[ he's not late on purpose, exactly, it's just, you know. there's a lot he's doing right now, he's got a lot going on. doing dinner with the girl who just lied to him about being able to love him is a bit lower on the priority list than making sure he doesn't rapidly age and die if one of the frankly too many vampires in the manor gets their fangs too close to his neck. by the time he gets to elena's room, it's... not late, the food is still at least mostly warm, but elena almost certainly decided he probably wasn't showing.
when he does finally enter the room he looks—nervous, maybe, if that's a thing she can imagine damon feeling. he avoids looking at her at first, glancing around the suite instead, taking it in, cataloging the differences between what the manor's given her and her room in mystic falls—
and then his eyes light on the bed, and all the food spread over it, and he blinks. ]
I'm pretty sure this is the opposite of portion control, [ he says, though he sounds more amused and delighted than bothered. when he finally meets elena's eyes, his lips have tugged into a smile. ]
( elena has, in the interim, occupied herself in a cozy chair in the corner of her room, not reading a book that she's thumbing through in her lap — the portrait of a lady. she perks once damon enters in, shutting and setting it aside, standing up with a leg-fallen-asleep wobble. should the spread make her feel embarrassed? probably, yes. it is definitely overkill. elena rubs a hand on the back of her neck while she looks at it, giving his dinner a kind of all encompassing gesture. )
I wanted to make sure there was something you liked. Plus — you can get into leftovers, now. It's great. Cold pizza ( she gives a dorky thumbs up ) is almost better than the hot stuff.
( elena will obviously be drinking blood. from a bag. but she's happy to watch and observe damon with this anyway, her humanity much closer in the rear view mirror than his. )
[ she doesn't need to be embarrassed—there's nothing embarrassing about wanting to take care of your people. damon knows that feeling well, for all he can't show it except in the most dire of circumstances or most violent of ways. his smile softens, reading the self-conscious turn this has taken for her, and after a moment's pause, he approaches the blood bag waiting for her on her bedside table. ]
Tastes better from a glass, you know, [ he says, kindly, releasing the port cover as he picks up one of the glasses that were delivered with dinner. he fills it half-full with blood, motions fluid and practiced, stoppers the port and sets the bag back on the bedside table—
and then licks his fingers of the blood smears that collected there, and immediately makes a face. ]
Jesus, how is that so gross now. Eugh. [ well, look, he tried to be smooth. he holds the glass out to elena, frowning now, and turns his attention back to the spread waiting for him. ] So, just... pick one, and let's see how it goes?
( laughing, she accepts the glass — in part because it wasn't so long ago that she was disturbed by blood, and in part because there is a beautiful irony to this, being the vampiric foil to damon's humanity. we used to pray for days like these, when damon was weak and punishable and squishy. now, there's that bitter twinged pill of delighting in his humanity — there are things to enjoy about being human. there are good foods, and early sunrises, and being close to people without wanting to eat them. things elena won't necessarily experience. or wouldn't, in normal circumstances.
she gives a grand gesture to the spread. )
Yeah, exactly! Wait — I'll pick one out, that's a good idea.
( glass cupped to her chest, she looks around, lifting lids and looking through, trying to find the best thing to start on. something he'll almost definitely enjoy, to get him excited about trying other things. fish, lobster? too contentious. pasta? obviously, yes — who doesn't like carbs? )
Okay, here it is. First thing. ( a plate of lasagna. very fancy lasagna. elena waits a beat, trying to decide if its offensive to assume he won't know how to use a fork properly, before just following her first instinct by snagging a forked bite for him, holding it out for him to eat. ) It has all your major food groups — carbs, grease, cheese, and sauce. You'll like it.
[ i can eat human food, he almost says. you've seen me eat a burger. i was human for twenty five years, i've used a fork! it's on the tip of his tongue to snark, to bluster, to mask insecurity with sarcasm—
but he just smiles, fond and indulgent, and accepts the plate. he hasn't eaten human food for anything but taste and appearances in a century and a half. he's had to relearn so many things about his body, about how to move, what he can and can't do now—it makes sense to start with the basics. more than that, it's nice that she's trying so hard. that she cares so much. that hasn't exactly always been a given. ]
Well, [ he says, sighing as though this is such a burden, like he doesn't adore her for trying so hard, ] Probably won't be as good as nonna's, but I guess I can give it a shot.
[ not that damon's ever actually met his nonna—giuseppe left the whole family back in the home country and never looked back. he plucks the fork from her hand, takes a bite—it's really weird to eat while being observed like this—he chews, he swallows, look elena, he's got the very most basic parts of humanity down. ]
Yup, [ gravely, this is so serious, ] that's lasagna. Needs some more garlic, maybe a pinch of thyme—
( there is a definite, unapologetic bit of delight in the laugh she lets out. )
Oh, you're a food critic now?
( she's just glad he likes it, really. it's a relief.
in any case, she takes a drink of her blood, shoulders relaxing on the swallow. the thing about it — food satiates you, satisfies you, but blood never really scratches the itch. you can get fullish, but never fully content. elena is young yet, in a room full of a freshly warm-blooded man. she takes a deeper swallow, idly turning away from him so he can't see the line between her brows. )
It's ... weird, right? ( she's trying to be subtle about not looking at him now, crossing the room and touching her things, lifting little knickknacks off dressers and tables to keep her hands occupied. ) You the human, me the vampire?
I've always liked to cook, [ he grins, delighted to have drawn a laugh out of her—he's as likely to earn an eye roll or a scoff from her as he is a real full-throated laugh, and each laugh he gets from her is like a sunrise all its own. ] I just couldn't always appreciate what it was I was making.
[ the problem with elena trying to be subtle in front of damon is he's always paying more attention to her than anything else in the room. she steps away, lifts her knickknacks and tchotchkes, and damon doesn't take his eyes off her for a single second. the lasagna is unimportant, as far as he's concerned, only as interesting to him as far as elena is helping him work out how to handle it.
he watches her, head tilted in that crow-like way of his. ]
Pretty weird, yeah. You're not gonna bite me, you can come closer.
( caught, elena glances over her shoulder, offering some kind of half bashful, half annoyed smile. at being seen. at being effected. it's a little like — well, she doesn't know what. having the door opened the second you fit a shirt over your shoulders. the borderline of almost indecency.
a little quietly, ) We shouldn't push it. You smell ...
( really good. impossibly good. and there's something animalistically, ferally happy about him feeding. fattening up. about being the one to do it. elena shivers, her glass pressed to her mouth. )
I know I'm irresistable, Elena, [ said with all the lofty confidence of someone who knows both how attractive and personally unlikable he is, ] but you've done a good job resisting me so far. I think you're safe.
[ despite his words, damon stays exactly where he is. elena needs to be led to things slowly sometimes, like a skittish and opinionated horse. try to force or convince her and she'll dig her heels in just because. dealing with elena requires finesse, patience, compassion... not qualities damon is known to possess, but he's willing to plumb those deliberately hidden depths for elena.
he takes another bite of lasagna, mostly to give her a break from feeling like she's under a microscope. they're just having a conversation. there are no stakes here, no pressure. come on in elena, the blood is fine. ]
Challenging yourself is on important part of learning control anyway. Can't know your limits if you never test them, right?
( there is an argument, she thinks, that challenging yourself shouldn't necessarily start with the object of your desires due to the risk/reward factor, but she can imagine the look that would get her, and bites at her tongue. not literally. she wonders if damon sliced the inside of his mouth open as often as she has in his vampiric youth, or if elena was just lucky enough to get all the clumsy genes in the bloodied whirlpool. she's instinctively prodding her canines with her tongue, expecting the bulk of her fangs to greet her, but they haven't distended yet, and if that's an omen, she's happy to take it. quarter turning away, she chugs a healthy portion of her blood, the sleeve at her wrist pressing against the corner of her mouth to wipe any excess away.
anyway. he has a point. she's not going to invite him over and then spend the duration with her back to the wall, trying not to breathe too deeply. of course she can do this. the other option? not an option at all. she has to get used to it. with bouncing steps, she regains her position next to him, giving herself the pleasure/pain of one deep breath. fine. damon smells — just fine. )
Well, if I eat you, you only have yourself to blame. ( tongue-in-cheek, lightening the mood she darkened in the first place. ) You should eat more, you're probably starving. Does your stomach hurt?
[ he gives her her space, and she rewards him for it—elena comes closer, and damon smiles, taking another bite of lasagna as a reward. (not for him, of course. for her.)
her question probably wasn't supposed to be a stumper, but damon blinks at her, momentarily blank-faced. ]
Am I not supposed to be?
[ he's been a vampire suppressing his hunger and ignoring his body's demands for so long that the idea of listening to them hadn't yet occurred to him. yeah he's been irritable, exhausted, weak—but that's just being human. right? ]
( she shakes her head trying not to smile, although the amusement is there in the corner flexing of her mouth muscles, impossibly finding damon a little — cute, about all this. okay, pain isn't cute, but his obliviousness kind of is. not that she would say as much. (though, fact remains, damon is not as good at running away now. not that that was ever his move, really.) )
No, humans aren't constantly in pain. You'll have to be careful if you've been starving yourself — eating too much can make you sick. ( she pauses, thinking about it. the only boys she's spent significant amounts of time around number in — what? jeremy, matt, alaric? she dad before he died? they were all very capable of putting it away. her baseline understanding of how boys eat is if it's in front of them, it will soon disappear. ) I guess ... on a normal day you could probably eat that whole thing. ( gesture to lasagna ) But today you should probably only eat half, so your stomach doesn't cramp. I ... think that makes sense.
( slightly apologetic smile as she downs the rest of her blood. it skims the cream off the top of her hunger, but there's still a yawning expanse underneath, an eternal struggle she's eventually going to have to get used to. she fails at not watching damon's throat bob while he swallows. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
when he does finally enter the room he looks—nervous, maybe, if that's a thing she can imagine damon feeling. he avoids looking at her at first, glancing around the suite instead, taking it in, cataloging the differences between what the manor's given her and her room in mystic falls—
and then his eyes light on the bed, and all the food spread over it, and he blinks. ]
I'm pretty sure this is the opposite of portion control, [ he says, though he sounds more amused and delighted than bothered. when he finally meets elena's eyes, his lips have tugged into a smile. ]
no subject
I wanted to make sure there was something you liked. Plus — you can get into leftovers, now. It's great. Cold pizza ( she gives a dorky thumbs up ) is almost better than the hot stuff.
( elena will obviously be drinking blood. from a bag. but she's happy to watch and observe damon with this anyway, her humanity much closer in the rear view mirror than his. )
no subject
Tastes better from a glass, you know, [ he says, kindly, releasing the port cover as he picks up one of the glasses that were delivered with dinner. he fills it half-full with blood, motions fluid and practiced, stoppers the port and sets the bag back on the bedside table—
and then licks his fingers of the blood smears that collected there, and immediately makes a face. ]
Jesus, how is that so gross now. Eugh. [ well, look, he tried to be smooth. he holds the glass out to elena, frowning now, and turns his attention back to the spread waiting for him. ] So, just... pick one, and let's see how it goes?
no subject
she gives a grand gesture to the spread. )
Yeah, exactly! Wait — I'll pick one out, that's a good idea.
( glass cupped to her chest, she looks around, lifting lids and looking through, trying to find the best thing to start on. something he'll almost definitely enjoy, to get him excited about trying other things. fish, lobster? too contentious. pasta? obviously, yes — who doesn't like carbs? )
Okay, here it is. First thing. ( a plate of lasagna. very fancy lasagna. elena waits a beat, trying to decide if its offensive to assume he won't know how to use a fork properly, before just following her first instinct by snagging a forked bite for him, holding it out for him to eat. ) It has all your major food groups — carbs, grease, cheese, and sauce. You'll like it.
no subject
but he just smiles, fond and indulgent, and accepts the plate. he hasn't eaten human food for anything but taste and appearances in a century and a half. he's had to relearn so many things about his body, about how to move, what he can and can't do now—it makes sense to start with the basics. more than that, it's nice that she's trying so hard. that she cares so much. that hasn't exactly always been a given. ]
Well, [ he says, sighing as though this is such a burden, like he doesn't adore her for trying so hard, ] Probably won't be as good as nonna's, but I guess I can give it a shot.
[ not that damon's ever actually met his nonna—giuseppe left the whole family back in the home country and never looked back. he plucks the fork from her hand, takes a bite—it's really weird to eat while being observed like this—he chews, he swallows, look elena, he's got the very most basic parts of humanity down. ]
Yup, [ gravely, this is so serious, ] that's lasagna. Needs some more garlic, maybe a pinch of thyme—
no subject
Oh, you're a food critic now?
( she's just glad he likes it, really. it's a relief.
in any case, she takes a drink of her blood, shoulders relaxing on the swallow. the thing about it — food satiates you, satisfies you, but blood never really scratches the itch. you can get fullish, but never fully content. elena is young yet, in a room full of a freshly warm-blooded man. she takes a deeper swallow, idly turning away from him so he can't see the line between her brows. )
It's ... weird, right? ( she's trying to be subtle about not looking at him now, crossing the room and touching her things, lifting little knickknacks off dressers and tables to keep her hands occupied. ) You the human, me the vampire?
no subject
[ the problem with elena trying to be subtle in front of damon is he's always paying more attention to her than anything else in the room. she steps away, lifts her knickknacks and tchotchkes, and damon doesn't take his eyes off her for a single second. the lasagna is unimportant, as far as he's concerned, only as interesting to him as far as elena is helping him work out how to handle it.
he watches her, head tilted in that crow-like way of his. ]
Pretty weird, yeah. You're not gonna bite me, you can come closer.
no subject
a little quietly, ) We shouldn't push it. You smell ...
( really good. impossibly good. and there's something animalistically, ferally happy about him feeding. fattening up. about being the one to do it. elena shivers, her glass pressed to her mouth. )
I just don't want to hurt you.
no subject
[ despite his words, damon stays exactly where he is. elena needs to be led to things slowly sometimes, like a skittish and opinionated horse. try to force or convince her and she'll dig her heels in just because. dealing with elena requires finesse, patience, compassion... not qualities damon is known to possess, but he's willing to plumb those deliberately hidden depths for elena.
he takes another bite of lasagna, mostly to give her a break from feeling like she's under a microscope. they're just having a conversation. there are no stakes here, no pressure. come on in elena, the blood is fine. ]
Challenging yourself is on important part of learning control anyway. Can't know your limits if you never test them, right?
no subject
anyway. he has a point. she's not going to invite him over and then spend the duration with her back to the wall, trying not to breathe too deeply. of course she can do this. the other option? not an option at all. she has to get used to it. with bouncing steps, she regains her position next to him, giving herself the pleasure/pain of one deep breath. fine. damon smells — just fine. )
Well, if I eat you, you only have yourself to blame. ( tongue-in-cheek, lightening the mood she darkened in the first place. ) You should eat more, you're probably starving. Does your stomach hurt?
no subject
her question probably wasn't supposed to be a stumper, but damon blinks at her, momentarily blank-faced. ]
Am I not supposed to be?
[ he's been a vampire suppressing his hunger and ignoring his body's demands for so long that the idea of listening to them hadn't yet occurred to him. yeah he's been irritable, exhausted, weak—but that's just being human. right? ]
no subject
No, humans aren't constantly in pain. You'll have to be careful if you've been starving yourself — eating too much can make you sick. ( she pauses, thinking about it. the only boys she's spent significant amounts of time around number in — what? jeremy, matt, alaric? she dad before he died? they were all very capable of putting it away. her baseline understanding of how boys eat is if it's in front of them, it will soon disappear. ) I guess ... on a normal day you could probably eat that whole thing. ( gesture to lasagna ) But today you should probably only eat half, so your stomach doesn't cramp. I ... think that makes sense.
( slightly apologetic smile as she downs the rest of her blood. it skims the cream off the top of her hunger, but there's still a yawning expanse underneath, an eternal struggle she's eventually going to have to get used to. she fails at not watching damon's throat bob while he swallows. )