Chapter Text
Damon Salvatore imagined his wedding day ever since he met Katherine Pierce.
He knew he would never treat his wife the way his father and the majority of men treated their wife’s in 1860s Virginia. Katherine didn’t deserve that. She deserved someone gentle and loving who would promenade with her in the garden. Someone who would read her favourite books out loud to her late at night because she was too tired to do it herself. Someone that would send her flowers every Sunday and kiss her cheek upon meeting her.
Damon had done all of those things because that’s what she deserved.
Until she didn’t.
And now he has Elena Gilbert.
She’s tucked under his arm, holding a champagne glass in her left hand as her other arm is wrapped around him. She’s smiling from ear to ear, hair pinned up, and she smells like jasmine and sandalwood—a scent that Damon used to love for how it grounded him. For how it reminded him of the love of his life.
Caroline had outdone herself when setting up their engagement party in the Forbes garden. Tables were set out with bite sized food and desserts, and she had even set up a mini bar that Damon had indulged in a bit too much for a man that was supposed to be present and sober for his own engagement party. The summer sun shone in the clear blue sky and he was surrounded by familiar faces—Alaric chatting with Stefan as they both nursed glasses of bourbon, Matt, Tyler and Jeremy plotting ways to find the engagement ring and win the prize on the made up game Caroline had created.
“We need something to keep the kids busy,” she had insisted and nodded her head at something behind them, and both Damon and Elena had glanced back to see poor Alaric struggling with keeping his girls, Josie and Lizzie, fingers away from the three layer raspberry and lemon cake covered in white buttercream. “And the adults too, seeing as the stupid bartender ran out of martini glasses.” Caroline had rolled her eyes.
Elena had hesitated, looking up at Damon for approval as she fiddled with the ring—a five carat clean cut diamond on a gold band—and he had just nodded, not really caring much of the ring he had spent a small fortune on. Elena had beamed and kissed his cheek as she slid it off and handed it to Caroline who had thanked them and went off to set up the unplanned ring hunt she had gotten inspiration by the Easter egg hunt.
Elena had interlocked her fingers in his giving his hand a squeeze. “I think that will earn us some good karma,” she smiled and bumped her hip with his. “You know, for our kids.”
Right.
Their kids.
His kids.
With Elena.
“Can’t argue with that logic,” he forced a smile that he hoped she wouldn’t notice how strained it was, and kissed her temple and she giggled, dragging him away to introduce him to more of her extended family.
He had proposed three weeks after Bonnie had awoken Elena from her sleeping beauty coma. The proposal was simple, but intimate and romantic. Blindfolded and smiley, she had been led out of his Camaro after a candlelit dinner and to the bridge where he had promised they’d be together forever. He had set up candles that lined the path, and she had gasped when she took the blindfold off and saw him on one knee with an open ring box. He had even prepared a speech, forcing himself to remind himself of all the reasons he loved her because if he’s going to do this he’s going to do it right.
But it felt…wrong. All of this—the engagement party, Elena’s happy smiles, Stefan’s proud face when he told him that Elena said yes—it made Damon feel as if he was simply going through the motions. Following duty. Like he was stuck in a past version of Damon Salvatore that wasn’t stuck for months with a certain witch that had been avoiding him like a plague.
And for someone who has spent 178 years of his life doing the opposite of that, he suddenly felt as if he should get another drink that the bartender would definitely side eye him for getting.
“Alright everyone, gather around. I want to make a toast.”
Elena’s cheery voice and the clink of her tea spoon against her champagne glass made Damon snap out of his spiralling thoughts. She moved away from where she had been tucked and his arm fell limp to his side. He realised he had his gaze stuck on his shoes and he glanced up and saw the murmur of the extensive guest list quiet down and turn their attention back on him and his future wife.
But Damon’s focus was on how he couldn’t help but notice that Miss Judgey was not in the crowd.
Maybe she’s still out in the garden, enjoying the sun and indulging in the cupcakes.
Or maybe she’s joined the ring hunt.
Or maybe she’s left.
Damon exhaled sharply.
Elena turns to him and smiles as she holds up her champagne glass. “I can’t put into words how much I love you Damon, or how excited I am for our future and to create our own family. There have been moments where I honestly didn’t think I’d see this day but…” Elena sighs out like she was choked up, and gathers herself. “Here we are, and I couldn’t be happier.”
The pure joy in her eyes was killing him. But not in the way he wanted it to.
Elena turns to the crowd of friends and relatives. “To us and the future!” She toasts, and the crowd cheered, glasses clinked and they drank. Damon downs his champagne in one go, forcing a smile for the crowd filled with his in-laws.
Yup, he needed that drink.
Giving Elena a quick peck he excuses himself from the people and goes outside and breathes in the fresh air tinged with sweet flowers, and orders a double shot of bourbon from the young blonde bartender, Kent.
“I’d like one too.” Damon was just about to take a sip but stops halfway as Stefan approaches and is served his glass right after. But Damon didn’t wait, simply whipped his head back and finished his double, and tapped his pointer finger twice on the bartenders set up and was immediately served again.
“Whoah, slow down there,” Stefan smiled and took a small sip himself, and Damon gave him a tired smirk in return. For a second, things are doozy and Damon registers Stefan’s lips moving but his ears have perked up, his vampire hearing picking up on a charming laugh far away inside the house, that he definitely wanted to be the cause of.
“Stop it, Matt.”
…Seriously?
Matt Donovan out of all people was making Bonnie Bennett laugh? What could he possibly be saying to make her laugh?
He could practically envision her throwing her head back, playfully slapping Matt’s arm, before covering her mouth. A bashful, adorable habit that he liked drawing out of her. And now Matthew was doing it.
The thought made Damon want to roll his eyes. And simultaneously wish he had choked Matt when he had the chance.
“Hello? Damon.” Damon slowly returned to reality upon Stefan snapping his fingers in front of his face.
“Huh?” Damon’s focus snapped back, vision clearing.
Stefan chuckled, and grabbed Damon’s drink out of his hand and set it down in front of the bartender before telling him 'Don’t let him have any more drinks', and wrapped his arm around Damon’s shoulders, leading him away from the bar and they leaned against the white picket fence.
Damon roams his gaze around, letting his eyes soak in the view of his future.
Elena’s youngest cousins playing with Lizzie and Josie as Caroline snapped pictures and showed them to Ric who already wore a proud smile. The Forbes house was a comely sight. Perfectly lawned grass with flowers of all colours growing along the fence and forming a perfect square. A perfect house fit for a perfect family, its garden filled with people mingling and enjoying themselves. It was all so… human.
Damon scowled. “I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to drink at my own engagement party.”
“You’re not drinking. You’re being a drunk, and scaring the small children.” Damon turns to glare just to see Stefan with a calculating look, his arms crossed and travelling his gaze up and down Damon’s form clad in a blush button up and white slacks. Elena insisted—it matched her dress and her white kitten heels. “Getting cold feet or what?”
Damon pretended to check the time on his watch. “Didn’t realise it was interrogation time.”
“Not interrogating. Just asking what’s on your mind,” Stefan answers.
In his peripheral vision, Damon catches one of Elena’s aunts taking a picture of their snot-nosed kid in his driver's seat of his parked convertible that he had left with the hood down. It only served to sour his mood.
Damon straightened up. “What’s on my mind is that I’d like to not have this conversation and to finish the drink you so rudely interrupted.” Damon smiles sarcastically and pats Stefan on his arm and saunters off before his little brother could poke too much into the real cause of him being in a mood.
Damon doesn’t bother with the judgey bartender in the garden. Preferring to mix his own unnecessarily strong drink in peace—Damon sneaks past people to avoid more congratulations and stops dead in his tracks at the doorway to the kitchen because Bonnie was there.
She’s standing with her back towards him and he takes a second to soak her in .
Her scent hits him first—woody floral with a hint of something uniquely her—filling his head and making him dizzy. Her hair had grown from the bob she had in the prison world and he had to admit he liked it. Her chestnut curls were pulled into a loose pony and he could see her bangs were swept sideways. She was wearing a long, white dress with pink peonies print, tapered around her waist and flowing down to her ankle, showing off her open toed sandals with a small heel and the gold anklet with tiny emeralds he had bought her.
24 karat pure gold, it was dainty and the stones matched her eyes. Right after she had returned from the prison world, Damon couldn’t put into words what he was feeling.
Chock.
Surprise.
Awe.
But most of all—pure, unfiltered joy.
In the weeks after she had sent him back to the real world and acted like the insufferable martyr she is, Damon had been in hell.
Drinking every day, ignoring and pushing away everyone that tried to help him out. Elena had been so surprised to see him acting like this over Bonnie Bennett. Elena’s best friend.
And now—Damon’s best friend.
So when Damon did come home after drinking himself half to death and almost ramming over at least twelve pedestrians on the sidewalk—just to see her in his kitchen, the smell of pancakes and sweet whipped cream filling his nose, and her beaming at him—It didn’t take long until he was stuck to her hip like glue.
And she had let him.
“I thought I was clear when I said that our relationship only existed in that prison hell.” She said when he had pulled up into her house one evening, holding a indigo velvet box with said anklet behind his back, and grinning at the thought of how she’d react.
“Well, you just came back from the dead, Bon Bon. And I came back from the dead a second time. I think we can set aside our hatred for one evening, don’t you think?”
Looking back to it now, he realised how… obvious he had been. Especially when he wasted no time stepping in and dragging her to her bedroom and sat her down, immediately getting down on one knee and pulling her ankle up.
“Damon, what are you doing?” She almost sounded nervous, which is fair seeing as they had a penchant for landing in awkward situations when alone.
But he only grinned up at her, and pulled the velvet box out and put it in her hand. “Open it.”
She squinted her eyes at him, clearly suspicious. “Is it a bomb?”
He had rolled his eyes. “Just… open it.” He commanded again. And she did, gasping under her breath.
“It’s beautiful. ” Bonnie looked down at him, brows furrowed, and there was a new tenseness to her whole posture. She had cleared her throat. “Do you need like a stamp of approval before giving this to Elena or what?”
She had tried to keep her voice steady and she succeeded… but her eyes told a different story. She looked conflicted yet collected. Determined but also dejected.
Damon’s smile had dropped then. “Silly witch.” He muttered, before grabbing the anklet from her hand, the movement having their hands crushed against each other and Damon’s body filled with a tingling sensation, like electricity had touched him. He had ignored it.
He could say more—tell her that he saw it earlier that same day when shopping with Elena but for some reason he was imagining doing it with Bonnie instead the whole time. Or when he spotted it he had stopped dead in his tracks because the colour resemblance to her eyes were uncanny and he just had to get it for her. Or when Elena, who had been walking in front of him, turned and saw her fiance ogle a jewellery display box, asking if he was okay, Damon promptly snapped out of it and kept walking.
Just to come back the same day and buy it because he was scared someone else would purchase it before him.
He did imagine giving it to her on her birthday, or literally any occasion that didn’t make it seem like he was out shopping for her, but as he was driving home, his mind hadn’t left her, and his hands automatically spun the wheel to the left and led him to the Bennett residence.
And there he was, kneeling in front of her and clasping the jewellery around her ankle. Unbiddenly, his gaze had trailed over her smooth skin that was exposed from the striped pyjama shorts she was wearing. From her ankle, up her calf and thigh, and he had to stop himself from looking up. Suddenly rising up when he realised how… compromising this position was and his mind immediately imagined hearing that same anklet jingle over his shoulder while he had his head buried between her legs, a crawling sensation travelling up his spine.
“That was for uh…” Damon’s mind had gone blank. So he cleared his throat and forced out the first words that came to mind that would break him out of this stupid hold Bonnie unknowingly had him in. “For helping Elena find a wedding dress. She said she loved it.”
Tense silence had filled the room and for a second the noise of the background—the steady hum of her refrigerator, cars driving outside, and her TV playing some reality program—drowned out and their gazes were stuck on each other. He analysed her face.
Her plump lips were slightly parted and she had a soft crease between her eyes. She didn’t say anything. She just blinked and stood, and he had noted that they almost stood chest to chest.
“I love it. Thank you." and Damon just nodded, not stepping away.
She hugged him then. That had caught him by surprise but still he couldn't help pulling her closer as much as he could, arms around her waist and head in the crook of her neck. But it was impossible not to while he still had the chance to have her this close because their hugs didn’t happen often.
Damon exhales, mind returning to the present.
“I see we’re all grown up now,” he starts, stepping into the kitchen.
Bonnie turns then, brows furrowed in confusion, and something in his chest aches. She looked… normal. Like she wasn’t breaking apart the same way he was.
But then again—she was always better at pretending things were normal between them when they clearly weren’t.
“What do you mean?” She asks.
He stops right in front of her, still leaving room for distance but enough for her scent to smother him now. She doesn’t step away.
Figures. She’s always been stubborn like that. Head tilted up in defiance, she tenses slightly when Damon grabs the bottle to tilt it more in his direction, his cold hand closing over her warm one.
Damon nods his head at the slim bottle reading Merlot. “I could have given you Pinot Noir made the year you were born Bon. All you have to do is say please.”
Bonnie huffs out a laugh, pulling back the bottle and placing it on the counter, stepping around him to go to the other side of the kitchen. “Don’t want it. I was just looking at it.”
Damon leans against the counter, crossing his arms and watches as she starts rummaging through cupboards. Even with her back to him, Damon still noticed the tension in her shoulder, yet she moved gracefully around the Forbes kitchen.
“No? What do you want then?” He asks.
Bonnie hummed thoughtfully. “Something cold. And refreshing.” She closed the cupboard and moved to the next beside it, letting out a content noise under her breath when she pulled out two tall glasses, turning to him with a small smile playing on her lips. “Think you can make those cute cocktails?”
The corner of Damon’s lips turn up before he can stop it, memories rushing in.
After three months of being stuck together in the Prison World, Bonnie and Damon had finally landed in a sweet spot where they could indulge in each other's presence without admitting they actually enjoyed it. Drowning in the lie of Being-civil-is-only-logical-because-solitude means-insanity-but-that-doesn’t-mean-I-like-you. More often than not they had conversations that didn’t end in death threats, and most of them could be credited to Damon’s cocktails keeping them loose and pliant and chattery.
“Huh, this is actually… not bad.” Bonnie had licked her lips and Damon’s gaze behind his black designer sunglasses was stuck on them for a few seconds before her voice brought him back. “Would’ve tasted better if we weren’t stuck in a hell hole pretending we weren’t going crazy though.”
That was her first reaction when she had tried the drink—a mixture of fresh berries, sprite, and a hint of fresh mint Bonnie had been growing in the Boarding House garden. They had sat on two beach chairs Damon had snagged from Bell’s Grocery Store and set up in the backyard, facing the blaring May sun.
Damon took a sip himself, condensation drops wetting his fingertips, closing his eyes in mock bliss and making an exaggerated content noise that he was sure Bonnie was rolling her eyes at. When he opened them again, Bonnie was staring at him with a blank face. He just kept at it. “The sun is out, the birds are chirping, I’m shirtless and here you are being a Debby Downer. You seriously gotta work on that Bon.”
Bonnie sighed then, shifting in her seat. “I’m just…” she paused for a moment. “staying in the moment.” She finally sighs out.
Clearly her eternal optimism was running out but for once Damon wasn’t having it, feeling extra kind that afternoon. Perhaps it was the sun.
Or perhaps it was that he suddenly felt a sharp, stabbing pain where his heart was supposedly beating at the resigned look on Bonnie’s face and he just had to do something about it.
“Well, let me help you do it properly.” Damon placed his drink on the cobblestone beside the pitcher full of the new drink before swiping his glasses off and gently placing them on her face, and Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut, nose scrunching, before relaxing again. He stood, grabbing her ankles, and she yelped, and it made Damon grin as he moved her into a lying position on the lounging chair. “Relax. Now.” He says and bops her nose and she swats at him. But she does sigh out and shifts so she’s even more comfortable.
Proud of himself, Damon takes the same position on the chair beside her, bathing himself in sunlight, occasionally taking small sips of the fruity and fizzy drink.
“I honestly thought your body was made of 90% bourbon.” She said after a few minutes. “Didn’t think you were into something sooo…girly.”
“Rude.” Damon answered and he turned his head to the side to glare at her just to see her completely relaxed, bathed in sunlight, glass empty except a few ice cubes and mint and muddled berries at the bottom. She was dressed in shorts and a gray tank that clung to her, white lace bra peeking out at the side, and a red plaid flannel tied around her hips. His flannel. “I was going to name it after you but all this attitude is making me reconsider.”
“Oh, the horror. Whatever will I do?” She answers, unbothered, but a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. Damon just huffed out in amusement and turned back to the sun.
A beat passes before Bonnie speaks again. “Is this what you’re gonna be serving in your bar? ” Damon turned back to her and she had turned her head to him as well. “You know…when we get out?”
“When we get out?” Damon lifted a brow at her, challenging. “Just a few minutes ago you were thinking the opposite.”
She shrugged. “You told me to be positive—this is it.”
Damon hummed thoughtfully. “I haven’t figured out all the details. But it seems to be a hit so why not?” He admitted. “I’m sure my kids will love it.” He adds with a smirk, imagining Elena’s furious face.
She snorted. “I still can’t believe you’re gonna be a dad.” She says.
Damon had to laugh as well. He still couldn’t believe it himself. “Tell me about it.”
She hummed. “Honestly, I can see it.” Her voice was soft, and lacked the hint of mocking he expected and he stilled. She was smiling at him, genuine and real. “I think you’re gonna be a really good one.”
Damon kept his eyes closed, smirk faltering, the heat had made small sweat beads form on his forehead. “Say it to my face, Bon.”
“I don’t have to,” She retorts. “These last few months have shown me the real Damon Salvatore.” The tone in her voice suggested she wanted a rise out of him, but Damon only just hummed, enjoying the sun too much to get into his usual fighting mood. “And he’s not so bad.”
“I’ll remember that, Bon.”
She let out a laugh, light and carefree, and Damon’s own smile wouldn’t leave. He hears her shift and hears more of the cocktail pouring into her glass before she resumes position, letting out a content sigh.
“So, just out of pure curiosity—and not because having a drink named after me is suddenly something I wouldn’t mind—what would it be called?”
Truthfully, Damon hadn’t really thought about a name for the new concoction. So, on the spot, he decided on whatever would make her feel embarrassed the most.
"Liqueur de Bonnie,” He mused. “Though I bet you taste better.”
She let out a sound—a mix between a laugh and a snort—before she slapped a hand over her mouth, and Damon raised his brows in surprise. “I think you’ve had a few too many, young lady. ” He said trying to sound firm to mess with her further but he was grinning now, doubting she even heard him over her laugh. And he noticed that the pitcher was almost empty and so was her glass.
Maybe he had put in a bit too much vodka.
“You’re so stupid.” She laughs out and Damon has never been more amused in his life. She swings her legs over and grabs the pitcher, filling half her glass but stands to pour the rest into his half empty one.
She seats herself and raises her glass, eyes slightly glassy but bright. “To Liqueur de Bonnie, and the hope that Elena can fix your brain when she becomes a doctor.”
The grin still hasn’t left him and he raised his glass and clinked it against hers. “Amen.”
“Damon.”
Damon blinks and he’s back in the Forbes kitchen with Bonnie frowning at him.
“Did you forget the recipe, or what?” She laughed a bit but it was clearly forced to lighten the mood.
Damon blinked again and gathered himself, forcing himself to focus on the present where he was getting married for God’s sake and not the past where Bonnie was supposed to be.
He forces a smirk. “After all this time you still remember, huh?” He steps closer, grabbing the glasses from her hands before placing them down on the tabletop and begins rummaging through the cupboards for ingredients.
“Sorta’,” she sighs. “I’m also just in desperate need to get drunk.”
Damon hummed. “Two Liquer de Bon Bon coming up,” he muses. Damon shook his head in amusement, putting a few ice cubes into the two glasses. “Still not over Enzo?”
Saying Enzo’s name felt strange these past weeks, leaving Damon in a downcast state mixed with feigned indifference. Keeping up a relationship with that man had felt next to impossible since Bonnie broke up with him a month ago, and Damon, for the life of him, couldn't figure out why.
He had been good. After a few pep talks from Elena and sucking down his pride, he had managed to properly make up with everyone who meant a damn to him: Alaric forgave him and has even let Damon babysit Lizzie and Josie on a few urgent occasions, Stefan and him slipped back into their usual relationship where time heals all wounds, and even Caroline (save all the snarky comments, though they were expected) had been nicer to him after his proposal to Elena.
Yet his relationship with Enzo had felt strained ever since Bonnie forgave Damon after his self induced coma. Him and Enzo talked, drank, and spent time together and he was even supposed to be Damon’s third best man next to Stefan and Alaric.
But Enzo has been a ghost in the wind after his split with Bonnie. Not even bothering to answer Damon’s check up messages, leaving him on read as if to prove a point.
Would hurt a lot more if the bastard could just say what the problem was but nonetheless it didn’t matter. This way, Damon could have Bonnie to himself. Have her back to being his best friend that he planned to force to join his bachelor party as she would make it x10 more fun. He had barely pretended to be upset about the breakup, feeling unexpectedly light after Elena delivered the news as she was packing her bag for a post-breakup girls night.
“I was the one that broke up with him, you know.” Bonnie answered.
“That’s right, it’s all coming back to me.” Damon said and finished mixing the drinks, pouring them into the prepared glasses and not bothering to top it off with the mint as garnish. Handing hers to Bonnie, Damon decided to push his luck a bit. “You still haven’t told me why exactly you did that.” He tilted his head, eyes raking over her as she moved away from him and walked all the way over to the other side of the kitchen and leaned against it.
She had gone just slightly stiff, crossing one arm over her chest as she lifted the glass to her mouth and took a sip. “And I’m not going to either,” she answered firmly.
A predatory smirk spread across Damon’s face, and he took a sip and placed his glass down behind him. “Guessing game? I like it.”
Damon, the groom, couldn’t help the flirting lilt in his voice, the words rolling off his tongue before he could stop it. It was like slipping into a role—familiar, real and comforting.
The air felt thicker already, heavy, and his heart sped up. A familiar rush filled him, easing the stress from his engagement. He just needed to be a little closer.
Bonnie just sighed heavily, like she was annoyed already. Yet she stayed where she stood, stubborn and focused on her drink, taking small measured sips.
Damon pushes himself off the counter, rounding the countertop in the middle of the kitchen, pointer finger tracing the edge, eyes locked on her. “Let me guess—wandering eyes? That’s a sin in most religions so I understand why you’d be against it.”
Bonnie shifts, but she doesn’t look nervous. “I’m not even religious.” She rolls her eyes.
“Most people believe in something.” He challenges, voice dropping, taking yet another step closer. His body thrummed with excitement, and he licked his lips.
“I’m not most people.” She retorts, straightening up, still straight faced though Damon’s vampire senses picks up on her heartbeat speeding up just slightly.
His smirk falters. “No…you’re really not.”
Bonnie frowned and licked her lips, and Damon’s eyes traced the movement before flicking them back to her gaze. The glass hovered near her lips, half full now while Damon’s glass, full of ice, was on the counter, slowly melting—just like Damon’s restraint. Her scent hit him even stronger now, and he leaned into it like he couldn’t help it, not noticing that he was stepping even closer until there was only a small distance left, trapping her between him and the counter.
He could feel the heat radiating off her, pick up on her cherry scented gloss, and it was making his head spin.
“What then? He didn't treat you well?” The words slip out before caution could win. Bonnie ignored him, eyes flickering away from his, taking yet another sip like it’ll shield her. A quarter of her drink remained. “You’re a whole lotta’ woman Bon. You really gotta find someone who can… handle you.” He smirked.
She tilted her chin up. The sun shone directly on her face then—the smooth skin, the halter exposing the graceful curve of her neck, verdant eyes that had grown slightly heavy lidded—were all too much.
Yet not enough .
Her movement made a strand of her hair cover her face. Damon’s finger twitched at his side, aching to tuck it behind her ear.
“Why do you assume it was him?”
Damon stills. Bonnie’s gaze had hardened.
The answer was pretty obvious.
Bonnie was perfect, anything anyone could ever want. Funny, but in that deadpan kind of way that caught him off guard, and before he knew it laughter was bubbling up before he could stop it. Smart, in the kind of way where she made things seem so obvious, stopping him from making stupid decisions, and he couldn’t help but admire it. Stubborn, more than him, leading him to almost strangling her on several occasions as it brought her nothing but pain, yet he always stopped because at the root of it was her unwavering loyalty to her family, her friends… and him.
Unknowingly, Bonnie gave him everything he didn’t even think he needed.
Damon swallowed thickly, hating how quickly she had turned his game around seeing as she didn’t even try.
“Well because you’re you and he’s… Enzo.” He says, glad his voice came out steady, yet slight bitterness slipped in upon him saying Enzo’s name. “And we both know you don’t exactly make the best decisions sometimes, right Bon?” He jokes, hoping that it was a good cover up. But it doesn’t land.
Bonnie’s face changes—morphing into a mix of annoyance and exasperation. “So, I just suck at choosing life partners then, is that what you think?”
Damon blinks, taken aback by her sudden hostility. “What? No. I never said that.”
Bonnie barely gives him a second to breathe before she plants her glass on the nearest surface, anger radiating off her. “You know I think it’s better if you just don’t say anything.”
And with that she squeezes past him, chest brushing against his, and walks out of the room.
At least she tries, but Damon is quicker, hand darting out and grabbing her wrist, pulling her back.
“What the hell was that?” He asks, voice rising.
“Let go of me.” She huffs, face scrunched up and trying to wring her arm free but Damon only tightens his grip.
“I didn’t think I hit a nerve. Get over it Bon, you guys broke up a month ago. I'm just asking why.”
Damon’s temper had risen just as quickly as hers and he could hear her heart pounding, and she was breathing more heavily now. She was still trying to wring herself free and Damon pulled her in closer, grabbing her shoulder with his other arm. Now face to face, breathing each other's air.
“I just don't see why it's any of your business.” She pushed back.
Damon clenched his jaw. “Because you're my friend, damn it.”
Bonnie slowed down, glaring up at him from her 5’2 frame. If even possible, she comes closer, pushing herself against him. She wasn’t only angry anymore, she was dangerous. ”Let. Go.”
Damon just looked at her, not understanding how they landed her. Not just in the fight but everything. From enemies to… whatever they were now. He had called her friend but he didn’t even know if it fit them anymore.
His heart pounded in his ears and he didn't even know if it was because of the fight, the stress of his engagement or how he was itching for something he couldn’t name.
“Bonnie?”
A male voice came from the doorway of the kitchen and Damon’s heart froze while Bonnie stepped away like she had been burned.
Looking up, Damon makes eye contact with Matt Donovan.
He exhaled sharply, irritated.
“Is everything okay here or…?” Matt trailed off, voice hesitant, brows furrowed, blue eyes flicking between them both.
Bonnie sighed, and Damon watched as she pulled her cardigan tighter around herself, brushing that stray curl away from her face.
A small smile played on her lips. “Of course.” Is all she says, voice calm.
Liar, Damon thinks. But the way she said it—so sweetly, so smoothly, so composed—would have anyone fooled.
Without looking back, she brushes past Matt and leaves Damon stewing in his irritation.
Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “So… Elena was looking for you. It’s time for the cake.”
“Thanks, Quarterback.” Damon answers sarcastically.
He wasn’t like Bonnie. He made sure to slightly bump his shoulder against Matt’s out of pure pettiness before he left the kitchen and made way into the living room.
In the middle, a table is set up with a smiling Elena standing behind it, surrounded by everyone invited.
Bonnie was also there now, holding a glass of champagne and chattering with Caroline. She doesn’t even glance his way. Doesn’t even look the slightest bit affected by what just happened.
Damon’s fist clenched and he takes a deep breath before he moves to stand beside Elena, plastering on a smile.
“Hey!” She exclaims, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheek.
“Hey,” he forces out with almost the same level of enthusiasm.
He looked down at the decorated cake. Plates were stacked and real silver cutlery laid neatly beside it. The cake was heart shaped and covered in neat white buttercream sprayed around the text Just engaged written in cursive. At the curve of the heart, he notices that one of the butter cream dollops was smudged, his mind remembering Lizzie and Josie, and he sighs. The sweet smell from the dessert, the heat, and the previous argument left him feeling sticky.
Speaking of the twins, both come running in with Alaric slightly jogging after them, an exhausted look painted on his face. They both immediately run up to Damon and Elena. She eagerly greets them, kneeling down, ruffling hair and pinching cheeks.
“I hope you two haven’t been bothering your dad too much,” Elena jokes, voice full of affection while the sight made a sick feeling fill Damon’s stomach.
“We found the ring! We found the ring!” The children exclaim, jumping up and down. It was Josie who held the ring pinched tightly between two fingers.
Elena fake gasps in surprise. “Really? Thank you so much!” She grinned. “Think I can have it back now?”
To her surprise, Josie shook her head, clutching the ring to her chest. “I wanna’ see.”
Elena frowns. “See what, honey?”
Alaric, now beside Damon with his hands in his hips, sighs deeply. “They want to see a real proposal.”
“They want what now?” Damon starts, not being able to help the painful grimace on his face.
“And a kiss!” Lizzie chimes in, grinning with a tooth missing.
Damon doesn't even get the chance to come up with an excuse not to entertain this nonsense but Caroline slides in out of nowhere.
“What’s this I hear about a proposal and a kiss?”
Damon’s eyes widened. “Just kids being kids.” He huffed out a laugh, before he joins Elena by lowering himself to their eye level. “How about uncle Damon takes you for a spin in his cool car?” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.
The bait was not taken.
Both shook their heads, and Josie held the ring out. “I wanna’ see,” she insists.
Damon’s eye almost twitches.
He sighs, deciding just to get it over with, he snatches the ring out of the brats hand and rose, Elena following alongside.
Damon pinches the ring between two fingers, plastering on a big grin, while Elena stands right in front of him, amusement dancing in her eyes, holding a hand over her mouth to prevent laughter.
“Elena, we have—” Damon starts.
“What, no.” Caroline’s voice stops him, and it takes everything in him not to glare. “This has to be right. Get down on one knee.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary—” Damon starts, just to be hushed by her.
To make matters worse, Caroline holds up her champagne glass and grabs a spoon off the table and clinks it. The noise effectively draws attention from every single guest who had gathered in the living room.
Damon felt exposed and his body grew warmer from all the stares.
He catches Bonnie’s gaze for a second. She’s standing in the front row in between an all suited up Jeremy and a split eyed Stefan with his hands shoved into his black slacks, but she quickly looks down in her champagne glass.
Damon swallows down the sudden nerves, before he turns back to Elena whose expression has shifted into something more soft and warm instead of playful.
Damon sighs and gets down on one knee. “Elena Gilbert, I cannot imagine my life with anyone else.” The words felt false as they left his mouth, like he was preaching gospel for a God he didn’t believe in. “You make me feel…” Damon trailed off, stuck.
He didn’t know what Elena made him feel anymore.
She looked at him, calm and radiating, and Damon wanted to enjoy this with her.
He does love her.
This is just cold feet.
The Forbes living room is dead silent and he knows he has to continue. He swallows. “...You make me feel appreciated. And happy.” A small smile made its way onto his lips, this time a bit more genuine because what he said was true. “I do love you. Elena Gilbert, will you marry me?”
The room filled with low excited murmur.
“Yes!” Elena answers, and she sounds as happy as the first time, letting Damon grab her hand and slide the ring on. The room burst with life—cheers, some whistling and applause. The twins were giggling. holding each other and jumping up and down.
When Damon rises, Elena throws her arms around him and they sway around.
His gaze lifts and yet again, over Elena’s shoulder where Damon had his head tucked, they fall on Bonnie Bennett.
Except this time she wasn’t looking at him. She was frowning down into a now empty champagne glass.
He doesn’t have time to analyse her mood until Elena pulls back, grabs his face and pulls him into a kiss, to which the cheers in the room grew even louder.
Caroline claps her hands together, smiling. “Alright, gather around people. Time for the cake.”
People start moving in closer. Elena is still clutching him, hands moving up and down his arms, a fond smile on her lips.
“I love you,” she says, sincere and sweet. The words were like honey and poison all at once.
Damon knew he wouldn't be able to force the words out a second time so he simply raised a brow. “Is this you sweetening me up because you’re plotting to smash cake on my face? Which don’t by the way.” He jokes.
Elena laughed at that, and shook her head. “I’m saving that for the wedding.” And Damon just hums in acknowledgement.
The crowd gathered around, blocking his views and Damon tries not to look for her but fails completely.
With a pit in his stomach, a foul taste in his mouth, and an even heavier heart—Damon Salvatore watches as Bonnie Bennett leaves his engagement party without as much as a glance back or her own slice of cake.