A/N: I hope you all are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it! I know that Bonnie and Peter are a crackship, but I can't seem to get enough of them!
I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, OR THE CHARACTERS.
Chapter Two:
I wiped down the counters, stove top, and dining room table, while I waited on Peter to come back with the wine. It didn't take me nearly as long as I thought it would.
I washed my hands and set up the TV in the living room. Since it's a smart TV, there wasn't a whole lot to do. The cable guy isn't coming until next week, but we have Netflix and I have a massive movie collection, so I'm not really worried. I found the box of throw pillows and set them on the couch. The throw blankets were in the box next to it.
I was moving around lamps and contemplating where to hang up pictures, when I heard the door open. I saw Peter walk in with three bottles of wine. Just how much is he planning to drink?
He smirked, when he noticed I was looking at him. I dropped my gaze and finished moving the lamps. I started wiping down the coffee table, when he placed his hand on mine to stop me.
"Why don't you let me do this?" He offered, softly. I didn't know what to say or how to respond. "The food will be about an hour. You have enough time to shower or clean up a bit, if you'd like." He looked so genuine, like he actually cared. I stared at him, awestruck.
"Are you sure? I'm almost finished in here, anyway. It's really not that big of a deal." I tried to protest.
"Of course, I can finish up in here." He assured me, like he knew I was going to give in. A shower does sound nice... especially with all of the unpacking I've done around the house...
"Okay. I won't be long. Don't worry about putting away the movie binders. I normally keep those in my room... Dad isn't big on movies... Thanks, Peter." I gave him a small smile, before heading over to the stairs.
"It's no trouble at all, Bonnie." He promised, gently. I think that's the first time that I've ever heard him say my name. I had to admit that I liked the sound of it.
I went upstairs into my bedroom and shut the door behind me. This is crazy, right? I'm trusting someone I just met to be basically one in my house… Goddess… I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know what it is about him, but something in my gut keeps telling me to trust him. I can't help but follow my gut instinct.
I grabbed a comfortable change of clothes, before turning on the hot water in the bathroom. I didn't have to wait long for the water to heat up. That's one good thing about this house. Well, that and I have my own bathroom attached to my bedroom. That's a nice step up. Being an only child, I've never really had to share a bathroom, but with my father's increasingly unpredictable moods, this is a welcome change. That's for sure.
I stepped under the hot spray of water and let out a deep breath. I tried not to look at myself, as I washed away the sweat and grime from the day. My body is a multicolored map of bruises. I do my best to keep them covered. To my father's credit, he normally hits me, where I'm normally covered, anyway. I sighed and washed my hair. How did this become my life?
I can't help but feel like it was because of something I did. What did I do that was so wrong? I've always done my best to be there for my friends, when they needed me. Up until recently, I've never really been in trouble with my dad. Every time he or my Grams asked me to do something, I never argued, I just did it. That's how I was raised. Respect above all else was crucial. I keep replaying different parts of my life in my head and nothing adds up. I just don't get it.
I went through the motions of my hygiene routine in a haze. When the water started to cool down, I knew that I had been in the shower for too long. I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair and the rest of the soap off of my body.
I toweled off and towel-dried my hair the best that I could. I put it in a lazy bun and left it alone. I lathered lotion on my body before pulling on a sports bra and a clean pair of underwear. I slipped my legs into a thick pair of leggings and paired them with an old t-shirt and an oversized sweater. I put a pair of socks on and went downstairs.
True to his word, Peter had finished unpacking the living room. The only thing he didn't do, was hang the pictures. I was thankful for that. He unpacked Grams' china and set it up in the china cabinet in the dining room. I looked around, trying to find him.
"You didn't have to do all of this." I told him, a little taken aback, when I saw him. He gave me an easy grin and shrugged.
"I don't mind." He promised.
"Thank you." I returned his smile. He stood up and gestured to the living room.
"I didn't think you'd want me to hang the pictures. I thought it would be best if I left those for you." He explained.
"I appreciate that. Thank you."
"You don't have to keep thanking me." He chuckled.
"I want to." I whispered. I walked over to the pictures and spotted the hammer and nails on the floor. I set to work, determined to hang the few pictures, before dinner. I felt Peter's eyes on me, but he didn't say anything, so I didn't either.
As soon as the last picture was up, the doorbell rang. Talk about perfect timing. I went to step down from the chair I was standing on, when I noticed Peter's hand, offering to help me down. I blushed as I accepted it. He helped me to my feet, before going to answer the door. I walked over with him and grabbed my purse that I had left sitting in the entry-way. Peter shook his head when I pulled out my wallet. Before I could start to protest, he had already paid the delivery guy and given him a handsome tip.
"You really didn't have to do that." I sighed, finding it hard to stay irritated with him.
"I wanted to." He echoed my words from earlier. "Why is it so hard for you to accept someone being nice to you?" He asked me, seriously, as we talked into the kitchen. I bit my lip as I got plates out, for the Mediterranean takeout. I didn't say anything as I dished some of the food out onto my plate. Peter held up a bottle of wine and looked at me questioningly. I nodded. He picked up a corkscrew that must be his and opened it, seemingly effortlessly. He poured two generous helpings into wine glasses that he must have brought from home, too. My father and I don't have any. The only thing my dad really drinks is scotch.
"I guess I'm just not used to it." I answered, meekly.
"You're not used it?" He pressed, gingerly. I shook my head and took a sip of the sweet, red wine.
"It's not important. We should eat before this gets cold. Do you want to watch anything?" I asked him.
"We can watch anything you want." He smiled. I nodded and turned on an episode of Criminal Minds. It's harder to watch lately, but I'm addicted. They always catch the bad guy at the end of the episode. That's one of the biggest reasons I watch it now. Maybe it's because I know that I can't be saved, so I relish in watching other people get saved.
After dinner and a couple of glasses of wine later, we had the music on and I was laughing as Peter helped me move around things in my room. We've already tackled the rest of the house, save for the garage, but Peter said his nephew and his guy would help with that tomorrow.
I laughed when Peter held up a box of nail polish questioningly. I pointed to my bathroom. He already helped me hang shelves in my bathroom. I started putting the bottles on the shelves, color coordinating them. Peter came up from behind me and set my make-up box on the sink.
"For a woman who doesn't seem to wear any makeup, you have an awful lot of it." He teased. I chuckled and hit his arm, playfully. His eyes glittered with amusement.
"I guess I lost interest." I shrugged.
"You just woke up one day and thought, 'To hell with it?'" He asked. I shrugged and took a sip of wine.
"Maybe I don't care what I look like," I replied. I turned around to face him and he cupped my cheek, so softly, almost like he was afraid that if he pressed too hard, I'd break.
"You look beautiful, especially, since you're not even trying." He whispered. I couldn't ignore how deep his words went. I've never had anyone talk to me the way Peter does. Sure, I dated Jeremy for a minute, but even when he was trying to be sweet, it was nothing like this.
"I'm not." I argued, shaking my head.
"You are." He pressed. I raised my glass to my lips and drained it. To say that I'm horrible at accepting compliments is an understatement. They just make me uncomfortable. "Earlier, when you said that you weren't used to people being nice to you, what did you mean by that?" He asked me, cautiously. I blinked and shook my head. He left the bathroom and I let out the breath that I was holding. I held the open wine bottle and gestured to my glass. I nodded. I'm definitely feeling it now, but I'm not complaining. "When is your birthday?" He asked me. I looked at him for a second, before answering. I had already told him that it was next month. He probably wants to know the specifics. That thought made me laugh.
"A week from tomorrow," I replied. It's nearly the end of the month.
"October 1st?" He guessed. I nodded. He moved closer to me and leaned his forehead against mine. I took another drink of my liquid courage. "If you let me, I'll show you just how beautiful you are." He promised. I looked up at him, trying to figure out what he meant by that. His face crept closer to mine and I forgot how to breathe. "Do you want this?" He asked me. I knew he was talking about kissing me. Right now, I can't think of anything that I'd want more.
"Yes," I breathed. He cupped the side of my face and brought his lips tenderly to mine. I gasped against his mouth and hesitated before returning the kiss. He pressed his lips against mine harder and I felt it throughout my entire being. He made me feel so inexperienced, but I didn't want him to stop. I groaned against him and he slipped his tongue into my mouth. I wrapped an arm around his neck and brought myself closer to him. He picked me up and set me on the sink. I wrapped my legs around his middle and did my best to keep up with his demanding mouth. His lips moved from my mouth to my neck. I gasped and my hips bucked, involuntarily. "Don't leave a mark." I panted, trying to catch my breath. He nodded against me and kept the kisses closed mouthed against my jaw. I shivered. "Peter," I breathed. He pulled away and looked at me, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
"What are you?" He asked, quietly. I giggled and shook my head. I don't even know how to answer that. "Before things go any further, you need to know that I have no intentions of having sex with you, at least not until you're eighteen and not until you're ready. I would never dream of pressuring you into anything you don't want." He explained. I looked at him and did my best to focus on his words and not on his lips.
"I wouldn't have had sex with you tonight." I told him, honestly. I could tell that he was intrigued. "But I appreciate your honesty and your sincerity," I admitted. I picked up my wine glass and finished it. "I still don't understand why you're here. I guarantee that you're not hurting for female attention. What do I have that you could possibly want?" I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.
"Everything," he murmured. I was left speechless, for the umpteenth time tonight. "I want the chance to treat you the way that you deserve to be treated." His words weren't lost on me. I wasn't sure if he realized the gravity of what he just said, but I did.
"And how do I deserve to be treated?" I asked him, my voice barely raising about a whisper.
"Do you honestly not know?" He looked me in the eye and I didn't say anything. I was scared to admit that I didn't know what I deserved anymore. "You deserve to be treated like a fucking queen." He breathed, before touching his lips to mine, with a heartbreaking gentleness. I felt tears prickle around my eyes and swallowed them back. How can a man I barely even know make me feel like I'm worth more than my own family does? It's not fair. "We can finish this in the morning. Why don't we get you to bed?" He suggested. His eyes flashed an electric blue. Wow. I nodded. He carried me out of the bathroom and set me on my bed. He tucked me in and I couldn't stop looking at him. I wish I could figure him out.
"Will you stay?" I asked him, surprising myself. I didn't expect those words to come out of my mouth, but I don't regret them. "Just to sleep… not to… you know…" I finished, lamely. He nodded and toed off his shoes. I took off my sweater and my socks, before nestling back into bed. "Is that how you normally sleep?" I pressed, quietly. He shook his head. I could see the internal debate that he was having. "You don't have to stay."
"It's not that, sweetheart. I just don't want to make you uncomfortable." He sat on the edge of my bed.
"How would you make me uncomfortable?"
"I normally sleep in underwear, just underwear." He explained. To his credit, he didn't smirk. I shrugged.
"As long as you keep your underwear on, we won't have any problems." I laughed. He smirked at my reaction. I smiled up at him. "We'll be bed buddies…" I made a face at how it sounded. "That sounds wrong. We'll be… I don't know." I frowned. "Stupid wine," I complained. Peter laughed, as he stripped down to his skivvies. "We're neighbors." I decided, lamely. He chuckled, as he slipped under the covers and wrapped an arm around my waist. I cuddled against him and used his chest as a pillow.
"We're friends." He suggested. I nodded.
"Friends," I repeated. "Do you kiss all your friends?" I asked him, stifling a giggle. The wine is making everything funny.
"Just you, sweetheart," he corrected me. I looked up at him and he stroked the side of my face with his thumb. I sighed, contently. "I don't think that anything more than friends, before you're of age would be wise."
"That's true." I agreed, tiredly.
"You should try to sleep." He suggested, as turned off the lamp on my bedside table. I nodded against him. He placed a kiss on the top of my head and I closed my eyes.
"Thank you." I murmured, sleepily.
"For what, sweetheart?"
"For being nice to me," I whispered, almost asleep.
"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked. I nestled closer to him and basked in the warmth of his embrace.
"My dad isn't."
A/N: Reviews would be awesome!
