Title: Casualties Of Accidental Dating
Author: skysamuelle
Author's Note: Betaed by Emmy/martinigirl15, inspired by impishdragon
Rating: PG 13ish
Timeline: Post 'Fool Me Once'
Summary: Extended version of my drabble ' Accidental First Date' that somehow morphed in a real fic. A series of accidental dates between Bonnie Bennett and Damon Salvatore stir feelings of a deeper nature than anyone would have guessed.
Part 4
VI
Contrary to popular opinion, Mandrake roots are not useful when it comes to fertility and love spells, although Bonnie supposes they could come handy in healing a scarred uterus or something similar. Their main use is –surprise, surprise –in the making of a poison that can be modified to affect in various ways nearly every kind of magical creature- from trolls to pixies to vampires to even darker monsters- to incapacitate or to kill, depending on the dosage.
Even more importantly, witches use mandrake for a very special kind of oil. 'The Flying Ointment', they called it in the Dark Ages, because the Inquisition was certain that it enabled witches to fly on their brooms. In reality, the only place it allowed them to fly to…was inside other people's dreams. Some sorceresses had used them to bend people to their whims after plaguing them with horrific nightmares, others had used it to drive a potential lover to obsession, others yet had destroyed their enemies' sanity.
Bonnie had often shuddered reading of such terrible stories, but it had not dissuaded from her intent. She trusts herself and her integrity to not abuse her supernatural means, and she is determined to not be helpless ever again. Since Grams died, the guilt of not being strong enough to save her or to resolve her problems on her own plagued her constantly, together with the fear of being forced into a similar situation before she is ready.
She knows now that there are threats, hidden in the darkness, and it would be so very easy to give in to the terror of her visions, the fear of losing all that she hold dear, only because of what she is. Unless she can be certain of her capacity to fight back.
So she doesn't feel guilty and she doesn't blame Elena for being a bit judgmental. Someday the other girl will thank her.
The real problem with mandrake roots is that they cannot be simply ripped from the ground like you would do with every other plant. They are sort of…animated and their scream when they are ripped out can truly either kill or send into a coma the less experienced spell-worker. They need to be 'put to sleep' with magic before being moved and you can't touch them with your bare hands because they are poisonous. You can't even dice them like potatoes once you collect them, because you need to kill them first...with alcohol poisoning. This requires keeping each root separated from the others, inside a jar filled with an alcoholic beverage for about three months.
Therefore, by the day after Bonnie's stroll in the woods, the young witch is already wondering if she has not bitten off more than she is able to chew.
Now she has her bedroom's cupboard housing jittering jars with creepy, potato-like things that are shaped like human bodies and somehow manage to blubber while immersed in bourbon. Apparently they don't just get killed right away.
It's a relief that her father is out of town for work… she will have time to replace the missing bottle without being seen.
The liquor store cashier eyed her with a certain suspicion when she went in, but he wouldn't call her on her age when she eventually would go to him with her purchase of choice. The popular high school crowd has its ways to procure 'heavy drinks' for parties and she asked Tyler to drop in a good word with his 'contact.'
Bonnie frowns, remembering the excuse she had used with her friend. She could have trusted Tyler with the truth. After all, he knows she is a witch, and he is a werewolf, so there is not much of a reason to lie with him. Sure, she saw him being a real jerk with a lot of people through the years, but she was never one of them.
So why had she told him that she had accidentally broken the bottle cleaning house? She could have told at least part of the truth and for some reason, it puzzles her to know that she lied on automatic pilot, relying on Tyler's eagerness to please.
She is not using anyone, so why was she so sincere to a vampire she dislikes and so reluctant to be that way with a wolf she likes?
Why is she even giving the fact all this importance?
"We keep meeting in the most interesting places."
She turns away from the string of bourbon bottles she has been glaring at, only to focus the glare on Mystic Falls' resident source-of-all-evil, who stands at the other end of the aisle.
It's bizarre how just one of those nasty smirks of his manages to transform the most smoothly-pronounced line into a provocation.
"Is stalking a popular vampire hobby, or just yours?"
She doesn't add 'and Stefan's' out of loyalty, although she was a little freaked out when Elena told her whole the story of how he stalked for months before approaching her. It's details like this one that always remind her that vampires are more than humans on a blood-diet. They don't think like men anymore.
"I would call it a professional diversion."
Damon's smirk thins, but she sees it only for a few seconds because, only a disturbance of air after, he is right behind her, his chest grazing her shoulder, and she is not sure of how to move away without giving him a chance to make it embarrassing.
"A century of experience, and you still don't get the concept of personal space," she huffs instead, remaining very, very still.
"Oh, I get it all right. I just find it overrated in most cases. "
Turning around to face him and shouldering him away forcefully, Bonnie finds herself mirroring what she calls 'his usual expression': a sugarcoated smile with a bare hint of friendly, elegant threat.
"Unless it keeps Stefan away from your evil master plans"
"You don't get nearly enough credit for your wit."
Arching her brow inquisitively, she didn't step away from him. "Are you truly quoting 'Gossip Girl'?"
"A good line is a good line, it doesn't matter where it comes from"- he tilts his head, taking on a pensive pose- "I remember it because my memory is just as impressive as the rest of me, what's your excuse?"
Unusually bold, the witch leans marginally closer, so that she is practically breathing on his chin and looking up into his dilated blue eyes: "No need to get defensive, Mr. Homicidal Maniac."
The action is so close to flirting that it sends a ripple of shock through the brunette as soon it's done and the scene replays in her head.
When the realization has her shrinking back from him, her posture stiffer as she straightens and bites the inside of her cheek to keep the smile unwavering, she notices the same surprise reflected on his face, at least until his visage goes utterly blank again and his gaze grows less genuine and more forceful, challenging.
The moment passes between them where it feels like they are hanging on a precarious balance. The vampire might push or the witch might retreat, and it would change everything in a multitude of unexplainable ways.
But it passes, and they dismiss each other at the same moment with nothing but a blink.
"So Bonnie, are you an alcoholic?"
Damon's tone is smarmy and insinuating, his body angled away from her. Bonnie rolls her eyes at him, relieved that everything is normal again.
"It's like Hitler just asked Buddha if he ever had a single violent thought."
"I hope you understand the comparison is not exactly flattering to you."
"Goodbye, Damon"
She shakes her head like she finds him impossible to deal with, grabbing a bottle off the shelf, and he grins over her exasperation but doesn't look after her as she leaves.
He tells himself he doesn't want to. Why would he?
VII
The concept is simple.
Caroline has organized this nice school auction for beneficence: bide well and you take off for a date with one of her hot cheerleaders.
Damon would think the whole ordeal pathetic if not for the significant particular that the blonde has managed to rope in Elena as well and Stefan is absolutely convinced that his older brother wouldn't miss an opportunity like this to spirit her away for the evening.
It sounds like something he would do, but being lectured and warned off in advance by Stefan has truly ruined all the anticipation, regardless of how much he hates to disappoint.
Inspiration strikes him while he is feeding off Stefan's silent glowers and Caroline and Elena's occasional concerned glances.
Bonnie walks up to the stage, gorgeous in her sea green, knee-length dress, dark hair perfectly curled and in two loosened, naughty-school girl plaits, and he can't avoid wetting his lips in satisfaction.
"This is my best friend, here – Caroline perks up into the microphone, in that manner of hers he has always particularly disliked- So we will start the bidding at 100 dollars."
"100 dollars." a geek parrots from the back.
"200 dollars," says a confident voice from Damon's right.
Stupid dog- the vampire condescendingly acknowledges, glancing at the jock and sitting up with a devilish grin.
"500 dollars." He offers giddily, because if there's something Damon Salvatore doesn't do, it's half-measures.
Eerie silence follows and the outraged expression on the witch's face is priceless. Caroline's mouth is hanging open, Stefan's forehead is brooding harder than usual and Elena's lovely lips are in a thin line.
Damon feels immensely satisfied.
"We have 500 dollars over there". -The blonde chirps with a blindingly artificial grin - "Do I hear 600, somewhere?"
"600," Tyler Lockwood insists, much to Damon's annoyance. It makes his fangs flash against his tongue that Bonnie lightens up from within instead. Honestly, why would want someone like her to defile herself with that Neanderthal?
"Very well-" Caroline hurries up, eager to finish the deal, but she is not truly given the chance to.
"1000 dollars."
Ignore Elena, bid on the best friend, piss off Stefan and all is right with the world. -his subconscious sings along. It's quintessentially the perfect plan and he is very proud of it.
People are staring at him and that just makes his triumph better.
The pause where Bonnie keeps glancing pleadingly at the werewolf and Stefan and Elena whisper to each other stretches a bit long before Caroline finally surrenders.
"Going once"- the head cheerleader announces to the room, visibly resigned- "1000 going twice… sold."
Some nobodies clap while the witch strolls off the stage and makes her way over to his seat.
"Congratulations"- she simpers sweetly while she sits beside him, green eyes hostile and hard – "on ruining my evening."
"Thank you", he dishes back, grin actually reaching his eyes as he gives the Lockwood boy a victorious little wave.
"You're welcome," Bonnie says, at the same time that her mind reaches out for his, literally shoving a thought into his head: 'I know what you are doing and I won't let you use me to bait Elena, is that clear?'
Once more, he is surprised at how easily she gets his schemes. Bright girl.
'Don't sell yourself short, sweetheart. It was 1000 dollars I just invested into your company. Maybe I like it. And I have seriously won you major popularity points, so why complain?'
'Gee, I don't know. Probably because every minute I spend with you, it's one minute less I might be spending with someone who is not playing games, and whom I might actually like?'
And with a mental snort, Bonnie's mind backs away from his and he feels that loss more keenly than he thinks he should.
"We are all playing"- Damon comments out loud, casually running his thumb over the back of her hand- "and you can do better than a drooling dog."
She shivers and flinches away from his touch, her expression wary. He doesn't like it.
"Says the resident sociopath."
--
Damon brings her to see a British movie 'The Wicker Tree,' and while the stubborn girl will not allow him to touch her, not even a little (he gets a tiny electric jolt as soon as his palm grazes her knee) …he doesn't get bored.
Her opinions are not uninteresting to hear, and he gets to complain about the 2006 remake of a similar movie 'The Wicker Man' as long as he wants.
Apparently her grandmother got her to see the 1976 version once, and she was disappointed when the version with Nicolas Cage turned out to be a pale imitation of the original.
All things considered, it's the longest they've ever talked without her biting his head off at some point. It makes him feel almost …accomplished.
He walks her home like he's the man he used to be before Katherine, and the last thing Bonnie tells him is "this has been less painful than I thought it was going to be"
"I behaved". - he preens a little- "do I get a reward?"
"Sure. I won't curse you into sparkling like Edward Cullen for dragging me into your insane little plots."
But underneath the snark, there's something else that suggests to him he might kiss her now and not have his hair set on fire, like she promised she would if he tried anything. She looks relaxed, the same content glow about her he sees on the witch when she is around her closest friends, having fun. Damon thinks he might be pleased that he was the one to give her that, if he allowed himself to be.
Something clenches inside him as he shakes the feeling off. Acting all chivalrous and kissing naïve girls on their doorstep is not him.
"Feel free to share around with your girlfriends how brilliant of a gentleman I can be."
And just like that, the sense of possibility hanging between them is shattered. Her eyes lose some of that shine as her guard goes up again. "Dream on."
Bonnie doesn't sound disappointed or angry but he feels, deep down, that she should be. It's what he feels.
Walking back to the Salvatore boarding house, he can't truly explain to himself why he hadn't exploited that golden opportunity.
He could have kissed her, whether it was means for a purpose or not, and he would have enjoyed it.
Since when is Damon Salvatore the one to deny himself anything?
It's because you know you don't deserve it, something like that, so pure and good. You would destroy it. You would destroy her- taunts a voice that sounds way too much like Katherine's, from the back of his mind.
Damon blocks it out until he has completely convinced himself that he never heard it in the first place.