Work Text:
"I dunno, I wouldn't really say you're God." I mumbled, not even looking up as I continued mending the torn cape in my hands.
Homelander's lip quivered in anger as he turned on his heel to glare at me. His voice was unnervingly calm as he spoke. "Care to repeat that?"
"You're not really God."
Homelander visibly fought back his anger as he forced a smile and laughed. "And why do you say that?"
He stepped closer, looming over me in an effort to intimidate. I just shrugged.
"C'mon, you can't be that dense. God's a coward, everyone knows that. He hides away in Heaven, refuses to face the men he claims to love. He sends his sons to do all his bidding, he never wants to get his hands dirty. God doesn't have the balls to look his creations in the face and tell them they're wrong, that they're flawed– that they are the humans and he is God."
Homelander's face was unreadable as he processed the words given to him. I stood up, cape finished and spotless, and circled the hero. I carefully reattached the edges to his shoulders, restoring glory to his costume.
"You aren't God." I repeated. I then leaned in close to his ear to whisper. "You're something much more powerful."
With that, I left the room, leaving Homelander to process his latest ego boost.