Three hours later, Damon is dressed in brand-new clothes - Pink Floyd t-shirt, black jeans, expensive ray bans from a specialty store in the city - his hair wet from the shower, sock-less and lounging on the bed. Absently, he shoves another raspberry scone into his mouth, chews, swallows with a sip of 'soda', something fizzy and exciting that reminds him of kissing Elena. Next up is a bite of his beloved chocolate bar. More soda. Half of a cream-cheese-frosted bagel for good measure.

"Elena," he calls towards the bathroom, mouth still full of scone. "You almost ready? If you don't hurry up, I'm going to eat all of this human food. And probably throw up. On your shoes."

"I'm coming, I'm coming, relax!" Elena calls. And sure enough, not three more seconds pass until she is pulling open the bathroom door, stepping out into the bedroom, suddenly shy, looking at him from under her lashes. "What do you think?"

Jaw dropping, Damon scrambles into a sitting position, taking in every inch of her. She's wearing a jewel-blue sundress that exactly matches her eyes and white strappy heels. It is simple, but stunning, beautiful, her. Pride rushes through him at the idea that he chose this for her, quickly followed by a rush of desire as he thinks about the Victoria's Secret paraphernalia under it.

There's something secret and intimate about knowing the color lace on her bra. It makes him launch from the bed and grab her around the waist, spinning her around in a few tight circles. "You're gorgeous," he whispers in her ear, and she laughs, her breath stuttering and warm on his neck.

Before he falls into his Elena-haze and forgets that he needs to say something to her, Damon deposits her on the bed, next to his buffet of packaged food and half-empty drink bottles. Elena has the decency to look a bit disappointed at being set down, but takes a swig of his soda and makes herself comfortable.

"You and all the food, Damon," she giggles, waving around a raspberry scone. "I'm starting to think that you've gone soft."

"Me, soft? Ludicrous," Damon smiles, tugging one of her high-heel clad feet into his lap and trying to tickle her toes around the shoes. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with being into this wonderful creation called chocolate." He taps her toe with the pointer finger of his free hand, shoving half of his candy bar into his mouth with the other.

After the sweetness of the chocolate has melted and Elena's toes are her own property again, Damon clears his throat, trying to get serious. He has to ask her now. Has to. Because if none of this is real, he might as well let it end now, rather than spinning it out any longer.

"Elena?"

She looks up at him, blue eyes bright and sparkly. Adorable. Sweet. Perfect. But his? Maybe. Or maybe not. "Okay, I'm just gonna come right out and say it," he decides out loud, getting up from the bed, starting his customary difficult-situation-pacing. He turns to her, holding out his hands like a balanced scale. "You have two choices." Elena only nods, looking resigned as she takes another sip of soda.

"I can take you home today. You go back to Stefan and we forget that anything happened here."

Her cute little nose wrinkles in displeasure. "What's the other option?"

Surprised that she would want another option, even after all that's gone on between them, Damon is struck dumb for a minute, thinking. Then he whisks back in front of her, pulling her to the edge of the bed, hands on her knees. "We continue this little road trip," Damon says slowly, measuring his words.

She pauses for a moment, considering. "How long?"

"Until you decide…" he trails off, searching for the right words, "…what you want." Or more accurately, who you want, Damon thinks.

Silent, she stares at him, head tilted just slightly to the side, considering. Yes, she's thinking, he can see it in in her eyes, in the way she leans subconsciously into him, bent towards him like a refracted ray of light.

And then she is gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him with her as she falls back onto the bed. "Yes," she whispers, voice warm and quiet against his ear. He conforms to the shape of her below him like a Memory Foam mattress in reverse, stretching until he covers every inch of her with every inch of him.

Then he is nothing, nothing but a string of nerves lit up like Christmas lights, pounding heart, flesh and blood, breathing hard and fast into her hair as her fingernails scratch down his back. Human and small and vulnerable, he melts against her, losing that signature sharp-edged attitude and emotional body-armor. Like this, they are perfect for each other. Just he and Elena.

"Tell me this is real," Elena murmurs against his collarbone, teasing the skin there with her lips and the hard edges of teeth.

"Yes," he agrees, hardly aware of what he's saying.

"And tell me how you feel about me."

"God, I -" he breaks off for a moment, and her hands and mouth still. The world waits while his mind finally makes a coherent, fully conscious and sober decision to say the words, "- I love you."

"I didn't hear you," Elena teases, pushing slightly on his chest until he sits up enough for her to tear his shirt over his head.

"I love you," he says, louder this time, and her fingers trace the contours of every ridge of muscle, down his chest and across his stomach, making him shiver as her nails brush the waistband of his too-low jeans. She is teasing him now, and like any spoiled teenage boy, he is pissed off. He wants her and he wants her now. His instincts propel him on as he - very carefully - nips at her earlobe with his teeth tucked inside his lips. Again, louder, since she is apparently still unsatisfied - "I love you."

"Still not loud enough."

"I fucking love you, Elena Gilbert!" Damon yells, voice bouncing off the walls and back towards them a thousand times over. She stares up at him, pale-faced and surprised at the animal intensity behind the words, the darkness that he knows must be lurking behind his eyes. Because the truth is very simple - loving her goes against his nature. He is the predator. She is his prey. Circle of life, the food chain, so on and so forth, as it has been since the beginning of time. Vampires don't need love. Sometimes they chose mates, fostered relationships, yes, but their instinctive human social instinct was wiped out by the Change. And Damon, Damon had never really cared.

But…he's learning to, learning right now. Unknowing, Elena is his teacher, a model for him to follow, and all this time, he's been staggering after her like a baby taking its first steps. Affection he learns from her approving smiles and tender hugs. Friendship, from how she treats Matt and Bonnie and Meredith. He sees her dedication and her loyalty, her fierce protective instincts for those who surround her.

And love?

Love, he learned from her and Stefan.

"I love you," he says again, quiet this time. "And I'm just starting to realize how very messed up it is, but I don't care, because it's true." Probably because she doesn't know what to say, she is kissing him again.

And he is letting her.

Hands slide on skin, and he feels warm and slick inside, like the chocolate melted to its wrapper in his back pocket. His jeans are on the floor, even though he'd just put them on two hours ago. Cotton boxers grow acquainted with Victoria's Secret satin, Elena's pretty dress on the back of a chair across the room -

- Vampires don't do this -

It doesn't matter. Hipbones rub together through negligible amounts of clothing, probably bruising, but neither of them care. Breathing in tandem, hearts skipping beats, she pulls him down to her, catches his lips with a fierceness that shows she is just as hungry as he is.

"I don't know how long -" she is trying to speak, words breaking into nothingness around her racing breaths, " - how long I wanted you, but - you were so -" his teeth catch the side of her neck now, less gentle than he should be, but not drawing blood, " - cold, and I was so scared that -"

"That I'd kill you?" He manages around heavy breathing, his tone bitter, even as his lips learn how to follow the curve of her shoulder.

"No," she says, chest heaving against the confines of red lace, "that you wouldn't ever let me in."

Her voice is earnest, honest, and he can't remember a time when anyone was as interested in him as she is, as she has been. Not his father, not Katherine, certainly not Stefan… Something breaks in his chest, and he clutches her closer, hands in her hair and mouth claiming hers with a neediness that knocks him breathless.

The rest of their clothes join the growing pile on the floor.

God, she is beautiful, and there is nowhere left to hide, no defenses, absolutely nothing getting in between Damon and Elena. For an unprecedented moment, Damon has no clue what to do. Elena certainly does. They tangle like a pretzel, and he pretends like he knows how this sort of thing works, pretends that this is normal, casual, that he knows exactly what goes where and for how long. Matched up, overheating, skin-on-skin and bone to bone, there is a pause.

Elena's deep blue eyes lock onto his, and she sees through him, just like always.

He takes a breath. "Elena, I've never…"

Enough is said. She nods, understanding, knowing somehow with her special Elena brand of mind reading, that never means never, not just in this lifetime. And somehow she seems to know that he isn't quite…ready. He hardly understands it himself, but he's glad to have her on his same page.

Slow, meticulous, they get up, comb windswept hair and redress, sneaking not-so-subtle glances out of the corners of their eyes, touching casually, like they've been at this routine of not-quite-getting-there for years. New clothes are packed into the duffle bag he bought, belongings are collected, inventoried, a mismatch of Damon and Elena items going into the same bag easy, but with a significance that makes his heart clench. They are in this together, now.

Checkout goes smoothly, as does the ten minute ride through traffic out of the city. Elena holds his hand. For all the skin-sharing and the Big Almost from just an hour earlier, the casual touch makes Damon's heart pound.

Out of the city and back on the highway, Damon pulls off onto the first exit that promises Mobile gasoline for his beloved car. He pumps the gas, and Elena offers him a quick kiss before darting into the gas station's main pavilion, on a mission to retrieve brochures for any surrounding attractions, snacks, soda, and most important of all, chocolate.

When he is done with the gas, he swipes his credit card, pays, and parks the car in the nearest parking space before jogging into the store after Elena. When he enters, she is already half-way finished checking out, and she waves her fingers in his direction. He is at the counter, arm around her waist before he knows what is happening. The man at the register puts his eyes back where they belong, on the items Elena is buying, and not on the generous v of her dress.

After Elena pays - with the cash he gave her, of course - Damon scoops up all the bags on the counter, excepting the one that Elena insists on taking, the one he allows her to carry after she mutters something about 'female items' under her breath.

Damon holds the door for Elena, hand on her lower back -

"Have a great honeymoon, kiddies!" The man at the register calls after them.

Damon tosses a wink and a shimmering smile over his shoulder.

"Oh, we certainly will."