Domesticity

In Which Marshall Babysits

"Olivia?" Fionna asked, ducking into the other woman's apartment. Something was boiling on the stove, creating an herbal smell in the room. Papers littered the kitchen table and every available surface, and a picket sign rested against the pantry door. 
Olivia poked her head in from another door. "Hey, you need a warrant." 

"What? No. I need you to babysit for me on Thursday. I have a date." 
"Oh, did you patch things up with the rude door?" Olivia asked. "That's sweet."
Fionna smiled. "No, it's someone else." 
Olivia visibly deflated. "Oh. Well, I can't. I have to protest capitalism on Main Street. Also, police bruta..." She trailed off, looking at Fionna. "Nah, this fic is too light-hearted for that. Anyway, point is, can't do it. Ask Marshall Lee." 

"Alright, thanks Olivia." Fionna sighed. 
Olivia saluted her. "No prob, Bob. Hey, next time I'm busy and you and Marshall are going out, ask Hedgeford. His live-in nurse likes to be reminded that human beings are a thing." 

Fionna smiled again. "Thanks, Olivia." 

A few minutes later, Fionna found herself in front of Hedgeford and his young nurse. 
"Ah! The war widow!" Hedgeford proclaimed. 
Fionna cringed. "Um... sure... listen, can you two babysit Dessie on Thursday night?" 
"Jeanine?" Hedgeford inquired. 

"Sure." Jeanine popped her gum, flipping through a magazine from the 1960s about gardening. "Sounds fun." 
Hedgeford's face soured. "Well... Jeanine... here I thought you were going to tell the nice widow about how we're watching the big baseball game on Thursday!" 

Jeanine shook her head at Fionna, before looking back at Hedgeford and shrugging. "Sorry, lady. But hey, at least Hedgeford didn't hit on you." 
"Jeanine!" Hedgeford replied, scandalized. "Are you telling lies about me?!" 
Jeanine shook her head. "I'm telling truths, sir." 

"Oh, Jeanine." Hedgeford turned back to his programming. 
"He still thinks it's the fifties." Jeanine continued. "Probably better to let your kid go to the... hey, Hedgeford, what's the landlady again?" 
"The communist witch!" Hedgeford howled. 
"Olivia already has something planned." Fionna pointed out, rubbing her arm awkwardly. 

"Mm... I guess I can take both itty-bitties then." 
"I'm not dating Marshall." Fionna said firmly. 
"Excellent. See, Jeanine? I told you the widow had better taste than the welfare hippy." Hedgeford said, pride tinging his voice. 
Jeanine ignored him. "So he's free?" 

"Uh... I guess?" Fionna asked. "Yeah. Yeah, he's free." What was she worrying about? She was going out on a date too. 
Jeanine nodded. "Nice. Too bad I'm a lesbian and you're in love with him." 
"What?" Fionna demanded. 

Jeanine waved goodbye. "Go ask him to babysit for you, unless you want to postpone...?" 

Fionna huffed at being pushed out, before marching downstairs. It was no big deal. They could totally become friends... she lost her train of thought as a shirtless Marshall with bedhead answered the door. "Are you going to poke me again?" He asked warily, hiding behind the door. 
She laughed. "Nah, I came to ask a favor." 
"Ooh, a favor. What's in it for me?" 

"I'll pay you?" Fionna suggested. 
Marshall cracked the door open a little more. "What's your favor?" 
"I need you to babysit Dessie for me on Thursday night." 

"Hmm... why are you paying me?" 

"Because I'm treating you like a regular babysitter instead of a neighbor." 
"...and you really meant that? About us being friends?" 
"Yeah. I even told Jeanine you were single." 
"Why? She's a lesbian." 

"Well I know that now. But anyway, please?" Fionna asked. 
"Why do you need a babysitter?" Marshall retorted through narrowed eyes. 
Fionna crossed her arms. "I'm not planning on robbing a bank or anything." 
"Good thing too. I wouldn't know who to report you to. The police would just investigate you and say that you did nothing wrong." Marshall smiled. "Fine, I'll babysit the kid. When are you going to be back?" 

"9-ish?" Fionna shrugged. "Thanks for doing this for me." 
"No problem. It'll make Jazz happy to hang out with her friend." 

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"Alright, so you two are all good here?" Marshall asked. 
Dessie hugged a pillow from the couch, pouting. "I don't like this." 
"Haven't you had a sleepover before?" Jazz asked her. 

"Not that. I don't like him." Dessie huffed. 
"Him?" Jazz asked, pointing to Marshall. 
"Me?" Marshall asked at the same time. 
"No! The one she's on a date with!" Dessie huffed. 

Marshall froze. "Your mom's on a date...? With who?" 
"Flint's uncle." Dessie muttered into her stolen pillow. 
Jazz bounced in place happily. "See? Now she gets the happy ending you wanted her to have, without stealing my daddy from me!" 

"No! He's not right." Dessie remarked. "I don't want Flint to be my brother, I want you to be my sister!" 
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on there. Even if-- if-- Fionna and I were still dating, we wouldn't get married straight away." Marshall held his hands out in front of him. 
"Why not?" Dessie demanded. 
"That's what the people in movies do." Jazz agreed. 

"Well, this isn't some romantic movie where I make a dash for the airport and we all live happily ever after, okay?! This is reality, and people don't get married after just meeting each other. Well, sometimes, but not often. Not here, anyway." 
"So you're not going to live happily ever after with my mommy?" Dessie asked in a small voice. 
Marshall laughed awkwardly. "Probably... probably not, no. Can I trust you two to not tear the room to shreds? I have to send a text." 

Across town, Fionna ducked into the bathroom to read a text from Marshall. 
Having fun on your date? 
She frowned for a second, before texting him back. 
Not really. How's Dessie?

Wow, it must really be bad if you're admitting it. Want to come up for a drink afterwards?

This isn't a date-type thing, right? 
Nah. I never got you that drink, remember? Totally platonic, I promise. 
Fionna hesitated for a minute, before answering. 

Marshall was returning to the girls when his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Okay.