Holy cow! An 8,000+ word chapter. It's like I love you guys or something ;)
This chapter drained the life out of me and took up almost 20 pages of a word document so I'm interested to see what you think of it. Fair warning: there's a bit of a time jump that takes place as you can see by the date, but I try to explain what's gone down in between. I'll talk a little bit more at the end, but hope you enjoy!
March 2007:
"It is essential that we realize once and for all that man is much more of a sex creature than a moral creature. The former is inherent, the other is grafted on." – Emma Goldman
"You've never been to the beach?"
Elena rapidly shook her head, sliding her socked feet back and forth on the hardwood floor as she sucked salt off of her thumb. Damon was pouring the latest batch of popcorn into a large bowl at the breakfast bar, but had halted completely at the latest reveal.
"How is that even possible?" He balked, his mouth hanging open in shock.
Elena shrugged, hopping up to cross the living room. She headed into the kitchen for a water bottle. "Blame it on strict parents and an inland hometown. LA is the farthest away from home I've ever been. I think I was only ever out of the state once or twice, and that was to just visit relatives."
Damon let out a low whistle, finishing his task. They headed back to the couch they'd been settled in for almost two hours with their respective items. "Well, then. Guess we have plans for tomorrow."
Elena frowned, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "What happened to job searching for you and auditions for me?"
"Come on, we're running ourselves ragged, Elena." It was true. They definitely couldn't be faulted for lack of trying. Damon interviewed with about two firms a week while Elena had attended at least fifty auditions over the nearly two months they'd been there. But, alas, Hollywood hadn't been quite as welcoming as expected. Damon was still without a job and Elena had only booked one: a low-budget commercial that was scrapped two weeks before it was meant to air.
Thankfully, Giuseppe's offer was keeping them afloat for the time being. Once Damon had informed him of his plans to leave, his father had practically thrown money at them. Since Damon and Elena had chose to not take too much with them, they'd been able to get into the fully furnished apartment Giuseppe had provided the day they flew in. They would have total financial support for the first year if they needed it. But after every missed audition and failed interview, that cut-off date sounded more and more disturbing.
Elena sighed. "It's not that bad."
Damon cocked his eyebrows. "Really? Let's talk about how you grabbed a bottle of olive oil instead of water." Elena's eyes widened as she looked at her hand, letting out a disbelieving giggle. "You want to blame that on something other than exhaustion?"
Elena shook her head rapidly. "Swear to God, I would have taken a sip of that if you hadn't warned me." She pushed herself off of the couch to fix her mistake. "Alright, fine. We might need a break."
She could practically feel Damon's victorious grin burning into her back. "Perfect. You can't live in southern California and not go to the beach. We'll head to Malibu tomorrow."
Happy thoughts of sun and sand and breaking waves flooded Elena's mind as she made her way back. But before she could reach the couch, she abruptly stopped as she realized a brand new problem.
"What's wrong?" Damon asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern.
Elena flushed slightly under his scrutinous gaze. "We might have a bit of an issue with the whole 'beach thing.'"
"What is it?" Damon's eyes widened as he entertained a thought. "Wait, can you not swim?"
"No, no. I was taught how to swim. Too many bodies of water nearby. They didn't want the kids to drown." Elena paused, her gaze shifting downwards. "This is a more technical one."
"I can't really read your mind so you're going to have to fill in the blank yourself," Damon replied.
Elena prepared herself to reveal the somewhat embarrassing truth. "I don't own a swimsuit."
Damon coughed loudly after having mistakenly taken a sip of his beer as she'd answered. "You're joking." He shot back.
"I don't think I've owned a swimsuit since I was eight."
Damon shook his head back and forth in disbelief. A mischievous smirk, one that Elena had only witnessed a few times since they'd moved, formed on his face. "Let me guess. Ol' 'Jesus-ville' didn't allow bikinis?"
Elena's face reddened significantly at the remark. She quickly went back to her position on the couch, making sure to place herself on the complete opposite end. "Um, no. Not really."
She could feel Damon's teasing stare on her for nearly thirty seconds before he picked up the remote again. He un-paused the latest episode of Law and Order: SVU they'd been engrossed in, but not before he made one last remark that made Elena's entire body tense.
"Well then, we're adding a shopping trip to tomorrow's schedule. I, for one, can't wait."
"Damon, stop that."
Damon laughed, grinning like a Cheshire cat as Elena smacked his hand away from the lacy underwear he'd picked up. He'd been entertaining himself by wandering through the overpriced lingerie store while she'd been trying on suits.
"You know, I'm totally fine if you want to get some panty shopping done, too."
Elena rolled her eyes, fumbling with the item in her hand. "Two things. Number one: you know how much I hate the word 'panty,' so stop. And two: is becoming a sexually flirtatious man-boy part of your breakup healing?"
Damon's face fell at her insinuation. Regardless of how long it had been since Rose had left him, it still stung slightly whenever she was brought up. He didn't necessarily think his comments were out of character for him. He'd made plenty of salacious remarks in the past, but they'd been to Rose. And now, since she was the only woman in his life, Elena had ended up on the receiving end of the habit. It was an irksome coping mechanism, but he was satisfied with how comfortable their relationship had become, especially given how awkward the first few weeks had been. He definitely didn't want to rock the boat for even a second.
"I'm not actually going to act on anything," he replied defensively. "Don't get your panties in a twist." Elena growled as he smirked. "Now, let's see what you're getting."
He noticed a flash of guilt cross her face for a moment before she shook it away. Damon grabbed the coral Lycra fabric from her arms. "That was the only one I liked," she mumbled.
Damon shot her a look, holding the top up so he could see. "A tankini? You're killing me here."
"It looks fine on me!"
"I don't doubt it looks fine on you, Elena." Damon sensed another inappropriate comment brewing so he attempted to placate her more platonically. "You're not exactly rocking a bad body." He threw the garment back on a nearby rack despite her protest. "Did you even look at a bikini?"
"I didn't like any of them," she replied.
Damon scoffed. "No, you didn't like how you looked in them. There's a difference."
He noticed something flame up in her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not true."
An idea formed in Damon's head at the intensity of her protest. He tried to keep a poker face as he continued. "Yeah, you did. You're a woman. You got all vulnerable, thought you looked fat. The usual. It's fine. You can just wear a t-shirt and shorts to the beach like all of the other insecure girls."
Elena's eyes widened so significantly it took everything in Damon to hold back a laugh. "Excuse me. I can rock a bikini. That wasn't the problem."
"Fine. Prove it. Put one on and show me."
Damon knew Elena wasn't stupid. She wouldn't actually fall for his reverse psychology. But regardless, he noted her resolve to play along. "Fine," she shot back without hesitation.
His eyes sparkled as he ran his hand along the adjacent rack. "How about…. this one?" Damon couldn't resist chuckling at the shocked expression on her face as she took in the bright white string bikini.
Clearly she wasn't totally game for anything. "No. I pick." Elena turned on her heel, pointing in the direction of the dressing room. "You can wait in a chair like all the other pervy boyfriends."
Damon smirked. "Gladly," he called out after her. Thankfully, the store was unusually un-crowded so they would have the area to themselves.
He sat patiently in his chair until she came back, guarding the items in her hands so that he wouldn't see in advance. "Those better be bikinis," he cautioned.
"They are," she sung out, slamming the door of the stall closed behind her. Damon shifted in his chair, feeling a sense of anticipation take over him. He was pretty sure the most amount of skin he'd ever seen on Elena was from a pair of pajama shorts. Maybe at one point there'd been a tank top that had shown a slight amount of cleavage. Beyond that, she dressed fairly conservatively. Since they lived in a two-bedroom apartment with separate bathrooms, there had been little opportunity for him to accidentally see her half-dressed.
But as he saw her jeans fall to the floor through the small amount of space visible underneath the door, a sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.
What the hell was he doing?
This was Elena. Yes, they'd had that ridiculous kiss he made every effort to not consider when he looked at her. And sure, it wasn't like he'd never thought of her that way. But this was way too much. Elena was literally modeling a bikini for him so she could prove that she looked hot in one. She was an eighteen year old girl with a penchant for being emotionally damaged and he was a twenty-five year old with the exact same. This was crossing a line that he just couldn't reason away.
Damon shot up, trying to form an excuse to get out of the now seemingly suffocating room. But before he could tell her he needed to go grab a coffee or something equally mundane, the door swung open and Elena came out… wearing nothing but a revealing swimsuit
Her expression was a mix of defiance and apprehension. She, like Damon, had obviously lost a fair amount of confidence since the actual challenge. Of course, Damon was being generous to say he was focused on her face.
In a twisted way, the bikini was basically Elena in swimsuit form: sweet but still frustratingly appealing. It was pink with white polka dots, a white frill adorning the tops of both pieces. The most tempting part stemmed from the underwire cups, hosting two pieces of Elena's anatomy that Damon had never been so familiar with.
"Now would you care to tell me I'm not rocking this?" She contested meekly. Damon could barely comprehend the question, his eyes still scanning over her olive skin as his mouth went dry.
"Oh, you're definitely rocking that." The distinctively male voice was enough to shake Damon out of his reverie. His head whipped around to the guy who had just entered. He was in his twenties and Damon really hoped that he had a female companion somewhere else in the store. Regardless, the guy's blatant come-on was making both Elena and Damon incredibly uncomfortable.
Damon shot the guy a deadly glare, indicating he needed to leave as soon as he possibly could. Once the pervert had scampered off, he turned his attention back to Elena. He quickly determined that was a mistake. Damon needed her back in normal clothes as soon as possible.
"Yeah, you look great. Now let's buy it and go." Damon was suddenly grateful that their day had had a late start and they'd had to delay their beach trip for some other unforeseen weekend. He could at least have another few weeks before he'd be subjected to seeing her so exposed again.
Frustration marred Elena's features at his undesired response. "What's your problem?"
"My problem is that Pervy McPervpants is wandering through the store," Damon hissed. "and I think it's best to get you out of here and clothed quickly."
Elena's eyes lit up in fear slightly at the intensity of his words. Damon wasn't even close to freaked out by the guy, but his desire to get out of the dressing room made his statement seem harsh. He didn't feel too bad about it, though. If fear put her back into those jeans, then fear is what he'd have to use.
"Fine," she mumbled, although decidedly less heated, as she walked back into the small stall.
Damon let out a sigh of relief once she was safely out of his sight. He hated seeing her like he just had. All of those provocative comments and occasional glances had morphed into something a lot bigger than he'd realized. There was no way in hell he could get involved with Elena, no matter how vivid the imagery was when she'd stepped out in that swimsuit.
He made his way back into the main part of the store, needing to take a breath. Thankfully, the staring guy had left. His thoughts, unwillingly, drifted to Rose. Rose was the only woman he'd ever slept with and now, after being thrown out on his ass into the world of being a bachelor, he had almost zero comprehension of how to have a sexual identity outside of her. He wasn't the type of guy who would immediately get into bed with ten different women the second he was single. In fact, the very idea of trying to date or be in a new relationship made his head ache.
Sexual fantasies, thoughts, or dreams… they could be dealt with. But there was no way in hell he could ever actually act on any of them with Elena. A part of him realized it wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility, but the better part recognized just how bad of an idea it really was.
First of all, the age and experiential difference between the two was staggering. Sure, Damon wasn't some douchebag who prided himself in his sexual prowess, but he was sure as hell of a lot farther down the path than her. Her first and only kisses had been with him.
Secondly, each had some strict emotional baggage. Elena, with her orthodox upbringing, and Damon's betrayal by the one woman he ever loved made them quite the overly strung out pair. Both were left with blank slates once they'd moved to LA and Damon realized they had a lot to figure out about themselves over the next few months. Trying to put those two ticking time bombs into a relationship was like locking a lion and a tiger into a small room. Someone was going to end up torn apart and Damon was pretty sure it wouldn't be him.
Finally, they were partners. Elena was chasing her near impossible dream and Damon was trying to make something for himself outside of his small hometown. They relied on each other. Elena needed protecting, a guardian in the big, bad city, and Damon needed something reliable, something familiar. If he ever tried to tarnish that with something sexual, he would screw them both over. It was better for everyone involved if they maintained a familial, platonic relationship. Nothing more, nothing less. It was simple.
Elena came from behind him, the previous anger long gone. "Alright, let's go." Damon's gaze followed her denim-clad backside as she headed towards the counter.
Yeah, it was definitely going to be harder than it seemed.
Damon let out a loud groan as he stepped into the apartment complex's elevator. Another day, another interview that made him feel like a worthless piece of shit. At least the guy had told him before the thing was even over that he wasn't getting the job offer. No point in wasting time hoping for the impossible.
Now, he was obligated to play nice with their new neighbor. Elena had invited the guy over for drinks last week, making sure to indicate that Damon was "thrilled" to meet another man his age. The fact that Elena was basically setting him up on a play date made him want to barf, but at least there was alcohol involved. He could easily play along for that.
Yet, much to his surprise, the expected company was already over by the time he arrived. Elena was giggling from the stool at the breakfast bar, "new guy" seated next to her nursing a beer.
Damon chucked his keys on the dining room table, forcing a faked smile for their guest. "Hey. I'm sorry I'm late. I thought this was supposed to be at seven."
Elena shot him a glare at the slight dig, but the guy just laughed. "Yeah, sorry about that. Work is kicking my ass lately and I knew I needed to get back to some stuff early. I came by to say I wouldn't be able to make it, but your lovely roommate here informed me that pushing the drinks forward wouldn't be a problem."
Elena's stare dared Damon to challenge her, but he was too tired to even attempt a go at that tornado of crazy. Damon sighed and made his way into the kitchen towards the small supply of bottles lined up on the counter. "Well, that's totally fine. I just feel bad that you got stuck with a girl who made you drink beer. Would you like some bourbon?"
Elena flushed as their neighbor chuckled. "That would be fantastic on any other occasion, but since I have to head for the office after this, I should probably only have a slight buzz. Safe driving and all." He stuck his hand over the counter towards Damon. "Nice to meet you, by the way. I'm Alaric."
"God, I just cannot believe how lucky this is. I mean he basically handed you a job!"
Elena had wandered back into the living room, now decked out in flannel pajama pants and grey t-shirt, her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head. Damon sighed, wiping down the counter one last time from his half-assed attempt at dinner, before chucking the towel in the laundry basket near the entrance to his room.
"Yeah, well, if only it was in a field I'd actually deign to work in."
Elena flunked down on the couch, picking a piece of lint off of her shirt absentmindedly. "It will be okay, Damon. If you want to make it temporary until you find one you actually like, that's fine. Besides, who knows? You may love it."
Damon halted in his movements, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared at Elena. "Um… Elena? There's no way in hell I'm going in for that interview."
Elena let out a slight disbelieving laugh. "Um, yes you are. It's basically a guaranteed hiring."
"Um, no I'm not. The only thing 'basically guaranteed' is misery."
After socializing for about half an hour or so, Alaric had revealed the occupation that was forcing him to return to the office so late: entertainment lawyer. To put it frankly, he protected celebrities whenever they got divorced or in trouble. Throw in a few restraining orders and the occasional disputes between production companies and you had yourself a career. Elena's eyes had lit up at the first mention of the word "lawyer" and she was immediately selling Damon as if she were his agent. Alaric mentioned that the firm was desperate for someone with more corporate experience and when Elena had mentioned where Damon had gone to school, Alaric threw him a business card. Apparently one of the partners was an alumnus of the university and donated frequently. Alaric said that there was no doubt in his mind that one look at Damon's résumé and he'd be hired.
"I'm not going to waste my time playing babysitter to a bunch of immature, good-for-nothing famous people!"
Elena was still stuck on the couch, eyes widened in shock. "Damon, Alaric is essentially giving you a job. I mean the salary alone-"
"I'm not a lawyer for the cash, Elena. I do it because I love what I do. If I worked for that kind of soul-sucking firm, I'd hate myself. I'd come home miserable every single day!"
"You don't know that!"
"Yes, I do! And you can't just work at a firm temporarily. It's not that kind of job. You make commitments, contracts."
"Well, then fine! You get your feet on the ground, build up your experience, and then quit after a few years."
"A few years?" Damon was becoming more frustrated by the second. "Elena, how are we even having this conversation? I told you I'm not taking the job! It's absurd that you think you have any say over this!"
Elena shot up and met Damon where he was standing. Her voice lowered until it was chillingly firm. "Damon, when I chose to move out here, I came here to do what I love. And that was to be an actress. Would it be fabulous if, on my first day here, I'd been offered some fabulous movie role or reoccurring television character? Of course! But I recognize that I have little experience and a lot of factors going against me. So I take every opportunity to audition as seriously as the damn plague and I work my ass off to do the best job possible, even if all I'll be doing is selling a damn fruit juice! I do it because soon I will get the chance to play fabulous characters and at least, along the way, I'm doing what I love. So pardon me for not feeling sympathetic for your damn cause because you want to be picky about whom you're seeking justice for. Let me know when you're offered a job that is perfectly suited to your every whim and fancy. Meanwhile, I'll be sitting around counting all of the fucking cash growing on our own personal money tree!"
Damon held her furious gaze for a few moments before she spun on her heel and rushed into her room, slamming the door hard enough to make him flinch. He let out a large exhale, running his hand over his face.
His earlier resolve was faltering after her rant. He would be lying if what she said hadn't been logical. Elena was doing everything in her power to contribute to the household and her job market was even riskier than his. He knew she was freaking out about their income situation, even though their deadline wasn't for another nine months or so. And it wasn't as if his interviews were increasing in quality or quantity. He was running out of places to go. Having that advantage of knowing and befriending a partner in a successful firm was an opportunity he would probably not have again for a long time.
Then his mind drifted to his original motivation for heading out west: "winning" against Rose. Damon wasn't exactly sure of the salary he'd get, but it was fairly obvious it would be one pretty number. And if he were working with such well-known figures, his name would probably grace the papers at least once or twice. A small smirk formed as he imagined Rose's face if she ever came across it. Her life would amount to staying in that one-horse town and having some kids while Damon was living a life of luxury working for the elite and influential.
Damon knew the motivation was crap, but if it was enough to keep him working for the next year or so, he could deal with it. Plus, Alaric was nice enough and he didn't seem like the elitist douchebags Damon was picturing. To top it all off, it would make Elena happy. And Damon knew Elena, with all of the fruitless auditions she'd gone through in the past few weeks, needed to be happy.
Damon took one last deep breath before solidifying himself in his decision and crossed over to Elena's door. After knocking and hearing a meek "Come in," he pushed it open.
Damon's mouth lifted into a half-smile at her small body curled up on her bed, but it faded when he saw the tear tracks on her cheeks. He sighed as she stared at him with pitiful eyes, not even bothering to hide or cover up her distress.
"I'll go in for the interview."
Like a bullet, Elena shot up from her place and rushed towards him, causing an inelegant sound to fall from his lips when she collided with him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as she buried her head into his chest.
He met her embrace, his hands firmly placed on her back, as he shifted slightly, creating what felt like a peaceful rocking motion. "That doesn't necessarily mean I'll get the job."
"Bullshit," Elena mumbled into his shirt and he chuckled. As he smoothed his hands over her cotton tee, he recognized, startlingly, that this was the first time he'd ever hugged Elena. Sure, they'd kind of skipped right over that with that unmentioned kiss in her dorm room and he recalled the occasional "arm draped over the top of the couch" when she sat next to him, but in the nearly eight months he'd known her, three of which they'd been roommates, they'd never once shared a hug. He sighed again, placing a kiss into her hair.
It was one of the first times he realized how truly whipped he was for this one girl.
"You couldn't be sexy if you tried."
Elena felt all of the color rush from her face. She'd just finished up an audition for a television show, one she'd been lucky just to stand in line for, and instead of the typical "Thank you. We'll be in touch." the casting agent had immediately told her that there was no chance in hell she would get the part. Elena, realizing it was a unique opportunity, decided to ask him why that was the case, regardless of the searing rejection she felt. But now, she was wishing she had just walked away.
"Excuse me?" She stuttered, trying not to sound as offended as she felt.
"You have the sex appeal of a piece of cold shrimp," he replied in an accent she'd yet to determine. "There's no way you could play 'fuckability.'"
Elena's heart started racing at his degrading words. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to vomit or cry. Never in her life had she felt this horrible about herself.
Elena made one last attempt at saving face, trying to be as professional as she possibly could. "Do you have any tips for how I could fix that?"
The agent wasn't even deigning to look at her anymore, his two associates on either side of him appearing just as bored. "Yeah, lose fifteen pounds, get some plastic surgery, and buy me about ten drinks. Then maybe you could get it up."
Elena knew she was about five seconds from bawling her eyes out so she muttered a quick "Thank you for your time" and raced out of the room. Even though it was humiliating to walk into a lobby filled with about fifty other girls and start to cry, Elena couldn't stop herself. Tears streamed down her face, and it didn't help that the women she was rushing past all looked as if they should be on a runway.
When Elena got to her small car in the parking deck, another gift from Giuseppe, she lost it, breaking into sobs the second the door was closed. She was nearing what must have been her seventieth audition and she was getting nowhere. And now, after the casting director's lovely "advice," Elena realized why.
She wasn't hot. It wasn't as if Elena was completely naïve to the idea. She was, after all, a young girl. A day didn't go by where she didn't have some sort of insecure thought. She wasn't exactly rocking the perfect body and she knew she looked slightly younger than her age. But she didn't think she was hideous.
How could she stand out in these countless auditions when every girl that walked in after or before was practically flawless? If she couldn't get some overweight middle-aged man interested in her, how would she convince anyone to hire her?
Elena sniffled a few more times, calming herself down. Thankfully, she had nothing scheduled for the rest of the day and could head straight home. At least she knew there was someone waiting at the apartment that could make her feel better.
Damon smiled as he heard the front door open from behind him. "Hey, I just made some coffee. Do you want a cup?" He finished pouring his own as he watched her settle at the dining room table.
"Um, yeah. Sure." She propped her elbow on the table and leaned her head into her palm, slightly rubbing circles with her thumb. "Why are you making coffee so late?" she mumbled.
"Well, Alaric wasn't kidding: this job is kicking my ass. I have some paperwork I had to bring home." He poured the steaming liquid into a second mug and grabbed two packets of Splenda for her to pour in. Damon pulled out the chair next to her and placed the cups down. "And before you ask: no, I can't tell you who it's for."
Elena ripped open the small packets and sluggishly poured them in one at a time into her drink. "I know," she muttered. "Lawyer-client confidentiality. I get it."
Damon frowned at her obvious discontent. She looked fairly worn down, but that wasn't too unusual. It was the complete lack of hopefulness and the fact that her eyes seemed lifeless. "Bad audition?" He asked.
Elena simply nodded, taking her first sip.
Damon let out an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, whose ass does big brother have to kick?"
Since Damon had meant for the remark to cheer her up, he was shocked when her expression immediately went cold. "Excuse me?"
"Um…" He felt like he should be apologizing, but he wasn't sure quite for what. "I was kidding. Whatever idiot at the audition that didn't like you is like the playground bully and as your big brother, I'm supposed to beat him up. Since you're like my little sister."
If anything, her gaze grew even more foul after his explanation. She pursed her lips, setting the coffee down on the table. "So, what you're saying is… is that I'm like your cute little sister?"
Damon's eyebrows furrowed. Her reaction was so bewildering that he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. "I mean it was just a joke, but yeah, I guess."
If Elena were a cartoon character, she would have had billows of steam pouring out of her ears. "So, since you see me as your little sister, that means you're not attracted to me?"
Damon suddenly realized how the dots connected. He knew that it would be a lie for him to say he'd never been attracted to her, but he also remembered the deal he'd made with himself on the day of the bikini incident. Telling her that he found her appealing would only screw up the precarious balance of their relationship. It just wasn't worth the risk or the awkwardness it would cause. He wasn't exactly sure why she looked about ready to deck him for the insinuation, but he knew what he needed to do.
Damon shook his head back and forth. "Yep. Don't get me wrong. You're pretty, but I'm definitely not attracted to you. You're just my friend so I guess the familial analogy works."
He wasn't sure how it was possible, but her eyes became even more enflamed with fury. She let out a bitter scoff. "Fuck you, Damon." Elena abruptly stood up, nearly spilling the full mug of coffee and stomped into her room. The slammed door would make it the second this month, except this time, Damon had no clue how what he'd said could have made her so upset.
He shot up, too, striding over to bang on the door. "Elena, please come out. I don't understand what's going on. Talk to me."
"Go away, Damon!" He could tell she was crying, but when he tested the handle, it was locked.
Damon released a frustrated sigh. He knew pestering her would only piss her off more, but he was still in the dark as to why she'd felt the need to have a breakdown in the first place. He'd made it perfectly clear within the first week of coming to LA that they were to stay friends and that the kiss should be forgotten. Elena had been completely on board and, in fact, was typically the one to roll her eyes or groan whenever Damon had made some harmless innuendo. So, why would him saying he wasn't attracted to her be so damn offensive?
"Hey, Elena." His voice came out in a defeated tone. "I'm going to go ahead and cook dinner. I'll leave a plate outside your door so that you can still eat without having to come out, but I do think we should talk at some point tonight. Okay?" There was no response on the other side of the door so Damon decided it was best to walk away.
When he got back in the kitchen, he began making what he knew was one of her preferred meals. It was a pretty cheesy method of trying to gain back her favor, but if he'd learned anything over the years of being engaged to Rose it was that the more irrational the female anger, the more irrational the way you had to win her back. Maybe pasta would do the trick.
But apparently fate was not on his side. "Shit," he mumbled as he opened the cabinet. He'd forgotten he'd finished off the last of the olive oil a few days earlier and he would be disgracing his Italian heritage if he tried to make the dish without it. His gaze drifted over to a decorative bottle of olive oil on the top of the cabinetry. It, along with a painting of some unspecified European countryside, was placed in the upper corner.
Regardless of Damon's height, the bottle was definitely out of his reach. His first instinct was to get Elena in there so that he could lift her by the waist and she could grab it, but he suspected she wouldn't be in that helpful of a mood. And after a quick mental inventory, he realized the house had neither a step stool nor a ladder of any size.
Damon's gaze drifted over to the breakfast bar, behind which the stools sat. "Perfect," he muttered, walking over to grab one of the oak fixtures. Damon positioned it in front of the place he'd need to stand and kicked off his shoes. But after climbing up and finding his balance, he groaned. He was about six inches too far from the cabinet.
Experimentally, he reached his hand out to test if he could reach it without having to readjust. He grimaced in his efforts as he leaned over, trying to stay stabilized. But as soon as his fingers skimmed the sides of the glass bottle, he felt the stool wobble and then give out from underneath him. Before he could fully comprehend what had happened, he was on the ground with a searing pain originating from his foot.
"Fuck!" Damon cried out, all of the nerves in his leg on high alarm over the accident. He went to clutch at the lower half of his knee, but the second his hand touched skin, the pain intensified.
Elena was in the kitchen only seconds later. Thankfully, she hadn't been too absorbed in her distress to miss the loud crash his body had made with the tiled floor. "Oh my god, Damon. What happened?"
"I'm a fucking idiot. That's what happened. Holy shit!" He scrunched his eyes together as another jolt rushed through his ankle.
Even with his eyes closed, he sensed a sudden hesitation on Elena's part. "Okay, um… can you hold on one second?"
Damon's eyes shot open, meeting her uneasy expression. "What do you mean 'hold on?' I need to go to the hospital!" It was true. He was starting to see spots and he was having a sneaking suspicion something was broken.
"Damon, just hold on!" She screamed, shooting up from her position and racing out of the kitchen. Damon groaned again, the shock now setting in. The once sharp pain was becoming a dull throb that felt like a different form of hell. But he was quickly distracted from it a few moments later when he heard a flush from the back of the house.
Elena was back in a few moments, a phone in her shaky hands. She looked exorbitantly panicked, but Damon was still pissed off about what he'd overheard.
"Did you seriously just go pee before you helped me?!" He hissed.
Elena was already on the line with 911. "Hello, yes. My friend just fell and broke his foot. It's really bad." She covered the receiver with her hand and turned her attention back to him. "I didn't go pee, Damon. I had to barf."
Her attention went back to the response of the operator as Damon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, his gaze drifting down to where the break was. "What do you mea-?"
But before he could question why she would need to throw up, he was met with a foot at an angle that was about seventy degrees from where it should be. And it was the last thing he saw before he blacked out.
"Do you need anything else?"
Elena had been frantically trying to make him comfortable since they'd gotten home from the hospital a few minutes earlier. Damon hadn't woken up until he was in a bed with doctors surrounding him as they tried to repair what had been broken. The pair hadn't gotten back home until nearly twelve hours later, one now sporting a pretty ugly cast. Elena had placed him on the couch, called his office to let them know he'd have to miss a day thanks to the pain medication, and gotten him some tea he didn't plan on drinking.
"Yeah, some scotch would be fantastic."
Elena frowned, shifting in her stance. "You know you can't mix your meds with alcohol."
"I'm kidding, Elena." Now that her maternal instincts were no longer needed, he noticed that she was falling back into her previous anger with him. She suddenly looked like she'd rather gouge her eyeballs out than stay in the small living room any longer. "Now that I'm literally a broken man, can you at least talk to me about earlier?"
Elena sighed. "There's nothing really to talk about, Damon. You find me completely unattractive. That's all there is to it."
"I didn't say you were unattractive. I said I wasn't attracted to you. What I don't get is why it upset you so much. I thought we agreed at the beginning of all of this that we weren't going to get involved beyond friendship."
"I'm not trying to sleep with you, Damon! I just think it's a little absurd that you're going to say there's not a single part of you that's attracted to me. Am I that repulsive?"
"Come on, Elena. You know you're good-looking."
"Apparently not!"
Damon let out a groan. The idea of lying to salvage their relationship was starting to become less and less tempting. "It's not about how you look. You're my friend. That's the only way I see you."
"You're lying!"
"No, I'm not."
"Really? Then how do you explain the kiss?"
Damon scowled. "I thought we also agreed that we wouldn't put any meaning behind that."
Elena scoffed. "No! We agreed we wouldn't let it affect us. But you can't say you aren't attracted to me even slightly when you chose to make out with me five months ago!"
"I'm telling you, Elena, you're putting way more meaning into that than you should."
Damon could see the wheels slowly start turning in her head. "So, there's nothing I could do to make you find me sexually appealing in any way, shape, or form?"
Now Damon was about five thousand miles away from the truth, but his building frustration with her and stubborn personality refused to let him break. Even if it meant she'd bitch him out and slam the door for a third time, he couldn't care less. He was going to win whatever twisted battle it was that she'd invented. "Nope," he replied, adding an extra layer of disdain to his tone. "Not a damn thing."
"Alright," Elena countered. Then, swiftly, she sauntered up to where he was seated, grabbing the two crutches that were leaned against the couch, and threw them across the room.
Damon balked. "What the hell was that for?"
Elena smirked. "I'd like you to stay right where you are for a little bit."
"It's not impossible for me to get to them. My foot's broken. I'm not paralyzed."
"No, but your doctor told me that if you put even the slightest bit of weight on that foot for the first day or so, you'll start crying like a little girl over how badly it hurts. So let's just say you're stuck."
Damon knew she was right, and his frustration mounted. "Come on, Elena. Stop screwing around."
"You were going to sit on the couch anyways. Quit whining." And with that, Elena turned and headed into her room.
"Elena!" Damon shouted once more, without luck. He let out a groan. He knew how long Elena's grudges could last and he really hoped she'd forgive him before he had to pee or something along those lines. Of course, on top of her punishment, the remote for the television was just out of his reach. As he leaned forward to grab for it, a flash of white in his peripheral suddenly distracted him.
And when he focused his attention on it, he actually couldn't breathe.
Elena was now leaned over the coffee table in the center of the room wearing the bright white string bikini from the lingerie store and nothing else. The same exact one Damon had jokingly offered up for her to try on. After only a few seconds of staring at her, he was half-hard and ready to take back every word he'd said.
"You've got to be kidding me," he groaned.
Elena picked up a magazine, acting as if walking around in a bathing suit was a normal, every day occurrence. "What's wrong?" She asked innocently, settling into the chair on the other side of the room and crossing her legs. She began flipping through the pages haphazardly, barely even sparing him a glance.
Damon was now desperately clinging to his control, not that he had much of a choice. She was a good eight feet away from him. "When did you buy that?" He replied as calmly as he could.
Elena let out an exaggerated sigh. "Well, I went back and bought it as a birthday gift for you, but, since you just told me there's absolutely not a single part of you that's attracted to me, I realize it wouldn't be appreciated." Her head shot up from the pages, a satisfied and smug smirk adorning her features. "I mean it's not like you're suddenly regretting your stubborn clinging to a lie right now or something. You're practically gay when it comes to me, right?"
"Come on, Elena," Damon snapped. "This is really immature." He knew their age difference was a sore issue for her and he hoped it would be enough to make her crack.
"Hmm, being a jackass to prove a point? Well, I guess we have that in common." The sarcasm was dripping from her words.
"Elena," Damon snarled. "Get dressed."
Elena threw the magazine down on the floor and leisurely uncrossed her legs until her knees were about hip-width apart. Now Damon was faced with a near-perfect view of the miniscule piece of fabric covering the most intimate part of her. His nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. "I will… as soon as you admit that you wish you hadn't broken your foot and that you'd much rather be over here, fucking me into the wall."
The sexual tension in the air was so thick, Damon was pretty sure it could snap in half. Fucking Elena into the wall wasn't the first thing he had in mind, but it was definitely on the list. Damon hadn't had sex in almost six months. Not that he'd been incredibly desperate for it. Being dumped after your fiancée cheats on you can put someone in quite the rut. Recently, he'd been considering getting back out there and trying to date for what would really be the first time in his life. But having Elena sitting just out of his reach, taunting him with a body that was barely covered by some flimsy pieces of Lycra, he realized just how long that sexual hiatus had been. And just how badly he wanted it to be over. "No," he hissed.
"You're really going to go with that answer?" Elena countered, standing up.
"Yes." The bulge in his pants at this point had to be visible to her, but he wasn't going to back down until he was left with absolutely no self-control. Plus, a part of him was desperate to rile her up just as much as he was.
"Fine." Elena strolled over to Damon, coming to stand directly in front of his knees. Once she'd gotten there, she leaned forward, bracing her weight on her hands as she deliberately placed them on either side of his head. She'd gone from being completely out of his reach to having her face, and body, only two inches from his own. And Damon realized he knew about twenty different positions that wouldn't require him to put weight on his foot at all. "So this does nothing for you?"
He trained his gaze on her face, refusing to glance at the part of her anatomy so prominently displayed for him. Damon wasn't sure what was keeping his hands at his sides, but whatever it was was nearly gone. A bit of satisfaction flooded through him as he realized she was trembling. Obviously, she wasn't completely unaffected by how close they were. "Not a thing," he growled.
"Sweet Damon." Her voice sounded like honey and her breath was hot on his face, even though the blood rushing through his head was making it hard to concentrate. "You could make this so much easier if you'd just admit defeat."
The logistical side of him kicked in. If he was so damn worried about ruining their relationship with sex, he needed to get her as far away from him as possible given that he was about five seconds away from yanking her forward and ripping that fucking string apart. He'd have to concede. He would lose the battle in an attempt to win the war.
"Fine," he hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm attracted to you…" She didn't seem totally satisfied with his answer, her patient gaze still focused on him. He let out a frustrated exhale. "… Sexually," he finished.
A large grin settled on Elena's face, but she didn't move. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? And nobody's feelings got hurt."
"So, are we done here?" Just because he'd stopped lying didn't mean he wasn't still ready to have her on the hardwood floor.
"Almost," she replied, the smirk on her face becoming devilish. "You have to look at my tits first."
Yeah, if Damon's ridiculous erection wasn't bad enough, now Elena fucking Gilbert, queen of all that was innocent, was talking like a damn sailor. The only word to describe Damon's level of self-control in that moment was miraculous.
"Excuse me?"
"Just for five seconds or so. I mean they're not two inches from your face for no good reason."
Damon's previous determination was too far-gone and he only maintained it for a few seconds before his gaze ran down her slim neck, her exposed collarbone and sternum to the "tits" covered only by a thin white piece of fabric that Damon was pretty sure was see-through.
Damon's mind was nearly overrun with images of yanking her into his lap and fucking her until she couldn't see straight, thoughts he'd never even come close to with Rose, when he felt Elena's fingers pull his chin back up to meet her face. The heat emanating from her fingertips after the severe amount of teasing she'd dealt him was nearly enough to make him come in his pants, but thankfully, he held himself together.
"Good boy," she smiled. "And they said I couldn't be sexy."
Damon was snapped out of his reverie at her words, if only for a moment. "What?"
The previous dominating confidence disappeared as she realized her blunder, but she shook it off. "Nothing." Her expression quickly shifted back to its previous devilish demeanor. "I'm just so glad we settled this. Now, I am going to take a long, hot shower so you can have some alone time." Elena pushed her weight off of the couch and strutted away, her hips swaying with the upmost purpose. "Have fun," she called out, closing and locking the bedroom door behind her.
Damon could barely move, his jaw agape at her words. Did she just…?
Yep, Elena had basically commanded him to jack off to the thought of her.
"Holy fuck."
Did I actually just go there? Yep, I did! ;)
So what did you think? I'm pretty insecure about the writing for this chapter so I apologize if it's not up to it's usual standard. Are we happy with the time jump? As I've stated countless times, writing a filler chapter is like death to me and I knew writing about what happened their first two months would be fairly boring. Having to make you guys wait a week for a dull chapter with little plot development and then having to wait another week just to get the next one would suck. I'd much rather just hop right into the action and do a brief summary of what you would have "missed." But let me know what you think!
What about Damon's struggle with his attraction to Elena? I think it's definitely something that needed to be considered, especially after that intense kiss a few months back and the fact that they're now living in such close proximity. Regardless of whether either want to act on their feelings, the feelings needed to be addressed and I tried to do that in this chapter... just in a way that was the slightest bit sexier than "the talk."
Speaking of which, how'd you like Elena's little show? ;) I loved writing her in this scene. I know it might seem super out of character for sweet innocent Elena, but I think with what that jerk at the audition said to her, she'd have a lot of motivation to break out of her shell. She's stubborn and wanted to win the fight against Damon. Why not make it a game? For those of you that would say she shouldn't know how to be this forward, remember that she spent a good portion of her teenage years watching "real world" movies and television shows, some of which would more than likely contain sexual content. She's not completely oblivious. I also tried to make it clear that she wasn't totally comfortable and when she's faced with the real thing in the future, she's not going to be so self-assured.
I think that's it besides Alaric (yay!) and the introduction of Damon's new job. I'd love to hear your thoughts on those two things as well :)
Alright, well I desperately need to sleep, but I just really wanted to get this chapter up as early as possible. Again, I apologize for my crappy writing this time around. I hate to think I ruined such a big chapter because of a bad week. Please leave your reviews regardless because I love to hear from you and I really enjoy responding to them as well.
Love you guys tons. Update in a week!