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TVD: Dressed Up as a Hawk (Elena & Damon)

Inspired by BPAL's Harvest Moon 2005.

Title: Dressed Up as a Hawk
Author: voleuse
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Characters: Elena & Damon
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Tossing off a quip or saintly expression, something you never expected.
Notes: Set a while after 1.09



The leaves crunched under Elena's feet as she wandered through the cemetary. It was still bright, though an occasional brisk wind spiraled through, stirring detritus in its wake. The clearing seemed empty, but she averted her eyes from the crypt in the corner, though the police tape had been cleaned away long ago.

She made her way to her parents' familiar headstone and settled against the cold ground. "Sorry it's been so long," she said. She ran her hand over their names, lingering over the final t. "It's been more than a little crazy here." She shifted against the cold ground, dug a thermos out of her bag. "Jeremy's doing better than he was. I think I caught him doing actual homework last night, which is weird." She unscrewed the lid of the thermos, reveled in the fragrant steam as she poured.

"An offering for the dead?"

Elena gasped as Damon sauntered into the sunlight. She blinked, and he was before her, grasping her hands before relieving her of the cup.

"Don't mind if I do," he said, though he grimaced after taking a sip. "What--"

"It's cider," Elena replied, scowling as he poured the liquid onto the ground.

"Not even the real kind," he said. "And for the record? The dead prefer whiskey."

She snatched the cup back from his idle hand, poured another cupful and drank, defiantly. It was just short of scalding, and the spices lingered on her tongue. She let a breath out, and decided Damon wasn't going to kill her today.

"I could kill you, you know," he said, stopping short of leaning against the headstone. "The vervain keeps me from compelling you, but that's all."

"You won't." Elena took another sip of the cider, then steadied the cup on the ground. "Stefan would kill you if you did."

"Ah, my dear brother." Damon looked at her, and his eyes darkened. "Maybe it would serve him right."

Elena stood, but then Damon was behind her, his breath hot against her neck.

"Maybe he should lose somebody he loves," Damon murmured. He brushed his hand against Elena's hair, and she jerked away.

"You're talking about Katherine," she observed. His eyes narrowed, and Elena turned, faced him fully. "I'm sorry about that. I'm sure Emily didn't--"

"Spare me," Damon said, and his laugh wiped the anger from his face. "I don't need you to feel sorry for me."

Elena gazed at him for a moment, at the tension in his jaw and shoulders. "But you like it, don't you? You wouldn't be standing here if you didn't." She folded her arms. "Why?"

He took a step forward, but she managed not to flinch. And he raised his hand, and he brushed her cheek. He smiled.

Then Elena blinked, and he was gone again. The wind picked up again, and she shivered. "See what I mean, guys?" She stooped and gathered her things. She brushed her hand against the headstone and sighed. "Crazy."

She took a last gulp of cider, then turned and headed home.


###

A/N: Title and summary adapted from Charlie Smith's One Lie After Another. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.

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