Note: I know I'm not updating as often as before, but sadly I don't have a pc anymore, so I had to borrow it to write this chapter (and the provious on), so please be patient. Thank you ;) The song I used in this chapter is "Other side of the world" by KT Tunstall.
#
In between all the mess and the denying and the waiting for the next funeral, he missed Alaric. The notion is clearer now that he greets him with a slap on the back, as they are shoulder to shoulder.
The contact is slightly longer than usual and Alaric eyes him suspiciously.
"What?" he asks "Are you getting in touch with your feminine side or something?"
Damon points his fingers towards him like he's seriously warning him for his own good, "As long as you're not the one to get in touch with it, man!
Alaric laughs and sits down on the stool, raising one hand to call the bartender's attention.
"My treat," he says as the boy walks towards their side.
"Of course," Damon replies, "I'm already offering my delightful company to even pay."
His friend ignores him as he orders their drinks, and Damon knows he needs to do everything in his power to keep Alaric from dying. The idea is so clear and loud that during the first minutes of their night he's striving to pay attention to whatever he's saying.
"Are you listening?" he asks, turning around to see if there's some attractive woman who has been distracting Damon, but finds none, "Where is she?
"What are you talking about?"
"The girl," he says, "It's always a girl."
"Oh, there's no other girl but you," Damon jokes receiving a grim look.
"C'mon, keep me entertained. Spill," he says taking a sip of his drink, "Something happened that I should know?"
Damon is tempted to laugh but he settles for an ironic grin. He wants to tell him to pack his things and drive away to some hermitage or lonely dirty hole and just hide but this is Alaric – plus one – and he's not one to hide.
Furthermore, what if he fucks the balance more than he already did? What if he spills the guts and he ends up doing something even worse? What will his dark passenger do if he tells him everything that did not happen, yet?
He needs to save his ass without him knowing, so he simply says, "I had a little encounter with our resident witch last night."
"What kind of encounter?" he asks, wary and clearly worried.
"Not the X-rated kind, sadly," he reassures him.
"Like there's any chance," he answers with a little relief.
"You didn't look so sure about that a few moments ago," Damon reminds him, trying to cover his annoyance.
Alaric is his friend, he's supposed to back him up here. He's supposed to be more encouraging along the lines of yes man, you can do it. Go for it. I'll take care of the corpse of all her other suitors.
"I temporarily forgot about your vivacious dynamic."
"Whatever," Damon answers and takes a gulp of his drink.
Alaric arches an eyebrow and looks at his friend profile with a perplexed expression on his face.
"Are you… pouting?" He asks, incredulous.
"What?" Damon burst, outraged, "I don't pout. I only get affected by a noble indignation. "
"Man, you were totally pouting," he insists, half amused, half worried.
"Do you want to die?" Damon asks, "Again?" he adds.
"Is this just an alpha-vampire-thing or, you know…?" he questions, wide eyed like the fire alarm went off in his head.
"Rick, have you been reading Harmony? Does it really classify as literature?"
"Don't try and change the subject. You can't mess with Bonnie," he says like he's warning him.
"I always mess with Bonnie. It's kind of in the job description."
"You know what I mean."
"No, I don't," he says, "Let's admit you're right, okay? Let's hypothesize that Judgy caught my eye…would that be so bad?"
"This is a rhetoric question, right?"
"What?" Damon really can't believe he's serious, "You were never so adamant when it was Elena, what's the difference?"
"The difference is that Elena is not-"he stops talking like he just swallowed the other half of his sentence.
"What? What is Elena not?" Damon asks genuinely confused.
"Real," he says, stark, "She's not real. She's like a fantasy, beautiful… as long as she stays unreachable. Which is perfect because she's not going to leave Stefan, and you can hold on to your love for as long as it makes you feel good about yourself."
"You can really aim high, can't you?" he asks. Why did they never have this discussion before? Maybe things could make sense long before the disaster his un-life has been lately. Or maybe not.
"Sorry, man."
"Yeah," he knows he's sorry, and it's not like he can blame anyone but himself for this mess.
Damon's blue eyes fix themselves on Alaric and he sounds deadly set when he asks.
"Don't you think I deserve something real now?"
#
He's just closed his house's door when he answers the phone without looking at the screen.
"What?"
"Damon," her voice has the effect to make him feel temporarily disorientated.
"Hello, beautiful," he says. He thinks that Elena can make him still feel a bit melancholic, with her fragility and prettiness and her habit to chew on her bottom lip.
She's back at being human, at being as far from him as she's always been and it doesn't hurt.
When she asks him to accompany her to Denver to bring her brother back he doesn't know what to do. Part of him is used to being her protector, to run to her every time she snaps her fingers, but he does see the pattern now. He does see the games she unconsciously plays with his feelings, this massacre he subjects his brother and himself to and he's tired of it.
"Listen, maybe you should ask Stefan…"
As soon as he says his name he realized that his brother is standing in front of him, and against any better judgment he shakes his head to tell him to accept her request.
"Or I can say yes right away and put you out of your misery. I know you're addicted to me, can't really blame you," he says, grimacing to his brother.
Once she hangs up he bursts, "Masochistic much?"
"We need to change things as little as possible," Stefan reminds him, turning his back on him.
"You want me to tell you what happens once we are all alone in a hotel room miles away from your broody forehead?" he asks, regretting his words as soon as they have left his mouth.
Stefan does not react but he sees his back go tense as he pours himself a drink.
"No thank you."
"Good, because it's not really entertaining. She sleeps like a rock. It was very stalker-ish on my side and quite boring in general."
He doesn't know if Stefan can tell it's a lie but he doesn't wait to find out.
"I think I like Rick better when he's alive," he says when his brother turns around to face him.
Stefan just nods. There's really not much to say, because he knows that they need to do this. Try and save them all, and hope they really can. That it's not a battle against windmills.
#
During their road trip he finds himself stealing glances her way. Her look and the whole situation are so familiar that he can't wrap his head around it. Elena looks quite self-conscious because of his inspections and she smiles and blushes, tucking a stray of hair behind her ear.
She's the main lead of this romantic movie and doesn't see the difference in him. He himself starts to doubt the difference in him. Damon is tempted to swear.
In the motel room he leaves the bathroom shirtless, with only a bottle of scotch in his hand. The perpetual déjà vu isunnerving. He slips on a shirt and she opens her eyes and looks at him under heavy lashes. This time their eyes meet soon and she can't pretend to be asleep and yet her innocent look sends such a clear message. She's so good at leading him on, so good at feeding him with false hope and crumbles of something he always mistook for love. She made him high over unspoken promises and illusions, letting him spiral down to self-destruction with a few, whispered, oh-so-sorry words.
Every time she turns out to be a bad trip, and now she's here, trying to make him swallow the hook all over again. And it would be so easy to just give in to her, he thinks.
Yes, so, so very easy. Stefan would never use it against him.
He was the one to send him on this trip, after all. In more than one way. He had it coming, hadn't he?
Damon lies down next to her, and the bed feels smaller than the first time around.
She looks at him, lovingly, and her lips part to say the words he already knows and he stops her.
"Is there even a point in this?" he asks.
Her expression sobers, as she asks "What do you mean?"
"I think you know," he says, "We're here, in this bed, in the dark… sharing a moment," he sounds bitter, mocking, "And right now," he says reaching out with his fingertips to her lips "We can share more than that, and you know you want it," his tone is low and intimate, and still sad, "You'll pretend to struggle with it like some kind of fate is chasing you when this is what you really wanted from this trip. And in the end, after you played me for a fool, you're gonna realize that my little brother is the one you can't live without."
Elena keeps her eyes wide, like he's been stripping off her skin; it's her turn, for a change. She inhales sharply and trembles, looking at him horrified.
"Damon… I never- I-how can you-"
"We can do that," he says, his voice lighter for a moment when he says those four words, "I could follow you out of the door and down the hallway when you run from me, and I could to kiss you breathless against a pillar, until your skin burns. I could to do it all, and let you hurt both me and my brother. Because that's what you do," he says, "Against your best intentions," he adds when he sees her big brown eyes water up with mortification.
Her heartbeat is frantic, and he breaths in the smell of the cheap furniture.
"So, what will it be?" he asks, unblinking.
#
Elena can't look at him in the eyes for days, and it's uncomfortable but at least he's got the company of his pride now. It's new to him.
She feels the urge to avoid him as much as possible and still not let her friends know about what happened – or better, not happened- between them during their trip, so she keeps to herself. And Bonnie follows.
He's dying to bother her, to provoke her desire, to awaken some passion inside that wonderful body of hers but she's technically never alone.
So he must go through Elena first. Her resolve to avoid him crumbles as fast as usually does her resolve to be angry at him for his many faults.
Such a spine, this girl.
#
This time, when he pushes the door to Elena's bedroom it's Bonnie he's expecting to find. It's Bonnie he wants to see, and for once things go the way they are supposed to.
She's looking at herself in the mirror to check out her new dress for the ball, and he can't help but use this opportunity to look at her, too. She's holding her hair up from her face and she's very concentrated on what she sees. God, was she always so beautiful?
Bonnie is curvy and if he concentrates enough, he can vividly remember those curves under the palms of his hands. The pearly black of her dress gives a different glow to her mocha skin. She's not wearing shoes and he can see the bronze nail polish on her toes. The naked feet on the floor makes Damon recall the night when she was accessible and close and naked in his arms – things she could never be again. Not around him, he fears.
He knows there must be a way for him to get to her. He knows for a fact that he's able to read her, and yet this Bonnie cannot accept the idea of him being the one to decipher her.
She's pouting while she's contemplating her attire, and she looks so young, so cute. So tempting.
Once again she reminds him of a bird and he doesn't say anything.
This time she's the one to notice his presence.
Bonnie sees his face in the mirror, reflecting right behind her,.
"Oh, God!" she says pressing one hand to her chest, to will her heart to slow down.
Over the sea and far away
She's waiting like an iceberg
Waiting to change
But she's cold inside
She wants to be like the water
"Flattery will get you anywhere, little bird," he says with a grin.
She grimaces, turning towards him. So insolent, he gets on her nerves so easily. He's like a physical reflex, and it would feel quite hazardous if she let herself ponder about it.
"Is there something you're trying to do here other than give me a heart attack?"
"Your insinuations hurt my feelings. The regularity of your heartbeat is quite dear to me," he says, and he only half sounds like he's joking, "but I'll overlook it since I'm here for a happy occasion, little bird."
Oh, great, new nickname.
She rolls her eyes, annoyed with this familiarity he has with her. One or two degrees more than usual. Just enough to make her crazy.
"I'm not a little bird," she replies, crossing her arms under her breast.
"You look like one to me," he says, shrugging, "The feathers, the attitude. So gracious… can you sing too?" he asks suddenly curious.
All the muscles tighten in her face
Buries her soul in one embrace
They're one and the same
Just like water
He knows she's not the kind to sing in the shower. Mind you, she had no reason to be cheerful enough to sing when they lived together so he can't be certain.
"Crawl back to your hole of a happy occasion, Damon," she says, ignoring his question.
"I am already there," he replies and she looks at him like he's the maniac of the horror movie and she's the girl that survives them all. Well, he really wants her to.
"I took a good look at your dress," and what's under it, "So I know what corsage will suit it better. What's left to decide is at what hour I'm going to pick you up."
Bonnie brings one hand to her temple and looks like he's giving her a headache. That would really be some change.
"Am I supposed to know what the hell you're talking about?" she asks in exasperation.
"I'm going to be your date for the ball. Try and not faint from joy," He informs her.
"You're delusional," she says flatly.
The fire fades away
Most of everyday
Is full of tired excuses
But it's too hard to say
"I'm many things, one of those is your date for the ball," she's ready to send him to hell but he raises his hand to stop her from talking and then explains, "I can't go much into details but Elena is in danger, yada-yada, Rick is going to die unless we do something about it. Long story short, be ready at nine o'clock."
"I already have a date," oh he remembers that way too well, thank you very much, "and you expect me to humor you and waste my night at the ball with you because you can't go much into details about Elena and Alaric being in danger? You'll have to do better than that," she says, like she's daring him to find any reason good enough for her to do it.
"Listen," he says, serious and unbearably open, "I know you have the good habit to not trust me, which usually flatters me, but you know I just want Elena and Alaric to be safe. I know Esther is planning something, I know that she'll turn Rick and make you feed him-"
"I would never-"
"You know better than anybody what magic can do. So I need you to be with me."
He looks a lot like he's hanging from a thread. The mere concept of Damon putting himself in the position to be at her mercy is insane but here he is; a marble-white creature whom survived through centuries because he never gave anybody a second thought, never let anybody (else, but Katherine and Elena) have or suspect to have the upper hand, telling her he needs her with him.
"How do you know what's going to happen?"
"I can't tell you."
Bonnie shakes her head; a no is already playing on her tongue but "Please," he says, "I need you to trust me. Just this once."
I wish it were simple
But we give up easily
You're close enough to see that
You're the other side of the world to me
Fuck. It's all so unsettling. The sound of his voice, which has a note she can't help but like, the way he looks at her, so focused.
How painfully blue his eyes suddenly look.
She needs to swallow the rock stuck in her throat and cover her bare arms with her hands, almost hugging herself, because for a moment she fears she might not have her clothes on.
She doesn't trust him. Now more than ever, and yet she knows he's sincere – with all the things left unsaid, with all the concreteness he possess now - if he was ever sincere, he is right this moment.
"Okay. Fine," she says even if everything rational inside her head screams to kick him out, now, before it's too late.
"Look at the bright side. I'm a fantastic dancer," he grins swinging his hips, forcing her to bite her lips to not smile.
"See? You'll love it," he says, leaving the room. It sounds threatening, and she thinks she must be losing her mind because she can grill his ass any time she likes it and he can't be threatening to her.
"Nine thirty!" she screams once he's out of the door.
She must always have the last words, he smile shaking his head. She's just the same as ever.