I feel like writing something (my exams start in 5 days. I am procrastinating)... it's mostly pretty silly, but I had fun doing it. My first attempt at writing Bubbles and Boomer together, and my first try of a Powerpuff girl and a Rowdyruff boy... not fighting.

She was in France for her last college semester. Well technically she was going in between France, Spain and Germany brushing up her skills on European languages. Last semester she had done the same thing in Asia, except with Chinese (Mandarin, not Cantonese) Japanese and Korean. She had to go home every other weekend, but that was the advantage of having super powers. She just flew where ever she needed to go without having to pay for and arrange flights.

It was by far her favourite cafe. Small, tucked away from large crowds (not that crowds bothered her it was just nice to be away from them). She had a usual order. White coffee, a small croissant and if she was feeling hungry, a slice of vegetarian quiche. Bubbles pulled out a sketch book, and small box of oil pastels (her sisters teased her for still using "crayons"). They were simple little doodles, the street outside, a couple of customers and the owners. The colours blended together in places mixing with a soft edge, oranges clashing with blues, sun-bleached whites and yellows mixed into greens and greying browns. The scene unfurled on the page. Her trance like state of observations going straight from her mind to the page remained uninterrupted. The coffee in front of her growing cooler remaining untouched in reality, but caressed and held eternally in wax on her page.

Content with her finished piece she closed the rough covered sketch book and closed up her box of pastels. A small smile graced her face before she finished her coffee and croissant. It was a hot day, slightly too cool coffee felt just right. She pushed her chair in, the metal legs scraped slightly against the stone flooring. The owner bid her a rather friendly goodbye as she left.

Midday was scorching. Sun would beat down relentlessly, flying was uncomfortable with all the latent heat. She was grateful for the gentle sea breeze swirling around her legs as she wandered the back streets. Narrow and medieval, string slung across the streets held laundry billowing and flapping lazily as the warmth left them dry. The smells of detergent wafted around, mixing with fresh baked bread and flowers in bloom. It was a sweet domestic mix. Reassuring and gentle. Radios played quietly, hiding the sounds of fans going 24/7 from those with less sensitive ears.

It was so quiet with everyone inside and escaping the heat, all the eyes on Bubbles were cats basking in the sun, or outstretched in the shade soaking in the heat. She shadows from the lines of clothing above her moved enticing her to follow them. They were asking her to dance with them. Never one to say no to a dance, she joined them.

Carefree and light she twisted in and around the flicking movements. Her white skirt swaying and twisting with her movements emphasising the playfulness of her single player game. Soft laughter echoed through the street, sweet and girlish as she came to a stop, the once clean converse had a layer of yellow dust. Some had caught on the end of her skirt. She didn't care, it would wash out.

The street lead her out to a main road, greyed tarmac lined by trees and on one side a stone wall covered with graffiti of ranging quality. Some of it was stunning- worthy of an art gallery in her opinion. A single blond haired boy stood with a can in his hand, caught up in his work. She watched him quietly from a distance so as not to disturb him.

Watching his work unfurl made her smile (yes, technically it was vandalism, but he was going over something that was really rather vulgar) and it was beautiful. His eye for colour was incredible, the way he faded reds and pinks blues to black and purple. She wasn't sure what he was doing- yet. He paused and changed can, this time a golden yellow. His movements fluid and relaxed. He was a natural. Colours switched again and again. It took shape and form. Like a dancer, each line making it more and more. He stopped for a moment-

Bubbles held her breath. Had he seen her... would he be annoyed... he turned towards her, but didn't look at her, the potted plant she ducked behind offered just enough cover. She knew him. It horrified her to see him here. Worse then any problem child, he had tried to kill her, beaten her up and she didn't want to look at him.

Boomer.

And yet- in the warm sunlight, and out of the context of fighting... He seemed... Well- relaxed, calm almost approachable. The look of confusion on his face turned to a smile. Not the smirk or smug smile her would throw her during their battles, a gentle one it mixed with a sense of pride. He looked at his work, his brow furrowed with concentration and with some faster then a regular human eye could follow he finished the image in seconds. The shadows the highlights it pulled together into a perfectly proportioned and coloured-

Bubbles felt a chill run through her spine.

It was her as she had danced through the streets earlier. Like he had taken a snapshot of her and preserved it somewhere everyone could see it. Made a public display of her small moment of happiness and carelessness she though she had without anyone looking at her. The eyes were a mirror image perfect match to hers, baby blue gleaming with innocence and hope. Her arms outreaching as if she was trying to grab the viewer and pull them in. the way the skirt looked like it was moving the folds bending in as if it was going to continue its twist at any moment.

She wasn't sure if she should be flattered- or worried. Past said be worried, ready to fight defend herself... But she believed in giving people second chances, a shot to be redeemed. Anyway- how could anyone create something like this from hate. It was possible he had just seen her from flying overheard, he didn't have to recognise her. The last time he would have seen her was nine years ago... she would have been 12-13. Something like that.

Part of her wanted to go talk to him. Before she could decide what she wanted to do he was gone. he probably flew off somewhere- he could be on the other side of the globe at this point. She didn't have to care, but a lot of her did anyway. It was wrong. Stupid. So he had done a nice picture of her. That meant nothing. He was a Rowdyruff Boy, they were designed for one reason, to destroy the Powerpuff girls. There was no reason Bubbles could think of to say that that purpose had changed.

She stole one last glance at the wall before leaving.

Boomer threw his bag down as soon as he arrived in his cheap motel room. He was pretty certain people lived in it- at 20 euros a week, who wouldn't. There was a sink, a bed cheap but comfortable, private shower and toilet and a T.V. with 6 channels. He was staying there for three weeks. It didn't count as living in it. It was just staying on a slightly more longer term basis then he would have liked. He pulled of his shirt and shorts, too warm from flying he had broken a sweat. it bothered him, made him feel unfit. A shower was called for. A long, cool shower.

Paint spattered his arms, his right hand in particular was covered in a layer of dried colour. So much blue. It was nice, relaxing the feeling of water rolling off his shoulders dripping down his arms wrapping around his hands. He turned his face to the stream- he was happy with his days work. The art school drop out/kicked out (he just couldn't pay the fees, or handle his lecturers) wished he could have more days as productive as today had been.

He liked her, the girl he watched dance in the street- she was contentment embodied, everything that made people smile, joy and laughter all rolled into one. His eyes shot open, pulled out of his daydream. He knew her- not while he was working but now. His muse of the day had been Bubbles. The powerpuff girl he was meant to- he was meant to hate her, seek her out and destroy her. Find and kill her. Be her worst nightmare.

He turned off the shower and wrapped the towel around his hips. He shook his head. No. It couldn't have been her. She wouldn't have- couldn't have inspired anything creative in him. No. He ran his hands through his dripping hair. His good day just became rather confusing. Mixed didn't cover his feelings- conflicted just mad him feel like he was being indecisive. No. He was a Rowdyruff boy. He didn't feel things. Maybe anger but none of those other girly emotions.

Great now he sounded like a child again.

Five days passed before Bubbles saw him again. She and a group of people from her class were visiting the beach. The weather was still scorching and bordering on unbearable. There was a beach- sand, soft sand, clean clear waters, waves that brought surfers from everywhere around the world. It was no tourist trap either, the car park was abysmal, the walk down to the shore just short of treacherous (luckily Bubbles was willing to carry some of her more nervous class mates down), but the group knew it was worth it.

Renting a some boards from the shop, the group took turns trying to surf but most fell into the sea. There were other surfers- clearly more experienced, they made it look like child's play. Casually standing, almost slouching on their boards. Some of the guys got jealous of the attention the girls were directing away from them, others were just as caught up staring. Naturally Bubbles tried to surf, her supernatural reflexes made it easy, balance came and she looked like she had done it before.

She threw herself into the water a few times to make her friends feel better, not to hide her powers. The water was nice- refreshing compared to the sticky sticky air. Leaving the group to swim for a bit, she went further out, diving under the waves, holding her breath she watched the fishes. The shoals and schools weaving in and out of each other sticking close to one another, moving like a single fish, breaking apart when Bubbles reached out to try and touch them. Their scales glittered reflecting and bouncing the sunlight around like a natural lights show.

Her lungs gave out and she surfaced carelessly knocking a surfer. Panic filled her as the board flipped and the guy on it splashed into the water. She dived under, reaching out towards the surfer. She almost let her breath out in shock. He looked at her with a similar look of disbelief. She drew her hand back and resurfaced. He followed her up, both were nervous.

"I'm sorry I didn't see you there."

She apologised, her expression was sheepish, he didn't doubt her sincerity. That was something he knew Bubbles was- always regardless of who you were bubbles was always sincere. An awkward silence feel between the two... At least they weren't openly being aggressive, yes he was mad but he didn't want to fight. No right now. It seemed like they were treading water for an eternity.

"So...Have you seen my board anywhere?"

She rose out of the water, droplets of water splashing into the ocean as it rolled slowly. He joined her mid air, looking for six foot 7 inches of white and blue. A frown crossed Boomer's face as he found the dented polyurethane. Flying down, and retrieving it, he was left open mouthed for a minute, Bubbles joined him, he could hear her apologising profusely. It seemed somewhat surreal that she was apologising to him- of all people he would have imagined he was the last person she was saying sorry to.

"... I guess if your brothers ask... you can say you hit me with it?"

He stifled his laugh, her head had left a perfect imprint on the nose of the board, the more he though about it the more it made him want to laugh. He wasn't mad about the board being damaged, it was stolen. She was smiling shyly at him. The glided towards the shore, landing on the sand he put the remains of the board on the ground. She sat cross legged in the sand and started to build a sand castle. He was grateful for the absence of his brothers, aside from the teasing he would get, there was no doubt in his mind that Bubbles would not be comfortable around all three of them. Was she comfortable?

"What brings you to France?" Boomer asked, genuinely curious,

"Final semester in College. I'm majoring in modern European and Asian languages,"

she said it like it was something anyone just did on a daily basis, hardly taking her eyes off the sand in front of her. He helped her, they dug a moat around the haphazard structure. As he thought they were done, she dashed off down the beach, before returning her hands full of shells and rocks. It may not have been the prettiest, symmetrical or structurally sound castle that Boomer had ever seen. Overloaded with a mish-mash of shells and rocks, it was unique and definitely a one off.

A loud grumble interrupted the moment of staring at their creation. Boomer blushed, Bubbles laughed. In that moment, Bubbles felt more like they were friends, rather then rivals-enemies opposites what ever word used to be used to describe them.

"Lets get pizza. I'm hungry too,"

she grabbed his arm not waiting to hear the answer she knew would come. Half dragged half walking, the the blue Rowdyruff fought back a blush, the on-lookers on the beach said it all. They totally thought they were a couple- a cute one. Maybe Bubbles was cute, but- Boomer of the feared Rowdyruff boys was-not-cute. not as a couple, not by himself and not when he was with Bubbles.

The shade and air conditioning of the beach bar brought a welcome relief. Making an order, one with every type of meat on the menu and the other vegetarian with no onions. They talked- simple small talk never exchanged between the two in their years knowing one another- well never exchanged in a non-mocking, happening in the middle of a fight way. The food was average, as in, bog-standard ordinary, with stringy cheese and a fairly generous toppings cooked just right not under or over done. It was what anyone would expect from ordering pizza.

Bubbles and Boomer returned to the beach, unsure of what they should do next- an awkwardness fell between them. At this point it was approximately two thirty. Bubbles' class mates were lounging around on the sand, too lazy to use the surf board that they had rented earlier. A small sallow skinned brunette walked over to them,

"(1.) Je m'appelle Danielle. qui êtes-vous mignon?"

"(2.)Boomer. il ne parle pas français. "

the French girl blushed and introduced herself to Boomer in accented English. She seemed.. friendly, before he had a chance to excuse himself for some random reason (he did not want to spend his day with a bunch language students), he was being introduced to everyone-

"Boomer- Bubbles' boyfriend."

Danielle grinned seeing Bubbles and Boomer blush. she was pretty quickly corrected by Bubbles (She later apologised for her friends behaviour). He felt awkward among the strangers- tried to remain polite. He found staying quite in the babbling group was the easiest option. Damit, he wanted to go surfing again.

A tap on the shoulder from one of the guys, and he was given a chance to escape. It wasn't as nice a board as the one he had been using previously, but it worked well, responded as it should. The waves were less interesting, more predictable then earlier. He enjoyed it nonetheless.

In the shade of an umbrella Bubbles watched him surfing- unlike the others earlier he was practised his stance was far more relaxed. She pulled out her sketch book, this time using pencils rather then oil pastels she began to mark the page. focusing on tone, she started light, nearly invisible. The strokes grew more confident, darker. It took shape fast. She smiled at her finished work, closing her sketch book. It was finally time to kick back and continue with her original plan.

The afternoon sun offered perfect napping conditions. Bubbles dozed every so often, not paying much attention to her friends conversation. Two were having a quiet argument over who were the best looking surfers, Boomer was coming in and around third or fourth. She wasn't sure how much time had passed in between that conversation and being tapped on the shoulder by one of the guys saying they were getting ready to go.a

"I'll catch up with you later. You guys go on ahead without me."

"You sure- we're in no hurry to go anywhere,"

"I'll be fine."

She sat up from her sleeping position, blinking her eyes to adjust to the lower sun. Boomer was still out surfing, if you could call, lying on the board out where the waves don't break surfing. she was waiting for him to come back in. (The board having been rented for the full day only needed to be returned to the shop.) To pass the time, she started drawing again. Shells, rocks-prints in the sand and the water. Small sketches to keep her sharp.

"Still here?"

she jumped, having zoned out of the real world and forgetting her purpose of staying behind. She turned the page of her sketch book over and pulled out the drawing she had done earlier.

"Here,"

her voice laced with humour, she gave him the page

" now we're even."

Boomer stared down at the image- it took him a while to get it. His face flushed red- but she was already gone. The drawing of him rested in his hand and he knew she knew he had painted her. More worryingly (at least to him), it seemed she was okay with it- maybe even flattered.

french translations for all you non french speakers thank you Google translate!

1-I'm Danielle, who is this cutie?

2- Boomer, he doesn't speak french

So my lovies, I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think. I really like Boomer and Bubbles as a pairing so I'm probably going to try and write more- I'd love to hear from you readers. Any how... Chat to you soon!