"Well, fuck," was the first thing that came to Elena's mind as soon as the raindrops started falling, followed by "maybe it won't be that bad." As if in answer to her thoughts, the heavens truly opened up, surrounding her in a curtain of rain. She ran for cover under an awning, but the rain already soaked her from head to toe. In the few minutes she stood there, scrambling to order a taxi or an Uber, a steady deluge of water swirled past her feet. She inched away from the current lapping at her pumps, as if it could bite. Even under the protection of the awning, rain splashed on her phone screen as she watched the wait time for her driver increase from three minutes to twenty-three. Twenty-five. Thirty-two. Looks as if she's not going to be on time for dinner after all. She shivered.

Resigned to her fate, Elena considered her options: there weren't many. She was 15 blocks away from her hotel, so going back to change was out of the question. Although the restaurant where all the conference speakers were supposed to meet for dinner was only a few blocks away, at present, she looked more akin to a drowned city rat than the professional doctor-to-be everyone expected to see when she showed up. She was stuck. Calls to her colleagues weren't going through, either. Cell service was suddenly non-existent. Borrowing wifi from a place called "Bob's," she composed a text to let the others from her lab know she was going to be late. As she hit send, a burst of wind sent another round of chills rippling through her body. It was time to find refuge inside. She squinted to try to see through the white sheets of rain. She spotted a blinking neon sign, unsure if it was a "U" or an "O" with part of it burnt out. It seemed "Bub's" was her best bet.

If nothing else, at least they had wifi.

Elena glanced left and right, leaned forward like a sprinter, then darted across the street to "Bob's." She hurtled herself up a few crumbly stairs and yanked open the door. She stepped inside and stood in the doorway as her eyes adjusted to the light. Elena smelled stale beer and cigarettes, grease from a fryer that had worked too long. All of it tinged with the faint odor of stress-sweat from failed pick-up attempts and nail-biter game finishes.

Silent TV screens in bright crisp HD-light showed sports games, one above the bar and one in each corner. On the walls, sports paraphernalia and bar signs. Neon lights danced to their own beat from a sticky looking dance floor—completely out of place for so early in the evening, she thought.

The light from the screens and signs illuminated the other patrons. It was clear to her that she was not the only person here who got caught out in the rain. A handful of folks were settling into tables, wringing out hair and clothes. Servers in a fast shuffle brought them some white, fluffy towels, which appeared to be the cleanest things in the place.

Elena sank. Not only did the weight of her drenched clothes pull her down, but the fact that, despite that she was in a city with some of the best food and drink the world has to offer, she was in one of the grimiest student sports bars she had ever laid eyes on.

The bar keep pulled the lever for a draft into a tipped beer mug. Without looking up he said, "Staying or going?"

In that pause, she realized her awkwardness and let the door close behind her with a bang. Some of the other patrons looked her way, before quickly turning back to face the screens. The rain seemed to be a boon for business, judging from the ratio of customers sporting dry clothes to not. Pretty quiet night for a Thursday in the city that never sleeps.

"Staying," she said, as she slid into a seat at the bar. The server plopped the beer on a tray and scurried off with it.

She noticed the music, American Blues, it seemed ok. It didn't quite jive with the rest of the vibe, but at present, it was the place's only redeeming quality.

Elena's phone rang. She plopped her wet hand bag on the table, and yanked out her phone. A video call from Caroline Forbes.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY INCREDIBLE BEST FRIEND! How are you? How is the conference? What have you done to celebrate yourself today? Have you had any time to do any shopping?" Caroline said in quick succession, smiling. "Remind me again why you had to go to this thing instead of staying home and partying with me? And what are you bringing me back as a souvenir?"

Elena goodnaturedly rolled her eyes at the onslaught of questions. Caroline can be a lot to take, but she always meant well and was nothing if not extremely curious. "Ha thanks for calling, Care," Elena said. "Ughhh, as far as birthdays go, things could be a lot better. It was beautiful out, so I decided to walk to the speaker's dinner, and out of nowhere, I got caught in a massive rain storm. I even checked the forecast before leaving to be sure, and it only said there was a 6% chance of rain!"

Caroline pursed her lips. "Didn't I tell you, that the percentage of rain in a forecast means the percentage of the city that will get rain, not the likelihood of whether or not it will rain?"

"Caroline?"

"Yeah?"

"It is infuriating that you know this."

Caroline harrumphed. She said, "Well, don't blame me for your bad luck and bad decision to go away by yourself on your birthday. You know you would have had so much more fun letting me throw you a surprise party."

Some bros in the corner cheered loudly, drawing Elena's attention away from her phone.

Elena was used to Caroline needling her. She sensed a hint of hurt feelings. It was true, but it wasn't as if it was Elena's idea of a good time to make small talk with doctors at a conference, striving to advocate for her research, sniffing out potential funding sources—certainly not more than celebrating with friends she never saw enough as it was. Her odd hours as a resident and extra time in the research lab meant she didn't have much time for socializing. Hadn't for years.

Elena turned back to her friend. "When I'm in charge of planning the schedule for the most important conference for children's rare diseases, I'll make sure it never falls on or around the twenty-second of June," Elena said and smiled. "Then you can surprise me for my birthday anytime you want." Elena hoped her joking conveyed her gratitude for her friend's continued love and support, even though Elena hardly had the energy to offer a fraction of it to Caroline in return.

The server pulled the tab on the draught, filling more beers. Elena noticed him staring at her. "Wait, hold on one sec," Elena said to Caroline on the phone. Not wanting to be a jerk, Elena put her phone down.

"I'm Kyle," he said, before looking back down at the filling mugs. "What can I get for you?" In well practiced motions, Kyle knocked the lever for the draft, tipped foam out of the mug into the well, grabbed and flipped a glass, filled it with the water gun, and placed it before her on the bar. He reached over, clenched a white towel and flopped it beside the water. Elena received it all with gratitude.

Dabbing her face with the towel, Elena said, "Ummmm, do you happen to have any Champagne?"

"If you mean 'the Champagne of Beers' then yes, I have Miller High Life," Kyle said, filling more beers and cups, glancing at her between motions. "Other than that, sparkling wine isn't really our thing." Kyle made eye contact with Elena and smirked.

Elena leaned back and said, "Miller it is, then." She picked up her phone and sighed. "You'll never guess where I landed, seeking shelter from the storm."

"From the Bob Dylan I hear in the background, I take it it's not Bloomingdales?" Caroline asked. She was a prodigious shopper. Elena was not. "At least if you are going to miss dinner, that would have been productive." Caroline lifted her eyebrows.

"I'm not going to miss dinner. It's too important. I'm sure the rain will calm down soon, and I'll be able to get on my way. Anyway, anywhere else would have been better than 'Bob's,'" Elena said, with extra emphasis on "Bob's." "Can you believe out of any name you could choose, someone would name a bar after perhaps the most boring name known to humanity?"

Elena is once again drawn out of her conversation, this time by a snicker from across the bar. She turns her head to find the source of the sound and locks eyes with the most beautiful man she has ever seen. Taking him in, Elena unconsciously licks her lips. He has tousled black hair, stormy blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw, with the barest hint of stubble. Somehow looking overdressed in a mere black button-up and jeans, the fit of his clothes hints at a well-sculpted body underneath. Ruining the entire picture is an overconfident smirk plastered across the man's face, which deepens as he raises an eyebrow. A challenge to her blatant stare. This shakes her out of her stupor. A deep blush creeps across her cheeks, until she realizes that she wasn't the one eavesdropping on a stranger's phone call, and a flash of anger replaces her embarrassment. She shoots him a look that says, "Do you mind?" and turns her attention back to her phone.

"Uh, sorry, what was that?" During all this, Caroline continued with recommendations for sights and stores Elena should visit before heading home.

"I was just saying that once you escape Bob's, you should skip that stodgy dinner and go treat yourself to something special. You work so hard, Elena, you never do anything for yourself. You're in New York City for god's sake. The place where anything is possible. Who knows, maybe you'll meet someone special who could convince you to take a step out of the lab every once in a while."

Caroline is always pushing Elena to date. "A long distance relationship wouldn't exactly be the solution to that, Caroline. I'm only here for the weekend, remember?" Elena always pushes back.

Without looking at her, Kyle the bar man jerks a beer mat in front of Elena and sets a yellowish, very frothy looking beer on it. Elena takes this as her cue to cut this line of conversation short. "Listen Caroline, I love you, thanks for calling. I'm going to check the weather app and see how long I am likely to be holed up here before I can get back to my regularly scheduled programming."

Only after a healthy dose of assurances to Caroline that Elena will, indeed, do something to celebrate grandly while she's away in the big city, does the phone call end. Elena is sure she can make something up to tell Caroline by the time she gets home. This conference has a grueling schedule and offers no extra time for sight-seeing, but what Caroline doesn't know can't hurt her.

Elena opens up her phone again and can't help but release a frustrated groan at seeing the prediction that the rain will be going strong for at least another 45 minutes. A quick mental calculation… she'd be lucky to make it before dessert. Great. Dr. Cohen is supposed to be there.

Trying to take her mind off of the potential funding she is missing out on, Elena opens up her socials. She scrolls through the well-wishes, a faint smile on her face, when a post from her brother Jeremy catches her eye: a collection of pictures of her and them together; two smiling brunettes in various situations from the past year. She swipes to the last picture, and her breath catches. Herself at six years old, hair scruffy, sitting in her mother's lap, looking up at her mom and sticking out her tongue. Her mom is mid-laugh, and her dad is bending down, surrounding them in his embrace, a big smile on his face. One of her favorite photos.

"Wishing my amazing sister the happiest of birthdays. They would be so proud of you," reads the caption.

Ten years. It's gotten easier, but losing them in a car accident that almost took her as well is an event never far from her mind. Her life is a testament to their memories, her dad being a doctor and her mom instilling in her a call to serve, to help those that need it more than you. She thinks of them when she puts in long hours at the hospital, when she misses yet another milestone celebration for a friend, when she drinks her coffee in the morning. The raw pain having long faded into a constant dull ache, except for moments like these. Tears well up in Elena's eyes, as a well-worn train of thought starts to spin up—if only she hadn't called…

"You know, there's a two shot penalty for crying at Bob's," Handsome Smirk has made his way across the bar, taking the seat beside her.

Elena sharply turns to look at him, anger boiling up in her anew. "You can fu-"

Before she can get any further in her insult, the bros in the back in disagreement with the ref's last call have taken it upon themselves to duke it out in honor of their respective sports teams. What started out as a perceived slight to one bro's intelligence, "Do you even have eyes?", has taken on a life of its own. The other responded with a low blow, "Eyes enough to see how your girl can't get enough of me." Never mind Girl in question isn't actually there. Didn't matter. Weeks of unresolved tension and several beers between them boiled over when bro #1 tackles bro #2. Fisticuffs ensue. Bros 3 through 5 have no skin in the game, but are hungry for something to do and now pumping with testosterone, decide to pile on.

Elena's eyes widen as Bro 7 grabs one of the painted wooden signs from the wall that reads "Cheers to good times and good friends" and is about to smack it over Bro 4's head, when Handsome Smirk appears behind him and wraps Bro 7 in a half nelson. At this point, the staff are in full triage mode, attempting to clean up both the fight and the broken glass. The brawl has nearly calmed down, but not before Bro 2, truly the responsible party here, came in with a roundhouse kick meant for Bro 1 that never quite lands thanks to all the beer. He topples over into bro 7, and Smirk, sending all three sprawling to the ground. At this, the bros break out laughing, and settle back into watching the game.

Smirk, however, is no longer smirking. He winces as he looks down at his forearm. A shard of glass winks back at him, blood oozing out around the cut. He curses and starts to make his way towards the bathroom when a very determined Elena intercepts him.

"You need me to look at that for you."

He brushes her off. "I'm fine, thanks." He takes a step around her.

Elena grabs him by the shirt, "There are a lot of important veins there, you need to be sure one of them wasn't lacerated."

"I'll google it."

"I'm serious."

He stares at her dumbfounded, and says, "What are you, a doctor?"

"Yes," Elena says. "Now, come on." Elena drags him by his good arm back to the bar. An amused Kyle looks at her expectantly. What is it with these people? Didn't they see this was serious? "I need your first aid kit, and stat," she demands. Kyle behind the bar scurries into the kitchen. Elena is not optimistic about the quality of the medical supplies to begin with, if the rest of the place was anything to go on. While waiting for Kyle to return, she inspects her patient's cut. It's deep, but luckily nowhere near anything life threatening.

"This is going to need stitches," Elena says, looking back up at him.

"I'm sure it will heal just fine," Smirk says, her patient rolling his eyes, in obvious pain, but not wanting her to catch on. Too bad for him, she's seen enough to know better.

"Listen to me, uh.. what's your name?"

"Damon."

"Damon, you need to trust me on this. If you don't get stitches, it will heal, but it won't be fine. You'll have a gnarly scar and be at greater risk of infection."

"So what, are you going to stitch me up right here?"

"I understand your resistance," Elena says. "This is not the most hygienic of surroundings, but I'm assuming even Bob's Bar can muster up a needle and thread. The nearest hospital…"

"Bob's," interrupts Damon.

"...is fifty blocks away in pouring rain, no cabs to be had, ambulances maxed out, ER wait times…"

"Bob's," Damon says again.

"What?" snaps an incredulous Elena.

"The name of the bar is just Bob's," Damon says calmly and slowly. "Not 'Bob's Bar.'"

Elena closes her eyes in exasperation, and takes a deep breath through her nose to regain composure. Looking Damon straight in the eyes, she asks "Are we doing this or what?"

Damon stares back, jaw tight with pain and frustration at these new circumstances. He would do it himself, but the cut was on his right arm and he isn't as ambidextrous as he would like. Certainly not for something like this. This is going to hurt.

Seeing Damon's resistance, Elena tries again. "Besides, your forearm is too pretty to have such an ugly scar," Elena prods with a smirk of her own.

"That's a low blow…what's your name?"

"Elena."

"All right then, Elena." Damon repeats, in a low and slow voice, savoring the middle syllable. Elena has never heard her name sound so good. "We're doing this, but not here." He tucks the first aid kit Kyle surreptitiously laid on the bar under his arm, and grabs Elena by the hand. He leads her towards the back of the room, where a door Elena hadn't noticed before makes itself known. He opens it up, and leads them through.

Butterflies roil through Elena's stomach. It could be the adrenaline of the fight, the pent up frustration of being caught here in the rain, the lingering grief of wanting more than anything to get a call from her mom on her birthday. More likely than not, it was the electricity shooting up her arm from having her hand in his. She could not believe she is about to perform field surgery on this perfect specimen of a man, in what appears to be the Russian doll of drinking establishments.

The door leads them down a dark hallway, and into another bar—this one much smaller, more intimate. It is fastidiously decorated, dark and chic. Shelves stocked with an endless amount of high-end liquor.

Elena unpacks the first aid kit on the bar, flooded with relief to see an adequate needle and thread. She uses a pack of matches to sterilize the needle. "Are you sure we're allowed to be in here?" hating the way her voice sounds when she's nervous. She has never liked breaking the rules.

Damon busies himself with selecting what appears to be a very expensive bottle of bourbon and two glasses. "Don't worry", he replies with a sly smile, "I know the owner." He quickly pours two shots, and presents his injured arm with a flourish. "Bottoms up", he says, clinks one glass against the other still standing alone on the bar, and pours the shot down his throat without flinching. Elena is impressed.

"I'm about to stick you with this," Elena says, holding the needle pointing up to the ceiling, thread dangling to her elbow. "I think you don't want me drinking until after I stitch you up."

"Then you're going to need to go fast, before the alcohol kicks in." Damon says as he pours himself another shot, and pushes the other glass towards Elena. "Come on, for solidarity's sake."

"Fine," Elena grabs the shot against her better judgment, and knocks it back, immediately choking on the burn. "How do you drink this stuff," she coughs. "Ugh, ok, let's get this over with. Give me your arm."

Elena pulls out the shard of glass, and Damon sucks in a breath as she sterilizes the wound. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you look at it, the piece stuck in his arm wasn't as wide as it was deep, and it is a clean cut. It needs only a handful of stitches. Elena looks up at Damon, who gives her a nod to go ahead. He lets out a curse under his breath as she begins. Thankfully, she is focused and fast, despite the shot of bourbon. A few minutes pass before she says, "There you go, good as new." She wraps up his arm in a bandage, her eyes tracing the veins bulging over his muscular forearm. A heat builds inside her. Must be the bourbon.

As Elena packs up, she says, "I have to hand it to Bob's", leaning into the name with special emphasis, letting Damon know she has learned her lesson. "For as much of a dump that bar is, they have a spectacular first aid kit."

Damon's eyes glitter with mischief as he replies, "I'll be sure to let them know."

An awkward silence descends upon the room, with what they had come there to do now behind them. Elena knows she should check and see if it is still raining. Damon knows whatever it is he is supposed to be doing, there is one thing he would rather do above anything else.

"Have a drink with me," he offers.

Elena's mouth opens slightly. Looking as if she's about to protest, Damon pulls out the big guns. "I happen to know where they keep the Champagne." He jumps over the bar, and squats down to one of the low-boy fridges, pulling out a bottle of Champagne, unfurling the metallic cover with one hand and grabbing two champagne flutes hanging above the bar, setting them on the bar in front of her, before she has a chance to reply.

Elena says, "Again with the nosiness! Didn't anyone ever teach you to mind your own business?"

"Nope." Damon pops the cork in exasperatingly perfect timing. He pours the bubbly into the two glasses, and lifts one to Elena. She hesitates for a moment, letting him hang there with the glass lifted to her, before grabbing it. They clink their glasses together, keeping eye contact as they take their first sip. Elena immediately savors the cascade of creamy bubbles prickling the insides of her mouth. She tastes crisp, green apple, with a perfect hint of toasted almond on the finish. She releases a short, guttural "mmmhh" before she can stop herself. Damon is pleased by what he hears.

Elena takes another sip. "This is exquisite. What are we drinking?"

"It's 100% Chardonnay from a little grower-producer I picked up last time I was in France."

"Are you a wine distributor?"

"No, I own a bar, but I get involved in what we serve."

Something about the way Damon is looking at her as he says this makes Elena's eyebrows shoot up. She fights to keep down a deep blush as realization slides across her face. She takes a very small and deliberate sip before lightly inquiring, "Would the name of this fine establishment happen to be Bob's?"

The self-satisfied grin on Damon's face as he took a sip of Champagne tells her everything she needs to know. She is about to walk back all her previous derision when he holds up his hand.

"Enough, I know exactly what Bob's is and isn't. Why do you think I have this place, too?"

Elena glances around the very swanky cocktail bar, the mood lighting, the art-deco chairs and corner booths with plush velvet padding. In hindsight, it was genius. Something for everybody, as long as you knew what to look for.

"Does it require a special password to get in?"

"Depends on how I'm feeling"

"And how are you feeling?"

"Like I'm very grateful you happened to stumble into my bar this evening."

"Slow down, Boggart," Elena says, grinning, hiding behind her glass as she sips the delicious wine. Another silence settles in the room, this one more comfortable than before. Damon reaches over with the bottle to top up Elena's glass. He asks "What are we celebrating?"

Like a vice grip, Elena feels the clench of deep panic as she remembers why she's there in the first place. She whips out her phone and checks the time. An hour has passed. It must have finished raining. She has to go. Her ever present sense of duty takes over as she sprints from the bar stool, back down the hallway.

Damon catches up with her at the doorway back on the grimy student side, where she stops with tears in her eyes.

"Hey now, remember what I said about those two shots"

Elena is looking outside. She whimpers, "It's cleared up a bit, it's nowhere near as bad as it was." Elena is visibly distraught. Damon can see what she's about to do and before she does, he catches her again by the hand.

"Elena, I've never seen it raining harder before in my life."

"You don't understand. I…" Elena trails off, her voice cracking.

"The water is pouring down the street. Do you not see it? If you leave, I'm going to have to go out after you. Remember all those things you said to me about hospitals and wait times? This time it'll be me saving your ass, and I've only got one good arm."

Elena sinks again, conceding that he has a point. Water is gushing down the sidewalk, the detritus of the city streets drifting by in the currents.

"Alright, I'm staying. But only because I'm wearing heels," Elena grumbles.

"Your shoes are more sensible than you are."

"It's just… I'm supposed to be at this networking dinner, my colleagues were counting on me to be there. A very prominent doctor in my field has been dangling introductions to some wealthy donors over my head for months and this was supposed to be my chance to convince them to support my research," Elena says, the truth tumbling out in a rush as she starts to hyperventilate. "If I don't get funding, I can't continue the study. Kids will continue to die, and it'll all be my fault because I decided to walk to this stupid dinner, because I felt like doing something nice for myself on my birthday."

Damon has never seen someone look so defeated and so damp at the same time. He puts a firm hand on her shoulder, his other one gently tilts up her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

He says softly, "I hate to break it to you, but kids were always going to die, whether or not you made it to this dinner, and none of it is your fault."

Elena struggles to get her breathing under control. It's all too much. The disappointment, the guilt, the smoldering gaze peering into her soul. They both register their proximity at roughly the same time, and the energy transforms to something more charged. Damon shifts imperceptibly closer. Elena feels like she is about to break into a million pieces, when a giant clap of lightning thunders overhead, taking the lights with it.

"Noooo! It's the final minute of OT!" exclaims Bro number five.

The emergency lights snap on, eliciting a few relieved titters from the patrons of the bar. Damon takes a step back from Elena.

"That settles it, power's out. No way you are making that dinner now."

Damon switches into Bar Manager mode and jumps onto the bar. Everyone quiets and stares up at him. He announces to the darkened room, "Good evening everyone, thanks for being here tonight. By law, when the power goes out, I'm supposed to send you home. However, these are extraordinary circumstances. If I kick you out now, it's on me if anything happens to you in this extreme weather. We have back-up generators running that should keep us going at half-capacity. Next round is on the house." Damon jumps down as a few patrons cheer, the bros give each other high fives. Staring down the table of bros, Damon says, "I only ask you don't do anything stupid."

Elena feels helpless. Damon turns to Elena, puts his hands on her shoulders, firm but not tight, and says, "I need to coordinate a few things with the staff, but don't go anywhere. That last bit applies to you, too." He winks, before taking off towards the bar.

While she watches him walk away, Elena feels a buzz in her pocket. A text from Bonnie, wishing her a special day. As she sorts through a few other notifications on her phone, she sees a text from her colleague she must have missed with everything else going on.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Didn't you hear? They canceled the dinner. The organizers of the conference took one look at the weather forecast and decided it wasn't worth the risk."

Elena's jaw drops, as her body immediately releases every bit of tension she'd been holding since she set foot in New York. "Huh," she chuckles in disbelief, and a tiny bit of consternation. Has she been reading the forecast wrong her entire life? That's something she would have to take a deeper look at later on.

She glances back up towards the bar, admiring how her patient takes command, letting servers know what coolers they can open, and which they can't. Remaining calm under duress seems to be something they both have in common. His eyes find hers, and she can't help the smile that lights up her face. Her evening just got a lot more promising.

Damon sends everyone on their way with a group-high five on "Bob's", and saunters back to Elena, who is still waiting by the door.

"Well, Birthday Girl, I believe we still have most of that bottle of Champagne left, and nowhere else either one of us is supposed to be," he says with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

Elena grins ear to ear, but still can't help but roll her eyes at his overt innuendo.

"Careful, before I give you a scar on your other arm to match."

"Hey now," Damon chides, as he laces his fingers in hers and leads her in the direction of the cocktail bar. "I thought you said my forearms were too beautiful to have an ugly scar."

"Pretty. They are too pretty. But don't let it go to your head."

Damon puts his hand on her lower back to guide her through the door. "I wouldn't dare," he says low and soft next to her ear.

Shivers run through Elena, for the first time this evening having nothing to do with the weather. Caroline's prediction from earlier in the evening springs to mind. She isn't sure where the evening is headed, but for the first time in a long time, work isn't even on her radar. Smiling to herself, she turns her attention to the man at her back.

"Somehow, I'm pretty sure you already have," Elena teases.

Damon registers the lightness emanating from Elena, a far cry from how he'd left her a few minutes ago. His eyes narrow. "Not that it's my place, but you were nearly about to throw yourself at the mercy of this storm, and now, you are sporting a decided lack of tears. What gives?"

Elena reaches the bar first, and pours them each a new glass with a sly smile. "Let's just say, I've never been more grateful to learn that I suck at something."

"That something being?" letting the obvious innuendo slide. He's not twelve.

"Did you know the percentage of rain in a forecast means the percentage of the city that will get rain, not the likelihood of whether or not it will rain?"