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You were just a mere underpaid employee, working in a rundown cafeteria 12 hours straight almost every day. Today, the night shift was yours. And you finished it without any major issues. Only the usual annoying customers. The worst part of any job. You sighed as the stain on the counter was particularly hard to wash.
A glimpse of your reflection in a cheap tray caught your attention; God, you looked like a mess. Dark and big bags were located under your eyes. Your fingers went up to push some strands of your hair back; the hair tie was suffering to hold everything in place after that long and unbearable day. Poor thing. Thinking now, it has been a while since you had a boyfriend; that must be one of the reasons.
You sighed and stopped yourself before you got lost in thoughts about how your life has been shitty recently. Ignoring any self-depreciative comment that your mind could make about your round belly, you immediately went back to rub that insistent stain. You would kill the next customer who dropped his coffee immediately after you handed it over.
The ring of a bell made you jump in place; turning around, you saw the figure of a man standing in front of the door. He probably ignored the "closed" plaque. A hoodie covered his features, so you couldn't exactly pinpoint what he was thinking about, but he seemed nervous, almost anxious. His body wouldn't stop fidgeting. "Sir, we're closed now. If you want some coffee, I suggest that you return tomorrow. "He ignored your words and approached the counter. He threw a mere dollar on it. "Coffee. Black coffee with milk and a spoonful of sugar. No frilly toppings. Make it quick." He said? No. More like he demanded it. His tone was cocky and arrogant.
That made you frown; your hands went to rest on your hips as you faced him. "Like I said, we're closed. Don't you know how to read? The door clearly said 'closed.' So either you get out, or I'm calling the cops." You stood your place, firmly. You didn't care about how much he barked at your face; your shift ended, so you weren't making even one more coffee tonight.
Your bold and condescending retort clearly caught that man off guard, because it was clear how his posture got even more tense as he raised his voice at you. "Listen here, you bitch! You're just a lowlife, bottom-feeder worker at this rundown cafeteria. So you better make me a drink, or else. …"
That didn't scare you at all; if anything, you were even angrier at this prideful and cocky "customer." Who did he think he was? You could be a mere underpaid worker, but you're an underpaid worker. And everyone knew they shouldn't mess with your kind. So instead of obeying, you stood your ground and crossed your arms. Not moving at all. "Okay, listen. You have the audacity to enter a closed business and demand to be treated like a prince? How old are you? Four? Not gonna happen. Either you pay the full amount and politely ask me again for a coffee, just so I can even consider making it for you, or you get the hell out of here before I call the police."
The way you treated that strange figure must surely have pissed him off. Because the next thing you knew, there was a fist being thrown at your face. So he was really going to take that game so far? Fine. You quickly got out of the way and locked him from behind in an arm wrench. Those self-defense classes really paid off now.
The man struggled and thrashed in your grip. Strange. He was tall and seemed to be strong. While you were just a short woman. And the grip wasn't extremely tight either. He should have been capable of getting himself free from your grip after a few moments. But no matter how much he twisted, he didn't seem to be putting a real effort into it. So, you decided to drop him. Bad timing. He lost his balance and fell on the floor. Oh great, you're definitely going to get your ass sued now.
His hoodie probably loosened after all his squirming, so it fell off his head when he tried to get up. So now you could take a good look at his appearance. Wait… Realization slowly dawned on your features as you recognized that man. "What the…Homelander?" That man froze in the middle of a curse that was probably toward you. Realizing too late that his face was now fully exposed, his hands flew to try to tug the hoodie back. But he seemed to realize that it was already too late for that. So he gave up with a big defeated sigh.
When you took a better look at him, you realized how battered up and defeated he looked now. Looking nothing like the prideful and homicidal hero he was before. He tried to get up quickly, but almost fell again, so he ended up holding himself over one of the tables. Something about that scene really struck your heart. "Stop that. Don't pull that crap on me. I don't need your pity." He spat those words at you. Probably trying to gather what was left of his wounded pride.
You remembered the news that you saw a few days ago. He was caught in a trap by some people whose names you didn't care about remembering. But any further information wasn't provided, so you turned off the TV and went about your day.
Slowly the dots connected in your mind, and then everything made sense. "So, you got depowered, huh? Damn, they really caught you there. Take a seat; I will see if I can scrape up some coffee for you." You turned and went toward the machine, turning it on. Doing one more coffee wouldn't kill you, and surely he seemed to be needing it.
"Shut up, stupid woman. Don't you dare act so condescending to me… Like I said, I don't need your pity." He crossed his arms over his chest but obediently took a seat at the same table he was leaning over. His eyes focused on everywhere but you. Adorable. Was the word that crossed your mind. He was like a wounded animal, full of doubts and fear, but refusing to show any sign of insecurity bubbling to the surface.
You just hummed in agreement without even listening to what he was saying, focused on pouring a bit of milk and a spoonful of sugar into the coffee you were making. Then one of the breads caught your attention, so you added one to his plate. "I didn't order that. What are you planning?" He asked as soon as you placed the plate in front of him. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at the food like it was a personal offense. You couldn't help but laugh as you took the other seat across from him. "Don't mind it. We're going to throw that away anyway. Feel free to dig in," you smiled, elbow resting on the table as your chin was placed on the palm of your hand.
He kept staring at the plate for a whole minute before taking a sip and a small bite. You could see the moment that a sparkle of gratitude reflected on his eyes. God, he looked terrible now that you're able to see him closely. One thing was for sure, he wasn't the same 'hero' from before. Something about that new raw side of him really got you, and now you didn't wanted to return to the plastic one that everyone was used to. The next words escaped your lips instinctively. "Do you have a proper place to stay? I mean, I live on my own and I could surely get used to a roommate. You wouldn't have to worry about paying me rent, just helping me tidy the place would be enough". You felt like you were trying to caught a small fish with a big bait.
"Wait, what? Why… Why are you offering me that? You saw everything I did… Anyway, I don't need your fake compassion." He crossed his arms and stared at the table. It seems like he was holding on to the little pride he still had. His nose twitched; you didn't know if it was from the scent of coffee or disgust at your offer.
"Oh, come on. Think about it. Having a roof over your head would definitely help you put your life back on the rails. I'm not asking without considering all the implications. And you surely need a bath, just saying." You raised your hands in a peace offering before reaching your hand toward his over the table and waited. He seemed to flinch before considering everything you just said. Your eyes fell onto his lips. Damn… Then he seemed to snap back to reality and hesitantly reached to shake your hand. Quickly your gaze went back to his eyes, and you smiled, satisfied. Gladly he didn't caught you staring.
"This is only temporary," he added, and you nodded. It was hard to hide your enthusiasm. His fingers were cold against your warm hand. Soon something caught your attention on the back of his hand, so you turned it and held it between yours. His eyes widened slightly as he tried to pull his hand back, but you didn't allow that. God, they really depowered him for good. He seemed unable to even defend himself against a drunk beggar. A shiver went up your spine as you pictured him alone on the streets. Poor thing.
You shifted your eyes to the back of his hand again, and surely you could see some scars. They seemed to be new ones, probably happening after losing his powers. You carefully rubbed your thumbs over the pinkish skin and asked gently, "Do they still hurt?" He seemed to be taken aback by the sudden question, his eyes too busy staring at the empty mug to answer. Oh, that probably was a sensitive topic. "Sorry for asking. I will finish closing this place, and then I can show you my apartment. Okay? Just be patient; can you do that for me?" Your words were soft, and the tone was caring.
He froze in the spot, his hand tensed under yours before he shyly nodded in agreement. "Fine…" He whispered in a tone that was nothing like himself. It was hesitant but somehow obedient. Like a small kid being asked a favor by his mother. You couldn't help but offer him a comforting smile before finally releasing his hand from your warm grip. And for a second, you swore that you heard him whine at the loss.
You cleaned everything in half the time you usually did. While you mopped the floor and closed the cashier, a million thoughts went through your head; you couldn't believe the chances, but you held on to them firmly. The spare bedroom could be his, and you still had some blankets; the problem was the clothes. Stealing a glance back at him, you saw how battered his clothes were. So you couldn't ask for him to wear them again. It was past ten too. No shop was still open. Oh, you remembered the shirt you bought online that came in a larger size than you expected; after contacting the seller, they refused to change it. So you just kept it when you were sleeping. Probably it would fit him.
Soon the shop was clean and ready to be closed. You stamped your card and gestured for him to follow you. Once outside you locked the door and turned back at him. He seemed smaller than before; exhaustion was clearly fighting against his ego. You placed a hand on his shoulder and assured him that your place wasn't far from there. His eyes stared at your hand before you pulled it back. It must have been only your imagination when you thought that you saw a sparkle of longing reflected in his eyes at the loss.
You two walked side by side; the streets were dark and the breeze was cold. But you didn't mind; you loved this after a whole day of working with hot machines. Stealing a peek at his face, right on time, you saw his eyes snapping away from you. Oh, so he was staring? You smiled and teased him with a nudge on his arm. He frowned before rolling his eyes. "I wasn't." Was the only thing he said. You accepted the answer, not wanting to annoy him further.
Soon you two were in front of your door; the building wasn't anything fancy or luxurious. But the price was fair, and the location was good. You unlocked it and held the door open for him. "First the ladies," you winked, feeling bold to tease that man today. If he still had his powers, he would probably blow your head off for that. But the best he could do was give you a firm stare before entering with a resignation expression; he looked like a person who had accepted his fate.
You followed him inside and stared at his face while he analyzed your choices of decoration. It was basic, but you liked that. That's what made that place feel like a home to you. He was probably used to fancy buildings and minimalist expensive items, but thankfully he didn't add any insulting comments. Instead, he walked toward your couch and fell on it. You could see the exact moment when his muscles melted against the soft cushions. That sight stole a smile out of your lips and made your chest warmer.
You went to the kitchen and started to heat some leftovers for him. Tomato soup and homemade bread. Something easy for his stomach now. You left the pot heating on the stove and went to fetch the items that you thought about before. Blankets, a pillow, and the oversized shirt. After some searching, you finally found one pair of shorts that would probably fit his figure. You were proud of yourself.
When you returned to the living room, you weren't surprised to see that he had fallen asleep against the couch. He surely was exhausted; losing everything he had and his own identity surely wasn't easy, but he had you now. You weren't going to let go of him.
You reached to put your hand on his shoulder and gently shook it. Incoherent words left his lips as tired and annoyed eyes slowly opened to face you. With a smile, you handed him the clothes and told him where the bathroom was. He seemed confused when he stared at the clothes but accepted your gentleness and went to take a bath. The gratitude was hidden on his features, but you still could see it.
You went to the spare bedroom and placed the blankets and pillow on the bed. You didn't know why you kept that room, since you never had any guests over. But now, it all made sense. It was your fate to take that ex-hero in. You smiled to yourself before returning to the kitchen; you poured the soup and the bread into a bowl and placed it on the table while waiting.
You heard the water being turned off. So you patiently waited a bit longer. His figure left the bathroom; now he was clean. Without all that dust and misery, he seemed younger than before. And seeing him wearing your clothes, that fact really pleased you. "Come on, I'm in the kitchen. I heated some food for you." Soon he was taking a seat across from you. His eyes faced the warm soup; thin lines of steam were floating over the bowl, crashing against his face. He frowned before his fingers hesitantly reached for the spoon; he fidgeted for a few seconds before placing it inside the soup. "You didn't have to do that." You blinked, taken aback by his remark.
"Oh, it's no problem. Really, it's just some soup and…." He interrupted you; his eyes were hardening as they shifted away from the food to stare directly at your eyes. "You know what I meant. You didn't have to make coffee for me, care about my scars, or take me in, and you also didn't need to make me food or lend me some clothes. That doesn't make any sense. What game are you playing? What do you want?" His eyes were narrowed and full of insecurity and doubts about your intentions.
God, that man never received any genuine kindness before? "I get where that is coming from. It's unusual for someone to take an unknown person in, just because. But I swear that I don't have any ulterior intentions. I was always told to spread kindness without expecting anything in return. And I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I abandoned you in that moment. I heard a lot about you, and I can say for sure. You aren't the terrible person everyone talks about." Your hand reached to cup his on the table. Holding it firmly, silently offering him a shoulder to rest.
That surely wasn't what he expected, because all the hardness in his eyes simply disappeared in surprise and disbelief. His glare shifted from your hand to your face, trying to find anything that could prove that you weren't being honest. But he didn't know what to do after he found none. "So, I should still call you Homelander?" That must have brought him back from the dozens of questions that were surely forming in his head. "Huh…? Oh, I… Don't know. Homelander was everything I have been for the last years. But now that I lost that… John, I guess you can call me John. But only until I recover my past life. And don't you dare to leak that to anyone.
You smiled at the little trust he had put in you. Seeing that he trusted you, even if a little, made you feel special. When you gently squeezed his hand in an assuring manner, he was caught by surprise; maybe he had forgotten that his hand was still under yours. "Okay, John. That will be our little secret. Feel free to call this place home. I will do my best to support you from now on. And if you need anything, you can always ask me."
You saw how his cheeks burned at your words; he was quick to tug his hand back to his lap. His eyes were too embarrassed to properly face you again. God, that was so adorable. You couldn't help but want to tease him more. So you reached and gently moved a wet strand of his hair back to its place, laughing at his shocked expression. He was at a loss for words, caught off guard by your boldness. "The cat got your tongue, pretty boy?" That sealed the last nail on the coffin.
His cheeks burst into a deeper shade of red, and he was quick to shove you away. Avoiding even looking at you at any cost. "Don't you dare to do that again! Neither call me that. I'm warning you!" You smirked and laughed it off. "Teasing you is so easy! Come on, I'm just joking a little."
He glared at you, trying to mask his embarrassment with anger. But that didn't work with you; it was easy to see past any facade he used. You saw how truly dejected he felt. And it hurt your heart to see how he wasn't used to being provoked or having someone that truly worried about his well-being. It was risky, but you were ready to take your shot. "Do you need a hug?" You opened your arms and waited; if he said no, it would create a tense atmosphere between you two. So you truly prayed for the best.
He visioned himself being held in your arms, his hands clenched into fists against his lap. The last string of pride on his body snapped when he saw the true care behind your expression. God, he craved that. He yearned so long to see someone look at him like that, without any hidden reason. Right when you were ready to accept the defeat and lower your arms, he jumped against your chest. His arms were quick to wrap around your back, holding onto you for his dear life. Your eyes were surprised as you saw him nest his head and bury his face on your chest.
A giant smile crept on your face as you returned the hug tightly. You two held each other firmly. None of the two was willing to let go first. He needed comfort, and you were happy to provide that.
You felt his body starting to feel heavy against yours; you took a peek, and surely his eyes were dropping, so you gently tried to pry from the hug and whispered, "Come on, I will show the bedroom to you. It's time to sleep." You felt his head shake against your chest; his hair was messy, so you reached to gently stroke his hair back into place. A small moan escaped his lips before his eyes snapped open and he jumped away from you. He seemed shocked and humiliated for producing such a noise after just a gentle touch on his hair. He quickly nodded and entered the bedroom that you assigned him to.
You swore that you heard a whispered "good night and thanks" before he shuttled himself in the room. A small laugh escaped your lips as you entered your own bedroom after taking a small shower in the bathroom. Changing into your pajamas, you dropped your tired body on the bed. Satisfaction was all over your face. You reached for your bag and took your phone out of it. As the screen lit itself, a picture of Homelander flying over a building appeared as the lock screen. You unlocked it with your password; it was the official birthday that Vought provided for Homelander.
The picture on the home screen was a picture that you managed to take while he was changing into his uniform. Don't even ask how you got that; it was so hard to even get close to that man.
Your finger slipped to open the gallery; dozens and dozens of Homelander's pictures filled the screen, the light reflecting against your face in the dark room, a big grin slowly opening on your once gentle features. God, that man was so… You didn't stop scrolling until you had visited every pic you had. How could that man be so perfect? You didn't know.
Your hand slides to the other side of the bed, your fingers closing around a piece of cloth that you previously picked from the bathroom. That's right, it was the battered hoodie. Your fingers couldn't stop but shake in excitement as you held the cloth in front of your face and buried your nose against the fabric. His scent… Finally you had your hands on that. But still, it wasn't the best part. Because now you had set your grip on the real one. You made him believe you, and you even convinced him to live together. It was like a dream coming true. You couldn't believe that the universe had handed you that chance. It was so damn hard to hide your enthusiasm and desire when you first recognized him.
Sometimes your obsession leaked through your smiles and gentle acts. But luck was by your side, and he thankfully didn't notice anything. How could he? He was so flustered and prideful all the time. You would die for that man; you would even kill just to hold him again.
One thing was sure. He was now yours. He realizing it or not.