Work Text:
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Homelanders voice rang out from the couch.
He decided to lay there instead of the bed, after finding out Butcher was sick.
“Work,” The Brit gruffly replied.
“In the state you’re in?” Homelander let out an amused chuckle. He rose to his feet and strode over to Butcher like a calculated predator, but on the insides he was like a puppy not wanting his owner to leave. He was always wanting to get the other man to take time off, so this begging and demanding wasn’t new.
“‘The state I’m in’? I got a cold, not fuckin cancer, love.” Butcher pulled his jacket on, then immediately went to cough into the sleeve. He really thought that hot shower would open up his sinuses or make him feel a little cleaner and energized, but he still felt like shit.
“It could turn into that. And you know the only thing allowed to kill you is me. You’re sick, you should be resting.” Homelander insisted, his brow furrowing. Why did his human have to be so fucking stubborn? Humans always seemed to want to work through their sickness and pain, Homelander never cared til now.
“Well, some of us have actual jobs and would like to keep them.” Butcher gave a smarmy smile. “I have to pay for shit, with money, which I earn by working.”
“I pay your rent.” Homelander rolled his eyes in reply.
“You can try to be a sugar daddy, but like my job anyway.” Butcher reminded Homelander of a wounded animal. One that in the wild, would instinctively hide its sickness—make up for it in aggression, til it would keel over and die. Except now he’s domesticated and still acting like a wild animal, Homelander had to fix that.
“Liar liar pants on fire.” Homelander said in a singsongy voice. “You haven’t liked your job ever since Hughie Campbell and Victoria Neuman put a muzzle on you, it’s all you’ve been bitching and moaning about.” Butcher didn’t have a reply for that one. He just tried to crack open the door anyway for a little bit of freedom, only for a second til Homelander slammed it shut.
“Call off. I’m not asking.” The supe growled, hand pinning the door in place. Well that opened the sinuses. Butchers eyebrows raised for a second in surprise and he let out a puff of laughter, which turned into another cough to his sleeve. Next thing he knew, he was being spun around and getting his jacket pulled off, the other man tried to push him back toward the bedroom, making him stumble a little with how quickly they were going.
“Oh you want me all to yourself do you? So eager.” Butcher tried to tease. “Didn’t get any last night so now you’re trying to make up for it today-“ he had to hack into his arm again, making Homelander cringe. They got to the doorway, all the supe had to do was get him in bed.
“As if. You look like you died.” Homelander sighed. “Now get into bed, don’t make me carry you.”
“Huh? What are you talking about? I look fine! You’re the one who sleeps like a bloody vampire— did you even sleep?”
No, I was watching over your vitals while you slept. But Homelander wasn’t about to let Butcher know that.
Butcher was realizing the horror of the situation, that he was about to be babied til his cold was over. He was trapped. “Just let me-“ he tried to push past Homelander, only to get shoved back and onto the bed.
“I said lay down.” Homelander narrowed his eyes. Butcher glared back almost challengingly, but obeyed anyway. “Good boy.” The supe smiled and turned on his heel, his cape swishing in the air as he did so. “Call in and go back to sleep, okay? You get to sleep in today, rest is important.”
“Oi, before you go…can I get some lotion with my tissues? Since you plan on making me live like a fuckin’ nun.” Butcher grumbled.
“Heh.” Homelander let out a forceful laugh as he exited the room.
The supe could hear him get quiet, and then start bitching on the phone to Hughie or whoever about “a supes keeping me hostage”. The poor man kept hacking and sneezing, Homelander wanted to coo at him and rub his back, tell him it was alright—but he also didn’t wanna breach that thick cloud of germs. Homelander was a clean freak, to an annoying degree. He couldn’t leave a mess out for long, his personal hygiene was better than that of a normal persons, and he very much didn’t like being around sick people. Even though he couldn’t get sick, it still grossed him out and just made him happy he was born the perfect product he was. He even joked with Butcher that he must’ve been a little lucky to miss out on Ryan’s baby stage, given how much babies were germ factories.
But, this was Butcher right in front of him. He had to stay.
Butcher eventually went to sleep though, miserably, and Homelander woke him up later with breakfast in bed.
“A full English? Thought you didn’t cook.”
Homelander shrugged. “It’s pretty simple.” He used his heat vision for the beans sausage and toast, and eggs turned out to be pretty easy to cook. Tomatoes weren’t hard to find, they were the only vegetable Butcher kept regularly in stock, just for this.
“You said you only boil water.” Doubting his cooking skills? At least he wasn’t accusing him of poisoning his meals again. And there Butcher was hacking into a tissue again.
“Do you have such little faith in my culinary skills, William? I’ve been on cooking shows multiple times. Though of course you wouldn’t know-“
“No, I didn’t know you cooked for anyone.” Butcher interrupted.
“..oh.” Homelander blinked. He felt a bit shy all the sudden, and stupid looking with a glass of orange juice in his hand. Butcher was always the one to whip up something quick, Homelander would get Vought chefs to cook, or they’d order out. He’d never done this before outside of microwaving things for Ryan... “Well. There’s a first for everything.” He gave a little smile and put the glass on Butchers tray. “There’s nothing wrong with letting the people who love you help you.”
“…You love me?” Butcher asked with slight surprise, his eyebrow raised. Homelander had never said ‘I love you’ yet, neither of them have. Despite being affectionate with each other often and being in a relationship they refused to label for over a year, they were both very emotionally constipated. They were both knocking down each others walls, but there were still a few bricks left.
“Well— I-ugh!” The smile Homelander didn’t know he had dropped. He sputtered for a moment, face getting red and his brow furrowing. “Of course I fucking love you, idiot! Are you that dense that I needed to say that?” He was getting quickly embarrassed, heat catching the tips of his ears and throat feeling thick. He’s glad he already handed over the orange juice, or he would’ve shattered it. “..Ew, please don’t put your beans on toast again.” The blond sighed as he watched Butcher eat.
“Don’t knock it til you try it, love.”
“And drink up, you need vitamin C.”
Butcher took a sip and went back to eating.
“..and vitamin D. And vitamin K. And more calcium, and iron, and potassium-“
“ Oi, you me doctor? I didn’t start eating just to get nagged at.” Butcher was annoyed with the buzzing in his ear about his health, as if he cared about it. He bit his tongue to avoid sneezing all over his food.
“As if you listen to or go to the doctor anyway. I just—I just worry!” Homelander gulped and sheepishly glanced away. Butcher smiled slightly and picked his fork back up. “It’s just..” the supes gloves could be heard squeaking as he flexed his fingers. “You’re getting up there and-“
Butchers eyes popped open and his fork hit the plate with a clang.
“Getting up there?! I’m in me fourties and I’m only four years older than you you cunt!”
“You’re getting up there, William, humans die at like..fifty. And you’re trying to speed run your life, smoking and drinking and eating trash, it’s not good for you. One more bad sick day and you could bite the dust. Hell, you could even slip in the shower wrong and that’s the end of William Butcher.”
“Since when does a serial killer know what’s good for me or not?” Butcher rubbed his temple, his headache was getting worse with this chatter. As if you never murdered, Homelander wanted to say.
Homelander was quiet for a moment.
“You ate a hot pocket out the garbage.” He mumbled.
“Says the guy I caught tongue fucking the milk carton! And for the last fucking time it didn’t touch any of the—y’know what…I’m just gonna try and drop that. Don’t worry your pretty lil head about me. I’ll be fine, right as rain .” Butcher insisted and sneered, then took a deep breath, and coughed into his arm again as he did so. “So you ain’t gonna play doctor but you’re playing housewife instead?” He hummed. Homelanders face turned red again.
“I know what would make me feel way better. Why don’t you play both and come suck me off after I finish this plate?”
“You’re a pervert.” Homelander tsked and turned away. This was the rare time the supe complained about the Brits libido.
“Says you.” Butcher had to hold back a laugh or he’d start coughing. “I didn’t hear a no!” He called out as Homelander left the room again. Although the supe would’ve liked to stay and watch, he knew he was getting on Butchers nerves, so he gave him some space to cool down. He’d just watch through the walls instead.
When Homelander heard that Butcher was done, he went and retrieved his plate and glass.
“I suppose since you wanna be me housewife, you’re doing the dishes too right?” Butcher tried his luck, then sneezed into a tissue. His nose was getting red from how much he had to blow his nose.
“Hah!” Homelander grinned with amusement at the idea of washing dishes, but then paused, the wheels in his head spinning for a moment. “…perhaps.” He did want to take care of Butcher, and he’d do anything for the couple of people he loved. Butcher sighed with relief and watched his nurse cart the items away to the sink.
It won’t be that hard. You’re Homelander. You can do anything. The supe took a deep breath. He could handle gore, but of course, snot particles, phlegm splatters, dirty dishwater and gunky plates crossed the line for him.
Homelander pulled off his gloves and substituted them for the rubber yellow ones Butcher kept hanging around the sink. He never had to wash a dirty dish in his life, he was grateful for that but Jesus, he hated this. Is this what married life is like? Taking care of your husband and doing gross shit like this? If that meant being married to Butcher anyway, he’d put up with it every day. Butcher would need him, and he’d be right there for him always, like a dutiful husband would. He’d need him. He needed Butcher to need him. Stop thinking about marriage. He’d never marry you. Homelander quickly shook his head, flustered. Then he frowned.
He’d never marry you. How would that even work? Everyone besides you would hate that. He hates you.
Homelander bit his lip, his scrubbing got harder, just trying to obscure the reflection in the plate.
We already have a kid together. Why shouldn’t we marry already?
Sharp canines ran along his lips.
Yeah not his kid, Ryan is yours, Billy didn’t pop him out, dumbass. He hates you for bringing Ryan into existence.
No, he loves us. He loves us now.
He’s never said he loves you.
The plate cracked and broke in his hand like clay. Fuck.
“Hey now, what’s all the fuss about?” Butchers soft voice broke through the air. Homelanders head whipped up to see a concerned looking Butcher, and he was fast blinking away tears.
“W-Woah there! What do you think you’re doing?” Homelander pulled the gloves off and slapped them in the sink.
Butcher glanced around awkwardly. “Walking around my own home?”
“No, silly. You’re on bed rest.” The supe swiftly scooped him up and cradled him bridal style, glad he got to have a distraction.
“It’s a cold and I’m fucking bored! You’re not me mum, you don’t have to carry me..” The older man didn’t put up much of a fuss, mumbling.
“But I like carrying you.” Homelander smiled, nuzzling into Butchers sweaty hair and temple. He could hear the pulsating in his head, he could hear how much higher his blood pressure was—he had to fix that. The supe flew Butcher back to his room, feeling as great as the first night he took him out flying. He gently laid him down back on the bed, then turned away and cracked his bare knuckles. “Now! Let’s get something for your headache.” He grinned, disappeared for one second, and then came back with a Tylenol bottle and a glass of water.
“Thanks but, that shite doesn’t work..” Butcher took the bottle. “I can take a per-“
“No. You’re not gonna be popping anything like that around me anymore.” Homelander did wanna take Butchers health seriously. Of course he was gonna do shit in private, but as long as Homelander was around, he wasn’t gonna get away with it.
“..you’re right actually, I shouldn’t mix pills with liquor. Last time I did that, I vomited in Hughies face—wasn’t the only time that happened actually.” Butcher smiled and downed the pill with the water. He definitely needed Homelanders care, he was nearly killing himself at every turn, treating his body as if it was still 21.
“Ah well there you go, serves you right, you fucking pillhead.” Homelander smiled, then watched Butcher set the glass back down. “No no, drink more, you have to hydrate.” He insisted.
“Alright, I will. Only if you kiss me.”
“..Hm?” Homelander fast blinked, his smile getting stiff.
“On the lips. You haven’t made a move since I woke up, and you’re usually on me like flies on shit.” It was true, Homelander would always drape himself on Butcher, kissing him, an arm around him here or there, he couldn’t get enough. But now, the cold was acting as Homelander repellent. Butcher beckoned the supe to come closer, smirking a bit as he saw the hesitation and nervous eyes. “So pucker up.”
Homelander rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, fuck it. “Alright.” He shrugged. He may think Butcher was pretty gross now but..he was jonesing the man pretty fucking bad already. He leaned in hesitantly, and it felt like Butcher got a peck from a marble statue. “C'mon now, you can do better.” Butcher chuckled gently, he reached out and grabbed the collar of Homelanders suit. He pulled him in and closed the gap again, both smiles pressing against each other…this was nice.
Til Butcher coughed wetly into Homelanders mouth.
“..sorry bout that, Johnny.” He mumbled, both of their faces frozen up against each other.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Homelander mumbled. He stiffly and slowly pulled away, eyes still half-lidded. He disappeared in the literal blink of an eye, leaving Butcher to cringe about what he had done and contemplate shooting himself to spare more embarrassment.
Butcher cursed at himself and ran his fingers through his hair, just glad he didn’t sneeze into Homelanders mouth instead. He hoped his face wasn’t as red as he thought it was right now. Well, he may do some calls with The Boys and talk about what the hell he’s missing out on. Meanwhile, the supe was in the bathroom gargling mouthwash and furiously brushing his teeth.
The next time Homelander entered the room, it was to bring lunch. The second Butcher saw him, he wanted to bust out laughing, and the supe glared at him with the part of his face that was visible.
“Oh so now you like masks.” Butcher teased the star-spangled Vought mask on Homelanders face.
“Shut up or your lunch will get cold.” Homelander huffed and went to plop the tray down in front of Butcher, then gave a smile, eyes shining with pride. It was a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup, of course. Homelander always saw and heard of sick humans eating this stuff, and he always wanted to be a kid being fed this by his mom. He bet that Butchers mom must’ve fed him this too, although he didn’t know British culture like that. They eat this shit too, right?
“Thanks love, but I’m not hungry.” Butcher coughed and scrolled through his phone absentmindedly, having sent some texts to Ryan. The supe peered down at the phone screen, his head tilting a little.
i ❤️ you, get well soon!
love you too heart emoji
i meant heart emojis
fuck
💕 there
Homelander grinned. Butcher loved Ryan too, he showed it and he said it about a million times, what did he have to worry about? The supes smile turned into a frown though and he paused, confused as he looked back at Butcher.
“But your stomach is nearly done with breakfast.”
“Eugh, stop, I hate when you do that.” Butcher frowned up at Homelander. He wasn’t squeamish, but the blond looking into him gave him the willies. “I don’t got much of an appetite right now.”
“You should eat anyway.” The supe coaxed the spoon into Butchers hand. He smiled again and patted the older man’s head a little. “You need hydration to heal up faster. And I made it special.”
“..what’s in it?” Butcher asked cautiously.
“Love,” Homelander answered, which got a laugh. “What? You seriously think I’d poison you?” He sighed loudly, his brow furrowing as he ripped his mask off with frustration. That soup did smell pretty good, he wanted to try it, but this was for Butcher, not him.
“Again, I believe you’d poison me, again.” The Brit corrected. Homelander thought it was ridiculous how Butcher would keep holding the cyanide situation over his head—it was just a little bit, to build his tolerance, but he promised to never do that again. “Thought we’d have a Misery situation on our hands.”
“Please no more movie references I don’t understand. Now, eat.” Homelander smiled reassuringly and crossed his hands behind his back, fingers fiddling with each other nervously.
“No.”
“Try it.”
“No-“
“Eat it willingly or I’m shoving it down your fucking throat. Your choice.” Homelander said a bit more forcefully this time, his smile dropping. Butcher groaned lightly and looked down at the bowl, then gave Homelander a sarcastic smile as he took the first spoonful. The supes eyes were laser-focused on Butcher eating—although it was soup from a can he just heated up, he did feel a warm sense of satisfaction and pride seeing this.
“Is it good?” He wrung his fingers.
“Tastes normal. Thanks.”
“Just normal?” Homelanders lips pressed into a thin line. Butcher looked back up, annoyed at first but then saw the expression on the supes face. “Love, it’s as good as soup from a can gets.” He suppressed a cough to take another spoonful of soup. He then took another few glances at the red and blue figure in the corner of his eye, then put his spoon down.
“Johnny, are you gonna stand there the whole time or..?”
“I wanna see you finish,” Homelander replied.
“Probably so you can waterboard me with soup if I’m not eating fast enough.” Butcher chuckled and continued to eat, the younger man watching him like a hawk. It should’ve felt awkward, but this felt better than Homelander leaving and collecting the tray when he was done. He needed him near, not realizing how much he missed his presence til he didn’t have it.
Meanwhile Homelander was plotting on what to do next, he wanted to run Butcher a hot bath before bed, though he fucking hated how his places tub couldn’t fit both of them. The supe wished he could fly him away to the tower and take care of him better there, but he didn’t want to worsen the man’s condition. He zoned out and didn’t realize Butcher was done til he heard the older man allowing himself to cough again.
“Done?” Homelander quirked an eyebrow, looking down at the empty bowl. “Good job.”
“I’m not Ryan, you don’t need to congratulate me.” Butcher rubbed over his forehead and laid his head back. Homelander was nearly out the door til the other man spoke up.
“Wait. Can't you just lay with me?” Butcher asked in such a way that broke Homelanders heart, it wasn’t asked in a ‘please sir may I have some more’-esque way but, Homelander still wasn’t used to Butcher sounding vulnerable. He looked back, hesitated and set the bowl aside.
“Alright.” He needed the contact anyway, even if Butcher was gonna cough in his mouth again. Homelander needed skin-to-skin with the Brit as much as a newborn baby would with its mother, and his cuddly presence would be as healing for sickness as a purring cat. He floated onto the bed and felt a finger hook into his suit collar, then tug.
“That’s gotta go too.”
Homelander squinted his eyes at Butcher suspiciously. “Am I correct in assuming this isn’t foreplay?”
“Jesus Johnny, I’d rather not have pounds of foam and Kevlar trying to smother me while I’m coughing up a lung.” Butcher made a point, one Homelander heard out and nodded along to. “Yeah yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist just..” the supe mumbled and started to wrangle himself out of the suit. He wrestled a little with the zippers, only for Butchers gentle hand to help as it did so many times before, and they let the suit fall onto the ground with a loud thud. Hesitating, Homelander lay next to Butcher and pushed his head against his chest.
He could hear the wheezing and rattling inside of Butcher, as if he were some empty cavern with nothing but the wind blowing around inside. But he could hear his hotblooded heart still beating, having slowed its rate with the blond head resting against it. “Mm. Stop breathing.” Homelander hummed, making Butcher snort and then cough loudly. “In your dreams.” The Brit replied. Homelander was fine with the white noise that was his wheezing, as long as he was still breathing.
Silence filled the air and while Butcher was comfortable, his eyelids relaxing and heart pumping slower, Homelander just felt awkward. The longer it went, the more itchy he felt under his skin and the more restless he got. He usually enjoyed the silence, but something was weighing on his mind like a ton of bricks—or like a boulder balanced on his shoulder that was about to fall down the hill again.
“I,” he spoke up. Butcher opened his eyes again and glanced down.
Homelander gulped, his face getting flushed—he wondered if Butcher was studying him and picking him apart. “Yes, I love you, but you don’t have to say it back yet.” Was weird to hear come from his mouth, one would expect the supe to pressure Butcher into saying it. But since he was in the relationship, he was ‘growing’ as per Starlights words. “Whenever it’s comfortable for you, I’ll be waiting—“
“I love you too.”
Homelander felt his blood pressure skyrocket, and his blue eyes widened a little. Butchers heart rate didn’t pick up even a bit.
“Y-you do..?” The supe voice wobbled, not even knowing he could say something in such a tone. He cleared his throat quickly, doe eyes looking up at Butcher with little sparkles in them. “I mean, hah, of course you do.” His smile was shaky and his eyelids fluttered, while Butcher was still as cool as a cucumber. “Who could resist these eyes?” Homelander resorted to awkward humor to try and patch the situation, and cover his emotions.
“What eyes?” The corners of Butchers lips quirked up slightly.
“Y’know.” Homelander shifted his head to rest his chin on Butchers chest. “The ‘fuck me’ eyes?”
“You have ‘It puts the lotion on its skin’ eyes.”
“What did I say about movie references I don’t understand?” Homelander huffed with frustration and pushed his cheek into Butchers chest.
“Jesus, you’ve never—?” Butcher wondered how the hell Homelander lived under a rock even after leaving the lab, then decided to table his conversation for later. “But..yeah, I do mean it.” He ran his fingers through Homelanders golden locks and watched the supe preening, replaying those four magic words in his head over and over. If he were a cat, he’d be purring right now.
“Now tell me I’m a good person.”
“Let’s not go that far.” Butcher replied.
“Fine.” Homelander grumbled.
As their limbs intertwined, Homelander waited andlistened as Butcher quickly fell unconscious. His headache already soothed with the supe on his chest, and as Homelander stared at the other mans lips, he thought that just maybe he could be able to get over his germaphobia soon.