Promises

Hello lovely readers! It's been quite a while...how's everyone doing? Here is the sequel to my story Resurrection! Just a series of one-shots leading up to the wedding.

Bonnie wanted a quiet wedding.

"We get enough excitement in our every day lives," she told Damon one night.

She entwined their legs as they lay on Damon's bed. Bonnie had been sure it wouldn't fit in the master bedroom of her house, but somehow he'd manage. Now the room was almost as empty as his room in the boarding house used to be- just a bed, television, and two night tables on both sides of the bed.

"I don't like clutter anyways," he had said when she came home from Sheila's- the shop, not her late grandmother's house. He gave her a pointed look. Bonnie grinned sheepishly, imagining the disarray her old room was in.

"I'm a witch," she replied as she wound her arms around Damon's waist and rested her chin on his shoulder. "You can't blame me."

He frowned despite the creeping hand making its way underneath his undershirt. "I can do whatever I want to you."

He scooped her up into his arms and she squealed as she was thrown onto the pillow mattress. They made good use of the relocated bed that night. And nearly every night afterwards.

Case in point? Right before Bonnie told him she wanted a quiet wedding.

"Weddings aren't supposed to be quiet. They're supposed to be loud and disorderly," Damon argued. He laid flat on his back, left arm behind his head, right arm curled around Bonnie; he traced circles on her naked back.

"We don't have enough friends for a loud, disorderly wedding." Bonnie gazed at her engagement ring; the emerald centerpiece winked at her under the moonlight that streamed through the window.

The bed shifted and suddenly Damon was on top of her, gluing his drying skin to hers. "That's what you said three years ago. And two years before that. If I didn't know better I'd say you were stalling."

"We wouldn't be in the midst of a five-year engagement if someone didn't want a crowd."

The tip of his nose grazed along her throat and sent shivers down her spine. "I want everyone to see how beautiful you are, and that you belong to me."

The back of Damon's neck felt like a pot of coffee rewarming under her palm. His mouth was the spout pouring caffeine anywhere he could reach.

"I don't belong to anyone," Bonnie husked.

Damon pinched the inside of her thigh. She bit her lip.

"I belong to you."

Bonnie smiled. "That was your choice, not mine."

Damon's eyes gleamed in the dark as a cloud casted a shadow over the moon. "I'm going to make you regret that."

Sheila's didn't open until noon the next day.

Fluff. Sweet fluff.

:)