Bonnie wasn't one for avoiding commitments. That being said, she also wasn't one for interacting with her parents. Wasn't one for lying, either. All three of these things, especially when combined, tended to land her in a lot of trouble. So she sat, staring at her Facebook messages, thoughts racing through her mind.

Her mother wanted to meet Marceline. She wanted to do so over dinner- very formal.

Bonnie had faith in Marceline- that wasn't the problem. Marceline was a good person; their relationship was developing a solid foundation. She had confidence in her and in their relationship. However, the fact of the matter was that none of that mattered. What mattered was that her mother wouldn't be satisfied, regardless of circumstances. Marceline could act and dress perfectly. She could never slip up in conversation, and Bonnie's mother would still find ways to poke holes into her character.

She didn't want to like Marceline, really. She was just some girl distracting Bonnie from university and the possibility of future grandchildren.

But she couldn't avoid it, either. That wasn't who she was.

She sighed again.

"What's up, Bons?"

Marceline was lying in her own bed, typing away on her computer. She was in full homework mode as the end of semester approached and panic set in. She reasoned that if they were in the same bed they would both get too distracted.

"Mm, nothing," Bonnie said wistfully.

"You just sighed like, four times."

"Did I?"

"Uh, yeah, so tell me what's up."

Bonnie groaned, "My mom wants to meet you over dinner on Saturday."

Marceline frowned, "What can I expect?"

"Nothing good- do you happen to work?"

Marceline cracked her knuckles, "I have a final on Monday- have the weekend off."

"Do you want to pretend to work?"

Marceline chuckled and transferred herself over to Bonnie's bed, "Don't think so. Might as well get our first encounter over with. Who knows, maybe I'll charm the rents, eh?"

Bonnie looked her over, "Sorry, it would appear you aren't any of the conventionally attractive white celebrities named Chris that the world has to offer, so probably not."

Marceline raised an eyebrow, "Your mom wants you to date Chris Pratt?"

"Any Chris."

"Will Christine do?"

"'Fraid not."

Marceline's eyes softened with concern, "No humor in the situation, eh?"

Bonnie leaned over to press her forehead against Marceline's shoulder. It wasn't exactly a comfortable position, but it made her feel safe in a way. She shrugged, "I just don't see it going well."

Marceline rubbed her shoulder reassuringly, "It might not go well, but I'll be damned if we can't make the best of it."

Bonnie managed a smile, "What are you thinking?"

"Full-on food fight. Your mom makes one wrong move and I've got spaghetti in both hands, going buck-wild."

Bonnie laughed. It was genuine.

"It won't be too bad, Bons. We can do this."

"We can do this," Bonnie agreed.


Bonnie and Marceline elected to relax in the hours leading up to meeting Bonnie's parents. They sat at Keila's apartment; Marceline lounged on a chair, and Bonnie sat in her lap, asking occasionally if she was hurting her.

Ellen wasn't present at the meeting- she was off with some boy, by Keila's account, and much to her disappointment, Bonnie gathered. Bonnie had never particularly loved hanging out with the rambunctious blonde, but right now she found herself anxious with the long silences that would normally be filled with her rambling.

Keila was hunched forward, eyes glued to her small TV screen. She was playing a first person shooter on her Xbox that Bonnie didn't recognize, but she seemed rather immersed in it. The colour pallet didn't appeal to her much- a lot of greens and browns made the entire game feel like it took place in a sewer, and maybe it did. She wasn't really sure what was going on in it.

Marceline meanwhile, was absently tapping away at her 3DS; pokemon, she assumed. She didn't tend to play much else on the regular. She had a few games on her laptop, but she always came back to the little pixel monsters. Bonnie had nothing. She was far too stressed to focus on a game, but the other two weren't offering much in the way of stimulation.

And so she worried. She worried for a long, long time.

Marceline leaned over and kissed her cheek a few times, asked if she needed anything, if she was alright. She answered that she didn't, and she was.

Marceline didn't believe her, obviously. No one in their right mind would. Bonnie knew that, but she was glad that it wasn't pressed further. She had to deal with this, at least in part, on her own. Marceline could help, perhaps, but family was, well, family was difficult, but personal. She had to get herself part of the way there, whatever "there" meant.

Eventually Keila dropped onto the floor next to their chair, folding her arms onto the edge where Marceline's feet lay and resting her chin on them. She stared up at Bonnie, her eyes wide and curious, "What cha' thinking about?" she sing-songed.

Bonnie smiled weakly, "Y'know, just thinking."

Keila leaned closer, "'Bout?"

"Parents."

"Oof. Rough," Keila said, sitting back, "they uh," she waved her hand, "y'know," she paused, "parents?"

Marceline barked a laugh, "Fuck dude, they sure are."

Keila rolled her eyes, "Fine, fine, ms 'my family totally loves me', most of us gays have a bad relationship with at least one of our parents, aight? You know my dad's a jackass."

Marceline squeezed Bonnie around the waist, "I know. Sorry, guys."

Bonnie leaned into the crook of her neck, "It's cool. I love your family, but, uh, yeah, my parents are, to put it as kindly as possible, total dicks."

Keila and Marceline both laughed at that one. Marceline snorted, "Uh, yeah, from what I gathered, that is actually putting it lightly. And Keila, you won't believe it, I get to meet them! Lucky ol' me!"

Keila whistled, "Oh boy, I bet y'all can't wait."

Bonnie sighed, a tad deliberately. She didn't enjoy her anxieties being mocked, even if it was in a lighthearted way around friends. She knew they didn't mean anything by it- in fact, they likely wanted to help. Regardless, their faces both became serious.

"You can do this, Bonnie," Keila whispered.

Bonnie smiled, but it felt empty. This was the second time she'd been told that, ad yet it felt meaningless. What could she do? Survive? Was that enough?

She sighed, "I know."


It was time. Dinner. The empty words echoed in her head.

You can do it. You can do it. You can do it.

It meant nothing. Anxiety rolled in her stomach, suffocating her.

Marceline squeezed her hand.

It didn't help. Nothing helped.

It was perhaps worse, being away so long. When she was there, at what she had called home, it was just a daily event. She knew how to deal with it. Now, she wasn't sure what to expect. Had they changed? Probably not, but perhaps they had changed their approach. Maybe they would seem kinder, act nice for the sake of saving face.

She didn't know what to expect, and she didn't like that at all.

She wasn't in control. She didn't know what was going to happen. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't let anyone know.

She squeezed Marceline's hand, and her girlfriend squeezed back.

They got there first. Her parents didn't usually come late. That make her anxious, too. Marceline squeezed her thigh reassuringly. That did help, at least a little.

They came about five minutes late, face unreadable, dressed in semi-formal attire. They sat across from them.

"Hello, Marceline, is it?" her mother droned.

Marceline forced a smile, "Yes ma'am," she held her hand across the table. It was ignored. Awkward. Marceline brushed it off, placing her hand on the table, her expression ambiguous.

Her father cleared his throat, "So, what's your real name?"

Before Bonnie could say anything, Marceline replied firmly, "Marceline."

"Right."

Silence.

The waitress wandered over, "Hello, I'm Melissa and I'll be your serve this evening. Our soup of the day is a New England clam chowder. Can I get you folks any drinks or appetizers to start?"

Bonnie's mother handed over her menu, "We're ready to order."

Bonnie flinched. She hadn't even looked at the menu. Too anxious. She flipped through it rapidly, looking for something that sounded appealing. Didn't really matter what, as long as she could eat it. None of it would taste like much anyway- panic masked flavor.

"I'll get the quinoa salad," her mother said stiffly, "water's fine for everyone."

"I'll get the sirloin, please. Well-done," her father said next.

"Alright, house salad or mash with that?"

"Salad."

Melissa shifted awkwardly, obviously unnerved by their short tone and even expression, "Great, it's quite good- poppy seed dressing, er-"

"That's fine."

"Right, um, and you girls?" she turned to Bonnie and Marceline.

"Veggie burger and salad please," Marceline said kindly, offering the first smile the poor waitress had been given from the group. Bonnie saw her posture relax visibly.

"And I'll get the chicken ceasar wrap with fries, please," Bonnie said, her voice barely above a whisper as she handed over her menu. The waitress smiled sympathetically her way, seeming to understand at least part of the situation.

"I'll get your water right away," Melissa said kindly before fast-walking towards the kitchen, obviously eager to be away from the negative vibes no doubt given off by their table. Bonnie couldn't blame her.

"Fries?" her mother said when she was out of earshot, "is that how you eat these days?"

"Yes."

"You do seem a bit chubbier."

"Sure."

Her mother furrowed her brow, "Well, there's not need to be so sensitive, I'm trying to help."

Bonnie clenched her jaw, anger swelling in her chest, "I know."

Her mother sat up, staring at Marceline, "So, have you had the surgery?"

Marceline sank back a bit, "Er, sorry, I, uh, don't think that's any of your business, really," her hand trembled in Bonnie's.

Bonnie squeezed it tightly, "Mom, stop."

"Just asking a regular question. Are you kids all this sensitive."

Bonnie's voice raised a little, "Yep, I'm afraid kids these days are all really into their privacy being respected, sorry to disappoint."

"Don't talk back to your mother," her dad said. There was no emotion in his voice. There almost never was. He just said what her mother wanted to hear. That's how he'd always been.

Bonnie began to tap on the table impatiently.

It was over before the food came, "So, without the surgery, does it count as being homosexual? You're still male, are you not?"

Bonnie stood up. Her anger boiled. She kept her voice down, mostly.

"Mother. I mean this as kindly as I possibly could. Shut up."

Her mother raised her eyebrow, "Calm down, Bonnibel. You're going to cause a scene."

"No. Fuck-"

"No need to cuss."

"Fuck," she repeated pointedly, "I am tired of you being invasive and demanding and domineering. I don't deserve this. I deserve better than these invasive-ass questions and," she struggled to find a word to describe her feelings, "bullshit," she spat. She clenched her firsts on the table. Marceline placed a hand on the nearest one, but didn't try to stop her.

Her mother was growing angry- really, truly, angry. The composure she usually had was lost, "I raised you," she practically growled.

"Yeah, and look how that turned out. I'm a mess. You fucked up," she breathed deeply, turned to Marceline, "let's go."

Marceline simply nodded and shifted out of the booth, Bonnie close behind.

"I don't want to hear from you unless it's an apology."

Her father.

"Same to you," she said, her voice barely audible. And then she left, Marceline's hand in hers.

The walk home was mostly silent. Bonnie was numb to the chill in the air. A million thoughts buzzed through her mind. Had she done the right thing? Was she an idiot? Sure, she didn't rely on her parents financially- they wouldn't give her anything if she did need it, but still. She felt like she was making her life worse in the long run, somehow.

The first words were uttered once they were back in their dorm.

"I love you, Bon," Marceline whispered.

Tears began to roll down Bonnie's face, her throat tightening, "I love you. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

Bonnie croaked, "No."

"That's okay too."

Bonnie leaned her head onto Marceline's shoulder and cried. She cried for entirely too long, until her head throbbed, and she persisted even then.

And yet, at the bottom of it all, she felt a certain anxiety lift. She'd done it. She never had to talk to them again. She felt the obligations lift. She'd still have to get in contact with Ned, maybe convince him to avoid them too, for his own sake.

But she was free. She was done. She was happy, in the end.


AN: Two Chapters left? Can you believe it? And after almost two years. Man... hope yall enjoyed this and the final two chapters.