Chapter Text
Suburbia IV – English Boodles
“Sooo...”
Billy closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose and blew it out slowly counting to ten. He had been waiting for Hensen’s tittering to start as soon as the doors to the elevator closed. The younger agent had just made it despite Billy pressing the Close Door button repeatedly. At least it had taken him half the ride to the parking garage to start talking.
“Does he cook?”
Billy snorted. “Not a chance.”
How John had managed to give all three of them, near-immortal level Supes, fucking food poisoning of all things, was still beyond him. Years later, Billy still didn’t know how his husband managed to fuck it up that badly.
“Clean?”
“We have housekeeping,” said Billy. “If you’re trying to suss out what he does all day the answer is whatever the fuck he wants – within fucking reason.”
“Like what? It’s just, just...how did you get him to just...stay home?”
Billy shrugged. “He always loved the idea of a white picket fence more than he ever loved Vought.”
The elevator doors slid open and Billy made a bee-line for his SUV, thankful for his naturally long stride so that it didn’t look like he was trying to get out of the conversation.
John was his, and he wasn’t going to dissect their life too much. Hensen was unusually brave for a junior, and it made Billy pretty sure the other agents were pooling questions for him to ask Billy because he was, after all: Agent William J. Butcher, the man who tamed The Homelander and turned him Federal Witness against Vought International.
He was the man who settled Homelander down after a few years of increasingly bizarre public behaviour, married him, and made a happy little house-husband out of him (if John’s social media accounts were anything to go by anyway). Despite being told to keep a low profile, John’s continued social media presence had probably made them the worst kept open secret in the country by now.
“So...how did...”
“Is there a betting pool, son?” asked Billy opening the car door and climbing into his seat.
“What? Why would -”
“If there is, I want to know what you lot think I did to win him.” Billy grinned and laughed at Hensen’s rapidly opening and closing mouth. He gave the lad a mock salute as he closed the door, slid his keys home, and peeled out of his parking space.
There had to be a bet.
And honestly, Billy would be disappointed in his colleagues if there wasn’t.
Chuckling to himself, he let himself relax on his commute. He wondered if John had figured out his little spat with Kim yet. He’d been bitching about her giving him the cold shoulder for the last few weeks and Billy’s advice had been to stop trying to spy with his senses and to actually go and talk to her.
Who knew if John would actually take his advice or not, it all depended on how long he wanted their one-sided cold war to continue. John claimed that he didn’t do anything in recent memory so she shouldn’t be mad at him for anything.
Eventually he turned into the residential streets and stopped at the gate to their community and put in the code for entrance. Moving once again he took in the ridiculously immaculate lawns, trees, and flowers, and the equally ridiculous houses. He’d never lived in anything other than barracks or flats until they moved to D.C.
Sometimes, that small part of himself that was still from the wrong side of London wondered what the fuck he was doing living in a place like this. The other part of him however, said he fucking deserved this after everything he went through to get there; also it was John’s money that bought the house, so did it really count?
Turning into the driveway, he shut off the SUV, and was barely out of it when the front door of the house flew open and John came stalking towards him, face like thunder.
“Take these to Kim and fucking apologize to her, you asshole! This whole thing is your fault!”
Billy found a giant bag of dog food slammed into his left arm and a small piece of paper shoved into his other hand. He looked down at the bag that had a different piece of white paper haphazardly taped to it, John’s normally elegant handwriting had been replaced with careless giant blocky capital letters: ALIMONY + CHILD SUPPORT.
“Congratulations, William,” snapped John crossing his arms and glaring. “You’re a grandfather.”
“What the fuck, John?”
“Terror,” John bit through gritted teeth, “got out of the fucking yard and fucked her fucking poodle!”
“John-”
“Don’t ‘John’ me! You told me to go talk to Kim, so I did.” John started pacing, amping up as he went. “And it turns out that Terror knocked up her Blue Ribbon 1st Prize Winning purebred show poodle that she breeds in the off-season for $7000 per puppy!”
Billy finally looked down at the paper in his right hand. It was a cheque for $21,000.
“She started being a bitch to me after her Vet confirmed that the surprise mutts were half bulldog. And we are the only ones in this neighbourhood with a fucking bulldog, William!”
“How did he even get out of the backyard?” asked Billy. “Not like he dug a hole under two fences.”
John laughed without humour, his eyes taking on that old Homelander glint.
“Oh, there is more. Come right back home after you’re done and do not dally.”
Billy watched John march away from him, slamming the front door as he went inside. Billy was really glad he’d had the door and its frame reinforced with steel as the first time John had ever slammed the door long ago it had ended up in the middle of their lawn.
Billy loosened his tie and undid the top three buttons of his dress shirt as he came in through the back gate. Kim’s house was right behind theirs, their back yards separated by the alley. He’d taken a turn down said alley on his way back to investigate the fence lines and found nothing. No holes, no loose boards, he couldn’t find anything by their fence that Terror could have gotten through.
He shook his head as he entered the house, expecting to hear John ranting. So it was an odd scene when he came into the living room to find John standing across the room from Ryan glaring silently with his arms crossed.
And Ryan was...ignoring John in favour of the black and white puppy in his arms.
A light woof from Terror greeted Billy and when he turned to acknowledge his dog he found Terror with two more cream-coloured puppies cuddled up beside him in his dog bed.
“Tell your father what you did,” John bit out and Billy couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth. Every time John called him Ryan’s father it filled his chest with warmth. It couldn’t be helped.
“You tell him,” said Ryan, rolling his eyes and kissing the puppy on the head. “We both know you want to be dramatic about it.”
“You are grounded.”
“You can’t ground me for something I did four years ago!” Ryan protested.
“I didn’t know about it four years ago!”
“What’d he do?” asked Billy crossing his arms.
John turned to him and glared intact. “He gave your fucking dog Compound V and that’s how he got out of the yard.”
“Well, maybe Kim shouldn’t have let Lady Patricia out when she was in heat,” muttered Ryan.
“Dogs in heat still need to piss somewhere! And maybe someone,” John glare intensified at Billy, “should have neutered his dog.”
“Oi, I wasn’t going to lop me boy’s bollocks off.”
Billy watched John’s eyes narrow. “William...I just said your dog is a Supe. Why aren’t you more surprised?”
Billy shrugged one shoulder and signed. “Sort of figured one of you might have done it at some point.”
“What?”
He sighed and looked between Ryan and John. “John luv, Terror is almost twenty years old. He was an old man when Ryan first met him. English Bulldogs live around eight to ten years and my boy is double that and somehow healthy. I was starting to suspect he’d been dosed.” Billy looked at Ryan pointedly.
“I didn’t want him to die,” said Ryan, shrugging. “And dad had Compound V just lying around the penthouse.”
“It wasn’t lying around!” John protested. “I kept it hidden! It was behind the wall!”
“Yeah, and I can see through those,” said Ryan.
John breathed loudly though his nose before turning back to Billy. “I can’t believe you knew about this.”
“Suspected,” corrected Billy. “And you’re sure they’re Terror’s? I checked the fence and there’s no way he got out.”
“Oh,” said John laughing humourlessly, eyes flat. “Watch.”
He walked over to Terror’s dog bed and grabbed one of the puppies. Holding it at chest height he dropped it. Billy eyebrows rose, too shocked at John’s actions to do anything, but...fuck, fucking...
Billy ran a hand over his mouth as he watched the puppy stop short of hitting the ground and just...floated there.
The puppy...floated. Half a foot above the living room floor, kicking it’s little legs and starting to go in circles.
He heard Terror bark lightly and get up to grab the puppy stuck in mid-air and take it back to the dog bed. It took a few licks for it to settle back firmly on the ground.
“Are you saying...”
“Terror can fly,” confirmed John. “And he likely flew over the fences and knocked up Lady Patricia with these, these monsters.”
“Dad, come on...”
“No! Look at them!” John cried, pointing at the two with Terror. “They’re hideous! Those two they’re, they’re ugly little walking shag carpets. Only that one,” he pointed at the one Ryan had, “looks normal. What even is a ‘Boodle’?”
“So we can keep him because he’s cute?” asked Ryan smiling. “I’ve already named him Terror II.”
John threw his hands up in the air. “Great, fine, whatever, keep that one, but it is entirely your responsibility. And now I have to find Supes that can fly to take care of the other two freaks.”
Billy shook his head and took in the scene happening before him and just started laughing. He couldn’t help it, he just laughed. Out of all the things he could have come home to, John losing it over Terror’s ugly floating children and the confirmation that Ryan had indeed slipped his dog Compound V was not what he expected.
“Wow,” said John, issuing Billy a heated glare. “Am I the only one taking this seriously? Do either of you care that I’m guilty by association?”
Billy snorted. “What?”
“This is both your faults,” John waved his hand between Billy and Ryan. “For once, I am innocent. Completely innocent, I had nothing to do with this!”
“Except for making V readily accessible to me,” muttered Ryan.
“No one asked you to x-ray the walls! And I didn’t think you were going to inject a dog!” John waved his hand angrily at Terror.
Shaking his head Billy sat down on the couch next to Ryan and reached over to pet Terror II. He looked mostly bulldog, whereas the other two took more after their Poodle mother.
“How long have you known Terror could fly?” he asked Ryan as John’s ranting continued in the background.
“Couple years,” said Ryan, finally starting to look bashful. “He doesn’t do it a lot though, he’s kind of lazy.”
“He’s an old man.”
“You’re not mad?”
Billy shrugged. “I’ve suspected for a while. Got used to the idea, and he didn’t seem no different.”
Ryan shook his head. “Nah, same old Terror.”
“And no razor sharp teeth or taste for blood, aye?”
“What? No! Why?” Ryan looked at him with wide eyes.
“Good.” Billy shrugged. “No reason.”
“Are either of you even listening to me?”
“Nah, luv. Just letting your beautiful voice wash over me like the sweetest background noise.”
“Ew.” Ryan wrinkled his nose.
Billy nudged him with his elbow. “Shut it.”
John levelled a hard stare at them both before shaking his head and stalking to the kitchen. “I have to make a list, and then I need to go out for supplies..I think I have an idea.”
“John what-”
“As for you two though,” he turned back around the corner to glare at them again. “Grounded.” He pointed at Ryan, and then pointed at Billy. “And you are watching Homelander: Justice Served with me tomorrow night.”
“What?” Billy stared at him as Ryan choked on a laugh.
“I don’t have to do that with you guys, right?”
“No, you’re grounded. That means no tv.”
Ryan nodded sagely, trying to hold in his laughter and failing. “You’re right, dad. I deserve to be grounded for this. Thank you, that is,” he cleared his throat and coughed. “Great parenting, thank you.”
“How is this fair?” asked Billy, staring blankly at John.
“Because you didn’t neuter your dog and now you have made me guilty by association. This is all my walking group is going to talk about for the next week! So your punishment, William, is soothing my fucking ego,” John snapped. “You are going to compliment me every time that I’m on-screen and tell me how good I was in it, and are going to be riveted for the entire 3 hour and 47 minute run time.”
“Can you...can you at least put on the suit and -”
“You are not getting laid. Don’t even think about it.”
“This is the best day of my life,” smiled Ryan giving Terror II a kiss on the head.
“Oi, the reason he got out was because of Ryan.”
“And I’m grounded for that, remember?” said Ryan. “Already punished and everything.” He turned and gave Billy a shit-eating grin complete with a sharp look in his eye that came entirely from his father. “Hey dad,” he called to John, “if Terror was neutered it wouldn’t matter that he can fly, right?”
Billy narrowed his eyes. Oh, you little shit.
“Ryan’s right, William,” John agreed, now yelling at them from the kitchen. “This is mostly your fault. I can’t ground you but I can make you watch my old movies with me if you ever want to touch me again.”
“You’re lucky you’re already grounded,” said Billy, shaking his head at Ryan.
“Enjoy your movie night with dad.” Ryan patted his leg and got off the couch. He tucked Terror II down with Terror and his siblings and gave the dogs his full attention.
Billy ran a hand over his face. “Ah, fuck.”