Hey guys! A little random one-shot for ya!

I'm still working on the next chapter of BTVP, for those who read it, and am hoping to update soon! Wrote this to help clear a little writer's block :)

Hope ya'll enjoy!

The clock on the stove is a red flash of moments ticking by at an agonizing pace.

1:58, 2:19, 2:24

One number after the other, drifting and changing while I sit here on the bar stool in my kitchen, a bottle of bourbon in one hand, and a wedding ring on the other.

It's late and I should be asleep, but this scene feels familiar and I know exactly why.

In a way, I've lived it before.

"Oh that's just two years in…"

There's an empty tumbler next to me and I pour my drink; just enough to take off the edge but nowhere near enough to reach my almost laughable level of human tolerance.

It's past midnight, which means it is officially the date of my wedding anniversary.

Two years ago, Elena Gilbert became my wife, and I discovered a level of happiness I hadn't known existed.

I was the luckiest son of a bitch alive, and every day since has only further proven that, hadn't it?

Last year on this day, I'd taken Elena to Napa Valley in California, for a long weekend of wine tasting and love making at an over-the-top hotel that she had fallen in love with the moment we'd entered the front door.

No drama; no floral patterns.

There had been no shadow of the past diluting our celebrations.

It was perfect.

I was happy.

Tonight however, the shadows are all encompassing, because despite everything I have in my life that makes it worth living; the best woman, a nice apartment, ownership of the bar below us...there is still one thing missing.

The one thing that made this all possible for me.

I take another sip of the drink, reveling in the burn on my throat as it makes its way down.

A sad attempt, to drown the memories as easily as I can the alcohol.

Because the last time I was here, Stefan was with me.

Okay, maybe not exactly here.

It was a house in the suburbs, not a midwestern brownstone, and the vision before me had merely been in my head instead of this reality.

But still, I was with my brother.

I realize now, that the years we'd lived, both together and apart had been ones taken for granted.

Elena had once told me that life was short, immortal or not, and that we shouldn't waste a single moment of it.

I wish I'd heard that advice a few decades earlier; maybe I wouldn't be in the position I find myself in now.

I had wasted so much time with Stefan...years and years of personal exile, wanting so badly to hate and punish him for making me what I was.

And what had come of it?

Stefan's dead and I'm getting drunk on my anniversary.

Part of me feels guilty, wallowing in self pity about my loss, especially when my brother gave up his life for me to have happiness...but there are certain times that the shadows are impossible to forget about.

And tonight, Stefan's voice is echoing in my memory, along with the vision he'd branded into my head.

"Oh that's just two years in…" he'd said.

Words so bitterly declared after showing me just how a human life could send my relationship with Elena on a downward spiral.

Distance from day to day growing between us, until we fractured apart at the seams, ending everything we'd built together in a heated argument of regret.

"Right, because couples stay together forever. They never fight, they never hurt each other, they never drift apart..."

Every fear I'd refused to acknowledge about living as a human with Elena, Stefan had shoved down my throat and made me face that day.

I wanted him here now, to tell him he was wrong, and that I could do better than that, that Elena and I would defy all the odds...but the doubts are so much stronger when the whispers of the past are this thick around me.

Two years of marriage...and Stefan wasn't wrong.

Elena and I have fought. We love each other, but things aren't perfect.

Leaving Mystic Falls, trying to make some semblance of a new life for ourselves; it was a slow, hard climb uphill.

And as Stefan had predicted, distance was an unintended side effect of the path this future had taken.

When Elena isn't at the hospital for her residency, she is knee deep in books and prep work, and I'm learning just how much effort goes into running a business when you can't just compel others to do the work for you.

The days are long and the weeks pass slowly, in ways that are felt entirely different in human perspective.

Not that I don't enjoy my work, or love my life with Elena, I do...but sometimes I miss the past.

I miss my brother and the fact that he'd know exactly what to do or say to pull my head out of my ass and tell me how to make things better.

But he can't do that anymore.

He won't be around to clean up my messes ever again, which means I'd better learn how to use a damn mop.

My deep exhale is nearly drowned out by the sound of the apartment door opening.

I straighten on the stool and my eyes shoot to the clock on the stove once more.

2:37.

Elena comes around the corner, her dark scrubs a crumbled mess from the long hours she'd put in, and her long hair is piled high on top of her head with loose strands falling around her face.

She pauses when she sees me, but a tired smile turned the corner of her mouth, "You're still up?"

I nod my head and arch a brow at her disheveled appearance, "Rough night?"

Her hands reach up to remove the stethoscope around her neck, and the action is so perfectly scripted to the vision in my memory, I know what she's going to say before she even gets the words out.

"Just...long," she sighs, setting the stethoscope on the counter, "I keep having to tell myself a couple more years of residency and I'll be free."

A dry chuckle escapes her, and I can't deny the irony of the moment playing out before me.

This gives a whole new meaning to the phrase deja vu, doesn't it?

And just because I can't help myself from joining in on the cosmic joke, I let myself act out my part.

"Come sit," I offer, bringing the bottle forward, even though I know she's going to turn it down, "Have a drink with me."

Elena's eyes meet mine, and I wait for the words; the same ones playing on a loop in my head.

"I'm actually kind of tired. I'm gonna go to bed."

And I'll be left to wallow in my own self deprecation once more.

"...that's just two years in…"

Elena reaches over and grabs the handle of the bottle, tilting it back to read the logo.

"Bourbon, huh?

Her brown eyes move to my face, searching it, "Must have been a long day for you too, if you're bringing the top shelf home with you."

I meet her gaze, surprised at the change of script.

"Yes," I manage after a second's pause, "Today was...long."

Another little smile, this one sympathetic, graces her face, "This entire week has been a drag, hasn't it?"

My expression still feels frozen by the unexpected detour of the conversation, and Elena steps closer to me.

I'm surprised again when her arms wrap around my neck and her body leans into mine, "I'm sorry, Damon. I'm hoping things will smooth out soon."

Her lips are so full and pouty. Unable to help myself, I tilt forward to kiss them; a short peck.

Just the feel of her mouth, the taste of her, is a comfort.

"Until they do, we have the top shelf here," I offer again, smiling a little now.

Elena glances over to the bourbon, then back to me, "Actually, I really need to wash off. You do not want to know what is all on these scrubs."

She pulls away, kissing my forehead as she slides out of my arms.

Before I can become too crestfallen, though, she motions to the bottle.

"However, if you're still in a drinking mood, grab an extra glass. I'll run us a bubble bath and we can complain about our crappy days together."

She winks, then disappears up the stairs, leaving me feeling a little stunned.

Okay...so maybe not entirely the way I saw this going down.

Feeling myself smile, I take the advice and grab another tumbler before following my wife upstairs.

Our master bedroom has its own attached bathroom, complete with a separate multi-head shower and whirlpool jet tub, which Elena is leaning over when I enter the room.

She watches the water until the bubbles are near the porcelain brim and I rest against the doorway, drinking in the sight of her.

With a quick twist of the nozzle, the water is off and Elena begins undressing at an agonizing pace.

The sight of her curved body makes me forget all about the drink in my hand.

How many days has it been since I was last inside of her?

Four, maybe five? Too damn long.

I sit the glassware down on the dresser and cross the bedroom as Elena straightens.

"Bath's ready," she announces happily as she turns to see me, "Did you get the- mhmm..."

I yank her body against mine, not bothering to be gentle about it and kiss her deeply.

Far from rejecting my advances, Elena melts into the touch, her own arms coming around my waist, holding tightly.

Then she moans into my mouth, and nothing else matters; not the bourbon, not the bubbles, not the shadows or the memories or the long hours of the night.

Because she's here, and I'm here, and we are both alive and we're together, and nothing else should matter.

I pick Elena up effortlessly, never once breaking our kiss, and carry her to the bed where I show her just how much she means to me.

It's some time later before we finally make it into the bath, but luckily the water is still pretty warm.

Elena's back is against my chest and what's left of the bubbles are clinging to her skin as she swivels her legs through the water absentmindedly.

"So," she murmurs, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"About what?" I ask, placing a kiss on the side of her head.

She nuzzles her face into my neck, "About what was bothering you before I came home."

I shrug, wanting to just forget the whole mess in my head, "We don't have to."

There's no response, which I know means she is waiting for me to explain anyway.

This woman is just as stubborn as I am sometimes.

I sink down further into the water with a sigh, "You remember the day Ric and Jo got married?"

An unamused sound comes from her throat and Elena pulls away some to look at me, "I doubt I'll ever forget that."

Oh...right.

"Before everything with Kai happened," I elaborate, letting my fingers drift up her shoulder to her hair, memorizing the curve of her neck, "When you asked Stefan to spend the morning with me and talk me out of being human?"

Elena flicks some water at my face, "That isn't what I told him. I just wanted to be sure that you'd considered everything."

"I know," I assure her, "And I understand why you did, especially in hindsight...but he showed me this. A vision, I guess. Two years into our human lives, and what it might look like," I tug on a strand of her hair, "His version wasn't very optimistic."

Elena's breathing slows and revelation dawns on her, "Tomorrow's our anniversary."

"Well, technically, it's past midnight, so…"

Her head drops to her hand, "Oh my god. I can't believe it slipped my mind! I'm so sorry, Damon."

"It's okay," my hand falls down to her back, stroking the damp skin there, "We've been pretty busy."

"No," she turns and straddles my lap, "Baby, it's not okay. Busy or not, you are my priority. Always. Nothing is more important to me than you."

Her words soak into me, expanding like warmth in my chest and easing the ache there.

"Are you sure?" I can't help but tease her in an attempt to lighten the mood, "I've seen you get pretty googly-eyed at those newborns in the hospital nursery. In fact, just last week you told me that seeing them was the highlight of your day. Hard to compete with that."

She giggles a little and rubs her nose against mine, "True as that may be...I still love you more. I had to live without you once, remember? I didn't much care for it."

"Oh," I pretend to recall, "You mean that time you turned into a witch herb junky, ate half the town, and eventually erased our entire relationship from your memory? Moments before I managed to find my way back to you, might I add. Now that you mention it, I think I do have some recollection of that."

Elena leans away and slaps my shoulder, "Don't be mean. It was tragic!"

"More so if I'd actually died," I argue and she narrows her eyes, "As far as I knew, you did die, asshole. That was the entire problem!"

I chuckle, "Yeah, but I didn't stay dead. Which sort of negates the tragedy."

"Well you took your sweet time getting back to me," Elena points out, "So forgive me for finding a way to cope."

I wrap my arms around her and hold her tighter to me, "As much as I wished you'd chosen a different method, I don't fault you for what you did," her brown eyes are boring into mine and I exhale, "I had to live without you too, remember? Sometimes it felt as if drying myself out would have been better."

My voice slips into the same sad tone as earlier and all the joking stopped.

Elena reaches forward and takes my face into her hands, and I'm surprised by how firm her grip is as she forces me to hold her gaze.

"We went through hell and back to get here, didn't we? But we're here, Damon," she smiles and pushes some hair back from my face, "And even though things are crazy and busy, they're still good. It's everything we wanted."

I nod, because she's right, "It is. And I'm happy with our life…"

"But?" she urges, knowing me too well.

I swallow thickly, "Is it wrong to wonder if we might have…I don't know. Maybe too much was ...no, no it was worth it. It is worth it. But sometimes, I…I just-"

"Wonder if we sacrificed too much to get it?" she finishes for me, somehow understanding exactly where my head is and what I'm trying to say.

"Is that wrong?" I practically whisper.

Elena shakes her head, "Not at all. The paths that got us here weren't easy...and I miss him too. Every day."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, "I hate that he's gone. There are times I feel guilty for being happy, because part of me still thinks that it should have been him instead. But then I feel guilty for feeling guilty, because then I'm wasting his sacrifice...I just feel so lost sometimes, without him."

Elena's long fingers brush through my hair and I close my eyes, "What if I ruin everything and he died for nothing?"

The stroking stops abruptly, "Damon, you aren't ruining anything."

I can feel her stare burning on my face and I force myself to look at her.

There's that determined set to her brows that I love and her pouty lips are pursed.

"I know you're afraid," she tells me, "But you don't give yourself enough credit."

She cups my cheeks with her palms again, "Stefan believed in you; he believed in the man he knew you could be and he wanted you to have the chance to find out who that is. There's no right way or wrong way to do this...it's life, Damon. It's messy and real and we're going to make mistakes and fall down and get back up, because that's what it means to be human. And if you mess up? So what! You don't have to be perfect for Stefan's sacrifice to mean something...he just wanted you to have the chance to live for once...and you are."

I lean into her hands, letting myself be placated by her words.

I'm not sure if I believe them, at least not all of them, but she sounds so sure that I want to think they're true.

Elena is an optimist at heart, and trusting her is easier than listening to the voice in my own head.

"He would be proud of you," she finishes with a kiss on my nose, and I squeeze her harder to my chest.

It hurts like hell tonight, not having my brother.

But he had given me a chance to have exactly this; a human life with Elena, because he'd known that that's what I'd wanted, more than I'd ever wanted anything in almost two centuries of existence.

And now, I had my wish.

Elena was in my arms, choosing me, comforting me, loving me; she married me.

Stefan would be lecturing my ear off if he was here, for ever wasting a single moment of this dream that, at one point, had been his too.

We had lived a long life together, he and I.

Over one hundred years of fighting and making up; of misery and happiness.

It was never going to feel like enough, but the end had come and I had to believe now that Stefan had found peace somewhere.

That he was some semblance of happy, wherever he'd ended up.

Maybe I would find out for myself one day...maybe not.

But it doesn't really matter, does it?

Because death is inevitable, and as a human my days are numbered anyway.

The best thing I can do, for myself and for Stefan's memory, is to live every single day of my life without hesitation or fear or regret.

I have Elena, and Caroline, and Bonnie, and Ric, and a few regulars at the bar that seem as if they would make good drinking buddies.

There's busy days and bills to pay and tired nights that blur into early mornings, but there is also joy.

Elena burning pancakes in our kitchen while wearing nothing but my shirt.

Caroline and Ric visiting with the twins last Christmas and watching the Grinch with my wife at my side and our friends around us.

Naming a new cocktail "Hurricane Elena" because a certain brunette can't handle her liquor and ended up dancing with me on top of the bar.

It's moments like this...with her in my arms, talking about our problems while slightly drunk in a bubble bath.

This is life. Messy and real and mine.

"I love you," I say, drinking in the sight before me with renewed appreciation.

Elena just smiles, "I love you, too, Damon. Happy Anniversary."

Then she's kissing me and the only thought on my mind is that if this is what "only two years" is like, I can't wait to see seven.

Thanks for reading!