Work Text:
There’s too much to do. Not enough time to do any of it. But all Elena can think about is Stefan. He hasn’t moved since he woke in the basement almost twenty-four hours ago, hasn’t put up any more fight despite there being at least another day to go before every last drop of human blood leaves his system. She hasn’t slept - actually she can’t remember the last time she got a truly decent night’s sleep. And Damon is far from helpful, issuing sarcastic comments if he even bothers to acknowledge his brother at all.
It’s the side of him she hates and it comes out in droves when he’s deflecting, pretending he isn’t the gentleman who showed up for her dance when no one else did or the big brother who came asking for help finding Stefan, then sat and worried with her after they locked him up.
Elena rubs at her eyes, trying to read past the burn, and Damon, appearing from nowhere, swipes her book from her slack hold and snaps it shut. The sound echoes in the big house and Elena flinches; it’s the loudest things have been all day.
“I need that to finish my homework.”
“You need to sleep,” he counters, nostrils flaring as he takes her in. “Go home. Hell, pick a room. Get comfy on this couch, I will find you a blanket, just do it. Looking at you makes me tired, and when I get tired I get cranky.”
“So really it’s to put you out of your misery,” she says, scoffing when he nods so earnestly. She wishes she could tell when he’s joking more; sometimes he lets moments slip, gracing her with a smile between quips that’s damn near human. Other times he holds everything close to his chest, not wanting anyone to see if he’s in a good mood or bad, if he’s tired or angry or sad, if you can laugh when he says something in case it sets him off.
Damon is an unraveling enigma, trying so hard to stay unknowable, and all it does is make Elena want to know more. To piece together the puzzles that are the Salvatore brothers one by one.
What’s sleep in the grand scheme of things? She can sleep when she’s dead, which, knowing her luck so far, will come sooner rather than later. Might as well make the most of being awake and alive.
Besides, if she sleeps right now, her dreams will just take her back to the night before, of Stefan with blood-filled eyes and blood-stained fangs. She’s not ready for that, seeing that there was something worse than when he killed Frederick in the woods.
Elena holds out her hand for her book. “Let me just finish that page.”
“Then you’ll sleep?”
She shrugs. “Sure.”
Damon cocks his head, watching her the way her father would a bug when he couldn’t decide whether or not to do the hard work of trapping it and letting it go outside or killing it and calling it a day. Does he pretend he believes her or fight her on it?
He throws her book onto a chair on the other side of the room and pulls her up with one swift tug. Her sneakers slide along the smooth wood of the floor, Damon moving a little too fast to be human but not fast enough for things to blur. He drops her into his car without her bag or her coat and drives without a word. Elena’s too tired to care; there’s other homework she can do and she can just come back tomorrow for her things. Taking her home doesn’t mean she has to sleep and it won’t stop her from worrying.
Except when the turn towards the town proper and inevitably her house comes up, Damon doesn’t take it. He keeps going, staying on the edge of town and forcing Elena’s nerves into a frenzy, until they’re almost close to the square and she sees the end of the park. He parks over two spaces.
“Why are we here?”
Instead of answering, he gestures for her to follow and gets out. If she was pettier and less curious, she’d stay in the car, but he knows he doesn’t have to ask or make demands because, unlike her for him, Damon seems to be able to read her like a book. She’s already by his side by the time Damon stops at one of the gates, able to grab her without looking and pull her in tight. “Bend your knees.”
She does as she’s told, feeling a whoosh of air as he puts power into his jump, getting them over the gate and back on their feet, and not much else.
The fence and gate around the playground is much shorter. Damon hops over with one hand, leaving Elena to climb it a little less gracefully herself. He flops onto his back in the middle of the merry-go-round, using his feet to spin in slow, lazy circles.
“Why are we here?” she asks again.
“Exert some energy, maybe you’ll sleep,” he replies, kicking off faster so the ride gains speed.
“And your choice for exerting energy is a kid’s playground?”
The ride eventually comes to a stop and Damon makes a show of pulling himself into a sitting position, his shirt stuck around his waist from riding up and his smirk smooth and cocky. “Well, I didn’t think my usual methods would work with you, but we’re welcome to try.”
Elena blushes under his leer, not because it works but because it’s stupid and embarrassing and she blushes when she’s annoyed as much as when she’s shy. The problem is, if Damon understands the difference, he pretends otherwise.
“You’re an ass.”
“I know.” He jumps to his feet, fixing his shirt along the way, and manoeuvres her into taking his place, legs stretching out so her feet don’t hit the ground. “Hold on, it’s about to get fast.”
Elena starts to laugh, feeling relatively secure despite being alone with a vampire in the middle of the night. The merry-go-round turns slowly right and she makes sure her arms are wrapped tight around the bars; for the first time she knows for sure he’s telling the absolute truth. She loses her breath when it immediately spins left, a low thud rocking the ride when he jumps. She sees nothing but darkness and it’s exhilarating, clearing her mind like nothing else. All she can feel is the wind on her skin, all she can think about is controlling her stomach, and it’s the most fun she’s had in months.
The ride finally slows enough for her to see, and Damon is hovering over her, his hair stuck up in every direction and his face a bright, cherry red. Her stomach churns, but she doesn’t care. When she can breathe properly again she goes back to laughing, turning inwards to hold it in and failing. She barely notices Damon fall into the space beside her.
“Oh, god, it hurts.”
“This may be the weirdest way I’ve ever killed somebody,” Damon mumbles, which only makes it worse. Her shoulders shake into the ride and the metal digs into her skin and it all feels so damn good. “Are - are you okay?”
“I have no idea. But I think I needed that.”
“I spun the merry-go-round.”
It’s okay that he doesn’t get it, it’s not something she needs to explain, at least not tonight. “Did you like this ride a lot as a kid?”
“It wasn’t invented when I was a kid.” He groans suddenly. “God, I’m old.”
She ignores that last comment; she’s not gonna ruin things and get on his bad side, even if he did bring it up first. “What did you do to get away then? Or play?”
“Well, Elena, we used this little thing called our imagination. Whenever we were allowed to.”
“Allowed to?”
He doesn’t answer. “I liked hiding in high places. Trees. The falls. Et cetera.”
“Hiding? Who did you hide from?”
Damon turns to her, a small, rare smile partially hidden beneath his still red cheeks. Then he ruins it. “Stefan. If you think he’s annoying now, you should’ve seen him as a child. Couldn’t get rid of the little brat.”
Elena risks knocking her elbow into his ribs. “Liar. So did you mean what you said about why we’re here or is there a real reason?”
“The honest truth?” he asks, hand up like he’s ready to be sworn in. Elena nods. “I really, really… wanted you out of my house.”
“Haha,” she mocks. “I believed you the first time.”
She swings her legs, maybe to sit up, maybe to kick him, she hasn’t decided. Then it’s too late, Damon’s on his feet on the ground and the ride is spinning faster than her brain can catch up with.
When he takes her home an hour later, body weighted with lead but her heart lighter than air, Elena sleeps like a baby.