She'd decided to take a leaf out of Marceline's book.

Bonnie had wanted to get out of the house, so she'd decided to walk around to Marceline's and see if she was doing anything. She hadn't texted at all, so she resolved that if Marceline's car wasn't in the driveway when she walked by, she'd go home and maybe text Lady. Or probably video chat with Bubba.

There was only one car in the driveway when she got there, but thankfully, it was Marceline's. Bonnie assumed that was some kind of trend – only one car in the house's driveway – because she'd gathered from everything she'd said that Marceline didn't like being home when her dad was. Maybe that was why she always showed up at Bonnie's unannounced.

She walked up to the front door and knocked curtly. Unlike Marceline, she wasn't going to check if the door was unlocked and walk right on in like she owned the place. She waited for a few moments, but when there wasn't any movement inside, she knocked again, a little louder.

The front door finally swung open, but it wasn't Marceline. Marshall sent her a broad grin, "Hey, Bonnie. You here to see you know who?"

He wiggled his eyebrows, and Bonnie immediately regretted telling him that part of the whole gay thing. Should've just left it at I like girls. "Might be. I'm guessing she's here, since her car is."

"In her room," Marshall gestured towards the stairs, and as Bonnie started taking her shoes off, he laughed, "You don't need to do that when dad's not home."

Bonnie shrugged. "Just politeness."

"No wonder he likes you so much," Marshall commented, and Bonnie felt slightly guilty. She knew it wasn't her fault that Mr Abadeer's parenting methods were less than satisfactory, but she still felt bad about it. She was just grateful that Marceline didn't hold it against her. "And my sister likes you. Damn, they've actually got something in common."

Bonnie didn't laugh, just forced a smile. She had a feeling that Marshall was more than a little oblivious to the way his father's comments bothered Marceline. She changed the subject, "She's not busy, is she? I don't want to bother her."

"Nah, and she wouldn't care if she was since it's you," Marshall shrugged, "do you mind asking her if she'll give me a ride to Guy's place? She'd probably say no if I asked, but if you do it then…"

"I'll ask," Bonnie said, catching on, the butterflies in her tummy fluttering hopefully, "but no promises that she'll say yes."

He grinned at her as she turned and headed up the stairs, "Thanks, Bonnie."

She made her way to Marceline's bedroom and hesitated at the door. If the roles were reversed, Marceline would waltz in without knocking, with a sup, nerd, and flop down on Bonnie's bed, probably making some sarcastic comment about how it was too small. Bonnie knocked quietly and chuckled to herself when Marceline called, "What do you want, ya dingus? I'm busy."

Bonnie opened the door and said, "Dingus? That's a new one."

"Oh," Marceline looked up from the guitar she was clearly restringing, and her face broke out into a dazzling grin. She was in grey sweatpants and a t-shirt, her wild hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she still somehow managed to look perfect. "Bonnie! Hey. Ever heard of calling a person first?"

Bonnie rolled her eyes but adored the playful smile on Marceline's face, "I don't actually have a phone, so…"

"So, I was texting your doppelganger? Got it." Marceline sent her a mock glare and said, "Get out of my house, princess."

Bonnie laughed, "You look like an angry puppy."

"Oh, shut up," Marceline's fake glare melted away to that soft smile, "come sit. Unlike you, I have a normal person sized bed."

Bonnie rolled her eyes again but sat down on Marceline's bed next to her. She looked at the white guitar that was laid out. There were only two strings on it, a tangle of old strings in Marceline's bin, and an opened packet of new strings on the bed next to the guitar. "What're you doing? Oh, and your brother wants a lift to Guy's house."

"Tell him to get the bus. And obviously, I'm riding a horse," Marceline sarcastically responded, "My guitar needed restringing, so… figured I'd get that out of the way. It's a bitch to get it back in tune after, but it needed doing, my bends were sounding super dull."

Bonnie rested her head on Marceline's shoulder and watched as she worked. She looked at the guitar; it was in impeccable condition, and if Marceline told her she'd just bought it, she'd believe her. "How long have you had it for?"

"About a year. Saved up for ages for it," Marceline said as she clipped the end of the string at the guitar's head. "Olympic white American Fender Telecaster with tortoise shell pickguard, single coil pickups and maple fingerboard. I love a good maple fingerboard, Bonnie. In other words, she's one sexy motherfucker."

Bonnie laughed. "Sexy?"

"Jealous, Bon?" Marceline retorted, and Bonnie just blushed in response. "Yeah, she's sexy. I said it."

"I'm not even going to comment on the fact that you just called your guitar she," Bonnie said, "You didn't have any other plans today, did you?"

"Nope," Marceline said, working on the fourth string, "saw Keila yesterday and had a jam session, before you ask, since you seem to think I like her more than you."

"She's your best friend," Bonnie pointed out, "you've known her for years."

Marceline shrugged. "I like you both the same, just… different."

"You realise you just completely contradicted yourself, right?" Bonnie retorted, and Marceline rolled her eyes in response, clipping the excess end off of the fourth string once it was tightened, "The same and different cancel each other out."

"No, but I mean, Keila's basically me, just all hyper all the time," Marceline shrugged, "you're like my complete opposite. Both my favourite people, but in completely different ways."

"Hm," Bonnie mulled that over as she watched Marceline and tried to act like the older girl calling her one of her favourite people hadn't affected her at all, "okay. I suppose that makes sense. So… you're free to spend time with me today?"

"Once I've done this and got it back into tune, we can do whatever you want," Marceline said as she started sorting the sixth and final string, "except studying. That's banned until September."

"Shame, I brought all these mock exams and essay questions with me, don't know what I'm going to do with them now," Bonnie retorted as Marceline finished putting the strings on and switched to tuning. "Can we-"

A hand clamped over her mouth and Bonnie had the strongest temptation to get her revenge on Marceline for the other day.

"One sec," Marceline said, taking her hand away before Bonnie could do anything, "gotta listen to tune."

Bonnie watched as she tuned the instrument by ear. Frankly, she was already impressed with Marceline's musical skill, but just knowing how a guitar was supposed to be tuned perfectly blew Bonnie out of the water. It took her a little while to get it there, and Bonnie had to hide a rather immature laugh when Marceline said, "The G string keeps getting fucked."

"Oh, real mature," Marceline clearly heard her and met her gaze with a grin, "Thought I was the distasteful one here."

Bonnie shushed her, "I didn't laugh, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course not," Marceline strummed all of the open strings and then played a couple of chords, "Think I'm pretty much done."

She played a quick solo and Bonnie just laughed, "Okay, now you're just showing off."

"Showing off?" Marceline scoffed, and then played another, rather obviously for show, fast collection of notes. She even used both hands on the neck. "I'd never show off, Bonnie. Don't know what you mean."

"Sure," Bonnie said with a little sarcastic lilt, but she was fully serious when she added, "you are really good at that, though. When you told me you played that many instruments I didn't think you'd properly mastered all of them."

"You thought I was a four-chord wonder? Damn, Bonnie, I'm hurt," Marceline retorted, "but I don't know if anyone can ever fully master an instrument, you know? There's always gonna be more stuff to learn. That's the fun part."

"That last sentence would've been so out of character if not for the context," Bonnie pointed out, "sounds like something I'd say."

"Then I'm sure my dad will be thrilled you're being a positive influence," Marceline deadpanned, putting the guitar aside in favour of leaning back against the headboard of her bed, "So, what do you want to do? We can go anywhere you want. Just gotta put some jeans on because I draw the line at going out in sweats."

"Actually, why don't we stay here? It's later in the day and I don't think you and I have ever actually hung out here," Bonnie said, and realised that fact was true. She'd been over that one time when they'd been paired together for the first project, and it went very badly. And the other times, she was with her other friends, and both conversations with Marceline had been awkward.

"That's because I try to stay out of the house," Marceline said, "why do you think I show up at your place all the time?"

Bonnie scoffed dramatically. "And here I thought it was because you liked spending time with me."

"You know I do, dork," Marceline flashed her that smile again, "If we're staying, what do you want to do?"

Bonnie tried to think. Despite piano playing having bad memories for her thanks to her parents, Bonnie still liked a challenge. She pointed at the guitar. "Teach me how to play something."

Marceline raised her eyebrows. She looked like she didn't believe her. "Really?"

"Really," Bonnie confirmed, "teach me. Something easy, obviously. I like learning and I like a challenge, so…"

Marceline brightened, and Bonnie smiled. That was the reason she'd asked; Marceline became a lot more animated and brighter when she was talking about music. It made Bonnie's heart smile. "Okay. Maybe not the Tele, though. Steel strings would rip your soft little fingers to shreds. I'll get my mom's old acoustic, it's got nylons. You're not left-handed, are you?"

"Nope," Bonnie asked, "does that matter? Wait, aren't you left-handed?"

Bonnie asked because when they studied together, if Marceline sat on her right side, they tended to elbow one another. Marceline nodded, "Yeah, but I learned to play all my instruments right-handed. There are less options for left-handed players, and my mom's guitar was right-handed, and that's what I learned on. I've tried the one lefty guitar we've got at work, but it felt weird. I could probably do it if I tried hard enough, but eh. I'm lazy."

Bonnie watched as Marceline put the electric guitar back on the empty hanger on the wall. There were six guitars on Marceline's wall; the red bass from prom, a second blue and white bass, the white electric guitar, another red electric guitar, and two acoustic guitars. One was painted glossy black and looked expensive, and the other was a natural wood colour with a few chips in places and a couple of stickers stuck to the body. That was the one Marceline took off of its hanger and brought over to where Bonnie was sat on the bed.

She held it out, but Bonnie hesitated. "Are you sure you want me to mess around with it? It was your mom's. What if I break it?"

"Your weak ass? Sure," Marceline said, still offering the guitar. "Seriously, Bonnie, I trust you'll be careful."

With extreme care, Bonnie took the guitar and held it the way she'd seen Marceline do it. The older girl grabbed the other acoustic guitar and sat down next to her. "Okay, what do you want to learn?"

"Um…" Bonnie paused in thought, "I don't know. Maybe a-"

"Taylor Swift song?" Marceline finished the sentence for her and flashed her a teasing grin. Bonnie blushed. "I know a lot of them. Maybe All Too Well? It's just four chords and none of them are too complicated. I think barre chords might break your fingers. And I'll get you a pick, just thought about that."

Bonnie laughed, "Thought picks were for weenies."

"Exactly why I'm getting you one," Marceline retorted with a grin, "nah, it'll just be easier on your hands."

She opened up the drawer in her bedside table; Bonnie got a glimpse of guitar strings and picks and a book that looked suspiciously like a journal.

"Thanks," She said as Marceline passed her a pink guitar pick, "Okay, teach away."

"Okay, so," Marceline picked at every string and checked if her guitar was in tune, and then did the same to Bonnie's, "Good. The four chords you're going to need for this are C, G, A minor and F. All fairly easy and you can ignore the barre on F and just mute the low E with your thumb if you're a beginner. So…"

"It'll sound like this once you've learned it," She played all four chords effortlessly, humming the melody of the lyrics along with it, but not actually singing, "Pretty basic and it's the same all the way through aside from a couple of changes towards the end of verses. You're smart, you'll catch on fast."

Marceline put her guitar aside and shifted to sit behind Bonnie. She took her wrist and held Bonnie's hand to the guitar's neck. Bonnie really hoped her heart calmed down or she'd have even less of an idea of what she was supposed to be doing. She caught a glimpse of the tattoo up Marceline's outer wrist again. It was small, the words everything stays written in a cursive script. She wanted to ask the meaning but didn't know if it would take the conversation to a heavier place, and Marceline spoke before she could get the words out.

"This is C," Marceline positioned Bonnie's fingers in the right places, "Try to strum it."

The chord came out muted. "Do I have to press harder?"

"Yeah," Marceline said, "it'll hurt a little bit, but that's why you get callouses over time, from all the pressure. Then it doesn't hurt at all. Try again."

Bonnie pressed harder on the strings, nervous under Marceline's gaze. She strummed the chord, smiling proudly when it rang out clear. "I did it!"

"Mhm," Marceline was smiling that soft smile again, the one Bonnie thought was reserved for her, "you did. Now try G."

She helped Bonnie position her fingers on the right frets, and when Bonnie strummed again, it rang out, rather than sounding muted. "I'm getting pretty good at this. Maybe I'll get Keila to kick you out of the band and replace you with me."

"In your dreams, nerd," Marceline laughed, "Practice switching from C to G. Then we'll add A minor."

Bonnie did as Marceline said, the tips of her fingers already starting to ache, "Still don't know how you did this for four hours straight at prom."

"Practice, baby," Marceline grinned, and Bonnie had to admit that the sarcastic term of endearment made her feel far too much, "I play music all the time, so I'm just used to it."

And because Bonnie was totally shameless, she decided to pretend she couldn't remember the position of the G chord. Putting her fingers on the wrong strings and adding another one just for fun, she said, "This was G, right?"

"Nope," Marceline said, and fixed it for her, moving her fingers to the right position. Totally what Bonnie was angling for. "There you go. You were playing Cadd9."

"Thanks," Bonnie smiled, "I think I'm okay with switching between them, though. Can we try adding A minor?"

"Okay," Marceline moved her hand into position, "There you go. Same thing, switch between all three chords. Hey, didn't you say you used to play piano?"

"I… yeah," Bonnie said, the sad, empty feeling she got every time she thought about her family dropping on her like a ton of bricks. "Yeah, I did. My parents… sort of forced me into it. They wanted me to have some kind of ability in every field, so they made me get piano lessons. It was enjoyable enough, but I didn't have much of a passion for it. I haven't played since… since everything happened. Learning an instrument or music in general always had negative connotations for me, until I met you. Now, when I think of music, I think about you. And nothing could ever be negative about that."

Marceline looked at her so softly that Bonnie's heart stuttered. Green eyes flicked down to glance at Bonnie's lips and then back up to meet hers again, and she could've sworn that maybe, just maybe, Marceline was leaning in.

But then the front door slammed, and Marceline jumped in fright, "God. Dad's back."

And he couldn't have closed the door a little more quietly? Bonnie thought to herself. Was Marceline really about to kiss her? She was at least looking at her differently. Or maybe Bonnie was just kidding herself. Deluded by her own feelings. Yeah, that was probably it.

But, knowing how Marceline felt about her father, and seeing how the light in her eyes seemed to dim, Bonnie asked, "Want to get out of here?"

Marceline looked relieved, "Please. Your place?"

"Mhm," Bonnie said, and when Marceline looked like she was going to move towards her closet to grab some jeans, she said, "Sweats are acceptable in my house."

"Damn, I'm surprised the princess' castle is so lax with the dress code," Marceline retorted, "I was just about to grab one of my many ball gowns for the royal banquet."

Bonnie laughed, "Okay, you in a dress? I bet hell would freeze over before that happened."

Marceline scoffed, placing both guitars back on their wall hangers. "I wear dresses. Rarely, but it does happen."

"Sure," Bonnie said disbelievingly, following her out of her bedroom and towards the stairs, "I'll believe it when I see it."

"When the occasion calls for it," Marceline said, "I'll make sure to send you lots of pictures."

Bonnie raised her eyebrows and leaned down to grab her shoes, "Not inviting me along to the fancy events you have lined up, then? I'm hurt, Marcy. You should know, as a princess, formal events are my favourite thing."

Marceline opened her mouth to retort, but when Hunson stepped out of the living room, she quietened. Bonnie smiled politely, but it was harder to like Mr Abadeer after the things Marceline had told her. How he could hold a grudge towards his daughter for the death of her mother which had nothing to do with her anyway baffled her completely.

"Ah, Miss Butler," Hunson sent her a chilling smile, "are you two going somewhere?"

"We were going to go to my house," Bonnie said, "I didn't want to trouble you guys for dinner."

"Nonsense. Stay for dinner." Hunson said, and Marceline stopped tying the laces on her boots, instead sliding them off and putting them back where they were. Hunson laid eyes on her and asked, "You didn't make Bonnibel think she was burdening us for dinner, did you, Marceline? You need to work on your manners-"

"Actually," Bonnie interrupted, because she couldn't stand to see the way Marceline seemed to shrink in his presence, "It was my idea to go home. Marceline offered to give me a lift when I said no to her offer of staying for dinner."

She said it in a matter-of-fact way, as if to tell him 'see? Polite,' and Hunson merely hummed and said, "Stay for dinner, Miss Butler. My thanks to you for dealing with her as your project partner."

"No thanks required," Bonnie easily replied, thinking kill him with kindness, "She was a wonderful partner. Actually, if we're in the same class next year, I'd like to request her again. We work well together."

"That's surprising," Hunson commented, and Bonnie felt a stab of anger at that subtle dig, "I usually receive complaints, not compliments. Marceline, get started on dinner. I'd like to eat within the hour." Looking back at Bonnibel, he explained, "Cooking is one of her few useful skills," and then glanced at Marceline. "Hurry up and get started."

He turned and stalked back into the living room, leaving Bonnibel livid and Marceline looking incredibly uncomfortable. Bonnie glared in the direction he'd walked in and bumped against Marceline comfortingly. "I'll help you with dinner."

"Don't," Marceline murmured, "You're a guest and he'd never let me hear the end of my bad hosting skills. Just… go sit down, okay? You can go to my room if you don't want to talk to him or hang out with Marshall."

"Are you sure?" Bonnie asked, and when Marceline nodded, she sighed. "Okay. Alright. I… I guess I'll see you for dinner, then."

Marceline nodded again and went to walk away, all of her earlier cheer completely wiped from her face, like it had never been there at all. Bonnie pulled her back and into a hug, and Marceline wrapped her arms around her waist and snuggled her face into her neck. "Thanks, Bonnie. For… saying what you said."

"Of course," Bonnie murmured, "I'll always be on your side."


Marceline was fully preoccupied on vacuuming up her food as fast as she could, so much so that her dad's flippant comments were just bouncing off her. It was awkward. Really awkward, with Bonnie there. It was like a competition. The more Hunson tried to make some kind of negative comment, the more Bonnie would compliment her.

The whole thing just made her uncomfortable.

She looked up in alarm when Hunson said, "Your parents must be proud of you, Miss Butler. Amazing grades, a great attitude for learning, and practical interests."

She heard his thinly veiled insult towards her, but that wasn't what she cared about. She looked at Bonnie, because a mention of her parents was bound to bother her. Right?

If it had, Bonnie didn't let it show. She merely continued her subtle battle with Hunson by saying, "My uncle is very proud of me, yes. But frankly, I have a great attitude for learning towards the subjects I favour, and not as much with others. Much like everyone else. For example, Marceline's passion for music is inspiring, and she actually taught me a few things today."

That was Marceline's cue to check out of the conversation. She'd just wanted to see if Bonnie was alright. She turned and met her brother's gaze, and he flashed a rather awkward smile. Awkward. Yeah, that was the word for family dinners on a normal night. Hunson making not-so-subtle comments about her shortcomings and Marceline doing everything she could not to rise to it. That was what he wanted.

"Music isn't practical and won't get her anywhere. It's a hobby at most," Hunson said his favourite little line, "Favouring a science or mathematics would go a long way. That must be why you're so intelligent, Bonnibel. A logical brain is what one needs in this world. Creativity has barely any use."

"If scientists weren't creative and couldn't think outside of the box, we wouldn't have made half of the scientific discoveries that we have," Bonnie said, and Marceline had to resist the urge to ooooh,"Creativity always has a place. As a culture, we would have nothing without art and music. Without creative people, there'd be nothing to watch on television, no books to read, no music to listen to. The world would be dull. Frankly, a world without creativity isn't one I would ever want to live in."

Marceline had never seen her dad speechless before. No matter the argument, he always seemed to have a rebuttal. But not this time. Bonnie had shut her dad up. Marceline felt like she could kiss her.

(So, not much new there, but whatever.)

Marceline watched as her dad ate the last few bites of his pasta, made a muttered comment about how it was overcooked, and then pick up his plate and storm into the kitchen. She blinked at his empty chair and muttered, "Damn, Bonnie."

Bonnie smiled her perfect smile and said, "Just telling the truth. Pass me the plate of garlic bread, would you?"

Marceline did as she asked, and when she looked over at Marshall, he looked equally as amazed. He grinned at Bonnie and asked, "Dude, can you move in? That was amazing. Next time, I'm bringing popcorn."

Bonnie chuckled to herself, and when she met Marceline's gaze, her smile morphed into something softer. "Like I said, just telling the truth. Anyway, I should be getting home after this…"

Marceline went to offer to drive her, but Marshall said, "Stay over. I want more entertainment. You can sleep in Marceline's room."

Okay, well, Marceline thought. Just when she thought the night couldn't get any better. She looked at Bonnie again, and there was evidence of a light pink blush on her cheeks. "Are you sure that's alright with you, Marcy?"

"Yeah," Marceline said, her brain still processing sharing a bed with Bonnie tonight. "Fine by me."

"Okay, I'll need to run home to get some things and notify Uncle Peter, but it should be alright," Bonnie smiled brightly, "Dinner was lovely, by the way. Thanks, Marceline."

"You're welcome," Marceline was still in awe of her, so her stupid mouth worked before her brain and added on, "anything for you."

After a quick trip to Bonnie's for her to get her overnight stuff, they got back, went upstairs, and got into pyjamas. Bonnie was wearing that t-shirt that Marceline had let her borrow, the one she'd admitted she was never giving back, and Marceline's heart went a little faster at the sight of it.

Bonnie flopped down onto the bed and frowned. Marceline raised her eyebrows. "What? Are you shocked by the size of a normal human bed? Too used to your-"

She cut herself off when Bonnie reached under the covers and pulled Hambo out. Like it was a reflex, she blushed, and snatched him from her grip. "Nothing to see there."

Marceline didn't look at Bonnie when she asked, "You sleep with a teddy bear?"

Marceline scoffed, "No. Where did you get that wild idea from?"

"Well, from the teddy bear you're hiding behind your back," Bonnie said, a hint of amusement in her voice, "and the fact that it was previously in your bed."

"Okay, first of all, he," Marceline corrected, and then realised that she'd just completely made the whole thing worse. Bonnie stared at her in an amused state of shock, and then burst out laughing. "Hey! Shut up, you- you're… ugh."

"Sorry, it's just funny. Not even sleeping with a teddy bear, just the fact that it's you," Bonnie laughed, "You! The girl who walks around acting all punk rock and too cool. God, that's the best. So, what's his name?"

"You don't get to know because you laughed about it," Marceline childishly retorted, "you can go sleep on the couch. It's small like you're used to. Get off my bed."

Bonnie rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. "Come on, you have to admit it's kind of hilarious. You're the last person I'd ever expect to do that."

"If you tell anyone, you're dead," Marceline poked her in the side, "I'm serious, Bon, I'll mess you up. I'm all kinds of tough."

"She said while holding a teddy bear," Bonnie retorted, and Marceline just groaned and laid back on the bed, "I'm serious, though. Tell me about him. Obviously he means a lot to you. And I wasn't really making fun of it, okay?"

"Okay, okay. First, his name is Hambo," Marceline replied, "Simon gave him to me."

Bonnie raised her eyebrows. "Simon?"

Marceline wasn't sure how to describe Simon, so she just went in with the story. Saying 'the guy I wish was my dad' might be a little too awkward. "After my mom died, that was kinda when things with my dad got… the way they are, because he blamed me. It was too hard for him to deal with, apparently, so I lived with Simon for a while. He's an old family friend, which is kinda crazy to me, because I don't know how a guy like Simon could be friends with dad. But whatever. I was a huge mess when mom died. I didn't understand it, and I didn't understand why dad sent me to live there. Thought he didn't want me anymore. Simon gave me Hambo and promised me that even if everyone else is gone, I'd always have him. So it's kind of a security thing."

"Oh," Bonnie murmured, "I'm sorry for laughing."

"It's okay. I'm not mad at you." Marceline said, flashing a smile for good measure. "You didn't know. And I guess it is kinda funny."

"Yeah, but… it means a lot to you. I don't want to put you down for anything like that." Bonnie said. "Do you still see him? Simon, I mean."

"Yeah," Marceline said, and after a moment of pause, added, "He has dementia. It's… it's in the early stage right now but… it sucks."

"I'm sorry," Bonnie grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, "and if you feel comfortable, and if he feels comfortable, I'd like to meet him."

"Yeah. That'd be nice, actually." Marceline said after considering it for a moment. She pushed herself up and said, "I'm gonna get a drink before bed. Want anything?"

"No thanks," Bonnie smiled, and before Marceline could get off the bed, she pulled her in for a hug, "but thanks for trusting me."

"Yeah, well," Marceline shrugged, hugging her back, "you make it easy."

She pulled away with a smile and headed downstairs, humming a melody to herself. It had been a good day. A great day, minus the fact she'd had to see her dad for part of it. But she'd seen Bonnie put him in his place, which was basically the best thing ever, and made up for all of his snide little comments.

She grinned at the thought of it. The way his jaw had snapped shut in defeat, how he'd stomped out of the room, embarrassed. It was the best.

She was reaching out to open the fridge when a hand clamped down on her wrist. "Marceline."

All positive thought flew out of the window.

He wouldn't, she thought, heart in her throat, not now. "Yes?"

"What have you said to Bonnibel about our… turbulent relationship?" Hunson asked, and she bit down on her bottom lip, wincing at his hard grip on her wrist. She needed to think carefully about what she said next. "Nothing too telling, I hope?"

"She doesn't know anything." Marceline kept her voice steady and maintained eye contact, despite every instinct telling her to do the opposite. "She's just… protective."

He seemed to take her answer at face value for once. At least, he let go of her arm. He sent her a smile that chilled her to the bone. "I don't know why I worried. She wouldn't believe you, anyway. Nobody would."

Nobody would. The two words echoed in her mind. The two words she'd always known to be fact. Nobody would. But Bonnie might. There was no sense in telling her, though. Nothing would come of it except pity, and there was nothing she hated more. Except maybe her father.

"I know," She managed to get out, "Can I go back to bed, please?"

Hunson nodded, and it took everything in her not to run back to her room. She shut the door behind her and realised she completely forgot the bottle of water she'd gone down for in the first place. Whatever. She didn't need it that much.

Bonnie sat up in bed and smiled tiredly at her. She always looked so cute without her glasses; it made her squint in this adorable way. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Marceline hid her wrist behind her back when she saw the red mark blossoming there and flashed Bonnie a smile, "all good."