A/N: Thank you to everyone who's been reviewing. I'm a total review whore, and it really makes my day reading what you all think about this little experiment of mine. =D
Still no real plot here, but I'm having so much fun with Damon and Jeremy. They're both so complex. Might try something from Jeremy's POV next, since we've spent a lot of time in Damon's head thus far.
Oooh, also because I haven't done this yet: I don't own any of this. I just manipulate these fictional characters for fun.
Also, no spoilers in this one either (I don't think…)
Damon wasn't sure when being alone had started to bother him. Vampires weren't supposed to be afraid of anything, especially not quiet, empty houses. He had spent his entire life alone, practically, either avoiding or stalking Stefan, depending on the decade, but somewhere between moving into the boarding house with his brother and now, he'd gotten accustomed to companionship and noise (as much noise as a vampire made, anyway) and something other than deafening quiet.
Damon flipped the switch on the stupid iPod docking system Stefan had gotten him for Christmas. Stefan had been totally sucked into the Cult of Apple, enticed by shiny metal and the ability to carry his entire music library in his pocket. And Damon could sort of see the appeal, but he missed vinyl. You hadn't heard anything until you'd heard it on vinyl.
Damon just let his songs shuffle, but it wasn't long before he was tuning them out, focused solely on the empty house. Occasionally The Rolling Stones or The Who or some Dylan or Springsteen song would jar into his consciousness, and for a moment he would remember how good music used to be, but it wouldn't be long before he was using his entirely-too-effective hearing to listen to a mouse chewing on a shoe box in Stefan's closet and the ticking of the grandfather clock upstairs in the hallway.
It wasn't that he was afraid. He knew he could take anything that tried to come through the front door (it wasn't a full moon, so he didn't need to worry about the werewolves). It was more…anxiety. The quiet made him tense and jumpy, and when the mouse scuttled away, probably back into the wall, Damon nearly spilled his drink. He shuddered to think what would happen when the clock chimed on the hour.
His iPhone (another of Stefan's purchases—Damon wondered idly if his brother had a shopping addiction) sat on the arm of the couch, and Damon glanced down at the screen every other minute or so. It would be so easy. All he had to do was scroll through his recent calls and tap Jeremy's number. Jeremy probably wouldn't even mock him about it. He'd shrug, say okay, hang up and show up at the boarding house within fifteen minutes. But it was the principle of the thing. Damon didn't need to see Jeremy. He wasn't hungry, he wasn't particularly horny (not that it had ever mattered to Jeremy—he was a teenage boy, after all), and it wasn't like Jeremy had any other reason to come over besides sex.
Damon picked up his phone and stared at it for a moment, before slipping it into his pocket and getting to his feet. It was a Friday night and he wasn't interested in spending it sitting in his living room. Stefan was out pretending to be a normal teenager with Elena, so Damon figured he could go pretend to be a normal twenty-one-year-old and hang out in a bar. It had nothing to do with the empty house.
As he'd expected, the Grill was packed. It was loud, but once he was seated at the bar with his usual scotch, it was easy to let the constant chatter and whatever awful music was pumping through the speakers settle into a low drone. He didn't feel the need to make conversation with anyone and everyone seemed content to leave him alone. He could hear Vampire Barbie laughing somewhere across the room, probably surrounded by her usual harem of groupies and lackeys. Werewolf Tyler was playing pool with Oblivious Matt, and Damon wondered if Matt was getting any closer to not being so oblivious. He doubted it. He was fairly certain the Aw-shucks All-American Boy Next Door was just as stupid as he looked.
Damon wasn't looking for Jeremy. He didn't need to. It only took him one glance when he'd come through the door to determine that the younger Gilbert was not present. Elena and Stefan were on a double date with Bonnie and her Boy-Witch Wonder, and Alaric and Jenna were huddled together in one of the booths, so Damon would put money on the fact that Jeremy was at home with his sketchbook or his computer.
He wondered if Jeremy was lonely; if nights like this, when the majority of his peers were out partying or just hanging out and Jeremy was home alone, bothered him. Of course, Damon already knew the answer to that. If Jeremy was lonely tonight, he would have shown up at the boarding house hours ago. He wasn't shy about admitting when he wanted to see Damon (or maybe just wanted to see someone) and tonight wasn't one of those nights.
Damon sighed, frustrated. Being here, surrounded by people and noise, didn't make any difference. He was still alone and it shouldn't bother him, but it did.
Damon stood on the Gilberts' porch, feeling stupid and staring at the doorbell like he was expecting it to ring itself. After five minutes, he finally reached out and pressed it, part of him hoping Jeremy was already asleep or wearing headphones or temporarily deaf.
Jeremy was none of those things. He answered the door in his pajamas, carrying a bowl of cereal and cocked his head to the side curiously upon seeing Damon on the porch.
"Why did you ring the bell?" Jeremy frowned.
"Because I wasn't breathing loud enough out here for you to hear me." Damon said sarcastically.
Jeremy rolled his eyes. "You could have just walked in. I don't care."
Damon followed Jeremy into the house. "You're home alone in a town with more than it's fair share of monsters and you don't lock your doors?"
Jeremy shot him a don't be stupid look. "It isn't the full moon, the warlocks don't seem to have anything against us at the moment and all the vampires out there except you and Stefan and Caroline need an invitation. Why?" Jeremy smirked. "Are you worried about me?"
"No." It came out of his mouth too quickly. He realized too late that it was probably a question better left without an answer, considering even his negative response had given far too much away.
Jeremy's lips twitched in amusement and he shoved a spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth. Damon followed him into the den, where the TV was on. Jeremy settled on the couch and Damon stood for a long moment, uncertain. Jeremy laughed and reached out to grab Damon's hand, tugging him down onto the leather couch.
Damon sat stiffly—he didn't know how to interact with Jeremy here, in his house, without sex as a guideline. Because Damon was pretty sure sex wasn't on offer tonight. Jeremy was still inhaling his cereal like he thought it was going to run away, and he was laughing along with the movie, and it was almost like Damon wasn't there. Then, without warning, Jeremy set the empty cereal bowl on the coffee table, and snuggled against Damon's side, dropping his head to rest on Damon's shoulder. Damon relaxed and after a moment's hesitation, he snaked his arm around Jeremy's waist.
The movie was especially stupid—Damon missed the screwball comedies of the 1930s. He almost suggested he and Jeremy watch His Girl Friday or The Philadelphia Story or even Some Like It Hot the next time they did this, before he remembered that this was just a fluke, not something they actually did.