A/N: Let's establish that I am neither Kevin Williamson nor Julie Plec nor L.J. Smith and I have no claim to the Vampire Diaries. While I'm at it, I'll also assure you that this story will never get racier or raunchier or bloodier than the TV series upon which it is based. That said, amusez-vous!
Outsiders and Sweaty Palms
In his wildest dreams, Alaric Saltzman had never expected this. He should have, of course, ever since that rainy day when he witnessed them fighting in his classroom. He had felt as if he were intruding on a private scene between two people in their own world. Two people who just understood each other. Who knew each other. He had admitted that her safety would distract him, and that impassioned statement had proven to Alaric that, when it came to her, he really did "get it".
Which is why Alaric had not found himself surprised when she had walked out on his arm instead of his brother's at the pageant. She falls, and he catches her. He despairs, and she gives him hope. Yin and Yang. Complete in each other. Alaric had never understood why she stayed with Stefan. Fear of more, perhaps? A passion that could set two hearts on fire—and theirs certainly did—always carried with it the potential of leaving only charred remains.
But he would never hurt her. Someday, Alaric had known, she would realize that. And when the day would come when she would give in to those great sparks between them, she would never go back. He was her destiny.
He was also hyperventilating at present.
"Ric, Ric, why did I ever want this? It's too soon; I'm not ready for this! I've been around for 150 years and I've never had a successful relationship!"
Alaric remained silent, setting candles on the table as Damon returned to his pasta, which had begun to simmer.
"Ric, you have to stay here. I can't do this alone! Just stay, and make sure I don't say something stupid," Damon pleaded.
Crash! The glass Damon had been fiddling with shattered on the floor.
"What kind of vampire has sweaty palms, Ric?" Damon cried.
Don't laugh, Alaric told himself, It'll only make it worse.
"I'll stay, if you want," Alaric heard himself say.
"Really? Thanks, Ric. Now, be a buddy and get the door for me? I hear her car coming."
"Hi, Elena," Alaric greeted as he opened the door. Hmph, don't see what Damon was nervous about. The way she's dressed…Maybe I should have a talk with that boy… his overprotective stepfather side butted in.
"Hi, Ric! So, I assume Damon is here somewhere?"
"He should be in the kitchen," Alaric supplied. Absurd as it was given her experience navigating the boarding house, she followed him to the kitchen.
Alaric blushed upon their arrival, having never seen that look in a man's eyes before. Had he even ever seen that look in Jenna's eyes?
He turned to Elena and determined that she was probably stripping Damon with her eyes, too. And he had felt like an outsider that day in his classroom…
"You look nice," Damon rasped, his eyes never leaving her figure.
"Hmm? Oh, you too," Elena replied, brown eyes full of his broad chest.
A few seconds passed in which Alaric seriously considered making a run for it.
"Damon?"
"Mhmm?"
"What's Alaric doing here?"
"Oh, right. Alaric, go home."
"But you told me to stay…"
"Please go, Ric," Elena breathed.
Alaric wasted no time with goodbyes that would fall on deaf ears and drove home.
Maybe it was for the best that she had waited until she was eighteen to date Damon…