Title: Excessive Conversation

Rating: T

Pairing: Boomer/Buttercup

Warnings: Infidelity...

Notes: I can't really find a lot of mixed pairings around so I decided to fool around with this. It's not something I'm immediately dedicated to, but I'll update when the plot bunnies come (you could contribute to that). This is a no-powers AU. So they're normal af.

[Editted]


The afternoon after it had begun, the weather was fine if not overcast, and she was in the café they frequented. She had to break it off.

Boomer liked his coffee black with two sugars and a dollop of cream dumped on the top.

Buttercup didn't have to look twice to know the waitress had confused her 'usual' with Boomer's. She didn't complain, instead taking a few brave sips and managing not to wince in disgust.

The café is the same. The white wallpaper with splashes of a creamy brown paint manipulated to look as if someone had thrown their coffee at the wall remained intact. The divine smells of multiple sugar filled bitter brews pleasantly calming her mind. Though it looked demure, they always served their coffees and teas in big, round mugs.

That reminded her of Boomer. Every crevice, smell, and booth. They all reminded her of Boomer.

She took another scalding sip. It burned, but it felt better than her hot tears mercilessly staining her cheeks. The quick uneven pants she released made her throat raw and a dainty hand covered her mouth so suppress a sob. God, she hated crying. She hated this pain, and that Boomer had caused it. No, that wasn't exactly true, she was fully capable of making her own decisions - this was her fault.

The caffeine fueled drink was disgusting, as always, the bitter aftertaste on her tongue lasted much too long. And yet for some obscure reason she still drank it. It still gave her the same buzz would give any other human, she still felt that buzz whether or not she liked the coffee. Perhaps that might've been enough, if it wasn't for the disgusting aftertaste she might've drunk it just for the sake of of it.

She quickly set the mug down and wiped her face as the the bell signalled the entrance of a customer, announcing the center of all of Buttercup's dubious affections.

Boomer strode to her, his eyes dull and refusing to meet hers. Once he took a seat he immediately noticed the half-empty mug of coffee.

"You drank coffee?" He asked, slightly teasingly, brow raised.

"Yes." She snipped. Unwilling to continue drinking it, she suggestively pushed the mug toward him, swallowing at the hint of amusement in his eyes as he took it and sipped the warm brew. She was grateful that he didn't mention how it was his preferred cup.

"You left this morning." He said, a little tiredly.

"I don't know what you were expecting."

He regarded her second-long frown with a sense of trepidation that hung in his next words, "I wanted you to stay."

She disregarded all that she felt for the moment, so that she could speak the truth. What needed to said. She wouldn't say that she'd felt a blithe attachment when waking up next to him. They had been foreshadowing an already broken relationship, one that they had to stop pursuing. She told him; "I went because you stayed. It was a mistake, you have a wife."

His eyes sparked, slightly, but enough for her to notice his rising anger. "I'm fucking aware of that, Buttercup."

"Do you think I want this?" She was on the verge of tears again, but her blood boiled. "I'm with you, every single single day I have to see that ring shine on your finger, every single day." She wiped a rogue tear away. "I have no one to go home to. I don't want this Boomer."

"Do you think I enjoy this?" Boomer brushed a hand through his hair

"You hurt me." She felt like throwing the mug in his face, flipping the table. Her voice trembled in both resentment and misery.

"I know."

"I wish you never got married." She was just spewing words, words that never should've crossed her mind

"So do I."

"I love you."

Boomer paused, staring at her, mulling her words over in his head. Somehow it wasn't hard to say it back. "I love you." His vows felt half-hearted in comparison to those words, who they were meant for, truly.

By now she was crying untamed tears that flowed freely down her cheeks. She was looking away, shoulder occasionally wracking as she brought her arms up to hug herself.

He fished his wallet out of his pocket and paid for the cup of coffee before getting up and walking to her side of the booth. He held out his hand. "This isn't the place."

At this point in their relationship their hesitation was near nil.

Still, it surprised him how fast she took his proffered hand.