[The kiss catches him off guard -- mostly because they don't generally kiss like that. Not soft and sweet, and he can't remember the last time Homelander's ever smiled quite like that.
At least in a way that feels like maybe it's actually genuine.
It's weird as fuck-- enough that Butcher isn't sure if he should scoff and tell him to knock it off or just... nudge Homelander lightly before he reaches for the knobs to cut the water.]
Right, then. Let's get out.
[He tells himself it's just easier to tolerate this shite. He knows how they reared Homelander up into the monster... it'll get him more loyal if Butcher gives him a little bit of softness instead of just the punishments. Not that he's entirely sure he's capable of soft anymore.
It's probably just a matter of time until his own monsters come out to play again.]
[He kind of expected Butcher to play it cool -- sweet and cuddly just isn't his style and Homelander respects that -- but he'll take what he can get.
He has to get his stupid fucking briefs all the way off before stepping out of the shower, throwing them in the hamper and grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.
When he opens the bathroom door, there's a very distressed-looking squonk behind it.]
Sorry, Princess.
[He pats the crying creature on the head a few times until it calms down, before glancing back at Billy.]
[He isn't the type of guy to go for sweet and cuddly, no. Best Homelander can hope for is Butcher not being a total fucking cunt on occasion.
He wraps a towel around himself when he's out as well, giving a huff at the squonk still whining at the door.]
You've spoiled her, y'know.
[Like he hasn't Terror...
At the question, he lets out a grunt and nods down the hall.]
It's in me room.
[Way he sees it, Homelander will probably see it one day. Might as well be under a controlled circumstance than before the devil asks one of them to dip their bollocks in acid or go carving off flesh.]
Just don't get weird about it. I'll-- try to fucking explain if you've got questions.
[He doubts there's anything he could do to toughen her up. She needs a bit of attention and reassurance every now and then.
Not that Homelander can relate to that or anything.
He goes into Billy's room, settling into his bed once he's located the list.
Anger, violence, murder... those are all easy enough to imagine. Billy isn't the chillest guy around. There are a few items he lingers on with mild discomfort, but mostly curiosity. He takes it all in stride until...]
[He smiles a bit. It's pretty rare to get a laugh out of Butcher, so he'll take it -- even if it's at his expense.
Fuck those pelicans anyway. They were really clogging up the sky.]
Mm.
So much for going around the world in 80 seconds.
[He puts the list down on the bedside table and turns towards Billy, taking a moment to just breathe him in, fresh from the shower but still smelling very... Butchery. It makes Homelander want to lick him.
But, he probably shouldn't.
...Not without permission, anyway.
Instead, he puts his hand on Billy's chest -- before glancing up to check if that's allowed.]
[Well, that's new, innit? He glances down at the hand on his chest before he shifts subtly, folding his arm behind his head and... giving Homelander a bit more room to stay close if he wants.
He can allow it, just this once.
As long as he doesn't get too ridiculous and cuddly. Not like the older him didn't try to use his lap as a pillow or lean on him often enough.]
He's quiet for a long moment, breathing slowly, listening to Billy's heartbeat, feeling the light sting of the fading cuts.]
I'm not supposed to want things for myself. [It's a belated answer to what Billy asked him before.] It's selfish. I'm supposed to... serve and protect and inspire, and all that.
[And anyway, Homelander fucking fails at a lot of that anyway, especially when he's from, doesn't he?
He shifts a little, careful to not dislodge Homelander from where he's settled though.]
They can't beat out all of human nature in you, lad, and wanting things... that's one of the most base urges. Fuck it, so's being selfish. [Maybe this cunt has a god complex, but he's not. So fucking far from it... so what's the point in keeping up the pretense?]
You got a chance here, y'know... to try to be more normal. You don't have to walk around in spandex, playing the fucking heroic supe all the time. You should take it before we're back where we came from.
[He wants to insist that he's not human, that he's practically a different species even if he looks like one of them... but he has a feeling Billy wouldn't take too kindly to that assertion.
But going by human standards, he's defective. Even more than he is by Vought standards.]
What if I'm not any good at normal? What if I'm just not... right?
[He's heard the doctors talking: unstable, deficient, violent, psychopathic...
[There's a slight twitch to his lips, a cruel smirk coming to them as he shifts a little bit closer to Homelander, reaches down with his free hand to brush along his jaw.]
But that's alright. So am I. Maybe being good or normal isn't in our nature... Doesn't mean we can't want things for ourselves, yeah?
[Or that they should try overly hard to be ideals they'll never live up to.]
Stop worrying about what Vought says. We've gone straight to hell... should be some freedom in that, for all the shit we're suffering.
[Homelander goes tense and rigid at the word monster, his gaze narrowing. He only relaxes, slowly, when Billy declares himself one -- and the touch helps, serving as nonverbal reassurance.
Billy can be pretty persuasive. If you look at it from that slightly skewed angle, hell doesn't sound too bad.
Freedom, huh?]
So you're saying I should lay down the cape and invest in some horns and hooves?
There's a difference, mate. You're so wound up on people seeing you as bloody-- Jesus fucking Christ in spandex. I'm not saying go out and murder everybody and level the hotel. You've still got to choose your battles.
[If Butcher minds the touches, he doesn't seem to show it. There's a sigh that passes his lips as he looks up towards the ceiling.]
You just don't have to walk around like you've got a stick up your arse either.
[Uh, rude. First, Jesus Christ in spandex is his fucking brand. Second, Would a guy with a stick up his ass let you jerk him off in the shower? C'mon.]
So I've got to broodily swagger around in a trench coat, is what you're saying.
[He huffs out a sigh, looking down at Homelander making himself at home. You jerk a guy off once and he thinks it's a free ticket to cuddle, apparently. He rolls his eyes at the cute comment.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I'd like that.
[A lot, apparently. He's never shared a bed with anybody, and the invitation fills him with a strange, tingling warmth.
He steps forward, to press his lips softly to Billy's.]
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At least in a way that feels like maybe it's actually genuine.
It's weird as fuck-- enough that Butcher isn't sure if he should scoff and tell him to knock it off or just... nudge Homelander lightly before he reaches for the knobs to cut the water.]
Right, then. Let's get out.
[He tells himself it's just easier to tolerate this shite. He knows how they reared Homelander up into the monster... it'll get him more loyal if Butcher gives him a little bit of softness instead of just the punishments. Not that he's entirely sure he's capable of soft anymore.
It's probably just a matter of time until his own monsters come out to play again.]
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He has to get his stupid fucking briefs all the way off before stepping out of the shower, throwing them in the hamper and grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.
When he opens the bathroom door, there's a very distressed-looking squonk behind it.]
Sorry, Princess.
[He pats the crying creature on the head a few times until it calms down, before glancing back at Billy.]
Hey... you said I could see your list?
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He wraps a towel around himself when he's out as well, giving a huff at the squonk still whining at the door.]
You've spoiled her, y'know.
[Like he hasn't Terror...
At the question, he lets out a grunt and nods down the hall.]
It's in me room.
[Way he sees it, Homelander will probably see it one day. Might as well be under a controlled circumstance than before the devil asks one of them to dip their bollocks in acid or go carving off flesh.]
Just don't get weird about it. I'll-- try to fucking explain if you've got questions.
[But no promises it'll be a good one.]
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[He doubts there's anything he could do to toughen her up. She needs a bit of attention and reassurance every now and then.
Not that Homelander can relate to that or anything.
He goes into Billy's room, settling into his bed once he's located the list.
Anger, violence, murder... those are all easy enough to imagine. Billy isn't the chillest guy around. There are a few items he lingers on with mild discomfort, but mostly curiosity. He takes it all in stride until...]
You killed a whale?
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[But that dumb cunt Deep shouldn't have put it in his way either.
He moves to sit on the other side of the bed, leaning back against the headrest.]
Sometimes shit happens, yeah?
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Aha. Sure thing, Ahab.
[He's not judging. He's killed his share of animals on accident, after all. Birds especially tend to get in the way.
Skewering a whale is just... pretty fucking far out there. Impressive, almost.]
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C'mon. I'm sure you've got an odd kill or two, yeah?
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Well, I... rammed into a flock of pelicans once.
[It made a hell of a mess, too.]
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The great Homelander, running into fucking pelicans.]
See? Like I said, shit happens.
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Fuck those pelicans anyway. They were really clogging up the sky.]
Mm.
So much for going around the world in 80 seconds.
[He puts the list down on the bedside table and turns towards Billy, taking a moment to just breathe him in, fresh from the shower but still smelling very... Butchery. It makes Homelander want to lick him.
But, he probably shouldn't.
...Not without permission, anyway.
Instead, he puts his hand on Billy's chest -- before glancing up to check if that's allowed.]
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He can allow it, just this once.
As long as he doesn't get too ridiculous and cuddly. Not like the older him didn't try to use his lap as a pillow or lean on him often enough.]
You getting tired, lad?
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[It's been an... eventful day.
He's quiet for a long moment, breathing slowly, listening to Billy's heartbeat, feeling the light sting of the fading cuts.]
I'm not supposed to want things for myself. [It's a belated answer to what Billy asked him before.] It's selfish. I'm supposed to... serve and protect and inspire, and all that.
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[And anyway, Homelander fucking fails at a lot of that anyway, especially when he's from, doesn't he?
He shifts a little, careful to not dislodge Homelander from where he's settled though.]
They can't beat out all of human nature in you, lad, and wanting things... that's one of the most base urges. Fuck it, so's being selfish. [Maybe this cunt has a god complex, but he's not. So fucking far from it... so what's the point in keeping up the pretense?]
You got a chance here, y'know... to try to be more normal. You don't have to walk around in spandex, playing the fucking heroic supe all the time. You should take it before we're back where we came from.
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But going by human standards, he's defective. Even more than he is by Vought standards.]
What if I'm not any good at normal? What if I'm just not... right?
[He's heard the doctors talking: unstable, deficient, violent, psychopathic...
Nobody's ever called him normal.]
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[There's a slight twitch to his lips, a cruel smirk coming to them as he shifts a little bit closer to Homelander, reaches down with his free hand to brush along his jaw.]
But that's alright. So am I. Maybe being good or normal isn't in our nature... Doesn't mean we can't want things for ourselves, yeah?
[Or that they should try overly hard to be ideals they'll never live up to.]
Stop worrying about what Vought says. We've gone straight to hell... should be some freedom in that, for all the shit we're suffering.
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Billy can be pretty persuasive. If you look at it from that slightly skewed angle, hell doesn't sound too bad.
Freedom, huh?]
So you're saying I should lay down the cape and invest in some horns and hooves?
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Especially if it involves keeping Homelander dragged down to Hell, even if it means staying and rotting away with him.
But there's that grin lingering on his lips and he seems rather pleased Homelander's considering all this.]
I'm not saying you should set out to be the biggest cunt there is out there, but just fucking relax, mate.
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You know, just a little while ago, you were saying I needed to work on my control.
[He edges closer, trailing a finger over Billy's chest in a slow, meaningless pattern.]
Now you're telling me to relax?
Seems a bit contradictory.
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[If Butcher minds the touches, he doesn't seem to show it. There's a sigh that passes his lips as he looks up towards the ceiling.]
You just don't have to walk around like you've got a stick up your arse either.
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So I've got to broodily swagger around in a trench coat, is what you're saying.
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[Well, maybe he shouldn't be so obsessed with his fucking brand, then.
... But alright, he did let him jerk him off. Maybe he's loosening up a bit.]
You've got a closet full of hideous fucking t-shirts, stick with those.
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You're awfully territorial about that smelly old coat of yours.
[He's squirmed in close enough to rest his head on Billy's chest, draping an arm around him.]
It's cute.
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[He huffs out a sigh, looking down at Homelander making himself at home. You jerk a guy off once and he thinks it's a free ticket to cuddle, apparently. He rolls his eyes at the cute comment.]
Alright, alright... get some sleep.