WHO: Marceline and Hugh WHEN: July 1, morning, before the farmer’s market. WHERE: Their Loft. SUMMARY: Hugh and Marceline have a conversation about the possibility of Hugh’s father not actually being his father while they shave. This is an example of “in media res.” WARNINGS: None.
“Lemme try your shave butter,” Marceline lifted a wet hand from the tub and held it out towards him.
"What?" Hugh looked up from the mirror and glanced towards his girlfriend. "For your legs?"
She lifted a leg from the tub, splashing a little bit of water over the side. “Uh huh.”
He raised an eyebrow, and handed it over, as he reached for his electric razor to trim up his stubble. Thankfully next week he could turn this job over to wardrobe. "Don't get too much water in it, though."
Flatly, “Oh.”
Then, sticking her leg out of the tub, water dripping everywhere, she prompted, “will you wipe off my leg with a towel so I can put it on?”
Hugh glanced over and grinned at her. "Do you want me to shave your leg too, Farmgirl?"
He put his razor down, and reached for a towel, sliding it across her leg. "Marce… I think my Dad isn't my Dad."
In the middle of putting her thick hair up into a bun, “Huh? You mean… after we talked and everything? Still?” Squeezing some butter onto her hand, she ran it over the hairs on her now dry leg. “What happened?”
"Don't hate me, I showed Blaze a family picture the other day." He knew Marce had said not to bother Blaze, but it honestly felt a bit as if it was anything but a bother. Hugh watched her putting the butter over her leg, his expression serious as he did.
There was a moment of silence that passed as Marceline finished lathering her leg. “And then?” She plucked her razor off the side of the tub.
"He said, he'd lay money on him not being my father," Hugh replied, leaving the towel in his hands for a moment, and watching the razor in Marce's hands because it was easier tof him to do that rather than look at her. "Face shapes, for starters - mine's different from my entire family. I'd have to test probably to know for certain. But."
The water blooped and swished as Marceline cleaned off her razor before going back in.
“How d’you feel about it?”
Hugh watched for a moment, thoughts churning around. They hadn’t entirely stopped since he and Blaze had talked originally. “Weirdly calm,” he told her finally. “I don’t know what I should be feeling, but I’ve never really connected to my dad. And I suppose there’s still a chance Blaze is wrong. I think what’s weird is the idea that … I mean if he’s right? Mom had an affair with someone at some point. I don’t know if I should test. Or if I should ask her. Or… Blaze said I should hire his dad.”
“You could. Mr. Wolfe’s good at what he does.” And maybe he could use the distraction, too.
He sat the towel down on the edge of the sink and reached for his razor again. "I didn't know if it would be a bad time, but Blaze didn't really seem to think it would be." He adjusted the blades and ran the beard trimmer down the side of his cheek carefully, quiet for a moment. "I guess… I don't know."
“You don’t have to know,” she replied automatically, speaking conversationally, as if they were talking about various types of pie, or cake, or coffee. “But whatever you wanna do, I’m here. You don’t have to go through it alone.”
He finished down his chin, and ran a finger over it. "I'm going to be happy to let wardrobe take this over again next week," he stated as an aside, putting the trimmer down. He put one hand on the lavatory, and turned around to give her a smile as his gaze glanced across her, though her eyes were concentrated hard-- real hard on her leg. "I don't know if I want to know or not, but I think as long as I don't it's going to keep… lingering. The idea is there, and I can't seem to get rid of it."
“Then we’ll figure it out and deal with whatever the answer is,” she offered, as she switched legs, offering him her other wet, hairy leg with a grin. “Towel me?”