Gumlee Short Stories

This One Time At Band Camp...

"Alright, water break! Back on the field in five minutes! I want to run the show two more times!" The band director shouted into her microphone. There was a mutual sigh of relief throughout the band as they dropped their instruments and ran towards the other side of the practice field where their water bottles were, cold and in the shade. Gumball carefully laid his flute on the dry grass and ripped the lyre off of his forearm before wiping away the sweat on his forehead.

It was early in the morning and sun was brighter and hotter than ever. This was only the first rehearsal of the day and he was already tired. It didn't help that one of his roommates had kept him up all night. But he couldn't complain too much, it was one of the perks of being gay: you always get to room with your boyfriend. Speaking of boyfriend, just as Gumball was following the crowd, he felt a poke on his shoulder and turned to see his boyfriend, Marshall Lee, grinning happily at him from behind his mirrored sunglasses, twirling a drumstick in between his fingers.

Marshall Lee Abadeer was the lead snare and section leader for the drumline. He got to do count-offs, taps, and announce cadences for the band to march to. Essentially, he was pretty cool, if you couldn't already tell from his shades, backwards hat, and ripped tank top. Gumball was lucky, or at least he always thought he was. Marshall could've had anyone, and he chose him.

"Five minutes, huh? That's three more than usual," Marshall stated, wrapping his muscly arm around Gumball's shoulders. He was sweaty and didn't smell that great, but neither did Gumball so he didn't care.

"I guess Petrikov is going easy on us. I heard it's supposed to reach a hundred and three degrees today, hottest it's been all summer."

"Damn. And of course Glob can't spare us with any clouds. I think I can hear my skin sizzling off," he laughed. Gumball laughed too, relating. The two separated once they were reunited by friends and comfortable shade, going to their own designated baskets that were organized by section. Gumball searched the bin for his signature pink water bottle but frowned when he couldn't find it. Did someone take it? Maybe one of the band moms were refilling it again? Gumball shrugged and decided to just go and beg his boyfriend for a few gulps of his water instead.

When he turned around he was instantly met with a cold splash to his face. Gumball flinched with a gasp and opened his eyes to see his good friend and co-section leader, Fionna Mertins, standing in front of him, soaking wet and holding his beloved water bottle with a smug look.

"WET T-SHIRT CONTEST!" She yelled before squirting his torso, thus making his now see-through shirt stick to his body uncomfortably. Before Gumball had a chance to scold her, she threw his bottle at him before running off and splashing more people. He smiled at his best friend with a shake of his head and squirted water into his mouth before going to find Marshall in the crowd of band geeks. He found his boyfriend with his bass drum playing friend, Flame, playing with their water bottles, like most everyone else was doing in an attempt to cool off while having fun.

Gumball got an idea as a smirk rose to his face. He took one last chug of the icy water before unscrewing the top and charging at Marshall. He ripped off his baseball cap and dumped the freezing cold liquid all over his boyfriend's head. The black-haired senior let out a high-pitched shriek, making Gumball and Flame almost fall over with laughter.
Marshall glared at them. He was soaked from head to toe and his sunglasses were slipping off his face. Just one look at his boy's expression set Gumball into another fit of hysterics.

"Oh, you are SO gonna get it, B! And give me back my hat!" Marshall flicked his wet strands out of his face before lunging at his pink-haired boyfriend. He dodged and ran away, pulling the cap over his head and sticking his tongue out, clearly teasing him. "No, it's too hot to chase after you, Bubbs," Marshall crossed his arms over his chest, not wanting to do anymore exercise than he was doing on the field.