Okay guys, I'm still alive! lol. Just finished Summer 1 college classes (all A's!) and started Summer 2! Things have been crazy busy.

But we are moving into our apartment in August (just before Fall Semester) and I will not be having to drive back and forth so much, which will hopefully give me more time to write!

I have not/will not abandon the story, so just please remain patient with me. I'll do my best to write when I can and update again soon!

On that note, here's the next chapter! I recommend rereading over the last one to refresh because this one does pick up directly where the other left off.

Okay, shutting up now lol; ya'll enjoy!


"If it isn't guilt or regret, why lash out that way?"

Elena's question, so simple in its inquiry, had yet to stop bouncing around Damon's head, as he stood beneath the shower spray.

It was cowardly, to leave so abruptly and without answer, but the weight of knowledge in his intruder's stare had been unsettling.

But she did not know why he had almost done what he had done, and he was no longer sure he did either.

Some days, the doubt was there.

"Why is it you want to die?"

It was not that he desired death...not really.

He felt no regrets, no guilt eating away at him, no confession to be torn from his tongue in a last ditch effort of salvation.

What Elena had perceived as a yearning for death was, in fact, more of an aversion to life.

Death held no meaning because living held no meaning, and why waste energy mourning the inevitable?

Maybe it was just that simple.

Apathy was killing him more efficiently than anything he could do to himself, and he had accepted the one way ticket far too long ago to turn back now.

This was not something Elena was likely to understand, though.

No, not his Elena, with her sad eyes, sweet smile, and defiant nature.

The complexity of her was a fascination that fed his own vitality, like a drug providing him with something to focus on.

No doubt to be short lived, and the withdrawls to follow may very well do him in; but would it not be worth it?

Elena was a blazing light, and he was willing to let himself burn if it meant getting to feel her warmth; he had been so cold for so long.


Eventually, Damon realized he couldn't hide out in the bathroom anymore and turned off the shower.

He quickly dried off and pulled on a fresh pair of soft pajama pants, trying to decide what to say to Elena if she was still up and waiting on the other side of his Master bedroom.

He owed her an explanation, but was unaccustomed to offering excuses for his behavior.

If it were anyone else, he would just cut the loss and go to bed; avoid the unpleasantness entirely.

But it was Elena, and he had already wasted enough of his limited time with her.

Exhaling stiffly, Damon bit the bullet and entered the main living quarters, half expecting to find it empty.

Instead, what he discovered was even more surprising.

Elena and a blanket, nested into the large sofa, flipping through channels on the mounted flat screen, a bowl of popcorn in her lap and a buffet of snack food set out on the table in front of her.

All traces of the dinner they had cooked was gone.

"What is this?" He announced himself, and Elena glanced over.

He fought a twinge of satisfaction when she stared a second too long at his chest and abdomen.

"Completely useless, that's what this is," she answered, once her eyes found their way back to his face.

She waved the remote, "I rarely have time to just enjoy the TV, and when I do...nada. Talk shows and sitcom rerun episodes."

The corner of Damon's mouth twitched in amusement as she refocused on the screen.

If Elena was willing to ignore their earlier disgruntlement, then he was certainly not going to argue.

"You can tap on the large blue button near the top," he told her, "It will show you a list of movies you can purchase."

She did so as he walked around the sofa and sat just close enough that her feet, which were peeking from under the blanket where she had curled her legs up, brushed his thigh.

"Oh wow," she murmured, when the display was shown, "Now this is more like it."

Damon studied her profile as she started scrolling through the titles, and once again, he became mesmerized by how naturally beautiful she was.

"Oh!" she straightened, and set the popcorn into his lap, "This one!"

"The Notebook?" he read aloud when she clicked on it.

Elena grinned at him, "Not your kind of movie?"

Damon shrugged, "I have never seen it."

Apparently, this was a crime of worse proportion than the actual illegal activity he had engaged in.

"What?!" Elena's mouth fell open, "It's one of the most popular rom-coms ever made. A staple piece of American pop culture. That's like saying you've never seen Titanic!"

"Seen what?"

When her eyes widened further, Damon chuckled, "That was a joke. I know about the sinking ship."

Elena huffed, and settled back down into her seat, "Fine. But we're watching the Notebook. It won't hurt you to be more cultured in American filmography."

He grimaced, "I am thinking perhaps I should have let you shoot me the night you broke into my house, after all."

"Oh, hush. It's not that bad," she promised, reaching over for a handful of popcorn, which gave Damon the perfect excuse to inch a little closer.

And since it was comfortable, in the near dark, with the snacks she had prepped and the movie she had chosen, he fell silent and tried to enjoy the moment.


Elena was very aware that a gorgeously half naked Damon Salvatore was sitting next to her on a suddenly small sofa, but once the opening credits of the movie started, she forgot all about her lust.

Despite the discomfort of their earlier conversation, watching the movie together was almost peaceful.

She had felt a little bad, once Damon had disappeared to his room, about pushing him so forcefully to talk about something so personal.

What he chose to do with himself was not her business.

So by way of apology, she had cleaned up their mess in the kitchen and had instead selected acceptable movie night finger foods to curb any cravings they might have.

When Damon had emerged and played along with the change, she had breathed out in relief.

And even though she still felt curious about him, his past, and the reasons behind the choices he had made, it was enough to be able to sit there in comfortable silence.

The popcorn bowl was empty within the first ten minutes of the movie, and by minute fifteen, there was a soft pressure on her side.

Elena looked over to see that Damon's eyes had fallen shut, and that his weight had shifted in her direction as he succumbed to sleep.

She smiled and kicked at him lightly, "Hey. Wake up."

Damon jolted, sitting upright, "What?"

"You were falling asleep," she accused teasingly.

"Was not," he grumbled out, but the gravel of his voice was a dead giveaway.

Elena fought back a smirk, "Uh huh, sureeeee. Now sit up and pay attention."

"I think you like ordering me around," he joked in return, but the words slurred a little.

She pretended to consider them, "Maybe just a little. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't listen to me. This is a good movie! You should watch it."

"Okay," Damon nodded, and started to adjust.

Before she could gloat her victory, however, he stretched out in her direction, and dropped all of his body weight into her lap.

"Oof," she groaned as a lot of solid muscle suddenly squashed her, "That is not at all what I said!"

She pushed at him with little affect, and Damon's arm wrapped around her waist as he practically snuggled into her stomach, "Are you sure? This is quite comfortable."

Elena laughed, but shoved at him again, until he maneuvered enough that she was able to find an agreeable position as well.

Damon didn't move away from her, but after a few seconds, she decided that she didn't want him to.

The pressure of his torso laying across her was far from uncomfortable, and he actually did look pretty peaceful, using her as a pillow.

Except, he wasn't sleeping anymore; and those bright eyes were glued to her face; warmer than she would have expected.

He really was a beautiful man, wasn't he?

Unable to help herself, Elena reached down and brushed the ends of his bangs back.

Damon stiffened, but didn't budge; so she did it again.

Then again, until she was stroking him...his hair...his cheek...his lips.

His eyes closed, and his body sagged into her as the petting continued, as if he had been carrying a great weight all this time, and had just been given permission to shuck it off.

The movie played on in the background as she watched Damon fade in and out of consciousness, amazed by how much softer he looked with all that stress out of his expression.

Her heart broke a little; maybe for him...maybe for herself; because if things were different…

Her body stilled as she chased away the thought, refusing to entertain any "what might have beens" and Damon's eyes opened.


"Sorry," she whispered, and started to pull her arm away from him, but his shot up to grab her hand.

"No," he said, just as quietly, "Please...do not stop yet."

Elena hesitated, but the unhindered vulnerability in those blue eyes made her comply with his wish.

She dropped her hand back to his head and kept stroking.

This time, she didn't stop, and Damon did not go back to sleep.

He did however, tighten his hold on her, and his head seemed to follow her hand, each time her caress reached the ends of his hair.

There was a wonderment in his expression, one that spoke of the lack of compassion and gentleness in his life.

She knew how it felt to lose a mother too young, to never be able to fill that hole where a child so desperately needed affection and love; but at least she had had her sister.

Damon had only had himself.

And how lonely that must have been, with a father more hellbent on revenge than being there to care for his son.

Could she even be surprised that Damon had become what he had?

Not that she was making excuses for his choices...but maybe she could understand them.

"I'm sorry," she told him kindly, "About your mom; about all of it."

Damon simply stared at her, "I am sorry about yours."

She kept up the stroking, "I had others to love me. I'm guessing you really didn't."

It took longer for him to answer this time, but at least he didn't bolt, "Love was of little importance after my mother was gone. Loyalty was what mattered to my father; loyalty and legacy. Though I suppose it's all bullshit."

He grabbed her hand and brought her palm to his lips in a soft kiss, "Neither saved them."

Elena swallowed, squeezing Damon's fingers in her own, "And what about you?"

A cold grin, "I am a touch beyond saving now."

"You really believe that?"

Damon released her hand and sat up, "Facts are not beliefs."

He sank back a little against the sofa, turned so that they were still facing each other, the movie playing on, forgotten in the background.

"I'm not sure I would agree with those facts," Elena said slowly, "Alaric and the others speak highly of you...you have been fair to me, even when you had a reason to kill me...you spared Katherine when you caught her at the club, you were even going to cook for me tonight…"

She couldn't help but give him a tiny smile when his gaze shot to her face, "Whatever you may be, whatever else you've done, I can't believe that you're all bad."

"Perhaps," Damon's jaw flexed as he took in her words, "That is just what you wish to believe."

"I believe what I see," she argued, holding his stare.

Those blue eyes didn't waiver from hers, "And what do you see, cara mia?"

You, she thought, but couldn't bring the word to her lips.

Not while he was wearing that expression, and they were so, so alone.

Something resonated in that piercing gaze of his, and for a moment, she understood exactly what Damon had been talking about that first night as his club.

His eyes were like the ones that stared back at her in the mirror...sad...empty...and her heart clenched in her chest at the familiarity.

This...bond that had formed between them may have started as mere lust, but something told her it ran deeper than that.

They had an understanding; one formed between two souls that had endured tragedy, and they were both so good at pretending to have control, despite the turmoil boiling beneath the surface.

"Well?" Damon pressed after a moment, "What do you see when you look at me, Elena?"

She swallowed, "I see...me."

It sounded silly when the words came out, but Damon didn't ask for an elaboration; he understood exactly what she meant, and that knowledge pulled more words from her.

"I just mean that I can relate...I get it. Not the criminal and revenge stuff, but why you ended up on that road. If it wasn't for Kat and…" she paused and cleared her throat, "If it wasn't for my family, I'm not sure how things would have turned out for me...I mean this isn't the life I would have imagined for myself, but I guess we never really know what we're capable of until we're forced into survival mode."


Survival mode.

Elena had hit the nail on the head with that one, had she not?

Damon had been operating on such a notion for as long as he could remember.

Survive. Wake up tomorrow. These were the goals, underlying all others, and the motions were so perfected by now, no one batted an eye at his performance.

But Elena knew. She saw through the bullshit and stared right at his core, which should probably scare the living shit out of him.

General rule of thumb in this life was to never let anyone too close.

The more relaxed you became, the more you would start to feel, and the more you feel, the more there is to lose.

And he had lost too much already. So had she.

Everything smart and self preserving within him agreed that this little soiree with Elena was dangerous, despite how badly he wanted it.

It was bad because he wanted it...wanted her.

Yet even knowing the imploding potential of this plan, he had not been able to stop himself from offering this job...from bringing her here and letting her turn him all inside out and melt him into the palm of her hands with hard questions and soft touches.

Elena was an addiction of the best sort, and no matter the risk, he just had to allow the indulgence.

Being with her...it was the first time he had felt anything in so long that was not apathy or anger.

Elena was real, complicated, warm...and he wanted so much more.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, and Damon realized he had been so lost in her that he'd missed his cue to respond.

"There is nothing to apologize for," he promised, and when she remained hesitant, he once again reached over for her hand.

However, this time, he used it to pull her across the couch, and felt relieved when Elena let him settle her body against his own.

He liked the feeling of her slight frame cushioned next to his, and her head fit against his shoulder so perfectly.

Elena sighed heavily as she sank into him and Damon wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her.

"We are who we are," he murmured, gaze settling on the abandoned television, "What happened in the past to get us here, whatever we had to survive...it does not matter anymore. We are here now. We are alive now. That can change tomorrow, or fifty years from tonight, and it still does not matter. We have this moment. That is all that is guaranteed...and there is nowhere else in the world that I would rather be."

Brown eyes flickered up as a shy smile lifted Elena's cheek at the admission.

"I'm exactly where I want to be, too," she divulged just as softly, and Damon gripped her a little more firmly, "Then we shall stay for as long as you like."

She laughed then, a real laugh that shook her long body, "As nice as that sounds, we did have a reason for coming up here, remember? Boss?"

Damon grinned at the endearment, liking it on her tongue, "If I am your boss, then I can fire you, no?"

Those eyes narrowed, "Don't even think about it, Mister. I was promised a payday for my services."

"Hmmm," Damon pretended to contemplate, "I could think of some other services for you to provide...right here in this suite…"

He probably deserved the elbow she dug into his rib.

"That's what you get," she smirked as he winced, before snuggling back against his chest, "Because I'm sure you had plenty of hookers to choose from if that's what you were looking for."

Damon smiled, "Even if the thought had crossed my mind, it would not have made a difference."

He stroked her hair, noting how soft it felt between his fingers, "Your face would still be the one I imagined while inside them."

Elena stiffened against him, and her cheeks were red when she looked up to meet his gaze.

She seemed to be gaging whether or not he was serious, and flushed even more when she realized he was.

For whatever reason, his body refused to be distracted by random pussy.

It wanted this woman in front of him, and no consolation prize was going to make up for the real thing.

Elena opened her mouth to respond, then shook her head, "You're supposed to be watching this movie."

With that, she turned, still in his arms, still pressing every straining curve against his all too willing libido, and focused on the television.

Damon sat frozen for a few moments, torn a million different ways in his reaction.

He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to run far away from the threat she presented. He wanted this moment of peaceful domesticity to never end. He wanted more and more and more.

A true addict.


He stayed there, suspended in this mental war until Elena started getting drowsy.

Only then did he move, to reach over for the blanket across the sofa and draped it over their bodies.

Elena made a noise of contentment and the movie came to an end with a dead elderly couple in their beds.

Damon had missed the context, but had no qualms about another movie night in the future.

Especially if it meant a sleepy Elena twisting and pulling at him until they were both laying horizontal on the couch, the credits rolling with some melody.

He grabbed the remote from where Elena had discarded it earlier and flipped the channel a few times, trying to prolong the moment.

The cable was programmed to his favorite channels and he settled on a classic Italian film he had watched several times in his youth called La Dolce Vita. The scene at the fontana di Trevi had been the beginning of his sexual awakening as a boy, though the blonde bombshell on the screen could not hold a candle to the beauty laying next to him now.

Damon turned the volume down low and allowed himself to get comfortable as well, ignoring the fact that he had a bed less than ten yards away that cost as much as a small car.

It could not offer the same comfort that he felt laying next to Elena.

"Goodnight, mi bellisima," he whispered, and placed a gentle kiss on the crown of her head.

There was a mutter of a response and Damon smirked, before glancing back to the television and proceeded to get lost in the jargon of his past, murmuring the lines to Elena until she was sound asleep, comfortable as could be; and his own eyes closed shortly after.


A little domestic fluff! Hopefully this makes up a little for the radio silence lol.

Let me know what you think! Oh, and thank you to everyone who has reviewed and asked about the story. If you ever have any questions, feel free to DM me! It's easier to respond that way :)