A/N: Happy New Year! :)
Beta: arabian - Thank you so much! *hugs*
Summary: Post 4x09. One-shot. Damon and Elena decide to meet ten more times before letting go of each other forever.
Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries belongs to L.J. Smith & CW.
When It's Real
1
It is snowing.
Elena is sitting on her window seat, intermittently holding the phone in her hand as if it were fragile like a snowflake and gripping it so hard it's a miracle it didn't break.
Damon's voice is strained, his tone very poorly casual when he acknowledges her agreement to the idea.
They will meet ten times and then never see each other again.
She looks at the snowflakes clinging to her window and tries to convince herself that this is only some kind of a ruse they are agreeing upon.
They decide on meeting at Ric's loft hoping he wouldn't decide on haunting them both forever.
Or perhaps that's exactly what they are hoping for.
It is actually kind of romantic, Elena thinks, sneaking into the darkish building, mounting the stairs... But then she quickly chastises herself.
This is not a date.
They never were on a date. How ridiculous it is to be planning a break-up if they never even went on a proper date? She wonders if she could bring that up as an argument.
Damon is already there. Elena knocks and hears his footsteps, holds her breath.
She thought she would be able to walk inside in measured steps and smile a casual smile, but then she sees him and he sees her and in a blink of an eye they are in each other's arms and she can't hear what he's saying with his face buried in her hair.
But then he does put some distance between them and Elena's smile fades from her face.
It crossed her mind once or twice during the past weeks. After all, how many times can you break someone's heart before they don't even want you to mend it anymore? Maybe he is ready to let go.
But the grim thoughts disperse when after locking the door he pulls her in his arms again and she smiles and smiles and smiles, because this is a ruse, it is a ruse, it is a ruse!...
2
It may be a ruse, but he is still way too good at self-torture.
It is raining.
The next time they meet he has books and maps and drawings with him and yes, they are actually going to talk about Professor Shane, Klaus, the double mass-murder and the cure.
After half an hour she can't resist a snappy proposal to call Bonnie and Caroline.
Damon gives her a look from above the book he's holding, eyebrows raised and she wonders if he can read her mind and know that she may appear to be reading but what she's really doing is reminiscing about all the times when they danced together.
Just like he is.
3
They are doing really well this time. They watch movies. They talk. They joke.
But then Elena pushes herself deeper into the couch, draws up her knees and looks at him.
Damon remains very still for a second before shifting his eyes to her.
The wind throws fistfuls of snow against Ric's apartment's opaque windows.
The TV screen goes blue when the movie ends but neither of them moves.
They are sitting motionlessly, just looking at each other. Thoughts are fluttering in Elena's mind like torn pieces of paper. She places her hand under her cheek and leans against the couch without averting her eyes from Damon.
It takes a few heartbeats before he slowly mirrors her movements and she risks a small, conspiratorial smile. He smiles back.
They are unbreakable.
4
She comes in carrying a bag.
"I'm staying overnight."
"Elena."
"I'm staying."
"Elena."
"Are you?"
The question catches him off guard and he can either continue on the high road or crash to the ground.
He opts for the latter.
They spend the night lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, whispering, their voices drowning in the sounds of a snow storm raging outside.
It is almost a success, really.
Except that they wake up holding each other's hands so hard there is blood under their fingernails.
5
The fifth meeting is a disaster.
"We should talk about the sire bond," Damon says, storming in.
But he doesn't listen, counters all of her arguments.
"Everything you think you feel might not even be real, Elena."
"You should get yourself a t-shirt with that sentence!" she says through gritted teeth and waits for a retort that doesn't come.
"I should've done it right the first time," Damon whispers hollowly.
He looks up and Elena feels panic flood over her like an icy cold wave and she blurs out of the loft, leaving Damon with the unspoken invocation hanging in the air.
6
They both skip the sixth meeting.
7
Elena comes in late. With a stake.
"If you as much as start-"
Damon looks away with a lopsided smile, but then before she even blinks the stake is snatched out of her hand and she's pinned to the wall, her eyes darting to a vervain syringe in Damon's hand.
There is no time to talk, so she does the only thing that can possibly work.
The kiss is tender and sweet but it slowly fills with fear. He kisses her back as if she was going to disappear. One of his hands is tangled in her hair, but she knows the other is still holding the syringe. She places her chin on his shoulder and whispers into his ear: "Don't do this to us."
She has her arms locked around his neck and they inhale and exhale at the same time. His lips are pressed to her cheek and she feels when they curl up in a self-loathing, mirthless smile.
If there is one thing he fails at terribly and repeatedly and always - it's letting go.
The syringe falls to the ground.
8
They dance for fifteen minutes, kiss for thirty, sit on the edge of the bed for forty five.
"If we're going to feel guilty about something..." Elena says at last in a determined, shaking whisper, resorting to the words they both know by heart and she doesn't need to finish the sentence.
It is a long, sultry, winter night and by dawn they have checked all the boxes on the list of wrong things to do.
9
Damon caresses away the sunlit strands of Elena's hair that are clinging to her cheek and outlines the contour of her lips with his fingertips.
She doesn't see it coming.
He brushes his lips against hers and then draws back with a bereaved expression and before red lights of warning flash in her head he's saying the words, uttering the rehearsed sentences without a pause, in a rigid, desolate voice.
When he lets go of her wrists she slaps him across the face as hard as she can. He rolls over and doesn't look at her. She's screaming and crying until her voice is all hoarse and her eyes burn so much she can hardly see the road when she's driving home.
She slams the door shut and rushes upstairs, falling onto the bed, sobbing convulsively and hitting the mattress with her fists.
And then she stops.
For a few seconds she's just lying very still, her own breathing the only sound audible in her room interlaced with a quiet, steady drumming of raindrops outside.
Very slowly, she pulls herself to a sitting position, her eyes meeting her teddy bear's glassy stare.
She runs her hand through her disheveled hair and glances right and left with a deepening frown on her face.
They didn't meet ten times yet.
10
The windows are dark when she arrives. For a brief moment she wonders if he is here.
He shouldn't be.
Neither should she.
The door is open and Elena walks in. The wooden floor screeches under her feet.
She stops in the middle of the room noticing Damon's silhouette next to the window. Pale evening lights from the street illuminate the distance between them, but not their faces.
Slowly, he turns around. Outside the night is bleak, but they look at each other and the darkness seems bright.
Is it broken? Is it real? Is it him having done it wrong again? Is it her feelings being stronger?
"I'm here because you're here," she answers the question he doesn't ask.
They smile without realizing it.
Hurriedly, he gathers her into his arms and between frenzied kisses, beyond what's wrong and what's right, they wordlessly decide not to spend another day apart.
The truth is real enough.