Work Header

Pray for the Preacher's Daughter

Chapter Text

Sunday 25th January 2015

Sunday morning (as with all of the sluggish Saturday immediately before it) passed painfully slowly. It was like the universe knew exactly what she was looking forward to doing and was punishing her for it. Seconds ticked by like hours and the goddamn hours took freaking lifetimes.

As always, she’d skipped church attendance. Nothing killed a good feeling like listening to her father harp on about the spiritual saviour, their Lord in Heaven, hallowed be His name. Erk. Pass.

However, pacing her bedroom (a whopping four paces) from the corner of her closet to the edge of her desk (which she unfailing tapped twice on her way past) was boring as batshit. Honestly. Why people in movies and whatnot were ever depicted passing their time by pacing was beyond her. Watching paint dry would probably be more stimulating than this. Marceline made a mental note to invest in a few tins of paint in case a similar waiting game arose in the future.

Upon realising that white paint wouldn’t show up so well on her already white walls, she made a secondary note to get a few different colours.

Her phone rang.

With super human speed, she snatched it off the wood of her desk (and reducing the four steps to half of one in the process). It was not from Bonnie. Her heart sank.

Still, she answered it anyway.

“Sup, jerk,” she asked, forcing a little joviality into her voice. There probably wasn’t any concealing her disappointment though. No matter how well she and her brother got on, he wasn’t Bonnibel. Alas. (Or maybe that was fortunate given recent developments.)

“Hey, loser. How’s life?”

Marceline sucked in a long breath that she knew he’d hear and let it all out in a slow whoosh accompanied by a drawn out, “Eh. I guess it could be better. I’m still stuck in this hole in the wall.”

“That bad, huh? Tell me, did you make up with your new friend? You never told me.”

“Didn’t think you’d care.”

Marshall laughed. “I don’t really. But I told Fionna about your significant personal growth spurt and she was elated. Now I must find out more details for her.”

“Yeah,” she huffed. “Turns out I was over reacting. She seemed to find the whole idea hilarious.”

“But she forgave you for being a jerk, right?”

“Yep. Water under the bridge.”

“Well that is good to hear. So have you added her to your tiny list of friends permanently?”

Marceline rolled her eyes, chewing her lip. “I… guess I have.”

“Uh-oh,” he cackled. “That doesn’t sound good. What did you do?”

She felt her face flush massively and was immensely relieved that he couldn’t see her. “I… what? No. I didn’t do anything.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” Her stomach roiled. Normally, she and Marshall would share things. After all, she was the first person to learn that he’d bitten the bullet and asked Fionna out. But somehow it felt wrong to tell him. Like it’d jinx her or something. “Friends,” she muttered instead.

“Alright, squirt, whatever. Cool your jets.”

She exhaled heavily down the line at him. “So did you just call to make fun of me, or what?”

“Oh, right,” he cried, tone brightening instantly. “I called to tell you that we’re dropping around for Easter. I was going to call dad, but he’s still a little iffy about my life choices, I think.”

“You did take all the money out of your tertiary education fund and spend it buying a bar,” she pointed out wryly. “I don’t think he’ll ever get over that.”

“True. Guess you have a lot to make up for.”

“Oh, yeah no,” she chortled sarcastically, waving a hand he couldn’t see. “No. I’m going to let him down too, don’t you worry. I’m a big, fat disappointment waiting to happen.”

“Waiting…” Marshall mused carefully, the implications heavy in his tone. “Wait, fat? Did you put on weight?”

“Shut up, jackarse.”

“Just kidding. Well, that was my informative phone call for the year. Just make sure to fill dad in on those little details and we’ll be set.”

“Coward. When are you arriving?”

He hummed softly in thought. “We’ll probably show up the day before Good Friday. Might hang around for a few days.”

“A few days is very non-specific.”

“Give it a week, tops. Why? Do you have a hot date pencilled in sometime there and I’m not allowed to know about it?”

Marceline resisted the urge to say something waspish. That would probably just confirm exactly what Marshall was suggesting. Besides, she couldn’t say either way when she didn’t know. “Dad doesn’t like indefinite, undefined things,” she said instead. “You know that.”

“I do. Maybe I won’t give you an end date for our visit just to piss him off.”

“I have to live with him,” she said flatly.


“Bye, Marshall,” Marceline breathed.


The call clicked disconnected. For a moment, Marceline stood there staring at her phone, then remembered that she didn’t actually have anything to do and resumed pacing. Perhaps wearing a hole in her floor could be her aim for the day.




“Dad, can I borrow your ute?” she asked as casually as she could manage as she stepped into the kitchen.

Hansen barely spared her a glance from pencilling something into his planner. “You have a car,” he reminded her unnecessarily. “And a motorbike.” Oh yes, because she didn’t know that.

“Yes,” she acknowledged knowing how to play his game.

“Why can’t you drive it then?” And now he looked up. “Did you break it?”

Marceline sighed. “No, dad.”

An eyebrow inched upwards, expectant. “Then why can’t you use yours?”

Ah… the crux of the matter. Marceline hadn’t quite thought up an answer to that yet and was just hoping he’d let it go. The expression on Hansen’s face told her that maybe she should’ve had a back-up plan. “Um… because…?”

Yeah, go Marceline. What an excellent reason. Great plan.

“You have a car,” he repeated just in case she’d missed it the first time. “Use it.”

“So that’s a ‘no’ to borrowing your car, right?” she pressed with a cheeky smirk. Best to be sure.

“Correct. Use the one you’ve got.” With that he resumed ignoring her and returned to whatever he’d been doing before. Just. Swell.

With the kind of sigh designed to make her dad understand just how upset she was with his… dadness, she flounced back up the stairs to change into something a tiny bit nicer than the torn shorts and faded shirt she’d been wearing all day. As she passed the bathroom she contemplated having a shower, but no. That could come later. For now, some nice clean clothes would suffice and she could do the other when she got home.

Honestly, Marceline had never considered that she might be one of those girls who did a little panicked dance around her bedroom wondering what on Earth she could wear on a date. Jeans would be too hot, so denim shorts it was. Still, she somehow managed to find herself wearing a plaid shirt with elbow length sleeves. Fine, whatever.

It’s just Bonnie.

Except, no. It’s not just Bonnie. There is no way Bonnie could ever be just anything. Unless she was being just amazing and fantastic and crazy intelligent. Yeah, no pressure or anything.

Marceline sucked in a long, slow breath and calmed herself as best she could. Once she was sure she wasn’t going to stress vomit about the fact that she was going on a freaking date with Bonnibel, she headed back down the stairs. Okay, so she more or less fell down the stairs because her knees had somehow that science couldn’t explain turned into jelly. But that’s beside the point.

“Be careful driving with your arm,” her father reminded her as she banged the door shut.

“Yeah,” she grumbled, sliding into her car. “Because I’d forgotten it was broken. Thanks for the tip, dad.” Simply because her arm was broken though, didn’t stop her from speeding just the tiniest bit on her way out to Ivy’s. Good thing the road was straight, she supposed.

The parking lot at the café was nearly empty; Ivy’s little green bug sat beside a single Chevy covered in so much mud it was impossible to tell what colour was underneath. But closing time was just around the corner so Marceline figured it was to be expected. The door tinkled when she pushed it in and Ivy popped up from behind the counter with a big smile in place.

“Marceline,” she sang. “I’d almost forgotten you were coming in.”

“Only almost, I hope,” she joked.

Ivy waved a hand. “Of course. How could I forget you, dear? Do you still need my kitchen?”

She shuffled her feet. “If it’s not too much trouble. I can get the other stuff off you first if that’s better?” she suggested, hooking a thumb behind her.

Instantly, Ivy’s face exploded into one of realisation. “Oh yes, right. That I had forgotten. Give me a moment to find it. There’re chairs over there for you.” The elderly proprietor pointed hastily at a pair of folding camping chairs leaning against the wall by the door that Marceline had completely overlooked. “I’ll be back.”

To fill in time while Ivy went to get the projector, Marceline hauled the chairs up into the boot of her car. Good thing there was a lot of space otherwise this whole enterprise would be a waste of time. It would’ve been better if she’d had her dad’s car, but that’s whatever. Honestly. The man couldn’t make her life easier just this once, could he? No. Evidently.

A very large fellow was moving a piece of machinery around a table towards the exit under Ivy’s pointed scrutiny when she stepped back inside. Her jaw dropped. That’s not… Surely…

“Is that the projector?” she asked, in little better than a whisper.

“Oh yes,” Ivy told her, delighted, with a funny little bob of her head. “It’s a bit large, isn’t it? Will you have room?”

For a moment Marceline’s mouth just worked quietly. “Um… yeah. I think it should be fine.”

I hope, she amended in her head. If not tonight was going to be one big old fail. It’d be impressive really.

Thankfully, the man didn’t even scratch the car as he hefted the thing inside. The whole time he was being directed, Marceline watched, a little vacantly, with her head on one side.

“Am I going to be able to move that myself?” she asked.

The man eyed her up and down. “Probably not with your arm in a cast,” he chuckled. “Why?”

Her shoulders slumped. “Well if I can’t move it then my life is so much harder,” she grouched.

He smiled. “What’s your plan?”

Marceline regarded him warily. “You know that old barn out in the field near Mount Marrow?” He nodded. “I want to set the projector up so it shows on the side.”

“Ah, okay. Do you want me to set it up then?”

She frowned at him. “Why would you do that?”

“Cause you’re tiny,” he laughed. “And broken. You’ll never shift it.”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “Which side do you want it set up on?”

“Um… So Marrow is between me and the sun.”

“Gotcha.” The guy hefted the projector back out of Marceline’s car and hoisted it into the tray of his. “See you round, Ivy.” He smiled at the old lady, winked at Marceline and clambered up into his car to drive off. As he disappeared down the road, Marceline wondered if trusting him was a good idea.

“Who was he?” she asked Ivy as they went back inside.

“He’s a friend of my son’s,” Ivy told her. “He comes by sometimes to help out or bring me produce from Blackwater. Nice boy.”

Marceline only nodded, stepping into the kitchen. Ivy didn’t talk about her son or her husband and Marceline knew better than to ask. Instead of dwelling on things that weren’t her business, she started rummaging around for the right pots.

“Might I ask what all this is for?” Ivy enquired; a funny lilt to her voice.

She looked over her shoulder at the other woman standing in the doorway. “What do you mean?”

Ivy waved a hand in a general ‘towards Marceline’s car’ direction. “The chairs, the projector, the cooking in my kitchen that you apparently can’t do at home. What’s happening here?”

Oh. Shit. “I’m doing something nice for a friend,” she mumbled.

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“I know how to be nice,” she grouched, filling the pot with water. “I’m not all mean.”

Ivy smiled in a terribly devious way that Marceline just did not like. “I know you’re a good person, Marceline. I meant the ‘friend’ bit. You only have two friends.”

She hunched her shoulders and refused to look at the infuriating woman. “I’m expanding my circle, thank you very much. And what do you mean two?”

“You’ve got Keila and that nice Bonnibel girl.”

Right. Keila. “Yeah, well. Keila’s been dropping the ball in the friend department lately,” Marceline muttered, trying not to sound bitter about it. “I figured Bonnie deserves a little bit of recompense for putting up with me.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t mind. She likes you; I don’t think she wants anything in return for hanging out.”

The spoon Marceline was using to stir the sauce clanged against the metal edge. “Just let me cook in peace, woman,” she grumbled.

Ivy left the room in a gale of laughter. The silence was much appreciated.




For some reason (and it didn’t make a lick of sense), she couldn’t bring herself to get out of the car. Consequently, she’d been sitting with her knuckles fastened tightly around the steering wheel bouncing her knees with anxiety for the last ten minutes. Why did this feel so damn hard?

“It’s just Bonnie,” she whispered to herself. “Get out. Come on. She’s not that scary.”

She sucked in a massive breath and all but kicked open her door. Still muttering a stupid pep talk under her breath, she stumbled to the door to Bonnie’s flat. For a moment, she stared at the door to the house proper, then she shook her head. Peter’s opinion didn’t matter. Well, okay, so it kind of did, but not right now.

Wondering if her knees would continue to support her weight, she knocked lightly on the wood. It took all of five seconds for the door to be pulled in to reveal a beaming Bonnibel.

“Hi,” she burbled, gaze flicking over Marceline before returning to her face. “You look nice.”

“What?” she blurted. “Oh. Um… thanks? You look good too.” She did, in her little white sundress. But that was to be expected really.

“Alright,” Bonnie laughed. “Enough with the awkward. It’s just me.”

“Yeah. Just you. Sure.” She paused worriedly. “Let’s um… go then.”

“Excellent.” With that Bonnie bounced over to her car. She stopped just before getting in. “It smells nice. Why does your car smell?”

Marceline rolled her eyes. “Just get in,” she chuckled, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Slowly, Bonnie sank into the passenger side, eyes locked onto Marceline’s face, a quirky little smile in place. “Are you going to tell me what the smell is?”


“What about where we’re going?”

“Not a chance.”

“You don’t want to give me any spoilers at all?”

“No, I don’t.”

Bonnie did that thing with her eyes that Marceline can never say ‘no’ to. She shook her head, keeping her attention on the road. “Come on, Marcy,” she whined. “Tell me something.”

“You sound like a six year old.” She didn’t mention the nickname thing. It did something funny to the lining of her stomach. “I’m not going to tell you anything. It’s a surprise. Pick another subject.”

Bonnibel sighed. “Alright. How about you tell me if you actually handed that application in to Driscoll. You had me help with the letter and give my opinion on song choices, but you sort of dropped it after that.”

Marceline lifted an eyebrow, deeming it safe now to glance over at her friend. “Of course I handed it in. On Wednesday actually. Why?”

“Submissions close at the end of the month,” Bonnie explained. “I didn’t want you to miss it if you were serious about going.”

She cut another fleeting look across the cab. “Of course I was serious. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just making sure.” Bonnie hesitated. Then, “I kind of expected you to come over when grades were released too.”

“I uh… I didn’t know if…”

“It’s fine,” Bonnie put in quickly.

“I did really well, Bon,” she muttered. “I was going to visit with the folder, but I wasn’t sure if…”

Bonnie smiled gently. “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to say things you don’t want to?”

Marceline sighed. “Thanks.”

“So,” she tried in a bit of a sing-song voice. “Why are we out here? Are you going to kill me this time?”

She laughed. “No. But bear with me, this old car wasn’t really meant for off-road driving.”

Bonnie’s eyes shot wide open as she veered off the highway and onto the very bumpy dirt road. Yeah, the suspension in the Camaro? Not the greatest. But it gave her a laugh to see the look on Bonnie’s face. The chairs in the boot clunked loudly and Bonnibel latched onto the seat.

“Is this even safe?” she asked in a high-pitched squeak.

“Yes, don’t worry. We’re nearly there.”

Bonnie peered through the windscreen. “That’s Mount Marrow, right?”


“Please tell me we’re not going hiking? It’s nearly dark.”

“Don’t worry,” she repeated. “No hiking, promise.”

The barn more or less just rose up out of the ground as they hit the top of the rise and the ground levelled out. In a blinding stroke of good fortune, the projector was set up just how she’d wanted it. The sun would go down behind the mountain (which was more of a glorified hump than anything else, and weirdly out of place in the rolling grasslands), sending the area into premature darkness. Perfect.

Marceline pulled up beside the projector and checked the time. Nearly six. Good. Already the inky light bleeding out from behind the silhouette of Marrow was fading, behind them the first stars were starting to freckle the velvet sky. Bonnie got out warily, obviously wondering what they were doing in the middle of nowhere.

She patted the bonnet of her car. “Park yourself.” With narrowed eyes, Bonnibel slid up onto the red and black paint and watched as Marceline wandered around to the boot. As she popped it open she changed her mind about the chairs, opting to retrieve the blankets and pillows she’d stashed instead.

“Do I get an explanation yet?” Bonnie questioned when Marceline dropped the linen on the hood. “Because I’m confused.”

“All in good time. Here, let me put this down.” She spread the fluffiest blanket out across the car and handed Bonnie the pillows. “Just make yourself comfortable while I get the rest of it ready.”

Bonnie’s mouth dropped open. “Marceline Abadeer!”

She shot Bonnibel a cheeky smile. “Just be patient.”

Grumbling, Bonnie tucked a cushion behind her against the windshield and glared after Marceline. Thankfully, the projector didn’t take much convincing to accept the old tape. And it started! Oh yeah, today was her day. It rattled as it wound up, the light flickering fitfully as it shone across the still darkening area at the barn. It showed up on the wall quite nicely. Brilliant.

She bounced back over to the car to pull out a pair of dishes, a bottle of water and some faux-glass cups because she didn’t entirely trust herself not to break the real ones. Marceline passed one to Bonnie and hoisted herself up onto the bonnet next to her. Then she poured water into the cups and grinned.

Warily, Bonnie peeled the lid off the container and finally allowed a smile the filter through. “Spaghetti,” she sighed happily. “Wait,” she added sharply, looking up as Marceline opened her own dish of spaghetti. “Aren’t you allergic to tomatoes?”

“Yes. This is actually garlic sauce,” Marceline replied, pointing to her plate with a fork. “Yours is garlic too.”

She grinned. “Alright. So no tomatoes in mine either?”


“Excellent. I was planning on giving them up anyway. What’s with the light on the barn?”

“Give it a minute to warm up.” Marceline knew her face had ‘why stop eating tomatoes?’ written all over it. She held it in though, knowing from the way Bonnie’s eyes crinkled in the middle that she didn’t want to talk about it. And maybe Marceline wouldn’t want to know. But there was also this weird squirming feeling in her stomach telling her she should probably know the significance of it. Not having ever claimed to be good with social cues, Marceline decided to let it slide.

For now.

It took a moment of silent eating before the projector was comfortable with actually starting its job. But there was no static or distortion in the image either way so she was fine with it taking a bit longer than it should. Then the images began to play and Bonnie made the most adorable little sound Marceline had ever heard. The look on her face was beautiful.

The Passion of Joan of Arc,” she squealed. “Oh my God, the original silent version.” She turned her big green eyes Marceline’s way and even in the dying light she could see them glitter. “Where did you get this?”

Marceline shrugged one shoulder, smiling at the reaction she’d elicited. “My mum was a silent film junky. She had a whole collection of them. Marshall took most of them when he left, but I found a few in a box at the church a while back. I figured we could watch the others later, but you mentioned this one once and I thought you might like it on a big screen.”

Bonnie smiled so big her face should probably have split in two. “This is perfect,” she exhaled. “What other ones did she have?”

“Um… Metropolis and Nosferatu I remember being there. Pretty sure the nineteen-twenty-five version of Phantom of the Opera was with them.”

“Oh yeah,” Bonnie told her. “We are definitely having a movie night with them at some point.”

“Date two, maybe?” Marceline suggested with a tentative smile.

If possible (and Marceline wasn’t sure it was) Bonnie’s smile expanded. “I’d like that.”

There was silence after that. And not even in a figurative way because the movie was silent. It was as if the entire land had fallen quiet for them. Admittedly, Marceline spent a good deal of her time watching Bonnibel and hoping not to get caught, but she was sure she paid attention to the movie too. Mostly. No, not at all really.

Especially not when the dishes were emptied and set on top of the car. When that happened Bonnie rested her head on Marceline’s shoulder and wound their fingers together. It was hard to concentrate with Bonnie’s finger tracing delicate little patterns on the side of her thumb. Concentrating was hard because of the whole proximity thing too. Wow. Her heart hammered staccato in her ribcage, pulse flaring in her neck much too painfully.

When the movie clicked finished, the projector whirring down to join them in silence, neither of them moved. Now that it was completely dark, the stars stood out much better against the indigo firmament. She could feel Bonnibel breathing beside her, could feel her watching.

“Star gazing?” Bonnie asked her softly.

“I’ve always wanted to know constellations,” Marceline admitted.

Bonnibel huffed a gentle laugh. “You just want me for my brain.”

Marceline tiled her head to look at her friend. “Amaze me,” she murmured.

Still smiling in a way that spoke of barely withheld laughter, Bonnie turned back to the sky and pointed to the north. “Perseus,” she whispered. “Directly below him is Taurus and then Orion. Cetus is there with them, kind of in the middle.” She paused, eyes searching the sky. “To be honest, astrology isn’t my favourite science. Plus,” she added, gaze returning to Marceline. “You’re not even looking at the stars.”

“It’s not my fault you’re prettier than the stars,” Marceline breathed.

“That was really sappy.”

“You deserve a little sappy in your life.”

Kiss her, the little voice in the back of her head prodded. She ignored it.

“I didn’t think you knew how to be sappy,” Bonnie murmured.

Marceline grinned. “Neither did I.”

“Is that my fault too?”

“It just might be.” She checked her watch then, and silently swore at the universe that it was freaking eight-thirty already. “We should get going. It’ll be nearly ten when I drop you off and I did promise to get you back early.”

Bonnibel nodded, sliding off the bonnet to fold up the blankets. Briefly (and Marceline couldn’t be sure it had even happened) she looked a little disappointed. Something panged in Marceline’s chest at the possibility that she’d let Bonnie down. God but she could think of nothing worse.

Marceline tossed the now empty spaghetti dishes into the boot and waited for Bonnie to drop the blankets in with them. She paused though, that odd ghostly smile tugging at her lips as she deposited the pillows with much more care than required. She didn’t say anything at first, so Marceline disregarded it. It was probably nothing.

Once they were sitting in the car, however, Bonnibel muttered. “You brought chairs.”

Warm flooded Marceline’s cheeks. “Uh… yeah?”

“Can I ask why we didn’t sit on those? It might have been more comfortable than the hood of the car.”

“Maybe,” she acceded, hunching closer to the steering wheel. “But sitting on the bonnet gave me an excuse to be closer to you…” she trailed off, acutely aware of how Bonnie was smiling at her. “What?”

“You’re a sweetheart,” she sang.

Marceline huffed. There was nothing to say to that. So she ignored it. Somehow (despite the way Marceline still felt incredibly awkward and nervous), the car ride back into town wasn’t either of those things. Instead, they just talked about the movie. And no, Marceline hadn’t being paying as much attention to the film as she’d thought. Luckily, Bonnie simply called her sweet again and moved on.

It was actually really nice. Honestly, it didn’t feel like a date at this point. This was just… normal.

And then of course she pulled up outside Bonnie’s house and it stopped being normal and she started to panic because oh God what is she supposed to do now? There’s like… end of date etiquette, right? Shit. Marceline didn’t watch cheesy romance movies because she’s above them, but they’d probably be helping her out in this moment.

Okay, now all she’s doing is chewing her lip and panicking while Bonnie gets out. Oh. Follow her. Hastily, Marceline unbuckled her belt and did as her little voice instructed. Luckily, Bonnie hadn’t made it far so it didn’t appear as awkward as it felt. Whew.

“Hey,” Bonnibel began slowly, pushing the door of her flat in. “I know it’s totally cliché to say it, but I did have a really good time. That was easily the best first date in the history of the world.”

“Yeah?” Marceline just wanted to make sure. The embarrassingly hopeful tint to her voice probably didn’t help though.


“So a second date is alright?”

Bonnie beamed. “Definitely. Hint: the rest of those movies will net you lots of brownie points.”

Marceline couldn’t stop from laughing then. “Are you sure? That’s… easy.”

“I don’t want crazy fancy things that involve too much hassle. Just some chill time is good. Tell you what, you pick a time and day and supply the movies, I’ll cook dinner. Sound fair?”

“Sounds perfect,” she exhaled. “Although I think planning the second date together is a little bit unusual.”

Bonnibel shrugged. “Stereotypical is boring. Dare to be different.” She kept smiling that gorgeous smile and Marceline didn’t know if her heart could take it. She might even go into cardiac arrest or something equally serious if Bonnie didn’t stop being the most beautiful person in the world.

Just damn well kiss her already, the little voice snapped.

But what if she didn’t want…

Kiss her, you idiot.

Before the other little voice telling her to be careful could intervene, Marceline found herself very, very close to Bonnibel. She swallowed; the gap narrowing until she could feel Bonnie’s breath against her lips. Her heart just about gave up on the whole beating thing when their noses bumped.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Marceline asked quietly.

Bonnibel only hummed.

Marceline wasn’t sure if Bonnie leaned into her or the other way around, but somehow she ended up with her lips pressed to Bonnie’s and honestly, it was the best decision she’d ever made. Hollywood’s fireworks didn’t go off – not even metaphorical ones – but hypersensitivity is totally a thing. It was as though the world disappeared and the only thing she could feel was Bonnie. Just her fingers fiddling with Marceline’s shirt, just her mouth moving slowly against her own, her eyelashes whispering across her cheek, and the warmth from pressing together; just the heat sizzling along her nerves, crackling through every cell in her body. Just the way she sighed. Which was arguably (read: totally) more amazing anyway. It only got better when she felt Bonnibel’s fingers wind into the hem of her shirt and tug her closer. Yeah, that was her heart failing. Cool.

Sadly, it couldn’t last, but they stayed probably a little bit too close together. All Marceline was aware of was the way Bonnie tasted like garlic and how her fingers were toying with her shirt and wow, how her pupils were blown. Bonnibel made a funny little whine when she tried to pull back further so she stayed where she was, nose ghosting against Bonnie’s cheek.

All Marceline wanted to do was kiss her again.

“Hum,” Bonnibel purred, pressing her face into the crook of Marceline’s neck, hands folding around her waist. “That was way better than I’d imagined.”

A soft chuckle vibrated through Marceline’s chest. “Yeah? We can agree on that then.”

“Can I ask you a question?”


“Does this mean I can be your girlfriend?” The words were barely audible, but they echoed through Marceline’s veins like lightning.

Her hands fisted in Bonnie’s dress. “Do you want to be?”

Bonnibel swayed back out to meet her eyes. “Hell yes.” And she grinned her dimpled smile and Marceline just… yeah, in keeping with tradition, she melted. Sappy indeed.

“I can be alright with that,” she rasped, not quite sure where her ability to speak properly had gone. “It actually sounds pretty fantastic.” And it did. Bonnibel was her girlfriend. Her nerve endings were frazzled at the idea alone.

“Good. Then I need to ask my girlfriend a favour.” There was a mischievous glint to her eyes that had Marceline’s brow furrowed in point-zero-one of a second. The words that came next though… that was something else. “Kiss me again.”

It took her brain a moment to realise what she was being asked, but when it did, she grinned. “Yeah, that I can do.”

Kissing Bonnibel was something she could do forever.

It took her a long time to say goodnight.