Vampire Diaries 1. Chapter 1

My plan right now is to concentrate on my exams, and take a break from bamon and writing. I hope I can do that, but since you were so eager to see Damon and Bonnie manage their relationship I thought of giving you this little thing. Put in mind that if I should keep on writing this fiction to make it a proper sequel (in the future, not now - remember the break) it would be angst/romance (and if you've read _Dormiente_ you have an idea about what I mean with_ angst_). So that's up to you. I am asking you again, do you really want the sequel?

###

"I'm dying..." she says in a weak breath, letting her eyes close in the light of the day, which seeps through the thin curtains covering her window to draw patterns on the pastel walls of her bedroom.

She can't stand the light right now, it blinds her tired eyes and they tear up against her will.

"Tell Stefan that I'm sorry," she tells Elena, forcing herself to speak as her dizziness makes her feel like she's floating on a boat instead of lying in her bed. She always figured that if she was going to die it would be in battle against some evil force that has nothing else to do to pass their time but bother them, "And tell Caro that I love her".

Every muscle of her body hurts and her skin is so sensitive that even the sheets feel uncomfortable. No wonder she's saying her goodbyes.

"What?" she hears Damon's voice and she grimaces, because her eyes burn and she can't look at him right now, "No last words for your boyfriend?"

She can be sorry towards his brother for missing out a double date he's happy to skip and has nothing to say to him? Really?

When Bonnie opens her eyes to look at him he's standing next to her bed with his arms crossed on his chest and a grin on his perpetually-mocking face.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she says.

"Don't you?" he asks frowning, "I probably made out with someone else this past week. She looked a lot like you," he informs her, "But now that I look better," he adds scrutinizing her, "She was hotter."

Bonnie, all hidden under a disconcerting number of blankets, gives him a dirty look of indignation and he must keep himself from laughing.

"I can hardly imagine that," she says, her rasp voice threatening to break. She's burning because of this hellish fever, and she feels miserable. No doubt she's looking like hell but it should be his duty to lie about it, but no, cound on Damon to be sincere when he is not supposed to. He's such a caveman.

"The medicines aren't working, yet," Elena says, trying to ignore her discomfort at seeing them like this. She supposes that she will get used to their new routine; to their bantering and fighting ending up in an apnea of kisses.

"Poor bird," he mocks her, bringing his hands to slowly unbutton his black shirt as his eyes don't move from her face.

"What do you think you're doing?" Bonnie's voice is loud despite the rasping.

"Damon, I don't think this is the right moment to-..." Elena is embarrassed and she throws her hand in the air, speaking with the useless hope to stop him, "to do... whatever it is that you want to do right now!"

"Oh, believe me, it's _always_ the right time!" he informs her with a dirty grin, which makes her turn instantly red.

"_Please!_" she insists, shrieking, "Do you realize that I _am_ here in the room?"

"Your choice," he shrugs carelessly, "You can sit somewhere and enjoy the show if you like."

Bonnie says his name with that scolding inflection that makes him think of a sexy teacher ready to hit the back of his hands with a baton, but it surely doesn't have the effect she was aiming for. In fact, they should try that scenery; her desk looks resistant enough, he thinks throwing a casual look that way.

"I am getting to the good part, this is your last chance to buzz off," he tells Elena as he throws his shirt over a chair before reaching for the button of his black jeans, "You already had the pleasure," he reminds her, making a show at unbuttoning his pants, "but I guess you wouldn't refuse a second show," he says winking at her.

Elena gasps, turning to Bonnie with a fast "Sorry," and then walking away, almost slamming the door behind her in embarrassment.

"You are impossible," Bonnie accuses him covering her eyes with one hand. She feels even warmer right now, and she's sure he's making her fever rise more, "I can't believe you're thinking of... _that_, now! You jackass, I am _not_ going to have sex with you!"

"Oh, Bon-Bon," he says with a mockingly condescending voice, "You wound me," he adds, slipping under her blankets. The movement makes her feel the cold air against her warm skin and she shivers, trying to curl up on the side of the bed, away from him.

_When you kissed my lips with my mouth so full of questions_

_It's my worried mind that you quiet_

He slips one arm around her waist and drags her against his body. Having him pressed to her confirms her suspicion about his habit to not wear any kind underwear and she wants to protests at his current attitude and general narcissism but his cold skin, once the aftershock of the change of temperature has passed, is _such_ a relief that she moans, turning around so that she can hold him.

"Oh, God," she says, brushing her cheek on his hard, fresh chest, ignoring completely the fact that his nipple is one inch away from her mouth, like the fact has no relevance at all. She slips one leg between his, rubbing one foot against the length of his muscular leg.

"So _good_," she murmurs in ecstasy, slightly rubbing her body against him, almost exhilarated by the sweet relief she's getting.

"Yeah, glad to be of use, really, but could you please control your enthusiasm before I forget you are actually sick and in need of rest?" he asks, tightening his jaw and concentrating on _not_ moving his hands from the middle of her back.

_Place your hands on my face  
Close my eyes and say  
Love is a poor man's food  
Don't prophesize_

She giggles against his chest, and he twirls a lock of her air around his index finger.

"You are a tease," he accuses her.

"I am not," she replies, uselessly trying to sound offended.

"You're dressed in a pair of shorts and tank top shamelessly rubbing yourself against me while we're lying in a tiny bed and then expect me to not make a move," he reminds her, with a matter-of-fact tone, "I rest my case, your honor."

Bonnie needs to bite the inside of her mouth to keep herself from giggling again like a stupid teen ager. She's not stupid, even if sometimes she wants Damon so much that she feels so.

"It must not be so hard for you to resist me since I'm not hot, remember?"

"I assure you, it's quite hard," he says, with a resigned sigh, "And about that, ignore it."

She blinks, raising her head to look up at him, "What?" she asks, "What should I igno-"

Damon rolls his eyes and moves his lap, meeting her stomach with his erection.

"Oh," she says, blushing as he raises one eyebrow, daring her to say anything. Bonnie just gasps and lower her head, placing her cheek against his chest, trying to ignore this awkward situation.

"You should feel really proud of the things you can accomplish," he says, "And I'm not talking about my physical discomfort, _only_."

"You mean, having you as my personal ice pack?" she asks.

"Among other things, yeah," he replies, "But I was thinking about having such a thoughtful, accommodating boyfriend."

"I already told you I don't have one," she teases him.

"Oh, so you let everyone go second base the first time you kiss them?" he says like he's wondering aloud, "You're such a bad girl. Gives me all kind of delicious thoughts."

_I could hold you in my arms  
I could hold you forever_

He had her sitting on his lap, with both her legs on one side when he slipped his hand under her shirt. She had herr sank into his hair while they kissed, and he was almost with his fingers inside her bra when Elena and Stefan arrived hand in hand for a fast snack in the kitchen, ruining the moment. For how much he urged Bonnie to go back to their previous occupation she was too concentrate on explaining things to her friend to listen to him, and even Stefan trying to distract Elena didn't work out in the end. Apparently it was all way too shocking to let go. That night Damon regretted that Elena wasn't a vampire anymore, because he couldn't snap her neck to make a point, for how valid the said point was.

"I am an independent woman whom belongs only to herself," she almost chants, sounding proud.

"Oh, spare me, this is the most idiotic thing I've heard. And I've heard a lot of them," he protests.

She raises her head again, looking at him with burning, offended eyes, forgetting she's feeling weak, "I should have known!" she shout, looking outraged, "So you think that a woman must have a man to be happy, or count for something!"

_And I could hold you in my arms  
I could hold you forever_

"No, I think that every human being can brag about independence all they want but, when the party's over and it's time to go home they want someone waiting for them. Because in the end all everyone really wants is to feel like they _belong_."

Bonnie blinks, taking in his words, feeling very exposed and very idiotic. How strange that Damon is the one to say something so true, without any shame. She guesses he had a lot more time to process reality then she had.

"You want that too?" she asks, with voice feeble and yet serious.

"Me?" he grimaces, gaining her surprise, "_please_, don't be ridiculous," he says, holding her against him, keeping her face in the crook of his neck, "I _do_ belong," he whispers, kissing her hair, "You smell bad, you know?" he suddenly asks, ruining the moment on purpose and getting a punch on the shoulder.

"_Ouch!_ Such a violent woman you are," he accuses her, rubbing his shoulder with one hand as she slips away from him and lays down with her back turned towards him, "I like you."

"That's because you're a masochist," she accuses him, trying her best to stay mad at him.

_So now we see how it is  
This fist begets the spear  
Weapons of war  
Symptoms of madness_

Damon grins taking her shoulder to gently push her until her back in on the mattress.

"I really like you," he repeats, tenderly, looking her in the eyes and lowering his head to brush her lips with his own.

"Are you sure?" she asks, holding his face to look at him in the eyes.

Sometimes it happens, just like this. He looks at her in the eyes and in between the passion and the strength he reads doubt too. He can't count on his memory inside her head anymore, because despite the lingering images the feelings accompanying them are gone, and she's the girl towards whom he was careful to never show any weakness, like some blind part of him knew that she could complete him or break him like no one else could. So now he has this beautiful, incredible, _doubtful_ girl under him and one long eternity to make her understand what he intends to do with his time.

"Can I show you how sure I am?" he asks, husky, before kissing her with a lazy rhythm. The kind of self-indulgent rhythm that's made for the lucky ones.

_Don't let your eyes refuse to see  
Don't let your ears refuse to hear  
Or you ain't never going to shake this sense of sadness_

When his lips meet hers, chapped by fever, she opens her mouth willingly. Her breath is hot. It takes him just a touch and, her tongue joins his into a slow dance; he can guess the taste of syrup. To think about it, it _only_ took him one hundred and forty-seven years to find out that intimacy has nothing to do with sex; to find out that intimacy feels like a feverish girl in your arms and tastes like awful sough syrup. He loves intimacy, or more likely he just loves her. It's not like he really cares to know the difference right now.

This must be the reason why it's not so bad they didn't have sex, yet. Well, of course it doesn't mean he doesn't want to do it, or teach her every page of the _kama sutra_ and then some. But she manages to make him feel content just to linger in her light.

Bonnie has her fingers in his hair, caressing them, and when she does this it feels like she's straightening his thoughts. In this moments, when she's in his arms offering no resistance to his kisses tracing the curve of her lips, of her slender neck, he thinks he can be generous with the whole world, let them live and prosper and multiply as long as they let him keep Bonnie. If they let him keep Bonnie and her lashes that tremble from pleasure every time his fingers trace her chin and neck. If they let him keep Bonnie and her voice which can sound so sweet sometimes that he almost regrets shutting her up with his mouth. If they let him keep his little bird, his judgy witch, his soul.

"You're hot," she moans as he kisses her neck.

"Aren't you a lucky girl?" he asks, raising his head to kiss her mouth but she turns her face with a grin.

"I meant your temperature," she says, "If we keep this up the whole purpose of having you in bed with me will be defeated."

"That depends on the purpose," he replies, suggestively.

"I thought it was to give me a little relief from the fever."

"Oh, you're _so_ naive," he says, leaning in for a kiss, but she presses her hands on his chest pushing him back a little.

"I'm not," she protests, "Don't try to fool me just because you're embarrassed," she scolds him, "You were trying to make me feel better because you're such a good _boyfriend_."

Damon grins and sighs, turning on his back and pulling her with him, letting her lay on him.

_I could hold you in my arms  
I could hold on forever_

"You use dirty methods to get what you want, did I ever tell you that?" he asks, feeling - in a pretty twisted way - proud of her sweet manipulation.

"Once or twice, " she replies, "But I thought you liked dirty," she adds feigning innocence.

"Oh, I _love_ dirty," he says, taking her chin between his thumb and index finger to make her look at him in the eyes. She's biting her plump lower lip, the little vixen, "And you are doing this on purpose," he accuses her.

"Well, maybe I _am_ a bit of a tease, after all," she admits, smiling at him.

How can she be so gorgeous with a fever and her hair in a mess is beyond him, but he surely is not going to complain. He brushes her hair using his fingers and then, when her scared, amazed green eyes become too much to bear he traps her face into his palms to pull her towards his mouth.

_And I could hold you in my arms  
I could hold forever_

She thinks she really is a lucky girl.

_#_

**Note: **The song I used in this chapter is "Hold you in my arms" by Ray LaMontagne. The title of this fiction is an Italian word and it means "becoming".


	2. Chapter 2

She's lying down on her side when consciousness first starts approaching her. Her mind is clouded by the last remains of sleep but still her palm slips upon the mattress pad, reaching out to touch Damon's body next to hers, just to find emptiness.

There's a moan in the back of her throat, which makes her vocal cord vibrate slowly behind her closed lips; they don't part as she turns her face to press it into her pillow. It faintly smells of Damon and something seems to tug at her heart. It's a bizarre, pleasurably sweet feeling of aching, and the breathless waiting of something that _will_ come.

Bonnie rolls to lay on her back and smiles, opening her eyes towards the ceiling.

_Can we survive  
The heart that's lost control?  
Break all your worries  
And make my heart feel whole_

Her life is not any less messy than before, maybe just the opposite, to be fair, and yet she feels perfectly content_. _She contemplates the word happy, and yes, _happy_ seems like the appropriate word to use; she really wouldn't know, considering how long it's been since she was. She still wore braids and her mother hadn't abandoned her yet. And now she is happy , despite Elena's attitude – like she can't quite understand and she walks on eggshells around her most of the time; despite Caroline having a hard time accepting it – like she's waiting for Damon to show his true colors or for her to change her mind any moment; despite Jeremy's hurt look and silent treatment – like he's trying to teach her a lesson she cannot understand; despite all this she is happy, because of Damon; well, she is as happy as she lets herself be.

She's used to facing evil in many shapes and forms, and still sometimes it's really too much to manage a heart so _full _as she feels her heart to be now, because she's not used to this. She's not used to these feelings. He makes her carefree and bold. Most of all he makes her feel _unique_.

_Well there's nothing in the room  
But the shadow of the wall  
There's no place to hide it  
There's no place at all_

Well, he is Damon, so in between all the wonderful things he surprisingly proved himself to be capable of, he still gets on her nerves. Some _good_ habits can't be just abandoned, he says.

Damon likes to torment her to make her angry enough so that he can kiss her pouting mouth. He says there's something very sexy about her lips when she frowns and when she tries to ignore him, he covers her in tiny kisses all over her cheeks, her nose, her shoulders, until she squirms away calling him an idiot and a jerk. He likes to trap her in corners and against furniture, to murmur compliments she's embarrassed to listen to and he promises her he'll be a good boy from now on.

Of course the promise doesn't last longer than five minutes, but you know what they say, it's the thought that counts. That's what he says, anyway.

And as he keeps her against him, holding her by the waist, as he slowly kisses her mouth like it's an art to master, as he looks down into her eyes with that doubtful expression like he can't believe his own luck, she feels like letting herself fall into something so much bigger than her, and it's a very exciting, very _scary_ idea.

Yet her heart seems to have no fear; her heart it's so stupid that even when he's right there with her – _especially _when he is right there with her - it begins to run faster and faster, like it wants to run after him.

_Will you save me?  
I will believe in you  
I'll give love  
I'll give love_

Every sensation is amplified and she does her best to enjoy it ignoring the fear of getting too attached, without listening to her reason's voice whispering to her that it's too good to be true. She learned a long time ago to never consider anything a permanent fixture, but it doesn't mean she can't enjoy it until it lasts, and this is what she is going to do, she decides, slowly getting up from her bed.

Her body feels heavy and every muscle is aching because of her fever but her mouth is dry and she wants to drink something. That's when she notices a glass of orange juice on the nightstand with a post-it attached to it saying _You need to be strong for the things I plan to do to you - D._

Her eyebrows go up and her lips quiver with a repressed smile, as she whispers "Idiot," to the empty room.

In spite of his constant flirting and innuendos he never tried to have sex with her; and while her reason tells her that it's a thoughtful behavior on his part, the irrational, teen-aged part wants to feel her doubts about his attraction to her. Still, the way he looks at her when they are alone together – sometimes even when they are not – makes her feel so desired that her own mouth hurts with the craving to kiss him.

Bonnie takes the post-it from the glass and puts it in the drawer of her jewel case. She shakes her head once she realized he's making her _giggle_, "Oh, hell. I can't believe it!" she admits to herself in another whisper, then shuts herself up by drinking her juice. The important thing is for him to not know the effect he has on her or she will never hear the end of it. Damon has such a huge ego.

_Save me, your arms I'll fall into  
I'll give love  
I'll give love _

_now_

She hears the noise of an engine and goes to her window to look down. Caroline looks up through the windshield of her Ford Fiesta, waving at her, and Bonnie gestures her to just come up. She can barely hear her calling from downstairs before she's in front of her; flaunting her flesh of golden hair and violet top, smelling like jasmine, orange blossom and something else she can't quite decipher.

"You look less dead today," she comments, cheerily.

Bonnie smiles at her, holding her glass with both hands, "You're so comforting, Care."

"I do my best," she says, walking towards the bed to sit on it, "Feeling better?"

"After being showered in compliments by my best friend?" Bonnie asks back, sitting next to her, "Yes."

"That's good," the blonde says, "Still dating Damon Salvatore?"

"Yes."

"That's less good," she comments, with the same inflection in the voice, like she really didn't expect any other answer, "But good things come to those who wait. He could still stumble and fall on a stake."

Bonnie smiles sadly and sighs, unable to be careless of her position. Damon hurt Caroline deeply – almost as much as Caroline hurt herself - and it's not something she can ask her to shrug away, yet she cannot let go of Damon now. Maybe one day her heart will be sated with so much contentment that she will be able to move on, but right now she's still hungry for whatever feeling Damon feeds her with.

"I'm so sorry it's like this, I didn't mean to hurt you," she tells her, "I didn't really sign up for this. I wasn't waiting to be _swept off my feet _or anything, and this was as unexpected to anyone as it was for me but-" her mouth is dry again, and she feels like smiling thinking about Damon's post-it but she doesn't, because she's not shameless, she tells herself. "But he makes me… happy."

"No," Caroline says, frowning, "He makes you _radiant_," she states, "The bastard!" she adds, throwing an arm around Bonnie's shoulders and holding her against her side, "I suppose it is kind of hard to refuse the one vampire who went back in time just to save your life, knowing that with that move he was fucking every chance he had with you."

"Oh, you know, mostly it's his abs I couldn't say no to," Bonnie jokes, making Caroline laugh with her.

"And the sex is not so bad either," her friend says, shutting her mouth right after, "That was awkward," she says in a rush, letting go of her.

"A bit. And I seem to recall it was, though that memory is quite blurry."

It's not like she tried to call upon it. Well, maybe once or twice, or seven – she's allowed to be curious after all - but that's not the point. Damon's memory of that moment revolve all around a few details, and the more she tries to concentrate on it to expand the memory, the more she feels like her skull is getting crushed by a gripping pressure.

"You'll collect the pleasurable fruits of your questionable choice in love partners soon enough," she sighs, "And you'll give me the details!"

"Thanks," Bonnie says, smiling at her.

"Yeah, yeah," Caroling shushes her waving her hand in the air, "You do have a good effect on him. I mean, you are a great damage control."

"I think you're overestimating my powers."

"I'm not talking about _those_ powers. I'm talking about whatever it was that pushed him to show up at my door and apologize."

"He apologized," Bonnie says, sounding very much like a question.

"Yes," Caroline says with a nod and very wide eyes.

"Really?" Bonnie insists.

"With words and all," she spells.

"Was he good?"

"He's a three in that department." Caroline admits grimacing. "But he's almost a full nine in another one," she adds with a wicked smile as she hits Bonnie gently in the ribs with her elbow.

#

Elena closes her eyes at the feeling of Stefan's fingers in her hair and his hand caressing the center of her back. Moments like these, when they are alone, doing nothing else but lay on top of each other talking about anything like it's some secret bounding them both, are pure bliss and she feels like there's nothing else she may ever need. Nor food, nor air, like he's the nourishment of her own soul.

"We have still to talk about my brother and Bonnie," he says, bending his head to press a kiss against her forehead. She moans her disapproval at the subject, as she lays on his chest.

"It is so strange, I don't want to," she whines.

"Do you mind?"

"If you insist," she concedes with a sigh, "But I'm hurt by your lack of interest in having me on top of you," she flirts.

Stefan grins up at her, twisting a lock of brown hair around his finger, "I'm always interested in having you on top of me," he says, his voice lower by an octave makes her picture herself in that position, "But what I was really asking is if you mind that they are together."

It takes her a moment to take in her words – the scene she was picturing was quite distracting.

"Jeremy refuses to talk to me about it, and I kinda feel bad because I know he was hoping they could make it right this time around."

"I know everything about rooting for your brother to get his happiness," he admits, thinking of Damon, "But you know what I really meant to ask you."

She knows; she would like to be above these kinds of feelings, but she is not, not always at least. Sometimes she feels her wounded pride protesting into her head. She relied for so long on Damon's devotion to her, and she was flattered, and she felt safe because for how bad things could go she had a safety net to wait for her fall, she had someone who would always be waiting for her with open arms. But all she really wants at the end of the day is to have Stefan's arms around her, and so it's too egoistical of her to demand such loyalty for Damon when she cannot return it.

"I have everything. I have you," she says, "So I cannot really be jealous, can I?" she asks, "Even though I am disappointed in you," she frowns childishly.

"Why is that?" he asks, curious.

"You didn't travel time only to be with me," Elena scolds him.

"Oh, but I did," Stefan corrects her, "I traveled time and waited 127 years for you to be born, so that we could be together. Because no one else could take your place."

Coming from anyone else, something like this would sound cheesy and fake, but those words roll from his tongue in such a manner, with such affection, that she feels them vibrating through her, melting something inside. Something that makes her breath break in the middle of her throat. Her heartbeat speeds up, vibrating through Stefan's chest as they are pressed together and she brushes her thigh against his sex so that there will be no misunderstanding about what she's telling him.

"You've been waiting long enough," she says with a suggestive voice, "Let's be together. _Very much_ together."

#

His eyes snap open and his pupils contract instantly as he watches the ceiling above him. His flashing blue iris eyes gradually begin to change color as he feels the air fill up his lungs making his chest rise. The heart is pumping blood. A groan escapes his throat and he considers the alien sound with a sort of fascination. The broken and dislocated bones are healing and going back to their places; he can feel them moving in his whole vessel.

Something moves inside his mouth; his tongue – it is the pulpy thing that humans have in their mouth, right? His tongue presses against his gums where a tooth is growing back.

His vessel didn't take much care of himself – what was his guardian doing? He bets he's been retrograded – and stepped in front of a train, so once he occupied the body, he had to work a lot more than he had intended to take control of it. Yet, moving this thing is kind of fun.

_So you're feeling tied up to a sense of control  
And make decisions that you think are your own  
You are a stranger here, why have you come?_

Coordination it's not his forte, considering he never needed it before and so it takes him an age to understand how to sit on the morgue table. Even so, dizziness makes him fall back, hitting an iron wall. Still in this position he can observe the muscles of his naked appendages. He has to admit the human body possesses a sort of beauty, especially the lower part used to traverse space. He's eager to use it so he pushes himself off the table and almost falls face down; the towel falls from his lap and he steps uncaringly over it. It takes him a bit to figure out that the walking must be done one foot at a time – how do humans manage?

If he was able to read a clock he would have known that walking from the table to the door took almost thirty minutes, but for now his brain is stuck to the basic functions so he doesn't know. Turning the knob of the door proves to be equally hard but it is kind of good to learn on his own. This must be satisfaction – he decides – and he thinks that learning to open a door must truly be an intense experience for humans. So far he has enjoyed it, and he can't imagine many things as good as this one.

_Why have you come, lift me higher, let me look at the sun  
Look at the sun and once I hear them clearly, say_

Once out in the hallway he feels his eyelids close on their own several times, and the light makes his eyes water up. When he turns he sees a man turning the corner and stopping the moment he sees him. The man goes pale, says "Wha-ah-" and then falls laying on the floor.

_Who, who are you really?  
And where are you going?_

He tilt his head to the side wondering why the man chose to rest right now, was he so very tired? His brain suggests unconscious, still the word doesn't explain anything. He must master the human language.

He takes a step before realizing that the man resting is actually all covered with clothes, when he is not. He really doesn't know why humans bother, since their souls are a lot prettier than those fabrics, but he supposes that something so precious must be sheltered with as much barriers they can find. So they have bones and flesh and clothes. Yes, that must be the reason.

He concentrates, trying to figure about how things around him work and he finds out lockers open – thank you vessel's brain – and he finds clothes to wear inside a plastic bag labeled as evidences case #223ZF. Wearing the shirt is a tiring process – the buttons are hell to close up – and he doesn't pay any attention to the two holes on the side, nor the stains of blood. Wearing the pants is another challenge, and he falls back against the wall.

_I've got nothing left to prove  
Cause I've got nothing left to lose  
See me there waiting for you  
Who, who are you?_

There is a mirror in the locker room and bending towards it he falls with his hands on the washbasin – oh, more words, this brain thing is fantastic; his balance not so much – and looks at himself. He's covered in perspiration; his iris eyes are becoming green now, the cut on his plump mouth is closing as he watches, his jaw is strong and his nose is covered in freckles. His hair color is a clear brown - but he cannot be sure it will stay that way yet – and he's about 5 ft 10.

Now, there are more pressing matters than deciding if his looks are good – which he still wouldn't know because he has no idea what is humanly considered beautiful – and so he leaves the room and does his best to walk through the hospital floors imitating every other human. He doesn't know why they keep stealing looks at him – probably because he has still no idea of the necessity of wearing shoes – but he's too concentrated on listening to people talking to master the capability himself.

Two guards holding a cup of coffee each walk past him talking to each other, and he recognizes their clothes; the same the tired man was wearing.

"Bobby showed up drunk again," one of them laughs sipping his coffee, "This time he claimed that a corpse tried to sexually assault him."

"A corpse with poor taste, then," the other one says, "Oh, but I am more curious about what part of his body was still hard because of the _rigor mortis_," the guard adds, joining his friend in the moment of hilarity.

The doors open up on their own and he stops for a moment – it is very exciting.

He walks the streets trying on the sideways, watching other people do the same. He thinks he's pretty good at this human thing – they picked the right spirit for the job.

A girl turns to look at him and her cheeks become a little red; he almost stops to go back and touch them just to know how the whole process works, but he can't. She is waiting for him.

He can feel her soul and he walks towards it, so that they can be together again. He really missed it.

_Now you're moving on and you say you're alone  
Suspicious that this string is moving your bones  
We are the fire, we see how they run  
See how they run, lift me higher, let me look at the sun  
Look at the sun and once I hear them clearly, say_

His brain suggests to him that what he's feeling right now, coming from his limbs is pain, and he watches his feet as he walks, but he sees nothing. Especially not the thumb tack jabbed under the planum. To distract himself from it he decides he'll practice speaking more English so he will be able to greet her properly once they officially meet.

He opens his mouth wide, as he walks, and tries "Ohhh" but the sound is all wrong.

"On," he tries once again, but he still can't quite get it, "On,"

The human language is so silly, really. He can do this.

"Bon-eie," he says, breaking the sound as he thinks about it. But it is still good – he almost got it right.

"Bonnie," he says, and his face's muscles stretch into a smile.

_Who, who are you really?  
And where are you going?  
_

_#_

**Note: **The songs used in this chapter are "Save me" by Golden State feat. Tyler Blackburn, and "Who are you, really?" by Mikky Ekko. The new character is "portrayed" by Colton Haynes.


	3. Chapter 3

She puts the glass in the kitchen sink and touches her forehead with the palm of her left hand. The fever is going down, she can tell, and she smiles thinking that she is going to enjoy her party tomorrow. It was depressing to think that she needed to cancel her birthday party just because of a stupid flu.

Instead now she can plan shopping for the perfect dress with Caroline, something to shows the world that she is eighteen and beautiful; well, mostly something to leave Damon speechless so he will shut up for a while.

But the first thing she needs right now is to take a bath. She spent two days in bed without moving if not for what was strictly necessary and now she can enjoy a hot bubble bath in peace.

In the bathroom Bonnie holds her hair up, making a messy bun, and then strips down letting her clothes fall on the bath mat before stepping into the tub. The change of temperature is amazing and she sighs in pleasure; she feels enveloped by a warm embrace and the fog rises in the air releasing a delicate scent of honey; it's something quite exotic and luxurious.

One strand of hair, which escaped the ribbon, falls on her shoulder and into the water but she doesn't care, relaxing and closing her eyes to enjoy the quietness. From the stereo come the notes of a piece of Ludovico Einaudi. She had gone to a store to see if she could find a few new CDs to use for her party and had seen the cover of the album on the wall on the other side of the store. The connection to both her and Damon's memory had been instantaneous and she had left with the CD secured into her bag and a smile on her lips.

It is crazy how things went between them; mostly the fact that there is a _between them. _They still haven't managed to have a proper date yet – of course the jerk didn't ask her and, considering the age he's from, you'd think he'd remember manners – but every day she finds him waiting for her outside her school with a cross smile and that look in his eyes. He's flaunting that same look like he's ready to take his mate on a journey of sins, where the night last twenty four hours and it's always the perfect place to have sex.

Every girl notices the sensual aura coming from him, and he enjoys the attention even though he never takes his eyes off her.

For five days – scratching the ones she spent with the flu and where she didn't actually have school – she found him there, and she has become the object of envy of quite a few girls. Now she's the cool girl dating the sexy, older guy, which did wonders to her popularity, even with her own father.

Rudy noticed Damon when he showed up to fix what he had done to him with his compelling, and later, when he called from wherever he was for work, he started asking Bonnie about her friends. _Anyone in particular I should know about? _Not really, she had answered. _That Damon boy was really kind to help you out with your research. _Yeah, dad, you could say he's from another age, she had said trying to sound nonchalant. _ Has he graduated from a long time?_ I don't think he has; graduated – she meant – but she's pretty sure he did go to College, a few times.

So this is her life now; lying to her father about the integrity and the vital statistics of her _boyfriend_, buying things that remind her of _them_, a promising beginning of a functioning relationship with the poster-boy for _Give blood Give life – _in quite the literal fashion – and a mind that goes to him more times that she likes to admit.

Oh well, things could be worse. Bonnie knows everything about worse.

Once the water lost its heat she gets out of the tub, wrapping herself in a soft white towel and goes to her room to dress. Her body seems a lot more invigorated and she's pretty sure the fever is almost gone. Such a change in the space of two hours; she was never this fast to recover but she's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Her cellphone starts ringing as she's brushing her hair, sitting on the stool of her dressing table and she bites her lower lip to keep herself from giggling - on the display it flashes the name _my stallion of a boyfriend. _He probably got his dirty hands on her phone when she was sleeping.

She clears her voice before asking with a bored tone, "Who's this?"

"How many boyfriends do you have?" he asks back, flat.

"Is this a trick question?" It is kind of hard to keep her cool with such a silly conversation but she does her best.

"We're feeling smart today," he says.

"Oh no, I _am _smart. And you're trying to violate my privacy," she answers, trying to hold back the smile in her voice.

"Believe me, I'm interested in _violating_ other things of you, rather than your privacy," and despite the humor, his tone still manages to be suggestive.

"But I could be the one not being interested," she suggests with a casual tone, standing from her stool and walking outside her room, to go to the kitchen and have something to eat. Her regained health opened her stomach, it seems.

"You should know I'm always up for a challenge. Five minutes from now I'll have you _begging,_" and she hates a bit the shiver going down her spine.

She's about to reply, just so he won't have the last word, when there's a knock on the front door. Bonnie smiles, as she's walking down the stairs.

"You were really eager to prove your point," she says. Well, there is some satisfaction at having him so ready to try and change her mind.

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you just knocked on my door?" she asks back, walking through the living room.

"Sorry to disappoint you, little bird, but I didn't," and as she speaks she stops a few feet from the front door. Through the glass that's not covered by the curtains she can see the thorax of a boy but she doesn't recognize him. Before she can open she sees the holes in his shirt, the stains of blood on the fabric and the candid, unharmed skin on his side.

"Uh, I wonder if he'll like my blood type," she comments, thinking he's a vampire. She stands behind the door, trying to look into his face. The guy stands there with his arms along his sides as Damon's voice come through the phone.

"A vampire?" he asks, not really expecting her to answer, "Don't open. Lock yourself in. I'm on my way."

"And miss out the fun?" she asks, horrified by his suggestion. She's not a damsel in distress, she is a powerful witch and she's not going to wait to be saved.

"Is it so hard to just do as I tell you for once?"

"Yes, when your suggestion is stupid and debasing."

"You just cheated death, we have no way to know if destiny is trying to make another try," he informs her, with his patience gone, "Last time you died two days before your birthday."

"Two days before means _yesterday," _she reminds him.

"I'm not going to take the chance," he decides. But that's not something he can do, he can't take a decision for both of them, even if suddenly his caveman attitude is strangely endearing instead of being just a plain insult.

"You're worried, that's sweet," she says with a smile, as she looks into the light blue eyes of the guy outside her door, "But I have a guest now. Bye," she adds in a rush, hanging up on him before opening the door.

_And the heart is hard to translate  
It has a language of its own_

"Are they making a discount on daylight rings? Because I have a friend of mine, whom would surely love to have a few so she can coordinate them with her clothes," she says, with a jovial voice. After all, she can burn his ass without so much as a snap of her fingers.

He looks at her with a lost, unblinking expression, but doesn't say anything. When she looks at his hands she realizes he's not wearing a ring. Mystic Falls has its shares of villains, but not often the old fashioned bad guys with guns or knives. Still, even if his attire would suggest he's not really one to split hairs, he has such a _naïve_ look to himself.

_Naiveté_ is something that stands out incredibly when you start dating the king of innuendo, and this guy has it.

_It talks in tongues and quiet sighs,  
And prayers and proclamations  
In the grand days of great men and the smallest of gestures  
And short shallow gasps_

"Maybe there's been a misunderstanding," she says, offering a tiny smile, continuing to speak when he doesn't say anything "I'm sorry, I must seem very rude to you," she adds, uncertain about how to push him out of this muteness, "What can I do for you?"

"Bonnie," he says, pronouncing her name slower then he needs to. The sound of it is airy, like he's using his diaphragm, the way only singers and children do, and his voice possesses a low vibration that calls on her attention.

"That's me," she confirms, nodding. Yet, he doesn't add anything, so she presses him with as much gentleness she can, "Do I know you?"

"I know you," he says, and his eyes seem to stare through her. It's a bit unsettling so she speaks, just to break the tension in the air.

"How so?"

"I watched over you, constantly."

Bonnie blinks, and feels suddenly uncomfortable, even if he still looks harmless. She knows better than to trust appearances.

_But with all my education I can't seem to command it  
And the words are all escaping, and coming back all damaged_

"Like… a _stalker_?" she asks, almost nervously, raising her eyebrow.

"Stalker," he says, like he's talking to himself, "To pursue persistently and, sometimes, attack_._" He says, "No, not like a stalker."

"I watch your soul," he explains, "I take care of it. Sometimes I sing to it."

"I think you're confused," she says, taking a step back.

"The brain of my vessel is suggesting to me that you might be scared and distrustful of me," he says. His arms are still along his sides and he didn't make a single move since they started talking.

"Trust me, I can defend myself pretty well," she says.

"I know," he answers. His tone speaks of a matter of fact. _He knows._

"Why don't you come in?" she asks, opening the door widely, watching him take careful steps inside her living room.

"Sit," she adds, gesturing towards the armchair.

Bonnie watches him study the piece of furniture before coming to realize how he is supposed to do what she asks. She sits in front of him, joining her hands on her lap.

_And I would put them back in poetry if I only knew how  
I can't seem to understand it_

"So," she says, clearing his voice, "What's your name?"

"Name?"

"Yes, you _do_ have a name, don't you?" she asks, trying to be patient. He really doesn't look like he's trying to measure her resistance. And she's dating Damon Salvatore, after all – her resistance is pretty high.

"Not a human one."

"Okay," she nods slowly, thinking about how to proceed with this, "Can you tell me why you are here?"

"To watch over you."

"Weren't you doing that already?"

"In spiritual form," he clarifies, "But you're the first witch to reset the clock-"

Her patient look becomes an interested one, because now she knows he's not just a crazy boy whom escaped from a mental institution. He's what he says he is, even if she still doesn't know _what _he is exactly.

"-and they decided that I need to be with you, in this form," he explains, opening his arms and looking down at himself.

"This is someone else's body?" she asks, pointing a finger towards him.

"Yes, this is my vessel. It was badly damaged so it took me a long time to fix it; for it to absorb the lines of my spirit and come to find you. I apologize."

"T-there's no need," she says, shaking her head with a trembling smile. He can be not crazy, but the situation surely is.

"I suppose you experienced some kind of illness because of my absence, so I must."

"I had a flu," she says.

"It was not a flu. It was me, away from your side. I was able to travel in my vessel only two hours ago."

"I'm confused," she says releasing a breath and massaging her temples with her fingertips.

"I apologize again. I still have to master human language. What part did I not explain correctly?"

Before she can say anything the front door opens and closes loudly and Damon comes rushing in "Bonnie are you-", stopping when he sees them both sitting in the living room. Damon looks from one to the other and then back, to stop his eyes on the boy.

"Who are you?" he asks plainly, grimacing. He is not a vampire, still Damon does not like his presence there, at all.

"I'm Bonnie's guardian," he answers.

"Aren't you a bit young for that?"

"Well," he says with a nod, "I am only four hundred years old, but nevertheless the honor has been given to me to be one of her guardians."

"How many do I have?" she asks loudly with a hint of surprise in her voice. This is news to her.

"Two."

"Everyone has two guardians?"

"Humans have one. Special people like you have two."

"That's-"

"Stop," Damon says, with a hard voice, "What the hell is going on here?" he asks, trying his best to not bite the guy's head off.

"That's what I'm trying to find out, if you'd let me" Bonnie answers.

"And how do you plan to do that exactly? Having him over for tea?" he asks, pointing at the boy with one hand.

"I can't really _kill first then ask questions_ _later_, can I?" she asks back, crossing her arms under her breast. He's just so unbearable sometimes.

"I would not mind that option," Damon answers.

"I had no doubt about that," she snorts, before looking back at her _guardian_, "So you're supposed to stay here and watch over me?"

"That's my duty," he says, "We never had a witch living twice before, so I'm here to make sure your life follows its plan, without any drift."

"What's this plan?" she asks, curiosity winning her over.

"I have not been told. I only know there is a new one being designed for you."

"A new one?" Damon asks.

"The old one has been abandoned when you died. In that moment your guardian has been passed to other assignments and your destiny has been erased, so now there is an empty space to fill up with choices. I've been assigned to you when your clock has been reset, along with another spirit, but I have been chosen to stay with you here, to balance your soul and take care of you until your plan is made and you become the person for it."

"What if I don't want a plan?" she asks.

"Everyone has a plan. You do your choices but there is always a plan. It's the order of the universe."

"So you're going to follow her around like a puppy dog?" Damon asks, already bothered by the perspective. Will the guy demand to be in the room as they make out? Not that he would mind; at least that would give him an idea of who is what in Bonnie's life.

"I'll watch over her," he says, "Constantly."

"You seem to like that word," Bonnie steps in.

"I am not yet accustomed to the human ways to know if I am capable of liking anything, but if you say that I like it, I surely do," he answers with a smile. His voice is a sweet vibration in the air, and Damon snorts.

"You're lame," Damon decides, "Have you met my brother?" he asks, with irony.

"I have not."

"Don't mind him," Bonnie says, before sighing to inform him that "You really need a name."

"I propose Gus," Damon steps in with a grin "Or better, _Dudley_", making Bonnie roll her eyes.

"Doesn't he have a 'Dudley' face?" the vampire insists.

"He doesn't," Bonnie says, giving him a dirty look.

She taps her index finger on her upper lip and her guardian watches attentively.

"Since you're new at this human thing I'll give you some free advice," Damon says with a grin, calling his attention, "Staring is rude, and if the one you're staring at is someone else's girlfriend, that's dangerous too. In this case you'll go back to your spiritual form before you even learned how to say the word _funeral."_

"It doesn't seem like such a hard word," he says, ingenuously replicating the vampire's grin, making Damon rub his face with his hands just so that he won't put them around the guy's neck and strangle him.

"It is when the funeral is _yours_," Damon replies starkly, ready to attack his neck.

"Can you two stop?" Bonnie asks, exasperated, before turning to her guardian, "What do you say of the name Constantine?" she asks, gently, "I think it would suit you."

"Then it does," Constantine decides.

To say that Damon is not enthusiast about their new acquaintance is pretty much the understatement of the century.

#

Note: The song I used for the first meeting of Bonnie and Constantine is "All this and heaven too" by Florence + the Machine.


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't like him," he says, grimacing. His ethereal face signed by lines hardening his expression, as he keeps his arms crossed over his chest, like a shield to oppose to her logics.

"I never would have guessed that much," she says, trying to diminish the sarcasm of her words with a conciliatory tone, "But you heard the whole story. My fever was because my soul was unbalanced by his absence, so how do you propose that I avoid a coma if not by keeping him close?"

He frowns, moving his eyes from her as he clarifies "Not _too_ close."

"Well, that depends," she says, with a smile taking one step towards him, making him look back at her, "What do you exactly mean with _close_?" Bonnie asks, staring into his blue eyes. Hi dark pupils dilate so much that the blue is only a thin ring.

She let her arms slip on his shoulders and around his neck, "Is this too _close_ for you?" Her body doesn't touch his but she can clearly smell the peculiar scent of his skin and his cologne.

"You're teasing me," he almost growls.

"Totally," she nods, with an innocent face.

Damon smirks at her attitude, cocking his head to the side, and holds his arms around her waist to quickly crush her against his chest. She moans because of the slight pain given by the sudden pressure on her breast and ribs.

"I don't want him touching you," he says. Damon is giving her a command masking it with what can be hardly defined as a gentle tone.

"You forget I am the one who gets to decide who can touch me," Bonnie says with a dry tone. She cannot tolerate the caveman attitude, no matter how sexy he can make it look, but she can't make his blood vessel explode either, just because it's more fun to make him comply in other ways.

He bends his head, brushing his mouth on hers as he murmurs, "So. Decide," before kissing her with a hard stroke of his tongue. Touching her bare skin with his fingertips under the hem of her blouse he can feel the blood rushing, and he uses his expertise with his mouth to try and convince her to do what he wants her to.

The world feels warmer into his embrace and she feels filled with a delighted wickedness she is eager to explore, but not now. Not if it means letting him think he can manipulate her into doing anything he asks her to do. Not if she thinks differently.

His mouth travels to reach her jaw, and then he starts to nibble at her earlobe. Her breath is heavy against the side of his face. He's caressing the idea to make her scream his name, just so the people in the living room will hear who she belongs to.

"I will…" she swallows the knot in her throat, "…consider your suggestion," she says biting her lower lip to keep herself from giggling.

Damon moves his head to look at her straight in the eyes, "You find great amusement in tormenting me," he says, with an intensity that stuns her, making her speechless.

"It's fine by me," he adds admitting, "As long as it makes you happy," letting her take a peek under his cocky façade and fragility. Then Damon bends his head until his forehead is pressed against her left shoulder, and lets his hands travel up to her shoulder blades.

Bonnie feels dizzy with an impossible mixture of tenderness and desire, letting her hand caress and then hold at his black hair at his nape.

"You have nothing to worry about," the sincerity in her words taking all the breath from her lungs, "I always stick to my choices."

She can hear him inhale the smell of her skin as he hides his face in the crook of her neck, so she starts caressing his scalp, letting her fingers run through his hair into a reassuring rhythm, but as she does so the air around them change. It feels suddenly heavier, charged with tension and he starts to kiss her pulse, lightly sucking on it.

"Are you trying to mark me?" she asks, trying to keep her voice steady.

"No, but wouldn't that be only right?" he whispers.

Bonnie can't tell. Wouldn't it be? It would be so easy to say _yes_, she realizes in that moment that she longs to. And just as her minds races to get to a rational answer, he urges her to "Stop thinking so much," before kissing her with a blind abandon, cupping her face with both his big hands.

It is impossible for her to think straight, to think _at all_, when he is like this. There are those short, sparkling moments that make her light headed with a flaming yearning, and then they end. Like now, with Elena's voice calling from the living room.

#

"So you have a Leo!" Caroline says, turning towards Bonnie as she enters the living room followed by Damon, beaming with excitement as Constantine looks at her from his place on the couch. He concentrates to catch the meaning of her statement but isn't able to make any rational conclusion.

"The brain of my vessel has a few references to the word _Leo_, but I can't seem to catch the connection," he says.

"Leo is the most famous white angel in the world," she says with a smile, rushing to sit next to him, "Handsome too. But you beat him."

"A fellow guardian," he says with some stupor "I was sure I was the first one to come onto this plan. But even so, I'm not incline to violence," he says, unaware of the short space between them, "And I would never think to harm him."

"That's not what she meant," Elena says.

"Caroline is a TV junkie," Bonnie explain with a smile, "Leo is a fictional character and what she meant to say is that you're- well, your… _vessel _is really attractive."

"Please! Attractive? I suppose if you go for blond and plain," Damon burst his displeasure at the term she chose to use, but Bonnie only rolls her eyes at him.

"Oh," he nods his understanding, "I thank you," he says turning his face towards Caroline, "It took the shape of my spirit once I occupied it."

"So he's beautiful on the inside too!" she says, looking up at Bonnie as she stands in front of them, with Damon only two steps away.

"It seems like it," Bonnie says, looking at Constantine with a bit of amazement, "But even so, we need to fix the outside."

Constantine turns his hands inspecting his palms, then his arms, asking "Is my vessel wounded somewhere?"

"Your clothes," she says, making him raise his eyes on her, "They are not supposed to have bullet holes or stains of blood on it."

"I see," he says.

"So, we're going shopping!"

"Maybe we should postpone shopping after we get other information," Stefan suggests, "Like, for example, how long Bonnie can be without you and not be ill."

"From six to eight hours," he answers.

"Good to know that you won't follow her to the bathroom," Damon mutters.

"Well, if she p-"

"Don't," Stefan stops him, raising both his hands, "Whatever it is that you were going to say, don't say it. _Trust me_."

Constantine studies him for a few seconds before nodding.

"How long it would take for her body to be well again after she showed the first signs of illness?"

"It's variable."

"And how long it would take for her to… die, without you?"

"Three days to a week."

"Stupid question, you won't leave her and she won't die," Caroline says, like she's not accepting any other possibility, "Now that we got our vital answers we'll go shopping," Caroline says, taking the guardian by the arm and dragging him away, "Come on, Bon. Elena."

Bonnie turns to Damon to press a kiss on his lips but he holds her in place to ask "Can't you leave Barbie and Elena to play dress-up with the new doll?"

"If I do that he will die of exhaustion before the day is over," she explains patiently.

"And the reason why we should not let this happy event occur is that…" he says, frowning, like he fails to see the flaw in that plan.

"That I become ill, enter a coma and die?" she shrugs, asking, "Rings any bell?"

"Right. You have the bad habit to die on me in the most inopportune moments," he considers with a nod.

"Besides, we really don't know how to kill a guardian. Since he's a spirit maybe he's just… eternal."

"With my luck, he surely is." He says, and as she turns away from him he catches her hand and pulls her back to him, "What do you say we meet tonight? We should discuss the repercussion of having a guardian in town. You know, _the butterfly effect,_ and all that philosophical stuff about why we are alive and walking the earth. Other than the fact that our parents had sex and I am technically dead but still an immortal stud and why a freaking spirit is too when he should be on another damn plan riding rainbows, instead of feeding my girlfriend with lame pick up lines," he says, making up the reasons as he goes. He's thirty seconds away from inviting her over to show her a collection of stamps he doesn't even have.

"He's not," she says.

"He is, he just doesn't know," he insists, "And we should really discuss… whatever it is that we should discuss."

"Pressing matters, I see," she plays along, with a nod, "But we'll have to have more than one meeting, considering the seriousness of the subjects."

"You're so conscientious, I knew you would oblige," he says, his voice low as he stares at her plump lips.

"Duty before pleasure," she says, with a smile.

"Right. Absolutely," he nods, "Anything you say," he adds once he forgets what was the excuse he used in the first place to have agreeing in meeting him. He's about to kiss her when she just gets on her toes and press her lips on his, leaving him standing there.

The door closes behind her and the others, and Damon mutters "I don't like him."

"I never would have guessed that much," his brother says, repeating Bonnie's exact words.

Damon gives him a dirty look and Stefan shakes his head in amusement. Why everyone seems to think this is funny is beyond him.

#

They drive for forty minutes to get to the shopping center and Constantine never says a word. Bonnie is not even sure he is with them, as the girls discuss _him_.

"Are you okay?" she asks as she is sitting next to him in the back seat of the car.

Constantine turns his head towards her, and it takes him a moment to understand what she is asking. As a spirit he is the one in charge of humans well-being, for he is in a state which cannot be altered, but not now. Now he is partly human, and Bonnie _cares _for him enough to ask him if he's okay. The question makes him feel warm inside his chest and he brushes his hand against it to try and control the sensation; it's strange, almost alarming, but he smiles nonetheless.

"I think I am. Thank you."

Bonnie is slightly put off by all the gratitude she can read in his eyes at her question and she feels compelled to protect him, even if the roles are the opposite. Well, she supposes they can protect each other. It seems only right to her.

The girl buys him a pair of shoes, since he's barefoot, they help him wear them and then take him with them.

In the shopping center they walk together, Caroline drags him around with her arm linked under his, talking fast about brands and colors and things that "will bring out your eyes."

"Aren't they supposed to stay where they are?"

Bonnie and Elena laugh at Caroline raised eyebrows and Constantine's innocent question. The witch pats his arm with her hand, reassuring him, "It's only a way to say that some colors make the color of your eyes stand out, so that you'll look even better."

"I get it," he says, and then he turns to Caroline, "I apologize for my incompetence."

"You don't have to worry," she tells him with a smile, shaking her head to that her blond waves touch the skin of her cheeks, "No one is as competent as me in the fashion department. Just stick with me and you'll learn everything you need to know to survive."

She starts to walk again but then stops all of a sudden.

"Are you wearing any underwear?"

"Underwear," he repeats, "clothing worn under the outer garments, usually next to the skin," using the brain of his vessel like a dictionary, "I don't."

Elena brings one hand to cover her face and her embarrassed smile, while Caroline shoots Bonnie a sneaky look.

"Well, we're here for that, after all, aren't we?" she asks, making a face towards her friend to stop her from doing or saying anything that will complicate the situation more.

They buy Calvin Klein body trunks in eel grey, water reflection and black and two packs of microfiber stretch trunk in black and white.

"Black and white is the basics for underwear," Caroline instructs him, "And if you pick Calvin Klein you can never go wrong," she adds putting the packages into his arms, and moving them so they will not fall.

"Follow me," she says, and he steals a glance towards Bonnie to ask for permission. She nods, putting one hand in the middle of his back to follow him as Elena walks on the other side of him.

"Now, t-shits and socks." Caroline says, ahead of them.

"I can tell you have quite the biceps," she says with a flirty smile turning her head to look at him and then turning again to keep on walking, "So it would be a pity not to show them."

"Sleeveless t-shirts?" Bonnie asks, foreseeing what's yet to come.

"You read my mind," Caroline says, with a sigh.

"Do you?" he asks.

"Not exactly."

"It's just a common saying," Elena adds.

"Here, classic crew style," Caroline says, "And of course it's Calvin Klein."

"Because with Calvin Klein I can never go wrong…?"

"Exactly," she says, and it takes the girl a lot of effort not to giggle. He's adorable and all wrapped up in a nice, _hot_ package.

"Socks, and this is the only thing you should never buy in white and never wear in bed. Like never. It doesn't matter if you're cold and you're dying from a tropical fever. _Never_."

"I can't really die, unless it's for Bonnie."

"I don't know what that means," the vampire says, looking at him with confusion, "But that surely doesn't mean you can wear them in bed."

"Speaking about the bed, I suppose he needs pajamas," Elena suggests.

"Right. Do you sleep with only pants or the shirt too?" Caroline asks him.

"I don't sleep," he says.

She sighs, shaking her head.

"It's okay," Bonnie reassures him, "You probably never did as a spirit, but in this form you'll need to rest every now and then. And you'll need to wear something in bed, I suppose."

"Only pants…?" he asks, like he needs to know if she approves.

"Your choice. If you want only pants you'll have only pants," she says, "Caroline." And before she has the time to finish her name the vampire is already putting Ralph Lauren pajama pants in navy blue with a faux button fly and an elastic waistband and silk pajama pants in black by Calvin Klein into the guardian's arms.

"Caro, are you dressing _Ken_?" Bonnie asks, watching the silk item.

"Barbie's new beau is Blaine, actually," she corrects her.

"My bad."

"And I'm having so much fun!" she squeals cheerily closing her hands into two fists and raising at her shoulders, "Aren't you? I promise I will let you pick his shirts."

"Okay, yeah," she admits with a smile, "But he's the one wearing the clothes so he should choose too."

"He knows nothing about fashion and clothes, we can't just abandon him in time of need," she protests making her friend laugh.

"Such a humanitarian spirit."

"Caroline, be reasonable," Elena says.

"Okay, " she sighs, "he will… have a saying in the matter," she concedes.

#

He carries the bags as the girls pick clothes from the stands to inspect them, and then place them on his chest to make sure the color or the model or the size is suitable for him. They speak, and giggle and sometimes they scream in happiness – well, Caroline makes most of the screaming – and they make him smile. He is amazed to realize that he didn't really need to decide to do it, but his face just went on its own.

"Look at you," Bonnie says, keeping an ink blue shirt on his chest as she stands behind him, "Do you like it?"

Constantine looks at the shirt, at his own eyes in the mirror, at Bonnie next to him. Her cheeks touching his shoulder, plump lips curved into a smile, warm green eyes.

"I like it," he says. He's getting better at this human thing, in fact he is getting experienced at feeling things.

"Then we'll take it," she decides, putting the shirt on her bent arm and going back to the research. Constantine tries to imitate them, so he takes clothes, watches them and wonders if he'd like them. It's new to him, taking decisions, making choices, and it's kind of good.

From where he stands he sees two guys talking, shoving each other and laughing.

"What do you think about this?" Caroline asks him, showing him a black long sleeve sweatshirt with studded shoulders detail. But she doesn't let him answer, noticing the direction he was looking to, "Oh, that's just the peculiar signs of men fellowship," she explains shrugging, "Now back to the sweatshirt."

"I'm not sure I like it."

He wears his underwear, socks, a pair of jeans and the shirt Bonnie showed him earlier before leaving, and they throw away the stuff he had on.

In the end they come out of the mall with a blue burnout affect t-shirt and a burgundy t-shirt - both with fixed high roll up sleeves; a Worn By green t-shirt with the number 3 in the chest, inspired by Mick Jagger, in a crew neck fit with over dyed marl finish, picked by Caroline. Her exact words were, "it will make Damon feel _so much better_ to know that Constantine is the third wheel of this triangle", to which Bonnie replies that "There's not triangle, or any other geometric figure". They also got him a t-shirt with a dip dye finish with the line "Love will tear us apart" picked by Elena, four pair of jeans, one grey jumper with a side zip knit, one white shirt, one black military style double fronted coat with optional high collar and two pair of shoes.

And almost five hours later, they are home again. Constantine falls asleep on the couch, with the intention to rest for just five minutes, Bonnie follows right after.


	5. Chapter 5

The first instinct when she doesn't answer his phone call is to go to her house, break down the door and find her. He follows it, at least the first part of this _brilliant_ plan.

From outside the door, with his hand midair ready to knock, he hears the distinct sound of her breathing, the steady sound of her heart, and it calms him down. She's sleeping, he can tell, and she's not alone. He's not really worried about what she could have done before falling asleep – if there's anything Bonnie is, it's being loyal, even if towards an ass like him – but he knows himself. He is greedy of her time, and attention. If he could decimate the global population just so that she didn't have anyone else to think about he probably would.

Damon knows she would not approve this kind of thinking, and he keeps the morbid fantasy to himself, but he even knows that there's not a single cell in his body that's deserving of her. Lucky for him, he's always been too selfish to care about it.

He walks around the house to go to the window, and through the glass he can see her, asleep on the couch, her legs surrounded by shopping bags – Constantine sitting right next to her.

He takes the phone from his pocket and dials her number again. It's on vibration, he can hear it from where he is but she can't, of course. The movement of the phone on the edge of the bag, which lays half reversed on the coffee table, makes it fall to the ground and she wakes.

Bonnie turns around to see Constantine asleep, then quickly bends forward to take the phone and walks away from the guardian.

"Hey," she says, with a low tone, before trying to clear her voice from sleep.

"I thought you had run away," he says, with a light tone.

"I tried, but I had the doubt I had left the gas on in the kitchen so I came back."

"Such a responsible girl. Lucky me, then."

She looks at the watch on the kitchen wall as she takes a bottle of water from the fridge, holding the phone against her ear using her shoulder, and pours herself a glass.

"I stood you up, didn't I?" she asks, realizing that it's half past ten.

"Something like that. Did you have fun?"

"As much as you can have when you're with the Shopping Nazi," she says, smiling, "Listen, I'm sorry. We were so tired…"

"We?"

"I-" she grimaces realizing she should have talked about this with him in advance, "Yeah, Constantine is here. On the couch for tonight. I could set up a room for him. It's probably better if he lives with me, you know," she says trying to make him see reason.

"It seems the most practical solution," he says, starkly.

It throws her off to hear him give in so easily.

"I think it is," she says, weakly; she expected some resistance, just to make clear how much he dislikes having someone else inside his territory without his invitation. Like she is his home and he can't give the key to anyone he does not know and trust. Instead he just told her that it's _the most practical solution._ Strangely enough, it makes her uncomfortable. He didn't threaten to kick the guardian out, he did not try to flirt or make her promise to make up for their missed date.

"Is everything alright?" she asks, trying to figure out this feeling of _wrong_ in her stomach.

"Yeah."

The less he speaks, the more uneasy she feels and she wants to fix it. She wants to feel like she felt just a few hours earlier, when she was inside his arms and everything was right in the world.

"Damon, are you-"

"I'm tired, and you should rest too, " he interjects, "See you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

"Goodnight, Bonnie."

"Goodnight, Damon."

But for the first time since she gave this _thing _a chance, there's nothing good about her night, for there's no trepidation in the dark, only coldness accompanying her during the long hours. Damon's voice was so distant, there was no rage and yet she could feel the space between them like he was talking from the other side of the ocean.

Bonnie curls up into a ball, under the sheets, to hide herself from the strident sound her doubts make.

#

Bonnie moans as her brain clears, and the unpleasant feeling she fell asleep to comes back to welcome her into the new day. Today she becomes eighteen; today her biggest worry should be finding someone to babysit Constantine as she and Caroline go shopping for a dress for her party. Today she should feel excited and important.

Today she feels like crap.

Bonnie moans again turning on her side, opening her eyes to see her cellphone on the nightstand. The inbox is desolately empty and she stares at the display for long moments, fighting the urge to call him. She scrolls the screen, uselessly looking for his name before remembering he changed it. She stops on his number and yet pride won't let her call. She didn't do anything wrong after all, why does he needs to give her the cold treatment? It's not even his style. When he is angry he can't keep it to himself, he needs to make the world as miserable as he feels, so why?

Her stomach twists thinking of his disappointment; she is disappointed too right now. He is supposed to be her boyfriend, he's been nagging about the word so much and when it's time to act like one, to make this day happy for her he is the one thing that ruins it.

Yes, she missed their appointment but it's not like she did it on purpose.

"This day sucks!" she whines, rolling again to face the other wall, only to find herself face to face with her _stallion of a boyfriend_. Her heart almost jumps out of her chest.

"It barely started," he says, watching her – his elbow shored up on the mattress, his head resting on his hand, "I think you should give it a possibility. It might surprise you for the better."

"Or give me a stroke," she protests with a low voice, pressing her hand above her chest. Her heart didn't calm down yet, but just seeing him there, next to her, makes it all seem stupid. She can't even remember what she was worried or upset about.

"Oh, little bird," his words sound like a purr, "You're legal now. I will stroke anything you want me to," and he grins wickedly at her, "Not like prison would have stopped me."

This is the moment when she would usually protest, but just a few hours ago she had missed his innuendo, his shameless attitude, she had missed _him_, and right now she can't find the energy to play this game they always do, so when she misses the beat his grin fades and his eyes become darker and then his mouth is on hers, and his whole body presses hers against the mattress.

"I missed you so much last night," he confesses heatedly against her open mouth, before kissing her again.

"I-, "

He has enough strength to let her breathe, but she must do it quickly because he clearly has other plans for her mouth, "I didn't mean to… stand you up".

She doesn't want to open her legs but her body, under the sheets, moves on its own volition and Damon is soon nested in between them.

"I forgive you," he says, kissing the curve of her neck.

"How generous of you," she replies trying hard to control her breath.

"But if you do it again I'll have to punish you," his lips stretch into a smile against her pulse and he braces himself for the pain exploding in his brain.

"Do you promise?" she cannot believe she really asked him _that_, but Damon makes her feel so bold, so good about herself that she really can't see anything bad into flirting with danger. He makes her reckless and quite happy about it.

He turns his head, his blue eyes locking with hers, "Well, well," he grins, "My legal tease is naughty."

"Only aware of… a need for discipline," she says, biting her lower lip, as he studies her amused, "I am the rightful one in this relationship, I am supposed to set an example and so I can't just, you know, forget about my obligations."

"Stop biting your lip," he says, his eyes into hers.

"Why?"

"I wanna do that myself," he says, and then he lowers his head to kiss her again, teasing her lips, caressing them with his tongue before entering her mouth again. His hands go to her shoulders and he lowers the straps on her top, as his mouth presses a kiss to her chin. He traces the curve of her neck with his human teeth, delicately sucks on her pulse point, to then resume a journey where every step is a kiss, down her collarbone, to her cleavage, to stop where the fabric of her clothes weakly defend her from his hungry mouth.

He wants to pull down her top, use its spaghetti straps to trap her arms so that he can taste her slowly, but she wanted to go slow. This is what she told him the night she showed up at his door. He's trying to be a gentleman so he goes back to her mouth; his tongue dangerously coming close to mimicking what he'd like to do to another warm, wet part of her gorgeous anatomy.

"If you're naked, cover up, I'm about to come in!"

It takes her a moment to realize that what she heard is Caroline, calling from the hallway. Damon groans, rolling away from her, and sitting with his back against the headboard of her bed.

"What-"

"Morning, lovebirds," Caroline says, opening the door with a big smile on her face, "I am unutterably sorry about the interruption-"

"Yeah, you're the very look of contrition," Damon says, rolling his eyes.

"Aren't I?" she asks, amused by at the idea that having him swooning over Bonnie gives her plenty more chances to bother him, "Anyway, as I was saying, me and Bonnie are busy today. She needs something to wear and-"

"Oh, she can wear me down all she likes," he says, winking at Bonnie, sitting next to him.

"I was talking about dresses and shoes and accessories," she explains, titling her head to the side as she speaks like she's talking to a baby – a very dumb one.

"I was talking about sex, exchange of body fluids, in every position described in the Kama Sutra, and then some."

"You're disgusting," Caroline and Bonnie accuse him, grimacing.

"I know."

"Oh, well, if you really want her to greet her many guests _naked_ tonight… I think everyone will appreciate your choice," she says, with a sugary smile.

Damon doesn't even answer her, just turns his head towards Bonnie to ask "What are you doing still in bed? Come on, go get dressed."

"Chop, chop," Caroline says, almost jumping from the joy of another shopping session.

"But Constantine-"

"I already took care of that. He will be fine."

Bonnie looks at both of them like they are crazy, and then walks slowly towards the bathroom, considering the idea of an escape through the window.

"And remember: nothing short, or see-through or strapless!" she hears him yelling from her bedroom, making her laugh.

#

The temperature inside the house is high, too many teenagers with their hormones in turmoil, dancing around each other and drinking stuff they are not allowed to. They cannot appreciate a bottle of Evan Williams – which is bottled in Bardstown, Kentucky, and aged for a minimum of four years. Not his favorite, but still good enough to not waste it on someone that cannot tell the difference between their right hand and the left – and he has no intention to teach them.

"You, _suckle,"_ he says, gritting his teeth, taking the bottle of bourbon from the hand of the boy with one smooth movement, "Do not drink alcohol until you're of age, do not touch any girl unless she wants you to and, more importantly, do not step on my Persian rug or I'll clean it with your tongue."

Bonnie cannot hold this against him, truly; he gave him a few good _strong_ advices that will probably help him keep his life - which he will probably spend watching porn in the basement of his mother's house until he's forty years old. That's probably when his mother will die, and then he will watch it in every room of the house.

Damon turns around to see Matt talking to _Joe Black,_ just to get a slap on the back, and feel the weight of Tyler's body as he leans on him with his arm around his shoulder.

"He's a charmer, isn't he?" he asks, keeping his eyes on Constantine, "I bet he doesn't even try."

"Lockwood, I'm saying this with the greatest respect," Damon says, sarcastically, before turning his eyes to look into Tyler's, "Take your arm off me or I'll take your arm off you."

The other guy grins at his threatening look, "Raw nerve, brother?"

"I broke my brother's neck on more than one occasion, if you want to join the family I'd be more than pleased to welcome you appropriately," he says, and the weight of the guy's arm rises from his shoulder.

"You're a fraction less stupid then what I thought," he adds with a smile.

Tyler smiles too, turning to call "Hey Matt," gesturing him to come closer. Damon doesn't move, because he cannot really admit to be threatened by a guy that probably doesn't even know what to do with a woman, _yet_, considering the looks received by that oblivious excuse for a boy that he is.

"Hey Tyler,"

"So, you're Constantine," Tyler says, excited to have the possibility to rub the situation into Damon's face, "I'm Tyler."

"Not that he's important enough that you should remember his name," Damon adds, faking a smile.

"Oh, I see,"

"Damon is joking," Matt explains, trying to balance the clash of egos in the room. He thanks God that Constantine is still unprovided in that department; a jealous vampire and a werewolf in dick-mode are just enough to deal with.

"Am I?" Damon asks, eyeing Matt with an amused expression. He just remembered why he doesn't like having Matt around; too much sainthood, he has enough dealing with Stefan's, whom actually spent the day with Donovan, taking care of their new spiritual pain in the ass.

"So," Tyler begins again, "I heard you're some sort of angel. Bonnie's."

"Yes, the honor is mine to monitor on her safety."

"Interesting. Something like _The Bodyguard_?"

"The brain of my vessel is strongly suggesting to me what I believe you usually refer to as _pop culture,_" he says, "A good movie, it seems to think."

"Yeah, buddy," Matt says, swallowing, "I strongly suggest that you stop talking about your brain like it's someone else or the situation could get a bit hard to handle. Okay?" he asks with a pat on his arm.

"I will, thank you for the advice."

"Yeah, yeah, back to the angel part," Tyler steps in, again, "You're a very lucky guy, you know, Bonnie is quite beautiful."

Constantine gulps for a moment, considering his statement, and then manages a smile and a shrug, "I suppose she is."

"You mean you don't like her?" Tyler asks, disappointed. Here it goes his last chance to pour salt into Damon's wound.

"I like Bonnie. Very much," he says, slowly, like he's thinking about how to explain with words the concept that he needs to express, "She is the thing I like the most out of everything I experienced from this form, but I am not used to pay attention to the surface," he says, "I see her soul. It is beautiful, indeed."

The werewolf slaps a hand on his chest, "Man, this is like the worse pick-up line _ever_, and believe me, I heard them all, but you say it so smoothly that it might actually work," he says with a laugh, turning to look at Damon to say "I am _so_ happy he's not stuck with Caroline, with his big, soulful eyes, twenty-four hours a day, into her house, five feet away from her bed."

Damon is not going to kill him in the next five minutes only because he would have problems hiding the body.

Before he can answer him, and throw in there a poorly veiled threat, he hears Bonnie's heartbeat in the crowd that invaded his house, so he turns his eyes to catch a glimpse of her.

"She's here," both he and Constantine say.

Angel-boy is really getting on his nerves. He could even postpone the killing of the dog to hear the angel's bones crack a bit.

"How-" Tyler is ecstatic at the turn the night took – it's like Christmas, his birthday and the first time he got laid all wrapped up into the most amazing five minutes of his life, "How do you know?"

"I can feel her," Constantine explains with that phlegmatic way of his – how much time did he spend with Stefan, exactly? "There's a bond that allows me to always come back to her. Like gravity. That's how I found her in the first place."

"You should write it down, in case you want to write her a song," he says, opening his hands like he just had a revelation, "don't you think, Damon?" but when he turns around to aggravate him further he cannot find him anymore.

#

Of course the dress is short, the gown is slightly see-through and it's strapless. The only flaw the dress can be accused of, in Caroline's opinion, it's the fact that Damon will appreciate it very much, despite the caveman talk he does on occasion to both flatter and tease Bonnie.

The dress is a little marvel in ivory lace with a touch of sparkling accents accentuating the empire waist, and a sweetheart cut that emphasize her breast. A pair of seductive metallic Badgley Mischka sandals with crystal and chain adorns her feet as she walks into the Salvatore's boardinghouse, where everyone is already waiting for her.

Bonnie smiles to everyone that shouts her good wishes but Damon is nowhere in sight.

"I think someone is about to tear this dress off you, and only a few of them are girls that are appreciating the manufacture," Caroline tells her as they walk through the crowd in the living room.

Bonnie just smiles, trying to enjoy the attention, but it seems like without Damon around there's no point in being dressed up. Yes, she enjoys finding the time to take care of herself, but the whole time she spent trying dresses, picking shoes or putting make up on, she did it with Damon on her mind. Instead, there's Stefan kissing her cheek, telling her that she looks beautiful, and no matter how much she loves Stefan, it's still anticlimactic.

Bonnie accepts the wishes with a brilliant smile, exchanges pleasantries with a few cheerleaders, and gets a hug from Elena. Even Jeremy calls for a truce and gives her his sincere wishes of a happy birthday. But there's no trace of Damon.


	6. Chapter 6

Everyone is having fun, which is ironic considering she's having none. Bonnie gulps a punch and smiles to the night awaiting her.

There's _Hey Na Na_ playing in the background when she starts dancing her way through the crowd, pulling Caroline by a hand to make her join her. They mix their dancing skills with strange faces and old moves from _Saturday Night Fever. _By the time they both point their index fingers to the ceiling in their best John Travolta impersonation she's laughing happily; even Elena joins them as they perform a hustle line dance called The Bus Stop. Many of the guests try to reproduce their moves with a very odd, very amusing, more than sometimes uncoordinated result.

Matt gets Constantine to dance too, and with surprise he shows to be more athletic and coordinated that many of the people on the dance floor; the rhythmic hitting of the parquet is engrossing and Bonnie catches a glimpse of Stefan's smile as he watches them.

His tender smile as he watches Elena dancing is a cold shower she soon recovers from, steading her faltering smile and keeping up the rhythm, but Damon's absence is heavy once again and she misses him.

When the music changes to something slower everyone is smiling brightly and Caroline throws an arm around Bonnie's shoulders.

"That was fun. And you caught the eyes of a lot of pretty boys, you dirty girl," her friend tells her.

"Did I?" Bonnie asks with a smile. She only wanted to catch Damon's eye. Yes, it is childish, but she wanted him to look at her in awe, to tell her that she's the most beautiful girl he ever saw, to kiss her just to make the point. Instead, he's not even there.

"Not that you care for any boy but a jerk of a vampire you're obviously waiting to finally show up," Caroline tells her, with a patient look on her face.

Bonnie turns to look at her, sporting an indifferent expression on her face. "Are you talking about Damon?" she asks, looking around, "I didn't even notice he's not here," she adds with a shrug.

"Oh, well, that's good to hear," Caroline tells her, "I was feeling a bit guilty knowing how Tyler teased him about Constantine, but now I don't. And it will be good to look at his face when I tell him how little you care about him. Actually, why wait?" she asks, grimacing, "I'll go tell him right now."

Bonnie holds her by the arm using both hands when she tries to walk away from her, "Is he here?" she asks, hopeful and excited despite what she said just one moment ago.

"Yes, but as we established, you don't care that he-"

"Oh, come on, Caro," Bonnie rolls her eyes at her friend, trying her best not to smile too brightly at the idea that Damon didn't stand her up, "Maybe I care a little bit," she admits biting her lower lip.

"I was afraid of that," the blond says, rolling her eyes, "Then, you should tell him. He's upstairs. Last room at the end of the hallway."

Bonnie feels almost stupid for being so excited about seeing him, but she can't help herself. She feels all the trepidation of her age, of this relationship blooming with a bizarre kind of beauty, and she runs upstairs, her dress moving around her thighs, her heart beating faster.

Every door is locked, included the one with a little sign on it, saying _Private Party (entrance free for hot witches and their vampire boyfriends, password required.)_

She smiles, keeping her hands on her waist and shaking her head.

"The usual," she mutters to herself, before knocking on the door.

"Who's there?" Damon asks from the inside.

"Me."

"How do I know that?"

The question has her blinking.

"What?" Bonnie crosses her arms under her breast giving a dirty look to the innocent closed door.

"Password, please," he says.

"What are you talking about?"

"Password, please," he repeats, sounding like a broken record.

"I don't know the freaking password!" she replies exasperated, closing her fists at her sides.

"My girlfriend knows how to enter my good graces, so she would surely know how to enter this room as well," he says, almost chanting.

"Damon, you're an idiot. Open the damn door!" and just like that the door opens and Damon grins at her, slightly leaning into it.

"See? You knew the password," he says reaching out to take her hand and pull her inside "Come here, beautiful," closing the door with a kick.

_No, I don't understand  
How I held it together  
Before I could hold your hand_

The room is large and empty, but for about a hundred lit candles scattered on the floor making it look like it's made of gold and a silk sheet covered with a picnic basket, a wine bucket containing a champagne bottle and two stem glasses. She's so surprised from what she sees that she doesn't realize she's still holding his hand, and when she turns her head to smile at him she finds his eyes down on their hooked fingers. Damon looks up at her, grins as he intertwines their fingers together and pulls at her arm so that she's pressed against him, as he holds her by the waist using his other hand.

"Happy birthday," he says, "I expect you to be really touched by all this," he tells her with a smoldering look, like he's trying to convince her that it is better for her to agree with him.

"What if I'm not?"

_And I can't, I can't recall  
If I knew who I was before you knew me _

_flaws and all_

"That's not an option," he answers, slightly shaking his head. "I had the approval of the Emperor of Diabetic Comas. He even picked the cheesy music playing right now," he lies. "Let's not waste it," he adds, making her spin and bringing her back to him again.

He's charming, in a preposterous way that's all _him._ He has one hand at her waist, the other holds her hand and guides her. She ignores the magnetic feeling between them in favor of the delicacy of his ways, and tries her best not to loathe the empty, although small, space between them.

Bonnie tries to distract herself and that's when she realizes there's a smell under the light scent of the candles.

"What's this smell?" she asks.

_Oh, feels like a lifetime ago, oh,  
And do you know_

"I had to make the room soundproof," he explains, "So we wouldn't be bothered by the music your boring guests are dancing to," than he lowers his head to add, "And if it happens that you scream my name so loud and ecstatically that it could offend the ordinary sensibilities of the neighborhood the police won't handcuff us and throw us in a cell, even though I wouldn't mind the id- ouch!" he moans in pain when she kicks his ankle with her pretty shoes.

Damon bends forward, letting himself slightly fall on her as he grips her lower than her waist, his long fingers brush against her ass.

"Damon!" she scolds him, pushing with both hands against his chest to make him stand.

"What?" he asks feigning ignorance "I fell. I'm an innocent man in the hands of a very violent woman," he says, with the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, before kissing her. His mouth is soft and his tongue is lazy touching hers. With a moan he captures her bottom lip and sucks on it, before making her spin again.

_Who did I used to be?  
How was there ever me without you?  
Don't want to ever be without you  
Without you, me without you_

"There's hardly anything innocent about you," she reproaches him, with a tone way more flirty that she had intended.

"Oh, songbird, do me a favor, stick to that thought and make it dirtier," he tells her with a grin as they keep on dancing.

Before she can reply and inform him that he is disgusting she realizes something else, "Wait!" she says, earning a curved eyebrow, "You mean you actually soundproofed the room _yourself_?"

"Why?" he asks, grinning, "Are you sensitive to the appeal of the man from the working class?"

"I suppose you can say that," she nods slowly, her eyes sparkling, "I always had a crush on this factotum whom worked for the Lockwood family."

"Really?" he asks, his voice a bit too high, his smile a bit too fake. "Then Miss Bennett, please, let me wash your bodywork. I am _really good_ with my hands. You will be so satisfied that you will beg for me to keep on doing the dirty work."

"You're impossible," she accuses him, trying not to smile to his innuendos.

"Oh, like you don't love it," he says, a playful look on his face. "You're even dressed in _white_. Are you trying to send me a message?"

"_Yes_. The message is that I am beautiful in white."

"Uh, the effort!" He says, rolling his eyes. "You would look beautiful in a potato sack."

"Does this mean you like it as much as a potato sack?"

"It means you're a wonder. It means I can't take my eyes off you. It means it's quite a beautiful dress that looks good on you but would look just as great in a crumpled heap next to my bed." But this time when she kicks his ankle he dodges the blow and presses a kiss to her lips.

_Baby I can't believe  
I ever lived or breathed without you  
Don't let me ever be without you  
Without you, me without you_

"You're bad," she accuses him, wetting her lips.

"I am. Will you-"

"I'm not spanking you," she cuts him off, leaving him speechless for a moment. She doesn't even need to read his mind to know what passes through his head and it's new to them both, to have someone that gets them so well that words are unnecessary.

"You finish my lines. It kind of turns me on," he says, snapping his tongue against his palate.

"I know," she says, smiling. "My wit is counter-productive. I'm too sexy for my own good."

"That you are." he nods, before dipping his head to kiss her, again. The kiss is slow, deep, and he forgets they're still dancing so he just stops in the middle of the room, cupping her cheek with both hands and indulging in her mouth like she's his favorite sin. Bonnie holds on to his wrists, with no resistance and no other thought but this: let him come to her through the warm, wet strokes of their tongues; let the passion ignite slowly, until every nerve is alight with a tantalizing, electric sensation that will burn them both when the moment it's right.

_Lost at sea, I found your shore  
And I can't crumble back to the man that I was before  
You're all I am, I'm only this  
Since my world was reset  
For the better at our first kiss_

#

People dance all around him, smiling broadly, laughing, having fun. Constantine can feel the energy of all the souls around him moving through the air, bumping from wall to wall. Their rhythm is sort of contagious for he feels his body itch with the desire to move, too. He explores this new instinct by moving his head, then his shoulders, but his new attempt is interrupted by a girl that - passing him by hand in hand with her friend – bumps into him, her breasts brushing heavily against his chest. His hard body doesn't move; his balance and coordination are a lot better, even thanks to Matt and Stefan, who spent the afternoon teaching him a human recreational activity called football, a sport that his vessel used to enjoy a long time ago.

"Sorry," she says, smiling up at him and pushing a stray blonde hair from her forehead. "I didn't mean to hurt you," she adds with an ever sweeter smile, moving so that her breasts caught the attention of his eyes. Her friend giggles behind her, eyeing him strangely.

"It's okay," he says, smiling back at her. "It is clearly just a general lack of coordination on your part." Considering the way her chest is pointed at him – no wonder she is inclined to falling.

She looks at him, her expression bewildered.

"That is the strangest pick up line I've ever heard." She smiles nervously. He observes her for a few moments, trying to guess the reason for her nervousness, but he can't.

"I have no intention to pick up anything." Her expression darkens visibly for a moment, before she goes back to smiling widely. He finds her sudden jump from one expression to the other, without any kind of continuity, disturbing.

"You're playing hard to catch," she says, leaning slightly into his personal space and caressing his chest with one hand. Constantine observes the change in their positions, and the other girl behind her licking her lips. Yeah, he realized by himself, after playing football, that hot temperatures make the mouth dry and that's quite uncomfortable.

He looks at the blonde girl again, feeling obligated to keep the conversation going, as it seems the most polite thing to do.

"I put to test my physical capabilities all afternoon," he explains, "and I don't think you could ever catch me, anyway. You don't have a body that would permit that. I, on the other hand, could catch you anytime. You seem easy to."

Her look goes from confusion to something he can't decipher exactly.

"You don't look well," he observes, "maybe-"

"Ladies!"

Constantine turns to see Tyler next to him, one arm suddenly wrapped around his shoulders, "Ladies, ladies," he repeats, "You're confusing him with your hotness!" he says, feeding them a charming smile.

"I'm not co-" He can't finish his statement because Tyler slaps him in the middle of the back, and urges him in low voice to shut up.

"Why don't you ladies give him a moment, so he can appreciate his good fortune and the gracious swinging of your hips?"

Tyler holds his breath as he watches them go.

"What the hell, man! They were inviting you to a threesome," he says, turning to Constantine, his eyes out of their orbits.

"They didn't say so," he answers blankly. His brain is very detailed on the subject. The images popping up are quite funny, almost ridiculous, but the idea is not totally displeasing he realizes as the information unfolds.

"It's called subtext," he explains, opening his hands in the air.

"I am not familiar with that, so I think they should have just asked me," he says.

Tyler looks at him like he's crazy, but of course Constantine is _not familiar with subtext_ so the fact totally escapes him. He wants for a girl _to ask_ him, maybe with a please, because that's common courtesy. So, chances are that he will just keep politely insulting girls that are playing with the idea of fucking him, which will just make them die with the desire to please him. The two rejected girls are probably building him up as the heartbreaker, man-that-never-has-to-ask reputation right now, making him earn the right to get away with anything.

Tyler shakes his head when this realization hits him: "Man, they will _fucking_ _adore_ the ground you walk on!" he burst, with a funny smile on his face.

"Who are they?" Constantine asks, confused.

"Girls at our school, of course," he says, slapping the back of his hand on his chest.

"I don't go to your school."

"From the day after tomorrow you will," Tyler informs him, pulling out of his pockets a fake ID. Caroline asked him to procure her documents as soon as they realized Constantine needed to stick around so here they are, "We just need to take a picture of that pretty face of yours and it's done. Monday, you'll ask to be transferred to our school. Girls will throw themselves at you."

"Transferred from where?" Constantine asks, totally missing the important part of the conversation. Tyler rolled his eyes.

"Who cares?" he asks with a shrug of plain disinterest, "Ask Stefan, he's an expert in that department."

"Schools have football teams," he says, collecting the info from the brain of his vessel, but not talking about it aloud to follow Matt's suggestions.

"Yeah, they do."

"I wanna play football," he decides. He liked the feeling of freedom and purpose he experienced that afternoon, and mostly the comradeship shared with Matt and Stefan. They didn't talk much, but for a few directions they gave him, but he's not really into words yet. Girl's words especially seem tricky, they often say the opposite of what they want to say and expect for their interlocutors to know that.

"You really want them to beg for it," he says with a grin.

Constantine blink, trying to understand his meaning.

"I'm not familiar with-"

"Yeah, yeah, pal," he cuts him off, "Come with me. Let's have a drink."

#

She sits with her legs on the side, the candles light glow on her skin and he is reminded of their first time together, which has not happened yet. Damon pours the champagne into her glass - on the black label pointed towards the ceiling, the golden characters say _Bollinger, Champagne Vieilles, Vignes Francaise, _produced in 1992, the same year Bonnie was born. The familiar contact of their fingertips touching as he gives her the glass makes him feel strangely proud.

She grimaces a bit as she tastes the champagne. She didn't expect a _noir._

"You don't like it?" he asks with a smile, sipping on his. It is fun to see her make faces as she drinks a 1.645 dollars wine, but he'd better not tell her this tiny detail.

"Yes, I do. I do," she reassures him, taking another sip, and enjoying it, "Uh, it was made the year I was born," she says.

"Really?" he asks watching the label on the black bottle, pretending he didn't knew, "What a coincidence. I am genuinely surprised."

"You're overdoing it," she says, trying to call his bluff.

Damon grins. "I don't know what you mean," changing the subject, "But really, don't you think you're sitting too far from me? This is meant to be a romantic moment. Us, a glass of champagne and a deep, meaningful conversation… Instead, look at you."

Bonnie looks down at where she's sitting, and she blinks. If she stretches her leg her foot will end up on his thigh so they are hardly that far.

"I'm right here," she says.

"And that's the problem," he explains, "Why don't you come over here, sit on my lap and we'll talk about the first thing that _comes up_… " he says, adding "to mind," to adjust his shot.

Bonnie rolls her eyes and look at him like she's trying to decide the way to kill him, yet her lips twitch for the effort to not giggle.

"What?" he asks, "I believe in communication. Stop, listen, be open and honest," he lists using his fingers. "Pay attention to nonverbal signals," he says, and then purses his lips together repeatedly like he's kissing the air. Bonnie shakes with laughter, and screams when he pulls her by the arm, locking her against him, her back pressed to his chest. The silk sheet under her makes the task easier, and as she's softly trapped in his arms, she feels his lips against her temple.

"What comes after the _paying attention to the nonverbal signals_?" she asks, slightly breathless.

It takes him a moment to remember. "Stay focused on the here and now," he says; his mouth above her ear, his voice low.

Bonnie turns her head, looking at his mouth. "I think I can do that," she says, lacing her arm around his neck to pull him down.

#

"If there's something good about Damon," Tyler told him, picking a bottle stashed behind the piping of the kitchen sink, "It's his taste in whisky." He can smell the good stuff from miles away. "And women, I should add, considering whom the lucky bastard has his hands on. Bonnie is hot, and she's really something."

"Something like what?" he asked him.

"I meant that she's special."

"She's a witch."

"Not that kind of special," he passed him a glass of whisky.

"I see."

"No, you don't, but give it time," he had told him, and then they had started drinking. Constantine took a cautious first sip that had him coughing. The amber liquid was strong. It burned his throat and spread a warm sensation in his stomach. When Tyler had disappeared to go dancing with Caroline, leaving the bottle on the table, Constantine had continued taking sips, considering the complications implied in the human interactions, the novelty of feelings and sensation that – for how bothersome they were – still managed to be interesting. Then after another sip, and another, and another, he found himself contemplating the pores on his skin, suddenly very fascinating.

"Here you are!" Matt says, finding him concentrated on his arm.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Drinking with Tyler," he explains even though Tyler is clearly not there, slightly slurring the words.

It doesn't take more than a second for Matt to connects the dots, "Oh," he says, "Well, I think you drank enough."

"You can't be sure."

"Trust me," the blond boy tells him, "I _know_."

The guardian nods once at him, and then again when his friend tells him to stay where he is. That's easy because he feels like his coordination might fail if he moves. When he comes back he's with Bonnie, Caroline, Damon, Stefan, Tyler and that other girl, whom name escapes him right now. Well, she doesn't count. No one really does, compared to Bonnie, even if he rather likes Matt, Stefan and Caroline.

"He's drunk!" Matt tells Tyler.

"It's not my fault. He's a big boy, he can take care of himself!" the other one protests.

"He's forty-eight hours hold!"

"How could you be so irresponsible?" Caroline asks.

Tyler doesn't reply, just shakes his head and looks at Constantine, weakly protesting with a "What the fuck, man!"

The guardian really doesn't know what he did wrong. He followed everyone suggestions after all, so he takes a guess.

"I'm sorry for ruining the threesome," he says with a hardly apologetic expression.

"What?" Caroline bursts, turning to face Tyler.

"I did not-" he starts, getting interrupted by his angry girlfriend that informs him "You're dead!" before turning her back and walking away.

"It's not what you think-" he tries to explain running after her.

"Threesome, uh?" Damon considers aloud as Bonnie sighs.

"Constantine, how are you feeling?" she asks, gently, sitting in front of him at the dinner table.

"Fine. Fine," he says. "Everything's fine, the party is fine, you are-"

"Fine?" she asks with a smile.

"Hot," he answers, remembering Tyler's words.

"That's it. I'm going to tear every feather from your angelic ass!" Damon says, angrily.

"I don't have feathers on any part of my anatomy."

Bonnie turns to Damon before he can do anything stupid, admonishing him with her eyes. "Stop being unreasonable. He's drunk. He probably doesn't even know what he's saying."

"Well, whatever, "Damon says, still bothered, "he'd better learn fast,"

"I think we should take him home, let him sleep it off," Stefan says, trying to focus on the problem at hand.

"Yeah, sure," Damon answers before looking at Constantine and pointing a finger at him. "You better not get into the wrong bed."

"Okay then, let's go," Bonnie says, but Damon just cups her cheek and tells her, "Stay here. You have candles to blow [out] and gifts to unwrap. Stefan and I will dump his angelic ass at your place and be back soon," then he looks at Matts and speaks again, "You two go back and have fun. The fraternal kind. We're going to sneak off from the back door.

Damon kisses Bonnie again, just because he can – it's great motivation – and reminds her, "Be good, consider yourself reserved."

"Not really," Constantine slurs.

"What?" Damon asks, turning towards the guy.

Constantine looks up at him and tries to concentrate on his question. What did he say again? Oh, yes. "She's not reserved to you," he says, shaking his head, "At least you were not last time I checked. She was not reserved to you in her previous fate," he explains, "You would not be together right now if she had not died."

"You've been misinformed," Damon says, gritting his teeth, "We had biblical knowledge of each other."

"Because she deviated from her path in order to help her friends," Constantine nods slowly, the motion makes him a bit sick, "But you only knew you loved her because she wasn't there anymore. Otherwise things would be different."

"Well, you said yourself that her fate now is going to be different," he growls, "I am going to be her fate now."

Constantine looks up at him with his big, blue eyes, innocently replying, "You're writing yourself into it," unintentionally making him relax for a moment, just one, before adding "And this is why you're going to tear it apart too."

#

**Note: ** Thanks to _Syeira Lei _for her beta service. The songs used/mentioned in this chapter are "Hey Na Na" by Katie Herzig and "Me without you" by Sam Tsui.

I really cannot update with the same speed I used with _Dormiente_, so please be patient.


	7. Chapter 7

"He probably just means that changing this part of my destiny has made you tear apart the first draft," Bonnie says, holding his face with her hands to make him look at her, before he can effectively bite off the guardian's head.

"Is that what you meant?" Damon asks, turning his eyes on Constantine, who looks very concentrated on keeping his head up.

"I don't know what I meant," he says, dragging the words, "They are very cryptic. They're obviously all women," he says, like everything just suddenly made sense.

"See?" Bonnie says, with a shrug, "He's like a child right now. A drunk one, and he barely knows what's what."

It is hard to contradict her when her eyes are so warm and affectionate and see only him. He just wants to stay like this, feel her hands on his face, forget stupid things like destiny and death and just _live her, _without fear or shame. Without restrains.

"Okay," he surrenders, "You have me," Damon says. He really wants to believe that he can be her destiny, that he can keep her, at least forever. Maybe, he thinks, this is love, when you lie to each other and you believe your own lies in order to still time, to stop the world from tearing you apart.

"Do I?" Bonnie asks back, flirting with him. Shining eyes dancing.

"Absolutely, so I hope that being thankful for this honor you'll use me well and good," he murmurs, brushing the tip of his nose with hers and then winking at her. It is convenient that he has no real need for oxygen, for this turmoil of emotions, all the ups and downs of this barely blooming relationship - and most of all Bonnie with her scolding, oh so promising mouth, and liquid green eyes – makes it hard to breath properly.

"Do you have any idea what I should be using you for?" she asks, a wicked grin gracing her full lips.

"Oh, songbird-"

"Far be it from me to break the moment and stop being the embarrassed third wheel, because that's _obviously_ on top of my to-do list," Stefan says, sarcastically, as Elena walks out of the room to stop a giggling girl from coming in, "but we should go," he reminds his brother. Damon turns his head towards him and then goes back to kiss Bonnie. A deep kiss that has Stefan shaking his head.

"At some point," Stefan mumbles to himself. His brother is so petty sometimes, but he's not going to complain. At least he's happy, that's something he doesn't remember him being in such a long time, maybe ever, and a happy Damon is less of a pain in the ass than usual.

It's Bonnie who breaks the kiss, smiling up at him. Her eyes so luminous that Damon thinks she could blind someone. Well, him for sure.

She links her arm with Matt's, keeping her eyes on him, to demand that he "Go and come back immediately."

"Yes, ma'am."

#

The windows of the car are down. Stefan thinks his brother needs to cool down, and Constantine, in the back seat of Damon's Camaro, could use some fresh air.

"You don't have to worry," the younger Salvatore casually comments, as he keeps his arm out the window of the car.

Damon holds the wheel tighter, keeping his eyes on the road, "I'm not," he says, almost daring him to contradict him. He looks the guardian from the rear-view mirror and speeds up, wanting to go back to Bonnie as soon as possible. The forty-hours boy, four-hundred years guardian grimaces and he grins, until he realize he's becoming rapidly pale and his lips twitch - while he is inside of his precious car.

"Don't you dare throw up in my car!" he says, braking so suddenly that the boy is pushed forward, hitting his shoulders on the back of his and Stefan's seat, and then falling back on the leather of his seat.

"I'm sure you braking like that will really convince him to not vomit in here," Stefan says sarcastically, getting out of the car and helping Constantine out just in time. The guardian stumbles toward someone's garden, falls on his knees, emptying his stomach on the grass. The muscles of his stomach spasm, having him trembling on the ground and he is shocked by the violence of this unexpected event.

"Well done," Stefan says, looking at his brother as he hears the last remaining of Constantine's being expelled.

"Don't look at me," Damon says, grimacing, "tell Tyler. If Caroline hasn't killed him yet."

"Maybe this is why the grass is always greener on the other side?" Damon asks, amused.

Stefan grins but doesn't reply, just helps Constantine up to ask him if he's alright and walks him back to the car.

"Head outside the window," Damon warns the guardian, before walking around the car to get into the driver seat. "If a truck passes by and tries to decapitate you, you can pull it in," he concedes, "But I'd like you not to."

#

Damon stops the engine and turns to look at Stefan, "You do the honors," he says, annoyed that they have to take care of the one thing he'd do anything to get rid of, and maybe even a possible suitor for his girlfriend. "Just don't read him the goodnight story because I don't wanna get old".

"I don't think that's a fear you should have," Stefan replies getting out of the car once again.

Damon is conscious of the fact that Constantine is the messenger in the situation, but he is a very convenient object of his discontent. He's hatefully easy on the eyes, a shining example of honor and duty and freaking unnerving innocence, and he will be around Bonnie all day long, and night – he really can't forget nights - and he will become comfortable in his body sooner or later. His usual luck, really. Really, what are the odds that the guy will become ugly and hateful overnight?

Stefan must carry their new friend by the shoulder, walking around Bonnie's house in the dark. He finds the guest bedroom on his second try, after making the first stop into Bonnie's bedroom – it smells faintly like her, but at the bottom of her honey scent lay something that's Damon's.

"Here," he says, stepping inside the room as Constantine's feet follow with lazy rhythm, "Your bed."

"I have a bed," the guardian says slowly looking around the room as Stefan turns on the lamp on the nightstand. "I never had things before," he says, pulling at the fabric of his the shirt he's wearing and that he remember buying with the girls. That's another thing, yet, that belongs to him.

Stefan looks at him patiently, crossing his arms on his chest as he towers over the bewildered guardian. "Yes," he confirms, "you have a bed. And tomorrow you'll have a hangover."

"I will not like it, will I?" he asks, rummaging through information piled up in his brain, confused by the alcohol.

"Not in the least," Stefan replies shaking his head. "Now you need to sleep. Tomorrow morning, remember to drink lots of water, orange juice and eat proteins."

Constantine replies with a sound from the back of his throat and Stefan moves to leave, but as he stands at the doorway he comes back to ask him.

"How do you know Damon wasn't meant to be her destiny?"

"They told me. I saw it. They weren't going to be together because he didn't care."

Stefan grins down at the boy, "He did," he corrects him.

"Maybe then, he just didn't want to know that he did," the guardian offers, trusting Stefan's judgment. The vampire nods, acknowledging the reality of the previous situation.

"What did you mean with my brother tearing her destiny apart?"

"I really don't know," he replies sleepy. "When I slept last night they spoke to me, reminded me of my duty, showed me stuff, but there's only so much they tell me. There are things I'm not supposed to know either," he explains him, almost apologetically.

Constantine's eyelids are heavy, Stefan can see him trying to fight sleep to answer his questions, placate his doubts, but watching him lying there in his _first_ bed, in the second day of his life, he realizes that there's too much on this boy's shoulders, and too little is allowed to him, yet he can't help but press him again.

"If my brother was not the one, then who was?" In his mind he thinks of Jeremy and his desire always alive under ashes and doubts.

"No one you know," the boy mumbles falling into sleep, "Doesn't matter anymore."

#

Damon is visibly irritated when he gets out of the car from the passenger seat.

"This is the first and last time that you drive my baby. Try and keep it in mind," he almost roars as Stefan grins with satisfaction at his discomfort.

"Are you scared that your baby will love me more?" he asks back, poking his sore spot. Damon has been a brat the whole night, and for how sympathetic he can be, Stefan knows that he must put a stop to his dramatic mood or the night will be a failure.

"I don't have time to bury your corpse tonight, so shut up!"

"I told you to slow down but you didn't listen. You should be thankful that Liz let me drive or you would still be strolling around amiably under the moonlight with your beloved brother instead of being here with Bonnie," he says as they enter the house.

"Thanks for the mental picture. Now I feel like throwing up, too." He looks around to find Bonnie dancing with Matt. She looks amazing, and she's doing what she should, having fun with her human friend, with a handsome boy with a good fair catch and gentlemanly behavior. The kind of boy who will be loyal and present and give her flowers and a white picket fence. That boy would probably leave her for her own good. Damon is not that boy.

When she turns, feeling his eyes on her, he walks through the crowd and she does the same so that they can kiss, again, as soon as possible.

"Did you behave?" she asks him, looking up at him with her palms on his chest.

"Of course not." He dips in for another kiss.

"Why don't we go back to our private party?" he murmurs against her earlobe, tickling her and having her squirming in his arms.

"We can't, I'm the birthday girl. I can't be away too long. It would be rude. What would people think?"

"That your boyfriend is doing something to you that can now be considered totally legal?"

Before she can answer him the lights go out and the glow from the birthday cake gets closer to her. Caroline and Elena hold it up, distracting her. Damon stands behind her as she blows the candles out and shuts her eyes tight, making her wish. For a moment he wonders what he will do if it come to this in the end, if he's left behind as her life and beauty shines in front of him, unreachable.

Bonnie smiles, thanking her friends, and as she hugs them throwing one arm around them the other one reaches back, and as he watches her fingers wrapping around his own the torment stops.

#

Her heels are abandoned on the floor of the car and she stretches her legs and toes as best as she can in the restricted space of Damon's Camaro.

His white hand is on the handbrake and he turns his head as he drives to look at her, tell her, "Give me a kiss." His shameless grin and the intensity of his eyes in the semi-darkness of cockpit makes her bite the inside of her mouth, but she doesn't give in. "Look at the road," she tells him, cupping his cheek with one hand and turning his head.

Damon turns his head again, grin once again in place. "Give me a kiss," he tells her again, simply, and she knows he will do this the whole night if she doesn't oblige. Bonnie rolls her eyes and moves fast to press a kiss against his lips before turning his face again.

"That's all?" he asks, making a show of his dissatisfaction, "I'm really disappointed, you're-"

"Shut up, Damon," she murmurs against his ear before kissing the curve of his neck, tracing the skin with lips and tongue and teeth, letting one hand travel on his chest above the buttoned shirt. He keeps the wheel with the left hand and moves his arm so that he can hold her against his side. Damon can feel her breast pressed against his rib cage and the light reverberating of her heartbeat through him.

_I never thought I'd fall so far down  
This incredibly long dark hole  
_

"Careful," she says, taking a peak at the road, before closing her lips around his earlobe. What if he needs to pull at the brake? If only she could care enough right now.

"I should be the one saying that," he says, adjusting on his seat. She can light him up fast, like straw, and he likes it.

Bonnie giggles against his skin and he manages to hold the base of her neck to trap her when he turns his head and kisses her hard. His tongue enters her mouth with no gentleness and she cannot breathe until he releases her and goes back to paying attention to the road. She gives a light slap against his shoulder before using it to rest her head, holding him like this even though the position is uncomfortable.

When he parks in front of her house she doesn't move and he turns slightly to hold her against him and kiss the top of her head. The hem of her dress has traveled up at her mid-thigh and the sight of her naked, caramel skin makes his mouth water.

Taking her inside his car would be quite vintage, he supposes, nothing bad in that. A whole generation did that, and the thrill offered by a semi-public place can be titillating for some, but he wants to be careful with her.

"Are you tired?" he asks, caressing one naked shoulder with his open hand, applying a light pressure on her muscles.

She moans through her answer, "A bit."

"Then, I'm taking you to bed," he says, his voice hoarser that he meant. When he realizes how this sounds it is too late.

It startles her. She tilts up her head, and he can feel the beating of her heart as it quickens. He should be considerate now, grin at her, throw an innuendo, probe the situation, make sure of what it is that she expects from him now, what it is that she wants from him now, but her mouth is a breath away and it looks made for sin. It's just a moment, just the pull of her. She tilts up her head, their eyes meet and so do their mouths, so do their tongues.

She has to push him away because he doesn't remember to let her breathe. He stares at her in confusion before he can reassure himself and show her his playful grin.

_Something so sweet as the sound of your feet  
On the floor would give me more room to breath_

"Come on," he says, covering one of her hands still pressed against his chest, "Good girls should be in bed by now." He gets out of the car and walks to her door to open it. Damon offers her his hand and pulls as soon as he can wrap his fingers around hers. He makes her spin in front of him and the hem of her white dress dances around her. Her smile radiates bliss.

It is new and thrilling to him to be able to raise this kind of feeling, so untainted, so clear, when all his blind dedication could ever be rewarded with was always a guilty passion, a dirty emotion. He knows himself. He knows his hunger for her, and sometimes it's bigger than he is.

Bonnie giggles holding her purse in one hand, walking around him like she's the hunter and he's the prey, smiling brightly before turning her back and walking to the door. He grins as he follows her silently, obediently.

He walks behind her, like a sailor following the siren, close enough to smell the cherry scent of her shampoo and yet not close enough to touch her. Bonnie can feel his presence behind her, his proximity tantalizing her skin as she walks through the living room, up on the stairs, through the corridor that bring them to her bedroom. She's so nervous she can hear her own heartbeat in her ears and when she walks into her room and turns around to face him her breath catches in her throat. His perfect grin in place, toned down by the light in his blue, blue eyes. White and sharp teeth hidden under his pink lips. Her lovable shark.

_I'll say goodbye again tonight  
The third time's the charmer they say_

"I have something for you," he says. His eyes shine with a malicious sparkle. He pulls her hand to his jeans, and her eyes bulge as her palm hits something hard. Bonnie grips her fingers around the box trapped inside his pocket, releasing the breath she didn't realize she was holding.

His chuckle makes her want to strangle him with her own hands, the asshole!

"Did you think I was such a bad boyfriend that I'd forget to buy you a gift?"

She breathes in, annoyed, and opens her mouth to answer but he stops her with a gesture of his hand. "That's fine. I'm going to surprise you."

She shrugs with a bored expression on her face. Her pouting mouth distracts him for a moment and he doesn't see her rolling her eyes. "I don't see anything surprising in giving jewelry to a girl. Not very original, but I can fake it if you'd like."

"You're too kind," he says, with a condescend tone. "I'll make sure there's nothing else you need to fake for my sake," he adds in a murmur bending forward to speak against her mouth.

"Now," he says, taking the box from his pocket and throwing it in the air to catch it in his fist, "Your gift," and he opens the box as he fixes his eyes into hers. Bonnie lowers her gaze slowly, her smile a challenge he's willing to take on, and he watches her expression falter and freeze.

She looks shocked, but not in the way he was aiming for. Bonnie holds her hand together bending keeping her eyes on the ring.

_Your words are inked on my skin  
The marks of incredible love  
_

"Bird?" he asks.

He looks down at the ring and then her, "I'm getting old here."

"Well, I am surprised," she says, trying her best to smile at him. Her face refuses to work properly.

She looks down again at the white gold symbol on the lapis lazuli stone with a _D_ in the middle. The same one he's wearing even now. The idea to wear a ring like his strikes her as him marking her as his own, and even if she's trying really hard to not like the idea, to be her independent self, she can't wait to wear it. This is what shakes her to the core, what makes her pick the ring slowly from the box.

_Incredible love, you fill me  
Incredible love, you spill me  
Incredible love, you kill me  
Incredible love_

Bonnie wears it, looks at it on her hand. She thinks people will see it from miles away. The idea is almost arousing.

It's too much, too soon and this is scary but, at the same time, this is only right. Suddenly this is all she wants.

Bonnie stands, tiptoes to press her mouth against Damon's. He's stunned for a moment, and he holds her by the waist to ask her, "So, you don't… hate it?"

"Oh, you know," she says with a smile, "It's quite vintage, just my style and it goes with everything."

"That's exactly what I was thinking when I had it done it for you," he jokes.

"Was it really?" she asks, biting the inside of her mouth.

Like an insecure little girl she just wants for him to say that he had it made for her because she belongs to him and that's that, and everyone should know, and _she_ should know that there will be no one else for him and she needs to get used to it. She wants him to say the things balled up in the middle of her throat. The things she can't say herself. The things they hide so well behind innuendos and bone-melting kisses.

A noise and a thud break the moment and she remembers Constantine in the guest room. Bonnie moves to go to the door but Damon puts himself in front of her to stop her.

"Don't," he says. His eyes suddenly made of stone, his jaw set.

Her generosity can be hateful sometimes, especially when he's laying his heart at her feet, offering her a token of his intentions and she goes pale and trembling, and can't wait to leave him there like an idiot…alone, waiting for her fate to catch up to him, even if he's doing his damn best to not think of that, to convince himself that things will go his way for one fucking time in his life.

_Everything says it's time to go  
But the smell of your skin makes me stay_

"I just want to check on him," she tells him, moving again. He doesn't move an inch and she raises her eyes on him.

"This is stupid," she says, trying to offer him a smile, but his expression doesn't change.

"Maybe," he admits, "Have you met me?"

"Damon, listen-"

"No," he says, cutting her – probably – perfectly reasonable explanation for wanting to run to the guardian's side. "I can assure you he's hardly dead. But if you leave this room, then we're done."

"What?" she asks, stunned.

He wants to punch himself for what he just said and he grimaces, shutting his eyes for a short moment.

"Would it be that easy for you?" she asks, fearing his answer. Her rational mind tells her that this is just the heat of the moment, that Damon can easily tell the things he doesn't mean while it takes him age to say what he really thinks, and yet her heart starts beating faster. It's enraging to think that she could be so easy to break, to leave; to think that he is actually able to blackmail her into doing what he wants.

"Is this a threat?" She can feel her own anger mount before he opens his eyes, making it all fade away.

His voice is very soft when he tells her, "Don't go," and she knows this is something else. He holds her gently by the shoulders, brushes his palms on her arms and doesn't look her in the eyes, as he repeats, "Don't."

_You are not mine to ask things of  
But I ask you anyway, but I ask you anyway_

It is unsettling, all their vulnerability coming to the surface. She thinks that if they touch each other now they will make a cut so deep they will bleed to death, so she's careful in holding him, in kissing him. It is very slowly that she lets her body fit against his. Every muscle she finds and touches is hard and tense.

"I'm not going," she murmurs, "We're okay," she adds "aren't we?"

_Incredible love, you fill me  
Incredible love, you spill me_

_Incredible love, you kill me_

He relaxes against her and holds her and kisses her forehead, and it is atrociously tender between them. He turns the lamp off and goes back to direct his attention on her; he brushes his fingertips on her face, along her jaw, her neck, her arms and as she yearns under his light touches, as she dies for the short distance between their mouths, she wishes she could see his face in the dark. She wishes she could see his eyes right now, read his feelings where his iris ripples around his pupils.

_You take it away but then you give it right back  
Just take it away don't give it back_

She gives up on her control, letting him trace her body the way he wants to, but when he calls her _little bird_ and doesn't do much else but hold her against him on her bed, inhaling her scent as he buries his face in the crook of her neck, her heart sinks a bit.

_Don't give it back, don't give it back, don't give it back_

_Don't give it right back_

_#_

**Note: **The song I used in this chapter is "Incredible love" by Ingrid Michaelson.

**Note 2:** I know some of you are disappointed by the fact that Damon and Bonnie didn't have sex yet, but they've been together only a bit more than a week and she did ask in the finale of _Dormiente_ to go slow and I think it's only fair. I'd like for sex to be meaningful between them. Plus, I'm sure you want to read yourself their first time, if and when it's going to happen.


	8. Chapter 8

Note: This chapter is dedicated to _roglam / roplusglam_. You'll realize in the end of this chapter that I kind of cheated with my last note, because I didn't want to give too much away. The songs I used are "High" by Sarah Slean and "Crush" by Garbage. I hope you enjoy.

#

When she opens her eyes and turns to look at Damon she finds her bed empty. Her hand slips on the sheets and the scent of him coming from the pillow is the only trace of his presence that night.

She's still wearing her white dress but she's tucked under a spare blanket she usually keeps in the closet. She chooses to concentrate on this detail instead of letting her thoughts be crushed with his absence, she doesn't want to think of the steel of his arms as he both trapped her against him and prevented her from making a move to change the stillness of the night.

She rubs her face with her palms arching on the bed, trying to ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach. She stands to get some clothes and heads to the shower but when she looks at herself in the mirror she can't help but hate the empty space next to her. She puts down her clothes, picks up her cellphone and dials his number.

It's not diminishing to make the first step. She's always expecting him to, but they are equals in this relationship. When she calls, it's his voicemail that greets her and she tries to not feel hurt.

"You know, waking up alone, with the bad boy vanished into thin air, is such an overused cliché," she says, keeping her tone light, but then her fake smile falls and she sighs. "Why aren't you here, Damon?" she asks, trying to keep her voice from breaking. She's not the clingy type, but right now it feels just wrong to be without him. "Are you mad?" She's confused. "I-" she sighs, unable to find the words, unable to understand what's happening to them, because as soon as they seem to have found a balance they lose it. "I didn't like waking up without you," she admits, hanging up.

Under the shower she scrubs her skin, washes her hair, hoping that the water jet will clean up her mind, and she will find a solution to a problem she's unable to read. As she dresses up she hears a sound coming from the hallway and she runs before she can even form the thought to.

"Damon!" But it's not him. Constantine is rubbing his head, his hair spiked up in his sleep and he looks pale and groggy.

"It seems like my brain gets repeatedly hit by your volume, so I would really appreciate if you could keep it down," he says, his eyes tight like his own voice is a pain for him.

"Hangover, huh?" she asks, in a soft voice, trying to hide the disappointment and smiling to his endearing hazed condition.

"Stefan said I wouldn't like it. But I think I actually hate it." His voice almost whiny. "This is my first time hating something."

"Well, congratulations," she offers with a doubtful expression. "You'll find some juice in the fridge. I'll come down to make you a sandwich as soon as I've dried my hair".

"Thanks," he replies, clearly unhappy about his new discovery in the human department.

When she returns to her room, letting the door close behind her she stops, seeing Damon sitting at the foot of her bed, his legs crossed. He stares at her for a long moment before offering a grin.

_I always wonder why your eyes are closed  
Don't you want to see me closing mine?  
_

"Like I can ever stay mad at you," he says, and she thinks his cross smile is the most beautiful thing she's seen in a while. "I wanted to let you sleep in peace."

"You were so tense tonight," she says, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"And what do you plan to do to relieve all my tension?"

_Heaven help me, I'll devour him.  
See me drawing out his spine._

"Oh," she answers, "I have a few ideas I'm sure you'll approve of," but when she dips her head to kiss him he stops her, holding her by the chin.

"Go dry your hair before you catch a cold. I'll be waiting for you downstairs."

Her smile drops for a moment and she nods at his suggestion to go in her bathroom and do as she told him. It's sweet of him to think of her wellbeing, she tells herself. It doesn't really mean anything the fact that he didn't even bother to kiss her. He ran to her as soon as she called him, this means something, she thinks as she dries her hair.

And yet, all his innuendos, all his flattering resolved into nothing once again. It's not like she is in a rush. They've only been together for ten days, so it's not exactly urgent to take the next step in their relationship, and yet she feels him slipping away. Her eyes moisten as the idea catches up with her.

_You're afraid of what I'll do to you  
Recall the taste of something sweet_

Later, Bonnie sees him immobile on the stool next to the kitchen table as Caroline browses through the color samples for the walls of Constantine's room.

"We'll have so much fun!" she assures the guardian making him flinch because of her loud voice, "Sorry."

He managed to make himself a sandwich and is eating it slowly to let his stomach adjust.

"Morning," Caroline gives her a bright smile but only gets a halfhearted one as Bonnie turns her eyes to look at Damon.

The blonde vampire raises her eyebrows sensing a storm coming and busies herself with the wallpaper samples. The air is so charged with electricity that she's thankful she for not having any real need to breathe.

Bonnie takes a sip of her juice, puts down her glass and looks at Damon across the table, straight in the eyes.

_Between a thousand sheets of memory  
I cannot be blamed because you're weak._

"I think I'm done," she says trying to not sound weak. He stares at her, a nerve under his jaw pulls violently.

"You didn't even touch your breakfast," Caroline tells her, blinking.

"I'm not talking about breakfast," she says, not moving her eyes from Damon.

"Okay," Caroline whispers to herself, "I think we should really go now," she tells Constantine pulling him by the arm. He doesn't protest just to not feel his brain pulsing again against his skull, but considering his actual company he's not counting on a painless day.

"It seems like you're the one who's mad now," he considers, cautiously, once he heard the front door close.

"Can you blame me?" she asks, exasperated. "I don't know what's happening."

"Nothing is happening," he says, trying his best to stay calm. But the more impassive he is the more she feels like screaming.

"Yes, nothing. Because you can't kiss me, or touch me without pulling away!"

"What?" he bursts, getting up from his stool. "You haven't been paying attention, _sweetheart_," he hisses the nickname like a snake ready to attack and it's oddly comforting to her. This is the Damon she knows, this is _her_ Damon.

"And if that's really the problem, I can kiss you until your jaw is sore and your mouth bleeds," his hard eyes tell her that he might just do that. She's not against the idea.

"Can you?" she asks, "because I feel like you're only waiting around for me to end it between us."

_Hey boy, come sleep.  
I will turn the ocean into sky  
How do you keep when the love is making you high?  
Outta sight, outta mind, high_

"That's right!" he admits, "I am!" His fangs itch under his gums, and her eyes become wide. He's like any other man, she thinks bitterly, waiting for someone else to drop the ax and take the blame for their failure.

"I'm waiting for you to wake up one day and decide that it's not worth the risk, that I'm not worth it, that I'm not the one you really want!" he explodes, "Because I want you, and I don't want to take it slow, and I don't want to wait, and I don't want to be patient with people dancing around you!" he confesses, swallowing his shame. "I'm fucking scared, okay?"

She's breathing hard, like part of her is running to him already. She thinks her soul wants to leave her body to enter his.

"Do you think you're the only one?" Her eyes water and she feels all the pain and the fear becoming a bitter spasm that radiates in her muscles and disappear slowly. "Do you think I'm not scared to lose this? _Us_?"

"Are you?" he asks, guarded.

"I'm not made of stone!" she exclaims, "I'm made of flesh and bones and whenever you pull away I think you don't really want me and I feel so rejected, so stupid." She cannot breathe properly and a tear rolls down her cheek. Damon cups her face with both hands, "And I think…. I think, what if I'm not the one he wants? What if he loves… _her_ still?"

"You _are_ stupid if you think I don't want you with everything I've got," he murmurs pressing his forehead against hers, "but every time I touch you I can smell fear on you and I can't stand it." he explains.

She looks at him confused realizing what went through his mind every time things got heated between them. "I'm not scared of you," she says in a relived breath, "I'm scared of the things I want. I'm just… _overwhelmed_ with the need to be… close to you."

He dips his head to kiss her but she pulls back, staring up at him. "Damon," she says, swallowing every hesitation, remembering his eyes as he drank from her hand, the way he touched her when they danced together, the new first kiss that fueled a chain of dreams and the realization that he was already nested into her mind, and deeper into her heart. "I think I love you."

The way he kisses makes her think he wants to eat both her and the words she just uttered, like only a shark could, but she really doesn't care to know. She only cares about the way his arms are tightly closed around her, about the way his mouth is pressed against hers, keeping it open to explore the inside with his tongue.

"I love you more, but that's okay," he decides, speaking against her mouth.

When his mouth descends on hers again she feels dizzy and there's a shiver going down her spine. It's only when she opens her eyes that she realizes that that happened because he moved them both to her bedroom.

"I thought you would be more comfortable here," he says, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers as she looks around herself.

"How thoughtful of you," she says, with a sarcastic hint in her voice.

"Is this my cue to go away and tend to my needs in a more old-fashioned way?" he asks, touching her lips with his fingertips. Oh, her mouth, it's so soft, so beautiful, he thinks; even more so when she purses her lips together to kiss his hand, the way she's doing right now, sending a rush of blood from his head straight to his southern region.

"I know I said I don't want to wait but I can. I swear to you that I can, and if you want me-".

"No," she just says, cutting off his words. Her voice low, her smile soft. He knows that smile, that's her _I-made-my-decision-and-you-can't-stop-me-_smile. That's his favorite.

_I would die for you  
I would die for you  
I've been dying just to feel you by my side  
To know that you're mine_

"I don't think I ever liked the sound of this word more, especially coming from you," he says, cupping her face with both hands, to kiss her again.

"Let's try again," he says between kisses. "Do you want me to go?"

"No," she says.

"Do you want to be without me?"

"No," she repeats.

When they stop kissing, because she needs to breathe, he takes off his shirt letting it fall at their feet. She puts her hands on his chest, raising tiptoes to reach his mouth, and at a new stroke of his tongue she lets them slide down to open the button of his jeans.

"Do you want to stop?" he asks, but this time she doesn't say anything.

She feels his hardening member come out from the confines of his pants and touch the back of her hand when she tugs the fabric down. Her breath breaks in her throat and when he pulls his head back she just stares at him. This is getting more and more real by the second and a little part of her would like to run away.

She did it, she took the initiative in this and he's immobile now, just _letting _her. Letting her think about the next move, about retreating or moving on. His blue eyes bore into her, show a storm of emotions and questions and she takes it in her hands to clarify the matter. _Literally._

Damon's tongue moves inside his mouth, like he's tasting her touch, and she looks down to see her hand wrapped around his member. With a few, light strokes it grows in her hand and her fingertips don't meet. His arms raises and his palms go flat on the wall, on both sides of her head, only it's not him who has her trapped, it's the other way around. She knows it from the look he gives her. Her heart is beating so hard that she's sure he can hear it.

Bonnie tries to suppress the smile coming to her lips and moves her hands so that the stroke is light and tortuous, like she's experimenting with his body. Damon's hips move forward as he lets out a hard breath.

"Sorry?" he guesses with a grin, as she looks up to him, stilling his movements.

_I will burn for you  
Feel pain for you  
I will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart  
And tear it apart_

"That's okay," she says, and they both look down again, where their skin meets. Damon moves again, trusting his hips forward once, then twice, stroking himself against her hands.

When a few strokes later he stops she's can't help looking disappointed. "Why did you stop?" she whimpers, her voice so affected that it sounds alien even to her as he throbs against her palms. Her own skin is tingling from desire. Her body pulses with heightened sensations and she is so lost on the feeling of him that she forgot there's a better part that to come. Bonnie remembers that when he takes her mouth for a rough kiss and covers her hands with his.

"Oh, I stopped nothing," he says against her lips before descending along the curve of her neck. His mouth sucks on the right spot and she lets herself fall back against the wall, holding his head with both hands. He takes off her shirt, pulls down her jeans, and kneels before her to help her take them off. When he's done he stays on his knees, looking up. "I'll have to do some proper worshipping," he promises, "later." His eyes gaze into hers as he kisses her navel and the skin above the hem of her underwear.

Bonnie bends, titling up his head to kiss him again. She thinks they will not do much, despite their actual state of undress, because the thought of his lips always makes her want to kiss him. Just as their tongues touch, his fingers manage to slip between her legs and her knees go weak. She falls forward, on top of him, and she giggles holding on to his neck. "Sorry," she says, as he hits the floor of her bedroom with his back, cushioning her fall.

Before Bonnie, before sex was anything remotely intimate, this would have threatened to ruin his mood. Sex was about demonstrating his power, his skills, to find relief to the tension, to fight all the regrets and resentment inside of him, and there was no space to smile and play, but now sex is about having her happy and carefree; and yes, about having her naked and panting above him, obviously. He can be fucking head over heels, but he's not a saint.

He playfully slaps her bottom telling her to "Get on the bed," and then follows her after taking off the remaining of his clothes.

Damon kneels on the bed, mirroring her position, reaching behind her back to take off her bra as he gently kisses her shoulder. He cups one breast, then the other, and looking up into her eyes he bends, and starts flicking his tongue over her nipples. The smug look on his face bothers her slightly – what an ass! - and she would like to slap that expression off his face - well, not so much - there's something she wants way more.

"Damon," she moans his name, immersing her fingers into his black hair, and he kisses her breast with his open mouth, sucking gently on it. Holding her to him so as to not let her squirm away at the first touch of his fingers. He slips his hand into her panties and she lets her knees fall sideways on the sheets, opening her legs to him.

It is so freeing to trust someone so completely, to share every cell of her body, every thought in her head with him, knowing he'll take care of it. It's a strange, sweetly sick circle where the more he takes, the more she wants to give and vice versa.

Damon's mouth and fingers working on her make every muscle of her body awaken to take part to this newfound _burning_. She pulls him up for a kiss and then Bonnie hides her face in the crook of his neck as she moans louder than she wants to. She just can't stop the sounds from coming out of her mouth, just like she can't stop her own body from having this hunger of him. And there's no shame in wanting this, in wanting _him_.

_I will lie for you  
Beg and steal for you  
I will crawl on hands and knees until you see  
You're just like me_

The sensation is wonderful but she realizes that she doesn't want to come without him inside of her. It's a primal thought and she knows that but she doesn't care. It's how she wants it to happen. It's how it's supposed to happen, where he's supposed to be. She won't have it any other way.

"Damon, please," she begs, her brain overloaded and yet perfectly lucid, "I really want you to-"

"What?" he asks, breathing hard, as she wraps her hand around his wrist to stop his skilled movements.

"I'm about to…" she can't say it. She's naked on her bed with a vampire's hand between her legs and she can't say the word.

"Come?" he finishes for her. "That was my dirty plan from the beginning," he jokes, smug.

"I don't want it to happen like this," she explains, meeting his eyes, "I want…"

"Yes," his voice is strained but his eyes are careful. He really wants to give her what she wants, to please her.

"I want it to happen because of you," she says, counting the seconds that it takes for the notion to reach his brain, and for him to understand what she means. She'll do better next time, she promises herself, she will be bolder, but right now what she really wants is just him inside of her.

He presses a kiss against her lips, sitting on his heels and pulling her towards him.

"Here," he says, with a husky voice. "Sit on my lap." She does as he tells her, sitting on his lap with her legs on either side of his body, sliding slowly onto him.

"Is this what you wanted?" Damon asks, with a strained voice, like he's about to break, and her only response is a bone-deep shudder as he fills her inch by inch.

She must close her eyes to take in the sensation of him invading her body in such a way. Her hands grip his shoulders as she feels the pain cutting her in two, and she can't help but cry out.

He murmurs against her ear sweet nothings, he whispers _shhh _and _it's nothing_ and _give it a moment, _kissing her cheek, her shoulder, her cleavage, soothing her pain and eliciting her pleasure. When he feels her relaxing in his arms he moves to sit cross legged, caressing her legs to encourage her to wrap them around him.

Cupping her bottom with his hands he moves her on him, bringing her up and letting her sink back on his erection, as he caresses her breast with his mouth. Her turgid nipples, so dark, almost give his tongue the illusion that she tastes like chocolate. Just to make sure, he'll take the time later to taste very inch of her, every secret recess of her body.

Damon builds a slow rhythm to let her adjust to him, but once she starts squirming over him he picks a faster pace, moving her so that the penetration is harder. He moves again, managing to make her lay on her back without slipping completely out of her sex despite her wetness. In this new position, keeping her legs spread wide with his hands he can thrust into her, over and over, sliding in and out trying to forget about himself, with the sole purpose to make her come.

_Violate all the love that I'm missing  
Throw away all the pain that I'm living  
_

When her walls clutch him he slows down, stimulating her with his fingers, before picking up the pace again when she comes down from her high. He would like nothing else then to sate her body slowly and repeatedly but his own body is screaming for release and the only thing he can do as he runs after his own pleasure is keep on stimulating her, with both his member and his fingers, covering her body with his own as she wraps her legs around his torso and lets him have his way.

After his orgasm hits him he lays on top of her, inhaling her, hoping hard that his dead lungs will hold her smell for centuries to come.

_You will believe in me  
And I can never be ignored_

"Am I crushing you?" he asks, turning his head to meet her eyes.

"I like it," she admits, candidly, "Stay," she says.

He's still half hard inside of her and he's not going to slip out until he has no choice, so he kisses her again. It's slow and lazy, and yet they refuse to stop. Maybe the rest of their bodies can be sated for a moment, but not their mouths, never their mouths.

When minutes later Bonnie dozes off, too tired to keep her eyelids open, he continues brushing his lips against her cheek as he holds her side against his chest.

This time he can relish in their intimacy, this time he knows exactly what this means, what to expect once she opens her eyes again. This time it's okay if the rest of the world disappears when she's with him, because she's with him in every way that matters.

Her body is as his as his own and he can admire it, and touch it and adore it and give it pleasure. And he really loves to.

When she rolls on her stomach, in her sleep, he takes the opportunity to push the hair away from the back of her neck to plant a kiss. From there is a uninterrupted journey towards the south of her spine, giving attention to every rib, to that little mole in the valley of her back, to every inch of her mahogany skin, until his mouth finds the curve of her bottom and he gives it a wet kiss. Her muscles contract and she accuses him with a sleepy voice "Pervert."

His lips stretch against the skin of her ass but he doesn't say anything, and she protests weakly. "You're resorting to molesting girls in their sleep," she says, her sleepy voice taking a purring edge. He doesn't need any push. He's already hard, and he's been so for a while now.

Damon gives her bottom a light bite with his human teeth and she squirms, turning and trying to kick him away, but he wraps one hand about her ankle and pulls her to the foot of the bed, towards him, bending to tower over her and look at her in the eyes.

"What are you doing!" she says, hardly keeping her smile at bay.

"Nothing, _yet_," he answers.

His erection brushes against her stomach as he's kissing her and she breaks the kiss, feigning outrage, "I can't believe it! You are impossible!"

"It would have been wiser of you to pretend you were still asleep, songbird," he informs her. "Now I can't letyou out of this."

He always calls her _songbird_ when he wants to have his way with her. The look in his eyes is so soft and yet so committed that her stomach hurts.

"I guess I'll have to endure it, then," she sighs heavily, rolling her eyes, before smiling up to him. She's tired and sore but her body is already reacting to him. At the thought of being the lucky object of his ministrations her nipples harden and her body quivers. She can't wait to feel again like it's impossible to tell apart his body from hers.

Everything is new and thrilling and it's like a richer world just opened up to her. Bonnie closes her legs around his waist, feeling him teasing her sex.


	9. Chapter 9

She raises her arms until they lay on the sides of her head and looks up at him, her eyes smiling brightly. Her serene and so demure façade is a challenge he can't wait to take up.

"Sacrificing yourself to placate my insane craving," he comments dramatically, letting the tip of his member start making its way through her warm body. "Such a martyr you are." He grins slyly, stilling his movements. He's far from being inside her and yet she can feel him clearly where their body are connected, like the last ring of a chain.

"You know me, always noble and unselfish," she answers, trying her best to hide her trepidation of the moment, "A true generous heart."

"Oh, you're generous alright. Generous _everywhere_," he says, looking at her full breast on display and sliding more inside her, until he's halfway in. Bonnie trashes her head to the side, closing her eyes and gasping for breath.

"Yes," she purrs, wetting her lips.

"I shouldn't take advantage of you," he reflects, his tone almost contemplative, as she looks up at him. "Maybe I should just stop abusing you this way before I burn in hell."

Oh, he's having fun.

Bonnie bites her lower lip. Her breast rises and falls as she desperately thinks of something to say to make him finally fill her, instead of slipping out of her as he's slowly doing. She's doesn't know about hell, but she's the one that's burning right now.

"Yeah, but you're the bad guy, remember?" Her voice threatens to break with the tension that's amassing on her nerves. He stops his retreating.

"I'm very bad," he nods, sliding in her a bit more than he did before.

"_Very_," she sighs at the feeling, hoping he'd just hurry up.

"And you're going to endure whatever I do to you," he says, his voice starting to be affected as her warm wetness welcomes him. The scent of their previous joining is returning to his nostrils, stronger, and it makes him want to sink into her faster.

"I am," she says, with a stressed voice, "I am." She bites her lip harder and nods almost frantically.

"You're going to endure it and suffer in silence, aren't you?" he asks, finally sliding all the way into her. Filling her body until there's not space he did not occupy, until she can't breathe nor tell where he ends and she begins.

"Damon… ah…" Despite his question and the teasingly demure attitude she showed, it's not with silence that she rewards his entering.

"Maybe not so much in silence, after all," he jokes, though his face shows the effort to control himself.

And the only suffering on her face comes from his slow movements.

Bonnie moans loudly, against her will, so much that she tries to cover her mouth with her hand to suffocate the sound, but the weak attempt at silence doesn't last more than a few moments, for sex – she discovers – can be as intense and romantic as it can be primal.

"Yes, Damon… more…" Bonnie follows her instinct, her craving, his rhythm and when he slips her legs onto his shoulders, leaning onto his knees, changing the angle of his penetration, the pace of his now fast thrusting, she feels some primeval, forgotten part of her resurfacing together with the perspiration on her caramel skin, through the green of her liquid, concupiscent eyes. And she holds his gaze.

"Bonnie…" Damon's voice is a desperate plea.

He drives hard into her. She drives him faster into madness.

#

Her body feels boneless as he continues thrusting into her. Bonnie can see the finely carved traits of his immutable face contorted in pleasure, feel the size of him though her whole being. Her body is coming down from another high and the uncoordinated thrust of his loins during his orgasm is a thrill for her as much as her own. She loves to see him like this.

When he falls next to her, she can barely turn her eyes on him. There's a smile on her face but she cannot move and she must focus all her energy on regaining her breath. She feels like she's been caught into a hurricane, pounded around and left lying in the eye of it where everything is still.

Damon kisses her shoulder and she moans from the back of her throat, appreciating the sweet gesture. Less than two minutes later, when exhaustion is making her doze off, she feels his palm on her breast, his thumb titillating her nipple. She whines, opening her mouth to speak but not her eyes.

"Damon."

"Yes?" He turns to hold her against him and she can feel his hardness pushing against her thigh.

"You must be kidding me," she giggles through her weariness.

"It's not my fault," he protests with a soft voice. "My body has wanted you so badly, for so long that now it won't listen to me."

He admires her white smile, her dreamy expression as she lays there with eyes closed, her curvy body naked to his gaze, and grins.

"My bad."

"Apology accepted."

"I'm really too tired," she says, turning on the side to rest her forehead against his chest.

"I know," he says, kissing the top of her head and interrupting his caress. She smells deliciously of sex and him, but he will control himself.

"But if you'll let me sleep, I think later I'll be happy to have your body wanting me very badly again." Her smile stretches against his skin as she hides her face into his chest and her hand reaches for his hardness.

"What do you say?" she asks, lazily stroking his member.

Damon breathes hard into her hair and his hips push forward, encouraging a new rhythm.

"I say that it's perfect," he answers, looking down at her tiny hand wrapped around his thickness. Her caramel fingers make such a stark contrast against the white skin of his sex and he's fascinated as he watches them moving up and down on his length.

"I'm glad you like it," she moves her head so that she can watch his face as he watches her hand. Her skin is hot from renewed desire. She can feel her body quivering though she's unable to have him again.

Damon looks up into her eyes, grinning wickedly through his panting. He dips his head to lick her lips and a groan escapes him when she picks up a faster pace. He reaches down for her hand and she must look down when she feels him covering her hand with his to help her adjust the pressure of her grip. Watching both their hands working his engorged member, she feels so powerful, so uninhibited. So aroused.

If only her body was not so oversensitive right now she would beg him to take her, hard and fast. Or any other way he likes. And she must bite her tongue to keep herself from asking him, because right now it would hurt too much, and yet it hurts to be without him, too.

"Oh, Bonnie," he pants her name above her ear and leaves her hand to slip his fingers between her legs. She moans at the sweet intrusion of one finger, and moves her leg to give him more space and encourage him to continue. A second finger is added, and she can't concentrate enough to keep the rhythm of her hand steady so that he must stroke himself against her fist. Bonnie can feel him pulsing against her fingers and palm.

The way he pumps his fingers into her is gentler than before and she's grateful for his thoughtfulness.

"Is that okay?" His voice is hoarse, his breath hot against her cheek. "Do you need me to go slower?"

Bonnie groans and shakes her head, but she realizes that in this position he can't be sure of what she means so she manages to speak and reassures him. "No, it's good. It's perfect."

A few strokes later she can feel him coming against her, and yet he's never distracted from her, never stops thinking about her pleasure, instead he kisses her neck and sucks on her pulse as his skilled fingers work in and out of her, never changing their pace. Bonnie rolls on her back, bending her knee so that she's spread before him. This time she comes in a quieter manner, gasping for air as he looks down into her eyes and her hands cup his face.

#

She falls asleep cradled in his arms and when she wakes her muscles complain for all the activity. She moans against his chest and Damon's response is to caress her spine to stir her muscles.

"How are you feeling?" he asks her, as her eyelashes flutter open.

"Sticky and disgusting," she answers with a frown. She is crouched up against him under the sheet, and one leg is wrapped around his. There's no barrier between them and she can feel their chests moving together.

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings, but you totally are," he pokes fun at her.

"Idiot," she mutters, rolling on the bed to get up from the other side, hiding her smile. She pulls the sheet from the bed to wrap it around her body, informing him "I'm going to take a shower." She throws a glance at Damon laying on the bed with his legs crossed at the ankles to stop him from following her. "_Alone._"

"Where's the fun in that?" he protests, rolling his eyes.

She sighs as he follows her into the bathroom, careful not to step on the sheet, which scrapes the floor like the train of a wedding dress.

Bonnie bends forward to open the faucet and sits on the edge of the tub waiting for it to fill. She watches as Damon moves closer and starts to brush her messed hair with his fingers, completely uncaring about the fact that he's naked. The tenderness of his fingertips makes every part of her ache for him in a way sex can't possibly satisfy.

"Can't you get dressed?" she asks. It's still so strange to be this open with each other, and she fears he will do something to successfully arouse her when her body is crying for some rest. Her heartbeat is already betraying her.

"Can't you get naked?" he asks back, bending to plant a kiss on her mouth.

"You're going to kill me," she laughs, shaking her head as she pours _m__onoï_bath pearlsinto the water. She can see their golden color shining on the bottom of tub, smell the _Tiaré_ flowers scent coming off the vapor as she basks in the afterglow, the delightful sensation of completeness that bloomed inside of her when she slept in Damon's arms.

When she raises her brilliant green eyes to him, the flicking worry in his has already passed. Holding his gaze she slips into the tub and he sits on the edge, immersing his fingers into the water to splash her playfully. A wet lock of hair falls into her face and she moves it away before splashing him back.

"If it's a war that you want I'm not going to disappoint you," he tells her entering the water and kneeling on the sides of her legs. He holds her shoulders and pushes her back to lay on the bottom of the tub. Taking a mouthful of air he follows her underwater and kisses her to give it to her. It doesn't go as planned, because he gives in to the temptation and slips his tongue into her mouth and soon he must let her come up for air.

Bonnie brushes the soaked hair away from her face and chokes on water as she glimpses his perfect face and spiked black hair while he studies her with an intense look on his face.

"Truce?" he asks, stopping the faucet, which is now overflowing, and getting up from the tub.

"Are you that scared of my counter attack?" she asks, surprised to see him leave the field so easily.

Damon grins at her and kneels on the floor to whisper, "If I stay you're going to get dirty again."

There's such tension in his voice that she's tempted to tell him to, please, do that, but before she can betray herself he gives her a short, rough kiss and leaves the bathroom. She can see him drying himself off through the open door. The muscles of his legs and backside contract as he pulls up his jeans and when he turns around she does the same, embarrassed by being caught staring at him.

Damon leans on the doorpost and calls her, "Hey, wet bird."

She rolls her eyes at his new nickname, but turns to look at him, "What?"

He just grins and winks at her before taking his shirt and leaving the room.

#

After waking up past ten and spending most of the day in bed with Damon she leaves her room only to go downstairs and eat something. Her stomach grumbles and yet she feels like she could starve all her life if all her days can be like this one.

She prepares herself a costal omelet and takes a bite of a dark chocolate truffle. The front door opens as she's licking a chip of chocolate from her lower lip. Constantine enters, smiling at her.

He blinks and his smile falls, his expression changing into a slight amazement.

"Your power…"

Bonnie raises her eyebrows at his tone. "What about my power?"

"It's magnified. Your soul is more… vivid," he explains, cocking his head to the side, "You've experienced nature's ignition of eternity."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she says, grimacing. Sometimes when Constantine looks at her like this she wonders if he has x-ray vision and is actually looking under her clothes.

"You've carnally joined yourself to someone," he explains again.

"Oh." Does she have a neon sign on her forehead? Will people stop her on the street to ask her if she used protection?

"Damon?" he asks, confused by the sudden change. It is still hard for him to grasp what it is that moves humans in a certain direction.

Bonnie gasps, unsure of what to say, of what he expects her to do with her life.

"He's my choice," she answers simply.

"I understand," he says, nodding slowly as he continues to stare at her like he can understand the true meaning of choosing someone only by looking at the bright aura that radiates from her, trying to understand why she picked Damon, why not any other.

"Truffle?" she asks, raising the sweet towards him with a smile. She doesn't want for things to be difficult between them. He's slowly getting used to the human ways and there's something so clean about him, so sincere that makes her want to have something real with him. Not just a guardian-witch relationship, but a real bond, like the one she shares with Matt, or Stefan.

He looks confused at her question and Bonnie gestures for him to get closer. "Come here and open your mouth."

He complies obediently and she lets the remaining half of her chocolate truffle fall into his mouth.

"Now chew."

Constantine grimaces at the beginning but the taste seems to grow on him pretty soon and she watches his lips stretch into an approving expression.

"You have some chocolate on your lips," she tells him pointing her index at his mouth. "Lick it away," she says, licking her own lips so that he will mirror what she did.

He grins as she smiles at him and nods when she asks him, "Good?"

#

Her clean sheets smell of castile soap and they're fresh against her skin, but as she lays on the bed she stares at her mute phone unable to close her eyes.

"You ass," she says at the empty, dark room, "Call me."

And just like that the phone starts ringing. On the display flashes the name _my stallion of a boyfriend _and she can't contain her smile.

"Who's this?" she asks, answering at the second ring.

"If I didn't make an impression on you after today I'll have to do worse next time," he answers, from wherever he is, "I'll be glad to."

"Do you miss me?" he asks.

"We haven't seen each other in four hours," she tells him.

"_Desperately_ then, I understand," he decides with a sigh, "And what part of me do you miss me the most?"

"Are you trying to have phone sex with me?" she asks, suspicious.

"That's a brilliant plan. I'm teaching you well," he says, with a satisfied tone. "What are you wearing?" he asks, lowering his voice of an octave.

"Goodnight Damon," is her reply and she hangs up.

He can be such a pest, but he's a pest that makes her feel desired and loved and the happiest she's ever been in all her life. She tries to think of Jeremy, of the love she had for him, and yet this is _incomparable. _This is what she didn't know it was possible, not for her anyway; but, one day she gave him yet another aneurysm and, in return, he made her come to life.

It's a delicate balance, she knows that way too well. They're both so stubborn, so bad on communication that everything can turn into a disaster in a blink. But when it's good it's great. When it's good it's everything.

She falls asleep like this – thinking that for the first time in her life she has _everything_, and her heart aches a bit.

Around half an hour later, Bonnie wakes up – startled from a dream that gave her the illusion of suffocating – at the touch of someone's body against hers in the dark.

One arm wraps around her and she realizes she's pressed against Damon's chest. Bonnie gasps and reaches for the lamp on the nightstand, turning her head on the pillow to look at him.

"You almost gave me a heart attack!" she says, pressing a hand above her chest.

"Believe me when I say that's not what I came here to give you," he tells her with a sultry grin. He's naked in her bed and her heart is already running wild. His clothes are folded on the chair of her desk and since the curtains are still moving she can only guess he came in from the window.

"I can't believe you really pretend to have s-," she begins, outraged but he cuts her.

"I meant a _goodnight kiss,"_ he protests, putting a finger on her lips to stop her from talking and making a show of righteous indignation. "You're so naughty. I can't believe you that's how you think of me. Obviously when you see me all you think is sex-sex-sex, but I'm more than your personal stallion, you know, and you have to learn and accept a _no_. Get your mind out of the gutter. I'm telling you, if you don't change this unacceptable behavior I-"

A pillow sham she takes from the floor hits him in the face, stopping his speech at what he though was his most brilliant peak. He tears it from her hand and throws it behind him, dipping his head to give her a kiss and stop her giggling.

"You have school tomorrow," he says, brushing his nose against hers. "Don't provoke me."

"If you aren't here to sacrifice yourself to my insatiable sexual appetite, then why are you here?"

"I thought you didn't like waking up without me," he reminds her, reaching out to turn the lamp on the nightstand off, "You judgy, dirty girl of mine."

Bonnie turns on the side, smiling, and wraps his arms around her, pushing herself back against his chest.

"See you tomorrow."

"Night, little bird."


	10. Chapter 10

"Wake up," he says, but it's not his slow voice to awake her – in a very inconvenient way considering she must be in school in about one hour – rather his tongue against her earlobe and his mouth kissing and sucking his way down along her neck.

She opens her eyes on the clock on her nightstand and whines, because she can't possibly squeeze in any time for him right now.

"I have to go to school," she says, suffocating a yawn.

"You have to, diligent bird," he agrees against her wet skin, continuing his ministrations.

"But to do that I have to leave the bed, you know." She rolls on her back and sinks her fingers into his thick black hair.

"Poor little Bonnie, facing such a dilemma this early in the morning," he fakes a sympathetic tone. "To be, or not to be? That is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles; and, by opposing _between the sheets in the tantalizing company of your boyfriend _end them, to die _the sweet death_, to sleep… no more."

"Have you ever thought of pursuing a teaching career?" she asks, trying not to laugh at his twisting of Shakespeare's _Hamlet._

"If that means you'll call me _sir_ and obey me when I put you in detention…" he suggests with a grin.

"Oh, you mean, obeying when you'll be asking me to pick up a pencil from the floor for you or when you'll insist that I need you to give me _very_ private lessons?" she asks in a low tone but eyeing him with a disillusioned look. He never changes.

"Do you think you could wear the uniform?" he asks, hopeful, making her roll her eyes.

"You're impossible." Bonnie pushes him away weakly and gets up from the bed to get ready for school.

"Yeah, but could you?" he insists, teasing her.

When she shuts the bathroom door he can still hear her laughing. Damon lets himself fall back against the pillow and grins.

#

Needless to say, Constantine is the most speculated topic of the day.

His background story – as Stefan has instructed him – is that he's the son of a military family and therefore he travels a lot across the country. Never had any disciplinary trouble and has a preference for math.

About two hours after he's put his foot on academic territory he's become the playboy that had atorrid affair with the wife of his father's commander, and therefore his dad has left him in Mystic Falls to avoid any further troubles. He's been caught by Sheriff Forbes as he drove at high speed through town but charmed his way out of a ticket. Tyler is hostile to him because Caroline has a soft spot for him already. Bets say that he'll do the French teacher first, but since Miss Montroy blinked when she saw the face of her new student they're sure he already did – probably when they met at a previous school where she taught. _And what about his body? Have you seen that body?_ Because of his military upbringing he follows a strict discipline. He could easily take down any member of the Jujitsu team but he's modest and conscious of his own strength so he keeps to himself because he fears, one day, he will end up killing someone. The girl that wants to be with him must understand what a tortured, beautiful man he is and support him through his inner journey. He is not a whore, though, even if _I heard Tyler Swift has written a song about him, it's called "Please pick me" and it's coming out in her next album. _Claire, the girl that publicly dumped Brad Alcock – _the captain of the basketball team, remember? I couldn't believe it, they've been together for so long, three whole months! _ – wanted to have a threesome with him but he refused her because he's used to much prettier girls. He's a master of tantric sex. _Mandy told me so, she says that the best friend of her brother's best friend is in the army and when he was stationed in Fort Huachuca, Constantine locked himself into the infirmary with a young trainee nurse. Later she became a nun because no one could compare to him._ His IQ is 150, he took part in an education program offered by NASA but left because it wasn't challenging enough. _Oh if only he could notice me, I'm sure we could be epic and everyone would agree we're made for each other._

When they see him smile at Bonnie as they meet in the hallway, and change his path just to walk her to her class, more than one heart gets crushed. Until they remember she's actually dating the older Salvatore brother, so there's still hope. Furthermore such an outstanding guy is worth waiting and fighting for.

_#_

"How's your first day at school been, so far?" Bonnie asks as she walks with Constantine.

He turns his eyes around, in a circumspect way, lowering his voice as he bends his head towards her to answer, "I don't know. Everyone keeps whispering when I walk by."

"Do the girls do most of the whispering?" she asks in the same way, to indulge him.

"Yes, I think so," he nods, marveling at her insightfulness.

"Then I think your first day surpassed our best expectations."

"You'll never guess what I heard!" Before he can say anything Caroline joins them, breathless, "One of Constantine's father's recruits has come out because he fell in love with him at first sight and so, since he couldn't suffocate his love seeing him every day, he asked to be transferred from his squad."

"Come out of what? Was he trapped somewhere?" Constantine asks confused.

"He came out of the closet," Caroline tells him, "He told everyone he was gay!"

"I don't get it," he says, "I don't have a human father, so he can't have a recruit."

"That's not the point," she insists, stopping before they can exit the school gates.

"I never seem to get the point," Constantine sighs, "but you don't get to the point, either," he adds.

"That's kind of sarcastic," Bonnie says, elbowing in the side.

"You're making a reputation for yourself," the blonde vampire explains, "You're already popular. You know how much work it takes to be popular in high school? You're safe from obscurity and loneliness, but above all else, no one will dare question you. Ever. No matter how… _original_ you are. It's like a _get out of jail free_ card. You don't need to fear anything; life here will be everything you want it to be."

"But I just want it to be with Bonnie."

The two girls look at him stunned. Caroline offers a nervous chuckle, "Okay, I know you don't mean it the way it sounded but I don't think you should say anything like that ever again."

The boy turns towards the witch and she nods in approval, "Yes, please," she says, "I know you have your duty, but now you have a life too. Your world shouldn't revolve around me. You can have friends, have fun, make experiences."

He grimaces when he asks, "Like the hangover?"

"There are better things, I swear."

"I hope so."

"Okay then," Caroline interrupts them because she's part of the prom committee and she needs to leave. Constantine is the one to walk Bonnie out of school.

He blinks as he watches Bonnie rise on tip toes to kiss Damon.

Every time Damon is around her smile gets brighter, her voice becomes softer, her aura seem to shine more. He rationally knows that it's a good thing.

The vampire looks at him as he holds her against his chest, before she turns to wish him, "Good luck with your football try-out."

Even if she smiles brighter when she looks at Damon, he still likes it more when she looks at him.

_#_

He'd been the last one to leave the field, almost physically unable to abandon the inflated ball they used to play.

Matt had been there to help him understand some of the direction the coach was giving him, and Stefan went easy on him, both of them working for the coach to give him this chance, even if he was going to be relegated to the bench. Moreover school was about to be over in three weeks. He needed to wait the whole summer to be really part of the team.

And yet he feels proud he could do it. Even being hit and knocked down was not so bad. His opponent smiled down at him through the metal bars of the helmet and offered his hand to help him up. He remembered the strange, violent display of manly affection in the mall when he was shopping with the girls and felt a little bit _human_ for the first time.

"Hey Con-man," a team player coming out of the locker room and gives him a slap on the back and passes him by as he is entering.

Constantine looks at Tyler as he is putting his stuff back in the backpack, and asks in a low voice, "Does he know?"

The werewolf looks at him puzzled, throwing the backpack over his shoulder, "What are you talking about?"

"My true identity. He called me Con-man. Does he know I'm not actually a human?" his blue eyes are wide and alarmed, staring into Tyler's face.

"He didn't call you a swindler," he assures him, shaking his head at such ignorance, "He shortened your first name. Like, sometimes they call me T-man. It's actually kind of a fellowship thing, really. They're accepting you into the team, man."

"Oh, that's good."

Tyler just sighs, walking to the door, then turns around to ungracefully remind him "Take a shower, you stink."

Constantine lowers his head toward his chest, actually sniffing himself. Well, his scent right now is not the best, he has to admit it. Nothing to do with the fresh floral scent that he always smells around Caroline or the black honey that he can detect on Bonnie every time they are close.

He likes this about girls, they always smells so much better than their male counterparts.

Constantine strips off his sweaty clothes and leaves them in a messy pile on the wood bench. He is the last one left in the locker room so he walks to the shower and proceeds to wash himself up.

He had picked his shower gel with Bonnie, and even if he only heard bad things about shopping with a girl he didn't think it was so bad. Actually, he had survived a day with Caroline and he supposed that the rest could only get better. Furthermore, making choices was becoming kind of thrilling for him.

He had picked a bottle with a blue jelly fluid but Bonnie had told him that he needed an aftershave too, because he couldn't keep on using her dads – the scent doesn't suit him, she said - so she had insisted about buying him a box with both the gel and the aftershave. It was a nice black box with white print that said _Iceberg Effusion Man._

Under the warm water jet Constantine opens the gel tube and tries to smell the scent through the vapor in the air. It is faint but good.

As he showers, and rubs the gel over his firm body, watching the tiles in front of him, he catches a faint sound and turns around to see nothing. Yet as he continues he hears another sound. But this time, when he turns around he catches a brown lock of hair behind the wall that separate the showers from the actual looker room.

Constantine is guarded, cautious. He walks slowly towards that corner, heedless about the water still running and impacting on the shower plate. Whoever is hiding behind the wall should have heard the change in the sound but when he faces the intruder she is petrified where she stands.

The girl is startled at his apparition. Her cheeks take on a light shade of red and she seems unable to choose where to direct her gaze, if to his face or to a lower part of his anatomy, which has her gasping. Constantine is confused and he tightens his eyes into two cracks, studying her.

"This is the men's locker room," he informs her, politely.

"I know," she answers, looking away for a moment like she's very nervous. When people are nervous, Constantine has come to realize in his short experience, it will make them feel better if you are kind to them, so he smiles at her.

She stares at a drop of water on his lower lip and seems to relax, leaning into his chest.

Constantine looks down, where their bodies meet and he reminds her, "You're going to get wet."

Instead of being worried about her attire she smiles up to him. He remember this smile because it's the same one he received at Bonnie's party, and a few times that morning as he walked through the school's corridors.

"I was hoping so," she says, with a breathy tone.

The guardian stares into her eyes, fascinated at the fact that such a tiny detail can say so much about a person. It is actually against the rules for girls to shower in the male's rooms but there's no one around and he thinks that maybe he can let her. She looks so hopeful he would feel guilty crashing her hopes.

"I won't tell anyone," he tells her, in a low voice, because this is going to be a secret, "But you should really take off your clothes."

She does. The girl keeps her eyes on him and opens the button of her blouse, kicks her boots to the side, and pushes down the jeans from her hips before taking off the bra and her panties.

He never saw a female body before, not naked at least. It has some unspeakable allure. The chest, above all, looks so very soft.

"Can I touch?" he asks, raising his eyes to her face to make sure he has her permission.

"Of course," she licks her lips and takes his hand to bring it to her chest. She makes him grip her breast and moans in response to the possessive touch. He blinks at her reaction, but decides he doesn't mind. She seems very happy with him, and it's not something he can accomplish very often, so he smiles at her.

"That's nice," he says, cordially, "Thanks," he adds, to show appreciation to her helpfulness, "You should go take your shower before the hot water runs out," he reminds her, pulling away from her and walking to go and get dressed.

She babbles a "What?" but she's so taken aback that her voice doesn't even come out. Constantine doesn't see the stunned look on her face as he leaves her standing there.

#

Sitting on the passenger seat, Bonnie flips through the pages of her book, marking with a sign the parts she must pay more attention to as the fingers of Damon's right hand tap on the manual gearbox.

Her left hand unconsciously moves to cover his on the manual gear and he turns his eyes on her, repressing a smile. She's all concentrated on her books, her hair falling around her face like a curtain as he guesses her teeth chewing on the inside of her mouth.

Damon drives quietly, calmly, for the place he needs to be is only with her. He doesn't even bother to tell her they're arrived once he stops his car in front of her house. He just relaxes in his seat, turns his hand so that they are palm against palm, and laces their fingers together.

Bonnie pulls a strand of hair behind her left hear using her right hand, which is still holding the pencil, just so that she doesn't need to let go of his hold. He spends a few minutes like this, watching her organizing her study until he hears her rumbling stomach. He shakes his head, "Oh, little bird, how did you survive without me all this time?" he asks. Feeding himself the little lie that he is as indispensable for her as she is for him.

His voice sinks into her brain a few moments later and she raises her head, blinking at him.

"What?" she asks, looking into his blue eyes.

Damon grins and turns his eyes to point at her house, "We've been here for a while, but you were so busy reading that you didn't even notice.

She closes the book on her legs with her right hand, "I was reviewing for a test that I have tomorrow."

"_Please_," he begs, with a devilish grin, "tell me that it's anatomy and I'll devote myself to helping you discover every secret of it."

She smiles condescendingly and picks up the book so that he can read the title: "_Biology:_ _Concepts and Connections". _Under the words in bold type, from a light blue cover a frog looks at him with some sort of threatening expression, probably telling him "I'm going to kill her libido and therefore your sexual life and there's nothing you can do about it".

Or maybe he's just whipped by her and doesn't want to share her time with any amphibians.

"Are you, at least, at the chapter about mating?"

"You wish," she says, rolling her eyes and throwing her book against his chest. It bumps against his muscles and falls on his lap. Only then does she realize they've been holding hands the whole time.

Bonnie looks away to hide her blushing and leaves her tight hold to get out of the car.

He's too smug about it to let it go easily.

_I've made my home in your heart and your mind  
And you laid your hands on my chest and  
You pointed home_

"I didn't figure you for the holding hand type, you know. If I check your textbook will I find pierced hearts and _B+D together forever_?" he asks as he follows her to her front door, holding her textbook for her.

She gives him a dirty look as she turns the key into the keyhole.

"Do you already sign your stuff with _Bonnie Salvatore?"_

"Yes, I do in fact," she says with a cutting smile, "Since the day I laid eyes on Stefan," she chants as she walks to the kitchen.

"That's not funny!"

"I disagree," she says, without turning around.

"Take it back," he says, turning her and trapping her against the counter top. She gasps and giggles, "Why should I?"

"You're dirty," he says, calling her on her teasing.

"I thought you liked dirty," she answers, her voice barely a whisper. Damon smiles, before dipping his head to kiss her lips, then go lower to give proper attention to the beautiful curve of her neck.

"Damon, I'm hungry," she gasps, when his tongue presses against her pulse point.

"That's what I wanted to hear," he says, his mouth busy on her skin.

Bonnie giggles again, pushing him away to look at him, "I mean it, I'm starving, and then I need to study for tomorrow's test."

Damon rolls his eyes, takes her by the shoulders and walks her to the table, making her sit. He slaps the textbook in front of her, "You study, diligent bird, I'm going to cook for you. Feel free to show your appreciation in whatever indecent manner crosses your mind."

_I'll give you all of me  
I'll make you mine  
If you'll take me and you'll make me  
Your first in line, oh_

She does as he told her – well, more or less. She spends twenty minutes on the same page, playing with the pencil between her fingers, sneaking peeks at him every chance she gets. For the first _non-date_ they never got to live he had ordered food, because he had been too busy setting up the garden for their night out. Well, as out as she could manage. Having him cook for her is new. Peeking through those memories of him still lingering in her mind she knows this is his first time doing that for her – aside for one time when he made her breakfast - and for how ridiculous it can sound she doesn't want to miss it. She missed so many firsts - only living them through his memories – that she can't give up on this one.

"Am I that sexy?" he asks, checking the cooking time of the spaghetti.

She gives up on hiding her interest in watching him cook for her and abandons the pencil on the open book, which rolls in the crack.

"I'm more attracted to the spaghetti," she says, resting her back against the chair. He grins at her before draining the pasta.

She knows him well enough to guess his language. Food is to feed, _Italian_ is to seduce. Everything he does, he must always take it up a notch.

She stands, putting her books away and setting the table. As she used to do when she _didn't _live in the Salvatore boarding house – oh sometimes this whole thing it's just so complicated – she set a place for him too and he amuses her, putting a forkful of spaghetti onto a plate for himself.

As he brings the plates to the table he catches the string of her ankle boot laying on the floor.

"It smells amazing," she says, watching the brilliant red of tomato and the basilica leaf on top of it.

"It tastes amazing too," he says, immodest, as he sits. Before she can roll her eyes at him though, he bends down, taking her ankle into his hand and pulling up her leg.

She doesn't have the time to do anything but gasp. She sees him trapping her foot between his knees. Damon rolls up her jeans with care, takes the strings between his fingers and laces them, then he rolls her jeans back down and put her foot back on the floor.

_I've seen you, I've kissed you  
In two hours, I've missed you  
I'll take it, I'll make it  
I'll give you all_

"Check for yourself," he says, taking the fork himself, oblivious to the way she's looking at him, "And don't hold back with the compliments."

Bonnie is a rational creature, she likes to ponder and be sure of what she's doing. She thinks and she thinks and she thinks some more, but when Damon acts this way she just wants to throw caution to hell.

She chose not to ask herself what pushed her to have sex with Damon, despite her normally prudent attitude, her talk about going slow, fearing she could realize too late, it just happened out of lust or fear to lose him, but right now, as she lowers her eyes on the food he cooked for her just so he won't see her eyes, and the love he arouses so easily reflected in them, she understands it was _this_. This tenderness he's so oblivious to and that makes her feel like her heart is breaking, making her wish she could go out of her own body and be one with him. And it's just so right. She can't believe she could ever doubt what they have, what moved her.

He's so stupidly unaware and she's so stupidly in love. With his conceited ways, with his inclination to innuendos, with his sweetest insecurities, with the way he gets angry when he can't find a better way to say he cares.

She doesn't even taste the spaghetti before answering him, "It's exactly what I needed."

#

**Important note:** It's hard to explain – since I'm never happy with what I write anyway - but lately I've been lead to think that I'm not writing the character's development with enough clarity, it has me thinking that maybe I should give up on this story entirely. I've published this chapter because it's been ready for a while but I can't guarantee that I'm going to write the rest of it. Maybe it's just me being paranoic, but right now I don't know if I'm going to continue Divenire.

**Note 2: **the song used in this chapter is "First in line" by Matthew Mayfield.


End file.
