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Jan. 20th, 2011 06:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayTitle: Frienemies
Part: 1/5
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ellerkay
Pairing: Damon/Alaric
Rating: PG-13 (up to R or maybe NC-17 overall)
Wordcount: 1,989
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Spoilers: For this installment, spoilers through 1.21 "Isobel", with some dialogue lifted from the episode. (Series overall contains spoilers through 2.3, "Bad Moon Rising.")
Warnings: Eventual slash, drinking, a complete lack of plot
Summary: After the first encounter with Isobel, Alaric's ready to get drunk.
Series masterlist
Crossposted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tvd_fic, tvd_slash, and damon_alaric. Apologies to anyone who gets spammed.
Alaric grabbed Isobel’s note quickly, before it blew away. He got to his feet and looked after her, but she had already disappeared. With a sigh, he shoved the note in his pocket. The reunion hadn’t exactly been what he’d pictured, when he used to imagine that there was a chance Isobel could still be alive.
He wanted a drink. Well, another drink. Many more drinks. He glanced back at the noisy, crowded Grill. Being around a bunch of strangers sounded like a nightmare right now, but when he considered going home and drinking alone, he felt nauseous.
Jenna’s? He rejected the idea immediately. It wouldn’t be fair to her, when he’d just be thinking about his undead ex-wife. (Did she count as an ex, when they weren’t divorced? It made his head hurt to think about.) Besides, things were still strained between him and Jenna since she’d told him Isobel was Elena’s birth mother. And he might run into Elena. He wasn’t ready. He’d have to give her the note tomorrow, but it was going to take the light of day before he’d be able to face her.
That left one very bad option. Alaric pulled out his cell phone and wished he’d made more friends in Mystic Falls.
“Rick,” said Damon’s purring voice when he picked up on the third ring. “Miss me already?”
“Is Stefan home?” Alaric asked.
“Can’t you call him yourself and find out?” Damon’s voice was sharper now.
“Just – please, Damon,” Alaric said desperately. “Just tell me if he’s there.” If Stefan was there, Elena might be, too.
Damon was silent for a moment, Alaric’s tone obviously giving him pause.
“Nope,” he said finally. “There was drama, there was blah blah, and I thought Elena was staying over, but they decided to run off to her place. So I’m all by my lonesome.”
“Good. I’m coming over,” Alaric said, and hung up the phone before Damon had a chance to respond.
As he got into his car and started to drive to the Salvatores,’ he expected to hear his phone ring; Damon calling to tell him to stay away, or at least demanding to know why he was visiting. But the phone stayed silent, and in fifteen minutes, Alaric was parking at the top of the boarding house driveway.
Damon opened the door as Alaric approached, and he leaned against the doorframe. The position seemed to scream sex, the way everything Damon said or did screamed it.
“You’ve piqued my curiosity, Rick,” Damon called. Alaric stopped a foot away from the door. “To what do I owe this late-night pleasure?”
“I just want a drink,” Alaric said.
“You didn’t sound like you just wanted a drink.”
“Okay. I want a lot of drinks,” Alaric replied. “Are you going to let me in, or should I get back in my car?”
Damon tsked and stepped out of the doorway, gesturing Alaric inside.
“Touchy, touchy,” he said. “What crawled up your ass tonight?”
Alaric brushed by him and Damon closed the door.
“Do me a favor,” Alaric said. “Don’t ask me any questions about – ”
“About your little mood?” Damon raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Alaric allowed. Damon looked at him intently for a moment, then gave a little shrug and started walking down the hall.
“This way to the booze,” he called over his shoulder.
***
Scotch in hand, Alaric watched Damon add another log onto the fire blazing in the Salvarores’ library.
“This is a beautiful room,” he said, partly because he wanted something to say. He didn’t like the idea of silence right now. But it was an impressive room. He hadn’t really taken stock of it the first time he’d been there. The whole murder mission aspect of the visit had sort of put a damper on his interest in old books and wood paneling.
Damon replaced the fire poker and glanced around the room.
“It’s nice enough,” he acknowledged, picking up his drink from the mantle. “Something to come home to. Hey, remember when you died in front of this fireplace?” He drew an invisible line on the carpet with his toe. “Right about there, if I remember correctly.”
Alaric glared at him.
“Well, what do you want?” Damon asked defensively. He flopped down on the other side of the sofa Alaric was occupying. “I can’t ask what’s got you so keyed up, and you put the kibosh on reminiscing about your wife hours ago. Besides her and the fact that we tried to kill each other one time, we don’t have much in common. I’m just looking for a good conversation starter.”
“Why do you always have to do that?” Alaric demanded.
“Do what?”
“Try to piss everybody – ” Alaric cut himself off. He knew Damon was trying to get a reaction, and he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Even if Damon was only trying to distract him (and he wouldn’t put it past him; Damon’s ability to unexpectedly show compassion was his most unnerving quality), Alaric didn’t want to argue. He was too weary.
“Fine, tell me about Isobel,” Alaric said abruptly, sitting back and sipping his drink. Damon looked surprised, and Alaric felt a little smug that he’d caught him off-guard.
The trademark half-smirk slid quickly back into place, however.
“What do you want to know?” Damon asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, drink held carelessly in his fingers.
“I don’t know. Anything.” Alaric quickly thought better of that. “Tell me, did she…did she ever mention me?”
“Oh, not beating around the bush tonight, are we?” Damon said. “I thought you were moving on.” Alaric looked at him, and Damon’s smile dried up. He looked away and took a drink.
“A couple times,” he said. “I knew she was married. But she didn’t really want to talk about you. I assumed she’d married below her – dumb or ugly or an asshole.”
“And then you met me, and discovered I was all three, right?” Alaric said sarcastically. He realized he was drunker than he’d thought. He shouldn’t have pounded that first glass. It had been a generous pour.
Damon’s eyes were on him again.
“That’s not what I was going to say,” he said evenly, without a hint of his usual, perpetually joking attitude.
That gaze was more than Alaric could handle, and when he went to drink and cover his nervousness, he found his glass was empty.
“Let me get that for you,” Damon said. The glass was snatched out of Alaric’s hand and Damon was refilling it in one blink. When he resettled himself on the couch, Damon stretched his legs out. His feet ended up centimeters from Alaric’s lap.
“Why did you become a vampire?” Alaric asked.
“Because I was an idiot,” Damon replied shortly. At Alaric’s questioning look, he sighed. “Because I wanted to be with the woman I loved.”
“Funny,” Alaric said. “That’s what I wanted, too.” He slumped back against the sofa and stared into the fire.
“Cliché warning,” Damon said. “But it has to be said: women.” He sighed. “Heartbreakers all, aren’t they? Things are simpler with men, but then, I never seem to fall as hard.”
Alaric looked at him so fast he thought he might get whiplash.
“You’re not – ”
Damon raised his eyebrows at him.
“All vampires are at least a little bisexual, Rick,” he said. “Eventually, anyway. You get curious after a lifetime or so.”
“But Stefan,” Alaric tried. “He isn’t – ”
“Stefan’s been, shall we say, experimental, since early adolescence.”
Alaric gave a little laugh.
“Come on, how do you know that?”
“We’ve been brothers a long time,” Damon said. He took a sip of his drink. “I know a lot about him. Probably more than he’d like.”
They lapsed into silence, and Alaric downed his alcohol too fast, suddenly feeling the urge to get out of there. What had possessed him to come see Damon in the first place? It had seemed like the only option.
Alaric lurched to his feet, swaying. He was drunk; too drunk.
“I should go,” he said.
A little wind in his face, and Damon was standing close to him; too close. Alaric could smell his cologne. He was pretty sure it was Axe.
“Give me your keys,” Damon ordered. “You’re not driving home.”
“I’m not going to – ” Alaric felt a pressure at his thigh, then heard a jingling noise. Damon was holding his keys. He lurched forward and stumbled; Damon caught his arm and Alaric steadied himself.
“You’re not driving home,” Damon repeated, musingly this time. He didn’t let go of Alaric’s elbow. “I could call you a cab. Or – ” He paused for so long that Alaric looked at him to see what was wrong, and he got deer-in-headlights feeling he seemed to get so often when he met Damon’s eyes.
“Or,” Damon said again, “you could stay here.”
Alaric gaped. Damon wasn’t – what was he saying? Of course Damon didn’t mean – and even if he did, it’s not like Alaric would – no matter how drunk he was, or how blue the vampire’s eyes were –
“Rick,” Damon said. He snapped his fingers in front of Alaric’s face. “Stop staring at me like I just grew an extra head. Do you want to stay here? This place used to be a boarding house, you know. We have spare beds.”
Right.
“I should go home,” Alaric said, pleased to hear his voice wasn’t as slurred he feared it would be. Damon’s face didn’t change.
“I’ll call a cab,” he said.
Damon followed the cab in Alaric’s car and gave Alaric his keys back when they had safely reached the apartment door.
“Sweet dreams, Rick,” Damon said, too near to his face again. Why did Damon have to be a close-talker? And what was that eye thing he was always doing?
Damon was already halfway back to the waiting cab. Alaric quickly turned to fumble his way inside. All he wanted was to go to sleep. That was only thing he wanted.
***
“As a vampire, your instinct is not to feel,” Damon said. They were waiting outside the Grill while Elena met with Isobel, and neither of them was happy about it. “Isobel took the easier road. No guilt. No shame. No regret. I mean, come on, if you could turn it off, wouldn’t you?”
“You haven’t,” Alaric replied.
“Of course I have, Rick. That’s why I’m so fun to be around.” He fell silent for a moment, and there was something subtly different about his tone when he spoke again. “Isn’t that why you came to see me last night? No emotions, no mess. Just a drink.”
“I didn’t want to be alone,” Alaric replied. “It seemed like the simplest thing to do.”
“Exactly. You knew I wouldn’t care enough to make you tell me what was wrong. But I have to say, I’m a little hurt you kept such big news from me.” He said it like he was joking, but everything Damon said seemed to have a double meaning, and Alaric didn’t know what to think.
“I told you today,” Alaric pointed out. Was this why Damon had been extra touchy during the Isobel summit earlier? “Last night, I just – I wasn’t ready to talk about it.”
“Hey, I’m relieved,” Damon said, flaring his eye-beams. “The last thing I need is some teacher sobbing drunkenly on my shoulder about his dead wife.”
“The wife you killed,” Alaric said.
“Are you still hung up on that? Come on, Rick, it was years ago. I didn’t even know you then.”
Alaric looked at Damon quickly, but the vampire was staring into the distance again.
“Would it have made a difference if you had?” he asked.
Damon shrugged.
“These days, who can tell?” he muttered. Alaric couldn’t imagine what sort of response he could give to that, so they lapsed into silence.
***
Part 2
SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION: I'm reviewing The Vampire Diaries over at Affairs Magazine. Find my review for the most recent episode here (and you can find all the reviews under The Vampire Diaries tag at the bottom of the page). I'd be delighted if anyone wanted to check it out.
Part: 1/5
Author:
ellerkayPairing: Damon/Alaric
Rating: PG-13 (up to R or maybe NC-17 overall)
Wordcount: 1,989
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Spoilers: For this installment, spoilers through 1.21 "Isobel", with some dialogue lifted from the episode. (Series overall contains spoilers through 2.3, "Bad Moon Rising.")
Warnings: Eventual slash, drinking, a complete lack of plot
Summary: After the first encounter with Isobel, Alaric's ready to get drunk.
Series masterlist
Crossposted to
tvd_fic, tvd_slash, and damon_alaric. Apologies to anyone who gets spammed.Alaric grabbed Isobel’s note quickly, before it blew away. He got to his feet and looked after her, but she had already disappeared. With a sigh, he shoved the note in his pocket. The reunion hadn’t exactly been what he’d pictured, when he used to imagine that there was a chance Isobel could still be alive.
He wanted a drink. Well, another drink. Many more drinks. He glanced back at the noisy, crowded Grill. Being around a bunch of strangers sounded like a nightmare right now, but when he considered going home and drinking alone, he felt nauseous.
Jenna’s? He rejected the idea immediately. It wouldn’t be fair to her, when he’d just be thinking about his undead ex-wife. (Did she count as an ex, when they weren’t divorced? It made his head hurt to think about.) Besides, things were still strained between him and Jenna since she’d told him Isobel was Elena’s birth mother. And he might run into Elena. He wasn’t ready. He’d have to give her the note tomorrow, but it was going to take the light of day before he’d be able to face her.
That left one very bad option. Alaric pulled out his cell phone and wished he’d made more friends in Mystic Falls.
“Rick,” said Damon’s purring voice when he picked up on the third ring. “Miss me already?”
“Is Stefan home?” Alaric asked.
“Can’t you call him yourself and find out?” Damon’s voice was sharper now.
“Just – please, Damon,” Alaric said desperately. “Just tell me if he’s there.” If Stefan was there, Elena might be, too.
Damon was silent for a moment, Alaric’s tone obviously giving him pause.
“Nope,” he said finally. “There was drama, there was blah blah, and I thought Elena was staying over, but they decided to run off to her place. So I’m all by my lonesome.”
“Good. I’m coming over,” Alaric said, and hung up the phone before Damon had a chance to respond.
As he got into his car and started to drive to the Salvatores,’ he expected to hear his phone ring; Damon calling to tell him to stay away, or at least demanding to know why he was visiting. But the phone stayed silent, and in fifteen minutes, Alaric was parking at the top of the boarding house driveway.
Damon opened the door as Alaric approached, and he leaned against the doorframe. The position seemed to scream sex, the way everything Damon said or did screamed it.
“You’ve piqued my curiosity, Rick,” Damon called. Alaric stopped a foot away from the door. “To what do I owe this late-night pleasure?”
“I just want a drink,” Alaric said.
“You didn’t sound like you just wanted a drink.”
“Okay. I want a lot of drinks,” Alaric replied. “Are you going to let me in, or should I get back in my car?”
Damon tsked and stepped out of the doorway, gesturing Alaric inside.
“Touchy, touchy,” he said. “What crawled up your ass tonight?”
Alaric brushed by him and Damon closed the door.
“Do me a favor,” Alaric said. “Don’t ask me any questions about – ”
“About your little mood?” Damon raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Alaric allowed. Damon looked at him intently for a moment, then gave a little shrug and started walking down the hall.
“This way to the booze,” he called over his shoulder.
***
Scotch in hand, Alaric watched Damon add another log onto the fire blazing in the Salvarores’ library.
“This is a beautiful room,” he said, partly because he wanted something to say. He didn’t like the idea of silence right now. But it was an impressive room. He hadn’t really taken stock of it the first time he’d been there. The whole murder mission aspect of the visit had sort of put a damper on his interest in old books and wood paneling.
Damon replaced the fire poker and glanced around the room.
“It’s nice enough,” he acknowledged, picking up his drink from the mantle. “Something to come home to. Hey, remember when you died in front of this fireplace?” He drew an invisible line on the carpet with his toe. “Right about there, if I remember correctly.”
Alaric glared at him.
“Well, what do you want?” Damon asked defensively. He flopped down on the other side of the sofa Alaric was occupying. “I can’t ask what’s got you so keyed up, and you put the kibosh on reminiscing about your wife hours ago. Besides her and the fact that we tried to kill each other one time, we don’t have much in common. I’m just looking for a good conversation starter.”
“Why do you always have to do that?” Alaric demanded.
“Do what?”
“Try to piss everybody – ” Alaric cut himself off. He knew Damon was trying to get a reaction, and he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Even if Damon was only trying to distract him (and he wouldn’t put it past him; Damon’s ability to unexpectedly show compassion was his most unnerving quality), Alaric didn’t want to argue. He was too weary.
“Fine, tell me about Isobel,” Alaric said abruptly, sitting back and sipping his drink. Damon looked surprised, and Alaric felt a little smug that he’d caught him off-guard.
The trademark half-smirk slid quickly back into place, however.
“What do you want to know?” Damon asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, drink held carelessly in his fingers.
“I don’t know. Anything.” Alaric quickly thought better of that. “Tell me, did she…did she ever mention me?”
“Oh, not beating around the bush tonight, are we?” Damon said. “I thought you were moving on.” Alaric looked at him, and Damon’s smile dried up. He looked away and took a drink.
“A couple times,” he said. “I knew she was married. But she didn’t really want to talk about you. I assumed she’d married below her – dumb or ugly or an asshole.”
“And then you met me, and discovered I was all three, right?” Alaric said sarcastically. He realized he was drunker than he’d thought. He shouldn’t have pounded that first glass. It had been a generous pour.
Damon’s eyes were on him again.
“That’s not what I was going to say,” he said evenly, without a hint of his usual, perpetually joking attitude.
That gaze was more than Alaric could handle, and when he went to drink and cover his nervousness, he found his glass was empty.
“Let me get that for you,” Damon said. The glass was snatched out of Alaric’s hand and Damon was refilling it in one blink. When he resettled himself on the couch, Damon stretched his legs out. His feet ended up centimeters from Alaric’s lap.
“Why did you become a vampire?” Alaric asked.
“Because I was an idiot,” Damon replied shortly. At Alaric’s questioning look, he sighed. “Because I wanted to be with the woman I loved.”
“Funny,” Alaric said. “That’s what I wanted, too.” He slumped back against the sofa and stared into the fire.
“Cliché warning,” Damon said. “But it has to be said: women.” He sighed. “Heartbreakers all, aren’t they? Things are simpler with men, but then, I never seem to fall as hard.”
Alaric looked at him so fast he thought he might get whiplash.
“You’re not – ”
Damon raised his eyebrows at him.
“All vampires are at least a little bisexual, Rick,” he said. “Eventually, anyway. You get curious after a lifetime or so.”
“But Stefan,” Alaric tried. “He isn’t – ”
“Stefan’s been, shall we say, experimental, since early adolescence.”
Alaric gave a little laugh.
“Come on, how do you know that?”
“We’ve been brothers a long time,” Damon said. He took a sip of his drink. “I know a lot about him. Probably more than he’d like.”
They lapsed into silence, and Alaric downed his alcohol too fast, suddenly feeling the urge to get out of there. What had possessed him to come see Damon in the first place? It had seemed like the only option.
Alaric lurched to his feet, swaying. He was drunk; too drunk.
“I should go,” he said.
A little wind in his face, and Damon was standing close to him; too close. Alaric could smell his cologne. He was pretty sure it was Axe.
“Give me your keys,” Damon ordered. “You’re not driving home.”
“I’m not going to – ” Alaric felt a pressure at his thigh, then heard a jingling noise. Damon was holding his keys. He lurched forward and stumbled; Damon caught his arm and Alaric steadied himself.
“You’re not driving home,” Damon repeated, musingly this time. He didn’t let go of Alaric’s elbow. “I could call you a cab. Or – ” He paused for so long that Alaric looked at him to see what was wrong, and he got deer-in-headlights feeling he seemed to get so often when he met Damon’s eyes.
“Or,” Damon said again, “you could stay here.”
Alaric gaped. Damon wasn’t – what was he saying? Of course Damon didn’t mean – and even if he did, it’s not like Alaric would – no matter how drunk he was, or how blue the vampire’s eyes were –
“Rick,” Damon said. He snapped his fingers in front of Alaric’s face. “Stop staring at me like I just grew an extra head. Do you want to stay here? This place used to be a boarding house, you know. We have spare beds.”
Right.
“I should go home,” Alaric said, pleased to hear his voice wasn’t as slurred he feared it would be. Damon’s face didn’t change.
“I’ll call a cab,” he said.
Damon followed the cab in Alaric’s car and gave Alaric his keys back when they had safely reached the apartment door.
“Sweet dreams, Rick,” Damon said, too near to his face again. Why did Damon have to be a close-talker? And what was that eye thing he was always doing?
Damon was already halfway back to the waiting cab. Alaric quickly turned to fumble his way inside. All he wanted was to go to sleep. That was only thing he wanted.
***
“As a vampire, your instinct is not to feel,” Damon said. They were waiting outside the Grill while Elena met with Isobel, and neither of them was happy about it. “Isobel took the easier road. No guilt. No shame. No regret. I mean, come on, if you could turn it off, wouldn’t you?”
“You haven’t,” Alaric replied.
“Of course I have, Rick. That’s why I’m so fun to be around.” He fell silent for a moment, and there was something subtly different about his tone when he spoke again. “Isn’t that why you came to see me last night? No emotions, no mess. Just a drink.”
“I didn’t want to be alone,” Alaric replied. “It seemed like the simplest thing to do.”
“Exactly. You knew I wouldn’t care enough to make you tell me what was wrong. But I have to say, I’m a little hurt you kept such big news from me.” He said it like he was joking, but everything Damon said seemed to have a double meaning, and Alaric didn’t know what to think.
“I told you today,” Alaric pointed out. Was this why Damon had been extra touchy during the Isobel summit earlier? “Last night, I just – I wasn’t ready to talk about it.”
“Hey, I’m relieved,” Damon said, flaring his eye-beams. “The last thing I need is some teacher sobbing drunkenly on my shoulder about his dead wife.”
“The wife you killed,” Alaric said.
“Are you still hung up on that? Come on, Rick, it was years ago. I didn’t even know you then.”
Alaric looked at Damon quickly, but the vampire was staring into the distance again.
“Would it have made a difference if you had?” he asked.
Damon shrugged.
“These days, who can tell?” he muttered. Alaric couldn’t imagine what sort of response he could give to that, so they lapsed into silence.
***
Part 2
SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION: I'm reviewing The Vampire Diaries over at Affairs Magazine. Find my review for the most recent episode here (and you can find all the reviews under The Vampire Diaries tag at the bottom of the page). I'd be delighted if anyone wanted to check it out.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-21 12:31 am (UTC)This was great. I loved how you kept their history intact, and how you set up getting them together without rushing into it.
I had lots of favorite lines, but this one made me grin - such an Alaric thought.
He hadn’t really taken stock of it the first time he’d been there. The whole murder mission aspect of the visit had sort of put a damper on his interest in old books and wood paneling.
Please tell me parts 2-5 are already well underway???
Also - You have a typo in your header. For spoilers, it should read 1.21 (not 2.21). Don't want someone not reading because they haven't seen S2.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-21 01:20 am (UTC)Thanks for pointing out the typo! I definitely wouldn't want to mess anyone up.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-21 04:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-21 03:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-21 10:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-21 03:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-21 01:49 pm (UTC)Why did Damon have to be a close-talker? And what was that eye thing he was always doing?
So true!
Looking forward to reading the rest!
no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-22 02:31 am (UTC)<3
En
no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 05:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 08:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 06:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-24 11:42 pm (UTC)Love your story. There isn't enough Damon/Alaric and their (b)romance out there.
Please update soon!!
no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-28 04:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-29 04:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-25 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-26 03:48 am (UTC)Btw, icon looooove. I'm just going to stare at it for the next few hours.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-26 07:40 pm (UTC)Thank you~ though I need to make more Damon icons. :o