What Have We Become (Damon/Katherine 1/1)
Title: What Have We Become
Fandom/Pairing: TVD - Damon/Katherine
Summary/Prompt: I hate what we've become
Rating/Word Count: K+/~430 words
A/N: Something written for the tvd_rareships weekend comment fic party, originally prompted by simply_aly
Stepping through the threshold of the Los Angeles mansion, the need for an invitation long past, the brunette girl who could only just pass for twenty one let out a playful giggle, reaching out to grab a flute of champagne off the tray that was being carried through the crowds of people.
She turned her head, winking at the older man she had walked in with who offered a dry smirk in return before heading straight for the open bar. If he was going to get through the night - then he was going to need Whiskey. And a lot of it.
“You’re being no fun,” Damon was still at the bar an hour later when a familiar breathy voice filled his ear, teeth grazing his earlobe. “I want to dance.”
Damon downed the last of the tumbler of Whiskey (he’d already lost count as to how many he had) and let Katherine take his hand to drag him through the house towards the centre of the party, the dance floor.
A century had passed since the infamous showdown in Mystic Falls, attempting to bring down the feared Klaus. A century since the death of the younger Salvatore brother, half a century since the death of a human Elena.
The other humans and the werewolf, non-important beings in the long life of Damon Salvatore, were long gone as well. Only Damon’s ‘child’ remained, and she was pissed at him and Katherine (again) over something he had long forgotten, so she was still ignoring them and partying her way through Europe.
She’d come back eventually, she always did.
Katherine turned to smile at him again, a teasing gaze in her expression as they started to move to the music. This was everything she wanted. The immortality and never fading good looks that turned heads wherever she went. The parties, the wardrobe, the money. The man; even when he was being an asshole.
Damon spun Katherine around; winking at a woman hypothetically old enough to be his grandmother, smirking again at the blush that crept into her cheeks. He turned his attention back to Katherine when the grip on his hand tightened and tried to ignore the glaring differences between her and the other brunette he had loved.
The hair was a shade darker than he liked, and the eyes had a harsher glare to them; they were more jaded, coming from a girl who had seen every harsh horror of the world.
Later that night, when they were back in their own home, and Katherine was upstairs; waiting for him impatiently in their bed and Damon was spread out on the couch, staring out of the window at the lights of the city, with another glass of Whiskey in his hand, he would question again how he reached this new low in his life.