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"You're such a fucking asshole, Butch!" Buttercup flew through the air at a frightening speed. Her sights were set on the green Rowdyruff Boy flying overhead.
After destroying Pokey Oak High's parking lot, they took to the skies to finish their showdown. Both parties were bruised and bleeding; Buttercup felt the adrenaline pulse through her body, successfully dampening the pain in her abdomen. She threw several green bursts of energy, which he dodged expertly. She'd be impressed if she wasn't trying to kill him.
He stopped suddenly and dropped a couple of meters, throwing Buttercup off her trajectory. "What..? Shit!" As she glanced back she caught sight of her counterpart. Buttercup could feel the rage radiating off his body. His green eyes appeared to be on fire; his teeth were bared as he manifested a shield and threw it at her body, "Dodge this, you dumb bitch!"
The brunette quickly ducked out of the way, but the shield still managed to clip her leg. The force of the shield affected her balance, and she felt herself falling, falling.
Boom . Butch had kicked her in the gut before she could hit the ground. She felt the air escape her body as her ribs crushed her lungs upon the impact of the parking garage. Working off of pure endorphins and irrepressible fury, Buttercup peeled her eyes open and wrenched herself free from the concrete. Her knees buckled briefly as she stood up. With as much energy as she could muster, Buttercup threw a series of energy bolts at her counterpart- each one missing his form.
She steeled her gaze and clenched her jaw, just a little closer. She slipped her foot behind her and squared her shoulders. Come on, asshole.
Butch flew towards her at top speed, his eyes narrowed with blood dripping from his eyebrow. With all she had left, Buttercup swung her fist and met Butch's jaw with her knuckles.
The crack was deafening. Butch flew across the street, catching himself before he could crush the passing vehicle. He stood up shakily, grabbing his jaw and setting it back into place.
Neither dared to approach the other. They both stared at the other, anger mounting in their eyes. Butch took the first step towards her, then another, and another, until he was sprinting at her. She followed suit and launched herself forward.
"You're such a bitch!" He threw a punch and met her cheekbone.
"Who the fuck do you think you are? You don't get to say shit!" She punctuated each syllable with a fist to his stomach.
He grabbed her wrist and flipped her over onto her back. She tried to get up, but he countered her with a headbutt. "Who am I? Who are you?" He spat back while pinning her to the concrete. "Miss goody-two-shoes, self-righteous, Powerpuff. Fuck you!" Butch's resolve cracked, and Buttercup took advantage of his lack of concentration.
She gained the upper hand and reversed their positions. "You didn't have to hit him!" She glared holes into his eyes, grip tightening against his arms.
Butch struggled against her. "You didn't have to kiss him. You should've known you'd get him hurt." His voice dripped with venom, but his eyes shone with pain. She had a feeling his anger wasn't all directed at her.
Her grip on him slackened as she tried to mask her hurt, "What do you care?" She tried to hide the waver in her voice. His expression was dark, clouded over with something Buttercup didn't recognize.
Butch shoved her off of him, "I don't." He reverted to a disgusted expression.
"Then why'd you hit him?" Buttercup stared down at him.
"Because I'm a fucking bad guy, remember?" He looked her in the eyes, penetrating through her persona and down to her soul.
Buttercup stood there, speechless. His statement sent her heart hurdling into her stomach for reasons she couldn't explain.
Bad guy? Is that what you think of yourself? She thought bitterly—what a sorry-ass excuse.
She looked away from him, confusion and hurt evident on her face. "Whatever," She spat back. Without sparing a glance, she took off, leaving him in the pile of rubble.
*****
They found each other a few hours later, unwittingly, they had floated to the same area. Neither looked at the other as they settled on the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean just outside Townsville's city limits. Their tempers had settled, leaving an unsaid understanding in its wake.
"If you were jealous, you should've just said something." She muttered, leaning back on her elbows.
"I wasn't jealous," Butch attempted to spit back, lacking the intention behind it. "You flaked out on me to go mack on some dickhead. Anybody would be pissed."
"I didn't flake!" Buttercup let out a frustrated sigh. "He said he liked me a couple of weeks ago. We've been texting and shit and… and he kissed me, and it was nice before somebody cold-clocked him." She looked over at him, "I'm not like my sisters. Guys don't trip over themselves trying to talk to me… It was nice to have someone; I don't know. Why the fuck am I telling you this?" She fell back onto the grass.
"I talk to you," he mumbled as he laid down next to her. "Literally all the time."
"It's different, Butch." Buttercup turned her face to look at him.
"Is it?" He gazed at her intensely.
"I… "She trailed off as he inched his face closer to her. With a quick, fluid movement, he captured her lips with his.
He tasted like blood and cigarettes. She finally saw the appeal of nicotine. He moved his lips over hers, tracing the small cut on her mouth with his tongue. Buttercup gasped and pulled him in with a hand on his nape, her other hand tangled in his hair.
He gripped her waist, pulling her in closer. The warmth in her chest bloomed in a new way; she felt the fire burn through her at an incredible pace.
He pulled away quickly and looked at her with a hard determination. "You're good, I'm bad. It wouldn't work."
She frowned, thinking over his words. "Probably not," She searched his eyes. "We'd probably end up getting hurt or killing each other."
He was silent. Expression unreadable, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "Probably."
I don't care; the voice inside her screamed. I don't care. Hurt me.
He didn't ask for a reply, and she didn't give one. Instead, he pulled her into another kiss. They pushed on each other's bruises, nipped at the skin, massaging their wounds.
"I don't think I'd mind getting hurt," He whispered in her ear, sending goosebumps down her nape. "Not by you, anyways."
They laid there until the sun went down in a pile of tangled limbs and entwined fingers. The bruises faded with the sun until they weren't there at all.