[She's late, because she's always late even when she says she's on her way over. In hindsight, she should've waited another ten minutes to tell him, but she arrives at that front door and knocks on it.
Normally, she'd barge in and berate some life choices. Normally, she also wouldn't be so concerned. Whatever's got him in this foul a mood can't be good.]
[He's decided to just not answer the door, except his traitorous legs have already walked him over, and the hand not distracted by his liquor bottle is on the handle. (Why is he surprised? Everything betrays him in the end.)]
I think you've got the wrong house. The bachelor party is that way. [He gestures vaguely in some direction.] I didn't order any strippers.
[A very very tiny part of him feels a little bad about insulting her like that. Another part reminds him of all the lovely strippers he's known, some of whom he hadn't even killed. But mostly he wants her to go away because he's having a pity party and two's a crowd.]
[That would've almost been funny. Almost, because his mood must've been terrible for that kind of insult. She raises her eyebrows at him, before allowing herself into the Manor. God, it smells like bourbon, bourbon, and more bourbon.]
They couldn't afford me anyways.
[She pauses, turning around to face him. More seriously, because she's tired of their game,] What happened?
[You may be tired of the game, Bonnie, but that doesn't mean it's over. Damon has spent over a hundred years hiding his feelings in biting sarcasm and bitter humor. He doesn't really have any other way of processing them ... Well, unless you count liquor and blood victims.]
What happened? Well, you texted me, I texted back, you decided to come over and here you are. I thought I was supposed to be the blackout drunk. Don't tell me you're going senile already. You humans, you lose your minds so fast...
[She'll play along and huff and puff, even if her mock disgust doesn't reach her eyes. There's genuine worry as she glances down at that bottle.]
It's also a little early to be blackout drunk. [She thinks. In Mystic Falls, it's hard to tell.] I don't know about vampires but us mortals usually wait until after dinner.
[He can't help a bitter laugh, because that's probably the biggest lie he's ever told. He waited a hundred and fifty years for Katherine. He's been waiting for the past X years for Elena. Waiting like a pathetic lovelorn idiot is his one great talent.
That's not even why he's upset tonight, though it is a nice angst-cherry on the misery sundae. (Worst sundae ever.)
He shakes off the thoughts and takes another swig of the bourbon, only to find the bottle empty.]
I'm going to open another bottle. Do you want a glass, or will we pass the bottle between us like tweens who stole one from their parent's liquor cabinet?
She can't find the heart - or the energy - to say it out loud. Instead, she says as she heads over to the nearest couch and flops on it,] We can pass the bottle. But no spinning it either.
[Not that he'd think about it when they've got big Gilbert-shaped reasons (and a town to save, usually on Thursday evenings). Old Bonnie would've loved to drink and drink and pass out on some hot guy's couch, but this Bonnie's concerned more for her friend.
Maybe she should admit that she considers him one, when she's not so worried about his Mood.]
[Her response takes him a little by surprise — he's always considered her a bit of a goody-two-shoes.] Why Miss Bonnie, I do declare! [He waggles his eyebrows suggestively before grabbing another bottle from the liquor cabinet. Opens it, takes a swig, then passes it over to the younger woman.
The best way to avoid having her poke into his open wounds is to just not talk, but Damon has never been good at silence. He needs chatter and noise to keep from drowning in his own mind.]
Bit unusual, having you for a drinking partner. Don't tell me you have guy problems. [Has he ever actually seen her with a guy? Jeremy hardly counts.] Or girl problems — no judgements.
[Her eyes light up at his suggestion before she remembers, she's supposed to protect him from himself. Accepting the bottle, she takes the tiniest of sips. She can't exactly drink her sorrows away when she's still mortal. And you know, underage.]
Stranger things've happened around here. [She shrugs, handing the bottle back to him like it's no big deal. It totally is, because she's usually not drinking at this hour.] Mm, I've got a bit of a guy problem. More like a... friendship problem than a romance problem, but it's there.
[So the little witch does like to party ... even if she's not letting herself. The things you learn about people when you're not arguing about Caroline or killing people to protect Elena or magic or ... all the other things they argue about. Although Bonnie doesn't argue so much as avoid and Stare Disapprovingly, like she's the only actual adult in their whole group of ... people bound together by attachments so complex, it makes the alliances that led to World War I look simple.
Anyway. He doesn't know why he's filing that information away. There's a long list of women Damon can use to forget his problems and Bonnie is very much not on it. The women he gets involved with invariably betray him or just end up dead, and Elena would never forgive him if something happened to her favorite witch. Wait, no, best friend ... Elena isn't like Katherine, who played the good friend when it was convenient but really just wanted to use them. Elena genuinely cares about her friends, even when it seems she's forgotten about them.
Thankfully she starts talking and gives him something to focus on other than the mad swirl of his thoughts. He practically cuts off the end of her sentence.]
BOR-ING! [Glugs, then passes the bottle back to her.] Come on, gimme something with a little juice. This isn't the Babysitter's Club. [He sighs dramatically and throws himself on the sofa.] But fine, if you must. [gesturing for her to take a seat] Tell me about your "friendship problem".
[Friendship is anything but boring!! Her life is nothing but friendship trouble, especially since she's lost her trust in Jeremy. Sure, they're starting anew, but she can't deny how tenuous that second chance is. He's not the guy she thought he was. (Is she the girl he wanted?) Whatever drama she has with Jeremy, it pales next to her platonic woes.
She scoffs at him, sitting down beside him and taking a swig of the bottle. No real, letting loose drinking - she's not sixteen anymore, and this isn't Lockwood Cider that knocked her out for two whole days.
Nope, this is genuine bourbon, and she doesn't want to lose what little control she has over her thoughts.] Okay, well...
I've been worrying a lot about him lately. [There, she said it, out in the open.] Every time something goes wrong, or something doesn't go quite the way he imagine it, he'll go off and do something dumb. I can't always be there to pull him back.
[She pauses, taking another sip before handing it back to him.] He won't tell me what happened, either. Usually, I have to figure it out from texts or verbal cues or, I don't know, little things rather than him just spitting it out.
Here's what I don't understand about women. Why do you go through all the effort of playing psychic detective? Obsessing over little signals, divining meaning from tea leaves and text messages. [He scoffs and drinks.] Guy sounds like a dick. Let him figure out his own damn problems.
Especially if it's that Matt guy. Can't stand him. [He's like a human Stefan -- all moral and loyal and good. Damon hates looking at his stupid face and knowing that he is another man Elena would pick over him.]
[Ohhh wow. Bonnie blinks back surprise, sitting up a little straighter as she regards him with new eyes. Her Damon - wait, her Damon? She technically doesn't give a damn about him. Stefan cares more for him than she would. Vampires were the scum of the Earth, people like Damon were scum, ergo... She wasn't sure what she believed anymore.
What she did know: she was worried, and he wasn't even remotely getting the hint. She gently nudges his arm for the bottle.]
One, Matt and I are on great terms, and two, not exactly. This guy only thinks he's a dick. Big difference.
[An important one too, because she remembers the Miss Mystic Falls pageant, and him talking down a ravenous Stefan. If he really were a douche, she wouldn't be here beside him, trying to discern what has him so mad this week.]
Edited (icon fail) Date: 2016-03-25 04:18 am (UTC)
Well, like my daddy always said, you are what you think. Of course, the expression is "you are what you eat" but if that was true I'd be a sexy blonde with a D cup.
[He passes her the bottle, still trying to figure out who she's talking about. He doesn't keep the closest tabs on Bonnie, but it's a small town; there really aren't that many guys who'd fit her description. Stefan, maybe? Except for all his self-loathing, Damon can't imagine his brother thinking of himself as a "dick." He was the tragic hero, the good guy, the favored son.]
Anyway, my point still stands. Let him figure out his own damn problems. Don't waste your time on people who wouldn't give you the time of day.
[He's not actually thinking about Katherine or Elena when he says this ... He's thinking about his father.]
Ewwww. [She scowls at that (disgusting) mental image, taking a larger sip than usual. That sorority girl sure sounds classy, or maybe she should be pinning more of the blame on Damon since chase, snatch, feed, compel was in full effect there.
Quietly, staring down at his ring as she places the bottle back in his hands,] Except he does. He's always cared, way more than Jeremy or Matt or...
[Or Stefan, she wants to admit. As much as she likes Stefan, their relationship was mostly business. They check in with each other only when the going gets rough]
Or other people have. [...] So maybe I want to help him figure out his stupid problems, okay?
No, I used to hate you. [She's still looking down at his ring, as if memorizing every detail of it to heart.] Big difference there.
[She should probably go, or pretend that Jeremy's calling her or - or something, because she hadn't meant for it to slip out so easily. But she's frozen there, daring to finally make eye contact and try (really try) to look like it didn't terrify her to admit it.]
[He can tell that the admission terrifies her, the way a predator can always sense weakness. The thought of inching closer to her and taking advantage of this expressed sentiment is beyond tempting.]
You should go back to hating me. It's the smart thing to do. [Because god, it is taking all of his willpower to put some distance between them. He's drunk, she's beautiful and vulnerable; the situation practically begs for him to make a move on her. If it had been any other night, or if he had been drunk for any other reason, he might not have been able to resist.
[Just like that, the fear's gone. She cares for him - all of him, not this angst-y, wallowing kind of pity. Elena might've reveled in it. (Elena always did go for dark, brooding boys, especially in her fiction.) She wasn't Elena, though, because she rises to her feet and holds out a palm like she's about to give him one of those infamous aneurysms...
It never manifests, because she's got more control over herself than she thinks, even with the bourbon.] No way. I didn't drive myself all the way out here for you to send me back home like some sorority girl.
[She snaps her fingers, summoning herself a glass of ice water. Which she sips with relish as she looks at him with her usual Disapproving Stare.]
So you're going to tell me what Elena said - or did - this time, and I'm going to listen to every single word.
This has nothing to do with Elena. [For once. And what a sad commentary on his life that is.
He's determined to let the subject die right there, but Bonnie is clearly having none of it — that Disapproving Stare of hers is in full force.]
I'm serious. This has absolutely nothing to do with Elena. There is nothing you need to worry about.
[And still she's Disapproving Stare-ing him. He wonders if it's some kind of witch-y power, the ability to get under his skin like that, because she's 17 and he's 150 years old, he should be stronger than this. (Then again, the same thing could be said about Elena. Maybe he really is just a loser.)]
FINE! [He throws his hands up in surrender.] You wanna know what's wrong? I found some old letters my father wrote me. Reading them made me a little ... emotional. [He says it sarcastically, like he doesn't really mean it, the letters didn't really effect them, except the truth is too obvious to hide.]
[Under normal circumstances, she would've relished in the truth. Normal circumstances also meant Elena-shaped trouble (or worse, Katherine-shaped trouble).
She can handle Elena Moods: she can tease him or say something that might put the pressure off for another week. But when he mentions his father, her heart runs cold. Papa Salvatore had chosen to kill his sons, rather than have children who sympathized with vampires. Whatever in those letters couldn't have been worthwhile. No wonder he's in such a Mood.]
He was your father. You're allowed to feel emotional.
Oh, well, thank you for the permission to have feelings. You are too kind.
[He takes a drink, planning on letting that scathing comment be the end of the conversation. Except she's radiating compassion and he can't stand it. He doesn't deserve her compassion, not after everything he's done. He needs to nip that emotion in the bud.
He rolls off the couch and goes over to the desk, where he had tossed the letters.] Let's see ... Dear Damon, I heard you fought bravely at the Battle of Something or Another. You have served the Confederacy well. I'm proud of you, son.
He never actually sent any of these. I'm surprised he didn't burn them after I left the army. I guess he wanted to rub it in my face.
[Taking another swig of his drink, he hurls the letters into the fireplace ... then drunkenly realizes there's no fire going. Damn it. A good dramatic moment ruined. This night sucks.]
He probably didn't want to. [Maybe he was proud of Damon, if only for a brief moment. Bonnie's face falls at those implications - that Papa Salvatore was proud of the Confederacy and those slavery rights - but she sobers up fast and rises to her feet.
Clasping her hands together, she murmurs,] No use dwelling on that, right? Phasmatos Incendia.
[The first letter catches on fire. It hovers there, rather than moving from letter to letter, and it soon becomes obvious why - Bonnie's holding her full power back with an outstretched hand. She may not care for its contents, but if he wants to keep them? She'll pull back, no questions asked.]
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Date: 2016-03-21 04:52 am (UTC)Normally, she'd barge in and berate some life choices. Normally, she also wouldn't be so concerned. Whatever's got him in this foul a mood can't be good.]
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Date: 2016-03-23 12:57 am (UTC)I think you've got the wrong house. The bachelor party is that way. [He gestures vaguely in some direction.] I didn't order any strippers.
[A very very tiny part of him feels a little bad about insulting her like that. Another part reminds him of all the lovely strippers he's known, some of whom he hadn't even killed. But mostly he wants her to go away because he's having a pity party and two's a crowd.]
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Date: 2016-03-23 03:30 am (UTC)They couldn't afford me anyways.
[She pauses, turning around to face him. More seriously, because she's tired of their game,] What happened?
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Date: 2016-03-23 04:02 am (UTC)What happened? Well, you texted me, I texted back, you decided to come over and here you are. I thought I was supposed to be the blackout drunk. Don't tell me you're going senile already. You humans, you lose your minds so fast...
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Date: 2016-03-23 04:45 am (UTC)It's also a little early to be blackout drunk. [She thinks. In Mystic Falls, it's hard to tell.] I don't know about vampires but us mortals usually wait until after dinner.
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Date: 2016-03-23 04:53 am (UTC)[He can't help a bitter laugh, because that's probably the biggest lie he's ever told. He waited a hundred and fifty years for Katherine. He's been waiting for the past X years for Elena. Waiting like a pathetic lovelorn idiot is his one great talent.
That's not even why he's upset tonight, though it is a nice angst-cherry on the misery sundae. (Worst sundae ever.)
He shakes off the thoughts and takes another swig of the bourbon, only to find the bottle empty.]
I'm going to open another bottle. Do you want a glass, or will we pass the bottle between us like tweens who stole one from their parent's liquor cabinet?
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Date: 2016-03-23 06:25 am (UTC)She can't find the heart - or the energy - to say it out loud. Instead, she says as she heads over to the nearest couch and flops on it,] We can pass the bottle. But no spinning it either.
[Not that he'd think about it when they've got big Gilbert-shaped reasons (and a town to save, usually on Thursday evenings). Old Bonnie would've loved to drink and drink and pass out on some hot guy's couch, but this Bonnie's concerned more for her friend.
Maybe she should admit that she considers him one, when she's not so worried about his Mood.]
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Date: 2016-03-23 01:38 pm (UTC)The best way to avoid having her poke into his open wounds is to just not talk, but Damon has never been good at silence. He needs chatter and noise to keep from drowning in his own mind.]
Bit unusual, having you for a drinking partner. Don't tell me you have guy problems. [Has he ever actually seen her with a guy? Jeremy hardly counts.] Or girl problems — no judgements.
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Date: 2016-03-24 05:41 am (UTC)Stranger things've happened around here. [She shrugs, handing the bottle back to him like it's no big deal. It totally is, because she's usually not drinking at this hour.] Mm, I've got a bit of a guy problem. More like a... friendship problem than a romance problem, but it's there.
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Date: 2016-03-24 07:17 pm (UTC)Anyway. He doesn't know why he's filing that information away. There's a long list of women Damon can use to forget his problems and Bonnie is very much not on it. The women he gets involved with invariably betray him or just end up dead, and Elena would never forgive him if something happened to her favorite witch. Wait, no, best friend ... Elena isn't like Katherine, who played the good friend when it was convenient but really just wanted to use them. Elena genuinely cares about her friends, even when it seems she's forgotten about them.
Thankfully she starts talking and gives him something to focus on other than the mad swirl of his thoughts. He practically cuts off the end of her sentence.]
BOR-ING! [Glugs, then passes the bottle back to her.] Come on, gimme something with a little juice. This isn't the Babysitter's Club. [He sighs dramatically and throws himself on the sofa.] But fine, if you must. [gesturing for her to take a seat] Tell me about your "friendship problem".
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Date: 2016-03-25 03:52 am (UTC)She scoffs at him, sitting down beside him and taking a swig of the bottle. No real, letting loose drinking - she's not sixteen anymore, and this isn't Lockwood Cider that knocked her out for two whole days.
Nope, this is genuine bourbon, and she doesn't want to lose what little control she has over her thoughts.] Okay, well...
I've been worrying a lot about him lately. [There, she said it, out in the open.] Every time something goes wrong, or something doesn't go quite the way he imagine it, he'll go off and do something dumb. I can't always be there to pull him back.
[She pauses, taking another sip before handing it back to him.] He won't tell me what happened, either. Usually, I have to figure it out from texts or verbal cues or, I don't know, little things rather than him just spitting it out.
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Date: 2016-03-25 04:07 am (UTC)Especially if it's that Matt guy. Can't stand him. [He's like a human Stefan -- all moral and loyal and good. Damon hates looking at his stupid face and knowing that he is another man Elena would pick over him.]
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Date: 2016-03-25 04:17 am (UTC)What she did know: she was worried, and he wasn't even remotely getting the hint. She gently nudges his arm for the bottle.]
One, Matt and I are on great terms, and two, not exactly. This guy only thinks he's a dick. Big difference.
[An important one too, because she remembers the Miss Mystic Falls pageant, and him talking down a ravenous Stefan. If he really were a douche, she wouldn't be here beside him, trying to discern what has him so mad this week.]
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Date: 2016-03-25 10:05 pm (UTC)[He passes her the bottle, still trying to figure out who she's talking about. He doesn't keep the closest tabs on Bonnie, but it's a small town; there really aren't that many guys who'd fit her description. Stefan, maybe? Except for all his self-loathing, Damon can't imagine his brother thinking of himself as a "dick." He was the tragic hero, the good guy, the favored son.]
Anyway, my point still stands. Let him figure out his own damn problems. Don't waste your time on people who wouldn't give you the time of day.
[He's not actually thinking about Katherine or Elena when he says this ... He's thinking about his father.]
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Date: 2016-03-26 12:00 am (UTC)Quietly, staring down at his ring as she places the bottle back in his hands,] Except he does. He's always cared, way more than Jeremy or Matt or...
[Or Stefan, she wants to admit. As much as she likes Stefan, their relationship was mostly business. They check in with each other only when the going gets rough]
Or other people have. [...] So maybe I want to help him figure out his stupid problems, okay?
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Date: 2016-03-26 01:57 am (UTC)So what are you doing here? Go help him.
[Go help this person and leave Damon to wallow.]
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Date: 2016-03-26 06:14 am (UTC)It'd be a lot easier if he'd let me. [Pretense officially dropped.] You're really something, you know that?
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Date: 2016-03-27 01:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 02:59 am (UTC)[She should probably go, or pretend that Jeremy's calling her or - or something, because she hadn't meant for it to slip out so easily. But she's frozen there, daring to finally make eye contact and try (really try) to look like it didn't terrify her to admit it.]
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Date: 2016-03-29 12:33 am (UTC)You should go back to hating me. It's the smart thing to do. [Because god, it is taking all of his willpower to put some distance between them. He's drunk, she's beautiful and vulnerable; the situation practically begs for him to make a move on her. If it had been any other night, or if he had been drunk for any other reason, he might not have been able to resist.
More or less fortunately, tonight is different.]
You should go home.
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Date: 2016-03-29 05:01 am (UTC)It never manifests, because she's got more control over herself than she thinks, even with the bourbon.] No way. I didn't drive myself all the way out here for you to send me back home like some sorority girl.
[She snaps her fingers, summoning herself a glass of ice water. Which she sips with relish as she looks at him with her usual Disapproving Stare.]
So you're going to tell me what Elena said - or did - this time, and I'm going to listen to every single word.
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Date: 2016-03-29 11:16 pm (UTC)This has nothing to do with Elena. [For once. And what a sad commentary on his life that is.
He's determined to let the subject die right there, but Bonnie is clearly having none of it — that Disapproving Stare of hers is in full force.]
I'm serious. This has absolutely nothing to do with Elena. There is nothing you need to worry about.
[And still she's Disapproving Stare-ing him. He wonders if it's some kind of witch-y power, the ability to get under his skin like that, because she's 17 and he's 150 years old, he should be stronger than this. (Then again, the same thing could be said about Elena. Maybe he really is just a loser.)]
FINE! [He throws his hands up in surrender.] You wanna know what's wrong? I found some old letters my father wrote me. Reading them made me a little ... emotional. [He says it sarcastically, like he doesn't really mean it, the letters didn't really effect them, except the truth is too obvious to hide.]
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Date: 2016-03-30 04:57 am (UTC)She can handle Elena Moods: she can tease him or say something that might put the pressure off for another week. But when he mentions his father, her heart runs cold. Papa Salvatore had chosen to kill his sons, rather than have children who sympathized with vampires. Whatever in those letters couldn't have been worthwhile. No wonder he's in such a Mood.]
He was your father. You're allowed to feel emotional.
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Date: 2016-03-30 08:29 pm (UTC)[He takes a drink, planning on letting that scathing comment be the end of the conversation. Except she's radiating compassion and he can't stand it. He doesn't deserve her compassion, not after everything he's done. He needs to nip that emotion in the bud.
He rolls off the couch and goes over to the desk, where he had tossed the letters.] Let's see ... Dear Damon, I heard you fought bravely at the Battle of Something or Another. You have served the Confederacy well. I'm proud of you, son.
He never actually sent any of these. I'm surprised he didn't burn them after I left the army. I guess he wanted to rub it in my face.
[Taking another swig of his drink, he hurls the letters into the fireplace ... then drunkenly realizes there's no fire going. Damn it. A good dramatic moment ruined. This night sucks.]
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Date: 2016-03-30 09:54 pm (UTC)Clasping her hands together, she murmurs,] No use dwelling on that, right? Phasmatos Incendia.
[The first letter catches on fire. It hovers there, rather than moving from letter to letter, and it soon becomes obvious why - Bonnie's holding her full power back with an outstretched hand. She may not care for its contents, but if he wants to keep them? She'll pull back, no questions asked.]
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