Apologies to Muslim readers if I have misunderstood the concept of dhanb, I did a lot of research for this chapter and I hope I haven't offended anyone but please correct me if I've described it wrong. Fair warning, there's a Cinnamon Bun cameo in this chapter too. Because I love him too much not to include him.

Also Realism Time, while the Fox and Hounds doesn't exist on Bethnal Green anymore there is a genetics research unit on the back of the Royal London Hospital and undergrads can get solo lab time for extra credit projects. I don't live in London anymore but I know it well. The experiment Bonnie is doing in this chapter is a genuine proof of method experiment that I have done when I was studying genetics before Life Events happened and destroyed my (admittedly feeble) university career. So the genetic science in this fic is genuine, to the best of my knowledge. Science is amazing.

Content Warning: mild homophobia and sex metaphors, scientific language, medical emergencies of that kind that might be triggering if something similar has happened to a loved one.

"Marcy? Who was that girl you were talking to?"

"Which girl?"

"At the show tonight. That ginger girl in the flannel shirt and the pink hat. I did not get chance to come over and introduce myself because Bongo needed help to load the drum kit but you were laughing with her a lot. I thought I had met all of your friends. Who was she?"

Well playing dumb clearly hadn't worked. Marceline tried to stall for time, casting around to think of a diversion. But Mo was still gazing at her intently with ever so slightly narrowed eyes as they strolled along the dark streets together on their way home. She sighed and considered how much to tell him, how to even articulate a lot of stuff that was still just a vague nebulous feeling for her. She hadn't even tried to put it into words for herself yet. It was difficult to describe it for Mo when she wasn't completely certain how she felt so far.

"Her name's Bonnie and I met her at the V&A the week before last. We're... I guess we're hanging out together. Perhaps we're friends. We went to dinner through the week and it's been really nice to get to know her, she's really intelligent and kinda shy. It's fun to hang out with someone who isn't a punk for once and talk about different stuff, you know? The taller blonde dude who was with her is called Jake and he's the guy who designed my favourite red boots. Kinda cool that we bumped into each other by chance like that." Marcy replied, eyes straight ahead and definitely not watching the lingering jealousy on her younger friend's face. So Mo was still crushing on her a little and that was an awkward discovery. She didn't quite know how to act if he was going to make things weird.

"Oh. Ok I guess. It makes sense that you would want to meet new people now that you have more time. Wait, that guy designs shoes? So ew, he is a gay? But he looks so normal." Mo said, wrinkling his nose a little. Marceline tried hard to hope it wasn't an opinion he held too deeply. She wasn't about to just sit back and let him be homophobic about people she wanted to get to know better.

"Nope, that Korean girl they were there with is his girlfriend. Jake's straight, he just... he likes designing shoes. Said it was the best way to meet women, he's about as straight as they come."

Leave it leave it leave it lea-

"And what would it matter if he was gay anyway?" she asked him in a loud rush, against her better judgement.

You're an idiot, Petrikova. Why couldn't you just leave it?

Mo didn't say anything for a while, just kept walking and staring at the traffic rumbling past with a thoughtful frown on his face.

"I dunno. I suppose it doesn't, not really. Not like… I do not mean it like, religiously or anything. That stuff matters to my Dad but I do not know if I really believe it too much. I mean, being a homosexual is dhanb, like a really bad sin, but so is so much other stuff. Like, literally you cannot even exist for a second without fault if you are going to follow the letter of everything in the Qua'ran. But gays are just a bit gross, aren't they?"

"No, I don't think they are. It's just love. And it might be different to how you love but it isn't any less real or special for the people who feel it, to them it's just... love." she replied carefully, trying to keep the heat out of her voice.

"My Dad says what homosexuals do to each other is sick." Mo added with a casual shrug, like that was the end of the matter.

"Dads can be wrong about stuff." she replied with a sour frown, rubbing the side of her neck uncomfortably. "Just because a man can get someone pregnant doesn't mean he's suddenly got any magical insight into what's right and what's wrong, trust me on that. It's just your Dad's opinion and opinions can be wrong."

Mo frowned but he nodded, she was glad that had made sense to him. His father was an old fashioned man and he didn't really approve of Mo hanging out with Marceline so much. But Mo's mother was a force to be reckoned with when she supported someone and she was deeply grateful to Marceline for helping Mo do well at school and settle into their new neighbourhood when they moved in. She didn't care one bit that Marcy was mixed race, covered in tattoos or kept some eccentric and reclusive habits. It was good to feel so accepted. Marcy often thought that Mrs al-Ahmad and her own Mum would have gotten on really well if they'd met; they were both deeply nurturing and caring and the older woman had a comfortingly motherly air about her.

Mo's voice brought her wandering thoughts back to the present with a jolt.

"Marcy..." -oh that tone was trying far too hard to be casual, crap. She was certain he was about to ask her something really uncomfortable- "...have you ever um… done… you know?"

"No, I don't know. Look! The number forty three bus service is still running, and it's past eleven at night! It's supposed to finish at half ten, there must be a delay at the depot!" She stalled for time, knowing perfectly well what he was trying to ask but desperate to give him every opportunity to think better of it. It was a pretty crappy diversion but it was all she could think of on the spur of the moment.

"Yeah, that is weird. Anyway, um, I wanted to know if you had ever had-"

"OH AND LOOK SHASLIK'S IS OPEN LET'S GO GET SOME CHICKEN KEBABS!" she shouted over him. Hastily she pointed at the grubby takeaway on the corner of the main street and realised a fraction of a second too late that she was vegan and that was probably the stupidest distraction she could ha-

"Have you ever had sex with anyone?" Mo blurted out almost as loudly.

If the number forty three bus had been just a bit slower and still rolling past their section of the road Marceline would have gladly thrown herself underneath it. Anything to keep from having to answer that loaded question in the middle of a crowded street. The pavement was still thick with people moving from one bar to another or making their way home after the gig and a large group of students ahead of them had turned around to leer at her and grin. Marceline wished she could somehow turn invisible and avoid the sleazy way they were smirking at her. She tried ignoring Mo too but he just kept on watching her from the corner of his eye. His face was flushed with embarrassment but apparently he was determined to get an answer to his inappropriate question. Eventually she sighed and ran a frustrated hand through her hair, tugging at the roots a little in an unconscious gesture of annoyance.

"Why does it matter to you, Mo? Why would you ever think I'd want to talk about that with you? You're like a little brother to me. I don't want to discuss the existence or otherwise of my sex life with you; it's weird for me to talk about it with anyone. Especially you, because you're like family to me. Is that not ok?" she eventually replied, almost too quietly for him to hear over the traffic and general Saturday night background noise.

Mo scuffed his trainers along the pavement for a moment, hands shoved deeply into his pockets and a heavy blush staining his usual dark complexion an almost purple colour. He opened his mouth several times to reply but closed it without uttering a word.

"I was just curious." he muttered, eventually. "Cause you know tons about loads of stuff and you do not think gays are gross like most people. I just wondered because you used to have that weird boyfriend but you never talk about boys or about anyone really. And then that girl you were talking to tonight looked really queer in her hat and... I just wondered how you knew that the ways gay people have sex together aren't really gross."

"Mo, I was talking about love, the general concept. Not just sex. And you don't have to have experienced something to know it isn't gross, right? Like, you've never ridden a horse but you know there's nothing innately gross about it, just that it's not something you've ever done. Yeah? Maybe you can even see why someone else would enjoy it. Perhaps you just don't understand what the fuss is about horses, or you always secretly wanted to ride a horse but you never had the chance yet. Or horses make you feel weird in general and you'd rather not think about riding one. There are lots of possibilities; do you understand what I'm trying to say?" Marceline replied carefully.

"Then… have you ever ridden a horse?"

Well at least he'd followed her metaphor. She considered; trying to find a way to move the conversation on without giving him too much information.

"I've... horse riding isn't really something I've ever had time to think about much. I've always been too busy looking after my sick uncle, trying to get my life back to some kind of normal level after stuff went bad with my family when I was younger. Until Simon went to Whitehills I was too busy to even think about horses or riding or anything really. You understand what I'm saying?"

Mo nodded, finally quiet. So talking about her tragic childhood had shut him up about sex; at least she knew what worked now. She filed it away for future reference in case he decided to ask some more really uncomfortable personal questions in the future. She'd need a diversion that was better than the local bus service or which takeaway was open.

"So you have never, um, ridden a horse then?" Mo pushed after a minute. So much for her diversion. They were coming up to their apartment block and Marceline was longing to just shut the door and lock everyone out, lie down in her dark bedroom and enjoy just being alone and quiet.

"I- No, B-Mo. No horse riding. But I've often thought it might be nice, maybe, if I met the right... horse."

"But is the right horse a boy or a girl?"

"Probably one of those, yes."

"But which-"

"Goodnight, Baseem Mohammed." she told him firmly, propelling him towards his own front door and hurrying up the stairwell to her apartment.

...

i booked ramiros for 8 tonight so dont even think about staying late at the lab theyre trying a new recipe for vegan fajitas x x x

Thanks, that sounds great! See you at 8 xxx

It was lovely, in a really panicky weird way, that Marceline just booked things without needing to ask her if she was free or if she wanted to go to dinner or if they were dating or friends or… Anyway, it was nice that a pretty girl wanted to spend time with her and understood enough about her social anxiety to arrange it without adding the triggering complication of getting her opinion first. She was very used to being told she was the most indecisive person any of her friends had ever met. Bonnie smiled self-consciously as she slid her phone back into her pocket and grabbed a fresh pair of lab gloves. This time she'd even managed to accept an invitation to dinner without having to get Finn or Lydia to text back on her behalf.

She found she was humming happily to herself; that song with the French name that Marceline had sang in the pub at the weekend. It was catchy and really pretty, she didn't remember all the words but she knew it was something romantic about love songs and stuff. Despite still being very convinced the other girl was straight Bonnie found she couldn't completely stop herself from fantasizing about running her hands through Marcy's hair and kissing her softly every time she remembered that song.

"You're in a good mood today, Dr Sugar."

The voice from behind her made her jump; she hadn't realised Clive was there.

"Not a doctor, yet." she replied by habit. She smiled nervously at the big round faced man and repressed a fresh wave of panic that he might have noticed how she'd been staring dreamily down at her petri dish. Clive wheeled his cleaning cart to the front of the lab with a friendly smile and started loading the full sharps bins onto the bottom of the cart, replacing them with empty ones.

Clive Barton, or CB to his many friends, had been cleaning the university labs for as long as anyone could remember. He might not be the most intellectual member of staff but he was certainly one of the most cheerful and most genuine. CB had mild learning difficulties, he lived in sheltered housing with daily carers but he never let anything hold him back and he adored working for the university. He probably would have come in every day as a volunteer if they'd told him they couldn't pay him anymore. CB barely even realised that unpleasant people existed, he was always so happy that other people's moods just slid right off him like water from a duck's back. His was a world filled with genuine wonder and delight. He thought the genetics labs were borderline magical and anyone who wore a white coat was automatically a doctor. So long as he had a tune to whistle and a task to complete he was happy. Bonnie thought CB might be the happiest person she'd ever met. It always cheered her up when he visited her lab no matter how down she'd been feeling and she was genuinely fond of the big man.

"Whatcha working on today, doc?" he asked in a voice full of fascination. CB wandered up to her elbow and peered curiously into the petri dishes she was plating up with bacterial cultures, gazing down in amazement at them like they were the crown jewels.

"Still not a doctor, CB. And I'm growing some samples to see if any of the bacteria I modified have gotten the right gene insert. If they do then the colonies will grow green instead of white and I'll know I've successfully inserted the human insulin gene into a viable bacterial host along with the green protein marker gene. It's just a proof of method for another project but I wanted to try it out with a gene insert that we know works for this kind of bacteria before I try transfecting the cells with anything else. See here? I'm making streaks of the cell culture on this dish full of a special growth nutrient. Then I'll put it in the incubator to see what colour the colonies grow." Bonnie replied happily. CB wouldn't understand but it was just so nice that someone was asking about her work and he loved to hear all about it even if she may as well have been speaking Mandarin to him.

"So… they'll go green?" he asked in confusion. "Like a cabbage?"

"Sort of the same colour as cabbage, yes. But it'll be green for different reasons."

"Well doc, you know you can get purple cabbages too."

"Thanks Clive, I'll remember that."

He smiled widely to her, proud he'd been able to contribute, and wandered away whistling cheerfully. Bonnie hid a warm smile behind her hand, careful not to let her blue latex glove touch her face and risk wiping insulin transfected E. coli onto her skin. Just because it was a lab strain didn't mean she wanted to risk getting a nasty infection from it. She glanced up at the clock. It was almost five and she still had to get across town in the rush hour crush and get changed; she'd better clear up and head off soon.

By the time she was swinging the door of the building shut and shouldering her bag it was already past five thirty and Bonnie was starting to have her usual panic over the possibility of being late. Her anxiety ramped up an extra couple of notches when her phone began to buzz insistently in her pocket with an incoming call. Almost everyone in Bonnie's life knew not to call her, knew about her mild phobia of speaking on the phone. If there was something someone had to tell her that wasn't easy to put into a text message then it had almost always been bad news in her experience. Phone calls were automatically scary. Her heart thudded in double time when she saw the screen light up with Marceline's name, hastily fixed after Finn had put her number into her phone as 'Hot Rich Chick' that day in the library.

"Hello?" she asked nervously, answering the call with slightly shaky hands.

"Bonnie? Hey. Can we cancel for tonight? I've got a kinda... family emergency. My uncle's in hospital, they think he's had a h-heart attack and I- I- oh God I'm sorry, just- I- I-"

The line dissolved into distressed noises and repressed sobs. If there was one thing Bonnie knew about far too well it was how horrible an unexpected meltdown in public felt.

"Hey, it's ok, it's gonna be alright. Where are you?" she asked as calmly as she could manage.

"The R-Royal London Hospital." Marceline hiccoughed in reply.

"Wait there, I'm at the lab and it's literally five minutes around the corner."

"No, you don't have to... I c-can manage..."

Bonnie shook her head and then remembered the other girl couldn't see her.

"Wait at the main reception for me, I'll be like, five minutes at most." she repeated gently.

"I... yeah, ok. Thank you."

...

The main hospital waiting room was crowded and noisy and Marceline didn't see Bonnie until the other girl was almost on top of her, though in truth she hadn't really been looking for her. Too busy trying to hold back her tears and not give in to her anxious habit of biting the skin around her fingernails; she couldn't play bass if her fingers were sore and painful. She knew, distantly, that she was in shock and probably shouldn't be alone for a while. So it was a mix of crushing relief and an unexpected blossom of overwhelming affection that made her throw her arms around the surprised redhead. Marceline pulled her into a much closer hug than they'd previously shared when she noticed Bonnie standing by her shoulder and gazing at her worriedly.

"Thank you for coming down here." she mumbled against the other girl's hair, suddenly terribly embarrassed by the tear tracks staining her cheeks.

"I was just around the corner. Literally; the lab I'm working in is almost on the back of this building." Bonnie replied with a light blush. "How's your uncle? Is he... still hanging on? He's gonna recover?"

Marceline still hadn't let go of her and Bonnie felt her arms tense around her shoulders at the question. Maybe that had been a little tactless; Bonnie wasn't always great at navigating social situations. But Marceline had already known that. She'd even said herself that night in the pub that she thought it was adorable how awkward the other girl could be. Bonnie cringed, hoping she wasn't re-evaluating that opinion now.

"He's recovering from emergency surgery; they put some sort of medical thingy into his heart." Marceline muttered in a brittle voice. Bonnie nodded, unsure if she should maybe step back but guiltily unwilling to let go just yet because it was selfish and wonderful to have an excuse to wind her arms around Marceline's waist and pull her in for a hug.

"That's probably a stent. It's like a sort of surgical tube they put into the arteries of the heart to help them stay open and keep the blood flowing." she explained as gently as possible. "If they're giving him a stent then they must think he's got a good chance." she added.

Marceline did pull back then, but she didn't completely unwind her arms from around the other girl's shoulders. She just rested her hands on the top of Bonnie's back and offered her a brief watery smile although it didn't really reach her eyes.

"Thank you for coming down here." she said again, looking away to hide her obvious embarrassment at being caught in such an emotional state. "I didn't know who else to call. I'm sure you'll be shocked to learn I don't have a ton of close friends and they're mostly the kind of people I just hang out and play music with from time to time. Or my stupid ex or the sweet kid who lives downstairs and crushes on me who I guess is probably one of my closest friends, actually. None of them are really much good in a crisis."

It was hard to know what to say to that. Bonnie just nodded and offered her what she hoped was a reassuring smile in return.

"You're probably the only person in the entire country who thinks I'm any good in a crisis. I just don't like seeing anyone upset. And you don't need to thank me for coming over here, like I said I was around the corner and I'm your friend. Of course I'll be there for you when you need someone." she replied as steadily as possible after a few moments.

"You're my friend?" Marceline asked with a small unreadable smile, something that was possibly teasing and possibly genuine confusion. Bonnie wasn't sure what she was hinting at; had she misread the situation? Were they not friends, after all? They'd hung out a lot since they met, went to dinner, had been texting each other almost every day since she'd gone to the gig that night. Marceline had even introduced her to the other members of her band the weekend previously. That was what friends did, right? She was certain of it.

"Did I read it wrong? Am I not your friend?" Bonnie asked quietly. Marceline snorted like she'd said something funny but Bonnie didn't get the joke. She stared at the other girl, suddenly worried that she'd said something inappropriate.

"I invited you to dinner at my favourite restaurant. And out to lunch the same day I met you. I gave you my card and waited for you to call because I wanted to get to know you better. You came to my show; you're the first person I thought to call in an emergency." Marceline replied after a second of unreadable silence, like that should somehow make it all perfectly clear.

Her red rimmed eyes flickered back up to meet Bonnie's and she abruptly realised that they were actually standing really quite close together. Much closer than she'd ever stood with any of her other friends like Jake or Lydia, closer than could really be counted as platonic if she wanted to look at it that way. For no reason she could think of Bonnie's heart was suddenly racing, fluttering behind her ribcage like a trapped bird trying to escape. It was probably a totally inappropriate situation to want to sway forwards into those beautifully inked arms and press her lips against the other girl's but Bonnie was finding it increasingly difficult to think about anything else. Marceline's lips looked so soft, they were full and round and looked so wonderfully kissable. Was the distance between their faces getting smaller? Was Marceline tilting her head just a little, so their noses wouldn't bump? She was almost certain the other girl's hands were putting just a little encouraging pressure on her back, urging her closer inch by inch-

And then some ever so helpful doctor was saying Marceline's name, tapping her on the shoulder. She whipped around at the voice and the moment was lost. If it had ever been there to start with; Bonnie wasn't entirely sure she hadn't imagined the whole thing just because she wanted it to happen so badly. She took a steadying breath and tried to shove the unreasonable pulse of disappointment down and away. She must have been imagining it because she was certain the other girl was straight, was absolutely not interested in her.

"Miss Petrikova? Your uncle's stable and he's coming round from the anaesthetic now, you can go in and see him if you want to."

She stepped back, away from Bonnie and that dangerous confusing moment. Marceline followed the doctor with the panic and apprehension suddenly back on her face where there had been implacable tenderness a moment before.