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There are beakers and vials and other boring glass containers that probably have half a dozen fancy names around her, and Marceline just floats in the middle of the lab, accidentally-on-purpose making herself a hazard. Because think of all she could smash and shatter, drifting through the midsection of the lab like that, long hair carelessly thrown out behind and below her. A broken Petri dish here, a lopsided test tub there, a few bubbling liquids mixed together, and then something interesting might finally happen.
Marceline sighs, stares up at the clinical grid lights above, and for the billionth time, Princess Bubblegum tells her to stop being a nuisance, if she can possibly restrain herself for just a few minutes. There's been a science emergency. There's always a science emergency in the Candy Kingdom, which isn't really surprising when they're all made of sugar, soluble under the right circumstances, but the term emergency implies that there's some excitement in the situation, that there's a real sense of urgency.
It's very misleading.
The Princess has spent the better part of half an hour scribbling notes with an obnoxiously scratchy lead pencil, that she then covers up as Marceline floats behind her, as if there's any chance of her understanding a single equation scrawled out there. Marceline doesn't get science. She doesn't even understand the nature of this emergency, whether it has something to do with irregular pH balances or irregular blah levels in the blah blah blah, because she's a vampire. She doesn't have to do science. She just does her perpetual anti-gravity thing, becomes bigger and then smaller and then grows wings, and wiggles her fingers and sits back as stuff happens.
Bubblegum's mentioned time and time again that Marceline would make for a fascinating case study, if only she'd let her take a few preliminary notes, but Marceline always says heck to the no, there are far better ways for them to spend their time together.
“Don't touch that,” Princess Bubblegum says without looking away from the fizzing test tube she's holding up to the light, and while Marceline stops running her finger around the neck of a beaker, she doesn't pull her hand away completely. “It's a blinding draught.”
“Blinding draught?”
“That's right. It will blind you,” she continues, as if Marceline couldn't gather that much herself. Mostly, she wants to know why the Princess would make it, and who she intends to test it out on. After a moment, Bubblegum nonchalantly adds, “Forever.”
Okay. Marceline's definitely withdrawing her hand now. She's not up for spending the next thousand years in the dark, and then all the millenniums beyond that.
While Bubblegum mixes this-and-that together, stirs it all an exact number of times and generally looks very busy and very sciency, Marceline drifts over to one of the locked glass cupboards, and her gaze skims across the containers held inside. Freezing potion. Fire-in-a-jar. A numbing concoction. There's some seriously messed up stuff in there, and Marceline almost thinks that it's kind of cool. Almost, because having been exposed to the rigorous creation process, she's bored so stiff that she can't imagine ever being entertained by something again.
Still, Finn mentioned something about a paralysing potion before, and there was the time that—
“Hey, Bonnie. Didn't you raise the dead once?”
There's a pause, and Bubblegum seems as uninterested in answering the question as Marceline does in involving herself with science. Or otherwise simply distracted, Marceline supposes, having the fate of the Candy Kingdom balancing on her shoulders.
Again.
“Once,” Bubblegum says with a slight shrug of her shoulders, like it's no big deal.
“Huh,” Marceline says, brow furrowed, like she herself can't call armies of the dead into her service with a few silly incantations. “Cool.”
The next hour consists mostly of Marceline trying to secure Bubblegum's attention by being a pain, but much to her dismay, the Princess ignores her entirely, because she doesn't actually break anything. Some of the containers with liquid bubbling away inside of them begin to look painfully inviting, but Marceline wouldn't put the contents past being able to turn the whole of the Candy Kingdom into a sink hole in a matter of minutes, knowing Bubblegum.
But finally, finally, Bubblegum's holding up a pot of what looks like dust, if Marceline's completely honest, and beaming at it proudly through her silly goggles. She pulls them up, onto her forehead, what a nerd, and keeps the labcoat on as she hurries out to one of the castle's balconies. Marceline follows her, because finally she can get out of the lab (because, obviously, she had no choice but to be there the whole time Bubblegum worked) and along comes Lady Rainicorn, who seems to know what to do.
She takes the magic-science-dirt, whatever it is, up into the air, and as she glides across the Candy Kingdom, she lets it fall down upon the streets and rooftops alike. Marceline lands behind Bubblegum as the Princess stands with her hands clasped before her, holding her breath, racked with anticipation. Marceline watches as nothing happens, for a long moment, and then the dust reacts with the air, sparking off as an unnatural but far from unsettling green. The whole thing blends into a relaxing, rejuvenating sort of mist, repairing or rebalancing or somethinging the kingdom.
Marceline has no idea what's actually happening, but whatever it is, it's as impressive as heck.
“I did it,” Bubblegum exhales softly, happily, rocking forward on her tiptoes a little. The sense of relief coming from the air is pretty much palpable. “Once again, the Candy Kingdom is safe.”
“Great job,” Marceline says instinctively, glad that it's finally over and done with. And that everyone's safe and sound, she guesses.
“Do you really think so?” Bubblegum asks, turning to look over her shoulder at Marceline. Like she actually values her opinion, even when it comes to something like science, which is wholly and completely her domain. It's enough to make Marceline feel a little bad for trying so hard to half-heartedly sabotage her work.
In lieu of actually answering, Marceline wraps her arms around Bubblegum's waist, chin propped up on her shoulder, cheek pressed to hers. Bubblegum relaxes immediately, places her hands against the backs of Marceline's arms, and for a moment, they just watch as lights play in the night air, twisting through the streets, dancing around lollipop lampposts.
“Yeah,” Marceline says, “I'm proud of you, Bonnie.”
*
The next day, science emergency put behind them and promptly forgotten about, Princess Bubblegum is kidnapped.
Her abductor sneaks in from the Water Kingdom by means of a large barrel of what's said to be the purest spring water in all of Ooo, claiming it to be a gift for the Princess, sent by his own kingdom. But before Bubblegum gets the chance to have the barrel rolled into the royal kitchens, it bursts open, the excess water floods the floor and causes half a dozen servants to slide over. Peppermint Butler cracks the top of his head on a candy cane, and Bubblegum's snatched up.
Marceline, very busy hovering in the corner and feasting on the red from one of the royal portraits lining the walls, doesn't realise what's happened until it's too late. All of this royal gift giving under the pretence of goodwill, and not simply to stave off war, bores her to death, again, and she's all but zoned out.
She snaps back into the here and now pretty quickly when she hears the clatter of candy, pulls her fangs from the painting, and then she's darting off down the corridor, following wobbly footprints of water as she goes. She's hardly Finn or Jake, doesn't really have any experience when it comes to rescuing princesses, but she's already got the perfect plan worked out: she's going to punch somebody really, really hard in the face.
Into one of the chambers she goes, ready to show this slippery eel who's boss, because nobody messes with Princess Bubblegum like that. Except for her, possibly, but that's hardly the point. The door's ajar, handle dripping, and when Marceline throws it all the way open with a great slam against the wall behind, she finds that Princess Bubblegum is—
Well, she's completely fine, actually. There's a scowl across her face so deep that it looks as if it's been carved there, and she's currently wringing out her sopping wet dress with a fair few urghs, but other than that, there doesn't seem to be a single thing wrong with her.
“Did I miss something?” Marceline asks, one hand on Bubblegum's shoulder as she hooks the other around her jaw and tilts her head back, just in case there is something wrong with the Princess.
“Nothing at all!” Bubblegum announces, voice a little shrill. At least she's sticking to English. “It seems that the delegate from the Water Kingdom forgot that he's made mostly of water, and that while—”
Marceline blinks as Bubblegum goes onto explain something about water resistance and pressure being quite fascinating, really, and the way their bodies, airquotes around the bodies, are mostly made up from what they can gather up with the swirling little force that they basically are. Bits of seaweed and ground down shells tend to make up any physical form, and Marceline thinks she sort of gets it.
Princess Bubblegum jerks a thumb over her shoulder, towards the sink, and then folds her arms across her chest indignantly. Raising an eyebrow, Marceline steps over, peers inside, and then breaks out into unflattering, spluttery laughter when she sees a pathetically small puddle of water squirming around the bottom of the basin, two crossed eyes floating around in the middle.
“Maybe this rescuing princesses gig isn't so difficult after all,” Marceline says with a grin that Bubblegum isn't quite ready to return, and then doesn't add on that she was worried. Because she wasn't. Even if she thinks that, were she alive, her heart might've been pounding for a few shaky moments there.
“I'm glad it amused one of us,” Bubblegum huffs, and Marceline tells her to lighten up, even though kidnappings must get old after the first dozen failed attempts.
Princess Bubblegum rolls her eyes and can't help but seem fond as she does so, and Marceline reaches out, prodding at her hair that now has a bit of a shine to it.
“Ah, man. Your hair is going to be sticky for days.”
*
On the third day, Marceline has to get out of the Candy Kingdom. Just for a little while, because even though Princess Bubblegum is at the heart of it all, it's just not really her scene. Happily, her brief disappearance coincides with the fact that Bubblegum needs somebody to get a few things from a store outside of the kingdom, and Marceline supposes that, sure, she can stoop to the level of a servant. Bubblegum puts her hands on her hips, says that she didn't mean it like that, but being mostly aware that Marceline is just trying to rile her up, puts a silly necklace around her neck and then sends her on her way.
Without so much as a goodbye kiss.
As she glides through the shade of a canyon, store now in sight, Marceline fiddles with the necklace Bubblegum's made her wear. It's lame, no doubting that, but she kind of likes it. Enough to not toss it down into the dusty rocks below, anyway.
Blessedly, the store sells more than just candy, and Marceline begins tossing things into her basket, almost absent-mindedly. Bubblegum did write her a list, technically speaking, but Marceline's always been a big fan of improv. So in go a few juicy steaks, a couple of apples, and a pack of strawberries. She's just getting to the cherries when the charm on the end of the necklace begins to flash, and with a whoa, whoa, what as she rather gracelessly floats backwards, trying to get away from something hanging around her own neck, the Princess is suddenly in front of her.
Sort of.
If the Princess was made entirely from intangible sheets of light, anyway. Marceline reaches out, presses her fingers right through Bubblegum's forehead, and she doesn't seem to mind.
“Guten tag, Marceline,” she says cheerful, infuriatingly pleased at herself for having caught her off-guard, “I'm just checking in to make sure everything is going well, and that you haven't faced any perils on your voyage to the convenience store.”
“Uh, yeah,” Marceline says, tilting her head this way and that. She's now having a conversation with a structure of light that resembles Princess Bubblegum. Awesome. “It's just shopping. Hardly a royal mission!”
Marceline shrugs to herself, and then tosses an apple through Bubblegum's nose. Again, it doesn't appear to bother her.
“It's a hologram, Marceline,” Princess Bubblegum says, shaking her head as if she expected Marceline to know better.
“I knew that,” she says, and fiddles with the pendant, until either she gets it to shut off, or Princess Bubblegum takes mercy on her and hangs up.
Sheesh.
She's a thousand years old. She should really stop being surprised by these silly little things the Princess does.
*
It's always a little strange, being around Finn. Princess Bubblegum insists that they should tell him how things are, but at the same time, says that she doesn't want to break his heart. Marceline just shrugs the whole situation off, and says that it's alright, Bubblegum's probably broken his heart a dozen times over. He's a tough kid.
And so there they are, standing at Finn's door, preparing for one of their movie nights. The movies have always been of the interesting sort, ever since Finn started taking the warning at the beginning of films seriously, but even Marceline has to admit that he's getting a little better at stringing his own movies together. He's almost starting to get something like a coherent plot going.
Still, it's a good thing that Marceline's not there for the films themselves. She's there because Princess Bubblegum insists that she goes, because she wants to see everyone, and she wants to spend time with their friends. Whatever. Marceline just does the honours of ringing the doorbell, eager to get this over and done with.
“Oh, hey guys,” Finn says, answering. “You both just happened to turn up at the same time, huh?”
“That's right!” Princess Bubblegum says a little too quickly, pitch far too high. “We just happened to turn up at the same time. What are the chances?”
Finn says something aptly mathematical and enthusiastic, and then heads back to attend to his other guests. Bubblegum elbows Marceline in the side at one point, as if Marceline was about to make the effort to say something to the contrary. She would take the time to feel a little disheartened about this bumbling need Bubblegum feels to keep certain things to herself in the presence of others, if it wasn't so entertaining watching her squirm.
Inside, everyone gets settled, and Princess Bubblegum claims the comfiest armchair for herself. This evokes a great deal of huffing from LSP, as ever, but she's not the only one who had her eyes set on the seat. Marceline kicks off her boots and then leaps over, landing squarely on the Princess's lap.
Bubblegum's so taken aback that it takes her a moment to realise what's happening, and Marceline enjoys a few seconds of unbridled comfort before Princess Bubblegum starts flailing.
“Marceline!” she says, face turning from pink to red. Surely she should know by now that she's never going to get Marceline to do as she wants when a little provocation causes her to look like that. “You can float! What are you doing?”
Straw between her lips, Marceline slurps her drink loudly. Finn, eyes fixed on Beemo, tells them to shhhhhhhhhhh, because the movie's about to start, guys. Marceline smirks, tilts her head back and whispers into Bubblegum's ear that it's fine, babe, nobody cares what they're doing. She's fairly certain that vampires and princesses get tangled up during movie nights all the time; it's hardly anything out of the ordinary.
But then, as soon as the movie begins to play and the lights are all out, Princess Bubblegum manages to turn the tables. It's nothing short of spectacular. Going along with the notion that if you can't beat them you should join them, she waits until she's absolutely sure that everyone's engrossed in the scene placing out in front of them, and brushes Marceline's hair to the side, splitting it each way so that it hangs across her shoulders. Brow furrowed, Marceline has absolutely no idea of what's going on, but doesn't move, doesn't say anything.
Not until Bubblegum begins pressing her lips to the nape of her neck, at any rate, and then she keeps having to clear her throat, silly little noises mangling themselves into the beginnings of sentences to point out just how good the film is a little too often.
Oh, someone is going to pay for this later.
*
Marceline can fly.
She can fly when she's in her regular body, and she can fly when she's a bat. She could fly if she was an eagle or a vulture or some kind of sentient hot air balloon, if she really wanted to. Transformation is fun that way.
But the point is, Marceline can fly in as many ways as she can think of. She's been hundreds of feet above the ground before, has pulled wisps of cloud away with her fingertips, and so there's absolutely no reason that she should be reacting like this. Like she's a hundred and three years old and barely has a grasp on floating yet. But in spite of all this sound logic, there she is, arms wrapped tightly around Princess Bubblegum's waist, clinging to her, throwing any remaining scraps of dignity she had to the wind.
It's a good thing that Bubblegum's hair has already dried out.
Because there they are, tearing across Ooo, perched on the back of The Morrow. The thing is fudging insane. Marceline's convinced that she's suffering whiplash as she goes, all of the organs that haven't really done anything since she died being flung together and made a fine paste out of. Worse still is the fact that Bubblegum isn't showing any signs of being affected by this at all. The opposite, in fact. She's laughing and cheering and patting The Morrow on its head, telling the great bird that it's fine if it wants to go faster, really, because the sooner they get home the better.
Marceline screws her eyes shut, glad that no one can see her do so, and by the time that they land, she's mentally exhausted every pleading prayer she knows. Princess Bubblegum hops off the bird as if she's entirely unaware of how Marceline's reacted, until she turns to look at her. Steeling herself, Marceline's mouth pressed together in a thin line, and she gets off The Morrow just as quickly as she can, trying not to wobble as she lands.
Trying and failing.
Princess Bubblegum gets an arm around her as Marceline remembers how to float, and she thinks that she'd undergo a rather graphic display of travel sickness, if her stomach wasn't all mashed up and caught in her throat. She grumbles, and Princess Bubblegum does her the favour of pretending like there's absolutely nothing wrong, and tells her about the nice strawberry tart waiting for them back in the castle.
Feeling like a steaming pile of cabbage, Marceline floats along, not breaking free of Bubblegum's hold, and barely finds the energy to mumble that dumb birds just don't compare to flying properly.
Ugh.
It'll be another thousand years before she gets on one of those again.
*
The next day starts off a lot more promising, and stays that way for all of an hour.
She's been recruited to help out with a barbecue, which at least explains the shopping stint earlier in the week. Unfortunately, Marceline and Princess Bubblegum have wildly conflicting ideas of what constitutes as being helpful, and Marceline spends the first twenty minutes ensuring that all of the raw steaks are up to scratch by sucking the red right out of them.
Luckily, Marceline's spared a lecture when Finn and Jake turn up, in the middle of a quest. They're in the process of hunting down a flock of laser-wielding octogeese, and the only weapon that can hope to permanently slay them is located in one of the castle's hidden chambers. As so many legendary weapons are.
Six hours later and they've dealt with said octogeese, repurposed their lasers in order defeat the real enemy, rescued the Princess (twice) and managed to find themselves distracted by a side quest that involved not a small amount of soufflé and a friendly gnome. It's a lot to go through while holding up a parasol, and Marceline's arms are singed around the elbows, toes a little sore. They've barely managed to get the charcoal lighted, colourless steaks not so much as warm, and yet there everyone is, standing around and chatting happily, as if they haven't been through a dozen adventures already.
That's the problem with mortals. They have such short lives that they feel compelled to shove everything into a ridiculously short span of time, and it is utterly exhausting.
*
In the morning, Marceline wakes up curled on Princess Bubblegum's pillow, small enough to fit snugly into one of the creases. She's got her wings wrapped around herself and a helping of Bubblegum's hair acting as a blanket. Rolling onto her back, Marceline stretches out, and then pushes herself up, only to flop down on Bubblegum's face. The Princess is facing her, sleeping on her side, and Marceline stretches her wing out across the cheek exposed to the air, swiping her tongue up Bubblegum's nose as she nuzzles her whole face against it.
Princess Bubblegum stirs, is confused a little by the darkness that comes with having a bat stretched over face, and then picks Marceline up with two fingers, holding her by the back of her neck. Marceline squirms as Bubblegum wishes her a good morning, and when she can't wiggle out of her grasp, she changes back in a flash. The bed covers are disrupted in the process, and Marceline kicks out her legs, getting used to being vampire-shaped again. Big enough now to press against the whole of Bubblegum, she buries her face in her neck and wraps her arms and legs alike around her, keeping her trapped there like a big, affectionate spider.
Never one to waste the day lazing around in bed when there are royal duties to attend to, which is always, Princess Bubblegum surprises Marceline in silently tolerating her. And more than that, really. She wraps her arms back around Marceline in kind, happily nestled against her as she runs her fingers through her long, black hair. Marceline's unlike the rest of the Candy Kingdom, unlike the life that Bubblegum's had no choice but to surround herself with, but at times like this, it doesn't seem to matter. She doesn't worry that she stands out by not fitting in, that the worlds she and Bubblegum are from are too different to mesh in the long run; she just kisses at her collarbone, glad that there are no other vampires around.
Bubblegum laughs softly as Marceline becomes less sleepy and more structured in her kissing onslaught. Her fingers stop threading through her hair and press to the back of her head, gently easing her away. Marceline pouts, flat tongue flicking out, but it's too late. Bubblegum's already sitting up, wrestling her bed-hair into something a little more presentable, about to swing her legs over the side of the bed.
Just not if Marceline can help it.
Hopping out from beneath the tangle of covers, Marceline drops herself in Bubblegum's lap, giving her hair a ruffle, just for good measures.
Princess Bubblegum does nothing but frown. It's hardly the first time Marceline's tried to extend a lie-in.
“Come on, Marceline. You know there's business to attend to,” Bubblegum says with a sigh. Her business to attend to, she means, because clearly Marceline has nothing of her own to be getting on with. She really wishes she knew what gave the Princess this impression of her. Other than the fact that she's spent the last solid week in the Candy Kingdom, floating around her, that is. “Breakfast should be ready by now, and you know how I feel about putting a single piece of candy to waste. And after that, I have to make preparations for the Earl of Parsnip's visit, followed by a strategic meeting in the afternoon to ensure that our boarders are properly defended against the Mountain Kingdom, now that they're finally clued in that they can just lick their way through our gates and walls, if they're very patient and very hungry for candy. Which they always are. And that's not to mention finding time to sneak into the lab to work on my latest equila—”
To Marceline's credit, she does last about two sentences before her mind becomes a blank. She watches Bubblegum's lips part but doesn't hear any of the words come out, and she wonders when the heck the Princess became more than she could handle. Because she's supposed to be boring, is supposed to be the goody-goody princess made of sugar and sweetness and urgh, all Marceline wants to do is go home and float above her sofa with her bass.
Or smush her face up against Bubblegum's and kiss her, like shutting her up is going to stop her from going ahead and doing all of those stupid, time-consuming things. Bubblegum makes a noise of protest into her mouth, and then kisses back in such a way that lets Marceline know that she was never really planning to object for long. Marceline smiles against her mouth until she's barely even able to kiss her properly, sharp fangs grazing soft pink lips, and when they break apart, she places a finger against Bubblegum's mouth to keep her quiet.
Somehow, Marceline's wound up having been pulled flush against her, legs around her waist where they belong, which puts her in a fairly strong position to bargain from.
“Chill out, Bonnie,” she says, only pulling her hand away when she feels she's going to get a word in edgeways. “How about listening to a Queen for once, 'kay? You're in charge around here, and you work your pretty pink gum off every day for this kingdom of yours. An hour or two in bed isn't going to hurt anyone.”
“But—”
Because applying kisses seems to help the talking situation, Marceline does it again, earning a frustrated, relenting noise from Bubblegum. With a grumble, hands on Marceline's shoulders, she sinks back against the bed, hair messed up on the pillow again in two seconds flat. Marceline wraps her arms and legs around her extra tightly, so that she doesn't find some way to squirm free, because the thought of having to get up and do anything exciting is making her feel as if she'd be rolling in her grave, had someone had the decency to dig one for her.
There is a great deal of kissing, wonderfully lazy in nature, and Marceline entwines Bubblegum's fingers with her own, making absolutely no effort to push things in any particular direction. They both rest against one another, a hard-earned break outside of the necessities of sleep, and Marceline laughs warmly as Bubblegum tilts her jaw up, lips brushing across the shell of her ear.
“Life in the Candy Kingdom has proven to be more than you expected, hasn't it?” Princess Bubblegum asks, and the smug edge of her words ripples through Marceline, just like the creases in the dishevelled bedsheets all around them. She shuffles around, feet bumping against Bubblegum's as she turns to face her completely, foreheads knocking together.
“Oh, I can't deal with you at all, Princess.”
She doesn't think she'd have it any other way.