Fanfic: Spicing Things Up (1/1), K+
Title: Spicing Things Up
Author: goshgollyg
Rating: K+
Category: Drama/humor
Summary: Very short, little one-shot. Damon and Elena bantering in the kitchen
Spoilers: through 2x04 sneak peek
Warnings: none, except that this is my first D/E fic and the first, well, anything I've written in quite a while, so be warned, it may suck, in the non-punnish kind of way.
Show/Bookverse: Show
Author's Notes: Unfortunately, I do not own TVD. Or Damon. I'd like to own Damon, but alas, that little fantasy is one that will never come true.
Hands brushed her waist lightly, tickling her skin through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. A small squeak escaped from her throat, followed in quick succession by an annoyed frown, as Elena Gilbert turned to see Damon Salvatore's signature lopsided smile and mischievous blue eyes skimming her small frame appreciatively.
“You're filling out,” he observed, as he reached around her to grab an apple from the counter.
“You're an ass,” she countered, rolling her eyes and turning back to the carrots she was chopping.
“You know,” Damon began thoughtfully, chomping down on his apple, “Our little tet-a-tets would be much more entertaining if you thought up some new come backs every once in a while.” Elena scowled up at him, watching as he hopped easily onto the countertop beside her.
“Now don't get me wrong, 'You're an ass' is a perfectly acceptable remark. Very valid point on your part. But I think it's time you stepped outside the box, Elena. Gotta spice things up a bit.”
She could feel it. She was falling back into their normal routine. The banter that felt so light and fun compared to the rest of her too-mature-for-her-own-good life. But she couldn't let herself fall. Not after everything that had happened. And yet, she couldn't walk away, either. So she steeled herself for an argument, fought down a smirk, and kept her eyes focused strictly on the task in front of her, acutely aware of the proximity of his fingers to her own.
“Just because Jenna caved, doesn't mean I will,”she said pointedly, still not looking him in the eyes. She knew what she'd find there, in those icy blue eyes. Hurt, regret, longing. Not prepared to face that, she kept chopping and waited for his response.
“Then why are you still standing here, Elena?” Damon asked softly. “If you don't want anything to do with me, why aren't you leaving, like you did earlier?”
At that, she forced a glare, her breath hitching for just a second when she did finally look into his eyes. Looking away, she put on her most convincingly exasperated voice. “If you can't tell, Damon, I'm busy helping out Jenna. In case you don't know what that means, helping is when you--”
“I know what 'helping' means, Elena,” Damon interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “I don't need a vocabulary lesson. But you could get back to the salad later, excuse yourself, or at least seem a little more perturbed.” He paused, watching her eyes change as the wheels began turning in her head. “You know,” he countinued, “we've been standing here for...a while now, and you have yet to mention Jeremy. Who, btw, has forgiven me and moved on, unlike somebody else I know.”
Elena let out a sigh and stopped chopping, dropping the knife onto the countertop with a bit too much force, her back going rigid at the mention of her brother. “Does it get tiring?” she snapped out, earning a curious look from Damon. “Listening to yourself talk all the time?”
Remembering Stefan's birthday party, Damon smiled. The girl was crafty, he had to give her that. “Ah, Elena gets feisty,” he retorted, inching closer, his fingers now just barely touching Elena's. Waggling his eyebrows, he smiled down at her, the scent of his cologne and the feel of his fingers invading her senses, making her head spin. “Me likey.”
Confusion pooled in her brown eyes, and it was like he could see everything she was thinking. He could see her mind pulling her between her loyalty to Jeremy, and to Stefan, and the palpable tension that rest between them, begging to be released. He could feel his own breath speeding up, as he dared to slide his pinky over hers, a thrill running through his body when she didn't pull away.
Just then, Elena heard the back door slam, and all the confusion rushed out of her eyes, as she fixed him with her best bitter stare. “Cut it with the eyebrows, Damon, I told you I don't want anything to do with you,” she gritted out, removing her hand like it was on fire. Damon shook his head, chuckling lightly, not even bothering to look over his shoulder as he hopped off the countertop and walked away. “She's all yours, Stefan.”
Author: goshgollyg
Rating: K+
Category: Drama/humor
Summary: Very short, little one-shot. Damon and Elena bantering in the kitchen
Spoilers: through 2x04 sneak peek
Warnings: none, except that this is my first D/E fic and the first, well, anything I've written in quite a while, so be warned, it may suck, in the non-punnish kind of way.
Show/Bookverse: Show
Author's Notes: Unfortunately, I do not own TVD. Or Damon. I'd like to own Damon, but alas, that little fantasy is one that will never come true.
Hands brushed her waist lightly, tickling her skin through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. A small squeak escaped from her throat, followed in quick succession by an annoyed frown, as Elena Gilbert turned to see Damon Salvatore's signature lopsided smile and mischievous blue eyes skimming her small frame appreciatively.
“You're filling out,” he observed, as he reached around her to grab an apple from the counter.
“You're an ass,” she countered, rolling her eyes and turning back to the carrots she was chopping.
“You know,” Damon began thoughtfully, chomping down on his apple, “Our little tet-a-tets would be much more entertaining if you thought up some new come backs every once in a while.” Elena scowled up at him, watching as he hopped easily onto the countertop beside her.
“Now don't get me wrong, 'You're an ass' is a perfectly acceptable remark. Very valid point on your part. But I think it's time you stepped outside the box, Elena. Gotta spice things up a bit.”
She could feel it. She was falling back into their normal routine. The banter that felt so light and fun compared to the rest of her too-mature-for-her-own-good life. But she couldn't let herself fall. Not after everything that had happened. And yet, she couldn't walk away, either. So she steeled herself for an argument, fought down a smirk, and kept her eyes focused strictly on the task in front of her, acutely aware of the proximity of his fingers to her own.
“Just because Jenna caved, doesn't mean I will,”she said pointedly, still not looking him in the eyes. She knew what she'd find there, in those icy blue eyes. Hurt, regret, longing. Not prepared to face that, she kept chopping and waited for his response.
“Then why are you still standing here, Elena?” Damon asked softly. “If you don't want anything to do with me, why aren't you leaving, like you did earlier?”
At that, she forced a glare, her breath hitching for just a second when she did finally look into his eyes. Looking away, she put on her most convincingly exasperated voice. “If you can't tell, Damon, I'm busy helping out Jenna. In case you don't know what that means, helping is when you--”
“I know what 'helping' means, Elena,” Damon interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “I don't need a vocabulary lesson. But you could get back to the salad later, excuse yourself, or at least seem a little more perturbed.” He paused, watching her eyes change as the wheels began turning in her head. “You know,” he countinued, “we've been standing here for...a while now, and you have yet to mention Jeremy. Who, btw, has forgiven me and moved on, unlike somebody else I know.”
Elena let out a sigh and stopped chopping, dropping the knife onto the countertop with a bit too much force, her back going rigid at the mention of her brother. “Does it get tiring?” she snapped out, earning a curious look from Damon. “Listening to yourself talk all the time?”
Remembering Stefan's birthday party, Damon smiled. The girl was crafty, he had to give her that. “Ah, Elena gets feisty,” he retorted, inching closer, his fingers now just barely touching Elena's. Waggling his eyebrows, he smiled down at her, the scent of his cologne and the feel of his fingers invading her senses, making her head spin. “Me likey.”
Confusion pooled in her brown eyes, and it was like he could see everything she was thinking. He could see her mind pulling her between her loyalty to Jeremy, and to Stefan, and the palpable tension that rest between them, begging to be released. He could feel his own breath speeding up, as he dared to slide his pinky over hers, a thrill running through his body when she didn't pull away.
Just then, Elena heard the back door slam, and all the confusion rushed out of her eyes, as she fixed him with her best bitter stare. “Cut it with the eyebrows, Damon, I told you I don't want anything to do with you,” she gritted out, removing her hand like it was on fire. Damon shook his head, chuckling lightly, not even bothering to look over his shoulder as he hopped off the countertop and walked away. “She's all yours, Stefan.”