Chapter Six


Written for the Secret Santa over at the Damon_Elena LJ Comm.


Elena looked up in surprise at the knock on her front door. She pressed the pause button on her movie, glancing at the clock. 7:20. It was 7:20 P.M. on a Saturday night. Who on earth was at her door?

She rose hesitantly, approaching the door. "Who is it?" she called.

"Bella Lagosi," was the response.

Damon.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she hurried to the door, opening it to reveal Damon on her front porch. He looked devastatingly handsome in his jeans, black t-shirt, and black leather jacket, staring at her with his blue eyes shining against his pale skin and black hair.

"Damon," she breathed. "What are you doing here?"

He peered past her, into the house. "Alone on a Saturday night, Elena? This is just pathetic." He stepped past her and into the house, inviting himself in.

She shut the door behind him, still stunned. "What are you…?" she asked slowly.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, sliding out of his jacket. He tossed it onto the couch and turned to her. "I'm here to keep you company." He walked into the living room. "What're we watching? Ooo—popcorn."

And then, to her astonishment, Damon sat down on the couch right beside where she had been sitting, snatched her bowl of popcorn from the table, and propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. The picture of casual.

She slowly joined him, resuming her previous position. Damon was so close to her that their sides pressed together, and she felt strangely aware of him as they sat side-by-side, watching the romantic comedy she had selected.

When the movie was over Damon stretched and sat up, wincing. "That was horrible," he declared, as if he had just tasted something bad. "Really, Elena. What was that crap?"

"It was romantic!" Elena protested, kicking him lightly.

"That wasn't romantic. That was…" He shook his head. "That was just awful. Next time I'll pick the movie." He looked into the bag of rental movies, cringed, and picked up the remote. He began flipping through the on-demand movies, lighting up at a particularly gruesome action movie.

"Damon, no!" Elena protested, when he started to buy it. "No way."

"You made me sit through that garbage," he returned, holding the remote away from her as she reached for it. "Turn-about is fair play, Elena."

"I didn't make you do anything!" she argued, reaching for the remote as he held it above his head. "You invited yourself over and made yourself comfortable. Damon, no! I'm not watching that!"

"You invited me over," Damon corrected, switching the remote to his other hand when her fingers brushed it. She pushed off of his chest for more leverage, trying to grab a hold of it. "You just didn't use so many words. And we're watching it, Elena."

"I'll just go up to my room," she threatened, kneeling between his legs to reach higher.

"I'll carry you back down," he returned. She watched in dismay as the television suddenly flickered with the order confirmation screen, turning to look down at Damon from only inches away. He smiled prettily. "I win."

Suddenly all-too-aware of their position, she pushed off of him, sitting beside him on the couch. Her cheeks felt flushed, and her heart wouldn't stop racing.

Damon suddenly leaned over her, his face just inches from hers. Elena's breath caught in her throat as she stared into his blue eyes, frozen. He grinned devilishly. "Did you just realize how unbelievably sexy I am?" he teased.

She scowled and pushed him away. "In your dreams," she growled at him.

"Every night, Elena," he assured her, leaving an arm around the back of the couch. "Every night."


"So? What are you wearing?"

She rolled her eyes as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "Haha, Damon, very funny," Elena returned dryly. She stretched out her shoulders, her body sore after the long night they'd had. Damon had picked her up at seven, even though he had said he would be there at 6:30, then whisked her off to a movie and dinner. She paused, straightening as she heard the car door slam and his footsteps on the gravel. "Home now?"

"Yup. Safe and sound. And alone. You're the worst date ever."

She pursed her lips to keep the smile out of her voice before she spoke. "You're the one who couldn't even spring for a decent meal."

"We went to the Grill!" he protested.

"So fancy," she mock-scoffed, unable to stop her grin.

"Ungrateful and a prude. You really are the worst date ever."

She heard the sound of his shoes hit the floor as he tossed them onto the floor, then the unmistakable sound of him dropping onto his bed. "Taking a girl out and expecting some sort of 'payment' in return makes you the worst date ever," she returned primly, switching off her light and crawling into her bed.

"Makes me a guy," she heard him say gruffly.

"Chauvinist," she shot back.

"Tease," he muttered. She heard shifting on his side of the phone. "Okay. Tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at six."

"Six?" she repeated, her heart picking up speed. "Where are we going?"

"Now don't be impatient and spoil the surprise, Elena. Wear something nice. But don't wear something nice under it and be all temptatious."

She blushed. "As if you'd get to see it."

"Minx."