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One of the nice things about marrying the Homelander has been getting out of Vought Tower every now and then. The little place in the woods upstate isn’t really much in the way of a vacation, but it allows the three of you some breathing room without having to worry about secret identities or fake names or anything else.
Having a driver is something that never gets less awkward, you’ve learned. But Homelander doesn’t know how to drive (and isn’t interested in learning), and with you being one eye short, a driver is the only real option. (“Until Ryan learns to fly,” the Homelander says every time it comes up, giving her most charming wink. You always return the sentiment with a terrified smile, resigned to your fate.)
The car pulls into the driveway of the cabin, and you get out, waving at the driver to stay in the car while you and Homelander get the family’s things.
— I’ll let him drive me, but I draw the line at carrying my stuff, you say to no one in particular.
— Yeah, but isn’t that his job? Farrah asks.
— Maybe, but I still don’t like it. I’d be driving us if I could.
Farrah rolls her eyes—this is a rant you’ve been on before, and every one of your friends knows it by heart.
“You coming dad?” Ryan says. Your head snaps up, and you realize you’ve just been standing in the driveway. You shake your head, clearing it, and make the quick dash indoors.
You nod and follow your son inside.
You’re in the kitchen cooking dinner when Homelander and Ryan pass back through. There’s cornbread in the oven and you are trying desperately not to shove the pork chops you’re frying into your mouth before they’re done.
“Behind you,” Homelander announces before putting her hand on your back. She leans up and kisses you on the cheek. Ryan, not too far behind her, pulls a face.
“Ewwww, stop that!” Ryan says in a tone of mock disgust. You stick your tongue out at him, and he giggles and runs out the front door. You hear the screen door slam.
You roll your eyes.
“He’s going to tear that off one of these days,” you say.
“I’ll talk to him,” Homelander replies. “We’re going to go outside for a few minutes before dinner. Will you be okay?”
You turn back to the stove and give her a wave. I’ll be fine, it says. You hear the door close shut—softer this time—and flip one of the pork chops.
— Wwww-wow Earving! Those s-smell g-g-great! says Buster.
Before you can reply, you hear heavy footsteps overhead.
What the—
You dash outside, not bothering to turn off the stove, involuntarily cringing as the screen door slams repeatedly behind you, bouncing from the force you used to shove it open. You run out into the yard, then whirl around to see Homelander and Ryan standing on the roof, facing away from you, Ryan clinging to his mother’s leg. One of her hands is behind his back, and in one horrible instant you know she’s going to push him off the roof.
You have a moment to curse your muteness, unable to shout at them. Instead you cup your hands and bring them together as hard as you can. They both jump in unison, startled by your appearance.
“Noir!” she says cheerily, and waves. “We were just about to have our first flying lesson!”
You gesture accusingly at her, then angrily at the ground. It isn’t sign, but the message is clear nonetheless: get down here now. Her face darkens a bit, but she grabs Ryan, who clings to her for dear life, and floats them both back down. You tell Ryan to go back inside, and he books it for the door.
“What?” she says tersely.
“Were you just going to push him off the roof?” you ask, your motions jerky, your hands shaking from anger and fear.
“Well… yes?” She looks taken aback, and her expression goes from one of fierceness to one of genuine confusion.
“Why?” you ask, spelling the word out before gesturing for emphasis.
“That’s… how you teach flying?” The tone in Homelander’s voice isn’t just one of confusion now, it’s one of genuine concern. She slows her speech down a bit like she does on your Bad days, and your mouth twitches as you force back an irate expression. She likely doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. You cross your arms anyway. “You put him on the roof, and then you push him off, and the body just knows what to do. I was trying to get him to jump, but he was scared. I was just going to give him a little nudge.”
And then it hits you like a brick to the head. Your mouth drops open a bit and your arms fall to your sides.
She genuinely thinks this is how you do it.
You blink a few times, as though clearing your vision will make this better. You press your palms together in front of your mouth like child in church, and take a deep breath.
“Homelander,” you say. “Was that how you were taught to fly?”
“….yes?” Again, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Okay.” You take another deep breath. “I’m not angry. I was a little, but mostly I was terrified. There is a way to teach children to use their powers, but it does not involve pushing them off the roof.”
“Why? He’d be fine if he fell, we both know how durable he is.” A defensive tone creeping into her voice. It’s her turn to cross her arms.
“Because he was scared shitless up there.”
“Well ye—”
You put a hand on her shoulder, gently cutting her off.
“Even if he flew, he was still scared. He would have associated his powers with this moment in time, and the fear he felt. The fear that you didn’t protect him from.” You don’t look at her for a minute, thinking about your own fear. Your parents’ fear. The way they pulled away from you like you would break their spines next. How—
“Come back to me, Noir,” you hear her say, and she touches your shoulder.
“Sorry.” You shake your head. “We can find a better way than how you learned, okay? One where he’s excited, and when he feels ready.” You smile at her and take her hand, giving a strong squeeze that would have broken the bones of anyone else. She relaxes.
You both look up at the sound of the screen door slamming against the side of the house. Ryan pokes his head out, and worry is all over his pale little face.
“Uh, guys?”
The smell of smoke hits you both at once.
“I think dinner’s on fire.”