Disclaimer: I do not own the Powerpuff Girls

Almost, Sort-of Pretty

He didn't really know why, but he saw this flower and thought of her. It's a different sort of pretty, if he thought about it. Pretty like her, in a tough, diamond-in-the-rough sort-of way. But that's only if he thought about it, and Butch isn't one for thinking- or using clever metaphors in fact.

So he just plucked this wildflower he stumbled upon, and went along on his merry way.

If he thought about it, he might've liked Buttercup and maybe wanted to do something mildly romantic. But then again, he didn't think about it, because Butch is a doer and does as doers do.

And, pfft- romance? Please, he's simply acting on a whim. A risky whim, if he thought about it.

He bowed, with a smirk, and extended his arm. "For you, Butterbutt."

Ordinarily, Buttercup would've punched him for the term of endearment, but she figured the flower made up for it.

Instead, she rolled her eyes and accepted the flower. "Pretty, Butch, pretty. Did you pick it yourself?"

He turned away, laughing. "Yes ma'am. Even took out the thorns for you, but damn, do I regret that now."

Out of the corner of his eye, when she thought no one was looking, he saw her fondle the flower gently, with a small smile and the teeniest blush if he looked hard enough.

If he was to think about it, he would say that she was almost… sort-of pretty.