Work Text:
1.
Butcher has started to do this one thing that Hughie is unsure how to feel about still, even to this day.
The first time it happened, it was a casual day in the flatiron building. Hughie ushered himself into the main office, balancing four coffee cups in one hand and his own in the other. Hughie hated getting coffee for everyone, not because he disliked the action, but he was naturally clumsy and constantly anxious that he'd drop all of them and be forced to go all the way back to order another batch.
He couldn't avoid it though, it was his assigned day to get the coffee. In an act of fairness, they'd assigned everyone a day where every morning they'd go to the coffee shop down the street and get everyone a personalized cup to start the day.
Hughie chose Monday, eager to boost everyone's morale at the start of the week, it kept everyone satisfied and complacent and it filled Hughie with joy to do something nice first thing in the morning. Tuesday was assigned to M.M., who usually started the week more prepared and less grumpy than the others, also setting a pattern of following the pace and rules everyone agreed to.
Wednesday was Frenchie's turn, who almost always grabbed some donuts for everyone to share that he'd pay for himself. No one ever asked for them, but nobody complained either, it was a good and tasty way to break up the middle of the week with some sweetness. Thursday was close enough to Friday that nobody wanted drama, which fit Kimiko's efficient and calm way of getting the coffee, not even Butcher dared to say anything when it was Kimiko's turn.
Lastly Butcher's turn was Friday, given to him by process of elimination. Everyone usually came in a little later into the office, where they'd just pick their own coffee on the way there. It was perfect because Butcher was wildly inconsistent on getting coffee. The older man insisted on arguing, bringing some kind of random excuse or argument why he wouldn't go which got really tiring after a while. Even when he did go, he got everyone's orders completely wrong, except his own of course. Everyone agreed to just get their own coffees that day and throw away the ones Butcher brought if he ever did go once in a blue moon, punishing him by wasting his money on nothing.
If it weren't obvious already, today was Monday, bright and early. Hughie balanced his way to M.M.'s desk, his eyes fixated on the coffee's in his hand, and picked one Black coffee with two sugars to drop it off next to M.M's computer. The concentrated man doesn't take his eyes off his screen as he gives him a quick thank you as he takes one sip of it, with a pleased hum.
One down, four left to go. Hughie's quickly off to the other side of the room to give Kimiko and Frenchie their own coffee. As luck would have it, both of them were sitting and "working" on the same desk, if doing a crossword together is what you would call working.
"Here you go. Iced matcha Latte for Kimiko and Double espresso with cinnamon for Frenchie." Hughie announces, dropping both cups as he says their name.
"Merci, petit Hughie." Frenchie thanks him, followed by Kimiko's own thank you through sign language and a small sweet smile. As Hughie walks away to his last destination, he hears the two lovebirds sharing their orders with each other. Frenchie complains Kimiko's order is too sweet, whereas Kimiko just shrugs at Frenchie's order.
Last is Butcher's order. Pure and bitter black coffee. He walks to the back of room where Butcher's desk is situated, intending to leave the coffee in front of him as to not disturb the work he currently seems engrossed in.
"Wait, Hughie. Come 'round and put it next to me, I can't be arsed to reach out for it."
Hughie groans, the only difference would be a few inches, he'd only have to stretch out his arm to each. Hughie decides to do it anyway, the day flows better when Butcher isn't pissy over something. He walks around behind the desk and next to Butcher's chair, where he leaves the coffee right next to his keyboard.
Finally it's done, his coffee is the only one left in his hand and he's determined to enjoy it before he starts putting his working cap on. As he's about to leave, a hand claps him on the back a few times, not strong but enough to push Hughie forward a bit.
"Good boy, Hughie."
Wait, what? Did he hear that right?
Hughie snaps to stare at Butcher, uncertain that he heard that quite right. Even with a full view of Butcher's face, he's still doubtful. Butcher nonchalantly taking a sip out of his coffee, like nothing happened and those embarrassing words never left his lips.
On Hughie's way back to his own desk, he feels pink rise to his cheeks. It was a strange feeling, like meat sizzling in his gut and it was warming Hughie's body up, especially his cheeks. He'd been praised similarly by teachers and his dad, but coming from Butcher it was creating a buzzing tepid energy underneath his skin.
Audible snickering and whispering snaps Hughie out of his head. Turning to see where it's coming from, Frenchie and Kimiko are looking at him from behind a newspaper they're sharing. Once they've noticed Hughie spotted them, they lower it and Frenchie smiles wide.
"You're a bon garçon, huh?" Hughie isn't exactly topped up on his French, so he doesn't know what he's trying to tell him, but the stifled chucking and sniggering tell him they're getting joy out of his expense. Kimiko's smirk connects something inside him.
Did they just see what happened? Hughie fervousrouly tries to rub the color out of his cheeks, trying something, ANYTHING to show that what Butcher said didn't get to him. That only gets Frenchie and Kimiko's contained laughter to being even louder.
"Oi! What are you lovebirds so chuffed about?" Butcher snapped, glaring into the couple as he takes another sip with the mouth of problems that started this whole thing.
"It's nothing, monsieur. Just found something funny in the newspaper." Kimiko nods alongside him.
"Well keep it down. I can't hear myself thinking with the both of you cackling like some old cunts at the corner ship." Butcher demands, shifting his eyes back to his screen, the conversation final.
Kimiko and Frenchie leave after that, giving Hughie a cheeky little wave before leaving. God, Hughie's mortified, but at least it's over now. Part of him wants to thank Butcher, but he started this whole mess
so he's not sure how grateful he's feeling towards him right now.
Work should take his mind off this whole thing. At least he hopes so. Hughie's vanilla latte with oat milk that he always orders doesn't seem as sweet as he drinks it.
-----
2.
The next time it happens, it's quite a few weeks later during the weekend. He's staying at Butcher's place per his request so someone could look after Terror while he was gone. Butcher keeps asking him to take care of him, despite the constant complaints that he's apparently softening him up, but Hughie doesn't do much of anything.
It can't possible be that bad if Butcher's always calling him up for help. Maybe it's just an internal way to avoid thanking Hughie, he knows the bulldog is a soft spot for the British man. An actual show of gratitude might be too much for his frayed heart to handle.
He could just refuse the offer if it bothered that much, but it doesn't really, not like he had much going on anyway. He had planned to play videogames all day with maybe a trip outside for lunch with Annie, which he ended up doing inside Butcher's house. He had Terror promise not to tell Butcher, who might strangle the life out of him if he found out he let a supe in his home. Plus, he really loves Terror, he's quite affectionate in spite of being raised by Butcher of all people.
It's already late Sunday afternoon when Butcher arrives. Hughie and Terror were lounging on the sofa watching nothing, Hughie had used this time to get some work in with an occasional hand occupied to scratch Terror's scalp. When he arrives, Terror jumps off to rush to Butcher's side, who bends down to give Terror a good rub.
"Welcome back, how did it go?" Hughie asks, closing his laptop, his brain subconsciously trying to remember the things he brought over so he can pack quickly and leave for his own apartment.
"Mind your own business, will ya?" Butcher replies with a "sweet" tone, saved from the venom because he's distracted by Terror. Hughie smiles wryly, it's his fault for even trying, he guesses. He'll outwear his welcome if he stays for too long, so Hughie lifts himself off the sofa and starts gathering his things.
It's that moment where he's occupied, not really noticing where Butcher is and what he's doing that he hears those words again.
"You did good. Good boy."
Hughie snaps his head around instantly to stare at Butcher, but he's already gone, his boots stomping can be heard deeper into the apartment. Were those meant for him? If Butcher were looking at him while saying so, he'd know for sure, but he wasn't paying attention, too engrossed looking around for any stray belongings.
Great. Now all he could think about was Butcher earnestly thanking him for taking care of Terror by praising him in such a depraved, yet innocent way at the same time. His eyes flit around to the bulldog who stuck around with him, and it becomes clear.
"Hold on, was he saying that to you?" Hughie questions the dog, who can't understand him. I mean, it made sense you'd praise your dog with good boy, but Terror didn't do anything. Hughie was the one who took care of him all weekend.
Terror just tilts his head, tongue hanging out of his mouth. Hughie blinks blankly at the mutt for a few seconds before realizing he's being ridiculous and he should start getting out of here before Butcher scolds him for being slow.
Before he goes on his way, Hughie makes sure to give Terror a short goodbye massage to his back, repeating the same words Butcher told the bulldog when he came in. Snapshots of Butcher calling him the same names while massaging his own scalp like a dog flash in his brain like a disruptive camera shot. His skin turns almost as red as Terror's tongue as he lets his brain wonder.
-----
3.
Hughie knew this was a bad idea when Butcher first came up with it, but that stubborn asshole never listens and everyone else has to pay for it.
About a week ago now, there were rumors circling around that a new industrial coffee roasting warehouse in Newark was secretly a front for Vought's black market compound lab. M.M. traced a shipment of suspicious barrels of "caffeine concentrate" that were shipped to the warehouse, and Frenchie hacked the delivery manifest to confirm potential Vought involvement.
The plan was to wait and see if anything came out, the risk of being noticed could lead to everything being swept under the rung or all the processes being cleaned up before with them none the wiser.
Which is exactly where Butcher comes in. Demanding that they go in now before they fuck off and leave them without a lead. Emphasizing that inaction and hesitation is how Vought wins, neither of them are particularly convinced but they're afraid Butcher might do something reckless. Hughie would rather have Butcher do something stupid with everyone together instead of alone, even if it's just for his safety.
Just like always it all goes to shit because why would things ever go their way for once. A quick snatch and grab Butcher said, but here they are fighting for their lives against ten armed soldiers who were keeping watch when one of them spotted the team as they were sneaking in. All hell started breaking lose.
Of course Kimiko could handle herself just fine, Butcher and M.M. were struggling but pulling out just fine. Frenchie was having a hard time until his "savior" Kimiko came to bail him out, however Hughie wasn't so lucky.
When shots started firing, he did the wise thing and entered one of the rooms to collect himself, but he got followed by one of them and preceded to get taken down to the floor, his head hitting the floor in a ganrly way with a knife thrust aiming for his chest. Hughie managed to catch the aggressor's hand to stop the attack, but they were putting force into the jab, the knife going lower and lower, slowly but certainly about to stab his chest.
Hughie needed to do something, the goon was a lot stronger than he was and Hughie's hands were getting sweaty, losing grip on their hands. In a moment of desperation, Hughie twists his body to use the guard's momentum on the knife to have it hit the floor. This is his moment. Using the time that he has to his disposal before the guard can lift the knife back up, Hughie hits him with a clean shoulder strike that causes them to drop the knife.
Aha!
Hughie clutches the blade in his hands before getting punched in the cheek, soon to be followed by another but is cut off when Hughie twists back, knife slicing perfectly against their neck.
What feels like an extra minute not present in the usual 1440 minutes in a day happens, in that borrowed time, Hughie breaths deeply, staring at the soon-to-be dead man in front of him. His eyes are blown wide, much bigger than he's ever seen before, he look at him with betrayal, surprise and desperation.
The clock on the minute runs out and blood starts spilling out of his neck like a sprinkler, painting Hughie's face like he got caught in someone's backyard at a bad time. The guard gurgles on their own blood, before eventually dropping their entire dead weight on Hughie, and he's quick to push him off frantically, urgently to get away from the scene.
The scent of blood filling his nose, the crimson font filling his eyes brings him back to memories he'd rather not remember and it all feels like it's about to swallow him whole.
When Hughie comes to, he's in the flatiron building bathroom being cleaned by a pair of hands he recognizes as Butcher's. That's not quite right, he didn't black out or anything, he just stopped thinking is all. He remembers Butcher coming in, forcefully ushering him to his feet and demanding that they leave now.
He could only hear bits and pieces on the ride back, but apparently they had a set a bomb right while they were fighting to erase any evidence any of them could bring back with them. Hughie had to go through all this and they didn't even get anything out of it.
Maybe that's why Butcher was here now, cleaning the mess he left on Hughie's body and soul, an apology the best way he knew how. Butcher was taking a towel, wetting it with water and rubbing the blood away. Hughie can't even bare to look at him, just staring mindlessly into the corner of the bathroom.
Butcher cards his hand through his curls as he keeps taking care of him, as he wipes a small speck around his ear, Hughie hears him mumble next to his ear.
"I'm sorry, Hughie. You did what you had to, yeah son? Lift your chin so I can clean there too." He instructs him, sneaking in a quick apology at the same time. Because he isn't enough of a dog for Butcher already, he does exactly as he's told.
Butcher's next words are exactly what someone like Hughie in this moment, absent and falling apart needs to hear to build himself back up again.
"There's a good boy."
------
4.
The door to the flatiron door bursts open with both Hughie and Butcher storming through with an atmosphere of heated tension between the two of them.
Butcher was walking ahead, locked jaw and angry features on his face, it looked like he was seconds away from hurting something or someone. Hughie on the other hand was a few steps behind chasing Butcher like he always seemed to do. He wasn't doing it out of need for guidance, he was challenging Butcher and wouldn't give him a way out, not this time.
"Can you slow down, Butcher? I'm trying to talk to you, stop running away!"
Butcher snickers, "I ain't running away, I'm just taking a seat if you're going to yap my ear off." Her finally arrives at his office chair, sitting down and giving him a chivvied look.
Hughie stops himself right in front, he sees how Butcher's eyes roll, coming to terms with the fact that he'll be trying to convince him, pestering him for the better part of an hour. Hughie's absolutely okay with that, he's gotten exceptionally good at doing this exact thing because of him.
After not even a month of that horrible mission where he had to get his hands dirty, Butcher is already suggesting to repeat the same mistakes and choices that drove them into a corner last time. The whole day still feels like an apparition.
Naturally, Butcher pretended that "tender" moment where he actually apologized to him and cleaned his wounds never happened. It's stuck in Hughie's mind like a worm crawled inside his brain, and laid it's eggs there to leave Butcher-shaped holes in his brain. It's frustrating that Butcher didn't even seem to think about it at all, would it even make him feel better if Butcher did?
Either way, that wasn't the core of the problem, he needed to focus if he was going to persuade Butcher to cast aside his plan that's doomed to fail.
"We can't just rush in there again, Butcher! Every time we do, people get hurt - including one of us. We should wait, get proof-" Hughie is doing his best, but it can't even pierce Butcher wall of arrogance, his words can't even reach him.
"Oh, here we bloody go."
Hughie hears him mutter those word, looking aside disinterested in anything Hughie has or could say to him. It makes Hughie cut himself off, stopping any avenue he had prepared on the way here to change Butcher's mind, opting for a different way.
"Why does it not seem to bother you that any one of us could die out there? Hell, WILL probably die out there with how reckless all your recent plans have been. I understand that we're getting desperate, but one wrong move and we'll be shit out of luck for any other future plans we might have." Hughie says incredulously, offended that he even has to express this to Butcher, like he has to teach him basic empathy.
Butcher chews on his lip, still with a furtive look on his face, Hughie can see the wish on his face that he'd just disappear, but Butcher would have better luck of finding God than of him leaving. Butcher spins himself around, putting his back to Hughie like a child covering his hands over his ears.
"You're got to be kidding me. Did you even listen to a word I said? Can you at least answer me instead of ignoring me like a kid?" Hughie presses, giving him a chance to regain his respect before he steps in front of him again, or take off the chair for good.
The only thing he can hear is his heated breath, rising and getting louder the longer Butcher does absolutely nothing, but just stew there. He's about had enough and he's about to press him some more, but Butcher snaps around again like the crack of a whip with a soured look on his face.
"Being better and careful don't win wars, son. Bastards do. Some of us have the will to get our hands dirty, but you ain't got that stomach, never did." The malice absolutely drips over every word as he says it. He's trying to upset him, he knows that. That's another certified Billy Butcher tactic to walling people away. He won't buckle to him, he'll keep fighting.
"That's not justice. You're just eager to burn everything down." Hughie isn't quite aware where those words came from, he blurted out the first thing that came from his heart.
Butcher grins slowly, with a sullen air of condescension. "Aww, look at that. Lil' Hughie's got his big boy voice on. Go on, give us another speech about morals."
Hughie wants to punch him, but that'll be giving him exactly what he wants. It's this attitude that makes Hughie question if the softer side he got to witness that day was even real. Right now, it definitely seems like an illusion, a false memory concocted to make him stay.
"Screw you, Butcher."
He tried his best, but some of that resentment slipped out.
Butcher gets up, and mockingly pats his cheek, letting something out before stomping off.
"That's the spirit. Good boy." The words hang there - dripping with mockery, like a leash he's yanking tight. Hughie's jaw clenches, but he doesn't swing. Butcher smirks only gets wider, satisfied he's still got control.
Hughie's too fired up, trying his best not to lash out at something - anything to notice that blood is rushing to his nether region at those two words that have been haunting him even longer than that day in the bathroom with Butcher.
"Fuck."
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5.
Hughie's world currently felt like it was submerged six feet underwater, his eyesight was blurry and any sound was muffled. He knew he was walking somewhere, but had no idea where he was going.
He had definitely drank way too much back there. His friends back in college always warned him about how much of a lightweight he was, but it's been a tougher week than usual, so he let himself go a little too loose. As a consequence, he couldn't walk without stumbling so someone was forced to help him home.
The person selected was Butcher. He's slightly more sober now than he was before, but he wasn't really in his right mind while the selection was going on. He wishes he could've overhead how Butcher was chosen, he'll have to ask later. He might be subconsciously hoping that Butcher volunteered instead of the more likely reason that he got forced to carry him.
It feels like every step he takes, the background around him disappears into darkness, his self held together by the shoulder that Butcher is letting him lean on. He can smell Butcher's natural smoky musk that's practically stuck to his clothes forever, his lower inhibitions are begging him to take a whiff, lean on his shoulder and take in his scent. Butcher might just drop him for doing that though and Hughie's not sure he'd be able to get up, so he holds himself back.
Hughie just enjoys being in near proximity to the Brit, slightly wondering when he let his affection for him become a common thing in his own mind. It must be the alcohol, he thinks. Then, they're stopping, and Hughie lifts his gaze to see that they've arrived at his place.
"C'mon, son. Pull your finger out and take out your keys, I'll be sweet enough and walk you to your door so you don't eat the floor when you eventually trip over your own feet." Butcher's smirks tells Hughie that he's enjoying this way too much. Now that he thinks of it, this is the first time Butcher's seen him this drunk. It's starting to make him feel embarrassed, showing him this side of him.
"I'm not that drunk, I can take myself home." Hughie slurs, his tongue slacking on the r's when he's talking. Alongside his clear struggle to take his keys out of his pocket, it portrays a rather pathetic image to the man next to him. It must be why he's chuckling to himself, though Hughie doesn't find it nearly as funny.
Butcher mumbles something like "Take your time" and he takes them out just a second after. He's fixing it to put them in the keyhole, but Butcher snatches them out of his hand and jingles them in front of him.
"Ah ah ah, I've already seen you grapple to take these out, I'm not up to seeing the same thing with you opening the door. I'll take over, yeah?" Hughie just nods, even though his mind is telling him to prove Butcher wrong. He really just wants to get to bed.
True to his word, Butcher takes no time unlocking the door and supporting him through it like he's baggage on his back. Then they're faced with another obstacle of the elevator being out of service, it's been like that for a few days. His apartment is anything but quick when it comes to maintenance.
When Butcher finds out that certain fact though, he swears at it with British vulgarities and looks like he's about to kick it down just to take out some of his anger.
"Right, forgot to tell you about that. You can just leave me here, I'll take the stairs." He tries to detangle himself off of Butcher, but Butcher just weaves a hand around his waist and keeps him close.
"It'll be bitch, but I'll keep my word and hoist you up there." He gives a few supportive back pats almost like the clean wipe on your shoulder before you get the injection, and Butcher is hoisting his whole body over his shoulder with an "Up you go!".
In contrast to Butcher's eagerness, Hughie is freaking out and trying not to land on his face.
"Shit, Butcher! Let me down! You've been drinking right? You're not gonna drop me on my face on those stairs, I don't want end up in the ER!" Hughie chastises, giving a few soft smacks to Bucther's back but he doesn't back down.
Unforgiving to Hughie's wails, Butcher starts going up the stairs holding him stable like he weighs nothing. "Oh, for fuck's sake Hughie, stop being a wee scared cunt. I can hold my liquor just fine, unlike a certain someone, plus you're a penguin, weighing absolutely nothing. Just hold on for a little longer without throwing up on my back, yeah? It'll take too long for your arse to get up those stairs, so this is the only option."
True to his word, Butcher does exactly that. Hughie thankfully only lives on the third floor, so it doesn't take that long to get up there but it feels like an eternity for Hughie who's trying to balance himself and not break his face open. What makes everything feel even more nauseating is the heat curling in his stomach from how hot someone carrying him on his shoulder is, especially someone as conflicting as Butcher has been for him as of late.
When Butcher arrives to his floor, he kneels down, giving Hughie the space to find his feet on the floor and take a breath. He almost falls over, stumbling on his feet, but Butcher once again sneaks a hand around his waist to keep him stable. He'd almost prefer to fall on his ass because feeling Butcher's hand on him right now is making him feel way too hot and adventurous. He needs to get home fast before he does something he regrets, he decides.
"Oppsie daisy, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Butcher says, giving him a snarky grin that's more mocking than comforting.
Ok, scratch that. He needs to get home NOW.
Hughie collects himself quickly, and walks to his door before he realizes he didn't take his key back from Butcher. He turns to face him with a sheepish smile.
"Could you unlock the door for me?" He feels like a kid asking for help from his daddy.
Wait...
That last word didn't come out quite right and it's doing damage to his imagination. Thankfully, the door of his escape finally opens. All he needs to do is step in, say his goodbyes and fall on his bed. Hughie puts one foot in the door. Step one done. Then gets ready for the biggest hurdle of facing Butcher and saying goodbye.
He turns around and he's on the verge of being quick, but Butcher cuts him off.
Butcher gives him a caring and solicitous expression, "You drank yourself silly tonight, Hughie. Make sure you drink some water and get some rest." It starts normal, and Hughie is entranced by the kindness Butcher is showing, even if it's just common decency for most other people. It's reminiscent of how he treated him when he was taking care of his wounds.
A soft smile is growing on Hughie's face in response, appreciating the small fragment of flowery fields in midst of this sticky drunk night. Hughie's satisfied with that, and is says a rapid good night and is going to close the door behind him but Butcher something else.
The normalcy and innocence of the moment is broken down in an instant.
"There's a good boy, yeah?"
Hughie halts in place, and anger of all things starts to rise out of him, feeling like fire could spout out of his mouth if he tried to say something.
"Fucking hell, Butcher." He lets escape, irritated at Butcher's torturous self, who makes an inquisitive noise at Hughie's perceived change in attitude.
Hughie feels something possess him and he rushes back out of his door, and grabs Butcher by the sleeves of his trench coat, pushing his lips onto Butcher's.
It's an unexpectedly soft kiss on Hughie's side, with hunger prowling around the edges. Butcher is warm, his lips rough and Hughie quite frankly wants to crawl inside him. Butcher accepts the kiss, diving deep into it, his hands surrounding him and placing themselves on his back, pushing him closer. He wants Butcher to never let go of him.
Hughie seperates, thinking it's for the best to set some context before anything else happens.
"Are we really doing this? This isn't some mixed signal thing, is it?"
Butcher sniggers, "I wouldn't say it is. Though, I wouldn't have guessed that "good boy" would be your thing. Always surprises with you, isn't it?"
Hughie scowls. Butcher's making fun of him, no doubt. There's no way he didn't know with how much he's been repeating it lately. Surely he's been waiting for him to break for a long time now.
"Right, like you haven't known since the beginning." Hughie whines, pulling on one of Butcher's belt loops to drag through the door. He starts another warm-blooded kiss.
Butcher holds him steady, breathing evenly and reciprocating without escalating. Hughie can't tell if he's genuinely happy to stay like this or if he's holding bacl and waiting for something more. He gets his answer when he threads his fingers into Butcher's hair and kisses more insistently, pushing forward with his tongue, and Butcher opens to him. Butcher shfits his hips up against Hughie, and breaths out a sigh that is almost a groan and Hughie gives him more, lapping into his mouth as Butcher's arms tighten and crush him close.
Hughie wants Butcher's fingers to sneak under his short and feel his skin, cool down the skin that's become way hot from the boiling blood that's been sizzling on low heat. Hughie hopes Butcher will start when passes through the door, but something stops him.
He cracks his eyes open that he didn't realize he had closed until now, for some reason he can't pull Butcher through the door frame into his apartment. He tries a few more times, putting more force into it but there's some sort of invisible force field impeding him from doing so.
It takes embarrassingly long for Hughie to notice it's not some sci-fi element like a force field, but Butcher's hand on the door frame acting like a door stop. He stares at Butcher, who gives him rueful eyes.
"What's wrong?" Hughie asks, deeply searching within himself for anything he could've done wrong to ruin the mood.
Butcher exhales through his nostrils, with a tight-lipped smile. "You're way too drunk for this, mate. I should be responsible, and force you to sleep." There's enough pain in his voice that Hughie can see Butcher wants this as badly as he does, but it still doesn't compute with him.
"What? Are you serious? I'm fine, I'm just a little tipsy."
Butcher levels him with a challenging expression, calling his bullshit. "You couldn't even walk yourself home. Trust me, you'll thank me later." He takes his hands back to himself and pushes Hughie back lightly, putting necessary distance between them.
"Are you really gonna do this?" Hughie petulantly complains, giving it one last shot to get Butcher back on him.
Butcher doesn't fall for it, much to Hughie's chagrin. "Yeah, I am. Sober up and we can talk about this later. You're a good boy, right? So you'll listen to what I say and obey?"
Hughie smiles wryly at Butcher's teasing. "You're gonna hang that over my head forever, aren't you?
Butcher does his signature grin, toothy and snarky. "Best believe I am."
------
+1
They did in fact talk about it tomorrow and have been together since then for 3 months now. Butcher is still as arrogant and insufferable as ever, that hasn't really changed. The only that has changed is that he gets his insides plunged by Butcher on an almost daily basis. Pretty much makes up for how annoying dealing with Butcher can be.
That's what Hughie catches himself thinking as Butcher thrusts into him from behind, both of them naked, sweaty and hot. He's leaning on his elbows, face down with Butcher on top of him leavening sloppy and wet kisses on his back.
Butcher breaths into his skin, deep lust in his voice. "You like that, Hughie? Who's a good boy?" Butcher was trying to get him mewling again, but he had grown a resistance to those words after a while. He'd grown tired of Butcher constantly using it to disarm him, both outside and inside the bedroom. He'd been planning revenge and today was the day to act on it.
He lowers his body allowing Butcher to trap him even further on the bed. Butcher might think this is Hughie giving him more control, but it gives Hughie the space to sneak a hand into Butcher's dark and unruly hair getting a good grip.
He smiles mischievously, having desperately waited to whip this trick out. "Who's a good boy? I don't know, let me ask you. Are you a good boy?" Hughie chuckles thinly, he's rather exhausted from getting fucked these past few minutes, Butcher's been dragging him along, teasing him for a while now. His release is slowly building.
Butcher is taken a back at the resistance, this isn't the usual Hughie that buckles his knees in surrender at mere mention of those two words. The dog bites back this time.
"Feelin' bad today, darlin'? I'll have to correct your attitude." Butcher husks into Hughie's ear, nipping his earlobe a bit. Hoping a little more contact can make Hughie heel.
Hughie isn't swayed however, he clutches onto Butcher's hair even tighter, pulling him closer to his back is pressed tightly against Butcher's chest.
"I'm feeling just fine. Especially when my good boy is making me feel as good as you do." Hughie excitedly whispers, raggedly rolling into each of Butcher's thrusts. He's going to match Butcher's energy today, he has to if this reversing act is going to work.
Butcher makes a pained and short grunt like he got punches in the stomach. Hughie feels giddy, this is exactly what he's been looking for. Just a few more pushes and he'll have Butcher under a leash, his hand in his hair turning into a whip to control the Brit with.
"You can't just say that shit to me." Butcher tries to pull back, he wasn't expecting what Hughie did to work so well, but that resistance is what lets Hughie know he's on the right track.
Hughie grins, nuzzling into Butcher's beard feeling the prickly hairs on his skin. "Of course I can say that to you. You know why?"
It's a rhetorical question, but it leaves Butcher hanging on his every word. Butcher swallows, and Hughie takes that as his que to answer.
Hughie mutters something into Butcher's ear, and he melts accordingly like frozen pudding left too long in the sun.
"Fuck. You're gonna kill me, Hughie." It's a warning. Forewarning that if he tries this again, he's going to finish.
Hughie plays innocent, his clear blue eyes helping him act the part. "What? That I want to leash you up and keep you like a dog? That's just natural, right? You're my good boy."
And just like Butcher had foretold Hughie, he spills inside him without remorse. His hands leaving dark bruises into Hughie's hips, the blood rushing to the top, leaving a reminder that'll stay there tomorrow and many days after that.
Butcher slumps over him and curses him out weakly, almost no power in his voice like his power cord got yanked out leaving him with no battery left. Hughie can only laugh as he shifts them over, laying side by side. He leaves small kisses on his cheeks, forehead and neck lovingly.
He dares to keep telling him pleasantries and not-so-pleasantries, and Butcher growls at those latter ones, but he can't really stop Hughie. Especially not when Hughie knows it has such an effect on him. He's going to take full advantage of this.
Revenge really did taste so sweet.