[He winds up on the couch, half-on, half-off, at least. He realizes belatedly that he forgot the whiskey in the bedroom somewhere -- either on the remaining nightstand or dropped on the floor after that little outburst.
Maybe he'll just pass out and wake up with a frustratingly annoying hangover in the morning at least.
At least he didn't give into the urge to keep prodding at Homelander, insult him until he got whatever fight he was itching for. Wouldn't have ended up all that great for him, probably.
[Yeah, no... he might end up puking, yeah. Bacon might be a little bit better than his morning Hot Pocket but not when it feels like his head is in a vice.]
[Well, he's gonna have to educate Homelander about hangover cures if he wants something better than bacon.
The bed is still full of squonk and snot, the bedside table is still in pieces, if Billy is looking for anything to remind him of last night. Homelander is sitting in the dining area, still shirtless, sipping coffee.
There was no milk.]
About eleven.
[Time for Billy to take a fucking shower is what time it is. Does he not smell himself?]
[He passes by the bedroom, stopping to stare for a bit. He can-- vaguely remember all that shit last night. Bits and pieces anyway. The squonk at least isn't actively sobbing into their sheets, but... ugh. Disgusting.
The smell of the bacon is making his stomach turn, so-- maybe he'll come back to that.]
Who patched up your back?
[Ugh, he can already feel the burning in his throat, the way his stomach rejects the idea of even coffee. He somehow manages to swallow a handful of pills he finds in one of the cabinets. It'll either kill him or make his head stop pounding. He's fine with either one.]
[Just some guy. He's not all that worried about the demon, but he does turn to look Homelander over. No new damage and he's up walking around -- the guy can't have been that bad at patchwork at least.
The apology gets a shrug out of him, not sure what to do with it.]
Forget about it.
[It's done now, and it isn't like he doesn't get it. The comment gets a snort and a roll of his eyes.]
I'll live... always do. Think I'm gonna go grab a shower before I try to eat though.
[Yeah, well... he's not planning to forget about it. It sort of implies that his presence means something to Billy, doesn't it? That's worth remembering.]
That's a good idea.
[On a different occasion, he might've offered to join him, but he doesn't need his wounds aggravated... or to be puked on.]
You can--check my back later, if you want. When you're feeling better.
See if anything weird's grown there.
[He flashes a little smile. That's not a weird thing to offer, right?]
Yeah, right-- should probably change the bandages anyway.
[He pushes a hand through his hair before he starts towards the bathroom. There is definitely going to be puking -- and another handful of pills. But at least when he finally emerges, he'll look a little more human.
He doesn't forget to scrub his mouth out before he comes back out, towel wrapped around his waist. He'll dress later.
[The puking would be hard to ignore even without super hearing, and with it... yikes. The whiskey can't be worth that, can it? Homelander drops the bacon onto a plate and toasts some bread, hoping that'll better accommodate Billy's stomach.
It's a relief to see him emerge in one piece, and once he's close enough, Homelander reaches to touch him, thumb brushing up the nape of his neck, just under his hair.]
[You'd think it wouldn't be worth it. But then you get to the bottom of the bottle and you just can't stop, it becomes an old friend and all that pathetic shite you hear old drunks down at the pub spewing like it excuses anything.
Butcher's just stopped caring about excusing anything. He's in Hell and he might as well embrace his vices.
Although part of him wants to hang on to being petty and angry at Homelander - and he doesn't even really know why. Or want to dissect the reasons more precisely. Even he realizes being a little fucking cunt isn't going to help. He still needs the baby supe in his back pocket.
Besides, he knows trauma when he sees it, knows trauma responses, and all that shit.
He sighs at the touch to his neck, tipping his head forward briefly. The comment gets a quiet, amused snort out of him.]
Yeah, yeah... I got it. You don't like the smell of whiskey.
[There's no heat behind the words, or at least no more than usual.]
[Not that Billy doesn't often carry a whiff of it, but his nose has gotten pretty accustomed to the pub-like atmospheric flavoring. In larger quantities, though, it's just overwhelming and obnoxious.
Since Billy isn't jerking away from him, he runs his hand further up, fingers pushing through messy, damp hair.]
[He's not entirely sure what's-- inspiring this, all things considered. But he's got just enough of a lingering headache that he doesn't seem to mind the fingers pushing through his hair... necessarily. The fingertips against his scalp feel nice enough, at least.
Is this Homelander being weirdly attached to him again? Trying to make up for walking out on him yesterday? Hard to say.]
And yet you live around me of all the blokes... [Even when Billy isn't drinking as much as he did last night, he definitely still drinks.]
[There's a short chuckle at that. Well-- he's heard that one before. He does end up turning his head a bit, tilting closer to Homelander, studying him curiously.]
[He smiles, a little unsure in face of the scrutiny. He is feeling better this morning. Billy's sober, for one. He's gotten some sleep, alongside Princess. His back isn't bothering him quite as much.]
I just--[There's a small, awkward roll of his shoulders.]--missed you.
[Missed him? It's bizarre for a moment, hearing Homelander of all people say he genuinely missed Butcher, weird as shit's gotten between them. But this is a fucking baby version who doesn't know any better.
It gets a predictable eyeroll, but he doesn't bite off any cutting remarks. He could. He could probably send him right back packing... but the urge to self-destruct and ruin everything around him is a little calmer than it was the night before, and he can admit having a supe in his back pocket is still a good idea.
Clearly, that's-- all that is.
And clearly the kiss he leans in for is for Homelander's benefit rather than his.]
[Maybe he is, a little. The kiss does a lot to soften the sting of the accusation, and it's hard to argue for absolute sanity when there's a shattered nightstand in the next room.
His hand drifts back down to Billy's neck, lips pressing a light kiss to his shoulder.]
[And Hell hasn't exactly improved his mental healthy any, has it? But right now-- things could probably be a lot fucking worse.
He turns himself towards Homelander, sliding his hands down to his waist to draw him in closer, careful to avoid anywhere he knows those lashes are at least.]
Works for us, yeah?
[And whatever the answer is, he's leaning in for another kiss - one he full intends on letting linger for a bit.]
[There's a soft chuckle, a warmth spreading through his stomach as Billy pulls him closer, so that they're chest to chest, skin to skin. It's a damn good thing Billy rinsed out his mouth after his disgusting little date with the toilet.
He sucks on Billy's lower lip, even scrapes his teeth on the inside of it like he's looking to provoke him, grinning as they part.]
[There's a low growl when teeth scrape over him, his hands sliding from where they'd settled at his waist to grope at his ass. Fucking around-- hadn't been quite what he'd figured his morning would consist of, but...
He's not gonna complain. Better to do that than have a sulking supe breaking tables all day.]
[He pulls away to give Homelander a bit of a push to get him moving.]
C'mon, sit down.
[The towel is carelessly taken off, Butcher letting it drop to the ground. He'd been intending on dressing after breakfast, but... well, something else has come up apparently.]
[Oh, come on. Billy clearly likes it when he's being a cunt. It spices things up.
Homelander moves to sit down at the edge of the couch, careful not to let his back touch the cushions, teeth pressing lightly into his lower lip at the sight of Billy bare.
It's actually kind of annoying sometimes, how attractive he is.]
[It'd be very disturbing if Homelander ever quit being a cunt, it's true.
And for now, he's careful as he goes to settle on the other's lap, straddling him. He has no intention of staying like that - they'll worry about better positions for the wreck of his back in a moment.
Right now, he's maybe just enjoying that look he's getting that he's going to try to keep it going long as possible. Leaning in, he brushes a kiss to the other man's lips.]
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Maybe he'll just pass out and wake up with a frustratingly annoying hangover in the morning at least.
At least he didn't give into the urge to keep prodding at Homelander, insult him until he got whatever fight he was itching for. Wouldn't have ended up all that great for him, probably.
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Billy will have the smell of coffee and frying bacon to accompany his hangover when he wakes up -- and if that makes him puke, then... good.]
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What time's it?
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The bed is still full of squonk and snot, the bedside table is still in pieces, if Billy is looking for anything to remind him of last night. Homelander is sitting in the dining area, still shirtless, sipping coffee.
There was no milk.]
About eleven.
[Time for Billy to take a fucking shower is what time it is. Does he not smell himself?]
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[He passes by the bedroom, stopping to stare for a bit. He can-- vaguely remember all that shit last night. Bits and pieces anyway. The squonk at least isn't actively sobbing into their sheets, but... ugh. Disgusting.
The smell of the bacon is making his stomach turn, so-- maybe he'll come back to that.]
Who patched up your back?
[Ugh, he can already feel the burning in his throat, the way his stomach rejects the idea of even coffee. He somehow manages to swallow a handful of pills he finds in one of the cabinets. It'll either kill him or make his head stop pounding. He's fine with either one.]
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[He fills up a glass of water. Billy looks like he's about to have the top half of his skull fall off.]
I'm sorry I took off, I wasn't...
[He trails off, not really having the words to explain where his head was at the time, only knowing Billy was upset with him for it.]
You look like shit, Billy.
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[Just some guy. He's not all that worried about the demon, but he does turn to look Homelander over. No new damage and he's up walking around -- the guy can't have been that bad at patchwork at least.
The apology gets a shrug out of him, not sure what to do with it.]
Forget about it.
[It's done now, and it isn't like he doesn't get it. The comment gets a snort and a roll of his eyes.]
I'll live... always do. Think I'm gonna go grab a shower before I try to eat though.
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That's a good idea.
[On a different occasion, he might've offered to join him, but he doesn't need his wounds aggravated... or to be puked on.]
You can--check my back later, if you want. When you're feeling better.
See if anything weird's grown there.
[He flashes a little smile. That's not a weird thing to offer, right?]
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[He pushes a hand through his hair before he starts towards the bathroom. There is definitely going to be puking -- and another handful of pills. But at least when he finally emerges, he'll look a little more human.
He doesn't forget to scrub his mouth out before he comes back out, towel wrapped around his waist. He'll dress later.
He's going for the coffee first.]
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It's a relief to see him emerge in one piece, and once he's close enough, Homelander reaches to touch him, thumb brushing up the nape of his neck, just under his hair.]
You smell much nicer.
[Positive reinforcement is important!]
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Butcher's just stopped caring about excusing anything. He's in Hell and he might as well embrace his vices.
Although part of him wants to hang on to being petty and angry at Homelander - and he doesn't even really know why. Or want to dissect the reasons more precisely. Even he realizes being a little fucking cunt isn't going to help. He still needs the baby supe in his back pocket.
Besides, he knows trauma when he sees it, knows trauma responses, and all that shit.
He sighs at the touch to his neck, tipping his head forward briefly. The comment gets a quiet, amused snort out of him.]
Yeah, yeah... I got it. You don't like the smell of whiskey.
[There's no heat behind the words, or at least no more than usual.]
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[Not that Billy doesn't often carry a whiff of it, but his nose has gotten pretty accustomed to the pub-like atmospheric flavoring. In larger quantities, though, it's just overwhelming and obnoxious.
Since Billy isn't jerking away from him, he runs his hand further up, fingers pushing through messy, damp hair.]
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Is this Homelander being weirdly attached to him again? Trying to make up for walking out on him yesterday? Hard to say.]
And yet you live around me of all the blokes... [Even when Billy isn't drinking as much as he did last night, he definitely still drinks.]
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[Nobody's perfect, and all that. Billy certainly isn't, and Homelander...
Well, they both know he doesn't quite match the parameters set for him, either. Maybe that's what draws them together.]
You're not bad looking. The accent's fun.
[His thumb circles the shell of Billy's ear, mouth curving in a small, playful grin.]
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Someone's in a better mood this morning.
[Probably good for the furniture.]
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I just--[There's a small, awkward roll of his shoulders.]--missed you.
[Is that stupid? It hasn't even been two days.]
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It gets a predictable eyeroll, but he doesn't bite off any cutting remarks. He could. He could probably send him right back packing... but the urge to self-destruct and ruin everything around him is a little calmer than it was the night before, and he can admit having a supe in his back pocket is still a good idea.
Clearly, that's-- all that is.
And clearly the kiss he leans in for is for Homelander's benefit rather than his.]
You really are fucking mad, y'know.
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[Maybe he is, a little. The kiss does a lot to soften the sting of the accusation, and it's hard to argue for absolute sanity when there's a shattered nightstand in the next room.
His hand drifts back down to Billy's neck, lips pressing a light kiss to his shoulder.]
What does that make you?
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[And Hell hasn't exactly improved his mental healthy any, has it? But right now-- things could probably be a lot fucking worse.
He turns himself towards Homelander, sliding his hands down to his waist to draw him in closer, careful to avoid anywhere he knows those lashes are at least.]
Works for us, yeah?
[And whatever the answer is, he's leaning in for another kiss - one he full intends on letting linger for a bit.]
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He sucks on Billy's lower lip, even scrapes his teeth on the inside of it like he's looking to provoke him, grinning as they part.]
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He's not gonna complain. Better to do that than have a sulking supe breaking tables all day.]
Let's take this to the couch.
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Think you can make it there on foot or should I carry you?
[Wouldn't want Billy to overexert himself after his whiskey guzzling marathon.]
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[He pulls away to give Homelander a bit of a push to get him moving.]
C'mon, sit down.
[The towel is carelessly taken off, Butcher letting it drop to the ground. He'd been intending on dressing after breakfast, but... well, something else has come up apparently.]
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Homelander moves to sit down at the edge of the couch, careful not to let his back touch the cushions, teeth pressing lightly into his lower lip at the sight of Billy bare.
It's actually kind of annoying sometimes, how attractive he is.]
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And for now, he's careful as he goes to settle on the other's lap, straddling him. He has no intention of staying like that - they'll worry about better positions for the wreck of his back in a moment.
Right now, he's maybe just enjoying that look he's getting that he's going to try to keep it going long as possible. Leaning in, he brushes a kiss to the other man's lips.]
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