Has anyone else noticed that the longer the story went on, the longer the chapters got?

It was pouring. Bonnie sighed, sitting up and rubbing bleary eyes. Rain pounded on the windows, rattled the shutters on the floor below her, wind howled, screamed like outraged banshees. What an excellent day to stay inside.

Groaning, not too pleased with the idea of going out today, she shuffled to the kitchen. A note was sitting on the table, pinned under a book. Even if her name wasn't there, the tight scribble that skittered across the page could only belong to Marceline.

Bon, it read. Have to go out today, got to see a friend. Could be gone all day, but if you're still at work around three let me know and I'll meet you there.

She sighed again, pressing the note back under the book and staring sadly out the window. What an awful day. For the briefest of moments, as she gazed into their nearly empty pantry, Bonnie considered getting breakfast on the way to work. Then lightning exploded behind her, reflecting off the metal faucet and the blank spaces of the fridge door. It was followed nearly instantaneously by a rumble of thunder that she felt from her feet to her chest even on the fifth floor.

She blinked. Nope, not getting food in that, she thought. No way.

However, feeling particularly lazy still, Bonnie couldn't quite bring herself to eat the last of the cereal. She had toast instead. The most boring and simple kind of breakfast she could imagine. Just bread and honey.

She had to turn the light on in her study before she located her folder and bag, stubbing her toe on the bottom of her chair in the process. Then, packed, dressed and as presentable as she could manage when all she wanted to do was go back to sleep, she headed for the door. She paused only briefly to tuck an apple in her bag, just in case.

Bonnie pulled the door open and stopped in her tracks. With one hand in his pocket and the other raised to knock on her door, stood a tallish man with a cap of unkempt, platinum hair. Dressed all in black from his tattered shirt to his skinny jeans to his combat boots, he looked a lot like the kind of guy Bonnie would avoid. His icy blue eyes darted to the paper in his hand and then back to Bonnie.

"Is this where Marceline lives?" he asked. It was the kind of tone that tried very hard to be civil and tactful, but he sounded obnoxious to her. He had a tight crease around his mouth like he usually wore a smirk and that was the only expression his features felt comfortable with and there was a glint in his eyes that put her teeth on edge. Almost – almost – he came across as self-entitled. She didn't like him.

"Depends who you are, I suppose," Bonnie replied flatly. She waved a hand at him, motioning that he should step back. "And I also suppose it depends which 'Marceline' you're after. There's more than one."

As she'd suspected, a smirk quirked his mouth up, whether in amusement or some other emotion she couldn't be sure. What Bonnie was now pretty much positive of though, was that this guy was a douche. Definitely self-entitled. He did step back however, far enough for her to pull the door closed and lock it behind her.

"If you're the Marceline who lives here," he went on, standing altogether too close for comfort. "Then you're not the one I want to see. I might like to though… later." His smirk widened. Bonnie's chest tightened.

Uh-uh. She had to get out of this right now. "And who are you anyway?" she asked, ducking past him and heading for the stairs. She had no desire to be stuck in an elevator with him for any length of time.

"Ash," he said still smiling in a way Bonnie had already decided creeped her out. "Ash Kelly. And it's Marceline Abadeer in particular that I'm after. Do you know her? I'm her boyfriend."

Bonnie skipped a step at that, nearly tripping down the stairs. Ex-boyfriend, she mentally corrected him. "I… do know her," she eventually said. Part of her wanted to lie, deny and knowledge of Marceline, but recalling the fact that he was a wizard… Bonnie had no idea what kind of abilities he had. Maybe he could tell if she lied to him.

"Cool. Where can I find her?"

She glanced briefly over her shoulder. "How should I know? I'm not her nursemaid."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Aren't you her roommate?"

"Sure, but that doesn't mean I keep tabs on her. She does what she likes." And, Bonnie realised, she didn't actually know where Marceline spent her time. She supposed it didn't matter, but her brain filed it away for later analysis anyway.

"Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Haven't got a clue."

"You're not much use are you?"

Bonnie's feet hit the lobby and she spun on him, still exiting the stairwell. "Look. I know enough about her to know she isn't going to trash my apartment or invite over others who might. I know she has a brother, a father and a cousin and that's it. I know she told me that she dumped you years ago and she rather heatedly has referred to you as her 'creepy stalker' on more than one occasion. But that's all I know," and the lie rolled so easily off her tongue it scared her. "I don't need to know any more about her, so I don't ask. If you want to know where she is, go ask her brother. I'm sure he has her phone number and could call her if you were that desperate to be glared at." Bonnie whipped away and stormed towards the exit.

"Alright then, geez," he grumbled behind her. "Talk about hostile." Then something seemed to click and his heavy boots crashed across the tiles after her. "Hey, anger management!"

She stopped. Oh he did not just call me that. Bonnie was pretty darn certain her glare should have cooked him. Ash merely countered it with smug smile and planted himself between her and the exit.

"She told you we broke up?" he asked her, leaning down. He was somewhat taller than her and being loomed over wasn't a feeling she was overly fond of.

"She said you're a jerk," Bonnie replied, frowning fiercely.

A line creased his brow and for a moment, Bonnie wondered if she might have taken it a bit too far. So far as she was concerned, he could magic her into oblivion. Which didn't sound like too much fun. Then he surprised her by bursting into laughter.

"Typical," he said, fighting to get his cackling under control. "Sounds just like her to say that. She doesn't mean it. I'm the best thing that's ever happened to her."

Bonnie kept glowering at him. "Then you feel free to park yourself right over there and wait for her. She can say what she likes to you in person when she gets back." She waved a hand at the little café across the street, his eyes following.

Ash nodded his head, leered at her once more and then slouched off through the rain. With a sigh of relief, Bonnie ducked out as well. She kept as close as she could to the building as she headed down the ramp to the car-park, trying to stay as dry as possible. Once seated in her car, she locked the doors. There was no telling if Ash would do something even creepier… like follow her.

Whipping her phone from her pocket, she selected Marceline's name and sent a furious message. Don't go home. No matter what the time is. Just meet me at 32 Parnell St.

She didn't get a reply from Marceline the whole time she was driving, not that she would have looked anyway. The weather was rotten, Bonnie could barely see five feet in front of her, she wasn't going to risk a crash by dividing her attention. No way.

Of course, the lot was packed when she got there and it took nearly ten minutes to find a space. Snatching her bag from the backseat, she hurried to the elevator and smacked the button for the third floor. She was late and that really bothered her. Bonnie was going to have a cluttered day.

The elevator pinged and popped her out. With a furtive glance at her watch and a low curse, she hustled toward the office. Stopping on the way to pick up the papers she needed.

"You're late, Miss Bubblegum," said the little woman behind the desk. "And the stack is quite big this year. We've had so many entries; the post room was practically flooded with envelopes."

"Yup, thanks." Bonnie grabbed the little cardboard box and began to head down the corridor. Then she stopped and turned back. "Hey, Grace, is Rob here yet?"

"No, Miss," the clerk replied. "He won't be coming in today. Your mother had an errand for him to run."

She waved and started off again. "Just send Ian in when he gets more." It was going to be a long day. Bonnie had to shut the door to her little workspace with her foot and then spared a moment to glare at the area quite heatedly before dropping the box on the floor with a whumph.

Tossing her bag in the corner, she crossed the room to pull up the blinds. It was still pelting outside and let no more light in than had already been there. She stood there a moment, watching the trees on the sidewalk being assaulted, whipping back and forth in a mad dance, trying to escape the malicious grasp of the wind. Splashes vaulted from the street, dashing out of the way of cars as they screeched through puddles. Then lightning flashed again, lighting the whole sky up, casting flickers of green across the underside of the clouds. Not three seconds later, the accompanying thunder drummed across the heavens, a whip crack and a low rumble that once again she felt in the soles of her feet.

Sighing, she flopped onto the floor and pulled out all the envelopes contained by the box and began to organise them. Piles formed in a semi-circle around her, some neat, others more haphazard, and one pile was obnoxiously large. Schoolkids provided the largest number of these damn things every year and it appeared the amount had doubled since last time.

Bonnie grumbled to herself and pulled open one envelope, squinting in the low grey light at the design. Too hectic, overly colourful, confusing. She tossed it back in the box and moved on. She was going to get bored very quickly. Normally Rob would help her with this tedium, but there was absolutely no way to turn down an 'errand' from their mother.

Finally, her phone beeped. She ripped it from her pocket and peered at the glowing screen.

Uh… why? Marceline asked her.

She tapped the phone against her lip, thinking. Did she just tell Marceline about Ash? Or did she make something up so she wouldn't worry?

Your ex stopped by this morning looking for you. He seemed rather persistent. He might still be there later.

Bonnie made it through nearly two dozen more envelopes before her phone pinged her again. He was at the apartment? You spoke to him? Are you ok?

She smiled softly. Yes, Marceline. To all three questions. He just wanted to know where you were so he could talk to you. I told him I didn't know but he was welcome to wait across the street. Now I'm giving you warning so you know not to turn up. Figured you didn't want to see him.

This time the reply was almost instantaneous. Glad to hear it. Thanks for the heads up. Hey, what floor?

Bonnie blinked. Floor?

At that place you sent me to. Where even am I, Bon?

Third floor. Ignore the clerk, just find room 14B.

No reply. Seventeen envelopes later, the door creaked inwards slightly. She looked up but her eyes were used to being focused on the paper and she couldn't see who it was.

"Geez, Bon," Marceline griped. "Turn a light on, it's pitch black in here." Suiting her words, she flicked the switch on the wall. Bonnie blinked again, her pupils contracting at the sudden light.

"I thought you were busy," Bonnie mused. "And don't drip on the paper." Marceline was soaked from head to toe. "Don't you own an umbrella?"

Marceline just grinned at her, waved a hand and all of a sudden she was dry again. "Magic, babe, remember?" Her legs folded beneath her, she sat opposite Bonnie, staring at the piles of paper. "Uh… what's all this then?"

"Work."

"I thought you worked at the library and that research place? What's the go, huh?"

Bonnie smiled. "Didn't you read the signs?" she teased, snatching an envelope from Marceline.

"No," the other woman admitted. "I was having a minor heart attack wondering if you were ok." She stared intently at Bonnie, frown marring her features. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, Marceline," she laughed. "I sent that in my message. I'm fine. What did you expect?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I…" she exhaled. "I expected him to hurt you. He is a jerk you know."

"Yeah you told me."

"So long as you're ok then," Marceline said, smiling again now. She rocked forwards, placing her hands on the floor to hold her weight. "Then everything is fine." She pressed her lips gently to Bonnie's before falling back to her previous position. "So." Marceline waved a hand around and looked down at the papers. "What's this place then, Bonnie?"

She lifted one eyebrow. "You really didn't read the signs?" Marceline shook her head. "This is the Candy Kingdom." Bonnie grinned. "You know, headquarters, very secret and all that. Employee's only."

Marceline returned her smile. "Am I breaking the rules being here?"

"I suppose you are. But I broke them inviting you. I guess I'm a bad person."

That made Marceline laugh. "You? Oh dearest Bonnibel. You are not a bad person. I'm just a horrible influence." She shuffled around to peer over Bonnie's shoulder. "What are you even doing?"

She dropped another submission into the cardboard box. "Every year we repackage some of our product. At Christmas time we run a competition, mostly for schools, but other people enter too. The winner gets their design on the new packaging of one of our items. Pretty simple."

"Yeah," Marceline replied, fingering one loose design sitting beside her. "So… what are you doing right now?"

"Narrowing down the entries." Another went into the box. "I've been doing this for years but normally I have Rob's help. It's going to take me all week without him."

Marceline elbowed her, beaming. "Hey, Bon? That's what you've got me for, yeah?" She bowed mockingly; it didn't work as well as she might have wanted because she was seated. "Minion at your disposal. How do I do this?"

Happy to have help, Bonnie gave her a run-down of all things appropriate material were allowed to have. Then gave her a list of all the most inappropriate things. She used a few examples to make her point.

Marceline's jaw dropped at some of them. "Are you kidding me? These are school kids?" She flipped the page over so Bonnie could see. "I mean really. How old are they?"

"Primary school mostly," Bonnie replied, adding one to the 'possible' stack. "But we have high school submissions too. And the general public is allowed to compete. But for publicity purposes and other general goodwill, we usually pick a kid."

"Bonnie… no." Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. "This is… how do kids even know some of this stuff." She shuddered. "I can't look away… Do you get these every year?" Finally, Marceline dropped the paper in the box.

"Yes. Every single year we get gruesome ones, sordid ones, and more sexually implicit ones than I care to think about." She sighed. "I don't know why people bother. They have to know those designs won't be picked."

Marceline's mouth hung open. "What must your mother think about all these? Does she know her precious angel gets to look at…?" She lifted one of the crasser designs to make her point.

"No," Bonnie replied, sliding her thumb under the tab to open another envelope. "Rob and I have been very careful to keep her mostly in the dark about the designs. It's the one thing she lets us handle all on our own. Oh, sometimes she'll stick her nose in to see how we're doing, but she doesn't get the final say and we never show her any of the… inappropriate ones. She'd have a heart attack."

Marceline ribbed her. "You just like keeping secrets from your mother, don't you?"

Bonnie swatted her elbow but couldn't stop from smiling. "I don't like keeping secrets from my mum, Marcy. But… sometimes it happens. She's a lot easy to get on with if she's not… filled in on certain things."

"Psh," Marceline sighed. "And here everyone was telling me you're perfect. A saint, an angel, miss goody-two-shoes." She said the last in a silly high pitched voice. "They lied to me, Bonnie."

The tone of her voice at the end made Bonnie shiver and bite her lip. "Even I could've told you I'm no saint," she said around the lump suddenly in her throat. "I don't know why you were listening to 'everyone' in the first place. You should know better than to listen to gossip."

"I don't think that counts as 'gossip' actually, Bon," Marceline said slowly. She was peering at an entry with her eyebrows drawn down so low her eyes were almost hidden. "I can't tell what this is."

"It's no good then."

So Marceline dropped it in the box. "It's not gossip if people genuinely believe you're a goody-two-shoes. If they believe it then… it's a fact. Not gossip." She waved another paper around for emphasis. "The fact that I know they're wrong doesn't change the fact that they're pretty darn convinced they're right."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "That made very little sense. But sure, whatever you say."

Marceline smirked, eyeing her crossways. "You're a rebel, Bonnie. Your friends just don't know it yet."

"Oh I'm sure some of them do," Bonnie said lightly. Then she frowned. "Hey… Ash, right? Does he do this often?"

Marceline's smirk vanished as her eyebrows shot up. "Uh… you mean follow me everywhere? Yeah he does. I told you I've been avoiding him for years now… I don't know. Why?"

Bonnie shrugged. "He doesn't seem to be aware that you broke up with him. He introduced himself as your boyfriend. Maybe you should talk to him."

"What?" she asked incredulously. "No… oh no. No, no. There will be no talking with Ash. No."

"He's going to keep following you."

"Let him."

Bonnie put down the entry she was evaluating and twisted around to look at Marceline. Her jaw set, brow furrowed, eyes intently on her work, she did her best to ignore Bonnie. "Marcy…" Bonnie began. "What happened? What's the deal with him?"

Marceline sighed and looked up. Shockingly, her eyes were full of hurt. "He… he was a bad guy, ok? He still is. But we had so much in common and he's charming when he wants to be. I don't know. I liked him. We dated. He got possessive, a bit crazy and…" She trailed off, averting her gaze.

Bonnie put a hand on Marceline's knee. "You can tell me you know? Anything. That's what I'm here for."

A wan smile flickered across Marceline's face. "You won't be judgey?"

Returning the smile, Bonnie took her hand and squeezed. "I won't be judgey. Promise."

Marceline exhaled again. "He… he hurt me. Not physically," she added hastily at the look of complete horror on Bonnie's face. "Emotionally… mentally I guess. The psychological kind. When you spend a few hundred years telling someone they're worthless… eventually they start to believe it." She paused, swallowing. "He… thought it was his right to tell me what to do. Like I was his servant rather than his girlfriend. And yeah, he did slap me sometimes, but it was the other stuff that hurt more. The way he acted like nothing that mattered to me was worth anything. Like I wasn't worth anything." Marceline stared at the carpet between them, frowning. "The way he tried to keep me isolated, away from all the friends I had. Not many, to be sure, but I almost never saw them. And I'd get mad at him and then he'd smile and say something witty and charming and I'd forgive him. Pretend it hadn't happened."

Bonnie had absolutely no idea what to say to that. But Marceline didn't give her a chance. "I did break up with him. Nearly five hundred years ago now. I believe my exact words were 'we're over, you psycho' or something to that effect. Then I walked out. I don't know how it didn't sink in. I don't want to talk to him, Bon. I don't." Marceline's shoulders were shuddering and Bonnie had the strangest feeling that she was about to cry.

She wrapped her arms around Marceline and hugged as tightly as she could, trying to stop her friend from shaking. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." Marceline's hands clenched in her shirt. Bonnie's throat constricted and she pressed her nose to Marceline's neck. "He was wrong. You're not worthless."

Marceline took a trembling breath and exhaled, burying her face in Bonnie's shoulder. After a moment, she stopped quivering and pulled back. She hadn't cried, but she looked like she might still want to. "I'm sorry," she said hoarsely.

"Whatever for?"

"Breaking down like that," Marceline replied with a shrug. "That was kind of pathetic." She forced a watery smile onto her face but Bonnibel just kept staring at her in amazement.

Bonnie put her hands on either side of Marceline's face and forced the other woman to look her in the eyes. "No," she said. "Just… just no. That's stupid." She scrubbed one thumb along the skin of Marceline's pale cheek. "You're supposed to tell me things. And I won't laugh if you cry. I'd be a freaking awful person if I did."

Then the transparent smile from before rocketed up to blindingly normal and Marceline pulled her close, pressing her face into Bonnie's hair. "And he thinks there's even a chance I'll go back to him. Bah!" A low laugh buzzed in the back of her throat, vibrating through Bonnie's chest. "Ha, why would I do that when I have you? Perfect, beautiful you." She kissed Bonnie on the cheek and scrabbled away, brushing hair from her face. "Now, let's get this done."

For a whole two more hours they sat there sorting envelopes. Marceline got very excited when they neared the last few dozen. Only then Ian came in and dumped another box on the floor by the door. He spared Marceline no more than a passing glance before heading back out and in the space of his five second visit; Marceline's expression went from elated to grumpy.

"You were right," she grumbled, ripping an envelope open much more forcefully than was required. "This is going to take forever. Do we really have to look at them all?"

"Yes, Marcy, we have to look at all of them." Bonnibel tossed three she'd only given a cursory glance into the first box. Then, with a sigh, she rocked back onto her heels and stood, knees creaking softly, a protestation after being immobile for so long. "But how about we get lunch?"

Marceline cast her eyes behind her and lifted an eyebrow. "Bonnie it's still raining cats and dogs. I'm not going out in this."

"So? I didn't suggest leaving. I said lunch." She stuck her hand out and, with the smallest of pouts, Marceline took it.

"If we're not going outside," Marceline grouched. "Where are we getting the food from?"

"Seriously? There's a cafeteria."

Marceline's mouth fell open once again. "You're kidding me right now, yeah? There is not a cafeteria here! Why?" She paused, tapping a finger against her thigh. "What do they sell?"

Bonnie laughed. "This is the Candy Kingdom. What do you think they sell?"

Of course that made Marceline's eyes light up. "They're catering to my sweet tooth. How thoughtful."

"They serve proper food too, you know."

"Can I mix and match?"

"I'm sure you can."

Marceline beamed at her and yanked the door in. "What are we waiting for then?"

The cafeteria was on the second floor, an area of polished white stone and glass windows. Half of the space was indoors and the other half was through glass doors on a terrace, complete with gardens, and even a water fountain. The tables and chairs were all wicker and glass and curled iron decorations, padded with beige cushions. Her parents went all out on everything, even on an area used primarily by their staff. A happy staff member was a productive staff member.

"Whoa," Marceline breathed, stepping into the room. "This is the cafeteria? Wow. I mean, I know I shouldn't be comparing it to high school ones, but that's all I've got. The last place I was that had a cafeteria for the staff owned a vending machine." She moseyed about and collapsed into one of the chairs by the balcony. "Cool." Marceline rolled back to her feet and flounced over, hands jammed into her jean pockets. "So what's for lunch?"

Bonnibel pointed at the sign above the buffet. "Whatever you like basically."

"No way. No way." Marceline was at the buffet before Bonnie could even blink and she had already examined every item of food by the time she wandered over. "You weren't kidding, huh. Look at this. I mean… this is obscene. What workplace even does this for its staff?"

"We do," Bonnie replied with a smile. "Good for productivity and all that. Are you planning on leaving any of that?"

Marceline grinned self-consciously. "Um… no? I'm so hungry, Bon. I didn't eat breakfast."

"Why not?"

"I know, I know," Marceline replied, waving a fork-bearing hand. "Most important meal of the day and all that. But I had to go see my cousin this morning and I didn't have time to eat before I left. I was going to eat there, but when I got your text I panicked and left. Now I really need to eat something."

"Alright… well… whatever." Bonnie blinked at her concernedly. "You're not going to go crazy are you?"

Marceline laughed. "No, no. Don't you know me well enough by now? I'm not going psycho on you. Just ravenous."

Bonnie smiled again, relieving her of a plate of pasta and carrying it over to a table. "Pace yourself. And I'm appropriating this pasta. I don't know what you did to it, but it smells great."

"Oh ho! You think you can take my pasta?" Marceline chuckled. She didn't try to reclaim it though, simply sat and picked up her fork. "So, do you plan on taking your work home with you?"

Bonnie shook her head. "I'm not… no. Nor do I plan on going back to the apartment tonight. Hey, do you think we can get that second box done this afternoon?"

Marceline frowned. "Possibly… When do you call it quits?"

With a wry grimace, Bonnie muttered, "Nine to five, Marcy. But I generally leave at six."

"And when did you get here this morning?"

Bonnibel chewed her lower lip, face flushing. "About eight… Although I normally arrive at seven just in case."

"Of course you do, you're a workaholic. Alright then," Marceline said rather loudly. "How about we get that second box done and then go home? How many days does it usually take to pick a winner?"

"About a week."

"A week? Oh… well then…" Marceline trailed off, using her fork to push food around her plate but clearly thinking about something else. "Alright, proposition for you: two boxes a day – three if we turn up early and leave late every day – for seven days-"

"Five days. A working week, Marceline. The winner is announced on Boxing Day."

Marceline's fork clattered against the rim of her plate as she dropped it. "Babe, hate to tell you this, but you did not leave yourself enough time. Even if I help every day, that's not long enough. Wait… how many entries?"

"Uh…" Bonnie tried to recall how many Grace had said. A lot… She'd have to check before they left. "Grace didn't give me an estimate, but I'm going to take a stab and say about five hundred."

"That's not as bad as I thought."

"And Rob will be here tomorrow to lend a hand."

"Oh, psh then. We can make that deadline easy." Confident grin back in place, she resumed eating. "No worries." A thought crossed her face and she frowned. "Hold the phone; you said you weren't going back to the apartment. You gonna sleep here or something? Wait… why aren't you going back?"

Bonnie snorted. "Come on. Your stalker ex-boyfriend is lurking outside. No way am I going back while there's a chance he'll… I don't know… jump me in the hall. Uh-huh. Next stupid question please."

"Alright, so where are you planning on staying? Rain's?"

"Maybe. What are you going to do? You won't go back. Hey, how are we going to get rid of him? I dislike the idea of never returning to my apartment because of a psycho like him."

Marceline waved that concern away. "I called my dad. He'll have some of his best guys on it in the morning. And I'm gonna stay with Keila tonight. She already offered to let me crash. I dare say she wouldn't mind you staying too… If you don't want to alarm Rain that is."

Her fork froze half way to her mouth as that thought processed. Rain would worry; no doubt about it. And there would be all manner of questions and concerns raised about how healthy it was to date a woman with a somewhat insane ex like Ash. No… she couldn't tell Rain about that. Nope. No sir.

She sighed. "Are you sure it wouldn't bother Keila? You're right, telling Rain would open up all manner of problems. Best to let that stay where it is. But I'd hate to be a bother."

"Nah," Marceline told her, beaming still. "She won't care. She's a musician. Although you might want to be careful what you say. She doesn't know that you… know, yeah? Also she lives with two guys. But I'll crush them if they look at you funny. Don't worry."

Bonnie chuckled. "I'll hold you to that." Her fork scraped against the bowl and she looked down, startled by the noise. Empty? How had that happened? She blinked, confused and stood up. "I'm going back, ok? Don't make yourself sick."

Marceline grinned. "Course not. I won't be long."

Bonnibel sorted about three dozen entries before Marceline slouched back in. A bread-roll jammed in her mouth, something brown staining the edges. She lifted an eyebrow at it as Marceline sat.

"I melted a few chocolate bars," Marceline told her around a mouth full. "Then used it like butter. Very tasty. How we doing?"

"The first box is done," Bonnie informed her. "Just this one to do. Ian will have more in the morning."

"What's his job?"

"He's the mailman, Marcy," Bonnie said dryly. "He separates the contest entries from everything else. And makes sure they get to the right floor."

"He does that all by himself?" She seemed impressed.

"Goodness, no. He has a few henchmen at his disposal. But he does the contest entries personally. He doesn't like the idea that they could be tampered with."

"Dedicated."

The rest of the afternoon passed mostly in silence. Well… silent save for the unceasing drumming of rain, of course. It didn't let up even once, just kept pounding on the roof as though hoping to gain entrance. At one point, bored of the quiet, Marceline began to sing softly to herself. It was nonsense mostly, but Bonnie didn't mind, it was rather nice to have something to work to.

Just before five, Marceline tossed the last entry into the discard box and leaned back stretching. Despite the lengthening days, the overcast outside created a premature twilight, darkening everything. Thunder boomed nearby and the ceiling light flickered.

"Right, done," Marceline sighed. "Let's bounce, babe." Her hip beeped and she pulled her phone out. "Keila. She and the guys are going out tonight. If we hurry you might get to meet them before they go. Keen?"

Bonnie shrugged. "Sure. Let's get going then." Marceline picked up the box and opened the door while Bonnie placed the ones they'd decided were at least slightly worthwhile in a drawer. She locked it. Her mother's paranoia wasn't to be escaped, not even when Cynthia herself had no say in the goings on.

They dropped the box off with Grace who was inexplicably still around. "You should go home, Grace," Bonnie told her gently. "Don't be driving in the dark through this downpour."

"Of course, Miss Bubblegum," the little woman said brightly. "Let me just take care of this box and I'll be off."

"Take care of yourself," Bonnie said as sternly as she could.

"Miss Bubblegum?" Marceline hooted when they entered the stairwell. "Oh god, I have to use that. Miss Bubblegum!" She nearly tripped she was laughing so hard.

"It's not all that funny, Marceline."

"I dunno… I think it's pretty funny. You don't really seem like a 'Miss Bubblegum'. It's just funny to think of you like that."

She grunted. "Whatever."

"Aw," Marceline very nearly purred, stepping into the parking lot. "Cheer up." She looped one arm through Bonnie's and kissed her cheek. "Gimme a smile." Her voice, pitched low, growled in her throat, breath tickling Bonnie's ear. While it might not have been a smile, the heat that boiled in her cheeks was good enough for Marceline. "That's better."

Her heart thudded, her ribs practically creaked with the force of it. Tension oozed from her shoulders no matter how hard she tried to be angry at her unrepentant girlfriend. With that blazing smile fixed on her face and the knowledge that it was rather silly to be upset by the laughter anyway, forgiveness slipped past her easily and she found herself smiling too.

Marceline let her go, only because she had to drive, and as she keyed the ignition, engine cranking over lethargically, those intense brown eyes never left her face. A shiver that had nothing to do with the rain-lowered temperature crawled down her spine and sent warm bubbles sputtering through her stomach. Her breath hitched once and she forced a deep inhalation to calm herself. The car stuttered to life and she drove out into the deluge.

"So, how do I get to Keila's place?"

Winkyface... really? *touches* Thank you. :D I do like interaction, it is fun. Cool name, by the way. Do you know Frowneyface? Or Smileyface? *sneaks away to hide self in corner*

Well I'm glad you like it, Ryoko05. I honestly don't ever expect other people to like my writing. *hands you a Christmas cookie*

*hugs all around*