Hughie's heart was pounding harder than it had any right to. It wasn't the kind of adrenaline rush that came with blood and chaos—he'd had too much of that already—this was different. It wasn't like he and you were doing anything criminal—well... depending on how you looked at it; if Butcher ever found out, he'd probably treat it as treason. Not because of some petty reason like being homophobic or otherwise prejudiced—no, it was because you were a supe.

Butcher had drilled into Hughie's head time and time again that he shouldn't let himself get enamoured by a superhero—much less one of the Seven—but Hughie had stopped hearing the warning repeat itself in his head as much as his own heartbeat whenever you were near. You... gee, it was a long story; you were different to the Seven, didn't care so much for fame or money as you did for saving the lives of civilians. Though due to a misunderstanding of what Vought's intentions were, you fell head first into the trap that was the Vought corp. But no matter how often Hughie tried convincing Butcher of your innocence, the Brit stood his ground.

So here they were; Hughie tugging you down a side street, out of sight of the others. Sneakers scuffed against the cracked pavement as adrenaline buzzed through him. The neon signs of the city faded behind them, until all that was left was the soft hush of night. After a bit of walking, they reached a deadend where the couple finally came to a halt. The glow of a nearby streetlamp framed you—superhero and all.. but to Hughie, you didn't look like one of them—Hughie couldn't see you that way, not when the Seven were such assfaces in comparison to the man in front of him.

His eyes darting like Butcher might appear out of thin air. Then, after making sure the coast was clear, Hughie let out a shaky laugh. He was still holding your hand, fingers laced tight like he was afraid to let go. "Sorry," Hughie whispered as he came up, a little breathless. "Butcher's been—uh—hovering again. He'd kill me if he knew I've been seeing you." Hughie's cheeks flushed red, but his eyes stayed locked on you. "But I don't think I care. I just.. I wanted this—us—without him breathing down my neck." And for once, he didn't feel like the small, breakable guy Butcher always had to watch out for. With you, he felt... wanted—alive, even.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Hughie found himself leaning forward and closing the space, his lips brushing against yours. It was clumsy at first—hesitant, warm and a little desperate too—but as soon as you kissed him back, Hughie melted. All that fear of being caught, all the guilt Butcher had planted in him—it all washed away in the taste of the one person he wasn't supposed to want. Hughie's hands found their way to your waist, holding tight, desperate for the closeness.

For the first time in what felt like forever, it was quiet; no shouting, no blood, no schemes—just him and you, stealing a moment that wasn't even really supposed to exist. And at that moment, the only thing Hughie could think of in the moment was; "screw it, Butcher didn't have to know everything."