DAY FOUR
"So, first of all," Bonnie says as she rounds the corner into the kitchen, "All the bedrooms in this place are tragically old fashioned, even by nineties standards. If I'm going to be staying in one for an extended period of time, there's going to be some redecorating happening. Second, I need new clothes." She pauses as she takes in the sight of Damon across the room, shirtless and making pancakes. "And there should probably be a rule in this house about you not walking around half naked," she gives him a pointed look before taking a seat.
"Oh, please, don't act like you aren't enjoying the view," Damon counters, pointing the spatula he's holding in her direction.
"Yeah, sure," Bonnie rolls her eyes, though if she's being entirely honest with herself, she's seen much worse. Still, it's Damon and there's only so much of him she'd like to see on a daily basis. "Just don't make it a habit."
"Why? Afraid you won't be able to resist me if I keep it up?" he smirks at the frown that settles on her face. "You don't have to pretend, Bon-Bon. Secret's safe with me."
There's also only so much of his bantering Bonnie can take this early in the morning, and she wonders how she's going to stand living in the same space as him for however long it takes for her to find a way out. It's only been four days and she's already on the verge of strangling him, if only to get him to stop flirting with her. Part of her suspects it's his attempt to try to keep things light and focus on anything other than the fact that they're trapped in a completely isolated world that's lacking in people save for the two of them. Possibly for eternity.
"So no objections to a makeover on the room I'm staying in, then?" she skirts around the topic at hand, subtly trying to maneuver it back into territory that's neutral. "I was planning to see what I could find in some of the stores."
"A little B and E with a side of theft after breakfast," Damon makes an approving sound, "I like it."
Bonnie chooses to ignore him, instead focusing on the plate of pancakes he brings over to her - complete with an irritating face made of whipped cream that has fangs. Glancing up, she purses her lips.
"I don't like pancakes," she reminds him, pushing the plate away. "I've told you that already. More than once."
"And I'm choosing to ignore your poor taste in breakfast food," Damon pushes the plate back, making a tsking sound at her. "Eat."
Bonnie stabs the middle of the smiling face in response to the command, imagining it as Damon's, leaving her fork standing right between the blueberries eyes. Glaring at him, she pushes back her chair, food untouched aside from her small display of aggression against it.
"I'd rather starve."
"Tell me again why you had to come with me?" Bonnie asks as she flips through the racks of clothes in the boutique they found - or rather, that Damon had remembered existed, mainly due to the vivacious and adventurous redhead who had worked there in 1994 - a story she could definitely have done without having heard. "I'm literally just getting clothes and stuff for my room. Nothing exciting."
"Beats staying at home alone," he shrugs, holding out a crop top in a deep green for her appraisal. "You should definitely try this on."
"Or I could find something that covers me up a bit more," Bonnie counters, not wanting him to know she actually likes his suggestion. It's cute, even if it would show a little more skin than she's completely fine with having bared around him, and she makes a mental note to see if she can find a way to sneak it home without him noticing. To wear when she's not around him, of course.
"Suit yourself," he says, attention back on the clothes in front of him.
Bonnie watches him for a moment as he looks at each shirt just briefly enough to push it to the side, clearly finding them lacking. Damon looks so at ease doing it, she can't help but wonder how often he went shopping with Elena. Or any of the other women who may have been in his life before. It makes her uncomfortable how normal it is, like they're actually friends. Like he actually wants to be there.
Damon makes a triumphant sound that breaks into her thoughts as he holds up another shirt. It's almost the same color as the crop top, just a little brighter. And this time it has a plunging neckline that makes one of her eyebrows raise as she shakes her head.
"No," Bonnie tells him firmly. "If you want to help, stop picking things like," she pauses as she waves a hand toward the shirt, "that."
"It was worth a try." Damon smirks at her before turning away, now occupied with a row of short skirts that make her want to give them all an automatic veto, just to save herself from having to listen to anything he might have to say about her wearing them.
Thankfully he says nothing, allowing her to continue her shopping in peace.
By the time she's finished, Bonnie has a fairly good sized haul of what she likes to deem the less horrific side to early nineties fashion. Enough that she won't be stuck wearing the same outfit every day, and if she gets tired of them, she can always come back and get more. Though the prospect of being stuck here long enough to get tired of the collection she's just gotten her hands on depresses her somewhat.
The mood lingers with her all the way to the department store on the other side of town, making her unresponsive when Damon tries to get a rise out of her with a comment she barely hears as she exits the car, closing the door firmly behind her to block out the question that follows.
Just like the boutique, the store is open. This time automatic doors slide open wordlessly, allowing her entrance, rather than her having to test the door to see if it's locked.
"So much for breaking and entering. This isn't nearly as fun as smashing windows to get inside would be," Damon mutters from close behind her, and Bonnie wishes he had stayed in the car.
"Yeah, well, no one asked you to come," she points out, following the signs that lead to the bath and bedroom section, fully intent on doing her best at ignoring he's even there. Especially since her drop in mood makes her more irritable than usual.
"No, but did you really want to carry all your spoils home by yourself?" he asks.
Which shuts her up because maybe she had gotten a little carried away at the boutique, like she's probably going to in this store as well. Not bothering to respond, Bonnie busies herself looking at pillowcases. The cheap jersey kind that, when she turns to look at Damon, has him watching her with a disapproving expression on his face.
"You're not seriously thinking about getting those," the disdain in his voice is unmistakable, like he's thoroughly beneath nine dollar pillowcases. "You're not even paying for them, at least go somewhere a little more high class and get something better."
"I like these just fine, thank you," Bonnie tells him matter of factly, a bite to the words. "It's not like you'll be sleeping on them, so what do you care?"
"Your bad taste offends me, is all," Damon sighs, then shrugs, waving a hand at the wall of sheets and pillowcases in front of them. "But by all means, continue. Don't let me stop you."
"Don't worry, I won't," Bonnie shoots him a sweet and completely insincere smile before tucking a matching set into the crook of her arm, silently cursing herself for having been so set on ignoring Damon in the first place that she'd forgotten to get a shopping cart.
Then, in the amount of time it takes her to pause in front of a truly terrifying comforter before glancing back to see if he's still following her, Damon appears at the very end of the aisle, pushing a cart with a squeaky wheel that makes her cringe. A complaint is on the tip of her tongue, but she bites her bottom lip instead to keep herself from making a snide comment about his choice. That'll get them nowhere but another cycle of bickering that will only make her head hurt.
"You're welcome," he says, coming to a stop close enough for her to toss the two items she's selected so far in.
Bonnie clenches her jaw at the implication. That he assumes she wasn't going to thank him for getting a cart so she wouldn't have to try and carry everything in her arms. She's fairly sure she would have, once she got over the spike of irritation the squeaky wheel causes her to experience each time it moves. Maybe eighty percent sure. All the same, she lets her anger replace the sadness she'd felt creep in earlier.
It makes her refuse to say thank you on principle as she stalks away.
"You've got to be joking." Damon is staring at the shower curtain in her hand with a scandalized expression that makes it so Bonnie has to fight a smile.
"Look, you can have your bathroom look any way you want. I like a little vibrancy in my life," she says breezily as she deposits the offending item into the cart. "You stick to your parts of the house, I'll stick to mine. Easy as that. You won't even have to look at it."
Truth be told, this excursion has taught her at least one thing about Damon. He hates brightly colored, cheap accessories for the home, and Bonnie has to admit she's been picking out certain items just for the sheer fun of listening to him bitch about how she's going to ruin his home. At one point he'd even felt the need to tell her that a certain peppy, vampire barbie they both knew wouldn't even stoop so low as some of these purchases. To which Bonnie had just shrugged.
Now, she's got a cart full of things she doesn't exactly hate but probably wouldn't have chosen if he wasn't there with her.
"That's it," Damon tells her, stepping in front of the cart so Bonnie has no choice but to stop moving. "Time to go home. I refuse to watch another travesty go in there from this place."
"Move," she tells him, pushing the cart forward so it hits him. Immovable vampire force that he is, it doesn't do much. "If you hate this so much, run home, leave me the car, and I'll come back when I'm ready."
Damon narrows his eyes at her and Bonnie can practically hear the wheels turning in his mind as he contemplates doing just that.
"It's not even your car, so what's the harm?" she prompts, backing the cart up so she can simply go a different route through the store. He doesn't try to stop her, but a glance over her shoulder tells her he's following her all the same.
"Where are you going now?" Damon asks instead of answering.
"I'm adding to your movie collection," Bonnie tells him, not stopping until she's swung the cart in the electronics section, slowly making her way past the rows of VHS tapes, stopping only when a particular title catches her eye. Grinning, she grabs it off the shelf and turns to wave it in Damon's direction.
He sighs, shaking his head as he says, "Do not expect me to watch that with you. It's just not going to happen."
Bonnie doesn't even try to stop the grin from spreading into a full fledged smile.
Author's Note: These are all going to be written for various prompts for different points during the four months Bonnie and Damon were trapped in the prison world before Kai's arrival. This is sort of a test to see if anyone is even interested in this and/or if I'm even doing a good job because this is my first time writing Bamon anything. This chapter's prompt was breaking in. Loosely interpreted, obviously.