Author's Note: Ok, so, I actually really like this piece. It was SO much fun to write, seriously. I couldn't stop. Hence why it's so obnoxiously long for a one-shot. The only thing I don't like is the ending, but I couldn't find myself able to write it with any other ending- unless I wanted it to be SUPER LONG, which I didn't. This is already ridiculous, heh.
This was inspired by a prompt given to me from a lovely member of the Damon/Bonnie LJ community. I could NOT be more grateful to them. Like I said, writing this was a blast. Just some good, harmless Christmas fun. A day late, unfortunately! Sorry! Hope you all like it anyway! And I hope you all had an amazing Christmas and got all the presents you wanted. As always, all disclaimers apply.
Residents of Mystic Falls rushed by him, huddled under their hoods and umbrellas. They were trying to shield themselves from the icy touch of the rainstorm, each drop probably feeling like a sliver of icicle sticking into their skin. For Damon, they hardly tickled. However, they did obscure his vision, and it made the walk to Mystic Grill an annoying one. He wished it would just be December and snow already. At least then he would not have to dodge the pointy ends of umbrellas are every corner.
He shook his jacket as he stepped into the local restaurant, the consequent shower and his soaked shoes creating a sizeable puddle at the entrance. Conveniently, the man he was looking for walked by at that moment.
"You can hang up your jacket at the…oh. It's you," Matt said, his friendly host disposition fading as he saw the latest customer. "Thanks for tracking in half the storm with you."
Well, he's in a chipper mood, Damon thought, donning his warmest smile and following Matt as he began to walk away.
"Matt. Good to see you too. Listen, I know you and I never really had a real chance to talk, but-…"
"I'm not trading, Damon. Caroline just called, she said you might try something like this."
Damon scowled, swearing under his breath. He spread his arms in exasperation. Matt merely continued on his way to the grill's front counter, Damon trailing behind.
"Doesn't anyone else think she's taking this Secret Santa thing a little too seriously? Who assigns a Secret Santa in November, anyway?"
"She wanted to give everyone time to get good presents," Matt explained, reaching for a towel. Damon was convinced he was just pretending to look busy to get him to leave. "You know Caroline."
"Yeah. Unfortunately," he muttered bitterly. "How did I get roped into this, anyway?"
Matt finally looked up at him, pausing while cleaning a glass.
"Look, I know it's dumb, but the girls are excited about it. I think they deserve to be happy about something normal for once. We all do," Matt said, and Damon could not help but begrudgingly notice that for someone who had been pulled into the supernatural world so violently, Matt had a very laid-back sense of maturity about him.
Maybe I should have worked harder to establish a sort of friendship with this one, Damon mused, his expression relaxing. Seems like he's one of the few sane ones around here.
Still. Doesn't make him right about this.
"Yeah, but why do I have to participate? Vampires wouldn't exactly be on Santa's nice list."
"I don't know. I guess if you're going to hang around like you're one of us, you may as well act like it," Matt said, shrugging. He tossed the towel over his shoulder and crossed his arms. "Need anything else?"
Shifting his weight, Damon sensed Matt's impatience. He knew Matt had a lot of reasons to still hold a grudge against him, and he supposed that was why they had never been close in the past.
Can't this town just let things go every once in a while? he complained mentally. Would make my life a lot easier.
Damon looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Maybe some advice?" he asked, fidgeting, frustrated he even had to voice the request. Matt took a breath and shook his head, at a loss.
"I don't think I can help you. I never had to buy Bonnie a gift," he pointed out. "Why don't you ask Elena? Or Caroline?"
"Caroline thinks that's cheating," Damon growled. "And Elena was no help. She just suggested girly things, like hair straighteners," he said with disgust.
"That sounds fine. Pretend she's just another girl," Matt offered, seemingly trying to be helpful.
"No," Damon moaned, dragging out the word for emphasis. "that won't work. Girls are easy to shop for. Elena, for example. I bet you got her a diamond necklace once for Christmas when you two were the hot couple of Mystic Falls, right?"
Matt's eyes widened.
"How did you-…?"
"And you got her a charm bracelet, too, and then a cute little handcrafted jewelry box to keep it all in. Girls love that kind of stuff. Stuff with meaning, stuff they can show off to everyone else." Damon sighed with frustration. "But that only works when you like them. I don't like Bonnie, and Bonnie sure as hell doesn't like me."
For some reason, that elicited a small chuckle from Matt.
"Oh, come on. You two are friends."
Damon looked at him in disbelief.
"You obviously don't know us very well. "
The ghost of a smile still lingered on Matt's face when he braced his arms on the counter, leaning forward.
"I may not know you, but I know Bonnie. And I know she's been through a lot lately, and she deserves a good Christmas present from someone who cares." Matt suddenly got serious, and Damon got the impression he was talking to Bonnie's overprotective older brother for a moment. "So if you honestly don't care about her, then yeah, you can trade with me. But if you care, even a little, then you need to get her something. Something good."
A pause, wherein Damon could not think of something to say to further argue his case. He was caught. He usually didn't care about sounding heartless, but something Matt said earlier stopped him from making a snide comment.
I guess if you're going to hang around like you're one of us, you may as well act like it.
He meant Damon should start acting like a friend. It was something Damon had difficulty doing, because he had spent so long focusing purely on his selfish needs, and when he originally befriended Elena and her friends, it was merely for his own ulterior motives. To be a real friend, with nothing in it to benefit himself? Being kind and generous for the sake of it?
It didn't come naturally to him.
But as he matched Matt's gaze evenly, he realized he was kind of an integrated part of their lives now. He was tied to them, not exactly by their consent. He was a part of their circle. They considered him an ally at least, a friend at best.
And he supposed that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He may as well humor the idea.
He pressed his lips together, nodding once to Matt. Turning, he left the Grill, his steps a little more purposeful than before.
Matt watched him go, curious as to how this was going to play out.
"Bonnie."
She stirred, slightly.
"Bonnie, come on. While I'm young."
He greeted her with a flash of a grin, but she didn't seem to be happy to see him when her eyes finally slid open.
"Damon?" she managed to rasp out, her voice rough with disuse. He loved it when girls' voices sounded like that in the morning- coarse and throaty. He would be lying if he said there wasn't something very attractive about the way Bonnie just said his name.
"Bonnie," he returned cheerfully. "Did you know you're out of dish soap?"
She was blinking rapidly, trying to clear her vision. Sitting up, she ran a hand through her hair, the movement revealing her upper body- only just covered in a lacy maroon tank top. She caught his wandering eye and pulled up her bed sheets, shooting him a glare.
"What are you doing here? And why were you checking to see if I had dish soap?" she asked, amazed that she even had to ask such a question. Damon took the moment to stroll around her bedroom.
"I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd come stop by, see if you needed anything," Damon lied easily, admiring the faint chalk outlines of ritualistic circles dusted onto her floor.
"At 4 in the morning?" Bonnie asked, her voice taking on a new edge once she realized the time. "Seriously, Damon. Get to the point. I don't find nighttime visits amusing like some girls."
Damon couldn't help but chuckle, for he knew what she was implying. Elena must have mentioned his old habit of dropping in on her at night.
"I haven't disturbed Elena's precious beauty sleep in a long time, so she better not be complaining about that still," he said, then pointed to a bare part of her wall. "I'm surprised, Bonnie. I was expecting more posters of boy bands."
When he looked over at her, Bonnie had her arms crossed haughtily over her chest, her eyes narrow. Evidently, she didn't appreciate his joke.
"You have exactly five seconds to tell me what you want before I throw your ass out of here," she informed him, her tone flat and serious. Damon attempted another smile, this one strained, but her expression remained unchanged.
He shrugged, approaching her bed. With amusement, he noticed she shifted away from him.
"Ok, fine. I admit it- I was trying to find something that would help me figure out what to get you for that stupid Secret Santa thing," he confessed, rolling his eyes. "Everyone is making such a big deal out of it."
Bonnie blinked, then rubbed her eyes, as if she hoped this was a dream. When Damon remained there, she sighed, accepting defeat.
"You're my Secret Santa?" she asked, a laugh escaping her. "Figures. Caroline is gonna kill you for ruining the surprise."
"Yeah, you also shouldn't tell her I tried to trade like five times," he mentioned, not worried that Bonnie would be offended that he would try to avoid being her Secret Santa. He was sure she would have done the same if she got him.
She chuckled, but a moment passed, allowing her to become more awake. Frowning, she looked at him again, her gaze more pointed.
"How did you get in here, anyway? I've never invited you in. And you still never explained the dish soap."
Damon exhaled impatiently, always hating to have to explain himself. It was so tedious.
"Without his contacts, your dad couldn't tell the difference between a vampire and a tree stump if his life depended on it. Which it probably will. In any case, he let me in," Bonnie's mouth was agape, so he continued. "While I was searching for some insight into your life so I would know what the hell to get you, I noticed you were out of dish soap. Considering the piles of spaghetti-crusted plates in the sink, you could use some. Another thing- you're one hell of a deep sleeper. I must have knocked for five minutes to get dear old dad to answer the door, only to find you sleeping away in your witches' lair."
Bonnie's eyes widened, and Damon observed her whole body tense up, like a cat that was about to dart in the other direction or pounce. Out of his whole explanation, he knew she had only heard one thing.
"Did you Compel him?" she asked, the accusation as sharp as a knife pressing to the side of his neck.
"Just a little bit." Bonnie glowered at him, and Damon returned the look defensively. "I just needed to be invited into the house, no harm done. He thinks he was just sleepwalking."
"Damon," she growled, and something stirred within him. Elena never sounded this sexy when I woke her up, he could not help but think, a grin sneaking onto his face. "I know you get away with a lot, but you can't break into my house and Compel my father at your whim. If you needed to ask me what I wanted, you just had to ask, instead of hunting around my house for clues."
Damon's eyes brightened, a wave of relief rushing through him.
"Really? Great! What do you want?" he asked.
"Not telling you now," she said coolly, and Damon threw up his hands, annoyed. "I'm not going to reward your behavior," she added.
"Oh, come on. Everyone does," Damon said, his tone verging on desperate. "Just a hint?"
Bonnie just shook her head, looking vaguely amused now, a faint smile apparent on her face.
"Damon, the perfect gift for me would be if you stopped making my life difficult."
"Well, that's unrealistic. Did you ask for a pony when you were a little girl, too?"
"Please," Bonnie scoffed, clearly thinking such an idea was silly. "I did ask Santa to give me Pegasus when I was seven, though."
Even though he was still frustrated, Damon smirked at the thought of Bonnie's father trying to talk his daughter out of wanting a mythical creature and suggesting getting a cat instead.
See, this is the problem, he thought, appraising Bonnie anew. She's different. I can't just get her anything.
Bonnie quirked a brow.
"Why do you care so much anyway? Since when does Damon Salvatore get into the holiday spirit?" she teased, leaning on one arm. "I picture you more as a Grinch-who-stole-Christmas kind of guy."
Taking this as a compliment, Damon bowed slightly.
"I wish. No, I'm more like Scrooge-who-gets-haunted-by-the-ghosts-of-Christmases-past kind of guy," he corrected, but suddenly he paused, his vision unfocusing. Inspiration illuminated his entire face, and the edges of his lips curled into a grateful grin.
"I just got an idea for your Christmas present," he announced smugly, standing a little straighter. With a smile, Bonnie rolled her eyes, turning away from Damon and laying back down in her bed.
"Great. It only took pestering me in the middle of the night to do it. I can't wait," she said, not too tired make powerful sarcasm. "Just be sure to take the price tags off of it when you give it to me."
Damon merely kept smiling, staying just a moment, watching Bonnie's breathing become regular. He knew she wasn't sleeping- he didn't think she trusted him enough to do that while he was there- but all the same, he appreciated the fact that he was now in Bonnie's bedroom at an ungodly hour, and she had not triggered an aneurysm in his brain. Yet. And while she wasn't allowing herself to fall into vulnerable slumber, her back was to him, and her guard was down. Some sort of trust was there.
On his part, too. He could had easily Compelled her dad to let Damon feed on him on an area that could be easily covered up. His hunger had been gnawing at him lately, after all. He could also easily kill her right now, while she was facing away from him. But he hadn't even thought to do either of those things. Back when he had first came to Mystic Falls, those kind of thoughts came to mind all the time. It had increasingly become harder and harder to be uncaring and dismissive towards these people, the ones that he had tied himself to. Most notably, he realized with a start, it had been a very long time since he had considered Bonnie an enemy or a serious threat. Sure, she was still powerful as hell, but she wasn't a threat to him- they had not been at odds for some time. It was almost like they were on the same side now.
He supposed that this was their friendship, then.
"Damon," she moaned without turning around, and Damon swore she knew exactly how erotic her voice sounded that time. "Only Bella Swan and Elena think vampires watching them sleep is romantic. It's creepy. Go home."
Damon smirked, hearing the smile in her words that belied their intent.
Friendship seemed too simple of a term, though. Certainly, their relationship was something different, something more than that.
Two people don't go through all that we have and are just friends, Damon thought. But whatever we are, I don't mind it.
He was gone in a flash, knowing when to make his exit.
After all, it was going to take more than a night stakeout at Best Buy during Black Friday to get Bonnie the perfect Christmas gift.
Bonnie was the only one taking it well.
"I'm going to kill him," Caroline fumed, pacing, her fists clenched.
"Calm down, Caroline, you're going to wear a hole in Elena's rug," Bonnie said with a laugh. Elena smiled gratefully, glass of eggnog in hand, and Stefan was sitting next to her, looking quietly entertained by the spectacle.
"How can you be ok with this, Bonnie? He didn't even bother to show up!" Caroline ranted, relaxing only a bit when Tyler came beside her, putting an arm about her shoulder.
"Come on, Damon is an ass. We all know that," he said, gesturing with his cup of spiked cider, and everyone nodded in unison. "Did you really think he was going to follow through with something as stupid as a Secret Santa gift exchange?"
Caroline stared at him, and everyone in the room held their breath.
"You think this is stupid?" she asked icily, crossing her arms. Realizing his mistake, Tyler immediately tried to backtrack.
"I didn't mean…you know I like…" he began, but Caroline shoved his arm off of her with a huff and went to sit next to Bonnie on the couch. Tyler looked to everyone for help, and Bonnie could only shrug sympathetically. Sulking, Tyler sat down where he had been standing, watching Caroline out of the corner of his eye.
"I'm not surprised," Matt said, walking over from the kitchen, passing a mug of hot chocolate to Bonnie and keeping one for himself. "But that still sucks you don't get a present, Bonnie. I'm sorry."
Elena nodded, putting a hand on Bonnie's arm.
"Yeah, me too. I really thought he was going to get you something."
Caroline was still infuriated.
"He is so not being invited to the Christmas party," she grumbled, and Bonnie felt bad that her friend was taking this more harshly than she was. She stood, setting down her mug and stepping to the side so everyone could see her, strewn wrapping paper crinkling under her feet.
"It's ok guys, really. I appreciate you getting upset on my behalf, but I honestly wasn't expecting anything," she said truthfully, talking mostly to Caroline but smiling at Elena. When she glanced to Stefan, he looked entirely too pleased about something but she couldn't figure it out, so she looked away.
"I'm fine. I couldn't be happier that we're all able to celebrate Christmas together this year. There's nothing else I could possibly want," she said, a bit sheepish about the cheesiness off her statement, but finding confidence in the truth of it. Everyone else seemed to appreciate it, and Matt even raised his cup in cheers.
"That's a relief. I guess I can take this back, then?"
Bonnie whirled around right into the body of Damon Salvatore. She stepped back, her eyes wide with astonishment. He took her moment of startled silence to his comedic advantage. Peering around her, he pretended to be looking for someone.
"Am I too late? Did I miss Tiny Tim?"
"You came?" Bonnie said, ignoring his jest, still in disbelief.
"O ye of little faith," Damon said, shaking his head in mock disappointment, grinning. "Of course I came. And I came bearing Christmas cheer and the best present ever."
With a flourish, he revealed what he had been hiding behind his back. It was a small pink bag with white tissue paper brimming at the top. It looked harmless enough, and Damon's expression was pretty innocent. All the same, Bonnie turned to look at her friends, as if for their permission to open the gift.
Caroline was positively beaming, and she was practically bouncing in her seat as she motioned for Bonnie to go ahead. Elena looked pleasantly impressed and nodded in encouragement, while Stefan looked proud and still a bit mischievous. Matt smiled, raising his mug again before drinking, and Tyler merely shrugged, still glancing to Caroline every couple of seconds.
Bonnie turned back to Damon, who looked surprisingly patient. He tilted his head toward her.
"Go ahead. It doesn't bite, I promise."
Bonnie couldn't help but grin at that, and hesitantly took the bag from him. It was light, and she began to pull the tissue paper out. Peeking in, she suddenly pulled back, looking at Damon incredulously.
"Dish soap?" she said, her tone a cross between amused and dumbfounded. Stefan couldn't hold it back anymore- he began laughing.
"Practical gifts are the best kind," Damon pointed out, but the smirk playing on his face was too wide. It gave him away. It was not like Bonnie demanded only the best kind of gifts- she really did need dish soap, to be honest- but he and Stefan were acting so damn suspicious. She knew there was more to this.
She merely held the bag, brow raised expectedly, and she settled her weight on her opposite hip.
"Oh, all right, you caught me," he admitted dramatically, as if he had been doing a great job of pulling off the charade until that point. "I was just screwing with you. This," he said, his voice lowering, "is your real gift."
In an instant, he snatched the bag from Bonnie and tossed it to the side, using his other hand (that had been behind his back the whole time, Bonnie realized in retrospect) to place the actual present before her.
It was not wrapped. It was a dark, mahogany box that was longer than Damon's hand, so he had to balance it steadily. It appeared about six inches deep, and even though the wood was a glossy, luminous shade of deep maroon, the box looked very old.
"Dude, you copied off me!" Matt yelled from behind her.
"It's not a jewelry box, idiot," Damon told him, looking back to Bonnie like he did not want to miss her reaction. "I'm not that cliché," he added in a loud, conspiratorial whisper.
Bonnie heard Elena hastily offer reassurances to Matt, who was now self-conscious about his choice of gift.
All the while, Bonnie and Damon had locked gazes, and Bonnie was just trying to see what (if any) sincerity lied in this act of generosity. Damon's eyes were lit up with playfulness and charm, as usual, but when he noticed her scrutiny, his face relaxed. The light was still there, but it was tempered by a glint of something that almost seemed to shine from behind the iris. There was something softer there, something a little more exposed.
"Merry Christmas, witchy," he said, his voice taking on a different note as well. It was almost gentle, as if he was afraid of scaring her away, and the use of the nickname was more affectionate than patronizing. He leaned closer to her, moving his free hand to grasp her own, guiding it to the box so she could hold it herself. She obliged, and his hands lingered under hers for a moment, and although they were cold from the frosty temperatures outside, she found herself wholly warm. Seeing this side of Damon was rare but refreshing, and Bonnie knew that whatever was in the box, Damon had given to her after much thought and out of the pure intent to evoke a happy reaction.
The gag gift even solidified this thought. Damon would not have gone through the trouble of setting up a prank if he didn't want to show the difference between what he would have gotten her had this been years ago and what he was getting her now. The difference between who he was before and who he was now. The difference between their relationship then and their relationship now.
With one last pointed look, Bonnie cast her gaze down to the box, sliding her fingers under the lid and lifting it open gingerly.
All at once, Bonnie felt a wave of power wash over her, so much so she almost stumbled backward. The contents of the box were from an ancient magic, that much she could already tell. She had been around bewitched objects enough to know what they felt like. She glanced to Damon, trying not to appear too fascinated and suspicious instead. He saw through that attempt in an instant, his proud smirk only growing.
She returned to the box. There seemed to be two items at the bottom, but it was hard to tell what they were. Bonnie pulled one out, seeing that it was a large golden ring with four stones set around the circle. The stones were each a luminous color- a ruby red, tranquil blue, striking green, and translucent white- and she was entirely enthralled because of how the ring felt in her palm. It was as if there were four different magic sources in each of the stones, and, it seemed impossible, but the forces were simultaneously pulling at each other and fusing together.
The sensation of having such a hurricane of energy in her hand was mesmerizing. It took a moment to realize that Damon was speaking to her.
"…was not easy to get," he said matter-of-factly. "It's called the Ring of Solomon- but it's not the real one, before you get excited," he said quickly, seeing her expression. "The original one, if it ever even existed, must be long gone. If you ask me, I think someone made up the story about it, and a meddlesome witch like yourself wanted to craft her own version. Several cults tried to do it, but only a few were successful. This is one of them."
"Damon…" Bonnie muttered breathlessly, unable to tear her eyes from the piece of history before her. "How did you get it?"
"That's between me and a very old, very moody witch who had a thing against letting go of her prized posessions. Don't worry," he added consolingly, reading her wary thoughts, "I didn't kill her. I just made it so she had to worry about healing herself rather than stopping me from taking the ring. She'll be fine. She had plenty of others rings that she probably had stolen anyway."
Bonnie wished she could be capable of feeling upset at his use of brute force against a possibly innocent witch, but she was too overwhelmed at the prospects of future spells to think sensibly. All she could think about was the lore tied to this ring, all the ways it could take down a demon or command the four elements, supposedly. She was now in possession of one the most timeless and influential enchanted items in history.
Thanks to Damon.
"I…" she began, shaking her head in dismay at her lack of eloquence. Damon gestured to the box again.
"That's not all, witchy. Keep going."
Unable to comprehend that there was more, she kept shaking her head as she reached in for the second time. It was an opaque stone that was just smaller than her palm. Smooth and cool to the touch, the rock was an irregular oval shape, and it had a tiny hole that went through the middle. It was also unexpectedly light; she almost felt like it should be hollow, though it clearly was not. The color and shape were familiar to her.
"It's a charmstone," she said, and Damon made a 'tsk' sound.
"Not just any charmstone. This belonged to one of the most famous oracles from the 17th century. They called him Brahan the Seer, but it was actually a woman. Figures- guys always try to take credit they don't deserve," Damon said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, like this was a private joke between him and Bonnie. "In any case, this was a bitch to get. Had to dig up half of Scotland to find where the damn pebble was buried."
Bonnie remembered Grams telling her something about Brahan the Seer when she was a little girl as a bedtime story. The oracle had a stone that could tell the future if you looked through the center. Unlike most oracles, Brahan's predictions were more straightforward and incredibly accurate, and people traveled from halfway across the world to hear about the future. She allowed the soothing voice of her grandmother fill her mind for a moment, remembering how shadows fell across her face when she was sitting on the edge of Bonnie's bed, telling her epic stories of times past, when seers were commonplace and witches were found in every land. The memory faded as quickly as it came, and Bonnie returned her focus to the present.
She could not see anything abnormal through the hole in the middle right then, but that was to be expected. One needed focus and intent if they wanted to try to predict the future instead of letting a vision just come to them. A sense of excitement burst through her chest, pooling through her veins to the tips of her fingers. Her occasional glimpses into the future could be actual, reliable predictions that she could will upon command. Her previous weaknesses could be all but eliminated with these two items, and she wished beyond all else that Grams was alive so she could share her gifts with her. This was the kind of stuff that Grams loved to find and implement in her spells.
With a forceful shake of her head, Bonnie tried to rid her head of wistful thoughts of her grandmother. It was difficult, for any advancement in her magical capabilities brought to mind how proud Grams would be. But she did not want to dwell on the past, not now. She had someone to thank.
Tears of gratitude threatened to make themselves known, but Bonnie suppressed them as she turned her head up at Damon, who was watching her with a pensive look on his face.
"Damon, I can't begin to thank…"
"Saved the best for last," he said, his tone unreadable as he nodded back to the box. "Look under the lid."
She did as she was told, putting the stone back next to the ring and examining the underside of the lid. There was a pocket glued there, holding some sort of thin paper. Carefully, Bonnie slid the paper out from behind the fabric, turning it over so she could see what was on the front, for the back was blank.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
"Now this was the hardest one to find of them all," he said, but he had lost all purpose to boast. He was merely relaying the story, his voice even and earnest. "Do you know how many Bennetts there are in Virginia? A lot. And almost all of them were witches who were somehow suspicious of a vampire getting their relative a Christmas present. Go figure. I ended up having to go to Boston to get this from your Great Aunt Meredith. Who, by the way, is upset that you never call her." There was a polite cough from Bonnie's left, and Damon rolled his eyes. "And Stefan helped too. He researched the ridiculously huge Bennett family tree to point me in the right direction. But believe me, I did all the work."
He opened his move to further explain the story, but he paused. He must have been distracted by the tears freely streaming down Bonnie's face, slipping over the hand that was still hovered over her mouth.
A corner was ripped and there was an ink smudge in the bottom, but the picture was still intact. The colors were faded because of the quality of photography at the time, but she had no trouble making out the figure of her grandmother cradling a newborn Bonnie in her arms. The date at the right edge confirmed her guess- this picture was taken right after she was born. Grams was settled in a hospital chair, wearing one of the pale blue gowns given to visitors, the brightest smile on her face. She appeared to be tickling baby Bonnie's stomach, for Bonnie seemed to be in the middle of a giggle, her mouth wide with a jovial grin. A tiny, wrinkly hand with tiny fingers was outstretched toward her grandmother, as if happiness was found in that moment between them, and she wanted to capture it.
Slowly, every movement taking a lifetime, Bonnie trailed her fingers over the image, wanting to touch that moment and bring it here.
The longest seconds passed, and finally, with much effort, Bonnie placed herself back in modern day, back in front of Damon Salvatore. She met his eyes.
"But, since you said all you wanted for Christmas was to hang out with these guys," he said, jerking a thumb in their direction, "then I guess I'll have to put all this stuff back where I found it…"
He trailed off, for the look on Bonnie's face made his usual need to deflect a serious moment feel unnecessary. Her expression was trapped between awestruck, unbelieving, and grateful, and she felt the last emotion begin to overcome the rest. Gratitude swelled like a balloon within her, filling every crevice of her being until it simply exploded.
Without a word, she threw her arms around him, clutching him tightly against her. She wanted him to feel her birdlike heartbeat, to feel the fragile heart that was ripping at the seams because his gesture was too much for her to handle. She laid her head on his shoulder, comfortable in the crook between it and his neck, content to rest there for as long as he allowed. His hands pressed into her back, tentative at first, but then becoming firm once he recognized her own steadfast grip around his neck.
"I can't thank you enough," Bonnie whispered into his ear, the joyful tears finally ceasing.
"This is a nice start," he said, and Bonnie liked feeling the level thrum of his deep voice at such close range.
The embrace would have continued had Stefan not cleared his throat pointedly.
"Hey, guys?" he said, having the tone of someone who was holding a secret much too long.
"What do you want, Stefan? Can't you see we're having a moment here?" Damon complained, but gradually pulled back. Bonnie finally relinquished her hold, and the pair exchanged a look that spoke volumes when there were no words to say.
Stefan pressed his lips together in one of his rare smug smiles, and all he did was point his index finger up. Confused, Bonnie glanced to the ceiling to see what he was directing them to, and suddenly she noticed it.
Mistletoe.
It all made sense now. No wonder Stefan could not stop laughing earlier. He must have put it there before they had come over and probably couldn't believe his good luck when the two perfect candidates stepped under it.
The group suddenly broke out into diverse shouts of lively cheer, teasing, and other such commentary. All of it fell to cacophonous background noise as Bonnie faced Damon again, her face thankfully already flushed from crying so he could not tell she was embarrassed. She was awkward about the audience, and she deliberately locked gazes with Caroline- who was shamelessly whistling and egging her on- and then with Elena, who was giving her a knowing smile and mouthing the words "go for it." She was leaning onto Stefan, who seemed to be feeling absolutely no remorse about the matter if his satisfied grin was anything to go off of.
There was not much holding her back, she supposed. Her friends' romantic encounters with Damon were well in the past, so she did not have to worry about upsetting them. It was a harmless cultural tradition, and he had just given her the best gifts she had ever received.
Still. It was Damon. Nothing was ever that simple with him.
Bonnie turned back to him, and he was grinning as if this was all according to plan. At the same time, he was still maintaining his new sense of patience, which was unnerving her. He was clearly waiting for her to weigh the decision out in her head, and it bugged her. He usually acted so quickly, everyone's decisions were made for them. But, for some reason, he was holding back. Like he wanted her to make this decision for herself.
"I don't know…" she managed to say, trying to think of a good excuse in vain. Damon was doing his best to look innocent, but she saw that roguish glint in his eyes.
"Come on, Bonnie," he said, his voice a sultry growl, too low for the rest of them to hear.
He leaned close for a moment, and Bonnie suddenly breathed him in. He smelled like pine needles and leaves, and there was a faint scent of cologne. She was oddly struck by this fact, that he had gone through the effort to put on cologne for this occasion, this mundane human celebration of a season of giving that she never thought he would believe in.
"I won't bite. Promise," he said, amused by his own joke. His smile was purposely enticing, almost pulling her toward him.
Now she was beaming again, and any possible excuse, any part of her that was whispering that this was a bad idea- all of them were eradicated. His light-hearted tone made her feel at ease.
It was not a big deal.
So, without even a pause, she destroyed the distance between them like it had never been there in the first place.
With her hands grabbing either side of his jacket, she caught his lips fiercely, planning on the kiss being short-lived so it may as well count while it lasted. But Damon was not exercising his patience in this situation.
He put his hands to her face, holding it steady, and Bonnie swore his thumb deliberately brushed away a stray tear. Deepening the kiss, Damon took her lips with his own, putting the power of the embrace in his control. The sudden intensity set her nerves aflame, like she had been standing too close to a firecracker.
Where she had been planning on the kiss being quick and fiery, Damon made it the exact opposite, and it caught her off guard. She never imagined he would be so slow, so sensual, but he somehow knew how to envelop her lips in an enjoyably overwhelming sensation, then gently releasing them, only to shift his position so he could softly take them again. It was a slow burn instead of a temporary flash of heat, and Bonnie felt as if it would be permanently etched onto her mouth, imprinted onto her skin, and ingrained in her bones.
Time held no meaning during this period, nor did anything else. She was so far from her usual sense of awareness that she swore that the kiss could have lasted hours, and she would have never realized it. She was lost in this, and for someone who has her feet constantly rooted on the ground, it was a liberating feeling.
Ages later, she felt herself light upon the familiar floor again, for Damon had moved back. His hands were still cradling her face, and he was smiling- not an arrogant grin or mocking smirk. It was just a genuinely happy expression that she almost wanted to touch, for she knew it was fleeting and rare.
"Merry Christmas, Bonnie," he said, finally lowering his hands. Bonnie's mind was dizzy with a million thoughts and emotions- everlasting gratitude, ecstasy, that freeing weightless feeling- and she found herself not minding the chaos. She liked the way her nerves were battling for any sort of stability while they were scattering across her body. She felt alive.
"Merry Christmas, Damon," she replied with a smile, staring at him a moment longer before turning away.
To the many blank faces of her friends.
Everyone was dead silent and gaping. Stefan was the only one who seemed calm, merely appearing complacent. Matt looked horrified, Tyler looked stupefied, and Caroline looked like she had just seen a girl trying to match a brown shirt with a black skirt. Elena was simply shocked, but she was able to recover swiftly.
Color began to flood Bonnie's cheeks, and she tried to sort through her brain to think of something to diffuse the tension. Luckily, she didn't have to.
"Alright, who's in the mood to get into the true holiday spirit? Caroline, I hear you make a mean Christmas martini," Damon said, moving beside Bonnie and nodding to the kitchen. Caroline, eager to keep the party going, jumped out of her seat with lightning speed.
"You heard him! Everyone to the kitchen. And make sure to avoid spilling so Alaric doesn't yell at us for the mess later," she added, shooting a look to Tyler, who seemed offended at her implication. The group began to make their way to the kitchen, but Tyler approached Damon on his way there. He shoved a small, black box into his hands.
"It's a Rolex," Tyler informed him curtly, appearing too distracted and disgruntled with the amount of annoyance he had been earning from Caroline to be a cheery secret santa. "Most expensive one the store had."
"Just what every vampire wants," Damon said sarcastically, casting a bored look to Bonnie, who grinned. "An overpriced watch."
"Yeah, whatever, man. It's not like I could get you a year's supply of blood or anything," Tyler griped, and Bonnie sympathized. If she was difficult to shop for, Damon must have been impossible.
"Cut him some slack, Damon. Not everyone was able to get the perfect gift," she said, paying him a compliment and reprimanding him at the same time. "Besides, I'm sure Tyler picked out a good one."
Tyler stood a little straighter, smiling thankfully to Bonnie.
"I guess you're right," Damon said, though it was clear he was unconvinced. "Thanks."
The pair shook hands, and Tyler nodded, turning to catch up with everyone else. Bonnie heard them falling back into normalcy, chatting while they filed into the other room to start drinking.
Bonnie and Damon hung back. After a stretch of a silence, he spoke first.
"Don't expect Nice Damon to be around all the time, witchy," he mentioned, smirking. "It's a once-a-year kind of thing."
"Don't expect me to be forever grateful," Bonnie said, her words aggressive but with a touch of amiability. "Today I'll be friendly, but tomorrow, things go back to the way they were."
But not only was Bonnie unsure of what exactly that was, but she also severely doubted that she would be able to stop this memory from arising every time she saw Damon now. All the same, she had to put this front. If she and Damon were nice to each other all the time…well, that just wouldn't be fun.
Damon started for the kitchen, turning and walking backwards so he could face Bonnie.
"Then we should made today count," he said, his tone playful, but she could see something dangerous in his suggestive grin. "Come on, I'll make you one of my famous drinks."
"Yeah, right," Bonnie scoffed, following. "I'd wake up with a massive hangover and have no memory of the last three days."
"Well, how else are you supposed to get through the holidays?" he pointed out, and they joined the rest of the group.
They separated for a while, Damon talking with Stefan and Bonnie listening to Caroline talk about Tyler. Sometimes, when Bonnie lost herself in thought, she would find herself tracing her mouth with her fingers, still feeling the tingling sensation, and her eyes would instinctively drift toward Damon, who would almost always be looking at her. They would exchange small smiles before returning to their friends.
No need to rush. The night was still young, and it would most certainly count. Bonnie was sure of it.
END