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Mitch drank his smoothie, taking three-second slurps before coming up for air. Buttercup didn't understand how he had an appetite sitting beside the Professor's lab experiments. The stink of hydrogen sulfide made her gag.
"You're not saying much," Mitch observed, "Problem?"
"It's 6am and I'm fully conscious. There's your problem," she snapped. She didn't get much sleep these days – not with all her doubts and insecurities having a Battle Royale in her freaking head. When she'd finally fallen asleep, Blossom had woken her up to watch over Butch.
She rested her head on the table top. The marble was cool against her cheek— enough to keep her alert. Butch slept propped against the massive dome cell that Blossom had created; she'd reverse engineered one of the Professor's personal force field devices. And it looked pretty tough. But still, Blossom insisted that they couldn't keep him locked up. Technically, they were breaking the law right now.
Buttercup groaned and slid off her stool. She shuffled towards the metal contraption beside the transparent dome.
Butch's mouth hung slightly open. His previously spiked hair was matted to his head, as dark as the circles under his eyes. What did he have to worry about? What could possibly make him lose sleep? His eyebrows furrowed and soft wheezes slipped from his mouth, quicker with each passing second.
Butch was having a nightmare.
He looked small, curled in on himself, and buried in black clothing. In the seconds between each wheeze his face was completely still, calm, almost…handsome. Buttercup reached, almost touching the dome.
"What are you doing?" Mitch called.
"Nothing." She snatched her hand away.
She glanced at Mitch. He went back to slurping his smoothie and this time each swig was longer: four seconds, five seconds, six seconds. Sheesh.
"Why are you even here Mitch?"
"I said I'd check up on you. How's your ankle?"
She twisted her foot left and right. As soon as the swelling had reduced, it had hardly bothered her. "I have a high pain tolerance. I'm alright," she replied. "Now why are you really here?"
"To watch you chaperone a supervillain," he didn't smile but there was a teasing crinkle to his eyes, "your sister told me. She's on a mission with Blossom, right? You have your work cut out for you."
She assumed he meant Bubbles. But he never said her name. "Don't make things weird Mitch."
He slurped his smoothie; she could tell that the freaking cup was empty. "Weird how?"
"You never say Bubbles' name. You've never spoken about her. You didn't even tell me you had a thing for her."
He nodded. "Because you always look uncomfortable when relationship talk comes up."
"Well, I'm not." She lied.
"You're not uncomfortable?"
"I'm not."
"Okay then."
When the silence held for several seconds, Buttercup went back to her original task. She crouched, searching for the correct dial on the metal contraption; the one that would deactivate the dome prison. She twisted a small black nob and the dome vanished.
Butch's eyes flung open.
Buttercup steeled herself.
But he wasn't paying her any attention. It looked like his nightmare had got the better of him. There was now a sheen of sweat clinging to his forehead and his pale skin was nearly camouflaged with the washed-out floor tiles.
He slowly lifted his head, chest heaving.
Buttercup felt she should say something. "You're not dying right?"
He snorted.
Buttercup looked at Mitch. He shrugged, "Uh, want some water man?"
Butch nodded.
"Be right back," Mitch said, heading upstairs.
Butch glanced at Buttercup. "Finally let me out of my cage, huh? So tell me, who needs saving?" He stood up and swiped his hand across his forehead. "Brainiac? Blondie?" he prompted.
Mitch entered with a bottle of water and tossed it her way. She handed it to Butch. "Drink up and take a shower. That's all." She wasn't running a hero training camp. They weren't going to skip through Townsville as a crime fighting duo. He was being used for the tough battles. And right now, he wasn't needed. "Follow me upstairs and I'll show you around. After that, stay out of my way."
Buttercup expected a snarky reply, but instead he just took a swig of water. The colour was returning to his face, but he wasn't quite his pain-in-the-ass self.
"Hey," Mitch said, typing away on his phone, "I need to run out for a second. My mum's lost her keys again."
Buttercup frowned. "Didn't you say you wanted to watch me chaperone a super villain? You live in a trailer. Any kid off the street can pick that lock." She didn't want to be left alone with Butch. He was too compliant, too calm. It made her uneasy.
"Nice Buttercup. Nice." Mitch stuffed his phone into his pocket and headed for the stairs.
"Oh, come on. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that she doesn't need you. But I -" She'd almost said something stupid. Almost admitted that she wanted his support because big bad Butch was around. Almost showed the bad guy just how much he affected her.
Mitch exhaled, his back to her. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I know what you were trying to say. I've been deciphering your comments for years." There wasn't a shred of anger, just a weary undertone that weighed his words. Then he waved, and suddenly it seemed like he was back to normal. "I've got you. Just give me a sec. and I'll be right back."
"Actually, don't bother."
She didn't like the vibe she got. Like she was a burden. Like dealing with her was wearing him out. It was just for a second, but she'd never felt that way around Mitch. "I just remembered that I've got a lot of things to sort out today. You can't hang here. You'll get in my way."
He gave his signature slow motion nod – the type he used when he was contemplating a situation or controlling his emotions. "Alright then," he said, "I'll see you around." He jogged up the stairs.
A knot formed in the pit of her stomach.
"…So much drama so early in the morning."
The knot burst into flames. "Shut the hell up Jojo."
"So, you've got a lot of things to do today, huh?" he continued. Clearly, whatever effects the nightmare had on him, had vanished. He had no problem speaking his mind. "Like what? Are we going on a mission? Or getting in a workout?"
"I'm catching up on TV shows," she deadpanned.
He snorted. "What? Heroes don't train these days?"
She regretted engaging in a conversation. "Mind your own damn business."
She peeked at the training room. She'd purposely avoided it. Stretched out from wall to wall was the duranium chamber. They'd often used it for simple puff-on-puff sparring sessions, but sometimes they'd trained with advanced battle simulations. A couple of months ago she was the best, reaching level 25 of the 30 level construct. She wasn't eager to see where she ranked now.
Buttercup nudged Butch towards the stairs. "Come on, let's get this grand tour over with."
"This. This right here is really what you do with your day?" Butch asked.
His hair was back in its signature spikes and he'd borrowed a green washed out t-shirt from the Professor. He was slouched against the couch cushions, but Buttercup was perched on the end of her seat. Even though morning had turned into evening, she couldn't let herself relax around him.
She grabbed the TV remote. "What? You got something against The Walking Dead?"
"Not a fan of mindless time wasting is all."
"You mean the same way I'm not a fan of engaging with you? Then I guess I can respect that."
Butch rested his feet on the coffee table. "Too bad Ballerina. You scared away your BFF, and your sisters are nowhere to be found. Looks to me like we'll be spending a lot of time together."
She tossed the remote aside. "Don't give me a ridiculous nickname. Don't speak about my relationships," he leant towards her, reaching out, "and don't touch the remote."
He fell back into his slouch and chuckled. "Fine, fine. Guess I'll put up with this too."
Buttercup didn't want to ask, she was already in a bad mood and any prolonged conversation with Butch made her want to pluck her ears off. But still, but she was curious. "And what does that mean?"
He blew out a breath. "It means I'm playing along. I'm putting up with this joke of a hostage situation because this is exactly where I need to be. Already told you I want to do some good in Townsville; if this is the kind of crap I need to put up with then fine. I'll deal for a little longer."
Buttercup felt like her scowl would leave a permanent imprint on her face. He thought the Puffs were weak; he was just another person calling her a powerless washed out hero. And this wasn't the first time either. "You think you can leave that easily? Don't underestimate me."
He rolled his shoulders back and began stretching out his arms. "Why not Ballerina? I mean for starters, you don't even train. I'm pretty sure it's not underestimating if it's tr—"
She slammed her fist into his face.
She was so sick of people calling her weak. So sick of assholes verbalising every single fear she had. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. And she wouldn't hear it from a Jojo. "You don't know shit."
Her hand ached. The pain seemed to blaze brighter from the point where her knuckles had crashed into his face. But she was itching to hit him again.
"What the hell." There was a spec of blood on his front tooth. "Super strength comes with a certain level of durability," he licked the blood away, "but that still hurt like a mother —"
"Get up and go. I dare you." He rubbed his jaw and Buttercup straightened her posture. She wouldn't win a fight, she probably wouldn't be able to stop him either. But she wanted an excuse to beat him bloody.
Butch's hand fell from his jaw. "Reign in your anger Hulk. Didn't I just say this is where I need to be? Learn to take a freaking joke."
So insults were a joke, and kicking someone when they're down was the funniest thing in the world, huh? Then she'd tell him something hilarious. "You're playing hero all by yourself Butch. What? Even your worthless brothers got sick of your attitude? That's pretty freaking sad."
He scoffed. "Please." He was already reaching for the remote, straining to see past her body. "They didn't get sick of me. I got sick of them."
"Oh?" Buttercup's skin crawled; mind games were more Blossom's style. In this moment, she almost felt like the Ice Queen's puppet. "So they're the villains and you're the hero? They're the bad guys and you're the traitor?"
His lips thinned and she knew she'd hit the mark.
"Hey Jojo, have you ever wondered what will happen if the Rowdyruffs manage to track down their traitorous brother?"
Butch glared up at her. His flippant attitude was long gone. "You're pushing me."
She leant forward. Buttercup knew she was wide open- it was stupid, it was prideful- but she wasn't Blossom. She wanted to see his reaction as close as possible. "…Brick must scare the hell out of you."
He snatched up a handful of her shirt and sprang to his feet. Buttercup's toes barely touched the ground.
She had to remind herself to breathe.