This is a really long chapter. And for good reason. And now - only a few chronological days late - it's Christmas Eve in storyland! Whee!~ Sort of. Who can pick the character from the show played by the bouncer in this chapter, eh? Got some virtual cake if you can. *dangles*
"Geez, take a chill pill."
Bonnie didn't stop tapping her nails on the table though, and she couldn't stop bouncing and she couldn't stop panicking. Marceline sat down at the table across from her and covered her hands up with her own to stop the clicking. Bonnie turned her wide eyes up to her roommate and looked away again quickly. For once that blinding smile didn't reassure her like it should.
"Bon, please just relax," Marceline whispered. "Nothing bad is going to happen. I solemnly swear."
"You really shouldn't make a girl a promise if you can't keep it, Marceline," Bonnie murmured. She tried to extract her hands and resume her tapping but Marceline was so much stronger than she was. It was an effort of futility.
"Take a deep breath. Think about something else. Please?" Marceline paused, perhaps waiting for Bonnie to think of that something else, perhaps hoping she'd calm down on her own. Neither happened. "What are your other friends doing for Christmas? Will they be there this evening?"
"Rain and Jake will be," Bonnie affirmed. "I'm not sure about Finn; I think he's going to a party with the guys from his college class. We'll all probably do something tomorrow."
"Robert will be there, yeah?"
She nodded.
Marceline pursed her lips. "You're not making this easy, Bonnibel. Help me out here."
Bonnie chewed her lip in thought. No matter what crossed her mind, in the end, it always spiralled back to her parents. She could see their reactions already, knew exactly what they'd say, exactly what they'd do. There would be a great deal of yelling.
Stop it, her inner voice cried. Stop thinking about it. Listen to Marceline. She's actually being intelligent for once. Take a deep breath and calm down. This is nothing. Nothing. No different to when you told them you didn't want to go to business school.
And she listened to it. Except that telling her parents she didn't want to go to business school had been quite a dramatic fiasco as well. That wasn't really the point. She took a deep breath.
"What's your family doing for Christmas, Marceline?" she asked as she exhaled.
A tight smile curled Marceline's mouth. She knew Bonnie wasn't really relaxed, this was all for show. A duck on a pond; calm on the surface, kicking like crazy underneath. "We'll probably have lunch," Marceline informed her slowly, squeezing her hands. "Pretty boring, but we haven't celebrated Christmas properly in a good long while now. Heck, I don't think I've bought Marshall a present in a few hundred years."
She bobbed her head absently. That was pretty much how the whole morning passed by. Oh, it crawled, every minute taking at least a few thousand years, but it did pass. A few times, Marceline even managed to distract her properly. With music or a movie or just by getting a little too close, she was quite excellent at side-tracking Bonnie, a gift that hadn't been appreciated until this moment. She refused to eat lunch. No matter how much Marceline tried to convince her otherwise, Bonnie was pretty sure she'd never keep a meal down anyway. An apple was all her roommate could get her to consume, it didn't make her feel any better, but at least she wouldn't be hungry when she spoke to her parents.
Reluctantly, Bonnie got changed into that shimmery dress that couldn't quite decide what colour it wanted to be. Then she sat at the kitchen table, put her head in her hands and sighed. She didn't want to go; she didn't want to tell them anything. All she wanted was to pretend it didn't matter and let them exist without ever being informed.
"Hey, Bonnie," Marceline said quietly from the door to the living room. "We should go or we'll be late. I know how you feel about punctuality and all that."
"We could leave in an hour and still be on time," she grumbled.
"Yes, but your parents expect you earlier. You know that. Come on." She stepped over to Bonnie and pulled her gently to her feet. Marceline's brown eyes filled her vision and the other woman smiled. "Don't be silly, now, Bon. You can do this. It's Christmas. There will be lots of happiness, alright?"
"I feel sick," was all she could say.
Marceline brushed hair from her face and cupped her cheek. "Hey. It will be fine, okay? Everything will go smoothly and your parents will yell and argue just like you expect. Unless you don't want to tell them I suppose, in which case none of that will happen."
Bonnie's eyes widened, surprised by that last bit. "You… you won't tell them?"
The smile she got for that made her heart stutter. "Of course not. They're your parents. I'd be a right bitch if I told them and you weren't ready. I'm a lot of things, Bon, but I'm not a bitch." Marceline kissed her cheek. "Let's go," she whispered, stepping away.
It was only then that Bonnie registered what she was wearing and her eyes pretty much fell out of her head. "What… What are you wearing?" she spluttered.
Marceline laughed. "Do you like it?" she asked far too sweetly. It was a dress. A dress. Marceline was wearing a dress of all things. Black, of course, with a red sash around the waist, but otherwise a very simple thing. The inside of the dress was red too and it appeared to be layered, strips of red cloth showing around the neckline and sleeves as well, even the ruffles under the skirt peeked through a bright crimson. It came to her knees and below that she wore black tights and knee high red boots. Bonnie grimaced, naturally the red boots.
"You know it's uncanny for you to wear this in the heat, right?" Bonnie asked, pointing to the boots. Marceline stuck her tongue out. "Not the reaction you wanted then?" Bonnie teased. She smiled; a proper smile this time. Curious. "You look very nice."
Marceline huffed, frowning. "You say 'nice' a lot. Is that code for something, Bonnibel?"
"Sure. Code for 'nice'." She offered a hand. "You were the one who wanted to go. Shall we?"
Sighing, rolling her eyes, Marceline exhaled, "Fine." She took Bonnie's hand though.
Thankfully, the rain had stopped overnight. It had ripped quite a squall through the city, but left in the wee hours of the morning leaving everything smelling clean, fresh. A cool tang whispered through the air, not at all like Christmas usually felt, but it was better than the muggy heat that usually accompanied her drive to her parents' place.
"Why are you wearing a dress, Marceline?" Bonnie asked not long into the drive. Her friend had plugged her little musical device into the stereo mere moments earlier and was now browsing for a tune she liked the look of.
"Hum?" she asked, not looking up. "Oh, the dress. Yes well… Seemed like a good idea." Marceline shrugged. "What with your anal retentive parents, a possibly nuclear revelation and the general atmosphere the rich people bring to these things, I figured it might be a good idea to dress a little better than usual. Plus it'll give Lucy something to talk about."
That was a valid answer. The rest of the trip passed mostly in silence. A few times they conversed briefly on one topic or other and on several occasions Marceline turned up the radio to blare a song and sing along. Bonnie didn't mind so much, it was amusing. Once, Marceline slapped her knee to draw her attention to the song playing, but other than that, silence it was. Except for the radio of course.
"Hey," Marceline said sharply, noting where they were. "Did we drive past that place last time?" She twisted in her seat to peer behind them. "Why didn't we stop there before?" she whined. "They have the best ice-cream in the whole world."
"I think you're over exaggerating," Bonnie replied, taking the turn off to her parents' neighbourhood. "Hardly the whole world."
Marceline laughed. "You forget who you're talking to, Bon. Vampire, remember? Been around a while, seen a lot of ice-cream parlours." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Those guys," she opined, "make the best ice-cream I've ever eaten."
"We'll stop on the way home then. Although they may not be open the day before Christmas."
"We can still check?"
Bonnie nodded. "Sure."
"Excellent. Wow, lots of people are here, huh," Marceline noted as they pulled into her mother's drive. "Good thing it's a long driveway. Where do they all go?"
"The back yard is pretty big if you recall," Bonnie muttered. "They'll have set up pavilions I dare say. Possibly the hall."
"Hall?"
"It's a demountable," Bonnie explained. "They keep it stored at the church for most of the year and pull it out for special occasions. It's not very fancy, but they'll have dressed it up."
Marceline's jaw lolled open. "Your parents own an assemble-it-yourself building. Holy flying spongecake, Bonnie. Your parents are… wow, crazy."
"Pretty much. Told you they like to be a little bit extreme." She turned the car off but didn't let go of the steering wheel.
Marceline rested one hand on Bonnie's arm. "Hey." She glanced over at her friend; Marceline's eyes were full of warmth and concern. "It'll be alright. Take a deep breath, one thing at a time, yeah? I'm here. And you don't have to say a thing to them if you don't want."
As if she really had that choice. Of course she had to tell her parents. She'd promised. Bonnie got out of the car, Marceline following suit with a wary look in her eye. The kind of look one gets when a friend mentions casually what it might be like to go skydiving with a faulty parachute.
"Good afternoon, Bonnibel," Manfred boomed. He stood in the archway leading to the back of the house in a black suit, wrap-around sunglasses concealed his eyes and his blonde hair was cut shorter than she remembered. He was getting on in years though; it was possible he cut it shorter now to conceal baldness. He threw out his arms and Bonnie hugged him.
"It's good to see you, Manfred," she told him honestly. He was in charge of security at her parents' functions and had been since she was only small. She vaguely recalled him giving her rides on his broad shoulders to keep her occupied before a party got underway. He was the one who'd taught her rudimentary martial arts. She hadn't displayed much talent, but had persisted with it long enough to be capable of defending herself.
"How have you been, dear?" he asked gently. As gently as a rockslide could anyway. He pulled a clipboard from his coat pocket and put a cross beside her name, marking her as in attendance.
"Very well, thank you. It's been an… interesting year, what with Rob moving out and getting a new roommate and all that," she told him. "But it's been pretty good. No complaints." No sir, not a single one.
He chuckled and it was like an earthquake. "That's good to hear." Manfred nodded over her shoulder at Marceline who smiled blindingly at him. Good thing he was wearing sunglasses. "Who's this then?"
"My roommate, Marceline. Dad said he'd mark her down as invited, but if it didn't happen, consider her my plus one."
Manfred scanned the list (or she assumed he did, it was hard to tell with his eyes hidden). He rolled his lip under. "Mmmm… oh yes here. Marceline Abadeer?" He looked up as he spoke her name.
"That's me," Marceline sang, sliding closer. "How about that, Bon, eh? Your dad actually did invite me."
She sighed. "It would seem he did," she muttered earning a raised eyebrow from Manfred. Marceline stepped up beside her and stuck out a hand. Carefully – and Bonnie imagined he looked her up and down judgementally – he took it in his own giant paw and shook it.
"Pleasure to meet you, guard captain fellow," Marceline said cheerily, throwing on her English accent at the end. Manfred huffed but couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his weathered face. "I'd hate to be crashing a party you're bouncing," she informed him. "I dare say you throw quite a punch."
Manfred rumbled a laugh. "I make a point of not punching the guests," he replied. "Even the uninvited ones."
Marceline threw Bonnie a pointed look. "Good to know," she said, still smiling.
"Bonnibel, good of you to join us." Her father emerged from the front of the house burdened with a large sack and he locked the door behind himself awkwardly. He shifted the weight, hauling the sack by its cords up onto his shoulder, grunting a little at the effort. Then he turned, heading their way, staggering only slightly under the weight. "Oh and Marceline is here too," he said happily. "Good to see you again, dear. Yes." He hefted the bag again.
"Would you like some help, dad?" Bonnie asked worriedly. She stepped forward to take the sack from him but he fended her off gently.
"No thanks, love. If you'd like to help, go give your brother a hand with the Christmas tree. He's been having a mighty hard time of it." He gave Marceline an amused look. "Mostly thanks to Marshall's interference I suppose."
"Would you like me to take that, sir?" Manfred asked politely, tucking the clipboard away.
Alex hesitated only a moment before he sighed and let Manfred relieve him of his burden. "Thank you, Fred, you're a good fellow. Just over to the pavilion. The others will put it up."
Manfred nodded and carted the bag through to the yard as if it weighed nothing at all. Arms swinging by his sides now, Alex let out a whooshing breath and made to follow.
"Mr B," Marceline said before he could vanish. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
He blinked. "That depends on what you consider helping."
She smiled her blinding smile and chuckled. "I'm not my brother, Mr B. I do know how to help out."
Alex returned her grin. "In that case, you might like to take your cooking skills into the kitchen and give Cynthia a hand. She's been grumbling all day about the lack of hands in the kitchen but wouldn't let anyone help out." He shook his head. "She even turned Robert down."
"A shocking first," Bonnie mumbled.
As they emerged into the yard Marceline gasped. Before them, the area had been practically renovated in the month since she'd last seen it. The open space was now filled with an open sided pavilion with low hanging eaves in case of rain. Shaded sails had been set up all over the place to connect the pavilion to the main house and to provide nice places for clusters of tables and chairs that were somewhat removed from the more crowded rotunda. Spikes tipped with lights had been driven into the grass in strategic locations and little paper lanterns hung from anywhere that gave good support, the bulbs within flickering like flames and casting multi-coloured light across the lawn. Which was mostly pointless given the early hour of the afternoon, but the effect would be nice when the sun set.
"You were not kidding," Marceline breathed, staring around in wonderment. "I was pretty convinced you were just exaggerating but… no… Wow."
Alex chuckled again. "Good to know we still have the power to impress people. Ah," he said, pointing to a trio of young men standing on a trestle table to hook more lanterns to the eaves of the pavilion. "I'd best go help them out. If they break a lantern your mother will pop a valve."
They stood there for a moment, mostly so Marceline could take everything in. Then, "Ok, I'm good now," Marceline informed her. "Everything has been absorbed. Kitchen?" Bonnie pointed her up the steps to the house; her mother would be inside cooking. "Christmas tree?" Again Bonnie lifted a finger to indicate the object in question. This time at the far end of the cupola. "Gotcha. Have fun."
Bonnie grunted earning a laugh.
She meandered through the throng of people already there towards the tree. Bonnie heard well before she saw them; Marshall had a ladder-back chair tilted precariously up onto two legs and he was standing tiptoe on the arched backrest with a large red bauble dangling from his fingertips. His tongue was pressed between his teeth, ankles rocked the chair forward slightly and he slid the cord over a branch, the chair canted slightly to one side and he threw out an arm to keep his balance, bending his knees and riding it carefully back so all four feet were on the ground. Robert was standing off to one side, wringing his hands anxiously as he watched. Bonnie knew he had no reason to fear Marshall falling, but she was worried that if the chair did fall out from under him he'd end up floating and that was not something to be explained away easily.
The tree itself was a mess of tinsel, freckled with little lights and peppered all over with other assorted decorations. Slices of coloured light winked off baubles and faux-snow encrusted elves and crystals and all kinds of things. Several happy Santas smiled from within the foliage, even a baking Mrs Christmas, tray of cookies in hand. Trails of plastic beads looped across branches, pearlescent ones attempting to mimic the snow that would never fall, red strings of them wound together with golden in a spectacular imitation of a sunrise cresting the tree's silhouette.
"Bonnie!" Marshall leaped from the chair – tilting it back, wood slipping beneath his feet – as he called to her. He skidded to a stop in front of her, grinning. "How's it going?"
"Oh… you know… forward I guess," she replied absently, eyeing him up and down. Garbed in a most unusual outfit, Bonnie couldn't stop herself from staring. White collared shirt, complete with long sleeves (although the sleeves were rolled to his elbows), under a black silk vest, patterned on the back and so formal it was unfamiliar. He even sported a pair of black trousers from the legs of which peeked shoes polished and shined so Bonnie could see her reflection in their black tops. "Is that a tie?" she blurted.
His grin never slipping, Marshall informed her, "It's Bub's," without even a hint of sheepishness. He did tap its red length with one thumb however, almost proud. "He got me to buy the rest, but the tie's his."
Now Robert, looking only a little peeved, slouched up. He slouched. Robert. Was slouching. How uncommon. He was dressed in much the same thing as Marshall; it was kind of strange, seeing them in matching clothes. Disconcerting. Robert's tie was more of a salmon colour though and his shirt had a tinge of pink as well. Other than that though, wow, they matched.
Rob nodded at her slowly, eyes asking her all kinds of questions she couldn't decipher. Eventually he put forth, "Good to see you here, Elle. We didn't think you'd come."
Marshall crossed his arms in pseudo-indignation and blew out his cheeks. "Yeah," he whined, "You're not even on time. What's the deal, huh?"
Bonnie stared up at the tree, avoiding their eyes – their knowing eyes – and grumbled, "Traffic." Robert tilted his head to one side, still with that plethora of unasked questions. He didn't speak, but he did (after an uncomfortable moment) follow her gaze to the tree. "You don't have a star yet," Bonnie noted.
"Neither of us is quite tall enough to reach the top," Robert explained with a frown at the tree's peak. "Even with the chair. And the step ladder was commandeered a while back to hang lanterns out the front and hasn't returned yet."
Marshall – with a sly grin, a wink and one of those crooked sidelong glances that promised an overabundance of mischief – prompted, "I could give you a lift, Bonnie? I bet the two of us could get the star on top."
It was slight, but Bonnie's mouth curled down at the corners. "That's distasteful," she opined. She left unsaid the fact that he could, technically, do it himself. He shouldn't do that. But he might, and that worried her. "Do you have other decorations to hang?"
"No," Rob replied. He wasn't looking at Bonnie though, he was busy glaring red hot death at Marshall, she assumed for his previous comment. "That was the last one."
"Hey, bro." Marceline punched her brother in the shoulder as she flounced over to them, smiling; a stool tucked under one arm, hand wound between the legs to clutch one of the supports. "You haven't finished yet. Come on; let's get this star up there, yeah?" She twirled the chair up into both hands and slammed it onto the seat of the other chair hard enough to elicit quite a bang.
In a most unladylike manner, Marceline proceeded to clamber up the short stack of tilted furniture, giving her an excess of height – more than enough to top the tree. She didn't seem to care that she was wearing a dress, but Bonnie's previously gentle frown slowly bent into more of a scowl. Something her mother would also deem unladylike.
"Heads up," Marshall called. He lobbed the golden star underarm up at his sister, little golden glittery motes danced in the light of the room, blinking like a multitude of yellow eyes as the star spun through the air in an arc mostly graceful and only slightly wobbly. Marceline caught it one handed and plopped it down on the leafy protrusion capping the tree, winding a cord around once, twice to bind it in place.
Then, with all of the elegance she could muster, she bounced from the chairs and flopped to solid ground, heels hitting the wood floor in a clatter. "There see," she enthused, spinning to gaze up at the tree, fists planted on her hips, head canted to one side. "Looks much better now. Don'tcha reckon?" She ribbed Rob gently and spun her grin to his face. "Why so glum, chum? Cheer up a little, it's Christmas."
Marshall shook his head. "He's been glowering like that all day," he said sourly. Then, leaning closer to his sister to stage whisper he added, "I think he's secretly the Grinch."
Marceline barked a laugh and peered up at Robert, eyes crinkled in the corners with amusement. "Funny. I said the same thing about Bonnie once. Must be a family thing," she decided. With a sharp sound, she clapped her hands together and looked back over the pavilion. "So when's this shindig officially get underway, anyhow?"
"Is mum done in the kitchen then?" Bonnie asked her, frown fading. Somehow, she never could seem to manage a consistently disgruntled simmer when it came to Marceline. It just rolled away like water off a duck's back.
"Yup," she declared, leaning over to Bonnie. "She even let me ice the cake. Nice woman, your mother. Very agreeable."
For now. Bonnibel didn't voice that though, it was defeatist and not a good way to embark on any kind of endeavour. "Sure. The… shindig," she said it slowly and with a wry twist to her lips, "will begin as soon as mum says it does."
"Which means," Rob expanded, "It will start when she's satisfied everything is perfect."
"And of course all the guests should be in attendance," Bonnie went on.
"Or at least most of them," Robert concluded with a nod. "She likes to have the majority of her audience already here before anything actually happens. That said, it's not like there's going to be party games or anything like that. It'll mostly just be people talking and eating and so forth."
"Sounds boring," Marshall decided unhappily. "What kind of party doesn't have anything exciting to do? Rich people." That last sounded almost like a curse… or perhaps a lamentation, or even an unfortunate marriage of the two.
His sister concurred with a muttered, "Rich people. Who even understands their innermost mental workings? It's a foreign place."
Bonnie's mouth sawed open with a piqued gasp. "Seriously?" she asked somewhat shrilly.
Marceline turned her palms out in supplication. "Cool your jets, Bon," she said with a smile. "But your parents do have a self-assemble, pre-packaged building stored and ready for deployment. And an almost-life-sized chess set. It's weird."
Marshall nodded. "Yeah, that's true," he said, smiling. "So what do you do at one of these parties? Just eat cheese cubes and drink champagne or what?"
"Eat," Marceline said happily, eyes shining. She nodded towards the stairs where Cynthia was staggering down the steps carrying a teetering tower of platters and plastic containers. "I'm gonna go help her out. Maybe she'll give me candy." With a flash of teeth, Marceline darted across the lawn – still being very unladylike – and relieved Cynthia of her burden.
"She is not acting like herself," Marshall mentioned slowly. Bonnie spared him a short glance, just long enough to catch the flick of his eyes in her direction. He lowered his voice slightly, probably so Rob wouldn't hear, and muttered, "Actually, she's been acting out of character a good deal lately. I blame you, Bonnie."
She shrugged. "Sure, if you want," Bonnie replied absently, too busy concentrating on her mother and girlfriend covering the tables with food. It was almost surreal to see how they spoke to each other; not arguing, not glaring, not even frowning. She wished it would stay that way, she wished she could be sure that nothing would change, that they would continue to get on amicably, but deep down she knew that would never happen. It was only a matter of time (and a few words) before things fell out. That thought made her sad.
Marshall touched her elbow, glanced once at Rob (who was wandering over to talk to Norman who had just arrived) and then motioned to the table. Curiously, Bonnie stared at him as they crossed the grass, wondering at the serious expression he wore. Softly, and with one more glance around him, he said, "No seriously, Bonnibel. She's been acting all over the place. I've never seen her try to make a good impression before. Ever. Marceline's never cared what people think, this is highly abnormal behaviour."
She blinked. "Really?" Her voice sounded funny to her ears, too high by half. Although it might have just been her heart drumming in her throat distorting the sound. "What…" Bonnie had to pause to catch her breath, swallow, still her hands. "What do you mean though? Weird how?"
"She's… never cared before," he explained carefully, eyes still watching to make sure he wasn't overheard. "Never enough to… to… to try." He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably and growled, "I don't know how to describe it properly. But… it's like she wants to be liked. She never has before." Marshall rubbed the side of his neck and huffed. "I dunno. Just different."
"Oh… Hey, I –"
"Bonnibel, take this for me would you," her mother said softly, cutting across her. She waved a green salad dish, preoccupied with laying out cutlery. Gently, Bonnie relieved Cynthia of the dish, fingers splaying across the cool plastic. Hand now free, Cynthia set it to tidying the table as well. Presentation was something she was particularly pernickety about.
She turned, about to say something to Marshall, but not only was he gone (off to hinder Marceline it seemed) but she couldn't remember what she'd been about so say anyway. Sighing, Bonnie placed the dish on one of the mats about half way down the table. It was a long table, although most people probably wouldn't all sit at it – preferring to seat in small groups about the lawn – it was set out to accommodate the possibility.
Shockingly, the sun was already half sunk by the time the food was finished and the table was up to her mother's exacting standards. She stared down at the tablecloth, all white lace and gold embroidery, the cutlery, the plates and cups and napkin holders all matched. Everything was coordinated and Bonnie sighed, realising that her meticulous mother had contingencies for everything. A place for everything and everything in its place.
"Bonnibel!" a voice sang behind her.
Turning she saw a purple-garbed Lucy striding under the arch. Her newest fellow, Daniel, was not two steps behind her and they weren't the only ones just arriving. Rain and Jake meandered through after them, accompanied by Candy. Bonnie glanced down at her watch, 5.08pm it told her was the time, which made sense; all of the invites had stated a five o'clock start.
Lucy beamed at her, stopping beside Bonnie to alternate between inspecting the foods and peering at her curiously. "Hey, Elle," she said, eyes fixing on Bonnie now, glittering sharply in the dying sunlight. "How've you been and all that?"
"Pretty good," she replied, nodding a greeting to Daniel. His wall of white teeth flickered her way, genuine and good-naturedly. "Not much is new considering we only spoke a few weeks ago."
Lucy waved a hand, collecting a plate and ladling food in generous scoops onto it. "Bah, of course there's something new," she proclaimed. "There is always something new. Never a day goes by that something new doesn't happen." She lifted a spoon and waved it for emphasis. "One just has to know where to look for it. Hello, Marceline, good to see you here."
Marceline bounced over to them; she already had a plate in hand, her extraordinary grin slipped only for the briefest of instances before she recovered. "Why hello there, Lucy," she chirped. "Did you think I wasn't gonna show?"
"Didn't expect you to get an invite more like," Lucy said softly. Her eyes. Oh how full of knowing they were and it scared Bonnie out of her mind.
Marceline laughed at that, her plate tilting to one side perilously, in danger of spilling its contents to the grass. "Ha, that wasn't going to bother me so much, Lucy," she said, righting her plate. "Even if Mr B hadn't put me on the guest list, I could always come as Bonnie's plus one." She paused, eyes glazing as she disappeared to another plane of existence momentarily. When they snapped back to her current dimension her grin took on a darker cast and she told Lucy conspiratorially, "Or I could've just crashed. There was no way I wasn't going to be here, Lucy."
The other woman blinked, clearly not having expected that response. Before she could do more than open her mouth, however, Dan interrupted her, "Let's get food then." He motioned along the table and its profusion of foods. "I'm starved."
"You shouldn't have told her you'd have crashed," Bonnie hissed, snatching a plate off the table. Marceline just smiled at her. "You know now that she'll tell everyone."
"Bon," Marceline said in a surprisingly reasonable tone, "I didn't actually crash. She can tell them whatever she pleases; the point is I do have an invitation. Lacking that," here, she leant over until she was far too close to Bonnie for her liking, "I have you." Her smile was devilish now and made Bonnie shiver despite all her self-control.
"That's all well and good, but Lucy can take a benign phrase and turn it into all kinds of horrifying gossip," Bonnie deplored. Once she had food on her plate, she headed off towards a small table by a tree strung up with fairy lights and paper lanterns. It was a good distance away from both the buffet table and the pavilion.
Marceline trotted to catch up with her and stared at her worriedly, "Is she that bad?" They sat at the iron table, both on the same side so they could watch the rest of the guests. Or… well… Bonnie was watching the guests; Marceline just kept staring at her.
"Pretty much."
Obviously, Marceline didn't know how to respond, so they sat in silence for a long while. Not an awkward silence, not a tense one either, just regular silence. Marceline rotated her plate at one point and Bonnie forked the cherry tomato she'd been eating around with a smile. As it happened, that was when Jake and Rain appeared, she carrying a plate in either hand, he dragging a table behind him and a chair under his arm. Jake pressed the second table against theirs, and dropped into the chair. Each table had three chairs arranged around it anyway so Rain didn't have to worry about that.
"Hey girls," Jake said, pulling his plate closer. It was piled so high it could probably be seen from outer space. "How are we this evening. And geez, Elle, your mother went all out on the food."
"She does that every year, Jake," Bonnie reminded him, smiling as he practically buried his face in his plate. "You should expect it by now."
"I'm pretty convinced," said Rain fondly, "the only time he ever eats enough is at one of Cynthia's parties." Jake beamed at her around a mouth full of lasagne.
"That looks about right," Marceline agreed, smile tugging at her lips.
Conversation was once again interrupted, this time as everyone else decided to join them. Cynthia was not going to be pleased that they were rearranging the feng shui of her lawn, but the possibility of her wrath didn't faze Marshall who dropped another table down, or Robert who had their plates balanced on a pair of chairs. Lucy and Daniel joined them mere moments later toting their own seating, resulting in a strange conglomerate of rounded tables, edges not quite flush, rather reminisce of a four-leafed clover.
"Hope your mother won't mind everyone grunking up her… harmony or whatever," Marceline said lowly to Bonnie. She seemed amused by it all. "How will she take that do you think?"
"She'll live," Bonnie replied. "We do it every year."
"Ooh, Elle," Lucy buzzed, "feeling a little rebellious are we? You normally get this little frown," and she rubbed her temple between her brows to show what she meant, "just there. Like you're upset or something."
"Bonnie's been very rebellious lately," Marshall snickered. Robert and Bonnibel both glared pure venom at him. Marceline kicked him under the table. He didn't seem to care, just turned his knowing smirk at his plate instead.
"Really?" There was a predatory glint in Lucy's eyes now, a raptor soaring low over the plains, talons outstretched, well aware that the hare had nowhere to hide. Belying her expression, her voice might have been pure honey as she crooned, "And what, pray tell, is it you've done lately that's so recalcitrant, Bonnibel dear?"
Beneath the table, Marceline's hand closed about her wrist, Bonnie could feel those brown eyes on her as she silently panicked. What the cake did she say to that? Answers flooded her mind, lightning flashing in the quiet dark and vanishing before it even registered on the retinas. Bonnie couldn't separate any of her thoughts, couldn't make sense of them, couldn't formulate a response.
She slumped into her chair, awash with relief when Marceline saved her, "She quit one of her jobs. The one at the school? Decided teaching wasn't her thing, gave it up."
Bonnie scrunched her eyes shut, heart rate slowing and sending a silent thanks to Marceline. She twisted her hand over in her lap, threading her fingers through Marceline's and giving them a squeeze, hoping that she understood. It had better be good enough for Lucy, though.
Anxiously, she opened one eye and peered wonderingly at her blabbermouth of a friend. Lucy's mouth was a gaping hole, eyes matching blue orbs, bright and gobsmacked. "You… quit a job? Bonnibel that is most unlike you. How did it feel?"
She exhaled heavily and shot Marceline a look that she hoped screamed 'thank you, thank you, thank you' because she couldn't say it aloud and it needed to be said. "It was…" she sought for words, returning her attention to Lucy. "Strangely freeing. Of course I replaced it with a new one pretty much straight away. But for the few days I was without it, I had so much spare time. I didn't know what to do with myself."
"So naturally she holed herself up in her room and did research," Marceline tacked on wryly. "It takes something incredible to keep her away from her study." Her eyes sparkled warmly as she glanced at Bonnie and muttered, "Freak," just loud enough to be heard by most of them at the table.
"Speak for yourself," Bonnie muttered back.
Lucy looked set to ask another question, but Marshall threw his chair back and lurched to his feet. He stared over them at the balcony up by the house, eyes wide, a lopsided smile on his face. "Hey," he said slowly, tapping Rob on the shoulder repeatedly. "Hey, look. There's cake."
Rob swatted the hand away but followed Marshall's gaze. Jake too looked up, then groaned. His plate was polished to a shine to do a dishwasher proud; he must have been so very full. All their eyes swivelled around to look.
"Not just one cake," Marceline breathed somewhere between exceedingly happy and incredulous. "There's half a dozen cakes." Her shoulders hunched, pouting, she grumbled, "And I only got to ice one."
"There, there," Bonnie said impishly, patting her friend's leg. "There will be other cakes to ice. Don't worry so much. You can eat it still you know."
"Isn't it a bit early for cake yet?" Rob asked – rhetorically, since he was checking his watch even as the words came out of his mouth. "Holy poundcake, it's six already?" He squinted up at the sky, now mostly dark, barely any stubborn rays of orange sun remained to tickle the horizon. "Oh… well alright then."
Marceline bounded to her feet, drawing Bonnie reluctantly up after her. "Come on then. I want cake. Does your mother put strawberries on her cakes by any chance, Bon?"
"I'm sure there's some here," Bonnie replied, pausing so she could walk with Rain. "She has every other type of food known to man."
Satisfied with that answer, Marceline trotted off towards the kitchen, no doubt to rummage through the fridge in search of the elusive little fruits. The others all hastened for the pavilion, Cynthia was an excellent baker (people assume that's where Robert got his talent from) and her cakes were always well received and gone in five minutes flat. Once they were out of earshot, Rain slowed and asked lowly, "Elle, are you ok?"
She let out a great whooshing breath and with it came a fragile, "Yes." Rain was not convinced by a longshot and her raised eyebrow made sure Bonnie knew it. She sucked in a deep breath to replace the one she'd just lost and eyed Rain sideways. "I'm fine, Rain," she said in a stronger, if still slightly unsteady, tone. "Just… uh…" She blinked slowly against the Christmas lights. Something large was playing her internal organs like a string instrument, a guitar, she supposed would be better. Specific was always better and apparently pianos are string instruments too. Who knew?
"You look worried," Rain prompted. She meant well, she wanted to make sure Bonnie was in the best health she could be, that's what best friends are for. And Bonnie hated lying to her. Hated it.
"I promise I'm fine," she lied. And with it came a forced smile, no doubt perfectly transparent to her observant friend, but she did it anyway. Smiled and prayed. "Honest."
Rain huffed but didn't push the matter further. Just as well too, as they stepped into the cupola. It wasn't packed, fewer than usual had turned up to the party and none of her family had come to town early this year. But despite that, there was still a crowd. Many of them were friends of her parents, colleagues, associates, a mixed bunch. Bonnie didn't like talking to them; they made her uncomfortable, all of them expecting things from her she didn't want to give. Couldn't give in some cases. It made for a lot of awkward conversations.
No presents were ever handed out at these things, and hadn't been since Bonnie and Rob had turned eighteen. But that was okay because everyone got a free feed, which is better in some ways. Robert had slipped through the crowd to help Cynthia slice the cakes and make sure there was enough for all the guests.
As always, it took mere minutes for everyone to have claimed a piece – or two for Jake, no doubt to take one home to Finn. Bonnie hoped he was alright, college Christmas parties were worrying. But no, he was responsible… most of the time.
Marceline shuffled up, beaming triumphant with a small bowl of chopped strawberries in one hand not long later. "Would you like some?" she asked as they collected their cake. Considering her acute fondness for the fruit, offering to share was really something, but Bonnie politely declined. "Hey," she said, bumping her shoulder against Bonnie's. "You alright, dorkasaurus?"
"Yes, Marceline," she told her slice of Pavlova. "I'm fine, just a little anxious, I guess."
Marceline's lips curled down slightly in a concerned frown. She stabbed her spoon into the cake so it stood without aid and touched Bonnie's elbow gently. "We don't have to say anything, you know."
"I have to tell them."
"We, Bon," she said smiling. "We have to tell them. There's two of us here, yeah?"
Her smile flared slightly, but she didn't look up and the words might not have been as encouraging as Marceline wanted them to seem. Bonnie slumped into a bench under the eaves, looking out over the yard. It seemed that despite all her mother's preparations most of the furniture had been rearranged. Taking her silence as indication that Bonnie was rather glum, Marceline slid onto the bench beside her, probably too close to pass off as 'just friends' but Bonnie didn't really have it in her to care overly much.
"Hey," Marceline said softly, placing one hand on Bonnie's leg. "Look at me, Bonnie B. Please?" Obligingly, but reluctantly, somewhat anxious about… about everything, Bonnie did look up. She couldn't maintain eye contact for long though and ended up staring over Marceline's shoulder. "Take a deep breath and relax for me, okay?" Suiting her words, Marceline sucked in a lungful of unnecessary air and exhaled.
Bonnie did so, shuddering, and finally brought her eyes across to look at her friend. Marceline's eyebrows fell from up around her hairline, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she smiled. "Was that supposed to help me, then?" Bonnie asked her flatly, still feeling a little… swirly on the inside.
With a Cheshire grin and a laugh, Marceline told her, "Well no, it never really helps." She glanced over her shoulder sheepishly and narrowed the gap between them even more before muttering, "And really, the only thing I can think to do so you'll relax isn't really a good idea. So I won't even suggest it." Bonnie glared at her. "How about you just pretend you're telling them something benign? And then we'll split before they've even realised what you said."
"That sounds like an excellent idea."
"What's a good idea?" Lucy collapsed onto the bench on Bonnie's other side. Her all seeing eyes picked up first the fact that Marceline was sitting quite close, then the hand on Bonnie's knee and then she looked up at Marceline's face and grinned. Bonnibel could practically feel her heart stopping.
"Going home," Marceline said smoothly, drawing away slightly under the pretence of putting her now empty plate on the table behind her. "It'll be late when we get home and I have to see my dad in the morning. Lord knows I'll have to be there before his meetings too or he'll have a heart attack."
Lucy's head tilted to one side as she regarded Marceline, weighing her words, testing their sincerity. She nodded though, apparently satisfied with that response. "Family is important. Does your dad work on Christmas too? That's unusual."
"He runs the company. He's never not working," Marceline grouched. "So it's hard to organise holidays with the man. Marshall and I work our calendars around his timetable." She shrugged. "It's been that way my whole life, hard to feel bitter about it."
"Sounds pretty rubbish," Lucy commiserated. "But I can relate. My parents work a lot too. I-"
"Bonnibel, help me with this would you." Cynthia cut across Lucy's words causing all three of them to turn. Her mother was packing up some of the dishes, many piled atop each other in a manner that didn't seem at all stable. Cutlery clinked and rattled as the stack moved.
With a sigh, Bonnie stood, collecting Marceline's and Lucy's plates as she wandered over to Cynthia. Her mother smiled at her briefly before she disappeared behind a pile of dishes and stumbled off towards the kitchen. In a supremely tactful moment of enlightenment, Marceline excused herself from Lucy's faux-interrogation in order to help first Cynthia, and then Bonnie up the stairs and into the kitchen. It was nice to have a guiding hand; she couldn't see where she was putting her feet past the mound of glass in her arms.
"Are you going to wash now, mum?" Bonnie asked, depositing her load onto the bench.
"Hmm, yes why not? Get it out of the way." Cynthia filled the sink with scalding water and arranged the dishes beside her elbow in her fussy way. Order, with Cynthia there was order for everything. Including the order she washed dishes in.
Bonnie snagged a cloth from the rack on the oven and handed it to Marceline. "You dry, I'll put them away," she murmured. Marceline only grinned at her.
"You don't have to help, girls," Cynthia said, swishing a cup through the now bubbling water. "I'll get Alex to assist me in a minute."
"Nah," Marceline said, snatching a cup from the rack. "It's all good, Mrs B. I don't mind."
From under her brow, Cynthia shot Marceline a curious glance, but all she got in return was the exact same smile Marceline always wore. For several long, anxious minutes, they worked in silence; Bonnie couldn't help but fidget when her hands had nothing to do. Marceline flashed her the best reassuring grin she could muster, but it didn't really help.
Snap out of it, she berated herself, angrily dropping cutlery into drawers. This is not you, Bonnibel, honestly. This is not a big deal; it's not a crazy thing, just… just… Ugh. Stop being such a wimp.
And she continued to rant at herself, hoping her nerves would be chased off and banished by anger or frustration or… well any other emotion would be fine. Just not anxiety. That was a terrible thing and made confident announcements that much harder to pull off. She would not be pathetic. She would not.
"Bonnibel, dear," her mother exhaled into the water, "why are you so twitchy? Is something the matter?" Of course Cynthia would notice, she was easily as observant as Lucy and ten times better at making cognitive leaps.
"Apparently she's a rebel," speaking of Lucy, she chirped that as she placed another stack of plates by the sink, beaming all the while. "Marshall said she's been a little… defiant lately." She waved a hand absently, crossing to the other bench and leaning across it, her glittering eyes fixed on Bonnie with intent to suck out every secret she ever had. "And while Marceline says it's because she got a new job, I personally think it's something else." She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking. Then, "Perhaps something really out there… Maybe she's seeing someone. Maybe she got drunk." Her eyes widened, something verging on malicious sparked in their ultramarine depths as a thought occurred to her. A thought she promptly whispered hoarsely to the room, "Maybe it's all three. Goes out, gets a little tipsy, meets a guy, takes him home… Maybe she's pregnant."
Marceline positively howled laughter at that. "Wow, Lucy," she wheezed between fits of cackles. "You have an excellent sense of humour. I'll give you that one." She had to set a dish down, fearful of dropping it, and Bonnie's heart was in her throat, not for the potentially shattered dish, but for whatever was said next. "Bonnie? Get drunk? You have got to be kidding. She doesn't even drink soft drink, let alone alcohol. Please."
Bonnie frowned at her, but got nothing save another bout of chortles, softer this time, under control. "Thank you, Marceline," she replied dryly.
"Oh calm yourself, Bon. You know I'm right." Marceline's smile broadened then, as she said, "And we both know there is no way you're pregnant. That's preposterous. The only guy you've ever brought over is Rob… And Jake that one time, but he was with Rain so it doesn't count."
Lucy lifted an eyebrow at Marceline. "How can you possibly know none of what I said is true? It's possible right?"
Marceline crossed the space to Lucy and patted her arm. "I'm her roommate, Lucy," she explained as if to a three year old. "I think I would know if she was bringing boys over." Lucy opened her mouth to object again, but Marceline spoke over the top of her. "Alright, alright. Okay, so technically it could be possible. And I know I'm no maths genius, but it doesn't take a brainlord to realise that there really aren't enough hours in the day." She lifted a hand and started ticking off fingers as she worked through all the reasons Lucy was wrong without actually telling her the truth. "She works what…? Four jobs? Library, two research positions and at the Candy Kingdom, you with me so far? That's a lot of hours right there. Then there's her 'must have lunch with Rain at least once a week' deal, the time she spends reading… whatever it is she reads, visits with her brother – who, I might add, lives nearly an hour away, so that's a big chunk right there. Plus there's movie night, and her general geek out sessions because she's so smart and has to keep all her random knowledge polished right up and also sleeping. Trust me, in between all that stuff, and the time I'm actually with her, Bonnie doesn't have much wriggle room to be dating a guy and getting knocked up. No way. If, by some freak accident, I turn out to be wrong, then she has some time-turner doodad like the one Hermione had in Harry Potter. Cool?"
As Marceline's elucidation went on, Lucy's mouth had gotten progressively closer to perfectly imitating a flytrap. When she stopped speaking Lucy's teeth clicked closed and she stared, first at Bonnie, then at Marceline, and then back. "Wow, you're really busy… Like, all the time," she breathed. "How… do you even have time to be here?"
Bonnie shrugged. "I've had it factored into my calendar for months. I knew when it was, so I'm not losing anything by being here. Simple really."
Lucy's mouth twisted into a wry pout. She rolled her eyes and muttered, "So… No guy?"
Bonnie shook her head. "Definitely no guys, Lucy." Marceline grinned when she said it.
"Ugh, you're so boring," Lucy declared, slouching out of the kitchen.
Cynthia, who had been quiet for all of that, now spoke softly, still gazing at the suds in the sink as if they were the most important things in the world, "You know I worry about you, Bonnibel. There are plenty of young men here, sons of the men your father works with, all very bright, very promising boys. Have you spoken to any of them tonight?"
Marceline twirled her drying cloth through the air in spirals, a little knowing smile on her face. It didn't help Bonnie at all, that expression, not really. "No, mum, I haven't spoken to any of them. And," she said a little more forcefully as Cynthia opened her mouth again, "I don't intend to. Please don't press this."
The door slid open and then closed again. There was not a sound in the kitchen save for the soft scuffling of shoes across the tiles. "Cynthia, the McDermotts are going," Alex said absently, eyes peering at a piece of paper. "They won't be here for New Years'. Tom said that-" His voice cut off as he looked up and noticed the scene in the kitchen. "Uh… what did I miss?"
Now, Cynthia spun away from the sink, hands covered in bubbles and she fixed her husband with an irate grimace. Bonnie noted idly that it was somewhat of a bizarre combination on her mother's fine features. Her mouth worked a minute, clearly grappling with two things: her desire to say something and her desire to be tactful about it. Pushy Cynthia might be, but she wasn't the kind of person to carelessly insult, especially if the subject of the possible insult stood right in front of her. Eventually she spluttered, "Bonnie won't see guys. She said she won't even talk to them, doesn't want to date." It fell out like a rush of air after getting punched in the stomach, as if it were doing actual harm to her person that her daughter didn't want to talk to the pompous douches outside.
Alex rolled his lips under, "Hmm," he said. Very eloquent man, her father. "Well that's her decision, Cynthia," he added at length. "If Elle doesn't want to date, we can't make her." His eyes clipped in her direction, he seemed torn between agreeing with his unhappy wife and being accepting of Bonnie's choice. He was the only reason Cynthia hadn't forced Bonnie to business school and had supported her decision to pursue science.
Bonnie took a deep breath and sighed, "I have to be honest with you both."
All three sets of eyes in the room swivelled her way. Cynthia still looked borderline furious, Marceline seemed stunned… or maybe just worried and her father merely came across curious. So… her mother would try to throttle her, that was predictable, but maybe it wouldn't be a complete disaster. Right?
"What is it, dear?" Alex asked, sinking slowly onto a cushioned stool on the other side of the bench. "You do know you can tell us anything." He waved a hand in a semi-circle about himself. "Safe space," he said, the corners of his eyes pinching in a smile.
Carefully, trying not to be too obvious about it, Bonnie stepped closer to the door and, by happenstance, closer to Marceline as well. Best to have a swift escape planned, just in case. "I… I'm seeing someone," she whispered hoarsely.
Alex blinked, then smiled more widely. Cynthia's shoulders slumped in purest confusion, behind her eyes, Bonnie could practically see the cogs turning as she thought that over. Then both her parents spoke at once.
Her father: "Well that's good, dear. I hope he makes you happy, yes?"
Her mother: "But you told Lucy there were no guys. Definitely, I believe you said. Excuse me for being confused."
Alex looked at his wife and frowned at her words. "Now I'm confused," he said softly.
"Were you lying to Lucy or to us?" Cynthia asked, eyebrows sinking down low over her eyes.
Bonnie could feel Marceline's eyes on her, could feel her trying to give Bonnie confidence and encouragement and all that other rubbish that wasn't going to help her even a little bit. She had to draw another deep, trembling breath before she said, "No, I told the truth both times." Her heart felt all weird, like it was both made of lead, dragging at her chest, trying to sink her in a bottomless black abyss and hyperactive, pounding fast, lodged in her throat. It was an unusual sensation to say the least. "There's no guy. I… I'm…" She sucked in another breath and forced herself to steady. "I'm seeing Marceline."
Silence.
Never before had Bonnibel ever experienced such complete and utter silence. It was as if someone had stuffed her ears with soundproof wool. She couldn't even hear the people out in the yard. This was one of those moments where people say they could hear a pin drop. Not only would she have heard it hit the floor, she would have heard every bounce, every little stir it caused in the air would have been thunder.
Alex broke the stifling quiet by sighing.
"You what?" Cynthia asked very, very softly. Bonnie had expected her to explode. This was worse.
Still, now that the hardest part was done with, the rest should be nice and easy. Isn't that how it goes? "I'm dating Marceline," she reiterated even though it was obvious her mother had heard perfectly what she'd said.
There was a flush around Cynthia's ears now, something between anger and horror perhaps. Her jaw clenched and unclenched, clenched and unclenched, eyes boring into her as if hoping to find written somewhere on her soul that she was joking. Cynthia blinked, spun on her heel and clacked from the kitchen deeper into the house. Over her shoulder she spared a frosted, "Don't tell a soul, Bonnibel."
Bonnie's knees felt like jelly, all wobbly and semi-liquid, she had to put concerted effort into staying upright. "Dad…" she probed gently. He turned his gaze up to her, face carefully neutral.
He swallowed and asked gruffly, "How long have you been together?"
It took yet more effort to keep from glancing over at Marceline. "Nearly three months, give or take a few days," Bonnie replied, equally solemn.
He thought about that for a moment and his eyes widened almost imperceptibly, no doubt realising that meant they were together the last time Marceline had visited. A ghost of a smile pulled at his lips, Bonnie did a double-take, completely convinced that she'd been imagining it. "Give her some time, Bonnibel," he muttered. "I must admit, I'm… stunned. It will take time to process and," his cast his eyes to Marceline, "I doubt she'll ever like you, Marceline. No matter that you made quite a good impression to begin with, she won't forgive this. But – and don't ever tell your mother I said this – I maintain as long as you're happy, it's fine."
This time, Bonnie was absolutely sure she'd imagined it. "Um… really? Dad, I'm gay. You're… alright with that?"
That phantom smile flickered, faded. "Well… yes and no. I can live with this, Bonnibel. I'm not against it; I do have gay friends you know. But…" he sighed.
"Don't," Bonnie interjected before he could finish that thought. "I changed my mind, I don't want to know. I knew there would be a 'but'; I actually expected it would be the dominant sentiment to be honest. Just… I don't know; try to be happy with this. For me?"
Alex bobbed his head. "I can do that, perhaps I'll even convince Cynthia to accept it as well." He snorted. "Actually, I doubt that will happen. You were incredibly brave… or stupid, Marceline, to be here when Bonnibel told us. Especially considering that Cynthia had all sorts of kitchen utensils at her disposal as weapons." He frowned at Marceline now. It was a weighted look, positively loaded with threats her gentle father would never speak. A very 'if you hurt her I'll put you down' look. "You'd best go now," he said. "There are no guarantees that next time she won't throw a frying pan at your head." They didn't hesitate, just turned and headed for the door. "And Bonnibel?" She froze. "Please don't tell anyone until your mother has cooled down."
They basically fell down the stairs and Bonnie leaned against the side of the house, eyes closed, breathing a sigh of relief. Thank god that's over with, she mused. It hadn't quite been an endorsement, but it had most certainly not been condemnation either.
Marceline collapsed beside her, smiling. "That wasn't so bad," she chuckled. "Could've been worse." She turned her head to peer worriedly at Bonnie. "That was my excitement for the day. What do you think?"
"Mmn," she replied absently. "We should go. I'll just say goodnight to Rain." Marceline murmured assent as Bonnie straightened and crossed the lawn to Rain and Jake. The latter having an animated conversation with Daniel and the former trying to appear engrossed in whatever mostly fictional story Lucy was weaving.
Rain took Bonnie's arrival as reason to stop listening completely. Her smile turned down at the corners slightly when she saw Bonnie's face though. "Hey, Elle, what's wrong?" she asked. Which of course garnered Lucy's attention as well.
She shook her head. "We're going now. I'd also avoid my mum for the rest of the evening. She's in a rotten mood, I'm sorry."
Jake looked confused for a moment before realisation dawned on him and his jaw dropped open. He knew the exact level of stupid it would take to tell Cynthia something she didn't want to hear. Rain got to the correct conclusion first though and jerked to her feet, pulling Bonnie into a hug.
"Did you tell them?" she asked quietly. Bonnie only nodded. "How'd they take it?"
"As expected really. Mum… isn't happy," Bonnie replied lowly. "At all. But dad was surprisingly tolerant of the whole thing."
Rain pulled away, her grip on Bonnie's shoulders though tightened, if anything. "You sure you'll be okay?"
Bonnie did her best to smile and sound honest when she said, "Of course. They just have to deal with it, right?" Rain's sad smile spoke volumes, and every last one of them told of how Cynthia didn't just have to live with it. But the words remained unsaid, thank goodness.
"What's this?" Lucy piped up. "What did you tell your parents that's got Cynthia in a foul mood and you looking like someone died?"
"Nothing, Lucy," Rain said, mercifully. "Just… uh…" She rolled her eyes. "It's nothing. You know how Cynthia gets when cutlery goes missing. Now she'll have to buy a whole new set."
"A whole new kitchen is more like," Jake added. Bonnie wanted to thank them both so much. So very much. While it was a pretty pathetic excuse, it had happened before and was therefore founded in solid truth.
Bonnie mouthed thanks at both of them before saying goodnight again and scurrying off. She waved to Rob and Marshall sitting under a tree with their heads together. Her brother seemed worried, but she offered a smile and disappeared out to her car before he could even stand. She didn't want him to make a big deal out of it. It was done and over with now and all she felt was relieved, anxiety gone.
Marceline was leaning against the side of her car staring up at the sky when she approached. The lock beeped causing her friend to look down. A soft smile cracked across her face, but she didn't speak. She didn't even open her mouth. Marceline didn't say a word the whole way home, not even to complain when they didn't stop for ice-cream. She sat in the passenger seat in total silence. Even the radio was turned down low. It was if the world had been muted, aware of how fragile she felt on the inside and didn't want to make too much noise in case it was enough to shatter her.
Once the door to their apartment was locked behind them though, the silence was ruined. "Hey, Bon," Marceline murmured. She stood on the other side of the couch in the lounge room, for once not trying to invade personal space. "You going straight to bed? I'm gonna watch a movie, but I'll keep it down low for you."
Bonnibel's heart ached. Marceline hadn't asked if she was okay, she'd acted like nothing had happened at all, as if everything was exactly the same. Bonnie stopped cold in her tracks, eyes pricking with tears she really didn't want to shed because she didn't know why they were even there. It didn't make sense.
She turned away from the arch to the hall and stepped around the sofa to stare at Marceline in bewilderment. The other woman blinked, exuding an air of nonchalance. It wasn't uncaring or taciturn, it was just… just normal.
Bonnie threw her arms around Marceline's neck and buried her face in her collar. She refused to cry. She wouldn't do it. She wouldn't. And she didn't. But her knees did finally give out on her, jelly giving way at last, turning to water. Marceline caught her and the next thing she knew Bonnie was on the sofa, sitting on Marceline's lap, eyes scrunched closed because everything was too much.
"If it's a happy movie," she eventually mumbled into Marceline's neck, "I think I'll stay right here. Is that alright with you?"
Marceline's arms around her tightened and she whispered, "More than alright." Of course, Marceline had to disengage Bonnie's break-neck hold to put the disc in, but she didn't seem to mind when Bonnie resumed her seat after that. "Are you going to fall asleep in this movie, Bon?"
"No doubt."
Marceline chuckled. "You let me know when you get tired then."
As the movie played, Bonnie felt herself relax. She'd told her parents. Sure, it had been nerve-wracking and generally terrifying. But it was over. Done. They knew and that was that. They'd reacted now and she could cope with whatever happened next, she was positive of that. And as the tension gradually ebbed (Marceline's fingers fiddling with her hair didn't hurt that process either) she felt sleep closing in.
She yawned.
Then blinked as Marceline paused the movie. She leaned back to peer at her friend. There was an intensity to her eyes now that Bonnie had only seen once… maybe twice before. Definitely twice. The fingers in her hair stilled, but Marceline looked like she wanted to fidget nonetheless.
Bonnie placed a hand on one cool cheek and queried, "Are you alright?"
Marceline sighed, nodded and looked away. "You said once that I express myself better in song than regular conversation, do you remember?" Bonnie nodded and Marceline must have seen because she went on, "Alright then. This is me doing just that." She closed her eyes, leaning her face into Bonnie's palm and sighed. Not in exasperation, more like… contentment.
"You took the time to memorise me,
My fears, my hopes and dreams
I just like hanging out with you,
All the time.
And all those times that you didn't leave
It's been occurring to me
I'd like to hang out with you
For my whole life.
Stay.
Cause I'll be loving you for quite some time…"
Her voice cracked and trailed away to nothing, but she kept staring at Bonnie, eyes never wavering. For her part, Bonnie just sat there, dumbfounded. Her heart clenched painfully and something down near her diaphragm fluttered madly, her fingers winding distractedly in Marceline's dress. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Which was probably a good thing, because she didn't know what she wanted to say anyway.
"Please say something," Marceline whispered.
So she did, "Y… you…" Again the words got stuck; Bonnie tried to work some moisture into her mouth and tried again, "You love me?"
A purple tint spread across Marceline's face, even her ears (pointed now, her spell having worn off) had taken on the colour of a plum. She cleared her throat. "Yeah… Uh…" Her fingers tapped against Bonnie's hip, probably from nerves. "No biggie right? Just… uh…"
Bonnie saved her from having to find any form of eloquence by kissing her. Marceline seemed startled at first, then she stopped being stunned and took up simply being happy. Bonnie felt her smile, fingers no longer tapping; they were quivering a little bit though as they grabbed fistfuls of Bonnie's skirt. Trailing whispering kisses along her jaw to her ear, Bonnie muttered only a little breathily, "I love you too, dopey."
Marceline exhaled a trembling breath, her arms constricting. "Really?" The word was so quiet it was almost lost.
"Really," Bonnie affirmed, knotting her fingers into Marceline's hair. "Promise."
Marceline pressed her nose to Bonnie's neck. "I always forget to tell you," she muttered. "I love you. I've loved you from the very first day." She ran a hand through Bonnie's hair. "Go to sleep."
Bonnie smiled, for once, sleeping wouldn't be hard. She pressed her lips to Marceline's cheek before allowing her head to settle on her shoulder. "Merry Christmas," she yawned.
As sleep folded about her (incredible given how fast her heart was pounding still), she heard Marceline laugh and return with, "Merry Christmas, Bonnibel."
Today's song is by the ever wonderful Taylor Swift who I went to see in concert the other week (for the second time) and she never fails to put on an excellent show. It's called Stay, Stay, Stay. Oh yes, and there's a line Marceline says there somewhere too that's from the song Superman, also by Taylor Swift.