'Okay' Gumball thought. He sat himself down at the desk in his mostly pink chamber. He dunk the feathered pen into the ink, then straightened the parchment in front of him. He drew in a breath and started writing in careful letters.

'Dear all loyal subjects of the Candy Kingdom, I have read, and take plenty of consideration to, your suggestions on the town square. I realize the small shopping carts surrounding the square are many separate businesses, but however I do not believe it would be neccessary to 'kick out', as many as you have worded it, the carts who sell 'icky' items. Such as; less plush pillows than delicate candy-made heads need, under-ordinary extraordinary licroice tacos that you crave...'

Prince Bubba Gumball printed on his paper. He sighed as he laid his pen down. It was too late to worry about these things. He looked longingly at his bed, just pefect.

SLAM! He heard at his window. Gumball stood hastily, causing his wooden chair to crash to the floor. He rushed to the glass. It opened as he looked out, revealing a very droopy Marshall Lee.

"Hey...Bubba, what's up?" He slurred as he sat down on the window sill. He took a sig of the root beer bottle he was holding, it was almost empty. In his other hand, he was clutching a withered old Hambo to his chest. His jet-black hair was a wild mess, and the usually red and black plaid button-down shirt he wore was ripped open.

"Marshall! W-what are you, um, doing here?" Gumball asked, puzzled. Marshall came over yesterday, when Gumball had told him that he'd be busy the following evening to catch up on citizen messages, which obviously he was, and hadn't made much of a dent.

"Oh...nothin' much, I guess. Thought I'd drop by," He took another gulp finishing the bottle, then snickered to himself as if he'd said something humorous. "Get it? Drop by? I wouldn't drop by, I'd fly!" He lifted off the window sill and turned upside down still giggling, then literally fell out of the air onto the richly carpeted floor with an 'Umph'.

"Marshall, you're drunk." Gumball cautioned. He stepped towards him and held out a hand in assistance. Marshall took it and stood, but didn't let go. He looked at the Prince's hand with great intrest.
"And you're pink, you handsome little boy. New PJs?" He pointed accusingly at Gumballs chest. "You work too hard you know, why not just lay back and chilll..?" He drifted on the final word. It was true, Gumball worked very hard to keep his kingdom up and running. He was still wearing his prince outfit from ealier that afternoon. The puffy shoulder pads had flattened from a long day.

Marshall pushed Hambo into Gumballs arms. "He said he wanted to talk to you 'bout somethin'. He wouldn't tell me, though. Stupid Hambo, it's not nice to keep such secrets!" Marshall hissed angrily at the bear, crossing his pale arms.

"Marshall, come on. You can sleep here tonight. I don't want you flying home and ending up in a scrungy ditch somewhere." Gumball said. Marshall was worrying him, he knew Marshall drank whenever he had something difficult on his mind, but he seemed perfectly fine last night.

"Aw, that's so sweet Bubba. Here, lemme give you a hug. Oh, just come 'ere," the loopy boy leaned over wrapped his arms around Gumball in a bear hug, dropping the root beer bottle on the floor.

"Marshall, okay. Marshall?" Gumball asked. Seriously, he had never seen Marshall like this, or his fangs that long...

The Prince tried to pull away. Marshall wouldn't budge though. He roughly kissed Gumball on the lips.

"You know what? I'm hungry." Those are words you don't ever want to hear when you are inches from a vampires face.

"Oh! Um, we have apples in the kitchen. It's just down the hall. Let me go, I'll go get you one." Gumball said, trying to unnoticingly wriggle his way out of his boyfriends grip.

"Hm," Marshall thought for a moment. It seemed as if he was deciding something vital in that root beer-muddled brain of his. "Nah, I don't feel like apples. I'm tired of them. Why do they have to be the only red fruit? Why don't other fruit want to be red, too?" He rambled, the stentch of the sugary liquid made Gumballs eyes water.

"Ok, I have a red blanket in the closet. How about that? That would be tasty, wouldn't it? Just let me go and..." He got a hand free with Hambo. Marshall noticed; his dark eyes darted away, seemingly mesmerized by the little bear. "Don't you want to apoligize to Hambo? I think you hurt his feelings, you know." Gumball tossed Hambo on the bed a few feet away. Hopefully Marshall would let go and go get him.

Gumball looked back at Marshall, and stiffled a gasp. His blue eyes widened in terror, then calmed again, not wanting to show fear. Marshall had once told him. 'Oh, and never show fear to a vampire. You know, the predator side in them and all can sense that stuff in, like, in a second.'

Marshall's eyes, usually a dull red, had turned into raven black orbs. He glared at Gumball with such fiery hatred. "You...you just..threw Hambo. Throwing Hambo is NEVER allowed." He said in a stone cold voice that made the hair on Gumballs neck stand up. It was that pure, classic, angelic voice vampires use as a sure-thing lure when they spot their next meal. His palms started to sweat, and he gulped. The grip around him tightened. Marshall opened his mouth, and a high-pitched hiss rang out.

Gumball squirmed frantically, but it was no use, he knew, as the Vampire King sunk his menacing fangs into his neck.

A/N: So what do you think? If you like it review, if you don't, well, sorry. I'll write the next chapter, but I want to know at least a few people like this one. This is my first fan-fic in a little while, so sorry if I'm a bit rusty. Please, please, please review.

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