AUTHOR'S NOTE: It would be highly appriciated if you guys could give me reviews. It's just that some people have asked for longer chapters, another person has pointed out a few flaws in character portrayals, etc. and I'm just wondering if there's anything else you guys want tweaked. Also, my birthday was the 26th, so that's why THIS chapter took so long as well. See ya!

Chapter Eighteen

Marshall's P.O.V.

After being threatened to be strangled with my own esophagus, I opened the door to let my darling baby sister out of her holding cell, praying that she was over it, otherwise there'd be hell to pay, both from her and the other guys because they'd be pissed at me that we had to do it all over again.

Marceline stepped out, her clothes rumpled and in some places torn from sleeping on top of the jewels and everything. She handed Fionna her (shiny) sword and laughed. "You're lucky to have Finn as a brother, ya know. Otherwise, I'd never know whose sword this was."

"Huh?" I blinked. "Wait, Finn and Fi are brother and sister? I thought they were, like, cousins or something."

"No…" Fionna said slowly, shaking her head.

"But you act like close friends or something." I insisted.

"Can't we be both?" Fionna asked with a confused expression on her face.

Marceline and I exchanged a look. With our 'relationship', or, rather, lack thereof, that kind of thought patteren didn't generally cross our path- well, not mine, at least.

It occurred to me that Finn had probably compared mine and Marceline's actions to his and Fionna's, his and Jake's, Fionna's and Cake's, Fire Prince Infern's and Fire Princess Incendia's, hell, even Lumpy Space Prince and Princess as a way of working out what needed tweaking on whose behaviour.

A little voice in the back of my head reminded me that I hadn't excactly been wonderful to Marceline, so that was a point to be made as well. I sighed out loud, and Fionna gave me an odd look, as if to say, 'Dude, stop.'

Meanwhile, Marceline was glancing at her arms, which had gone all hard and flaky, as they normally did when this happened. "Ugh!" She groaned. "Myskin's all weird again!" She pulled at her top and peered at her belly. "Wonderful. It's on my stomach. I'm not even gonna check my chest, because it's probably all over there, too." Generally, judging by the previous patterns of her skin during previous… episodes, it grew farther along her body with each passing year.

She looked up at us. "At least it's not on my face, right?" Fionna bolted, yelping that she thought she heard Cake calling her. I, consequently, was trapped, and I twiddled my thumbs together.

"Uh… well, ya see…" I started hesitantly.

An expression of dismay shot through her face. "No… no, oh, glob, please, no…" She dashed over to a mirror hanging on the wall (Bubba says I'm vain. Have you ever counted your mirrors, dude?) and gave a little scream.

Frankly, it looked like somebody had taken a black texta and drawn little hexagons all over her skin. She scraped at them furiously as she walked away, muttering darkly under her breath, something about a spatula, which somehow, I thought that if Bubba had heard that, she'd never be allowed anywhere near the kitchen for a year.

Speak of the pink, squishy devil; I distinctly heard Bubba's voice coming down the hallway. By the sound of it, he was having, as he would put it in his British, semi-nerdy, sugary way of speaking, 'a civilised disagreement of conflicting opinions' with P.B... In other words, they were bickering, like any good cousins do.

Marceline's eyes widened when she realised who was about to come around the corner. She squeaked, glancing in the mirror again before throwing her hair over her face and beginning to stalk down the corridor in the oppisite direction.

Bubba spotted her as he walked into view, cutting off something he'd been... well, not snapping, because he appears to be incapble of that, but saying angrily to P.B. "Marceline? You okay?" He asked. I, being his, as my sister quite delicatly put it, bosom bud deamon dude, picked up that it was just a touch forced happy-wise.

Marceline, still doing a Cousin It impression, just shrugged. "Yeah..." She mumbled.

P.B. had stopped and was picking up the flakes that Marceline had shed to study them. "You know," She said out loud, "These look almost like… oh, I don't know, scales or something…"

There was an ear-splitting shriek from Cousin It as she swung around, her hair going in every direction away from her face, showing her hexagons full in Bubba's face.

"I have scales?!"