Last one y'all. Thanks for making it this far!
Chapter 19: Beyond This Morning
"The City of Townsville," Benny Santiago spoke confidently into the camera as millions tuned in for the special broadcast report that had captured the nation's collective shock and sympathy, "is standing in solidarity with her sister city, Citiesville, in the wake of a terrible tragedy thwarted by none other than our own beloved Superheroines, the Powerpuff Girls."
Behind Benny, the camera panned to footage of Dinah's secret, subterranean lab cordoned off by police do-not-cross tape as law enforcement officials filed in and out collecting evidence. The fire trucks and ambulances from the previous night had long since departed, and a crowd of gawkers had gathered in these early morning hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of the villains who had perpetuated evil right here in their backyard.
"We here at the Townsville Chronicle were among the first on the scene reporting to you live. For those of you just tuning in, I'm happy to report that the eight survivors of Dinah Swathe's illegal experimentation have all received the proper treatment and are currently recovering without any complications—oh!" Benny ran off screen, and the camera shakily followed him. "Detective! Do you have a moment for our viewers?"
Buttercup pulled her hair into a messy bun as she paused to let Benny catch up with her. Her blouse and pants were torn and dirty from her harrowing fight to the bottom of the underground lab; she hadn't left the scene even to clean up as she worked to ensure every survivor made it out and every collaborator was properly detained and arrested.
"Hi Benny, sure," she said.
"What can you tell us about Dinah Swathe? Has she been arrested?" Benny asked.
Buttercup looked grimly at the camera. "Dinah Swathe is dead. She turned herself into a rabid monster, and my sister had no choice but to put an end to her."
"But why would she do such a thing?"
"Because she knew she was done for and she didn't want to surrender. But that's not the story here."
"Then what is?"
"Over the last several months, people have been disappearing without a trace, plucked right off the streets of Citiesville. It wasn't until Citiesville Community College Freshman Danny Chang was taken that the CPD finally got involved, and by then it was way too late."
Benny gestured to his camerawoman to focus the shot on Buttercup.
"Johnny Tran, Mickey Dahl, Scottie Moreno, Tina Williams," Buttercup recited. "The list of Dinah Swathe's victims goes on and on. Every day, society's most vulnerable face unbelievable risk to their health and safety, but a lot of it flies under the radar because they don't all look like a fresh-faced college student deserving of our sympathy. This," Buttercup gestured at the blocked off lab crawling with police behind her, "happened because Dinah Swathe and others like her know that. They exploit that. We as a community need to be more vigilant. We need to pay attention to our at-risk youth, to our homeless, to our downtrodden and down-on-their luck. They deserve our sympathy and our help as much as anyone. Report on that."
The camera swiveled back to a flustered Benny, and Buttercup stalked off to help her colleagues. "Well, folks, there you have it. Dinah Swathe is officially no more, but her victims will be seeking restitution. We'll be following the legal proceedings against Dinah Swathe's estate and those who aided and abetted her illegal experiments. Stay tuned. Until then, we're talking a silent break to air the names of those who perished under her charge in memoriam. Say their names. Remember their lives. Our community mourns their loss together."
Benny bowed his head, and the camera feed cut to black. The names of those who had fallen victim to Dinah's malevolence appeared on the screen in simple, white letters, and there they remained seared into the television screens of households across the country, all in silence.
Brick's consciousness woke before his body did, and for a short eternity he lay unmoving with only his nose to paint a picture of his surroundings. It didn't smell like much of anything. Clean perhaps, and warm. A soft, clinical beeping ticked away like heartbeats, and a more muted rhythm beneath it belied an actual heartbeat. His Super hearing was back, which meant he'd survived, but in what shape?
Opening his eyes was a herculean effort that left him gasping for breath. Slowly, the sleep paralysis faded from his muscles, and he looked around. The lab he was in was unfamiliar. Stark white ceilings and looming, steel skeletons watched over him, powered down. There were no PA announcements, no shuffling scrubs, no dividing curtains. He was alone here, save for the pulsing heart at his side.
Blossom had fallen asleep in her chair. Her hair flowed in a bloody river over the bleached blanket of Brick's cot, where she lay on her folded arms. The sight twisted something in his chest as he recalled another boiling river of fire and blood they had narrowly escaped. How long ago had that been, he wondered? The last thing he remembered was her arms around him, lifting him, and his name in her voice so far away, so afraid.
Brick plunged his fingers into the depths of her hair and sighed smoke. Tears stung his eyes, but they evaporated before they could dare to fall. He was alive and powered. She had saved him, and now…
Now what?
"Brick."
Her voice was so soft, he almost didn't hear her. Blossom watched him, her rosy eyes wide awake, though she hadn't moved an inch. Brick tightened his grip on her hair.
"Blossom," he said, just as soft.
The moment hung between them as neither of them dared to move, dared to breathe. An entire universe slowed, galaxies spinning fire and dust, as fragile as new snow. Even now, especially now, she was everything.
"You saved me," he said.
"You're worth saving."
It was not often Brick found himself at a total loss for words, but all he could do was stare at her now and wonder what he had done in a past life to deserve her faith, because he'd done little for it in this one. But maybe he still had time.
"I don't think I am," he confessed, "but I'd like to be."
She sat up and entwined her fingers in his. "Okay."
He tightened his grip on her and bade her hear the words he didn't have the courage or the right to say to her, not yet. "Okay."
At length, she changed the subject. "You're in the Professor's lab. You'll have to remain here until the X drip runs out. Mojo's orders."
Brick blinked. "Mojo?"
"You were dying," she murmured, contrite. "I had no choice but to take you to him."
And if she hadn't, he may not be here now. The thought remained unspoken, but its heavy truth sank through his bones like fangs.
"He dropped everything to help you," Blossom said. "He barely even said a word, just sewed you back up and asked us to bring you here after to recover. I think he didn't want you to wake up in the Observatory."
Brick's stomach clenched. "Us?"
"Boomer was with me," Blossom said. "He stayed with us that whole night until I ordered him to bed. That was three days ago."
Three days lost. Brick supposed it was a small price to pay for his life.
"Brisa, did they find her?" he asked.
Blossom nodded. "Butch and Buttercup got her out. Everyone made it out safely."
"And Princess?"
"She sent you a care package. It's an industrial-grade fire extinguisher."
Brick cracked a smile. "What an asshole."
She bit back her own smile. "She saved my life, you know. Before I found you."
"She has her redeeming qualities."
Blossom laughed. "She does."
Her laugh was so strangely beautiful in this bleached laboratory surrounded by a dead man's dreams that Brick lost his nerve entirely. He settled for honesty. "Blossom, I'm sorry."
Her smile settled into something more thoughtful as she watched him. "I know you are. But I'm not the one you need to apologize to now."
Boomer had looked at him like he didn't even recognize him anymore when he fled with a burned and battered Butch. Even now, their silence haunted him. Brick leaned back against the pillows propping him up and grimaced, too weary and too ashamed to hide anything from her anymore. "I really fucked up this time."
"You did," she said.
Brick sucked in a shaky breath. The lab's walls stretched up forever on all sides, or maybe he was sinking. His fingers remained firmly anchored in Blossom's hair, and he dared not look inward at the silky shadows that wallowed and waited in his dark depths should he sink deeper. "I can't lose them."
Blossom's gaze was firm but full of emotion as she watched him, and she knew. Of all people, she knew. "You might, for a little while. But you owe them that time to heal and forgive."
Her words tolled with the truth of experience, and he resigned himself to a very difficult conversation ahead. How long would it take for his brothers to forgive him? At least as long as it would take him to change. The very prospect tempted him to darkness, an easy out. But then, he would be a coward who lost them for good. He'd lose her too.
Brick was no coward.
Blossom rose from her chair and carded her fingers through his hair. Her kiss was cool on his flushed forehead, and it took all his strength not to reach for her and pull her closer, to keep her. Don't go, he may have said. Don't ever go.
"Blossom," he said instead, his voice as raw as the stitched hole in his belly. "Thank you."
Her hair slipped from his fingers as she righted herself. She fiddled with a knob on the IV feeding him Chemical X. "I'll be here with you. Rest until the X drip is drained."
A surge of X flooded his veins as she opened up the drip, and his vision bloomed in a phantasmagoria of color and flow. Blossom was a bright, pink beacon in a sea of undulating shadows fast closing in.
Brick blacked out and fell into an abyssal, dreamless sleep.
Princess gave Brick a ride back to his apartment once he was recovered enough to leave the Utonium Laboratory.
"Nice to see you not dying for a change," Princess said as they pulled into Citiesville midmorning traffic.
"I second that," Antony said from the driver's seat. "You gave us quite a scare."
"Yeah," Brick said, because there was nothing else to say.
Princess sat back in her seat next to him and crossed her arms. "You better not almost die again. Ever. I forbid it."
"Noted."
An uneasy silence settled between them. Antony played soft music on the radio and did his best to give them privacy as he focused on the road ahead. Brick pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth. His seatbelt was too tight. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.
"Princess, I'm—" he began.
"Look, what happened—" she said at the same time.
They both shut up and looked at each other a moment until Princess waved him off. "You first."
Brick was about to refute her, but decided he better not. If he couldn't get through this with her, there was no chance he'd get through it with his brothers. "I was going to apologize for yelling at you during the Tentacle Monster fight." He averted his gaze and stared at the headrest of the seat in front of him. "I was out of line."
"Yeah, you were," Princess said, her tone clipped.
"I'm sorry."
"You should be."
"Well, I am, okay?" He took a deep breath and swallowed the faint taste of smoke in his throat. "I should never have spoken to you like that. You're my best friend, not gum under my shoe."
Her hand found his. "I almost died. You were angry and afraid. I get it."
Tentative, he squeezed her hand back. "Still."
"Well," Princess said softly, "call it even then. We're two for two."
Brick let out the breath he'd been holding and wiped his mouth.
"Are you okay? You look like you just saw someone wearing white after Labor Day," she said.
Brick was too shaken even to crack a smile. "Yeah, no. I'm just…" Princess was looking right at him, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out one good reason not to be honest with her. "I have to talk to my brothers today."
She nodded. "And you're worried they won't forgive you for being such a dick."
Brick narrowed his eyes. "I mean, yeah."
"Hey, don't get mad at me. Blossom told me what happened. You really shit the bed this time."
"I got that."
She pulled his hand onto her lap and held him there. "You're afraid."
"Yes, okay? I'm afraid. I'm fucking terrified."
Antony cast them a glance in the rearview mirror, but he said nothing.
"Well, I forgave you," Princess said.
Brick frowned at her. "Yeah…"
"And Blossom forgave you."
"That's completely different. The shit with my brothers is years of blood and mistakes."
"I know that," Princess said, quiet but firm. "I was right there with you."
Brick searched her stolid gaze. "I know you were."
"My point is, I know what a royal diva you can be, but I still put up with you. And Blossom is basically the dictionary definition of a good person. If she decided you're worth a second chance, then your brothers will too."
Tired and weary, Brick clung to her hand now like he had all those years ago when hers was the only one offering. He sucked in a shaky breath. "What if they don't?" he said in a small voice.
"Then you give them time. Space. Whatever they need. But listen to me, Brick." Princess waited until he was looking at her. "You're not the big, bad bitch you try so hard to make everyone believe you are. Very few people are."
Brick thought of Mojo. He hadn't heard a peep from the old monkey, not even since Blossom had revealed that Mojo had played an integral role in saving his life. Why had he done it? And why hadn't he reached out to collect on the debt yet? Mojo didn't do anything out of the goodness of his heart. There was always a quid pro quo. Brick had learned that lesson young, and it had served him well over the years. Until now.
"They're your brothers," Princess continued. "They love you, and they know you love them. Give them a little credit."
Brick nodded, not trusting his voice anymore.
A low sniffling reached them from the front seat. In the rearview mirror, Antony wept quietly.
"Oh my god, pull yourself together," Princess said.
Antony sniffled louder and reached for a tissue to blow his nose. "I'm sorry, that was just so beautifully said!"
"Jesus Christ."
"Brick, I'm sure your brothers will forgive you! Everything's going to be okay!" Antony blubbered like a beached whale.
Brick groaned and lay back in his seat, wishing the car would blow up and put him out of his misery.
Boomer met Butch at B-3, and together they headed to Brick's apartment at his request. It had been four days now since the incident at Dinah Swathe's secret lab, and Boomer had barely slept since. Between following Blossom to Mojo's thinking this might be the last time he would ever see Brick alive to the multiple police interviews about what had happened, Boomer was exhausted. Hashing it out with Brick right now sounded about as appealing as chewing glass.
"Listen, I'm fucking pissed at him too," Butch said. "But we deserve an apology. You especially. I'm not letting that fucker off without one."
"So you go," Boomer said.
Butch wouldn't take no for an answer, and the only thing worse than facing Brick was fighting Butch. So, haggard and heart-hurt, he walked with Butch the several blocks to Brick's apartment building.
Everything was the same as it always was, except cleaner. There were no more brown vomit stains on the rug or broken glass from Brick's Halloween night tantrum. The apartment was as cold and impersonal as a tomb. Brick was a bright splash of red and nerves when he opened the door to admit his brothers.
"Thanks for coming," he muttered.
"Sure." Butch kicked off his boots and left them strewn in the foyer.
Boomer said nothing as he slid out of his Converse and headed for the living room.
"You want anything to eat or drink?" Brick asked.
"No," Butch said.
"Boomer?"
Boomer ignored him as he stared blankly at the overstuffed bookshelf. There were books in languages Boomer couldn't read on every subject under the sun. Where Brick found the time to read them all, he had no clue. But he knew Brick had read every single one. His blue eyes fell upon a framed picture of his brothers together at B-3's grand opening a few years ago. Boomer had his arms around them both in his brand new bar tender's outfit. Even Brick was smiling faintly at the camera.
"Look, dude. Just say what you called us here to say," Butch said. "Stop fucking around."
Brick was pale, almost queasy, as he gestured for them sit on the living room couches. Butch sat, but Boomer remained standing where he was. Stiff as rigor mortis, Brick sat on his cloud top couch like it was made of stone.
"I want to start by apologizing for the way I treated you both after that article came out about Blossom and me. Butch," Brick said, his voice paper-thin and hollow, "I went too far in our fight. I'm sorry."
Butch shifted on the couch like his own skin didn't fit right. "Yeah, but I wasn't going to stop either."
"But I should have." Brick's voice took on a sharp edge. "I'm your leader. It's my responsibility to know when to stop. There's no excuse."
Butch leaned over his knees. His eyes glowed poison-bright against the shadows surrounding them. "You ever burn me like that again and we're fucking done."
"I won't. You have my word."
"We'll see."
An awkward silence settled in like a bad smell as Boomer balanced on the balls of his feet and stared at Brick. After a moment, Brick looked up at him, and the scales fell from his eyes.
"Boomer—"
"No," Boomer interrupted. "No."
He tried to leave. Fuck this. He never should have come here.
Brick materialized in front of him before he could reach the door. "Boomer, I just want to—"
"I said no!" Boomer shoved him.
Brick anticipated this and grabbed his wrists, but he didn't fight back. "Listen to me."
Fury and pain twisted Boomer's throat in an ugly knot, and laughter spilled out of him like vomit. "Listen to you? You're fucking kidding me."
"I'm not. Just let me explain—"
"What? Some blanket apology? A few nice words and everything's back to the way it was? Fuck that, and fuck you too."
Red power manifested in Brick's fists around his wrists, pressure and a little pain. "I'm trying to make this right."
"But it's not right!" Boomer shouted in his face, his power rising to meet his brother's. "The way things were sucked, and I'm sick and tired of it!"
"I know that!" Brick shouted right back. "I know it sucked, and I know it's my fault! All this time I thought I was helping, but I was just doing the same shit Mojo did. I'm as bad as he was."
Boomer choked on his words. Brick released him and retreated to the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to his brothers.
"Ever since we were kids, I've done what I had to to keep you both safe," Brick said. "And for a while, I think I was helping. I think we were even happy."
Boomer stared at his back, trembling with the force of his emotions but unable to act on them. His hands yearned to shake Brick until he rattled, but he stood there as still as a corpse watching the water rise around him.
Brick spoke like a man in pieces, drowned full of holes. "But I was so focused on climbing higher and making a better life for us that I lost sight of us actually living it together." He turned back to his brothers, the sun at his back and his shadow long and contorted. "I'm failing you both."
Butch remained on the edge of his seat, brittle as bones awaiting the necromancer's release.
The urge to reach for Brick, to comfort him, was so overwhelming it made Boomer sick to swallow it. But it wasn't Brick who needed comfort now. He'd relinquished that privilege, and no apology today would get it back.
"You were right, Boomer," Brick went on. "Everything you said, how I give with one hand and take with the other, all of it was true. I'm so sorry."
"So what?" Boomer snapped. "You apologize and we're just supposed to accept it?"
"Like hell we will," Butch said. He rose and positioned himself in between his brothers.
Brick's unseelie eyes flickered between his brothers. "No, that's not what I—"
"I had to watch you dying!" Boomer's voice cracked, and hot tears filled his eyes remembering that night that wouldn't end: Blossom's tears freezing on her cheeks as she held Brick down on a cold table, and Mojo covered in Brick's blood up to his elbows and silent as a haunting as he fed Brick fire and needle to bring him back across death's threshold. "And all I could think was how dare you. You don't get to go so easy and make me mourn you on top of everything else."
Brick reached for him then, his own tears steaming in the corners of his eyes and his hands shaking like a child's. "Boomer…"
"Your last moments alive and I wasted them hating you—" Boomer covered his mouth to stifle a gut-wrenching sob.
Butch was at his side in a flash, and Brick's hand was heavy on his shoulder. Shaking and so tired, Boomer leaned on them both and hated himself even more for how good it felt. "I-I was ready to kill M-Mojo if he let you die. Fuck—"
"I'm sorry," Brick said, his voice shaky as he cried and embraced his brothers.
Those moments together, the three of them holding each other up, were the most honest since that dark night Brick had woken Boomer from sleep and told him they were leaving Mojo and never going back. Boomer squeezed his eyes shut and gave into aching as he held his brothers tighter, and they let him.
"I hate feeling this way. I can't do it anymore," Boomer confessed at length, and the brothers parted. "But I can't just go back to what we were."
"Me neither," Butch said. "What we were was broken."
"We won't," Brick said. "I swear we won't."
Boomer wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "You're not failing us, Brick. You've done more for us than anybody, and we're never going to forget that. But I'm not ready to forgive you, either."
"I know. I'm not asking you to."
"Then what are you asking for?" Butch asked.
"A chance. What I've done… I can't make it right with just an apology, I know that. But I want a chance to make it right if you'll give it."
Boomer looked to Butch for guidance. His brother rubbed his weary eyes. The shortest of the three, nonetheless Butch cast a long shadow over Brick right now. "A chance… Fine, I guess I can swing that."
Brick deflated as though Butch had alleviated an abyssal pressure bearing down on him. But it was Boomer to whom they looked to seal Brick's fate.
A chance.
Boomer looked Brick in the eye and searched for the brother who had once given him a chance when he'd needed it most. "It's never too late to do better. Show me you can, and we'll go from there."
Brick's hands shook as he pulled them through his hair. "I'll try."
"That's all I've ever wanted," Boomer said.
Boneless, Brick sank down on the couch like he'd never known rest in his life. He didn't ask them to stay for a round of video games or trashy TV, and neither Boomer or Butch offered. They left him on the couch in his fancy, cold apartment full of trophy books and sharp edges.
But their picture on the bookshelf smiled at Boomer as he followed Butch out, and it took everything in him not to stay.
Butch sat on a bench at the Yuzu Gardens park in the heart of downtown Citiesville in silence. Brisa and Richie sat together in the sandbox building castles and talking a mile a minute. Or rather, Brisa ran her mouth while Richie nodded and laughed like he loved every high-pitched word that came out of her mouth.
"They look so happy," said the older man seated on the other end of the bench. "The resilience of children. Astounding."
Butch glanced askance at him. Simon Swathe was a portly, balding, bespectacled man who had no place among Polonium Peninsula's granola-crunching, Tesla-driving tech moguls. The buttons on his purple dress shirt were buttoned unevenly, but he hadn't noticed. Despite the winter chill, he dabbed his damp forehead with a monogrammed cloth handkerchief. Watery blue eyes flickered nervously to Butch like a particularly squeamish mouse.
"Brisa's tough," Butch said, returning his attention to the kids. "So's Richie, all things considered."
"Yes." He trailed off like he wanted to say more but didn't have the words.
"Rawr!" Brisa roared and waved her hands around.
"I'll stop you, Zombie Girl!" Richie stood up to defend the sandcastle they'd build just as Brisa smashed her foot on top of it and then on Richie himself.
"Raaaaaawr! I'm gonna eat you, puny human!" she bellowed through a fit of laughter.
Simon gasped, but Butch shot an arm out to stop him from getting up.
Richie, covered in sand and laughing, grabbed Brisa's ankle and knocked her down with an inhuman force great enough to send sand exploding out of the box. They collapsed in a heap of giggles, and Brisa began talking his ear off again like they'd never clashed at all.
"He's fine," Butch assured Simon. "He's Super—built to last"
Simon, panting, dabbed his forehead again and flushed. "I suppose it's going to take some getting used to. He was always so fragile."
Not anymore, Butch thought.
With Brisa's power bonded to him, Richie was cured of the debilitating illness he'd inherited from his maternal grandmother. That, and he had the strength of a hundred regular men, inhuman durability, and a hell of a high jump. Butch had been there to catch him and Brisa when they were released from the hospital and Richie hugged her and jumped for joy thirty stories off the ground.
"He's a good kid," Butch said. "Just packs a hell of a right hook now."
Simon gazed at his son playing. When he had woken up in the hospital, Butch and Bubbles had been there to tell him what had happened to his mother. Richie had been very quiet until Simon arrived in tears, a complete wreck escorted by police officers holding him on suspicion of abetting Dinah in her crimes. He let his father hug and kiss him and sob, all while reassuring him that he was okay, that he was sorry about his mother but that everything was going to be okay. It wasn't until Brisa came to and Butch let her in to see Richie that he finally broke down and cried in her arms.
"One day he'll be older and he'll ask about her. About who she really was," Simon said in a shaky voice.
"Have you thought about what you're gonna tell him?"
Simon shook his bulbous head. "No, I… I won't lie to him, but I don't want him to live in shame. This is my shame to bear alone. He's innocent."
Butch studied him. If he passed Simon on the street, he would never guess he was one of the wealthiest, most well-respected faces in the tech industry. The man was just a scared father in over his head being asked to raise a newly Super child he didn't have the first clue how to handle. Dinah had fucked over a lot of people in her criminal run, but perhaps none more so than her own family.
"The investigation cleared you. You didn't know shit. Nobody did. Dinah played a long game, and she was a fucking professional with a grudge the size of the Townsville Dump. Nothing she did was your fault," Butch said.
"But I chose her," Simon said, his voice reedy and desperate. "I loved her. I thought…" He removed his glasses and wiped the unshed tears from his eyes. "I will live and die with this, but Richie shouldn't. I don't want that for him."
"Then help him," Butch said. He leaned over on his knees and watched their children entertain themselves playing tag around the jungle gym. "You didn't ask for this. Believe me, I get it. Raising a kid's hard enough without Super powers. But he's still your kid. Dinah was a villain, but in the end, she did save your son's life."
"No, she didn't. That was your daughter."
Butch clenched his jaw hard enough to shatter. Brisa's triumphant laughter when she tagged Richie rang out above the din of traffic behind them. "Yeah, she did. So don't waste it."
"I don't intend to."
Butch eyed Simon askance. He was watching their children with rapt attention. Butch smirked. "You know, I can always give you a few pointers."
Simon looked like he might cry again. "Thank you. I don't deserve it after everything Dinah put you and your family through, but thank you."
Something told Butch that the self-flagellation was going to be a thing with this guy. What a bleeding heart. No wonder Dinah had so easily manipulated and deceived him. Well, never again. Not now that Butch was looking out for him and Richie. If anyone tried to come after them again, they would be dealing with Butch personally.
He shrugged. "Whatever."
"Hey, I'm finally done, sorry. That took for fucking ever." Buttercup came up behind Butch and ran her fingers through his short hair. It was still a patchy mess, but it was growing back fast.
Butch twisted around to grab her, but she was already there and kissed him way too quickly on the mouth. A low rumble escaped him without meaning to, and she squeezed the back of his neck hard enough to snap bone, a silent warning to keep it in his pants until they were alone.
"Hello, Buttercup," Simon said.
She smiled politely. "Hi, Simon."
"Hey, doll. How'd it go?" Butch asked.
Buttercup put her hand on his shoulder and stood next to the bench. "Better than I thought. Mayor Minor's getting pressure to lift the Anti-Super Ordinance from both sides of the aisle. They're going to vote on it. Don't hold your breath, but it doesn't look like bad odds."
"About goddamned time," Butch said. "That shit is discriminatory as fuck."
Buttercup grinned. "Uh-huh."
A low buzzing drew both their attentions to Simon's pants, where he fumbled for his phone.
"I'm so sorry, I should take this. It's the Townsville Chronicle," Simon said.
"Benny's interviewing you about your new shelter, right?" Buttercup asked.
"That, and the status of Dinah's estate disbursements." He smiled nervously and answered the phone as he got up. "Hello, Benny. Yes, I can speak now…"
Simon left, and Buttercup took his place on the bench next to Butch. He pulled her legs onto his lap as she lay back against the arm rest.
"I still can't believe that dude was married to Dinah all this time. Talk about letting the fox into the chicken coop," Butch said.
Buttercup pressed her lips together. She still didn't trust Simon despite the investigation having cleared him of all suspicion of involvement with Dinah's criminal activity, but that was her nature. Knowing Buttercup, she could count on one hand the number of people she trusted implicitly. It was probably a point of pride for her. "Donating all of Dinah's assets to the families of her victims as restitution was the least he could do."
"Sure, millions in donations and all the new halfway houses and homeless shelters he's opening up here are the bare minimum," Butch drawled. "Your suggestion, by the way."
Buttercup tried to knee him in the gut, but he held her legs fast and began to knead her calves. "Look, I know he's legit and he's trying to help. It's just fucked up, is all. How do you live with someone for years, raise a kid with them, and never know who they really are? How do you hide that kind of secret?"
"I don't know," Butch admitted. "All I know is he feels like the whole thing is his personal fault, and that's not right."
Buttercup mulled that over. "No, it's not."
"You know, telling people about her real identity could help with that."
Buttercup's eyes flashed. "And make Richie grow up shouldering the Hardly psycho dynasty? Pass. That kid's got enough shit ahead of him having to come to terms with his mom being a Supervillain. There's no point in saddling him with the whole fucked up family legacy package."
Butch continued massaging her legs as he thought about that night at Dinah's secret lab. Finding out her true identity had shaken Buttercup to her core; learning that she had orchestrated Professor Utonium's murder as part of an elaborate revenge plot years in the making had almost sent her off the deep end. If Blossom hadn't already killed Dinah, Buttercup would have pulverized her with her bare hands, and then ground her ashes out of existence.
"Speaking of fucked up family legacies," Butch said, "I'm kinda thinking about introducing Brisa to Mojo."
Buttercup sat up straighter. "Seriously?"
"I mean, he's the closest to a dad we ever had."
"He's a Supervillain, Butch."
"So was I."
Buttercup yanked her legs off his lap. "You were a child. He was a grown-ass adult who took advantage of you and your brothers."
"That was a long time ago."
Buttercup sputtered. "And that makes it okay?"
Butch turned and looked right at her. "He saved Brick's life."
Buttercup clenched her jaw. Her anger coiled beneath the surface like a rattlesnake warning him off, but that wasn't his style.
"Well, it's not like I have a say anyway," Buttercup said. "She's not my kid."
Butch grabbed her wrist before she could move away and squeezed hard. "Don't say shit like that."
"This isn't controversial, it's just true. If you're serious, you should really talk to Lorena about it. She'll be here tomorrow to see Brisa. Do it then."
"Hey." He slipped his hand around the back of her neck and bade her look at him. "Don't do that. Don't push us away."
"This isn't about me."
"Maybe it should be."
"What the hell does that even mean?"
"It means I fucking love you, okay? It means I want you to have a say. Goddamn, woman."
Rare were the times when Buttercup got scared enough to show it, but she was trembling now, eyes wide and watching for sudden movements. Butch willed whatever small patience he had to step up for him now, because mother of god did he need it with her.
He scooted closer to her on the bench. "I've been in love with you since the ninth grade, dumbass."
She swallowed hard. "So after I grew tits."
Butch had to physically restrain himself from laughing. "Didn't notice. You know I'm an ass man."
Oh Jesus, was she going to cry? She was going to fucking cry.
Buttercup sniffled and looked over at Brisa and Richie playing on the swing set, but she didn't shed a tear. "I'm not good at this."
"You think I am? I'm makin' this shit up as I go." He took her hands in his and ran his thumbs over her knuckles. "Buttercup."
She met his eyes, and the emotions so plain to see on her face took his breath away. "Fuck, I think I love you too. Both of you."
Butch grinned like the fool he was. "You thirsty bitch, of course you do."
Her smile was a thing of beauty, and holy hell but he wanted her, every part of her. Maybe he always had. For as long as he was alive, she had always been a part of him, be it as a target to hit, a rival to best, a friend to miss when he was gone, or a secret to keep. Not a day would pass him by now without her in it if he had any say in it.
"Buttercup! Daddy! Can we play monsters and heroes?" Brisa came bounding over dragging Richie by the hand. They'd been running around all day and they still weren't tired.
Buttercup laughed and got up. "You got it, kid. But you better stay sharp if you want to beat me."
Brisa crackled with delight and green energy at the blatant challenge, and Richie bounced on the balls of his feet, opening up little cracks in the sidewalk with his building power. "You're on!" Brisa said.
The kids took off running far too fast to be human, and Butch grabbed Buttercup around her waist before she could chase them. He pressed a kiss to her ear. "So far, so good."
She rolled her eyes and shoved him off. "Yeah, yeah."
They spent the rest of the afternoon at the park with the kids, and Butch couldn't remember being happier.
"That's the last of it."
Bubbles looked up from the kitchen counter of her childhood home where she was feeding Cheeto as she waited for her tea to steep. Boomer floated downstairs and rolled up his long sleeves to wash his hands.
"Thank you," Bubbles said. "I would have spent all weekend moving into the master bedroom without your help."
Boomer chuckled and dried his hands on a dish towel. "You do have enough dresses to clothe the entire Townsville High Junior-Senior Prom," he teased.
"It would be the most well-dressed prom in history." She tapped his chest and let her fingers linger with a smile.
He took her hand and brought the heel of her palm to his lips. Bubbles' face slackened as he held the sensual kiss. "You're sure about this?" he murmured.
Bubbles' breath caught in her throat and twisted painfully, but she nodded. "It's been four years."
"There's no expiration date on mourning. Especially since we found out the truth."
Bubbles pressed her body against Boomer's, and he looped an arm around her waist. Close wasn't close enough as her head swam with a grief she knew far too well, fresh as a wound. "He's still gone," she said. "That hasn't changed."
Boomer smoothed her loose, curly hair down her neck and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "But you have."
Bubbles smiled through the tears that threatened to fall and ruin his sweater. She curled her fingers in the fabric and looked up at him. "Yeah. I'd say we both have."
Mourning was as dreary as the Professor's bed left unmade, his clothes laid out but never worn, and they no longer smelled like him. But his memory was gold, laughter and dad jokes, plaid pajamas and pancake breakfasts. He was childhood, the pictures on the walls, the old leather recliner where he read the newspaper every Saturday morning with a cup of bracing, black coffee. He was this house where Bubbles and her sisters were born, where they had lived and loved and yearned together. This house that was hers now, the home she would fill with her colors and her love, and maybe one day, the laughter of her own children.
Boomer's hand was warm on her cheek, and his kiss was warmer still. And she felt it there, in his kiss, in his arms, the life they could build together within these walls. They were strong, sturdy walls that had weathered teenage rebellions and remote control privileges, late nights sneaking out and sneaking back in, Halloweens and birthdays and the loss of the only man Bubbles was once so sure she would ever love, because who could ever replace her father? But he was in these walls too, and here he would remain, never replaced nor forgotten. There was room in her heart for another, just as there was room in this home he had left to her, hoping she would stay.
"Baby," Boomer said when he noticed her crying. "What is it?"
Bubbles burst with a smile and wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's you."
Boomer returned her smile, but he wasn't sure why. "What do you mean?"
"I want you to move in with me. Do you want to?"
Was there ever a more adorable sight than Boomer, flustered and flabbergasted to the point of melting? Maybe Bubbles herself, already melted in his arms and smiling so much her face hurt.
"Yes!" Boomer shouted. "I-I mean, sorry, that was super loud—"
She shut him up with a kiss that was more of a laugh, and he spun her off her feet until they floated.
"Yes, fuck yes, oh my god yes," he said between kisses as they tugged at each others' clothes and zigzagged upstairs to the room they would share.
Their laughter followed them and filled the dusky corners, prism-bright and refracted in his eyes that saw the world in all its lovely, technicolor grace.
"So, is that a yes?" Bubbles teased as they became tangled in the sheets of their new bed.
Boomer smiled so beautifully that he stole her heart, and she gladly gave it.
Morbucks Manor was a gated, Goliath fortress surrounded by manicured gardens and tiny, vassal neighbors. Chandeliers and fresh-cut flowers and a grand piano that had never met a musical finger garnished the parlor where two men convened by the hearth. One sipped a smoky scotch in his ring-festoon fingers; the other remained standing and clutched a black satchel in his baby-smooth hands.
"I brought what you asked for."
"Thank you, Dexter. And I have what you asked for: thirty million wired to an offshore account." Oliver Morbucks held out a folded piece of paper. "The bank codes. Don't spend it all at once, my boy."
Dexter set the black satchel down on the coffee table and took the bank codes. Finally, it was done. That satchel and its accursed contents had kept him from proper rest and reprieve for a week after he barely escaped Dinah Swathe's lab. Even now, it might have been too soon to risk venturing into the open so soon after the incident, but no one kept Oliver Morbucks waiting for long if they wanted to be paid. That money was the Hail Mary he needed to get his own lab up and running, and there would be no second chances. That was what he told himself these sleepless nights lying awake in a cold sweat, memories of a little girl's screams rattling his teeth and thinning his already brittle, red hair.
"Well, if that's all—" Dexter backed away to excuse himself, but Oliver's voice stopped him.
"It's not, actually."
Oliver's dark eyes glowed golden in the firelight through the gloom. He was a big man, barrel-chested with a full beard more silver than auburn in his age. The body of a brute, but there was an air of finesse to him, an elegance that endeared him to that crystal glass of scotch and the looping cursive of the bank codes he'd written out in his own hand. A devil's work is delicate by its very nature.
Took one to know one.
Dexter cleared his throat and wished for something to wring the life out of with his itching hands. "Sir?"
Oliver took a long, savoring sip of his scotch. For a man whose time was money, he had wasted so much of it on Dexter and this ludicrous project that had turned out to be less than ludicrous after all. "There's always work for a man of your talents."
No, Dexter wanted to say, to scream. Fuck no, that wasn't the deal.
But no one said no to Oliver Morbucks if they were getting paid.
"My involvement ended with Dinah Swathe's demise," Dexter said. "The Compound X I brought you is perfected, as requested. There's nothing else for me to assist you with."
Oliver smiled like he'd learned how from the movies. "Oh, I'm sure I can find something for you."
Fucked. Good and royally fucked, that was what he was. But the funding, the opportunity—it was good on paper. So was the chance to work with Aegis Labs and Dinah Swathe herself. But Dinah was dead and Dexter was the only one left of her little prison experiment. Dead last, as they say.
"I'll be in touch," Oliver said.
Thirty years young in his prime and the smartest man he knew, and Dexter shuddered like that little girl on his operating table never once did. Damned if you do, damned if you don't, right? But thirty million could go a long way, maybe even far enough away from Oliver Morbucks if he kept his head on straight about it.
"Goodnight, Mr. Morbucks." Dexter hastily excused himself and headed back the way he came. On his way out of the parlor, a new guest swept by him in the blind flourish of one whose neck did not crane below thirty degrees. Unable to help himself, Dexter stared, literally star-struck.
"Major," Oliver greeted from the parlor, lifting his glass of scotch. "I'm glad you could make it."
Major Glory didn't even notice Dexter hunched over and small as he strutted past him with a snap of his striped cape. "Oliver, likewise. Tell me, how fares our little venture?"
Dexter hurried out of Morbucks Manor, the bank codes clutched in his sweaty hand, and he didn't look back.
The rain came down hard as Blossom dashed from her Lyft ride to the bar double doors with her jacket collar pulled up over her ponytail to keep her hair as dry as she could manage. Inside, B-3 was as crisp and ambient as she remembered with its Edison lights, exposed concrete walls, and supple, leather bucket chairs.
"Blossom!"
Blossom had barely shed her soaked raincoat when Brisa tackled her in a Super-powered hug out of nowhere. "Whoa there! Hi, Brisa." Blossom smiled and patted her braided head.
"I haven't seen you in foreeeeeever!"
"Hmm, that explains why you've gotten so much bigger. Did you grow an inch?"
Brisa lit up like a supernova and began to vibrate with pent up power in her excitement. "Did I really?!"
"Cierto que creciste mas álta desde que te ví, mi reina," said a curvy, Mexican woman with a knowing smile.
"Aaaaand let's not blow up Boomer's bar, as much of an improvement as that would be." Buttercup appeared and put her hands on Brisa's shoulders, absorbing the excess power the five-year-old was giving off like radiation as if it was nothing but glitter.
"Thank you," Lorena whispered to Buttercup.
Blossom met Buttercup's eyes in a question that wasn't a question, but Buttercup just smirked. "Lorena, this is my other sister, Blossom. Blossom, Lorena. Brisa's mom."
Lorena's expressive, brown eyes lit up in a mirror of her daughter's, and she gasped. "Commander and the leader?"
Blossom laughed. "It's been a long time since I've been called that."
"I'm so happy to meet you!" Lorena grabbed Blossom's hand and shook it. "You defeated that horrible woman. I saw the whole story on the news. I don't know how I can ever thank you—you and your sisters. Oh my gosh, I think I'm crying!" Lorena covered her mouth in embarrassment.
Blossom froze, but Brisa came to her rescue. "Don't cry, Mommy! Fighting crime's what us Powerpuff Girls do." She put her little hands on her hips and puffed out her chest, but quickly lost her confidence and glanced at Buttercup. "Right?"
Buttercup grinned. "Damn right."
Brisa's smile could have melted stone. "It's lovely to meet you, Lorena. I'm glad you were able to make it tonight."
"Oh, I wouldn't miss it! It was great meeting you too, really. Come on, Brisa, let's go see if Daddy will help you brush your teeth for bed, okay?"
"Aw, do I have to?" Brisa looked at Buttercup for an ally, but Buttercup put up her hands.
"Hey, don't look at me. Your mom's the boss. I'm going to have to go brush my teeth soon too."
"You are?" Brisa gaped at Buttercup like she had never conceived of the power her mother wielded over mortal souls.
Lorena winked at Buttercup. "Goodnight, ladies. And thank you again." She exchanged a last, meaningful look with Buttercup and steered Brisa away.
"So," Blossom said when they were alone.
Buttercup crossed her arms. "So, what?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Bullshit."
"Really, it's nothing! I'm just surprised, is all."
"By how chill Lorena is? Please, I already told Butch he fucked up severely letting that one get away."
Blossom only smirked and flicked Buttercup's bangs playfully. "Sure you did."
"Eyyyy, there she is! Awesome Blossom!" said Mike Believe coming in hot with a hug.
"Easy, tiger," said Robin Snyder, gracefully twirling Blossom out of Mike's arms once he put her down. "Girl hasn't even had a drink yet!"
"True, let's fix that. Hey, waiter! Some service over here!" Buttercup shouted.
Across the room behind the bar, Boomer flipped her the bird. Buttercup mimed catching it and stuffing it in her pocket.
"I could use a drink," Blossom said.
She found a seat at the bar next to Bubbles, who chatted animatedly with Neha the bartender. Miraculously, Neha matched her beat for beat and even managed to mix margaritas while never straying from the conversation, no easy feat. Mitch, Wes, Harry, and Butch each had a pitcher of beer to themselves as they traded war stories and cop stories and life stories, each more disgustingly risible than the last. Clara and Pablo cuddled in a booth together, enjoying a rare night out with a babysitter at home, and Boomer floated from group to group with drinks and comebacks for the conversations, a genuine smile on his face.
"Why do I know everyone here?" Blossom asked her sister when Neha ducked out to run drinks and apps.
Bubbles sipped her gin and tonic through a bright green bendy straw. "I rented out the bar for the night. It's just us and our friends."
"The whole night? How much did that cost?" Blossom asked, nonplussed.
"Not too much. The owner likes me." She winked.
Buttercup's partner, Ty, arrived on crutches and accompanied by his sister, Melanie. "Oh what, y'all started without this? Come on, now," Ty joked.
"Well, if somebody hadn't insisted on the scenic route," Melanie ribbed him.
But it wasn't until Danny Chang and his mother, Doris, showed up that the whole bar erupted in cheers and applause. The skinny college kid had regained some of his weight, and Antidote X had completely reversed the effects of Dinah's poisoning, save for the scars of memory. Even so, Blossom had never seen a happier welcome and a more deserving recipient.
"You saved my boy," Doris said as she held Buttercup's hands in hers, bony and bird-like. "He is my hope, and you brought him home. Thank you, Buttercup. I will never forget what you've done for us."
Blossom could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen Buttercup cry, and never before had she seen it in public. She hugged Doris and Danny both, and Ty hugged all three of them. They didn't let go until Bubbles gently pulled them apart offering to take a picture, and of course Doris wanted one with all three sisters and their heroic male counterparts.
"Where is the red one?" Doris asked.
It took Blossom a second to realize the old woman was asking her. "Oh, Brick? Well…"
"Here! He's right here. Make way, peasants," Princess announced as she shoved Brick past the threshold. From the damp state of them, they had only just arrived.
Brick caught Blossom's gaze and held it.
"Good, get in the picture, young man." Doris was not taking no for an answer.
Blossom squeezed in between Bubbles and Brick on the end, and his hand found hers, blazing hot.
"Okay, everybody say, 'love makes the world go 'round!'" Mike said as he prepared to take the picture.
"That's way too long!" Buttercup said.
"And it doesn't even rhyme with cheese!" Bubbles said, giggling.
"I got your rhyme, sugar," Butch said. "Everybody say, 'queef!'"
"Butch!" Blossom and Bubbles said at the same time.
Butch guffawed, and Mike snapped a bunch of pictures just in case. When everyone dispersed, Butch waved to Brick but said nothing, and Boomer merely caught his eye and nodded before returning to the bar.
"I shouldn't have come tonight," Brick said, his hand still in Blossom's.
Blossom pursed her lips and slipped her other hand over his bicep. "But you did anyway."
"Because Princess forced me."
"Because you're not a coward." Blossom rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him full on the mouth, plain for anyone to see. "I like that about you."
Brick looked like he was torn between kissing her again and arguing.
"Hey, hey, hey! My favorite Reds!" Mike accosted them with an arm around each of them. "Still soul bonded, I see."
"Jesus Christ," Brick grumbled, but he didn't shrug off the fervid former frat boy.
Blossom slipped out of Mike's hold with a secret smile. "Drinks? I'll put in the order."
"Thanks, Blossom!" Mike said.
Brick looked at her with all the desperation of a drowning man about to draw his last breath in a sea of idiots, but Blossom only smiled at him. "Have fun."
She left them there, and to her relief Brick didn't abandon Mike with a half-baked excuse. Rather, he consented to being led to a nearby table where Elmer Sgloo and a newly unattached Pablo were talking.
"Would you look at that? He can be taught." Princess sidled up to Blossom seated at the bar once again.
Blossom grinned. "He's trying. I think Mike will be good for him."
"God, I hope so. I love the guy, don't get me wrong, but without Butch and Boomer around to pull him in the other direction, he's spending way too much time alone. Or with me."
Blossom sipped her margarita. "I see him sometimes too, you know."
Princess plucked the margarita right out of her hand. "Well, at least one of us is getting some." She sipped the drink and smiled. "Oh my god, that's good, what the fuck."
Blossom laughed and flagged Neha down for two more of her spicy margaritas, and she and Princess settled comfortably on the leather bar stools.
"How are you holding up?" Princess asked. "You know, after everything."
Blossom swirled her drink with her straw. She thought of that harrowing night, how it had dragged on and on even after she'd ended Dinah for good. She had spent hours at Mojo's Observatory with a quietly frantic Boomer trying to keep it together for the both of them while Mojo worked on Brick. And then afterwards, bringing Brick home to recover and thinking it was all finally over, until she'd had to explain to her sisters that their father's death had been no accident, but the product of old grudges and killer curiosity.
But then, the moment Brisa woke up, healthy and safe. The faces of Dinah's surviving victims, cured with Antidote X and returned to their families in tears and smiles. The official thank-you from the City of Citiesville for the service Blossom and her team had done for its citizens keeping them safe. There was even talk of Mayor Minor holding a referendum on repealing the Anti-Super Ordinance as a gesture of goodwill.
Waking up to Brick's hand in her hair, seeking refuge out of ruin, like he couldn't believe she had waited for him to open his eyes.
"Surprisingly okay, all things considered," Blossom said.
Princess scrutinized her over the rim of her margarita glass. "You sure? Because you're a shit liar, so don't even try it."
"I'm sure. Besides, I made a pretty fantastic friend through it all."
"Lay it on me nice and thick," Princess said with a grin. "Flattery always works on me."
"I've noticed." They laughed and sipped their drinks. At length, Blossom said, "By the way, how are you doing?"
"Fabulous as usual. Can't you tell?"
"I meant with adjusting to normal life again."
Princess twirled a curly lock of auburn hair around her painted finger. "Nothing about my life is normal. But since you asked… I'm fine. Better to have loved and lost, blah blah et cetera et cetera."
Blossom's heart twisted in her chest. "I would have let you stay Super," she said softly. "If you hadn't been AX'd…"
Princess waved her off like it didn't matter, but the look in her dark eyes told a different story. "Well, whatever. At least I got to save your distressed damsel ass while it lasted."
Blossom reached for Princess' hand. "Princess…"
"It's fine, really. I told you, I don't need powers to be perfect." She squeezed Blossom's hand back nonetheless. "But thanks. That's… Thanks."
"Hey ladies, can I get any refills going?" Boomer appeared behind the bar in full uniform with his hair messily styled. Blossom was struck with an uncanny sense of déjà vu.
"Boomer! Perfect timing for once. Take a picture of us. We look hot tonight." Princess leaned closer to Blossom and handed Boomer her phone.
"No arguments there. Ready?" Boomer snapped a few pictures of them and handed Princess back her phone.
"Look at us. Effortlessly radiant," Blossom said as they examined the photos.
"God, you're so right," Princess said.
Boomer smiled. "Glad I could be of service."
Princess' phone rang then. "Dad" flashed across the black screen in blocky, white letters, and Princess grimaced. "Goddamnit. Pause, I need to take this." She got up to take the call outside.
"So the rumors are true," Boomer said. "You're involved with Princess Morbucks."
"I have a thing for redheads," Blossom quipped.
"Confirmation bias, I know." Boomer winked.
"You know, I get the feeling we've been here before."
Boomer leaned over the bar. "You know what they say: all roads lead home."
"Under happier circumstances this time."
"Definitely a step up from Friend Date Number One. Weather's not much better though."
"But the company is."
He smiled in that pretty way he had. "Yeah, couldn't agree more."
Blossom leaned toward him conspiratorially. "Speaking of home, I hear congratulations are in order. When's the move-in date?"
Boomer blushed like a tomato, and it melted Blossom's entire heart. "Oh yeah, uh, you know that has absolutely nothing to do with you still living there, right? Like, it's your house. I'm just a guest—"
"A live-in boyfriend, more like. And technically it's Bubbles' house, not mine. I'm just freeloading."
Boomer put a hand over his heart. "It would be my greatest honor to freeload with you in Bubbles' house."
Blossom laughed, and it felt good. "Deal. I'm really happy for you. Both of you. Nobody ever deserved to be happy in love more than you and my sister."
Boomer watched her like he could divine her fortune. "You deserve it too, you know."
"Thank you." Her eyes found Brick still talking with Mike and a few others, a beer in hand and his shoulders blessedly relaxed.
"I guess he deserves it too," Boomer said, following her line of sight. "I just hope he doesn't screw it up."
"He won't," Blossom said, catching Brick's eye and holding it. He sipped his beer and flashed her his open hand: five minutes. Blossom smiled and turned back to Boomer. "He likes what he likes."
Boomer shook his head. "I'll take your word for it."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
Blossom leaned her chin on the heel of her hand. "What do you like? Because we both know it's not running a bar for the rest of your life."
"Ooh, deep, philosophical, life decisions? I thought those weren't unlockable until Friend Date Number Ten, at least," he hedged.
"Boomer, I took an AX bullet for you, and we're about to become freeloading housemates. We're well past that."
He leaned on his elbows and stared at his hands. "Yeah, true."
Blossom put her hand on his and waited for him to meet her gaze. "Do you still want to be a Powerpuff Girl?"
Boomer screwed up his face. "I mean, that was sort of a joke—"
"I'm not joking."
"Then, I don't understand."
"The International Superhero League reached out to Mayor Bellum about sending a representative from the Peninsula. She asked me to do it, but I told her you would be a better choice."
Boomer's eyes grew impossibly wide. "The ISL? The ISL? Like, the have-their-own-comic-book-series Supers?"
"It's a PR gig, mostly. You attend meetings, provide regional status reports, even help coordinate large-scale humanitarian efforts. They've been trying to get me to join for years, but it's almost a full-time commitment."
"And you want me do it? For real?"
"For real." Blossom smiled. "It won't be a walk in the park. You'll have to deal with a lot of bureaucracy, but it would give our region access to an international network of Supers who can send aid if we ever need it. Which may have been nice to have recently."
Boomer stared at her like she was a spell that might break if he looked away. "And you would trust me with this? Why?"
"Because you want it. You said so yourself, you always wanted to be a hero. This is it, Boomer. You can speak for us and reach a wider audience. You can make a real difference. What do you say?"
Too fast to avoid, Boomer dashed over the bar top in a blur of blue and scooped her up into crushing hug that could have jump-started a dormant heart. "Thank you," he whispered fiercely as he clutched her even closer.
Blossom wrapped her arms around him and smiled wide. "You're so welcome."
Brick found them like that, near to tears and clinging to each other. "Should I come back later?"
Boomer and Blossom parted, and he wiped his nose on his sleeve. After a last, meaningful look at her, he turned an icy glare on his brother. "You don't deserve her."
Brick opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it and said nothing.
"But I'm happy for you anyway," Boomer said a little more gently. With a last look at Blossom that conveyed more than his gratitude, he retreated back behind the bar.
Brick stuffed his hands in his pants pockets like he didn't know what to do with them. "I hate this."
Blossom wound her fingers in his shirt and pulled him down closer. "It'll be okay."
Brick closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. Even frustrated and deeply, deeply hurt, he was so lovely to behold when he was being honest. "I hope you're right."
Her breath hitched in the back of her throat, and she hid it with a soft kiss to his cheek. "I usually am."
He slipped his arm around her waist and dug his fingers into the high waist of her skirt. "Yeah."
"Do you want to leave?"
"Right now?"
She smiled and traced his temple with a finger. "Right now."
A familiar, carnal shadow passed over his eyes that ignited fire in her veins and ice in her lungs. "Let's go."
He whisked her out of the bar so fast, only Bubbles' hasty "Have fun!" caught them on their way out into the rain.
The minute they stepped over the threshold of Brick's apartment, Blossom leaped into his arms and he hoisted her up over his hips. He kicked the front door shut behind them, but she was already kissing him like she'd missed him all her life. Brick laughed against her, a low and rich sound that pleased her to her fingertips. She hooked her ankles together around his waist, and he carried her across the living room toward the bedroom.
Blossom gasped when her back hit a wall, and he pressed her hard enough against it to hold her in place but not hard enough to crack it. His hands squeezed her bare thighs under her skirt, a blessed temptation, and she threaded her fingers through his soft hair as he kissed her hard. Unable to resist, she summoned her power and breathed delicate frost into their kiss.
Brick bit down on her lip with a groan as he pressed harder against her, drinking in her power. "Fuck, I love that you know what I like." He rocked his hips against her, teasing, and it was her turn to stifle a moan.
"Likewise," she said, smiling.
"Come here." He floated them off the ground, and the next thing Blossom knew she was flat on her back on his bed. Their clothes fell to the floor bit by slow bit, both of them too caught up in feeling to waste more than a moment at a time on anything that wasn't each other. His palms were fire on her skin, in her hair, and it wasn't enough. His searing hand found hers and pinned it to the sheets, and his eyes locked on hers like he could see every part of her that yearned to burn.
"Brick—"
He kissed her deeply, and a lovely heat warmed her lips, her throat, down to her lungs and further still, until it possessed her like ghosts. Her limbs turned to languid mush, helpless to everything but ecstasy as she pulled him down closer and drank in his power.
He tasted like sunlight and sin, summer's passion and a ferocity of feeling that could have been pride but ran much deeper. Icarus fell when he flew too close to the sun, but Blossom never fell.
They broke their kiss, and their breaths mingled with smoke and steam. Brick's pupils were blown wide with desire and pride and her.
"Wow," Blossom said, her throat lax as Brick's heat slowly left her lungs with every steamy breath. "You're so hot."
"You're welcome," he said.
Despite herself, Blossom laughed. "Terrible."
"You walked right into that one."
"I sure did. Now, get back here and finish seducing me."
"Is that an order?" Brick looped an arm around her waist and sat back on his haunches. Almost too quick to notice, he tore open a condom with his teeth.
Hips elevated and Brick's hands anchoring her to him, Blossom was hard-pressed to think of a more compromising position. The imbalance kindled something potent and primal in her blood.
"Absolutely," she said.
Red energy jumped along her skin where he touched her, betraying his feverish desire for her, and he descended close enough to pin her wrists to the bed.
"I want to hear you," he said, breathless. "Tell me…"
Blossom could have laughed at how good it felt to wield so much power over him. Instead, she arched her back and caught him in a kiss that melted and froze.
When he pulled her hair, it was her unraveling. Ice painted his neck where she pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Brick's flushed skin, and he shuddered.
"Brick," she gasped as she held him, half mad and fully hers, "let go."
He hissed, and she smelled smoke. Greedy, she turned his face to hers and caught him in a burning kiss just as he fell apart in her arms. Slowly, he returned her kiss with a lazy yearning as he regained his sanity, pausing only to discreetly drop the spent condom in a waste basket next to the nightstand. When he nipped her bottom lip, she laughed.
"I love this," she confessed. "I love you."
He searched her eyes for a lie, but he wouldn't find it. He didn't want to. He hadn't wanted to for a long time. "Again."
"Already?"
He pulled her flush against him. "That sounded like a challenge."
Blossom bit her lip to hide a smirk. She hooked her leg around his and flipped them so that he was on his back as she loomed over him. "You've never balked at my challenge before."
His eyes flashed with power as he gazed up at her, and Blossom knew in that moment that he would not have denied her the moon if she asked for it. They collapsed together among soft sheets and searching limbs, until sleep finally caught up with them.
Blossom woke hours later to the lambent, predawn light filtering through Brick's sheer curtains. Half asleep or half dead, the liminal light soothed her tired eyes but offered no warmth. The body next to her, however, pulsed like quiet embers. Blossom wondered if she had ever known true warmth in her life until him.
She slipped her fingers over Brick's bare chest and snuggled closer in his offered embrace. He was awake and watching the grey sky beyond the windows.
For the longest time, neither spoke a word. After the last few days, there were hardly words left in him, and none she needed when he held her to him like she was everything he treasured before and beyond their mortal lives.
"Will you help me?" he asked at length in a voice like smoke, barely there.
"With what?" Blossom asked.
His reverent fingers in her hair made her toes curl, and his parted lips on her brow were sacred and humbling. "With my brothers," he said, fragile like she had never heard him before. "With work, life…fucking everything."
Blossom pressed her lips together and choked on a wrenching sob that threatened to dismantle her. After all this time, all they had suffered and all they had survived, he had learned her ruins and how to build them back up. What good were castles without souls to fill their halls? What good was a brand new day without a partner to greet it with?
Brick shifted beside her. His thumb caught her cold tears and threaded through her hair, delicate as the morning sun. "I chose you," he said fervently, "and you chose me. What are the odds?"
What were the odds that she would return here, heartbroken and lovelorn, looking for nothing but patience, only to find her way home? To the sisters she had abandoned and the father who'd been stolen, to grief she could process and trauma she could learn to control, monsters and magic, gods and girls who deserved so much better, who were better, who had survived. And to him, the man she had never meant to leave because he'd never meant anything until now, until she couldn't imagine facing whatever lay beyond this morning without him by her side.
Maybe it was fate. Chemical, this pull between them, equals and opposites, polarized and magnetic. Or maybe it was a happy accident, time and distance and the unspoken acceptance of something that had always been there, cold and smoldering just beneath the surface, and they were only ever too caught up in pride and ego to give it a chance. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was here and hers, this time for good.
Blossom smiled through her tears. "Soul bond for the win."
To her delight, Brick returned her smile and pulled her close for a kiss. "Yeah, soul bond for the win."
The sun rose slowly over the bay, and they rose with it.
Well, that's all she wrote! I want to sincerely thank each and every person who took a chance on this fic by a newbie PPG author and gave it a shot. To the silent readers, the Tumblr anons, the people who favorited and followed and left reviews, the incredible fan artists who were inspired by this fic, and most of all to the author and artist communities on Tumblr and Instagram who put up with me on a daily basis—you guys are all amazing, and I can't tell you how grateful I am to have your support. This fandom has been so welcoming to me since day one, and I feel truly honored to be a part of the PPG community. I've been jumping around fandoms since my main fandom dissolved several years ago, and landing in PPG finally feels like the new home I've been looking for ever since.
Last but most certainly not least, a HUGE thank you to my fabulous beta, Mordor. He put up with my late-night rants and ravings, corrected my (many) dumbass mistakes, provided some truly crucial concrit, and camped out in the creative trenches with me every step of the way to get this fic out the door in the best shape it could be. BTM would not exist without him.
I have so much more to write for PPG! I hope that sequel bait tasted good, because yes, I do have plans for continuing this in some fashion. Might be a series of one shots, or possibly a full-on multi chapter sequel. I haven't quite decided yet. Either way, BTM universe is far from over!
Finally, I am extremely pleased to announce my next main PPG multi chapter fic: Trinity House. If you liked this fic and my writing in general, I encourage you to check that one out when I start posting it very soon! It will feature the PPG and RRB of course, as well as some very special newcomers I have been dying to write: the Powerpunk Girls. I hope to see you there! 💖💙💚