Chapter Text
Homelander sighs at the finished memory.
If it wasn’t for the nervousness in his stomach he’d have a raging boner by now.
He’s made up his mind. He’ll ask for what he wants and take it.
Impolitely he walks straight into the soldier's room. The smell of cigar smoke made his sensitive nose twitch, but he tries to keep the mood positive.
“Helloo,” He hums trying to keep himself from practically skipping over to the couch.
“Whadda you want?” The other man groans. Seems like he’s in a better mood than usual, perfect.
He places himself just at the end of the couch, holding his head high. He thinks–He knows he looks more confident this way. Dignified. Manly.
“Well, I haven’t seen you in a while. Busy with the public and all…just wanted to make sure you hadn't gone back to frozen land.”
He gives his best cutting edge smile. He had practiced in the mirror for the perfect smile since he was twelve, it’s a bit hard to fuck up.
After he found out Soldierboy was his father, he had taken an old photo and tried to replicate his smile a bit into his. It didn’t work, but still.
“Yeah? Well here I am.”
“Here you are.” He smiles charmingly again.
The soldier only stares at him, before turning to a newspaper he had been reading. Homelander had specifically asked for fresh papers to be brought to his father everyday.
“Quit it with the fucking grin. You're creeping me out.”
Homelanders face drops in an instant, looking almost hurt.
“Sorry.” He mumbles.
“Yeah.”
They–well, Homelander stands. The silence is long, besides the annoying laugh track on the television. He wants so badly to tell his father to come to bed with him. Cuddle him. Make him feel good after all the work he's done. Yet he can’t.
Every time he opens his mouth to speak nothing comes out.
What was it? Was he ashamed? Scared?
He’s never fucking scared. So why can’t he just open his mouth?
“Do you want something? Or are you just going to stand there like a fucking dork?”
He opens his mouth, he's going to ask. Really, he is.
“I just…thought you might want to know what I’ve been up to. You don’t like flying so I can never offer to take you anywhere…” He halfway blames his father at the end of his sentence, a bit annoyed.
They could do so much together if he wasn’t such a…If he would just get over the whole flight thing.
It was one of Homelanders best traits!
“Why the fuck would I wanna do that? I’ve got enough on my plate running around like your little errand boy.”
“I can give you less work.” He quickly offers, “I just thought you might like being in public more often. After being gone for so long. You know.”
Soldierboy rolls his eyes and crumbles up his paper, throwing it on the floor somewhere.
“If I let you tell me, will you leave me alone after?”
The acceptance makes Homelanders chest leap, but a dissatisfied pang doesn’t fail to hide itself at the fact that he’ll have to leave his father alone after.
But then again, he’s Homelander. He can come and go as he pleases. He ignores the voice calling him a pussy for taking so long to come into the room in the first place.
He gives another charming smile and nods, trying to sound nonchalant about the offer. “Yes, yeah. If you have the time?”
The soldier shrugs once, leaning his arms against the back of the couch. Homelander takes a seat, smartly just far enough away to not make the other upset.
“Well…I started out in New York on Monday…Meet and greets with the seven.”
“New York Monday, meet and greet with seven.” Soldier boy repeats. The suddenness of it catches Homelander off guard slightly, but he keeps going.
“Uh-Then an hour later I’m flying to China for some stupid promotional movie. Take more photos with fucking every extra on set…”
“Fuck any oriental chicks over there?”
“What? No, I don’t…No.”
“Too bad, I fucked about twenty the last time I was there. The fun part about it is if you think one's hot, they’re all hot. You know? Cause they all look the same.” The soldier looks off grinning while saying this, like reminiscing on a good memory.
Homelanders sure it is one. For him. It only makes the blonde more jealous than anything. He hates hearing all the woman his father has so called, ‘fucked’. He can do that but he can’t give him a hug?
He doesn’t say this of course. Only slightly quivering his eyebrows and sucking in his lips the way he usually does.
“Quit pouting.” His father says, pulling his cheek. “You’ll get some one of these days.”
He can’t help but lean into the touch. It’s such a difference from the last time they had, the soldier being almost ice cold. For god's sake he can smell the difference so strongly now, especially being right next to him. He bites his tongue to keep whatever wants to come up down in his chest.
He gets a bit snippy, letting his thoughts dictate his emotions, “I don’t want ‘some’, I want you to listen to me. I haven’t even gotten close to finishing.”
“I’d listen if you weren't boring me out of my goddamn mind.”
“You wouldn’t be bored if you would just let me fucking finish.” He snaps, of course not making any eye contact. Such a bitch, he thinks about himself. Soldierboy rests his arm back on the sofa and looks at him quite crossly, but he shuts up.
He goes about the rest of his busy week, laughing at the stupidness of regular insignificant people. At whatever stupid shit the deep did to suck up to him. How annoying Firecracker was. Honestly, his father listens for quite a while before interrupting again.
“Sounds like you need to stop letting your team bitch you around.”
Homelander gathers the strength to look at him this time, annoyed. “I don’t let them bitch me around. They do what I say. They respect me.”
He scoffs. “If that's what you think.”
“Yeah? Well what do you think?”
“I think you're a sniveling coward who's too pussy to put his team in their rightful place. None of that shit would happen if you’d give them a smack or two.”
Homelander twitches his face, trying not to let it droop. He is Homelander. Even if this is his father, he should be able to show that. He stands up, hands behind his back and confidently retorts, “Is that why your team sold you out to the Russians?”
It takes half a second for Soldierboy to be on his feet, inches away from Homelander, voice quick and authoritative.
“Don’t you go mentioning shit that you think I won’t kick your ass for. I don’t need a sopping wet pussy like you telling me anything about my life.”
He immediately cowards down, scared to lose his fathers interest for the night. “I didn’t mean it like that…”
“Yeah? Well then how did you mean it? If you're going to say something smart, at least have the balls to back it up.” He runs a hand through his hair and turns around, walking to his room's bar. “Get the fuck out of my room.”
“No.” Homelander squeaks. He coughs quickly into his fist trying to hide his heated cheeks.
“No.” He says more firmly.
“No?” Soldierboy mocks, pouring a tall glass of whisky. “Why the fuck not?”
“Because! I just. I wanted to ask you…” He buzzes around the words, losing his voice at the question. The hands behind his back grip his cape and his eyes focused on his blue boots. Soldierboy only tilts his head in disinterest.
“If you could hold me.” He gasped out at once. The soldier's face immediately tightens up.
“Oh fuck. Is this that incest shit I asked you about? I fucking knew it!”
“It’s not!” Homelander snaps, fixing his posture into something strong. “I just want a hug, alright? Jesus, it’s not like I’m asking for…” He loses the word, not ready to say it yet.
“Sex?” Soldierboy spits, “Like hell it isn’t.”
Weakly, all Homelander can say is, “It’s not.”
He keeps his gaze at Soldierboy, who silently watches back. He pounds at least two more glasses before slamming the empty cup down.
“Your a fucking fag you know that?”
Homelander doesn’t respond. He keeps his father's gaze, but his face droops at every word that comes out of his mouth.
“I can’t believe it. Almost fucking forty fucking years old and you want a hug from your daddy. My son is a fucking pathetic ass crybaby.” He laughs to himself.
Homelanders cheeks turn red once more and his eyes get glossy. He’s got such a pout that Soldierboy doesn’t know if he wants to pinch his cheeks or slap the fuck out of him.
“Why do you even want this shit anyways? Don’t you got Firecracker ready to jump on your dick any second?”
“I don’t like Firecracker. I don’t want to be around her. Or anybody.” He softly says, wet lashes fluttering under the soft headlights.
“Just your daddy, huh?” He leans back on the counter and takes another once over at the pussy. Pathetic. A hug from daddy, how much gayer can he get?
“I suppose next you’ll want a kiss, and me to tuck you in at night? Or wait, you wanna sleep in the same goddamn bed as me and have me rub your back as you fall asleep?”
Homelander doesn’t respond, so he knows he's right. Fuck. Fucking baby. His baby, that he didn’t raise. Now he’s all fucked up. Fucking Vought scientist.
“Go sit on the fucking couch then.” Soldierboy waves him off as he pours himself another glass.
“And take that fucking suit off!” If he’s cuddling the soy boy he doesn’t want that hunk of junk scraping all on his skin.
Soldierboys’ pajamas consisted of a tank top and whatever loose cotton boxers he could find. Black noir ones peaked his interest, but he had never gotten around to asking about the sorry fucker.
When he turns to the pussy, he can see he's got on tight boxer briefs and a white T-shirt on. With his own face on it. Egh.
That superspeed shit was serious. Maybe he can superspeed his way through this.
He sits down next to him, right next to him. Little shit doesn’t even know what to do. He just looks at him stupidly and fiddles with his hands. Soldierboy holds his arms open expectantly.
Homelander doesn’t hesitate to quickly reciprocate the hug, wrapping his arms around the soldier's neck and quickly nuzzling into his neck. It's strange, Soldierboy thinks. It’s the closest he’s been to the guy without either of them having a costume on.
It’s gay, he also thinks.
The baby holds onto him so desperately he can’t help but sigh. The man is beyond fucked. Why not indulge? It’s not that he liked men. Relationship wise. He’s done a couple dudes black out drunk, but it was never mentioned while sober. He’d kill anybody that would. But that was with men, like himself, drunk and high off of anything and everything.
This is just…weakness. Softness.
Soldierboy will have to beat the shit out of him later for repayment.
He wraps his thick arms around the blonde's waist and rubs his back firmly, patting every so often. He shakes subtly in his arms, and he can feel his shoulder becoming wet.
“You better not be fucking crying.” He says sternly.
“M’ not.” Homelander muffles, face shoved into daddy's shoulder. He loves it. It’s so much different than last time. Soldierboy truly smells like himself now, rough and rugged with tangy soap. Even better, he's so warm Homelander can’t help but press their bodies closer.
This isn't like Stillwell. The fronted touch, the milk, the baseless words. He’s warm, told the truth, and spoiled by his true family.
“Hm.” The soldier grunts. The hand he used rubbing his back goes up to blonde hair, playing with a few strands in the back. Then down to his lower back, patting firmly.
This earns a lowly sound from the sniveling freak. He’s not shocked the guy is half hard from this. He expected it to happen. Doesn’t mean he’ll do anything to help him. He’ll need a couple more lessons before Soldierboy will even mention his dick.
Instead, he decides to tease him, rubbing leisurely up and down his spine. Blowing hot air into his ear. Humming lightly.
More sounds. Light, airy, and so so whiny. Jeez this boy can whine. He can’t say it doesn’t entice him. As long as he doesn’t do this shit in public. He pinches a cheek that wasn’t buried in his neck, pulling the cry baby's face out of his neck. He grips him by his chin tightly.
“Be a good boy and don’t bother me with this shit again, hm?” He says softly.
Homelander looks at him dreamily, face flushed and covered in tears and mucus. He nods the best he can and Soldierboy squeezes his face tighter. He thinks for a moment, but lets it go.
He gives his boy a forehead kiss and puts his head back in the crook of his neck, the blondes arms squeezing tighter around him.
Homelander fidgets around, legs squirming about, whining a bit more. He just lets him, patting his lower back once more as he finally settles down after a particularly long whine.
He can feel something on his leg, but doesn’t bother to move, steadying his focus on his movie hand and flashing tv.
About an hour goes by and by then Soldierboy is fed up.
“Alright. Get off.”
“Mhm?”
Fucker was sleeping.
“Get off.”
“But…”
“But nothing. I did what you wanted, didn’t I? Get the fuck off.”
Slowly, Homelander removes himself from his father. His face is full of disappointment. Almost makes a man feel bad. Too bad. He pulls his face with a hand. Damn.
Fuck.
Whatever.
“Next time you have another shit week come back. Tell me what you want like a man and I just might give it to you.”