Chapter 6: The Things We Do For Love

CAROLINE

Is it wrong to ogle a boy's butt when he's drinking the blood of woodland creatures?

I mean, a fine-looking behind knows no occasion, right? But I still feel like a little bit of a pervert, so I clasp my hands behind my back and study the play of light through the leaves. It's nice, all green and gold and nature-y. But it's got nothing on Stefan's ass.

My fiancé covers the body of the rabbit with leaves and wipes his mouth before turning back to me, but I still see the grimace on his lips and I wince in sympathy. Animal blood is nastier than fat-free salad dressing.

"The smaller rabbits taste better," he admits. "Something about the breed."

"So picky," I tease.

His face lightens, his usual hint of post-feed guilt fading as he takes a threatening step toward me. "Take that back."

I dance back out of his grasp, grinning. "Make me…"

He growls and lunges and I dodge around a tree and flit away into the woods, grinning to feel the wind lifting my hair. An arm snakes around my waist and he whirls me back against a tree. The speed of the run drew night-colored veins around my eyes, sharpening the whole world around me so the rough bark scraping my back feels as good as the pressure of his chest against me.

He takes my mouth in a kiss so fierce that it presses my head back against the tree, the bark catching in my hair as his tongue rasps against mine. Blood rushes molten underneath my skin and I vaguely realize that if I don't call a time-out soon, I'll be teaching a little hot yoga in the forest before my afternoon Starbucks date with Elena.

Stefan pulls back, his green eyes glittering with focus and I nearly forget all the reasons why I don't want to have gymnastic sex in public right now. But wait, no, I don't have time before I have to be back to town and I sure don't have enough time to re-curl my hair.

"Eww, you taste like an animal," I complain, wrinkling my nose playfully.

My voice is a little too breathy to be convincing but Stefan looks chagrined anyway, pulling back a little as if he's afraid his breath smells bad.

"Sorry. You know you don't have to come hunting with me. There's no reason for you to put up with eating animals when you do fine with blood bags."

"I had to watch football with my ex," I remind him. "This is much better, I promise. Besides, you're supposed to make sacrifices for the ones you love and you do so much better with animal blood to supplement the blood bags."

"Sacrifices, huh?" his lips quirk up into a smile. "Is that how I ended up losing all my Friday nights to watching America's Next Top Model?"

"It only counts as a sacrifice if you don't like it," I remind him.

He can name his favorite contestant from every episode for the last two seasons, and I don't think it has anything to do with his perfect vampire memory. His favorites are never the winners, of course. My man has a thing for the underdog.

"My point exactly. That's why I think you should be trading me sexual favors for watching with you," Stefan bluffs, his fingers tracing a deliberate path up the back of my thigh and creeping under the hem of my skirt.

"What kind of girl do you think I am, trading my body to get what I want?" I ask indignantly, catching his hand before it can get any closer into the danger zone.

He drops his voice until it is that rumbly murmur that traces goosebumps all across my skin. "You traded your body to me for wartime secrets."

I blush and press my legs together. There's no way I'm going to make it to my girl time coffee date if he uses that voice.

"That was different," I hiss. "That was role play." And once I saw Stefan in his old WWII uniform, I would have sold him any secret in the world.

His hand sneaks up my skirt again and this time I don't really want to stop him.

"This can be role play," he offers. "I can be the football player, copping a feel off a cheerleader."

I laugh, my head falling back against the tree as his breath caresses my throat. "That sounds super skeezy."

He sighs and tightens his arm around my waist, tipping us over backward. I squeal as we fall, Stefan landing flat on his back with me on his chest. He grins, unfazed, and catches my earlobe between his teeth.

"You could be an evil succubus, taking advantage of my body."

I roll us so I'm beneath him again. "You were the soldier. Maybe I'm an innocent young maiden you rescued from a crossfire deep behind enemy lines," I suggest, widening my eyes so I look young and vulnerable.

He chuckles dryly. "Trust me, that one's not as fun when you've been around for the real version."

I wince, abashed. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he reassures me with a soft kiss. "I'd much rather you grew up now rather than then. It's safer." He pulls my shirt off and tosses it away into the trees, his eyes gleaming when he sees the pink and lavender lace of my bra. "Better lingerie now, too."

He reaches behind his head with one hand and grasps the back of his hoodie, but when he tries to pull it off it binds up, blinding him. He tugs harder, unbalancing himself and he tips off of me, the hoodie wrapped completely around his head.

I reach to help, but I'm laughing too hard to do anything but get in the way. I hear material tearing as he finally gets it off, tossing it down and glaring at it.

"Stupid shirt, I was trying to be smooth!" he tells it accusingly.

I shriek with laughter, rolling away from him to clutch my stomach.

He pounces on me and gives me a narrow-eyed look. "Are you laughing at me?"

"You are the world's biggest nerd," I giggle, wiping at my watering eyes with the heel of one hand. "Did I just smear my eyeliner?"

Stefan perks up. "We could play nerd and cheerleader?"

I laugh. "Too close to reality to be fun."

He purses his lips. "Ha ha. Very funny."

I grin, because he's adorable when he's trying to pretend to be mad.

"Look up," he tells me, and I do. He runs a gentle thumb under my eye, then touches the corner of my eye with a knuckle, getting the last traces of smeared eyeliner. "Perfect," he proclaims softly.

I wrap my arms around his neck. "Being charming doesn't make you less of a nerd."

"Being beautiful doesn't make you less mean," he accuses, widening his eyes in the same trick I just used on him.

"I'll show you mean," I threaten, rolling us so he's beneath me and pinning his hands over his head. Hard, so he knows I mean it.

His eyes flare with heat, and I lick my lips slowly, deliberately.

"Come down here and do that," he invites huskily, his eyes tracing the curve of my mouth with obvious approval.

And I do.

DAMON

I'm reading in the upstairs study when I hear the front door slam.

I've taken to avoiding the living room when I want to read ever since Caroline moved in. She always asks me about my day, and then I have to listen to her talk about what color ribbons she's going to put on Stefan's dick after the wedding, or where the best place to buy organically dyed blue birdseed is. Because of course she doesn't want the little birdies to die but regular birdseed is so ugly and it just looks like trash and it ruins her whole design scheme and yeah. No.

Welcome to my life. Its loud and fucking color-coordinated and I'm pretty sure the noise pollution alone is going to make me grow ovaries.

I listen for a second to figure out who just came home. I pick up a stifled giggle that sounds like Elena and then soft footsteps that mean she's tiptoeing, but not actually paying enough attention to be really quiet. Which means she's looking for me and she's in a playful mood. I smirk and mark my place in my book with a dark bit of lace, going to stand to the left of the doorway.

I stop breathing and wait. She checks the kitchen and living room, then our room. I hear the crinkling of paper for a moment in our room, which is suspicious. Now she's tiptoeing really fast, like she does when she's trying not to laugh, and I grin. I wonder what she's about to spring on me. It must be something good if she's going to this much trouble.

She comes through the door and looks to the right. I'm on her in an instant, pinning her arms to her sides and biting her neck with blunt human teeth and a fierce growl.

She shrieks loudly and tries to elbow me in the stomach. "Oh my God, Damon, what are you doing?"

I nibble on her neck. "Um, biting you?"

She makes a sound halfway between a hum and a purr and relaxes. "Carry on."

I nip her gently, and then trace the marks with my tongue. She makes a low sound in her throat and my heart jumps eagerly in response because I can tell she's in the mood for something a little sharper.

"Give you a real bite if you tell me what's in the bag," I bargain.

She's carrying a silver gift bag stuffed with yellow tissue paper that I recognize from the stack of gift-wrapping supplies she keeps in our closet.

Apparently this is a thing. A thing chicks do. They keep gift wrapping supplies on hand all year in case they need to wrap gifts at a moment's notice, presumably under enemy fire.

She beams. "A present for you."

I nuzzle a kiss into her cheek, because she's adorable when she's happy. Though who am I kidding? My girl would be adorable six days into an eight-day flu wearing a hot dog costume with the Sorting Hat.

I peer suspiciously over her shoulder at the gift bag. "What kind of present?"

It's not my birthday, or our anniversary. I think for a minute and decide it is also not the anniversary of the first time we met, kissed, or slept together. It could be the anniversary that someone died, but I can't figure why Elena would give me a present for that. We had ridiculously great sex this morning, so maybe that earned me a gift?

She giggles and flushes guiltily. "How about an I'm-mad-at-Caroline-and-Stefan-for-what-they-did-to-you present?"

I raise an eyebrow. Caroline went after me last week over one of my better pranks. It would have been just another day at the races, but when she tried to kick my ass this time, she was armed and Elena was having none of it. And of course then Stefan got mad because the girls were fighting and what could have been a fantastic catfight degenerated into a lecture from the Fun Police.

It's a vaguely irritating memory, but I'm growing more fond of it now that it has somehow resulted in Elena buying me presents and laughing and tiptoeing around like a mischievous burglar. And honestly, when she looks at me like this it makes it hard to think about anything but how to make her eyes sparkle all over again.

"Stop smiling at me and open your present!" she groans.

"Okay," I tell her agreeably.

I drop onto the couch, pulling her onto my lap and starting to carefully undo the tiny buttons on her plum-colored Henley.

"Wrong present, Damon," she says dryly. "But good try."

"Hey, all my present-identification experience says that the gift is the one with the bow on top."

Elena's brown eyes drop to her outfit, then to the gift bag. "Think we're fresh out of bows here. You might need an updated method."

I smile wickedly and slide a finger under the button of her jeans. She gasps and grabs my wrist, but I don't miss the way she leans subtly backward to make more room for my hand.

I tap my index finger against the tiny bow at the top of her panties and give my eyebrows a bounce.

She glares at me, but I can see the corners of her mouth twitching as she tries to hold back a smile.

"How did you know my underwear had a bow on it?" she challenges.

"The only ones that don't are the red ones, and you wore those yesterday," I say easily, tracing the lace that guards the edge of her panties. Her grip on my wrist loosens.

"If you don't stop that, you're going to ruin your surprise," she protests, her eyes lingering on my lips as if she's wondering how I'll taste.

I lean in and kiss her slow and soft, stroking her belly with my single rogue finger. When I pull back, her eyes are dilated and she's forgotten to breathe.

I smile. "I hate to ruin surprises."

Actually, I'd be content to spend another half an hour enjoying Elena's smile before I unwrap her because I know what's under that Henley trumps any surprise on earth. But she seemed so pleased with what was in the bag that maybe I can do that and then continue on down the to-do list. Win win.

I transfer her to the seat next to me on the couch and open the bag.

Inside there is a neatly folded stack of clothes. At a glance, they don't seem like my normal colors.

Shit.

When Stefan and Caroline got together, she got him to switch from gel to mousse (huge improvement, even I'll admit) and wear nicer jeans, though she hasn't made a dent in his hoodie habit. I guess it was only a matter of time before Elena embarked on a Damon makeover. The hell of it is, as much as I love her, I have better taste than Elena does.

I pick up the first article of clothing, trying to figure out a way to not wear any of these without disappointing her. Then I notice with a surge of relief that the shirt is ripped. Not a present then. Something else. I play along, though, just out of sheer curiosity.

"A hoodie?" I scoff. "Elena, I know you're not into fashion, but really? Why would I wear a garment with a flap of fabric that I do not intend to use?"

"You wouldn't?" She blinks at me, wide-eyed. "Really?"

Ladies and gentleman, the worst poker face in the state of Virginia. Every muscle in her face is taut, trying to hold back her smile.

I pull a pink and purple bra out of the stack and dangle it by the strap. "Aww, you shouldn't have."

She giggles, her face-cracking grin back in place. "Wanna know where I got them?"

"You mugged a teenybopper on her way to have malts with her boyfriend at the Grill?"

She looks puzzled. "What's a malt? Like malt liquor?"

I sigh heavily. "See, this is what they never tell you about having a mid-life crisis. Your hot younger girlfriend will never get your jokes about Trapper Keepers, pedal cars and the tubes in the TV."

"Tubes?" she's fully distracted now. "There are tubes in the TV and they're called Trapper Keepers?"

"It's a good thing you're cute," I tell her, "because your historical knowledge of cultural references is abysmal."

"Damon!" she says, actually bouncing a little in her frustration, which is both cuter and more distracting than outdated pop culture references. "Don't you want to know where I got the clothes?"

"I assumed that a young tomboy saw you, declared her love on the spot and when she was denied, dropped her oversized hoodie to prove her sincerity."

She lifts an eyebrow.

"No?" I shrug. "Well, it was worth a try."

"Sooooo," she says, drawing it out. "Caroline and Stefan went hunting in the woods and I was going to follow them and try to prank them somehow–" she begins.

I try to hold back a smile. Elena is not exactly a masterful pranker and it's too fucking good that she just wandered out in the woods without a plan hoping she'd think of something. I'd tease her, but she wants to get back at Caroline and Stefan, and if my girl wants to stand up for me? I'm not going to argue. Of course, I wouldn't mind if there was Jell-O wrestling involved, but it's not an absolute requirement.

"And then they started to have sex," she reports, her lip curling a little in disgust.

I wince. "You should have seen that coming. Do you want me to get you an appointment with a good therapist?"

"No, listen," she tells me. "I was really really quiet, and I remembered all the tricks you showed me." She reclines dramatically on the couch next to me and pretends to examine her nails, but her eyes are shining. "And I maybe stole all their clothes."

"You did?" I drawl admiringly. "Well, you naughty little thing."

I give her a wink and sift through the pile with renewed interest. "Everything but the socks and shoes. I'll be damned.

I tug her back into my lap and wrap my arms around her slender waist. "Do you know why I love you?"

"Because I'm the only other person on earth you trust to clean your precious shower?"

"Close," I tell her, sliding her phone out of her back pocket to check the time. I push it back into her pocket nice and slow, watching her cheeks flush pink and her breathing quicken as my fingers caress her bottom through her jeans.

"Mostly it's because I'm having a Council meeting here in less than ten minutes," I tell her. "Which means that when Stefan and Caroline come storming back in sans vetements, and furious with me because they'll never suspect you, they can do it with the full complement of witnesses. Including the mayor."

"And the sheriff," Elena finishes in a horrified whisper, her hand covering her mouth and eyes wide. "Oops."

I tug her hand away from her mouth and kiss her fingers, not bothering to hide my proud smile. "You, Elena Gilbert, give the best presents ever."