Author Note: I have never written for this ship before and I know nothing about bass guitar except for a picture I found with the parts labeled. Here we go.
It isn't until Marceline is safely home, with the motorcycle stowed away, that she again remembers her lost axe bass. She's hovering in the kitchen while Bonnie washes the dishes, drying them in turn and stacking them on the shelves. It's a routine, calming and familiar.
A string of lyrics comes to her, about the tinkling noise each dish makes as she places it, and she wants to sing it. She wants to pluck the strings of her bass to make the beat and hopefully bring a smile to the face of her bubblegum pink girlfriend. Then she remembers.
Marceline remembers what happened to her axe bass. She has other instruments, of course, but to not have a bass in the house still feels strange. She both accepts the loss and mourns it.
Once the dishes are all dry, she brings the topic up with Bonnie.
Her girlfriend, her scientifically precise wonderful girlfriend, suggests that they build a replacement. It will take a while, but they can find the parts and build something new, build something together.
Marceline loves the idea so much, she kisses her.
They collect parts over the next few weeks. Some of the wood comes from an ancient tree in the forest. An old blacksmith helps with the metal pieces. They even take a trip to a guitar store, just for the strings. It all has to be just right.
Once they have all the pieces, they sit down together to build it.
Each part reminds Marceline of their relationship, of the life they're constructing together.
The first part is the body. It's the center of the bass, the core. It holds the whole instrument together.
It reminds Marceline of the house she and Bonnie share. For the longest time she had lived there alone, and for all that time it had just been a place to hover while she rested. She had many other places that she lived.
Now, oh how things change. This isn't just a house, it's her home. This is where Bonnie is, where they stay together. This house is their foundation, their base of operations.
Bonnie brings so much energy to the house. With her pictures on the walls, her chairs at the kitchen table and on the porch, and her lab materials upstairs, she breathes life into their home.
Her presence, no, their presence together, fills the building with meaning. It connects them together, holds them inside.
The body of the bass does the same.
Next they put on the bridge. It will anchor the strings, hold them in place.
The same way Bonnie anchors her, every night and every morning.
When Marceline climbs into bed every night and looks to her side, Bonnie's there. Sometimes they hold hands under the blankets, an anchor even in sleep. Marceline sleeps well by her side.
In the morning, when Marceline opens her eyes against the dreary morning sun, Bonnie is there. Every morning, without a doubt. Sometimes, but not often, Marceline wakes up first. She watches her sleep when that happens, the way her pretty pink face relaxes in slumber.
Marceline kisses her gently on the forehead, lightly as not to disturb her, and lies back down.
Like the bridge, Bonnie anchors her.
Pickups are added next, placed onto the body of the bass. They hold the strings up in just the right spot.
Marceline tries to do the same for Bonnie. To raise her up, to help her be the best she can be.
She supports her with her science. Marceline helps track down materials and holds beakers, all to aid in her quest for knowledge. She even lets Bonnie experiment on her, with often mixed results.
Bonnie lifts her too. She listens to Marceline's music and brings new styles to it. She sings along, filling Marceline with warmth.
They lift each other, like the pickups hold up the strings.
A strap post is added to the body, to sling a strap on and hold the bass close.
When Bonnie's arms are around her, Marceline doesn't want her to let go. She feels safe and warm in her embrace.
Nothing can hurt her there, no nightmares or memories can intrude.
When Marceline returns the hug, that's even better. She still remembers when she thought she lost Bonnie, remembers flying desperately across the field to embrace her. Marceline will do whatever it takes to protect her.
She holds her close, like the guitar strap does for a bass.
The neck and fingerboard are added together. The two long strips of wood and metal are a perfect match, aligned and glued side by side.
Though their bed is queen sized, the two of them fit quite well on just one side. Their bodies fit perfectly together as they cuddle.
Marceline is the big spoon this time, with Bonnie's back flush against her. She lays an arm over her waist to pull her closer, earning a content sigh from her partner. She hears a softly muttered declaration of love.
As Marceline softly kisses the side of her neck, Bonnie seems to melt into her.
They fit together like the neck and fingerboard.
The frets are added one by one in exactly the right spots. If the frets are wrong, then every note will be out of tune.
When either of them is upset, when they refuse to share, their relationship is the same way. Out of key and out of tune, they argue.
They work on it together. Marceline tries to share more, both through songs and words. She tells herself to stop bottling things up and knows that Bonnie will understand when she shares. She'll accept her for who she is.
Bonnie works on it as well, in her own way. She makes clear schedules with limited lab time and says if something will change. When bad things happen, she talks about it. Marceline listens.
They are always working towards it, having their frets in the right positions.
At the top of the bass is the headstock. It holds the bass together, unifies it as whole.
All of the things they do, around the house and outside of it, bring them together.
Playing board games, going on adventures, helping save the glass kingdom, and so much more. Their bond only grows and strengthens.
Long, languid kissing sessions on the couch bring them even closer. Marceline cherishes every movement, every flush of pink cheeks.
They belong together. They complete each other.
The headstock completes the bass in the same way.
On the headstock, tuning keys are added. They'll adjust the pitch of the strings, which will go on last.
For Marceline, she's always fine tuning her words. She has so much she should say, but how to say it has always alluded her. Keeping her feelings inside used to be easier.
Now though, with Bonnie, she can find the words. She wants to find the words. She shares things about herself that she never thought she would.
She shares things she never wanted to admit even to herself.
This tuning is essential to her, and to the bass.
The last piece of the bass is the strings. Marceline does this part herself. She slowly adds each of the four and tightens them, tuning them to exactly the right pitch.
Every note played is a message.
It's the words, "I love you," played over and over again.
Every minute of every day for the rest of her life, Marceline will love Bonnie. She'll tell her, through her songs and through her words, how much she does. How she'll cherish her, hold her close, and love her.
When Bonnie says those words back, it's music to her ears.
They carve their initials on the body, a reminder of what they achieved together.
Marceline plays her first song on the new bass.
It's a love song.