Title(s): One Day...
Pairing: RrB/PpG
Rating: PG
Parts: Three of Three
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine nor has been, ever.
Summary: A day in the life of... um. Well.
Notes: Throwing a bunch of old stuff from the past couple of years on . For JojoDancer's, dee lirious', and TheNotebookUndertheBed's birthdays, back in 2008. Un-beta'd.

One Day

One Day, Buttercup Fancies Herself a Pirate.

Lunch was just getting started at Townsville High when the doors were suddenly blown open, and a far more decorated Buttercup—clad from head to foot in full-garbed pirate regalia—brandished a fierce looking sword. Bubbles was bound and gagged at her side, while Blossom looked tired and irritated.

"Ahoy!" Buttercup shouted gleefully, as the cafeteria settled into a dumbfounded stupor.

Butch spit out his food into Boomer's hair and started cackling.

"A fine mess of landlubbers we 'ave 'ere today," Buttercup considered, sashaying into the otherwise catatonic room. "You!" she barked suddenly, directing her sword at the lunchlady behind the counter. "A spot of grog for me an' me first mate."

"I am NOT your first mate," Blossom sighed.

"You're not a first anything!" Brick shouted, because he had to contradict everything Blossom said.

"Was I talking to you?!" Blossom shouted back.

"Buttercup, I'm pretty sure you're too young to be having 'grog,'" the lunchlady said in a bored tone.

"Yo ho ho! No lily-livered lass, this! Refusin' the service of us gentlemen of fortune—"

"Last I checked, you were a chick!" Butch barked from across the lunchroom, and Pirate Buttercup swiveled round, narrowing her eyes.

With a flying leap and a streak of green, she shot into the air and landed on the table, snapping it in half and sending students flying.

She stooped in her fabulous knee high pirate boots and peered at Butch from underneath the brim of her fabulous pirate hat. "Shiver me timbers," she said in a dark voice, "we 'ave 'ere a fine scallywag on our 'ands."

Butch found it hard to stifle another laugh.

As he laughed hysterically, Buttercup straightened and darted a look at Blossom. "Arr, matey!" she called out. "What say ye to—"

"Buttercup!" A very pissed off Principal was stalking towards her, his eyes livid. "What on Earth do you think you're doing!"

She shouldered her sword and haughtily tossed up her head. "Why, I be piratin', me good sir. As any respectful buccaneer ought to—"

"You are not a pirate! I will not tolerate this nonsense in my school!"

"I've got a note," she said abruptly, tucking the tip of her sword into her jacket and producing a thin sheet of paper at the end of it.

The Principal took it and examined it.

Dear Principal,

Please excuse Buttercup today. She thinks she is a pirate.


Professor Utonium

The Principal stared at it. Buttercup resumed pirating.

"As I was sayin'! First mate! What say ye to addin' this scurvy dog to our fine crew?"

Butch stopped laughing and gawked. Blossom was busy exchanging insults with Brick.

Buttercup tapped her foot. "First mate!"

Blossom was shouting herself blue at Brick and paid her sister no mind.

"Ver' well! To Davy Jones with ye!" she bellowed, then turned to Butch. "Well then! It appears we 'ave an opening for first mate!"

"I'm not gonna be your first mate!" Butch scoffed. He nodded at Boomer. "Ask that guy."

She turned to Boomer, who had just gotten the last of the food scraps out of his hair. "Arr, me hearty. Care to spare 'im for me crew?"

"That wasn't what I meant!" Butch cried.

Boomer considered. "It'll cost you."

Buttercup beckoned at Bubbles, who rolled her eyes, but dutifully came running.

"A fine lass for a fine shipmate," Buttercup said, pushing Bubbles towards Boomer.

"Done," he said with conviction, and tossed Butch into her arms. "Best booty ever!" he said gleefully as he swept Bubbles off her feet and shot out of the cafeteria.

"You traitor!" Butch called out after him as Buttercup chained him to his seat. He looked at her. "I can break these, you know."

"Ye'll not be wantin' to, mark me words," she said pointedly, then sat herself next to him. "Now then! As yer nothin' more than a sprog, I've some words o' wisdom to be dispensin' to ye."

"'Sprog?'" Butch furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Firs' rule! Listen to yer cap'n. That'd be me."

Butch rolled his eyes and broke the chain.

Buttercup instantly produced another and chained him again.

"What the—"

"Second rule!" she interrupted. "No mutiny! Or I'll turn the cat o' nine tails on ye, I will."

Butch paused mid-break and lifted his head. "You've got a whip?" he said, interested.

"Third rule!" she barked. "No wenchin' about for ye!" She indicated the scattered girls still attempting to eat their lunch in peace.

He looked a bit put out. "No wenching? What for?"

She pushed her hat back and leaned in close, her eyes deep and intent. He blinked, taken aback at the austerity of her gaze.

"Because," she said, her voice deep and husky and suggesting something very dark and threatening, "yer captain's the only lass ye'll be needin' to attend to from 'ere on."

She sat back. Butch stared.

"Arr," she said, tipping her hat back into place and doing a very bad job of hiding a smirk. "Captain's orders."