Goodybe my almost lover

Double-Muse-blog for Alaric Saltzman & Damon Salvatore 1 on 1 blog single-ship(s) with allroundlostcause & Ricsidiotbestfriend Not open for plotting tracking donthaveagoodside (Damon) vampirehunterbynight (Alaric) xalmostxloverx

[ricsidiotbestfriend]

Hmm. Apparently Alaric wasn’t in the mood for Damon’s exceptional charm. He didn’t look quite as grateful as Damon would have expected a man to be, on release from jail, but there was still the whole ‘wife is a vampire’ thing to get past…

Alright, Damon was committed to trying not to be a dick. It clashed with the guardian angel business. And It had been a very long time since he’d had a guardian angel gig; he was determined to do a decent job. Something about Alaric’s eyes all pathetically sad like that put him off being a complete douche.

Damon opened the car door for Alaric, and moved around to the driver’s side. Contemplating. Take him home? He probably didn’t want to go there, no matter what he was saying now. There was, on the other hand, and excellent dive bar adjacent to a motel only a short drive away, and that seemed like as good a place to start as any.

He stayed silent as he drove, pulling up outside the motel to procure a key (angels could be very persuasive). Back in the car, he guided it carefully to the place in front of their room, no doubt a hideous clash of colors, but the receptionist had promised that the shower pressure was A+.

“There’s a bag of clothes on the back seat,” Damon said, parking. “They’ll fit, don’t worry. Toothbrush and toothpaste. And right around that corner is a bar that doesn’t close until six in the morning. So go, take a shower, and meet me there, okay?”

He paused.

“I can’t fix this. I can’t. But I can get you back onto the right track, if you let me, so… shoo, clean up, and… I’ll have a very generous glass of bourbon waiting for you when you get there.” He handed over the key. “Oh, don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t sleep. Angels don’t sleep. So relax.”

Alaric needed a minute. No, several of them, really. So Damon gave him a grim smile, and climbed out of the car, heading for the bar to get a head start.

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

They didn't talk on the drive to wherever and Alaric was grateful for that. Damon had kept his word, he was looking after him, giving him a chance to figure out what to do now. They pulled up in front of a motel room and a second later he was holding the keys for it, he even had clothes to change into – to literally leave it all behind.

He listened to Damon, took it all in and realized this wasn't normal, this wasn't what would have happened if he didn't have the angel at his side.

(Funny thought, what if it was true? What if the guy really was what he claimed to be and he was doing all this because it was his job? Because he wanted to look after him? Because someone actually gave a shit about what happened to him now? It was a nice thought, one he'd allow himself to entertain from time to time.)

“Thanks.”

And then Damon was off and Alaric was standing in the room, bag of clothes in one hand, keys in the other, staring blindly at the bathroom door. He could just leave, now, take the car, hot wire it, drive until he ran out of gas.

He wouldn't. There was someone who was waiting for him, even if it was only to help him forget about the hell his life had become.

Ten minutes later he was walking toward the bar, feeling decidedly cleaner after his shower. He spotted Damon right away and true to his words, there was a glass waiting next to him. There was a small smile on Alaric's lips when he sat down next to him, the first smile in a long time.

“Whoever decorated that room must have been colorblind,” he said by way of greeting and it was smalltalk and it felt good, better than he had expected. “Don't suppose you can use your...” he made a vague motion toward Damon, “holy mojo to change it?”

[vampirehunterbynight]

If you go down to the woods tonight

[ricsidiotbestfriend]

For a second, they’re not acting. Damon could get lost in this moment, if not for the fact that every nerve in his body is screaming danger in five languages. Alaric’s lips draw across his and he draws strength from it. He feels so fucking weak and useless but Alaric has always been like this. Breakable. Soft skin that can be torn and rent… and he’s a badass.

         There’s the quiet shush of the grenade pin, the countdown –

And he’s thrown across the clearing, against a tree. And it hurts. Everything hurts so fucking much, he must have broken all of his ribs. They must be pressing into his lungs, because he can’t breathe. He tastes blood.

         He tastes blood.

It’s good. Somehow reminds him of everything that he still has. And no matter what this guy – fuck, he’s pulling Damon up by the jacket, and Damon barely has time to grab and handful of dirt – no matter how old and how strong this guy is there’s now way he’s as smart as Damon.

Though he’s probably in a lot less pain, which must be nice for him.

Damon throws the dirt. It’s hard. His arm is wrenched. But he throws the dirt, and it goes in the vampire’s eyes, in his mouth; and no matter how focused someone is, it’s fucking difficult to ignore dirt in your eyes and mouth. He roars back, dropping Damon, rubbing at his eyes (see? Dumbass. He’s making it worse) and spitting. Enough time, more than enough, for Damon to get a second grenade, lob it at him and throw himself in Alaric’s direction.

There’s a flash, a bang, and a scream of agony. But at least Damon and Alaric have their eyes covered. The vampire is hunched on the ground, too confused and in too much pain to make much sense of anything.

Damon turns, kicks him under the chin so he’s thrown back. And one last step; with the inimitable Alaric’s fantastic stake launcher, he punches up under the ribcage.

He’s dead.

Damon Salvatore, useless human, has killed his first vampire. It seems unreal, too good to be true. He blinks, twice, watching his face blacken, and turns with a half smile. Wants a word or two of praise, promise of a blow job.

“Behind you!” he yells, instead, as a second vampire reaches for Alaric.

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

It happens so fast it's hard to believe that Damon isn't a vampire anymore. It's easier to follow his movements like this, he doesn't appear to be flashing across the place anymore, and still it takes him barely a couple of seconds to get rid of the vampire. The flash grenade goes off, the vampire screams – and then he doesn't and everything goes quiet.

Alaric gets back to his feet – he's shaking and his back is hurting and he's going to walk funny for the rest of the night, but it's over –

Except that it's not. Damon's eyes go wide as they focus on something behind him. Alaric reacts before he's aware that he's moving, he steps to the side and the vampire misses him. But the relief is short-lived when he feels a strong hand clamp around his wrist just a second later, pulling him forward and off his feet to land in front of yet another tree. This time he manages to roll and protect his head, his shoulder takes the brunt of the impact and he knows it's going to hurt like hell once the adrenaline wears off.

If he lives that long.

Damon is running toward them, but the vampire is faster, Alaric blinks and the next thing he knows is being dragged upright by the collar of his jacket and pulled back against an immovable chest. The vampire is smaller than him which puts him at an uncomfortable angle, slightly off balance. Not that he plans to stay that way for long.

Damon is standing in front of them, only a couple of feet away, glaring, expression furious, but Alaric can see the fear in his eyes.

Behind him the vampire takes a breath, probably about to say something, but Alaric doesn't wait, he drops the vervain bomb. The grip on him doesn't weaken, at first, but he somehow manages to move a step forward, and when the coughing starts he twists to the side, dragging the vampire with him. 

Hoping that Damon is fast enough to react.

[ricsidiotbestfriend]

the deathbed || dalaric

[ricsidiotbestfriend]

He’s eaten what, five entire mouthfuls of soup, and Damon’s flagging already. To the point where he doesn’t even want to drink. How pathetic is this?

“Should you be here?” he asks, quite seriously. Damon has a seemingly uninterrupted supply of snot, a head full of cotton wool, and he’s already 80% sure he’s going to prove to be the world’s worst patient. “I mean. It hasn’t really been relevant for a long fucking time but I’m pretty sure this sort of thing is still contagious. I don’t want you to get sick. Pretty sure I’m going to prove to be the world’s worst patient. I can guarantee you I’d be an even worse nurse, though.”

He reaches for a handful of tissues to blow his nose; goddamn, this is disgusting. This is really so far beyond disgusting that it’s gone on to being nauseating. It shouldn’t be possible to be this disgusting.

He eats – drinks? – a little more of the soup, and pushes it aside, lying back.

“I’m useless. Shouldn’t have made you come home. All I can do is sleep,” he says, letting his eyes close, but he reaches for Alaric’s wrist, too. “How long does this last? A day?” He opens one eye hopefully, but not for long; his head is spinning. “A week? Why can’t I remember this stuff? When Stef was little he used to get sick all the time. I should be able to remember.”

He curls in on himself, and rolls towards Alaric.

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

Alaric is still watching, still worried, but Damon is so distracted he doesn't seem to notice.

“Don't forget that I've been doing this human thing for years now and the last time I've had a cold --” which he over-pronounces just to see an eye roll or hear some sort of protest, “ – it's been years, I think I have that covered.”

Of course Damon is right, he could just as easily catch it, but it's too late to worry about it anyway, he's either already sick or he's lucky.

“I'll just make sure we have enough of everything to last us for the next two weeks. Don't worry.”

He takes the soup and puts it aside when Damon is done with it, then settles into the pillows, his attention drawn to the too-warm hand wrapped around his wrist.

“A week, normally, but the worst should be over in a few days. You'll be stuck with a running nose for the most – we need more tissues.” He doesn't get up, eyes on the pale face in front of him. “You'll be fine, Damon.”

Damon is nodding off, he's trying to say something, but it's lost in a mumble. Alaric stays quiet until he's sure Damon is sound asleep, then gets off the bed to take care of the chaos they've created.

He busies himself with preparations for his classes on the next day, but soon finds himself back in bed again, holding a book he forgets to read as he watches Damon. Just a couple of days and he'll be back to normal...

[allroundlostcause]

[saving people drinking things] Spill it! Do you believe you and Damon can ever be lovers? Would you fall for him?

What? What do you mean by lovers? I love him. I’m an angel, it’s what we…

…

…..

I don’t know. I know I want to touch him, kiss him, make him feel good, but it’s so fucking complicated. Why is it so complicated?

[allroundlostcause]

out of time || damon and angelaric

[allroundlostcause]

Feeling Damon relax in his arms; Alaric will never get used to that, never.  He carries so much tension. But here they are, wasting time in a cool lake in… it might be 1992, actually, he really hadn’t been aiming too specifically at the time. And Damon’s head rests on Alaric’s shoulder. It feels so right.

“It gives me a nice break from bein’ wrong all the time.” He speaks into Damon’s hair. Soft, softer than it looks.

Alaric subtly shifts the buoyancy of the water so he can support Damon’s weight without having to paddle too hard. Much better. The temperature is fine because he is warm enough for two. Alaric strums over Damon’s spine with his fingertips. Every vertebra is so fine and sharp and fragile. Strong enough to hold him up, but fragile, concealing the spinal column and so much essential biology. Such a complex system. Nerves, and blood, and bones, and organs, and no one part can predict the whole; inimitable Damon, Alaric’s Damon.

He meets Damon’s eyes as their foreheads touch, Hands skimming over his sides until Alaric can coax Damon’s legs around him. They fit so neatly. It makes him wonder if all bodies do, or if they were made to be together. Could Damon have loved this vessel? Would he have warmed like this, to the original inhabitant?

Alaric leans in for a kiss. Keeping it simple. He just needs to reconnect, remind himself of what they have, simple and complicated as it is. He nudges Damon’s mouth open, wanting to taste again, feel the wet heat of his tongue.

Kissing is so intimate. All of it is. Being human and fragile and baring yourself to another person is so intimate. Alaric is falling in love with humanity in unexpected ways and beyond just the man in his arms, letting himself be dragged out of time for the purposes of rest and recovery.

Damon couldn’t last a year without Stefan and they both know it, but it doesn’t seem to be particularly useful to mention it, right now. “We’ll take as much time as you need,” Alaric promises. “And like I promised. We’ll step right back in again. But you’ll be stronger. Healthier. Sharper. You’ll be better.”

And they’d be closer, too, know each other better. Whether it’s a few days, or weeks, he’ll learn Damon better, recognize his moods, learn to read his expressions, since it’s ‘rude’ to read his mind. He’ll learn Damon’s skin, every inch.

Desire flushes his body, and his body responds alarmingly quickly.

He gets it. Understands it. But it’s still strange. Alaric blushes. “’m sorry,” he says, trying not to laugh at himself; but what sort of a system is this? It’s not the time. This must be what its like to be a teenager. He’s acutely aware of Damon’s legs wrapped around his waist, and it seems to make the… situation worse.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, but makes no move to get away. “That’s really embarrassing. It’ll go away. Right? I saw a thing. On TV. Think unsexy thoughts, right?”

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

It's so quiet around them. The water is cool, but Alaric is warm. He hardly moves and it feels like they are floating. Damon doesn't ask if he's doing an angel thing to keep their heads above the water, he simply enjoys it. Relaxes. Gets used to the idea that this is what he needs and that it's okay to accept what his angel is offering.

His angel. It's a new thought, one that has him frown. He really is, Alaric's been there for him whenever he'd needed him, always focused on making it easier for him. And most of the time he's pushed him away.

“You're not wrong,” he says into Alaric's skin, softly, but he knows he'll hear him. “I'm stubborn, there's a difference.”

His eyes flutter close as he follows the path of Alaric's fingers across his skin.

“I've never allowed myself to admit that I... might need help. It makes you weak and I can't afford that.”

They both know Alaric knows this, he isn't telling him anything new, but it's a huge step to admit it, to say it out loud. And it does make him feel better, especially when he looks up to find Alaric watching him calmly. There's no judgment in his eyes (not that he's expected there to be) instead he looks relieved.

What would Stefan think about all this if he knew? Would he tell him once they went back? Maybe his brother deserves a rest like this as well, maybe he's being unfair for excluding him from this when the last year wasn't easy for him, but none of this would be possible with Stefan around. It's not that he wants to keep what he and Alaric have a secret (not that he could, Stefan had probably figured it out way before Damon even realized Alaric had become a part of them) but this is something they need to figure out for themselves.

And Damon feels selfish, he doesn't want to share this, doesn't want to wonder what Stefan would see if he suddenly showed up anywhere around them.

No, as much as he cares about his brother, he can't be a part of this.

Alaric's lips find his and it seems like he's trying to distract him and it works, Damon curls his arms around Alaric's shoulders to hold him close. He doesn't want the kiss to end, it's familiar and new at the same time, it calms him down – and he grins when he feels Alaric harden against his thigh. He doesn't comment on it, at first, focuses instead on leaning into him again, fingertips brushing over wet skin absentmindedly as he listens to their quiet breathing. Or not so quiet in Alaric's case.

“Why do you want it to go away?” He's genuinely curious, how does an angel react to something as basic as physical contact? “Does it feel strange to you?”

He doubts it. Damon pulls back and looks into the angel's eyes. “Do you want to stop this?”

[a-night-in-wonderland]

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

Surprise trip   |   Dalaric

[allroundlostcause]

Alaric was feeling off balance and had for a day or two; it felt strange, telling people what had happened. Telling people he and Damon were getting married, watching the familiar passage of expressions; disbelief, a moment of weird judginess (… fuck, that was such a Damon word. He was speaking Damon speak now. Where would that end?), and then a fake sort of congratulations, because they really didn’t understand.

In another hundred years some of those same faces would probably still have trouble believing it, and Alaric still wouldn’t care. Others would get on board sooner or later; Alaric was pretty sure Caroline already thought it was pretty cool, but she’d mentioned before that anything who could contribute to Damon being nice could only be a good thing.

Anyway, whatever. He had headed out for essential supplies (bourbon, mostly, picking up a couple of cases from a liquor outlet that asked no questions a town over; it was just more efficient), and was heading back, genuinely looking forward to locking the door and just immersing himself in Damon for a couple of days. Years. Decades.

Which was why he should have expected Damon to have other ideas. He’d barely put the cases by the door when Damon was manhandling him, with a very hungry look on his face, eyes glittering with mischief. Kissing him roughly. Enough so Alaric had no interest in going anywhere but the bedroom.

“Where are we going?” he asked, an incredulous grin hooking up one side of his face. “Damon – did you pack clothes?” He was already being manhandled out the door, and he sort of loved it. “Seriously, did you pack clothes?” And into the front seat. “You know when you kiss me like that I don’t want to do anything but drag you upstairs, right? This isn’t exactly fair.”

He laughed, turning the key in the ignition.

Damon and his ridiculous ideas.

“There had better be clothes in the trunk,” he said, adjusting the mirror and the seat (he loved driving Damon’s car, but wow was Damon a midget). He turned the key, and started backing out.

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

Oh, but Alaric was so slow, he had to drag him, push him, make sure he got into the car. And even then he didn't start it fast enough which had him tap his foot impatiently.

“At the rate you're going – or not going – you'll never find out.”

But the smile, the one Ric couldn't hide, the one that almost magically appeared on his face whenever their eyes met, whenever they so much as looked at each other, that smile made up for everything. Well, almost everything.

“We don't need clothes,” he singsonged, reaching out to squeeze Alaric's thigh. Letting his hand linger for a moment, distracting, teasing, a promise.

“I'm not fair, never been. You should know that by now. But --” another squeeze, this one higher on the thigh, “I was bored and I knew you would be bored if I was bored so here we are. Going places. Doing stuff. Let the kids be all judgy while we're having fun.”

He might have sounded somewhat bitter for a moment and Ric would pick up on it, but all thought about that was brushed aside immediately.

“Just drive. Wherever you want to go. Didn't book anything, I'm not even sure I took money with me. I don't care, we'll just ask nicely for a room. We don't need food because I'm not planning to leave said room because there will be sex. Lots of sex. Loud sex, hot sex.”

He's grinning that grin now, the one Alaric usually has trouble figuring out, should make him nervous in all the right ways because it could mean anything, from ‘hey, I’m happy to see you’ to ‘you’re about to get the blowjob of your life while you’re driving’.

“Maybe I took some money with me, stop with the frowning. You're not allowed to complain, not one word. My trip, my rules and there's only one: No rules. And no clothes.”

[eddysonline]

[ricsidiotbestfriend]

It was understandable, but annoying. This attitude. Damon managed to avoid an eyeroll. “Break the rules in here and they can hold you longer. So how about we don’t send you back to your cell smelling like a distillery?” The man had bourbon eyes. Damon could always tell.

He stood up, and gathered the papers. “You’re welcome. Tomorrow afternoon, I think. But they won’t tell you anything. They’ll just process you and then come and tell you you’re free to go, don’t leave town, etc. Boring. I’ll be waiting. I’ll bring you a change of clothes,” he added, since Alaric would be given back the blood streaked civvies he’d been brought in with, and frankly orange didn’t suit him at all.

He waggled his fingers ‘goodbye’ as he left.

–

He’d been close to right. Five o’clock the following afternoon he was sitting in the waiting area in the front section of the county jail waiting. There was a pile of TIME magazines on the little table. Some bright soul had apparently spent a number of hours drawing cock and balls on every single forehead, with the exception of some democratic politician from the sticks. Mystery. Had he missed it or was this the one man in all the world who the artist felt was worthy of getting through life without genitalia on his face?

He was effectively distracted from the thought when Alaric was escorted out past the metal detectors and handed his possessions; wallet (undoubtedly now relieved of any excess cash), watch, phone with a flat battery, keys.

Damn, he looked good. Damon stood up and gave him an appreciative look. Too soon?

“Shall we? You look like you could use a change of clothes and a protracted drinking session.”

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

So he finally got some time to think. Still in jail, still not allowed to leave when he wanted to – but with a feeling of might-get-out-of-here-eventually that was both calming and making him nervous at the same time.

Nervous, because he didn't want to go back. Didn't want to go back to their apartment, didn't want to face this new reality. The one where the woman he'd loved – the woman he still loved – had left him to become – to change. The place would be empty, everything would remind him of what he had lost.

Or maybe she would be waiting for him. What was he supposed to do if he saw her again? Confront her? Avoid her? Was she a threat to him now? Would she try to kill him?

Alaric didn't sleep well that night, mind buzzing with questions he didn't want to have the answers for. When he was told he would be released later, just like Damon had told him it would happen, he spent the rest of the time pacing in his cell, wondering. Would Damon keep his word? Would he be there?

Did he want him to be there?

It turned out that the answer to all his questions was simple: Yes, he did.

He was quiet when he was given back his things, signing everything they put before him without so much as looking up, anything to finally get out.

“I don't want to remember anything about this tonight,” he said after he had collected his things. “I don't care where we go, I just want out.”

[ricsidiotbestfriend]

the deathbed || dalaric

[ricsidiotbestfriend]

“You know being all super sweet to me just makes me needy and pathetic and slightly enraged, right?” Damon deadpans, watching Alaric fuss in the kitchen. No one’s done things for him since his mother and it’s strange and comforting at the same time. “What’s the secret?” But Alaric is being a pain in the ass, apparently. He doesn’t leap up to confess what he has in mind. Just keeps wandering around the kitchen. This is only not annoying because Damon’s head hurts and he likes being looked after more than he thought he would.

He sits up, adjusting his hoodie as he reaches for the box. Fine, no overdosing on pseudoephedrine. He reads the instructions, checks the time. Two now, two about six tonight… they’d better be good. They’d better be so effective he’s winning tennis tournaments and going horse riding by tomorrow. They’d better be so good he wakes up demanding sex.

They might not be that good. Still, he squeezes two from their little plastic bubbles and swallows them with half the water.

“I need bourbon too,” he says, eyeing the orange juice. “I think if I drink enough to pass out I’ll sleep through the worst of it. Correct?” He leans over to sniff suspiciously at the soup. Smells alright. Looks alright. Not as good as he’d have made himself.

He blows his nose again, and sits up properly against the head of the bed, pulling the sleeves over his hands so he can lift the bowl and eat a little. No, it’s not bad. He raises his eyebrows appreciatively.

“So what’s the secret? Please say witchy juju.”

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

He smiles because needy and pathetic Damon seems to be his favorite right now. Not that he's going to tell him, the pouting  that would ensue would most likely go on for days, there might even be casualties. No, he'll just watch him, make sure he's taken care of and then mock him later.

“If I told you it wouldn't be a secret, right?”

He gets comfortable on the bed next to Damon, not too close so he can move freely to eat. Watching him. Ever since Damon has turned human Alaric has noted differences to how he had looked as a vampire, but, right now, they are so much more apparent. His breathing stands out to him, even more so now when he can hear him wheeze in one breath after another.

Alaric is still a little shaken (and feeling faintly embarrassed about it because it's a fucking cold and not a life-threatening injury and he's run home as if Damon was about to breathe his last breath) and he curls an arm around Damon's waist, watching him eat.

“Bourbon after the soup,” he agrees – and can't help but stare. Damon with his sleeves pulled over his hands – he looks so young and vulnerable –  human – it takes his breath away.

This is real, he's changed.

He clears his throat and suddenly he wishes the answer would be 'witch juju' because he wants him whole, healthy.

“Try to get some sleep when you're done.”

[theburnthatkeepseverything]

We spoke all night in tongues, in fingertips, in teeth.

Robert Hass, Spring (via fralites)

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

URL CHANGE

WTH, every single line of the stupid song has been taken as a TUMBLR URL. >.<

Anyway, I changed the URL bc this is going to be a two-muse account from now on. DALARIC all the way! <3 I’m putting my Ric on here as well to help me track my threads with allroundlostcause and ricsidiotbestfriend and make it easier to remember stuff.

I won’t delete Ric’s blog and I’ll be keeping both their URLS (donthaveagoodside / vampirehunterbynight) and use them on the threads. I’m also still tracking both URLS.

I need a new icon.

Oh, shut up.

[allroundlostcause]

out of time || damon and angelaric

[allroundlostcause]

Alaric sincerely wishes he had something other than boxer’s shorts to swim in. They’re a strange garment, but sort of necessary; still he’s not sure he wants to swim in them. Should have had a better rummage through the wardrobes back at the cabin, perhaps.

He’s fairly sure he shouldn’t swim naked, although he likes the thought of it. Like a sea creature. A dolphin, he likes those, they sort of fly themselves. And they’re social they form bonds.

Some distant memory is stirred up. Like some ancient memory belonging to the vessel, maybe; he is suddenly torn between taking a running leap on the pier, turning himself into a ball, and making the biggest splash he can, or diving gracefully. In the end, he chooses that. There’s not a lot of room but he’s as graceful as he can manage. The water is warm enough; not warm, but warm enough for Damon, he thinks, and hopes. He makes a few tentative strokes. Apparently he can swim alright.

“This angel won’t drown,” he promises.

Damon’s hair is lit up by the sun. He looks like he’s wearing the halo of an angel in some strange religious illustration. And he’s beautiful, and Alaric wants to hold him here in the water with their bodies all slippery.

He treads water, and grins, squinting against the sun.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s not cold. It’s perfect. How long since you’ve had a chance for this?”

He dives under the water, admiring the way the sun penetrates the gloom. Here and there, fish, silver, dart from rock to rock, hiding. One of them will go on the little barbecue on the back deck if Alaric has to go down there and catch it in his teeth. He breaches the water with a grin on his face, and flips onto his back, exhilarated, floating there a moment. Being human is such a gift. These moments… he’s so grateful he can share some with Damon, grateful to Gabe for the sort-of suggestion, grateful Damon caved.

“Come here,” he says, impulsively, pushing through the water towards Damon, slipping arms around him and pulling him close. Different, like this, without clothing between them. Skin against skin.

They haven’t kissed since… alright, so it’s only been a couple of days but Damon was traumatized, drunk, and not in his right mind. It’s alright. Alaric can wait. Still treading water with his feet he presses his cheek to Damon’s.

“Thank you,” he says. “Probably gettin’ sick of hearin’ that but I’m glad you came.”

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

He watches the angel dive into the water and maybe he waits for him to cry out for help. It's a ridiculous thought, of course he would know how to swim and even if he doesn't, there's now way someone who can take you to a different time would just drown like a stone. The vessel, maybe, if Alaric is forced to leave it, but never the angel himself.

It looks okay how he moves through the water, graceful even. Something he likes to watch for a moment, admire the way his arms move in and out of the water, like he has been doing this all his life. He waits another moment to make sure Alaric will be alright, then starts walking toward the water. It's a good question, actually, he's never really had time to do anything for himself, much less for a break. Or something as trivial and unimportant as swimming in a lake.

“Years,” he says, tempted to stick his toe into the water to test the temperature, but with Ric watching him from the middle of the lake it seems too much of a cowardly move. He jumps in, instead, less graceful than the angel before him, water splashing everywhere. It's cold, but the right kind of cold, the cold that wakes you up and doesn't make your teeth chatter so hard you can't talk anymore. He swims for a bit, enjoying the way even that little movement pulls on muscles he hasn't used in far too long.

Alaric's skin is warm, a nice contrast, stubble scraping against his cheek. He lets himself be held because it's nice, because his body is drawn toward him automatically. They are close enough for him to rest his head against Alaric's shoulder.

“You like me saying you were right, don't you?”

He's never had this before, someone this close, so focused on him, holding him like that, he feels safe. And the little sarcastic voice at the back of his mind that usually makes him do or say something that would ruin the mood is deceptively quiet.

“I should have done this sooner,” he says into Alaric's skin and it's so easy to admit it now. “I was losing my mind, couldn't think straight anymore. I'm not ready to go hunting again, I'm not strong enough. I need this break and I don't care if we stay for a week or a year.”

For the first time there's no shame, he doesn't feel like a failure for admitting it.

Damon pulls his head back to look at him, about to open his mouth to say more, maybe even ask him to keep him hidden in this time for the next three hundred years, but no words come out. They've been this close before, he remembers it very clearly all of a sudden. They'd looked at each other like this and Alaric had kissed him. The memory makes him smile and he leans closer, pressing his forehead against Alaric's.

“I'm glad I came, too.”

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

Surprise trip   |   Dalaric

allroundlostcause

Car - check.

Gas - check.

Clothes - who needed clothes?

Cell phone - left on the counter. Check. No interruptions.

Keys... Keys. He was missing his keys. They had to be somewhere. In the kitchen, maybe, because that's where he had been standing when the idea had come up.

Road trip. The two of them. No Mystic Falls, no prying eyes, no worried calls. No questions of 'how are you feeling, Ric?' when what they really wanted to ask was 'do you regret it already?'

None of this.

Oh, they had been supportive. After the first shock, of course. As supportive as people around them ever were which basically meant that, as long as it didn't concern them, no one really cared.

Stefan cared, obviously, but he was the one no one wanted to listen to. Because if he showed his face anywhere close to them, close to Ric - it wouldn't end well. Not for his brother, anyway. He was still angry, still hurt.

Whatever.

Not important, not when he had a road trip to plan and a fiance to wait for. He didn't even remember where Ric had gone, probably to get something for dinner. Or...

Not important.

He was tempted to text him, to send him a message that would make him come home within a heartbeat because this - this was important. They'd talked about it, sometimes, joked about it. Get away for a weekend. Just drive until they'd used up all the gas and stay wherever the car would stop.

Today they would do it. As soon as Alaric showed his handsome face he'd drag him to the car and drive.

Solid plan, guaranteed to surprise him and end in a lot of quality time. Damon and Ric time.

And there it was, the sound of keys, a door opening.

And, just like that, Damon was standing in front of Alaric, pulling him close to attack his lips.

"Come on," he said between kisses, dragging him back out of the house. "Everything's prepared. You're driving."

[allroundlostcause]

Make me real again || Dalaric

[allroundlostcause]

If it seemed a short while ago like Damon was battling to find his way back, he’s stopped, now, settling back into Alaric’s embrace, heavy as a stone. Looks like he’s doing some thinking, which seems like a pity. He should be able to just float in this state. If something is invading his calm, it must be something important.

When he’s out, when they’re done, Alaric hopes Damon will tell him. If he doesn’t, it matters more that he’s worked it out for himself. Alaric tilts his head. Damon looks so young, like this.

“Thank you,” Alaric says, and he pulls the blanket up a little higher, and dims the bedside lamp a little. Not going anywhere but they can doze. He won’t sleep, not with Damon like this.

For the next couple of hours he does that. Seems to fall into a watchful sleep for a while and then wake to find his fingers are still moving gently over Damon’s back and shoulders. When, blinking, he sees that the sun has begun to rise, he turns off the lamp; the natural light is softer and prettier. It’s a grey day, it’ll be raining before most people are heading to work, and by the color of the clouds it’ll be pouring all day. But not on them. They’ll stay where they are for as long as they want to, probably fuck lazily when Damon is himself again, crawling over Alaric’s body the way he does. Spike their morning coffees with bourbon and read the paper until noon.

Alaric loves his life.

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

[complete thread]

[allroundlostcause]

out of time || damon and angelaric

[allroundlostcause]

Alaric slumps slightly. The vessel.

“No,” he says. “He’s not here. He died. I… I was on my way down here, and I wasn’t in any great hurry to find a vessel – it feels like assault. Taking someone away from their lives, even if they’ve asked for it. But this man… he was running out in front of an SUV, trying to push his son out of the way in time – no, not his son. His girlfriend’s nephew, but that was the way he thought of him. He was thinking, as the truck hit him, only two things – that he hoped his death would have meaning, and that he hoped the boy would be alright. So I healed the boy, but it was too late for the man. I took him while he was in the morgue. I wish I could have been there in time to save both of them, but I knew what he wanted. No, what ne needed. So he’s in heaven, where he belongs. And I don’t have to force someone through the indignity of having their body dragged around against their will. It’s better. Still sad though, he added, because it was; so many evil people lived long lives, while such a good one was caught so short.

“And y’know, maybe god sends angels to people who are supposed to fly.” He raises his eyebrows, and takes another bite, watching Damon’s face relax again. He always responds to touch like that and once again it makes Alaric want to know how far he might be able to push it, what he would look like when his body was stretched to breaking point in the pursuit of pleasure.

He shifts awkwardly in his seat.

“It’ll be good.” For the first time he’s wondering whether he needs this break as well. The last few months have been exhausting – not physically, but the drain on his grace is undeniable. And the emotions down here… he’s not sure whether it’s the constant proximity to Damon, who stirs so much in him, or whether it’s the vessel, but it gets hard, after a while. Only time he seems to feel like himself is late at night with Damon in his arms, and there’s a few hours before he can get away with that.

Unless he fast forwards through the day? Nah.

“Do you swim?” he asks. “I’ve never… it’s safe to swim out there,” and okay it’s a little self-serving because the thought of Damon slick with the water is appealing. Alaric gathers up the dishes. He’ll deal with them later. “It might be fun. If my vessel knew how, I should manage alright. I mean, if you want to.”

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

It's a concept that he's not sure he understands. Or is meant to. Apparently not every person can become a vessel, there has to be something special in your family for it to be possible. And you're asked, not forced like it's the case with demonic possession. So there is a difference, right? Angels are the good guys, even if their methods are unusual. 

"Sounds like a tragedy," he says and he looks at Alaric for a long moment. He can't help himself, to him he is still the angel he got to know, he doesn't see a vessel, doesn't see a stranger who lost his life. "So from what you are saying is that he would have wanted this and that he's happy. Up there, in heaven with all the other angels. When did it happen?"

Alaric's next words have him shake his head, again.

"Even if he does, this human won't fly. Ever." He wonders briefly why Alaric keeps talking about it, it feels like this is important to him, like he's on some sort of mission to make him like it, Damon is almost sure it's a personal thing.

"I can't remember the last time I swam. For fun. Been tossed into a couple of lakes on a hunt, but it's not the same."

He hasn't had this, any of this, in such a long time it seems almost surreal to be thinking about it. Free time. A break. Time for himself. But it sounds like a good idea, going for a swim in a lake. 

He gets up from the table, stretches. He's tired, could sleep for a week, but there's also the caffeine that's keeping him awake. Maybe it's enough for a swim, Alaric seems very interested in doing something. He can't really blame him, poor guy is sitting around whenever Damon takes a nap and even with what little sleep he's been getting lately, it still means the angel can't do anything but wait for him.

"Please tell me angels can't drown."

It's a joke - and it feels good, maybe he's already adapting, already calming down. Relaxing.

--

About ten minutes later they are standing at the lake (they've walked here, he'd insisted) and Damon is watching the water. It's quiet, peaceful, still sunny. The perfect day, perfect setting for this. He's even remembered to bring some shorts to swim in.

"You sure you want to do this? You go first, by the way, in case I have to save you."

[allroundlostcause]

Make me real again || Dalaric

[allroundlostcause]

Alaric doesn’t sleep, but he does find himself dozing from time to time. He doesn’t move except to brush his hand over Damon’s flesh (he feels so warm, now, and Alaric hadn’t realized how much that would mean to him; not that Damon was ever cold, not that Alaric minded, but it matters to him that they are the same, now. It stops him being forced to wonder about their future and begin to anticipate it, instead).

He can never guess how long it will take Damon to come up out of subspace. Usually a while. Maybe a couple of hours, sometimes longer. Sometimes they both wake up groggy. But tonight feels different; Damon seems to be trying to pull himself out, instead of waiting for Alaric to draw him out.

His arm over Alaric’s waist feels possessive. Alaric likes it. He tangles his fingers with Damon’s, the other hand brushing over his neck. Damon is still thoroughly out of it but his eyes are open, and Alaric feels a puff of air against his chest.

“You were incredible,” he says, though he’s not sure whether Damon can even really hear him, yet, if Damon is even ready to. Maybe he just needs to say it. “Do you need anything? Water? Blood? Something to get your strength up.”

He seems to have trouble vamping out in this state but Alaric will happily offer up his own torn wrist. It’s part of the privilege.

[xalmostxloverx-blog]

It feels like it takes him hours to reply to Alaric's words. And even then it's barely more than a grunt, a squeeze of his fingers and he shifts. Moves his head so he can look at him, watch his eyes, his smile. Alaric loves this, all this, maybe as much as Damon loves it. He always makes sure Damon is safe, has all the time in the world to drag himself back. Never pressures him or wants more of him than he is able to give.

Love, respect. Trust. It's all there. And it's his. Alaric is his, Alaric wants him, as he is.

Stefan doesn't have this, will never have this.

His brother's name causes him to tense, slightly, brings back just a bit of the anger that has troubled him so much earlier. He should have no place in their bedroom, he should not think about him, not right now –

But he's there and as much as his mind is trying to ignore him, it doesn't work. It feels like he's tainting the atmosphere just by thinking about him and he closes his eyes for a moment. Takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Thank you.”

His voice is barely there, but Ric will hear it, would have heard it even if he was still human. Because, right now, Damon is all that matters to him and, right now, it's all Damon wants to think about.