TVD Drabble 6
Summary: Alaric’s had a few close calls lately that have unnerved him. Turns out, they disturb Damon even more.
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Drabble 6
Neither looked at each other, content to drink side by side. They weren’t really the, ‘look deep into each other’s eyes’, kind of couple anyway. Not their style. So silence passed as easily between them as annoyance and liquor and blood.
Typically, it was Damon who spoke first.
Typically, Alaric didn’t like what he had to say.
“…You know I’ll turn you to save you, right?”
“You know I’ll kill you if you turn me, right?”
Damon’s smug expression reflects in the mirror on the other side of the bar.
“I’ve thought about it. I can live with that. It’s actually kind of a tradition.” Damon shrugged. “I didn’t wanna be here like this either, but dear little brother just couldn’t let me go. And here we are aaall these decades later with such a healthy, fulfilling relationship.”
Alaric hears what Damon doesn’t say, of course he does. If he didn’t, they wouldn’t even be together. Most of the words that passed between them were hard-edged and sniping, but feelings trailed after the syllables, more there than what was actually said. So Alaric knew what Damon was saying, like every chick in a tragic romance ever, but there was still the ever present irritation that Damon evoked in all those he so much as passed in the streets.
Damon sets down his empty glass and stands, about to walk away when Alaric calls after him, not done with the argument.
“Damon-“
“Hate,” Damon speaks without turning around, some almost foreign emotion in his voice. Some bittersweet reminiscence in the tone, things he had learned and had never wanted to. “fades, Ric…Love sticks around.”
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Drabble 6
Neither looked at each other, content to drink side by side. They weren’t really the, ‘look deep into each other’s eyes’, kind of couple anyway. Not their style. So silence passed as easily between them as annoyance and liquor and blood.
Typically, it was Damon who spoke first.
Typically, Alaric didn’t like what he had to say.
“…You know I’ll turn you to save you, right?”
“You know I’ll kill you if you turn me, right?”
Damon’s smug expression reflects in the mirror on the other side of the bar.
“I’ve thought about it. I can live with that. It’s actually kind of a tradition.” Damon shrugged. “I didn’t wanna be here like this either, but dear little brother just couldn’t let me go. And here we are aaall these decades later with such a healthy, fulfilling relationship.”
Alaric hears what Damon doesn’t say, of course he does. If he didn’t, they wouldn’t even be together. Most of the words that passed between them were hard-edged and sniping, but feelings trailed after the syllables, more there than what was actually said. So Alaric knew what Damon was saying, like every chick in a tragic romance ever, but there was still the ever present irritation that Damon evoked in all those he so much as passed in the streets.
Damon sets down his empty glass and stands, about to walk away when Alaric calls after him, not done with the argument.
“Damon-“
“Hate,” Damon speaks without turning around, some almost foreign emotion in his voice. Some bittersweet reminiscence in the tone, things he had learned and had never wanted to. “fades, Ric…Love sticks around.”