Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.
Hey everyone! If you're still interested, here's the first chapter of the long-overdue sequel to my TVD/Originals crossover fic "Wait for Me to Come Home." Sorry it took me so long to get around to writing it. :/
Like the original story, this one is set post-TVD 5x22/TO 1x22 and then goes its own way from there.
Rated M for language and future smutty goodness.
I hope you enjoy it. Reviews are always appreciated! ;)
Chapter One
"This is not what I had in mind for our hey-I-just-came-back-from-the-dead-let's-have-sex-until-the-world-ends honeymoon," Damon groused, eyeing the hotel through the bug-splattered windshield. "It went much differently in my head."
"Damon," Elena hissed, all pink cheeks and fiery indignation. "We're not the only ones in this car."
Alaric's roar of laughter erupted from the back seat, followed by Jeremy's pained groan and Bonnie's sigh and eye roll combo.
"Don't get me wrong. New Orleans is nice and all, great even, but it's the company we'll be keeping that's making me start to itch. How am I supposed to enjoy all the hedonistic pleasures I had planned when he'll be breathing down our necks?" Damon continued, blatantly ignoring Elena's scolding.
"If you don't zip it, a Klaus-induced rash is going to be the least of your problems," she muttered, unbuckling her seatbelt when a valet appeared and stood beside the SUV, patiently waiting for them to get out.
This time, Jeremy's laughter rivaled Alaric's, and Bonnie grumbled something about a silencing spell before opening her door and tugging her still-chuckling boyfriend from the car.
The others joined them and started pulling their luggage from the vehicle. Bonnie took particular delight in piling bag after bag into Damon's arms until even his signature smirk was hidden from view. "I'm not a pack horse, Bon," came his muffled gripe from behind Elena's LV duffel.
"Huh. Could've fooled me," she said with a smile. "I think you can handle it."
Damon snarled a few choice words and unceremoniously dumped a couple of bags on the ground. Then he handed the rest to Ric so he could fish the keys out of his pocket and hand them to the hovering valet.
He was in the process of yanking them out of his too-tight (even tighter since he'd let his lecherous thoughts run wild) jeans when a hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked up to discover the valet grinning in a suspiciously vacant way.
"Damon Salvatore?" the guy asked. He couldn't've been more than nineteen or twenty. He seemed like the kind of kid who'd applied for the job just to have a chance to raise hell in people's Jags and Maseratis.
"Yeah, that's me. Here're the keys. It's a rental, so knock yourself out." He dangled them in front of the guy, but the valet didn't make any move to take them. "Hellooo?"
"I'm afraid there's been a change of plans, Mr. Salvatore. A Mr. Klaus Mikaelson has informed us that you'll be staying at his compound for the duration of your visit, so your reservation here has been cancelled." The kid's loopy grin stayed in place as he knelt to collect the bags Damon had dropped. "Allow me to help you repack these. Mr. Mikaelson is expecting you and instructs that you shouldn't delay a minute longer."
"Fuck my life," Damon spat. He turned to the group assembled around him, all of them watching the valet as he happily stuffed their shit back into the SUV. "Can someone tell me why we haven't found a way to put that bastard permanently in the ground? Anyone?"
Alaric cleared his throat and opened his mouth to respond, but Damon held up a hand. "Yeah, yeah. He goes, we go." He glanced at Bonnie instead. "Witchy, your next mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find a way to get rid of Klaus's ass without taking the rest of his sire line with him."
She scowled at him, but then her expression softened, her lips twitching with a hint of a smile. "This isn't Mission: Impossible, Damon."
"Might as well be." Elena sidled up to him, and he tucked his arm around her while they waited for the rest of the luggage to be repacked. "I have a bad feeling about this," he murmured into her hair, pressing a kiss there.
"Me, too. It's never easy, is it?" she asked in a weary voice.
"Not usually."
The valet finally finished his task and gave everyone a polite little wave. "Have a pleasant stay in The Big Easy!" he called.
"More like The Big Shitstorm," Jeremy deadpanned as he and Bonnie shared a concerned look.
"You're not wrong, Little Gilbert. You're not wrong." Damon led Elena over to the front passenger-side door and opened it for her. After she got in, he realized he didn't know where the hell Klaus was hanging his hat these days. "Hey, kid," he hollered. "What's the address?"
The valet rattled off a location in the French Quarter, and Damon nodded, hopping into the driver's seat. He turned the key in the ignition and the vehicle rumbled to life, almost drowning out the sound of Alaric's complaints from the back seat.
"Why does Elena always get shotgun?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably and trying not to elbow Bonnie, who was lodged between him and Jeremy.
"Cause she's so much nicer to look at than you are," Damon explained, putting the SUV into drive and easing out of the parking lot.
"Asshole."
"Love you, too, Ric."
###
As it turned out, Klaus's new digs were . . . something. The "compound"—as the valet had referred to it—had a gated entrance that was opened by a random vamp who looked like he was allergic to so much as the idea of joy. He grunted what sounded like either "follow me" or "fuck off"; Damon wasn't sure.
Elena's fingers threaded their way through his, and they walked hand in hand into a spacious courtyard where a stairway led to the upper floors. Damon spotted a few more goons, or bodyguards, or whatever Klaus called them milling around and cautiously eyeing the newcomers. He had a strong urge to kill a couple of the fuckers as a house-warming present, but their host's smarmy accent drifted through the air, distracting him from his violent thoughts.
"Well, if it isn't the Mystic Falls contingent," Klaus announced from where he stood in one of the arched entryways surrounding the courtyard. "I see my message was received in good order." Dressed in his usual Henley and a pair of dark jeans, he appeared to be the same cocky, ruthless, indestructible vampire they'd always known.
Or maybe not. Damon studied him closer, noticing lines of fatigue around Klaus's eyes. There was also an added paleness to his skin that suggested he hadn't been feeding well or as often as he should.
"You're a real killjoy, y'know that? I'm supposed to be partaking in some R&R with my girl, not catering to your psychotic whims," Damon challenged, bypassing the traditional friendly greeting.
Klaus sauntered over, stopping in front of him and Elena and boldly picking a piece of lint off Damon's shirt. "I see death hasn't changed your spots, old chum, and you can thank your girl for this impromptu visit. If she hadn't made such an egregious error while trying to resurrect you and the lovely Bonnie," he paused to wink at the resident witch, "you wouldn't be here."
Elena's grip tightened, and Damon rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a soothing motion. "So, do we get the grand tour, or . . . ?"
"You'll be shown to your rooms in a moment. It would be rude of me not to greet your other companions." He nodded at a grim-faced Jeremy, and his eyes widened at the sight of Alaric. "Interesting choices. Apparently, you and Bonnie weren't the only ones to rise from the ashes."
"Surprise," Ric muttered with a dark grin. Damon had never been happier with his BFF's Original vamp status. The former history teacher provided an extra layer of protection they needed now more than ever.
"I can't help but notice a few conspicuous absences," Klaus continued. "Where are your brother and the incomparable Ms. Forbes?" he inquired.
"They're keeping the home fires burning," Damon explained. "Plus, I have to dictate my will to Stefan tonight in case you decide to redecorate your new abode with my body parts. He sends his love though," he added with a saucy wink.
Klaus threw back his head, a laugh ripping out of him that made Elijah appear at the top of the grand staircase. "How I've missed your sarcastic little barbs," Klaus said when his laughter had faded to a more controlled chuckle. "Some of the rooms could use a fresh coat of paint, and I'm quite partial to the color red, so it's good to know your blood is available should I have need of it."
"Knock it off, Klaus," Elena growled.
"I suppose laughter is preferable to bloodshed. The paint job can wait, brother," Elijah interrupted, offering his hand to each of them in turn and sharing a meaningful look with Elena that wasn't lost on Damon. He vividly recalled his vision of the two of them meeting when Elena had come to New Orleans desperately seeking a witch to help her with her dangerous plan.
"Always spoiling my fun," Klaus grumbled at his brother. "If you're done playing peacekeeper, why don't you escort them to their rooms? Give them a chance to freshen up before dinner."
There was a gleam in the bastard's eye that made Damon want to throttle him on the spot, but he'd have to go through Elijah to do it. Quelling the urge, he gestured for Elijah to lead the way. "Perfect. We could use a little downtime before we have to suffer through another Mikaelson family dinner. Been there, done that. Not the most pleasant experience in the world."
Klaus's smirk disappeared, his jovial mood evaporating like rain in the desert. Elijah, ever the mediator, placed a hand on his brother's chest, gave a sharp nod, and then turned to address Damon and company.
"If you'll kindly follow me, I'll show you where you'll be staying for the duration of your visit. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep the snide remarks to a minimum," he added, glancing pointedly at Damon, who just shrugged and rolled his eyes.
"Fine, whatever. After you," he muttered, offering Elijah a mock bow while Elena squeezed his hand in warning.
"I know this is extremely difficult for you," she whispered, "but try to behave. They don't need any other reasons to want us dead."
"You mean in addition to the 983 reasons they already have?" he whispered back, pleased when he noticed her lips curling into a small smile.
"Mmhmm."
"Gotcha."
###
Elijah led them to a block of three rooms—one for Alaric, one for Damon and Elena, and one for Bonnie and Jeremy. Before leaving them to their own devices, Elijah laid down the ground rules.
"No one will bother you as long as you conduct yourselves in an appropriate manner." His gaze again landed on Damon. "I must strongly advise against leaving the premises. While you are not prisoners here, the Quarter is unsafe for vampires. Until that situation is remedied, it's best if you stay put. Anything you require will be provided for you; you need only ask. Any questions?"
Damon started to say something, but Elena slapped her hand over his mouth. "I think we're good for now. Thank you, Elijah."
Elijah graced her with a rare smile. "Very well. Dinner will be served in an hour. It would be in your best interests not to be late."
After the elder Mikaelson had departed, Damon peeled Elena's fingers off his face and turned to her with a frown. "What was that all about?"
"I was saving you from yourself," she pointed out as she explored the room they'd been given, stopping in front of the bed to run her hands over the plush duvet.
"What if I had a legit question?"
"Did you?"
"No."
"That's what I thought." She walked over to him and cupped his cheek. "I know it's hard, but please don't start shit with them. Getting you back wasn't easy. I'm not going to lose you again because you decide to make fun of Elijah's tie and he tears out your heart."
Damon sighed, dragging it out in long-suffering, dramatic fashion. "I guess I'll have to be good. The last thing I want is to be away from you."
He leaned down, brushing his mouth over hers once, twice, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she opened for him. He pressed her back against the wall as he deepened the kiss, coaxing a soft moan from Elena. Her fingers were fiddling with the button on his jeans, and his hand had just slipped under the hem of her blouse when they were interrupted by a deliberate-sounding cough.
"Jeez, guys. We just got here. Save it for later, would you?" Bonnie said, stepping inside the room and closing the door behind her.
Damon reluctantly broke the kiss but didn't move away from Elena. Instead, he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes for a moment. "Bon-Bon, you have the absolute worst timing. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"Just be grateful it's me and not Klaus or one of his cronies," she pointed out. Moving closer, she dropped her voice to a whisper. "Listen, we need to talk. Not now, but maybe after dinner."
"What's up?" Elena asked, worry evident in her tone.
Bonnie froze and looked around as if she was trying to detect eavesdroppers. Damon took the hint and came to her aid. "There's no one around except Jeremy and Ric, and they're in their rooms," he confirmed. "Jeremy's pacing, and Alaric's . . . guzzling booze. Attaboy, Ric," he added with a grin.
She nodded in relief. "Good. It's about what I saw when Elijah shook my hand earlier," she explained in a rush.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway and she turned to stare at the door, her heartbeat pounding in Damon's ears. "Relax, it's only your boyfriend," he muttered.
Jeremy knocked, calling Bonnie's name. "You in there?"
"Be right out," she answered. "Later," she whispered to Damon and Elena, and then she made a hasty exit, leaving them alone again.
"Well, that was interesting. What dirty little secret is Elijah hiding, or not hiding, I wonder," Damon murmured, nuzzling Elena's throat.
She tipped her head back, giving him better access. "I'm almost afraid to ask."
"Mmm," he hummed, his lips tracing the path of her throbbing vein and placing kisses there along the way. "How quickly do you think Klaus will murder us if we blow off his dinner invite and make our own fun?"
"Quicker than you can say 'bourbon,'" she guessed, clutching at his shoulders when he gently bit down, marking a spot he intended to revisit later in the evening.
"Figures," he growled. "Let's get this over with then, shall we? The sooner we grace him with our presence, the sooner I can tumble you into bed."
"Sounds like a plan," Elena agreed, her breath hitching on the last word thanks to Damon's wandering fingers. "A really, really good one."