these years, she's still struggling with it, still having nightmares. And then she has to deal with me putting her through this crap. It's not like she has a husband to take care of her. The woman hasn't been on a date since the night the strip turned pink.
The last thing she needs is her only son being a fuck up.
Guilt tugs at the corner of my lips and my shoulders, but I look her squarely in the eye. "I'm sorry," I say sincerely.
"Okay," she nods, and reaches into the back seat, just like that. I almost want to laugh. She pulls out a Tupperware container full of freshly made scrambled eggs and sausage patties and biscuits and hands it to me with a smile. "Where are we going?"
I hand her the business card for the tow company, trading her for a fork she produced out of nowhere and start digging into scrambled eggs, realizing a minute later that we're not moving yet. "The gas pedal is the one next to the brake," I smirk at her and she yanks on her seatbelt, letting it snap back into place.
"These tires don't move unless the seatbelts are all clicked. You know I had that safety feature installed years ago."
I snort because I swear to God, the woman probably thinks I still believe that.
"What about the back seat ones?" I grin and she steals my fork. "Hey!"
"Put on your seatbelt," she growls and I widen my eyes sarcastically, doing as she asks.
"Can I have my fork back, please?"
She hands it over and I shake my head.
"So," she starts a minute later, finally pulling away from the station, and I can't believe it took her this long to ask. "What did you get arrested for?"
"Bullshit," I mutter around a warm biscuit I know she made from scratch because she put cinnamon in it, and she smacks my shoulder.
"You got in trouble for having sex in public, didn't you?" she admonishes and I choke and sputter.
"Jesus Christ, Mom! I'm trying to eat!"
"You're too much like your father," she says and I cock an eyebrow at her. "What? I knew him…"
"Yeah, for two whole minutes."
"It wasn't two minutes," she says and I scoff. "It was a glorious fifteen," she winks at me and I groan, pretending to gag.
"There's something wrong with you…" I mumble.
"Yeah, it's called having a twenty-four year old son who never spends enough time with me-"
"I see you all the time!"
"And won't get married, or even try to find a nice girl to date so I can have a chance at having some grandchildren before I die, and instead, gets arrested for whipping out his pee-pee in public!"
"Mom!"
"Eat your breakfast, I'm not done yelling at you," she says and I roll my eyes. "Now where was I? Oh yes, I thought you quit smoking? It's disgusting and bad for you and I don't like it. And do you know…" she continues on and I tune her out.
I know from experience that she can tirade for a while without ever taking a breath, and I think she took a class in how to do it while still being able to function normally. Because she's somehow managing to weave through traffic without missing a beat or a light, and navigate us to a tow yard I've never even been to, simply based off an address on a business card. I've watched her bake and decorate a four tiered wedding cake while reaming me out for getting suspended from school for fighting, and she never smudged a single stenciled rose or vine, not even when she stopped to point her little paintbrush at me. It's borderline impressive.
A few minutes later I finally decide to spare myself anymore torture by placing my hand on her arm, and when she glances at me, I bat my eyelashes at her.
"Thank you for cooking me breakfast, and for picking me up. Best mom ever," I smile sweetly and she melts like a champ.
"You're welcome," she says quietly and I go back to eating in peace. "Now use that charm on a nice girl so I can have some grandbabies!"
I head inside the building and it is now a sunny three P.M. after dealing with the tow company that completely fucked my rear bumper, because they had no concept of how to tow my car and had the nerve to pull the "It was like that when we got there…" bullshit.
Then it was spending an hour waiting to meet with a lawyer so he could set the date for my ALR hearing so I don't lose my damn license, and nearly having a heart attack at how much this shit is going to limit me buying the rainbow colored drinks that all those pretty girls like.
Looks like me and my hand are going to be getting nice and cozy.
I finally got home and showered and changed, but I haven't slept in something like 30 hours and yeah, I look it.
I swing by Jeremy's desk, but he's conveniently missing, so I head towards my own to wait out the long minutes until I can find out whether I need to bother coming in tomorrow.
And that's when I see the dead last thing I ever expected.
Elena is here, picking at her salad like she's on her lunch break, and when she sees me her eyes grow large and shocked and dammit, what is she even doing here? She doesn't work on Wednesdays, and she could've picked up a shift for all I know, but why did it have to be today when I wanted to get fired far, far away from her pitying gaze?
I take a breath and continue towards my desk because honestly, I don't know what else to do. My heart is pounding and Jesus, am I sweating? Great. As if last night wasn't bad enough after all the shit I said to her, and then having the pleasure of the whole conversation repeating in my head like the Small World song while I was behind bars, but now I have to see her? And yes, I know that I need to apologize, but I thought I had another day to figure out how I was going to muster that without coming off like an even bigger dick.
Karma, you are a dirty, dirty skank.
I guess we'll add Elena's miraculous appearance to the list currently titled: Ways My Life Sucks.
I finally get to my desk and sit down, turning in my chair to jerk my chin at Ric in a half-assed hello.
"Oversleep?" Ric taunts and Elena blazes into life, throwing her salad down on her desk and jumping up from her chair.
"I…um…I need to talk to you," she says nervously and I sigh.
"Look, can we not do this now?" I say and Ric arches an eyebrow at me before turning away, like he's not listening to every single word. Real convincing, buddy.
She ducks her head and tucks her hair behind her ear, and her eyes dart to me. "Damon, I really need to tell you something," she says quietly.
"Okay, I get that, but this isn't exactly the place for us to be having that conversation," I say seriously and she huffs, spinning on her heel and walking towards the break room.
I groan and let my head fall back against the chair, closing my eyes for two seconds before I lug myself up.
"Way to stay strong, man," Ric says with his back to me, and I flick his head as I pass by.
She's pacing in the break room when I get there a minute later, looking uncomfortable as all hell.
"Okay," I start and cross my arms. "I know you owe me about two right hooks and kick in the balls for what I said, but really, Elena-"
"I saw you," she says and my brow furrows.
"What do you mean 'you saw me'?"
"Last night, after you left," she says and shifts her weight. "I went to go to the store. And I saw you, you know, on the side of the road..."
Son of a bitch.
I blow out a breath and turn away from her, shaking my head.
"Are you okay?" she asks quietly and I scoff.
"Great. Just peachy."
"I bet," she mumbles. "Look, I'm really mad at you for what you said, but I just…"
"You just what, Elena?" I ask, turning back around to face her. "Want to gloat? Go ahead."
"I'm not gloating, Damon."
I tilt my head at her. "Did you call the cops on me?" I ask plainly, trying to keep the majority of the accusation out of my tone, but she still rears back as if I raised my hand to her.
"Of course not!"
"Okay," I nod. "Well, if you don't mind…" I say and start to leave, but I don't get a single step away before her voice reels me back.
"You need to go home."
"Excuse me?" I say incredulously, rounding on her.
She stands a little taller and sighs at me. "I didn't think you'd make it in today, when I saw what was happening. And with what you told me last night, I didn't want you to get into any more trouble. So I told Jeremy that I'm working your shift and you're working for me on Friday."
I gape at her.
There's no fucking way I just heard that.
With everything I did, what I said to her, and now she's trying to help me?
No…something's not right.
People don't just do this…
"Damon?" she prods and I blink a few times.
"Yeah, sorry, I just…didn't get much sleep last night and I think I'm hearing things."
"Yeah," she says softly and looks down. "When did you get out?"
"This morning," I say automatically, still trying to process what she said.
"Were you…" she starts and looks around, her voice dropping to a whisper, "drunk?"
"Yeah…no," I correct. "They thought I was."
"Oh," she says, like she's relieved. "Is that why you got pulled over?"
I smile and shake my head. "Domestic dispute," I tell her and she sucks in a breath.
"Damon, I swear I didn't…it must have been my neighbors, they report every time I close a kitchen cabinet too hard and-"
"I know," I tell her and she looks down at her hands twisting around in front of her. I wait until she looks back at me before I jerk my chin at her and say, "My fault anyways."
"Still…"
"It's fine," I tell her and she purses her lips worriedly.
"Are you in trouble?"
I chuckle. "I'm always in trouble, Elena," I tell her and she cracks a hint of a smile.
"Kinda seems that way."
"Eh," I shrug, "good for my image. Fits the whole bad boy thing I've got going on."
She daintily covers her mouth when a laugh sneaks out, and I can't help but smile.
The day is definitely looking up.
She pulls her hand away, saying smugly, "More like juvenile delinquent."
"I am not that young!" I protest. "And I'll have you know, that was my first experience with handcuffs."
"Somehow, I find that really hard to believe."
I clear my throat, and I know I shouldn't…
Fuck it. It's too good to resist.
"Okay, you got me," I say honestly, "at least the ones that don't come out of a purse with a matching whip."
She gasps and blushes, and I choke back my laugh.
Scandalized is a good look on her.
"Can't believe you just said that," she whispers and I shrug one shoulder.
I stay quiet as I let my eyes steal a full sweep over her: rose-pink lips and long silky brown hair, an emerald cardigan over a white blouse and gray-pinstripe pants, the pointed toes of her one-inch heels peeking out from under the hem.
She looks classy and put together, and something tells me she was probably up at six this morning, getting ready to come into work on her day off so she could cover for me.
The guilt clamps my throat closed, and all I can think about is the way she looked up at me with her eyes sparkling with tears, furious and embarrassed when I made fun of the fact that she's unmarried.
And for the life of me, I can't figure out why she's single. She's considerate and gorgeous and smart, and I can't imagine what she's like when she lets the walls come down. I know there's some fun in there, I've seen it, and she doesn't even like me enough, or trust me enough, to truly be herself around me.
And why should she?
"There are a lot of things I can't believe I say," I tell her earnestly and she swallows, looking down. "Elena?" I say gently and she risks meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry."
She nods. "Thank you," she whispers and for some reason, it feels like a knot just unwound in my stomach that I didn't realize was there until she said that. "You were upset. I would have been too."
"It's no excuse," I tell her and she shifts her weight.
She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. "Well, you can make it up to me by going home and getting some rest. Because, no offense, but you look awful," she says and I chuckle. "And don't be late on Friday. It's eleven to ten, which I know is a late end time for you and if you had plans or something I'm sorry-"
"It's fine," I smile at her. "No plans."
She cocks an eyebrow at me and I return it playfully.
"Okay, well, just don't be late and Jeremy should be in a meeting right now but if he sees you just tell him you forgot something at your desk or whatever and I need to get back," she rattles off in one quick breath.
She starts to hurry away from me and I reach out and snag her hand, her whole body locking in place.
Her gaze drops down to where we're connected before very slowly, her eyes begin to trail up my arm, climbing steadily over my shoulder and past the fold of my collar, tracing the line of my jaw and my mouth until her eyes finally meet mine.
"Thank you," I tell her sincerely, and I can't help but notice the exaggerated rise and fall of her shoulders with how hard she's breathing. I squeeze her hand and sweep my thumb over her skin, and she's so soft. I swallow, unable to stop my voice dropping further when I tell her, "I would have lost my job if you hadn't done what you did, and I don't take it lightly."
She bites her lip and looks down again, a wisp of her hair falling forward, and it takes everything I have to keep myself in place instead of tucking it back in. Especially when I catch the breath of perfume it carried, and the mix of dark berries and vanilla is intoxicating.
A little sweet, a little sultry, and certainly a surprise…
It's so…Elena.
I clear my throat, but it doesn't begin to help the fogginess in my head because it's going to take something a lot stronger than that to make me forget the smell of her and how it's soaking into me like a mist of beautiful and God, what am I doing?
The corner of those pink lips turns up, rich brown eyes flashing up to mine and she looks so pure, so delicate and I can't shake the thought that I shouldn't be touching her.
Not with my hands.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she tells me quietly and I nod, letting her go.
I watch her walk away until she turns the corner, disappearing from my view, and my focus shifts down to my hand: monumentally confused as to why it suddenly feels so cold.
A/N: AHHH! The feels-changes are a comin'! Can't tell you guys how much I enjoyed your reviews for the last chapter, especially since a lot of you were betting on a Stefan-sabotage. Y'all are so much smarter and funnier than I am! But alas, Stefan was not our culprit here. Can't wait to hear what you guys think about Damon's mom and Elena coming to the rescue, and keep the guesses for future chapters rolling in! Honestly, I have written way ahead so I can spend dumb amounts of time revising and making sure these chapters are *hopefully* perfect for you, but I love hearing your guesses and it just tickles me orange when y'all get 'em right! (Though I'm not saying anything, and I always have a surprise or two up my sleeve ;)
Can't wait to see you next chapter, when we get a little bromance and some dancing, and get to hang out with another fave character from the show that got killed off way too soon in my loud, obnoxious opinion.
-Goldnox