Authors note . . . .
As always – it all belongs to Warner Brothers, the CW, and probably a few other people I don't know about. The only thing I can lay claim to are the characters Darren and Alexandra.
As always, I'd love to know what you think – like it, hate it, think I should flush it . . .
Elena caught a glimpse of Damon in the mirror. It was an odd angle, the view was spectacular, just the same. Broad shoulders, muscular chest, washboard abs. The sheet draped low on his hips. His inky black hair was a messy, ends sticking up all over, like someone had their hands in it, had been gripping tightly . . .
He had a book in his lap, and he turned the page. She loved watching him when he read, she loved it that he enjoyed reading. He had hundreds of books, real books. A mix of classics, poetry, fiction, and nonfiction – his collection was as eclectic and surprising as he was.
She wondered what he was reading, until he looked up at her.
"Your anthropology teacher is creepy," Damon said, "and a perv. Half the pictures in this book are of topless women."
Hundreds of books, and he was reading her textbook from her anthropology class?
Elena laughed, put down her toothbrush, and came out of the bathroom, "Since when do you have a problem with topless women?"
"He's in half the pictures, and he's old enough to be their grandfather," Damon said, "what is he – 80?"
She put her hand on her hip, "What are you – 195?" she asked.
He smirked, "I've been 24 for a very long time, and I look like it."
With that, he tossed her text took aside, "How many times are you going to go to college?"
She climbed onto the bed, straddled his lap over the sheets, "As many times as I feel like it – it's the prerogative of being 51 and looking like I'm 21."
He slid his hands gently around her neck, pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, "smoking hot 21 year old . . ."
She kissed him back, the thrill racing through her, but she forced herself to pull back. If they kept this up, she'd miss class – again.
"What are you doing today?" she asked, reaching for her text book.
"Fulfilling some of my many duties as your husband," he said, "going to the market . . . want anything special?"
She smiled, slid her fingers into his hair, "what do I have to do to get you to make ravioli with that fresh mozzarella?"
He grasped her hand, brushed his lips across her knuckles, "I live to keep my wife happy."
She smiled, shoved her book in the messenger bag, and paused by the door of their bedroom, "Keep an eye on our houseguests . . . I'm worried about Alex, and Darren."
"The city isn't going to run out of bad guys," Damon said, "Trust me – they're like gremlins – mix them with water, they multiple exponentially."
"It's not the population of bad guys I worry about, she'd drinking herself numb," Elena said.
Damon threw off the sheets, strode across their bedroom naked, taking his time. He did it on purpose, because he knew she was watching. He turned to face her in all his naked glory and ran a hand through his hair, all his movements calculated.
"It's a process," Damon said, "Needless to say, I'm going to the liquor store – want anything special? I know they'll need tequila and rum, I'll need bourbon . . . "
Elena looked him over, shook her head, and then closed the door behind her.
Damon smirked, and walked into the bathroom and started the shower.
Alexandra showered, washed and dried her hair, pulled it up into a messy knot on the top of her head, and went on a cleaning spree, anything to keep herself busy. Damon and Elena kept their house clean and organized, but she figured she could wipe down counters, dust anything that looked like it needed to be dusted . . .dust some things that didn't need to be dusted . . .
Darren was sitting back, sipping a cup of coffee, sort of reading the newspaper on his tablet, occasionally sipping on a cup of coffee. Mostly he was pretending to read while he watched his girlfriend run out in short shorts.
She had on snug fitting denim shorts, and a snug fitting tank top, hugging her curves just the right way.
They both heard someone coming down the stairs.
"Coffee Damon?" Alexandra called out. She knew it had to be him, Elena had sailed out a little while ago for class.
"Uh yeah, sure," Damon said, fluffing up his damp hair. He watched Alexandra race through the kitchen, pour a cup of coffee, and a minute later it was in his hand. In a flash she was back in the living room, dusting some intricate figurine.
Damon dropped down on the sofa next to his friend, looked from Darren, to Alexandra, then back to Darren.
"You're not really reading," Damon said quietly, smirking.
Darren shook his head, and grinned "Nope! Welcome to my life."
Damon shrugged, sipped the coffee, and frowned, "Uh . . . make coffee much Alex?"
She whipped around, "What? You don't like strong coffee?"
"Seattle," Darren said, looking over at Damon, "Land of espresso on every corner . . . suck it up."
Damon nodded, and got up, headed for the bar, and picked up the bottle of Kahlua.
Alexandra shook her head, "Wus."
She went back to dusting.
"You know Alex . . . think I did that yesterday – and I think you did too," Damon said, "Feeling a little edgy?"
As he asked, he reached for the bottle of spiced rum, about to pour a couple fingers into a glass, and then he realized it was a new bottle, which meant she had gone through the previous bottle – already – yesterday.
He shrugged, and filled tumbler half way, and held out the glass.
She took it, sipped half it down, "I'm managing."
Damon glanced over at Darren, who turned off his tablet, "We thought we'd try a nice calm stroll through central part today – no snatch, eat and erase – just walking – enjoying the park."
"Among the appetizers," Damon commented, smirking, "I could go for a little for mixed grill today."
Darren laughed, Alexandra rolled her eyes.
"I thought you were supposed to be the expert in living as a vampire!" Alexandra said, frowning, and she dropped down into a chair, "Every time I turn around – we're feeding!"
Damon raised an eyebrow, and gestured to himself, "Yep - Vampire."
Darren sipped the coffee, and schooled his features, it was strong. Alexandra had always liked her coffee strong, but this was really strong.
"I have to go to the market anyhow, my wife wants fresh ravioli," Damon said, "You want the secret to living well as a vampire –keep your vampire wife happy."
With that, he stood up, headed back up the stairs, took another sip of the very strong coffee. It wasn't bad when he cut it with Kahlua.
He got back up to his room, picked up his cell phone, saw a text message from Elena.
'Watch out for the coffee – be nice – love you'
Three days later . . .
It was date night. Not that they ever needed any help in the romance department, it was more of an excuse to dress up, go out – enjoy the human aspect of their lives.
And having a normal human aspect of his life – beyond trying not to get caught – was something that even after all his years with her; it was still a novel experience that he relished.
She'd dressed in an off the shoulder dark blue cocktail dress and heals, curled her hair and pinned it up in some fancy ornate arrangement, just a little bit of eye shadow and mascara and lip gloss, she didn't need anything else. Damon wore a suit – black with a dark charcoal, no tie tonight. It had been dinner and dancing at a jazz place that they'd been to a few times – a human dinner. Elena thought it was rude to feed off the musicians they loved to listen to so much.
"I feel guilty that we went out without them," Elena said, "They have a key right? To get back in?"
"Yes," Damon said, "Not that Darren needs a key – He made a living as cat burglar for a while."
Elena frowned, "Seriously? He seems like a nice guy."
Damon laughed, "He is now."
The lock turned, they stepped in and Damon paused to listen . . .nope . . . no one was home.
Not that it would stop him.
He scooped Elena up, and in a flash, they were in their bedroom, on the bed, and he was crawling over her
She laughed, "Did you miss me today?"
He brushed his lips across hers – gently – even though what he wanted to do was not gentle at all.
"I always miss you when you're gone," He murmured.
He brushed his lips across hers again, and then moved to her cheek, her neck, gentle open mouthed kissed, meant to tease and tantalize.
It worked. She slid her fingers into his hair, arched her body up towards his as his lips blazed a trail down her neck, to her shoulder, along her collar bone.
"Damon . . ." she breathed, soft, husky.
"We've got to get you out of this dress," he said, his own voice had taken on that husky impassioned sound.
He sat back, pulled her up with him.
She smiled at him, enjoying the look of intense passion on his face. It still thrilled her that he wanted her that much, that she could do this to him.
She reached up, started pulling pins from her hair and then she let it go so it fell in a cascade around her shoulders, and she shook her head just a little, shaking it out.
She heard his breath catch – which was why she did it. She smiled smugly, and saw that signatures smirk creep into place across his lips.
He enjoyed these seductive moments as much as she did.
"I could use some help with this zipper," she said, turning around, and presenting her back.
Damon wasn't about to say no. He slowly drew the zipper down, loosening it, and then drew it up and off of her, leaving her clad only in a pair of lacy matching dark blue lacy panties and a bra, garter belt and stockings.
He felt that familiar flush, felt his fangs start to come out, his mouth go dry. Those garters and stockings just might have to stay on . . .
She looked over her shoulder, and raised an eyebrow, "why are you still dressed?"
In a moment, he was off the bed, yanking off his suit, tossing it all over on the chair in the corner, and then he leapt back on the bed, pouncing on her.
Elena went from looking over her shoulder at him, enjoying the view, to finding herself on her back, pinned down. His mouth was on hers, kissing her hungrily. Tease and taunt time was over.
His hands were everywhere – and so were hers. He knew just where to touch her, just how – and she was aching with need, panting, wet, aroused and ready in moments. He'd all but ripped off her bra and panties, and then they were together, connected. He was inside her, she was tightly wrapped around him, and they both moaned, half relief, half desire. Their connection was so much more than intense phenomenal sex, love and romance. There was some raw magic about it.
"I love you," she whispered, her mouth seeking out his.
He kissed her, and started to move, knowing just the right way, just how.
"I'll never get tired of hearing that," he gasped out, "oh god . . . Elena . . ."
She arched her back, met his thrusts, and she bit into his neck, her fangs sinking in deep.
Damon groaned, the intense pleasure almost too much. When she drank from him – it was like he could feel what she as feeling, and what he was feeling all at the same time. It was intense, overwhelming.
For a moment, his mind went back to the first time she'd drank from him, and she hadn't known what that meant, what it was for him.
He thrust harder and faster, on and on, until he felt it, felt her release. It echoed through both of them, taking him right over that edge with her.
Their bodies went slack, and he turned to his side, not breaking the skin to skin contact.
"I love you Elena Salvatore," he murmured into her hair.
Elena enjoyed taking the college classes. She actually had a literature degree, but for the last ten years, anthropology and archeology fascinated her. Their next move, their next new life, was going to have to be somewhere exotic, with ancient ruins, someplace where she could get in on a dig, see little bits of history unearthed by her own hands.
Damon would go anywhere she wanted to go of course. He indulged her with anything and everything she wanted, he loved her that much. She was a lucky woman, and she knew it. She loved him desperately too.
Then, as if on cue – there he was. Snug jeans, a t-shirt and his leather jacket, his hair looking just as messy as it did when she left him in bed this morning. The rush of pleasure at seeing him there was short lived. He didn't have that smug, come hither look on his face. His expression was calm – too calm, and she instinctively knew something was wrong.
"Damn, your husband is just too damn hot for his own good," Lisa, one of her classmates said, "How do you every get any studying done?"
Elena smiled smugly, "He's an amazing chef too."
"Does he have a brother?" Lisa asked, "He's too good to be true."
Elena schooled her own features, "He does have a brother, but . . . he's taken – and Damon and Stephan polar opposites. Nice guy though."
They reached Damon, and he brushed a kiss across her cheek, and took her messenger bag off her shoulder, "I thought I'd meet you for lunch."
Elena saw the newspaper held tight in his hand, folded in half.
"Sure," she said, "Uh . . .I'll see you tomorrow Lisa."
Damon watched the young woman go. Elena watched her walk away too, waiting until she was far enough away.
"What's wrong?" Elena asked.
Damon handed her the news paper.
She unfolded it, scanned the headlines. On the bottom half, left hand side, she saw it. An article about how several sex offenders had been killed, some were just missing. The police suspected a vigilante, but they had no leads.
"Seven? We only hunted down four," She said quietly.
"You and I were only with her for four of them," Damon said, "Some of these she may have done on her own."
Elena groaned, "Some of these who are missing – might just have taken off . . . sex offenders take off all the time."
Damon nodded, "Believe me, I have no problem with her taking out a couple hundred assholes, she can go all serial killer on them as far as I'm concerned, I did it, but 100 years ago it was easier to cover our tracks."
Elena sighed, folding the newspaper, "She was totally in control with the last one."
Damon glanced around again, then looked back at Elena, "In control or not, our newbie needs to crack a bag instead of a throat for a while."
Elena nodded agreeing, "On that note – you mentioned lunch – what did you have in mind?"
He managed a little bit of a sarcastic smile, "Not sex offender, that's for sure."
Darren sat back and just watched her. They'd been apartment hunting, and they found two they liked, and decided on one, and put a deposit down. A few days for it to be cleaned, and they could move in. To celebrate, they'd stopped at the seafood market and the farmers market on the way home, and now Alex was cooking.
She was almost back to the girl he used to know. He knew she'd never be that Alex again. Becoming a vampire changed a person – intensified the traits that made you who you were. What a person did with that, was up to them. He knew she'd be ok, he knew they'd be ok together. They'd have to work at their new life together, but he was fine with that, and so was she.
The other night, when Damon and Elena went out for their date night, Darren and Alexandra had gone out too. They'd walked the park, had hot dogs (instead of the street cart vendor), and just walked and walked for hours. When the sun fell, and parts of the park cleared – they just kept going, not worrying about what part of the park they were in. After all, they didn't have to worry now. Alex was just as damn near invincible as he was. She had the same intense hyper sensitive senses as he had now.
They'd ran – she loved that she could run – and run fast – and it was easy. They'd jumped, leaping high into the air, landing on top of some bridge. She'd been like a kid in an amusement park.
It had been the first day in weeks she'd really laughed, really been care free. They'd stayed out until almost dawn, finally ending up at some diner, having one of those heart attack on a plate breakfasts with strong coffee. That had been like life in Seattle for them – the 4 am breakfast after being out all night on weekends.
"You want some help with any of this?" Darren asked.
She laughed, looked over at him, "Seriously?"
"Ok, so cooking has never been my thing," he said, laughing, "I still gotta offer.
She laughed, picking up the crab, and tossing it into the big stock pot of boiling water. She flinched, hearing the hiss so differently now, and she glanced over at him, "Is that what it always sounds like?"
He nodded, sipping off his water bottle, "Yep – loud little things, aren't they?"
She grabbed the other crab, tossed it into the pot, and grabbing a pair of tongs, pushed them around a little bit, making sure they were both submerged in the boiling water.
From there, she turned to the vegetables.
She was making crab soufflé. It was a delicate process, he'd seen her do it dozen times, and she enjoyed cooking. So he'd pick up whatever she wanted to cook or experiment with, and he'd sit back, and watch her enjoy the whole process.
"I've got kitchen envy," Alexandra said, looking around, "You can totally tell this is the domain of someone who loves to cook."
"If we ever end up in New Orleans – at the same time as Damon and Elena – we'll ask him to make crawdads – amazing."
Alexandra smiled, glancing up from the scallions she was chopping up now, "How come you went so long without visiting?"
Darren frowned, "I don't know actually. Time just feels different when you're a vampire. If you think it can get away from you a human – imagine what it's like when you don't have a time limit on your life."
She scrapped the scallions off the cutting board, into a bowel, washed the board, and reached for the peppers.
She cleaned and sliced down a jalapeño, tossed it towards Darren. He snatched it out of mid-air, popped it into his mouth.
"I thought only dogs did stuff like that," Damon said, walking into the kitchen.
Darren looked over his shoulder, "She has me well trained – want a Jalapeno? There were some fresh ones at the market."
Damon shook his head, "I'll pass . . . so . . . . what are you making Alex? Is that . . . crab . . . that I smell?"
Alexandra nodded, "Yep – crap soufflé."
Damon nodded a little. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of anyone else cooking in his kitchen.
"Amazing, trust me," Darren said, "Her talents are wasted in a microbiology lab."
Alexandra shook her head, "Cooking is a hobby – I can't do anything like that fresh ravioli you made the other night – that was devine."
"My mother liked to cook," Damon said, watching her wield one of his chef knives.
Elena walked in, taking a deep breath, "Oh . . . is that crab?"
Alexandra nodded, "Crab soufflé – it's good, trust me."
She looked from Elena to Damon, then to Darren for a moment, then back to Elena and Damon.
"What's going on – the two you look edgy," Alexandra said.
Darren turned on the bar stool, "What's going on?"
Damon sighed, "there's an article in paper – 7 scumbags missing . . . I can't believe I'm saying this . . . you gotta lay off eating scumbags for a while Alex."
She frowned, "I've only eaten five."
"We had one the other night," Darren said, "Right before he was going to do some poor drunk girl – but . . . that body is buried – deep – and I didn't take him apart."
Damon handed Darren the paper, and he scanned the article, "Yeah – this fifth one in here, not ours."
Damon nodded, sighing, "Then we have a copy-cat."
"Another vampire in the city maybe?" Darren asked.
Elena shrugged, "Half a dozen at any time usually . . . and none that we socialize with at the moment."
Damon sighed, "This isn't Stephan's work – he wouldn't be so tidy . . . and he'd call if he was here."
Elena sighed, "Would he?"
Damon rubbed a hand over his face, "Yeah, he's pissed, but not that pissed -and you remember what he was like – this isn't his work."
"I'll stick to bags," Alexandra said, "I mean . . . the whole point was for me to learn some control – and I can go through a crowd of people and not lose it now."
"Even the other night – she was able to stop – we did share," Damon said, looking back and forth between them, "Do we know for sure all the bodies were killed the same way?"
"I can find out," Damon said, "For now – just stick to the bagged stuff."
Alexandra nodded, "Yes, of course, no more scumbags for now. The last thing I want to do is attract the attention of a hunter like Seth did."
Damon took a deep breath, "All right then. What's in this soufflé? – I need to know so I can pick a wine."
Darren sat back smiled, and listened while Alexandra and Damon started talking about white wines. He looked over at Elena. She slid onto the bar stool, and leaned over, picked up a carrot.
"Does she cook like this often?"
Darren nodded, "Couple times a week, I'd be fat if I wasn't a vampire. I can't cook to save my life. I used to live on hamburgers, tacos and beer."
Elena laughed, "I can make chili – if I have a recipe."
Damon looked over, "Not in this kitchen."
Elena rolled her eyes, "Not that I ever need to cook."
"I don't cook, as a rule," Darren said, "Not my thing. If I cook, people might die of food poisoning."
Elena laughed, "I'm not quite that bad."
"I am. Growing up - human – the only time I saw the inside of a kitchen was when I was sneaking my father's tequila."
"When and where did you actually grow up?" Elena asked.
Darren smiled, "in a little town that doesn't exist anymore – in the state of Chihuahua, Mexico. I was turned 80 years ago – I'm 105. My family were all farm laborer's – on other people's farm's. If someone committed a crime, stole something, or kicked someone's ass, the police came looking at us first usually, and usually they were right. The day it happened – I had my weeks' pay, and I picked up a woman in a Cantina, and she compelled me, bit me, turned me. She stuck around for a few days, then took off. We knew we had a vampire in town, we knew one was turning men – but no one ever guessed it was a woman. They town got organized, started hunting. I split town too – because I knew they'd figure out what happened to me fast."
Elena nodded, and leaned in, "You know – I hope you're going to stay in New York for a while – He's really enjoying having an old friend around – a real friend – that's hard to come by in our world."
Darren nodded, "We're going to be here for a while. Alex will want to go back to school, and I think having some tie to her normal, old, regular kind of life will help. We could have stayed in Seattle, but there are two hunter's there – actively looking. We couldn't risk that."
Elena grimaced, "Yeah, hunters . . . I heard you and Damon talking about your friend Seth the other night."
Darren sighed, "Michael never should have turned him. Seth was an emotional out of control wreck when he was human . . . but Michael loved him. When that hunter got him – everyone got nervous. The two other vampires in town would have turned on Alex in a heartbeat."
"Nice friends," Elena commented.
"They weren't friends," Darren said, "Just people I knew – which is why we left. We put down a deposit on an apartment today by the way."
"Really? That's fast . . . you could have stayed longer you know," Elena said, "Trust me, there's plenty of room here."
Darren laughed, "So maybe you enjoy having house guests for an extended visit –but Damon couldn't have changed that much."
Elena smiled, thinking back to the boarding house in Mystic Falls, "His family home in Mystic falls – at one point it was Damon and I, my brother, Stephan, and Katherine, and sometimes one or two other people."
"Isn't it a boarding house?" Darren asked, "I've never actually seen it."
"Huge," Elena said, "too damn big – because some of those house guests were there way to long."
"Katherine . . . I heard about her . . . that had to be a hell of a shock – Damon told me the other day . . . ."
As always, I'd love to hear what you think. Love it, hate it, want more, think I should flush it, heck, even suggestions. I'm flexible. Not as flexible as some of our favorite characters, but hey . . . .