Marceline and Lou

What Has Changed

Marceline laid flat on her back in bed, staring a hole into her popcorn ceiling. She was so sick of this. They hadn't spoken since they had gotten back (hours ago) Because she was finally unwilling to take the first step and ask him if he was okay. That's what she should do right? That's how they worked. She poked and prodded and he would finally talk and she would listen. Some might call that a healthy relationship.

But he was supposed to be the mature one here, he was once her teacher after all. But it didn't feel that way anymore. Something had changed, their dynamic. Sliding off kilter by just a few degrees, and she felt like somehow, they needed to make it slide just a bit more until it clicked into place.
But what?

She was tired of trying to puzzle it out. Her eyes felt heavy, and the next thing she knew she was jostled awake by Lou, who was hovering right above her.

"Lou?"

She didn't know why she whispered it.

"M, I think we need to talk."

Through the haze of her sleep addled mind, before the realities of life could invade, Marceline could process a single fact about herself she hadn't managed to see before- Lou was her whole world now. He was always on her mind. Always flitting on the edge of subconscious. And that terrified her.

She had promised herself that never again would she ever let someone, or something become so important to her that she felt she couldn't function without them. Because when that someone or something disappeared, where would that leave her? It was a vulnerability she wasn't willing to indulge in. So how had this happened? She didn't have the time to figure it out.

As all of this was waterfalling through her brain, Lou continued to loom over her, ever patient with her.

"Ah, sure." She slid off the bed, knocking the blankets and pillows she had nested with to the ground to reveal her baggy shirt...and her lack of pants. They collectively looked down at her bare legs. Marceline finally let out a small squeak and hopped back onto the bed, more horrified than she thought she ever could be. Not to mention said baggy shirt was his.

Lou, on his part, did not sprint out of the room. He turned on his heel before she could gauge his face and said a bit stiffly, "I think this is a pants kind of conversation." Ever the gentleman.

"Ok, yes, those are good kinds. Let me just-"and she deftly pounced off the bed and into her closet. She emerged with equally baggy pants, and a bit of pink on her cheeks.

She almost tapped his shoulder, thought of earlier, and settled for a simple "Lead the way" to announce her decency.

He didn't even turn around, just walked out the door. Hm.

They ended up on the wide balcony, him turning to face her as he leaned against it, his back to the endless navy and smoky clouds. The air smelled like grass and spring and freedom; she couldn't describe how happy that smell made her feel. Mood soothed; Marceline came up beside him to gaze out at the hills. The moment stretched gently.

"This needs to end."

Okay moment over. Marceline turned her face sharply to his profile, clocking again the beautiful lines even as her stomached fell to the concrete.

"What?" She choked out the word.

"This...isn't working anymore. For me."

Marceline turned her full body towards him, her eyes boring into the side of his face.

"You're going to have to use a bit more English here, Teach." He finally let out a sharp breath and faced her, stepping back and along the railing as he did so.

"Things have...changed. They've changed in a way I hadn't considered and because of that change we just can't continue to travel as we have. As man and woman. It would be inappropriate."

Marceline couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did he faceplant into the wall during her nap? Was he having an aneurysm?

"Lou," she began slowly, "We've been traveling as student and teacher for months. No one has batted an eye. Well, except for that one lady, but she was high off jelly. There literally hasn't been any problems. Except for the one you're talking about which by the way, you aren't telling me!"

They stood staring at each other. "Tell me!" She practically seethed, close to his face now. He backed up another step, but he seemed to be losing his composure. The step was more of a stumble, and it was half-hearted at best.

"It is not appropriate," He enunciated the syllables like she was a fantastic brand of idiot. "I am a thirty-one-year-old bachelor and you are barely out of high school."

"I'm twenty-one!"

"Yes. Barely an adult."

His sharp words drifted coldly in the air between them. But despite his biting tone, Marceline couldn't help but notice his body language. Both his feet were pointed towards her, his hand was on the railing, gripping it close to her waist. His eye were fierce but they were also imploring, almost like he was at war with himself behind them.

She thought she understood then. The glances, the forced stoicism, the tension that had been building over the past few days. Maybe it wasn't only in her head. Maybe it was very very real.

"Tell me what's changed." She whispered it and she didn't mean to.

Still, something in her voice seemed to scare him, the fierceness in his eyes melting away into something else. Something that she wanted, more than she knew until that moment.

She didn't think, didn't have to, as she took another step closer. And another. Until his chest rose and fell inches from hers. And he stayed. Her fingers rose, tentative, to brush the hand at her side, still gripping the railing. She leaned up on her bare toes, so slowly, gauging his every breath, as she gently, gently, let her face drift closer to his. His eyes grew, his moss eyes grew mossier, darker and greener. The moment felt like glass, and for some reason, she desperately wanted to shatter it, and see if it would still stand.

And so, she closed the space between them and kissed him. Full on the mouth but slow, gentle and shy. Like she couldn't bear to give any more of herself away, though she had. Fully. Over the course of months and weeks. And now she was his.

And that terrified her.

She drew back, her hand falling from his and she let embarrassment wash fully over her as she processed that he hadn't kissed her back. Her heart pressed to the back of her throat and she made to stumble away and back into her room into her bed, but then he grabbed her.