A/N: Hello, all! Here's a nice, fluffy fic for all you blues lovers. I loved this show as a kid. And now it's SO prime to write blurbs and stories about. (Also, disclaimer: I own nothing, unfortunately.)

PS I'm going by Chicago's possessive rule with names ending in "s." Yeah, that means Bubbles's as opposed to Bubbles'.

Anyway, enjoy!

-Kazzyy

They were nine years old when it started.

She let out a startled gasp when she saw her precious Octi fall into the mud. Light blue eyes turned ablaze on the perpetrator, fists clenching indignantly. Frown met sneer.

"What was that for?" Bubbles demanded, bending down to grab her stuffed toy and wipe off the mud that had smeared from his big googly eyes to his tentacles.

Boomer smiled meanly. "I just felt like it." He crossed his arms and looked away stubbornly, as if blaming her for the entire incident. It wasn't his fault that she he made herself easy prey. She was practically begging for him to come knock her ugly doll in the dirt, what with her skipping and humming and twirling in the park. It was just all so girly.

As his boyish mind predicted, Bubbles didn't really appreciate his attempt at de-girl-ifying the area. She floated up to his level and poked him in the chest, a pout on her face. "But we're not even fighting right now!" She was clearly missing the point. "You should apologize." She seemed to think for a moment. "Please."

A snort escaped Boomer, scooting back and wiping his chest free of any cooties she had gotten on him. "Oh yeah? Why should I?"

She placed her hands on her hips. "Why shouldn't you?"

Boomer casually began to drift on his back, folding his arms behind his head. "That's easy," he scoffed cockily. "I don't like you."

The answer seemed obvious enough—she was a Powerpuff Girl after all. It was in his nature to dislike her. So why she suddenly furrowed her brow, eyes narrowing a bit, making her look like she was trying to figure out a math equation or something equally as dumb was beyond him. It was even more beyond him when her face lit up in some sort of realization. He pictured a little light bulb turning on above her bouncing pigtails.

"Yes you do!"

Boomer blinked, scratching his head. What was she talking about? Bubbles giggled and did a little twirl that would probably have made Butch hurl. "Uh… I do what?"

The blonde haired girl smiled at him. "You like me."

The simple statement was enough to make Boomer lose his balance and fall on painfully onto his rear. His eyes had widened to the size of small saucers and he was finding it difficult to stand up. Was she crazy? No… Buttercup was supposed to be the crazy one. This one must just have been really stupid.

"What?! No I don't!" He protested, huffing dramatically in offense. And boy, was he offended. She'd insulted his honor not only as a Rowdyruff Boy, but as a boy all together! Boys didn't like girls—girls were gross!

Bubbles continued to smile at him so sweetly he imagined her breath would smell like cotton candy. "But you do. You're pretending that you don't. The Professor said so!"

"Your stupid old Professor doesn't know what he's talking about—!"

Boomer was cut off as Bubbles gave him a rib-crushing hug. He didn't even have time to wheeze for breath before she started talking. "It's okay!" she insisted happily, as though she didn't realize she was hindering his breath supply. "Professor told me that boys are mean to girls that they like!"

"What the heck are you talkin' about ya stupid—oof!" His words were stopped once more when Bubbles dropped him rather unceremoniously. She patted him on the head before scooping up the rest of her toys that he hadn't managed to knock in the mud.

"I forgive you," she chirped. "Professor says that boys don't know how to treat girls they like—" Boomer winced "—and that they don't mean to be rude." She began to skip away, swinging Octi from her hand giddily.

He stood up immediately. "But I meant to be rude! I was trying to mess up your toys!" But the blue-clad girl had already flounced away. She was going to ruin his entire reputation. If her big blabber mouth got her idiotic logic around to anyone… if his brothers found out, he was dead!

There was no way he could ever… ever… like that…

Girl.

Boomer shuddered.

It was two weeks later that he saw her again. Needless to say, his bitter feelings hadn't changed. If at all, his indignation at her accusation had only caused him to assist his brothers further in the vandalizing of City Hall.

His spray can whizzed out the last drops of paint and Boomer crushed the can in his palm and tossed it in the ever-growing tin pile off to the side. He stepped back until he was beside Brick and admired their handiwork. The entire left side of the building was now covered in sloppy, thick red, blue, and green lines. Boomer made sure to match his smirk with his brothers.

"Alright, you dirty scoundrels, hold it right there!"

Boomer could practically feel Brick roll his eyes at Blossom's proclamation. The pink attired girl stood proudly in front of her two sisters, chest pumped out arrogantly, like one of those comic book superheroes.

Butch snickered. "You'd make a really terrible superman," he pointed out, motioning towards her vivid red bow.

"Hey, loser, shut up!"

Butch's eyes narrowed upon meeting Buttercup's. "I wasn't talkin' to you, idiot!"

"Yeah?!"

"Yeah!"

"Buttercup, we don't need another altercation," Blossom warned, her much-too-advanced-for-her-age vocabulary making her seem even more know-it-all-ish than she already was. Boomer was sure she planned out what she was going to say every day.

His eyes then trailed over to the blue-sister. Bubbles, who was watching Blossom try to break up Buttercup and Butch's verbal battle, caught his eye and waved cheerfully. "Hi, Boomer!" she sang out.

Boomer felt his eye twitch. Buttercup and Butch stopped their arguing and looked over in bewilderment. Brick cleared his throat, looking at Boomer threateningly, as if to say, 'Why is the enemy happy to see you?'

Well. Unsure of how to go about things without making them much, much worse, Boomer settled for giving an incredulous shrug and started to lift into the air. "What? She's a girl. They're weird."

Brick seemed to settle for this and nodded once. "Let's just get outta here. I don't feel like playing around with these weaklings right now."

"Hold on!" demanded Blossom, obviously insulted. "You three defaced public property!" She tossed her thick mane of red hair in an annoyed huff. "You'll have to deal with the consequences."

Brick scowled stubbornly. "Yeah yeah—why don't you girls go play hop scotch or something?" Boomer sighed, knowing that he wouldn't be going home anytime soon. He watched Buttercup clench her fists at the jab and then counted down in his head.

Three….two…one…

"What," the dark-haired girl began acidly, a taunting tone to her voice, "you afraid?"

Hook, line, and sinker.

Brick's mouth thinned and he pulled his cap down. "That's it—get 'em, boys!" In less than a second Buttercup and Butch were locked somewhere within a bright green blaze of punches and insults; Brick and Blossom carefully circled one another, each probably planning some sort of strategy before launching into a red blur.

Boomer blew a strand of hair out of his face and turned from the scene to face his own opponent…

…And was suddenly much too close to a pair of bright blue eyes.

Letting out an "ack!" of surprise, Boomer quickly composed himself, broadening his small frame to the biggest it could be and letting out what he assumed was an intimidating growl.

Bubbles just smiled at him. "It's okay if you don't want to fight, Boomer. I understand."

"Pfft! And why wouldn't I want to fight, eh?"

"Because, silly! You like—"

Boomer, panicking, shushed her loudly, eyes wandering between where each of his siblings were fighting timidly. He then glared at Bubbles as vehemently as possible. "Don't keep sayin' that! You make me sound like some big ol' sissy! And it's not true!"

Bubbles blinked a few times. She tilted her head in what some might consider a cute manner (but not him! He didn't think it was cute at all!) and snapped her fingers. "Oooh. I see." She gave him what she probably thought was a discreetly sly look. "You 'don't' like me." She giggled, making air-quotes. "I get it."

He felt his jaw drop a little bit. She wasn't letting up on this evil lie even a little bit. "Alright, blondie… now you're gonna get it!"

Whirling his fist around, Boomer aimed at her jaw and missed by a hair when she jumped back, eyes wide and… excited?

"Oh! You want to put on a show for your brothers, right?" Wait… what? "I can do that! I love to act." She cleared her throat messily until it became deeper and comically raspy. "You dirty, rotten… er, scumbag! I'm going to take you down!" She grinned at him—as though he ought to be proud of her performance, if you could call it that—and motioned at him to come at her.

If at any time in his short existence Boomer had felt like pulling his hair out, it was at that moment. He let out a strangled sort of sigh before jolting after her, tossing punches and kicks this way and that, but he was so disgruntled by what she thought and by what wasn't true that he couldn't actually get focused in on the fight. It was just a good thing his brothers were preoccupied or he would undoubtedly be getting mocked for his terrible aim. As if they didn't make fun of him enough…

"Oi! Boomer! We're heading out—finish Bluesy up already!" Boomer turned to look at Butch who had called at him, and who also was tossing a bright red bow between his hands while Brick struggled to hold both Blossom and Buttercup at bay.

He felt a small tug on his sleeve and looked over at Bubbles, about to snarl at her to let go. "Don't worry," she whispered, "I won't tell anyone." She then winked and grabbed his hand (he had to wash it four times when he got home—germy girls!) and began spinning the both of them fast enough to form a blue twister.

Boomer didn't have any time to think about what was going on before she let go and shot down—quite dramatically, actually—into the bushes, making it look like he had thrown her. He stared, dumbfounded, barely registering that both Blossom and Buttercup had cried out for her and stopped trying to get past Brick.

Shaking his head rapidly, Boomer quickly zoomed over to where his brothers were and they sped off faster than a blink. He unconsciously rubbed his hand over his jacket.

"Heh—nice toss back there, Boomer!" Butch laughed, amusing himself by unraveling the red bow until it was a long ribbon, which he proceeded to light on fire with his laser beams.

Boomer only grunted in response. He was more than just flabbergasted by the whole situation and simply wanted to get home and plan out a way to convince Bubbles that she had everything very, very wrong.

It only took another three months to get her to believe him.

They were fifteen when he got a new perspective.

Butch hurled his duffle bag onto the old couch, acting as a catalyst to the many creaks and groans released from the ancient piece of furniture due to the sudden weight. He immediately leaned back to crack his back and take a melodramatic whiff of the dust caking every inch of the vicinity.

Boomer rolled his eyes, clearing his throat when the dust kicked up from his brother's pack hitting the couch billowed around him. He went and tapped the leg of the couch with his foot tentatively. "We're gonna need some new stuff…"

"You would think perfect little Townsville would keep the apartments in better quality," Butch drawled out. "And, damn, without us here it's become the most boring place ever. How long's it been since we were even in this city? Two years?"

"Three years, five months, and two weeks, actually," hummed out Brick, who walked into the room with a look of distaste. Now it was Butch's turn to roll his eyes. Boomer couldn't help but agree. Brick, while still privy to their telltale violence, was not so brazen about it anymore. In fact, he had impeccable control in all matters of living now; precision and accuracy were his specialties.

Funny—that's what Blossom had claimed were her specialties before they left.

Of course, he would deny ever trying to be like her, but Boomer knew it would please Brick more than anything to best the pink-eyed leader at all she was good at. It was why he'd insisted that they get some sort of education, and as neither Him nor Mojo wanted anything to do with them other than attempt mass destruction, they had moved to enroll in a school that would give them private lessons, considering no teacher in Townsville would take them in.

It didn't take Brick long to pass every subject thrown at him—once he applied himself, he went through books like he was a starved man. Boomer would be the first to admit that he didn't have Brick's brains, and Butch simply didn't care about learning, so they stumbled along after him until finally they grew so sick of Citysville that they demanded to move back. Butch claimed that all of the citizens there were stiffs and that causing trouble wasn't even fun anymore. Brick consented on the agreement that Butch would be "good" enough to not ruin their chance on getting into the High School here.

Needless to say, the thought of more years in school hadn't pleased Butch very much. But, they were back, under strict jurisdiction of the Mayor. So long as they behaved, they could keep this apartment rent-free (Brick had turned over a lot of Mojo's blueprints and important documentation that they had stolen as compensation).

It satisfied Boomer enough. He knew they were getting too old to keep getting their amusement from causing crimes. In fact, before they left, the only reason they still caused messes around the city was to get the Powerpuffs all riled up. It was always an unspoken competition between the two groups. Each one had to be stronger, faster, better.

He sighed, knowing that it probably wouldn't be long before old habits started up again. Not to say that he didn't enjoy knocking those whiny brats around here and there, but now they had a place to stay.

Shrugging his thoughts away, Boomer heaved his own bag over his shoulder and piled it on top of Butch's. The couch let out more splintering creaks and then collapsed.

Boomer raised an eyebrow as Butch snorted and Brick scowled.

"First order of business," began Brick slowly, "is to refurbish this place."

"I saw a new furniture store when we were flying over here," Butch said slyly, the insinuation more or less dripping from his voice.

Brick looked at him dangerously, but hesitated. Butch's eyes narrowed eagerly and he slung an arm around Brick's shoulder. "Come on—we could probably scare the store owner's into giving us what we want. No real theft necessary."

Boomer resisted the urge to groan at this. "If it's a new store then the owners probably don't even know about us. Scare-tactics based on who we are won't help."

Butch glared at him. "When did you become such a kill-joy?" Boomer merely gave him a smug smile when Brick nodded his head.

"Boomer's right. However, going to look isn't such a bad idea. If the couch is this bad then I don't want to know what the beds are like."

"You guys are no fun anymore," complained Butch sourly as he opened the door. Unfortunately for him, he pulled on it too hard and it broke off the hinges.

"Aw, shit."

Boomer floated lazily in the air with his hands behind his head. He and his brothers had split up on their hunt for things to fix up their apartment with and he was currently taking a break, taking advantage of a sky free from pollution and smog.

He drifted for a while, letting his body relax in the air. It wasn't long before he found himself staring down at a park; big green trees covered the sandy outskirts and a blonde girl was swinging lethargically on the swing set—

Blonde?

It was an unmistakable blonde at that. Letting out a curse, Boomer immediately dove down into the trees before she had a chance to look up and see him. Of course it had to be her. Bubbles.

He hadn't expected to not run into one of his old enemies ever; but so soon? He peered around the tree at her, wondering if he should just back out in the direction he came from. After all, who knew what she would do if she saw him? Brick would kill him if he started a fight.

And yet...

He didn't take particular pleasure in being a bully like Butch did, but he briefly recalled how much fun it had been to taunt and mock his counterpart in days past; it was almost natural. And who could blame him? When he'd left they had still been kids. It would take more than a couple years to stifle the instinct.

Maybe he'd have a little fun. Just a little. What could that hurt?

In a flash he was out from behind the trees and on the swing next to hers. "Hey Bubbles," he began, tone polite and friendly.

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin, letting out an "Eep!" and shooting up into the air above them. Boomer resisted the urge to laugh at the reaction. Instead, he just smirked knowingly. She was still the scaredy-cat in the group, after all.

"Boomer?" She questioned, voice disbelieving.

"So, you've heard of me?" He raised his eyebrows cockily.

Bubbles drifted down cautiously, halfway getting into stance. It was then with a small jolt of something he couldn't quite place that he noticed she looked…different. She was, true to her nature, wearing blue in the form of a skirt with a plain white shirt. Her hair was no longer in pigtails but down around her shoulders in loose curls. He didn't know why this mattered.

"What…uh, what are you doing here?" she asked, landing gracefully in the sand, staring at him like someone in a museum would stare at a rather peculiar piece of art.

He leaned back in the swing casually. "Me and the guys moved back today. Citysville wasn't all that great." He eyed her nervous fidgeting. "I'm not gonna attack, you know. Not allowed. Brick wants us to be on our best behavior."

Bubbles quirked a brow. "Why, exactly?"

"'Cause he wants us to be able to get into the high school next year." He watched as her eyes widened and caught a flash of dark lashes. She'd started wearing mascara. Weird. So even the Powerpuff Girls put that stuff on their faces—though, hers was soft and not really noticeable. Not at all like those girls in the magazines Butch hid under his bed; the ones that had made even Brick turn the same shade as his cap when he first found them... and then demanded that they be burned.

It was interesting, how he and his brothers had made the transition—particularly Butch—from thinking girls were "icky" to thinking they were…something else. Butch could hardly walk down the street without drooling at any leggy girl he spotted. Brick considered them all distractions. Boomer assumed that he himself was somewhere in between. After all, girls were still girls. Even without the cooties.

"Oh…" Bubbles trailed off, crossing her arms. "The girls won't like that."

Boomer sneered a little. "Your sisters? Yeah, I wouldn't really expect them to." He snorted back a laugh as he pictured their reactions to seeing his brothers again after so long. Most likely they had settled into their own places here, being the heroes of the city and all. He found it amusing to imagine how he and his brothers would shake them off their pedestals—

Her face—close! was the thought that interrupted all others as Bubbles's face was, indeed, suddenly and alarmingly near to his own. Boomer reeled back in the swing, taken aback at the close proximity. He never really liked being in close contact with anybody; personal space issues, and all that.

"You're different now," she stated bluntly, examining him.

"Yeah?" he asked, a little rudely, lifting off the swing and distancing himself. "How so?"

She brought a finger to her chin thoughtfully. "I can't quite place it… but don't worry, it's a good different!" she assured in that sugary-sweet voice of hers that she used when they were six, as if she had hurt his feelings or something.

"Actually," she continued, looping through the swing and again breeching his personal bubble, "you'd be perfect for my photo-class!"

Boomer let out a grunt when she started to circle around him. This reunion was not at all what he had in mind. She didn't seem surprised or disheveled or even afraid.

She brought her hands up and formed a square with both of her thumbs and forefingers, tongue clasped between her teeth at the side of her mouth. "You have fair hair and skin and dramatic blue eyes. It's just the kind of look we need for one of our assignments. So angelic and pretty…"

Boomer scowled, trying not to let an offended flush spread across his face at the thought of himself being angelic or pretty. "I ain't no model, idiot!"

What was wrong with this girl? She was as weird as she had been when they were kids. He frowned further when she giggled, scratching behind her head.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, smiling kindly at him—why was she so nice?—and taking a step back. "I didn't mean anything by it. Honest."

He narrowed his eyes at her. Something was wrong with this picture. He, a former evil-doer, had just returned from, as much as she knew, an unexplained absence that could have been full of crime, and she, a still good-doer, was being completely civil. Even though she was the "sweet one," there had to be something he was missing … maybe she had improved her acting?

Doubtful.

"What's your angle?" Boomer found himself asking, suspicious.

Bubbles blinked. "Huh?"

He rolled his eyes. There was only so long she could play dumb! "Oh come on, you expect me to believe that you're not bothered by us showing up again?"

"Well," she started slowly, "as long as you guys aren't causing trouble, then why should I be bothered?"

Boomer opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then refrained from opening it again. (Brick had pointed out that he looked like an idiot when he did that.)

Before he could say anything at all, Bubbles gave a little gasp and pulled a small cellphone out from her skirt pocket. She looked at the screen once before grimacing. "Oh dear… I'm late for patrol. Blossom's gonna lecture me for an hour this time." She shook her head. "I'll see you later, Boomer!"

And then, quicker than a blink, she had zoomed up and away.

Boomer frowned grumpily at the blue residue left in the sky in her wake. "What the hell?" he asked aloud.

"What the hell?!"

Boomer watched Buttercup's face contort into an infuriated scowl as Butch's simultaneously became a smirk.

The green-eyed girl stood opposite of them, dripping wet, courtesy of a water balloon thrown far too accurately at her face by Butch. She had been in the middle of running drills with the rest of her basketball team on the outside court when he and his brothers had exited the school to go home. Actually, Boomer didn't even know where Butch had gotten that balloon in the first place…

"Sorry," snorted Butch, eyes flickering to the rest of the team; the players were all steadily backing away from a fuming Buttercup. "It slipped."

Boomer sighed and practically heard Brick shoot a heavy warning look to their brother. This was the fourth time in a week he had tried to set his counterpart off. It had been two weeks since they started school, and the tension between the heroine team and themselves was so thick a knife wouldn't even be able to make a dent.

Blossom had been tight-lipped and extremely unhappy about the unexpected transfer, Buttercup had literally growled in contempt upon first seeing them, and Bubbles had pretended that it wasn't a big deal.

If it hadn't been for Brick's strict instructions to ignore them, Butch would have ruined it for them the very first day. Boomer could tell his psycho of a brother was itching for a good fight, and since neither Brick or Boomer would comply with his demands, who better than his old opposition? Buttercup was hardly restraining herself from attacking them under Blossom's orders, and with Butch pushing each one of her buttons (which, incidentally, really wasn't that hard to do), she was starting to heed less and less to her sister's commands.

And so, here they were, on the street corner across from the court, looking at a sopping wet and very unhappy Buttercup. But, there was a problem this time. Blossom wasn't there to keep her under reign.

"Butch, don't even think about it." Brick's voice was like ice.

Boomer was fairly certain Butch stopped listening before Brick even started to speak.

"Slipped?" Buttercup spat vehemently, throwing the ball she was holding so hard to the ground it stuck in the cement, cracks forming and branching around it.

Boomer noticed Butch's hand twitching. Most likely in anticipation. The basketball girls had now backed away to the far corner of the court.

"Yeah. You know, it was an accident." Butch's smile was smug.

Buttercup's eyes blazed. "I'll show you an accident, bastard—"

"Buttercup!" All eyes turned to a blonde figure hurrying over to the scene. Butch's smile faded. "I, uh, need your help with something."

Boomer scoffed quietly at Bubbles's excuse. Ever since they'd arrived at the school, she had been trying to befriend them. More specifically, him. As in, she still wanted to use him for her photography class. Like that would happen. Actually, it was kind of funny to see her try and fail so repeatedly. She was just so insistent on being nice—it didn't really make sense. What was in it for her?

Besides, they had already made friends. Well, fans. But same difference. The point was, it had only been two weeks, and they were already more popular than… anyone. And it wasn't like she needed to boost her own popularity—the Girls were quite the topic among the guys of the school, much to Brick's particular disgust.

The point was, she didn't need to be friends with them, so the fact that she was still trying was mind-boggling to Boomer.

Buttercup looked at her sister and her hellish energy depleted a little; though, she seemed a bit annoyed. Boomer supposed that Buttercup was as crazy as Butch, being his counterpart and all, so she was probably looking forward to any excuse to fight as much as his brother was.

Unfortunately for them, Butch had no intent on losing whatever focus had been on him. He zapped over to the fire hydrant only a few feet away and placed a foot on it. "Hey, heroes, heads up!" And then he tapped his foot.

Of course, for one with super powers, tapping was the same as crushing, and therefore the metal of the hydrant was smashed open and a thundering stream of water hit both of the girls before they could even take a breath.

Brick, eyes furious, strode over and used his left hand to twist the metal enough to stop the water from spouting out and his right to yank Butch to the ground even as he cackled.

Boomer fought a small smile as he looked from his brother and then over to the girls—

His eyes widened slightly.

Bubbles appeared to have taken the hit more directly, as she was now on the ground. Except that it wasn't the fact that she had fallen over that had him speechless, it was that her knee-length skirt was pushed up in rolls of wet cloth, and that her underwear was very much exposed.

Now, it was true that he had heard many of the boys at the school talk about how the three girls were The Girls on campus, but he had never really given much attention to that fact. It wasn't even like they wore clothes to show off assets girls called 'The Girls' were supposed to have (probably because their dad was stricter than… most…), so nothing had been really eye-catching about them. Other than how they were also super-powered.

Until now.

Boomer could have admitted before this that Bubbles wasn't unattractive, but as his eyes unabashedly skimmed all the way up her long (and wet) legs, she was nothing but attractive. Oh yeah, and she was wearing a white shirt. Which was drenched. And suddenly rather clingy.

He swallowed.

And then Butch noticed. He squirmed away from Brick, who had just been attempting to strangle him, and took a good look at Bubbles' strawberry-pink underwear. The corners of his lips turned up lecherously, and his smirk widened when he saw Buttercup notice him looking.

"Hellooo…" he crooned, somehow avoiding Brick's grip once more.

Bubbles suddenly noticed what he was referring to and turned redder than a cherry. Buttercup also turned red, but Boomer was pretty sure it was more out of pure, unadulterated rage. If the smoke fumes nearly coming out of her ears were any indicator, anyway.

"Hey pervert!" she all but screeched. "Keep your eyes to yourself before I rip 'em out!"

Butch raised an eyebrow. "Jealous, much?"

Buttercup's eyes were flaming green slits; she seethed out anger from every inch of her being, so much that she was nearly shaking. Bubbles, on the other hand, looked absolutely humiliated.

Boomer tried to pound the images of seeing his counterpart in an appealing light out of his head.

This was not good.

"What's going on here?" A new voice cut into the mix: Blossom. Brick tensed.

"Nothing you need to worry about," he said curtly, grabbing the back of Butch's shirt and pulling him roughly to the ground again.

Blossom leveled his stare with a sharp glare of her own. "I'll be the judge of that." Her eyes trailed over to her where Buttercup was standing in front of Bubbles as if she were her own personal bouncer. The poised redhead's I'm-The-Sheriff-Around-These-Parts act dropped a little at Bubbles' horrified disposition.

"Don't worry, Leader-girl," Brick stated, keeping a firm grip on Butch as he attempted to free himself. "You don't need to bother yourself with our petty affairs. Please, continue being high and mighty… and while you're at it, see if you can get that stick further up your ass."

Boomer managed to pull away from his more distracting thoughts enough to recognize that Brick was livid. Butch had been tweaking his nerves all week, and it seemed like he finally overdid it with this one. Not that Brick actually wanted to try to get along with the girls, but causing deliberate trouble with them, especially because he wanted nothing to do with them, was a big no-no.

After all, living in a rent-free apartment had a lot of benefits…

Butch, at last, seemed to realize that he treaded too deep in red-rimmed waters and stopped trying to free himself. He huffed a black piece of hair back from in from of his face and folded his arms.

Blossom, however, didn't seem to understand that an angry Brick could possibly signify the End of Current Life. She also seemed rather pissed off at his comment. But before she could proceed to tell him so, Brick cut her off and yanked Butch to his feet.

"No time for small talk. We'll catch up later, yeah?" His tone was an annoyed exasperation as Blossom glared harder and turned to try to console a still flame-faced, glassy-eyed Bubbles.

Somehow, the sheen in her already big, blue eyes made her look more—no. No, no, no. It's fine, Boomer tried to convince himself, I'm just a teenage boy. This is normal. It doesn't matter that she's a Powerpuff, she's just a girl.

A girl. She was just a girl. But that was the problem, wasn't it? Boomer had always known that she was a girl, but not a girl. Whatever image his young, five-year-old self had seen of Bubbles and stowed away in a section of his mind labeled "Ew" and which had stayed with him for years now promptly imploded. Because Bubbles definitely wasn't ew. And he had just realized it.

Damn it.

Blinking rapidly to get out of his dazed state, Boomer suddenly realized that Brick was already starting to fly away with Butch in tow, and that Blossom was yelling something at them. He rubbed the back of his head and shot Bubbles one last glance, almost thankful when he couldn't exactly see her because Buttercup was still hovering in front of her.

He shook his head and kicked off the ground, moving to Brick's side and determinedly keeping his mind focused off replaying Bubbles' little fall and definitely from enjoying it.

They were sixteen when he realized something.

He liked her. He freaking liked her.

It was the beginning of junior year and Boomer was certain that he was going crazy.

Ever since The Incident (as he now liked to call it), he saw enemy in a different light. No longer was Bubbles the annoying little crybaby who only took punches at him with half-hearted feeling, she was the extremely attractive blonde girl who was way too damned friendly for her own good. At first he had thought it was merely because he was a guy with too many pent up hormones. But then…

After The Incident, Boomer convinced himself that it was just a fleeting physical attraction that would go away the next day. It was just a shock; after all, who would have guessed that his primary childhood opposition would have turned out to be a looker?

However, the very next day at school she had walked by, turning an embarrassed shade of red as Butch wolf-whistled at her (he, unfortunately, also seemed to realize that Bubbles had been blessed by puberty) and Boomer felt his insides go a little whoozy.

So then he had tried to get to know her, because surely he would be turned off by her icing-coated niceness.

Well, he'd never prided himself on having good ideas.

Instead of being repulsed, he was hooked. Over the course of many months, he grew accustomed to hearing her laugh and talk and hum—her voice made Christmas bells sound like car horns. He became dazed by watching her hair shine in all sorts of light. He developed a liking for the way she would play with her hands whenever she got bored.

It was unhealthy. And he hadn't realized the extent of his…crush (the inner Rowdyruff Boy in him cringed) until yesterday, when he had once more found her in the park and she had sullenly told him of how she still felt like she would never be as good as her sisters. They were smart and strong and amazing, and she was still the runt of the litter.

It was like, in a more emotionally stable way, she was expressing all of the same discomfort and disappointment he had often felt when around his brothers. Sure, he had made some improvement in the 'dumb' department since he was a kid, but he still couldn't compare to Brick's intelligence. And he couldn't ever hope to have as much raw power as Butch presented on a frequent basis. He would always be the one trailing behind.

And as she had been telling him her problems and started to play with the edge of her shirt while looking down at the sand covering her shoes, it had hit him. He liked her. And not just out of a fleeting, physical attraction.

So here he was, once more in the second week of school, watching as the object of his affection walked up to him with a smile that could blind the astronauts on the moon.

"Hi, Boomer!" Bubble's called out brightly.

Boomer stifled a groan as she stopped right in front of him, her face only a foot away from his own. It was definitely a bad thing that she didn't have personal space issues.

"Hey, Bubbles," he responded, flashing her a smile of his own. He was the cool guy, the funny kid, the pretty boy (at least, according to his fellow students). He couldn't act like a love-struck puppy for even a second, not if he didn't want his brothers to find out. And so, he had to act like the fact that she was wearing short shorts and a tight shirt didn't affect him. Which was really, really hard to do.

Bubbles shuffled her feet for a second before meeting his eyes. "Listen," she started, moving a piece of hair behind her ear. "Thank you… for listening yesterday. Most people would just think I was being a cry-baby." She smiled and stepped forward. Boomer had to force himself to not jet away faster than a rocket. "It was really nice to talk to you."

"C'mon, Bubbles," he began, putting his arms behind his head casually, "what am I here for—"

And then she hugged him.

Holy hell, the girl was trying to kill him. It wasn't just a casual side-hug, no. It was a full out, spine-crushing (had he not been comprised of Chemical X), body-pressing hug. The kind where the girl snuggles into the guy's chest.

Boomer was only slightly aware of his lungs withering inside of his chest as his heart rocketed up to his throat.

"You're a really good friend," she mumbled.

Ah. Friend. The good feelings were suddenly cut to smithereens by the daggers now piercing his body. And before he could respond to either the hug or her comment, another voice called out.

"Hey, Baby Blue—what can I do to get one of those?" Enter Butch. As previously mentioned, he had also taken notice of Bubbles and her teenage state, and he didn't let anyone forget it. Boomer shot him an annoyed glare, arms limp at his side as Bubbles continued to hug him, looking at Butch with her eyebrows raised.

"One of what?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Butch gestured to Boomer. "One of those hugs!" He held his arms out to emphasize the action.

"Simple," cut in Boomer, putting an arm across Bubbles' back with restraint. "You gotta be as awesome as me."

Butch made a face. Bubbles giggled and then backed away. Boomer's inner testosterone protested when her body was no longer aligned with his.

"Seriously, what's a guy got to do to get a date with you?" Butch stepped in front of Bubbles and leaned close, pushing Boomer back with his palm. Boomer sighed and made it seem like he didn't want to tackle his brother to the ground.

Bubbles crossed her arms. "Butch, you're dating Erin."

Butch waved the comment off. "Dating is such a… strong word."

Laughing, Bubbles rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. "Try to keep a relationship for more than a week, 'kay? I've got to go meet Blossom in the library." Turning back to Boomer she beamed and he felt his eyelid twitch as he rethought the 'friend' comment. "I'll see you in English!"

As she walked away, Boomer's nose scrunched when Butch blatantly stared at her mile-long, perfect legs, lips quirked. "Mmm, that girl has the best—"

"Too much information, bro," Boomer interrupted, patting Butch roughly on the back to snap him out of his daze.

Butch shook his head and grabbed the front of Boomer's shirt in a frantic movement. "Dude, you're around her, like, all the time, how do you not…" he trailed off with a growl.

"Because I'm her friend," drawled Boomer monotonously. "I just don't see her like—what?" Boomer's brow furrowed as Butch looked at him oddly.

"Do I sense…bitterness?" he questioned, an eager spark in his green eyes.

Boomer took a step back. "Uh… what? That's ridiculous." He let his head fall back nonchalantly, disrupting eye contact.

He continued quickly, "She's like my sister." Ugh, that was probably the biggest, fattest lie he'd ever told. The words tasted like vomit on his tongue. If Bubbles was like his sister, then he had some serious issues.

"No, she looks like your sister. There's a difference."

Not particularly enjoying the way Butch's voice had taken on that sly know-it-all kind of tone, Boomer simply frowned and gave his brother a bland look. "Can you get your mind out of the gutter for, like, three minutes? It is possible for the two genders of our species to coexist without…" he grappled for the right word.

"Humping?"

Boomer rolled his eyes.

"And that, my dear, stupid brother, is where you're wrong." Butch wrapped an arm around Boomer's neck. "See, it's all about specifics. We, as men, can coexist with girls like that—" he pointed to a group of math nerds sitting at a lunch table, pencils caught within their frizzy curls—"however, we cannot just coexist with girls like Red and Blondie."

Boomer raised an eyebrow. "And Buttercup?"

"Dude, I don't even know if she's really a girl."

Two months later found three-fourths of the student body at one of Princess's famous house (correction, mansion) parties. The pool was filled with bikini-clad girls and beer-chugging guys; Princess herself was seated under a large ramada on a plush chair and surrounded by glittering drapes of all colors. She watched over her party with greedy eyes, looking out for her next pursuit.

Boomer was careful to stay indoors, away from her flirty stares. She had taken a special liking to him and his brothers since their entry into the school, and while she was far from unattractive, well... His eyes flickered to the blonde next to him. Redheads just weren't his thing.

"You know, if Princess knew you were here—"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," chirped Bubbles, unconcerned. "She's too busy hunting for new prey—I mean, boyfriends."

Boomers snorted. They weaved their way through the masses of people and escaped the mobs up one of the many staircases. Bubbles was giggling after shoving out of a particularly tight-knit group of underage drinkers, eyes bright under the deep-set lighting of the hallway. Boomer's mouth went dry as he watched her re-fluff her disheveled hair.

"Hey Bubbles!" It was Tracy, one of the girls in their History class. "We're playing spin the bottle in this room—you two wanna join?"

Boomer mentally started doing a happy dance. Play it cool, play it cool. "Spin the bottle?" He laughed. "What are we, in middle school?"

"It sounds fun," said Bubbles, smiling at him. "Let's go."

Him. She was smiling at him. And... kind of mischievously, at that. His stomach quivered. Before Boomer could decide whether or not his mind was playing tricks on him, Bubbles had grabbed his arm and was pulling him in the direction of the room.

The group of people waiting was still big, but at least they were away from the crowds downstairs. Boomer's good mood immediately deflated, however, when he saw Butch leaning along the wall. His brother smirked, winking at him.

They all gathered in a circle, and an empty bottle was placed in the middle. Bubbles, unfortunately, was seated by some girls about halfway around the circle from him, and Butch just a person away from her. Suddenly feeling nervous, Boomer watched as the first person spun the bottle and the game began.

If anything, the game was entertaining. Everything from shy pecks to sloppy frenching was being exchanged throughout the group. People were high on laughter and hormones. Butch was the third one the bottle's spin landed on, and at the chosen end of one of the boys' well-known admirers, who was much too shell-socked at her luck to do more than kneel forward. Butch, rolling his eyes, had planted one on her so hard that Boomer was sure the poor girl was still mid-swoon on her side of the circle. Thankfully, the bottle tip had stayed away from Bubbles—and from himself, in fact—but considering the jitters in his intestines were getting stronger, Boomer had a bad feeling it wasn't going to stay this way for much longer.

When it came time for Butch's turn, Boomer prayed to the high heavens that what he knew his brother wanted wouldn't happen. He glumly registered that it was Butch who probably set this whole thing up in the first place.

It was like the world had slowed to a halt as the bottle swung around and around, finally coming to a stop. Boomer felt like throwing himself into a volcano when he saw whom it was pointed at.

"Yes!" whooped Butch, jumping to his feet. Several people laughed at his antics. "Dreams do come true, people!"

Bubbles, at the receiving end of the bottle, pouted a little.

Boomer was sure that the air had turned to acid around him.

"Don't give me that look, doll face. This has been a long time coming." Butch's smirk could have cut glass. Boomer contemplated throwing his brother at a window and seeing if it actually did.

He vaguely wondered if should simply jet out of the room and towards the Bahamas, Bubbles safely in his arms, and then somehow convince her to forgo their friendship and then let him have his way with her on the beach. Sourly, he decided that would be a bad idea.

"Let's just get this over with," Bubbles sighed, forcing herself to stand up as people whistled around them. Boomer took extreme solace in the fact that she seemed quite exasperated. She was too nice to be mean, after all. Damn her niceness to hell.

"By the time it is over with, you'll be begging for more." And with that, Butch dramatically yanked on Bubbles's arm and spun her into his chest. She let out a surprised "Oof!" before his lips came down hungrily upon her own.

Boomer's heart shattered in that moment. The broken pieces daggered into his lungs and esophagus; he couldn't breathe.

This is why you shouldn't have kept it a secret, moron! he yelled at himself. At least then you'd be able to openly explain why you're going to kill Butch when you get home tonight.

The kiss was... thorough. Butch was definitely not letting this moment go to waste. Boomer saw Bubbles's eyes widen as his brother deepened the kiss, making it very obvious that tongue was now an active player in the game.

Suddenly, an angry heat filled the space between Boomer's ears. His body was twitching and his lips were thinned to barely a line; he was biting down on his tongue so hard that he thought he might split it. He was going to murder Butch. He was actually seeing red. Oh wait, that was probably because he was building up his eye-beams.

"Ooookay," breathed Bubbles, letting loose a nervous giggle as she bent backwards to avoid further mauling of her mouth. "I think that's enough—"

But Butch, not one to be deterred, placed his hand at the back of her head and quickly caught her in another passionate kiss, clearly letting his tongue make its final round before finally releasing her face. He pulled back looking more than satisfied. "There. Now it's enough. Unless, you know, you want more."

Boomer was steaming. He felt a low hiss curdle like venom from his mouth; the people on either side of him shivered and scooted as far away as they could.

Bubbles composed herself and stepped away, giving Butch a rather haughty look. "I think I'll pass." Friendly; she still sounded too friendly. In Boomer's current anger-warped reality, it almost seemed flirty. The idea made him want to go drown himself in a sewer.

Butch simply smirked. "Whatever you say, sweetie."

They took their places in the circle; people were snickering at the exchange and at Butch's persistence. Boomer wanted nothing more than to leave. He needed alcohol, or something equally mind-numbing. The image of Butch and Bubbles—his Bubbles—kissing was seared deep into his memory. Only a small voice stopped him. It was chanting almost her turn over and over. He knew it was stupid, but if there was a chance—even a small one...

The game continued on. He could tell Bubbles was avoiding his eyes. She was staring determinedly at the floor, the bottle, or at one of the girls on either side of her. Maybe she had liked the kiss with Butch. Maybe she was just too embarrassed to let him know.

He'd stopped paying attention to the game until it came time for Bubbles to spin. He silently pleaded with the bottle. It had to point at him—it had to! Everything had gone so wrong; so, so wrong. He deserved this!

Unfortunately, luck was not his lady tonight. The bottle stopped short of him; even when it did a weird little twitch (which was really odd), almost like it slipped, except there was nothing for it to slip on, it went past him to the guy sitting on his left.

Boomer slumped in utter disappointment.

He couldn't watch it happen again. He kept his eyes trained on the floor as the guy next to him got up to kiss her and focused his super-hearing on the party below them. He was so tuned out he almost didn't feel a light tap on his shoulder.

Looking up, he saw Bubbles standing hunched behind him, smiling softly. "Do you wanna go?"

He nodded, eyes lidded. They said their goodbyes to everyone. Butch blew a very loud and obnoxious kiss to Bubbles, who shot him an annoyed look. Boomer made a mental note to break Butch's stereo when he got home. Along with every other thing he had material affection for.

He didn't realize that she had led him out of the mansion and towards the front gate until they were several feet away from the mob of people still partying. Damn it, he thought angrily. Pull yourself together!

"Hey, Bubbles," Boomer cleared his throat and tried to smile. "We don't have to go go, you know."

"It's okay," she said. "I'm getting tired, anyway." She seemed bugged.

Well—he wasn't in the mood to cheer her up. She had unwittingly crushed his heart and soul and life in fifteen seconds of tonsil tag with his brother! So what if she didn't know that she made him want to fly to the top of a mountain and declare his feelings for her to the world? It was Butch. She should've—should've...

Boomer sighed. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets as they trudged along.

"I tried to make it land on you."

"...Whaa?" Boomer grunted, peering at Bubbles from the corner of his eye.

"The bottle," she explained. "When it was my turn. I tried to blow on it to get it to land on you, but I was trying to be discreet and I guess I blew too hard and then it barely passed you, and—ugh."

A zap sparked through his brain and his vision blacked out for a moment before he could see clearly again. What the hell... Did my brain just short-circuit? He blinked away the black and white dots dancing in front of his eyes before suddenly registering what the blonde girl standing next to him had just said.

I tried to make it land on you.

On him?

"On me?" Boomer squeaked, quickly coughing to regain any sort of masculine vocal quality.

Bubbles nodded, turning red at his shock.

"But... why?"

She huffed impatiently. "Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?"

Boomer stared. Then he nodded, meekly.

Bubbles flushed, her nose scrunching—gosh she was so freaking cute. "I, well, wanted to kind of... kiss you. A little bit."

Boomer blinked. Was this a dream? This had to be a dream. He had, after all, been dreaming about such a moment for a year.

"I guess I have for a while," she continued, getting more nervous at his silence. "I mean, I totally understand if you don't want to do anything like that considering how, you know, we're really good friends and all. It's just, you've been there for me and I really like you and I just had to get the taste of Butch's tongue out of my mouth and—"

Boomer's brain had finally caught up with her words. He ducked down and pressed his lips against hers. It was almost awkward at first, since she had been mid-rant, but she wasted no time in throwing her arms around his neck and reciprocating with fervent force and shit she was way too good at this kissing thing. Also, her mouth definitely tasted like the sugar she was supposedly comprised of.

It was blinding—the sheer desperation of the kiss. He felt his lungs expand at the feel of her hands curled into his hair and his skin buzzed as her body pressed against him. Boomer inwardly cursed himself for waiting so long to do this.

It was a while before they broke for air.

She was panting slightly; her blue eyes were sparkling and her smile made his insides melt into a puddle of goo.

"Why didn't we do that sooner?" Boomer growled out, arms still tight around her shoulders.

Bubbles laughed, her face still red. "I thought you only saw me as a friend."

Boomer paused, but gave her such a baffled look that she started laughing harder. After a moment, he joined in. Their laughter echoed through the expansive front yard as they stood before the gate; their bodies shaking and eyes filling with tears of incredulous mirth.

The party behind them raged on.

They were twenty-one when they decided to take a walk through the park one breezy, spring afternoon.

"Lots of memories by this swing set," said Bubbles, grinning.

Boomer raised his eyebrows at her in amusement before sitting down on one of the swings, teetering back and forth with his legs. "It's where I first decided that I loved you, I think."

Bubbles scoffed. "You told me you loved me when we flew to Hawaii to watch the sunset for our eight-month anniversary."

"I told you I loved you then. I decided it about six months after we became 'official.'" Boomer leaned back in the swing. "We were just talking here when it started raining—you started twirling around, getting wet and sandy and you were laughing. It just hit me."

"You're so cheesy."

"I'm a romantic. There's a difference."

They smiled at each other; Bubbles took a seat on the swing next to him. He continued rocking back and forth, feeling a sense of contentment spread through him. He could only ever attribute such peaceful feelings to her. She was the reason for everything, really.

Their years through high school and college had been a whirlwind of romance and feelings and teenage theatrics. They broke up twice in their time together: once, for five and a half months, and the second time for about a year. He liked to remember those times as The Dark Days. But they would somehow find their way back to one another each time. Bubbles was the epitome of patience and willingness to communicate. He was just lucky that she chose to bestow such virtues on him.

"This is where you threw Octi in the dirt," said Bubbles, suddenly.

Boomer shook his head to clear his thoughts. "What?"

Bubbles gave him a look. "C'mon, you remember! Oh gosh, we were so little then. You shot down and grabbed him and then threw him in the dirt!"

Dimly, Boomer recalled the memory. He winced. "I was such a little brat back then."

"It's okay," said Bubbles. "I beat the brat out of you."

"Yeah, right. More like cuddled it out of me."

She shrugged. "I'm a lover, not a fighter."

Boomer snorted. "Says the super hero who kicks trash on a daily basis."

"Technicalities," she said, waving it off.

The sun shone through the clouds, then, sending rippling rays of light that danced over her hair and skin, giving her an ethereal glow. Her blue eyes caught his, and he felt suddenly parched. After all this time, she could still take his breath away. The small box in his back pocket weighed down on him, and he could feel the twitters in his stomach start to grow.

"Jumping contest?" Bubbles questioned. She smiled slyly. "No powers, though!"

Boomer smirked. "You're on, blondie."

As they kicked off the ground, Boomer couldn't help but let out a chuckle. This park did have a lot of memories. He supposed it was his duty to keep them coming; at least, if the ring in his pocket had anything to do about it.

fin.