One.

Her first kiss was given to her by the Professor. It was a good night kiss, light as a feather on her forehead as he cradled her. She remembers he smelled clean; like soap, even, so fresh, so clean. He had just shaved and she pressed her cheek against his shirt, inhaling the scent of the fresh flannel shirt – his scent. She swore she was in love. He hummed a lullaby and rubbed her back. He was the only one who knew that Buttercup had nightmares, too. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…" His voice echoed in her thoughts as she finally acquainted herself with a thing called inner peace.

Two.

It must have been a sign or something. Her second kiss lead to the downfall of the cynical Rowdyruff, Butch. It took all of the strength she had to place her mouth on the cheek of that malicious little boy, but she clenched her fists and shut her eyes tight and ran with the wind. She found that his skin was soft, but the second she began to actually enjoy the sensation of his skin against her lips – poof! And the Rowdyruff Boys were no more. Her sisters giggled about kissing while she wiped all remnants of that wicked Butch-boy from her lips and feigned disgust.

Once again, the day was saved by the Powerpuff girls.

Three.

Her third came in clusters. It was that Butch-boy, again. She and her sisters giggled as they flew up to them, slowly. They batted their lashes prettily before puckering their lips and then kissed them. They did not melt or explode or seem remotely wounded. In fact, they grew in size. She savored the sensation a while before flying back. Maybe kissing wasn't so bad after all.

Four.

Her fourth kiss was from Mitch. They were fourteen. It was a dare. He kissed her on the lips; they awkwardly tilted their heads to the right before leaning in. He pulled away after a little more than ten seconds and laughed. Her lips tingled and burned. She licked them to bring a little more moisture in. Buttercup tried to conceal her happiness. She liked Mitch so much and finally things – "Well, that was awkward!" he said, in that rough voice of his. "Good thing we'll never have to do it again, hm?"

Whatever. Boys were so overrated, anyway.

Five.

Her fifth kiss was stolen by a certain green wearing Rowdyruff. It came unexpectedly near the end of her third year at high school. The kiss itself was full of everything Buttercup detested: lust, malice, and hate. Needless to say, she engaged in it anyway.

After all, she was the type of girl that liked to fight fire with fire.

Six.

She thought her sixth kiss would be her last. It was from the Professor the hour before she left on the plane to go to college. He held her close to him. When they broke away, he kissed her cheek and she felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. "I love you, baby girl," he whispered. "Be safe."

Buttercup almost cried.

Seven.

Buttercup was the person to initiate her seventh kiss. It was not a romantic kiss, nor a fiery passionate one. It was a gentle, soothing kiss that was placed on the tip of her sister's nose. The fiery redhead had come home with her beautiful red locks – her pride – reduced to miniscule pieces of hair strewn around the place, barely reaching her chin.

She had not seen Blossom or Bubbles in more than two years. "This is a first," Buttercup sighed into her sister's hair.

"Do you think that he's safe?" Blossom whispered.

Buttercup let out a dark chuckle. She wondered where Bubbles was. If she was with her Ruff boy or if she was with her friends from college that replaced her sisters or if she was sobbing by herself in her dorm or if she was drinking herself into a stupor like Buttercup would be doing if Blossom hadn't arrived in her apartment, a mess. "You can't be safer than dead," she replied, finally. She rubbed her sister's back and hummed the melody to a song that she had forgotten, long ago. "In all my dreams dear, you seem to leave me. When I awake, my poor heart pains; so when you come back, and make me happy…"

Blossom let out a tiny yawn and smiled. "I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame."