fic, vampire diaries: things fall apart (damon/alaric), r, 1386 words
Title: things fall apart
Pairing: Damon/Alaric
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1386
Spoilers: Implies that it's set after the beginning of S2.
Summary: where the world as we know it has ended and both Damon and Alaric try to deal with it. It doesn't necessarily go well most of the time.
Warnings: previous mentioned character death(s), blood drinking, angst overload.
Disclaimer: nothing is mine, very sadly for me.
A/N: for fullonswayzeed for the five acts exchange; it got too long and so I'm posting it in one chunk. Prompts were apocalyptic/post apocalyptic settings and cigarettes. I hope it works for you. ♥ The fever-triggered-Apocalypse device is totally stolen from Stephen King, by the way. Also using for my au_bingo square future: post-apocalypse and my hc_bingo square blood loss.
“Never pegged you for a smoker,” Damon says as Alaric brings the cigarette between his lips and takes a drag.
“It’s more advisable than drinking,” Alaric snaps back. Hell, it’s the end of the world, he doesn’t want to die drunk, not to mention that stealing cigarettes is way easier than bringing with you bottles of whatever poison you decided to go for. A packet of cigarettes will take almost no space in your coat or in your duffel, but a bottle of vodka will.
“Then again, I did peg you for the practical type.”
Then Damon steals his cigarette and takes a couple of drags before handing it over. Alaric sighs and doesn’t object.
He hadn’t really thought that something like this would happen during his lifetime, and he surely hadn’t imagined he’d end up with Damon of all people, but he has learned to work with what he has.
(This meaning that everyone in Mystic Falls is dead because of a fever. Which obviously wasn’t just a fever, since from what Alaric gathered from the last news he watched before there weren’t news anymore, it had wiped out 85% of the population in just the US. He’s alive just because apparently his ring protects him also from deadly illnesses. And well, Damon is already dead, he wasn’t going to catch some fever.)
--
The car they’re currently using dies in the middle of a deserted road and Damon curses when he sees that there’s no gas anymore.
“You knew it would happen,” Alaric says, getting out of the car and grabbing his duffel from the trunk.
“Well, I hoped it wouldn’t happen when there isn’t another car to steal,” Damon snaps, and Alaric lets it go.
“We’ll find one. And next time just stop changing speed so much, you use a lot less gas if you keep the same speed all along,” Alaric tells him instead, and then he starts walking. Damon glares at him for a second, then picks his own bag and follows him.
(Alaric knows that Damon misses his brother even if he doesn’t say it. Then again, Alaric tries not to think about what happened back in Mystic Falls before they left.)
--
They find another car and Damon lets Alaric drive. And Alaric doesn’t drive as recklessly, which means that the gas will last a while. If only they had a place to go.
They sleep inside the car since there’s no building in sight on this particular day. Damon looks like he’d like to kill someone and he’s disgustingly pale. But it’s not like he has had much to drink lately, and drinking blood from infected people? Not a good idea. (They learned the lesson with Caroline and Stefan already.)
Alaric hands him a cigarette and Damon lights it up with shaking hands.
“You know, you can’t keep on going like this,” Alaric says, breaking the silence. “You can’t last long.”
“I can last as long as I need,” Damon as he takes drag after drag, and Alaric can see that he’s lying all the way. They’ve been on the run for two weeks, there’s no way Damon will hold it together until a month is passed.
And to be entirely honest, Alaric would rather have him around than driving through a ghost country alone.
He reaches inside his pocket and takes out his Swiss knife.
“What the heck are you doing?”
“Just pay attention and try to take just what you need, will you?” Alaric asks, and then he cuts his palm and reaches out with his hand.
Damon jerks at the sight, but doesn’t just grab it as Alaric had thought he would.
“Seriously? You are offering -”
“You aren’t the greatest person on the planet but believe me, I don’t want you dead.”
Damon’s tongue runs across his palm then, and Alaric tries not to think about the fact that it feels half-good instead of revolting.
--
He ends up offering his hand once each week. It’s barely the minimum for keeping Damon upright, but it’s not like he can afford to have much more of that sucked away. Especially because when all you can eat is canned food, you can’t just renounce too much blood.
--
“Why do you even do this?” Damon asks one night. They’re in this abandoned hotel, and it used to be fancy but now it’s probably just creepy rather than anything else. It had a couple of rooms still good for sleeping in though (meaning: two rooms without bodies on the beds), but the only one with clean sheets was the honeymoon suite. Which thankfully doesn’t have heart-shaped furniture.
Alaric closes the Swiss knife before he can cut his hand again and turns to look at Damon, who’s sitting next to him on the bed.
“Meaning?”
“I can’t think of many other people who’d stick with me that long and would actually make an effort to keep me standing meanwhile,” Damon hisses, and that’s way too sincere even for him, but Alaric figures that the end of the world changes your perspectives.
“Then it’s your lucky day,” Alaric answers, not seeing what the heck Damon is aiming at.
Damon sighs and steals a cigarette, and when Alaric opens the Swiss knife again he shakes his head.
Later that night neither of them is sleeping but Damon is obviously shaking and Alaric wonders whether Damon realizes that if he has a suicidal streak, Alaric isn’t here to indulge him.
“For fuck’s sake, take it,” Alaric says putting his wrist just in front of Damon’s face.
“Stop it,” Damon snaps back, and Alaric wants to slap him, really.
“No, you stop it.” Alaric is at the end of his patience here, and so he just grabs the Swiss knife, cuts his hand and smashes it against Damon’s lips so that he has to take it.
--
“Do you really want me around so much?” Damon asks the next morning, his voice strangely quiet. Alaric can’t help wondering how Damon still didn’t get it, but then again we’re talking about a psychotic vampire who hadn’t worked through a century of issues before a plague wiped most of the country away.
“Do you really think that between having you around and driving through this stupid country alone I’d go for the second? Hell, I can just take the ring off and shoot myself in the head then. But since I know it’s not what you want to hear -”
“How do you know what I want to hear?”
“Shut up. Yes, I want you around. No, it’s not because there isn’t no one else. Yes, I’d probably even miss your face if you starved to death. No, I’m not fucking joking. And yes, you look like you’re about to pass out, so if you want another go I guess I can stand it. Now, are you done trying to change my mind?”
He looks straight at Damon’s pale face (paler than usual at least), and then Damon closes his eyes, nods and opens them again. Alaric hands his wrist over and when Damon bites gently into his skin Alaric doesn’t look away.
--
They leave the next day, if only because Alaric wants to drive when he isn’t feeling like fainting. Damon reaches him at the driver’s door before he can get in though, and his expression is carefully blank. Alaric just wishes he’d talk.
“Thanks,” Damon says next, and nothing else, but then he moves forward, places a soft kiss at the corner of Alaric’s mouth and then leaves and gets in the passenger seat.
“Seriously?” Alaric asks as soon as he’s behind the wheel.
Damon shrugs. “I was thinking to do that already before this whole plague crap started. Figures I’d take the occasion and do it now.” He’s trying to smirk, but he’s not being good at it.
“Good thing you did before starving,” Alaric mutters, and then he starts the car.
Damon looks surprised for a second but then shakes his head and looks out of the window, then he reaches for the cigarettes on the dashboard.
Alaric doesn’t stop him and actually asks for the packet, and he doesn’t protest when Damon hands him the half-smoked cigarette he had been keeping between his lips until two seconds earlier.
End.
Pairing: Damon/Alaric
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1386
Spoilers: Implies that it's set after the beginning of S2.
Summary: where the world as we know it has ended and both Damon and Alaric try to deal with it. It doesn't necessarily go well most of the time.
Warnings: previous mentioned character death(s), blood drinking, angst overload.
Disclaimer: nothing is mine, very sadly for me.
A/N: for fullonswayzeed for the five acts exchange; it got too long and so I'm posting it in one chunk. Prompts were apocalyptic/post apocalyptic settings and cigarettes. I hope it works for you. ♥ The fever-triggered-Apocalypse device is totally stolen from Stephen King, by the way. Also using for my au_bingo square future: post-apocalypse and my hc_bingo square blood loss.
“Never pegged you for a smoker,” Damon says as Alaric brings the cigarette between his lips and takes a drag.
“It’s more advisable than drinking,” Alaric snaps back. Hell, it’s the end of the world, he doesn’t want to die drunk, not to mention that stealing cigarettes is way easier than bringing with you bottles of whatever poison you decided to go for. A packet of cigarettes will take almost no space in your coat or in your duffel, but a bottle of vodka will.
“Then again, I did peg you for the practical type.”
Then Damon steals his cigarette and takes a couple of drags before handing it over. Alaric sighs and doesn’t object.
He hadn’t really thought that something like this would happen during his lifetime, and he surely hadn’t imagined he’d end up with Damon of all people, but he has learned to work with what he has.
(This meaning that everyone in Mystic Falls is dead because of a fever. Which obviously wasn’t just a fever, since from what Alaric gathered from the last news he watched before there weren’t news anymore, it had wiped out 85% of the population in just the US. He’s alive just because apparently his ring protects him also from deadly illnesses. And well, Damon is already dead, he wasn’t going to catch some fever.)
--
The car they’re currently using dies in the middle of a deserted road and Damon curses when he sees that there’s no gas anymore.
“You knew it would happen,” Alaric says, getting out of the car and grabbing his duffel from the trunk.
“Well, I hoped it wouldn’t happen when there isn’t another car to steal,” Damon snaps, and Alaric lets it go.
“We’ll find one. And next time just stop changing speed so much, you use a lot less gas if you keep the same speed all along,” Alaric tells him instead, and then he starts walking. Damon glares at him for a second, then picks his own bag and follows him.
(Alaric knows that Damon misses his brother even if he doesn’t say it. Then again, Alaric tries not to think about what happened back in Mystic Falls before they left.)
--
They find another car and Damon lets Alaric drive. And Alaric doesn’t drive as recklessly, which means that the gas will last a while. If only they had a place to go.
They sleep inside the car since there’s no building in sight on this particular day. Damon looks like he’d like to kill someone and he’s disgustingly pale. But it’s not like he has had much to drink lately, and drinking blood from infected people? Not a good idea. (They learned the lesson with Caroline and Stefan already.)
Alaric hands him a cigarette and Damon lights it up with shaking hands.
“You know, you can’t keep on going like this,” Alaric says, breaking the silence. “You can’t last long.”
“I can last as long as I need,” Damon as he takes drag after drag, and Alaric can see that he’s lying all the way. They’ve been on the run for two weeks, there’s no way Damon will hold it together until a month is passed.
And to be entirely honest, Alaric would rather have him around than driving through a ghost country alone.
He reaches inside his pocket and takes out his Swiss knife.
“What the heck are you doing?”
“Just pay attention and try to take just what you need, will you?” Alaric asks, and then he cuts his palm and reaches out with his hand.
Damon jerks at the sight, but doesn’t just grab it as Alaric had thought he would.
“Seriously? You are offering -”
“You aren’t the greatest person on the planet but believe me, I don’t want you dead.”
Damon’s tongue runs across his palm then, and Alaric tries not to think about the fact that it feels half-good instead of revolting.
--
He ends up offering his hand once each week. It’s barely the minimum for keeping Damon upright, but it’s not like he can afford to have much more of that sucked away. Especially because when all you can eat is canned food, you can’t just renounce too much blood.
--
“Why do you even do this?” Damon asks one night. They’re in this abandoned hotel, and it used to be fancy but now it’s probably just creepy rather than anything else. It had a couple of rooms still good for sleeping in though (meaning: two rooms without bodies on the beds), but the only one with clean sheets was the honeymoon suite. Which thankfully doesn’t have heart-shaped furniture.
Alaric closes the Swiss knife before he can cut his hand again and turns to look at Damon, who’s sitting next to him on the bed.
“Meaning?”
“I can’t think of many other people who’d stick with me that long and would actually make an effort to keep me standing meanwhile,” Damon hisses, and that’s way too sincere even for him, but Alaric figures that the end of the world changes your perspectives.
“Then it’s your lucky day,” Alaric answers, not seeing what the heck Damon is aiming at.
Damon sighs and steals a cigarette, and when Alaric opens the Swiss knife again he shakes his head.
Later that night neither of them is sleeping but Damon is obviously shaking and Alaric wonders whether Damon realizes that if he has a suicidal streak, Alaric isn’t here to indulge him.
“For fuck’s sake, take it,” Alaric says putting his wrist just in front of Damon’s face.
“Stop it,” Damon snaps back, and Alaric wants to slap him, really.
“No, you stop it.” Alaric is at the end of his patience here, and so he just grabs the Swiss knife, cuts his hand and smashes it against Damon’s lips so that he has to take it.
--
“Do you really want me around so much?” Damon asks the next morning, his voice strangely quiet. Alaric can’t help wondering how Damon still didn’t get it, but then again we’re talking about a psychotic vampire who hadn’t worked through a century of issues before a plague wiped most of the country away.
“Do you really think that between having you around and driving through this stupid country alone I’d go for the second? Hell, I can just take the ring off and shoot myself in the head then. But since I know it’s not what you want to hear -”
“How do you know what I want to hear?”
“Shut up. Yes, I want you around. No, it’s not because there isn’t no one else. Yes, I’d probably even miss your face if you starved to death. No, I’m not fucking joking. And yes, you look like you’re about to pass out, so if you want another go I guess I can stand it. Now, are you done trying to change my mind?”
He looks straight at Damon’s pale face (paler than usual at least), and then Damon closes his eyes, nods and opens them again. Alaric hands his wrist over and when Damon bites gently into his skin Alaric doesn’t look away.
--
They leave the next day, if only because Alaric wants to drive when he isn’t feeling like fainting. Damon reaches him at the driver’s door before he can get in though, and his expression is carefully blank. Alaric just wishes he’d talk.
“Thanks,” Damon says next, and nothing else, but then he moves forward, places a soft kiss at the corner of Alaric’s mouth and then leaves and gets in the passenger seat.
“Seriously?” Alaric asks as soon as he’s behind the wheel.
Damon shrugs. “I was thinking to do that already before this whole plague crap started. Figures I’d take the occasion and do it now.” He’s trying to smirk, but he’s not being good at it.
“Good thing you did before starving,” Alaric mutters, and then he starts the car.
Damon looks surprised for a second but then shakes his head and looks out of the window, then he reaches for the cigarettes on the dashboard.
Alaric doesn’t stop him and actually asks for the packet, and he doesn’t protest when Damon hands him the half-smoked cigarette he had been keeping between his lips until two seconds earlier.
End.