A/N: Hey folks. Sorry this chapter took longer to come out. Had family I hadn't seen in a while in town, and they don't know about my double life. HA. Enough stalling from me. Enjoy!
Brain muddled, nervous system on high alert for danger, I braced myself only to realize it was 2 am, and a Salvatore just interrupted my precious sleep. It wasn't the Salvatore I wanted. That would have been wishful thinking because the only time Stefan and I shared sleeping quarters was when we fell asleep on the couch while watching a movie or TV show. It was Damon.
Fact One:
He is a rude ass bitch.
Fact Two:
I was going to stomp his inconsiderate ass. Once I had some coffee.
Sucking my teeth, I leaned up on an elbow, glowered despite the fact it was too dark for him to see it properly. He filled my doorway with an aura of superiority and entitlement. "Damon? What the hell. Why are you in my room?" my voice cracked from disuse.
"I couldn't let another minute pass without you knowing I was back in town," he proceeded to rush forward, launched himself in the air, and landed on my bed almost crushing me.
Some weird noise came out of my mouth at the impact. I pushed—futilely, at his heavy frame, shoving him with my hands and feet. "You are such a douchebag."
"You love me," Damon nuzzled his face in my neck, and began dry humping me like a dog. He groaned, "I missed you, Bonnie."
"Get off, you ape," I stifled a laugh or two because he was being so damn obnoxious, but I could smell the bourbon fumes on him. Regardless, I twisted, pushed, smacked him upside the head. He laughed at my attempts to dislodge him.
I caught him with an elbow to his ear.
"OW."
"All right, Damon that's enough!"
Damon instantly stilled at the sound of Stefan's commanding voice. He lifted his head from the hollow of my neck, and looked over his shoulder. "We're busy."
"Get the fuck off her right now," Stefan demanded in a low, threatening tone that actually sent chills of fear down my spine.
I felt Damon stiffen, but he heeded his brother's words. "Cockblocker," he complained with a shake of his head but thankfully rolled off me deliberately taking the covers with him.
"Hey!" I grabbed them and tugged. Damon let go and my back smacked into the mattress. Hadn't realized how hard I had been pulling. "Ugh, get out! Wait. What the hell are you doing here?" that was directed at the intruder.
In the semi-darkness, I saw Damon tug down the shirttails of his button down and shove a hand through his messy hair. Damon rarely brushed or combed his wig. "I missed my brother and his annoying sidekick."—I flipped him off—"It was time I paid you all a visit."
Sighing heavily, more like hissing loudly, I burrowed back under the protection of cotton, and grumbled for both Salvatores to exit my bedroom before I turned violent. The soft click of the door shutting after their departure was the only signal I had that it was okay to unearth myself before I suffocated.
Damon popping up unannounced wasn't anything new. He's sprung himself on me and Stefan a few times since living together, but his 'visits' was usually the product of falling out with whoever he was screwing.
I'd get answers in the morning. Right now, I needed sleep.
The seductive aroma of bacon frying in a pan lured me away from the loving arms of my queen size bed. Had to make a pit stop first to freshen up and make myself presentable prior to journeying into the kitchen.
Scurrying into the communal bathroom in my Spider-Man underoos (yes I wore superhero themed underwear) and a ribbed tank, I shut myself inside and placed my iPod into the dock. "Good For You" began pumping through the small speakers. I was no Selena Gomez fan, but this song spoke to me on a damn near spiritual level, especially if you listened to the lyrics, which I did.
Perhaps I was even playing it on a subliminal level hoping it might permeate into the cerebellum of a certain five-eleven, hundred and seventy pound caramel-haired guy.
Pushing that slightly self-serving and frivolous thought aside, I washed my face, brushed the plaque off my teeth, tongue, gums, and hopped in the shower.
Damon being here added an unforeseeable complication. The elder Salvatore was an attention whore and I meant that in the most loving way possible…kind of. If he wasn't pestering Stefan to pay attention to his man pain, then he was targeting me as the butt of his stupid jokes. Well, actually Stefan wasn't immune to Damon's ribbing either, but his patience endured longer than mine ever did. My fuse grew exceedingly short around Damon.
I hummed along as loofah and hand soaped my body. Frothy bubbles tickled down my skin, circled into the drain. Steam rose adding moisture to the air. My fingers got missing within the juncture of my thighs, brushed over that nub hidden among curls. Teeth sawed into my bottom lip, and I did it again, but stopped. Getting myself off in the shower with an extra pair of ears in the apartment? Couldn't risk it. I resumed washing.
Five minutes later I shut off the taps, wrapped my towel around me, and threw open the bathroom door.
My heart stuttered and resumed its normal beat. Fucking Damon was blocking the threshold. "You are such a pervert."
At his own leisure he ogled my legs. The heat of his stare did nothing to my insides. When around Damon I often found myself bracing against that moment I'd start to see him in a different light, as a contender for bedroom privileges.
Thank baby Jesus it never came.
In the light of day I could better view his features. He had a dusting of black whiskers poking out around his jaw, upper lip. Long lashes shielded pearlescent turquoise irises. Damon's perfectly straight nose dipped down to a well-formed mouth that I mostly wanted to punch. He put on a few pounds since the last time I saw him, which was more muscle than fat. He filled out his clothes.
"I cooked breakfast as a sort of…apology for busting into your room last night—er early this morning. I was drunk," he shrugged nonchalantly.
"I was drunk," I mocked. That was Damon's excuse for everything. Forgot to pay his rent—I was drunk. Failed to fill up the gas tank—I was drunk. Ate the last cookie and didn't buy more—I was drunk. "How old are you again?"
"Definitely not as old as you, grandma," Damon stepped out of the way when I shoved him aside, that is. "Like I said, breakfast is ready when your highness is ready to eat."
As much as I would love to slam my bedroom door in Damon's face with some witty remark dancing off my tongue to crack his face, I couldn't deny that for his many faults, Stefan's brother was a superb cook. It was one of the few things the Salvatore brothers had in common. They could burn in the kitchen.
Stomach grumbling, leading a mutiny against my ego's campaign to prove I was above eating something prepared by Damon, I stomped to my bedroom.
"Bonnie?"
"Yes, Damon?"
"You do look good for me," he leered insufferably.
I slammed the door.
Damon was manning the stove by the time I was dressed. Stefan was in his customary seat at the kitchen table, reading the paper, dressed for work in a starched blueberry Oxford that hugged his muscles enticingly. His gaze shifted ever so slightly in my direction when I joined him at the table, roaming over my features, pausing for a moment to stare at my lips. Yes, I donned that dark lipstick again. His pupil dilated, I saw it.
"Good morning," I spoke softly for his ears only.
Stefan cleared his throat and scratched his nose. "Morning. Sorry about Damon."
"No need to apologize for him. He's old enough to realize that if he has to pee he needs to scratch on the door to be let outside."
Damon extended his arm behind him, stiff middle finger in the air. Stefan chuckled.
Reaching for the mug on my place setting, I filled it with coffee from the carafe. Damon pivoted from the stove, holding our Teflon frying pan and forked eggs on my plate. He smiled, I scowled, he winked, and I smirked a little.
"Bonnie," he greeted innocently as if he hadn't loitered outside the bathroom while I got ready.
I stared down at the food that definitely hadn't been in our refrigerator last night: eggs, bacon, and a square-shaped Belgian waffle. "Your apology for coming uninvited into my room knowing your ass knows better…looks edible."
The clang the frying pan made when Damon dumped it unceremoniously in the sink, made me wince. He took a seat the table and flicked a linen napkin open, placed it over his lap.
"I don't know what you're so pissed about. It's not like you have a real job you had to be up early for."
The insults, the cracks at my 'non-profession', at least according to one snooty Damon Salvatore, who by the way has never done a shred of manual or corporate labor in his entire gotdamn life, yet turned up his nose if someone held a blue collar job, was old. Ancient. Kudos to me, I had stopped being sensitive long ago.
From the gleam in his sky blue eyes he wanted me to call him an asshole. Arguing was foreplay to Damon, how he exuded control or his virility. I used to give in too easily, sparing with him for hours, winning inches and losing by miles. He learned which of my buttons to push and pushed them if he felt I was encroaching on private territory that was locked airtight. Damon had a gift where he could make you want to knife him, but turn around and save his ass because there was something there—some kind of potential that if he stopped dicking around, he could be an extraordinary person.
I never, ever fancied him. His romance novel/dirty magazine/movie star looks drew you in, made you horny, but his acerbic personality was like a Brilo pad on skin. Chafing.
"Ha, ha, so," I drew out the word, picked up my fork, "which one of your side pieces told you to kick rocks?"
"My apartment is being renovated, thank you very much," Damon replied haughtily and shoveled a combination of waffle, eggs, and bacon into his mouth. Bout the only time he was quiet, when he was chewing or sleeping.
I looked at Stefan then back at Damon. "Bruh, you live in New York."
Damon snapped his fingers. "Forgot to tell you that I've relocated to DC."
My startled greens fled to Stefan's resigned bluish-grays. "What are you planning on doing in DC?"
"I haven't exactly figured that out yet."
"And don't tell me you plan on doing that figuring out on my couch." Stefan coughed. "Our couch," I amended.
"Un-bunch your panties. I'm only crashing on couch city for a couple of days until I move into my fuck pad."
"How wonderful," I waved my fork in the air. "Seriously though, who ran you out of New York?"
Damon, who was known for his unbridled stare downs was concentrating awfully hard on his plate all of a sudden. "I'm not running from anyone. I'm just tired of the same scene night after night. I needed a change and I miss my brother."
Load of crap, but I didn't say that out loud. "I don't need one of your psychotic hook ups showing up on my doorstep, Damon. Maybe you've forgotten Kai?"
He winced at the mention of one of his tenderonies. Oh, yeah totally forgot to mention that Damon swings both ways. Moving on, Kai Parker was this fine albeit crazy as hell acquisitions manager Damon met two years ago at some party. They hooked up the same night, and Kai practically moved in with Damon the next damn day. Needless to say, Damon soon found himself living his own version of Single White 'Male'. At first he got off on the fact Kai was the insanely jealous type. However, the novelty wore off when Damon was ready to move on because pussy caught his eye once more, and Kai wouldn't hear of it.
Damon broke things off for good following an incident of road rage where Kai chased him, more like police pursued his ass from New Jersey to New York, and caused a terrible accident on the George Washington Bridge. I mean, shit made headline news! Luckily there hadn't been any fatalities, but there could have been. Kai avoided facing criminal charges but had to do a shit ton of community service.
From the flash of guilt on Damon's face he must have allowed himself to be sweet talked into giving Kai another chance, and he was regretting it.
Nope, un-un, no way was Damon staying here if Kai was the reason he fled NYC to DC.
"Bonnie," Stefan the mind reader must have seen the dots I was connecting, "can I talk to you?"
Nope, un-un, no way was I going to allow Stefan to manipulate me into cutting his brother some slack.
"Please," Stefan tacked on and then lightly tugged me from the seat and led me straight to his bedroom.
He enclosed us inside. Sunlight flooded within since his room faced the street.
I couldn't help where my eyes landed but they landed on the bed, on the black tufted headboard that I could see myself lounging against, hair wild, skin flushed, sated. Back on track, Bonnie.
"I know how you feel about Damon staying here in general," Stefan shuffled closer, his head lowered in that way to make eye contact with me, "but it will only literally be for a couple of days. I'll drop him off at a hotel myself if he's not out by the end of the week."
"Wherever Damon is, drama follows. You know that, Stefan."
His hands smoothed down my arms, and thick fingers sunk between mine. "I do know that. I would like to think my brother has matured…that's he learned he can't act irresponsibly and think there won't be consequences. The only way to see that is if I give him a chance."
Sucking in a breath, I looked away from the man standing in front of me. "He doesn't have to prove that under our roof, but…he's your brother and this is your home, too. I can stay with Suhad if Damon works my nerves too much."
"Hopefully it won't come to that. I don't like it when you're not home."
My heart swelled, but cynicism whipped out her trusty stick pin and popped that balloon.
"What are you going to do if I meet some wonderful guy and he asks me to move in with him because we're getting married?"
Stefan's nostrils flared, and his chest tested the limits of the stitching holding his shirt together as he inhaled. "I'll cross that bridge when I get there. For now I have you all to myself…in a…uh…strictly platonic manner," he coughed.
"Platonic, right," I said skeptically.
Like I did with him last night, Stefan cupped my shoulder, squeezed it affectionately. "Thank you, Bonnie."
Together, Stefan and I left his room and rejoined Damon in the kitchen who had finished his food and stolen two strips of bacon off my plate. Like I wouldn't notice.
"That was quick," he sipped his coffee.
I sat down heavily and ignored him leaving Stefan to lay down the law, pass out the syllabus on what would be expected of Damon as a guest in our already cramped apartment.
"You can stay with us, Damon but you can't invite anyone over. I don't want strangers in and out of my house. If you want to fuck you're gonna have to take it to their place or somewhere else. Anything you finish you replace. Anything you break you replace or have fixed. Stay out of Bonnie's bedroom, make yourself ghost while she's working."
Color slightly rose up Damon's neck. "Anything else?" he bit out.
"Be respectful, that's all I ask," Stefan concluded and bit into his toast. "Bon, anything you want to add?"
"Yes," I bore into Damon who didn't back down, "don't get too comfortable."
Damon pursed his lips, "Consider it done." He switched the topic of discussion. "Did Stefan tell you the other great news?"
"What other great news?"
Stefan became even quieter. Whatever info Damon was about to launder to me hopefully would give some insight into my roomie's odd behavior from last night. The excessive drinking—for him—his good impersonation of Squidward something was the cause of it. Stefan didn't get perturbed for no reason.
Damon rooted around his mouth with his index finger, sucked a tooth. "Our mom is getting hitched."
"Lily is getting married?"
"To Enzo." Damon dropped the proverbial mike.
I did a double-take. "You're shitting me."
"I shit not."
Stefan revealed his feelings on the matter by abruptly rising from the table, the legs of the chair scraped brutally against the floor. He snatched up his plate and empty coffee mug and loaded his dishes in the dishwasher. For a moment Stefan white knuckled the lip of the counter.
I wouldn't waste time asking if he were all right. He was barely holding his civility together. Between he and Damon, I would say Stefan was more of the mama's boy, but he didn't run to her with every little problem he faced, or took her word as absolute. He showed respect and deference to Lily Salvatore more than Damon ever tried to do.
That wasn't the crux of the problem. The problem lied in the fact Enzo (whose name was illegal to say in Stefan's presence) would be making himself a permanent fixture in the Salvatore brood. The man was bold. He screwed Stefan's college girlfriend on his birthday and made sure they were caught. My roommate had valid reasons for wanting that bastard struck from public record, reduced to less than a footnote. Like my dad the educator would say when encountering a difficult student who raised hell: mom should have swallowed. I was pretty sure that's how Stefan felt about Enzo's persistent existence.
"I gotta go or I'll be late for work. Damon, don't be a bitch to my roommate."
"You know me, Stef I can be perfectly polite."
Rising from the table, I followed Stefan into the living room, and was partially distracted by the mountain of suitcases stacked in a corner. Inwardly I growled that Damon was staying with us. In due time I'd get over it.
"Stefan," I reached for his forearm halting his search for his work materials. He wouldn't look at me, but I cupped his cheek and forced his head in my direction. "That's what was bothering you last night?"
"More like all day," his words carried a razor sharp edge. He breathed heavily. "I don't want to think on how the hell those two hooked up and all that…ugh. I can't talk about that right now. I just need to get to the office and do my thing. I'll see you tonight."
Stefan removed my hand, kissed my forehead, and left.
"Give him a blow job. That'll make him feel better."
"Shut the fuck up, Damon."
He snickered from his seat at the table, twisted to regard me. "How has it been living with my brother?"
"Much better than it would be living with you."
"You're not fooling me."
I wasn't going to participate in this baiting knowing where it would lead. "It doesn't bother you that your mom is essentially marrying your ex best-friend? Who also happened to betray your brother."
A flash of pique scrunched Damon's face. "You want me to cry and write about it in my diary like Stefan? Donald Trump will be president before that happens."
Tool.
"I want you to be a gotdamn human being and show some real emotion for once instead of treating everything like a joke."
Damon rolled his shoulders and carried his dirty dishes to the kitchen. From where I was standing in the living room I could tell I pricked a nerve. Good. Damon had the propensity to be obtuse and exasperating, but I knew it bothered him just as much as it damn sure bothered Stefan that someone he trusted, valued as a friend and who screwed him over was marrying his mother.
I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around the courtship of Lily and Enzo, and honestly it wasn't my business. I wouldn't wish them happily ever after, but I would send up a prayer or two for someone to knock a shred of sense in Lily's head that would lead to the cancellation of her pending nuptials.
Nevertheless, I had things to do. Babysitting Damon wasn't one of them.
"Where are you going?" he asked and sauntered into the living room.
"Unlike you I actually have an objective for today."
"I'm going to need a key so I can come and go as I like."
"Take that up with your brother."
"You really don't want me here, do you?" Damon moved closer. Now he was looming.
What was your first clue, genius? Plastering on a smile I reserved for those I really couldn't stand, "You're welcome here as long as you remain on your best behavior."
Damon grinned, fingered one of my curls. "You and I both know that won't last."
"Exactly."
"God," he bit into his bottom lip. "I missed you, Bonnie."
I slapped his hand away. "The feeling isn't exactly mutual."
Tired of looking at the same walls in my apartment, I grabbed a book, iPod, cell, keys, smoothie, and headed up the roof. Social gatherings were typically held on the roof on nice nights like this where the sun was lowering below the horizon, a cool breeze was blowing, and noise pollution was minimal.
Damon was out running the streets, Stefan had come home, quiet and reserved. He popped his head into my "office" to let me know he would be going for a run, asked if I had a taste for anything specific for dinner. I had eaten a late lunch at Green Turtle. The Mediterranean burger I consumed had hit all the right spots, and hours later I still felt full. Stefan said he had a hankering for wings and fries and would probably grab something from this small restaurant a few blocks away.
The roof wasn't totally vacant. A couple occupied a pair of chaises, voices low; an occasional burst of laughter was shared between them. Another young-ish looking man stood in a far corner yapping away on his phone.
I headed to the right since all the activity was happening to the left. My steps slowed when I immediately recognized the bare-chested, sweaty guy pumping iron.
Stefan was lifting free weights, earbuds lodged in his ears, mouth grimacing with each completed rep.
It was impossible to look away as I found myself being engrossed with the way his muscles stretched and contracted under sinewy, beige skin. His gray basketball shorts showed off he didn't have a typical white boy ass. He had cushion.
Stefan must have sensed he had an audience because he looked my way, but didn't stop doing his arm curls.
Who knew what my face was doing. If I was staring at him rapturously or impassively. I had my impassive mask down pact, but my bottom lip didn't feel connected to my top and there was a definite draft entering my mouth. Snapping out of it, I cleared the distance between us, found an empty chaise, and plopped down on it.
"I see you had the same idea…sort of," Stefan indicated the items in my hands.
"I guess so," I replied and wondered if he heard me over the music streaming into his ears.
He dropped the free weight, and removed a single headphone from his ear. "I don't plan to be up here for much longer. Amber is stopping by."
Just toss me off the roof. "Oh. You're finally off suspension?"
Stefan chortled, picked up a towel and wiped his face. I ogled his obliques as they stretched. "The Nat's are playing tonight. She has tickets and I'm sure she wants me to go with her."
"And I'm guessing she didn't come right out and ask you if you'd be her date."
"No. She'll make suggestions, drop hints, but won't say 'Stefan will you go with me to such and such.'"
"Maybe she wants you to take the lead when it comes to outings. If you leave everything up to her it sets a precedent, establishes power and when you rail against it, that's when problems occur."
Stefan waltzed to where I was seated, grabbed my legs, and placed them over his lap as he sat down. He took my flip flop off and began massaging the arch of my foot.
"If I haven't said it before, I'll say it now…it comes in handy living with a relationship expert."
"I'm no expert."
"You're the closest one I know," Stefan amended, dug his knuckles into my heel.
A moan escaped, couldn't be helped.
Stefan stared at me, I stared back unabashedly. His eyes lowered to my foot. "How was Damon today?"
My head fell back. "He left shortly after breakfast. I haven't seen him since. Feeling better?"
"Marginally. Sorry I was an ogre."
"You have every reason to be considering the bomb your mom dropped on you. How are you really, Stefan?"
He took his attention away from my legs and feet, stared at the horizon. "It was years ago that everything happened, but it still feels fresh, you know? I can't escape feeling that Enzo is playing a fucking game, playing with my mom's heart, and that he doesn't truly give a shit about her, love her. I'm her son. I should look after her interests."
"Then that's precisely what you need to do. Share your concerns with Lily. Talk to her, question her. Hell, hire a PI to follow Enzo and see what he's up to when he's not around your mom."
"That's not a bad idea," his fingers skimmed across my hairless legs. Sparks traveled, curved inward, burrowed their way to my happy place. "What if…what if it's real? What if…they're really in love?"
The conundrum. "Only one way to find out. You're gonna have to see for yourself."
As one could imagine that probably turned Stefan's stomach all the way off. "I'll think about it," he murmured quietly.
The mood was killed when Stefan's phone began buzzing. He dug for it out of his pocket and I did what I could to offer him some privacy by pretending not to eavesdrop.
"Hey," the timbre of his voice lowered, became intimate. Must have been Amber. He didn't stop stroking my legs though. "You're downstairs? All right, I'll be down in a minute."
"Bout to abandon me?" I pouted.
Stefan turned apologetic. "I need a distraction. Amber provides that," he placed my legs aside and got to his feet. "You'll probably be asleep by the time I get back. If so, sweet dreams."
Only if you appear in them. Stefan collected his towel, free weights, and cleared the roof.
I sat, considered, decided. Turning over my phone, plugging in that trusty passcode, I scrolled through my contacts until I found what I was looking for. Nervousness hijacked my steely resolve and, cricking my neck I shoved it aside, and dug deep for that fierce Bonnie Bennett who wouldn't let anyone know she was intimidated even when she was.
The line rang five times before it was answered. "Hello?"
"Jared? Hey, it's Bonnie. Are you busy?"
A/N: Thank you, loves for reading. Drop me a line.
