#mmam bamon

“I don’t want to talk about it, it was an assumption.”

“You don’t strike me as a person who just assumes things.”

“You don’t know me.”

“So that isn’t true?”

“What isn’t true?”

“Everything.”

“What are you even talking about?!”

“I don’t know, I got confused halfway. Look, man-“ He immediately regretted it, he sent her an apologetic look “-I mean woman.” Bonnie rolled her eyes to oblivion, this guy. “I’m just trying to get some gossip about my own baby brother, is that really so bad?”

“Yes!” Bonnie exclaimed. “And he’s not a baby.”

“Look at him!” Damon pointed over to a busy Stefan who was totally unaware of anything happening. “Look at that sweet baby face and tell me I’m wrong.”

“His cheeks are kinda puffy… Never mind! We’re not talking about this, Damon!”

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https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13212484/4/Meet-me-at-midnight

Halfway down, Bonnie finally gathered enough courage to look around and register the number of people. She wished she hadn’t, the place was brimming with chatter, men in tight tuxes who looked like they couldn’t breathe in them and women in night gowns, not doing much movement as to not ruin their hair/makeup/gowns. One face stood out to her in particular.

There he was, in all his glory, with a smug smile plastered all over his face. 

Damon Salvatore.

And unlike earlier when Enzo made actual physical contact with her, her heart skipped a little beat.

It had to be the champagne.

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He reached down for her hand, catching her completely off guard. Her breath stopped in her lungs, her heart racing like crazy at the proximity.

“Dance with me Bonnie.”

The way he said it implied that it wasn’t a question, it felt like dancing with him was exactly what she had to be doing and anything else was not nearly important enough.”

“You know how to dance?” She raised her brows in amusement.

He smirked at her, leading her on to the dancefloor that was already filled with twirling couples in beautiful gowns and tuxes.

“Bonnie, please. I’ve had a cotillion dance every year since I was 13, knowing how to waltz was a right of passage in my world.”

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