A/N: This is a fun one-shot that I wrote a while ago and posted on my Tumblr. It's meant to be funny, but not in a crack-fic way. I feel like Elena deserves to indulge now and then, and boy, did she deserve it in Season 3.

I open the front door and frown.

There's a faint smell of bourbon in the parlor, and upon further inspection, I find an empty bottle on the floor. That's my favorite kind, and I remember it was half full when I was here last. Did Stefan finish it? He had better not be here. I still have vivid memories of how Elena's whole body was shaking when I picked her up on the bridge, so if I see him now, it won't be pretty.

I listen carefully, and there's a splash of water and the sound of one heartbeat. Human.

Huh.

Frowning, I walk up the stairs and follow the sounds until they lead me to my room. When I'm in the doorway, among the smell of alcohol I finally distinguish another scent.

What is Elena doing in my room?

I'm curious, admittedly, but more worried. When I left her on the porch, she was putting on a brave face, and I didn't want to push her, but I knew she wasn't okay. Having a near death experience on the bridge where you lost your parents is not something you can just shake off.

"Elena?" I call as I walk into the room. "You okay in there?" I spot a messy pile of clothes on the floor and pick them up, folding them and putting on a chair, then retrieve a pair of boots from another corner and put them together neatly.

Elena seems to move around in the bathtub, and I hear water splashing on the floor. "Yeah, come in."

I raise an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," comes an unexpectedly cheerful response. Guess the bourbon has already gotten to her. Sighing, I cross the room and warily peek into the bathroom to see what's going on.

Oh fuck.

As expected, Elena is sitting in my bathtub, an almost empty glass of bourbon in her hand. Her body is hidden under bubbles (and thank God for that), but her legs are hanging over the edge of the tub, tantalizingly long and smooth. I block out mental images of those legs wrapped around my waist and focus on her face instead. She's sporting a silly drunken grin, and her eyes have a really unhealthy gleam to them.

"Hi!" she exclaims cheerfully, waving the hand that's holding a glass. "Wanna have a drink?"

I frown. "Not right now."

"Your loss." She shrugs and downs the rest of the bourbon, then turns around to set the glass on the floor, granting me with an amazing view of her back. "I like your bourbon. Tastes good." She licks her lips. "A bit like you."

I close my eyes. What the hell is she doing? I've seen her drunk, and I get it, lower inhibitions and all, but when we were in Georgia, she didn't make moves on me.

"Elena," I start patiently, hoping to break through the haze of alcohol for a moment, so she calms down and I can convince her to sleep. "What are you doing in my bathtub?"

"Enjoying m'self," she slurs, then looks me up and down in a highly disconcerting fashion and tilts her head. "Wanna join me?"

What the actual fuck?

"C'mon," she pouts. "Th' water feels so good." She stretches, arching her back, and I look away just in time to avoid getting flashed.

"Please, get back into the water," I say, eyes closed, and Elena giggles, probably at how strained my voice sounds. It's an adorable sound, but I'm really not amused.

"Why? You nervous?"

"Just trying to preserve your modesty."

"You're no fun," she remarks with a resigned sigh, and when I dare to look at her, she actually is covered in bubbles again. "I have a question though," she whispers dramatically, then beckons me with her finger. I shake my head, but come a little closer anyway.

"What?" I crouch next to the bathtub, and Elena moves closer to me, her neck and cleavage teasing both the man and the vampire in me. I lick my lips, and Elena grins triumphantly. Shit.

"Where was your concern with my modesty on my birthday?" she asks, batting her eyelids innocently. "Remember? When you deliberately walked into the room wearing only bubbles." She bites her bottom lip, and it's the single sexiest thing I've ever seen.

"Well, you did preserve my modesty, giving me a towel and covering your eyes, I'm just returning the favor," I say conversationally, trying to conjure up mental images that would distract me from her naked form. Stefan and Klaus. Stefan and Klaus.

She moves forward a bit more, forcing me to look away again, and grabs the collar of my shirt to pull me closer and whisper in my ear: "Don't tell anybody, but I was peeking through my fingers. My sex dreams got a lot more vivid since then." She pulls back, giggling.

I shift uncomfortably, trying to rearrange my legs. Stefan and Katherine. Stefan and Katherine and Klaus.

"Okay, I think it's high time you went to bed."

"No-o," she pouts, thankfully getting deeper into the water. "I haven't even washed my hair yet."

"If I help you, will you promise to behave and go to bed later?" I bargain, and she pretends to be deep in thought for a moment, which looks rather funny, then the drunken grin is back.

"Deal."

I love Elena's hair; it's soft and pretty and I could run my fingers through it forever. Under different circumstances, this could be fun, but right now, it's really hard to enjoy the moment. I gather her hair in one hand to soak it with water, then use my other hand to pour water on the rest of it. She giggles again, and I ask before I can stop myself, "What?"

"Nothing. T'just reminds me of this dream I had a while ago." I make a point of not asking her about the dream, but she still goes on, in that conspiratorial whisper again. "I can't tell you what it was, but your hands were in my hair, too."

I think I have started shaking.

I put a ridiculous amount of self-control into focusing on my job, lathering shampoo into her hair and rinsing, then repeating it with the conditioner. Elena remains shockingly quiet, though she does squirm every now and then, and I wonder if she's trying to flash me on purpose, or she's drunk to the point where she's unaware of that. Either way, I hope she's tired enough to go to bed afterwards without making the situation any harder than it needs to be.

When I'm done, I retrieve two towels and wrap one around her hair, scrunching it gently to get the water out of it. "Okay, we're done," I tell her in case she wasn't paying attention. "Now we need to get you into the towel." I don't know what I was thinking expecting her to take it and use it while my back would be chivalrously turned, because she just stands up, raising her arms, and I look away quickly, wrapping the towel around her. I never knew Elena had an exhibitionist streak in her. Guess I figured wrong.

"It's really impolite, just s' you know," she slurs. "I might think you didn't like what you saw."

Lord, help me.

I make sure the knot on the towel is secure and pick her up to carry her to the bed. She holds on to my neck obediently, her eyelids drooping a bit, and I sigh, relieved. She'll fall asleep soon. I consider carrying her to a guest room, but none of those has a working fireplace and a ready bed, so I figure she can sleep in my room. It admittedly sounds like a recipe for disaster, but in Elena's current state, she's disaster personified, so I may as well suck it up and deal with it.

When I'm about to lay her on the bed, she wraps her arms around my neck more tightly, almost choking me. "What are you doing?" I ask slowly; it's not easy to talk in my half-bent over position.

"Don't go," she asks, in a voice so quiet and uncertain, without a trace of laughter, that I don't know if it's her talking or the alcohol. I kneel next to her on the bed, but she still refuses to let go of me. "What cologne d' you use?" That playful note is back, and I don't know if it's good or bad. "You smell so gooood."

As carefully as I can, I untangle her arms from around me and hold them at a safe distance from me. "Elena, you're drunk. Really, really drunk. If I stay with you, you're going to slap the shit out of me tomorrow, and it'll be well-deserved," I attempt to rationalize again, but it doesn't seem to be working.

"I just don't want to be alone," she adds in that quiet voice again, and I'll be forever damned because I know she's manipulating me, but I still give in.

She's been through hell today. Drunk or not, she deserves to have somebody hold her and comfort her, and if for some unfathomable reason she wants it to be me, I can do it for her.

I dig through my closet to get the longest T-shirt I own for her to wear. She puts it on without argument, and then, with a resigned sigh, I kick off my shoes and lie down, covering Elena with a comforter and tucking her in. I'm giving her a mile of space, making sure I don't touch her even accidentally, but she wiggles closer to me until her head is on my shoulder, one of her palms against my chest. Her hair is wet and a little cold, but her cheek feels soft and warm even through the fabric of my shirt.

Like the jerk that I am, I imagine what it would be like – just having her fall asleep in my arms, not because she's lonely, upset or drunk, but because she wants to.

Yeah, like that's ever going to happen.

I intend to move her when she falls asleep and go take a shower and change, at least, but the even rhythm of her breathing and heartbeat lulls me, and I drift off, too.

In the morning, I wake up before Elena does. Her head is still on my shoulder, her small hand grasping my shirt tightly like she's afraid I'll disappear. I smile at that, though it hurts me to see her like this. She really doesn't want to be alone, and given she wanted me to comfort her, she must have been desperate. Plus, she's in for a hangover of the century.

I caress her hand to make her fingers relax and roll her over gently. She makes a small sound of distress, but otherwise doesn't react. After I make sure she's still asleep, I go to the bathroom and take a quick (cold, very cold) shower, towel off and comb my hair, brush my teeth and go back into the room. Elena's still sleeping, so I drop the towel and put on a fresh T-shirt and a pair of jeans. After a quick run downstairs for a bag of blood for me and a big bottle of water for my dehydrated guest, I consider waiting in a chair until Elena wakes up, but being the dick that I am, I can't resist finding out how she'll react when she wakes up next to me. She was cool with it when she failed to kick me out of her bed before the whole epic fail of Homecoming, but now, I'm not sure she's going to remember how she ended up in my bed in the first place.

I slip in next to her again, the bed still warm and inviting, and Elena seems to sense my presence somehow, because she moves closer, her fingers curling around the neckline of my T-shirt. I feel strangely proud of it, like this small move is good enough to prove she instinctively trusts me.

If that's all I can get, you can be damn sure I'll take it.

I know she's waking up before she even moves, her heart speeding up as she takes a deep breath, wincing at what I imagine is terrible headache. She blinks a few times then, stretching as much as she can in this position, before she sets her confused eyes on me.

"Damon?"

Huh. She's not yelling or trying to run away. That's a small point in my favor, I figure.

"Morning, sunshine. Water?"

She nods, frowning as she realizes her hand is gripping my T-shirt and lets go of it while I take the bottle I'd brought here earlier from the bedside table and helpfully offer it to her. She gulps half of it down before giving it back to me, groaning as she lies back down slowly.

"Why am I in your bed?" she asks in a voice that's more wary than angry. I add another small point to my score.

"Oh my God, Elena, you don't remember our passionate lovema-? Okay, relax, that was a joke," I amend quickly, because her eyes got all wide and scared. I wonder if I should subtract any points for that while she swats at my arm half-heartedly. "But, seriously, what do you remember about last night?"

"Give me a minute, I'll remember." She reaches out again, and I give her the bottle, guessing that's what she needs. "Can I use your bathroom? I want to take a shower. I feel all gross," she complains, and I barely hold in my chuckle.

"Be my guest. I'll go fix you breakfast. You do remember where the kitchen is, don't you?"

She rolls her eyes and goes to the bathroom, frowning some more when she notices her outfit.

"Why am I wearing your T-shirt?" she asks, but I'm already halfway downstairs.

"It looks good on you!" I yell in her general direction to rile her up a little more. I think it'll make the whole matter a lot less awkward if we can joke about it instead of being all guilty and frowny, Stefan style.

I make her a sandwich and fry two eggs, not even listening to the sounds from upstairs, tempting as it is to picture her in the shower. Ten minutes later, she appears in the kitchen, dressed in her yesterday's clothes, hand pressed to her forehead. I helpfully give her another bottle of water, and she drinks some before putting it on the table horizontally and pressing her forehead to it like it's an ice pack.

"Please tell me that I just conjured that up and I did not actually get into your bathtub and… do all that stuff," she groans against the table.

"It wasn't that bad. You were just upset," I say. The last thing I want is for her to feel bad about that. So, yeah, her coping mechanism was a little strange, but nothing she should feel embarrassed about.

"Come on. I offered you to take a bath with me," she reminds me, sitting straight again and starting to pick at her food.

"Well, I've heard worse suggestions in my life," I wink at her, and a tiny little smile appears on her face for a moment, before it's replaced with a frown again.

"But I told you…" She looks at me sheepishly and blushes, scrutinizing her plate. "Well, some things I really shouldn't have said."

"Elena, you were hammered. Another shot and you would've fallen on your face. I promise you I'm not going to read too much into it, or hang posters about it around Mystic Falls, or something." At least, I'll really really try not to read too much into it. I mean, she did drive across the town to get into my house and my bathtub. But, well, she and I have gotten pretty close, so maybe she just wanted to talk to me before she found my bourbon. "Now eat," I remind her. "You'll feel better when you do."

She nods, smiling, and I sigh, relieved that I managed to make her feel at least somewhat better. She does eat, maybe to avoid looking at me, and I busy myself with coffee, offering her a cup, too, but she declines, settling for water.

"So… we're good?" she asks, peeking at me from under her eyelashes. I wonder if she'd do that if she knew how sexy it looks.

"Of course. Don't sweat it. I'd be the biggest jerk in history if I held one drunken night against you."

That gets a laugh out of her, and I smile in return, taking her fork and now empty plate and putting them into the sink.

"I reserve the right to make a few jokes, as a payback," I say in my most casual voice. I don't really mean it, but sometimes I blurt stuff out before I think, so I'd better prepare her for that.

"Fair enough," she allows and laughs again. Thank God, we're done with embarrassment. "I have to go. I promised Bonnie to meet with her in my house. Oh my God, she may be there already." Elena slips her hand inside the pocket of her jeans and retrieves car keys, but I snatch them out of her hand.

"Yeah, no, you're not driving. I'll take you home."

Surprisingly, she doesn't put up much of a fight, suggesting a compromise instead. "You know what, I'll walk. I could use some fresh air. Bring my car to my house later, okay?" I look at her intently and figure she's not going to pass out, so she may as well take a walk. I nod, and she stands up, giving me that small smile again. "I'll see you later."

She's almost out of the kitchen when she turns around, looking me in the eye. "Damon?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." I hope I don't let it show, but my heart freaking flutters.

"For what?" I say politely, but she just shakes her head, still smiling.

"You know for what." And then she walks away.

A/N. Thanks for reading :) Drop me a line if you liked it, and feel free to check out my Tumblr standbydelena for more fics I've written over the years after I kind of abandoned FFnet.