Title: Love Hurts

Author: Indigo Night

Feedback: Yes please

Summary: Jenna breaks up with Alaric, and he finds unexpected comfort.

Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries or the characters.

Spoilers: I guess, through 2.14, though mild.

Pairing: Damon/Alaric, implied Alaric/Jenna and one-sided Damon/Elena.

Warnings: Slash. Sex. Alcohol.

Author's Note: Watching 2.14 tonight, I anticipate a Jenna/Alaric break up, resulting from her finding out about all the lying that's been going around. Then this just kind of came out. It's a little rough, definitely un-beta'd, but it amused me. Read, Review,

ENJOY!

Alaric is pretty sure this is a stupid idea. He and Damon had somehow developed some sort of casual friendship, but this is probably pushing it.

He's seriously considering just turning around and leaving as he heads up to the front door. But before he can make up his mind he's standing in front of it, and Damon has already opened it.

One look is all he needs.

"Word travels fast," he huffs.

Damon shrugs, "Jenna told Elena, Elena told Stefan, and Stefan… well, you know girls, they just can't keep things quiet."

Alaric nods; in retrospect he shouldn't be surprised.

"So I suppose you're here in hopes of washing away your angst with copious amounts of my excellent scotch." For once, there's no malice, no sarcasm, and only a little bit of teasing in Damon's voice.

Alaric finds himself unexpectedly surprised and grateful. He just nods; nothing else needs to be said.

An hour later finds them both completely wasted. Damon is sprawling in his favorite chair, watching amusedly as Alaric paces/stumbles around in front of him.

"Okay, yeah, I lied. But I'm not the only one, Elena's been lying to her too, but they're probably eating ice cream and talking about me, or whatever girls do, right now. Jenna can still trust her." His voice takes on a higher pitch, imitating Jenna, "That's different. Elena's a teenager, the all keep secrets. But you are, were, my boyfriend, I'm supposed to be able to trust you." His voice returns to normal with a sound somewhere between and curse word and growl.

"Screw girls," Damon agrees, waving his glass around in a motion that imitates a toast, "They act all high and mighty, but really, they lie just as much as we do." The bitterness in his voice doesn't need elaboration, but he goes on anyway. "I mean really, what good have girls ever really brought us? Isabelle up and ditched you for death, Jenna dumps you over a teeny-tiny lie. Katherine jerks me around by the strings for a couple centuries, and Elena…" He leaves it at that.

Alaric flops onto the couch next to Damon's chair with a huff. "Girls are stupid," he agrees.

It's catharsis. They won't really mean these things in the morning, or at least they won't admit to it. But right now, they're drunk and they're hurt, and really, what more excuse do they need?

They're silent for a long time, drinking and brooding, and when Alaric gets up to refill his glass, Damon doesn't bother controlling where his eyes wonder. Then the thought is there in his mind; it won't go away, but he's not sure he wants it to. It certainly won't fix their girl problems, but in the mean time… it could be fun.

Alaric doesn't see it coming. Abruptly Damon is there in front of him, and he's not standing over the drink cart anymore, he's pressed up against a wall with his empty glass abandoned on the floor.

He realizes hazily that Damon's face is really, really close. Then the taste of scotch in his mouth doubles as something soft and wet invades it. It's strange, but at the same time, it feels really, really good. The tension of surprise leaves his body, in fact all the tension that he carries around all the time without really knowing why drains out of him.

It isn't long before Alaric's hands are sliding under Damon's shirt, and Damon's hands are squeezing Alaric's ass. There's panting and grunting and quickly clothes tossed carelessly all over the room.

Alaric reverses their positions, vaguely surprised at the ease with which he can do so, pressing Damon against the wall as his lips move down the vampire's neck. Damon fists one hand in Alaric's hair, while the other reaches for his cock.

"Come on, big boy," Damon pants, even now not losing his talent for snark, "Skip the foreplay."

Things are moving so fast Alaric can barely process them. Damon captures his hand, sucking three of his fingers for a moment, and before Alaric knows it his fingers are in Damon's ass.

He's hot and tight, nourished by the blood he's been mixing his alcohol with all evening, and Alaric can feel himself throbbing at just the thought of being incased inside of Damon.

But the actuality is even better than the anticipation. Damon manages to wrap his legs around Alaric's waist and hold himself up against the wall as Alaric thrusts into him. Hands grip and teeth clash; and it feels so good that neither of them even consider what might happen after.

With an amazing feat of vampire strength they somehow migrate from the wall, to the table, to the couch, to the back of the chair, and finally to the floor without separating even a little.

And when it's over they lie panting side by side and don't say a word. They don't talk about it, and they never will.

In the morning Alaric will go crawling back to Jenna, and Damon will return to his schemes.

It's an unspoken understanding between them. Love hurts.