Damon Salvatore is complicated. (flipstheswitch) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-03-10 01:28:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, damon salvatore, michael |
WHO: Damon and Michael
WHAT: Random meeting
WHERE: Bar
WHEN: Monday, March 10 - Evening
RATING: PG-13 for language
STATUS: Complete
With Elena spending time with Jeremy, Damon was bored. He found himself at the bar, playing a few rounds of darks, while savoring a glass of bourbon straight up. He was actually quite good, although he didn’t play on any regular basis anymore. They had a set in the basement of the fraternity house at UC Irvine, and it was a great way to relieve stress. They also had a few notorious drinking games centered around the dart board.
He moved to the pool table after that, taking on a few of the patrons, who left a few games later. He had just ordered another drink when the other man walked in. He knew Michael’s face from the network. A light smile played over his lips. Things could go very well, or they could go very badly. The guy seemed fairly unreasonable, considering that Damon had stepped out of the situation. Of course, Damon also assumed that the story Michael heard was a pretty skewed side. He kept his eyes on the man, contemplating what to say as he dropped money into the table’s slots. The balls dropped, clustering at the end. Damon dropped them into the rack, rolling them onto the break point, leaving the triangle around them.
He stayed at the end of the table, watching the man move across the room. He wasn’t really in the mood to fight, but it didn’t have to be that way either. However, he wasn’t going to jump in front of the guy and make himself a target. Instead, he chose to wait and see if the man recognized him, and he would take it from there.
Michael noticed the occasional glances long before he realized just who was looking at him. That wasn’t uncommon for him, given that his injuries made his mind decidedly more siv-like than it had ever been he had a hard time remembering faces. It was even harder to remember faces he had seen online but not in person, so it took him several minutes before it dawned on him where he had seen that face before.
A face I would never get tired of punching. That was what he had said the first time he had seen it online and it came back to him now as he was a little over halfway through his beer. Of course Michael didn’t run around hitting people without cause, and while making Samandriel cry might have been a reasonable excuse back around the time it happened, it really wasn’t one now. The ring on his finger and the mark on his soul were reason enough for him not to feel threatened, so as much as he would have liked to punch that face in he knew he wasn’t justified. Punching guys for Samandriel’s sake hadn’t turned out very well for him lately anyway.
Still, he wasn’t wholly comfortable with being stared at. After a little pacing around the bar he did eventually come to stand a few feet away from him, every obviously recognizing him and wanting to talk, even if he did take a long swig of his beer before he spoke. “You got something you want say to me? Or are we just gonna stare at each other all evening?”
Damon tipped his head to the side, “I was considering Hello, but that’s too formal. Hi sounds like we are buddies, and Yo is just no.” His smirk crossed his lips. “If you want, grab a cue. Maybe cracking it over my head isn’t really recommended. They make you pay for that shit here, and honestly, I’d rather just enjoy my drink. You can even break.”
Damon stepped to the side of the table, if Michael chose to take up a cue. He was fairly tall, well built, and striking, with shock blue eyes. He seemed to downplay that a bit, although he was well aware of the draw, especially from women. He was taken though, something that shouldn’t worry Michael in the slightest. “I figured we would cross paths sooner or later anyway. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. Contrary to what might be popular opinion, I have nothing against you at all.”
He picked up his drink, swirling it around in his glass. “I’m sure you probably think I am a world class asshole, but that isn’t necessarily the truth either.” He took a drink, not taking his eyes off the man. He knew how to watch his back, and he wasn’t quite ready to let that guard down.
“No, I think you’re a manipulative bastard with a penchant for emotionally abusive relationships where you get to be the aggressor and yet twist your image right around to be the victim when it suits you because you’ve had a couple of bad dreams.” Michael knocked back the rest of his beer then set the empty bottle down on the other table. “Or at least that’s what I’ve been able to glean so far from what Samandriel has told me and your not-locked posts online.”
He did take the cue, though if he was actually going to play or shove it up Damon’s ass remained to be seen. There was some appeal to making a pre-vampire popsicle, but really more effort than Michael was willing to expend on the man. “Is that popular opinion? That you might have something against me, because, what? Some might see me as your replacement? Hm, sounds like popular opinion has put a lot more thought into this than at least I had.”
But he did end up breaking, he wasn’t as good at using the cue for it’s intended purpose as he was using it to crack skulls, but he wasn’t bad. “To tell you the truth, if you hadn’t upset my angel, I wouldn’t have even noticed you existed.”
Damon’s eyes widened. “I want to know who I was trying to manipulate or who I am emotionally abusing? Now that is reaching a little bit for someone you have never actually met or spoken to.” He shrugged, looking down at the spread on the table. It was a clusterfuck, not really favoring solids or stripes. “I also happen to like my dreams. They keep me entertained, even if my fiance is currently with my brother, but my dream self is about to make a serious move on her. There are a few things I haven’t told people, but they can be surprised.”
He finally settled on solids, taking a shot at the three ball, putting it in the side. “Honestly, whether you were around or not, that was not a situation I was going to stay in. I decided to leave, because in the end, it wasn’t what I wanted, so if that makes me the bad guy, so be it. Things end, and they don’t often end well.” He pocketed the one ball, but ended up in a pack of stripes. He broke the cue ball out and turned the table over to Michael.
“Honestly, if you guys are happy, then I’m not going to say a damn thing about it,” he continued, going back to his drink. “I’m doing the same thing. I had something that was better for me and damn near lost it in that insanity. I’m not doing that again.” He took a large shot and signaled to the waitress to bring another. He hadn’t really been drinking much, but there wasn’t much harm in having a few tonight.
“I don’t care.” Michael said honestly. “Whatever you and Samandriel had isn’t any of my business, at least not until he took it so hard. Though I will point out that talking to me about anything you might have had with him or how you felt for one another brings you a few steps closer to getting impaled on one of these cues and left on the lawn for all to see as a warning. Not that I’m a violent man, but I actually am, the impending archangel isn’t going to help in that respect either so consider it a warning without an expiration date.”
Two stripes in the side but Michael’s next shot wasn’t successful. His eyes, nearly the same vibrant green as the felt on the table, had let him down. Such was life when part of your brain was missing and the rest of it was full of shrapnel. Consistent understanding of spatial relationships had been one of the first things to go. “As for your first questions, I would have thought that was obvious. But bully for you on your dreams, you’re apparently the only person to feel that way.”
Damon laughed and shook his head, accepting the drink from the server. He left her a nice tip. “Look, I don’t really give a shit about angel business, and I’ve never really talked about whatever happened to anyone. If I decided to, you wouldn’t be the first choice. If that makes me look like an asshole as well, I can’t do a damn thing about it. I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t. I’m sure having both sides of the story doesn’t help clear things up.” He raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the table again. “You know him, and how he works. You can figure all that out on your own. It’s still over, and no, I’m not trying to convince myself. It simply is over.”
He had to stretch for the four ball, but he made it look smooth. The next shot was a combo between the two and nine, barely nudging the nine into the side. “I think I’m losing my touch.” He continued on to the next shot. “As far as manipulation goes, that usually means that I want something from the situation. When it comes to Samandriel, I don’t. You do seem pretty intent on keeping it that way, even though I’ve never wanted to go back.” He finally selected the seven, putting that one in the corner. He missed a banking six by inches, handing the table back to Michael. “My concern is that Elena is happy. I have friends, I have a family. I’m not someone you have to get territorial with.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself, mostly because I’ve stated pretty clearly that I don’t care and yet you keep talking like it’s important that I know how you feel. Or are you just desperate to change my opinion of you? I can save you some time, it won’t change. And even if it did it really wouldn’t matter. I don’t expect to see much, or really any of you in the future, especially not around him. Like I said before, he doesn’t want to see you and as protective as I might be of him he’s fully capable of dealing with things himself.” Michael’s turn wasn’t nearly as impressive as the soon-to-be vampire’s, but his game was never pool to begin with.
He sank a couple more but ultimately missed one of the harder shots. He didn’t linger and pout at least. “Good, keep to your woman and your life. I don’t generally make a habit of speaking so nicely to people who have upset him without following it all up with some sort of violent action. I’d like to think I’m turning over a new leaf.” There was almost a smile there, that odd, wry sense of humor bubbling up slightly, but it was very brief.
“You know, there is a reason that I want to take myself outside and kick my own ass. I haven’t said a word about feelings. What I like, and what I don’t, is incredibly different from saying I’m done, and yet you threaten me anyway, also not a thing I really give a shit about, but you understand the dilemma.” He shook his head, laughing again. There was no reason with some people. This group seemed to have lack of reason as a common thread. Damon was often accused of being cold, but Samandriel knew a few other things, yet it was just as over as it was a minute ago.
Damon cleaned the rest of the solids, putting some effort into it this time. This guy made him want to give him the real story about what he actually thought of the crazy things they called relationships, and how playing for second wasn’t what Damon was about, but he didn’t figure it would matter. Michael could be smug all he wanted, and at the end of the day, his own lover would never truly be his. “I’m sure I should feel special,” he said, flashing the smirk, “but I really just wanted someone to come play a round. Eight in the left corner.” The cue ball cracked into the 8, stopping on impact as the eight made it to the target. “We had a table at my parents’ house.”
“Of course I’m threatening you, I would be threatening you even if you were wholly apologetic. But like you said, you don’t give a shit, so why would I stop? Maybe I enjoy it. Maybe it’s what is keeping me from seeing how many times I can hit you until I get bored.” He generally tended to do that with most people who he knew had slept with Samandriel that wasn’t in in frequent contact with him. It likely spoke to Michael’s frustrations at having to share the angel but he wasn’t going to admit to that, not even to Samandriel if he asked. It wasn’t at all healthy and could lead to real problems if Michael wasn’t careful, but Michael didn’t care.
“Congratulations.” It was largely indifferent but mostly genuine. The guy had played well, he deserved to win and Michael wasn’t nearly petty enough to be annoyed about a game he didn’t care much for either way. He returned the cue and went back to pick up his empty bottle. He didn’t believe in leaving messes, which was likely good as it kept him smashing the bottle and jamming it into Damon’s squishy soft tissues. He knew from experience that blood and glass weren’t any fun to clean up.
Damon leaned the cue against the rack with a shrug. The vampire-to-be had both strength and confidence in the way he carried himself. He wasn’t completely fearless, but those were not issues in this conversation. “I’m not one of those people who remains stuck in the past. If something doesn’t work, I move on.” He fished his phone out of his pocket. He flipped to a picture of he and Elena sitting on a bench making a stupid face at the camera in one of Elena’s selfies. “That is my girl, not that you asked. She loves me a hell of a lot more than I deserve. I hurt her, and she never deserved that. That is my regret. She is everything I want, and always was. She deserves 100 percent, not someone who is splitting their time between her and someone else, and I have a lot of shit to make up for. That is what I am about. The rest isn’t relevant.”
He put the phone in his pocket and reclaimed his glass, finishing it off. “Whether you feel like hitting me or not, it doesn’t change a thing. You can hit me, but it will heal, and I won’t be as pretty for a week, but she’ll make sure I’m spoiled rotten. You will still go home, and do what you do.” In his own way, Damon could imagine what Michael truly thought of the situation. Samandriel never made it a secret that Lucifer was his beyond all others. It was a little sick and twisted, allowing your lover to have as many other loves as possible. Damon would still rearrange Tom Sawyers face if given a chance. Damon was first though, when it came to Elena. He was the one. Michael would only ever be second, and there would be others. Damon considered himself smart enough to walk away, to not buy into such a load of shit served on a tasty cracker.
“Look, I really hope you guys do well, and work out whatever you got going on,” he said instead. “I mean that. I’m not the enemy.” He finished the drink in his glass and set it on the bar, debating one more. “You know, we have a few things in common.” One side of his lips curled up and he laughed. It sounded ridiculous, but Samandriel did seem to have a type.
“Now that I might actually hit you for saying.” With Michael’s expression it was probably hard to tell if he was joking or not, generally it was safer to assume he wasn’t though honestly he wasn’t nearly as intensely violent as he was making himself out to be in front of Damon. In fact he had quite impressive self-control for a man who spent years in a war killing everything that moved that didn’t have friendly colors.
Michael felt genuinely sorry for the girl on his phone but he didn’t say it. He knew even less about their relationship than he had known about his and Samandriel’s, so he couldn’t put a finger on exactly why beyond the fact that he didn’t like Damon. But he did feel like a girl like that probably could do and deserved better.
But a genuinely amused smile did come to his lips the more he thought of the creature comparing himself to him. He actually found himself curious and was willing to endure a little more of his company to hear his explanation. “Alright, you have my attention. After knowing me for little less than an hour what do you think we have in common?”
Damon arched a dark brow with a quick, mock pout. He really didn’t get all the ridiculous threats, but they weren’t getting the reaction the man thought they should, or so he imagined because they kept coming. It was probably better to blow it off rather than entertain it. “I’m shocked you haven’t picked it up yet. Strength, definitely. There is a willingness to fight, or to do things on full tilt, damn the consequences. I’m sure you know what I mean.” The smile didn’t fade. “You know that there are a lot more layers about me than you want to see, and I’m pretty sure the same could be said for you.” They were definitely alphas, and so was Lucifer, if Damon wanted to throw him into the mix.
He signaled the waitress for one more round. She delivered him a beer instead, earning a frown in return. He still tipped her. “I got a bigger question for you though. You know I’m not in the way of your relationship, but why are you set on hating me?” He settle into his last drink, “Not that it changes a damn thing, by the way. I don’t actually care a whole lot one way or another, but I find it curious. Usually if I am going to hate someone, I like having a reason.”
“That’s all very generic.” Michael pointed out. It wasn’t wholly wrong, but acceptable for the very short time they had been speaking to one another. He hadn’t been expecting any in-depth analysis anyway. Damon likely thought he was one of those intuitively perceptive types, the ones who liked to think they would walk into a room and read every single one of the people who happened to be there. Michael himself preferred to judge by actions.
“And that really isn’t a bigger question.” he pointed out, spinning the spinner ring on his left hand, the very same ring Samandriel had given him the night he had found the angel openly weeping over the text exchange he had with Damon. “It’s a very small question actually. And don’t flatter yourself to assume that you could have ever been in the way of my relationship. The simple answer is I have my reasons. If that wasn’t what you wanted to hear,” he shrugged. “You’re just going to have to get used to disappointment.”
“What did you expect? That we both like unicorns and puppies and raindrops.” Damon rolled his eyes. He actually was fairly perceptive, but it was required in his profession. He had to pick out his problem students on the first day, get them intermixed with the ones he thought would do well, and then the semester would flow smoothly. His judgements were a lot different.
Damon watched him, listened to the tone, feigned nonchalance. “Why do you think I want to hear anything in particular? Please. I know your reasons have everything to do with that night no matter how unfounded, or whatever happened in the past, maybe a nice combo of both. In truth, I was curious if you had something better, or if you were going to continue to be defensive over someone who doesn’t care to interfere with your relationship and never has. Even worse is that you know I’m not entirely awful, and that is irritating as fuck for you. It’s just easier to say I’m a dick. I know how that goes. I’ve been there. It isn’t pretty, but I’m not going to get all bunched up about it either. My point is that it’s ridiculously unnecessary when I’m telling you that I hope you two are happy together.”
That earned another smile from Michael, “I think you overestimate your ability to be irritating, which is something I never thought I would have to say to you. But let’s be honest, hm? You imagine that I actually hate you, but I don’t. I have no current feelings about you intense enough to be classified as anything even close to hate. You’re not worth wasting that sort of energy on. And I have better things to do than to let you live rent free inside my head. I don’t like you, and I’m not going to like you, and you can take that as personal as you like because the way I feel about you actually has nothing to do with you.” he stopped fiddling with his ring and slipped his hands into his pockets.
“As for not thinking you’re entirely awful, well, I’m going to have to disappoint you there too. But don’t worry, my personal feelings are just that, mine and personal. Not that you have any fans among the angels who would be upset if I decided to share. But my lack of smiling civility seems to have bothered you, which I would apologize for if I were at all concerned about your displeasure, but clearly I’m not.”
He clapped his hands together, “And this has been… Something. If there’s nothing else, such as any last ditch attempts you want to throw at me to change my mind about you, because my not having positive feelings about you bothers you do much, then I think I’m going to go. It seems like Lux is the place to be tonight and here I am wasting my time here.”
Damon put his fingers to his temple, rubbing it, trying to keep the million sarcastic thoughts at bay. This guy was a joke, and needed to clean some wax out of his ears apparently. “Sure, honesty. Let’s try this again. From the top. I don’t give a flying fuck if you like me, I don’t give a flying fuck if the angels like me, and I give even less of a fuck about those reasons that I merely asked for my own entertainment and nothing more. I was getting bored.”
He gave the angel-to-be another amused grin. “Your lack of civility is more like a stick rammed up there pretty good, and a severe lack of any humor, and I do kind of feel bad for you for a few things, but we will save them for another time. Go enjoy life. Get rid of the damn freeloaders in your head. They are pieces of shit.” He took the bottle, walking back towards a chair that held his jacket. That guy made Jeremy look like fun, and that was saying a lot. He did feel bad for the guy though, still. Second was not a great position, and it never would get better, unless he did what Damon did and got out, or took other drastic measures.