A/N: Many thanks to SecretIndulgence24 for all her expert help. The story wouldn't exist if I hadn't had her guidance.
Chapter 1
"Hey."
Damon glanced up from his bourbon, finding Elena in the doorway looking typically cute in a dark pink blouse and black scarf, and annoyingly perky. She was grinning so widely that by the time she bounced over to his side, the gleam in her eyes had already danced halfway across the room and reached him.
He scowled, uninterested in cheering up for the present moment, and knocked back the dregs of his drink before morosely replying.
"Hey."
She hopped onto the stool beside his and just sat there, beaming. Waiting for him to bite. Obviously. Not at all ironic …
Damon sighed, unable to resist. "If this the part where you beg me to guess and I refuse and you beg some more and finally I give in and get it wrong and you make me try again… let's just skip all that, shall we?" He frowned at the ring his drink had left on the counter. "Why are you so excited?"
"Who turned the dial up to broody?" she countered. "You're giving Stefan a run for his money."
"Touche." He raised his empty glass in the direction of the bar tender. "Keep 'em comin'."
"Diet Coke, please." Elena spun her stool, leaned back against the counter and observed him curiously. "Does this mood by any chance have something to do with today's bachelor auction?"
The vampire drew patterns with his fingertip through the line of water in front of him. "Maybe."
"So, what happened?" She shoved his shoulder playfully. "Did Mrs. Lockwood buy you a second time?"
"Ha!" Damon retaliated by flicking water droplets in her direction. "Not happening ever again."
Carol Lockwood had set her eyes on him the minute he moved back to Mystic Falls and had never let up the pressure since. She wasn't unattractive, but the constant neediness set Damon's teeth on edge—never a good thing when you're carrying a vampire gene. His lone date with her several years back had been an exercise in endless self-restraint, and not in the way he usually relished.
"Then what?" Elena accepted her drink as it arrived, picked out several ice cubes and promptly dropped them down Damon's shirt before he even saw it coming.
"What the hell?"
She sipped her soda innocently and watched with those big, beautiful eyes as Damon jumped up and contorted his body in a vain attempt to escape the frigid objects slithering across his skin. The maneuver required him to untuck his shirt and do a hip shimmy, which drew wolf whistles from several women. He wiggled and bucked and writhed, providing an undignified spectacle for the amusement of the Grill's other patrons, until the ice cubes finally made their way out and onto the carpet.
Damon pointedly took a seat several stools away before leaning over to reclaim his drink. Elena slid the glass just out of reach and waggled her eyebrows at him as she took a sip.
He glared at her. "What is with you today?"
"You're seriously not even going to try and retaliate?" She shrugged and lifted the straw to her lips. "Musthave been a really bad day …"
In spite of Damon's desire to be left alone to sulk for the remainder of the evening, her sheer impishness was evaporating his irritation on contact. She was completely under his skin, so deep that he couldn't scratch the itch away if he tried.
He eyed his pilfered bourbon. "You wanna play? Fine."
Reaching behind him, Damon plucked a bowl of peanuts off a table and lobbed one at her. Elena caught it as it bounced off the counter, popped it into her mouth, and followed with a sip of bourbon. Expressionless, she grabbed a nearby salt shaker, inverted its contents into the alcoholic drink, and sent it sliding Damon's way.
Wordlessly, he dumped the remaining peanuts in and shoved the glass back in her direction.
Equally silent, Elena plucked half a peanut from the mess, inserted it into her straw and blew it, pea-shooter style, into Damon's bicep.
He raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, eyeing the sticky spot now on his sleeve, and contemplated a nearby Jell-O shot that somebody hadn't finished. Leaning forward, he snagged it and poured its gooey contents onto Elena's lap. Then, while she leaped off her stool and did a little impromptu dance of her own, he coolly stole her soda and drained it.
The bartender came over, scolding at the ready. Damon cut him off at the pass.
"You didn't see anything. The spill was an accident that you'll clean up later. Now you're going to go away and not come back unless I say something."
The guy was parroting back his instructions obediently when Elena hopped into Damon's lap. He blinked, taken more offguard this time than he had been with the ice.
"What—"
Perched on his knee, Elena blew him a kiss. If he hadn't been so seriously distracted, the vampire would definitely have caught the palm holding a teaspoon of pepper before she got it anywhere close to him.
"Elena!"
She was off and running before he started sneezing, but even a stealth spice attack couldn't keep him from catching up very quickly.
As she jogged through the parking lot, Damon materialized in front of her. She had the nerve to look totally unafraid when he grabbed her arm.
"You sneeze little brat sneeze," he growled, backing her against a car. Sneeze. Sneeze. "You wanna sneeze tell me sneeze what's sneeze DAMMIT going on? Sneeze."
Elena reached into her pocket and pulled out a napkin. She held it out, grinning. "Why were you so mad about the auction?"
Damon snatched the napkin away. "Only one person bid sneeze on me. It sneeze kinda sucked, okay? Losing my status as sneeze Mystic Falls' most eligible bachelor."
"Who was it?" she inquired, folding her arms across her chest and looking for all the world like she hadn't just aggravated a man who could break her neck without even trying. "How much did you sell for?"
He wiped his streaming eyes and tried to make sense of this newly playful, confident creature standing in front of him. His relationship with Elena had improved immeasurably with Stefan's departure, but this evening's events were far from ordinary.
"Some random stranger sneeze visiting the historical society." He framed her body on either side with his arms and tried to look mean, but the threatening was rather diminished with his continued sneezing. "Bid $100, which was apparently the most anybody sneeze was willing to pay."
Elena trailed her fingers down his chest lightly. "So you know nothing about who you'll be going on a date with?"
"Less than nothing," Damon muttered, watching her hands dazedly. "I don't even have a name yet. Sneeze. Elena, what are you doing?"
"Trying to make you feel better?"
"By attacking my sinuses?"
She patted his bicep comfortingly. "When's the date?"
"In three days." He glared at her suspiciously. "Why are you so interested?"
"Call it morbid curiosity." She ducked out from under his improvised cage. "Either you'll wind up liking her and compel her to be your girlfriend or she'll turn up dead."
"Ouch." Damon winced. "Harsh much?"
"I'm sorry." Her tone changed, returning to the softer, less brazen Elena he was accustomed to. "That was mean."
"Just a bit." He swatted her behind lightly. "But true."
"You haven't killed anybody in ages." She slid her arm through his and smiled apologetically.
He started them walking in the direction of her car. "Don't be so sure of that."
"You haven't," she insisted. "Why do you have to pretend otherwise?"
The vampire went for a sarcastic drawl to keep her from hearing how affected he was by her newfound belief in him. "It keeps you on your toes around me." Before she could pursue the conversation and ruin an unusually pleasant evening, he continued, "So. Who fed you tequila worms tonight?" In response to her puzzled look, he nodded his head in the direction they'd come. "Back at the bar. That's a side I haven't seen much of."
"It's a side I haven't seen in a long time myself."
"What brought it on?"
"I don't know." She rested her head against his shoulder as they walked. "I just woke up this morning and felt … happy."
They'd spent the previous night hanging out, as they had most of the long summer's evenings, and a small hope flickered through Damon that maybe he had played some small part in helping her regain that happiness.
"I'm glad." Damon leaned down to brush his lips across her hair very lightly. "Goofy Elena was a whole new kind of sexy."
She poked him in the ribs. "So you won't be mad if I tell you I know who won you at the auction?"
"What?" He stopped in his tracks and looked down at her.
Elena pulled away, that playful spark back in her eyes again. "I can't tell you though."
"Oh, don't even!"
For the second time that evening, she darted away. He sped in front of her, blocking her escape, and narrowed his eyes menacingly. "Tell me."
"Can't."
Damon advanced on her, glowering. "Tell me."
She held her ground and stood toe-to-toe with him. "Nope."
"Why not?" he demanded.
"Because it's fun to know something you don't for a change," Elena smirked. "And because I promised."
It was hard to be mad at her when she was so adorably giddy. Damon mulled the situation over for a moment and tried for a compromise. "Can you at least tell me if it's somebody I've met?"
"Yes."
He considered her response. "Yes, you can tell me, or yes, she and I have met?"
She smirked. "Yes, I can tell you, but I'm not going to."
Used to getting his way, he caught her face in one large hand, tilted it up toward his, and commanded, "Tell me."
"I'm wearing vervain," Elena reminded him mildly, not fazed in the least. She started walking again, dodging his halfhearted attempt to block her.
Damon scowled and stalked alongside her. "She sent a messenger to bid on me. Why?"
"She didn't want you to know who she was ahead of time, obviously."
"Why? Is she some psycho witch bitch out to kill me?" Amore terrifying thought occurred to him. "Wait, wait, wait. Is she a he?"
She laughed. "She is most definitely a she."
"Then is she ancient?" he pressed. "Does she need dusting? I'm not into Ming vases."
"Damon," Elena rolled her eyes. "Trust me. You're an antique by comparison."
That was somewhat reassuring. He'd had his fill of older women.
"Is she ugly?"
"No …"
"Is she hot?"
They halted at Elena's car and she declined to answer until she'd extracted her keys.
"I think you'll think she's pretty."
Damon held the door open. "Do I know her?"
"I already told you." Elena climbed inside and rolled down the window. "I'm not saying."
"What about where we're going? Can you tell me that?"
"Nope."
He slapped the side of the car irritably. "Oh, come on!"
She started the engine, grinning. "See you tomorrow, if you haven't fled town already."
"Wait!" he yelled after her. "Do I have a reason for fleeing? You never answered me about the witch! Elena!"
TVDTVDTVD
A/N: Next chapter will be posted no later than Friday and probably sooner.
