So you may have noticed the summary has changed ever so slightly. I added a further warning for the sex and violence that will happen later in the story, just I don't want anyone to say I took them by surprise with deeply graphic stuff because I'm normally very careful to warn people about anything potentially shocking or triggering. Consider yourself warned: this chapter is perfectly innocent but sometime soon there will be all kinds of very on-screen no-pants-dancing. It is most definitely NSFW.
Content Warning: feminist attitudes towards butthurt straight boys, very graphic descriptions of a city and hotel I once stayed in, very subtle hints towards backstory. Nothing terribly triggering here I guess.
Your taxi is outside and your chauffeur is highly caffeinated. Need help with your equipment or can I just stay behind the wheel? x
Oh, so they were back to putting kisses on the end of texts? That was encouraging. Marceline smiled tiredly at her phone and tapped out a quick reply before she jumped up from where she'd been waiting in the stairwell of her apartment building and lugged her amp and guitar cases out to the waiting car. At least it had finally stopped raining.
nop ive got it already downstairs with my amps n stuff just pop the boot and ill load it right up x x x
She looked towards Mo's window as she went by but nobody seemed to be home; he was probably either still asleep or out someplace. Mo hadn't been acting completely normally either. He'd texted a couple of times but his language had seemed overly polite and a bit distant. It hurt her even though he'd been the one to make things weird. Marcy had meant it when she told the boy she thought of him as a little brother and she had precious few family members left, she didn't like being at odds with him. But equally she didn't know what she could do about it until he grew up a bit and stopped acting like her lack of interest in kissing him was a personal insult. Like her simply not wanting to wasn't enough of a reason to say no. Marceline was absolutely done with being objectified by anyone and she didn't have the time or inclination to soothe his bruised ego. If Mo wanted to be butthurt about it he'd just have to get over that on his own. He hadn't even asked for an explanation for her panic attack and that hurt her almost more than his selfish behaviour had. She knew he did care about her, just at the moment he was being an entitled prick and that wasn't like the boy she knew. Perhaps it would have even been nice to tell him about it. She might have felt a little better if she wasn't carrying her past around like some terrible secret the whole time.
Marcy wasn't the only one who'd been doing a lot of thinking. After a couple of days to reflect on it as well as Finn and Susan's love bombing intervention through the week Bonnie was feeling a lot more confident in her ability to navigate a platonic friendship with Marceline. The dark haired girl was a lot of fun to be around; she had an infectious smile and always looked for the silver lining no matter what was happening. She had a way of seeing things that was different from anyone else Bonnie had ever met. Just because Bonnie often had to repress the urge to slide her hands through that gorgeous silky hair and pull her forward for a kiss didn't mean they couldn't be friends, right? It just meant they'd have to have the kind of friendship where one friend was completely oblivious of the fact that the other had an entirely inappropriate crush on them. Or was sometimes uncomfortable in their company and sometimes fantasized about them in a not completely platonic way. So long as they weren't alone together for too long Bonnie figured she'd be able to deal with it fine. Of course, then she'd immediately gone and agreed to be alone with Marcy for the entire weekend because clearly she couldn't be asked a favour by a gorgeous and completely off limits woman without entertaining vivid fantasies about sweeping her off her feet and kissing her breathless, like the total idiot she knew she was.
Bonnie let the engine idle while she waited. She was parked a little way from the building; far enough that she could observe for a minute while the other girl struggled with two guitar cases and her enormous amplifier. It was on wheels but that didn't make it any easier to roll across the cracked and bumpy tarmac of the small car park. She took a moment to appreciate just how good Marcy looked in a slim button down shirt and very close fitting skinny jeans before the critical part of her brain reminded her that the other girl had pushed her away, wasn't interested in her and was almost certainly more concerned with Jake's shoes and how spacious Bonnie's car was than anything else. Despite what Finn had said Bonnie couldn't shake the feeling she had absolutely no shot with Marceline and the whole weekend was probably going to be absolute torture for her.
She obligingly popped the boot anyway, even got out of the car to help load the amp despite the chastising voice in the back of Bonnie's head telling her she was acting like a lovesick puppy.
"So tell me about this hotel." Bonnie said distractedly while Marceline slid into the front passenger seat and adjusted the leg room. Bonnie tried not to stare; close up her jeans were even more snugly fitted than they'd looked from across the car park.
"It's really good. It has the spa you asked for, it's pretty central and I paid extra for a really nice suite because hey, rock star in training here." Marceline replied with a tired smile and a voice that dragged a little with fatigue. Bonnie peered more closely at her face. There were tell-tale dark rings under her eyes and she kept rubbing her left shoulder like it was irritating her.
"Late night?" Bonnie enquired gently.
"No, just I haven't been sleeping so well recently." Marcy muttered, hunching down in her seat and avoiding her friend's concerned gaze. Bonnie frowned a little but didn't push it; she could recognise when someone had something they didn't want to talk about at least.
"Alright, let me put the postcode into the sat nav and we'll be away. I've factored in about an hour and a half for coffee breaks so we'll be there about four o'clock this afternoon depending on traffic. Will that give you enough time to get ready before the gig starts?"
Marceline just nodded and handed over a scrap of paper with a postcode scribbled down messily in what looked suspiciously like eye liner pencil. Bonnie shrugged at the sheepish smile Marcy offered her questioning glance and keyed it into the borrowed sat nav. She stared at the address that popped up, certain for a moment that she'd made a mistake before she remembered who she was dealing with.
"Did you seriously book us into the Malmaison? Isn't that a bit... upmarket?"
"You wanted a hotel with a spa and there weren't that many to choose from in the city centre." Marcy shrugged, eyes closed and head resting wearily against the seat back. She looked like she hadn't slept properly for much more than just a couple of nights. Maybe not since Simon had been taken into the hospital last week.
Bonnie didn't know what to say about the hotel; she'd really only been half joking about it needing to have a spa and certainly she hadn't expected Marcy to actually listen to her. She'd never been to a spa in her life. She supposed she'd forgotten that the other girl was clearly from money despite living in a somewhat run down area. There was every chance Marceline might not have realised she'd been joking; so they were going to a fancy hotel with a spa after all then. She wanted to thank Marceline for her generosity but she couldn't think of a way to do so without embarrassing them both terribly so she just stayed quiet.
Bonnie peered worriedly at her friend for a minute longer but Marcy didn't move or say anything else. She just slouched into the passenger seat quietly with her eyes closed and her brows knit together into a dark grimace, almost like she was in pain. Bonnie couldn't think of anything else to say so in the end she revved the car and released the handbrake instead. They rolled onto the road and set off northwards, towards the motorway. After a couple of minutes of tense silence where Marcy quietly glowered at the scenery flashing past her window and Bonnie racked her brain for something to say she sighed and flicked the CD player to life instead. It was an old car, she still had to use CDs or brave the inconsistent nature of the radio and honestly Bonnie didn't mind having to listen to everything on CD. They were really cheap to buy second hand and she'd amassed what she considered to be quite the collection over the years; although she got the feeling the other girl would probably disagree. After about thirty seconds Marceline looked round and stared hard at her.
"What the actual literal hell are we even listening to?"
Bonnie blushed.
"The, um, Frozen soundtrack. I just, um, I like Disney." she replied embarrassedly.
Marceline stared harder.
"How do you have a driving licence if you're actually only seven years old?" she demanded after a long moment.
"Hey, you can get the bus if you prefer." Bonnie replied, a little hurt. Marceline just sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Nah I'm good for taking the bus thanks. Let's listen to Frozen, I mean who doesn't want that stupid 'building a snowman' song stuck in their head for six and a half hours? Whenever you want a break from this crap I brought a couple of old mixtapes to listen to. Dad rock mostly, Simon's favourites and stuff I strongly suspect you secretly like. Black Sabbath, Sex Pistols, Queen, that style of thing. Quality tunes for Dads of a certain age, and for us too I guess. Got a Joni Mitchell CD in there too if you're feeling emotional. Or Alanis Morissette. Even got some Mozart, just for a change of pace."
"I like Disney." Bonnie repeated with a smile. Platonic was really easy actually, so long as she was looking at the road and they stuck to playful teasing about music. So long as she didn't have to look at those soft eyes and stunning smile, they were what turned her knees to water and ruined all her careful plans.
"Don't pretend like you're some sweet innocent princess. I know you noticed when I quoted Dire Straits the other day. You like rock, secretly."
Bonnie just shrugged and sang along to her CD annoyingly loudly, glad they'd moved past the awkward silence. She was planning for the next six and a half hours to be a magical adventure actually. After they'd finished with Frozen she had The Lion King, Mulan, Hercules, Pocahontas and probably a pile of other Disney soundtracks in a bright pink CD holder in the glove compartment. By the time they pulled onto the main motorway northbound Marcy was reluctantly tapping her foot along to Let It Go and rolling her eyes.
…
Somewhere in the middle of their journey Marceline's eyes slid closed and her breathing deepened to the slow rhythm of the soundly asleep. Bonnie turned the volume down on the CD player and risked a glance at Marceline's relaxed face. She looked a bit paler than usual and quite tense, like she'd been under a lot of stress recently. It wasn't surprisingly since her uncle had been rushed to hospital but even still Bonnie worried for her friend. Marceline had been unusually silent for most of the journey after their brief conversation about mixtapes, staring out of the window at the autumnal countryside rolling by and mostly only speaking when spoken to. Bonnie let her be quiet if she wanted. Something more than Simon's heart attack was clearly bothering her; maybe she was still upset about being chased by tabloid photographers. Bonnie would probably be upset about that too, it must be a constant reminder of the awful things that had happened when she was a child.
They drove in relative peace for a while longer, before the redhead became aware that the other girl was muttering in her sleep.
"...don't want... please, Mum." she murmured with a frown.
Bonnie stilled, as much as she could while still driving safely. Marceline had told her that day at the hospital that Simon was the only family she had left, that her father had killed her mother and gone to jail. Suddenly Bonnie was terribly uncomfortable at being alone in the car with Marceline talking about her dead mother in her sleep. She absolutely didn't want to intrude.
"...it hurts." Marcy whimpered, grimacing more and gripping her left shoulder unconsciously. Bonnie looked over at her anxiously for a moment before she reluctantly turned her eyes back to the road.
Marceline continued to say one or two words every now and again, but mostly it was too quietly for Bonnie to make out. She thought at one point the other girl said "hurts" again and maybe "Daddy" but she wasn't certain. She opened her eyes blearily a couple of hours later and squinted at Bonnie, struggling against the stab of unexpectedly bright sunshine slanting into her eyes.
"...Marshall?"
Bonnie glanced around at her, concerned.
"No, it's Bonnie. I'm driving you to Newcastle, remember?" she said gently to the sleep confused girl. "Who's Marshall?"
Marceline stared at her bewilderedly and her eyes slid back into focus as she came awake more fully.
"Who's…? Nobody. He's nobody. Where are we, anyway?" she hastily changed the subject, looking away out of the window again.
"We just went past the junction for Washington. We'll be there soon." Bonnie replied carefully, unwilling to push for more information when it was clearly making the other girl uncomfortable. Marceline stared at her again with her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Washington. Like, Washington the city? You drove us right across the Atlantic while I was napping?"
"Washington, Tyne and Wear. As in Washington the tiny village that the state, city and first president of the United States were all named after. George Washington's family lived there before some of them emigrated to America." Bonnie replied with a smile, glad they were back on safer ground.
"Huh. I knew that! I bet we'd be lethal in a pub quiz though, we should team up some time." Marcy muttered distractedly. Then, "Hey, the Angel of the North! Look!"
It was a pretty good distraction, certainly better than the local bus service; a huge metal angel on a hill overlooking the city that stretched across the valley below. Bonnie wasn't usually a fan of modern art but she quite liked the look of the angel, even if it did resemble a giant old fashioned airplane stuck tail first in the ground. She allowed herself to get caught up in a conversation about the sculptor who'd made it and temporarily forget about the mysterious name Marcy had been muttering as she came awake.
Pretty soon after that they came into the city proper and crossed the river while Marcy told her enthusiastically about how the structure of the old bridge was identical to the one in Sydney harbour. She seemed to be in a better mood since her nap at least. Then they were almost immediately right in the centre of the city and Bonnie had to gently tell her to shut up so she could concentrate on the unfamiliar busy roads. They'd made good time, hadn't needed to take anywhere near as many coffee breaks as Bonnie had thought they would. It was barely even three in the afternoon when they finally pulled into the small hotel car park. True to promise the building itself looked decidedly upmarket; it was all pastel up lighting and tall imposing windows. They left the sound equipment in the car for later and went to check in. Bonnie felt particularly embarrassed at leaving her beaten up old Punto parked next to a shiny brand new BMW convertible.
The hotel lobby was no less intimidating. Huge plate mirrors and expensive looking fresh floral arrangements were very much in evidence. The whole place had the feel of having been corporate branded within an inch of its life; probably just the lighting design cost more than Bonnie's mother's house.
"I know it's probably really rude but I have to ask. How are you affording this? This place looks like a single night here costs more than a month's rent in Leyton. I thought it was supposed to be cheaper in the north?" Bonnie muttered uncomfortably as they waited for their keys. She wished she'd put some nicer shoes on, her elderly and much abused pink Converse looked particularly threadbare and grubby against the plush carpets of the hotel.
"I inherited bit of money when my Mum died and Simon isn't exactly poor. I've got access to funds if I need them." Marceline replied vaguely.
Bonnie would have asked more about it but the tall man on reception who'd been checking them in returned from the side room he'd disappeared into a moment before with two key cards. He handed them over with a friendly smile and pointed towards the lifts.
"You're on the top floor, Ark Royal suite." he told them with a nod. "Need some help with your bags?"
"We're fine thanks, they're not heavy." Marceline replied with an easy smile in return. Even though she was dressed just as casually as Bonnie she seemed completely at home surrounded by the expensive décor.
"The Ark Royal was the flagship of the British fleet against the invading Spanish Armada during the reign of Elizabeth the First. Dunno if it has links to Newcastle though, I know they made ships here but I think that was much later. Simon would have been able to deliver an hour long lecture off the top of his head about it though, he knew literally everything." Marceline told Bonnie absent mindedly as they waited by the lifts.
"Really? Why would you even know that? And why would they name a hotel suite after it?" Bonnie replied in confusion.
"Dunno about the suite, but I know tons about history and stuff. Not as much as Simon but still tons. He used to take me all over the place before he got ill; we went all over the world having adventures. India, Australia, Sweden, you name it I've been there with Simon. He was a historian and antiquarian so the university paid him to go have foreign adventures. It was all very Indiana Jones. He took me to Machu Picchu for my tenth birthday, crazy stuff like that. Uncle Simon was literally the best. I wanted to be a historian too but then I had to quit school and besides, music was my first love and it will be my last."
"Mhm. That's a song lyric." Bonnie murmured, distracted. She was staring at the key cards with a definite frown on her face. "These keys are for the same room." she added, confused.
"Um, yeah? Road crew always bunk with the band, that's why I splashed out and got us a fancy suite. It's like, a rock'n'roll tradition."
Bonnie didn't reply, just followed Marceline into the lift with another small frown, and lost in thought. Something about the whole situation felt decidedly odd to her. Did road crew bunk with the band? Was that really a tradition? She ruminated on it while they rode the mirrored lift to the top floor and lugged their bags down the hall. The key cards fit a door at the end of the dark corridor and when it swung inwards Bonnie felt her eyes widen. She'd stayed in hotels before but never anything that could be considered expensive. The room they stepped into was like something from a film set.
It was an executive suite, alright. Probably the fanciest suite in the fancy hotel if not the whole city. It had not just one but two enormous baths side by side, a four poster king sized bed and huge windows with spectacular views across the various old bridges Marceline had been admiring on the way into the city.
"This must have cost a fortune!" Bonnie breathed as she stared wide eyed around the room. Marceline just grinned devilishly at her and flung herself onto the huge bed.
"Something else I picked up from Simon, I like to travel in style! Huh, guess they call it the Ark Royal Suite because the baths are in attack formation? And look, the mattress is extra bouncy. Quality." she sighed happily. "Oh! I forgot. Your spa vouchers. Go enjoy yourself. I got you like, two hours of whatever treatments you want. Didn't know if you were a Swedish massage type of girl or if you'd prefer the mud bath, so I left it up to you. I'll be up here taking in the view and performing my secret pre-gig good luck rituals."
She sat up and grabbed her bag, rummaging around for a while then handing over a small envelope with Bonnie's name on it.
"You're not coming with me?" Bonnie asked, surprised. She wanted to protest about the spa treatments but she also didn't want to appear ungrateful and honestly the intimidatingly extravagant hotel suite was leaving her feeling pretty wrong footed and dazed, even more so than the hotel lobby had.
"I don't like people touching my skin." Marcy replied quietly. Abruptly there was an unreadable blank look on her face and she wasn't quite able to meet the redhead's eyes. When she smiled again it seemed a little forced and a bit distant, like Marceline was watching something in her mind's eye that was momentarily more real for her than the fancy hotel suite. "Go on, they'll be waiting for you. I might get better acquainted with one of those rather magnificent looking baths. Be back by six, we've got dinner booked in the swanky restaurant downstairs."
And she bounced up from the bed and all but pushed the other girl towards the door, wide grin firmly back in place but not quite managing to look completely normal.
Marceline waited for a count of a hundred heartbeats after the door clicked closed behind Bonnie then carefully unbuttoned her shirt, shrugging out of her clothes with a wince and turning to look over her shoulder in the full length mirror. She examined her skin critically, eyes raking over every line and bump for signs of the inflammation she was certain must be there. It was terribly itchy, nothing she could do about that but carefully bathe it and apply her special moisturiser. Hope it had soaked in enough for her to be fully dressed and able to function normally by the time Bonnie returned.
The skin didn't look any different from usual but it felt tight and hot, like it was pulling uncomfortably every time she moved her shoulder. But there was no sign of infection so that must be just in her head like usual. Since the unpleasant scene with Mo the day before it had burned and itched insistently. She'd been up most of the night checking it and carefully moisturising it but the pain didn't go away. Not when every time she closed her eyes she could see the aggression in Mo's face again and the way his big hands balled into fists when she told him it was none of his business who she kissed.
She'd had a fair amount of physical therapy and surgery over the years and there was no contracture of the skin to speak of anymore. Her back was just as soft and pliant now as it had ever been. There wasn't even anything to see at a casual glance, just a thin girl with a sheet of very long dark hair and a lot of tattoos standing frowning in the mirror at her exposed skin. Soft pink roses covered most of her left shoulder and halfway up the side of her throat. They spread in a stylised spray down and across both shoulder blades and the tops of her arms before fading into a tangle of thorns halfway along her back. Loose petals drifted down over her ribs and one or two brushed the top of her left hip like they'd been blown free by the breeze. Beneath the roses a beautifully realistic grey wolf was curled fast asleep on a bed of more petals, surrounded by the protective thorns that would forever shield him.
It was a magnificently detailed piece of body art. She'd gone to an internationally award winning tattoo artist on her eighteenth birthday to have it done and been more than pleased with the result. There was no obvious difference between the tattoo and the uninked sections of her body, even if someone looked closely. It was only when Marcy ran her fingertips across it that she could feel that the skin beneath the beautiful body art was a little warped and uneven, slightly fragile and a little too thin. And at the moment it was dry and itchy and felt maddeningly hot.
Marceline ran herself a lukewarm bath and added a generous amount of the special scented oils she used when her skin bothered her too much. She'd misjudged the water and almost had a panic attack when she dipped one toe in; it was too warm and she absolutely couldn't bear too much heat against any part of her body. Breathing deliberately slowly to keep her anxiety at bay she added more cold water before testing it gingerly with an elbow and finally letting herself slide into the now cool bathwater. The itching in her shoulders disappeared almost instantly and she relaxed into the cool water with a relieved sigh. She was a very long way away from anyone who made her feel uncomfortable; she had a whole evening alone with Bonnie to look forward to and after that a really awesome gig to play. For the first time in days Marcy let herself really relax.