[ You know who Damon keeps getting compliments for? His brother's wife. He takes the first two as genuine compliments. He's gracious, he nods. He keeps his eye roll to the bare minimum. But, then someone points his wife out and it's clear, that's not his wife. It's a hilarious story he'd like to not tell multiple times tonight, but alas, it happens more than a few times.
Luckily, some of the compliments are for Katherine?
Elena's outfit reminds him of something Katherine would choose to wear, while Katherine's feels both similar and right for this town and out of place anywhere else.
It's a dichotomy he rides all night long, at war with himself over his thoughts. He focuses on truths. Katherine is not his wife. Elena still gets him going. She looks good. Her pants hug her ass in just the right way, something she can tell he's thinking when she glances over. It's a quick glance, but she catches him. He doesn't look long enough to cop to it. He's mid-conversation after all. But, he thinks she drops her plastic fork just so she can bend down and pick it up.
Oh, Elena Gilbert, he will not rise to your bait. Not there. (Maybe later. Definitely later. He's already thinking about pulling those pants down.
It's like a dance they share from across the room all night, stolen glances and one or two shared conversations. He can keep this up for tonight, but he's not sure how long he'll be able to. ]
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Luckily, some of the compliments are for Katherine?
Elena's outfit reminds him of something Katherine would choose to wear, while Katherine's feels both similar and right for this town and out of place anywhere else.
It's a dichotomy he rides all night long, at war with himself over his thoughts. He focuses on truths. Katherine is not his wife. Elena still gets him going. She looks good. Her pants hug her ass in just the right way, something she can tell he's thinking when she glances over. It's a quick glance, but she catches him. He doesn't look long enough to cop to it. He's mid-conversation after all. But, he thinks she drops her plastic fork just so she can bend down and pick it up.
Oh, Elena Gilbert, he will not rise to your bait. Not there. (Maybe later. Definitely later. He's already thinking about pulling those pants down.
It's like a dance they share from across the room all night, stolen glances and one or two shared conversations. He can keep this up for tonight, but he's not sure how long he'll be able to. ]