author's note: The song recommendation this time is Babygirl by Maeta
Saturday, Feb. 06
As it turns out, doing virtually nothing for days on end was actually very, very difficult.
At first it was awesome. That first day had been spent hanging out with Butch and then Boomer, who had come back just after Bubbles had finished the last of her pancakes. The blues had had a long, long conversation, their apologies over what happened at the docks intermingling, seemingly endless. Neither cared that Butch was right there, and afterwards the day had been spent mostly having fun with them, playing video games and watching Butch's dumb action movies.
The two had left after Buttercup had arrived home, with Blossom showing up not long after to run the boys off with her youngest sister. One look at her face, in the way her shoulders were taut as a bowstring with concern, and they knew she would be staying the night. Like old times they crowded together on Buttercup's guest bed, and though there was barely any space for all three of them to lay comfortably, they didn't mind.
They stayed up until well past two, finding new ways to lay around without disturbing Bubbles' injured leg. They talked about anything and everything, and it wasn't until Buttercup had fallen asleep in the middle of speaking, snoring loudly with her drool staining Blossom's sleeve, that they even thought about sleep. The other two weren't too far behind the youngest, either.
That second day was also fun. She went to her classes, finished up her homework, came back to her own apartment and played video games for the rest of the day. Boomer was out on patrol with Blossom in her place, leaving her without someone to play with, which was only a little bit of a dampener. She had plenty of single player games to choose from, but it was always more fun if you had a second player to trash talk, troll, mess with and just generally have fun with.
The third day was torturously boring.
None of her games appealed to her, none of the programs on the television looked worth watching, and all of her coursework was done. She slept more that night— twelve hours. Because there was nothing to do.
The fourth day was worse.
She was used to having a tight, busy schedule. College, patrolling, fighting crime and interning at the vet clinic usually took up all of her time and left her a mess, trying to force time for herself. She was caught up on her coursework, she had finished her interning credits entirely about two weeks before she got her leg broken, and her sisters were keeping her from patrolling and fighting crime.
The fourth day was far more hellacious than anything Mojo Jojo or HIM had ever put them through—of that, she was certain. She didn't know how to handle so much free time anymore.
Did she ever really know how before?
Was there ever really an extended vacation they'd taken?
Did she even know how to relax?
...That fourth day, Bubbles had an existential crisis.
At day five, she believed she was going mad.
It was when her boredom felt like it couldn't get any worse that it dawned on her—this was the perfect time to catch up on spoiling herself with self-care. She recalled the blueberry wine that she had stashed away in her fridge, hoping that her luck would prevail and there would be enough for two glasses left. One bath bomb and a few vanilla sugar candles acquired, she dug out her bluetooth speaker and smiled as she hovered to the bathroom. The blonde took her shower to get completely clean first, careful not to get her faux-casted leg wet so she wasn't lying in her own dirt when she relaxed in the bath.
She threw a towel on quickly and checked her phone. Nothing so far.
No calls, no texts, nothing.
While earlier, it may have driven her insane, now that she had an idea of what her day would be spent doing, she was glad nothing was there.
What a one-eighty.
Bubbles plucked her little book that was basically a collection of ancient poetry off of her coffee table as the tub filled with hot water. A Collection of Soulmates Through Time, the title read. If she was going to spoil herself and relax, she was going to get lost in the words of lovers long forgotten by time, and she wasn't going to hear judgement over it. Buttercup could kiss her ass—she liked the old romantic poems and the idea of finding her soulmate, regardless of the fact that it would never happen for her. Once the tub water was where she wanted it, she tossed her bath bomb in and turned the water off. She watched the fizzing and bubbling of the blues and violets, how the deeper greens and the brighter purples swirled out.
She couldn't remember what the bomb was, but it was pretty.
Bubbles filled her wine glass, lit the candles and turned off the main overhead bathroom light. She connected her phone to her speaker and set a soft, gentle background playlist to roll. She sat her glass at the edge of the tub, placed her book there, dropped her towel and slipped into the bath—careful to keep her faux-casted leg out of the water.
Ready to ignore the world, Bubbles let herself sink until her chin was under, enjoying the warmth enveloping her body.
When the purpose was to ignore the world in order to refresh herself, it was so much easier to focus on— and enjoy— the smaller things like this.
After a moment she sat up a little and dried off her hand, taking a drink of her wine as she lost herself within the well loved pages of her book—pages that held stories of lovers star crossed and forlorn, of permanent bands worn with such heartbreaking devotion around necks; tales of eternal vows spoken in urgent whispers under a sea of stars. Stories of their hearts beating in tandem with one another, stanzas so heartbreaking while whispering of their soulmate's passing, tales of the connection the couples would share, poems of the overwhelming love that they had felt.
With some, the translations were a little lost, but the emotion poured over her just the same. These made her yearn to seek out the original words, to find the originals she knew she'd understand regardless of language, to read the tales as they were intended; but, the next tale would distract her, pull at her heartstrings and knit together such complex emotions within.
Others held such tenderness and gentleness that it made tears sting her eyes, a sharp contrast to those that were so raw and powerful it made her breathless.
And then there were those that sparked images in her mind's eye.
Wild, wild, his eyes are wild.
Oh, such is my other half. Away, he would take me,
Through the rolling fields and forests of his eyes,
To the little pond in the clearing where his heart lay bare.
Like a doe, I drank from his waters,
They healed my soul and tied our lives;
He sprang from the waters like a beast to drag me under,
And that pond went much deeper than I had thought
But I found a new meaning to life there, with him
Being drowned, daily, by the embrace of his love in the waters around me.
The way his hair curled with the waves, or his eyes danced with the trees,
His love was in everything from calluses on his hands
To the softness of his voice when he touched me without touching
He cared for me the way no other did
He loved me, held me, saw me the way no one else dared
Even when I couldn't love myself, he loved me
And I will follow and love him until my final breath
Until time forgets our names and we are lost forever
But lost together
BANG BANG BANG!
The sudden loud noise scared the blonde awake, and she sat up sharply in the tub, her water sloshing around loudly at the abrupt movement.
"Bubbles, are you alright in there?!"
Her brows furrowed. Sleep and bleariness made her blink a few times to try and get a better grasp on the surprise sprang on her. Which led her to one very important question. Why the hell was Butch in her apartment? "Yeah, sorry. I must've passed out in the bath."
"Okay… Boomer and I've got takeout out here, when you're done."
The water was lukewarm at best but was realistically verging on too cold. How long did she sleep for? "I'll be out in a few minutes," she called back, her mind casting back. "You get to deal with my face mask, though."
"Yeah yeah, just don't drown, alright?"
She heard his footsteps grow quieter as he returned to Boomer in the kitchen, who grumbled something just loud enough for her to hear his voice, but not quite loud enough for her to make out what was said. The blonde pulled the stopper on the bathtub and stretched upwards towards the ceiling. She was careful not to knock over her empty wine glass and the empty bottle next to it as she hovered around the edge of the tub long enough for her right foot to touch the ground. She reached over and turned her speaker off and blew out her candles.
When her eyes landed on her book, carefully sitting on the counter, her blood ran cold while her face heated up brightly.
The door was shut.
The lights were on.
Her book was on the counter, not by the bathtub.
She covered her face with her hands. "…If there's a God out there listening, please smite me now." The whisper wasn't loud enough for the Ruffs in her kitchen to hear regardless of their superhuman hearing (hopefully, anyway). She wanted nothing more, in that moment, than for the floor to give way to a sinkhole that would swallow her alive. Her eyes cast back to the bathtub, her brows pinched in concern over what the boys had seen…
But she paused.
The bath bomb had clouded her water so much that she couldn't see the bottom of the tub. It was just enough to give her hope. Maybe, just maybe, they didn't actually see anything. Maybe. Hopefully.
Bubbles quickly worked through cleaning up the bathroom and getting everything put away. She wrapped her towel close to her when she peeked out of the bathroom door— happy to see Butch had at least shut her bedroom door before he went back out to the kitchen. She quickly tossed on her undergarments, a pale blue tank top and a pair of black and blue plaid pajama pants. She slid into her pale blue bunny slippers, and went back into the bathroom to apply her sheet face mask.
What?
She wasn't going to stop pampering herself just because there was a bump in the road.
Once that was done and securely on her face (also acting as something of a means to hide her face and embarrassment from her company), she tightened the towel around her hair and trudged, albeit a bit reluctantly, out to her kitchen to meet the Ruffs.
Butch was looking out her kitchen window, his body not facing her. There were several containers of various dishes on the table and a lack of drinks. There was also a very distinct lack of Boomers in her apartment, as well. And the longer she stood there, the clearer it became that he had no intention of turning around anytime soon.
She sighed. "Avoiding my eyes isn't going to make it go away, you know."
"Listen, neither of us meant to see you in the bath okay—"
"I know," she cut off. "I would like to know why you're here, though, and how you got in. I'm pretty sure I locked my door."
"Boomer." He finally turned around, though still pointedly avoiding looking at her. Her counterpart did know where her spare key was—so that made sense. "He went out to grab some alcohol."
She smiled, her face still red with embarrassment regardless of it being hidden behind her sheet mask. " …blueberry wine?"
"You are taking this a lot easier than I am." He sighed through his nose, shaking his head. "I feel like shit."
"Why'd you come into my room, anyway?"
"We couldn't find you and you weren't responding," he said. "If you were asleep, we were gonna leave you alone, but you weren't in bed. You were obviously in the bathroom but nothing was being said and it was eerie and the door was open and we were worried—just—I didn't… Ugh, I'm so fuckin' sorry, Bubbles…"
She looked at the worried pinch in his brow and, as embarrassed as she was, she couldn't find it in herself to linger on it. Butch never rambled. His embarrassment and stuttering was more than enough proof to her that this was anything but intentional. He joked freely about sexual and perverted things and made cheesy and pig-headed comments a lot, but he was never an actual creep. This only proved that even further to her. "How much did you see, anyway?"
"Nothing, actually," he mumbled. "I know you probably don't believe that, but the—"
"I believe you," she cut off with a wave of her hand, a surge of relief flooding her chest. "The bath bomb I used clouded up the water— I was hoping that was the case. As long as you didn't see anything too private, I can't say I care that much."
"It's still weird," he grumbled. "I've seen more skin from you at the beach, but there's…"
"You knew I was naked. Regardless of not seeing it, you knew it. That's why it feels weirder. Anyway, let's stop talking about my nudity?"
Finally his eyes met her own, and she couldn't help but smile at the rosy hue staining his cheeks. His lopsided smile was smaller than normal, but it was there. "…y'know, with you wearing that mask thing, I think I can get over it pretty quick."
She made a kissy face at him through the sheet mask and reached up into her cabinets for some plates. "Why did you and Boomer come over, anyway? I was going to pamper myself all day but you're forcing me to be a host now."
"I figured you'd be bored out of your mind. I couldn't stand being forced to do nothing when I broke my limbs."
She smiled knowingly at him, nodding. "Yesterday was hell. It was only after I decided to pamper myself that my boredom decided to disappear for a bit."
"We're busy bodies by nature." He sighed deeply. "What can you do."
"More work," she answered, inciting a mutual laugh. "Boomie is coming back, right?"
He scoffed and placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "Do you not want to see me? I'm wounded!"
"You said he had alcohol."
It made him laugh— so she counted it as a win. "Yeah, and Bloss Boss should be swinging by after she finishes up at her internship, too."
"BC on patrol?"
"With Boss today, yeah. I was thinkin' about forcing you into another movie night."
Once she had four plates down, she grabbed one and started piling food onto her plate. Butch followed behind her closely enough to be able to catch her if something went wrong while he made his plate— and the fact didn't escape her notice. "Forcing, huh? I guess they're gonna be more of those dumb action movies, then?"
Butch gasped loudly. "How dare you call the Fast and the Furious dumb!"
She raised a brow at him. "…You really expect me to watch that stupid racing movie?"
"It's not stupid!"
"Buttercup even says it's stupid."
He huffed. "Butterbabe doesn't know what taste is! It's not dumb. It's campy and fun, but not dumb. Ridiculous? Also yes. But Dumb? Dumb?! How rude!"
The blonde fell into a fit of giggles at his little tirade, her laughter only egging him to keep on.
Then, Boomer came back in just as the two took their seats at her kitchen table. His cobalt eyes met her sky blue eyes and his face flamed red. "B—Bubs, I—"
"You're okay, Boomie," she smiled gently at him, her cheeks just faintly pink. "Butch and I talked about it earlier. My bath bomb kept all my secrets secret." He had that same worried pinch in his brow that Butch did earlier, and she just shook her head. "You're okay, I promise. I thought Butch said you went out for drinks?" He flushed an even brighter red and Bubbles' knowing laughter echoed in the apartment. "You actually got blueberry wine?!"
"I—I didn't know what else you'd like tonight!"
Butch's deep laughter joined Bubbles' bright giggles and Boomer did not like it.
The blonde lass managed to pull her mirthful laughter back to smaller giggles after a few moments, completely unaware of the shades of forest watching her all the while. "It's a favorite of mine, so I can't be mad about it."
The blond Ruff mumbled something about embarrassment and feeling guilty about it when he grabbed a plate and sat the two black plastic bags on the counter. "I didn't know what to get for Blossom, so I just grabbed a variety pack of those seltzers you and Buttercup like."
"Strawberry anything. Is there a strawberry one in there?"
He looked at the box, reading the words. "Two? Three. No, six. Two types, three of each type. Strawberry by itself and strawberry mango."
"You're fine, then," Bubbles chirped. "So we're drinking and watching a dumb racing movie?"
"It's not dumb," Butch grumbled.
Boomer snorted. "It's very dumb. But that's the plan, yeah."
"At least there's alcohol," Bubbles sighed dramatically.
"Why are you two so mean to me tonight…"
The three eventually got around to eating and starting up the three movies Butch wanted for force them through tonight. Blossom had come over halfway through the second movie, grabbed herself a plate and sat next to her sister while she ate and watched. Apparently, Brick had already made her watch the entire series— so she already knew the broad strokes and the beats. Blossom, too, thought the movie was dumb.
Butch banked on the fact that Brick also liked the movies.
Bubbles ended up changing her mind about them, though. As dumb as they were (which they definitely were), they were just as campy and ridiculous and fun as Butch claimed. Maybe being prompted not to take it too seriously when she went into the movies also helped her opinion on them. Or, maybe, they were just fun to watch with friends. Boomer and Blossom both passed out halfway through the third movie— and Butch ended up carrying Blossom into the blonde's spare bedroom while the blonde grabbed a pillow and blanket for her counterpart to sleep more comfortably on the couch.
They met out on the balcony just outside of her room soon after the duo had been tucked in for the night. She'd wrapped herself in an obscenely fluffy bathrobe and he'd pulled his leather jacket back on for the moment. They could withstand colder— and hotter— temperatures than normal people, but even they felt cold as hell when it was so chilly and breezy outside. Especially since it had just finished snowing earlier that day. The little awning she had kept snow from accumulating on the balcony, not that it helped the chill any.
"I know you're probably tired of hearing it… But I really am sorry, Sweetcheeks. I didn't mean to just barge in and invade up on your privacy like that."
She leaned against the railing, her blue eyes on the moon just a ways above the horizon— bright and beautiful and lighting up the night. Butch soon joined her in leaning against the rails. "It's because you're genuinely apologetic that I say it's okay."
He hummed through his nose. "I have no idea how you're okay with that. I keep expecting you to clock me over the head or something."
"It's already happened," she shrugged. "What, am I supposed to think about it constantly, over and over, and let it eat away at me from the inside out? You didn't see anything." She paused, a genuine thought crossing her mind. "If you had, maybe my reaction would be different…"
"You trust that?"
"I trust you."
No hesitation.
She felt the gravity of his gaze on her, and like a magnet, she was drawn to meet his eyes.
He looked so soft with the warmth of a tender smile on his face. Those forests seemed so welcoming and trusting, the soft curve of his cheeks setting those eyes to half moons that made her feel like the most important thing in the universe. Her heart sped up without her permission, the galloping speed making her pray that he couldn't hear it. "…Thanks, Sweetcheeks. Means a lot to hear it."
She decided that she liked this smile of his the most.
