Saved By Grace: Chapter Six - The Gospel According to St. Stefan - (6/7)
Damon is very drunk when Katherine shows up at the Boarding House late on Christmas Eve. He hasn't seen Elena since she took off and he did nothing to stop her days earlier, and he's not sure that he wants to see her again.
(Well, obviously, he wants to see her forever, but he's totally not equipped to be anyone's father, much less be the father of Elena Gilbert's baby. It's all the biggest fuck up he's ever been privy to in his 168 years on the planet, and considering all he's seen-all he's done himself even-that's saying something.)
He's never been in a lower place (below rock bottom, if he has to specify) when she saunters in, Elijah trailing behind her, both of them looking around at the empties all over the room with vague interest.
"What happened here?" Elijah asks, and his eyes meet Damon's as though he has empathy even though he doesn't know the reason for all the debauchery. (Like he was just back from a trip out of town, not from months-almost a year-in Original storage.)
"You look like shit," Katherine pronounces, looking down at him.
That had been Ric's assessment when he'd been by earlier with a fatherly lecture. He'd come to ream Damon for being a deadbeat dad first rattle out of the box, and when Damon hadn't argued or even had a sarcastic comment to fling at his best friend, Ric had just put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed him rather painfully considering Damon was much stronger than him. "You can be a shithead about this, but I want you to think about your brother, and your own father, and most of all, I want you to imagine living the rest of your miserable existence knowing you ran out on the chance you have to be better than all of them. Elena knows you don't want it, but she did think you'd at least try, and fuck you if you don't, Damon. Fuck you."
(He looks like shit or he is a shit? Not much difference.)
Damon knows he shouldn't say anything now to Katherine and Elijah, but that voice of reason has been drowning in whiskey and scotch for more than 72 hours, and despite various rounds of puking his guts up (he's had the thought that now he, too, has pregnancy symptoms), he has continued to drink.
(He knows he can't kill himself this way, but maybe he's trying a little anyway.)
"Elena's pregnant," he blurts and they both go still as though he's fired a stun gun at them.
It all unravels (or comes together, depending on how you look at it) from there, with Katherine hoisting him to his feet to get him off the floor and onto the sofa so she can force feed him blood and coffee in an effort to get him back to normal. Elijah starts asking a million questions and by the end of the conversation, Damon is sober enough to realize he should never have told them, but if he hadn't, he would really have no clue about how truly dire the situation is.
"Katerina," Elijah says, and Katherine's eyes leave Damon's face for just a moment. He wonders if the Original has tried compelling her again, though he's sure she's probably managed to get a hold of some vervain anyway. Very resourceful, that bitch. "I need to go make some arrangements, why don't you stay here with him until he's sober." He turns back to Damon then and leans in towards him, making eye contact. "You won't drink anymore, not until we've sorted this problem out."
Fuck. Katherine might be on vervain, but Damon's not. He nods his head because he has no other choice and repeats back the order. (He's drunk enough now it's going to take a while for it to leave his system, even with blood and coffee aiding him. This is the plight of the werewolf in him.)
Elijah tips his chin and exchanges glances with Katherine again before leaving the Boarding House. When they're alone, she pats Damon's arm. "You are truly pathetic, you know that?" Her voice isn't as unkind as he expects it to be and he rolls his head towards the sound. She's sitting beside him on the big sofa that he's draped across like a cheap suit. "Why do you let yourself love so deeply, Damon? It's nothing but a liability."
She seems genuinely curious, and he can't seem to stop himself from replying-he blames the alcohol. "I can't do it any other way. The only way to keep it from being this way is to compel the person, and I can't compel Elena. Well, I did once, but I never would now." He studies her face, at once infinitely familiar and completely foreign to him. "You feel the same way, about Stefan. You know you do, otherwise you wouldn't be going to all this trouble. And you know you could end up dead. Will it be worth it, to save him from Klaus if you get killed in the crossfire?"
"I'm not going to get killed," Katherine replies drolly. "This is a fool-proof plan. All the Originals together are going to be much more capable than your little Teenaged Witch. There's no danger, not really."
"You can't bullshit a bullshitter, Katerina," he says her name in a fairly impressive imitation of Elijah. "You don't trail around after a guy for almost a year, find a way to rescue him, come back to a town where everyone who knows you hates you, and then try to play it off like some every day, ordinary thing. You're no Good Samaritan. You love Stefan, that's why you're doing this."
She narrows her eyes at him. "You want me to confess my love for your brother? I'd guess that would still irritate you."
Damon rolls his eyes. She doesn't get it at all, does she? "I'd have to give a rat's ass about you for that to matter. And I don't. I just want Stefan back."
She purses her lips, obviously weighing her next words before spitting them at him. "Even if it means losing Elena? And your child? Who's the bullshitter now?"
He closes his eyes to break the connection between them and blows out a breath. "There wouldn't be a kid if I'd known it was a possibility. I don't even know how I feel about it."
Katherine sits up and her hand slaps his thigh sharply so his eyes pop open again. "I told you in Arizona what Klaus was up to! When did you know you were a werewolf?"
"Around the same time-but I obviously didn't make the connection between that and myself," he says derisively, shoving her hand off his leg.
"The Damon Salvatore I fell in love with was all about babies and happily ever afters, remember? Remember when you would go on and on about our future? You were devastated when I told you I could never have children."
He stares at her because it's all so very odd, and he's still drunk, and he can't believe she's reminding him of that foolish boy he'd once been. Except, that her memory is long and correct, and that was exactly the way it had been. The way he'd been. But that was a long time ago, and of the two Salvatore brothers, Stefan is the one who would make a good father.
(Well, Stefan pre-blood bender craziness, that is.)
There is some masochistic part of him deep inside that can't help but know that bringing Stefan home is the right thing, because if ever there was a time that his brother needed to get his shit together and step back into the place he carved out for himself here in Mystic Falls, now is the time.
Damon will protect the woman he loves, and the child she carries. And if he has to, he'll step aside. He meant what he said when he told Katherine he'd give up Elena for Stefan. He wasn't being noble, and he wasn't lying. He's always been a placeholder, even if Elena doesn't realize it. When the day comes that she does...well.
He realizes Katherine is still watching him intently. "You'll never be able to do it," she says, as if she can read his thoughts. "You love her more than you ever loved me. And you hated Stefan for 145 years for what happened with me-he told me all about it. You really think you've grown so much you can do it now?"
Again, there's a lack of derision in her tone, just honest-to-goodness curiosity. Damon shrugs. "Maybe I haven't grown, maybe I've reverted. Remember when you thought I was sweet and innocent?"
Her lips twist into a smirk and she shakes her head. "No one's that good."
"Katherine, real love isn't always about getting what you want. You know, I might have been happy if I knew you were alive and safe out there somewhere, but I spent all those years trying to get your ass out of the tomb."
She watches him appraisingly. "So, you'll be happy to let Stefan waltz back in here and take the life you've built?"
No. "What difference does it make to you what I do or think or feel? You know when he comes back to his real self, he's not gonna want anything to do with you."
Centuries of practice isn't enough to keep the emotion from quickly flying across her face before she schools her thoughts. She sets her jaw and says nothing; that's possibly the first time ever, in the history of the whole fucking world that Katherine Pierce has been stymied with words.
Strangely, Damon doesn't feel any victory. "It doesn't matter," he finally answers for both of them. "We're bringing him home; it's the only thing we can do."
In the zenith of his pleasure with Elena, at the moment when she states It’s supposed to be us, me and you, forever, and then falls apart all around him, he can believe anything is possible. Mostly because he's still a little drunk, and sex always makes him much more optimistic, but especially because Elena's tears and words and kisses seem to chase doubt away like the fluttering of angel wings.
But it's when they're standing in front of their merry little band of misfits that he looks at her and sees. In that moment, he really lets himself hope in a way that he never has before. She's got whisker burn across her face, light red marks that slope down her throat and disappear into the collar of the sweatshirt she threw on over her pajamas. It's probably a ridiculous notion, but there is something kind of primal about her actually being marked by him, in that way. (Since his teeth sinking past her creamy skin isn't an option.)
He didn't do it on purpose, but he just hadn't thought to shave while he was drowning his sorrows.
She grimaces at him commiseratingly as Caroline leaves to go back to her mom's house for "Christmas morning" and the rest of them make their way back to bed, since everyone else seems to sleep at the Gilbert house now. It's coming up on 7am, but Damon hasn't had any real sleep since they fought, unless you counted the times he passed out, and he's practically dead on his feet. She tucks him into her bed and climbs in beside him after she's removed all of their clothes. He looks at her questioningly and she just says, "I read some stuff about skin on skin contact being important in relationships," and he doesn't argue because who in their right mind would?
He falls asleep with her leg thrown over his and her head on his chest.
He wakes her by kissing his way up the insides her thighs. She moans softly, and her hands automatically sink into his hair, but then her eyes pop open and she gasps, "They'll hear me." Damon assures her that everyone's downstairs now, because it's almost noon, and her fingers relax, pushing him down instead of pulling him away.
So he uses his tongue to give her a Merry Christmas orgasm, and she's very appreciative, even though he's sure his enthusiasm is in part due to scraping up the delicate skin of her inner thighs there much like he already had her face.
She doesn't seem to mind as she’s sprawled in the middle of the bed, panting softly with a patina of sweat across her bare breasts-which are larger. He learned that this is a result of pregnancy. He had always thought she was just fine as she was, but he definitely likes this aspect of difference in her body. Not only does she look different, she's more sensitive. Just rubbing his thumb over one of her nipples causes a much bigger reaction than the same action a few weeks ago had.
He could really just look at her all day, but he ends up leaning over her to kiss her mouth and her hands slide over his back until she's gripping his ass. She opens her legs and wraps them around his to pull him inside so he doesn't even have to feel bad about the fact that he really hoped this is how it would end up.
He doesn't always give to get, but right now, he really needs to get.
Some time later, he comes back to consciousness by the feel of her fingers in the hair along the nape of his neck. She's lying quietly, content, beneath him, and when he stirs, her legs tighten around him in an odd sort of hug. He's still inside her, though now he's soft.
He eases himself off of her, and she turns into him automatically, snuggling into him in a way that feels ages old. As if they've been together for so long, not just a matter of weeks. He's the first to speak. "I have a bunch of presents for you, back at the Boarding House."
"Mmmm," she says, and her lips move against his throat. "There might be a few things downstairs for you too. But I don't really need anything more than this."
She sort of sucker-punches him with that statement so that all he can do is press a kiss to the top of her head and draw her closer. "I love you, Elena," he says.
"I love you, Damon."
Her mouth opens into a little O of a kiss against his Adam's apple. When her tongue flicks out, he presses his hand to her shoulder. "Don't start again, or the people downstairs who want to eat turkey are going to be very annoyed with us."
She giggles and leans her head back to look at him. "Okay." She smiles at him, and he feels like the luckiest guy on the planet. Unable to resist, he presses his mouth to hers, and they share a deep kiss that could definitely lead to more, but they both break away before it can.
She rolls from the bed and starts for the bathroom. He's just watching the curve of her ass until she turns around to look at him. "You comin', or what?"
"That's a loaded question," he smirks.
"We'll be faster if we shower together. Just keep in mind the hungry people downstairs." He follows her, and that's the only reason he doesn't end up pressing her against the tiles. Well, that, and she brings up the whole You're not going to compel Lydia thing and they start bickering.
They're still arguing when they finally go downstairs fifteen minutes later, after they’ve brushed their teeth, and he’s shaved. Jeremy and Bonnie act like they can't hear them, but Alaric watches avidly, his eyes dancing, and Damon barely restrains himself from punching the guy in the face.
(Ric thinks this whole thing is adorable, Damon being a daddy, etc. No, he hasn't actually said the words, but at this point he knows what Ric's thinking without Ric ever saying a word. It pisses Damon off. He liked it better when Ric’s focus had been more about Damon not hurting Elena rather than Elena coaxing new and better behavior out of Damon.)
Just as Elena says for the fifth time, like he doesn't understand English, "Lydia wears a vervain necklace, she doesn't need to have her memories altered," she also turns a delicate shade of green, and her eyes widen in horror. She turns away abruptly and runs from the kitchen with her hand clamped over her mouth.
Perplexed, Damon looks around and Jeremy gestures like, duh, man and says, "Morning sickness."
"It's almost one o'clock in the afternoon," Damon states.
"Morning sickness is actually a misnomer," Ric shares, his eyebrows waggling. "It can happen any time of the day.
Damon is down the hall and up the stairs very speedily and as Elena dry-heaves into the commode, he gathers her hair into one of his hands and holds it back for her. She moans, gasping as she leans her head against the arm she has draped over the toilet seat. "This kinda sucks, huh?" he asks.
She half-giggles, half-gags, and Damon rubs his free hand over her back. She's in a fluffy terry-cloth robe, but he can feel the curve of her spine beneath his hand. "I just want to keep you safe, both of you," he says in a soft voice. "Let me make sure Lydia doesn't accidentally give away something to someone we're not expecting. I'll just protect us, I won't make her forget everything she knows. Okay?"
Elena turns her head towards him. He’s not sure if the tears in her eyes are caused by emotion or projectile vomiting. "Okay," she says, nodding.
"Okay?" he parrots back in surprise. "Really? You mean it?"
She nods again. "Yeah, I mean it. If I'm going to feel this cruddy for this kid, we've gotta keep him safe." She sits back, leaning against the tub and wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
He lets her go, but stays in his crouched position across from her. "You think it's a boy?" he asks.
"What?" She looks up at the ceiling like she's concentrating really hard on not throwing up again. "I don't know, why?"
"You just called it a him; you said 'we've gotta keep him safe.' Slip of the tongue?"
She shrugs. "Damon, it's the size of a grape. There's no way I could know what it is." Her mouth quirks, and she tilts her head, examining him. "Why? Do you want a boy?"
Now he shrugs, feeling slightly dizzy at the prospect of any child being his child. "I don't know, I've never thought about it." He pauses and asks, "Would it be totally lame to say I just want it to be healthy?"
A watery smile accompanies a head shake, and then she moves slowly across the space separating them to hug him. "No," she whispers. "Not lame at all."
Two weeks after Christmas, they pack up and go back to Durham. Jeremy and Bonnie stay in Mystic Falls, as planned. Ric, Caroline, Katherine, Elijah, and a few of his family members set out just a few days after the holiday to find Klaus and Stefan. Caroline calls Elena every other day or so to report in, but Ric calls Damon every day at the same time. Nothing yet, he says every time, but nobody's giving up, and that's what matters.
(Damon appreciates that Ric calls even when there's nothing new to say; it's like he just knows that Damon needs to know since he's not actively out looking himself.)
Damon learns that Elijah’s compulsion of him not drinking had been non-specific enough that he can now have a glass or two when the anxiety of fatherhood looms over him. On the other hand, he finds he really doesn’t want to drink as much, and that thought is so horrifying that he just ignores this other new personality trait. (He’s got so many these days, it’s easy to pick and choose.)
Lydia is thrilled with her new housemate, and asks Damon a million questions about being a vampire until he compels her not to; he and Elena fight over that later and he defends himself by saying he needed to compel her about not giving away important information anyway, what harm is it if he makes sure she doesn't drive him crazy while they're living together?
(Because Lydia thinks he’s so fabulous, it’s easy to get her take off her vervain necklace long enough to accomplish his goals.)
Elena frowns mutinously at him, and then has to run and throw up, so it sort of takes any seriousness out of the situation. What's funny is that before, Elena's morning sickness had actually been occurring in the morning, but now it's moved into the early afternoon, and she blames Damon. When he argues that it can in no way be his fault, she tells him it's all his fault and then bursts into tears.
Lydia says, "Hormones," with an all-knowing look like she's been around many pregnant women. (Well, undoubtedly she's been around more than he has.) Damon thinks it's probably a good thing he is not left alone with Elena too often. In a fit of rage, she might stake him yet.
Some days, if not for Ric's nightly phone call, he could forget about Stefan altogether. The process of going to doctor's appointments with Elena and taking care of her while she's in school and studying becomes the best little project he could never have guessed he'd have. He takes great pride in cooking for her, and making sure he knows all the things pregnant ladies shouldn't consume. He likes giving her footrubs as she starts gaining weight and she's overly tired. (In one of the many pregnancy books he's picked up, they all suggest footrubs to keep circulation at its best.)
His real coup, however, is an item called Ginger Gum. He finds it at the local drug store, and it promises to calm the nausea that all pregnant women feel, so he buys it, figuring it’s worth a shot. Elena makes love to him that night with more fervor than he’s probably ever seen from her just because she feels so much better.
Mostly, he finds a great deal of joy in loving Elena completely, totally, as unabashedly as he's ever done anything.
He's making Chinese stir-fry late one afternoon when Lydia gets home before Elena does. She comes in the kitchen and assists him by chopping up some vegetables. Then he notices she hasn't moved on to her room and the "mountain of homework" she has to do; she's just standing there watching him as he dumps stuff into the wok.
"What?" he asks as he sprinkles soy sauce into the pan.
"I just really admire you, you know. I mean, aside from your incredible hotness, I think you're probably like the best boyfriend ever. Which means I'm raising the bar around here. Whoever ends up with me is going to have to be at least half as thoughtful as you."
Damon scoffs. "Come on, stop making me sound like a saint. Though," he lifts his eyebrows and tosses a charming smile her way. "I won't argue the hotness point."
Lydia laughs and then reaches in, plucking a peapod from the pan. "It's funny, I'm sort of getting used to you now. I don't get breathless every time I look at you anymore." (This girl has no kind of filter, even with compulsion, so really, he doesn't think Elena has any reason to be mad at him about that.) "But you know, what makes you really attractive? How much you love her. I mean, it's obvious in the way you look at her, and the way you talk to her, and the way you treat her. That's just the way it should be, you know?" She throws her stolen vegetable into her mouth and chews thoughtfully. "I just want to be like that with whomever I end up with. I want people to be able to look at us and see the love."
Damon turns the heat down on the burner and grabs the noodles he already cooked, throwing them in with the meat and vegetables. "So when you look at Elena, you can tell she loves me?" he asks, trying to be as nonchalant as a question like that doesn't really allow him to be.
"Oh, yeah," she says dreamily, leaning against the counter. "When we first were roomies, she would mention you, all the time, I mean, I guess you spent a lot of time together as friends or whatever, but it wasn't what she said about you, it was how often you were there, and how her voice sort of got soft sometimes when she shared stuff. I was pretty sure, and I told her I thought she was in love with you, but I knew for sure when you showed up the first time. When she walked through the door and saw you sitting there?" She throws her hands up and flicks her fingers out as she sings, "Baby, you're a firework!"
He laughs because it's funny-she's funny, this girl who says whatever she thinks, and yet accepts oddities like WolfVamps and the doppelgangers they impregnate-but he busies himself with stirring and doesn't confirm or deny anything she's just said. Lydia's hand touches his arm before she finally leaves the kitchen. "You have nothing to worry about."
She gets all the way to her bedroom door before she turns around. "I mean, when your brother comes back. You've got nothing to worry about then."
He glances over at her. "Yeah, I got it. I knew what you meant."
She cocks her head. "Yes, but you don't believe it. But you will. You'll see." She closes the door behind her and Damon focuses really hard on the green, red, and orange concoction in front of him.
(He tries to ignore the way his heart soars in his chest at her pronouncement.)
At the end of February, Ric calls Damon at just the same moment that Caroline calls Elena. They look at each other and then Elena reaches for his hand as they both hear the words, "Klaus is dead, for good," from two separate entities.
Elena starts crying, and then leaves the room, going into the bedroom for privacy and Damon says to Ric, "Let me talk to Stefan."
"Yeah, about that..."
"What?"
"He's not ready to talk. He's alive, and he's gonna be okay, but he isn't yet, and he doesn't want to talk to you, or Elena, at least not for a while."
"Well, fuck Stefan. Tell him, I've had enough of what he wants, and it's my turn now."
"Damon, be reasonable," Ric admonishes.
"Excuse me?" Damon barks. "Have you met me? I'm not reasonable. And that's my fucking brother. Put him on the goddamn phone, Ric."
"He won't talk to you, so deal with it. I'm going to help him and Caroline get set up and then Bonnie, Jeremy, and I will go home. Stefan wants to detox away from Mystic Falls."
Damon doesn't think he's ever been more pissed at his brother, ever, in 168 years of practically being pissed at him the entire time. Of course, it's all about Stefan, and it's whatever Stefan wants. Fucking Stefan. This is the story of his life. So he picks at the one thing left to him. "Jeremy came with Bonnie, even though I told him to stay put?"
"Looks like you're the boss of exactly nothing," Alaric says, and then he's laughing, and Damon figures it's more hysterical relief than it is Ric thinking his comedy routine is that funny.
"Well, I knew you needed a witch to kill an Original, I didn't think you needed a snot-nosed brat."
"You know he can't hear you, right?"
Damon just blows out a breath and nearly crushes his cell phone to bits in his hand. Anger races through him and no amount of deflecting will get rid of it. "You tell Stefan," he growls into the phone, "that as soon as he's feeling 'up' to it, he better fucking call me, or the next time I see him, I'll stake him. Period."
"I can do that," Ric says, and then his voice sobers. "Seriously, Damon, he's okay. He's gonna be okay."
"Yeah. Thanks," Damon spits, feeling anything but grateful.
He hangs up his phone and goes into the bedroom to find Elena. She lays on the bed on her side, a pillow stuffed under her head. She too is finished with her phone call, her cell resting on the bedside table. He leans against the doorjamb, and their eyes meet. "You okay?" he asks. He’s calming down; he can feel his temper receding as he looks at her face.
She nods, even as tears slip down her cheeks. "Are you?" she asks.
"No," he snipes. "Stefan won't fucking talk to me."
"Me, neither. Caroline said he needs time. She's gonna stay with him, help him." Elena pats the bed beside her and beckons to him until he comes and sits next to her.
He takes the hand she has stretched out towards him. Squeezing her fingers gently with his own, he shakes his head. "How long is that gonna be? And how long is Tyler gonna be all sure, Caroline, take care of the junkie vampire? I'm sure he's annoyed that she's been gone for two months already."
Elena's brow creases as she looks at him. "Tyler and Caroline broke up, Damon. Before Christmas."
"They did? Where was I?"
She smiles sadly. "Not up on the gossip, I guess."
He pauses, thinking back over the last few months, examining the moments they'd been around his house. "They were always at the house, hanging out, spending time together in a place neither of their mothers would think to look for them. If they were having problems, wouldn't I be the first to know?"
"It was just a couple weeks before Christmas. I'm guessing your mind was on other things." The smile that spreads over her face this time has that womanly pride that makes him fall in love with her all over again. "They had been fighting a lot, about the tension between their mothers, and they just weren't willing to choose between each other and their parents. It was really hard. I don't imagine Caroline wanted to confide in you."
Damon snorts. Despite Caroline having seen him at some of his lowest points with regard to Stefan, they weren't the best of friends; there were some things a girl just couldn't forget, and an apology was hardly going to make up for what he'd done to her back in the day. It was enough that Caroline didn't bad mouth him to Elena and had willingly gone to help his brother. He could never repay her what he owed her. "No, I don't imagine she would." He looks down at his fingers entwined with Elena's. "They really loved each other. I'm surprised they'd call it quits."
Her voice is soft. "Sometimes things don't work out the way we plan." He doesn't allow his eyes to rush back to hers; instead he focuses on the weave of her fingers through his. The fear that never quite recedes seems to fill him up again, brimming at the back of his throat like bile. "Sometimes they go bad; sometimes they go way better than we expect."
His lips twitch into a smile, because he knows she's reading him like a book. "Says the girl who throws up every day." Slowly, he raises his eyes to hers.
"I haven't puked at all today," she says, pressing a wad of gum forward with her tongue to hold between her teeth for his benefit. Her smile turns into a grin that threatens to crack her face.
He leans down, rubbing his lips over the curve of her mouth. When she is happy, when she shows her joy over carrying his child, he feels as giddy as a five year old in a candy store. Elena's hand caresses his cheek and she says quietly, "Stefan will eventually want to talk to you. You'll see."
She pulls him into a hug, and he doesn't say what froths on his lips: he almost hopes she's wrong.
When Damon reflects back, he can see the course of Elena, broken into three acts: when she came into his life and started affecting changes in him that he didn't even equate with her; when her blood literally changed him from Vampire to WolfVamp, creating something unforeseen by anyone in centuries of myths and legends. And lastly, now, there is the whole other part of him-the part dubbed daddy that he can't wrap his mind around. Like, his obsession with Elena's growing stomach, and his inability to walk into a store without finding himself in the tiny clothes section, or the fact that every time he looks at her, getting rounder and rounder, he can't stop the smile that breaks out over his face, or the joy that floods through him that he's still so wary of fully embracing.
It's such a distant, faded memory, the human version of himself that wanted a family, that during the first few months of her pregnancy, it's just this foreign concept that makes him feel half-crazy. Then one night, they're lying in bed and he's got a hand on her abdomen and he has this flash, a remembrance of petticoats and little brown babies and his mother coming in from the slave quarters where she'd spent hours with someone in labor. She'd smiled tiredly at him and patted his cheek and whispered conspiratorially, "In a few months you'll have your very own baby brother or sister."
He'd only been five, and things like that were not spoken of, so he didn't entirely understand it at the time, but then Stefan had arrived, and his mother had gone away. He loved his little brother ferociously, especially in the months following his mother's death when his father couldn't look at the child, and there had only been their mammy around to comfort and care for them both.
In the late afternoon of the day Damon and Elena see the ultrasound of their little girl, Damon ends up locking himself in the bathroom of their apartment because it's all beginning to flow in his head in this weird way. The baby is all tied up in Stefan, either in the memory of joy when his brother came into his life, or the idea that this is probably wrong, and Stefan should be the father. Then to compound it further, he both wants his brother to come home, and he never wants to see him ever, ever again.
The building nausea in his stomach reminds him that Elena has long since passed this phase of pregnancy, but it doesn’t make the feeling go away.
He's pretty much ready for the WolfVamp Psych Ward. Elena knocks on the door and asks him if he's okay and he lies and says he'll be out in a minute, but that's probably been twenty minutes ago now, and suddenly the bathroom door flies open and Lydia is standing there with a credit card in one hand and a glass of Scotch in the other. "See," she says, looking over her shoulder at Elena once they spy him sitting on the edge of the tub. "Just freaking out."
She slaps the glass into his hand and gives his back a thwack-thwack pounding and then she disappears, leaving Elena standing there watching him. She rubs her hand over her belly, which, at twenty-two weeks has popped out quite nicely. There is no mistaking what her condition is when he looks at her.
His primordial urges have increased with her size. Some part of him finds power in the sexual bond between them that has grown stronger throughout her pregnancy because of the heightened hormonal plane that she exists in now. He can make her orgasm with just the right caressing movements of his fingers and tongue against her nipples, and they've been forced to get inventive with the way they have sex as her middle section has gotten bigger.
He's learned to take her from behind in a way that even now, just sitting there on the edge of the tub sipping scotch scared out of his head with all the prospects of them and fatherhood and everything, he's getting hard remembering their private moments together. He can't decide if desperation has driven him to the point where he's more generous as a lover than ever before, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is Elena sweaty and satisfied on the pillow, her fingers digging into the hair at the nape of his neck and her breath shuddering out of her lungs.
She steps inside the bathroom and shuts the door behind her before coming over to climb in his lap. He knows she can feel his arousal, but she says nothing, just buries her face against his shoulder and whispers, "Talk to me."
"I'll be okay," he murmurs, but he's not sure he believes it himself, so it's unlikely that she'll buy it either.
"What are you most afraid of?" she asks, her fingers skimming up and down on the back of his neck.
Losing you. Wanting this so much that the only thing that can happen is for it to be taken from me. "That I won't be good at it. I'm a vampire-werewolf Hybrid, Elena. I shouldn't be anyone's father."
"But you are. You’re going to be the father of a beautiful little girl." She sits up so that she can cup his face in her hands and look into his eyes. "And what you're really afraid of is how much you love her already, right? She's not even here yet, and she's got your heart in her tiny hands." She brushes her lips over his gently, ever-so-softly, and his jeans get even tighter. "But you'll be amazing, I know you will. I've never known anyone who gives love so freely. You know what will be the hard thing? Her ever finding anyone who loves her as well as her daddy does."
Damon covers her mouth with his and the empty tumbler makes a loud thunk as it hits the fluffy bath mat beneath his feet. It rolls away and his hands grip her head to get his mouth over hers completely so he can kiss her more thoroughly than he ever has before. Then he tips her head back, or maybe her neck just gives out on its own, but he ends up sucking the skin over her throbbing pulse up against his teeth. He knows he's leaving a mark, but it's so much less than what he wants to do that he makes himself be satisfied with it.
She's wearing a loose, blousey button-up, and he slips his hands under the lapels, tugging them apart until the buttons all snap off and she's filling his palms, her breasts spilling from the confines of her bra as he unhooks it gracelessly. He growls her name against her throat and she arches into him, whimpering his name in return, with desperate little puffs of air hitting his forehead. "Please, please, please," she cries, and her fingers press against the back of his head, urging him to do what, he's not sure. (Won't let himself think about.)
He yanks his mouth away and strums her nipples until she's wild in his arms. She bucks against him urgently, and when he can tell she's right on the verge, he sends one hand into the soft pants she's wearing to find her wet and creamy center. He barely gets two fingers inside her and his thumb over her clitoris before she's keening into his shoulder, grasping him tightly with her arms as she spasms into his palm.
They're both breathing heavily, and Damon's happy to let it end there, considering Lydia must be able to hear everything. Faintly he picks up a radio and running water, which must mean she's doing the dishes in the kitchen.
Elena kisses his ear and then slides from his lap, kneeling between his legs on the bath mat. He reads the intent in her eyes as she pulls his belt loose, and he'd protest more if he were not himself; but he is, and her mouth around his cock is pretty much the equivalent to the sweet words she uttered minutes ago that started this whole thing. He's not sure he is the way she sees him, but there is something about her believing it that makes him think he can be. As she lovingly laves the head of his penis, though, all those doubts and fears scatter, and his world narrows to her lips and teeth and tongue and the way her eyes communicate so many intensely emotional things as she looks up at him. He uses every bit of will power he's got to keep his eyelids up so he doesn't miss a single solitary movement, and the sensation of seeing it while feeling it causes him to grip the edge of the tub beneath him in an effort to hold out longer, for it to go on and on, for his mind to be blown by the image of Elena before him in such a trusting and completely giving way.
He loves her more than he can comprehend, more than any words he knows can convey, and the actual physical ecstasy of it made manifest between them is enough to destroy him, every time. It's metaphorical, but it's categorically real at the same time. When the moment is upon him, he touches her face in warning, but she doesn't move away; she swallows with him deep in her throat and he comes so hard he sees stars and swirls of colors light years away.
It's all Elena, every time, and no matter what he thinks he can do in more rational moments, it's in that quiet non-existent space of time right after he's given her everything he has that he knows he'll burn up in the sun before he'll ever watch Stefan take his place.
Elena finishes her classes with relatively good grades (four As and one B) and passes her first year of college in mid-May. She and Damon return to Mystic Falls because she's decided she'll take at least one semester off. The baby is due in August, and, she tells Damon, "There's no way I can manage a new baby and new classes within weeks of each other. I need time to adjust. I can reapply for the spring semester."
Damon's fine with it; it was never his idea that she go to school, and he's never cared about it one way or another. He knows it's important to her, because it was important to her parents, to Jenna, and now to Ric of course, not to mention she feels she's setting an example for her brother who will graduate from high school in June.
As they hug Lydia goodbye (she's on her way home to Florida for the summer), Damon invites her to come out to Mystic Falls in a month's time. "June's fun in the burg. We always have a summer Festival in celebration of the founding of the town. Come up and you can stay at my family's estate. See what Elena's got herself into." He bumps his hip into Elena's and she mock glares at him. Now that Klaus is dead, Damon has stopped worrying about danger lurking around every corner, and if Lydia wants more of it, she’s welcome to it, as far as he’s concerned.
Lydia agrees, her eyes shining with excitement. What she really cares about, of course, is meeting everyone she's heard tell about and saying inappropriate things to them, most likely, but in reality that's why Damon invites her. He can't wait to see Bonnie's face the first time Lydia insults her.
Elena transfers her medical information to a local doctor and they continue to make birthing preparations, except that Elena doesn't want to buy a crib, car seat, stroller, or anything. "It's bad luck," she says, telling him of some Jewish friend she made in one of her classes who had a superstition about buying things prior to the baby's birth.
"But I've bought like a million outfits for this kid," Damon says, looking at her across the bench seat of the Camaro. "You're just bringing this up now?"
"Clothes are okay, but the big stuff-I just want to wait, okay? Please, just humor the crazy, pregnant lady."
"Done and done," he says quickly, remembering just the day before when a meltdown had occurred over him packing up food from the cupboard that Elena wanted to give to the local homeless shelter. These days, he never knew what would set her off.
She smiles at him, reaching her hand over to squeeze his leg, but before she makes contact, she gasps loudly.
"What? What?" he asks, nearly putting them into the car in the lane next to theirs when he looks over at her and she's clutching her belly in both hands.
"She just kicked me, really hard!" Elena says, laughing. "Pull over!" she shouts and Damon finds a hole in traffic to get across to the shoulder of the highway. He throws the car in park and stretches an arm towards her.
His hand hovers over her stomach and their eyes meet. For a few weeks now, Elena's been able to feel flutters, things that Damon probably could feel due to his heightened senses if ever the baby would move when he was trying to feel it. Elena had joked with him that his daughter must be shy because she never did move in those instances; it was of course just another issue he had tucked away in his Things to Worry and Obsess Over pile, but now, sitting on the side of I-85, Elena grabs his hand and pulls it down low on her belly. "There! There! There!" she shouts every time the baby moves, and he feels every single movement.
"It's just like the doctor said!" she exclaims. "She's totally mobile now, Damon. Oh my gosh! Can you feel that?"
He nods because his throat has closed off in a strange manner. Words feel superfluous, anyway. He just leans into her, kissing her mouth long and hard and his daughter dances under his hand the entire time.
Two weeks after Founder's Day, Elena says, "We're going shopping!" and drags Lydia behind her towards the front door of the Boarding House. "I need bigger clothes, unfortunately."
"Have fun," Damon says, waving a hand. Lydia gives him a pleading look, as though she doesn't want to go shopping (again) but he pretends not to notice. He loves Elena, more than life, but he sure as hell doesn't want to go shopping himself, and Lydia has ended up staying more than a week longer than they originally planned because she, Bonnie, and Elena get along so well.
He treasures the silence in the Boarding House after they've gone, and he buries himself in his book.
A couple of hours later, he gets up to get a glass of scotch and then heads into the kitchen to start dinner. He lives a totally mundane existence now, and there are moments when he thinks about the ludicrousness of him cooking dinner for his girlfriend and her house guest, but the reality is, he's incredibly happy living a mundane life.
Whoda thunk it? Certainly not him; not ever.
He's pulling chicken from the freezer when he hears someone in the house. He waits for the chatter of women to reach his ears before they appear in the kitchen, but nothing follows that, and just as he's about to call out to Elena, the swinging door opens and someone says his name.
Someone he hasn't seen since the beginning of November-when his iPhone got staked; someone he hasn't spoken to either, because even though he's been in "rehab" and Caroline's called in the slow but steady progress for several months, Damon has not actually ever had a phone call from his little brother.
It is now the end of June, and he's standing in the kitchen, frozen meat clutched in his hand and his brother standing in the doorway, looking exactly the way he has since 1864, except for his clothes.
"Hello, brother," Stefan says, a bit of a salute in his eyebrows as he nods in Damon's direction.
"Well, well, well," Damon replies, tossing the chicken on the counter and shutting the refrigerator door behind him. "If it isn't the infamous Stefan Salvatore."
They just stand there, staring at each other, both still and tense, as though at any moment this meeting could go sideways and they might end up staking each other.
Damon moves first, picking up his drink from the sideboard where he'd set it down minutes before. "Want a beverage?" he asks.
Stefan nods stiffly. "That might help."
Damon leads the way into the library, and pours his brother a tumbler full of the same scotch he's sipping on. He stretches his hand out towards Stefan and when Stefan reaches for it, Damon jerks it back, forcing Stefan to come closer. When less than two feet separate them, Damon sets both glasses down again and grabs his brother in a hug. Stefan's frame relaxes slowly, and then his arms wrap around Damon. They stand that way for a very brief space of time.
Then Damon slaps the back of Stefan's head as he releases him. "I told Ric to tell you that if you didn't call me, I'd stake you the next time I saw you. You testing that threat?"
Stefan reaches for his drink and throws it back before answering. "No," he says, slamming the glass down on the table top. "I figured if you were gonna stake me, it wouldn't matter if I warned you I was coming or not." He folds his arms over his chest. "And," he adds. "If you're gonna do it, the least I owe you is no resistance."
"Oh, but what's the fun in that?" Damon asks with a smirk. He rests his hips against the back of the sofa and studies his brother. He's leaner again-obviously back on animal blood-but his eyes are focused and steady, and that more than anything helps Damon know that his brother, the one who has driven him nearly insane with his self-righteousness, is back. "You look good," he says, giving Stefan an appraising once over. "How are you?"
Stefan nods. "I'm well. Much better. Haven't had any human blood in almost four months." He glances around the room, and Damon knows what he wants to ask, but he just can't make it easy for him.
"You're feeling back to your old self then, huh? Ready to lecture me and look down on me from your uppity horse? I'm still drinking human blood, but I haven't killed anyone by feeding since Rose died." He shrugs when Stefan's eyes land on him again. "I mean, as long as we're reporting stuff like that." (He doesn't count Klaus's helper witches whose necks he snapped; they deserved to die.)
"No, yeah, I heard things had changed around here. And I can tell. Feels different. You seem...different. More...human. It's not pretending, is it, Damon? To embrace that part of you that once was."
Damon finishes off his drink, a burst of liquid courage down his throat that probably shouldn't loosen his tongue the way it does. "I think you called it something worth living for?"
Stefan shakes his head, smiling sadly as he looks down at the floor. "There he is, same old Damon."
He has a moment, just a flash really, of sympathy for Stefan. He should be more generous; the truth is he has the girl, and he knows it. He knows that Elena loves him, that what they are preparing for has bonded them in a manner that changes everything. And, the truth is, now, he's been with Elena longer than Stefan ever was.
It's on the tip of his tongue to apologize, to retract the snarky words, to be the better man that Elena has somehow cultivated out of the bitter, angry vampire that Stefan used to know. But before he can actually verbalize any of that, the library door bursts open and Lydia and Elena come into the room. "Damon, wait until you see this adorable-"
And then she freezes, her arm halfway up in the air and a blue, footed pajama with animal ears on the hood dangling from a small plastic hanger in her hand. Stefan's head had turned toward the sound, but he just stares at her, the length of the room between them. It's all something out of a bad movie: the tragic flash of eyes-Elena looking at Damon, then Stefan; Damon looking at Stefan then Elena, then Lydia, who is standing just behind Elena, confusion etched on her face. But when her eyes connect with Damon's, something registers, and he knows the second she understands because her mouth drops open and a gasp cracks through the room like a gunshot. Stefan's eyes dart to the stranger he doesn't know, then back to Elena, and he takes a step towards her. His gaze can't help but fall to her distended belly, covered by a form-fitting t-shirt today that's almost too short for the girth of her stomach.
Damon stops breathing when Elena drops the baby clothes and runs into his brother's embrace.
He turns away when she wraps her arms around Stefan's shoulders, and he wishes he couldn't hear her crying and laughing and blabbering incoherently as she hugs him.
Chapter Seven: Revelation (The End)