Is re-posted after a couple hours of it coming first coming out prior. The only change is a different title for certain reasons(ANOTHER STORY WITH THE PREVIOUS NAME! GASP!*obnoxious hint*) Anyways, it's the same. Just had to change the name. Enjoys.
Warmth. Fuzziness. Sunlight bathes through the room, tracing patterns upon her body. She shifts to the left, tangling to covers up around her face… or at least what's left of them on top of the bed. Her fingers clench and unclench the tightness out of them into the cool pillow. Lazy Saturday mornings never feel as good as the rest of the week.
For one, they're seemingly the only free day the two have off anymore with their busy schedules. Sure they hang out all the time, but never have any goo, best-friend, quality time anymore.
A yawn escapes her sleepy mouth; the girl decides to ignore her body's efforts to wake, snuggling deeper into the sheets. I don't wanna wake-up yet…. Her mind protests her constant movement as the minutes wear on.
Black strands fall into her eyes and she blinks a couple times, the finality of her dreamscape drifting away. She blows out of her face and slowly inches up onto her elbows. Light waves in an orange tinge fall in through the curtains, coloring the room.
It takes Marceline a moment for her vision to clear, but when it does, a smile goes on her face. She runs her hand through her hair, wincing on the multiple tangles. Her body twists into a more upward position, back hunched over.
One..Two..Three.. Arms stretch upwards, back suddenly straightening and becoming rigid. Marceline yawns again, waiting until every vertebra in her spine pop into place before relaxing into a more comfortable position. She swings her long legs over the edge of the bed, hands on her knees for a moment.
Silence occurs as she clears her thoughts; the clock ticks uselessly in the corner, the only item breaking its wake. Tick, breath in, tick, tick, tick, breathe out. The smile tugging at her lips brightens on display.
"Okay, I'm up." She announces, smacking her knees with her palms as extra motivation and trudging up out of the room.
Singing in The Shower
She pads down the hall, passing by the space leading into the kitchen. Her mind whirs an unnerving thought causing her to pause, back up to look through the empty room, before sighing and continuing her way into the bathroom. With Bonnibel not home, she's free to do what she loves most on a early morning. Something no one knows about, or ever will know if it's in her ability.
The bathroom is clear from morning light, white walls a glow. As each article of clothing drops, so does the rest of her drowsiness. She hops eagerly into the shower, after making sure to check that the door is locked. Her wrist twists at the nobs upon the wall, playing with them until the stream flowing from the showerhead are steady and warm.
The warming water relaxes the muscles on her shoulders and back; cool soap squeezed into her palm soon joins the senses. As the steam builds, she washes happily, occasionally humming to herself. However, nothing is readily sung until the shampoo bottle is grasped within her hand.
The second the lather touches her damp hair, her mouth opens slowly, singing softer, but becoming louder and bolder by the second. Marceline taps a beat out on the wall, shaking her head from side to side, humming the beginning of a new song she had thought of and composed a couple days earlier. In other ways, it's been stuck in her head for awhile now. She shuts her eyes as the singing part comes, letting her voice carry throughout the small area sweet and beautifully.
…Think of you when I'm going to bed
When I wake up think of you again
You are my homie, lover and friend
Exactly why
She taps out a beat again, grinning when she can change her tone at the chorus. Her black hair covers her vision for a moment before flipping out of with the dramatic motion of her neck.
You light me up inside
Like the 4th of July
Whenever you're around
I always seem to smile
A smile graces her lips at the pause, before continuing.
And people ask me how
Well you're the reason why
I'm
Dancing in the mirror and singing in the shower
Marceline sucks in a deep breath, losing some air in a giggle along the way, before belting out as loud as she can.
La La Di, La La Da, La La Da!
Singing in the shower!
La La Di, La La Da, La La Da
Singing in the shower!
Bonnibel waddles into the apartment, grocery bags cluttering up both hands, and even one swinging from inbetween her teeth. She leans on the door, causing it close wit a soft click, and dropping them in the kitchen with a large sigh. A pair of keys clatter into the small glas abowl by the counter and she pauses, not because of that particular sound.
The shower is running. That's nothing new, she notes. It's what's coming from it that's odd. She slowly walks towards the door, leaning on the wall next to it. At first the voice, she's deducted is faint, but soon an uneven pressure in the water makes it able for her to hear her crisp and clear.
All I want, all I need is your loving!
Baby you make me hot like an oven.
She giggles to herself at the line before sliding down the wall and closing her eyes to focus on the rest. A soft smile grows into a grin.
Since you came, you know what I've discovered?
Baby I don't need me another!
No, no all I know (know)
Only you got me feeling so (so)
And you know that I got to have you,
And I don't plan to let you go!
Unconsciously, her hand runs up until they reach the surface pressed against her back. Her knuckles knock out a beat on the plaster, head nodding along. Marceline's voice echoes through the house, sweet and easy like candy to the ears. Bonnibel lets a sigh escape; the sound is a rarity, for truth, having never heard the other girl sing before. Now she doesn't want it to end, groceries forgotten.
Marceline rinses out her damp locks, running slender digits through the strands multiple times. She smirks, chanting with emphasis, letting her accent drawl out in every line.
There ain't no guarantee,
But I'll take a chance on we;
Baby let's take our time
(Singing in the shower)
And when the times get rough,
There ain't no giving up,
Cause it just feels so right
(Singing in the shower)
Don't care what others say
If I got you I'm straight;
You bring my heart to life, yeah!
She goes back to the chorus, and unbeknownst to the elated girl, her friend is right outside the door, humming along quietly. When Marceline begins to blurt out her favorite lines as always, something makes a loud slam, jolting the blonde from her trance. She clears her throat, brows knitting at her previous actions. Before her thought can contemplate that though, the black haired one had yelled.
"AHH FUCK!" Another couple seconds pass and the water is abruptly turned off. "Fuck this shit I'm out of here; stupid metal rack..."
The curtains noisy rustle is muffled slightly by the door. Another loud banging occurs and the sound of a body hitting the floor. Bonnie waits silently, mouth upturning at the corners. Then:
"Aww for the love of..-shit! …Fucking motherfucking-"
The voice muffles on, continuing the string of curses. She giggles at her housemates actions, getting up from her position and moving back to the kitchen. Whilst the tedious chore of emptying the bags is near completed, the said girl pads out the bathroom, running a hand through her hair.
She pretends to seem calm and unknowing of what had happened only ten minutes earlier. A groggy voice comes from the doorway.
"Uh hey Bonnie. When did ya get back?"
She shrugs her shoulders, putting away cans of soup. "Hm, about three minutes ago. Why?"
Marceline stiffens, and then relaxes. "Oh its nothing." To avoid further questions, she hugs her from behind, burying her face into her fruity hair before resting it into her neck and shoulder. Her back hunches from the shorter girl's height difference. It's a frequent gesture given by the taller one, for reasons unknown and unquestioned.
"I took a shower." She states nonchalantly.
"What does that have to do with anything?" comes the reply. Blue eyes briefly look over a package's contents before shoving it into the cabinet.
"I know how you like how I smell, Bon."
Bonnibel's jaw tightens at the comment, tensing up at the smirk burning into her shoulder. A shudder goes down her spine at her friend's warm breath upon her neck, but says nothing otherwise.
She scoots over to the stove top to make some quick lazy pancakes. She knows the drill: 3 for Marcy, 1 1/2 for herself.
Once the task is done, she releases her hold, allowing her to go sit on the couch and turn on the television. They eat breakfast quietly. The taller girl chooses to lay her head on her pancakes for a moment in thought before continuing to eat, dousing them with syrup after a second thought. Afterwards, Marceline joins her, on the couch, splaying lazily across the majority of the cushions, head in her lap. Her fingers toy with her hair.
"Why do you like my scent anyway?"
The question prompts the distasteful memory of her accidentally walking in on her morning ritual of inhaling her nightshirt. Awkward. Bonnie frowns, but quickly a foreign smirk replaces it.
Now it's the other one's turn to frown, pausing to poke her cheek. "Why're you smirking? Only I do that and you never smirk."
She glances down and brushes away the dark strands out of her face, before looking back up at the commercial playing obnoxiously in the background. Marceline frowns deeper from the lack of attention.
She goes to say something else, but the girl cuts her off. "It's nothing Marce. Just in a good mood." Her hand changes through channels. "I have a song stuck in my head. It's so sweet; I love it. I don't I'll ever grow tired of it though." Her eyes stay trained to the television, but focus diverts to running her soft fingers through her silky-from-the-fresh-shower hair, slightly scratching against her scalp from time to time.
Her frown dissipates and she grins happily at the attention, eyes shutting peacefully at the motions. After awhile, she mumbles, "Ooh what song is it?"
"Noth-ing." The reply is so nonchalant, so relaxed, that Marceline doesn't even take another second to ponder it. However, after a couple minutes have passed, her ears twitch at the sound of her humming.
"….hm,hm" It's to low at first but soon, she can make out a strangely familiar beat. Her grin widens as she pokes her side.
"I think I've heard of what your humming somewhere. Can you sing a line for me?"
She nods easily. "Okay."
Her throat clears softly, a sound so adorable to the other girl, before singing in the same tone with a straight face.
"You light me up in-side, like the fourth of Ju-ly; whenever you're a-round, I always seem-to smile." The grin drops from her face so fast it's comical, and is replaced with an open mouth of shock, eyes widened with an array of emotions. Bonnibel on the other hand smiles sweetly, closing her eyes and singing slightly louder.
"And people ask me how; well you're the reason why, I'm, dancing in the mirror…" Her eyes open and drift downwards, head lowering to say into her ear, "And singing in the shower."
Face ablaze, unintelligible stutters erupt from her mouth at that point, body becoming rigid. The only words she makes out in the horrid blushing mess are: 'I'm so sorry', 'didn't mean it', and 'I'm such an idiot'
Bonnie rolls her eyes and mutes the t.v. She covers her mouth to cut off anymore of the garbling. Marceline breaths heavy, fear and embarrassment foreign in her eyes. She says slowly, brushing some stray bangs from her view, "Calm down Marcy. I can't say I didn't like it. You're voice really is beautiful; I wish I had heard it earlier."
Her expression doesn't change except from the knit of her brows in confusion and then a fiercer flush she's ever seen in on her ears and cheeks in her entire life. She manages a couple extra stutters of, "Uh..um..ye-..oh-kay..uh.." before panicking and rolling off the girls lap and sprinting down the hall to her room. At the sound of the door shutting and locking, she hears her slump against it, grumbling to herself some more.
Bonnie unmutes her show, watching the episodes the rest of the day. Marceline never leaves the room, heightening her worry. Once evening falls, she rasps twice on the door, saying shortly, "Marce I'm gonna take my shower, then I'll get some dinner." She moves to leave but a strained, "Wait" interrupts. After a moment's pause, a paper slides out from the door.
She smiles at the other gesture; it's something they'd do as children when they'd argue or couldn't talk to each other. When one would leave dramatically, later on, they'd pass the other a sheet of paper to communicate to each other on, let it be from under a doorway or on opposite sides of a tree; their way to speak, when words were hard to let out verbally. Because, frankly words are hard sometimes.
Do you hate me now?
She giggles at the multiple scratched out beginning drafts. She's been thinking on it for awhile, it seems then. Bonnibel quickly locates a pen before scribbling back.
I could never hate you.
The reply seems instantaneous.
I'm sorry I ruined everything now. I'm an idiot.
That's partly true; you're an idiot. I can't deny that.
Thanks.
She smiles briefly at the clearly sarcastic comment.
Still, you're only half-right. You didn't ruin anything.Bonnie bites her lip, pen hovering above the crumpled sheet. Ink is final; no escaping what's written down. Her fingers shake, wavering her normally perfect cursive as she adds:
I think love you. Her trimmed nails push the sheet back under the door, hands still shaking. Her whole body doesn't stops shaking.
Me too.
The paper's snatched back under the door before she can process it.
I wanna open the door and hug you right now. But I'm too chicken too., is added underneath.
She can't help but laugh out loud at the comment. With a grin, she writes:
You idiot.
Dork, comes the reply.
I'm going to take a shower.
She slides it back to its original owner and goes up to the bathroom. As soon as the water begins to run, she faintly hears a door open and smiles to herself. Once again the room fills with steam.
When it dissipates, Bonnibel is toweling off. She finds a damp paper under the door.
I got pizza cause I'm starving. Come watch me beat Finn and Jake's buns at shooting zombies?
She dresses in some shorts and her new shirt Marceline bought her after losing her previous band tee to the evil pawn shop owner, Maja. Marceline sits cross legged on the floor, pizza box on the coffee table to the side, controller in hand.
Bonnie takes a slice and leans back against the couch, mumbling, "Start." The game commences the room filing with the sounds of gunshots, zombie groans, and Finn and Jake's cries of disapproval.
Soon, it's at the time where majority of the city is asleep, all the pizza and soda are gone, Finn and Jake have gotten offline, and the two housemates are left in an awkward silence. Marcy picks at the lining of her pajama pants. It lasts until she picks up a sticky note pad and a pen from the table and scribbles quickly, before slapping it on the other's forearm.
I hate not talking, but it's impossible to talk out loud.
Bonnibel reads it with a smile before getting up and coming back with a purple one of her own and a stray colored pencil. She slaps her reply on her forehead and snickers.
Me too. Words are hard. Emotions are hard. Life is…hard.
You sure know a lot about hard things Bon. Want to know what else is hard? She looks up from the sticky to see the taller one wiggle her eyebrows and stick two other sticky notes on her: one on her chest, another in her lap. She looks at the one on her chest first. It's a drawing of an arrow pointing down.
Bonnibel reaches down with a wary hand and flips over to see, scrawled crude drawing of a-
"It's your lady boner." Marceline says. Bonnibel snorts, crumbling up the sticky and pushing off the couch. They both burst into laughter, the one of the couch saying between breaths, "You. Are. So. Distasteful."
Marceline tries to calm her laughs, subsiding them into chuckles. She replies, wiping her eyes with a smile, "You can't tell me you don't like it."
Bonnibel follows her lead and crosses her legs, leaning down to look on the floor at her better. "I know." She twiddles her fingers. "I really liked your song."
Marceline flushes again and groans.
"Ugh not that again." ,comes out her mouth. Bonnie panics, due to the fact that when encountered with something embarrassing enough to flush, her best friend usually goes to escape the situation as fast as possible. As on cue, the girl stalks of to her room.
In a flurry, Bonnibel stumbles off the couch and catches her right when she's in front of her door. If she goes into that room, it'll always be like this; Running away from conversations like this will become the normal. And the blonde can't let that happen.
She wraps her arm around her waist, head buried into her neck; a mimic of the other's normal habit. "Don't walk away this time! I want to be… something. Something more."
She hesitates, before turning around and hugging her back. Words struggle in her throat, coming out short and unstable. "I. I want to… Me too. Can..we be?"
"Yeah. I hope so." She leans back slightly and Marceline grins.
"What?"
"This sounded so corny." She snorts. Bonnie just smiles in return, absently brushing the girl's annoyingly persistent bangs out of her face.
"Yeah…" Her heart stops as the sudden urge to want to kiss her takes place in her mind. Just to…see how soft her lips are. For… the fulfillment of curiosity, she reasons.
Marceline takes notice of her unconscious leaning in also, but only when their a breaths width apart. They freeze, closer than before. Bonnibel's breath hitches as her lips start to linger against her own, almost close enough to-
SLAM! The door is all she see's. She stands there helplessly, heat rising to her neck and breathing shallow. So close. Her hands wipe themselves on her pants, somehow sweaty. Bonnie leans against the door, finger touching her lips bitter sweetly.
'They didn't kiss, no not yet', she reasons. 'However', Marceline thinks from the opposite side, unbeknownst to the other, 'I did feel her lips brush against mine'
Both girls grin to themselves at the similar thoughts before Bonnibel calls out, walking back to her door, " I'll get you back for that. Goodnight you idiot!"
"Sweet dreams, dork!" Marceline replies with as much enthusiasm, hand pressing against the surface separating them. When the other door shuts also, a sigh escapes her. She climbs into her messy bed, taking a glance out the window. Her lips ghost out the words to her song with a smile that sends her chest to tighten in the best way.
You're the reason why I'm dancing in the mirror, and singing in the shower.
"Fuck Saturday. I can't wait until tomorrow."
Her last thoughts are of:
Warmth. Fuzziness. Sunlight bathing through the room…
Song is Shower by Becky G. Gotta love it for this fic. Just a stray idea I wrote up cause I couldn't get to sleep.
P.s. I have alot of oneshots stored up for in between chaps of multi-stories. Keep the lookout for once or twice a week for them. They'll be popping up on the random :P
Read & Review to show meh the love.