The minivan smelled like hot dogs and stale socks, and Damon smiled in Giuseppe's direction because he just said, "I'm proud of you for doing this, Damon."
Damon knew he should do more than just smile because he was lucky. Really, he was. And everyone had told him so. Numerous times.
The day after Kelly Donovan paid he and Elena a visit at the hospital, two things happened. University of Virginia had called, offered him back his scholarship. But he told them he would think about it. The biggest thing, though, was that Elena's lawyers showed up at the hospital, along with Kelly Donovan, and they helped guide them towards a decision that would affect Elena's future, her life.
In the back of the van, Sarah and Stefan couldn't stop arguing. Everything was back to normal. Only, it was not. Because Damon was on the way to his graduation ceremony, while across town, Matt Donovan was pleading guilty, accepting a plea bargain that would put him away for eight to ten years. The back half to be spent in minimum security where his mother would do everything she could to help heal him. He wasn't a bad person, she told them, he was just really troubled. Damon wanted so badly not to believe her, but Matt was her son. And truth was, Lillian would have done the same.
Damon sat in a robe in the middle of a row of chairs, listening to George (the valedictorian) relayed his speech about what a great four years high school had been, how high school was and would always be the greatest years of their lives, how excited they should all be about their future, how the rest of their lives would start now. Next to him, Elena settled her head on his shoulder, excused from the alphabetized seating and name calling so he could help her up the steps and onto the stage. She didn't want to use her crutches.
Two days ago, she was released from the hospital under the doctor's advisement, not hers. That night, she and John also celebrated their freedom, away from the hospital, away from debt. Their "insurance" covered everything.
Names were called, one after the other, and the families cheered and they clapped, and when his and Elena's names were called, they slowly made their way up the steps, and shook hands with the principal. The cheers intensify, all for Elena, now known by the town as The Girl Who Got Shot.
After the ceremony, Damon helped John move some bags from his trunk to the minivan. Elena was moving in with him. At least temporarily. She had set on life going back to normal, which meant John going back to work. Damon would be taking her to rehab, check-ups, taking care of her.
"I have cleaned the place," he told Elena, opening the door for her. "And I filled the pantry, bought everything you like. I got some good recipes online, stuff even I can make. And I brought over all your craft stuff. I figure you can still use your hands so…" He dropped her bag by the front door and patted down the couch for her.
"I love you, Damon," she said, her smile heard in her words. "And I love that you have done all this for me."
"It is no problem."
"But you know what I'd really love?" She leaned on her crutches, exhausted.
"Rest. Of course. I will get the bed ready."
She laughed. "Damon."
"What?" He checked over her. No blood everywhere. "What is wrong?"
"I want you to pick me up, carry me to the bedroom, and I want you to make out with me for, like, five hours straight."
He grinned. "Yes, madam."
He ran a finger between her bare breasts, around the dressing covering her wound, down to her panties, and back up again. They made out for a total of five minutes before she wanted me to take off his T-shirt, which of course he did. Then she asked him to take off hers, then her bra, then her pants, and then they made out for another minute more before she winced in pain and he told her they should stop. So now she was lying on the bed, her leg elevated, looking up at him while he smiled down at her. "The doctor said we should wait a couple of weeks, make sure everything has healed before they started to make love again," she said.
"You asked him about it?"
She shook her head lazily, worn out from the long, active day. "I think he could tell by the way we were around each other." Her words were slow, drawn out, and Damon could tell she was losing the fight to fake it.
"You should rest, babe. I will go start dinner."
She nodded, and less than two minutes later, she was asleep.
Once Damon had prepped dinner and it was in the oven, he went back in to check on Elena. She was sitting up in bed, and he watched from the doorway as she slowly put her top back on. "You need any help with that?"
Elena shook her head and looked up at me with those eyes, and he was quick to go to her, to kneel at her feet, because he was that guy.
"You need to stop doing that, Damon."
"I'm trying, babe." Honestly, he was. "But it was hard for me. You weren't there—I mean, obviously, you were, but…" He took her hands, looked in her eyes. "I came so close to losing you once, to having my greatest fears come true, and I'm sorry that I'm fussing over you like this, and if the roles were reversed, I would hate it, too. But, Elea, I love you—"
She giggled, cutting him off. "You are so romantic."
God, he missed her laugh.
He rolled eyes. "Sorry. I love you, babe."
"Much better."
"You ready for rehab tomorrow?" he asked.
She quirked an eyebrow. "You ready for your 4:45 run?"
"Why do I have to do that?" He whined. "It is summer."
"You ran every day last summer."
"But that's because I was on the track team."
"And you will be on the track team at University. Did you call them yet? Tell them you are going?"
The oven timer went off and he exhaled, relieved. "I made a chicken and cheese pasta bake."
At 4:45 the next morning, Elena's alarm went off. His didn't. She knew he wouldn't set it, so she set hers instead. Sneaky Elena.
"Have fun!" she shouted, and Damon rolled over to his side and faced her.
"You are mean."
She smiled. "Old times, baby. I want old times."
He didn't recall the last time he had gone this long without running, and it was not fun. At all. He almost gave up halfway through his standard route, but he pushed on because he knew it was important to Elena. When he got back, he showered, made breakfast. He took it to the bedroom on a tray and Elena sat up. "You are the best boyfriend ever," she said, then looked down at the food: juice, yogurt, granola and dry toast. She looked up, nose scrunched.
"You have to eat healthier. No spleen means low immune system."
She frowned. Those eyes. "But I have been eating hospital food for weeks and this is…"
"This is mine."
"Thank God!"
He got her tray from the kitchen. Coffee, Pop Tarts and a Snickers bar.
She licked her lips, looked up at him. "I swear, as soon as I'm healed, you are totally getting a handy."
"I can give myself handies, Elena. This,"—he pointed to her tray of sugar—"totally earned me a blowy."
"You are such a dork."
"Will you at least let me shower with you?"
"You just had a shower."
"But not with you."
"Damon…" She dropped her Pop Tart on the tray. "I have to shower without the dressing and—"
"And I have seen your wounds," he told her.
"But not lately and they are all oozy and gross."
"Did you miss the part where I told you I love you?"
She sighed. Conceded. He won.
The rehab facility was more like a five-star hotel, and Elena didn't stop looking around, touching everything she could reach. Alfred and Roger—the two male doctors in their mid-forties who were assigned to them were also the owners of the place, and they assured them that Elena would be a priority with them.
Money could definitely do a lot, Damon thought.
The entire appointment was about telling them Elena's injuries, going through X-rays and other scans, and then telling them what the plan was. There were two bullets still inside Elena, one near her hip, one in her thigh. They were able to remove the one in her abdomen and the one near her knee, but it was the aftermath of that last one which would need the most help. The bullet clipped her kneecap, tore through her ACL. "Do we work on it like we would any other ACL injury?" Damon asked.
"Yes and no," Alfred said. "It is going to take a lot longer to rebuild the muscles."
"Are you familiar with ACL injuries?" Roger asked Damon.
"My buddy tore his last year. He runs long distance so he was out a while."
"You run track, too?" Alfred asked.
"I used to. In high school." In another life.
"You joining the team in college?" he asked.
Damon looked over at the X-rays. "So a lot of wading in water initially, getting it used to subtle movement, right?"
"Right," Roger said. "Do you have access to a pool?"
"We have a lake," Damon told them. "But the wounds are still healing, so I don't know about lake water. In the meantime, we can use the facilities here?"
"Doctor Damon Salvatore," Elena announced, and the real doctors laughed. Smartass Elena.
But he loved smartass Elena.
In the car on the way home, Elena thanked Damon for asking all the right questions and knowing what to say. She admitted it was all a little overwhelming for her. It was overwhelming for him, too, but while she was focused on life getting back to normal, he was just as focused on fixing her.
"Are you looking forward to the tryouts this afternoon, Coach Damon?" she asked.
"Yeah, it should be good," he told her. "You want me to take you home, or you want to come watch?"
"I want to come. Stefan is going to hang with me."
He watched her from the corner of his eye as she sent a text on her phone, a smile tugging on her lips. "I never really noticed how close you and Stefan were."
She nodded, her smile growing when a response came through.
"Is that him you are messaging?"
"Yep."
"Did you guys…I mean not that it matters, but did you ever consider…you know?"
"Dating him?" she asked, all Casual Elena like.
"Yeah."
"Only to make you jealous. We had it all planned out, but then it got to the part where we had to kiss in front of you, and the thought alone was awkward enough so we vetoed that idea real quick."
"You had a plan?"
She nodded, giggled. "I was so desperate for you to notice me standing on the sidelines, waiting for you."
"Funny," Damon said. "I always felt like you were the star player and I was up in the nose bleeds."
"You know what we are?" she asked, settling her hand on his leg.
He lifted her hand, kissed her wrist. "We are idiots."
"The worst kind." She removed her seat-belt just long enough to sit in the middle. She rested her head on his shoulder, said, "This is going to be fun."
It was not fun. Not at all.
Damon was quick to realize that coaching a bunch of seven to eight-year-old would be nothing like he thought.
But it didn't matter because Elena was with him.
I was listening to the song "As long as you are there" when I was writing this chapter...when the right person is with you, it doesn't matter where you are and what you are doing, you will still feel happy and contented.
Thank you again for the support and wonderful reviews. Without your support, I don't think I can keep on writing Delena stories:) Thank you!