May

Bonnibel doesn't recognize the number on her phone's screen when its ringing wakes her. She blinks, the fuzzy film of sleep still heavy over her eyes. At first, she groans irritably, thinking she'll hang up. Then she realizes she fell asleep at her desk again. Sighing heavily, she taps the button with her thumb and raises the cellphone to her ear. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"PB?"

Bonnie blinks a few times. She's sure she knows that voice.

"PB, it's Keila. We met at Marceline's Halloween party?"

"Oh. Oh, hey Keila," Bonnibel says, rubbing her eyes. She turns off her desk lamp and heads out to the hallway, hearing Ellen mutter in her sleep behind her. "Well Keila, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Very much so," Keila groans back.

Bonnie blinks rapidly in the bright, flat light of the dorm hall, but it helps her brain to start. "So to what do I owe the pleasure?" she asks, sitting against the wall with her knees brought up to her chest.

"It's Marceline."

"…" Oh.

"She needs your help."

"What'd she do now, get arrested?"

"Yes," Keila groans.

"Wait, what?!" Bonnie replies. Keila tries to explain, rapidly, but it's all jumbled. "Whoa, whoa," Bonnie says, "slow down, start over."

"There was a protest," Keila repeats, sighing. "Students from the U and some other universities in the area and some out-of-staters came to protest the war, you know? Because the government keeps pressing for it, even though like nobody actually wants to go to war because it's basically just a ruse to get the VP's company access to oil fields, right? And there's a contract in the works between the military and Marcy's dad's company, so a bunch of students put together two protests, one at the DC headquarters of the oil company and one outside her dad's offices upstate. And the band, you know our band, the Scream Queens? We decided to go. At first it was fine, but Abadeer-Senior called the governor because of the bad press or whatever, and they send in not cops, but like SWAT TEAMS! It was a fucking nightmare, like something from a horror flick or the 1960s. And Marcy was just shouting into the mic not to fight back, don't piss 'em off, just everybody play it safe, but then somebody hit her back…" Keila's voice cracks.

"Her back?" Bonnibel asks. Strange, morbid calm settles over her.

Keila sniffles. "Yeah. You know, she got hit there pretty bad at the fight at school. She's only just been getting over it, and now this. I'm going to call her doc for her after this, but… Look, I'm at a payphone outside the jail where they were keeping all of us. The charges were all totally bogus, so they just kept us into the middle of the night, then woke us all up to make our phone calls. My boyfriend came and bailed me out, but Marcy's the only one left. Can… can you come get her?"

Bonnibel can't help it. She has to have answers first. "How do you even know my number?"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" Keila shrieks—Bonnie has to hold the phone out at arm's length—clearly at the end of her rope. "That woman will not shut up about you! For weeks, while all this shit's been going down, all she talks about is you AND IT HAS BEEN DRIVING ME CRAZY!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Bonnie hisses.

"Yeah, you'd better be!" Keila sniffles. "I didn't mean to blow up like that, but damn, girl."

"Couldn't she like… bail herself out though?" Bonnie asks. "I mean, I'm sure her dad's mad at her, but it's not like he can clear her bank account out."

"She didn't tell you?" Keila asks.

"Tell me what?"

"YOU MEAN THIS WOMAN'S BEEN TALKING MY FUCKING EARS OFF AND SHE HASN'T EVEN TOLD YOU ABOUT THIS FAMILY SHIT?!"

"Ow! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Oh! Oh, I'm gonna kill her! Dammit, PB, her family don't help her pay for school."

"What? Really, not at all?" Bonnie asks incredulously.

"No! She's not a business major or pre-law, so her dad cut her off. Only reason she can go home for holidays is her mom. And she refuses to take loans, so she just works."

"You mean she pays for school just from her band performances?"

"Well she does weddings and nice restaurants with her cello, too, plus tips. And I think she got some huge scholarship or something. And I think she work part-time at the hardware store next to campus. Man I don't know, ask her, I'm not doing her relationship for her, dammit."

How the lump did she ever have time to hang out? Bonnie wonders. "Keila, Keila, hey! Look, I don't have a car. I haven't even spoken to her in weeks."

"But do you think you could pay bail?"

Bonnibel sighs. Briefly, she remembers the last time she checked her account balance, pulling the memory up before her mind's eye. "I could afford it."

"Then you can take Marcy's car. We came up here by bus."

"What am I supposed to do, hotwire her car?!"

Finally, finally the engine roars awake. "SCIENCE!" Bonnibel cries in triumph.

"Did it work?"

"Yeah it did! Unh! Who da scientist?"

"Great, now drive it!" Keila says, having switched to her cell phone a while back once it had charged in her boyfriend's car.

"Uhh…"

"Don't tell me."

"I kind of haven't driven in a long time," Bonnie admits, rubbing her fingers over her pink, flannel pajama pants as she sits in the driver's seat of Marcy's car. Her nerves are shot enough with the lack of sleep, the news about Marceline being injured and in jail, and having to sneak past her apartment's security guard to get to her car. She isn't sure she can handle driving on top of all of this. Not to mention finals starting next week.

"Okay," Keila says. "How long is a long time?"

"Three years?"

"Shiiiiiit," Keila moans. In the background, Bonnie can hear her boyfriend going, too. "Oh man. Aw man! Shit, oh man."

"I've got my reasons, okay?" Bonnie shrills at them.

"Did you ever get your license?"

"Yes," Bonnie lies.

"Good enough."

Marceline hasn't slept all night. She lies on the jail cell bench, one arm draped over her eyes, moaning.

"Murraaaaay," she moans. "It's meeee. I didn't even steal anything. You'd be proud, I haven't stolen anything since high school. Been real good about not smoking things, too. I wasn't even drunk. Pleeeeeease, Murray, lemme out."

Somewhere around the corner, she hears a sigh. "Marceline, you know I want to, and I don't know how y'all did it, but you pissed off the governor, for fuck's sake. If I let you out, I don't just lost my job, I lose any job in the state. I'm sorry."

"Fuuuuuuuuck yooooooou," Marcy groans.

"I get that a lot."

"Just like the ol' days."

"You can still make your phone call," Murray says, his curly red mustache popping into Marceline's line of vision, on the other side of the bars. "Maybe your mother could come get you? Or any family friend?"

Marcy blinks sadly at him. "You know I can't do that."

"Well I'm just trying to help, maybe you can and you just think—"

"Just think what?"

"Excuse me, miss, can I help you?" Murray says loudly.

"Murray? Murraaaay? Come back you big prune," Marcy moans.

Bonnibel hears Marceline's voice echoing from behind the door, behind the round-looking man, behind the tall desk in the front lobby of the station. "I'm here to get Marceline Abadeer. That is, I'm here to pay her bail," she says rather decidedly, despite her grumbling innards.

Officer Murray looks Bonnibel over. He's not leering at her, he's just… confused, Bonnibel decides. She guesses most people who come to post bail don't arrive in pink pajama pants, a worn out rock t-shirt, and socks. But he clicks his tongue, shakes his head, and reaches for a form.

"Name?"

"Bonnibel Becke."

He pauses, holding his breath, and she knows he recognizes the name. He didn't recognize her before, but she remembers him from that day. He glances up at her before writing her name down. "Can you show me a US state or national-issued ID?"

Bonnibel starts digging in her shoulder bag.

"Murray, get your fat ass back here and let me out!" Marceline's muffled voice calls from behind the door. Bonnie can't help but chuckle. She hands the officer her passport.

"Hmm. Okay, here's that back. If you could fill out these forms, then just come back and pay the dollar amount on the bottom, that'll be it. In the meantime, I'll take Mar—ah, Ms. Abadeer—her forms for the state and you can be on your way," Officer Murray says. He opens the door to the back—Bonnie hears Marcy moaning, just moaning nothing specific—and disappears behind it. So Bonnibel takes a seat in the lobby. Before she gets started, she sends a text to El now that the sun is up so she doesn't worry. She yawns, then sets to work.

"Murray, where you been?" Marceline groans. He stands right by the head of her bench, on the other side of the bars of course, with a clipboard.

"Fill these out, Marce," he says, holding the clipboard out, his arm reaching through the bars. "And don't you come back here," he adds.

Marceline furrows her brow at him, but she reaches out and takes the clipboard.

Several minutes later, Murray returns with Marceline's forms Bonnibel finishes her own. She briefly calls Keila: "Okay, okay so you got the doctor? And what did he say? Mhm. Okay. All right, I'll look after her. I'll text you later today. Oh, and Keila…? I… I just want to say I'm sorry. For what those guys said at the festival… Mm. Right. Of course. See you later." Hanging up, she walks up to the desk.

"Is it okay if I write a check, sir?" Bonnibel asks Officer Murray.

"That's just fine, Ms. Becke," he replies. "Between you and me," he adds conspiratorially, "I suspect you'll be getting this money back." As he takes her check and staples everything together, he sighs. "Damn Abadeer. Don't know what kind of man sends a private militia after his own child, let alone a bunch of other harmless kids. Stoned maybe, but damn. Don't care what you think o' war, that man's gone and embarrassed the whole county, and he'll know it soon enough, no matter how many benefit dinners he throws."

Bonnie just nods, trying to avoid anything too political in a police station.

"Well," Murray says, standing his wide girth up. "In any case, them newspaper and blogosphere types have probably covered it all quite thoroughly. I expect we'll see something in the paper today." Bonnie shifts from foot to foot. Murray laughs. "All right, all right, come on. I think she'll need your help getting out of here." He opens the door and calls, "Marceline! Get your sorry ass up, your chariot has arrived!"

"Murray! Murray you sick little tired fat—" Marceline stops, her cocky smile falling off her bruised face. Bonnibel, in pajamas, follows Murray into her field of vision. Marcy tries to sit up quickly, but mainly manages to fall off the bench. "Ow."

"Marcy!" Bonnibel squeaks. Murray quickly unlocks the cell. Bonnie rushes to Marcy's side, gently lying her hands on her arm and shoulder. "Marcy, come on, let me look at you," Bonnie says.

Marceline turns pink as she slowly pushes herself up to kneeling. Seeing her face, Bonnie is filled with a mix of empathy for her wounds and mirth at her reddening skin. Seeing this mix on Bonnibel's face, Marceline feels herself turn redder from head to toe. Not knowing what else to do, she glares at Murray, who quickly leaves, chuckling to himself.

"Come on," Bonnibel says, facing Marceline. "Let's go."

Marceline grimaces with every step, despite leaning heavily on Bonnie's shoulders. When they exit the station, the sun just starting to come over the nearby trees, Bonnibel rushes off to drive—My car? Marcy wonders—as close to the doors as possible. She gets out again, helping Marceline sit in the passenger seat and lean the seat back.

"Okay," Bonnie says a little too cheerfully. "So here's what I know: Keila got a hold of your doctor at the student health center. He can see you first thing tomorrow. So we can drive straight back to the city now, or… Ooo is a lot closer. We can go to my house. Pepper can help us get you patched up for the day, we can rest some, then head back tonight. Which would you prefer?"

"Bonnie," Marcy breathes, looking up at her. "How…?" She can't believe she's here, after a month of nothing, no contact at all. Marceline looks away, feeling her eyes start to sting. Quickly, she lifts an arm up, wiping at them.

"Marcy," Bonnie gasps, "Are you crying?"

"No!" Marceline cries. Bonnie giggles sympathetically. As she reaches out, Marcy speaks abruptly. "Just-just-let's just go to your place or whatever, just drive!"

Bonnibel stays her hand. She smiles to herself, but obeys. As they turn out of the parking lot, Marcy's hand grips the door handle with all her remaining might, and she's convinced this is the day she will die.

Marceline slowly lowers herself to the bed in Bonnibel's room. As she settles onto the mattress, she sighs and carefully moves her wet hair from beneath her to her side. Out in the hall, she hears Bonnie's footsteps, knocking on the bathroom door. "Marcy?" Bonnie calls.

"In here," Marceline replies. She looks over just as Bonnie opens the bedroom door. Bonnibel pauses there, staring at her. Marcy can't help but blush again, seeing a pretty young woman in a sundress stare at her. "Dude, stop it."

Bonnibel shakes her head, smiles. "Sorry," she says, closing the door behind her. She sets a steaming mug down on the bedside table. "Here, Pepper made tea for you."

"He didn't look too pleased to see me," Marceline comments, slowly reaching for the hot mug then hugging it to her chest.

"To be fair," Bonnibel says, walking around to the other side of the bed and sitting down, "He wasn't that pleased to see me either. Pepper just likes having a plan, keeping a regular schedule. Unannounced guests are not usually in any day's plan."

Marcy smiles, taking long sips of her tea.

"I'm glad that bathrobe fit you after all," Bonnie comments, leaning on an arm, closer to Marcy. "It would have been a shame if it was too small for you."

"Oh, would it?" Marcy says, smiling. She wiggles her eyebrows a couple times at Bonnie, but Bonnibel just sticks her tongue out at her.

"Let me open the windows," she says, standing again. "It's really quite a lovely day outside." Dappled light and the smell of the apple tree in the back yard suddenly surrounds Marceline. Bonnibel returns, sitting on the bed, and Marceline places the now empty mug back on the little table. Although she tries not to move too much, she reaches out toward Bonnibel's hand. At first, Marcy isn't sure how this act will be received, but much to her surprise, Bonnibel takes hold of her hand and squeezes.

"I'm sorry, Marceline," Bonnibel whispers. Her blue eyes look up. Marcy tries to hide a shiver. "I mean, all of this… I don't much care for politics. I suppose if I had to deal with it, I could, but I'd much rather be making sweet science." She giggles nervously, but Marcy keeps her eyes on her. "But that isn't the point. That's not the point at all," Bonnie continues. "I think… I was afraid. Like I was afraid before. Really, back in high school, I think I was afraid even then. Of you."

"Me?" Marcy says, smiling widely. "Little ol' me?"

"Yes, you," Bonnie says. Her fingers start to lightly caress the back of Marceline's hand, her wrist, her forearm. "I dated some after we, well you know, but just guys. Nothing really stuck. And then during spring break…"

Marceline bends her elbow, gently taking hold of Bonnibel's arm. It's all she can think to do to reassure given her current state.

Bonnibel breathes, shakily. But she squares her shoulders and continues calmly. "While fear can be informative, I should not have allowed myself to be controlled by it."

Next thing Marcy knows, Bonnibel is lying down on the bed beside her, turning to face her, giving her a look that sends electricity through her body and back, and she can't help it but she feels her eyebrows jump up her forehead and her jaw slacken and her arm literally jumps when Bonnie touches her again.

"The truth is…" Bonnie whispers. "I… I really care about you, Marceline. A lot more than I realized."

Clearly, Marceline thinks, knowing full well that she had to have hotwired her car and must have driven all night long. Not to mention the fact that she is currently sidling closer to Marceline. Who is only wearing a bathrobe. On a bed.

"I'm just… so sorry it took me so long to figure myself out," Bonnibel continues, her breath on Marceline's ear. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you when I guess I could have been, with all this, this…"

"I think you kind of," Marcy starts, but she has to pause, swallow. "I think you made up for it, what with driving hundreds of miles and getting me out of jail so I don't have to lie on a cold bench in pain." She smiles over at Bonnibel, and when Bonnie smiles back it just makes Marcy want to dance, shout, and sing.

Ever so sweetly, Bonnibel nudges Marceline's chin toward her with the back of her hand. For a second, they remain there, breathing each other with their lips less than an inch apart. Then Bonnie closes her eyes, leans forward.

Marceline breathes in deep and sighs as she kisses Bonnibel again. She had thought she missed these lips, but oh, she had no idea she missed Bonnie this much. And Bonnie's kissing her hard, sucking on her lip, hands holding her face and carding through her hair. Bonnie moans, and Marcy can't help but smile into her kisses because, God that moan! For her part, Marceline's not actually entirely aware of what she's doing for Bonnie, being largely immobile, but whatever it is she hopes it happens again. That is, until:

"Bonnie, Bon, back. Back? Back, Back, BACK!" Marceline cries out.

"Sorry!" Bonnibel murmurs, quickly shifting her weight off of Marceline. "Sorry, I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," Marcy says, taking a few breaths. She looks back at Bonnie, who, seeing her smile, carefully lays her head on Marcy's shoulder. It hurts a little, but Marceline doesn't tell her. Instead, she lazily closes her eyes, letting peaceful sleep wash over her.

Marceline sleeps the entire day, waking just for a meal before they drive back to the U. She sleeps through the entire drive, too. Bonnibel half carries her into her apartment and stays with her there overnight.

When the doctor comes in to the student clinic room where they sit the next morning—Bonnie on a little chair, Marceline on the examination table—he sighs in relief, saying her back is much better than he feared. Her black eye and scabbed knuckles, on the other hand, could stand to improve.

Bonnibel leads the way into the auditorium, marveling at the size and grandeur of it as Guy, Keila, Bongo/Augustus, Jake, and Lady follow her as she bolts around the crowd for the best seats. Jake gest a dirty look from one of the old men in attendance, so he quickly shoves his hors d'oeurvre in his mouth and wipes his hand off on his suit jacket. "Man, you'd think a guy can't eat his cracker and cheese and shrimp thingie in peace," he complains.

"Jake, this way!" Lady whispers, her shimmering multi-colored cocktail dress quickly bringing Jake to her side.

"What's the first song?" Guy asks, pulling at his tie and sitting down between Keila and Bonnie.

Keila gives him a warning look as she glances between him and Bonnibel. "Hell, I dunno, why are you asking me?"

Bonnie holds up her program. "Let's see… Geez, these lights aren't that bright, why do they give us programs anyway?"

"Senior Recital - Voice, Miss Marceline Abadeer, Class of—" Guy reads over Bonnie's shoulder until the lights lower further, and the auditorium's attendees find their seats.

"There are a lot of people here," Bongo whispers. "I mean, I had a lot of people show up for my senior recital on Monday, but this is kind of intense."

"Yeah, who are all these people?" Jake says. Lady shushes him. "No seriously, you never get this many people for a viola recital!"

Bonnibel bites her lip, eyes searching for the stage lights. It's been a rough week. She made very effort she could to help Marceline get to daily doctor's appointments, all so she could stand up straight for this performance at the end of the week. With orders to rest as much as possible, Marceline begrudgingly accepted Bonnie's aid around the apartment, too, especially in the Schwable department. But she also had her own finals to study for and take, and as much as she prides herself on her prowess in the sciences, Bonnie feels rather like her tests chewed her up and spat her out. Plus, she had to see off the solar-car club's team headed for Geneva. And, to be honest, she's spent a few bathroom visits mildly freaking out about all this news from Vandalism Records Marcy mentioned. So despite having seen Marceline a great deal this week, Bonnibel hasn't a clue what to expect.

The stage lights rise on a piano, a pianist, and her page-turner. Quickly, Bonnie opens her program and scans for the title of the first piece. "Ständchen, R. Strauss," she whispers. Around her, people start clapping and she looks up. From stage left, walking tall and confident, comes Marceline. Bonnie's transfixed.

"Whoa!" scream-whispers Jake over his own clapping. "She wore red!"

"Is that important?" Lady whispers back.

"Eh, I don't know about other schools, but here, you're generally supposed to wear all black for your senior recital. I mean, yeah she's still a junior, but it is her absolute last voice major stuff and—"

"Shhh!" someone behind Jake hisses.

"Pardon me," Jake says loudly at him.

Bonnie smiles, and then returns her gaze to Marceline. God, it's even got a slit by the leg, Bonnie thinks, licking her lips and eyeing the neckline of the gorgeous dress.

As the applause dies down, the pianist readies herself. She tinkles away at the keys, and suddenly the most shocking thing happens.

Marceline sings.

Not one person in Bonnie's row manages to keep their mouths closed.

Oh…

My…

God… Bonnibel thinks. She does opera. She can do opera. In German.

It's a relatively short song. The entire auditorium breaks into applause immediately. Bonnie sees Marceline scan the crowd, then smile brightly down at her row. When Bonnibel looks over, she sees the same mesmerized look on all of Marcy's friends. Then, just as suddenly, the clapping stops, and Marceline's singing again. In Italian.

I am going to die of arousal. Beside the tomb of my parents and brother, my grave will read: 'Here lies Bonnibel Becke, who died listening to a girl sing in Italian!'

The Italian one is long. Very long. Bonnibel could not care less. Still, when Marceline finally finishes, she darts her eyes down at her program again. She manages to see Debussy is next, but she misses the title and looks up quickly. Whatever it is, Bonnibel feels like she's dying blissfully at the sound of it. When the piece is over, she finds herself strangely sad. The fact that this music is affecting her at all confuses Bonnibel. Meanwhile, Jake and Bongo hoot and holler appreciation.

The lights dim for several minutes, and the auditorium fills with the sound of hushed voices. When the lights rise again, Marceline isn't there. And there's a different pianist. Actually, the lighting seems different.

"What are you doing the rest of your life?" Marceline sings, slow and powerful, the pianist watching her carefully for tempo cues.

"Holy shit, it's jazz!" Jake whispers-shrieks delightedly, ignoring the shushing man behind him.

"I have only one request of your life… that you spend it with me…"

"Did you know she could sing that low?" Guy whispers—actually whispers—to Keila.

"Nope."

"All the seasons and times of your days… All the liquors and dives of your days…"

Bonnibel could swear Marcy's dark eyes hit her then, daring her to deny their gaze. She sits up, leaning forward even, feeling, for every bit of logic in her brain, twice as much lost in some new transcendental place. Marceline sings song after song, easily shifting from one subtype of jazz singing to another, until finally ending on Gershwin's "Summertime," when the pianist and page-turner step off stage, leaving just Marceline clapping out a rhythm that miraculously has the whole auditorium audibly toe-tapping.

The moment the last note is sung, the audience stands as one, clapping enthusiastically. While Jake and Bongo resort to more hollering, many more behind them shout for more. Marceline smiles, feigning modesty—Bonnibel laughingly recognizes the ruse—and steps away from the stage. But he clapping continues.

"Hey," Guy says. "Where'd Keila go?"

Marceline comes back out on stage, bows again, and exits. Still, the attendees beg for more. Bonnibel pulls and tucks her dress, hoping she looks all right. Then someone else comes out on stage.

"Keila?" Bongo exclaims, then slaps his hand over his mouth. The crowd watches curiously as she sets up two guitar stands, places an electric guitar in one and a bass in the other, plugs them in and checks the tuning. Finally, she nods off stage. As soon as Marceline steps back on stage, the crowd begins clapping again, but they quickly settle when she raises her hand, smiling at them all.

"Thank you," Marceline says. "Thank you all. Really, thank you. So, as some of you may know, it is traditional for a music major to perform an encore at their final recital, a piece of their choosing that holds some personal meaning for them, and I would be wont to ignore such a time honored tradition."

The row of Marcy's friends snickers. Somewhere in the back, someone shrieks, "I LOVE YOU MARCELINE!"

Marceline blinks in surprise, while Bonnibel just hides her face in shame. Ellen, no.

"And I love you, too, I suppose," Marcy says with a smile, and the auditorium chuckles with her.

"Anyway," she continues, casually lifting the bass guitar and arranging it into a comfortable position. Although she keeps up appearances, Bonnie grimaces, remembering how much Marceline groaned at the doctor's office just this morning. "I've asked my dear friend, Keila, who is not a student here at the U, to accompany me. This is a song I would hope you've all heard before, even if it isn't the usual fare in this hall. It's one of the very first songs I ever learned to sing, and tonight I'd like to dedicate it to someone very special. You know who you are." The crowd chuckles along, but Bonnibel gulps, feeling even more self-conscious. "The son is titled, 'Something,' by The Beatles."

The crowd claps again, and anyone who wasn't already sitting does so now. Without a drummer, Marceline and Keila just watch each other, nodding off a tempo to each other, until Keila mocks a drum, scatting, "Bumpa-da Bumpa-da Bum!" Instead of her guitar taking the lead and playing the famous riff, however, Marcy's bass plays, portraying a depth Bonnie had imagined, having rarely heard Marceline play her favorite instrument.

"Something in the way she moves

Attracts me like no other lover

Something in the way she woos me

I don't want to leave her now

You know I believe and how…

"Somewhere in her smile she knows

That I don't need no other lover

Something in her style that shows me

I don't want to leave her now

You know I believe and how…"

Keila, her feet banging out the drum section, starts singing harmony, and Bonnie grabs onto both arm rests beside her seat when Marceline, her eyebrows knit together apologetically but her mouth smiling in delight, looks right at her.

"You're asking me, will my love grow?

I don't know, I don't know!

You stick around now it may show

I don't know, I don't know!"

They even reworked the guitar solo for bass. Off to Bonnie's side, Lady can be heard squeaking happily, looking back and forth between Marcy and Bonnibel.

"Something in the way she knows

And all I have to do is think of her

Something in the things she shows me

I don't want to leave her now

You know I believe and how…"

And then, a few notes later, the tribute to The Beatles is over, and the audience all but explodes. At the back of the auditorium, a young man working for Vandalism Records stumbles out of the room with his tape recorder like a drunk, determined to find a phone so he can play the cover to his boss immediately, convinced that he's found pure gold.

[I recommend checking out this Youtube channel for some idea of what kind of singing I'm talking about, the singer is a friend of mine… In fact I stole all the song titles from her performances, minus the Beatles of course. Just imagine it's Olivia Olsen: user/ElizabethZitoSings?feature=watch]

"MARCELINE!"

Marceline laughs in delight as her friends run at her in the middle of the post-recital, surrounding her in an enormous hug, nearly knocking over the table of drinks set up for the prestigious guests.

"Ahh, lemme down, lemme down! Hey hey, easy on the back! Dammit, Bongo, let go!"

As they put her down again, Marcy sees Bonnibel walking slowly toward them. Lady, seeing this, quickly shoos the males toward the drinks. Marceline takes a long moment to take in the sight, to make sure she remembers it, and Bonnibel lets her. Her hair is all done up in some fantastic knot worthy of the Lord of the Rings film, while her black dress with lady sleeves but no shoulders moves around her like water. She has to look away when guests approach to shake her hand, but quickly returns her attention to the most important woman to ever look so hot.

"Would have figured you would have worn pink," Marceline comments, trying to hide just how happy she is.

"Oh shut up, you Vampire," Bonnibel mumbles as she steps forward and they hug each other tightly.

"Thanks for coming, Bon."

"Of course!" Bonnibel says. Her fingers play with Marcy's long, flowing hair. Bonnie whispers, "Come with me."

Marceline, still held tight by Bonnibel's embrace, turns her head slightly, her eyes darting around the room. "Bonnie?"

"Please?" Bonnibel whimpers.

She whimpers! But even thought Marceline's fairly certain Bonnie can feel her heart ramming against her chest, she can't resist playing a little more. "You know, I'm supposed to be like… greeting people. They're supposed to be important or something. Like some of these folks donate large sums to the school or whatever. I should really schmooze up and be responsible."

"Marceliiiiine," Bonnie moans quietly, tucking her face into Marcy's neck.

"Uanh!" Marceline moans in response, not so quietly. She realizes that folks are beginning to notice that she's been hugging this girl in black for a rather long time. Let 'em look, she thinks defiantly. All the same, better relocate. "Okay. Yeah."

Bonnie looks up, smiling at Marceline as she pulls away some. She weaves her fingers in between Marceline's and starts walking away from the gathering space. Marcy hums to herself as they walk down the adjacent hallway, feeling like this entire school year has been some kind of crazy miracle that's finally revealed itself to her. Bonnibel starts swinging their hands together.

"So you know that last song was for you, right? ... Whoa!"

Before Marceline knows what hit her, Bonnibel is pressing her lips against her own with so much force that she backs into the wall. In seconds they're messing up each other's hair. Marcy leans her head back against the wall as Bonnie kisses her jaw, her neck, her shoulders. She moves her hands from Bonnie's face to her back, pulling her closer.

"WHAAAAAAAT?"

Marcy and Bonnie look up, back down the hall, both of them smiling drunkenly as Jake, followed by Bongo, points and stares and laughs and claps and hollers.

"Get your own, Jake!" Bonnie shouts back, making Marcy and the boys laugh. Then Keila comes over, visibly scaring them.

"What is this all about? What are you two making a scene about? Oh… Well don't just stand there, you pervs, move! Get! Get! Lady, come help me!"

Marceline and Bonnibel separate, laughing as Keila and Lady chase the boys away from the hallway… and more when Lady sneaks a second peek.

"Let's get out of here, huh?" Marceline laughs. "My place?"

"I'll drive."

"HA! No."

THE END.

[Ha! No, I wouldn't do that to y'all, here's the rest.]

Marceline struggles with the key at her apartment, Bonnibel holds her from behind and kisses her exposed shoulder blades. Open, dammit, open! Marceline thinks, pushing on the door as she tries the key again, never having experienced such desperate need to know a woman. Finally the lock clicks, and the pair lurches forward.

Schwable barks at the pair. Marceline dashes for the closet, kicking off her heels as she goes, pulls out the dog food bag and pours out an inordinate amount in his bowl, glad to keep him busy. When she looks up, Bonnie is smiling at her. Then the strawberry-blonde turns away, meandering toward that bedroom with the amazing view of the city at night. She steps out of her shoes as she goes. Running up behind her, Marceline laughs into Bonnie's ear, hugging her tight from behind and ignoring what protests her own back makes.

As they enter the bedroom and Marceline simultaneously kicks the door closed behind them and gently bumps Bonnibel onto the mattress. She crouches down at the edge of the bed, lightly laying her hands on Bonnie's knees, making sure Bonnie sees that she is not taking a peek too soon. Still, she can't resist playing with her prey a little.

"Do you have any idea what I could do to you?" Marceline says, gently kissing a kneecap.

Bonnie sighs. "Do you have any idea what you've already done to me?"

At that, Marceline just stares, feeling her whole body shiver in delight. Soon she's pulling at her dress, shouting, "Get me outta this!"

Bonnibel giggles uncontrollably, but she sits up and lifts the red dress from Marceline. Suddenly, a lithe woman in lacy, black underwear and bra is crouching before her, and Bonnibel freezes, shocked. It is Marceline, and it's not. Vaguely, she recalls having never seen Marceline in so little as a bathing suit. Marceline sees the look on Bonnie's face and recognizes it for what it is immediately, although she's a little frightened to acknowledge it. Then she remembers what Bonnibel said about fear.

So Marcy smiles back gently, leans forward, and kisses Bonnie, just barely bringing a hand to her cheek. Sure enough, Bonnibel kisses back, even bites her lip, and Marceline opens her mouth. She lets Bonnibel explore a bit before seeking entrance herself. Bonnie happily complies, leaning back as Marceline situates herself on all fours above her.

"Marceline," Bonnibel gasps as Marcy pulls away. She flips her hair so a curtain of black falls on just one side. Looking down at Bonnie, Marceline knows this is exactly what she wants, but she needs to know for certain.

"Do you want this, Bonnibel?" she asks seriously. "You sure you wanna sleep with me?"

Bonnie nods.

"Are you sure?" Marceline insists.

"Yes I'm sure! Now kiss me!"

Marceline smiles, her eyes sparkling, and Bonnibel wonders gleefully what she's gotten herself into. Instead of leaning down to kiss her, however, Marceline wedges her hands under Bonnibel's back and lifts the two of them into a seated position. "First thing's first," she says, straddling Bonnie. "We'll need to undress you." She kisses Bonnie's forehead, raking her fingers up Bonnie's back until they rest just below her shoulders. "Please kiss me."

"So polite," Bonnie whispers, but she leans forward. With Marcy—already taller—sitting on her lap, Bonnibel can't really reach her lips, even as Marceline leans forward to slowly unzip her dress. She settles for Marcy's jaw, her neck, her arms, until Marceline groans.

"Bonnie, please!" She sounds rather desperate, as though Bonnibel's denying her something. Then it hits her that if she just looks forward, she's about level with Marceline's petite breasts. Ooooohhh my god.

With her dress's zipper undone, Bonnibel tugs her sleeves off, letting the top of the dress fall away from her. As she watches Marceline take in the spectacle—Bonnibel knows perfectly well that she has filled out nicely since she was thirteen—she lifts her hands to Marceline's dainty peaks. Almost immediately, Marceline is biting her lip, arching her back, shaking her head. She moans, strangled against her teeth, as Bonnibel starts to massage her, leaning her forehead against Marcy's sternum. There, she can feel Marcy's heartbeat echo through her.

Marceline reaches around her own back. Bonnibel feels the tension of the bra loosen under her palms. "Please," whispers Marcy, shrugging away the garment. "Please Bonnie?" Her calloused fingers weave into Bonnibel's up-do, cradling her skull and pulling her closer. Bonnie, grateful for some instruction about what to do in the midst of this new experience, hums. She kisses her jaw again, letting Marcy's bra fall. However, before she can fling it away, Bonnibel gasps sharply at the touch of two hands sliding under her own strapless bra, cupping her. Her head falls forward against Marceline's sternum, jaw slack. Marceline pecks the top of her head, nuzzles her face into Bonnie's hair.

Marceline stops. Bonnibel looks up to see Marcy smiling, tilt her head, raven hair flowing around her. She takes hold of Bonnibel's jaw and pulls her face to the left. Bonnibel looks into her eyes, brows knitting together. Biting her lip, Bonnie moves her hands to Marcy's sides, caressing her. What she wants to do is hold tight to her because she's afraid again. "I haven't done this before," she says, so close that her lips brush against Marcy's nipple as she speaks.

"You say that," Marcy breathes, "like it's a bad thing, Bonnibel." She hasn't finished speaking, but seeing the tenderness on her face—such a beautiful expression Bonnie doubts she has ever seen on Marceline's face before—Bonnie can't resist licking at the little bud in front of her. Gasping, Marcy continues, "That's not… the point at all, Bon. The point—aah!—is it's you and me." Her tone changes, "You don't take much convincing."

"Mmm," Bonnibel moans, sucking away. She does cling tightly to Marceline now, desperate to feel her thrash against her skin. Hands tug at her strapless bra, but Bonnibel holds them together, too tight for the garment to fall away. Marcy, her legs and torso squirming, clutches Bonnie's head and neck, suddenly pushes them down to the bed again. A smacking noise—Bonnie's lips are pulled away from the cherished nipple. Marcy's tossed their bras across the room and now shimmies herself out of her underwear. Although Bonnibel wants to pause, to look and explore, Marceline dashes forward, pressing their lips together with unrelenting urgency. Her energy seeps into Bonnie.

They surge into each other, their bodies writhing, not so interested in stimulating each other as simply touching as much of each other as physically possible at any given moment. Marceline laughs, bright and clear and joyous, like nothing Bonnibel's heard before. She fights to lay kisses across the skin of Marceline's torso, breasts, and neck, even as Marceline fights to stay on top where she can look and touch all she can as much as she pleases.

Bonnibel gasps, freezing as her back arches against something more specific than their wild frenzy. She looks down to take account of where all participating body parts are located. Marceline looks up at her curiously, lips closed over a nipple while her hand gently twists the other. Yet as invigorating as those touches are, Bonnibel doesn't think that's what grabbed her attention.

Noticing Bonnibel's trembling confusion, Marceline lifts her head, licking once more as she departs. She leans over onto her side, keeping her hand in place. Thankfully, Bonnie thinks. By moving, however, Bonnibel can now see past Marcy's shoulders, can see where her other hand is.

"Oh," Bonnibel squeaks. Marceline smiles dangerously this time, letting her fingers gently tug at Bonnibel's pubic hair, hidden underneath the bikini bottom still present. She flips her hair to the side, replaces her lips against Bonnibel's other nipple—thus relocating the hand that was there to hold Bonnie's shoulder—and lets Bonnibel watch. Bonnie gasps, "Marcy!"

"Mmhmmm?" Fingers edge around Bonnibel's vulva, toying with unseen curls, leaving Bonnibel in eager tension. Marceline, still rolled on her side, curls closer until her body presses against Bonnie's side. She cradle's Bonnie's waist and finally rubs her fingers against Bonnibel's wet core.

"M-Marce!" Bonnie whimpers.

"What is it?" Marceline says, speaking against Bonnie's breast. Two fingers dip just barely into Bonnibel, retreat, rub the wet against Bonnie's clit. High-pitched whines meet Marceline's ears. She bites, holding the nipple in place as she flicks it with her tongue.

"Ah! Aaahh… Marceline, I…" Bonnie gasps, holding tight to Marceline's head, trying to comb through her hair. That same smell, the one from her shirt, wafts over Bonnie, making her heart race.

"I'm listening." The fingers return to Bonnibel's entrance, reach inside. This time they stay there, still, as Marceline's thumb takes their place rubbing circles around the bundle of nerves above. Bonnie can feel herself clinching and relaxing around Marcy's fingers. She's vaguely aware as well that Marceline's hips sit atop one of her legs, and her leg is becoming wet and sticky.

"Fuck, Marcy!"

"Heh heh… Yes, Princess," Marcy replies. Her fingers curl, pressing against the soft tissue within Bonnibel, slowly start edging in and out.

"Don't… call me that." Bonnibel smiles, loses herself to Marceline, until she's bucking wildly in time with a Marceline's rapid, bass-playing rhythm.

"Bonnibel," Marcy coos. Feeling Bonnie spasm and slowly relax into the afterglow beside her, Marceline crawls up the bed. She lays on her side, her head propped up on Bonnie's shoulder. Her hand, still wet and sticky, traces patterns across Bonnie's abdomen, her shoulders, her cheeks.

Bonnibel turns to Marceline with a look of sweet comprehension. As she curls up against Marcy, clinging to her, she knows that this feeling of comfort and release and freedom is something Marceline has wished to give to her for a long time. She does not know how to thank someone for such a gift so long in the giving.

Marceline, who has lost Bonnie's shoulder as a pillow, swallows hard as Bonnibel wraps around her tightly. Rolling onto her back, she carries Bonnie with her, combing fingers through her hair until the tangled up-do has been straightened out across Bonnie's back. "Hey," she says, lifting her head off the mattress, "Bon, you okay?"

"Mhmm."

They lay together in silence for a time.

"Thank you."

Marceline glances down. She gives Bonnie a squeeze. "Don't mention it. I want to…"

Bonnie hums happily.

"Hey Bon?"

"Yes?"

Marceline licks her lips. "I think… I think Vandalism Records is going to offer the Scream Queens a deal. A record deal, I mean. Provided we go on tour first." She continues to card through Bonnie's hair. The repetitive movement feels therapeutic. "I thought… I'd still like to be back at the U next school year. Maybe we won't be able to get that, I don't know, but maybe we can tour just through the summer. My friend, Tuff, he's managing a lot of things for the band, but he wouldn't be able to travel with us since he runs a business so… I wondered if maybe, if you don't have summer plans to build a nuclear reactor or something, if maybe you'd like to come with us?"

Bonnibel hasn't moved since Marcy started speaking, and it's making her nervous.

"Like… you could be the manager in Tuff's absence or something?"

Bonnie shifts, places her hands on either side of Marcy and pushes up. Marceline lets go of her immediately, propping herself up on her elbows as Bonnibel looks down on her. She grins, catching Bonnie's wandering eyes. But she wonders if Bonnie can still hear her heart racing.

"So," Bonnie says, "Are you offering me a job?"

"Um, maybe?"

"You're not sure?"

"Mostly I—" Marcy starts, but finds her throat closing. Oh get over it! she thinks. You have put your fingers inside her, you butt, so just tell her! "I just thought that way we'd be able to see each other this summer and… be together."

Bonnibel thinks for a moment, leaving Marceline to twitch nervously. Then, with a slight, decisive nod, Bonnie lowers her mouth to Marcy's ear.

"Aahh!" Marcy gasps, feeling her body tighten at the touch. As Bonnie's hands stroke down her sides and grab her buttocks, as Bonnie's lips trail across her face until they pull at her own, Marceline struggles to pay attention to what she had just been saying. "Is that a—" Bonnie kisses her deeply. "A no, then?" Marceline shudders, feeling Bonnie position a thigh between her legs. She rolls her hips against it instinctively, confused and delighted by the young woman above her.

Bonnibel's hands, still holding on to Marcy's hips, encourage her to rub against Bonnie's thigh again. Marcy cries out, bites her lip.

"Are we together?" Bonnibel whispers, shifting her weight in time with Marceline. She lifts one of her hands up to Marcy's chest.

"Uhn! I…" Marcy breathes. "Seems like it."

"Marcy," Bonnie groans against her neck, her hands massaging Marcy roughly. "Are we?"

Marceline suspects Bonnie's movements are rough because of inexperience, but she really doesn't care. This feels amazing. Sparks course through her body, massing at her toes, her lower abdomen, and the base of her neck. "Fuck yeah, we are!"

"If we are," Bonnie starts. Marcy swears under her breath as Bonnie's hands force her to move faster. "Then we're responsible for each other. And to each other. That's how relationships work."

"Uh-huh," Marcy breathes, trying to pay attention despite the rabid energy flashing within her.

"And if I'm responsible to you—to care about you and… and love you," Bonnibel continues.

"Bonniiiiiiiie!"

"Then other things have to fall to the wayside," Bonnie says. Suddenly, she stops stimulating Marceline, and the black-haired woman groans in protest. "Responsibility demands sacrifice," she says. She looks Marcy in the eye, and despite her aggravation, Marcy pays close attention now.

"So that's a yes? You'll come?"

Bonnie smiles. "I'll go with you, Marcy."

Marcy laughs triumphantly, her body bucking in excitement.

"The question is how to make you come," Bonnie says.

Whoa, Marcy thinks. But she smiles confidently up at Bonnibel, even as her body trembles. "Want a hint?"

Bonnie smiles politely.

Marcy wraps her arms around Bonnie's neck, kissing her lips, thrusting her tongue into Bonnie's mouth with reckless appetite. When they finally pull apart, Bonnie's lips are swollen, red as a ripe strawberry. With a lick of her lips and an arched brow, Marcy says, "Take those lips and that tongue and get between my legs."

17

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