A/N: I've been sick for a while now and have decided to turn my cooped-up frustration into creativity. I did promise a fast update and here we are ;) Two in the space of a day.

This is pretty fluffy, inspired by To All the Boys I've Loved Before. I'm not super happy with it but I hope it will make you smile. The next chapter will be particularly angsty and I am sooooo excited to write it. Until then, enjoy Bamon being Bamon: in denial.

(Canon apart from no Elena and Stefan isn't dead. Yay. I've also tried to write both perspectives at the same time rather than alternating like usual. Undecided if it worked or not.)

ii. Pretence

Damon lowers his book at the witch's aggressive intrusion. He peers over the spine, "What's got you in a grump?"

Bonnie slumps into the cushions, scowling like a petulant child. It's quite amusing. "Caroline." She lifts a brow to his equally dejected posture. "And you?"

"Stefan."

The witch groans. "I don't understand why they can't just let us be. I mean, I'm perfectly happy on my own."

Damon folds the corner of his book page. "Just as I happen to like being a moody bachelor without ties."

"Exactly!" She debates whether to expand or not, then, deciding she needs someone to rant to, adds, "Caroline put me on a dating app."

The vampire releases a low whistle. "Bet all the old farts loved you."

"Rude," Bonnie retorts, leaning across the cushions to flick him, "A lot of them were actually pretty cute."

"But?"

"But I'd rather not go to my best friend's anniversary party with a stranger from the internet."

They sit in agreeable silence for a while until Damon says, "You realise they're not going to stop until we find someone, right?"

"I'm beginning to." The weight of his stare lingers and Bonnie glares at him, "What?"

"Nothing, nothing," he hums, privately enjoying the witch's paranoia.

"Damon Salvatore. What?"

"Nothing. It was just a stupid idea."

"Tell me," Bonnie demands, definitely not in the mood for Salvatore playtime.

He feigns indifference, walking his fingers over the top of the couch in boredom. "They'd never believe it."

"What!?" She's irritated now; Damon relents before things get ugly.

"What if we went together?"

She shifts on the pillow to stare at him. "I don't understand."

"You know like together, together only… fake. We'll be pretending."

"Pretending to date?"

"It's stupid, right. We could never pull it off."

He chews on his cheek, fixated by the fireplace, waiting for her answer. Bonnie fights a laugh. "Damon, I can't believe I'm saying this but… that's genius."

"Really!?" It it's a rare occurrence: Bonnie praising him. "I mean, yeah, obviously."

"But…," her brow folds in thought, "I have a few ground rules."

"Shocking."

Bonnie throws him her best 'I'm serious' expression. "No… kissing or anything."

"Bold of you to assume I'd even want to." He pushes at the strands on his forehead, a smirk tickling the corner of his lip, "So, when are we telling the other Salvatore's, babe?"

"Ew, no way. No 'babe'."

Damon's eyes crinkle with amusement. Already, this is shaping up to be his best idea yet. "What am I supposed to call you?"

"What did you used to call Elena?"

The memory of his past relationship stings a little. "Er, just Elena, I guess." God, we were boring.

She thinks for a moment; he already has so many nicknames, it's like he enjoys flirting with her name, spinning it longer, shorter, how it sounds on his tongue. "I think Bon-bon's fine."

He doesn't realise he's smirking until she says, "What?" in her defensive way.

"I knew you liked being called that."

"Shut up," she eye-rolls.

Damon wags a finger. "Nuh, uh. If we're going to be convincing, we need to look the picture of love. That means no 'shut ups' or 'asshole' or 'dick'," another smirk, "Unless…"

"Ground rules. No."

"I'm joking. Chillax. This will be fun."

And, whilst Damon beams internally with the promise of embarrassing, flirting, and making her squirm, Bonnie wonders what the hell she's got herself into.

/

When Damon told Stefan his date was going to be Bonnie, the man merely lifted an eyebrow.

"What? No shock? No cries of 'no don't corrupt our dear, saviour Bonnie'?"

The former vampire only held up a tie. "Red or blue?"

"Stefan."

His brother sighed. "Damon, you and Bonnie, it was inevitable. You've always had a connection."

"What connection?" Damon hurried then back-tracked, "I mean, yeah, it's electric."

And Bonnie too experienced a similar reaction from Caroline: the blonde's mouth folding smugly, an expression that said, I knew it.

"Is it really that unsurprising?"

"Honestly, I'm more surprised by how long it took. I kind of expected you two to start fucking as soon as Elena dumped Damon."

Bonnie's eyes bulged at that.

"They're crazy," Damon says now, phone balanced between ear and shoulder as he attempts to stuff his toes into patent dress shoes. "You know, Bon, you should really be helping me find an outfit. As my girlfriend and everything." His lip curls with the image of her reaction.

"Yes, because finding a suit is so strenuous," is her expectedly snarky reply.

"It's hard finding one that looks good," he whines to his reflection (because he's not so proud to not fish for compliments.)

"Oh please, you know you look good in a suit," she quips and his mouth twitches with a smile.

"Are you flirting with me, Bon-bon?"

"And I'm hanging up."

Bonnie cuts him off mid-chuckle. It's two days until the party and nerves are already making their unwelcomed home in her stomach. She shouldn't be anxious. Not really. It's Damon, for goodness sake. Her somewhat problematic best friend. But… it's also the fact that it's Damon, in all his unpredictability, that makes her so jittery. Not to mention, they'll have an audience: Matt and Rick and friends from Whitmore, observing them.

I should have just found a dude from online.

At four pm, the demanding vampire pings across her phone screen, ordering her to pick up a parcel from the front step. Grumbling, Bonnie unpeels herself from the couch and shuffles across the hall to open the front door.

The box is square and white and tied with an illustrious black bow. She toes it with her slipper, half expecting something to jump out and terrify her. Nothing. It's only when she bends towards it for closer inspection that she notices a gold label that reads: To match my tie. Bonnie flips it over: And your eyes.

Rolling said eyes at the cliché, Bonnie scoops the box from the step and edges back inside. She places the box on the coffee table and maybe there's just a little bit of intrigue there? It's been a while since her wardrobe acquired a new garment.

With quiet excitement, she unties the bow and eases off the lid. A gasp falls from her mouth. Elena would always gush over how lavish Damon's gifts were but this… this is just unnecessary.

Fifteen minutes later, she sends him a text:

Damon, the dress is too much.

He replies instantly:

Have you tried it on?

Yes.

And?

It's beautiful but I can't accept it.

Don't be stupid, you need to look in my league ;)

Bonnie touches the silk again. It's green, not a colour she would usually go for, but, Damon's right, it does match her eyes. She felt pretty, beautiful even, and the knowledge that he chose it specially makes her feel oddly fluttery – something like excitement coalescing with all those nerves. Weird.

/

Someone's taking their sweet time. Damon shoves his hand on the horn again. Is she deaf? Growing irritable just sitting in his car, the vampire probes the driver's door handle and steps onto the street, his suffocating patent brougue-things squeaking with the effort. Time is money, Bon-bon, he thinks, marching up to her house and raising a hand to bang on it.

The motion matches Bonnie's – she opens the door to his raised arm and mildly pissed off scowl. "Wow, impatient much," she grumbles but his irritation's dissolved, along with any thought other than damn.

It takes a moment before she understands this is him checking her out. His eyes roam slowly over her frame, pausing for breath on her cleavage before widening at her face in surprise. Bonnie wonders if she should be offended. Does she really look that bad usually?

"Um, are we done gawking?"

Damon's jaw re-aligns. "I wasn't gawking," he lies, fighting the blush with gritted teeth. It really is unfortunate that he still manages to do that… being dead and all.

Bonnie's face dimples with amusement. She pulls the door to a close and begins making her way to the car, throwing an innocent, "Well, you chose the dress," over her shoulder with satisfaction.

He animates a second later, jogging to beat her to the car door. "Let me get that for you, Bon-bon," he charms.

She quirks a brow. "Is this what it's going to be like? Mr Chivalry all night?"

"Is that a bad thing?"

Bonnie sweeps over his sharp features, the teasing smirk, and that suit – a Salvatore in a suit really is something else – and decides, "No. I could get used to it."

"Good. Because I want my girlfriend to be happy." He says it so flippantly, they both stall: Damon, at how natural it sounded, Bonnie, at how fluttery (again!) it made her feel.

The vampire climbs into the driver's seat and reassures that he's just getting into the role; the witch smooths the folds in her green dress and blames it on the anticipation of pretence.

"I think we need a game plan," Damon announces later, pulling into the car park. The party's at the Country Hall, barely recognisable now with all the twinkling and sparkling emanating from the walls. Caroline's decked the whole damn thing out in string lights – he squints at the sight.

Bonnie turns from the window. "What did you have in mind?"

"Hand-holding. You know, for when we walk in."

"So romantic," she teases.

"Is that a no?"

The flickering glow catches in her eye-roll. "I think I can manage holding your hand without being too disgusted."

"Great," he leans back into the car's soft leather, "Got any other bright ideas?"

"Maybe like… whispering?"

Damon snorts. "What?"

"Like private jokes, that kind of thing," she finishes, regretting saying anything at all.

The vampire widens his eyes in understanding. "Stefan already thinks we do that."

"Well, there we go. We just need to look… couple-y."

Damon glances at his watch. "Ten to. You ready, Bon-bon?"

She looks nervous, a strained smile stretching her pretty mouth. He reaches to pat her knee, "We got this."

He exits the car first, lifting an amicable hand at several well-dressed couples. No idea who the fuck you are. Damon swings round to the other side, fingers on the handle, and hesitates – Bonnie is chewing on her nails, terrified, poor thing. She senses his stare and smiles again, equally as strained. Damon rolls his eyes and yanks open the door, "You know, we'll be a lot more convincing if you don't look like you want to run away."

"I'm not used to doing this," she admits, "Lying."

"Well, Bon-bon, good job we're learning to live a little." He flashes a mischievous grin and her stomach tumbles (can it stop doing that?). She blinks at his outstretched hand, pale, slender fingers waiting for hers.

Show-time.

There's at once a comforting familiarity and foreign wildness to holding Bonnie's hand. He swings their arms to shake it away – the former or latter, he doesn't know, whatever one's worse. The building glows, inviting in its warmth, and Damon's almost excited… celebrating his brother's marriage, spending the night with his best friend. Life has been worse, he smiles, a little astounded, when he thinks, has it ever been better?

The movement of his thumb across the back of her hand is nice, comforting. The sweeping sensation it sends to her stomach is just hunger, she needs a snack. Bonnie smiles at the other couples, recognising a few faces from lectures or high school dances. Their eyes fall to her entwinned hand and Damon tightens around her fingers. Rick, who is hovering by the door with a cigarette, calls them over.

"Damon! Bonnie!"

She expects the vampire to drop her hand when he embraces his friend but it remains attached to hers, thumb still brushing against her skin. Rick notices and grins, patting Damon on the back.

"Nice to see you finally make a move," he chuckles.

"She took a lot of winning over," Damon jokes, settling into his role easily. He slides his gaze to Bonnie, wondering how she'll react, but to his delight, she's eye-rolling, playing along.

"I said yes just to shut him up," she says dryly and Rick laughs.

"With Damon, I don't blame you."

They say their goodbyes and continue their advances into the hall, Damon, once again, near blinded by the exuberance of string lights. Blondie really is something else. Several tables are scattered around the room, draped in ivy and candles and he's near-convinced he's taken a time-machine to three years ago.

He lowers towards Bonnie's ear. "Is it just me, or have we done this before?"

Her chuckle pleases him. "You know, Caroline. One wedding isn't enough."

Damon has a point though; the word extra comes to Bonnie's mind. Still, she spots the couple in the corner, toasting to one another and entertaining a small cluster of guests, she's happy. After all the shit they've been through, they're more than allowed to be greedy with their happiness. Her mouth curves with the realisation that she's pretty happy right now too.

"Bonnie!" She turns to see a tall girl in a pixie crop rushing over to her.

"Alison! Wow, you look great."

"And you. It's been ages," she twists her grin to Damon, eyebrow raised expectantly, "Hi, I'm Alison. Bonnie and I had Art History together at Whitmore."

"Damon," he says tightly (because he's never been the warmest at meeting new people). Her smile loosens and Bonnie quickly asks another question, leaving him to study the hall, attached to her hand like some sort of estranged limb. He hasn't felt like this since Elena. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he leans towards her and says softly, "I'll get you a drink". Bonnie inclines her head to thank him and he kisses her cheek, just like that, fuck. He expects her to glare but her eyes merely swell a little in surprise and then she's turning back to Allison, who is commenting on how cute they both are.

It's sickening and none of this is real but… he finds himself agreeing.

Stefan joins at him the bar with a nudge. "You and Bon look cosy."

Damon gestures around the hall, the extravagance of it all, "Like you can talk."

"True." He frowns for a moment, subsiding into serious Stefan, "Seriously though, I'm happy for you. I really am."

"Thanks, brother," he says, unable to look him in the eyes.

The night picks up quickly. With the buzz of guests, champagne, a golden light, the atmosphere shifts into elegance, sultry even. And it dawns on Bonnie just how many couples there are. Allison left to go and dance with her fiancé and she found a chair to perch on, watching the room from afar, admiring the dresses and love and, in the middle, hanging off Stefan's neck, her oldest friend. A pang of jealousy strikes uncomfortably and she scratches at it, affronted by the feeling when she's so happy for her, she is. Caroline deserves this.

But I do too, she thinks quietly.

Damon begins to meander his way back to the witch: tonight's appointed girlfriend. He's got Bonnie a glass of rose – her favourite – and is focussing all his vamp balance on not spilling it. That is, until he notices her expression, and then, his only concern is getting to her quickly.

"Are you okay?" he worries, placing her now half-spilled glass on the table. "You look sad?"

Bonnie blinks and shakes her face into a smile. "Great. Is that rose?"

Damon produces a proud smirk, "Of course." He wiggles his way round to her side, stealing a chair from another table to sit next to her. The distance looks awkward so he says, "Just playing the part," and drapes his arm over her shoulder.

Bonnie reaches to play with his loose fingers, pushing up into the open space so their hands are entwinned once again. "Me too."

They don't need to, Caroline and Stefan are clearly pre-occupied but it's not an entirely hideous feeling, his proximity. He smells of pine needles; it's homely.

"I think we should dance," Damon announces.

"Now?"

"Now."

She laughs as he lifts his arm, hands still attached, causing her to spin off her chair and into his chest. He steadies her dizziness – hands on her shoulders and even there, his thumb brushes. Bonnie drops her gaze; Damon releases her skin.

They carve a space between the couples and she smiles, embarrassed, he can tell. Damon holds his hand aloof, catching hers in the air above them. "The last time we did this was at their wedding," he whispers into her ear, Bonnie's frame a breath from his. "And then I did this." He spins her suddenly, her laugh thrilling in a way he knows it isn't supposed to. She falls back into his arms, eyes bright, wild.

"I remember."

"You've always been my favourite dance partner, Bon-Bon," he says (because he's feeling reckless and the string lights have turned him giddy).

"Careful," she whispers, "I think the party's making you soft."

The skin around his eyes crinkle. "Maybe, or maybe I'm just in love with you."

Bonnie laughs, "You're a good actor, Damon Salvatore," and he's trying to understand why he didn't want that to be her reaction.

It's a little frightening how much his statement didn't frighten him.

/

At twenty to twelve, Caroline taps a spoon to her champagne glass, giggles, and calls for a speech. Her words are sweet, interjected by more bubbly-induced giggles, and Stefan holds her hand throughout it all, utterly captivated. Bonnie risks a glance at Damon, the other Salvatore, his brow buried in thought. His hair is ruffled – tousled, as he corrected – and maybe it's the wine but she feels such a surge of affection staring at him, she has to touch his hand.

The vampire glances at it, then her, then nods. "Right, sorry, I forgot."

She doesn't know how to tell him that she had forgotten to.

"And, on the theme of love, I wanted to give a shout-out to my brother." Stefan's toast makes them flinch. He grins at them, "To Bonnie and Damon, may you be as happy as Care and I."

The room erupts in applause and this is too much. Bonnie heats with the attention, the falsity, but Damon, he stands, Bourbon in hand, lifting the glass to his brother.

"Damon, why don't you say something?" the younger Salvatore probes and Damon thinks fuck it, live a little right, Bonnie?

He clears his throat and tries to avoid her startled expression, eyes rounded in whatever you're doing stop, please but he's always gone after what he's wanted and right now, in this stupidly sparkly hall, it's never been clearer.

"Bonnie, Bon-bon, we've had an interesting relationship," he gives a wry smile, "There have been times you've tried to kill me, times I've tried to kill you," – the room laughs, obviously unaware that what he's saying is literally true - "times where we've laughed, bickered, danced, times I've thrashed you at monopoly, one time you thrashed me," – another trickle of laughter – "and I wouldn't change any of it. All the years. Even the ones in between." He moistens his lips and dares to look at her, the inevitable panic, but what he sees, the something, in those green eyes, enlivened by that green dress, makes him say, "And it's been real. All of it."

He resumes his seat to a chorus of awes and claps, his sister-in-law almost bursting with the sappiness of it all. Damon chases the room with a smile until at last, it lands on Bonnie. "Was that okay?" He says quietly, "Not too much?"

She threads her fingers together, hooking and unhooking until the silence has stretched too long and she has to answer. "I didn't expect that," she says honestly.

Damon blows out a breath. "You're telling me."

"It was real," she repeats quoting him, "All of it." A smirk flirts with her words, "Are you going to write poetry about me now?"

"Don't be an ass," he grumbles.

"Maybe a song? 'It was real' has a nice, Daniel Bedingfield ring to it?"

"Funny."

"That's me," she grins but takes his hand and holds it, on her lap, under the table, just for them.

A/N: I got a bit carried away with this one… I Haven't written this long a chapter in a while but I enjoyed getting in my Bamon feels so much, I just couldn't stop. Apparently listening to love songs whilst you write fanfiction results in something extremely fluffy. I'm sorry if you find the ending a bit rushed but that's the beauty of one-shots – little snippets into their life.

Please do leave a review. See you soon for my favourite idea yet!