AN: Hello there! here is my contribution to the Bamon week as I was away on holiday :) I'm gonna try and fill out each prompt when I get the time, apologies for any mistakes, i'm still trying to find my feet and style! Enjoy!
Stefan the Bamon Fanboy
Prompt One/Rating T
It wasn't everyday that Damon Salvatore sporadically woke up to the sounds of fits of extreme giggles at—cloudy blue eyes looked at the alarm clock that rested on his bedside table and groaned loudly—6:39am, especially when the giggles sounded eerily familiar and distinctively male. This unwanted disturbance was yet another reason why he hated this time of day.
Damon hated mornings, hated the sounds of birds chirping, hated the sounds of toast being popped from the toaster, hated the sounds of old spinsters indulging in morning gossip over spilt coffee and horrendously put together bagels. He hated the laboured breathing from the postman every morning as he valiantly attempts to squeeze as many piles of useless shit into his tiny mailbox as possible, forgoing any common sense when thinking of letter importance—favouring to stuff his little letter box with advertisements for the new phenomenon of kosher water over water bills. This petty annoyance had reminded him to compel the little bastard—as there had been a number of occasions where the postman promptly ignored the numerous post-it notes that he had plastered all over his box to stop that shit—however Damon Salvatore was and still isn't a morning person and the thought of dragging his immortal ass out of the warm confides of his bed to compel a mere postman made his eyes want to roll to the back of his head and stay there.
Sunlight breached unwontedly through his window, making him instinctively throw a muscular arm over his face while his other hand made work of rubbing the tiredness from his eyes, trying to avoid the harsh glare of morning sun as much as possible, however a sneaky ray managed to touch the surface of his brilliant blue eyes and Damon cursed, shoving his arm further into his face. He carried on his ministrations until another giggle made the motion of rubbing his eyes stop momentarily, with a slight wiggle of his ears; Damon used his elevated hearing to locate the disturbance, mildly surprised that it was coming from his brothers' room.
Damon blinked as he recalled the two constants when it came to his little brother.
One: Stefan was a brooder. His forever frowning forehead held the weight of the world on its metaphorical little forehead shoulders.
Two: Stefan never laughed, this was due to his near constant state of emotion based constipation, which normally was brought upon the absence of one Elena Gilbert.
Dropping his arms from his face to tactically scratch his naked stomach, Damon stared at the bare ceiling when he thought briefly on the latter, if Stefan rarely laughed, the thought of him giggling was borderline impossible, not to mention enormously creepy. Slowly but surely the dregs of sleep were being lost on the older Salvatore and were replaced with a painful awareness; if it wasn't Stefan in Stefan's room then it was someone else.
An intruder.
His fingers unconsciously twitched against his stomach, it's been so long since his last kill, Damon thought with a calm fondness, thinking of the many colourful ways of killing the obvious psychopath that was making itself comfy down the hall.
With bated breath he waited for another fit of giggles to come to a conclusion. A beat passed and Damon finally got his cue, not wasting another second humouring this madness, it was time to squash the pest that woke him from his peaceful slumber. The older Salvatore wrenched himself from his warm bed and promptly shoved his bare feet into a pair of slippers that earned a satisfied groan from the vampire, they were so comfy and warm that he could only vaguely compare it to that one time he drunkenly shoved his pale feet in the furry leftover's of Stefan's packed lunch back in his more sadistic days.
But that was a long time ago.
Damon shrugged at the memory, not bothering to put on any clothes as he left his large bedroom, deciding to ride into battle in a pair of black boxers and comfy slippers. He yawned loudly as he made his way down the hallway, raising his arms above his head to stretch as he walked, enjoying the little pops and cracks that emerged from his tired joints. Feeling a little daring, Damon loudly cracked his knuckles as he neared his brothers' door, the giggles getting louder than ever.
Before he entered however, his ears trained onto the sound of shuffling feet, the rustling of paper and the scribbling of a pen.
The giggling abruptly stopped when Damon pushed himself into the room, the first thing he saw was a man – a man bigger than himself hunched over a desk, obviously so transfixed over what his eyes were trained on that he must've not heard Damon tread through the door. There was paper everywhere, strewn across floorboards, all over his walls like wallpaper or posters of that little boy band kids these days are all over…One Erection or something? Shrugging, Damon glanced upwards, baffled that some even defied laws of gravity, sticking stubbornly to his ceiling, not one piece of paper completely free of either typed words or hand written scrawls. Another giggle and an angry scribble later the man stood to full height and Damon couldn't help but hold his breath as the man – who was cradling a handful of papers – suddenly raised both arms in dramatic slowness, limbs shaking at the sheer multitude of whatever was grasped in his trembling hands. The scene in front of him strangely reminded the older vampire of that one time Rafiki held up Simba proudly on that giant rock in that film he couldn't remember the name of, with Rafiki being the psycho in front of him and Simba being the inanimate object in his hands.
"It's finished…" the man said in a voice that was all too familiar to the blue eyed devil.
Damon shifted slightly, floorboards creaking underfoot to purposely alert and force the man in front to whip his head around to face him.
An eyebrow was raised as he recognised Stefan but –
"What the hell did you do to your hair?"
"It was getting in the way." Stefan waved dismissively, ignoring the multiple bobby pins that stuck out almost comically, pinning down his famous unruly locks.
Damon, as calm as ever, strode carefully towards his brother and paused just before he brought his arm up to slap him over the head – multiple bobby pins flying out in various directions of Stefan's poor head only to clatter loudly when connected to the floor.
It was silent.
"What was that for?!"
"For being such a creepy psycho, Stefan…" Damon hissed as Stefan rubbed the back of his sore head. "Your manic giggling woke me from my beauty sleep, what the hell were you doing?"
A strange new light entered his baby brothers' eyes that chilled Damon to the bone.
Seemingly forgetting all about the minor head wound, Stefan dropped his arm and with vampiric speed that even Damon didn't realise he possessed, zoomed across the room throwing papers in the air in a crazed fashion as he spoke. "Damon, you're not gonna believe what I found buried in that old tomb Silas was trapped in." Stefan gushed, blissfully unaware of the incredulous look his brother was giving him. The room was literally raining paper, yet Stefan still continued scouring the room for whatever he was looking for.
The mixture of his brother zooming round in many circles and the brilliant whites of falling paper was starting to do strange things to Damon's head, making his mood turn even more sour, thankfully it was only a little while longer till Stefan stopped directly in front of him, his hair now fully free from the constrains of the bobby pins that now littered the floor once again.
Stefan shoved a paper in his face.
Damon tiredly read it out loud.
"The Vampire Diaries by Julie Plec." The sheet had the distinctive look of a script, noting that on the other side of the page had brief character profiles of –
"Us." Damon said aloud, making Stefan cup a hand over his own mouth to stifle a giggle.
"You don't understand Damon, this is the key."
"Key to what?"
"To change everything." Stefan whispered breathlessly.
Continuing impatiently, Stefan placed a strong hand on Damon's shoulders. "These papers are brimming with magic, brother. Haven't you noticed that everything typed on these papers has actually happened? Like when we found out Katherine wasn't in the tomb or when Rebekah ran Elena and Matt off the bridge? Look, there's even stage directions to that one time you stroked Bonnie's cheek when she faked her death at the 60's dance that you thought no one knew about." He pointed to the various examples, showing the dialogue as well.
"How the hell—" Damon began, Stefan quickly placed a finger to his brothers lips and shushed him.
"I'm not a liar." He lied.
The older vampire swatted the offending finger away and couldn't help but ask, "So what the hell did you do to it?" he held some papers that were covered in his brothers' handwriting, some crossed out or overlapped the typed words that were there previously on the crisp pages.
A dark look crossed his little brother's face as the papers were snatched from his loose hands. Stefan made his way back to his desk and propped himself on the surface, crossing his arms defensively and propping his chin on the back of his downturned hand.
"I found that not only did these writings hold everything that has ever happened to us, past and future, but this, all of this was based on an ancient book, a book that took me weeks to find."
Damon made no move to question him so Stefan continued – lifting the white pages once more into the air.
"These pages hardly follow the ancient book, which I didn't entirely mind at first until I stumbled across something that simply took my breath away," he paused, trying to read his brothers face. "That something was your one true love, Damon."
"My what?"
Stefan was gushing by now, "One. True. Love! Hah! I know it's hard to believe – I was the total same – that out there, roaming around Mystic Falls was a human being that has the mental capacity of loving such a bastard. I couldn't believe it when I realised this Miss Julie had not yet included the romantic dynamic between you both in her work and that simply wouldn't do, so obviously with my experience in creative writing I had to take matters into my own hands."
The downturned palm that propped Stefan's chin was now upturned, cupping his face in his open palm as he sighed dreamily.
"I had a hunch that if these pages were really what I thought they were, then who's to stop me from making adjustments of my own? I tested the theory and started to write things on the magic paper and – and they came true! I couldn't believe my eyes!" He squealed excitedly, jumping off the desk and clasping his hands above his chiselled chest.
Damon was internally livid, he couldn't even begin to string a coherent sentence together; his face was so devoid of emotion that even his eyes forgot to blink.
Stefan, seeing his brothers steely gaze felt the need to reassure him.
"Don't worry, brother. I've got your back covered for this special moment. A couple days ago I had written in the script that Elena and Jeremy were to escape on a safari in Kalahari for some much needed sibling bonding – they both say hi by the way – I absolutely wanted no distractions."
"Distractions from what?" he managed to ground out.
"Damon…" a voice purred from the doorway, making him pause just before he got a chance to wring his brother's neck. Stefan turned to the visitor with unbridled glee and Damon couldn't stop his eyebrows shooting to his hairline.
There stood, only clad in a large black shirt – his black shirt – was an unrecognisable Bonnie Bennett, her form leaning lazily against the doorframe as she pulled her dark locks up into a messy bun. The heated glare that normally graced her features whenever he was in her presence was now replaced with a different kind of heat, a heat that made a unwelcomed jolt travel straight to his unmentionables.
His face was now carefully blank. "Cute outfit."
She made a small hum of agreement before opening her mouth, her voice a tone lower than he was used to. "I see you came prepared." Bonnie quipped suggestively, happily drinking up Damon in his boxers and slippers in a look that was downright sinful. Her green eyes settled intently on the front of his underwear – making the vampire assume that she wasn't about to pipe up and ask where he bought his clothes from, but rather her expressive eyes were quite blatant in what she wanted. Needed.
Bonnie Bennett licked her lips very slowly. Her eyes snapping back to his and swore he felt something audibly crack within his empty chest.
He needed to get out now before she does more funny things to his head, his brilliant blue eyes zoned onto the door frame that she was currently blocking – seriously contemplating jumping out the window to escape her hooded gaze. Bonnie knew this look and as if recognising his fight or flight clogs turning, she brusquely stalked like predator into the room and he couldn't look away, hypnotised by the natural sway of her hips and the sight of her bare thighs backing him into a corner with no chance of escape.
She was too close now.
"Bonnie." He growled, averting his eyes as she began to unbutton his large black shirt that seemed to engulf her figure.
He couldn't look.
"Damon." She mimicked back, enjoying the inner torment that battled behind his flickering eyelids. It was only till she released the final button that he sucked in a sharp breath when he felt her strong hand firmly grab his averted jaw, her fingers curling gently under his chin as she coaxed him to face her.
He dared a look.
"Don't fight it." She mouthed to him, his eyes darkening as he followed the shapes of her full parted lips.
His eyes slowly dragged down her lithe body, eyeing the gap in the shirt she just revealed to him, noting that she wasn't wearing a bra, the welcomed swell of her breasts and the smooth caramel tones of her taut stomach were all in his viewing pleasure, involuntarily making his mouth water and his fangs hum. Fingers briefly twitched as his eyes travelled to the apex of her thighs before landing on the lacy material that covered her sex.
His resolve was slipping and she was too close, impossibly close. It was suffocating.
"Just," she breathed, "One," she leant in, "Taste." Their lips touched, and his resolve was gone. She arched into him, breasts pressing flush against his bare chest as both breathed into the kiss. It wasn't a clash of lips, tongues and teeth or a fierce battle of dominance to see who could out do the other, it was a slow burning hunger that had manifested in the kiss that devoured both of them, the slow, controlled movements of their lips dictating the set pace, wanting to savour every single detail. The kiss tasted of freedom and adventure, of him wanting her and her needing him. She opened her mouth and Damon gladly delved in, his tongue coaxing hers in a dance that both didn't want to stop.
He brought his large hands to cup face, deepening the kiss even more, leaving him completely open to Bonnie's touches, an opportunity she couldn't pass up on. The trail she left burned him, igniting a heat in him that he couldn't understand, she started the fleeting touches at his built chest, travelling downwards to sensually grace his abdominals with her simple touch, travelling lower to follow the trail of coarse black hair that disappeared under an allusive pair of boxers. Her fingers playfully fiddled with the waistband of his boxers, before a hand disappeared underneath and –
Bonnie stopped suddenly and Damon groaned in protest, breaking their lip lock with a maddening curse, her hand only mere centimetres from where he begged to be touched the most. She threw her head over her shoulder to look at a long forgotten Stefan who was mesmerised by the scene in front of him.
"I hope you don't mind." She pouted apologetically, eyeing the door behind him.
As if snapped out of a trance Stefan nodded slowly in understanding, mouth still agape before edging his way out of the room and closing the door behind him, pen and paper in hand.
Stefan couldn't help but shed a tear.
He didn't mind at all.
Ciao!