Sarcastic doctor, lover of humanity, big fat cheater and proud of it. (Also home to a teenage version of Meredith - a bit more mouthy than her adult counterpart but at her core she is the beginnings of who Meredith will become)
It couldn’t really be a surprise if he went to visit Meredith in the hospital and asked for her key. And since she hadn’t conveniently given him one yet, Damon was left with no choice, really. He had to break in. No jury in the world would convict him! Not a single one.
Because he’d compel them all not to.
He snickered, as he jimmied the lock (on the one hand, it was disconcertingly easy; on the other hand, he’d spent a good long time learning the art of lockpicking in the sixties. It had helped with the occasional panic attacks when the memories started to creep in; humanity or not, Damon didn’t like the feeling that he might be trapped again), and smirked as the door opened.
Wow. Now he knew why she hadn’t given him a key. This was just… no. There were boxes. Not yet unpacked. Only two, but still. And the vacuuming was rudimentary at best.
(Perhaps to the untrained eye it was livable, but to Damon? No.)
He couldn’t cook in all this mess, so he spent a couple of hours tidying up, vacuuming, washing the floors, scrubbing the kitchen until it complained loudly. Much better.
Still plenty of time to do everything right, so he started with fresh tomatoes, plunging them into boiling water to peel them. Chopped basil and spinach fresh, sliced prosciutto off the bone. One of his mother’s favorite recipes, carefully transcribed by hand in his own inimitable swirling handwriting. Garlic, and good quality olive oil, all cooking up at just the right speed in a carefully heated pan.
It seemed sort of distantly funny that he’d chickened out that first night and ordered pizza. She was going to love this.
She tired and feeling the need to crawl right under her covers to the bottom of her bed.
Scratch that —- horrible no good day (she might take a bottle of wine with her).
Meredith left without preamble. No goodbyes or good luck holding down the fort. She just left, still dressed in her scrubs (she’d shower after the wine). Most days she didn’t mind the walk home. It gave her a chance to unwind, de-stress so that by the way she stuck her key in the lock she wasn’t Doctor Fell. She was simply Meredith. However, as she stomped (not really but she felt like it) toward home she didn’t feel that same sense of transition.
Funny, because she wasn’t quite sure what had set her off in the first place?
Tomorrow was a new day, she reminded herself. This too shall pass. Or it better —— because being irritable wasn’t exactly high on her favorite things to do.
She stopped just inside the doors of her building, checked her mail (nothing but junk) and then headed up the stairs. She liked her place. It was a bit on the small side (or maybe she just had too much scattered around with no discernible sense of order) but there was comfort to be found within those four walls. So she opened the door expecting just that.
And stopped short.
This was alien place. Wait, no this was her apartment. It just didn’t look like it. Her eyes scanned the immediate area looking for bits and pieces of that familiarity that she was seeking. They were there, under a layer of cleaner or organized into a neat pile.
It didn’t feel like home.
Meredith dropped her bag with a heavy thud onto the floor. How in the hell? She might have ventured in further but a noise stopped her. A rustling in the kitchen. Her body tensed and it was an immediate reaction to grab the nearest object (an umbrella she always seemed to forget just when she needed it). One thing was for certain: Meredith Fell was only getting bitten once in her lifetime.
Perhaps it was a tad bit foolish to move into the heart of her apartment (a foreign squeaky clean land) with an umbrella raised, but she had already established that this was not a day to be rational. She rounded the corner and found him. Damon. Cooking.
She wondered what her face looked like as she dropped the umbrella in much the same fashion as her bag.
"Damon, what the hell are you doing?”
Thanks to everyone who sent in a meme symbol. Unfortunately /random? refuses to acknowledge that I actually write anything of substance on this blog so I give up.
It did however direct me to the fanart where Stefan talks about sore nipples like 5 times.
PLOT 2: REINCARNATION
Muse A and Muse B were once lovers, long ago. Through circumstance, they were torn apart and Muse B died. Now, Muse A is forced to walk alone on the Earth for eternity, remembering their lover as they once were, until one day, hundreds of years later, they see Muse B.
Muse B is different because of the times and has no recollection of it, because they are not the original, but a reincarnation of that person. They could look a little different, act a little different, but everything else is the same. Muse A knows that Muse B is their lover and will do anything to stay with them.
This is my idea with the help of fellow roleplayer faithfulhound based off The Mummy. You may use but please DO NOT take credit as your own.