Sunday, May 6th

The sound of a slamming car door was the start to Bonnibel's day. The thin walls of their small rental home was unable to filter the outside noise. And yes that included their next door neighbor's screaming matches and the sounds of neighborhood children playing in their respective backyards.

Yes, she should have been up by then, considering it was 2 in the afternoon. It was almost obscene for her to sleep in this late. From a very young age, Bonnibel had been diagnosed with insomnia. She was up in the early hours of the day and stayed as late as her tiny body would allow her. She could blame how her body needed more rest to heal or how her medication for her injury made her sleepy, but she also couldn't dismiss that Marceline's absence had affected her somewhat.

She could also argue how subjective time was and justify the extra sleep-but that was beside the point. The heavy-handed slam of the car door outside meant Marceline was home.

In an attempt to rush toward the door, Bonnie rolled out of bed, butt first onto the bedroom floor. Ignoring the pain and torpid fatigue that encompassed her body, she ran toward-well, more like half-crawled toward-the door.

Hoisting herself up, she threw it open. She found herself face to face with Marceline, who stood key in hand, stopping herself from jabbing Bonnie's arm as if it were the lock.

And as horrifically sappy as this sounded, the warmth in the room returned and the colors in her vision appeared slightly brighter. Or perhaps that was the flood of dopamine coursing through her veins that made it appear that way.

"Jeez, you scared me half to death-"

The rocker was cut off mid-sentence by a body slamming into her own. If Marceline's hand hadn't caught hold of the door frame, the two would have collapsed onto the doorstep. The sheer force of Bonnibel's hug would have been enough to take out a linebacker head-on.

"Mm...missed you s'much." The pinkette admitted, muffled by her girlfriend's shoulder, squeezing her as tight as she could manage. "You're so warm."

Marceline's hands settled on her girlfriend's waist, along with a kiss to the top of her head. "I missed you too, love."

"You're not allowed to leave this house for the next week."

Her girlfriend chuckled. "Are you grounding me because I went on a required trip?"

"No," Bonnie mumbled into her collar. "Much worse." She took a noticeable whiff of her girlfriend's scent. She chose to ignore the faint smell of sweat from her car ride back. "You're under house arrest."

"Oh? Under what charges?"

"Not calling your girlfriend enough."

"I was-"

"Yeah yeah, I know." Bonnie kissed where her lips laid on her neck. "I saw the video. You looked really suave up there. I was half expecting that middle finger you threatened."

"Decided to take your advice on the professionalism bit."

Bonnie's hands caressed her girlfriend's sharp features and tugged at her shirt collar, itching for a kiss. Marceline chuckled, holding steady on her position, teasing the slightly smaller girl. "Let's get my stuff in first, yeah?"

Bonnibel pouted. "Kiss me, idiot."

"Already back to the name calling? I can't say I missed your abuse, warden."

Bonnibel rolled her eyes, pulling Marceline's shirt collar toward herself. When Marceline wouldn't budge, she lifted herself up on her tiptoes, giving her girlfriend no other option except to give in and relax at her touch.

The bassist in her grasp smelled of home. Her hands, gliding carefully to caress her cheek, smelled of burnished bass strings, metallic. She felt intoxicatingly warm under her fingertips. Especially when sliding them under her shirt...

"Mmf," Marceline grunted, pulling herself away. "Let me bring my stuff in. As sexy as PDA is, it's hot as hell out here."

Reluctantly, Bonnie peeled herself off of her girlfriend, permitting Marceline to walk in their home with her suitcase and bass-in the case she had bought her for Christmas. When the door closed, Bonnie wrapped herself around Marceline from behind, playing at the hem of her shirt playfully. The shirt was cheap and rough on her fingertips. Her skin was more kind. Much softer. Lovelier.

"You're frisky today, aren't you?"

"As if you weren't expecting to come home and seduce me." Bonnibel's hands resumed their exploration, venturing underneath Marceline's clothing.

Marceline turned around to face her properly. "Is this your way of saying you want to have sex?" She teased, tracing the pad of her thumb over Bonnibel's soft, plump lips, even as she pouted.

"If I have to spell it out for you, then yes."

A heartier, breathy laugh came from within. Her smile even showed in her eyes as she stared down at the smaller girl. "Horny Bonnibel is something entirely different."

"Ugh," The pinkette grumbled. "Just come here already."

Marceline raised an eyebrow, standing firm and giving a devilish smirk. "Make me, Bennette." Bonnie could hardly contain her stomach from doing front flips. Or falling for Marceline's alluring voice. Or how a tingly sensation trailed after each kiss.


Monday, May 7th

Bonnibel was well aware that it was important to take her cast off for a variety of medical reasons, but waking up at 6am in preparation for a 7 o'clock appointment was more than tiring. Tiring enough that she contemplated showing up late. After all, it wasn't like they could refuse her. Keeping a cast on for longer than needed could cause more issues than it would solve.

She would have to begin the struggle of physical therapy, considering her muscle atrophied.

Yet Marceline was the one grumpily complaining about getting up.

She shook her girlfriend's shoulder harder, ignoring the fluttering in her chest at the sight of her tanned bare skin, covered only by the thin summer comforter.

"Fuck, Bon." She grumbled, clenching her fists around the sheets and moving her face away from the light coming through the bedroom window. "You keep me up all night and then won't even let me sleep in? You're so mean to me."

"I can't drive. You have to take me to my appointment."

"You can't uber?"

"I need the emotional support." She whined.

"Bring Timmy?" A heavy pillow collided with the side of her head not two seconds later. "Okay, okay!" She angrily waved her hands and sat up, revealing herself and bringing a tinge of pink onto Bonnie's cheeks.

"You really are breathtaking, Marceline."

"Says you." Marceline eyes were beyond dilated. Then came her smirk. "Your ass is the best in the business."

"Don't ruin the moment."

"I'd hardly say I'm ruining it. I'm complimenting you."

"You're ogling at me, you...you perv!"

"Oh, I'm ogling at you?"

"You're not allowed to look at me anymore." Bonnie proclaimed, gathering the sheets and comforter in her hands and covering herself. "Not with your pervy little eyes."

"Stop being dramatic, asshole."

"You're undressing me with your eyes. So indecent." She playfully continued.

"There's nothing to undress. We had sex."

"And I'd happily oblige to more of it when you rescind your 'best ass in the business' comment." Bonnie booped Marceline's nose.

"But you do, and I'd be lying if I took it back."

"I guess we're at an impasse."

Marceline giggled to herself, mumbling the word Imp-ass under her breath.

"You're such a child."

"Then it's you who is the pervert." Bonnie could only roll her eyes at her comment. "Go take a shower so we can go."

"If you walk in on me I'm calling the cops."

It was Marceline who threw the pillow, leaving Bonnie to giggle to herself as she jogged to the bathroom.


Monday, May 14th

Bonnie felt odd wriggling her wrist around. It was stiff and it still hurt when she pushed herself too much, but it was freeing. The heaviness of the cast could no longer weigh her down, though it would still be a while until she could use it as normal. She could hardly hold a cup of coffee for more than a few seconds before it felt weak and tired.

Making breakfast practically one-handed was a task all on its own.

Her cereal was poured in the beautifully simple blue ceramic bowl. The spoon already placed and ready for use. -and no don't look at the floor. There may or may not be spilled flakes scatters across the kitchen tile. All that was left was the milky goodness that would complete the (controversially) nutritionally incomplete meal.

Reaching into the cool fridge, Bonnie picked up the, more than surprisingly light, carton of milk. Disappointment and frustration filled every ounce of her body. "I swear to Christ, Marceline..." She muttered under her breath at the realization that her girlfriend had kept yet another carton of empty milk in the fridge.

She opened the fridge back up, and of course, there was no other cartons or a suitable substitute.

"What did I do now?" The pinkette heard from behind her.

Marceline drug her feet on the carpet as she made her way to the kitchen. Her feet weren't the only things dragging on the carpet. An oversized throw blanket was draped around her shoulders and covered her body and clothes, or lack of them.

Bonnie picked up the carton of milk in her good hand and shook it lightly, indicating the lack of milk. Then wordlessly gestured at her already made bowl of cereal waiting to be enjoyed.

"Ah," she yawned.

"Don't put empty containers back in the fridge."

"Interesting, Simon says the same thing at home." was her sarcastic comment.

"Then why do you keep doing it?" Bonnie unsuccessfully muffled her anger with pursed lips and a tight jaw clench.

Marceline only shot a deadpan expression her way as she began the process of pouring herself a cup of coffee from the pot Bonnie had made previously. The steam wafted into the air as she poured the black liquid into her favorite starwars mug.

"The placement of empty containers is not my first priority in the morning."

"Well if you woke up earlier, you'd be able to think through the logic in why we just throw those away." She griped, throwing the object in the trash. It clattered in the trash. The rocker rolled her eyes at the action.

"Can you save the tantrums and nagging until after I've had my coffee?"

"At least my tantrums and nagging will wake you up."

"Wrong. It'll make me grumpy and an asshole."

"You're already grumpy and an asshole."

"You can kiss my ass." Marceline growled before taking a careful sip of the black liquid in her mug. A low hum of contentment escaped her lips at the contact.

"Forget it. I'm going to work." Bonnie announced, storming off in the opposite direction toward the door to grab her shoes.

"It's Monday. You don't work today."

"Then I'm going out for coffee." Her jaw hurt from the way she was gritting her teeth.

Marceline sighed in defeat and placed her coffee on the kitchen counter. "You already brewed a pot. Don't waste it just because you're mad."

Bonnie didn't admit that Marceline was being the more logical one. And she was very aware of how prideful she was being. Pride and stubbornness were qualities they both possessed, after all.

She watched as the ebony beauty pulled a mug from the cupboard, poured a cup, and gestured for her to take it from her. Admitting defeat, the slightly shorter girl approached and took the warm mug from her hands. In the same action, Marceline pressed a kiss to her temple and gave a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to eat your cereal. After coffee, we can go to the store and I'll buy you all the milk and cereal you want."

Considering she didn't apologize for her actions, Bonnie opened her mouth to point it out to her, but Marceline stopped her before she could.

"And yes, I'll do better to throw away empty containers. Happy?"

"Mm," Bonnibel hummed as the young Abadeer placed a hand on her hip and planted another kiss in the same spot. She supposed that was as good of a truce as she could ask for. "For now."

"Greedy." She chuckled lowly, trailing the tip of her cold nose down Bonnibel's jaw.

"You smell like coffee."

"Wow, it's like I'm drinking it or something."

"Take me to get milk."

"Finish your coffee first, grumpy."


Unlike eateries and cafes, the local grocery store was not a distance that should be walked. At least not with the amount of snacks the two of them tended to buy. So Bonnibel allowed Marceline to drive the six minutes it took to get there.

Bonnibel was sure they must have looked odd pulling up in a hellcat and stepping out in rock t-shirts and PJ bottoms. Regardless of how the monochrome style looked on her usually pastel pallet, the pinkette refused to wear anything other than her girlfriend's clothing religiously-at least at night.

Bonnibel grabbed at a box on the shelf and glanced it over, scanning every detail on the nutrients label. After making a sour face, she put the item back in its place. "We also need to grab some cat food and a new toy for Timmy while we're here."

"No more catnip. He rips everything up when you give it to him."

"Oh, come on. You know it's funny." Bonnie giggled, playfully bumping her girlfriend's shoulder with her own.

"He knocked over my bass!"

"It's fine. It's just a scratch you big baby."

Marceline pouted. "You were lucky I was able to buff it out."

"Don't act like you don't love him."

"Mm. I love that you love him. I'd prefer a dog though."

"Dogs are way more energetic. They would trip apart all of your instruments. Better yet, they would defecate everywhere."

"Thus why we don't have a dog." Marceline wrapped an arm around Bonnibel's shoulders, making a way to kiss her temple. "And don't even think about looking at adoption sights."

"Aw, there goes my afternoon plans."

Bonnie handed the rocker a gallon of 2% milk she had pulled from the rows of cartons available. Honestly, she couldn't tell you the difference between the brands-if there was a difference at all. Bonnie bit the inside of her cheek.

Sounds like an experiment is in order.

"Hey brainiac," Marceline interrupted her train of thought. "Can we get pop tarts?"

"Only if its brown sugar cinnamon."

The disgusted look on her face told Bonnie she was more than displeased with the suggestion. "You're the worst kind of person. You're supposed to grab the box with the most sugar or the weirdest flavor." Marceline reached over and grabbed the most obvious box. "Like orange soda? Are you not the least bit curious as to how nasty that must taste?"

"That's way worse than brown sugar cinnamon. You'd only eat one, if that. But I suppose everyone is subject to their own opinion."

Marceline ignored her point and went on with her sarcastic rant. "What next? You're gonna tell me the middle ground is strawberry with no icing?"

The pinkette rolled her eyes in the most dramatic way she could muster and threw her arms over her chest. "I'm not that unreasonable."

Months of playful bickering led to Bonnibel knowing the exact insults Marceline would use against her. For the most part, at least. Sometimes she could surprise her with her with her creativity.

"You dip toast in coffee!" She practically yelled, earning a look from another customer in the same aisle.

"Cool it. With how much creamer is in it, it's practically not coffee anymore."

"It's still inexcusable."

"You haven't even tried it."

"Because it's an abomination and probably a sin." Marceline huffed. "Honestly, have you even thought through your actions? What if you opened up one of the seven seals?"

"You're so dramatic. It's basically sugar and bread, not the trigger for the rapture. It's essentially poptarts with no icing...or filling."

"You make me sick. You really were going to suggest no icing as the middle ground, you monster."

"You're so fucking annoying." Immediately realizing what she said, Bonnibel covered her mouth with her hand in shock.

"Oh?" Marceline began. "Did Bonnibel Bennett just do a cuss?"

"I didn't mean to!" She put her hands up defensively. "Ugh, you're such a bad influence." Bonnie pushed her. "Get your damn poptarts so we can leave."

"Another cuss!" Marceline exclaimed. "My my, I guess Bonnibel is less prude than I originally thought. She really will open up the seals."

"Shut your mouth." Bonnibel scanned the milk and box of disgustingly bright orange poptarts in the self checkout lane, jamming her card in the reader. "It's your fault for making me skip out on breakfast."

"I'm making up for it now."

"Yet I'm the one buying it?"

The card reader beeped, indicating it was does processing the transaction. Bonnie took the receipt, turned on her heels, and walked the other way.

"You paid for it before I could even take my wallet out." She called after her, grabbing the back of groceries she had left behind. "Should I feed you a poptart on the way back?"

"I don't want your poptart." She had to make a sudden stop, as she almost ran into someone. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"It's quite alright. Oh, hello Marceline." Something about the man made Marceline stop in her tracks, standing a few feel back from Bonnibel.

Bonnie could infer she wasn't the happiest about bumping into this particular stranger. It wasn't the same reaction she had to Ash either, so she assumed he wasn't particularly dangerous.

A tall man in an expensive suit loomed over the couple. Now, Bonnibel wasn't an expert on clothing, but the suit he wore was obviously tailored, his button-up was made of some sort of silky fabric and the pattern on his tie was beautifully decorated. By her estimates, he had to have been at least 6' 3", if not taller. His jet black hair was slicked back into an almost mob-like fashion. His stern expression made him look even more mob-like.

Bonnie didn't think she had seen a look quite like what Marceline was wearing. Whatever it was, she was not pleased.

"Ah, pardon my manners, dear. I'm Hunson Abadeer." He stuck a hand out for Bonnibel to shake. Hunson Abadeer, as in that Hunson Abadeer?

She gladly accepted the friendly gesture. "Bonnibel." She tried to disregard how cold his touch was. How lifeless his eyes felt even at a mere gaze.

"Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Bonnibel."

"What are you doing here?" Marceline voice was deep, seething with some cross between anger and embarrassment.

"It's customary to bring flowers when visiting someone, yes?" He quirked his head quizzically to the side. "This wasn't my first choice. There's quite a serious lack of flower stands in the area."

"And who exactly were you visiting here?"

"Why you, dear." He stated simply. "I know I have come unannounced, but Simon informed me you had the day off."

"It's also customary to give a heads up. What if I wasn't home?"

"Was I intruding on something?"

It seemed Marceline's words were caught in her throat. The two didn't have plans for the day, made painfully obvious by their lack of socially acceptable attire. "N-no...we were heading home. Still..."

"Perfect timing then. Let's head there, shall we? I have a few things to discuss with you and your brother."

Hands clenched, jaw tight, unable to speak. Bonnie could see all of that. Was Hunson that oblivious to her anger? Or did he choose to ignore it?

Regardless, the obviously uncomfortable Marceline was unable to speak up to his rudely demanding intrusion. Only one idea came to mind.

"I'm sorry, Hunson." Bonnibel stopped him. "We weren't expecting guests today. I would be so embarrassed if you saw what kind of state our house is in. We finished finals week not long ago and still haven't had the chance to clean. I don't know how she put's up with a slob like me." Bonnie looped her arm with Marceline's. From how tense she was, she assumed the physical contact may deescalate her emotions. "Would you allow us time to clean up and prepare for you?"

"Ah, how rude of me to invite myself over." She still couldn't tell how genuine his emotions were, or if he was playing some ruse. "Why don't we go out for lunch? That way I can invite Marshal and speak with you all at once. Would meeting in an hour suffice?"

This time Bonnie let Marceline reply. "Yeah. That's fine."

"I'll pick you up in an hour then. Oh, and dress to the nines. I would like to take you somewhere nice."

Her eyes glued on the floor, she replied with a terse, "Yessir."


After an hour of listening to Marceline's angry rants, Bonnibel had finished dressing herself-and adjusted Marceline's attire as well. Hunson picked them up and took them to a massive casino. Quite the odd place to take someone for lunch, if you asked Bonnie.

However, after a long elevator ride to the top floor, they were greeted with clear glass wall, allowing a full view of the cityscape. Low orange-tinted lighting illuminating from a beautifully orient glass chandelier and other small ornate lights that hung throughout the open layout of the restaurant.

She imagined it must have been a stunning sight in the later evening. Personally, it felt suffocating to see this amount of money thrown around just for a meal.

She was accompanied by a dashing Marceline who looked all too dapper in a maroon suit and black button up, finished with a matching yet decorative maroon tie. And though she wished they could match, Bonnie was pleased to wear the simple deep blue dress that fit snuggly around her waist. A thin strand of hair was braided while the rest cascaded off her left shoulder, exposing her neck and accessories.

"Remind me to make you play dress up more often." Bonnibel commented, looking over Marceline once more.

"I know its hard, but try not to drool too much when you look my way."

"Regardless of how cocky you're being, I think you look stunning."

"As do you, Princess."

They were met with a familiar smile. "Long time no see." Garrison greeted. He hugged the couple and Marshal drug himself through the door, hands deep in his slack pockets. Unlike Garrison, he wasn't wearing a suit jacket. Marshal instead opted for a black vest over his white long sleeve button down.

Garrison looked as if he belonged in his deep navy blue suit. He looked cultivated, groomed for the position of a CEO. COO? One of those.

"Aw, you're matching." Marshal pointed out, gesturing between Garrison and Bonnibel. "Adorable." Marshal chuckled to himself.

Hunson, who was waiting patiently for his other child, gave a calm smile. "Oh good, you made it." He walked passed the four of them up to the host at his stand. "Abadeer."

He hadn't bothered to greet his own son, or his partner.

After a quick check, the host asked, "For 5, correct?" Hunson nodded, adjusting his tie.

So Simon wasn't attending.

"Right this way," He smiled.

The table given was seated by the window which overlooked the town. With a thirty minute drive, she didn't expect to see the campus, but was surprised at how small everything looked from up there.

"Are you sure it's okay for your partner to be present while we talk out the logistics of finances and such?" Hunson started as soon as the group sat in their respective seats. The question was more directed at Marceline than Marshal.

"Yes, I'd actually prefer her to stay."

Marshal also agreed with an, "O'course."

Hunson nodded and was about to begin when he was interrupted by the wait staff for our drinks. Red wine was agreed upon.

"Now...where to start...ah, yes." He bent forward, forearms on his knees. "After many failed attempts for you and Marshal to take over my company, I was given financial advice from Simon. I thought it over for a while. It has been a month since, but I have sold my shares entirely to my business partner. I'm taking an early retirement."

"Oh, well congratulations, dad."

Bonnie tried not to point out how childish of a play that was. That because he didn't get what he wanted, he quit.

"Thank you. Over this last time of seeing you both I have reflected on your words and agree that you are most suited to pursue music...as well as a relationship with miss Bonnibel. I want to make it clear that I support your endeavors fully and only wish for your happiness."

Bonnie placed a loving hand on her girlfriend's knee. "I appreciate it."

"The same goes for you, Marshal. Garrison was a wise choice as a partner and I hope it continues to flourish. And though I can't say I know your exact plans for the future, I want you to freely choose your own path, not the one I provide you. That being said, I stand by the previous agreements of the trust fund. I would hate for money to stray you from continuing ahead with your degrees."

"I understand."

"And Bonnibel." Marceline's grip on her hand tightened. "I know this was truly none of my concern, but I'm curious as if you have discussed the possibility of marriage in the upcoming year?"

What?

Marshal had to stop himself at a spit take, quickly falling into a loud fit of laughter. Even Garrison couldn't hide a his smile under a carefully placed hand.

A very noticeable shade of red-painted itself on the tips of Marceline's ears, cheeks, and part of her neck. "Do you really think that's appropriate for you to ask?" Marceline sipped at her wine to quell her embarrassment, and to dissociate herself with inebriation.

"I'm only asking out of curiosity, Marceline. You would never tell me outright if you were planning on becoming engaged. It would most likely be from Simon."

"Don't make things uncomfortable by saying things like that." Her anger was starting to rise. "Bonnie and I have only been dating a handful of months."

"Is it really so wrong for me to ask about your relationship?"

"Not like that."

"Fine then, Bonnibel-"

"Okay, okay. I get your point. I'll open up more about it if and when the time comes, okay?"

It was scary how similar his smirk was to the Abadeer twins. Teasingly confident. "I look forward to the invitation then."

"Hold up-"

"And Marshal," He ignored Marceline's further objections and turned toward his son, who was obviously not ready for what was to come next. Seemed he was already regretting his previous laughter. "Same for you. Have you thought about marriage?"

"Too early to ask, old man." He flung a care-free hand into the air.

Hunson held out a wide hand up. "Childhood friends," He place a finger up. "Roommates for years." Another finger went up, counting to make his point clear. "And are you not joining him in Florida in the upcoming weeks instead of traveling abroad?"

"Er-Well yeah, but-you know," Bonnie couldn't recall ever seeing his flustered like this. "I really don't think its okay for you to push marriage on us so soon, especially if we haven't had these kinds of uh...conversations with our partners in the first place."

Hunson's smirk quirked downward into a frustrated frown. His eyes returned to it's previously stagnant state. "Very well. I suppose my early retirement gave me too much time to think on the matter." He sat back and sighed, turning back to Marceline. "Simon told me you were working, Marceline. Are you low on funds?"

Really? Bonnibel thought. No wonder their relationship is so strained. If he kept asking questions like this, Marceline would be sure to repeat their previous interactions. She wouldn't hesitate to leave in a fit of anger, possibly make a scene just in spite. To embarrass him.

"No, I thought it would be good to have some job experience."

"She's always been terrible at covering up lies." He directed toward Bonnibel.

Erked. Tense. Frustrated. Did he find some sort of sadistic pleasure from point out her flaws? If so, he deserved whatever was to come next.

"It's not a lie!"

"She didn't want to tell Bonnie she was a trust fund baby." inputted Marshal, earning him a well-deserved elbow to the rib by Garrison. He was also gifted with a swift kick to the shin by Bonnibel under the table.

He muted his help with his hand.

"I'm sorry for her lack of trust. I'm sure that's partially my fault for my poor parenting."

No kidding. The way he spoke made it look as if he were proud of that fact. That he didn't regret his poor parenting.

"I wouldn't have agreed to dinner if it meant being badgered by ridiculous questions and ridiculed for my life choice, or lack thereof." She grumbled, sinking further into her seat.

"You have such terrible manners. Sit up straight." He demanded.

She attempted to maintain her anger at a bubbling simmer, keeping her voice low-as not to attract any unwanted attention from the other patrons. "Can you lay off for five minutes?" This was her well put warning.

"Can you adhere to the social rules of a high-class establishment?"

"I didn't ask to come here." She shot a glare his way.

Bonnibel thought Marceline's glare was brutal. To put it into perspective, Marceline's glare felt as if it solidified and stabbed into your gut, twisting and turning. Hunson's glare felt as if he were ripping every atom in your body apart. It was painful. Terrifying, actually.

"Why did you agree if you didn't want to come?"

"You're kidding, right? I was practically forced." His intrusion and lack of respect for her space or time was horrifying. He really hadn't given her another option. "I'm sure you pulled the same crap on Marshal."

Garrison leveled a hand out on the table to grab the attention of those sitting there. He wore an unsure, yet kind smile. His worries eyes gave away his thoughts. His intention was to avoid any further ill will. More importantly, he wanted Marshal to leave without a mark in this dispute. "Come on now. Let's not fight. At the very least, let's enjoy each other's company and have a good meal."

"I'm not sure what I expected." Hunson sighed, taking his glass of wine and swirling it. "We always end up arguing."

"Well maybe if-"

"Hey," This earned all the eyes at the table on her. Perhaps she had kept quiet for far too long. Bonnie leaned over, laying her head on her girlfriend's shoulder. She twirled a finger through her girlfriend's dark silky hair. The red on Marceline's cheeks only brightened more at her affection. "Should we go home?" She asked outright. The surprise on Hunson's face was more than appealing to witness. "As nice as dinner would be, we could always pick something up on our way home." She felt her face scrunched as she met eye contact with the eldest of the Abadeers. "I expected better emotional intelligence from someone who's attempting to rekindle a relationship with his children."

He gulped. It was odd seeing the stern man intimidated at a comment like that. It seemed she hit the nail on the head.

"I'm glad you approve of our relationship and that you're not giving Marceline any more trouble over her career field, but I think this meeting was premature." Bonnibel stood from her chair, yanked at Marceline arm to follow her. "She's infinitely more responsible and resourceful than you give her credit for. She deserves more respect than what you're giving her."

"Bon, I-"

"Congratulations on the early retirement, Mr. Abadeer. Please call ahead next time so we can accommodate you properly." Looping her hand on Marceline's forearm, she pulled them toward the entrance, refusing to look behind her. She didn't want to imagine the look on their faces, much less think on the possible damage she may have caused.

The elevator door closed and all she could feel was the pulsating sway of her heart racing in her chest.

Oh God, was that the right thing to do? She slide down the elevator wall to a crouch, wrapping her arms over her knees in comfort.

She glanced up at Marceline for confirmation. An answer was required of her. Did she crack or shatter the fragile relationship they already had previously? Did she overstep? Did Marceline even want to leave?

Much to her delight, she was greeted with a brilliantly warm smile and dilated pupils. "I think I might be in love with you." She laughed, crouching down next to her girlfriend to cup the pinkette's face within her calloused hands. "You're so so amazing."

For once, Bonnibel was at a loss of words. The light dancing in Marceline's eyes were beautiful and vastly more illuminating than those in the restaurant. Prettier than the cityscape.

"He may be right on the marrying you bit." Now she could practically feel the blood rushing to her cheeks, the warmth. Could she feel it under her fingertips? "After that, I have to, right?"

So she made the right choice after all.

"Are you proposing?" Bonnibel teased.

This earned an eye roll. "Give me a little credit. I wouldn't propose in an elevator."

"Is this us talking about the possibility then?"

"I think so?"

Exhaling a long breath outward, Marceline finally kissed her partner. "When we get married, we'll have to elope. It'll be a nightmare otherwise."

"Unfortunately, we have Lady to worry about. She'd take it as a personal offense if she didn't oversee and plan every bit of a ceremony."

"Or we just pay her off?"

Bonnie lightly tapped her arm, hard enough to get the point across, but not enough to sting. "Marceline, we can't pay off our friends. That's morally wrong."

"Debatable."

The two suddenly burst into laughter. The kind of laughter that made your shoulders shake and breathing hard. The kind of laughter that rejuvenated the heart. "I love you."

"I love you more."


Review Time!

MarCor: Thanks for taking the time to comment on each chapter, even with months between each upload. :)