#laundry is so well-behaved so easy so devoid of hurt

[parlerenfleurs]

Everyone picking making the bed on that poll baffles me, tucking the fucking gottdamn what's-it-called sheet on the four corners of an even slightly unwieldy mattress is a nightmare only multiplied by it being placed in a corner, and don't get me started on getting a double size duvet to fall into place perfectly in the what's-it-called duvet sheet.

That said if you have a light mattress and a reasonably-placed single bed then good for you

[renaerys]

21. “Just a boy.” (Boomer & Professor Utonium)

{{Original posting unfortunately deleted. Reposted here.}}

February Fic Prompt #21 originally requested by my indomitable beta, lordmordor. We both have a soft spot for Boomer. <3

Summary: Boomer asks the Professor for help with his science homework.

xxx

Professor Utonium could not remember the last time he’d taken a proper vacation entirely for himself. But with Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup away camping for the three-day weekend with their Girl Scout troop, the Professor had rearranged his schedule at the Townsville University Research Lab such that for the next three days, he had no work to do. Nothing due, no papers to edit, not even a single meeting with his Ph.D. students. For the next three days, he was off the grid and living that bachelor lifestyle.

After a morning run and shower, he retrieved the Saturday morning paper from the porch, ready to relax with a cup of black coffee and enjoy the rare peace and quiet of the house devoid of his exuberant, 12-year-old Super daughters. Perhaps he’d make pancakes! Oh, he hadn’t had a proper flapjack in ages…

He was not even halfway through his cup of coffee when the doorbell rang. Frowning, the Professor set aside his paper and stepped into his slippers to answer the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone as far as he could recall. Briefly pausing to check his reflection in the decorative mirror in the foyer—his salt-and-pepper hair was a bit damp from his earlier shower, and his white T-shirt and sweatpants were well-worn but clean—he opened the front door.

Two large, blue eyes stared up at him through unkempt, blond bangs. Like a deer caught in the headlights, the kid didn’t speak.

“Uh, hello? Can I help you?” The Professor peered down at the kid, trying to place him. There was something familiar about him; perhaps he was a friend from the Girls’ school?

“I-I, uh…” The kid shifted his weight awkwardly. He wore an overstuffed backpack and gripped the shoulder straps so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Yes? Are you here to see my girls? You just missed them. They’re away for the weekend.”

That seemed to spook the kid, and he flinched. “No! I mean, um, I knew they were leavin’, so I waited until they were gone to…”

The Professor frowned. Something about this boy was very familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Listen, I don’t know what this is about—”

“I need your help!” the kid blurted out.

Those big, blue eyes rose to meet him. Literally, rose off the ground with the kid until he was eye-level with the Professor. Recognition hit him like lightning. “Wait, I know you. You’re one of those Rowdyruff Boys who give my girls so much trouble. Bomber or something—”

“It’s Boomer, and I’m not here to cause trouble, I swear! I just need your help—”

The Professor tried to close the door, but Boomer stopped it with his Super strength easily, and he stumbled back a little, stunned. Oh god, how could he have been so careless? With the Girls gone for the weekend, he was easy pickings for their enemies! How could he have overlooked something so obvious?

Boomer had opened up his backpack, probably reaching for a weapon.

“You stay back,” the Professor warned, scrambling back through the foyer.

Boomer found what he was looking for and held it up. To the Professor’s horror, there were tears in his eyes. “Please, I swear it won’t take long!”

The Professor froze and stared, bewildered by the tears and the copy of Introduction to Physical Science clutched in Boomer’s grubby fingers. It was the same edition Bubbles and Buttercup had for their seventh grade science class. He had no words.

Boomer sniffled. “Please,” he said again, his voice cracking. “I dunno who else to ask.”

The Professor swallowed hard and tried his best to compose himself. “You want me to help you with your science homework?”

Boomer hugged the book to his chest and slowly floated back to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow,” the Professor said. Why on earth would a delinquent care about science homework? “Isn’t Mojo Jojo your caretaker—”

Blue energy flared around Boomer and rattled the shoe rack in the foyer. “I can’t ask him,” he said, desperate.

“O-Okay, just calm down.” The Professor showed him his empty palms and took a step closer. His lab and the Antidote X he kept in case of emergencies were too far away; he would have to try to reason with Boomer before he did something dangerous. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“I can’t ask Mojo, okay?” Boomer cried.

“Yes, of course, I understand. I take it back.” The Professor cautiously reached for the textbook Boomer clutched to him like a talisman. “Why don’t you let me take a look, all right?”

Boomer, still teary-eyed and upset, nonetheless calmed down enough that the furniture no longer shook. Slowly, carefully, the Professor managed to gently pry the textbook from his hands.

“You know, I went to graduate school with one of the authors,” the Professor said in the hopes that conversation might mitigate the tension. “Sir Ebrum. Did you know he was knighted by the Queen of England? Pretty neat, huh?”

Boomer frowned in confusion. “Like in those fairytales?”

“Oh, it’s no fairytale. Lots of people are knighted nowadays if they’ve accomplished something important.”

That seemed to interest him. “…I didn’t know that.”

The Professor considered him. Boomer had a history of antagonizing his daughters. A menace to society, some might say. He briefly took in Boomer’s appearance—a laundry-faded, blue T-shirt, cargo pants with the hem on one leg fraying, scuffed sneakers, even his hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed this morning. There was dirt under his fingernails, and despite possessing the strength to literally break the Professor in half, he looked nervous. Like the Professor was the one with all the power, not him.

“You can learn new things every day,” the Professor said, his tone gentle. “All you have to do is study.”

Boomer opened his mouth to respond, thought better of it, and shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I mean I’m not—” Boomer cut himself off and crossed his skinny arms. He looked at his feet like they offended him deeply, but there was a deep, jaded melancholy in his eyes that had no business settling there. “I’m no good at it.”

The Professor’s shoulders fell as he listened to the words unspoken. Here was a boy who caused trouble and had the potential to inflict unspeakable harm. A boy who he knew for a fact had hurt his Bubbles and created problems for the city with the wanton use of his powers. A boy who was messing up the only vacation he’d had to himself in so, so long. A boy who had come to a place he knew he would be most unwelcome because it was somehow better than going to the person who was supposed to look out for him.

Just…a boy.

The Professor laid a tentative hand on Boomer’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Well, whoever told you that could not be more wrong.”

Boomer looked at him wide-eyed, like the very notion went against everything he’d ever been taught to believe. “How do you know?”

“Because those who ask for help when they’re struggling will always do better than those who give up without ever trying.” He smiled reassuringly. “Listen, I was going to make pancakes for breakfast. Why don’t you come in and eat, and then you can tell me about the homework problems you’re having trouble with?”

Boomer gaped at him like a fish. “Pancakes?”

“With bananas and cinnamon. I’m supposed to be on a diet, but with my girls gone for the weekend, I get to cheat just a little.”

Boomer smiled warily. “Yeah, okay. Sounds dope.”

The Professor stepped aside to let him in and closed the front door. He paused, his hand on the knob, and wondered if this was actually a very bad idea. The textbook was heavy in his hand, the cover shabby and frayed around the edges, likely a loaner passed down over the years to kids who couldn’t afford to buy their own copies.

He followed Boomer into the kitchen, watching as he took in the modern, sleek decor but kept his hands tightly jammed in his pockets. “Why don’t you take a seat? The pancakes won’t take long.”

Boomer was quiet as he did the Professor’s bidding and sat down. He was surprisingly well-behaved as he observed the Professor’s every move—gathering ingredients, mixing the batter, timing the flips for each pancake—each action carefully logged, no matter how mundane.

So much like Bubbles.

That was interesting. He knew Mojo had created the Boys as counterparts to the Girls, but he’d never given much thought to it beyond the superficial similarities. Unlike Bubbles, however, Boomer was not comfortable expressing his feelings. Maybe he’d never had someone willing to listen. The Professor sighed softly. This was not how he’d wanted to spend his Saturday.

And yet.

“All done. I hope you’re hungry.”

Boomer ate like he’d never tasted food before. The Professor plied him with seconds and syrup, and for a good few minutes they both chowed down in comfortable silence. Boomer held his fork and knife in his fists as he stabbed his pancakes. The Professor said nothing as he cut his own food the way he’d been taught by his parents growing up: cut in front of the fork, switch hands, always eat with your right hand. Old, unnecessary habits inherited from his British parents who never let go of their roots even when they emigrated. Boomer had paused his own eating to watch the Professor a moment. He did his best to ignore the blue eyes watching his every move, not wanting to upset or embarrass the boy.

When Boomer began mimicking his table manners, the Professor bit his lip hard so as not to smile.

“Boomer, can I ask you something?”

Boomer shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

“Why do you dislike my girls so much?”

“I don’t.”

That was not the answer the Professor had been expecting. “You don’t?”

Boomer shook his head.

“Then… Then why do you and your brothers, ah…”

Boomer shrugged. “Somethin’ to do, I guess.”

Something to do, you guess.

He must have read something in the Professor’s expression. “They don’t like me, so I, um… I just stay outta their way.” He stared at his empty plate. “I heard they wouldn’t be around this weekend, so…”

The Professor was not sure what to make of him. Here was a boy with more power in his little finger than he had in his entire body, under the tutelage of a diabolical Super villain hell-bent on the destruction of everything good and pure in the world, literally created to sow chaos and destruction, and yet he was so…so…

“I’m not bad,” Boomer said. “I won’t wreck your stuff or whatever.”

So young.

“I didn’t think you would,” the Professor said.

Boomer wrung his hands and kept his eyes down, as though ashamed. And that…

That would not do.

The Professor got up and stacked their empty plates. “Have you ever done the dishes before?”

Boomer looked up, alarmed. He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Great. There’s a dish towel hanging on the oven. I’ll wash, you dry.”

They did the dishes in silence, until Boomer broke it.

“Why’re you bein’ so nice to me?”

The Professor looked down at him, but Boomer was concentrating on drying the spatula the Professor had used to flip the flapjacks.

“I suppose because you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

“Yeah, but I’m…”

The Professor took the spatula from him and returned it to its proper drawer. “We learn new things every day,” he said gently. “Even at my age.”

Boomer’s smile was as surprising as it was heartwarming, and the Professor couldn’t help but return it.

“Come on, why don’t you show me the problems you’re working on?”

Boomer opened up his textbook, and for the next couple hours, they slowly worked through the homework together.

xxx

When Bubbles and her sisters arrived home after their super fun camping weekend, they were so excited to see the Professor.

“I missed you so much!” Bubbles gushed, launching herself at her father.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”

“Hey Professor, how was your weekend?” Blossom asked politely.

“Yeah, did you go on a hot date?” Buttercup asked.

Bubbles giggled. “Professor!”

“No, girls, nothing like that,” the Professor said.

“I hope you weren’t lonely while we were gone?” Bubbles asked. Her big, blue eyes studied him, observed his every reaction.

“Not at all,” he said, smiling for her. “I had plenty to do to keep me busy, don’t you worry.”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “Yeah, lotsa science experiments I bet.”

“Oh, something like that.”

“Did you learn anything new?” Blossom asked.

The Professor looked between his three special little girls, each of them watching him eagerly, their smiles full of love and devotion. “Why yes, Blossom. I certainly did.”