Chapter 12
[Only You]

Buttercup still seemed a little out of sorts, but Blossom did her best to keep her occupied. Her sister was probably embarrassed; she never handled this kind of stuff well. Admitting fault wasn't easy for her, which is something Blossom could relate to.

She had Buttercup peeling, rinsing, and chopping potatoes, but made a point to keep her in conversation or loom over her shoulder and tell her how to do things. She must've been pretty cowed, because she didn't even lash out at Blossom's meddling, unnecessary advice on how to cut a potato.

"So what have you been up to all day? Still cleaning your room?"

"Reading Consortium of Justice."

"Ha!" Bubbles laughed, snorting and sniffling despite her gaiety. She was cutting onions and blinking away tears. "I knew it. I bet you didn't clean anything."

"Well, I couldn't find any of my comics at first."

Blossom asked, "Is that the one series you're always all excited about?"

"Umm... Maybe?"

Professor finally came up the stairs, giving each of his daughters a quick squeeze and peck on the cheek, but then sitting at the table and keeping to himself. He looked exhausted, and content to watch them work.

"What do you mean, 'maybe?'" Blossom asked. "Which series was your favorite, then?"

"I don't know."

Bubbles dabbed moisture from her eyes and prodded, "You know, the one you're always rushing off to buy the first of the month."

"I don't know," Buttercup said, sounding weary. Her tone turned gruffer as she continued. "I can't remember! I can't remember a single stupid comic up there except for Spore."

"Oh, I remember Spore," Bubbles said. "You kind of dressed up like him once, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't remember Consortium at all."

Professor did finally speak up. "I wouldn't worry about it. You've been preoccupied—and I have to admit, I can hardly remember any of my favorite childhood stories any more. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

"And you've been rereading it like it was all new, huh?" Blossom asked.

Buttercup nodded.

"Well, I envy you. I was looking through my books the other day for something to re-read, but I remembered everything too well to want to bother."

"Hmph," Professor puffed. He stroked his chin in quiet contemplation.

The girls transferred everything to the pot to let the potato soup simmer for a while. Blossom did her best to hold Buttercup's attention by instructing her to broil some slices of bread in the oven with cheese on top. Again, she dutifully followed Blossom's instructions without protest.

Dinner passed peacefully, and while Bubbles and Blossom worked on putting away leftovers and cleaning dishes, Buttercup asked to be excused.

"Aw, going back to your room?" Bubbles asked. "You know, I'm gonna miss you if you never come out again."

Buttercup smiled. "Well, it's just that the Mangulator kidnapped the Spire's widow, and the Consortium thinks the Spire is actually responsible—"

"Wait," Blossom interrupted. "If she's his widow, wouldn't he be dead? Why would they suspect him?"

"It's...complicated. Anyway, I just have to see how it turns out. I promise we can keep hanging out. After all, why wouldn't I want to spend time with my favorite sister?" Buttercup hugged Blossom who, though surprised at first, returned the gesture warmly.

"Hey!" Bubbles protested, though she didn't actually seem offended. "No fair picking favorites."

Buttercup let go of Blossom and smirked at Bubbles. "Well, then how about you get to be...second favorite?"

"What? Isn't that the only other option?"

Buttercup walked closer, and Bubbles raised her arms for her expected hug. Instead, Buttercup stared tickling her. Bubbles retreated until her back was literally against the wall, breathlessly begging Buttercup to stop between peals of laughter.

Buttercup eventually stopped, putting her palms on Bubbles's cheeks and leaning in to kiss her nose.

She then turned her attention to Professor, narrowing her gaze dangerously. She raised and waggled her fingers threateningly as she slowly crept closer.

"Oh, no," Professor said tiredly, waving his hands in front of him. "I'm too stuffed to be tickled."

"Aw," Buttercup said, drooping. "Well, I'll get you later. When you least expect it—bam!" She pounded her fist against her palm with a loud "smack!" "I'll be there."

Professor regarded her with a confident, "come and try it" look, but said nothing.

"All right. See you in the morning."

"Not so fast, Buttercup," Professor said.

Buttercup sighed. "Exam time?"

"Exam time," he confirmed.

With a plaintive moan, Buttercup trudged off to the basement, Professor right behind her. Having aired her comic concerns in the kitchen, in the end she had nothing different to report after all.

Later that night, Blossom had donned her nightgown and was getting ready to crawl into bed. She heard some quiet thumping from upstairs, but that wasn't unusual. Just the downside of people living above.

It did remind her about Buttercup, however, and she wanted to check in on her. Maybe by now most of the sting of everything earlier today had lessened. Blossom saw an opportunity to salvage and nurture the renewed camaraderie that she and her sisters had been sharing. That kind of trust and fellowship surely had to make them a stronger team.

Besides, it was important to her. Blossom had decided lost memories of Ashley weren't really clouding her judgment. Buttercup was her sister, and now that they were together again, she didn't want to lose that.

"Come in," Buttercup's voice came in response to her knock.

Blossom opened the door a crack and poked her head inside.

"All the way in," Buttercup clarified, tossing her comic aside and sitting up in her bed. She patted the spot next to her.

Blossom smiled. Even after days of such behavior, Buttercup's little friendly gestures continued to warm her heart.

Blossom sat down next to her, just a short distance away. "I just wanted to come see how you were doing."

"Thanks. I've been feeling better. So what do you think about the stuff Professor said? Remember any of it yet?"

Blossom shook her head, disappointment painted on her face. "Nope. Not my glum attitude, not Ashley—nothing."

"Do you miss her anyway?"

Blossom was taken aback. It was a simple question on the surface, but... "I don't know. Part of me wonders if that's why... Well, if that's why I've been spending so much time with you and wanted to sleep over the other night. But, don't worry, I feel one hundred percent confident that I'm not mixing anything up."

Buttercup became the image of shyness, barely able to look Blossom in the eye. "So you... You really want to spend time with me, too?"

"Well, what do you think I've been doing these last few days?"

Buttercup shrugged.

"You're not embarrassed, are you?" Blossom asked wryly.

Buttercup had no trouble looking her in the eye now. In fact, she was glaring. "Embarrassed? Why?"

Blossom briefly cocked an eyebrow, thinking the answer obvious. "Well, we know how you are."

"Hmph. I know that's what everyone expects. Heck, that's what I expect. But I'm not. In fact, this all feels perfectly normal to me, so there."

"Well, nothing wrong with that. It's nice to see you so open and...well, cheerful. Not that anything was wrong before. I promise, I do and always will love the person you are—whichever side of the bed she happens to wake up on."

Buttercup's eyelids fluttered. She sniffled, and asked in a small voice, "You love me?"

"Oh," Blossom said. She could almost feel her heart melting. "Oh, Buttercup." She pulled her sister in with a hug. "Of course I love you. It goes without saying."

"I love you, too," Buttercup said. "I don't care if it goes without saying; I'm saying it."

Blossom laughed and withdrew from the embrace. She clasped Buttercup's hands in hers. "I guess even when it goes without saying, it's still nice to hear."

Blossom wasn't really sure how to follow that up. Before the silence grew too awkward, she started gently rubbing Buttercup's hands, still clasped under her own.

Her eyes were drawn to their hands, and Blossom watched herself extract one of Buttercup's and sandwiched it flat between hers. It felt warm.

Slowly, carefully, Blossom rubbed her fingers against Buttercup's. They were soft, but firm, and strong. Graceful and gentle. She slowly spread Buttercup's fingers apart and continued to run hers through them.

She felt as if she could lose herself. For a time, she did, her mind drifting and riding along the same as her fingers were. Her skin was so smooth, with no trace of the hardships they'd faced over the years. Blossom reveled in the thought of that smoothness. Wanted to feel it with something more sensitive than her fingers. Slowly, without thinking, she raised her sister's hand to her mouth, brushing it against the soft, outer edge of her lip.

Her eyes caught Buttercup's. Her sister seemed a mixture of confused and curious, watching Blossom like she didn't understand what was happening, but trusted Blossom to explain.

The glance was enough to bring Blossom back down to reality. She looked down at Buttercup's hand, then set it down on her sister's lap before letting go.

"Sorry." Blossom said. She had nothing else to say. Had no idea what else she could have said.

Her sister filled the silence. "That was weird." Blossom couldn't tell if it was a statement or a question. Whether she was offended or curious.

"Yes, it was," Blossom said. "It won't happen again. I don't know what came over me."

Buttercup shrugged. "Whatever. The important thing is we're together now."

Blossom blinked several times, beginning to struggle with dry, sleepy eyes. Maybe she'd just sort-of, kind-of dozed off for a moment? She smiled wearily. "Yeah," she breathed. "Together."

"I'd like to go to bed now," Buttercup said. It was, as much as such as thing was possible, a pure and simple statement of fact. There were no undertones that said, "beat it, I'm tired." No veiled, "you're creeping me out and I want you gone."

"Oh? Well, then I'd better let you get to it."

"Would you tuck me in?"

Blossom furrowed her brow and cocked an eyebrow. "What? Seriously?"

Buttercup just looked up at her with expectant eyes.

"Okay," she agreed, standing up and pulling back the covers. "I thought you didn't want me to play mommy."

Buttercup, already in her nightgown, immediately slid underneath the covers and lay flat on her back. "I don't mind."

Blossom smiled, lost in aimless thought as she worked her way around the bed, tucking the covers under the mattress as she went and setting the forgotten comic on a nightstand. Finished, she looked up to see Buttercup watching her with warm, soft eyes.

"Do you want the light off?" Blossom asked. With all of Buttercup's outlets gone, she had resorted to the ceiling light for her reading.

"Yes, please."

Blossom's smile grew warmer, but as she turned she felt a pang. Something deep, somewhere in her heart. A flash of loss, of grief and absence, of guilt. She wasn't sure what it was or why she felt it. But she didn't dwell on it, as it didn't last long. After all, what was there to mourn?

Unable to turn around, she flicked off the light and said, "Good night, sweetie."

"G'night," Buttercup's voice rang from the dark behind her.

Blossom slipped out, back downstairs, and into her own bed. After she turned off her own light, she was once again met with the "we are not ourselves" scrawled on her headboard.

Whatever. We are who we are, she thought back in silent protest.

Sleep came quickly, and more peacefully than any she could remember.