017. CHATTING

✎ S1E6 ⇢ ˗ˏˋ PART 3 , 2019

|"THE INNOCENTS"
     Dean was ecstatic that he and Hughie got over their simple disagreement so to say. He let his emotions get the best of him. He won't let it happen again. To ensure his newly developed friendship with Hughie, he'll limit his drinking around him and his touch. Hughie probably didn't like it even though he never said anything about it.

He was such a hopeless romantic, he honestly thought it go well back at the bar. Despite the underworld the supes carry. How their front only cover their worst, their desires, the world they didn't show the general public. Only a few flings here and there, Dean himself didn't have a second world he'd hidden from everyone. If you count him being a womanizer and pulling men as a second world, plus his deathly relationship with Homelander. Other than that, he showed everyone the truth, and nothing but the truth. Following along, he really believes in love, despite not showing any interest in the concept. It's a thing one should not rush over. It something you take time with, you endure, you inhale, you savior. Love is like a feather. It's delicate and the simplest touch can deceive it and corrupt it. It's taints it until it is no longer recognizable.

Dean, in his mystified mind is a man whore at best but one that holds the hope of finding someone, someday to settle with. His mishap with Hughie only developed it significantly more.

He exhales, feeling worn out as the extensive days continued. He sits in a metal chair next the Frenchie with Hughie hovering above and behind him. His hands on each side of Dean shoulders holding onto the top of the chair. Leaning his full weight on it.

Dean leans back on the chair and crosses his arms together, listening into what M.M had to say. He stands in front of a map, pinpointed with bullet points as he explains his findings and knowings. "Samaritan's Embrace, led by Ezekiel but bankrolled by Vought, has been shipping compound V to 53 hospitals across the country since 1072 and gift wrapping it,"

Dean sees the unknown woman he saw when he first came here, coming in front of him and grabbing materials from the table, M.M laid out perfectly due to his OCD. He scoffs, amused at M.M discomfort from her displacing multiple stuff on the table. He hears M.M exhale, trying to continue on. "...gift wrapping it as polio vaccine."

"Are you telling me God's not reaching up the twats of American girls and blessing babies?" Butcher comment's with sarcasm laced on his ill tongue.

"Can you leave God out of this?" M.M pleads with annoyance.

Butcher laughs once more at M.M annoyance and Dean as well. He concluded everyone loves to get under M.M's skin.

"H-Hold on. So no hero was born?" Dean hears Hughie's voice vibrate above him, feeling the sound waves barley making contact with the metal chair. "None of them? They're all just kids dosed with the blue shit. I mean, even..." 

"Even fucking Starlight. Along with the cunt here." Butcher interupts Hughie. Eyeing Dean as he mentioned him in the situation.

Dean feels Hughie's hands grab the chair with more force behind him as he stayed silent. "Do you think- do you think they know? What really happened to them?"

No one answered Hughie's questions, most of them knew the answer already but Dean decided to input more knowledge. He leans forward, putting his elbows against his knees. He first faced Hughie. "Most likely not, done at birth, NDA agreements given to not speak about it and in return, get money." Hughie looks into his eyes with an unknown emotion to Dean. He simply nods and looks down. Dean then looks foward. "Fortunately, I know I was given it like that at birth."

The sound of Butcher's scoff halts him. Everyone looks to him, M.M and Frenchie had more meaning behind their eyes than Dean understood. "Got something to say brit?" Dean utters with vile at Butcher.

"You really don't know, do you lad?" Butcher questions, dumbfounded at his naive mind.

Dean leans back and mansplains his legs. He points a hand at Butcher's mysterious accusation. "The hell you talking-"

Before Dean could say more, M.M interupts and beckons at Butcher. "Butcher!" M.M yells, shrugging his shoulders. Giving a decoded meaning behind it. Yet again unknown to Dean.

Butcher laughs and rolls his eyes at everyone idle faces. "What? It's fun picking at the sorry cunt."

"Not the time." Frenchie quietly says but was heard from everyone.

"The whole lot of ya got a cock up your bum." Butcher comment's with distaste at their tense reactions.

Dean still holds suspicion at their wording. He went to speak more but Hughie places a delicate hand on his jacketed shoulder. He quietly spoke not near Dean's ear, knowing he could still hear him. "Not worth it Dean."

His calm but timid voice settles Dean into a state of content for the situation being. He sighs and pats Hughie hand in appreciation, it retracts after getting the message.

Butcher exhales and spoke after riding down his unusual laughter. "What about Homelander?" He asks.

M.M shoulders fall down from the tension, Butcher stirred up. "Homelander's a black hole. Never had any public records and never will. You could probably name some off the bat though?" M.M hints to Dean.

Dean nods. If Homelander wasn't a supe, he sure would be a criminal with lots of charges on him. "Uh Yeah, public indecency as a first."

"Wouldn't hold it that against that fuck." Butcher comment's through a series of dry laughter.

M.M and Dean rolls their eyes. "Anyway," M.M continues. "Every single other supe, juiced up lab rats."

The woman comes again from the corner and makes an even more of a mess much to M.M's irritation from her. It seems he finally snaped at her antics. "My god. I'm trying to give a tremendous fucking TED talk here, and this," Not having a certain word for her, M.M alerts Frenchie. "Frenchie. Can you control her, please?" Even in times of dire, humans still plead for unimportant reasons. Dean would never find John pleading for anything, or even show the tiniest hint of vulnerability. How he wish John had something of that sort. He rubs his nose subconsciously as he watches their banter.

"I do not control her." Frenchie says, finding his demand ludicrous.

"Do you see what I'm dealing with?" M.M scoffs and beckons at Butcher's.

Dean feels Hughie presence not longer behind him. It was like, sometimes you know when someone is starring at you, you get that weird tingling sensation. He turns his head and sees him going the direction the girl went. He had nothing else to do in the moment so he followed him. They went down to small steps and bend down to see the woman's drawings. Dean bends his knees and inspects them without touching it.

"Uh, hi..." Hughie starts but didn't know what else to say.

Dean hums and smiles at the woman. "Quite the artist."

She didn't respond to either of them but watched their every move. Dean sees Hughie reaching for one when the woman snarls and crawls at them full speed. Dean pushes Hughie back and outstretched his other hand ready for her to make another move while his other is kept at Hughie's chest. His outstretched hand beginning to form a blue color.

"Hughie, no!" Frenchie commands. Dean huffs as he watches the woman, making sure she didn't move any more towards Hughie. "No. No. No. Not if you're attached to that hand no."

Frenchie then faces to Dean. "And Dean- monsieur. You don't need to resort to violence everytime. She will not harm your petite Hughie, unless he gives her a reason to."

"Uh-huh," Dean says nonchalantly. He looks back and forth between him and the woman glaring at them both. "Then what the hell was that?"

Frenchie groans and leans against the wall. "You touched her things. I would suspect she would get mad. Would she not?"

Dean kept his hand still in place until Hughie spoke. "Dean, it's okay, my fault." Hughie's hand that was placed on his shoulder again, calmed him. He turns his head and finds Hughie face right next to his cheek. His looks to Hughie's eyes then to his lips for a minor second.

Hughie smiles at him seeing Dean's inner conflict about the situation. He continues to smile with his lips pulling into eachother.

Dean doesn't smile for a few seconds, figuring out how to respond. He then looks away. "Fine." He lets his hand dim down and places it at his side as he stands up.

"It's okay, yeah." They hear Frenchie say to the woman.

They both return to the guys and stand idle, listening to what they continue to chat on about. "Well, you know, all of this, uh it's- but it's only part of the story, no? I mean, what about our petite Lazarus here? She's not an infant," Frenchie gestures towards the woman still drawing on the ground.

Hughie finds comfort in the moment by standing behind Dean from the woman. He then follows him as he rest on the side of a wall.

"And she was injected in a basement, not a hospital. And there is a small matter of that she rose from the dead." Frenchie adds on.

"Well, your feral pixie dream girl ain't exactly dictating her fucking memoirs, is she, Frenchie?" Butcher chimes in.

"I'm feeling she's trying to communicate. I mean, she's been doing this for..." frenchie hints at her drawings. "maybe that means something, huh?"

"Yeah, maybe they're just fucking chicken scratches." Butcher jokes.

"Let's find out." Frenchie announced with more vigor at Butcher's distrust in his reasoning.

M.M waves his hand, disagreeing. "Nah, you've been burned. It's not sage out there for you."

"M.M right. You got to fucking stay put, son." Butcher tells Frenchie.

He scoffs and walks off. "Fantastique."

After a few seconds of no one talking, Butcher speaks again. "All right. I'm off." He announces.

"Okay. I'll just uh, keep on Starlight then, right?" Hughie says.

Dean stretches his arms and rest on the couch next to him, avoiding stepping on the woman's drawings. He closes his eyes as he rest his head on top of the couch. Finding the few seconds his receive of rest, exhilarating in the sense of relaxing. He drowned out everyone and every sound until his heard his name. He admittedly has selective hearing when it comes to him.

"Wait, what about Dean?" Hughie asks. He opens his eyes and turns his head, seeing Butcher leaving with Hughie.

"What about him Hughie? You two been on eachothers ass lately, why not part for a bit eh? He'll be fine, these fuckers can't dent him even if they wanted to."

Hughie remains conflicted until Butcher insitant voice hollers at him. "Come on lad."

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   Dean sits across from M.M as he lazily spins a pen on the white table. As M.M conversates with Frenchie about the woman who sits on the red couch, who's eyes remain on the TV. They were talking about on how to figure out who she was and how she came to be. Dean was interested but he really is hitting close to his vacation limit. He has to leave soon.

He kept spinning the pen as m.m keeps talking to French. Dean caught m.m.'s eyes at his fumbling, it seemed to have agrivated him, because m.m quickly grabs the pen and puts it back to where he had it placed perfectly. Dean stares at him, then huffs, looking away.

"Mesmer." Frenchie's words struck familiarity in Dean. He didn't hate the guy but he didn't like him. He just gave a weird vibe to Dean, despite him being a supe. Dean psychically shifts in his seat at the name.

"Mesmer?" M.m voices Frenchie's words, puzzled at why he was brought into the equation. "You want help from another supe? We got one on our dick already, Frenchie."

Dean sees both their eyes look at him but he simply shrugs at m.m.'s words, not taking offense. He's been called worse.

Frenchie shifts closer in his seat. "He despised Vought, hates them, hates the other supes. Just like our freind here. And the enemy of your enemy..." Frenchie insinuates.

M.m rolls his eyes. "Frenchie, what part of 'you're burned' do you not understand?"

"Oh, come on. It's a quick trip. Us three will hide in the van. Let's go. In, out, boom, bing." Frenchie pleads.

M.m contemplates his next words, then settles for his best response. "Boom, Bing? Look, I'll tell you what I can do. I can...possibly tattoo 'fuck no' on your ass."

"Ah. Come on." Frenchie yells, getting out of his chair in frustration.

"Best I can do." M.m affirms.

Guess Dean waa going to take a trip with the three again, hopefully the woman doesn't chew his ass along the way. "Well," Dean interupts. He sprung out of his chair, standing up. "Whatever you two decide, I'll be waiting at the van. Not gonna listen to you two heckle eachothers dicks off."

"Ah," Frenchie scoffs. He raises his eyebrows up and down, mischievously. "Bet you like that eh?"

The two men laughed at Frenchie's joke but Dean didn’t. He lets out a stiff laugh and walks to Frenchie. "You're funny-" Dean starts off. He places his hand on Frenchie's red shirt, on top of his shoulder and squeezes it as much as he can. Frenchie's face fuses with pain and laughter as Dean did this.

"We- we were just joking, yeah?" Frenchie questions.

"Yeah- don't do it again." Dean smiled at Frenchie and pats his shoulder. He looks away as he responds. "See yall at the van."

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     "All right. You want to tell me where we're going?" Hughie ask Butcher as they begin to walk down an alley. The sun shining from the west, blinding Hughie everytime he took a glance at Butcher. It was a sight he welcomed far more nowadays. The impending doom that greeted him as he traveled with Butcher balanced out fairly well.

Butcher gazes at Hughie in a peculiar manner. He smiles as he looks foward. "You don't do it anymore." He assessed.

Hughie was confused as to what he was referring to. "What?"

"You know that feeling you get when you tip you chair back too far, and you catch yourself just before you fall?" Butcher hints as a action Hughie used to do with a metaphor.

Hughie waa sightly confused but understood at the same time. Just like someone would agree to something even though they didn't quite understand. "Yeah?" He say more as a questionable agreement.

"You used to look like that all day long." Butcher adds as they continue to walk.

Hughie laughs and looks down, embarrassed at Butcher's surprisingly correct assessment of him.

"But now look at you, neck-deep shit, cool as a cucumber." Butcher comment's, impressed at Hughie's improvement. "You ain't half the twat I thought you were, Hughie."

Hughie feels giddy as he senses a step up in their relationship. He grows confidence and doesn't stammer over his words like he used to do. "You know, you're always calling people 'cunts' or 'twats'. But I just- never really got how that's an insult."

Butcher smirks. "Term of endearment, Hughie. Just like how I call your supe daddy a cunt or twat- depending on how he acts." Butcher suddenly stops and places a hand on Hughie's chest. Hughie gives an unbearable smile to him.

He pats continuously then puts his hands in his pockets. "Speaking of the cunt, somethin' changed between you two." Butcher inquires as his eyes remain on Hughie.

Hughie let's the term he called Dean not affect him. He crosses his arms over his green jacket. "I'm not sure what you mean..."

"Don't be daft Hughie, look- I know I was just pickin at you to for the fun of it but-"

Hughie scratches his nape and stammers, something he tried to get rid of. "No-nothing changed Butcher, you're seeing things."

"Ah, I know what it is," Butcher gets close and spoke lowly, his voice going an octave lower. "You two banged throughout the whole night eh?"

Hughie gets reminded of Dean's mishap at the bar and furrows his eyebrows. He scoffs and walks fowards, done with Butcher teasing. "Butcher don't we got to go to wherever you're taking us? Come on..." Hughie walks foward and leaves the ally way first, looking back at Butcher. "Weirdo...." He mutters.

What was Butcher's fascination about him and Dean's relationship? Was this what goes on between freinds? Yeah he teased Anthony about stuff but Butcher was like a 40-ish man gushing about them. Maybe he wanted Hughie to soften Dean up and get him on his side? Wasn't he already? Hughie didn't know. Besides, they're freinds and he's already interested in someone else...

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