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Bubba felt his body tremble as he was shown that the fangs were, in fact, real. It wasn't in fear, though. Oh, no, it was in anticipation. He could feel those fangs sinking into his skin, and he had to control his breathing and heart-rate in order to keep his arousal down. If he ever got the opportunity to be on the recieving end of one of Marshall's bites, he didn't know what he'd do with himself. He'd probably just melt into a puddle of absolute pleasure. Bubba blindly followed after him, still trying to grab hold of himself. The sight of the inside of the house kind of shocked the dumb out of him. He had expected it to be darker, for some reason. He knew he wasn't the only person that lived here, but still. Everything was either a light blue, white, or shade of brown. It was neat and organized and there were statues and things of penguins decorating surfaces.

He silently followed him through the house and down a hallway. He almost ran into Marshall when the teen stopped suddenly and grasped a door handle, opening the door soon after. Gumball had to blink a little at how much in contrast the room was to the rest of the house. "It's so dark," he blurted out, following him inside the room. He awkwardly stood there for a moment, gazing around at the black walls with a deep red strip of colour wrapping around the top of it. He also noted that the trim around the room and the floor were both a dark cherry wood. He breathed in and almost fainted it smelled so wonderful in that room. He felt his knees buckle, but easily caught himself without too much notice, but knew he probably should sit down. He walked the few steps to Marshall's bed and plopped down on the dark comforter. He blinked when he heard a crinkle beneath him. He stood quickly and looked down at the bed, seeing a crinkled piece of paper there. He blushed. He hoped it wasn't important. After examining the hand-written page for a few more seconds, his eyebrows rose significantly in realization. "Marshall... Is this a song?" he asked, looking up at him questionably. He sat back down on the bed and looked it over more. He tried to hear the beat of it in his head, but the only thing he could come up with was a soft acoustic guitar. He couldn't really hear how the lyrics would be sung, though.

Gumball was startled once again when Marshall began freaking out and snatched the paper from him. He frowned a little when he watched him lock it away in his drawer. Then there was a flat stomach in his face. He blushed lightly and looked up, eyes widening slightly when Marshall was so close to his face. He breathed shallowly, looking up into his eyes as he fought with himself. There was no way Marshall meant to get that close to his face. He didn't feel that way towards him, no matter how much he told himself it might be possible. On the other hand...there was an opportunity laid out before him, and he was very tempted to take it. His mouth fell open slightly, ragged breath falling on Marshall's lips. He was consumed by the dark-haired male's scent and felt a little light-headed from the blood rushing through his body. "Marshall..," he whimpered softly.

His thoughts seemed to snap back to the fact that he was supposed to be going home and he looked away before their lips could touch. He looked to the side. "I should probably be getting home," he told him quietly and scooted to the side slightly before standing from the bed. How could he even think Marshall liked him like that? He was delusional. It was just an accident that they were so close. How would Marshall even react if he had leaned up those few inches and kissed him? He'd probably kick him out and tell him to walk home and never speak to him again. Or take him home but not speak to him at all. He couldn't handle that. He couldn't handle no contact with the boy he loved. "I don't live that far away, so it shouldn't be that long of a drive," he told him, clearing his throat first to speak in his usual confident voice.

Gumball chanced a glance up to Marshall's face. He was confused by how much hurt he saw there, no matter how much he tried to conceal it. Right as he was about to say something in question to it, Marshall was walking out the door and calling for him to follow. He looked at the floor before moving his feet, glancing back at the locked desk drawer that held the song in it, curiosity still running wild. He hadn't gotten a chance to read all of it, but it seemed like a sweet and...well...very Marshall Lee song. He smiled a little, thinking about it as he followed Marshall down to the garage again. When he closed the door leading from the garage to the house behind him, he stood there for a moment and looked up at Marshall. "Are you okay..?" he asked him timidly. "I mean, I know I don't really know you all that well, I guess, but I can tell you're upset about something." He walked over to the bike and lifted the helmet from the handle bar, placing it back on his head. He waited for Marshall to back the bike out of the driveway so they could get going. He messed with the too-long sleeves of the plaid shirt, gripping the cuffs in his hands happily and looking down at his feet as he waited for him to speak and back the bike out.

Gumball blushed a little and struck a dumb-founded face at Marshall's question. He blinked at him confusedly. Did Marshall just ask him to hang out outside of school? It took him a few moments to get a grasp on himself before giving him a bright grin. No one had asked him to hang out after school! Ever! Not even Fionna! He nodded his head quickly. "I'd love to!" he chirped happily, eyes sparkling with excitement. He took his hand and hopped onto the back of the bike, wrapping his arms around his waist again tightly, full of excitement now. Before his heart had felt heavy because he hadn't taken the opportunity in front of him, but now he was happy and felt light. He froze up for a moment, realization hitting him. Wait. Why'd he specify that it wasn't a date. His heart fell again. Had Marshall figured it out? Had that accident led Marshall to see how much he liked him? So...Bubba guessed he knew that Marshall didn't like him since he specified that it wasn't a date. He wanted to just be friends. Hopefully he didn't tell anyone about him being gay, though... He sighed softly as the bike revved. Well, at least he wasn't pushing him away. At least he wanted to hang out now. He smiled a little at that. A thought hit him and he looked up over Marshall's shoulder. He pointed to the street ahead of him, directing him which way to get to his house. I can deal with being friends. At least he's in my life. He still felt a sense of dream in his stomach, but he would get over it...eventually.

Gumball kept a smile on his face the whole ride home. He happily rested his chin on Marshall Lee's shoulder, enjoying the closeness once again. It was a fairly calm ride, and then Marshall asked which was his. A blush covered his face and he pointed straight ahead to the house directly in front of them with two large wrought-iron gates with the letters "G" and "B" on them. It was a large four-story home with a fairly large front yard, a wooden swing hanging from the brance of an old oak in the front yard. A large garden lined the front wall of the house and vines grew up over the railing of the wrap-around porch. An elegant double-doored front door had the street number posted above it. He was quiet for the rest of the drive up to the gate. It wouldn't open without a pin punched in. He hopped off of the bike and faced Marshall, taking off the helmet and looking up at him. "Thank you for driving me home," he told him just loud enough for the other teen to hear him over the motorcycle. He held onto the helmet, not really wanting Marshall to leave, but he knew his mom wouldn't like if he brought unexpected company inside the house. Reluctantly, he handed over the helmet and moved to get his books...until he realized that his books were a few neighborhoods over...in Marshall's room. He frowned slightly and looked back up at him. "My books are still in your bag," he pointed out. He suddenly had an idea. He felt around in his pockets until he found a pen in the front pocket and pulled it out. He grabbed Marshall's arm suddenly and jotted down some numbers before putting a little heart after them. He put the pen away and smiled. "My number," he said loudly over the roaring of the bike. "It'd be awesome if you went and got my books and then just texted me when you got back," he said hopefully.

Gumball couldn't stop smiling even after Marshall was long gone. He walked over to the key pad and punched in a series of numbers before the gates squng open slowly. He happily walked up his driveway and a few minutes later reached his front door. Upon entering his house, he was immediately assaulted with questions of where he had been and who had dropped him off. Tears began to gather in his eyes immediately at all of the screaming. He had always had pretty sensitive ears, and it always hurt when they yelled at him for something dumb. He held his hands over his ears, a rush of air flowing past his face that was Marshall's scent. Oh, God, he smells amazing. I forgot I had this... His body immediately felt calm, mind full of the scent of the male he loved. He opened his eyes and looked up at his mother, blinking a few times before he said back in a calm voice, "His name is Marshall. He's my friend. He gave me a ride home since you couldn't pick me up. He is dropping my books off in a minute because I forgot them at his house. And I'd appreciate it if you would stop ye--" He was cut off by a quick slap across his cheek tht threw him back a few steps. He held his face, caught his balance and looked up in shock at his mother's angry face. She had never hit him before... He huffed angrily and stomped upstairs to his room, easily slamming the door behind him. He plopped down on his bed and curled up on it, feeling tears finally sting his eyes. He held his hands to his face, palms covered with the cloth of Marshall's shirt. He sobbed softly, letting the tears flow and shakily pulled his phone out of his pocket and laying it by his face, waiting for Marshall's call.

Bubba smiled a little when Marshall finally called him back. He tried to stop his sniffling before he answered, but apparently he did a crappy job of it. As soon as Marshall asked what was wrong, Bubba let out a soft sob then sniffled again, wiping his face. "J-Just wait down there. I'll be down in a minute," he told him quietly before hanging up. He sat up straight and wiped hsi face off as much as he could before taking in a deep breath to calm himself. Then he stood, hurried out of his room and down the stairs, basically flying past his mother in the living room and out the front door. He slowed down a little when he got halfway down the driveway. Little did he know, his cheek was bright red still from the slap his mother gave him. He smiled with red-rimmed eyes at Marshall as he opened the gate for him. He stepped outside of it and took his books gingerly into his arms. "Thank you," he told him quietly, voice still cracking from crying. He hugged the books to his chest as he smiled slightly up at the dark-haired teen.

Bubba's fake smile turned into a frown again, tears filling his eyes when Marshall didn't even try to believe his facade. He was silent while he was pulled up onto the bike. He kept one arm around the books and the other around Marshall's waist while he drove up to the house. He slid off of the back of the bike and just nodded when Marshall said he was coming inside. He knew he didn't need any help with his homework, but he had a feeling Marshall wasn't going to back down. It was comforting to know Marshall cared that much about him, though. He walked ahead of him and opened the door, still not answering his repeated question. He glanced back to make sure Marshall was following him inside then walked silently through the house and up two flights of stairs, ignoring his bickering parents in the living room. He led him up to his room. His door was already open, so he just walked right into the wood-covered room with pink and white accents and sat on his bed quietly. He reached over and slid his books and binders onto his desk that's beside the bed then he looked up at Marshall. "Can you close the door?" he asked politely, plopping backwards onto the bed and sighing softly. He wrapped his arms around himself, reveling in the feeling of being in Marshall's over-large shirt. He smiled softly, closing his eyes for a moment to try and will the growing headache away from him.