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Well, there it was.
Butcher sighed and closed his eyes in resignation. It had been a long day, longer than it had any right to be, and this was the very last thing they needed. Then again, it was his own fault for insisting on staying at the dingiest, most nondescript motels they could find in order to stay under the radar. An inevitable consequence of going to places nobody frequented was that the staff gave less than a shit about customer service. Rightly so, they probably didn’t get paid enough to be cognisant on the job, let alone have any inclination to actually work. This unfortunately didn’t change the fact that getting a room which they had not asked for was a gigantic pain in the ass or that Butcher was too exhausted to correct the issue.
“They gave us one bed,” Hughie said defeatedly, as if Butcher hadn’t caught sight of the problem as soon as they’d entered the room. He brought a hand up to his temple and rubbed it slowly in a circle. “You think Soldier Boy will switch with us?”
That was a stupid question to ask. Soldier Boy would sooner rip them limb from limb than give up his own comfort on their behalf. Of course Hughie knew that, it was a rhetorical grasp at the only straw they had; evidently hoping for the impossible was easier than accepting the truth.
With a clear dose of sardonicism, Butcher snorted and shook his head. “Figures they’d fuck up and give us a single.” He stepped forward and slid off his coat, throwing it over the dark green living chair that was tucked in the corner. In the background Hughie watched him, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Butcher countered, walking over to the fridge and going straight for the minibar. He pulled out a small beer bottle and promptly cracked the metal cap off it with his teeth. “I’m making myself comfortable.”
Hughie frowned and crossed his arms over his chest in irritation. “We can’t stay in this room, how will both of us sleep?”
A sigh was threatening to push it’s way out of Butcher’s lungs, but he didn’t allow himself the release. Instead, he lifted the beer to his lips and took a healthy swallow of the amber liquid. It hit his tongue with a coldness that curled around his mouth and left a tingling sensation from the carbonation. When he lowered the drink Hughie was staring at him expectantly. It was the gaze of someone who wanted a specific answer, and if Hughie didn’t get it, Butcher could see the conversation was going to get dragged to hell and back. He really was far too tired for this.
“I’ve already paid for the room. We’ll just have to deal with it,” he said, turning away from Hughie and walking over to the couch. As he sat down on it he felt the hard unforgiving cushions that had been compressed from years of use and groaned internally. Guess it wasn’t just going to be a long day, it was going to be a long night too.
Hughie rolled his head back and let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl. “I’m not sharing a bed with you.”
That got a chuckle. Butcher placed his beer on the coffee table and began kicking his boots off. “Don’t worry mate, I’m not sharing a bed with you either. Gonna be right here on the couch.”
If there was ever a time a cartoon spring sound effect could have been applied to reality, it was over the sheer speed at which Hughie snapped his head back up in horror. “You can’t be serious. There’s no way you’ll get any sleep on there – hell, you won’t even fit on it, your legs will be hanging over the arm!”
It was amusing the kid was acting like Butcher had never slept in uncomfortable places before. With the amount of times he’d stayed in his car for the night or foundd some discreet place to squat while on jobs, he’d learnt to pass out anywhere. Sure, it wasn't pleasant, but it was possible, and that's all he really needed. “I’ll be fine. You worry about yourself.”
Hughie looked left and right, scanning the area for… Something. If Butcher didn’t know better, he’d have thought the lad was looking for something to knock him over the head with, but Hughie wasn’t savage or cruel enough to do that. Eventually, the kid stopped surveying the room and let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Why couldn’t they give us two beds? It’s not that fucking hard to listen.”
“You can stay up all night deliberating on why the guy at the front desk gave us the wrong room and why shitty things always happen to you, or I can save you time and give you the short and sweet of it.” Butcher paused and took in Hughie’s unimpressed expression before continuing without waiting for an answer. “The universe is cruel and hates all of us. Life is nothing but pain and has no meaning.” Hughie tilted his head to the side in a sarcastic, unspoken ‘really?’ and Butcher had to resist the urge to laugh. “And the guy who gave us this room is an idiot.” He raised an eyebrow. “That answer your question?”
It was evident by the twitching of Hughie’s lips that he was trying to act annoyed at Butcher’s flippancy, but he could only fight it for so long before his masquerade faltered and his lips turned up in a smile. “Fine, you win.” He shook his head exasperatedly. “Just don’t complain to me about your sore back tomorrow.”
Butcher grunted in acknowledgement and picked up his beer to take another swig. That was enough for Hughie, who finally let his guard down and trudged his exhausted body over to the uninviting motel bed. With a lethargic groan he flopped himself face-first onto the stiff, springy mattress and took a moment to settle before flipping over and beginning the process of stripping himself of clothes. With the side-effect of his teleportation powers he’d become desensitised to nudity around other people, and much to his chagrin, Butcher had been forcibly desensitised as well. After witnessing Hughie run around completely bare for the entire world to see so many times, it had become a nothing issue. One could only look at someone's dick so much before the shock of seeing it wore off. So Hughie had taken to sleeping nude in the hotels, not caring in the slightest about being exposed. For what it was worth, Butcher never commented on it or seemed put off, he simply went about as normal. In a way, it was quite liberating having this freedom, but Hughie would never admit it. Tonight, Hughie’s brain was so foggy and his eyes so heavy that even if Butcher made a fuss he was too tired to care.
As soon as his shorts were off – he always went commando for convenience – Hughie's eyes began to close, the fatigue fully taking over his body and sending him into an instant slumber. Across the room, Butcher looked on as he sipped his beer. The orange glow of a nearby lamp was the only light, and it framed his profile in a soft hue. They both deserved a break – anyone would after dealing with Solider Boy for an extended period of time – and as much as Hughie was frustrated about the bed fuck up, Butcher was just happy to have anywhere to lay his head down; Tipping it back, he finished off the bottle with a few good chugs, discarded the empty vessel on the table and proceeded to curl himself onto the stiff, uncomfortable couch to settle in for the night.
A few hours passed like this, with the two men sleeping soundly. Of course good things never last and a disturbance reared its head in the most unpleasant of ways. After spending much longer than he should have in one position, Butcher went to shift himself onto a better angle, but the moment he moved a sharp twinge – definitely a pinched nerve – shot through his back. With a jolt he snapped into consciousness and let out a loud gasp. “Fuck.” It was just his luck that tonight of all nights was when his spine decided to rebel against him. Hoping that it was just a one-off, he tried to move again and another stab of pain coursed through him. Great. This was just fucking peachy. If he had any hope of stopping this from becoming a full blown slipped disk he was going to have to sit up - there was just no two ways about it. Getting old well and truly sucked ass and this was the proof in the pudding. With a good amount of determination and grit, Butcher braced himself and pushed his body into an upright sitting position. The pain wasn’t as bad as he'd anticipated, with only a minor twinge hitting his lower back, but that only offered minor relief since he knew that he was far from being in the clear.
With a sigh he looked over at the bed. Hughie was wrapped under the covers, snoring loudly; His hair was a messy mop of flattened ringlets and one arm was poking out of the duvet. Butcher pressed his lips together in thought. Neither of them wanted to share a bed, but he wouldn’t be good to anybody if he couldn’t stand. As much as Hughie had been irritated by the situation earlier, he would surely have to understand… Right? Oh, who was Butcher kiddig, he was a fool if he believed he would ever hear the end of this. It pained Butcher (figuratively and physically) to admit Hughie had been right, and he knew he was going to cop flack for it, but he really couldn’t put his back out; They had places to go, people to see, shit that needed to get done. Whatever, it didn't matter what Hughie thought - he'd just have to accept it and Butcher would have to take the consequences on the chin. There were more important things at stake right now.
He tentatively lifted himself off the couch and made his way over to the bed as quietly as he could. Hughie’s snoring floated through the air and became louder the closer he got. That was something Butcher would have to ignore, but then he' d managed okay all the other nights they’d shared a room. With extreme cautiousness, he lowered himself onto the bed, careful to avoid knocking into Hughie – he was still naked after all – and did his best to get comfortable without setting his back off again. It was naïve, but Butcher thought, just for a moment, that he’d successfully slipping into the bed without being noticed; that was before the quietness of the room registered in his brain, to which realised with slight panic that Hughie had stopped snoring. Shit.
“What are you doing?” Hughie’s scratchy, sleep-stricken voice mumbled, followed by a rustling of sheets.
Since it was dark it was hard to see, but Butcher could guess Hughie was moving to get a better view of what was going on. Avoiding this conversation would have been preferable, but there really wasn’t anything Butcher could do at this point to get out of it. “You were right,” he answered bitterly, placing his hands on his stomach. “The couch made my back ache.”
Hughie hummed and Butcher felt the mattress move underneath him. The younger man shuffled around a bit and let out a contented sigh when he found a comfortable position. “Okay,” he replied simply.
“You’re not going to make me get out?” Butcher asked, surprised by the lack of an argument.
“’Mm too tired,” Hughie mumbled, his breaths getting audibly shallower as he fell back into sleep.
Well, that was easy. Maybe this wouldn’t be used against him after all. Butcher sunk down into the pillows, let out a sigh of contentment and closed his eyes. He could already feel the relief in his back muscles, which was a good sign, and he was glad to drift off knowing he’d be able to move the next day without every step being agony.
A few more hours passed until the motel room lit up with early morning sunshine. It was a bright, clear day and the golden beams filtered through the thin white curtains hit Hughie’s face, gently bringing him out of sleep. As his brain booted up, Hughie kept his eyes closed, let out a yawn and snuggled his head into the comfortable warm pillow it was lying on. He hadn’t been paying much attention when he’d passed out the night prior, but his foggy mind noted that he didn't recall the pillows being this nice. It must have just been because of how exhausted he was – when you were that tired any surface was good enough. Still, it was surprising just how good it felt to lie on this warm, firm cushion and feel the steady rhythm of it slowly rising and falling...
...Wait a minute.
Hughie’s mind screeched to a halt. Pillows weren’t warm, and they certainly didn’t move of their own volition. He snapped his eyes open and jerked up, looking down at what he was cuddling into. When he grasped what was going on he gaped, equal parts horrified and mortified: His body was half tangled in the sheets and half exposed to the air, and he was completely curled around Butcher, who had one arm around his shoulder and the other splayed out to the side, hanging off the bed. Hughie had to blink a few times to make sure what he was seeing was actually real. How had Butcher even gotten here? Hadn’t he been sleeping on the couch? And why in the name of all that was sane and safe were they fucking cuddling? A million thoughts were running through Hughie’s head, and every single of of them was some variant of what the fuck is happening. Never in a million years did he think he’d end up in a situation where he was spooning Butcher of all people. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to extricate himself from the bed and take a long, hot shower to burn away all traces of this situation. Unfortunately, Hughie wasn’t able to do that without inevitably waking Butcher and bringing down god knows what kind of shit upon himself; so he remained where he was and sighed helplessly in defeat. It was at this moment Hughie's brain helpfully decided to remind him he was naked, and just when he’d begun letting the acceptance wash over him, his heart shot up and lodged in his throat. Oh my fucking shit.
He heard a groan and instinctively moved his gaze to Butcher’s face. The other shifted underneath him, smacking his lips together in post-sleep grogginess. Hughie’s body tensed and he desperately tried to shimmy away but it was futile. His movement caused Butcher’s eyes to flutter open, blinking rapidly to adjust to the morning light. Hughie stayed still, completely lost for what to do and simply watched for any cues he could use. Without looking, Butcher moved the hand that was curled around Hughie’s shoulder and slid it up to cup Hughie's jaw. Butcher’s skin was warm and it almost felt like Hughie was being burnt wherever he was touched. Much gentler than he would have thought possible for Butcher, the large warm hand cupping Hughie's jaw softly nudged his chin until he had no choice but to tilt it upwards towards Butcher’s face. A low rumbling sound, almost like a purr reverberated in Butcher’s chest and he lifted his own head to place a light kiss on Hughie’s lips.
“Good morning, love,” he murmured, letting his head fall back against the pillows. "You okay?”
If having your brain completely short circuit could be defined as okay, then yeah, Hughie was okay, but he was pretty sure there was a general consensus that having your brain break wasn’t actually a good thing. He lifted his free arm – the one that wasn’t trapped underneath Butcher – and brought it up to run his hand through his hair anxiously. “Uhhh…”
The short vocalisation was all it took for everything to go ass over tit. Within a split second, Butcher had flung himself up, flipping Hughie over in the process so he was lying on Butcher's lap and looking upwards at him. Butcher's eyes were wild with shock and he actually jumped when he looked down at Hughie and realised just what was going on.
“You’re not Becca,” he stated, more to himself than to Hughie who was staring up at him, hoping that his life would be spared.
“That would be correct,” Hughie replied, wasting no time in lifting himself into a sitting position and finally separating them. He refused to make any more eye-contact, lest things became even more awkward.
Butcher pressed his lips together and scanned the room. You could see the cogs turning in his head as he processed the situation. His eyes pored over every surface and object, as if he was searching for something, until he finally let his gaze fall back to his lap. Instead of being defensive, Butcher's shoulders dropped and he clutched the blanket in his hands tightly. “You never say a word about this,” he said lowly, with all the menace that he was routinely known for.
Hughie turned his body to have a better view of Butcher and placed his hands in his lap. “I won’t," he assured, just as happy to forget about it. He watched Butcher roll the sheets around between his fingers and clench his jaw tensely. It was obvious what he was going through, Hughie had felt it as well. There were so many times he’d woken up and for a split second thought Robin was next to him, only to be rudely reminded a moment later that the bed was empty. When Annie had been there he'd mistaken her for Robin a few times, but she'd understood and brushed it off. As much Hughie and Butcher wanted to move on, the memories never left, and that was the frustrating truth.
“It’s okay, you know,” he said, and he meant it. “I understand.”
It wasn’t clear what Hughie expected, but Butcher paused his fidgeting and looked up at him properly for the first time since he’d sat up. “We’ve had it rough,” he said, dropping the blanket. “I’m sorry for…” He paused and shrugged. “Whatever the fuck that was.”
Hughie nodded. “Me too.” Somehow it didn’t feel like enough to just apologise, but with the situation at hand there wasn’t much else he could do. At least it hadn’t been completely unpleasant; it’s not like the kiss was entirely objectionable, even if Butcher thought he was kissing someone else. Why was Hughie even thinking about that? It didn’t matter, it wasn’t like Hughie cared one way or the other about it. He was perfectly fine with it not being intended for him. Absolutely, positively fine.
“You alright?”
“Hmm?” Hughie blinked a few times, confused, before he focused his gaze on Butcher’s concerned face and realised he'd gone silent following his very short response; he'd probably been staring into space as well, being lost in thought and all. Knowing his luck, he must have looked like he’d gone catatonic. It was therefore in Hughie's best interest to correct that before Butcher thought he’d completely noped out of reality. “Oh, yeah, I’m cool. Great. Fine. Cool.”
Butcher eyed him warily, obviously unconvinced. The guy might have been an inscrutable asshole at the best of times, but his own instinct for reading others was nothing to scoff at. Right now it was clear he wasn’t buying Hughie’s bullshit, and on one hand it was flattering that Butcher knew Hughie well enough to question his words – on the other, it was extremely fucking annoying.
“I said I’m sorry,” Butcher said, gruffly. It was just like him to blame himself and assume Hughie was being standoffish over something completely different that what was actually going through his head.
“You didn’t do anything that needs an apology,” Hughie said reflexively, snapping his mouth shut in embarrassment as soon as it slipped out.
Butcher tilted his head to the side quizzically. “You’re upset that I’m apologisin’?”
“No.” Hughie shook his head. “It’s just, I’m not upset about you…” He paused and corrected course. “About the kiss.”
That didn’t clarify much and Butcher remained unsatisfied. “Then what are you upset about?” he pushed. “Because you’re pissy about somethin’.” He’d already apologised, and they couldn’t afford to be moping around in front of Solider Boy. If they didn’t keep their cool, they’d be ripped a new asshole and that wasn’t really on the top of Butcher’s fun list.
Hughie sighed. He wished Butcher would just drop it, the guy didn’t even do feelings. Why he wanted to delve into Hughie’s psyche was a mystery, nonetheless, it seemed like moving on without being honest would be impossible. “Like I said, I know how it feels. When I first woke up it was nice having somebody there.” He bit his lip and looked down at his hands. “Somebody who understands. But you weren’t there for, well, me.” This sounded so lame. “I guess I just wish I could have that again.”
“Starlight not good enough?” Butcher asked, his face softening. He might not have vocalised it, but he was finally starting to get the picture.
“No! She’s great,” Hughie said, “But she doesn’t really get it, you know? She never wakes up in the morning in a cold sweat, reaching out for a ghost.” He paused and took a breath. Hold it together, damn it - He would not start crying. “I would never want her to, nobody deserves this shit. But given the choice…” He looked at Butcher. “It’s nice to be with someone who I don’t have to explain myself to. Someone who’s been through the same thing and just knows.”
Butcher’s brows furrowed. He ached for Becca, wanted nothing more than for her to be with him, but it was an impossible dream that would never be realised. Both he and Hughie knew their hearts would never fully recover from the damage they’d sustained and on top of that it was a very particular type mutual pain they harboured. Perhaps Hughie was right – they couldn’t get Becca and Robin back, but they could empathise with each other and maybe that, while not ideal, was the next best thing.
“Ditto,” Butcher breathed, keeping his eyes on Hughie’s face. If there was anything else to say, it was too twisted up with a crap tone of other things that Butcher didn’t know how to say aloud. It was easier to let his eyes do the talking, they always seemed to get the point across better than his mouth did anyway.
Hughie hesitated for a moment, his arms twitching as he internally debated on what to do next. He knew what he wanted to do, but it was risky, and inevitably the moment he followed through with it everything would change. Or maybe it wouldn’t, and that was the beauty of it. Shaking off the nervousness keeping him still, Hughie shuffled forward on his knees until he was right next to Butcher. The entire time the older man kept his gaze fixed on Hughie’s movements, but made no attempt to move. They stared at each other for a moment, silently asking one last time for permission. Butcher nodded almost imperceptively, and that gave Hughie the green light he needed. He leant forward and softly pressed his lips to Butcher’s. It was chaste, but lingered for a few moments and sent comfort coursing through both of them. When they pulled apart, Hughie gently pushed Butcher down onto the bed so he was once again lying on his back, he then shifted himself around until he could lay his head on Butcher’s chest – the way it had been when they first woke up.
“I never said good morning back to you,” Hughie noted, closing his eyes and taking in the feeling of the soft fabric of Butcher’s shirt against his face.
Butcher ran a hand through Hughie’s hair and chuckled. “I think I can forgive ya’.” He stared up at the ceiling and thought about how Becca used to feel against his body. It was warm in that memory, and it was warm now. “Just promise to stay where you are next time.”
There was a pause, and Butcher felt Hughie place a hand over his chest. “I won’t be going anywhere.” Even though he couldn’t see it, Butcher could swear he felt Hughie smile. “You’re warm.”