(no subject)
Title: Role Reversal
Rating: K+
Summary: It’s Bubbles who pines for Boomer, who’s half scared and half screwed.
Notes: Happy March!
ETA: I typed this probably during March 2nd but finals week caught up to me and I wasn't able to submit it. Supposedly my entry for the March contest for ppg_hub_drabble, but oh well. Enjoy!
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“What if I got shot?” Boomer swivelled his to give Bubbles a look. The hustle and bustle of lunch hour surrounded their table.
“What?” She shrugged. “Yeah. What if I got shot, Boomer? Would you live a lifetime of regret of not saying yes when I asked you out?”
Boomer frowned. “Bubbles, geez, I’m just asking you to wait after Battle of the Bands-”
“Anything can happen in two weeks,” interjected Bubbles, staring innocently at the watch on her left wrist. Boomer glared at it.
“Look, Bubbles, you’re really cute and all-”
“I get shot, Boomer. Shot. What are you going to do?” she gave him a pointed look which he met with a blank stare.
“Bubbles, you're bulletproof."
"The bullets had Chemical X."
"Bubbles, come on." She ignored him.
“Like the one in Les Mis-that was a cool moment, between Marius and Cosette. Imagine that?” Bubbles was grinning now, and Boomer’s brow looked as if it were in a permanent wrinkle.
“Please don’t sing-”
“Don’t you fret, Monsieur Boomer / I don’t feel any pain,” she sang, and Boomer groaned. Really? Was this really happening to him? “A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now.”
“Holy shit, Bubbles,” he breathed, and Bubbles beamed.
“Good, right?” Boomer lost count of the times that he groaned in the last five minutes.
“That’s not what I meant-”
“You’re here, that’s all I need to know,” she continued to sing, and Boomer buried his head in his hands when people started stealing glances at their table. “And you will keep me safe, and you will keep me close, and rain will make the flowers grow.”
People around them started openly staring and he wanted nothing more than to eye beam them into dust.
“Come on,” Bubbles urged, “Sing the next part!”
“No,” Boomer said a little too desperately, but Bubbles ignored it.
“But you will live, dear God above!” she went on, and Boomer tried to sneak a peek at her watch. The lunch bell would come any minute now. “Come on, Boomer! Sing it!”
“I-can’t,” he tried, “I don’t… know the lyrics?” Bullshit, of course. He’s been singing every single song from the film for three weeks straight after he watched. His favorite was I Dreamed A Dream.
He shrunk at her positively vicious glare. She probably practiced that…
“Just sing it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Seriously, Boomer? You’re gonna leave a lady waiting?”
“No! I just-” Shit. Shit. People were whispering now.
“Look, Bubbles, you’re really nice-” She made a face.
“Do you want me to tell you the lyrics?” Boomer started gaping like a fish out of water and almost choked from relief when the lunch bell rang.
“Sorrygottagobye!” he said in one breath and bolted for the cafeteria doors, running the opposite way from his class. Bubbles sighed.
“It’s ‘if I could heal your wounds with words of love,’ Boomer,” she whispered to herself, standing up and walking to her class, footfalls heavy with silent dejection.