The bunker was surprisingly empty that afternoon, everyone off doing their own thing. Except for you and Butcher. You were skirting around each other, and you were desperately trying to avoid being alone with the Brit. He already hated your status as a supe, but after you fucked up on the recent mission... yeah it was a miracle you were alive.

All of that avoidance fell through when you walked into the kitchen to see Butcher standing at the coffee machine. You both froze in place and Butcher fixed you with a nasty glare.

Butcher slammed his mug down on the counter. "What the fuck do you want?"

Your heart raced, cheeks flushing. You had hoped to sneak a cup of tea before retreating to the safety of Frenchie's lab, but the universe had different plans. You cleared your throat. "N-Nothing. Just, uh, getting some tea." You reached for the box of tea bags, your hand trembling slightly.

Butcher's gaze bore into you, his eyes like storm clouds ready to unleash. "You know what I fucking hate?" he spat out, his accent thickening with every word. "Supes like you, thinking you're better than everyone else."

Your eyes darted around, trying to figure out if Butcher was wasted again, but finding no alcohol on the counter (for once), "Where...uh.. is this coming from?"

Butcher stepped closer, his body taut with rage. "You know where it's coming from," he snarled, his finger jabbing the air between you. "You think you're so fucking special with your supe tricks, don't you? Thinking you're one of us now. But you'll always be Vought's failed little drug experiment."