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Chapter Text

It was the first day of the new school term, and Ms Keane... Ms Keane did not know how to feel.

It was the first time in a delightful– Ahem. Sorry, relaxing month that Sandra Keane would be seeing her students, and honestly, she had missed her chaotic bunch.

But, you see, that was what they were. A chaotic bunch. As much as Sandra loved her students, they were the single most exhausting class she has had to deal with in the past four years of her teaching career.

She meant, she had expected nothing less when the principal had told her, at the beginning of the year, that she would not be taking up just three, but six superpowered children (the other teachers still threw her pitying looks sometimes), but there were instances where she felt... It was too much.

That morning was one of those instances.

The prospect of having to handle the possibilities of what one of those six superchildren could do, today, was utterly terrifying.

Don't get her wrong, Sandra had really, really missed her kids. Today just... wasn't her day, she guessed. She prayed–oh dear God she prayed–that her beloved, cute kindergarteners wouldn't kick up a fuss. Just for today, she begged internally, give me a bit more time to prepare.

The clock struck eight and Ms Keane rose from her desk in the staff room, smiling politely at the colleagues that gave her sympathetic pats on the back as she headed for her classroom. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she squared her shoulders and went in.

Six pairs of eyes-pink, red, two green and two blue-stared at her as she walked, and she sighed.

I need a pay rise.

Brick had never seen the point of coming to school. He didn't think he ever would. What was the point, anyway, when he knew everything that the teachers were teaching? School was a waste of time. But both his old men wanted him to go, so here he was. 'Look after your brothers,' they'd said, and Brick had agreed, because he knew his brothers, but that didn't make school any less stupid.

Especially First Days, where no one learned anything. On normal days, at least he could get some satisfaction from showing off his superior-ness to everyone, (most of all to that stupid, know-it-all goody-two-shoes Powerpuff Girl), but First Days were absolutely boring and did nothing for him.

But it was break time now, and he was so ready to vent out all his pent-up boredom and frustration a good ol' game of catching.

He turned to the brown-haired boy beside him. Matt Williams, the only boy Brick had deemed cool enough to be friends with, stared dazedly across the classroom. At what? Brick followed his friend's line of sight and found the literal bane of his existence. He gave Matt a look, though the other boy didn't seem to notice. What was with everyone's obsession with her?

"You know, Blossom's really pretty." Matt spoke up, his voice soft.

Brick looked toward where the pink-clad Powerpuff girl was, scoffing slightly. That bossy girl? Pretty? What a joke.

She giggled, suddenly, and his ears picked up the high pitched sound. It pierced through his disgust and rang in his ears in a way that made his stomach feel weird. Ugh. He turned away and cast his gaze upon Matt instead, who still had his eyes locked on the pink-eyed girl. Brick rolled his eyes.

"Come on. Let's go." He nudged the brunette's shoulder, only to receive no response.

"Matt?" When Matt didn't budge, Brick waved his hand in front of his friend's face. What was he doing? Boomer and Butch were at the playground waiting for them to play catching!

"Matt!" The brunette jumped slightly at the irritated undertone in Brick's voice.

"Oh!" His face was red. Brick rolled his eyes again.

"Let's go." Brick adjusted his cap and left, striding towards the playground with his nose in the air. He wasn't about to let some stupid girl steal his friend away–

Wait.

Brick paused mid-stride, spinning around at the lack of feet pattering after him. To his chagrin, there was Matt, still rooted to his previous position and his eyes still glued on the pink Powerpuff girl.

Brick grit his teeth. "Matt!" He barked sharply, his eyes flashing with anger. Matt, snapped out of his stupor, shook his head and scrambled towards Brick.

Brick pointedly ignored his friend's apologies and continued on his way to the playground, his mouth set in a hard line.

"What took you guys so long?" Butch asked, standing on the seat of the swing as his fingers gripped the metal chains attached to it. Boomer was behind him, pushing the swing with all his might.

Matt's face flushed and he looked down sheepishly.

Brick didn't even glance at him.

"Matt just kept looking at that Powerpuff girl." He rolled his eyes again, getting on the swing beside Butch's.

"Which one?" Boomer asked quickly, pausing mid-push.

"Hey! Keep pushing, Boomer! Unless you're too weak to keep pushing!" Butch cackled, his back barely grazing Boomer's nose as he swung back towards the blonde.

Brick narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his youngest brother. "The pink one."

"Oh." The concentrated expression on Boomer's face melted away. He refused to make eye contact with Brick.

"Ha!" Butch crowed, pointing a finger at the red-faced Matt. "Matt's got a crush~" He sang, grinning when said boy hid his face behind his hands.

Brick felt funny.

He didn't normally get angry at Matt, what with him being one of his only friends, but for some reason he felt this intense urge to... to punch him so hard he flew far, far away.

(Far, far away from Blossom, he thought immediately, but paused. So that... that girl couldn't steal him away, obviously!)

"What's so good about her, anyway?" He announced hotly, hoping that that intense pressure on his chest would leave. "She's just a stupid Powderpuff. She isn't even pretty!" His tongue felt heavy after he said it.

At this, Matt peeked out of his fingers and flashed a quick glance at him. "She's not stupid," he mumbled softly, "and I think she's pretty."

Brick felt his face heat up and his temper flare. How– How dare he?! "Well, I think she's dumb! She's dumb and ugly and you're dumb and ugly too for liking her!" He spat, fists clenched and blood roaring in his ears.

"No, we're not!" Matt had removed his fingers from his face and was now glaring at him. Brick caught a glint at the corner of brunette's eyes and his lip curled.

"Aww, is the lit-tle baby crying now?" He taunted patronisingly, "Why don't you run to Blossom over there, maybe she'll sing you a lullaby!"

"Well, maybe I will!" Matt shot back, a tear spilling down his cheek.

"Go, then, see if I care!" Brick pointedly spun around and crossed his arms, brows furrowed and breathing heavily. It had been a while since he last got this riled up.

"Fine!"

"Fine!" Brick didn't believe for one second that he would actually go. Matt was his only friend, and vice versa. The only difference was that while Brick always had his brothers to fall back on, Matt had no one.

He kept his eyes closed and his head high, waiting for his friend to come to his senses. That girl wouldn't take him in anyway. The troublemaker in Matt–the same one that drove Brick to him–would be an immediate turn-off for her.

"Brick..." Boomer's voice made him open an eye. "Matt's gone."

"What?!" He whirled around in a red blur. Matt left him?!

"He's been gone for a while, actually," his blonde brother informed sheepishly.

"And you didn't tell me?!" Brick narrowed his eyes at Boomer.

"Ugh." Butch groaned. "This is getting bo-ring. Can we play catching now?" He whined, getting off the swing. Butch approached Boomer with a gleam in his eye.

"Tag! Boomer's 'It'!" He guffawed, and a green flash later, he was gone.

Brick snickered, taking off as well.

"Hey! Wait up!"

"Catch me if you can~" Butch sang, shooting higher into the air and out of Boomer's reach.

Boomer let out a noise of frustration and attempted another swipe at his black-haired brother. Butch swerved away swiftly and sniggered at the Boomer's helplessness.

Meanwhile, Brick hovered in the air, quite a distance away from where his brothers were. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the blurs of green and blue. Whatever. His brothers could go play their childish games. Brick, on the other hand, had more pressing matters to attend to.

Like figuring out his damn rubik's cube.

Brick drifted languidly to the playground. It had been built at the beginning of the year, when he had come in, but it quickly became his favourite place in the school. Floating to his safe spot beneath the slide–he came there when everyone got too annoying. Even his brothers couldn't find him here–he pulled out the colourful cube from his pocket, narrowing his eyes in focus as he twisted row after row.

So if I turn the red one that way, and the other red one that way... He smiled a little when both red squares ended up side by side. Okay. Next one–

Two small pairs of feet came into his right peripheral view and he scowled. He recognised the shoes on one of the pairs. Black, paired with white stockings – that footwear set was only worn by three people, and judging from the small pink bows at the tips of the shoes, he'd make a wild guess and say that the owner of those feet had long, red hair and had pink, too.

"Hey, Blossom?" A vaguely familiar voice sounded.

Hah! He was right. Brick rolled his eyes before pausing. Wait. He knew that voice. That voice belonged to–

"What's wrong, Matt?"

Traitor, he thought, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. Matt did go crying to that Powerpuff Girl. Stupid boy and his stupid crush. The two of them were making him sick and they'd barely just started talking.

"I- I have something for you..." Matt said. Brick watched the boy's feet shuffle a little. Unconsciously, he leaned closer to his right side to get a better view.

"Really?" Her voice became brighter, and the sound of it made him queasy. Ugh.

Matt's shuffling became more intense. Brick shifted his gaze upward a little, only to find a little pink flower clenched in Matt's left, dirt-covered fist. That traitor had probably dug that flower up from Ms Keane's private garden in a corner of the school grounds. It suddenly hit him, what the flower was for, and his blood ran cold.

He then imagined how Matt would give it to her, the glow of happiness on her stupid, ugly face, how she would smile at Matt with that blindingly disgusting smile, and—

Why did he care, anyway? He didn't care. He didn't. He. Didn't. Care. Why was he still listening? Those two were making his ears bleed. He needed to solve his rubik's cube.

"H-Here!" Brick could see it – Matt gripping the flower with both hands so tightly that the stem of the flower crumpled, him thrusting both hands out at her, his face flushed and– Brick. Didn't. Care.

Rubik'scuberubik'scuberubik'scube– Sadly, his mental chanting did not drown out the sound of her surprised gasp, nor did it mute the delighted tone to her voice as she said, "Woah! That's so pretty, Matt! And it's for me?"

Ugh. His stomach flipped. She was truly disgusting.

He forced his gaze back to his cube, staring intensely at the different coloured squares. He didn't care about them, not at all.

But then he caught the Powerpuff's feet moving closer to Matt's, glimpsed the hem of her skirt swishing against Matt's knees, as–he presumed–she wrapped him up in a hug, and his blood boiled.

"Thank you," she whispered, probably only for Matt's ears, but–curse his Chemical X–her voice brushed against his ears too.

Brick had had enough.

"Ugh," he voiced out, crawling into the open air from under the slide. Crossing his arms at the two of them, he sneered. "You two are gross."

"Brick Jojo?!" The stupid pink girl gasped and let go of Matt, which removed some of the pressure on his chest. "How long have you been there?!"

Brick rolled his eyes. He didn't bother answering her. "A flower? Seriously?" he looked at Matt and jeered, "You're such a simp. I'm out."

And out he was, zooming across the playground with his rubik's cube safely back in his pocket. He'd go find his brothers, he thought. Maybe beating up Boomer would make his stomach stop flipping.

When Brick found his brothers, they were no longer playing catching. Instead, they'd found a ball–"In the tree," Boomer explained gleefully, "I flew into the tree and the ball fell out."–and were kicking it around.

Brick took one look at the ball and, feeling all the anger from before resurface, brought forward his right foot and shot the ball straight into Butch's face.

It only took a moment for his green-eyed brother to recover, Chemical X working swiftly and efficiently to mend the broken nose he had suffered. After mere seconds, Butch grasped the ball and threw it straight into Boomer's stomach, effectively knocking the wind out of the blonde.

"Hey!"

And then they fell back into play-fighting, throwing the ball at breakneck speed towards each other, knowing the impact would be intense but short-lived (they'd never hurt each other severely on purpose – after all, they were brothers). It was that split-second pain, that rush of adrenaline and the surge of satisfaction when his ball hit the mark that made him feel like, for a while, everything was okay and it was just him and his brothers.

But of course her giggles came back to haunt him, carrying that same, repulsive happiness from before that made his hair rise and his stomach flipflipflip. He unwillingly zeroed in on that sound, and he absentmindedly flung the ball in Boomer's vague direction before turning to face the source of his problems.

Her sisters and friends were surrounding her, and he wrinkled his nose. Girls. Ew. But then, he caught sight of the thing they were all huddling around.

That stupid, stupid flower.

The blue one was bouncing on the balls of her feet, squealing incoherent nonsense that made the pink one's face turn red. Something in his gut twisted. Disgusting. The green one only eyed it, a smirk on her face, but she did nothing to discourage the blonde from her antics. Then, there was a brown haired girl ooh-ing and ah-ing at the flower, peering at it from different angles as if it made a difference.

Brick sniffed. Girls.

Just then, the ball hit him at the back of his head.

"Brick! Wat'cha doin'? Pay attention!" Butch jeered, and Brick turned to face his brothers.

"What's wrong, Brick?" Boomer, noticing his frown, questioned cautiously.

"It's just the Powerpuff Girls." He grumbled, bending down to pick up the ball. "They're pissing me off."

"Ooh! What're you gonna do?" Butch's eyes lit up in enthusiasm.

"Yeah! What're you gonna do? What're you gonna do?" Boomer grinned.

Brick hesitated. "Nothing for now. Him will get angry if he's called in for us destroying the school again."

"Aw." Butch pouted. "You're no fun."

"Shut up," was Brick's response, and he hurled the ball into Boomer's shoulder.

"This isn't about Matt and Blossom, is it?"

Stupid Boomer. His stomach burned at the mention of those two names. "No!" He rebuked sharply, glaring at his blue-eyed brother.

And then there were those stupid giggles again, triggering that image of her, cheeks pink and smiling and hugging Matt and that dumb, ugly flower that was just like her dumb, ugly self, and there was this inexplicable rage that blazed throughout his body like a wildfire. It was hot and consuming and it burned.

"Brick?" "Brick!"

His brothers' voices called out to him, but he paid them no mind. They sounded so far away, so far behind him, and he vaguely registered that he was moving.

His eyes were locked on his target, the one with the stupid pink eyes and the stupid red hair the stupid pink flower in her hand. For some reason, he felt miserable. Miserable and angry.

And since she made him miserable and angry, he was going to make her miserable and angry too!

Brick stomped up to the group of four girls, shoving past them effortlessly to get to the pink Powerpuff. Fools, he thought, as he took in her indignant gasp. Without further ado, he snatched the stupid pink flower out of her hands and threw it on the ground.

Stupid. He stomped on the petals. Flower. Another stomp. Stupid. Stomp. Pink– He ground the shredded plant into the dirt, effectively venting his anger and ripping the flower into shreds.

He sneered down at its tattered remains, a twisted sense of satisfaction washing over him like a tidal wave.

Suddenly, he was pushed back by a strong force. Planting his feet into the ground, he just barely managed to keep from flying out of the school perimeters.

"What is wrong with you?!" Blossom cried, her eyes slits as she glared daggers at him. "What did I– What did the flower ever do to you?!"

"It was pissing me off," he replied matter-of-factly, "You were pissing me off."

"You had no right!" She yelled, her frame trembling slightly. His lip curled. "No! Right!"

"Oh yeah?" He goaded, mouth forming a snarl, "What are you gonna do about it?"

"You–" Buttercup was rolling up her sleeves, her teeth grit and frown in place. Bubbles was right beside her, arms crossed and stance rigid.

"No, girls," Blossom stretched out a hand to bar her. "I'll deal with him myself."

"You sure?" He was acutely aware of the Chemical X bubbling beneath his skin, raring to be released. "You might need some help, or you'll end up like your stupid little flower."

She growled and shot at him, fists glowing a neon pink, and threw a hard punch at his cheek. He easily countered it by raising his left arm, swinging his right fist at her stomach. His hand collided with air as she flew back, raising both palms to aim a blast of pink energy at him. Amateur, he thought. In a crimson flash, he was behind her, delivering a sharp kick to her back.

A satisfied smirk formed on his face as he watched her hit the ground, her hands and feet twitching as she tried to push herself up.

"Blossom!" Brick whipped his head around to find Matt running towards her. He clenched his jaw, unable to tear his gaze away from the way Matt gently touched her shoulder, the way she smiled a strained smile at the brown-haired boy as she took his hand to help herself up, the way Matt held her hand, and how she let him, and he saw red.

He charged, wind whipping against his face as he dived at her, and he took a little pleasure in the way she let go of Matt's hand immediately to whiz at him too, and they were just blurs of pink and red as they fought, him countering her every punch with a punch of his own, her deflecting his every kick with a kick of her own. When she landed a punch on his cheek, he was only spurred to drive a fist into her stomach.

They hovered in the hair, chests heaving as they fought to catch their breath. He didn't fail to notice the way she took a deeper inhale, the way she clenched her fists at her sides, how her shoulders tensed - he was no stranger to her attacks; he knew what was coming next. He took in a bigger breath as well, feeling molten lava build up at the back of his throat, the white hot fire from his anger begging to be let out. His mouth burned. Now–

"Blossom Utonium! Brick Jojo!"

The heat in his mouth dissipated in an instant, a chill descending onto the scene. Brick knew it wasn't because his counterpart released her ice breath. Both of them slowly floated back to the ground, and Brick's eyes unwittingly followed the waves her hair made as it settled.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ms Keane asked sternly. Her blue eyes, so unlike Boomer's, seemed to pierce straight into his soul. It was then that Brick noticed the crowd of onlookers that had gathered to watch the fight.

"Ms Keane– No! He–" Brick's counterpart started to protest, her eyes wide as she peered up at Ms Keane.

Their teacher held up a hand and Blossom fell silent. "I expected more from you, Blossom," Ms Keane turned her disappointed gaze on him. "And you, Brick, I thought..." She shook her head and Brick felt his stomach drop.

He looked quickly at his counterpart and frowned. It was all her fault! If she didn't... If she hadn't been so annoying, if she hadn't taken Matt's stupid flower, all this wouldn't have happened! She was the one at fault here!

"Look at all the grass the two of you destroyed!" Ms Keane said reproachfully, and Brick scanned the area to find that she was right. "If I hadn't stopped you two just now, the damage would have been much more severe. The school playground hasn't even been here for a year, and I have no doubt that it would have either been frozen or burnt to a crisp." She looked at the both of them pointedly.

"No– But Ms Keane! Brick was the one who provoked me!" The pink Powerpuff explained desperately, "He just came up to me out of nowhere and destroyed my flower!"

Brick felt something in him flare up again. "Well, your flower was annoying me!"

"How?!" Blossom rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

"It just was!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

"Was TOO!"

"Was NOT!" They were butting heads at that point, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched as they glared at each other.

"Alright, the two of you, enough." Ms Keane interrupted, pulling the two of them apart. "Both of you are at fault."

"But Ms Keane–"

"No 'but's." Their teacher said. "I want the both of you to apologise. Now."

Apologise?! To her?! No way in hell.

It seemed both him and his counterpart were on the same page for once, if her steely, unrelenting glower was anything to go by.

"Know that I'll have to call Professor Utonium and Him if you don't apologise," Ms Keane added, a warning.

Brick's eyes widened. "I'm sorry!" He blurted, forced, and he felt his face heat up in embarrassment. He blinked when he realised they had both done it at the same time.

"Good." Ms Keane gave a pleased smile. "Both of you won't do this again, right?" He nodded slowly, and she did the same. "Now I want you to shake on it."

"What?!" They exclaimed in unison, glancing at each other in shock.

"Eeeww, I'm not touching her, she'll give me her cooties!" He protested, making an expression of disgust as he took a step away from her.

"I am not shaking hands with a barbarian!" His counterpart drew away from him and scrunched up her nose.

Ms Keane made a show of taking out her phone and scrolling. "Him... Him... Ah! There's his contact! Oh! Professor Utonium's too!"

Both of them froze.

Blossom reluctantly extended a hand to him, determinedly not looking in his direction.

"And Brick?"

Screw them, he thought, and spat on his left hand before holding it out.

"Brick."

"Fine." He held out his other hand.

They shook awkwardly, both immediately retracting their hands after one shake to wipe them on their clothes.

I have cooties now, Brick bemoaned bitterly, scrubbing his right hand on the side of his pants.

"Alright!" Ms Keane stood and clapped her hands. "Playtime's over, everyone, back to class!"

And as the kindergarteners slowly filed back into class, chattering, Brick sought out Matt. He pushed past the brown-haired boy, muttering, "We're not friends anymore, traitor."

Matt didn't say anything and continued on his way back to class.

"Brick! Hey!" Butch appeared and threw a playful punch at his shoulder. "That was pretty cool!"

"And you almost had her, too!" Boomer piped up, next to Butch. The blonde flashed him an encouraging smile. 'You'll get her next time, Brick!"

Some of the weight on his chest eased, and Brick sighed. "Yeah. Next time."

Sandra Keane had a headache.

How was she going to explain the destroyed grass field to the principal?

Oh, her students. She loved them, so dearly, but they would be the death of her.

Chapter Text

"And the top scorer for this term's Mathematics test is..."

Brick held his breath as he waited for the results to be released. This was it. He could feel it. Today was the day he would finally usurp that stuck-up Blossom Utonium's position of being the top scorer in class. He'd put in too much for it not to happen.

Days of pouring over his textbook and flipping through his notes, drilling equations into his head and practicing all his methods would finally pay off. His brothers had called him crazy, then, but Mojo had cheered him on with pompoms as he studied, while Him had full-on teared up.

Today was the day.

He'd already practiced the smug grin he was going to give her as he strutted up to receive his paper a million times in the mirror this morning, had rehearsed the swagger in his step and went over the pompous raising of his chin as he looked down at her from the front of the class.

He was going to win .

"Our reigning champion, Blossom!" Mrs Doran, their teacher, announced happily, eliciting a loud round of applause from the class.

What.

No, no, no .

This was not how it was supposed to go.

No. Way.

But sure enough, instead of him, she was the one sauntering up to receive her paper, she was the one throwing him an infuriatingly arrogant smirk, she was the one looking down at him from her place at the front of the class.

He wanted to punch her face in.

"Congratulations, Blossom," Mrs Doran grinned, oblivious to Brick's inner turmoil, "full marks! I'd expected nothing less from you, dear."

The pink-clad heroine's chest puffed up with the praise and she directed her haughty gaze at him, knowing full well everything that had just gone through his mind. "Thank you, Mrs Doran."

Stupid. prissy, arrogant, Powerpuff Girls .

Brick wanted to scream. (And cry, just a little, he admitted very privately, before erasing any traces of that thought.)

When he received his paper, the desire to wreak havoc only grew.

He'd lost to her by a mere five marks. Five marks .

He scoured the paper, looking desperately for answers and working that might score him a few more marks. There was no way all his effort had gone down the drain. It couldn't have. It just... couldn't.

It had, and Brick had never felt more low in his life.

"Come on, Mrs Doran," he begged- begged ! Brick Jojo never begged for anything, but here he was, reduced to this pathetic state by a mere five marks-insistently, "I could have gotten a mark right here-"

"Now, Brick," Mrs Doran placed a hand on his shoulder sympathetically, with Brick flinching away from it slightly. He didn't want nor need her pity! All he wanted was his hard work's worth of marks! His teacher sighed. "I understand your disappointment, but you know I can't give you any more marks. We've gone through this already, remember?"

"I'm not disappointed!" He snapped, feeling a heat build up within his chest, "It's just unfair!"

"Well," Mrs Doran was struggling to keep her voice even, "you got the question wrong, Brick. Therefore, I cannot award you any more marks than the ones you currently possess."

"But-"

"I have no doubt in my mind that you will be able to catch up to her in no time." She looked upon him kindly, but Brick couldn't shake the small feeling that she was just patronising him. "You're such a brilliant boy, and you've already improved so much since the start of the year!" A warm smile crossed her face and some of the pressure on his chest eased. Just some. "You're even placed second in the class now!"

Second to her , he couldn't help but think bitterly, his features settling back in an accepting frown.

He hated this.

Mrs Doran sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Go home, Brick, school's over already."

He left the classroom, his bag carelessly hanging from his right shoulder and his five-marks-short test paper weighing ten encyclopedias in his hands.

Brick was not feeling it.

The longer he stared at his marks, the worse he felt, and the worse he felt, the more anger rose, but he just couldn't tear his eyes away from the stupid ninety-five that had killed all his hopes and flushed his efforts down Pokey Oaks' dirtiest toilet bowl.

"Hey! Stop! Give it back!"

Brick looked up from his paper, his ears picking up a very familiar yet annoying voice.

Of course it had to be that stupid Powerpuff Girl. Had she been waiting for him to get out, so as to rub her perfect score in? Honestly, he wouldn't put it past her. He rolled his eyes. He was in no mood to deal with her shit right now; he needed to get to the canteen to get his lunch. Some food just might make him feel better.

"Really, stop it, or I'm gonna-"

"You're gonna what, exactly? Call the teacher?"

Well, that was new.

His interest piqued, he focused his vision on where the noise was coming from.

At the end of the corridor, just past the staircase to the canteen that he was heading for, stood a group of girls. Among them, of course, was his nemesis and long-term rival, Blossom fricking Utonium. She was surrounded by three other girls that he was quite sure were in his class as well. The tallest among them, a skinny, long-legged girl with sleek black hair, held a thin stack of papers above her head. It swayed in the wind, and upon closer inspection, Brick determined that it was his rival's Math paper.

The bright red, circled 'one hundred' on the top right corner gave it away

His eyes narrowed at the group. It did not seem like a friendly gathering, what with Blossom's furrowed brows and tensed stance, and the malicious grin on the tall girl's face. The dark looks on the girls' faces further supported his hypothesis.

"Not so tough without your sisters now, huh, Miss Perfect?" Tall Girl drawled, and Brick didn't like her tone one bit.

"Stop it, Victoria," Blossom said, tone hard, and the cold fury burning in her eyes was familiar to Brick.

"Look, you Know-It-All," the Victoria girl bent down to stare into Blossom's eyes evenly. "I'm not one of your Powerpuff Girls, so you're not the boss of me. You don't get to tell me what I should, or should not do."

Blossom's eyes widened, and she drew back slightly. She then attempted to stand taller, but Brick could clearly see her knees trembling.

God damn it. Brick rolled his eyes. What was his stupid counterpart doing, letting that tall girl trample all over her? She was a superhuman; why wasn't she using her powers? She'd bested even him in battle before, he knew she had it in her to beat these dumb humans to a pulp. So why on earth was she still trying to play nice?!

"Oh, yeah," Victoria started, her voice laced with contempt, "you got full marks on this test, right?" She looked up at the paper for confirmation. "You stupid teacher's pet," she spat. "I bet Mrs Doran gave you the answers to all these, didn't she? You're such a little suck up."

"Stop accusing me of things I didn't do." Her voice was smaller than he'd ever heard it - and trust him, he'd heard it so many times, he was utterly sick of it - before, much softer than her usual commanding tone. It irritated him.

"I don't want to have to resort to violence, Victoria." She continued, and he could hear the pounding of her heart from this distance. 

What was she still doing, trying to play a little peacemaker?! She could easily snap their necks and freeze their fingers off, could throw punches that made them cough up blood and beam holes through their stomachs in a simple instance, but she wasn't. Doing. A God damned. Thing. And it pissed him off. Unbelievably.

He blinked, suddenly aware of the situation he was in. What was he still doing here? He'd just wanted to get to the canteen, this stupid girl drama had nothing to do with him, so why was he still watching? And was he… defending that pink-eyed Powerpuff? No, no, he was just... admitting that she was strong. And it was the truth, she was strong. Not as strong as him, though. Jesus Christ, he needed to get his brain checked.

"You're too scared to do anything to me, you goody-two-shoes," there was a haughty glint in Victoria's eye.

"Victoria, if you don't stop this now and give me back my paper, I'll be taking this up with the principal. He won't be happy about-"

"Oh, so you think because you're so awfully smart, you get to boss me around like you do everyone else?" Victoria challenged, lowering her hands to shove at the shorter girl, "Get off your high horse and shut up, you nerdy freak, nobody likes you."

Absolutely none of his business.

Brick had better things to do than deal with this crap. Like eating.

He looked longingly at the staircase and then back to the group of girls. Blossom was still shaking, and she'd reeled back at Victoria's words, eyes flashing with an emotion close to hurt. His gut wrenched. The whole shitshow was ridiculous, but it still didn't sit right with him.

He adjusted his cap. Stupid counterpart and her stupid inability to deal with bullies. Stupid bullies and their stupid tendency to gang up on people. Everything was stupid.

"God damn it."

"Hey." Brick didn't know why he walked past the staircase and up to them. He probably never would. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, it's you." Victoria gave him a bored look. "This has nothing to do with you. Don't go sticking your nose into our business."

"Step away from her." He said. He injected as much authority as he could into his tone, and was pleasantly surprised when the two lackeys actually started doing as he commanded.

Victoria glared at them and they stopped inching away, planting their feet in the floor as their eyes darted from him to their leader, probably weighing which was the bigger threat.

"What are you doing, Jojo?" Victoria's eyes were slits. "I thought you were the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys. Miss Nerd over here should be your nemesis." Her lip curled vilely. "Why are you… dare I say, sticking up for her?"

He scoffed. "As if." His gaze pierced into hers. "It's just as you said, she's my nemesis, so she's mine to torment." Chemical X thrummed beneath his skin. "Go find yourself a new nemesis to torment, this one's taken."

"I found her first, Brick Jojo." Her brave front was but a facade. His eyes didn't fail to catch the trembling of her knees.

"Let's put it this way, alright? I really don't like the vibe you're giving me right now, or your faces in general." His irises glowed a dark, menacing crimson. "No particular reason, I just really don't like them."

Nodding slightly towards Blossom, he continued. "And unlike Everything Nice over there," Brick held out his palm and let a flame flicker to life on it, "my reputation is in no way a positive one. The Bludgeoner , remember?" He slid a nefarious smile on his face. "If I don't like you, I'm not afraid to hurt you." With another pump of Chemical X, the fire licked higher at the air, burning brighter and hotter than before. "Now get your ugly faces out of my sight."

They didn't need to be told twice, scampering away like a bunch of rats.

"Tch. Hope they roll down the stairs and break their necks, the intolerable shits," he closed his fist and extinguished the flame, bringing the room's temperature back to normal.

He turned to his counterpart, who stood, rooted to the ground in surprise of the sudden turn of events, at the same spot as just now. The mere sight of her brought back something akin to anger, but not quite, bubbling in his chest.

And then she opened her mouth. "Brick?"

"You're absolutely pathetic." He spat viciously, his jaw set. He picked up her paper from the floor - that Victoria girl had abandoned it in her rush to escape - and moved to hand it to her, but thought better of it and flung it in her face instead.

She sputtered as the paper came into contact with her face, hands scrambling to grasp it properly. He frowned. What in hell had happened to his usually composed counterpart? The girl that stood before him acted nothing like her normal self.

"What's wrong with you?!" He sneered, anger inexplicably flaring in his chest, "Why didn't you do anything back there?!"

Her eyes narrowed. "I did do something, you jerk! I-"

"Gave meaningless threats that we both know you aren't going to follow through with anyway!" He rolled his eyes. "You let them trample all over you like you were some piece of useless garbage !"

She flushed. "I did not !"

"What has the great ' Commander and Leader ' come to?" He jeered, "Unable to settle a bunch of bullies by herself. You're a Super , for God's sake! Act like one!"

"I-" She glared at him. "If I'd used my powers, I would have ended up damaging school property! And I would have hurt them too!"

"Cut the nice act, Pinky," he snarled, "stop worrying about other people and think about yourself for a God damned change." His teeth grit briefly. "They were bullying you , Miss Smartyskirts, you have the right to stand up for yourself!"

"Besides," he continued, indignation still pushing the words out of his throat, "were you thinking about property damage and hurting me when you fought me in the park last Thursday?"

"You're different from them!"

"And so are you!" He countered. "All the more reason why you shouldn't have needed my help back there!"

"Nobody needed your help," she shot back, "I had it perfectly handled!"

"Say what you like, Pinkypie," he let some of his power leak into the surroundings, his heat clashing against her cold. "Fact remains that I was the one that got them off your back."

"You-"

"And my point remains. Where was all this ," he gestured towards her, "just now?" He shook his head. "God, Utonium, you were so weak back there. How absolutely pathetic."

He didn't wait for her reply, turning back and heading towards his original destination. Screw her, he thought, his bad mood radiating off him in waves of heat, she was just a stupid girl anyway.

When Brick arrived at the table his brothers had settled on, he was still fuming.

"Woah, Brick," Butch looked up at him from the burger in his hands, "are you seriously still hung up over the Math shit?"

"It's not that." He snapped and sat down, pointedly ignoring the concerned looks Boomer threw him.

Why had he even stepped in, anyway? She was an ungrateful priss. If anything, she deserved all that treatment from Victoria and her group. He pulled out his test paper again and stared at it, for lack of anything better to direct his rage at. Stupid ninety-five. Stupid Powerpuff Girl. Stupid bullies. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he was stupid. Why hadn't he just minded his own business? All those things Victoria had said had been right , she was stuck up and bossy and on her high horse all the damn time, but something in the way that Victoria had spoken those words had rubbed him the wrongest way, and that Pinkypie's stupid shaking -

"Um, Brick?" Boomer spoke up tentatively. Brick turned his focus onto his youngest brother, and his glare lightened when he saw Boomer flinch.

"You were about to burn your paper," Butch snorted and took another bite of his burger.

Brick rolled his eyes and went back to staring daggers at the red ninety-five on his answer sheet.

Most importantly, why hadn't she done anything? He'd said worse things, done worse things, and never in those times had she just sat back and pulled out empty threats to use on him. She'd always stared back fiercely at him, thrown words like knives that were aimed to hurt (though they bounced right off him, or course, he wouldn't have let some silly words wound him), and there had always been this fire blazing in her eyes as she shot down his insults and proved him wrong, but that same fire had been absent today. Maybe that was what had unnerved him the most, he guessed. She was Blossom . She wasn't supposed to lose to anyone , much less three human girls.

But he took in his score on the paper again, recalled the apparent irritation across her features when she'd said ' she hadn't needed his help ', and a sickening feeling twisted in his gut. Honestly, he shouldn't have helped her. He hadn't gained anything from it anyway, and it was just going to be weird the next time he saw her. What had he been thinking? It had been absolutely none of his business.

"Watch the paper, big bro," Butch's voice cut through his thoughts. "Wouldn't wanna see your precious ninety-five up in flames."

And everything went to shit.

Brick felt something swell up in him, something hot and raging and pulsing in his chest that he desperately needed to release because what did Butch know about putting in hard work and watching it achieve nothing ? Butch didn't put in effort for anything ; he was useless, useless, useless , and so was she , standing there quietly and taking all of their shit –

" Shut up ," he hissed, shooting up and grabbing his green-eyed brother by the collar, and his throat burned with the desire to scath. "You don't know anything ."

Butch's forest green eyes glinted with something maniacal. "What're you gonna do about it?" The middle child said hoarsely, a deranged smile sliding onto his face.

Brick almost gave in, almost reared his fist and sunk it into Butch's stomach, almost opened his mouth to burn his brother's face off with a searing breath, but he was stopped.

Boomer came in between them, ducking beneath his two older brothers and shoving them apart. He turned to Brick, blonde curls bouncing angrily against his forehead. "What's wrong with you?!" He cried, eyes filled with a confused vexation, "You've been edgy all day, and suddenly you're starting a fight with Butch ?! What the hell, man?!"

And suddenly all the consuming resentment was gone, leaving only the fast beating of his heart and a smoking sensation in his chest, like a fire had just been doused.

Slinging his bag over one shoulder, he left, not once looking back. Brick had had enough of this shit; he was going home.

Of course he met her on his way out. Of. God damned. Course.

And it was by the stupid staircase again. God , Brick swore it was cursed. Why had he decided to take this exit?

They made eye contact, and something swirled in his stomach. He hoped she didn't open her mouth, because literally everything she said seemed to get under his skin, no matter how hard he tried to prevent that from happening, and he was in absolutely no mood to deal with all her bullcrap now.

Quickening his pace, he strode past her. Just when he thought he would be able to get out of the hellhole he called school without further incident, she just had to call him out and ruin all his hopes in the process, but he guessed he should have anticipated it anyway, because who was Blossom Utonium without annoying the shit out of Brick Jojo in every way possible ?

"Wait! Brick–"

And he could have ignored her, could have walked off and not said a word, could have taken off and gone home in an instant, but something in the way she had said it made him pause, made him replay it in his head and interpret it as a plea , which he took in with equal amounts of horror and curiosity, because Blossom Utonium never pleaded with him. It made him stop and whirl around, aggravated, and he hated it.

"What do you want?" He snapped vehemently, eyes already near slits, and he watched as she backpedalled a little and put on a defensive front.

"I only asked you to wait a little," she crossed her arms and furrowed her brows at him, "don't have to get all crabby on me."

He rolled his eyes and moved to turn back towards the school gates. He should have known she was nothing but a waste of his time.

"No! Wait!"

He was jerked back, something small and slim in his left hand that was preventing him from leaving. He looked down at his side.

It was a hand. Her hand.

She was holding his hand .

They both seemed to come to the same realisation at the same time, pulling away quickly and rubbing their hands on their uniforms.

"Look," she said, the lightest tint of pink dusting her cheeks, "I just wanted- wanted to..." She let out a noise of frustration from the back of her throat. "I just wanted to say..."

"Spit it out already." If he rolled his eyes any more, they might get permanently stuck up there.

" Thank you , okay?!" She wasn't looking at him.

Brick blinked.

"For... for helping me back there, I mean." She was adamant on not making eye contact. "Thank you."

"Oh." What else was he supposed to say? No problem? That would be a lie. Everything she did caused him problems one way or another, and this had been no exception.

"I guess... my brain just sorta blanked back there," her gaze was fixated on the ground, "I mean, it was the first time I'd encountered one of those... you know?" She made a small gesture with her hands before letting them fall back at her sides. "I was kind of shocked, I guess. To hear those things coming from someone else's mouth." Her posture slumped a bit. "To know that people actually thought that way about me."

That sense of wrongness swallowed him again. "They were just being jealous idiots," he said, surprising himself as the words left his mouth. "You're not actually like that." There was a strange lightness to his chest as soon as he finished.

Blossom finally looked up, and when he looked into her eyes it felt as if he got sucker punched in the stomach. She smiled, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless, and that feeling only intensified. "Thanks."

The silence that came immediately after was tense and awkward, because this... this felt... nice . And they'd never been nice with each other before. This was new and unexplored territory, a land that made his gut wrench weirdly. It was strange.

"I- I'll still be beating you on that next Math test, though!" He spoke up, because the silence was getting too much, and mentally patted himself on the back. Bring up the rivalry. Back onto familiar ground. Good job, Brick.

He could've sworn she gave the tiniest relieved sigh before she scoffed. "As if! I've already learned the next chapter!"

"Well, I'm going home now to learn the next two today!" He threw back, already feeling Chemical X flow throughout his body as he prepared for takeoff.

She snorted. "You can try , but I'll always win in the end."

Seeing that competitive shine back in her coral eyes did the most abnormal things to his chest, and he felt his heart squeeze tightly.

"We'll see."

He pushed off, feeling the wind press harshly against his face and delve through the strands of his hair as he flew, his heart considerably less heavy.

(No matter what Him said, he definitely was not still smiling when he got home.)

Chapter Text

In hindsight, Brick knew truth or dare hadn't been a good idea.

Especially with his brothers.

He blamed Boomer, though, because that stinking blonde shit knew Brick couldn't resist his ocean blue puppy-dog eyes, but had gone and used them anyway, like the major asshole he was, and Brick had surrendered. He swore to God, nobody could resist Boomer's puppy dog eyes. Absolutely no one.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, concluded the pitiful origin story of how Brick Jojo had come to be in this pathetic predicament.

"So, truth or dare, Red?" Butch propped his elbow up on the canteen table and rested his cheek against his palm in a casual manner.

Brick rolled his eyes. "Truth."

"Don't be a wimp, Brick," Boomer whined, "you're no fun! 'Truth' is all you've been choosing this whole time!"

"Fine, fine," Brick snapped, giving another roll of his eyes, "dare, whatever." His brothers were so irritating. Why couldn't they just let him be?

"Go up to Blossom and hold her hand for thirty seconds." Butch said, calmly inspecting his nails. The action eerily reminded Brick of their more… feminine "father-figure", and he narrowed his eyes at his brother before the implication of the words hit.

Brick was taken over by a sudden coughing fit, his eyes wide in surprise and a choking sensation emerging at the back of his throat. He wiped at the corners of his mouth and glanced up at his supposed "brothers", only to align his gaze with their devious smirks and gleeful eyes.

They'd planned this; what the fuck.

Brick Jojo, son - or, to put it more adequately, creation - of Mojo Jojo and Him, regretted everything.

He regretted not flushing himself back down the toilet bowl in the prison cell Mojo had created them in, he regretted not flying the fuck out of Townsville as soon has he'd gotten the chance, and most importantly, he regretted agreeing to sit with his brothers during lunch. (He would trade just about anything to get Mike Believe's incessant preachings about football games back at this point.)

This was a horrible, horrible game.

"What did you say?" He started slowly, narrowing his eyes and focusing his most intimidating glare on his green-eyed brother. There was no way Brick was going to do that stupid dare. No way in hell.

"You heard me, big bro, you know exactly what I just said." Butch was unfazed, his smirk ever-present and his forest-green gaze all-knowing. Damn it.

There was nothing to know, Brick thought immediately. Nothing.

The one thing he did know, though, was that his brothers were getting immune; Brick really needed to use The Glare less to make it more effective when he actually needed it. Like now.

Boomer was grinning too, and there was no trace of the (falsely, he swore to God, falsely) innocent, pleading look in his eyes from earlier. Brick had traitorous little shits for brothers.

"Do it! Do it! Do it!" His blonde brother started chanting, and Butch joined in shortly. Brick was starting to question whether they were truly related or not. (Or, well, as related as three superboys created with the same ingredients in the same toilet bowl could be.) Brothers weren't supposed to betray each other.

Brick stood up. He had had enough of this. He wasn't going to let anyone tell him what to do, least of all Butch and Boomer.

"What's wrong, Brick? Scared?"

Brick tensed. Slowly turning around, he felt a cool anger build up in him. Who was Butch to decide what he was? He wasn't scared, this was just a mindless, stupid game that served absolutely no purpose and that he wasn't even remotely interested in playing. He inhaled and squashed down his irritation.

"No," he said coolly, "you're just an idiot. I didn't want to play this game in the first place anyway."

"Oh?" Boomer chimed in, "From what I'm seeing here, you're just backing out, big bro."

Brick scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're the one who forcefully dragged me into this mess. I never wanted anything to do with it in the first place. Since I didn't join of my own free will, I'm not backing out of anything."

"Save your fanciful shit, Bricky boy," Butch raised his brows in a taunting manner, while Brick bristled at the use of Him's nickname for him, "sounds like you're just a scaredy-cat."

"Scaaaredy-caaat," Boomer drawled, very unhelpfully.

Brick's brow ticked. Stay calm, he reasoned with himself, they're just trying to get a rise out of you.

"Would you look at that," Butch said, an exaggeratedly pitiful expression on his face, "little Bricky wicky's scared of a little hand holding."

Brick was going to throttle somebody. Preferably his two brothers, but the person who came up with Truth Or Dare would be fine too.

"Scaaaredy-caaat," Boomer drawled, again, pushing all the non-existent buttons on his fucking shirt, and that was it.

He wasn't about to sit there and let those two disrespect him and get away with it.

"Jesus Christ- fine!" Brick spat, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, "Fuck you, I'll fucking do it." He'd show his brothers, he wasn't scared of a measly little dare, how dare they even suggest-

"Go, then. We're waiting." Butch raised an arrogant, insolent eyebrow and looked him dead in the eye, and Brick really wanted to punch that smirk off his face right now.

He leaned in and fisted his hand into the neckline of Butch's shirt, pulling his green-eyed brother's stupid face closer to his. "Sure, but don't you ever talk to me like that again." He kept his voice low, dangerous, and his gaze was an icy glare, the heat of his annoyance simmering just below the surface. He took immense satisfaction in the way Butch gulped.

"Yes, Boss," the black-haired boy raised two fingers to his forehead in a salute, and Brick let go of him.

Boomer, struggling to hide his grin after seeing what happened to Butch, very kindly pointed out that the Girls were seated at the table in the corner opposite of theirs.

Brick stormed off in that direction, intentionally choosing the path that would take him the longest time to reach his destination, and buried his face in his hands.

Not even two seconds after he left, his brothers burst into uncontrollable laughter behind him, and Brick heard the distinct sound of two hands clapping together.

Whirling around, he flipped them the bird and continued on his way.

Their laughter continued to ring in his ears and he clenched his fist.

Brick really wanted to commit homicide.

Why? Just- why?

Brick didn't think he would ever know. His brothers were all absolute idiots. Trying to set him up with her? Ridiculous. They were out of their minds.

They'd all matured considerably since their kindergarten days - they'd called a truce two years ago, when they were twelve and tired of butting heads all the time. Many people had many different reactions to the truce. Bubbles and Boomer accepted it eagerly, Butch and Buttercup complained about it for weeks, while Blossom and him had just been exhausted. Needless to say, Mojo and Him hadn't been too thrilled when the information had been presented to them over dinner that one night, but Mojo had been in the process of taking over Farmsville to satisfy his corn craving, and Him had been too busy dealing with a group of rebelling demons, so they'd dismissed it fairly quickly.

While the Blues, as Butch had put it, got along swimmingly after being deskmates for a term, the - adequately named - Reds and Greens were nowhere near that level of companionship.

Butch and Buttercup, as previously mentioned, had not taken too well to the truce. They started fights at least thrice a week, be it in hallways or the canteen or the basketball court, if it weren't for the fact that Butch had the literal devil for a father and said devil was able to conjure up money with the clicking of his claws, Brick's family would be bankrupt after all the damage repair costs.

After that one incident where the two of them destroyed half of a school block in a particularly heated battle, the Greens were banned from having their fights in school. That did not deter them, though, they traded insults whenever the other was in the room, and continued to have their fights in the middle of the forest around the outskirts of Townsville. The two had made up... somehow, and now were just shy of being best friends. Those training sessions were still ongoing now, if Brick remembered correctly.

Brick and Blossom, however, were rivals, in every sense of the word. Brick continued to go against everything she said, and she his, to the point where they would have debates across the classroom almost every day. He smirked when he remembered the last time they'd fought. A few curtains had caught on fire, and the floor had turned into a skating rink by the time they had finished. (Brick had won, naturally.)

They still competed in terms of grades, of course. (He firmly believed there would never come a time when they would not.) While Brick excelled in Physics and History, Blossom did best in Biology and Math. (She always had, he thought rather sourly.) They tied on Chemistry, Geography and English — they were still battling for number one spot on all those three subjects, but Brick swore to fucking God, every time he thought he had the upper hand, she'd pull a one-eighty and emerge on top the next test.

They were rivals.

Which was why it was incredibly absurd that his... brothers thought he and that... that girl... no. There was nothing going on.

They didn't hate each other anymore, but Jesus Christ, the truce didn't make her any less annoying at all.

Her voice was everywhere. How the fuck she managed to be in his hearing range at least three quarters of the school day, he didn't know, but somehow her voice always seemed to stand out and find its way into his ears. God, was she loud, or what?

But back to the situation at hand. There was no way out of this. Not if he wanted to keep his pride, he meant. It would be so easy to fly out of the school and back home. Butch'd get there in the next second, though, and annoy him to no end. Boomer would immediately post some shit on social media, and the reputation that Brick had built up? Gone in an instant.

Fucking brothers. Why did he live with them again? Brick swore he was going to move out on the day he turned eighteen. What bliss, to get away from the two of them. A bliss that could only live in the figments of his imagination for now.

His paused in his tracks, catching movement at the corner of his eye. Fixing his gaze back on his brothers, he almost flew back to where they were just to give them a good strangling. The last strands of his control held him back, however, a fact he mentally patted himself on the back for.

Those fools were holding LED sign boards that said "GO" and "BRICK", and they were waving it around in the air like a bunch of madmen. How fucking long had they been planning this for?! LED sign boards? Really?

He'd gladly take up Buttercup's offer from two years ago on "killing him" right now. He was related to those two idiots... why?

They were right, though. Brainless as they were, Brick had to do this.

Keep your head held high, Brick, he squared his shoulders and walked up to the Girls' table, this is for your pride.

He regretted his huge fucking ego.

"Hello, Brick!" Bubbles chirped, beaming at him cheerfully. He was once again reminded of how alike she and Boomer were. Same bright blue eyes, same bright blonde hair, same bright, annoying positivity. Nevertheless, he gave a noncommittal grunt in response.

What? Brick Jojo wasn't rude. Not to bubbly blondes that reminded him of his baby brother, at least. "Only be rude to those who deserve it," Mojo had said, once, when they'd been way younger. So what if most of the world deserved it? Wasn't his problem.

"Hey." Buttercup glanced at him sparingly and looked away, earphones plugged in and her fingers tapping to the beat of the music.

Brick did not reply. Firstly, even if he did, she probably wouldn't hear him. Secondly, she absolutely deserved it. Buttercup Utonium made a point to blow up some part of his Minecraft house every single time she came over to play the Xbox with Butch, which was at least four times a week. Absolute bitch. (He blew her house to smithereens when he found out the first time, of course, and had happily collected the materials that once formed it. She camped out at Butch's place now.)

"What are you doing here?" Blossom raised a dubious eyebrow at him, scrutinising him carefully. Something seemed to catch her eye in the distance and her pink orbs widened. "And why are Butch and Boomer holding a 'GO BRICK' sign?"

Brick felt embarrassment creep lightly into his cheeks. Fucking BROTHERS. He swore he was going to castrate them after this was over.

"I..." He started, unable to continue. How was he supposed to do this?

"Are you okay?" Blossom narrowed her eyes at him, I'm still waiting for an answer."

"I- It's just-" He stood uncomfortably, his hands hanging awkwardly from his arms. Hands. Holding. Dare. Right. Fuck.

"Spill." She interrogated, and fuck, even Buttercup was staring at him now. He hoped his brothers were ready to get skinned alive with a potato peeler.

"I-" His cheeks felt insanely hot. "This is a dare."

He reached out to grab her hand and fitted her palm against his own.

"What are you doing?!" Shrieked Blossom, staring weirdly at their linked hands, just as cheers exploded from the table at the opposite corner of the canteen.

Ignoring a furiously red Blossom, Brick turned to face the causes of his demise. Butch and Boomer had pulled out a new LED board. Again, how, he didn't know shit. Only God knew how long they'd been planning this at this point. The new board was a timer, counting down from thirty seconds.

At least they'd thought this part through; he'd been wondering how it would go.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" Blossom tugged viciously on his hand, and he tightened his grip on her hand to prevent her from letting go. If she escaped, and Brick had to do this again... no. He wasn't going to take any chances.

"Christ!" He cursed, spinning back to meet his eyes with hers. "Keep still, woman! I didn't want to do this either!"

She stared back defiantly, her normally pale cheeks so very red. "I just- dare?!" She sputtered, "Who- and why?!"

He rolled his eyes, desperately pushing aside the annoying voice in his head that was insistent on reminding him that he was holding her fucking hand. "Butch and Boomer, who else?!" He spat bitterly, because those two names explained everything. Oh, the torture he would inflict upon them as soon as this was over. They were in for a lifetime of hell.

"Oh, my God," she groaned, her fingers fluttering over the back of his hand. His skin tickled where her fingers had skimmed over it and goosebumps rose across his arm.

Her palm did not feel smooth. The feeling of her hand in his did not make his skin tingle, did not make it harder for him to breathe and he did not have to resist the urge to clutch her hand tighter.

"Just- don't hold it so tightly." She shot him a light glare and wriggled her fingers as soon as his grip loosened.

"Sorry," he grumbled, and it came out a little rougher than he had intended it to. There were still ten seconds. What the fuck.

"Hey, try to be a little more sincere, will you?" Her lips curved downwards in a light frown and he felt the tiniest hint of guilt worm its way into his - very suppressed - conscience. "I'm doing you a favour here."

Still. "I was forced into this, okay?" He defended, wishing that he could cut off all feeling in his hand. Why the fuck was this making him feel things?!

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero!

He ripped his hand away from hers quickly, his flight instincts kicking in and causing him to edge towards the nearest escape route.

Mere seconds later, the saxaphone intro to Careless Whisper played, and he whirled onto his brothers, who were laughing their asses off on the floor.

A frenzied and embarrassed rage took over, and Brick shot over to them, fully intending to sink his fist into Boomer's stupid blonde face.

"Boomer, you little SHIT!"

The first thing Brick noticed was that the room was cold, wherever he was. He drew on his X and tried to raise the room's temperature, but nothing answered to his call, no matter how hard he focused. The room was just as cold as ever.

Where was he, even?

That was when he noticed the second thing - his hand was the only warm part of him.

He looked down and was surprised to find that his hand was covered by another one. His eyes traced the hand to its source, and as his eyes took in the hand's owner, his heart seemed to kick-start and he was immensely aware of every steady beat of his heart.

Blossom. What was she doing here? Where were they?

She curled her fingers into the spaces between his, and he couldn't help but stare at them. Their hands, woven together like some tapestry, fitting perfectly like two jigsaw puzzles, her warmth enveloping his cold, and it felt... nice.

He hadn't had enough time to properly feel it earlier, what with all the embarrassment and crowd and his brothers, but her hand was so soft. It was soft and small and Brick really liked how it felt against his skin. He pushed their palms closer together experimentally, tightening his fingers around hers and was pleasantly surprised when she didn't draw away.

He tapped his fingertips against the back of her hand lightly, relaxing and closing his eyes as he soaked in the wholeness of the situation.

She was really quiet, for some reason. Was she enjoying this just as much as he was?

She leaned in just as he was thinking, pressing their shoulders together and leaning her weight onto him. It felt... good.

And suddenly, her face was right in front of his, her lips just barely drifting above his, they looked pink and supple and he-

It was one in the morning when Brick shot up in bed, chest rising and falling heavily as his mind struggled to process his latest dream.

His right hand - the hand he'd used to hold hers - was so, very warm.

"No."

He flung himself out of bed and rushed into the direction of Him's room, his feet pattering against the cool marble floor.

"What did you do?!" Brick demanded angrily, flinging open the doors.

The devil jumped up from his throne and shoved something that looked suspiciously like a cat into the shadows below it.

"What was that?" Brick narrowed his eyes.

"Nothing important," Him dismissed with a wave of his claw. Another wave, and a teapot along with two teacups materialised, hovering in the air before the devil.

"Care for a cup of midnight tea?" Him said calmly, taking an even sip of his tea.

"No sane person would have tea at this hour," Brick rolled his eyes and glared at his father. "What did you do to me? Come clean."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand." Him swirled the tea in his cup.

"Don't lie. You know. My..." Brick grit out, "my dream."

"Your dream?" The devil raised a dark eyebrow. "Got a nightmare, sweetie?"

"No!" His face flushed when he recalled how close Blossom had been in that fucking dream, how his breath had caught in his throat and how he'd wished she'd come closer. Definitely not a nightmare.

"Then what seems to be the problem?" There was genuine curiosity in Him's eyes.

"You did something to me, I know you did." Brick shook his head. "There's no way..."

Him sighed dramatically and set down his tea cup in mid-air. "I haven't touched you and your brothers' dreams in years, Brick, you know that." At this, the devil grinned. "Which means, whatever you've just dreamed?" Brick's father paused, and Brick steeled himself for the fact that was about to be thrown at him.

"It's all you, honey," Him took a long-drawn sip of his tea.

All... him.

Brick thought of her, of her round, round eyes and glittering copper hair, of the weight of her hand and the plushness of her lip, and-

"Fuck."

Chapter Text

Brick was just going to put it out there — he hadn't wanted any of this.

He hadn't wanted the chalet, nor the pool, nor the loud, blaring music and the bass pounding in his ears. Extra sensitive ears, mind you. X-hearing here.

He'd been perfectly content with doing the usual — booing at bad TV shows with his brothers on their old couch, six boxes of greasy, large-sized pizzas stacked up on the table as they walked around the house with the same shirts they'd worn for days in a row. Butch'd throw popcorn at the screen that Boomer would clean up later, he'd glare at his brothers for attempting to swipe at his popcorn – because Brick made the best popcorn out of the three of them and they all knew it – and Boomer'd pull out some spare candles that Brick'd light, and Butch would make it a game to stick them between the olive rings, and at eleven fifty-nine p.m., just right before their birthday ended, they'd blow out the candles together. Butch would then proceed to devour the whole pizza, sometimes with the candles, and there would always be a bucket of water in the corner in case Butch burned himself of Brick got so agitated he set something on fire. If all else failed there would be Boomer, always ready with a small can of whipped cream in place of a fire extinguisher.

They'd been doing it for years and they hadn't had a problem – or, a major problem – with it ever . It was a special day for them and it was special to them. It was tradition, it was a part of their lives, it was uniquely theirs.

But somehow, this year, Boomer had gotten it into his head that they had to "switch things up a little", because it was their "sweet sixteen", and "doing the same old thing again this year would be atrocious". Brick had had a pretty good idea of who'd put that notion into his baby brother's head then.

Just as he'd been about to shoot down the idea, surprise, surprise. Butch chimed in and agreed, of all the ridiculous things. (Top ten anime betrayals, as Boomer would say.)

It had two against one. Brick had seen no point in fighting – after all, it was just another day – and let them take the reigns, for once. Butch had looked downright gleeful while Boomer had been shocked that he'd even agreed at all. Brick had wondered, looking at them, if he was going to regret it.

Standing here, in the rented chalet with bright, colourful lights flashing and burning his eyes, accompanied with the shittiest music playlist he had ever heard in his life, Brick could look past him in the eye and say with no hesitation: yes, he regretted it.

He probably should have been more insistent when Boomer had refused to show him the party plans a few weeks back, or when he'd seen the Blues huddled together over the table barely five days ago, but Boomer had been so excited by the whole prospect, Brick hadn't had it in him to.

The sun had set over an hour ago, not that he had had the chance to watch it, considering he'd been swamped by people presenting their shit-for-gifts and unleashing torrent after torrent of "happy birthday"'s. He'd barely just gotten away from all those annoying people, and the buzzing of words in his ears had faded to a mild hum.

A loud giggle broke through said hum, and he didn't even have to glance around to find the source. His eyes were already on her, had witnessed her lips turn up at the corners as laughter trickled from her mouth like a brook, had committed to memory the crinkling of her eyes as she gave in to mirth, had burned into his mind the deepening of the shade of pink on her smooth cheeks.

Her ginger tresses were let down tonight — soft waves barely perceptible but indefinitely there, shining a light golden under the lights of the dance floor. She was bow-less, the ribbon that usually held her hair together was wrapped around her wrist, contrasting nicely against her pale skin. The silk white gown she wore – and she wore it well , he thought to himself, then paused and banished the stray opinion from his mind – flowed down to the end of her calves, only just brushing against the top of her ankles. The dress was modest — although her shoulders and arms were bare, the neckline of the dress only exposed her collarbones. 

Her collarbones were nice, he noted.

(A small voice in his head asked him why he was staring and going over every detail of her appearance, but he snuffed the voice out and tossed it into the back of his mind where all the small voices dwelled.)

He hadn't talked to her at all the entire time he was here - he'd been too busy doing this, doing that, and... the fact that he stayed on the opposite side of her in the room every single time did not say anything. Not that he wanted to talk to her. They would have nothing to talk about. They were hardly even friends .

Their siblings tried vehemently to change that, though, he would give them that. Their persistence in that area was incredibly commendable. (Though, he did wish Butch and Boomer would execute that same persistence in terms of their studies. He swore he would never stay up giving them a crash course on, and he quoted, "whatever the fuck had happened in Math", ever again.) From having group study dates at each other's places, to inviting them to all go out to the movies together, to straight up ditching them in the shopping mall while they were getting groceries for everyone. Oh, Brick had given his brothers the silent treatment for days for that one, and if a few creepers had spawned in Butch's chest room, blowing up all his diamonds and causing them to despawn, that had been none of Brick's business.

They did pair up in group projects a few times, though. But that was it, and it was only because they shared many classes, and Brick hadn’t (and still didn’t) particularly wanted to socialise with the rest of the class to find a competent partner. It helped that they got top scores whenever they paired up. She seemed fine with it, too, so that was that.

He watched as she took another sip from her glass of orange juice, while he unconsciously raised his own cup of water to his lips. She’d been drinking it the entire evening, and Brick honestly wondered how any being could ingest that much citrus in a night. 

Robin, whom she’d been holding conversation with for a while now, suddenly caught his eye and winked at him. 

Fuck.

Heart pounding and the tips of his ears burning, he ripped his gaze away from them. Had she–? No. A sense of shame at being caught wiggled its way through his chest and he swept his fingers beneath his cap, threading his fingers through his hair and tugging on them. Wait. Why was he– there was nothing to be ashamed about. He hadn’t been caught doing anything!

His eyes were allowed to work, weren’t they? It wasn’t his fault he could see! He’d just so happened to see her! That was all there was to it. Robin Snyder was the one seeing things. She was probably going senile, winking at him for no goddamn reason.

When he’d calmed down enough to turn back to them, both girls were no longer there. Instead, Robin stood, alone, against the table of drinks, smirking slyly at him from above the rim of her cup. 

He swept his gaze across the room to find the girl who’d been with her, and his eyes fell on the redhead in the long, white dress making her way to him.

“Hey.” Blossom greeted, and leaned against the wall next to him.

“Hey,” he said back, mildly surprised by her advancement. She looked better up close, with her bangs framing her face nicely and locks of hair falling over her shoulder.

She must have noted the quizzical look in his eye, and she drank more of her orange juice before answering. “You looked like you needed company,” she offered as a way of explanation.

Brick scoffed slightly. “I sure as hell don’t; what gave you that idea?”

She shot him a look as dry as Butch's eyes after he pulled an all-nighter watching anime. “Teen boy standing almost pitifully alone in a corner at his own birthday party,” she said pointedly.

“Maybe I want to be alone,” He countered, bristling slightly. 

She blinked and made a move to leave. “Well, if you insist…”

Wait, he almost called, don’t– He stomped down the pathetic pleading, scanning the room for an excuse before she really left, and his eyes landed on the perfect justification for the words that next left his lips.

“I wouldn’t advise going back to Snyder,” he drawled, and took a gulp of water for his parched throat. “She seems pretty preoccupied to me.”

And preoccupied, she was, if not shown by how aggressively she was sucking on Mike Believe’s face, then by how passionately the latter was responding. Brick personally didn’t think Robin was going to be unoccupied for a long time.

Blossom seemed to agree, a grimace sliding onto her face as she respectfully diverted her gaze away from them. She leaned back against the wall and Brick felt a weight lift from his chest.

"Well," she said, turning her head and giving him a sidelong glance, "guess you'll have to get your alone time later, then."

He hid his smile behind his cup. "A tragedy, indeed."

"What are you doing all the way out here, anyway?" She gestured to the people in the room. "Isn't this your party?"

"Not mine," he corrected, "more Boomer's and Butch's than my kind of thing.” He missed the couch already.

She nodded slowly. “Can tell.”

Brick indicated vaguely to the same crowd she had before. “I mean… people.”

“Shy, huh?” 

“You wish.”

“Prove it, then,” a challenge sparked in her coral eyes. “Get out there and dance with me.”

He froze, and his eyebrows shot up. “What?” 

Blossom laughed, the same joy-laced sound that had caught his attention earlier. “Come on, birthday boy,” she downed all the juice in her cup and turned to him, the look in her eyes sucking all the breath right out of his lungs, “let’s get you to live a little before the night ends.”

And with that, she grasped his hand, threading her fingers through his as she pulled him through the people. 

The small crowd parted for her, this otherworldly woman with flowing, sunset shaded hair and eyes that sparkled like diamonds, draped in glimmering silk and layers of poise. 

She was unnaturally bold today — her shoulders were held with a bigger, more open sort of confidence and her steps were purposeful; resolute. Her hold on his hand as she led them on a pathway to the dance floor was soft but firm, a comfortable sort of cooling. She turned her head back, sending a smirk his way, and he found that this unnatural boldness wasn’t an unwelcome change.

He caught Boomer's shit-eating grin at the back of the room and vigorously mouthed help me, even as Blossom dragged him further into the crowd and his fingers tightened around hers – only so that he wouldn't lose her and get stuck in the middle of these people alone. Boomer gave the universal hand sign for "okay" in response, and Brick almost sighed right there, because thank the Lord he had one relatively nice brother–

Boomer Naruto-ran to Mitch, the DJ, and whispered something to him. Brick watched with a sinking feeling in his stomach as Mitch grinned devilishly and clicked around on his computer.

In seconds, Boomer's favourite song of the century, Careless Whisper, was blasting out of the speakers. The group of people on the dance floor immediately got into their slow dance positions, and of course he and Blossom were swept up in it too.

Brick closed his eyes, inhaled, swallowed down the flames rising in his throat and opened his eyes again. " Are you fucking kidding me." He hissed, glaring desperately at Boomer, who only snickered and high-fived Mitch.

Fuck his brothers. Brick hated them.

Blossom, on the contrary, laughed, and instead of giving him a chastising look for his language, she looped her arms around his neck.

He immediately tensed at the contact, not daring to move or breathe or… anything, really. His stomach felt weird.

Blossom raised an eyebrow. "Have you never slow danced before?"

"It's not–" He hesitated. "It's not… that."

When she continued to fix him with an unimpressed look, he relented, gingerly resting his hands on her waist. His heart hammered in his chest as he waited for her to shake him off, but she hummed in approval instead, starting to sway to the beat.

Blossom Utonium was really full of surprises that night.

"He does like this song a lot, though," she responded to his earlier statement, a light smile spreading on her face, "I still remember the last time he blasted it in school–"

Brick almost choked on the air, and Blossom quickly shut herself up, evidently having fully remembered The Last Time as well.

His face burned from the memory of hands and holding and mortification, and his fingers itched suddenly, for no reason. Her arms weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he was instantaneously aware of the way her fingers skimmed across the skin of his neck.

They refused to make eye contact for the next fifteen seconds. They were fifteen seconds that felt like hours, with his eyes never straying from the lock of hair tucked snugly behind her ear and hers burning a hole into the black-and-red sleeve of his flannel.

It was then that the chorus of the song swooped in to save the day — Boomer couldn't find it in him to resist the temptation, belting the lyrics out so loudly that everyone on the dance floor turned to look at him. Bubbles joined in shortly, (because of course she'd memorised the lyrics to her boyfriend's favourite song ) and their voices melded together to create a sweet harmony of tenor and soprano. By the end of the chorus, people were applauding, but the two of them were looking at each other as if they were the only two in the world.

Blossom wore a fond smile, and he couldn't help but feel the corners of his own lips twitch upwards.

"Quite the couple, aren't they?" She mused softly. He gave a grunt of agreement, glad beyond words that she'd initiated the conversation instead of him.

"Though," Brick said, resisting the urge to gag when he looked back at the two blondes and saw them with their tongues down each other's throats, "he's so whipped, it's embarrassing."

She huffed at him, just like he'd expected her to, and let out a laugh. "I think he's sweet."

He snorted. "What's sweet is how she hasn't dumped him yet." (Brick was grateful for it, though, Lord knew Bubbles wasn't his brother's first, but he could see in the way Boomer looked at her — she was likely to be his last.)

Blossom looked at him, a strange expression on her face, and he suddenly felt bare under her gaze — it was as if she was staring into his very soul, past all the carefully-worn expressions and schooled faces, stripping him right down to who he was at the core. Then she beamed, and Brick wondered if the sun had come back out for a moment, before she readjusted her arms around his neck and stared at him with fresh enthusiasm.

"I saw you dancing with Robin earlier," she teased, amusement glinting in her bubblegum tinted irises.

"Oh." He replied, and felt the unfathomable need to explain himself. "It was a forfeit. I… lost a game of Uno and Bubbles got me to do it to make Mike jealous and man up, I think." 

She hummed and turned her head towards the two brunettes in question. "Looks like it worked." A sudden realisation seemed to flash before her eyes and she whirled on him.

"Wait… you lost?!" Blossom gasped, mocking. She looked left and right dramatically before settling her gaze back on him. "Oh, goodness! Calamity is about to strike! Is the world ending?"

"Shut up," he said, almost a whine, "your sister has insane luck, and you know it!"

She laughed. "You should have known, you sore loser."

"How?!"

"Well, maybe if you had gone to more of those group outing things she set up, you would have known that Bubbles Utonium has never lost a game of Uno in her life." Blossom pressed her lips into a solemn, thin line, although mirth continued to sparkle in the corners of her eyes.

"Wait," a smirk settled onto his face, "that means you've lost to her too, then!"

She breathed in and opened her mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out, and she closed it back shut.

A laugh escaped his lips. "You hypocrite."

She sniffed, playfully imperious, and took advantage of the song change to lead them in what he recognised as simple touch-step dance movements. He followed her effortlessly, and watched smugly as her eyebrows rose.

It was yet another slow song, something he knew, even without looking back to see Boomer and Bubbles watching smugly, was the Blues' fault. Maybe it was time to stop. What was he still doing here, anyway? Dancing in front of a group of people he barely knew? With a girl he was just barely friends with? The situation was going a little too far out of his comfort zone.

But he found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, no matter how hard he tried to look away. Something about the curve of her lips seemed fascinating to him, something about the flitting of her lashes as she blinked was entrancing, even the way she lightly nodded to the beat of the music was enthralling. 

And suddenly she was looking up, colours from the tinted lights flashing across her face, and emotions he couldn't discern swirled in her rose-tinted orbs. Her skin was hued with shades of red and green and blue, but the sight of her still did funny things to his stomach. 

"I don't believe I've said this yet, so," her voice was soft and genuine, "happy birthday, Brick."

His throat was dry and his fingers were just about trembling on her hips. He wished he had his water back.

"Thanks," he said, so quietly only she could hear.

Blossom smiled, and her eyes held a warm sense of intimacy that did evil things to his chest and made his breath seize in his throat.

And suddenly she was there, closer than ever, her nose mere inches from his, and Brick swore his heart stopped for a second. She was swaying lightly on her feet, nowhere close to being in time with the music, but he couldn't find it in himself to care, not when her fingers found their way into the back of his scalp, gently weaving through his hair and leaving burning trails in their wake.

The sensations were overwhelming — he was lightheaded from the adrenaline of being… here; his heart was racing and he'd never felt more warm in his life. 

Their breaths were mingling. She drew closer and closer and closer, while he didn't do anything to stop her. If anything, he found himself wishing that she'd move faster, and as his eyes fell on her lips, he wondered if they'd feel as soft as they looked.

Her eyelids fell shut and she let out a soft, out-of-place giggle, but it only seemed to make her more endearing, somehow. His heart pounded a steady beat into his ears, their noses were barely brushing and his eyes were slowly sliding close, and just a little more–

“Hell yeah, Big Bro!” 

Brick froze. It was as if a fog had suddenly lifted from his mind; he withdrew from her, his hands on her shoulders and pushing her away. He didn’t dare to even catch a glimpse of the look on her face, instead turning towards the source of the sound. 

“Go get some!” A shirtless Butch whooped, and Brick felt his face burn in mortification. Buttercup, right next to his idiot brother, did nothing to help, the crazy witch. Instead, she opted to add oil to the fire and wolf whistle shrewdly.

Brick hated Buttercup Utonium with all his being.

When he turned back, Blossom was still looking at him with a dazed sort of expression on her face. Her cheeks were pink and were glazed over, a certain cloudiness to them that he'd never seen before in his life. Against all odds, she let out an unnaturally high-pitched giggle.

It wasn't like her.

Something struck him, suddenly. Something that made his insides twist with all the implications racing through his mind, and he thought, oh.

"Are you–" He started, but disbelief made the words stick in his throat and he felt like an idiot.

"Fuck," he said, eventually, grabbing her hand as she swayed on her feet again, and led her off the dance floor.

"You're drunk, aren't you." It came out more as a statement than a question, and Brick didn't bother to hide the accusatory tone in his voice.

"D- Drunk?" Blossom blinked up at him blearily from the bench she was sitting on. "No waay… I only drank orange juice this whole time."

He sighed, exasperated. "Who gave you the orange juice?"

"Buuttercup?" She slurred, still looking confused.

"She probably spiked your drink." He said, and Blossom frowned at the edge to his voice.

She reached for him, her hand moving to grasp his, but he pulled back and turned around, resting his arms on the wood of the railing. They were on the front porch of the chalet, surrounded by moonlit trees and the sound of crickets chirping. It was quiet; peaceful. 

His inner self was not.

She stood to follow him, but tripped over her own two feet and fell forwards. Instinctively, his hands shot out to steady her, making sure she was properly supported by the railing before ripping his hands from her bare shoulders as if she was the one with fire powers.

They stood in silence. 

A very awkward silence.

And she was drunk, but that was okay, because whatever the fuck had happened back in there had been a mistake anyway; he'd been caught up in the moment and she hadn't been in the right state of mind – still wasn't, but whatever – and Brick was okay with that. He was.

"You hadn't meant for any of this to happen, had you?" He said, quietly, and immediately regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. Stupid, he thought, she won't even remember any of this tomorrow morning.

"Wha?" Her brows furrowed deeper. He was only vaguely glad she couldn't think straight enough to analyse whatever the fuck had come out of his mouth. He didn't want to analyse whatever the fuck had come out of his mouth.

"Nevermind." He amended quickly, shutting his eyes and turning his face to the trees in the distance.

"No, not 'nevermind'," she said stubbornly, and for a moment Brick felt as if she was sober again. "Tell me." It was a demand.

"No."

"Brick."

"It's nothing."

"Brick." He flinched when her palm made contact with his cheek, forcing him to look at her.

Concern touched the edges of her voice. "What's wrong?" 

Brick wondered how drunk, pink, eyes could look so soulful. "I told you, it's nothing."

She squinted her eyes and scrutinised him for a moment, before her features relaxed. The giddy look was back. "There are two of you now." She giggled, foreign yet familiar. Brick stomped down the bitterness waving its tendrils in the pits of his chest. "Two Bricks. How many Bricks will it take to make a waaall?" 

Her hand slipped from his cheek just as she stumbled into his side, shoulders slumping and eyelids drooping shut. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steady her. "I'm okaayy," she drawled, definitely not.

"Come on," he ignored her ramblings, "you just need to get some rest." He steered her towards the door.

"I'm not tired." She was a bad liar.

"Sure you aren't." He replied, patronising. Cool air burst in his face as they entered the chalet again. He brought her to the couch.

"I'm not," she protested, yawning, but still laid her head down on the armrest anyway.

"I'm... not..." Her eyelids fluttered shut and her breaths evened out as she fell asleep, and he suppressed the smile threatening to form on his lips. A sense of calm washed over as he watched her form rise and fall with each inhale and exhale, and he felt the sudden urge to brush her hair behind her ear. 

No, he thought, as he turned to walk away, but he caught her shivering in the corner of his eye, curling into herself and goosebumps rising on her skin, and before he knew it he was taking off his red-and-black overshirt. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, he thought as he draped the cloth over her shoulders, taking note not to come into any contact with her bare shoulders before standing up straight.

She won’t remember any of this tomorrow. He was unsure of how he felt about that.

Brick left, something weird wreaking havoc in his stomach, and he willed himself to forget, too.