A Damon/Alaric friendship fic. Because damn it, they're awesome and they need to be BFFs. Enjoy!
Damon and Alaric are not friends. Not even close. Damon turned the guy's wife into a vampire and tried to kill the teacher and Alaric tried to kill him and then they rescued Stefan together and the whole mess was not the healthiest definition of friendship.
Besides, Damon doesn't have friends. He has . . .minions. And accomplices. Not friends. Mainly, because calling something a friendship would imply caring about the other person and he does not care about Alaric. No way.
He doesn't find the teacher amusing in any way shape or form; he doesn't think having a frien- ally, ally, that's what he meant- who can kill stuff is super awesome and he doesn't think Alaric drunk is one of the most depressing things ever.
"Hello, Damon." Alaric's voice is smooth; he has a glass in his hand and he's looking at Damon like he's suprised to see him.
So why is he here at Alaric's place?
"Alaric." Damon stops at the door and smiles. "Can I come in?"
"I think we already did this part." Alaric abandons the doorway and drops back down onto the couch; Damon follows, closing the door behind him. "So what is it now? Are there more vampires in town? More leads on Isobel?"
"Nope." Damon flops down onto an open chair and Alaric pauses, the glass-bourbon if Damon's nose is right-halfway to his lips.
"So why are you here?" He doesn't sound irritated, just confused.
"What, we can't hang out when we're not killing things?" Damon smiles and reaches for the bottle.
"Damon, if you're playing some sort of game-" The warning note in Alaric's voice would be scary to anyone that wasn't Damon.
"Relax. Stefan and Elena are monopolizing the house and the bartender thinks that I'm trying to kill myself with alcohol so. . ." Damon trails off as he pours himself a glass.
"So you thought you would just bother me for a few hours?" Alaric sighs and leans back.
"More like the day." Damon gives the teacher his most charming smile and the man quickly gulps down the rest of his drink.
"Why do I have a feeling this isn't going to end well?"
Damon is bored out of his mind. There's nothing on TV and Alaric is sitting there grading papers (the vampire makes a mental note to tell the school board that Alaric's drunk when he grades, but then he mentally scratches it out).
Alaric's in the middle of the 40th essay when he feels a spitball hit his cheek. For a moment, he doesn't move, just trying to reel himself in or he'll end up choking Damon and the vampire will think it's hilarious.
"Is there something you need, Damon?" Alaric thought company, even Damon's, would be nice, but he's regretting his decision not to throw Damon out.
"Entertainment. You're a terrible host." Damon finishes his glass and that's the last of his bourbon. What an asshole.
"I'm sure there are other places that you'll find more interesting." The teacher looks back down to finish reading what might be the worst written paper on the planet when the second spitball hits his forehead.
"Great! Let's go!" Damon stands and heads towards the door, a spring in his step, but he stops when he notices Alaric hasn't moved an inch save for his jaw dropping. "Are we going or not?"
"Are you drunk?" That's the only explanation.
"Vampires can't get drunk." Damon just gives him this 'duh' look.
"Then why did you drink all my bourbon?" Counting to ten works. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7-
"To save you from yourself." That's it.
Alaric tosses his papers aside and pounces on Damon, sending them both spiralling to the floor. Damon grunts and hits the floor with a thud and promptly rolls them over; there's another noise, but they both ignore it as they start screaming at each other.
"That was a $150 bottle, you dick!" They're still rolling, knocking into furniture and sending the empty bourbon bottle to the floor.
"You were robbed; it wasn't even that good!" Alaric's going to kill him.
"Oh my god!" They stop and look up towards the door; Stefan and Elena are just standing there, looking shocked. "What's going on?"
Damon and Alaric jump to their feet. "He drank my best bottle of bourbon!"
"He-" Damon pauses. "He's boring!"
"Damon, why are you even here?" Stefan's trying to keep a straight face, but it's not really working; his eyebrow and upper lip are twitching.
"You two took over the house and the bartender wouldn't let me in!" Alaric's abandoned the conversation, too busy looking around the living room, which was been destroyed. "I don't even know why he's mad! It's just some bourbon!"
"That was for my anniversary!" The apartment goes silent. "Isobel and I were going to celebrate and I bought the stupid bottle and-" Alaric sinks back onto the couch, looking defeated.
Stefan and Elena pull Damon out and leave Alaric alone in the cluttered mess of his home.
Damon doesn't feel guilty. It was just a stupid bottle. It was just a stupid bottle owned by some stupid man who isn't his friend. Damon growls in frustration. This entire situation is ridiculous and the only way he's ever going to get some control over himself is to finish his plan and get this over with.
"Where are you going?" Elena passes him as he's heading out the door, but he doesn't answer, just waves, and she watches him go with a confused look on her face.
It's been four days. Damon's had to look and search, but he found what he was looking for. But not because he feels guilty. It's just because Damon knows Alaric won't let him in without it.
When Alaric answers this time, there's no glass. His clothes are messy and wrinkled and it looks as though he hasn't gotten any sleep.
"Can I come in?" Damon holds out the bottle of bourbon, making sure there's no apologetic look on his face. Because he doesn't feel guilty.
Alaric looks between Damon's face and the bottle and snorts, opening the door to let Damon in.
"You didn't need to bring that." They settle into their usual spots, Alaric on the couch and Damon in the chair with the bottle on the table. Alaric takes a deep breath. "It was just a stupid bottle."
"This isn't an apology. This is just a stupid bottle, too." The vampire smirks and puts his feet up. The teacher scowls and pushes the feet off the coffee table. "It's more of a peace offering than anything else."
Alaric nods, holding back a smile. Damon frowns.
Fuck.
Maybe they are friends.
I may continue this. I may not. But if I do, would you prefer me to keep it friendship or should I make it slash?