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He hasn’t actually celebrated Valentine’s Day since he was with Maeve, and honestly, most of those were spent at the Tower, watching a movie and ordering take-out. He’s not sure that’s Noir’s type of thing. He’s also not sure ordering a flowers-and-candy delivery is something you do for a man, so while he did it for Maeve a few times, he’s not sure it’d be right with Noir.
He does want it to be special though. It’s their first Valentine’s together as a couple, and he’d hate for it to just feel like a normal day – or worse, for him to fuck it up completely.
Right now, it’s seven in the morning, and Noir is in the shower while the Homelander’s at the kitchen table with Ryan, watching the boy sleepily poke around in his scrambled eggs.
“Hey, Ryan,” he begins, knowing Noir’s probably going to be out of the shower any minute, and hoping the running water is enough to drown out what he has to say. “Your mom, did she ever talk to you about Valentine’s Day?”
Ryan looks up at him and shrugs.
“Uh. I guess,” he says, mouth full of eggs, and the Homelander doesn’t even feel like telling him not to talk with his mouth full. This is important.
“Yes?” He leans forward, hoping to encourage the kid by showing interest.
“It’s like a day where your partner is supposed to do romantic stuff, I guess,” Ryan says uncertainly and swallows his mouthful of eggs. “I don’t know, like buy flowers and go on a date and maybe eat some chocolate cake? Mom would make chocolate cake for the two of us at least. Not that we went on a date though,” he adds quickly, as if the idea would even cross his father’s mind.
“Hm,” the Homelander simply states, and takes a sip of his coffee. It’s caramel flavored, because as much as no one would guess it, America’s greatest hero hates any kind of coffee that isn’t flavored. Normally, he’d have gone for hazelnut flavor, but since he and Noir decided to just have the latter move in with him, he’s had to stick to caramel or vanilla flavors.
“How come you’re asking?”
“Well, Ryan,” the Homelander begins, and he’s definitely not blushing a little, not at all. “I’m trying to decide on what to do for Noir today.”
“Oh!” A big grin spreads on the boy’s face, and the Homelander can see a piece of egg stuck between his front teeth. “Maybe you can take him out for dinner?”
“I don’t know if he seems like the fancy dining type of guy though.”
“Dad.” Ryan frowns, a serious look on his face, and he puts down the fork he’s been holding. “Where did I say anything about fancy dining?”
“I guess you didn’t,” the Homelander admits, and takes another sip of the hot coffee.
“Take him to Buster Beaver’s!” Ryan announces, and the grin is back on his face.
“That’s not very romantic, is it?” The Homelander insists, and right as he finishes his sentence, he hears the shower turn off in the bathroom.
Ryan leans across the table and gestures for the Homelander to do the same, so he does, barely avoiding tipping the coffee cup over.
“I’ve seen him watch the cartoons. He’s gonna love it,” Ryan whispers seriously. “Do it, dad. Trust me.”
The Homelander figures that he might as well. It’s not like he has any better ideas, and he has seen Noir draw Buster and his gang.
The rest of the day passes without much excitement. There’s more fan mail than usual, but there always is on Valentine’s Day, and he skims through a few of them after having dropped Ryan off at school. During the morning meeting, A-Train makes a crass joke about the Deep and salmons, and during lunch, he’s pretty sure he sees Deep put something in A-Train’s soda, but he decides not to say anything.
“So Noir,” he starts, putting the meatball sub down on the table to take a drink. It’s not often they all eat together as a team, but they’ve got a Valentine’s themed interview at the Tower soon anyway, so for once they’ve actually ended up lunching together.
The lunch in question is Subway, and the grin on Deep’s face when A-Train takes a sip of his coke is unmistakable. Probably laxatives, Homelander figures, but he still doesn’t say anything.
Noir’s watching him, and he realizes he just started a conversation. He smiles, trying to pretend he didn’t get distracted by whatever’s going on with A-Train’s drink.
“You got anything planned for later?”
Noir shakes his head and signs back.
“Do you?”
The Homelander grins, and instead of replying out loud so everyone can understand, he signs back as well.
“I do actually.”
“Hey,” Maeve butts in from between bites of her teriyaki chicken with extra extra cheese sub. “Let the rest of the team in on your conversation.”
“I actually don’t feel so good,” A-Train says from his place on the table, and the Deep is incredibly bad at hiding his laughter.
Ryan throws himself into his arms the second he lands outside the school. It’s a supes only school, so the classes are pretty small, which actually has turned out to be perfect for Ryan.
“Hey squirt,” he chuckles, lifting the small boy up. “Had a fun day at school?”
Ryan nods excitedly.
“I got an A on my math test! And my English teacher gave us all candy hearts!”
“Sounds like a great day,” the Homelander agrees as he takes off up into the air. He could let Ryan take the school bus. Or fly himself. But really, he prefers it this way. It feels safer, and the boy is only ten.
“Did you ask Noir to go to Buster Beaver's with you?” the boy asks as they’re flying above New York City, the wind ruffling Ryan’s hair and making him look even more adorable than he usually does.
“I told him I had something planned for tonight.”
“Dad.” There’s that serious look again. “You’ve gotta wear something other than your usual outfit.”
“Nope.”
“Yuh uh.”
“Nope,” the Homelander insists, again.
“Yuh uh, because I’ve already texted Noir and told him to wear something romantic tonight, and he’s agreed.”
“Something romantic?” He’s trying to hold back a fit of laughter, partially at the thought of Ryan giving Noir instructions on what to wear, partially because he’s somehow getting an image of Noir in a ball dress in his head.
“Yeah, like a suit or something. He said we’ll see.”
“I’m sure he’ll be beautiful,” Homelander says, the image of Noir in a dress not leaving his mind.
At seven-thirty, they drop Ryan off with Deep – Noir insists he’s good with kids, and the Homelander figures he’s probably at least better than A-Train or Maeve – and they take off. No flying this time, because the Homelander figures that if they’re gonna go out all secret identity, they might as well put in a bit of an effort in hiding who they are. Plus, it’d be nice to have a night out without getting jumped by fans for once.
It turns out Noir’s “romantic outfit” isn’t so much a ball dress as it is a pair of jeans and a hoodie with a hood pulled up, and a pair of sunglasses. In all honesty, Homelander thinks he looks less romantic and more suspicious, but he himself isn’t exactly dressed all romantically either. Jeans, and one of the less than a handful of t-shirts that he owns. A jacket that he’s honestly not sure how it ended up in his closet, but he figures he probably got it as a gift at some point. He’s only really started dressing in “normal” clothes recently, and only because Ryan’s insisted on being able to go out with him without them getting recognized all the time.
Of course, it doesn’t always work, but it’s at least less obvious than walking around in an American flag cape.
He manages to catch a cab, and they jump in. The Homelander hands the driver a note, not wanting to spoil the surprise for Noir, and he can see his partner raise an eyebrow at him from beneath his dark sunglasses.
“Ssh,” the Homelander whispers, holding a finger up in front of his lips. “It’s a surprise.”
And it is. He can tell by Noir’s face when the cab rolls into the parking lot. He hands the driver his money and does his best to ignore the strange look he gives them when they step out of the car. What, two grown men can’t go to a food chain just because it happens to be aimed at kids? He waits until the car’s on its way out of the parking lot, then he gives the driver the finger.
“What are we doing here?” Noir signs at him the moment he turns around, his movements faster than usual, and for a moment he worries that he’s upset him.
“It was Ryan’s idea. He said he’s caught you watching the cartoons and figured you’d like it.” The Homelander can feel the sheepish look that’s forming on his face, and he hates it.
Noir’s mouth forms an O, and the Homelander can’t tell if that’s a good or a bad thing. Does he feel insulted that he brought him here? Maybe he doesn’t appreciate being brought to a place for children, and Homelander finds himself wishing that he hadn’t asked a ten year old for date ideas.
“Look, if you wanna go somewhere else, that’s cool. I get it,” he starts, but Noir holds up a hand to interrupt him.
“It’s fine,” he signs. “I was just surprised.” The Homelander can almost swear it looks like he’s about to say something more, but he drops it, so he does too.
“Shall we?” he asks instead, gesturing towards the restaurant, and they both walk over to it together. At barely an hour before closing, there’s not a lot of patreons in the restaurant, and honestly, it suits the Homelander fine. He’s quite sure Noir feels the same.
They get their table, and the Homelander looks at the menu. He’s got to take Ryan here sometime, because he’s pretty sure the food listed is any ten year old’s dream. Tons of junk food.
“What do you wanna get?” he asks Noir, and his partner signs back.
“Pepperoni pizza.”
“Hm,” the Homelander nods, continuing to skim through the menu. “I think I’ll go with… uh. There’s a fries pizza? I’m going with that.”
They place their orders to a young, blonde server with the fakest smile the Homelander has ever seen.
“Any sides?” she asks, grinning so wide that he’s worried her cheeks are going to burst.
“No thank you, we’re fine,” he replies, giving her his classic media smile.
“You sure you don’t wanna try Farrah Fox’s Fantastic Fries?”
“I’m positive,” Homelander insists, feeling like he’s gotten caught in a battle of fake smiles.
“There’s bacon and cheese on them!” she tries, and her smile somehow manages to grow wider.
“There’s already fries on my pizza,” he reminds her, and just like that, she gives up on her and turns to Noir.
“What about you, sir? Can I tempt you with anything? The fries are delicious.”
Noir simply shakes his head.
“What about Buster Beaver’s Bacon Balls?”
The Homelander can’t help it. He bursts out laughing, and the server gives him an indignant scowl.
“I’ll have you know they’re quite delicious! They’re--”
“Miss,” he interrupts. “Please. We’re happy with just the pizzas for now. If we want something else, we’ll let you know.”
She turns around and walks off to bother the people at the table across the restaurant, and Black Noir draws a sigh of relief.
“Lovely staff,” Homelander notes.
“They used to be less…” Noir waves his hands, struggling to find the right word.
“Pestering? Annoying? Bitchy?” the Homelander suggests, and Noir shrugs. “Do you come here a lot?”
“I used to. Not this particular restaurant though. There was another one I used to go to as a child, but it’s closed now.”
“Huh.” He doesn’t quite know what else to say, but he doesn’t have the time to think of something before Noir continues signing.
“I do appreciate you taking me here. It’s sweet.”
“Heh,” is all the Homelander manages to get out, and he suddenly gets very interested in the red and white table cloth. But he’s definitely not blushing. Nope. The warmth on his cheeks is definitely because of something else. “Ryan’s a smart kid,” he finally continues, just as one of his fingers poke a little hole in the cloth, and he quickly scrunches it up a little to hide it.
He can see Noir raise an eyebrow beneath the big dark glasses that’s covering his face, but before he has the time to comment, a server shows up carrying their pizzas. Luckily it’s not the fake cheery blonde from earlier, and the Homelander’s relieved to not be pestered about buying sides again.
They eat their pizzas, and Homelander ends up getting a ketchup bottle to squirt all over his to Noir’s horror.
“Are you okay?” his partner signs, a look of fake concern on his face. “Do you need me to call for an ambulance?”
“Ketchup goes with fries,” Homelander simply replies as he flicks one at Noir with a grin. “Try it.”
The fry lands right on his glasses and for a moment, they both stay still as they wait to find out whether it’ll stick there or fall. It falls, leaving a goopy ketchup stain behind.
“Sorry,” he begins, but he doesn’t have the time to continue before Noir’s picked up a pepperoni from his pizza and flung it at him. He tries to lean out of the way, but it hits him in the shoulder.
“Ow!”
“There is no way that hurt,” Noir signs at him, but the Homelander’s too busy throwing yet another fry at him to bother replying. This time, Noir ducks out of the way and it lands on the floor behind him instead.
“This isn’t a playground,” an annoyed voice pipes up from somewhere behind the Homelander, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know that it’s the blonde server from earlier speaking. “Or, well, it kind of is, but it’s not a place for a food fight!”, she corrects herself. “Throw one more item of food and you’ll get kicked out!”
The Homelander doesn’t even hesitate as he grabs yet another fry and turns around to face her.
“Was that really necessary?” Black Noir asks as they’re standing outside the restaurant, waiting for an Uber. “What if someone had recognized us?”
“But they didn’t!” the Homelander grins, and he looks almost giddy with delight. He’s bouncing on the heels of his feet as he looks down the street to see if their Uber is close yet.
Noir knocks on his shoulder to regain his attention, and signs “You made her cry.”
“You make it sound worse than it is! She got ketchup in her hair!”
Noir shrugs.
“This is why I never take you anywhere,” he signs.