Damon Salvatore (salvatoresin) wrote,
Damon Salvatore

Monsters at the Ball - For crossroadskink

Damon did clean up nicely, when he wanted to.  As much as he clung his his jeans and black leather jacket like a uniform most of the time, suits did do wonderful things for his figure.  Made those pale blue eyes even more striking, accented his shoulders and his waist and made him look almost respectable, which was admittedly a dangerous proposition.  Candlelights twinkled on almost every surface, flickered in the light summer breeze as outdated classical music played.  He wondered if they actually thought that the highschool crowd would dance to that, or if that was part of the point.

With the little meeting of the Founder's Council over, in which they conspired against vampires in the backroom, Damon slid up to the bar.  He slipped onto a stool and ordered himself a scotch with a smile and a glint in his eyes.  Really, he wasn't sure that the irony of the situation would ever get old.  Or charming his way into the hearts of everyone on the council as a past time, for that matter.  He was, for the moment at least, pointedly ignoring Elena and his brother and their doe-eyed lovebird looks.  He'd harassed them earlier, and would no doubt be unable to resist causing some sort of trouble before the party was over, but for now a glass of good scotch was certainly in order.

The Lockwoods spared no expense, and Damon was all about indulgence.  
Tags: au, crossover, crowley/damon, rp, spn
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Crowley hadn't been to Mystic Falls in quite some time. Why was he here now? As was often the case, he had several reasons. The last time he'd been here, the Salvatore brothers had still been very human. Crowley had been in town for a deal, unsurprisingly, and had lingered a little while after it was finished to soak up some local color, because as it happened there was a good handful of rather interesting locals. Back then, Damon and Stefan had not been on his list of reasons to stick around because they'd been far too busy chasing the same skirt, but a hundred and fifty years changed a lot of things.

Stefan was still chasing women from the looks of things. Rather, just one. Boring. Damon on the other hand had blossomed into quite the interesting individual, from what he knew. He'd heard about them both, rumors mostly about Damon and his chaotic exploits, but there were some about Stefan as well, about his chosen lifestyle. It was a shame that he was such a goody-two-shoes.

Crowley had been sitting at the bar for a while, nursing his own scotch and watching the crowd.

He was here for Damon.

When he came up to the bar, Crowley glanced sideways at him, fingertips toying with the edge of his glass. The years had been kind. He looked anything but the same as he did before he'd turned, he looked more anchored in his skin, more comfortable and at home in this body no longer living. He had come into his own, fleshed himself out with darkness and modern fineries and it suited him. Crowley had certainly met vampires who wore their age less gracefully.

Crowley didn't bother to try and look as though he wasn't looking. As a matter of fact, his eyes slid down the length of his body and back up again, appraising and predatory.

"Death suits you," he commented, just loud enough for him to hear and quietly enough to be considered passably discreet.
That sort of comment got his attention, the knowing in the tone and in the words, drawing his eyes away from the people of the party and instead meeting the gaze that slid over his body, looking in all the right sort of ways. He was an attractive man, familiar in a way that gnawed at him, brought up memories of long ago, of Katherine and Stefan and many others and a party in the garden. 1863, and the man looked the same as he did now. Which was interesting, of course, but Damon had been stupid and human back then.

"Crowley, wasn't it? It's been a while."

He hadn't really thought anything of him back then, but now Damon allowed himself to look and appreciate the man. He was attractive, the suit he wore accenting his body in all the right ways, and Damon had opened his horizons in the past hundred and fifty years. Sure, cheerleaders and sorority girls might still be his usual type, but he was well-aware that there was pleasure to be found in the beds of men as well. He was just a bit pickier about the men he let take him home, but Crowley was interesting and attractive and he couldn't help but wonder what he'd be like with his clothes off.

He let his gaze wander back to his face with a lifted eyebrow as he sipped at his scotch quietly. That flicker of desire was there in his eyes, and Damon didn't try to hide it as he smiled prettily. They were both monsters here, and he'd learned there was power in wanting someone. Not in loving someone, not in what he'd felt for Katherine, but in that raw thrum of fascination and desire.

"So what brings you back to this boring little town?"
Crowley looked the same now as he did then in the same way that Damon did. Time did touch him, but not in the usual ways. It changed his hair, his style of dress, but not the way he carried himself or the overall air of superiority. Neither men wrinkled or grew old, and neither man could really be called men.

"Oh, you remembered. I'm touched. I didn't know if you'd have had room left for names with that pretty little thing occupying you and your brother's attention," there wasn't surprise or humility behind the words, though it was fairly clear he was aiming to mock both sentiments. It came off amused and cocky. "Looks like things have changed... at least for you."

Damon may know his name, but Crowley wasn't sure what Damon really knew who he was. They'd never been properly introduced.

"I'm a sucker for for these small town parties... you never know who you'll run into," it was obvious what his intention was here. Business done for the night, he was looking to get a little bit of pleasure in before he was off to the next job.
"Katherine seemed rather intrigued by you at the time."

The fact that he'd fixated on those days, with Stefan and he struggling for her affections in the years since might also have had something to do with it. He didn't know what Crowley was; assumed him to be a vampire that had been smart enough to not stay in Mystic Falls, to not be there when the town turned on them. Love had twisted, turned darker, into anger, if not quite outright hate.

"Forever is far too much fun to languish over someone like her."

He lifted an eyebrow as Crowley claimed to like these small town parties. Oh, he caught the subtext there, what he was here for. Damon was more than a little interested by the fact that he was who Crowley was lingering around, instead of someone stupid and easy, like the blond football player, or the Lockwood's angry son. Of course, Damon rather thought he was almost the only game in town worth the trouble.

"They're just a cover for the Founder's Council, you know. Scheming in back rooms on how to protect their town from evil vampires."

Damon couldn't help the way that his mouth curved into a grin. It was both useful, and the irony was so utterly delicious, he couldn't help but enjoying it. The fact that the mayor's wife and the Sheriff both seemed to have a certain weakness for his charms didn't hurt things, either.
"Well, fortunately for you, she wasn't my type."

Damon, however, was.

Crowley could have stupid and easy every day of the week, and in the past he had, because it was fun to lead someone down a path that was tempting and a little frightening, never forcing, always providing choices until at the end, when that final decision was their own.

The way he said someone like her seemed as though there was more to the story than Crowley knew. Truthfully, at the time he hadn't paid the brothers too much mind because they were clearly otherwise occupied. Now, Damon's motives weren't his concern. It didn't matter to him if he still carried a torch for her or if his feelings were hate. Crowley was in this for the conquest, for the thrill of the chase and the pleasure of the follow through. If he was lucky, Damon would be worth a repeat encounter, and if he was very lucky he might be an asset.

"How quaint," he commented with a little grin, but it was clear that wasn't anything he didn't know. This town's history was as full of vampire hunters as it was of vampires. "Can't stay away, hm?"
"That makes you something of a rarity, you know. I hear she is something of a heart stealer, in between being greedy and selfish."

Only a little bitter. For all that he enjoyed pleasure, enjoyed seduction and the chase, there was still something that gnawed at him for never being that special. Katherine might not have compelled him to love her, but she never loved him as much as he'd loved her, either. If she'd ever loved him at all. But, that was the past, he was over her, and quite frankly he wouldn't mind seeing her dead body. Crowley was much more interesting, he was here, and Damon liked the game he was offering.

"So, if conniving busty brunettes aren't your type, what is?"

Tip of his tongue just barely flicking against the edge of his bottom lip as he watched Crowley, a hint of heat to his pale blue eyes. Always sharp, always predatory, monster just barely held in check, close enough that no one ever forgot what he was. Unlike Stefan.