The Painting

After the final bell, Buttercup wandered out front. She had no real plans for today, and she decided that since she'd been invited to Mike's she would go. She had to straighten her life out some time, and this late into the high school game her best shot was probably getting in at ground level through Mike, Bubbles, and their circle of acquaintances.

She spotted the two leaning against Mike's open-top convertible. Mike spotted her and threw his head back in apparent disappointment, though he smiled when he shook his head. Buttercup focused her inhuman hearing their way and heard him mutter, "Another five bucks I owe you." He slid across his hood and hopped into the driver's seat. Bubbles simply waved.

"Hey, guys," Buttercup greeted. Mike lit a cigarette.

"Hi, Buttercup. Coming with us?" Bubbles asked as Mike started the car.

"Sure. I've got nothing better to do."

"Well," Bubbles said, opening the passenger side door. "Hop in?"

"Should I take the back seat?"

She asked like she'd be a bother, but the old car was wide, and even the front seat was a bench seat; even the shifter was part of the steering column. It could comfortably seat three.

"Oh, I see. Too shy to sit by Mike, are we?" Bubbles teased. She took the middle spot and patted the seat next to her.

Rather than retorting, Buttercup shook her head in bemusemen and took the offered spot.

She did think of something to say soon after they started moving, though. "Mike didn't seem too happy to see me either, you know."

"I bet Bubbles you wouldn't show up," Mike said.

"But I made us wait and I was right and you lost," Bubbles said without missing a beat.

Mike laughed. "I'm used to it. I never win with you."

"Well, girls are unequivocally better than boys. Isn't that right, Buttercup?"

Buttercup just smiled and shook her head. Bubbles liked to throw out perfectly-pronounced larger words now and then to put people off balance. Her English vocabulary was nothing to Blossom's, but Bubbles had finer linguistic skills than she usually let on.

"Huh, if that's how you feel no wonder you broke up with me," Mike said. "Better be careful saying stuff like that or you'll have rumors of your own to handle."

"Mike, stop it!" Bubbles admonished in a harsh whisper, as though that would keep Buttercup from hearing.

"Stop what? I know Mitch's full of it and so is everyone who buys into his crap. People just want to bring you three down to their level."

"Well what do you want with us, then?" Buttercup asked, her typical snarl returning for the first time in a long while. It felt so good she almost overdid it.

Mike took a long drag off his cigarette as they stopped for a red light. "I don't want shit from you. You're people. Good people. I don't need to make you into something you're not. I sure as hell don't have to bring you down to feel good about myself. I always feel good about myself."

"Heh. That why you're slowly killing yourself?" Buttercup asked, nodding at the cigarette.

"Nope. That's because I hate the rest of the world."

Buttercup let it go and smiled. Little contact as she had, even she knew Mike better than that. Instead, she enjoyed the scenery. She rarely rode any more. She had, along with her sister, learned to drive (just in case), but that had been years ago.

Bubbles still seemed angry at Mike, though. Mike, of course, at least pretended he couldn't care less.

Buttercup didn't mind the silent ride much, though. She wasn't used to moving so slow so low to the ground, barring walking. It served to distract her from her various problems.

Mike also lived in the suburbs. This was a different part of town than the girls lived in, though. The streets were more rugged and were dotted around the edges will all varieties of home. These were certainly not cookie-cutter dwellings, and people's tastes varied widely in cases.

Mike pulled up to the curb beside his own home. His parents' cars were already in the double-wide driveway.

"Welcome to my oh-so-humble abode," Mike said. He shut off the car and hopped out, not waiting for the girls to follow.

"You've never been here, have you?" Bubbles asked.

"Nope," Buttercup replied, stepping out of the car. Bubbles twisted in her seat and held out her hand. Buttercup only hesitated a little before she grabbed it and pulled Bubbles out of the car. Her shin-length blue skirt slid easily across the leather seat. While Bubbles adjusted her clothes, Buttercup closed the car door.

"Thank you," Bubbles said. "Just follow me. His room's upstairs."

Indeed it was, but on the way they spotted Mike's parents. Bubbles offered a greeting. Buttercup just waved. No real introduction was needed. Buttercup was new to this house, but she was a celebrity in Townsville and most anywhere else in the world.

Mike was clearing a spot on the floor. It was cluttered with clothes, art supplies, and various papers. A small stack of paintings leaned against one wall. Others hung on the walls. One sat on an easel by the window, through which sunlight filtered by a thin shade entered the room.

"Oh, God," Bubbles spouted. She closed the door straight away and leaned back against it. "You didn't tell me it was one of those sketches!"

Buttercup smiled at Bubbles's reaction, but blushed at the painting. She hoped the sketch in question was from when these two were dating.

It wasn't explicit, but it was revealing. The figure at the center was obviously Bubbles lying on her left side, her head towards the right side of the painting. Her right arm draped lazily over her head, which rested at an angle. Her other arm was crooked so as to cover her chest, while her right leg and lower body bent forward to obscure the rest.

"Good God, what if somebody saw this?" Bubbles asked. "And I don't remember all of them in that sketch!"

The central figure of Bubbles was surrounded by various familiar faces in the background. Many of the villains and other corrupt individuals who had crossed paths with the girls were featured there, all looking menacingly or, perhaps, hungrily at the pure, defenseless, almost angelic figure in the center.

"Hey, I waited all summer for you to come by and put a stop to this," Mike said, unphased. "Besides, it's too personal for anyone to see. I was thinking of giving it to you."

"Me? Why would I want that?"

"Heh, I'll take it," Buttercup said. Even as she did she wished she hadn't. She had been thinking along the lines of blackmail, but her recent dilemma with Bubbles made her feel self-conscious as other things came to mind. Thankfully, the other two seemed to ignore her presence.

Mike had stopped smiling, now. "It's about your purity in face of the evils of the world, despite everyone who would bring you down if they could. It's a symbol of your goodness and strength."

"Yeah, and I'm sure if I brought it home dad would just love to hang it right on the mantle!" Bubbles retorted, sarcasm thick.

Buttercup tried not to laugh, even covering her mouth, but she failed. "Yeah. That's more of Bubbles's 'goodness' than he'd want most people to see."

Buttercup felt bad about teasing her sister, so she put her arm around Bubbles and pulled her close. "I think it's sweet. A little weird and creepy, maybe, but sweet."

"See? She likes it," Mike said.

Bubbles didn't pull away or tense up, but Buttercup felt awkward when she stared talking in that squeaky voice that foretold tears. "Those were our sketches, Mike."

"And this is our painting," he started.

"That's your painting!" Bubbles interrupted. "Look, Mike, that was from a very... A very special time for us. We've moved past that. Sometimes... I don't know. Sometimes I think you still obsess about it. It's not good for you, Mike."

"Umm, do you want to talk about this in private?" Mike asked, glancing at Buttercup.

"Why?" Bubbles asked. "We could send her to China and she could still hear us if she wanted."

"No, no, that's okay, I'll go," Buttercup said, trying to pull away. Bubbles grabbed the hand Buttercup had draped around her, though, and held her tight.

Bubbles took a deep breath and paused. "No, I'm sorry, Buttercup. I... I overreacted. I'm sorry to you too, Mike. I know that painting means a lot to you, and I understand what you're trying to say with it. I know you never wanted to upset me." While Bubbles was sometimes as quick to anger as anyone else, she was usually quicker than anyone in to try finding mutual ground and understanding.

"That's all right," Mike offered, clearly of the opinion Bubbles had nothing to apologize for. "I probably should have told you. Or at least warned you before you drug Buttercup along."

Buttercup spoke while she felt she had a chance, "Yeah, about that, maybe I should just get going? I mean, you guys have been apart all summer and--"

Bubbles stopped her, squeezing Buttercup's hand. "That's all right, Buttercup, really."

"No, no. I'm still so tired anyway. I should probably get to bed early." After a pause, not wanting the two to feel too guilty, she added, "Maybe tomorrow, though, huh?"

Mike smiled at her. "Sure, that'd be fine. If you really do like this one, I've got some more sketches and paintings you'd probably like." Looking at Bubbles, he added, "And I don't mean 'those' sketches."

"Sure, sure," Buttercup said noncommittally. "So, uh, what do you call this one?"

"Angel in Darkness."