𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗥 | the boys 2

𝘹𝘪𝘹) 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐒

"You look like you're gonna' vom." Butcher remarked, finishing his coffee and continuing to stare at her.

"I think I just might." She groaned, reaching for the cup just in case. 

"I dread to think where you'd pick up sommet' like that, if I'm honest." He grimaced, glancing over at the woman in a stripy apron running the truck who was currently making their breakfast.

"Fuck you, I have the strongest immune system you've seen." Rowan defended, to poor extent.

He tried to explain as a cartoon of orange juice and a polystyrene boxed bacon sandwich were placed between them,"Nah, Kid, it don't work like that. Being exposed to the street don't help none-" He snapped his head away, pursing his lips as she groaned as loud as she could to block out his voice. "Look, just fucking eat something." He gave up, nudging the box to her side.

Rowan stretched her back out, whimpering as the daylight hit her face - she couldn't use her hair to hide from the sun any longer. She picked up the bread bun and brought it to her mouth, instantly cringing away from it as soon as the texture brushed her lips. A small voice in the back of her head told her to keep it down, and she obeyed with a small gag. She was clinging to the fact that she had successfully gotten Butcher back. But that adrenaline likely hadn't helped the prevention of whatever was washing the sense out of head. 

"I probably deserve this." She concluded.

"You fuckin' what?"

"They're ashamed." She glared 'knowingly' at the clouds. "Well, I'll bet Dad is. Gotta' feel sorry for Momma, though, y'know?-" 

"You mad little bitch, they ain't telling you shit 'cause no one's fuckin' up there!" Butcher ranted. It may have been considered as a little harsh, but he had principals when it came to that sort of thing. Perhaps he had just brushed over the new information Homelander had given her at Stillwell's house.

"You're right." Rowan crossed her arms,"It's just me."

"It ain't just you-"

"Sure. But, y'know, I kept wondering if there's a little family waiting somewhere down there. Not on some sunny road with sprinklers on the lawn, waiting somewhere I can't get to unless I..." She stared at the strange creases of the bread in front of her,"It's not true, anyway. It's just me. It's-it's stray thoughts like that which made me go insane."

"Like what?" He asked suspiciously.

"I mean I.... I was in there so long, sometimes I just... I wonder. I wonder if, maybe, Compoud V is making me feel like shit. Y'know? Maybe I'm one of them. If my Dad fucking..." Rowan stopped herself by pinching the bridge of her nose. To the blind ear, she could be sobbing, but he could just about make out a smile beneath her hair.

"You ain't one of 'em." Butcher put it plain.

"You don't know that! And would you even want me in your fucking eye line?"

He shuffled on his seat somewhat before speaking in a low growl,"Now, you listen 'ere: you ain't fucking one of 'em, never will be. I don't care if you could throw me off a building without laying a finger on me - Rowan Fields, you are not a fucking supe. Understand?"