Thanks again for all the reviews! I wrote this chapter with you guys in mind - I got Damon's PoV in because it seemed necessary. :) Bit of a filler chapter, but don't worry. Plot movement will resume next chapter. Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think!

Elena decided that despite her appalling culinary skills, she was going to try and cook anyway. Meredith dropped by as Elena was putting the groceries away in the fridge. She was picking up a few things before heading out for the evening. Elena cooking (or even looking like she was going to) was such an unusual occurrence that Meredith got curious.

"Who's all the effort for? Stefan?" Meredith asked. Elena peeked around the fridge door at Meredith, who was watching her.

"God no. I think he's leaving soon, anyway." Elena said. Stefan had said he would be around for a few days; it had been a few days.

"And you're okay with that?"

"I think so." Elena admitted. She was over Stefan, true. She'd moved on. She felt free from the chains she'd wrapped herself in, all with his name on them. But she didn't know how she felt. True, they'd talked yesterday, and it had been nice. Friendly almost. She certainly didn't feel angry at him anymore. But she was still...irked. She was just so determined to move past it that she'd made an effort to be friendly yesterday. It had worked. She could see them being friends. But at the same time, she wished Stefan would just leave. She couldn't handle his blindness, and his determination to turn everything back onto Damon. It wasn't always Damon's fault. Yes, he made mistakes. But so did they. For instance, Elena had made a mistake when she slapped Damon. She'd made mistakes every second since she'd been left alone. And even now Damon was back, trying to help, she still made them.

"One of those relationships, huh?" Meredith asked. Elena nodded. "So, the food is for..?"

"Damon's coming over." Elena said simply. Meredith's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Is that the best idea?" Meredith asked. Elena looked over to her flatmate, surprised and confused.

"What do you mean?" Elena asked, sounding a little suspicious. Elena mentally slapped herself. She had no reason for her suspicions. She needed to cool it off. Now. Meredith seemed to be deciding what to say.

"Well, I mean, with all the stuff with Stefan...you might make a mistake or two." Meredith said carefully. Elena had a nagging feeling that it wasn't what Meredith had wanted to say. Although the point was still valid. She seemed to be screwing everything up lately. She wouldn't be surprised if she made a monumental mistake and lost everyone. Again. Elena was wondering if she might deserve it these days. But that was harsh. Wasn't it?

"I'll be fine, Meredith. I promise not to burn down the flat." Meredith just shrugged, before picking up her bag off of the sofa.

"Fine. Have fun, then?" Meredith proposed. Elena smiled.

"You too." As Meredith left, Elena couldn't help but feel she knew more than she was letting on. Something (sadly) wasn't quite right. Elena wondered if she was over thinking.

Elena didn't bother to start cooking until Damon was due to turn up. That way, at least if something went badly wrong, someone that could survive in a kitchen would be able to help. It was odd. Elena could cook, to a degree. She could throw a packet in a microwave or just shove something in the oven for whatever it said on the packet. She could handle the basics. But the second it came to trying to actually make something out of raw ingredients, Elena failed miserably. Her father had made great efforts when she was younger, trying to teach Elena to cook. For the most part, it hadn't been too successful.

Yet Elena knew exactly why she was making an effort. She was trying to make it up to Damon. Forgiving Damon was one thing. But she'd over reacted. She wasn't completely innocent in all of this. And from the number of walls she'd seen in Damon, she knew she'd hurt him. If their positions had been flipped, Elena would have been hurt too. If she'd only been trying to help, and had been treated like that, she'd be furious. So she owed Damon more. She owed Damon far too much these days. She'd never be able to repay it.

She didn't deserve him.

It was the first time she'd thought it. But she didn't deserve Damon. She liked having him around, most of the time. And all she did was hurt him. The guilt was tearing her up. She wanted to change it. She wanted to make it up to Damon. But she didn't know how to. Dinner was a baby step in the right direction. At least, that was what Elena hoped it would be. As long as she didn't get out of hand. As long at Damon didn't try to kiss her. She was ready to do a great many things, but she wouldn't face Damon's misguided romance with her. Elena was going to have to try and make him see that she wasn't right for him. She'd hurt him so many times, and there was a good man at the heart of Damon. That Damon deserved so much more than her. She would prove that. She could do it. For Damon, she would do it.

Elena yanked out a chopping board and focused herself on slicing up an onion specifically to distract herself from her thought pattern. It was just before five anyway. If she sliced her hand open, Damon would be here soon to take her to the ER for stitches. Or, you know, drain all the blood from her body, but she'd been injured around Damon before and he'd never done that. Elena knew he was a lot more in control of that side of his nature than Stefan. She trusted Damon with everything she had.

The hands on the kitchen wall clock struck five, and Elena was yet to cause any disasters in the kitchen. She almost had the onion completely decimated, so she pulled the packet of bacon out of the fridge, along with a fresh chopping board and a clean knife. She then pulled a strip out and started dicing that up too. Despite her lacking cooking skills, hacking things to bits was actually quite soothing. She didn't get so far though.

Considering she was interrupted when the doorbell rang.

Elena let him in without a fuss. Damon wasn't sure what to expect from tonight. In all honesty, Damon had been reluctant to accept. Elena had been a little crazy as of late; it was hard to keep up with. One moment, she was hugging him for dear life, and Damon had actually felt like he had a chance with Elena. So much so that he'd tried to kiss her. Biggest mistake of the year so far. Then, of course, she'd slapped him around the face and driven him into the dirt. And now she had apologised and asked him around for the evening. Could anyone keep up with that? Could anyone blame him for considering saying no?

Because the truth of the matter was, this was killing him. Damon was still in love with Elena. He knew it better than anything else. He loved her. He'd told her, once, all those months ago. Stefan had deserved her then. Frankly, Damon still had a tiny thought that Stefan still deserved her now. But Stefan had screwed it up without any assistance on his part, and Elena had left him. Damon wasn't going to complain about it. He still wondered what she felt for his brother. Was she considering taking him back? That was another reason for him avoiding seeing her tonight. Every time he saw Elena, he couldn't help but wonder if she was about to go back to Stefan. Smash his heart all over again. He wouldn't be able to take that. Damon knew that if Stefan came back, he would leave. He wouldn't put himself through that again.

Of course, he'd tried to leave once already. Just over three months ago. He'd left Mystic Falls, determined to forget about Elena Gilbert and everything related to her. He didn't need her, and she clearly didn't need or want him. So what was the point in staying? But every day he'd spent away from her, trying to distract himself, he'd ended up thinking about her. What was she doing? How was she getting on? Did she think about him? Or had she forgotten him like he so desperately wanted to forget her? Because he had to face it, loving Elena Gilbert had brought him damn all. More pain that any one man could be expected to handle. That was about it. He was a voluntary glutton for punishment with every second he spent near her. But he'd tried to stay away. He'd failed.

Then he'd seen how depressed she was, how badly out of control her life was. And then he'd known he couldn't walk away again. Not until she was better. If Damon had found her with a new, happy life, he liked to think he would have walked away satisfied. But she was in pain, and like the idiotic sap he was, he couldn't leave her in pain. So he'd made it his goal to make her better. He wasn't getting a hell of a lot of a 'thank you' for his troubles either. So why bother? Why suffer through the pain and misery? Because she was Elena? That reason was slowly becoming less and less attractive, although Damon was still sadly unable to walk away. He wanted to distance himself from her. Because at least if he stood at a distance, surely the pain would ease. If he no longer let his emotions get wrangled up in Elena Gilbert, then he'd feel better, wouldn't he? It seemed like a sound theory. He was willing to try anything at this stage. And yet here he was. In Elena's flat. Helping her cook.

If that didn't make him a complete sucker, Damon didn't know what did.

It was standing there, cooking mince in a pan for Elena whilst she was busy dicing anything in sight, that Damon considered if this was worth it. Elena had made it crystal clear three nights ago that she didn't want him the same way that Damon wanted her. So what was the point? It would only torture him further if he stuck around. Maybe, once all this 'Katherine' business was over, he'd be better to just leave. Elena could live her life, and Damon could drown his sorrows in Vegas. There was no down side. He would leave now if it wasn't for this new threat. The pain was too much. It was destroying him. It was all he could do to hide it from Elena. He'd be damned if he let her know how much power she had over him. If he let her know exactly was she was doing to him.

"So, what are you trying to make, anyway?" Damon asked. He was done with the moping thoughts. He wasn't his little brother. He didn't brood. He didn't pretend to be something he wasn't, either.

"Spaghetti Bolognese," Elena told him, coming over and dumping bacon, onion, and liberal amounts of tomato puree into the pan Damon was working over.

"I'm going to ignore the irony of you trying to cook me Italian." Damon commented. Elena smiled slightly. "Bold move, for someone who can't cook." Elena shrugged.

"I wanted to try and make something nice. Besides, it's not my fault. My mom couldn't cook either."

"Are you blaming genes? Because that excuse really doesn't work in your case." Damon informed her. Elena smiled slightly.

"Upbringing, I suppose. I don't know; I never could cook. My Dad took great pains to try and teach me, but it didn't work so well." Elena admitted. Damon could just imagine a tiny Elena, sitting on the kitchen counter while her father tried to teach her how to cook.

They worked in companionable silence until the Bolognese sauce was more or less complete. It had to be left to cook on for a while, which gave them time to themselves. They talked for a while, until Damon eventually pulled some wine glasses from Elena's cupboard, before pouring out some of the red wine he'd brought over. They'd already opened the bottle to add some of the drink to the sauce. Elena eyed the glass suspiciously.

"You know I'm underage," Elena told him. Damon raised an eyebrow.

"And you used to have a glass of something every night. I'm not concerned unless you are," Damon said plainly. He trusted Elena; she might have been nearing alcoholic, but she wasn't out of control. And what was one glass of wine when foreign drinking ages were reaching new lows of sixteen? Elena seemed to accept his argument as she took a glass and sipped at it.

"So, what drove you to attempt cooking?" Damon asked. He was honestly curious. Elena had admitted she didn't cook if she could avoid it. Yet here she was, trying to make Italian food. He could only guess at the reasons. Elena just shrugged.

"I wanted to make an effort."

"Because?"

"Because I owe you, Damon Salvatore." Damon wasn't sure what he'd been expected. That certainly hadn't been on the list. He covered his surprise well. Just raised an eyebrow and a look at her over his glass. After so long, he was very good at covering up little inconveniences like emotion. He didn't even have to ask why, she just talked on anyway. She sighed first, mind you. "I shouldn't have been so harsh. So I want to make it up to you."

"You think pasta covers that?" Damon asked, his voice thick with implications. In truth, he was just obsessively curious. Elena swirled the wine in her glass, watching the liquid flow.

"No. But I think it's a start." There was a pause. Damon took a sip of the wine before choosing to speak.

"You don't owe me anything, Elena." He said it softly, but with just the right dangerous, harsh tone to catch her attention. Her gorgeous, warm brown eyes were caught on his in an instant. It was almost like he was compelling her, the way her gaze stayed completely fixed on his. She wasn't wearing her vervain necklace either. Maybe he could compel her. Not that he was attempting to.

"Sorry?" Elena asked, sounding a little breathless. Damon restrained the urge to smirk.

"Don't be nice to me out of some twisted idea of debt. You want me to come over, then ask me over. Don't do it as some kind of repayment. I make my own decisions. You don't need to pay me for them."

The last thing Damon wanted was Elena feeling like she owed him something. Debt made people do crazy things, just so they felt like they'd repaid someone. He didn't want Elena doing anything crazy. And he certainly didn't want her acting friendly out of debt. That was just crazy. And it would mess with his mind.

"Fine." Elena replied, sipping her own glass of wine. She eyed him for a moment, looking like she was thinking something over. "It doesn't change anything Damon." Damon smiled. That was the Elena he knew. The Elena he loved. Stubborn as hell.

"I figured you'd say that," he replied. Elena looked at him sideways, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Oh really?" she challenged.

"Yup. You don't listen to a word I say." How true. How many times had he tried to say 'Elena, I'm in love with you' without getting into the 'I love you' phrasing? And how many times had she missed the hint completely? (And she thought Stefan was clueless.)

"I do too." Elena countered. Damon smirked.

"Only when it suits you."

"You make me sound like a stubborn old mule."

"You are a stubborn old mule." Elena's lips twisted into a lopsided grin that clearly said she was scheming.

"Oh really?" She took a few paces forward, until she was so close to him that their bodies were almost touching. Her scent of lavender and jasmine radiated into his senses. Damon kept cool on the outside, just looking amused. In reality, all he wanted to do want kiss her. But he wouldn't do it. Elena had made her intentions quite clear. Damon wasn't a masochist, despite all appearances; he wouldn't put himself through that level of rejection again. It was worse because she was single. It wasn't that she was remaining faithful to Stefan - she just didn't want him.

"Yes, really," Damon replied to her challenge. He knew Elena was being feisty, dangerous. But Damon loved that; he loved her fire. He wanted to see where she was taking this. She put her glass down on the kitchen counter. Damon, having one of those feelings, did the same.

"If I'm a stubborn old mule, then you're practically decrepit. What are you now, two hundred?" she teased viciously.

"Hey, knock thirty years off that, thank you very much." Damon complained jokingly. "Besides, what are you now, twenty?"

"Nineteen!" Elena retorted far too quickly. Damon smiled.

"Touchy about age now, are we?" He mocked. "Don't worry, things don't start to go downhill until 21."

"You would know, would you?"

"I like to think so." The timer Elena had set for the pasta went off, and Damon's amusement deepened when she jumped at the sound.

"What is that?"

"That, my dear, means you need to get cooking again." Damon told her, pulling out the pasta. Elena groaned, before holding her hand out for the packet. He watched her put water in a pan, waiting for it to boil. She looked so stressed, and so attractive at the same time. But the night continued in its friendly innocence. They finished cooking, they ate, washed up, and Damon left just before seven. He didn't try anything. Because Elena had made her choice.

This was Damon making his.