Back in Ben and Jerry's land. A little ficlet filled with insecurity. I promise to do a full length fic of these two soon.
I Wanna Hold Your Hand
Jeremy was Elena's baby brother.
The little boy with buck teeth and a lazy eye that constantly blew spit wads thru a straw and into her hair while they rode to school in the Gilbert van. His face was often smeared with peanut butter or cheese doodle residue. She groaned whenever he appeared, because it usually signaled that play time was over and irritation would soon begin.
Things had changed and that was something Bonnie Bennett could no longer deny.
She had finally stopped responding to his requests for evenings shared just between them with, "But you're Elena's little brother." He had tried his best to mask the annoyance that he felt each and every time he was reminded that Elena was the oldest and he would always be the kid that Matt and Tyler patted on the head and kicked in the ass when they felt like it.
Now, Bonnie found her eyes lingered on Jeremy when he entered a room. She loved to watch him walk around barefoot, with a towel wrapped around his shoulders, furiously fighting to dry his hair. The low rise of his jeans revealed just enough of the smooth skin on his stomach, and if she was lucky the curve of his behind not hidden by the dark cotton boxers. No one noticed the way she sat up a little higher and chewed on the inside of her jaw while she admired his frame. She kept her adoration to a minimum during brainstorming sessions at the Salvatores. The last thing she needed was Damon's taunting over her ridiculous crush.
That was the only possible explanation – a crush – it couldn't be anything more.
He was cute – sweet – the first guy to make her smile for absolutely no reason at all.
They talked about magic, vampires, and werewolves, but that wasn't the only topics of conversation. He could recite Stewie's lines with epic precision and she was always countered with her best impression of Quagmire.
Jeremy would tease Bonnie about her total lack of skills at the pool table and she constantly reminded him that he was doomed to forever dance like a white boy.
She liked him – cared – not in the way she felt for Stefan, Matt, or Tyler.
This was something different.
Bonnie noticed the shift in her feelings when his hand first brushed hers on the ride home from the Masquerade Ball. Her heart fluttered and her palms began to sweat. Still she denied the inevitable, contemplating the start of something new with someone who understood her burden. Jeremy was always there in the back of her mind, tugging. She was reminded of that the day he urged her not to go to the tomb. He took her hand so naturally, entwining his fingers in hers and brushing his thumb against her palm. He traced her life – line, heart line, and drew tiny circles around each finger. He wasn't conscious of what he was doing.
She found excuses to provoke contact; storming off in the middle of a slightly heated discussion, knowing that he'd grab her hand and attempt to soothe the surge in her unfiltered emotions with tiny displays of random affection. She relished the moments and waited patiently for them to begin.
On movie nights her hand sat solemnly on top of her knee. She wiggled her fingers, occasionally poked his ribs, and all for the simple hope of gaining his attention and a moment of physical connection.
"Why don't you just ask me to hold your hand?"
Jeremy laced his fingers through Bonnie's and pulled her into his lap.
Yes – this was definitely something different.