VD: Knots of Love like Buttons
Title: Knots of Love like Buttons
Author: pith
Spoilers: VD
Disclaimers: Characters and world belong to LJS. Title comes from a line in "Meeting You at an Underground Station" by Gillian Allnut, which Damon quotes. I had had started this fic back in 2011, apparently, and let it sit, and then Sarah Steffi Santos requested something similar, so I decided to try resurrecting it.
Warnings: brief, vague m/f sex at the end
Summary: It's been almost two years since Damon left Meredith's life.
Meredith had never been the type of girl to fantasize about her wedding. That didn't mean she thought less of Elena or Bonnie for doing so, but it simply wasn't something on her horizon. Between the academic and hunting futures her parents were charting for her, Meredith had barely had time for friends, let alone romance.
It also didn't mean she couldn't admire the trappings. Just because she was unlikely to don a glistening white dress-or cream, or ivory, or whatever the fashion magazines were calling this year's neutral shade of choice-and walk down an aisle strewn with flower petals didn't make her immune to the splendour of it all. It was, she supposed, the closest most women ever got to being the fairy tale princess in their own story, so why shouldn't they enjoy it? The dress in the window before her was a glorious thing, not quite a sari but similar in the way it draped and flowed. Jewels glittered at every hem, every seam, their reflections dancing along the display glass.
When she heard foot traffic increasing behind her, Meredith stepped towards to the store window. Everything on this part of the street was closed or closing, so there was a mass exodus of customers heading back to their cars. The flickering reflections of bright jackets and garish bags flashed in the window, turning the sari-like dress into a veritable rainbow with each passing pedestrian.
The person standing behind her was wearing all black and positioned at such an angle to seem like her vertical shadow. "I didn't get an invitation." The voice was calm and cool, almost casual. "I suppose mine must have been lost in the mail."
Meredith jerked and nearly dropped her bag of gourmet chocolates. She turned so quickly that she startled some passersby, a young couple holding cups from the local cafe. The woman met her eyes with companionable worry. The man went a step further, stopping within reach. "Everything okay here?"
Glancing at Damon, Meredith concentrated on slowing her pulse. "Yeah, we're good, thanks. He just took me by surprise, that's all."
"You sure?" the man asked, glancing between Meredith and Damon. The woman, still holding her gaze, raised an eyebrow and Meredith gave her a nod. It hadn't taken her long to become fluent in the silent language of women once she got out of Fell's Church, and it had saved her-and helped her intervene for others-more than once.
Meredith increased the wattage on her smile and took a step closer to Damon, though she fell short of actually touching him. "Yeah. I wasn't expecting him back from Italy until next week. Given the weather we're having, I'm surprised he didn't stay an extra month, to be honest." She glanced over at Damon, half expecting him to tell the man to mind his own business, but the vampire was remaining on his best behaviour. She just had to hope that would last. "Thanks for checking, though," she added. "I appreciate it."
"Any time." The man gave a little nod and stepped back. "Have a good night."
"You too." Meredith waited until the couple was out of earshot-and no longer sneaking glances back at her-to step closer to the window once more. "Thank you for not starting anything," she said quickly. Forced politeness always made her jaw stiffen.
"Not worth the dry-cleaning costs." Damon glanced down the emptying street. "We were talking about my missing invitation," he added, the strangers and their intervention quickly dismissed and forgotten. "I'll have to know the address of the venue if I'm going to crash the wedding."
There was no wedding in Meredith's immediate future-she wasn't even dating anyone-but he didn't have to know that. They had been involved-dating didn't seem the right word to describe a relationship with Damon Salvatore, not when every look and moment was so intense it could be hard to bear-for over a year, sharing a flat while Meredith finished law school. Then one day, she woke up to a cold bed and half-empty closets. The only explanation was a short note, tucked in the textbook for her first class of the day: all business, Damon simply said that he was leaving but had paid the rent and utility bills for the remainder of the year so she wouldn't have to worry-as if she were an item on a list of chores, waiting to be completed so the next thing could be tackled.
It had hurt. It had stung. It had been made so much worse by the fact that it was Damon and Meredith should have known better-she did know better-and she had let herself believe anyway. She had read in one of Bonnie's magazines that however long a relationship lasted, you needed at least half that time to fully recover. Meredith didn't have six months to spare on emotional anguish, so she had launched herself into her school work-and a few throw-away trysts, when nights seemed too long to endure alone-and emerged stronger and smarter than before. If she was also a bit colder, a bit more removed . . . well, there were worse things to be.
Casting one last glance back at the dress, Meredith turned and started walking. "You're the one who left, Damon. That's what happens when you leave. Everyone else moves on."
Damon could keep pace with her easily, but he stayed a step behind and a bit to the side-not quite out of reach, but rather with a healthy buffer zone in place. "I don't care about everyone else."
"You don't care about anyone, Damon," Meredith shot back, lengthening her strides. "Not even yourself, really."
"When did you start lying, Meredith? It doesn't suit you." Damon matched her pace then, his footsteps irritatingly silent. "Neither does willful ignorance. You know better."
"Don't, Damon. Just don't. You're the one who left." Meredith wasn't sure if she repeated that as a jab at him or to bolster her own defences. "That means you don't get a say in my feelings anymore."
Damon's pale hand, accented with his heavy lapis ring, gestured in Meredith's periphery and she had to stifle the urge to wrench the amulet from his finger and leave him to the merciless sun. "Another lie, clearly. If you didn't care, you wouldn't be walking away."
"I'm walking away," Meredith retorted, turning the corner sharply and making a bee-line for her car, "because I have a life. Responsibilities. Things to do. People who actually give a damn. And they're the ones who deserve my time."
She was walking so quickly that she nearly stumbled when Damon grasped her elbow and turned her around to face him. "Your jacket." With gentle, restrained fingers, Damon started fastening the buttons. "'Tight little/ knots of love/ like buttons/ close your coat'," he recited, taking a solemn step back when he was done, "'from boots to throat'."
"Damon-"
But he said nothing more. Hands up in idle surrender, Damon stepped back until he was leaning against the corner of a small bookshop and he only watched, his gaze as steady and protective as that of the woman who had intervened mere minutes earlier, as Meredith got into her car. As soon as she pulled away, she glanced back, but the vampire was gone-or at least out of sight. She found herself wondering how often the two weren't quite the same thing.
#
Waiting for Matt to arrive, familiar cooking scents filling the house, Meredith almost felt like she was a teenager again, getting ready for a study session. In exchange for some tutoring in history and math, Matt had agreed to practice baseball with her on the weekends, and the arrangement worked for them both: Matt's grades never dipped below a B, which kept his coaches happy, and Meredith was easily the best female player in the county.
Now, though, she needed Matt's advice, and it was making her antsy. She didn't feel right asking Elena or Bonnie, since they were both still sorting through their respective tangled feelings for Damon. Stefan was the most biased of them all. Even though Damon had threatened his life on multiple occasions, Matt had come to view the vampire with a grudging respect, not unlike that he might have for a feral dog that had bitten him: he was hurt and wary, but he realized that his attacker simply didn't have the same thought process-or capacity for it-that he did.
When Meredith heard a key in the lock, she rose to her feet. "Coming!" The police station Matt was based out of was only a few blocks away, so she had given him a key to her house so he could crash if he needed to without driving across the city to his apartment.
Just as she reached the door, it swung open and Matt stepped inside, taking off his shoes even before he set his grocery bags down. No matter what horrible things he had seen on the job, he somehow managed to keep his upbeat disposition and his belief in humanity's inherent good-as well as his grandmother's lessons in manners, which included taking your shoes off at the door. "It smells incredible in here, Mere." Matt leaned over and kissed her cheek. "When can I move in?" His tone was joking, even though Meredith did keep the spare room in a constant state of readiness for him; some of his earlier girlfriends hadn't understood their bond, but luckily Lily-his latest and so far longest-didn't seem threatened by Meredith at all. If anything, Lily seemed to appreciate that Meredith looked out for Matt; she said it helped her not worry as much, knowing Meredith was concerned too.
"Just as soon as you fix the wiring in the bathroom," Meredith quipped, taking one bag from his arms and heading to the kitchen. Matt's contributions to their nights in were usually of the bought and pre-made variety, but she didn't mind. Cooking soothed her and it was a way to keep her family traditions alive. "How was work?" she asked as she put a bottle of pop in the fridge. It was something she didn't keep for herself, so Matt had a small section of her fridge to use for anything he wanted to have when he crashed there.
"Rough," Matt answered, sorting out the contents of his bag, "but when isn't it? I had to take a kid out of a drug house today. Only three years old, and I'm pretty sure she was being abused. I just hope she doesn't get sent back to her parents." He shook his head and leaned against the counter. "Have people always been this horrible, or are we getting worse?"
Meredith shut the refrigerator door and gave him a gentle hug. Perhaps it was their devotion to the justice system-his to policing, hers to law-that kept them so close while the other Fell's Church friendships were slowly drifting apart. "I think people have always been horrible. We just notice it more now because we hear about it from everywhere." When a timer rang, she smiled and stepped back. "There's dinner. Grab a plate. We can put away the other stuff later." She peered into his bag. "What kind of cake did you get?"
"Ice cream," Matt grinned, pulling out the carton. "So that does need to be put away before it melts. I even picked the one that looked like it had the most crunchy bits."
"You're the best." Meredith put all the components of their supper on the kitchen counter and they chatted as they loaded their plates. She had chosen to turn her so-called dining room into a reading nook, since she was spending more time studying than entertaining, so they ate in her living room, curled up across from each other on the couch while some Olympic sport played out on her aging television. "Thanks for coming on such short notice. I really appreciate it. You're sure Lily doesn't mind?"
Mouth full, Matt settled for shaking his head, then gesturing with his fork to a smaller bad on the counter. "She hopes all's good and she sends her love. And some gourmet cupcakes. Her sister got hired at some fancy bakery and sent a bunch of stuff over, and Lily thought you'd appreciate the sugar boost."
"I'll have to call her later to say thanks." Meredith crossed her legs and balanced her plate on her lap. Matt hadn't asked many questions when she asked him to come over and she didn't want to make him assume the worst, so she jumped right in. "I ran into Damon the other day.
Matt almost choked on his food. "Damon-Damon? As in. . . ."
"Salvatore. Stefan's brother." Meredith rearranged some of the food on her plate, wishing her thoughts were so easily marshalled. "He didn't hurt me or anything. He didn't threaten me or . . . even touch me, really." He had grabbed her arm, but not in a violent way, so she omitted that part.
"So what did he do?" Matt didn't quite look like he believed her but he had strangely been Meredith and Damon's biggest supporter when they started dating, so he clearly trusted Meredith's judgement.
"Not much, really." How could she describe the interaction about the wedding dress in a way that would make sense to Matt? Meredith adored him, but emotional nuances were a foreign language to him. "He . . . sort of asked if I was seeing anyone, but I didn't tell him. I just told him it was none of his business and I went to my car and left."
Matt's blue eyes went a bit icy. "Did he follow you?" He had dealt with his share of abusers and stalkers in his still-young career and he bore them no mercy.
"No. Not that I noticed, anyway. And I haven't got any calls or mail." Meredith didn't state the obvious. If Damon really wanted to get to her, he wouldn't use a phone or an envelope. "I know I should tell Stefan, but I don't want to alarm him."
Matt concentrated on eating for a few moments, gaze drawn on and off by the Olympic coverage. "Did it alarm you? Seeing him again?"
Meredith pressed the tines of her fork against her lip just hard enough to sting. It would have been so much easier if Damon had frightened her, threatened her; then she could push him to the back of her mind, the avoid at all costs zone, and move on. But there hadn't been any fear or concern, not really. The chance meeting had only crystallized something she had been feeling for months: she missed him. "No," she said at last. "I mean, he startled me, but that was all. Once I realized it was him. . . ."
"You still love him." Matt reached over and patted her knee, careful not to jostle her half-laden plate. "That's okay, Mere. You two were inseparable for over a year. Feelings like that don't just disappear, even if you want them to."
Now Meredith focussed on the television, blinking back tears of frustration. What right did Damon have to come unannounced and rile up all these emotions she was finally starting to tidy up and pack away? "It's not like it matters. He doesn't know where I live, and I don't know how to find him, so. . . ." She tried to shrug casually, but it left her with hunched shoulders and a bowed head.
The couch squeaked and Matt scooted over to the middle cushion, wrapping an arm around Meredith's shoulders. "What can I do?"
Nothing, Meredith thought. There was nothing she could do or Matt or even Stefan. Damon had already demonstrated that he dropped in and out of people's lives on his own schedule, his own terms, so it was pointless to worry about it. She mustered up a weak smile and said, "Cut me a piece of ice cream cake?"
Matt gestured to all the food left on her plate. "You haven't finished eating yet."
"More leftovers for you then," she pointed out. "I want cake."
He almost argued, but the allure of tasty leftovers-along with making his friend smile-was apparently enough to sway him because Matt got up, took Meredith's plate, and went to the kitchen. "Your loss. You could have had the best of both worlds, you know: delicious food and cake."
Meredith laughed, but it didn't reach her eyes or even the corners of her mouth. She'd had the best of both worlds once, when she had both Damon and law school in her life, old friends and new. Now she had an emotionally draining job, no lover, and a smattering of friends. The meal she had made was delicious, but at the moment, she needed the sweetness of the cake; the brain freeze would simply be an added bonus, especially if it managed to numb her emotions for a while too.
#
Meredith had told Matt had she didn't think Damon had followed her and that was true. As the days wore on, though, she began to realize she was likely wrong. She would catch a glimpse of a dark-haired man, the collar on his leather jacket up, and think she recognized the angle of the jaw as he ducked against the wind. A breeze would carry the distinctive scent of his cologne. She would hear something like an inner whisper, encouraging her to choose a red dress over a black one or truffles over caramels, but no one was near when she turned to look.
Overactive imagination. It wasn't something most people would have accused her of having, but that was Meredith's self-diagnosis. Since Damon had taken her by surprise the one time, she posited, she was imagining him everywhere so she wouldn't be taken unawares the next time. If there is a next time, she thought as she settled in at her favourite cafe with a dark hot chocolate and spread out an array of university pamphlets. Talking with Matt made her realize that while the pursuit of justice was still important to her, working as a lawyer was holding less appeal by the day. Maybe I should go into teaching. . . .
When Meredith looked up to reach for her cup, she saw that the chair across from her was no longer unoccupied. Damon sat there patiently, one hand curled around his cup of espresso. Is this real? She was half tempted to kick his legs beneath the table to test the theory, but she didn't want to make a scene; good cafes that offered free refills were hard to find these days, and this one was within walking distance from her house. She settled for leaning across the table and whispering "Are you here?" There were other patrons in the cafe, but none close enough to be a concern.
With a smile tugging at his lips, Damon reached over and touched Meredith's left hand. "No ring," he said softly. "No indent, even. Ergo, no wedding."
She heard the question mark he wouldn't say. There were other possibilities, of course: perhaps she was engaged to someone whose beliefs didn't include engagement rings, or maybe she was wearing it on a necklace. She was too emotionally tired to lie, though. "No," she said simply. "I was just admiring a pretty dress. Last time I went through my law books, that wasn't a crime."
"I'll get it for you if you want it." Damon said it so easily, so smoothly, that for a moment Meredith felt like the last two years hadn't happened-that he hadn't stepped out of her life without warning, leaving a huge rift she had never truly repaired.
Meredith pursed her lips as she gathered her pamphlets and bundled them together again. "Damon, it's not that easy. You can't just come back and expect-"
"I love you. I missed you the minute I closed the door." Using his free hand, Damon tilted Meredith's chin up so their eyes met. "But I knew I needed to go."
"That makes one of us," Meredith muttered, but her heart wasn't in it. His hand felt too familiar around hers; his gaze was too comfortable, so easy to fall into and forget herself. "You could have told me. All you had to do was say you needed space and I would have understood. You know that."
Damon nodded. "I know. But I had to give you grounds to hate me too, or else I would never really know."
Meredith snorted a laugh, twitching her fingers lightly beneath his. "You mean I didn't dislike you enough back in Fell's Church? You needed another dose?"
His lips curved, but none of the humour sparked in Damon's eyes. "I wanted to make sure you knew you had the choice. I didn't want you to feel like you had to stay with me to prove some sort of point-to your friends, your parents. . . ." He squeezed her fingers gently before pulling his hand away. "To yourself. To me." Sitting back, he met her gaze again. "You've dated since I left, I assume. I came back once and you were involved with someone named Spencer. Military family. I have to say that surprised me."
Meredith glanced away. Spencer had been the longest-lasting of her post-Damon relationships, almost culminating in an engagement, but the idea of being an army wife-and the possibility of being a young army widow-held her back. "I doubt you holed up in a monastery for the past two years."
"It wasn't an accusation, Meredith." Damon's voice was almost as soft as Stefan's, and Meredith found it disconcerting. "I was hoping you would. There were others?"
"Yeah. Some . . . weren't exactly dates." Meredith started to flinch, but she stopped herself. She wasn't going to berate herself for having a good time; any time she'd had a fling, it had been consensual, so there was no reason to feel guilty or ashamed. "But nothing recent."
Damon reached across the table again, tangling his fingers with hers. "Did you miss me?"
Meredith's head jerked up. "Of course I did! How can you even-"
Smiling, Damon pressed a finger to her lips. "In vino veritas. Except for you, it's in anger. That was one reason I enjoyed riling you up so much in Fell's Church; I wanted to hear you tell the truth, not what you thought you should say."
"Damon." Shaking her head, Meredith slumped back in her chair and shut her eyes. She wished she could say she was at a good place in her life and that there was no room for him in her world anymore, but she was unsatisfied on so many fronts. Maybe it's a sign. Abruptly she stood and put her university pamphlets back in her purse, then downed half her hot chocolate in one ill-advised gulp; heat dug into her palate, prickled along her tongue, and scoured her throat. "I don't want to talk about this here." The public nature of the cafe had finally registered with her, and for a moment she thought she saw the couple that had intervened in front of the dress shop, but she was mistaken.
Damon rose more slowly, abandoning his espresso entirely. "Is that an invitation?"
"For a walk," Meredith clarified, nodding at the barista as she walked out of the cafe. Damon fell into step easily beside her and after a moment, she pressed her fingers against his. Without missing a beat, he joined their hands loosely, giving Meredith the freedom to move away whenever she wanted. "So why are you here? We-I can't just start up again, Damon. It took me too long to get my head right after you left."
"What if we started over?" Damon suggested.
There was only a hint of innuendo in his question, and Meredith grudgingly gave him some credit for that. They had actually had sex before they started dating, and it had been a spur of the moment affair, fuelled by anger-thinking back to Damon's comment about anger and truth made Meredith give a wry grin-and emotional overload and a hint of alcohol. Damon had been making an ass of himself at Elena and Stefan's engagement party and Meredith had pulled him into a utility corridor, intending to shove him out an emergency exit. They had spat a few vitriolic words at each other-Meredith had made some regrettable comment about Damon always being second choice, and he had retorted that at least he got chosen-and then there was some shoving. Somehow that led to a bruising, hungry kiss and then Meredith was against the wall. In less than a minute, her skirt was up, his fly was down, and she was on her way to one of the best orgasms of her life. After they had both climaxed, they had looked at each other with a mixture of dismay and amazement, silently agreeing to say nothing about the transgression to anyone. Damon returned to the party on his best behaviour, Meredith smiled her way through the rest of the evening, and the vampire appeared in her back yard the next night. They built their relationship in reverse: starting with animosity and sex and growing into genuine respect and love. And then he had left.
Glancing over, Damon seemed to sense her train of thought, because he smiled and added, "Not quite literally, though I would be open to that, of course."
With her free hand, Meredith gestured up the road. "I'm guessing you've already figured out where I live."
"I have." He said nothing more on the matter. He could have commented on the assortment of items Matt left at her house on a regular basis or the type of neighbourhood she had chosen, full of residents in their seventies and eighties, but he simply smiled instead.
"If we start over," Meredith began, not even bothering to emphasize the if; Damon would understand. "We need to agree on some things. No more walking out without a discussion. No more . . . emotional experiments without a discussion."
To his credit, Damon winced at the last one. "Agreed. As long as you don't hide your feelings in that bewitching brain of yours and neglect to let them out."
Meredith raised an eyebrow. "Most people keep their feelings in their hearts." It was all feeling too good, too comfortable. How often had she and Damon gone back and forth like after a play or a concert? Not as often as I missed it.
Damon shrugged. "Most."
At a loss for other rules at the moment, Meredith pointed ahead. "I'm the grey brick."
"Of course you are." Damon glanced around at the other houses in the neighbourhood, most with brightly painted siding-colours often both chosen and applied by eager but messy grandchildren-and saw few as well kept as Meredith's.
Meredith stayed quiet until she reached her front porch and unlocked the door, keeping her other hand in Damon's. "Matt and his girlfriend are away on vacation, so no one will be dropping by."
Damon could have easily let Meredith's momentum pull him forward, but he stayed firmly on the safe, public side of the threshold. "Meredith, you don't have to. When I came back, I knew things wouldn't be the same-"
"Please come in, Damon." With a small smile, Meredith tugged him over the threshold and shut the door behind him. "I trust you not to hurt or influence me. And I can always rescind the invitation if I need to."
"If we're making gestures of trust, then. . . ." Damon glanced around at the front windows, low and letting in late afternoon sun. After a moment's hesitation, he stepped as far from any sunbeam as he could and took off his protective ring. While Meredith watched, frozen in shock, he slid the ring onto her wedding finger first; when it was obviously too loose there, he tried her middle finger next and settled on the index finger, where the band still had plenty of room to twist. "Not the ring I would give you permanently," he said dryly, "but I trust the symbolism isn't lost on you."
Meredith gulped as she stared down at the lapis ring. It was Damon's lifeline; without it, he would have been stuck in the Salvatore tomb all those centuries ago, and if he tried to leave her house now, he would burn up and die. "Damon, I can't-" But when she went to take the ring off, Damon closed his hand around her own. "Damon."
"I trust you." Despite the surety in his voice, Damon glanced around the house with a hint of dismay. "Although if all the rooms have this many windows," he added, "I might have to borrow that. . . ."
The house faced south, which didn't help matters, and most of the rooms had at least two wide windows. The only ones that didn't were the bathrooms and the room Meredith had turned into the master suite. The original main bedroom was now her study, chosen for its good light. "Upstairs," she said at last, leading him to the staircase. "Just let me go up first and close some doors." She waggled the fingers of her left hand. "Are you sure?"
Damon shot her a crooked smile as he wended a perilous path between the sunbeams from various windows. "No basement?"
"It's mostly storage and a utility room," Meredith replied. "But there is an old sofa down there. . . ." It had been one of Matt's contributions, back when he didn't want to give anyone the wrong impression and he had thought having a full floor between them would discourage any rumours when he stayed over. Once he stopped caring about such things, the sofa-still comfortable, if a bit worn-had been taken downstairs and used only whenever a drunken friend spent the night. "That would probably be better, wouldn't it?" The only window down there was in the laundry area, and that room could be closed off.
"Most likely." Damon waited to follow until she had gone downstairs and pronounced it safe. The stairs creaked underfoot but seemed sturdy enough, and he wasn't the least bit surprised to find that even Meredith's storage area had an air of elegance to it.
Meredith kept toying with his ring, even as she gestured at the sofa, covered in some old sheets. "Did you want wine or anything? You didn't have any of your espresso. . . ." It sounded foolish even before she said it, but it gave her brain something to concentrate on as she subconsciously moved closer to Damon and he to her.
"Ever the hostess," he murmured, stopping just in front of Meredith and motioning to the sofa. "Ladies first."
"Damon, I-" There were so many things she could have said, so many things she should have said, but none of them wanted to come out. Just being around Damon again after so many years was making her second-guess everything. Before she could stop herself, she rose up and kissed him gently. "I missed you so much," she whispered, voice thick with tears. "Can we talk tomorrow instead?"
For the slightest of moments, she wondered if Damon caught her meaning, but she needn't have worried. His eyes went unfathomably dark as he cupped her chin. "Anything you want. I'm at your mercy, remember?"
Meredith could never say for certain who initiated their fateful first kiss, but she took full credit for this one, wrapping her arms around Damon's neck and pressing close. For all the hunger in the kiss and the impatience making their fingers twitch, though, they took their time. Nearly ten minutes passed before they even started making their way to the sofa, and even then Damon merely pulled Meredith into his lap. They spent almost half an hour that way, simply kissing and murmuring to each other, before they started getting clothing out of the way. It was another hour before their bodies truly joined, and after that Meredith lost any sense of time at all. For the first time in a long while, she felt utterly right, and any regrets she might feel in the morning would pale in comparison to the utter joy that surged through her every time Damon touched her.
The wall clock, long since banished from the kitchen for being distractingly noisy, ticked and clonked away steadily as their reunion continued well into the night, and Damon scarcely missed the familiar weight of his ring on his finger. His hands were far too busy.
#
Even in the basement, far from any window, Meredith sensed the sun rise. Her parents told her it was a hunter's instinct, but it was something she had become attuned to during her relationship with Damon. She was sprawled mostly on top of him, since the sofa wasn't that generous, and the sheets were all rumpled beneath them. Good thing I forgot Matt never took these off, she thought. As Damon began to stir beneath her, she slipped off his ring and put it back on his finger. "Sorry for the cramped sleep," she murmured, kissing him softly.
"Best sleep I've had in months." It was a lie, but a sweet one. When Damon noticed his ring back in place, he seemed slightly surprised. "So we're supposed to talk today."
"Later today," Meredith insisted, rearranging herself on top of him. "We still have some catching up to do."
"Does this," Damon asked, tapping his ring, "mean it could possibly be accomplished in more . . . spacious surroundings?"
"That was the hope." Meredith let out a squeak as Damon grabbed her, lurched to his feet, and carried her up the steps. All was not yet forgiven; she hadn't forgotten how he had left her with no warning, no explanation. But in the intervening years, she had learned to trust herself more than ever, and everything in her was saying yes. She had changed in those two years; there was no way he hadn't as well. Perhaps they had changed into people who were more compatible with each other, perhaps not, but she owed it to herself-the Meredith who had been fucked in a hallway and built a relationship out of it, the Meredith who had been gutted when she had been abandoned, the Meredith who grew out of those ashes-to find out.
Author: pith
Spoilers: VD
Disclaimers: Characters and world belong to LJS. Title comes from a line in "Meeting You at an Underground Station" by Gillian Allnut, which Damon quotes. I had had started this fic back in 2011, apparently, and let it sit, and then Sarah Steffi Santos requested something similar, so I decided to try resurrecting it.
Warnings: brief, vague m/f sex at the end
Summary: It's been almost two years since Damon left Meredith's life.
Meredith had never been the type of girl to fantasize about her wedding. That didn't mean she thought less of Elena or Bonnie for doing so, but it simply wasn't something on her horizon. Between the academic and hunting futures her parents were charting for her, Meredith had barely had time for friends, let alone romance.
It also didn't mean she couldn't admire the trappings. Just because she was unlikely to don a glistening white dress-or cream, or ivory, or whatever the fashion magazines were calling this year's neutral shade of choice-and walk down an aisle strewn with flower petals didn't make her immune to the splendour of it all. It was, she supposed, the closest most women ever got to being the fairy tale princess in their own story, so why shouldn't they enjoy it? The dress in the window before her was a glorious thing, not quite a sari but similar in the way it draped and flowed. Jewels glittered at every hem, every seam, their reflections dancing along the display glass.
When she heard foot traffic increasing behind her, Meredith stepped towards to the store window. Everything on this part of the street was closed or closing, so there was a mass exodus of customers heading back to their cars. The flickering reflections of bright jackets and garish bags flashed in the window, turning the sari-like dress into a veritable rainbow with each passing pedestrian.
The person standing behind her was wearing all black and positioned at such an angle to seem like her vertical shadow. "I didn't get an invitation." The voice was calm and cool, almost casual. "I suppose mine must have been lost in the mail."
Meredith jerked and nearly dropped her bag of gourmet chocolates. She turned so quickly that she startled some passersby, a young couple holding cups from the local cafe. The woman met her eyes with companionable worry. The man went a step further, stopping within reach. "Everything okay here?"
Glancing at Damon, Meredith concentrated on slowing her pulse. "Yeah, we're good, thanks. He just took me by surprise, that's all."
"You sure?" the man asked, glancing between Meredith and Damon. The woman, still holding her gaze, raised an eyebrow and Meredith gave her a nod. It hadn't taken her long to become fluent in the silent language of women once she got out of Fell's Church, and it had saved her-and helped her intervene for others-more than once.
Meredith increased the wattage on her smile and took a step closer to Damon, though she fell short of actually touching him. "Yeah. I wasn't expecting him back from Italy until next week. Given the weather we're having, I'm surprised he didn't stay an extra month, to be honest." She glanced over at Damon, half expecting him to tell the man to mind his own business, but the vampire was remaining on his best behaviour. She just had to hope that would last. "Thanks for checking, though," she added. "I appreciate it."
"Any time." The man gave a little nod and stepped back. "Have a good night."
"You too." Meredith waited until the couple was out of earshot-and no longer sneaking glances back at her-to step closer to the window once more. "Thank you for not starting anything," she said quickly. Forced politeness always made her jaw stiffen.
"Not worth the dry-cleaning costs." Damon glanced down the emptying street. "We were talking about my missing invitation," he added, the strangers and their intervention quickly dismissed and forgotten. "I'll have to know the address of the venue if I'm going to crash the wedding."
There was no wedding in Meredith's immediate future-she wasn't even dating anyone-but he didn't have to know that. They had been involved-dating didn't seem the right word to describe a relationship with Damon Salvatore, not when every look and moment was so intense it could be hard to bear-for over a year, sharing a flat while Meredith finished law school. Then one day, she woke up to a cold bed and half-empty closets. The only explanation was a short note, tucked in the textbook for her first class of the day: all business, Damon simply said that he was leaving but had paid the rent and utility bills for the remainder of the year so she wouldn't have to worry-as if she were an item on a list of chores, waiting to be completed so the next thing could be tackled.
It had hurt. It had stung. It had been made so much worse by the fact that it was Damon and Meredith should have known better-she did know better-and she had let herself believe anyway. She had read in one of Bonnie's magazines that however long a relationship lasted, you needed at least half that time to fully recover. Meredith didn't have six months to spare on emotional anguish, so she had launched herself into her school work-and a few throw-away trysts, when nights seemed too long to endure alone-and emerged stronger and smarter than before. If she was also a bit colder, a bit more removed . . . well, there were worse things to be.
Casting one last glance back at the dress, Meredith turned and started walking. "You're the one who left, Damon. That's what happens when you leave. Everyone else moves on."
Damon could keep pace with her easily, but he stayed a step behind and a bit to the side-not quite out of reach, but rather with a healthy buffer zone in place. "I don't care about everyone else."
"You don't care about anyone, Damon," Meredith shot back, lengthening her strides. "Not even yourself, really."
"When did you start lying, Meredith? It doesn't suit you." Damon matched her pace then, his footsteps irritatingly silent. "Neither does willful ignorance. You know better."
"Don't, Damon. Just don't. You're the one who left." Meredith wasn't sure if she repeated that as a jab at him or to bolster her own defences. "That means you don't get a say in my feelings anymore."
Damon's pale hand, accented with his heavy lapis ring, gestured in Meredith's periphery and she had to stifle the urge to wrench the amulet from his finger and leave him to the merciless sun. "Another lie, clearly. If you didn't care, you wouldn't be walking away."
"I'm walking away," Meredith retorted, turning the corner sharply and making a bee-line for her car, "because I have a life. Responsibilities. Things to do. People who actually give a damn. And they're the ones who deserve my time."
She was walking so quickly that she nearly stumbled when Damon grasped her elbow and turned her around to face him. "Your jacket." With gentle, restrained fingers, Damon started fastening the buttons. "'Tight little/ knots of love/ like buttons/ close your coat'," he recited, taking a solemn step back when he was done, "'from boots to throat'."
"Damon-"
But he said nothing more. Hands up in idle surrender, Damon stepped back until he was leaning against the corner of a small bookshop and he only watched, his gaze as steady and protective as that of the woman who had intervened mere minutes earlier, as Meredith got into her car. As soon as she pulled away, she glanced back, but the vampire was gone-or at least out of sight. She found herself wondering how often the two weren't quite the same thing.
#
Waiting for Matt to arrive, familiar cooking scents filling the house, Meredith almost felt like she was a teenager again, getting ready for a study session. In exchange for some tutoring in history and math, Matt had agreed to practice baseball with her on the weekends, and the arrangement worked for them both: Matt's grades never dipped below a B, which kept his coaches happy, and Meredith was easily the best female player in the county.
Now, though, she needed Matt's advice, and it was making her antsy. She didn't feel right asking Elena or Bonnie, since they were both still sorting through their respective tangled feelings for Damon. Stefan was the most biased of them all. Even though Damon had threatened his life on multiple occasions, Matt had come to view the vampire with a grudging respect, not unlike that he might have for a feral dog that had bitten him: he was hurt and wary, but he realized that his attacker simply didn't have the same thought process-or capacity for it-that he did.
When Meredith heard a key in the lock, she rose to her feet. "Coming!" The police station Matt was based out of was only a few blocks away, so she had given him a key to her house so he could crash if he needed to without driving across the city to his apartment.
Just as she reached the door, it swung open and Matt stepped inside, taking off his shoes even before he set his grocery bags down. No matter what horrible things he had seen on the job, he somehow managed to keep his upbeat disposition and his belief in humanity's inherent good-as well as his grandmother's lessons in manners, which included taking your shoes off at the door. "It smells incredible in here, Mere." Matt leaned over and kissed her cheek. "When can I move in?" His tone was joking, even though Meredith did keep the spare room in a constant state of readiness for him; some of his earlier girlfriends hadn't understood their bond, but luckily Lily-his latest and so far longest-didn't seem threatened by Meredith at all. If anything, Lily seemed to appreciate that Meredith looked out for Matt; she said it helped her not worry as much, knowing Meredith was concerned too.
"Just as soon as you fix the wiring in the bathroom," Meredith quipped, taking one bag from his arms and heading to the kitchen. Matt's contributions to their nights in were usually of the bought and pre-made variety, but she didn't mind. Cooking soothed her and it was a way to keep her family traditions alive. "How was work?" she asked as she put a bottle of pop in the fridge. It was something she didn't keep for herself, so Matt had a small section of her fridge to use for anything he wanted to have when he crashed there.
"Rough," Matt answered, sorting out the contents of his bag, "but when isn't it? I had to take a kid out of a drug house today. Only three years old, and I'm pretty sure she was being abused. I just hope she doesn't get sent back to her parents." He shook his head and leaned against the counter. "Have people always been this horrible, or are we getting worse?"
Meredith shut the refrigerator door and gave him a gentle hug. Perhaps it was their devotion to the justice system-his to policing, hers to law-that kept them so close while the other Fell's Church friendships were slowly drifting apart. "I think people have always been horrible. We just notice it more now because we hear about it from everywhere." When a timer rang, she smiled and stepped back. "There's dinner. Grab a plate. We can put away the other stuff later." She peered into his bag. "What kind of cake did you get?"
"Ice cream," Matt grinned, pulling out the carton. "So that does need to be put away before it melts. I even picked the one that looked like it had the most crunchy bits."
"You're the best." Meredith put all the components of their supper on the kitchen counter and they chatted as they loaded their plates. She had chosen to turn her so-called dining room into a reading nook, since she was spending more time studying than entertaining, so they ate in her living room, curled up across from each other on the couch while some Olympic sport played out on her aging television. "Thanks for coming on such short notice. I really appreciate it. You're sure Lily doesn't mind?"
Mouth full, Matt settled for shaking his head, then gesturing with his fork to a smaller bad on the counter. "She hopes all's good and she sends her love. And some gourmet cupcakes. Her sister got hired at some fancy bakery and sent a bunch of stuff over, and Lily thought you'd appreciate the sugar boost."
"I'll have to call her later to say thanks." Meredith crossed her legs and balanced her plate on her lap. Matt hadn't asked many questions when she asked him to come over and she didn't want to make him assume the worst, so she jumped right in. "I ran into Damon the other day.
Matt almost choked on his food. "Damon-Damon? As in. . . ."
"Salvatore. Stefan's brother." Meredith rearranged some of the food on her plate, wishing her thoughts were so easily marshalled. "He didn't hurt me or anything. He didn't threaten me or . . . even touch me, really." He had grabbed her arm, but not in a violent way, so she omitted that part.
"So what did he do?" Matt didn't quite look like he believed her but he had strangely been Meredith and Damon's biggest supporter when they started dating, so he clearly trusted Meredith's judgement.
"Not much, really." How could she describe the interaction about the wedding dress in a way that would make sense to Matt? Meredith adored him, but emotional nuances were a foreign language to him. "He . . . sort of asked if I was seeing anyone, but I didn't tell him. I just told him it was none of his business and I went to my car and left."
Matt's blue eyes went a bit icy. "Did he follow you?" He had dealt with his share of abusers and stalkers in his still-young career and he bore them no mercy.
"No. Not that I noticed, anyway. And I haven't got any calls or mail." Meredith didn't state the obvious. If Damon really wanted to get to her, he wouldn't use a phone or an envelope. "I know I should tell Stefan, but I don't want to alarm him."
Matt concentrated on eating for a few moments, gaze drawn on and off by the Olympic coverage. "Did it alarm you? Seeing him again?"
Meredith pressed the tines of her fork against her lip just hard enough to sting. It would have been so much easier if Damon had frightened her, threatened her; then she could push him to the back of her mind, the avoid at all costs zone, and move on. But there hadn't been any fear or concern, not really. The chance meeting had only crystallized something she had been feeling for months: she missed him. "No," she said at last. "I mean, he startled me, but that was all. Once I realized it was him. . . ."
"You still love him." Matt reached over and patted her knee, careful not to jostle her half-laden plate. "That's okay, Mere. You two were inseparable for over a year. Feelings like that don't just disappear, even if you want them to."
Now Meredith focussed on the television, blinking back tears of frustration. What right did Damon have to come unannounced and rile up all these emotions she was finally starting to tidy up and pack away? "It's not like it matters. He doesn't know where I live, and I don't know how to find him, so. . . ." She tried to shrug casually, but it left her with hunched shoulders and a bowed head.
The couch squeaked and Matt scooted over to the middle cushion, wrapping an arm around Meredith's shoulders. "What can I do?"
Nothing, Meredith thought. There was nothing she could do or Matt or even Stefan. Damon had already demonstrated that he dropped in and out of people's lives on his own schedule, his own terms, so it was pointless to worry about it. She mustered up a weak smile and said, "Cut me a piece of ice cream cake?"
Matt gestured to all the food left on her plate. "You haven't finished eating yet."
"More leftovers for you then," she pointed out. "I want cake."
He almost argued, but the allure of tasty leftovers-along with making his friend smile-was apparently enough to sway him because Matt got up, took Meredith's plate, and went to the kitchen. "Your loss. You could have had the best of both worlds, you know: delicious food and cake."
Meredith laughed, but it didn't reach her eyes or even the corners of her mouth. She'd had the best of both worlds once, when she had both Damon and law school in her life, old friends and new. Now she had an emotionally draining job, no lover, and a smattering of friends. The meal she had made was delicious, but at the moment, she needed the sweetness of the cake; the brain freeze would simply be an added bonus, especially if it managed to numb her emotions for a while too.
#
Meredith had told Matt had she didn't think Damon had followed her and that was true. As the days wore on, though, she began to realize she was likely wrong. She would catch a glimpse of a dark-haired man, the collar on his leather jacket up, and think she recognized the angle of the jaw as he ducked against the wind. A breeze would carry the distinctive scent of his cologne. She would hear something like an inner whisper, encouraging her to choose a red dress over a black one or truffles over caramels, but no one was near when she turned to look.
Overactive imagination. It wasn't something most people would have accused her of having, but that was Meredith's self-diagnosis. Since Damon had taken her by surprise the one time, she posited, she was imagining him everywhere so she wouldn't be taken unawares the next time. If there is a next time, she thought as she settled in at her favourite cafe with a dark hot chocolate and spread out an array of university pamphlets. Talking with Matt made her realize that while the pursuit of justice was still important to her, working as a lawyer was holding less appeal by the day. Maybe I should go into teaching. . . .
When Meredith looked up to reach for her cup, she saw that the chair across from her was no longer unoccupied. Damon sat there patiently, one hand curled around his cup of espresso. Is this real? She was half tempted to kick his legs beneath the table to test the theory, but she didn't want to make a scene; good cafes that offered free refills were hard to find these days, and this one was within walking distance from her house. She settled for leaning across the table and whispering "Are you here?" There were other patrons in the cafe, but none close enough to be a concern.
With a smile tugging at his lips, Damon reached over and touched Meredith's left hand. "No ring," he said softly. "No indent, even. Ergo, no wedding."
She heard the question mark he wouldn't say. There were other possibilities, of course: perhaps she was engaged to someone whose beliefs didn't include engagement rings, or maybe she was wearing it on a necklace. She was too emotionally tired to lie, though. "No," she said simply. "I was just admiring a pretty dress. Last time I went through my law books, that wasn't a crime."
"I'll get it for you if you want it." Damon said it so easily, so smoothly, that for a moment Meredith felt like the last two years hadn't happened-that he hadn't stepped out of her life without warning, leaving a huge rift she had never truly repaired.
Meredith pursed her lips as she gathered her pamphlets and bundled them together again. "Damon, it's not that easy. You can't just come back and expect-"
"I love you. I missed you the minute I closed the door." Using his free hand, Damon tilted Meredith's chin up so their eyes met. "But I knew I needed to go."
"That makes one of us," Meredith muttered, but her heart wasn't in it. His hand felt too familiar around hers; his gaze was too comfortable, so easy to fall into and forget herself. "You could have told me. All you had to do was say you needed space and I would have understood. You know that."
Damon nodded. "I know. But I had to give you grounds to hate me too, or else I would never really know."
Meredith snorted a laugh, twitching her fingers lightly beneath his. "You mean I didn't dislike you enough back in Fell's Church? You needed another dose?"
His lips curved, but none of the humour sparked in Damon's eyes. "I wanted to make sure you knew you had the choice. I didn't want you to feel like you had to stay with me to prove some sort of point-to your friends, your parents. . . ." He squeezed her fingers gently before pulling his hand away. "To yourself. To me." Sitting back, he met her gaze again. "You've dated since I left, I assume. I came back once and you were involved with someone named Spencer. Military family. I have to say that surprised me."
Meredith glanced away. Spencer had been the longest-lasting of her post-Damon relationships, almost culminating in an engagement, but the idea of being an army wife-and the possibility of being a young army widow-held her back. "I doubt you holed up in a monastery for the past two years."
"It wasn't an accusation, Meredith." Damon's voice was almost as soft as Stefan's, and Meredith found it disconcerting. "I was hoping you would. There were others?"
"Yeah. Some . . . weren't exactly dates." Meredith started to flinch, but she stopped herself. She wasn't going to berate herself for having a good time; any time she'd had a fling, it had been consensual, so there was no reason to feel guilty or ashamed. "But nothing recent."
Damon reached across the table again, tangling his fingers with hers. "Did you miss me?"
Meredith's head jerked up. "Of course I did! How can you even-"
Smiling, Damon pressed a finger to her lips. "In vino veritas. Except for you, it's in anger. That was one reason I enjoyed riling you up so much in Fell's Church; I wanted to hear you tell the truth, not what you thought you should say."
"Damon." Shaking her head, Meredith slumped back in her chair and shut her eyes. She wished she could say she was at a good place in her life and that there was no room for him in her world anymore, but she was unsatisfied on so many fronts. Maybe it's a sign. Abruptly she stood and put her university pamphlets back in her purse, then downed half her hot chocolate in one ill-advised gulp; heat dug into her palate, prickled along her tongue, and scoured her throat. "I don't want to talk about this here." The public nature of the cafe had finally registered with her, and for a moment she thought she saw the couple that had intervened in front of the dress shop, but she was mistaken.
Damon rose more slowly, abandoning his espresso entirely. "Is that an invitation?"
"For a walk," Meredith clarified, nodding at the barista as she walked out of the cafe. Damon fell into step easily beside her and after a moment, she pressed her fingers against his. Without missing a beat, he joined their hands loosely, giving Meredith the freedom to move away whenever she wanted. "So why are you here? We-I can't just start up again, Damon. It took me too long to get my head right after you left."
"What if we started over?" Damon suggested.
There was only a hint of innuendo in his question, and Meredith grudgingly gave him some credit for that. They had actually had sex before they started dating, and it had been a spur of the moment affair, fuelled by anger-thinking back to Damon's comment about anger and truth made Meredith give a wry grin-and emotional overload and a hint of alcohol. Damon had been making an ass of himself at Elena and Stefan's engagement party and Meredith had pulled him into a utility corridor, intending to shove him out an emergency exit. They had spat a few vitriolic words at each other-Meredith had made some regrettable comment about Damon always being second choice, and he had retorted that at least he got chosen-and then there was some shoving. Somehow that led to a bruising, hungry kiss and then Meredith was against the wall. In less than a minute, her skirt was up, his fly was down, and she was on her way to one of the best orgasms of her life. After they had both climaxed, they had looked at each other with a mixture of dismay and amazement, silently agreeing to say nothing about the transgression to anyone. Damon returned to the party on his best behaviour, Meredith smiled her way through the rest of the evening, and the vampire appeared in her back yard the next night. They built their relationship in reverse: starting with animosity and sex and growing into genuine respect and love. And then he had left.
Glancing over, Damon seemed to sense her train of thought, because he smiled and added, "Not quite literally, though I would be open to that, of course."
With her free hand, Meredith gestured up the road. "I'm guessing you've already figured out where I live."
"I have." He said nothing more on the matter. He could have commented on the assortment of items Matt left at her house on a regular basis or the type of neighbourhood she had chosen, full of residents in their seventies and eighties, but he simply smiled instead.
"If we start over," Meredith began, not even bothering to emphasize the if; Damon would understand. "We need to agree on some things. No more walking out without a discussion. No more . . . emotional experiments without a discussion."
To his credit, Damon winced at the last one. "Agreed. As long as you don't hide your feelings in that bewitching brain of yours and neglect to let them out."
Meredith raised an eyebrow. "Most people keep their feelings in their hearts." It was all feeling too good, too comfortable. How often had she and Damon gone back and forth like after a play or a concert? Not as often as I missed it.
Damon shrugged. "Most."
At a loss for other rules at the moment, Meredith pointed ahead. "I'm the grey brick."
"Of course you are." Damon glanced around at the other houses in the neighbourhood, most with brightly painted siding-colours often both chosen and applied by eager but messy grandchildren-and saw few as well kept as Meredith's.
Meredith stayed quiet until she reached her front porch and unlocked the door, keeping her other hand in Damon's. "Matt and his girlfriend are away on vacation, so no one will be dropping by."
Damon could have easily let Meredith's momentum pull him forward, but he stayed firmly on the safe, public side of the threshold. "Meredith, you don't have to. When I came back, I knew things wouldn't be the same-"
"Please come in, Damon." With a small smile, Meredith tugged him over the threshold and shut the door behind him. "I trust you not to hurt or influence me. And I can always rescind the invitation if I need to."
"If we're making gestures of trust, then. . . ." Damon glanced around at the front windows, low and letting in late afternoon sun. After a moment's hesitation, he stepped as far from any sunbeam as he could and took off his protective ring. While Meredith watched, frozen in shock, he slid the ring onto her wedding finger first; when it was obviously too loose there, he tried her middle finger next and settled on the index finger, where the band still had plenty of room to twist. "Not the ring I would give you permanently," he said dryly, "but I trust the symbolism isn't lost on you."
Meredith gulped as she stared down at the lapis ring. It was Damon's lifeline; without it, he would have been stuck in the Salvatore tomb all those centuries ago, and if he tried to leave her house now, he would burn up and die. "Damon, I can't-" But when she went to take the ring off, Damon closed his hand around her own. "Damon."
"I trust you." Despite the surety in his voice, Damon glanced around the house with a hint of dismay. "Although if all the rooms have this many windows," he added, "I might have to borrow that. . . ."
The house faced south, which didn't help matters, and most of the rooms had at least two wide windows. The only ones that didn't were the bathrooms and the room Meredith had turned into the master suite. The original main bedroom was now her study, chosen for its good light. "Upstairs," she said at last, leading him to the staircase. "Just let me go up first and close some doors." She waggled the fingers of her left hand. "Are you sure?"
Damon shot her a crooked smile as he wended a perilous path between the sunbeams from various windows. "No basement?"
"It's mostly storage and a utility room," Meredith replied. "But there is an old sofa down there. . . ." It had been one of Matt's contributions, back when he didn't want to give anyone the wrong impression and he had thought having a full floor between them would discourage any rumours when he stayed over. Once he stopped caring about such things, the sofa-still comfortable, if a bit worn-had been taken downstairs and used only whenever a drunken friend spent the night. "That would probably be better, wouldn't it?" The only window down there was in the laundry area, and that room could be closed off.
"Most likely." Damon waited to follow until she had gone downstairs and pronounced it safe. The stairs creaked underfoot but seemed sturdy enough, and he wasn't the least bit surprised to find that even Meredith's storage area had an air of elegance to it.
Meredith kept toying with his ring, even as she gestured at the sofa, covered in some old sheets. "Did you want wine or anything? You didn't have any of your espresso. . . ." It sounded foolish even before she said it, but it gave her brain something to concentrate on as she subconsciously moved closer to Damon and he to her.
"Ever the hostess," he murmured, stopping just in front of Meredith and motioning to the sofa. "Ladies first."
"Damon, I-" There were so many things she could have said, so many things she should have said, but none of them wanted to come out. Just being around Damon again after so many years was making her second-guess everything. Before she could stop herself, she rose up and kissed him gently. "I missed you so much," she whispered, voice thick with tears. "Can we talk tomorrow instead?"
For the slightest of moments, she wondered if Damon caught her meaning, but she needn't have worried. His eyes went unfathomably dark as he cupped her chin. "Anything you want. I'm at your mercy, remember?"
Meredith could never say for certain who initiated their fateful first kiss, but she took full credit for this one, wrapping her arms around Damon's neck and pressing close. For all the hunger in the kiss and the impatience making their fingers twitch, though, they took their time. Nearly ten minutes passed before they even started making their way to the sofa, and even then Damon merely pulled Meredith into his lap. They spent almost half an hour that way, simply kissing and murmuring to each other, before they started getting clothing out of the way. It was another hour before their bodies truly joined, and after that Meredith lost any sense of time at all. For the first time in a long while, she felt utterly right, and any regrets she might feel in the morning would pale in comparison to the utter joy that surged through her every time Damon touched her.
The wall clock, long since banished from the kitchen for being distractingly noisy, ticked and clonked away steadily as their reunion continued well into the night, and Damon scarcely missed the familiar weight of his ring on his finger. His hands were far too busy.
#
Even in the basement, far from any window, Meredith sensed the sun rise. Her parents told her it was a hunter's instinct, but it was something she had become attuned to during her relationship with Damon. She was sprawled mostly on top of him, since the sofa wasn't that generous, and the sheets were all rumpled beneath them. Good thing I forgot Matt never took these off, she thought. As Damon began to stir beneath her, she slipped off his ring and put it back on his finger. "Sorry for the cramped sleep," she murmured, kissing him softly.
"Best sleep I've had in months." It was a lie, but a sweet one. When Damon noticed his ring back in place, he seemed slightly surprised. "So we're supposed to talk today."
"Later today," Meredith insisted, rearranging herself on top of him. "We still have some catching up to do."
"Does this," Damon asked, tapping his ring, "mean it could possibly be accomplished in more . . . spacious surroundings?"
"That was the hope." Meredith let out a squeak as Damon grabbed her, lurched to his feet, and carried her up the steps. All was not yet forgiven; she hadn't forgotten how he had left her with no warning, no explanation. But in the intervening years, she had learned to trust herself more than ever, and everything in her was saying yes. She had changed in those two years; there was no way he hadn't as well. Perhaps they had changed into people who were more compatible with each other, perhaps not, but she owed it to herself-the Meredith who had been fucked in a hallway and built a relationship out of it, the Meredith who had been gutted when she had been abandoned, the Meredith who grew out of those ashes-to find out.