#bittersweetbutter

Turbo was at the house again. Which Bitter didn't mind, not really, after all Butter enjoyed him and he was a grade A racer. His odd skin and habits were… tolerable, and he did have some interesting stories. Plus, Sugar Rush racers couldn't really talk - Swizz was practically orange! It was only when the old coot started pushing his habits on Butter that the dark chocolate racer really had any problem with him. Today was one such day. 

Turbo was coming through again on another one of his whirlwind visits, come to soak up all the admiration he felt he deserved. Bitter assumed it was because he had nothing better to do, and for the most part he was right. Turbo didn't have a game anymore to go home to, and there was no telling where he slept considering most games in the arcade had long ago banned him. By all technicality he was banned from Sugar Rush as well, but that didn't stop him from sneaking in every now and then, especially with such adoring fans. 

The veteran took a long thin case out of his jumpsuit flipping it open to show a bed of fresh dried tobacco. He took a small sheet of paper from the back of the case, filling it with some of the precious tobacco as he spoke.

"Now kid, I know you look up to me, but there'th only tho much you can do to be like me. You can walk like me, talk like me, just don't thtart think you are me got it?" He ran his tongue along the edge of the half rolled cigarette and rolled it tightly, tamping it out on the edge of the metal case. He closed it and secreted it away, producing a lighter seemingly out of mid air.

"…try one of them?" Butter said, gesturing to the cigarette hanging from Turbo's lips. The racer took the cigarette from his lips, contemplating his biggest fan's request. He smiled a proud little smile, an expression that made Bitter a little bit wary.

"One of my fagth? Thure kid, why not." He handed the burning thing over to the 12 year old. Butter took it excitedly, sticking it in his mouth. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, expecting smoke to billow from it. Nothing. Turbo held his hand out for his cigarette, but before Butter could take it from his lips Bitter leaned over and took it away. He knew enough from watching Turbo that he had to breath through the cigarette to get the smoke.

"No, Butter, like this." His face still close to his twins he took a long drag of the cigarette, tearing up as the smoke hit his lungs. He expected a burn, but this was like fire, scorching its way through his chest. He breathed the acrid smoke out far away from Butter. He swallowed hard in an attempt to put out the fire in his core. "See?" his voice was still a little hoarse, but he held fast.

Butter took it back, inhaling cautiously and sputtering. He handed the cigarette back to Turbo, covering his coughing fit with his arm. Turbo took it back, busting a gasket laughing at the two kids. He took a long, gloating drag of his cigarette, chuckling a little.

"You like it kid?" Turbo smiled, blowing a smoke ring in their general direction which, of course, blew straight into Bitter's face. Which he did *not* appreciate.

Bitter awoke to the incessant and very annoying sound of a little cupcake servant squeaking at the speed of light. In his half sleep he swatted the thing into the wall and rolled over, refusing to get up. The servant returned, even louder now.

"What. Do. You. Want." he asked. The little cupcake shivered, gulped, and continued more slowly. Butter had left to go to the cupcake orchard and hadn't come back. Bitter rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down and not kill anything. He hated how Butter never shut up when he got rid of annoying things, and he wasn't ready to deal with that nonsense on half a night of sleep.

"And what has that got to do with anything, let alone me? Or did you not see the do not disturb sign?" he asked cooly. The cupcake continued - we have reason to believe that Taffyta has taken him to the abandoned lollipop castle in the cupcake canyon and was holding him prisoner. He knew full well that Butter could take care of himself and that that probably was't the case, but the white-clad racer would have been back by now. He wouldn't leave his subjects for long even if they were talking cupcakes. The taffy bitch was probably wearing a crown.

Bitter heaved a sigh that was a mixture of disgust and resolve, and changed into his racing outfit. On his way out he grabbed Butter's favorite scarf, which he had left at home for once. Bitter told himself he wasn't being nice as he tied it around his neck - he was getting proper protection from the cold on the side of the canyon bordering Ice Cream peaks. 

He grabbed a plastic sword from out of one of the cherries on the way, rubbing off the juice and passing it through his belt loop. He walked through the land with the posture of a king, making his way towards the old castle where, at some point, he had been meant to live. 

He heard the crash of frosting giants crashing through the hard candy world that he was walking through. The large beasts made a slow continuous progress, blocking his path. I have no time for this nonsense. Bitter thought, and simply walked toward the group, cutting through it as if it were branches instead of moving, breathing, candy... things. Most of the large blue beasts didn't follow the brown clad racer, but one frosting beast made forward progress, having lost only an arm to Bitter's impatience. He ignored this beast and kept moving forward towards his goal.

<.*.>

Butter slid into constricting fabric of the surprisingly elegant red and white dress, nearly drowning in red and white lace. He looked up and there she was, Taffyta, in a garish bright pink dress with, ah yes, a silver crown resting in her brow. She smiled maliciously down at at the male racer.

"Good. Now spin for the duchess." she said, making a twirling motion with her finger from her regal looking pink thrown. He spun around, though something in the back of his mind told him that he should not be doing this. He twirled and twirled until Taffyta stopped him, dissolving into a pool of laughter from his complete obedience. 

She heard a loud crash from out of the castle and looked shocked, before smiling sweetly. "Do go see what that is, darling." she said, gesturing to the balcony with a sickeningly sweet smile.

Butter walked outside just in time to see Bitter slay the frosting giant for good. Being out of sight of Taffyta and her crown he came to his senses and shouted down to his double, "Bitter! She's put me in a bloody dress!"

"I can see that ya bloody git, now get down here!" Bitter shouted angrily up at him. He saw the shadow of Taffyta coming onto the balcony.

"I'm afraid he won't be doing that, Bitter. Now do go on back home." she said sweetly, making sure both of them could see her shining crown. Bitter, however, was having none of it. He pulled his plastic weapon from the giant he was standing on and carved his way into the castle, making his way in and finally coming to the room in the top of the tower wear the other two were.

"Wh-why aren't you obeying me?" she said, actual fear marring her falsely sweet face. 

"Crowns don't work on me, sugar." He said menacingly as he approached her, cornering her. "Go, Butter." He said off handedly to his Doppleganger.

Butter did not move though, still under the full sway of the crown. Before Taffyta could use this to her advantage he punched her in the mouth and stole her crown. He placed it on his head and looked directly into Butters vacant stare. 

"Go. Home."

Butter did as he was told, exiting the tower and walking until, out of the influence of the crown, he sprinted home. He didn't want to be anywhere near what Bitter was going to do to Taffyta. He knew it was untruly ungentlemanly, but she had put him in this dress. He frankly didn't care what happened to her.

<.*.>

Bitter kicked the pink clad girl one more time, causing her to wince. That was enough for him, now, and so he crouched down to the grown. 

 Butter slunk back home after his race, gingerly carrying the arm he had landed on just wrong when his cart crashed. He was fairly sure that it was broken, but he refused to cry. Nosirree, he was going to be tough, and stand tall, just like a gentleman should. He made it as far as the front door of his home in the canyon, awkwardly shutting the door behind him. 

Safe, he slid leaned back against the wall, sliding the length of it until he sat, legs out, against the wall. His sobs were choked and mangled at first, growing into longer and larger wails of pain, until finally he was a sobbing, blubbering mess. He brought his knees up and cradled his arm on them as he tried to wipe away the tears, with not much success. Snot and tears streamed down his face until, finally, he gave up trying to stem the flow. He sobbed to his hearts content because darn it, it hurt. He held it tightly to his racing uniform, which he was getting all the more bloody from the little bit where the broken bone had punctured skin. He could feel the bile rising up in his throat but a few quick swallows remedied that. As his sobs subsided he heard the footsteps of someone approaching him. He looked up to see a mirror image of himself, only with all the white in his appearance a dark, inviting brown. Oh. Bitter was here.

"Quite crying, you fool, and let me see." he commanded in an imperious voice. Butter rose his head a bit more, gingerly balancing his broken limb on his knees for his doppleganger to see. In turn Bitter placed a first aid kit on the floor, opening it and removing a pair of scissors.

"You might want to avert your eyes." Bitter said off-handedly as he began to cut away Butter's sleeve. The white clad racer obeyed, knowing he did not want to see any of this. Bitter cleaned and dressed the wound, injecting the arm with some morphine from a small vail. He didn't bother to set it as he knew that would harm the racer needlessly, and while he hated his idiotically servile attitude, he had to admit he hated to see him suffer. He tied off his arm near the elbow, hoping that would keep to much blood from going to the arm and thus escaping through the wound.

"You should be fine until reset." Bitter said to his double, but Butter had already fallen asleep. Bitter sighed and carefully picked Butter up bridle-style, so as not to aggregate his wound. He mumbled a few half-hearted death threats, but he couldn't manage being angry when he saw his other self, himself, so weak and helpless.

<.*.>

He layer him carefully on his back in bed, nestling his arm on a pillow and putting some sour suckers on each side of his inert body so he wouldn't accidentally roll onto his side. He made to go leave, but couldn't bring himself to do so, and instead pushed a fluffy white and red cupcake themed chair (Butter's favorite of course. Bitter despised the cheesy thing. What were they, five? They were lords! Lords!) beside the bed and snuggled into it, lying on his arms and watching Butter sleep. Pretty soon, Bitter began to drift off as well...

The dark chocolate racer woke with a start as his head slipped off of his piled arms. He awoke just in time to see Butter swimming back to consciousness.

The cream cheese racer moaned softly, turning his head to see Bitter waiting beside the bed. "Bitter...?" he managed, his voice sounding slow and slightly muddled.

"What happened? I know we're to good a racer for you to simply have crashed." Bitter stated in a level voice.

"The player crashed my car, but it wasn't her fault, Taffyta-"Bitter cut his twin off, hissing the name of that self centered, overrated pink little- he came short of thinking the word. He got up from his chair, readjusting his red gloves as he made a couple fists.

"Do you need anything?" Bitter asked in a flat voice.

"Whatever you thi-"

"Do you need anything?"

"N-no."

"Good. Then I'm going for a walk. Don't get out of bed." Bitter said curtly, leaving the room. Butter heard the loud, angry slam of the front door as he left for his "walk". 

<.*.>

Butter wanted to stop him, because a gentleman never hurt a lady, but he found himself too weak, and even the act of raising his head made the world spin faster than a tornado. He resigned himself to laying in bed, hoping that Bitter wouldn't hurt Taffyta too much. However, he knew his other self well enough to know that she wouldn't get less than she deserved, and either way, she'd be good as new as soon as the game reset. Just like he would be. He'd only half to suffer through this a few more hours.

After a few minutes he noticed that his mouth was exceptionally dry, and he realized he was very thirsty. He cursed himself for not asking Bitter to bring him water before he left. He looked dejectedly over to his side table, to find that Bitter had thought ahead and left him a tall glass of water with exactly two ice-cubes, mostly melted, with a straw. Just the way Butter preferred it. But of course Bitter would know that - they were one and the same. 

He grabbed the cup on handed, nursing it until he felt better. It was remarkable what a little water could do... Knowing there was nothing else to do and that Bitter would be out for at least another our, Butter re-situated himself and fell back into a deep sleep.

<.*.>

Bitter came home satisfied and much happier than when he had left. Taffyta had a broken arm to match his doppleganger's, and a few bites and scratches as "interest". He went to a spare room in their large abode, one he had claimed as his own, and grabbed a change of clothes. He cleaned himself up in the master bathroom, washing away the blood and sweat from his tango with Taffyta and her pack of fools. Now properly clothed he donned the new set of clothing, relishing the clean fresh feeling of a change of clothes before going off to check on Butter again.

Bitter was surprisingly relieved to find that his twin hadn't moved from his spot on the bed and that the glass of water was half empty. A strained moan escaped the original racer's lips, followed by another. Deciding it was time for another shot Bitter injected butter with a small amount more of morphine and then left to sleep in his own room.

<.*.>

Bitter awoke to the week cries of his name coming from the room next to his own. Part of him wished to break Butter's other arm for interrupting his sleep, but another part of him just sighed and put on a pair of adorable cupcake slippers (Also Butter's choice) and padded into the others room.

"What?" he spat, not bothering to sound nice. He was here, wasn't he? What more could he want. He realized then that Butter was still asleep, and was simply saying his name over and over again through the veil of his dream. With a frustrated rush of air Bitter climbed into Butter's bed on the right side, where his arm wasn't broken, and sidled up to him. He grabbed his double's hand and gripped it tightly.

“And you’re nothing but a course, rude, unrefined pig!” Butter retaliated, grabbing the lapels of his doppleganger’s racing suit.

“Let my jacket go.” Bitter said in a low, menacing voice. Butter did so, but not without shoving him backwards.

“Why you little-” Bitter growled, seeming as though he was on the edge of snapping; however, at the last minute he restrained himself, letting out a long breath. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, breathing deeply so as to keep calm.

“No. I won’t. Now as I was saying, you’re nothing but a subservient, ever so polite little-” He was cut off by a hand grabbing his lapel once again and a crushing of lips against his open mouth.