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Sniff sniff.

The corner of Brick's eye twitched. He ignored it, trying to focus on his English exam instead.

So, in Oscar Wilde's—

Sniff.

No. He refused to let his eyes leave the paper, the intensity of his gaze just about to burn holes in it. Keep your laser focus on the test. He should block the sound and forget the small black dots the tip of his pen was leaving at the desk's surface with his nervous tapping.

Tap tap tap. Sniff sniff. Tap tap tap.

The pity party kept going on and on and on. Brick swallowed a grunt and begrudgingly tilted his head to shoot daggers at the despicable creature sitting two rows ahead. Her shoulders were slumped and her hands were frantically wiping her cheeks, trying to keep stubborn tears from falling.

He wanted to tell her to shut up. He wanted to burn her head with his eye beams. He wanted to kick the legs of her chair and scream at her face to just suck it up, they weren't ten anymore, it was stupid to cry and even more so over a fucking boy.

Granted, said boy(friend) was caught making out with another girl in the middle of the hallway in front of the entire school not half an hour ago. And fine, Brick wasn't known for his ability to empathize, but even he would feel sorry for that very public shit show…

… If said girl wasn't his damn counterpart.

Honestly? She had it coming, he thought, tap tap tapping his pen. Chad fucking Davies, really? Tap tap tap. What did she expect from the perfect brainless stereotype of a stupid jock? The dude had as much depth as a poem written by a pretentious fifteen-year-old emo that kept a vial of their blood around their neck and thought Evanescence was the coolest band in the world.

Sniff sniff.

And so what if they were dating for, how long, five months or something? She should have known better. Guys like him were not meant to be with girls like her. A nerd. A literate. A person who'd probably not be happy to receive a text with an ASCII art of a dick.

Yet, she fell for cheap tricks and empty pretty words. Pfft, what a loser.

Hard to believe he was created to oppose her, to be in the same level of such a naïve girl. No shit the Puffs had never managed to truly beat the Boys in a fight. Not that they fought nowadays, but still, Brick was certain he would kick their glittery asses in a matter of seconds if he thought they were worth the time of the day.

Yeah, that's right, he thought with a smirk, then turned back to his test. Now, in Oscar Wild–

Sob.

For fuck's sake, that fucking—

A sudden cracking sound distracted him from accidentally triggering the smoke detectors. Brick looked down to his pen – or what was left of it. He shook the tiny pieces of plastic away from the paper, only managing to spread the ink stains further. More specifically, on the already answered part of his test.

The bell rang.

"Alright guys, time's up!" said the teacher.

"What," he gasped, attracting the attention of a few students nearby. The dumbfounded Red Ruff looked at the clock on the wall, but Mrs. Stein urged him to bring his test forward and exit the classroom. She couldn't wait to go back to the steamy romance she hid behind a false Charles Dickens cover, that old thirsty hag.

Standing on wobbly legs, he glanced at the smudged piece of paper and his equally stained left hand.

For the first time in his life, Brick Jojo was going to fail a test.

.

.

Butch chanced a look at his brother on the passenger side, then quickly turned his attention back to the traffic lights.

"Hm, bro?"

No answer. Was that smoke coming out of Brick's nostrils? And more importantly, could smoke leave stains in the car's seats?

His brother had been on a terrible mood since last week. Meaning, a more-terrible-than-his-usually-terrible mood. Butch had no clue what was going on and honestly he wasn't sure if it would be wise to ask him why. Brick would usually keep his grumpiness to himself, but oh boy, he could be a little bitch when he was on his period.

So, yeah. Maybe he should wait for Boomer to be stupid enough to ask first.

With that in mind, Butch opened the car's windows to disperse the smoke. In the meantime, he wouldn't risk the leather getting permanent damage.

.

.

His new pen was blue. He couldn't fathom how a bloody stationery store would run out of black pens. Could the human race proneness to stupidity be so grand as to not restock such a mundane tool as black. Fucking. Pens?!

Brick's notebook was a circus. It had color. It looked unclean. He was tempted to burn it to a crisp because he couldn't stand looking at it anymore. Everything sucked. The stationery store, his notebook, this class. This stupid class and the stupid people that attended it. He didn't know how the hell he ended up here, he was more of an exact sciences kind of guy anyway.

When the (also stupid) bell announced the end of yet another weekly waste of his time, Brick couldn't wait to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. Maybe the principal would understand it if he requested – no, demanded – to change courses.

He was almost at the exit when the teacher's voice halted him.

"Mr. Jojo, a moment of your time," Mrs. Stein croaked. If Baba Yaga were to curse the witch hunter that was burning her alive, he believed she would sound remarkably close to Doris Stein. "You too, Ms. Utonium."

Brick's face went sour when he pivoted in his feet and stopped in front of her desk and next to the object of his perpetual disgust, which in turn couldn't unglue her eyes off her feet. Commander and Leader didn't look so commandeering today. Or at any day since last week.

Maybe Brick should be satisfied the stick she had up her ass was finally removed, but it was just… preposterous. Monsters the size of skyscrapers couldn't defeat her, yet she was letting some jackass get into her head. Where was the girl power speech Blossom had so arrogantly delivered at the cafeteria a few months ago when she'd overheard some drama club hipsters slut-shaming a cheerleader?

Mrs. Stein interrupted his train of thought. "Can you both explain to me why two of this school's most brilliant students got an F in last week's evaluation?" She raised an inquisitive brow, laying two pieces of paper in front of them.

Blossom rushed to say, "I am so, so sorry, Mrs. Stein." Her plea was accompanied by nervous gesticulating hands that Brick was urging to slap but decided not to, due to the possibility of being infected with stupid. "I was not feeling well that day and I got distracted. I know it doesn't sound like me, but I promise you this will never happen again. From now on, I'll be fully committed to my curricular activities, if you'd be so kind to give me a second chance."

He managed to hold his snort right when Mrs. Stein turned to him, demanding an acceptable excuse as well.

Brick looked at the big black blob that was his Rorschach test and got disappointed to find it resembled a lame butterfly and not something cooler. Like a cracked skull bleeding through the paper. Or a decomposing body full of larvae. Or anything remotely disturbing that would lead a shrink to believe he was a sociopath.

He shrugged. "I fell asleep."

Mrs. Stein removed her glasses to clean the lenses with a huff. "Well, I realize that was a very… atypical day and external circumstances may have strongly affected your performances in the exam. Thus, it might be unfair to stain such exquisite curriculums, so I'm willing to give you both an extra assignment to replace the grade."

Blossom was quick to shower their teacher with all kinds of gratitude, the good old ass kisser she was, while Brick furrowed his brows and waited. He had a bad feeling about that.

(He always had a bad feeling about everything, but that was not the point.)

"I won't give you a full grade, of course, but at least a B plus is better than an F." Mrs. Stein returned the glasses to the bridge of her Baba Yaga nose. "You have until the end of the month to write an essay about your favorite authors. That is, each other's favorite authors."

Brick couldn't stop the groan that came from his soul. Blossom only stood still, a gaping goldfish about to be flushed down the toilet by the misbehaving child that was not allowed to eat dessert before dinner.

"It's a pair assignment. Work together during your free time." Mrs. Stein took the tests back and stood up in haste. "Dismissed."

He felt big pink eyes on him, but was too busy gritting his teeth to the bone to return the gesture.

.

.

The miscellany of smells in the library ranged from common mold to old crazy cat lady in a hoarder reality show level. It was pungent and unpleasant and Brick couldn't understand how people hooked up in the Philosophy session. Raging teenage hormones wouldn't be enough to stop him from gagging.

He was sat at the closest table by the windows he could find, right leg shaking with impatience. Groups of people scattered in the grass outside and Brick regretted the fact Chemical X wouldn't let him die if he jumped.

Opposite to him, Blossom cleared her throat. At least she had the decency to be uncomfortable too.

"So," she said, idly turning the pages of her notebook. "Who am I writing an essay about?"

"Terry Pratchett. Or Tolkien, I'm fine with either," he muttered, watching the Spring Fling Committee scare the pigeons away as they dragged a massive string of fake flowers to the Theater building. Which reminded him Brick still had to meet with Mitch later so they could come up with a set list for their band and schedule the rehearsals.

"Right. I have always wanted to read Tolkien, so I'll take that as an opportunity." Her (blue) pen scratched the paper. "My favorite author is Jane Austen."

Brick's face fell. He finally turned to glare at her. "You're shitting me."

"Why would I?" The Puff lifted a brow. "Austen was a pioneer—"

"It's chick lit."

"It's not that," she protested between clenched teeth. "It's a critique about societ—"

"Fine, I'll find out for myself, you don't need to do all the work for me," he said bluntly. Then just because he couldn't stop himself, he added, "So, Pride and Prejudice? A book about a guy being a jackass to the girl and she still stays with him in the end? That explains a lot."

Blossom dropped her pen and turned to him with murderous intent. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Art imitates life. Or is it life that imitates art, in your case? Either way, I can't decide which one is sadder."

Brick crossed his arms, a smug smile forming on his lips as the wooden edges of the table she was holding on to creaked. For the first time in days, she was finally showing any emotion other than self-pity. And since 1) her existence annoyed him; 2) he was a Rowdyruff and the goal of his creation was to spread chaos; and 3) he just could, Brick promised himself he would do everything in his power to make her break the table, thus making her life even more miserable.

Oblivious to this new objective, Blossom just shook an accusatory finger at him. "My personal life is none of your business."

"Did your boyfriend get the memo?" Brick shrugged. "He made it anybody else's business at the hall last week."

The wood creaked again. Blossom was about to retort, but suddenly stopped, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Bummer.

"Still," she said. "I don't see why you care."

Why? Why, she asked?

How could the regional Quiz Bowl champion be the same girl that dated the guy who believed the Mayor and Cap'n Crunch were one and the same? How could the president of the debate club fall for the moron that used 'wazzuuuup' non-ironically? And how could Brick, the product of a chemically enhanced monkey's delusions of grandeur, sleep at night knowing he was created at her image?

"Because," and now he was pissed, "When my dumb counterpart does dumb things such as failing a dumb test due to crying over a dumb jock, people will think of me as dumb too by association."

She had the nerve to scoff. "This is ridiculous. No one would think that." Blossom closed her notebook with finality. "And that day I might have overreacted because I was shocked—"

"Shocked?" Brick snorted. "Don't tell me you were shocked to find out Chad fucking Davies—"

"His name is Chase—"

"—only wanted to date you to get in your pants and moved on as soon as you told him no."

"That—" The Puff hesitated and by her squeaky tone Brick knew that he'd got her. "That's not a relation—I mean, that… that's definitely not what happened."

Jackpot.

"Is that so?" Brick now leaned forward, the predator circling the hopeless prey. "Then tell me, does he know who your favorite author is?"

Blossom lifted her chin, trying to stick to the remains of her dignity. "Irrelevant. Most teenagers don't have the habit to read nowadays."

"Yeah, right. Let's move on from the fact that you deliberately dated a guy that can't read the label of his own shampoo. What did you guys talk about, then? Let's see… sports? No need to answer that, your face is telling me everything I need to know. High school gossip, maybe. More sports. The Spring Fling, probably some other lame parties as well. Did I already mention sports?"

Her cheeks were as red as her hair and Brick couldn't help a shit-eating grin.

"I don't have to justify myself to you."

He ignored her. "What else?" Brick leaned back on his chair, pretending to think. He snapped his fingers with such mockery he could feel the annoyance emanating from her. "What about your dates? Do game nights count as dates if you wear his jersey to cheer for him?" That hit hard and the look on her face alone made the inconvenience of failing the test and having to do an extra assignment with her totally worth it. "Also, dinner at that Gennaro's close to the mall and a movie afterwards is a must, isn't it, so very creative. And how could I forget that lookout in South Townsville couples can stop the car behind the woods to have se—"

"Wow, Brick. Congratulations," Blossom deadpanned, trying to save some face. Her hands were not clutching the table anymore, but he snickered all the same. "You just figured everything out. Dating, high school life. Even classical British literature is so beneath you. In fact, why are you still here when you clearly should be declared ruler of England and the colonies, I wonder."

"Oh, please." Brick's chin rested in his hand, riding that victory's bliss. "Don't mistake quote, high school life, unquote, with a dumbass too lazy to make a real effort. Why you subjected yourself to it, now that's the real question. As for me, I'm just waiting for the Queen to die, obviously."

Blossom stood straighter in her chair and it irked him that she was too stubborn to accept her defeat to him at the same time her white flag has been so promptly raised to a douche. "So you are saying you can do so much better than him?" she asked, lifting a quizzical brow.

He paused, considering her. "Yes." Then, "No," he corrected. "I'm saying anyone can do better than him."

She scoffed at his impertinence. "How so?"

"It's not that hard. Even a buffoon could google up a list of suggestions. If your boyfriend would have at least tried, he'd even have realized that there'd be no need to know how to spell 'date'. Search engines autocorrect grammar." He laughed as she seethed in her chair. "Aw come on Pink, surely you are not so dull to believe there's nothing more to life than football games and the dinner-and-a-movie thing."

"Why don't you enlighten me, then," she groaned through gritted teeth.

Brick tapped his cheek, an idea budding in his mind, spreading faster than porn websites malware in Butch's notebook. "You know what, if you feel the need to ask that, then your situation is sadder than I've thought. Might as well show you instead of just telling you, so maybe your limited brain has a chance to grasp the concept."

Blossom was livid. He failed in making her destroy school property, but rejoiced in watching her fists clenching with such force he wouldn't be surprised if she just pounced him over the table.

But that wouldn't do. Not yet.

"Great." Brick stood up, throwing his backpack over one shoulder. "I'll pick you up at six on Saturday."

Her rage crumbled in the split of a second only to be overcome by surprise. If she were anyone else, Brick would even find endearing the way the blush of her cheeks spread down her neck.

"Wha—" she stuttered. "That's—that's not… wait."

"Start with The Hobbit," he said before turning to walk.

"Brick!"

She stood up so fast the chair fell back.

"And oh," he turned on his heels. "Don't wear a skirt."

Blossom immediately froze in place and Brick took that opportunity to leave.

.

.

Boomer was scared.

It was weird that a human with super strength like him would feel so. A car crash couldn't scratch him. The fall of a skyscraper couldn't crush him. A nuclear explosion wouldn't – probably – kill him either. And yet, when his brother had that maniacal look as if he was Brain, the lab rat, and Pinky had just asked him what they were going to do tonight, Boomer couldn't help the chill down his spine.

There was something really strange going on with Brick lately. First, he was more pissed off than usual, you know, way more than The Mood he liked to think was edgy and cool. Now, he acted like he was scheming to take over the world.

Boomer just couldn't keep up.

He spied from a corner as Brick grinned to himself like a crazed person. As much as he was dead curious to know what the heck was happening, Boomer also had to consider he was almost finishing Persona and Brick's been too distracted with his own shenanigans to claim his weekly rights to the video game.

Eh, Boomer shrugged. Guess he would have to wait until Butch decided to ask.

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Brick knocked on the Utoniums' front door precisely at six in the afternoon on Saturday.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he fought the urge to grin at the curious faces peeking from behind the living room's curtains and instead focused on looking bored.

The door opened a crack and the top of the Professor's head could be seen for a brief moment before it was hastily shoved inside. Blossom came out in a hurry, pulling the doorknob behind her with more force than necessary.

Her gaze could freeze the deepest pits of Hell. If Him had known that, they could have saved some money with air conditioning down there.

As he scanned the outfit of her choice, Blossom crossed her arms in front of her chest, daring him to say something unsavory. Brick was only glad to see she followed his suggestion and wore pants. Her silk blouse, though…

"Here." With no warning beforehand, Brick threw the black hoodie he was holding at her, which, of course, was promptly caught midair. Blossom stopped throwing daggers with her eyes to furrow her brows at the piece of clothing.

"It's too warm for this," she protested, but he was already in the air and shooting towards the sky.

Brick headed downtown and was glad to see she was following him, albeit with caution. He passed the taller commercial buildings in the main street, now less populated with the working citizens staying at home for the weekend. The crowd became more prominent as Brick neared the entertainment block, where people gathered in front of bars chatting and having drinks.

He turned left near a bodega and landed in front of a large metal door. The neon sign above it flashed XtremeZXS in big green letters. Besides that, there were no clues about what the place hid.

Blossom took notice of that too if the horrified expression on her face was saying something, Brick realized as he glanced above his shoulder.

"Wait," she was quick to say as he lifted his arm to knock.

"What?"

"What's in there?"

"You'll see soon enough," he said, rolling his eyes. But when he raised his hand again, Blossom grabbed his wrist.

"I'm not going in there unless you tell me what this is first," she said with finality and Brick yanked his arm away from her touch as if it alone could give him cooties. In a flash, he turned on his heels hell-bent on murdering her with his trademark stare, but something in her expression stopped him dead on his tracks.

She looked angry, but the effect was lost on him because she was also… flushed. Crimson red, redder than he'd ever seen someone get, even redder than Boomer when Mojo had caught him jerking off when they were thirteen.

When it clicked to him, Brick couldn't help a Cheshire grin. "You think this is a brothel or something?"

Blossom managed to look even more outraged as she turned her head away, strangling the hoodie she carried like it was his throat. "Brick, I swear to God, if this is a stupid prank—"

"As if pranking you would be worth of my time." Brick cackled. "No. I am just, as you so desperately begged me to do, enlightening you."

And before she could formulate any more protests, Brick banged on the door, hoping the loud noise would annoy her.

It took only a few moments for someone to answer it and Brick smirked at the head peeking outside. A glint of recognition passed between them and his smirk was returned.

"Brick! My man." The skinny guy who didn't look much older than him opened the door fully and took a step back to allow passage. "You're right on time, as always."

Then, as the man eyed the figure frozen in place behind him, Brick tossed an arm around Blossom's shoulders and brought her forward with the delicacy of a herd of people about to invade the stores on Black Friday.

"I've brought a date." Brick's sarcasm was locked and loaded when he shoved her inside.

The flash of acknowledgement was instant and the guy whistled. "A Powerpuff? So cool!" He extended his hand. "I'm Jay, by the way. Welcome to… insert here the unpronounceable shit my boss thought was a good idea to name his business with. I hope you'll have fun today."

"Great," Blossom mumbled, shaking Jay's hand absently as her frantic eyes scanned the dark. From where they stood, there wasn't much to be seen. The walls were painted black, as was the floor, and the lightning was reduced to LED strips outlining the corners of the ceiling and the edges of a balcony to the left. Ahead of them, an inconspicuous siding hid the true reason they were here.

"Did you get everything ready like I said?" Brick asked.

"Of course." Jay walked around the balcony and started laying stuff over the counter. And just because the poor nerd couldn't help fawning over a sub-celebrity of his childhood, Jay turned to Blossom again. "So, you are Blossom, right? Have you ever played laser tag?"

Blossom blinked as she had woken up from a dream. "Laser tag?" she repeated like the loser she was. "Is it what this is? Just laser tag?"

"For now. But it's about to become your worst nightmare after I spend the next hour wiping the floor with your ass." Brick grabbed the hoodie still in her hands and shoved it down her head. Thankfully, Blossom decided to be useful for the first time that day and helped him push the collar down her neck.

The moment her eyes could be seen again, Brick knew he was about to regret something.

"Well, Jay. To answer your question, no, I have never played laser tag." Her smug expression was infuriating when she turned to him again, tossing her purse at the counter so she could slide her arms through the sleeves. "Is this your brilliant idea of proving my love life is a farce? Taking me to a kid's game?"

In the blink of an eye there she was, the old, petulant, know-it-all Commander and Leader he grew to despise, instead of the silly girl that giggled every time her asinine boyfriend carried her books for her as if she couldn't lift a cargo ship above his head and crush his useless existence.

But Brick was no fool like the waste of carbon that she used to date and if Blossom thought he wasn't already expecting a reaction like that the same way she didn't expect her life choices to be shit, oh ho ho, then Brick would have a field day out of her.

So after taking one of the sensor vests Jay had left over the counter, Brick threw her the charming side-smirk that he believed had been the reason why Laura Smith had agreed to make out with him at Mike Believe's Halloween party last year, and carefully laid it over her shoulders. "Underestimating me, Pink? Now, that wouldn't be smart, would it?" And while she held her gaze locked with his in defiance, Brick grabbed the belt that went around the waist and pulled her close.

She scoffed as he closed the clasp. "Says the guy that fell asleep during a test."

Ignoring her jab, Brick took the blaster and, just because he knew it would irk her, turned around Blossom and placed the gun between her arms from behind, moving his mouth closer to her ear. "Hold it with both hands. The left one goes here." Brick took her hand, but before he could direct it to the correct handler, Blossom shoved him aside.

"Don't patronize me," she growled, adjusting the grip by herself.

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Brick snickered, moving away to put his own vest. "Just make sure you know where the reload button is. I don't want to hear your lame excuses when I finish you off."

As she fiddled with her laser rifle, Jay came closer to him in a hurry and whispered in an apologetic tone. "Err, my man, I've just got to tell you something, a teeny tiny detail— no no no, don't make the serial killer face, I swear it's not my fault."

Before Brick could inquire what the problem was though, three little kids came running out of nowhere, screaming like banshees and lasering each other's asses.

"What the fuck?" Brick watched as one of the gremlins hit the wall hard and got up as if nothing happened. "I told you I would come after closing hours for a reason."

"I know, man, I know." Jay scratched his head. "But my boss decided last minute he would take his mistress for a drink and left the kids here, and I couldn't exactly tell him I was renting the space after my shift ended to earn some on the side."

Brick huffed but didn't protest, as much as he wanted to rip the man's head off for running his perfectly concocted plan. The damage was done anyway and the only thing he could do was work the situation to his favor.

"Hey! You three, Yakko, Wakko and Dot." Brick pointed at the snotty goblins, who stopped mid-fight to look at him. "You're going to team up with that lady over there and try to defeat me. The first one to be shot is a piss-pants."

Blossom watched in horror as the little pests surrounded her with more banshee screaming. However, even though she was no match for him in anything, the Pink Puff still was his counterpart. Recovering quickly from the initial shock, she held her fingers close to her mouth and whistled, earning the attention of all kids.

"Get into formation, now!" Blossom ordered in that Commander and Leader tone she used when she guided her sisters in a fight or when people cut in line at the school's cafeteria on lunch time. Like him, Blossom would turn any unexpected factor in an advantage to herself and her natural leadership skills couldn't be ignored by the children, who lined against the wall in a flash.

She turned to him with a cocky grin, tying her hair into a ponytail. "Giving me a team, now who is underestimating who? Prepare for your demise, Brick."

"I'm just trying to save your pride," he replied with a grin of his own. "So it won't be that humiliating when I take longer than five seconds to kick your ass."

Jay cleared his throat. "Ok, so the rules—"

"No powers. Anything else goes," Brick said, jumping over the barricade and disappearing behind the many obstacles. "Try to keep up with me, losers!" he finished with an evil laugh.

As he wandered through the corridors, Brick could hear the faint whispers of the kids briefing Blossom about the arena and how the space was divided. As much as those brats couldn't be older than eleven, Brick was sure this joint was practically their second home and they knew every nook and cranny the place hid. He could still wipe everyone's ass with his eyes closed, of course. It would only take a bit longer.

Soon enough they changed to the offense and the game was on. Brick didn't have any trouble finding the kids first, as they were loud and impatient. Blossom proceeded with more caution, but she was still getting familiarized with the layout, so she was an easy target for him as well.

As the game restarted over and over again, Brick could notice the gradual improvement in their teamwork. Blossom was starting to get comfortable in giving orders and he was pleased to notice she was not above getting on the dirty floor and crawling her way through the obstacles.

(Brick knew that hoodie would come in handy. He didn't want to hear sissy complaints about her ruined clothing.)

At some point, Brick tiptoed closer to where they stablished their "base" and stopped to eavesdrop, wiping the sweat out of his face. They haven't defeated him yet, but he suspected a big plan was on the works when they all retreated together. If his calculations were correct, the game clock was almost running out and he wanted to frustrate any attempts before they even tried.

Resting his back against one of the walls, Brick halted as he listened to Blossom's instructions.

Then, he furrowed his brows.

"Are you teaching guerrilla tactics to a bunch of kids?!"

The wannabe minions came screeching at him with shouts of "Spy!" and he was forced to backtrack a few steps. He did so with a disbelieving guffaw.

"Turning innocent children into tiny terrorists just so you can win." Brick fake-gasped as he shot the first boy down. "Doesn't Miss Everything Nice have any scruples when it comes to her ego?"

"You are going down, Brick!" she replied in a singsong voice as the remaining of the group moved to surround him.

"In your dreams," Brick sang back, gunning the little girl flanking him. She pouted but made no objection as she exited the arena.

Crouching in the sticky floor, he tried to pinpoint the last kid's location. Blossom didn't answer his taunting, so he was forced to backtrack more steps and hide in a corner until he managed to establish their positions.

As soon as he succeeded in getting rid of the only boy left, Brick was thankfully fast enough to sense a trap and ducked in time to avoid Blossom's shot.

"Damn," Blossom cursed under her breath. But she didn't give him time for retaliation and started blasting with impressive coordination between the trigger and the reload button. Brick ran around the maze, leading her to an intersection he knew he would be able to turn a corner and shoot her in the back.

He was almost there when a much better idea crossed his mind, though.

She would be so pissed.

Twisting left, he attempted to be quicker than her and take the first shot. But as he predicted, Blossom slapped his blaster away and her knee connected to his stomach, sending them both down. His back hit the floor hard and his lungs momentarily ran out of air. He recovered soon enough only to stare straight at the point of Blossom's rifle.

"Game over, Red."

"Are you trying to blind me?"

"Oops, sorry," she said, not sorry at all, but redirected the line of the laser tip away from his eyes all the same. Her knee, though, kept painfully digging in his gut and she made no move to indicate she was going to withdraw it soon.

Brick looked up at the pair of pink irises that, even in the dark, shone brighter than any gemstone, and the lips that were slightly curved in a smile. Rivalry apart, he thought the look suited her better than moping around the corners over the Amoeba Boys' long lost fourth brother.

Her disheveled hair fell from her sloppy ponytail to frame his face and Brick blew the strands back.

"It's against the rules to knock other people out. You might break this vest and I'm not paying for it."

Blossom snorted, but stood up nonetheless. "That's not what you've established in the beginning of the game, but for the sake of that guy's job, I'll show mercy to my fallen enemy."

Brick moved to stand as well at the same time the clock countdown reached zero, signaling their run was over. He couldn't stop grinning, though, and Blossom noticed that as they walked toward the starting point.

"You're way too happy for someone who has just lost for a rookie," she said, brows furrowed in suspicion.

Brick was chuckling as he left the blaster on the counter. "Nope, you won fair and square. It was, after all, four against one. Congratulations."

But Blossom was having none of it as she fiddled with her vest's buckle, when her face suddenly fell. She turned to glare at him. "Did you lose on purpose?"

He couldn't stop his grin from spreading. Moving closer to her, Brick helped Blossom get out of her vest. As much as his goal was to convince her there was life beyond high school football games, Brick couldn't help being obnoxious and taking her victory bliss away. He was, after all, a Rowdyruff through and through.

"…Maybe."

"You!" Blossom poked him hard in the chest. She was furious. "You… you stupid—you condescending jerk! I demand a rematch!"

"Easy, Cherry Bomb." Brick lifted an eyebrow at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Does this mean you are asking me out on a second date?"

"Ugh! You are insufferable," she grunted, turning away from him only to be squashed by a bunch of tiny demons.

"Blossom, you are so cool!"

"And pretty!"

"And hard core!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Kenny?"

"And smart!"

"Please, come back to play with us!"

"Yes, please!"

"Please, Blossom!"

"Ok, ok, fine. Calm down." Blossom moved them back gently so she could look at the three of them at the same time. "We were a great team today. You all did a great job, I'm so proud…"

Brick leaned against the balcony, watching Blossom as she praised the beaming kids, one by one. Standing behind the counter, Jay leaned over and sighed, which prompted Brick to roll his eyes in disgust.

"What?" Brick asked.

"Your date is the best date," Jay replied dreamily, resting his head in his hands.

"Yeah, whatever." Brick fished out his wallet from the front pocket of his jeans and tossed him a few bills. "We are heading out."

"But really now, you should bring her more often. She's good. It would be only a matter of time for your reign of terror to be over."

Brick shook a dismissive hand at him and took Blossom's purse, walking towards the exit. She followed outside a few moments later, tousled hair now trapped in a messy bun on top of her head and eyes bright from exertion.

Face to face on the sidewalk, Brick took a moment to regard her form, still hidden beneath his raggedy hoodie. Despite not being his intention when he had brought the garment for her, the Ruff couldn't help thinking about the territorial dynamics in high school. Along the halls, dozens of females paraded in their respective boyfriends' coats, jackets and sweaters, doe-like gazes making them look vulnerable and fragile to appease highly insecure male teenagers into a false sense of ownership.

Blossom looked anything but fragile when she militarized a bunch of ten-year-olds and kneed him too close to his groin for comfort.

And although Blossom would also never be the kind of girl who would be ok with "belonging" to someone else, it bothered him that it didn't bother him that she was wearing his hoodie and seeming unbothered by it, and the whole situation allured to an aura of intimacy he avoided having with any human being, let alone the one he was supposed to be hell bent on destroying.

So in order to stop his brain from overanalyzing something that didn't even exist to begin with, Brick blurted out the first thing that came to him, which was a not very eloquent "Are you hungry?"

Blossom, who has been shifting her weight between her legs as if she was trying to think of something to say, stopped, slightly taken aback.

"I could eat," she said, moving her bangs away from her eyes.

Ok. Cool. Brick nodded to himself and handed her purse back before shoving his hands inside his pockets.

"There's a hot dog cart a couple of blocks from here." And just before she could make a judgemental comment about it, Brick was quick to add, "Trust me, it's better than Gennaro's overpriced gourmet risotto."

"Townsville is not known for its culinary excellence, I suppose," said Blossom, but she followed him anyway and together they strolled side by side, in a silence that thankfully wasn't awkward because all he could think of was what the fuck.

It was already past seven and the sidewalks were even busier than before. Groups of drinking patrons gathered around outdoor tables, enjoying the remnants of sunlight and the soft spring breeze.

Brick took Blossom's wrist when they had to dodge the crowd of a particularly packed bar. In STP conditions, he would usually make a snarky remark to himself about it. That by touching her he could catch a venereal disease or something. But his usually sharp mind came out with a whole bunch of nothing and what the fuck indeed.

He decided to blame it on his empty stomach.

The walk was a blessedly short one and they soon reached a street that wasn't bustling with people like so many others in the neighborhood. The steam coming from the pots carried the enticing scent of food and Brick used it as a guide to make a bee line for the cart, which was stationed in front of a nightclub that had yet to open up for the night.

Bill, the owner, raised his tongs in a salute when he spotted them. His southern drawl greeted Brick in its usual lazy pace.

"No Louie and Dewey today, I see."

"Nope. Just me," Brick replied.

"And your sweet pea…" The way the sentence was phrased almost as a question made Brick's ears burn and he almost choked.

Which was stupid. Because the implication didn't mean anything.

Just like the fact she's still wearing your hoodie doesn't mean anything.

When Brick stubbornly didn't confirm or deny anything – because he didn't have to explain himself to anyone, because there was nothing to be explained –, the older man turned his attention to Blossom, who seemed rather oblivious to the exchange as she studied the variety of toppings available.

"And what can I get you, ma'am?"

Blossom looked up with her signature confidence that sounded almost like a command and said, "Surprise me."

"My favorite kind of customer, this one." Bill's impressed nod of approval was directed to him and Brick received it like the embarrassing comment of the not-really-that-funny uncle every family had over the girlfriend he had brought home for the first time.

Which was absurd. Because he didn't have an uncle.

His family consisted of a chimpanzee and three byproducts of armpit hair, terrestrial gastropods, the butt fur of a mutt and radioactive pee, all living in the top of an active volcano. It would be crazy to bring a girl into this household.

Bill expertly started filling the bun with ingredients. "Level of spiciness?"

Blossom smiled. "I can take the heat."

This time, Brick did choke, but managed to disguise it by clearing his throat.

"What about you, son?"

"The usual."

"Coming right up."

Brick and Blossom spent the minutes waiting their order arguing about who was going to pay for it. Blossom insisted they should share the expenses and Brick didn't really have a problem with that, except he couldn't pass up the opportunity to antagonize her every chance he got and a healthy dose of bickering would be good for his brain to recover from its momentary hoodie-induced blue screen of death. So they went back and forth in their squabble as Blossom's hyper-competitive nature refused to give in even when she probably knew he was doing it on purpose.

The discussion ended up without an understanding between the parts, for Brick simply paid for the food and flew to the nightclub's parapet, leaving Blossom talking to herself. He settled their drinks at the edge of the roof before sitting, and proceeded to wolf down his hot dog.

Blossom begrudgingly took her place next to him.

"I will pay you back."

"No need."

"I am perfectly capable of covering my share, Brick."

"I'm well aware."

"It's the reasonable thing to do in a situation like this."

"You want to ask me out on a second date that bad, huh?"

"Technically, this is not a date."

"All the more reason for your rules to not apply in a situation like this."

"Why do you need to have the final say in every conversation?"

"Why do you?"

"You are impossible."

"Eat your food."

Blossom glared, but took a bite of her hot dog nonetheless. Her expression changed to one of bewilderment. "This… is actually quite good," she admitted.

"I told you."

"You couldn't really expect me to believe street food to be better than an actual restaurant, Brick."

"What about now?"

"Now…" Blossom stopped to consider her half eaten hot dog for a moment. "I would say I'm intrigued. There's an unexpected flavor in this."

Brick nodded. "That's Bill's secret sauce."

"Oh?"

"You won't be able to identify what's in it." Blossom's eyes flashed with the challenge, so Brick was quick to add, "Trust me, I spent a lot of time trying to figure it out and the taste doesn't match the ingredients."

"And how do you know this?"

"Bill told me the recipe."

Blossom lifted an eyebrow in a way Brick suspected she also took pleasure in opposing him.

"So the secret sauce is not so secret."

"He hasn't told anyone else."

"Why would he tell you, then?"

At her suspicious tone, Brick went into defense mode. "I didn't threaten him or anything if that's what you are implying. Last year, some thugs were bullying some local businesses in this neighborhood into paying for "protection", and my brothers and I politely told them to fuck off. Bill was thankful, he knew I wanted to know the recipe, he told me, end of story."

Blossom looked at him for the longest time, then finally let out a resigned sigh, putting her drink aside.

"Brick, I didn't imply you did something bad," she said in earnest. "I have no reason to. You haven't committed a crime in what now, a decade? Contrary to what you may believe, I don't see you as an enemy, and haven't for a long time.

"I know you feel we can't get along due to the circumstances in which we were created. That my actions would reflect poorly on you because people would expect the same things from my counterpart. But, honestly? I don't think they even make that association anymore. You are your own person."

Brick halted, not recalling ever talking to Blossom without a heavy dose of bantering involved. But then again, they barely spoke. Although there was little overlap between their social circles at school, Brick also went to great lengths to ignore her presence. It helped that she didn't seem eager to be besties either.

As for the counterpart thing, their rivalry wasn't a mere goal to him, it was the sole reason he came to be. He was born for her, but the opposite would never be true. He met his end by her hands, only to be reborn by an ancient genderfluid evil to keep fighting her.

He wasn't big on the whole fate thing, but as much as he rejected his designated purpose on a daily basis by – as she put it – being his own person, there would always be a part of Brick, the Bludgeoner, that could not be dissociated from Brick, the high school teenage boy. It was bred-in-the-bone, programmed in his DNA, woven in his partially demonic soul.

It was more like a feeling than something he could explain with words, but Brick thought her candor deserved some degree of honesty, even if it barely scratched the surface, so he just shrugged and said, "It's too hard not to rub it in when you screw up, though."

"Oh." Blossom's smile was sad when she looked up at the sky, now devoid of any sunlight. "I suppose when people put you up in a pedestal of unreasonable standards, they take pleasure in watching when you fall," she muttered more for herself than him.

Brick's stomach dropped with her sudden display of vulnerability.

He never had the chance to ask what she meant, though, for the telltale ringtone of the Powerpuff hotline blared in her purse and Blossom rushed to answer it, all philosophic rumblings forgotten.

Her loud, coming-from-the-depths-of-her-being groan made Brick startle.

"Freaking Fuzzy Lumpkins, why can't I catch a break?" Blossom cursed, standing up in haste as the sound of an explosion reverberated through the buildings nearby. "I have to go."

Blossom barely spared a glance in his direction as she took flight, and all Brick could do was watch her pink stream of light leave a trail in the sky.

What the fuck indeed.

.

.

On a moment, Brick was buckling his belt and throwing his baseball cap over his still damp from the shower hair. On another, someone was grabbing the collar of his shirt and shoving him against the gym lockers.

He closed his eyes at the impact not because it hurt, but because there were few people in this world foolish enough to pick a fight with a super powered being, and only one tremendously idiotic birdbrained enough to pick a fight with him.

And, of course, it was Chad fucking Davies.

Said tremendously idiotic birdbrained person growled on his face. "I heard you took my girl out this weekend, Jojo."

If they were alone, Brick wouldn't even have let Chad fucking Davies push him. But the guy had to be the diva in the spotlights and now a whole locker room of potential witnesses watched them, dead silent. And he doubted Chad fucking Davies' football buddies would have something to say in Brick's favor if word reached the Principal's office.

He also doubted the bunch of nerds in this PE class would take a stand against the school's most popular jock only to fall victim of a wedgie later.

So Brick renounced immediate violence to mentally peruse his arsenal of smirks, choosing the most self-entitled one he possessed.

"Nah," he said. "Never spoke to Melanie Hitchens in my life."

Chad fucking Davies shoved him harder, face red with anger. "I meant B, you dipshit."

"Oh?" Brick's eyebrow twitched with annoyance. Brick hated when he called her that. "Does B know she's still your girlfriend? You know, despite you shoving your tongue down Hitchens' throat the other day?"

"Chase." One of Chad fucking Davies' cronies hastily took a step forward to pull his teammate back, eyeing Brick with wariness. "Come on, bro. It's almost lunch time."

But the asshole was denser than a black hole, so he ignored his much wiser friend and kept fuming on Brick's face. "You look like a fool chasing someone so out of your league."

At that, Brick could not help throwing his head back to laugh. Histerically so. How dare he say that Brick was 1) a fool, and 2) out of anybody's league? Brick, the Rowdyruff Boy. Brick, who could crush this guy under the sole of his shoe like a cockroach. Brick, who was the reason everyone in that room was as rigid as poles with fear, everyone but the buffoon in front of him that couldn't fucking get the hint.

Brick, who was famously known for having a very, very short fuse.

So when Chad fucking Davies had the nerve to shove a finger in his face and say, "I'm warning you, stay away from my girl," Brick's laugh stopped so abruptly even said buffoon had the decency to take a step back, finally releasing Brick's collar.

But the damage was done, the atmosphere in the room so charged Brick could taste the panic in the air as if it was a glass of fine wine, and he didn't need to rely on cheap tricks, such as height advantage or deepening his voice, to get to Chad fucking Davies' face and stare him down.

Brick's voice came out so low only the ones closer to the scene heard the subtle threat.

"Or what?"

Finally, finally, the only pair of neurons Chad fucking Davies possessed completed their synapse. And if the glimpse of alarm in his eyes wasn't enough of a sign, the trepidation in his voice sealed the deal. Apparently, though, his mouth wasn't so well connected to his brain, since he was still flirting with his painful demise.

"I know you are all talk and no action, Jojo! You wouldn't risk getting expelled. You know your monkey daddy would have to flush you down the toilet you crawled from."

Brick's crimson eyes flashed with fury and, for a millisecond, all he could see was red, red, red, until the smoke detector beeped and the ever so democratic sprinklers spared no one as they drenched every single individual in that room along with their respective belongings.

Henchman #1 took that opportunity to enlist the help of Henchman #2 and together they managed to manhandle Chad fucking Davies out of the boy's locker room. Soon enough, everybody else who didn't have a death wish rushed to the exit. Well, everyone except Elmer Sglue, the weirdo who seemed unfazed about the smoke still coming out of Brick's nostrils.

"I like to think you did Davies a great favor by activating the sprinklers. This way no one would notice he peed his pants." And before Elmer left as well, he added under his breath. "Go Team Jojo."

.

.

By the time the final bell indicated the end of school for today, Brick was still seething. No gum in the world would replace the acrid tang in his mouth (that tasted like car exhaust) and the Principal's shrilly voice still echoed inside his skull (like the Ghost of Lectures Past). He threw his (joke of a) notebook inside his backpack with no care whatsoever (it was unsalvageable anyway), along with the library copy of Pride and Prejudice he still didn't manage to finish (it sucked so hard).

As if this shitty day couldn't be shitty enough, the second least person he wanted to see was waiting behind his locker door – which he pictured as being Chad fucking Davies' head while he slammed it shut.

"Hey." Blossom was a puddle of nerves for reasons he didn't know or cared. "I heard what happened. I can't believe he… If I'd known, I swear—Brick, I'm so sorry."

Brick loaded his voice with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "I'm not," he said, pointing to the nearest window. Outside, the sky had barely any clouds and the sun was warm, but the cool spring breeze mitigated the heat into an agreeable temperature. "Isn't it a lovely day to be on detention?"

After the sprinkler incident, news of the locker room squabble spread faster than mono among people aged 15 to 24. By lunch time, it was all the student body could talk about, but not even his closest friends would dare to approach a literal fire-spitting demon spawn to ask for details.

Butch and Boomer were ready to throw down. The pretext never really mattered anyway: if you fucked with the Rowdyruff Boys, you had to be prepared to eat dirt.

Brick told his brothers to stand down. He's been avoiding them since he went out with Blossom. Although he didn't have a problem sharing stuff with them, Brick was still trying to figure out how his attempt to teach her a lesson turned into a clusterfuck of events that began with a hoodie-induced brain crash and ended with him feeling he fucked up something fierce.

Which meant that Brick was also avoiding her. Well, more than the usual.

He could feel a pair of pink eyes stealing occasional glances in his direction during the classes they shared. And the focus in her stride when she tried to reach him in the corridors before he rushed to the boys' restroom.

Brick would burn alive those who dared calling him a coward for hiding. But in truth, he was just trying to come up with a way to break the ice without seeming uncool (no pun intended). Every time he thought about exercising his bragging rights for showing her it was easily possible to think outside the box when it came to dating – thus making her asinine ex-boyfriend look even more asinine –, Brick recalled the disappointment in her face before that emergency call, and suddenly bragging didn't feel good anymore.

But now Blossom was standing in front of him, chewing on her nail as if it has been her only source of nourishment since the hot dogs they had on Saturday, and Brick didn't have an excuse to dodge her.

"How bad?" she asked.

"Only today." Courtesy of Elmer Sglue – may the high school gods have mercy on his balls –, who chose chaos when he, in a moment of pure madness, decided to march into the Principal's office and declare Brick was the victim, not the instigator.

It was unfortunate that it didn't stop Brick from getting detention, if not for his supposed involvement, then for the janitor's troubles. And while the assbutt that wasn't smart enough to be honored with an arch nemesis title got a full week, Brick still felt he got the worst of that deal the moment he lost the opportunity to break his teeth.

"Brick, I really am sorry." Blossom's shoulders were slumped, which only incensed him further.

"Why are you apologizing for him?"

"I am apologizing for this whole mess. I can't help thinking that if Bubbles weren't such a blabbermouth—"

"So now what, you are going to live your life in secret?"

"No, but I didn't want you to get in trouble because of me." Blossom took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. "This is my problem to deal with, ok? Chase's behavior was unacceptable and I'm going to have a serious conversation with him about this."

Brick didn't register he was moving until Blossom's back hit the lockers.

"You are not. Talking to him." Brick's teeth were clenched so tight his jaw popped. "Do you hear me? You are not."

"Brick."

"Don't you get it?!" Blossom jumped with the sudden raise in his tone and Brick had to close his eyes and take a sharp inhale of air to put himself together. "This is exactly what he wants. He is the dog that chews the owner's shoes for attention. Don't give him that, Blossom. Besides, if there's someone in this cursed school that can stand their ground against any threat, that someone is me."

Blossom looked away and Brick realized how much he was invading her personal space, drawing the attention of the few students still circulating in the area. He took a step back, watching as she hugged herself, lost in thought.

"It's just… the audacity, you know."

"I know."

Their eyes met again.

"You are right."

Brick didn't mean to, but he shivered from head to toe. He would be lying if he said it didn't arouse him to hear those words coming from her.

He masked it by grabbing the backpack long forgotten on the floor and throwing it over one shoulder. "I always am."

Blossom rolled her eyes. "Not always. Anyway, before I forget… here." She opened her own backpack to pull his hoodie out. It was neatly folded and its smell was a blend of softener with her citrusy perfume. Before accepting it back, Brick made a mental note of throwing it in the laundry basket as soon as he got home.

They were about to fall into an awkward silence when Blossom hurried to say, "I had fun."

"That was the point."

"Well, technically yes… but."

Brick narrowed his eyes.

"I've been thinking."

"Oh?"

Blossom's smile was timid, but firm. "About your point. I don't think laser tag was enough to… you know."

"To what."

The Pink Puff shrugged. "It was a good idea, Brick, but also something I could do with my friends or my sisters. And a relationship encompasses things that only couples can do together. So, while I really had a good time last weekend, it's insufficient to determine whether my love life is a failure or not."

Brick pursed his lips. "I see."

"I'm still up for that rematch, though. I mean, if you are too. Someday."

"Yeah, sure."

"Great," she mumbled, shoving a strand of hair behind her ear. "You should go, or you will get another day of detention if you're late."

"Ok."

Blossom hesitated for a moment before spinning on her heels to leave. "Bye, Brick."

He watched as she crossed the corridor, clammy fists clenching and unclenching inside the pockets of his jeans. She was almost turning the corner when Brick blurted, "Hey."

He absolutely refused to believe that the glint in her eyes when she looked back was anticipation.

"This Saturday, same time. No." He shook his head. "Make it five. Just to be safe."

"Safe for what?"

"You'll see." Brick started to walk backwards in the detention room's direction, arms spread in a challenge. "I'm not ready to admit defeat."

Blossom seemed amused. "I wasn't expecting you to."

"Then be ready when I stop by your place to pick you up," he said. "And don't wear a skirt."

"What's with you and skirts?" Blossom huffed, but he was too far gone already.

.

.

When he got home later in that evening, Brick haphazardly emptied the contents of his still wet backpack in his writing-desk. He left the backpack hanging in the laundry to let it fully dry after that morning's sprinkler disaster.

Among the pile of pens and books, his hoodie laid forgotten.

The next morning, Brick's bedroom smelled like Sicilian lemon and jasmine.

.

.

Grandma Mitchelson had once told Mitch that, in the old times, teachers would smack students with a wooden ruler if they were caught using the left hand to write. It was considered Satan's influence, she had said.

Now watching Brick turn his notebook ninety degrees and twist his hand in a weird, unnatural angle to prevent it from smudging the ink, Mitch could see why.

Also, the only possible explanation for Brick's blocky handwriting to be so perfect and aligned? Witchcraft.

"We should move 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' up and leave 'You Shook Me All Night Long' as one of the last ones," Brick was saying as he enumerated the songs in a new order.

"But then AC/DC and Offspring will be too close," said Harry Pitt, the band's drummer.

Brick stared. "Fine," he said, but his tone indicated he would rather chew glass. "Let's put 'Mr. Brightside' before 'Pretty Fly'."

"Nope, the same problem would happen with 'Paradise City' up here, see?" Julie Bean, their bassist, threw a manicured hand over Brick's shoulder to show him.

"Yeah, so?"

It was Mitch's time to intervene. He did so with a sigh. "So my throat will burst before we can end our set, man."

Brick's eye twitched and Mitch thought they were about to have yet another pen accident. Sometimes, Mitch wondered if Brick knew he was the reason why the stationery store near the school was always out of black pens.

"Then the only option I see here is to cut one of the songs your weak throat can't handle, Mitchell," Brick grunted.

Harry and Julie shot Mitch a meaningful look and Mitch bit his lip. He knew he would probably regret this, but he had to try. At least one last time.

"You know," Mitch began testing the waters. "That's not the only option."

"No."

"But it would be so—"

"No."

"Just this onc—"

"I am not singing, Mitch."

They've had this discussion multiple times since the foundation of Zero Tolerance, and although Mitch has been through all of them like the five stages of grief, they would always come back to the starting point because, damn, the guy could sing. Brick's voice had Kurt Cobain's velvety undertone, and in the rare times he decided to put it to good use, Brick made Mitch sound like a channel-billed cuckoo in comparison.

But Brick wouldn't sing in public. Like, ever.

And Mitch suspected Brick was just… too embarrassed to do it.

"If I end up spending our Spring Break in the hospital with nodules in my throat, I'm ending our friendship," Mitch threatened.

Brick rolled his eyes, unfazed. Bargaining never worked and Mitch just threw the towel and jumped straight to Acceptance so they could call it a day. "We are following our original plan and if it gets too hard during the show, we cut one song and finish as usual with 'Learn to Fly'."

Harry and Julie nodded in agreement and they all stood up to gather their instruments, signaling the end of rehearsal.

Mitch approached Brick once more when they finished zipping up their guitars. "Hey man, do you want to grab a bite?" he asked.

"Can't. Got a thing."

Mitch curious eyes turned to the mysterious thermal bag Brick had brought but made no mention of sharing the contents with anyone.

"Yeah? Like, a date?"

Ok, so Mitch was fishing.

The events in this past month left the entire school in turmoil. Mitch thought it would begin and end with the very public fallout of the school's most popular couple, but rumors were popping here and there about Brick being in the mix and the gossipmongers on duty were in an uproar.

Despite being Brick's best friend since forever, the Ruff hardly talked about the girls he got involved with. Nevertheless, Mitch knew for a fact him and Blossom would never be a thing. Brick despised her. He couldn't stand being in the same room as Blossom without scrunching his nose. And Blossom didn't seem like she wanted to change their dynamic anytime soon.

However, Mitch smelled a rat when none other than Bubbles started dropping hints – in painfully homeopathic doses – that something was going on between the leaders of Townsville's super powered trios, and when news of the locker room fight reached the populace's ears, all hell broke loose.

Mitch was dying to know. He loved some high school drama.

But Mitch's BFF privileges were worth shit and no one had concrete facts, except maybe for Bubbles, who was being cryptic as fuck. If Brick's brothers knew something about it, they were being hush-hush. And going to the original source was tricky considering said source could go from zero to violence in the blink of an eye.

When Brick made no effort to elaborate on a "Nah" before he turned to leave, Mitch groaned, knowing he would be left high and dry a little bit longer.

.

.

This time, Blossom was already waiting at the doorstep when his feet touched the ground. Brick scanned her down for the usual no skirt check, but stopped at her hands, which held her own version of a raggedy hoodie.

Blossom noticed him staring and shrugged. "I like to be prepared."

Brick snorted. "I can see that," he said. "Ready?"

At her confirmation, they took to the skies. This time, Brick didn't fly through the buildings, choosing instead to rise above them, and together they crossed the city towards the chain of mountains that surrounded Townsville's eastern side.

Slowing down when they approached the nearest elevation of rocks, Brick landed at a small plateau uncovered by the vegetation that spread through most of the mountain.

"This," he said, leaning his guitar case in the stone slope. "Is my secret spot." When a puzzled Blossom looked around, he added, "It doesn't seem much, but all we have to do for now is sit and wait."

"For what?"

Brick took hold of her shoulders and spun her so they were facing the edge of the cliff. Below them, the whole city of Townsville extended towards the horizon, its usual gray buildings now tinted in the shades of yellow and orange from the upcoming dusk, glass panels shining with the last remains of light before, "The sunset."

He stood silent for a moment as Blossom admired the scenery, then pointed to the few smaller mountains to their right. "Do you recognize that hill over there? That's where the lookout is, but since it's turned south towards Farmville, the view is not as nice."

At the mention of the lookout, Blossom coughed.

"Hm, so how did you find this place?"

"By chance, when I was flying around a few years ago."

Her head tilted up so she could look at him from over her shoulder. "So there are no trails that lead here?"

"I don't think so. This is the only piece of plain land with no viable soil for the forest to grow. I suspect this was some crater caused by a monster attack."

Blossom bit her lip, deep in thought. "Does this count as a valid date? Since a normie can't reach it?"

Oh, I'm so glad you asked.

Brick donned the ultra-smug side smirk he liked to use when he wanted to gloat over something particularly clever that he knew no one else would think of and look hot while doing it.

"See that skyscraper near the water tower?" Brick once again raised his index finger to point at the indicated spot. "I paid twenty bucks for the night guard to grant me access to the roof for a few hours."

The surprise in her face was so genuine Brick deemed worth it the two sleepless nights he had spent wandering around the city trying to bribe security guards into risking their jobs over a pride-induced teenage stunt, probably succeeding only because the last guy was a drunk and wanted to spend the money on booze.

But Blossom didn't have to know about that.

"…Which means a date any normie could arrange. But the view is better from up here, so if you don't mind, I'd rather stay."

"I don't believe it." Blossom was shaking her head, bemused. "How did you pull that off?"

"Eh, it was easy," he lied with the practiced smoothness of an eleven-year old who broke the toaster when trying to build a laser gun and wanted to hide that fact from the simian parent who would get his ass grounded during school vacation and forbid him from going to summer camp with his brothers.

"You know that I'll stop by that building later to check your story, right?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"I will."

"I'm counting on it."

"There's more to it that you're not telling me."

"Ask the guy."

"I will."

"Yeah, you already said it."

"How did you come up with this idea anyway? It's very unusual."

"Do you call watching the sunset unusual?"

"If you pay a security guard to watch it from the top of a building, then yes, it's unusual."

"Don't blame me, blame real estate speculation and lack of urban planning in Townsville. You can't watch it from the ground."

"Still. You put a lot of effort into this."

Brick leaned forward, looking right into her coral eyes. "In everything I do, I am nothing but thorough, Blossom."

Blossom froze, and so did Brick.

It hadn't exactly been his intention to move so close. He'd wanted to get to her face and brag a little, maybe shoot her an obnoxious smirk, make a playful remark.

But his facial muscles hadn't obeyed him. His voice hadn't reached that snarky note.

It really, really hadn't been his intention to sound like he was flirting, and Brick was experiencing a brief moment of panic while Blossom's cheeks flushed and, holy fuck, he was about to make things awkward again.

Truly, he blamed her. Yes. It was all her fault. His brain farts wouldn't happen if she'd stuck to their usual dynamic. If he pushed, she had to pull. If he taunted, she had to rise to the challenge. If he stated she was his laughingstock, she had to threaten him with a kick in the nuts.

Not look sad and defeated.

Not say I am sorry or you are right.

Not blush when it seemed like he was making a move on her – which he was absolutely not.

On the other hand, could Brick actually establish the grounds to what constituted their dynamic if they didn't have a dynamic to begin with? Now that he came to think about it, apart from the past few weeks, Brick could hardly remember the last time they had exchanged more than three sentences since their unspoken truce when they were seven.

(It was probably in sixth grade, when he was behind her in the line of the school's cafeteria. He was starving and she was undecided between meat loaf and sausage. He wasn't bothering to hide his impatience and she said huffing and puffing won't make me go faster, to which he replied you can eat my dick if it makes you go faster. She glared and he glared back and she took three more minutes to pick the meat loaf, only to end up not eating and throwing it all in the trash can.)

(No, wait. Technically, that had only been two sentences.)

Regardless of their interactions – or lack thereof –, Brick had to put his shit together and keep in mind his primary goal. He was doing this to humiliate her, to show her how much worse falling for Chad fucking Davies was than falling for a pyramid scheme. She was the one who asked for enlightenment. It didn't matter how she was taking it.

Brick took a generous step back and pretended nothing happened.

"Come, we've still got time," he blurted, kneeling down to open the cooler bag he was carrying. "I've brought food. And drinks."

Brick laid a picnic blanket on the hard floor and motioned for her to sit.

"There are a lot of options here," she noted, peering inside the bag.

"I didn't know what you liked and heavy weight is not a problem, so."

Blossom took a can of iced tea and, "Are those sandwiches?"

"Yeah, I've got ham and cheese, meatball and veggie." Brick grinned. "And I don't mean to brag, but I make the most amazing sandwiches."

Blossom snorted. "You totally do mean to brag, Brick."

Well, she wasn't wrong.

"My meatball sandwich is the best you'll ever have and I can prove."

"We'll see about that." Blossom crossed her arms.

Brick took the baguette wrapped in aluminum foil, but when she moved forward to accept it, he pulled it out of her reach. "Wait." He ignored her huff of impatience and covered the snack with both hands, applying the tiniest fraction of his fiery power. When Blossom unwrapped it, the sandwich was warm and the cheese properly melted.

"Show-off."

Not one to allow him an easy win, though, Blossom took the soda can from his hands and blew her ice breath over it.

"Now who's the show-off?"

"Just returning the favor."

"Really."

Blossom crossed her legs and took a bite of her sandwich.

"Ha. Nice try, Brick."

"What, you didn't like it?"

"I did, but the merit is not yours. You used the secret sauce!"

"The secret sauce is not the only sauce I used."

"But it's the reason why this is the best meatball sandwich."

"So you admit it's the best."

"Yes, but not thanks to you."

Unsurprisingly, they spent a great chunk of time discussing to what degree a chef could receive credit for a dish; moved on to whether sandwiches could be considered culinary art, which Blossom thought it couldn't, for it was the mere acting of piling ingredients between two pieces of bread – though Brick suspected she only said that to vex him and it worked; and ended up with Brick telling her that being in the debate club made Blossom have this Socratic way of bullshitting into every argument, but the smile on his lips was genuine when he said it because that girl was the most insufferable creature in this planet, yet he wouldn't have it any other way.

At some point between trashing cooking shows and stating bacon was overrated, Blossom had donned the hoodie she had brought. Despite the stone wall to their left partially protecting them from the action of the wind, the breeze could be a bit chilly at this height.

It occurred to Brick that Blossom planning ahead and bringing her own hoodie was more of a turn on than borrowing his. He wasted no time in shoving that thought down the depths of his brain in a folder labeled Not To Be Revisited.

Blossom was nibbling the last cookie when she eyed his guitar case. "So… what else did you plan for today?" she teased. "Are you going to serenade me?"

"No," he rushed to say, "and even if I wanted to, this is not an acoustic guitar. I came straight from band practice and that's it."

"Pity."

Brick didn't know why he felt he had to justify himself but he added, "I don't sing."

Blossom's look was a knowing one. "That's not what I've heard."

His ears burned. Brick could only hope his cap would disguise it.

Mitch was a dead man. After the Spring Fling, Brick would murder him. Harry was a coward and Julie knew better than to spread shit. Mitchelson was the culprit. The guy couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it – and it did. Fucking snitch.

"I don't sing," he repeated between gritted teeth. And to cut her interrogatory short, Brick took his Zune from his pocket and handed it to her. "If you want some music, you can borrow it."

Blossom didn't press further, but the smile on her lips was secretive. It fell as soon as she scrolled down his playlist, though.

"Um, can you help me pick something?" she asked. "I don't recognize any of these."

Brick choked on his soda.

For the first time in his life, he was utterly, completely, absolutely speechless.

"What—how? How?" He fought the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her. "These are pretty mainstream. They are everywhere. School parties, MTV, your beloved football games. Even if you weren't a rock fan, you would recognize at least some of them."

Blossom hugged her knees. "Gee, there's no need to ruffle your feathers. Maybe I've heard them before, I just don't know them by name." She seemed embarrassed when she muttered, "I don't listen to music very often."

Brick was flabbergasted. "But how?" he asked, genuinely wanting to know.

It was unfathomable for him to think about life without music. It was background noise when he was doing his chores. Or taking a shower. Or playing ball with his brothers. How did she live through moments of boredom? How did she process emotions? How did she have a personality?

Did she have a personality?

"My sisters are always fighting for the stereo and they can be so annoying about it I don't have the energy to intrude. Bubbles is in a J-POP phase, Buttercup only listens to screaming and my father likes old, boring country songs. Sometimes we leave the radio on, but I don't pay much attention." She shrugged. "When I'm alone, I'm mostly reading anyway."

"Ok, but still…"

Blossom waited up, but Brick had nothing to say. She sighed, turning back to the mp3 player in her hold.

"Look, I'm not picky. As long as it doesn't sound like someone being murdered, I'm good with—oh! Oh, I know this one!"

Her sudden enthusiasm gave him so much whiplash Brick didn't automatically register it when she offered him one of the earbuds. The wire didn't quite reach his ear, so he scooted closer, peering at the screen to find out which one she finally recognized and—

Brick's eyes rolled so hard he was surprised they didn't fall from their orbits.

"Of course it's 'Wonderwall'."

Blossom glared at his theatrics. "It's on your playlist, so what's the problem?"

"I'm not saying it's a bad song. It's just the latest sissy girls fad. In every stupid rom com the guy decides to throw a big lame romantic gesture for a girl he knows for, like, a month or something, he plays this same damn song. And of course the stupid girl that even didn't like him that much until the end of the movie is dazzled by this very public show of affection and jumps the stage to throw herself in his arms. And the crowd goes aaaw and they live happily ever after." Brick ended his rant with a gagging motion.

"Still, it's a good song!"

"It's also fucking basic." Brick paused, eyes narrowed. "You are basic, aren't you?"

Hm. It all made so much sense now.

But Blossom didn't seem to agree. "Now I'm basic for liking a song that you also like?"

"That's not the only thing," he said.

"Oh, there's more nonsense?"

"You dated a Chad."

She sighed. "I don't understand why you always mistake his name for—"

"Because that's what he is!" Brick fought the urge to pull his hair in exasperation. "He is a fucking Chad. Blond jock, dumb as a door, could easily be casted as Bully #3 in a TV show. Dude is a walking stereotype and you kno—oh, don't you dare pretend you don't. Not to me.

"Always parading around school with you at his side like some fucking trophy. Making a show out of every little thing he did for you to boost his own ego. You didn't get to hear the locker room talk, the things he said to his buddies. But you knew all that, didn't you? You're too smart for that. Yet not once, not a single fucking time did I ever see you calling him out on his bullshit. So tell me, explain it to me like I'm fucking five, Blossom, how is this not basic behavior?"

When Blossom's eyes widened, Brick thought for sure she was about to either punch him or flee. But instead of having another brief moment of panic, Brick stood his ground and waited.

He was enraged and couldn't understand exactly why. It pissed him off that the girl who accepted being reduced to arm candy was this same girl in front of him. This girl who, in her unwavering confidence that was so damn attractive, just took what she wanted. This girl who would rise up to any challenge he threw at her, as insignificant as it might be. Who would be unapologetic about her opinions, as controversial as they might sound.

Maybe holding onto the counterpart thing, which was something that didn't exist anymore according to her, was just Brick being stubborn.

Or maybe he was avoiding considering other alternatives in fear of not being pleased with what he might find.

Blossom's gaze was cold and her voice colder when she said, "Do you really want to know why I dated Chase? Fine. I'll tell you. But I don't expect you to understand."

"Why wouldn't I unders—"

"Because your life is normal, Brick. You used to destroy the city for sport and you spit fire whenever you're angry, but it never stopped people from talking to you. You have friends and a social life, and I suspect you also don't have trouble dating, with all these elaborate antics you've been pulling on me."

"What's that have to do with—"

"Everything. You don't know what it feels like when everyone you know, even your own friends, keeps you at arm's length and treats you like you are an unapproachable bitch. What is that thing people call me behind my back? Oh, right, Ice Queen. Because I was a little arrogant brat when I was five and apparently that's an unforgivable sin and I shall live with the consequences for the rest of my life. Because when my sisters bailed on me after we finished fighting a monster, I had to stay behind and act all adult and mature and an example to humankind, doing those endless interviews while they went home to play video games, so all people see in me now is Commander and Leader."

Blossom opened the package of gummy bears with more violence than necessary and some ended up scattered across the blanket. "At school the order day I was just walking to class when a boy nearby cursed. Do you know what he did then, Brick? He looked at me terrified and apologized. He apologized for swearing. To me. As if I was some Grandma. Oooh, watch out for Blossom, the Language Police."

Brick watched bemused as she methodically picked the green gummy bears and stuffed them in her mouth as if they were the cause of all her problems.

"I stopped going to parties," she continued, angrily munching on those tiny perps. "Everybody would get so tense when they saw me, the party would turn into a funeral. Everywhere I went people stopped chatting like I was a Dementor, sucking the joy and happiness out of them. They were afraid Miss Everything Nice and Pristine would look for a reason to ruin it. I couldn't care less if the punch was spiked or if there were people smoking weed in the backyard, I just wanted to dance."

Blossom stopped her tirade to rummage inside the cooler bag, fishing out a water bottle. She chugged half of it in one go and sighed in defeat.

"I just wanted to be a normal teenager." Her shoulders were slumped. "Go out with friends, have pajama parties. I used to hear people at school talking about what they did over the weekend and I envied them. My sisters never had the same problem. They always invite me to hang with them out of pity." Blossom let out a humorless laugh. "Before Chase, I've never even been asked out on a date, can you believe it? I knew there were boys interested in me at school, but they were too scared to talk to me. Funny how boys had never been afraid to talk to Buttercup. She's not the type to let one down gently."

Blossom's expression was sad again when she proceeded to pick all the red gummy bears. "You say whatever you want about Chase, but he was the only boy brave enough to ask me out. And when I was with him, people stopped being weird around me. I could even go to parties and no one would freak out. It was the first time in my high school life I had some level of normalcy. I know Chase is not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he is a cute guy and a good kisser too, and I enjoyed spending time with him. So what if he took me out to the same places or used me to increase his popularity? It was not like I was hopelessly in love with him, wanted to marry him and have his babies. I was using him too.

"The day before he cheated on me, he accused me of not caring enough for him and he was right to some degree. I cried during the English exam because he'd hurt me, yes, but it was mostly frustration for knowing that I've been relying on him to have meaningful experiences when I should be in charge of my own happiness."

She paused to finish her water, then lifted her chin up, her tone almost a challenge. "Go ahead, make fun of me. Call me pathetic, basic, whatever. I regret nothing." When Brick remained silent – he was too dumbstruck –, Blossom grabbed the gummy package and his Zune and stood up. "Or don't say anything, I don't care. Now if you excuse me, you promised me a sunset and I'm going to watch it while listening to my favorite sissy song."

Blossom walked to the edge of plateau. She sat, donned his earbuds and shut herself to the world.

And Brick… Brick just stared.

It came to him how successful he has been in blocking everything Powerpuff related from his life. They often crossed each other in school, with all their shared classes and everything, but he'd never stopped to acknowledge her. To see how she interacted with friends or other students.

As Blossom accused so many others from doing, Brick had been assuming she was, indeed, an unapproachable bitch. That if she wasn't present in a party, it was because she considered it to be beneath her royal ass and not because she felt like an oddball.

Although he believed their old rivalry set himself apart from everyone else when justifying such presumptions, it still didn't sit well with him to know he's been making that mistake.

Now watching the wind blowing the strands of her hair, Brick thought how absurd it was to believe this girl to be unapproachable. It'd been so easy to hang out with her in their not-dates. To fall into a playful routine of making a big deal out of meaningless things just to pass time. To hear her talking so passionately about the stupidest shit – such as olives, who cares so much about olives?

Insane, even, to know no one except a fucking Chad made a move on her, when it was so evident to him now how carefree and good-humored she was.

And beautiful. She was so fucking beautiful.

If they didn't share a history, he'd have to admit they could have been friends. Heck, they could have even been—

Brick covered his face with his hands to swallow a groan, letting his body slide to the floor. Why the fuck his brain glitched so hard when he was around her, projecting such ridiculous, absurd ideas? Was he in the Matrix? Has life so far been a simulated reality and Blossom was his red pill?

Fuck, no.

After this afternoon, there'd be no doubt he had proven his point about Chad fucking Davies' uselessness. Which, given her full length confession, Blossom was well aware of and deliberately chose to ignore, thus making his attempt to enlighten her a waste of time.

… Though it was undeniable that he did have a good tim—anyway.

All of this would be over soon and he'd go back to his usual routine.

With his mind settled, Brick folded his arms behind his head and watched her ridiculously shiny hair gleaming almost otherworldly under the retreating sun, pretending he hadn't just described her as "fucking beautiful".

It was almost dark when Blossom moved back to lie by his side, using his elbow as a pillow and shoving one of the buds in his ear. He made no objections.

They listened to 'Sirens' by Pearl Jam as twilight gave way to dusk. "That's one of my favorites," Brick said mostly to himself.

Her head tilted left so she could look at him. "Do you guys play it?"

Brick pictured Mitch butchering an awesome song and flinched. "No," he said, "but we play another one by the same band."

His ears burned when she just kept staring.

"What's the name of your band again?" she asked.

"Zero Tolerance."

The huff of laughter he felt on his cheek made him shiver.

"It suits you."

"It was Mitch's idea. I only rolled with it because the alternative was worse."

"What was the alternative?"

Brick sighed before replying, "Insector X."

This time, when Blossom truly laughed, she rolled closer, hiding her face in his shoulder.

He would not turn his head, he would not turn his head, he would not—

"That's ridiculous."

"I know," he croaked.

"How did he come up with it?"

"He likes old school video games."

"Oh. That's… fine, I guess. I was hoping for a crazier story."

"Mitch can't come up with a good title for any of his English essays. He's not creative enough to come up with band names."

Blossom rolled back and Brick released the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Hey, can you tell me which songs you guys will be playing at Spring Fling?" she asked. "I'd like to be prepared to sing along."

"Yeah, sure." Brick's free arm reached for his guitar case where the piece of paper he'd scrabbled the set list was kept in the outside pocket, but stopped. He fished his phone instead. "Give me your number and I'll text you the names."

Blossom saved her contact info and once again they fell into a comfortable silence disturbed only by Brick's playlist.

She was the first to break it after a long time when she said, "Your secret spot is nice."

Brick looked up at the stars, shining brighter this far from the polluted air of the city. "It is." It was too dark to see more than her silhouette, but he knew she was looking too.

"I have to admit, I wasn't expecting something like this coming from you."

"Like what?"

"Romantic." She shrugged. "You don't strike me as the type."

Heh. Little did she know how meticulous Brick could be when he felt like it. He supposed it was true when he'd told her he was nothing but thorough in everything he set his mind to. Flirting and dating were just another game he mastered to perfection. All he needed to do was get to know the target.

When it came to Blossom, it was a no brainer for Brick to pick something that involved a little bit of competition. He chose laser tag, but he might as well have taken her to that burger place near City Hall where they had a selection of board games.

If the situation – and his horny mind – called for it, of course Brick could be charming too. Like he did with Jenny Ikeda-Lopez, last year's queen bee and a real unapproachable bitch. Hollywood levels of both hotness and hubris, claimed everybody in school was lame and only went out with rich guys (and girls) from a private school in Citiesville. Not the greatest personality, but Brick had it hard for her and was never one to back down from a challenge. And fuck him if he didn't sweet talk the hell out of that girl for months to convince her he was worth it… only to feel like he was kissing a vacuum cleaner.

What a fucking letdown.

"You were the one who said laser tag didn't count," he accused.

"It didn't."

"So I'm making it count now."

Blossom sighed. "Yes. I'd have loved to have a real date here," she whispered.

Her words nagged him, which didn't make any sense considering she was right. It wasn't a real date.

And yet… it didn't feel fake. Not when they stood there, side by side, just staring at the sky. Not when he wasn't focusing too hard in making a (useless) point.

Fucking Matrix.

Brick shoved those thoughts aside.

"You know he just asked you out because he couldn't read the fucking room, right?" he whispered back.

Blossom chuckled. "If that's the case, I'm grateful for his obliviousness." She sighed again. "But I'm also relieved it's over. I don't think I could stand yet another game we lose due to Chase not being able to read the other half of the field."

"He also can't read a fucking blitz."

"And his footwork is terrible."

"So is his pocket presence."

"Let's just agree he won't get any scholarships next year."

"And the world will be a better place for it."

She snorted.

"So. What are you going to do now?" he asked.

"I don't know. The same thing as everyone, I guess? Hope to be accepted in a good college next year and start over where no one knows me. Though I suppose I should just try to be honest with my friends and sisters and tell them how they make me feel." Blossom shrugged. "Things have… changed, to some degree. Or at least they didn't come back to how it was. Everyone is being nice to me for, you know, being the victim of a public affair. We'll see how things pan out when the pity party stops."

"For the record, I don't pity you."

Blossom turned on her side again, the ghost of a smile in her voice. "I appreciate that."

"I might even start saying good morning to you at school. Once a week or something."

"Wow. You've gone soft."

"Don't get your hopes up. You're still basic."

"You know what, Brick? I'll make you eat your words. I'll start writing down the names of the songs I like. I'll even buy a CD and a T-shirt when I pick a favorite band. Then we'll see who's basic."

"You are."

"I hope my new found taste in music greatly displeases you, Brick."

"I wouldn't expect anything different."

"Of course. It'd be a crime to think of me doing something cool."

"In at least ninety countries."

"Then I'll get my tips of how to be a criminal from you."

"We are a joyful bunch this side of the law."

"Pff. As if you still knew how to be on the other side of the law."

"After your regrettable take on bacon, I might find out again."

"Are you still mad at me for that?"

"It was a blasphemy and you know it."

"I stand by it. And you know what, Brick? I won't indulge you in another cuisine lecture. The night is far too pleasant for that."

"Now who's gone soft?"

"Not you," she complained, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Your arm is too hard to be a good pillow."

Brick made a Herculean effort not to move her closer to his chest, afraid she would notice how fast his heart was beating. But it bothered him to know he wanted to. Or rather, it bothered him that it didn't bother him that she seemed unbothered by being so close to him.

He shut his eyes, urging the feeling to go away. But the warmth of her breath fanning his cheek was torture. And in the dark, it was easier to believe she wasn't a Powerpuff and he wasn't indoctrinated to loathe her.

Brick couldn't let his mind wander to dangerous places. He just couldn't.

"Hey," he muttered, drawing his arm back to sit up. "It's getting late. I should take you home."

He pretended he didn't notice the disappointment in her voice when she replied, "Ok."

He'd been doing a lot of pretending tonight, it seemed.

Brick used his power to generate some light and Blossom helped him gather everything and stuff it back in the bag.

Blossom insisted they stopped first at the building he'd claimed to have successfully secured a spot in the roof. Upon the guard's confirmation, she threw him a suspicious look. Brick only answered it with his "I win again, who'd have thought?" grin.

Despite being in desperate need of some distance, Brick didn't hurry in the way back to her house. It was easy to forget how good it felt to fly around at night when the skies were clear.

(Fine, maybe he was stalling a little bit.)

It was almost ten when they arrived. The porch lights were on, but the curtains were closed. The fact that there'd be no prying eyes on them made itself known to Brick like a punch in the stomach.

As Blossom was distracted trying to find her keys, Brick thought how tempting it would be to kiss her now. To put a strand of hair behind her ear to draw her attention back and just lean down and kiss those damn inviting lips. His fingers were itching so bad to do it, Brick had to shove his hands in his pockets and tighten them in closed fists.

When she finally turned to look at him, Brick hurried to speak before yet another moment of silence, comfortable or not, could fall between them.

"Are you convinced now?" he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

The smile she gave him should also be considered a crime in at least ninety countries.

"I am." Then her smile turned mischievous. "But."

What the fuck, what the motherfucking fuck.

"You still didn't prove your point," she said, crossing her arms.

Brick gaped. "What. I can't even—"

"Your point," she continued, "was to prove that anyone could do better."

Kill him.

"So far, you've only proved that you can do better."

Fucking murder him.

Blossom turned her key to unlock the door all the while looking at him with her signature petulance.

Before she entered, though, Blossom floated closer to his face and placed a slow peck on the corner of his mouth.

"Good night, Brick," was the last thing she chirped before she shut the door in his face.

.

.

"Hey, Butch?"

"Yeah?"

"Suppose you have a date."

"Ok…?"

"And you have to pick up a place. In Townsville."

"I mean… Gennaro's is nice and close to the movies."

"I know, but what about an unconventional place?"

"I don't know, bro. Maybe that lookout—"

"Never mind."

.

.

Not a single individual believed he could take care of three little boys when he won the custody battle over that overbearing, flamboyant, half-crustacean devil. People would often conveniently forget the word evil was succeeded by the word genius, after all.

Therefore, it was with great motivation, fueled by the will to prove everyone wrong, that he, Mojo Jojo, reformed villain and inventor extraordinaire, decided to turn his greatest creations in upstanding citizens of Townsville.

And so raising his children became a matter of utmost importance in his life, since the main condition to regain guardianship was for him to cease and desist of all his illicit endeavors.

Although common sense dictated that supporting and educating children was an arduous challenge, and even more so for a solo parent with super powered triplets, Mojo remained undeterred, for his brilliance alone would be enough to get his otherwise rowdy children to behave within the limits of the law.

(Eileen from book club pointed out that telling six-year-olds the CIA threatened to imprison and use them as subjects for painful experiments could be rather traumatizing and that of course they would stay in line if they were too scared. But Eileen's son had just had to be rushed to the hospital for shoving a bean inside his nose that wouldn't come out, so Mojo didn't consider Eileen's intellect level, which was inherited by her dim-witted offspring, sufficient to define a reliable set of parameters regarding a child's upbringing.

Besides, he didn't lie to them.)

Despite being capable of great destruction, his boys grew up like any other normal human kid, aside from a minor mischief of two. All it took was providing them with a plethora of video games and using credit card points to buy new toasters from time to time.

In the years to come, Mojo Jojo would've thought he had everything taken care of and he'd just have to sit back and watch his beautiful sons grow up…

Until a particular episode involving Boomer and a sock.

Reasonably, nature was just following its course and it was time for his beloved children to become teenagers.

His previously sweet, complacent boys would then take every opportunity to antagonize, object, oppose and ultimately protest anything he had to say, as trivial as the subject might be, thus making his life a living nightmare, for the mere act of asking any of his sons for anything, such as go grocery shopping or cutting the tomatoes, would turn into a never ending battle of you-go-no-you-go that could only end in headache, more specifically, his headache.

Other than being overly annoying and spending too much of his money on hyaluronic acid, though, Mojo still believed his sons to be under control.

When Betsy from book club announced with great distress that her sixteen-year-old granddaughter got pregnant by accident, Mojo took the opportunity to ensure something similar would never happen to his boys and came up with an easy solution to teach them the consequences of being careless.

(Betsy argued that installing an audio system to blast the sound of a baby crying in random intervals day and night for two weeks was not the right way to educate his children about sexual activities.

Well, had they brought a pregnant girlfriend to his home so far, Betsy? No, they had not.)

The practical problems Mojo could easily deal with or adapt accordingly. The real dilemma was how to handle the chemical changes going inside their brains that were related to – according to the Cosmo Mojo had read during a dentist appointment – body image, self-confidence, impulsivity and emotional volatility, among others.

It'd already reached his attention that sometimes there seemed to be hidden meanings behind his sons' words or that they'd be troubled about something but refuse to explain why. Thus, in order to prevent serious problems – also listed on Cosmo –, it'd become his parental duty to decipher their mood swings in a manner alike the archeologists who first translated the hieroglyphs.

With a stone engraved manual and a great deal of luck.

(Mojo didn't own the Rosetta Stone, so a couple of parenting books would have to suffice. As for the great deal of luck, that would always depend on the universe, but he could also rely on Linda from book club, a therapist that, despite not having children of her own, always gave him good advice and didn't question his peculiar methodology of household managing.)

Identifying the underlying patterns in his sons' behavior while respecting their right to privacy was both exhausting and a labor of love, but it became progressively easy to him over the years – mainly for the fact their problems almost always revolved around females.

That was how Mojo had noticed something was wrong with Brick the moment he'd asked his son to wash the dishes and Brick didn't complain.

Brick had always been a naturally moody boy. He mostly kept to himself in his room, listening to music or strumming his guitar, which didn't mean he wouldn't drop the occasional 'smarty pants' – Butch's words – remark or pass the time with his brothers. But lately, Brick had been distracted, rather than aloof. And gloomy, rather than grumpy.

When Mojo wanted to know if something atypical was going on with one of them, he would first look at the other two. If they seemed unconcerned, there'd be no reason to worry.

If they were sitting still and staring at each other – like Mojo has seen Butch and Boomer doing more than once in the past week –, in that silent communication manner that was common to twins, Mojo knew an investigation was needed.

His suspicions proved right after the length of a week in which Brick's mood didn't improve. Spying his other sons' behavior didn't give him any meaningful clues about the matter either. Mojo was frustrated for not understanding what a radio head was or why his brothers kept calling Brick a creep, so he took the decision to directly intervene.

On Saturday morning, Mojo Jojo woke up at his usual time, way earlier than any of the boys, only to hear movement coming from Brick's bedroom. Since the situation presented itself, Mojo donned his "Word's Best Kreator" apron and prepared Brick's favorite breakfast – black coffee, as bitter and unpalatable as possible, and disgustingly greasy eggs and bacon.

After knocking on his door, Mojo found Brick sitting at his desk, surrounded by school supplies. He greeted Mojo's food with a curt grunt – which Mojo'd come to find that, in teenage language, meant thank you.

"Tell me, my son, why are you up in the wee hours of morning on a weekend, meaning the end of the week, thereafter a day with no school, which would deem unnecessary the act of getting up by first light, for there is no classes to attend to?" Mojo inquired. "Don't you wish to be well rested for tonight's school dance, where you'll be making a performance with your musical ensemble?"

(In Mojo's opinion, the music Brick was so endeared to sounded like senseless noise, but Linda reminded Mojo the importance of showing interest to his son's hobbies, once they represented both his individuality and his sense of belonging into a group.

Mojo'd be proud to tell her later that he'd even asked Boomer to record the show.)

"Just finishing an essay," Brick mumbled.

The fact he apparently didn't mind the coffee spill on his notebook was alarming.

Mojo moved closer and inspected the worn copy of Pride and Prejudice lying on Brick's desk. "I thought your class was studying Oscar Wilde?"

Brick flinched, refusing to look at him. "We are. This is, err, for extra grade."

"Why would you need extra grade?" Mojo pressed.

"I, hm…sort of failed a test."

"Failed as in a C or failed as in—"

"As in an F, Mojo." Brick sighed. "Had an accident with a pen and the ink smudged my answers."

Mojo narrowed his eyes. Brick was clearly hiding crucial information from him.

"All of them?"

"Yes, all of them, ok? Fucking disaster."

"Watch your language, boy."

Brick's long grunt indicated he was going to release a stream of bad words as soon as Mojo exited the room out of spite. "My bad. Look, I really need to finish this now."

"At eight in the morning on a Saturday?"

Brick glared at his coffee. "Yes," he said between clenched teeth.

When Mojo didn't move an inch to give him privacy, Brick covered his face with his hands. "Yes, it needs to be now, I'm going to be sick if I have to spend one more day looking at this stupid excuse of a book."

Mojo gasped. "Brick Jojo, how dare you? I've taught you better than this."

"What?" he snapped. "What did I do now?"

"Pride and Prejudice is not stupid, it's a classical, ageless—"

"Argh, not you too. Spare me of this bullshit." Brick released his fork with a clunk. "There's nothing special about it, it's just a poorly written stupid love story."

Mojo snarled and pointed a shaky finger at him. "I refuse to accept that a son of mine would say such blasphemous, profane, sacrilegious and impious things against one of the most prominent literary works of the nineteenth century."

"Disown me, then. It's stupid."

"Do tell me, child, why do you reject it so vehemently?"

"It's forced and implausible. Elizabeth spent the whole book hating Darcy only to magically fall in love with the guy after, wait for it, the ever so original Big Lame Romantic Gesture trope."

"That's not when she falls in love with him."

"But as sure as hell didn't hurt either, did it? If she's willing to overlook the fact he called her ugly, poor and inferior in class."

Mojo sighed deeply and moved to sit at the edge of Brick's bed. "Son, I think you are missing the point of the book."

"Really."

"Did you know its original title was First Impressions?"

His rebellious son crossed his arms. "So what?"

"So it's about how misjudging one's character based on an initial assumption, and consequently letting these preconceived notions further influence your opinion and your actions, can sabotage a chance of love and happiness."

Certainly the book was much more nuanced than that, but looking at his son frozen in place, Mojo suspected he'd hit the right nerve.

"Answer me this, boy. Do you really believe it to be forced when two people change their minds about each other in light of new events?"

"… No."

"And do you think it's implausible that someone would do a big lame romantic gesture, as you put it, if it meant a substantial increase in their chance of love and happiness?"

Brick slumped in his chair. "I suppose not."

Mojo watched him in silence for a while.

"Son?"

"What."

"This is not about the book, is it?"

Brick poked the food remains in his plate. "Not really."

On the one hand, Mojo was content Brick hadn't miscomprehended his reading. On the other hand, the true reason for his mood swings was yet to be determined.

Mojo went for the most logical guess. "Is it female related?"

Brick stood fast, grabbing his cap and wallet.

"I'm going for a walk."

But of course. Mojo mentally rolled his eyes.

"Don't forget your coat."

.

.

It was hard to admit but Brick was bummed.

For weeks, they'd planned and rehearsed and talked about how awesome it would be when they'd finally get to the stage and play. To hear the crowd go wild, feel like real rock stars. Julie had been thinking about throwing herself at the crowd and letting it carry her away at the end of the show. Mitch had been bragging about all the guys that would fall at his feet like groupies in love.

Harry… had been throwing up with nerves the whole week, but Brick knew he'd turn into a beast as soon as he sat behind those drums.

At least half of the school was crumpled in the limited space of the gym, dancing to their jam. His jam.

But while Mitch was running and jumping and living the dream, Brick was going through the set list on auto pilot.

Mojo had put the nail in his proverbial coffin.

He had in vain tried to pretend it wasn't happening.

He had in vain tried to convince himself it was all part of an elaborate ruse to turn his own game against him. If someone could pull one over him, it would be Blossom. She had the wit to make him pay for his arrogance. And the cunning to make up a heart-sobbing story. So when he inevitably lowered his guard, she'd laugh and say how's that for enlightenment, you misogynistic pig? You can eat your own dick for all I care, I'd rather go through a whole platter of meatloaf. Then she'd proceed to tell the whole school who the real basic loser was.

He had in vain tried to select a suitable candidate to move along with the plan to prove his point and finally come out with some sort of victory over this entire shit show. But no one would do.

Brick couldn't stand the idea of anyone else taking her out on a date, fake or not. He was fucking hooked.

For Blossom Utonium. The embodiment of Everything Nice. The Commander and Leader of the Powerpuff Girls. His arch nemesis. His demise. His fucking undoing.

What scared Brick the most was not the attraction per se, but the fact that he wanted to be with her. Spend time with her. Hear her laughter. Talk to her about unimportant things. And important things too.

His mind wouldn't let him take a fucking break, not even in his sleep. More than once had he dreamt of her. That they were in his secret spot again, lying together and looking at the stars. Only this time, he did turn his head. And when he finally kissed those sweet lips, they tasted like gummy bears.

(To be fair, Brick had also dreamt Mrs. Stein was chasing him in a house with chicken legs. But that was beside the point.)

It didn't help that in their shared classes he'd stare at the back of the Puff's head and remind how shiny her hair could be under the sunset. Or that she'd smile at him every time they crossed paths in the corridors and he'd smell her perfume. Or that now that he had her number, he'd stare at the screen of his phone for hours, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse to talk to her, only to find none.

It was official: he was lame.

But Brick wasn't the type to sulk for long. Once he came to terms with it, he knew he would be capable of adapting, like he did in laser tag. He just hadn't decided how he'd approach the subject yet.

Now, squinting his eyes under the heavy strobe lights, Brick finished scanning the crowd for the fourth time. And for the fourth time, he was disappointed to find out she wasn't there.

He'd texted her the songs list days ago. She'd replied him with a "thanks!" and a smiley face.

Blossom didn't show up.

And Brick was fucking bummed.

Zero Tolerance finished another number to thundering applause. Their set was almost over, but Mitch's voice was clearly at its limit already.

Brick approached Mitch and covered his microphone before speaking. "Let's cut Guns and finish this."

"Or I'll have to communicate by smoke signals until summer break," Mitch agreed.

Brick was about to retreat to his spot at Mitch's right when something caught his attention at the other end of the gym, a scene that was previously blocked from his line of sight by the stage lights.

It was Chad fucking Davies.

He was kneeling in the middle of a heart made of fake flowers – which Brick recognized as a part of the Spring Fling décor –, hands above his heart in a declamation Brick couldn't hear.

And with her back turned to Brick, that mane of red hair that could only belong to Blossom.

Chad fucking Davies was doing it. He was making his last, desperate move.

He was pulling the Big Lame Romantic Gesture card on Blossom.

Brick saw red.

What the—

A hand pulled his arm hard enough to bring Brick back to earth a millisecond before smoke started coming out of his nostrils. Thank the rock gods Mitch knew him so well.

But oh if he wasn't pissed.

"Man, what the hell?" Mitch mumbled in his ear.

Yes Mitch, exactly. What the hell?

Brick puffed. Behind them, his acoustic guitar was laying on its stand, calling for him like the cursed doll of a horror movie that would stab his heart and steal his body. He inspected it, an idea forming in his mind.

"You know what, Mitch? Why don't you take a break? Julie and Harry too."

The trio watched him with confused expressions as he detached the strap of his electric guitar and replaced it with the acoustic one.

"Brick?" Mitch's voice was dangerously hoarse when he had to raise it to be heard over the cheering crowd. "Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

Brick shoved Mitch aside to stand in front of the main microphone. "I'm just trying to substantially increase my fucking chances or whatever."

Mitch's face showed he didn't understand a thing, but instead of wasting Brick's time with stupid questions, he was smart enough to retreat to the side of the stage along with Julie and Harry.

No way. There'd be no way he'd lose to that jerkface.

Brick's fingers strummed the familiar first chords of 'Wonderwall' to another wave of cheering. His attention, though, was solely focused on Blossom.

When she pivoted on her heels upon hearing his voice, Brick made sure he was staring right back at her. There would be no misreading his intention.

He was going to sing for her, and for her only.

She watched him in awe, completely ignoring Chad fucking Davies' protests behind her. Yes, he smirked to himself. I am better than this douche. Me. Choose me.

And Brick fucking sang it. He sang it so hard the gym suffered a minor earthquake when he was done.

Brick gifted Blossom with the smirk that meant he knew how bad she had it for him – he knew shit – before he turned to quickly exchange guitars again.

Mitch was almost in tears when he climbed back to the stage.

"Talk later, let's just fucking finish this," Brick said, taking a look around to check if Harry and Julie were already settled.

Then he played the riff to Foo Fighters' 'Learn to Fly' and that was it.

.

.

Boomer stopped the recording.

"Hey, Butch?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you see that…?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think they are…?"

"Yeah."

Boomer shoved the camera in the bag.

"He's totally going to want his video game time soon, right?"

"Yeah."

.

.

Brick almost regretted doing a solo. Almost.

"—you killed it, you fucking—"

"—knew it would be awesome—"

"—should have seen the people freaking out—"

He tuned Mitch out while he winded the amplifier's cables, though Brick suspected he wouldn't be hearing the end of Mitch's ass kissing any time soon.

Honestly, it didn't matter to him what people thought. Only what she thought. But those stupid lights threatening to give him a seizure didn't let him grasp her reaction after he'd moved back to his original position on the stage.

It was obvious she seemed impressed, but was she convinced he was the easiest choice she'd ever make in her life?

Let's be honest, Chad fucking Davies couldn't compete with him in anything. That dweeb believed in the stupidest hoaxes, Bigfoot, zodiac signs, homeopathy. It was only a matter of time for him to fall into a financial scam and lose an important family heirloom and maybe a vital organ in the process.

Blossom knew that. Why was she giving him the time of the day at the gym, though? During his show?

Fuck, Brick was still mad.

But there was no point dwelling on this now. He'd made his statement. The ball was at her court and he would have to sit and wait for her response.

As usual, Brick took the heaviest pieces of equipment and carried them to Julie's old van.

"How about some celebratory burgers, guys?" Harry beamed as he helped Brick finish loading their instruments.

"I'm in," said Mitch.

"So am I," Julie said, then batted her eyelashes at Brick. "Why don't you check if your brothers want to tag along?"

Julie had a major crush on Boomer.

And on Boomer's girlfriend.

"Fine." Brick rolled his eyes. "I'll be back in a second."

Brick returned to the gym, scanning the area for his siblings.

He almost missed Blossom leaning on a wall next to him.

"Hey," she called.

Blossom had that secretive smile on her face that hinted she knew something Brick didn't. He wasn't excited to realize his stomach hurt with nerves.

Brick played it cool.

"Hey," he said back, shoving his hands in his pockets and relaxing his posture.

"Nice show."

"Yeah, I know. But thanks."

"Pff." Blossom rolled her eyes playfully. "I thought you didn't sing?"

She had him on that. Brick could try to explain it was a one-time thing. Meaning, not to be repeated ever again. Mitch just needed a break, that's all.

But again, that secretive smile… Brick wouldn't be bullshitting anyone today. She knew he did it for her.

He shrugged. "Eh."

"Do you remember what happens in the movies when the guy sings 'Wonderwall' to the girl, Brick?" Blossom straightened up and moved closer to him. "Help me out here, I think the girl climbs the stage and kiss him, was that it?"

Unsurprisingly, Brick's hands were clammy. Fucking great.

"Something like that, yes," he muttered.

Blossom sighed in disappointment. "Too bad it didn't happen today."

Brick paled.

He was right about the elaborate ruse that would bite him in the ass, wasn't he?

"That made me so sad." Blossom looked at him with pity. "I'd have loved to see the disgust in your face when you realized you'd become the thing you loathe most in the world: a sissy girl fad."

The fact this minor detail wasn't even in Brick's mind when he'd made the decision to sing was… shocking. So was the fact he wouldn't have cared anyway.

He just wanted to win the girl. He wanted it so bad it was just pathetic at this point.

Oblivious to the turmoil going on inside his head, Blossom's eyes watched Brick's every reaction like a hawk, probably looking for the slightest sign of weakness, so she could finally dig her claws in his jugular.

"I could have done it myself, of course."

Brick fought the urge to hide his burning ears. "Oh?"

"Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to pass through the crowd in time." Blossom lifted her shoulders, resigned. "I guess I could float to the stage, but then people would see underneath my skirt, so…"

Brick huffed. "So you learned nothing."

Fucking Puff, he had one rule. One single—

Blossom held his face between her hands.

"I learned plenty," she said against his lips before she kissed him.

Blossom Utonium was kissing him.

Later, Brick would probably beat himself for the fact he had countless opportunities to kiss her, only to waste them all and end up being kissed by her instead. Now, though, he was focusing on other things.

For example, he was focusing on regaining control of that kiss by circling her waist with his arms and pushing her against the wall. Also, he was focusing on giving her the best fucking kiss of her life because it didn't go unnoticed for him when she'd previously mentioned Chad fucking Davies was a good kisser and hell could freeze over if he ever let her believe that stupid asswipe was a better kisser than hi—

"Brick?"

"Hm?"

"Is it smoke that I smell?"

"… No."

Blossom sighed. "Brick, were you jealous?"

"Absolutely not."

"You know I was just telling him off, right?"

"Of course I know."

Blossom forced him to look at her. "I have more self-respect than accepting him back after what he did to me."

"You'd better."

"Besides, you were very convincing." She let her fingers trail down his cheek to his jaw.

"I told you I'm thorough."

Blossom pulled him closer again.

"What about your point?" she asked against his neck.

"Who cares about that?"

Her chuckle made a shiver run through his spine. "So you don't care if it ends up in a tie?"

"Technically, I think we're both winning here."

Blossom smiled and joined their lips again.

"I'll have to agree with you this time, but don't get used to it."

.

.

Doris Stein unglued her eyes from the novel she was reading to stare at Mr. Reyes' fidgety form.

"What is it, Marcus?" she asked the Biology teacher, her chaperoning partner for this year's Spring Fling.

Mr. Reyes motioned to a corner of the gym with his head, where a couple of teenagers were engaged in a very public make out session.

Which was unsurprising, considering the also very public declaration of love not fifteen minutes ago.

"Shouldn't we tell them to slow down?"

Doris took her glasses off and cleaned its lenses with a hand embroidered handkerchief.

"Slow down what? I'm not seeing anything."

"But—"

"Leave the children be, Marcus."

Doris Stein put her glasses on and went back to her book.