Work Text:
- I know Mr. Edgar wants me to, and I really need to keep this job. But I couldn’t have imagined I’d have to babysit an, unstable, super-abled kid.
The woman kept walking back and forth in her recently furnitured office while speaking with an ex-peer on the telephone, the chord twirled frantically between her fingers.
It had been weeks since her promotion, and she had been bombarded with classified information, unforeseen duties and various issues of the job. Of all her new tasks the most time and energy consuming ones was managing heroes, some more than others.
- Don’t start now, you know I can’t put in any good word for you or for anyone else, it’s a miracle I’m here. Yes, sure, hear from you again.
And when she thought she was free from colleagues pestering her in her everyday job those same people became subordinates who thought they had a “friend” on the higher floors.
- That’s what you get from being “workplace-friendly”, Madelyn.-- She told herself after hanging up.
Madelyn recollected herself, grabbed her purse and sprinted out of the room. She wasn’t late, but she was running late on being early to a follow-up meeting with the costume department.
The topic that fired up the need for this second appointment was a complaint from her golden boy. Of course she couldn’t send him alone to do anything, that was part of the job.
[. . .]
10:10 a.m.
The kid stood at the center of the room, dressed up in a roughly stitched-up prototype of a suit. He looked away from the mirror in front of him, down at the moquette, getting lost in scraps of cloth and thread that covered the floor.
- Is everything alright with the draft, Ms. Stillwell?
The voice of the seamstress, who wasn’t actually asking, she was quite confident about her work.
John finally looked up at Madelyn, she smiled at him, knowingly.
- Yes, it’s perfect. Am I wrong, John?;
Silence;
- Am I wrong?
Her smile was a neurotic expression, bearing the weight of more than a month worth of a career jump she didn’t expect, and didn’t expect to bring these responsabilities at her door.
- Ma’am.
- Yes?
He grabbed the hem of the cape, briefly looked at himself in the mirror before turning his gaze to Madelyn once more.
- I was expecting it to be like how I drew it.
A little activity Madelyn had designed for him weeks before, trying to make him… more involved in the process, since he didn’t quite look ecstatic about his debut, and all that came with it.
- P.R. already rejected that design. “Too in-your-face”, remember?
- But, respectfully, I think it would be representative. It’s patriotic. It says America, hope, freedom, John Wayne and all that stuff.
The hand motion and scoff he gave after saying all of that made it clear he was bothered.
He regurgitated everything they put in his head, and didn’t understand much of the real meaning behind it all, but at least he seemed to have memorized it.
- I see your point of view, but they know what they’re doing. Let the professionals do the work, you only have to worry about putting it on.
- But you told me I could design my suit, you gave me permission.
She could sense his eyes starting to water, no need to have super powers for that. How do you gracefully scoot away from this situation?
- Well, it looks a lot like your design though, what are we missing? Only the stars and stripes, but you get to keep the eagles. Isn’t that nice John?
She walked behind him, stepping as soft as possible in her heels. Two manicured hands landed on each of the boy’s shoulders, which shivered under her touch.
- Isn’t it nice, The Homelander?
He really looked the part, except from the watery puppy eyes
- Yes, I guess it is.
She had never seen anyone older than 13 pout like that.
- Hm, good--- she left her hands fall to her sides and turned back to the unfazed seamstress –It’s settled then, tomorrow afternoon it must be finished, in my office.
Everyone got ready to leave the room, in absolute silence.
[. . .]
10:30 p.m.
In her bedroom, Madelyn was preparing herself for bed and mentally resuming her schedule for the next day.
She stood in front of the mirror and changed into her night robe, the smooth fabric sliding on her tense body always managed to make her worries vanish… not that night though.
Looking at her reflection, she recollected the image from earlier that day, of her standing next to a not much convincing The Homelander, she sighed.
That sparked much thought in her, like how they should drop the The, how she had recently learned everything about the kid’s “upbringing”, and how stupid those scientists, psychiatrists, so on and so forth, were, letting America’s future sweetheart grow up without a backbone. A whiny and sad mess of a kid, left alone to himself, without anyone caring for him.
Well, now he had someone, she was being paid to care for him and listen to his complaints. Yes, now he had her, but did he really?
After taking off jewelry and makeup, Madelyn slid under the soft bedsheets, and looked at the ceiling, trying to think of anything else.
She turned the light off.
[. . .]
2:00 a.m.
One of the perks of being a high-up is being to call anyone below you at any hour of the day.
-… Yes, all those changes--- She remembered the feel of the kid’s shoulders under her touch – and make sure to add some padding. Yes, same hour, I know it won’t be a problem.
[. . .]
1:00 p.m.
Madelyn walked into her office and found herself facing a mannequin wearing the suit, crafted following the original design of a very picky artist.
She sat down at her desk and clicked on the intercom’s mic;
- Maria, direct him to my office when you catch him.
[. . .]
1:15 p.m.
Two knocks on the door interrupted Madelyn’s lunch, which consisted of some water crackers she stuffed in her bag before leaving the house that morning, too tired to prepare anything else.
- Come in!
The door got shyly opened by John, who as opposed to his demeanor, stood straight in all his might. He was wearing a sports undersuit, which he could wear around the structure while his suit was being ultimated.
He knew he was there to try on his suit, but he didn’t look excited to do so. In fact, his expression stayed unaltered from the day before.
- Good morning, Ms. Stillwell.
He smiled for a fraction of a second, before dropping the sides of his mouth, but for that moment he was picture-perfect.
- Good morning, my hero! – she stood up, smiling back, half performative, half… hopeful – I have a surprise ready for you.
The kid rolled his eyes and chuffed;
- It’s not a surprise if I already know what’s under there.-- He pointed towards the mannequin, which was covered by a white sheet.
- Just go and take a look.
Skeptical, a young Homelander approached the mannequin and revealed the suit underneath with a swift motion.
He couldn’t contain the smile on his face.
- It’s just like how I wanted it! It looks exactly like what I had in mind-– he looked behind, grabbed the cape --And the stripes are there as well… what about P.R.? Did you convince them?
- They don’t know. It’s not an issue. Wear it.
John was so excited for the try-on, he took it off the mannequin and wore it in total silence. He clumsily slid the two-piece on while still wearing the undersuit, the thought of stripping down in Madelyn’s office appeared in his mind as fast as it went away.
It was on, but he couldn’t figure out the cape attachment, and the struggle didn’t pass unnoticed by Madelyn.
- Here, let me do it.
An order, not much of a request. So he let her, while putting on the gloves, and keeping his head high.
Her hands were on his neck for a brief moment, just enough for her warmth to linger on the fabric of the neck-piece.
And there he was.
Homelander looked around, searching for a mirror, not finding one, he turned back around and faced Madelyn.
- How do I look?
Apart from a feeble uncertainty in his eyes and voice, he looked perfect.
- Like an hero. The hero, The Homelander.
She stepped towards him, and inspected the craft closely.
It had been finished in less than twelve hours, because of her specific request, so she had to check if the risk she took was about to become career-threatening. The padding really helped shaping his figure, and it looked so real it could’ve fooled most. The fabric pattern looked even better on the finished product, small little emblems glistened in the morning light.
After having observed seams, touched details and inspected the width of the stripes of his cape, she looked up at him. A young face, both easy and difficult to read at times.
- Do I look… good?
He asked again, impatient to have an answer, even if he could’ve found it in her eyes.
She stepped back, an unexpected feeling started growing inside her chest.
- You look almost perfect.
John was confused, and not completely satisfied by his Boss’ response.
- Smile for me.
He did, and Madelyn lifted a hand to cup his cheek.
- My perfect hero, look at you...
The reaction from the boy was priceless. He fell silent, looked away from her and immediately became warmer under her touch.
- Who are you?
It took him a moment to settle back from where he was heading with his thought;
- I’m The Homelander. I am America’s number one hero. I’m…
- You’re a God, a pure and perfect being.
And there he was. Powerful, beautiful, a ray of sunshine. And it was all because of her.
In a single restless night, she figured out how to keep at bay the effect of years of solitude, isolation, and parasocial interactions. He was there to be molded by her, they gave her a base, a wounded, imperfect being. It was her job now to complete the vision. Now, every time the hero would wear that suit, he knew he was The Hero… or at least he was Madelyn’s.
And after a month of complaints, constant whining and silence, John leaned his head towards Madelyn’s hand, the first genuine, warm, touch he had ever received.