Speed dating.
21-year-old Buttercup tries speed dating.
This is just a short one-shot, possibly a two-shot, depending on you, the reader! If you guys want more, I'll write more. Details at the end.
I don't own The PowerPuff Girls or any affiliated parties.
..
..
..
..
..
A lot of stupid decisions had been made in Buttercup's lifetime. A lot. But this was one she was sure to never forget.
It had been Bubbles' idea. The already-engaged blue PowerPuff felt sorry for her "single forever" maid of honor and had taken pity on her.
"Try this new place out," the blonde had said. "It's called The Brim. I think you'll like it."
So she did. She took her sister's advice, threw on an old pencil skirt and a green blouse with some lime green pumps to match, tossed her long raven hair into a ponytail and off she went.
Of all the stupid decisions she'd made, this was, by far, the stupidest.
Bbbbring!
The little bell rang, signaling the beginning of the cycle. There were 20 males and 23 females. Buttercup was given a little card with the number 17 written on it in red. She pinned it to her blouse and plopped herself down in the first seat.
She got lucky. Screw conversation, this first guy was smoking hot. Number 12? Yes. Oh, hell yes. She inwardly wondered how good he was in bed. He had light blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes. He was built to perfection, his muscles visible even through that t-shirt he wore. She raised her eyebrows. Five minutes would never be enough for all the things she imagined doing to this man.
"Hi, my name is Marcel," he said very femininely. Buttercup faltered, but kept the smile.
"Buttercup," she responded.
Marcel nodded. "A pleasure, Buttercup. You know, my brother Hans told me about this place. He told me it would be a great place to meet new people, and get my mind off of things that troubled me."
Buttercup nodded. This guy was strange. But she'd bite. "Like what?"
His eyebrows furrowed. "Well. I'm trying to convert..."
"Ah, religions?"
He squirmed. "Well, no," he said ever so slowly. "I'm previously gay."
..
..
..
..
..
The first thing Buttercup noticed about number 9 was his nose. It was long and pointy and it reminded her of a wicked witch somehow.
"I'm Brandon," he said. His voice was much more masculine. Despite the nose, he had a good head of curly, chocolate brown hair and a great smile.
Buttercup smiled back and introduced herself. She figured she would let this guy do the talking, since she wasn't that interested in him to begin with. What a terrible idea.
Brandon started out by sharing the story of how his great great uncle something-or-other had practically invented speed dating. Then he led into how many times he'd been speed dating without any luck, and he disgraced his ancestors for not knowing the proper technique. After that, he explained the exact art of courtship and how it should be played out, as told by his great grandmother, who was the first to discover head cheese. Finally, he wrapped it up by saying how delicious his sister's husband's grand pappy's roast beef sandwiches are, and how Buttercup should really try one, they're famous in Chicago, doesn't she know?
"Well, enough about me, what about you?"
It's about damn time, Buttercup thought. She smirked and sat up, opened her mouth to speak and—
Bbbbring!
..
..
..
..
..
"What a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I am Edmund Deschamps the Third. But you can call me Edmund."
Wow, was he for real? Buttercup rolled her eyes and responded sharply, "I'm Buttercup. The first. You can call me Buttercup."
The man scrunched up his pig nose and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. It was very short and could barely be called a haircut. He wore a white suit and the ugliest purple tie Buttercup had ever seen in her life. This number 2 had dark eyes and a snooty look. Buttercup did not approve.
"I come from a long line of esquires and the like..." Edmund snorted. "How is your family history?"
Buttercup just stared back at him. "I was created in a lab. I'm a superhero."
Edmund scoffed. "Your sense of humour is awfully dry," he chuckled, making a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue.
Buttercup raised an eyebrow and eyed his hideous purple tie. Within one second, she had set it on fire with her laser vision. Edmund yelped and the woman next to him splashed a glass of water in his face. Buttercup grinned.
..
..
..
..
..
Do you ever get that feeling, when you see someone you recognize, and you swear you know them from somewhere but you just can't place a name with a face?
That's exactly the way Buttercup felt as number 20 plopped himself down in the chair across from her. She studied his face for a moment, and she swore she knew those features, but who was he?
His jet-black hair was short and naturally, gell-lessly spiked up in the front. He had a silver earring stud in one ear and his dimpled smirk was all too familiar. He had a bit of dark stubble on his face from lack of a shave and his eyes lazily returned her gaze. He had deep, jade green eyes that held hers unfalteringly. He was leaning casually back in his chair on two feet, his arm draped over the side of it like he was lounging on the couch at home.
Whoever he was, he wasn't making any effort at conversation. The awkward silence occupied nearly a full minute of their time before Buttercup finally cleared her throat.
"Uh... I'm Buttercup," she said easily, extending a hand as if to shake. He stared at her hand with laughter in his eyes.
"I know who you are," he said coldly, not returning the gesture. Buttercup lowered her hand, confused and a bit belittled. "I'm actually surprised to see you here. It's been quite some time, Butterbutt." he smirked.
That's when it hit her. She squinted. "Butch?"
He lowered the chair onto all fours. "Good to see you too, Greenie. How've you been?"
Buttercup quickly glanced at the large clock which indicated their time. 3:44 left. She flicked her gaze back to him and half smiled.
"I've been... Alright." she responded. At that, he nodded as if he accepted this answer.
Now that Buttercup knew who the mystery man was, unhelpful thoughts began to creep into her mind. Thoughts of him. And her. Together. Alone. She half shuddered pleasurably, half winced in disgust at the thoughts. They were not unlike those which she'd thought about the first man. In fact, they were more detailed.
"You look good," he said, surprising her. His rough hands lay folded on the table. She imagined those hands, getting tangled in her hair, running down her body, feeling her, touching her.
Why in the world was she having these thoughts about him? She was a grown woman, and having been unluckily exposed to the world of sex by a pushy boyfriend back in 11th grade, she knew what two bodies were capable of doing. And she couldn't contain herself there at the table. She had to get away from there. Clock again. 2:06. Damn.
She tried to play it cool. "Thanks," she replied, pushing her semi-long bangs behind her ear habitually. "You do, too."
He smiled at her and leaned forward, whispering, "No, I mean... You look really good."
She felt herself blushing, but she didn't care. She could feel his hot breath on her skin, his deep voice cutting all other sounds out of her mind. 1:43.
A deep breath. A tentative lean in. A reply: "You too."
Butch leaned back in his chair again. He threw his arm around the back and lifted the first two legs up again. She leaned back, too. 1:37.
"So, how're your sisters?" he made eye contact with her. His eyes pierced hers and did not look away.
"They're fine," Buttercup replied. She stared him right back in the eyes. His gaze was lazy, but intense. Hers was desperate and equally, if not more, intense. "Blossom's in Japan on international study."
Butch nodded, not breaking eye contact. "Good for her."
"Yeah."
0:56.
For most of the remaining time, they stared at each other wordlessly. The dull noise of the room became almost silent, drowned out by the obvious sexual tension between the two. Buttercup was itching to reach across the table and run her slender fingers through his luscious looking hair. She longed to let her mouth meet his in unending matrimony.
0:05.
0:04.
0:03.
0:02.
0:01.
Bbbbring!
Neither of them budged. A short, stout, bearded man was trying to cut in where Butch was seated, but the raven-haired man didn't move a muscle. He still kept his eyes locked with Buttercup's.
"Hey, buddy, the bell rang!" the short man shouted in Butch's ear. "It's time to switch now! Give other guys a turn!"
Butch finally broke the staring contest and glanced up at the short man, who was quite red in the face. He shrugged. "Yeah, I don't think I want to." he stood up, patted the man on the shoulder, and looked back at Buttercup.
"Wanna get out of here?" he asked her meaningfully, nodding his head towards the door.
Buttercup hadn't looked away for a second; hadn't even blinked.
"Yes, oh god yes." she moaned. She stood up, following Butch out of that horrid place, leaving the short man speechless and flabbergasted.
Once outside, Buttercup couldn't resist him any longer. She ran her hands down his chest, feeling rock-hard abs beneath his shirt. She gripped the fabric of his shirt in a tight grasp. He smirked at her and leaned in to finally 'seal the deal' of their stand, when—
"Oh, get a room!" some guy walking by shouted at them. Butch aimed a laser straight for his belt, which disintegrated, causing his pants to fall to his ankles. He scuttled away, embarrassed, as Butch met Buttercup's pleading eyes once more. Damn, she was really begging for it. He lifted her off the ground, a streak of dark green light trailing behind him, taking off with her in his arms.
..
..
..
..
..
That is all. T-T I wanted to write more, but I didn't know if you people would want me to. Let me know if you want it to continue ;D because trust me. I will continue it. But the rating will have to be raised to M... Just to forewarn. I hope you enjoyed it ^.^ please review and let me know what you think!