No Strings Attached

Day 1

"You're drunk," Elena had pointed out, earning her another scoff from her live-in boyfriend.

"What's it to you?" Elena didn't bother to answer this, causing Damon's anger to spark. Elena had always known he had a temper, but he had always been kind to her. He had never looked at her the way he looked at other people. She was obviously worth it to him. That had not been true for a long time. He looked at her differently. He spoke to her differently. He treated her as if she wasn't worth anything anymore. "I asked you a question."

"And I answered it with silence. Take a hint, Damon. Sleep it off."

Of course Damon hadn't taken her advice. Instead he had stormed across the kitchen and swept her work off the counter. Elena was used to his violence, but it still startled her every time.

They had screamed about it and eventually Elena couldn't take it anymore. With her purse clutched tightly in her hand she had ran, blinking the tears out of her eyes as she slammed the door behind her.

"Just like you to run!" Damon had called after her from the porch, watching as she got in her car and drove away.

So here Elena sits, the unfamiliar bar suffocating her as she sips her vice. The place was rather small, fitting only a few booths and this small bar. Not many people were here, most opting to flock to the hottest bar in town. But if Elena had gone there, one of the bartenders would have told Damon and she would have been forced to go home. And she did not want to go home.

"Are you done with that?" The man working the bar comes to stand in front of Elena, drawing her eyes away from the now empty glass.

"Yeah, I guess I am," she mutters, sliding it over to him. Noticing her hesitancy to be done, the bartender refills her glass and slides it back to her. She offers him a small smile before she continues to take a page out of Damon's How To Cope book.

"I'll have a bourbon," a deep voice grunts, drawing Elena's eyes away from her unfinished drink. The man, feeling her eyes, glances her way. "Do you need something?"

"No, I just... Sorry," Elena mutters, quickly ducking her head in embarrassment.

Sighing, the man returns his attention to the bartender as he sets the bourbon on the bar. Staring at the harsh drink, he finds himself feeling guilty for causing this woman embarrassment. So leaning, over, he taps her gently on the shoulder saying, "Hey, I'm sorry. I'm Dean."

"Elena," she answers, placing her hand in his to shake. He gives her an odd smile before taking his hand back. He glances around curiously, looking for the man whose arm she should be hanging off of. "I'm here alone."

"Oh really?" Dean raises his eyebrows at her, truly shocked. "You don't look like someone who enjoys drinking alone." Scoffing, Elena picks up her drink to make a point.

"Well, you're eyes must be deceiving you," Elena replies before taking a sip of her drink. Scoffing, Dean gets off his stool and moves to sit beside her. If he's going to drink his pain away, might as well not do it alone.

Elena wasn't the only one having problems at home.

Dean was in love. At least that's what he told himself. Her name was Lisa Braeden and she was amazing. Everything he could ask for.

And yet, at the same time, she wasn't. They didn't see eye to eye on anything. There was always some sort of argument to be had or problem to be solved. She didn't agree with his life choices and although she would never admit it, she wanted more. She wanted more than a washed-out jock working a nine to five job. Deep down Dean knew this and it did nothing to help their dying relationship.