Chapter Text
Homelander extracts himself from his conversation with Maeve and the Vought workers diplomatically, and goes over to the glass windows to watch the Butcher couple leave.
He places his gloved hand on the glass, looking down. Becca is taking off her high heeled shoes while she pushes her long brown hair out her eyes, and Billy is taking his suit jacket off. Somehow, the small change in clothing twists and changes them completely, and suddenly Billy and Becca look like a young, happy couple that has just finished playing at being grownups.
Becca hands her shoes to Billy, and he makes an amused comment at being her servant. His wife gives a mock-curtsy and Billy slings his arm around her as they get to their car.
"This was fun, thank you for coming with me," Becca says, clicking her seatbelt into place. "I know this isn't exactly your style of party."
"Not enough pizza for that," Billy replies, in the type of tone that implies a private joke.
Becca laughs, understanding the joke that exists just between the two of them, and plays with the short hairs on Billy's neck as he starts the car and they drive away. Homelander can hear the comfortable silence between them, the way they don't need to speak to understand each other.
"Homelander?" Madelyn comes over, placing a hand on his arm. She's been doing that a lot lately, touching him. He isn't an idiot, he knows what she's trying to do, the connection she's trying to create between them, and he hasn't decided yet what he wants to do with it.
"Hi, do you think it would be ok if I left early, just this once?" Homelander asks, watching the Butcher's car driving away.
Madelyn gives him a searching look and nods, "Of course, you do so much for us. Is everything all right?"
"Yeah, of course," Homelander forces a smile. "What could be wrong?"
Madelyn doesn’t seem convinced, but she doesn't say anything as Homelander leaves.
---
Becca Butcher is a beautiful woman when she's in the middle of an orgasm, that's for sure.
But her husband is even more beautiful, Homelander thinks. And that's a twist he hadn't expected.
He presses his face against the wall separating him from the Butcher's in their bedroom, where they're gasping and groaning. Billy is laying on the bed, his hands clenching Becca above him. His head is thrown backwards, inches from Homelander's face, nothing between them but cement. He can see his lust-full eyes so easily, the drops of sweat falling down his forehead. Homelander licks his lips.
Billy gasps, moving up to expose his back and ass. Homelander watches the bumps of his spine, the wide expanse of his muscled shoulders, the perfect globes of his ass cheeks. He leans in, pressing himself into the wall, trying to pretend there is nothing between them. He wants to lick the space between them, discover how Billy tastes inside.
"Fuck," Becca groans, and Homelander blinks, having forgotten that she's there. He looks up, watching her throwing her head backwards. She doesn’t look so beautiful anymore.
She's like a stain of coffee on a master-class painting, a scar on perfect skin. Maybe not so bad on its own, but when put around something perfect it becomes nearly unholy in how wrong it is.
The woman moans, and then Billy joins her, and the two collapse on each other. Their heartrate is in synch with each other. They had come together.
What a perfect couple, Homelander thinks bitterly.
They will look even more perfect falling apart.
*
The meeting he has with Becca goes well. He charms and sweet talks her, putting her in charge of all of his social media. Becca is beaming, and he thinks, distantly, that she must look even more beautiful then normal. Happiness usually does that to the mudpeople.
"You know, your husband made an interesting point at the party," He says when their done and he's walking Becca out. "I should probably become a bit more involved in my own social media. I mean, I certainly don't want to be deceptive with my fans. Obviously, I don't have time to post and approve of every post. But we should probably discuss the larger decisions, like once a week or so?"
"Oh, that would wonderful," Becca gushes. "Should we make a time to meet?"
"Yeah, absolutely. When are you free?"
*
"Hey, Becca?"
"Um, yes, who is this?"
"Oh, I never gave you my phone number! That one's on me. It's Homelander-"
"Homelander! Hi, how are you?"
"I'm good, I'm good…But listen, I'm at this orphanage right now, and this young man asked if I could come see him tomorrow as well. I'm afraid the only time I have is during the time we're supposed to meet…"
"We can postpone if you want? Until next week."
"We could. But-tell me if this is completely inappropriate for me to ask- but could you meet on the weekend? I know you probably have enough things to do-"
"No, no, I'll come to Vought Tower. I can come Saturday afternoon?"
"Oh, I would never ask you to come to work. It's just a small meeting. And it takes me only a few minutes to get from place to place. Maybe I can meet you around your place? So you don't have to travel."
"I…I'm sure you wouldn't want to be meet at a café or something. You'll be seen and if people overhear what we're talking about, it wouldn't look good-"
"Yes, of course. It's good I have you, clearly you're the better thinker."
"Tell you what, why don't you just come to my place? We can have all the time in the world to talk."
"I wouldn't want to intrude on you and your husband, Becca."
"It's fine, I promise! Billy won't mind, I'm sure, and it really would be much easier for me then to come to Vought. So, why don't you come at around two? I should be back from the synagogue by then."
"Sounds wonderful. Thank you again, Becca, and I'm so sorry for the hassle. See you on Saturday."
"See you then."
*
Billy Butcher isn't wearing a shirt when he opens the door. So, naturally, Homelander's mind short-circlets.
"Oh," Is the very articulate word that comes out of his mouth.
The CIA agent looks Homelander over and says, "I ain't goin' to lie, you look bloody weird without your suit."
Homelander definitely feels weird without his suit. It's been years since he went anywhere without it. He's not sure why he had put on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt for this, he had just felt like doing it, and he wasn't used to fighting his desires. But he really can't care less right now what he's wearing, because Billy isn’t wearing a shirt.
"Um," He says, which is also very articulate.
Billy swings the door open and motions Homelander into his apartment. As Homelander walks in, breathing the smells of Billy (and Becca), of a sweet honey cake cooling on the counter, of paper spread on the coffee table. He watches Billy pick up a black shirt from the living room sofa and push it over his broad chest, hiding it.
"Thought Becca told you to come at two?" Billy asks, collapsing on the sofa chair and placing his arms on its sides. He looks up at Homelander with an expectant look, making him look…almost regal. It's disconcerting. It makes Homelander want to get down on his knees and-
Homelander slaps the back of his head internally. He needs to focus. Plastering a sheepish smile on his face, he says, "Two. Crap. That one's on me, I thought twelve for some reason. I can leave and go back-"
"Don't be bloody daft," Billy snorts and points at the sofa with his chin. "Becca ain't never gonna forgive me if I send you back out."
"She wants to make a good impression on me, huh?" Homelander sits down. He feels the warmth under his flesh-Billy must have sat here recently.
(Or Becca, his mind points out.
He ignores his mind.)
"'Course, needs your favor to move upwards at Vought."
Homelander stares at him, "Has anybody ever told you you're brutely honest? Like maybe just a little too honest?"
"Aye. Me mum told me I need to be more of an arse-licker."
Yes, we'll try that later.
"Well I suppose it worked for you. Becca tells me you’re a CIA agent?"
Billy nods, and, with prompting, tells Homelander stories of his work. It's fascinating, and the way Billy tells his tales make it clear that he's downplaying his contribution to the successful outcomes. Homelander finds himself leaning forward, barely breathing in fear of missing a single world. He'd come to be alone with Billy, to see if doing that would make him less obsessed with the man. If it would make it easier for him to stop jerking off every night to the memory of Billy lost in the haze of pleasure, the sound he made when he came and how perfect his body was when he pounded into Becca.
He can tell that that won't happen.
When the door opens and Becca comes in, Homelander feels like someone has poured a bucket of ice water over him. He watches as she comes up to kiss Billy's head, and shakes Homelander's hand. And while they sit and have their meeting, one thought echoes over and over in his mind.
I have never hated anyone as much as I hate you.