My Love Affair With Damon - A Vampire Diaries Fan Fiction

Chapter Twenty-Three - The Vampire With Alcohol Complications

"I'm home," Damon called, loudly closing the front door.

"Great," I mumbled, finishing Gone With The Wind for the third time since this morning. Yes, that's right. Gone With The Wind. I'd had nothing better to do. Stefan, Elena, Bonnie and Jeremy had stayed downstairs, ignoring me - especially once Caroline had turned up. Alaric Saltzman arrived, too, but he politely came upstairs to check if I was okay. Heck, I didn't even know that he knew I was still alive! Well, as alive as a vampire can be, if you get what I mean.

However, being by yourself for over twelve hours has it's benefits.

I had finally found a chance to thoroughly think things over - something I hadn't been able to do in a while. I mean, odd thoughts and questions had ran through my mind, like If blood still flows through Damon's veins then why can't he have an erection? but those weren't thing's that I'd not considered before. Google could probably give me most of those answers, thanks to the vampire franchise.

So, now I realise that maybe the thoughts I'd contemplated weren't exactly pleasant, but they were still small things that I'd either managed to figure out or glue onto that tiny ball of cells that doctors still managed to classify as a brain to ensure that I figured them out eventually.

"Lizzie?" Damon's voice made me shiver as it began to delve right into my flesh, resting in my muscles and making me stiff. "You up there?"

"Yes," I said, putting on a pleasant voice. "I'm up here. Come and find me."

"Oh," Damon growled, casually leaning against the door frame. "It would be my pleasure."

I thought it best that I just continued to flick through the pages of the book, but Damon didn't like this plan. He whistled at me, and kept making weird grunting noises as if I didn't know that he was there. Finally, I gave in. I glanced over at Damon, my eyes wide. His black shirt was unbuttoned and his jeans were low cut. He had a crystal glass of amber liquid in his hand.

"I told you to sober up," I spat, clicking my tongue. "Look at you. You're a wreck. It's pathetic. If you seriously have nothing better to do with your time, then why don't you just take a sharpened stake and drive it through your heart. I'm sure it would be much more entertaining. Please - go and get a life."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You know, I love that little English accent of yours. It's so...sassy."

I sighed impatiently, throwing the already battered copy of Gone With The Wind across the room and jumping up from the bed. My legs moved faster than normal as I ran over to Damon. I looked straight at him - we were of a similar height. His ice blue eyes glared into my emerald green ones, and they stayed like that for some time. I wanted to become lost in his narrowing glare, but I couldn't let myself slip into another trance and loose focus. This was supposed to be punishment for him; not pleasure.

"How much have you had to drink?" I asked in a barely audible whisper.

"Enough to get me drunk," he smirked, his hot breath washing over my face. It smelt of whiskey - of course - and beer. What a fucked up guy Damon must be. Once again, I began to feel sorry for him, but I didn't want the pity to take over, so I pushed it away, using a lot of the energy that must be leaking from both internal and external holes.

He chose to be like this, I told myself. Nobody ever asked him to be this way. This is what he wants his life to be like. I shouldn't be feeling any guilt, or remorse. Damon's issues are irrelevant.

"You really need to stop drinking," I said with disgust. "It's making you look like some lonely old man who has nothing better to do but wonder through the New Forest until he locates the nearest tavern. Then he'll drink one too many glasses of brandy, and his daughter will be called to take him home. That's how he spends every single evening, and the nights on your agenda don't seem much different."