Summary: "One photo tells a thousand different stories and, when Bonnie's at the end of the lense, she's a best selling novel." Stuck on Orignal-watch with only a camera to amuse himself with, Damon decides to turn Bonnie into his model for awhile. oneshot.
bonnie/damon.
Rating: Well, it gets a little steamy. If that kind of thing offends you- and if you're under the age of fifteen- don't read. And, well, if you do? Please don't complain to me about it. You've been warned.
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all i've got, all i've got, all i've got
are these photographs
it's nothing without you
-rihanna
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"Seriously, Damon? Put the stupid camera down and help me keep look out for Rebekah."
She sounds annoyed- but then, really, when doesn't she sound annoyed around him?- but there's a smile in her voice- a small smile, but a smile nonetheless- and a little less bite than he's become accustomed to. Huh.
Damon glances up from the camera in his hands and shoots her a cheeky grin.
"Jealous, Judgey?" he teases, pouting when she shakes her head in a negative and rolls her eyes at him.
They're in his car, parked a little outside of the boarding house behind a few trees- Bonnie's futile attempt at trying to be conspicuous- and are on 'Psycho barbie watch' as Damon has fondly taken to calling it.
Apparently, the blonde original doesn't take well to being mind-raped by 'worthless commoners'- Rebekah's words, not his- and now she's out for Damon's blood with a persistence that even he has to find admirable. She's a bit like a bulldog in that way; once she gets her teeth into something she just can't seem to let it go. Bothersome as it is, at least it's given him some measures of entertainment.
Damon and the rest of 'the gang' have decided to take shifts for look out- he had initially scoffed at the idea and insisted that he could fight his own battles, but Stefan had been determined- and, for some silly, extremely stupid reason, Bonnie and Damon had been drafted into the same shift.
The only plausible explanation he can seem to come up with is that his baby brother still isn't quite back to normal and is anticipating a blood bath of sorts. If so, he commends him for his smarts because, really, he's doubtful that both of them- if either- will come out of this alive.
"Why do you have a Polaroid camera anyway? Didn't they die out about the same time Stefan's sense of humor did?" she wonders, eyeing the contraption in his hands with caution. Seriously, what does she think he's going to do? Beat her to death with it? Damon rolls his eyes.
"I like them allot better than the digital crap. More reliable." he says nonchalantly, twirling the camera around his fingers.
Struck with sudden inspiration, he turns the lense onto Bonnie and snaps a picture. The witch squeals- possibly the girliest thing he thinks she's ever done around him before- when he does it, bats it away from her and glares at Damon when he begins to chortle loudly.
"You dick! That wasn't funny!" she whines, reaching out for the snap-shot in his hands.
Damon evades her with ease, stretching his arm up as far as the cars roof allows him to and waving the photo in the air. He thinks its cute how she begins to wiggle in her seat, reaching towards it with a determined glint in her eyes, while throwing threats of castration and other painful, quite frankly psychotic, means of maiming at him if he doesn't give it to her right this second.
"I like it," he muses, ignoring Bonnie when she begins to unclick her seat belt- why she's wearing it in the first place he doesn't know. It's not like they're going many places- as he contemplates the picture.
She's looking right at the camera in it and there's a small, barely perceptible, ghost of a smile curving her lips upwards. Her dark hair is disheveled from the number of times she's ran her hands through it in the past hour- whether in frustration, anger or exasperation he's not sure- but her eyes are shining and Damon thinks she actually looks kind of... pretty.
God, clearly the stress of this whole Orignal situation is taking it's tole on him if he's beginning to find the prudish little witch sat next to him attractive.
"Damon, give it!"
She's clambering towards him- he says 'clambering' because, though his car is hot as hell, there's not really allot of room to be moving around in it- and he doesn't realize how close she's gotten until she's literally right there, practically straddling his lap. Damon blinks, astonished that she's willing to get so close to him, but Bonnie seems oblivious to his shock.
Tongue poking out of the side of her mouth slightly, she puts both hands on Damon's knees and balances herself on his lap, hand reaching towards the snapshot. A small crow of triumph escapes her as she snatches it out of Damon's hands- he lets her, okay?- and she grins down at him.
"Ha! Take that you narcissistic pain in the- ugh!"
Damon's hands shoot out automatically to steady her when she begins to slip from his lap. His hands rest lightly on either side of her waist- he's surprised to find that she actually has curves under all of the many layers of clothes she wears- and he tries to ignore how her pulse is throbbing against her neck, all but begging him to take a closer look and that her heart is thumping so hard that he absently wonders if it might explode. Her fingers are digging into his biceps- it doesn't hurt, but it sure does make him feel something- and, when he glances up at her face, she's looks mortified, cheeks rosy and pink.
She looks... delicious.
"You were saying?" he inquires, voice scratchy and deep.
Bonnie's clearly as afflicted by the intimacy of the position they're in as he is, and appears out of sorts as she glares down at him half-heartily.
"I was saying," she mumbles huskily, cheeks flushing deeper when she catches his eyes "that you are a narcissistic pain in the ass, and that I win."
"You win what, Bonnie?" he questions, eyes trained on her lips.
He should be feeling guilty about this, something inside of him points out, Bonnie is Elena's best friend for christs sake, but with the little witches breath catching when she takes notice of the blatant desire in his eyes, he just can't seem to feel anything other than anticipation, maybe even excrement.
It's dark outside- somebody will be coming to take their place soon, he knows- and he silently thanks the heavens for his impeccable vampire vision as he watches Bonnie catch her bottom lip between her teeth. She shakes her head, chuckling softly.
"Peace," she says quietly, "I win peace."
Maybe there's a deeper meaning to her words than Damon realizes but right then, with Bonnie starting to slide off his lap, all he's aware of is how her body is touching him in all the right places and that, holy shit, it feels good. So good, in fact, that his hand shoots out again- gripping her arm and pulling her back onto his lap. Bonnie lets out a small yelp and swats at him.
"What are you doing, Damon?" she demands- not angry, exactly, but certainly confused.
He closes his eyes tightly when she begins to wiggle around- getting into a more comfortable position?- and fights back the urge to groan when she rubs against him.
"I have a proposition for you," he says tightly, eyes still closed.
Bonnie stops moving- her legs are situated on either side of his thighs, and he seriously doesn't understand how she isn't as affected as he obviously is, she has her palms on his shoulders, resting as little of her weight on him as she can- and he can hear the slight stutter of her heart in response to his words.
Huh. Maybe the little witch isn't as immune to the blatant sexual tension in the air as he had originally thought.
"Proposition?" she asks warily.
Damon nods, re-opening his eyes. The first thing he notices is that Bonnie's even redder than before- and, fuck, if it doesn't make him wonder just how far that flush goes beyond the hem of her shirt- and that, as he shifts and brushes against her, her eyes grow wide when she feels the bulge in his jeans.
She swallows, "What kind of... proposition?"
"None that would compromise you're virtue, Miss Bennett, I assure you." he promises with a smirk, winking at her.
Bonnie glares and swats at his shoulder, flushing deeper, "You wish, Damon. Now, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Pose for me," he says and, as if they've been doing it forever, his hands begin to slide up her back, stopping only when they reach the witches petite shoulders.
His fingers stroke the tips of her hair softly, reverently, and Damon has to resist the urge to groan when Bonnie lets out a small, reluctant, mewl of pleasure, "Pose for me and then I'll leave you in peace."
"I don't understand." her voice is soft, whispy- apparently, he's managed to find her weak spot and, shit, he doesn't think he's ever found anything more erotic than when she closes her eyes, teeth re-capturing her bottom lip as he continue to stroke the tails of her hair.
"I like how the camera captures you," he says softly. And it's the truth- one photo tells a thousand different stories and, when Bonnie's at the end of the lense, she's a best selling novel. Her eyes snap open and, suddenly, she's looking at him at and he's looking at her and, christ, are they having a moment?
"Okay," she tells him after a beat, green eyes as pleasant as he's ever seen them, "But you have to... tell me what to do. I'm no model, after all."
She laughs at her own words, shaking her head again. Damon doesn't understand what's so funny- her smile is private, clearly enjoying some sort of inside joke. He shrugs.
"Well, first thing's first, you're going to have to get off my lap."
Bonnie snorts at the smirk in his voice, slapping his shoulder again. She shoots him a look that clearly says; don't push it, and moves off of him, careful not to touch anything she shouldn't be touching on her way off. As he watches her climb back into the passengers seat and begin to comb her fingers through her hair, fluffing it slightly, Damon wonders if things between Bonnie and him will ever be the same again.
Before hand, their relationship had mainly existed around the basis of him killing her family members and her inflicting pain on him by murdering his brain cells. Animosity, fury and pain was what they were used to feeling around one another, but now? Now he doesn't know what he feels towards her.
That scares him, a bit.
"Okay, I'm ready."
Damon blinks, fumbles with the camera and points it in her direction. She looks at it, awkwardly, and waits for him to instruct her.
"Remember, this is just a bit of fun to pass the time," he says, attempting to make his voice soothing. He's not so sure how well it works though- soothing isn't really his thing. Snarky? No problem. Soothing? Yeah, not so much.
Bonnie pins him with a doubtful stare, "We aren't supposed to be having fun. We're supposed to be keeping look out for Rebekah."
She sounds anxious and, in a move he supposes is reflex more than anything else, glances out the window.
Damon snaps a picture of her.
"Hey! I wasn't ready that time!" she complains, shooting him a baleful glare.
"So? It was a good picture." he replies, taking the snapshot out of the camera and showing it to Bonnie.
She looks like one of those actresses out of the sixties in it; all worried frowns and pouty lips. Damon thinks she looks perfect.
"Okay, Mr Paparazzi," she sighs, placing the picture on the dashboard, "Since you're the expert, what next?"
Damon pretends to think about it.
"Do you remember the time barbie decided to use the boarding house as her stomping ground after she and Tyler had an argument?"
She nods her head, a grin tugging her lips up at the corners.
"Yes! And then Stefan came in asking if she 'could please keep the noise down since he was trying to read' and she jumped on him!"
Bonnie laughs.
Damon snaps another shot.
"Damon!" she's trying to calm herself down, but small hiccups of laughter keep breaking free from her chest, "Stop doing that!"
He waves her off and glances down at the photo, a triumphant smile forming on his face when he catches sight of it. She looks radiant; emerald eyes throwing sparks, lips parted slightly as she giggles. The picture couldn't have came out better if he'd tried.
"You would make a great model." he comments absently, fingers lightly brushing the surface of the photo.
Bonnie blushes and shakes her head.
"No I wouldn't," she protests, "I'm not like Caroline and Elena. They're naturally photogenic- I'm not."
She's serious, he realizes after a moment, deadly serious. Damon shoots her an incredulous stare. He had pinned Bonnie Bennett for a lot of things and, okay, yes, the majority of them weren't exactly flattering- but deluded had never been one of them.
"Take it from someone who used to be a photographer in his spare time back in the twenties," he says, eyes on the camera, "You're not half bad at this posing stuff, Bennett."
And then, before she has a chance to comment and make him feel even more conflicted than he already does, he snaps his fingers at her impatiently and rolls his eyes.
"Now stop your whining and blow the camera a damn kiss."
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It's at least another half an hour before anyone comes to swap with them.
Bonnie's propped back against car door, feet on the dashboard, moseying through the pictures. She laughs at some of them, furrows her eyebrows at others, but mainly has this complicated look on her face that he doesn't understand as she looks at them. Damon watches her from the corner of his eye, fingers drumming a random tune on the steering wheel. He's trying hard to not think about what things are going to be like between them when they leave this car. Self-righteous as she is, he hadn't expected Bonnie Bennett to be so... Fun.
And, much as it surprises him, he realizes that he's going to be sad to see their shift end.
Huh.
"So, were you really a photographer in the twenties?" she doesn't look at him as she asks this, makes sure her voice is flat, but Damon knows she's burning up with curiosity.
He shoots her a smirk and nods, "Yup. A well sought after photographer too, by the by."
Bonnie's voice is soft, wistful as she says, "It shows." and then puts the snapshots in one neat pile, placing them carefully on the dashboard.
She turns to Damon, a small smile curving her mouth. "So, what name did you go by?"
Ah. It figures that she would ask him something like that.
Damon laughs.
"I wasn't very original," he admits, "Damien Smith was the name I went with for most of the decade. I changed it if I needed to, but," he shrugs. "Most of the time it just wasn't necessary."
And, if he's honest, he hated that he had to change his name in the first place. There's perks to being a vampire, sure, but having identity crisis' every other decade is certainly not one of them.
"Can I take a picture?" she asks, inclining her head towards his camera, "You never know- maybe I'm destined to follow in the famous 'Damien Smiths' footsteps."
Damon chuckles when she winks at him, surprised at the blatant lack of animosity she's directing towards him. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he hands the camera to her.
"Careful," he warns, watching her as she cradles it carefully in her palms, "I've had that for... a long time."
Bonnie nods her head and smiles.
"Come here a minute." she demands, quirking a finger at him. Damon arches a brow.
"Why?" he asks cautiously, eyeing her with mistrust.
She rolls her eyes and huffs at him, "Just come!"
He moves towards her slowly, conflicted with what he wants to do and what he thinks he should do. They've had a nice time together, but that doesn't mean he's willing to let Bonnie harm him without putting up a fight. When he's just a few inches away from her, Bonnie grabs him by the collar of his shirt- clearly impatient- and tugs him closer.
"This is how my generation takes pictures." she informs him with a grin.
Then she presses a kiss to his cheek and Damon hears the familiar click of the shutter button being pressed. He blinks; once, twice, three times over.
"What-"
The car door opens and Caroline's blonde head appears beside Bonnie. She's smiling, but there's a wary glint in her eyes as she contemplates them both. She's probably wondering why they're both still alive and not decorated in each others blood. Honestly, that makes two of them.
"Hey, you guys! Stefan and I are supposed to take over now?" she smiles at them, flashing teeth.
Damon glares back at her.
Bonnie laughs at the sour expression on his face, pats his cheek in such a condescending way that he actually blinks again, and whispers;
"Swapsies. You get to keep the picture I took and I get to keep the pictures you took."
She throws her snapshot onto his lap and scoops up the others as she gets out of the car. Damon follows suit; clutching the photograph in his hand, he sidles out of the car and ignores Stefan when he mutters, "About time."
Honestly, his brother is such a little bitch sometimes.
He wants to talk to Bonnie- god knows why, it's not like he hasn't been stuck in a car with her for over two hours or anything- but she's already in her car and reversing out of the drive way by the time he catches sight of her.
She doesn't wave at him on her way past.
"Well," he mumbles to himself, making his way back into the house, "That's the end of that.'
He doesn't know why he's so sad at the thought of not talking to Bonnie again like before, but he is.
He really is.
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He ignores Elena- which surprises both himself and her- and brushes off her attempts to make conversation, instead opting to go up to his room and sulk like the teenage boy he isn't. He lays on his bed and listens to her moving around downstairs for awhile, staring at the ceiling.
Why is Bonnie Bennett stuck on his mind?
He growls, flops onto his stomach and buries his head into his pillow.
He shouldn't be feeling as conflicted as he is- She's a witch, he's a vampire and, as cliched and over-used as the idea is, they really are destined to hate each other. And anyway, it's not like both he and Bonnie hadn't been fine with hating each other before tonight.
So, why the insomnia and sulking?
Downstairs, Elena finally decides to stop wearing a hole in the carpet and sits down.
Damon sighs in relief.
He reaches into his back pocket, digs out the photograph and examines it critically, eyes narrowed. He doesn't look like himself in it; his hair is too mused, eyes too wide and trusting, skin too flushed. In contrast, Bonnie is the picture of calmness; eyes closed as she presses her lips against his cheek, mouth curved into a tiny smile.
Damon flinches because, shit, they look like an actual couple or something. Unbelievable.
He reaches towards his bedside table, a small, reluctant smile on his lips, and grabs his cell. He scrolls through his contacts, stopping when he reaches Bonnie's number, and types up a hasty message.
Damien Smith would be impressed.
He presses 'send' after reading over it a few times and places the phone on his bed. The response comes less than a minute later.
Duh. Bitch has nothing on me.
He doesn't realize he's grinning until his cheeks start to ache from the fierceness of it. He glances around the room- you know, just in case anyone had snuck in without him noticing- and quickly wipes the smile off of his face, slumping back against the pillows again.
There really is more than meets the eye where Bonnie Bennett is concerned and, oddly enough...
...Damon finds himself yearning to figure her out.
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a/n:
Repost alert, everyone, repost!
So, basically, I haven't been on this site in ages and took a notion to delete all of my stories from here. A round of applause for the genious over here! *facepalm*
Anyway, I was looking through my old files and found this. Thought I'd repost it since, omg, BAMON FEELS. They need to happen, the just need to.
Please review if you liked this, and I'll see what I can do to get another one up! Your comments are my motivation guys;)
Also, favourites and subscribes would also be lovely:*
thanks for reading!
Courtney x