Chapter Text
Finding William here really wasn’t what he expected. He thought William was smarter than this—exposing himself like that was simply stupid, though after all… he was dealing with William, and the man with his stupid cockney accent was unpredictable, and Homelander found that interesting.
He clears his throat after ordering to Ryan to go home, turning his gaze back to William, taking only a few steps forward to give the other man space.
“Are you still trying to take my son from me, William?” he says with a mocking tone.
“There’s no need to explain it to you, right? Ryan chose me, not you.” Homelander pauses there to watch his expression, and his own lips curl into a smile when William clenches his fist; he lets out a low chuckle at that as he takes another step closer.
“And, being honest, I find it adorable that you still want to have Ryan despite what happened with Becca,” he says, raising his hands in a gesture of false peace. “I mean it.”
William narrows his eyes as if expecting Homelander to lunge at him, and even so, he walks toward the superhero.
“You done listenin’ to yourself like it gets you off?” William replies with a humorless laugh.
“Oh, William, always with that spark. You know? I thought you’d lost it after I pushed your buttons so hard last time.” The mockery in Homelander’s voice carries a teasing edge, another laugh rumbling in his throat.
“Yeah… I’ve already got a pretty bloody clear picture of what kind of pervert you are. Anythin’ else?” William’s muscles tense as he says it, and Homelander can see the memory flash quickly through the other man’s eyes.
Homelander pauses briefly, raising an eyebrow. “Pervert?” He crosses his arms, pretending to think. “You didn’t seem very opposed.” he purrs.
“Yeah… I’d been drinkin’, love.” William points out with a smile. This time he keeps his distance; he doesn’t step closer like he usually does. Their breaths don’t clash because he knows that if he presses his chest against Homelander’s, the blond would truly enjoy that.
“What I do remember is you didn’t put up much of a fight when I slammed your face into the counter.”
Homelander’s eye twitches slightly when William doesn’t stay silent as expected. “I let you do it,” he mutters through clenched teeth—William already knows that. “Don’t confuse it with anything else.”
William’s eyes gleam with amusement at Homelander’s reaction, pleased to challenge him once again.
“Don’t think I’m gettin’ anythin’ mixed up.” William says, stepping a few inches back, wearing his usual mocking, sinister smile.
And Homelander wants to pin him against the wall just like the other day and crush his lips against the man’s to shut him up.
“Whatever,” Homelander mutters, bored.
“I won’t have this conversation now.” He turns, giving William his back. “Just stay away from my son.”
___________
When night falls, Homelander is once again in the apartment of the person who hates him most, and as if it were routine, William is sitting there, looking at the window Homelander always comes through. He’s waiting for him—maybe he’s always waiting, or… maybe Homelander just wants that to be the case.
William Butcher doesn’t greet him, he just drinks a strong coffee with his gaze fixed on him, and there’s something in those eyes he doesn’t like—something that makes him feel exposed.
“I wanted to talk to you seriously today,” Homelander’s voice comes out slightly irritated as, this time, he doesn’t sit down; he goes straight to stand in front of him.
“But you don’t like making anything easy, do you?” He barely shakes his head as he takes off his gloves and sets them on the table like always. William shrugs, making a satisfied gesture after a sip of his coffee.
“Guilty.” He smiles, teeth on display, and Homelander rolls his eyes, jaw tense, as he turns his back on him and hears the other man stand up behind him. The dark-haired man simply walks around him to the couch in front of the TV, ignoring him again, as if he never got tired of doing that—and Homelander, being honest with himself, doesn’t get tired of chasing him either.
“William.” His voice comes out more threatening, more demanding, and the focus of his attention doesn’t even flinch, still sitting there on the couch.
“If it’s attention you’re after, mate, you’re in the wrong place.” William tells him, exasperated and sardonic. Homelander’s nose wrinkles briefly before he sits down on the couch beside him, his eyes fixed on William’s face lit by the TV.
“You want Ryan,” he whispers, ignoring the previous comment.
“I can give him to you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, the superhero’s blue gaze catches how the other man’s hand tightens against the armrest. “That’s right…” Homelander murmurs, leaning a little closer to William.
“We’re talking about what you want most, and you’re ignoring it,” he says through clenched teeth, not snapping—yet.
There’s a brief silence between them, and before Homelander can place his hand on William’s jaw to make him look at him, William sighs and does it on his own.
“Go on, then. I’m listening.”
The muscles in Homelander’s jaw relax, and he blinks slowly before resting his hand against the back of the couch. “I like you, William,” he begins, and William just frowns, leaning back.
William runs a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell…” he exhales with a grunt. “I don’t give a damn.”
“I’m being incredibly patient with you…” Homelander says, frustrated, placing his hand on William’s shoulder and pressing—not hard enough to leave a bruise, but enough to make it clear that right now he’s not negotiating for his attention. “So don’t interrupt me.”
William shakes his head, jaw tightening. “Does Ryan have to listen to you like this too… or am I the only one with that privilege?”
Homelander pulls his hand away before he ends up breaking William’s shoulder. “No, but you both have the privilege of my patience,” Homelander mocks, exasperated.
The dark-haired man makes a face of disgust without even looking at the caped sociopath sitting on his couch, invading his fucking property.
“Your patience means jack shit to me,” he mutters, voice rough, and Homelander thinks the same thing he thought earlier—how easy it would be to shut the pathetic man beside him up by forcing his tongue down his throat.
Homelander exhales through his nose, staring at William without blinking. “Ryan misses you,” he decides to continue, despite how difficult William makes it to talk calmly.
“At first I was angry, why would Ryan want a man like you as a his father, after what you said to him?” He leans forward unconsciously, his arm resting on the back of the couch, completely invading the human’s personal space.
“But I think it would be good for Ryan to have you,” he lies. He doesn’t care that much. He just wants William closer. “You’re a danger, but the kid misses you, and he’d hate me—his father—for not letting him see you.”
Or maybe he just wants something as close to a family as he can get. After all, it’s hard being a single father.
And Homelander swears he can see the gears turning in the Brit’s head, thinking of an escape plan for himself and for Ryan—and he finds himself smiling.
“These will be supervised visits, of course.” He leans closer to William as he says it in a low tone. “I wouldn’t like it if you tried to turn my son against me or… tried to take him from me.”
William glances at him out of the corner of his eye, and that look alone shows just how fed up he is with him. Homelander finds himself irritated by that reaction—he doesn’t want William to want him gone. But it doesn’t matter, he’ll fix that. Homelander can wait for William to relax at his side.
“So, what do you say?”
There’s a long silence that Homelander allows himself to endure, waiting for the man’s answer. His hand tightens slightly against the back of the couch as he does, and for a moment he thinks this trick might not work.
“Well…” William leans forward, his voice coming out rough, “You’ve got to keep your enemies close, don’t you think?”