(Untitled)

[miseternity]

[ When Elena stumbles downstairs this morning, she'll find Damon in the kitchen. Cooking. He looks a lot better than last week, all things considered. The fact that there's an iota of color in his face, for instance. Of course, his betterness is pretty superficial. The fact is, Stefan's gone, he's been working his ass off to track a guy who

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[ourgirlfriend]

[But there is no stumbling: she's dressed and ready for whatever the day may bring. Sacrifices, missing boyfriends, taking care of vampires with werewolf bites, even the off-chance of a violent alien invasion. (Would anything ever surprise her anymore?)

Elena moseys on into the kitchen for her usual cereal and cup of coffee with her usual brave face, her brows cinching and her steps slowing momentarily when she smells something delicious. Not a normal occurrence in the Gilbert-Saltzman household.

Oh but, she should have known.] Damon? What are you doing here? [Insert breathless pause here.] Did you-? [Yeah, she'll cut herself off there. The -find Stefan? part does not need to be jinxed so early in the search. Or rather she can't bear to ask and hear him say no.]

[miseternity]

Make you breakfast? As a matter of fact ... [ He lifts the pan off the stove, never losing that smarmy smile, and uses the ... flipper thingy utensil to shovel the omelet out of the pan and onto a plate. Fuck what do you call those things? Idek. The point is, he's serving it up and I am the best at RPing.

He slides the plate across the island to the breakfast bar where there's already a fork and knife laid out. ] Coffee or orange juice? [ Once the pan's dropped into the sink, he's grabbing his own mug of coffee and leaning up against the countertop, watching her. ]

[ourgirlfriend]

[That was not the question and she knows he knows it. :| Her lashes flutter and her lips purse, because that's an answer or deflection if there ever was one. (Funny how a year ago he was terrorizing her and now he's waving kitchen utensils and making her omelets.) She hasn't had much of an appetite lately, or sleep; has that been mentioned yet? Yet she sits down after a moment of simply watching him right back in equal parts frustration and hope, ending the weighted stare to gesture for the coffee pot.

Also, it's called a spatula.] That's not what I meant.

[miseternity]

[ No, it's bigger than a spatula, gawd. Spatulas are those tiny white things you stir cake with. This is like flat and black and has slots in it. Whatever it is, it's in the sink now. ]

I'll pretend I'm surprised. You know, I'm gonna have to be offended if you don't eat. I worked hard on that delicious omelette you're not touching.