The whole time Marshall Lee had known Fionna, he had always wondered how it would feel to hold her. He wasn't exactly Mr. Touchy Feely. He was used to getting hit with her fist or kicked in some way. Even the occasional high five. But since he started having feelings for the adventuress, he couldn't help but wonder how she'd feel against him.
Rough? Hard? Sweaty? Dry? Sometimes the Vampire King tried to brush past her to get a good idea but a brush wouldn't be enough. He supposed he could ask for a hug, but he was a thousand year old vampire and had to keep up his reputation. He didn't want word to get out that he was getting soft. Cause he wasn't.
But Marshall's curiosity eventually got the best of him. He tried to find ways to get her to hug him, run into him, anything so he could get an idea on what it'd be like to hold her. Touch her. And the vampire always got his way. Always.
To the vampire's frustration, nothing he did worked. He tried tripping her, but she always righted herself up with her sword before he could catch her. He tried to have her get scared enough to reach out to him, but she never did. He tried to find her when the stupid Gumwad broke her heart so she could lean on him for support, but he was always too late.
So when the day came where Fionna fell from climbing the tree fort one day and into his arms, Marshall wasn't sure what to expect. Her force made them tumble to the ground and roll down a hill. She held onto him tightly, her head buried in his chest.
If Marshall's undead heart could, he was sure it'd be thumping in his chest. He stared up at the sky, his hand on the blonde's shoulder who still clung to him from the fear caused by the drop. She wasn't rough. Not by a long shot. Nor was she hard or sweaty or dry.
Marshall took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her and closed his eyes. She wasn't any of the things he thought she could be. He was dead wrong. Instead of being rough or hard or sweaty or dry, she was soft. So, very soft. And he adored it.