The night before had been amazing. The party had been wonderful and seeing Damon's face when she walked in had been well worth the effort of the crinolines and corset. But at some point in the course of the evening, Elena found herself thinking more and more like Scarlett O'Hara. It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment but Caroline had made them all watch Gone with the Wind so many times that Elena nearly had the movie memorized.
At some point in the evening she'd told Damon that he was no gentleman and the smirk he gave her rivaled Clark Gable's. And then the kiss at the door... Even though she knew it was improper she couldn't help herself. They'd stumbled back into the room, clothes shed along the way, commencing a night of passion.
The soft touch of his hand against her skin was the first thing that penetrated the fog the next morning. With a soft moan, Elena shifted, one arm stretching out and coming to rest over his hip. That's when she fully realized that she wasn't alone.
Bleary eyes slid slowly open, taking in the man in bed beside her. "...Damon?" She questioned softly. Realization dawned over her features. Right. Things had happened. She scrambled to find something to say.
"...what time is it?" Not exactly what they needed to be talking about but less likely to hurt anyone's feelings than asking what had happened.