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*shifts uncomfortably.*
hi all. i'm so terribly sorry about the delay in, well, EVERYTHING. for now, more drabbles! VERY LATE DRABBLES. but i still love everyone and hope you can excuse the tardiness :x
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sagibunu, who requested bubbles/boomer + horseback riding + summer showers:
“The problem is the dumb animal keeps throwing me off and galloping away.”
“The problem is you don’t even know how to ride a horse, and that ‘dumb animal’ is the wildest of the bunch.”
“The problem is I’m trying to impress you.”
“Ah.” Bubbles reclined to the best of her ability atop Tinker Bell, who whinnied softly. “Then the problem is you’re trying too hard.” She giggled as Boomer stood and dusted himself off. He shot a final glare in the direction of Peter Pan, who was steadfastly galloping off into the distance.
Bubbles extended her hand to him, her laughter fading. “Come on, you can ride back with me.”
“I can fly or walk back fine,” he pointed out, but she knew he was only saying it to say it. He took her hand with little hesitation and joined her on Tinker Bell, his blush faint and subdued.
It really was precious, she thought, and she couldn’t help but return the gesture with a blush of her own.
His hands alighted hesitantly on her hips as Tinker Bell started to trot. She suddenly felt very shivery despite the warm summer breeze and said in a loud, awkward-sounding voice, “You don’t have to try so hard, you know.”
Boomer rested his head on her shoulder. “Huh? You mean at impressing you?’
“Yeah.” His breath was skimming her neck and it was very difficult to concentrate.
Suddenly a drop of water smacked her against the cheek, and as they both looked up several more arrows of water began to join it.
“Are you kidding me? It’s like ninety degrees out here!” Boomer grumbled. He drew the back of his shirt up, the weave of fabric protesting as he stretched it over both their heads.
Bubbles dug her heels into Tink to hurry her on. “You see?” she said triumphantly. “As far as I can tell, you don’t need to bother with trying at all."
***
for anonymous, who requested the following four(!) pieces:
brick/blossom + handcuffs:
Brick’s arms are at his back and he’s handcuffed to a convenient pole, watching as Blossom straightens her skirt, her collar. She checks her watch; the police will be by in about ten minutes to collect Brick.
He gives his shackles a perfunctory jangle and notes, “I knew something was up when you whipped out the cuffs. Never really thought it was your kink.”
“Yes, you’re sort of an expert at knowing me, aren’t you,” she says disinterestedly, not looking at him.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. You just didn’t strike me as the type.” He pauses and considers. “Then again, you’re not exactly the type who tumbles into pub basements while kissing your mortal enemy.”
“It’s too bad you weren’t thinking about that when it happened. You might’ve been able to keep yourself from getting caught.”
“Yes, well,” Brick laughs a little. “You’re a mighty fine distracter.”
Blossom is quiet for a moment. “Cute, Brick. Real cute.”
“There’s just one thing I’m not really sure how you did. I’m good about guarding my drinks; I didn’t see you sneak a single thing into them. How’d you slip me the Antidote X?”
Blossom is quiet again, but this time she blushes and flicks her tongue between her lips, almost as a reflex.
Realization curves into an admiring smile on Brick’s face and he says, “Ah. I guess that explains the kissing, after all.”
***
boomer/bubbles + mistletoe:
“I just kissed Boomer,” Bubbles declared, a faraway look in her eyes.
Blossom paused and looked up from her Christmas cards. “You know, you just ruined a perfectly good evening for me.”
“No, you don’t understand! There was mistletoe. I had to kiss him. Look, I’ll show you…” Bubbles tugged something out of her coat pocket and proffered it to her sister, her face set and determined.
Blossom took one look at the object sitting in Bubbles’ hands and furrowed her brow. “Umm…”
“It’s mistletoe,” Bubbles clarified.
Blossom opened and closed her mouth a few times, then looked directly into Bubbles’ eyes and said slowly, “That is a pinecone. It is a pinecone with a tree branch tied to it with red ribbon.”
Bubbles blinked. “This… this isn’t mistletoe?”
“It is a pinecone with a tree branch tied to it with red ribbon,” Blossom repeated in a loud voice. “I’m afraid you’ve been had, Bubbles.”
Bubbles examined the faux mistletoe in her hands, a different sort of faraway look in her eyes. “Great. What am I supposed to do now?”
“If I were you, I’d probably go and exact swift, just revenge on a certain blue-eyed supervillain,” Blossom said matter-of-factly.
“No, that’s not really what I meant.”
“What do you really mean, then?” Blossom asked conversationally, filling out addresses and licking stamps.
Bubbles’ eyes were glazed and distant as she explained, “See, the thing is, I forced him to kiss me because I thought we were sitting under this mistletoe that wasn’t mistletoe.”
Blossom crumpled up an envelope. “Thanks. I just screwed up a perfectly serviceable Christmas card.”
“And then we wound up kissing for ten minutes.”
“You know,” Blossom started, then stopped and shook her head. “Never mind. Go ruin Buttercup’s night for me, if you could. I’m done.”
***
buttercup/butch + coffee:
Buttercup rubbed the grit from her eyes and stayed where she was in bed for a minute, staring at the ceiling as the smell of freshly made coffee wafted into the room. He never made her coffee, and the scent of it seemed terribly out of place in his musty apartment.
Eventually she rolled out of bed, dug one of his shirts out of the closet, and made her way down the stairs.
He stood at the window and substituted a morning greeting with a brief glance while he sipped at his mug.
She grunted or something and adjusted the sleeves; his shirts were easy things to get lost in. “Coffee, huh,” she said quietly, noting the second cup on the table. “What’s the occasion?”
Suddenly her chest jumped, her breath caught, and she merely stared at its wooden surface. Butch didn’t say a word.
Through the steam issuing from her mug she could glimpse a shiny new spare key sitting next to it.
She stood over the both of them, staring and staring.
“Listen, I’m only going to make you one copy,” Butch said finally as her hand closed around the key. “So don’t lose it.”
***
brick/blossom/butch + the movies + chocolate:
“You had your chance, you know,” Butch casually points out as they stop in front of the concession stand.
Brick is quiet and continues to stare at the women’s restroom.
“I mean, you could’ve—”
“I know,” Brick interrupts. The theatre next to them lets out, and scores of people begin pouring out of it. “I thought it was implied, I didn’t know I had to say it.”
“What, that you didn’t want me going near her?” Butch tugs his phone out and begins fiddling with it. A new Chocolate.
“I gave you that fucking thing for Christmas,” Brick reminds him.
“Yeah, and thank you for it.” Butch’s tone is flippant, annoyed. “Jesus, what the hell is taking her so long—”
“Why her? Why did it have to be her? I told you—I told you anyone but her, and you—”
“Don’t fuck with me. You never once told me that,” Butch snaps, ramming his phone back into his pocket. “You never once said it, and you know it.”
Brick wants a biting comeback, one that’ll smack his brother’s head clean off his Goddamn shoulders, but all he can think about is sitting behind them in the theatre, watching Blossom smile, laugh, blush when Butch takes her hand and whispers in her hair.
“Never once fucking said it,” Butch mutters, pissed off, and Brick wants to punch him in his fucking face.
“I thought it was implied,” he spits, and tears out of the theatre into the cold night seconds before Blossom reappears.
***
forblood_opal, who requested the following three pieces:
boomer/bubbles + first part-time job:
“What are you doing here?” a regrettably familiar voice asked, and Bubbles winced.
She squared her shoulders and tried to look dignified as she turned around and said to Boomer regally, “For your information, I’m a working girl now.”
His face lit up in bewilderment. “You? Working? Hah!”
She was getting really sick of people doing that every time she told them she had a job now.
“Yes, actually, I’m working, so if you’re just gonna stand there and not buy anything, leave,” she huffed, and glanced at her watch. Her face fell. Ever since she’d gotten this stupid job she never had time to do anything. The fact that it was Valentine’s Day and boys kept coming in to buy candy for their girlfriends was only adding insult to injury.
“Don’t worry, I’m here to buy,” Boomer announced, and she winced again. Great. “How long you been working here, anyway?’
“Almost two weeks. So what are you buying?”
“Eh, I’m no good at this shopping stuff.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “This is a candy store. How hard can it be?”
“Ah, whatever.” He grabbed a box off a shelf and tossed it on the counter. “Ring that up for me.”
After permitting him a glare she scanned it and retorted, “Yes, your highness.”
“Oh, and I want gift wrap.”
She closed her eyes, took a deep, calming breath, and asked through gritted teeth, “What do you want on the tag?”
“Um, let’s see…”
“I haven’t got all day, Boomer.”
“You really don’t want me to tip you, do you?”
“The tag?!”
“Make it ‘Happy…’”
“‘Happy…’” Bubbles repeated as she wrote.
“‘Valentine’s…’”
“‘Valentine’s…’”
“‘Day…’”
“‘Day…’”
“‘Bubbles.’”
She stopped, her eyes wide and face glowing.
“So if you’re not doing anything tonight… you know. And I figured you might like some nice first job memories and all.”
***
boomer/bubbles + scary movies:
“Oh my God,” Buttercup gasped. “That movie scared the crap out of me!”
Butch laughed. “You know that part when they were screaming—”
“And all the blood—”
“Oh my God, I thought I was gonna die!” Buttercup and Butch cackled, and Blossom rolled her eyes.
“You guys are real mature,” she said sarcastically. “That had to be the worst movie I’ve ever seen.”
“I saw you jump more than once,” Brick pointed out, and Blossom reddened.
“Well, it had some scary bits, but I’d say the gaping plotholes were the scariest thing about it.”
“Pft. You’re such a snob,” Buttercup said dismissively.
“What about you, Boomer?” Butch called to the back of the group. “What’d you think?”
Boomer took a moment to consider and looked down at Bubbles, who hadn’t let go of him since the movie had started and kept wriggling closer every time they passed a shadowy alley. A cat knocked over a trash can somewhere, and she yelped at the noise and clutched his arm.
“The movie? Oh, you know,” Boomer said, shrugging as Bubbles burrowed her face into his shoulder, “I didn’t think it was that bad at all.”
***
brick/blossom + sports competition:
“You know, this coming in dead last thing? Is mostly your fault,” Blossom groused as they presented shiny, fantastic gold medals to that other totally un-shiny and un-fantastic (not to mention un-gold-medal-worthy) team.
“My fault? Losing the relay was my fault?” Brick said incredulously.
“Of course it was, you idiot! In case you don’t remember, tackling occurs in football, not relay races!”
He had a terribly cross and conflicted look on his face.
“I mean, I thought we’d gotten past this whole lifelong enemies thing, but then you had to go and ruin my perfect track record…” Blossom humphed and blew her bangs out of her face. “Colleges don’t just look at GPA’s, you know. Performance in athletic competitions demonstrate discipline, determination—”
“Dickheadedness,” Brick muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.”
Blossom threw her arms up in the air. “I mean, seriously! All you had to do was pass me the baton! What were you thinking when you tackled me?!”
He mumbled something under his breath that she couldn’t hear.
“What? Go on, speak up, you owe me that much,” she sniped, leaning in closer.
“I said I was thinking you had a really cute butt,” he said a little more clearly, and her eyes went wide and she stepped back. “And then my brain just kind of stopped working, so… yeah.” He shrugged. “Um, sorry.”
***
forleronze, who requested butch/buttercup + one-sided brick/buttercup + fire:
Butch hasn’t learned Rule No. 1: Don’t play with fire.
Brick makes this observation to himself nearly every time he sees them together. The problem with his brother is he just doesn’t understand the first thing about Buttercup, even though the girl practically paints her emotions on the surface of her skin.
She’s intense, volatile, and hazardous, no question about that. Explosive. That’s a good one.
Butch pokes at her and amuses himself with the flicker in her gaze, but Brick can already tell that’s not going to last long.
Fire is to be cultivated, nurtured. It’s a resource. It’s a weapon.
And on the basest of levels, fire is also breathtakingly hypnotic.
Whether conscious or no, Buttercup beckons Brick closer, but there’s only so far you can go.
So he skirts the edges, waiting for the inevitable ashen pile as Butch laughs and dodges the licking flames.
***
the rest will come soon! as well as fic fic :B
profile was updated. is that worth mentioning?
for
sagibunu, who requested bubbles/boomer + horseback riding + summer showers:“The problem is the dumb animal keeps throwing me off and galloping away.”
“The problem is you don’t even know how to ride a horse, and that ‘dumb animal’ is the wildest of the bunch.”
“The problem is I’m trying to impress you.”
“Ah.” Bubbles reclined to the best of her ability atop Tinker Bell, who whinnied softly. “Then the problem is you’re trying too hard.” She giggled as Boomer stood and dusted himself off. He shot a final glare in the direction of Peter Pan, who was steadfastly galloping off into the distance.
Bubbles extended her hand to him, her laughter fading. “Come on, you can ride back with me.”
“I can fly or walk back fine,” he pointed out, but she knew he was only saying it to say it. He took her hand with little hesitation and joined her on Tinker Bell, his blush faint and subdued.
It really was precious, she thought, and she couldn’t help but return the gesture with a blush of her own.
His hands alighted hesitantly on her hips as Tinker Bell started to trot. She suddenly felt very shivery despite the warm summer breeze and said in a loud, awkward-sounding voice, “You don’t have to try so hard, you know.”
Boomer rested his head on her shoulder. “Huh? You mean at impressing you?’
“Yeah.” His breath was skimming her neck and it was very difficult to concentrate.
Suddenly a drop of water smacked her against the cheek, and as they both looked up several more arrows of water began to join it.
“Are you kidding me? It’s like ninety degrees out here!” Boomer grumbled. He drew the back of his shirt up, the weave of fabric protesting as he stretched it over both their heads.
Bubbles dug her heels into Tink to hurry her on. “You see?” she said triumphantly. “As far as I can tell, you don’t need to bother with trying at all."
***
for anonymous, who requested the following four(!) pieces:
brick/blossom + handcuffs:
Brick’s arms are at his back and he’s handcuffed to a convenient pole, watching as Blossom straightens her skirt, her collar. She checks her watch; the police will be by in about ten minutes to collect Brick.
He gives his shackles a perfunctory jangle and notes, “I knew something was up when you whipped out the cuffs. Never really thought it was your kink.”
“Yes, you’re sort of an expert at knowing me, aren’t you,” she says disinterestedly, not looking at him.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. You just didn’t strike me as the type.” He pauses and considers. “Then again, you’re not exactly the type who tumbles into pub basements while kissing your mortal enemy.”
“It’s too bad you weren’t thinking about that when it happened. You might’ve been able to keep yourself from getting caught.”
“Yes, well,” Brick laughs a little. “You’re a mighty fine distracter.”
Blossom is quiet for a moment. “Cute, Brick. Real cute.”
“There’s just one thing I’m not really sure how you did. I’m good about guarding my drinks; I didn’t see you sneak a single thing into them. How’d you slip me the Antidote X?”
Blossom is quiet again, but this time she blushes and flicks her tongue between her lips, almost as a reflex.
Realization curves into an admiring smile on Brick’s face and he says, “Ah. I guess that explains the kissing, after all.”
***
boomer/bubbles + mistletoe:
“I just kissed Boomer,” Bubbles declared, a faraway look in her eyes.
Blossom paused and looked up from her Christmas cards. “You know, you just ruined a perfectly good evening for me.”
“No, you don’t understand! There was mistletoe. I had to kiss him. Look, I’ll show you…” Bubbles tugged something out of her coat pocket and proffered it to her sister, her face set and determined.
Blossom took one look at the object sitting in Bubbles’ hands and furrowed her brow. “Umm…”
“It’s mistletoe,” Bubbles clarified.
Blossom opened and closed her mouth a few times, then looked directly into Bubbles’ eyes and said slowly, “That is a pinecone. It is a pinecone with a tree branch tied to it with red ribbon.”
Bubbles blinked. “This… this isn’t mistletoe?”
“It is a pinecone with a tree branch tied to it with red ribbon,” Blossom repeated in a loud voice. “I’m afraid you’ve been had, Bubbles.”
Bubbles examined the faux mistletoe in her hands, a different sort of faraway look in her eyes. “Great. What am I supposed to do now?”
“If I were you, I’d probably go and exact swift, just revenge on a certain blue-eyed supervillain,” Blossom said matter-of-factly.
“No, that’s not really what I meant.”
“What do you really mean, then?” Blossom asked conversationally, filling out addresses and licking stamps.
Bubbles’ eyes were glazed and distant as she explained, “See, the thing is, I forced him to kiss me because I thought we were sitting under this mistletoe that wasn’t mistletoe.”
Blossom crumpled up an envelope. “Thanks. I just screwed up a perfectly serviceable Christmas card.”
“And then we wound up kissing for ten minutes.”
“You know,” Blossom started, then stopped and shook her head. “Never mind. Go ruin Buttercup’s night for me, if you could. I’m done.”
***
buttercup/butch + coffee:
Buttercup rubbed the grit from her eyes and stayed where she was in bed for a minute, staring at the ceiling as the smell of freshly made coffee wafted into the room. He never made her coffee, and the scent of it seemed terribly out of place in his musty apartment.
Eventually she rolled out of bed, dug one of his shirts out of the closet, and made her way down the stairs.
He stood at the window and substituted a morning greeting with a brief glance while he sipped at his mug.
She grunted or something and adjusted the sleeves; his shirts were easy things to get lost in. “Coffee, huh,” she said quietly, noting the second cup on the table. “What’s the occasion?”
Suddenly her chest jumped, her breath caught, and she merely stared at its wooden surface. Butch didn’t say a word.
Through the steam issuing from her mug she could glimpse a shiny new spare key sitting next to it.
She stood over the both of them, staring and staring.
“Listen, I’m only going to make you one copy,” Butch said finally as her hand closed around the key. “So don’t lose it.”
***
brick/blossom/butch + the movies + chocolate:
“You had your chance, you know,” Butch casually points out as they stop in front of the concession stand.
Brick is quiet and continues to stare at the women’s restroom.
“I mean, you could’ve—”
“I know,” Brick interrupts. The theatre next to them lets out, and scores of people begin pouring out of it. “I thought it was implied, I didn’t know I had to say it.”
“What, that you didn’t want me going near her?” Butch tugs his phone out and begins fiddling with it. A new Chocolate.
“I gave you that fucking thing for Christmas,” Brick reminds him.
“Yeah, and thank you for it.” Butch’s tone is flippant, annoyed. “Jesus, what the hell is taking her so long—”
“Why her? Why did it have to be her? I told you—I told you anyone but her, and you—”
“Don’t fuck with me. You never once told me that,” Butch snaps, ramming his phone back into his pocket. “You never once said it, and you know it.”
Brick wants a biting comeback, one that’ll smack his brother’s head clean off his Goddamn shoulders, but all he can think about is sitting behind them in the theatre, watching Blossom smile, laugh, blush when Butch takes her hand and whispers in her hair.
“Never once fucking said it,” Butch mutters, pissed off, and Brick wants to punch him in his fucking face.
“I thought it was implied,” he spits, and tears out of the theatre into the cold night seconds before Blossom reappears.
***
for
blood_opal, who requested the following three pieces:boomer/bubbles + first part-time job:
“What are you doing here?” a regrettably familiar voice asked, and Bubbles winced.
She squared her shoulders and tried to look dignified as she turned around and said to Boomer regally, “For your information, I’m a working girl now.”
His face lit up in bewilderment. “You? Working? Hah!”
She was getting really sick of people doing that every time she told them she had a job now.
“Yes, actually, I’m working, so if you’re just gonna stand there and not buy anything, leave,” she huffed, and glanced at her watch. Her face fell. Ever since she’d gotten this stupid job she never had time to do anything. The fact that it was Valentine’s Day and boys kept coming in to buy candy for their girlfriends was only adding insult to injury.
“Don’t worry, I’m here to buy,” Boomer announced, and she winced again. Great. “How long you been working here, anyway?’
“Almost two weeks. So what are you buying?”
“Eh, I’m no good at this shopping stuff.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “This is a candy store. How hard can it be?”
“Ah, whatever.” He grabbed a box off a shelf and tossed it on the counter. “Ring that up for me.”
After permitting him a glare she scanned it and retorted, “Yes, your highness.”
“Oh, and I want gift wrap.”
She closed her eyes, took a deep, calming breath, and asked through gritted teeth, “What do you want on the tag?”
“Um, let’s see…”
“I haven’t got all day, Boomer.”
“You really don’t want me to tip you, do you?”
“The tag?!”
“Make it ‘Happy…’”
“‘Happy…’” Bubbles repeated as she wrote.
“‘Valentine’s…’”
“‘Valentine’s…’”
“‘Day…’”
“‘Day…’”
“‘Bubbles.’”
She stopped, her eyes wide and face glowing.
“So if you’re not doing anything tonight… you know. And I figured you might like some nice first job memories and all.”
***
boomer/bubbles + scary movies:
“Oh my God,” Buttercup gasped. “That movie scared the crap out of me!”
Butch laughed. “You know that part when they were screaming—”
“And all the blood—”
“Oh my God, I thought I was gonna die!” Buttercup and Butch cackled, and Blossom rolled her eyes.
“You guys are real mature,” she said sarcastically. “That had to be the worst movie I’ve ever seen.”
“I saw you jump more than once,” Brick pointed out, and Blossom reddened.
“Well, it had some scary bits, but I’d say the gaping plotholes were the scariest thing about it.”
“Pft. You’re such a snob,” Buttercup said dismissively.
“What about you, Boomer?” Butch called to the back of the group. “What’d you think?”
Boomer took a moment to consider and looked down at Bubbles, who hadn’t let go of him since the movie had started and kept wriggling closer every time they passed a shadowy alley. A cat knocked over a trash can somewhere, and she yelped at the noise and clutched his arm.
“The movie? Oh, you know,” Boomer said, shrugging as Bubbles burrowed her face into his shoulder, “I didn’t think it was that bad at all.”
***
brick/blossom + sports competition:
“You know, this coming in dead last thing? Is mostly your fault,” Blossom groused as they presented shiny, fantastic gold medals to that other totally un-shiny and un-fantastic (not to mention un-gold-medal-worthy) team.
“My fault? Losing the relay was my fault?” Brick said incredulously.
“Of course it was, you idiot! In case you don’t remember, tackling occurs in football, not relay races!”
He had a terribly cross and conflicted look on his face.
“I mean, I thought we’d gotten past this whole lifelong enemies thing, but then you had to go and ruin my perfect track record…” Blossom humphed and blew her bangs out of her face. “Colleges don’t just look at GPA’s, you know. Performance in athletic competitions demonstrate discipline, determination—”
“Dickheadedness,” Brick muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.”
Blossom threw her arms up in the air. “I mean, seriously! All you had to do was pass me the baton! What were you thinking when you tackled me?!”
He mumbled something under his breath that she couldn’t hear.
“What? Go on, speak up, you owe me that much,” she sniped, leaning in closer.
“I said I was thinking you had a really cute butt,” he said a little more clearly, and her eyes went wide and she stepped back. “And then my brain just kind of stopped working, so… yeah.” He shrugged. “Um, sorry.”
***
for
leronze, who requested butch/buttercup + one-sided brick/buttercup + fire:Butch hasn’t learned Rule No. 1: Don’t play with fire.
Brick makes this observation to himself nearly every time he sees them together. The problem with his brother is he just doesn’t understand the first thing about Buttercup, even though the girl practically paints her emotions on the surface of her skin.
She’s intense, volatile, and hazardous, no question about that. Explosive. That’s a good one.
Butch pokes at her and amuses himself with the flicker in her gaze, but Brick can already tell that’s not going to last long.
Fire is to be cultivated, nurtured. It’s a resource. It’s a weapon.
And on the basest of levels, fire is also breathtakingly hypnotic.
Whether conscious or no, Buttercup beckons Brick closer, but there’s only so far you can go.
So he skirts the edges, waiting for the inevitable ashen pile as Butch laughs and dodges the licking flames.
***
the rest will come soon! as well as fic fic :B
profile was updated. is that worth mentioning?