Cold Fries

I started writing this short piece for the prompt: Alaric/Damon – feel something.

But then it turned into a Delena story instead. Don't know why but the upcoming episode (road trip, road trip!) seems to inspire me to write a lot of what I'm afraid we won't be seeing on the show. Hope you like it.

As always, this is un-beta-ed, sorry. I'm too impatient to have someone else looking it over before posting. I want things up and ready for people to read the second I finish writing them. And also, I don't own anything from the Vampire Diaries, not even the cold fries on Alaric's plate.

The diner is empty apart from a lonely middle-aged man in one of the red leather-clad booths. He's staring down onto his half-eaten plate of fries next to his coffee, not looking up when they enter.

Damon tears the door open with a casual swing that has it bouncing right back and, not waiting to see if it smacks into Alaric's face when he follows, struts inside like he owns the place.

Alaric shares a quick look with Elena, who makes the silent rear of their unlikely trio. The girl appears to be only half-awake, her eyelids are drooped and she can barely walk a straight line to the booth Damon's already sprawled in.

Alaric takes pity on Elena, after all it's half past two at night and she should be asleep for all intents and purposes. He steers her by the shoulder towards the booth and lets her slump down before he slides in next to her.

Damon doesn't look up from the menu he's studying and Alaric silently grabs one for himself from where it is wedged in between the salt and pepper sprinklers on the table. He doesn't have to glance at it for long to decide what he wants. It's your average diner menu with fries and burgers and the likes and at this point Alaric doesn't really care what he's gonna get into his growling stomach anyway.

He looks up when he notices the bored-beyond-words waitress making her way over to them, notepad and pen ready in her hand.

"Elena," he shakes her shoulders gently. "What do you want?"

She grumbles something unintelligible and doesn't open her eyes. "Elena," Alaric tries again.

"She'll have a burger and a coke," Damon's voice is sure and his smile for the waitress is bright. "But leave the pickles, she doesn't like pickles. I'll have the same, but make that a beer instead of coke. And it's with pickles for me."

The waitress pops her gum and notes the order down with a nod. When her head turns to Alaric he has to shake himself out of his stupor for a moment.

"Coffee, black," he orders then. "And just fries. Thanks."

The waitress shuffles away and Alaric turns his head to ask Damon how come he knows Elena doesn't like pickles. But then, there's really no need, is there?

Damon knows because once upon a time, before this whole 'you-killed-my-brother-and-you're-lying-when-you-say-you-saw-the-ring' thing started, Elena and Damon have been close. They've been friends, friends who spend time together, who know what the other likes to eat and what not, who simply know each other.

And Alaric can't help but wonder if Damon misses that. The friendship, the closeness, the easiness between them. If that's maybe why Damon has been needling Elena constantly with his flirty comments and casual touches. If Elena's sudden, but well-deserved, coldness is perhaps getting to him.

If Damon's feeling the loss.

But that would imply that Damon is able, or better yet, is allowing himself, to actually feel something.

Alaric isn't aware that he's been staring at Damon's smirking face for a while now. Only when Damon raises one dark brow expectantly and flashes him an impatient: "Well? Say it, Rick," he brings his eyes, and thoughts, back into focus.

"Do you…" he starts but then breaks off again when the waitress dumps their food on the table. The drinks are already there, though Alaric can't remember her bringing them at all. He grabs the hot steaming cup and takes a cautious sip from his coffee. His eyes never leave Damon's face, he watches the vampire take a swing from his bottled beer.

"'Lena," Damon suddenly addresses the half-asleep girl that Rick has nearly forgotten is slumped in her seat next to him. "Wakey-wakey, food's here. Come on, you need to eat something."

Elena's eyes fly open after only the first word and a soft smile grazes her face before she's able to control it. And that's all it takes for Alaric to suddenly know without a doubt that Damon's not the only one missing their friendship.

During the day, when awake and alert, she may be able to hold on to the cold hatred. But her over-exhausted and sleep-deprived mind just can't pretend anymore. Or maybe it doesn't want to.

Alaric shakes his head in stunned awe when he watches the smile fall from Elena's face the second she's fully awake.

"Don't pretend to care," she snaps over the table and takes a quick sip from her coke. Then she grabs the burger and flips off the top, ready to pick off any unwanted contents.

"Oh," her voice is soft, stunned, when she discovers there's nothing to remove. The burger is perfect, just the way she likes it.

Elena's eyes fly to Damon instantly. Alaric follows her gaze and he sees the vampire's blue orbs sparkle with obvious pleasure at having done the right thing.

"No pickles, 'Lena. I haven't forgotten."

Elena's face closes off. "Neither have I."

Ouch!

Alaric shakes his head again and silently puts some fries into his mouth. These two, he knows, still have a long way to go. But he's suddenly sure they're gonna make it.

Why he wants them to or why he even cares… Alaric doesn't probe his mind for an answer. He knows he wouldn't like it anyway.

But he likes cold fries even less, so he stops thinking all together and continues stuffing some into his mouth. This way at least he knows he's safe from saying something neither of them is ready to hear yet.

The End

Do you like it? Let me know.