you knew that supes weren’t good people—the majority of them, at least—and you’d been around enough to see it firsthand, fighting alongside butcher and the rest of the boys, trying to take down vought as part of all your own personal vendettas.

but still, soldier boy was a rude awakening.

the foul-mouthed supe who just poked and prodded and jabbed. he just couldn’t help himself, always throwing offhanded offensive comments your way and making rude remarks whenever he could. it was like he got off on seeing you react.

you butted heads like no other. the pair of you were like oil and water; not made to interact. you hated him, and he… well, you supposed he hated you too, with the way he constantly set out to get under your skin.

and it didn’t help that butcher decided to make you soldier boy’s very own babysitter for the time being, leaving you alone in dingy motel rooms with only the rotten supe for company, while the rest of the pack gets to make headway on tracking down soldier boy’s former teammates.

it was fucking annoying. but butcher swears it's only because “he listens to you, love.”

yeah, right. soldier boy wouldn’t even piss on you if you were set on fire. he’d probably just stand there and laugh with his stupid smirk.

the same smirk that refuses to leave his face whenever you're in the room.

“hey, toots. d’you mind getting me a top up?” ben asks, his eyes locked onto you as he gestures to the whiskey bottle on the table with his head.

you scoff, already irritated at the fact you’d been left to babysit again. “no, get it yourself.”

“sweets, have some compassion for an old-timer like me. i'm savin’ my energy for when your sweet ass needs this big, strong hero to fight, yeah? so be a doll and bring me my damn whiskey.”

your eyes meet his from across the motel room, and you can tell he’s watching you, studying, waiting to see if you’ll take the bait.