NOT MY TYPE by katocchi


4. She's so fucking bossy.


"No, Brick, a little to the left."

He moves the string of lights, but Blossom gives another dissatisfied huff. Holding her thumb and forefinger to her eye and squinting, she repeats, "A little, not that much."

Brick doesn't know why he bothered volunteering for Spring Fling set-up. His original plan was to sleep until the dance started. Take advantage of an empty house to nap without interruptions from annoying brothers because Bubbles and Buttercup being roped into helping meant Boomer and Butch were too.

Unlike them, Brick is blissfully unattached. No obligations that come with being a simp—uh, boyfriend—like Boomer. No owing the Puffs favors like Butch. As soon as the school bell rang, he was ready to drive home and jump into bed, but then Blossom cornered him at his stupidly placed locker, turned to him with those stupidly bright eyes, asked him to come along with a stupidly soft Please, and well. Here he is. Fuck.

He lowers himself onto the ladder, top rung several feet too short for Blossom's ambitious vision of ceiling-hung vines and fairy lights.

"It's supposed to be a botanical garden," she said earlier. In front of them was a concept board with flower walls, outdoor weddings, and Farmsville landscapes. "I want to mimic the sunset."

"But why?"

"The sky is beautiful at that time, don't you think? Have you ever flown during sundown? Looked at the clouds and wanted to melt into them?"

"The first part, yes. The second, no."

She shrugged, then released her shoulders with a wistful sigh. "I dunno, I think it's romantic."

Which is an admission he'd expect from Bubbles, but coming from Blossom, he suddenly has an urge to bottle up the hues of the sky. Maybe wrangle the floating rock of fire straight into the gymnasium. He's not alone in the feeling; everyone's trying their best to replicate Blossom's mental image.

Across the gym, Bubbles and Robin arrange the photo wall with lights and drapes that look too expensive for their high school budget. Their heads are bent as they giggle about something or another; they're good at finding humor in the most mundane things. Completely in their element, he notes, impressed by their work so far. Not far from them, Boomer carries flowers in by the armful, zipping through the open doors with Mitch's cart wheeling in more behind him. Butch helps Ms. Keane set up the front desk for sign-ins, face scrunched in focus as he tries not to swear in front of their favorite teacher. She keeps asking if he needs to use the bathroom, though. By the stage, Buttercup fiddles with wires and lets out a whoop! once the system finally starts. Other students flutter about, but he doesn't care enough to know their names or what they're doing.

"There's more to put up, Brick, so can you finish that one faster?" Blossom pauses, then adds a reluctant Please that rivals even Buttercup's spice.

He scowls down at her. Blossom looks so small from this height, a colorful bundle of copper hair and Mike's yellow sweatshirt. With her larger-than-life attitude and daunting reputation as Leader Girl, he forgets how short she is sometimes. How tiny. How young. How ridiculous it is that a group of six teenagers, superpowers aside, is all that stands between Townsville and total annihilation.

"Then tell me where to put it."

"I told you. Move it to the left."

"Like this?"

"No, that's too far; it has to be perfect, or else it'll look uneven."

"I'm literally—" he cuts himself off, nostrils flaring with smoke as he suppresses a frustrated groan. "Bloss, there's no difference. I'm barely doing anything."

"Try...going down a little? Agh, never mind, that's going to make the dance floor too bright." It won't, but whatever. "Can't you look at my diagram and try your best to match it?"

"Which diagram? The ridiculously complex one you made with a protractor, a T-square, and math equations? Or the completely unusable one that you scribbled with crayon?" He snorts. "You never graduated from Pokey Oaks kindergarten art class, huh?"

"First of all," she says with an indignant foot stomp, "it's colored pencil."

"That doesn't even matter!" Brick drags a palm down his face with another groan. "Listen, if you wanna nitpick so bad, why don't you do it, huh?"

It's a rhetorical question; he knows she can't. With one more muttered Woe is me, Brick turns the fairy-light woven garland in his hands, getting ready to fly off the ladder again. His shoes have barely lifted off when he hears Blossom snap:

"Fine, I will."

His head whips to her. Spine straight, she eyes his position on the top rung with the Get ready to eat your words, Brick look he knows too well. Defiant, challenging, and gets his blood pumping for a fight, but now is not the time.

What happens first: the sound of glass shattering against the gym floor once he drops the lights, or the sound of Blossom's squeak as he darts towards her, clamping down on both her shoulders with a rumbling snarl? He barely registers everyone's surprise, barely registers how quickly the noise fades into silence, as he gets in Blossom's face.

"Absolutely not." His near-growl is accompanied by a glare. Brows furrowed, her own glare mirrors his intensity, and he swears her eyes flicker between pink and red as she fights back laser eyes. "You're on strict no-fly orders until you recover."

She scoffs, releasing a few flurries from her mouth. "Never thought I'd see the day when I'd be lectured by a Rowdyruff on following the rules. What was your response to me in the past? 'Rules are made to be broken'?"

"That applied to petty shit—"

"Like petty crime? Stealing from banks? Bullying others? Physical assault?" Her ice breath is coming out in earnest now. "Breaking into businesses? Causing mayhem? Destroying the town? World domination?"

"—not to doctor's orders," he finishes, bristling at her jabs. Fire is on the tip of his tongue, but she's frustrated and tired. He gets it. Not being able to fly is disorienting. It comes as easy as breathing, something they don't have to think about until it's suddenly not an option anymore. Losing the freedom that comes with flying, it's like going through withdraws. "Just stay here. Keep telling me what to do, and I'll get it done. I'm here to help. We all are, okay?"

She glances around, suddenly aware of the eyes on them. From the stage, Buttercup shoots her a thumbs-up while Bubbles floats over with two carnations. It's a splash of blush pink that brightens Blossom's hair as Bubbles tucks one over her sister's ear. The other, Bubbles puts in her hands.

"You're stressed," Bubbles says softly, smoothing down Blossom's hair and frayed nerves. Blossom's fingers close around the flower stem. "You don't have anything to worry about. It's going to be so pretty when we're done, Bloss, I promise. Everyone's going to love it."

"I just want the dance to be perfect. It's the first time they asked me to lead; I can't mess it up."

"Not everything turns out perfectly, and that's okay. If things always turn out the way we want them to, life gets a little boring, doesn't it?" Bubbles snuggles into Blossom's arms. "You wanna take a break? Hm? Get some food and water?"

"But everyone else—"

"—will be fine." Brick tilts his head towards the door. "Things won't burn down if you leave for ten minutes."

"Unless you sneeze."

That's a dumb joke. It's not funny. His short huff of a laugh isn't because it's a good quip.

Blossom purses her lips before untangling herself from her sister and stepping towards him. "Listen, about what I said. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." He waves a hand in dismissal. "All of it was true anyway."

"No, I promised I wouldn't hold the past against you guys." She looks down at her hands, letting the carnation twirl between her fingers, and then hesitantly offers it to him. "I'm sorry. And thank you, Brick, for always having my back."

He plucks the flower out of her grasp and tucks it over her other ear. "If you really feel sorry, hurry up and go."

She nods, and as Bubbles leads her outside, chatter ebbs back into the room. Brick snaps at a nearby underclassman still frozen from the conflict. Poor kid's probably having flashbacks of a Greens fight. Butch and Buttercup have torn apart school grounds during their arguments, but he and Blossom have more control than that. Usually.

"Be useful and sweep this up." Brick gestures vaguely towards the strewn glass. "Who's the next person in charge? How do we get replacement lights?"

"Technically, Bubbles is second, and the third is Silas, but he's picking up extra supplies," the student says. They shuffle Blossom's drawings on the nearest table into a pile and pass them over. "You might need these."

He grunts in acknowledgement and flips through the sheets. God, these drawings are seriously on two ends of a spectrum. Still, he told her he'd do it, and he never breaks promises, not to her. Brick spins on his heel and raises his gaze—only to see Buttercup staring him down from the other side of the gym. At the eye contact, her lips curl into a satisfied smirk, and he doesn't know what to expect from the Green Powerpuff. He can guess, though, that with Blossom and Bubbles gone...

"Oi, Elmo, my turn to boss you around!"

"Oh, fuck off, Buttercup!"


a/n.

i'm actually a heathen who writes in ffn's document manager, so when the site had all those connection issues last month, this chapter was lost so many times. i'd try to save and then it'd time out and then i'd be left with five (5) words out of nearly 2k. but that aside! i like brick's dynamic with the girls. i like buttercup and brick antagonizing each other. i like bubbles being emotionally mature when blossom gets overwhelmed by everyone's expectations. i like blossom losing her cool sometimes and falling to her pride. i like brick pretending to not be worried about his not-girl. what do you like?

check out my tumblr (aerysian) for some nmt!verse headcanons i posted! will post more if people are interested.

next chapter: she has a fucking fan club. mar 15, 2021

aeris