Visceral

The Whole Damn Thing (because this author is lazy)

"You're going to have to tell her." PG warned as he put away his analysis kit. Marshall sat on the examination table, shaking with fever, and shaking his head.

"No, I can't." He said, voice quivering.

"You can die from this, you know." His friend said softly, although to an immortal being, death didn't seem too bad of an option.

"It comes and goes in waves. I will be okay, I just need some time. I need to isolate." Marshall hopped off of the table to land on unsteady feet. "Just give me some of those red rope things."

PG plopped a heavily red tinged licorice rope in Marshall's outstretched hand. He sucked greedily at the end of it, the color draining from it like fire burning a fuse.

"You can't sustain yourself like this." His friend chastised. "Just ask Fionna, I'm sure she will be more than happy to help out a friend."

Marshall shook his head violently at the suggestion. "No! I can't let her see that I am- that I'm-"

"A vampire who needs human blood to survive?" PG said mockingly. "How shocking!"

"She thinks I drink the red from things. She feels safe around me." Marshall pleaded at PG with his eyes. "Please...?"

PG scoffed and opened a small mini fridge, taking out a vial of blood.

"This is the last of it." He warned. "I can't just keep swiping vials every time she comes in with an adventure boo boo." PG placed the vial on the table with a clink. Marshall slipped the vial into his pocket, his fingers rubbing against the glass vial dotingly.

"Thank you." He said, already backing into the threshold of the door.

"When she dies, you die too, you know!" PG said. "I'm running out of safe 'adventures' to send her on..." He said, mocking the word 'adventures' with his finger quotes. Marshall laughed, his usual coquettish humor returning to him.

"I can always create more dungeons." Marshall replied. "Just keep working on that vampire cure, Gumbutt!" He said disappearing into the hallway.

"I'm a scientist not a magician!" PG screamed after him.

Feeling renewed, Marshall forgot completely about his troubles. He wanted to see Fionna, as she had become his most important friend (and we will say he was his best with her right after a good feed), but his fever had yet to break, and he was sweating quite a lot. He would have to go home to shower.

He touched down onto his porch, and noticed the lights were on at his place. Someone was here. He chuckled to himself, already aware of who would be waiting for him on his horrible sofa. He opened the door, and Fionna stood from the sofa.

"I heard that you were sick." She explained. "I made you soup. It's tomato." Fionna held out a tupperware container full of red liquid, and Marshall smiled.

"Thanks, Fionna." He said reaching for the container. Her face fell when she saw his pallor, and she brought her hand to feel his forehead like Cake did when she was sick, feeling the cold sweat that covered his skin.

Her hand felt hot on his skin, and he swatted it away.

"I'm feeling better, now." He said, smiling. Fionna wiped the sweat from her hand on her skirt.

"Well, I better get going, then." She said, her face reddening. Was she blushing, Marshall thought?

"Thanks again, Fi." He said, offering her a hug. She took the invitation, regardless if he was sweaty, and they held each other there for a couple seconds too long. She broke off the embrace, laughing nervously.