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Feb. 11th, 2011 11:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayTitle: Frienemies
Part: 4/5
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ellerkay
Pairing: Damon/Alaric
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 2,500
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Spoilers: Through 2.3, "Bad Moon Rising."
Warnings: Slash, drinking, swearing, a complete lack of plot
Summary: Post-roadtrip, Alaric isn't doing what he should be.
A/N: I hope it's worth the wait!
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 didn’t see much of Damon until the road trip to Duke. Damon had obviously elected to pretend like nothing had happened between them, which Alaric was glad of when they were in front of Elena. And, he told himself, the rest of the time. Damon was focused on Elena for most of the trip, trying to get back into her good graces. This didn’t bother Alaric at all. He told himself.
Going to Duke helped Alaric feel better about the craziness that was everything about Isobel since her disappearance. Finally, he had no good excuse not to go see Jenna. He decided he would go as soon as they got back to Mystic Falls.
Except that he didn’t.
***
When he opened the door and saw Alaric, Damon narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“You know, Rick, there are liquor stores in Mystic Falls,” he said.
“I didn’t come here for alcohol.”
“What, then? Is there a new supernatural big bad on the loose? Did your wife’s research indicate the presence of malevolent pixies in the next county over?” He cocked his head. “Don’t tell me this is a social call. That was a one-time thing – oh, I’m sorry, two-time.”
“Can I come in?” Alaric tried. Damon didn’t move.
“Why are you here?” he asked, enunciating clearly, as if talking to someone none too bright.
“I don’t know!” Alaric blurted out.
Damon raised his eyebrows at him. Alaric tried to collect himself.
“I mean, I’m not sure. You seemed sort of…off, today. I thought you might want to talk.”
“Oh, you thought I might want to talk. Project much? Listen, Rick, here’s what happened between us. We fucked once, and it was fun. We fucked again, and it was…well, it was kind of mean.” Alaric flushed with shame under Damon’s steely gaze. “This does not add up to us being best friends and sharing our feelings.” He started to close the door.
“I’m sorry,” Alaric said quietly. The door swung open again.
“What did you say?” Damon demanded.
“I said, I’m sorry,” Alaric repeated. “If I was…mean.” Damon stared at him. “I was angry, but I shouldn’t have – I should have just said no, not done what I did.”
“Let me get this straight. I killed someone, and you’re apologizing to me?”
Alaric shrugged and managed a half-smile.
“Weird, huh?” he said. Damon’s eyes still hadn’t left his.
“I assumed you hated me. Like Elena. And everyone.” His mouth twisted bitterly.
“You said you were sorry for it,” Alaric replied.
“I don’t remember saying that.”
Alaric refused to take the bait.
“Close enough,” he replied. “I take it that wasn’t enough for Elena?”
Damon frowned.
“I am not going to stand on the doorstep and discuss Elena Gilbert with you,” he said. Alaric nodded and started to turn away.
“Come inside, Rick,” Damon clarified in a long-suffering tone.
***
Alaric wasn’t particularly surprised that once he got inside, Damon avoided talking about Elena and started pouring them drinks instead. Alaric sat on one of the couches while Damon stoked the fire and added another log. Then – and this was a bit of a surprise – Damon sprawled on the carpet in front of the fireplace, instead of joining Alaric on the couch. A few sips of brandy later and Alaric had joined him on the floor, carefully not thinking about why he was doing that. Carefully ignoring his failure to ignore the urge to be closer to the vampire.
Damon watched the fire moodily. He took a large swallow of his drink.
“So, Rick, you’re an academic. You’ve studied vampires. Tell me…why do you think I’m such a fucking idiot?”
“Well, that’s a broad question, Damon. In what specific area?”
Damon’s smile was really a grimace. “Take a guess.” He drank again, his glass nearly empty already.
Alaric sipped to give himself a moment to think. “You’ve been hurt,” he said finally, uncomfortably. “I can relate. I mean, Katherine was – ”
Damon exhaled loudly. “Jesus, don't you know a rhetorical question when you hear one?” He threw back the rest of the drink and banged his glass down on the floor. Considering Damon’s strength, Alaric was amazed it didn’t shatter. Damon went back to staring into the fire, and Alaric tried to think of what he should say.
“I’m sorry – ” Alaric started.
“Stop apologizing,” Damon snapped, but without any real enthusiasm.
“Okay,” Alaric said. He set his glass down on the hardwood floor and moved a little closer to Damon. He stretched his legs out and rested on his hands, staring into the fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Damon look at him, so he looked back. Damon was frowning deeply, but more as if he was puzzled than as if he was angry.
His expression cleared a little and he moved in very slowly. Alaric’s heart pounded, but Damon stopped with his lips centimeters from Alaric’s.
“Why don’t you hate me?” he asked very softly. Alaric shook his head a little.
“I don’t know,” he replied in a low voice.
Damon kissed him then, long and slow. Alaric’s hands hurt and his back was cramping, but he didn’t want to stop the velvet brush of Damon’s tongue in his mouth, didn’t ever want to stop when Damon gave a small moan against his lips. As if it was a signal they kissed harder then, and Damon grabbed Alaric’s shirt with one hand and yanked him closer, and then Alaric was on his back on the floor, Damon straddling his leg and running his hands over Alaric’s chest, his stomach.
“Stefan – ?” Alaric started to ask.
“Do you have to call out my brother’s name?”
“Is he home?” Alaric finished.
Damon bent down so his lips were right next to Alaric’s ear. “No,” he whispered. Alaric had never thought of it as a sexy word before. He caught Damon’s lips and pulled himself up into a seated position. Damon was making fast work of Alaric’s shirt, and when he had it off he flung it away. Alaric pulled Damon’s shirt over his head, surprising himself with his own eagerness as he ducked his head to kiss Damon’s shoulder, his neck. Damon was silent at the treatment, which made Alaric nervous. Silence from Damon, who always had an answer and an opinion and a snarky comment, felt eerily portentous.
But when Alaric looked up to try and read Damon’s face, Damon just kissed him until he was short of breath.
“Lie down,” Damon murmured when he allowed Alaric some air, and Alaric obeyed. For a moment Damon just stared at him, playing his fingers down Alaric’s torso. Alaric watched, noting how pale Damon’s skin looked in the firelight, especially next to his own ruddy complexion. The silence was just starting to make him anxious when Damon leaned down and started kissing his way down Alaric’s chest. Alaric’s breath caught and he arched upward. Damon’s fingers were at his fly, and in a few seconds he was sliding Alaric’s pants off.
Damon pulled Alaric’s boxers down but didn’t bother taking them off, and a second later he was licking a slow line up his cock. Alaric groaned, groping out blindly, his hand landing on Damon’s shoulder. Damon was teasing him with short licks around the head of Alaric’s cock. Alaric’s breath came fast, and finally Damon took him slowly down his throat. Alaric thrust up without meaning to, and Damon ran his tongue along his shaft.
“Fuck, you’re good at that,” Alaric gasped out. Damon lifted off and smirked at him.
“A hundred plus years of practice has its advantages,” he said, and lowered his head again.
For a few minutes the room was nearly silent except for Alaric’s moans and the crackle of the fire. Alaric was loathe to stop any of this, but his back gave a twinge and he suddenly worried that Stefan would arrive home. Reluctantly, he squeezed Damon’s shoulder and Damon raised his head.
“Maybe we should go upstairs?” Alaric said. Damon got to his feet and offered Alaric a hand up. Alaric had barely gotten his boxers pulled up again before Damon had grabbed him around the waist and thrown him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
“Damn it, Damon!” Alaric shouted, starting to laugh in spite of himself. Damon snickered and they were upstairs before Alaric could get really annoyed. It was mildly preferable to the Clark Gable treatment, anyway.
“You’re an asshole,” Alaric said, still smiling, when Damon had thrown him on the bed.
“Fuck you, Rick,” Damon replied affably.
Alaric swallowed. “If you want to,” he said. Damon looked at him, and then he was suddenly right in Alaric’s face.
“If this is a tit for tat deal, I’m not interested.” He sounded a little angry, and Alaric frowned. “I don’t want you apologizing to me again.” He stared intently into Alaric’s eyes.
“That’s not why I’m offering,” Alaric said finally.
“No?” Damon narrowed his eyes at him, then grinned suddenly. “Good. Lie down.”
Alaric smiled a little, and lay down, pulling off his boxers as he did. He watched Damon strip off the rest of his clothes, just slowly enough to make it a bit of a show. Damon grabbed a bottle out of his nightstand table and joined him on the bed, slicking his fingers.
“Tell you’ve done this before,” Damon said, circling Alaric’s entrance with a slippery finger.
“Yeah,” Alaric said, gasping as Damon pushed slowly into him. “But it’s, uh…” He breathed slowly, getting used to the sensation. “It’s been awhile.”
“I’ll have to be gentle, then,” Damon murmured. He took his time, stretching Alaric until Alaric was writhing under him.
“Enough,” he said finally. “I’m ready, already.”
Damon grinned again and withdrew his fingers. A moment later he was sliding in. Alaric groaned, hips rising to meet him. Damon exhaled sharply.
“Fuck,” he said, leaning down to kiss Alaric fiercely. He wrapped his hand around Alaric’s cock and started thrusting, timing the long, slow strokes with the movement of his hand.
He went on like this for long minutes that seemed longer, barely increasing his pace, occasionally raising his eyes to Alaric’s face to gauge his reactions. It occurred to Alaric at some point that this was the polar opposite of when he’d fucked Damon. Maybe this was Damon’s version of revenge. Alaric firmly pushed the thought away, losing himself in the sensation, in how impossibly good this felt.
After what felt like hours, Damon started thrusting harder, gradually gaining speed. Alaric bucked when Damon hit his prostate and Damon stroked him faster; a twist of Damon’s hand and Alaric came, crying out. When he was done Damon released his cock and bent down to kiss him hard, coming with a strangled moan.
Kissing Damon, Alaric realized, tended to have an amnesiac effect on him. The blood that should have been running his brain rushed south, and he forgot things. That he really hadn’t intended to do this a third time. That it was starting to look more like a pattern than a random occurrence. That he was supposed to be reconciling with Jenna. That there was anything of any urgency or importance in the world besides his erection.
When the amnesia wore off, Damon was – as far as Alaric could tell – already asleep, and Alaric knew he should go home. But he was halfway to unconsciousness himself, and after all, the next day was Sunday, so he wouldn’t have to rush to school. He’d leave first thing in the morning.
***
When he woke up, Alaric was alone in the bed and sunlight streamed in through the windows. After relieving himself in the bathroom off Damon’s room, Alaric hunted for his clothes, finding only his boxers. The rest, he realized, were probably still strewn about the library.
Knowing one of Damon’s shirts would probably be uncomfortably small and tight, considering their differences in height and how Damon always seemed to wear clothing that was spray-painted on, Alaric elected not to borrow one and instead wandered downstairs in just his boxers, following the smell of coffee and the sound of movement to the kitchen.
“Morning,” Alaric called as he approached the doorway – and saw Stefan, who had turned at the sound of his voice and was now clearly at a loss. Alaric froze.
“Good morning,” Stefan said, blinking. “Uh, would you like some coffee?”
“Sure,” Alaric said, trying to pretend this wasn’t desperately awkward for them both. “I’m going to, um, try to find my clothes.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Stefan replied.
Alaric turned and walked as fast as he could without actually running to the library, where he found his shirt tossed over a lamp and his pants crumpled in a heap, half under a chair.
When he returned to the kitchen, Stefan asked how he wanted the coffee.
“Milk, no sugar,” Alaric replied, feeling only marginally less weird now that he was clothed. Stefan handed him a steaming mug and Alaric received it gratefully.
“Something to eat?” Stefan asked.
“Not yet, thanks,” Alaric replied. Stefan sat across from him and for a moment they both sipped their coffee in silence.
“Damon, uh, went for doughnuts,” Stefan said finally. “He should be back any minute.”
“Okay,” Alaric replied.
“He told me he had a guest, but he didn’t say it was you,” Stefan continued, watching Alaric carefully for a reaction. Alaric shrugged.
“It’s me,” he said.
“Look,” Stefan said. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. But Damon is – you know what he’s like.”
“I’ve met him, yeah.”
“And with Katherine running around – just, be careful. He’s not predictable.” Alaric nodded, and Stefan watched him take a sip of coffee. “And also…” He paused for a long time.
“What?” Alaric prompted him finally.
“He’s vulnerable. I know he doesn’t act it, but he is. Now more than I’ve seen him since before we became vampires. So if this is part of some plan to get revenge on Damon – ”
Alaric started to laugh and Stefan grabbed his wrist.
“If this is part of some revenge scheme, you should consider dropping it. Right now,” he said. His voice was hard. Alaric put down his coffee.
“Isobel made her own choices,” he said. “Damon didn’t force her. If it hadn’t been him, she would have found another vampire. I’ve had to accept that. I tried to keep hating him, after I found out the truth. But I couldn’t.”
Stefan released his arm, nodding.
“Okay, then,” he said.
“I’d prefer you didn’t tell Elena. For now,” Alaric said. “It’s just – with Jenna…”
“Okay,” Stefan said. He looked like he wanted to say more, but they heard the front door open and then slam shut.
“I’m home,” Damon singsonged. “Who wants jelly? Stefan, I’m looking at you…”
***
Part 5
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: 4/5
Author:
ellerkayPairing: Damon/Alaric
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 2,500
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Spoilers: Through 2.3, "Bad Moon Rising."
Warnings: Slash, drinking, swearing, a complete lack of plot
Summary: Post-roadtrip, Alaric isn't doing what he should be.
A/N: I hope it's worth the wait!
Series masterlist
Crossposted to
tvd_fic, tvd_slash, and damon_alaric. Apologies to anyone who gets spammed.***
Alaric didn’t see much of Damon until the road trip to Duke. Damon had obviously elected to pretend like nothing had happened between them, which Alaric was glad of when they were in front of Elena. And, he told himself, the rest of the time. Damon was focused on Elena for most of the trip, trying to get back into her good graces. This didn’t bother Alaric at all. He told himself.
Going to Duke helped Alaric feel better about the craziness that was everything about Isobel since her disappearance. Finally, he had no good excuse not to go see Jenna. He decided he would go as soon as they got back to Mystic Falls.
Except that he didn’t.
***
When he opened the door and saw Alaric, Damon narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“You know, Rick, there are liquor stores in Mystic Falls,” he said.
“I didn’t come here for alcohol.”
“What, then? Is there a new supernatural big bad on the loose? Did your wife’s research indicate the presence of malevolent pixies in the next county over?” He cocked his head. “Don’t tell me this is a social call. That was a one-time thing – oh, I’m sorry, two-time.”
“Can I come in?” Alaric tried. Damon didn’t move.
“Why are you here?” he asked, enunciating clearly, as if talking to someone none too bright.
“I don’t know!” Alaric blurted out.
Damon raised his eyebrows at him. Alaric tried to collect himself.
“I mean, I’m not sure. You seemed sort of…off, today. I thought you might want to talk.”
“Oh, you thought I might want to talk. Project much? Listen, Rick, here’s what happened between us. We fucked once, and it was fun. We fucked again, and it was…well, it was kind of mean.” Alaric flushed with shame under Damon’s steely gaze. “This does not add up to us being best friends and sharing our feelings.” He started to close the door.
“I’m sorry,” Alaric said quietly. The door swung open again.
“What did you say?” Damon demanded.
“I said, I’m sorry,” Alaric repeated. “If I was…mean.” Damon stared at him. “I was angry, but I shouldn’t have – I should have just said no, not done what I did.”
“Let me get this straight. I killed someone, and you’re apologizing to me?”
Alaric shrugged and managed a half-smile.
“Weird, huh?” he said. Damon’s eyes still hadn’t left his.
“I assumed you hated me. Like Elena. And everyone.” His mouth twisted bitterly.
“You said you were sorry for it,” Alaric replied.
“I don’t remember saying that.”
Alaric refused to take the bait.
“Close enough,” he replied. “I take it that wasn’t enough for Elena?”
Damon frowned.
“I am not going to stand on the doorstep and discuss Elena Gilbert with you,” he said. Alaric nodded and started to turn away.
“Come inside, Rick,” Damon clarified in a long-suffering tone.
***
Alaric wasn’t particularly surprised that once he got inside, Damon avoided talking about Elena and started pouring them drinks instead. Alaric sat on one of the couches while Damon stoked the fire and added another log. Then – and this was a bit of a surprise – Damon sprawled on the carpet in front of the fireplace, instead of joining Alaric on the couch. A few sips of brandy later and Alaric had joined him on the floor, carefully not thinking about why he was doing that. Carefully ignoring his failure to ignore the urge to be closer to the vampire.
Damon watched the fire moodily. He took a large swallow of his drink.
“So, Rick, you’re an academic. You’ve studied vampires. Tell me…why do you think I’m such a fucking idiot?”
“Well, that’s a broad question, Damon. In what specific area?”
Damon’s smile was really a grimace. “Take a guess.” He drank again, his glass nearly empty already.
Alaric sipped to give himself a moment to think. “You’ve been hurt,” he said finally, uncomfortably. “I can relate. I mean, Katherine was – ”
Damon exhaled loudly. “Jesus, don't you know a rhetorical question when you hear one?” He threw back the rest of the drink and banged his glass down on the floor. Considering Damon’s strength, Alaric was amazed it didn’t shatter. Damon went back to staring into the fire, and Alaric tried to think of what he should say.
“I’m sorry – ” Alaric started.
“Stop apologizing,” Damon snapped, but without any real enthusiasm.
“Okay,” Alaric said. He set his glass down on the hardwood floor and moved a little closer to Damon. He stretched his legs out and rested on his hands, staring into the fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Damon look at him, so he looked back. Damon was frowning deeply, but more as if he was puzzled than as if he was angry.
His expression cleared a little and he moved in very slowly. Alaric’s heart pounded, but Damon stopped with his lips centimeters from Alaric’s.
“Why don’t you hate me?” he asked very softly. Alaric shook his head a little.
“I don’t know,” he replied in a low voice.
Damon kissed him then, long and slow. Alaric’s hands hurt and his back was cramping, but he didn’t want to stop the velvet brush of Damon’s tongue in his mouth, didn’t ever want to stop when Damon gave a small moan against his lips. As if it was a signal they kissed harder then, and Damon grabbed Alaric’s shirt with one hand and yanked him closer, and then Alaric was on his back on the floor, Damon straddling his leg and running his hands over Alaric’s chest, his stomach.
“Stefan – ?” Alaric started to ask.
“Do you have to call out my brother’s name?”
“Is he home?” Alaric finished.
Damon bent down so his lips were right next to Alaric’s ear. “No,” he whispered. Alaric had never thought of it as a sexy word before. He caught Damon’s lips and pulled himself up into a seated position. Damon was making fast work of Alaric’s shirt, and when he had it off he flung it away. Alaric pulled Damon’s shirt over his head, surprising himself with his own eagerness as he ducked his head to kiss Damon’s shoulder, his neck. Damon was silent at the treatment, which made Alaric nervous. Silence from Damon, who always had an answer and an opinion and a snarky comment, felt eerily portentous.
But when Alaric looked up to try and read Damon’s face, Damon just kissed him until he was short of breath.
“Lie down,” Damon murmured when he allowed Alaric some air, and Alaric obeyed. For a moment Damon just stared at him, playing his fingers down Alaric’s torso. Alaric watched, noting how pale Damon’s skin looked in the firelight, especially next to his own ruddy complexion. The silence was just starting to make him anxious when Damon leaned down and started kissing his way down Alaric’s chest. Alaric’s breath caught and he arched upward. Damon’s fingers were at his fly, and in a few seconds he was sliding Alaric’s pants off.
Damon pulled Alaric’s boxers down but didn’t bother taking them off, and a second later he was licking a slow line up his cock. Alaric groaned, groping out blindly, his hand landing on Damon’s shoulder. Damon was teasing him with short licks around the head of Alaric’s cock. Alaric’s breath came fast, and finally Damon took him slowly down his throat. Alaric thrust up without meaning to, and Damon ran his tongue along his shaft.
“Fuck, you’re good at that,” Alaric gasped out. Damon lifted off and smirked at him.
“A hundred plus years of practice has its advantages,” he said, and lowered his head again.
For a few minutes the room was nearly silent except for Alaric’s moans and the crackle of the fire. Alaric was loathe to stop any of this, but his back gave a twinge and he suddenly worried that Stefan would arrive home. Reluctantly, he squeezed Damon’s shoulder and Damon raised his head.
“Maybe we should go upstairs?” Alaric said. Damon got to his feet and offered Alaric a hand up. Alaric had barely gotten his boxers pulled up again before Damon had grabbed him around the waist and thrown him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
“Damn it, Damon!” Alaric shouted, starting to laugh in spite of himself. Damon snickered and they were upstairs before Alaric could get really annoyed. It was mildly preferable to the Clark Gable treatment, anyway.
“You’re an asshole,” Alaric said, still smiling, when Damon had thrown him on the bed.
“Fuck you, Rick,” Damon replied affably.
Alaric swallowed. “If you want to,” he said. Damon looked at him, and then he was suddenly right in Alaric’s face.
“If this is a tit for tat deal, I’m not interested.” He sounded a little angry, and Alaric frowned. “I don’t want you apologizing to me again.” He stared intently into Alaric’s eyes.
“That’s not why I’m offering,” Alaric said finally.
“No?” Damon narrowed his eyes at him, then grinned suddenly. “Good. Lie down.”
Alaric smiled a little, and lay down, pulling off his boxers as he did. He watched Damon strip off the rest of his clothes, just slowly enough to make it a bit of a show. Damon grabbed a bottle out of his nightstand table and joined him on the bed, slicking his fingers.
“Tell you’ve done this before,” Damon said, circling Alaric’s entrance with a slippery finger.
“Yeah,” Alaric said, gasping as Damon pushed slowly into him. “But it’s, uh…” He breathed slowly, getting used to the sensation. “It’s been awhile.”
“I’ll have to be gentle, then,” Damon murmured. He took his time, stretching Alaric until Alaric was writhing under him.
“Enough,” he said finally. “I’m ready, already.”
Damon grinned again and withdrew his fingers. A moment later he was sliding in. Alaric groaned, hips rising to meet him. Damon exhaled sharply.
“Fuck,” he said, leaning down to kiss Alaric fiercely. He wrapped his hand around Alaric’s cock and started thrusting, timing the long, slow strokes with the movement of his hand.
He went on like this for long minutes that seemed longer, barely increasing his pace, occasionally raising his eyes to Alaric’s face to gauge his reactions. It occurred to Alaric at some point that this was the polar opposite of when he’d fucked Damon. Maybe this was Damon’s version of revenge. Alaric firmly pushed the thought away, losing himself in the sensation, in how impossibly good this felt.
After what felt like hours, Damon started thrusting harder, gradually gaining speed. Alaric bucked when Damon hit his prostate and Damon stroked him faster; a twist of Damon’s hand and Alaric came, crying out. When he was done Damon released his cock and bent down to kiss him hard, coming with a strangled moan.
Kissing Damon, Alaric realized, tended to have an amnesiac effect on him. The blood that should have been running his brain rushed south, and he forgot things. That he really hadn’t intended to do this a third time. That it was starting to look more like a pattern than a random occurrence. That he was supposed to be reconciling with Jenna. That there was anything of any urgency or importance in the world besides his erection.
When the amnesia wore off, Damon was – as far as Alaric could tell – already asleep, and Alaric knew he should go home. But he was halfway to unconsciousness himself, and after all, the next day was Sunday, so he wouldn’t have to rush to school. He’d leave first thing in the morning.
***
When he woke up, Alaric was alone in the bed and sunlight streamed in through the windows. After relieving himself in the bathroom off Damon’s room, Alaric hunted for his clothes, finding only his boxers. The rest, he realized, were probably still strewn about the library.
Knowing one of Damon’s shirts would probably be uncomfortably small and tight, considering their differences in height and how Damon always seemed to wear clothing that was spray-painted on, Alaric elected not to borrow one and instead wandered downstairs in just his boxers, following the smell of coffee and the sound of movement to the kitchen.
“Morning,” Alaric called as he approached the doorway – and saw Stefan, who had turned at the sound of his voice and was now clearly at a loss. Alaric froze.
“Good morning,” Stefan said, blinking. “Uh, would you like some coffee?”
“Sure,” Alaric said, trying to pretend this wasn’t desperately awkward for them both. “I’m going to, um, try to find my clothes.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Stefan replied.
Alaric turned and walked as fast as he could without actually running to the library, where he found his shirt tossed over a lamp and his pants crumpled in a heap, half under a chair.
When he returned to the kitchen, Stefan asked how he wanted the coffee.
“Milk, no sugar,” Alaric replied, feeling only marginally less weird now that he was clothed. Stefan handed him a steaming mug and Alaric received it gratefully.
“Something to eat?” Stefan asked.
“Not yet, thanks,” Alaric replied. Stefan sat across from him and for a moment they both sipped their coffee in silence.
“Damon, uh, went for doughnuts,” Stefan said finally. “He should be back any minute.”
“Okay,” Alaric replied.
“He told me he had a guest, but he didn’t say it was you,” Stefan continued, watching Alaric carefully for a reaction. Alaric shrugged.
“It’s me,” he said.
“Look,” Stefan said. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. But Damon is – you know what he’s like.”
“I’ve met him, yeah.”
“And with Katherine running around – just, be careful. He’s not predictable.” Alaric nodded, and Stefan watched him take a sip of coffee. “And also…” He paused for a long time.
“What?” Alaric prompted him finally.
“He’s vulnerable. I know he doesn’t act it, but he is. Now more than I’ve seen him since before we became vampires. So if this is part of some plan to get revenge on Damon – ”
Alaric started to laugh and Stefan grabbed his wrist.
“If this is part of some revenge scheme, you should consider dropping it. Right now,” he said. His voice was hard. Alaric put down his coffee.
“Isobel made her own choices,” he said. “Damon didn’t force her. If it hadn’t been him, she would have found another vampire. I’ve had to accept that. I tried to keep hating him, after I found out the truth. But I couldn’t.”
Stefan released his arm, nodding.
“Okay, then,” he said.
“I’d prefer you didn’t tell Elena. For now,” Alaric said. “It’s just – with Jenna…”
“Okay,” Stefan said. He looked like he wanted to say more, but they heard the front door open and then slam shut.
“I’m home,” Damon singsonged. “Who wants jelly? Stefan, I’m looking at you…”
***
Part 5
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.
