How would a normal person unwind after a day of learning that a trio of assholes literally stood over her body while she was bleeding out basically watching to see if she was going to go "BOOM" and then learning that a little boy had three bleeping microchips inside of him to keep a part of his being neutered because it was easier than teaching him how to control himself?
I'm not asking because I'm clever and want to brag about my ways, I'm asking for ideas. I was completely fucking twisted into a tight bundle of nerves and tension and Billy wasn't much better. Even knowing that there was a way to inhibit supe powers that didn't include packing their poopers with C4 didn't really completely bring him back down to less amped Butcher levels.
We called Mom from the office, asking her to keep Terror overnight. Whatever she heard in Billy's voice, or mine when I got on to tell her everything was fine, we just needed a night to ourselves, she didn't pry. We picked up take out, and if you ask me what kind - no fucking clue. I'm still not entirely sure we ate it. All I know is that the drive home was a feat of muscle memory. Getting inside, eating (if we did it), locking up the house for the night, all of it was literally just from routine.
Once the doors were locked, once night fell, when we were alone and secure in OUR house, away from everyone and everything, though? That's when I didn't need ideas for how to unwind after anything with Billy. Because that's when our real muscle memory took over, and when his hands reached for me, we looked for a distraction from the reality of the shit show that surrounded our bubble. Outside of Billy and me? We knew we couldn't be certain of the answers to any of it, or how it would turn out, but here, as his fingers slid down my bare spine and mine danced up his biceps, which I would swear that some sculptor had seen in a vision and based those Greek gods on- here we could be certain of.
Billy Butcher and Ronnie Taylor. Together. This was something I would be the farm on. Time and time again. Because we'd faced down death and beat it. Repeatedly. What could possibly pull us apart after that?
We woke up, tangled limbs and sheets. My face pressed tight against Billy's chest, his arms wrapped around my shoulders holding me tight against him, not a hair's breadth between us. The sun was barely cresting the horizon, but we were waking after a well earned rest that came after psychically demanding everything we dared to from one another. Knowing damn well the other would answer with a challenge.
The night hadn't been about rewards and gold stars, even if we'd both seen celestial bodies, it had been about remembering that throughout everything that the world threw at us, we had one another. And when push came to shove, we would always be the best distraction for one another.
"Hey you," I smiled into the warmth of his peck, the growl of his voice harsher this morning with hoarseness from overuse and I liked to think I helped cause it. "Don't know about you, Ronnie, but I'm tempted to call in sick."
Chuckling into his skin, I didn't fight my urge to kiss the smoothness of it. Salty from a well earned sweat, and uniquely Billy, I propped my chin so I could look up at him. "Quitter." It was a mocking dare, but honestly I was pretty damn sore and I hoped he'd call my bluff and roll me over and make me forget I dared utter the damn word.
His smirk coupled by a flash of those white teeth of his and I was on my back, making me wonder if he could read my mind. "Not hard to do, Ronnie, you're practically telepathic when you want me." I gasped as our bodies joined, tender from our arduous activities overnight, but Billy knew me too well to give me an inch of leniency. "Tell me this ain't what you were hoping for." His breath fanned hot across my face, and instead of answering him with words, I arched up and his forehead came down, meeting mine. "That's what I thought."
We didn't call in sick. We are actually adults, even if we act like sex crazed teenagers - A LOT. We got showered, dressed, and we even ate breakfast. We managed to get to work earlier than usual, simply because we'd been HORRIBLE pet parents and left Terror with his grandparents all night, but Billy and I promised each other that we would not only stop and get him on the way home, but we'd stop and grab him a treat first.
"Not a stuffy," I muttered, thinking that someone had to put their foot down about Terror's sexual deviancy before it got out of hand. "He can have a bone or a box of nibbles, but NOT another STUFFY."
Billy was grinning a little too widely to allow me to believe I was winning the argument, but we were in the parking lot and work was a reality that couldn't be put off. Since our only avenue for the video sent me would be to have the trio who arrived first enhanced, hopefully so we could do facial recognition on at least one, should some tech magician find an angle that showed one of them NOT shielding themselves completely, we sent that on its way and Billy fired up the drone footage that they'd shot of Ryan's neighborhood.
We must have watched it fifty times, even with the break for lunch - longer than usual because I found a specialty pet store that we stopped by to grab Terror some guilt gifts - and the verdict was simple. Ryan's new placement was shittier than either of us had considered. Becca might not have had the best option, with Vought's little cookie cutter make believe shit, but this? This wasn't even that.
"Facial recognition has the tutors as teachers, or at least they have certificates to teach." I'd brought up the man and woman's information, throw away lower level agents. "Nothing special, they've been in the CIA for years, utilized for non-dangerous assignments. This is right up their alleys." The neighbors bothered me more. None of them were recognized. None. "Not a single one of these people come up in anything, not CIA, FBI, NSA, OGA." I sighed and sat back, licking my lip and trying to think of another avenue. "Why populate the neighborhood with anyone, let alone untraceable people? While you happen to be inhibiting his powers?" If they were, which I was starting to really lean toward.
Billy was looking out the wall of windows, eyes not focused on anything in particular. "Going in with you," I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. "It'll be the first time I've seen him since -"
"I know," I could have moved to him, curled into his lap and distracted him, but not now. Becca was in his head, his vision was on her, his last moments with her and Ryan. He didn't need me muddling that up. "I know it'll be the first time, but he's a little boy who is all alone and he has no one, but you." I hated to say it, to weaponize it, but it was true. Ryan had no one, and he bore Billy's name. And a promise his mom forced out of Billy. That was it.
"What if I look at him -" Billy stopped, eyes closing as he took a deep breath. "And I see HIM."
"You won't." I wanted to feel more sure than I did, but I wasn't. I could only hope that having me next to him, knowing that when I looked at Ryan I didn't see Homelander would somehow help, but I couldn't swear. "And I'll be beside you."
"Until ya get sick of me," he turned then, eyes open and blazing when they met mine.
"There you go, making me promise to become immortal," I shook my head, even as he was reaching for me, needing so badly that reminder of us, and our permanence.