"She recognized that this is how friendships begin: one person reveals a moment of strangeness, and the other person decides just to listen and not exploit it." - Meg Wolitzer
Damon didn't particularly enjoy being alone with Bonnie Bennett, not when she was so focused. He couldn't bother her when she was trying to find a way to help someone. Nevertheless, a strong part of him wanted to bother her because, well, it's not like it was Elena who was being helped.
It was just Tyler. Something about a sire bond or other.
Bonnie needed the Salvatore's bookshelves. Damon was happy to oblige. He needed someone to take his sarcasm out on, someone that he could verbally spar with.
Stefan and Elena were less and less amused by him daily and had, therefore, become boring in the sense of entertaining the demon on his shoulder - this demon on his left shoulder had murdered the angel on his right for shits and giggles when Damon was forty-seven. Needless to say, he needed Bonnie to amuse the beast.
"Bon Bon, can I ask you something?"
Bonnie glared from the top of a book that read Dear, Diary, I am Emily Bennett and I wear a bonnet.
Or something like that.
"Leave me alone." Her focus returned to the book. "And don't call me Bon Bon."
He leaned forward in his chair, hands resting on his knees. "Not even if I let you call me Hot Stuff?"
She snorted.
He smiled, victorious.
"What about Dr. Hot Bod? Or..." His grin widened. "Older, Sexy, Danger Guy."
She still refused to give him the satisfaction of looking at him. "Cute, he knows how to compel."
"Blondie doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut. I know everything about you that she knows."
"Now, now. Lying doesn't suit you. Brotherly betrayal is a little more your area."
With Bonnie, usually Damon could do a quick back and forth. However, mentioning his relationship with Elena caught him off guard to say the least.
"Judging...for the umpteenth time."
"Umpteenth. Learn that in your hundred plus years of living, pedophile?"
Damon scoffed. "Oh, common, witch. You're only judging me. I think that you should be a little bit nicer. Spread your judging to the general populous...like Stefan."
Bonnie smirked. "You're both creepy. But at least he is technically legal by vampire standards. Aren't you supposed to be in your late twenties?"
"Early twenties," he corrected. "I suppose I should feel special that you only treat me this horribly."
"Says the ass that basically killed my grandma and almost killed me, too, because he couldn't handle his feelings."
He leaned back in the chair and grabbed his blood-filled glass. "Your words wound me, really, they do. I think you left out the part about me killing your little boyfriend, though. I would think that was noteworthy."
"Remind me to put a post-it-note on your fridge congratulating you. Nice job failing in actually killing Jeremy, he came back anyways...Love, Bonnie."
Damon laughed. The witch had bested him.
He just had to make a mental note to banter with her more often. He was out of shape in the insults department.
"You know, witch, the more you speak, the more you remind me of myself."
"I'm you? Disgusting thought."
He took a sip from the glass and smirked. "Don't flatter yourself."
Bonnie's bored eyes found his amused ones. "Just stop talking to me. Unlike you, I have important things to do."
"Just one last thing. Pretty, please?"
Her eyes moved across the pages of the book. Damon took that as a yes.
He would have taken a no as a yes, anyway.
"If one were to...waste his precious time on making funeral arrangements..." He paused, reconsidering his words. "Let me rephrase that. How do you want your funeral to be?"
That caught her attention. She looked at him with suspicious eyes. "I'm not dying anytime soon, especially at your hands." She said the word like it was an infection.
"Well, you're not a vampire, Bon Bon, you're gonna die sooner or later."
She scoffed. "With any luck you'll die before me so I won't have to deal with you."
"How sad."
"And you want to make my funeral arrangements?"
He finished his drink, pondering. "Maybe, I haven't decided."
"Well, would you be able to turn me into a bird?"
Slowly, Damon's eyes moved to focus on Bonnie. "A bird."
"Well then, you can't make my funeral arrangements."
Damon's eyes narrowed. "You want to become a bird when you die?"
He's not even human, Bonnie thought, not even in a Stefan way. Saying things to him doesn't matter because he is a disturbed carcass that walks among the living. "Yeah."
Damon nodded, approvingly. "That's not as stupid as I thought it was going to be."
"Here's to hoping you die before me," she mumbled, returning to her book.