Natural Selection

Because years later, Boomer is still just a clever little boy. Unfortunately, in this case, cleverness isn't a very useful survival trait.

Boomer was sitting on her bed when she came out of the bathroom, his shoulders slumped in that perfect mixture of awkward child and bored teenager. He was fiddling with one of the stuffed toys piled against the pillows, but he dropped it quickly when he glanced up and caught the look on her face: it was a muted version of the look she gave baby animals and small children.

A moment of breathless silence passed between them in which they both realized she was wearing nothing but a towel. Bubbles felt herself begin to blush when his eyes darted down to where her hands were clutched tightly together over the spot where she'd tucked the towel into itself to hold it in place, but she beat the sensation back as viciously as possible. At this point, there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

"Who let you in?" she asked in a feeble attempt to divert his attention, hoping she didn't sound as winded as she felt.

Boomer gave up staring at the towel in the hopes that it would magically disappear, and shook his head. "Didn't use the front door," he replied, waving a hand at her. "I didn't wanna bother anyone."

She pursed her lips in thought and finally let go of the towel. Unfortunately, it held. "How'd you get in?"

Hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the window, he said, "Lock's broken." Bubbles paused in gathering her wet hair over one shoulder, frowning. "I broke it," he volunteered with the same tone he would have used to tell her it was raining.

Shaking her head in exasperation, Bubbles turned back into the bathroom and grabbed a wide-toothed comb off the vanity. Determined to continue with her bathing routine as though her heart weren't trying to break out of her ribcage, she studied herself in the mirror for a few moments, tilting her head this way and that, before running the comb through her hair. She started with the ends, all gathered in her opposite hand, and worked slowly up to the crown. The motions were soothing in their familiarity, but halfway through the process, which took all of about two minutes, she heard the bedsprings creak, and then Boomer was standing in the doorway watching her. He was leaning against the doorframe with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

"So I was thinking," he began, and she froze again, arms up around her head.

Meeting his eyes in the mirror, she couldn't help noticing that he was trying not to smile. She could see it in the way he kept stopping to bite the inside of his lower lip. "Oh?" she prompted gently, smiling at him as she went back to her task.

"Yeah," he went on. "About orangutans-"

"Oh no," she groaned, dropping her arms and shooting him an amused, if somewhat sour look. "Are we still doing this?"

Now he was grinning at her. "Absolutely. For as long as it takes. You know, if all those loggers and miners keep destroying their habitats-"

"Do you even know where they live?" she interrupted gently, turning to look back at him over her shoulder, smiling expectantly when he didn't reply immediately

Glancing down at the towel again, Boomer pursed his lips in thought and answered, "China?"

Her smile slipped, and when it returned it brought with it a pair of raised eyebrows and a new angle to the tilt of her chin.

He snorted, and reached out to grab her around the waist, pulling her backwards against his chest. She let him guide her into his embrace, and didn't protest when he wrapped his arms around her, but the smile had morphed into a disparaging frown.

"I don't think the orangutans appreciate you making light of their predicament," she informed him tartly, lifting her chin as she spoke. "And I hope you don't expect me-"

"They're from Borneo!" he broke in, laughing. "In Indonesia!"

The frown stayed firmly in place, but Bubbles turned in his arms to stare up at him. It was harder to joke when he wasn't looking at her reflection: she had the biggest, bluest eyes he'd ever seen – and he had to look at himself in the mirror every morning.

Taking a few moments to clear his throat as theatrically as possible, he continued with a very self-satisfied smile, "They're native to Borneo and Sumatra. Leading causes of depopulation are deforestation – for logging, farming, and palm oil harvesting – mining, and group fragmentation from road construction."

Another of those painfully silent moments overtook them, and Bubbles couldn't decide if she wanted to pinch Boomer's cheek - which would not be received well - or kiss him - which would be welcomed with open arms, but, she was certain, would lead to something she absolutely could not believe she was thinking about doing with her father and sisters in the house.

She settled for laying her hands against his chest, saying, "Someone's read last month's issue of Discover Magazine. I was wondering where my copy went."

"Hell yes I read it!" he exclaimed, his arms tightening around her. "After risking life and limb by bringing it into the house? I had to read it cover to cover just to justify taking the chance! Do you have any idea what Brick would do to me if he knew I was reading something so... green?"

The urge to pinch his cheek was almost overwhelming. "That's so sweet," she cooed, standing on tiptoe to take his face in both her hands and kiss him chastely on the mouth. "I didn't think you cared."

"About the orangutans?" He couldn't keep the grimace off his face. "Not really, but I fig-"

"Boomer," she said gently, covering his mouth with a hand to keep him silent. "For once in your life, shut up. Just shut up, and let me keep my fantasy."

She could have imagined his eyes widening, but he nodded, and when she removed her hand, he muttered, "Hurray for trees!" before lifting her off her feet and kissing her.

She made the most delicious little noises. They rolled out of the back of her throat, down her tongue and into his mouth, until she was absolutely everything he could taste and touch. Somehow, Bubbles had gotten one of her hands between them, and she was running her hand across his stomach, beneath his shirt, nails scratching lightly against his skin. She wasn't shy anymore, though she had been – they both had been, if Boomer was honest with himself, but he'd die before he admitted it out loud, and he'd wanted her badly enough to conquer any fears he'd ever had about faltering. Her towel was starting to slip.

Then her feet found the floor again, and the hand lying against his stomach was grabbing his sweater and tugging him back into her bedroom. She giggled when they both tripped on the edge of the carpet, and pulled him down on top of her when she finally managed to find her bed with the backs of her knees. She had her legs around him before they hit the mattress.

"I thought we couldn't mess around when the rest of the A Team was home," he teased, his voice a low murmur from the vicinity of her collarbone as he began to push the towel aside. She stilled beneath him, and tilted her head down to gaze at him, her look a mixture of frustration and disbelief. She opened her mouth to make a reply, but he beat her to it. "Yeah, I know," he sighed. "Shut up, Boomer. Shutting up."

"Good call," she breathed, and then had to bite back a gasp as his fingertips danced up her bare side. He couldn't go twenty-four hours without reminding her how ticklish she was. Bubbles could feel him grinning against her shoulder.

She'd learned quickly that the best way to make Boomer behave was to distract him, so she threaded her fingers through his hair, pulled him up into a kiss, and pressed herself as close to him as she possibly could when he was still clothed. She started tugging at his sweater, and he sat back to pull both it and his t-shirt over his head.

He had one arm out of the sleeves when someone knocked on the bedroom door hard enough to rattle the windows. "Come on!" Buttercup called from the other side, and they both froze. "We've been waiting on you for half an hour! Half an hour! Blossom beat you out of the shower by a whole thirty minutes! What are you doing in there?!"

By that time Bubbles had pushed Boomer off, shoved him into the bathroom, and wrapped herself back into her towel. She cracked the door just enough to peek out, saying, "I just have to throw something on and I'll be right down," in as placating a tone as she could muster, and then shut the door before she heard her sister's reply. She stood with her back pressed against the door for a few long moments, listening as Buttercup stomped down the stairs before finally breathing a sigh of relief.

When she pulled Boomer out of the bathroom, he had the lost, blank look of one suffering from shell-shock. "Buttercup screaming through the door is the absolute last thing I ever want to hear when we're getting down to it," he said finally, staring blankly at the wall. "I don't think John Utonium could possibly up the ick-factor. "

"And that," Bubbles responded, already beginning to sift through the mess in her closet, "is exactly why we shouldn't mess around when my family's home."

Boomer bit the inside of his cheek, before finally saying, "You know, maybe we could just-"

"No."