A/N: This is yet another one-shot in an attempt to get the ideas to write something more substantial. This is based on the idea that Damon got to Elena first and asked Elena to marry him in a sort of game (after all, he is the Damon we met in season 1). Stefan did follow his brother to Mystic Falls to try to dissuade the lovely Elena from marrying his brother, but as you will see she is very much in love even with this Damon. Hope you like it. R&R
The title is taken from an Emily Dickinson poem, which I own no more of than The Vampire Diaries.
Elena knew that Damon was preoccupied. In fairness, he wasn't exactly a hard guy to read. He stared off into the fire of the library, his eyes so far away and his expression sour. She stared at him from the doorway, leaning against it with her hip pressed against the wall. Concern mingled with the knowledge that he might need space. This wasn't the Damon she was used to, the charismatic character who would have noticed her some time ago and made some witty remark before planting a kiss on her neck. A part of her wished that she could have that man back, but a voice in the back of her head told her that this was the more real of the two. She wanted real. She wanted a life with him after all. She loved this Damon too, and it was this realization that made her decide to cross the distance between them.
She tiptoed across the floor, a fistful of her ivory slip in her hand while the other held a tall glass of merlot. The dark concoction still warmed her throat and played across her tongue as she walked, but she brought it to her lips as she stood in front of Damon's leather chair, "you didn't come to bed." She observed after a long sip. Her tongue flicked across her top lip as she pulled the glass away, drawing away any droplets she might have left.
Damon looked her up and down, the sheerness of the fabric at her breasts, the flowing cascade of silk that danced across her ankles even as she was still. She looked sexy, but there was no question it was by design. She had curled her dark tresses at the bottom so that they crashed like waves over her shoulders; her eyes showed a smokiness that he had to admit was enticing. It was only her lips that remained untouched by any purposeful change, tinged as they were only with the wine she had been sipping. She had come expecting a romantic night, and all he had was brooding silence. He suddenly had to fight the urge to apologize for his mood.
"you look beautiful." His voice was a dark whisper, and Elena put her glass down before slipping lithely onto the arm of the chair beside him. She ran her fingers through his hair.
"you can tell me." She assured just as quietly, so that the words could have been lost in the crackle of the fire, but to her surprise Damon let out a derisive laugh.
"I can't, Elena, that's the problem."
Elena had to fight past her shock to answer, and she fought to keep her voice calm and supportive, "I love you. Whatever it is I promise I'll still love you." It was true of course, she was hopelessly in love with Damon Salvatore, and no matter if he dropped a bomb shell this night, or if she was horribly mad, she would love him.
Damon twisted in his seat, grabbing her waist and pulling her into his lap. She blinked up at his tormented face and ran a finger across his hard features. She raised her head and ran her lips against the bridge of his nose until she felt his sigh play across her skin. His arms encircled her back and pulled her close. It was a very different intimacy then she had been expecting, but it made her heart swell to think that perhaps Damon did need her as much as she needed him. She felt more loved in this embrace than she had in any other, and she found herself whispering promises into his ear. She was here. She would never leave him. They had each other now. Tears fell from her eyes as she spoke, dark stains down her cheek, dangling precariously on her chin before dropping on his collar bone. He pulled her away from him as he felt the wetness, looking perplexed as he brushed a tear with his thumb.
"You're crying?" his question had morphed into mocking when he spoke, and he immediately regretted it.
Elena blushed and wiped her eyes furiously with her palm, slipping from his lap and getting to her feet with shaking legs, "sorry. It's stupid. You've just never relied on me for anything before, not like this." She turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself and thinking of how to escape with what little dignity she had left.
She heard Damon get up from the chair, but still jumped as she felt his hand on her shoulder, "I messed up, Elena, I don't have a lot of experience with this you know."
"With what?" she sniffed, turning back to him. He took the opportunity to run his hand across her cheek.
"With you. With love in general. I've made some bad choices in women before you. None have been as good as you, or cared like you do." He had also never told so much of the truth to a woman before, not since Katherine, and here he was looking into the same eyes, touching the same skin, and it couldn't have been more different. Elena's eyes were alight with adoration, with gentleness and sweetness. When he had looked into Katherine's he had seen nothing but the fire that drove her every move, the self serving flames that had kept her alive for so long. When he had told Katherine things it was because he had been blind enough to believe that she had cared, but with Elena he would have been blind not to see that she did.
"Katherine" Elena was almost afraid to utter her name, as though it were some curse or plague. She didn't know what it was about this girl, but there was something foreboding about even mentioning her. Damon didn't need to acknowledge her comment for Elena to know that she was right. It was always Katherine.
Yes, Katherine. Damon had come to Mystic Falls with the express intention of finding the girl and vampire whom he had fallen in love with all those years ago in 1864. She was the driving force behind all of his actions; she was why he had found Elena in fact. His fiancé had been a game until not long ago, a way to abate the loneliness that came with searching for an entombed immortal. For a while he had been able to look into those eyes and see only Katherine. He had even been able to take her love greedily with only her mirror image in mind, but seeing Elena, it scared him. He was so close to achieving his goal, what he had worked toward his entire life as a vampire, but he wasn't sure he wanted it anymore. The fiery siren no longer held the spell over him that she once had. Damon could just as easily picture himself with the passionate girl before him, the one who cried for him and loved him as only a human could, with the wild abandon that came with knowing you did not truly have forever. But how could he drop the pursuit that had been his life blood, his sustenance, for so many years? He had to rescue Katherine, didn't he?
He wanted to tell Elena all of this, wanted to unload his overburdened soul and tell her what he was. He didn't want to hold back his past or the people he'd killed or the monster he'd allowed himself to become until he had grown to love her. He wanted to know what she thought he should do. It was crazy, asking your fiancé what you should do about your eternal love. He couldn't even tell her what he was. He had fooled himself into thinking that because it was him, because he was her fiancé, she would accept what he was. But no, that would never be the case. He murdered to survive, and Elena was far too good to accept that, and there was no way in hell he was going on Stefan's diet. He had his standards.
So, instead he grabbed the wine glass from the side table and brought it to his own lips, she stood watching him for a moment before reaching for the glass. He handed it to her without a word and sat back heavily, still weighed down by his secrets. Elena's eyebrows knitted together. She wanted to ask what troubled him, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to know. The girl was dead, and still her ghost haunted the Salvatore brothers. Her power was intense enough even in death to keep Elena's mouth shut. Damon would tell her one day, she was sure. She would get more than the vague details and they would share the sadness together. He wasn't ready though, not now. What mattered at the moment was that he realized she was here for him. There was nothing more she could do.
She stepped over to him, running her fingers over his eyes, forcing his eyelids to close. He caught her hand as it traveled to his lips, kissing them briefly before releasing them, "good night, Damon." She whispered, leaving as silently as she could and making her way up the staircase to his bedroom. She sighed as she entered the room, closing the door tight behind her and bracing her back against it. She felt exhausted. She felt old, as though all of Damon's sadness had manifested itself in her, and as sadness does, aged her greatly. She looked longingly at the monstrous bed that took up most of the space, but didn't turn straight to it. Instead she went to the bathroom. She scooped her hair into a messy bun at the base of her head, wiped her face free of the makeup that had been put on only an hour or two before in an attempt to entice Damon to this bedroom…not that he ever needed much convincing. Only then, feeling much freer than before was she able to crawl into the bed and let her eyes close.
It was hours before Damon finally ended his reverie and followed Elena's trek up the stairs. He had been replaying his moments with Katherine. He had known her for such a short time, but there were so many looks to decipher, so many lazy afternoons of strolling through the gardens, playing football, marveling at her confidence and beauty. His relationship with Elena, how tangible it was, how connected they were, had him questioning how real he and Katherine had ever been. Had she ever shown an interest in him? She had certainly shown one in his brother. He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his thoughts at the subject of Stefan, despite his confusion over the girl. Here Stefan was again, playing the hero, trying to poison Elena against him, trying to protect her, as though Damon would hurt her. Well, he wouldn't let that happen. Stefan claimed he was trying to keep Elena from Katherine's fate, but by playing these games he was only driving her closer to it. Making her choose, trying to woo her, making her question his motives for cutting Stefan out of his life, it was all designed to make her fall in love with him, and so help him, Damon would fight for her.
Damon stopped in the doorway of his room, watching Elena's sleeping form in his bed. Her knees were curled in toward her chest, her hand open on his pillow as though searching for him. The fabric still clung to her body, revealing every curve. He walked over and kissed her bare shoulder, and she stirred slightly, but she was in such a deep sleep that she didn't wake. He kicked off his boots and stripped down to his boxers, sliding into bed beside her and taking her waiting hand in his own. He turned his head to look at her, glad to see that she looked more like herself. The makeup was gone to reveal the clean, gentle face he had grown accustomed to. It was true that she had looked beautiful, but he far preferred her this way. It was only in looking at her that he was able to fall into an untroubled sleep.