Blue time! Oh, hee hee, for once, Blues were actually fun to write. I'd been planning this chapter, since, forever, so to finally get it out is a relief too.
OMG 100 + REVEIWS! :D Unbelievable, you guys blow me away with your epicness. Thanks so much!
Responses to a few anons:
Rose Petals: Thank you! I hope you'll find this Blue chapter satisfying!
YourBiggestFan: Wow! Your anon name and review certainly fed my ego! (Yum!) Thanks! I'm so flattered! Yeah…that would be unbelievably epic if it did! But, hardly likely :P I can dream though…
Hailey: Thank you! Glad you are enjoying it! Oh my god, that is an amazing Halloween idea! Buttercup, heh :) That should be a lot of fun for you guys… *jealous* Haha, no, it's cool, I'm just thrilled and honored to have inspired such awesomeness :P. Whoo, good guess on the villain! But, no answers from me, though I'm dying to give 'em…
Deeply concerned: Thanks! :) Don't worry, I will, this story is for all of you guys!
Brandy: Thanks for the song! I checked it out and yeah, it suits it well! especially a few of the lyrics into between the refrains ("Drowning conscience, I'm only human, Call me a traitor"):D Thanks for the tip! :)
Without further ado, the chapter. Enjoy if you can; flame if you can't! :P
Flashing lights. Shuffling cards. Warm desert breezes. Bustling crowds. Hookers a plenty. Extravagant hotels. Bleeps and beeps of slot machines.
Of course, world famous Sin City:
Las Vegas.
Bubbles cupped her chin in her hands, elbows on the window sill as she stared out of her hotel window at the hustle bustle of the city's renowned night life. It had barley grown dark and yet a very noticeable change had taken over The Strip. Every billboard glowed and glittered with electric lights, illuminating the finest hotels the world had to offer, themed in every era and style their extravagant owners could dream up. A castle, A pyramid, Paris, New York, forbidden Asian palace, pirates – you name it, they have it.
Bubbles half smiled at the crazy view below her. Never having been to Vegas before, she was a little excited.
Earlier that evening, the Blues had flown in and, quite miraculously, booked a couple rooms at the well known Caesar's Palace. Granted, they weren't adjacent rooms, or even on the same floor – in fact Boomer was in a completely separate building, but considering that it was a Saturday, a last minute booking and an extremely popular hotel, it was indeed no small feat.
Bubbles glanced at her watch. 7:25. She straightened and meandered over to the full length mirror on the wall staring blankly at her reflection, mulling over the past six days…
After questioning and poking around the outskirts of New York for two days, they had made a quick flight down to Philadelphia. As they were viewing the Liberty Bell, (which Bubbles had puppy dog eyed her way into getting Boomer to let her have fifteen minutes of tourism) the two had been forced to scurry behind Independence Hall to receive the word from Sherry of Blossom and Brick's chase scene in Switzerland. Urgency restored, the two had parted for Chicago, where upon arrival they had been informed of Buttercup and Butch's escapade and interaction with the quote-on-quote zombie child. After perusing the Windy City for a day and a half, they still found nothing even remotely along lines of their brothers and sisters. Denver had been fruitless as well, so, continuing their hop west, they had arrived in their current location.
With a little breath of exasperation, Bubbles turned from the mirror and finally wandered over to the edge of her bed and sat down, glancing impatiently at her watch. Boomer had phoned her twice. Once an hour and a half ago, to tell her to make a quick run to the casino's shops and get dressed to be undercover, and then again over twenty minutes ago, claiming he would come collect her at her room, but so far he hadn't.
A few minutes slipped by, and still no sign of Boomer. Bubbles tugged irritably on one of her side curls, which loosely framed her face. Tonight, she had abandoned her traditional, bust-length pig tails and pinned her hair up in an elegant bun, with several long curls stylishly detached. Also for the occasion, and on Boomer's command to "dress it up", she was wearing a mid-thigh white skirt, a form-hugging sky blue halter top, white pumps, and glittery earrings.
She wasn't sure where they were going, who they'd be with, or even if Boomer knew, but she was eager to find out and hit the town.
Gosh darn it! He's a guy, how long does it take to get ready? Maybe he's doing something else…well, he could have the decency to give me a time…
As if on cue, two sharp knocks sounded on the door. Bubbles leapt to her feet and opened the door quickly to be greeted by the sight of Boomer in grey distressed jeans, and an unbuttoned dark blue plaid shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. He blinked and gestured for her to come.
"Sorry I'm late, I was…arranging some matters."
The blue puff smiled a little wryly and she caught up to him.
"No prob."
They didn't speak again until they were securely alone in an elevator. Boomer broke the silence.
"So tonight we'll be continuing undercover,"
Continuing undercover. Ah. Codename for "pretending to be together."
Bubbles mentally winced a little, remembering the awkward conversation it had taken to arrange their story among themselves. But, in the end, it had been all they could think of. The most they had to do so far was hold hands, fortunately.
"You ever been to Las Vegas before?"
"No," she admitted.
Boomer shrugged.
"S'ok. Well, I can't guarantee anything, but I'm actually hoping for something here. Vegas is a party town, that's for sure, and it would have an attractive vibe for our sort of guy, I'd bet on it."
Bubbles couldn't help but giggle. Boomer threw her a confused glance, before backtracking his own words.
"Yeah, yeah, 'bet on it,'" he gave a lopsided grin at himself before shaking his head and getting back to business. Bubbles was momentarily distracted, realizing how much they had opened up since their first awkward day in New York. The elevator gave a soft ding to announce their arrival at the lobby, and all Boomer had time to do was fix her with a hard, focused look before the door slid open and their couple masquerade began.
She gave a forced giggle as the crowded lobby came into view. Together, they strode a bit over-confidently out onto the Strip. Bubbles' heels clicked rhythmically against the dirty sidewalk, wafts of music drifting from a variety of open air shows, bars, and clubs. Boomer wrapped his arm in hers, flashing her a cocky smirk and pulling her quickly down the street.
Bubbles's heart gave a little flutter as he entangled their hands, but she shoved it aside, giving a loud, giddy laugh, fitting to the situation of a young girl with money to blow, a hot boyfriend in tow, and the prospect of a wild night in Vegas.
No! she chided herself as they hurried down the busy walk, obviously heading for a destination that Boomer had clearly in mind. No real emotions, Bubbles! Do it for show, do it for show…
In a brief period of time that it had taken for Boomer to whisk them off the main track and in line to a club dubbed "Kryst.*" A stereotypical buff guard was standing at the door, examining the I.D.s of everyone who entered. Bubbles watched as he gave each card a through inspection before grudgingly letting the couples, trios, and small groups to pass.
A few people ahead of them were two slightly zitty, gangly teenaged guys in baggy clothes and dark beanies. They were slouched over, talked in soft voices, and looked a little nervous. As they reached the front of the line, they handed over their I.D.s like all the others, but the door guard barely gave them a second's glance before throwing them roughly back down at the young men.
"Fakes! Get your baby asses outta here and away from here as fast as you can, you hear? No one under 21 getting in here under my watch!" the muscular guard growled as the scrawny teens scrambled to get away from the much larger man.
"Well, do you think you could tell us what we did wrong so we can get it right next time?" called one of them from a bit of a safer distance.
The look on the doorman's face was answer enough.
"Come on!' snapped the apparently smarter of the two as he dragged his cocky friend away. The two broke into a sprint and quickly vanished from sight.
Boomer snickered loudly and gave her a nudge in the side.
"Look at them go, heh, kids,"
Bubbles smiled and nodded, but an instant knot of worry formed in her stomach.
Uh…this might not be so great…21? I'm 15! Can I fake it well enough to fool Mr. Macho…? Gah, well, Boomer's an CIA agent, I'm sure he has top notch fake I.D.s…
The moment of truth arrived a few seconds later. Boomer handed over two slips of plastic. Bubbles casually looked inside the open door of the club, strobe lights and loud music spilling out. She returned her head just in time to see the doorman give them a gruff nod of welcome before handing Boomer back the I.D.s. Bubbles smiled broadly in relief as her fake boyfriend led them into the chaotic scene.
An impressively large room greeted them, with an even more impressive crowd. Strobe lights illuminated the nightlife picture before them, making it a bit difficult to discern any single body in the writhing mass of dancers. In a corner was a stage where four or five scantily clad girls with copious amounts of makeup were strutting around, dancing and… Bubbles averted her eyes from the degradation of her sex and noticed that the back wall was entirely a bar, lined with stools.
From her previous imaginings, it appeared to just as the puff had predicated a Vegas party house to be, although she may have underestimated the volume of the music a bit…it was almost deafening.
Boomer released her hand and leaned in so he could speak and be heard.
"Wanna dance?" he asked in a mischievous tone, pulling back away from her face so she could see his dangerously quirked eyebrow and tousled blond hair…
To her irritation, Bubble's heart jumped again. Nonono, no Bubbles, you did not find that sexy! Keep your head in the game!
"You bet!" she smirked with her best attempt at seductive.
However, actually dancing on the floor was not how she imagined it. It smelled of intense human, mixed perfumes and colognes, and unfortunately, some people who had forgotten to wear deodorant. She had no more personal bubbles; people stepped on her toes, brushed against her everywhere. She had a hard time keeping with Boomer, who kept getting sucked into the mass, almost like it was a living organism in itself, digesting and mixing it's human food in a swirl of chaos and a dose of pounding music.
After a few minutes, they managed to untangle themselves and rejoin at the bar, a little more rumpled, but no worse for wear.
"Wow, intense!" murmured Bubbles, trying to be a little more discreet. The overwhelming-ness of it all had dampened a bit of her fake over confidence.
Boomer shrugged, leaning backwards against the counter on one elbow.
"Yup."
Bubbles perched herself up onto one of the stools and propped her chin on her hand thoughtfully. She fake pouted.
"Soooo…now what?"
Boomer rotated himself over to face behind the counter. He casually waved over one of the female bartenders.
"What can I get for ya, Sweetie?" she drawled, giving the ruff a not-so-secretive look over. If Boomer noticed, he ignored it.
"Rusty Nail." Expectantly, he turned to the blue puff. "And you, Babe?"
For an instant, she just stared into Boomer's dark blue orbs, terrified.
What? I can't…ah! Drink name, drink name, come on, Bubbles, think!
She was stuck. The only alcoholic beverage she could think of was wine, which the Professor occasionally indulged in when an experiment went particularly wrong or when Buttercup had been exceptionally difficult that day…but Bubbles knew red wine was not something one ordered at a club in Las Vegas!
But, she thought fast and covered up her ignorance as apathy.
"Don't care; you order for me."
Boomer cracked a bit of a smile.
"Depends on how drunk I want you?" he snickered playfully.
Bubbles' insides squirmed and she lost a moment staring blanking back at him, strobe lights flashing colors over his leering face. Wow, uh, um, ah… Boomer, that was dirty…damn, didn't know he could be like that…
But, thanks be, her inner flirty actress sped to the rescue while her shy, blushing self cowered inside.
"And don't you know it…," she purred, leaning a little closer to brush his messy bangs out of his eyes with gentle, trailing fingertips. To her revengeful pleasure, his eyes widened, but he recovered even faster than she had, and Bubbles knew that the bartender hadn't been close enough to observe the blonde's shock.
"Well, then we'll have White Russian for the little lady."
Their bartender gave her a disgruntled look. For (what she convinced herself was purely for) their under-cover story's sake, Bubbles let a possessive smirk slide onto her face that any female easily translated to be "Good luck getting your hands on my man, Bitch"
"Yeah, sure thing," said the miffed woman as she stalked off to make their drinks.
As Bubbles glanced at her retreating back, she briefly wondered if it had been such a fabulous idea to piss off the person who would be making their drinks…ergh, her drink? She couldn't drink alcohol! She was, what, six years under the drinking age? What on earth had Boomer ordered her anyway?
But these hindsightful thoughts were interrupted by Boomer making a surprise appearance in her ear again.
"I'm going to snoop," he murmured so softly, Bubbles barely heard him over the pounding music from the dance floor, "Stay n' watch."
Bubbles nodded and he walked off down the bar, paying and picking up his drink along the way and disappearing into the crowd. She readjusted herself on her stool, large blue eyes sweeping the floor. What was she supposed to be looking for anyway? Someone shaking in fear in the corner? A little Asian kid following people around with their personal information?
The loud sound of sliding glass on hardwood announced the arrival of her cocktail. Bubbles looked up from the glass to the bartender, who was already walking away again. The blonde shrugged with a smile, still humored by Boomer's utter ignorance of the other woman, before addressing the glass before her.
It was full of a pale drink with ice and a layer of off-white froth on top. Slowly, she wrapped her fingers around the frosty edges and brought it in front of her for closer inspection. Cold wafted off the top of the ice, creamy foam sloshed around the brim. With grim determination, she picked up the chilly cup and swiveled back around to face the hoard of party animals. She didn't have to drink it - Boomer would be back soon enough, hopefully with a tip, and she would conveniently forget it somewhere…
The seconds passed, the music blared on, and Bubbles couldn't catch a glimpse of her agent cohort. Her drink was losing its chill rapidly; the puff adjusted it to the other hand, holding it casually to the side as if she was sipping. She snuck a peak to her left and right. A few stools down, some women were having playing a sort of drinking game with shot glasses of brown liquid. None of them appeared to be too drunk yet, but they were all laughing their heads off and having the time of their lives. On her other side, a young couple who were clearly intoxicated were making out heavily and running their hands all over each other. Bubbles grimaced a little and turned back in her seat, resting her glass once again on the polished wooden surface of the bar.
The ice cubes were smaller, the foamy layer on top had begun to disappear, and her fingerprints covered the sides of the glass. Fingerprints on the glass…her fingerprints…claiming the drink as hers. It was an inescapable jump of logic that Bubbles felt a little sick reflecting upon. How do I get myself in situations like this?...Wonder how much alcohol is in a mixed drink like this…
Almost subconsciously, but not quite, she raised the brim of her glass to her lips. How does it smell… The glass lip clinked gently against her teeth, and the smell of cream and liquor hit her nostrils. She had already guessed it had dairy in it, but really? When she thought alcohol, she thought…strong and sharp tastes, not dairy…how odd, I wonder who thought of it.
…I wonder how it tastes? Oh nonono, those are bad thoughts to have; I'm far too young! Too young to be here too…
She shifted her grip, and the melting ice cubes tinkled around. So innocent looking…it was probably mostly cream anyway. Boomer ordered it for her, so he wouldn't have gotten her something full of alcohol anyway.
Cautiously, experimentally, she took a tiny, delicate sip. At first, the nip she had taken was so small she couldn't taste anything. Then, a creamy flavor, a bit of coffee and finally a strong, bitter bite in the back of her throat as she swallowed. She swallowed once more in surprise and the tingling prick eased a little.
She lifted her gaze back out to the crowd, feeling shame, guilt, and…pride. Granted, she had promised herself she wouldn't drink it…but it's not like she was getting drunk or anything! And it was good to blend with the crowd…and, well! She was in a club in Las Vegas, on a secret mission to save the world! She could handle a little creamy drink!
Still slowly, she raised the glass to her lips again and took a bit larger mouthful. The after taste was a bit stronger, but so was the creamy coffee flavor. Bubbles deemed it passable, actually rather tasty, but she wouldn't drink all of it. It was still an alcoholic beverage, and she didn't feel comfortable with the idea of drinking the whole thing. Just a few sips here and there to blend with the crowd, to be a chameleon…
She returned her attention to the surrounding areas. She swore, if they ever finally solved this case, it would take an entire lifetime to break the habit she was forming to constantly search for oddities amongst people. Grimly, she took another drink, larger than the precedent two, almost qualifying as a swig.
Where was Boomer? Had he found something? Was he working his way back to her? Should she sit still and wait, continuing her duty as a look-out? Or maybe his absence was a signal she should get up and find him. Almost on reflex now, she took another swallow, the contradictory sweet and spiked flavors mingling deliciously.
A few more minutes passed…or was it more? The puff couldn't quite remember. Another sip of…this White Russian. Yeah, White Russian, that's what it was called. Man, it sure was good...not too much left though. Bummer.
She pouted at her more than half empty cup, before rolling her eyes and looking at the shiny rainbow colors of the strobe lights, blinking a little distractedly, when a male voice took her by surprise.
"Hey there, Beautiful."
She turned her head so fast, she almost fell off her stool. Now looking a bit more tousled, Boomer stood before her with just a trace of a smile. He gulped down the last of his dark brown drink before slamming his cup loudly onto the bar counter.
"He-ey," she trilled in a sing-songy voice, happy to have finally found him.
"Let's go, I got a text from a pal for us to meet him down the street."
A text from a pal…OH he meant a tip to check out some other place, yay! A clue in the case! Or maybe just another dead end, as always…ups and downs, this case had so many…nothing could be counted upon.
"Ok, let's hit this party!" she crowed.
Finish off this…drink, or, yeah, let's do that…
She drained the last contents of the glass in a large gulp, and the after burn of the alcohol was stronger than ever. Her baby blue eyes widened as her throat burned and she shook her head once in shock.
"Woo!" she coughed.
Boomer gave her a slightly concerned look, but quickly covered it with a short, fake laugh. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her away, wrapping his arm protectively around her shoulders to led her out. Bubbles followed happily enough, and instantly felt her head clear a little as they reentered the cool night air.
"So whadya find?" she murmured into his ear as soon as they were away from the crowd at the door.
Boomer's furtive glance and little half shrug told her more than his words did.
"Checking up on little birds..."
"Mm, ok," she sighed.
He smells nice…yeah, like guy cologne and clean shirt…
Cautiously, Boomer steered his tipsy counterpart into the new club.
"There ya go, Baby," he said gently as she settled herself on the floor, a little off-balanced, in a corner next to the bathrooms.
In reality, he was thinking: did she seriously just go and get herself tipsy while they were undercover scouting around?
But, if he was to be honest with himself, he wasn't truly mad at her. He was mad at himself. Because…damn it all, he had up and got her drink, geez, smooth move there, Boomer! She obviously didn't know how to handle it. But then again, how was he supposed to know she had zero alcohol tolerance?
He mentally facepalmed. Life hated him. It was the only possible excuse for his constant…bumblings! His entire existence was filled with, even created by these types idiotic blunders! GNAH!
But, even though on the inside he was ripping his hair out, he had to have the self control to get it together…pull yourself together, go question the people, and - you know what, screw this, I need another drink.
With hurried, reassuring words to the dazed Bubbles, he parted her company again and brushed his way through the crowd to the bar. Still feeling moody, he propped himself up on his elbows and swept the room with his gaze.
Pretty much the same aspects of their last location - dance floor, flashing lights, drink bar, strip stage, deafening music, - except with a more dangerous air. Graffiti was the only decoration, the party animals looked meaner, and there were far more drinks floating around.
"Can I get you something?"
Boomer turned around to face a grisly looking bartender.
"Vodka Martini."
"Shaken not stirred?" chuckled the man.
Boomer rolled his eyes, but faked a smirk for pleasantry's sake.
"Yeah, sure."
He left to make his drink, and Boomer thought back to the words of the man he had spoken to earlier. He was most obviously a crack head, but there was something in his words, in the way he spoke that made Boomer think he spoke a scrap of truth. Perhaps even he had been using the drugs to escape whatever horrors he may have seen.
"No, no, not again, don't let her near me again," the filthy man whimpered, curling into a tighter ball on the floor of the men's bathroom. Boomer knelt down on one knee to look the miserable human in the eye.
"Who?" he asked firmly.
"I don't know, I don't know, but…she made me…I saw THINGS…horrible things, I couldn't sleep for DAYS…she was in my head…" the man shrieked, now flailing his arms to emphasis his words.
"Where did you see her?" Boomer questioned, willing to go on anything the man had to offer. It was better than nothing.
"Down the street, man, down the street, Starry Vixen…don't go! Man, you don't wanna…"
"When, can you tell me when you saw her?"
But the man just shook his head a mumbled something about needing more money to get high. Boomer sensed that was all he was going to get out of this scum bag, got up, and walked out of the dimly lit bathroom to find Bubbles. This just might be the break they were looking for…
His martini arrived with a snicker.
"There ya go, 007, heh heh,"
Ironic. If only this man knew…
Suddenly, the thought of tipsy, judgment impaired Bubbles slumped in her shadowy corner hit him and he bumped past the dirty dancing couples to get back to her, not really worried though…she had only drunk a little, just enough to make her giggly, well, more than usual. But still, best not to leave her for too long.
She was right where he had left her, but looking a little miffed.
"Hey," he greeted her.
She turned the pout on.
"Stop leaving me alone, telling me to stay put. I'm bored here, can't I go somewhere?"
"Ok, ok, fine. Um, here, come on."
He switched his drink to his other hand, pulled her to her feet, and closer to himself. In a hushed tone, he murmured into her ear.
"Go, look around. You know what to look for. Find anything, anyone, come find me, got it?"
Bubbles nodded a bit too happily. For a second, Boomer considered taking it back. No, not a good idea to send her off in this state, but…nah, she'll be fine. It wouldn't take more than ten minutes to locate and talk to all the people he was interested in. What kind of trouble could she get herself into?
"Ok, go."
They parted and went their respective ways, and once again Boomer was focused on the mission at hand.
Phew, it's hot in here! Man…
She had wandered the front of the club for a few minutes now, and had no results.
Hmmm….if I was a psychotic mass murderer victim, where would I hide…
Contemplatively, she perched on the end stool, chewing on her bottom lip in concentration…
"Yo, little lady, something I can get for ya?"
Oh whoa, when'd that dude get there? Ninja people 'round here, shesh!
"Oh, I, ah…nooo, no, I'm good…"
Probably shouldn't…I already had one! Wasn't I not supposed to have one in the first place…?
"Ya sure? Cuz then you'll have to get up, these seats are for people who bought drinks."
"Oh, ok, fiiinee…"
"Well?"
"Oh, yeah, I'll have a…I don't know what it was called…"
"…"
"Could you pick one for me? I'm sure you know a great one, right?"
"…sure thing, sweetheart…"
"Oh, thanks so much, you're awesome!"
Whadda nice guy…
Just a few seconds later it seemed…possibly a minutes though, Bubbles forgot…the man came back with a pink drink in a pretty glass.
"Cosmopolitan for ya,"
"Sweet, thanks…it's so pink!"
"Yes, it is."
"Oh, I'll pay when my boyfriend gets back…don't worry, he'll come find me soon. Maybe you saw him! He's blonde, blue eyes, really hot, blue plaid over-shirt…"
"I - oh, fine, sure."
"Aw, thanks a bunch!"
Hm, very pink! Like Blossom! Wonder how this tastes…
Boomer had scoured the club from the bathrooms to the front doors. None of the druggies or regulars had a clue what he was talking about.
Yet another dead end…but, it's been ten minutes, so let's go get Bubbles.
He discarded his glass on the counter, but as he turned to walk away, a gruff voice stopped him.
"Hey, 007!"
With an internal groan, the blue ruff turned to face his new bartender friend.
"Yeah?"
"Looking for your girlfriend? She bought a drink and said you would pay, so, would you mind, please?"
Oh dear God, no, did he just say - did she, MAN!
"She bought a drink?" he repeated.
"Yeah, Cosmo. She had no idea what to get, but most ladies like it, so," the man trailed off, finally seeing the frustration behind the ruff's words. Boomer fished out some cash.
"Fine, here's the money."
"Ok. She went off to the dance floor, by the way."
"Thanks."
He shoved his way through the dancers, looking around frantically for blonde curls. He found her in the middle off the pack, nodding her head to the beat, curly golden locks flying around her face, large blue eyes clouded with alcohol and lips parted in a small smile.
For an embarrassing second, he was hypnotized by the bright colors flashing over her swaying form. Originally, she had been jostled and trampled in the dance crowd, but a few drinks had loosened her up and now she was lost in the music, the lights, the night…
Boomer blinked, regained his senses, reached out and grabbed her shoulder. She jumped, her half-lidded eyes springing open in shock, but after a moment, she recognized him and gave him a wide smile.
"Boomie!" she giggled, jumping at him and wrapping her arms around his neck. The boy fell back a step, taken by surprise. She was awfully close, he could see each eyelash, smell the alcohol on her breath…and whoa, damn, she just used his name!
"Hey, Baby, we need, to, uh…" desperately, he tried to pry her from him, unable to focus with her face so close to his. She let go with a twittering laugh, instead grabbing his hand and pulling him further into the dancing madness.
"Soooooo…" she hiccupped, "whadda ya find mister secretive, hmm?"
This was not good. Not good. Red alert. She was loose canon with her words, they had to leave, and now.
Why did she have to be inexperienced?
He grabbed her shoulder again and whirled her around to face him. Realizing she was far beyond subtle hinting, he titled her ear to his mouth.
"Bubbles. We need to go. Now."
Without giving her chance to protest or worse, he grabbed her hand and practically dragged her out of the club, and into the cooler night air.
Once they had escaped, Bubbles seemed to droop, and he was forced to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her standing. Desperately, he tried to ignore how good her small body felt pressed next to his…
Really, Boomer? REALLY? Focus here, gotta get her back. Get her back and away from me, I have to stop thinking like that…
But right now, Bubbles didn't seem at all concerned with getting back.
"Can we, can we go gamble?" she asked, iridescent blue eyes sparkling in the street lights.
"No, I don't think that would be a good idea…" he murmured as she stumbled and he had to readjust his grip.
"Aw, really? Why not?"
"Because…you're drunk." Boomer mumbled, giving up on hiding the truth, even though the words felt a little odd coming out. Of all people, he hadn't thought he'd need to say that to Bubbles, his sweet innocent counterpart…
"Really? I don't know…but you know? You're really hot…" she laughed a little too loudly. Boomer felt heat rise to his cheeks.
"Uh…thanks?"
She's drunk, she's drunk, she doesn't know what she's saying…
"Yeah, your smile. I like your smile…the real one. Not the fake one. I don't know how people ever believe you fake one. Cuz if they ever saw your re-al smile, they couldn't forget it. It's so…beautiful, it's natural. Like... organic, ya know?"
"…my smile is…organic?"
" HAHAHA yeah, like…it was made perfect and…hey, those billboards, do they look alive to you?"
"No."
Boomer shook his head in wonder at the powers of alcohol.
Together, they slowly made their way back to the hotel. A glance at the large clock in the lobby told him it was 11:43. Late enough, thank heaven, that they wouldn't be noticed in particular.
He deposited her in her room, assuring her that she really did need to lie down, before heading back down to the lobby. He had been planning on checking out the gambling tables with a fake date but he guessed now he'd have to do it alone…
First point of notice: She had a pounding headache. Bubbles was wondering why someone was manually trying to spilt her head with a blunt axe.
Second point of notice: Light HURTS. So, she closed her eyes, wondering why the glorious morning sun which she usually loved, was so intent on harming her.
Third point of notice: She was starving. When was the last time she ate…?
Fourth point of notice: She was still in her clothes from last night.
Question: What on earth had happened to her last night?
And there, she hit a black wall. Bubbles was stumped. Slowly, carefully, she rose off the bed she had been laying spread eagle on, stumbling blindly over to close the curtains which were the source of the horribly painful light.
Now shrouded in darkness, she could open her eyes again, but slowly, so slowly. Ah, her head hurt! So bad!
She spotted her white heels placed neatly in a corner by her door, but other than that her room looked the same as it had last night before Boomer picked her up…
Her eyes widened in realization as scattered scenes and details jumped back at her.
Impatiently waiting for Boomer to arrive, his honest smile in the elevator, their hands entangling.
The scrawny teenagers scampering away from the club, the horribly loud music, the smell of crowded human.
The chill of cold glass against her fingertips, it's creamy scent, sharp prick in her throat.
Flashing lights. Hardwood surface. A light buzzing in her head.
"…text from a pal…"
Pink. Very pink.
Beats of the music pounding in her body, her very essence, her soul…
organic…smile?
"Oh SHIT!" Bubbles screeched, instantly regretting it as the words seemed to spilt her skull in half. She sank onto the edge of the bed, one hand over her mouth and she realized…she had a hangover. Because she had been drunk.
"Oh no," she moaned, shaking her head slowly.
Did I ruin the mission? Did I do something horribly embarrassing?
After the initial shock had worn off, she lifted her head and spotted something that hadn't been on the table last night. A note and a slowly cooling box of Chinese take out and a few orange pills. A quick peek revealed it to be some soup.
Bubbles unfolded the slip of paper and squinted to focus on the words.
"Hey,
Hope you're feeling better. I came over but you were still asleep. I bet you're a bit hungover, so I brought you some painkillers and some hot n' sour soup. Trust me, it helps.
I'll call you later. Rest for now. :)
-B"
Despite her massive headache and other symptoms, Bubbles felt a small smile twitch uncontrollably over her lips. He was just so…sweet. Getting drunk last night on a mission, and he still went out of his way to be nice. It was moments like these that made Bubbles giddy with hope that she and her counterpart could be good friends.
With a sigh of relief and a silent, sincere thanks to Boomer, she dug into his offerings.
*Kryst - Tryst is the name of an actual club in Vegas, but I just tweaked a letter…never been (to any club for that matter, I'm only 15 too!) so, it was just for originality and believability's sake.
Wowow! Got ourselves a bit (cough a lot cough) of Blue-mance, hmmm? :D And a lot of POV changes…hope it wasn't confusing!
I like breaking the stereotypical, shallowness that surrounds the PPG, because I believe that Bubbles has a naughty side, one that can convince herself to drink! And I see the same sort of mostly unexplored character quirks in all the girls, and hopefully in this story I'll succeed in playing around with all of them.
Note on Boomer and his drinking habits/abilities to any people who wonder: By no stretch of the imagination would I say he is an alcoholic, but he has been raised rough n' tough, and often works on his own in dangerous, criminal situations, so I'd say it is perfectly reasonable for him to stomach a few hard core drinks.
WARNING: To all of my readers, especially people without accounts or who have not alerted/favorited the story! ::: After much thought, and helpful words from my reviewers, I have decided upon a new name for my story, one that pleases me more :) - " Clouded Minds; Fractured Souls" - I'd hate for anyone to lose the story in the depths of fanfiction because I changed the title on you without warning, so, this is a notice that by the next chapter, I will have changed the title to, once again, "Clouded Minds; Fractured Souls"
Reviews are yummy! Brick and Blossom need them to pret for…well, you'll have to wait for the next chapter to see!