Title(s): Black Lace And Arsenic, In That Order
Pairing: Mostly Greens friendshippy(?) fic, with touches of Red and Blue.
Rating: PG-13 for mild cursing and lacy underthings.
Parts: One-shot
Disclaimer: Please don't get mad at me for making your characters do crazy shit like this, Mr. McCracken.
Summary: Butch and Buttercup go lingerie shopping. Yeah, really.
Notes: Belated birthday fic for Jupitrie, who draws and is awesome. Un-beta'd.

Black Lace And Arsenic, In That Order


Butch stared unblinking at the flourish of cursive letters dancing above the store that housed almost everything his dreams were made of.

"Buttercup," he said, after swallowing the drool that had pooled under his tongue, "I love you."

"Stuff it and then move it," she hissed, dragging him into Heaven. A little fainting sigh escaped his lips. "I didn't bring you along for your sake. We're on a mission here." She paused at a headless mannequin donning a sheer bra and scowled. Why did they insist on putting nipples on these things?

"Chemises and garters and thigh-highs, oh fucking my," Butch gurgled, his expression beginning to take on a more predatory shade. Buttercup sympathized with the lingerie store patrons who furtively edged away to give them a wider berth.

"Focus," she snarled. "Horrifyingly embarrassing gag gift for Blossom's eighteenth, remember?" She realized it was the wrong thing to say the instant his eyes glazed over and cursed herself under her breath.

Butch moved in a daze towards the corsets, then paused, his attention caught by the camisoles. It looked to Buttercup like his brain had shorted out completely by the time he turned to the teddies.

Now he was starting to creep out the employees. One of them began to move towards him and Buttercup, and she moved up to snatch him by the arm and plastered an apologetic smile on her face.

"It's all right! We're just gift shopping! Don't need any help!" She laughed nervously, then growled at Butch, "Come on, work with me. You know this stuff inside and out—that wasn't a pun, you idiot."

Butch stopped snickering and shook himself out, blinking.

"Okay, okay. Embarrassing." He looked around. "Should we go with trashy or classy?"

Buttercup glanced at the rack of crotchless leather panties next to her.

"I'm sorry, do you see anything that resembles classy in this store? Even remotely?"

"Actually, classy's brilliant," he said, his eyes lighting up. "Because then she might actually like it, and be all horrified with herself in addition to being horrified in general—"

"I repeat—where, exactly, are we going to find this classy thing you are talking about?" Buttercup asked, plucking a hanger of hot pink fringed something off the rack and waggling it at him.

Butch stared at it for a second before giving her a look.

"Buttercup, you got weird taste," he said, and turned to the wall of corsets that had first arrested his attention. She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"What do you think of transparent?" he asked her. She crossed her arms in thought.

"Maybe pushing it. I'm pretty sure she'd never put herself in a transparent anything."

"Maybe not the bra, but around the tummy?" Butch pointed at the one he was looking at, and Buttercup studied it for awhile.

"Maybe. I'm thinking frills are definitely a no, though."

"She's never struck me as the frilly sort," he agreed.

"And simple colors, nothing crazy like hot pink or whatever they're calling this... fire engine red thing over here," she added. "Black or white is better."

"Black's dirty, white's virginal," Butch pointed out. "We want white for her."

"That limits your options if you still want transparent, I think," Buttercup said, running her eyes over the expanse of wall displays.

"No, it's just harder to see when it's not against skin. See? That one there? Solid on the cups and going down the middle, but transparent white mesh along the sides and back."

"It's got frills," she said, wrinkling her face.

"Not that bad on the frill front." Butch darted under it and pointed. "Nothing crazy, at least. Just a bit at the edges. And it's got garter straps, too!"

Buttercup guessed from the sparkle in Butch's eye that he had a real thing for garters.

"So she can wear thigh-highs with it!" he exclaimed, near tears. Obviously he got his rocks off to thigh-highs, too.

"Have you made your selection?" someone just over her shoulder said, and Buttercup jumped.

"Jesus! Where did you come from?!" she gasped at the employee.

"This one, this one!" Butch jumped up and down and pointed at the one he wanted. Suddenly he paused, his eyes widening in horror, and he started to flail. "No! Wait wait wait, no! We can't go with white!"

"Butch, we already picked!" Buttercup snapped.

"No, no, we can't do white! White against Blossom's naturally pale, creamy, supple skin, it'll never work!"

"What does 'supple' have to do with color?" she asked dryly.

"We need black!"

The employee, a little taken aback by Butch's enthusiasm, said, "Well, we do have that piece you're talking about in black..."

Two sets of green eyes blinked at each other.

"Oh. Awesome."

"What are her measurements?"

"Thirty-six twenty-four thirty-six," Butch responded automatically.

"Wait, that can't be right," Buttercup said, looking down at herself. The employee, meanwhile, took Butch in for a second.

"Sir, those... I believe those are the measurements for the ideal woman."

"And trust me, she is the ideal woman," he assured her. "B-cups, by the way."

"No, Butch, you're wrong," Buttercup said. "Blossom and I are the same down here, and there's no way she's twenty-four thirty-six."

"Oh, well, what are your measurements, then?" the employee asked her. Buttercup's face went blank.

"Um... I don't know?"


"Butch, if you make a single sound, one single sound—" Buttercup warned from inside the dressing room—

"Sorry Buttercup, I can't hear you over the sounds of my quiet snickering out here," he said, and resumed his quiet snickering.

"You don't have to take any clothes off," the attendant assured her. "Lift your arms."

"Oh, no, I know my, you know... bra measurements—"


"Butch, I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"Should I go ask him to leave the store?" the attendant asked, removing her finger from her ear.

"No, it's fine," Buttercup grumbled.

"You probably want to unbutton your jeans so we can get the hip measurements..."

Buttercup complied with no small amount of reluctance and blushing. Man, the lengths she would go to to embarrass Blossom... The attendant finished with her waist and hip measurements, ticking the measuring tape.

"Okay, see? Here. These are your measurements. I'll have them get the right garment for you."

"Thanks for not saying them out loud," Buttercup mumbled as she buttoned up her jeans.

"Oh, wait, what bust size should I tell them?"

Buttercup thought back to the numbers she saw whenever she did the laundry. Not that she, you know, was comparing herself to her sisters or anything... she needn't bother; she had the bigger cup size, anyway...

"Thirty-four B."

The attendant scurried off, and Buttercup made her way back out into the main part of the store.

"They're grabbing one for us," she explained to Butch, then, upon spotting the sinister look on his face that always preceded an especially dirty joke, she knocked him out cold.

"All right, let me just ring... this... up..." The employee who came out to the register, gift box in hand, trailed off as Buttercup dragged Butch's unconscious form to the front.

His body thumped heavily against the floor as she dropped him, and she blew her hair out of her face as she folded her hands and smile winsomely at the cashier.

"Thank you."


"Robin!" Bubbles squealed and laughed as she dangled the inscribed pendant her friend had given her. "'Real women have fun!' I love it!"

Blossom smiled and read off her matching pendant, "'Real women read books.'"

"'Real women kick ass.' Amen, sister." Buttercup, despite her dislike of jewelry, fastened the chain around her neck. "Nicely done, Robin."

Their friend shrugged at the other end of the table. "Not quite big girl jewelry, but I figured it'd be a nice start for you guys."

The girls laughed with the rest of their friends, a lucky party of thirteen in a busy restaurant, minus Butch and Boomer. They had just gone out to retrieve their presents. Among that stack was the anonymous gift addressed to Blossom, and Buttercup fidgeted anxiously in her seat, eager to see the look on Blossom's face when she lifted the tissue paper away to reveal a lacy black corset...

Blossom's phone suddenly buzzed, and she glanced at the screen, her smile fading. She excused herself from the table, and as soon as she was out of sight Buttercup did the same.

She dashed out to the doors, wondering what was taking Butch so long, and caught sight of Blossom engaged in heated conversation with Brick in the dark hall leading to the kitchens... strangely, he hadn't been present at the party—

The doors flew open, and Butch appeared carrying a single present, adorned with a gigantic bow and Blossom's name scrawled in elaborate cursive on the gift tag.

"Took you long enough," Buttercup muttered, glancing back at where she'd seen her sister and Brick. They'd disappeared.

"Butch!" Boomer's voice echoed behind him, and Buttercup glimpsed the blond behind his brother, wobbling in the parking lot with the most awkwardly piled tower of gifts she'd yet seen. "Are you going to help me with these or not?!"

"Did you hear something?" Butch asked thoughtfully, then floated back to the party. "Someone cut me another slice of cake!"

Buttercup took the gift from him and placed it at Blossom's setting, edging her already-opened gifts out of the way.

"Ooh, that's a nice-looking box," Mike said, giving a low whistle. "Who's it from?"

"Doesn't say," Buttercup said, her tone nonchalant. She took a moment to point out the J Bass nestled carefully next to her seat, then eyed the group that had given it to her: Mitch, the twins, and Harry. "You guys, by the way? Freaking rock." They held up their hands in mock sheepishness.

"I picked it out!" Elmer reminded her desperately, waving his arms to catch Buttercup's attention. She sighed inwardly, but granted him a little fist bump. She ignored his delighted squeal at their slight skin contact and took her seat.

"Oh, wow, Boomer..." Bubbles paused as she took in the stack of gifts Boomer had placed in front of her. "You sure... got me a lot of presents..."

"Happy Birthday," he panted.

Mary leaned over to Bubbles and muttered, "You oughtta just throw that guy a bone and give him a date already."

"'Date?!' Did you say I could have a 'date?'" he said hopefully.

"Cake," Bubbles corrected, urging another slice into his hands. "You can have a slice of cake."

As Boomer took his seat, petulantly consuming his cake, Blossom re-appeared, looking a little tousled and red in the face.

"Where've you been?" Buttercup said flatly as their leader took her seat in the middle.

"Sorry," Blossom breathed, patting her hair into place and rubbing at her bruised lip. "Makeup issues." Bubbles reached over to stick her sister's tag back into her shirt. "Oh, wow! This is a such a pretty box... doesn't say who it's from..."

As the rest of the table urged her to open it, Buttercup shifted in her seat, trying to subdue her anticipatory grin as Blossom gently shook the box.

"Oh, Buttercup, there's one here for you!"

She snapped to. "What?"

Bubbles was holding a flat box out to her over Blossom's head. "In my stack. Must've got mixed up. It's from Butch."

Buttercup blinked and glanced at her friend. "Butch?"

He raised his glass. "Word had it there was a birthday bitch around here."

Blossom frowned at him, but Buttercup grinned.

"I'll open it in a sec—"

"Open it now!" he exclaimed.

She gave him a look and darted a significant glance towards Blossom, who was already undoing the bow. Butch mouthed Trust me at her, and indicated his present.

"Fine," she sighed, and tore into the paper, most of her attention on Blossom. Her sister was lifting off the lid and delving her hands into the mass of tissue paper...

Blossom's brow furrowed. "What's this?"

Buttercup bit her grin back and shook out Butch's present onto the table. She froze.

Her red-headed sister flipped through the book in her hands. "The Girl's Guide to Absolutely Everything... Oh, here's a card... from Buttercup? That's... uncharacteristically thoughtful of you, Buttercup!" She turned to her sister and beamed. "Thank you—oh my God what is that?!"

The entire table stared at Buttercup, equally stunned, as she gaped at the lacy, partly transparent, mildly frilled black corset, complete with garter straps and thigh-highs.

"Oh, how cute!" Bubbles exclaimed, earning herself an agonized look from Boomer.

Buttercup's friends were already out of their seats, citing a sudden, urgent need to visit the restroom in unison. Then, because Mitch was a kind soul at heart, he grabbed a catatonic Elmer and dragged him along.

Butch was consuming another slice of cake and waved his fork around lazily. "I had to trade the first one in for a C-cup—you're a C, right?—so go try it on and we'll see if it fits—"

Buttercup crushed the lingerie in her hands and flung it out of the way as she dove for Butch across the table, snarling.

"Agh! Get it off! Ew ew ew!" Blossom flailed frantically, then clawed at the corset that Buttercup had flung into her face. "What self-respecting woman would ever want to wear this stupid..."

She pulled it away and paused, taking it in.

"... Thing..."

The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood and shocked restaurant patrons filled the restaurant, peppered occasionally by Buttercup's furious vocalizing and Butch's side-splitting laughter. Mojo Jojo, who had reserved an off-night from Evil Doing, weighed his options, then took advantage of the commotion to grab the register and fled, cackling.

Bubbles set her gifts from Boomer aside, assuring him she'd open them as soon as she got home, then flagged down a waiter, ducking as Buttercup snatched a bottle of wine from the rack behind her and smashed it against Butch's head. She smiled brightly.

"I think we're ready for the check."