Disclaimer: I don't own Adventure Time
Title: Napping Is For the Dead
Summary: (Post 'Stakes') Bonnibel has a kingdom to rule. Marceline is just kind of floating along for the ride. Both of them are really bad with their sleeping habits.
...
The first week is entirely too hectic to describe. As it turns out, wax men can't rule kingdoms, and Bonnibel is not above admitting she runs on cat naps and whatever she can stuff into her mouth between peace settlements, royal degrees, and combing through documents to sign.
Marceline floats in and out of her consciousness, mentally and physically. The newly re-animated corpse of her best friend seems to almost haunt her recaptured castle, never really speaking or stopping. But then, she's too busy to notice otherwise.
After the hump, so to speak, things start filtering in. Little things; forgotten grey strawberries, a sudden decrease in their stock of sunscreen; steaming cups of tea awaiting her when she emerges from the lab, the softest pillows nearby when she takes a few minutes to catch some zzz's.
She never stops to say thank you. Marcy never asks her to. It eats away at her, but she's got every responsibility she had before and then some piled on her shoulders. It's going to take some time.
Bonnibel lets out the groan of a dying animal and flops onto the floor, craning her head in an uncomfortable way to rest it on the back of a windowsill.
She's bushed, but what can you do? She can't possibly sleep at a time like this; is lucky she got the time to wallow in her own self-pity, even.
She becomes aware of Marceline coming into the room, but doesn't acknowledge her until she's right next to her, laying back to see what she sees. "Whatcha lookin' at?"
Bonnibel has never had a way with words around her. "A mid-life crisis."
"Ha!" she barks out a laugh, gently grabbing her hand to pull her to her feet. "Mm, nah. You gotta long life ahead of you yet. I can smell it."
Such a thought both pecks at her curiosity and makes her want to edge away. That's why she's always had such a preference for her company, she reminded herself. A part of her- an instinctual, ancient part of her- was still mildly intimidated by her fangs and claws, even though she knows Marcy will never hurt her.
...Well, no. Marceline has hurt her, and she's hurt Marceline. It was statistically probable that they'll do it again. But that was the way immortality worked, in the end. You hurt and you push and you pull, but you always end up going back to them, because they're all you have.
"You need anything?" She asks as Bonnibel flops onto a couch, utterly exhausted. "Tea?"
"Dude, try more like the most caffeinated cup of coffee you can find."
"Aight. I got you."
Bonnibel squints at her as she floats out of the room, eyes fuzzy. "You aren't gonna lecture me about proper sleeping habits, or whatever?"
"Ha." She repeats, this time with far less enthusiasm. "You know me, Bonnie. Would I do that to you?"
"Yes." She replies bluntly. Marceline says no more.
Later, sipping at a cup of liquid that's more caffeine than actual drink, she'll realize that, despite seeing her doing a little of everything else, she's yet to see Marcy sleeping. Keeping a sort of wakeful vigil with her, perhaps, or simply unwilling to let the past few weeks catch up with her.
"Play something more upbeat, please."
"I dunno, Peebs." Marceline strums a few more soft strings. "This is pretty upbeat, if you ask me."
"No, it's not." Bonnibel rubs the bridge of her nose, finding it hard to focus on her research. "It's a lullaby if I've ever heard one."
"Is it? Ah, well. It's my music, and I'm not in the mood to take suggestions."
"Ulgh." Bonnibel's head met her desk. "I need to stay awake. If I sleep now, I might not wake up."
"They've survived without you before, Bon Bon. They can do it again."
She accepts this with a grunt, but doesn't so much as glance at her bed. "Tell me something. I need to keep my mind active."
"Like what?" She stretches out, guitar hugged comfortably to her belly. "You know everything."
"Tell me something about the world. You know, when you were a little Marcy."
Marceline is quiet. Bonnibel begins to fret she's gone too far (she's never been one for sharing her Little Marcy days), when she finally says; "Okay."
"Really?"
"Sure. Why not? I get to decide what to tell, right?"
"Of course." She answers agreeably. "It's your childhood, after all."
"Was." Marceline corrects, with no real emotion. "'Kay. Give me a second."
She lays back in the air and quietly hums to herself for a bit. She's starting to wonder if, in her addled state, she's forgotten, when finally her eyes open.
"Alright, I got it." Marcy sits up. "We didn't say 'oh my glob.' It was 'oh my god.'"
Bonnibel squints at her, testing the word on her tongue. "God?"
"Yup. They were, like, the creator of everything. People spent their whole lives worshiping them."
"And then what?"
"They went into the afterlife, and kept on keeping on, I guess." Marceline shrugs. "Or they got sent to the underworld, I think? My mom was never all that religious, so I never knew much about it."
"Oh." Bonnibel pondered the grey areas of such an extreme system. "What happened, then?"
"The world blew up. God became glob. We kept on keeping on." She shrugs. "Such is the way of life."
"So god died, then?"
"Nah. They just kinda evolved, I guess. Like everything else."
Eventually she asks Marcy to leave her. She can handle it herself, she tells her. She did this before, and she can do it again. She's grateful for her help, but she wants to be alone.
She can't handle it by herself. Thankfully, that's what Peppermint Butler is for. Much like a demonic mother hen, he swoops in and fusses over her, bringing food and begging she allow herself breaks. It's much different from Marceline's approach, which is to love and care for her through it.
Speaking thereof. "Peps, it's been two weeks. Any word from Marceline?"
"Two weeks is no time at all, for a vampire, m'lady." He answers steadily. "Or for you."
"That's true, but we've all been having a bad month. And you didn't answer my question."
He pauses, humming, before finally nodding. "She's taken residence in the palace gardens. I do believe she's stranded."
Bonnibel jerks and glances out her window. It's bright and sunny out. Never before has she hated the sight of the ball of yellow like she does now.
"She's been there for two days; found cover under a shady tree." He tapped his fingers together nervously. "I fear what will happen when she eventually runs out of snacks."
Bonnibel stands. Her face is deceptively calm. "Show me."
Marceline is awoken by the tugging of a hand around her ankle. She blinks at the pink blob sluggishly. "Wha?"
"Are you kidding me!?" Ah. Her vision cleared. Bonnie. "Do you want to die?"
She finds herself floating a bit too close to the sunlight and pushes backwards like a swimmer with a backstroke. "'M'not gonna die, Bonnie. Was just. You know." She yawned into a grey fist. "Takin' a nap."
"For two days?"
"Hey, don't act like that doesn't sound good to you right now, ms. overworked."
Her lips tighten. "I never said you had to leave the palace, Marcy. Just get out of my way for a day or two. You could've crashed in the basement! Or, I don't know, the spare room I had made just for you?"
"Rooms are for squares."
She pushed a sigh out from between her teeth. "I'm going to go get an umbrella. Don't move."
"Uh, Bonnie?"
"I was being sarcastic. Forget it."
Bonnibel has her float in a pencil position, holding the umbrella over both of their heads. "I can do this myself, you know." She comments, but allows herself to be pulled into the palace with a hand on her foot.
"Marcy," She says gently. "You're delusional."
"Thanks."
Bonnibel finally lets go of her once they're inside. "Okay, Marcy. Be straight with me here."
Marceline giggles in a way that's best described as drunk.
"When was the last time you ate?"
"I dunno." She says, after a pause. "Recently, I guess. I'm not eating any candy people." Her brow furrows. "I haven't, right?"
"Of course not. Being that close to light without any block just made you loopy. Do you have any erasers?"
"Uh..." She shuffles through her sweat pant pocket, pulling out a wrinkled brown bag. Grey erasers fall to the ground with a plopping sound. "I guess I was hungry." She hummed sheepishly.
Bonnibel sighs and turns to a banana guard. "Bring me something red, please. Preferably food." Losing an article of clothing or piece of furniture to the fangs of a vampire would just be another blow to her pride.
"'M sorry." She offers weakly. "I just missed it, you know? Got it back, then; poof! Gone again."
"Marcy, you're rambling." Nevertheless, she takes a hold of her hand in a soothing gesture. "You can still see the sun. You just need some extra protection."
Marceline tugs weakly at her grip. "Leave me. You're busy."
"I am."
"You're stressed."
"I am."
"You need a nap."
"Good glob, I do."
She giggles again. "People used to say gosh instead of god. Did you know that?"
"No, Marcy." She states patiently. "I didn't."
"What would that make it, then? Glosh? Sounds like something your tummy would do."
"Okay." Bonnibel sighs, breathing out of her nose like she's just made a very hard decision. "Once you're done being loopy, we're taking a nap. Neither of us are any good like this."
"Hey, Marceline?"
"Yeah?"
"You asleep?"
Marceline tapped the sides of her head, just above the ears. "My head says yes, but my body says no."
Bonnibel hums, stretching. Marcy had been more than open to sleeping in her room, even if it were floating off to the side. She's under the impression that she thought she needs someone to make sure she doesn't sneak into her lab for science over sleeping.
She's not wrong.
(It's not romantic, okay? Bonnibel remembers Marcy when she was being romantic. This is distinctly more friendly, yet somehow more fulfilling.)
"That's usually the opposite of the problem." She says. "But exhaustion is a funny thing."
"Exhaustion can go take a hike."
No lie there. "So... anymore old curse words you could teach me?"
"Math, Bonnie." Marceline laughs. "You don't even know."
No, she doesn't. "Tell me something."
"Again?"
"Why not?"
"Touche." Marceline says. "Okay, here's one. Magic? Totally not a thing."
"Really?" She sits up, surprised. "How did mages make a living?"
"Mages didn't make a living. They weren't a thing, Bonnie. I'm not kidding; zero magic. Zip. Zippo."
The idea makes her head spin. "Not at all?"
"Well..." She glances away thoughtfully. "Paranormal stuff was a thing, I guess. Beings from other dimensions. So... ghost hunters and time travelers. Yep. That 'bout sums it up."
Bonnibel lays back down and bookmarks it for further investigation. It's too late to properly decipher such a deep concept as the fact that she wouldn't exist, had the old world not ended. Had Marcy not gone through every sort of pain imaginable. She swallows. "Doesn't it get tiring, floating like that? I mean, don't you ever get sick of it?"
"If only it were that easy. I don't even mean to do it, sometimes." Marceline uncrosses and crosses her legs. "It's like having a body-forming layer over you 24-7, only without the comfort."
"Here." Bonnibel pats her bed. "My bed's wicked huge."
"Yeah?" She hesitates. "It won't bother you?"
"You'll start floating once you're asleep, anyway. Besides, if it was going to bother me, I wouldn't have let you in here in the first place."
"True enough." Marcy floats over and lets herself fall onto the bed, one arm hanging off the side. Her eyes go wide. "Dude. This is awesome."
"I know, right?"
She stretched out, wriggling her toes. A trill of happiness escaped her throat. "Bury me in this stuff when I die, okay?"
Bonnibel lets out a morbid laugh. "Ha. You won't be gone anytime soon. They'll have something better by then."
"Yeah. I guess that's true."
They silently turn away from each other.
"Marceline?"
"Yeah?"
"You're not mad at me, are you?"
"Mad?"
"Well, yeah." Bonnibel shrugs. "It's like you said when you were loopy; I gave you the sun, and then I took it away."
"That's not your fault." She dismisses, without a pause. "It was fate."
"Fate?"
"Yeah." She sounds defeated. "Look, you know how history repeats itself? Of course you do. You're smart, and you're pretty old, too. Every time I fight this, I get bitten. One way or another, it happens. I think I'm just cursed to be this way. Forever."
Bonnibel's skin crawled. "Well," She says. "At least you're not alone."
"That's true." Marceline says. "We'll never be rid of each other."
"Or Finn and Jake. As long as there's adventure, they'll be around."
"They're mortal."
"That can be fixed."
"I won't bite them unless they ask me to. And, like, mean it."
"Of course."
"But they probably will."
"Most likely."
"So, I'm screwed."
"No, Marcy. You're not. We just have really loyal friends. Ones who are willing to muddle through immortality with us."
"So, we're both screwed, then?"
"Indeed."
Bonnibel rolls over and falls asleep.
Author's Note: I see to have two main character things I write these days; insomnia and scars. This could technically be a little of both.
(Marcy, even when not loopy, finds it hard not to crack up with a bisexual/pansexual woman she used to be in a relationship is asking her, another bisexual woman, to be straight about anything.)
Finn and Jake will find a way to be immortal, even if it means becoming vampires. That is my ultimate headcanon. They don't wanna leave them alone.
-Mandaree1