AT ain't mine, blah blah. And Bubbline is canon! Just a pointless little fluff addition to the finale.

xxx

a cavern shaped like home

(run away with me)

The funny thing about the end of the world was that it was also a beginning. Marceline hadn't lived a thousand years and died twice in the meantime not to learn something as basic as that.

But it still caught her off-guard, to stand fingers-laced with Bonnibel and watch the sun lancing through the clearing clouds and see Simon— Simon— and realize it was over.

Another age, another era consigned to history. How strange to stand at such a precipice, to have time so starkly separated into past and present, before and after.

Before kissing Bonni again had been a hope and a prayer; seeing Simon returned to his true self even fainter than that. But now these things had happened! Events had occurred, time had been marked, and all that had gone before was now back then. Old dreams were new realities, and those old realities were freshly fading memories. Marceline could barely hold onto them, even though but five minutes had passed.

Her life was upended and rewritten, all over again. She vaguely imagined that she would've been used to it by now. Wasn't change the only constant? But then some changes were more jarring than others, and one couldn't survive them intact. The Mushroom Wars had proven that much. Becoming a vampire (twice) had done that, too.

And now, a new horizon. A different sky. Untrodden paths unrolled from beneath her feet, exciting and frightening in turns from their mystery. Even Bonnibel's hand was familiar-turned-foreign— the sugared skin felt the same, soft and smooth and warm compared to Marceline's undead flesh, but the grip had changed. Still possessing the firmness of an authoritative head and steeled spine, but…

Softer, now. Gentler, now.

And Marceline knew in turn she was holding on too tight— I can't lose you echoed through her head again, made another bid for her tongue but she bit it back this time, pointed canines pinning down like tent poles. There were calluses, too, that Bonni wouldn't remember from more time and devotion showered on her bass. Invisible scars that reflected the wear on her heart— on both their hearts.

Spending a few mortal days had aged Marceline, but even a thousand undead years aged her eventually, if only ever so slightly and in the littlest of ways.

They'd changed. The Bonnibel who had caught Marceline spray painting the rock candy tunnels was no longer quite so strict, quite so quick to leap to judgment. And the Marceline who'd vandalized them was no longer quite so thoughtless, quite so reckless. They'd fallen apart and fallen back together and now, at last, they could fall in love.

It had taken the world ending to do it, but what was done was done, and Bonni's hand in hers told Marceline there was no going back.

"Hey, Bon," Marceline said, a low lilt. Languid, almost like she wanted to slip into song. She tilted her head; her hat slid askew as she rested against Bonnibel's crown.

Bonni accepted the weight, leaned back a little of her own. Hummed a query, weary and warm— a murmur from a half-awake dream.

Marceline grinned, but barely. A slight curve of her lips, just enough to accent one fang. "Where d'ya see yourself in a thousand years?"

Bonnibel reached over with her free arm and wrapped it through Marceline's, pulling the vampire solidly into her side. Bowed her head down to rest on Marceline's shoulder, licorice lashes fluttering shut.

"Here."

Marceline's dead heart somehow skipped a beat. She all but choked on the air she only needed for speech. And tried to play it off, to deemphasize, to be cool, but her emotions ruined everything by cracking her voice into bright, brittle shards. "Ya mean like in Ooo? In the United-Dual-Candy-Kingdom-Empire-Thing?"

Bonnibel snorted, softly. She burrowed a little more into Marceline's shoulder until, when she spoke, the words were traced onto skin as much as they were gifted to pointed ears.

"No, you dingus. Here with you." A pause. A subtle shift, and Bonni slipped an arm around Marceline's neck, instead, and pivoted into her body until they were suddenly, seamlessly embraced.

Marceline stiffened. This, too— Bonnibel and vulnerability— that was new. And different, and exciting, and frightening. Tentative, Marceline wrapped her arms as well, looser than that initial thank-glob-you're-alive hug but more solid all the same.

Bonnibel's fingers rippled on Marceline's back, trying the sentiment first as a wordless arpeggio. She sighed, a puff of warmth.

"Anywhere with you."

Impossibilities aside, Marceline's cheeks burned. Her whole head burned. Bonnibel had to be able to feel the temperature shift, sequestered as she was in the crook of the vampire's neck, which burned as well.

"Frosted-freaking-doughnuts, Bon, you're such a sap," Marceline croaked. It took all her strength not to use all her strength and crush Bonnibel into a wad against her chest.

Bonnibel sniffed— or sniggered. "Yeah, yeah," she drawled. "I am made out of sugar, you know. Sap literally runs through my veins."

Marceline snickered, and wrapped Bonni up tighter. Breathed in the fruity sweetness of her hair— breathed it in and held it in lungs that no longer absorbed but willed them even so to keep just a particle down deep in her chest, the closest it could get now to her heart.

"And a giant fudging nerd, too," Marceline added, more tease than taunt. Fond, now.

For the first time, Marceline felt tension lend edges to Bonnibel's frame. It shot cracks through her voice, too, as she demanded— joked— pleaded, "Tch, isn't that why you love me?"

Marceline wasn't made of sugar, but she was dangerously close to melting. Dusting a kiss across Bonnibel's temple, she replied,

"Yeah, that's why I love you."

Bonni's fingers snarled so tight in Marceline's shirt the battered material nearly tore. Her next breath sounded suspiciously shaky and more than a little damp. "After everything?"

Marceline chuckled. "You're a pain in the neck, Bonnibel Bubblegum, and trust me, I know about pains in the neck!" She combed idle fingers down Bonni's hair. Her tone dropped lower. "But you're my pain in the neck. I won't let you push me away again."

"I'll try really hard not to."

Marceline clucked her tongue. "Reassuring."

"I'm still learning!" Bonnibel burst, exasperated. But even so, she didn't retreat. If anything, she ground further into Marceline's embrace. And settled, and sighed, and said, "Fortunately, I really, really, really, really like learning. My learning curve is an asymptote approaching infinity, don't you fret."

Frowning, Marceline hedged, "Dunno what that means, Bon, but I'll grant you've got great curves, so— ow!" Bonnibel's fist thumped hollow on Marceline's chest, but it only prompted chortles from the vampire. "Nah, babe, you're stuck with me. And not just 'cause you're made of gum and we're literally stuck—"

Another, gentler thump. "Marcy."

"Mm?" The vampire idly licked a fang.

"I'm never not going anywhere, never."

Marceline nearly choked on her spit as she jibed, raucous, "How's that concussion treatin' ya?"

Bonnibel finally straightened up and eased away, but not far— still within the cradle of Marceline's arms, still flush from the waist down. She trailed a hand down Marceline's cheek, following the contours of sharply angled bone. And arched one delicate pink brow in an expression Marceline hadn't seen in… not quite a thousand years, but nevertheless an era and an age.

"Kiss it better?" Bonni prompted.

Marceline's throat went dry. Her fingertips sank in, creasing shallow indents in the pliant flesh of Bonni's waist. Her fangs ached, mixing signals. This wasn't that kind of desire.

She slid a hand up Bonnibel's back, easing their bodies back together. The princess's armor was uncomfortable, but she really didn't care. "What," she murmured against Bonni's mouth, "the first time didn't take?"

Pink fingers slipped along a clear-cut jaw, clumsy with need. "The treatment appears to require reapplication. We'll have to do more— no, extensive research."

Marceline laughed, once and soft. A fang rasped Bonnibel's lower lip. "Sounds like we'll be busy…"

Impatient, Bonni pulled Marceline in that last hair's-breadth and sealed their mouths in a resounding kiss. All of Marceline's still blood boiled in her veins, even hotter than before. There was intent this time. There was promise, this time.

A future, and an era, and a beginning of a world.

xxx

Some distance away, Simon raised his brows, cleaned his glasses, and resettled them on the bridge of his nose.

"Huh," he said at length, "I suppose she doesn't have a boyfriend, then."

Finn hung his head. "Aw, dingbats. I owe Jake a stack of pancakes. And what's left of my heart."

Simon patted him on the shoulder. Eventually, he wondered, "What kind of pancakes?"

Bravely, Finn managed to straighten. "Bacon pancakes. Why, IK— I mean, Simon, d'you want some?"

Simon's eyes misted over. "I haven't really eaten in a thousand years. Not consciously, you see. I can imagine no better way to break that fast."

Gung-ho once more, Finn threw an arm around the older man's shoulders. "Alright! You said it, Simon!"

As they walked off, Simon ventured, "Do you think we should tell the girls?"

"Tomorrow, Pops. Let's tell 'em tomorrow. We all got nothin' but time."

(we'll build our own forever

and never dance alone)