Elena stayed under the spray of the shower until the water ran cold. when she stepped out, the bathroom mirror was misty with fog; she swiped her palm over its surface and decided that the shower had improved her appearance, if not her mood.
she used the cucumber-scented body lotion provided by the hotel and spent an unnecessarily long time blow-drying her hair until it rained in a stick-straight fall of chocolate down her back. she wished desperately for her makeup case, not motivated by vanity so much as shame: she really, really wanted some concealer for the mark on her collar bone. somehow she felt that if it was hidden from observant eyes - and Damon's were particularly keen - whatever else she'd done would be hidden, too.
naturally, in her haste to escape the other room she'd neglected to grab a change of clothes. annoyed with herself, she yanked Damon's shirt back on and wrapped a towel around her waist. it wasn't much of a fashion statement, but then, she was hardly flush with options.
she used her finger to brush her teeth, then flossed meticulously in what was an obvious stall tactic. finally, she propped her elbows on the cool porcelain counter and stared at her reflection.
whatever happened, happened, she told herself firmly. what's done is done. now you've just gotta deal with the consequences.
of course, dealing with consequences was more palatable when you knew what you'd done to deserve them.
"what's done is done," she repeated. gritting her teeth - and wishing pointlessly that she had a real outfit on, or maybe a suit of armor - Elena stepped purposefully toward the door.
as Elena was steeling herself for an uncomfortable confrontation, Damon was tipping the bellboy who'd just delivered a bag of groceries. the kid still seemed a bit thrown as he handed Damon the purchases, wondering dimly what had possessed him to break a hotel rule - you never, never encouraged guests to spend their money outside the cafe or gift shop, and you certainly didn't deliver contraband products yourself. but the fifty he pocketed soothed his nerves, and he gave a jaunty tip of the hat to Damon before the door was closed in his face.
the contents of the plastic bag would've mystified even the most creative-minded chef, especially if that chef knew that those ingredients would all end up in the same dish - or drink, rather. the salvatore hangover cure tasted absolutely foul - and was incredibly effective (if you could keep it down, anyway).
in the little kitchenette accompanying the suite Damon broke three eggs, added a healthy splash of pickle juice, a cocktail of pineapple and orange juice, crushed aspirin and alka seltzer mix. several other ingredients were tossed into the blender thoughtfully provided by the hotel, and unfortunately for Elena, she entered the room just as Damon flipped the switch.
the whir of the blender was magnified twenty times over by Elena's hangover, and her hands flew automatically to her ears.
"morning, sunshine," Damon said cheerfully, pitching his voice so that it would carry over the sound of the machine. he deliberately kept it on longer than necessary - she'd tortured him the night before, and it was only fair of him to pay her back - before finally shutting it off. when Elena warily approached the kitchenette counter he waved her away. if she knew exactly what he'd used to make the unappetizingly murky-colored drink, she wouldn't step within ten feet of it.
"nice outfit," he commented, pouring the mix into a glass and skirting the counter to press it into her hand.
she groaned in response, and in some corner of her mind seriously resented Damon's upbeat attitude. mostly, though, she was focused on the disgusting-looking liquid in her hand.
"am i supposed to drink this?"
"it won't fit into a suppository, if that's what you were hoping."
she sent him a withering glance. "what is it?"
"a gift. to put you out of your misery."
"poison?" she sounded hopeful enough to make him smile.
"just chug. you might want to hold your nose, too. i promise you, it'll help the hangover."
just the thought of willfully ingesting the drink made her stomach writhe in protest. but she trusted him - he'd had over a century and a half to come up with a hangover remedy, hadn't he? - and tried not to wonder if this was some sort of payback. closing her eyes and squeezing her nostrils shut, she lifted the glass to her lips and took a tentative sip.
before she could act on reflex and throw the "drink" in his face, Damon's palm was cupping the base of the glass and forcing the contents down her throat. she came up sputtering, eyes dark with anger.
she wanted to open her mouth and yell at him, but she didn't dare, just in case her stomach did reject whatever the hell he'd literally pushed on her. Damon's eyes were dancing merrily as he watched her breathe slow, even breaths through her nose. she counted to ten, then unclenched her teeth.
"you're an ass," she told him bitterly.
"thanks," he answered, smiling. he looked unfairly sexy this morning, especially when Elena was still feeling so ragged around the edges. his hair was shades darker than usual, still damp from his shower, his cheeks had the customary hint of color that so perfectly complimented those sparkling eyes, and damn it, he smelled really, really good. of mint and musk and man.
bastard, she thought bitterly.
"i see you helped yourself to one of my shirts," he commented, enjoying himself. irritating Elena was one of life's little pleasures.
"you weren't using it," she said - sounding decidedly irritable, which only broadened Damon's smile. turning her back on him, she stalked across the room to rifle through her duffle bag, grabbing jeans and a purple spaghetti strap tank and rummaging around for a change of underwear.
Damon, thoughtful as ever, said her name. she glanced in his direction to see her discarded panties dangling from his finger.
"looking for these?"
the drink threatened to come up all over again as she silently brushed past him - snatching the underwear and tossing it into her duffel - and, ignoring her headache, slammed the bathroom door shut.
so far, the morning had been going smoothly. remarkably, the suspicious concoction Damon pressed on her left Elena feeling almost chipper, until she remembered the multitude of things she didn't remember.
they were in the car again with Damon behind the wheel, Elena's eyes shaded by wayfarer-style ray bans, Damon's hidden behind reflective silver aviators. even though she couldn't see those blazing blue eyes, she felt them skim her face more than a few times.
they'd been on the road for going on three hours when Elena caved in to her mounting nerves. Damon had kept up a fairly constant stream of casual conversation interrupted occasionally by raising the volume of the radio when an appealing song came on.
but it was barely twenty minutes into the audio book Damon had suggested they listen to - which instantly made Elena wary, because hello, Damon, audio books? - that she snapped.
"hey!" Damon protested, "that was just getting good!"
she wouldn't deny it - she'd heard of the book but had still been blindsided by the fact that it was borderline pornography, which explained precisely why Damon chose it. and she wasn't immune to the charismatic christian grey.
more worrisome, though, was the fact that she was far from immune to the even more charismatic Damon salvatore.
with that in mind, Elena decided it was time to face the music. if she absolutely had to, anyway.
she caught herself a split second before she asked straight out, "what happened last night?" that was dangerous territory. Damon loved screwing around; it was a passion he'd grown highly adept at. so letting him know just how little she remembered from the night before would be an exercise in torture. god only knew what wild stories he'd conjure.
"so... sorry i woke you last night," she said, treading very carefully.
"i wasn't sleeping," he answered easily.
"ah."
Damon leaned forward to flip the radio on again, prompting Elena to let out a startled "no!"
he arched a brow. "what's with you?"
"just - don't you think it's a little, um... trashy?"
"your point being?"
"Damon."
"Elena."
"I'm serious. it's about some young impressionable girl getting walked all over by a know-it-all older man with zero sexual hang-ups whatsoever!"
"you say that like it's a bad thing."
"he's sick!" okay, she didn't actually know that. she hadn't read the book and was damn well intrigued by what they'd heard so far, but she was still dodging the whole point of her fishing expedition. she couldn't be too obvious; he was clever, and she couldn't act like her memory loss was a big thing. or a thing at all.
casual. stay casual.
Damon, of course, was clever. and Damon did, of course, love screwing around. contrary to what Elena believed, he'd figured out hours ago that she had no idea what transpired the night before. if she had, she would've felt compelled to discuss it, address it at the very least - and she'd probably have a difficult time making eye contact. in fact, he'd been waiting patiently to see just when she'd break. Elena was by nature confrontational - she didn't run from problems, didn't shy away from touchy subjects. the fact that she was doing just that now was endlessly amusing to him. he'd purchased the 50 shades of grey when he spotted it in the well-stocked hotel gift shop with the express purpose of putting her further on edge.
it was his turn to have some fun. god knew he deserved it after denying himself what certainly would've been a lot of fun the night before.
"since when are you such a prude?" Damon asked, drumming his fingers on the wheel and looking over at her with his patented bone-melting gaze.
"since - " she stuttered. "I'm not a prude!"
he laughed wickedly. "you don't have to tell me." his tone was just suggestive enough to have Elena wriggling uncomfortably in the passenger seat.
she tried, unsuccessfully, to sound like she was perfectly at ease. like she wasn't dying to know the answer to her next question. "and what's that supposed to mean?"
Damon tucked his tongue in his cheek thoughtfully, just to piss her off. "you know exactly what it means," he said, shooting her a dastardly wink.
her hands clenched into fists as she tried to stay calm. "obviously i don't."
he shrugged. "okay."
"Damon!"
"Elena?"
"what the hell - " happened last night? no, not yet. she didn't have to spell it out yet. "are you talking about?" she cast about desperately for an alternate meaning to his words. "did - did someone tell you i was a prude?"
Damon's mood darkened briefly, fully aware that "someone" translated to "stefan." but he shook off the moment of irritation in favor of drawing out her irritation.
"i didn't call you a prude. jeez, Elena, lighten up."
she tried, really tried, to take his advice.
"no one had to tell me," he went on, the grin sliding over his face again. "i have eyes, don't i? and ears, and hands." he lingered over the last word and something quivered low in her belly. "but I'm not telling you anything you don't know."
oh, god.
at her stunned silence, Damon let out an indignant snort. "oh my god. are you telling me you don't remember? jesus, Elena, you really know how to hit a guy where it hurts. i mean, the things i did - you did... we did. and you don't remember any of it? i've lived for a hundred and seventy years and you still managed to surprise me. i had no idea you were so... bendy."
Elena, who had been sipping from her bottled water, choked. tried to compose herself. "yeah, well." she took another sip, suddenly feeling very hot. "when I'm drunk my standards drop really, really low. obviously."
"then remind me to keep you that way. i mean, the things you said, and did? the way you said them, did them? absolutely shameless. i didn't know you had it in you."
"neither did i," she shot back, making him laugh even as she wanted to scream. he was fucking with her. he had to be fucking with her. the girl he was describing just wasn't her. sure, she had her sexual side, but she wasn't some kind of wildcat between the sheets.
except when it came to Damon, every rule, everything she thought she knew, went right out the window.
"oh, you didn't seem to have any complaints size-wise last night."
"like i said," she muttered, still trying to sort out her tangled thoughts, "low standards. i was shit-faced. i can't be held responsible for my actions."
and that's when she knew; that's when she laughed.
"Damon, you are such a dick. nothing happened last night."
"if by nothing you mean lots of things then yeah. absolutely."
"no, i mean nothing. because i was drunk, and you knew it."
"point being?"
"there's no way you'd have taken advantage of me when you knew i was wasted. not your style."
"actually, that's exactly my style," he told her, sounding decidedly annoyed.
"oh, that's right. i forgot you were the bad guy, who preys on vulnerable girls with zero inhibitions. i probably could've jumped you and you still wouldn't have let anything happen."
at his lengthy silence, Elena lifted a questioning brow. his eyes remained firmly focused on the road, and she saw a muscle in his jaw tic.
"oh my god," she said suddenly. "i did didn't i?"
no answer.
"i threw myself at you. that's why i woke up naked, that's why my underwear was hanging from a lamp. i threw myself at you!"
"i don't know why you sound so goddamn proud of yourself."
"I'm not, proud of myself..." exactly. no, not proud, but maybe a little shocked, and not entirely unpleasantly, by her own behavior.
yep. where Damon was concerned, the rules governing Elena gilbert flew right out the window - right out of the world.
"actually, i guess I'm proud of you."
"excuse me?"
"i don't know why i didn't figure it out myself. you've been stringing me along this whole time when in reality, you saved me from a nightmare and then saved me from myself. or from you. I'm not sure which."
"believe me, I'm rethinking that decision."
Elena reached out and gave Damon's hand a comforting squeeze. "you really are a stand up guy, Damon. thanks for not making me feel like an idiot."
"oh, you were an idiot. you were a supreme idiot. you redefined the word."
"good thing i waited until i was alone with you, then. someone else might have exploited it."
"yeah, well, i should've."
she was quiet for a moment, a smile playing on her mouth. "I'm impressed, Damon. and you know... maybe even a little offended."
Damon's jaw dropped. "are you kidding me?"
"well how could a guy resist a drunk naked girl? what does that say about me?"
"that you've got amazing taste."
she grinned. "every now and then i get lucky."
"that makes one of us," he said, scowling.
"it's a shame, you know." she was thoroughly enjoying herself now. "i bet we could've had a great time."
"can you just stop talking?"
"because you were right about one thing."
"seriously. stop talking."
enjoying herself more than she had in weeks, Elena shot Damon a devilish smile.
"i am bendy."
with something like a growl, Damon flipped on the radio and spun the dial so the volume blasted.
but this time, he sure as hell didn't play the audiobook. no - sexual stimulation was the last thing he needed.