Disclaimer: Ugh. Why do I put this at the beginning of every chapter? You know, some people just do it once. Or not at all. I should try that.
Notes: Okay, it's finally here! Took me long enough. Geez. And it's horribly short, too. Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with the long wait for this chapter, and especially everyone who reviewed! I love you all *passes out Jake backpacks asdfghjkl I want one so bad why are they so expensive*
So, I hope to update this a lot more regularly (info on story updates are in my profile), now that I got past that nasty bit of writer's block! (Or laziness. Call it what you will. Oh, and the entire chapter I wrote for this update that I hated and deleted. Why did I waste a month on that?) Please review, give advice, critique, whatever, I love hearing from you! You guys are all the best!
Review, yo.
The scratching at the window was what woke her. Perhaps, years ago, she might have been more worried at the noise — well, not that Fionna often, if ever, became worried — but she at least would have grabbed her sword before padding over to pull the string attached to the window latch. It swung open with a soft kiss of wind, and Fionna nearly unhinged her jaw with a yawn as her guest swirled in on the breeze.
"Fi," he breathed, nearly silent in the dark.
"Marshall Lee," she grumbled, "what in Glob's name do you want?"
"I came to wish you a happy birthday," he said, and even though her eyes were half-closed with sleep, she could see his grin.
"It's too early for that, man. What is it, three?"
"Nearly five. The sun's rising soon."
"Huh." Fionna squinted at him, but black blended with black, and he was only a smeary shape with teeth. "Dude, the party isn't for like ten hours. Couldn't you wait?"
Marshall's shadowy outline moved in a shrug. "After the hell I went through to get your present? Nah, girl, I had to bring this straight to you." There was the sudden rattle of a very small and intriguing-sounding box, and Fionna blinked.
"Oooh..."
"Yeah, who's wishing I waited now?"
She could feel the chilled sigh of him slipping past her, and then his fingers touched her chin, so her eyes found his instead of searching blindly in the dark. His cool limbs folded around her for a moment, his breath quivering in a soft laugh next to her ear. "Happy sixteenth," he murmured.
"You aren't normally huggy," Fionna muttered grumpily, shivering from the brush of his cold skin. Her hat was crumpled on her head from being smashed against the pillow, so he poked at the ears as her eyes began to adjust.
"Meh," he said. "You pass through death for someone's present, you wanna appreciate them a little more."
"Through death? Dang man. What is it anyways? Ew—" Fionna made a face and swiped at a trickle of liquid on her cheek. "What is this, sweat? Take a shower, guy—" she peered closer at the wetness on her fingers. "—Marshall. This is blood."
He glanced at the faint streaks of red. "Huh."
"Marsh, are you okay?" Fionna asked. Her tiny feet went on tip-toe, and she scanned his face in the faint light to see blood oozing from a split lip, several nasty scratches, and a gash down his temple. "That looks kinda bad." Her hand extended automatically, but he floated back beyond her reach.
"Nah," he muttered, looking away, brushing the blood from his mouth. "I'm fine, Fi."
But she had already snatched her sword from its place at her bedside and straightened her hat determinedly. "I'll get 'em, bro. Who was it?"
He laughed, but didn't sound particularly amused. "I'm fine," he repeated, handing her the wrapped box.
She paused first, her eyes on his face, but then her stubby fingers closed around it. "It's my birthday," she huffed. "I wanna beat up bad guys."
He shrugged noncommittally, floating down to her level, feet settling on the floor.
"Fi, girl, what's up?" Cake called drowsily from her drawer. "Is someone there?"
"Just Marshall," Fionna answered.
"Oh." Cake shifted in her drawer. "Well, tell him to close the dang window. It's freezing."
Marshall rolled his eyes and clicked the latch shut, and Fionna set her sword down and eyed the bow around her box.
"Marshall," she started, more quietly than before, "did you get hurt because of my present?"
He grinned again, though perhaps it was a little tooth-heavy, and waved a hand. "I needed a good fight. Besides, a little blood never hurt anyone."
She made a face. "I guess not." Her fingers played with the red ribbon.
"Well, open it," he urged.
She glanced up at him again, and then sighed. Her callused fingers tore through the black wrapping paper, flipping the lid off. She squinted. "I can't see it in the dark."
Marshall flicked his fingers at a candle, and the pale flutter of flame illuminated them both. He looked worse with the light, faint bruises and drips of blood tracing around the damaged left side of his face, and Fionna stared at him for a moment before remembering her present.
"What are these?" she asked, surprised, prodding at the clinking glitter of jewels.
"Earrings."
"Oh. Shiny. What do I do with them?"
"They go in little holes in your ears," he said with a quiet laugh, turning away slightly so she didn't notice him wipe blood from his forehead and claw-marked cheek.
"I don't have holes in my ears, bro," she replied with a frown, still staring down at the small stones, gleaming and maroon and eerily similar to the red on his face. "And adventurers don't have time for girly junk. Too impractical."
"Nah, they're totally practical. Spelled to protect against vampires and everything."
"But," and her frown deepened as her eyes raised to his, "you're the only vampire I've ever met."
"You never know," he whispered conspiratorially, the black of his irises too black in the dark.
Her eyebrows creased doubtfully.
"Don't be a jerk," he muttered, a scowl beginning to dull his features. "Don't you like them?"
She tilted her head, watching the way they draped like cold rain between her fingers. "Actually. Dude. They are really pretty."
His smile was glorious. "See, even someone as badass as you can like jewelry. And I can even do the holes for you."
"Really? How?"
He leaned forward. "Close your eyes."
Fionna, unwisely trustful, closed her eyes. There was something magical, she thought, about having one's eyes closed at night. Everything else seemed so much louder.
His breath, especially, seemed loud, as his exhale lingered near her mouth. She could feel his hands gently pulling off her hat and then their coldness against her earlobe, and her heart beat a little more insistently through her thin pajama shirt. She wondered if it was because she was about to get stabbed in the ear, but probably his fingers on her sensitive skin didn't help if she was being honest.
"You know what it feels like when Cake bites you?" he asked.
Her eyes stayed shut, voice mildly protesting. "Aw, she hasn't done that in a long time."
"No? Well, maybe not to you," Fionna smiled at that, "but I can tell you, it's like a tiny pinprick—" she felt a dot of pain, and the soft tinkle of gems, "and sometimes she's being particularly vicious, and she does it twice—" there was another tiny pinch, on the other side, "and there. You officially have pierced ears."
"Oh, cool, that was quick. Thanks. You sure these won't get in the way?" she questioned, reaching up to touch an earring. They were foreign but somehow beautiful feeling against her skin.
"Girl, they'll be under your hat all the time anyways. Chill." He grinned a bit in the dark.
She grinned back. "And they're vampire protection?"
"Yeah man."
"So you can't attack me anymore?"
"Pff. Like I do anyways. Trust me, if I wanted to attack you, you'd be dead, girly."
She punched his arm exuberantly. "Same goes for you. Besides, stick you out in the sun, you get all toasty, so it isn't much of a fight."
He smirked at her, and she noticed for perhaps the first time how much taller he was, how far up she had to look. As always, his hair unerringly fell into his eyes. "Aw, whatever. Speaking of which, can I crash here? Sun's up in a few." He jerked his thumb at the window as if she could sense sunrise the same way he could.
She shrugged. "Sure, dude, lemme grab you a blanket." She yanked one from her bed and slide down the ladder, tossing it on the couch. "Okay, all set up."
He floated down after her. "Cool."
She reached for a rung, ready to climb back up and slip back beneath the covers, despite that it was her birthday and she was excited now because every movement of her head sent the whisper of earrings against her skin.
But she paused, brow crinkled in abrupt consternation, turning back to look at him. His eyes were closed already, long form not quite fitting on the smallish sofa, the fur blanket laid over his legs.
"What?" he asked.
She jumped a little. He hadn't even opened his eyes. "Erp. Well. I was just thinking, I know you have that super quick healing thing, so even if you get hurt it goes away really fast..." she trailed off, fingers still curled around the wooden slat of the ladder.
"...Yeah?"
"But it isn't working right now. I mean, you still have all those scratches and you're bleeding — are you okay?" She took a deep breath, waiting for his answer, straining in the quiet.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
She blew out all the air in her lungs. "Good. So it doesn't mean something's wrong?"
He was silent for a second. "No. Nothing's wrong."
"Good," she repeated. But then her fingers loosened from the wood, worn smooth from years of feet. She stepped over to him, and one of her small hands reached forward tentatively. He watched her, unmoving, as her fingertips moved his hair from the wounds and then very softly brushed the bloody cut over the black curve of his eyebrow. She let out a quiet breath, and his eyes followed her, flatly curious, as she walked to flick on the bathroom light and rummage around for a moment.
"Here," she said, emerging, holding out a cloth and a glass bottle. "This'll help prevent infection."
He took them both a bit reluctantly, his eyes searching hers. "Fionna. I don't get infections."
"Oh." She paused, looking uncomfortable, standing there in that awful holey shirt and flannel pants with little clouds on them, her go to pajamas when the footies were in the wash or the weather was too warm. There were little dabs of blood on her fingers from touching his face.
"But thanks," he said finally.
She smiled. "It's nothing. Thanks for the present, man. I love them." Her pinky fingered the cool facet of a jewel.
He nodded. "Sure."
She gave him another smile, one that was a little shyer, and headed once again for the ladder. "Goodnight," she called down softly when she was halfway up.
"'Night," he answered, though it wouldn't be night for much longer.
She fell into bed and wriggled beneath a pelt or two, making sure to keep her head straight to not crush her tender ears.
"That boy," Cake mumbled testily, "cannot just drop in this freakishly early."
"Aw, shaddup," Fionna said, both cheerfully and sleepily, her eyes catching up to her tired brain and blinking shut. "He brought a present for me."
The cat yawned, stretching her paw over and patting Fionna's cheek. "My li'l baby's so grown up," she got out, through another yawn.
Fionna grinned into her pillow, one finger flicking at an earring. It made a gleeful "tink" noise, and, a floor below, the Vampire King listened to her sigh happily before descending into snores.
He shook his head, winced at the effect the motion had on the marks on his face, and blinked at the ceiling. Unbidden, a gray fingertip touched the nick above his eye. After a minute, he carefully placed the bottle of antibiotic and the cloth on the floor next to him, and then he too fell asleep.
