Chapter Text
Dark clouds rolled like ocean waves over Townsville, bringing a chilly wind along with it. Thunder crashed overhead, drawing Buttercup’s attention from the dribbling of her basketball, “Damn. I was on a roll,” she mumbled as the ball slipped from her hands. Muttering curses under her breath, Buttercup hurried towards the direction of her home.
Unfortunately, she didn’t hurry enough. Unable to fly because of the storm, Buttercup was left with having to make it home on foot. By the time she was halfway back, she was drenched and chilled to the bone. Her onyx hair splayed on her face as she let out an impressive chain of expletives into the pattering rain. Why didn’t she leave earlier? Absorbed in her thoughts, she did not hear the small pickup pull up behind her.
“Need a ride?” Buttercup could hear the sneer in his voice as she turned to face her counterpart. She immediately felt her face scrunch up with disgust, but then again, she did need a ride.
“Not from you.” She replied pointedly, Butch feigned offense.
“Well I never, little old me just trying to help out a damsel in distress-“ His words were cut off by a streak of green and Buttercup’s fist connecting with his jaw.
“Ow. Look just get in; I won’t pull anything.” Butch said as he rubbed where Buttercup had hit him.
She smirked as a red mark appeared on his face, but then returned her attention to her predicament. It was storming bad and was only going to get worse. With a resigned sigh, Buttercup ran around to the passenger side of the antique automobile and pulled herself into the worn fabric seat.
“Thanks,” she grumbled, her statement punctuated by another roll of thunder.
Butch grinned, “anything for you, BC.” His eyes glittered with an emotion Buttercup couldn’t place... Was it nervousness?
They made it three and a half blocks before a deep roar emitted from the engine, followed by two pitiful coughs and a groan, and Butch quickly pulled off to the side of the road as the motor gave out. “Oh no, baby, no…” Butch began to clutch at the dash, attempting to coddle the machine back to life, “it’s not your time yet! You had so many more years left!”
“Dammit, this was a dumb idea! I should have known your piece of junk truck would shit out on us!” Buttercup buried her head in her hands. It was now raining, violently.
“Oi! Don’t talk about Baby like that.” Butch patted the dash soothingly, “We will fix you right up after this damn storm, don’t you worry.” Buttercup groaned, boys suck.
“How many miles were on this thing anyway? 200,000?” Buttercup asked.
“More like 289,000,” Butch had his head on the steering wheel. “It’s not like I can afford a sports car since you and your sister’s made us stop being criminals!”
“Oh! So this is my fault?” Buttercup felt her voice begin to pitch, green energy accumulating on her fingertips. “I make you stop mugging people, and now it’s my fault that you can’t afford a vehicle made in this century.”
“Oh my god, I’m about to fly up into the storm clouds and get zapped just to put myself out of the misery of being in this vehicle with you!” Butch snipped, his eyes beginning to narrow. “Not all of us have daddies who we can rely on for this shit.”
“Bring my dad into this! I dare you!” Buttercup’s eyes began to glow, and Butch’s hands clenched tightly. Their faces inches from each other’s as their insults began to hit closer and closer to home.
“Screw this! I’m walking!” Just as Buttercup threw open the door, the severe weather sirens started up.
The radio chirped to life, “Stay indoors! Severe weather warning in action! Stay indoors!” Butch hit the off button on his radio and glanced to Buttercup.
“Bitch.” He mumbled.
“Ass.” She muttered.
*******
It had been 45 minutes, and the storm had only gotten worse. The truck may be old, but it was borderline indestructible. Branches were flying every which way but were bouncing off the steel frame like feathers off a blanket. Butch and Buttercup had continued spitting back different insults at each other to pass the time, although it slowly turned into a playful game.
“I can’t think of any more names,” Buttercup said sheepishly.
“Me neither.” Butch laughed, “But I got another game.”
“Shoot.” Buttercup leaned into her seat.
“Remember never have I ever?” Butch raised his brow with a smirk.
“Are you serious? I remember playing that in sixth grade!” Buttercup snickered.
“You’re just afraid I’m going to win.” Butch challenged her as he leaned in a bit closer.
“Alright, you are on.” Buttercup raised both hands, “I go first. Never have I ever slept with a girl.”
Butch frowned, “That's not fair.” He slowly brings his index finger down. “My turn, never have I ever slept with a guy.” Buttercup blushed and kept all ten fingers steady.
“Wait, are you serious?” Butch’s eyes widened in amusement and.. excitement?
Buttercup’s eyes took on a furious glow, “What do you mean are you serious? There is nothing wrong with that!”
“Hey! Hey! Relax! I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I was just... Surprised. I mean you’re kind of hot.” Buttercup punctuated Butch’s sentence with a punch to his nose. Butch groaned and pinched his nose. “It was a compliment.”
Buttercup felt slightly better as she watched the blood pour out of his nose, but also felt something else.. Guilt?
“Here, tilt your face down. Then the blood doesn't run down your throat.” Buttercup grasped the base of his neck and gently tilted him down. His shaggy black hair tickled her skin, leaving goosebumps along with her hand.
Butch’s breath hitched in his throat. She was touching him. Oh. My. God. She was touching him. And it felt... Nice. His bright green eyes darted around him, and his blood was dripping down his shirt, on his hands, and her shirt. “Oh shit, I’m getting blood on you.”
“You never cared before.” Buttercup sneered. Butch chuckled. While maintaining Buttercup's grip on him, he leaned over and flipped through his cassette tapes. Buttercup noticed they were all made by Butch, as evidenced by the doodles and curse words adorning the outside casings.
"You like The White Stripes?" He lifted the tape, beaten up from its overuse.
Buttercup blinked, surprised by their similar music taste. "Yeah, I do," she said softly. Butch popped the tape into the cassette player, listening to the raspy vocals and pelting rain harmonize with one another.
They sat there accompanied by an acoustic ballad, breathing in synchronization, until the rain fell slower, slower, until it didn't fall at all.