For diva311
By Cathyrn.
The clear glass of the little bottle which held the ancient amber colored liquid was clear. Or as clear as a 150 year old bottle of alcohol could be, in spite of the layers of dust, glass that was yellowed with age, and coated with filmy grime. As the bottle sloshed from side to side the contents within moved like an animate creature trying to crawl out of the bottle.
The vampire rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful as he studied the bottle intently, meticulously looking it over. It looked unlike any schnapps, amaretto, or old brandy he had ever known. He couldn't tell if the liquid was discolored or if it were the original color the creator had intended. Curled into the long, narrow neck of the bottle a vapor had collected, which dissipated the second the bottle was uncorked.
After the bartender had poured him an even shot of the liquid, he lifted the glass up to the light, and marveled over the intricacies of the darker lines, ones that were almost black, moving through the golden fluid. As he held the shot glass aloft, a tiny splash of alcohol leaked over the rim, and touched his fingertips and made them tingle. In fact, just the tiniest whiff of the stuff made his eyes water.
As he was pondering the greater meaning of this, he did not miss the smug smile on the face of the bartender. Vengful pride flowed through his veins; he was a vampire and no alcohol related intoxicant had ever gotten the better of him, and never would. No matter how much this pig of a bartender liked to brag. Those dark, piggy, and smarmy eyes stared him down and dared him to drink.
"And you drank it." Elena growled cutting him off mid reverie.
"Yes, my dearest Elena, I did." Damon snapped. He had suddenly felt very bold that night, and he had kicked back the shot like a trained alcoholic. And a second later it had knocked him off his barstool. Then the rest of his evening was dark and sketchy.
"So," Elena drawled looking very angry and unimpressed. "That is your explanation as to why you were seen rolling around naked in the snow on my front lawn?"
"Si, signora." Damon bowed grandly, and narrowly dodged the punch Elena aimed at his head.
"Is it also the reason," Elena demanded, folding her arms in an attempt to prevent any further thrown punches, as her foot started tapping to an irate rhythm. "Why you are standing here in broad daylight, on my front porch, in front of all of the neighbors, still naked, two days later?"
"And I suppose you have a better excuse for why your beloved husband is out here with me, equally naked, as in without a stitch of clothing on, as well?" Damon inquired innocently. "Especially since he consumed no alchohal on that night?"
"...no..." Elena glowered at her husband, eyes shooting her famous flames of wrath that Stefan was known to run from whenever he forgot to do random household chores, like taking out the garbage.
As Stefan huddled behind his brother, and tried to will himself into invisibility, or death, whichever one came first, a breeze wafted over their equally naked bodies as Damon and Elena regarded one another in solemn silence.
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