"I can't leave you alone for one minute, can I?" Alaric said scoldingly. "Just one minute. It would literally kill you to do what I tell you, wouldn't it?"

Damon winced as Alaric gripped the stake in Damon's stomach and tugged. It resisted for a moment and then slid out with a loud slurp. Alaric tossed it aside with a grimace and then glared at Damon before turning towards his duffelbag full of weapons.

Damon groaned as he pressed his fingers to the wound, which was rapidly healing now that the stake was out.

"I though you said these guys were your friends," he said, giving Alaric an accusing look.

"They are my friends." Alaric pulled a blood bag out of the bag, cut off the end of the tube with his pocket knife and pressed it into Damon's hand with well-practiced efficiency. "That's why you're still alive."

Damon harrumphed softly as he took the bag and raised it to his lips.

"Great friends you have."

Alaric gave Damon a pointed look.

"So I've noticed," he said. He gazed at Damon for a moment and then got to his feet, washing the blood off his hands before grabbing a bunch of paper towels and wetting them.

"Here." Alaric crouched down again and handed the paper towels to Damon. "I don't know why you won't listen to me. I told you I would handle this. How can I protect you if-" He broke off and looked away. It was hard to tell in the fluorescent lighting of the men's room, but Damon thought Alaric might be blushing.

"You protect me?" Damon snorted. "Yeah, right. I'm the one with superpowers here, remember?" He finished wiping off the blood and reached over to toss the paper towels in the trash can.

"Then why am I always the one who's saving your ass?" Alaric scowled as he took away the empty blood bag, wrapping it and the bloody stake in fresh paper towels before shoving them into his duffelbag. "Who died and made me into your bodyguard?"

Alaric's eyes widened as he realized what he'd said and he flashed Damon a stricken look, sobering Damon immediately. He relented as he remembered that this meeting was all about finding his little brother. Stefan was worth spending an evening schmoozing with Alaric's asshole hunter friends (but, man, was he going to owe Damon for this once they got him back. Stefan and Alaric both).

"Okay," Damon pushed himself to his feet and pulled his leather jacket closed to hide the blood stain on his shirt. "You win, Mr. Bodyguard. I'll go make nice with Shawn and Don."

"Sam and Dean," Alaric said absently as he gave Damon a once-over, his hands twitching like he wanted straighten Damon's collar or something, but he kept them to himself. "Just... try not to be a dick."

Damon paused in the doorway, turning back to look at Alaric like he was insane. "Since when am I a dick?"

"That's a rhetorical question, right?"

Despite his words, Alaric grinned and Damon knew his friend had his back, no matter what.