Butchie prompt: butcher disassociates and hughie helps? I've never done an ask before sorry
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The telly's on, but it's just a blur of colors, the voices lost to the ringing in his ears. Butcher's not really paying attention- he can't pay attention. What's the point? Everything they do, all that work, all that fucking work, and it always goes wrong. Goes sideways, blows up, gets shot, gets killed, sets itself on fire. What was that stupid fuckin' quote? Butcher makes plans and Homelander laughs? Something like that.
He didn't hear his name. He didn't feel the hand on his shoulder until a tight grip shook him and a face blocked his view of the unwatched television screen. Who the fuck-
"Butcher?" Hughie said again. How many times had he said his name? How many more times would he try? It felt like there was no end to Hughie's patience these days. Butcher wondered what changed since that stint on the yacht. Where did Hughie find it in him to forgive an old cunt like him? "Hey! Hey, there he is. You okay?"
"Mm." He wanted to brush him off. Say something clever so Hughie would roll his eyes the way he always did and walk away muttering something under his breath. But Butcher couldn't even scrounge for a shitty deflective metaphor, his eyes glassing over again before Hughie gave him another sharp rattle. "Mm, stoppit."
"C'mon, man, stay with me." Hughie sat beside him, leg pressed against his, chest against his side. The warmth of his body was the first thing Butcher really noticed, the way Hughie's body molded around his like it was always meant to be there. "Hey, can you- can you do something for me right now?"
"Oh, piss off, Hughie-" Butcher moved to pull away but Hughie's hand held him in place.
"No, really. I need help." Hughie's hand slid from Butcher's shoulder to his neck, the older man now hyper aware of the warmth of Hughie's palm against his skin. "Honestly, I need you to tell me five things you can- uh- you can see right now."
"What the fuck are you on about-"
"Can you just do it? Please?"
Butcher growled, but looked around the room and tried to pick the stupidest things he could to make Hughie regret starting this little game. "The fuckin' telly, Frenchie's bleedin' food magazine, the table, the remote wifa busted number three. How many was tha'?" He ticked his fingers as he recounted, leaving his middle finger extended as he pointed at a lube bottle on the couch side table. "An' a family size bottle o'lube. Tha' do it?"
"It's not family sized." But Hughie glanced at it as if to make sure.
"Point still stands. We done now?"
"No. Tell me four things you can hear."
"Fuckin' christ! You're annoyin' gob for one. The blasted telly for two. Then there's the fridge doin' it's death rattle back there an' the AC's sounds like it's fixin ta give us all carbon monoxide poisonin'."
"Some- somebody should fix that, uh. Okay. Three things you can smell. Tell me three things you can smell."
"Well this couch smell like fuckin' cat piss, which is concernin' seein' as we don' go' a cat. The lo mein on the table's gettin' ready ta turn..." Butcher paused, breathing deeply before he looked over at Hughie. Strawberries. That fuckin' shampoo of his. "An' I smell you."
God fuckin' help him, Hughie blushed. "Right. Good. Uh. Really good. Now, uhm, now two things you can touch? Or- or feel. Physically feel. Either one."
Butcher stared at him, feeling his mouth suddenly run dry, feeling Hughie's fingertips twist a strand of his hair at the nape of his neck. "I..." He cleared his throat then, steadying himself. "I can feel you touchin' me hair. An' I can, uh." He reached out, laying his hand on Hughie's chest. Maybe he wanted tp scare Hughie off, maybe he was really hoping it didn't. "An' I can touch ya."
"Yeah, uh." Hughie licked his lips, taking a moment to gather himself and Butcher didn't blame him. He needed a breather, too. "And, finally, something you can taste."
The words left his mouth before he could stop himself, holding Hughie's eyes with a focus he hadn't had all evening. "I can think of somethin' I wanna taste right now..."
"Ma-maybe you..." Hughie's eyes dipped to Butcher's lip then back up. "Should..."
"Yeah," Butcher mirrored the glanced, finding himself leaning closer. "Maybe..."
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