A/N: I thought the Damon-Alaric scenes in episode 3x12 cried out for some fanfic, particularly the scene in Ric's apartment, so this is an elaboration on Damon's point of view during this episode, with a Damon/Alaric slash twist. Just a one-shot, at least for now. Rated M for slash and language.

Disclaimer: I don't own Damon, Alaric, or The Vampire Diaries, unfortunately.

Cold Hard Truth

Damon Salvatore groaned and thought about opening his eyes. It didn't seem like a particularly appealing idea at the moment, and he shifted to sink deeper into his soft, fluffy down pillow. Except that wasn't his pillow under his cheek. It was something cold and hard. He forced open his eyes with another groan. He was lying on a cold, sterile tile floor, staring at something with wheels. Like a bed with wheels. Fuck, he was out cold on the floor of a hospital room.

Damon pushed himself up to a seated position with difficulty. He knew this feeling of lassitude that was dragging his body down and dragging at his mind. Someone had vervained him. And then he remembered who as his fogged brain started to function again. Dr. Meredith Fell. She had vervained him after he had confronted her about the dead medical examiner. He groaned again. How the hell had she gotten the jump on him? He was really slipping lately.

He noticed then that his leather jacket was half off and his sleeve had been pulled up on one arm. He stared at the exposed skin of his arm as he realized what she had to have done. She had stolen some of his blood. Fuck, he thought again. Nothing good could possibly come of this.

And, Damon remembered with a start of fear, she had been targeting Alaric. He tried frantically to get his feet under him only to slip and fall back to the floor as his muscles refused to obey him. Fucking vervain. He had been building a tolerance, but apparently she had given him a big enough dose to override whatever resistance he had developed. Damon slumped there for a long couple of minutes, resting his head against the unforgiving hardness of the wall behind him and trying to gather his strength. He had no idea how long he had been there or how much blood psycho-doctor had taken. Or what she might have planned for Ric.

Finally, he tried again to get to his feet and this time he made it, with a lot of help from the wall. He leaned heavily there for a few breaths before pulling his sleeve down and twisting his jacket back in place. He was probably going to look like a drunk getting out of there, but he could at least look like a presentable drunk. Damon struggled for a moment with the dexterity needed to turn the doorknob before he got the door open and staggered out into the hall. Miraculously the hallway was empty except for a couple of busy-looking nurses who paid him no mind, and Damon kept one hand on the wall for support as he made his way toward the exit as quickly as possible in his weakened condition.


Damon hurried up the stairs to Alaric's apartment as various nightmare scenarios floated through his mind. Psycho-doctor knew that he was a vampire and she knew that he and Ric were friends. And she knew that he had saved Ric's life. Not good in any case, and doubly not good in a paranoid town like Mystic Falls. He relaxed a fraction as he reached Ric's door and heard only one heartbeat inside. It was slightly accelerated, but certainly not panicked – and he was almost certain that it was Alaric. He didn't want to think about why he was so familiar with the peculiarities of Ric's heart rate, and breathing, and scent. Damon opened the door and let himself in.

He relaxed the rest of the way as he spotted Ric lifting weights on the far side of the spacious, open living room. That explained the slightly accelerated heartbeat, not to mention the sexy smell of a little sweat. Damon forced his still shaky legs into his usual nonchalant stroll as he crossed the room toward Ric's kitchen and a tantalizing bottle of alcohol on the counter. It had been a fucking long, bad day in a bad week.

"What are you doing here?" Ric asked, an edge of annoyance in his voice.

Damon continued to feign nonchalance. "Ah, looking for a bunny," he replied as he pulled the lid off a large pot on Ric's stove and peaked inside. "You're good for now," he informed Ric.

"Still obsessed with Meredith?" Alaric racked his weight bar and sat up. Damon hid a grin at how quickly Ric had picked up his reference, but his friend just gave Damon one of those angry glares that had been all too common lately. "I mean, don't you have an original vampire to worry about?" he added caustically.

"Nunh uh uh," Damon countered. "Do ten more of those. You're going to want to buff up, you start dating this one." He poured himself the drink that he had been eying. Too bad Alaric only had mugs, not the nice crystal glasses that he had at his house. Right now, Damon wasn't picky, however. "Self-defense and all," he added.

Ric had stood up. "What is your problem?" he snarled.

"Your doctor vervained me," Damon informed him. "And then she blood-jacked me." He sank into his favorite chair and put his feet up, trying not to give away that his body was still aching and weak from the vervain. It felt good to sit down.

"When did you even see her?"

"When I went to the hospital to accuse her of killing her ex-boyfriend. Which by the way, very sensitive subject." Damon looked away because Alaric looked way too sexy standing there. He was wearing a tight little wifebeater, partly soaked with sweat, and he looked so tall and fit, all lean, strong muscles. Damon wanted to run his hands over that body, and he knew he shouldn't be thinking that because Alaric hated him now. And he was supposed to be in love with Elena, he reminded himself. He had even kissed Elena, and this time not only had it actually been her, but she had kissed him back. It was nice, and he was thrilled about it at first. But the more he had thought about it, the more he had realized that the kiss didn't really live up to his expectations – he was Damon Salvatore, and "nice" was a pretty low standard for him – and Elena had gotten all avoidy since then anyway, which made him think she was still hung up on Stefan.

Alaric's angry voice drew him back to the present. "Damon, what the hell are you doing, huh?" Ric looked even sexier when he was pissed, and Damon had the sudden thought that kissing Ric would be way better than nice.

"Why are you mad at me?" Damon countered incredulously. He was the one who just got vervained by the psycho case, after all, and he had rushed over without even a glass of blood first to make sure that Ric was okay. Ric could show just a little bit of concern for him. Sure, the teacher was still upset with him about that little neck snapping incident, but Damon was sorry about that. He had even said so, sort of, and after all he had made sure that Ric was wearing his ring beforehand so that it would just be a temporary death. It had been a mistake, and he just really wanted Ric to forget it had ever happened and move on already. And not to a new girlfriend, either.

Ric was still glaring at him. "I told you I'd handle this."

"I proved your theory – diagnosed psycho case. You're welcome." Damon sipped his drink and settled back into the comfortable softness of the chair. He was fucking exhausted, and the vervain lingering in his body had left him weaker than he wanted to admit. He let his eyes drift closed.

And opened them as he felt Alaric's scent envelope him. Ric plucked the mug of bourbon from Damon's hand and set it aside as he pushed Damon's knees wider. He knelt between Damon's legs as Damon felt his own heart rate pick up. "So she vervained you, huh?" he asked with a little smile on his face. "Do you need me to make it better?" He ran his hands along Damon's thighs.

Damon started, surprised. This was a change of tone, although he wasn't complaining. "Yes," he said, warming to the situation. He tilted his head and gave his best flirty little smile. "You should kiss me and make it better."

"Hmmm," was all Ric said, but he bent forward and kissed Damon, his tongue probing for entrance that Damon happily granted. He ran his hands up and down Damon's chest as their tongues dueled, and Damon moaned. Ric was pressing him down into the chair, and the weakness in his muscles from the vervain made him feel utterly at Ric's mercy. It was fucking hot.

Damon wriggled out of his leather jacket as Ric's hands unfastened his belt and teased at the button on his pants. He left Damon hanging, however, slipping his hands under Damon's shirt instead and pushing it up over his head. Damon lifted his arms to help get the shirt off, even as he squirmed a little in frustration at jeans that were way too tight right now. "Ric," he whined as his friend began to tease a nipple with his tongue.

"Have a little patience, Damon," Ric said. He pulled back slightly and stripped off his own tank top, and Damon found himself even more aroused at the sight of the teacher's sexy, muscled body. "You know," Ric added. "I could use a shower right about now."

"As long as you want company," Damon replied. "Although I like you just fine like this, all sweaty and hot." He exerted himself to sit up and pull Ric toward him for another long, steamy kiss. Then it was Ric's turn to drag Damon up and out of the chair. They slammed into a wall and left a trail of clothes behind on their way to the bathroom, and then they were standing under a hot stream of water. Damon moaned as he let Ric push him hard against the shower wall, and he wrapped his legs around Ric's waist as the teacher-turned-vampire-hunter lifted him with strong arms. Their lips met in another blistering kiss, and then Ric was thrusting into him, hard and fast, and Damon cried out in ecstasy as Ric hit just the right spot over and over again.

Ric's hand was also stroking Damon's cock between their bodies, and he looked so fucking sexy with his dark blonde hair plastered to his head and his body slick with water. Damon loved the stubble on his jaw and the light coating of hair on his chest that contrasted with Damon's own smooth skin. Damon moaned again and leaned in to claim another kiss from that expressive, talented mouth. He felt Ric thrust into him deeper and harder in response, and he came a moment later, his cum mixing with the water running down their bodies. Ric drove into him roughly a couple more times before he followed, crying out. Damon slumped against a muscular shoulder at the feeling of Ric releasing into him, and he felt his fangs come out. He bit into Ric's neck and tasted fresh, exquisite blood flavored with the spice of orgasm. Alaric moaned loudly as Damon sucked at his blood for just a moment before drawing away. They both sank to the floor of the shower in sated exhaustion, slumping together. Damon sighed happily, the rest of his bad day forgotten, as the warm water beat down on them.


Alaric's annoyed voice penetrated Damon's moment of bliss. "Damon, wake up. Someone is texting you, and it might actually be important. And this is not your house. Go home if you want to sleep." He turned away from Damon with a look of disgust, and Damon realized with a start that he had been dreaming. Fuck. He rubbed his hand over his eyes to try to rub away sleep and the fantasy that he wished was more than that.

Slightly dazed at being abruptly pulled back to reality, he dug into the pocket of his jacket until he found his phone. He stared at the screen. It was Bonnie with another damn coffin crisis. Stefan's plan just kept getting worse and worse. "Fuck," Damon muttered as he dragged his tired body up out of the chair.

"What is it?" Ric asked. A look of concern mixed with the anger and disgust on his face.

"Nothing," Damon lied. The contrast between the reality of Ric's anger and his fantasy had just hit him hard, and he didn't think he could handle much more. Plus the location of the coffins was supposed to be a tightly guarded secret – as was the fact that Stefan had let him in on his plan. "I just have to go fix another one of Stefan's mistakes." He forced his body to move and his voice to take on his usual sarcastic tone. "Don't worry. I'll just let myself out."

He paused for just a moment on the other side of the door to contemplate the mess that he had made of his life and pounded a fist into the hard brick of the wall. Then he set off to move some coffins.