AN: I am so sorry about the delay, and this chapter isn't that much really. The next (hopefully better) chapter should hopefully be up much sooner.
She wakes up reaching for him, her hand inches away from his arm and even as she stretches towards him she knows he's not sleeping peacefully, it's clear from the expressions flickering across his face. Rolling closer so she's pressed against him, Elena rubs Stefan's shoulder, hoping that her touch will help him in some way, bring him at least a little comfort. Part of her is still surprised that when she wakes up reaching for him she can simply stretch her hand and there he is, close besides her and still not close enough. Stefan's back in her arms, her bed, her life, but it's not the same as before, before when she wouldn't have to reach for him because he'd be holding her so tightly as if he never wanted to let her go even for an instant.
Soon, she hopes, they'll be like that. Soon he won't be afraid around her, scared of losing control and hurting her or worse, being in control and still hurting her.
Sighing a little, Elena traces patterns on his shoulder and closes her eyes. The past day with Stefan had felt like a gift, even if they had spent most of it with searching for the dagger and finding nothing; yet at the end of the day she didn't have to return alone to her house feeling like a ghost wandering through an abandoned home. Stefan had cooked (she'd forgotten how much she'd missed that) and she couldn't stop touching him, afraid that he was merely a figment of her imagination soon to vanish to leave her alone with only memories and shadows.
He shifts besides her and she feels his arm snake around her waist, his hand resting lightly on her back as his lips press against her forehead. Even this, the little light kiss, makes her shiver and she opens her eyes, meeting his, and for a moment it's like nothing's changed between them at all.
"Morning," Elena whispers, a silly smile tugging across her face.
Stefan ducks his head a little and Elena laughs as she rolls them over so she's staring down at him, her breath caught in her throat as he looks up at her with that look. Slowly, her lips find his and all thoughts fly from her head as his tongue attacks her and the familiar heat rushes through her body. A heavy moan escapes her and his hands tug at her tank top, her hips rocking gently against him.
Then it happens. Against her lips she feels his teeth sharpen and the now familiar sound of his face changing forces her eyes to spring open to meet his own panicked-filled, blood-tinged eyes. He pulls away in an instant, but he doesn't try to hide his face this time (progress, albeit not much, Elena thinks).
"Sorry," he mutters after a moment after his face has returned to normal. Only then does he touch her again, his hand tentatively grazing her arm.
Elena pulls him back to her, settling his head on her chest and cradling him close, tugging lightly at his hair. Taking a chance, she knows, her heartbeat so close to him, her blood practically calling to him.
"I missed you," she tells him simply. "Being with you, obviously..." a blush spreads across her cheeks. "Even just sitting next to you in French class, I missed that."
Stefan's hand slips into hers and she continues, her voice soft and nearly a whisper. "I missed just talking to you or, you know, not talking...Sometimes with others I find myself just needing to fill the air with words even if it's just, I don't know, talking about shoes or something-not that shoes aren't important and yes, I desperately need a new pair and yes, you are welcome to help me with that project."
Good, she thinks as a lazy smile begins to spread across his face.
"Sometimes I forgot-I'd be reading and then I'd wonder what you thought about the book, if when you read it the same things jumped out at you or bothered you. Or I'd see an ad for a movie and know that I wanted to see it with you. I think I must have planned a million dates, thought of a thousand lame excuses to invite you over. I'd think about restaurants to try or places to visit-take a college trip with you, maybe check out all the schools you went to. I'd pick up the phone and then..." she stops, realizing what she's about to say, the harshness of the words that she needs to say and still doesn't think that she can really say them, not to him, not now. He doesn't need to hear that, not now when everything is so fragile when the balance between them is still off-kilter and both of them recovering from aching wounds.
Stefan shifts so he's looking up at her, eyes so green and deep, eyes Elena knows by heart and still can't look away. He strokes her cheek, letting his finger slip down her neck to ghost across the scar. "And then," he prompts, a hitch in his voice as he bites his lip.
"And then I'd remember," she says reluctantly. "That Stefan-the one who brought me flowers or made sure I could still laugh-he was gone," her voice cracks a little. "I'd remember that the Stefan I knew had become someone I didn't know at all."
She digs her fingers into his hair, grasping it tightly. "When we spoke, sometimes it was like talking to a stranger and sometimes it wasn't and that almost made it worse. It hurt talking to the Ripper, but not as much as afterwards, because I knew you could care and you-you didn't want to and I hated you for not allowing yourself to feel. I was jealous because you wouldn't let yourself feel and I felt so much."
Tears, hated tears, stream down her face, leaving ugly trails behind that burn into her skin. "I tried so hard to let you go, to just give up and move on," Elena whispers. "But I couldn't because I watched you take the easy way out by giving up, and I knew I couldn't do that. Half the time I thought I was delusional and completely fuck-up, just a weak little girl who couldn't let go of a ghost. Maybe that's all I am, a weak little girl lost in a fantasy."
"Elena," Stefan makes her look at him, cupping her face, fingering her tears. "You are the strongest person I know- I love you so hard, I am so sorry for what I did to you-I know that's not enough, it will never be enough to say I'm sorry."
That only makes her cry harder and she buries her face in his chest, mourning the lost months and how nearly all of them are broken now, how everyone's lost so much and almost surely because of her. Then she hears him, his quiet whispers, his voice against her skin, words that she can't quite comprehend but that comfort her just the same, make it easier to look up at him and face the world. She's a mess, she knows it, wild hair and puffy, red face and honestly, if it were anyone other than Stefan she'd duck away. Because it's Stefan she can't hide.
He plants delicate kisses on her face and neck, hesitating only a moment before kissing the faint scar, his tongue lightly running across it as if to erase the memory of the last time his mouth was in that spot. Slowly, he rolls them over so she's pressed against the mattress, her heart in her throat because there's so much fire and heat in his eyes, passion she hasn't seen in ages. Their lips meet and she nearly falls apart from the intensity, her body limp as his hands skirt beneath the hem of her (his) shirt, trace her hip and curve around her thigh, dance up to her breast, squeezing and stroking her skin.
When it happens this time she doesn't let him pull away; when the fangs and veins appear, his eyes filled with blood and darkness Elena holds him close to her even as he begins to shake.
"Stefan," she murmurs. "I love you."
She runs her fingers over his face, tracing the foreign ridges and bumps, gently smoothing the skin that is so familiar to her and yet different every time. Slowly, knowing he's freaking out (it's written all over his face), she kisses him, a wet, open kiss, her tongue darting out to skim the fangs.
Ever so slowly, gingerly almost, Stefan kisses her back and Elena smiles, knowing he can feel that smile. Her hands dance about, skimming across his back and pulling his tank top up, and then his hands begin to move about her body, the dance beginning again.
"Just ignore it," Elena moans when his phone rings. "Ig-," His lips find hers and she doesn't finish the sentence, the phone becomes a distant memory as the kisses become sloppy and deep, her legs wind around his.
When the phone rings again (hers this time), Stefan doesn't even say anything, he just rolls them over and her legs fall apart as she arches into him. His eyes meet hers and she swears there's a smirk on his face, a certain cockiness in his eyes as he makes her fall to pieces.
Only when they hear footsteps on the stairs do they stop, but they're still tangled together when Caroline bursts into the room, phone pressed to her ear, the worried expression that quickly becomes one of glee and embarrassment.
"Um, Damon?" she says. "Forget that last bit. They're totally, completely fine. Better than fine."
Stefan rolls his eyes as he sits up and takes the offered phone as she explains, "Damon was convinced you'd both been kidnapped because you weren't answering your phones. Paranoid much?"
Elena raises an eyebrow as Damon's irritated voice permeates the air and Stefan winces even as he gets up, brushing a kiss across Elena's hand before walking out into the hallway, his voice tight and low. Even though she knows he's coming back, that this is only a little lull, she hates to see him walk away, still smarting from all those times when he walked away and didn't look back.
"Elena!" Caroline's practically doing jazz hands. "When were you going to tell me? When did this happen? Who else knows? How did it happen, I need details, footnotes even, and I don't just want the short version."
"Um, it happened a day ago, really," Elena laughs a little because it's so strange and new. A few days ago she wouldn't have thought that Stefan would even be close to kissing her again, let alone...her face heats up just picturing the look in his eyes a moment before. "Sorry, I just... no one knows, really. I guess I just wanted some time, you know? Time for us to just... get back to being us."
"And I totally get that-support that, completely, one-hundred percent, but we're still in crisis mode and that means answering your phones unless you want people to completely freak out," Caroline says and then her face clouds over. "I guess that explains it." At Elena's questioning look she sighs and explains, "Damon. He was being more... Damony than usual on the phone. yelling at me for no apparent reason, telling me how stupid I am and ordering me around like he's some kind of drill sergeant."
"I'm sorry, Caroline."
"That's kind of been our relationship-at least now he can't compel me," Caroline shrugs. "Although it's not like he's so great at running things- I would pay good money to see him put together a dance," she laughs a little. "Anyways. How's Stefan? I feel bad, I've been avoiding him ever since... well, you know, and he's done so much for me, I should have... well, I shouldn't have avoided him."
"I was avoiding him too, mostly," Elena glances at the not quite shut all the way door. "He's recovering. He's still shaky, quiet. Quieter than usual, I mean. He's not back yet, and I don't know-he thinks he can't go back to who he was, but... maybe he can't, but it's not like I'm the same person either."
"None of us are. Fucking Originals," Caroline sighs. "Seriously, if either of you need to talk or anything, I'm here. Well, I'm not always great with listening, but I make some damned good pep talks."
"Yes, you do. And thanks, Care, seriously," Elena hugs Caroline tightly. When she looks up Stefan's leaning against the doorframe, the frown on his face falling away when her eyes meet his.
"Well," Caroline gets up and retrieves her phone. "I have a million and one things to do for the dance including finding the perfect dress and hunting down some decent decorations because the ones we have are so not even close to my standards. So yeah, answer your freaking phones and tell Damon that I'm not a messenger, I'm trying to coordinate the perfect dance which you two better be attending."
She gives Stefan a tight hug before waving, a pleased smile on her face when he hugs her back.
The spell seems broken now that someone else has actually been there, but that's okay, really.
"Hi," Elena murmurs, suddenly shy, aware of how her hair is mussed and her shirt's falling off.
"Hi," Stefan walks over to her and she leans against him, pressing her forehead against his stomach.
"We have to actually go out and do stuff, don't we," she asks, although it's really not a question, not from the look on his face as he came back to the room or the frantic way Damon had tried to reach them.
Stefan fists some of her hair and lets it slide between his fingers. "Alaric and Damon want to meet-believe it or not, the stake is still missing and Klaus is well, making sure that everyone knows he's unhappy."
"Isn't that what he normally does?" Elena grumbles.
"They want to meet us at noon-Ric wants to check one last place before we meet."
"Okay," Elena brushes her lips across Stefan's hand, placing lingering kisses on each of his fingers. "But we don't have to go anywhere just yet."
Not that Stefan was thinking about moving.
