[fic] I'm Gonna Burn For You, You're Gonna Melt For Me (1/4)
Title: I'm Gonna Burn For You, You're Gonna Melt For Me (1/4)
Author: badboy_fangirl
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Damon POV, Damon/Elena
Category: Angst, Romance
Word Count: ~1700
Summary: Trust breeds trust, Elena once said. Will honesty breed honesty?
Spoilers: Picks up the morning after the events of 2x12 "The Descent" with speculation beyond that. (Not based on spoiler reading.)
Warnings: none
Show/Bookverse: Show
Author's Notes: Title lifted from the song "Give In to Me" from the movie Country Strong. I just can't stop writing these two, even when I legit try and successfully write other pairings. I always come back to them. I HAS A SICKNESS.
It makes no difference.
Zero, zip, zilch. Zilch.
That's the thought that races across his mind as he comes to, his face in the soft, wet dirt of a Virginian forest.
The forest where he buried Jessica. The stupid human girl who had stopped her car when she saw someone lying in the road.
He learned that maneuver over a 146 years ago, but it works like a charm, every time. Never has someone not stopped. Never has anyone been wise enough to just. keep. driving.
But it makes no difference. Killing her doesn't make anything less, which is of course what he'd been going for. The momentary pleasure had been an even smaller blip of time than usual. Rose is still dead. Jules is still lurking like some sort of self-righteous she-wolf when they are basically the same kind. It's just that Damon can never say the full moon made him do it.
Only he has ever made himself do it; well, except for that one time, when Stefan made him do it.
He groans, and rolls over so he's lying on his back next to the fresh grave he dug the night before. He'd imbibed a whole lot of alcohol--so much so that he passed out after he covered his ass, which is odd. He can't remember the last time he passed out from drinking too much. It seriously might have been when he was a Confederate Soldier (deserter). It had been a very long time ago.
Maybe he'd just been in a grief coma.
His cell phone rings, splitting the silent, cold morning air, reminding him that he has not fallen off the edge of the world--well, metaphorically he may have, but literally, no. He's right here, in good ol' 2011 sixty some-odd miles from Mystic Falls, and his phone is ringing. As he tugs it from his jacket pocket, he's rather astonished to see Elena's name on the caller ID.
It's not often that she calls him. He has a half-second of panic, of wondering if something has happened to Stefan, and he pushes the call button clumsily, his thumb mashing over three keys, but managing to hit the one he needs. "Yeah?" he asks harshly into the phone.
"Damon?"
"Yes, Elena. Were you expecting a different result when you dialed my number?" The world might be ending, and he might be in the land of desolation, but he will always have his wit and sarcasm to keep him company.
There's a moment of silence while she hesitates. "No, of course not. You just...you didn't sound like yourself for a second."
"Hmmm. Well, it is indeed me."
"How are you?" she asks, her voice timid. This girl. Will she never stop torturing him? Goddamn her.
"I'm fine," he replies, forcing cheer into his voice. "And you?"
He hears her sigh. "I'm worried about you."
"Well, I just said I was fine. What more do you want?" He sits up, brushing dirt off his pants as he does so.
Her voice is stronger, almost angry when she answers, "I wish I could believe you."
"Well, wish in one hand and spit in the other and see which one fills up first," he snaps, and then he does the only thing he can think of: he hangs up on her.
He presses his stupid phone against his forehead and curses Elena in every language he knows (English, French, Spanish, German, and Russian). When it rings again immediately, he switches it off.
He has to walk eight miles back to his car, but he goes the normal speed, and takes his time. He's got nothing but, so why rush it?
*
By the time he gets back to the Boarding House, hours later, Tyler Lockwood is there stirring Stefan and Elena up to all kinds of worry about Caroline. Nobody knows where she is, and Tyler "has a bad feeling" so they all trudge out into the woods to track her.
(Stefan has apparently been working out a Vampire-Wolf Treaty that Damon expects to not really fucking work, for the record.)
Elena volunteers to go with Damon, and though he protests, and Stefan's eyebrows knit together, nobody can actually tell Elena what to do. Damon realizes that he could lose her in the woods, but of course he'd never do that because she would stubbornly stay out trying to find him rather than give up and go home and keep herself safe.
Not to borrow from Edward Cullen, but he did sometimes think the girl had no preservation instinct whatsoever.
They've been tracking the woods behind the cemetery for a little over an hour when he says, "I killed someone last night." Part of it is just to get her to stop looking at him furtively, to stop the wheels from cranking in her mind, and part of it is just to say it. To put it out there. To run her off once and for all.
Elena brushes her hair back, throwing it over her shoulder as she looks towards him. "What?"
"Last night. After you left. I...got really drunk. And I fed. On this girl. Named Jessica. She's buried on Route 40."
He expects to see horror, to hear her gasp and back away from him slowly. He waits for that look to come over her face, the one that had been there when Jeremy died--that had been there for weeks after he lived. The one that had melted away for some inexplicable reason.
Nothing happens though. She just looks at him and asks, "Why?"
He shakes his head.
"Don't do that," she commands, and she lifts her chin in righteous indignation. "Don't treat me like a Priest and then say I dunno. If you want to tell me what you did, fine, but tell me why you did it."
"Elena--"
"Because you really do know why, don't you? You know why you do everything. You use justification all the time, and you say you're not like Stefan, but I don't believe it. I've seen you help people and--"
"One time," he scoffs, "I put Rose out of her misery, I wasn't--"
"Caroline. Caroline's mother. Carol Lockwood. Alaric. My brother. Me. Stefan." Her in and out inflection of certain people actually makes him wince. She is always watching him, isn't she? "These are all people I've seen you help. Of course, I've seen you be awful to most of us as well, but that's not the point."
He can't help himself, he stops walking and throws his arms up in frustration. "What is the point, Elena? You need to get it through your head just who you're dealing with!"
Her eyebrows go up and anger streaks across her face. "Oh, so it was for my benefit that you did this latest heinous act? It was so I'd know who I'm dealing with? You are so full of shit!" She laughs mirthlessly when his mouth falls open. He's never heard her say that word before. She steps closer to him and pokes his chest with one finger. "You know what you need to get through your head, Damon? That you're a person, with feelings. And that until you start dealing with your feelings, you're going to keep screwing up your life, and by association the lives of everyone in your life, because we're all here. We're all a part of it. It affects all of us now. Think about that. Every time you do something you know you shouldn't; you affect all the rest of us." She takes a breath and then places her hand flat against his chest, giving him a good hard shove, which moves him not at all. "Wipe that smirk off your face. I know you love to torment all of us, but only because you can. It's only because we care about you that it matters what you do. Otherwise you would just go do it, and you wouldn't tell me about it."
She stomps off across the dead, fallen leaves, and he just stands there. This is the problem (one of many!) with Elena--every time he tries to push her away, she burrows in deeper, like a godforsaken tick. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn't pursue her, that he would respect her relationship with Stefan, that he would do one noble thing in his whole good-for-nothing life, but she just keeps doing stuff that makes it impossible.
He wants her more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants to be whatever it is that she thinks she sees when she looks at him, but his greatest fear is that he can only be that--whatever that is--if she's looking at him. And if she won't, if she won't really see him, if she won't be more than his friend and his brother's girlfriend, if she won't be honest with him in return, he can't fully commit to what she's asking.
Watching her broaden the physical distance between them while making the emotional tie shorter at every turn is driving him fucking nuts. It's all exploding in his head, and he teeters, just like he had the night before, just like he did that day in her room with Jeremy's life in his hands, only this time there is no one to kill, there is only Elena.
There is only Elena to tell the truth to, and to demand the truth from, and there is only this moment.
He runs after her, catching her in a flash of setting sunlight. He grasps her arm, pulling her around to face him, and her brown eyes are wide, her cheeks wet with tears that he didn't know he could make her cry.
I'm your friend, Damon.
It's not enough, it will never be enough, and he takes her face in his hands, gentles his thumbs over those wet patches before drawing her mouth to his.
He waits for the resistance, for the moment where the awareness in her eyes turns to revulsion, but it never comes.
So he kisses her, and he believes.
...part two...
Author: badboy_fangirl
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Damon POV, Damon/Elena
Category: Angst, Romance
Word Count: ~1700
Summary: Trust breeds trust, Elena once said. Will honesty breed honesty?
Spoilers: Picks up the morning after the events of 2x12 "The Descent" with speculation beyond that. (Not based on spoiler reading.)
Warnings: none
Show/Bookverse: Show
Author's Notes: Title lifted from the song "Give In to Me" from the movie Country Strong. I just can't stop writing these two, even when I legit try and successfully write other pairings. I always come back to them. I HAS A SICKNESS.
It makes no difference.
Zero, zip, zilch. Zilch.
That's the thought that races across his mind as he comes to, his face in the soft, wet dirt of a Virginian forest.
The forest where he buried Jessica. The stupid human girl who had stopped her car when she saw someone lying in the road.
He learned that maneuver over a 146 years ago, but it works like a charm, every time. Never has someone not stopped. Never has anyone been wise enough to just. keep. driving.
But it makes no difference. Killing her doesn't make anything less, which is of course what he'd been going for. The momentary pleasure had been an even smaller blip of time than usual. Rose is still dead. Jules is still lurking like some sort of self-righteous she-wolf when they are basically the same kind. It's just that Damon can never say the full moon made him do it.
Only he has ever made himself do it; well, except for that one time, when Stefan made him do it.
He groans, and rolls over so he's lying on his back next to the fresh grave he dug the night before. He'd imbibed a whole lot of alcohol--so much so that he passed out after he covered his ass, which is odd. He can't remember the last time he passed out from drinking too much. It seriously might have been when he was a Confederate Soldier (deserter). It had been a very long time ago.
Maybe he'd just been in a grief coma.
His cell phone rings, splitting the silent, cold morning air, reminding him that he has not fallen off the edge of the world--well, metaphorically he may have, but literally, no. He's right here, in good ol' 2011 sixty some-odd miles from Mystic Falls, and his phone is ringing. As he tugs it from his jacket pocket, he's rather astonished to see Elena's name on the caller ID.
It's not often that she calls him. He has a half-second of panic, of wondering if something has happened to Stefan, and he pushes the call button clumsily, his thumb mashing over three keys, but managing to hit the one he needs. "Yeah?" he asks harshly into the phone.
"Damon?"
"Yes, Elena. Were you expecting a different result when you dialed my number?" The world might be ending, and he might be in the land of desolation, but he will always have his wit and sarcasm to keep him company.
There's a moment of silence while she hesitates. "No, of course not. You just...you didn't sound like yourself for a second."
"Hmmm. Well, it is indeed me."
"How are you?" she asks, her voice timid. This girl. Will she never stop torturing him? Goddamn her.
"I'm fine," he replies, forcing cheer into his voice. "And you?"
He hears her sigh. "I'm worried about you."
"Well, I just said I was fine. What more do you want?" He sits up, brushing dirt off his pants as he does so.
Her voice is stronger, almost angry when she answers, "I wish I could believe you."
"Well, wish in one hand and spit in the other and see which one fills up first," he snaps, and then he does the only thing he can think of: he hangs up on her.
He presses his stupid phone against his forehead and curses Elena in every language he knows (English, French, Spanish, German, and Russian). When it rings again immediately, he switches it off.
He has to walk eight miles back to his car, but he goes the normal speed, and takes his time. He's got nothing but, so why rush it?
*
By the time he gets back to the Boarding House, hours later, Tyler Lockwood is there stirring Stefan and Elena up to all kinds of worry about Caroline. Nobody knows where she is, and Tyler "has a bad feeling" so they all trudge out into the woods to track her.
(Stefan has apparently been working out a Vampire-Wolf Treaty that Damon expects to not really fucking work, for the record.)
Elena volunteers to go with Damon, and though he protests, and Stefan's eyebrows knit together, nobody can actually tell Elena what to do. Damon realizes that he could lose her in the woods, but of course he'd never do that because she would stubbornly stay out trying to find him rather than give up and go home and keep herself safe.
Not to borrow from Edward Cullen, but he did sometimes think the girl had no preservation instinct whatsoever.
They've been tracking the woods behind the cemetery for a little over an hour when he says, "I killed someone last night." Part of it is just to get her to stop looking at him furtively, to stop the wheels from cranking in her mind, and part of it is just to say it. To put it out there. To run her off once and for all.
Elena brushes her hair back, throwing it over her shoulder as she looks towards him. "What?"
"Last night. After you left. I...got really drunk. And I fed. On this girl. Named Jessica. She's buried on Route 40."
He expects to see horror, to hear her gasp and back away from him slowly. He waits for that look to come over her face, the one that had been there when Jeremy died--that had been there for weeks after he lived. The one that had melted away for some inexplicable reason.
Nothing happens though. She just looks at him and asks, "Why?"
He shakes his head.
"Don't do that," she commands, and she lifts her chin in righteous indignation. "Don't treat me like a Priest and then say I dunno. If you want to tell me what you did, fine, but tell me why you did it."
"Elena--"
"Because you really do know why, don't you? You know why you do everything. You use justification all the time, and you say you're not like Stefan, but I don't believe it. I've seen you help people and--"
"One time," he scoffs, "I put Rose out of her misery, I wasn't--"
"Caroline. Caroline's mother. Carol Lockwood. Alaric. My brother. Me. Stefan." Her in and out inflection of certain people actually makes him wince. She is always watching him, isn't she? "These are all people I've seen you help. Of course, I've seen you be awful to most of us as well, but that's not the point."
He can't help himself, he stops walking and throws his arms up in frustration. "What is the point, Elena? You need to get it through your head just who you're dealing with!"
Her eyebrows go up and anger streaks across her face. "Oh, so it was for my benefit that you did this latest heinous act? It was so I'd know who I'm dealing with? You are so full of shit!" She laughs mirthlessly when his mouth falls open. He's never heard her say that word before. She steps closer to him and pokes his chest with one finger. "You know what you need to get through your head, Damon? That you're a person, with feelings. And that until you start dealing with your feelings, you're going to keep screwing up your life, and by association the lives of everyone in your life, because we're all here. We're all a part of it. It affects all of us now. Think about that. Every time you do something you know you shouldn't; you affect all the rest of us." She takes a breath and then places her hand flat against his chest, giving him a good hard shove, which moves him not at all. "Wipe that smirk off your face. I know you love to torment all of us, but only because you can. It's only because we care about you that it matters what you do. Otherwise you would just go do it, and you wouldn't tell me about it."
She stomps off across the dead, fallen leaves, and he just stands there. This is the problem (one of many!) with Elena--every time he tries to push her away, she burrows in deeper, like a godforsaken tick. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn't pursue her, that he would respect her relationship with Stefan, that he would do one noble thing in his whole good-for-nothing life, but she just keeps doing stuff that makes it impossible.
He wants her more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants to be whatever it is that she thinks she sees when she looks at him, but his greatest fear is that he can only be that--whatever that is--if she's looking at him. And if she won't, if she won't really see him, if she won't be more than his friend and his brother's girlfriend, if she won't be honest with him in return, he can't fully commit to what she's asking.
Watching her broaden the physical distance between them while making the emotional tie shorter at every turn is driving him fucking nuts. It's all exploding in his head, and he teeters, just like he had the night before, just like he did that day in her room with Jeremy's life in his hands, only this time there is no one to kill, there is only Elena.
There is only Elena to tell the truth to, and to demand the truth from, and there is only this moment.
He runs after her, catching her in a flash of setting sunlight. He grasps her arm, pulling her around to face him, and her brown eyes are wide, her cheeks wet with tears that he didn't know he could make her cry.
I'm your friend, Damon.
It's not enough, it will never be enough, and he takes her face in his hands, gentles his thumbs over those wet patches before drawing her mouth to his.
He waits for the resistance, for the moment where the awareness in her eyes turns to revulsion, but it never comes.
So he kisses her, and he believes.
...part two...