I am pretty sure I won't have a chapter for A Thing About You this week, I've had so much on my plate that I haven't had a chance to look at what's bugging me. So instead, have this.

I have this playlist right? It's awesome. And sometimes when I hear a song, I have to write about it. So every time I do, I'll update this. One song for each short story. Fair enough? I don't know what they'll be like... all over the place I imagine. All stand alone, probably quite weird. And low and behold, the first one ended up an AU. I swear, not everything will be, but wow.

This song is Golden by Lady Antebellum.


Steam guttered across the street, writhing with the passing of slow evening traffic. The heat of the day sucked away by the crisp evening, lingering warmth oozing from the bitumen, from the sidewalk and crawling away. Friday night lights flashed on billboards, street signs, awnings; noise clattered through the air, rowdy college students and apathetic office workers rinsing off another week. Alcohol wasn't the best way to wash away stress, it was sticky and erratic, but it was better than wallowing in a puddle of gooey ice cream.

She swore she wouldn't do it, bars weren't her scene. But with finals looming in front of her, eyes gritted from staring too long at books, she needed a breath of fresh air. While the claustrophobic clouds of the bar weren't fresh in the slightest and smelt horribly of the tobacco wafting in from the landing, it was a change.

Her friends were sitting in a booth, bent crookedly over the table in a film noir conspiracy type way. They didn't see her and she didn't go sit down. Instead, she flopped onto a bench in the back corner, eyes following the patterns made by the strobe lights across the ceiling.

A band was just packing up their instruments on the stage, but there would be more entertainment soon. The night was in its adolescence, but loud dance music would no doubt pump through the bar into the early morning. Anything at all to take one's mind off finals was worthwhile.

Bonnie should be studying; she could feel the guilt eating away at the walls of her stomach even as she sat there. She should be studying and for any other exam she would be, but it was nice to be out of the apartment. It was tiny, its walls paper thin and leaking. The bar, while hazy and loud, wasn't much of an improvement, it was to some degree.

A bass thrummed from the stage softly, almost imperceptibly. "Let's start with a slow one tonight, huh?" The voice carried over the crowd by only the smallest margins, distorted by the microphone. Bonnie nearly missed it. Then the voice started singing and Bonnie would know it anywhere.

"The sunset falls in Wichita, yellow dances through the blue

Wheat fields catch a glimpse of heaven, makes me think of you

And even when you're miles away,

You're always on my mind

Lord knows you're in my heart

Even when I close my eyes."

Her eyes scanned across the top of the crowd from her seated position, searching for the stage and its performer. She stood on her chair, short as she was, to get a better view and there, standing in her ever present knotted halo of black hair, was someone Bonnie had never thought to see in this sleepy town again. They'd been friends once, what felt like a lifetime ago. Before the singer had dropped out of high school and left, gone. Without so much as a goodbye.

"You are golden,

Precious as a prayer flying up through the air

While the rain is falling

Golden, timeless as a kiss

Baby I don't wanna miss another perfect moment

To tell you, how you make me feel

The day you strolled in, my heart was stolen

Cause you are golden."

Her chest contracted and her hands shook slightly, with rage perhaps, frustration, pent up hostility begging for release after all this time. But her feet wouldn't move. Not to storm up to the stage and slap the damn woman, not to sit back down and glower at the table. Not even to leave.

"Smallest parts of who you are

Are everything to me

From the way you laugh to the way you cry

To the way you love on me

Shadows run and darkness fades

When you come around

My single star amongst the grey

Always shining down."

It took a moment, but what she'd said finally sunk in. This was Marceline… singing a slow song? Her fists unclenched as she listened. Not once in all the years she'd known the other woman had a slow song… a song like this, ever come out of her mouth. Oh no, not Marceline. This was… a love song? Bonnie's shoulder slumped, her mouth fell open and all she could do was stare.

"Yeah you are golden,

Precious as a prayer flying up through the air

While the rain is falling

Golden, timeless as a kiss

Baby I don't wanna miss another perfect moment

To tell you, how you make me feel

The day you strolled in, my heart was stolen

Cause you are golden."

Bonnie was still standing on her chair, completely oblivious. It had been nearly three years since she'd seen her… were they still friends? But Marceline still sang as beautifully as ever. And as the other woman's eyes raked unseeing over the audience (some paying attention, some not) they locked onto Bonnie and widened. Her voice caught, lyrics sliding ever so slightly and her fingers missed a chord.

Then the mistake was gone, covered up behind her cocky smile and a wink. But Bonnie knew Marceline very well; they had been friends after all. And she could see the way Marceline held onto the neck of her guitar with a too-tight, white-knuckled hand and the fingers of her other hand seemed to have lost some of their coordination. There was strain in her voice now, faint and wavering, likely no one else noticed.

"Lovely

Oh so hard to find

Yeah you are goodness, forgiveness

Of the purest kind

Oh yeah."

Marceline still hadn't looked away. Her brown eyes were as penetrating as Bonnie remembered, feeling as though, beneath that knowing gaze, Marceline was privy to every secret, every thought, every last daydream she'd ever had. It was disconcerting. Almost as weird as the way Marceline's voice had changed, not strained now, but… something else. Calm, perhaps.

It was too hard. Bonnie struggled to move, feet still unresponsive. She had to go. Study looked very good in that moment and the last thing she wanted was a confrontation with the touchy singer. It would only end one way. Her groping fingers closed around the strap of her bag and she shuffled off the chair, tearing her eyes away. She could still feel Marceline's eyes on her back though, and even as she reached the door, the last lyrics filled her ears. Inescapable.

"From the day you strolled in, my heart was stolen

You'll be the hand I'm holding,

When the heavens open

Cause you are golden, yeah."

Bonnie burst into the street outside and sighed heavily. She didn't break stride, didn't pause, didn't hesitate, she set off down the street as fast as a dignified pace would allow. She never even reached the corner.

"Bonnie."

The voice stopped her in her tracks. It was a whisper, little more than an exhalation, quiet in the still night. Her breath caught in her lungs, her heart stuttered. Whatever was said, there wouldn't be an argument, she couldn't… wouldn't argue with Marceline.

She didn't turn though and it wasn't long before Marceline's hand touched her shoulder, hesitant, soft, feather-light. Now, with another sigh – this one resigned – she shifted. Meeting Marceline's eyes was the hardest thing she'd done in a while.

"What?"

Marceline shuffled her feet, hands in the pockets of her jeans now, uncomfortable or unsure. She'd never been good at emotions. Bonnie frowned.

"Uh… well," Marceline began. One hand slipped from her pocket to rub the side of her neck. "I just… you don't normally go to bars." Once upon a time, the unspoken question in her babbling would have been answered. Bonnie didn't answer it this time.

"So? You don't normally sing slow songs."

"Yeah…" she trailed off, staring over Bonnie's head. "Just been feeling… slow… I guess." Her crooked smile flashed fleetingly across her face before confused discomfort regained dominance. "Had some things that needed saying and a slow song seemed best." She shrugged, hand back in her pocket.

"Uh-huh. And?"

Marceline lifted an eyebrow and despite herself, Bonnie felt herself falling back into her old patterns. They'd always had strange ways of communicating, ways her other friends didn't get. A look, the slightest of gestures, even a raised eyebrow, contained volumes. And even if she wanted to be angry at Marceline for leaving, even though she wanted to be frustrated that the other woman still had trouble verbalising basic things, this was easy. It was familiar and simple and something she'd missed.

Bonnie sighed. "Why are you here? Why come back? And what the hell were you singing a slow song for?"

Now the wonky smile flickered to life, this time it stayed. "None of them are what you really want to ask me, Bon," she whispered. Marceline pointed to a set of stairs not too far away and Bonnie headed for it. The invitation was implicit. Maybe Marceline had trouble with words, but she'd never been all that hard to understand.

"I still want them answered," she replied, sitting on the bottom step.

Marceline looked away and Bonnie couldn't help but notice the space she'd left between them as she sat. Before, Marceline wouldn't have had a problem invading her personal space, but the gap now seemed infinitely vast. What was worse was Bonnie couldn't bring herself to close it.

"Not a simple answer," Marceline murmured, now staring at the sky. Her elbows propped on the next stair up, head tilted back, smile gone again. Marceline without a smile didn't look right.

"Three answers," Bonnie reminded her.

She shook her head, hair whispering as it shifted. "Not really. Just the one." Mystery. Bonnie had hoped Marceline wouldn't still be as enigmatic. Apparently this was not the case.

Fortunately, Bonnie knew precisely how to deal with it. She stood. "Fine. Have fun." And with that and not a single backwards glance, Bonnie headed home.

As before, she didn't make it far.

"Wait!" The cry was broken, disjointed and pleading. Not a combination heard often in Marceline's voice.

Bonnie glanced back. Marceline was on her feet, eyes wild, one hand out, grabbing at Bonnie's sleeve. She still couldn't make eye contact, still danced around her words.

"Oh for the love of all that is holy," Bonnie said waspishly. Despite her earlier promise, she could feel her ire rising. She was perilously close to losing her temper, which didn't happen often. But Marceline was a notorious cause for it. "You can't say it," Bonnie went on, wrestling her tone into something more civil. "You can't. I know you and that's how you've always been. And I'm not going to stand here while you dither. Goodnight…" She had to amend the last bit. "Goodbye," she said instead. It sounded much more final.

With that she turned a third time. And she honestly planned to go home this time. She honestly did. But she wasn't prepared for what Marceline said. Goodness, given a lifetime she wouldn't be able to prepare for it.

"I missed you."

Her feet stopped so fast she almost fell over. Surely she'd heard wrong. Warmth gurgled in her chest and she was pretty darn sure her heart had stopped as well. That couldn't be good. She stubbornly refused to look though. Not this time. Oh no.

She turned.

There was a light in Marceline's eyes she'd never seen before. It was almost panicked. "I missed you, okay?" she repeated. Right, Bonnie had heard correctly. "I caught a bus and went south. Went everywhere really. I just… just travelled. But the whole time I was thinking about how I didn't even say goodbye." She paused, ran a hand through her hair. "Every time I caught a ride I thought about how easy it would be to come back here. Come home. I felt… inside like… I couldn't stay away. Like elastic drawn too tight, it always snaps back, right? There was too much… tension. Then one day I realised I was an hour from here and I… I came back. I wanted to see you."

Her shoulders dropped as though saying that had taken all her strength. Maybe it had. That was more than she'd ever said at once before. She never explained herself, never reasoned anything out, Marceline just did things. Everyone else got vertigo watching her.

Bonnie felt the need to fill the silence suddenly between them. But what could she do? Nothing. Instead she asked, "Why did you leave?"

Marceline blew out her cheeks, looking away. It was almost sheepish. "I was scared. You were the best friend I'd ever had and it scared me. I didn't even have to speak with you. It was like you just knew what I meant."

"I did," Bonnie admitted. "But that's beside the point. Why are you using past tense?"

Now, startled, Marceline's eyes finally met Bonnie's. "Past tense?"

"You said I was your best friend. Past tense. Why?"

"I left." She shrugged. And to Marceline, that's exactly how simple it was.

"Why the slow song?"

"You're just a nosy as I remember," Marceline muttered, smiling.

"You said it was all one answer," Bonnie observed. "What is it?"

Again, Marceline needed only to lift one eyebrow. Seriously, Bonnie, it seemed to be saying. You're seriously asking me that question? I already told you the answer, bubble-brain. Remember?

"Me?"

Marceline laughed, a sound Bonnie was suddenly forced to recall she enjoyed so much. "You heard me when I said I missed you, right?" Is it possible to close three years' worth of space? "So yeah. You."

Bonnie frowned again. "That didn't sound like a song you wrote because you have a friend, Marceline." No… it had sounded like… like a love song. Marceline didn't write love songs.

"Maybe it wasn't." Just like that, Marceline clammed back up. Not one word ever escaped her mouth if she didn't want it to. Not one.

Bonnie tched and turned to walk off again. Threats didn't work against Marceline, that was something she'd learned long ago. To get through to the stupidly stubborn woman, she had to actually carry them out. Simply walking away was the easiest and – in this case – most effective.

This time, Marceline followed her. That kind of ruined her plan. But Bonnie ignored her, to the best of her ability, and they walked in silence.

"I said I was scared," Marceline eventually put forth. "Cause you… you were so close. You know me so well and it scared me."

She wanted to interject, but cutting Marceline off mid-stream was a bad idea. Once her words halted, there was no guaranteed way to get her talking again. Best to just keep her mouth shut.

"I was scared because I cared," she went on slowly. "Too much. I liked you too much… wanted… I don't know what to call it. But I… was worried what you'd do if you found out. Terrified that you'd never talk to me again. I thought if I left, I'd… cool down or something. I thought I could work it out, get rid of it. But… that never happened. I still care too much. And we don't talk. And I hate it."

That was convoluted and made no sense. She couldn't tell Marceline that though, for someone who kept their emotions so securely locked away, she was awfully sensitive. It appeared Marceline didn't have any extra insight for her though. Very helpful.

"Enlightening," Bonnie grumbled. "You left because we were friends and it scared you. How logical." She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"I don't know how to say it so you'll understand," Marceline said softly. She hadn't gotten angry at the sarcasm. How odd. "Have you ever felt… infinite? Like you're the biggest thing in the world, as though the sun lives inside?"

Yes, Bonnie's mind said before she could silence it. She had. Infinite, like the night sky.

"It's like that," Marceline continued. "So big I felt explosive. It made me want things that… didn't sound like good ideas." Her mischievous grin flashed again. "And we both know that most things sound like good ideas to me." True, so anything Marceline was hesitant to do must be truly awful.

"Things like what?" Bonnie felt compressed, her voice shook. Her heart drummed staccato in her ears.

Marceline shrugged. "Just things." And it's best not to talk about them, her tone implied.

"So what? You come back, still as inarticulate as ever and we go back to how it used to be?" Bonnie asked her wryly. "You know that can't happen. You left and I don't know why." She stopped, standing on the stairs outside her building and turned to Marceline, using her extra step to her advantage. "I don't get it. I can't just pretend you never left and neither can you. If I'm the reason you left and I'm the reason you came back, I think I deserve something at least. Can't you just-"

Marceline pulled her into a hug, cutting off her words. "I don't want to tell you," Marceline whispered into her collar. "I'm scared of it." She was being brutally honest, so forthright and it wasn't natural. "But I don't want to leave again. I don't want to lose you."

In spite of herself, Bonnie found her fingers wound into the back of Marceline coat, holding just as tightly. She'd missed this (if she was being honest), missed the feel of hugging her friend, the smell of her hair, all of it. None of her other friends could ever replace this. Not if they tried.

"You can't have that," Bonnie murmured back. Marceline's hands tensed on her back. "You can't. It doesn't work that way. You have to tell me. I need to know. What if something happens and you get scared again. You'll leave and it'll hurt me. It'll hurt us both. You know it. You're good at keeping secrets, Marcy, but not from me."

Marceline turned her face, pressing her nose into Bonnie's collar. She made no move to let go or to speak. Truthfully, Bonnie didn't really want her to. But after so long, she'd trained herself well, no matter what she wanted, she'd let go when Marceline did. Always.

"Either way then…" Marceline sighed. "Either way… I lose you. I'd rather be friends, than nothing, Bonnie. But this… this will end badly."

Funny, Bonnie had thought the same thing earlier. Her fingers moved up, tangling in the hair at the nape of Marceline's neck. The other woman shivered, arms contracting. "Just tell me."

"You'll hate me."

"I already hate you."

In the circumstances, the bad joke was a success simply because she felt Marceline smile. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Marceline still didn't let go. Maybe she thought if she held on Bonnie wouldn't hate her for… whatever she was going to say. Maybe she thought it'd help.

"Spit it out already," Bonnie said lightly.

"I… The day you strolled in, my heart was stolen. You are golden." Marceline trembled. Her inability to say things in a straight forward fashion was endearing and frustrating by turns. Lyrics were only useful in so far as they made sense. She let go but didn't step back, mouth open like she wanted to add something. "I… I really suck at saying things. I'm sorry."

"It's ok," Bonnie replied. "I'm used to it. Be nice to hear the actual words though."

Marceline's eyes snapped up to meet hers. "Huh?"

"Come on, really? You said yourself; I just know what you mean." She smiled. "Besides, that wasn't too hard to work out. You're not half as mysterious as you like to think."

Marceline blinked. "Huh?"

"The words, Marceline," she said. "There's three of them. All single syllables. They take very little effort to say. In fact, you expended more energy singing a song." Bonnie grabbed the hem of Marceline shirt as she tried to edge away, probably to stare confusedly at her from further off. "Say the words, Marceline," she murmured. "Like ripping off a band-aid."

Her fingers fidgeted, uncomfortable clearly, but she was doing her very best to meet Bonnie's eyes. She was failing, but points for trying. Marceline sighed again, closing her eyes.

"I'm in love with you, Bonnie." She tensed, clearly waiting for some sort of violent reaction.

So when Bonnie leaned in and kissed her, she wasn't ready for it. "You used more words than you had to," she mumbled into Marceline's mouth. "You only needed three. That was six." Marceline was very confused. It made Bonnie laugh. "I love you too."

"You… don't hate me?"

"Pay attention when I speak, Marceline. What did I say?"

"You love me…"

"Yes. Now, let's try this again." She pressed her lips to Marceline's once more and this time, Marceline kissed back. It made her toes curl and her heart pound altogether too hard.

Marceline was first to pull away, but not far. "That took three years too long." She was grinning like an idiot. "I'm sorry I left."

"Just shut up. You have three years to make up for."