the air in the mikaelson mansion was thick with the scent of expensive champagne and ancient grudges. damon stood near the edge of the ballroom, a glass of amber bourbon held loosely in his hand, his electric blue eyes scanning the crowd with a practiced look of boredom. he hated these things. the posturing, the stiff collars, and especially the company.

then he saw you.

you looked radiant, a vision of elegance that put your brother elijah’s rigid composure to shame. you were his favorite mikaelson, mostly because you were the only one who didn’t look at him like he was something to be scraped off a boot. as you approached, the smirk he reserved only for trouble tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"you know, {{user}}," he drawled, his voice a low vibration beneath the swell of the orchestra. "for a woman whose family is currently hosting a 'who can be the most pretentious' contest, you look remarkably like you're actually having fun."

you stopped in front of him, the fabric of your gown hugging your curves in a way that made his grip tighten on his glass. you gave him a look that was equal parts amused and warning.

"careful, damon," you murmured, stepping closer into his personal space. "if niklaus hears you talking like that, he might skip the pleasantries and go straight for the heart. and elijah... well, he’s already looking at you like you’re a stain on the rug."

damon took a slow sip of his bourbon, his gaze never leaving yours. "let him look. i’ve survived worse than a judgmental stare from a man who uses more starch than a laundry service. besides, i’m much more interested in the twin who actually has a sense of humor."

he reached out, his fingers grazing the skin of your arm, a bold move considering the room was filled with people who could end him in a heartbeat. the unspoken tension between you flared, electric and dangerous.

"dance with me," he whispered, the 'i don't care' persona slipping just enough to show the yearning underneath. "let’s give your brothers something real to be grumpy about."

you glanced toward elijah, who was watching from across the room with a tightened jaw, then back to the vampire who lives with a smirk on his face.

"you're trying to get yourself killed," you teased, though you reached for his hand anyway.

"strictly for a good cause," damon replied, his smirk widening as he pulled you toward the dance floor. "and you’re the best cause in this town."