Stories, stories stories....

Yes, what is it with stories? Who knows? No one does, but I posted one, anyway.

You might have guessed by now, that from the various youtube clips I watched, that I was very bored to have done this...

It was a scene where two characters on a tv show I once watched, soothed each other's fears, and surprisingly after building their chemistry up for three years, the writers allowed Damon and Elena to share a kiss...a surprisingly good one, which was so unexpected.

Here it is:


"Because when I drag my brother from the edge and deliver him back to you, I want you to remember the things you felt while he was gone.”

“Why is it suddenly so important for everyone to keep me in check, Elena?”
“Because I don’t want you to be what other people think you are!”

“I shouldn’t have left. I promise you, I will never leave you again.”


“I think you’re going to be the one to save him from himself. It won’t be because he loves me,
it’ll be because he loves you, Damon.”

“We’re never going to get Stefan back, you know that, right?”

“Then we’ll let him go, okay? We’ll let him go.”'

“Go to hell, Stefan.”


They were standing, side-by-side, on the Gilbert’s wrap-around porch. The two had survived hell and more through the day’s ordeal, but in the end Damon and Elena always survived. Not because of survival instincts or cunningly sharp wit, but because they had each other. That was how they had survived Klaus and originals, and Stefan and Katherine’s antics, and more.

“I feel like a horrible person,” Elena confessed, the words coming out, automatically;
unbidden, at seeing Damon.

“You just saved his life, Elena,” Damon retorted, “Take it from me: estranged is bad, dead is
worse.”

Elena paced across the length of the porch, guilt pouring through her.

“I just can’t stop thinking about what happened the last time I asked you to compel him.”

“He found out and he got over it,” he argued. “Again: not dead, Elena.” Damon stepped closer,
his proximity making her giddy, nervous, and scared all at once. “He’s so lucky
to have you as a sister.”

Elena stopped pacing, and turned towards him, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “Thank you.”

She was grateful to have him in her life; she couldn’t have done half the things she had over the summer and the course of the year, without Damon’s assistance and constant reassurances that they were doing the right thing.

And over that time, she had fallen for Damon more than she’d imagined possible. He was everything she’d once fought against, and now Elena Gilbert honestly couldn’t imagine her life without him. Damon was the anchor that kept her steady and sane, and she would have sunk to the bottomless pit of despair long ago without his help.


“No problem, Elena.”

He was brushing it off, as if being the hero and saving her time and time again was nothing,
like it didn’t matter.

“Not just for this, Damon,” Elena shook her head; he’d misunderstood. “For everything,” the Petrova doppelganger elaborated, “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”


Damon shifted, turning his body away from her, his fathomless eyes dark with guilt.

“You should know this, Elena,” He said, clearly shaken by her words. “Stefan didn’t
screw us over. He screwed us over...but he had a good reason.”

“What?” Elena demanded, confused.

What good reason could be possibly have to save Klaus, kill their master plan, and run
off like a dog with his tail between his legs, less than wise and nastier than ever?

“He saved Klaus to save me,” Damon revealed. “And he stole the coffins to get even.”

Damon met her eyes, briefly, and then, he turned and started to walk off, heading toward the
porch steps.

“Damon?” Her voice stopped him, clear and ringing. “If he did it to protect you, then why would he even do that?” Her brows furrowed, deeply in thought. “What does that even mean?”

His jawclenched in irritation of his brother’s earlier actions, and he turned toward her, his face displaying an array of storming emotions. “What does it mean?” He echoed. “It means I’m an idiot.” Damon Salvatore's voice strained with emotion. “...because I thought for one second that I wouldn’t have to feel guilty anymore.”

“Guilty for what?”

Elena was torn, confused, and exhausted. “Wait,” she interrupted. “What are you talking about?
Guilty for what?”

His eyes were tormented, burning with emotion. “For wanting what I want, Elena.”

Damon had thrown her words back in her face and they were like a slap of cold water as
her eyes opened to the truth depths of his feelings for her.

“Damon—“

He was more than a friend that was clear. They had gone past friendship long ago; she’d
just opened her blinders too late to realize it.

Why he did what he did for her. How he time and time again was saving her, even when she so thoughtlessly ran into the arms of his little brother.

Damon loved her.

Damon Salvatore, conqueror, vampire, and ex-lover of an evil slut vampire who never
loved him the way he deserved. He loved her passionately...deeply....blindly...recklessly.

He’d never painted her in soft, light colors that Stefan had. He painted in reckless abandon, smearing his fingers and turning into an integral part of her life with messy reds, and royal purples and bold blacks that left her breathless.

It was stunning, wonderful, and scary all at once. She didn’t know how to respond. She
was broken, and messed up, but he was too. So didn’t that mean, that she could forgo all the reasons she’d thought up to prevent him from getting so close to her, and allow him in and revel in something that could be great, if not slow in unfurling.

Damon nodded.

“I know,” He was already steeling himself, for her evident rejection, prepared for another declaration of love for his little brother, “Believe me I get it, you’re my brother’s girl and all.”

He didn’t sound bitter, rather he was resigned, as if Damon thought for all the charm he’d laid
on her—he could never have her. Almost as if he, he believed that he didn’t deserve her. But she’d seen the good in him when no one else had, and right now, Elena warred within herself, between throwing herself at him, telling him to stop, or allowing him to walk away.

His tall,black-clad form was disappearing down the steps, and then, he stopped and in
several quick strides was at her side.

He was right in front of her now, his face mere centimeters from hers. “No, you know what? If
I’m going to feel guilty about something, I’m going to feel guilty about this!”

Elena didn’t panic, didn’t move away, all she had time to do was register Damon’s hands
gripping her face, not roughly, but with a gentleness that gave her hope.

Then, he kissed her, pressing his mouth to hers and it was unlike the last one they’d
shared. There was no force in the kiss, no desperation, no rejection. This was
their moment.

She stood shock still, unable to do anything but allow his lips to move over hers. They were
warm, soft, and utterly disarming. The shock quickly morphed into a passion that surprised Elena, as she kissed him back, her hands sliding upwards to clasp his.

Kissing Damon Salvatore was a pleasurable experience she would have to indulge in more.

When they finally parted, their breathing labored, she lifted dazed eyes to his, trembling slightly. The shock of kissing him wore off, but the ghost of his lips over hers didn’t.

His lips curved up slightly as his dark eyes met her own. “Goodnight.”

Damon sounded as breathless as she felt, and her own heart swelled, warming, at the sight of
him.


He walked off, his casual smirk in place, and she stayed right where he’d stood, and then,
headed into the house.

She’d lost her only family and had Damon compel him to leave town to save him.

But it was for the better. Besides, she had something else to look forward to, and it didn’t
involve Stefan in the least.


They were moving on. Stefan had, and it was high-time Elena did herself.

Starting with the elder Salvatore brother.

I couldn't help myself. But hey, everyone has a guilty pleasure right. Mine is closet watching showsl like that.