Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Ba-domp, ba-domp, ba-domp.
Sometimes the beat of heart went positively wild when Brick would glance leisurely over his shoulder, and those powerful crimson eyes smirked—yes, they smirked. It became difficult to inhale and exhale like a regular person who was not completely out of her mind, the red heat rushing to Blossom's peach cheeks.
Like now, for instance, when Brick was busy caressing Princess Morebuck's sensitive knees in Chemistry class. By the way the two were chuckling and giggling together like drunk hyenas, they found something particularly funny about their lustful, immature actions. Princess let out a tiny groan of satisfaction, and chewed her bottom lip.
Sitting in the very back row, Blossom shook her head at the display in disgust and confusion. What was the big deal anyway? Brick was only touching her knees; that couldn't possibly arouse anyone, much less be anything to laugh about! But there you have it—Princess was mewing away like a moron while Brick, despite his laughing, was plainly bored. Ew. And yet. . .
A strange, unwanted feeling invaded Blossom's chest.
That's when Brick turned his head back, looked directly at his counterpart, eyes smirking—the whole shebang. Blossom thought she was sizzling under his arrogant gaze, and wanted to melt into a puddle of goo in shame that he could get a rise out of her like that.
"Hey, Powderpuff!" Princess shouted unkindly, curiously following Brick's line of sight. "Maybe you should take a picture. It'll last longer."
Blossom's pink eyes narrowed in a cold glare at both enemies.
Brick and Princess—they deserve each other, she mused sourly. Ugh, why do I even care?
"I could honestly care less about how you two choose to prove your foolishness to the class," Blossom snapped.
The right-hand corner of Brick's mouth raised slightly, his orbs darkening if that was even possible. "You wanna know what your problem is, Blossy?"
"What, your existence?" she replied quickly.
"Well," the red Rowdyruff began, ignoring her, "you're not the prude you pretend to be. Oh, no. I'm sure you would love it if some trailer-trash bad boy slid his hands up your skirt, and-"
"Shut up," Blossom spat before her temper boiled over. The nerve of that toad, ready to suggest that she even thought about. . . such perversions. Gross! "You don't know anything about me."
"Sure," Brick mockingly agreed.
Grudgingly, she refused to say anything back after that, no matter how many times Brick attempted to provoke her.
. . .
. . .
Later in Study Hall, Blossom lazily scribbled on a scrap of paper, when she really should have been doing homework. She sighed, pondering Brick's preposterous accusation. Like any teenage girl, Blossom desired a sense of chivalry in her suitors—opening doors, pulling out chairs, and all those things her sister, Buttercup, detested. But that wasn't all she wanted out of relationship. She had to admit that the physical aspect intrigued her greatly, especially when it came to Brick. If there was anything he did right in his thousands of relationships. . .
You want him, a small voice said matter-of-factly.
Which was ridiculous, obviously. Brick Jojo and her? Together? It didn't make any kind of sense, and probably never would. Besides, that wasn't even how she felt for him.
Brick. . . He was just another stupid guy that wasn't really worth all the trouble of falling in-. . .that one word in which would never escape her lips about him. That boy was nothing but a menace to society, an insect she loathed to the core.
However, she couldn't deny that where he lacked morals and general good behavior, at least he made up for in looks that could put Ryan Reynolds to shame. With those focused, cold fire eyes always knowing and suggestive, that messy head of auburn locks going a million different directions under the red baseball cap twisted backwards, and that half-smirk forever plastered on his mouth.
"Blossy, baby," Brick appeared, his shadow casting over her figure. She continued her doodling. "I missed you, and your other assets. Did you know that the male population of Pokey Oaks is buzzing about your legs? I have to say that I would love it if they were wrapped around me, but not in our usual way."
"Go away, Brick," she said disinterestedly, looking up at him.
He didn't budge, only cocking an eyebrow at her. Slowly—carefully—Brick brushed his fingertips against the nape of her neck. Her skin tingled at the rough sensation of his masterful touch. She couldn't count all the times Brick touched her this way, while she idiotically allowed his fingers to linger. Mainly, he did this in battle to gain the upper-hand, and would place his hands on any exposed part her body—her legs, her upper thighs if her skirt happened to be slipping upward—instead fighting.
"I knew it," Brick murmured, leaning closer to her.
She rolled her eyes. "Leave."
The Rowdyruff smiled his first true smile, and pushed back a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. His lips, a perfectly tanned pink color, were so dangerously close to hers. Blossom wasn't about to go all weak at the knees and gooey over Brick, she was smarter than that (despite the butterfly wings clumsily plucking at her heartstrings).
"I don't think so," she protested, pushing him back.
Brick shook his head, glancing at the paper, and strolled contently away as he whistled a familiar tune: "The Wedding March."
"Wha?" Blossom queried. She gasped and then smacked her forehead upon seeing the paper.
There, in hot pink ink, were the chicken-scratched words, 'Mr. & Mrs. Brick Jojo.'
And a big, red marker heart had been drawn to surround her heart's desire.