I, Laney, am sitting on the couch. The apartment is dark, the light from the TV illuminating me slightly. For me, being the youngest, most emotional member of The Boys isn't easy, especially not recently. Everyone else is asleep, or so I thought. I have no idea that you're awake also, as I remain seated on the couch, nursing a bottle of liquor.
Noticing the other person still being awake and on the couch, the raven haired Brit raised a dark eyebrow slightly before quickly dismissing it. Lately, sleep had been evading him — or at least that was what it felt like — only allowing him to get maybe a couple hours of it at a time, and that was if he was lucky. Not that he’d be openly admitting it to anyone else — and certainly not to anyone else in The Boys.
For one thing, he wasn’t the kind of guy who complained about anything — and when he did complain, everyone automatically knew it was bad. Also, his stubborn nature wouldn’t allow him to do so, even if he wanted to. So, he’d have to make something up — or just say that he wasn’t exactly all that tired, despite being nearly exhausted a lot of the time.
“Oi.. Ain’t ya s’posed to be sleepin’?” His voice was a bit on the gruff side, though there was no real harshness to it.
I look over at you. "I could ask you the same damn thing." I wrap my hand around the neck of the liquor bottle. To be honest I couldn't tell you what it was. Vodka? Tequila? Whiskey? No fuckin' clue, I didn't read the label, I just grabbed it.
The TV light flickers and shows my face. I look like a hot damn mess right now. It's obvious that I've been drinking. Even without the bottle right there in front of me, you'd be able to tell.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ…” Butcher muttered under his breath when he caught a glimpse of the other’s features. If they didn’t want it to be way too obvious that they’d been drinking rather heavily — they weren’t doing a very good job at hiding it. Hell, they were doing a pretty piss poor job of it. “Already turnin’ to the alcohol a bit ‘eavy, eh?”
A smirk had already tugged at the corners of his lips as he made his way over to the liquor cabinet. Reaching out, he grabbed a few bottles, dragging them from shelf.
"You gonna join me in my depressive episode?" I'm half joking, half serious. Usually, despite my craziness and wild child nature, I'm a pretty responsible, sensible girl. Not now, though. Sometimes off.
Shrugging lightly with a shoulder, the raven haired Brit tilted his head slightly for a few seconds. “Might as well, eh?” The smirk widened slightly as he made his way over to a recliner, lowering himself down into it. Leaning back, he cracked open a bottle and lifted it to his lips taking a much needed drink. “‘Sides, it ain’t like either of us ‘as anythin’ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 to do.”
"What's your poison for tonight, cheif?". I lift my bottle to my lips.
“Looks like good ol’ whiskey.” Came the reply as he leaned back against the recliner, managing to get comfortable before lifting the bottle to his lips again to take another refreshing drink.
I snort a laugh, "I didn't even read mine. You mind checkin' the label 'fore you get too shitfaced?" I take a large swig.
A smirk had already started tugging at the corners of his lips as his dark hazel gaze shifted toward the bottle in the other person’s hand. “Kinda looks like ya might’ve gotten… Either vodka or tequila…” He squinted slightly for a few moments.
Or, maybe the person had gotten a bottle of whiskey just like he had. At the moment, the raven haired Brit wasn’t entirely sure.
I decide to take this moment to tease you. I lean back against the back of the couch. "I know you ain't the sharpest tool in the shed there, Butcher, but uh...I figured you'd at least know how to fuckin' read."
A rather blank and unamused expression almost immediately washed over his features — despite the fact that he had a feeling the other was teasing, judging by the tone of their voice. “Oh piss off.” Came the swift response, though there was no real heat behind the words. “Ya got your favorite kinda alcohol.”
I nod, and take another swig out of my bottle. "I'm sorry," I start my apology. I did something stupid today. Something reckless. Something that could've gotten me killed. And when I was scolded by the others earlier? I couldn't have been more dismissive of their concerns. "I'm sorry for today..."
Lifting his own bottle to his lips, Butcher took a refreshing drink. Still leaning back against the recliner, he allowed the back of his head to rest against the top of it for a few moments. Closing his eyes for a few moments, he took a deep breath before slowly letting it out. Upon hearing the apology slip past the other’s lips, he shook his head slightly.
“Ya could’ve 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒚 gotten yourself fuckin’ 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 out there earlier.”
The last thing I wanted to be to you was a reckless little girl who makes dumbass decisions, but I had done just that. "I know...", but you haven't even gotten started yet with the tongue lashing.
“What the fuckin’ ‘ell were ya thinkin’, goin’ out there alone like that?!” His tone was a bit gruff, as usual. “No, that ain’t right.. ‘Cause ya 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏’𝒕 thinkin’!”
Sighing heavily, Butcher lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose for a few moments before rubbing his temple. The girl might have been trying to help, but it didn’t excuse the fact that she’d nearly gotten herself killed because of one stupid and reckless decision made on her end.
He was barely even scratching the surface with the tongue lashing.
"I fucked up, alright? I'm sorry." I didn't mean it, though. Not really. Out of everyone on the team, you were my favorite. Maybe it's the daddy issues. Maybe it's the fact that I'm drawn to dangerous men. Maybe because you actually give me attention. Probably all 3, and they made me insanely loyal to you. I need your praise like a chainsmoker needs a cancer stick, and I'm willing to go to great lengths to receive it. That's what today was about. I almost got myself killed because I wanted to be a badass on our mission.
She had 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 fucked up. Was she actually sorry about it? Not likely. Sure, she could always 𝒔𝒂𝒚 she was sorry—but by now Butcher could practically see right through that whole facade she seemed to have going on, and he wasn’t particularly thrilled about it.
“Oh, ya 𝒅𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 fucked up. 𝑩𝒊𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆.” Came the quick, almost harsh remark. “It was 𝒔’𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 to be a quick in ‘n out. Everyone ‘ad their instructions that were s’posed to be followed to the T.” Even now, the raven haired Brit couldn’t exactly help but feel his anger rising within his system. “‘N what the fuck do ya do? Ya charge off into the fuckin’ midst of everythin’, forcin’ me to get your ass outta there before ya got yourself fuckin’ killed!”
His tone might have been a little sharper than he’d actually meant for it to be, but damn it, he was pissed. Maybe it was because he actually considered her to be a friend? Maybe deep down he cared too much about everyone on the team and when one of them nearly got themselves killed, he was the first to react? Or, maybe it was a bit of both.
Why she seemed to want to follow him around like a lost pup, he 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 didn’t really know. Maybe he’d never be able to figure out how anyone would consider 𝒉𝒊𝒎 to be their favorite one out of everyone on the team. He’d always figured the girl would prefer to be around MM, Frenchie, Kimiko, or even Hughie more than she’d want to be around a grumpy bastard like him.
If she wanted any kind of praise from him, nearly getting herself killed wasn’t the way to go about getting it. All 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 would do would get her yelled at and possibly into even more trouble than she was already in.
"I fuckin' know, alright? I fucked up. Majorly". I shift in my spot on the couch. The air is thick with tension and things debated on whether they'd be better off left unsaid. I stay quiet for a minute before patting next to me on the couch. A silent ask for you to come sit next to me.
“Damn fuckin’ right ya did.” Came the gruff reply, his tone still sounding majorly pissed. When it came to the team, the raven haired Brit generally didn’t care what they did—so long as they didn’t put themselves in any unnecessary danger or possibly worse. But if any of them fucked up majorly to the point of getting themselves nearly killed the way Laney had?
Well, that alone went without saying. How the hell could she have been so damn reckless—not to mention flat out careless like that?! It was a good thing Butcher had been there to immediately rush in, grab onto her, and yank her out of there to safety—otherwise, they’d likely be making funeral arrangements for the girl right about now.
She wasn’t the only one he’d ended up practically yelling at. He’d yelled at the others for letting her get herself put into that kind of situation—despite the fact that none of them had known she’d do anything 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 stupid. Granted, they all knew she’d do just about anything in order to get the raven haired Brit to notice her and she’d likely do even more to get him to either compliment or praise her—or even 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly let it out with a shake of his head. Butcher was still practically 𝒇𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈, though he tried to calm himself down. His dark hazel gaze shifted toward the spot on the couch next to her for a few moments. It was obvious that the younger female wanted him to sit next to her. Why? Probably because he 𝒘𝒂𝒔 her favorite member of The Boys. Why and how? That part he had yet to figure out.
He wasn’t always the easiest person to get along with. Most of the time, he was busy pushing everyone and everything away from him while planning on taking down Vought and their Supes—𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 Homelander—once and for all. Plus, he was usually brutally honest and blunt about everything and he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. On top of all that, he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy anyone wanted to be around all that often.
Yet, for some strange reason or another, the girl seemed to always want to be around him—even when he was clearly pissed at her for doing what she’d done. Maybe it was something he’d never truly understand. Finally, a heavy sigh escaped past his lips as he pushed himself back to his feet and made his way over to the couch, lowering himself down onto it next to her.
Leaning back, he managed to get at least somewhat comfortable before lifting the whiskey bottle to his lips again, taking another refreshing drink.
"I just wanted you to be proud of me, Butch...I always do." My head turns to look at you, eyes gazing at your mouth, waiting for your response.
Butcher stared at the woman with an incredulous expression already washed over his features. “Ya run ‘ead first into somethin’ dangerous ‘n nearly get yourself fuckin’ killed… All thinkin’ that I’d be 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒅 of ya for doin’ somethin’ as fuckin’ 𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄 as that?” A rather dry tone had already etched into his voice.
She always wanted him to be proud of her? Nearly getting herself killed was definitely 𝒏𝒐𝒕 the way to accomplish that. All that would do would land her into some pretty major trouble and it would end up pissing him off—which would likely end up getting her yelled at. Taking a deep breath, the raven haired Brit slowly let it out with a light shake of his head before he lifted the whiskey bottle to his lips, taking another refreshing and much needed drink.
“Unfuckinbelievable…” He muttered under his breath. Reaching up with his free hand, he rubbed the bridge of his nose for a few moments as he closed his dark hazel eyes. “That ain’t gonna be makin’ me fuckin’ proud of ya.”
I shift on the couch. "Then what the fuck do you want? Huh? Just tell me what you want, Butcher. I'll do it, I-". I get cut off unexpectedly by you.
“Ya already 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 the answer to 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕.” Came the almost growled response. His dark hazel gaze narrowed into a bit more of a glare toward her as his hands clenched into fists before opening back up again a few times.
I look over at you, confused. "Well I obviously fucking don't, or else I'd be doin' it already. God you're so damn cryptic and complicated." I sound clueless and agitated. Why couldn't you just be straight forward and honest with me?
A frustrated sigh escaped past his lips as he rolled his dark hazel eyes with a shake of his head. “Keep yourself outta fuckin’ danger.” Came the almost instant growled response. The woman on the couch was definitely not the only one who was agitated—he was just as, if not more, agitated.
Was agitated even the right word to describe it? Maybe where she was concerned, it was. For him? It was more like irritation.
I look at you as if you've just said something dumb. "Out of danger? Our entire fucking job description is danger, Butcher. The fuck do you want me to do?!" My voice raises a little, and so does my attitude.
𝑶𝒇 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆, the woman 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 remind him of that fact—not that he really needed to be reminded. He knew all too well just how dangerous the job was—never knowing whether any of them would manage to survive through every day. Sure, they could all try their best to make it—but eventually, their luck would likely run out and then? Then, they wouldn’t be getting lucky enough to make it out of anything alive.
“What the fuck do ya 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌?!” Came the growled response, his dark hazel gaze narrowing into an even harder, colder glare toward her. “Outta all the fuckin’ things ya coulda picked to do for a livin’, ya just ‘𝒂𝒅 to jump into 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 shitty life!”
"Don't. Don't start with that bullshit. You're the one who came to me." The audacity of you right now is pissing me off, getting me riled up. "You came to me, Butch! This is not on me!" I'm tense on the couch.
“Ya coulda walked away!” Came the exclamation, his hands lifting into the air for a few moments. “Instead of jumpin’ in ‘ead fuckin’ first bein’ all excited ‘cause ya thought I was finally noticin’ ya!”
Taking a deep breath, Butcher slowly let it out with a low, irritated growl before he shook his head. Sure, he might have been the one that had gone to her, but as far as he was concerned, she could have gotten up and walked away at any given time. She could have chosen to stay out of everything and not even bothered to jump into everything—almost as though she’d been dreaming of that moment.
Hell, she could have chosen to stick to a rather normal life instead of the chaotic one that they all lived in. Of course, it had been obvious right from the start that she wouldn’t have gone anywhere—not unless he forced her to or he decided to abandon The Boys. Granted, that was all purely speculation—there was really no way of knowing for sure whether it was true or not.
I scoff. "Yeah, stupid me, right? Thinkin' you'd ever throw a "Thank you" my way, let alone give me the time of day." I rise from the couch, ready to walk away. Away from this, because I know I'll probably end up saying some shit I shouldn't have.
“Gettin’ ready to run off as fuckin’ usual, I see.” Butcher remarked, his arms already folding over his chest in a somewhat casual manner—though he was still clearly pissed. When he was pissed, he tended to say things he didn’t necessarily always mean—but then, wasn’t it that way for everyone when they were pissed or even upset?
So, it wouldn’t really be all that surprising if things ended up being said that either one or both of them didn’t mean.
"You are fucking miserable to be around." I grab the bottle of alcohol by the neck. I press the opening to my lips before taking a generous swig, gulping it down.
“Yet, ‘ere ya are, stayin’ ‘round me, followin’ me ‘round like some lost little pup.” Butcher smirked a bit more before lifting his own whiskey bottle to his lips, taking a refreshing drink.
I pause, thinking for a moment before asking, "And if I quit?" The question is very obscure for me to ask, considering how loyal I've been to The Boys. The bottle is still raised to my lips, but I don't take another drink, not yet.
Butcher had raised the bottle back to his lips so he could take another refreshing drink when the question had slipped past her lips. If she quit? What the hell kind of question was that? Always before, she’d never even thought about quitting the team—especially considering the fact that she’d always been so fiercely loyal to The Boys.
Now she was thinking about quitting and just leaving to go her own way while they went another way? Something wasn’t exactly right there and the raven haired Brit knew it. His dark hazel gaze shifted toward her for a few moments. “Ya wouldn’t.”
You think I wouldn't quit? Really? "I would. In fact, I am. Right now. I'm done." Shit, I actually said it...
“So, ya wanna quit, eh?” His tone dropped to a dangerously low level. “Ya wanna go somewhere else to find that excitin’ thrill that ya claim to love so much?” His dark hazel gaze narrowed a bit more into a dark, cold glare. “𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒆. Go on, then. Find somethin’ else that ya love better than this shitty life we’re all livin’ in.” Came the almost snarled response.
Where would she end up going? What would she end up doing? How would she end up liking it?
Those were only a few of the questions running through his mind—though he was fairly sure he wouldn’t be getting any answers. Besides, it wasn’t exactly like it was any of his business anyway. They were just friends—at best—and that was exactly how it would stay, unless something happened to make them enemies.
"If I told you that once I leave out that door, I'?never coming back...Would you let me walk through it?" The look in my eyes is serious, threatening but in a sad manner.
Did he really want her to leave and never come back? Not particularly. Of course, he wasn’t going to stop her if that was what she really wanted to do. She was a grown adult who was more than capable of making her own decisions—just like everyone else in The Boys. Granted, those decisions weren’t always the greatest—or even the smartest—but that only proved that she was human, just like the rest of them.
“If that’s what ya really want, then I can’t exactly stop ya.” Came the almost snapped response before he took another deep breath, slowly letting it out with a shake of his head. Maybe it might not be the answer she’d been hoping for, but then he almost never gave her any answers she might be hoping for—so, it shouldn’t really come as much of a surprise.
I scoff. Typical. "So you're gonna just let me pack my shit and skadattle? After everything we've been through? As a team?" The way I say it, let's you know. I'm not talking about The Boys, I'm talking about you and I specifically. All the shit that we've been through...