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I.
Finn is 20 the first time he says the words. Well, he sort of says it. Technically, Huntress says it for him in that teasing way she does sometimes, so really, all this awkwardness is mostly her fault if he really thinks about it (not that he wants to think about it anyway—the past 24 hours is definitely going in the vault).
They’re at his place when the words slip out—Finn sprawled on the couch while Huntress Wizard hovers above him with antiseptic and bandages. He donked up his last good arm pretty bad during a fight with a manticore after he pushed Huntress Wizard out of the manticore’s reach, and though his arm hurts something terrible, he doesn’t regret it.
“This would be so much more efficient if you’d just let me gather a few cyclops tears for you,” Huntress says, then swats him for moving too much when he turns to look at her. “It wouldn’t even be hard to make the forest cyclops cry.”
“Oh I’m sure you’d have him sobbing by now,” Finn agrees. “But I’m fine—really!”
She scoffs, and grumbles something about him being a stupid blundering meat sack.
“Only for you, babe,” he winks at her and shoots her a finger gun, but he’s using his robot hand, and the effect is kind of lost without actual fingers, so he mostly just points at her. It doesn’t matter though because Huntress loses some of the tension in her shoulders, and she huffs out a little laugh that she’s clearly trying to stifle.
“Right,” she drawls, though her eyes are warm as she finishes bandaging his arm. She picks up the first aid kit propped against the sofa. “Because we both know you’re totally in love with me.”
It’s not the first time she’s made the joke, but it’s the first time Finn thinks she’s actually right.
They’ve never technically dated dated. They mostly just…circle each other’s orbit. Huntress does her own thing, and Finn goes on adventures with Jake, and sometimes in the past 3 years, those things intersect (and they exchange a kiss or two when they do). But they’ve been intersecting more and more recently, mostly because Jake insists that his aging bod can’t take as much adventuring as he used to and that he’s sure Huntress Wizard would be the perfect person to keep his baby bro safe. Finn’s not convinced that Jake isn’t matchmaking, but he can’t find it in himself to complain about spending more time with HW, and she hasn’t turned down his adventure requests yet. He likes that she’s softer with him, likes that the feeling in his chest when he’s with her makes him feel grounded instead of like puking or burning up. So, really, it shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it is when the admission rolls of his tongue.
“Yeah,” he says, soft and fond, “can’t argue with you there.”
Huntress Wizard freezes and stares at him with eyes wider than he’s ever seen them. Finn almost thinks that she looks scared before he remembers that Huntress probably isn’t afraid of anything.
“Crap,” she says, and that honestly stings more than the manticore claw. Finn opens his mouth, not even sure what he wants to say, but Huntress Wizard shoves the first aid kit in his face and by the time he’s finished sputtering, she’s gone—just a fallen leaf sitting where she stood just a few moments ago. He picks it up and twirls it between his fingers, then he flops face first back onto the couch and groans.
He spends the rest of the night sulking, and not even Jake’s meatloaf is enough to make him feel better. By the time morning rolls around and Jake calls him for breakfast, he’s ready to spend the rest of the day sulking too.
“Hey, Finn,” Jake says when he ambles into the kitchen. Jake places a stack of pancakes and bacon in front of him, and Finn’s about to dig in when Jake also nudges a strange small bottle his way. “Found this outside the front door earlier. Looks like it’s for you.”
Curious, Finn reads the note attached to the bottle and smiles.
Cyclops tears -H
II.
Finn is 23 when his mom tries to set him up with someone for Princess Bubblegum’s Biennial Gumbo Gumberie, and the last thing he’s trying to do is start a fight when he tells Huntress Wizard about it.
They’ve been…something for a while now. He’s learned that most “what are we?” conversations end with Huntress running or stonewalling, so he’s stopped asking for now, and he figures they’re together in most ways that matter. He’s not interested in anyone else that way, and Huntress is disinterested in most sentient beings generally speaking anyway. His extended adventuring and bro time with Jake doesn’t bother her, and her trips into other worlds and Green Wizards Only stuff don’t bother him. They don’t call, but they always find each other anyway. In some ways, Finn thinks they’re like Jake and Rainicorn, and he tells Jake as much when his brother asks.
“Sure,” Jake usually says, “but Rainicorn and I know where we stand. You know I like Huntress for you, but you’ve gotta have the talk, man.”
And, yeah, maybe Finn’s not trying to start a fight, but maybe a tiny part of him can admit that he’s trying to start something when he brings it up while they’re gathering pinecones for one of Huntress Wizard’s spells. He says it like a joke, like it’s an odd funny thing, and he’s not sure if she’ll laugh or scoff or ignore him. In the end, she doesn’t do any of those things.
Instead, she leans down and pretends to inspect a pinecone, and he knows she’s pretending because she hadn’t bothered to check any of the other pinecones they collected. Her eyes meet his for a second, inscrutable, before her gaze darts away. “You should go with her,” she says.
“What?” Finn says, certain he hadn’t heard her right.
Huntress sets the pinecone down and shrugs, painfully nonchalant. “If you want to dance and eat stew, then dance and eat stew.”
“That’s not what I—”
“It’s cool. It’s totally cool,” Huntress says.
“But I only want to do those things with you,” Finn says, frustrated. “Huntress, in case you haven’t noticed, I love you. I only want to be with you.”
Huntress doesn’t run away, but she also doesn’t say anything, and he supposes that’s answer enough. His mouth twists like he’s eaten something bitter.
“I guess I know where we stand then,” he says.
“Finn…”
“It’s okay. Hard meat don’t get eat, right? My feelings are my problem, not yours.” Finn gives her his basket full of pinecones like he’s handing over his broken heart, and Huntress mouth settles into a thin harsh line as she takes it from him. “We’re still friends, right?” he asks.
Huntress’ expression softens, and she only hesitates a little before she says, “You’re my best friend.”
Finn smiles, and he pretends it’s not a fragile thing. “I’ll see you later,” he says. “Take it easy, Huntress Wizard.”
He doesn’t end up bringing anyone to Princess Bubblegum’s Biennial Gumbo Gumberie, but he does dance and eat stew until his heart feels so full it could burst. He parties with Jake and PB and Marcie. They even manage to drag Simon on to the dance floor for a bit, and he does a silly little jig that reminds Finn of Ice King in a good way. Finn laughs and soaks in his friends’ happiness, the joy from this little family he’s built for himself. It’s almost perfect, but sometimes between the flashes of light, Finn finds himself searching for a glimpse of green.
III.
Finn is 26 when Marcie first calls him and Huntress Wizard an on-again-off-again couple, but Finn’s doesn’t think that’s quite right because that would require a breakup, and a breakup would require an actual label, and Finn and HW have never been so easily defined.
They’re friends first, mostly. Friends who hunt together and play video games together and flirt and share secrets and kisses and sometimes more. They don’t talk about it, even if Finn wants to, because Huntress is a terrible at communicating what she wants and is even worse at letting herself have the things she wants. Trying to move forward only leads to disappointment and withdrawal. It’s easier to fall back on that undefined status quo.
And it’s not like Finn hasn’t tried dating other people, but it all felt like such a waste of time. Maybe Jake would tell him to keep trying and to get back out there, but Jake’s gone now and Finn is alone, and he’s acutely aware of how little time and energy there is in life to waste.
Huntress feels like home, and Finn is tired of pretending like she doesn’t. And maybe he’ll never really know where he stands with her, but he knows where she stands with him. Most of the time, it’s enough.
But he can admit that sometimes he wonders if he’s just an amusement for her, a distraction that she indulges in from time to time. Huntress is a wise wizard, and Finn’s just a dumb baby man. It would make sense, he thinks, if she couldn’t love him back. But when she blushes but doesn’t correct him the first time he calls her babe or when she smiles at him after kicking his ass in a video game, or when she curls up against his side when they nap in a meadow, or when she plays a flute song he knows is still meant for him, he thinks, hopes, wonders if maybe a tiny part of her feels the same way.
When he stays over at her place and she sleeps so soundly she turns into a log, he whispers the words to her. It feels like its own kind of magic, and he imagines the words reaching the part of her that might love him back too.
IV.
Finn is 28 when he starts saying the words regularly. Huntress Wizard always stiffens, but she doesn’t run or stonewall him anymore. He knows she won’t say it back—he’s not sure she can—but he doesn’t say the words expecting anything in return anymore. He says them because he feels them, because it’s the truth. He says them because he wants Huntress to know she’s loved, because he knows how dumptrucks it feels when you think there’s no one left who loves you. Finn doesn’t need her to say it back. He just needs her to know that he’s here if she wants him, how ever she wants him.
This time, he says it because it’s a slow afternoon at his place, and she’s braided his hair with such careful precision that he’s sleepy and soft with affection. She’s even threaded a few flowers through his hair, and when she shows him his reflection, his heart aches in a good way when he’s reminded of Fern. He wonders what Fern would’ve looked like if he had been able to grow up too.
“Thanks, babe,” he says, and he rests his head in her lap.
“You’re gonna ruin it if you fall asleep,” she says, though there’s no heat to her words.
“Will not.”
“Will too.”
Finn blinks sleepy eyes at her, and he takes in the soft smile on her face and the way the leaves of her hair frames her face. He thinks she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “I love you,” he says, eyes already drifting shut again.
She doesn’t say anything, but she smooths away the hair from his forehead and rests her hand on the crown on his head before he slips away into his dreams.
V.
Finn is 29 when he finds himself on death’s door, though he doesn’t quite realize what’s happening as it’s happening. There’s a girl who looks like him but reminds him of Jake, and there’s another guy that looks like a hot version of him, and there’s the Cosmic Owl, and a whole lot of death—not just his death—and some time after all the hazy strangeness, he finds himself standing in front of Huntress Wizard, who looks more solemn than he’s ever seen her.
“Finn,” she says. “I know you’re only dream Finn, and you’re not gonna remember this, but I’m gonna save you.”
He smiles even though he doesn’t know what she means because this is a dream, and dreams don’t always need to make sense. Instead, he says what comes most naturally to him, and he reminds her that he loves her.
She slips away after that, and the dreams start again.
+1
Bonnie throws a party when Marcie finally calms her down, and she hugs him tight enough to steal the breath from his lungs even if she can’t quite look him in the eye. Marcie hugs him too then punches his shoulder—for scaring them, she says. Simon’s still crying as he heartily pats Finn on the back, and then it’s like every single person he’s ever met in Ooo is here to tell him how relieved they are that he’s okay. It’s overwhelming, really, and Finn’s grateful that Huntress Wizard hasn’t let go of his hand yet because he’s pretty sure it’s the only thing keeping him grounded right now. He didn’t realize how many people were rooting for him, and he can’t remember the last time he felt this happy. He wishes Jake were here to see it.
Even his mom is here, and she tells each of her Minerva bots to hug her son. Huntress Wizard watches, amused, and is able to school her expression into something that’s only slightly horrified when Minerva loudly demands to meet her future daughter-in-law properly.
“Watch out for my boy, alright?” Minerva says. “I don’t think I can handle another scare like that.”
Huntress snorts and narrows her eyes playfully at Finn. “I’m trying, but this one needs to learn how to listen better. I did warn him.”
Finn scratches the back of his neck and grins sheepishly. “She did,” he says. “I’m really sorry for scaring you all.”
“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Minerva says, and Huntress squeezes his hand.
When the party is over, and all his friends go home, Huntress Wizard stays.
The walk to her house is quiet but comfortable, and Finn spends much of the walk admiring the flowers in her hair. When they reach her door, she turns to face him, and he can’t help but bend down to kiss her again just because he can.
“Thank you for saving me,” he says, cupping her face. “I love you.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she smiles, soft and fond. He hears Fionna’s voice in his head, talking about learning how to listen to people. And Finn thinks he’s listening now, and he hears all he needs to know when Huntress Wizard places her hand on his heart.
Which makes it all the more surprising when she says, “I love you, too.” She averts her eyes, and Finn thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen her shy. She suddenly hugs him tightly, hiding her face. “I’m glad you’re here,” she mumbles against his chest.
Finn smiles and tugs her closer, inhaling the comforting scent of the leaves in her hair. “I’m glad I’m here too.”
When she pulls back, her cheeks are flushed, and her mouth is set into a grim line like she’s bracing herself. She crosses her arms over her chest protectively.
“Huntress?”
“Would you—” she starts, grimaces, then starts again. “Would you like to stay?” she asks.
Finn raises an eyebrow. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s stayed over, so he’s not sure why she’s being weird about it. “Yeah, of course,” he says.
“Not just tonight,” she says. “I mean—would you like to stay? Here. With me.”
“Oh. Oh!” He takes her hand again, and Huntress relaxes a little. “Always,” he says. “Always.”
“Good,” Huntress Wizard says, still blushing. She uses magic to unlock her door and throws a look at Finn over her shoulder. “Prepare to have your ass beat in every single video game you own."
Finn grins as he follows her. “I’m counting on it.”