He lazily strode across the room, the dim light of the lamp irritating his pupils, making them crinkle. His eyebrows moved haphazardly as his gaze searched the twilight for your outline. He licked his dried lips, tasting the tart taste of whiskey.

He was drunk. The man had had a fight with Elena, and okay if it had ended there, but Stefan had come out of nowhere, rushing to comfort Elena. It was eating Damon to pieces, after all, what better way to get drunk than to get drunk and go to his good friend's house?

He plopped down on the couch, actually next to you, running his hands around it. A smirk colored his face as his eyes met your questioning gaze. "You got a drink, sweetheart?" He stretched out the words, rubbing his face with his hands. "Don't look at me like that, I just decided to take a break." he shrugged, his voice hoarse and his gaze misty.

He was drunk now, all senses heightened. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he tried to talk some sense into himself. Elena was flitting between him and Stefan, sometimes it was annoying. Anyway, luckily he can always come to you. It seemed like half a century ago you told him your house was his house. Damon takes it literally, stopping by even when you're not home.