author's note: BonKai is seriously giving me life. Here's a short drabble that I wrote at 3 in the morning... because I like embarrassing myself. I suppose I should warn though: you are probably going to be disappointed.
hate is just another word.
Bonnie hates Kai.
"Honey, I'm home!" Kai chuckles, slamming the front door behind him, loudly. The deep breathy chuckle as a glaring evidence of his self-appreciation makes her roll her eyes. "I crack myself up." He announces, throwing a wink her way as he saunters into the kitchen with her following behind.
Against her better judgment, she starts a conversation. "Where have you been?"
He leans against the counter, tearing open a fresh packet of pork rinds. "Is that concern I detect, Bon-bon?"
She scoffs. "Just making sure it was safe for me to sleep without keeping one eye open."
He guffaws at this. Apparently, he finds humour in a statement that she made sincerely. He doesn't answer, though.
"Well?" She stares at him, impatiently.
He looks around him before staring back. "Am I missing a packet of pork rinds? I swear I kept it here in the morning."
She flails her arms upwards in irritation. So much for having a conversation. Turning back, she walks towards the living room. It's a miracle how she has survived in his presence for so long. Six months. It's been six months since Damon left with an unspoken promise of rescuing her from this constant, monotonous limbo – yet, here she is: trapped with a sociopath who alternates between stabbing her and refusing to engage in civil conversations with her.
But that's not even the scariest part.
For some 'trapped-in-Kai-Parker's-hell' reason, she craves it. She craves the unusual routine they had developed of stabbing each other in a weird cat-and-mouse chase. She craves the tangential digression that he brings in their conversations. Just like his present yapping which she had, so far, managed to tune out.
"...It's quite a no-brainer, really. Scar totally had the upper hand. Mufasa should've known better."
She couldn't believe his analysis of The Lion King. Sociopath.
"You can't be serious. You just spoiled a classic." She looks at him incredulously.
Kai shrugs, plopping down on the couch and wiping his fingers on his jeans-clad thighs. "I am. It makes perfect sense."
"For someone like you to side with Scar? You definitely got that right, Malachai." She throws back, irritated. His eyes take a darker hue, but apart from that, his face retains its obnoxious smirk. She can't help hitting his sore spots. He fucking deserves it, she thinks. If someone told her a year ago that she would find herself in the company of sociopath – an abomination – she would have roared in laughter.
But now – as he gets up and traps her against the wall with his slow forwards steps and her subsequent backward ones – she's not too sure what she should do.
Laugh at him? She disagrees, seeing his menacing face so close to hers.
Run from him? She disagrees, seeing how he caged her in with both of his palms resting on the wall she's leaning against.
Kiss him? His forehead is terrifyingly close to hers; their heads angled such that their gazes alternate between each other's lips and eyes. She agrees.
And so their lips glide over each other. She's not sure who initiated the kiss, but she doesn't want to have that conversation now.
His hands grip her waist tightly, as he grinds his hips against hers.
She moans. She runs her fingers through his hair, tousling it with her ministrations. Fuck, he feels so good.
He answers by biting her lower lip, making her gasp. He doesn't bother waiting before immediately plunging his tongue into her mouth.
He tastes like pork rinds – oddly, so does she. He knew that he was missing a packet.
Their tongues mingle and mesh together, creating an inexcusable need for air. He pulls back first, his eyes closed for a second more than hers. They breathe audibly, trying to gather their wits about them as much as they can.
He casts her penetrating stare, eyes clouded with blatant lust when all of a sudden – poof! the moment disappears. He steps back, removing his hands from her waist.
She is confused – her face conveys the same. She is still reeling from the moment: the whole what-the-fuck-happened and the fuck-I-just-kissed-Kai emotions.
But he has other plans.
He grins widely, flashing those pearly whites. (How could someone that bad have such good teeth? she often wondered) Walking back, he moves away from her. Just as he stands at the foot of the stairs, he announces. "Nighty-night, Bon-bon. Don't let the Scars bite." He sing-songs his contorted version of the popular phrase while walking up the stairs towards Damon's bedroom.
She understands his joke. (Could she even call it a joke?) The psychopath just played her.
"Ugh." She grunts like a petulant child, beyond pissed at his blasé attitude. He hears her response and responds a second later with – surprise, surprise – a laugh that resonated through the house.
She hates him.
Bonnie hates Kai.
Bonnie hates Kai – but she is not sure whether it's because of the kiss or because she liked it.
an: ...was it remotely okay?