Title: red light
Rating: M
Genre: All-Human AU
Pairing(s): Bonnie/Damon, Elena/Damon, Bonnie/Jeremy, mentions of Katherine/Emily, Jenna/Alaric, Tyler/Vicki, Caroline/Stefan, etc.
Summary: Bonnie Bennett becomes the object of Damon Salvatore's fixation when he discovers that she's a dancer at a strip club. Neither Bonnie's best friend Elena, who Damon is dating, or Elena's brother Jeremy who Bonnie is dating, are aware of Bonnie's true occupation. Damon agrees to keep Bonnie's secret in exchange for regular private dances that very quickly get out of hand. (All Human AU)
Warnings: Slightly Dubious Consent (Due to Blackmail), Explicit Sexual Content, Language, Angst, Cheating, etc.
part two || helen of troy
"To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves."
― Federico García Lorca
Damon Salvatore had always been amused by those people that thought that love was supposed to be like fairy tales and myths and legends without acknowledging how fucked up most of those stories were. If that was the way love was supposed to be then it would be messy. Hellish. Full of wicked witches. Adultery. Murder. Secrets. Outside interference. Nothing was smooth, before or after the happily ever after. The only thing of legend Damon likened love to, was the Trojan horse. It looked like a gift from the outside but once you took a deeper look there was only destruction and defeat underneath.
Love had been, the source of Damon's demise many times over. His love for Elena had nearly destroyed his relationship with his brother. His love for his father had destroyed the man Damon truly was in the quest to become the man his father wanted it to be. And now, now his love for Bonnie Bennett was threatening to dismantle his entire world because he couldn't stay the hell away from her.
Still, even if he couldn't stay away, he kept boundaries up. Walls up. That was something. The Trojan horse couldn't do any harm really, it was what was inside that could kill. As long as he didn't look deeper at what he was doing he could pretend that he was still in a fairy tale. Still Elena's prince charming. Still the valiant knight defending his father's kingdom. Still, anything other than the rake that had fallen so deep into the pit of temptation that he could no longer see straight. That he could no longer see anything but Bonnie.
It wasn't cheating if he didn't touch her. He could almost justify it, so long as he kept his hands to himself. They shared secrets now, but they weren't lovers. Far from it. For Bonnie, it never went beyond a dance no matter how many whispered words of desire she managed to pry from his lips during. They could still barely stomach each other's presence on a good day when they were anywhere outside of the four walls of the red lit private lounge. But that too, was a façade. A cover. To hide everything brewing underneath the surface.
Perhaps, their arrangement could very easily be misconstrued, but in all actuality, Bonnie was just doing her job. She was providing a service and he was her customer. He was a patron, nothing more, nothing less. He was blackmailing her, maybe. But he was also paying her after all. So, even that sin could be overlooked. Most of the time, it was easy to excuse his behavior to himself. To lie to himself and Elena.
The problem was that it had gotten to the point that he couldn't fuck Elena without going to the club first. Couldn't get hard without the memory of Bonnie's ass grinding into his lap. Couldn't stomach touching Elena at all anymore without the remnants of Bonnie's scent on his skin. It was something no fairy tale cover could compensate for. In short, Damon was fucked.
He'd lied about not coming back to the club. Of course, he had. He'd come back nearly every night after the first night. Stopped going on Thursdays altogether, because those were Bonnie's off days and he wanted it to be known to the other girls, who he was now there for. And that was a problem too. He had given Bonnie claim over him. He wasn't just a regular at the club anymore, he was Bonnie's regular. And he had claim over her as well, as the only one she'd ever given a private dance, even if he had to use extortion to get it.
Worst still were the overly honest conversations that they had every time Bonnie danced for him. The drunken truths that slipped from his tongue every time that Bonnie sat down across from him with her legs spread and that fucking faux innocent expression on her face. Somehow the visits became a sort of therapy session, catharsis, and sexual fantasy come to life all into one.
The drinking was as much to work towards an excuse for his behavior as it was to tamper down the fear that he had of saying those things when he was sober. To Bonnie. To Elena. To anyone who would fucking listen. Drunken ramblings could be dismissed but sober thoughts always contained some grain of transparency.
The second night he had shown up, Bonnie hadn't looked at all surprised to see him. She'd sighed and given him what he wanted like the first night. The third night was the same. And the fourth night. And the fifth. On the sixth night Bonnie was different. A little drunk. It was Vicki's birthday and the girls had been doing some pregaming and celebrating before their shift. Her face had been more open than he'd ever seen it when she saw him. She'd stumbled into him then. Wrapped her arms around his neck. Pressed her body into his. Whispered, "I knew you would come," close to his ear. Grabbed a bottle of bourbon from the bar and opened it for him.
She'd been dressed as Helen of Troy. All in white and gold. Blond wig. Her eyes shining as she took his hand and led him to another red lit room. The light had tinted her dress. She'd taken off her wig and suddenly she'd seemed more temptress than lady of myth. She'd pushed him down on the leather cushioned bench and taken off her dress with an aching slowness that had almost broken him. She'd slid into his lap topless in just her thong as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her back facing him, leaning back into his chest and settling her ass in his lap. Grinding in slow circles as she ran her hands over her perfect breasts.
"I don't want to hide how badly I want you," he'd told her, "I want to tell the world."
"Even Elena?" She'd laughed.
"Fuck Elena," he'd said, breathing in her scent and taking a swig of bourbon.
She'd gotten up then. Turned to face him. Climbed into his lap again, this time straddling him her legs on either side. She began to grind against him anew. The slow torture of it making him curse. "You don't need to tell the world you want me," she said, "At least not for now. Just tell me."
So, he did. He'd whispered in her ear all the filthy things he wanted to do to her. She'd moved her hips faster. Grinding against him, touching her bare breasts and pinching her nipples. Not bothering to try and hide the dampness between her legs or the soft moans that left her lips. Then finally she'd cried out and collapsed against him. All that time Damon managed to keep his hands to himself. Balled into fists at his sides. Nails digging into his palms. He hadn't known he could show so much self-restraint. Fuck Stefan, if anyone asked Damon, he was the real fucking saint.
He had kept coming back after that. They talked. Conversations running deeper than they should have been running at a strip club. Sometimes she drank. Sometimes she didn't. Damon always drank. Always murmured far too honest things under the low red light. After that sixth time, Bonnie always climbed into his lap and got herself off. Torturing Damon and testing his resolve to keep his hands to himself. It was a dangerous game they played. It was the one thing they never spoke about.
As messy as it was that the visits to the strip club had become a part of his routine, it made things more surreal that Bonnie was becoming more comfortable each time he showed up. Where at first, she rolled her eyes at the sight of him, now she smiled. Where at first, she stayed in character, now more of herself slipped out during their interactions. Where at first, she had kept her distance when she danced, now she climbed into his lap. Straddled him. Grinding and teasing and letting him feel her wetness through his clothes as she took off her bra. Smirking as he sat there unable to touch, but dying to, his fist clenched at his sides.
He wasn't sure anymore if she was taunting him for her own amusement or if she was daring him to act on whatever the hell was happening between them.
Even when he wasn't with her, Bonnie was with him. In his thoughts throughout the day. His was next to useless at work. Was unable to think of anything else he wanted to do with his free time off the clock but make an appearance at the club. Every other patron looked at him knowingly when he walked in. Every other dancer stopped paying him the time of day, because they knew any money in his pocket would wind up in Bonnie's hands. Or at her feet. Or folded into the lining of her thong. Even the new girls knew their place. Never trying their hand. Heeding Bonnie's warning gaze as she walked up to Damon and took his hand as soon as he walked through the door. Threading their fingers together and inviting him to sin again.
Then there was Elena. He had grown distant with her outside of the bedroom. Though, that wasn't really a new development. They had never really talked. Fucking had always been the way they communicated. He and Bonnie had more honest conversations in the red lit room than he and Elena had ever had. He and Bonnie had been more candid during heated arguments and on the few times they had managed to bypass their mutual loathing even before Damon had found out that Bonnie was an exotic dancer. But with Elena, sex had always been where they had gone to in order to stay connected.
However, now even their sex was different. Because now when they fucked, Damon's eyes were always on the picture that Elena kept of her and Bonnie in her room with the other photos of family and friends cluttered about her small apartment.
Now his mind was always on Bonnie. Now he had to grit his teeth to keep Bonnie's name for spilling from his lips. Now he kept his hands clenched in the bed sheets, never touching her as he took her. The feel of her skin would end the illusion. The curves of her body would feel all wrong. If he touched her, he'd know he was with the wrong woman. Any time his hands so much as brushed against Elena's skin he heard Bonnie's voice laughing in his mind, "No touching the dancers."
If Elena smelled Bonnie's scent or noticed that Damon's eyes never connected with hers when he was inside of her, she never said anything. Maybe she didn't even fucking notice. Maybe her mind wasn't on him either. Maybe he wasn't the only one just going through the motions.
If anything, the disconnect only served to make Elena try to work overtime to make their relationship look good in public. Because she had always been more concerned with their image than what was behind the façade. She started to heap on the affection in front of others. Praise Damon unnecessarily to anyone who would listen. Smile that pasted on smile that he hated in his direction when he walked into the room.
Damon had stopped trying to reciprocate. Not even his vindication at getting the girl was motive enough to make him revel at finally being on the receiving end of Elena's attention. Because Elena wasn't the girl he wanted. Instead, he began to shrink into himself. Everyone noticed, but as long as Elena was able to pretend, no one pressed the issue. They figured it was his problem and Elena would deal with it. Make excuses for him the way she always did. But it was bigger than that now. It wasn't just about Elena. It was everything that was wrong with his life. Everything that he hated about it. Everything that he wanted but couldn't have. Everything that Bonnie made sure that he could no longer ignore.
It was another Friday when the dam finally broke in more ways than one. Between the pressure from his father at work and the pressure from Elena outside of it he had been unraveling for weeks. Months maybe. Had been in denial for longer. The conversations with Bonnie had made it harder to deal with. Had made everything that much closer to the surface.
However, he was for the most part able to hold it together. Play the part in public, though not with any enthusiasm. Even as he had been breaking down in private. Shutting down. Drinking. Spending nights at the Wolf's Den, which, up until his sighting of Bonnie hadn't necessarily been a good thing. But, since he had gone from paying girls like Andie to say what he wanted to hear, to blackmailing Bonnie to dance for him and inadvertently provoking her into saying what he needed to hear instead, something had been unearthed in him. Something unsettling. Something that had always been there. Something that made him even more restless that he was before.
It was beyond the desire he felt for Bonnie, though that was part of it. Beyond the feelings for her that he'd always tried to deny, that may or may not have been as unrequited as he always thought. It was a desire for freedom. The need for release from the stronghold of the duty to his father. From Elena's desire to control his image, to morph him into something else, without caring about if he was happy or whether they were happy together. The urge growing and growing each night he spent in Bonnie's company, to the point where he could no longer go through the motions. And that was when Elena decided to plan a fucking family outing.
To be fair, by then, because they hadn't really been communicating beyond the bedroom, it wasn't as if they could have discussed it beforehand. Damon had taken to just going along with whatever Elena planned in the moment as long as his nights were free, and he was able to sneak off to the club. By the time Damon had a chance to comment, the plan was already in motion.
"Jeremy has a piece being shown at the opening of Klaus's gallery. We're all going to see it and then we're going out to dinner. It's going to be a small dinner," Elena said, "Just you and me, your father, Stefan and...," a sigh, "Caroline, Jenna and Alaric, and Bonnie and Jeremy. Just family."
Damon had to question Elena's definition of small. It was the same key players, but he had no desire to watch his father dote on Stefan all night, any more than he had any desire to watch Bonnie and Jeremy play the role of loving couple while he did the same. Knowing what he knew. Feeling how he felt. Inhabiting that role in front of Bonnie just felt wrong. Seeing her with Baby Gilbert felt worse. "Why are we doing this again?" Damon asked, even as he straightened his tie. Though, he hadn't even bothered to change out of the suit he had worn to work.
"This is the first time Jeremy has had a piece of art on display at a professional gallery and Stefan just got your father a huge client," Elena said, "I thought it'd be nice to celebrate them."
So, in other words it was about Stefan. Jeremy was the cover, but it was really a subterfuge to get Stefan's attention. To celebrate him. To show him that she still cared in a way that it would be harder to call her out on. She likely had a plan to one up Stefan and Caroline as well. To prove to everyone that she and Damon were the better couple. Because she had to make it at least look like she was with the better brother, even if it that wasn't the case.
Damon could never manage to beat out Stefan at the job. His father worked in financial services. It was a numbers game. Stefan had a knack for it and was charming. Clients trusted him easily. Damon on the other hand, hated the job. Had absolutely no passion for it. Lately, even the competition with his brother and earning his father's respect wasn't enough to get Damon to try when it came to his position. His performance at work was barely above average. So, Stefan once again doing what he couldn't or wouldn't do, wasn't something Damon wanted to have a meal over or make a toast to.
But Damon, was also tired of fighting, which was at times worse than the silence and so he changed the subject. "Doesn't Bonnie have to work tonight?"
Elena raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you have Bonnie's work schedule memorized?"
Damon rolled his eyes. "It was a question Elena," he said, "Not an invitation to fight." He wasn't sure where the question had come from. Or maybe he was. She had been playing at oblivious for weeks. And though, she didn't know Bonnie's true profession, she knew that Damon's attention wasn't on her. That her thrall over him was slipping. It made sense that she would pick up on where his interest was instead.
Elena sighed. "She's coming to support Jeremy," she said, "She's leaving early for her shift, but, yes, she'll be there."
Damon unknotted his tie and took off his suit jacket. Tried not think too much about what he was doing or Elena's sudden attitude.
"What are you doing?" Elena frowned.
"Showering and changing," Damon said, walking towards the bathroom, "I smell like the office. All of our clients either smell like overpriced perfume or cigarette smoke." Confirming Bonnie's presence had the effect of making him give a shit about his appearance at the very least, even if he didn't want to be a part of any of the plans and celebrations.
"You were fine wearing the same suit you had on all day a few seconds ago," Elena pointed out.
Damon shrugged as he unbuttoned his shirt. "I'm not now."
Elena glared. Placed her hands on her hips. "We're going to be late."
Damon thought that she'd be more pleased that he was putting in effort, considering she liked them looking good. But he suspected that she knew she wasn't the one he was putting in effort for. "Then we'll be late," Damon snapped, "And maybe next time you'll give me more than a ten-minute notice to get ready."
Damon ignored whatever reply she gave and showered quickly. Kept the water cold but still couldn't stop himself from taking himself in hand to thoughts of Bonnie. When he got dressed, he wore an all-black suit, skipped the tie all together. He wasn't surprised that Elena scowled at his choice of wardrobe. She'd put on a blue dress to match the suit and tie he'd been wearing before he'd changed. It was all part of the image. They needed to be coordinated. Project themselves as a unit, she always said. Now they were mismatched, already running late, and there wouldn't be time for Elena to change.
"Something wrong?" Damon asked, as if he didn't know.
"Let's just go," Elena sighed.
They took Damon's car and they had barely pulled out of the driveway before Elena spoke. "I made a phone call this morning," she said, "To the Whitmore's. My father's name still holds some weight with their family. They're looking for investment advice, wanting to open a second campus for the college as well. They're a well-off family with some notoriety. Arguably bigger than the clients that Stefan just brought. I told Aaron that you would call."
Damon's hands clenched around the steering wheel. "Anything else I should know about my life and career?" He asked, "Any other decisions you decided to make for me?"
"For us, Damon," Elena corrected. "Don't make me out to be the bad guy because I am being proactive about our future and you're letting your brother upstage you at every turn."
Damon shook his head. "That's what this is really about," he said, "Stefan. If I thought you really had my best interest in mind, I wouldn't hesitate to be grateful. But this is about proving a point to Stefan that you made the right choice when you chose me. If you were going to be so hellbent on turning me into him, I don't see why you bothered leaving him to begin with."
"I am not the only one who is in the relationship halfway," Elena said as she crossed her arms.
"So, you admit it," Damon yelled, and then, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means, I don't know where you see this going," Elena frowned, "It's not like we talk at all. You've been distant lately and we hardly see each other. At least I'm trying. Maybe if we made a commitment. Reaffirm it, I mean-"
"So, you want me to make a commitment to you after you just admitted that you're not all the way in and you don't think I'm all the way in. What good would that do exactly?" He wasn't all the way in but that was hardly the point. She'd been out longer than he had. Even this conversation wasn't about what she was trying to make it seem like it was about.
"I don't mean to make you feel like I'm trying to turn you into, Stefan," Elena tried, "I just want you to be successful for you and to make your father proud so you can have a better relationship with him. As for Stefan, he and I are over. Have been over for a while now. And if Caroline's talk of a June wedding is anything to go by, then he's moved on too-"
"Ah," Damon laughed, shaking his head, "And there it is. Caroline's planning a wedding and now you want to talk commitment. Stefan's signing on big clients and now you're digging up a bigger one. My father couldn't be prouder of my little brother and now you're so concerned about my relationship with him."
"You're twisting my words," Elena pouted. She glared out the window. Making a show of being upset, but Damon knew she just couldn't meet his eyes. Couldn't deny his accusations.
"No," Damon shook his head, "I'm picking up on a pattern. I'm admitting what I've been seeing for a long time now. Our relationship isn't about us. It was for me, in beginning. Or maybe not. I don't know anymore but it isn't for you, hasn't been for a while. Hasn't been for me for a while either. Maybe it never was."
She was Stefan's before she was his. He'd wanted to take something from Stefan. Wanted to hurt him. Wanted to be the one chosen. He called it love to justify it. But he couldn't even be honest with Elena. Couldn't be himself. He couldn't call that love. Even if he had tricked himself into believing it was before, he knew he didn't love her now. Knew he didn't want her.
"What are you saying?" Elena asked.
Damon refused to respond. He knew what she needed. If he refused to go along with whatever she said, then she needed him to be the villain and dump her. She needed it to be him that ended things so that she could play the victim. In a way she was, because he wasn't all in with her. Especially, not now. But so was he. They were victims of each other, of themselves, of the toxic cycle they created. Using each other and lying and manipulating and hiding.
He was exhausted with it all. Tired of caring how he looked at the end of it. If she wanted him to be the villain, then maybe he should just be it. Fuck it. If it meant this would be over. That he could be done. He could be free to fuck up. To be unapologetic. To feel what he felt for Bonnie even if he wasn't really what Bonnie wanted. Even if he had to keep blackmailing her to get what he wanted. It was messed up, but it was honest, it was a part of who he was. He didn't have to play the saint. He didn't have to push down every flaw he had and go through the motions as if he were more machine than man. "Why are we still doing this?" Damon asked, not expecting an answer. Why am I still doing this? He thought.
They were silent the rest of the car ride to Klaus's art gallery. When they got there, Elena finally turned to him and said, "Can we table all of this for now."
"Don't worry," Damon huffed, "I won't make you look bad." That was all she really cared about he knew, and she didn't even bother to contradict him as he parked the car.
They walked up to the gallery arm in arm and Elena pasted a smile on her face. The smile he hated. The one that seemed frozen and forced even with how practiced it was. The one that made everyone look at her with pity as if he was the only problem with their relationship. As if she hadn't chosen him before regretting it, before realizing that Stefan wouldn't always be waiting in the wings. If Stefan could move on, why couldn't he. Wouldn't it only be right if Elena lost them both? And to her two best friends no less. There'd be some vindication in that, and Damon could admit that he was enough of an asshole to find the thought gratifying.
As they approached, Stefan and Caroline were standing outside of the gallery, with Jeremy. There was no Bonnie in sight. Damon frowned.
Stefan greeted them as they approach with a nod in their direction, but Damon noted his brother looked irritated. For once the ire wasn't directed at Damon but at Jeremy, which was surprising as Jeremy and Stefan had always gotten along. Stefan had his hand on the small of Caroline's back, his green tie matching her green dress.
"Of course, Caroline made sure they coordinated," Elena said under her breath as they grew closer, as if she hadn't tried the same thing.
Of course, Elena had noticed that and not the obviously tense situation or Bonnie's absence, Damon thought but didn't comment on it out loud.
Damon could care less about his brother's couple accessorizing. He was more focused on Caroline lighting into Jeremy and Bonnie being missing in action. "What the hell is wrong with you?" The blonde was yelling, "You were never good enough for her in the first place. You've been a shit boyfriend from the beginning and now you've basically declared your undying love for a dead woman to the whole town right in front of Bonnie. You embarrassed her for everyone to see."
Damon scowled as they stopped in front of the group, and he heard Jeremy's reply. "I painted it way before Bonnie and I got together," the younger Gilbert was saying, "I didn't think it was a big deal. It was the piece Klaus chose out of the ones I showed him. I didn't want to pass the opportunity up so-"
"So, you thought about yourself and not about Bonnie," Caroline cut in, "Why am I not surprised? You're always comparing her to Anna, and now this. If you could just once get your head out of your own ass and put yourself in her shoes."
"Look," Jeremy said, "If I talk about Anna, it's because I'm still grieving. If Bonnie had a problem with it, she would have said something by now."
Caroline opened her mouth likely to continue to verbally eviscerate Jeremy, but Damon cut her off. "What the hell is going on here?" He demanded.
Jeremy frowned in his direction, but it was Caroline who answered. "This jackass," she said, gesturing towards Jeremy, "Invited us all here to see a portrait he painted of Anna."
"I told you," Jeremy sighed, as if he was the one that was being misunderstood in the situation, "It was a long time ago. I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity and Klaus didn't want any of the others I did. Maybe, I should have warned Bonnie-"
Damon scowled as he eyed the younger Gilbert sibling. "Warned her about which part?" Damon spat, "You gearing up to spit on your relationship in front of the entire town or the fact that you care more about honoring your long dead ex-girlfriend's memory than being considerate of your current girlfriend's feelings?"
"You want to talk about being considerate of someone else's feelings?" Jeremy laughed, as he eyed Damon, "You really want to go there?"
Damon stepped closer to ready to pound the little twerps face in, but Elena stepped in between them and halted his movements. "That's enough."
"You can't defend Jeremy this time, Elena," Caroline said, before turning back to Jeremy, "I hate to say this, but Damon is right. This is bullshit. You've never even once drawn or painted Bonnie but you were all too willing to offer up Anna's portrait. You're putting it on Bonnie for never complaining about you bringing Anna up as if she'd really give you shit about mourning someone if that's what this even is."
Elena opened her mouth to likely defend Jeremy anyway and Damon shook his head and turned his attention to Caroline and Stefan. "Where's Bonnie?" Damon asked.
"Still inside," Stefan answered. Damon moved towards the gallery, but Stefan caught his arm. "You're maybe not to the best person to try and comfort her right now. You two don't exactly get along."
Damon rolled his eyes. For once Stefan was the one that was wrong in the situation. Damon and Bonnie had been being so honest with each other as of late, Damon was the only one who knew the whole truth about the state of her Jeremy's relationship. He was in fact probably the best person to check on Bonnie in that moment. "Well," he said, "I don't see either of her best friends volunteering for the job so right now I'm all she's got."
Damon didn't wait for a reply as he walked into the gallery. He didn't look back or care if he was being followed. It didn't take long for him to find Bonnie. Bonnie was standing in front of a large portrait of Anna Zhu, the offensive piece in question. The ex-girlfriend who had manipulated Jeremy in life who had been immortalized by Jeremy in death.
Bonnie was wearing a black lace dress and a pair of black pumps. Damon grinned to himself because of course he and Bonnie were somehow on the same page aesthetically, no orchestration or coordination necessary.
"If he was going to make an ass of himself, he could have at least done it with better brush skills," Damon said as he sidled up next to Bonnie.
Bonnie glanced at him out of the corner of eyes, her lips twitching. "You don't like it?" She asked.
Damon frowned. "No."
"I do," Bonnie said, and Damon's frown deepened, "It's not particularly good but it is immensely illuminating." Bonnie sat down on the bench in front of the painting and Damon immediately moved to sit beside her. "Even if he doesn't still love her, he wants me to think he does. Wants the town to think he does. Wants to breed insecurity. Make everyone look at me with pity. Make it look like he's the one that settled."
"Like anyone with a fucking brain would buy that," Damon said.
Bonnie laughed. "We're in a small Southern town, Damon," she said, "Who the fuck in Mystic Falls actually uses their brains?"
"Point taken." Damon grinned.
"It's not entirely unexpected," Bonnie said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "I haven't been paying him much attention lately. I figured something was coming."
Damon couldn't help but be a bit smug at her words. "Been a little distracted, have you?"
Bonnie shot him a sideways glance. "A little."
Damon watched as she opened the black clutch in her hands and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "You, okay?"
Bonnie nodded. "Yeah."
Damon raised a brow. "You don't have to lie to me if you're not."
"I know that," Bonnie smiled, "Believe me. You and I have secrets, but not from each other. Not anymore."
Damon nodded in agreement. "Do you know why Klaus let him pull this shit?" Damon asked, "I thought he was a regular of yours. I don't like the guy, but I figured he'd consider your feelings enough to not orchestrate it so that Gilbert would hurt you deliberately. Especially, if Klaus claims that you're his muse."
Damon had seen Klaus at the Wolf's Den more than once. Always eyeing Bonnie with his stupid sketchpad. When he'd noticed Bonnie taking Damon to the private rooms, he'd paid even closer attention. A lot of Bonnie's regulars took note when she'd started giving Damon special treatment. None of them realized it wasn't exactly her choice. He wondered if he had caused trouble for her. Hated himself for his selfishness if he had.
"Klaus wants to fuck me," Bonnie said, seemingly out of nowhere as she pulled one cigarette from the pack, "That's why he chose this one out of all the ones Jeremy showed him. He thought if he'd caused problems with me and Jeremy, I'd fuck him, even if it was out of revenge. He's not usually this desperate. He was biding his time to make a move but your constant presence at the club made him antsy."
"Did he tell you that?" Damon questioned, hesitating a bit as he wasn't used to them being this candid in public and with him sober.
"Didn't have to," Bonnie said, "He's been coming around the club more. Said it was an opportune time since I've been bending the rules anyway. For you."
Damon winced. "You can't really promise to be unattainable if you're making exceptions for me," Damon surmised.
"Exactly," Bonnie said, "Klaus is the only one taking liberties, though. He's rich and entitled enough to try his hand. Underhanded enough to do it in a way that makes Jeremy look bad and that won't get Klaus banned from the Wolf's Den if Mason finds out. Everyone else just, assumes if you're the exception then there's a reason. Mason thinks it's a good marketing tool. I can tease the clientele into thinking they'll be the next one chosen."
"I hate when you talk about yourself like that," Damon said, "Like you're for sale."
"I thought I would feel that way with you," Bonnie said, softly, "I did in the beginning at times. When you lashed out because I wouldn't open up to you, especially. But I... I don't feel that way now."
"I never wanted to make you feel that way," Damon told her, "It was just easier to get angry with you when I thought you'd never see me the way I see you. It's not an excuse, just...the way I am sometimes. I'm sorry. I wish I could apologize for the blackmail, but it got me what I wanted."
"And what's that?" Bonnie asked.
Damon shook his head. "You know."
"I know what you say when you're drunk and don't think I'm taking you seriously." Bonnie shot back. "But we're here now. In public. You're sober. I'm sober. I'm fully dressed. Not exactly same circumstances. Be real with me. Right here. Right now. What do you want, Damon?"
Because it felt heavier keeping in inside then letting it out, Damon finally admitted it. "You." Bonnie's hands shook slightly as she took out a lighter from her purse. Damon wrapped a hand around her hand and pried it away gently. "Let me," he murmured.
Bonnie turned toward him and placed the cigarette between her lips. As he struck the lighter, her eyes seemed to glow in the light of the flame.
"Did it work?" Damon asked as he lit her cigarette.
Bonnie frowned. "Did what work?"
"Are you pissed enough to sleep with Klaus?" His tone was curious, laced with humor. Wanted to lighten the mood. But he wanted to know. Was jealous, as laughable as it was, considering everything.
Bonnie inhaled. Blew out smoke. "He's not the person outside of my relationship that I've been breaking rules for," Bonnie said, "Not the person I've been distracted by. He's also not the person outside of my relationship I'm interested in fucking."
Damon's hands seemed to freeze midair. "Bonnie," he whispered, not sure how to follow her declaration. This was uncharted territory. He was usually the one putting everything out there, and he needed to be drunk to do that. Usually ended up getting laughed at besides. He couldn't even pretend to laugh now. He was too close to having everything he wanted.
"Are you coming to the club later?" Bonnie asked, conversationally, as she turned back toward the portrait. "I'm going to be Helen of Troy again tonight. I know you're not a fan of the wigs, but I have quite a few clients that happen to love the blonde."
"You get tired of the Queen of the Nile?" Damon asked, clearing his throat, trying to pretend he wasn't envisioning the way that Bonnie's sheer white Grecian dress tinted red under the glow of the lights in the red lit lounge before she stripped it away and revealed her body underneath.
"Not really," Bonnie said, taking another drag of her cigarette, "Maybe I just want to fuck shit up and inspire a war with my beauty," She laughed.
She was joking but she could do it. She could be the face that launched a thousand ships. Better men than him had fallen and would fall again. "A war between who?" Damon asked, returning her smile.
Bonnie turned to look at him then, her hazel green eyes locked with his blue. "Everyone," she replied, "Don't you want to start a war, Damon?"
He did, he decided. He was tired of denying himself. Of sitting on all of his desires and never being able to express them. Of caring about what everyone would think if he fucked up. Paris hadn't given a damn when he'd stolen Helen from Menelaus. He'd only cared about taking what he wanted. Being with who he wanted. Why couldn't he steal Bonnie from Jeremy? Abandon Elena the way that Paris had his first wife Oenone. Damon would be the bad guy no matter what he did anyway. "You think they'll come after us if I steal you away?" Damon asked, "Make me the villain? Scream abduction?"
"Probably," Bonnie shrugged, "Depending on who's telling the story. Some call Helen's story a rape. Some call it an escape. Not even myths have one version. You and I get together. Whether we fuck or get into a full-blown relationship it won't matter. They'll call it whatever they see fit. Jeremy will call it revenge. Elena will call it betrayal. Those who know I'm a stripper or those who find out will call me a tramp. Make me the villain too. Those who know about your past extracurricular activities will call you a philandering jackass. Make me the sweet, misguided girl whose fallen under your influence. But who cares, Damon? Who cares what anyone else calls it? Calls us. What matters is what we call it. What we call ourselves. What we call whatever is between us."
"And what's that?" Damon asked. Wanting something definitive and real between them, even if no one else ever knew or saw it. Even if it stayed just between them, like the nights they spent together in the red lit private lounge.
"Whatever the hell we want it to be." Bonnie answered, and of course that was the point. The freedom of it. To be who they wanted. To live how they wanted. To name or not name whatever the hell this thing was between them. To act on it. To not punish themselves for their own beings and desires. To scream it from the rooftops if they felt the urge.
It was terrifying, the possibility of it. But Damon realized as he eyed Bonnie, that it'd be worse to walk away from it. "Can I ask you something," Damon asked, "And you tell me something true?"
Bonnie nodded her wistful expression telling him that she was remembering their first night together. "You're the only one I can seem to be honest with these days so, yeah."
"Do you want to do this to get back at Jeremy or because it's what you want?" Because I'm what you want, Damon said without saying.
"It's not about Jeremy," Bonnie said, and gestured towards Anna's portrait, "Or this. This confirmed what I already knew. I'm relieved. I can let go. But this isn't about revenge. I surprisingly unsurprisingly don't even give a damn enough about it to really get angry. This is about me. I'd rather be with someone that I can be my whole self with, flaws and all, than be with someone just because I don't want to be alone. Even if that someone I can be my whole self with is you."
Damon laughed, in part because even now she was able to give him shit, but mostly out of fucking relief. "I'm so tired Bonnie. Tired of lying. Tired of being something I'm not."
Bonnie took another drag of her cigarette before placing her free hand over Damon's where it'd settled on the bench between them. "Then tell me something true."
"I'll do you even better and tell you three true things," Damon murmured, "The first is, everything I've ever said to you drunk is something I've always wanted to tell you while sober. The second is, I hate you so much because I can't pretend with you and that scares me. The third is, I love you more than I could ever hate you."
He'd said it. Said it sober. Said it out in public, beyond the four walls of a red tinted private room. Said it while looking into her eyes without her façade. When she wasn't dressed up or stripped down. When he wasn't at the bottom of a bottle. When they were just Damon and Bonnie. He'd said it and it felt incredible.
"You're just saying that because you want me to sit on your face," Bonnie smirked, and it might've ruined the moment if Damon hadn't now known her well enough to know that she was using humor to cover up something deeper.
"Yeah," Damon smirked, "That too." He took her hand in his. "Also, I just mean it."
"I don't know if you know what love is," Bonnie said, seriously, "Or if I do. Or if it's something even comparable for you to what everyone else thinks you're supposed to feel when you love someone. But whatever that means for you, I believe you feel it for me. Even if it's not the kind of love I ever thought I could want."
"You're probably right," he said, "But what I feel for you, I don't know what else to call it."
"I can't say that back right now," Bonnie said, seriously.
He might've been upset were it anyone else. "I wouldn't want you to unless you meant it," he said, "I can wait until you do." He was surprised to find that he meant it. He didn't want the façade. The empty words for appearances sake. Not with her.
Bonnie looked close to tears but composed herself a moment later as she looked around and remembered where they were. "Elena said you two had an announcement to make tonight." The subject change giving him a bit of whiplash.
"What do you mean?" Damon's brows furrowed, knitting together. He thought about their talk in the car. About Elena bringing up commitment and Caroline planning a June wedding.
"She said you two were talking about taking the next step." Bonnie said.
Damon sighed, wondering what stunt Jeremy's own antics had kept Elena from pulling. He had had a feeling she would try to one up Stefan's accomplishment. Impress Giuseppe in the process. She'd already went behind his back to set up a business arrangement with the Whitmores. Why would planting the idea of marriage in everyone's head be out of the question. "Elena's a liar," Damon said, "We don't talk. I can't even fuck her without pretending it's you."
Bonnie's eyes widened and she choked out a laugh. "You're fucking insane." She dropped the cigarette in her hand on the gallery floor uncaring and crushed it under her heel. She turned back to him. "You ever call her my name?"
Damon smirked. "Not out loud."
Bonnie laughed again. "Asshole."
"Are you really going to pretend like you don't get off on it? At least a little bit." Damon teased.
"You and me, we don't pretend with one another." She stood to her feet and adjusted her dress.
Damon stood as well. "I'm breaking up with Elena and quitting my job," and then, "Even if you and I weren't... those are things I need to do for myself. I would tell you to dump Baby Gilbert, but I think that goes without saying."
"It does," Bonnie said, and then, "But you probably need to hear it so, I'm dumping him. I'm choosing you." Damon smiled and she smiled in turn before adding, "I'm not quitting my job."
"I don't want you to," Damon said honestly.
Bonnie's eyes narrowed. "No? What about all that talk about not liking thinking about me being for sale?"
"You're not for sale," Damon declared, "Dancing doesn't make you for sale. It's a job. It doesn't define you. But you enjoy it. And it's not up to me to tell you to stop. It's your choice. Besides that, I like watching you. When you're doing your set and when you dance just for me. I like to watch everyone else watch you. Seeing how much they want you. How they'd pay and kill just for a moment in your space. How they covet you. It makes me feel good to know that they can watch all they want, desire all they want, but at the end of it all I'm the one you take by the hand and lead into that private room. I'm the one that gets to feel you in my lap. That has your scent on my skin. The one that gets you wet-"
Before Damon could say anything else Bonnie's lips were on his soft and warm. The kiss was brief and happened too fast for Damon to react, but it felt like absolution. Like freedom. Like a fucking declaration of war on everyone because she had done it in a gallery full of people that knew them. She'd done it with Elena and Jeremy right outside. She'd done after he'd told her that he loved her. There wasn't any going back.
End Notes: Two parts down, one to go. Hope you're all enjoying this so far! As always reviews are appreciated! Off to work on other updates. Love ya'll!