Glad ya'll seemed to like the last chapter lol
More of that to come, but this chapter is a little more angsty ;)
Enjoy!
"TIMBERWOLF FANS OUT IN THE STANDS,
STAND UP AND CLAP YOUR HANDS!
V-I-C-T-O-R-Y,
THAT'S OUR TIMBERWOLF BATTLE CRY!"
Elena yelled out the words to the cheer along with the rest of her squad, and forced a grin as the crowd in the bleachers screamed back at the top of their lungs.
"V-I-C-T-O-R-Y,
THAT'S OUR TIMBERWOLF BATTLE CRY!"
The repeated chant soon gave way to more excited whoops and hollers of actual victory, as the Mystic Falls Timberwolves scored yet another touchdown, and Elena waved her pom poms in the air as she joined the shouts with a few of her own.
To anyone watching, she would have seemed genuine in her elation, cheering the home team to a sure win, but inside, she just wanted the night to be over with.
Usually, Elena enjoyed everything about Friday night football; the routines, the game, the uniform, the fun of hyping up the fans from the sidelines...but things had been different since last week's incident.
Cheer practice had been a special kind of hell this week, since Caroline was team captain and the two were still at odds, but that would have been bearable, if not for the fact that the blonde kept making snide comments under her breath every time Elena was nearby.
Truthfully, she wasn't even sure why they were still giving each other the cold shoulder, seeing that she had decided to move on from the drama of last Friday night.
The decision had come to her Wednesday afternoon, a few hours after Damon had left to go home, and her parents were due for arrival.
Grayson and Miranda Gilbert were brilliant in their medical fields and expected no less than perfection from their only child, so their return home had brought with it an expected pressure that was almost nonexistent in their absence.
Elena had prepared for the usual run of the mill "welcome home" greetings, followed by questions of her activities during their week away.
She had prepped and practiced answers for any questions they might have, and there hadn't been a single hair or couch cushion out of place when the front door unlocked and her parents crossed the threshold.
However, it would seem that all of her stressing and preparations were unnecessary.
She had paused halfway down the stairs, her smile fading as Miranda and Grayson's voices had traveled up.
"This is what I am talking about Grayson! We're not even across town borders and she's calling you! How do you think that looks?"
"Miranda, I've told you-" her father's tired voice was cut off.
"No, you push me away with all of your excuses about work and patients and log hours, like I don't understand exactly what the job entails! And yet, I still manage to make time for our family! And if you would rather have an affair some twenty-something receptionist, well then you-"
Some racket echoed as, Elena assumed, suitcases here dropped in the foyer, "An affair? Really, Miranda? It was a brief online correspondence! And it's not as if you are putting a lot of effort into family time, either! Or need I remind you of the three times I had to reschedule our skiing trip to Aspen, which we still haven't taken!"
An indignant gasp, "Oh, will you let that go already?! I told you, the timing was just awful! It doesn't give you the right to…"
There was probably more said, but Elena had decided she'd heard enough and had disappeared back upstairs for the next half hour, when her mother had finally come up to announce that they were home.
Elena had smiled, hugged her, and pretended that she hadn't been eavesdropping.
A lot of tense silence had followed the incident, all the way into dinner, which had been delivered from the Grill.
"How was your week, dear?" Miranda had asked, as everyone sat down at the dining room table.
The expected question put a sour taste in Elena's mouth as she noticed her parents were avoiding each other's gazes.
"Fine," she said carefully, "Is everything alright with-"
"How were your classes? You mentioned that you had an Literature paper due," her mother interrupted, a subtle reminder to Elena that the taboo need never be mentioned, "How did it turn out?"
More questions burned on her tongue.
What had happened at the conference?
Had her father really been talking to another woman?
How long was the silent treatment going to last this time?
But all of these things were against the unspoken rule of the Gilbert house, in which everyone always pretended everything was fine, even if it wasn't.
So Elena talked about school.
She went on about her course work, and homework, and extra curriculars, and even mentioned that she had been tutoring upperclassmen, before she reached the inevitable boyfriend questions.
"Actually, Stefan and I are...taking a break, for the time being," she mentioned as casually as possible.
This had gotten both of her parents' attention in a way the discussion of her academics had not.
"Whatever for?" Miranda prodded with a disapproving frown, "His father is on the Board of Committees, you know. I don't think it's wise that you-"
"What your mother means," Grayson sliced in with a pointed look to his wife, "Is that Stefan is from a fine family, he's a smart boy, and the two of you have always gotten along well together."
"Precisely," Miranda allowed begrudgingly, "Why would you want to ruin that?"
Elena was tempted to tell them exactly what had happened in their absence, but knew that admitting to being at a kegger in the woods wouldn't win her any points.
"Things have changed between us," she said instead, being purposely vague, "We haven't made the break official or anything, but I'm beginning to feel like we're moving in that direction."
Her father had remained silent in response, merely acknowledging that she had spoken with a wave of his fork, but Miranda had a little more input.
"Well, that is the great thing about directions, isn't it? You can always change them back to the right path."
"Maybe I don't want to," Elena challenged, before thinking.
Miranda had paused, almost in surprise, then shook her head, "Stefan Salvatore is a good match for you, sweetheart. He's polite and modest, and a perfect gentleman. Two weeks ago you were raving about going to the Homecoming Dance with him. Whatever the issue is, I'm sure the two of you will work it out."
And with a sip of her wine, the discussion moved on to the conference, and the changes at the hospital, and this patient, and that nurse, ignoring the obvious elephant in the room...and Elena ate her dinner in silence like the perfect daughter she was.
The perfect daughter with the perfect boyfriend who had perfect grades and knew better than to tarnish that image with wild ideas like messy break ups, and dramatic admissions, like how said boyfriend wasn't as perfect as everyone wanted to believe.
In fact, nothing really was, but it didn't matter and she knew it.
Her parents loved her, of that she had no doubt, but it was arguable that they loved her more when she was the non problematic picture of propriety.
So that's exactly what she had decided to give them and everyone else, by reconciling with Stefan, ignoring thoughts of another Salvatore, and putting on a pretty smile for the crowd as she cheered for the football team.
The perfect picture.
But there was one problem…
"So were you as miserable out there as you looked?" Damon was waiting to tease her when she stepped off the field after the game.
He was in his typical dark jeans/leather jacket combo, leaning against the fence, and those smirking lips completed the devil-may-care vibe he had going on, "Or is that sour face some new cheer tactic I haven't heard of?"
Elena shouldn't have been surprised that he had seen right through her facade; he always had read her like an open book.
"I wasn't miserable," she defended despite that fact, "It's just cold, and I'm sore from practice."
"Right," Damon followed her through the departing crowd, and she rolled her eyes, "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you hated football games."
"I prefer the after parties to the games themselves," he admitted, "But I wanted to see you."
That shouldn't make her chest flutter, but it did, and she stopped to look at him, "Why?"
Damon glanced around, then took her arm and pulled her off to the side, in the shadows almost beneath the bleachers.
"I thought you had decided to cut your losses," he said when they had more privacy, and motioned toward the locker rooms where the football players had ran off to change, "Yet Stefan was telling me this morning that the two of you are working things out?"
Elena shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."
"You guess?" he prodded, taking a step closer to her, "What happened to not rushing your decision?"
The condescending tone riled her in an unexpected way, and Elena stiffened.
She had had enough judgement for one week and didn't have to take more from Damon fricken Salvatore, who was the last person with the right to judge anyone!
"I'm sorry," she snapped, "I completely missed the part of this conversation where I asked for your opinion."
She turned away, but Damon tightened his grip on her arm.
"Don't be mean to me because I'm calling you out," he chided, "You wanted my help getting Stefan's attention, and then you aren't sure what you want, and now you won't even text me back? What's that about?"
"Why does it matter?" She yanked her arm out of his hold, "And what do you care? God, it's not like you're my boyfriend!"
The easygoing expression left his face then and he moved so that their chests were almost touching.
"No, I'm your friend," he reminded her in a burning tone, "Who's concerned about the one-eighty you pulled in just forty-eight hours."
Elena bit her lip and tried to look away from that piercing gaze, but Damon was having none of it.
Gently, he reached up and touched her jaw, forcing her head forward until her eyes met his.
"Talk to me," he said softly as his fingertips brushed down her neck, until his palm came to rest on her shoulder.
She tried to resist the prodding of his gaze, but as it often did with Damon, her resolve crumbled beneath his touch, "Mom and Dad are home."
Damon arched a brow, but didn't comment.
She sighed, "I told Mom that Stefan and I were sort of taking a break. She didn't like that."
"So?"
Elena shook her head, "So...she and my dad work hard and they have a lot going on. The last thing they need to worry about is me making changes that involve other Founding Family members and messing up the respectable reputations they've built."
Damon scoffed, "Right. And I'm sure your mother's preference for Stefan has nothing to do with the fact that my father owns half the town and donates to the hospital regularly?"
The look she gave him was reprimanding, but there was truth in the statement that she didn't bother denying.
"She isn't a fan of change," Elena explained instead, then added bitterly, "And she doesn't want the pretty picture ruined."
"Meaning?" he challenged.
"That Stefan and I look good on paper," she laughed dryly, "We're the Mystic Falls IT couple, remember? Founding Family legacies. We're both interning with my father this summer as Ivy League prospects, so we can eventually graduate medical school together and have the perfect little life. We're the American dream. The football star and the cheerleader," she sighed deeply, "Telling my mother I'm dumping him because he cheated on me would be the equivalent of detonating a bomb on the perfect map she has drawn for my life, and she has enough of her own problems to deal with."
Ah, and that was it. The curse of the privileged.
Damon could hardly fault Elena for the method of self preservation when it came to dealing with her parents.
In Mystic Falls, being born to a Founding Family was akin to being royalty.
There were perks, such as getting chosen for committees, projects, and internships over more qualified students, or not getting expelled or arrested if you caused a little trouble.
You could skip class and still pass, get beer from the Grill without being carded, and there was a certain level of security in knowing that everyone would bend any rule for you and open any door, simply because of your last name.
However, the drawback came in the expectations.
The public scrutiny.
That if you fucked up badly enough, it would reflect poorly not just on you, but on your entire bloodline.
Damon had quit caring about the rumor mill after his mother had left them, but for someone like Elena, whose parents were particularly favored in the social order, image was everything.
And that was such bullshit.
"You're going to stay in a situation you're unhappy with just to save face?" he accused with a frown, "Way to stick to generational tradition."
Elena dropped her head back so that her face was pointed skyward, and she flinched as if he had slapped her.
"This isn't the same thing. Mistakes were made, but they can be rectified," she pointed out after a breath, "And it's not exactly like being with Stefan is a chore."
Now Damon was the one laughing, "Right. Because who doesn't want a self absorbed golden boy that does nothing but rave about athletic achievements and makes you feel inadequate because he's too busy panting over your best friend to care about your desires?"
Elena scowled and shoved at his chest until he stumbled back a step, "You're an ass."
"Oooh," he mocked as he regained balance, "Better be careful. Someone important might hear you using a curse word. Wouldn't want to tarnish your image."
"Shut up," she growled at him.
"Why?" he pressed, "Afraid I might be right? I am and we both know it. And trying to impress the town council or your parents isn't worth living a lie. Stefan doesn't make you happy and he hasn't for some time. You just don't want to admit it to yourself."
Anger boiled in Elena's eyes, causing a flush through her face as her lip curled, "You know, that's rich! Coming from a guy whose idea of a "relationship" is a quick hook up in a supply closet during a school assembly."
Damon narrowed his gaze and she smirked humorlessly, "Rebekah's on the squad, remember? We heard all about your five minute fumble."
The insult was implied with an air of superiority, but Elena was mistaken if she thought he was embarrassed by her retort.
"Five minutes was all it took for me to make her cum," he said heatedly, "I work fast...as I'm sure you recall."
He touched her waist, sliding over the skin revealed by her uniform, and Elena shivered, before slapping his hand.
"Stop it!" she hissed, her eyes darting around as she remembered they were in public, and her voice lowered, "You can't touch me like that."
"Why not?" he challenged back, "It's not like I haven't already."
"This...this is different," she all but whispered, a real blush on her cheeks now.
Damon smirked, "Because someone might get the wrong idea? Or worse, because Stefan might see? I mean, he did fuck your best friend though, so it's tid for tad, don't you think?"
Elena's eyes widened, before glancing around again to make sure no one had overheard.
When she refocused on him, tears were threatening to well, "Why are you being like this?"
The biting edge was gone from her voice, and the rawness left drew him up short.
Why was he being like this?
Because he was annoyed about her willingness to sweep everything under the rug?
To ignore what she really wanted, and what she needed, just because it was easier for the rest of the town to swallow?
Truthfully, it was her life and her choice to make...so why did he feel like he was the one being cheated?
How the fuck did that make any sense?
"I...I don't know. I'm sorry," he told her, and he tried to mean it.
He hadn't intended to lash out at her, and wasn't entirely sure why he was so bothered.
Something about this girl riled him in the worst of ways and it was beginning to really grate on him.
And her too, apparently, if the hand that had found her hip was any indication of her mood.
Fuck, she looked too good like this, all heated and pissed at him.
Damon shook his head, trying to clear it, "I didn't mean to upset you."
That seemed to help douse her a little, and her gaze softened.
Then she reached over and took his hand, "Look Damon, I know you're just trying to be a good friend, but-"
Her words were cut off with the arrival of reality.
"Babe, hey! Did you see that toss I made from the thirty yard?" Stefan had found them and was still hyped from the game, "Perfect spiral! I can't believe Matt didn't catch it!"
Elena let go of Damon's hand like it had burned her and that practiced smile parted her lips as she turned toward his brother, "Oh. Yeah, I saw."
Stefan threw an arm around her, "He promised an apology beer and a round of pool at the Grill. Did you want to come?"
Her eyes flickered over to Damon in hesitance, and Stefan took notice.
"Oh, Damon. I didn't know you were going to be here tonight," he acknowledged his presence with a grin, "Did you even watch the game or were you busy here under the bleachers?"
Damon grit his teeth, and gave a smile as fake as Elena's, "I managed to keep myself entertained. You know how I have a soft spot for cheerleaders."
Elena glared at him, but Stefan merely chuckled, ignoring the look that passed between them.
Has he always been this unobservant? Damon couldn't help but wonder.
"Well, we're going to the Grill, if you weren't too busy to tag along," Stefan offered, obviously referring to Elena and himself, despite the fact that the girl in question hadn't actually agreed to go.
But why would she say no? It was the perfect chance to keep up this game of charades she was playing.
"Rain check," he answered, and noticed the relief that crossed Elena's expression.
Wasn't that just a kick to the gut.
"If you insist," Stefan shrugged, then turned to face his girlfriend, "I have my car, so I'll meet you there?"
Elena fake smiled again, "Sure."
Then Stefan kissed her and Damon got whiplash from the emotions that burrowed through him at the painfully familiar sight.
Shock. Disappointment. Hurt. Rage.
The anger surprised him the most with its intensity and he was overcome with the need to lay his brother out in a solid punch.
Now that he knew first hand the tantalizing warmth of Elena's sweet mouth, seeing it pressed against someone else stirred feelings in him he didn't want to acknowledge.
Especially considering Stefan didn't deserve, or appreciate, what her lips were capable of.
It wasn't fair.
How dare he show up now, of all times, playing the good boyfriend, after everything he had done, or hadn't done, to the contrary!
How dare he kiss Elena like he had earned the right to?
Wasn't Caroline or some other willing bimbo around for him to occupy his time with?
Why couldn't he just leave Elena the hell alone?
It took a few seconds and a clenched fist for Damon to regain control of his thoughts, and by then Stefan was pulling away and saying goodbye to them.
Damon nodded in response, but didn't trust himself to speak.
He looked at Elena, focusing on her eyes, which were following Stefan's retreat, and his chest tightened.
She was becoming a bad habit that he needed to quit.
Now.
She was his brother's girl, and he needed to let her go be with Stefan.
She wanted to be with Stefan; had tried to learn sex tips from him to please Stefan.
It was only a matter of time before she would be in Stefan's bed; she would lose her virginity...to Stefan.
The thought made him sick to his stomach; that his unfaithful, douche of a brother was going ruin the entire experience for her with rushed, horny, hands and an impatient hard-on that cared nothing for her pleasure or comfort.
But Elena didn't seem to care.
That had always been the endgame for her...it was always Stefan.
"Damon-" her voice was small in the aftermath and he flinched.
"It's okay," he told her, and the lie didn't even sting as it came off his tongue, "You should go."
"Yeah…" the hesitation was obvious and that gaze of hers raked all over him, studying, questioning.
He forced that smile again, "We're good, Gilbert. I'm just in a mood tonight. Probably from a lack of getting laid. I'll find a quick fix later and be good as new by morning."
The compassion in her gaze vanished at his crastness and she shook her head, "Well, I hope you have fun with that."
"Oh, I plan to," he assured her, keeping the smirk in place until she exhaled with a huff and walked away from him.
And it wasn't until her back was turned that he let the smile falter.
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