My Sweet Prince [GumLee Mpreg]

Chapter 13

Third Person

Gumball awoke suddenly and went to have one of his puking spells, waking up Marshall Lee in the process. He didn't mean to, but Marshall had rather sensitive hearing, so it would have been nearly impossible. Not that the vampire actually cared.

He followed his love and rubbed his back as he vomited, not caring about being woken up. It wasn't like Marshall needed sleep anyway. If the one he loved needed comfort, he was going to be the one who gave it to him.

"Just let it out, Gummy..." he said softly, rubbing the candy boy's back for comfort.

Not like Gumball could do anything else, or do anything to prevent it. So he sat there for a good ten minutes, puking his brains out, while Marshall could only try to make him feel better.

Once Gumball was finally able to stop, he felt truly miserable. Marshall was worried about the one he loved and suggested they go down to the infirmary, but Gumball refused. He didn't want to let anyone know he was sick. He hated being the center of attention and didn't particularly like being cared for in a medical way either. Although, it's safe to assume not many people did.

But another reason Gumball didn't like the infirmary? He knew that if Dr. Pound Cake knew, every other member of the staff would know within minutes too. The news to watch out and care for him would spread like wildfire in a dense forest.

"Gumball, I really think you should go to the infirmary... Just so they can try to help..." Marshall suggested again, wanting his partner to get the medical help he needed if it was necessary.

"Marshall... I t-told you... I'm fine..." The Candy Prince replied, slowly regaining himself after the long period of vomiting and nausea.

The vampire sighed, knowing that Gumball wasn't going to go to the infirmary because of his stubborn and persistent nature. So, instead, he helped the sick boy up and carried him back up to his bedroom. Marshall figured the best thing for Gumball would be rest, so that was exactly what he was going to make him do, no matter how much he protested. Not that he actually would have by this point. He was too worn out to put up an actual fight.

Marshall held Gumball close, teasing his gummy hair gently as another form of comfort that he knew would work. It did work and helped the sick one relax, making him wish that every day could be like this.

Soon, in a matter of months, it would be able to. To some extent at least. There would still be work to be done, but that didn't mean the two couldn't spend time together. It was just a matter of time.

The room was quiet now. It was practically silent. But as time passed, Marshall seemed to be hearing small things that he couldn't make out. The closer he got to Gumball, the louder the noise became.

It was obvious that Gumball couldn't hear it, and it couldn't be his own thoughts, so it had to be something else. The only question Marshall had was 'what?'.