Work Text:
Townsville, 1973
Brick sat on the couch, sorting through piles of candy he and the other Ruffs had nabbed earlier in the day. Butch could be heard outside screaming as he jumped up and down in puddles.
Suddenly, Brick noticed Boomer standing in front of him. He hissed and looked up. “What do you want?” He barked, agitated.
Boomer stared blankly and then scratched the back of his neck.
“What? Spit it out already!” Brick was getting pissed. He hated when that stupid kid Boomer bothered him.
“I want to wear a skirt.”
Brick stopped—his brain short-circuited. He looked over at Butch, then at Boomer again. Just then, the door opened and Butch walked in.
“That might actually be the dumbest, lamest thing you have EVER said.” Brick said at last, still processing.
Butch said, “Hey Boomer, do you want to play worm king? There are soooo many of them outside.”
Brick suddenly came to his senses and slapped Boomer across the room. “Don’t EVER bother me with something stupid like that again!”
Butch blinked one eye after another.
“What are you staring at?” Brick snapped.
Butch raised his hands in defense. “I just want to play worm king.”
“What the heck is ‘worm king’?”
Boomer giggled. “It’s like rat king. You take the worms and tie the ends together and watch them struggle—“
Brick recoiled. “Seriously, Boomer, what is wrong with you?”
“It’s fun.”
Boomer ended up getting his skirt. It was black, and he wore black stockings with it to match the “Rowdyruff uniform.”
Not only was he adorable, he could also beat the snot out of anybody anytime (which Brick and Butch liked) while looking adorable.
As a child, Boomer adored this strange picture book about a red-haired Parisian girl. It was called Madeline, or something or other.
In the books, Madeline wore a yellow hat with a large black ribbon at the back, a yellow dress (often worn under a nice blue coat), and a pair of white gloves.
There were also a few cartoons that went with these books that Boomer would often watch (he had them all on VHS).
Brick and Butch would often walk in and find Boomer watching these cartoons.
“Boomer, when are you going to stop watching this crap?”
“Never!”
He loved seeing that yellow dress, which was sometimes red—in the cartoons they were. Something that bothered him about the cartoons was how Madeline’s hair was black and not red like how it was supposed to be.
Those little dresses appealed to him so much so that one day, while Brick and Butch were in the room, he pointed at the book and said he wanted a dress like that.
Brick did not look up from his notebook. “If that’s what you want.”
Butch squinted. “Where the hell are you going to find a getup like that?”
Before Boomer could reply, Brick said, “He’ll figure it out.”
Boomer got found his Madeline dress—it was everything he’d hoped for. His sister had sewn it for him, so it was especially to his liking.
When he got a little older, he stole a pair of Victorian lace-up leather boots and wore them with this dress. They were very nice, and he liked them very much.
Boomer wore many dresses following his Madeline obsession. One that he liked in particular was white with lace trimming, puffed sleeves, and a light blue sash.
At age thirteen, Boomer read the longest book ever—it was 777 whole pages, and it was named “Little Women.” The book was about four sisters living during the civil war (the book was “literally ancient,” having been published in 1868). Boomer took a liking to the book, for whatever reason.
Perhaps he found it funny. None of his brothers were sure why he adored the strange little book (he did have many qualms with it, but that isn’t important).
There was a particular character named Amy March, the youngest sister who was always trying to act “proper.” On the first read, he disliked her for many reasons—being spoiled, vain, and generally irritating—and especially for burning Jo’s manuscript.
Two of his siblings were avid writers, and he could never imagine something like that happening to their own stories which he enjoyed so much.
Then Amy went off and married Laurie. The horror! The boy was inconsolable.
“Brick, he’s still going on about that stupid book.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”
How was he supposed to get Boomer to shut up about it?
Butch thought about it. He thought about it for a long while—Amy was blonde, wore blue…Boomer was kind of self-obsessed, wasn’t he? He frowned. Not really…but he’s in ballet, and that’s kinda “proper,” doesn’t Amy do shit like that?
“Seriously, dude,” Butch said. “You want to know what I think?”
“What?” Boomer asked.
The corner of Butch’s mouth twitched. “You really don’t like this Amy chick, but you seriously act like her.”
Boomer’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I’m serious.”
“WHAT! WHAT!” Boomer screamed. “No, I’m not!”
“Yeah you are, ‘Amy.’” Butch smirked.
That was the last straw.
“GET OUT!” Chairs and books were flung across the room, mainly in Butch’s direction. A vase shattered against the wall.
“Holy shit!”
He barely escaped with his life that day.
Boomer thought about it. He thought about it for a long while.
The thought burned in his mind. What if I AM Amy?
Butch thought he was being funny. Well, he’d show him! He’d go up to him and say, “Yes, I AM Amy! So who are you, Aunt March?”
Boomer did not actually say that last part, but he did say the first part. Butch found it funny. Boomer started calling him Beth.
Butch did not enjoy the comparison between himself and a mousy girl, but Boomer explained it was because they both liked music. Butch didn’t get paid enough to care, so he let it happen.
Upon reading the book thrice, he began to wonder if his nice white dress was something Amy would like to wear.
In fact, he kept thinking about Amy and her yellow curls and blue ribbons and pretty dresses. She was taking up too much space in his mind.
He was not attracted to her—he simply enjoyed her character.
As he laid on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, a thought came to him.
Why stop at dresses?
One day Brick returned home to find Boomer in a dress and wig.
“I’m ba—JESUS CHRIST!” He flinched. It was unbecoming of him to let a stranger in his house frighten him so, but he wasn’t exactly expecting anybody to actually sneak into Mojo Jojo’s observatory.
”嗨，比比。”
Brick squinted. “Boomer?”
“Yep!”
After that, Boomer started dressing as Amy. He even ended up roping Butch into it.
“BRICK, CHECK THIS OUT! ME AND BOOMER ARE INTO TRANSVESTITISM NOW!”
“That’s not—ugh!”
Boomer wore different colored wigs, but he usually preferred blonde ones, since he himself was blonde. They always had bangs—either straightened or curled—and that he usually wore a ribbon in.
It helped a lot that he had more of an androgynous appearance with his voice and the general shape of his body.
Butch had been going through an insane Michael Jackson obsession. Everything was about Michael Jackson.
“We gotta sing this Jackson 5 song.” Butch begged Brick on his knees.
“We’d be..the Butterfly 5?” Boomer tilted his head to the side.
“That’s bitchin’, Amy.”
“It would be the Butterfly 4.” Said Brick.
“No it wouldn’t!”
“Yes, it would. Elleon’s still one person.”
Somehow everything had to do with Michael Jackson. Even Boomer’s voice.
“Not really the kind you’d normally expect from a guy, but doesn’t really sound like a girl’s either. Like…” he breathed. “Michael Jackson’s.”
“Um, okay?”
As he got older, Boomer began to take an interest in girls—one in particular who had pretty blue eyes and long blonde pigtails tied with ribbons. And it just so happened that this girl also had an interest in him, which was a win for both of them.
This girl had smaller breasts and wasn’t very curvy, but Boomer didn’t mind. He liked her that way.
The girl was aware of how he dressed, and she had no qualms regarding it. Underneath all those nice wigs and dresses, he was still her boyfriend Boomer Butterfly. No—even wearing all the wigs and dresses he was still Boomer Butterfly.
“Hey.” Brat nudged him.
Boomer hummed. “What is it?”
“Can you dress up as me?”
There was a pause.
“Okay.”
They didn’t do it often. Boomer didn’t like wearing fake breasts. They did, however, frequently dress in matching outfits.
One day Brat asked to borrow some of Boomer’s clothes. He shrugged and told her ‘okay.’
Brat liked Boomer’s clothes. She liked wearing them, too. So she also began to partake in dressing up with him—not for him, but because of him.
Butch said they were Amy and Laurie. Brat liked how that sounded. So did Boomer.
All this to say, it was never anything more than a young boy wanting to wear a black skirt, and then girl wanting to wear clothes that appealed to her despite being meant for the opposite sex.