Note: I've received many requests to continue this story, so I've decided to add another chapter. The story remains loyal to the purpose of showing Elena's reaction to the bamon dynamic. Once again keep in mind that it's not a delena story even if they do have a relationship, and that bamon are not right out romantic.

#

His mouth is hot and his chest is hard under the palms of her hands, her instinct is to fist the fabric of his shirt and pull him by force on top of her on the red sofa of the sitting room. He laughs against her mouth at her eagerness and she shifts her leg to rub it against his hardness. He's not ready yet but it will not take much.

His mouth travels along the curve of her neck, sucks on a point that always manages to drive her into a frenzy and her hand reaches immediately for the button on his jeans. The sound in the background doesn't even register in her brain, and she is confused to feel him pulling back.

"What?" she half moan, half whines, desperate to have him.

"My phone," he says, pushing himself back on his knees. Elena pouts at him and grabs his shirt again to pull him on top of her, "Don't. It's not important," she whispers seductively, but his hand wraps around her own and he makes her loosen her grip. "It is," he says, "It's Bonnie."

The phone rings just once more before he answers the calls, walking away from the room to answer cheerful and unaffected by the interruption. Elena pushes her hair back from her face and pulls herself into a sitting position. Her blood was rushing away from her brain just a few moments ago but that's not the only reason why she didn't realize his phone was ringing. It was because Bonnie's ring is different from all others.

She would ask him why, but she doesn't want to look bothered. She's really not.

#

Caroline was supposed to show up twenty minutes ago and she's getting impatient now. Elena pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, gives a glance to her watch, smiles at the passing waiter and looks at the door expecting her friend to push it open and walk in like she's on a runaway. She doesn't, so Elena pulls her phone out of the bag and counts the ring until her friend answers.

"Yeah?" she hears her say, voice hoarse and tone distracted. Elena is confused, "Caro, are you coming?"

Someone laughs in the background and she hears a thud and can clearly picture a pillow hitting him in the face. "Elena, I'm so sorry," she rushes to say, "I- I forgot," she explains, and in a hushed tone, which is absolutely useless when your friend is a vampire, she hisses, "Stop touching me!"

"I thought you told me the opposite just a moment ago," she can hear Stefan say, "You know I'm a gentleman, I would never deny your wishes," he says, standing from the bed only to be pulled back onto it. Elena can hear the sound of the bed springs – she wishes Caroline had changed the bed like she wanted to, because now everything is way too graphic for her.

"I'm so sorry, Elena-"

"Yeah, that's fine. We can meet tomorrow." Her mouth is closed in a thin line and she massages her temples with two fingers. The conversation can't end fast enough, and it seems like Caroline thinks the same because she can hear the sound of the interrupted line before she can finish her goodbye.

She left Damon to his volatile mood and it takes her a few minutes before heading back. Still, the turn of events is not too bad. Moody Damon always provides the best sex; he teases her, dominates her, and if she pushes enough she can have him with a touch of violence. She strangely likes that.

She opens the first button of her camisole as soon as she's inside the front door, smiles a predator smile thinking about the way he'll entertain her today, walks with her feline step inside the house and up the stairs once she finds the first floor empty.

Elena is almost purring when she hears Bonnie's voice.

"We shouldn't have," she sighs, sounding distressed.

"I think it's too late for that, Bon-Bon," Elena can hear her friend's nickname rolling on her boyfriend's tongue so easily that her stomach hurts. "Com'on, it's good," he says, reassuring, his voice warm, his interest clear. "Keep going… I like it."

"You do?" Her voice is uncertain, but Elena can tell that her resistance is giving way very fast. Damon has that effect on people.

"Don't think so much, you were so into it just one minute ago. I want you that focused again," he tells her with a sigh, "Uh."

"That's just because you're vain and self-centered," she reminds him with a light tone.

"Look at me, you got me a humid mess and I'm still too handsome to go unnoticed. The only thing I can possibly do is face my destiny with bravery."

"I'm touched," she replies, flat, trying to sound annoyed with his attitude.

"Oh, I'm sure," he replies, "Now use those pretty hands of yours to do your magic."

Elena is about to throw up, but not before she's witnessed the scene with her own two eyes. The betrayal burns in the middle of her chest. In her head she can hear Stefan's laugh and she shakes her head unable to clear the thought. She holds herself up with one hand on the banister and rushes towards the voices of the two lovers. It happens so fast that her brain fails at processing the scene she sees it: the door open, Damon looking at Bonnie's face through the reflection of the mirror, amused by her concentrated expression as she holds a pair of scissors in her right hand and tries to cut his hair.

"You'd think you had me on a surgery table," he says, grinning up at her though she's not looking at him. "I'm the one that should be scared. Witchy is holding a weapon over my head and I could screw up and piss her off any moment."

"That's true, so hold your tongue," she suggests, her fingers sliding up into his wet hair.

"I've been asked to do many things with my tongue. Maybe I could show-"

"Don't even finish that sentence!" Bonnie scolds him as she raises her index fingers in his direction.

The shameless flirting and the innuendo is his trademark, nothing that should shock her, but Elena's instinct tries to tells her to fear this, to fear the naturalness with which it leads back into their banter like a security blanket.

"You clip my wings," he accuses her, childishly, looking away, finally noticing her standing in the hallway.

"Hey there," he calls her, waking her from her trance, "Back already? Did you suddenly realize how boring Blondie is?" he asks without waiting for an answer. "Bonnie thought my hair was too long. I think there's no way anyone can make me stunning-er but I decided to let her try."

"That's not even a word, Damon," Bonnie tells him, rolling her eyes.

"Have you seen me?" he asks, "Clearly it should be a word. I don't see any other way to describe me."

"Aside from conceited, narcissistic, and cocky?" she asks, grinning at him though the mirror.

"Those work too, I suppose," he answers.

Their exchange has a certain rhythm. It works the same way a comic routine does. Or a love song, Elena realizes. And once again she feels like throwing up.

#

She can smell the scent of his skin, the bourbon and the musk filling the air and reaching her nostrils because of the vapor coming from the shower through the open door of the bathroom. It reminds her that he's there, with her, and that they've worshipped each other's body in the unmade bed behind her and she shivers at the memory of the pleasure he gave her.

She's in love and so she's stupidly insecure sometimes. She's still too young and too lucky to know any better, but the memories Bonnie returned to her gave her a new strength, a new certainty. Damon's always loved her and always will.

Elena smiles, glancing towards the open door, already missing his presence, his arms wrapped around her, the smell of his skin all over hers, so she stands from her dressing table, putting down the hairbrush and goes to open one of Damon's drawers. She caresses the fabric of his shirts with one hand, happily choosing a piece of clothing to wear herself. It's another way to have him over her, one way like another to remind him that they belong together. He'll see her wearing nothing else but his shirt and he'll decide to return her the favor by reminding her too, with his mouth, and his tongue, and his hands and—

One particular item stands out through the dark, intense colors he usually wears, it's a white sweater with a v-neck. She pulls it out and lets it hang in front of her, the size so petite it wouldn't even fit her properly. It really doesn't take a genius to figure out who it belongs to. There's still a hint of Bonnie's favorite perfume on it and she's ready to tear it to shreds when he walks out the bathroom, messing his wet, black hair with one hand while a towel dangles with precarious stability on his hips.

Elena turns her head to him and lowers the hands that are holding up the sweater.

"Why is this in your drawer?" she asks, her voice strained with the effort it takes her to not break. He doesn't even notice, just turns on his heels and let the towel drop to his feet to slip inside his jeans uncaring of using underwear.

"She left it here a few weeks ago," he says, distracted with the hard task of choosing between a blue shirt and a dark blue shirt, "When everyone wrongly deduced that they could stay here and dirty my carpet with pizza."

"You could have told me, I would have given it back to her," she says trying her best to keep her composure. Her lips twist in a sneer despite herself, and they are face to face when he turns around. She has the distinct impression that even what he's wearing smells like Bonnie. Her stomach sinks to a new low.

"Why?" he asks, as if he's unable to understand the reason, "If she ever gets cold while she's here she can wear it and doesn't have to worry about bringing stuff over."

Elena opens her mouth to protests but he uses the opportunity to kiss her – she's not sure if it's out of love or the desire to silence her. She has no time to ask before he walks out of the bedroom saying, "I have to meet my brother. He's so head over heels with Caroline that I can barely get him to listen to me when I speak. I can't miss the chance," he explains, "It's now or never!" she hears him calling from the stairs.

Her bones are chilly when her brain betrays her and she can hear a little voice taking space in her skull, saying Welcome to the club.

#

"Are you angry with me?" he asks annoyed, leaning next to her against the kitchen counter. Elena gives him a patient smile as he looks at her like she's conspiring against him, "Because I don't see any other reason for the sudden urge to bore me to death with whatever-his-name and my little brother in the same night."

"I'm trying to get to know the guy Bonnie is dating. It's only right that I look out for my friend," she reminds him, a little too cheerfully for his taste. "I know you want her safe, too. Now we can see for ourselves what kind of guy he is."

"I could have told you that. He's a loser," he growls, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his gaze when he hears Bonnie laugh.

"I actually like him," she says, conveniently forgetting she's barely exchanged two words with him and all she can't really tell if he's a mama's boy or a serial killer. Or both. What she knows is that he is perfectly attractive with ashy blonde hair and green eyes. "And what's important is that she likes him."

"I thought her tastes had gotten better, clearly I was wrong," he mutters under his breath like he's offended by her choice.

"Come on," she smiles at him grabbing his arm to drag him into the sitting room with the others.

The guy, Oliver, looks over and Elena can see Damon from the corner of her eye faking – very badly – a smile. Probably to her benefit (or Bonnie's).

"Everything alright?" Oliver asks sensing trouble. He is intuitive, but not intelligent otherwise he wouldn't have asked.

"Yes, I'm delighted by the company," Damon answers offering a saccharine smile that has Bonnie rolling her eyes.

"Damon has a serious constipation problem, try not to rub it in," the witch tells her date, gaining a smirk. Stefan and Caroline don't hide their amusement but the exchange is interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

"So funny, witch" he comments starkly, grinning at the boy's reaction to what he's probably presuming to be an insult.

"That's a term of endearment, of course" he explains, eyeing her.

"Yes, it is," she nods, "If you hear me call him an ass that's a term of endearment, too," she says, sticking out her tongue.

"That's because it's the part of my anatomy that's most dear to her," he explains in a hushed tone

"Sure, man." Oliver is slightly uncomfortable with their odd conversation but he smiles nonetheless.

"Don't mind them, they get easily bored and chew each other for sport," Stefan cuts in to reassure him.

Elena is so annoyed by how useless Oliver is turning out to be that she wants tear at his jugular and see if he's good for food at least, but she controls herself; and before the temptation becomes too great, he manages to redeem himself.

"It's okay. I am like this, too, with my sister," he says, shrugging away Damon and Bonnie's intimacy. "She can be so childish, we always end up arguing on stupid things. And sometimes we argue just because it's like our duty, you know."

Damon's expression goes blank. There's a slight tension pulling at a nerve under the jaw and nothing else. Only Bonnie looks taken aback by the insinuation before she manages a tiny smile. Elena supposes she never considered him that way. She and Caroline, they have always been like sisters to Bonnie but Damon has always been too busy being her personal headache to be anything else before they went to the other side. Maybe now she will admit him into that category. It would be perfect, everyone would be happy.

When the Chinese food arrives they sit in pairs and eat their food conversing about sport and books and life in college. Damon refuses to pay attention to the new couple and chooses to nibble occasionally at her ear. Oliver's hand on Bonnie's back makes her breathe for a few minutes.

Lately, Elena realizes suddenly, she's always holding her breath. Maybe waiting for the other shoe to drop. But no, no, because Damon loves her, loves only her, and tonight when everyone's gone and their clothes are forgotten somewhere he's going to show her just how much.

#

"Checkmate!" Elena can hear Bonnie gloating – as much as her weak voice lets her - on the phone as she enters the sitting room to find Damon staring at the chess board like he could set it on fire with the power of his mind.

"That's impossible," he grimaces, "You cheated, there's no other explanation" he accuses her, leaning over to stare at the pieces.

"There is actually a simple one, when we're not in the same room, and you can't put your dirty paws on the pieces, the one that plays better wins instead of the one that cheats better."

The explanation makes Elena smile and she abandons her bag on the sofa before walking to Damon's back to let her hands slide over his shoulders. He's so into the conversation that he ignores it.

"I don't wanna offend your sensibilities here, but I'm going easy on you because you're sick. Clearly you've let it go to your head. I regret being so considerate," he insists, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Riiight," she mocks him "How could I not see that before?"

Elena walks around to sit on the chair that Bonnie would occupy if she was in the room playing, and not in their dorm.

"You're too old to be this naïve!" he says, eyes narrowing waiting for her reaction.

"You think I didn't see what you did there?" she asks, her tone insulted. "That's The Word, Damon. You aren't supposed to use it so carelessly" he just chuckles. Elena narrows her eyes trying to understand what they're talking about but she's in the dark.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Damon answers faking innocence.

"Whatever," she says, sighing, "I'm taking a break, you can use it to ponder your poor ability in playing fair."

"What would be the point in that? You play fair for the both of us," he protests, stretching his legs out.

"Ah! See?" she asks, jumping at his words, "You admitted that you are a cheater!"

"I did no such thing, Bon-Bon. The fever is making you talk nonsense. Poor thing," he mocks her.

"Whatever, bye," the conversation is ended quite abruptly but Damon's only reaction is to laugh, "I think I won this one, what do you say?" he asks finally looking up from the phone on speaker, which is laying next to the chess board.

"You act like a spoiled child," she accuses him, a grin playing on her lips. It's the contradiction in him that makes him so attractive, the fact that he's a brat, and then a man, and he knows gallantry and dominance.

"Of course I do, that's the basic tactic in my little game Drive witchy crazy. We are 1572 points for me and zero for her."

"Why do I get the feeling that she'd probably disagree on that?"

"Because I cheat," he shrugs, "Which only drives her more crazy, so in one way or another I'm the Champion," he decides, "But on the phone it's not as funny as it is to watch her face while she tries to not let on the fact that her insides are twisting because I break her sacred rules," he puffs, annoyed. "She resists a prison world of perpetual loneliness, defeats a psycho serial killer and death itself only to be put down by the flu. I find that anticlimactic," he says, grimacing "She should have come over anyway."

It's the longest conversation they have had in a while, and she's too comforted by their reaffirmed capability to communicate to notice the subject that makes him so talkative.

"She felt bad, and looked terrible," Elena tells him.

"Please, I think I've seen the worst there is," he replies waving a hand in the air, "What is she supposed to do alone at the dorm for the entire week end anyway?"

"Oh, I think that she'll find someone to volunteer if she wants company," she explains with a flirty smile. "Oliver seems pretty taken."

"He didn't die yet?" he asks, grimacing, "I was counting on our track record to do the job."

"Come on," she scolds him, "He's nice, he's shamelessly attractive," the comment gains her a nasty look, "And I think Bonnie is falling for him."

He lowers his eyes, suddenly busy observing where he went wrong with the game and lost sight of his Queen, leaving the King unguarded. The conversation seems over, but she doesn't mind it. Complicity is in the silence too. She knows that because she remembers being human and feeling Stefan's voice at the bottom of her soul even when he was absent-mindedly brushing her hair with his fingers as she lay on his lap and he was silently reading a book.

"Since we have the house to ourselves we could make the most of it," she says, but he doesn't say anything so she presses him again, calling out his name.

He looks up, offers her a tired smile and declares, "There's nothing else I'd like more."

Elena decides she can cook something, set up a romantic dinner for two. She's too distracted to hear Damon talking on the phone.

"Whatever you're doing or you're about to do, don't. The break is over. I'll have no mercy on you."

#

She gets in Damon's Camaro and leans in to press a kiss on his lips. When she turns around Bonnie is waving her hand at them, the other one inside Oliver's as he stands at her side.

Damon barely glances at them before starting the car and have the engine growl in his place.

Bonnie and Oliver have been dating for three months now and they seem to be going strong. "I'm so glad she found someone. I think he could be the one," she says cheerfully. The corners of Damon's mouth are down as he drives. He doesn't comment.

"I never saw her try so hard or be so open with someone."

He still doesn't reply but she doesn't need him to. Everything is right. Elena is too happy with how things are going to be bothered by his stubborn silence.

It's not that he minds that she found someone, he thinks, not at all. He's happy for her, he's ecstatic, really, he insists in his mind as a knife twists and twists at the bottom of his stomach and he feels his gums itching with the violent desire to tear skin apart. It's the hand holding that's old fashioned and annoying and just plain wrong.

He probably touched way more than just her hand, because it's been three months, and she's so beautiful he can't even begin to explain, but the hand-holding pokes a spot that hurts enough that he can't ignore it.

It's just the stupid hand-holding, and the stupid years to get her to do that with him of her own will, and the fact that Oliver gets that even if he didn't die with her, and never fought to bring her back, and never spent a single minute arguing the life out of him to convince her to do the right thing for her instead of putting the whole of freaking human kind ahead of her own life. Just that.

"I think they're gonna watch a movie," he hears Elena's voice slipping through his thoughts, "Probably The Bodyguard."

The knife slides up, slitting his chest in two like he's made of butter.

#

"Okay," he says, calmly, "I admit I didn't get the joke."

"I'm not joking Damon," she replies, turning around, her hair opening like a fan in the air. She's hurt that she's had to resort to this. She's hurt that she had to compromise her own pride but she has a right to ask that of him and she's not going to back down.

"That's good since it's not amusing at all. I would have hated to tell you that you suck at making jokes," he narrows his eyes, observing her hardened face. "Bon-Bon and I hardly see each other anymore." The thought of that being Bonnie's way to salvage his relationship makes him hate her sometimes. "And if we do there's always someone around," he protests, "I feel like I'm being chaperoned," he adds, grimacing, "So, I don't think there's any way to see her less then I already do."

"I-" she closes her eyes, her fists at her sides, before opening them again to continue, "I just… she's in every conversation. You call her all the time-"

"Just because she won't answer!" he reasons, exasperated, "And isn't she your best friend, too? I just try to make sure that she's alive."

"Maybe she doesn't answer because she doesn't want to. Maybe you don't need to check on her every few hours like she's incapable of taking care of herself. Maybe you're only making me miss the time when she wasn't actually alive!"

He's stunned into silence. His eyes go wide, his mouth gapes and she realizes what she's just said.

Elena shakes her head, brings her hands to her temples to push back her hair. "That's not what I meant," she says.

"It isn't," he agrees, but his voice is doubtful and he looks at her like he doesn't know her anymore.

"Of course it isn't, you know I love her," she insists, "But I love you, too. I love you more than anything," she explains. "I turned against my friends and anyone that told me I was making the wrong choice, and I lost Stefan because of you and now you-"

"You didn't lose Stefan," he corrects her; "You chose to leave Stefan. Stefan who loved you above anything else in his freaking existence. Stefan who sacrificed his chance at humanity so that you could have yours. You did it and you can't speak to me like that's my doing-"

"That's not what I'm saying!" she yells over his voice.

"Yes, that's exactly what you're saying," he contradicts her. "You're saying that because I've spent years pining after you and loving you blindly that I have to keep doing that, that I'm not allowed to love anything else besides you because otherwise you can't justify being criticized by your friends or not having my brother anymore. Because if you don't have me consuming my sanity at the mere thought of you, then what's so special about being with me?"

"You're twisting my words," she says, crossing her arms over her chest like she's raising a wall against his accusations.

"And you're trying to twist my arm behind my back," he replies "I don't like it."

"I'm trying to get us back where we were before," she explains, her voice weak as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. It's like there's a before Bonnie and an after Bonnie period and she does not count at all.

"I don't feel loved," she confesses miserably, her eyes filling up with tears and the burning sensation of humiliation.

He can understand that; he felt that way all his life and he tried to force his way in so many times that he lost count. He can tell her from experience that it works, until it doesn't work anymore.

"I tried my hardest," he says, his face darkened by her words, and the implications behind them.

"It doesn't need to be like this," she says, shaking her head, "It can be like it was before. Remember?" she asks, smiling at the thought. "We were passionate and wild and we cared for nothing else," and no one else, "It was so beautiful, so consuming. Now, I feel like it's consuming only me," she explains bitterly.

"You're wrong," he says, slowly shaking his head, "It's consuming me, too," he adds, making her smile again; and yet, he sees nothing to smile for. "You're consuming me like you want to annul me for anything else. I feel like your freaking main course, to the point that I can barely see myself in the mirror anymore."

"That's not true!"

"It's not?" They silence their doubts and fill the hollow inside with sex and the relief lasts an hour, maybe two, and then they are at square one again. With her turning his head so he won't look away from her. Maybe if she pulls out his eyes, maybe if she pulls out his heart, maybe then it will be as it was once.

"We just have to not let anyone else come in between us," she insists, trying to sound reasonable.

"And by anyone else, you mean Bonnie," he says, tired.

"Yes."

Damon nods and she can feel the weight slowly lifting off her shoulders, but then he says, "There's so much space between us that the whole town would fit; and for you I could kill them all, one by one," he spells, his words making her lightheaded. "But not Bonnie," he adds, making the world crumble around her. "Anything else, I can give it up," he says, almost surprised himself by how easy it is to admit it, even in front of her.

She doesn't need to hear his answer when she yells after him asking, "Where are you going?"

Elena has long known where his heart was taking him.

fine