A Mended Family

by milomeepit

('You really shouldn't hate him. He's not so bad.' Gumball said. I glared at him. He shrugged. 'Worst comes to worst, we can always use ducktape.') If Marceline really hates her older brother, what happens when Gumball shows up at the Candy Kingdom in Ooo with the other Aaa people?

15. I'm Dealing With Three-Year-Olds

Chapter Fifteen

Gumball's P.O.V.

"Cuckoo, how?" Marshall asked, eyebrows furrowed into slim black caterpillars on his forhead as he thought.

"Uh, cuckoo, as in running around laughing hysterically, banging her head on ginger brick walls and nearly breaking Finn's arm when he got within ten feet of her."

I blinked. "What the…"

Marshall merely groaned. "About once a year, Marcy has these episodes. She acts all funny, her skin goes kinda weird, and she steals anything shiny within a six-mile radius. She normally comes home for them, which I'm guessing is because she doesn't want to hurt her friends. Of course, I used to think she just did it to be annoying." He added.

"Of course you would." Fionna snapped, her tone gone from bunny cutie-pie mode to kill in two seconds as she glared at him.

"Hey! I'm trying to be nice to her now!" Marshall protested,

"Yeah? Who threatened your guitar?" Fionna raised an eyebrow in obvious disbelief.

"Nobody! Finn pointed something out to me, and I had an epiphany, okay?" Marshall said tensely.

"I knew it." Fionna snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He growled angrily.

"You're not capable of just being nice! Stupid!" She cried.

"Tomboy!"

"Hipster!"

"Catgirl!"

"Fang-face!"

"Bunny-head!"

"Emo!"

"Hyper!"

"Fossil!"

"Toddler!"

"Goth!"

"Hippie!"

"Dweeb!"

"Noob!"

"Edward!" She threw out acidly as Marshall narrowed his eyes.

"Ditziod!" He yelled; making Fionna pause for a moment, hurt flickering behind the overcast of anger in her eyes.

During this three-year-old style argument, I'd been trying to think, scratching my head. I rolled my eyes, and as Marshall finished his last insult, my eyes slitted. Marshall would later tell me that he never knew that a guy who was 80% sugar could look so sour.

I fished a lamp off of my bedside table and threw it at Marshall. He ducked, well practiced in dodging my blows and throws, and it went sailing over his head to hit Fionna full in the face.

As I blinked, horrified, she gave out a slight moan and collapsed backwards onto my bed.

"Why?" Marshall raised an eyebrow at me from three feet above my head.

"Two things; one, Fionna's one of our friends, and you shouldn't insult her like that, and two, you two were getting on my last nerve. C'mon, let's go see what's going on with Marceline."