A/N: YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST! I'm so excited that you all loved Damon's backstory, and are we ready for some Delena cuteness? Then let's do it!

All my gushy adoration and appreciation to Trogdor19, for filling my life with fantastic beta comments and chapters of her amazing stories and for being my personal cheerleader and for stacks of emails that all seem to contain the word pie. Fuzzy, leprechaun green colored socks that have meringue either in or on them, whichever you prefer. But may meringue be involved. :)

Chapter 10: Favorite Favor

I can't believe I'm about to do this, but fuck it.

Here goes nothing.

I knock twice, and wait.

And wait.

God, this is gonna be so—

"Damon?" Caroline says confused when she answers the door, and I smile.

I really don't blame her for being suspicious. It's barely nine in the morning and the last time I showed up unexpectedly, I left Elena in tears. And I have no idea how much Elena's been sharing with her bestie about her after-work activities, but the fact that Caroline's not already screaming at me on her friend's behalf leads me to believe there may have been a girl talk confession or two that are tilting in my favor.

"Good morning," I drawl and she grins hesitantly, crossing her arms over her camisole.

I'd bet that bottle of Pappy Van Winkle I haven't cracked the seal on that Caroline is about ten steps past uncomfortable with me seeing her in pajama pants and no makeup, her normally perfect hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. The whole look is a stark change from what I'm used to with her, not that it's bad. She actually looks a lot better without all that crap caked on her eyes, but even so she's barely registering on my radar.

"So," I say and clear my throat, leaning against the doorway. "To jump straight to awkward, is Elena up?"

Caroline huffs a quick laugh, her smile promising a complete lack of jealousy or anything resembling it, and I could totally hug her for that. "Not yet," she tells me sweetly. "She usually sleeps in on Sundays. I can go get her..."

"Actually, if you don't mind, I'll just…" I trail off and slip by Caroline, heading right to Elena's room.

"Damon," she warns with a mischievous grin in her voice, "she's gonna kill you."

"We'll see," I wink at Caroline, rapping my knuckles once on Elena's bedroom door.

"Sleeping, Care," I hear Elena grumble from inside.

"Man on the floor!" I call out and open the door, only sparing half a glance at Elena snuggled in bed under an ultra-fluffy white down comforter before I head to her closet.

"Jesus Christ, Damon! Get out!" she shrieks and I grin, opening her closet door.

I snort when I see it's completely OCD, unlike the rest of her room that is stuffed with way too much furniture for the small space, and all of it overflowing with books and pictures and plants and random, girly shit. But her clothes are arranged precisely by color from light to dark, separated starkly between casual t-shirts and the stuff she wears to work. Freak.

"Caroline!" she yells and I flinch, but keep my back to her, cocking an eyebrow at the eight thousand pairs of shoes all jumbled in a mess on the floor, but her purses are hanging up by order of size. Total whack job. "You let him in here?"

"He just kinda…" Caroline trails off and I turn my head to find her leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and looking incredibly amused.

"You gonna help me, Blondie?" I ask her. "She needs shorts or capris or something like that," I mutter and keep looking through her shirts until I find a couple of different options that would work, hearing Caroline cross the room behind me before she starts pulling out some dresser drawers and rifling through them.

"You! Don't help him!" Elena screeches at Caroline. "And get out of my closet!"

I roll my eyes, pivoting to see her sitting up in bed, her covers clutched to her chest even though I can clearly tell she's wearing a t-shirt. Jesus, it's not like she's naked.

"Stop being so lazy, we're late," I tell her, tossing onto her bed the couple of shirts I grabbed. "Hair in a ponytail, don't bother with makeup because it's hot today and you're gonna sweat it off anyways. Although feel free to brush your teeth." I smile and she glowers at me. "Get up, get dressed, grab some comfortable walking shoes if you can find some, and let's go."

"I'm not going-"

"Chop chop!" I say and clap my hands twice, strolling out of her bedroom.

"Damon!" she shrieks again and I hear Caroline say something to her that I can't make out before she comes out of Elena's bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

"Well," Caroline says dramatically, heading into the kitchen. "That was certainly an interesting way to start our morning."

I snort and follow her, stealing a slice of bacon from her plate on the counter. She smacks my hand and I smirk at her, but then she arches an eyebrow over those baby blues and I roll my eyes.

"Say it," I tell her and she crosses her arms, shaking her messy blond head at me with a smile.

"How many espressos did you have this morning? Because you are like…"

"What?"

"I don't know, extra to the point today."

I shrug. "So let's get to the point."

"Elena's my best friend," she tells me quietly. "And you're a lot of fun…"

"Back at ya," I wink.

"But if you guys are going to be friends, which is fine because Elena needs to have some fun, I just can't…"

"I know," I nod and grab her slice of toast from her plate. "We good?" I ask and take a bite, grimacing at how dry it is. Damn these girls and their health obsession. I don't understand how they'll eat bacon but not butter. Insanity.

"Not if you keep eating my food," she growls playfully and steals her toast back. "Just, be nice to her," she adds in a whisper.

"I'm always nice," I say offended, and she stares at me. "Really?"

"No, you're nice, just-"

"I know, I know," I mumble. "Besties unite!" I say and fistpump. "Or bad things happen to the penis."

"Seriously, what did you have today?" she laughs. "Because I want some."

I snort. "Like you need the extra energy boost," I tell her and bump her hip with mine.

"As if you do!" she teases and I chuckle.

I cross my arms and lean back against the counter, smiling down at her as she cocks an attitude up at me.

"Take care of yourself, Caroline," I tell her quietly, and she blushes.

"You too, Damon."

"Damon!" Elena yells, slamming her bedroom door and both Caroline and I turn to face her as she stomps into the kitchen.

But her hair is in a ponytail, no makeup in sight and she's wearing khaki shorts and one of the polo shirts I picked out for her. I almost want to fistpump again, until she starts pointing at me threateningly.

"If you ever, ever, come barging into my bedroom again I will call the cops on you. Do you understand me?"

"Sure," I say quickly. "Caroline? Her purse or whatever else she needs."

"I'm not going anywhere," Elena snaps at me, but she still takes her purse from a giggling Caroline. "And I could have had plans today."

"Your sappy-movie-and-romance-novel itinerary can be bumped for next weekend," I tell her, and Caroline bursts out in laughter.

"Oh my God, how did you know that?"

"Caroline!" Elena bursts out while looking completely mortified, and I hold out my hand beside me, palm up, and Caroline gives me a lateral high-five.

"You can yell at me in the car, we're late," I tell Elena and gently lead her by the elbow to the front door.

"Have fun!" Caroline calls out as I shut the door.

Elena huffs and stomps her whole way down the stairs, not sparing me a glance when I open the passenger side door for her. She gets in and throws her purse on the floorboard, clicking her seatbelt on.

"If I die in a car wreck, I'm suing you," she grumbles when I get in, and I reach into the backseat.

"Good luck with that," I scoff and hand her the Tupperware container with the slice of coffee cake in it that I scored off my mom this morning. I fling a disposable fork wrapped in plastic at her, pointedly ignoring her stunned expression as I hand her the travel mug. "Don't spill coffee in my car or you're cleaning it."

I start the car and pull out onto the street, and out of my peripheral vision I can tell she's still just staring at me.

"What?" I ask and she shakes her head.

"What is all this?" she whispers.

"Sustenance," I tell her, flashing a smile. "You're gonna need it."

"Where are we going?" she asks curiously, the majority of ire gone from her voice and I can barely contain my laugh.

Mom's coffee cake does the trick every single time, and Elena hasn't even tasted it yet. That recipe could probably be passed out during the next World War and it would be Hippie Love Fest in twenty minutes.

Bonus point: no meat in brown sugar, sour cream or cinnamon, and whatever else she puts in it that makes it better than anything else on this planet, so it is safe for Elena's consumption.

"You're really doing me a favor more than anything," I shrug, watching out of the corner of my eye as her lips perk up into an almost smile.

Do-gooder.

I reach over and pop the top off the Tupperware, stealing a chunk of coffee cake and popping it in my mouth. I moan and hit the base of my fist against the steering wheel in ample appreciation before shifting gears because damn, that woman can bake. It's amazing I'm not three hundred pounds.

Elena sighs at me for using my fingers, opening the plastic fork wrapper and taking a bite. And immediately moaning in a way that I so want to hear again.

"Coffee," I mumble around a full mouth and she hands me the mug.

"What's the favor?" she asks as I take a sip, passing it back to her so I can shift gears again.

I slow down and stop for a red light and nod towards the backseat, and when she peeks over her shoulder and spies both sets of golf clubs, her mouth gapes. She whips towards me, looking all sorts of surprised and nervous and a tiny bit excited, and I grin and flare my eyes at her.

"You're going to play golf with me."

Elena gets in the car and slams the passenger door, and I wince, righting my seat after putting the clubs in the back.

"Slam the doors on your own car," I tell her when I sit down and close the driver's side door, gently.

"Sorry."

I sigh and turn towards her, taking in her crossed arms and pouted lips. "Alright," I say and wave a hand towards myself, "let's hear it."

"No."

I cock an eyebrow at her and her eyes dart to me, and then she huffs and faces me completely. "It's not fair!"

"Uh-huh," I reply and try to keep from laughing.

"I'm serious! The last hole, the last freaking hole and the ball goes right towards the cup, and then it just stops! Like, a fraction of an inch from going in, and just…ugh!"

"I was there," I tell her and she wrinkles her nose at me.

"There's no need to be so cocky, just because you're like the 'golf wizard,'" she mumbles and I snicker.

"Pretty sure I left my wizard powers at home. My score can back me on that."

She bites her lip. "I didn't think you were ever going to get out of that bunker," she whispers.

"There's no need to remind me," I snap playfully, fully successful in getting a smile out of her.

"Or when you lost two balls in the water on the 12th…"

"Elena," I warn and she laughs softly.

"Oh! And let's not forget-"

"You ready to go?" I interrupt and she leans her head against the headrest, fully beaming at me before she looks out the window.

I take in the sight for a minute before pulling out my car keys and putting them in the ignition.

Today was awesome.

Elena has taken to my favorite sport like a fat kid at a buffet. Overall she did really, really well, the weather was great and she totally loved being out there, and my hideous score is a tribute to how much fun it was watching her jump from being overly ecstatic to completely frustrated and then back again. She only griped at me once about my temper when I lost my shit over being buried in a bunker that took me three shots to get out of, and the rest of the time she teased and taunted me, making absurd bets with imaginary pickles.

She listened attentively when I showed her how to read the groove of the green, to look for the curves and bends in the grass, trusting my suggestions in how she should best strategize each hole and what club she should use and how. We talked history and technique, the nuances in the swings of professional players and who my favorite golfers were and why, and she was weirdly fascinated by the overabundance of ridiculous rules and the fact that only recently, women have been allowed to play.

She got super offended when she asked what female golfers I considered to be badasses and I made my opinion on the LPGA more than clear, but I got back in her good graces when I paused our game for twenty minutes so I could YouTube some videos on my phone of female players who I consider to be halfway decent, and Elena has some brand new heroes.

It took us an extended six hours to play all 18 holes, and I probably bored the shit out of her yammering on and on and on, but she never let it show. She just kept asking me questions, and it made it a lot easier to forget that it should've been weirder to have someone next to me on the fairways. Because I haven't played golf with anyone else since Devon died.

"Here," I tell her, pulling the scorecard out of my back pocket and handing it her. "To commemorate your first official round."

It's the standard postcard-sized piece of paper, a picture of the clubhouse and the name of the course on the front, and on the back are the traditional columns that display a small layout of each hole and their distance and par rating. And penciled in underneath in my boxy, serial killer handwriting, are our names and respective shot count.

She takes it with a shy smile, and a softly uttered, "Thank you."

"You are very welcome," I smile back and turn on my cell phone while she tucks the scorecard into her purse.

One text from my buddy Mason, and two missed calls from my mom because she's crazy. I text her that I just got finished and I'll call her tomorrow, and I catch Elena peeking at me and then looking out her window.

Right.

I grin and toss the phone onto her lap, the screen unlocked and showing an open text to my mom, and when she sees it she tries to hide her blush by tucking a loose hair behind her ear.

Real convincing, Elena.

I chuckle and start the car, and she jumps.

"Oh," she says startled. "She's calling you," she tells me and hands me the phone.

I answer it and put it on speaker. "I texted you for a reason…"

"If I wanted to type, I would get on a chatroom," my mom says and I roll my eyes at a grinning Elena.

"First, you don't need to be in chatrooms, if they even exist anymore. And second, bye."

"Wait! How did your game go? Did you have fun with your friend? And why do you sound like you're at a monster truck show?"

"Fine, yes, and because you're on speaker. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Why am I on speaker? That's so impersonal…" she whines and Elena covers her mouth with her hands to hide her laugh. "Hold on. Damon, you're not driving, are you? I don't like it when you drive and talk on the phone in that death-trap car of yours. It's dangerous."

"I'm not driving. I'm sitting in the parking lot, waiting for you to get off the phone."

"Oh, good, 'cause I need to talk to you for just a minute. If you can spare a moment for your old decrepit mother."

Jesus Christ. At least Elena seems to be getting a kick out of this.

"What?" I snap.

"I'm making my weekly shopping list and next Sunday did you want mashed potatoes and green beans with the meatloaf, or corn and macaroni and cheese?"

"Seriously?" I ask, completely mortified. "I don't care. And I don't have time for this."

"Oh, and what pie was it that you wanted? I can't remember if it was the Apple-Blackberry or the Apple-Blueberry?"

"I…don't…care," I say slowly and Elena smacks my arm. "Look, Mom, I gotta go."

"What is the big hurry?" she says, and then a light bulb must go off somewhere because suddenly she whispers, "Is your friend with you?"

"Yes, and she can hear you so there's no need to whisper. Speaker phone, remember?"

"Oh!" she squeaks. "Damon, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your date…"

"Mom!"

"Bye, baby. I love you, and be a gentlemen and don't drive too fast and wear your seatbelt and I was gonna say something else…" she trails off and I hover my finger over the 'end' button.

"Bye," I say forcefully.

"Bye! Bye Damon's date!"

I end the call, wondering how fast I can get my hands on a lethal weapon.

Maybe I can get Elena to beat me to death with a golf club because oh my God.

"So, can we pretend that didn't just happen?" I say to Elena, who is desperately clasping her hands over her mouth.

She pulls them away with a beaming, "Sure."

"Okay. So Option A, I take you home and you bury your nose in a trashy book like all the other cougars," I tell her and she shoves at my shoulder. "Option B, we can go to the lake and hang out with some friends, drink some beer, raise a little hell."

"Sounds like fun," she smiles and I nod once, starting to back out of the parking lot. "So…" Oh fuck, here it comes. "You live with your mom?"

I slam on the brake. "No," I growl at Elena and her eyes widen. "I do not live with her."

"Okay, sheesh," she says quietly, an amused smile on her face. I continue getting us out of the parking lot, and she shrugs one shoulder. "She sounded nice."

"We need to get your hearing checked," I mumble. "All I heard was nag nag nag. Damon," I say mockingly, "stand up straight. Sell your car. Watch your language. Get married."

"Oh, wow," Elena laughs.

"She's been trying to get me hitched since the moment I hit puberty, I don't know what her problem is," I grumble. "Actually, I take that back. I know what her damn problem is, I just can't do jack shit about it."

"Seems like you guys are close," Elena says softly, and I shrug.

"She's…she's had a tough run," I say and swallow, checking my rearview mirror before I merge onto the highway that will get us to the abandoned boat dock at the lake. "I see her when I can, until she drives me insane. Which is pretty much constantly."

"Where's your dad?"

I glance at Elena and grin. "I don't think she even knew his name."

She gasps.

"Who says nothing good ever comes from having a one-night stand?" I say and wink at her, and she looks flabbergasted.

"Are you joking right now? Because I can't tell…"

"Not joking," I tell her truthfully. "It's just the two of us."

"Oh," she says softly, something a little sad and a little sweet playing around the corners of her mouth.

"Let me guess. Daddy's a priest?" I tease and she perks right back up.

"Not quite," she smiles.

"Don't tell me he's a cop…" Because yeah, that would be awesome. Not that it matters. But just…yeah.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she grins and bites her lip.

"Try me."

"He's a retired Ranger," she says and leans her head back against the headrest, looking quite comfortable. And smug to boot.

"Please tell me you mean he was a pitcher or a second baseman for the baseball team," I plead and she shakes her head slowly. "He's seriously a Ranger? Like, DPS super cop, star-in-the-badge while carrying a loaded gun, Texas Ranger Ranger?"

"Yep, badge and gun and everything."

"That explains a lot," I mumble and she laughs lightly. "Mom a Sunday School teacher?"

"On the weekends," she smiles at me and I shake my head. "She's a botanist, they have a nursery in Pflugerville. But my brother mostly manages it now because my parents just moved out to Wimberly."

"Why does none of this surprise me?" I chuckle. "There's actually a really nice golf course in Wimberly that I've been to a couple of times," I tell her. "You should take Papa Ranger sometime and show him what a badass his daughter is."

"Thanks, I'll check it out," she says and I nod once. "Damon…" she starts, sounding incredibly nervous and uncomfortable, and why did my mom have to use that fucking word? "Is this a date?"

I smile at her casually. "Is there an answer to this question that doesn't land me in a world of trouble?"

She blushes, looking almost relieved. "Okay," she nods. "But just so you know, if it was…" I glance at her and she bites her lip. I kinda love it when she does that. "It'd be a nice one."

I feel myself smile and I look back to the road. "Good to know."

"Though maybe next time, you just tell me beforehand and not barge into my bedroom at an ungodly hour."

I laugh. "No promises," I grin and she shakes her head at me. "Oh, come on, you know you forgive me."

"Barely," she teases. "The coffee cake was your saving grace."

"I'm not sure why you always think I don't know what I'm doing."

"It's not that I think you don't know," she says and I peek at her. "It's just that I don't know why you're doing it in the first place."

I clear my throat because yeah, I don't either and right now I'm choosing not to dwell on it for any extended basis. "That sounds a little complicated," I whisper playfully, and she nods.

"My point exactly."

I shift in my seat, gunning the engine more than necessary.

We stay quiet the rest of the drive to the lake, my head swimming with her voice asking the dozens of questions that we aren't voicing. And I have no idea how we got to this point so damn quick, but I'm pretty sure my name is the one written under Responsible Party.

I mean, I've never spent time with a girl like this before, besides maybe Jenna but she doesn't count. My normal protocol is to treat them like creatures that are only awake at night, and during the daylight they disappear into caves that I do not enter because the air becomes poisonous. I don't care about listening to them debate the fabric for curtains and what dishwashing soap is better for their hands and how often to conditioner their hair and when to start using anti-wrinkle cream. But Elena and I don't talk about that stuff.

We talk about real things. Like arguing over whether fist-bumps are cooler than high-fives, if Marlon Brando was sexier than James Dean and what moves are acceptable when constructing your personalized victory dance. We make bets with imaginary pickles.

She's still prissy about language and manners because that's just her, and I think she would probably die if she wasn't nit-picking at something I'm doing that she doesn't approve of. But that's only because I'm comfortable enough around her to be my true asshole self instead of putting on the full-fledged Seduction Show. Which is weird.

Because for some reason, I don't only want to get her into bed. Don't get me wrong, I want her. She's crazy sexy and her long tan legs stretching out in my passenger seat can attest to that, but she's also fun and I liked playing golf with her today. I liked working out with her, and I'm really interested to see how she's going to handle Mason and the gang of misfits I'm about to throw her into.

And that's another thing: I don't take chicks to meet my friends. Ever. They are two separate worlds and I don't mix them because the girls I sleep with very well may be screwing my buddies without ever realizing that we all know each other. We circulate the same bars, and we run the same game. I don't care about crossovers, and neither do they because we all know it's probably happening. But it's just easier for everyone not to take the risk of mixing nightlife with the rest of your normal existence because my friends come first, and I don't need some girl looking at my buddy and giving him a smile that makes me wonder exactly how long ago she was with him, and whether he was better than I was.

Yeah, just no.

But Elena is safe from that stuff, so I took a chance. Although bringing her is like painting a big target on my back for my friends to fuck with me, which they're going to do by flirting with her just to see if they can get me flip out and go all caveman possessive. Because bringing a girl to these things is also the unspoken international warning that if they do come across her somewhere else, to stay the fuck away.

Though that's not why I invited her. I'm not claiming her as mine because we're not dating and she's welcome to do whatever she wants. I just thought she'd have a good time and I was going anyways and I'm just trying to brighten the girl's life up a little and…

Fine. I don't want her sleeping with my friends. There, I said it.

I pull off the gravel driveway that leads down to the old boat ramp, parking in the grass and shutting off the car. The sun is just setting and they're getting a bonfire started by the edge of the lake, most of them probably already a six-pack in and hands are steadily diving into the two big coolers that I know are packed with beer and just enough ice to keep them cold.

Elena chuckles at the sight, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Why do I feel like I'm in high school again?"

"Because they never matured past the age of fifteen," I tell her and she laughs quietly. "Alright, fair warning…"

"Is like the first missed swing thing?"

"Sure." I nod, then blow out a breath. "These are good guys and I've known them forever."

"Okay," she says hesitantly.

"And every single one of them is going to hit on you like you're the only women left on earth."

She bursts out laughing. "No wonder you get along so well."

"I don't hit on you that much," I protest teasingly, and she cocks an eyebrow at me. "What? I said 'that much,' not that I don't."

"Uh-huh," she smiles. "So, why are your friends going to hit on me again?"

"I could give you a long ego-boosting list of reasons, or you could just trust me."

She blushes and bites her lip, looking down at her hands in her lap, and I chuckle and open the door, getting out of the car.

She gets out and walks around the hood to meet me, her hands fidgeting nervously.

"It's gonna be fine," I tell her quietly, and she nods a little. "Come on," I tell her and grab her hand, keeping her beside me as we walk towards the group. Her other hand curls around my bicep as we get closer and I shift our grip, threading our fingers together.

"My, oh my, is it my birthday already?" Mason calls out dramatically when he spies me, grabbing a couple of beers from the cooler and heading our way.

"You ready?" I breathe down to Elena and she squares her shoulders, squeezing my hand.

"Yep."

A/N: Are we having feels yet? Because I know two fictional people are, and their feels are gonna get bumped up a notch in the next chapter ;) Which means make sure you guys are following, because we are officially heading into my favorite stretch of chapters. Oh, that reminds me, this story will cap at the 22 chapter mark, just so you know where we are in the overall scheme of things. Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter, (how much do I love Damon's mom? Way too frickin much, I swear I may end up writing that woman her own damn book) and see you guys next chapter!

-Goldnox