This is as close as you'll ever get. :P But, gotta practice, right?

As Good As Something Gets

Something about the wall at her back, the way she pressed into it. Something about the hands on her hips, fingers turning to claws in her belt loops, fiddling with the zipper of her jeans. Something about the taste of strawberries in her mouth when she knew she hadn't had anything of the sort lately. Something about the feel of her top button coming loose.

Something about the name on her lips that her brain wasn't functioning well enough to spit out. So instead of coherent sounds, all she gave was a sigh. And maybe a moan too, but it was hard to tell. Everything was hard to tell when Marceline's fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt, grazed her ribs, when her tongue drew strange shapes on the roof of her mouth, when her leg did… that. God.

There was something about the way Marceline's eyes were nearly black instead of nearly blue when she pulled away momentarily. Something that took a while to register. Something made her panic.

"Stop," she gasped, regaining enough awareness to push pathetically at Marceline's hands. "Wait."

Instantly, Marceline's hands vanished and she was a decent stride across the room, eyes wide with… with fear. "No good?" she tried to quip. But her voice was raspy, raw from inhaling Bonnie's perfume, from the taste of apples in her lip gloss. It gave her away.

And it made the warble in her tone tremble through Bonnie, too. "Too good," she whispered, correcting the assumption. "What are we doing?"

Hesitantly, Marceline shuffled a half-step closer; hands fidgeting, unsure of what to do. She tried a smile. It was transparent. "Seemed self-explanatory to me," she muttered.

Bonnie's hands kneaded the air at her sides, desperately wanting to reach for Marceline again. Why there was any amount of confliction at all in her mind, she wasn't sure. But it was there, a niggling doubt, worry. Her own spiralling fear.

"If you want me to go…" Marceline murmured, shrugging in the general direction of the door. "I can go. I can not come back… If that's what you want?"

Is it? Do you want her to walk away?

"No," she exhaled. "Stay. I just…"

Marceline took the offer and assumed it meant contact was allowed. She lifted one hand to Bonnie's face. "Hey. What's eating you up, huh?"

"I don't…" The look on Marceline's face told her that wouldn't be believed. "It feels wrong."

"Why?"

Why? The question reverberated through her skull, bouncing off the walls. In its wake, an answer followed, taunting her; just out of reach. Why? Because it's… it's…

"It's not enough," she finished aloud. Warily, she met Marceline's gaze. "I can't be okay with this. It's too nebulous… too undefined, for me."

This time, when she smiled, it arched a little higher, blurring softly around the edges. Marceline rested her forehead against Bonnie's. "I thought you didn't want commitment with me. That I'm too 'flighty'."

"I didn't say that," Bonnie replied, unable to stop staring at Marceline's mouth. Her fingers tentatively tracing the line, the curve at the corners, drifting across her cheek. A smile of her own flickered when Marceline's eyes fluttered shut. "I was alright with temporary when it was impersonal, when it was just hand holding and–"

"And making out with me behind your dad's shed," she added blithely.

Bonnie could feel the red in her cheeks but she forced it back down. "I'm not okay with that anymore." Her voice sounded small even to her ears as her hands wound into Marceline's button down, drawing her closer. "I need more than that."

Before she'd even realised, Marceline had her up against the wall of her room again. "How much more," she enquired, voice husky at her ear, tickling.

"All of you."

Marceline kissed her gently before she could say more, but that didn't stop the thoughts whirling through her head. Those thoughts vaporised when Marceline finally managed to unbuckle her belt though, knee right back where it had been before. Thinking was too hard. Way too hard.

Her skin burned even as cool night air swept underneath her shirt, the article whisked across her room, Marceline's fingers leaving trails of light across her ribs, her stomach. Somehow, with her hands in Marceline's hair, wrapped tight around her neck, a single thought burst to life.

"Girlfriend," she panted when Marceline's mouth found her throat.

"Hm?"

"Be my girlfriend."

Marceline's eyes flashed with mischief. "You sure?"

"Absolutely."

The smile on Marceline's face was blinding, confusingly, her pupils were so dilated that Bonnie had to acknowledge (even through the haze filling her head) that it had absolutely nothing to do with the amount of light in the room.

Marceline's shirt flashed next, landing on the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

But they weren't using their eyes anymore anyway.

This was about the feeling.

This was about as good as something gets.