Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me! No lawsuits please!
Author's Note: It's been awhile since I've written a Blossom/Brick fanfiction, but I've had the urge to write something sweet about them. So, it's not the usual sexual tension encounter, but something much softer. I hope you all enjoy it!
Who needs true love as long as you love me truly? ●~ ● Natalia Kills
A comfortable, tranquil silence had fallen upon them, the two sitting together underneath the shadow of a tall oak tree in the vacant Townsville Park, and were pleased they had time, even though there was so little of it, to waste with each other on such a peaceful morning. The couple had skipped their third period classes, to escape from their make-believe games of disdain and dislike of one another, to simply be as they wanted to be for an hour. Only an hour. Then, they would have to return to their separate lives, exchanging witty insults in a cloud of smoke while a peculiar kind of fire blazed right under their skin.
Brick Jojo grinned to himself, counting his secret girlfriend's steady sighs, and quietly mused how her simple breathing could make feel quite content—serene. When he was with Blossom, out of eyes expecting him to partake in a meaningless crime, he wasn't a Rowdyruff Boy, he wasn't some juvenile delinquent nobody had time for, he was Pokey Oak High School's infamous bad boy that simple-minded girls swooned over; with Blossom, he was just a regular guy, a boy, and she was just a girl, in love. They didn't have to enemies all the time, not in the late hours of the morning when everyone else was at school or work. As long as they stayed hidden in the shadows, their secret remained safe.
Resting the back of his head against the tree, his velvet-red eyes gazed skyward, passed the dark branches and the leaves, and decided to finally disturb the silence. "A penny for your thoughts?"
"Hmm?" Blossom hummed, sounding a little startled, as though she had come out of a daze. "What?"
"What are you thinking about?" Brick inquired.
"You," Blossom began slowly, chewing anxiously on her lower lip in delicate thought, "and I." She extended her arm backward to Brick's side of the tree, the opposite side, and rested her soft fingertips on his knuckles. "Us."
Just then, a savory breeze whisked through the air and caught in the pink Powerpuff Girl's auburn locks. Brick inhaled at the very same moment, the fragrance of Blossom's sweet pomegranate shampoo soaking through his nostrils and deep into the crevices of his brain; his heart could sense the scent, too, and he was comforted by it. Whatever he had been contemplating before was forgotten; his mind cleared. "Us?" Brick repeated in query.
"Mm-hmm," Blossom nodded, gently stroking her freshly clipped fingernails over the back of Brick's hand. "What we have—is this true love?"
At first, Blossom's question didn't register. Brick was lost in the tender, tickling sensation on his hand, the way Blossom's sharp nails swept back and forth on his rough skin—the way he forced his shoulders and spine from rattling in pure bliss. The feeling was far too relaxing, and it was a conundrum just to think straight. . . What did she say?
What they had. Was it true love?
The words finally caught up to his ears, then idly whirled around in his brain.
What was true love? He was a Rowdyruff Boy, and was created for the sole purpose of hate, destruction, and all the brute force that comes with the title. Brick was barely supposed to know about love.
The whole idea seemed a little too far-fetched. The entire concept was a colossal fairy tale that parents recited to their naïve children just before bed, where a charming prince would wake a fair maiden from her poison-induced induced slumber, with true love's kiss. It wasn't likely that Brick would take purchase in a silly, girlish fantasy. True love was something for soul mates, and soul mates was another sentiment for Brick to be skeptical over. People in the real world didn't fall in love at first sight, their eyes locking across a crowded room. Two souls couldn't be connected, or infused, not when those souls could be continents apart, not when there were more fish in the sea, but. . .
"I think what we have is rare."
Brick and Blossom did love each other. Of that, he was a hundred percent certain. Loving her was something that he never planned for; who could have predicted such a frivolous, random occurrence? He was the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys and she was the leader of the Powerpuff Girls, and there was always an unspoken boundary that neither had thought they would ever defy, or even want to defy. All the same, there was an inexplicable compulsion they felt toward one another.
It first happened a few months ago when the soon-to-be lovebirds were bickering in class over a dumb school project. Arguing wasn't exactly out of the ordinary for them, yet an odd feeling bubbled in his stomach. Initially, Brick thought to himself that he was perhaps coming down with the flu, but it was much worse than that—much better. After that original encounter with the funny feeling, more funny feelings arose, more thoughts attacked his mind; Blossom was the only person he knew that could dish out clever insults right back at him, and he liked that about her. He liked Blossom; it was just a childish crush. That crush, the nonsensical infatuation, grew—changed. Brick had become more aware of his heart at the time they spent together, how it pounded when she simply glanced at him, and he was dismayed Mojo Jojo had thought to create him with such a pesky organ, as he became all the more eager to be in Blossom's company.
There must have been something to this whole love thing, after all; there must have been something undeniable that made Brick's heart leap giddily whenever Blossom was around.
"I don't know if I'll ever get why I love you so much," he confessed, withdrawing his hand from underneath hers. His legs grew tired of staying still on the ground for so long. Brick stood up from the grass, holding a branch above his head, and swung over to Blossom's side of the tree. His scarlet irises fixated down at Blossom, when she automatically glanced up and his heart could have combusted right then from how happy she made him.
A blush burned into both of her cheeks at the sight of his lopsided grin. "It's a puzzle," she replied teasingly.
"Blossom. . . It's anyone's guess if this is true love, but I know I won't get a lot of chances to feel that way about anyone the way I feel about you." Brick released the branch and leaned over his counterpart, pressing a hand onto the bark. "Understand?"
"I think so," she answered smoothly, quirking an amused eyebrow.
She slid up the trunk in a nonchalant effort, raising herself to stand up as well. Their faces were mere centimeters from each others. Blossom exhaled a breath in anticipation. Her lemonade-pink eyes landed on the red Rowdyruff's flirtatious simper. Brick could practically see the cogs in Blossom's mind churning, calculating the moment when he would sate the electric tinge in their mouths. He wouldn't, unless she asked.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" Brick questioned knowingly. He tucked an index finger under her chin, and teasingly nipped at the cute dimple on her right cheek.
"You know what I want, Brick."
"Do I? I don't think so."
"Kiss me, you hell-raising scumbag," Blossom giggled, shaking her head in small movements.
"Whatever you say, Powderpuff." Chuckling lightly, Brick hungrily molded his mouth to Blossom's, capturing her strawberry lips in a feverish kiss. The red flames ignited—breathed a passion in the pair of teenagers, a passion that shouldn't have existed, but existed all the same. Blossom whimpered, the sound oh-so delicious, as she wrapped her slender arms around Brick's shoulders to rope him in further, closer to her mouth.
Perhaps Blossom and Brick's story wasn't one of true love, but against all odds, they loved—love each other, and that rarity would last in their hearts until their dying breaths.