Work Text:
G.B. had tried to explain to Monochrome that Marshall Lee's night spent at his house meant nothing. Well, all right, it meant something, but just what that something was... G.B. didn't feel like inspecting it. They had a truce. That was all he knew.
But apparently he had not done a good job of communicating it, or MoChro had ignored him, because Cake confronted him a few days later, at one of Fionna's martial arts meets.
"Now, look, you and Marshall Lee can fool around all the way you want to," she said, fixing him with a glare. "I won't say a word. Never mind that it's stupid and Dae-Phuk told me all about what happened last time. It's your life and your choices, and I know you're smart enough to make the right ones, even if it might not look like it from the outside." She narrowed her eyes. "Even if it really might not look like it from the outside. It's none of my business. Here's what is my business."
She poked him in the chest with one of her long, perfectly manicured nails. G.B. had known her for about a year and a half now, and he had never seen any one of her nails chipped, scratched, broken, or even short. "Fionna loves you." She poked him again; G.B. recognized this as a command to look her in the face from when she used this same tactic on Fionna.
Meeting her eyes was hard. It was not news that Fionna was in love with him. He wished it weren't true, but it was, and he hadn't known what to do with it from the first day he met her. He'd tried ignoring it, and it hadn't worked. G.B. wondered if she wanted a response from him. He opened his mouth, but she shook her head.
"Don't even try, Jeebles. You're a genius everywhere else, but you gotta be stupid at something, and this is something. I just want one thing from you." Finally, she put her hands on her hips. At least now G.B. wouldn't have to worry about getting stabbed again. "You gotta talk to her honest. You two have never really talked about her feelings or your feelings or anybody's feelings, and she ain't gonna notice you're with Marshall Lee unless the two of you send out wedding invites."
G.B. wanted to say that in no way were he and Marshall Lee a couple, but he knew better than to correct Cake when she was on a roll. "How am I supposed to do that?" G.B. asked at last, lifting his eyes back to Cake's face.
She shrugged. "I don't know. But I expect you to try. When you mess it up, I'll be here to pick up the pieces. But that's what I want from you. One honest conversation with Fi. Otherwise you're going down, handsome or no."
***
So. All right. He and Marshall Lee had not agreed on anything. They hadn't come to any terms. Marshall Lee wasn't staying with him, they weren't kissing, they were barely even touching. But he showed up at G.B.'s window, more often than not. He seemed to be able to sense when G.B. had given up on him and was ready for bed, but also when it seemed like they were about to get into a routine so he could confuse it.
Thankfully, that night the knock came at his window at a reasonable hour, just after ten. G.B. pushed the window open and stepped aside so Marshall Lee could climb through. "You know you don't have to knock. I leave it open for you."
Marshall Lee shrugged. He smelled faintly of smoke, and on his face were remnants of the gray makeup he wore to look more like a vampire.
"I didn't know you had a show tonight. Fionna tells me that kind of thing," said G.B., cocking his head. He wanted to wipe away the streak of gray still under Marshall Lee's eye, but he put his hands in the pockets of his pajama bottoms instead.
Marshall Lee shook his head. "This was a private gig. Some rich kid paid a mint for us to perform at his birthday so he could brag to all his rich douche friends." He shrugged again. "It was good money, though, and it went to us, not the record company."
G.B. wasn't sure what to say to that. He wasn't sure if Marshall Lee was well off or not--he mentioned money about as frequently as he had two years ago, before he was famous, which was to say he didn't mention money at all, except to tease G.B. for having it. Instead, he moved to the next topic of import as Marshall Lee set down his backpack. "Did you talk with your mother today?"
Marshall Lee shrugged. "She called me. Left a voicemail. I was busy getting ready for the show." His voice was truculent, but not hostile. G.B. still was not sure what was going on between Marshall Lee and his mother, only that the mention of her didn't make him as angry as it used to.
Marshall Lee looked at what G.B. was working on and blew a raspberry, then bumped G.B. with his foot. "What's on your mind, gumdrop?"
G.B. stiffened at the nickname, but didn't otherwise acknowledge it. Another thing that kept popping up between them. Another thing he didn't know what to make of.
But denying the truth in Marshall Lee's words was pointless. G.B. sighed in disgust and tipped his head back. "Cake wanted to talk to me today," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He started to rub his forehead, but Marshall Lee nudged his hand away and started massaging it for him.
G.B. closed his eyes. Part of him wanted to knock Marshall Lee's hand away on principle, but it felt really good. He hadn't realized he'd been so tense ever since talking to Cake even though A) he'd known such a reckoning was coming and B) it hadn't been bad at all. Cake was not above threatening people she didn't want around Fionna, but she liked G.B., no matter his choices. Whatever those choices were. Even he wasn't sure.
"She told me I have to tell Fionna it's not happening," he said at last and let out a long breath.
Marshall Lee laughed softly, and G.B. pulled away, frowning. Marshall Lee just shrugged, pushing his way further onto the desk and shoving away G.B.'s textbooks in the process. G.B. rolled his eyes, but it was perfunctory.
"Nah, it's just funny. I felt bad for her the second minute I saw her with you."
"I don't treat her that badly, do I?" G.B. was aiming for angry, but it came out nervous. He worried about Fionna. Sometimes he wondered if he should have walked away the minute he got out of the hospital, instead of being friends with her even though he knew she wanted more.
Marshall Lee shook his head. He dropped his eyes, then lifted them back to G.B.'s face with a hint of defiance. "Nah. I just know how much it sucks to be in love with you."
G.B. took in a breath, then shook his head. "No," he said, closing his eyes. "If you want to talk like that, you can leave."
"I'm not gonna push it, but I’m not going to lie about it either.” His voice was surprisingly gentle. “I’m not the only one who needs to change to make this work. Loosen up before you break."
It didn't help. G.B. was still stiff and brittle inside, and he did not appreciate it. "Easy for you to say," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're nothing but loose."
Marshall Lee snorted. "Not where it counts, sugarplum."
G.B. rolled his eyes. "That's not even good, Marshall Lee," he said. "If you’re going to be obscene, do it well.”
Marshall Lee shrugged, unapologetic. "So you've gotta talk to Fionna." He paused, screwing up his face. "I was gonna say that won't be that bad, but, yeah, it probably will be."
"I was just... I was hoping this would all go away on its own." He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the desk. He took in a deep, slow breath, just to prove to himself that he could.
Marshall Lee put a hand on his shoulder, so lightly it could have been an accident. G.B. didn't lean into the touch, but he didn't move away, either. He was still trying to decide how he felt about contact with Marshall Lee. Not bad. But not the same. Nothing was the same. "You're pretty cut up about this, huh?" His voice was cautious.
G.B. let out his breath, just as slowly. He wasn't—stressed, exactly. Ever since the day he met Fionna and she looked at him like he hung the sun, he knew this was coming. If he was honest with himself, he should have done it years ago. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't have a lot of friends." He put his hand down, frowning at the desk. "I don't know what it says about me that one of the only ones I've got is a teenage girl."
"It means you're cool, because she's cool." Marshall Lee swung his legs. He took his hand away so he could rub his jaw. G.B. watched him, expressionless. "Look. It ain't gonna be fun. But Fionna's not stupid, either. She knows. Somewhere in her she knows you don't want her that way." He glanced sideways at G.B. At first, G.B. wanted to look away, but he made himself meet Marshall Lee's eyes. Marshall Lee looked back steadily, without flinching.
"Will you be around?" G.B. said, narrowing his eyes slightly. "If I talk to her. I don't want you there. But... I don't want to have to find you with Google, either."
Marshall Lee put his hand on the side of G.B.'s face. G.B. accepted it without changing his expression. It felt good. "Told you, gumdrop. I've got a phone now. All you've gotta do is call."
For a second, G.B. thought Marshall Lee was going to lean forward and kiss him, and for a second, G.B. thought he would allow it.
Then Marshall Lee screwed up his face and put his hand back on his thigh. "Don't text me, though. I don't like that shit. It's weird."
G.B. let out a disgusted sigh and closed his eyes, though inside him there was a small flame. "Someday. Someday you will join this century."
"Nah, man, why would I want to live in a world where Jimi Hendrix is dead?"
G.B. stared at him. "Jimi Hendrix has been dead for a long time. Since before either of us were born."
Marshall Lee patted his shoulder. "That's why you gotta invent a time machine, dude, so I can go back and learn to jam from the master." He spread his hands in front of him as though studying an imaginary marquee. "Then I could change my look. Do some sixties shit. I'm getting bored with the vampire thing—it was just a gimmick, you know?"
G.B. rolled his eyes. "Everything is a gimmick with you."
Marshall Lee looked back at him, and he was still smiling like a trickster in a fable, but his eyes were deadly serious. "Not everything, gumdrop."
***
Marshall Lee did end up spending the night. Sometimes he did and sometimes he didn't; like everything else about Marshall Lee, it wasn't predictable or reliable.
But tonight apparently he didn't feel like going back to the hotel. He sat on the edge of G.B.'s desk, watching him work, and then he nudged G.B. with his foot. "Can I shower?"
G.B. pushed at his thigh for an answer.
Marshall Lee stuck out his tongue, then hopped off the desk.
He reappeared a while later in basketball shorts and a wifebeater, which G.B. rolled his eyes at even as he tucked his books away. He'd changed into his own pajamas while Marshall Lee was out of the room, and honestly he hadn't gotten any work done since Marshall Lee had arrived. But it was good to pretend. He needed to make sure these rituals were still in place. Just in case.
What just in case was, he didn't let himself think about. Things... things right now were not bad. And maybe they would stay that way.
Marshall Lee flopped face first onto the bed, managing somehow to take up most of it even though he could sleep on a twin with plenty of space left over.
G.B. got to his feet and stretched, putting his hands on the small of his back. "You need to move."
Marshall Lee mumbled something into the covers.
"You need to move," G.B. repeated, turning off his desk lamp. He waited for his eyes to adjust before drawing the curtain. Marshall Lee shuffled around. When G.B. turned back to the bed, Marshall Lee had rolled into his corner, but he had taken all the blankets with him. "You do this every night." G.B. sat down at the edge of the bed. "What do you think it's going to accomplish?"
Only Marshall Lee's eyes showed over the top of the blankets. "I figure maybe one of these days you'll get annoyed enough to get your spares."
"On a cold day in hell," said G.B., but mildly. He stretched out and tugged at the edge of the blanket.
Marshall Lee relinquished without a fight. "One of these days you'll do it, and I'll win, and life will be great."
G.B. snorted, pulling the covers up to his chin. "Unlikely."
"Everybody's gotta have a dream, right?" Marshall Lee nudged up against him, and G.B. raised his arm so Marshall Lee could press his back against G.B.'s side.
As he did every night, G.B. thought about asking him what they were doing. But he thought of what Marshall Lee had said earlier—I know how much it sucks to be in love with you—and. No. Not tonight. He had no idea when, but he wasn’t going to worry about that. Much.
***
Arranging time alone with Fionna was hard. She was a popular girl, after all—every week she was introducing G.B. to someone new. And trying to figure out how to phrase it while making sure to promise nothing that might get her hopes up. He wasn't sure he could do that at all.
But the easiest way to deal with hard things was to get them out of the way first thing in the morning, so the next day, after he got out of bed and Marshall Lee rolled on his side, away from the crack of light through the curtains, he picked up his phone, silenced the alarm, and walked out into the living room without even showering first. Then he called Fionna, putting the phone on the table on speaker. He knew she'd be up: Fionna was usually dressed and ready by sunrise so she could run through a form of whatever martial art she was studying for a belt exam that week.
He also knew she'd be surprised, and she was. "What's up, Jeebles?" she asked, answering on the second ring. "Something bad happen?"
"Nothing bad, Fionna." Yet. "Did you want to come over for dinner?"
"Heck yeah I do!" said Fionna without hesitation. It sort of hurt to hear that. She'd been cool to him ever since her Halloween party—not so anyone else noticed, but he did. Things weren’t the same between them ever since Marshall Lee showed up, but he had just brought the issue to a head, not caused it.
G.B. was grateful for that, in a way. He wasn't sure if he'd ever have had the courage otherwise.
"Good. What would you like?"
"Ummmmmm..." He could almost see her rocking back and forth on her heels. "How about nachos?"
That was easy enough. "Cream puffs?" At the very least, he'd have sweets to soften the blow.
"Aww yisss." Fionna paused, and then she added, "Something up, Jeebles?"
G.B. winced. He didn't have to wonder if he was that transparent; he knew he was. "No, everything's okay. But we haven't had a lot of hang-out time lately, huh?"
Fionna huffed. "I guess not. I didn't mean to be a cruddy friend. Just been doing a lot of stuff. High school is hard."
"It's not you, Fionna," said G.B. quickly. "College is also hard. That's why I thought we should have a nice evening. Catch up a little bit."
"Okay." Fionna hummed to herself. "Who's gonna give me a ride? Cake's working late tonight, and I can't walk all the way over to your place."
"I can pick her up," said Marshall Lee from the doorway. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and another around his dreads.
G.B. glanced up in surprise, then glanced at his phone. But Fionna hadn't said anything, so she hadn't heard. "Marshall Lee can pick you up. If you don't mind riding on a motorcycle, that is."
Fionna shrieked.
G.B. winced, though not from the noise. "And if you don't tell Cake, because she'll skin me alive if she knew."
Fionna giggled. "Like I'd ever be dumb enough to tell Cake. She never lets me do anything fun." She paused, and then her voice grew suspicious. "He's not hanging out too, is he?"
G.B. shook his head. "Just you and me. He's only coming by to steal some cream puffs." He glanced up at Marshall Lee with a cautious smile.
Marshall Lee raised one hand in a thumbs-up, letting the towel slide down to expose his hipbones. G.B. did not look. Instead, he shook his head. "It'll be just you and me, Fi, like old times."
Fionna's tone brightened. "Okay. That sounds good. See you after school, Jeebles."
"See you soon."
"Byeeeee!"
G.B. pressed the end call button. He knew from experience that Fionna would draw out her end salutation until she ran out of breath.
He looked over at Marshall Lee, who had pulled the towel back up and was watching G.B., the smallest of smiles on his face. G.B. felt himself smiling back, even though this was going to be a difficult day. "You don't mind getting her?"
Marshall Lee shrugged. "Nah. I was gonna just lurk around all day anyway. Maybe do a livestream or something. The rest of the band took a trip."
G.B. raised his eyebrows. "Without you?"
Marshall Lee shrugged. It was hard to tell if he was wearing an innocent expression because he hadn't actually done anything or because he didn't read anything into G.B.'s words. "Yeah, I really want to be the fifth wheel while Nate and Jimmy try to get with as many drunk college girls as possible."
G.B. looked away. "Not interested in the drunk college boys?"
Marshall Lee snorted. "If you're trying to fuck with me, Jeebles, do better."
"Only Fionna gets to call me Jeebles, I'll have you know," said G.B., crossing his arms. He was embarrassed at being called out, but he would never admit it.
"Cake calls you Jeebles too."
"I make it a point to not give edicts that will be ignored. Cake gets to do whatever she wants."
Marshall Lee smirked. "I don't listen to you either, gumdrop."
"Yes, but you have no right to be that way," said G.B. "Nobody gave you permission."
"Bitch, I am the permission," said Marshall Lee, looking offended.
"That doesn't even make sense."
But Marshall Lee was already walking away, hopefully to put some clothes on.
***
When Marshall Lee came back into the room, G.B. was halfway through getting ready for dinner. He'd made sure he had everything for the nachos, and now he was getting started on the cream puffs, since the shells would have to cool down before he could put the frosting inside.
Marshall Lee, as usual, had to get in the middle of it, though for once he just stared at the ingredients instead of stealing something. "You're really making cream puffs?"
"I said I would," said G.B., making sure his cup of flour was perfectly even. If he was making these for something important, he would have weighed it out, but Fionna would be happy with anything. He set the cup of flour down and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think how many eggs he needed to make a large enough batch for all three of them.
Marshall Lee nudged him with a foot. "Something on your mind, gumdrop?"
"No," he said automatically.
Marshall Lee nudged him again, harder. Not a kick, but close.
G.B. put his hand down so he could rub his jaw instead, avoiding Marshall Lee's eyes. "...There's no way I won't ruin this."
Marshall Lee watched him for a moment; G.B. stared straight ahead. Marshall Lee slipped in the space between G.B. and the counter. G.B. glared, but perfunctorily. "You're in the way."
"G.B. Don't give me that robot shit." Marshall Lee gripped G.B.'s chin, making him look up. The touch turned into a caress, and Marshall Lee cupped his cheek. "It's gonna be okay. Fionna ain't gonna give up on you. You said it yourself. She holds on hard."
"Not to people who break her heart," G.B. said quietly.
Marshall Lee shrugged, his expression unreadable. "It's gonna be okay," he repeated. He kissed G.B. on his opposite cheek, light as a butterfly resting on your fingertip. Then he moved away.
G.B. blew out a breath. "I need to finish these," he said, absently putting a hand up to touch the spot where Marshall Lee kissed him.
"I know," said Marshall Lee, already on his way out of the room. "But it won't take you long."
It didn't. G.B. decided against making the frosting yet since the shells would have to cool before he could do anything with them. So he set the finished puffs on a cooling rack and walked out into the living room.
Marshall Lee was noodling around on his bass, which was not surprising. What was surprising was that he had a Chromebook set up on the coffee table, and from the chimes coming from it, he was livestreaming.
He glanced up when G.B. came in, though his fingers didn't still until he finished the measure he was playing. "Thought you'd be in there longer, gumdrop," he said, retuning one of his strings.
"I have to let them set," said G.B., putting his hands on his hips. "But I'll go back and start on the nachos."
Marshall Lee glanced up, with that smirk that always looked like it should have had fangs. "Nah, man, c'mere. I'm streaming, and now everybody's asking if I've lost my mind." He nodded at the keyboard in the corner. "Come jam with me, man."
G.B. hesitated. He hadn't touched his keyboard in months. Once in a while he played with Fionna and Cake or MoChro, but not often. Not since Marshall Lee left the first time.
But unlike the econ homework that waited for him upstairs or the nachos that could be made back in the kitchen, playing music would get his mind off things. So he complied, stepping around the webcam's field of view. Marshall Lee strummed the chorus line to one of his songs.
He sat down on the couch and tried not to look too cranky as Marshall Lee adjusted his webcam. "Do you have to put me on camera?" he asked, making a face.
"Yeah, duh, everyone was asking who I was talking to," said Marshall Lee, pointing at the comments on the video. He grinned. "Now they're all saying you're hot."
G.B. glared at him. "Are we going to do this or not?"
Marshall Lee stuck out his tongue. "This is why you could never be a musician, man. It's all about interacting with the people." He looked directly into the webcam. "This is G.B., by the way. He doesn't want you to know he's not a total stuffed shirt, but he isn’t."
G.B. rolled his eyes, adjusting the volume level on his keyboard.
Marshall Lee leaned over and flipped on one of the drum tracks. He made a face, then picked another one. "There. That's better. Now do something cool. I'll follow along."
G.B. thought for a minute, then played a D major chord, an A major chord, a B minor chord, and a G major chord.
Marshall Lee glared at him. "Dude, what do you think this is? N'Sync?"
G.B. smirked, even though he wasn't completely comfortable with being watched by a large number of Marshall Lee's fans. "Just making sure you were paying attention."
"Okay, fine, do that again." Marshall Lee flipped the record button on his keyboard, and G.B. played the same set of chords. Marshall Lee pressed another button, looping the chords over the drumbeat. "There." He looked back into the webcam. "Anyway, here's Wonderwall."
"No," said G.B. "You're not that much of a sellout."
Marshall Lee winked at him. "Oh, gumdrop, you know I've always been a whore." He pinched G.B.'s cheek. G.B. did not flip him off, but only because they were on camera.
"No, really," said Marshall Lee, picking up his bass. "This is actually 'Can You Feel the Love Tonight.’"
***
They went on like that for the better part of an hour, until G.B.'s wrists started to hurt since he wasn't used to playing anymore. Marshall Lee shut down the stream, then turned to smirk at him. "Everybody's gonna be asking me who you are now, you know."
"I know," said G.B., turning off his keyboard. He was smiling. More than that. He was actually... relaxed. He hadn't felt this calm in a long while. "For once, you had a good idea, though."
"I have plenty of good ideas."
G.B. could have said some things, but he didn't. Instead, he said, "I've got to make the cream puffs."
***
Cooking didn't make him feel any better, nor did his homework, but at least he could say he'd accomplished something. When the end of the day rolled around and Marshall Lee left to pick up Fionna, he tried to sit on the couch and read, but it was pointless, and he ended up pacing back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, peering out the small window over the sink to see if they were back yet. Even though he knew how long it would take them to return and that he would hear Marshall Lee's motorcycle pull up.
And he did. The noise was deafening, but maybe because his ears were overly sensitive right now. He set the nachos and the cream puffs on two separate plates on the kitchen table, then leaned against the counter, trying to inhale calm and exhale anxiety.
Fionna and Marshall Lee were laughing when they came inside. Fionna hopped up on the counter next to G.B., and he tried to smile at her, but it died on his lips. She frowned, but luckily Marshall Lee spoke up.
"This is my blood money, right?" said Marshall Lee, picking up the tray of cream puffs.
G.B. glared at him. "Not the entire plate. What would you even do with a dozen cream puffs?"
Marshall Lee considered this. "Give them to homeless people?"
G.B. opened his mouth, then closed it. "That's an admirable goal. But we can make some more. This particular plate is for Fionna."
Fionna snorted. "I don't think I can eat an entire plate myself either, Jeebles. I mean, I can try."
"Please don't. Cake would never forgive me." He slid off the counter and got a tupperware container out of the cabinet. He stacked all but three of the cream puffs inside, then handed it to Marshall Lee. "Here. We'll make some more later, but these are yours to do with as you wish."
Marshall Lee smiled at him in that lazy, irritating way that always made G.B. want to chase him out of the kitchen with a broom. "Sure you want me to go, Jeebles?" He raised his eyebrows in a way that made it clear that the question was not a joke.
G.B. shook his head sharply. "It'll be fine. Come back later, though," he said, before he could stop himself. "There'll be nachos leftover. I want to make sure you actually eat something."
Marshall Lee gasped and pressed the hand that wasn't holding the tupperware to his heart. "Jeebles. It's almost like you care."
"I would care more if you stopped calling me Jeebles."
Marshall Lee snorted. "Okay, okay." He looked over G.B.'s shoulder at Fionna. "Still on for practice this week, Fi?"
"Uh-huh!" Fionna chirped.
Marshall Lee slipped out of the room, and G.B. turned to Fionna. To his surprise, she was regarding him with narrowed eyes. "Is something wrong, Fionna?" he asked. He wasn't even trying to stall; she so rarely looked anything but chipper.
She nodded, screwing up her face and crossing her arms over her chest. She was still wearing her school uniform; she tapped her patent leather shoes against the cabinet, and G.B. didn't even feel compelled to scold her because her face was grave. "I need your advice," she said, after a pause that, again, was not characteristic of her.
G.B. shifted. "Fionna..."
"It's important," she said. “I know you wanted to talk to me about something, but I wanna talk about this first.” Something flashed over her face, there and gone too quickly for G.B. to understand it.
G.B. let out a breath. Well. All right. Usually what Fionna thought of as a dire emergency was nothing more than a dressed up bit of high school drama. Not that G.B. knew how to deal with high school drama, but Fionna seemed to think he did. He came to sit next to her on the counter. "What's the matter? Having trouble in school?"
Fionna didn't bite. Usually she blushed or stammered if he brought up academics; she was never going to be a fantastic student, but she was already shaping up to be good at so many other things, like rugby and martial arts and fencing, that it didn't seem to matter. She'd find a place for herself.
But right now she stared straight ahead, lowering her chin to her crossed arms. "It's not about me," she said at last. "I think..." She looked at him, and G.B. forgot his own concerns for a moment, since she looked more worried than he'd ever seen. "There's a kid in my class, and I think they're being abused."
G.B.'s brows snapped together. "What makes you say that?" A beat after. "And why are you telling me and not Cake or your teacher?"
Fionna glared at him. "Because I don't know if it's true or not. If I tell my teacher, they have to talk to the cops and stuff, and I don't want to get their parents in trouble if there's nothing going on. If I tell Cake, Cake'll just freak out and go all rage monster. That's not what I need either." Her face softened. "I need you. You've got a big thinky brain, and you can help me figure this out."
G.B. was too used to things like "big thinky brain" to even crack a smile; instead, he considered her face. She was serious, of course. Fionna would never lie about something like this. But it was more than that. "Well. All right. Those are good points, Fi. Why don't we eat and you can tell me about it over nachos?"
Fionna nodded and slid off the counter.
G.B. felt a little twist of guilt, but this was important. And apparently he'd be spending a lot of time with Fionna, so he'd have time to figure out to tell her.
When both of them had plates covered in cheese, chips, and every condiment under the sun, just the way Fionna liked her nachos, G.B. pointed at her. "Okay, shoot. What makes you think this person is having trouble at home?"
"They're too thin," she said immediately. "Like Marshall Lee." G.B. blinked, and Fionna pointed at him with a chip. "Don't tell me you don't know. You feed him all the time, Jeebles. I worry about him."
G.B. just nodded, because he wasn't sure how else to respond. "All right, so you think they're not getting fed enough." He frowned. "Are they a scholarship student?"
Fionna attended a private academy, hence why she had such extracurriculars as fencing and hapkido. She was there on a scholarship for disadvantaged kids and her not inconsiderable rugby record.
But Fionna shook her head. "I don't think so. They make kids like me do special seminars and stuff—you know, to make sure we apply for college. This kid is never there, and they're in my grade, so we should be in the same one." She paused. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure their dad is on the board of directors for the school. So that's another reason I don't wanna say anything."
G.B. nodded. He scooped cheese onto a chip. "What else?"
Fionna blew out a breath. "Well, today they had a black eye. And it got me thinking. I mean, you can get a bruise like that anywhere, but I've seen others—they almost always wear long sleeves and pants, but a couple times, I've seen them in the short sleeved uniform, and they have bruises on their wrist. I mean, I'm always banged up, but... they're not in sports or anything." She rubbed her forearm, bruised and scraped from a recent skateboarding fumble. "And they don't really have any friends or talk to anybody, as far as I can tell." She tugged on one of her hat's ears. "Not that I've been paying attention. We just had a project together a while ago, and since then... since then I can't stop noticing."
Fionna's face was usually as easy to read as a child's board book; she never bothered to disguise her secrets and would have been insulted at the idea that she needed to, since everyone was either a new friend to be embraced or a creep to be punched. Friends didn't want you to hide your feelings, and creeps didn't matter.
But now... She looked like the same Fionna: scabby knees because she was always beefing it at the skate park or elsewhere; floppy, battered rabbit hat; crooked teeth. Except that she wasn't.
G.B. looked her over and realized that Cake hadn't just come to him because of Marshall Lee. "You're growing up," he said softly.
Fionna blinked and looked up at him. "Huh?"
G.B. shook his head, glad she hadn't heard his comment. She would never take it the right way, and if he tried to explain, he would only screw it up. Instead, he said, "That does sound worrisome, Fionna. The question remains. What do you want me to do about it? I can't come to your school."
"Yeah, but you can come to my tournaments. And they're gonna be there. I asked 'em to." She tugged on her hat ear again; G.B. gently moved her hand away before she ripped it, which she had done before when she was upset. She sighed. "I figure maybe if I can get them to meet you and Marshall Lee and Cake and stuff, maybe I can get 'em to come over and talk about what's going on or something. I'm worried."
She was always worried about one thing or another. Maybe not obviously, since she spent most of her time grinning and laughing—but Fionna took everything on herself.
G.B. nodded. He wanted to pat her shoulder, but he didn't. After all, he had chickened out. Hopefully Cake wouldn't kick his ass too badly, but she'd understand once he explained.
Fionna wasn't finished, though. She lifted her eyes to his, looking more solemn than he would have thought she could. "And if we find out they're really in trouble, will you help me? I'm not good at talking to people. I'd ask Cake, but she'll get too upset if she finds out."
Now G.B. did pat her shoulder. "Of course, Fionna."
He knew, rationally, that he needed to talk to her now.
But he was a coward. So instead he said, "Eat your dinner, Fionna. You need to build up more muscle if we're gonna kick this guy's ass."
Fionna snorted. "You sound so weird when you say ass." And for a minute, it was like nothing had changed.
***
Marshall Lee came back a few hours later, because G.B. called him to come pick Fionna up. He was still trying to get used to the idea that he could call Marshall Lee and get an answer. That he would come when G.B. asked him to, and he would smile that quiet, secret smile when G.B. answered the door, like there was a kiss behind his lips that he wanted to give to G.B.
Not that G.B. would have allowed it when Fionna was around. He wasn't sure if he wanted to allow it at all. But... it was nice to know he had the option.
Fionna jumped up off the couch when Marshall Lee answered the door. "Cool! I get to ride your bike again?"
"I told you he was taking you home," said G.B, leaning against the wall.
Fionna shrugged. "It's still awesome. We have to park down the street, though."
Marshall Lee cocked his head. "I thought Cake was at work."
Fionna shrugged again. "She might be home early, and if she finds out you took me on your motorcycle, she'll skin us both and use us as fancy winter coats."
Marshall Lee snorted. "It's spring now, Fi. Why would she need coats?"
But Fionna stared back at him flatly. "Leather takes a long time to cure, Marshall Lee."
He blinked, then glanced at G.B. "Did you know she could be this creepy?"
"She gets it from Cake," said G.B., the smallest of smiles playing over his lips. "And don't think that's an empty threat, either. Now the two of you should go. It's almost Fionna's curfew."
Fionna whined. "I don't need a curfewwwww," she said, flopping back on the couch.
"Yes, but that's not my decision to make. Off you get. Don't forget Cake's cream puff or she'll never forgive me."
Fionna skipped toward the door, but she paused. "You won't forget what we talked about, right?" she asked G.B., her face solemn. "I wasn't joking."
But G.B. shook his head. "I know you weren't, Fi. We'll figure it out."
Fionna nodded and latched onto Marshall Lee's arm. Marshall Lee shot G.B. a questioning look over the top of her head, but G.B. shook his head and mouthed, I'll tell you later.
Marshall Lee shrugged and let Fionna drag him out the door.
***
Surprisingly, Marshall Lee didn't interrupt once when G.B. told him what happened. He listened with a guileless expression that was probably supposed to set G.B. at ease but just made him want to push Marshall Lee off the bed so he'd act normally.
He went back to normal when G.B. finished. "So you chickened out," he said, crossing his arms over his chest
G.B. glared at him. "I'm glad that's the only thing you took away from all that."
Marshall Lee ignored his tone. "Well, the whole point was for you to do something, and you didn't do it. I'm not blaming you for getting distracted, but you gotta figure out how sooner rather than later. You know that, and it's the only reason you're bitching at me for saying something."
G.B. wanted to argue with him. But Marshall Lee was right. G.B. thought about pushing him off the bed anyway, but instead he huffed and rested his head on his knees. "I do know that," he muttered. "I'm going to talk to her. But I don't know where to start. Now more than ever."
Marshall Lee pushed him with his foot, and G.B. glared at him. "If you've got something to say, then say it."
Marshall Lee looked back at him without giving any ground. "And if you've got some more guts to spill, then spill 'em. I don't get to be a coward, so that means you don't get to be either."
G.B. narrowed his eyes. "I'm not trying to change the subject, but what on earth do you mean by that?"
"You're totally changing the subject." Marshall Lee made a face, pulling his knees up against his chest so they were inverted mirror images, one dark, one light. "But I'll tell you if you 'fess up."
G.B. blew out a breath. "Fine. Okay. I didn't..." His mouth twisted to the side, but he made himself keep talking, since he got after Marshall Lee for trailing off. "I didn't say anything because I was hoping that maybe..." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the wall. "That maybe Fionna likes this person instead of me now."
Marshall Lee frowned. "You have eyes, don't you?"
"I know it's wishful thinking. You don't have to rub it in." He nudged Marshall Lee with his foot. "But you told me to be honest, and that's honest. It's not that..." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I've tried to tell Fionna. I've done my best to never lead her on. I thought she would grow out of it. She's already been pushed around by life. I never wanted to add to that."
Marshall Lee nudged him back, and G.B. reluctantly lifted his eyes. "Yeah, but she's tough as nails. And you're not leaving her cold. She's not dumb, gumdrop. Some part of her knows you can't love her the way she wants. It just hasn't made it all the way upstairs yet. I know a lot about that."
G.B. frowned, and Marshall Lee looked back evenly without elaborating, because of course he did.
G.B. sighed again. "All right. Your turn."
Marshall Lee uncurled himself and moved to sit against the headboard, next to G.B. G.B. kept his arms around his knees, since he was annoyed with Marshall Lee. And not quite ready to admit he needed comfort, either. He was older than everyone else involved (except Cake and MoChro). Playing the adult shouldn’t have been so difficult.
Marshall Lee looked at him evenly. It was so easy to forget he was a year or two younger—Marshall Lee refused to discuss his birthday, so G.B. wasn't sure how much. "I've been trying not to be such a scaredy cat," he said at last, putting his hand on G.B.'s knee. G.B. looked at Marshall Lee's hand instead of his face. This was a lot to deal with in one day. "Because it scares the shit out of me. Coming back here. Like this is a place that could be my home. Like this is a place where somebody wants me around. I don't get to keep stuff like that, G.B. And I don't..." He shifted his weight and pressed his shoulder against G.B.'s. "I know I don't deserve it."
G.B. let out a breath. He kept staring straight ahead, but he put his hand on top of Marshall Lee's to keep it there. "I don't want to keep holding it over you," he said, his voice tight. "It's not like you can sit shiva so many days and then I'll magically be over it."
"And it's not like I can do whatever the fuck you're talking about and be ready to settle down with a picket fence and a rainbow flag," Marshall Lee replied, his tone even. He turned to look at G.B.; G.B. kept staring straight ahead. "But I fucked up. And I'm not doing it again, even though I'm terrified. But you're more important to me than being scared."
G.B. closed his eyes, his hand tightening on Marshall Lee's. His throat locked up, and he felt that familiar catch in his chest that had nothing to do with his asthma. "I'm scared too," he said at last. "I could live with you hurting me again. I could just never forgive myself for being stupid enough to let you."
Marshall Lee interlaced their fingers and didn't say anything.
***
The next day was the second round of Fionna's tournament. G.B. searched the crowd for Fionna's mystery person, but everyone was there with their families, so it was hard to spot anyone who looked like they didn't belong. And he only knew a handful of Fionna's friends from school.
Thankfully, Cake had to work, so G.B. was there in her stead. As was MoChro, but he had the good grace not to ask about Cake's scheme. G.B. thought about explaining Fionna's request, but she didn't want to tell Cake, and G.B. didn't want to make MoChro have to lie to his girlfriend, even if only by omission.
So they waited for the break between the first seed and the second. Fionna was doused in sweat, but, as always during competitions, she looked radiant. G.B. brought her two water bottles, since, also like always, she dumped the first one over her head, then took the second one to drink.
"One of these days you're going to go into shock from doing that," said G.B., passing her a towel to wipe off her face.
Fionna grinned. "It clears my head." She downed the second water bottle, crushed it, and tossed it in the recycling bin, then leaned toward him. "They're here."
G.B. glanced over his shoulder, as though there would suddenly be a spotlight on the person in question. "Where?"
Fionna squinted past him, then nodded. "In the back row of the bleachers."
Most of the spectators were out greeting their contestants or consoling the ones who hadn't moved forward, so the person in question stood out. G.B.'s eyes widened slightly. It was a girl with light brown skin and a thick black braid; she was frowning at a textbook, though her eyes occasionally flicked in their direction.
"It's a girl?" G.B. said, surprised despite himself.
"Yeah, duh, what did you think? Didn't I tell you her name?" G.B. shook his head mutely. "It's Kala."
G.B. bit the inside of his cheek. So much for the alternate suitor theory.
The girl glanced up again, and G.B. saw she did have the faded evidence of a black eye, though it was hard to recognize against her skin color. He looked back at Fionna. "So you want to go talk to her?"
Fionna nodded once, biting her lower lip. "Will you come with me? That way you can grab me and shove me in a trash can or something if I start saying something stupid."
G.B. rolled his eyes, though his lips were twitching. "I will change the subject, Fionna. I will not manhandle you."
He expected her to blush, but she laughed, wiping some more sweat off her face with the sleeve of her gi. "Okay, c'mon." She grabbed him by the hem of his sweater and tugged him along behind her, though she let go when they started up the bleachers.
Kala kept studying her textbook, only looking up when Fionna plopped down next to her, and that with her eyes narrowed. "Hello, Fionna," she said. She had the faintest Indian accent.
"Hi!" Fionna propped her elbows on her knees. "This is my friend G.B. Remember I told you about him?"
G.B. raised one hand in a wave, and Kala looked him over like she wasn't quite sure he was real. G.B. didn't react to this. Fionna had that effect on people; when he woke up in the hospital after his fateful asthma attack, he had been pretty sure Fionna was a fever dream.
"I don't know anything about martial arts," said Kala, looking at Fionna, her eyes still narrowed.
Fionna shrugged, looking slightly confused. "Most people don't."
Kala continued as though Fionna hadn't spoken. "But you seemed to do very well. You looked fierce."
Fionna laughed in surprise. "Fierce like Beyonce or fierce like..."
"Fierce like a man-eating monster," said Kala, closing her textbook.
That made Fionna choke, pressing her face into her sleeve to stifle her laughter. Kala frowned, as though unsure if she was being made fun of.
"I'd have to agree with that assessment, Fionna," said G.B., sitting down beside Kala. "I've told you before I would never want to run into you in a dark alley at night."
Fionna glanced up, confused. "But I'd never beat you up, Jeebles! You're a good guy." In her voice was the same loving certainty as always, and G.B. hunched his shoulders.
"I'm glad you think so," he said at last. He decided it was best to change the subject. "What are you studying, Kala?"
She held up the book so he could read the title.
"Art history," he said, nodding as though he knew anything about the subject. It was one of his few blank spots. "Are you an artist?"
Kala shrugged. She wasn't being reticent; she seemed to be waiting to see if G.B. was making fun of her or not.
Fionna elbowed him and said in not much of a whisperer, "She's good at painting. We have art together, and she does way better than me."
Kala tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips. "I like your paintings, Fionna. And your music."
Fionna shrugged. "You don't have to say so, Kala. I'm good at punching stuff, and that's okay with me." She mimed two quick jabs.
Kala watched her fists, her face unreadable. "I don't know anything about fighting," she said at last.
Fionna leaned toward her. "I can teach you," she said in a conspiratorial tone. "Never know when you're gonna run into a jerk and you might need to punch him."
"Martial arts is not about starting fights," said G.B., pushing his glasses up his nose. "Even I know that, and I have muscles like a limp noodle."
Fionna didn't respond to that, though she did flex her bicep subtly.
"It would be nice," said Kala, staring at Fionna's arms, though her mind was clearly elsewhere. "To know how to defend myself."
Fionna grinned. "Great! So you wanna come over to my place?"
Kala shrank into herself; the hesitant smile disappeared, leaving her as blank and sullen as when she'd been sitting alone. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Fionna. I'm supposed to be studying today."
"Well, if you were learning martial arts, you would be studying, wouldn't you?" said Fionna, screwing up her face. She stepped on G.B.'s foot, hard enough to make him wince.
At least he knew what she meant. "Semantics aside, that's true. And wouldn't your parents be glad to let you spend time with your friends?" G.B. suggested.
Kala's face shuttered. "I've only got my dad. He likes me to stay close."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said G.B. after a beat.
Fionna drummed her fingers on her lips. "Well, what're you taking for PE?"
Kala shrugged. "Soccer, but I'm not very good at it. The boys take the balls, and everyone else has to try and keep up, but I'm not very fast." She crossed her ankles.
"You've got it fifth period, though, right?"
Kala nodded, still avoiding Fionna's eyes.
"So transfer into martial arts with me," said Fionna, poking her knee. Kala looked at her sharply; Fionna either didn't notice the suspicion in her eyes or wasn't bothered by it. Probably a little of both. It took a lot to scare Fionna away; G.B. would know. "Then we can train together, and you'll totally be studying." She screwed up her face. "And you can help me with my chemistry, 'cause I suck at it."
Kala's lips twitched, though her eyes were still not quite in the moment. "Well. I'll see."
"Okay!" said Fionna. "I've gotta get ready for the next round. But you're staying here, right?"
Kala nodded. "Good luck," she said hesitantly.
Fionna just grinned and flexed her bicep again.
***
Fionna made it to second place. "I wanted you to see me win," she said when they came over after the end of the tournament. She accepted the water bottles from G.B., but it took him a minute to realize her words were directed at Kala, not him.
Kala wrinkled her nose. "I did see you win." She stepped away to avoid getting splashed as Fionna dumped the water bottle over her head. "You won six times."
Fionna looked confused. "Well, yeah, but I lost the tournament."
"You won six times," Kala repeated, pressing her art history textbook to her chest. She had stared at it the entire time but not made any progress.
Fionna shrugged and chugged the second water bottle. "So," she said, leaning back on her heels. "Jeebles and I go out for milkshakes after this. Wanna come?"
Kala shook her head. "I can't. I need to get home."
"So we'll give you a ride," G.B. suggested. Fionna bumped him in thanks.
"I have a driver," said Kala, but she shifted her weight
"We'll give you a ride," said Fionna, slinging an arm around Kala's shoulders. Kala looked at her skeptically, a typical response to Fionna.
"Okay. But I need to get home right away."
Fionna bobbed her head in agreement. "I just gotta get cleaned up." She went off to the locker rooms to change.
"You're welcome to come with us, you know," G.B. said, putting his hands in his pockets and trying to look relaxed and knowledgeable instead of awkward. "Fionna's always making new friends."
But that was apparently the wrong thing to say. Kala frowned and avoided his eyes. "I know," she said. "But I need to get home."
G.B. decided not to push his luck any further.
***
Kala lived in a mansion in the ritzy part of town. When she was safely inside, Fionna leaned forward from the backseat, propping her elbows on both headrests. "See what I mean?" she said, her face solemn.
"She's wealthy," said G.B., crossing his arms. "But I'm still not sure. Rich parents like to keep their kids close." He stopped himself before he could mention anything about abuse, since MoChro was driving.
Fionna shrugged. "I dunno either. But I'm hoping she'll tell me if we hang out and stuff." She sat down slowly; G.B. could almost see the gears turning in her head.
***
They did go out for milkshakes afterward. G.B. had told himself he ought to talk to her here, since they were alone—MoChro didn't like eating inside restaurants, so he was napping in the car—but Fionna had a one track mind about Kala, and all she wanted to do was discuss strategy. So G.B. went with it.
***
Over the next week, Fionna texted him updates—a welcome distraction, since Marshall Lee was playing a set in a different city. Never mind that he called G.B. every night. G.B. was still waiting for the silence to start.
Then Marshall Lee did come back, and G.B. felt better, at least about one thing. "Fionna goes through obsessions," he said, staring at the plastic stars on his ceiling. He'd had them up in his childhood bedroom, and his adult one hadn't looked right without them.
Marshall Lee tipped his desk chair back until it was almost parallel with the floor. "And you think her new one is this Rao kid?"
G.B. propped himself up on his elbows. "Did I tell you her last name?"
Marshall Lee blinked, then slowly raised the desk chair back to normal. "Nah, I don't think so. But I figure I know who you're talking about. Her dad is on the board of director's for my mom's company. Or, well, there's one super rich Indian guy who's got a daughter who goes to Fi's school. So. I used my brain." He tapped the side of his skull.
G.B. frowned, though he was not upset, he was thinking. "So your mother knows this guy?"
Marshall Lee frowned back at him, twisting his hips to turn the chair around until he was facing G.B. "I don't like it when you say it like that. It's not like they get together for some shitty parent expo or something. They work together."
"And we don't know if he's a bad parent yet." G.B. fell down on the bed. He'd only been meaning to air his thoughts so he wouldn't tell Marshall Lee he'd missed him, and now things were more complicated.
Marshall Lee scoffed. "Guys like that are always bad parents, dude. Either they ignore their kids, or they shove 'em in a box and don't let 'em out."
G.B. did not change his expression, although he was thinking of the way Kala kept herself so carefully controlled. He sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter if we know who he is. It's not like we can go up and ask if he's abusing his kid."
"Yeah, but there's another way to find out."
G.B. lifted his head so he could raise his eyebrows at Marshall Lee. Marshall Lee pushed himself up out of G.B.'s desk chair and shooed him over; G.B. obliged, letting Marshall Lee lay down beside him. "How do we find out?" G.B. asked, when Marshall Lee didn't immediately say anything. He was sure it would be a stupid answer, since Marshall Lee always had stupid things to say.
But Marshall Lee blew out a breath. "Well. Here's the deal." He turned only his head so he could look G.B. in the face; G.B. looked back, keeping his expression neutral even though he was curious. "My mom asked me if I would come to this big fancy corporate event she's having. Some kind of parent child bullshit. And I said no, unless she was gonna book my band, which, no way, not even if she said yes and paid me five million dollars."
G.B. raised his eyebrows again. "Why are you dissembling, Marshall Lee?"
"Sometimes I need a dictionary to talk to you, you know that?" G.B. ignored this, and Marshall Lee blew out a breath. "Well. You could go with me. And we can see what's up with this guy, since he should be there with his daughter."
G.B.'s first instinct was to ask if Marshall Lee was trying to get him to go on a date. He did not say that. Instead, he said, "We don't even know if this is the right guy."
Marshall Lee shrugged. "If nothing else, free fancy food. And you can go back and tell Fionna that you tried to figure out what's going on with this chick.”
"And you don't want to deal with your mother by yourself for an interminable social event?" G.B. asked, keeping his voice cool.
Marshall Lee shrugged. "There's that, yeah. But..." He put his hand on top of G.B.'s. "I want you to go with me, too. If nothing else, you can bitch about how the food's not up to your standards or whatever."
"I do not bitch about food."
"Dude. You totally do."
G.B. tried to push him off the bed, but Marshall Lee resisted, and G.B. decided it was not worth the effort, so he fell on his back again. "I suppose it can't hurt," he said at last, when he couldn't keep the words from falling out of his mouth any longer. "Do we have to dress up?"
Marshall Lee groaned, which was enough of an answer.
***
G.B. had a number of nice suits for special occasions, not because he needed them but because he liked nice clothing. And it made sense to have them on hand, just in case of situations like this. After all, eventually he’d go out in search of capital for his bakery, and that meant looking the part.
He'd expected Marshall Lee to pick him up on the motorcycle, dressed in his vampire suit, since that was the only one he owned. Neither was true. On Saturday night, a black car showed up at G.B.'s door. For a minute, he wondered if MoChro had bought something new, but no.
"You have a driver?" he asked Marshall Lee, coming down the front steps.
Marshall Lee made a face at him. "Good to see you too, gumdrop. And no, I do not. My mom does, and she wanted to make sure I'd show up on time."
G.B. wrinkled his nose, although it was better than riding on Marshall Lee's bike. "Does she know I'm coming?"
Marshall Lee rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, thanks for the third degree. Yes, she does. You're my plus one or what the fuck ever." He made a frustrated noise. "God, I feel like such a tool."
"Thank you. Now scoot over so I can get in."
"Sure you don't have any more annoying questions?"
G.B. shoved him back in the car. The driver didn't even bat an eye. As soon as G.B. shut the door, Marshall Lee pressed a button on his armrest to put up a barrier between the front and back seats. G.B. raised his eyebrows. "You've got tinted windows, and now you've just covered up the windshield. Do you not want me to know where we're going or something?"
"Sheesh, and you say I'm paranoid." Marshall Lee set his cheek on his hand, looking out the window. "Nah, I just don't want that guy to be creeping. I'm sure my mom is paying him extra to say stuff about you."
"About me?"
"Sure. She keeps asking me about you. I dunno if it's because you're a white boy or if she hasn't figured out that I'm gayer than a Rocky Horror Picture Show shadowcast." Marshall Lee turned his head so he could leer at G.B. "Anyway, this way we can make out to pass the time."
"Just for that, I'm reading the rest of the way there." And G.B. did, ignoring Marshall Lee's attempt to start a conversation since his efforts consisted of different obscene suggestions G.B. could try with different animals.
***
The ball was at Hanna Abadeer's office building; she had the basement reserved for parties just like this. They were one of the first guests, and Hanna immediately broke off her conversation with another businessman to greet Marshall Lee. "Look at you," she said, putting her hand on Marshall Lee's cheek. Marshall Lee stood still but didn't pull away. G.B. thought about reaching for Marshall Lee's hand, but he wasn't sure if Marshall Lee would welcome it or not.
She turned her attention to G.B., and Marshall Lee relaxed. G.B. was glad he always stood perfectly straight, thanks to Pepper's insistence. Hanna's regard felt like a hawk's, and it was nice to have good posture so she'd have one less thing to judge you for. "My boy cleans up well, doesn't he?"
G.B. nodded. "I guess you could say that," he said, only because Marshall Lee was watching him. "Thanks for the ride over here."
Hanna smiled. "I have a feeling you dislike his motorcycle as much as I do. I'm trying to make life easier on the both of us."
G.B. nodded, and Hanna nodded back. "Well. I have to go and schmooze with my other guests," she said, gesturing at the people who had just walked in. "Help yourselves to whatever you like. I'll be back."
Once she was across the room, Marshall Lee let out a breath. G.B. put a hand on the small of his back, not quite on purpose. Marshall Lee relaxed at the touch, incrementally. "That wasn't so bad," G.B. said, mostly as an experiment.
Marshall Lee didn't disagree. "Let's go get some snacks," he said, and took G.B.'s hand. G.B. didn't pull away. He would never say so out loud, but it was nice to be at a fancy dress party with Marshall Lee, holding hands. Talking with his mother and his mother's friends. Yes, Marshall Lee's mother was a hell beast under her exquisite makeup and perfect businesswoman's smile, but pretending she wasn’t for just one night was also nice.
They had delicious appetizers, but the pastries were store bought and not very good. Disappointing.
He expected Marshall Lee to disagree with him just for the sake of arguing, but Marshall Lee just snorted. "Nah, man, this is what you want to do. Just like I know that the music sucks because that's what I do." He paused. "And because my mom wouldn't know good music if it slapped her in the face."
G.B. nodded. They found a table where they could people watch and sat down.
The guests were not as white as usual at a corporate fancy dress dinner, so spotting Mr. Rao was not as easy as it seemed. G.B. recognized Kala first, standing stiffly at her father's side while they talked with a group of men.
G.B. nudged Marshall Lee, who glanced in that direction and nodded. "So. How are we scoping them out?"
G.B. hadn't thought this far. Marshall Lee's suggestion had been the most sensible one short of stalking Kala or heading to her father's mansion on some thin pretense, so he'd assumed it would work out once they got here. And now they were here, and wacky hijinks had not brought Mr. Rao within earshot, so they'd have to go figure something out.
"We could ask your mother to introduce us," G.B. said hesitantly, unsure how Marshall Lee would take it.
But Marshall Lee just screwed up his face. "I wanna eat my cake first," he replied. "Before talking to her makes me lose my appetite. And don't tell me it's not good or whatever. Bad cake is better than no cake."
That was very, very much not true, but G.B. decided against arguing the point. Better to save their argument for something more fun.
Once Marshall Lee was done, they headed into the crowd to find his mother. G.B. had no idea where she was, since the room had filled with snazzily dressed men and women of color, and they'd turned the shitty pop music up even though there wasn't room to dance.
But Marshall Lee made a beeline for her, taking hold of G.B.'s hand and pushing through the crowd like they weren't there.
Marshall Lee's mother was talking to a large group of black women, flanked by their children. She didn't look surprised when Marshall Lee appeared at her side; she put her hand on his shoulder. "There you are. Enjoying the food?"
"G.B. makes better cake," he informed her without quite meeting her eyes.
"You bake?" she asked G.B.
G.B. shrugged. Ordinarily he would have jumped at the chance to speak to a wealthy crowd like this. Business people were all inherently bored. If you could offer them excitement, or at least a lot of sweets, they'd throw money at you just to see what happened. Not that he needed a ton of money. But he didn’t want to draw too heavily on his savings.
Hanna still made him feel leery, though, and it wasn't just because of the way she treated Marshall Lee. When she looked at you, you could feel her trying to find the cracks she could squeeze into so she could control you.
Maybe he was projecting.
Hanna shrugged back, and then introduced each of the women and their children in turn, as well as their various companies or projects. Some of them worked for her, but most of them didn't.
"And this is my Marshall Lee," she finished, directing her words at the group in general.
The women continued to make polite conversation until one of them mentioned an app she liked and went to go get her phone. Finally, Hanna turned her attention to Marshall Lee. "Did you need something?"
Marshall Lee nodded in the direction of Mr. Rao. "That girl over there goes to school with one of our friends. We were wondering if you could introduce us to her dad. She's kind of shy about this stuff."
"Of course." She stepped between them, put a hand on each of their shoulders, and steered them toward Mr. Rao. G.B. did not care for it, but he knew better than to pull away.
Mr. Rao was talking with a woman and man, presumably husband and wife. They all turned toward Hanna when she approached. Kala was standing off to the side, her hands behind her back. When she recognized G.B., her eyes widened, and she dropped her gaze.
Hanna finally let go of the two of them. G.B. wanted to walk back over to Marshall Lee's side, but there was no inconspicuous way to do that. "Have you all met my son Marshall Lee yet?" She pointed the people out in turn: Mr. Rao and Kala, and the couple were the Drs. Little.
"I haven't had a chance to catch up with you two yet," she said, turning her attention to the couple. "Have you had any champagne yet?" They shook their heads. "Fair enough. Let's go get some drinks and see what we've each been up to, yes?"
The doctors nodded, and they walked away with Hanna.
Mr. Rao turned his attention to Marshall Lee. Kala stared at her feet. "I didn't know Hanna had a son," he said, looking the boy up and down.
Marshall Lee shrugged, not quite insolently. "I don't think she talks about me a lot. I'm not cut out for the corporate stuff."
"He's in a band, Dad," Kala said quietly.
Mr. Rao glanced down at her, almost as though he didn't recognize her. "A band? Really? What instruments do you play?"
Kala lifted her gaze again, briefly, and G.B. got the idea. He stepped around Marshall Lee so he could talk with her. She kept her voice soft, not quite whispering, but also not distracting from her father's conversation. "I thought you were Fionna's boyfriend."
G.B.'s brows snapped together. "Why?"
Kala shrugged, twisting her fingers together. "You came to her meet. And you're friends, aren't you?"
"Yes, but that's all we are. Fionna is four years younger than I am." And there was an obvious rebuttal standing a few feet away, but G.B. wasn't willing to say that out loud, not even just to defer someone's attention.
Kala frowned, just slightly. "She talks about you all the time, too."
"Because we're friends. I'm sure I talk about her a lot as well. I've just never bothered to keep track."
"Oh." Kala kept frowning. "I just wanted to know, I guess."
G.B. decided not to press that point, since he would just put his foot in his mouth. Instead, he said, "Are you having a good time at the party?"
Kala's eyes narrowed, though she didn't immediately answer. "It's okay, I guess. I didn't know there wasn't gonna be anybody my age here."
G.B. glanced over his shoulder, at the rest of the room, and saw that she was right. The kids who were there were closer to G.B.'s ages. Which made sense. It was a networking event. "Well, I guess your dad wanted you to get involved as soon as possible."
"He doesn't like to leave me alone in the house." She tucked her chin. "And before you ask, no, I don't have a mom. She left a long time ago." She tugged at the sleeves of her jacket, and G.B. noticed a long scrape that ran up along one arm.
He knew better than to ask about it, though. Instead, he asked Kala about her schoolwork and told her what his college was like. And he watched the way Kala and her father interacted. But how was he supposed to know if it was bad or not? He'd never had any parents.
***
He thought they would leave once Kala left with her father, after about an hour. Or, at least, he thought Marshall Lee would insist on being out of his mother's presence as soon as possible. But when they were gone, Marshall Lee turned to him. "You wanna dance?"
He wasn't joking, and that made G.B. want to push him into the punch bowl like in a bad teen movie. Instead, he folded his arms. "You said yourself that the music sucks."
"And you said that the cake sucks, but it was good anyway. Any music is better than none."
G.B. wrinkled his nose. "That is completely not true. But don't ask me to back it up. Music's not my thing—it's yours."
"And that's why I say we should dance. How often are we gonna get to be all fancy like this? You know I'm allergic to fancy. And you always dress like it's tax day." He put a hand on G.B.'s side. G.B. kept his arms folded, although he couldn't explain to himself why he was resisting. Maybe because it was what was expected of him at this point.
G.B. blew out a breath. "Cake and MoChro will get married at some point," he pointed out.
"Like Cake is gonna want me at her wedding. Or MoChro for that matter. He always looks at me like he's waiting for the hitmen he ordered to show up." He moved his hand to the small of G.B.'s back, and G.B. let his arms fall, if only because he would look ridiculous otherwise. "And we're not taking advantage of Obergerfell V Hodges any time soon, so..." He raised his eyebrows.
"Yes, all right, if only because I'm impressed you actually know the name of that case."
Marshall Lee grinned. "I know stuff like that just so I can annoy you."
"I know, and I hate that it works." But he let Marshall Lee pull him out anyway. It was a slow song, and Marshall Lee rested his head on G.B.'s chest. "I'm surprised you're letting me lead."
"It would look dumb otherwise. You're like a foot taller."
"Six inches."
"Know what else is six inches?" Marshall Lee said, but it was half assed. He looked too content
G.B. rolled his eyes. "You can do better than that." He took his hand from Marshall Lee's and touched his mouth to find that he was smiling.
***
To his surprise, they stayed late, until everyone else had begun to trickle out, and the waiters were coming in to fold up the tables and stack the chairs. Hanna was lounging in one of them, her shoes resting beside her feet. She looked up when Marshall Lee approached and smiled, but lazily. "Hello, dear. Did you have a good time?"
Marshall Lee shrugged instead of answering. He slipped his hand into G.B.'s, and G.B. squeezed.
Hanna finished her glass of wine, then set it down on the floor. "Now. Are you going to tell me why you actually came here? I'd like to think it was for the joy of my company, but I'm not naive."
"We were trying to figure out if that girl Kala is being abused or not." Marshall Lee's voice was flat, but he looked his mother straight in the face as he spoke. G.B. gaped at him. At least there was no one else around to hear. But still.
Hanna blinked. Then she smiled. "And you think I might know, as though all of us terrible parents go around in a group."
"Yeah, well, what do I know? I'm never having kids." Marshall Lee shrugged the shoulder that wasn't pressed against G.B.'s.
Hanna blew out a breath, but she wasn't upset. "I deserved that," she muttered, "and I won't pretend like I don't. But I won't pretend I know what's going on with them, either. He keeps his daughter close, that's all. And he does his job well, so I've never paid much attention to him." She paused, tapping her lips with a finger. "Then again, I've seen his daughter on a number of occasions. I like having events with families. And I've never seen her with a bruise on her wrist before. I'd say you look closer to home before you start accusing her father of anything. Girls get into enough trouble on their own at her age."
"Way to blame the victim, Mom," Marshall Lee muttered, looking away.
"That's just it," Hanna said, crossing her arms. "I'm saying I don't think she's a victim. Maybe she's up to something else that's worth more to her than a few scrapes."
***
When they got in the car for the ride home, Marshall Lee sighed, resting his temple against the window. "Well, that was a waste of time," he muttered.
"I wouldn't say that," G.B. said absently.
Marshall Lee raised his eyebrows. "Are you just disagreeing with me to keep me on my toes? Because I am sleepy and not up for our usually witty rejoinders."
"Where on earth did you pick up the phrase ‘witty rejoinders?’" G.B. was honestly asking.
Marshall Lee just chuckled and looked back out the window. "I'm full of surprises."
G.B. shook his head. "I don't think it was a waste of time. It got me out of the house and you into a suit, so that's pretty impressive, I think. And you had a number of conversations with your mother without anyone involved having a breakdown, so I consider that serious progress." He was still only partly joking. He knew better than to think Marshall Lee would tell him how things were progressing between him and his mother, but it was good to try anyway.
Marshall Lee rolled his eyes. "I dunno why she said that about Kala's dad," he muttered. "It's not like she's shy about the way she treated me. Why lie about him?"
"I don't think she was lying." Marshall Lee frowned at G.B., and G.B. frowned, choosing his next words carefully, like stepping stones across a creek. "We really don't know if Kala is being mistreated. For all we know, she might be doing just fine, and we're just missing something obvious." He let out a breath, staring at the buildings passing by. "I don't know why I let Fionna talk me into this."
"Yeah, you do," said Marshall Lee, but not cruelly. "I know you wanted a distraction, but you should just fess up, dude. I think it's gonna be fine."
G.B. could have said something nasty, but he didn't. He was tired of being nasty. The problem was that he didn't know what he wanted instead.
***
Marshall Lee didn't spend the night—he had some kind of meeting with his record label early in the morning—and that was probably for the best. G.B. spent most of the night awake, partly because he'd gotten used to the steady sound of Marshall Lee's breathing when he went to bed, and partly because he was trying to think through everything that had happened.
Well. Marshall Lee was right, but G.B. was not going to tell him so.
***
He hadn't been over to Fionna's house except to pick her up or drop her off since the Halloween party. Not that he spent a lot of time at Fionna's place. When they hung out together, it was to go see a movie or a band, or he met her at school for some event. So he told himself it wasn't a problem, even though he couldn't help but remember just how bad that party had gone. And how different things were now.
Still. Different was not bad. It took him a while to get used to that, but maybe he had accepted of it now. Maybe. He was still working it all out, but so was everyone in their own way.
He went inside instead of letting himself hesitate anymore. Cake wasn't home—she was spending time with MoChro. Fionna was lounging on the couch playing video games, her tongue between her teeth, but she jerked upright when G.B. opened the door. "Oh! You're early."
"I'm always early, Fionna," said G.B., nudging off his shoes by the door. More out of habit than because Fionna or Cake cared about tracking dirt in the house.
Fionna switched off her game and dangled her arms over the back of the couch. "So. How did the party go? Did you find anything out?"
G.B. walked over to lean against the couch, though he didn't sit down. Fionna turned to face him, her face alight like it always was when she was telling him about the latest crazy thing that happened in her life. To her, this was just another nutball scheme.
He let out a breath. "The party was all right," he said, tracing one finger over the ugly floral pattern of the couch. Cake and Fionna had found it by the side of the road one day and refused to reupholster it or even put a slipcover over it. "And we did meet Kala's father."
Fionna nodded. "And? What did you think?"
"I think you might be blowing this all out of proportion, Fionna," said G.B., trying to keep his voice gentle. He was nervous, but he wanted to make sure he didn't sound like he was frustrated with her.
She cocked her head. "What do you mean?"
G.B. sat down on the arm of the couch so he'd stop fidgeting. "I don't think Kala's being abused at all. Or if she is, I have no idea how we'd prove it. I guess... I don't understand why you're going after this."
Fionna frowned. Then she looked away, one hand running over her hat. "I know Cake told you to talk to me."
G.B. blinked. "What, about Kala?"
She looked at him, and he knew this was not about Kala at all. He made himself hold her gaze, because he wanted to believe he wasn't a coward. She looked sad, but not devastated, like he had been expecting. "I know Cake told you to talk to me," she repeated. "And I guess I should stop trying to put it off."
G.B. frowned, despite himself. "What, so this whole thing with Kala was just a distraction?"
Fionna frowned the way she did when reading her math textbook—as though someone had presented her a document in gibberish and she was supposed to pretend that it made sense. "Yeah?" She rubbed the back of her neck. "I mean, I really was worried. But... G.B..." She dropped her eyes. "I didn't want you to tell me we couldn't be friends anymore, so I tried to figure out how to put that off. This was the best I could come up with, but I guess it wasn't very good after all."
G.B. stared at her. "Why can't we be friends anymore?"
Fionna looked away, pulling her knees up against her chest. "Because you don't feel the same way as I did, and now that you've got a boyfriend, it's weird for me to be hanging around you all lovesick and junk. I'm trying to get over it. It's just not easy."
G.B. looked at her blankly. Then he shook his head and moved to sit on the couch beside her. Fionna didn't pull away, but she didn't move toward him the way she usually did. He ignored the part of him that first wanted to assert that Marshall Lee wasn't his boyfriend and said, "That's what you thought I wanted to tell you? That we couldn't spend time together anymore?"
Fionna shrugged. "What else could you say? I mean, you've put up with me being weird about you for a really long time. I couldn't expect it to go on forever." She pressed her face against her knees. "I mean, I wanted it to, but I'm kind of selfish."
"Fionna." He said it firmly so she'd look at him, if only reluctantly. "I'm not going to stop being your friend. No, I don't want to be your boyfriend. But that doesn't mean I've been your friend just because I feel sorry for you or anything like that." He bit his lip. "You and Monochrome are the only people I've ever met who've never told me I'm weird."
Fionna narrowed her eyes, still like she was trying to work out a difficult math problem. "But you're not weird. You're super cool, and you make awesome food."
G.B. shrugged. "Most people don't see it that way. And usually I'm okay with that. I thought..." He rubbed his jaw. At least his throat wasn't threatening to lock up like it always did around Marshall Lee. "I thought I was all right with being alone. But I met you, and I realized I like being dragged out of my comfort zone now and then. Maybe not as much as you like it, but still sometimes."
She was still watching, so he made himself continue. "You mean a lot to me, Fionna. You always have, and you always will. As long as you want to be friends with me, I'll be friends with you."
Fionna let out a long, slow breath, hiding her face in her knees. "I knew after the party that you weren't going to be my boyfriend," she said, her voice quieter than he thought she could be. "I was trying not to get in your way. And I didn't want you to leave."
"I'm not leaving, Fionna. Who else will test my cupcakes? You have the most discriminating palate."
She peeked out over her arms. "I was gonna miss your cupcakes the most." She scrubbed her arm over her face and put on a smile—maybe not as bright as usual, but still a real smile.
G.B. put his arm along the back of the couch, creating a space she would usually rush to fill. But she frowned. "What about Marshall Lee? Is he, like, jealous and stuff?"
G.B. tipped his head back. "Marshall Lee's got nothing to do with you and me.”
"He's your boyfriend, isn't he?"
"That question remains to be settled for a number of reasons you are not privy to, young lady." He kept his voice as prim and proper as possible to make it clear he was joking. "Really. It's complicated. But he's..." He looked away. "He's part of my life. I want you to be part of my life too."
Fionna flopped next to him. "Well. I guess I will be, then."
He put his arm around her and rubbed her shoulder. "You're not upset?"
She avoided his eyes. "I was," she muttered. "But it's not your job to make me feel better about liking you. That’s Cake’s, and she helped me with it. I still get to have you as a friend, and that's just as good. In a different way."
"Yes."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the kind he had missed, where he didn't have to say anything because for once he wasn't being judged for thinking too much or looking too weird. Then Fionna said, "So you really don't think there's anything wrong with Kala's dad?"
He shrugged, not surprised by the topic change. It was less weird than some of the things Fionna asked him about on a regular basis. "I think there's no way for an outsider to tell." He glanced down at her. "You should just ask her, Fionna. You're friends, aren't you?"
"Yeah, but she's really private, and I don't want to scare her away. We're, like, actually hanging out now, and it's kind of awesome. She's really nice." Fionna rubbed her nose.
"She might be looking for someone to talk to, you know. If there is something going on. You don't have to ask her. You just have to let her know that she's someone you can trust."
Fionna rested her head against his shoulder and didn't say anything for a moment, and he thought he'd lost her. Then she said, "You know, you might not like a lot of people, but you always know the right thing to say about them."
G.B. snorted. "It's nice that you think so, Fi."
"I mean it!" She looked at him, earnest as ever, and he smiled at her. Maybe it'd be fine after all.
"I know, Fionna. You always do."
***
"I told you it wouldn't be a big deal," Marshall Lee said, his tongue between his teeth as he adjusted one of the keys of his bass. The difference was imperceptible to G.B., but that was why he stuck with electronic instruments, since they tuned themselves.
"Yes, you did," said G.B., keeping his nose in his textbook even though he wasn't reading. This was becoming a distressing habit. For right now, it wasn't a big deal—he could pass his classes in his sleep. But when he got into more complicated subject matter, he would need time alone to study.
That assumed that Marshall Lee would still be around when G.B. moved forward in school. But he wasn't as afraid of assuming that anymore. Mostly. He still didn't look at it directly.
"So now what's going to happen?" Marshall Lee asked. He played a full chord and grinned, showing all his teeth.
G.B. shrugged. "I said she should talk to Kala, and she said she would. I'm still waiting to hear from the results of that conversation. And to hear if Cake is going to eviscerate me or not."
Marshall Lee shook his head. "Nah, she likes you. And now you did what she wants, so she likes you even more."
G.B.'s phone went off, and he picked it up, wondering who on earth would be calling him outside of business hours. "Speak of the rabbit," he said and put the phone on speaker to spare his ears. Also to keep Marshall Lee from trying to lean over his shoulder and listen in, as he was prone to.
"Jeebles Jeebles Jeebles!"
"Fionna, Fionna, Fionna," said G.B., smiling despite himself. "Did you need something?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you've gotta come see this!"
Marshall Lee raised his eyebrows, as though G.B. might know what she was talking about, and he shrugged.
"What am I going to see, Fionna?" he asked, shutting his textbook. "It'd better not be something gross."
"No, it's super cool. It's what was up with Kala." She took in a deep breath, and he could picture her making an effort to calm down and speak like a human being rather than a record spinning at 38 RPM instead of 70. "I asked her about it like you told me, and she showed me, and it's super freaking awesome, so you need to come to the skate park like, right now."
"Lucky for you, I happen to have some free time." He glanced at Marshall Lee, who was bent over his bass, and bit his lip. "Can I bring Marshall Lee?"
Fionna didn't hesitate. "Yeah! I bet he'll think it's cool, too."
"I'll be there in a little bit, I suppose," said G.B. He hung up and turned to look at Marshall Lee, who was replacing his bass in his case. "I guess we're going to the skate park?"
"I see how it is," Marshall Lee said. "I've been volun-told."
"Don't act like you're not curious about what happened with Fionna."
Marshall Lee blew a raspberry, but it was only for show. "Joke's on you, gumdrop. We gotta take my bike."
"I've notified my insurance company ahead of time, just in case."
Marshall Lee made another fart noise at him, which G.B. ignored.
***
The weather was just starting to turn warm, so it was actually perfect outside for a ride on Marshall Lee's motorcycle, though G.B. would never admit as much. At this point, pretending he hated Marshall Lee's motorcycle was more of a reflex than a real statement of opinion, just like a lot of other things about him and Marshall Lee. But he was trying not to think about that.
When they arrived at the skate park, it was crowded and loud. As Marshall Lee fussed with his bike, making sure it was safe from escapees from the ball diamond nearby, G.B. squinted at the skate ramp and wondered what on earth was going on there.
They had to walk into the skate park to find Kala and Fionna, which was just strange. All the kids there were high schoolers, and some of them stared and turned to each other in hissing whispers, which made Marshall Lee smirk. "I gotta say, I like being a big mystery," he murmured."
"You would," G.B. muttered, though he wasn't upset.
"And now people are gonna know who you are, too, since you were on that livestream with me."
G.B. made a face. "Don't remind me. But I'm not joining your band. I have cupcakes to sell."
"I wouldn't have it any other way." He slipped his hand into G.B.'s, and it took G.B. a beat to realize that that might attract attention. Then he decided he didn't care. And no one else did, either, so that was nice.
Fionna was sitting on one of the benches, one hand resting on her longboard, which was almost as tall as her. Her knees were freshly scraped, and as usual, she was grinning like a loon. G.B. grinned back, surprising himself.
"So where's Kala?" he asked.
In answer, she pointed behind them, towards a quarter pipe. G.B. turned. Kala was at the top of the ramp on a BMX bike, waiting for a skateboarder to finish. He jumped back up on the deck and flashed her a thumbs up. She nodded and got on her bike, crouching low over the pedals. Then she dropped down onto the ramp. After going back and forth a few times, picking up speed, she started doing tricks—flipping the handlebars around, lifting her legs and hands off the bike. Then she actually spun the whole bike around in the air. She made a couple more passes on the ramp to slow down, then jumped back on the deck.
G.B. realized his teeth were gritted from nerves, and he made himself relax.
"Wasn't that awesome?" Fionna sighed.
"Now there is one I would not have seen coming," Marshall Lee said.
Kala came toward them, walking her bike. "So what did you think?" she said, her voice tight with nerves. She propped her bike against the bench and took off her helmet.
"That was literally the greatest thing I've ever seen in my life," said Fionna, bouncing.
Kala smiled hesitantly and glanced at Marshall Lee and G.B. Marshall Lee flashed her a thumbs up, and G.B. managed a nod, hoping he didn't look too much like he'd spent the entire time waiting for her to miss a landing and break her neck.
But, to his surprise, Kala laughed. "You look like my dad." She hung her helmet on her bike and sat down next to Fionna, stretching her arms along the back of the bench.
"I told you he'd make that face," said Fionna, leaning against Kala. "But that's what G.B. is for. He tells you the thing is stupid and not to do it, and then he calls the hospital if you need it. Or he makes you snacks if you don't. But he won't yell at you like Cake does."
"When did I turn into the mother in this situation?" G.B. asked Marshall Lee.
Marshall Lee snorted. "Dude, you were always the mom. But it's okay. It's part of your charm."
Fionna nodded. "Exactly. It's not as much fun if you're not scaring somebody when you do it."
Kala shrugged. "I'm not trying to scare anyone." She blew out a breath. "I'm going back up. Do you want to join me?"
Fionna shook her head, and Kala picked her bike back up and headed for the smaller ramps scattered across the park. She scooted over to the edge of the bench, and G.B. and Marshall Lee sat down beside her.
"So this was her big secret?" G.B. asked, looking at Fionna instead of watching Kala. He hated skate parks. People blew off things that could break their ankles and knees like it was nothing. He was not wired for that.
Fionna nodded, turning her attention to G.B. "You know why she's doing it?"
"To piss off her dad?" Marshall Lee suggested. There was no heat behind his words; he had his eyes closed, basking in the spring sunlight.
Fionna shook her head. "She has to keep it a secret, yeah, 'cause her dad'd worry too much, but she's not doing it because of him." A blush came into her cheeks, and she looked toward Kala again. G.B., despite himself, followed her gaze, relieved to see that Kala was sticking to the flat ground, flipping her bike around and making it jump. "She was trying to impress me."
G.B. snapped back to Fionna, who blushed even darker, avoiding his eyes. "I thought you made it pretty clear you liked her," he said, keeping his voice neutral even though this was turning out better than he could have expected.
Fionna tugged on the ear of her hat. "Yeah, well, she told me she didn't think I meant it. You know, since she didn't do sports and stuff."
"Which automatically equals bike tricks," G.B. said, but not critically.
Fionna shrugged. "It's super cool, so I'm not complaining." She hesitated. "She's super cool. I mean, I already knew that, but still."
G.B. bit back a grin. "Well. I guess everything's coming up roses, then."
"You always say the weirdest shit," said Marshall Lee, but fondly. G.B. still tried to shove him off the bench, but Marshall Lee resisted, and it was too much work in the end. So the two of them sat and watched as the girls ranged over the skate park.
"I'm surprised you're not up there with them," G.B. said. Not because the silence was uncomfortable. Though he was surprised that Marshall Lee had sat quietly for so long without any music playing.
Marshall Lee shook his head. "I never got into it. I had to pick one expensive thing or the other, and music always wins." He glanced sideways at G.B. with an equally sideways grin. "I'm surprised you don't have 911 on speed dial right now, though."
G.B. rolled his eyes. "She did the big scary thing right away and didn't hurt herself. If she falls now, she'll just skin her knee, and that's okay."
"Look at you, not jumping to the worst case scenario. Watch out, gumdrop. Pretty soon you'll turn into a normal human being like the rest of us."
G.B. leaned against him, carefully not reacting to the pleased smile that spread over Marshall Lee’s face. "Nah. I've got you to keep me weird."
***
After making sure Fionna and Kala got back to Fionna's place, G.B. and Marshall Lee went home together, like it was something they always did. Like it was part of life now.
When they got inside, G.B. turned to Marshall Lee. Marshall Lee was taking off his big black boots; he raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. G.B. waited for him to stand. He opened his mouth, but G.B. shook his head. "Don't say anything. Just... stand still."
Marshall Lee obeyed, looking up at G.B. with an unreadable expression.
G.B. bent down, put his hands on either side of Marshall Lee's face, and kissed him.
It wasn't as easy as breathing, because breathing wasn't always easy for G.B. Nor was it like falling asleep, because G.B. tossed and turned, no matter how tired he was.
No. Kissing Marshall Lee was like flipping a pancake. Frosting a perfect swirl on a cupcake. Stretching his fingers to play a chord. That was easy. That felt right. And so did this.
Marshall Lee stayed perfectly still, not moving to deepen the kiss or to pull away. When G.B. stepped back, Marshall Lee opened his eyes and looked G.B. over from head to foot. "You sure about this?"
"No," said G.B., his voice unsteady. He took a deep breath, more to show that he could than to calm himself. "But I love you, and I'm tired of acting like I don't because I'm scared. It's—it's a lot of work." His voice only cracked on the last word. Otherwise, it was surprisingly simple to say for something that had been sitting inside him for so long. He thought he had grown cold and hard around it, but maybe it was cracking open. Maybe.
"You're still scared?" It wasn't a question, though Marshall Lee’s voice turned up at the end.
"I'm scared of everything." G.B. knew he wasn't selling this well. He wasn't sure if he was trying to. But he needed to get it out.
Marshall Lee stood perfectly still, his eyes fixed on G.B.’s. "Of me?"
G.B. nodded.
Marshall Lee let out a breath. "Good. I'm scared of you too. But I don't give a shit. I want—I want to have what other people do. I want to have a home. I want to know where I'm going to wake up and who's going to be next to me. And I don't ever want to leave you again."
G.B. didn't speak. So many things he could have said. He kissed Marshall Lee instead, and this time Marshall Lee put his arms around G.B.'s neck, hanging on like he was drowning. G.B. held him tight, because he felt the same way.