The sun is filtered through the blinds and it creates the illusion that everything is pretty. Gumball has this itch. An itch to create an illusion, to create a mimicry of grandeur. It's the the reliance of the town that pushes him to throw together a party, something that would bear semblance to a communal gathering. He calls in the best to decorate and cater, because he's Prince Gumball and that's what's expected.
The walls whisper with an excited flurry of plans. Gumball sighs because he's more than sure it will be a duplicate of every other party he's thrown. It's dismal really, the dull chatter and Fionna's untimely pining. He wears a contrived smile before leaving his room because that's all he knows how to do.
/
To say Marshall Lee wasn't aesthetically pleasing would be a lie. Prince Gumball probably had a thing for mussed black hair and pinkpink lips that pulled back to reveal gleaming canines, but that was speculation really. He nearly dismantled the gathering though, due to Marshall's practiced flippancy.
Marshall leaned against the beige of the wall, a stark contrast to his leather jacket and inky hair. Gumball was seething and didn't care for Fionna's tale of transcendency at the moment. He put an abrupt end to his mingling to kick Marshall out, because who even invited him? The smirk on Marshall's face created some sort of insatiable longing and that was unsettling. Once he actually made it to Marshall, Gumball's nose upturned at the pungent smell of something infiltrating the tiny nook they were nestled in.
"What is that," Gumball scowled, pinching the bridge of his nose.
The flicker of a full blown smile turned the itch into a slow burn licking a stripe up his spine.
"Weed," Marshall replied, voice laden with disinterest.
Gumball nearly lost it, pulling Marshall to an unoccupied corridor, hoping to scold him, to do something.
Marshall tugged his wrist from Gumball's grip and wondered why his hands were so soft.
"Jesus, Gumball you always have a stick up your ass. I bet you've never even tried," Marshall's retort was lazily executed but it riled Gumball up enough to satisfy him.
"Of course I haven't, I'm not some sort of...savage," Gumball stumbled over his words, the incessant impulse making him flush.
Here he was staring at the pink of Marshall's lips and the way his cheeks hollowed, swiping his tongue at the blunt. Gumball was stunned, even more so when Marshall has the audacity to blow a ring of smoke into his face. It was fucking ridiculous how pretty Marshall looked while defiling his palace and somehow depriving his guests of a good time.
"Can you stop, please," Gumball's voice came out small, the feeble squeak unwarranted.
He was fairly sure the slow burn was manipulating him because when Marshall came a little bit too close he nearly groaned. When Marshall actually licked the shell of his ear some sort if mangled gasp found itself lodged in his throat.
"Are you sure you don't want to try," Marshall enticed, voice gravelly.
1,2,3 and Gumball's facade fell to the ground, resounding with a dismal clatter.
"I," Gumball stammered, shrinking into Marshall's stature.
"It's okay," Marshall ground out, still hovering near Gumball's ear, "have you heard of shotgunning?"
Gumball wavers, face uncertain, "what's a shotgun?"
He expected surreptitious laughter, humor in Marshall's pupil blown eyes, but he received lackadaisical scrutiny instead.
He sighed a noncommittal sigh before carding a hand through his hair. Marshall hovered in front of Gumball, splaying his fingers on the back of Gumball's neck, wiry with tension.
" 'm gonna show you," Marshall exhaled, wispy rings of smoke permeating Gumball's resolve.
Marshall was met with vacuous silence, so he swiped a calloused thumb along the fullness of Gumball's mouth to pry it open. Gumball's chin wobbled, the scene so inexplicably wrong. He dictates his assent by complying, Marshall's nose brushing his and the sticky sweet smell of drugs making him stiffen.
" 'm gonna blow some smoke into your mouth, and you're gonna try to hold it in then exhale," Marshall's tone went rough around the edges as he elaborated.
Gumball accepts whisper of smoke beating against his lips, it stings the back of his throat, making his eyes tear and go red rimmed. He coughs a few times, his body not used to the intrusion. Marshall claps him on the back and a foreign smile threatens to tug at the corners of his mouth.
"It's always like that the first time," he elucidates, tone reminiscent, "let me try something else."
Gumball's mouth goes slack with consent, his eyes shooting open when he feels the press of Marshall's lips against his. Marshall, whose heavy-lidded gaze could maim baby angels, was pressed against him in the murky darkness of an obscure corridor.
"Breathe it in," he reminds Gumball, fingers tugging at the tame strands of fluorescent hair. The smoke was relentless, but the breathing was routinely as he got the hang of it.
Marshall realized that Gumball's tolerance was low, and that was indicated by the hazy smile thrown his way.
"Holy shit, this 's amazing," Gumball uttered, " ,m not high, at least I don't think I am."
This was punctuated by a giggle and Marshall allowed himself to smile at that. Gumball found it appropriate to ramble, his secrets spilling at his feet in betrayal
"You're really hot though, did you know that? 've been watching you all night," Gumball's leer seeped into his words and Marshall was stunned.
"Gumball, hey, do you want me to kiss you? 's that what you want? 'm gonna kiss you, alright," Marshall's words dripped into Gumball's facade like syrup, his impertinence a constant enigma.
The kiss was lazy, Marshall nipping at Gumball's lip. Gumball blindly groped at Marshall, a moan caught on his tongue.
"Jesus Christ, you're already hard. Is this your first kiss," Marshall punctuated his inquiry by rolling his hips against Gumball's.
The fervor in Gumball's nod made Marshall grin. He was like five seconds away from sticking his hand into Gumball's pants. He would've if it weren't for the impending footsteps, and Fionna's silhouette.
Maybe next time.