Before everyone automatically assumes that Homelander had come to visit, or that the unknown brain buster had decided to make a house call, let me assure you we were NOT that lucky. Oh, no, not even close. Because, as we rounded the corner, we came face to face with something much, much worse.
"Good evening, Mom." I sighed, tossing my clutch onto the end table and thinking that I was NOT in the mood for the lecture that was coming and wondering for the first time WHY I had the idiotic fucking idea to give my parents a spare key to my fucking house. "Dad." My father had been shadowed in the chair tucked away in a dark corner.
My mother, the wonderful society woman that she was, sniffed at me as she raked over my entire ensemble top to bottom and back up again. Fuck. Her eyes landed on Billy, still close at hand and I felt the urge to scream as I could see her dismiss him just as fast as she would a driver. How the fuck did we miss their car, I wondered?
"We parked in the garage," damn it, the woman could read me like a fucking book. "I thought it best, in case you chose to leave instead of facing us."
Another sigh and I sat carefully down on the sofa and pulled Billy's hand so he'd join me. If I couldn't escape, then his ass was stuck here too. "Face you?" I asked, smiling slightly as I felt Billy's fingers link with mine. "Why are you making it sound like you're here for an intervention?"
"Because, young lady," fuck, Dad's tagged in. "Your actions tonight, and at the club, are completely out of line with how we raised you." Wait, what?!
"My actions tonight?" I raised an eyebrow. "For fuck's sake," my mother hissed in a breath at the curse word, but I carried on. "Did that utter pansy actually call you and tattle on me?" Oh my God. "And what the hell are you talking about with my actions at the club?" I shot a look at both of them. "I have a JOB. It takes precedence over some nonsensical bullshit auction. An auction, I should remind you both, that I DIDN'T want to attend. Take me off the roster for the 'club'," I snarled the word, and was gifted with another hiss of breath from mommy dearest. "Take me off the Christmas list for the elite bullshit you drag me to every single fucking year," a gasp this time. "As for the woman you raised? I would imagine that normal parents would be PROUD of a woman who stands up for herself, who earns her own way, and who, when seated with a pompous asshole who won't let her get a fucking word in pays her fair share and leaves."
My mother's mouth opened, but this time it was Billy's turn to speak. "I think it's time for you to go." My dad started to cut in, but one look from Billy Butcher and he stopped. "Now."
Grabbing her purse with an air of absolute disgust, a feeling of disgrace, and a look of disappointment tossed in for good measure, my mother rose to her feet and nodded to my father that it was clearly time to depart. Before she took another step, I asked for the key back. Her eyes shot to Billy again, but I insisted. Thin lipped, she pulled it out of her purse and tossed it on my coffee table. We heard the garage door open after the door connecting it to the house clicked shut and I sighed. Fuck.
"Did I overstep?" I shook my head. "I just-" he sighed and pulled me onto his lap, his hand curling around my thigh to hold me tight. "Do they always-"
I snorted, and looked up at him. "You managed to get rid of them. Thank you." I smiled and kissed him lightly. "Yeah, they're always like that. But tonight? I think they really thought that John could end up-" He growled at the thought of what they might have thought John could have become in relation to me. "Delusional. Not a trait one would want in their parents."
"As long as it skips a generation," I felt him shift under me and realized what he was inferring. Oh. "If you wanted kids, that is." He sounded strangely unsure again, a tone I really hated to hear coming from him, since confident bordering on cocky Billy Butcher was my favorite.
"Kids?" I bit my lip as his eyes held mine in a heated look. "All I really want right now, Billy, is more dessert." And with a squeal I was in his arms and he was stalking to my bedroom to make sure we both got more treats.
Morning dawned, bright and early, and I didn't wake up alone. Billy was still out, on his back arms above his head, and I took a moment to study him. His face, in sleep, was oddly innocent looking. Soft and sweet, two words that most people would never use to describe him, but that worked on the image I was graced with in my bed.
I was trying to decide if I wanted to leave him and grab the shower that I desperately needed after the exercise we had before my date and then after it, when he shifted, and his eyes fought to open. "Morning," my voice was quiet, unsure of how dangerous he was upon first waking, since he'd beaten me to it the time before. I knew, from past experience, that men with a military background didn't always react well to company upon first waking.
"Hey, you," his arms reached out for me, pulling me over his body. His hands moved to cup my face, pushing my tangled hair out of the way. His eyes, open and focused seemed to be drinking me in. He was pulling me down so our lips could meet, but I held back. "Veronica," it sounded like a warning and a promise, but I shook my head.
"I smell." Wrinkling my nose, I sat up. "And I can only imagine my breath, so NO kissing until-" I hopped out of my bed and out of his reach. "A shower and tooth brushing," he caught me as I crossed the threshold into my bathroom, his bare body tight against mine. "You joining me?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely." And we showered together again, and he seemed happier than one would assume when I tossed him a spare toothbrush after.
What would one assume that Billy Butcher occupies himself with during the weekend? Well, I can tell you for a fact, that when he stayed over at my house, he was oddly domestic. He helped me make meals, we watched television, he picked out the next color for my toenails. He literally was completely calm and anyone who happened to visit would have thought we did this every day or weekend. It was just that natural. And weird, let's be honest, it was a bit weird.
No, we didn't screw every second of the day, even Billy Butcher has to recharge his batteries now and then.
We talked about things that wouldn't have come up during work. He told me about meeting his wife. He told me about his dog, who was staying with his aunt. We talked about my college years, and how the friends that I'd grown close to had all dispersed after school. We didn't talk about work at all. Instead, like a reverse of a normal couple, we started to get to know one another.
"No parmesan cheese?" He asked as we were enjoying take out from my favorite Italian place. "On anything?" He looked like he was shocked, and most people were by me at one point or another.
I grinned, tucking into my ill named favorite dish since I always had modified to suit my tastes. "It smells like rotten feet, Billy." Wrinkled nose, I took a bite of my chicken. "Mozzarella or provolone is much better."
He shook his head and took a bite of his own pasta. He hummed his approval and I smiled. "My-" his eyes met mine and he looked like he'd seen heaven. "This is phenomenal."
After dinner, I thought he'd beg off, want to go home and change clothes, or even have time to himself, but he pulled me into his arms and kissed me in the way I was learning was his version of stoking the fire until we were locked together with nothing between us but air.