The greens.

Vengeance.

"Butch," Buttercup exclaimed with a slight breathlessness, tinge of a tired crack in her voice. She lightly griped his arm, his head curved to face her, and raised a brow. "Can you do my patrols for a few weeks? I'm just getting really tired these last few months and I just-"

Buttercup broke off as Butch grabbed her hand, moss eyes darkening at the cuts and bruises lacerated upon her arm. Letting out an irritated and angry grunt, he bought her over to their first aid kit and set to promptly work on. She silently winced and watched as he dabbed antiseptic carefully onto her skin.

Then he spoke with disappointment.

"Buttercup, how many times do I have to tell you that this  city's gonna kill you one day. You sacrifice too much for these ungrateful brats. One day it's gonna cost you something."

Her eyes widened before narrowing slightly, "You forget this is my job. It's not a choice. Their lives are in risk."

"So is yours," Butch bit harshly while gently weaving the bandage over her arm. "You get hurt all the time. Severely may I add."

"Err yeah! that's the outcome of saving the city."

His fist balled at his sides as he sighed again, eyes flickering off hers. "That's not a very good job if it's killing you slowly everyday." Butch glanced up at Buttercup's tired and irritated face, wondering when the last time was since she got a good rest and a break, every night she just topples the moment the enters the apartment. Even her vibrant viridescent eyes were faltering, slight craters of darkness forming under them.

She yanked her wrists out of his hands and promptly glared at him, "Will you do my patrols or not." Buttercup demanded.

"No."

Butch noticed the slight disappointment flaring up in her eyes, almost as if she was hoping he'd say yes.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she dryly laughed. "Why'd I expect you to help, you'd never even do such a thing for the city."

"That's bull. You know I help you occasionally with monster fighting. But patrols, no. The police are just being lazy, and while they're sleeping, they're just pining their dirty work down upon you!"

"No they're not!" Buttercup cried, grasping his shirt collar momentarily, "They need me to protect them."

Butch grabbed her face gently, wrapping his calloused hands around the softness of her face, then he firmly spoke. "No, they don't always need you cup'," His thumb slowly traced over her eye bags and precious skin that he plastered kisses to, "Baby, they're draining every living fibre out of you, let go. Show them that you have certain boundaries and that their stupid paparazzi isn't showing the bare minimum respect you deserve." Butch momentarily froze thinking he saw water glimmering in her eyes, but he was quickly flung to the wall, an angry Buttercup stood clutching her fists with her head down.

"Fine.." She seethed, "Be like that, but I'm not gonna let them be in risk. This is my home Butch. I have to protect it."

"Ok fine! I get that but you need rest too! god, you've been insanely tired lately, it wouldn't hurt to take a bre-"

The hotline rang and Buttercup immediately shot out, her lime streak trailing behind her.

Butch hated that telephone so much.

Just then the door rang, groaning, he heavily trudged over there with his chest aching again. Sure, him and Buttercup fought a lot, but this wasn't it anymore. They were adults, 24 nearly turning 25 yet they still didn't have the privacy and freedom to do normal generic things, to have a normal routine. Opening the door, Bubbles daintily stood there, holding a bag full of food in one arm and the other gripping her hotline telephone.