Chapter Text
Shit, fuck, goddamint. Hughie was late and when Hughie was late, Butcher was even bitchier than normal. The worst part was that it wasn’t even his fault, partially. Hughie was late because of Butcher, or well Butcher’s coffee that had to have specific requirements or else the older man would scream at him and make him do it from scratch. And Hughie would like to very much avoid all that.
True, his alarm hadn’t gone off when it was supposed to, but after the quickest shower in the history of humankind and a non existent breakfast, Hughie would’ve been right on time if it weren’t for Butcher’s coffee. Luckily, the barista at the coffee shop, Annie, worked quickly, and after a thank you nod, he was off towards the office.
Running as fast as he could, avoiding upcoming cars and traffic, he entered Vought Offices just as the elevator doors were about to close. To his good luck, Marvin Milk, one of his colleagues, saw him and held the door for him.
“Everything alright, Hughie?” MM, as he preferred to be called, asked him.
“Never better,” Hughie answered, lowkey trying to regain his breath.
“You look like hell,” MM said as the elevator started its way up.
“Feels like I’m in it,” Hughie murmured, low enough that he hopped MM wouldn’t catch it, but if the look of concern he sent his way was any indication, Hughie had not been successful.
He sighed, praying that Butcher wouldn’t be at the office for at least another five minutes.
…
Butcher’s day was off to a great start. He had worked out, finished reading the manuscript he had to deliver for printing, and was now talking with Nathan Noir, their most prolific yet reclusive writer. It was a miracle to even get him on the phone, but Butcher will be damned if he didn’t get the man to promote his own books.
“C’mon, mate, you know what an appearance in Oprah will do for your career.”
Nathan said nothing, but that wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was to get him to talk.
“Look, people in this country don’t read, but if someone famous and charismatic enough tells them ‘oi, you need to put your telly, tablet, computer or phone down and read this amazing book by Nathan Noir’, everyone goes crazy and just follows them. Your book will be number one in record time if you do this.”
Nathan just sighed, as if contemplating something. But that was enough to keep Butcher pushing the man. He looked both ways before crossing the street, seeing Vought Tower right across from him.
“Mate, the truth is that every good writer does some sort of publicity if they want their books to sell. Take Ashmore, Ackles and Benson. And you know what else they have in common besides being good? A fucking Pulitzer.”
After a pause, a sigh of defeat was heard across the telephone. And just like that, Butcher knew he had won. The doors of the elevator opened and Butcher entered with a delighted smile on his face.
“I’ll send you the day and time,” was all he said before hanging up.
It was sure shaping up to be a great day.
…
As Hughie entered the office, Maeve greeted him with a sarcastic grin.
“Cutting it close, Hughie,” she said in lieu of a hello.
“One of those mornings,” Hughie replied with a forced smile, “but thank you, Queen Obvious.”
But as he was finishing those words, he stumbled upon a distracted intern, making him spill Butcher’s coffee all over himself and the floor. Hughie was horrified at the sight, and could already hear Butcher's rant when he found out. Luckily, he had a backup plan.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking,” the intern was apologising profusely while looking like a mess. “I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay,” Hughie said after taking a deep breath. “I just need your shirt.”
“My… my shirt?” the intern asked, looking down at his white pristine shirt.
“Yes, yes, please give me your shirt so I can wear it and Butcher doesn’t kill me,” Hughie explained as he looked at the intern with what he was sure were crazy eyes.
The intern just sighed but nodded, and Hughie indicated to follow him on his way to Butcher’s office. He set down Butcher’s backup coffee and swap shirts with the intern. As they were exchanging shirts, his phone lit up with a notification from the group chat all workers in the floor had minus Butcher .
“He’s here,” Maeve’s text read, making Hughie’s blood freeze.
He shushed the intern away as he polished the last details of his appearance. He looked around the room, trying to find evidence of anything amiss when he located the coffee he had saved for Butcher. He grabbed it as Butcher entered the office, too preoccupied with looking at his phone.
“Morning,” Hughie said as Butcher approached him to receive his coffee. “You have a morning conference call at 11 about…”
“Yes,” Butcher interrupted him as he sat down on a chair. “The cunts at the top want to talk about the marketing at the spring sign up.”
“There’s also a staff meeting at 9:00 to discuss…”
“Did you call… ah shit what was his name?” Butcher interrupted him before taking a sip of his coffee. “The one with the stupid dolphin obsession.”
“Kevin,” Hughie supplied.
“That cunt,” Butcher said with a smile, that more than a smile looked like a feral grin.
“Yes, I did,” Hughie replied, ignoring Butcher’s choice of language. “I told him that if he doesn’t have the manuscript ready on time, you won’t give him a release date. Also, your immigration lawyer called. He said it is imperative that…”
“Cancel the call, postpone the meeting to tomorrow and keep the lawyer on the sheets. Also, get a hold of PR and have them start drafting a PR release. Nathan is doing Oprah.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” Hughie couldn’t help but praise. Nathan Noir was one of the most reclusive writers in existence. Butcher’s accomplishment of getting him into Oprah was huge.
“If I want your praise, I will ask for it,” Butcher said sarcastically.
As Hughie was on his way out, however, Butcher stopped him. Hughie feared the worst.
“Oi, kid. Who is Annie and why does she want me to ‘call her’?”
Hughie’s face turned bright red and dread fell upon him. Slowly, he turned to face Butcher in what he hopped was an inconspicuous look.
“That… that was supposed to be my cup,” Hughie said with a surprisingly stable voice.
“And why am I drinking your coffee, eh mate?” Butcher asked with an amused yet dangerous smile.
“Your coffee spilled.” Hughie said, trembling all over minus the voice.
Butcher’s smile turned into a shit eating grin as he nodded, like in some sort of inner joke with himself. Hughie tried to breathe, to no avail, as Butcher took a second sip to his coffee.
“So you drink Clover Brewed Coffee, three extra shots of espresso, tall at 120 Degrees with no milk and no sugar?”
“I do,” Hughie said, trying to calm down the anxiety he could feel brewing underneath his skin. “Is safer than cocaine.”
Butcher smiled, less feral and more amused.
“What a coincidence.”
“I know. It’s not like I order the exact same coffee that you do in fear of spilling it on accident or something like that. That, that would be incredibly pathetic, don’t you think?”
Before Butcher could say anything, the phone rang. Hughie ran to answer it as measured and controlled as possible.
“Morning. William Butcher’s office.”
“Hey, Hughie,” John Homelander said from the other line, making Hughie’s skin crawl. John Homelander was a senior editor at Vought, but unlike Butcher, his work left some things to be desired. Which was the reason Butcher was the Chief Editor and not Homelander.
“Hey John,” Hughie said with a forced smile. Butcher turned to look at him and made a gesture with his hand, pointing towards Homelander’s office right next to his.
“Is there any chance I could talk to you and Butcher, you see…”
“Actually, we’re on our way right now.”
“Oh, really?” John asked, sounding surprised.
“Yeah,” Hughie said as he hung up and Butcher stood up from the desk, coffee in hand.
“Why are we going to Homelander's office?”
Butcher said nothing, but his smile looked like that of a psychopathic child who had just murdered their first bird. Hughie didn’t like Homelander, but feared for the other guy. Making his way towards his desk to drop the manuscripts Butcher had given him during their exchange, Hughie took advantage and sent a text to the group chat.
“The asshole is on his way.”
The entire floor went back to perfect positions on their desks as soon as the text appeared on their phones, just as Butcher came out of his office, uncaring about everything around him. Hughie quickly joined him.
“Did you finish the manuscript I gave you?” Hughie asked as they made their way towards Homelander’s office.
“I read a few pages, wasn’t that impressed.”
“Can I say something?”
“No.”
“I’ve read thousands of manuscripts,” Hughie said, ignoring Butcher’s answer. “I’ve never given you one, except for this one. I truly believe there is something special in it and is the kind of novel you used to publish back when…”
“I’m gonna stop you right there, kid and tell you that I ain’t publishing it. Not interested.” Butcher said as they caught the intern with the spilled shirt. Butcher looked at him with an unimpressed look on his face and continued. “And, also, I do think that you order the same coffee as I do in fear of spilling it which is, in fact, absolutely pathetic.”
“Or impressive,” Hughie said, ignoring Butcher’s jab at his recommended manuscript.
“Impress me by not spilling my damn coffee in the first place,” he said right as they approached Homelander’s office. “Remember, you’re nothing but a prop in here.”
“Won’t say a word,” Hughie replied as they entered the office, standing by the door. He tried to make himself as invisible as he could, suspecting what was about to come.
“Ah, but it’s our fearless leader and his lackey. Welcome, make yourselves comfortable.”
“What a beautiful breakfront,” Butcher said as he admired Homelander’s bookcase. “Is it new?”
“It’s English Regency, 1800s, but yes, it is new. In my office, at least,” Homelander said, smiling smugly at Butcher.
“Clever,” Butcher murmured only for Hughie to hear, full of disdain. “John, you’re fired.”
“What?” Homelander asked as all the smugness from his face was replaced by anger and disdain. Hughie never liked when those two fought, so he turned to look at Butcher who appeared like the cat who ate the bird.
“I ask you countless times to get Nathan to do Oprah and you just couldn’t do it.”
Hughie had just realised the door of the office was opened, so as silently as he could, he closed it. However, he was a bit too late as Maeve, who was near Homelander’s office, was looking at him with her eyes wide open in surprise. Hughie barely shook his head, and Maeve turned back to her work.
If Butcher took notice of the exchange, he said nothing. And Homelander was too busy sending daggers Butcher’s way to notice anything else.
“I have told you countless times, Butcher,” Homelander said with venom in his voice, “that it’s impossible to get Noir to do any sort of publicity. His last interview was 8 years ago.”
“Then how come I just got him this morning to agree to an appearance with Oprah?” Butcher asked smugly as he approached Homelander’s desk.
Hughie could only stand and watch at the two men in front of him barely holding onto professionalism and propriety. The tension in the room was making him want to bolt and never return.
“You never even called him, did you, cunt?”
“How dare you…”
“I know Noir can be a little intimidating for someone like you,” Butcher said, condescendingly. “But since I am very nice, I will give you two weeks to find another job and you get to tell everyone that you resigned cause ‘we didn’t appreciate a man like yourself.’”
With that, Butcher made his way towards the door, not even looking at Hughie. However Hughie knew he didn’t want to stay with Homelander, who was frozen in anger and shock and was visibly shaking with his hands on fists tightly at his side.
“What do you see?” Butcher asked as they walked towards his office.
“He’s pacing, he has an insane look on his face. Oh shit, he’s on his way.”
“Just perfect,” Butcher said with a smile as he continued on his way.
“You, motherfucking asshole.” Homelander screamed as he made his way towards them. Hughie stepped aside, as the whole office turned to look at the exchange. “You can’t fire me . You think I don’t see what you’re doing? You’re sandbagging me on this whole deal so the board can look at you and say what a great editor you are?”
Butcher just stood there, trying to conceal his disgust at the man and his amusement at his words. Hughie wanted to disappear onto the wall.
“You are threatened by me,” Homelander continued, ignoring everyone else’s look of disbelief. “And you have nothing against me. I’m untouchable.”
“Just because you have no semblance of life outside of the office doesn’t mean that the rest of us don’t do our jobs the way we’re supposed to.” As Homelander continued, Butcher stopped looking amused and turned to look murderous. “I feel sorry for you, I really do. You should’ve been able to move on and get a life, I mean, Becca…”
The whole office gasped and Hughie felt his heart drop. If there was one taboo topic in the office, it was Becca Butcher. And Homelander being the one saying it, well, it was bound to end bad.
“Shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you,” Butcher said, approaching Homelander in slow movements. “Don’t you ever dare mention my wife again, or I’ll make you regret ever setting a fucking foot in this office.”
Homelander was still murderous, but he looked apologetic at having crossed the line. But it was too late, and Butcher was having no mercy.
“I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened, you stupid cunt. I fired you because you’re a lazy, entitled and incompetent piece of shit. You spend more time ogling Madelyn Sitwell while she’s breastfeeding than at your office and if you say another fucking word, I’ll have you thrown down on your arse.”
Homelander opened his mouth to reply, but Butcher silenced him with a look.
“Another word, and you’ll be out of here with an armed escort, which Hughie will film with his phone and publish on the internet. Tik Tok, Instagram, YouTube, you name it. Your sorry ass will be everywhere and people will see you for the pathetic cunt that you really are. Is that what you want?”
Homelander said nothing, just looked at Butcher with hatred and nodded. Butcher smiled his characteristic feral smile.
“Didn’t think so,” he said as he turned around. “I have work to do.”
Hughie quickly stood up and followed Butcher, ignoring the looks of everyone at the office was sending their way. Sometimes he wished he had Butcher’s confidence, because asshole or not, Butcher got results and knew it.
“Have security take his breakfront out of his office and move it to my conference room,” Butcher said as they made their way back to his office.
“Done.”
“And I need you around this weekend to help review his files in his manuscripts,” Butcher continued as they entered his office.
Hughie halted at the door, fearing he had heard wrong.
“This weekend?”
“Is there a problem?” Butcher asked as he turned around and made eye contact with him, making Hughie fight his flinch.
“No, no… Is just that I had asked you to give me the weekend off. It’s my grandma’s 90th birthday and I was gonna go home,” he said but noticed at mid speech that Butcher was already ignoring him again. “No problem, I’ll just cancel… again,” he murmured as he exited the office and closed the door behind him.
Well, that would go over well with his parents for sure.
...
Butcher was contemplating on the recent events and how satisfactory it had been to finally get rid of John Homelander, when a conversation outside his office made him pause and turn around. Not wanting to be noticed, he stood on his door’s frame, hidden from Hughie’s view. The kid was on his desk, hunched over the phone and looking pained and miserable.
“I know, dad, believe me, I know.” Hughie was saying. “Tell Pops I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do.”
There was a pause and Hughie’s face fell even more. Butcher felt bad for the lad, and he should’ve paid more attention to what he had said about the weekend. Without thinking, he made his way towards the young man.
“Dad… Dad… what do you want me to say? He's making me work on the weekend and I’ve worked way too hard for this job. I know mom is pissed but…” Hughie paused and coughed, tensing immediately. “Here at Vought we take our submissions very seriously sir, so we’ll get back at you as soon as we can.”
As Hughie was hanging up, Butcher found himself troubled. He knew the kid felt bad for cancelling on his family, but Butcher needed him over the weekend to go over Homelander’s work, which was most likely done poorly, so letting the lad go for the weekend was off the table. Besides, family was overrated in Butcher's books.
“Is that your family?” Butcher asked, not knowing what else to say.
“Yep,” Hughie said, not looking up from the phone.
“They told you to quit?”
“Every single week,” Hughie said before a sigh. He stood up and looked at Butcher, ready to tackle the next thing Butcher asked him to do. The phone rang and their eye contact was broken.
“William Butcher’s office,” Hughie said to the phone. “Yeah… oh, yep, okay,” he added as he hung up. He turned to look at Butcher and the sight of Hughie’s eyes made him want to sigh. “Mrs Mallory and Mrs Raynor want to see you in their office.”
“Fucking hell,” he said after a grunt, looking at the time. “Come get me in ten minutes.”
“Okay,” Hughie said as Butcher just walked away. He could feel everyone around him looking his way and gossiping about the exchange between him and Homelander, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck. He was finally free of the cunt and people feared him enough to keep the gossip ‘hidden’ from him.
As he entered Mallory’s office, he mentally checked everything Hughie and he had to do for the day. It would be a long day, but thankfully the lad never complained. He was probably the best assistant Butcher had ever had. Not that he’d ever tell the kid that, it would go to his head and he would start failing just like everyone else always did.
“Morning, Mr Butcher,” Mallory’s assistant greeted him warmly, which he ignored. He was busy and on a schedule. Chit chat was not in it.
“Mallory, Raynor, don’t you two just light up a room,” he said with a smile as he approached Mallory’s desk. Mallory looked not too pleased from where she was sitting behind her desk and Raynor looked downright furious as she sat straight on the couch. However, as far as Butcher was concerned, he had done nothing to warrant those looks.
“Congratulations on Nathan,” is what Mallory said in greeting as Butcher sat down.
“Thank you,” he said with a satisfied smile, ignoring Raynor’s look of anger. “Is this about my second raise?” he asked with a playful smile, trying to ease the tension in the room. He was having such a great morning.
“Butcher,” Mallory said as she unfolded a piece of paper she had on her desk and began to read it. “Do you remember what we agreed on regarding the Frankfurt Fair?”
“What about it?”
“You remember us telling you that couldn’t go because you weren’t allowed out of the country while your VISA application was being processed?” Raynor said as she stood up and went to stand behind Mallory’s desk.
Butcher nodded, vaguely remembering that particular conversation. It had been months ago and he had more important things in mind at the time. Hughie probably remembered. His memory was unlike any other Butcher had seen. “Yes, I do,” he said instead.
“Yet, you still went,” Mallory said, crossing her arms and leaning on her chair, letting go of the letter. Butcher immediately tensed up, knowing that that was Mallory's way of saying ‘you fucked up.’
“We were gonna lose Ezekiel Ashmore to Capes of Christ, so really I had no choice.”
“Well, seems like the United States Government doesn’t care who publishes Ezekiel Ashmore,” Mallory said as she looked at the letter in her hands once more.
“We just spoke with your immigration lawyer,” Raynor added as she leaned on the counter, crossing her arms.
“That’s perfect, so we’re all good, ain’t we?” Butcher said as he relaxed. If they had talked to the lawyer, Butcher was fine and he had nothing to worry about.
“Butcher, your VISA was denied.” Mallory said as she let go of the letter once more, making Butcher’s stomach drop. “And you’re being deported.”
Butcher stood up and looked around, perplexed. This couldn’t be happening, right? Not really. It was a stupid fucking mistake.
“Deported?” He asked, incredulous. “It was a stupid trip, surely we can...”
“Apparently there’s some papers you didn’t fill out on time as well,” Mallory continued, ignoring Butcher’s shocked expression.
“Oh, c’mon, that’s a load of bollocks and you know it,” Butcher said as he regained his ability to speak. “I’m not even a real immigrant, I’m from England, goddamint. We colonised you.”
“You can reapply in a year,” Raynor said after exchanging a look with Mallory. “Unfortunately, you have to be out of the country for that time.”
“Well, that’s not perfect, but we can work with that,” Butcher said as he sat down once more. “I can video conference from London and with the internet the way it is now, well, the limit is our imagination.”
“You can’t work for an American company from England, Butcher,” Mallory said, exasperated. “Until this is resolved, we’re giving all your work to John Homelander.”
“John Homelander?!?” Butcher exploded, standing up again. “The cunt I just fired for being an incompetent lazy son of a bitch?”
“We need a Chief Editor,” Raynor explained after a sigh, “he’s the only one experienced enough to take on the job.”
“You cannot be serious, Mallory, you seriously can’t.”
“Butcher, we’d do anything to have you stay,” Mallory said, looking him intently in the eyes, “anything. If there was something we could do, we’d be doing it as we speak. But there’s nothing we can do, not really.”
“Well, that can’t be right, there has to be a…” Butcher began saying before a knock on the door interrupted them and Hughie entered the office, looking agitated and out of breath.
“We’re in a meeting,” Raynor said as Hughie entered the office, his head popping out like a meerkat.
“Uhm… I know but...”
“What Hughie, what?” Butcher asked, exasperated at Hughie’s nervousness. Every other day he would’ve let that go, but at the time he had other pressing matters in mind that the kid’s anxiety.
“I’m sorry to interrupt but it was Cleo, from Mesmer’s home.”
“Right,” Butcher said, not really paying attention to what Hughie was saying. “And?”
“She says it's rather urgent and needs to talk to you now.”
“Right, right,” Butcher said, having forgotten he had asked Hughie to come and get him and asking him to stop talking. However Hughie was not taking the hint.
“She sounded desperate about Mesmer, so I told her you’d be right there so…”
As Hughie trailed off and pointed towards the door, Butcher had an idea. Hughie practically did everything Butcher asked so he would play along and do as he was told. He just hopped Mallory and Raynor bought his bullshit. Hughie just looked at him, confusion dawning on him as Butcher stood in the middle of the office looking between the lad and his bosses.
Quietly, Butcher muttered to Hughie to join him in the office. The kid, looking like a lost puppy, slowly walked towards them. Mallory and Raynor exchanged looks, but Butcher ignored them. He needed to sell it.
“Ladies, I understand the predicament we’re in. But I think there’s something you need to know.” Hughie stood right behind him, like usual, but Butcher needed something else, so discreetly, he grabbed Hughie’s hand and made him stand right next to him.
“Hughie and I, we’re getting married.”