Silence met my request, and I expected it. I also expected him to crush the water bottle and possibly follow up that by a string of curse words and threats against Homelander, Vought, and every supe we knew and didn't know. That didn't happen - so I had a momentary flash of fear that I broke him. That I had finally found the ONE thing that could actually BREAK Billy Butcher.
"Billy?" I chanced a glance up at him and caught him staring down at me - looking at me as if he wasn't entirely sure he could see me, or maybe as if he wasn't sure WHO I was. "Billy?"
"Ronnie," he sounded like he might need a drink of my water. "Veronica," ut-oh, "why the bloody hell do you want a pregnancy test?" Not angry, not screaming, more like - building toward wanting to rip Homelander's cock and balls from his body with his bare hands. Fair, very fair.
I needed to calm him down, even if he LOOKED calm. Actually that was the truly terrifying part - he LOOKED far too calm, as in eerily calm. SHIT.
"Hear me out," his nostrils flared. Alright, he was listening. "Remember the first time -" Eyes narrowed, shit, wrong tactic. "I just meant, how I went HOT, very hot." Nothing, but at least he wasn't grabbing a crowbar or rushing off to blow up Vought. "Well, while I was passed out, I had a dream -"
He face started to soften, from tense and frighteningly calm to somewhat confused and a little bit - oh fuck, "a dream?" He started to smile and I knew EXACTLY what he was thinking. "Ronnie, you had a dream and you think -"
I sighed. "A dream about EVERYTHING the doctors, labrats, and I talked about concerning BIRTH CONTROL, you big hairy goon!" I smacked him and he rolled his eyes. "Think about it, Billy. I've been a rollercoaster of hormones lately," he looked down at him, pulling me closer and holding me while I explained. "I'm not just talking about our hiccup over Ryan, but my first visit with him -" The absolute heartache I had - I'd SOBBED about it, and while I would have felt deeply for him, that wasn't exactly ME. "Am I really the type to just BURST into tears, Billy?" He waited for me to go on, clearly not willing to accept my superior knowledge of my own personality. "OK, smartass, the fact that I did go off the rails over our diverging opinions about him and his chips -" he considered it and shrugged. "I cut you off, I kicked you out of our BED, Billy." He sighed. "And then, today, I woke up so damn hot and achy that I swear I felt like I SHOULD be steaming up every damn window in this house - sound familiar?"
"You ain't puking your guts up, though, are you?" He really sounded smug, like with that ONE point he fixed me.
"Every pregnancy is different, Butcher," I rolled my eyes. "Who knows? Maybe I WON'T this time." Please God, I hate vomiting, if I am pregnant, DON'T make me do that again?
"A pregnancy test?" He was staring down at me, weighing his next argument. "If I get you one, it ends the debate when it's negative."
"OR begin a new one when it's positive." I realized, with a flash of worry, that we just came to a new crossroads - Billy and parenthood. We only JUST got through our ordeal over Ryan, and NOW THIS?