III.

TWO YEARS

The house was dark; that was the first thing she noticed as she pulled up. The faint flicker of a fire going in the grate gave a soft glow through the kitchen window, but none of the lights were on. Bonnie hit the button on her keychain to lock her car as she crossed the lawn to the front door. It was one of the rare nights that Damon hadn't joined her at the shop after work, which, unfortunately, gave her the leeway to work much later than she usually would. Hence, she was getting home at nearly ten and was more than a little exhausted. Her feet and shoulders ached, her stomach was noticeably empty after forgetting lunch and putting dinner off for so long, and all she wanted was to take a nice, long, bubble bath.

Pushing the door open, she cast her eyes around curiously as she kicked her shoes off and hung up her jacket. The living room was lit up in a faint orange glow, but th fire was low enough that shadows clung to everything, shrouding the room. She didn't spot Damon anywhere; he must have gone to bed already. He never worried about the fire taking their house out; typical.

Shutting and locking the door behind her, she walked into the kitchen. There was a dish by the phone for her keys, so she dropped them inside and left her bag on th counter beside them. She was about to make her way to the fridge, wondering if Damon put away any leftovers for her, her mouth already watering, when she heard a clatter behind her, a bottle of bourbon banging down on the wood coffee table in front of him.

"Well, if it isn't my busy little kumquat, finally home from work…"

Jumping at the jarring noise, Bonnie whirled around to face Damon, who had apparently blended right into the shadows when she'd looked earlier. He was sitting slumped on the couch, hands stacked on his stomach, over a barely buttoned plaid shirt. He was disheveled from head to toe, hair messy and clothes askew. He offered up an empty smirk, looking far too much like a man she hadn't seen in years. The man he was when he first blew into town, empty and full of darkness.

Pushing her frown away, her hand found her hip as she snorted. "Kumquat? Really? I think that's in your top ten worst nicknames. And that includes last week's 'fruity dumpling' disaster."

He shrugged sloppily. "I don't know. It has a nice ring to it. Kumquat." He repeated it to himself a few more times, turning his gaze up toward the ceiling.

Bonnie stared at him, feeling oddly disappointed to see the mostly good mood of the last two years melt away overnight. Was this the moment where he gave up on being okay with their new life? She felt a twisting in her gut. Their life wasn't perfect. They didn't talk about everything and everyone they were missing, not often anyway, but those spaces were still very much present. Especially since her 'Caroline-spotting,' of which she was still adamant had been real. Damon hadn't believed her, and even got annoyed when she brought it up. He didn't want hope. He didn't want her to tell him he might be able to get back, not when he was so sure they never would. And her seeing Caroline might only end in breaking his heart. He was tired of that. Or, at least, that's how Bonnie saw it.

For the most part, Damon had adapted well to their 'afterlife,' or whatever it was that they had been sent to instead of oblivion. He'd made friends and actively searched to avoid anything that might bring his mood down. He might put up a token fight, but he liked it when they had barbecues or went out for drinks with friends or went to the movies every other weekend. Last summer, he'd voluntarily joined Danny on a fishing trip, spent at a cabin by the local lake. It was an all-guys' weekend, so they invited a few of their buddies to go along. Bonnie had been surprised by how enthusiastic he was about it, planning all week for it and even going out to buy brand new fishing supplies, along with a silly looking hat that he'd donned for two days leading up to the trip. It was weird, having the house to herself, she was even relieved when he came home, especially since he looked happier than usual, boasting about his weekend and cooking up a few fish he'd caught for dinner Sunday night.

Because he never talked about it, sometimes she let herself believe that he'd really and truly moved on. She didn't doubt that he missed his brother and Elena, but it was easier and easier to forget that he did when all she saw of him was happy-go-lucky, just go with it, Damon. Now she was realizing that it was probably just one of his many coping mechanisms. Much like alcohol and ready dismissal of any and all feelings had been when they were alive.

It was the two year marker today. Two years since they were ripped out of their lives and sucked into… whatever this place was. This time last year they were drunkenly singing karaoke, but it looked like things wouldn't be quite as easy this time around.

With a soft sigh, she circled the island and made her way into the living room. She took a seat on the coffee table, moving the bottle of bourbon aside. "You wanna talk about it?" she asked, her voice quiet, gentle.

He scoffed, keeping his eyes turned up. "What's to talk about? Huh?"

She stared at him, the tense lines of his body and the shadowed angles of his face. "You tell me."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, and then his jaw ticked. "So it's just on me? Huh? You don't have any more tears to cry? No more 'woe is Bonnie, lost without Jeremy,' is that it?"

She hugged her arms around her waist and refrained from rolling her eyes. "Is that what you want, Damon? For me to cry about Jeremy more?"

He snorted. "Right, 'cause having you bawl your eyes out is so much fun for me…" Before she could say anything, he leaned forward. "No. What I want is to see a little more regret. I want to hear you tell me that you miss them. That you wish they were here. That there's this gaping hole inside of you where they used to be and you can't fill it up. You try, but you can't. Because it's just… It's theirs. And nobody else is going to fit there. Not Danny or Chris or any of them. None of them are going to… fill that place." His voice waivered and he quickly cleared his throat, reaching up to press his fingers against his eyes, screwing up his forehead and giving an annoyed grunt.

Bonnie blinked back her own tears. "You're right, none of them will be Stefan for you. Or Alaric. And I don't think they're trying to be. Just like I don't think you're trying to make them fit. But that doesn't mean you don't deserve to have friends. People you like who like you too."

"They don't know me. They think I'm just some normal guy. They don't know what I've done, who I've been. They have no idea who I really am and that is… sad, and pathetic." He leaned forward, staring at her, his brow furrowed tightly. "I would've killed people like them. Innocent and naïve, trusting any old guy who came by. And Danny, with those awful puns. I would've killed him first." His lip curled in a sneer. "Him and Carla both. And then Tom next door, and his little dog too," he laughed.

Bonnie watched him calmly, his eyes filled with tears and his face straining with barely restrained emotion.

"I would've drained them all dry, left them laying in the street, and whistled happily as I walked away. But they… They invite me into their homes and out for drinks and look at me like I'm just one of their buddies. Normal, average Damon, who works a regular job and has a beautiful girlfriend. Some nine-to-fiver sap who'll die of old age with nothing significant to show for it. But I already died. Twice. And I did things! Awful things and amazing things and every once in a while, I even put on the hero hair and saved people's lives. But you know what? None of them know that! None of them know me! The good or the bad, the evil or the selfless. They have no fucking idea what kind of person I really am and the people that do, the people who liked me anyway, the people that actually got any of that… I am never going to see them again."

He laughed, high and hollow. "I'm never going to see my brother, Bonnie. Nobody here even knows I have a brother. He's just gone, no more Stefan. No more brooding, no more telling me what to do, no more sitting up high on his self-righteous horse, none of that. And I used to think that'd be a gift! I used to cheer for the day that I wouldn't have to put up with him anymore. But now, all I want is to hear him nagging me about how much I'm drinking or how he knows I can be a better person, blah blah blah." His breath caught in his throat and he leaned forward, running a hand through his hair roughly.

Bonnie blinked back her own tears, turning her eyes up to get them to drain back inside her. She reached for him, a hand landing gently on his shoulder. And when he didn't push her away, she let it slide up behind his neck, squeezing the nape lightly. "I know it hurts."

He let out a laugh, a short, gruff noise that rattled from his chest.

"I do. I know you miss them. Even if you spent a lot of it fighting, Stefan was your constant. I get that… I didn't have a hundred-plus years with them, but Caroline and Elena, they were everything to me. They were the only people I could rely on to always be there. Besides Grams, anyway. So I did everything I could to be there for them. I did everything I could to keep them alive and safe and happy. And I would do it again. I'd do it a thousand more times. Because I love them." She swiped the tears from her cheeks with a clenched fist. "Sometimes I forget that you're hurting too, because you're so good at this. You're so good at fitting in and looking like you've just… moved on. But I should've known better, because if there's anything you are, it's really good at pretending you don't care when you really care too much."

He looked up at her then, blue eyes full of broken sadness.

"I can't take it away, Damon. I can't make it better. I can't give them back to you even though I really, really want to. And I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry I didn't grab you sooner; that you aren't back there with them. I'm sorry you got sucked into this weird in-between world with me where you have to play at being Joe Average. I'm sorry." She let out a shuddering breath, staring at him searchingly. "And at the same time, I'm not. Because you're the only one that knows me and I'm lost and sad and I miss them too. So maybe nobody else knows you here, the real you, but I do. I know exactly who you are." She shook her head. "You're not alone. I might not be your first choice, but I'm here."

He stared at her, his brow furrowed, and then he reached for her, pulling her forward until she was in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, cradling her head against his shoulder, and he just held her. He didn't offer empty words of comfort, he didn't promise that one day they would go back or that everything would be okay. He just held her, his head bowed against hers, his hands making sweeping circles on her back. She could feel a few of his tears dripping off his cheek and falling onto her, but she didn't speak, she just let the storm ease away and the calm sweep over them.

It could've been minutes or hours, but eventually, with the fire little more than dying embers, he stood from the couch, lifting her up and carrying her as he went. Instead of walking to the bedroom like she expected, he carried her into the bathroom. He set her down on her feet before he moved to the tub and turned the taps on to fill it with hot water. He dumped, entirely too much, rose scented bubble bath into it and then stepped back.

"I didn't get around to making dinner earlier, but I can throw something together," he told her.

She stared at him, a faint smile pulling at her lips. "That sounds good."

He lingered for a long moment, nothing but the rushing noise of the water filling the bathtub between them. And then he stepped forward and he bent to press a kiss to her forehead. He didn't say thank you or make a joke to ease the tension. The gesture said enough. When she opened her eyes, and she couldn't quite remember when she'd closed them, he was gone.

Bonnie let out a shaky breath and walked to the tub, sitting on the edge and turning off the taps. She let her fingers dip into the water to test it before she stood again, closing the door and stripping off her clothes before she stepped into the tub and let the water and bubbles surround her. She leaned her had back, neck resting on a rolled up towel, hair tied up and out of the way, and she thought about him, about how rare it was for him to shred the mask and lay himself wide open. He had a set-back. He had a moment where he needed comfort and he needed to break down and she understood that. It wouldn't all be rainbows and sunshine; it couldn't be. But they would get through it. Together.

…

Chris was good people. Of everyone that worked at Bonnie's shop, Damon's favorite was probably Naomi, but one of the stock boys, Brandon, was a nice guy, and his boyfriend Chris was a particularly good pool player. Which helped, because Danny was shit at the game and that meant Damon never felt as good when he kicked his ass. Tonight was no different. Sadie's Pub wasn't packed, but it had a pretty regular crew for a Wednesday night.

"I'm telling you, my game is darts, not pool," Danny insisted.

"Yeah, you wanna explain last week then?" Damon snorted. "You almost took that waitress's eye out."

Chris chuckled from his seat at the table they were sharing, tipping his beer back for a drag.

"She was a looker too. I'm tempted to tell Carla you did it to get her attention."

Danny rolled his eyes. "I was drunk. My aim was off!"

"I don't know. I think we should put it to a vote. Who all thinks Danny's a liability at every game and should probably retire?" Damon raised his hand and Chris followed suit. "See? Two to one. We win."

"Whatever," Danny dismissed. "You two keep this up and I'll forget games and go back to puns."

Chris grimaced. "At least with darts, it's somebody else suffering."

Damon chuckled, his head falling back in amusement.

"Yeah, laugh it up. But she's working again tonight and I'm pretty sure she's still pissed about it." Danny nodded his chin to where a few waitresses were standing together; one in particular, a pretty red-head, cast a glare toward their table.

Chris let out a long whistle. "Good thing we didn't order food."

"You think she'd spit in it?" Danny wondered.

"She's angry enough… She probably has a voodoo doll with your face on it." Damon's mouth turned up in a dark smirk. "Poetic, if you think about it. You tried to hit her with a dart, she sticks you with pins sometimes…"

Danny shifted in his seat. "You know, I've been kind of achy lately, maybe she really does…"

Chris glanced at Damon and then raised a brow at Danny. "Hey, don't worry so much. She doesn't look like the voodoo type to me."

"No?"

"No, she's definitely the shank you in the parking lot type…" Chris winked. "We should probably walk you to your car later, just to be sure."

Danny rolled his eyes. "All right, ha ha, really funny guys. We're just talking about a wronged woman who could fatally wound me here."

Damon shook his head and clapped Danny's shoulder. "Just apologize to her, and mean it."

"That's it?"

"Well, that and maybe promise you'll never go anywhere near the darts again."

Danny snorted, but nodded as he stood from the table. He raised his head up and was just about to leave the table before he paused and looked back at them. "Before I go… A hooker, a rabbi, and a plumber walk into a bar…"

Damon and Chris groaned loudly, but Danny merely grinned as he continued with his joke.

Despite himself, Damon found himself laughing. It was still rough, trying to drown out that voice in his head that reminded him that he wasn't as normal as these guys were, that he had a screwed up history that would've sent them all running for the hills, that neither of them were Stefan or Alaric. But they weren't bad people and, all things considered, the afterlife could be a lot worse.

…

"I'm not painting your toes."

Bonnie pouted at him. She stuck out her bottom lip and tipped her head, looking up at him with her big green eyes and Damon didn't know when, he could not pin point the exact moment it happened, but he was absolutely under Bonnie Bennett's thumb.

When he sighed, his shoulders slumping, she lit up, her shoulders raised, and she grinned at him. "Yay," she said, reaching for a few different bottles. "Okay, so I couldn't pick which one I liked best, so you have to help me choose first."

Damon raised an eyebrow at her. "A hundred and seventy-five years, Bonnie. I've killed more people than you've met in your life, and this is what you have me doing."

"Yes, I know, your badass reputation is well intact." She rolled her eyes. "I'll be sure not to mention to any evil-doers that you had a moment of weakness."

"A moment of weakness is not picking between bubble gum pink and powder blue nail polish. This is like having me castrated. Why would do this to me, Bonnie? What has my masculinity ever done to you?"

Bonnie pursed her lips and then reached over and plucked up a dark burgundy bottle. "You're right, those two are a little too young for me. This one's better." She waved it at him. "Kind of looks like blood, right? That should make you feel better."

He snapped his fingers and held his hand out for the bottle.

Happily, she handed it over to him.

He gave it a shake and said, "One coat or two?"

Bonnie hummed thoughtfully. "Two."

"The things I do for you…" he sighed.

"It's much appreciated." Stretching her legs out, she placed her feet in his lap. "So? Tell me about your day…"

"I tell you Danny almost lost a finger?"

"No! What happened?"

"Well…"

Somewhere, someone was laughing at him for how easily he succumbed to domesticity. And he would gladly kill them should he ever meet them… right after he finished painting Bonnie's toes.

…

"Bonnie… I'm dying," he whined, from where he was sprawled out on the couch, a blanket tucked in around him. "Come take my temperature again, I think my skin's melting off."

"You are such a baby, you know that?" she wondered, rolling her eyes as she finished rinsing off a soup bowl and put it in the dish rack. "It's a flu, Damon. You don't have the plague."

He glared at her, but it was half-hearted at best. "You know, when I was alive, getting sick wasn't so far off from getting dead."

"I told you to get your flu shot…"

"In case it's escaped your attention, we're dead, this shouldn't even be possible!What was a flushot supposed to do?"

"Well, you're currently laid up on the couch, so you tell me." Bonnie dried her hands off with a dish towel and dropped it on the island counter before she walked over to him, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of him. "You're still flushed." She pressed the back of her hand to one of his cheeks and frowned. "And you're hot."

His mouth twitched slightly. "We already knew that."

She shook her head. "You can't be too sick if you're still this corny."

"Hey, my lines are gold," he defended. "In fact, I—" He cut himself off as he was suddenly wracked with a coughing fit. Turning himself over onto his side, his whole body tensed up, fist pressed up close to his mouth as he barely refrained from choking up a lung. Bonnie's hand soothingly ran over his shoulder and back.

When he'd calmed down, she handed him his half-empty bottle of water and a held up a pack of throat lozenges. He knocked back the rest of the room temp water and wrinkled his nose at the cough drops. Still, when she unwrapped one and held it up expectantly, he opened his mouth, half-smiling when she obliged and popped it into his mouth for him. He rolled it around on his tongue a few times before pushing up onto his elbow and patting the seat where he'd been laying.

"I have inventory…" she said.

"Just a few minutes," he asked.

Bonnie bit her lip, sighed, and then stood. She shifted over so she was sitting on the couch and waited as he dropped his head down onto her lap. Somewhat amused by his need for physical affection when he wasn't feeling good, she dragged her fingers through his hair, surreptitiously checking his forehead again. He was pretty warm, but she'd checked his temperature a few times. He had a fever, yes, but he was still low enough not to need to medical intervention.

Snuggling his cheek down against her legs, Damon half-closed his eyes and let out a content breath. "You make that soup yourself?" he wondered.

"Mm-hmm. Grams' recipe."

"Sheila knew what she was doing," he complimented. "First thing I've kept down."

Absently, she knocked her knuckles against the wood table beside them; Damon's mouth tipped up when he noticed.

"She used to make it for me whenever I got sick. I asked her to teach me how to make it when I was twelve and dad was down with a nasty flu."

He raised an eyebrow and turned his head to look up at her. "So what you're telling me if that you've been letting me do all the cooking while you're holding out on some classic Sheila Bennett recipes?"

Bonnie smiled. "Maybe if you're lucky, I'll teach you a few."

"I'll hold you to that," he said before turning his head back down. His eyes fluttered a few times before she felt him start to drift off, gradually relaxing against her.

She'd planned to move out from under him and lay his head down on a pillow while she got back to her work, but a minute and then five passed with her lightly stroking his hair as he slept. Maybe just a few more minutes; he seemed to sleep better when she was close by. That was what she told herself anyway. Resting her head on the back of the couch, she let her fingers continue to comb through his soft hair and closed her own eyes. It wasn't so bad. Sure, he was a baby about feeling sick, but it was kind of endearing to see 'bad ass' Damon fall prey to a common flu. She could probably do without the whining, but the cuddling wasn't so bad… Not that she would evertell him that. She also wouldn't tell him about the picture she took of him when he was napping, cheeks flushed and looking all the more innocent for it. She would totally be adding that to the scrapbook later.

…

"We're not going to another horror movie." Bonnie crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "Haven't we had enough of that in our lives?"

"Call it nostalgia." Damon shrugged. "Anyway, I'm not going to another Nicholas Sparks movie. And nothing with Channing Tatum either. Unless it's another Jump Street sequel, then I might be persuaded. Maybe. On a good day."

She rolled her eyes. "Way to narrow things down, Damon. What about a comedy, huh?" She pointed to one of the posters hanging outside of the theater, behind glass and lit up with blinking lights. "That one looks funny."

Damon raised a skeptical eyebrow at the poster. "What's with you and Tom Hanks?"

Sighing, she tossed her hands up. "Who doesn't love Tom Hanks?"

"Me. I don't love Tom Hanks."

"Now you're just arguing to argue." As the line moved forward, Bonnie dug around in her purse for her wallet. "Either pick something that doesn't involve murder, or we're seeing that movie."

Sighing, long, loud, and overdramatically, Damon turned his attention up the list of movies listed above the theater entrance, lit up brightly atop the blue and pink lights flashing beneath it. He wasn't seeing anything he liked and his lips pursed. "Why didn't we check what was playing before we left?"

"Because you're impatient," she answered simply. "I barely had time to shower before you shoved me out the door."

"Now who's exaggerating?" He looked down at her, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I—"

"Bonnie?"

She paused, turning her head and searching out the voice.

Kayla popped into sight then and waved a hand, half-smiling a little awkwardly. She walked toward them, tucking her hands in her leather jacket, her boots making a noticeable clomp. "Hey." She looked between her boss and Damon before asking, "I'm not interrupting date night, am I?"

Bonnie shook her head. "No, no, it's fine."

"Yes. You are," Damon said, amused when Bonnie elbowed him. "What're you doing out, emo lite? Isn't it past your bedtime?" he teased.

Kayla rolled her eyes. "It's not that late, and my curfew's eleven. I've got plenty of time." She turned back to Bonnie to ask, "What're you going to see?"

"Well, Damon wanted to see Blood Ripper 7, but we're probably going to see the new Tom Hanks movie instead."

Kayla lit up then. She fairly hopped where she stood, reaching up to tuck her curly hair behind her ears as she grinned up at him. "No way, you're a Ripper fan? I love that series! I have the first six, plus the book series it's based on. My favorite's the fourth one; I have the Super Blood Extended Edition."

Damon blinked down at her and then turned to Bonnie. "See? Even she appreciates a good horror movie."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "We're not going to it. If you wanna watch all that blood and gore stuff, you can happily go without me. I want popcorn, Swedish fish, and Tom Hanks. In that order."

Damon sighed. "Spoilsport."

"Actually, I have a bootleg of it, if you wanna borrow it. I haven't watched it yet, so I can't guarantee quality, but…" Kayla trailed off, shrugging.

He quirked a curious eyebrow. "Really?"

"Sure." She shrugged. "I usually can't get in to see it when it opens. I used to have a friend who worked here that would sneak me into R-rated movies, but he quit, so now I have to suffer like every other kid my age…"

Damon's mouth quirked. "You know, you can get in if you have a parent with you."

She snorted. "Like my parents would. I can't remember the last time we ever went to a movie together," she muttered, glaring down the street and shifting her feet uncomfortably.

Damon turned his eyes to the side and Bonnie caught him looking. He raised an eyebrow in silent communication and she pursed her lips back at him. He raised the other eyebrow and tilted his head in Kayla's direction. She raised her chin and put a hand to her hip. Damon sighed, to which Bonnie sighed, her shoulders deflating, and then he grinned triumphantly. Bonnie rolled her eyes.

"Kayla, would you like to see Blood Ripper 7 with us?" Bonnie wondered, looking over at the girl curiously.

"What? Really?" She perked up hopefully.

Bonnie nodded, offering a faint smile. "Sure, if you don't mind me hiding my eyes every time something gross happens."

"No, that's totally cool! I mean…" She reorganized her face so she didn't look quite so eager. "I guess it'd be fun, if you don't mind me interrupting your date."

"Oh, I'm sure I can watch Tom Hanks another night." She looked up at Damon sternly. "Can't I?"

He grinned. "Sure. Date Night Take Two. In the meantime, I'll buy you some popcorn and Swedish fish."

As the line moved forward, he hung a friendly arm around Kayla's shoulders, his other arm around Bonnie's waist, and ushered them toward the ticket booth. "Who's ready for a bloody good night?"

Despite herself, Bonnie smiled at his enthusiasm, and especially at how excited Kayla looked. While it wasn't her first choice of movie, it was nice to see them both looking so animated. She could put up with a little over-the-top blood and gore for that.

…

He was singing again. Bonnie couldn't remember when exactly that became normal, but at some point she got used to finding Damon in the kitchen, shirtless and singing along to whatever music period had caught his attention that month while he cooked up breakfast for them. It was Aerosmith this morning, and Damon was very enthusiastically singing along to 'Crazy,' which seemed rather apt in her opinion.

While he moved around the kitchen, hips rocking and lips moving along with the lyrics, Bonnie smiled, leaning in the hallway as she watched him give himself over to the music. His hair was still mussed from sleep and his pajama pants were slung low on his hips. She purposely kept quiet so he wouldn't notice her, letting the song play through before she stepped out, crossing the floor in her slippers, letting them shuffle on the floor.

He looked over, a smile playing at his lips.

"Look who's finally up..."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I slept in a little."

"Late night, sweet potato?" he teased, flipping the bacon.

"Hey, it's Saturday, I can sleep in if I want to."

"True, it's just rare to see you actually do it."

"I know, I'm dull and boring and I work too much." She moved to take a seat on the stool in front of the island, but he shook his and hummed negatively. "What?" She frowned.

"Work too much, yes, absolutely. But the other stuff…?" He shook his head. "Not so much."

Before she could ask him what put him in such a good mood, Damon tossed his spatula down on the counter and circled the island.

"C'mere."

As the CD switched and a new song started to play, he took up her hand and pulled her close. Drawing her arms up and around his neck, he dropped his hands to her hips and started moving them around the floor in a circle. Bonnie looked up at him curiously, recognizing the tune as another Aerosmith song. Damon didn't sing along this time, his lips didn't even move, but he stared back intently as they danced.

I kept the right ones out,
And let the wrong ones in,
Had an angel of mercy to see me through all my sins…

He reached up to tuck her hair back behind her ear, his thumb stroking her cheek lightly.

Bonnie smiled gently. As the song went on, she turned her head and rested her cheek against his chest. Damon kept his arm around her, his free hand sliding down her hair to rest at her shoulder. She split her attention between the steady beat of his heart and the music in the background. They moved comfortably, in sync with each other, like she knew which way he would step before he did. His hand against her back was a comfortable weight, familiar and wanted. She wasn't sure what brought on this mood, but she liked it. So, she nuzzled her nose against him contently and moved around the floor, happily wrapped up in his arms. And when the song ended and they parted, she simply smiled and took her seat at the island while he returned to making their breakfast.

"Y'know, I partied with Aerosmith a few times," he told her.

"Yeah?" she asked, perching her chin on her hands. "Tell me about it…"

"All right, first, picture it… It was 1977…"

Bonnie grinned as he got lost in his memories, happy to share them with her.

…

Bonnie blamed it on a distinct lack of sleep. She'd had her head buried in her office, going over supplies, when her bladder decided to interrupt her. Without thinking, she'd simply walked into the bathroom, giving no attention to the fact that the door was closed at the time. In her defense, she'd gone into her office in the morning and hadn't noticed how much time had passed. In fact, she hadn't realized Damon was home; he'd left that morning to hang out with Chris and watch a football game or something. She honestly hadn't been paying that much attention, too busy going over her stock list and prepping for what would be a busy day with Naomi; they'd be spending much of Sunday making candles it looked like. Especially cinnamon; they were running really low on those.

So when she stepped through the door, she was more than a little surprised to see Damon in the tub. It wasn't the first time he'd called her into the bathroom when he was submerged in bubbles, usually to tell her about his day, completely ignoring the fact that he was naked. The man had no shame. But this time was different. Because this time, there were no bubbles, just lightly scented water, a scattering of candles (cinnamon, of course), and a glass of bourbon sitting on the floor within reach. Lastly, and most importantly, there was Damon, whose hand was noticeably wrapped around his—

"Oh my God!" She froze on spot, her eyes down, focused entirely too clearly on what he was doing. What he hadn't stopped doing, despite her standing there.

She should have turned around, walked away, done anything but keep staring, but that was exactly what she did. Stared.

"Did you want a picture for your scrapbook?" he quipped, an eyebrow raised.

Her eyes raised abruptly, centered on his amused face, and then swiftly turned up toward the ceiling. "I—I didn't know! I didn't mean to… I am so sorry." Embarrassment flooded through her and her heart hammered irregularly.

Bonnie wasn't looking, so she didn't see him shrug, but she was pretty sure the way the water sloshed against the walls of the tub were telling her that was what he'd done. Either that or his hand had sped up and— wait, no. She wasn't thinking of that. She wasn't thinking about that at all.

"No big deal. Everybody does it."

She shifted her feet uncomfortably. "Yes, but not everybody has someone walk in on them while they're… doing it."

He chuckled lowly. "No need to sound so uptight, Bon-Bon. It's not like I haven't seen that pink vibrator you have in your sock drawer. If I had my other hand, I'd clap. The size was impressive."

Bonnie could feel her cheeks heat up. "Damon!"

"Considering the topic, I'd hope you'd say my name a little differently. Maybe make it more breathy. Or just longer. Really stretch it out…"

"Oh my God," she muttered under her breath.

"Just 'Damon' is fine."

Annoyed, she looked down long enough to glare and then turned on her heel, quickly leaving the bathroom and slamming the door behind her. "And stay out of my sock drawer!" she yelled, stomping down the hallway.

While she didn't hear it, she was sure he was laughing at her. She went in search of a bottle of wine in hopes that it might help dull the very explicit image permanently seared into her brain. Ugh. She was never going to live this down.

…

"You know what we should have added to these popcorn strings?" Bonnie asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor by the fire, a throw blanket tucked around her lower half. A collection of miscellaneous Christmas decorations surrounded them while mugs of hot chocolate and spiced egg nog rested on the brick ledge in front of the fireplace.

"Cranberries?" Annette said knowingly.

"Exactly." She shook her head, disappointed. "I never remember those."

"Lucky for you…" Annette reached over and pulled her bag closer to her. She unpacked a few of Jasper's toys before she reached the bag of dried cranberries on the bottom. "I think of everything."

Bonnie grinned, reaching to take the bag from her outstretched hand. "The shop's going to look great this year. Naomi lent me this fake snow she had from last year and I found this awesome manger and wise men set-up the other day. I was thinking we'd stretch these out over the tops of the shelves, what do you think?"

"Sounds lovely. I might just make a few extra of these for my tree at home, too."

Taking a look around her own house, Bonnie nodded. "I should too. This place needs some holiday cheer."

A honk horned outside then, grabbing their attention.

Bonnie glanced toward the front door and then tipped her head back to shout, "Damon! The guys are here!"

He didn't answer, but, thirty seconds later, Damon came down the hallway, still pulling his winter jacket on.

Bonnie lifted up from the floor, giving a little shiver as the cool air touched her despite her wool pants and oversized sweater. She made her way over to him and gave him a perusal from head to toe; he had his snow pants on, making his legs look abnormally thick. "You have your gloves?" she wondered.

He pulled them from his jacket pocket to show her. "Check."

"Did you put on those wool socks I got you? Your feet got cold last time." She reached up to readjust the scarf around his neck and tucked the collar of his coat around him.

Damon pulled on his gloves and nodded. "Yeah, I remembered."

"And your hat too. It's that or ear muffs."

He rolled his eyes and plucked a hat out from his other pocket. "Are you done mothering me yet?" he asked, but his mouth turned up at the corner all the same.

"Not quite." She tipped her head toward the kitchen. "I made you hot chocolate to take with you."

He perked up. "Is it—?"

"Grams' recipe? Yes."

His grin widened. "Have I mentioned lately that you're the best?"

She snorted. "Even when I nag?"

"Especially when you nag."

She shrugged, smiling. "Never hurts to hear it again."

Damon nodded knowingly and then ducked down to press a sloppy kiss to her cheek. "You and Annette have fun. And stay warm. Don't let the fire die down. The electricity's been spotty since the storm."

"Okay."

"I'll be back in a few hours." He pulled his hat on over his hair and adjusted it for comfort. "Do me a favor and stay off the roads. Danny said there were already a few accidents."

"We'll be busy with the decorations anyway," she assured. "We've got plenty to eat, so we shouldn't need to go anywhere."

"Good." At another honk outside, he said, "I gotta go." He pressed another kiss to her cheek. "Be good."

"Stay warm!" she called after him as he walked toward the front door, grabbing up his thermos of hot chocolate and his snow shovel as he went.

He waved back at her before he shut the door and started down the snow filled yard to the truck out front, joining Danny, Chris, Peter and Brandon in a joint effort to try and clear up some of the streets and driveways in the neighborhood.

Bonnie started back toward the living room and retook her seat on the floor, grabbing up the ends of her blanket and pulling them back around her. She smiled to herself, feeling rather content, and picked up her own hot chocolate for a sip.

"So when's he going to put a ring on it?" Annette wondered.

Bonnie choked.

…

It snuck up on him, how easy it was to be with her. How comfortable he could be in this oddly domestic little life they had carved out together. But he liked it. He liked waking up in the morning and seeing her beside him. He liked making her breakfast and dinner and the way she leaned into the kiss goodbye he pressed to her cheek each morning. He liked how she still gave him that exasperated look when he did something or said something she didn't agree with. He liked that she still fought with him in the mornings to have the first shower, sometimes racing him to the bathroom. And the way she wrinkled up her nose and pursed her mouth when he made her vampcakes. He liked knowing that he had her to come home to, every night. It made sense, he guessed. He'd spent so much of his life chasing the idea of belonging with someone, of being loved so completely that he wouldn't be left behind. The most unstable person in any room and all he'd ever wanted was stability. Acceptance. Love.

Bonnie didn't always agree with him. If anything, she disagreed just because it was him. But she was dependable and she cared and she was loyal to a fault. A very big fault. The kind that usually resulted in her death. Only now, there was none of that. No more vampires or doppelgangers or witches. Just normal, boring, small town life, and it was… idyllic. Sure, he'd always been more attracted to the booming city landscape, but that fit his predatory lifestyle at the time. Now he was a nine-to-fiver that brought home a paycheck and cooked elaborate dinners for the wife. Okay, so she wasn't technically his wife, or even his girlfriend, but she was… his. In a way. It wasn't romantic. He wasn't in love with her. But… he loved her. He cared about her. He checked every window and door before he went to sleep at night and he worried sometimes, what little he could do in his very human body if they ever did run into a problem. And yeah, that brought up the question of could they die if they were already dead? Of course, he didn't feel too eager to test that out. All he knew was that Bonnie was his. His friend, his stability, his familiarity, his home.

And sometimes, even if he didn't like to think about it, she felt like a lot more than that…

She'd fallen asleep on the couch again; in the middle of reading Jane Eyre, she'd just sort of drifted off. Her feet were in his lap. How he got into the habit of rubbing her feet, he had no idea. He was sure his brother would take great pleasure in making fun of him for it too, but, fortunately (or unfortunately, depending), Stefan wasn't there to see him turn into a bit of a pushover when it came to his smart-alecky former-witch.

So her feet were in his lap, tucked up close to his stomach when the fire began to die down and a faint chill filled the room. He snuck a hand in under her ankles and lifted them as he slid out from under her. He took his time then, checking each of the windows, locking the doors, turning off the lights. Finally, with the fire put out, he made his way back to her. He carefully took the plaid blanket off of her and folded it over the back of the couch before he slid her book from beneath her hand, marked it, and put it on the end table for her to read tomorrow. Tucking his arms under her, he easily lifted her up from the couch. Her head fall back against his shoulder and she shifted a little, but stayed asleep. She was such a tiny little thing; light as a feather, even without his vampire strength. Maneuvering around the furniture, he started down the hall toward their bedroom. The double-doors leading into their room were left open and the crisp smell of potpourri and clean linens met his nose. He laid her down gently on her side of the bed and folded the blanket up and around her. She let out a soft hum and stuck one of her feet out from beneath the blanket, just like always. His mouth ticked up, amused. For a moment, he just stared down at her, content and safe. It'd been a long time since he felt that way, or since he felt like the people he cared about were that way.

Despite always thinking they were all each other had, he knew he had friends here. If he had to pick out his best friends, at least on this plain, it was Danny and Chris. They were good guys. Easy going and always up for hanging out, getting a few drinks, or shooting a game of pool. He had a good routine and he'd made nice with a few people around the neighborhood. He was friendly with all of Bonnie's employees at the shop too; Kayla was a good kid and he liked flirting with Naomi since it always amused her and made her pat his cheek like he was adorable. So he had friends, and he had a life, and, truth be told, if he wanted to, he could move out and date and build up a life all his own. He just… wasn't ready to. Or maybe he didn't want to. It wasn't just because Bonnie was the only link he had to his life. It wasn't because she was the only person he knew that remembered their friends and family, or knew exactly who he was. It wasn't for any other reason than because she was her.

He would miss her if they weren't together every day.

Hell, he spent half of his work day thinking about what he was going to make her for dinner, what he would surprise her with next, which foods and flavors she would love and which would take her by surprise, what stories from his 160+ years of life he would tell her. He always had a skip in his step when Danny dropped him off in front of the shop, not because his day was over, but because he got to see Bonnie.

He knew it was dangerous territory to be treading on. He knew that it could blow up in his face. And he knew that he wasn't completely over Elena. He wasn't entirely sure he ever would be. But he also knew that Bonnie made him happy. Even when she made him crazy. And maybe, one day, he might explore that. For now though, he was content. So he tucked the blanket in around her shoulders and he climbed in on his side of the bed, and he fell asleep, smiling about the bacon and eggs he was going to make for her in the morning, and how he could use a couple hashed browns to make fangs on the bacon smile.

[Next: Chapter Four.]

author's note: so, we're starting to see the shift moving beyond friendship here, which I'm really excited about. it's still going to be a while before that romantic end evolves because I do think they're still in a stage where they're not ready for that, but it's interesting to see more intimate moments play out as they grow together. I was also really glad I got to explore a little more of Damon's feelings, because I think he's the type to cover up what's going on in his head until it just kind of boils over.

thank you all so, so much for reviewing. It's really keeping me motivated and I'm enjoying the different reactions. You're not going to find out why Caroline popped up for a bit yet, but she will make another appearance soon, as well as another mystery that pops up and causes some questions.

please leave a review; they're very appreciated!

thanks for reading!

- lee | fina