Hello everyone! After years of being an avid Bubbline shipper, I decided it was time to go ahead and write a high school AU of my own. I hope you enjoy it!

While I published the first few chapters to this story a few days ago, I revised it so that it flowed more smoothly. One of these revisions was completely replacing chapter 5. For those of you who read it- I'm sorry, please consider it a spoiler! It'll return in a few chapters, I promise.

Please tell me what you think! I love hearing from you all :) cheers!

Candied Apples and Bubblegum

Marceline was not pleased to be awoken so violently by the incessant beeping of her alarm. She reached for her phone, knocking it under her bed. Angrily she flew out of bed and pawed around the piles of clothes she'd shoved there before, finally grabbing it to shut it off.

Marceline sighed, running her fingers through her black mane of matted hair as she contemplated her options. She could go back to bed for another fifteen minutes, or she could take advantage of being up on time and shower in order to actually look presentable for her first day of school. She looked out the window, seeing only the first rays of sunlight beginning to shine through the blinds. It was stupid early.

Huffing, Marceline reset her alarm and fell face-first into the bed sheets, keeping her phone within reach this time so she wouldn't have to go fishing under her bed again. Just fifteen more minutes.

There was a soft beeping nearby. Or was it soft because it was far away? Marceline blinked away the remnants of her dreamscape to be hit square in the face by a ray of sunlight, and she realized in a moment of panic that the muted beeping was coming from her phone which she'd stuffed under her pillows as she slept. She fumbled with it, all but flying out of bed when she saw the time.

Of course she'd overslept. It was officially ten minutes before first period, and Marceline was rushing about her room gathering her things. She shoved a notebook, pen, and pencil into her tattered red messenger bag, then hurried to get dressed. She quickly pulled on her favorite ripped jeans, a tank top, and red flannel before stopping to slide on her black leather boots, stuffing the laces inside her shoe unceremoniously, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and running outside.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…

It was cold. She should have brought a jacket. She climbed into her car and gunned it, hoping to make it to school before her tardy earned her a call to her dad. One of those on the first day would be deadly.

—

"Bonnibel...Brinly?"

"Sorry I'm late!"

Bonnibel's hand paused in its ascent as she turned to the doorway to see a very disheveled girl run in and take a seat in the back of the room. She shook her head, perplexed as to how someone could be irresponsible enough to arrive late on the first day of school. The homeroom teacher, a small, round woman with a drawling accent, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and looked over the roster.

"Would you by chance be miss Marceline Abadee-ah?" She asked, tapping her clipboard with a pencil she'd kept tucked behind her ear.

"Abadeer. That's me." The girl, Marceline, leaned her chair back and propped her feet up on the table, avoiding eye contact with the teacher. Bonnibel thought she looked foolish, and bit back her anger at seeing the girl's muddied shoes soil the table. Delinquent.

"Well, Miss Abadee-ah, here in this class we follow a seating chart. And seeing as it goes in alphabetical order, well you're sitting next to Miss Brinly here at the front." The teacher pointed to the table Bonnibel sat at. Bonnie had wasted no time in filling the empty spot beside her with her study materials, and the sudden loss of space irritated her. She glared at Marceline as she slid her supplies back into her backpack, but Marceline didn't even spare her a glance.

The dark girl shrugged one shoulder, pulling her bag noisily behind her as she made her way to the front of the room to flop down into the empty seat beside Bonnibel. Immediately she took out her phone and began scrolling through it. What kind of student had Bonnibel been stuck with as a desk mate? She gave the girl a once-over, noticing immediately the greasiness of her unwashed, unbrushed hair and the wrinkles in her unbuttoned shirt. Her jeans were torn, her boots were scuffed, and her bookbag- if it could be called that, for it completely lacked books- was covered in pins and patches drawn in sharpie.

Bonnibel procured a notebook from her own bag and set it on the desk, moving forward to arrange her pencil case at the head of the desk to distract from her gaze wandering towards the phone cradled in the delinquent's- in Marceline's, she corrected herself- lap. The telltale blue and green bubbles meant she was texting someone. Shaking her head slightly, Bonnibel went over the literature notes from last semester, determined to be ready for her first period.

She didn't notice that as soon as she got to work, Marceline began scoping her out in return. She scowled at Bonnibel's taste in fashion palette- a pink fitted sweatshirt, lavender skinny jeans, and pink ballerina flats. She watched as Bonnibel twisted a lock of strawberry blonde hair through her fingers, completely engrossed in what seemed to be notes. From a class. How was it even possible to take notes in the year's first homeroom session?

Marceline looked closer and recognized a few author's names on the page Bonnibel was reading. They sounded familiar, like something she'd studied the year before at her old school, and she wondered if Bonnibel could be reading notes from the previous semester. She chuckled quietly. What a nerd.

The homeroom teacher spoke for what felt like forever. Her speech was slow and she dragged out her words, taking twice as long as necessary to say what she needed to. She'd introduced herself as Mrs. Almasy, going on a long tangent about the origin of her name and her inherited passion for apples. After being politely reminded of the time by goody-two-shoes Brinly, she revealed that the following week, each pair of students sitting at a table would be required to complete a project together to encourage civility, and immediately Bonnibel and Marceline scowled at each other in displeasure.

The bell rang at this opportune moment, and the students shuffled out of Mrs. Almasy's room as quickly as they could in order to avoid having to hear her speak any longer. Marceline swooshed out of the room in an instant, leaving Bonnibel to gather her things and arrange them in her bookbag in peace.