AN: Thank you, ye faithful reviewers! Thank you, wonderful beta!

Just a little rant about the season 3 teaser. Those silly writers! They've stolen my scene right from under my nose - I guess you all know which one I mean - It's coming up in a few chapters, but I solemnly swear it was already written!

At the moment, Elena is still drowning herself with Damon's secret (or not so secret perhaps) stash ;) Enjoy!

A few hours later Elena was lounging on the couch in front of the empty, dark fireplace. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there, occasionally taking a swig from the bourbon she'd appropriated out of Damon's supply. It was a good thing he kept the liquor cabinet properly stocked, she mused. And he had the good stuff… after downing almost half a bottle of bourbon, she was starting to get an appreciation for the taste; or at least for its mind-numbing capacities.

With a slightly unsteady hand, she poured herself another glass, and put the bottle down with a little too much force.

As she sat there, cradling the glass in her lap, she felt rather than heard someone enter the parlor, and she turned her head slowly, forcing her eyes to focus on … wait! Two Damon Salvatores? She couldn't help thinking that that would surely be too much for the female population of Mystic Falls (including herself) to handle.

Damon was quite surprised to find Elena back at the boardinghouse, looking slightly the worse for wear. Her hair had mostly released itself from the ponytail and her high-collared Chinese top was unbuttoned a ways, exposing her neck and quite a bit of cleavage. His eyes lingered there for a minute, and before he could stop himself, the thought had already popped into his head that she made a truly magnificent picture, despite her evident disarray, or maybe just because of it? It made her appear less severe, more accessible somehow…

He frowned when his eyes fell on the bottle of bourbon next to her on the floor, and he noticed she was nursing a nearly full glass in her lap. By her unfocused look, it obviously wasn't her first either… Why was she getting herself drunk, all alone in the empty house? And where the hell was Stefan?

Approaching her slowly, he said gently, "Hey, Elena. You do know that you're underage for drinking this kind of stuff, right? It's quite a bit stronger than lemonade."

"Uh huh, I know," Elena nodded solemnly and made an effort to stand up. When she couldn't immediately get her legs to support her, she held up the glass and told him seriously, "But this is good stuff!"

"I'll just bet it is," Damon smiled ruefully when he noticed which bottle she had unearthed. It was one all the way from the back of the liquor cabinet, a damn fine bourbon he had been keeping for a very special occasion. Oh, well.

He extended a hand to her and pulled her up from the couch. She wobbled a bit, but as she didn't fall over, he let go of her. Then he pried her fingers from the glass, and said reasonably, "Come on, Elena. Give me that, and I'll take you home."

"N… no! That is mine! Just get your own," Elena pouted, trying in vain to determine which glass of the two glasses she saw Damon holding was the right one. Her hand waved through the air aimlessly, missing the glass by a long shot. She did, however, get her hand on Damon's chest, and, having found something stable and unmoving, held on to it.

Damon looked down at her, wondering why she'd been drinking like that. It wasn't like Elena at all. He supposed it wouldn't do him any good to ask her what she was about. She was probably way too inebriated to remember anything beyond her name, but still, he cupped her cheek with one hand as he asked her softly, "Why are you sampling my best liquor, Elena?"

Elena looked up at him with big eyes, "Wanna forget. All Stefan's fault. Stupid letter!" She mumbled inarticulately.

Damon's eyebrows lifted in surprise. He was lost in thought for a moment: he'd known of course that there was tension between them about the salsa dancing, but he hadn't realized it had gone that far already. Had she and Stefan had a fight? Had Stefan seen more than he ought to? It did seem as if he'd found out about the registration too… Had Stefan driven Elena off with his jealousy? Or had Elena confessed to Stefan about kissing him? What letter was she talking about?

Suddenly he became aware of hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

He glanced down to see Elena squinting at him, clumsily trying to undo his buttons. She wasn't having much success, but he asked anyway, "What are you doing?"

"S… a stupid shirt…" Elena mumbled, giving the buttons the evil eye for refusing to cooperate with her.

Damon bit back a smile. A stupid shirt, was it?

"Why is that, Elena?" He asked softly, uncomfortably noticing she had succeeded in undoing at least one button already. Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, she resolutely started working on the next one.

He thought she would ignore his question, but she didn't; what she answered made him tense though.

"Wanna see my pretty Damon…" Elena hiccupped and smiled in delight as she succeeded in pushing another button through its buttonhole.

Damon frowned. While he was not averse to Elena's ministrations as such, this was probably not the best idea, not when she was so very drunk and upset about whatever it was that had driven her to drink in the first place. Not to mention that he wasn't exactly sober either!

When he tried to dislocate her hands, she resisted, doggedly hooking her fingers in the soft fabric, only to lose her balance completely. Since she was already clutching Damon's shirt, the buttons got to bear Elena's full weight for the moment it took Damon to grab her. The buttons didn't stand a chance; with a ripping sound, they gave way, flying all over the place. Elena almost fell to the ground but Damon grabbed her just in time and hauled her back upright.

She cast a proud glance at his exposed chest, as if his now gaping button-less shirt was her own accomplishment. Which in a way it was, he thought wryly.

She smiled with glee, bringing her hands to his exposed stomach and caressing his abs. Then her fingers traced the contours of his pectoral muscles and she murmured, "Pretty Damon… soft and hard… hot and cold," She giggled and licked her lips, her eyes fixed on his bare chest hungrily.

Damon's muscles clenched, involuntarily responding to her small, warm hands roaming his cool flesh. He knew he had to put a stop to this, however much he would have liked for it to go on - and on - but he suspected that Elena might never forgive him for taking advantage of her in her drunken state.

With regret he grabbed her hands and tried to get through to her, "Elena, you need to stop!"

But she didn't pay him too much attention. Her hands were caught in his, making it impossible for her to touch him any longer, so she took a step closer and pressed herself up against him.

Damon's breath left him in a hiss, "Elena! Dammit, how much have you been drinking? It hasn't been that long since we were dancing this morning!"

Elena gazed at him unblinkingly, but obviously not understanding too much. She did pick up a word she knew however, and said enthusiastically, "Yes! Let's dance!" She thought fuzzily that she always felt so wonderful when dancing, so maybe that would work just as well now?

"Elena, listen to me!" Damon tried again, releasing one of her hands to tuck a strand of her hair that had fallen over her face, behind her ear.

Elena immediately took advantage of him releasing her hand to slide it over his chest. Then she boldly tried to push the ruined shirt off his shoulders. Damon shrugged it back on and hastily took hold of her roaming hand again. It was almost as though she had more hands than he did!

He attempted to look at her sternly at the same time, but he didn't succeed very well, because an endearing frown appeared between her brows and she whined, "Buzzkill!"

It was totally a word he could have used (doubtlessly had used) in similar circumstances, and it sounded incongruous coming out of Elena's mouth, especially since she was using it to him of all people! One corner of Damon's mouth quirked up in a slight smile.

But Elena's drunken one-track mind refused to be diverted. Focused on what she wanted, she pouted and looked at him pleadingly from under her lashes, "Damon? Dance? Pretty please?" She batted her lashes entreatingly.

He shook his head with an indulgent smile, knowing he simply wasn't strong enough to resist her. So he yielded and released her hands, "Okay, Elena, just one dance then!"

She smiled in satisfaction that she'd gotten her way and pushed closer to him. How on earth was he going to dance with her like this? She obviously wasn't planning on assuming proper dancing positions, because she slid her hands over his chest and up to his neck to twine them there, leaving him no choice but to put his hands on her hips.

When she started sensuously undulating her hips, he frowned. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all…

Drunk or not, Elena possessed a very great innate sensuality, and now that she wasn't inhibited by her normal reserve, she let loose with a vengeance. She shimmied closer to him, as close as she could get, her swiveling hips bumping against his.

Well, he'd promised her one dance, so she was going to get that… but definitely no more! He might be good at controlling himself, but he wasn't made of stone!

Still, he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. He bent his knees slightly, sinking down to her level so their hips fit together while they were lazily making big circles and figure eights. They weren't exactly dancing salsa, but he couldn't care less at the moment.

Against his better judgment, his hands slowly slid down to cup her buttocks, and he pulled her closer to his body...

To be continued…

AN: And … cut!

Yes, you know me… but there will be more of this on Monday! Cross my heart and hope to die (well, not really, unless it would mean joining the select company of those scrumptious TV-vamps LOL) So please review and let me know whether you liked drunk Elena?