Anonymous

44

"Everybody here is so... alternative."

Bonnie made the comment as she looked up and down the queue they were in outside of the concert venue. Everyone had a similar aesthetic to Marceline – all dark clothes and punk rock – and Bonnie felt like she stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe she should've thought about this. Maybe she should've washed the t-shirt that Marceline had given her and worn that instead of her pink dress and cardigan. Oh well. It was too late now.

Marceline snorted with laughter. "Was that a diss?"

"What?" Bonnie blinked in surprise and turned around to look at her, pushing her glasses up her nose. "No, no. Just an observation. I just feel like I stick out like a sore thumb."

"You kind of do, but it's cute," Marceline stuffed her hands in the pockets of her ripped black jeans. She was dressed like she usually was, with her black boots and an oversized grey Metallica t-shirt, and she definitely fit in more than Bonnie did. "I'd offer you my shirt, but I'm not going to walk around in my bra all night."

"I wouldn't complain about that," Bonnie looked her over appreciatively, "but that sight is for my eyes only, so..."

"Bonnibel, what a perv," Marceline mock gasped, "What would the queen say if she heard you being so distasteful?"

"Oh, shut up," Bonnie rolled her eyes, "you know most British people don't actually like the monarchy, right? Well, most young people."

Marceline raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Huh. I didn't actually. You included?"

"I dislike the fact that the taxpayer basically pays for their whole existence," Bonnie said, "and I don't believe that the privilege of power should be inherited. I suppose I'm more neutral, but definitely leaning towards the negative side. There's a lot of historical relevance, but... eh. Are they really necessary in a modern world? But older people like them, I guess."

"Huh," Marceline repeated, eventually shrugging in response, "Well, whatever. You were still being uncharacteristically pervy and I'm sure Old Lizzy would've been disappointed."

Bonnie rolled her eyes again but didn't comment. She just squeezed Marceline's hand and asked, "Are you excited to see the band?"

"Yeah. I've seen them before, they're really good live," Marceline replied, "Went with Keila. She's usually my concert buddy."

"Well, I apologise for snaking in and taking her place with my romantic charms," Bonnie joked, and Marceline just chuckled, "Why did you invite me, though?"

"Like I told you at the time, I figured you'd never been to a concert before," Marceline shrugged, "You admitting you were crushing on me was just convenient, because now it's a romantic first date."

She bumped against her lightly, and Bonnie blushed. Yeah. A first date. She wondered if the entire weekend encompassed the date, or if it was merely the concert. Bonnie hoped for the former, but she supposed that 'date' couldn't describe every future interaction she ever had with Marceline. In a way, she wished she had more experience, just so she knew the social rules and conventions. More specifically, when was it okay for her to kiss Marceline?

She had a feeling – quite a strong feeling, actually – that Marceline wouldn't kiss her first. There was a lot of evidence pointing towards it. For one, the way Marceline had told her that she'd let her set the pace because she wasn't experienced and might not know what she wanted. She hadn't said that last part, but Bonnie felt that it was implied. And for another reason, Marceline continued to surprise her. In the three days since they'd spoken, she'd shown flashes of an even softer side, that Bonnie hadn't known existed. Like when they'd cuddled, and Marceline immediately went to be little spoon without Bonnie having to say anything. Marceline was giving her signs. Signs that she wanted Bonnie to take the control, to make the first move.