@kat-cornwell replied to your post: Someone tell me that reblogging my entire dalaricā¦
YOU KNOW WHAT IāVE BEEN READING TODAY? DALARIC. PSYCHIC CONNECTION.
Oh no. Is it good? I havenāt read any dalaric fic in so long
Itās some time during Josie and Lizzieās third month on the planet that Alaric wakes up in hospital because heās forgotten to eat or drink a glass of water for three days while the girls screamed incessantly for reasons he couldnāt figure out. He wakes feeling good. Rested. And when he realizes itās because heās not staring at the cracked ceiling above his bed, or the cornice near the couch, or even the kitchen counter, but at the ceiling of a hospital room, he tries to fling himself physically from the bed.
āSlow down,ā comes a familiar voice. āI think they prefer you to have those needles in your arm, not flapping around. Speaking of flapping around. Nice nightgown. More to the point, nice ass.ā
Alaric is too stunned to argue, and sits on the edge of the hospital bed. Josie is cradled in Damonās arms. sucking a bottle down determinedly.
āWhat are you doing here?ā
Damon looks slightly resentful at Alaricās phrasing. People are supposed to either shoot at him, or be so grateful for his presence that they physically swoon. But he only shrugs, in the end. āHeard you might need some help from someone who doesnāt have either classes or a life. And also isnāt evil.ā He considers for a moment. āOr not that evil. Caroline threatened Stefan with a stake if he didnāt get word to me. She and Bonnie found you. Thought you were dead.ā
Alaric climbs back under the covers because if his girls are safeā¦ and thereās Lizzie in a crib at Damonās side, and Alaric is too tired to ask to hold her. Itās not an overall good sign. But safe. And he can crawl back under the blanket for a while. And then there are nurses, and a doctor, and Alaric says if heās not allowed a pair of pajamas or something that doesnāt leave his ass flapping in the breeze heās taking the girls and walking home.
In an ancient Duke t-shirt and matching sweats that someone brought in a duffel bag, Alaric eats a proper meal for the first time in a while, and watches while Damon coos over his girls, one after the other. He only rarely looks up, and Alaric has to remember that there was a time when Damon wanted nothing more than this.
āHow much do you know about babies?ā he asks.
āAbout as much as you did a year ago,ā Damon answers, quite reasonably. Lizzie is fast asleep with her face tucked against his neck, but heās doing it right, supporting her head. It suits him. The energy that always seems coiled in Damon like an angry snake is gone. Damon kisses Lizzieās head, and Alaric wonders if he likes the baby smell. It keeps Alaric going, most days, that smell, when heās got nothing left to go on. Ā
āAnd youāre staying a while?ā
Damon holds Alaricās eyes for a long minute. āEat,ā he says, and stands up, to put Lizzie back in the cot, on her back, like someoneās talked him through the basics. āHow does someone like you forget to eat? The only time you donāt have food in your hand is when youāre actively killing something.ā
He shuffles the sheets around Josieās still body, and perches on the edge of Alaricās bed to pick at his plate, the way he used to do. Alaric doesnāt bother to argue. Arguing with Damon is like arguing with a cat.
āTheyāll let you leave in the morning. Want to play cards? Monopoly? No, you suck at Monopoly. Scrabble. Theyāre taking the girls in a minute. Make sure you get ten hours.ā
Alaric nods because heās still exhausted and if they wake him crying he might lose his mind.
Scrabble it is, then, until Alaric falls asleep with two Js and a Z on the rack. Heās already won anyway.
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