[ elena's expression doesn't so much as fall as it changes: from teasing to somber, from expectant to serious. she's not sure what this is at first, but she sees the frustration; she's sure that's what he means for her to see. but what she knows is not that, or the pleading, or the challenge. of course she feels all of it -- that's the problem with damon. there's no escaping any of him. there's no escaping every ounce of hatred and anger and desperation he reflects onto her; it always fits like a glove.
she blinks up at him, feels a surge of her own resolve in answer. her shoulders come up, pull back slightly. her own hatred and anger and desperation fills her. that's what he expects, and she knows it: for hell to never freeze over, for this all to be for some cheap thrill or because stefan's not here. she can't even promise herself that's not why this is happening: because of the circumstances they are in, where they are and who's not here. (and not just stefan, but everyone. home.)
elena knows it's not why she wants him in any way she does, only why it's possible to give in. (inevitably falling back into his orbit, one way or another. no matter how much she hates it, needs it, wants it, never wants anything less.)
she's capable of that. of being what he expects. of stabbing somebody in the back. of never loving him the way he loves her. (just never admitting she's too scared to feel it, or lose him or herself if she does.) she's apparently the kind of girl who turns around and wants the love of her life's older brother. it's okay if he sees that. if he knows that. because he's damon.
she's never been afraid of his rejection. her lashes flutter uncertainly anyway. he's already answered for himself, so: ] So what is it I'm waiting for? [ it's challenging -- challenging him to answer. her stomach is in one tight knot. since he volunteered his supreme knowledge of the situation; please, enlighten her. ]