Anonymous

40

trigger warning for the second half of this chapter

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Bonnie was relaxing in her garden, sipping on an orange juice, when Marceline stepped out of the back door. She hadn't texted, or called, but Bonnie expected her anyway. She'd already set out the second deck chair for her, just in case.

She'd been thinking about that a lot more. As well as speaking to Lady about it, since she was experienced with this kind of thing. She'd managed to get Jake to be her boyfriend, after all. Because Bonnie was starting to think that maybe there was some kind of possibility that Marceline liked her back. Maybe.

"Googling fish and chip restaurants because she thought you might not have had it for ages, that's not something you do for just a friend. You guys were basically on a date," Lady had told her, "and she cleared up things about that guy, and told you she didn't have a type. She's dropping hints. Plus, poking you and sticking her feet on you and licking your hand? Major flirting. Girl's basically in love."

Bonnie wasn't sure if she believed it. It seemed a little too good to be true, and Marceline had still said she had a type, just that she wasn't restricted to it. That meant that she was less likely to have a crush on Bonnie. Probability and all that. Lady had told her to test the waters and do some legitimate flirting, but Bonnie wasn't sure. Part of her was anxious to do so, because what if Marceline was weirded out?

"Yo, brainlord," Marceline sank down into the second deck chair. "What's up?"

"Well, I was finally trying to get some peace and quiet, but I suppose that plan has flown out of the window upon your arrival," Bonnie turned her head and flashed Marceline a teasing smile, "Want some juice?"

"Sure," Marceline said, "got any vodka I can slip in there?"

Bonnie raised her eyebrows, pausing as she stood up. "Excuse me?"

Upon her stern gaze, Marceline held her hands up in defence, "Joking! Well, if you did, I wouldn't complain about that, but... joking."

"Better be. I don't approve of underage drinking." Bonnie put on what she liked to call her 'teacher face', stern and authoritative, but it was hard to maintain. She laughed. "No, I don't care, do what you like in moderation. Frankly, I think the drinking age being twenty-one over here is ludicrously high. It's eighteen at home. Still don't have any vodka for you, though."

"Dang," Marceline pouted, "just orange juice it is, then."

Bonnie went inside and poured her a glass, sprucing it up a little by adding one of Peter's cocktail umbrellas and a wedge of lime on the side. She took it outside and said, "Here. A mocktail."

Marceline snorted with laughter. "Thanks, nerd. Anyway, I booked the hotel for our little concert trip. Two nights."

Again, Bonnie broke out the stern look. Even though Marceline had a job, she couldn't let her do all of that. "You're letting me put something towards it."

Marceline shook her head, stubborn as ever. "Nope. It's your birthday present."

"The concert tickets and you being my secret homosexual guru were my birthday presents." Bonnie stated matter-of-factly, and Marceline snorted with laughter. "I am going halves on the hotel with you, and petrol money, and also halves on anything else we do there. And I will be treating you to dinner as a thank you."

Marceline laughed. "Cute, but no. Like I said, it's your present."

She heard Lady's voice in her head. She likes you, nobody does that much for their friend's birthday, and it's not like you turned eighteen or a 'big' number. Seventeen hardly warrants all of that. Maybe imaginary Lady had a point.