Hiii! So, this is my official first delena fanfic ever, buuut I wanted to finish a good numbers of chapters before publishing it, so now that I already have 13 written, I'm putting out there.

It's a slow-burn best friends to lovers, all human.

First-person POV, starting with Damon's on this one because that boy is just so fucking loud lately.

Hope you like it!

DAMON POV

I'm whistling happily when I, carefully, close the door of my beautiful 1969 blue Camaro because that car is the second most precious thing in my life since as long as I can remember. And, while rolling the keys in my finger, I walk to the most renowned bar-restaurant of TriBeCa, which, by the way, I own. Because, hell, after being kicked out of my house for declining my father's proposition to work in his company, just a month later after I dropped law school, I needed to prove him wrong. So, now, in my twenty-seven, I spend my days reminding everyone that comes to eat in here that it's not only sex or expensive cars that can make you moan, good food does the job, too.

And yes, I could be driving an Audi or a Dodge just to show off, but I have always loved the classic stuff way too much to change that. Besides, aside from the Grill, I'm also the most expensive therapist in the whole New York City. I know, I know, a cool guy like me who wears leather jackets and drives old cars isn't your typical listener, but I'm very good at what I do, even if, at first, I just choose this graduation so my mother would still send me enough money to pay the rent while I worked to get my own business.

But, even if one of my many impulsive decisions had turned out badly, it was in this class I shared with the snobby med students that I met Elena, and that alone, my friend, would have made all those years worth. That, and getting wasted with cheap booze as we all pretended that there wasn't an exam waiting for us on the next day.

The dogs days are over now, for most of the time, because with a successful career comes the responsibilities. Although it's not that hard to deal with it when you're doing something you love. And that's the secret of the adult life: it will suck either way, so you better not follow the path that will make you want to drown in alcohol instead of, in my case, being the one serving the drinks in the bar; that is, when I'm tired enough to works wonders in the kitchen. Of course, dear old dad wouldn't get that, but, then again, why would I care? My only regret is not seeing my mother as much as I would like to because the universe likes to laugh at me and always makes me bump with the guy when I stop by, so I now do my best to avoid.

I don't see my little brother that often either, but that's only because Stefan is the golden boy who runs the show of my father's company now, which means he is doing business travels all the time. Still, we are pretty close and, to make me glow even more, he always chooses to crash at my place when he's in the U.S. Well, he did, at least, before he started dating Blondie. She designs clothes, jewelry and bosses everyone around, especially my brother, so to say that the girl is always uptight like she just took the craziest shit is an understanding. She's good for him, though, helps him lose a little bit, which, trust me, he needs, therefore I hundred percent support it. Not that I'm telling her that. And I swear that there's nothing to do with the fact that my father secretly hates her because Stefan falling in love with a girl that was not on the list he had, made him miserable, while totally makes me a proud big brother. Once I tried to set him up with one of my only girlfriends, Bonnie, but she waved it off telling me that he was too much of a nice guy for her, and, honestly, I can't argue with that.

— Don't get me wrong, — Bonnie told me when I suggested it. — He is a looker, but your brother is just so… nice. — And she made a face that made me laugh.

I gasped. — Yeah, that's why I'm trying to put the two of you together. Shouldn't I, as your friend, play the matchmaker?

— Yes. — She agreed. — But, you don't have, you know, a bad boy to introduce me to instead?

And I was fucking cracking at this point. But when her face didn't change, I knew it wasn't a joke at all. — Are you serious?

— Pretty much.

— Alright, so, which of the Originals boys you want? Elijah is taken, though.

Bonnie looked horrified. — Please, no. I work with Kol, remember? And, even though I have a thing for British accent, Klaus is too royalty for his own good.

I picked up my phone, opened Enzo's contact on Hiroshima Nagazap and gave it to her. — Is he enough of a bad boy for 'ya?

Her eyes lit up at the second. — Oh my, he is delicious. — She looked at me, then back at the screen. — Great hands, by the way, I bet he can use these fingers to… — And I took the damn thing out of her hands.

— Stop right there. — I told her, pointing the phone threateningly.

— So… Is he single? — She asked much more into our conversation now; and I was already setting up a date to the two of them. I knew Enzo would love the idea because he saw Bonnie once with Elena at the Grill, but, at the time, she was dating this Lucca guy, so he shrugged it off and kept playing poll with me.

And that's the story of how I got my third job: love cupid.

Speaking of best friends, meet my drinking buddy, dear reader. Name: Alaric Saltzman. Current (and almost permanently) location: the seat on the corner at my bar that is pretty much reserved to him since he got dumped by his bitchy fiancee. He's the head of the History department of the New York University, and yes, being besties with a college professor does fall in the "out of character" folder as well, but, hey, I'm all about breaking rules, even if it is the ones that shape my own personality. And, in my defense, because believe or not, I did learn some useful stuff in the year I studied law, he is the guy who is always peeping me on to do the right thing, and it doesn't matter how drunk he is, there wasn't a day I regretted taking an advice he gave me while we were getting wasted, which is pretty impressive if you ask me.

So yeah, I love the guy as a brother; and the only reason I didn't murder Isobel when she left him was because that was one of the things he forbidded me to do, even after a whole night of bourbon. Like I said, impressive.

— Hey, buddy. — I tap his shoulder, taking my own reserved seat next to him. Then I nod to Rose, my favorite bartender, who works for me ever since I opened the place. — Just a glass for me, and, please, don't give me more even if I beg you.

She laughed. — Sure, tell me to piss off my boss.

— Your boss has to do the listening tomorrow. And, last time I check, showing up to your appointments wasted is not a great idea. — I covered my mouth with a hand to whisper conspiratorially. — Rumors says I advice a married woman to fuck her cheating husband best friend as a payback instead of helping on working her issues.

Alaric chuckles, because he knows I'm not lying. Rose is one of mine, though, hence why she simply replied. — I would have scheduled appointments for a lifetime if I got this advice.

I gave a smug smile at Ric who just rolled his eyes; and Rose filled up a glass for me and another for my buddy. — I suppose you're not doing all the talking about the Vikings tomorrow. — I said, noticing that he, on the other hand, was probably seeing stars already.

— You have known me your whole life and you still don't know what I actually teach in college, do you?

I do know, I just occasionally pretend that I don't. — Civil War is not as fun as Merlin and King Arthur. — I shrugged, taking a small gulp of my drink, because if I'm getting just once then I might as well enjoy every drop of it.

— You do know that Medieval is just not about the stuff you watch on television, right?

— Sure, there's the Church thing, too. — And when he gives me a look, I smirk. — Oh, spare the judgy eyes, you know I had more interesting things to do in high school.

Normally, he would have make a comment about how "fucking cheerleaders" is not a real subject, but tonight he's the moody drunk version of Ric, so what I get is a deep sigh, followed by. — Nope, I'm not doing all the talking about The Folklore during the war. — He emphasizes what it must be one of the classes he's giving this semester.

— Which means is your drinking day of the week. — I finish for him.

He winks at me, drinking the whole glass in a shot. — And why aren't you? Last time I checked you also don't work on Mondays, so you're free today.

— I told 'ya, I'm working in the morning.— I lie.

— Yeah, like you could get drunk before at least a bottle. Why setting up for just one glass? — But I don't need to answer, because one of the many perks of being best friends with someone is that the person can read you like a book. — Elena is coming today, isn't she?

God, I really didn't want to talk about it with this version of Ric, but here we go. — Yeap. — I popped the "p". — She got into a fight with Mr. Right, so when she texted me I said I would pick her up after her shift in the hospital.

I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, the problem is that a. not only Alaric knows me too damn well, b. I'm also incapable of being detached when Elena is concerned.

— And that's why you are this chipper on a Monday evening. — He teases, taking the coldly path right after. — Don't get your hopes high, though, those two broke up once a week.

— Thanks, buddy. — I answer, just as coldly.

He sighs. — Look, I'm not trying to be an ass, I know you've been in love with her since forever, but I also know you're not going to make a move because you haven't in the five years you've known her.

— It's Elena, Ric. — I shake my head, knowing I need to repeat the same speech I always give him if I don't want to receive one of his. — She's the best thing of my life, I can't risk it.

— So are you just gonna watch her fall for someone else?

Jesus, I hate his resentful drunk personality.

— She's dating someone else. — I remind him. — For a year now. And yes, they do fight all the time, but no matter how many times she spends Netflix and chilling with me, she never once considered breaking up. — I drink the rest of my bourbon not giving a fuck about enjoying it anymore. — So yes, I'm keeping my mouth shut. God knows I'm so much better at solving other people's issues.

— I still think she should know. — He insists.

And I'm already standing. — Ric, I'm not fucking up. Not with her. — He opens his mouth, but I cut him off before he gets the chance to speak. — I don't have time for this, 'cause I need to pick her up in twenty, ok? — Then I turn to Rose who is pretending not to listen, since the whole world knows I'm whipped over that girl except for her. — Don't let him pass out in my bar. — I tell her, walking towards the door without waiting for an answer.

I've met Elena, like I said, five years ago. I was doing my bachelor in Psychology, fourth semester, to be precise, just starting to realize I actually liked the classes and it wouldn't be the end of the world if my plans of having my own business were ruined, when this beautiful brunette let her books fall in the floor, embarrassing herself in from of the whole class, and I, as the gentlemen I am, went to pick up for her like on those cheesy rom-coms she's always making me watch. And we clicked, instantly. But, real life is not a movie, and turns out I'm not every girl's type, because even though we quickly became friends, she made it pretty clear at the night I tried to kiss her that we weren't going to happen. — I like you, Damon. — She said, high as fuck, and the "but" that followed still hurts like hell. — And that's exactly the reason why I'm not sleeping with you.

She didn't elaborate on that, but I get it now. I would have fucked up, which would've ruined our friendship. And, that day, she was admitting she cared about having me in her life too damn much to risk it over a good fuck. Plus, I also discovered soon enough, she doesn't do bad boys. No, Elena likes the nice guys, the ones that are not messy, complicated or reckless. And mostly blondies, so yeah, on this romantic comedy I'm doomed to be on friendzone.

Most of the time, I'm ok with that. Would I sell my soul to have one night with her? Damn right I would. But she's too good to date someone like me, and fuck if I wouldn't want to be her Prince Charming and walk to the sunset with that girl, because, see, with Elena it's all or nothing, so if I can't have it all, then I sure don't want half of it.

Not that being best friends is that bad. I spend more time with her than anyone else in her life, and that includes Mr. Right, because partners in crime tops boyfriends in her list of priorities, always. Some of my friends says that I have the best of both worlds, since I get to fuck whoever I want, while I still can do everything else with Elena. The problem is not even the hottest chick who gives the best blowjob in the world can get under my skin like she does. Trust me, movies nights are not hard just because I need to fight the urge to kiss her when she's crying because "Oh my god, Damon, Mr. Darcy is so perfect," but also because I need to shift positions in the couch when I get extra horny because she's just so fucking beautiful and it's so damn hard to see her exposed legs without letting my mind flip through sex positions like a Rolodex. And, given the fact I'm sexually frustrated because I haven't got laid in weeks since having two jobs eats me alive and I always choose to spend my days off with her anyways, I'm already imagining how tonight is going to be super.

Then, I see her red eyes when she gets in my car and all of it fades away because the only thing that kills me more than seeing her with someone else is when the douchebag breaks her heart. Which, by the way she clings on me when I ask her if she's ok, sobbing against my chest, I can tell Mr. Right royalty fucked up.

I let her cry all she wants, not even daring to say a word, until the car behind me starts to honk impatiently, and Elena drifts apart so I can drive. And, after the longest silent in history, she finally tells me what happened. — Matt and I broke up.

Holy shit.

That was not what I was expecting. Trust me, I'm definitely blowing up fireworks on the inside right now, but I know Elena. And that boring pediatrician is someone she truly likes, because she is not the kind of girl who dates a guy for a year if she doesn't see a future with him. Damn, a week ago she was talking about taking him to spend Christmas with her family, and that's enough confirmation about how serious things were. But I know I can't ask her any of that, because here's the thing about Elena, she won't spill the beans for at least days, not until she had felt every bit of her heart breaking. "Pain demands to be felt", she told me once, quoting this teen book she loves about two sick kids; and even though I could disagree saying that I would much rather drown in alcohol, I've also spent the last five years pining over my best friend, so I'm in no position to judge.

So, I do what I can do best; and, putting an imaginary red nose in my face, I'm ready to be her clown for as long as she needs me to. — If you want me to kick his ass all you have to do is ask. — I offer first, because I don't know how bad he screwed up.

She gives me a half smile that should give me points on a cosmic scale for it and says. — Thanks, but I just want to be around you for the night.

Oh, I do know the feeling.

Instead, I just give her my kindest and sincere smile before drumming the steering wheel. — Tell you what, I'm going to cook eggplant parmesan while you eat ice cream and cry over Mr. Darcy.

— No romance. — And her voice cracks, so yeah, I so want to kick his ass right now.

— You still want the eggplant, though? — I tease, because if she starts to cry again I'm gonna lose it.

Thank God it works, and she's teasing back. — Did I ever refuse you cooking for me?

— Good. — Then I turn at her, giving my best puppy eyes. — And I know the rules are ice cream with rom-coms, but the one I have it's a vanilla homemade, not the awful crap they sell in the market, so I really think you should eat as a desert, even if it is to be scared 'cause that possess kids are so freaking creepy.

— You know I'm sucker for vanilla. — She admits. — Especially the one you make.

— I know, I'm awesome.

She rolls her eyes. — And we are watching The Conjuring.

— The second one, right?

— Yes. — She agrees.

And it's only when my eyes are already back on the road that I feel her hand on my right arm, squeezing it gently. — Thank you, Damon.

— Did I ever refuse the opportunity of seeing you scare to death because of possessing girls?

She punches my arm in response, with an actual full smile now, and I can't help to smile back. — You're an ass.

— Yeah, but you love me. — I wink playfully.

— I do. — She said, coming closer to rest her head on my shoulder, to which I replied resting mine on hers. Then, she adds. — You're the best friend in the world.

And I sigh deeply because unrequited love is a bitch.

Please, please, let me know what your first impressions were. Reviews do keep me writing and posting it, so yeap.

Thank you for reading, btw! Have a nice week!