Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries. I only write for fun.

I was feeling very frustrated and broken-hearted after S4E9. I had to get it out somehow. This is part of my solution. I thought about what I wanted for Delena and here it is.

Chapter 1: Unexpected

'Knock, knock, knock.' A clear indication of company. Intriguing timing considering I haven't been at my house for over a week. Likely it's Bonnie. I'm expecting her, just not for another hour. Turning my senses to assess my visitor brings the sound of leather brushing denim, heavy boots on wooden boards, deep breaths and a low, erratic heartbeat.

My heart starts racing with hope and trepidation. My mouth is a desert and my body flushed with heat.

"Elena?" No more doubt. Damon is here.

"Can I come in?" His hesitant voice pulls me down the stairs at full speed. A slow breath while I fix my hair in front of the hall mirror, then throw the door wide.

Assuming he's here to make a clean break, I start at his feet, delaying the inevitable. A thorough examination of his scuffed boots, his slim black jeans encasing perfect legs, hips. Thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. Leather jacket split to show a black cotton-clad torso topped with strong shoulders, a kissable neck and artfully disheveled dark hair. Finally, taking in his perfect face, I meet shining blue eyes expecting to see nothing but resignation and resolve.

I'm thoroughly unprepared for the truth. Mocking, joy-filled eyes. Naughty half-smile, no doubt in response to my drawn out survey, causes a brief flash of chagrin to appear on my lips. He blinks and I'm lost. Love. Desire.

Before one word can be spoken, I pull him into the house, shut the door, and throw my arms around his neck.

With no hesitation he wraps me in his arms, pulls me tight, and lays his head into the crook of my neck with a heavy sigh.

Having him in my arms, his warmth, his scent, his strength, his need, are all more overwhelming than I remembered.

I waited. I hoped. I prayed. Now Damon is here. This is home.

A slow shift of his hand to stroke my waist encourages me to settle more comfortably on his shoulder. Shifting his jacket I slip inside to encircle his hips with my left arm. While feathering my fingers into his hair I snuggle my head into the curve of his neck and shoulder until I breathe in nothing but the scent of his skin.

Damon holds me like we're dancing. A hand at the small of my back. Cheek pressed to my hair. Tracing the lines of my body from waist to shoulder, brushing fingertips up the angle of my arm to caress my wrist and match his fingers to mine. Returning to tuck my hair back and linger over the contours of chin, cheeks, lips. Over and over, teasing my senses, taking more time with each pass to run fingers through my hair, to memorize the curves of my neck and the softness of my lips.

We sway slowly to the beat of Damon's heart.