Damon & Elena Fanfiction: A Long Weekend

Food Fight!

 Just wanted to alert you to the the fact that I did a POW with the sidebar song: as you can see the chapter is tittled "FOOD FIGHT" so the song is by the amazing Foo Fighters :L Hope you appreciate that ;D teehee ... enjoy :D Beth xoxox

Reaching into the cupboard, Damon pulled out all the ingredients for tortillas and began making the dough. I leant over to where he was working and scooped up a handful of flour. Before he could react, I had flung the flour at his face and it had coated him head to toe. His mouth was open in a little ‘o’ of surprise, and a giggle escaped my lips.

            “Oh so you think this is funny, do you, Elena?!” Damon looked annoyed, but as I looked closer, past his flour covered face, I could see a playful smirk growing. “I’ll have you know that this is an Armani shirt!”

            “Very much so,” I laughed, as I dodged a handful of flour Damon threw my way. “I’m sure you have plenty more shirts,” I said as I ducked under his arm, but as I did so, he grabbed my arms, and twisting them behind my back, he pushed my face down into the flour. I choked as I inhaled a mouthful of the white stuff from laughing so hard, and a plan began to form in my mind.

            I spun myself out of Damon’s grip, and turned so that I was facing him, who was pressed up against the counter. A look of surprise flitted across his face, as he stood there; not really knowing what had hit him. I let my eyes wander slowly up his muscular torso – which you could still see the sculpted lines underneath the cloth of his shirt – until my eyes rested on his lips. I let my arms snake round the back of him, fumbling for the box of eggs behind him, and I went up on my tiptoes to kiss him.

            He leant down to meet my kiss curiously, no doubt wondering what the hell I was playing at. After all, Stefan may have been abducted by Klaus, but we were still together, right? I shrugged it off, as the kiss got more intense, Damon biting my bottom lip playfully. My hands found what I was looking for – and I took an egg in each hand, as I brought them up to tangle with Damon’s mussed up hair. Smack! I cracked the eggs on his head, and Damon broke the kiss. He stood there, bemused, slimy egg yolk sliding down his face. His chef hat had fallen off sometime in our little chase, and the gunk had spiked his hair up. I bent over, doubled with laughter at the comical sight of the usual pristine Damon covered in the contents of his kitchen.

            Damon stood there for a moment, still looking bemused. “And there I was, Elena, thinking you really wanted to kiss me. Well, I guess that makes it 6-4 to you.” He seemed dejected, and as I looked up, I caught a sliver of hurt in his eyes. Had I really upset him, by having ulterior motives behind kissing him?

            Quick as a flash, Damon picked up the remaining eggs and broke them on my head, and I laughed as the yolk trickled down my hair, plastering it to my face. “Not so pretty now, are we, Miss Gilbert?” Damon chuckled, as he rubbed flour into the gunk on my face. He garnished his creation with basil leaves, which I picked out of my hair in hysterics.       

            “You’re not exactly looking the best yourself, Mr Salva-“ I was cut off, as Damon shoved his lips onto mine. I stood there, momentarily stunned, before I began to return the kiss. It was different before, not as forceful, more quizzical. It was almost as if Damon was testing me, asking for permission, even. He broke the kiss, and murmured, still against my lips “6-5 to you.” He picked up one of the halves of tomato, and shoved it into my mouth.

            I spluttered in surprise, spitting the tomato on the floor. “6 all, I think. Looks like you’re going to have to try a bit harder, from now on, Miss Gilbert!” I punched Damon playfully, but before I knew it, I was upside down over his shoulders.

            “Let me go!” I shouted, banging my fists on his back.

            “I’m not sure that would be a good idea, Elena. If you want me to put you down, you’ll have to make me.”                 

            I muttered in protest, before reaching down to that arse that I’d been admiring earlier and playfully squeezed it. I think Damon nearly dropped me in shock.                 

            “Did you just squeeze my ass?” Damon said, putting me down and setting me on my feet.           

            “Not at all, Mr Salvatore, you must be imagining things!” I winked at him, and Damon rolled his eyes. We both turned to survey the mess we’d made in the kitchen – it really was quite a sight. The black granite work surface was covered in flour, and there was egg yolk sliding down the cupboard doors. The tomato lay squished on the floor, from where I’d spat it out. We both burst into peals of uncontrollable laughter, and once it had subsided, Damon turned to me.

            “I don’t think there’s any food left in the kitchen that isn’t contributing to the new decor – so d’you think we should order out?” I nodded in agreement, still amused at the sight of the kitchen. “Chinese or Indian,” Damon inquired. I weighed the two against each other...

            “Chinese, please.” Damon smiled in agreement with my choice. I’d never really been a fan of Indian food – too spicy for my taste.

            “Chinese it is, then, Miss Gilbert.” Damon winked, and my heart fluttered. I think he heard the palpitation coming from my chest because he smirked that trademark smirk as he picked up the menu...