author's note: The song recommendation, this time, is a lyric-less song! Check out Sea Dragon by Covet, it's a very beautiful instrumental!
This is being posted a day early because I just got a good look at how busy my schedule is tomorrow- oops. That said, I am also unsure of if I'll make my Friday update, so that may be pushed out to Sunday instead? Maybe. I might end up missing that upload- my whole weekend is a little busy as well, but next week I should be right back on track! If I /do/ miss that Friday (or Sunday) upload, I will have an extra upload sometime in the near future.
Tuesday, Feb. 09
"Bubsy!"
Bubbles was in the middle of chopping vegetables when her front door flew open. She hadn't bothered to lock it in the first place, with her being home and doing just fine. The sudden opening didn't exactly startle her, but it did give her a mild surprise, and the voice itself was so recognizable that it brought a near immediate smile to her face. It wasn't too surprising that Boomer would come over out of the blue- he did so very frequently anyway.
"Boomie!" she called back happily. "I'm in the kitchen!"
"I've got Butch and Butters with me!" he announced. After discarding his jacket and shoes by the door, he ran up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest in a tight greeting hug. He did make sure he was on her right side, just so he wouldn't accidentally bump into her stint. He wasn't about to ruin the healing process for her.
She laughed at his sudden, playful assault. "Careful, careful— I've got a knife!"
Boomer laughed with her, still cautious as he kept her just off the ground like she was before he'd assaulted her with a hug from behind. When the signature aqua hue of her super energy surrounded her feet once more, he let go. "A knife can't hurt me."
"It can when it's in my hands," she retorted simply. Her sky eyes then cast to the living room, where Buttercup was already making herself nice and comfortable on the couch without a single greeting to her. As per usual. Butch, however, stood a little awkwardly in the kitchen walkway.
She offered a grin. "I thought I was supposed to be bringing food to you?"
"I thought so too," he chuckled. "But that part of Townsville is on a scheduled black out. They're doing work on the central electrical lines, so I couldn't work past sunset even if I wanted to. Totally forgot about it yesterday when we made the plans."
"Oof . Well, you're always welcome to a place at my table, Butchie!" She grinned happily, and in return his own smile grew lopsided at the nickname, ever warm with fondness. She opened her mouth to say something, when it dawned on her suddenly that everyone was there— everyone save for two fiery red-heads. "What, did the Reds not wanna come?"
"Reds have patrol tonight!" Buttercup called to her.
"Ah, right." She shook her head a bit, returning to her chopping. "I forgot all about it. I haven't had to go out in what feels like forever now."
"Lucky," her sister scoffed.
She rolled her eyes- not that the younger Puff would see it. "As if. I can't stand being so bored."
"It hasn't even been that long," she called back.
Bubbles made a mocking face and mouthed the words back, earning a snort from Boomer and barely contained chuckles from Butch. She grinned, feeling her sister's eyes on her back. She needed to speak before Buttercup grew too suspicious. "Yeah, well, I can get bored pretty easily."
"Do you want any help?" Boomer asked as he looked over her shoulder at the cutting board. Quick to save his counterpart from her sister's suspicions and possible wrath. "I mean we all know I've got two left hands in the kitchen, but Butch is a helluva cook."
"Oh yeah?" she asked as she looked back at him, her eyes alight with mirth. "He is, is he?"
"Well one of us Ruffs had to be able to cook somewhat decently," he chuckled, his cheeks pink. "Can't trust an ape or a demon to know what three growing boys need to eat."
"And let me guess, this was only after someone got sick from a lot of stolen junk food?" she asked playfully.
"You got it, Sweetcheeks," he laughed, completely surprising her. "Boom threw up from too many jerky sticks and didn't recover for three days."
At the mere mention and thought of those beef jerky sticks, Boomer's face twisted in disgust. "I still can't stand them…"
Bubbles laughed brightly. She had only been teasing, hardly expecting to be even half-right in her guess. It tickled her pink just how dead on she had been. "I'm fine. Thank you, though. I've already got everything in the oven, anyway. This," she motioned with the knife to the carrot and tomato she was currently cutting up, "is just for the salad, and I like to think I have good knife skills."
"I thought it smelled too good in here," Boomer mumbled.
"You tagged along because you heard it was lasagna night, didn't you?"
He laughed sheepishly. "Maybe?"
She snorted. "You know it's not nice to use your counterpart like that, right?"
"As if you don't use me for my drinks." He elbowed her side gently and she giggled. "Really, though, I need to borrow your ears tonight."
She turned around to face him, her eyes bright. "Did you finish the song?"
"I did! I want you to hear what I've got before I start finalizing the mix," he grinned.
The natural beachy curls in her ponytail bounced when she nodded eagerly, tickling the backs of her shoulders. One of the few times she wore it up in one ponytail instead of her usual low pigtails. "Of course! Were you using the new amp?"
"Yep," he agreed, popping the p . "Neighbors were happy about the soundproofing you gave me, too. Doesn't block it all out, but blocks out a mass majority of it."
"I'm glad it's working," she smiled.
She turned to lift herself high enough to actually reach the top shelves of her counter. Despite not being the youngest, she was, unfortunately, the shortest. Blossom was blessed with long, beautiful legs and a slim shape, looking every bit the leader she was at five feet and eight inches tall. Buttercup was taller by a few inches- at six feet tall- and was even more gifted with her height. At least they were around (and above, in BC's case) the general average. Bubbles came up short- five foot, four inches- and it never ceased to annoy her. Yet the only time she ever truly hated it were times like now.
When she had to use her powers to reach something in her own home.
Butch snorted when she grabbed the large bowl she was going to use for the salad.
"Say one thing about my height and I'll use your face to sharpen my knives," she cheerily called back to the Ruff.
Buttercup laughed loudly when he sputtered. Still in the living room, she turned the television on and started flicking through the channels aimlessly, barely paying attention to what was on the screen. "She'll kick your ass and you know it, Green Bean."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he shrugged off. "Wouldn't be the first time a Puff's kicked my ass."
"Probably won't be the last time, either," Boomer laughed. He moved past the younger- but taller- brother and jumped on the couch next to Buttercup. "The FIFA cup is going on, if you're into it."
"Even soccer is better than nothing right now," she mused, flipping through to find the channel.
Though her back was to them while she finished her chopping, Bubbles could still hear them loud and clear. "I can't believe you're using my TV to watch sports ." Her appalled tone of voice was teasing more than anything.
"It's better than constantly being used for your video game habit," Buttercup snorted. "Gonna rot your brains one of these days."
"As if," came the blues' echoed response.
A tender smile lifted the sides of Bubbles' lips just before she reached into her fridge to grab the other ingredients for their salad. Little moments like these were what she absolutely lived for. These moments where she could clearly hear Buttercup egging an argument out of Boomer about how Sports and Video Games have no overlaps (the blond growing frustrated because of how wrong she was and how she just wasn't listening to him), when they were able to get together despite all of them now living independent lives. They could still feel like family.
Like they belonged .
The acceptance felt by their groups when they actually relaxed together like this always made her the absolute happiest.
"Banana peppers?"
Bubbles startled, having not paid close enough attention to Butch to notice he'd come to stand right next to her. He gave a lopsided smirk with amusement written oh so clearly over his features while he watched her put the vegetables down. "Brick and Blossom are the only ones who don't like pickled things, right?"
"Yeah," he agreed. "But I didn't expect you to throw any sort peppers into your food."
"I do like spicy things," she said, her eyes narrowing playfully on him. "I just want the spice to have some flavor- not just flavored 'Hot' . Besides, banana peppers aren't that hot anyway- they're a lot more sweet than they are hot."
He chuckled and raised a brow at her, seeing right through her sass. "So you don't like things that are too spicy."
"Exactly," she laughed back, not even denying it.
She deftly cut the sweet onions, the cucumber, the celery and broccoli with surprising ease. She hummed contentedly as she did so, a tune he felt was vaguely familiar but couldn't quite place where he knew it from- or why he knew it at all. Boomer and Buttercup had all but faded into the background while they watched whatever two teams had played earlier that day. The re-run game held no particular interest to Butch—soccer had never been his thing.
Bubbles eventually made it down to just needing to wash and cut the cabbage and lettuce, that tender smile on her features the whole while. It felt like just yesterday, he'd watched this woman yell and fight through her pain with a sneer on her face and more power in her hands than he'd ever seen with his own eyes before. Now, that same woman who was still scarred from that day, seemed to be at her happiest with such a menial and domestic task.
It was such a polarizing experience.
The last week and change served solely to flip his perspective of the bubbly blonde on its head. He had always believed that somewhere within her, locked away within the depths of her soul, lay a wild streak, yearning for its chance to be released. As it turned out, he had never been more wrong in his life. It had never been hidden at all, had never been locked away like he'd so foolishly thought. It had been right in front of him this entire time, ever there in her words and the flutter of her eyelashes, in the way her smiles were all dimpled and her laughter like bells.
He had just been stupid enough to never pay attention.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, and he was a little disturbed when the first thing his brain supplied him with was aquamarines. In a blink the feeling was gone, barely having time to take root. He found that he couldn't be all that disturbed with how entirely fitting it seemed. Her eyes often seemed to dance with their own light—with their own life, and the longer he turned it over in his head the more natural it became.
And he really wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Was it supposed to feel this natural...?
"Are you just going to stay there all quiet?"
He blinked, his heart thundering against his ribs. Damn . He'd been caught staring.
Act natural .
"Is that a problem?"
Bubbles blinked twice. "No? I guess not." She shrugged, raising an eyebrow. "I just thought you stayed in here because you had something on your mind."
"I also just don't like soccer all that much," he admitted, jerking his head back towards the doorway— where their counterparts were idly arguing and watching whatever game was on.
"Also, huh?" Bubbles leaned her hip against the counter and sat her knife down. "What's on your mind, then?"
"Little of this, little of that," he joked. His grin widened when she smiled widely at him. He'd already made things awkward enough with his staring and he really didn't want her to think something was up. "I wanted to ask if you still painted or not," he answered honestly.
Caught completely off guard, her eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "What? Why?"
It didn't escape his notice that this wasn't necessarily a positive response. Her brows were furrowed and she almost looked like a deer in the headlights. It unsettled him just how upset he was that she'd lost something she once felt so passionate about. He filed that information away for further inspection later— he didn't have time for it right now. "I was thinking about commissioning you to paint a mural on the inner shop wall sometime this summer."
She laughed a bit nervously. "I'll… I'll think about it."
He'd take it. It wasn't the right subject apparently, but they'd coasted through it without issue. He scrambled, mentally, looking for just about anything to change the subject to. Anything. He didn't need it to get awkward yet again... But, she had that covered, and he didn't need to mentally scramble.
She hummed just before she spoke. "That actually reminds me of something else I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh yeah?"
She nodded and started putting the salad together in the bowl. "I'm thinking about getting a motorcycle."
His brows shot up, genuine shock covering his face. "Oh, yeah?" She nodded at the question and he felt like yet again he was being forced to see the blonde in a new light. "Why a motorcycle?"
She looked over to see the curious smile slowly spreading across his lips. "They're best on gas mileage. I can't live forever without some normal transportation, but I really don't like the idea of something that feels like just a pollution machine in comparison." Her sky eyes returned to the bowl. "That and it's less dangerous for me than it is for a normal person. I'm much more likely to come out of a motorcycle wreck clean than normal people are, so most of the arguments against me getting one feel kind of redundant."
Her honesty was oddly refreshing. He was interested in motorcycles because they were badass and the bad boy thing to drive. She saw them as the best alternatives to gas hogging boxed vehicles, and while she wasn't wrong, it wasn't the leap he had ever thought she'd make, especially with more eco-friendly cars out there nowadays. Beyond that, her blunt honesty about the danger was probably what was most refreshing. "It's still dangerous."
"You ride," she countered.
His eyes met hers and he saw yet another facet of the blonde he never expected to see. He was fully aware that she was every bit as competitive as her sisters were- but he'd never seen it so boldly and plainly himself. Her eyes were narrowed, an ice cold dare for him to challenge her. Daring him to try and counter her point. Her eyes were no longer the summer skies he knew, but instead were frozen lakes threatening to drag him under and freeze his blood.
Challenge.
Competition.
Yet the only thought his useless brain could come up with was just how hot she looked with that glint in her eyes. Narrowed, daring him to come closer and test her.
Butch exhaled deeply and let it go for now. He needed to stop having such weird thoughts while right in front of her. "Are you asking me to teach you to ride?"
"Not necessarily," she started awkwardly. "It'd be nice for some pointers, yes… but if it's similar to riding a normal bicycle or a dirt bike, I know how to ride both of those well enough. It shouldn't be too difficult to pick up on." She was rambling, talking more to herself than to him. After a moment she seemed to realize that, humming softly before coming back to her point. "Everything I've read about them is a little daunting and I don't know where to start looking."
He hummed thoughtfully. "So you need a few smaller pointers and need to know where to look when you're buying one?"
"Kind of, yeah," she continued as she finished up the salad. "I want to know if you'll go with me to get one, actually. Make sure I don't get overcharged just because I'm not yet as knowledgeable about it, make sure I'm getting the right thing and I'm not being talked into a more expensive one on purpose, that kind of thing. I figure a mechanic would know the most about them, especially one who rides… And I trust you."
"Oh." It was the most lame reply ever, but he didn't have the brain power to think about it. His cheeks were warm, growing hotter by the damn second. Telling him that in private was way different than telling him here, out in the open, with their siblings in the other room and able to so clearly hear her. It made his chest tighten oddly.
"I figure it'd be best to wait until my leg is healed, at the very least. I know I'm going to be tempted to ride it, and riding with a broken leg sounds like testing fate," she laughed lightly.
She could feel his eyes as though their gaze held a gravity of their own in that moment. He was judging her and sizing her up, though why or what for, she wasn't entirely sure.
"Let me take you on a ride before you make any solid decisions?"
The genuinely imploring tone gave her pause.
The depths of the forest met the open warmth of the skies. Like the trees towering over the earth, desperate in their need to feel the heavens, so too did his want reach her; he wanted to show her something. Whatever it was, she didn't know- not yet. But he wanted to show her something. She was hesitant to answer, but she did, eventually, nod.
"Alright… I will say that my heart is pretty dead set on it already, so it may not change my mind…"
"I don't want to change your mind," he said simply.
That confused her, but she let it go. Something about the way he looked at her kept her from prying further. At least for now. Another soft hum left through her nose and she looked over to her timer- less than ten minutes left on the lasagna. Seeing so much time had passed, the blonde quickly opened the door to the oven. "This'll be done in just a minute, if you want to go sit in the living room with them?"
"I'll set the table," he countered, reaching just over her head for the plates.
She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Do you always have to be so hard-headed?"
She wasn't necessarily expecting all three of her guests to reply, but the chorus of three groaned ' Yes' es definitely answered her.
