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rainbowwritesthings · 4 years

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I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight

Hughie reached up and felt the edge of the knife that was lodged in his ribs and could almost feel where the tip of the knife exited from his back. Butcher grabbed the hand that was fumbling with the knife handle and brought Hughie’s knuckles to his lips, “don’t worry bought that now.”

Hughie dies for awhile. Butcher freaks out. AO3

Soldier Boy stared Hughie down, somehow managing to exude disinterest while still maintaining an energy that spoke of impending bloodshed.

Hughie forced himself not to look around for Butcher, who had slipped away to try and track down the very Supe measuring the young man up.

“Where are your friends?”

The sudden baritone had Hughie jolting slightly and his usual instinct regarding a very powerful Supe asking questions rang true.

“Who?”

Butcher had made fun of Hughie countless times because of his ‘play dumb’ strategy, and the gruff man would always end the jab by saying it only made people more suspicious.

MM and Frenchie had made similar, less pointed comments about his lies under pressure, even Kimiko had once given him a look when Hughie dumbly asked, “who’s Hughie Campbell?” When someone was trying to intimidate him.

The heavy sound of boots walking towards him had Hughie’s heart beat harder, and he wished he could at least pretend to be brave while facing the first superhero.

This was Soldier Boy’s first meeting with any of the group and Hughie could understand why this was so disappointing for the man.

Soldier Boy stood in front of him and raised his eyebrows, “you’re really a member of The Boys? The group that kills Superheroes.”

Hughie blinked and opened his mouth, only to be interrupted when the man continued on.

“Your leader is former SAS and CIA. His right-hand man was a combat medic, left hand man was a gun-runner and chemist expert. Oh, and the other member is a trained Super terrorist.”

Hughie noticed the lack of mention for Starlight and hoped it meant that her spot on the Seven meant she was safe.

The Supe got even closer until they were just inches apart, “you used to upsell bullshit equipment for a Radio Shack. Why the fuck are you here?”

God Hughie wished he had a good answer to that, or at least the spine to say something cool like he knew Butcher would have.

“It’s a long story.”

This answer gained him a grunt and Soldier Boy stepped back, with no warning his fist shot out and Hughie fell to the ground. The Supe lowered down to straddle the man and Hughie tried desperately to get out from under him.

When two hands linked around his throat, Hughie froze and stared up.

“I could snap your neck and there’d be nothing you could do to stop me.”

Hughie was already well aware of this fact, and somehow being in such a powerless position eased the panic welling inside of him. As Soldier Boy’s grip around his throat tightened, Hughie grabbed his knife.

The first knife that Butcher had gifted him in the guise of safety, the one Hughie kept with him at all times since receiving it. He used it to stab the Supe in the arm, and Soldier Boy didn’t so much as flinch as he shifted to hold Hughie down with one hand.

The other hand reached up to yank out the knife, he examined the knife and looked down at Hughie.

“Maybe you aren’t as balless as I thought.”

Hughie sucked in air and heard heavy footfalls closing into to him. Butcher finally arrived with stomping feet and a shout, “Oi, cunt!” As Butcher shot at the Supe, Soldier Boy only looked up at him as a courtesy.

“Finally, a true member of the team.”

With a cold smile the Supe maintained eye contact with Butcher and rammed the knife through Hughie’s chest. Hughie couldn’t help but scream when the knife ripped through his lung, cartilage, and bones, and after it was in he weakly grasped at his chest.

When Hughie grasped about the area he could only feel the tip of the handle sticking out, the rest of the blade and handle was buried firmly in his lung and ribcage.

Butcher let out a roar and the rest of clip was unloaded into the Supe, Soldier Boy merely stood up casually over Hughie and wipe his bloody hand on his pants uniform.

Burcher was still holding an empty gun to the Supers face, seething with unbridled rage.

“I’ll kill every fuckin’ one of ya’!” For once an emotion other than boredom crossed Soldier Boy’s face, but Hughie’s vision was too blurry to make out what expression it was exactly, but it looked almost like surprise.

Black filled the whole of his vision and peace was momentarily granted, until strong hands were firmly shaking his shoulders and a voice was ringing in his ears.

Butcher came into a blurry world view that slowly cleared until all Hughie could see was Billy, cradling him in his arms with a desperate expression.

“Hold on now Hughie. Others are on their way, gonna get you all patched up.”

That was the most blatant lie Butcher had ever told him, even if MM rolled in right now with a squad of trained medics it wouldn’t matter.

Hughie could almost feel where the tip of the knife exited from his back and reached up to the area once again.

Butcher grabbed the hand that was fumbling around the knife handle and brought Hughie’s knuckles to his lips, “don’t worry bought’ that now.”

Hughie tried to focus on the man, truly he did, but he was also trying to gather air into his lungs. He was drowning in himself, there was no other way to describe it.

Butcher seemed to pick up on his gasping for air and with a gentle warning, lifted Hughie so he was braced on his lap.

Slightly more upright Hughie coughed up a spray of blood, coating both Butcher and Hughie. It was still hard to breathe, he could feel the blood pulling in his chest and congealing in his throat.

“Breathe darlin’, just breathe.”

At the command Hughie drew in a wet breath and immediately coughed harder, “Butch-“

“Shh, save your breath luv.”

A calloused hand ran through his hair before cupping his cheek, “you’ll be fine, made of strong stuff you are. This ain’t nothin’ compared to what you been through.”

Hughie’s vision cleared enough to see Butcher, more distraught than he had ever seen him before which lead to a new resolve.

“Listen-please listen to me.”

It was odd how exhausting that simple sentence was and the dawning comprehension that he was dying finally beginning to hit him. This understanding must have shown on his face because Butcher placed more pressure on the wound with a feral look in his eyes.

“You’re gonna be fine, ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to ya.”

Holy shit, Billy Butcher was in complete denial about what was happening.

“Billy. I love you. Please don’t-“

More burning pain had Hughie wheezing past the blood, clutching Butcher’s hand in a vice grip. When the burn ebbed, he blinked past the black spots.

“Don’t give up.”

While the man knew he was in no way comparable to Becca, his death wouldn’t leave a gaping wound in Butchers heart like hers had, he also admitted that he was important to Butcher in a different way.

Hopefully someone else would fill his place as both a member, as well as someone to stand beside Butcher. Someone who could shine a light in the dark but was still resilient enough to stand against the Supes without fear.

He must have blacked out again because when he was blinking through the tunnel around his eyes he could hear Butcher whispering, it almost sounded like a prayer.

“You can’t give me a light in the fuckin’ cave just to take it away, not like this. Not him, please, anyone other than him.”

Hughie could hear a harsh wheezing and it took a moment to realize it was coming from him, distantly he could feel the pressure Butcher was keeping on the wound and the feel of Butchers face buried in Hughie’s hair.

He tried to swallow the thick metallic in his throat but ended up painfully coughing instead of forcing it down. Somehow coughing around the thick paste painting his insides hurt so much worse that the actual stab wound did.

Though now that he thought about it, he could still feel the knife stuck between his ribs, moving around and tearing something else up every time he tried to breathe to deeply.

God, there was so much more Hughie wanted to say to Butcher. He wanted to comfort the man who had already been through so much and let him know that whatever he found so special in Hughie could be found in someone else at least ten fold.

Hughie could hear the rest of the Boys arrive, not able to determine who was who when they filtered in but with sudden resolve he forced himself to focus.

“I-I can’t do anything about this man.”

He could hear MM distantly, as if his ears were packed full of wool, but despite how far away the voice was he could hear the pain laced in every word. Hughie felt cold in a way he hadn’t felt before, this wasn’t like a sudden cold snap that struck before you before the space heater was ready, instead it went deeper and curved around his bones, his very soul even.

He was also thirsty, despite how thick the blood coated his throat he still wanted something, anything, to quench his thirst. He could hear another voice, muffled as it was, and was able to determine it was Frenchie.

The only thing keeping him from floating away growled and Hughie forcibly peeled back the weights holding his eyelids closed. Everything was tilted on it’s side and he could barely see past the tunnel around his vision.

Billy’s face slowly came into focus and when he saw Hughie looking up at him, he gave a terrible smile. Not the one that promised impending bloodshed or illegal activities, but a new one entirely.

It took a while but Hughie was able to focus on MM next, the man looked as if he had been the one stabbed and gave the younger man a reassuring smile that contrasted with every other body signal he was giving Hughie.

Frenchie was rubbing the back of his head and pacing, but when he saw Hughie’s eyes on him he stopped and stooped down.

“Petit Hughie.”

He gave the dying man a shaky smile, and Hughie gave him a weak smile back. At this Frenchie looked around and sniffled slightly before getting up to pace around more.

Hughie looked at Kimiko and was shocked to see tears gathered around her eyes, her gaze was locked into his chest and the barest hint of the hilt that was visible sticking out of his chest. She was breathing deeply and Hughie knew she was visualizing taking the knife that killed him and slitting Soldier Boys throat with it.

Which led to Hughie imagining what the group would do next.

Butcher would go on a complete warpath, maybe even worse than it had been before. Homelander would always be the first mark, but now Soldier Boy would be directly under that name.

God Hughie hoped that Frenchie and mainly MM could keep Butcher, and maybe Kimiko, from trying to fight Soldier Boy without a plan.

There was no reason for all of them to crumble under one Supes hand over him, though honestly Hughie reasoned that none of them were that foolhardy to try and rush towards revenge before he had started to decompose.

Well if anything else, Annie could always get them to at least consider reason if their vision became clouded. He could hear Butcher above him and forced himself to focus.

“Please luv, you can't leave me. I love you Hughie, fuckin’ hell I love you.”

Hughie wanted to say that he loved him just as much, that Butcher was never what he expected from a partner but he didn’t regret the decision to join him even if this was the result.

“B-billy, thank you.”

For everything, all the terrible gory bits and the sweet moments that made life feel worth living. An ironic sentiment considering how close death was breathing down his neck right now.

Hughie hoped that when they broke the news to his father, they would lie and say it was instant. That there was no pain, no Hughie wheezing around his own blood.

Fuck he was really going to die, wasn’t he?

Hughie vomited up more burning blood as Butcher tried to sooth him and try as he might the numbness filled him completely. Swallowing Hughie whole in a dark embrace, free of pain and worry.

Hughie felt the world come into view in pieces. First there was a searing burn surrounding his very existence, threatening to burn him alive. Then the burn centered on his chest, and the only instinct Hughie had was to try and expel it.

He felt hands shifting him around, pulling him in different ways so that he could vomit the substance easier. Every time Hughie felt like he could take a breath a new wave of fire would hit.

Several objects that were suspiciously hard found their way trapped in his throat; he wasn’t sure who dug around his mouth to fish them out but Hughie owed his life to whoever did so.

Finally, when all the congealed blood and bits of bone had been expelled Hughie could take in full breaths instead of the chocked gasps he had been using before.

He vowed to never take his lungs and the beautiful feeling of filling them with air for granted. With uncoordinated blinks the world started to slide in place around him.

MM was smiling down at him and that answered the question of who was keeping him upright, “holy fuck man.”

Frenchie lunged forward to kiss both of his cheeks, speaking quickly in his own language. He got the sense that Frenchie was putting to words the pure relief that shone through his face.

Kimiko was practically beaming at him; she was signing to him and Hughie knew that he should recognize what she was saying but couldn’t focus long enough to create a translation. However he didn’t need to know exactly what she was saying, the meaning was clear when she was smiling so openly at him.

Past her Butcher was staring at him, completely still except for the way his chest was heaving. His expression was of blatant horror mixed with large dose of disgust, he wasn’t looking at Hughie’s face and if his jaw clenched any harder his teeth may be in danger.

That was what splashed Hughie in a new wave of panic.

“I died.”

Saying the words out loud sparked Hughie into moving, jerking around and clawing at his chest.

“I fucking died! What the fuck?!”

MM was trying to calm him down, gently holding his wrist when Hughie began to scratch at his throat.

“Oh god, oh my god. I was- I!”

His eyes darted around to the others, trying to get them to understand.

Kimiko had a look of understanding that he hadn’t seen from her before and Frenchie was leaving to grab something from the front of the van.

Throughout all of this Butcher hadn’t moved, though his face hardened as he watched Hughie thrash weakly in MM’s hold.

Butcher, who hated Supes of any kind, who still didn’t trust Kimiko or want anything to do with her despite her status as a firm member of the group. He tolerated her because she was useful, a good fighter as well as a good shot.

Hughie wasn’t either of those things, and as such wasn’t needed like she was.

“You’re going to kill me.”

Hughie’s voice shook with the statement, there was little doubt in his mind what Butcher was really thinking when he eyed to closed chest wound. Frenchie moved in front of him, brandishing a needle.

“Petit Hughie, this is going to help you to relax. Do not worry mon amie, it will be alright.”

Hughie thrashed about and the man knew he was babbling, begging the others for so many things but he couldn’t hear his own words.

Would he go in a cage until they decided what to do?

Small but strong hands held his legs down and Hughie felt the prick of the needle going in. His vision blurred almost immediately after, and finally he felt someone push his hair from his face.

#the boys #butchie #billy butcher x hughie campbell #billy butcher #hughie campbell #hughie is an important member of the boys #temporary character death #secretly a Supe Hughie #Soldier Boy is an ass #tw: blood #tw: violence #rainbowwritesstuff

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fandammit · 5 years

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Someone to stay [1/2]

Y’all knew this was coming. The Boys, Frenchie x Kimiko. Missing moments through S1. Also available here on Ao3.

Even in his dreams, he can’t quite picture home any more.

That he spent so many years of his life running back to a place he can’t even imagine any more hurts too much to think about, so now he mostly tries not to.

The first time he’d even spoken about home out loud to anyone since -- well, ever -- was staring at Kimiko before she was Kimiko. Back when she was just a scared, feral outline of a person that he’d somehow wanted to protect anyway.

There’s so much about home that hurts. So much about who he is that hurts.

But it all hurts so much less when he’s with her.

-----

She keeps one hand wrapped around his all the way home from Mesmer’s house, the other clutching one of the pictures she’d drawn of her last memory of home.

There are at least a hundred of the exact same drawing back at the safe house, but he’d made sure to grab the one she’d drawn at Mesmer’s house and give it back to her. It’s a milestone for the two of them, or a talisman, perhaps, to ward against the people they were meant to become.

She sees him looking at the paper in her hands and after a short moment of contemplation, she offers it to him. He tilts his head at her, his eyebrows drawing close to ask are you sure?

She gives him a long look, her eyes searching his, before she simply pushes it into his other hand and settles closer to him, her eyes turning out towards the window and back towards some faraway memory.

He’s never been what you call sentimental -- he has no tangible memories from childhood that aren’t scars, and a lifetime of being on the move means that everything he owns can be packed in a duffle, or bought at the newest Goodwill. But he already knows that this will now become his most prized possession. A symbol made real -- the turning point when she stopped being the girl or petite lazarus or just her and crystallized into Kimiko.

She’s still mon coeur, of course. He does not think he could stop himself now. Thinks he’d have to know where it had all started to figure out how to stop, but doesn’t know either.

It doesn’t matter, anyhow. She’s Kimiko and she’s mon coeur and she’s holding on tightly to his hand; the rest of the world fades away.

-----

She goes straight to couch when they get back to the safehouse and turns on the TV. He watches as she pulls her knees up close to her chest and wraps her arms around them, the screen flickering through images of sharks and reefs. .

He watches her as closely as she watches the TV -- which is to say, he’s really just looking at her as his mind travels down other roads. He can hear M.M. rearranging files on the table behind him as he does, then feels the table sag a bit as the larger man sets himself down next to him.

“You know Butcher’s gonna offer to trade her to the feds if it helps bring down Vought,” M.M. murmurs. “And you know as well as I do that it would.”

Hot anger flashes through him at the thought, and he turns towards M.M., his fists clenched at his side.

“She’s not some kind of -- of -- puzzle piece or stray collateral to be given and traded,” he hisses, though the pit of stomach roils with fear even as he says it. He has no illusions about what Monsieur Charcuter will do for his personal vendetta.

“We’re all collateral to Butcher,” M.M. says wearily, and not for the first time he wonders why the other man ever agreed to come back to them. “Look, Frenchie, all I’m saying is that you'll have to prove to Butcher that she’s more valuable to us than she would be to Feds.”

He stares at M.M, hating that he’s right, hating himself more for immediately trying to quantify just what Kimiko could do for them. He knows she would be invaluable to them. He has a talent for killing and weapons, M.M. has the planning and the brains, Butcher is ruthlessness and drive personified and little Hughie is...well, he’s somewhat like a mascot, at times, but one who has shown himself to be resourceful when necessary.

But Kimiko is pure, Supe strength -- the one thing they need, and the one thing they’re missing in their fight against the Supes.

“She just want to go home,” he finally says, shaking his head. “She should get that chance.”

M.M. sighs and shakes his head.

“Ok, man,” he says, pushing himself off the edge of the table and going back to fiddle with his files on the table. “But you know I’m right about Butcher.”

-----

If he were Monsieur Charcuter, he wouldn’t give her a choice; he would simply tell her she needed to join the team or get ready to be shipped over to the Feds.

If he were M.M, he would try to reason with her, explain why joining the team is her best option in a finely drafted presentation with graphs and charts and her own personal file.

If he were Hughie, well, he’d probably tell Kimiko that he was going to take her back home, and then get them both killed or captured -- by the Supes, by the Feds or by Charcuter himself -- trying to get her there.

But he can only be himself, and so he gives Kimiko what he’s always wanted, and what he knows she deserves: a choice.

He means it when he tells her that they could use her help in stopping Vought, but he means it just as much when he tells her that he’s ready to go to the airport at a moment’s notice. He’s been burned and started over so many times in his life; what’s one more?

He tries to read her expression, to see if she’s struggling to make the choice, what he should prepare himself for.

But it’s a moment that’s too short to grasp, and in the next, she reaches over to take his hand and settles back into the couch cushions. Their clasped hands lay loosely between them, and even though her attention’s back on the TV, he can almost feel the words as if she’d shouted them out loud.

I choose you.

Everything about her movements, her demeanor, is casual and easy; it’s as if she hasn’t just altered the course of her life with this one choice. As if there hadn’t even been a choice, really.

He understands the feeling. Choosing Kimiko hadn’t really been much of a choice for him, either.

-----

“I have to go,” Hughie stutters out, looking lost and little despite the way he towers, that same frightened look on his face from when they'd first met.

“Hughie, you can’t go alone,” M.M. says, reaching a hand out to stop him. That M.M. has any kindness left over to distribute even as he's getting ready to head to his own family is how he knows that M.M. really might be too good to be on their team.

“No, he said --." Hughie stops and shakes his head. "A-Train said that none of my friends can come with me. I have to -- I can’t -- he’ll kill my dad if I don’t come alone.”

"He'll kill both of ya if you do," Butcher snarls from somewhere across the room, and he isn't sure whether Monsieur Charcuter is angry at A-Train, Hughie, Mesmer or just life in general.

He feels a gentle hand on his shoulder and turns to face Kimiko, who looks at him for a moment then tilts her head in Hughie's direction.

He looks back at her, then over at Hughie, who's now arguing with Monsieur Charcuter.

"You're sure?" He asks, even though what he actually wants to say is it's dangerous and it might not be a good idea and please don't. But he knows all those words are more for him than her anyway, and she didn't choose to stay behind just so he could hold her back.

She nods and reaches out her hand to wrap it around his, squeezing once before letting go and gesturing towards the center of the room where Hughie and Butcher are squaring off against one another.

"Kimiko will go with you," he calls across the room, taking advantage of a lull between Hughie and Butcher's shouts.

It's a rare moment where he manages to catch Monsieur Charcuter completely off guard.

“What now?” the other man snaps, turning to face them both.

“Kimiko,” he repeats, stepping aside and gesturing at her. “She said she’ll go with petite Hughie.”

Hughie blinks rapidly, his eyebrows coming together in the center of his forehead in confusion.

“You know you can’t come, Frenchie. A-Train would recognize you.”

He nods.

“I do not need to go, you know this, petite Hughie. Kimiko can protect you just as well as I can -- better even.”

Hughie looks like he wants to argue, but he ends up just nodding, his hesitation fading out into that nervous, jumpy energy again as he looks down at his phone and back towards the door.

“Ok, that works for me.”

“Well it don’t fuckin’ work for me, does it?” Butcher growls, moving himself between Hughie and the door as he glares at Frenchie. “Sending that feral girl out into the world without you to control her is about as stupid a fuckin’ idea as it was to go to Mesmer for help.”

An ugly sort of anger floods his veins, and he steps towards the larger man at the center of the room, his skin hot with rage.

“Her name,” he grounds out, advancing on Butcher, “is Kimiko, and she is not feral or a girl, and she does not need me -- or anyone here --,” he rounds on the room and scowling at everyone, “to control her.”

He feels Kimiko’s hand in his, small and soft, but rooting him in place all the same.

He turns back to look at her and she squeezes his hand before letting go and moving towards the center of the room. She stops in front of Butcher and stares at him -- there’s no tension in her stance, no aggressiveness in her eyes -- just the impression that she’s saying I’m going with Hughie, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

Butcher, to his credit -- or maybe because he’s just a crazy motherfucker -- doesn’t look fazed or worried; if anything, there’s something like respect in his expression.

She walks past Butcher and over to where Hughie is standing by the door, then looks back at him, her head tilted in his direction.

He moves towards her, glaring at Butcher as he walks past, and stops in front of where she and Hughie are standing.

“So, what is the plan, petite Hughie?” He asks, looking over at where the other man in standing, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet.

Hughie takes a deep breath and chews on his lip.

“Ok, so, I need to make sure my dad gets out of there safely.” He glances at Kimiko. “There’s a stoop next to our apartment where people hang out all the time -- Kimiko can just, you know, hang out there and once she sees my dad come out, run up and, uh, you know.” He gives a short huff of a laugh. “Save my ass.”

Kimiko looks at him, then down at her hands, flexing them before she looks back over at Hughie, her eyebrow slightly raised.

“Ah,” he says after a moment, before turning to Hughie. “And do you want her to, ah, you know, kill A-Train?”

Hughie gives him a wide-eyed look.

“God, no, no, of course not.” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “No, that’d be -- .” He shakes his head. “No, we just need to slow him down so we can get out of there and he can’t come after us.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding in agreement with Hughie. “So break both his legs, then.” He looks over at Kimiko, who bounces on the balls of her feet as she nods in agreement.

Hughie puts his hands out in front of him.

“I don’t really think we need to break both of them, you know?” He looks back and forth between Kimiko and Frenchie. “Just, uh, one, right? One should do it.”

Frenchie shrugs, then looks over at Kimiko.

“Best to make it a good break then, mon coeur.” He skips over to the far wall and picks up a broken pipe that laying on top of a windowsill. “This should make it so it isn’t too much work or too bloody for you.”

She takes the pipe from him and hefts in her hand, then nods at him.

He reaches out and puts his hands on her shoulders, bending down to look her in the eyes.

“Be careful, mon coeur.”

She nods, then, after a brief moment’s hesitation, picks up his hand and places it against her cheek, leaning her head into it.

He smiles at her, his thumb brushing against the curve of her cheekbone before she gives his hand one final squeeze and follows Hughie out the door.

“You two are the weirdest fuckin’ couple I’ve ever seen,” Butcher says as soon as the door closes behind Hughie and Kimiko.

“Yeah, but you gotta admit,” M.M. calls out from the other end of the room where he’s packing up his stuff. “It actually kind of makes sense.”

And even Monsieur Charcuter doesn’t have anything to say against that.

#frenchie x kimiko #the boys #my fic: someone to stay #you had to know it was coming #well here it is #I love these two so goddamn much #four episodes and i'm shipper trash #their power

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