Who: Damon and Haymitch Where: Random Bar When: Early January Why: Doing what they are both so good at. Rating: PG (mild language) Status: Complete
Another Sunday night meant another night in the the bar. Haymitch wasn’t really a football fan, never had been, but it was at least entertaining to sit and watch the people get so worked up and flustered over sports. Not that he was one to talk, he got fairly worked up over hockey but hockey fans were one of a kind (well, perhaps behind soccer fans. He couldn’t remember a time when hockey fans beheaded a ref…). It beat being home alone anyhow so he ordered another beer and told himself he was content to be sitting there.
“Get this guy another one of whatever he’s drinking because he doesn’t have a lick of football gear on.” Haymitch said motioning to the person sitting next to him which just happened to be Damon. “Haymitch,” he said with a shrug as he introduced himself to the stranger he just bought a drink. If he was going to be paying he could at least ask the guy his name.
Damon had stopped by the bar on his way home. Elena was studying late, getting ready for classes to begin again after the holidays. Her work had been pretty neglected when they spent time together, so he was giving her some space. He looked up and grinned when the other man offered to buy him a round. “Bourbon straight,” he said, finishing off the glass he had.
Damon held out a hand, “Damon. What brings you out here this evening?” He wondered if he was one of the dreamers from the network. It was hard not to, especially since they seemed to be everywhere, and the dreams were so prominent in the life of the vampire-to-be. “Nothing like a drink after a hard day of high school history.”
“Life,” Haymitch quipped with a sarcastic grin. “Too bad the damn thing takes too long to kill most of us.” He said half joking and half serious. The dreams in his head had been too much and well, if he was drinking it was easy to forget for a little while longer. Not that the life he lived in was much different, kids still killed kids just not in a sanctioned way. At least that he didn’t have to see in his damn head every night.
“Don’t tell me you’re a teacher,” he said turning on his stool slightly to take a better look at the man beside him as the bartender poured their next round of drinks.
“You got that right,” Damon nodded, absolutely agreeing on both counts. Alcohol gave him sanity many times, or numbed him enough to stay sane. His own life had been a roller coaster. Being a dream vampire just added an extra dose to the mix. Just when things were settling down, his dreams were becoming much more intense.
“The hair is a dead giveaway, isn’t it?” Damon knew that he didn’t look like a typical teacher, although his knowledge of history was amazing. His analysis was equally as brilliant. His lifestyle there was no one else’s concern. “I actually wear a tie on occasion too.” He took another shot, savoring the taste. “What do you do?”
Haymitch nodded as he took a long gulp of his beer. “Yep, definitely the hair. You know when someone comes with their hair standing on end, looking like Medusa they always are teachers.” He poked fun, because it was who he is, but he actually admired people that had the patience and will to work with kids. It certainly wasn’t something he himself possessed. As a matter of fact, there were very few people he did communicate with regularly for that reason.
“Home and building engineer and contractor but in idiot speech, since most in this world seem to fall in that category, your everyday handyman who can fix anything. Your job is a lot harder than mine so cheers to you,” Haymitch joked raising his glass a little bit.
Damon held up his drink. It did take the patience of Jobe for anyone to tolerate high school. He barely made it. He was only in his second year, barely out of college. He had learned to make it interesting though. What saved him was his natural bank of information when it came to the subject matter.
“I can’t bitch too much. I get 13 weeks of paid vacation a year,” he grinned. “It sure isn’t easy, but I don’t know how good I would be in anything else, except maybe modeling. My brother is in that. Taking a few pictures doesn’t seem that rough. It may be a good sideline of income.” He shrugged, not truly sure if he wanted to get into it, but by looks, the vampire-to-be could definitely do it. “I have to make sure my fiance finishes college before she starts working too hard.”
Haymitch raised an eyebrow as he drank another sip of his beer, “Hell, you certainly need it with your job and probably a padded room on the side.” He said lightly unable to help recalling a piece of his own high school days; he had been that wise ass kick that always had a comment. The worse part? He was usually always right but just had a “special” way of phrasing it that made the kids laugh and the teachers roll their eyes. “Probably a good idea, what she studying?”
“No lie there. I never set out to teach, but there are not as many option for a history major,” Damon nodded, taking a long drink. He liked the alcohol a bit too much. He knew it, but he was getting better. “There are museums and historical societies, but I can’t see myself locked in a room doing nothing but research.”
He studied the other man for a moment. “Do you have the dreams?” It would be an odd question for a person who didn’t, but with all that Damon had, it had become almost a necessary question.
Haymitch motioned to the bartender to pour him another round. If they were going to go there he was going to need a few more drinks. As it was he was only starting to feel a slight buzz and to dive into dream world he needed something a little stronger. “I’m one of the lucky ones,” he whipped sarcastically. “Though I think I would classify them more as nightmares than dreams, you?”
“I knew it,” Damon half smiled, one corner of his lips turning up. “It’s the ease of alcohol intake that gives it away.” There were a lot of them, and those who dreamed did tend to lean towards the amber liquid that filled a glass afterward. “Oh yeah, and I’m an asshole,” he shrugged as if it wasn’t a surprise, “I’m also a dream vampire, born in 1840. I think I age well.”
There was something else that was bothering him lately, something that he stubbornly refused to talk about, but it wasn’t important tonight. “Have you gotten anything from the dreams? I like to call them leftovers. In my case, I got fangs. Every day I get that little reminder that my future will involve a new appreciation for Bloody Marys.”
Haymitch looked at him and shook his head reaching for his glass. “Well, darling, you look pretty damn good for being nearly two hundred years old, though I wasn’t aware men thought of such things.” He cracked hoping it sounded a little more like the joke he intended and not just an asshole type comment. Not that it mattered. “I hope you’ve learned to hold your liquor in all that time here on earth.”
Sure he had heard of people getting things from their dreams, just he hadn’t been one of them. Then again what was there really to get from his world? A bloody weapon, a piece of someone’s body or a creepy flower? No thanks, he would rather pass. “Nah, not much to get from that place other than death or someone hacked to pieces. Not exactly the decor I had in mind for my house.”
Damon was known for a sarcastic, dry sense of humor, so that comment was not a problem in the slightest. He simply smiled. “I just wish I actually remembered some of that time. I would have loved to see me in the 60’s as some flower child.” He could imagine himself living that free love lifestyle quite easily. “Let’s just say that if I wasn’t a vampire, I’m sure my liver would have given up by the turn of the century.”
Damon was all too familiar with death in his world, and somehow had managed to not quite grasp the fact that he had caused some of it, or rather, he didn’t let it get to him. It wasn’t quite a reality. Eventually though, he would have to consider himself an actually potential killer. He brushed the idea away quickly. “I think that’s the common thread in most. Why can’t we have those great, sexy dreams of the teenage years? What ever happened to those?”
“I think most people’s would have,” Haymitch said with a laugh recalling his days as a teen. He wasn’t sure he wanted to but now he thought it was mostly good fun. They had never hurt anyone except perhaps themselves and their liver. Life was easier when you’re a kid. He never understood why kids dreamed of being older.
“They musta dried up or something. Shame really…” Haymitch said with a nod and set his glass back down on the bar.
“Yeah. I think if I died and donated my organs, it would end up as a weird science experiment.” He chuckled at the thought of people poking at it, trying to find the secret of his liver’s longevity.
“Ah, those college years must have sapped them all, or given way to reality.” Damon had quite a hedonistic life in college. He had passed his classes, but he had also indulged quite heavily. “I gave up trying to figure out why I am actually turning into a dream creature. I guess immortality has it’s perks. I can wait for the blood diet though. My fiance doesn’t seem too worried about it. Figures that the ladies would find vampires sexy.”
Haymitch couldn't help but roll his eyes, "Hey they dig creatures that sparkle in the sun. I considered covering myself in body glitter and going sun tanning but its too much work." He joked with a laugh. He wasn't quite sure what the fascination with vampires were to be honest.
"Well, let me know how it works for you. I'll be worm food here in another half century."
“No sparkling here, just tall, dark, and bloody,” he laughed. Sparkling was the last thing he needed and honestly, if he sparkled, he would be looking for a way out of this dreaming business. “I think the sparkles would clash with my wardrobe.”
“The last thing we need is more worms, my friend,” he said, clinking his glass against Haymitch’s. “People are friends, not food.”