"One of these days, I'm going to learn to say no to you."

Damon turned to Alaric, one eyebrow arched in that smug little smirk that Alaric both loved and hated.

"Not likely. Besides, if it wasn't for me, you'd still be home trudging through bullshit essays on the Revolution or something from a bunch of snot-nosed kids. You need me to make your life interesting."

Alaric resisted the urge to roll his eyes; it would only satisfy Damon's infernal drive to annoy him as much as possible. "The Civil War," he said instead, with patience that could only come from years of teaching pre- and post-pubescent children in a public school. "And they're not 'snot-nosed kids,' they're teenagers."

Damon waved a hand dismissively. "Now you're just arguing semantics. Either way, I'm your best hope for even a moderately entertaining evening. You should be thanking me."

"Oh, I should be thanking you for dragging me away from a perfectly relaxing night in with take-out Chinese and TiVo to the middle of a cemetery on the coldest, rainiest, shittiest night all fall to help you, what—?"

"Save Mystic Falls from a murderous rogue vampire."

"Right. This of course being a vast improvement to grading papers and watching recorded television."

"Well, see, as great as all that sounds," Damon said, sauntering a few steps towards Alaric until they were close enough Alaric could smell the lingering scotch on his breath, "there's one thing missing from that plan imperative to a good time. You know what it is?"

Alaric pretended not to notice the proximity, instead letting out a long-suffering sigh. "No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."

Smirking, Damon draped his arms over Alaric's shoulders languidly. "Look at you, playing it cool. But since I can see through the mask of sarcasm and disinterest to the desperate curiosity underneath, I guess it's only decent of me to tell you. See, what your other evening was missing," he said, his sweet breath brushing across Alaric's face, his lips only inches from Alaric's, "was me."

Before Alaric could fire of what was sure to be a witty, biting retort – trust him, really – Damon sealed their lips together. And just when Alaric got his arms around the smaller man's hips, ready to make the most of this supposedly-fortunate change of plans—

A throat cleared.

Alaric broke the kiss, and Damon let out a curse under his breath before donning a smile and turning around to face the newcomers.

Stefan, Elena, and Bonnie were standing just a few meters away at the entrance to the graveyard, all with various expressions. Stefan looked exasperated, Elena looked a little bit embarrassed, and Bonnie just looked amused.

Damon, on the other hand, looked mildly annoyed.

"Funny, I was just asking Ric where the cock-block cadets had gotten off to. Wasn't I, Ric?"

Alaric put a hand on Damon's shoulder, not quite restrictively, just enough to tell him to tone it back. "Damon, play nice."

Damon glanced back at him, rolling his eyes. "Yes, Mother," he said, before turning back to the others and shrugging. "Spoilsports. All of you. Just…suck the fun right out of everything." He turned back to Alaric. "Are you sure you're not a vampire?"

"A fun-sucking vampire? Really, Damon?"

"Yeah, not my best work. But hey, the scene isn't exactly inspirational."

"Right, it's the scene," said Stefan. "Come on, he's not here. We'll check back in town, see if he's circled back."

Damon arched an eyebrow. "Having a little trouble with your compass there?" At Stefan's dark look, Damon raised his hands innocently. "Hey, relax. It happens to everyone. Well, not me, obviously, but you know – everyone else."

Leaning in towards Elena, Bonnie cupped her hand over her mouth. "I thought you said Mr. Saltzman was a good influence on him," she said.

"Hey, Broom-hilda, we can hear you," Damon said in a mock whisper, and then snorted. "And good influence? This guy? Let me tell you something about this guy. He—"

"Murderous rogue vampire, remember?" Alaric said. "And I still have papers to grade, so if we could hurry this up…" He gestured vaguely, and then he started towards the gate. His way of saying that it was time to go, apparently.

Damon lingered for just a few seconds, staring after Alaric and the others as they retreated. Sighing, he rolled his eyes.

"Spoilsports."