"You know, Emily. I'm really starting to look forward to your calls," he says through the phone.

"Yeah? I wouldn't get used to it. You're leaving soon, remember?" she retorted, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet in her bathroom, the door closed.

"Why do you always have to bring that up?" he asks irritably. She rolls her eyes.

'Because it's going to happen…because I won't see you again.' She ignores the pit in her stomach and focuses on why she was calling him. "Listen…Stefan went to get the journal. I was looking for it, and Elena and Stefan were here. Jeremy said he gave it to his history teacher, and Stefan left to get it," she informs.

"…Huh…" he considers. She waits curiously for a reply. "You still at home?" he asks. She furrows her brows.

"Yeah?"

"And so is Elena, right? Which means Stefan will be back soon…and I'll be there when he does…" he says. Emily tenses up, uncertain what to expect.

XXX

"Okay. So, I bought groceries, in general. Not sure what to cook. What do you think?" Jenna asks Emily. The former had just arrived from work, evidently in a good mood. Emily doesn't get a chance to answer when the doorbell rings. Jenna furrows her brows.

"Could be Stefan," Emily tells her before heading to open the door.

"Damon," she acknowledges.

"Emily," he smirks. It had been half an hour since he'd called her. She steps aside.

"Come on in," she glances meaningfully at the kitchen as Damon closes the door behind him. He looks to see her aunt, and smiles politely.

"Hello, Jenna," he greets. Jenna raises a displeased brow.

"Damon," she retorts bitterly, a hand on the middle counter and the other on her hip. Emily tenses up.

"Right. We can just-" she gestures to the living room, but is cut off by Jenna.

"Where are you going?" she demands. The two turn to her warily. "I still don't know what to cook," she says. Emily sighs tiredly.

"How about I help?" Damon offers. Emily cocks a suspecting brow at him.

She remembered how 'gentlemanly' he'd been before he 'unveiled' his 'true self' to her.

"Really? You cook?" Jenna asks doubtfully.

"Yeah. Sure I do," he smiles and approaches the kitchen with Emily following. "May I?" he points at the groceries. Jenna nods, gaze fixed intensely on him as she moved back against the other counter and crossed her arms. He postpones asking why she didn't seem to like him very much as he looks into them. "Hey, I know how to make some great pasta, with tomato sauce and mozzarella," he smirks enthusiastically. Jenna considers this.

"That sounds great. I'll help you," Emily says, then faces Jenna. "Hey, Jenna. You're probably tired. Why don't you let us take care of dinner, and you can go ahead and change?" she offers.

"Yes. We'll take care of everything," Damon nods.

They looked like a suspicious pair of cats.

Jenna squints her eyes at them.

"Okay. Let's just get this out of the way," she says, straightening from the counter, and dropping the act. "I don't care…what your idea of fun is," she says to Damon. He eyes her perplexedly.

"Jenna," Emily tries. Jenna doesn't stop as Damon begins to realize that it was something Emily had said that had the aunt worked up.

"You don't just take her out of town, on your own account…It is not okay," she insists. Damon's eyes widen.

"Jenna, seriously," Emily pushes.

"No, it's fine. She's right," Damon says, quickly catching up.

He's unsure what exactly Emily had told her,

but he was confident he could regain her trust, if only to remain in the house till Stefan was back.

"I'm terribly sorry. You're absolutely right. It was…inappropriate…It's just…Emily was telling me the other day how stressed out she was feeling, and how she wanted to get out of town for a bit," he explains,

despite Emily saying none of those things.

Maybe she did mention once that she wanted to leave town.

Jenna looks at her as though in confusion.

Emily wasn't one to complain or confess her troubles,

and it was as if they were overlooked sometimes, until someone pointed it out.

What bothered Jenna was that she was hearing it from a practical stranger.

"I was just…trying to be a good friend," Damon finished.

"Just a friend?" Jenna pushed.

"Okay. Jenna. Seriously," Emily insisted, glaring at her. Jenna backs down, smirking. Damon hides his own.

"Alright. Fine," she heads out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Damon faces Emily, who looked somewhat relieved.

"What did you tell her?" he asked weirdly. She tenses up again.

"I-Nothing! Just. Forget it. Nice save," she patted his shoulder, facing the grocery bags. "Do you actually know how to cook?" she asks. He goes with the new topic in dismiss.

"That so hard to believe?" he retorts in amusement.

"Well, you never seize to surprise me, Damon." He smirks.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet."

"Somehow I knew you'd say that, friend," she sarcastically remarks.

"Would you rather I tell her we made out? Twice," he leans into her. Her face grows red and heart rate increases. Then she scoffs.

"You're an ass," she says. He grins sheepishly, and starts emptying out the bags on the counter with her helping.

"Okay, so do I just boil it?" she asks with a penne pasta packet in hand.

"Yes. I'll take care of the sauce," he answers, pulling out the tomatoes. "I need a bowl," he says. She smirks, and opens a cabinet to bring one out. She places it next to him on the counter. He catches her amusement and asks: "What?

"It's just really weird. Damon Salvatore, chief vampire," she whispers the last part before grapping the pasta and heading to the oven with him chuckling behind her.

"Hello, Elena," she hears him comment, and turns to see her sister at the bottom of the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" she asks warily.

"Just…making dinner. Where's Stefan?" Damon asks. Elena somewhat glares at Emily, who eyes her back plainly as she came to stand by Damon.

"He'll be here…" she replies, feigning sudden confidence. She then faces her sister. "Emily, can I…" she points with her thumb in the back, then recalls that even while whispering, Damon could hear them. She exhales in defeat. "Never mind."

"Go ahead, Elena. Say what's on your mind. We're all a team here," Damon mischievously encourages. Emily grew tense by her sister's visible anxiousness. Elena then straightened.

"Okay," she stepped into the kitchen. "Why do you have Emily working for you like some minion? Why are you using her?" she asks. Emily's eyes widen. Damon furrows his brows and gives a disbelieving look.

"I'm not using her."

"He asked for my help, Elena. What's the big deal? He was here when I called him the night of the dance, wasn't he?" Emily states.

"Yeah. See? Mutual benefits," he then faces Emily. "Friends With Benefits," he wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively. Emily catches his meaning and rolls her eyes at him.

"Whatever," comments Elena, turning to head away.

Damon zooms to block her. She gasps in shock, and Emily's eyes are still adjusting to his sudden position switch.

"Here's the real question," he starts. Emily grows wary, and Elena gulps nervously. "Is it for real? This renewed sense of brotherhood?" he asks.

"What do you mean?" she dodges.

"Damon," Emily calls, approaching them. Damon raises a hand to quiet her and she sighs tiredly.

"Can I trust him?" he asks.

"…Yes. Of course you can," Elena answers as honestly as possible. Damon nods, unable to tell fully assess whether or not she was lying.

"Okay…good…Because that means he understands what I'll do…if anyone gets in my way," he lowly says. Elena eyes him warily, then shoots a glare at Emily, before stomping off.

"Was that really necessary?" Emily scolded as he turned back to the kitchen.

"Now, Emily. I'm disappointed," he says, tossing the tomatoes into a bowl and heading to the sink. She raises a confused brow as she searches another cabinet for a cooking pot. He turns on the sink and starts washing the tomatoes as he resumed. "When you're negotiating with team members that are deemed untrustworthy, you have to show them what happens if they…stab you in the back," he flicks water out of his hands, grabs a knife from the knife holder and heads to the cutting-board on the counter. Behind him, Emily fills water into the pot, and leaves it to fill in the sink as she headed to his side to speak quietly, and he tilted his head towards her to listen.

"The 'untrustworthy team members' are my sister, and your brother," she states half-sarcastically.

"Neither of whom like me very much," he retorts.

"Probably for good reason," she smirks, heading to turn off the sink and place the pot on the oven. She grabs a lighter and attempts to start a flame. The lighter is stubborn, and there's suddenly a hand on hers.

"But you like me," he whispers in her ear, sending shivers up her spine as he lit the flame with ease. His hand slides off of hers and he retires to the cutting board.

It takes her a minute to calm down as she covers the pot, and she sighs irritably at his persistent moves.

She stomps back towards him, speaking in hushed whispers. "Maybe that's cause you haven't killed my best friend," she retorts, and Damon soon realizes that she's referring to Lexi.

"You don't have a best friend. Where's your blender?" Emily's brows furrow. She scoffs as she turns back and plugs in the blender. She approaches him and grabs the board with the cut up tomatoes on top, and the knife.

"I can if I wanted to," she says, re-approaching the blender as she slid in all the tomatoes, then closed the lid and placed her hand on top of it.

"That would require-" Damon is cut off as she turns the blender on, and he speaks louder. "It would require you actually leaving the house and doing something social!"

"I could say the same to you!" she yells back. "Is this good?" she opens the blender and shows him. The tomatoes are a smooth, light red mixture within.

"Yeah. It's fine. Give me a small pot, and point me to where you keep the spices. And, I don't need friends. What's the point?" She shoves the blender into his hand, and he follows her around as she brought out another pot, put it on the stove.

"Well, I'm no expert in the department, but I guess, pretty much this," she gestured between them, then moved to the spices cabinet and opened it as she resumed. "The talking. The laughing. The helping. That's the point," she faces him with a soft smile.

He smiles back genuinely,

then furrows his brows in consideration.

He debated telling her something.

"You know, there was a time when I trusted Stefan completely," he said, moving to grab at several different jars. She frowns.

"What happened?" she asked.

"…Our father was a member of the council at it's youth…Stefan thought he could help him see reason," he sniffed the contents of an unlabeled jar, then grabbed it as well and headed to the oven. "This is boiling," he points out.

"Oh," she utters, heading to retrieve the pasta and pour it in. "And?" she encouraged, not fully comprehending what 'council' he was referring to.

"Right…He thought he could convince my dad that they weren't all bad…The vampires…her…" he spoke in a gloomy, cold tone as she stirred the pasta with a ladle and listened intently. He poured in the tomato juice into his smaller pot and started peppering it with different spices. "I knew father…I knew the kind of man he was…it was never going to happen…Stefan promised me he wouldn't talk to him…" he faces Emily with a highly displeased look. "But he did…" Emily's eyes widened, and she froze for a moment of consideration. He turned on the stove, and grabbed a spoon from nearby, stirring the sauce. "They were gonna take her whether or not he spoke, I guess…They had the compass," he points out in spite of the story…his feelings… "but it's the fact that he…" Damon purses his lips in frustration, eyes fixed on the sauce.

"…That he broke your trust…" Emily finished for him.

His silence was enough of an answer.

She removed the ladle and closed the pot, letting the pasta cook. When she faced Damon again, he was coming at her with a spoon full of sauce and his hand beneath it. She moves forward and takes a sip, tasting it. It was salty at just the right amount. The combination of spices made the sauce very rich in both taste and smell. "Mm. It's good," she nods, causing a smile to tug at his lips.

"How are we doing in here?" Jenna asks, approaching them in a different outfit and wet hair tied in a bun. She smiles mischievously as they pull apart.

"Going great," Damon plasters on a smiley face.

"Hey, there. Damon," greets Jeremy, who is just behind Jenna.

"Hello, Jeremy," Damon smiles back just as fake-ly. Jenna faces Jeremy expectantly, and Emily squints her eyes at both of them.

"Hey, uh. Wanna play Xbox?" Jeremy offers weirdly, gesturing with a cd box of Burnout Paradise in his hand.

"Sure," Damon faces Emily. "Keep an eye on the sauce," he smirks. She smiles pleasantly and nods at him as he steps out of the kitchen and towards the youngest Gilbert.

The two head into the living room, and Damon resides on the couch while Jeremy readied the console and tv.

To her, the picture suddenly set in,

of Damon spending the day with them, making dinner, playing with Jeremy.

It was…nice…

If only that was the extent of it, if that was the point, to just spend a day together…as a friend?

She knew she wanted more, but in no way was that an option.

Her happy-ish train of thoughts is cut short when Jenna comes to stand right beside her. "So. Just friends?" she pushes. It takes Emily a minute to acknowledge her words, before she rolls her eyes.

"God, Jenna. Seriously?!...Did you…tell Jeremy to play with him, so you could ask me that?!" Emily whisper yells, despite being certain that Damon could still hear them.

He could.

He smirks.

"Well…" Jenna has a think-about-it. "…Yes…" Emily gives her a disbelieving look and faces the sauce instead. She checks on the pasta as well as Jenna continues. "I just…It's just! You guys really look like you're getting along!"

"No, Jenna," Emily cut off. "We're just friends," she insists, shooting her a glare.

"But why?!" Emily cuts her off again.

"Because we are. Now please, just drop it. Please," she persists. Jenna is somewhat confused by Emily's constant rejection, but eventually complies.

"Alright…" She'd have to get the details later

XXXXX