Gratification
A/N: This is the first time I've written something in pastiche like this, and as this was written in the wee hours of the morning, I'd be obliged if y'all would leave a comment below. As always, Adventure Time belongs to the esteemed Pendleton Ward.
They wait too long. It is wrong to have waited that long, years of aching until atoms and bodies and souls reconnected in a symbiosis of pink and deepest black.
Marceline wants to bury her hands into that damnably bright mane of pink and press her forehead against hers simply to feel her breath ghosting against her lips.
Bubblegum wraps her arms around her waist and pulls her in tight, burying her lips in her neck. She silently vows never to let her go again.
And she doesn't.
That is enough, for now.
After the fervor has died down, they rest, Marceline's hand idly toying with her hair. Bubblegum breaks the silence: "On that day with the Door Lord," she says, "you never finished your first song. You left off in the middle of a sentence. What were you going to say?"
Marceline rolls over, meets her eyes. "If that's all you were thinking about," she wisecracks, "I must be losing my touch."
Bubblegum blushes, a deceivingly innocent expression for one who is not afraid of taking what she wants. She shrugs it off. "You dodged the question." She moves closer to Marceline, plants a soft kiss on her lips.
Marceline sighs, lying back. "If you thought the first part of the song was distasteful, you'd have flipped out at the rest." Softly, she began to sing.
"Gonna drink the red from your pretty pink face, Gonna kiss your candy lips and see how you taste," she sings, glancing out of the corner of her eye for Bubblegum's reaction.
She couldn't help herself. Bubblegum glances at her lover through her eyelashes. "And do you like how those lips taste?" she asks in a sultry voice.
"Oh, do I," Marceline laughs, and then her lips are on hers again.
That is enough, for now.
It doesn't last forever.
Barely a day goes by, now, without some petty dispute or argument. More often than not, it is Finn caught between the two of them, the unfortunate go-between in an unfortunate turn of events. He never complains, but then, he never does [trooper that he is].
It should make Marceline feel bad, but it doesn't.
She has come to relish these little confrontations. It sparks a tingle, a tiny nebula under her cold skin that has been missing between them for longer than she could stand. It is all she has, and all that she can push for. [Secretly, she doesn't want to ask for more–it would only acknowledge there was a problem, if only to herself.]
These tiny wars.
That is enough, for now.
Twilight has always been their time, a halfway point between the ending of Bubblegum's time and the beginning of Marceline's. The fading sunlight glances off of the glistening trees and paints a faded gold in the air. In Ooo, this time of day is beautiful.
They lie on the hilltop grass, hair mingling, skin touching. Marceline ghosts her lips over the tender skin of her neck, smiling softly at Bubblegum's shiver. Bubblegum sighs contentedly, her warm breath stiffing Marceline's hair.
"I love you," she says quietly. Marceline pull back, meets her eyes.
"Do you mean that?" the Vampire Queen asks, a raw, vulnerable look in her garnet eyes. She is shaking, ever so slightly. Bubblegum wonders, off-hand, how many times she had heard that phrase broken.
"Of course I do," she murmurs, sit ting up to kiss her.
Marceline kisses her back fiercely, hands twining into her hair. She rests her forehead against Bubblegum's. "I love you," she breathes.
That is enough, for now.
It is rapidly becoming a cycle. They fight, they make up, they fight again. Marceline plans on changing that. She lies awake in her bedroom with the curtains drawn, doing the vampiric equivalent of staying up late.
She mulls over the idea of tying herself to this mortal, of the eventual heartbreak and sorrow it will bring. But she is, after all, still a teenager, and she sees no ending yet to this story.
Her fingers trace restlessly over the surface of a small, velvet-covered box with a very special ring encapsulated inside.
She had asked Finn to help her find it. Together, they had trawled through countless dungeons to find the perfect ring. It suited Bubblegum; a pale gold band set with a simple blue stone the exact shade of her eyes.
Marceline hopes fervently that she will say yes.
When she finally gathers up the courage to ask her, her response is more than she could ever have expected.
When she gets down on one knee, half of the Candy People in the room freeze, and BMO, who came to watch along with Finn and Jake, audibly squeals. Peppermint Butler stands quietly to the side, smiling.
Marceline says the time-honored words, heart thumping madly in her ears.
"Bonnibel Bubblegum," she whispers, "will you marry me?"
Bubblegum throws herself on Marceline, wrapping her arms around her. The princess chokes out a heartfelt "Yes" through a flood of happycrying. Peppermint Butler leads a round of applause as they kiss, hands pounding out a storm of approval.
Bubblegum smiles against her lips and she is laughing, marveling at this incredible woman in her arms and the amazing people around her.
That is enough, for now.
One of the perks of being made out of bubblegum is that one never wakes up with morning breath.
These are the thoughts of Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum as she lies in some halfway point between sleep and wakefulness. Marceline lies curled up next to her, one arm flung across her waist. The vampire murmurs softly in her sleep and nuzzles closer. On reflex, Bubblegum's arms tighten around her and she softly traces the fine structures of her face. She presses a gently kiss to her spouse's cheeks, breathing in the subtle scent of her hair.
This is a new concept for her, to be tied irrevocably to one person. It is a beautiful, terrifying thought.
Bubblegum smiles up at the ceiling, her arms wrapped firmly around Marceline. She has never felt more certain about something than this.
She closes her eyes and silently vows never to let go of this one person, for however long she's got left.
That is enough, for now.
Marceline reaches up and gently traces the lines of Bubblegum's face. Twenty years have passed in a blaze of glory. Bubblegum is forty-eight and Marceline is as young as ever. There are wrinkles marking her pink skin, lending her a wistful look. There is sorrow in Bubblegum's eyes as she sees the telltale folds of age graven on her face. The pain is mirrored on Marceline's face as a terrifying reality draws nearer.
Bubblegum is becoming older by the day, and Marceline doesn't age a bit.
She would if she could, for her.
They decide to go on an adventure. A whirlwind expedition of Ooo, rediscovering its wild corners and niches before it's too late. Finn and Jake come along too, the former leaving behind a wife and two children, the latter leaving behind a wife, children, and grandchildren. It is almost like old times.
It is a slow and exquisite torture, watching her die.
Marceline tries to push away the looming fear and focus on the feeling of wind in her hair and bubblegum's arms around her. She can sense her doing the same, but neither of them speak.
That is enough, for now.
Queen Bonnibel Bubblegum dies on the longest night of the year. She died well, the right way, in her bedroom with those she loved around her.
Finn buries his head in his hands and sobs as Peppermint Butler closes her eyes for the last time. Marceline watches numbly as her skin fades from pale pink to faded rose. Memories of Bubblegum laughing, dancing, kissing her, flash behind her eyes. She stands abruptly and leaves the room.
The funeral is held at twilight, by her request. Marceline can't stay for all of it, much less cast a handful of cocoa soil on her coffin. Her headstone reads, "Queen Bonnibel Bubblegum. A Queen, a Wife, and a Friend. She will be missed."
Marceline returns to her grave days later, drunk on tears and cradling her worn axe bass.
She plays for her all of her songs, singing them in a cracked, time-worn voice. She leans against the cold, hard gravestone and cries, memories replaying endlessly in her head. On the inside of her skull, Bubblegum laughs and turns away.
The voices build to a crescendo, climbing higher and higher, blurring into a maelstrom of loss.
She screams at the sky, crying her loss to the deaf stars. The moon flames coldly on; the stars still glimmer. It doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore.
She is coming, Bonnie, shaking hands and unsteady heart.
There is only a momentary pain as the stake pierces her undead flesh, then a quiet sense of peace.
As she goes gently into that good night, Marceline smiles. The scent of freshly tilled earth and morning dew mingle in the air and her last sight on Earth is a star, winking down on her fading eyes in a familiar shade of blue.
Marceline Abadeer dies on the dawn after the longest night of the year, a stake through her wild vampire heart.
It won't be long now.
That is enough, for now.
They have become the stuff of legends.
When the wind blows and rain lashes the hills of Ooo, the inhabitants of that bright and sparkling land tell themselves that Marceline grows angry in her slumber. When a child is deemed a prodigy, she is declared to be the next Princess Bubblegum. Likewise, if ever there is a brave, intrepid youth searching for something new, they would say that Finn the Human lives again.
They have become gods in their own right, all of them.
Death, now out of his cowboy phase and now deep into the grunge look, has a particular device in his hoary collection. This mechanism allows him to see the presence or spirit of those in his realm and those who have chosen to go through to a newer world [after all, what is the Underworld but a place of waiting?].
On slow days [happening more and more often, without faithful Peppermint Butler to visit him], he takes out the device, brushes off the dust, and peers into its cloudy innards, seeking two bright sparks he knows well.
They are well, as well as the shades of a vampire and a princess could ever be, and moving into this realm now is the last of the humans [waiting for an old friend who still has a bit of stretch in his old limbs]. They are thriving in this brighter world, far better than this mundane, dull plane peopled with mere beings and gods.
They cling fiercely to each other, these two sparks, and they combine their warmth into a blazing conflagration of black and brightest pink. Nothing, not death nor life nor sloom nor strife, will ever, ever tear them apart.
And that is enough.
For now.
A/N: So that happened. Hope y'all liked that bit of pastiche, and let me know what you thought in a comment below!