A/N: Wow. I am stunned at how well received this fic has been. Thanks for your encouragement. I'll try to respond to reviewers at the end of the chapter.
Let me warn you - I hope this chapter isn't too confusing. I tried experimenting with a different narrative style, and I think it might be easier to read if I could use the HTML formatting to italicize things, but I have to make due with paragraph separations. The only format I have luck with uploading is TXT format. Not sure what I'm doing wrong.
As for the narrative style I used this time, you'll see what I mean.
~~~~~~~
Chapter 2 - A Watched Pot Sometimes Boils
/He put his hand on my shoulder awkwardly. "Bubbles," he said. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but I thought you shouldn't get your hopes up so high."
None of the guys had ever touched me before, and to have the first contact with any of them be out of pity was not to be borne.
I stood up, feeling my back go ramrod straight. "Hope is what makes living bearable," I said, and retreated to my room.
I didn't look back once to see if anyone noticed my abrupt departure. Just another day in my life. "The joy and the laughter" - my ass./
~~~~~~~
"Last night I sketched Butch in a dozen different poses, each of them seared into my memory. Butch, glaring at Buttercup. Butch, throwing daggers with his eyes. Butch, his eyes full of fiery lust...and...and...I was bawling as my pencil flew across the page, wishing that any of those looks could have been cast in my direction."
Bubbles sighed heavily.
"And then, in a rare fit of anger, I crumpled every one of them up and threw them on the floor. Of course, you know that I ended up picking them up again and smoothing them out. Into the Dark Portfolio they went."
Bubbles looked at her audience, a mangy looking teddy bear.
"This is pathetic, you know," she sighed. "I can't believe I'm sixteen years old and still talking to you like this." She gave it a watery smile. "But you'll never tell anyone, will you?"
It was more than pathetic, she knew, as she stretched out on the bed. The bear.
The bear had been Buttercup's. A few years ago, when they were in seventh grade, Butch had given it to Buttercup as a joke. She had shown what she thought of that joke by torching its ears and then throwing it at Butch before she started pummeling him. They had been going through their mating ritual even then, Bubbles realized.
She fingered the top of the teddy bear's head where the ears had been burnt off by Buttercup's heat vision. Bubbles' infatuation with Butch had been going on even before then. She'd glanced around furtively before retrieving the bear from the garbage, where it had ended up later that evening, when Buttercup decided Butch had had enough and had glared at him as she shoved the thing into the garbage.
Bubbles loved that bear, because Butch had gotten it. It didn't matter that the bear wasn't intended for her. She could always pretend. After all, Buttercup might have turned around and GIVEN it to her, because everyone knew that Bubbles liked cutesy things like teddy bears and unicorns. Bubbles tried to convince herself that had been Butch's intent all along. It wasn't really lying if you only tried to convince yourself, as far as she was concerned, and who was she to say what Butch had really intended? Boys' logic never made sense to her, so it wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that the bear had been meant for Bubbles.
The bear had been her silent confidante since then. She had kept it carefully hidden away. She didn't know how she'd ever explain to Buttercup where that bear came from. How many bears were there that had their ears burned right off, after all? When she wasn't writing in her journal, something she'd only begun the year before, the bear was there to hear her. It was dangerous, though, to bring out the stuffed animal, whereas the journal was rather innocuous. In her head, she talked to the bear as she wrote in her journal. Now and then, though, when she had the house to herself and felt confident that no one would come home unexpectedly, out came the bear.
Besides, at least she didn't get tongue-tied talking to HIM.
She heard voices downstairs, and quickly stuffed the bear back in his hiding place. She flopped back on the bed and drew the covers over her head. Maybe if they thought she was sick, they would leave her alone.
~~~~~~
I spent the whole day in bed. That's what I told my sisters. In truth, I was working on a miniature oil painting. I had to exorcise the demon in me. When I was finished, I felt better. Art has always been a release for me. I didn't really like to look at the work I'd done during my bouts of depression. Buttercup would have loved it, dark and foreboding and anguished. I really hated to create anything that didn't have some semblance of hope in it, but I guess the hope was present in me, the artist, and it would have to do.
Cathartic. That's today's word of the day. What a weird coincidence.
~~~~~~
Boomer thankfully said nothing more about their little conversation, but Bubbles did catch him throwing pitying glances her way. Part of her wanted to scoff at his infatuation with Blossom, in retaliation for his attempt to crush her flimsy hopes, but she just couldn't bring herself to hurt his feelings that way.
Unfortunately, the fact that he looked her way more than once was all his brothers needed to decide that Boomer had 'a thing for Bubbles.'
~~~~~~~
"Butch commented, rather loudly, something along the lines of...if Boomer ever couldn't handle the weight of my breasts, he'd be more than happy to pinch hit for him. Except in much more colorful language and with rude gestures to accompany it.
"It HURT," she told the bear. "It really hurt. Butch had ignored me for so long, and then he only notices me because he thinks his brother is interested? And on top of that, he only noticed me for what I LOOK like? How does that make him any different from anyone else? We've known each other a long time, how could he treat me like that?" She wiped at the tears on her face angrily. She was glad they'd all decided to stop pestering her to go to the movies that night. She felt a little bad leaving Boomer as the fifth wheel, but on the other hand, it was his fault that she was receiving this unwelcome attention, so he had to deal with the consequences of his actions.
"Why did he have to keep LOOKING at me like that? And how could anyone mistake those glances as meaning...AAARGH! It was obvious Boomer felt SORRY for me, even though I made it perfectly clear that he didn't need to do so. But nooooo..."
She stood up and started pacing the room, glancing at the bear as if she were checking to see if he were listening.
"I mean, I wanted Butch's attention, but not like that. Be careful what you wish for, right? To think I wanted those lusty looks thrown my way. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if I thought...I don't know. If I thought he REALLY lusted after me, and wasn't just being a jerk about it because he thinks Boomer is - 'eager to get in my pants' among several other choice comments that he made."
She picked up her hairbrush and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the ponytail holder loose and tossing it on the nightstand before running her fingers through her hair.
"All of them think the same thing about me, you know. Ditzy, emotional, gullible," she ticked off the traits on her fingers with the hairbrush. "All true. None of them know how deep my emotions run, though. They THINK they do, but they only know that I'm the first to break down and cry, the first to laugh, and that usually my emotions are plainly written on my face. You'd think that would be enough, but it's not. No one understands me."
She set the brush on the bed and toyed with the frayed ribbon around the bear's neck, a soft smile gracing her lips.
"That's not quite true, either. The professor does. He's like me in that respect. I don't think Blossom or Buttercup understand how deeply HE feels things, either. When someone forms an opinion of you, it's very hard to change it, especially when everything they see tends to support their opinion." Her smile grew a little wider and she picked up her hairbrush again. "Hmm. Knowing that I have this in common with my father is the only thing that makes me feel like it's not a curse."
She hummed softly as she brushed her hair, winking at the bear as if they'd just shared a great secret.
~~~~~
A week after Boomer popped Bubbles' balloon of happiness, they were gathered in the living room, all of them sitting on the floor with their backs against the couch except for Brick and Blossom, who were playing chess at the table. Boomer was playing his hand held video game, Bubbles was reading a romance novel, and Butch and Buttercup were watching pro wrestling on TV, arguing over which finishing moves were best and who really deserved to win the championship.
~~~~~
I don't know when it started. Boomer was on my right, and at first, Butch was on my left. At some point, I started to feel all tingly. It wasn't the same as the way I usually feel when I'm next to Butch, though. I take that back; I DO know when it started. Butch had been sitting near me, but when they'd started arguing, he'd turned away from the TV and was facing Buttercup, who was on his other side. The two of them were gesturing wildly to emphasize their comments, and they were both as loud as always. It was the quiet that actually distracted me. I noticed that Butch was grunting instead of yelling to make a point, and I looked up at the two of them. And that's when I knew - I KNEW - that today was The Day.
Boomer must have noticed the intensity of my gaze, because he glanced up at me, then at Butch and Buttercup. Yeah, he'd still been giving me the occasional look of pity. I think it makes him feel better about his own little crush.
So here's what was going on. Buttercup was demonstrating one of those wrestling moves on Butch, and he managed to break free, flip her around, and trap her between his legs. She lay on her back, cussing a blue streak, as he leaned over her and crowed. Loudly. What a surprise.
Wait, it gets better. Brick and Blossom were OBLIVIOUS to the sexual tension that practically crackled in the room. Despite the fact that I still wanted Butch for myself, and that I was still hurting from his crude comments of the week before, I found myself whispering, "Go for it, Butch." Boomer looked at me oddly, but I didn't care.
Buttercup started struggling wildly, tucking in her knees in an attempt to throw him off. Butch just laughed, capturing her wrists and leaning rather heavily against her shins so she was effectively trapped by her own legs. She paused a minute, then did manage to kick him off her by extending both legs. Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case may be, Butch didn't relinquish his grip on her wrists, and as he flipped over, she went with him. They somersaulted several times on the ground before slamming against the wall. Blossom yelled, "Watch the rough housing!" but didn't look up. Brick glanced at them once, then returned his attention to the chessboard.
I was practically tearing my novel in two, but the romance unfolding before me was much more engaging than the printed version in my hands.
The two of them starting fighting in earnest, and if it were...an opera, I just knew this would be where the singing would get really loud, where the notes would be held for a long time, and the music would send shivers down your spine from the vibrations. I know that sounds stupid, but I half expected some kind of musical 'soundtrack' to start, to set the tone for what was about to happen.
I remember dropping my book and coming to my knees, leaning forward as if I would miss something. I felt Boomer move next to me.
I suddenly realized that, after Blossom's chastisement, that she and Brick were much too quiet, especially considering that World War III was still going on not twenty feet away. It's not like they were noisy when they played chess, but they carried on conversations all the time, and sometimes they tried to psych each other out. That background noise was gone, so I snuck a peek at them. Their eyes were locked on to each other's. Blossom's face had gone all soft, and Brick's hand had captured hers as they both held one of the chess pieces. Then her hand, with the chess piece (the horse, it will always be the horse to me because I have no intention of letting Blossom teach me that game) slowly slid out of Brick's hand and she placed the horse on the table. I swear it was like she was moving in slow motion. I hadn't expected THEIR relationship to take such a drastic turn, but that's probably because they were much more subtle in their mating ritual than Butch and Buttercup were. Boomer must have seen it, too, because I heard his intake of breath.
I returned my attention to the wrestling match going on. Buttercup was bucking like mad, still trying to dislodge Butch. She was wildly throwing punches and he was deflecting every one of them. One of her fists aimed right for his face, and he caught it. I could see the muscles in their arms straining. They both were staring at each other, panting from exertion, and I was squirming with excitement. What can I say, I live vicariously.
Without warning, Butch pulled Buttercup to him by her trapped hand and covered her mouth with his own, his other arm going behind her back to hold her up. She stiffened at first, frozen in his embrace. His free hand caressed the back of her head, and she visibly relaxed. Her body actually seemed to melt against his, and she started kissing him back. Tears ran freely down my face as I watched the two of them give in to the passion that had plagued them for so long. They just looked so right together. It hurt, but I knew that I had needed to see it, to see how damn perfect they were for each other. I ducked back behind the couch and sniffed. I guess this is what they mean by "closure." Just because it was necessary doesn't mean it didn't 'hurt like a bitch' - only fitting to use one of Buttercup's expressions in this case.
I had to turn away from the sight of the two of them, and that's when I noticed Boomer, who had moved back to his position with his back against the couch. His face was bright red, and he looked angry. I looked at him thoughtfully. It seemed as though he was going to just sit there in silence, processing what he'd seen between Blossom and Brick, but instead, he turned to me and laughed. He actually laughed at me, and it was a harsh laugh. I don't think I've ever heard him make a sound like that, not ever.
"I told you that you weren't his type," he said. The expression on his face was not pleasant.
Normally I try to consider why people feel the need to say things, even when they hurt my feelings and make me cry. Maybe it was because I was already crying, and going through a riot of emotions on my own, between joy for Buttercup and sorrow for myself, and longing for something like THAT in my own life...that I turned around and slapped him. Hard. A bright red handprint was on his face, and he looked ready to throttle me, but then he crossed his arms and turned his back to me, effectively telling me I wasn't worth the time or effort.
I got to my feet and left the room. With the 'love-in' that the living room was becoming, I doubted that anyone had noticed what had just taken place between me and Boomer, and frankly, I didn't care.
~~~~~~~
A/N Part 2:
I really debated on going back through this chapter and making it all first person perspective, in Bubbles' POV, again. I don't know whether this will work for the rest of the story. It's even possible that I might go back in and reupload this chapter if it seems that people find it difficult to follow. In fact, I uploaded Chapter 1 THREE times, all within a 24-hour period of time, and yet I had received some reviews for it in between each version. If you read it the first day, you might want to see what I added to the chapter, but if you don't, it won't affect your understanding of future events.
I was truly shocked at the immediacy of reviews. I think it says something about the PPG fan base. I do try to write something that I enjoy, and I will never threaten to NOT continue a story if I don't receive reviews. Now that I've added a second chapter, I'm pretty much committed to continuing it, because where the first chapter worked well as a one shot, the addition of chapter 2 has really made a continuation necessary. There's that "closure" Bubbles was talking about.
I don't remember which of them had the heat vision or ice vision - it's been a while since that episode, but then again, I also say that Bubbles is "fingering" the ribbon, too. But since Blossom was certainly capable of snapping her fingers...then there must be fingers to snap, right? Call it artistic license and the onset of puberty if some things are a bit noncanon, OK?
Responses to reviews:
samantha - Yes, I agree, there have been many signs that Bubbles is not an airhead. I won't say anything as to the way her sisters are because I don't want to give anything away - if there turns out to be anything to give away later on.
Autumn Leaves - I really had written this with the intent of having multiple chapters, and the reason that I was able to post the second chapter so quickly is because I have about three chapters in rough draft form, but I wasn't sure if the story was leaning more towards an R than a PG-13. I'm glad you agreed that it works well as a stand-alone, because I had hoped to have something that could go either way. I'm usually not one for angst, unless there is hope to go with it. I think it's becoming a trend in my stories!
Starship Gazer - I am more like Buttercup myself, I think. But I got to thinking that Bubbles, by her very nature, could be the most philosophical of them all. Glad you liked that line. Hard to believe I wrote it, being the Queen of Pessimism at times!
Ud the imp - I have a penchant for stories written in the first person, but it's often difficult to keep them in character that way. Glad you liked it. I don't think it's too OOC for her, though, because she is much older now. I will try to check out your stories this holiday weekend.
Hairy Gregory - You've summed up my thoughts on the whole adolescence thing - the most painful time of my entire life, I think. I like fluffy romance, too, because there's enough of the angsty stuff in real life. I'm very flattered that you gave this story a chance. I can't respond to anything else, because otherwise I'd give away my plans for the end of this thing!
BBubblehead33 - well, I actually experimented with the POV this time around, because it might come in handy later on, but I'm not sure if it works this way. I felt it best conveyed Bubbles' thoughts if it were written in first person. I know a lot of people hate changing POV stories, so I guess I'll have to see how this is received and how the rest of the story plays out. Thanks for the feedback.
cerberus5550 - I probably shouldn't post this next chapter so quickly, because I only have about three chapters written so far, which is why I wanted to just post the first chapter. I haven't ever done a story that wasn't finished before I posted it, but there's a first time for everything. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.
Let me warn you - I hope this chapter isn't too confusing. I tried experimenting with a different narrative style, and I think it might be easier to read if I could use the HTML formatting to italicize things, but I have to make due with paragraph separations. The only format I have luck with uploading is TXT format. Not sure what I'm doing wrong.
As for the narrative style I used this time, you'll see what I mean.
~~~~~~~
Chapter 2 - A Watched Pot Sometimes Boils
/He put his hand on my shoulder awkwardly. "Bubbles," he said. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but I thought you shouldn't get your hopes up so high."
None of the guys had ever touched me before, and to have the first contact with any of them be out of pity was not to be borne.
I stood up, feeling my back go ramrod straight. "Hope is what makes living bearable," I said, and retreated to my room.
I didn't look back once to see if anyone noticed my abrupt departure. Just another day in my life. "The joy and the laughter" - my ass./
~~~~~~~
"Last night I sketched Butch in a dozen different poses, each of them seared into my memory. Butch, glaring at Buttercup. Butch, throwing daggers with his eyes. Butch, his eyes full of fiery lust...and...and...I was bawling as my pencil flew across the page, wishing that any of those looks could have been cast in my direction."
Bubbles sighed heavily.
"And then, in a rare fit of anger, I crumpled every one of them up and threw them on the floor. Of course, you know that I ended up picking them up again and smoothing them out. Into the Dark Portfolio they went."
Bubbles looked at her audience, a mangy looking teddy bear.
"This is pathetic, you know," she sighed. "I can't believe I'm sixteen years old and still talking to you like this." She gave it a watery smile. "But you'll never tell anyone, will you?"
It was more than pathetic, she knew, as she stretched out on the bed. The bear.
The bear had been Buttercup's. A few years ago, when they were in seventh grade, Butch had given it to Buttercup as a joke. She had shown what she thought of that joke by torching its ears and then throwing it at Butch before she started pummeling him. They had been going through their mating ritual even then, Bubbles realized.
She fingered the top of the teddy bear's head where the ears had been burnt off by Buttercup's heat vision. Bubbles' infatuation with Butch had been going on even before then. She'd glanced around furtively before retrieving the bear from the garbage, where it had ended up later that evening, when Buttercup decided Butch had had enough and had glared at him as she shoved the thing into the garbage.
Bubbles loved that bear, because Butch had gotten it. It didn't matter that the bear wasn't intended for her. She could always pretend. After all, Buttercup might have turned around and GIVEN it to her, because everyone knew that Bubbles liked cutesy things like teddy bears and unicorns. Bubbles tried to convince herself that had been Butch's intent all along. It wasn't really lying if you only tried to convince yourself, as far as she was concerned, and who was she to say what Butch had really intended? Boys' logic never made sense to her, so it wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that the bear had been meant for Bubbles.
The bear had been her silent confidante since then. She had kept it carefully hidden away. She didn't know how she'd ever explain to Buttercup where that bear came from. How many bears were there that had their ears burned right off, after all? When she wasn't writing in her journal, something she'd only begun the year before, the bear was there to hear her. It was dangerous, though, to bring out the stuffed animal, whereas the journal was rather innocuous. In her head, she talked to the bear as she wrote in her journal. Now and then, though, when she had the house to herself and felt confident that no one would come home unexpectedly, out came the bear.
Besides, at least she didn't get tongue-tied talking to HIM.
She heard voices downstairs, and quickly stuffed the bear back in his hiding place. She flopped back on the bed and drew the covers over her head. Maybe if they thought she was sick, they would leave her alone.
~~~~~~
I spent the whole day in bed. That's what I told my sisters. In truth, I was working on a miniature oil painting. I had to exorcise the demon in me. When I was finished, I felt better. Art has always been a release for me. I didn't really like to look at the work I'd done during my bouts of depression. Buttercup would have loved it, dark and foreboding and anguished. I really hated to create anything that didn't have some semblance of hope in it, but I guess the hope was present in me, the artist, and it would have to do.
Cathartic. That's today's word of the day. What a weird coincidence.
~~~~~~
Boomer thankfully said nothing more about their little conversation, but Bubbles did catch him throwing pitying glances her way. Part of her wanted to scoff at his infatuation with Blossom, in retaliation for his attempt to crush her flimsy hopes, but she just couldn't bring herself to hurt his feelings that way.
Unfortunately, the fact that he looked her way more than once was all his brothers needed to decide that Boomer had 'a thing for Bubbles.'
~~~~~~~
"Butch commented, rather loudly, something along the lines of...if Boomer ever couldn't handle the weight of my breasts, he'd be more than happy to pinch hit for him. Except in much more colorful language and with rude gestures to accompany it.
"It HURT," she told the bear. "It really hurt. Butch had ignored me for so long, and then he only notices me because he thinks his brother is interested? And on top of that, he only noticed me for what I LOOK like? How does that make him any different from anyone else? We've known each other a long time, how could he treat me like that?" She wiped at the tears on her face angrily. She was glad they'd all decided to stop pestering her to go to the movies that night. She felt a little bad leaving Boomer as the fifth wheel, but on the other hand, it was his fault that she was receiving this unwelcome attention, so he had to deal with the consequences of his actions.
"Why did he have to keep LOOKING at me like that? And how could anyone mistake those glances as meaning...AAARGH! It was obvious Boomer felt SORRY for me, even though I made it perfectly clear that he didn't need to do so. But nooooo..."
She stood up and started pacing the room, glancing at the bear as if she were checking to see if he were listening.
"I mean, I wanted Butch's attention, but not like that. Be careful what you wish for, right? To think I wanted those lusty looks thrown my way. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if I thought...I don't know. If I thought he REALLY lusted after me, and wasn't just being a jerk about it because he thinks Boomer is - 'eager to get in my pants' among several other choice comments that he made."
She picked up her hairbrush and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the ponytail holder loose and tossing it on the nightstand before running her fingers through her hair.
"All of them think the same thing about me, you know. Ditzy, emotional, gullible," she ticked off the traits on her fingers with the hairbrush. "All true. None of them know how deep my emotions run, though. They THINK they do, but they only know that I'm the first to break down and cry, the first to laugh, and that usually my emotions are plainly written on my face. You'd think that would be enough, but it's not. No one understands me."
She set the brush on the bed and toyed with the frayed ribbon around the bear's neck, a soft smile gracing her lips.
"That's not quite true, either. The professor does. He's like me in that respect. I don't think Blossom or Buttercup understand how deeply HE feels things, either. When someone forms an opinion of you, it's very hard to change it, especially when everything they see tends to support their opinion." Her smile grew a little wider and she picked up her hairbrush again. "Hmm. Knowing that I have this in common with my father is the only thing that makes me feel like it's not a curse."
She hummed softly as she brushed her hair, winking at the bear as if they'd just shared a great secret.
~~~~~
A week after Boomer popped Bubbles' balloon of happiness, they were gathered in the living room, all of them sitting on the floor with their backs against the couch except for Brick and Blossom, who were playing chess at the table. Boomer was playing his hand held video game, Bubbles was reading a romance novel, and Butch and Buttercup were watching pro wrestling on TV, arguing over which finishing moves were best and who really deserved to win the championship.
~~~~~
I don't know when it started. Boomer was on my right, and at first, Butch was on my left. At some point, I started to feel all tingly. It wasn't the same as the way I usually feel when I'm next to Butch, though. I take that back; I DO know when it started. Butch had been sitting near me, but when they'd started arguing, he'd turned away from the TV and was facing Buttercup, who was on his other side. The two of them were gesturing wildly to emphasize their comments, and they were both as loud as always. It was the quiet that actually distracted me. I noticed that Butch was grunting instead of yelling to make a point, and I looked up at the two of them. And that's when I knew - I KNEW - that today was The Day.
Boomer must have noticed the intensity of my gaze, because he glanced up at me, then at Butch and Buttercup. Yeah, he'd still been giving me the occasional look of pity. I think it makes him feel better about his own little crush.
So here's what was going on. Buttercup was demonstrating one of those wrestling moves on Butch, and he managed to break free, flip her around, and trap her between his legs. She lay on her back, cussing a blue streak, as he leaned over her and crowed. Loudly. What a surprise.
Wait, it gets better. Brick and Blossom were OBLIVIOUS to the sexual tension that practically crackled in the room. Despite the fact that I still wanted Butch for myself, and that I was still hurting from his crude comments of the week before, I found myself whispering, "Go for it, Butch." Boomer looked at me oddly, but I didn't care.
Buttercup started struggling wildly, tucking in her knees in an attempt to throw him off. Butch just laughed, capturing her wrists and leaning rather heavily against her shins so she was effectively trapped by her own legs. She paused a minute, then did manage to kick him off her by extending both legs. Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case may be, Butch didn't relinquish his grip on her wrists, and as he flipped over, she went with him. They somersaulted several times on the ground before slamming against the wall. Blossom yelled, "Watch the rough housing!" but didn't look up. Brick glanced at them once, then returned his attention to the chessboard.
I was practically tearing my novel in two, but the romance unfolding before me was much more engaging than the printed version in my hands.
The two of them starting fighting in earnest, and if it were...an opera, I just knew this would be where the singing would get really loud, where the notes would be held for a long time, and the music would send shivers down your spine from the vibrations. I know that sounds stupid, but I half expected some kind of musical 'soundtrack' to start, to set the tone for what was about to happen.
I remember dropping my book and coming to my knees, leaning forward as if I would miss something. I felt Boomer move next to me.
I suddenly realized that, after Blossom's chastisement, that she and Brick were much too quiet, especially considering that World War III was still going on not twenty feet away. It's not like they were noisy when they played chess, but they carried on conversations all the time, and sometimes they tried to psych each other out. That background noise was gone, so I snuck a peek at them. Their eyes were locked on to each other's. Blossom's face had gone all soft, and Brick's hand had captured hers as they both held one of the chess pieces. Then her hand, with the chess piece (the horse, it will always be the horse to me because I have no intention of letting Blossom teach me that game) slowly slid out of Brick's hand and she placed the horse on the table. I swear it was like she was moving in slow motion. I hadn't expected THEIR relationship to take such a drastic turn, but that's probably because they were much more subtle in their mating ritual than Butch and Buttercup were. Boomer must have seen it, too, because I heard his intake of breath.
I returned my attention to the wrestling match going on. Buttercup was bucking like mad, still trying to dislodge Butch. She was wildly throwing punches and he was deflecting every one of them. One of her fists aimed right for his face, and he caught it. I could see the muscles in their arms straining. They both were staring at each other, panting from exertion, and I was squirming with excitement. What can I say, I live vicariously.
Without warning, Butch pulled Buttercup to him by her trapped hand and covered her mouth with his own, his other arm going behind her back to hold her up. She stiffened at first, frozen in his embrace. His free hand caressed the back of her head, and she visibly relaxed. Her body actually seemed to melt against his, and she started kissing him back. Tears ran freely down my face as I watched the two of them give in to the passion that had plagued them for so long. They just looked so right together. It hurt, but I knew that I had needed to see it, to see how damn perfect they were for each other. I ducked back behind the couch and sniffed. I guess this is what they mean by "closure." Just because it was necessary doesn't mean it didn't 'hurt like a bitch' - only fitting to use one of Buttercup's expressions in this case.
I had to turn away from the sight of the two of them, and that's when I noticed Boomer, who had moved back to his position with his back against the couch. His face was bright red, and he looked angry. I looked at him thoughtfully. It seemed as though he was going to just sit there in silence, processing what he'd seen between Blossom and Brick, but instead, he turned to me and laughed. He actually laughed at me, and it was a harsh laugh. I don't think I've ever heard him make a sound like that, not ever.
"I told you that you weren't his type," he said. The expression on his face was not pleasant.
Normally I try to consider why people feel the need to say things, even when they hurt my feelings and make me cry. Maybe it was because I was already crying, and going through a riot of emotions on my own, between joy for Buttercup and sorrow for myself, and longing for something like THAT in my own life...that I turned around and slapped him. Hard. A bright red handprint was on his face, and he looked ready to throttle me, but then he crossed his arms and turned his back to me, effectively telling me I wasn't worth the time or effort.
I got to my feet and left the room. With the 'love-in' that the living room was becoming, I doubted that anyone had noticed what had just taken place between me and Boomer, and frankly, I didn't care.
~~~~~~~
A/N Part 2:
I really debated on going back through this chapter and making it all first person perspective, in Bubbles' POV, again. I don't know whether this will work for the rest of the story. It's even possible that I might go back in and reupload this chapter if it seems that people find it difficult to follow. In fact, I uploaded Chapter 1 THREE times, all within a 24-hour period of time, and yet I had received some reviews for it in between each version. If you read it the first day, you might want to see what I added to the chapter, but if you don't, it won't affect your understanding of future events.
I was truly shocked at the immediacy of reviews. I think it says something about the PPG fan base. I do try to write something that I enjoy, and I will never threaten to NOT continue a story if I don't receive reviews. Now that I've added a second chapter, I'm pretty much committed to continuing it, because where the first chapter worked well as a one shot, the addition of chapter 2 has really made a continuation necessary. There's that "closure" Bubbles was talking about.
I don't remember which of them had the heat vision or ice vision - it's been a while since that episode, but then again, I also say that Bubbles is "fingering" the ribbon, too. But since Blossom was certainly capable of snapping her fingers...then there must be fingers to snap, right? Call it artistic license and the onset of puberty if some things are a bit noncanon, OK?
Responses to reviews:
samantha - Yes, I agree, there have been many signs that Bubbles is not an airhead. I won't say anything as to the way her sisters are because I don't want to give anything away - if there turns out to be anything to give away later on.
Autumn Leaves - I really had written this with the intent of having multiple chapters, and the reason that I was able to post the second chapter so quickly is because I have about three chapters in rough draft form, but I wasn't sure if the story was leaning more towards an R than a PG-13. I'm glad you agreed that it works well as a stand-alone, because I had hoped to have something that could go either way. I'm usually not one for angst, unless there is hope to go with it. I think it's becoming a trend in my stories!
Starship Gazer - I am more like Buttercup myself, I think. But I got to thinking that Bubbles, by her very nature, could be the most philosophical of them all. Glad you liked that line. Hard to believe I wrote it, being the Queen of Pessimism at times!
Ud the imp - I have a penchant for stories written in the first person, but it's often difficult to keep them in character that way. Glad you liked it. I don't think it's too OOC for her, though, because she is much older now. I will try to check out your stories this holiday weekend.
Hairy Gregory - You've summed up my thoughts on the whole adolescence thing - the most painful time of my entire life, I think. I like fluffy romance, too, because there's enough of the angsty stuff in real life. I'm very flattered that you gave this story a chance. I can't respond to anything else, because otherwise I'd give away my plans for the end of this thing!
BBubblehead33 - well, I actually experimented with the POV this time around, because it might come in handy later on, but I'm not sure if it works this way. I felt it best conveyed Bubbles' thoughts if it were written in first person. I know a lot of people hate changing POV stories, so I guess I'll have to see how this is received and how the rest of the story plays out. Thanks for the feedback.
cerberus5550 - I probably shouldn't post this next chapter so quickly, because I only have about three chapters written so far, which is why I wanted to just post the first chapter. I haven't ever done a story that wasn't finished before I posted it, but there's a first time for everything. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.