Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Marceline swallows roughly, coarsely, loudly, and tries very, very hard to convince herself that she's dreaming and will wake up any second from this terrible nightmare. This very dreadful dream that is nonetheless a dream and completely not real.

Except it is. Real.

She clears her throat in an effort to look like she's preparing herself to speak, when all she's really trying to do is drag out the silence. She's only prolonging the inevitable, she knows this, because of course she will (inevitably) have to speak eventually and she can't say no to Ash because her father is right there fucking smiling and he would never forgive Marceline if she were to embarrass him by turning Ash down so publicly; but she also can't say yes because he's Ash and Marceline hates his guts and she's massively gay and not to mention she's kind of got a big, gigantic (gay) crush on her best friend Bonnie.

Huh, Marceline thinks in wonderment, having finally admitted it to herself, whaddya know? I have feelings for Bonnibel after all. Crazy what comes to mind at a time like this. She tries to find the pink-haired girl's eye, somewhere in the crowd of people. Speaking of Bonnie, where the hell is she?

Marceline has almost completely forgotten about Ash who nudges her foot with his own, glaring at her pointedly and reminding her that he's kind of in the middle of a proposal and the least that Marceline could do is give him an answer, considering he's literally on his knees in front of all these people. She clears her throat again, quelling the urge to remind him that she doesn't owe him shit.

"Uh, I—" Marceline doesn't believe in a god, never has, but when she hears the shrill note of the fire alarm start to screech through the air, cutting her off mid-sentence (which is good considering she has no idea how she was going to continue) she comes dangerously close to giving him her everlasting soul, and even ponders dropping to her knees to send a prayer of thanks to whatever deity has decided to save her from this painfully-awful situation.

She rushes toward the exit, only glancing back at Ash to take delight in the angry scowl that twists his facial features at her escape. As she moves through the doors, she looks everywhere for a flash a pink hair, but as she can't seem to find it, she becomes increasingly worried.

All the people moving towards the front entrance forces her through the door as well and she tries to fight her way upstream to head back inside and go searching for Bonnie when she hears a voice.

"Psst! Marceline!" The potted plant to her left hisses at her, and she thinks she just might be going crazy when she catches a glimmer of familiar pink hair through the shrubbery. The sight of Bonnie never failing to make her heart race, does indeed cause the organ to start pumping a little faster, and as of five minutes ago, she finally knows why.

"Bonnie?" she asks, fighting her way sideways through the crowd until she reaches the topiary. Bonnibel rises sheepishly from behind it. For some reason, Marceline can't help herself from trying to recap everything that's just happened in one breath. To her own ears, she sounds disgustingly like a teenage girl at a slumber party (Bonnie thinks her rambling just sounds adorable.)

"Oh my god, did you see what Ash just pulled? Where were you? And why are you hiding behind a plant? Ash just proposed to me! He's got some fucking nerve! I literally cannot believe he—" Marceline breaks off then suddenly, taking a breath and looking Bonnie up and down, "Where were you?" She repeats quizzically, head tilted to one side in a way that causes Bonnibel's stomach to flutter at the cuteness of it.

"I know he proposed to you, I saw it. But I was a little…preoccupied."

Bonnibel brings one hand up to rub sheepishly at the back of her neck and it's then that Marceline notices the blue ink coating her fingers, the kind of blue ink that a fire alarm spews onto someone when it's pulled, and realization dawns on her.

"Oh my god, you pulled that fire alarm?"

"Shh!" Bonnie hisses, rushing forward to cover Marceline's mouth and glance around them, making sure none of the people still streaming out of the clearly not on fire building heard her. It briefly crosses Marceline's mind that Bonnie has really soft hands, before her tongue darts out to lick the skin, prompting Bonnibel to quickly retract her hand and roll her eyes at Marceline's childish antics. Sirens sound off in the distance.

"We have to get out of here." Marceline says when she hears the frenzied approach of the fire truck, sobering and grabbing Bonnibel's hand, dragging them towards a large building off to the left of the house. Thankfully when Marceline pulls on the handle, the door is unlocked. She considers sending a thank you up to the heavens for the second time tonight at the luck that's being thrown her way.

They step into the dark building together and Marceline flicks on a light switch, illuminating a room full of shiny cars in all different kinds of makes and models. While Bonnie stands shellshocked by the entrance, having never seen so many nice cars in one place, Marceline moves over to the key ring hanging from one wall and pulls a set off of one of the hooks.

"C'mon, princess." She says, taking Bonnie's hand once again and leading her towards a white Porsche Boxster in pristine condition.

"Marceline! We can't just steal a car!" Bonnie says incredulously as Marceline jumps over the side of the convertible into the driver's seat and starts the engine.

"I used to live here, Bon. Schwable is mine." She reminds her as she pushes open the passenger side door. Bonnibel freezes momentarily, because for some reason the sight of Marceline in that tight black dress, curvaceous and delectable, behind the wheel of such a sleek and sexy car has made her throat dry. She speculates that it's probably because she hasn't really had anything to drink all night. She slides into the passenger seat.

"Schwable?" Bonnie says. Her voice is dead serious, but Marceline can still tell that it's meant as a teasing comment.

"Shut up." Marceline replies, pushing a button that opens one of three garage doors, before gunning out onto the pavement and racing off down the driveway into the cold air, the top of the car still down. She hasn't even turned the headlights on.

Marceline swings them out onto the street in a wide turn, barely slowing down as she continues to race down the otherwise empty road. She reaches over to turn on the radio and they're greeted by Taylor Swift.

Midnight, come and pick me up, no headlights.

Marceline's hair is flying out behind her like wings, the ebony tresses barely visible against the black sky engulfing them. Bonnie thinks she has never looked more beautiful.

A long drive, could end in burning flames or paradise.

Watching Marceline sing along lowly, Bonnie can't seem to look away. She can barely hear the girl's sultry voice, but the way her crimson mouth wraps around the words has Bonnibel absolutely enraptured. Everything about Marceline has her enraptured.

The chorus of the song is a hazy blur in the background, as Marceline, feeling Bonnie's stare, finds the pink haired girl's eyes, her dark irises boring into Bonnibel's. Occasionally she glances back at the street ahead of them, but she does so only sparingly, and Bonnie isn't sure how she's managing to keep the car on the pavement.

She doesn't really care either.

So it goes, he can't keep his wild eyes on the road.

Marceline tilts her head at this a little bit almost as if to say huh, but makes no other comment, continuing to sing softly in her silky tone and Bonnie leans over the center console to hear her better. When the next words find her ears, it is only Marceline's voice she hears, and only Marceline she sees, as the girl's dark eyes threaten to consume her.

"What you've heard is true, but I can't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

She stops singing then and as far as Bonnie is concerned, it's because no other words exist. Marceline is her entire universe, her entire existence. She inches closer. She needs to feel Marceline's full lips pressed against her own, she doesn't care if the car crashes in the process.

They jolt apart at the sound of someone leaning heavily on their horn and they look up just in time to see a red car speed past them in the opposite lane. Marceline finally reaches to turn on the headlights, then extends her middle finger high over her head. The moment—whatever it was—is gone, and so Bonnie leans back across the console and into her own seat.

"So I take it we're done acting like the queen of england now?" Marceline looks over at Bonnibel when the pink haired girl says this.

"Hell yeah." and then they're both laughing.

Suddenly the night has caught up to them, and they can't seem to catch their breath because they're both roaring with laughter. Everything seems like the funniest thing in the world, and were anyone to stumble upon them they'd think they're both crazy.

"Ash proposed to you!" Bonnie screams over the wind and this only makes them laugh harder.

"I know!" Marceline screams back, between giggles, "and you pulled the fire alarm!"

"Oh my god, I did! I've never broken a rule in my life!" Bonnie hollers to her, and once again they're crying with laughter.

"I fuckin' love you, Bon!" Marceline tells her over the wind, still laughing. Bonnie quiets down and stares at a still laughing Marceline.

She leans over and places a delicate kiss on Marceline's cheek, silencing the other girl immediately, "Love you too, Marcy."

The smile that Marceline gives her is radiant, and in that moment Bonnie would do anything to make her happy. Marceline raises the top on the car and they continue to race away down the darkened street and into the black night, content little smiles on both their faces.

—-

Bonnie wakes to the feel of ebony tresses tickling the skin of her cheek with the heavy and heavenly scent of red velvet right under her nose. Although her head is still filled with a sleepy fog, the smell is as comforting and familiar as the heat radiating off of the body next to her so she pushes her face further into the back of the person's neck, sighing a groggy yet content, "Marcy."

Eyes closed, Bonnibel scooches forward another fraction of an inch and presses a ginger, delicate kiss into the place where her sleeping companion's neck meets their shoulder. When she feels the other girl stir lightly she opens her eyes, yawning, and begins to take in her surroundings and oh my god. Heart pounding in her ears, Bonnie realizes exactly where she is: in Marceline's dorm, in Marceline's bed, with Marceline wrapped up tightly in her arms, all of her back flush with Bonnie's front, their legs hopelessly entangled under Marceline's plaid black and gray covers.

Spooning, Bonnibel's brain tells her in a desperate attempt to slow her alarmingly racing heartbeat, it's just spooning. Friends do this all the time. She takes a deep breath and looks around to examine Marceline's dorm so that she'll distract herself from looking at the literal angel asleep in her arms.

The walls of the dorm room are painted gray (which is against school rules of course, but so incredibly trademark Marceline that Bonnibel doesn't know why she's even surprised when she sees it) and the wall across from her bed is covered so entirely in messily scrawled on red post-it notes that only slivers and cracks of the gray paint peek out from underneath. There's a red keyboard in one corner of the the room, next to a propped up red acoustic guitar and an axe shaped gig bag that leaves no confusion as to which of Marceline's instruments is located inside. Her desk is (surprisingly) covered in school work and (unsurprisingly) very messy. Different types of sheet music litter the floor in haphazard piles and strewn amongst clothes. There is no second bed and so, Bonnie assumes, no roommate. The room is very Marceline, in Bonnie's opinion.

She looks back at the sleeping form pressed up against her who, although has been awake for a while now, has remained still and quiet. Marceline had woken before Bonnie, but had felt so warm and comfy that she had decided she'd be perfectly happy just waiting in Bonnibel's arms until the pink-haired girl woke up, and albeit one brief, panic-stricken thought of Calm down, Marcy, I'm sure there's a perfectly normal heterosexual explanation for this, when Bonnie had kissed her shoulder, Marceline has remained entirely calm and content. Now though, as Bonnibel's fingers figure skate up and down the bare skin of her arm, she doesn't think she can handle much more.

"Mornin', princess." She says, voice low, husky, and sleep-filled as she turns in Bonnie's embrace.

"Hey, you." Bonnibel replies once they're facing each other, heart racing at their proximity (arms wrapped around each other, legs tangled, foreheads pressed together, noses almost touching) as she tries desperately not to pass out.

"So," Bonnie giggles, as she brushes some of Marceline's messy, bedhead bangs away from her dark eyes, "how exactly did I end up in your bed?"

Marceline, before her eyes can ask her brain for permission, merely winks, to which Bonnie blushes and laughs loudly. She shrugs once the girl's laughter dies down, "We didn't get back until late and you were asleep when we got here and I didn't want to wake you up so I just carried you up to my dorm and here we are."

"Aw, my knight in shining armor."

"Course, cupcake, who else could you depend on to kidnap you in your sleep?" At her comment, Bonnibel is giggling again and Marceline's heart is skipping beats.

"Well, thank you for committing a Class A-1 Felony for me." Bonnie says still giggling as she drops a quick kiss onto the tip of Marceline's nose, to which Marceline is seriously afraid she'll faint. This girl will be the death of me.

"Anytime." She replies coolly, though she feels literally the exact opposite.

"What time is it?" Bonnie asks as she rolls out of Marceline's embrace to search for her phone, "I've gotta be at work at noon."

The pink-haired girl finally finds her cell phone in the pocket of her jacket after sitting up and scooping it up from the floor as Marceline admires the curve of her back from her spot still laying on the mattress. Her phone pings and she opens the message, frowning at first but then turning back to Marceline with a devilish smile.

"Hey, what are the odds you'll go to a party with me tomorrow night?"

"Whose party?" Marceline asks, yawning and stretching her arms above her head. Bonnie bites her lip.

"Lauren Spicolli-Porter."

"No." Marceline answers as soon as the name has left Bonnibel's lips, nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Please?" Bonnie drags out the word, bottom lip puffing out adorably.

"You don't even like parties, and I hate LSP." Marceline points out, rolling over so that she can press her face angrily into the pillow.

"Yeah, but Ricardio really wants to go and I haven't hung out with him in like two weeks so I kind of owe him and I know that he's gonna get drunk and then I'm gonna be the only sober one there and I'll be all lonely. I might even be peer pressured into consuming alcohol.You don't want that for me, do you, Marcy? That life of crime?" Bonnie pulls her best puppy dog face and prods at Marceline until she takes her face out of the pillow to look at her. She gives a resounding sigh.

"Fine, I'll go." Bonnie cheers excitedly, "But, princess, it's only because I don't trust your douchebag boyfriend."

Bonnibel let's the boyfriend comment go and answers only with her standard, "Don't call me princess."

hey hey everybody! i am back and better than ever and ready to get this fanfic GOING! let's DO THIS THING!