Day 4: Bound By Destiny (The Vampire Diaries, Damon/Alaric, R)
Title: Bound By Destiny
Author: misspopuri
Prompt #: 13 - Alternate Universe
Prompt table: Ea
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Rating: R - for extreme violence, language
Character/Pairing: Damon/Alaric
Word count: ~568 (WIP?)
Disclamer: I don’t own TVD, its affiliates, or the CW.
Summary: In an all-human AU, Alaric was always the smart one, Damon was the wild one, how could these two ever stand each other’s company?
If I was smart, I would not have let him talk me into the trouble we were in now. Trouble followed us everywhere, our neighbors told us where we grew up that they could not keep us contained. Two rotten apples, desperate souls rather, that clung to one another through everything that came to them.
In fact, the first time I met Damon Salvatore, God, do I remember that day well. How could I forget the first words he ever spoke to me, I beat him fair and square to the truck for my own serving of Chunky Monkey. The joy I would have felt at eating my favorite dessert was only shadowed by his unyielding smirk.
His jealousy was apparent as he took my plastic container out of my hand without asking. The nerve of this kid, I thought to myself, the anger boiled inside me as only an average five year old would be able to conjure up. Licking his lips, he smacked them and slowly ate all my ice cream.
Turning to me, he grinned this time and said, “I’d like to thank you for this. I owe you one.”
Even though he was a whole year older than me and I was not physically built to handle a beat-down by other kids, it was a risk I was willing to take. My pride and hurt feelings balled my fists at my sides-though they were tiny and not very strong-my left fist slammed into the lower part of Damon’s stomach. The impact left Damon reeling as he dropped my ice cream to the ground, spilling the rest of its contents.
As if that wasn’t enough, while Damon was lying on his back, I jumped on top of him. The gravel road underneath Damon was going to leave him bloody on the back of his head when I was finished with him. My small mind couldn’t comprehend the dangerous nature of this type of fighting.
The overall spectacle brought a crowd to watch two little boys go at it in the street. Like most small towns where fights occur rarely, it was a rare spectacle to behold. I wasn’t paying attention to the crowd that day, but witnesses who were there knew I was going crazy. I still hear about it. The young man driving the truck stopped handing out ice cream to try to pull me off Damon, but my feet kicked out of the man’s restraint which led to my feet cooperating to kick Damon in both the legs and crotch.
With the chanting and cheers escalated, another adult-another name I didn’t learn until later was Damon’s father-pulled Damon away from me as the ice cream man finally got control. His old man made a threat to sue my parents for everything they had. It didn’t go unnoticed that I saw Damon grin even with two black eyes and possible broken ribs.
As I stood there catching my breath from fighting, I could hear my mother yell down from our porch.
“ALARIC JAMES SALTZMAN, YOU WILL BE SORRY WHEN YOUR FATHER GETS HOME.”
Like most times she used my middle name to empathize my point, I could only picture a wooden board with five nails in the top for extra pain. My back side tightened as I recalled the feeling against my butt.
That first meeting was just the beginning.
Author: misspopuri
Prompt #: 13 - Alternate Universe
Prompt table: Ea
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Rating: R - for extreme violence, language
Character/Pairing: Damon/Alaric
Word count: ~568 (WIP?)
Disclamer: I don’t own TVD, its affiliates, or the CW.
Summary: In an all-human AU, Alaric was always the smart one, Damon was the wild one, how could these two ever stand each other’s company?
If I was smart, I would not have let him talk me into the trouble we were in now. Trouble followed us everywhere, our neighbors told us where we grew up that they could not keep us contained. Two rotten apples, desperate souls rather, that clung to one another through everything that came to them.
In fact, the first time I met Damon Salvatore, God, do I remember that day well. How could I forget the first words he ever spoke to me, I beat him fair and square to the truck for my own serving of Chunky Monkey. The joy I would have felt at eating my favorite dessert was only shadowed by his unyielding smirk.
His jealousy was apparent as he took my plastic container out of my hand without asking. The nerve of this kid, I thought to myself, the anger boiled inside me as only an average five year old would be able to conjure up. Licking his lips, he smacked them and slowly ate all my ice cream.
Turning to me, he grinned this time and said, “I’d like to thank you for this. I owe you one.”
Even though he was a whole year older than me and I was not physically built to handle a beat-down by other kids, it was a risk I was willing to take. My pride and hurt feelings balled my fists at my sides-though they were tiny and not very strong-my left fist slammed into the lower part of Damon’s stomach. The impact left Damon reeling as he dropped my ice cream to the ground, spilling the rest of its contents.
As if that wasn’t enough, while Damon was lying on his back, I jumped on top of him. The gravel road underneath Damon was going to leave him bloody on the back of his head when I was finished with him. My small mind couldn’t comprehend the dangerous nature of this type of fighting.
The overall spectacle brought a crowd to watch two little boys go at it in the street. Like most small towns where fights occur rarely, it was a rare spectacle to behold. I wasn’t paying attention to the crowd that day, but witnesses who were there knew I was going crazy. I still hear about it. The young man driving the truck stopped handing out ice cream to try to pull me off Damon, but my feet kicked out of the man’s restraint which led to my feet cooperating to kick Damon in both the legs and crotch.
With the chanting and cheers escalated, another adult-another name I didn’t learn until later was Damon’s father-pulled Damon away from me as the ice cream man finally got control. His old man made a threat to sue my parents for everything they had. It didn’t go unnoticed that I saw Damon grin even with two black eyes and possible broken ribs.
As I stood there catching my breath from fighting, I could hear my mother yell down from our porch.
“ALARIC JAMES SALTZMAN, YOU WILL BE SORRY WHEN YOUR FATHER GETS HOME.”
Like most times she used my middle name to empathize my point, I could only picture a wooden board with five nails in the top for extra pain. My back side tightened as I recalled the feeling against my butt.
That first meeting was just the beginning.