tw for hunson
Marceline was running late.
She knew that because she kept anxiously glancing at the time on the car radio screen, watching as the minutes ticked by and the traffic didn't let up. It was stupid of her. She shouldn't have driven to the next town over just to buy a second ukulele, but they'd had the Fender one she wanted in the specific colour she'd wanted, and at the time, she hadn't expected to get stuck in traffic. She'd thought she'd be out for a maximum of three hours, and she'd have plenty of time to vacuum and do the laundry.
The laundry, Marceline thought. She didn't know if she imagined it, but she felt an ache in her rib. That was what got me caught last time.
She looked at the clock again, watched as the minutes ticked, and the car in front of her moved about an inch forwards. A song she liked played on the radio, but unlike usual, she didn't turn it up. All she could think about was her father and how mad he was going to be.
All she could think about was what he was going to do to her.
The car behind her honked their horn, and she snapped out of her anxious trance. She moved forwards (barely) and tried not to feel physically sick when she thought about what was waiting for her when she arrived home.
Marshall will be home, she thought. Her brother was still in his pyjamas when she left, so she assumed he'd been having a lazy day. Hunson wouldn't do anything with Marshall there.
She comforted herself with the thought. Marshall would be there, and she would be okay. She could go out early tomorrow, go see Bonnie or Keila if she wasn't working. That's what you thought last time, that stupid voice at the back of her head mocked and look what happened then.
She arrived home almost two hours after she'd thought she would, and because the universe felt like playing some kind of sick joke on her, her father's car was parked in the driveway.
Your brother is home, she repeated the mantra in her head, you'll be okay.
She was still shaking like a leaf when she stood on the front porch. She dropped her keys five times and jumped back in sheer terror when the front door opened, and her father looked down on her with a disappointed expression on his face.
Marceline knew she should run. She was outside, and he wouldn't do anything outside. Only behind closed doors would he show his true colours. She should turn around, get into her car, and run away. Possibly never come back.
Hunson pushed the door open wider. "Inside, Marceline."
Despite every instinct in her body screaming at her to run, and run now, Marceline's legs moved of their own accord and autopiloted her forwards. It would be much worse later if she ran. He might break something else if she ran. If she did as she was told, it wouldn't be as bad.
She'd left the ukulele in the trunk of her car; if he saw her walking in late with that, it would be bad. Music always set him off. Forgetting a chore because she lost track of time… she could walk away from that. Forgetting a chore because she was buying a new instrument? He would break something. She knew it. Her hands shook as she blundered with the laces of her boots, trying to take them off, her father's stern gaze only amplifying her fear.
When she went to place her shoes by the door, her throat closed over. Marshall's shoes were gone. He wasn't home.
Oh no.
"I believe I asked you to vacuum and finish the laundry before I arrived home, and you have shirked your responsibilities once again."
"I'm sorry," it was the first thing out of her mouth, and all she managed to do was repeat it, "I'm sorry, I didn't- I didn't mean…"
Hunson folded his arms over his chest and watched her, that terrifying look of his rooting her to the spot. His icy blue eyes inspected her invasively like he was waiting for her to lie about where she'd been. Which was what she had to do, because he would flip if he knew she'd bought another instrument.
But then he asked the question, and she had no choice but to answer. "Where were you?"
"I was with Bonnie," It was the first thing that Marceline thought of. If he asked her, she knew that Bonnie would lie for her. "I lost track of time. I'm sorry."
She cringed back, waiting for the first hit, or kick, or anything. This was where it always came. Right after he'd forced an apology out of her.
"You were with Bonnibel," Hunson repeated quietly, and Marceline kept her mouth shut. No way was she going to say anything to make this worse. Oddly, though, he looked wary. "Have you done as I asked? Removed any… doubts that Miss Butler might have about my parenting?"
"She hasn't asked about anything." Marceline lied through her teeth and hoped it was convincing enough. She almost added that Bonnie wouldn't believe her but thought better of it. Both she and her father knew that Bonnie would. "I don't think she knows. But she would notice if I was hurt. Like you said, she's observant."
The words came out in a little bit of a flurry, and she wasn't entirely sure where they came from. Hunson seemed to mull the words over. Her heart was beating out of her chest as he looked at her. All breathing felt like it was blocked by the massive lump in her throat. He watched her carefully, like he was assessing her, stripping her down with his gaze, trying to detect a lie. She could almost feel his presence in her head, feel him wandering around in there, trying to break down her walls.
She waited for it. Waited for the pain. It always came here. Always.
"Get started on your chores this instant." Hunson finally bit out, icy blue eyes still bearing into her very soul. "Do not disobey me again."
He turned and stalked back into the living room, and Marceline slumped against the wall, trying somehow to get her breath back, to feel something other than terror. Was it a trick? That was never just it. He never ever just told her off. There was always more. Always some form of physical pain in the form of a lesson.
Then she realised what he'd said. Get started on your chores this instant. It wouldn't be just the one smack if she didn't do as she was told. She scrambled to get up and sprinted to the laundry room.
She felt much better with a few walls between her and her father.
Bonnie was finding it very, very hard to contain her anger.
She hadn't had the pleasure of seeing Hunson Abadeer since he tried to convince her that Marceline was some sort of violent thug. Naturally, when he opened the front door upon her knock, she had to force herself to smile.
She remembered what Marceline had said. He can't know that you know. She didn't want to put her girlfriend in danger. She felt guilty, carrying the knowledge around and not doing anything about it, but Marceline had assured her that he hadn't done anything to her since he'd broken her rib. Against all of her natural instincts, she believed her.
"Hello," She managed to get out from between gritted teeth, "is Marceline home?"
Her car was in the driveway, but he shook his head. A feeling of mistrust washed over her, and she wondered if Marceline was hurt, but then he stepped aside and opened the door wider. "She went out for a run. Come in, you may wait for her if you please."
She stepped inside, despite misliking the way he was looking at her. He looked… wary. Like he was assessing her. It was odd. She slipped her shoes off and noted Marshall's sneakers were there. That must be why Marceline was home, since her brother was.
If his shoes didn't clue her in, the way he jumped from the fourth step on the staircase with a loud, "Yo, Bonnie," did. Hunson looked between them and quietly disappeared into the living room. Bonnie spared a glare his way once his back was turned.
"Hello, Marshall," she greeted him. She hadn't seen him for a while, and upon glancing his easy smile, she had a sudden wave of dislike. It took her a few moments to realise why.
He lived here. If Bonnie could notice that something was wrong between Marceline and her father, why the hell couldn't her brother? He was the entire reason that Marceline wouldn't speak out, and he didn't even notice how much pain his sister was going through just so he could continue living his cushy existence.
Bonnie had no idea how Marceline didn't resent him.
"Things good with you and you know who?" He wiggled his eyebrows, and she had to look away. "You do know who I mean, right?"
"Yes, I'm aware," Bonnie answered, her tone slightly clipped. She sighed and tried to remind herself that it wasn't his fault. "They're good."
"I thought so. She seems super happy lately," Marshall said, and then his expression dipped into something of a frown, "hasn't gotten into any fights for a while, either."
Bonnie let out an irritated growl before she could think about it. You idiot, she wanted to yell, how the hell could you think that of your own sister when she gives up so much for you? "She doesn't do that. I know that for a fact."
Marshall looked at her a little oddly, but he just shrugged. "Alright then. Want anything to drink?"
"No thanks," Bonnie dismissed him and glanced towards the stairs. "I think I'm just going to wait in Marceline's room for her."
Before he could answer, she slipped past him and made her way upstairs, opening up Marceline's bedroom door. Her blinds were flicked closed, so she walked over and opened them up, letting a bit of natural light into the room. The sunlight bounced off the guitars on the walls, making the red bass look bright and shiny. She busied herself with making Marceline's bed, because the duvet was left rumpled and messy and the pillows were askew. Underneath the sheets, she found Hambo, an old sock that she cringed at and threw away, and a small harp shaped instrument. She frowned at it and carefully left it on Marceline's beside table, next to an empty mug and a book.
She picked up the book with interest. The Shining by Stephen King. Bonnie had read it before, a few years prior, but she opened it to the first page anyway. She only managed to get a paragraph read before the door swung open and Marceline walked in.
She didn't notice her; her earphones were in and she was humming along to whatever song she was listening to. Her hair was pulled back in a long ponytail, and her skin was glistening with sweat. Her breathing was a little laboured, but she didn't seem too tired. Admittedly, Bonnie had been surprised when Marceline had mentioned her interest in running, but she supposed that you didn't get that nice a body by laying around playing instruments all day.
Marceline turned around, saw her, and jumped about fifty feet in the air with a rather girlish scream and a loud, "Oh my god."
Bonnie burst out laughing as Marceline doubled over, her breathing much heavier after that little fright. "Hey there."
"Oh my god," Marceline repeated, pulling one earbud out and looking at her with wide green eyes, "Don't do that to me, Bonnie."
"Enjoy your run?" Bonnie asked casually, "Or did you prefer your jam session with the harp I found in your bed?"
Marceline took a few more moments to level out her breathing before she said, "It's a lyre. And yeah, I guess. What are you doing here? Did you come over just to give me a heart attack?"
"Just… wanted to see you," Bonnie shrugged. Or check on you. Talk to you about an idea I had that you're not going to like. "Are you okay?"
"Well, I think the Bonnie-induced heart attack has passed without damage, so yeah," Marceline said, "Give me like ten minutes to get a shower and then you've got my full attention, okay?"
"Okay," Bonnie said, but her eyes widened so much she was worried they'd pop out of her skull when Marceline pulled off the tank top and running shorts she was wearing and let her hair down, without giving her any warning.
She looked away respectfully, and Marceline just laughed. "You don't have to look away, Bon. You're my girlfriend, it's allowed."
That was a fair point, but Bonnie shook her head. "I can't concentrate well enough to form words looking at you like that."
Marceline snorted with laughter and flopped down on the bed next to her, pulling Bonnie in for a kiss. When she pulled away, she smirked. "How overtly homosexual of you, Bonnie."
"Go get your shower, smelly," Bonnie pushed her away, and Marceline pouted at her. As she turned around to grab some fresh clothes, admittedly, Bonnie took an appreciative glance. "Be quick, though. There's something I want to talk to you about."
Marceline frowned, and Bonnie had a feeling there would be a lot more of that later. She didn't want to cause a fight only days into a real relationship with Marceline, but there was something she had to ask. Something that she couldn't stop thinking about. A solution, maybe. A little, tiny ray of hope.
"Uh, okay," Marceline grabbed a bath robe from the hook on her door and wrapped herself up in it. "I'll be like ten minutes. Don't read my journal."
With that, she spun on her heel and left the bedroom, obviously walking across the hall for the bathroom. Bonnie glanced at the leather journal on Marceline's bedside table and laughed quietly. Of course she wouldn't, but there was a little temptation to take a peek. Just to see what Marceline said about her in there.
Her mood quickly dampened, because Bonnie had a feeling that the oncoming conversation wouldn't go smoothly. She knew that her home life wasn't something Marceline wanted to talk about – or think about, mostly – because she seemed a little uncomfortable any time Bonnie asked her if she was alright.
(The other day, she'd noted a bruise on Marceline's arm and questioned her about it, and she'd positively bristled and told her in a rather short tone, "I'm not an invalid, Bonnie.")
She sighed and picked Hambo up from where she'd left him resting on Marceline's pillow. The teddy bear was comforting to hold in her hands, and Bonnie didn't know if she'd gone a little crazy when she talked to him, "I just don't know what to do."
Because she didn't. She'd tried to do things Marceline's way, tried to keep it a secret, but the guilt was starting to eat away at her. She felt complicit in Hunson's abuse by knowing about it and not actively doing something to keep Marceline safe.
When Marceline returned from her shower, dripping wet hair onto the black hoodie she'd thrown on, Bonnie broached the topic. "You're not going to like what I want to talk about."
Marceline's smile died quite quickly. "Oh."
"It's important, though. And as your girlfriend, I think you should listen to me. You know I care about you." Bonnie prefaced, and she couldn't look at Marceline as she said it. "I want you to tell someone what he's doing to you."
"No."
She'd expected that. "Marceline, there are ways to keep you safe that don't require separating you from your brother."
"You don't understand," Marceline wouldn't look at her, and when Bonnie went to put a hand on her shoulder, she shrugged it off. "It would crush him, okay? If Marshall knew, it would kill him, and I'm not going to do that to him. He's already lost one parent and I'm not going to let him lose the other."
"Marshall wouldn't want his sister hurt," Bonnie tried to make her see, "Marceline, it's not selfish of you to want to do something about it. Even if you don't want to speak out about your dad, you can't live with him anymore. I won't let you. I won't let you take some punishment you think you deserve because he's brainwashed you into thinking you're somehow guilty for what happened to your mum."
"I'm a minor and he's my legal guardian so it really doesn't matter what you say," Marceline muttered, completely ignoring that point about her mother. All it did was cement it in Bonnie's mind. That was why she wouldn't leave. "Bonnie, I've dealt with it for years, a few more months won't kill me."
The words were like a smack in the face.
"But what if it does?"
Marceline whipped her head around to look at her, and Bonnie tried not to let any tears spill. That was what had forced her to have this conversation. The possibility of Hunson doing something fatal. "What?"
"What if it does?" Bonnie repeated, aware of the big crack in her voice as she said it. But she tried to remain calm. She had to be. "What if he does something that kills you? What then? I can't just keep this a secret. I tried because you asked me to, but it makes me feel complicit. Like I'm partially at fault for everything he does to you because I know and I've kept it a secret. Like I'd be at fault if he did something that killed you when I could've gotten you out."
Marceline's mouth worked, and Bonnie couldn't make herself look at her. It hurt too much; all she could picture were the black eyes, the nasty purple bruising on her ribs, that bright spark of mischief disappearing from green eyes.
"Bonnie…" A hand touched hers, and Bonnibel made herself look up. Marceline flashed a lopsided smile, but it was kind of weak. "I'm okay. Really. He's gone easy on me lately."
"Oh, joy," Bonnie barked out rather bitterly, "so he just smacked you around a little bit instead of breaking any bones. How kind of him."
"Bonnie, any solution you think you have, I can guarantee that I looked it up years ago." Marceline sighed, "I don't want to lose everything. I'd probably end up moved away from everyone I care about, split up from my brother, away from my childhood home which is pretty much the closest reminder I have of my mom… it's the lesser of two evils."
Bonnie hated that. Hated that Marceline would just settle for this. That she'd just let it happen, because some part of her thought she deserved it. "You could go back to live with Simon."
She'd been thinking about it since she'd met him – the way Simon treated Marceline was the way a father should, and she'd lived with him before. Bonnie didn't see why she couldn't now.
"Simon is sick and I'm not going to put any more stress on him," Marceline said with a heavy finality. "No."
"Fine. Come and stay with me, then." Bonnie said, and tried not to be offended when Marceline rolled her eyes. "It's not a problem. Peter took in one kid with shitty parents, he would do it a second time."
"I told you before, that's not a solution. My dad is my legal guardian as long as I'm under eighteen and he'll just drag me right back home by my hair." Marceline sighed. "This is why I didn't want anybody to know, because they'd think they could help. I was fine handling it on my own."
"You kept showing up to school with countless injuries, so I really don't think you were." Bonnie muttered. She knew that Marceline heard her, even though she didn't deign to respond. "Marcy, just let me help you."
"You can't help." Marceline said it with such resignation it broke her heart. "I can deal with it. It's fine."
"If you told Simon, he would take you in in a heartbeat. I saw how much he cared about you." Bonnie said, and Marceline just squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "Besides, he seemed lonely. I know he mentioned a fiancée, but-"
"Betty left him. When he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. He doesn't usually mention it." Marceline interrupted, and mumbled, "I can't live with him, Bonnie. I'm not going to make things worse for him by letting him find out his friend is an abusive jerk, and there's no way my dad would just let me move in with him for no reason."
Before Bonnibel could say anything, Marceline pulled her in for a tight hug and continued. "I know you're worried, and if I could take back you ever finding out, I would. I don't want you to feel secondhand guilt from whatever he does just because you can't fix it."
Bonnie sighed into Marceline's shoulder. Despite what she'd said, she still felt accountable. Like she was lying for Hunson, not Marceline. "I just wish I could do more for you."
"I know, but it's just something I've got to deal with." Marceline sounded so… resigned. It killed her. But before she could push, her girlfriend changed the subject. "Come on. I'll make you some tea. I went online and bought some of your Yorkshire tea that you like."
If anything, that simple act of kindness made Bonnie's heart hurt more. "You did?"
"Yeah. Figured if you're going to be over here more often, I gotta have your favourite drink," Marceline flashed a small smile. "You mentioned one time that you always like a cup of tea in the morning to help wake you up, so…"
It hurt. Just hearing that hurt. Purely because of how thoughtful it was. Marceline was probably the kindest person that Bonnie had ever met, and she had to go through so much. That wasn't how it should be.
"Oh," Bonnie cupped her jaw and pulled her in for a kiss, "you are legitimately the most considerate person I've ever met."
Marceline blushed and stood up, holding out her hand for Bonnie to help her up. "Come on. You can teach me how to make it the way you like."
"Okay." Bonnie said, and she let Marceline lead her downstairs. She still felt uncomfortable and guilty.
Even though she didn't want to betray her trust, Bonnie started to wonder if she should go behind Marceline's back and tell an authority figure. She would lose her; Bonnie knew that for a fact. Marceline would probably never, ever forgive her. But she would be safe.
She needed to somehow persuade Marceline to tell someone. If she failed, she would have to bite the bullet and tell someone. Whatever that meant for her relationship with Marceline. Even if it meant the end of it.
"I also bought a kettle," Marceline said, and Bonnie felt her heart clench again. "Because I know from Twitter that there are all these memes that Americans make tea with a microwave and I don't want to make your big brain explode."
"Again, you astound me with how thoughtful you are," Bonnie murmured. It broke her heart; Marceline was probably the sweetest person that Bonnie had ever met, and because of her horrible father, nobody ever got to see it.
Marceline flicked the kettle on and went to the cupboard to get the mugs and the teabags out. "Okay, I'm going to go to the bathroom while that boils. Wait here, look cute."
She kissed Bonnie's cheek and whirled out of the room, and Bonnibel looked after her with a heavy heart. She sighed, leaning against the cupboards, and jumped when she heard that voice.
"Penny for your thoughts, Miss Butler?"
She turned around and tried not to glare at him. Hunson was standing in the doorway, watching her with that strange wary look. It was extremely challenging not to grab one of the kitchen knives and go to town, and she had to grapple for some other thing to tell him. "Just… thinking about Simon. How bad it is what he's going through."
"Yes, Marceline mentioned that the two of you went to dinner at his house," Hunson said, and Bonnie had to resist the urge to punch him in the throat. "A good man, and an old friend. It's a shame what he's going through."
Through gritted teeth, Bonnie asked. "Do you visit him much?"
"I'm afraid I haven't found the time recently," Hunson admitted, and Bonnie doubted it was a matter of being unable to find the time. More not being bothered to. "Marceline visits enough for the both of us. She's very attached to him."
"He seemed lonely. Marceline mentioned that she used to live with him, for a while." Bonnie said, and when an idea sparked in her head, she latched onto it. It was a long shot, and a risk, but it was worth a try. "Maybe it'd be a good idea for her to go back, at least before finishing high school. Just to keep him company and have someone there to look after him what with what he's going through. I know there's no cure for Alzheimer's, but company from a loved one might help… prolong the inevitable."
Hunson looked at her like he knew something more, so Bonnie plastered on a sickly sweet smile. "I don't know about that. She has lots to focus on without looking after him. Senior year school work is highly important and I have hopes for her to go to a good college."
When Marshall walked into the kitchen, Bonnie latched onto him. "Marshall, don't you think it'd be a good idea for Marceline to stay with Simon for a while, keep him company? I'm sure it would make him happy."
"Yeah," Marshall grinned, and Bonnie was relieved he'd gone along with it without knowing why Bonnie was pushing so hard for it. "Yeah, she loves Simon, and it'd be good for her to spend time with him before… you know. And she still has her old room at his place. Why, did she ask to go?"
"Did who ask to go where?" Marceline asked as she walked back into the kitchen. She hesitated when she saw her dad, and when she came to stand next to Bonnie, admittedly, Bonnie put herself between Marceline and Hunson. "What are we talking about?"
"You," Hunson looked on his daughter with something Bonnie didn't like written across his face. It was… threatening. "Bonnibel seems to think it would be a good idea for you to stay with Simon Petrikov. Keep him company."
Marceline's head whipped around to Bonnie with wide eyes. "You said that?"
She looked terrified, and it broke Bonnie's heart. Marshall, oblivious, said, "I think it's a great idea, Marce. You love Simon, and you gotta admit, he's lonely."
"I can't see why it would be a bad thing. He seemed like a wonderful man, and it's not like you'll be any further away from school." Bonnie said, aware of how Marceline was looking at her. Aware of how frightened she looked, like her dad was about to snap. It made Bonnie feel so much anger towards him, but she kept her voice steady. "I know if it were me in his situation, I wouldn't want to go through it alone."
Hunson was still staring Marceline down, but when she wouldn't speak, he quietly answered, "You will talk to Simon and see if he will be good enough to have you before making any rash decisions, Marceline. But I will allow it."
"I- what?" Marceline blinked at him, her mouth working in an attempt to form words. "You're letting me go?"
"If Simon will allow it. You have lived with him before, and Miss Butler raised a good point." Hunson said, and Marceline looked apprehensive. "Maybe you will come back having learned some responsibility."
When he turned and stalked out of the room that way he always seemed to do, Marceline looked between Marshall and Bonnie and mumbled, "What the hell did you do?"
"A good thing," Marshall was the one who spoke, "Get calling Simon, Marce. This means I get the Xbox because Simon's TV is too ancient to take it."
He flashed the two of them a grin before heading back off towards the stairs, and Bonnie waited for Marceline to say something. She didn't. So, Bonnibel spoke up first. "I realise that you're probably mad at me for doing that. It was a risk, and I will stay with you until you go to Simon's to make sure he doesn't get his hands on you. Because I won't let him hurt you again."
"Bonnie…" Marceline managed to get out, "I'm not mad. I'm just… a little terrified. I don't know what his angle is. Why he's letting me go. Because I don't think it's out of love for Simon."
Bonnie took Marceline's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "It'll be okay, Marcy. You're going to be okay. I'm going to make sure of that."
She quickly busied herself with making the tea – because tea always made things a little bit better – and Marceline got a few cookies out and put them on a plate. She looked scared and it was such a weird emotion to see on her. Marceline had always put up a tough front.
Bonnie was halfway up the stairs, with Marceline following behind her, when she heard it.
"Marceline. A word."
Hunson's quiet, commanding voice spoke from the living room. Bonnie felt ready to fight, and she probably looked it too, because Marceline glanced at her and shook her head. She mouthed the words, "It'll be okay," and Bonnie felt like she had to trust her. She'd already violated that today and put Marceline in danger with the risk she'd taken.
Once she was sure that Bonnie was upstairs, Marceline stepped into the living room, trying to keep a firm grip on the plate of cookies. "Yes?"
"She knows, Marceline. There's no doubt in my mind about that anymore." Hunson gave her a rather piercing stare. "I don't know if you told her, or if she worked it out. But she knows."
Marceline let out a nervous cough but kept otherwise silent. Best not to give that an answer.
"And somehow, you have convinced her not to tell anybody. You have protected me." Hunson commented. If she was brave enough, Marceline would tell him that she was protecting her brother, not him. But she kept her mouth shut. "It is on that condition that I will allow you to stay with Simon. I have much to lose if news of our home life came to light. Bonnibel's silence is my condition, Marceline. If she whispers a word to anybody, I will bring you right back home, and you will be in more trouble than ever. If I have nothing to lose, neither will you. Do you understand me?"
She managed a stiff nod. "Yes. I- I understand."
"Glad that we are in agreement for once." Hunson stated calmly. "You'd better get started with packing. I don't doubt that Simon would love to have you, for reasons I cannot understand."
She took that as her cue to back out of the room, and the cookies on the plate she was holding almost went flying a few times in her quick scramble to get up the stairs. She knew she probably looked more than a little shaken, because Bonnie immediately got up and pulled her in for a hug. "Did he-"
"He knows you know," Marceline mumbled into her shoulder, "he already kinda suspected, but now he knows. You can't tell anyone. He'll let me go to Simon's as long as you don't tell anyone."
Bonnie held her tighter. "I won't. You know I won't. Not if it'll keep you safe."
"Yeah," Marceline whispered back, because if there was one thing she knew, it was that. "I know. Thank you."
"Don't thank me," Bonnie said, gentle fingers combing through her hair in that comforting manner that Bonnibel always seemed to possess. "You don't ever need to thank me. I promise you, he will never, ever hurt you again. Not while I'm here."
Marceline didn't know if she was being silly when she believed her.
