Entry tags:
Vampire Diaries ficlet
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turnonmyheels: buddy fic either Damon & Alaric or Damon & Elena.
Elena covered her head with her hands, crouching low as Damon vaulted into place beside her, somehow (vampire skills, must be) managing not to land on any part of her despite ending up wedged against her side. She panted, then had to struggle not to gag as the dumpster smell assaulted her. It was stomach-turningly sweet underneath the overpowering rottenness, and there was something dark and sticky right in front of her face.
When she got her gorge under control, she turned her head to check on Damon. There wasn’t much light getting through to the space between the dumpster and the brick wall behind them, but she thought he looked marginally in control.
At least he was here, with her, instead of trying to fend off five werewolves all by himself. Elena wondered if it was something about being over a hundred years old, or at least about not growing up with the macho ideal so many guys her age seemed to obsess over: when Damon looked at a situation that he couldn’t handle, he actually showed some realism.
Well, sometimes.
Damon’s eyes gleamed. She could just tell that he was thinking something snarky, and also suggestive, given that he was two layers of clothing away from second base. She rolled her eyes and listened for the sound of large, beastlike entities.
She heard a whine, and then a series of growling roars accompanied by crashes—territory fight, maybe? Too bad none of her classes had ever covered paranormal dominance rituals. She was not really feeling the terror on an emotional level even as her body shook with adrenaline. Afterwards—there would be an afterwards, there had to be—she’d whimper into Stefan’s chest. Right now, though, taking her cues from Damon’s self-assurance was definitely in her best interests.
She didn’t flinch when his arm moved against her, bringing his hand up to his face so that he could—give her a thumbs up?
Elena narrowed her eyes; Damon widened his and wiggled his head a little, then moved his lips as if he were speaking into his fist.
Phone!
Okay, so maybe the terror was affecting her reasoning processes. Vampires she could deal with; having wolfpack added in was apparently making her go all Bella Swan. She fumbled for her phone, and Damon sort of folded himself over her, presumably cutting off any bleed of light from the screen. Mystic Falls had excellent reception, and she was able to text Stefan. Now they just had to hope that he’d get the message soon.
More snarls and bangs, something tearing, a whimper. Then two sets of feet, running away. That left three, unless one or more was out of commission from the fight.
Was that a scuffling sound, like a beast approaching? Damon’s expression was the version of blank he used when he was actually worried. She could see the humanity draining out of him, and it had nothing to do with the suddenly prominent veins on his face.
Another crunch-scrape, definitely closer. Damon closed his eyes, just for a second, and then he was gone. Elena heard a roar, human—vampire—this time, followed by a ripping sound and a howl of protest, then a thunk.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” Damon said, but he sounded choked. There was an endless pause, then a crash-bang and wood splintering—probably one of the pallets in the alley. Then more noise, animal grunts, meat against concrete. Wet sounds, like someone was hacking a watermelon apart. Elena shuddered and stuffed her hand in her mouth so that she wouldn’t make any noise.
After a minute of silence, she considered her options. At this time of night downtown, it would take at least a couple of minutes to get somewhere with an unlocked door. And she doubted werewolves had to be invited inside, if they caught her scent. On the other hand, it could be pretty dumb to hang around the area of the fight waiting to be dug out like some (unfortunately literal) buried bone.
“Elena!” Stefan’s worried yell solved her dilemma.
Uncurling, already sore from scrunching up, she started to edge her way towards the small slice of night she could see between the dumpster and the wall. “Here!”
With a clank-groan, the dumpster pulled back further, allowing her to get out without squeezing like toothpaste. Boyfriends with superstrength were the best kind. She fell into Stefan’s arms—to his great credit, he ignored how much she smelled like garbage—and hugged him hard.
“Damon went out—”
“Hail the conquering hero,” Damon said lightly, close enough that Elena would’ve jumped if she hadn’t been completely used to his tricks, and terrored-out besides. There was a smear of blood with no obvious source across his cheek.
Stefan turned, and his lip curled the way it did when he was fighting off blood hunger. “You’re hurt.”
When Elena pulled back further, she could see that Damon had his hand pressed tightly to the side of his stomach. There was a dark stain on his shirt, and she was stomach-turningly certain that his hand was going further in than it really should’ve if his body had been … intact. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Hey, anybody called Ric yet? Werewolves, don’t you think he’ll be thrilled? I know I am.”
Elena bit her lip. Damon would most likely joke through a mortal wound, but there was really nothing she could do here. “How many got away?” she asked, hoping that they’d take that as a cue to go home, where it was safer and where Damon could get patched up.
Sure enough, Stefan clutched her tighter and Damon cast a glance over his shoulder. “Three,” he said.
“Let’s get out of here,” Stefan decided. Damon opened his mouth, most likely to call him out for being unelected, but Elena gave him her own cautionary look and he subsided.
And if Damon put his arm around her as they headed back to Stefan’s car, she was okay with letting Damon pretend that he was just doing it to piss Stefan off. She could feel the hesitation in his step, and it was actually kind of touching that he wasn’t trying to hide from her.
“Thanks,” she said as she was buckling him into the passenger seat, trying not to freak out at the (vampire) blood getting all over her hands.
Damon’s jaw tightened and he stared forward, as if the bird droppings on the windshield were of desperate interest.
That was okay, Elena decided as she scooted into the back seat. Let Damon have his little mannerisms.
She planned to have plenty of time to remind him how to deal with gratitude.
turnonmyheels: buddy fic either Damon & Alaric or Damon & Elena.Elena covered her head with her hands, crouching low as Damon vaulted into place beside her, somehow (vampire skills, must be) managing not to land on any part of her despite ending up wedged against her side. She panted, then had to struggle not to gag as the dumpster smell assaulted her. It was stomach-turningly sweet underneath the overpowering rottenness, and there was something dark and sticky right in front of her face.
When she got her gorge under control, she turned her head to check on Damon. There wasn’t much light getting through to the space between the dumpster and the brick wall behind them, but she thought he looked marginally in control.
At least he was here, with her, instead of trying to fend off five werewolves all by himself. Elena wondered if it was something about being over a hundred years old, or at least about not growing up with the macho ideal so many guys her age seemed to obsess over: when Damon looked at a situation that he couldn’t handle, he actually showed some realism.
Well, sometimes.
Damon’s eyes gleamed. She could just tell that he was thinking something snarky, and also suggestive, given that he was two layers of clothing away from second base. She rolled her eyes and listened for the sound of large, beastlike entities.
She heard a whine, and then a series of growling roars accompanied by crashes—territory fight, maybe? Too bad none of her classes had ever covered paranormal dominance rituals. She was not really feeling the terror on an emotional level even as her body shook with adrenaline. Afterwards—there would be an afterwards, there had to be—she’d whimper into Stefan’s chest. Right now, though, taking her cues from Damon’s self-assurance was definitely in her best interests.
She didn’t flinch when his arm moved against her, bringing his hand up to his face so that he could—give her a thumbs up?
Elena narrowed her eyes; Damon widened his and wiggled his head a little, then moved his lips as if he were speaking into his fist.
Phone!
Okay, so maybe the terror was affecting her reasoning processes. Vampires she could deal with; having wolfpack added in was apparently making her go all Bella Swan. She fumbled for her phone, and Damon sort of folded himself over her, presumably cutting off any bleed of light from the screen. Mystic Falls had excellent reception, and she was able to text Stefan. Now they just had to hope that he’d get the message soon.
More snarls and bangs, something tearing, a whimper. Then two sets of feet, running away. That left three, unless one or more was out of commission from the fight.
Was that a scuffling sound, like a beast approaching? Damon’s expression was the version of blank he used when he was actually worried. She could see the humanity draining out of him, and it had nothing to do with the suddenly prominent veins on his face.
Another crunch-scrape, definitely closer. Damon closed his eyes, just for a second, and then he was gone. Elena heard a roar, human—vampire—this time, followed by a ripping sound and a howl of protest, then a thunk.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” Damon said, but he sounded choked. There was an endless pause, then a crash-bang and wood splintering—probably one of the pallets in the alley. Then more noise, animal grunts, meat against concrete. Wet sounds, like someone was hacking a watermelon apart. Elena shuddered and stuffed her hand in her mouth so that she wouldn’t make any noise.
After a minute of silence, she considered her options. At this time of night downtown, it would take at least a couple of minutes to get somewhere with an unlocked door. And she doubted werewolves had to be invited inside, if they caught her scent. On the other hand, it could be pretty dumb to hang around the area of the fight waiting to be dug out like some (unfortunately literal) buried bone.
“Elena!” Stefan’s worried yell solved her dilemma.
Uncurling, already sore from scrunching up, she started to edge her way towards the small slice of night she could see between the dumpster and the wall. “Here!”
With a clank-groan, the dumpster pulled back further, allowing her to get out without squeezing like toothpaste. Boyfriends with superstrength were the best kind. She fell into Stefan’s arms—to his great credit, he ignored how much she smelled like garbage—and hugged him hard.
“Damon went out—”
“Hail the conquering hero,” Damon said lightly, close enough that Elena would’ve jumped if she hadn’t been completely used to his tricks, and terrored-out besides. There was a smear of blood with no obvious source across his cheek.
Stefan turned, and his lip curled the way it did when he was fighting off blood hunger. “You’re hurt.”
When Elena pulled back further, she could see that Damon had his hand pressed tightly to the side of his stomach. There was a dark stain on his shirt, and she was stomach-turningly certain that his hand was going further in than it really should’ve if his body had been … intact. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Hey, anybody called Ric yet? Werewolves, don’t you think he’ll be thrilled? I know I am.”
Elena bit her lip. Damon would most likely joke through a mortal wound, but there was really nothing she could do here. “How many got away?” she asked, hoping that they’d take that as a cue to go home, where it was safer and where Damon could get patched up.
Sure enough, Stefan clutched her tighter and Damon cast a glance over his shoulder. “Three,” he said.
“Let’s get out of here,” Stefan decided. Damon opened his mouth, most likely to call him out for being unelected, but Elena gave him her own cautionary look and he subsided.
And if Damon put his arm around her as they headed back to Stefan’s car, she was okay with letting Damon pretend that he was just doing it to piss Stefan off. She could feel the hesitation in his step, and it was actually kind of touching that he wasn’t trying to hide from her.
“Thanks,” she said as she was buckling him into the passenger seat, trying not to freak out at the (vampire) blood getting all over her hands.
Damon’s jaw tightened and he stared forward, as if the bird droppings on the windshield were of desperate interest.
That was okay, Elena decided as she scooted into the back seat. Let Damon have his little mannerisms.
She planned to have plenty of time to remind him how to deal with gratitude.
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That sounds very much like Damon.
<3s Elena. I am SURE she dragged him to the boarding house and checked him over afterwards.
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This is awesome! Love your reference to Damon not worrying too much about the macho ideal. I've noticed that too. Particularly after Pearl kicked his ass. Of course he does his share of posturing as well (or bluffing I guess).
Love Damon! Love Damon with Ric! Kinda of love Damon with Elena too which surprises me. Of course the whole threesome vibe is maybe kinky enough to make up for the het!
Love your vignette! "She planned to have plenty of time to remind him how to deal with gratitude." Hmmm...your last line is particularly interesting.
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I doubt the show will have Elena end up a vampire--but I'm willing to be surprised!
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