One-shot drabbles because I'm on a powerpuff kick and have no idea how long it'll last. If there's something that sticks, I might try to expand it.

Standard disclaimer, etc. etc.

Comme il faut:

"We're under the sheets and you're killing me" – Ellie Goulding

It would have been to no one's surprise how she had turned it into a competition and that he, provoked, had risen to meet her challenge with fervor. Every moment together was a battle for dominance with no clear victor in sight.

"Blossom," he groaned at the sensation of her fingers digging into his back. Like many times before, her name had escaped before he could stop himself and he could sense the smirk that would soon grace her pretty little face. She shuddered at the sound of his hoarse voice and, with the corner of her mouth now upturned, teasingly traced his jawline with her lips before meeting his.

"Tonight is my win," she cheekily whispered between labored breaths.

But nothing was ever quite that simple. It had already been five hours since the redhead beside him had drifted to sleep, five hours before he'd woken up, and five hours too many to have allowed her success. Gritting his teeth, he arose from the couch, careful not to disturb her, and slipped the red hoodie over his head. As soon a he felt sufficiently tidied, which, for what the situation necessitated and for even less, a Rowdyruff, wasn't much, he made his way to the nearest exit but not without pausing to spare a glance at "his" girl. Pushing his favorite cap onto his head and turning it backwards, he silently shut the door behind him and was off in a brilliant streak of red light. Every punch, every insult, anything she threw at him, Brick had always made it a point to answer.

The next time they met, he had crept up behind her in the empty office before she'd realized. "Miss me babe?" She nearly jumped into the air, her knees knocking the wooden desk she stood in front of. For all her claims of apathy, she was probably still too proper to have been unaffected by waking up alone, left to clean up their mess before anyone caught on. Even after half a dozen times, it never got old.

Whipping around, she shoved his shoulder with a little too much force and he stumbled backward. Upon taking a good look at her face, expression momentarily blank, he broke into a half-grin.

"I'm hurt." Her prompt, light-hearted response was accompanied by an exaggerated gesture at her heart. He would've been convinced were it not for his now sore shoulder. +1 for Brick. He was delighted at her reaction.

Drawing near once more, his arms reached out to the either side of the desk and she was quickly pinned to the table. "Sorry Peaches," he chimed.

Her eyes narrowed. "You idiot, how could you have left like that? You could've woken me up. What if somebody had seen?" she hissed at him. (It was an excuse but a half-valid one; the Professor and girls arrived not long after she had straightened the living room up. Had they gotten there any sooner, suspicions would undoubtedly be raised.)

Mouth agape, he stared at her incredulously. She reached out, about to shove him again, before he firmly grasped her wrist and pulled her close to him. Gradually applying a little more pressure on the arm he held, he sneered. "What are you so upset for B? Tough girl can't handle it? Did you get in too deep?" She winced.

He roughly released her hand and she stumbled back into the desk, rubbing at the traces of his calloused fingers around her wrist. "Well aren't you a catch?" she spat, derision dripping from her voice.

He pulled off the red cap to run his fingers through his auburn hair. Winking, he let out a low, rumbling chuckle. "Baby, you know it. Dunno if I could say the same about you though."

Placing her hands on his chest, she fluttered her lashes up at his vermilion orbs, "As if I'd be doing any of this if I was a bore." Her fingers slowly moved up his wrinkled shirt and she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Tough…pretty…smart…I'm a package deal." His breath hitched. Admittedly, they had originally come together for the thrill of it. This fling had no room for feelings but both of them had flirted dangerously with the idea of losing on occasion.

In a flash, she had him dangling by the collar of his shirt, knuckles white, daring him to say otherwise.

An amused glint sparkled in his eyes. "Yep," he drew out the popping of the p. "S'why I'm crazy about you," he drawled, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head. She released him.

The instant she looked away, he saw an opening and picked her up, hoisting her onto the table. He gingerly took her soft hands in his and opened his mouth to speak.

Looking up at him, she seemed to have recognized the way his brows were furrowed and her face was then stricken with panic. Cutting him off before he could utter a sound, she let out a half-forced laugh at the absurdity of their relationship, "Can't say the same about you."

She whispered into his ear and he visibly stiffened, his eyes darkening.

Her brow rose in response. "What? Did I hurt your feelings Brick?" she scoffed in jest. Relief clearly swept over her features to see his temper flare up in familiar ways.

He composed himself immediately and leered at her. Without missing a beat, he leaned in to brush her lips with his. "Don't be ridiculous," he replied coolly, his right hand now snaking its way up her smooth, long legs.

"Blossom." Her name arose from him in hushed tones. Now her turn to share a moment of weakness, her milky skin flushed a rosy shade of pink. His imagination took over and he sharply inhaled, the distinct scent of strawberries reminding him of who she was, who he was, and just what the fuck were they doing there anyway?

"I'm not out to get my heart broken," he devilishly breathed against her soft and orderly copper locks, a smirk making its way onto his face. "I'm just here to break a sweat."

A/N: As you can probably tell, I'm pretty partial to the reds (not to say that other pairings don't have their merits/fun parts). I just like the idea of an interplay of unrelenting arrogance and pride in their rivalry, expecting the best from each other and not giving in nor letting the other fall for as long as they can, feelings be damned.

I won't deny this is fucking awful stuff (mostly because I like to imply a lot of things) but thanks for reading anyway!