When she had packed to go to the boarding house she wasn't planning a pleasure trip, nor did she figure she would end up stuck there until God knows when. She barely knew what she was doing, which was stuffing clothes inside her bag, so now she doesn't have anything fancy or particularly pretty to wear.
Not that it matters, since "It's not a real date."
She told herself so at least four times in the last hour, but some part of her must be still not getting the hint because the person reflecting back in the mirror looks nervous.
Bonnie brushes her cheek with her hands in hope to take away some rouge and then she remembers she didn't put any make up on yet. The thought that she is actually blushing makes her eyes enlarge for the horror.
She shakes her head with a sigh, and takes the hairbrush to fix her curls. She's going to be reasonable about this because she really needs air, and distraction, and she must not panic now.
There's no reason to because "It's not a real date."
This is getting redundant.
She takes a breath and sits at her toilette table.
"Listen, Bonnie," she tells herself, "Get a grip! This is Damon, so if anything else it won't be boring. And he's so in love with Elena that he can't even remember what gender you belong to, so you're possibly going to have a good time and he will not care what you are wearing. You don't have to put up with any expectations of any sort here. Relax!"
She puts on some make up, wears a simple necklace with a crystal and she sighs thinking she didn't bring a pair of matching earrings. Then she remembers that "It's not a real date."
#
When she steps in front of him he's dressed in his usual black jeans, black shirt, and flaunting his unfailing cocky smile. She proudly holds his gaze, because she's not nervous anymore.
Aside from the fact that it's not a real date, it's not like they never spent time together alone since she's been there. And he is doing this just to make her relax a bit; she's not exactly a champion in this field but she might as well give it a try.
He gives her an approving look. Her lace pale pink top only lets him guess her skin under it, and she's wearing jeans and heels.
She's casually beautiful, but he guesses she does not know.
"You're very pretty," he admits. The natural tone and look he uses to say the words tell her he's making a statement, not trying to charm her, and it makes her comfortable enough to thank him.
He walks towards her and turns to stop at her side, offering her his right arm. Since she likes so much Victorian novels he's sure she will appreciate it.
"See?" he asks, "How many guys offered you their right arm?"
"Are you fishing for compliments?" she asks back, as her arm links with his.
"Yes."
She smiles as they walk together to the patio doors.
"Aren't you happy I wouldn't be slaughtering you if I was actually carrying a sword?"
"Did you ever carry one?"
"I'm not that old," he says, "We had muskets. But I knew how to treat a lady."
"So you just forgot?"
"Funny," he says, with a tone that suggest the opposite.
In the garden there's a table set and plates covered with silver domes; it would be very dark if it wasn't for the light coming from the inside of the house.
He pushes back the chair for her and she sits at the table.
"I didn't bring along my night-vision glasses," she says, "what now?"
"I was planning to feel you up in the dark and then blame it on Stefan," he answers, "But since you feel so unsympathetic I'll have to shut you up."
Damon goes back inside, turns off the lights in the room and a few seconds later everything illuminates in the garden. There are tiny lights all around her, like she's surrendered by fireflies.
When the street lights come on and the fireflies flicker
I am walking her home
Making plans
Bonnie looks around her, breathless, and she can just gasp in pleasure.
There's something warm in the middle of her breast, like he turned on a light inside her too.
"I have a reputation to maintain," he says. He stands next to the table and looks over his shoulder to fix his eyes on her smiling face, "Do you think you can see now?"
What she sees, raising her eyes on him, is his pale skin become seraphic, and she suddenly thinks that Damon Salvatore is dream material. Not hers, of course, but still, he is.
"Maybe you overdone it a bit," she's smiling too much for him to take her seriously but he plays along.
"You think so?"
"This is a friends night. Did you have this set up for Alaric too?"
"No," he answers, "He liked slow dancing and massages."
With her shoes in her hands I am watching her dance
As the hem of her dress gently kisses the grass
Bonnie laughs. Her shoulders shake slightly with it. A bright and happy laugh, like the ones she laughs when she is with her friends. When she's with his brother. Just much better because this time he did it.
A lock of hair has fallen against her cheek and his fingers itch to push it behind her ear, but he doesn't move. He's not trying to romance her. It would be totally out of place.
He likes the platonic route here.
They both eat; she compliments him for ordering food so well, and he thanks her like he's actually pleased.
He's a good cook but he had to come up with a decent setting to give her some sort of change so he didn't have time; he'll have to show her one of these days, though, he decides, so he'll have her begging him to prepare something for her.
They talk about things; they cannot really tell what they talk about because they jump from one word to another, from one subject to another, or more likely from one snarky remark to another and it's just amazing that they can actually understand what the other is referring to, since they proceed so fast, to bother to pick one topic and stick to it.
Since she doesn't usually eat much during dinner they go from main course to the dessert – tiramisù – and she looks pleased with his choice.
It suddenly rains on us
She is laughing and turns up her hands
The only problem is that the fork barely touches the dish when rain comes pouring down like it's the Flood and he must hold her by the waist and guide her in to make her move faster.
The lights go out once they are in, and a stroke of lightening clears the sky. The thunder arrives to their ears much later and she hugs herself as she steps back from the glass.
"Do you think we broke a law of nature?" she asks. The smile is there in her voice.
"Just one?" he asks back, and he turns around to look at her "I'm disappointed. We'll have to do better next time."
His voice dies a bit on the last word because she's there all wet and smiling and hugging herself, and he's there with something in the middle of his throat that he can't swallow. And they are together in the dark.
"I wouldn't want to damage your reputation," she humors him and tries to catch his expression. The dark is too thick for her to make out his features but the air is suddenly heavy with tension.
She thinks she's imagining things because, it turns out, Damon Salvatore is dream material.
Like autumn turns leaves
Winter will breathe cold on our necks
Snow in our paths
She reminds herself that there's no need for her to make things worse, and so she turns her head to the side to try and focus on what's happening. Which is nothing.
He takes a step forward and she jumps back.
"Are you scared of me?" he asks, unsure.
"No, no," she says, "Of course not. I just can't see much and I didn't realize you were moving."
"Right," and he takes a few steps; not towards her.
She hears the sound of shutters, and she can guess his body kneeling in front of a cabinet while he's looking for something.
Half a minute later a candle is lit up, and then another and another.
"Better?" he asks, standing, and inside her mind a voice is screaming that no, it's not better at all because now she can see him and something about him is so tender, something about the whole situation is so intimate that her legs are getting weaker by the second, but still she lies, "Yes, much better."
She takes one of the two candles on the coffee table and brushes one hand along her harm to tell him, "I'm really cold, I'll go back to my room now."
"Sure."
Wherever she goes
All that I know about us is that beautiful things never last
That's why fireflies flash
He would offer her to accompany her, if it didn't sound like a very stupid thing to say. And if she wasn't halfway up the stairs already.
He suspects there's been a major fail in his no-date-no-romancing plan.
#
Damon has been sitting on the carpet for an hour. There are more candles lit in front of the fireplace, the storm seems like it wants to go on forever, and his glass is empty. He's trying to decide if pouring himself another one or just drink from the bottle when he hears her steps.
His blue eyes can see her moving in the dark, her hand shelter the little flame of the candle so when she moves forward it doesn't die, but he's not sure it isn't just the alcohol. Yet, he didn't drink much and even if he did his fast healing would still make it hard to be properly stoned.
Bonnie stops, noticing him and pulls at fabric of the big sweatshirt she's wearing to cover her legs better as she walks to him.
"Hi," she says, kneeling on the carpet, three steps away from him, and putting down her candle. She's wearing a white sweatshirt, with the blue print Duke, which is too big for her.
He wonders who gave it to her.
"Hi yourself." he says.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asks; his chin is on his arm, as it rests on his knee, bent up.
"Not really."
"I didn't thank you before," she adds, "For the evening."
"I heard friends have this ritual meetings and it sounded exotic so I wanted to give it a try," he says, "How did I do?"
"I think you should arrange the weather better next time," she answers, "But Flood aside, you did pretty well."
"I left a message to God, I think his machine is full."
She smiles and pushes a lock of hair behind her hair. His fingers itch again. So much for the platonic route.
"I know you lied."
"I'm sure I did a lot worse, but I'm not following here," he says, confused "You'll have to be more specific."
"About Jeremy."
It takes him effort to remember who she's talking about. And then he turns his eyes on the candles.
Well, a reality check will do him good. She's in love with Jeremy, and he's in love with Elena, and their ritual meeting happened because of this in the first place. Good, that's good.
It doesn't really matter that he wants to crush Jeremy's skull right now, because it only means he's getting protective over his friend.
"It's okay," she says, "I'm grateful, really, but I'm fine."
"Are you?" he asks, looking her in the eyes.
She seems to think his question over, and bites her lower lip. If she's not trying to distract him, she's doing a miserable job at that.
"I guess, sometimes, I just feel… alone."
It's a big confession for someone that likes control so much as Bonnie does, even if he doubts that she's over the young Gilbert.
"I'm stuck here, always at the same point of my life, and everyone I love goes on without me…"
"They'll get nowhere without you, you know," he says, "Not alive, anyway."
"I suppose I can be useful."
She doesn't sound pleased at the word she found to define herself. Damon thinks she should use better words. Words like brave and essential, but he can't tell her. Can he?
"Do you feel alone now?"
It sounds a lot more dangerous than telling her in her face what he thinks of her but she's the smartest one between them and she looks so beautiful and accessible now. And she never was before. Not with him.
She gasps, and she tries to understand how she feels now. But words don't come and suddenly it's too late to answer because she lost the moment.
He watches her mouth and she holds her breath.
There are many scenarios showing up into his head when he leans into her: he barely touches her lips before she push him away asking him if he is out of his mind – which he hopes he is because that would make things better; in the second scenario she turns her head and he finds himself brushing her cheekbone while she pretends that she didn't notice his true intention – he'll think all night about the smell of her skin and will stare at the ceiling cursing at himself; the other versions are pretty much similar, only sometimes some sort of supernatural creature guarding the world's balance drags him away because this is really the last straw.
In none of the versions his brain is flooded with, Bonnie stays still, with green eyes wide open, and lets his lips brush hers so lightly that his stomach hurts.
#
Note Another chapter betaed by 1beaut. The song used in this chapter is "Fireflies" by Ron Pope (live at Flux Studio version)