Just because I adore Caroline&Damon friendship, and cause I wanted to write something light.
This is slightly AU - imagine that Caroline didn't get shot with vervain and had instead woken up to a nice "morning after" with Tyler.
She throws herself into her seat and sighs happily. "Sorry I'm late." Damon looks at her with raised eyebrows. "What?" she says defensively. "A girl can't be happy nowadays?"
"Most happy girls don't smell like wet dog," Damon points out.
She huffs. "Tyler doesn't smell like wet dog. Stop playing on stereotypes."
"You still smell like him, honey. Do I want to know why?" He plays with the rim of his glass lazily, the sun glinting off his hair as it hits the Grill's patio dining area perfectly. When she doesn't answer, he looks up with a disgusted expression. "Are you seriously saying that you had sex with a werewolf last night?"
"Yeah, scream that just a bit louder, Damon," she hisses. "Ecuador didn't quite hear you."
"Is that what he said in bed?"
"Oh my God. I'm not having this conversation with you."
"Was he better than me?"
"Seeing as he didn't torture me or take my blood, yes, I'd say so," she bites back waspishly. He grins; they've reached a point in their friendship where even those memories don't hurt them.
"But in terms of, ah, pleasure?"
"I'm not having this conversation with you," she repeats, a slight blush covering her cheeks.
He shrugs. "Whatever." His expression turns a little more serious then. "Are you okay, Barbie?"
She looks at him, a little confused by the one-eighty he just pulled. "Okay with... what?"
Damon rolls his eyes, reverting back to his sarcastic normal mode. She breathes a little easier - it's nothing bad or scary or supernatural he's asking about, then. "Okay with the werewolf, you blonde."
"I take offense to that," she said automatically, but then she registered the actual question. "What do you mean...? He's not hurting me or anything."
"He did before," he reminds her. She sucks in a breath. Oh, she remembers.
"He's back now," she says sharply, more sharply than she intended. She winces. "Sorry. But... he's back. And he's not leaving again."
She briefly wonders who she's trying to convince. Damon seems to be thinking the same thing, but for some reason he doesn't push it. He just sighs and stands up, customary I-don't-give-a-crap expression sliding over his face again. "I'll see you later, Blondie."
Caroline gives him a curious look. "You said you needed to tell me something."
He leans over. "I wanted to tell you that..." he lets the sentence dangle for a few seconds, "you still smell like dog."
And then he saunters away, leaving Caroline to roll her eyes and find some blood bags.
Tyler's back from a jog - there's so much pent up energy in his system nowadays - and about to take a shower when a flutter of white catches his eye. Frowning, he goes over to his bureau and picks up a smooth, worn sheet of paper. It looks like it's been torn out of an old, blank diary.
A messy, somehow elegant scrawl fills the page.
Let's get this straight, werewolf - hurt her like I did and I'll personally return the favor of your bite. Except this time around, I'll rip out your jugular. Got it?
A signature isn't needed.
Despite the threat, Tyler has to grin. He can just imagine what Caroline's reaction would be to the note.
"I'm not a fricking damsel in distress!"