This is my first ever completed, revised, re-revised, re-re-revised piece of fan fiction. I am all about constructive criticism, pointers, etc; so please feel free to critique. At this point I intend to keep the story in the realm of a one-shot, but I'm willing to expand on this and their relationship, and possibly reach M territory. For now we have a nice T rating for language and mentions of drinking. Racy, right? Enjoy.
The bar is dark, dank, smokey, and obnoxiously loud. Anyone looking at Bonnibel's pastel ensemble and nervous disposition can tell it's not the girl's typical choice for a Friday night out. Bonnibel is many things - she's logical, she's personable, she's loyal - and tonight, her loyalty to her organic chemistry study group's near-unanimous decision for a post-study-session round of cheap beer and drinking games has taken her to a dive bar, past her bedtime mind you, but she remembers that she's a long way from home and needs to stay sociable if she really wants to make the college experience worthwhile. Besides, it's a Friday night. So sure, she'll pay the 6 dollar cover charge and an exorbitant amount of money for a drink she doesn't need or particularly want, and she'll be polite and engage in conversations with her party while she leans against the wall and avoids eye contact with anyone she doesn't know. She'll babysit a bottle of bitter liquid inching closer to room temperature with every passing minute. Maybe she'll even watch the girl on the small stage in the corner plucking away at a red bass.
The girl on stage is sitting on a stool. She's hunching over the bass on her lap and she's tending to the instrument with the effortless dexterity you'd expect from a seasoned veteran. It's nearly impossible to see her face behind the mess of black hair. It's even more difficult to hear her from the other side of the small, cramped room. Then she brings her head up to reach the microphone in front of her, and the girl sings out,
"Chimney falls and lovers blaze, Thought that I was young
Now I've freezing hands and bloodless veins, As numb as I've become
I'm so tired, I wish I was the moon tonight"
Her voice is low and soulful. Bonnibel smiles to herself and tunes out the rest of her party as she watches the girl on stage perform for an audience that probably doesn't even realize she's playing, save for the few tables by the stage filled with guys that appear to be more interested in the fact that she's a girl on stage as opposed to a girl on stage. It's not until the song gets a bit louder and more commanding of attention that the girl shakes the mess of hair out of her face, and she looks out to the crowd and meets Bonnibel's curious gaze. She smirks and strums with more enthusiasm as Bonnibel looks down at her nearly-empty bottle of beer and picks at the damp label, attempting to hide the pink creeping into her cheeks.
"I'm so tired, I'm so tired, and I wish I was the moon tonight," the girl finishes off the song with a quick, half-assed thank you to the audience that gives her equally half-assed applause. She hands her bass to the tech guy managing audio behind her and makes her way off the stage. She snags a beer off one of the stage side tables and takes a swig, completely ignoring the look of indignation one of the guys formerly leering at her below the stage gives her because, hey, it's kinda fucked up to steal someones drink. But it's also a little funny. She keeps walking, bottle in hand, towards Bonnibel, the girl's eye contact unflinching. She's tall and lanky and walks with purpose. She's got a mane of thick, black hair that falls to her hips and she's wearing an outfit that's so effortlessly cool, there was no way Bonnibel would have been able to pull it off, even if she wanted to. She stops directly in front of Bonnibel and simply says, "hey." She relaxes with her back against the wall and talks to Bonnibel like she's known her for years. "I don't think I've seen you in here before, have I? Look, don't take this the wrong way, but this doesn't seem like your type of hang out...not that I don't appreciate it when someone actually pays attention to what I've got going on up there... not something typical for a Friday night. So, thanks. Are you into music at all?"
"Well, uh, I don't play any instruments or know a lot about music theory, so I think it's fair to say no. Not that you weren't good, because you were! Heh, but it would be rude to not pay attention, right?" Bonnibel says sheepishly, trying to figure out exactly why this girl is talking to her when there's a bar filled with people undeniably more socially apt, more interesting, and probably way more drunk than Bonnibel.
The black haired girl chuckles. "Heh, thanks. I'm Marceline, by the way. Marceline Abadeer. I'm kinda here a lot. I'm not a lush or anything, I'm friends with the guy who owns the bar and he lets me play a couple times a month. It's money and something to do. You know, to pay the rent, buy ridiculously overpriced textbooks, all that jazz. Sorry, enough about me. Tell me about yourself," She turns to lean her side against the wall and cocks her head playfully, looking Bonnibel over. Her eyes trail up to her bright pink top bun and says, "pinkie."
Bonnibel doesn't know whether to take this new nickname as a slight or not, but she's in no position to confront the taller, more confident Marceline. It's not like her unnaturally bright pink hair is something that's meant to go unnoticed. "Well actually, my name is Bonnibel and I'm here with my study group. I usually don't hang out in bars at all...like, ever...but they were pretty adamant about not spending a Friday night in after finishing up some chemistry work, but I'm sure you understand..." Well, maybe not.
"Nah, not really. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, you seem pretty cool, Bonnibel. Or Bonnie? Bonbon? Any of those sound better than Pinky to you?" She laughs and Bonnibel looks at Marceline with growing frustration. "Oh, come on! I'm only joking. Okay, I'm sorry, Bonnibel. Maybe after we get to know each other better I can start thinking up nicknames for you, huh?"
It's not long until Bonnibel has zoned out the rest of the increasingly inebriated crowd to talk to Marceline one-on-one about everything from the trials and tribulations of computer programming, to what restaurants in town have the cheapest food, to where they get their hair done. As it turns out, Marceline knows a thing or two about a lot of different things and she's not afraid to let it show. Bonnibel normally has a hard time being able to really click with people she doesn't know well, but she's beginning to let her guard down around Marceline. She can't tell if it's because she's on her third beer at this point or if Marceline is a genuinely chill, nice person, but last call eventually rolls around and what's left of her study group have paired off to suck face in the corner. Awkward.
It's almost 2am. Bonnibel is groggy, sufficiently buzzed, and has $22 dollars to her name after paying her tab and tipping the tattooed barkeep liberally(she doesn't speak much, but Marceline calls her Dacey). She scrolls through her phone looking for a taxi to call when Marceline offers to split the bill on a cab ride since Bonnibel's dorm is close to her apartment. Bonnibel reluctantly agrees.
"I have my own place off campus," Marceline says as they enter the cab. "Just a little walk-up, I used to live with my ex, Ash, until he started stealing my shit and selling it to seedy pawn shops. He's gone now, though. Last I heard he was grifting with some gutter punks off the interstate. Gross, right?" Bonnibel is entirely unfamiliar with her jargon but nods politely. They spend most of the ride in the back of the cab in silence, looking out the windows to see blinking neon signs and hordes of people walking home from bars. Bonnibel yawns and tries to get a grasp on where she is, both physically and mentally. The liquor is clouding her mind and she feels dizzy, moving with the car as it makes its turns and accelerates throughout the city streets. Bonnibel's heard all the cautionary stories about how absolutely fucked her current scenario is. Agreeing to have a complete stranger take her home after getting way more drunk that she initially anticipated in some seedy bar, letting said complete stranger know where he room is? The whole situation is completely dangerous and her inner dialogue involves a lot of panicking and second guessing of the girl sitting across from her in the backseat of a cab that smells like puke and sweat and cheap air freshener. She fidgets with the hem of her powder blue tulle skirt, weighing out strategies of self-defense should this Marceline girl try anything unsavory.
The cab stops off at Bonnibel's dorm hall after what feels like an eternity. As she pays the driver and exits the cab, she feels like crawling all the way to her bed, but makes an effort to tough out her wobbly, alcohol-induced sea legs. Marceline seems to take note of this and opens the cab door, signaling to the driver that she'll be right back, and she grabs Bonnibel's arm and drapes it over her shoulders while reaching around her waist to support her, effectively holding the waifish girl up. Bonnibel internally panics as she realizes just how helpless she is. But Marceline just looks at her flushed face with worry.
"Okay, good. One step at a time. It's okay, you're almost there. Girl, if I had known you were this much of a lightweight I would have told Dacey to cut you off! This is all my fault. Fuck. I'm sorry." Marceline seems genuinely remorseful about letting Bonnibel get too drunk to walk and continues to hold the other girl up as she struggles to maintain her grasp.
"S'fine. Im gonna go...in there...and lay down until my eyes close..." Bonnibel says with slurred speech. The only problem is, her eyes are already closing, and Marceline is struggling to keep her up. Marceline sighs heavily and pinches the smaller girl's arm. Bonnibel yelps, then chuckles and turns to bury her face in Marceline's hair. Bonnibel breathes the thick black hair in. Marceline smells like mint and raspberry and rain. She looks up and her eyes widen as they meet Marceline's black irises. "Uh, sorry. That was totally weird of me, wasn't it?" Marceline shakes her head silently in response, and seems more concerned with Bonnibel getting into the dorm hall safely.
After a few failed attempts to slide her ID card, the door to the main hall unlocks and Marceline gets Bonnibel settled on her own two feet before letting her go. The pink-haired girl signals a farewell to her new friend, but Marceline interjects before letting her pass.
"You know, you're pretty cool, Bonnie. Here's my info if you ever wanna hang out." She smiles and puts a folded cocktail napkin in Bonnibel's hand before moving her way to the waiting cab. "Get some sleep. Oh, and I don't know how you'll be feeling tomorrow, but I can take a guess...I've left you some instructions for a good hangover remedy if you feel like I feel after a night of heavy drinking. Later." Bonnibel watches her get in the cab before she listlessly skulks to her dorm room and falls down on the bed without so much as turning on the light or removing a single article of clothing. Her unnaturally warm body sinks into the pristine pink sheets and she feels her equilibrium readjust to the feeling of her body laying down. Her head finally stops reeling as her heavy eyelids close.
Bonnibel passes out with the smell of liquor and cigarette smoke and Marceline Abadeer lingering on her clothes.
[song credit: Neko Case, I Wish I Was the Moon.]
Like I said, at this point I have an idea of where I'd like to take this, but that depends on the demand for it(and my dedication to writing filler material that doesn't suck.) Please feel free to review and let me know what you think! Cheers.