Note: A little fluffy romantic holiday present for all you Bonnie stans and Klonnie shippers. Enjoy :)
"For being centuries old you can whine like a baby," Bonnie swept some mascara on her lashes and leaned back for a look. The new dull-gold eyeshadow looked perfect against her warm brown skin.
She could hear her irate boyfriend pacing outside the bathroom door, "I'm not whining, Bonnie, I'm merely cynical about Rebekah's misbegotten desire to play Martha Stew just because she and Stefan are shacking up."
"Martha Stewart."
"What?"
"It's Martha Stewart," she lowered her mascara wand, "And she survived prison-time, so I wouldn't be talking down about her."
"Whatever the case, merry Yuletide meals aren't exactly a family tradition."
And that's when she caught the faint bitterness in his voice. She'd felt it all month, that undercurrent of anger and resentment as Rebekah's family Christmas dinner grew closer and closer.
Bonnie zipped up her makeup purse and lowered her voice "Did you guys celebrate Christmas, I mean Yule, before-?"
Silence welled from the other side of the door and she wondered if she'd made a mistake. His parents were still an open wound for Klaus in many ways.
She wheeled around, hand on the doorknob, when she heard his voice all quiet and carefully modulated, an effort she now recognized as masking the scars beneath, "Mikael would take Elijah and Kol hunting, so I would stay and help my mother and Rebekah. He said it was just another example of my unmanliness."
It was hard, it was always hard, to know what to say or do when Klaus talked about Mikael. Bonnie's relationship with her parents were lukewarm at best, but she'd never suffered years of abuse, or lived centuries with the shadow of rejection looming over her.
"You know," she started turning the knob, "the good thing about Yuletide, or Christmas, is that it's bringing something new, and leaving the old behind." She stepped out, brushing some lint off her heather-grey sweater dress, "I know it's hard but, I think Rebekah is trying to look to the future. And sometimes, whether we're human or vampire, hope is all we have."
Klaus turned from his spot at the window as she walked out. Slowly, as his eyes took her in, his expression shifted like shadows beneath water. The deep frown softened until it was almost a smile, the brooding darkness left his eyes to reveal the clear, careless, devilish glint she associated quintessentially with Klaus. She did a little spin so he could take her in, the dress clung to her in all the right places, warm but snug and shapely.
He closed the distance between them and brushed a hand across her week, pushing away the wave of dark curls. She could tell from the pleased smile that he'd seen the earrings: exquisite little sapphire drops he'd gifted her for her birthday.
Bonnie put a hand on his chest, "I know this is all strange but, I think Rebekah's really trying. You're still here, Mikael isn't, and that's something to celebrate."
Before she could protest he'd picked her up and she was forced to wrap her arms around his neck for support, "Klaus, we're already late," she tried to sound stern, even though the look in his eyes and the dimpled, impish smile was already making her stomach do flip-flops and the back of her neck flush warm.
"I'm sure Elijah's already there, punctilious bloke that he is," he nuzzled her hair and placed soft kisses along her cheekbone, walking carefully towards the bed as he did so, "and you smell delicious."
"My makeup took forty five minutes."
"This will only take ten."
"Klaus!"
"Have I ever told you," he paused at the foot of the bed to lean his forehead against hers, and her heartbeat sped up even more. They'd been dating for almost six months now and things were powerful and complex and sometimes so-deep-it-took-her-breath-away between them, but they'd never actually said The Three Words. "how much I love hearing my name on your lips."
Was it relief or disappointment that stabbed her? Both?
"No," she wriggled out of his arms to stand in front of him, pulling the dress down over her hips, "but you can tell me on the car ride over - "
Breath left her as her back hit the bed, hair spreading every which way while he crawled over her, that teasing grin on his lips, though his eyes were sobre and contemplative, like she might vanish any second. Her own smile faded as he lowered his mouth to hers, and the spicy cool scent of his cologne hit her, and her own heartbeat grew intoxicating, and suddenly the painstakingly applied lipstick didn't seem so important, "Let me show you first."