Welcome back! Family in town this past week slowed the update a bit, but the goal was to get it out before Christmas, so here we are. Hope this heals your heart :)
Elena pushed open the doors to The Mystic Grill. She expected to draw comfort from the familiar, cozy atmosphere of her hometown's one and only local watering hole. Instead, she nearly had a heart attack. Sitting at the bar, back to the room, was a man with tousled black hair and a svelte physique drinking a glass of bourbon.
"Great, now I'm hallucinating him." Elena thought to herself.
It had been several months since her trip to New York. Try as she might, Damon was never far from her mind. Less so nowadays, though he was all she could think about right after she got home.
Thank god for Caroline, who helped her pick up the pieces of her devastating last night in the city. She was a wreck by the time she showed up in Mystic Falls for her birthday party. Running on next to no sleep, crushed by her failure to stop work from taking over her life yet again. Once Caroline saw the state her friend was in, she canceled their afternoon plans, tucked Elena into bed, and crawled in with her. When Elena woke up, they dove into the mountain of snacks Caroline got at the grocery store, and wrote draft after draft of a message Elena could send to Damon
After much debate and back-and-forth, they opted for, "Hi, how was the exhibit?"
It was an agonizing twenty minutes before Elena's phone lit up with a response. "Good, thanks. How was your flight?"
Damon's reply set them jumping up and down on the bed, chips and gummy bears flying. The rest of the afternoon zipped by in a similar manner. Eating junk food and crafting perfect text messages, until Damon had to go to work, and Elena was feeling energized enough to go to the party. She and Caroline got ready together, like they had hundreds of times before, pulling outfits out of Caroline's well-stocked closet until satisfied with the results.
Hair blown out, eyeliner drawn, it was time to go. Caroline's eye twitched a bit as she closed the door on the bomb that went off in her room. It was ok, though. She would do anything for Elena, including tolerate a little mess.
The party was a blast. It was a relief to see her old friends, and for once, she found she could stop thinking about work. Her night at Bob's seemed to reawaken the part of her brain that allowed her to focus on enjoying the present. It was rusty. Every so often, she'd have a flash of anxiety as she thought about something for work, but she came back to the party fast enough. She resolved to keep working on it, unsure why she'd denied herself time to relax for so long.
Elena and Damon continued to text over the next few days, even speaking briefly on the phone once or twice. He sent her the pictures of his injury, as promised. She gave her ok to take out the stitches and then… the conversation petered out. It was tough to keep up the momentum, given that they'd only spent a grand total of about 11 hours together, only a fraction of which were used for talking. It didn't help that they were both busy and worked erratic hours. Every so often, she'd get a text from him, an article he thought she might like. Or she'd send a meme she thought would make him laugh. In the end, too much time had elapsed. Their normal lives fell too far out of context to sustain continued conversation.
It would still be awhile until Caroline arrived. Elena came early, so she could have some time to review the results of her latest case study. She had been making a more concerted effort to actually use her days off, hence her date with Caroline back in Mystic Falls, but old habits die hard.
Elena spread out her papers on the table, and pulled out her phone. The other thing that made it hard to keep in touch with Damon was that she couldn't find him online anywhere. She assumed he'd be all over Bob's social media, but all she saw were pictures of drink specials and Kyle. Kyle was everywhere. Even articles written about the bar featured quotes exclusively from him. She believed Damon was the owner: he commanded too much respect from the staff, Kyle included, not to be. But she couldn't imagine why he wouldn't want to be associated with the place. Well, thinking back to the signs of the bathroom, maybe she could.
Because she couldn't find him at Bob's, she couldn't find him anywhere. She didn't have his last name. Their intellectual connection was so engaging, they spent very little time talking about their personal lives. She remembered that he grew up in Phoenix, lived in New York for a little over a decade. Nothing around where he went to school or any other identifying personal information. As a last ditch effort, Boolean searches by personal interests like "Damon" AND "Dostoevsky", "'Damon" AND "Black Holes" net her zero results.
Once, she worked up the nerve to call the bar. The hope was she could sniff out his last name by talking to someone, but it was Kyle who answered. At the sound of his nasal "Hello?", she'd slammed down the phone. She didn't want to risk him recognizing her, too. The thought of him telling Damon she called, snooping for information, made her cringe.
She flipped through a few posts on Bob's Instagram page. Eventually, she figured out the code for the password to get back to Bub's. It was in their posts on pub trivia - the answer to the question of the previous day. Tonight's password was, "Bazooka".
She closed the app, and opened up a new message. A few weeks had gone by since they were last in touch. She could send a quick text to check in. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, and she hit send. With that taken care of, it was time to get down to business. Elena put her phone back in her purse and bent her head down over her work.
Damon felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket. Text from Cinderella.
"You have a Doppelgänger in Mystic Falls. Hope you are well."
He nearly spit out his drink. About fifteen minutes ago, he felt the energy shift that he'd come to identify over the years as "beautiful woman walks into a bar." He didn't look, because he assumed there wouldn't be anyone worth checking out in the podunk town he was stuck in for the weekend. Maybe he'd been wrong.
He turned around, scanned the room. It didn't take long to spot her. Holy shit.
Seated at a booth, hair cascading over the side of her face as she intently looked over some papers was Elena Gilbert, who had been very easy to find online. All her social media was private, but Damon was able to satiate his urge to call her every day by reading her research papers. Ric had talked some sense into him, that it was important not to get too invested in a pipe dream. Better to deal with the mess that was his divorce first, then see if there was anything to explore later. It had been tough to hold back at first, but then he legitimately got busy. Their location nestled in the heart of Colombia University meant business boomed when everyone came back to school.
But this…this did not feel like his normal luck. Thanking whatever gods decided to put them together in the middle of nowhere, Virginia, he decided to have some fun. She still hadn't noticed him, so Damon slid off his bar stool, and traced his way around the perimeter of the room.
Elena looked up from her work and checked the bar. Damn, maybe she was hallucinating. There was no sign of the man she'd seen when she walked in. Not even an empty glass signaled his presence. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she turned her attention back to her reading, before she heard a voice coming from behind.
"Out of all the gin joints…"
Elena turned to see who addressed her, and screamed.
"What, not happy to see me?" Damon slid into the chair opposite her.
Elena's jaw hung open, still unable to trust what she saw. Her eyes flew to the slight scar on his forearm, only visible if you knew where to look. Her mouth snapped shut. It really was him.
Damon grinned, as pleased by her reaction as he was to be sitting across the table from her. "How about, 'can I buy you a drink,'" he suggested. "Is that more the line you expected?"
Elena sat up, back in control. "It's more I'm horrified you only seem to have one movie reference." Quick recovery. Phew.
"Hey, Casablanca is a classic."
"There is more than one classic film."
"Yeah, but not one that combines the charm of Humphrey Bogart and the grace of Ingrid Bergman."
"Weren't they together in The Big Sleep?"
"No, that was Lauren Bacall."
Elena could hardly believe they were having this conversation. Let alone in The Grill, of all places. She brought her hand to her forehead, "Wait, how are you even here?"
"I'm from here. What's your excuse?"
"There's no way," Elena shook her head, "I grew up in Mystic Falls. This town is home to seven thousand people. If you were from here, I would know."
"My mom and I left when I was two."
Elena didn't know what to say to that. Then something clicked.
Elena's eyes widened in recognition. "You're that Damon. You're Giuseppe's son," Elena said. The uproar Giuseppe's first wife left behind after leaving Mystic Falls had long settled down by the time Elena was old enough to put any of the pieces together, but cities this size earn the reputation they have for a reason. Like most small towns, everyone here knew everyone else's business.
"Was Giuseppe's son."
Elena nodded, a look of concern on her face. "I heard about that, I'm so sorry for your loss."
Damon scoffed. He surveyed the handful of patrons scattered around the room. "You probably knew him better than I did." Same for everyone else there. It was only towards the end of Giuseppe's battle with cancer, when it was clear that he would lose, that he'd attempted to kindle a relationship with Damon. Something about not wanting to die with regrets.
Elena nodded at that, too, lips thin. The most legendary part of the Salvatore family drama was Giuseppe's grudge against Lily for leaving him. She was nonplussed to hear he'd sacrificed a relationship with his son for the sake of maintaining a misguided set of principles.
"Hey Elena," a man's voice said. It was Matt, her old friend, saving her from having to respond to the sad truth that yes, she likely did know Damon's dad better than he did. "Can I get you anything?" Elena wondered if Matt would ever stop working at the Grill.
"Not right now, thanks," Elena shook her head. "I'll wait until Caroline gets here."
Matt nodded, and turned his attention to Damon. Elena could see Matt giving Damon the once over. "Anything for you, sir?"
"I'll have another glass of Knob Creek, neat." Damon gestured to Elena, "Really, nothing for you?"
"Fine, I'll have a beer, please Matt."
"On it." Matt took off, sneaking a glance behind him. He'd never seen Elena here with another guy before. They avoided the subject of significant others after they broke up. For all he knew, she'd never dated anyone else since. He wondered who this dude was. He'd watched them for a minute before coming over to interrupt their obvious flirting.
Damon leaned up on the table, "I thought you were a wine drinker?"
"Most of the time, yes. But let's put it this way," Elena leaned in, shot a fast glance in Matt's direction, and whispered conspiratorially, "This is where I learned to hate Chardonnay."
"Ah," Damon also snuck a look towards the bar. "Yeah, their Bourbon selection is barely tolerable."
"Hey," Elena protested, leaping to The Grill's defense. "Your wine list at Bob's isn't any better"
"Not unless you know where to look." Elena had forgotten how he could make anything sound suggestive. She wasn't going to take the bait, though. Not yet.
"You still didn't tell me why you are here right now."
Damon leaned back. "I'm meeting up with Stefan. We have the reading of the will tomorrow, and the lawyer insisted on holding the meeting in person."
Of course, Giuseppe's other son. The one he'd had with his second wife. Stefan was her age, they had grown up together. She scanned Damon's face looking for resemblance. The only thing they seemed to have in common is that they were both wickedly handsome. Growing up, she often had a crush on Stefan, and he on her, but never at the same time. In the years after her parents died, she struggled to generate any emotions aside from the fountain of grief that drowned and numbed her—romantic inclinations included.
Not only that, Stefan was always so serious. Sometimes, Caroline's bright, bubbly energy was the only thing keeping her afloat. That, and the times Elena wanted to pull her hair out when she got too bossy. Caroline kept her distracted. The pit of grief she walked the edge of every day had a strong gravitational pull. She worried that spending too much time with Stefan could mean she would fall in and never get out.
"Sounds like we're having an impromptu high school reunion." Matt was back with their drinks and caught the tail end of their conversation. Both Elena and Damon just looked at him, so he made a hasty retreat.
"Cheers," Damon held up his glass. Elena clinked hers against his, holding eye contact as she took a sip. God, it was good to see him. She drank in the features of the man who dominated her brain for months now. The whisper of stubble on his jaw, the soft lips she could almost taste. How was it possible he had gotten even more attractive in the time that passed?
The side of Damon's mouth drew up as he watched her check him out. Her skin flushed, not from embarrassment this time, when she saw him observing her. She returned his half smile and cleared her throat.
"Well, where is he?" Elena asked, "Stefan, I mean."
"Running late," Damon scoffed. "He didn't say why. Probably a hair gel emergency or something."
"His hair is still a very serious matter, I gather," Elena couldn't suppress her amusement. That was another reason she and Stefan never dated. He was way too into his hair.
"You mean he's always been this way?" Damon was incredulous. He had not been impressed by his younger half-brother. Giuseppe forbade them contact for most of his life, but insisted they try to form a relationship before he died. Damon had been down to Philadelphia once, and sometimes Stefan came to New York for business. Each time felt like pulling teeth. Meetings held to appease the guilty conscience of a dying man. The only reason he went was because while he didn't feel like he owed his old man anything, he could see Giuseppe was trying to right a wrong. That he could respect. And he was curious about the half-brother he'd only heard rumors of throughout the years. Thought maybe they could be friends.
Instead, what he'd found was someone told their whole lives how wonderful and brilliant they were. The man was a first year associate at a no-name firm in Philadelphia and obviously thought he was doing God's work. Damon could tell Stefan looked down on his own lack of a degree. Damon did not have parents to pay for college. He took his education into his own hands. Working in restaurants was an advanced degree in humanity—especially when supplemented with the steady supply of books Damon kept behind the bar for when it was slow. The handful of conversations Damon had with Stefan were a disappointment at best. Whoever said blood is thicker than water misunderstood the quote.
"Ever since middle school," Elena confirmed. She felt a twinge of sadness to think about having a brother and not knowing anything about them. She pulled out her phone and sent her brother Jeremy a quick heart emoji. They were adept at communicating in symbols. He would know what it meant.
"Sorry, that was rude," she apologized.
"It's fine." Damon pointed to the pool tables he'd spotted while Elena sent her text. "You up for a game?"
Elena checked her phone. Caroline wasn't due for another hour, and had a tendency to run late anyway. She looked up at him with a devilish smile. There was no way he could know she'd been playing pool here for the better part of two decades. She was going to kick his ass. "Oh I don't know, I'm a little rusty," she feigned.
"That's ok, Cinderella." Elena lit up, hearing him use the nickname he gave her. "I'll be happy to give you some pointers." Damon loved pool, but he'd be lying if he said there was no ulterior motive. The chance he could use the excuse of teaching her how to shoot as a way to get up close to her was the main reason he made the suggestion.
"That'd be real kind of you," Elena said, channeling her best Southern Belle. She picked up her frothy mug of beer and walked over to the pool table, breaking out into a huge grin as soon as she turned her back. Damon got up and followed. Even if he didn't get to do that move where you lean over someone and guide the stick through their hand, he'd still get to see her ass bent over the table. He watched it sway as she walked up to pick a cue and cube of chalk from the rack on the wall. He grabbed the triangle, and started organizing the balls.
"Are you going to break, or am I," Elena asked while rubbing blue chalk over the end of her cue.
"Think you can handle it?"
"I'll try." Elena pouted her lips, opened her eyes wide.
"Well then, ladies first," Damon declared smugly, confident he'd be behind her in minutes.
Elena walked to the edge of the pool table, bent at the waist, and focused her aim. Like an archer, she drew back her elbow, and sent the cue ball flying. Clean break that sent three striped balls into the pockets. She sank two more in quick succession. Her next shot bounced off the rim of the pocket.
She turned to see Damon, jaw dropped. She walked up, held out the cue. "Looks like you're solids."
Damon's eyes flared. "Oh, it's on," he warned. He grabbed the stick from her and stormed over to the table. Thus began what would hence be known as The Great Showdown at Mystic Grill.
It was only about three minutes later when Elena brought the game to a close. "Eight ball, side pocket." It landed with a satisfying thunk. Satisfying for Elena, anyway.
Damon stood, arms crossed. He surveyed the table, still littered with solids. Mocking him with their aggressively bright color palette. Time to try a different tactic.
Elena leaned up against the table, chalking up her cue. Damon came up to her, getting close but not actually touching. He noticed Elena's breath catch. Perfect. "You don't need any pointers, do you," he murmered low in her ear.
"No, but you might," Elena teased, taking a step back. She knew what he was up to. Two could play that game. With exaggerated sensuality, she began to re-rack. Tracing a finger along the edge of the table, she walked around to grab a ball on the other side of the kitchen. Back arching, she reached far across the green felt as she gathered the balls in the triangle. She looked up at Damon with a playful grin, and immediately regretted it. His gaze could light her on fire. Elena could feel his eyes on all the places she wanted his hands. Followed by his tongue. Damn it.
She moved the rack to the center of the table, and gave it, and herself, a few good shakes for good measure. Time to get her head back in the game. "Your break."
Damon picked up the cue where she left it leaning on the table, walked around to join her. "I don't need pointers," he said with a smirk. "I know exactly how the game is played."
Elena turned to face him, and found herself suddenly chest to chest with her opponent. He looked like he was ready to devour her whole. She did her best to keep her breathing under control. Even Damon had to remind himself this was about winning. Elena started to lean in. Damon's head bent down to meet hers, but she stopped, a breath away from his lips. "I'm not talking about your strategy, I'm talking about your stance."
Damon's head shot up. "My stance?" My stance is fine!"
Elena laughed, "Yeah, it's fine, but it could be better here. Set yourself up like you are about to take a shot. I'll show you."
Damon was too shocked to protest. He grabbed the cue, did as she said. Elena moved around him, making adjustments to his grip and the angle of his arms. She pulled back his hips, positioning them to the side and encouraged him to bend down further.
She ran her hand along his back, sending shivers up his spine. "You need to get low, keep your eyes parallel with the ball. It's the mark of a professional versus an amateur."
"Pshhh, are you calling me an amateur?" Damon couldn't believe how she'd turned the tables on him.
"Now, you're going to aim for the one ball, a sharp hit there distributes the energy evenly through the break."
"You did not answer my question."
Elena chuckled. "Visualize the hit you want, start slow, gradually gaining momentum." She leaned over Damon, helping him slide the stick towards the cue ball. "Then you let it rip," she whispered close to his ear.
Damon followed her directions, sent the neat triangle scattering all over the table. It was the best break he'd ever done. Not that he would admit that to her. A single solid fell into the side pocket.
"Nope, solids and I are in a fight. I pick stripes."
Seduction largely backfired on him, not that he was complaining. He made a subtle adjustment to his pants. Time to try something else.
Damon walked around, picking his next shot. "How's your research going?" He managed to sink one ball before scratching on his next shot.
Elena walked over to grab the cue from him, looking lost in thought. Her forehead scrunched up in worry. Damon wished he wasn't so competitive. He didn't like the direction of her mood shift.
"My research," she sighed out.
Thunk, went number 5. She stood, repositioned, and then sunk the 2 ball.
"The research part is going great. We had a record number of participants in our last study." Thunk. "The main problem, as always, is funding. Wes told me yesterday our grant application got denied, so we need to apply for another." Elena handed Damon the cue stick. She missed her last shot.
Damon could feel his jaw tighten at the mention of her pompous colleague. "How is the good doctor?" He asked, not bothering to hide his disdain. He thought back to watching that creep move his hands all over her. The cue ball sailed far past his intended target, having been hit with so much force.
Elena paused before answering. Things with Wes were better ever since her rebuttal at the conference. But better in the way that, yes, he wasn't acting like a creep anymore. Worse in that he was no longer going out of his way to help her. He seemed to have lost interest in their research. Any zeal for finding grants was gone. The whole situation made her want to pull out her hair. Better yet, his.
Elena walked up to Damon, grabbed the cue. Thwack. The 6 ball sailed into the corner pocket. "He's fine." Thwack. Goodbye number 7.
Damon was sorry he asked. Things were obviously not fine.
"You know, as a Salvatore, I know a guy who might be able to send him a message."
"What?" Elena looked up from where she was bent low over the table, paused mid-stroke. Damon tried his hardest not to look down her shirt.
"Kidding, I'm not actually part of the family."
"Did you say Salvator-ray?" Elena stood up, leaned on the cue.
Good to know he hadn't taken things too far with the mob hitman reference. "Yeah, it's how the Italians pronounce it." His very first job in New York had been as a busboy at a mom-and-pop restaurant run by Italian immigrants. They cackled when they heard his Americanized interpretation. Refused to call him anything but, in their view, the correct Italianate pronunciation. He was only there six months before ditching the kitchen for front of the house, but he kept the new spin on his last name. He liked it. Especially the distance it offered from the man who gave it to him.
"It suits you," she nodded. She resumed her stance. Thwack. Just the 8-ball left. "Corner pocket."
"Can I get you guys anything else?" Matt interrupted. Damon found it hard to believe how grateful he was to see this guy. Praised his perfect timing.
Elena looked over at the beer she'd only had a sip of. "No, I'm good," she said with a smile. "Thanks, Matt."
Matt knew they didn't need anything else to drink. He saw their glasses were full. But it was still early. The place was almost empty. Watching Elena hand this guy his ass in pool was the best show in town right now, and he wanted a better seat.
Damon walked up to the table with their drinks on it and downed his bourbon. Winning was clearly out of the question, Stefan was on his way, and he had a rare night off. Might as well get drunk. "I'll take one more."
"You got it," Matt hurried off to fill the order. He wanted to be back in time to see her bring it to a close.
Thwack. Damon did an internal fist pump when her shot bounced back. The cue ball rolled into a position where it would be a simple tap to get one of his stripes in the pocket. He was still in the game.
A quick look at Elena brought his elevated spirits down a notch. Her mind had been elsewhere ever since he brought up work. Damon wanted to win, but he wanted her to smile again more. Maybe he could do both.
Thwack. Number 9, side pocket. Thwack. Ball 11 down. Progress.
Damon walked over to Elena. The casual observer might think she was surveying the table. Damon saw her eyes were too distant for that. He startled her by saying, "You know, if you want another chance to feel me up, I could use a reminder on how to angle my hips." He added a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows for good measure.
Elena laughed. "I thought you weren't one for pretense," she challenged, raising a brow of her own.
"None to be found," he demurred, with a lick of his lips. "I am strictly talking about pool." He took his time with that last word, drawing it out.
Try as she might, Elena couldn't take her eyes away from his mouth, now only a few inches from hers. "It's still your turn," she breathed.
"You could aim for a chip shot here." Matt chimed in, after setting Damon's drink down on the table. Elena jumped back, ran her hand through her hair. Damon wanted to groan with frustration. What was it with blond men butting in on his time with Elena?
"No one asked you, Mr. Miyagi."
"Hey, you know Matt could teach you a few things, too," Elena goaded in defense of her friend. She was suddenly struck by how normal this bizarre situation felt. The thought made her smile.
"I don't need help, thank you very much." Thwack. Miss. Dammit.
"It was only a suggestion." Matt held up his hands in an apology that didn't match his face, obviously pleased. He heard a ding from the kitchen. Order up.
"Let me know if you guys need anything else," he threw over his shoulder as he walked off towards the back.
Elena came up to Damon, who moved to the table to have a sip of his drink. She leaned the cue on the wall, joined him to have a sip of beer before bringing this one home.
"What about you? How have things been in New York?"
Damon thought about how to answer her. Overall, they had been good, but he was in the middle of another bad argument with Katherine. He and Elena had yet to have the time to delve too deep into their personal lives. Judging from her behavior, he assumed she wasn't dating anyone. Neither was he, but technically he was still married. Something he knew she would like to know.
"I'm in the process of getting divorced." She would find out somehow. Better to hear it from him. "It's messy."
This surprised Elena. She'd checked for a wedding ring the night they'd met at Bob's, happy not to see one. She was unsure how old he was, but would find it hard to believe him to be older than mid-30s. Young to be ending a marriage.
"That sounds difficult," she said, placing her hand for a brief moment on his arm."I'm sorry to hear that."
"Nah, don't be. It's for the best." Damon held up his glass. "Congratulations are in order."
"OK then," Elena returned his cheers. "Congrats."
Damon marveled at the woman sitting across from him. He wondered what else from his past he could throw at her. So far he'd revealed his strained relationships with his father, his brother and his soon-to-be ex-wife. He assumed pretty much anyone else would look at him as damaged goods. She'd met him with nothing but compassion. The medical world was lucky to have her. He hoped she wouldn't get swallowed up by the endless amount of pain she must encounter.
His eyes wandered to the pool table. Stripes seemed intent on mocking him, too. A lone black ball was the thin line between either his comeback or his defeat. Who was he kidding? This game was over.
"Actually, scratch that," Damon began. "I'd like to propose a new toast." He held up his glass once more.
"What's that"
"To you annihilating me in pool being the sexiest thing I have seen in a long time."
Elena laughed as she clinked her glass with his. She got up off the bar stool, grabbed the cue, and pulled a Damon. She pressed up next to him and purred low in his ear, "I haven't annihilated you yet."
She swung her hips as she sashayed over to the pool table. Once she arrived, her ass led the way as she bent down to prep her shot. She watched Damon as she slid her hand sensuously up and down the cue stick, before declaring"8-ball, corner pocket."
Damon swallowed hard. "Quite the show, Ms. Gilbert."
That got her attention. "How do you know my last name?" She replayed their conversations a thousand times, and was certain she hadn't told him. Dropping the coquette-act, she took aim, all business.
"I stalked you online." Damon grinned, full of mischief. "Your paper on improving patient outcomes is a fascinating read."
Damon timed this last revelation right as she took her last shot. She scratched, losing the game. Not that she cared. She was too busy geeking out about how he took the time to read her research.
"I can't believe you've read my work," she gushed. She ran up to him, threw her arms around his neck, full of gratitude. "How did you find me?"
"Your conference speaker's bio," he divulged, placing his hands on her waist. He decided to save the fact that he'd read every single thing she'd published for a less public setting.
"Well Mr. Salvator-RAY," Elena beamed, with a tilt of her head. "You up for another game? We're tied now."
Damon gave her a look that said "Come on". They both knew he won on a technicality. "I could think of something more fun for both of us, if you're up for it." His grip on her hips tightened.
They were on the same wavelength. Elena picked up Damon's wrist to check his watch. "Is this new?" She generally wouldn't notice a detail like this, but the garish purple watch screaming "I HEART NYC" seemed out of character for him.
It was new. Last week, he snapped after a particularly awful phone call with Katherine. He'd ripped the watch she gave him off his wrist and chucked it against the exposed concrete wall of his bathroom, shattering it into dozens of satisfying pieces. A watch was essential for his peace of mind at work, and he was already late for his shift. The souvenir shop down the street from Bob's was the quickest solution. His colleagues teased him endlessly that night. They couldn't believe the man who wore designer shirts to mix cocktails could stomach putting something that tacky on his wrist.
It's true, that night he hated wearing it. Promised he'd go to Bergdorfs the next day to get a suitable replacement. But he surprised himself by being reluctant to take it off. He liked what it stood for. The purple had grown on him.
Damon pressed a kiss to the corner of Elena's jaw, earning him a husky sound from low in her throat. "Part of turning over a new leaf."
Elena did a mental calculation. Caroline wouldn't be here for another 35 minutes at the earliest. They had some time to kill. It's not everyday your dream guy from New York walks into your small hometown bar. Now she got why he kept making Casablanca references. They were infectious.
But something was bothering her. Her brow scrunched with worry. "What about your meeting with Stefan?"
"Who?" Damon leaned in. Elena felt her concerns evaporate with the whisper of his breath on her lips.
Thanks very much for sharing your thoughts on the last chapter. I didn't expect that it would hit so hard! Part of the delay in getting this one out is that I wanted to think though more of the overall arc of the story, and be clear about things I think this story is really about. It's my first fan fic and my first time writing anything like this at all, so I'm as surprised as y'all are with how this keeps unfolding lol.
Both in the show and in this story, Damon and Elena have a lot of difficult things from their past to work through before they can find a way to be together. The challenges aren't the same for this story, but they draw inspiration from the show. One of the most beautiful parts about their relationship for me is the way that they help one another heal, and that's the aim here, too! We're about mid-way through. The next few chapters will be set in Mystic Falls. I think you'll like them :)
Also - my spouse is the last person to read a chapter before it is updated, and he'll add things in from time to time (background in film, a gifted storyteller in his own right). He added the line from Casablanca to the last chapter without me noticing before I posted it. So I think there were maybe 5 people that have read Damon deliver that line twice. It has been changed. He's not that obsessed :P Thanks to Scarlett2112 for pointing that out for me!
Anyway, my family will still be in town until the end of the month, so I don't see another update happening until January. I hope that 2023 was the best it could be for you and that next year will be better than you can imagine. I know the holidays can be a time of mixed emotions, so take care!
Stay cozy, see you in 2024 :)