Part One
Wow, Hughie thought to himself. That is- a lot of guns.
The full rush of panic had left Hughie about an hour ago, which was very nice. There was only the cool, satisfying felling of being emotionally numb. If the rest of his body would just get with the program, he would be ecstatic.
Butcher had checked him over after they had gotten a decent distance away from the shop. It would have made Hughie feel somewhat better about his soulmate if his soulmate hadn’t lied about being a federal agent. Hughie was trying to hold on to his indignation, but it was difficult when he, A) was beat to shit and hurting, B) sleep deprived, and finally, C) really enjoying the fact his soulmate was touching him. Hughie hadn’t realized how much he missed having a warm human body near his, being affectionate. It was especially nice because he had been able to check Butcher over too.
Liar or not, Hughie had just lost one soulmate, he didn’t want to lose another.
They had to be quick, Translucent was trying to escape the trunk, but that didn’t stop Hughie from pressing his forehead underneath Billy’s chin and Billy from pressing a rough kiss to his forehead.
This entire situation would be a thousand times easier if they could just stop touching each other. Hughie and Robin had been very physically expressive, but Robin wouldn’t touch Hughie if he was upset, and he didn’t touch her. Hughie always thought being upset was being like covered in ink, you didn’t need to spread it around the people you loved by touching them. Robin had just hated being touched when she was upset.
Butcher, though. Butcher was already covered in ink and had been pouring it on Hughie since they met. Touching him couldn’t possibly make things worse, and even if they did, Hughie was vindictive enough not to care. Butcher made Hughie feel things, and Hughie hadn’t felt anything but rage and hurt since Robin died.
He didn’t trust Butcher, but that was fine. He didn’t want to trust Butcher. He wanted Butcher’s hands wrapped around the back of his neck or shoulder. He wanted the interlaced fingers while he drove. He wanted the constant steady heat of him as they walked up to meet someone who could take care of the supe in the back of his trunk.
(Oh, god there was a superhero in his soulmate’s trunk.)
Butcher, who had been shoulder to shoulder with Hughie on the walk up to the door, took a half step off to the side, holding up a hand at Hughie’s questioning noise. With his other hand he banged on the door. The woman who opened the door was beautiful, like smoke was beautiful. She had a shirt that opened to show her soulmate words, and they were surrounded by the tattoo of a bullseye. It was odd.
People don’t show off their soulmarks. Or at least, Hughie had never seen them show them off. Not every soulmark was coverable. Hughie made a half gesture at Butcher’s mark before he stopped himself. Hughie used to cover it up during job interviews, but keeping his head down also worked. Robin didn’t wear shorts. His dad wore long sleeves. Butcher didn’t wear gloves, but it was impossible to wear gloves all the time. It was just bad manners to stare at a person’s hands too long.
He was trying to get over the fact someone would leave their soulmark open in such away that he didn’t react when she reached up and touched his face, caressing it. It was a jolt of ice water to his senses, which was strange, because he hadn’t had the same reaction to Butcher’s touch. Butcher didn’t react much to the touch, though. She probably wasn’t going to make a skin suit out of him.
He barely comprehended what Butcher said as he lead Hughie into the open room.
Where there was a pile of guns.
It was a testament to the fact Hughie was largely nonviolent that it took him a few minutes to notice the man his soulmate was speaking too.
The woman had been flagrant, but this man was indecent.
He wore no shirt and cut off jeans and he was wearing soulmate marks. Hughie had seen them in his French and Spanish classes in high school, but he had never seen them in real life. The combination of cost and cultural reverence made to those marks made them rare in even a place like New York. According to the Electrician, they didn’t even teach about them in the more suburban neighborhoods.
There was a bird on his thigh. Its wings were spread out and each under feather was a different color. The ink shimmered in the light, catching the eye. And as the man turned towards Butcher, who was leaving Hughie on the other side of the table, Hughie saw a tattoo of a sun on the man’s neck. Hughie knew Anthoney had sat for hours to get the tattoo of his brother’s name on his back. This many colors at that size- that was some extraordinary patience and pain tolerance.
Or a lot of devotion, Hughie thought absently.
Hughie felt an oddly familiar feeling of vertigo, like he was in far far over his head. The short man smiled, but it was not friendly.
He didn’t hear the words Butcher was saying. He wasn’t able to process sounds, it felt like. But he watched his soulmate as he talked with the heavily armed man. There was a bit of false cheer in Butcher’s movements, and the other man looked dangerous.
And angry.
Hughie watched the conversation continue, but he noticed something odd. At one point, Butcher’s shoulder’s lowered, his voice got softer and he got into the man’s face.
Hughie’s soulmate was the most dangerous man in that room. The other man didn’t flinch, didn’t backtrack, but that didn’t take away from the oppressive air of violence.
---
Billy needed to solve this problem and he needed to solve this problem soon. Every part of him hurt and every muscle in his body was tense and wired.
Translucent. Fucking Translucent.
Billy didn’t blame Hughie for the mess, this situation pretty much sat entirely on him. He knew what he was doing when he goaded Hughie into the Tower. He had looked into his eyes and seen the rage and helplessness and he had understood. That understanding made it easy to lie, easy to goad- and easy to touch. The feelings in Hughie’s eyes were the same ones Billy saw in his own eyes right after Becca disappeared and before he had found his purpose.
He could give Hughie the purpose to fight.
So he did.
It might have turned out alright if Translucent hadn’t gone after Hughie.
Billy had dropped Hughie off, content to let him go his own way. Hughie was young and grieving, there was nowhere for them to go as soulmates, not really. Only more back alley hookups and day drinking. Billy had taken a moment to imagine something different. He had thought about accepting Billy’s offer to help. He thought about having his soulmate where he could see him at all times, about feeding Hughie’s rage until he had a partner who was as devoted and driven as he was. A partner who just tore up forty-five thousand dollars for the sake of a soulmate who couldn’t care anymore. Billy would never “get over” Becca, but he wouldn’t need to get over her with Hughie.
He couldn’t do it though. Billy was a single man operation. Most of the time, the work was dangerous and Billy couldn’t babysit. He could accept the lack of backup for himself, but for a soulmate?
No.
He could work at his tech store and live his life.
So when Billy drove away, he promised himself he would only look once more at the camera he had planted in the store.
He was fucking glad he did.
Rage was an old, familiar friend. It coated his tongue and settled deep in his chest. He saw a kid, a twenty-five year old kid, who hadn’t raised his hand to a soul. Hughie had walked into strange places with him and trusted him and he was being attacked.
Billy had a list of personality defects a mile wide, but he never doubted the fact he could protect his soulmates if violence was an option.
He hadn’t been able to avenge Becca, but he could damn well protect Hughie.
Whether that meant fist fighting a supe or murdering one, Billy wasn’t too picky.
Billy knew he was going to catch hell from Frenchie. The gun under his chin wasn’t a surprise. He had brought one of the most famous superheroes to the Frenchie’s door.
To where his soulmate lived.
The fact Frenchie had not pulled the trigger immediately was a testament to Frenchie’s friendship to him.
“Woah, Woah, Woah.” Billy internally winced as he heard Hughie panic in the background. Billy put a hand out beside him, motioning for him to get back. He could sense Hughie was about to do something stupid if Frenchie didn’t remove the gun, he was going to have to make it quick.
Frenchie’s eyes were narrowed, gaze shifting between Billy and Hughie. Frenchie started ranting about the danger, but Billy knew if he waited long enough, Frenchie would come to the right conclusion.
“You bring this to my doorstep?” Billy internally felt himself relax. “This is not my problem, huh?”
“Well, it is now. He knows what you look like.” Billy watched the realization cross Frenchie’s face. “Look, Frenchie, I need your help mate- and I ain’t leaving till I get it.
Billy saw the look of consideration Frenchie had, Frenchie could always outwait him, but he had another ace up his sleeve.
“Or, until the Seven show up.”
The panic and the fear that was chased by a look of resignation.
“I will grab some of my things.” Frenchie said. “And I need to tell Cherie to find a new place to stay. We can not keep him here.” Frenchie backed up and made strides back to the warehouse. Billy watched him go, eyes following him up the steps.
Then he turned to look at Hughie.
“No worries. Everyone’s fine.” Billy said, watching as Hughie’s hands clenched and unclenched, grabbing at air. He was surprised to see anger in the lines of Hughie’s shoulders. He expected and was counting on the numbness and fear, but anger?
Billy needed to consider that. Fear is easy when guns are in play. Anger? Anger could be useful.
Billy glanced about, looking to see if there was anyone about, anyone watching. Then he reached forward and pulled Hughie to him.The lad flinched before he fell into Butcher’s hold, using his hands to cup Billy’s face. His hands stroked the area where the gun was held. Hughie’s eyes were panicked. Billy started making the noises his mother would make when she needed to calm Lenny down. Billy cupped the back of Hughie’s head- pulling him into his shoulder. Billy knew no amount of talking would get a person over a scare like that. When your adrenaline is pumping like that, you’re totally dependent on what you can feel. Hughie needed to feel that Billy was alive. Billy would oblige.
Hughie had not calmed by the time Frenchie had come back, sack over his shoulder and keys that Billy knew would lead to a garage with a fully stocked van. Billy looked at Frenchie and jerked his chin. Billy watched Frenchie consider the scene before he nodded and raised two fingers. Frenchie would be considerate, but every moment Transluscent was in the area, meant Cherie was in more and more danger. Billy could respect that.
“I wasn’t in any danger.” Billy murmured. “I promise I wasn’t. Frenchie is just being a bit dramatic, is all.”
Billy knew Hughie didn’t believe him, but he felt Hughie take a large shuddering breath and lift his head. Billy waited, and watched Hughie’s emotions condense into a fog of indiffence once again.
Billy pushed him towards the car.
---
Hughie knew how to stop the chip signal. That was a fucking relief, because it gave Frenchie a few more hours to work. While Frenchie was thinking, Billy thought about back up plans. It would be better if they could kill Translucent, but if worst came to worse, Billy needed to find a way to get Billy out of there
A lump grew in Billy’s throat the more he thought about it. His head pounded. There was no way Hughie could avoid the gaze of the Seven if Translucent survived. There was no second option, there was no pass go.
Billy flipped the table in the middle of the room. Hughie flinched.
Billy breathed in Hughie’s fear and clenched his teeth. Fear could be useful in the short-term, but fuck him Hughie’s life depended on him staying near Butcher or Frenchie until, and maybe after, Translucent was killed. Billy knew the kind of panic he felt when Becca disappeared. The feeling that he would do anything was paralyzing. Billy knew that if Becca had been kidnapped, Billy would have traded himself in a heartbeat. He would have done a thousand stupid things, because his wife was at stake.
Billy hated the surety that he would be just as useless if they had Hughie.
Frenchie was smoking by the sink, unmoved by Billy’s rage. Billy straightened, walked over to Hughie and placed a hand on his shoulder.
Hughie didn’t flinch. That was good. Hughie leaned into Billy’s hand.
That was not good.
Billy tilted his head towards Frenchie, watching Hughie’s face as he discussed the best way to kill a supe with diamond skin.
Hughie’s eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed.
“You’re going to kill him?” Hughie asked, looking stunned.
Not the brightest crayon in the box, but he was still a bit young and in shock.
Billy raised an eyebrow. “We didn’t bring him here for a fucking happy meal.”
Billy could see where Hughie was coming from, but Billy had been in the armed forces. Torture and questioning bought questionable results even when they had time.
And they didn’t have time.
“At Gitmo, we had to water board Khalid Sheikh Mohammed one hundred and eighty three times, over six months, just to get him to talk once.”
Billy watched as Hughie’s face spasmed, but Hughie’s eyes looked interested in the information.
“I doubt we have six hours.” Billy said, gently squeezing Hughie’s arm.
“There are so many crazy things about what you just said.” Billy heard Frenchie snort in the background. “but right now, you’re talking about randomly killing one of the most famous men on the planet. A goddamn national treasure.”
Billy internally sighed. He saw this with newbies all the time, but it was never any less frustrating to go over. Some people need to go over information a few times before they become resigned to the to-do list. Billy dropped his arm.
“I mean, people tend to notice that kind of thing.” Hughie said. Billy took a step back.
“And if we let him go, what do you think the Seven will do to us?” Billy hoped he kept the patronizing tone out of his voice, but he doubted he succeeded.
Hughie huffed, but Billy saw something in Hughie’s eyes he didn’t quite like. Appealing to Hughie’s self-preservation would do nothing here.
Billy had to play dirty.
He got up close, next to Hughie’s face, where his breath would hit Hughie’s mouth and tilted his neck slightly, where there was still a bit of a bruise from their meeting a few days ago. It was time to appeal to the soulmate.
“You can’t get A-Train if you’re a greasy smear on the pavement.” Billy said.
Hughie’s arms went up and gripped Billy’s shoulders, nails digging into his coat. Billy didn’t move.
“I am not a murderer.”
The rush of feelings Billy got with that statement were to complicated to untangle, so he kept to relevant facts.
“That’s all right..” Billy leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I am.”
---
Hughie didn’t collapse into a pure panic, like he had in the shop, but he could feel himself heading in that direction.
Hughie didn’t quite know what to do, he wandered about the restaurant until he found a glass- and then he prayed that the water would still be on. He was about to get some water when his phone pinged.
Twelve missed calls from his dad.
Shit.
Hughie did not want to deal with his father while he was about to be an accomplice to murder.
“Hughie! Where have you been? I’ve been calling hospitals!”
“I’m fine.” Hughie said, stretching the truth slightly. He had some impressive bruises and he had a bit of a head injury, but Butcher had assured him that he was probably not concussed. He was just going to be sore for a while.
He was only vaguely listening to his father panic over the phone when-
“I saw this dateline on Human Trafficking….”
“Dad, I haven’t been human trafficked-“
“Well, I called Sam, so you might need to-“
Hughie felt ice run through his veins. Sam should be on a bus south right now. She was the only one of Robin’s soulmates that Hughie was sure wasn’t going to sticking around.
“You did what?”
“She has that phone tracker thing, remember? After that night at that club down on-“
“Shit, dad. I’ll talk to you later.” Hughie wasn’t even sure if he hung up the phone correctly, shoving it into his pocket.
Shit, Shit, Shit.
Hughie bounded towards the door, if he could get out there he would be able to stop her before-
A hand caught the back of his coat.
“Hughie, what the fuck do you think you’re doing, lad?” Butcher’s accent was soft compared to the ringing in Hughie’s head.
“Dad called someone to track me down, I need to-“Butcher pulled Hughie around to face him, gripping one of his arms. In his other hand was the biggest gun Hughie had seen in his life.
“What do you mean track you down?” Butcher’s eyes were concerned.
“She’s got one of those apps, listen I need to make sure she doesn’t come here-“
Butcher let out a breath. “Just turn the damn thing off, Hughie. Here, hand me your phone.”
Hughie dug into his pocket and handed Butcher his phone. He watched as he scrolled through the apps and pressed the screen a few times.
“Call her, tell her it was an invasion of privacy and to fuck off.” Butcher said. “And don’t give anyone else your location. What kind of crazy cunt asks for the location of their soulmate’s soulmate?”
“I dunno,” a voice said from the door of restaurant. “But I am interested in what kind of shady cunt hides in a rundown building with a A/V installer.”
Hughie winced, acid boiling in his stomach as he turned to the doorway.
Oh good. Hughie thought. I am glad she brought a cattle prod to a gunfight.