𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗥 | the boys 2

𝘹𝘪𝘪) 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐍

"Come on, lad. There's a good boy." Butcher irresistibly praised his English Bulldog, Terror, as he followed at his master's feet back into his Aunt's home, where the both of them wiped their feet.

"Billy!" The the elderly woman who owned the house, Judy, called in surprise as he re-entered from the dog walk,"Why didn't you say you were bringing company? And what's this I've been hearing about you having a kid? Why wouldn't you tell me I have a grand niece, eh? Cheeky little sod."

His tired eyes landed upon M.M. and Hughie sat on the sofa, staring up at him hopefully. Before a word escaped his throat, he glanced around the kitchen for a small child. A small child who turned out to be absent. "What are you lot doing here?" He groaned.

"That kid of yours is a smart one." M.M. shrugged,"She heard a dog toy over the phone and I knew you keep Terror at your Aunt's so..." He paused to accept a cookie from the old lady and tucked in.

"Brilliant as ever. Time to go."

"We need you to come help us with Stormfront." Hughie spoke up.

"That what you came all this way for?" He guessed.

"No... we came all this way because Rowan said... she'd set herself on fire if we didn't." He recounted with some horror,"It was actually really scary - she even got the gasoline out and lit a match-"

"Well, that's the kid for you, innit?" Butcher sighed to himself,"Not leaving, eh? Fine. I am." He decided, grabbing his coat and strolling right out of the front door.

He could find somewhere else to settle down, right? He supposed while slamming his car door shut. His head instantly shot up at the sense of life, meeting the dark, long hair and frankly dead eyes of a certain 14 year old he'd recently had trouble keeping out of his thoughts. She didn't speak a word, just leaned on the car and stared blankly at the wing mirror, hardly even responding to his presence. Her eyes were still tinged red, tear tracks staining her face which she had attempted to rub away but just irritated more with her sleeves, meaning a small rash was burning her cheeks and nose.

Butcher nodded indifferently,"Nice afternoon, innit? 'Owt new worth mentioning?"

"Just the one." She murmured softly, eyes still fixed to the mirror, her voice was considerably light and cheerful, given the circumstances.

"What's that?"

Rowan used her hand to usher him towards her, feeling his warm breath hit her damp, shiny cheek. She pointed at the wing mirror, prompting frustration to rumble in his lungs,"What are you fucking looking at?"

She huffed rather irritably and used her hands to position his head directly facing what she had been staring at, an arm resting across his shoulders.

"Ah, fuck me." He whispered, recognising the jet black armour peeping from a roof at the end of the grove. Black Noir.

Rowan let out a small scoff and leaned back into the crook of his neck, snuggling her head up just beneath his jawline and announcing with some satisfaction, her voice a little too comforting for the situation at hand as her skin rubbed up against his,"He found us, old man."

____________________

Rowan hadn't really cared where Butcher was when they were going to find him, as long as he was there. However, she was admittedly surprised to be staring his Aunt Judy in the face once they hurried back inside. She never thought of him as having a family because, for the most part, it had just been the two of them.

Judy followed him around while he flippantly shut the curtains and blinders, eyes eventually landing on the girl with ruffled clothes and tears sitting in the waterlines of her eyes. "Is this the lovely Rowan?"