Yup yup, here's the next chapter.

I got a request for this Green chapter, but I wasn't quite able to understand it. Something Buttercup going to the bathroom and Butch's mask falling in his mouth? Sorry, I wasn't sure what to do.

So, that aside, here's Chapter 11.

Buttercup squinted through her eyelids at the back of the chair in front of her. Groggily, she noted three things.

Her neck was really sore.

Her hand and wrist were aching.

Something warm was on the top of her head.

Neck creaking in protest, Buttercup pulled check off of her palm, and mass of black spikes accordingly fell off her head. Buttercup blinked in shock, ripping her face away from such a close proximity with the foreign object.

Once she was a foot away from the black spikes, Buttercup scowled at Butch's head. The jerk was still fast asleep and had apparently been using the top of her head as a pillow.

Oh, he's going to pay for this.

As punishment, Buttercup gave him a light (not really) tap (smack) on his cheek which didn't (did too) leave a bright red handprint on his face. Butch awoke with a start, hand flying to his newly acquired injury before he threw Buttercup an irritated and sleepy glare.

"What was that for?" he groaned.

"For sleeping on me."

Butch looked confused, obviously not fully awake.

"Eh?"

Buttercup sighed.

"Never mind, just know you deserved it."

Butch scowled, but the angry effect was ruined by him yawning wide enough that Buttercup would have thought he broke his jaw.

"You're mean," he mumbled thickly, before settling back into his chair to try to fall asleep again.

Buttercup stuck her tongue out at him before checking the time on her watch.

1:48. P.M.

Hm, I wonder if that's the time back in D.C. or if it's where the plane is now…where are we now?

Buttercup knew looking out the window wasn't going to help determine their position, besides, she didn't want to climb all over Butch.

Ah well, we're probably almost there. Hopefully.

A quiet, snuffling snore emanated from the slumbering Butch beside her. Buttercup rolled her eyes, and gave his curled up, sleeping form a gentle (rough) push (shove.) He flapped his arm around his back, trying to swat her hand away.

"Leave meeeee aloooneee…" he groaned.

"Tch, baby."

"I just want to sleep; don't be such a bitch all the time."

"…that's it, you asked for it."

Butch rolled his sleepy head over to see what he'd asked for – just in time to receive a reasonable punishment for his crimes (a whopper of a punch in the nose.)

"Ungh!" he grunted, hands once again flying to his injured face, glowering at the seething Buttercup.

"Dude! Seriously, what's your problem?" he hissed in pain, closing one angry green eye in frustration as he observed his fuming counterpart.

"You're my problem."

"Excuse me, can I help you?" a cold, unhappy voice sliced their conversation neatly in half.

Startled, Buttercup whipped her head around her shoulder to see an angry stewardess. Behind her, the row across the way was glaring at them.

"Erm, no, we're fine," said Buttercup in a hushed voice, realizing just now how loud they had been talking/punishing (punching.)

"Yeah," said Butch, his voice muffled by his hands which were smothered across his wounded nose.

"I see," said the cross flight attendant.

The row across the way rolled their eyes before snuggling back into their chairs, loudly whispering about the rudeness and inconsideration of young people these days.

"We'll be arriving in Japan in two hours," said the stewardess before stalking away to wherever stewardesses exist when not serving your every need.

Buttercup whipped around again to glare at Butch, who was still covering his face with his hands.

"Shut up!" she hissed, although much more quietly than she had been talking before.

"Oh yeah? You're the one who woke me up by slapping me, then you shoved me when I wasn't doing anything, and then you punched me in the face!"

"You were sleeping on top of me, then you were snoring, and then you called me a bitch!"

"You started it!"

"You deserved it!"

"Argh! You're impossible! I'm going to sleep!"

With that, Butch rolled over in a huddled ball to face the window. Buttercup huffed and faced the opposite way, furious scowl etched across her face even as she drifted back to sleep.

"Un?" questioned Buttercup through closed eyelids.

"Wake up, Snoring Beauty," whispered a soft, yet sarcastic, voice in her ear.

Buttercup blinked, turned her head, and promptly found Butch's face far too close to her own. She jerked away, and he leant out of her personal bubble, smirking.

"We're about ready to land."

Yet again, he had made her scowl.

"Don't ever get that close to me again if you value your life!"

"Hm, is that supposed to be threatening?"

"Hm, is that supposed to be funny?"

"Hm, is that supposed to be a comeback?"

Buttercup grit her teeth and contented herself with rolling her eyes at the jerk, who's smirk widened. The green puff chose to ignore this irritating fact.

Rubbing her eyes, she straightened in her chair, back aching from spending a fitful night in a mostly sitting position. Her mouth had the distasteful feeling of not being brushed, and her hair was ruffled in a awful bed-head that only a shower would cure.

Just get me off this horrible flying torture machine. And away form Butch. I promise I'll never ask for anything more.

"Please, fasten your seat belts," said an overly cheery voice.

Buttercup's scowl darkened. Bleh, it was too early to be cheery. And Butch was next to her

Butch + morning + cheery voices = pissed Buttercup.

Watch out Japan. If Buttercup ain't happy, then nobody gonna be happy.

Butch ran a hand through his spiky hair, waiting for the sharp jolt which would announce their arrival on ground. As expected, the bounce arrived, and Butch undid his seat belt, ignoring the glowing sign demanding he keep the metal clasped together. Psh, nothing ever happened after touch down. Butch had never been one to favor over-cautiousness, and he wasn't about to start now, no matter the dirty glares he received from stewardesses.

Once outside the crowd of people squeezing out of the plane, Butch stopped to recover sight of Buttercup, who had miraculously been able to stay with him. People running off planes are so pushy.

3:45 P.M.

Oh God. Time zones

*Sobs* I just want to sleep in a horizontal position, I'm exhausted, Buttercup doesn't give a guy anytime to get rest.

A swift glance at his counterpart confirmed that she too looked like a sleep-deprived zombie, freshly dug out of the grave.

Yup, neither of us are morning people. Er, I guess it's afternoon now…

"Let's go," he mumbled leading the way through the airport.

Buttercup gave him a dark look for being bossy, but didn't complain, for once.

How odd. She'd usually be all over me for taking control. She's more tired than I thought. Or perhaps she just doesn't know what to do. This is her first time in Tokyo, right?

Once they were out on the streets, he didn't have to ask that question. Her looks of wonder at the city skyline confirmed her rookie-ness to Japan. Tired light green eyes were dragging themselves all over the sights as they took a taxi to a hotel.

"Whoa…" he heard her murmur faintly.

Butch smirked and turned his gaze out the window as well, amused by her blatant admiration of this new city. The charm of Tokyo had long since worn off on Butch; too many memories of missions lingered here.

Confidently, he strolled up to the registration desk. He had been to this particular hotel several times, and he could truthfully say he was well-acquainted with the building's ventilation pipes, at least more so than he would care to be. Damn smoke bombs. Make life so difficult when you're trying to escape an enemy squad.

"One room, or two?" asked the small woman behind the desk, glaring pointedly at the Greens through her tiny glasses, one eyebrow perked in a curious question.

"Definitely two," snapped Buttercup. Butch's eyes widened at the horror of what the woman was suggesting, but refrained from saying something

"I see," grumbled the lady, seemingly disappointed.

Butch's upper lip curled slightly at the woman's interest in the matter.

Ick, now I'll have nightmares.

The lady handed them their keys and the Greens took the elevator up to the third floor, refusing to make eye contact. Wordlessly, they went into their respective rooms. With a sigh, Butch hurled his bag onto one of the queens, and flopped onto the one closest to him.

After a few minutes of simply lying there, face down in the bed, he rolled over to stare at the ceiling, arms spread out across the surface of the mattress. Finally, he got up, kicked his shoes off and walked barefoot to the bathroom to take a shower and brush his teeth.

I hope Buttercup has the sense not to go to sleep again. I already woke her up once, and I'm not inclined to do so again.

Muscles still aching from his long, cramped, and uncomfortable trip, Butch walked out of his room and across the hall to Buttercup's door, running a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake the moisture out. He knocked. When she didn't answer immediately, he folded his arms impatiently. A minute passed. Butch rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Man, this chick is so annoying," he said under his breath.

Driven by frustration, he pounded loudly on the piece of wood which was obstructed him. Obviously, he could have broken down the door with one hand, but he was under cover and couldn't drag attention to himself and Buttercup, so he had to stand in the hallway, looking like an idiot until she cared to open the door.

He grit his teeth, straining to hear the annoying female on the other side. He knocked again. Finally, his super-powered ears heard the pad of feet on carpet approaching the door. The lock on the inside slid open and was greeted by a scowling, wet haired Buttercup.

"Yes?" she hissed.

Butch shrugged.

"Just making sure you weren't going to sleep."

"No, I'm not asleep."

"Well, don't go to sleep."

"I know. I'm not an idiot."

"Well, that's news."

"Is it, pea-brain?"

With that final comment, she slammed the door in his face. Butch let out a hiss of annoyance, but walked back to his room to order room service, watch T.V., and waste time in general until he would allow himself to pass out on a bed.

Yay for the Greens! Their dialogue is probably one of the highlights of writing this story.

The Reds are my favorite, but in the beginning, they have to be so cold and distant. The Blues are cute, but they have to be distrustful and cautious. But, yay, the Greens get to be abusive and sarcastic! Such a relief…

Anywho, thanks for all your awesome blue bands! You guys are the best! *gives thumbs up and huge, shiny grin*