Disclaimer: I still don't own anything. Not even my car. It still technically belongs to my parents…how sad.
This story started out as just another Bridge one shot. It then progressed into some Bridge and Z fluff, and then made its way to a senseless pornographic three way between Bridge, Z, and Sky, which can be read on adult fan (or can it?). But then after all was said and done (and written) I decided to take it back to what it had started out as, just another funny story about Bridge. Because really...what more could you want? (If it's that three way let me know.) muahahahahahahaha……………………
The Green Ranger sat on the edge of his bed alone and bit down into his fifth piece of toast that morning.
mmmmmmmmm….
The butter to bread ratio was just right, because you had to have the right amount of butter or else it just wasn't right, and it had to be butter, not margarine, not some country crock, vegetable oil, "churn style" substitute, because, yes, he could believe it wasn't butter!
He took another buttery (finger wiggle) bite. Yes, it really was the butter that made it. In fact butter went so well on so many things: Popcorn, dinner rolls, corn on the cob (and then it was all melty and you got to lick it off your fingers!), mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, pasta even! And of course you couldn't make most baked goods without it, cake, cookies, fudge…the possibilities were endless!
"Bridge!"
A sharp voice jolted him back to this reality. Bridge looked up from his perch to see the stern Blue Ranger glaring down at him.
"Welcome back." He said tersely.
Sky took in the anarchy that was his roommate's side of the room. No wonder Cadet Carson always seemed he was on another plane of existence. From the look of things he also lived there. His half of the room was like the bizzaro world to Sky's half.
On the right side you had a place for everything and everything in its place. On the left you had everything everywhere and if you could find something, well then congratulations! You have just finished your training in galactic search and rescue.
Cadet Tate again regarded his fellow roommate and spoke slowly so that the message he had come to deliver would be fully understood.
"Bridge…please…if you ever do one thing that I ask …could you please…"
"Tuck in my shirt? The Green Ranger volunteered.
"No."
"Chew with my mouth closed?" He tried.
"No."
"Uh…not use your socks in my sock puppet masterpiece theatre?"
"No…I mean yes…but no."
Sky massaged the bridge of his nose hoping to delay the oncoming headache.
"Could you please…" He knelt down until he was eye level with his constant annoyance, and pulled out a long silver object that Bridge recognized as his favorite butter knife,
"Please…" his voice took on that scary, quiet, tone that Bridge had come to know and fear.
"Please…" Uh oh. He said please three times! This was serious.
With as close as Sky was, Bridge could see the throbbing vein in his neck and the slight tick he was developing in his left eye…Hey when did that start? Because I'm pretty sure that last week when he was lecturing me about mixing my waffle batter using his shoehorn…shoehorn! Who even uses those anyway? In all honesty Bridge didn't even know what it was when he had found it in Sky's nightstand. But it worked well. In fact that had been a particularly good batch of waffles. The butter had melted just right filling up all the little squares and mixing with the syrup…
"BRIDGE!"
"What?" Cadet Carson refocused his attention on the man in blue.
"Did you hear anything I just said?" Sky was now standing with his arms firmly crossed. That tick in his left eye was getting worse.
"…Well?"
The Green Ranger nodded slowly and took a deep breath.
"You said- please, please, please, could I never ever leave my used butter knives on your pillow, because it leaves little spots that no amount of washing will get out, and requisitions just told you that, no, you cannot have anymore blue pillowcases, because no cadet is allowed more than five in one year, and where as most cadets only need about two in that time, it's only June and you've already asked for eleven."
Bridge met the Blue Rangers cold stare with a grin of satisfaction.
"Was that it?"
"Yes."
"Can I have my butter knife back now?"
"Yes." Sky used all of his control to keep himself from stabbing his friend in the throat with it, instead politely handing it back with the warning that if he ever found it on his pillow again, it, and his toaster, would be lodged so far up his butt that no amount of butter used as lubricant would help get them out.
"Was there anything else?" Bridge asked smiling innocently.
"No."
"Good because I think I might have a problem." His smile had turned into a furrowed brow of concentration.
"What is it this time?" Sky let his arms fall reluctantly to his sides with a sigh.
The Green Ranger considered the piece of toast in his hands seriously.
"Sky? What if it's not the toast?"
Sky Tate raised his eyebrow at his odd roommate.
"What?"
Bridge got up and started pacing in front of his friend.
"I mean we all love toast right? Who doesn't?"
Sky shook his head and shrugged his shoulders as if to say yes Bridge! Who in this world could possibly not love toast?
"But what if it's not the toast?" His voice hushed to a conspiratorial whisper, "What if it's the butter?"
Sky just stared at the Bridge. He's trying to lure me into that crazy reality he lives in, I just know it.
"I don't have time for this." Sky turned and picked up his laundry bag containing several blue pillowcases and more than a few socks sporting googley eyes and yarn for hair. Hefting it over his shoulder he made his way down to the laundry room. The upset Green Ranger followed.
"Really Sky, what if it's the butter?" He seemed genuinely distressed. "What if all this time I only thought it was the toast but it was actually the butter? Because what is toast really but a slightly dehydrated, crisped piece of bread? Butter on the other hand is so versatile! It goes on so many things!" Bridge trailed behind the blue ranger and ran down the list aloud
Sky cut through the common room hoping, praying, that someone else would distract his jabbering shadow long enough for him to slip away to the laundry room and wash his underwear in peace.
"…I just don't know what to do now. What would I tell Maureen?"
Z Delgado peered over the book she had, up until now, been toughly engrossed in.
She knew better. She knew that she knew better. But she had to ask.
"Who's Maureen?"
The blue and green duo stopped in the middle of the room. Bridge turned to the Yellow Ranger and opened his mouth to explain. Instead he was cut off by Sky who merely glanced over his shoulder to respond.
"It's his toaster."
Z blinked disbelieving at the two men.
"Your toaster?"
Bridge nodded seriously.
"You named your toaster?"
"Well yeah. Didn't you?"
Sky took this moment of confusion and used his naturally long stride to carry him quickly out of the room.
Z placed a slip of paper inside the book to mark her spot and then set her book aside. Turning her body she gave Bridge her full attention…as much as she may later regret it.
"Okay, so what exactly is it that you can't tell Maureen?"
"That I think it might be the butter."
"The butter?"
"YES! The butter!" Bridge threw his hands up in frustration and collapsed on the couch next to Z causing the ranger to bounce slightly in her seat. She repositioned herself to again face him and, as weird as it was, offer her sympathy. This was obviously causing him some distress.
"Okay," She said, as though starting a psychology session, "Tell me about the butter."
The Green Ranger's eyes misted over as though remembering a long distant past.
"Well it all started about 10 minutes ago…" Cadet Delgado opened her mouth to comment, but thought better, and let him continue.
"I was sitting on my bed enjoying a fresh piece of buttery toast." Z grinned as Bridges fingers wiggled in front of his mouth at the word buttery. For him it was a compulsive gesture, to her it was kinda cute and endearing.
"The butter to bread ratio was just right," he went on, " And I started to think how important that was," he turned to face her, "You know that you get just the right amount of butter on the toast so that it covers optimal surface area without getting so much that it makes the bread soggy."
Z nodded her head as though she fully understood the intricacies of buttering toast.
"Because what's the point of toasting it if your just going to go and make it all soft again by adding to much butter? You might as well have just buttered a regular piece of bread! Un-toasted! But then the butter wouldn't melt very well, you know, without the heat from the toaster…"
"Bridge!" she interrupted, "the point?"
Bridge shook his head slightly in an attempt to reorganize his thoughts.
"Yes, the point is I started to wonder, what if it's not the toast? What if all this time it's actually been the butter?"
Z looked into light blue eyes filled with anguish, and did her best not to laugh.
The Red Ranger, on the other hand, needed to work on his acting skills. Jack let out a rolling laugh causing his dreds to shake around his face.
"Are you serious?" he asked over his comic book.
A hurt look overtook the Green Rangers face.
"Yes Jack I'm serious."
Z glared at her self adopted big brother, her eyes glowing briefly. Jacks head suddenly pitched forward into the pages of Superman with a loud smack. He turned quickly to see who had hit him but there was no one there. With a smile of satisfaction the Yellow Ranger turned her attention back to the distraught teammate sitting next to her.
"Don't mind him, please continue."
Jack rose from his beanbag chair on the floor rubbing the back of his head. Obviously he was no longer welcome in this conversation. He made his way to the door but not without passing behind the couch, leaning down to whisper to Z as he passed.
"Bridge and Z, sitting in a tree, k, i, s, s, i, n…OW!" Another one of Z's replicates smacked the Red Ranger upside the head and chased him out of the room. Bridge seemed too distracted by his own plight to have noticed.
"…So if it is the butter what do I tell Maureen?"
Z pondered this dilemma a bit more seriously than she expected. After a few silent moments she looked up into the expectant face of Bridge and replied.
"Did you consider that maybe it is the butter," Bridge turned almost frantic. "But…hold on, hear me out." She said soothingly." Maybe the toast is just the best thing to put it on?"
A few more quiet moments passed as Bridge absorbed the new prospect. Z watched as his lips moved silently talking over the possibilities.
"So what you're saying is that, it's the toast that makes the butter?" His eyes finally lit up with revelation. Of course! It was so simple! Even if it wasn't the toast, the toast was still integral to the butter! You couldn't have one without the other…it would just be wrong! They were like peanut butter and jelly, Romeo and Juliet, computers and waffle irons! You had to have both or else it wouldn't be right!
Bridge reached over and gathered the Yellow Ranger in a crushing embrace.
"Thank you!" he exclaimed
The hug between friends lasted a bit longer than necessary. When both finally pulled away a blush had risen up to the Green Rangers cheeks making him look like Christmas come early.
"I should…uh…go now…and um…tell Maureen…yeah…" Bridge stuttered out as he rose from the couch. The Green Ranger made his way to the door but before he could leave the Yellow Ranger came up behind him.
"Hey Bridge…I don't have a toaster but, if you want to, maybe later, you could help me name my stereo?"
Bridge turned to look at her.
"I would like that…thanks." He smiled brightly
Z reached up and placed a quick kiss on his cheek causing the blush to spread even quicker. She then spun around and returned back to her book pausing only once to glance at her dumbfounded teammate and smile. Bridge floated back to his room and sat down on the edge of his bed. Turning to his toaster…
"Hey Maureen, you know that girl Z that I told you about?…………"
Okay so I added a bit of fluff there in the end so sue me!