Title: Mayonnaise

Synopsis: Drabble. Allen would eat anything, even with mayonnaise all over it. Implied Alma/Kanda and if you squint, Kanda/Allen.

Rating: K+

A/N: Not long or special, I just had the idea for this, and though I don't usually write about Kanda, I thought I'd give it a try.

Disclaimer: I don't own DGM, because if I did, Alma would have liked something a little less stupid than mayonnaise.

--

It was strange to watch that kid's eating habits. Everything that was placed before him was stuffed down his throat; it seemed to Kanda that there was nothing that Allen Walker would not eat. Still, for a while a question had plagued his mind.

"Hey Kanda, pass the pepper?" He did so, a frown on his face. "Kanda~, pass the salt?" Again he did so, wondering if this kid would die from some food-related illness, rather than an akuma attack like he did. Or he had. The memories were still foggy and were not things that he dwelled on. Still, it was clear that his attacker had been an akuma. "Kanda could you-"

"Be quiet when you're eating, bean sprout." Taking his chopsticks, he brought some soba from his own plate up to his mouth. He paused, savoring the flavor, before passing Allen a napkin, what he was about to ask for. "Here."

"Thanks Kanda. This mayonnaise is making a real mess."

Kanda's eyes traveled over to Allen's usual mound of food and saw that creamy white sauce drenching every piece of it. "Mayonnaise." A picture of an old friend popped into his brain; an image that he would have very much liked to forget.

"Yeah, mayonnaise! It's great; Jerry makes it really good, too. You should try some, Kanda, it's creamy and sweet and-"

"Shut up." Allen stared.

"What did I do this time?" Instead of answering, Kanda sat, his eyes staying stationary, staring at his soba. Mayonnaise. One word could invoke all of the things that he hated to hear and wanted to forget. Alma…

He stood up, abandoning his food and walked out of the cafeteria. Making the similarities between Alma and Allen in his head was no use; he could not be bogged down. He could not waste time trying to be friends with the people here, especially Allen. The two of them were so similar.

"What's his problem?" Lavi asked as he slid into the spot that Kanda had occupied a moment before.

"Dunno; he doesn't like condiments, apparently." Allen said as he dug back into his mayonnaise-covered lunch, worrying, just a tad, about Kanda's hurt feelings.

--

Fin