Definition of Gluttony: act of overindulgence for the sake of pleasure- often refers to food and drink. For example, drinking to the point of drunkeness or drinking to decrease inhibitions.

CHAPTER 7: GLUTTONY

Loud.

That was Elena's first thought as soon as she realized that she had successfully arrived at another trial. Wherever she was…it was loud.

She slowly opened her eyes, and was quite unprepared to find herself in the midst of a bustling airport. In fact, Elena was so busy gaping at her surroundings that she didn't notice the man walking in her direction until he pointedly tapped her shoulder.

"Huh?" Her head whipped around to see Damon standing before her, wearing—of all things—a fedora. He had also left the top buttons of his white, long-sleeved collared shirt open. To top it all off, he was wearing large black shades. Indoors.

"This is who they sent to pick me up?" He looked her up and down (at least, she thought that's what he was doing—she couldn't see his eyes through those damn sunglasses), and then he shrugged. "Alright then, love. Where to?"

It was only then that Elena realized that she was holding a sign in her hands. She flipped it around to see the name 'Damon Salvatore' written in thick permanent marker across the front. "Oh…" she let her arm fall to her side and tried to smile, "I guess I'm here to pick you up."

Damon only stared at her impassively.

"Well, uh, right this way," Elena gestured to him and attempted to walk purposefully towards the exiting doors, without having any idea of where she was supposed to be taking him. She assumed that there would be some sort of car waiting for them, but the question was—

"Ms. Gilbert, over here!"

Elena looked towards the sound immediately, her eyes widening when she saw a man waving to her. He was standing next to a limousine.

"Over there, then?" Damon asked her dryly when she didn't move, and he began carting his luggage towards the limo where the driver opened the door and ushered him in.

She snapped out of her trance and hurried after him, her heels clicking loudly against the pavement. She slid into the limo after Damon, feeling supremely uncomfortable as he turned to look at her. "Could you take those off?" Elena scowled, pointing at his shades, "We're sitting inside a car!"

Damon raised an eyebrow but pulled them off, instantly wincing as the light hit his face. He squinted at her, "Happy now?"

Elena frowned, examining his bloodshot eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

He abruptly slid forward so that they were inches apart, his lips brushing against her cheek. "Take a wild guess," he breathed, laughing when she pushed him away in disgust.

"You're drunk," she accused, crossing her arms. "But you just got off a plane! How many of those little bottles of alcohol did you buy?"

"A lot," Damon grinned as he tried to remember. He caught her gaze and waggled his eyebrows, "The flight attendants were very accommodating to my needs."

"I'm sure they were."

He smirked when he saw the disdain in her expression. "Get your mind out of the gutter," he said lazily, "I was only talking about the freely flowing booze."

Elena began to reply but then realized that the limo had come to a full stop. Seconds later, the driver opened the door for them and they both stepped out to see...wait, was that the Salvatore boarding house? She stared at the mansion in front of her in bewilderment. They clearly weren't in Mystic Falls, but there was no denying the similarities between the two buildings.

"Hey," Caroline stepped out of the house and waved to her, "I hope you don't mind me stopping by, Elena. But Matt called and told me you hired him to cook all day and he was bored without anyone to talk to..." She trailed off when she saw Damon and her eyes narrowed as she took in his appearance. "Rough flight?" she asked coolly.

Damon muttered something under his breath.

"Well," Elena said uncertainly once the luggage had been brought into the house, "I guess you'll want to shower and stuff...um, Caroline, could you show him to his room? I'll just see how, er, Matt is doing with dinner."

Caroline shrugged indifferently and grabbed one of the duffel bags while Damon was left to tend to the suitcase. Elena waited until they had disappeared up the stairs before she made her way into what she assumed would be the kitchen. Her mouth dropped open when she stepped in to see the expansive room, complete with Matt standing at the stove and cooking up a tasty looking meal.

He turned around when she walked in and smiled at her broadly, "Elena! You actually made it back from the airport!"

"Sure," she returned the smile quizzically, "Why wouldn't I?"

"You know," Matt rolled his eyes, "I thought maybe that drunken moron would've gotten on the wrong flight and ended up in Hawaii instead."

Figuring out that he was referring to Damon, she nodded absentmindedly, "Well, he was drunk."

"Big surprise," Matt shook his head, "It sucks that Stefan is forcing you to be Damon's agent...I mean, hello—it's your company, too!" Elena could only blink in response, but Matt was already in full-rant mode. "If anything, Stefan should be the one shouldering the responsibility for his own freakin' brother! But no, of course it's a 'conflict of interest.' I'm telling you, Elena, everything that Stefan says is total bullshit. I don't know how you put up with him."

Elena hesitated "Well, he's—"

"Yeah, yeah. He's kinda your boss, I get it," Matt said dismissively, "But after him, you practically run the place!" He sighed, "It just sucks that everyone else refused to take the job and you had to. I know how much you despise Damon."

Caroline barged into the kitchen at that moment, looking harassed. "God, I hate that guy!" she seethed, "The first thing he wants to know after he sees his room is why there's no minibar in there! What does he think this is—some kind of hotel?" Her hair swung around her shoulders as she stomped around the kitchen agitatedly, "So, I told him! Like, reality check, buddy! You're only here to work on your novel before your publishing company is forced to—"

"CARE!" Matt bellowed, and she stopped. "You're getting all riled up again," he said, patting her head indulgently, "Why don't you save all that pent-up aggression for your fiancé?"

She huffed, "Don't you worry, I have plenty of aggression left over when I see Tyler." She glanced at her watch, "Speaking of which, I should really be getting home so I can work off some of that aggression." She winked mischievously and strutted out the door, "Good luck with the idiot living upstairs, Elena. I'll see you at work in the morning."

Matt grinned at the expression on Elena's face. "Don't worry, you've always been able to work well with your clients. Eventually." He turned off the stove and removed his apron. "Dinner is just about set. Should I call Damon into the dining room?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Elena agreed, "I just have to check on something first." Matt nodded and she quickly swept out of the room, her feet carrying her all the way to a room at the end of a long hallway. She nudged the door open, and found herself in a large office space.

Her office, to be more specific.

The desk was covered with magazine articles and post-it notes, and Elena curiously picked up the closest one only to see a tabloid picture of Damon stumbling out of a bar, being held up by someone whose face was in shadow. She frowned, looking over the other articles and noticing that they were all of the same caliber. Then she happened to look down at the phone sitting on the corner of her desk. The 'messages' light was blinking so she reached over to press it.

You have one new message. "Elena, it's me," Stefan's voice said, sounding impatient. "I tried calling your cell but you didn't answer. I know my brother landed because there's already paparazzi photos online of him stepping off the plane. He looks drunk, which isn't a surprise to me and probably isn't a surprise to you either. Tell him I don't care how hungover he is, but he better come into work with you tomorrow morning and he better be ready to start writing." There was a pause and then Stefan continued in a quieter voice, "I know you didn't want the job, Elena. And I'm sorry I had to force you to take it, but I had no other choice. I'll see you in the morning." Beep. End of new messages.

Elena was still trying to understand what exactly was going on when there was a loud knock on the door. "Come in," she called out impulsively, and regretted it almost immediately when Damon stepped into her office, his gaze darting around the room. "What?" she asked tiredly, "You didn't like the food?"

"The food looks delicious. I was waiting for you," Damon answered offhandedly, moving to look at the papers spread out on her desk. An amused smile played at his lips, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were some sort of stalker."

She glared, "I'm your agent. It's my job to know these things."

"I know, I know," he raised his hands in surrender, "Sheesh. So touchy." He glanced at her to judge her reaction before he shifted aside some of the articles and pulled out a book she hadn't noticed before. "So, what did you think?"

Elena took the book out of his hands, her gaze skimming over the title and the author's name below it. Damon Salvatore.

Determined to regain control of the situation, she firmly put the book back down on the desk and met his gaze. "What I think is that you should really go eat dinner and then go to bed because we have an early start tomorrow morning. Your brother has already called and you will be going into work with me. Contrary to whatever presumptions you have made, this is not a vacation. Got it?"

Damon's eyes flashed with anger. "Fine. Then you might want to tell your little cook that he forgot to bring out a bottle of wine. I'm accustomed to—"

"And while you're on this non-vacation," Elena interrupted in a steely voice, "There will be no alcohol of any sort. No wine with dinner. No beer with lunch. And certainly no mimosas with breakfast. Capiche?"

Silence.

"This relationship could have gone a very different way, Elena," he said in a dangerously low voice before he turned on his heel and strode out of her office without another word, slamming the door so forcefully behind him that the glass ornaments on her shelves shook precariously.

Shaken, Elena took a deep breath to calm her nerves before she reached over to pick up his book again. Then, she settled herself into a comfy armchair in the corner of the office and began to read.

*another 2-parter :)