Chapter Nine: Angels and Damons
Elena Gilbert
Sitting down on the upholstered corner bench, inside her favorite coffee shop where she liked to write, Elena had her laptop open, introducing Damon to the spicy contents of a word document. The surprising sexual tension that had arisen during her massage needed an outlet – and what better outlet than the new romance novel she was currently working on? Unfortunately, with Damon's new input, she found herself deleting more than she was adding.
"No, you've got to take that part out," Damon insisted, placing down his coffee cup and pointing to a paragraph on Elena's screen. "No man is planning a Valentine's Day date in his head while he's taking off his love interest's clothes."
Elena groaned and started to wonder if this was a bad idea. She was hoping to deep dive into a real-life male point of view, and already she wanted to come up for air. "Fine, I'll re-word it, but I'm not taking it out completely. It's romantic."
Damon rasped through his lips. "I'm telling you, you're giving men way too much credit for their pre-fornication cognitive capabilities. You only took your clothes off for a massage and you had me forgetting words."
Elena tapped away on the keyboard, reluctantly rewriting the section. "I don't know..." she offered in mock sympathy, "... you remembered the word 'towel' pretty frequently."
He smirked dryly. "Very funny."
She side-eyed him, reciprocating with her own brittle smirk as she typed. Maybe Damon wasn't as romantic as she initially thought. Had she read too much into the small gestures he'd made on their way to the coffee shop? Carrying her bag? Holding the door open for her? Picking up the bill? It certainly didn't seem like a performance to win her over. She knew when chivalry was fake – the date would usually end each gesture studying her reaction, trying to determine if he'd done good, like he deserved a treat and a pat on the head for being a gentleman. Damon didn't seek this reassurance – there wasn't an end goal – it was fluid and natural. So why did it seem like he was now trying to drain all the romance out of her latest novel?
Finally done, and leaning back on her seat, Elena was determined to probe further into Damon's psyche. Beyond that sassy, pragmatic exterior, there had to be something deeper he was hiding. He couldn't just be sitting here, cool as a cucumber, when only a couple of hours ago he was bumbling nervously with attraction to her. This is what Elena did best in her books: released the soft side of the cut-throat CEO... broke the bodyguard's boundaries with his princess... turned the romance cynic into a believer. She needed into that head of his!
She shifted her body in his direction. "You told me that I deserve to know what a man is thinking before he puts his hands on me. So, what were you thinking during that time?"
Looking like he had just wandered into his own trap, Damon avoided her scrutinizing gaze, his eye twitching nervously. Then he let out a skittish chuckle. "You don't need to know what I was thinking – or how any man thinks. It would corrupt that sweet, innocent mind of yours."
Elena raised her eyebrows in amusement. "Sweet? Innocent?" She leaned over and scrolled to the next page on her document, tapping the screen, urging Damon to read the next scene.
He leaned forward, mouthing the words as he read them. After a moment, the mouthing stopped. He slowly began to nod, his lips flattening into a crooked, upside-down smirk. He finally leaned back in his seat, blowing air through his lips. "Well, that's... you've definitely captured... it's certainly not what I..."
"Are you forgetting words again?" Elena teased.
Damon ran his hands down his face. "I kind of am, yeah." Then he matched Elena's pose, turning to the side to face her. "Okay, if you really want to know what was going through my head, I'll tell you. Bear in mind, that this is no different to any other fantasy a man would have – so don't judge me for it because I'm not proud of it – this is just how the male mind works." He took a deep breath and then proceeded to blurt out his dark secret. "I was thinking about you tying me to the massage table, kneeling naked over my face, and threatening to give the spa a one-star review unless I gave you the best orgasm of your life."
As the words came out, an elderly man who was making his way to the exit with a coffee-to-go in hand, froze on the spot as he overheard. Then, with small, shuffled steps, he turned in their direction, his eyes round and unblinking, his thin lips buried under a thick, gray mustache.
Elena gestured at the man with a wide arm. "Well, clearly that's not how all men think, as you've just horrified this lovely gentleman!"
The man continued to stare at Damon in surprise. Then his jaw finally moved. "That spa you mentioned... is it local?"
Damon offered him a wide but apologetic smile. "Sorry, my man, it doesn't exist."
"Oh," the man uttered sadly. "That's a pity." Then he turned, opened the door, and left.
Damon swung his head smugly in Elena's direction. "See."
Elena rolled her eyes. "Well, excuse me if I like to write about sex a little more romantically than that. Women want the type of love that makes them feel alive. It's about sparks, tension, attraction, and connection – not having power over someone."
Flabbergasted, Damon jutted his finger in the direction of Elena's laptop. "Your current story is about a man who kidnaps a woman he likes!"
"To save her from another group of men plotting to kidnap her first," she pointed out defensively. "He was protecting her."
"Except she doesn't find that out until after she falls for him," he countered. Then he groaned, the conversation clearly going off track. He shuffled forward, putting a hand over hers, and looking into her eyes with concern. "Just be careful, okay? Not all men have good intentions. Some just want to steal the best thing women have to offer."
"And what's the best thing we have to offer?" she asked skeptically.
Damon's smile turned solemn, lowering his eyes. "Your love, Elena." His focus was on his hand, stroking lightly over hers, but his gaze remained distant. When he finally spoke, it was like a reluctant confession. "The way women love, it's like a fire – it brings light and warmth to men, and they'll want as much of it as they can get. But fire needs fuel to stay alive... so make sure you choose a man who has a lot of it. Some men are fully prepared to let that fire burn itself out and then wonder why the hell they're sitting in the cold and dark, like it's anyone's fault but their own."
Looking down at Damon's hand still resting over hers, Elena sunk into the silence between them. She wondered if he was speaking from experience. Had he let someone's fire go out? Or had he watched it happen to someone else?
She couldn't help but think about Stefan's mother. Stefan didn't talk about his family much, except for what he'd told Caroline – his parents had remained in a loveless marriage up until his mother's early death. That's all Elena knew. Perhaps he had confided in Caroline because her own parents were divorced – because she also guarded herself when it came to love, and maybe he respected that.
Elena was a romance writer – a fantasist – who had come from a happy home and believed that love would find a way and eventually conquer all. It was likely that Stefan and Caroline didn't want to destroy that belief for her. But here was a man now warning her about the dark side of love to save her from future heartache. A man that – up until now – had been behaving like he had a one-track mind. It was a refreshing revelation – he obviously had a deeper soul than he let on. It was very sweet. Very... romantic...
Shit, it really was romantic.
Elena placed her other palm over his, her fingers lightly tapping against the back of Damon's hand. Her eyes kept drifting over to her laptop, and she bit her lip anxiously. She didn't want to seem insensitive, but –
"You're dying to write that down, aren't you?" Damon's lips twitched lightly into a smile.
"Can I?" Elena burst desperately.
Damon chuckled and withdrew his hand from between hers. "Go ahead."
"Thank you!" she squealed. Elena spun back to her laptop, tapping swiftly at the keys. "It was so beautiful and poetic. What else have you got? Hit me!"
Damon sighed. "Okay, you want something beautiful and poetic?" He leaned his elbow against the cushioned backrest, rubbing his chin, while Elena waited, fingers poised over the keyboard, waiting for his next words of wisdom. Finally, he clicked his fingers with an idea. "When men make love to a woman, it's like they're a musical instrument... and we're trying to figure out how to hit the high notes."
Elena frowned, leaning back in her seat with a groan. Ergh, he was back to his one-track mind again. "That's not beautiful or poetic! We don't want to be compared to a banjo... or an oboe...or a –"
"What if I compared you to a harp?" Damon suggested, leaning closer, his fingertips gliding through her hair, slipping a loose strand behind her ear. His eyes roamed over her face with a passionate commitment to detail. "Stunning... elegant... tranquil... delicate – the instrument of the heavenly angels..."
With a reluctant smile, Elena considered this. It was slowly winning her over. "Mmm, that doesn't sound so bad. I guess it can be considered kind of romantic."
Damon rotated back on his seat, facing the table again. "Exactly!" he agreed, taking the final sip of his now-lukewarm coffee. As he placed the mug back down, he added playfully, "Plus, I'd get to pluck you."
Elena whacked him on the shoulder, her top teeth clamping down on her smile. "You're supposed to be helping me write a romance scene, not a locker room joke."
"I didn't see you helping me when you made me continue massaging you, despite knowing how I felt about you."
"I didn't see you refusing," Elena pointed out.
"Oh, you had me at your mercy, and you loved it," Damon accused teasingly, his eyes lingering on her.
A moment of tension passed between them, and Elena was starting to feel pleasantly nervous at the way his eyes seemed to be devouring her. She broke eye contact first, biting her lip, before mumbling, "You keep looking at me."
It didn't deter him. "I do, don't I?" he admitted playfully, tilting his head with a look of contentment. Then he leaned in, whispering in her ear, "Do you know who else keeps looking at you? The barista. I think it's time for another order before we get ushered out of here for the rush hour lunch period."
Elena fought back a chuckle as she looked over to see the barista was, indeed, eyeing them. She was in a prime spot by the window, but she was determined to keep it. "I've already had two coffees," she said, reaching into her bag and taking out her card, "so this time I'll have a hot cocoa. I don't want to get jittery." She handed her card to Damon.
Damon looked down at the card with barely concealed amusement, like she was a child who had just handed him Monopoly money that he clearly wasn't going to use. He took it from her and stood up from his seat. "Maybe the jitters aren't from the coffee," he said with a wink, placing her card down on the table beside her laptop before walking up to the counter.
Elena rolled her eyes, reluctantly dragged the card towards her, and put it back in her purse. This guy was making her heart pound in all the right ways.
Suddenly her phone vibrated. She wouldn't normally check messages while on a date, but since her date was on the opposite end of the room, putting in their drink order, it couldn't harm to fire back a quick message.
Groaning, she slumped back in her seat.
User192011211518: I received a notification that the spa voucher was used. You're not at work today then?
ElenaGAuthor: No, I'm not, Sherlock, I have the day off. But thank you for the voucher because I'm now on a date with my hot male masseuse.
User192011211518: Lucky guy.
That was an unexpected response. When she'd pretended to be drunk and he'd refused to take advantage of her, she'd successfully made him jealous at the mention of Elijah. Had her stalker lost interest? Elena's back straightened. Well, good... she guessed. She could now focus all her attention on Damon.
ElenaGAuthor: He might get even luckier.
User192011211518: How so?
ElenaGAuthor: Maybe I'll go around to his place afterward and enjoy another massage... except this time we'll both be naked.
Suddenly a teaspoon flew from the counter in front of Damon, bounced off a nearby wall, and clattered to the floor, decorating the floor with a small spray of cappuccino foam. As the barista came out to attend to the floor foam, Damon grabbed a napkin and started wiping down the counter.
"Are you okay?" Elena asked, beginning to rise from her seat.
Damon turned briefly to her, noticed her standing, and held his hand out in a stopping gesture. "Yep! I was shaking the sweetener packet... the spoon was in the mug... I hit it... don't worry, I got this." He held up the soggy napkin as proof.
"Ok-ay," Elena uttered hesitantly, returning to her seat.
Another message came through.
Elijah696969: Can we meet now, for lunch? I have another engagement after work.
ElenaGAuthor: Oh, now's not the best time. I'm having coffee with someone, it's kind of a date.
Elijah696969: Great, so you're already there? I'll see you in a few minutes.
Placing her phone face down on the table, Elena leaned back and groaned loudly into her hands, just as Damon was bringing over her hot cocoa.
"That doesn't sound good," Damon observed, sliding his cappuccino next to her mug. "Let me guess... your best friend's cousin is in the hospital with a broken leg and you're down as her next of kin and need to leave immediately...?"
"No, nothing like that," Elena said, much to Damon's visible relief. "A friend is stopping by at the coffee shop to speak to me."
Sitting down next to her, Damon picked up his mug, bringing it to his mouth. "That doesn't sound so bad."
"Yeah, I suppose so," Elena mused. "He promised to help me with a situation I have with an online stalker – actually, not so much online anymore, since he broke into my apartment. Anyway, my friend works in IT, so he set up a couple of cameras to try to catch him."
The mug paused at Damon's mouth after taking a sip, leaving him with a thin frothy mustache along his top lip. "You have a stalker?" he asked cautiously. "And you set up some cameras to catch him?" He drew his upper lip into his mouth, sucking away the foam, then slowly placed the mug back on the table. "That's very smart. Where did you put them?"
"Not smart enough, unfortunately," Elena sighed. "The guy was wearing a biker helmet when he came round. I don't think the cameras outside caught anything." Her phone vibrated against the table, and she picked it up, glancing at the screen. "Elijah's pulling up now. I promise it won't take long."
She stood from her seat as Elijah entered, and she walked over to him. She didn't want to chance him sitting down and gate-crashing her date. Besides, she was sure he had nothing to inform her. Elijah had placed two cameras by the front door to her apartment – one in front and one behind – and she highly doubted the stalker loitered at her doorway, putting on his helmet before knocking.
Elijah pulled her in for an unexpected hug and, as she drew back, she noticed he was staring intensely at Damon over her shoulder. Damon strode over and held his hand out for Elijah to shake, allowing Elena to step aside.
"You must be the date," Elijah observed, his tone neutral, shaking Damon's hand. "You're a lucky man."
"That I am." Damon looked down at Elijah's tightened grip and finally pulled his hand away. "Name's Damon S-sss – you know what? Just Damon will do. You're not likely to forget it. Kind of like Cher."
Elena looked awkwardly between the two of them. They were staring at each other like they were lifelong rivals. She immediately knew this was a bad idea. She didn't know if Elijah was giving off Jealous Suitor vibes or Protective Big Brother vibes, but either way, it was putting Damon in a difficult position. She had to get this over with quickly. She didn't want to seem ungrateful for Elijah's help, but this wasn't the agreed time. She could catch up with him properly over the phone later.
Slapping her hands at her sides, and taking a deep breath, Elena asked, "Any updates on my stalker situation then?" The sooner she had an answer, the sooner he could leave.
Glancing down at her, Elijah replied, "We might have captured a fleeting moment where your stalker wasn't wearing his helmet, Elena, but I'm having someone fine-tune the image at the moment." He looked up at Damon with the same acute stare he'd given him previously. "The details are a little blurry. Who knows if we'll be able to... identify him." Elijah cocked his head at Damon with a barely perceptible smirk.
Damon remained unfazed, his mouth flattening into a wide smile. "Sounds like intricate work."
"Are you aware that Elena is a famous author, Damon?" Elijah asked out of the blue.
Disapprovingly, Elena softly shook her head. "Elijah, you don't have to grill my da –"
"I do know that, yeah," Damon replied.
"Do you follow her on social media at all?"
Damon chuckled at Elijah's question. "I've only just met her."
"I understand," Elijah replied with a pseudo-respectful nod of his head. "Well, just to be clear, Damon..." – he spat out the name – "... I follow Elena, and if you follow her too, it might cause a bit of a problem between us. Do you understand what I mean?"
Damon's jaw tensed. "You follow Elena?"
"Actively."
"I see."
Elena groaned. She was fed up with this primitive display of macho behavior already. If she left it any longer, they'd be throwing their feces at each other. "Elijah, what are you doing?"
Elijah looked at her. "I'm just recommending that nobody else is added to your follower list at the moment, Elena, dear. Not until we find out who your stalker is." His focus returned to Damon. "They could be attempting to get to know you under all kinds of multiple identities."
Rasping through her lips was the biggest apology Damon was going to get for the moment. "Pay no attention to Elijah," she told Damon. "You can add me on social media if you want. He's just all worked up over my stalker situation. He likes to think he's the FBI as well as my Number One fan."
Not removing his eyes from Elijah, Damon smiled, "Number One fan, eh? Sounds like you caught your stalker."
"No." Elena shook her head, laughing low and nervously. "I've seen the stalker's body in a photo, and Elijah has some pretty distinctive tattoos."
"He could be using a fake photo," Damon quickly added.
Considering this briefly, Elena soon dismissed the possibility. "I don't think so. The stalker seems really egotistical about his body."
Elijah's stare intensified, his eyebrows flicking upwards. He hissed at Damon, emphasizing each syllable, snarling as he spoke. "Egotistical maniac."
Sighing, Elena wiped her hands across her eyes. How long was this going to continue? She needed a break. "Yeah, well, I'm popping to the restroom." She shot a final request at the both of them with a stern point of her finger: "Try to relax that weird stare you've got going on with each other in the meantime. I expect you both to be friends by the time I get back."
"No problem," Damon and Elijah said simultaneously, still looking like they might duel at any second.
Throwing her hands halfway in the air in defeat, Elena headed to the restroom.