This story has been posted already at AO3, but the Bamon fandom seems a bit more active on so I thought I'd go ahead and repost it here (even though I haven't updated a story on this site since 2014, jfc).
Think of this first chapter as a sort of prologue; every chapter afterward will have 3-4 short, drabbly scenes because I'm too lazy to write everything out. Hope you enjoy!
i.
It was the fourth time Bonnie had left the boarding house in the three weeks since she and Damon landed in this hell dimension. This time, she thought, tracing patterns in the condensation that her glass left on the Grille's bar, it would stick. She hoped.
The sound of crunching glass pulled her out of her thoughts. She didn't bother to turn, just rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her drink. "Go away, Damon." "Witty" comment in three, two, one…
"You've made a mess, Bon-Bon. Didn't know you had it in you." She could just hear the smirk in his voice, and when she swiveled around she can see it, too, along with the mess he's talking about. The Mystic Grille's doors were locked, so she'd thrown a rock through them to get in. Wasn't like there was anyone there to complain.
Right then, she felt like throwing her shot glass at Damon. "Go away," she said again. "I came here to be alone. As in away from you."
Damon nodded, his lips pursed, and crossed his arms. "What if I say I'm sorry?"
God, he could never just apologize, could he? But that was a start for him, so she half-shrugged. "Then I won't throw this at you," said Bonnie, tipping her glass vaguely in his direction.
"Could you even throw in a straight line right now?" Damon asked, raising an eyebrow. "How many of those have you had?"
"A lot." Not too many, she didn't think, but enough that everything was blurry at the edges and she wasn't sure standing up was a good idea.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Still. I shouldn't have said that, earlier."
Not quite an apology, but close enough. Bonnie shrugged again. It was hard to stay mad at him when he was all she had, and she wanted to tell him the thing she'd just realized, sitting at the bar. "You're safe for now."
Damon took the barstool next to hers, but didn't reach for a drink. Bonnie poured herself another one to make up for that. "You know what I think the problem is? It's this town. This fucking town." She propped her elbow on the bar, turning towards him. "We should leave. Just take a car and—and go."
"Hell is hell, Witchy. Doesn't matter what part of it we're in."
"You would say that. You've got some kind of sick…thing for this town." She waved her glass for emphasis; she still hadn't gotten around to drinking it yet, and tequila speckled Damon's shirt. "I always thought I'd get to travel, you know? Thought I'd study abroad after college or something, maybe. But instead I've been stuck here, dealing with all this magical, vampire-y bullshit."
"You always talk this dirty when you're drunk?"
She ignored him. "I want to get out, Damon. We might be stuck here, but I don't want to be stuck in this shitty town anymore."
Damon leaned back against the bar, legs sprawled so that his thigh brushed her knee. She resisted the childish urge to thump him. She expected a snarky remark; what she got instead was, "When do we leave?"
Bonnie frowned; she hadn't expected him to just agree. Practical thought hadn't gone into this one, really. Bonnie didn't even know where she wanted to go, besides just…away. Out.
"As soon as I'm sober," she said, and downed the rest of her tequila.