Sipping Through My Fingers 2.
Soldier Boy x Butcher’s daughter!reader
read part 1 here!
word count: 4.9k+
warnings: crazy daddy issues, soldier boy, cuss words
It was the gift of a nightmare she could not sleep long enough to have that living through one was filling in for. After the awkward interaction with Soldier Boy the previous night she had accommodated herself in the adjacent motel room. However the sleep was short lived as the banging on her door early in the morning came with an unavoidable invitation.
Hughie was left with Soldier Boy for obvious reasons and she had to attend yet another road trip with Butcher. Perhaps their first if she were to forget the trip from her first house to her boarding school where he’d dropped her off and never picked her up from. Not going there. She thought to herself as the endless road stretched on, “How long is this going to take?”
“Why? ‘er majesty’s feelin’ car sick?” Butcher scoffed as if she did not get her impatience from him.
“First you wanted me to fend for myself against Homelander now you need me to accompany you for an errand?” She complained, her elbow resting against the closed passenger side window.
“I don’t be needing you for anything luv, you just won’t be doing so well to be left with that old nutter.” Butcher explained, there was nothing fatherly or even humane about his relationship with his daughter. He was never going to be that person. That’s what he told himself at the irkness he felt watching her move away from Soldier Boy the other night. It was clearly not the odd ill-feeling of seeing his daughter with someone so deplorable. The possibility of something arising between her and Soldier Boy sat with him like spikes.
“Why? What did I do?” Oblivious to where his conclusion came from she questioned, “I kept him in one piece?”
“Sure did” he snickered, as if Soldier Boy needed somebody to help keep him in one piece. It wasn’t about that but he won’t admit to his parental side interfering. He never could because he could never recognise the father within himself. “Well, there we are!” He said pulling up to an seemingly abandoned gas station. Like everything else it seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Glancing at the time once he got out of the car and almost like clockwork, another car was pulling up. He saw her bracing herself as if for impact with her body language, “s’fine.”
Getting out of the car at the same time as him she leant against the door, waiting the intention of yet another long trip to be revealed. “Uncle M?!” Her eyes lit up as if in an instant when she saw who was getting out of the other car, he could barely close the door behind him before she rushed to the man, jumping at him.
“Oh get in here!” He reciprocated her hug, almost lifting her off her feet. It seemed like time was withering off them, Bucther may not have been the best father but his picker for people was so strong that he had MM, on a legal document she didn’t yet know about MM was her ‘godfather’. The first time she had ever met ‘uncle M’ was during butcher’s initial supe hunting squad days. Kidnapped off her grandfather’s suburb during her spring break to get the squad to back off, it was MM who rescued her even by disadvantaging their own mission because Butcher wouldn’t budge. It was that day and today, ever since MM had been present in her life. Referred to her as his “oldest”.
Graduation, school plays, grandfather’s funeral, MM was there. There weren’t a lot of milestones in her life growing up in a boarding school, raised by her grandfather from Christmas break to spring break. But however many could be there, MM was present. Going out of his way for attendance in her life often highlighted just how easy it would have been for butcher to do the same. Only he didn’t. With time she let go off the notion that her father was not present because her auntie and uncle were always cheering louder over his absence.
“God Monique’s going to kill me” MM said pulling away to get a good look at her, it had been a while since he had last seen her and he had not known he would be meeting her again anytime soon.
As glad as she was to see him again, her heart sank at the realisation that he was back in this buisness. “So you’re…back in all this?” She had to confirm almost hoping he was not back to the vengeance life and was running one favour for Butcher.
MM did not know how to answer that without disappointing her. “Your hair’s gotten so unruly.” He commented to shift away from the question, ruffling the top of her head.
Letting out a slow chuckle she internalised the answer he did not gave her but was received. So he was dragged back into this mess. “Proper little reunion. Ain’t that just beautiful?” Butcher asked as he walked away from the car and toward them, “brought a tear to me eye” he scoffed, “jolly good if we could get back on track though”
“You didn’t tell me this was your guest for Judy?” MM said shaking his head, to think he would be used to unpredictability from butcher by now.
“What’d she say then?” Bucther disregarded MM being offended he had not laid out his plan on him entirely, it was rather simple. Drop her off where he’d dropped terror off, at his aunt’s place.
“Vieille dame did not take to us kindly.” Frenchie spoke, he assumed this would be a short interaction before getting her for Butcher and the rest were not on the best of terms for now. “And she sent him back” he spoke releasing terror from his grasp.
“Oh bollocks” Butcher sighed in agitation watching Terror free from Frenchie and rush towards, her.
“Are you kidding me?!” With a gasp she lowered herself instantly holding the pup in her arms, Terror jumped and licked her enthusiastically. “No way-“ she muttered as she kissed her baby all over. Butcher stood to the side, deadpanning for he knew what was coming. “You piece of shit you told me he died!”
“Got you to stop phoning didn’t I?” It was an unnecessary trail from her to him every now and then whenever she would call asking for updates on the mutt.
She couldn’t bother to even look at him, so overcome with hugging her life long pet who she had to mourn for, thinking he’d died. MM witnessed that interaction, phased he would lie about her childhood pet dying. “That is way too low, even for you.” He commented but Butcher just rolled his eyes at the melodrama.
“Off you go then, mustn’t keep Judy waiting for breakfast.” Butcher motioned, he’d asked MM and Frenchie to clear the premise for his aunt Judith where he kept terror was seemingly the safest off radar house he could place her in. “Finally get ‘er wish, that old bag” when butcher lost his first wife to childbirth, it was beyond difficult for him to raise the baby. Always a mess, with the wailing baby, cleaning and feeding along with his grief. As poorly as he made work do, he raised the infant.
Kept her alive up until she was five, not the best textbook father surely. It was odd, looking at her face and realising just how much she had lost due to her birth but he used to refrain from admitting out loud or even to himself. Not celebrating her birthdays for the grief was too fresh, even after five years. Her grandfather when, came to know upon this notion intervened. For that was no way to raise a child, it was a fight and something his daughter surely had no knowledge of. But she could only remember growing up with grandpa, to butcher the man never even saw him a proper fit to marry his daughter let alone raise his granddaughter. An alcoholic battling with depression, a legal battle would’ve ended his chances to even see her. Eventually as she grew older the best and safest gift to her was his distance.
Judy, back then was offended that Billy never let her raise the child. Would get her wish now nonetheless. “She said no. And wants nothing to do with you.” MM briefed Butcher.
“That can’t be” he tilted his head, somewhat taken aback because his plan was firm to send her away.
“Can’t blame her” Frenchie chimed in and earned an unwarranted glare from Butcher. “Also won’t take Terror back, ever. Her words not mine.”
“Why didn’t you tell us the guest was her?” MM questioned crossing his arms.
“As if you’d let me ship ‘er off without poking your nose in.” Butcher scoffed, he’d have dropped everything to collect her let alone send her away.
“Why is she even here? With you, of all people?” MM asked again, unaware she was hunted by Homelander.
“Homelander knows.” She answered for Butcher and watched the light in his eyes shift.
MM let out a deep breath, he had a lot to say to butcher about dragging not only the people he loved into his darkness but also the people butcher himself was supposed to love. “And your idea was to send her off to some old aunt in the suburbs?”
“He wouldn’t be sniffing ‘round there” butcher said, to him it was as safe as the next place otherwise he wouldn’t have left terror there in the first place.
“You’re so full of shit.” MM scoffed shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it, “She’s coming with us.”
“No chance mate.” Butcher said, he knew it wasn’t safe with himself but it surely was less safer than MM over at the base where he was no longer allowed for the new grudge they held about him.
“I’m not asking.” MM emphasised.
“You think you and your lot of powerless Kimiko, drugged up Frenchie and little miss sparkles will hold against Homelander?” For it was sure that Homelander would find her at the heart of the city with this lot, first place he’d look. “Get back in the car” Butcher told her, she did not move.
“Anyone who has cared about her all her life knows you are the last person to trust to keep her safe.” MM saw no point in holding back, he knew that it was a purposefully the nastiest thing to be said to Butcher.
Butcher did not let it show on his face, like everything else but it was evident to look through in his eyes, his jaw clenched and a still body language as if he was so moved he’d forgot to breathe. It was no use reasoning with MM he figured, “you go with him, the blonde cunt’s gunna find you a’long with ‘im and the rest who can’t do fuck all to save you or themselves.”
“Don’t listen to him.” MM was beyond reasoning with the logic.
“There will be bloodshed and it will be on yer hands.” Butcher pointed at her, talking over MM because he too was stubborn to get his way.
“I am sorry…” she looked at MM, the last thing she wanted for herself was go back with Butcher even when she had another option with uncle M. But she could not take him up on the offer at the cost of putting him in danger.
“You know damn well he is just trying to get to your head.” MM countered, butcher was going even lower tapping at her worst fears for she was raised with this sense of ‘blood on her hands’ attitude because of what happened with her mother.
“Homelander will not hesitate.” She told MM, “I don’t want to go with him but I have no other choice. I will not risk your life.”
“It’s fixed then.” Butcher clasped his hand together, in a sort of show’s-over way. “Get in the bloody car.”
“I’ll see you soon alright?” Hugging her uncle M real tight she closed her eyes behind his shoulders.
MM pierced daggers into Butcher’s conscience as he look over at him behind her shoulders, patting her back, “you take care of yourself alright?” He placed his phone in her hands. “It’ll take just one call.”
She nodded, clutching the phone tight, god knows she’ll need it. With a snap of fingers for Terror to come follow, they parted their ways again. In the car ride back to the motel she had nothing to say to him. Letting herself sit with the silence of the cruelty he held for her as second nature. He too had nothing to justify for himself and simply didn’t want to.
—
“No no no, Terror drop it. Drop it.” She directed at the bulldog trying to make a mess of the food scraps scattered within takeout boxes Soldier boy had lying around.
“Ah shit” Ben spoke when he came upon the sight.
“Terror. Enough. Drop it!” At that the bulldog let go off the takeout wrapper and rushed to her, she grabbed him up on her arms, sat on the desk table leaning against the chair whilst Butcher and Hughie were across the room with some maps scattered out. They deemed Soldier Boy too technologically dumb to help with input of their search yet he insisted they do it where he can keep an eye on them.
“What the fuck kinda name’s ‘terror’?” Soldier Boy scoffed with his hands on his hips looking at the little shit revel in her kisses.
She paused, trying to think of exactly why her childhood pet had the name terror. Come to think of it she could not recall the exact reason, “probably because of a cartoon or something..”
“No” Bucther spoke, looking up from the maps, “It was the only name he responded to when we got ‘im.”
“We always called him Terror, that was his name.” She tried to correct him, as if she were to forget how long her childhood pet had that name.
“Not at first” Butcher shrugged, “it was going to be something dumb perhaps but then he only responded to Terror when I called you ‘lil terror.’ ‘cause you were one.”
“What?” Her brows came about together knitted, confused.
“It was always ‘go to sleep li’l terror’ getting you to eat ‘one last bite li’l terror’ you were an exceptionally pain in the arse toddler ‘cause you would never sleep on time, you were picky with the crushed bullshit. And every time I would have to talk to you over your wailing calling you li’l terror, that bugger would light up—so the name came from that.” He would have never in a million years would’ve believed that he would be looking back at his unlived life, reminiscing it back at her. There was a faint glint in his eyes just talking about those moments.
The moments she did not even know were there because for as far as her memory stretched there was no memory of him being a father to her in a way that mattered. “Oh..alright” at a loss of words she simply held to Terror closer.
Soldier Boy’s harsh low snicker brought her out of her stance, “and since when do men put babies to sleep and feed them?”
She closed her eyes in disappointment knowing this would not unfold something nice with him. “The ones with motherless children do.” Butcher snapped, surely a nerve was hit.
“I’ll call bullshit when I see it.” Soldier Boy huffed, doubling down.
“Why? ‘cause I stayed for me lil nipper?” The last person who Butcher would let look down upon on his parental skills was Ben.
“You stayed?” She scoffed, did he really think that not abandoning her since age zero counted as staying.
“Guys I think we need to—“ Hughie tried to intervene because he did not want the previous day repeated.
“You left me at grandpa’s, the only man who can ever claim he raised me and when I started to settle in well enough you dropped me off at boarding school.” She reminded him what it was like to be at the receiving end of his gracious presence.
“You think the fucker was sound in the head enough to let him raise you?” Butcher scoffed, from her mother, his first wife he’d known enough that the retired colonel ‘grandpa’ was not the best influence to have around. It’s not what she would have wanted and Billy himself was not equipped enough against his father in law to raise her himself.
“You took me away from him. Left me at the boarding school and you never visited once-“ she was interrupted almost quickly, he matched her volume too.
“That’s what he’s told you!” He pointed at her, Billy was already the worst man in the old man’s eyes when he married her daughter he simply became the devil when he fathered his grand daughter “he always saw me as devil-sent for marrying his daughter and an awful father with you but the cunt never saw YOU as someone who took away his precious daughter to come into this world. You took her away from him.” Butcher knew it was out of line and just as purposely done. “You took her away from me.” He added in a lower, quiet tone what carried a lot of weight.
By then silent tears were already streaming down her face. She was still holding Terror and the irony was that she had spent all the years the bulldog had on him in a life unlearning her hatred for taking, her own mother, his wife away from him. And yet she could not escape it, “Homelander let me go because he wanted you to watch when he kills me.” Through her tears she let out a humourless laugh “isn’t it ridiculous that he thinks he can kill something in me which you already haven’t?” Standing up to leave she stood in his way, “I hope you die and I get to watch.” It was the worst thing she could think of and she said it only to realise her entire existence was so fickle in his life it would make no difference just like her living or dying wouldn’t, just like it never did. Rushing out for her exit, she left to her room through the connected door slamming it shut.
Butcher stood in a tense contemplation of her outburst, he wanted to not let it show on his face but when he couldn’t prevent it he simply left the room himself. Rushing out with Hughie nagging back at him, following him outside.
Ben stood there in the aftermath of something his comment had started. It made no difference to him how strangers raised strangers. He had been out too long to grow a softer heart to situations like these however her face, instantly bloodshot eyes and a quivering lip trying the absolute hardest to talk through a meltdown. Her face. He could not seem to get it out of his head, all over the damn dog!
He sat his drink down decided to take matters into his own hands after all, he couldn’t shake away the feeling of being partly responsible. With a small stride to the door which connected to her room he turned the knob to open it but it was locked from the other side. “Open the door, sweetheart” his voice came out, not soft yet not a bark either. Just characteristically loud. He tried shaking the knob when there was no response from her, “It’s me! Come on open up.” He banged upon the door yet again. “If you don’t open up in five seconds I’m breaking it in.” He called out only to gain no response. Not even a shuffle of movement. With no other option he pressed his shoulder against the door and with one shove the whole thing came apart, he didn’t even apply too much of force to begin with.
“Cheap fucking thing.” He scoffed setting the door aside which came apart with one push, as he moved further into the room. Finding her curled up on the twin sized bed with the dog whimpering with a sad traditional dog look on its face at the edge of her bed. “You seriously can’t be crying over this?”
“Fuck off” she said without looking up from where her head was buried amongst her pillow, hiding her face and the tears he knew were there.
“I couldn’t even if I tried, the door’s broken.” He pointed out and snickered hoping she would find it funny. “Alright” he put his hands on his hips staring at her unwaveringly miserable. So much so that she won’t even look at him. Not that there was anything between them which would warranty that occurring, but still. He made a short pace back to his room and letting her to think he left her alone.
Only to come back with a glass, he nudged her shoulder with the glass, “Ain’t no better way to drown in your misery.” He offered her the drink, he made himself. Which was a lot for him in the first place even if she would not realise that.
Clearly she did not. Taking the glass from his hands, when he finally got to see her tear streaked face right before his eyes followed the glass that she threw across the room thrashing. “Okay that was the cheap stuff anyways but I’m trying here!” He huffed, at his wit’s end with her.
“Get out of my room!” She yelled at him, sitting up on the bed. This was the last moment she needed someone’s interference with.
“You can yell louder than that, from your diaphragm come on!” He talked back at a composed volume, yet not taking her seriously.
“I don’t want your shoulder to cry on and I don’t want your advice.” She tried to reason with him only to realise she would be the butt of that joke.
“Okay” he shrugged and when he moved it made the impression he might be leaving, instead he sat on her bed, next to her but still with some space between them.
“For god’s sake!” Whining in frustration she fell back on her bed, hiding her face in the pillow again. Hoping the blindness it provided form the world would take her in all the same.
“I know I’m the last bastard you wanna keep on doing this song and dance with. But you’re unlucky enough to keep ending up with me in tears and I wasn’t raised to be a pussy who can ignore a crying woman.” He spoke, hoping he had taken the glass she threw across the room for himself to get through this interaction easy. “Look your father’s an asshole. I’m sure you know this yourself, you crying tears in here all over your pretty face is not going to change any of what’s happened.” Only as the words came out of his mouth he realised just how bad he was at this whole thing.
She didn’t even make an attempt to move, With a sharp intake of breath he continued, “I was raised in a boarding school. We have that in common…” he trailed off hoping she would at least look at him now that he was being open about his own tapestry of life but when she didn’t he was almost glad because he wouldn’t want her to see his phased face as he recollects his lesser memories, “grew up in a wealthy South Philly mansion with twice of everything a boy would need. The boarding school was filled with other rich kids too stupid to know what to do with their money. Yet most of them would have their parents pick them up during spring breaks and a day out on birthdays—even the poor ones. A different chauffeur always picked me up and I would lie my father was in the car just not getting out because it’s too cold…as we got older the other kids saw through it. Who wouldn’t? I was young but I realised pretty quick that the money will never make up for a lot of things. It never did” he exhaled, the memories crossing his mind like a bad fever dream. That life was so farther away from him. “And neither will time…” he told her. For if she did not realise, even with time apart there was no redeeming what had already happened between Butcher and her, her childhood. Same way the money wired to his account for his father’s absence always bought another round for his pals but never pushed away the heavy lack.
Finally, as though his story had got to her or that she only wanted to see his face to test his genuineness about it. She turned around sitting up. Seemed like the later fell through given she didn’t kick him off her bed, a single tear making its way down her face and she wiped it quickly looking up at the ceiling, heavy moments spent in an anticipating silence. “I feel like a fake.” She let out, looking away from him. “I have had to raise myself to never need or want anything from him ever again…and when he told me all those things just now I felt like I was seven years old again right after he told me I took my mother to come into this world and that’s why all the other kids gets a birthday and I don’t, so what truly have I done with myself all this time-my entire life; if his words can still have the same effect on me?”
He blinked. Out of surprise that she considered that to be fake, it was ridiculously funny but he kept the laugh to himself. “You feel like a fake for that?” He had to confirm given how crazy it sounded to him, “these things take their sweet fucking time to be out of your system doll, it’s like the coke you get from a local park dealer—“ before he could go on his colourful choice of words made her let out a suppressed giggle which made his heart flutter. But he kept the notion to himself, as if the smirk making its way to his lips involuntarily wasn’t a sign enough “there’s that lovely sound.” He didn’t realise he was thinking out loud but didn’t mind it.
It got her to wipe her tears without more streaming down her face, at least for now anyways. “I don’t know what to say Soldier Boy you are-“
He interrupted her, “Ben.” He had a name. He had a name he wanted her to say as if the only one she knew. As if he only had it if she said it. “It’s Ben.” He had been Soldier Boy to so many awful set of people for so long.
“Ben” she repeated as if testing it out, shifting in her place on the bed, the distance between them measurable but not so far that he couldn’t dive into the colour of her eyes. Which was mainly because of how he sat, wide legged leaning against one thigh which was closer to her, regardless she straightened a bit. “You are the last person I would expected to give me a pep talk.”
“And when you’re crying the first thing I want to do is make you stop so I can kiss the daylights out of you.” Once again the filter connection of his thought process and his tongue favoured no filtering which made him say it out loud. Not that he was one of those coy boys who thought a million times before saying their piece to a pretty woman. That’s the thing about a pretty woman she can disarm you to say anything without thinking and if you’re thinking too hard you’re probably a homo because nonchalance is a weaker man’s weapon. That was Soldier Boy’s thinking. Ben was saying the words.
“Oh…” she was dumbfounded clearly because he sounded so truthful about it. As much as she wanted it this was the last thing she could afford. “What-? Oh-“
“God look at your face” he laughed, in her face, “I’m not going to kiss you right now. I got plenty of time to find a moment where I have to race you to it.”
“What? To kiss you?” His overconfidence in his charm had her back to her usual self and she didn’t even realise just how quick the shift happened.
“Uh huh” he had a smug expression on her face, “the day’s just around the corner sweetheart.”
“Okay.” She hated that she could not avoid smiling against his blatant flirting, “Just because I let you come here doesn’t mean you get to say anything that comes to your mind.”
“Haven’t heard that one in a while.” He scoffed shaking his head, at the obvious double meaning of her ‘letting him come here’.
“Get out!” Suppressing a chuckle she hit him with the pillow behind her back.
Followed with a deep chuckle of himself he finally got up. “Saved some fries from the last one if you want it.” He told her walking backwards to his ‘connecting’ room.
“Coming in a bit” she said letting out a huff at the normalcy of moments.
“—Coming huh?”
—
Let me know what you think of this PLS PLSSS!!! Also discuss with me about the boys finale im losing my mind and I don’t want to text my ex (the only person who watches the boys) about it KIDDING I’d never text that loser (sAvE mE)
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