At the Boston Airport, the girls slowly made their way to the sign
"BLOSSOM, BUTTERCUP, BUBBLES." They had seen a picture of their foster
parents, and this guy was definitely not them. He seemed like he was only a
few years older than the girls were. Secondly, he seemed like a guy who was
kind of anti-social. He was dressed in all black, his tee shirt had the
logo of some bloody band, and he had chains and spikes.
"Who are you?" Buttercup asked bluntly.
"Your new brother," he stated, tossing aside the sign of their names. "Ellen and Bill wanted to come pick you up, but Ellen's sister is having health problems, and they needed to go see her."
"Are you. adopted too?" Bubbles asked, nervously shifting her weight between her feet.
"Yeah, I am. There's one other, a younger girl, Anna. By the way, my name is Aaron, and I'm sixteen. Anna is only three. Ellen and Bill only wanted to have plenty of kids, you know? Turns out they can't have any. Such a shame, really, they make excellent, understanding parents. I'm sure you'll love them."
"They aren't our parents," Buttercup snapped accidentally. "What I mean is-"
"You don't have to explain. I understand. I felt that way myself. You already had parents."
"We already had a dad, yes." There was an awkward silence for a minute.
"Well, shall we get going, then?" he asked, looking at them in a melancholy glance. They grabbed their bags, and followed him out of the airport.
"Where are the newcomers?" Blossom heard a voice downstairs asked. They were all just sort of sitting in Blossom's new room. They had all been given separate rooms in the huge house. Blossom looked up at Bubbles and Buttercup.
"They're here," she said so quietly it was almost a whisper. Then she looked apprehensively at Buttercup. "Be nice, okay? They're nice people who let us stay here."
"Who said I wouldn't be nice?" Buttercup barked, looking offended. Soon after, they heard footsteps coming up the stairs and a light knock on the door.
"Can I come in?" A woman's voice asked gently.
"Yes," Blossom called out to her. The door opened, and a slightly thin woman with gentle features, blonde hair and green eyes came in the room. She was wearing a turquoise, light, loss-fitting long dress that swayed whenever she made the slightest movement.
"I hope you like it here," She began. "There's so much to do in Boston. I suppose you're hungry and tired, aren't you lot?" The three of them just sort of nodded. "Yes, that's to be expected. Well, I'm sure dinner will be ready shortly. Would you like to come downstairs and get some?" Blossom and Buttercup nodded again and stood up to leave. Blossom and Ellen disappeared behind the door, and only then did Buttercup stop.
"Bubbles, you're not coming?" Buttercup asked her. Bubbles just shook her head. Buttercup shrugged and followed the other two downstairs.
Downstairs, at the dinner table, Ellen was serving plates full of chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn. Everybody-with the exception of Bubbles, who was still upstairs-was sitting down, almost like a family. There were plenty of polite "please pass," and "do you want"s, and it seemed for a brief moment like the two girls were completely normal.
This made Bill very happy. They had fostered and adopted many children, but none of them had actually witnessed their parent's murder. And at such an age, where it is bound to stay stuck in their memory forever. He looked at the young redhead and the young brunette, and decided to give the normal, "as the male-figure, I enforce the rules, hardy har," speech. "I really hope you like it here. As your foster father, I-"
"You're not our father!" Buttercup snapped suddenly. Wrong thing to say. He hadn't even realized he said it, until it was too late.
"Yes, you're right, I was in no way implying that-"
"We already had a father!"
"Yes, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"It doesn't matter what you 'meant' by it! You still said it! I don't care if it's 'a force of habit'! You are not my father, and I don't want to hear you refer to yourself as mine!" Buttercup stormed away, leaving her meal behind. Bill looked at Ellen almost helplessly, and she quickly looked away. He looked down at the table, and noticed Blossom was staring at her plate as if it had grown a head. Yes, bringing up these girls would be difficult. One who was bathed in anger, one who secluded herself from everything, and one who was probably the most affected, acting almost normal. Yes, it was most definitely going to be a challenge.
"Who are you?" Buttercup asked bluntly.
"Your new brother," he stated, tossing aside the sign of their names. "Ellen and Bill wanted to come pick you up, but Ellen's sister is having health problems, and they needed to go see her."
"Are you. adopted too?" Bubbles asked, nervously shifting her weight between her feet.
"Yeah, I am. There's one other, a younger girl, Anna. By the way, my name is Aaron, and I'm sixteen. Anna is only three. Ellen and Bill only wanted to have plenty of kids, you know? Turns out they can't have any. Such a shame, really, they make excellent, understanding parents. I'm sure you'll love them."
"They aren't our parents," Buttercup snapped accidentally. "What I mean is-"
"You don't have to explain. I understand. I felt that way myself. You already had parents."
"We already had a dad, yes." There was an awkward silence for a minute.
"Well, shall we get going, then?" he asked, looking at them in a melancholy glance. They grabbed their bags, and followed him out of the airport.
"Where are the newcomers?" Blossom heard a voice downstairs asked. They were all just sort of sitting in Blossom's new room. They had all been given separate rooms in the huge house. Blossom looked up at Bubbles and Buttercup.
"They're here," she said so quietly it was almost a whisper. Then she looked apprehensively at Buttercup. "Be nice, okay? They're nice people who let us stay here."
"Who said I wouldn't be nice?" Buttercup barked, looking offended. Soon after, they heard footsteps coming up the stairs and a light knock on the door.
"Can I come in?" A woman's voice asked gently.
"Yes," Blossom called out to her. The door opened, and a slightly thin woman with gentle features, blonde hair and green eyes came in the room. She was wearing a turquoise, light, loss-fitting long dress that swayed whenever she made the slightest movement.
"I hope you like it here," She began. "There's so much to do in Boston. I suppose you're hungry and tired, aren't you lot?" The three of them just sort of nodded. "Yes, that's to be expected. Well, I'm sure dinner will be ready shortly. Would you like to come downstairs and get some?" Blossom and Buttercup nodded again and stood up to leave. Blossom and Ellen disappeared behind the door, and only then did Buttercup stop.
"Bubbles, you're not coming?" Buttercup asked her. Bubbles just shook her head. Buttercup shrugged and followed the other two downstairs.
Downstairs, at the dinner table, Ellen was serving plates full of chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn. Everybody-with the exception of Bubbles, who was still upstairs-was sitting down, almost like a family. There were plenty of polite "please pass," and "do you want"s, and it seemed for a brief moment like the two girls were completely normal.
This made Bill very happy. They had fostered and adopted many children, but none of them had actually witnessed their parent's murder. And at such an age, where it is bound to stay stuck in their memory forever. He looked at the young redhead and the young brunette, and decided to give the normal, "as the male-figure, I enforce the rules, hardy har," speech. "I really hope you like it here. As your foster father, I-"
"You're not our father!" Buttercup snapped suddenly. Wrong thing to say. He hadn't even realized he said it, until it was too late.
"Yes, you're right, I was in no way implying that-"
"We already had a father!"
"Yes, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"It doesn't matter what you 'meant' by it! You still said it! I don't care if it's 'a force of habit'! You are not my father, and I don't want to hear you refer to yourself as mine!" Buttercup stormed away, leaving her meal behind. Bill looked at Ellen almost helplessly, and she quickly looked away. He looked down at the table, and noticed Blossom was staring at her plate as if it had grown a head. Yes, bringing up these girls would be difficult. One who was bathed in anger, one who secluded herself from everything, and one who was probably the most affected, acting almost normal. Yes, it was most definitely going to be a challenge.