8-1-12

Summary–Butch with his enthusiasm; Buttercup with her commitment-phobia; and their complicated, almost, not-quite relationship.

Disclaimer–I do not own The Powerpuff Girls, which belongs to its respective owner(s) and is only being used in a fan-made, fictional story.

xoxo

Title–For fear this might end well

Chapter 1–pushing me away so I give her space

By–Moon Prynces

xoxo

He sighed for the nth time as she turned away to join a group of her friends that magically appeared whenever he tried to talk with her seriously about anything these days.

And as he ran a hand through the random mess that was his hair he accidentally caught Blossom's worried gaze and looked away before it could get to him.

There was no choice but to head to class after that; the bell would ring in a second and Buttercup didn't even glance back at him after their brief exchange.

It was after he took his usual seat and the lesson began – revealing that he already understood the concepts on the board – that he let his thoughts linger to his current personal problems with his supposed, soon-to-be girlfriend.

She probably thought that he'd back far, far away after a few days. Maybe she even thought he'd break up with her over her avoidance and be done with her. Maybe...she was hoping for it – anything to get rid of any unpleasantness in her life.

But he'd already stuck it out with this behavior a week now. And for being in high school, that was saying something.

Things had started out so great. Of course, he had been the one to make the first move...

"Detention. Both of you."

"Wha–" She stood up with mouth agape, thinking this an unfair punishment.

Butch just shook his head to himself, still sitting down calmly behind her seat.

"Down, Buttercup."

She had no choice but to grit her teeth and follow orders as the teacher stared her down.

"Today. Room 316. You'll both have an essay assignment waiting for you," he continued without looking up from shuffling around papers on his desk. The empty classroom echoed. "I'll see you two there."

Without a proper goodbye, he turned and left the room with a textbook and stack of worksheets in hand.

Buttercup rounded on her classmate, even though it was lunchtime and she could escape to complain loudly to her sisters and friends.

"What is wrong with you?" she asked viciously, practically foaming at the mouth.

"You didn't have to elbow me," he countered, looking miffed as well. The slight redness on his right cheek was fading but the pain was still there. God, did she have bony elbows.

"Don't touch my hair!" she screeched, standing again and placing both hands on his desk. She glanced down at it, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Your desk is like two inches closer than it was yesterday." And she forcefully pushed it back toward him, knocking the air out of his lungs.

She followed their teacher's example and left without another word. When she was gone, Butch stood up slowly, holding his stomach in pain and testing his limits.

But he still grinned to himself.

A similar grin worked its way onto his face as he reminisced.

Maybe it hadn't been perfect...but it was a start.

He took his time getting up as class ended. Taller than the average, he could have easily waded through the crowd and made a pit stop at BC's locker.

But he decided against it and made leisurely strides to his next class.

Anyway, after that day with detention it was smooth sailing. At least she knew who he was, acknowledged his presence when she caught sight of him, even said hi once in a while...

"Get out of my way, loser."

He glanced over his shoulder blankly to see her dark hair just as she pushed past him.

But it was understandable. This was the only route to the gym.

He watched as she rounded the corner, and realized the scene was pretty empty. So he slammed his locker shut quickly and jogged to catch up to her, despite having no business in this direction.

She was just about to pull open one in a set of blue double doors, and he could already hear the sounds of sneakers squeaking against the overly-polished hardwood floors.

"Hey!" he called down the short corridor.

She started at the sound and glanced up sharply in his direction. Her face set into an irritated expression. "Did you need something?" Before he could answer that query she continued with, "Like a bruise to bring to the infirmary?"

He couldn't help smiling at her remark, which only caused her to become alarmed and confused.

"Look, how about I stop being a creep and you stop being a bitch and we go out to eat later?"

She stared at him blankly, hand hanging limply onto the door handle. She opened her mouth to answer, not giving any indication to what she would say. "I–"

And then the door swung open and smacked her in the side of the face. Ouch.

Butch inhaled sharply as the unknown person began apologizing to Buttercup, who was on the floor and holding both hands a few inches away from the now swollen area as if afraid to make contact.

"I-I can't believe this," she finally let out, looking up as he came closer to crouch and examine the damage.

Did she agree to go out with him? Well, the answer should be obvious.

...

Actually, and he looked up to see the dark head of hair across the room. Maybe it wasn't, judging by the current situation.

They'd only been seeing each other for a little over a month now. Things had been going so well.

For someone so gung-ho and unnecessarily rough at times, Buttercup was surprisingly fun and easily cheerful about this whole relationship thing. It was nothing new to her, apparently.

She liked seeing movies, but hated going to theaters. Her idea of a good Monday night involved alcohol (underage drinking!). And she'd snuck him into and out of her room every chance she had – to which he tried to argue because he didn't want to come off as that guy to her entire family.

Who ever knew she was the type?

Well, he did, now.

xoxo

There was the sound of something crashing and he winced while walking into the living room.

Butch rubbed at his hair with the towel around his shoulders and glanced, with another flinch, at the television where a car was exploding unrealistically.

He sat down heavily on the empty couch as Brick clutched the purple controller tightly in hand, attempting some maneuver. And instead of his attention going to the action on-screen, he was stuck staring at the device his brother held onto.

He stared at the controller in her hands as she watched the TV with the most serene expression he'd ever seen on her face. None of the little animated people running around or random fires going on or the sounds of police sirens fazed her.

Until she finally died and tossed the thing onto the coffee table.

"Hey, watch it!" he said instantly. "Brick's gonna have a fit if there's even a scratch."

Buttercup turned her head to him slowly in what would be a creepy way if there wasn't also a knowing, sensual smile blooming on her lips.

He watched cautiously, already used to her devious ways. But he still wasn't prepared for her to inch closer to his end of the couch, and then carefully climb into his lap with her arms wrapping loosely around his neck.

Butch shook his head with a small smile of his own. "BC, what are you doing?"

She sighed nonchalantly. "That game got boring."

"So, I'm just another game now?" he questioned with a smirk, leaning back into the sofa and not giving her the satisfaction of putting his hands on her.

She leaned in to kiss him and mumbled just before they touched, "No."

For the next few moments they got carried away. And she forgot about the video game she lost and he forgot about the fact that they weren't actually alone in the house – Boomer was in his room listening to music.

His arms wound around her middle, keeping their bodies together as they made-out. But then it ended.

And as they pulled apart, lips the last thing to disconnect and foreheads still leaning toward each other, he started to say something.

"I really like you..."

With eyes still closed from their previous kiss, his quiet words were drowned out when she leaned in again to silence him.

He didn't think anything of it at the time. Only that she was possibly just as happy as he was in that moment. That she understood. That she must be satisfied with him finally giving a real confession of feelings – an actual foundation to all this hanging out they'd been doing lately.

Butch blinked his eyes open to see his bedroom ceiling with the street lights sneaking in from the slightly open window blinds.

He threw an arm across his face to block out the memory, feeling stupid all over again. Because now he knew.

She didn't care about the confession except to delay hearing it – maybe not wanting to hear it at all.

It wasn't until another week had passed and they both stayed up late one night, on the phone with each other, that he took notice of some things.

He only asked a few simple things in-between their bickering about music and mocking each other over food preferences. Things like, how her sisters were and was he ever going to officially meet her family. She had already been introduced to his, seeing as they usually hung out at his house.

She kind of dodged around the questions, charming him into forgetting for the moment.

Whenever he found his footing and went back to the previous, unfinished topics she pretended to be busy doing something around her room and hadn't heard his words. Sometimes she just seemed to "not pay attention" or "space off" and had forgotten what they were talking about altogether.

Didn't take a genius to figure it out, although he kind of wished she'd just say the words.

She didn't really want to get to know him, and vice versa. They hung out, made-out, watched movies at her place or his, and he wasn't too keen on drinking so she didn't do it in front of him but still...he only got what she was willing to give. It had been fine at first, but now it just didn't seem like much. A cheap, shiny trinket to keep him distracted from any real treasure.

Why was it so hard to get close to her? It never really seemed like she was damaged over anything. She was all too eager to enjoy the beginning stages of their relationship where things were happy and fun and not serious.

So now what? Did she really want it to be over before it even got started?

Butch closed his eyes, trying to not think and fall back asleep.

xoxo

The room was relatively quiet, with the sounds of pencils scratching across paper and students shifting restlessly in their seats. The teacher glanced up for a moment to retain order.

He stared down at the questions in front of him. All so easy, with the few possible options underneath each but only one right answer.

All he did was ask a few questions, too. And whatever options she had to choose from...she made the wrong choice.

It was why they were sitting at opposite ends of the cafeteria and she subtly ducked into the girl's bathroom when she saw him coming and sat as far away as possible from him during every class, even striking a deal or two to switch her seat with people.

But with the way things had been going, with her being so easy to talk to, he thought she would be more open. Or at least avoid the apparently uncomfortable issues in the moment and then get back to him the next day like nothing happened.

All this avoidance was so overdramatic and ridiculous.

He was just curious. And he had expected her to ask it first, actually.

What were her past relationships like? Who was the last person she dated?

If these two hadn't put him in this current predicament then he might have even asked...how far she'd gone before – seeing as she didn't seem like a stranger to the physical aspects of a relationship.

Well, now that he paid attention, he supposed this could be an answer.

Obviously something weird happened and she didn't want to talk about it, right? Bad relationships, crappy guys, stuff like that?

But it was more than that. She couldn't even look at him, reply to any text messages, didn't want to sit near him in class!

And he didn't even do anything!

xoxo

He caught sight of her alone at her locker, for once. And he was relieved to notice that the hallway was pretty much deserted; classes were over, and all but athletes and club members had left twenty minutes ago.

"Hey," he started casually as he drew closer.

Her head snapped from looking down into her bag to staring into her locker. But she didn't try to run away.

"Hey," she returned in the same manner, grabbing another textbook from her storage space.

"You need some help?" he questioned while watching her struggle to hold everything at once.

"I, uh–"

He stopped her before a poor excuse tumbled out. "Okay."

There was some awkward moment of silence as she stared into her locker. "So..."

"I'll be around, you know. Just...find me when..." He trailed off, unsure how to finish this without being misunderstood.

And he left after making sure she caught his look that said, I'm not done with you. This isn't close to being over.

xoxo

His phone started buzzing, and before he could reach over to the end table it vibrated right onto the floor.

When he finally snatched it up and checked, the message only made him frown in slight confusion.

So he didn't bother typing out a reply, instead just calling her number.

"I didn't expect that," she answered.

"It's like eleven o'clock. Shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked back.

She scoffed loudly.

"And it's Thursday."

"Look, are you coming out with me or not? I'm hungry. And it's just a quick bite."

"What could possibly be open right now?"

"The drive-thru." She paused. "Are you in or out?"

He took a moment to think this over. But his decision was already made.

It was the first time she'd tried to contact him since she began avoiding him. Maybe his lame and thoughtless words the other day had gotten to her... Maybe this was her way of slowly reaching out to him!

"Sure," he told her. "But now the only problem is...neither of us has a car."

"So? We just walk."

Butch smiled suddenly, though she couldn't see it. "Of course."

And it continued on from there.

She sat down with him in the cafeteria again. They went to an actual movie theater once. And a few random nights a week, she suggested they go out to do something, whether it was a midnight snack or picking up a bottle of nail polish remover at the drugstore or messing around with sidewalk chalk on the virtually empty streets.

But he did note some changes.

It happened while they walked back from a trek to get this candy they hadn't had since they were kids.

Their hands were swinging casually side by side one moment, and the next he tried to grab hers.

She didn't grasp back. In fact, she waited a few moments before slipping out of his fingers.

He almost lost his footing and stared at her back while slowing down to a crawl himself. He even brought the hand in question up to look into the empty, open palm.

Did he miss something?

xoxo

It wasn't just that though.

She didn't come over to his house anymore. And she didn't bring him over to hers, either.

They only saw each other in school or hung out around town. There was no home base. Everything was out in the open – like she was afraid he'd turn into a creep and try to take advantage of her or something dramatic.

The idea kept chewing at him until he had to find out.

School had just let out and she was leading the way to this diner while talking it up.

"Why don't we just go back to my house and make sandwiches ourselves?" he asked harmlessly.

"Actually, I wanted the french fries and milkshake," she threw over her shoulder.

There was some more internal struggle before he stopped walking altogether. "What are we doing?"

Buttercup stopped as well and turned around.

"I mean, really: what are we doing? What happened? You've been acting so different since–" He cut himself off, but she still made a small wincing motion. "Look, I'm sorry." And he cautiously closed the gap that had grown between them. "But you had to know I'd ask. Are we still, uh, you know, seeing each other?"

Buttercup chuckled at his momentary discomfort, before berating herself. "I know, I know. If I were more grown up I would have said something about it by now instead of leaving you all confused."

There was silence.

"You're still here," she stated. "I just like that." She stared at him, seemingly unaware of herself and with eyes threatening to hypnotize him into saying or doing something stupid again. Then she shook her head, realizing her actions. "But, if you don't want to do this – hanging out and stuff – then it's fine."

Butch watched her face for a few moments, as she kept her expression indifferent. Finally, he leaned over and kissed her forehead quick. "No, I'm good. We'll just...take things slow."

xoxo

Which, at times, was easier said than done.

Butch rolled his eyes skyward in helpless prayer.

This situation? Right here? He wasn't even sure how it happened.

One minute he was trying to finish that lab for chem and the next she sent some vague message wondering what he was up to.

But he was now better versed in the language of Buttercup and knew she was probably feeling lonely and bored and wanted to see him, but hadn't found a reason for them both to leave their houses at ten thirty on this chilly night.

So after his homework was done, he grabbed a jacket and snuck out to head to her house. A twenty minute walk was nothing.

Open your window, his reply said.

He watched as she did so, looking around carefully.

When she spotted him – at first shocked – she smiled crookedly and shook her head at him. Then she leaned casually over the sill and asked in a loud whisper, "So now what?"

Butch looked offended. "You're not going to invite me up?"

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Sure. You remember the way." And she waved to the side of the house that was easiest to climb up and down.

Once his feet landed on her floor there was a moment of silence. He turned to close the window, threw off his jacket and shoes, and turned back to her with open arms. "Honey, I'm home!"

"Shh!" Buttercup jumped up from her bed while glancing at her bedroom door. "Oh, it's funny, huh?" she questioned as a grin spread across his face. "You know, you didn't have to come over. I was gonna go to bed anyway."

At that his expression dropped, because did he really make his way here to see her for no reason?

But when he refocused on her, she was lying on one side of the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "You wanna lie down?"

So that's what happened. And they didn't say a word about anything while both staring up at the walls. The silence wasn't as uncomfortable as he thought it'd be. And pretty soon after she drifted off. And he was feeling tired after that unnecessary walk to her house so he kind of fell asleep just a little bit too.

But then he woke up to find them curled toward each other with his hand strewn over her hip and hers holding loosely onto the front of his shirt and she smelled so nice and calming and how the heck was he supposed to get out of the bed and head home at–

Holy– It was past midnight!

She felt him moving around, the bed squirming along too.

"What?" she raised her head with blurry eyes in question.

"Well, princess, it's time to take my leave," he whispered with a grin while pecking her temple and turning to get out of bed.

"Bu–"

And they both glanced down to where her hand had the hem of his shirt in its grasp.

"I mean," she started, letting go abruptly and sitting up, "See you tomorrow."

He watched a moment as she stared at the opposite wall while messing with her hair, trying to smooth down anything out of place.

The bed bounced as he sat down and went about putting on his sneakers. But she didn't say anything else.

He took his time slipping on the jacket and hoping it'd keep him warm enough before he got to his own bedroom.

Still, nothing.

Before he started back the way he came, he asked, "You gonna be okay?" He even made the risky move of grabbing her hand as he stood at the side of the bed, waiting.

"Mm? Yeah, it's fine," she mumbled absent-mindedly, like she hadn't noticed his coming departure.

She felt him squeeze her hand and watched him walk backwards until it slipped out of his reach, then used the raised hand to wave goodbye with a hesitant smile.

Maybe he kind of wanted to stay, bad idea though it was. But she didn't give him any real indication she wanted it too. And he didn't want to overstep any boundaries – make her feel weird or think he was trying to rush her into anything.

They were supposed to be taking things slow now. Even if he'd been itching for kisses since the last time it happened, over a month ago now. She was lucky he wasn't the type to tackle a girl in her sleep.

Then again, he thought while walking across the grass and under the shadow of a tree.

He shook off the thoughts of stealing kisses while she was unconscious, because that was no way to get her to really open up to him. Making out didn't compare to...whenever the time came that she'd happily – without holding back – tell him about her latest test or complain about her sisters or–

...Or believe him when he told her his feelings, and maybe even reply.

Butch left without glancing back to see if she was watching him leave.

He could wait.

xoxo

"Dude. What are you doing?" a voice asked from his bedroom door.

Butch looked up to see one of his brothers staring in absolute horror-struck confusion.

"What?" he replied dumbly.

Had he forgotten to flush or something? Was there porn open on his computer and he didn't realize? Did someone find out what happened to that jar of peanut butter?

"Why hasn't Buttercup been around anymore? I thought you guys broke up or something, but then I see you still talking and walking together in school. What happened?"

The dark-haired teen frowned in irritation while turning back to the book he was trying to read for class.

Thanks, that's exactly what I wanna think about now, his thoughts relayed. Outwardly he didn't bother responding.

His brother gave a look and made a motion to show he was expecting something.

When he noticed this, he remarked, "What? You guys miss her hanging around or something?"

"She is better company than you sometimes." A shrug followed.

"Get out of here, Brick," he growled in annoyance. As the other turned to leave uncaringly, he shouted, "And for god's sake, knock, you prick!"

He was sure that throwing something would transform him into a teenage girl, and so resisted the urge.

That wasn't the only urge he was repressing lately. And it's not what everyone would assume.

Lately...he had been wondering what was going on with him and Buttercup.

The thing was, sometimes it seemed like they were just friends – hanging out, doing stupid things, random ventures. There hadn't been any real hand-holding or other romantic gestures since that one night. And that had been, he hated to remember, almost two months ago. They didn't repeat sneaking into each other's room or falling asleep in the same space again.

And as they spent more and more time together, getting to know each other and somehow becoming best friends, he found himself falling for her over small smiles and french fries and movies at the one theater that was never crowded. A smidge here, an inch there, an hour last week, two drumsticks* yesterday...

He liked her. A lot. Every time they saw each other or spoke or he thought about her just kept packing on feelings to this growing mound.

But did she even see him that way anymore? Was she still interested in him the way he was interested in her?

How long should he keep waiting for something to change? It wasn't an exact science. Would it really be worth it in the end? He didn't mean to sound cynical or be someone who gave up so easily – another guy just waiting to have his own needs met – but...this was taking its toll.

Maybe it was time to really get over her. Being friends was great, but not while he still had this massive crush on her that she didn't seem to be reciprocating or even acknowledging. It was just toying with his emotions, though she didn't mean to. He was only torturing himself.

And maybe it would be better to just be friends – she was a great and fun person to be with and talk to – but after he let go of these feelings.

It was hard not to lose hope. There was no hint or clue as to what she was feeling. He tried asking once, but her answers were vague. She never implied only wanting friendship but she also didn't broach the subject of romance. It was close to what she'd said that one time: that she liked being with him.

Sometimes it seemed like there was progress. A few times he noticed her watching him with some expression he couldn't place. She grabbed his hand to drag him along hurriedly to catch a movie on time or something. She even brought up these stories about when she and her sisters were kids the day he was reminiscing about his own childhood.

Hm, he contemplated over the words on the page to distract him.

xoxo

No date. (sometime two weeks after starting?)

*Drumsticks as in the ice cream from the Nestlé brand. Search online and you'll see what I mean. My personal favorite flavor is "Super Nugget". (I was just on the site =)

This story was first inspired by the song "Take Care" by Drake and Rihanna. The lines that stuck out were, "...pushing me away so I give her space, dealing with her heart that I didn't break, I'll be there for you, I will care for you..." And then a few lines down, "...when you're ready, just say you're ready...we'll change the pace and we'll just go slow..." And then from the second verse, "...can't deny that I want you...even though we both know that you do..."

I also had in mind the work of deviantart artist ujikin. You should check it out. I love this person's depiction of the PPG and RRB, as well as other things. The particular images that stuck with me were "drunken BC" and "understand me".

That's all I'll leave you with for now. Part two will be up in a couple days and be sure to read the End Notes next time too! Thanks for reading and tell me what you think. (And seriously, I have reread this thing over two dozen times. No lie. So if you find mistakes, please tell me! I hate when that happens – after all the work I put in there's still something wrong.)

1-17-13

5:07am