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Marceline talked in her sleep.
It was a secret. In fact, not even the vampire knew. It was just a little quirk of her’s that Bonnibel kept to herself. There was no specific reason as to why, really; it was a rare treat, and the princess just enjoyed having that little facet of information all to herself. Besides, her queen didn’t do it all the time. Typically, sleep-talking only happened when she was particularly exhausted. Or, more accurately, if Bonnibel had particularly exhausted her. Even then, her mumbling was usually incoherent nonsense, not even a full sentence.
Sometimes, though…
“Bon?”
Bonnibel looked away from her book towards the lump at her side who had, until mere moments prior, been snoozing peacefully under the soft pink blankets of their shared bed. Marceline had a particular tone of voice when she was sleep-talking: soft, hazy, quite reflective of how she was on the literal precipice between Awake and Asleep. It was that tone of voice the young scientist heard now, and with a small, knowing smile she covered the light that illuminated her book in the dark room and lowered her glasses to get a better look at the love of her immortal life. “Yes, Marcy?,” she asked, amusement poised and at the ready.
Marceline creaked open a bleary garnet eye before rolling onto her side, facing her lover. Her gaze was unfocused, but that was alright. Soon that eye closed, just in time for the musician to nuzzle into her mate’s bare leg. It caused Bonnibel to lift an eyebrow in skepticism, but she didn’t interrupt. How oddly affectionate for this stage of wakefulness. A pink hand trailed under the blanket, stroking Marceline’s long, onyx hair reassuringly, delighting in the resulting purr. Oddly affectionate for this time of day indeed.
“What if I’m just a brain in a jar on some scientist’s desk, and everything is an illusion?” The pink hand stilled and Bonnibel only stared at her mate, the other eyebrow raising. She said nothing and an unfocused, garnet eye peaked open once more. “What if everything I know is just, like… random electric pulses sent to my brain receptors and you’re just a spontaneous manifestation of all my hopes and dreams?”
Bonnibel continued to stare at her mate, blinking once, then twice. Then, out tumbled a bewildred, somewhat nonplussed, “What?” But Marceline, as half-awake as she was, only stared at the younger royal, equally befuddled by her own oddly coherent nonsense. This caused Bonnibel to blink yet a third time before the spell of confusion was broken. Finally free she smiled, chuckling softly at the pleasant silliness her soulmate’s sleep-addled mind, in all of its infinite creativity, came up with. “If your brain is on any scientist’s desk it’s my own, and I assure you that I quite prefer it inside of your skull, where it can remain active and you can remain Undead and in my life.”
Marceline blinked herself, digesting this logic. She watched the younger immortal through the darkness of the room, felt her pleasant, soft warmth radiating and washing over her. Finally she sighed, nodding as her eye slid shut once more. “You’re so smart, BonBon,” she mumbled drowsily. Soon the room was filled with her soft, rhythmatic breathing, Bonnibel’s cue that her queen had succumbed to sleep once more. With a roll of her eyes she tucked her vampire back under the blankets, letting her lover snuggle back into her thigh. Satisfied, the princess lifted her hand from her light, illuminating her book once more and picking up exactly where she left off. Even then, her smile didn’t leave her. Marceline tended to have that effect on her.
Sweet dreams, little bat.