Bonnie's brain didn't feel like it was working.

She wasn't sure if she should be happy or sad. She was fairly certain that she was allowed to be worried, even though Marceline had asked her not to be. Basically, she had a lot to think about, and her brain wasn't sure how to cope with it.

She didn't want to talk to Lady about it, at least not right away. She picked up her phone and scrolled through her text conversations, double checking the one with Marceline first. Every text for the last four days, since Marceline had gone home, had been similar.

bonnie (10:23AM): Everything okay? :)

Marcy (12:03PM): mhm, all good here, bon :)

She didn't want to overwhelm Marceline, but at the same time, she was worried for her. Bonnie was a natural worrier, and she cared about Marceline more than she cared about the average person. With Marceline's situation considered, Bonnie was surprised she hadn't flipped out and gone crazy bodyguard. Every time she thought about Marceline and her father, she felt physically ill with concern, even though Marceline had been fine so far.

She wouldn't lie, would she? Bonnie thought to herself. Though Marceline was notoriously hard to read, Bonnie could always tell when she lied. She hadn't seemed dishonest when she'd assured Bonnie she would be alright.

She looked back at today's text. Mhm, all good here, Bon. She guessed she'd just have to trust her, at least until she could figure out some way to get Marceline out of there safely without her having to 'ruin her brother's life'. She knew that Marceline would keep throwing herself into the firing line if it meant Marshall could remain peacefully oblivious and it was so frustrating. For now, all she could do was be on guard and try to figure out some kind of permanent remedy for the situation. It was just so hard to focus through all of her worry.

She left that text conversation and scrolled to her second most recent. Bubba had recently upgraded to an iPhone, so now they no longer had to rely on Facebook messenger and Skype. It was mid-afternoon now, so he'd definitely be awake – his last text to her was from this morning – but just in case, she sent a quick text asking if he had any time to FaceTime her.

She needed to talk to him about this rather than Lady. While Lady was a good friend, Bubba had always been the one to see the clear meanings in the things Bonnie overthought, and the fact that he didn't know Marceline at all made it easier. He was unbiased, and wasn't making judgements based on what he thought Marceline was like.

Her phone buzzed, with the notification that Bubba was calling. She answered instantly and leaned back against her desk chair, phone in one hand and the hem of Marceline's t-shirt in her other. "Hi, Bubba."

"Bonnie!" He smiled widely, "You alright? How are things?"

"I answered that question over text this morning, but just for your benefit, I'll answer again," Bonnie teased him, before admitting, "I'm okay. A little confused, but… I'm alright."

"Confused?" He asked, because she hadn't mentioned that part over text. There were a lot of things that she hadn't mentioned over text. "Confused how?"

"There's this… there's this girl," Bonnie started, and wondered if he'd just catch on, since she'd never shown any interest in boys around him. She'd never told him the reason her parents had kicked her out either, just that they had. She hadn't told anybody that before, aside from Marceline. She blamed her pretty green eyes. "And I think we maybe… both admitted that we like each other. But I'm not sure if I'm interpreting that in the wrong way. So, basically, I'm overthinking myself into a rut."

Bubba blinked, and she could see the realisation set in. She waited rather anxiously for him to say something, and when he did, all he said was, "Like each other in what way?"

"Um, like… a crush way," Bonnie elaborated, and after a beat of silence, she added, "I'm gay."

"Oh," Bubba said. She watched her confession sink in, and felt relief wash over her like a tidal wave when Bubba's smile came back. "Okay, well, what did she say? And what did you say?"

"I told her I cared about her, more so than she knew. And then she said 'I think I'm starting to know'. And then I admitted that I do make it rather obvious, 'it' being my crush on her." Bonnie recounted, "and then she said that she did too. And I told her that I didn't notice, and she told me that I miss the obvious a lot. She didn't actually say the words I like you, but… it just felt like a confession, and at the time I thought it was. It felt like something changed between us, but then… we didn't really say anything else about it. I referenced future plans between us as a date, and she didn't dispute it, but… god, Bubba, she's the most confusing person I've ever met."

Bonnie truly didn't know if Marceline had meant what she said. Maybe Bonnie had just taken it the wrong way. Marceline might've been telling her that she really cares about her as a friend.

"Well, does she like girls?" Bubba asked, and when Bonnie nodded, he laughed, "I think she likes you. But in case you're not sure, what other things does she do? Also, send me a picture, I want to see what she looks like."

Bonnie rolled her eyes, and as she went to her camera roll – she had this one picture that she'd made Marceline take with her, and the way she smiled in it was just so beautiful – she recounted to Bubba some of the other things Marceline did. "Well… she holds my hand a lot, and we cuddle sometimes, but girls are touchy like that. And I kiss her cheek and she doesn't shove me away. Occasionally she does the same. She teases me a lot. Mimics my accent and shoves her smelly feet in my face and licks me. But she's also so thoughtful and considerate. She looked up places to get fish and chips because she thought I might not have had it for ages, and that… that felt like a date."

"She so fancies you," Bubba laughed, "she definitely does make it obvious. Why didn't you go in for the kiss when you guys were talking about it?"

"I did, but I chickened out and ended up just kissing her cheek," Bonnie sighed, "and I don't know, I guess I just want that stupid rom-com fantasy where I kiss her at the perfect moment and it's… magical."

"Oh, your picture just came through," Bubba said, and the FaceTime video paused as he looked at it, "Okay, wow. If you're not dating her, I will."

"Back off," Bonnie glared at him through the camera, "but I guess that's why I think she maybe doesn't like me. It's obvious that she's attractive, and she's so cool. She's in a band, and she sings, and-"

Bubba interrupted her. "Has she ever sung anything for you?"

"Yeah, she slept over here a little while ago and brought her bass, and she would play things for me when I asked," Bonnie said, and then thought back to prom, "and at prom, her band were playing, and they played my favourite Taylor Swift song. And I waited to go home with her, and she played me a song she'd written about wanting to slow dance with someone."

"You," Bubba told her with a laugh, "God, Bonnie, aren't you supposed to be a genius? She was totally singing about you."

"But how could you know that?" Bonnie groaned and let her head fall to her desk, "Ugh, I just want to kiss her stupid face and hold her hand and take her on dates and make her my girlfriend but she's so confusing. Do you think she knows she's hard to read?"

"Maybe she doesn't know that you overthink everything," Bubba retorted, "have you spoken to her about… things?"

"She knows about my parents," Bonnie admitted carefully, "I think she could probably gather that it gave me a lot of anxiety. One day, I'll invent some kind of telepathic device, so I never have to worry about what anyone is thinking. I'd always know where I stood."

"That sounds like it would be more of a curse than a blessing," Bubba commented, and Bonnie had to admit that he was right. It would be stellar here, though. She could use it on Marceline and finally have a clear answer. "Alright, I'm going to go. And you're going to call your girlfriend and talk things out with her."

Bonnie rolled her eyes, "She isn't my girlfriend."

"Well, she will be, if you just communicate with her," Bubba said, "she likes you. I promise you that. Let me know how things go, okay?"

"Okay," Bonnie sighed, glancing over to look out of the window. A heavy summer storm had hit, and the rain was basically bouncing off the windows. It reminded her of home. The pathetic fallacy worked for at least part of her mood, the part she wasn't going to talk to Bubba about. No, she couldn't tell him about Marceline's dad. She couldn't betray Marceline's trust like that, because she knew that Marceline would never forgive her for it. She didn't know if that was selfish or not. "Yeah. I'll call her. Thanks for talking things through with me."

"No problem," Bubba smiled, "you know I'm always here for you. Bye, Bonnie."

"Bye," She sent him a little wave just before he hung up, and then put her phone down with a long sigh. "Alright. Just call Marceline and ask her."

She picked up her phone again and hovered over Marceline's contact name with her finger. It took her a few moments to work up the courage to press it. She waited nervously as the dial tone sounded, as the phone rung, rung, rung, and went to voicemail.

Bonnibel tried not to worry. Realistically, she knew that Marceline wasn't answering because she was busy. She was probably at band practice or just hanging out with Keila. She was okay. No matter how many times Bonnie repeated the mantra, she still felt sick to her stomach, a mental image of Marceline unconscious, bruised and bleeding at the forefront of her mind.

When there was a loud hammering on the front door, Bonnie snapped out of the horrible thoughts she was having. She dragged herself up, keeping her phone in her hand in case Marceline called, and made her way downstairs. She unlocked the door and Marceline barrelled past her, mumbling, "Damn, you took your time. Ever think of leaving the door unlocked for me?"

"You didn't tell me you were coming," Not that you ever do, she thought, but Bonnie felt instant relief as Marceline sat down on the stairs and started untying her boot laces, "I called you a couple of minutes ago, actually."

"I know, my phone rang, but I was driving," Marceline pulled her wet jacket off and hung it on the coat hanger. "Why'd you call?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Bonnie said, and when Marceline rolled her eyes and muttered obviously, "No, like, about something."

"Oh," Marceline frowned at her, "well, what's up? You can talk to me about anything."

"I- well…" Bonnie met her gaze, and looking into sparkling green eyes, she wimped out, "Do you want some tea?"

Marceline blinked, "Um… sure. But I also want to know what's up."

"Sugar?" Bonnie asked as she escaped to the kitchen to switch the kettle on. "Or just milk?"

She didn't get a response as she rifled through the cupboards for two mugs, and she nearly smashed the one she was holding when Marceline's hand touched her waist, "Hey, Bonnie, what's going on with you?"

"I was speaking to Bubba earlier," Bonnie prefaced, turning around to meet those stupidly pretty eyes again, "and- well, you know I overthink a lot of things, don't you?"

Marceline's hands were still on her waist, and that was just overthinking proof. What did that mean? She looked concerned. "Um… I guess so. Why?"

"Okay. Well. I'm going to ask a question," Bonnie said, continuing on with her preface, "and I need you to answer it directly. No jokes or sarcasm or whatever. Just a simple, direct, clear answer, so I can't overthink it and second guess myself."

Marceline raised her perfect eyebrows and smiled her perfect smile. "Of course. Ask away."

The kettle clicked off, but Bonnibel ignored it. "Do you… like me? In a non-platonic manner, that is."

"Well, yeah, duh," Marceline laughed, "I thought you knew that."

Bonnie's mouth worked. She couldn't remember any word of the English language because her brain had decided to inconveniently short-circuit upon hearing that wonderful confirmation. Of course Marceline liked her. The alternative seemed ridiculous. She sighed, and a lot of weight and worry came out with it, and her mouth settled into a smile. She rested her head against Marceline's shoulder and hugged her, careful to be gentle, in case her rib still hurt.

"Unless, you know, you don't like me like that," Marceline said, but her arms stayed around Bonnie's waist, "in that case, I never said anything."

Bonnie sighed into her shoulder. "You know I do."

"Yeah, I know," Marceline laughed and snuggled her face into Bonnie's neck, "unlike you, I don't miss the obvious."

Bonnie blushed and lifted her head up with a sheepish smile. "Do you really think I miss the obvious?"

Marceline burst out laughing, "Uh, yeah! I mean, come on, Bonnie. You were texting someone whose name started with M with green eyes who was bisexual and who played a lot of instruments. Like… I could've danced naked waving a big neon sign in front of your face and you'd have been like hm… sounds fake."

"Keila told me it wasn't you!" Bonnie poked her in the arm, "I thought that if she knew we were talking, and knew we didn't like each other, surely she would've told me the truth rather than let me spill my secrets to an insufferablearse."

"You're the insufferable arse," Marceline made sure to switch to the fake British accent for the last two words, "I honestly just love that I figured it out before you. Me. I got it before the brainlord. Probably my biggest achievement."

"I still maintain that I would've realised had Keila not one hundred percent assured me it wasn't you." Bonnie folded her arms across her chest and pouted. Marceline just grinned, and she looked all kinds of adorable. "I assumed she wouldn't allow you to spill your secrets either."

"I didn't, really. You were the blabbermouth." Marceline told her, and Bonnie flushed red. She laughed to herself. "And more to the point, if that doesn't prove you miss the obvious… I've been flirting with you forever and making it so clear that I have a crush on you and you only just realised about two minutes ago."

Bonnie malfunctioned slightly at the words. Her mouth worked, like a fish out of water, and the blush on her cheeks only grew darker. She managed to mumble out, "Well, I thought you were too cool for me. And Keila told me that I wasn't your type."

"Dude, you've got to stop listening to Keila," Marceline laughed, "didn't I tell you that you were?"

"In a totally objective, platonic, hypothetical way," Bonnie quoted her with a mock glare, "plus, Keila said that you said that, so…"

"Did I?" Marceline frowned in confusion, and she looked like she was trying to think back. "Oh! Remember back before we were friends, and you asked to me to meet you in the library to study? To work on our compatibility issues. Keila joked that it was a date and that was when I said that. So that doesn't count."

"Maybe I should stop listening to her then," Bonnie frowned to herself, and busied herself with making tea when she continued, "that was partially why I was mad at you that day you took me for fish and chips. And why I'd avoided you for over a week. The other part was because you kissed Tom at that party and I was mad because I thought you'd maybe been flirting with me before, so it hurt."

"I fucking knew you were lying about that," Marceline shook her head, but she was smiling. She actually looked rather amused at the whole situation. "I didn't realise you saw us. He kissed me, not the other way around, and I pushed him away because I have a thing for you."

Bonnie laughed quietly and passed her a mug, "Well, I couldn't exactly tell you I was mad because you kissed someone who wasn't me, could I?"

"Uh, yeah," Marceline retorted, "you could've. I'd been flirting with you for like, months by then."

"I thought you were just… joking," Bonnie said, "friendly teasing."

Marceline raised her eyebrows. "Bonnie, at prom, I literally sang to you about how I wanted to slow dance with you. But sure, friendly teasing."

"I- that was about me?" Bonnie blinked at her in surprise, realising that Bubba was right, and Marceline laughed to herself. Another question occurred to her. "Wait, how long have you liked me?"

"It kinda smacked me in the face when my brother asked you to prom and I was super jealous," Marceline admitted. "I mean, obviously I didn't want him to get hurt, but I also didn't want it to go well, either. There were a couple of times before that when I thought you were cute, but I didn't realise it was an actual crush until then. Why, how long have you liked me?"

Bonnie blushed. She wasn't sure if it was embarrassing to admit it, but she spoke before she could overthink it. "Admittedly, I have you beat. I think I've always liked you."

"Yeah, I can't believe that," Marceline snorted in disbelief, "no way."

"Obviously not when we didn't like each other, but I still thought you were really attractive back then." Bonnie said, and when Marceline grinned, she added, "Don't let that inflate your already overly-large head. I specifically remember thinking she's so pretty, it's a shame she's such an arse."

Marceline smirked. "Too late, head already inflated. But go on."

"Well, when we stopped attacking each other every time we spoke… I don't think I've ever really formed platonic feelings for you." Bonnie said, pausing to take a sip of her tea. "I was always nervous around you. Partly because I knew you were attractive, and I was still figuring myself out. I sort of confided in Bubba about it after you bought me ice cream that time, because you're so hard to read and I wasn't sure if you even liked me in a friendly way. I didn't tell him about the potential crush, because I wasn't sure on that myself, but he basically told me to stop overthinking it and try to talk to you more."

"And then we became friends and I realised how sweet and considerate you are, and there was really no way I wasn't going to develop feelings for you," Bonnie sighed, and took Marceline's hand with her free one. She played with her fingers, feeling the rough callouses on the tips, "I became conscious of it the day I asked you about Ash, when I thought… you know. That it was him. You smiled at me and I knew I was done for. That I would be hopelessly pining over you forever."

"Well," Marceline took her hand and squeezed it gently, "if it means anything, I'll probably be hopelessly pining over you forever, too."

Bonnie put her tea aside and pressed a kiss just off the corner of Marceline's mouth. "Doesn't seem so hopeless anymore."

"So," Marceline started, and when she hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter, Bonnie didn't pull her down. Mostly because she kept holding her hand, "What do you want to do? You know," she squeezed Bonnie's hand, "with us."

"I… well, it's not like I've ever been in a relationship before," Bonnie said. Admittedly, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. "I don't really know what you're supposed to do. But I do want to do… something."

Marceline wiggled her eyebrows, "Something, huh?"

"Shut up," Bonnie rolled her eyes, "I just mean… I want things to go forward. To develop."

"You know I want that too. I'm going to let you set the pace, okay? We can go slow if you want." Marceline smiled at her so softly that Bonnie almost said forget that, kiss me. "And New York is a date, by the way. If that wasn't obvious already."

Bonnie couldn't contain her smile. "Okay. Good. That's… yeah."

She pushed her glasses up her nose, and Marceline laughed quietly, "It's so cute when you do that."

"Oh, stop it," Bonnie blushed, squeezing her hand. Marceline smiled and hopped off the counter, and even though she really didn't want to kill the mood, she had to ask. "So, are you… okay?"

She touched a hand to Marceline's ribs, and the older girl hummed. "Still achy, but I'm okay. The worst is through."

She looked uncomfortable when it came to that topic, so Bonnie pushed herself up onto tiptoes and kissed Marceline's forehead. "Okay. Come on, let's go sit down. I'll even let you pick what we watch on TV, as long as you promise me one thing."

Marceline frowned, letting Bonnie lead her into the living room, "And what's that?"

Bonnie held out her arms, "That you'll let me cuddle you."

Marceline grinned. "That can be arranged."