Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or copyrighted names or items described herein. I only borrow them to have a lot more fun with them than anyone who DOES own them would ever dare.
There is nothing like the smell of a hot girl just out of the shower. I can't get enough of it, and it is hands down THE best way to evoke a FABULOUS visual – wet, naked, hair slicked back, flushed from the hot water . . . ah, I get a chubby just thinking about it.
You can understand, therefore, why I started timing my evening visits to Elena to just when she gets out of the shower. I can sit on her windowsill and enjoy the scent in the quiet of her cute, girly room, imagining her rubbing that towel across her damp skin, collecting the little drops of water from between her breasts, across her stomach, between her . . .
"Damon!"
There we go. God, that look on her face is just adorable. If she thinks scowling at me and scolding me is gonna get me to stop this, she better think again. Forget chubby, I am hard in my jeans now. She's got a drop of water clinging to her upper lip, and I want to lap it off her.
"Oh relax, it's nothing I haven't seen before." I smirk at her, running my eyes over the exposed parts of her body. She closes her mouth suddenly, her eyes wide. "And if I do see something I haven't before, I'll –"
"Yeah, yeah, you'll throw a dollar at it. I know." The line of her shoulders sags, and her gaze drops to the floor. She isn't clutching at her towel anymore, like she could magically make it cover more of her skin just by the force of her fingers. She turns, grabbing her pajamas and walking back into the bathroom and closing the door.
Wait, something's wrong here.
Why didn't she yell at me? She just gives in and leaves – what, that's – that's not what she was supposed to do! She's supposed to give me a lecture on privacy and not being a creep, and maybe throw something at me. She's supposed to be defiant, maybe do that nifty trick girls have where they can change under a towel without exposing themselves (gotta love that, it's like a rubix cube with clothes and skin).
I walk over to the door, lifting my hand to knock, but the door opens before I can. She's changed into a camisole – no bra, VERY nice – and pj pants, and she looks absolutely yummy. It's really far too cold for such a skimpy sleepwear set, and her hard nipples pressing through the fabric of her top are only the most obvious proof. She looks up at me and my upraised hand with clear eyes, no trace of annoyance on her brow. Just sadness.
What the fuck!? I didn't want to make her sad! I just wanted to get her all riled up and sexy and stuff.
She brushes past me heading to her alarm clock. I follow, clearing my throat and rubbing a hand through my hair.
"Look, it's, it's not that big a deal, ok?" I just wanna make her feel better, I mean, it's not like I saw that much of her anyway. "I've seen you fairly scantily clad before, you know, what with all the near-death experiences and me making sure you weren't bleeding internally. And, after all, I've seen Katherine, so – " Her gaze jerks back to me, and I'm horrified at what I see there.
A single tear rolls out of her eye and down her cheek.
NO! Nononononono, abort, abort, that is NOT what I wanted, oh god please don't cry PLEASE!
"H-hey, what's . . . c'mon, I didn't see anything, really . . ." I come closer, reaching out a hand to her, but her face crumples and she turns away to lay against her pillow.
Shit. Shitshitshit. Seriously, there is nothing I enjoy less on this earth than dealing with crying women. I've never been very good at it, and . . . I dunno, I went for so many years just turning off my emotions, not really caring about what other people feel. Something about making a girl cry, it just makes that switch wobble a little bit towards the on position again. And now, when the switch is already on to begin with . . . I kneel down next to her bed, wondering what to do. Her voice is soft, but it still startles me when she speaks.
"I know that I'm not special," she whispers brokenly. "I know that there's nothing . . . like you said, I look just like Katherine anyhow . . ." She pauses to sniffle a little. "I guess . . . I hoped that someday, I might get to – to show you . . ." I'm holding very, very still, my heart pounding in my chest with its stolen pulse. Elena peeks up at me through her hair, and I reach forward and hold her hand. It's cold, so I wrap it in both of mine to warm it.
"Show me what?" I kinda feel breathless, even though I shouldn't need air. She worries her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, blushing through her tears.
"I . . . I just wanted . . ." Her eyes close around a rush of more tears. "I wanted to be able to come to you someday, and give you . . . but I guess it's not much of a gift anyway, since you've already seen it, one way or another." Her shoulders tremble with a little sob.
It's official: I am the absolute worst person in the world. Ok, maybe not quite worse than Hitler, but seriously, could I be any more of a horse's ass? I swear to god, once upon a time my stupid-ass brain understood things like that. Things like how to show affection and . . . and love for someone, and what it takes to show all your vulnerability to a person, how scary and difficult and wonderful it is.
And the fact is, no matter how mature and responsible Elena is, she's seventeen. Even now that I don't look at her and automatically think of Katherine anymore, sometimes it's hard for me to remember what seventeen is like. At seventeen, your body is a big deal, and for a girl, I know it's gotta be an even bigger one. Plus, she's been betrayed and abandoned by so many people, and . . . and now by me, too. It's astonishing that she's still willing to let anyone get close to her, and I should feel honored that she wanted to let me in. And I basically told her that none of that meant anything to me.
I literally couldn't feel any worse if I had kicked a puppy.
I sit there for another few moments, wanting desperately to hold her, kiss her tears away, beg forgiveness, and then show her how much she means to me. But somewhere, my brain has come up with just a little bit of intelligence, a soupcon of wisdom, a smidgen of sensitivity, and I know that what Elena needs – deserves is to have control of her body right now. If she forgives me and wants to share that with me, then great, but she needs to control that.
Her big, fluffy blue robe is hanging on the back of the door. I grab it and bring it back to the bed, laying it over her shoulders. At the feel of the soft fabric, she looks up, surprised and confused. I keep my eyes averted, and gently take her hand to slide it into her sleeve. She sits up, and I do the same to the other side, closing the robe around her and gently tying the belt. She's completely covered now, modest and warm enough for this chilly night. I lift her hair out of the neckline of the robe, and stroke her cheek before I lean back, sitting next to her bed. She looks at me curiously.
"Damon . . . ?" I try for a smirk, but it comes out as a grimace.
"I'm an insensitive ass." Her eyes widen at my statement. "The reason I harass you like that is because . . . I want to get close to you, and I'm too chicken-shit to just come out and say so." That . . . was significantly easier to say than I'd anticipated. "If you ever decided you wanted to share your body with me, Elena . . . I'd be the luckiest man in the world." I lean forward slowly, giving her time to stop me or back away because I actually want her to be comfortable this time around. "It would be the best gift you could ever give me."
Elena's face softens, and though two more tears creep out of her eyes, she smiles.
Somehow, I need to find a way to remind myself that THIS, this feeling, having her smile at me, is immeasurably better than whatever it was I'd wanted to get out of her before. I sit and watch her for a moment, raising my eyebrows to ask her permission, and her smile deepens as she extends her arms to me. I sit up on the bed next to her and pull her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"I'm so sorry." She nuzzles against my chest at my apology, and I get an unreasonable thrill from the feeling. Seriously, I HAVE GOT to remember how surprisingly NOT difficult this is, and the results are SO much better. "I will never take you, or your body, for granted again."
I hold her for another few minutes, just enjoying the feel of her in my arms. I can tell she's getting tired, though, and since I'm not going to press her anymore tonight, I think it's time to take my leave. I lean back and kiss her forehead again, before looking into her face, now dry of tears.
"I'll let you get some rest." Her eyelids flicker as I say it, and when I stand to go, she holds fast to my hand.
"W-will you . . . stay?" Her voice is small and sweet. "Just – you know, just to sleep."
Hm, let's see here: stay in her room tonight with her, sharing her bed, likely allowed to touch her, but not, ya know, touch her, smelling her scent, listening to her sighs, and completely unable to do ANYTHING in response? Will I stay?
"Absolutely."
Author's Note: Alright, kids, here's what we're gonna do. I'm not altogether sure this little scene should go any further, since it's so freakin' cute all by its lonesome. Buuuuuuuut . . . it's certainly gearing up for a VERY interesting after-scene, ain't it? So: VOTE! In the form of a REVIEW! Do we leave this as is and let them get a good night's sleep, or do we find out how deep the rabbit hole goes? I'll decide enough votes have been cast when I decide enough votes have been cast.