Author's Note

July 2018: I originally took this story down when it Amazon made a deal with the TVD copyright holder to allow fanfic writers to legally publish books of their TVD fanfic under the Kindle Worlds program. They assured us the program would soon expand from the USA to the international market, and despite the over 100 emails I harassed the Kindle Worlds department with, that never happened. This month, Kindle Worlds closed its doors and the rights to my stories came back to me, and now I'm happy to be able to share these stories with my international readers again, sex scenes and all.

Thank you to all the amazing readers who bought the books from Kindle Worlds and helped support the thousands of hours I put into crafting these stories. It's been a wonderful ride and I'm so grateful to all of you. That foray into publishing helped launch my original fiction career, and now I have original fiction books up for sale! If you'd like to see any of those, check out michellehazenbooks dot com.

Either way, enjoy this and all my other fanfic stories that will soon be back up on the site (Desperate Love trilogy (S4 retelling), Happily Ever After: Salvatore Style (book length epilogue/prank war following Desperate Love), In Time We Trust trilogy (S5 retelling), and Sanguine Veritas.)

Note if you haven't read Desperate Love

Happily Ever After: Salvatore Style is a sequel to my Season 4 re-write Desperate Love, but if you haven't read that, fear not. It was a crazy ride of a story but the end result is similar to what the Vampire Diaries world would be like if Elena/Damon and Stefan/Caroline had all gotten together at the beginning of Season 4. So, to summarize: Jeremy isn't dead, the Gilbert house is still standing, Carol Lockwood isn't dead, all the hybrids aren't dead, there's no Silas and the vampire cure was a spell not an energy drink. No one took it. And there's no sire bond. See, things are already looking up in this universe and we haven't even gotten started yet!

Also in Desperate Love, we met Kyle, who is the gay bartender at the Mystic Grill, a 68-year-old vampire hunter of the Five who looks like a 30-year-old Tom Hardy after a serious Get Ripped! workout program, and happens to have most of his skin covered in tattoos of musicals that serve as his own personal Ten Commandments. He's part of the family now and I promise, you're going to love him.

Desperate Love took off from canon after episode 4x06 "We All Go a Little Mad Sometimes" so if there are details in this story that differ from the show, the explanations are all to be found in The Desperate Love Trilogy. Also, Happily Ever After is a series of mostly stand-alone chapters with variable time lapses in between, so pay attention for external cues about time passing.

Chapter 1: Roommates

ELENA

I'm lying next to my boyfriend, un-arguably the most beautifully masculine creature inhabiting this universe, and for the first time, I'm not interested in jumping his bones.

"YeeeeesssssyesyesyesyesyesYYYYYEEESSSSSS!"

The familiar female voice cuts through all the walls in between our two separate wings of the house as easily as a chainsaw through lipstick.

"We've got to get our own place," Damon says.

"You'd be bored without Caroline, and you'd miss Stefan. Besides, you love what she did to the living room, even if you won't admit it."

"She put a stuffed unicorn on my mantle!"

"I was more talking about the furniture. Besides, you know that's Caroline and Stefan's special unicorn from when they first got together."

"OhmigoshohohmyGODGODDon't-yes-ooooohhAHHHHHHHHHH!"

"I just hope that unicorn's at least eighteen, because it's getting a hell of show right now," Damon says.

"Gluing it to the bedpost was a nice touch."

"Now she can't move it back to my mantle. Plus, it was the only place left to put things other than the ceiling. Between Caroline's wardrobe and Stefan's packrat tendencies, I'm surprised they found enough open space to get it on."

"They're probably on top of three decades worth of Time magazines right now," I say, only half-joking.

There's a thump and Stefan groans as if he's in terrible pain.

Damon chuckles. "Think the stack just fell over."

"Oh, rightthererightrightrighttheeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeDON'TSTOPDON'T!"

"Have you ever read the Lord of the Rings trilogy?" Damon asks.

"No, but I saw the movies. Why?"

"Do you remember when Legolas and Gimli were counting off the Orcs they killed throughout the battle scene?"

"Harder! HARDER! Oh, fuck me, FUCK ME! Please, Stefan, pleasemoremoremoremore!"

"I need to get him an instructional manual," Damon says. "If a woman has to tell you to fuck her harder, you're doing it wrong."

"I do remember saying please a lot." I grin.

"That's completely different."

"So wait, what was the Lord of the Rings thing?"

"We should have an orgasm-off." Damon rolls onto his side and smiles down at me, his glacier-blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "You and Caroline can count off."

"Are you kidding?" I ask, alarmed. "I'd be permanently brain damaged by the time we won. Don't you remember what happened that time I had seven in one afternoon?"

"You started talking again after an hour and a half."

"You make it sound like I didn't try. It's kind of scary when you genuinely can't remember how words fit together."

"At the time, you thought it was pretty funny." He slides a hand across my bare stomach. I shiver in response.

"AAAAHHHGGGGHHHHOOOOHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

The goosebumps from Damon's touch fade.

"You know he makes that same horrible sound when you gut-stake him," I tell Damon. "God, that's creepy."

"That's it," Damon says.

He climbs out of bed and pulls on a pair of jeans. I watch him with the same disappointment that always afflicts me when he gets dressed. "Where are you going?"

"To compel a contractor. I should have soundproofed this house years ago. It's just such a pain in the ass finding a method that doesn't destroy the antique materials."

"Right now? But it's after midnight."

He leans over the bed and gives me a quick kiss. "Baby," he says, unsmiling. "I take your turn-offs seriously."

# # #

DAMON

The sounds of hammering and sawing echo through the house, punctuated by the occasional curse. I'm sick to death already of babysitting a bunch of rednecks with hammers who have no respect for the sanctity of hundred-year-old cherry wood paneling.

"Elena?" I call into the stairwell. "Are you up there? Have you seen the box full of insulation samples?"

It's annoying having to search for her like a human but the whine of a table saw makes it impossible for me to locate her any other way.

"Elena?" I jog upstairs, stride into our room, and immediately spot her dark head. I frown, because the bathtub isn't exactly where I expected to find her. Especially since there isn't any water in it.

Her shoulders are shaking, but she's not breathing. A hundred ways that she could be hurt or dying or have been attacked run through my head in the two steps it takes me to reach her side.

I drop the notebook and folder of papers I was carrying and reach for her.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

She looks up at me through tangled brown strands of hair and tries to smile.

"Hi."

"Why are you in the bathtub?" I ask as gently as I can. She's fully clothed and curled up with a pile of crumpled Kleenex, which I find mildly alarming even though she appears to be unharmed.

"I'm fine," she squeaks, her lips trembling as she forces another smile for me. I pull her to me as best I can with a bathtub between us, sheltering her head in the crook of my neck. Her cheeks are wet with tears; as soon as I touch her a sob breaks loose and I feel saltwater start to seep into my collar.

"It's nothing, Damon, I swear. I'm just being silly." She pats my chest and hiccups. "Don't worry about me, okay? There's nothing you need to fix."

I know exactly who I need to fix, I think with a glare toward the opposite wing of the house.

I hand her my handkerchief, kissing her forehead. Kleenex is for peasants.

"Be right back."

She bites her trembling lip and clutches my handkerchief to her chest, nodding.

It doesn't take an intellectual giant to figure out what's got her upset. Caroline's been flashing a diamond the size of a softball around the house for the last three days, and in those three days, I've walked in on her telling the story of how Stefan proposed to five different people. Which means poor Elena has probably had to hear it at least twice that often.

I told him the fucking marching band was overkill.

My stomach clenches unpleasantly against the thought of her jealousy. I know she doesn't want to be the one Stefan proposed to. I know that and she knows that, but she's still crying in the bathtub.

I close the door of the study so no one will see what I'm retrieving.

At least she's crying in my bathtub. I pause when I consider that, softening a little as I realize that it's become our oasis, the place both of us retreat to when life sucks a little more than normal. Because neither of us ever leaves that tub unhappy, especially now that we usually use it together.

I shake my head. The bathtub is definitely magic. If we ever move, I'm taking it with me.

I slide my prize into my pocket and straighten my shoulders against a wave of nervousness.

Elena's blowing her nose when I come back. I wait for her to wipe her eyes before I enter the room, because I want her to be seeing clearly for this.

She looks up and gives me a shaky smile. Without a word, I pop open the small velvet box in my hand and her eyes grow about three sizes.

I watch her face instead of the box, because I know exactly what's in there. Even if I hadn't spent a month with a jewelry designer perfecting the setting and three months searching for just the right color diamonds, I've definitely spent a few quiet nights staring at it since it was finished.

It has two marquise-cut diamonds, one a beautiful chocolate-cinnamon with flashes of gold and the other a brilliant, icy blue. They are set one atop the other and slightly offset, with golden Celtic knotwork weaving them tightly together, sweeping up to a graceful point at the top and bottom of the ring.

Another tear streaks down her cheek, but it looks different from the others. She glances up at my face, then back at the box, then slowly reaches toward it.

I snap the box shut. "Nope. I'm not asking. We're not there yet." I squat down next to the tub so I can take her hand, twining our fingers together and bringing them to my lips for a protective kiss. "But I don't want you to think that there is any scenario, ever, anywhere, where Caroline Forbes is loved more than you are," I tell her, even though it is perfectly obvious.

She chokes back a laugh, a smile dawning across her face.

"We don't need to get engaged after five minutes like a pair of horny teenagers wearing purity rings. We've got forever."

Elena comes halfway out of the tub, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing so hard that I feel my collarbone flex dangerously.

I pull her the rest of the way out until she's straddling me on the floor. She pulls back and looks at me, her eyes full of love and un-shed tears.

"So no," I say, "I'm not asking yet. But until I do, me and the little box" –I waggle it enticingly— "aren't going anywhere."

She sniffles and nods, lying down on my chest with her hands tucked up between us like she does when she's feeling vulnerable and I wrap her up and hold her, even though the tiles are digging into my tailbone.

"You know it's not going to hurt my indestructible ego if you admit that you're also upset that you and Stefan's epic love wasn't epic enough to merit a proposal." I keep my voice matter-of-fact.

"That's ridiculous," she says in a snuffly little voice.

I just wait.

"It's stupid," she finally says. "It's irrational. You know I don't want to be married to Stefan. Even if you had never been born I wouldn't. As much as I love him, we don't exactly bring out each other's best qualities."

"I know. But just because you don't want to be married to him doesn't mean it doesn't hurt that he didn't ask."

Elena burrows her head deeper into the curve of my neck and kisses the underside of my jaw. "Why do you have to be so much better than me? You always put me to shame."

"Yes, Elena," I say with heavy sarcasm. "I am better than you. It is about time you acknowledged my moral superiority."

I stroke her hair, gently untangling it with my fingers and smoothing it against the soft knit of her shirt. I wait, listening to her ease a little more with every passing moment. I love the way she melts into me when I hold her, until every curve of her body mirrors mine, until our lines start to match.

Eventually, I sigh and sit up.

"I've got to get back to those damn construction workers. They're not used to working with materials that can't be replaced at Home Depot. Come down with me?"

"I'll be there in a minute," she promises, swiping the heel of her hand under one mascara-smudged eye. "Just let me wash up."

I kiss her one more time. "You know I was a hit man for the mob once? So you'd better get to work on your body count if you want to live up to my sterling example."

"Whatever, Damon," she says. "Keep trying to cover up the fact that you're incredibly sensitive and generous. It's totally working."

"Believe what you want, crazy girl." I stroll out of the room. "I loved that damn job. Vampire version of a free-range chicken farm. Guilt-free all you can eat."

"Why'd you quit, then?"

I turn back and give her a crooked smile. "Those mob guys are bossy as all hell. So I ate one."

The sound of her laugher follows me out into the hallway and I toss the ring box in the air and catch it again, smiling to myself. That didn't look like a 'no' face to me. Ten points for the home team.