Damon enters the kitchen armed with the folded newspaper in his hand, the powdery, dry aroma of the black ink on newsprint tickles his nostrils as he observes the girl sitting at the table with a distrustful gaze.
They left things in a strange place last night, she disappeared into her room as soon as Caroline was out the door, irritated with his childish move to drag her friend into their little fight, turning her face away and her nose up like she expected better from him, which was really a naïve thing to do. He's human and prone to mundane accidents and silly flukes, but he's long ago accepted the fact that you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, and he'll feel starved if she goes away, so he's ready and eager to break anything that gets in his way.
Still, he doesn't like the tense air between them, the heavy silence as he sits down opposite her with a "Hey", trying to get to a truce but she only mutters a "good morning" for the sake of politeness.
She's typing on her phone with one hand and filling her cup with the other. There's no tea in sight and though he's been protesting every day finding the disgusting beverage ready for him, he feels the bite of regret now that she's leaving him to care for himself. It's the lamest passive-aggressive behavior ever displayed by a human being, but on a Bonnie Bennett Scale it's still decently high considering how she's always catered to anyone's needs, it hurts a bit more than the time he was tortured with a nail gun, though, being currently prone to pesky things like permanent damage and death, he wouldn't repeat the experience to be sure.
There are two more cups on the table, so he supposes they're going to have visitors, probably Caroline who will play referee and try to cheat in Bonnie's favor. He should have fawned over her beforehand just to make sure he'd have the upper hand if needed, but he hadn't planned so in advance, because he had never considered Bonnie being so eager to get away.
He takes the coffee pot, once she's done filling her cup, to fill his own, and speaks as naturally as possible, pretending they didn't have a fight just last night. "Waffles or pancakes?"
She makes an interrogative, noncommittal sound before raising her confused green eyes to him.
"So, which one?" he asks, again.
"What?" she asks back, looking at her screen once again.
"I'm going to perform my culinary art for you this morning, so what will it be, waffles or pancakes?" he's not at all discouraged by her reaction, or lack thereof.
"Yogurt," she replies without raising her eyes from the cellphone.
He's momentarily stunned, blinking as his brain tries to remember the recipe for yogurt. He's pretty sure one of his mother's servants made it for them a few times before he left for war.
"Well," he starts hesitantly, "I could try to dig up the recipe but I'm pretty sure it needs to incubate for seven to nine hours, so maybe you should consider broadening your horizons this morning."
Bonnie blinks a couple of times before finally staring at him like he's gone crazy. "What are you talking about?"
Is she pulling his leg? Is he hallucinating? Is he ready to embark on a ten-hour process so that she has homemade yogurt for breakfast? They are all valid questions to have.
"No, what are you talking about?" Damon is starting to feel irritated with the whole situation, and that is entirely her fault because things were going great until he found out they weren't.
"I already had breakfast," she replies, slightly peeved. "I had a yogurt with nuts."
My own? He wants to ask, feeling stupidly at the mercy of her mood, but the kitchen's door opening behind him restrains him from doing so. It could wrongly appear to a stranger that he is being childish and is solely responsible for this fight, so he just shrugs it off and opens the paper, trying to tune out Caroline's voice.
But it's Alaric who speaks instead, "I'm ready if you are."
Damon lifts his head to see his friend enter the kitchen, eyeing the coffee immediately.
"Good morning," Bonnie says with a smile, politely filling a cup for him. Damon looks away like he doesn't care that she hasn't extended the same courtesy to him. "I'm glad you could make it. I have an appointment I couldn't postpone and Damon needs someone that knows how to pick a suit."
"Which would prompt the question of why you've asked him," he mutters, turning one page of the newspaper. "I wonder which one of his t-shirts inspired your unwavering faith in his taste."
"At least I don't stare at my open drawer wondering which black t-shirt I should wear," his friend deadpans, looking down at him with scoff.
"That's because you don't have the required physique to make a black shirt look that good."
She ignores them and hands a cup of coffee to Alaric, continuing, "I'm sure Caroline already sent you the pictures of Elena's dress—" Caroline had sent her the pictures a few days ago, together with a suggestion for her attire as best man.
Bonnie had spent half the night staring at a smiling Elena wrapped in a beautiful, sleeveless Tony Ward mermaid dress in beaded silk with a plunging neckline and overskirt, wondering what she'd felt wearing that dress, if she had cried thinking of the life ahead of her, of the man that was going to wait for her at the altar so that he could put his heart in her hands. Bonnie slept badly that night, there was a slight pang that kept digging into her side, but it wasn't jealousy or anguish. No, it was probably indigestion, because Elena looked incredible in between the romantic little girl Bonnie remembers and the resolute woman she met on upon her return.
"At four in the morning, with advice on suitable styles for the suit," Alaric confirms, breaking her wandering thoughts.
"—so you'll have to make sure it matches," Bonnie finishes.
"And you know what'll happen to you if you get it wrong," Damon piques, smiling his most ironic smile and batting his eyelashes at Alaric in a derisive manner. "But someone has already started dumping responsibilities like they are too beneath her."
"That someone needs to go and place the order for the cake." Bonnie's voice comes out shriller than she had intended. "Then, that particular someone needs to talk to the officiant and bring him the marriage license, and after that the unconcerned someone has an appointment with the owner of a strip club. So, you see, someone can't be omnipresent," she explains looking straight at Alaric, instead, who decides to hide his mouth and keep himself busy with the cup of coffee just in case they decide he should be the one to settle whatever this thing that's going on is.
"If you needed pocket money to support your exotic life you should have told me. I could have offered you a job," Damon says sarcastically. "I doubt they'll let you wear anything with pockets in that place. Or anything at all for that matter," he deadpans, making a show of stopping and thinking it over. "On second thought…" He taps one finger against his shaved chin. "…if you feel in your heart of hearts that this is the path for you, as your best friend I will support you and be there for each and every show you do." Damon draws a cross over his heart with a thumb while offering a salacious smile.
"Aren't you the best?" Bonnie keeps her tone flat, hoping he can't see her blush. She's been so focused on winning this little argument that she's forgotten his uncanny ability to jump from one mood to the other, bringing her along for the ride. Bonnie has always been so proud of the way she could hold a grudge, unless Caroline and Elena were involved, but she realized a long time ago that Damon could bypass every security measure she had worked so carefully on.
It was hard to lock outside someone that holds the key. That was the way she felt when Damon was around, like he could lower her defenses with a snap of his fingers, like he could peek at her soul with barely a glance, like he could read her thoughts before she could even think them, and it was distressing, slightly painful, a bit exhilarating and completely crazy.
"I am…in many areas," he adds, voice solemn and husky. Alaric senses the danger and grabs him by the forearm. Bonnie rolls her eyes at that, annoyed at him for being the way he is, and grateful to Alaric, because against her best intentions she's already falling back easily and involuntarily into their usual routine.
"We better go before you put your foot in your mouth," Alaric shakes his head, almost apologetically, as he looks down towards Bonnie. "I'll do my best."
#
Caroline checks out another entry on her list, mentally congratulating herself on a job well done. She's replaced the photographer, outlined the list of songs for the ceremony and the reception, Elena's dress and her own have been delivered, and tomorrow she's going to inspect the carriage that will bring the bride to her destination.
She smiles at the list of her accomplishments written down on her precious agenda, because this wedding is going to be spectacular, maybe even more beautiful than her own – and she doesn't feel that bad at the thought, because she got married to Stefan, after all, and no other woman can outdo that, so it seems like fair compensation to let her friend at least have the best in every other department.
Caroline still feels excited every time she looks down at her wedding band, whenever she remembers Stefan's adoring gaze that day. Despite it all, she still feels like the luckiest woman on earth.
She shakes her head to focus again on the wedding arrangements.
Everything is proceeding according to her schedule, and things are even promising to speed up a little now that Bonnie is angry with Damon and has decided he can do the rest with Alaric while she takes care of other details. She has offered to talk to the officiant and go pick up the marriage license, so Caroline can even squeeze in a little time to pack her bag for the bridal spa day she's scheduled: one long, amazing day that includes a welcome with Prosecco and strawberries, a thirty-minute radiant glow facial, full body salt and oil scrub, soothing back, neck and shoulder massage, manicure, pedicure, and afternoon tea. God, it was going to be so good.
So, really, everything is going smoothly.
Yes, she would have preferred if Bonnie could make it, but she's scheduled the bachelor party for Damon, so she needs to take care of that even if she would prefer otherwise, and Caroline can laugh at those stupid doubts she'd entertained just a couple of days prior, because there's nothing lovey-dovey or even remotely romantic about those two.
Yes, Damon doesn't look particularly invested in the practical aspect of his own wedding, but he's a man, a tasteless one in her opinion, so it's all for the best if he stays on the sidelines of the whole thing. And yes, making him pick a song for the first dance has been like yanking a tooth out of his mouth, but they had done it. And he's distracted her a lot by poking her anxiety about Bonnie leaving again, for good this time, but that's because for how long-lived he's been up to now he despises change, and she can understand that.
And maybe there are some cold feet involved in this. No matter how madly he loves Elena, marriage is a big deal, and he has a right to be a little scared. It doesn't really mean anything.
Even if his eyes soften sometimes when he looks at Bonnie, even if he'll always take everything he can get – the words come straight out of his wedding vows but that really doesn't mean a thing, because that's just Damon admitting he's behaving like Damon – even if the only thing he's been adamant the whole time has been keeping Bonnie by his side, because – again – it's cold feet, and Bonnie is his safety net and truly the best friend he's ever had.
Caroline's eyes lift to where she's pinned the crumpled page with his wedding vows on the vision board of the wedding that she keeps on a wood tripod in her spacious bedroom. It's that damn, insignificant thing that's poking at her brain. He's threw it away because it didn't properly explain his feelings, because his love for Elena is deeper than that, and she shouldn't have picked it up, because Damon is probably going to come up with something so incredibly them that every other word will pale in comparison.
Caroline stands in a rush from her chair and detaches it from the board — before it can cause her any more stress — to throw it with indignation in the bin under her makeup table, feeling much better. Much, much better.
She has this wild imagination that sometimes can be such an hindrance, but it's ridiculous of her to even consider other possibilities. Bonnie has been away for months and can hardly wait to jump on a flight and disappear again. Her touches don't linger, her eyes don't search for him, and if he ever got…confused about his own feelings for Elena, Bonnie would never let him sway. Bonnie does not, and would never, reciprocate feelings that are not of pure friendship. She's being his best man, organizing his bachelor party, doing everything in her power to make this wedding a success. She can be self-sacrificing all right, but this would be masochism on a whole new level.
Just yesterday, when she entered the Salvatore's kitchen, half terrified of what she was going to find, she happened upon two buddies with a tiff — one impossibly bothered, the other ready to stick out his tongue — not really a pivotal, poignant moment in a love story, but more like two annoying kids she could have enrolled in her school for supernatural children.
No, she's imagined things because she was on a romance high, because after years of impending catastrophes her brain will always look for the other shoe to drop. In fact, she should put it to more useful tasks, she decides, looking at the empty space on her vision board where the crumpled vows used to be.
#
She has managed to do everything she had on her list in a mostly respectable amount of time. She placed the order for the cake, has talked with the officiant of the ceremony, who was interested in knowing details about the bride and groom to make it all feel more personal, and she bought a beautiful dress in satin, with spaghetti straps that crisscrossed on the back, and a side slit. It is so thin and luminous that it gives the impression of melted gold over her mocha skin.
She sent the picture to Caroline and she fully approved, sending her an enthusiastic vocal message where she could also hear Elena's voice in the background complimenting her. Bonnie had thought first about sending the picture to Damon, because after all it is his wedding and she is his best man, and she wanted his opinion, but it seemed inappropriate. Bonnie was the best man, not the bride. Bonnie was not supposed to matter that much to require his opinion, even if deep down some stupid part of her would have liked to know that he thought her beautiful in that dress.
She put the phone away, tucked the idea under the mental list of to-do things, and paid for the dress. Damon would see it on the day of his wedding, and he wouldn't care about it one bit because he would be about to marry the love of his life.
After quieting her stomach with a sandwich at almost four in the afternoon, she got to her appointment with The Boobie Trap director to request for the right music and a few numbers with girls dressed like navy officials.
The man, Anthony Carlson – who has recently taken over the family business from his retired father – is not at all surprised to see a woman organizing a bachelor party with a strip show. Actually, he explains at some point while one of the waitresses goes to fetch Bonnie a glass of Coke with ice, that more than a few times, he has organized the show together with the bride, that sometimes the bride is quite open-minded, other times she just tries to control everything in hope to reduce the risk of the groom fooling around the night before the wedding.
Bonnie sips on her Coke before explaining, "It's just a small thing. We don't need to rent the whole place or anything. He doesn't have any family left." She tries not to let sadness creep in as her mind recalls Stefan's warm presence. "It will be just him, a couple of friends, the bride's brother, and me, the best man." It sounds silly to define herself as a man, especially in a place like this, and the irony is probably not lost on Anthony since he smiles at that.
"And you said navy uniforms," he repeats, scribbling down in his agenda.
A cleaning team is disinfecting the place, putting particular care into the poles and chairs.
"He said he wanted a bachelor party in the line with the rescue scene in The Wolf of Wall Street," Bonnie explains with a shrug.
"Oh, yes," he nods, writing down some more, "I liked that part, too. And I suppose we should use the same music."
"That would be great." She hadn't thought it would be this easy, but everyone around her is extremely professional. And even though this is not a place she is going to visit again anytime soon, after Damon's party, she doesn't feel so squeamish as she had supposed.
"What's his taste in women?" he asks casually, toying with the pen between his fingers.
"What?" the question takes her by surprise.
"Blonde, brunette, dark skinned…" he explains. "Does he have a specific type?"
Brunette, doe eyes, bitch, she thinks, remembering the poisonous aura of Katherine Pierce, and a few honorable mentions. "Not really," she says instead, offering a smile.
"What about two shows, ten minutes each?" he suggests. "Five girls for each show so that they can offer proper attention to all your guests. We got that area that would work for you guys," he says, pointing his finger towards a semi-circular sofa. "And unlimited alcohol, maybe?"
"He'd approve of that, but I'm supposed to make sure he shows up at his wedding and doesn't throw up on the bride." In normal circumstances Damon would have no trouble with his alcohol intake, but since he's gotten human he's building his resistance from scratch and she won't risk it.
"You can signal yourself to the bartender or one of the waitresses when you think they should slow the alcohol down," Anthony suggests. "After the first few, and once the girls are topless no one notices that the alcohol gets watered down." He offers a guilty smile. "On some nights the affluence was bigger than we expected, so we had to improvise."
"I will keep your secret," she says, dragging a cross over her heart with her finger the way Damon did that morning.
"Thanks, that's very kind of you. And I'll throw in some free snacks so that your guests have something in their stomach other than the booze."
"Appreciated."
"Do you want a private show for the groom?" From the suggestive look he throws her way when he mentions it, she realizes he has put it mildly.
She blinks. "You mean…"
"We don't offer the full experience," he explains, looking uncomfortable, "if you get what I mean. It's illegal and we don't encourage girls to work that way, but sometimes guys can get handsy, and if we offer a private moment we can set some rules and at least I can make sure the girls are compensated for their disturb and won't accept work outside the club."
Is she supposed to provide him with a prostitute? Does Damon expect that? Well, if he does he better do it on his own. She's not pitching in for him to get laid. He's had his fair share of sex throughout the centuries, so is it important to do it now that he's getting married? Is this his idea of faithfulness and love? This is not about her, she knows, and he's always flaunted his extremely active sexual life, but he's incredibly territorial too, and stupidly jealous, and devoted to a fault, and she wants something better from him, even if she knows that this is not about her, that she has no right to expect him to conform to this ideal in her mind, and that Elena should be the one to worry about him touching other women. But still.
"No full experience, or any other of experience," she decides, adamant.
"Just looking, not touching," Anthony nods, agreeing amiably.
Bonnie nods in return, trying to look relaxed and unbothered by the party she will have to attend.
Damon better not enjoy the visual too much, either.
#
Alaric turns the key to the car's ignition and rests his back against the seat, taking a deep breath.
"This is the last one," he says, turning to look his friend dead in the eye.
"Don't look so serious," Damon says with a shrug. "If things go wrong I can show up naked. That would reinforce Elena's decision to marry me," he jokes, but Alaric's expression doesn't falter.
They hadn't scheduled an appointment for this particular boutique, but they had exhausted every other option and they were starting to get desperate, or at least Alaric was. Damon was sure he was going to look great in anything he wore so he wasn't exactly sweating it, to his friend's dismay.
The boutique was two levels and the male section was in the basement. Not the greatest start, admittedly, but one can never know where they might find a gem. The groom had found the love of his life while torturing his little brother for past sins, after all.
There were no sale assistants available but batting lashes was a winning approach for Damon, and Alaric wasn't going to complain if it got him out of trouble with Caroline, so they waited for half an hour before they could be squeezed in.
"Please, try to be flexible—"
"I am. Ask any woman," Damon replies without missing a beat.
"That's not what I meant." Alaric sighed, following his friend along the hall.
"Then be specific next time." Spending time with Alaric was not bad at all, usually. And the little chase for the perfect suit had started all right, but at the third hour of all-male companionship, the testosterone fest was starting to get boring. And he misses Bonnie. It's not that he's completely dependent on her or anything. It's just that he got used to having her around at all hours, so it feels a bit like withdrawal syndrome. But that's good, because this way he can put things back into perspective.
The fact is that despite the occasional confusion, and the inopportune speeding up of his heart, and the way he seems to hunt for her scent on his clothes, it's not that he is sweet on Bonnie. In fact, it's just that after missing her presence for months, having her all for himself for days has backfired and made him a bit of an addict. And his feelings have started to appear deeper and bigger than they actually are.
He's been devoting himself to Elena since before he met her. Everything made sense because of her, the years yearning for Katherine, the constant fighting for hope, Stefan's sacrifice, and he couldn't remove her from his life and hope to be the same.
"You look amazing," a woman chirps on Damon's side as he walks through blue couches where proud mothers are watching their daughters stand in white dresses to reach the stairs that will lead them to the male section. "Oh my God, I'm going to cry," someone else whines at his back.
Damon hardly spares a look to the girls, but his eye catches something and he sees her as she turns and twirls looking down at her gown. His heart stops for a moment. And this is it, the moment he dies, looking at Bonnie's radiant smile as she stands there in a lace bohemian wedding dress with a full and frothy skirt and asks, "Do you like it?"
Why then, if she is so perfect
Do I still wish that it was you?
It happens in a moment. He sees her, his soul says 'I do', Alaric crashes against his back too distracted to notice that his friend has stopped walking, and in the next blink she's gone, leaving some other girl there that cannot do any justice to that dress and making him feel slightly nauseous by the absence of the girl he has just wished for, and from the violent revelation of it all. It doesn't really come as a surprise, for he knew, but, before, he had taken a peek at the truth, walked on its edge, courting danger and happiness the same way someone on a strict diet would do when taking one bite of chocolate, as reward for good behavior. But this is different, this is something he can't rewrite, reinvent, un-see or un-feel.
"Sorry," Alaric offers after he has almost thrown him to the ground. "Are you okay?" He places a hand on his shoulder.
Damon blinks and people around him keep on talking. The girl in the lace and tulle dress is smiling to her mother as the woman comments on the dress with as much enthusiasm as she can muster but not entirely keen on the illusion neckline and the detachable Chantilly lace and French tulle long sleeves. Of course she doesn't like it, Damon thinks instinctively, that dress is clearly not for her.
But if he steps on and tells her to take off Bonnie's dress, someone will think him crazy. He thinks himself crazy already.
He realizes then that Alaric is still waiting for a reply, so he nods. "Yeah, sorry. I thought I saw Elena," he lies, feeling a bit like his tongue is swelling in his mouth. But what else can he tell him? Five minutes ago, he knew for a fact that his feelings for Bonnie were just friendship with a touch of addiction for flavor, and now he doesn't know anymore.
Alaric smiles his first smile in the last hour, looking touched by his admission, probably thinking he wants so much to marry her that he's hallucinating her.
"No wonder you looked like you were about to pass out." He comments, giving him a supportive pat on the shoulder. Damon doesn't know which part in all of this makes him feel worse.
"But luckily for you, it's not her," Alaric continues, looking sideways at the girl now chatting with the sales assistant to discuss details she wishes were different. "You know it's bad luck to see the bride in her wedding dress before the ceremony."
Damon wants to say that he doubts dreaming of another woman in a wedding dress is a better option, but he keeps his mouth shut.
#
Note: It's been awhile, isn't it? I am not around much but I hope you will enjoy the update. The song mentioned in this chapter is "Glimpse of us" by Joji. I'll be waiting to read your reviews and hear what you think of the story. If you can and want, you can buy me a ko-fi to support me, you'll find the link to my ko-fi account on my profile and over my tumblr, where you're free to contact me for prompts or even just to chat. See you (hopefully) soon.